Understanding the Bible Commentary (OT & NT)

[pbgroover]

Seeing this commentary set is in the current sale at a pretty good price, I am wondering how this series compares to others. I have only had Accordance for a few months now so have Tyndale and New Bible Commentary as well as Pillar in the NT and the two IVP background commentary volumes. I Would like to get NICNT/NICOT next time it comes round in the sale, as I missed the last one. Please could anyone who has UBC (formally NIBC) provide guidance as to it's use/value in sermon preparation, pros and cons? I understand that it is not a technical commentary, will it supplement Tyndale or duplicate? I am also looking at BST but am waiting for the OT set to be released too, how does UBC compare with BST? Appreciate any help that can be given.

[Daniel Francis]

>will it supplement Tyndale or duplicate?

 

YES... Sometimes it will simply feel like a duplication but often times it is a great supplement. Let's look at 2 passages to give a good example of how it can supplement it. I will not quote the Tyndale since you have it but I will post Psalm 1 and 1 Corinthians 13 to help you determine if this set will be right for you.

 

-Dan

 

 

§1 Blessed Are Those Who Meditate on the Lord’s Instruction (Ps. 1)

 

Psalm 1 may appear simplistic and naïve to modern readers. It seems to divide humanity into two distinct classes whose fates can be easily distinguished. But we are unfair to psalms if we presume they provide a full, accurate report of current circumstances. A psalm is not a newspaper article. A psalm of instruction, for example, seeks to correct improper attitudes and so offers an alternative perspective, referring to aspects of reality that are not so obvious (e.g., that the wicked will ultimately be judged). It does not describe mere observable reality; instead, it teaches God’s prescribed ordering of life. And it does so by presenting us with two character profiles: the righteous and the wicked (see further the Introduction on temple entry psalms). We are thus challenged to ask ourselves which model we follow. Closer examination of the psalm, in fact, reveals that it contains a temporal tension. In verse 1 it is possible to “stand in the way of sinners,” but verse 5 notes “the wicked will not stand in the judgment.” Sinners do have a “way” in verse 1, but in verse 6 “the way of the wicked will perish.” The psalm does not necessarily describe a present, visible reality; it describes what will transpire at some unspecified time in the future.

Elsewhere in the Psalms the expression, “the law of the LORD,” is found in 19:7 and 119:1. Our psalm shares with them a keen interest in the way of wisdom revealed in “the law of the LORD.” “Law” is an unfortunate translation of the Hebrew term tôrâ, which is more literally “instruction” (cf. the Hb. verbal form, hôrâ, “to instruct”). Psalms 19 and 119 use parallel expressions such as “statutes” and “commands.” The phrase may thus have special reference to Yahweh’s written instruction, particularly as embodied in the Pentateuch. We also need to observe the placement of our psalm as the introduction to the book of Psalms. Virtually all of the psalms in Book I (Pss. 1–41) of the Psalter have superscriptions, except the first two. Thus, it appears likely that Psalms 3–41 had earlier formed a Davidic collection. Once the Psalter, perhaps with all of its five “books,” had been compiled, Psalms 1 and 2 were added to introduce the collection. Thus, in its present location, Psalm 1 introduces the book of Psalms and so enjoins meditation in this book as “the law of the LORD.”

The psalm pronounces who is to be counted blessed and describes that person’s character and fate (vv. 1–3). It then pronounces the fate of the antitype, “the wicked” (vv. 4–5), and concludes with a summary statement that reveals Yahweh’s role in determining their fates.

 

1:1–3 / The character and behavior of the blessing’s recipient is first described negatively: this one avoids the wicked. The opening verse contains three triads: walk, stand, sit; counsel, way, seat; wicked, sinners, mockers. We should not read a progression into this verse, as some do. Rather, the poetic parallelism sets up a mirror image, where the second line is more specific than the first. Paralleling the general category of “wicked” are the more particular categories of “sinners,” the same group but viewed religiously, and of “mockers,” the same group but focusing on their speech. Paralleling the activity of “walking” are the polar postures of “standing” and “sitting.” Paralleling the “counsel” or beliefs of the wicked are their “way” or behavior and their “seat” or company.

The positive portrayal of the blessed defines that person by what “turns him on” (his delight) and by what preoccupies him (he meditates day and night)—in other words, by what he truly values. The blessed one is thus identified not by social status or by mere behavior but by attitude and by what draws one’s attention. While the psalm certainly encourages meditation, the emphasis here lies on its object, as the word order makes clear: on his law he meditates. Biblical texts such as this one certainly endorse “meditation” as a biblical activity. In contrast to other kinds, however, biblical meditation is focused on a specific content. The Hebrew verb means literally “to mutter.” It is somewhat analogous to “reading” (Remember that silent reading is a relatively recent invention), but it also connotes the notion of “mulling” something over and over. It thus comes to have the derived mental notion of “pondering.”

The form that the blessing of verse one will take is now portrayed in verse 3. The respective destinies of “the righteous” and “the wicked” are described by agricultural similes. The righteous person is like a well-watered tree; the wicked are like windblown chaff. That its leaf does not wither implies this tree is able to sustain its greenness and shade even through the dry season of the Middle East because it is planted (lit. “transplanted”) by streams (lit. “[irrigation] channels”) of water. This word choice implies that the tree is able to transcend natural circumstances, but not because of its natural or inherent abilities. The phrase, which yields its fruit in season (lit. “in its time”), is a simple image illustrating a profound truth: while believers may be able to sustain spiritual life through times of adversity, they may be productive only at certain times, whose determination is beyond their control. Continual blossoming is not in view here. The claim whatever he does prospers breaks the agricultural imagery and echoes Joshua 1:8.

 

1:4–5 / By contrast, the image of chaff illustrates the absence of blessing for the wicked, who lack both life and substance. To what judgment does the wicked will not stand in the judgment refer? Christian readers tend to think of the final judgment, but that is not a prominent feature within the Psalms. We are best advised to begin with the clue offered by the psalm’s own parallel line: nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. The judgment relates to the righteous assembly, that is, the worshiping congregation (cf. 74:2; 111:1). Other psalms allude to a judgment taking place when one seeks entry into the temple (e.g., “Who may stand in his holy place?” 24:3; see further on the temple entry psalms in the Introduction). Thus, the wicked are forbidden access to the life and drink made available only to Yahweh’s worshiping congregation, and so they are “not able to stand” (36:8–12).

 

1:6 / The only mention of a divine action in this psalm is withheld until the last verse: the LORD watches over the way of the righteous. On the surface, the fates of the righteous and the wicked have appeared to be determined by natural law: the former go the way of a tree planted by streams of water, and the latter go the way of chaff. But the process is not automatic. The enigmatic word choice in verse 3 (“planted” and “streams,” noted above), may hint that the mysterious “transplanter” and “irrigator” is revealed now in verse 6. No divine action is explicitly predicated for the way of the wicked; it simply will perish. The implication is that without divine intervention life will degenerate into death; it is only with divine aid that it is possible to sustain life.

 

 

 

Craig C. Broyles, Psalms, Understanding the Bible Commentary Series. Accordance electronic ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2012), 41-44.

accord://read/UB_Commentary#17530

 

 

13:1–3 / Verses 1–3 establish the necessity of love, for love alone confers worth to all other spiritual gifts. The mention of tongues has immediate relevance to the Corinthian situation, and the gong and clanging cymbal are items naturally associated with pagan religious ecstasy, so that Paul’s words form a poetic critique of the Corinthians’ behavior as one knows it from the previous chapters. Yet in the next lines the gift of prophecy names a Christian phenomenon highly regarded by Paul. Thus, Paul makes a startling point in unambiguous fashion: Manifesting spiritual gifts, even a gift that Paul values, is useless without love. Paul is not merely issuing a condemnation of those who have religious values that are different from his own or those of his cohorts; he is stating the essential underlying motive or actuality that must influence and even control all spiritual realities. Moreover, the mention of mysteries and knowledge sounds a note about concerns that the Corinthians have demonstrated, and as Paul refers to such issues in this context, the first–century readers would naturally associate these matters with apocalyptic writings and the eschatological age of the end times because of Paul’s imposition and use of this perspective throughout the letter.

In turn, the reference to faith in verse 2 seems peculiar. In this statement, faith appears to be something akin to miraculous power, which might be a traditional definition rather than Paul’s own understanding of faith as “fruit of the Spirit” (Gal. 5:22; cf. 1 Cor. 12:9). The phraseology is more reminiscent of the images introduced by Jesus in Mark 11:23 and Matthew 17:20; 21:21 than of Paul’s own perspective on faith. Paul makes it clear that even extraordinarily powerful faith, which can accomplish great feats, is of marginal value or even useless if the one with such faith has no love. Through a series of dramatic images, Paul makes his understanding of the “most excellent way” quite clear. Paul’s twin verdicts in these verses are that without love I am nothing and I gain nothing. According to Paul’s teaching about Christian belief and practice, human lives and achievements are ultimately judged by the presence or absence of love.

 

13:4–7 / A change of style occurs in verses 4–7. The content and style are those of Jewish parenesis, or concrete directions, and the form is didactic (instruction) rather than hymnic (praise). The English phrase love is supplies the verb “to be,” which is absent in Greek, but the translation accurately captures the descriptive intention of the lines. In brief, verses 4–6 create a listing of the characteristics of love that is epitomized in verse 7. Love is presented as the essential Christian attribute: Love is selflessness and is not self–centeredness. Love is patient and kind. It is “not jealous, boastful, arrogant, rude.” Then, with a shift from the nature of love to the activities of love, Paul declares that “love does not insist on its own way” nor, then, is it “irritable or resentful,” nor does it “rejoice at wrong.” Rather, love “rejoices in the right” (NIV: it does not envy . . . boast . . . is not proud . . . rude . . . self–seeking . . . easily angered . . . keeps no record of wrongs . . . does not delight in evil . . . rejoices with the truth). The reader of this letter would naturally associate the way that love does not act with Paul’s earlier references to the very behavior of the Corinthians in their gatherings for the Supper (ch. 11).

Paul’s language concerning love is crisp, and in rendering his words the NIV is more explanatory than succinct, although judicious and accurate. The NIV’s style is more verbose than Paul’s own diction, and while the translation provides important insights into the sense of Paul’s concise wording, it loses something of the vigor of Paul’s poetic style. The NRSV or even the KJV may be less immediately clear for contemporary readers, but Paul’s poetic style shines through in these versions. The lines critique the Corinthian situation elegantly but abstractly.

Paul summarizes the character of love, although he has already stated its traits, now saying that it “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things” (NIV: always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres). In short, love defines and directs Christian life, although Paul’s meditative mood is too poetic to allow him to make such a conventional declaration. The problem with Paul’s own elegant description of love is that later misreadings and misuses of this contemplation reinterpret love as if it were being gullible or welcoming abuse. In fact, the description Paul gives in verses 4–7 is of God’s love, which transcends the boundaries of selfishness or self–centeredness in the righteous pursuit of reconciliation and redemption (chs. 1, 4). The call to Christians is to live by the grace and power of God in such a way that God’s own love forms and directs life so that God’s love becomes the Christians’ love. Spiritual gifts must function in service to the aims of God’s love, or Paul says they are, despite their sometimes extraordinary effects, dead ends in themselves.

