Why God Hides

Atonement & Apocalypse

Nothing is hidden except to be made manifest; nor is anything secret except to come to light. (Mark 4:22)

A friend of mine is currently reading through the whole Bible, cover to cover, in forty days (good on ya, mate). As you might imagine, taking in the Scriptures in such concentrated form can allow you to see things you wouldn’t normally see, and he’s had some cool observations so far. He’s also raised some interesting questions. Here’s one he sent me just the other day:

“Why do you think apocalyptic literature makes up so much of the biblical canon? Every time I read it I feel pretty lost.”

So let’s get technical for a second. By “apocalyptic literature,” my friend is speaking of a genre of Jewish/Christian texts, which depict a revelatory experience communicated through other-worldly interpreters to a human recipient, usually with highly symbolic language. Now, if my friend had asked a bible scholar the question he asked me, I imagine the answer would have gone something like this, “Well, technically, there isn’t that much apocalyptic literature in our Bible. Revelation and the second half of the Book of Daniel are the only biblical texts which officially qualify. The rest comes from Jewish texts from the Second Temple period such as 1 Enoch, 4 Ezra, and the Book of Jubilees.”

And that’s all well and good. But my own take is that my friend’s intuition was a good one. Many passages in the latter part of the Old Testament, which is what my friend was reading, contain strong apocalyptic elements, especially the books of Zechariah, Ezekiel, Isaiah, Joel and (I would argue) Job.¹ And yes, these texts can seem very dark and hard to understand, which is a bit ironic given the fact that “apocalypse,” the Greek title for the last book of the New Testament, simply means “uncovering” or “revelation.”

In common parlance, of course, “apocalypse” tends to mean “the end of the world,” and brings to mind all sorts of violent and horrific imagery. And certainly those themes are present in Scripture too. Which raises the question: if “apocalypse” is ultimately about the appearance or revelation of God in the world, shouldn’t that be a good thing? God is love. Shouldn’t we want him to appear?

Well, yes. But also, no. It’s…complicated.

This led me to lay out for my friend (and for you now) another grand theory I have about the structure of the story of the Bible, which centers on two words.

Two Movements: Atonement & Apocalypse

Let’s begin with the aforementioned question:

Why is apocalypse scary and confusing? Shouldn’t we want God to appear? And shouldn’t it be relatively straightforward when he finally does?

Well, after the fall, the unveiling of the presence of God to humans—without all the humans, uh, dying—becomes a complicated matter. Recall Moses on Sinai: “Show me your glory.” And what was the Lord’s response?

“I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the Lord, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. But,” he said, “you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.”(Exodus 33:19-20)

There’s the problem. Since the fall, direct revelation of God is impossible without death by holiness. But…the Lord also provides Moses with a partial solution to this problem.

“There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock. When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen.” (Exodus 33:21-23)

The Lord’s merciful answer to Moses is to give him a partial revelation (his back) by means of a proper covering (the cleft of the rock). This…is very important.

If you’ve been reading along for a while, you’ll recall that I have elsewhere proposed that the Bible can be seen as the story of two opposite flowing streams, holiness (“setting apart”) and inclusion (“bringing in”), which ultimately flow together in Christ and his church. Applying this framework can help us to see things in Scripture which we might have otherwise missed or misunderstood. I’d like to propose another framework here, which can similarly help us to see the pattern of God’s redemptive project from Genesis to Revelation more clearly. In short, the Bible is the story of two seemingly opposite movements: atonement (“covering”) and apocalypse (“uncovering”).

Here’s what I mean…

Atonement as Covering

The word for “atonement” in the Old Testament is the Hebrew word kaphar, which literally means “to cover or conceal.”² Kaphar is the word used in “Yom Kippur,” the Day of Atonement, in Leviticus 16. The chapter begins like this:

The Lord spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they approached the Lord. The Lord said to Moses: “Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come whenever he chooses into the Most Holy Place behind the curtain in front of the atonement cover on the ark, or else he will die. For I will appear in the cloud over the atonement cover.” (Lev. 16:1-2)

Here again we see the problem of unmediated or improperly mediated exposure to God. The presence of a holy God is not to be taken lightly. In chapter 10, Aaron’s sons approached the Lord improperly and died. Now the Lord is reiterating to Aaron the proper way to come into his presence, which involves…coverings. First and foremost, Aaron is commanded to sprinkle the blood of a sacrificed bull and goat on the mercy seat (kaporet, sometimes translated “atonement cover”) and then on the altar. The sprinkled blood serves as a covering for the priest and for the people’s sin (though it is not explained exactly what this means). While in the Holy of Holies, Aaron is also commanded to burn incense in order to “conceal” the mercy seat.

[Aaron] is to put the incense on the fire before the Lord, and the smoke of the incense will conceal the atonement cover above the tablets of the covenant law, so that he will not die. (Lev. 16:13)

The idea here seems to be much the same. The smoke of the incense “covers” the room as the blood covers the mercy seat, so that Aaron will not die in the presence of God. And just as the smoke covers the room, a linen veil divides the Holy of Holies from the rest of the tabernacle and further layers of curtains and animal-skin coverings conceal the tabernacle, protecting the people from the danger of the holiness of God, so that they do not suffer the same fate as Aaron’s sons. Layers upon layers upon layers of coverings.

