Confusion over temples produces confusion over worship

In Chapter 16 of my Generations of Heaven and Earth I spend eighteen pages contrasting the Old Testament tabernacle/temple, based on the Genesis cosmic temple of Genesis 1 and emphasising the separateness of God from his creation, with the New Testament (and New Creation) temple in which all barriers are dissolved in the body of Christ.

I summarise the difference in my conclusion to the chapter:

The first, tripartite sanctuary reflects old creation cosmology, and so is suitable and good for the Sabbath reign of God in his old creation, where his human worshippers, by nature, acknowledge him as the high God, or sky Father (see chapter 10). This pattern becomes, in the Torah, representative of the fall-back tabernacle of Israel’s failure to embrace intimacy with God by faith, through fear. Fallen Israel is unholy, and so remains separated from God by the institutions of the tabernacle and temple.

The second type of sanctuary, marked by a lack of any internal divisions and open access to Yahweh, is first seen in the Garden of Eden, and recurs in the worship of those who exhibit new-creation faith: the patriarchs in their informal worship, Moses on Sinai and in the special tent of meeting, and finally Jesus in his abolition of Jewish temple worship, his tearing of the veil, the new temple centered on his body, and eschatologically in the new heavens and the new earth, where there is no temple apart from the living presence of God amongst his people, his glory filling all things.

Because the subject of the book was Adam and the New Creation, I didn’t say much about what this implies regarding the Christian theology of worship, but in fact it radically transforms not only the Old Testament model of worship, but also all human religion revolving around sacred places, priesthoods and ritual. For the Incarnate Christ is now the locus of God’s presence (John 2:21), the only and once-for-all sacrifice to achieve communion with God (Hebrews 10:14), and the all-sufficient high-priest (Hebrews 4:14). And if Christ dwells in all true worshippers through his indwelling Spirit, making them by that spiritual union stones in the temple (1 Corinthians 3:16), participants in his sacrifice with their lives (Romans 12:1), and a universal royal priesthood in him (1 Peter 2:9), then clearly God is now manifested wherever his people, the body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:27), are scattered through the world.

The New Testament clearly teaches this, because virtually all the language of “worship” references the daily lives of believers lived “as unto the Lord” (eg Romans 12:1), and astonishingly none of it is directed towards the gathering of believers. And so the NT describes Christians meeting together in houses (not outside God’s holy house) in order to share table fellowship in remembrance of the Passion (and hence acknowledge each other’s fellowship in it), and to build each other up through teaching, exhortation, communal prayer, singing the truths of Christ and whatever other gifts God’s people bring to the table to share.

The meeting is only “worship” in the sense that all Christian life is to be worship, the emphasis being on the mutual interaction of God’s individual gifting and blessing received during daily life. Jesus is, of course, worshipped as the focus of assembly. But the aim is not (as the Charismatic theology claims) to “break through” to the supernatural presence of the Lord, for that occurred as the people walked in the door.

Here’s a caveat that marks the direction I want to take this. In Acts, the first Christians met in the Portico of Solomon in the temple precincts, Peter and John went to the temple at the hour of prayer, and Paul, decades later, was arrested whilst fulfilling a vow in the temple. So was the early church confused in its theology of worship, trying to cling on to the obsolete until the temple was destroyed according to Christ’s own prophecy?

I don’t think so, for remember that Paul was attacked because the Jews thought he had brought Trophimus the Ephesian into the temple. But he hadn’t, for gentile believers could not enter the temple, and they had abandoned their attendance at the pagan temples. Gentiles perforce bought into the radical new Christian concept of worship, so I’m sure Jewish believers did too. Maybe Paul’s words to Jewish leaders once he arrived at Rome help explain this: “I have done nothing against our people, or against the customs of our ancestors.”

Paul no longer considers himself bound by the law of Moses, but is not alienated from it as a matter of ethnic solidarity. It appears that Judaean “Nazarenes” continued to follow national (ie Mosaic) customs as Christianity spread, just as Messianic believers in Israel now continue to keep sabbath, celebrate Passover, and so on, with God’s blessing.

But it was gentile believers, I think failing properly to distinguish Old and New Covenant dispensations, who began to reintroduce sacerdotalism, especially when, through Constantine, Christianity replaced sacerdotal paganism as the Imperial Cult (and so sacerdotalism unfortunately became the model both for the Catholic West and the Orthodox East). Purpose-built churches had long been necessary as congregations grew – but now they became based on Solomon’s temple, with the laity separated by a screen from the “altar” where the shared Eucharistic meal became a miraculously transubstantiated sacrifice offered by priests in rich vestments modeled on Aaron’s.

On that model, the whole New Testament worship theology becomes dissipated. “Church” is now God’s holy house, the priests are God’s called, holy and spiritually-gifted people (though other people with special rules and clothes, like monks and nuns, might be “religious” too). Before long the Holy Book in its Holy Latin language became jewel-encrusted and too holy for the laity to be trusted to understand. Dead priests become minor deities to be shown in icons or statues and invoked to intercede with Christ – as does Mary, the Theotokos.