 

13:8–10 / Once again the style shifts at verse 8. Instead of the pithy wisdom sayings of the foregoing lines one encounters more elaborated arguments. The preceding verses of this meditation on love assert that charismatic gifts are worthless without love. Now Paul further promotes love by establishing the temporal quality of the gifts and the enduring, eternal, eschatological nature of love. Thus, verse 8 opens with a contrast between love and prophecies, tongues, and knowledge–declaring that love will endure and that prophecy, tongues, and knowledge will come to an end (or will cease). This turn of thinking should cause alert readers to recall 1 Corinthians 7:31, where Paul said “the present form of this world is passing away,” so that now one encountering Paul’s statements may infer that prophecy, tongues, and knowledge belong to this world, not to God’s new creation. Moreover, and in further pursuit of the dramatic contrast between love and gifts, in verse 10 Paul identifies the basis for the cessation of knowledge and prophecy–they are imperfect. Finally Paul promises the survival of that which is perfect and declares the eschatological end of imperfection. Again, the statements should cause the attentive reader to recall Paul’s statements in 1 Corinthians 3:10–15 concerning what kinds of things will survive God’s scrutiny on the Day of final judgment.

 

13:11–12 / To make his point concerning the passing away of imperfection (that is, the gifts) and the eternal nature of love, Paul offers a dramatic metaphor in regard to the putting aside of childish ways. Immaturity gives way to maturity, so that a childish concern with flamboyant gifts should run its course and end with the advent of a mature concern for love. Moreover, with the ensuing metaphor of seeing in a mirror dimly Paul articulates a contrast between current existence and the promised eschatological vision of seeing face to face. The pattern of Paul’s logic is the contrast of lesser with greater, so that through these images he admonishes the Corinthians to have less concern for spectacular spiritual gifts and a greater concern for the reality of love, God’s own love.

From these metaphors Paul takes up the idea of knowledge that occupied his reflections in earlier chapters. Current knowledge is labeled partial, whereas eschatological knowledge is promised to be full. Current Christian knowledge, though valuable, is of limited importance in comparison with the full knowledge imparted by God in an eschatological form. Paul writes that all full eschatological knowledge, as well as current partial knowledge, is based in our being fully known by God, so that the reader learns again of God’s genuine priority in life and in the experience of salvation. As Paul made clear in chapter 1, what matters is not what humans know but what God has done, is doing, and will do.

 

13:13 / This concluding verse heightens the previous lines of thought and argument. Paul creates a slight contrast between what he says in these statements and what went before, for now the readers hear of the three highest gifts-faith, hope and love. Faith was mentioned in 13:2, but it is not clear that the same sense is intended here (see esp. Paul’s “faith–talk” in Romans and Galatians). Nevertheless, faith becomes the foundation for Christian life. In turn, hope emanates from faith (13:7), but as the lines continue one sees that Paul’s purpose in developing his argument in this manner is to establish the superiority of love, as he already stated in 12:31b.

Interpreters debate whether 13:13 means that faith, hope, and love are valid and remain valid eternally or that faith, hope, and love are now valid, but only love will endure eternally. From Paul’s wording it is impossible to make a final decision, although in context the second option may be preferable. In either case, one should see the superior and eternal character of love. The supreme characteristic and motivation for Christian life–now and forever according to Paul–is nothing other than love.

 

Additional Notes §37

 

These are among the most quoted verses in all of biblical literature. In fact, Paul’s words are so well known in Western culture that they require practically no technical explanation. Even the figures of his metaphors have become standard images in secular speech among most literate people. The logical lines of Paul’s argumentation were examined above, and the basic metaphors are either classic or self–evident. Thus, in the Additional Notes that follow, there are primarily a series of words from the NIV that are first given in their Gk. lexical form and then explained briefly in an effort to provide more than a superficial acquaintance with the elements of the substance of Paul’s thought.

 

The classic study of love, which has undergone much refinement through criticism, is A. Nygren’s Agape and Eros (rev. ed.; London: S.P.C.K., 1953). More recently, J. G. Sigountos (“The Genre of 1 Corinthians 13,” NTS 40 [1994], pp. 246–60) shows how recognizing the form of ch. 13 as an encomium assists comparison and interpretation in relation to both Plato and 1 Esd. 3; cf. J. Smit, “The Genre of 1 Corinthians 13 in the Light of Classical Rhetoric,” NovT 33 (1991), pp. 193–216; andfurthermore, see J. O’Brien, “Sophocles’s Ode on Man and Paul’s Hymn on Love: A Comparative Study,” Classical Journal 71 (1975/76), pp. 138–51.

 

On 12:31b–13:13 as an originally independent Pauline writing, see E. L. Titus, “Did Paul Write I Corinthians 13?” JBR 27 [1959], pp. 299–302.

 

12:31b / Paul writes in reference to the most excellent way (Gk. eti kath’ hyperbolēn hodon), a phrase that essentially indicates “still a way better than any” or “yet an incomparable way.” The language is not extravagant exaggeration, despite the use of hyperbolē. Paul wants the reader to understand that this is an extraordinary path of life that goes beyond all others discussed up to this point. The claim may strike some as arrogant, but in a letter in which Paul has been concerned to curb the artificial, inappropriate arrogance of the Corinthians, the phrase should be taken as a sincere declaration of Paul’s conviction that he is about to portray the extraordinary essence of Christian life to the readers.

 

13:1 / The reference to tongues of angels (Gk. glōssais tōn aggelōn) recalls the discussion at 12:10 and may provide insight into the Corinthians’ practice of and fascination with tongues. Paul contrasts human and angelic tongues, perhaps indicating in the latter reference the understanding of tongues that was prevalent in Corinth. When certain Corinthians spoke in tongues they may have understood that they were being gifted with angel speech, a privilege that would distinguish those endowed with such a capacity.

 

Moreover, in the context of this letter Paul’s mention of a resounding gong (Gk. kalkos ēchōn; lit. “brass sounding”) and a clanging cymbal (Gk. kymbalon alalazon; lit. “cymbal tinkling”) would conjure familiar images in the minds of his readers. Such instruments were common in pagan worship, and in Corinth, where there was a vital brass industry, these would have been common implements for making noise and getting attention. See W. Harris, “‘Sounding Brass’ and Hellenistic Theology,” BAR 8 (1982), pp. 38–41; W. W. Klein, “Noisy Gong or Acoustic Vase? A Note on 1 Corinthians 13.1,” NTS 32 (1986), pp. 286–89. Furthermore, the mention of the cymbal may be related to the language of Ps. 150:5.

 

13:3 / A minor textual problem makes it uncertain whether Paul says that without love it is no gain to hand over one’s body “in order to boast” or “in order to be burned.” Most interpreters prefer the plain sense of the notion of Paul’s hypothetically surrendering his body to the flames, although the other reading is difficult to account for if it is not original. Whichever reading is authentic, the sense of Paul’s statement is that either the pride or the selflessness of sacrifice is worthless without the authorizing motivation of love. See J. K. Elliott, “In Favour of kauthēsomai at I Corinthians 13:3,” ZNW 62 (1971), pp. 297–98; J. H. Petzer, “Contextual Evidence in Favour of KAUCHËSOMAI in 1 Corinthians 13.3,” NTS 35 (1989), pp. 229–53.

 

13:4 / Paul’s description of love is complex. When he lists the positive aspects of love he uses stylized Gk. that is vivid with images. Concerning love he says it is patient (Gk. makrothymos; lit. “long–tempered”); kind (Gk. chrēstos; lit. “useful” or “mild”). Then, Paul uses negative definitions to describe aspects that are not love: envy (Gk. zeloō; lit. “to be zealous”); boast (Gk. perpereuomai; lit. “to put oneself forward” or “to show off”); proud (Gk. physioumai; lit. “to be inflated” or “to be full of one’s own importance”).

 

13:5 / In this verse a series of verbs continues to expand the negative definition of love by stating explicitly what love is not and what it does not do: rude (Gk. aschēmoneō; lit. “to behave dishonorably or indecently”); self–seeking (Gk. zēteō ta heautēs; lit. “to seek the things that are its own”); easily angered (Gk. parozynomai; lit. “to be hot–tempered” or “to be sharp”); keeps record of wrongs (Gk. logizomai to kakon; lit. “to reckon the evil”).

 

13:6 / Paul shifts the perspective slightly by offering an illustrative contrast that probably can be understood to summarize all the negative activity that he mentioned overtly in the preceding verses; moreover, in case he left anything out of the account, he offers a comprehensive summary of what love does not do: delight in evil (Gk. chairō epi tē akikia; lit. “to rejoice over unrighteousness [or wrongdoing]”); then, he states the opposite explicitly, saying what in fact love does: it rejoices with (Gk. sygchairō; lit. “to rejoice with” or “to congratulate”) the truth. The phraseology of this last positive declaration demonstrates love’s positive disposition in recognizing and celebrating “the truth” (God’s truth).

 

13:7 / Paul’s positive description of love’s activities continues with a series of verbs that name what love does. He qualifies the statements by saying that love always (Gk. panta; lit. “all things”) acts in this manner, or better, that the action of love is for the good of “all things.” Specifically, Paul recognizes that love protects (Gk. stegō; lit. “to bear” or “to cover”); trusts (Gk. pisteuō; lit. “to believe” or “to trust in”); hopes (Gk. elpizō; lit. “to hope”); and perseveres (Gk. hypomenō; lit. “to endure”). On the particular character of Christian hope, see E. Wong, “1 Corinthians 13:7 and Christian Hope,” LS 17 (1992), pp. 232–42.

 

13:8 / In contrast to what love always does, Paul gives another negative definition by saying that love never fails—a statement wherein the verb fails (Gk. piptō) means “to fall down.”

 

13:10 / The absolute character of the contrasts between the positive and negative features of love serves a rhetorical function and is a vivid illustration of what Paul means by love. The pattern of contrasts probably reflects Paul’s apocalyptic–eschatological worldview, as becomes evident in the references to perfection (Gk. to teleion; lit. “the complete/perfect thing”) and imperfection (Gk. to ek merous; lit. “the partial thing”). Paul is contrasting the temporal with the eternal. He has said that the form of this world is passing away (7:31), and in listing the qualities of love he declares what will pass away (the negative) and what does and will characterize the eternal (the positive). In meditating on love Paul reveals what he understands to be the character and the goal of the eschatological work of God.

