Sometimes a little biblical detective work can open new windows into our understanding of the stories of the New Testament.

The Priest

The Gospel of John tells us that when Jesus was betrayed: “.… They bound him and brought him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year” (John 18:12-13).  The apostle John apparently knew some of the high priest’s family and was able to provide this detail not found in the other Gospels.

Annas (also called Ananus and Ananias) himself was an interesting character. Serving as High Priest for ten years, from AD 6–15, this man was the patriarch of a dynasty of priests.  Immensely powerful, when he was deposed by the Roman procurator Gratus,  Annas maintained a high degree of power through arranging the appointment of his five sons (Eleazar, Jonathan, Theophilus, Matthias, Ananus) and his son-in-law, Caiaphas, to succeed him.
 
The Jewish High Priest normally served for life (Numbers 35:25, 28), so the rapid-fire changes in succession after Annas suggest that he may have worked to ensure that he kept control of things as the real power behind the temple hierarchy.  This maintaining power while technically deposed would explain why Annas was able to continue as head of the Jewish Sanhedrin (Acts 4:6), and perhaps explains why, when Jesus was arrested, he was first taken not to “Caiaphas, the high priest that year,” but to Annas.  In fact, so real was Annas’ behind-the-scenes power that Luke records the word of God came to John the Baptist “during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (Luke 3:2).

The Plot

In his Gospel, the apostle John gives us another bit of information relative to the dealings of the chief priests.   After Jesus raised Lazarus from the grave, John tells us that “… a large crowd of Jews found out that Jesus was there and came, not only because of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.  So the chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and believing in him” (John 12:9). 

Again, John may have learned this perhaps because of his contacts in the high priestly households; but it is clear that this was a very real plot to get rid of not only Jesus himself, but also Lazarus as evidence of Christ’s miracle.  Although Annas is not mentioned by name, it is inconceivable that such a plot would have been made without the knowledge of the chief priest and his sons – though it was more likely instigated by them as the “chief priests.” To understand the significance of this background, we must look at one of Jesus’ parables given at that time.

The Parable

In his parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man, Jesus told his listeners: “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus …” (Luke 16:19-20).  The parable continues to say that when he died, in the afterlife, the rich man implored the patriarch Abraham “… I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment” (vss. 27-28).

Notice that although the NIV says “to my family,” the Greek actually says “to my father's house” (as translated in the ESV and almost all other versions).  When Abraham replies that  “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them,” the rich man responds “No, father Abraham …but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent” (vss. 9-30).  To this Abraham states conclusively:  “… If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead” (vs. 31).

The cast of characters in this parable are unmistakable.  Although “Lazarus” is not specified to be the Lazarus of Bethany Christ raised from the dead, the New Testament does not speak of any other Lazarus; had it been a different individual, John would surely have identified him as he does in other instances when multiple people shared the same name.

The “rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen” is surely the high priest Caiaphas whose robes were exactly as described. Conclusively, the rich man has a father and five brothers.  In the close families of ancient Palestine, “brothers” could mean blood bothers or brothers-in-law.  So the identity of these individuals is clear – they are none other than Caiaphas (the rich man), Annas (the father) and his five sons (the brothers-in-law).  If this were not the case, there would have been no reason for Jesus to include five brothers in the parable – the rich man could just have pleaded for his family.

For Jesus’ original hearers it was doubtless clear that his parable made the point that just as the rich man’s father and brothers would not believe even after the return of the Lazarus of the parable from the dead, so the actual high priestly family had not believed when the real Lazarus had indeed been raised.   Understood this way, the story of Lazarus and the rich man is paralleled by  a number of other parables in which Jesus used actual historical situations of his day (see our free e-book on the parables for other examples).
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There is also perhaps a small practical lesson we can take from this understanding of Jesus’ parable: the unfailing discretion of Jesus.  Although the characters of his parable may have been recognizable to his audience, Jesus did not go as far as identifying them by name. This fits the pattern we see throughout the New Testament in which Jesus never identifies and condemns individuals by name, only as groups – the Pharisees, scribes, tax collectors, or whatever.  Although he could have publicly accused and discredited specific individuals on many occasions, Christ did not do so in his human life. In our own time – a time of heightened political invective – this is an example for every Christian to consider.