Now the Reformers, notably the English Puritans, recovered the biblical ecclesiology, and when they had opportunity, threw out the sacerdotal trappings. It was good theology that replaced “sanctuaries” with “meeting houses,” “priests” with “ministers” or “elders” (presbyters) associated with the vocation and ministry of all believers, “the Mass” with “the Lord’s supper” (in early Anglicanism, before sacerdotal Archbishop Laud re-introduced altars, served from a plain wooden table in the body of the church), and by the mid-seventeenth century enrobed choirs with congregational hymns and psalms.

In so doing they acquired the unjust reputation of being miserable iconoclastic killjoys, whereas in reality they were returning the living Christ to the hearts of his people. And yet…

…I was watching a video about Moscow’s St Basil’s Cathedral yesterday. Its ethos is horribly sacerdotal, the commentary saying how the miracle of the Eucharist is performed only by the high priest behind a thick screen, as “appropriate” for such a holy event (the derivation from the Aaronic High Priest’s annual sortie into the Holy of Holies to make atonement for Israel is clear). It could not be more distant from the shared covenant-meal of Christ’s priestly people.

That apart, though, the exotic beauty of the architecture, and the sober devotion of the worshippers, young and old, singing without heavy metal backing and coloured lights (in conscious emulation of angels), was enormously attractive. I couldn’t help contrasting it with the philistinism of modern Evangelical meetings, where children (and not infrequently, their iPhoning parents!) wander round noisily as theologically naive and tuneless Hillsongs pulse from the PA.

Inside St Basil’s, the rich ornamentation is a deliberate reminder of the wondrous Garden of Eden which, with caveats, is the future hope we hold. Outside, the polychromatically painted domes and towers look for all the world like a baroque Victorian dessert, but are intended to represent the unearthly wonder of the New Jerusalem descending from heaven – also a theologically valid symbol of eschatological hope. I wondered if it is possible to combine this architectural and liturgical glory with a more biblical theology, somehow liberating Evangelical theology from its history of dour austerity or, latterly, of cultural “happy clappy” banality.

I’m not just thinking of mimicking remote Slavic Orthodoxy here. Much closer to home, even some of us Baptists can appreciate the architectural wonder of, say, Exeter Cathedral, aspiring to emulate heaven in arch and stained glass, garnished with the patina of a thousand years of Christian (and distinctly English) worship. More humbly, that same sense may be found in the seventh century chapel at Bradwell-on-Sea in Essex, or in many ancient parish churches across the country.

I don’t see why it’s impossible to build meeting-houses for beauty. It’s not only temples where aesthetics, symbolism, and reverence are celebrated. Art galleries, trade halls and parliaments can carry beauty and gravitas too. For heaven’s sake, even Victorian waterworks reflect the glory of creation more than many modern churches do! Why not decorate your hall polychromatically to resemble Eden? Why not celebrate two thousand years of not only Christianity, but British Christianity with some serious art-work, stained glass or even a few Gothic arches? Even your mediaeval painted rood screen might still have a place, so long as the communion table is this side of it, rather than being a stone alter that side. Folks spend money on beautifying their own homes, so why not the assembly-place of the saints?

Perhaps the problem is that you need an Ivan the Terrible to pay for it all. Time to step up, Elon?

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About Jon Garvey

Training in medicine (which was my career), social psychology and theology. Interests in most things, but especially the science-faith interface. The rest of my time, though, is spent writing, playing and recording music.
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5 Responses to Confusion over temples produces confusion over worship

  1. Peter Hickman says:

    Jon,

    I like your statement, ‘The meeting is only “worship” in the sense that all Christian life is to be worship.’ Indeed. As I may have mentioned before, from time to time when I’ve been asked, “Where do you worship?” I have been unable to resist the reply, “Everywhere, but especially in my garden”. I could add (but usually don’t) that I find engaging in worship most difficult in church meetings. That’s another story, the reasons for which I suspect you might empathise with.

    To pick up on your comment, ‘Purpose-built churches had long been necessary as congregations grew’, I’ve long called into question the need for purpose-built church meeting places.
    Apparently, the Dura-Europos Church in modern-day Syria, dated to around 233–256 CE, is the earliest identified Christian meeting house (or ‘house church’); it was a converted house, rather than having been purpose-built. But it was not until the 4th century, under Constantine, that larger dedicated meeting places started to become commonplace. I appreciate that the transition of Christianity from a minority, persecuted religion to one recognised by the Roman state may have contributed to this development.

    However, my reading of Scripture gives me no encouragement to believe that large meeting houses are necessary or desirable. Indeed, many of the instructions that Paul provides to the churches about the conduct of Christian gatherings seem to be capable of working in practice only if the congregation is not above a certain size. Over the years I have asked a number of church leaders why they make little or no attempt to apply the principles outlined by Paul, and the answer invariably is both that the congregation is too large for this to be practical and that keeping order would be too difficult.