 

13:11 / Paul adds to the images by offering a metaphor to drive home his basic line of thought. He refers to being a child (Gk. nēpios; lit. “infant” or “toddler”), a negative status in the way he states it and in the NT world. In the minds of most ancients, children were little unbridled bits of chaos, whose only hope was to grow into adulthood. Thus, Paul says he put . . . behind (Gk. katargeō; lit. “to have finished with”—here, perfect = “to have been finished with” or “to be completely done”) the things of that undesirable time. In ch. 3 Paul had confronted the Corinthians with their spiritual immaturity, so that this image resounds that note of criticism and reemphasizes the importance of their growing into spiritual adulthood.

 

13:12 / Paul’s second metaphor focuses on the use of a mirror. The mirror (Gk. esoptron; lit. “polished metal”) would have been a well–known commodity in ancient Corinth. Looking in a mirror had associations with vanity, so that Paul may be implying that the best one can do in the context of this world that is passing away is somewhat in vain. In any case, the metaphor is awkward, for one sees oneself in a mirror and one looks at another face to face. Paul’s chief concern, the future and direct encounter of humanity with God, directs his selection and combination of imagery in this statement. Cf. F. G. Downing, “Reflecting the First Century: 1 Corinthians 13:12,” ExpT 95 (1984), pp. 176–77; R. Seaford, “1 Corinthians XIII.12,” JTS 35 (1984), pp. 117–20. In fact, Paul is attempting to make a connection between seeing poorly in a reflection and knowing God poorly when a child (or knowing God poorly before “we” see him face to face).

 

Other elements of Paul’s comments were pertinent to the situation he confronted in Corinth. (1) At best, an ancient mirror gave a poor reflection (Gk. en ainigmati; lit. “in a riddle”). (For an intra–biblical reading of Paul’s image see M. Fishbane, “Through the Looking Glass: Reflections on Ezek 42:3, Num 12:8 and 1 Cor 13:12,” Hebrew Annual Review 10 [1986], pp. 63–75.) (2) The idiom of seeing face to face (Gk. prosōpon pros prosōpon, translated literally) is Semitic in character and may reflect the story of Moses’ seeing God directly. (3) Three verbs offer a concise theological assessment of the situation in Corinth as Paul saw it and as he has described it in this letter. The Corinthians are concerned with knowledge, but they only know in part (Gk. ginōskō ek merous, translated literally). Only as God wills and works for the completion of God’s own purposes will humans ever know fully (Gk. epiginōskō; lit. “to know thoroughly”). Indeed, whatever humans know that matters at all is the result of their being fully known (Gk. epiginōskō, “to be known thoroughly”) by God. Paul applies this paradigm of knowledge, knowing, and being known to himself, but his implications for the Corinthians are evident. This use of himself as an example is consistent with the previous references to Apollos and Paul in ch. 4, where Paul explained that he engaged in such “personal” deliberations for the benefit of those in Corinth to whom he wrote. (For a highly debatable interpretation to the contrary, however, see E. Stuart, “Love is . . . Paul,” ExpT 102 (1991), pp. 264–66.)

 

 

 

Marion L. Soards, 1 Corinthians, Understanding the Bible Commentary Series. Accordance electronic ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2011), 272-280.

accord://read/UB_Commentary#41544

[pbgroover]

Thanks Dan, this is very useful to make a comparison, appreciate the quick reply. The sale price looks very good but I still want to make sure of its value as a commentary set overall, and where it fits in with other sets.

Paul

[kpang808]

This is a good set, and will definitely add value. The $99 is hard to beat because it is about $400 off. I think it is a steal (for lack of a better term) and many who have used this set have found value in it. Like other commentary sets, there will be hit or miss volumes but that being said this price is hard to beat for 36 volumes. Hope this helps in some way. 

[Daniel Francis]

I personally use the UBC more than Tyndale. I consider it a valuable resource but that said everyone is different. I hope you find it useful if you purchase it. Here are three more samples.

 

The Primeval Narrative (Gen. 1:1–11:26)

 

§1 The Creation of the Earth (Gen. 1:1–2:4a)

 

Genesis opens with the account of creation, which is as profound as it is simple. It focuses on the way God ordered the earth. The text addresses the heavens only as they have an impact on life on earth.

The purpose of this account is threefold. First, it teaches essential facts about the way God ordered the world so that humans might understand their place and role in creation. Second, it leads us to praise God as the wise, all-powerful Creator. Third, it preempts the deification of any created elements or forces regardless of their splendor.

The text presents the process of creation in six frames called days. Each frame follows a fixed pattern that begins with “and God said” and concludes with “And there was evening and there was morning …”. Within each frame God gives a command, sometimes stating the reason behind it. The report of the accomplishment of the command follows. God defines the purpose of what came into being, evaluates it, and in certain cases blesses it. The repetition of this structure echoes God’s careful ordering of the cosmos, while the scarcity of detail about how God created fosters our sense of wonder at the marvelous creation. In the process of creating, God was involved with the world in many ways: speaking, creating, making, naming, evaluating, deciding, caring for, pondering, blessing, and resting.

The focus of the six days alternates between time and space. Time is central to the activities of days one, four, and seven, while spatial aspects of creation are addressed in days two, three, five, and six. Furthermore, the ordering of each of the first three days corresponds to what is created on days four through six. The light-giving bodies of day four correspond to the origin of light on day one. On days five and six God fills the space defined on days two (sea/air) and three (land) with the appropriate life forms.

A number of literary features point to God’s creation of humans on the sixth day as the goal of creation. (a) This day receives the longest coverage. ( Only before making humans does God take counsel. © Humans are created in the image of God. (d) Three of the seven occurrences of the nodal term “create” (baraʾ) occur with humans. (e) God pronounces a blessing on humans, and (f) God invests them with authority over other members of the created order. Three features give the seventh day secondary emphasis: first, its pattern is different from that used for the other days; second, God rests; and third, God declares it holy.

This account gives God’s people the proper orientation to the created world. There are five ideas that are crucial to this orientation. (a) God entrusts humans, who bear God’s image, with stewardship of the earth. ( God has set boundaries within which the various dimensions of the created order fulfill their purposes. © God assigns tasks and responsibilities to various members of creation; for example, the lights in heaven establish times and seasons. (d) No member of the created order is a deity. (e) In resting on the seventh day God provides a regular period of time for humans to enjoy the beauty of the created order. This orientation serves to counter false worldviews, including dualism, astrology, nihilism, and any philosophy that devalues human life (D. Kidner, Genesis: An Introduction and Commentary [TOTC; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1967], p. 57).

There are numerous explanations for the relationship of 1:1–2 to the account of the six days of creation. We will consider four of them. The first is the gap theory or the restitution theory, popularized by the Scofield Bible, which takes verse 1 as the report of the original grand creation. In that world evil became so rampant that God had to destroy it. Verse 2 describes the results of that destruction. After an undetermined span of time God recreated the earth as recounted in the six days of creation. This theory is appealing in that it provides the eons required by some geological interpretations of the earth’s formation. It also provides an age for the existence of extinct creatures like dinosaurs, which are otherwise unaccounted for in Scripture. This interpretation, however, stumbles over the grammar of verse 2, which is not structured as an independent sentence in sequence to verse 1. Moreover, this theory leaves much to be desired in that the grand creation is recounted in a single short verse while several verses describe the restructuring of the world. Furthermore, there is no other scriptural support for this position.

A second theory, chaos before creation, holds that the matter with which God began to create (i.e., “the chaotic water”) was completely raw material that lacked any order. Those who hold this position translate the first three verses: “When God began to create …—the earth being unformed and void—God said …” (NJPS). This translation finds support in the way most ancient accounts of creation, including the Babylonian Creation Epic and the account of the garden of Eden (Gen. 2:4b–3:24), begin. The structure of the days of creation runs counter to this theory. The consistent pattern used for each day of creation tells us that verses 1–2 are not an integral part of the first day of creation (vv. 3–5). That is, these first two verses stand apart from the report of what God did on the first day of creation.

A third view, the initial chaos theory, understands verse 2 to describe the raw material that came into existence as a result of God’s initial creative act reported in verse 1. That is, after making the raw materials, God went about ordering the cosmos from these raw materials as recounted in verses 3–31. This view, found in the early versions, has received wide support throughout the centuries. It falters, however, before the intolerable tension between the cosmic order depicted in verse 1 and the chaos described in verse 2. In addition, a comparison of the language of verse 1 with the language used to describe God’s making/creating in six days indicates that it is incorrect to interpret the wording of verse 1 as describing a specific creative act.

A fourth position takes verse 1, “God created the heavens and the earth,” as the heading to the account of creation (1:3–2:4a). That first sentence then came to possess concrete meaning only after the completion of creation. Verse 2 is a circumstantial clause about the unorganized state of matter before God began to create. A description of disorganized matter before speaking of creation accords with the ancient practice of beginning an account of origins by describing that which did not yet exist (2:4b–7).

By juxtaposing verse 2 with verse 1, the author highlights a key theme of Scripture, the polarity between cosmic order and chaos. God created by organizing chaos into cosmos. In so doing, however, God did not eliminate the two key elements of chaos, water and darkness. Their presence accounts for the ebb and flow between abundance and want, blessing and curse. This movement is at the core of human experience. In particular, when Israel keeps the covenant throughout the OT, God blesses nature so that the land yields abundantly. But when Israel forgets the covenant, God unleashes curses that cause nature to languish, resulting in deprivation and hardship.

 

This movement between abundance and want is evident in the material that follows creation (chs. 1–11). God placed humans in a lush garden. But after they rebelled, God expelled them from the garden, and once east of Eden humans had to work the stubborn soil hard to produce their food. Then, when human society became dominated by violence, God brought judgment by wiping out almost all humans by the cataclysmic flood (6:9–8:22). In that judgment God returned the earth to a chaotic condition similar to that described in verse 2.

This movement between blessing (cosmos) and curse (chaos), which is formalized in the blessings and curses of the Sinaitic covenant (Lev. 26; Deut. 27–28), also became a major theme in eschatological passages. God’s final judgment was sometimes described as the uncreating of the cosmic order (Isa. 34:8–15; Jer. 4:23–26). When God finally creates a new heaven and a new earth (Isa. 65:17–25; 66:22–23) his lordship will be further established. Therefore, the juxtaposition of cosmos (v. 1) and chaos (v. 2) grounds the interplay between abundance and want in God’s lordship over order and chaos.

An obstacle to this fourth position is that it seems to allow for the preexistence of matter. However, only the brevity of the creation account creates this impression. Ancient authors did not employ literary techniques for addressing complex issues from many perspectives. They focused on central issues without encumbering their documents with disclaimers. The focus here is on God’s sovereignty over the dynamic movement between cosmos and chaos, so as to discount pagan cosmogonies as a valid way of understanding the world’s origin. As a result, the theme of creation out of nothing was not addressed because it was not an issue. Nevertheless, the wording of this account does not conflict with the idea of creation ex nihilo, which is taught in other Scriptures (e.g., Prov. 8:22–31). In addition, the heading “God created the heavens and the earth” meant for the ancients that God created the earth described in verse 2.

