David C. Mitchell, in Jesus – The Incarnation of the Word, makes a case for the mysterious Melchizedek, priest of El-Elyon and King of Salem in Genesis 18, being a “pre-incarnation theophany” of Jesus.
He builds his case partly on second temple literature making a connection between Melchizedek and the expected Messiah, but largely on a linguistic argument that Psalm 110:4, the only OT text outside Genesis that mentions him, should perhaps be translated “You are a priest forever according to my decree, O Melchizedek,” rather than the more usual “according to the order of Melchizedek.” This therefore identifies David’s Messianic Lord of v1 as Melchizedek, rather than merely comparing his priesthood to Melchizedek’s.
Mitchell argues that the same meaning is possible in the Greek Septuagint, which the writer of Hebrews cites in his comparison of Christ with Melchizedek in chapters 5-7. Here, to me, the argument gets a little strained, because in order to explain the references in 5:10, 6:20 and 7:11, he has to argue that the writer is rather artificially using direct quotes in an ungrammatical way. The last reference is particularly hard to interpret as “by my decree, (O) Melchizedek” since it immediately goes on to contrast the priestly order of Aaron, made obsolete by the new order decree. Still, it’s possible.
So the theory is interesting, but it seems to me that Hebrews is, as most commentators have said, using the Genesis Melchizedek passage almost as a literary analogy to Christ… Except that even if that is so, the comparison includes, as well as the lack of genealogy or descendants, which might not be important, the superiority of Melchizedek not only to the Mosaic priesthood, but to Abraham himself (because the greater blesses the lesser and receives tithes from him, Hebrews 7:7); and also the “eternal priesthood” that is based on Melchizedek’s “indestructible life” (7:15-16).
As Mitchell rightly points out, it’s hard to imagine how the historical Melchizedek could be superior to God’s chosen Patriarch of salvation, Abram, nor how there can be room in the world for two eternal high priests, one of whom is merely a bronze-age priest-king. So perhaps (if Mitchell is indeed pushing the linguistic argument too far) Hebrews is being as coy about Melichizedek’s identity as Genesis is, without actually denying a real connection with Jesus.
And that brings me to my main point in this blog, which is that a similar coyness is found regarding all the divine theophanies in Genesis and elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible. In more than one place, but particularly in Genesis 18. Abram meets God, or “the angel of YHWH,” in human form. In that chapter, it is only be careful reading and deduction that we find the three men are actually YHWH and two accompanying angels, and he converses with the first face to face to plead for Sodom.
Similar examples are found in the figure with whom Jacob wrestles physically, in Genesis 32, which he understands as having “seen God face to face,” and in the God whom Moses meets “face to face, as friends speak,” on Mount Sinai. There are several other examples.
All this would be of less significance if the same Old Testament did not insist, from the Lord’s own mouth, that “man shall not see me and live” (Exodus 33:20). YHWH is not like Zeus. The New Testament confirms that nobody ever has seen God in John 1:18. The Old Testament doesn’t even try to resolve this apparent conflict, simply leaving the claims of God’s complete hiddenness to lie alongside numerous instances of saints seeing him, and offering worship which is accepted. This is in complete contrast to the appearances of ordinary angels, who always refuse worship as mere servants of God.
And so our mysterious Melchizedek actually presents a similarly unresolved dilemma, that of the priest of El-Elyon and King of peace, whose name means king of righteousness. Though he appears from nowhere, and disappears as completely, he is greater than Abraham, who tithes to him as only God is tithed elsewhere. Yet his superiority (as Hebrews carefully points out) is not justified by genealogy or by any other institution. Furthermore, David’s Psalm 110 – the most quoted Scripture throughout the whole New Testament, including by Jesus – at the least compares the coming Messiah to him as an eternal King and Priest. If Mitchell is right about the Hebrew of Psalm 110, then Messiah actually is Melchizedek, and even if Mitchell is not right on the language, there really are no other viable candidates.
Now if, as Trinitarian Christians, we ask which Person of the Trinity would be most likely to manifest as a theophany in human form, the answer is obviously the Son, since the Father dwells in unapproachable light (and so was never seen by any man), and the Spirit is by very nature invisible. So the doctrine of the Trinity answers a glaring contradiction left hanging in the air by the Old Testament.
That rather implies that Trinitarian doctrine was implicit in the inspired Scriptures from the start. It’s as if the Torah was challenging the Israelites with a contradiction, and inviting them to look forward to its resolution in some future revelation.
Therefore when the apostles used the Scriptures to prove the deity of Jesus Christ as well as his Messiahship, they were only drawing out teaching that was already there. Jesus did the same (still rather cryptically) in Mark 12 (which I preached on here last year). Richard Bauckham has argued for a nuanced (ie non-simplistic) concept of the oneness of God in second temple Judaism, in Jesus and the God of Israel, but it seems to me that the theophanies in the Torah demonstrate that such an idea was present, in embryo, from the very start. If not, then Moses was asking Israel to believe contrdictory things: that nobody can ever see God, and that many people have seen him, face to face.
If that conclusion holds, then it’s very rational to believe that Melchizedek and Jesus Christ are one and the same Logos – the first an appearance in human form, but the second, infinitely more significant, the Son taking on human nature as a servant, facing its death, and raising it to heaven. That makes for some interesting christological conclusions back in 1800 BC, some of which David Mitchell observes.
For example, although God promises to bless Abram when he calls him from Ur, the only actual blessing is that given by Melchizedek, together with bread and wine, which as far as I know are only named together, in connection with salvation, in Jesus’s institution of the Eucharist.
That provides a rather astonishing concrete foundation for Galatians 3:8, which says that God preached the gospel in advance to Abraham. Jesus said “Your father Abraham rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it and was glad.” (John 8:56). Maybe, like the disciples at Emmaus, he saw it through broken bread and covenantal wine in the hands of Jesus himself!
