First-century Judaism had a thorough-going hierarchy of spirits, angels, and demons. Some Jews would wear amulets around their necks in order to invoke the protection of angels from evil spirits. One amulet for example was published as saying: “Michael, Gabriel, Ouriel, Raphael, protect the one who wears this... Flee, O hated one, Solomon pursues you.”
Even the Qumran community, which was outside mainstream Judaism at the time, also had quite a vast understanding of the rank and function of angelic hosts. In a text called the War Scroll, the “sons of light” fight valiantly at the end of the age against the “sons of darkness” with angelic forces leading both armies. Another text called 11QMelchizedek interprets the Melchizedek figure in the book of Genesis as an angel. They weave him into an intricate eschatological plot where this angel comes to have certain functions that would later be interpreted as distinctly messianic. He is to return at the end of the age to bring liberty to the captives and to defeat, once and for all, the forces of darkness. He is the “Prince of light” and they often seem to equate him with Michael the Archangel.
For a Jewish context that had a very high regard for angels, this is fascinating background for the opening chapters of the book of Hebrews. The author of Hebrews wants his Jewish readers to know who they are leaving behind if they trade Jesus for Judaism. And he starts by arguing Jesus is greater than “angels.” And since angels meant something more to Jews in this period than the harp-playing, cloud-hopping, halo-donning anecdotes we see today, than this argument has an edge we are prone to miss. It is about rulership. The delegated authority of God is not given to an angel. It is given to “a son” (1:5). Slap one. The one sitting at the authoritative right hand of God is not an angel; it is the living messiah (1:13). Back slap again. The one who will fight God's enemies (the forces of darkness), the one who will rule God's kingdom with a scepter is not an angel; it is the living Jesus (1:8,13). Double slap!
Although there are aspects to Jesus' superiority in Hebrews 1 that go all the way back to Jesus' fundamentally superior nature and being (1:2-3, 1:8,10), the primary argument is that Jesus has become superior to angels because the name that he has inherited is superior to them (1:4). Jesus has inherited a rulership over something that angels are merely servants within. He is forcing his readers to understand that leaving Jesus means you are leaving the commander of God's new kingdom –the very kingdom which is at the center of their enduring hope. If you long for God's ultimate victory over evil, you probably shouldn't leave the one who holds God's scepter.
For a Jewish context that had a very high regard for angels, this is fascinating background for the opening chapters of the book of Hebrews. The author of Hebrews wants his Jewish readers to know who they are leaving behind if they trade Jesus for Judaism. And he starts by arguing Jesus is greater than “angels.” And since angels meant something more to Jews in this period than the harp-playing, cloud-hopping, halo-donning anecdotes we see today, than this argument has an edge we are prone to miss. It is about rulership. The delegated authority of God is not given to an angel. It is given to “a son” (1:5). Slap one. The one sitting at the authoritative right hand of God is not an angel; it is the living messiah (1:13). Back slap again. The one who will fight God's enemies (the forces of darkness), the one who will rule God's kingdom with a scepter is not an angel; it is the living Jesus (1:8,13). Double slap!
Although there are aspects to Jesus' superiority in Hebrews 1 that go all the way back to Jesus' fundamentally superior nature and being (1:2-3, 1:8,10), the primary argument is that Jesus has become superior to angels because the name that he has inherited is superior to them (1:4). Jesus has inherited a rulership over something that angels are merely servants within. He is forcing his readers to understand that leaving Jesus means you are leaving the commander of God's new kingdom –the very kingdom which is at the center of their enduring hope. If you long for God's ultimate victory over evil, you probably shouldn't leave the one who holds God's scepter.
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