    Recognising the benefits of small group meetings (‘home groups’), many churches have instituted these as a weekday event in addition to the Sunday morning convocation. In these circumstances, my question is then, “Why not dispense with the larger meeting, and have the home group meetings on a Sunday morning?”
    One down-side of weekday evening home group meetings is that mostly children do not attend – and surely they should, if we want them to engage fully, with adults, in the spiritual life of the church – instead they are subjected to large Sunday meetings in which they barely participate (also true of many adults, of course), or they are taken off to a side room for a separate children’s meeting, a poor compromise.

    In recent years some church leaders have decided to ‘downsize’. They have dispensed with their large church meetings and gone ‘back to the New Testament model of discipleship’ as they would describe it – Torben Sondergaard and Francis Chan, for example (I’m noting, not promoting them).

    I enjoy the beauty of some traditional church architecture as much as anyone. Of course, a building does not have to be dedicated to Christian worship to be architecturally beautiful. Other faiths have constructed beautiful buildings, and civilisations over the centuries have built wonderful structures, both religious and secular in purpose; those that remain we can admire and enjoy today. My point is that, whilst architecture and art can be glorious, it is not necessary to the proper functioning of the church. I would be content to leave it to Victorian waterworks, or concert halls, or indeed any civic or private buildings to demonstrate beauty in their structure.
    Yes, if we are going to build meeting houses then let’s build beautiful ones.
    I simply doubt that we need to build them at all.

    • Avatar photo Jon Garvey says:

      Thanks for your usual thoughtful reply, Peter.

      Evidence of early Christian meetings (when local fellowships became large enough to out-grow a living room) is small. But a couple of thoughts:

      (a) Acts records the believers gathering en masse in Solomon’s portico when numbers overall were in the thousands (many of the first tranche, no doubt, being diaspora Jews present for Pentecost). It suggests that, at least on occasion, large meetings enabled the sharing of many gifts.

      (b) It seems that the first Christian meetings followed, roughly, the pattern of the synagogues, and Acts seems to confirm that. When significant proportions of a synagogue were excluded because they had converted to Christ, and were augmented by Gentiles, the obvious thing would have been to find a similar alternative venue (like the lecture hall of Tyrannus in Corinth?).

      I’d suggest that gifted pastoral and teaching gifts are uncommon enough to require good teachers to be spread relatively thinly, at least beyond the capacity of an average sitting room (the full number of my own house group would already fill our larger than usual lounge, but we hold it in the church building because it’s central).

      And don’t forget that in NT times, if you only had two or three well-to-do believers in a city, their houses would be large enough to accommodate servants, dinner parties and local political events, as suggested by the house of John Mark’s mother accommodating a mass-prayer meeting for Peter, who also knew where the church would be gathered. So a house church might be a lot larger than is practical now.

  2. Ben says:

    What gives me historical vertigo is these two conflicting facts:

    – I am often astounded by small villages with impressive central churches that must have been incredibly expensive when they were built. As you say for the church in Russia, whatever the ins and outs of their theology of worship, people clearly thought that the church, or God, or whatever happened “in there” was sufficiently important to invest considerable time and effort to make something big, central, and beautiful.

    – Nowadays, in the UK and elsewhere, many beautiful buildings are being bought-up or abandoned, for lack of anyone who meets in them.

    • Avatar photo Jon Garvey says:

      Yes – places like St Basil’s may have been symbols of Ivan’s victory over the Muslims, but he could have built a triumphal arch or a swimming pool, and chose a church.

      As you say, especially in villages, whilst the quality of the parish church reflects the prosperity of the local big-wigs (and remember that sometimes a quiet village now was a major industrial centre in 1500), the building is still purpose built to serve the people in serving God. Communities of merchants or rich gentry gave of their best for the glory of God and the good of their souls.

      They may have been flaunting their wealth, but actually why would a billionaire take the trouble to impress a few villagers?

      I guess the answer to the church becoming a mosque or a warehouse is for the churches to evangelise instead of trying to prove their DEI credentials or make a mediaeval building “relevant” to a culturally-starved iPhone generation.

  3. Avatar photo Jon Garvey says:

    I’ve just discovered Tom Wadsworth, who has spent a lifetime working through the New Testament’s radical theology of “meeting” and “worship” I have described here and here.

    A good introduction is here, from which you can click on Tom’s name, find his YouTube page and work through a seven-part video series. I’m interested that he deals specifically with the modern “worship music” cult in Part 5, which I have dealt with a few times.

    Perhaps one thing he misses is how it is Charismatic/Pentecostal Theology that, counterintuitively, has given a boost to the sacerdotalism that the Emperor Constantine’s time introduced, though superficially it seems poles apart.

    Yet in the first millennium, the Church sought to impress pagans with the splendour of its worship services in the great basilicas, with priests in fine array, glorious music, light and colour – in every possible way a “foretaste of heaven.” Yet it was a totally passive emotional experience for the congregation. Replace priests, choirs and lamps with worship leaders, worship bands and light shows, and you still have a passive congregation hoping to encounter God, rather than build each other up to maturity in Christ.

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