What is the most difficult book to understand in the Bible?  Is it one of the Old Testament prophets with its strange oracles and prophecies?  Or, in the New Testament, how about one of the apostle Paul’s epistles with its complex theological arguments?  The answer is almost certainly neither, but a book many of us feel we just don’t understand very well: the Old Testament’s Book of Ecclesiastes.

We all know the book that follows Proverbs in our Bibles.  Often, after reading Proverbs, we may quickly read through its difficult neighbor, but we seldom spend time in Ecclesiastes.  Many Christians feel uncomfortable reading it, as it seems to be a book that offers conclusions based on a view of life as meaningless.  But is this really the message of Ecclesiastes?  

Composed by King Solomon “The son of David, king in Jerusalem” (Ecclesiastes 2:16 could not have been written by any of Solomon’s successors), Ecclesiastes is unique in the Old Testament in that it hardly mentions the nation or law of Israel. Instead it stands back and looks at the most basic truths about life apart from any specific theological context.

But that is not to say, as many people presume, that the book offers a picture of life without God.  God is actually very present in the book – from the first chapter to the last. In fact, God is mentioned some 42 times within the twelve chapters of the book – an average of almost four times each chapter!

Another false assumption about Ecclesiastes is that it carries a message of unavoidable unhappiness with life; yet it frequently urges us to rejoice in the good things we experience (for example, Ecclesiastes 11:8-10).  Despite another common misconception, the theme of the book is not that nothing matters. Ecclesiastes concludes with the summary that “… God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil” (Ecclesiastes 12:14), showing in fact that ultimately everything does matter.

But on the way to that conclusion, Ecclesiastes searches the whole range of human experience – including pleasure, work, foolishness and even despair – and finds it all empty. “Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless” (Ecclesiastes 1:2). 

It is this unrelenting assessment that can make us uneasy in reading the book, yet that is not the book’s conclusion.  Ecclesiastes is brutally honest about the frustrating and inexplicable aspects of life, but as theologian N.T. Wright has written, it “encourages the reader to a God-centered worldview rather than falling victim to frustrations and unanswered questions.”  

Ecclesiastes is in constant tension between present reality and ultimate reality. What we experience now is contrasted with what we will experience eventually. We see this constantly throughout the book, but consider a single example: 

​“There is something else meaningless that occurs on earth: the righteous who get what the wicked deserve, and the wicked who get what the righteous deserve” (Ecclesiastes 8:14).

This may sound fatalistic in the extreme, but it is balanced with an opposite truth:

“Although a wicked person who commits a hundred crimes may live a long time, I know that it will go better with those who fear God, who are reverent before him. Yet because the wicked do not fear God, it will not go well with them, and their days will not lengthen like a shadow” (Ecclesiastes 8:12-13).

The apparent contradiction between the fact that the wicked “may live a long time” and “their days will not lengthen” is resolved when we see that Ecclesiastes continually contrasts what is wrong in the present with what will be made right in the future.  It continually returns to a position where meaning is found in the longer-term view of things – even though we may not understand God’s plans or purposes at this time (Ecclesiastes 8:17). 
 
So although the words of the Preacher paint a graphic picture of the futility of life from the perspective of the present, Ecclesiastes does admit to meaning when eternity is considered. When we see that, we realize that the hardest book in the Bible is simply one which requires us to admit two opposite but equally correct truths. Much of life may seem futile now, but life will not have been futile eventually. Ecclesiastes admits the problems of the present life, but also looks beyond to a reality in which wrongs will be righted and what may now seem meaningless ultimately will be seen as having meaning.

​Scriptures in Question:
 
 
“ … you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live” (Exodus 33:20).
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“The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend” (Exodus 33:11).
  

 
The Bible makes it clear that God is invisible to physical eyes, and that even if we could see him we could not live (Exodus 33:20, 1 Timothy 6:16, etc.). Yet there are also scriptures that show individuals have claimed to have seen God (Exodus 33:11, etc.).   The answer to this seeming contradiction is that in some circumstances God revealed himself to certain individuals – in human or angelic form (Genesis 32:30, Judges 13:22), with very reduced glory (Exodus 33:18-23), or in a vision (Acts 7:55-56).

