N. T. Wright, The Paul Debate: Critical Questions for Understanding the Apostle (Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press, 2015), xi + 110 pages.

I must confess that I am writing this double-review with both volumes of N. T. Wright’s Paul and the Faithfulness of God (Fortress Press, 2013), sitting on my desk, partially open, and partially read. I must also come clean that I have intentionally decided to read first the two books under review in part because I am unsure when I will finish the Wright magnum opus (so far), but I have read and been positively challenged both by Wright’s Christian Origins and the Question of God series which go back to the early 1990s (to which Paul and the Faithfulness of God adds the fourth installment) and his earlier book on Paul (What Saint Paul Really Said, Eerdmans, 1997). For those who find themselves in situations somewhat like mine, I say up front: Paul and His Recent Interpreters (PRI) and The Paul Debate (PD) are very different books that interface with Paul and the Faithfulness of God (PFG) in contrasting ways, and will not in the end alleviate from those serious about the New Testament the burden of taking up and persisting through the latter books. Let me explain.

Wright tell us in the preface to PRI that as originally imagined, it intended to serve as an introduction to PFG, particularly in terms of mapping the trajectories of Pauline scholarship in the modern era. However, the material “quickly became more complex than I had imagined, to the point where it could no longer be contained within the larger book” (PRI, xvii). One response might be that tacking on the 350 plus pages of PRI to the beginning of PFG would have resulted in an expansion of book 1 to about the current size of book 2; on the other hand, the complicating factors appear to be less about size or length than with conceptuality, and perhaps setting off PRI on its own account can be appreciated only after working through the details of PFG.

What PRI does, then, is situate PFG within the broader landscape of Pauline studies, particularly around the turn of the twenty-first century. The three parts of PRI unfold three dominant conversations about Paul: 1) on the Jewishness of the apostle, particularly as negotiated and disputed after E. P. Sanders’ Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1997); 2) on Paul as apocalyptic thinker and theologian from Ernst Käsemann at mid-century through J. C. Beker, J. L. Martyn, and Douglas Campbell more recently; and 3) on the social world of Paul and the apostolic Christians, particularly as initiated and developed by the work of Wayne Meeks and David Horrell. While the discussions are explicated along separate tracks (in the three parts), Wright’s account clarifies the interconnections while also locating how these important issues are relevant to other developments in Pauline scholarship, whether the so-called “New Perspective,” those working in empire studies, or the philosophical-continental Paul. Along the way, we get glimpses about how Wright’s own constructive vision in PFG has been shaped in dialogue with these developments. In particular, we understand better Paul, not to mention Jesus, as Jewish and apocalyptic visionaries, but in ways that make sense given the social and historical world of first century Palestinian life under the shadow of the Greco-Roman empire and amidst Hellenistic culture.

N. T. Wright, Justification: God’s Plan and Paul’s Vision (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2009), 279 pages, ISBN 9780830838639.

Justification is N. T. Wright’s response to John Piper’s critique of several of Wright’s earlier writings. If those earlier writings from Wright are installments in a program, Justification is the program’s hub—the point at which it all comes together, and at which the program is presented in a most easily understandable form. (Wright informs us, however, that a more programmatic hub is forthcoming in the form of a “big book” on Paul.)

This book towers in presence and importance over Wright’s other popularizing works. In the context of theological books aimed at a lay readership, it towers above most of the land as well—it is (at least) a sort of “book of the year”. While scholars who write repeatedly for lay readers tend to let their academic guard down, Wright remains rigorous throughout this book, perhaps because he is writing in response to parties who will call him on the carpet for any slip.

Given the book’s popularizing and argumentative bent, it seems, at points, to be more invested in rhetoric than in substance. Wright harps a bit too much (in this reader’s opinion) on how traditional Reformed soteriology is usually couched in terms of “me and my salvation”, rather than in terms of what God is doing on a more cosmic scale. (Wright insists that God’s salvation is so much more than “personal” salvation.) While Wright’s point is not completely invalid, he presses it too far. After all, should we not expect Paul to tailor his message to people asking about “me and my salvation”? Are we to believe that the ancients did not think in those terms, and that Paul would not have reacted accordingly? My point is that Wright tries to make this rhetoric lift more than it can, and he should have made at least some effort to establishing his point exegetically, especially since he makes such a big deal of doing so on all other points. Other aspects of Wright’s rhetoric are measured out more advisedly. His constant insistence on reading Scripture on its own terms rather than through the lens of tradition is fair and especially fitting, all the more so given the context of the debate with Piper. Wright insists on letting Paul speak for himself.