 

1:1 / In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. In Hebrew this sentence consists of seven words, mirroring the seven days of creation. “In the beginning” marks the start of time on earth. This is confirmed by the process of creation being presented in a sequence of days and by the creation of light first in order to mark the flow of time in days and nights (1:3–5). God (ʾelohim) is the generic term for the one deity. It is used so frequently that it virtually functions as a name. Its plural form conveys the multiplicity and self-sufficiency of God. That is, God, who is superior to all the gods, embodies in himself the qualities of all the gods that make up a pantheon. The OT uses “create” (baraʾ) restrictively: only God serves as its subject, and the material out of which something is made is never mentioned. The terms “the heavens” and “the earth,” being at opposite ends of the spectrum, stand for the totality of what God created. “Universe” is another possible translation for this phrase, but the ancient view of the cosmos was so different from today’s view that this English term would convey more than the ancient author intended.

 

1:2 / A description of the earth prior to God’s giving it form follows, in preparation for recounting the stages of creation and especially for the ordering that took place on the first three days: the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep. “Earth” stands in an emphatic position, signaling that it is the primary focus of this account. In Hebrew “earth” signifies the area where humans live, dry land, and the land of Israel. But in this verse “the earth”—being formless, empty, and covered with water—refers to that which held the potential for becoming land.

Darkness, symbolic of a lifeless void, covered “the deep” (tehom), that is, the primordial ocean. In many ancient Near Eastern myths the primordial deep was the locus of those gods who opposed the gods of order. For example, in the Babylonian Creation Epic the goddess Tiamat, who personified the primordial salt waters, set up a rebellious government in opposition to the heavenly assembly. Only after Marduk, a mighty god of the fourth generation, defeated her was he elevated to be the ruler of the gods. Afterward Marduk ordered the cosmos. In Genesis, however, the deep is an essential element in the cosmos, not a deity. The Creator God exists independently from and transcends all matter. There is no indication that God faced any opposition either before or during the process of creation. Nevertheless, this reference to the deep conveys the latent potential for forces that could be aroused to oppose God’s rule and wreak havoc on earth.

The Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. Hebrew ruah is used for both “wind” and “spirit.” “Hover” or “soar” (r-kh-p), however, is not a verb used with wind; it is used here to compare the Spirit’s activity with a bird. The Spirit was circling above the water to make sure that the deep did not oppose God. Manifest as wind, the Spirit was thus in control of these chaotic elements, for it could drive the water wherever it wished. Further, the presence of God’s Spirit symbolized the potential of cosmic order and life that could be produced from these formless elements.

 

1:3–5 / The words God said mark off the stages of creation, conveying that God created by the word. God’s words were not empty, for the Spirit, who was present over the waters, empowered God’s words, bringing into being what God had spoken (A. Kapelrud, “Die Theologie der Schöpfung im Alten Testament,” ZAW 91 [1979], pp. 165–66). The wording of Psalm 33:6, 9 supports this claim: “By the word of Yahweh were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth … For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm.” The parallel in this psalm between “word” and “breath” (v. 6) communicates that God’s Spirit was the energy empowering God’s word.

God began the process of creation with the command, Let there be light, and light came into being, pushing back the primordial darkness. From the context we can discern two reasons God created light first: to limit the primordial darkness, and to begin the flow of time as measured in days. From our knowledge of the world another reason can be added; light was the energy necessary to support the life forms that God was going to create.

God saw that the light was good, thereby making a qualitative judgment about what he had created (also vv. 10, 12, 18, 21, 25, 31). While usually a word carries only one nuance in any given occurrence, “good” in this account is a loaded term. It carries four implications: (a) What came into being functioned precisely as God had purposed. ( That which had just been created contributed to the well-being of the created order. © The new creation had aesthetic qualities—that is, it was pleasing and beautiful—and (d) it had moral force, advancing righteousness on earth (Job 38:12–13).

God went on and separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day” and the darkness he called “night.” By naming these elements God defined their function in respect to their essence. God did not eliminate the darkness that was already present; rather he established his authority over it, assigning it a specific role and restricting its influence.

 

1:6–8 / On the second day God commanded that there be an expanse … to separate the waters. God then made (ʾasah) the expanse. “Made” usually refers to God’s producing something new; “create” (baraʾ) is reserved for special creative acts in days five and six. The presence of the word “made” allows for a variety of processes to come into play between God’s speaking and the object’s coming into existence. God separated the massive body of water into two parts. One part, stationed below the expanse, fed the seas, rivers, and springs. The other part of the deep was placed above the expanse. God called the expanse heavens (sky, NIV). The ancients believed that above the solid dome of the heavens was a reservoir housing the rain, hail, and snow. The sun, moon, and stars moved across the surface of this dome, and between this surface and the earth was the sky. The absence of an evaluative statement for the activity on this day suggests that what had been made had been done so in preparation for a higher goal.

 

1:9–13 / On the third day God carried out two distinct creative acts. First, God ordered the lower water to be gathered to one place so that dry ground might appear. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” As on the first day, God named both the new element and that which already existed. Since the seas sometimes symbolized God’s foe or were viewed as the home of frightful sea monsters (v. 21), the picture of God’s dominion over the seas bears witness to his sovereignty. Again God saw that what had come into being was good.

Second, God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees … that bear fruit with seed in it.” In this command God bestowed on the land generative power to produce a variety and an abundance of plant life. Possessing this generative power did not make nature a goddess, however. God’s command led to the regularity and predictability of nature as well as to the multiplication and adaptation of various kinds of plant life to the various environments on earth. All the plants and the trees are to produce seeds after their kind so that there will be an abundance of plants and trees throughout the earth, providing food for the animals. Again, God saw that the vegetation was good.

 

1:14–19 / On the fourth day God brought into existence lights in the expanse of the sky, charging them with separating the day from the night and with marking seasons, days and years. God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night (see Ps. 136:7–9; Jer. 31:35). God clearly defined the extent of the influence that these mighty heavenly bodies have on earthly life. One of their primary tasks is to announce the times, especially the times for holding the feasts that the law requires celebrating at “the appointed time” (e.g., Exod. 23:15; Lev. 23:4). These heavenly bodies were the main gods of various Semitic peoples, and so this description robs them of any divinity. For this reason the author used generic terms (“greater light,” “lesser light”) rather than names in describing their origin. God saw that these heavenly bodies were good.

 

1:20–23 / On the fifth day God filled the spheres ordered on the second day with life by commanding the water to teem with fish and ordering birds to fly across the expanse of the sky. These new species were to produce offspring of their own kind. After seeing these new creatures, God saw that they were good. In place of the usual “it was so” comes a detailed execution of the command: God created the great creatures of the sea, the fish, and the birds. The text emphasizes “the great creatures,” that is, the serpentine sea monsters, by adding them to the list and putting them first. In the myths of Israel’s neighbors, sea monsters often symbolized forces of cosmic evil that opposed the ruling god and order. For example, a Canaanite myth recounts the mighty struggle between Baal, the god of fertility, and Yam, the sea, for kingship.

Scripture depicts three such creatures as God’s foes: Rahab, Tannin (the term used here for great sea creatures), and Leviathan. Any of these three may symbolize a powerful enemy of Israel or a cosmic force that opposes God. Rahab symbolizes Egypt (Ps. 87:4; Isa. 30:7) or a dragon-like cosmic foe of Yahweh (Job 26:12; Ps. 89:10; Isa. 51:9). Tannin may be a serpent (Exod. 7:9, 10, 12; Deut. 32:33); a symbol of Pharaoh, perhaps as a crocodile, having superior power (Ezek. 29:3; 32:2); or a symbol of cosmic evil (Job 7:12; Isa. 51:9). Leviathan may be a huge sea creature that sports about in the sea (Ps. 104:26) or a fleeing, twisting serpentine creature that represents the power of evil that Yahweh will defeat in the last days (Isa. 27:1). In Job 41:1–34 it is described in detail; many scholars identify it as a crocodile or a serpentine sea monster. In Psalm 74:13–14 God crushed the heads of both the Tannin (pl.) and Leviathan. It is debated whether these names in this psalm represent Pharaoh and Egypt, whom God defeated at the Red Sea, or cosmic foes that God mastered at creation.

 

In either case, God is praised as mastering fully whatever foe, earthly or cosmic, opposed Israel or was a threat to the order of creation. Because of the symbolic force of these serpentine sea creatures, this text specifically uses the special term “create” (baraʾ) for their origin; this is the first use of this term in the days of creation (cf. v. 1). The use of this verb for the sea monsters’ origin refutes any belief that such monsters were co-eternal with God or possessed power that in any way rivaled God’s. There is no place in this creation account for cosmic dualism. Then God blessed these created life forms, empowering them to be fruitful, increase, and fill their respective spheres.

 

1:24–25 / On the sixth day, as on the third day, there were two stages of creation. The animals brought forth on this day occupied the land created on the third day. God began by ordering the land to produce living creatures: livestock, or large four-footed beasts, creatures that move along the ground, and wild animals. This division of animals into domestic and wild is inherent to the created order. In this command God endowed the land (ʾerets) with additional generative power. God saw that what was made was good.

 

1:26 / Before undertaking the next act of creation God took counsel. This unique reference to God’s reflecting in community before making something underscores both the importance and the uniqueness of what God was about to create. That community is either the plurality of the deity or the heavenly council that is witnessed in several texts (1 Kgs. 22:19–22; Job 1:6–12). God considered making humans in God’s image and likeness. Image (tselem) and likeness (demut) are used in similar ways in the OT. “Image” refers to a copy or a close representation (it is also used infrequently for an idol; Num. 33:52; Ezek. 7:20; 16:17). “Likeness” emphasizes the comparison of one object with another or the correspondence between two objects. Each word tempers the other. The use of two terms for the comparison of humans with God, coupled with God’s use of plural pronouns in taking counsel, guards against the belief that humans are divine. Humans, bearing the image of God, therefore are truly like God, but they are not identical to God.

 

1:27 / The combination of the special term “create” (baraʾ; v. 1), its threefold repetition, and the phrase image of God conveys that in making humans God reached the goal of creation. “Create,” used elsewhere in the days of creation only with the great creatures of the sea (v. 21), informs us that God was personally involved in the origin of humankind. Man, in the statement God created man (ʾadam), is a collective standing for all humanity, that is, those God made at the beginning as well as their descendants.

The placement of “the image of God” at the center of a chiastic arrangement stresses its importance, as does the repetition of “the image.” There has been an abundance of scholarly discussion about this evocative phrase, for the text does not explicitly define its meaning. Nevertheless, the way “the image of God” functions in this context and in 9:5–6 gives insight into its significance. It conveys here that humans have the highest position in the created order. As God’s representatives on earth, humans were invested by God with authority to subdue the earth and rule over the animals (v. 28; see P. Bird, “Male and Female He Created Them,” HTR 74 [1981], pp. 129–59, esp. pp. 138, 154).