But this is neither the beginning nor the end of the story of coverings/atonements. After Adam and Eve eat of the tree, what’s the first thing they do?

Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. (Gen. 3:7)

But when God appears, Adam and Eve seem to become immediately aware that their own coverings are insufficient. So they hide amongst the trees (further covering/concealment). The Lord, then makes “garments of skin” for them and clothes them, a more costly and effective covering (death to cover them from death). But while this better covering proves enough to keep them alive, it is not enough to keep them in the presence of a holy God. Further layers are needed. They must be cast out of Eden. Cherubim and a flaming sword guard the way in. And of course, images of these same cherubim will eventually sit atop the mercy seat and be imprinted on the veils and curtains of the tabernacle.

Not long after, Cain is covered with a mark by God after killing his brother. His ancestors cover themselves with cities and weapons. Fast forward to Exodus. The law is given as a covering over the people of God (as Paul makes clear). The law of Moses, like the tabernacle with its veils, allows the people of Abraham’s promise to stay close enough to the presence of God, through obedience, not to die of alienation, but also guards them from coming too close too casually, lest they die of holiness.

Apocalypse as Uncovering

But atonement/covering is not the whole plan. Yes, the people need to be protected from death by holiness. But protection alone—even forgiveness alone—is not the ultimate goal of God’s redemptive plan. You cannot marry someone if the veil is never lifted. The point of the veils of the tabernacle is not only to guard the way to the Holy of Holies, but also to mark the way in. The point of a veil, as strange as it may sound, is that the veil would be removed at the proper time. Think also of the symbolism of the cherubim, who not only guard the way back into Eden but also mark it out. Likewise, the flaming sword is not merely an obstacle but also, ironically, a light in the darkness.

As I have already hinted, this theme of uncovering (which is the literal Greek translation of the word apocalypse) occurs throughout the Old Testament, not just in later apocalyptic texts. The movements of atonement (covering) and apocalypse (uncovering) become a kind of X-shaped path to redemption, where covering/atonement starts on the top-left and, in a sense, decreases over time and uncovering/apocalypse starts on the bottom-left and increases over time. (Btw, Christ’s earthly ministry in the Gospel accounts may be seen as both the center of this X and as manifesting its own X-shaped pattern, a microcosm of the whole story of Scripture. But more on this in our next post.)

In the earliest chapters of the Bible, God begins to build in incremental hints and experiences of the coming unveiling. Circumcision is a central first step in this process, as it represents a removal of the garments of skin. This removal, as Paul later makes clear, is only external, so it is not the true unveiling. Rather, it is a sign of what is to come: the unveiling/circumcision of the heart for God. For further evidence of this gradual apocalypse, the Lord “appears” to Abraham more than once. Jacob, too, has a vision of angels ascending and descending a ladder to heaven; then he wrestles with God. Moses’s experience on Sinai, the giving of the law, etc, is perhaps the most dramatic version of this. Moses descends the mountain with a shining-but-veiled face, giving the Law to the people, which itself veils but also becomes a light unto their path. These are mini-apocalypses, which build toward an unveiling that cannot yet be, “lest you die.” Nevertheless, the unveiling shall come—and does come—in Christ.

Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold. We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to prevent the Israelites from seeing the end of what was passing away. But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:12-18)

This is why Paul, in the New Testament, warns Christians not to stake too much on Torah (the law). The law, Paul argues, is not an end in itself, but a means to the unveiling of Christ in the proper time. The law cannot save. Rather, it is a garment of skin, like the one given to Adam and Eve in the garden, given because of trespasses “until the time” of unveiling. Here’s how St. Paul puts it:

What I am saying is that as long as an heir is underage, he is no different from a slave, although he owns the whole estate. The heir is subject to guardians and trustees until the time set by his father. So also, when we were underage, we were in slavery under the elemental principles of the world. But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. (Galatians 4:1-5)

The mini-atonements of the Old Testament (fig leaves, animal skins, cherubim, law, priests, tabernacle, temple, veils and blood) serve as temporary guardians and tutors preparing the way for a final covering/atonement and a final uncovering/apocalypse. “Destroy this temple,” Jesus says, “and in three days I will raise it up,” (John 2:19). Jesus curses the fig tree and rebukes Peter’s sword on his way to the cross, where his blood would cover over all, our final, perfect atonement. So too, his resurrection serves as the first-fruits of the final apocalypse, the center of the X.

The rest of the New Testament, then, can be seen, in part, as a working out of how these two streams—atonement and apocalypse—ultimately flow together (and are fulfilled) in Christ. Paul’s letters are particularly interested in this problem.

