The Reformed Olive Press

  Resurrection, Embodiment, and Exaltation: Rethinking the Post-Easter Jesus The problem with saying Jesus’ resurrection is automatically different from Lazarus’ is that the Gospels themselves don’t actually make that distinction. They simply depict Jesus coming out of the tomb, walking, eating, and being touched—essentially presenting him as a dead person restored to life. There’s nothing explicit in those narratives that says his body is glorified, immortal, or the “firstfruits” of a new kind of existence at that point. Those theological categories appear more clearly in Paul’s later letters, not in the Gospel scenes themselves. Likewise, we’re never told that Lazarus died again. Many assume he returned to ordinary mortal life, but that assumption is not stated in the text. It’s an inference brought in from outside the story. Without importing later theology, the Gospel accounts of Jesus and Lazarus share striking similarities: both are raised, both interact physically with other...

The Festina Leste: Christianity’s Original Symbol? When we think of early Christian symbols, the fish (Ichthys), the cross, and the anchor often come to mind. Yet, some historians and enthusiasts of Christian symbology argue that an older, often overlooked emblem—the Festina Leste—may have been the original symbol of Christianity, carrying layers of spiritual and cultural significance lost to time. What is the Festina Leste? The term Festina Leste roughly translates to “hasten to the East.” In early Christian thought, the East was not just a geographical direction but a symbol of divine origin and eternal life. Worshippers faced east during prayer, anticipating Christ’s return from the rising sun—an image drawn from prophetic and apocalyptic literature in the Hebrew Scriptures. The Festina Leste itself often appeared as a motif combining an arrow or line pointing eastward with circular or spiral elements, representing eternity, divine movement, and the soul’s ascent toward God. Its sim...

H eresy and Orthodoxy: Treason in Belief, Then and Now In legal systems today, there’s a clear rule: you cannot be prosecuted for an act that wasn’t a crime when it was committed. This principle—known as the ban on ex post facto laws—ensures fairness in law. But history shows that in the realm of religion, this principle rarely applied. Heresy, in particular, functioned as a kind of spiritual “treason,” with the state and church defining the rules as they went along. Treason of Belief In the medieval and early modern world, declaring yourself a heretic was more than a theological disagreement. It was treated as political betrayal, a direct threat to the stability of kingdoms and empires. Monarchs and councils codified orthodoxy, and deviation was punishable—often by death. But notice the irony: the definition of heresy was never fixed. Something that was orthodox one year could become heretical the next, depending on councils, kings, or popes. Belief itself was retroactively policed, o...

When the Cross Was Questioned: Early Christian Doubts About the Crucifixion It is easy, looking backward through the lens of later orthodoxy, to assume that the earliest Christians spoke with one voice about Jesus—his life, his death, and especially his crucifixion. The cross stands today as the central symbol of Christianity, so foundational that it can feel as though it must have always been universally agreed upon. But the historical record tells a more complicated story. In the first generations of the movement, there were Christians who did not deny Jesus outright—but who did question, reinterpret, or even reject the idea that he truly suffered and died on a Roman cross. One of the earliest and most influential currents behind this hesitation is what scholars later called Docetism. The name comes from a Greek word meaning “to seem” or “to appear,” and that captures the essence of the view: Jesus only seemed to be human. If his body was not fully real—if it was more like a divine a...

J esus’ Beloved Disciple: Beyond John A longstanding assumption in Christian tradition is that John the apostle is the “beloved disciple” mentioned in the Gospel of John. Yet the text itself never explicitly identifies him. This silence has prompted scholars and readers alike to reconsider whether the beloved disciple may have been someone else—perhaps a member of Jesus’ family or an inner-circle follower whose identity was intentionally left unnamed. This question becomes especially significant when examining the crucifixion account. In John 19:26–27, Jesus entrusts his mother to the beloved disciple. Traditionally, this act is taken as evidence that the beloved disciple was John. However, this raises a perplexing issue: Jesus had brothers and sisters (Mark 6:3). Why, then, would he place his mother in the care of someone outside his immediate family? One plausible explanation is that his brothers were not present or were occupied with other responsibilities. In that moment, the belov...

  Misconceptions on the Narrow and Broad Gate The saying about the narrow gate and the broad gate (Matthew 7:13–14) is usually read as a simple moral division: one path leads to life, the other to destruction. But when you set it alongside Greco-Roman moral philosophy, Jewish wisdom traditions, and early Christian interpretation, it begins to look less like a statement about geography or final destinations and more like a description of how a human life takes shape. In Greek conceptual terms, the image can be thought of as a contrast between a compressed way and a spacious way. The compressed way is a life under pressure—focused, disciplined, narrowed into clarity. The spacious way is a life that expands outward without constraint, multiplying possibilities but never forming into something unified. This kind of moral contrast is widespread in Greco-Roman literature. In the famous story of Heracles at the crossroads, preserved in the tradition of the sophist Prodicus, the young hero...

  Teraphim in the Hebrew Bible: From Household Objects to Condemned Idolatry The teraphim are among the most intriguing and understudied objects in the Hebrew Bible. Often translated as “household gods,” “idols,” or simply left untranslated as teraphim, these objects appear in narratives spanning domestic family life, tribal religion, royal households, and prophetic critique. Their function shifts across the biblical timeline—from ambiguous domestic ritual objects possibly tied to ancestry and inheritance, to explicitly condemned instruments of idolatry and divination. A close reading of every Old Testament reference shows a gradual theological and cultural transition rather than a single fixed meaning. Rachel and the Domestic Origins of Teraphim (Including Inheritance Symbolism) Genesis 31:19, 31:30–35 The first appearance of the teraphim occurs in the household of Laban: “Rachel stole her father’s household gods (teraphim).” — Genesis 31:19 When Laban confronts Jacob’s family, he...

  Early Israelite Religion: Structured Divinatory Systems and the Material Mediation of Divine Knowledge A close reading of the Hebrew Bible reveals that early Israelite religion preserved a wide range of divinatory systems—methods by which divine will, hidden knowledge, or correct decision-making was accessed through material objects, ritual procedures, altered states, and controlled chance mechanisms. Rather than functioning as a single unified system, these practices form a layered and diverse ecosystem that was gradually centralized and reinterpreted in later Israelite theology. Teraphim: Household Divination, Inheritance, and Domestic Ritual Knowledge The teraphim appear across multiple narratives as household objects tied to family authority, inheritance structures, and domestic forms of divinatory practice. In Genesis 31, Rachel steals her father Laban’s teraphim, indicating their significance within household identity and inheritance systems. Laban’s reaction suggests they ...