John Nelson Darby, famous religious innovator of The Rapture, was the youngest of six sons, another example in support of Frank Sulloway's thesis

 

J.N. Darby 1800-1882

1996

Sulloway is important for challenging the crisis theory of scientific revolutions propounded by Thomas Kuhn, showing how many revolutionary personalities, who tend to be later or last borns, rebelled against well established consensus views which though long in the tooth were in no danger of going away.

Darby's innovations, interestingly enough, came to him after experiencing serious injuries when he fell from a horse when he was still 26.  

The Gospel of Luke's unique use of "pestilences" (loimoi) turns Jewish apocalyptic into Greek

And great earthquakes shall be in divers places, and famines, and pestilences; and fearful sights and great signs shall there be from heaven. (King James Version)

(σεισμοί τε μεγάλοι κατὰ τόπους καὶ λιμοὶ καὶ λοιμοὶ ἔσονται φόβητρά τε καὶ σημεῖα ἀπ᾽ οὐρανοῦ μεγάλα ἔσται) (Textus Receptus)

-- Luke 21:11

The parallel use of loimoi in Matthew 24:7, found in the KJV and NKJV (footnoted), is weakly attested in the manuscripts and is therefore omitted by the NIV, ESV, RSV, ASV, NET and NASB.

Luke alone in the New Testament uses the otherwise relatively rare "loimos" (see in Bruzzone, below, p. 890), and in but one other place, Acts 24:5. There Luke puts the word in the mouth of a trained orator employed by the Jews to accuse St. Paul of being a "pest", which is quite funny actually (cf. Demosthenes 25.80). It must have been the mention of "famines", "limoi", in the tradition received by Luke which probably triggered his addition of "pestilences". 

This is likely because "limoi" and "loimoi", "famines" and "pestilences", are part of a classic literary constellation of calamities, those two especially and frequently in combination with "polemos", "war" (which Luke also has in 21:9f., kicking off the list of troubles). These terms in combination reach deep into Greek memory, back to such eminences as Homer (Iliad 1.61), Hesiod (Erga 243), Aeschylus (Suppliants 659), the historian Herodotus (7.171.2; 8.115.2f.), Plato (Laws 709A), Pindar, Sophocles, and particularly to the historian Thucydides (1.23; 2.47; 2.54), whose account of the famine and plague at Athens opens his History of the Peloponnesian War. The pairing of famine and plague in particular had become a topos taught in the schools already by the time of the Attic orator Aeschines (3.135), so thoroughly ingrained in the imagination had it become by then (see now Rachel Bruzzone, "Polemos, Pathemata, and Plague: Thucydides' Narrative and the Tradition of Upheaval", Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 57 (2017) 882-909, esp. 888ff., here).

As an obviously educated writer, Luke probably had learned the topos as a boy. 

Once this is appreciated, one can also observe and better appreciate Luke's (double) introduction of the felicitous "te...kai" construction, also in imitation of good style found in Herodotus and Thucydides in similar contexts, and how Luke uses it to pair "great earthquakes" with this topos "famines and plagues" in the first half of the sentence on the one hand, and in the second half of the sentence, the "signs from heaven" with a description of them as "both fearsome and great" on the other.

The only translation I know of which even attempts to capture this, at least in the first half of the sentence, surprisingly, is that of J. N. Darby:

there shall be both great earthquakes in different places, and famines and pestilences; and there shall be fearful sights and great signs from heaven.

Luke's is a morbidly beautiful sentence in its way, if not pulled off entirely successfully, attempting as it does to express how more or less two things of all too familiar and essentially terrestrial terror will be doubly echoed in the heavenly realm by signs at once spectacular and disturbing, confirming the gods' displeasure with men:

There shall be both great signs in place after place, as well as famines and pestilences, and signs from heaven both fearsome and great.

These "te...kai" and topos niceties are wholly lacking in Matthew 24:7 and Mark 13:8, which are artless and probably closer to the original form of the saying, omitting "pestilences" and "both...and". Hence the confusion in the manuscripts with the word order in Luke 21:11 itself, producing many variant readings, because the introduction of the terminology by Luke fought with the received elements.

It's all Luke's fault.

Smart people are frequently misunderstood.

But if one can keep from getting bogged down in all that for one moment, it points to the effort made by Luke to make the apocalyptic teaching of the Christians intelligible to Greek minds. He's trying to make it sound even more familiar to them than it already was. And this begs the question of the origin of Christian apocalyptic in the first place. Just how Hellenized was all this to begin with? It looks more plausible to me after reading Bruzzone, who, by the way, says narry a word about it. The success of the Christian movement is at least partly explained by the resonance of its message with the actual hopes and the fears shared by its hosts.

Bruzzone makes a good case that the Greek tradition is immemorially rich with suspicions of divine involvement in human ills of civil strife, war, natural calamities, such as earthquakes and tsunamis, as well as wonders and portents in the skies, and on the earth below famine, plague, and mass death (loigos). All of these things are associated, if not always in every detail, with the gospels' memory of Jesus' apocalyptic teaching . . . and with Thucydides.

Oh my God, not Thucydides.

This unique case in Luke's Gospel involving pestilence might lead some quickly to say and too quickly to say, "See, Luke was a physician, preoccupied with 'medical' terminology. That's all this is." Well, that hardly makes Luke a physician than it makes one of Thucydides.