But what about the rest of us?  For now, at least, we can only “see” God conceptually (both the Hebrew and Greek words used in the Bible for “see” can mean to see with the eye or to see in the mind – as in “I see what you mean”).  Eventually, we are promised that we will see God in his fullness: “… we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2b).   So when Christ affirmed that “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matthew 5:8), he undoubtedly was referring to both our present conceptual view of God and our future literal view.
 
The apostle Paul elaborated on this fact for us in his inspiring words:  “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). Paul’s statement is doubly inspiring because it affirms not only our future clear view of God, but also the fact that we can presently see him – conceptually – if we wish to look.

How do we do this – how do we see God to the extent that is now possible?  We can certainly read the scriptures that talk about God, but not many give detailed descriptions. Is there something else we can do? Someone else once asked that same question. The Gospel of John records that one of the twelve disciples – Philip – asked Jesus:

“Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:8-9). 
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Because Jesus was God in human form (John 1:1, 14), when people saw him, they were seeing God.  When we read the detailed accounts of Jesus’ life and ministry, we can “see” God in that sense, too. The privilege and pleasure of doing exactly that is one of the greatest aspects – and purposes – of studying the word of God:  of seeing “The Word” in “the word.” It should always be in the forefront of our minds as we approach the Bible.

“You are the light of the world…” (Matthew 5:14).

As Christians we are all aware of Jesus’ words that his followers were to be the “light of the world” (Matthew 5:14), but how do we accomplish that – what exactly is involved in being the light God wants us to be?

Fortunately, the apostle John answers that question for us in his first epistle. John begins his letter, in fact, by stressing that “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:10). He continues in the second chapter of his epistle by showing that it is our responsibility to not only reflect that light, but also to live in it – to become part of it – and he shows us how we can know that we are being successful in this:

“Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates a brother or sister is still in the darkness. Anyone who loves their brother and sister lives in the light, and there is nothing in them to make them stumble. But anyone who hates a brother or sister is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness. They do not know where they are going, because the darkness has blinded them” (1 John 2:9-11).

If we look carefully at what John tells us in these verses, we see that he presents three tests, three ways we can know that we are, indeed, “in the light” and able to “be” the light we are called to be.  First he gives us the most basic test of love, stressing that if love is manifest throughout our lives we are living in the light (1 John 2:9).
  
Next, John shows that a person living in love is living in obedience – there is nothing in them to make them stumble (1 John 2:10). This is not to say that we are perfect, of course (1 John 1:8), but that our way of life is one that seeks and follows obedience to God: “If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.  But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:6-7).  John makes the need for obedience even more explicit in the following chapter: "We know that we have come to know him if we keep his commands. Whoever says, 'I know him,' but does not do what he commands is a liar, and the truth is not in that person” (1 John 2:3-4).  

Finally, although it is easier to miss than the first two points John makes regarding our relationship with the light,  John speaks of those who do:  “… not know where they are going, because the darkness has blinded them” (1 John 2:11).  The point here is that those who do not walk in the light are in darkness – meaning they do not see and understand spiritual things as they should.  They do not understand the truth. To put the same thought positively, if we are walking in the light, we will have an understanding of spiritual truth. This thought underlies John’s comment later in his letter that: “… whoever lives by the truth comes into the light …” (John 3:21).  Living in the light involves understanding and living by the truth.
 
The apostle Paul made this connection even more directly when he wrote: “The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel…” (2 Corinthians 4:4). In fact, Paul’s writings dovetail with those of John perfectly in this matter. Notice what he tells the Christians at Ephesus: “for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth” (Ephesians 5:9). These points are exactly those mentioned by John in only slightly different wording. Combining John’s three aspects of walking in the light with Paul’s summary of the “fruit” or result of living in the light, we see: love=goodness, obedience=righteousness, truth=truth.
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These, then, are the three tests and proofs of our walking in the light.  If we really are walking in such a way that the light of God may be seen in us, we will be walking in love, obedience, and truth.  Other scriptures make it clear that one or the other of these aspects is not enough.  We can have truth without love, we can have obedience without love, and we can love at least to some degree without obedience or truth. Both John and Paul show us that we must have all three of these aspects of light in our lives, and that it is not enough to see the light, we must also be the light.