Genesis 9:5–6 states that every person is inviolate by reason of being made in God’s image. Besides making murder a heinous crime, this text opposes any type of caste or slavery system. Furthermore, the image carries profound moral implications. Both Testaments teach that whatever one person does to another affects God (e.g., Amos 2:7; 1 John 4:20). A person’s manner of interacting with other humans characterizes the way that one relates to God. Moreover, because God made humans in his image, God yearns to redeem those who have disobeyed him by providing the means for them to receive forgiveness and reconciliation.

Male and female he created them. The Hebrew emphasizes the phrase “male and female” by placing it before the verb. This third and final part of the verse contains four important ideas. (a) It ascribes sexuality to God’s design for humans. Thus, an essential aspect of human nature is quite different from God’s nature. An implication of this is that we need to draw on the outstanding qualities found in each gender to have a full view of God. If we imagine God as predominantly male or female, our picture is partial and distorted. ( This reference to human sexuality sets the stage for God’s blessing humans with fertility and commanding them to populate the earth (v. 28). © This phrase establishes the fact that every male and every female is made in God’s image. In the essence of being human there is no qualitative difference between male and female. (d) We learn that God made humans as social creatures who discover their identity and destiny in relationships characterized by rapprochement. “Male and female” conveys that the basic reciprocating human relationship is between a man and a woman (see Gen. 2:21–24). Beyond that basic relationship, humans form communities for sustaining and enriching their lives. Living and working together is thus an integral expression of being in the image of God.

Another one of the many important aspects of being human that this section explores is the ability to handle the word, or language. God recognized this ability at the beginning by blessing humans and giving them instructions (vv. 28–30). God can converse with those in his image, and Scripture is a record of those conversations. Moreover, conversation enables humans to have genuine fellowship with God. This is the basis for God’s calling of Abraham, in which God established a people who would worship him wholeheartedly. Through conversation people also communicate with each other and thereby gain insight into their own identities. Rich personal interchange brings humans great joy, for it flows out of the innermost being, that is, the aspect of humanity that is in the image of God.

In addition, the ability to handle words raises human acts above biological necessity as it enables a person to conceptualize, plan, evaluate, and anticipate. Being cognizant of what they are doing, humans bear responsibility for their deeds. Skill with words also opens the pursuit of wisdom to humans. Words then become an avenue for humans to exercise their creative instincts.

 

1:28–31 / God empowered humans with a special blessing in which he commanded them to be fruitful and increase in order that they might fill the earth and subdue (kibbesh) it. While the human capability to reproduce is inherent in the human physical constitution, fertility results from God’s blessing. This belief differentiated Israel’s understanding of fertility from that of its neighbors, who believed that fertility rites practiced at local shrines enabled their lands, flocks, and wives to produce abundantly.

God assigned humans rule over all animals: the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and … every living creature that moves on the ground. “Rule” (radah) means that humans are to promote the well-being of the animals and protect them from danger just as a monarch fosters the welfare of the citizens. “Subdue” (kibbesh) is even stronger than “rule”; it means “conquer, subjugate.” B. Lohfink demonstrates that this word should be translated with as little drama as possible; he suggests “take possession of” (The Theology of the Pentateuch [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994], pp. 10–11). Although these commands empower humans to be masters of the animal kingdom and by extension the earth, they do not give them the right to abuse or to kill animals wantonly. Nor do they ordain humans to rule imprudently by abusing the earth so that nature no longer supports the various species. Such an abuse of authority would be a distortion of God’s purpose, which includes working for the benefit of those under human authority. That God made animals and humans on the same day, and the fact that they belong to the same classification of living creatures, attest to their closeness. Consequently, in promoting the welfare of animals, humans advance their own well-being.

In addition, God gave humans access to every seed-bearing plant … and every tree that has fruit, and God assigned to all the animals every green plant for food. This beneficial word on behalf of the animals, given in the context of God’s blessing humans, confirms that God entrusted the care of the animals to humans.

On the sixth day God saw that all that he had made … was very good. Every part of creation supported all life forms as God had made them. Everything was beautiful in a setting of complete harmony. The entire created order honored the human exercise of moral obedience to God.

 

2:1–3 / A summary statement tells us that the creation of the heavens and the earth was completed. Since the cosmos was exactly as God wished and since the world was capable of continuing on its own, on the seventh day God rested. In resting God showed that he was neither bound to the creation for support nor limited in any way by it.

God blessed the seventh day, setting it apart from all other days by making it holy. From the premise that seven units symbolize wholeness or completeness, God’s sanctifying the seventh day certified that the creation was finished and perfect. In doing this God was expressing divine sovereignty over time. God separated time into ordinary time and holy time, for God did not want humans to become slaves to endless work. So humans are to rest one day in every seven in order to praise God and enjoy both the creation, the result of God’s labors, and the results of their own work. Holy time, therefore, adds meaning to activity done in regular time. Observance of holy time also refreshes the human spirit, adding a depth of meaning to life. God ties his deliverance of Israel out of Egypt into the observance of the seventh day (Deut. 5:12–15). Thus, on the Sabbath Israel worshiped the God of creation who was also the God of the exodus. In worshiping this great God regularly, humans exercise the spiritual dimension of being in God’s image.

 

2:4a / God’s creation of the earth ends with this is the account of the heavens and the earth when they were created. This is the first of ten toledoth formulas that mark the major divisions of Genesis (see Introduction). Toledoth is Hebrew for “generations or genealogy.” This formula stands both as a heading to a genealogy (e.g., 5:1) and as an introduction to a narrative having little or no genealogical material (e.g., 37:2). Thus the NIV often renders it “account.” This term developed in the direction of family history, for the Hebrews liked to include anecdotal notes in their genealogies. Therefore, other versions sometimes translate toledoth as “family history” or “narrative history.” In heading a new section it usually names the father of the central figure in that section. Only here does toledoth point to the origin of something other than humans. In speaking of the origin of the heavens and the earth it is not implying that the world came into being by natural generation. Rather, it conveys that the heavens and the earth were going to generate a variety of life forms.

 

Additional Notes §1

 

1:2 / While many readers understand “earth” to be our planet, the ancients had no concept of a solar system. For them, “earth” was the vast land mass established over the primordial ocean.

The precise meaning of ruah ʾelohim, “the Spirit of God,” is debated. Grammarians have established that ʾelohim is sometimes used as a superlative for the preceding noun; e.g., the phrase “the cedars of God” means “the mighty or majestic cedars.” Possibly, then, ʾelohim with ruah means “a mighty wind.” However, ʾelohim means “God” in thirty other occurrences in this account. A sound exegetical principle is that when the meaning of a term is clearly established in a given text, it has that meaning in each of its occurrences unless a definitive signal indicates otherwise. Since there is no such signal here, it is most likely that ʾelohim here means “God.”

In Deut. 32:11, the same word used for “hovering” in Gen. 1:2 (Hb. r-kh-p) is used to describe an eagle circling back and forth, ready to swoop under any of its young that grow weary and need to be carried back to the nest on their parent’s back. However, in the Ugaritic Tale of Aqhat (Aqht C, 31), the same word is used of the eagle circling about its prey as it prepares to strike. The latter picture seems to fit this text better.

It is interesting to note that the Spirit here is portrayed in the imagery of a large bird of prey, whereas in rabbinic sources before the coming of Jesus and at Jesus’ baptism the Spirit is depicted as a dove (Matt. 3:16). The significance of these two very different metaphors for the Spirit is, however, not clear.

 

1:3 / The presence of light before the creation of the sun is inconceivable from our contemporary understanding of the universe. However, it was possible according to the view of the ancient Hebrews; several OT texts speak of light existing independently of the stars (Job 38:19–20; Isa. 30:26; 60:19–20).

Separation is a major activity in establishing the created order: light from darkness, day from night, upper waters from lower waters, and dry land from water. Separation of the profane from the holy is also a central theme in the law (Lev. 10:10; 11:47) and in the final judgment (Rev. 20:4–6).

 

1:4 / The term “good” here carries several meanings, including aesthetic and moral; i.e., what God created was beautiful and promoted the moral order.

 

1:5 / Ancient readers would have taken “day” to be an ordinary day. It is possible that day represents an age, but the text does not readily support that position. A seven-day week of creation anchors the weekly pattern in the created order.

 

1:10 / Hb. “sea” (yam) includes larger bodies of salt water and lakes, e.g., the Sea of Galilee.

 

1:14–19 / The sun, the moon, and the stars were mighty forces in God’s heavenly army. At creation they were members of the heavenly chorus that sang praises glorifying God’s work (Job 38:7). God, the director of their course (Isa. 40:26), could marshal them to help defeat Israel’s foes (Judg. 5:20). Psalm 121:6 reflects both the fears of the ancient Hebrews that on a long journey the sun or moon might strike them and their faith that God would prevent this from happening.

 

1:21 / While there is no hint of conflict during God’s creating, the OT does witness to such conflict in describing God’s defeat of the enemies of Israel. For example, God smashed the great sea creature by defeating the forces that opposed God’s people (e.g., Ps. 74:13–14; Isa. 51:9–10). Eschatological texts employ the imagery of opposing creatures to describe God’s final defeat of all forces hostile to his rule (e.g., Isa. 27:1).

 

1:26 / With whom did God enter into counsel? There are many proposals: (a) God took counsel with wisdom (Prov. 8:22–31). But this text does not mention wisdom. ( “We” is a polite manner of self-expression. But this custom is not attested among the Hebrews (GKC §124gN). © “We” is the plural of majesty (Gen. 11:7; Isa. 6:8). But such usage is not attested for a pronoun in Hb. (Joüon §114eN). (d) “We” was used as an ancient literary device for a person’s speaking to himself. But this device is not commonly used in Scripture. (e) The plural reflects the multiplicity within God himself, coinciding with the plural form of ʾelohim in Hb. However, this name of God is used throughout the account as a singular. (f) This “we” reflects the Trinity. The church fathers (e.g., Barn. and Justin Martyr) held this view. While the plural pronoun does acquire fuller meaning in light of the coming of Christ, it did not convey to ancient Israel any idea of God’s being triune. The following two proposals find the most support in Scripture: (g) God took counsel with his Spirit (so D. Clines, “The Image of God in Man,” TynBul 19 [1968], p. 68; cf. v. 2). This theory has the advantage of finding the conversation partner in the text. (h) “We” refers to the heavenly council over whom God rules (1 Kgs. 22:19–22; Job 1:6–12; 2:1–7; Ps. 82; it was common for deity to hold councils in Near Eastern myths). Before creating humans, this position argues, God entered into deliberations with this council since their role and destiny would be affected by human behavior. God’s words after the first couple ate of the forbidden fruit support this position: they have “become like one of us, knowing good and evil” (3:22).