Wright connects “justification” to (just about) all that God did to redeem creation, but the term itself, he claims, refers only to the lawcourt-drama aspect of salvation. The lawcourt image is but a metaphor, and God’s salvation consists of so much more. God’s focus is on redeeming all of creation. Given this supposition, Wright’s attempt to remove the term from a narrow focus on personal salvation (esp. the courtroom drama) is understandable. Wright ties everything back to God’s covenant with Abraham, which, on his account, comprises the center of all God’s redeeming activity. Most parts of his argument, I think, are convincing, and he especially convinces in overturning others’ attempts to treat Abraham’s role in Romans 4 as merely an example of how God’s salvation works. Another strong part of Wright’s overall program is found in his constant reminder that the “we” in Paul’s arguments often refers to the apostles rather than to believers in general. Wright establishes this point conclusively, I think, in a brilliant exegesis of 2 Corinthians 5, showing that the apostles, rather than the Corinthians (or Christians in general), are the “ministers of reconciliation”. Perhaps the weakest point of Wright’s overall program lies in his attempts to find exodus typology under every stone. (He even thinks that water baptism typologically recalls the exodus.)

Though he admits he is not an expert on evil (17), N. T. Wright writes Evil and the Justice of God in light of a new concentration on evil in postmodern Western society. His work is particularly significant in light of the perceived evil involved with such events as the September 11, 2001 attack on the United States; the devastation of Hurricane Katrina; and the Tsunami across the Indian Ocean. Wright defines evil as “the force of anti-creation, anti-life, the force which opposes and seeks to deface and destroy God’s good world of space, time and matter, and above all God’s image-bearing human creatures” (89). Wright notes that postmodern Western society either typically ignores or denies the existence of evil when it is not directly impacted. However, when postmodern Western society is directly impacted by evil, its typical response is to either blame everyone else or blame themselves (24). Consequently, this reaction has direct implications on the notions of how one exacts justice in order to combat evil. Given its ambiguous notion of evil, can postmodern Western Society clearly define and (more importantly) exact justice in response to evil being manifested? In contrast, what is the Judeo-Christian response to the problems of evil and implementation of justice on an individual and societal level? These are the key questions that Wright so provocatively addresses in his book.

Evil and the Justice of God is comprised of five chapters. Chapter one is entitled “Evil is Still a Four-Letter Word” and discusses the new and practical problems of evil existing in postmodern Western culture. For example, though the culture is often shown examples of evil through channels such as the television, its citizens are typically not directly threatened by that evil. This lack of engagement produces a false notion that evil is under control. Likewise, political leaders and the media also seem to be surprised by evil when it manifests in such a way that postmodern Western society is affected (25–26). Wright notes that this may be because they hold an abstract or philosophical understanding of the problem of evil. However, he asserts that the problem of evil is not an abstract or philosophical dilemma. Rather, it is a practical issue that has been largely ignored since the time of the Enlightenment (78). Additionally, for Wright, when postmodern Western society is directly impacted by the problem of evil there is often an immature, dangerous, and ineffective reaction to it. This is evidenced, for example, for Wright, by a “lashing out” at those perceived to be evil (28). But such reactions do not address the reality of evil—both super-naturally and naturally (32). For Wright, the problem of evil, however, is well addressed in the Judeo-Christian tradition.

Chapter two is entitled “What can God do about Evil” and presents a Judaic perspective on the problem of evil and the Justice of God. Relative to the problem of evil, Wright points out that in the Old Testament there is evidence of a divine pattern of dealing with the problem of evil in that God judges evil but also offers grace in the wake of evil (50). For example, in the story of the flood (Gen 6–7), God judged the continual evil of humanity (6:5, 11–13), but offered grace through the family of Noah (6:8, 18; 7:1). Likewise, because of their hubris ambition to build the tower of Babel in order to be like God, the inhabitants of the earth were deemed evil, and God’s judgment was to confuse their language, thereby limiting their creativity (Gen 11). Later, God offered grace to humanity through the “Abramic” covenant (Gen 12: 1–3). Though the notion of God offering both judgment and grace in response to evil may appear paradoxical, the Old Testament witness has been consistent on this matter. For, it is those who participate in evil who are judged, but God’s grace is extended to all of humanity.

Nicholas Thomas Wright, Judas and the Gospel of Jesus: Have We Missed the Truth About Christianity? (Baker, 2006), 156 pages.