For Moses, the cleft of the rock served as a veil which allowed him to see in part. Likewise, the veil over Moses’s face allowed the Israelites to see him in part. The very thing which allowed us to see in part is now obstructing us from seeing more. The law of Moses pointed to Christ. But now that Christ has appeared, our attachment to the law is making us unable to see him. The Pharisees in Jesus’s moment and the Judaizers in Paul’s failed to see the true, non-ultimate purpose of the law, that is, a covering that leads to uncovering. They wanted a version of atonement without apocalypse, the covering of the law without the proper uncovering which leads to true union. Likewise, it could be argued that many Christians today are ironically tempted toward a similar attachment to Christ as atonement without Christ as apocalypse. We want to be covered by him, but not uncovered with him.

Jesus, the Veiled Unveiling

Once we have seen this pattern is Scripture, we can begin to see how Christ’s own life and ministry becomes a microcosm of this veiling/unveiling movement. The story of the Gospels begins with a series of revelations of Christ (who is the apocalypse), yet each unveiling is nevertheless dramatically veiled. The Christ, we learn, is to be hidden in the womb of a humble virgin from Nazareth. Angels appear to foretell the news, but only in unexpected places to unexpected recipients, who must “store it up” in their hearts. On the night of his birth, the great glad tidings come not to prophets, priests, or kings, but to shepherds tending their flocks by night. John the Baptist prepares the way for the Messiah, quite obscurely, in the wilderness. Veils upon veils.

When Jesus’s adult ministry begins, one would think the veil would be finally lifted. But strangely, the veils continue, perhaps to an even greater degree. Those who come to the Gospels expecting a great and sudden unveiling of the Messiah, especially in the mouth and ministry of the man himself, are confused and disappointed at first. Why does he not simply reveal his true identity? Why conceal himself?

I have gone too long, so I will save my answer for my next post, “Why Jesus Hides.” Tune into that one for a deeper look into how Jesus’s earthly ministry becomes a microcosm of the X-shaped story of Scripture: of veils and unveiling. But here’s a hint: Though Christ is the apocalypse, he is careful not to let the unveiling of himself happen all at once. “Do not awaken love before its time.” Both the Father and the Son prefer the incremental way in order slowly to till the hearts of those whose soil cannot yet receive the seed. The seed of the word is simple and plenteous. It’s the soil that’s complex and problematic. This is, in part, why apocalyptic and proto-apocalyptic texts tend to be so intense and scary. The people are not ready for the unveiling, but it is coming nonetheless.

We get a glimpse of this in C. S. Lewis’s brilliant novel about heaven and hell, The Great Divorce. In the penultimate scene, the main character (Lewis) has spent the better part of the story as a ghost in the “Solid Country” between heaven and hell, a land that seems paused in a kind of prolonged twilight, awaiting the glorious dawn which might arrive at any moment. He imagines what it would be like to behold such a beautiful country in the light of day, but he also knows that, as a mere ghost, the light itself would be the end of him. His arduous journey toward the mountains has made him slightly stronger and more solid, yet still he has a ways to go. But just then…

Once more the quiet woods in the cool light before sunrise were about us. Then, still looking at [my guide’s] face, I saw there something that sent a quiver through my whole body. I stood at that moment with my back to the East and the mountains, and he, facing me, looked towards them. His face flushed with a new light. A fern, thirty yards behind him, turned golden. The eastern side of every tree-trunk grew bright. Shadows deepened. All the time there had been bird noises, trillings, chatterings, and the like; but now suddenly the full chorus was poured from every branch; cocks were crowing, there was music of hounds, and horns; above all this ten thousand tongues of men and woodland angels and the wood itself sang. "It comes! It comes!" they sang. "Sleepers awake! It comes, it comes, it comes." One dreadful glance over my shoulder I essayed—not long enough to see (or did I see?)—the rim of the sunrise that shoots Time dead with golden arrows and puts to flight all phantasmal shapes. Screaming, I buried my face in the folds of my Teacher's robe. "The morning! The morning!" I cried, "I am caught by the morning and I am a ghost." But it was too late.

So it is in the prophets: Christ the Sun, is coming, and all the atonements and coverings of the old covenant (and of the people’s own making) will not suffice to protect them from the morning. But, as the prophets say, if they trust and obey, they will receive the ultimate atonement and apocalypse, which is the Son himself, and will enter the wedding feast of the Lamb. Otherwise, they will not recognize him, refuse him, and be left outside in the cold.

And so it is with us. Christ has come. But Christ is also coming. Will we be ready to welcome him or will we be caught unprepared? Thankfully, our Lord is not only the coming One, but the One who makes us ready for his coming. He tills the soil of our hearts through the Spirit, just as he did for the earliest disciples, so that the seed can take root and bear fruit in its proper time. As with the disciples, this is not merely a one-time event, but a process that requires abiding over time.

Holy Saturday is a good time to remember: he hides in order to be seen.

1. Some scholars call these proto-apocalyptic texts. Except for Job. That’s just my own hot take.

2. Some argue that kaphar also means “to wipe,” not merely “to cover,” which makes more sense of its common use with regard to sin and salvation. I think both can be taken together. If you picture the physical process of wiping, to wipe something means to cover the unclean thing momentarily and then to remove the covering as the thing being wiped is made clean. In this sense, the story of the Bible can be seen as a slow-motion wiping from atonement to apocalypse.