But maybe it makes Luke an historian, and a very Greek one at that, at least in his own imagination.

Quelle surprise: Rob Bell speaks up for a version of progressive revelation

Quoted here:

'See? It completely contradicts itself.' And it does, unless you read it as an unfolding story and you realize that these two different passages were written at two different times, and they reflect a growing sophistication in thinking. Now we have something very interesting. We see that people were growing and evolving in their thinking about the divine. That’s a story that we are much more likely to find ourselves in. 

Well, why shouldn't Rob Bell go for progressive revelation?

After all, it's a convenient justification for jettisoning things in the Bible he objects to . . . like hell. To Rob Bell, hell isn't an example of our current state of evolved, sophisticated thinking, so the interpretive principle permits him to relegate it to an earlier, now obsolete stage of God's revelation to man.

But progressive revelation is also basic to the dispensational theology of Bell's former Evangelical faith.

You can take the man out of the Evangelicalism, but you can't take the Evangelicalism out of the man.

The modernist prejudice behind the theory of progressive revelation here is obvious, if little noticed by its critics, implying that the Biblical ancients weren't as enlightened as we are.

This is the sort of dismissive attitude toward the past which makes it impossible to understand them on their own terms, meaning there is a predisposition to misunderstand them.

But Evangelicals, former or otherwise, are particulary vulnerable to this lurch because of the degree to which their own heritage struggled with and assimilated modernism.

Rob Bell is only late heir of an age which long before us was already digesting modernism from the Christian point of view, for example in Thomas Dehany Bernard's The Progress of Doctrine in the New Testament, the Bampton Lecture from 1864.

More specifically, however, progressive revelation was the essential modernist presupposition of J. N. Darby's dispensationalist theology, without which we wouldn't have Evangelicalism in the first place, with its easy compartmentalization of features of God's revelation which are an effront to post-Enlightenment reason: food laws, animal sacrifice, capital punishment, just war, etc.

Apart from the obvious, that there is a development of ideas in the Bible which can be demonstrated historically, the very idea of progress itself remains, however, an unquestioned value of our time which we've inherited from modernity, which overthrew the ancient world's agriculturally inspired ideas of cyclicality, birth and death, and eternal return.

And Christians and secularists alike share it . . . in droves.

But it must be asked: Is it really progress in divine thinking to travel from the age of faith under the Patriarchs, to the slaughter of animals under Moses, to the human sacrifice of the Son of God under Paul, to the mass murdering of tens of millions of the age of the Enlightenment?

The more I look at the ceaseless ages run the more the pattern looks like degeneracy to me.

Over 7 billion people inhabit the planet today. But by 1 AD over 40 billion were already dead. What do we know that they did not? Only that Princess Leia is dead, too.

The prophets of the Old Testament, whose heirs John the Baptist and Jesus were, dreamed by contrast with our Christian world of the interminable Sacrifice of the Mass of a world finally founded by God eternally upon justice, without violence, without tears and without death, however mediated that must be through judgment. Appropriately, they were tortured and killed.

I fancy that we have been fooled into thinking that we have made progress at all by the times in which we have been living, that is, by the Holocene, which began approximately 11,700 years ago.

We don't grasp that we bask in the glow of a dying interglacial, and cannot bear that The Ice Man returneth.

The next round is on me!

Jesus didn't teach a rapture of the just

Jesus Didn't Teach a 'Rapture' of the Just

Jesus simply taught an imminent end of the world and final judgment, at which time the Son of Man (himself) would appear in the heavens with the clouds of glory and with the holy angels, who would separate the wicked from the just, cleansing God's kingdom, the world, from all evil, casting the wicked into eternal fire, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Jesus called for removing all evil from the world as a matter of first importance, then gathering the righteous together after that.

This is the plain meaning of the parable of the tares and of the wheat, which must grow up together until the end in order to preserve the just alive. We are told that the angels first bundle up the tares, and throw them into the flames. Otherwise their presence would complicate what comes next. The wheat left behind must be winnowed with a fork, and its kernel separated and gathered with the rest into God's barn.

This is also the plain meaning of Jesus' analogy to the days of Noah, when the earth was cleansed of evil by water. So of the two workers in the field and of the two women at the mill, the one removed in each instance is the wicked one, not the righteous one. They are gathered by the angels, yes even caught up in the air perhaps, and consigned immediately to the flames.

This is the plain meaning of Matthew 13, and even of Matthew 24 which is a later attempt to rationalize the teaching of Jesus from the point of view of the failure of his prediction of the end of the world during his lifetime. The evidence is conveniently assembled for you here.

 

It is the also the plain teaching of the Old Testament.

 

The earth is the LORD'S, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.

 

-- Psalm 24:1

 

The righteous shall never be removed: but the wicked shall not inhabit the earth.

 

-- Proverbs 10:30  

Larry Norman in the early 1970s is an example of one who popularized (in his music-"the Son has come and you've been left behind") the misconception that the just would be "raptured" from the earth, leaving the damned behind to suffer the end of the world.

In truth, the idea goes back to J.N. Darby in the early 19th century, and before him into the 18th, in keeping with all the other bad ideas of modernity. We seem to get things exactly backwards.

So if you're still here at 7 PM tomorrow night, count it all joy my brethren! Old men dream dreams. It's just that they might not know what they mean.