Wright is a lucid writer, with the gift of being able to express himself at both a popular and academic level. This book adopts the popular genre. Wright does not dismiss the Gospel of Judas. He is happy to acknowledge the manuscript, the discovery of which was celebrated in the media last year, as an authentic 2^nd century writing. What is interesting is how he addresses the contemporary fascination with this and other, ancient Gnostic writings.

The Gospel of Judas presents Judas as the good guy and the disciples, who want Jesus to avoid death, as the bad guys. Jesus needs to escape the carnal prison of his body. Judas helps him, by arranging the “betrayal,” which is no betrayal at all. Judas is really Jesus’ savior, helping him to leave an imperfect world shaped by an imperfect creator, to be united in spirit with the true, superior God.

Wright’s thesis is that the problem does not lie with such ancient sources. Their discovery provides no threat to mainstream Christianity. The Gospel of Judas illustrates a popular notion current in the early centuries, a reaction to incarnational Christianity that was at one with philosophies that viewed escape from this world as the ultimate objective in human life. Indeed, he celebrates the publication of what he views as a valuable example of such Gnostic worldviews.

Wright sees the real challenge to mainstream Christianity to lie with the current fascination with “other worldly” religiosity, which seeks to look longingly towards life in the heavens, whilst denying the call to engagement with injustice and unrighteousness in this present world. He sees disengagement with truly Biblical faith in Christ that brought persecution and even martyrdom to the early church as the reason for the contemporary fascination and popularity of more “spiritual” messages.

This is an easy and good read. And it is a challenge to those who know the power of the Holy Spirit, but find difficulty in associating that with a faith that leads us to engagement with political and social injustices around us. Maybe some of us are closer to the teachings of the “Gospel of Judas” than we would care to imagine.

Reviewed by Jim Purves

N.T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God: Christian Origins and the Question of God, Volume 2 (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 741 pages, ISBN 9780800626822.

Dr. Wright approaches his study of Jesus as a Christian, a New Testament scholar, and as an historian. While his conclusions challenge many popular evangelical conceptions of Jesus, his teachings, and his mission, they also provide what I discovered to be a significantly more integrated picture of Jesus—one that “made sense” in the light of sound biblical, cultural and historical contexts, and brought new insight upon the church’s own mission and message.

Wright begins with a thorough examination of the recent “quests for the historical Jesus,” chronicling (and critiquing) scholars from Hermann Samuel Reimarus and Albert Schweitzer to Robert Funk, John Dominic Crossan, Marcus Borg, and others. Wright then offers a new direction for the “quest” that brings together both serious historical research and coherent theological reflection.

It is impossible to compress Wright’s comprehensive examination of the evidence into one simple statement. His is a well reasoned hypothesis offering a coherent conclusion that is consistent with the data, and helpful in understanding the implications of the data for the believing community.

Wright locates Jesus fully in his first-century Jewish context, and shows the reader how his message, his miracles, his public actions, and parables would have been heard in that context. Illuminating the first century Jewish expectation about the return of Israel’s god, in its various forms, Wright identifies Jesus as a prophet who is not only critiquing their practices, approaches, and expectations, but is suggesting, radically, that their expectation for the coming kingdom of God is taking place in and through himself.

The climax of Israel’s story, and indeed humanity’s story, was taking place in the life of Jesus. Because of this, or rather as an expression of this, Jesus message and actions challenged many of Israel’s traditional identity markers, such as Temple, Torah, land, and ethnic/national identity. Jesus was redrawing theses around himself. Israel was in exile, but her God was acting then and there to deliver her—and this was taking place through Jesus. As Wright comments in a section on the Last Supper, “the meal brought Jesus’ own kingdom-movement to its climax. It indicated that the new exodus, and all that it meant, was happening in and through Jesus himself” (p.557).

Wright closes this work with an examination of the crucifixion of Jesus. He explores not only the reasons for Jesus’ crucifixion (a subject of much controversy in recent months), but also a radically fresh suggestion about what Jesus believed his crucifixion meant. Jesus’ death was not simply God’s messy way of “paying” for the sins of human beings, but the means by which Israel’s God was going to conquer her enemies. Wright says in conclusion, “Unlike his actions in the Temple and the upper room, the cross was a symbol not of praxis but of passivity, not of action but of passion. It was to become the symbol of victory, but not the victory of Caesar, nor of those who would oppose Caesar with Caesar’s methods. It was to become the symbol, because it would be the means, of the victory of God” (p.610).