Is there any connection between the human body and the image of God? The Hebrews viewed each person as a whole, consisting of spirit/breath and body. Since for the Hebrews any separation of the spirit from the body resulted in death, the image of God must include the body. Moreover, there has to be enough correspondence between the human body and the image for God to appear on earth as recognizably human (e.g., the angel of Yahweh, 18:2). Thus the corporeal dimension of human life bears witness in some way to the image of God. This position is crucial for the NT teaching of the incarnation. Genesis 1 emphasizes the theme of separation that is foundational to the ritual purity system; humans are separated from animals by being made in the image of God (this concept rules out bestiality, for example), and the divine creator is very distinct from the created world and its beings. Therefore, Israel denigrated any view that held that a human was a god. It rejected the existence of heroes who were a blend of divinity and humanity (such as Gilgamesh, the legendary ruler of Uruk, who was two-thirds divine). Israel also rejected the view that human rulers were divine or became divine at death. This boundary also means that God is never to be lowered to a human level and so made it difficult for some Jews to accept the NT teaching that God took on human form in Jesus. Thus, the teaching that God created humans in the image of God is essential for the incarnation, for it provides an ontological basis for God’s Son clothing himself in human flesh. Thus Jesus is uniquely the image of God (2 Cor. 4:4; Col. 1:15).

Whether the addition of the word “likeness” places more or less distance between God and humans is debated (e.g., H. Preuss, “damah,” TDOT 3:259, versus Clines, “The Image of God in Man,” p. 91).

 

1:27 / Ancient Near Eastern texts from Egypt and Mesopotamia use the phrase “image of God” to mean an exalted position. Egyptian texts contain many references to the Pharaoh as the image of God. This accords with their belief that Pharaoh was god incarnate and the son of the god Re. There are also a few references in Mesopotamian texts to a monarch’s being in the image of god. This title “the image of god” gave the ruler royal status and defined his role as the god’s viceroy on earth. In these two cultures the image of god was primarily limited to the monarch, though in Mesopotamia the phrase referred a few times to a high official. By contrast, Scripture asserts that all humans are in God’s image. The biblical account of creation, therefore, has a democratizing force as it assigns a high status to all humans.

The high position of humans in Gen. stands out even more by comparison with the role humans had in the Old Babylonian myth Atrahasis (W. Lambert and A. Millard, Atra-Hasis: The Babylonian Story of the Flood [Oxford: Clarendon, 1969]). At the beginning numerous gods had the task of laboring to feed the ruling gods. After forty years of such wearisome toil, these gods grew tired, burned all their tools, and quit working. Enlil, the storm god, decided to deal with their rebellion by killing one god. Enki, the god of wisdom, prepared clay mixed with the dead god’s blood and flesh. Then Nintu, mother earth, pinched off fourteen pieces of clay and molded them into seven pairs of humans. After ten months these humans came forth from some kind of a womb (unfortunately the text is broken at this place). The gods then imposed on the humans the toil formerly done by the gods. In this myth humans are the slaves of the gods. But in Gen. all humans, not just the royal line, bear God’s image and thus have regal standing.

Some excellent sources on the image of God include J. Barr, “The Image of God in the Book of Genesis—A Study in Terminology,” BJRL 51 (1968/69), pp. 11–26; Bird, “Male and Female He Created Them”; Clines, “The Image of God in Man,” repr. as “Humanity As the Image of God,” in On the Way to the Postmodern: Old Testament Essays, 1967–1998, vol. 2 (JSOTSup 293; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), pp. 447–97; G. Jónsson, The Image of God: Genesis 1:26–28 in a Century of Old Testament Research (ConBOT 26; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1988); J. F. Kutsko, Between Heaven and Earth: Divine Presence and Absence in the Book of Ezekiel (Biblical and Judaic Studies 7; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2000).

 

1:28 / Radah means to rule supremely (1 Kgs. 4:24; 9:23; Isa. 14:2; Ezek. 34:4). Often such rule is implemented by great force (Lev. 26:7; Isa. 14:6), but that does not have to be the case (Ps. 68:28; H.-J. Zobel, “radah,” ThWAT 7:354–56). The use of kibbesh (“subjugate”) confirms that this term may connote the exertion of strength in ruling. This concession does not mean, as some people have vociferously argued, that God empowered humans to exploit either the animal or the natural world. The exploitation of nature that has led to the current ecological crisis cannot legitimately be laid at the doorstep of this command. Additional support comes from Lohfink’s argument that in this setting radah means “care for, manage” (Theology of the Pentateuch, p. 12). From another direction we must acknowledge that the primary reason for the ecological crisis of the twenty-first century is human greed, a motivation Scripture soundly denounces. Another possible reason for the use of these strong terms is anticipation of the great effort humans would have to exert in making a living from a harsh world.

 

2:1–3 / Israel’s calendar identified every day by an ordinal number except the seventh day, which was called Sabbath, “rest.” This custom was a reaction to the way Israel’s neighbors named the days of the week after gods. The term “Sabbath” does not appear here, perhaps because this account looks at the created order before Israel’s existence and the giving of the fourth commandment in the Decalogue (Exod. 20:8–11). This text nevertheless provides a foundation in the created order for the observance of the Sabbath.

 

2:4a / Scholars debate whether the first half of v. 4 belongs with the preceding narrative or with the following one, as the NIV divides the sections. Many contemporary scholars take it as the heading to the next section of Gen. (2:4b–4:26), since all other occurrences of this formula stand at the head of a section. Nevertheless, three factors favor taking this formula with the preceding account. First, it uses “create” (baraʾ), which occurs six times in Gen. 1 but never in Gen. 2:4b–3:24. Second, 2:4a contains the seventh occurrence of baraʾ, which is very significant since the author relishes patterns of seven: the nodal term “good” occurs seven times; the opening sentence has seven Hb. words; creation is divided into seven days; and each of the first three stichoi (or verses of poetry) of the seventh day contains seven words (2:1–2a). The third factor is that heavens and earth with the article occur here in the same order as in 1:1 (also 2:1); thus the two lines form an inclusio. By contrast, these terms in 2:4b occur in inverted order and, more importantly, without the article. Thus the toledoth formula here marks the first division of Genesis (1:1–4:26). The reason for its unusual placement is that the author gives priority to the definitive heading (1:1). Since this line contains the seventh occurrence of baraʾ, it is probable that the editor of the first section of Genesis (1:1–4:26) is likely the author of the creation account (1:1–2:4a).

 

 

John E. Hartley, Genesis, Understanding the Bible Commentary Series. Accordance electronic ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2012), 39-55.

accord://read/UB_Commentary#448

 

§3 Time (Eccl. 3:1–22)

 

Qohelet turns here to a consideration of “time.” The poem on time (3:1–8) is the most familiar passage in the book of Ecclesiastes, and is used in settings from funerals to folk-rock concerts. In the poem, pairs of opposites illustrate that there is a proper time for all human activity. When it is read in isolation from its context, the poem provides the reader with a sense of comfort and reassurance. There is a time for everything. In the unpleasant seasons of life, one can recognize that there will be balancing good times. Thus one is enabled to accept grief as part of a larger picture (when using this as a funeral reading), or to strive to work toward the time for peace (as in the Pete Seeger song “Turn, Turn, Turn”).

Following the poem is a prose reflection on the same subject (3:9–15). It is more characteristic of Qohelet’s voice, both in the ruthlessness with which it insists on human limitations and in its affirmation of finding pleasure in one’s food, drink, and work.

The reassurance that the reader may have found in the poem on time is strictly circumscribed when one reads it in connection with the prose reflection. One can still “be happy and do good” (3:12), and even understand the ability to “eat and drink, and find satisfaction” in one’s work as a “gift of God” (3:13). Yet the lack of understanding remains heavy “burden” (3:10).

It is not coincidental that the letdown occurs when the role of God is made explicit. It is God who has “set eternity in the hearts of men” but withheld the ability to “fathom what God has done from beginning to end” (3:11). The passage develops and explains the exclamation of 1:13, “What a heavy burden God has laid on men!”

The next verses (3:16–17) introduce the issue of injustice, here in the context of “a time for everything.” The chapter closes with an interlude (3:18–22) in which Qohelet claims that humans are like beasts, or even that they are in fact beasts. The preceding segment on injustice may allow the reader to infer that this conclusion is based on the way people treat one another, but Qohelet does not make this connection explicit. Rather, it is the likeness of their fates (death and return to the ground) that links humankind with animals.

 

3:1–8 / The poem on time is carefully balanced. Time exists for opposite activities, although with some of the word pairs the precision of the opposition is questionable. God is not mentioned in this section, but is implicit as the One who appoints the proper times.

The elements the poem describes are all normal human activities and emotions. There is little emphasis on the specific vocabulary and concerns of wisdom or on the particular concerns of the book of Qohelet. Although the opposites have positive and negative connotations (beginnings and endings, pleasures and sorrows), they should not be assigned moral significance: all of them are activities proper in their time, which cannot be claimed for immoral behavior. Notably, the poem does not include “a time to be wise and a time to be foolish”; or “a time to be righteous and a time to be wicked”; or “a time to fear God and a time to sin”; or “a time to be lazy and a time to be diligent.” Perhaps more significantly in light of what follows, Qohelet does not acknowledge “a time to oppress and a time to do justice.” Although there are times for both pleasant and unpleasant activities, Qohelet never suggests that there is a proper time for injustice or wickedness.

 

3:9–15 / Following the poem, Qohelet offers reflections on the concept of proper time, seriously qualifying its usefulness for human behavior. In this segment, God is explicitly and ominously present. God has established an appropriate point in time for everything, and God has also put time in the sense of duration (NIV eternity) into the human heart. The human predicament is being caught between these two aspects of time. God has determined the proper specific times for different behaviors and has put the larger sense of time into our hearts, but we are unable to determine what God has done. Thus we are unable to discern proper times and are simply confounded by time in its broader aspect.

The serene tone of the preceding poem, then, comes to an abrupt end. There is a time for everything, but we humans are unable to comprehend this. In the final analysis, we simply cannot understand God’s work. And yet, there is nothing better than happiness, eating and drinking, and finding satisfaction in one’s work. This is not only from God (as in 2:24), but should be understood as the gift of God. God’s work endures and is designed to inspire reverence on the part of humans.

 

3:16–17 / A brief transitional segment provides the first reference in the book to human injustice. The problem is a grievous one, but it is described from the perspective of one who sees oppression, not one who experiences it. At first reading, it may appear as though the issue of space has supplanted that of time. There is a place for judgment and a place for justice, but in both of these places there is wickedness. However, the temporal concern is implicit in the claim that God will impose judgment on the righteous and the wicked: because there is a time for everything, there must be a time for judgment. This claim has potential for comfort, coming as it does after both the poem asserting the existence of proper times and the prose reflection acknowledging human inaccessibility to the divine time scheme. The reader might expect Qohelet to relinquish control and accept God’s wisdom about when the time for patience is over and it is time to execute justice. The potential consolation, however, is not realized and Qohelet never observes the longed-for justice. The tone of the segment remains poised between confidence and despair; as usual, there is no retreat from either side of this difficult, even paradoxical, combination. Qohelet knows both that judgment will happen and that it has not yet happened. There is no suggestion here of judgment at the hour of death, a concept which might mitigate the tension.

 

3:18–22 / The relation of the final verses of chapter 3 to the preceding reflection on injustice is not explicit, yet the placement of this segment pushes the reader to find a connection. Most likely, the deferral of judgment provides the opportunity for testing, and the prevalence of oppression is what occasions the likening of humans to beasts. In any case, Qohelet claims that humans have the same fate as do animals: death and return to the dust. In this context, Qohelet concludes again that everything is meaningless (3:19). This is the only use of the key word in this chapter and it does not include its frequent expansion, “chasing after wind.”

Who knows in 3:21, like other rhetorical questions in Ecclesiastes, assumes a negative response. No one knows whether the human spirit has a different destination after death than does that of an animal. The previous verses hint toward an absolute denial of an afterlife, but this phrase is less ambitious. It simply implies that certainty is impossible. Reference to the possibility of an afterlife suggests a milieu in which the idea was available but debated. Qohelet is clearly inclined to deny the existence of a life after death (3:19–20), but finally unable to draw a definite conclusion.

This uncertainty leads to the third commendation of enjoyment of life (3:22). Because people do not know what happens after their lifetimes, the best they can do is enjoy life while it lasts. The closing rhetorical question (who can bring him to see, 3:22) anticipates a negative response. This is the first specific reference to lack of knowledge of the future, which will become an important theme later in the book.

 

Additional Notes §3

 

3:2 / A time to be born: The translation to be born makes excellent sense given the pairing with “to die.” However, since the Hb. verb form is active, “to give birth” would be a more fitting translation.

 

3:11 / Eternity: Although “eternity” is the usual translation for the Hb. ʿôlām (long duration, whether in time or space), its sense here is not immediately apparent. Possible translations include: “a sense of past and future” (NRSV, REB), “the timeless” (NAB); “an awareness of the passage of time” (NJB); “a sense of duration” (Murphy, Ecclesiastes); “the unknown” (Crenshaw, Ecclesiastes), and “the world” (Gordis, Koheleth).

 

3:15 / God will call the past to account: The sense is difficult; a more literal translation is “God seeks what is pursued.” Is the sense that God seeks out (and finds) that which humans pursue (vainly)? Or is it (as the NIV footnote suggests) that God seeks out (and re-calls into being) the existence of that of which humans have no remembrance (i.e., the past)? The first part of v. 15 recalls 1:9; if the second half of 1:9 is to direct the reader’s interpretation here, the latter option is to be preferred.

 

3:17 / A time for every activity: The use of the phrase, which in Hb. is an exact repetition of a season for every activity (3:1), indicates a close connection between this segment and the reflection on time that opened the chapter.

 

Roland E. Murphy and Elizabeth Huwiler, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Understanding the Bible Commentary Series. Accordance electronic ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2012), 187-190.

accord://read/UB_Commentary#20639

§6 Jesus and Nicodemus (John 3:1–21)

 

Nicodemus is introduced as a particular example of the “believers” mentioned in 2:23–25. As a “member of the Jewish ruling council” and “Israel’s teacher” (vv. 1, 10), he is perhaps not wholly typical of the group, though later indications are that leaders of the people were indeed conspicuous among these socalled believers (12:42). It is probably out of fear that Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night. Speaking perhaps for the larger group, he makes a confession that puts the narrator’s summary (2:23) into his own words: Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the miraculous signs you are doing if God were not with him (v. 2).

Jesus brings Nicodemus up short with a solemn declaration that no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again (v. 3). The image is a heightened form of Jesus’ use elsewhere of children as a metaphor of discipleship: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3). The extreme example of becoming a child is, as Nicodemus put it, to go back to one’s mother’s womb and be born a second time (v. 4). Jesus explains that born again actually means born of water and the Spirit (v. 5), a phrase intended to clarify but one that has for some modern readers just the opposite effect. Verse 6, without mentioning water again, affirms that the Spirit gives birth to spirit, while a similar expression, “born of God,” has appeared already in the prologue (1:13; cf. also 1 John 2:29; 3:9; 4:7; 5:1, 4, 18).

Only in verse 5 is water mentioned in connection with this new birth. To be born again or born . . . of the Spirit is to have one’s life radically transformed by the power of God. It is like beginning life over again, with new perceptions and new relationships. But what has water to do with it? Are water and the Spirit two distinct elements, or one? Is Jesus saying that a person must be “born of water” (whatever that means) and also “born of the Spirit”? Or does he intend water as a metaphor for the Spirit (i.e., that one must be “born of water, even the Holy Spirit”)? If water simply represents the Spirit (as, e.g., in 7:39), why is water mentioned at all? The metaphor is pointless unless the phrase “born of water” by itself has a definite meaning on which a metaphor can be based. Some have suggested that it refers to physical birth. Water in Jewish writings can be a euphemism for the male sperm (e.g., the Qumran Hymns speak of humanity as dust or clay “kneaded with water” (1 QH 1.21, 3.24, 12.25, 13.15). Metaphorically, born of water and the Spirit would then mean born of a seed or sperm that is spiritual and not physical (H. Odeberg, The Fourth Gospel [Amsterdam: B. R. Grüner, 1968; reprint of 1929 edition], pp. 63–64). This would yield a masculine metaphor of God as Father in the sense of male procreator (cf. 1 John 3:9). The problem with this view (aside from the heaping of metaphor on metaphor!) is that water is not among the expressions for physical birth listed in 1:13. And when Jesus proceeds to mention physical birth to Nicodemus in verse 6, the phrase is “born of the flesh” (RSV), not “born of water.”

If water and Spirit are two distinct elements, then it is all the more true that the phrase born of water must be assigned a meaning of its own. Again, there are those who connect it with physical birth: A person must be born both physically and spiritually. In popular discussions of this passage, water is sometimes understood in connection with birth itself rather than procreation, that is, with the breaking of the water bag in the mother’s womb at the onset of labor. But the difficulties inherent in the “spiritual seed” interpretation are present here as well and are compounded by the redundancy of saying that one must be born physically in order to enter the kingdom. The whole point of verse 6 is that the new birth itself is not physical but spiritual.

It is more likely that born of water and the Spirit is a metaphor for baptism in water and in the Holy Spirit. The two elements were joined earlier in John the Baptist’s testimony about baptism: John baptizes in water, but Jesus is the one who will baptize in the Holy Spirit (1:26, 33). The pairing of the two elements involves both contrast and continuity. John’s baptism is incomplete without the Spirit, yet there is no evidence that water baptism came to an end when John passed from the scene. Baptism in water and the Spirit (in that order) becomes in the book of Acts the normative way of initiation into the Christian community: “Repent and be baptized, every one of you,” said Peter on the day of Pentecost, “so that your sins may be forgiven. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:38). In a similar way, Jesus is telling Nicodemus that he cannot enter the kingdom of God unless he takes the step of initiation into the new community of faith forming itself around Jesus. He must leave the group he is in and join a new group by being baptized in water and in the Holy Spirit. The metaphor of becoming a child is combined with the language of Christian initiation. Nicodemus is being addressed as a representative of those who believed in Jesus but were afraid to confess him (2:23–25, 12:42). Unless such people risk persecution by publicly identifying themselves as Christians, their faith is declared invalid. In the first century, this public identification consisted of water baptism and the experience of receiving the Spirit. The point is not that baptism is always and everywhere necessary for salvation, or that a person is born again simply by being baptized. The point is that a faith that risks nothing is no faith at all and brings no one into the kingdom of God.

Jesus’ meeting with Nicodemus is more than an exchange between two individuals. The plurals in verse 7 (you must be born again) and verse 11 (you people do not accept our testimony) make it clear that two communities confront each other here: the Christian followers of Jesus and the Jewish community represented by Israel’s teacher (v. 10). The thrust of the interview is negative: The community of Nicodemus can no more understand the community of Jesus than one can understand where the wind comes from or where it goes. The lives of those who are born again are an utter mystery to those who are not (v. 8). The conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus centers around the impossible. Jesus’ miracles are impossible without the help of God (v. 2). No one can see or enter the kingdom of God without a new birth (vv. 3, 5), and no one can go through the process of birth a second time (v. 4). There are two spheres of existence, the physical and the spiritual, with no natural access from the one to the other (vv. 6–8). How can this be? asks Nicodemus, not realizing that he is the living proof of it. He is Israel’s great teacher, yet even he cannot understand (v. 10). There is nothing in the world (or in Judaism in particular) that offers genuine access to God or his kingdom. Only by accepting the testimony of Jesus and his followers (v. 11) and becoming part of the Christian community can a person enter the realm of the Spirit. This is what Nicodemus and his community have (so far) failed to do.

After a brief transition, the positive Christian testimony is set forth in verses 14–17. The earthly things (v. 12) are the impossibilities of the preceding section, while the heavenly things represent the good news of eternal life through the gift of God’s Son. The note of impossibility continues in the pronouncement that no one has ever gone into heaven (v. 13a), but a crucial exception marks a change of tone: except the one who came from heaven–the Son of Man (v. 13b). The time perspective of this verse and the verses that follow is postresurrection, as if Jesus, the Son of Man, has already gone up into heaven (cf. 6:62; 20:17), or as if the writer is looking back on God’s gift of his Son (v. 16). The third–person, almost detached, way of summarizing the gospel story is reminiscent of the first half of the prologue.

It is difficult to tell where Jesus’ words spoken during his earthly ministry end and these postresurrection words begin. Jesus’ speech to Nicodemus and the reflections of the narrator under the inspiration of the Spirit are so closely intertwined that it is neither possible nor necessary to distinguish them. Together they comprise the heavenly things uniquely known and made known by the ascended Son of Man. Verse 14 appears to be a kind of riddle addressed by Jesus to his opponents (or to Nicodemus in particular) in the manner of 2:19, a riddle solved for Christian readers by the reflection on Jesus’ redemptive death in verse 16. Formally, the pattern, as Moses . . . so the Son of Man, recalls a synoptic saying about Jonah: “As Jonah . . . so the Son of Man will be” (Matt. 12:40; cf. Luke 11:30). In each case a biblical incident is made the point of comparison for a veiled reference to Jesus’ death or resurrection. Here the bronze snake raised on a pole in the desert to brings healing from a plague of snakes (Num. 21:8–9) becomes a grotesque intimation of Jesus nailed high on a cross (cf. 12:23; 18:32). But instead of mere physical healing, Jesus brings eternal life (vv. 15–16) or salvation (v. 17).

 

God’s intent is a saving intent, and the scope of his salvation is worldwide. His love for the whole human race expresses itself in the giving of his only Son to die on the cross (v. 16). This “giving” is more specific than “sending” (v. 17). God “sent” his Son into the world (the Incarnation), but he gave his Son in death (the Passion) so that the world might be saved and not condemned (v. 17). The universality is qualified, however, by the phrases everyone who believes in verse 15 and whoever believes in verse 16. To gain eternal life, a person must believe, just as the Israelites had to look at the bronze snake in order to be healed (Num. 21:8–9). Eternal life is this Gospel’s equivalent of the kingdom of God, about which Jesus had spoken to Nicodemus (vv. 3, 5). It is not simply endless life; nor is it a life that begins after death. It is a new kind of life, a new order of existence that characterizes even now the person who believes in Jesus and is born again.

In verses 18–21, the alternatives of faith and unbelief are examined. Even though salvation and not judgment is God’s prime intent, judgment is inevitable on those who do not believe. Judgment, like salvation, is a present reality. Unbelievers are condemned already (v. 18). The verdict is that they “loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil” (v. 19). Once again it appears that the Gospel writer is looking back at Jesus’ teaching from a later vantage point, as if the issue of belief and unbelief were already settled. He writes in anticipation of a later verdict on those who “loved praise from men more than praise from God” (12:43). It is likely that the same group is in view in both instances, that is, the so–called believers of 2:23–25 and 12:42.

True belief is understood in verses 20–21 as coming into the light. The light that has entered the world is Jesus (cf. 1:5–10), and to come to the light is to come to Jesus, publicly and not in secret, for baptism and discipleship. Genuine faith requires open participation in a community of faith. The indictment of Nicodemus and his friends is that they have not taken this step. A person’s failure to come to the light is attributed to fear that his or her deeds will be exposed (v. 20). It is a sign that that person is an evildoer. The one who comes to the light is a person who lives by the truth (v. 21) and demonstrates by coming that his or her deeds have been accomplished through God. Coming to Jesus proves that God has already been at work in one’s life. In a curious reversal of later Christian theology, Jesus makes the point that people prove their good works by their faith!

Behind this surprising logic is not the notion that salvation is earned by good works but rather a strong doctrine of divine election. From a human perspective the new birth is a conversion, but from God’s perspective “conversion” simply brings out in the open the true nature of those whom God has chosen to be his children. No one can come to Jesus unless God draws that person to him (6:44). The one who comes is the one who has first listened to God and been instructed (6:45). Only the person who “chooses to do God’s will” will understand the message of Jesus (7:17). All people will one day be divided into “those who have done good” and “those who have done evil” and judged accordingly (5:29). But the test of whether one has done good or evil is whether or not one comes into the light. The dualism of John’s Gospel has been called a “dualism of decision” (R. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament [New York: Scribners, 1955], vol. 2, p. 21). Back of it is the dualism implicit in God’s sovereign choice, and after it comes the dualism of the last judgment; but the one is an eternal mystery and the other a ratification of something already decided. What matters in history is whether a person decides to remain in darkness or to come to the light that has dawned in Jesus Christ. This is the main theological issue arising out of Jesus’ first visit to Jerusalem.

 

 

Additional Notes §6

 

3:1 / A man of the Pharisees: The repetition of the word “man” (anthrōpos) after two occurrences of the same word in 2:25 links Nicodemus closely to the group described in the preceding section.

 

3:3, 5 / I tell you the truth: lit., “Amen, amen” or “Truly, truly.” The introductory formula calls attention to the importance of the sayings and possibly to their derivation from a particular tradition (cf. 1:51).

 

3:3, 7 / Born again: The word for again (Gr. anōthen) could also be translated “from above” (cf 3:31). The rebirth of which Jesus speaks is in fact a birth from God (1:13) or from the realm of the Spirit, and in that sense “from above,” but Nicodemus’ answer focuses simply on the fact that it is a second birth. Its divine character remains to be spelled out in vv. 5–8.

 

3:5 / Water and the Spirit: It is impossible to tell grammatically whether water and Spirit are two distinct elements or one. The fact that both are governed by a single preposition in Greek suggests that they are one. Yet in 1 John 5:6 the same sort of construction (“by water and blood”) is immediately followed by a singling out of each element with its own preposition and definite article (lit., “not with the water alone but with the water and with the blood”). The decision must therefore be made on other than grammatical grounds.

 

3:6 / Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit: Jesus is not summarizing the life of a Christian (first physical birth and then spiritual birth) but distinguishing between two realms of existence that must not be confused (cf. 3:31; 8:23).

 

3:8 / The wind blows. The Greek word pneuma (the word for Spirit in this context and throughout the NT) can also mean “wind.” Its use here with the cognate verb pnei (“blows”) indicates that wind is the intended meaning (cf. only Heb 1:7 in the NT). The choice of pneuma rather than another word for wind (e.g., pnōe, Acts 2:2) enables the writer to make a play on words. The term used as a metaphor for the Spirit is the same as the word for Spirit itself! No one knows where the wind comes from or goes, and the same is true of those born of the “wind” (i.e., of the Spirit of God).

 

3:10 / You are Israel’s teacher . . . and do you not understand these things? The logic of the dialogue suggests that these words should be taken as a statement rather than a question. Those who say that Jesus is asking in surprise why Nicodemus did not know about baptism or the new birth are then compelled to seek intimations of these things in the Old Testament (e.g., Jer. 31:33 or Ezek. 36:25–27). But the OT plays no part in the discussion at this point, and there is no way Nicodemus can be expected to understand Jesus’ new teaching. Far from being a surprise to Jesus, his ignorance proves Jesus’ point: that spiritual things can only be grasped by those born of the Spirit (cf. Paul in 1 Cor. 2:11–14).

 

3:13 / Except the one who came down from heaven–the Son of Man: Some ancient manuscripts have a longer reading: “except him who came down from heaven, even the Son of Man who is in heaven.” This variant makes explicit the notion implied by the better–attested, shorter reading that the Son of Man has already ascended.

 

3:15 / Believes in him: Only here in John’s Gospel is the Greek preposition en used with the verb pisteuein, “to believe.” Everywhere else the preposition eis (“into”) or a dative without a preposition is used. It is therefore likely that “in” goes with the expression “to have life” rather than with “believe”: “so that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.” The case for the NIV marginal rendering rests largely on the parallelism with v. 16, where pisteuein is used in the normal Johannine way, with eis.

 

3:19 / Men loved darkness . . . their deeds were evil. Note the past tense: from the Gospel writer’s standpoint, the decisions have been made and the verdict is in: People loved darkness, and their deeds were evil. It is possible that men (Gr.: anthrōpoi) is intended to recall the thrice–repeated anthrōpos of 2:25 and 3:1.

 

3:21 / Lives by the truth: lit., “does the truth.” The phrase “to do the truth” occurs in the Qumran literature as an expression for faithful participation in the elect desert community. See, e.g., 1QS 1.5, 5.3, 8.2, 9. In early Christian Gnosticism (Ptolemy, Letter to Flora 6.5), a similar expression can mean to live according to the Reality that has come in Christ (i.e., to obey the law of God spiritually and not literally). Such terminology suggests that the sharp distinction between faith and works that characterizes later Christian theology is not always helpful in understanding Jewish and (aside from Paul) early Christian literature.

 

 

 

J. Ramsey Michaels, John, Understanding the Bible Commentary Series. Accordance electronic ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2011), 55-63.

accord://read/UB_Commentary#36245

 

-Dan

[Michael Hunt]

You might find this from the foreward of the OT series helpful as well (there isn't a corresponding one from the NT unfortunately)

 

Foreword

 

As an ancient document, the Old Testament often seems something quite foreign to modern men and women. Opening its pages may feel, to the modern reader, like traversing a kind of literary time warp into a whole other world. In that world sisters and brothers marry, long hair mysteriously makes men superhuman, and temple altars daily smell of savory burning flesh and sweet incense. There, desert bushes burn but leave no ashes, water gushes from rocks, and cities fall because people march around them. A different world, indeed!

Even God, the Old Testament’s main character, seems a stranger compared to his more familiar New Testament counterpart. Sometimes the divine is portrayed as a loving father and faithful friend, someone who rescues people from their greatest dangers or generously rewards them for heroic deeds. At other times, however, God resembles more a cruel despot, one furious at human failures, raving against enemies, and bloodthirsty for revenge. Thus, skittish about the Old Testament’s diverse portrayal of God, some readers carefully select which portions of the text to study, or they avoid the Old Testament altogether.

The purpose of this commentary series is to help readers navigate this strange and sometimes forbidding literary and spiritual terrain. Its goal is to break down the barriers between the ancient and modern worlds so that the power and meaning of these biblical texts become transparent to contemporary readers. How is this to be done? And what sets this series apart from others currently on the market?

This commentary series will bypass several popular approaches to biblical interpretation. It will not follow a precritical approach that interprets the text without reference to recent scholarly conversations. Such a commentary contents itself with offering little more than a paraphrase of the text with occasional supplements from archaeology, word studies, and classical theology. It mistakenly believes that there have been few insights into the Bible since Calvin or Luther. Nor will this series pursue an anticritical approach whose preoccupation is to defend the Bible against its detractors, especially scholarly ones. Such a commentary has little space left to move beyond showing why the Bible’s critics are wrong to explaining what the biblical text means. The result is a paucity of vibrant biblical theology. Again, this series finds inadequate a critical approach that seeks to understand the text apart from belief in the meaning it conveys. Though modern readers have been taught to be discerning, they do not want to live in the “desert of criticism” either.

Instead, as its editors, we have sought to align this series with what has been labeled believing criticism. This approach marries probing, reflective interpretation of the text to loyal biblical devotion and warm Christian affection. Our contributors tackle the task of interpretation using the full range of critical methodologies and practices. Yet they do so as people of faith who hold the text in the highest regard. The commentators in this series use criticism to bring the message of the biblical texts vividly to life so the minds of modern readers may be illumined and their faith deepened.

The authors in this series combine a firm commitment to modern scholarship with a similar commitment to the Bible’s full authority for Christians. They bring to the task the highest technical skills, warm theological commitment, and rich insight from their various communities. In so doing, they hope to enrich the life of the academy as well as the life of the church.

Part of the richness of this commentary series derives from its authors’ breadth of experience and ecclesial background. As editors, we have consciously brought together a diverse group of scholars in terms of age, gender, denominational affiliation, and race. We make no claim that they represent the full expression of the people of God, but they do bring fresh, broad perspectives to the interpretive task. But though this series has sought out diversity among its contributors, they also reflect a commitment to a common center. These commentators write as “believing critics”—scholars who desire to speak for church and academy, for academy and church. As editors, we offer this series in devotion to God and for the enrichment of God’s people.

ROBERT L. HUBBARD JR.

ROBERT K. JOHNSTON

Editors

 

This is a good set, and will definitely add value. The $99 is hard to beat because it is about $400 off. I think it is a steal (for lack of a better term) and many who have used this set have found value in it. Like other commentary sets, there will be hit or miss volumes but that being said this price is hard to beat for 36 volumes. Hope this helps in some way. 

 

Couldn't agree more with what Keith has said. Like Dan I use the UBC more than Tyndale (it is actually my preferred multi-volume commentary),

 

For a pure preaching helps commentary I believe you can't go past :-

 

1. Preaching the Word (Editor Kent Hughes)

2. Feasting on the Word (for the lectionary types amongst us)

3. The underrated Holman Bible Commentary

[pbgroover]

Thanks Keith, Daniel and Michael, appreciate the advice, votes of confidence on this set and the wealth of samples to compare with, very helpful to make a more informed decision.