THE OLD AND THE NEW LEAVEN
© Hubert Krause  March 28, 2000
The Church of God in Williamstown
WEB SITE: http://www.alphalink.com.au/~sanhub/index.htm

INTRODUCTION
This holy day season has much to do with leaving things behind and moving forward, with putting off and putting on, with renewal, with rededication—with "old" and "new", which is the theme I would like to explore today, centering around the symbolism of the leaven which has given its name to this festival.

We have spent the last seven days of this Feast of Unleavened Bread in homes devoid of physical leaven while at the same time consuming bread which has not been leavened. What has this ritual meant to each of us spiritually? How do we understand the meaning and symbolism behind the putting out of old leaven and the putting in, the eating, the ingesting, of what is unleavened? And what will be different for us once this evening marks the end of this Unleavened Bread period?

THE GOOD BATCH
Let us begin by reconsidering some of the biblical teaching about the meaning inherent in the symbolism of leaven:

Some, assuming that leaven is always a symbol for evil in the Bible, argue that what is here being taught by Christ is that the Kingdom to come will contain hidden evil which multiplies—yet which presumably is still overcome! How does this notion of a little evil—of a little leaven—being allowed to enter God's Kingdom sit in our minds?

This parable, however, is reinforced, and thus explained, by the preceding parallel one of the mustard seed (vs 31-32), in which a very small seed grows into such a tall plant. So the parable of the leaven hidden in the meal is in fact teaching us that the power of the Spirit and the forces of the Gospel of the Kingdom are pervasive and dynamic, like leaven or yeast which, when kneaded into the dough, expands by itself. It is an internal dynamism, working slowly, non-dramatically at first, but gradually and constantly. Ultimately it will engulf the entire earth.

The yeast was generally a small piece of dough—small enough to be "hidden"—from a previous batch of baking, which had been allowed to ferment for several days—like sourdough. It was added to the flat bread—usually kneaded into the middle of the dough (picture the Spirit in the very mind or heart of those begotten by God) so as to make it lighter and more flavorful. Just as the leaven changed, or assimilated to its own nature, the meal or dough with which it was mixed, so too is it the purpose and operation of the Holy Spirit of God to transform the recipient of His Spirit into the image of our heavenly Father—a total transformation, a complete leavening. This then is a leavening process which is approved of by God, is it not? This is the leaven of righteousness. It should be contagious for good. So the symbolism of leaven in the Scriptures is not always the symbolism of evil, is it?

Both these parables, of the mustard seed and the leaven, are prophetic, intended to show, principally, how, from very small beginnings, the Gospel of Christ will pervade the entire world with the fruits of righteousness and true holiness. The reference to leaven "hidden" in the meal has nothing to do with hidden evil, or sin, but rather with the "hidden" workings of the Spirit of God:

As the wind seemingly blows where it wills, and we see only the effects it produces, so the Holy Spirit works according to the will of God. Yet the results of the invisible wind can be discerned, as will be, in time, the full workings of the Spirit of God in His saints. The righteousness which is of the Kingdom is also to be pervasive, although at present, like the leaven as it works its way through the lump of dough, its workings are hidden and silent. Yet its results will ultimately be very visible.

The resultant batch of dough depicted in this parable will be holy to God (cf. Ro 11:16), for the leavening that takes place to produce it is good, positive, beneficial—it is the new leaven of righteousness.

THE BAD BATCH
Yet it is not always so in the symbolism of the leavening process, for the leaven can also be evil, corruptive, as indicated by Christ's response to the Pharisees and Sadducees who, in order to test Him, requested a sign from Him (Mt 16:1-4):

That Christ was not speaking about physical leaven was not immediately understood by the disciples (v. 11), for we are informed that the term leaven was very rarely used among the Jews to signify doctrine. So Christ had to explain the symbolism: So leaven has also to do with teaching (a meaning which of course we can also inject into the previous parable about the leaven), with what is taught and learnt; in this instance, it is false teaching, teaching which corrupts instead of producing righteousness. Yet this leaven, too, was—and is—invisible and pervasive, sin hidden away deep in the heart, aptly portraying the subtle and corrupting influence these leaders had on society. Again, like the action of physical leaven in flour, evil teaching and false doctrine assimilate the spirits of those contaminated by them to their own nature. And like leaven that works its way into fresh dough, spreading out through it until its effects are evident in the entire batch, so false ideas and notions, doctrinally unsound teachings, allowed to infiltrate our minds will, if unchecked, gradually penetrate and permeate every part of our thinking. After all, it is what we believe, how we think—our creed, if you like—that influences how we act. Or do we perhaps believe that our minds can accept unsound teaching and not be affected by it?
At any rate, the legalism, pride, political opportunism, spiritual hardness of heart and worldliness which constituted the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees is to be avoided by those who follow the Son of God.
Christ expanded upon this in the account in Mark's Gospel: This is again the "old" leaven that corrupts, that contaminates, thinking that should be kept pure.
Luke then further categorises this : Hypocrisy, although it wasn't the only attribute of this leaven of erroneous teaching, characterised the lives, actions and philosophy of these leaders of the Jews.

OLD AND NEW
The symbolism of leaven as false or incorrect teaching is carried through also into Christ's parables of the old and the new wine and the old cloth and the new patch. But before we consider these, and against this background of old things that are to be removed and to become new, the key theme of these Days of Unleavened Bread, let us note these words of the Son of God to do with things old and new. For there is a "new" that is not really new and an "old" that is quite commendable:

A disciple of the Kingdom of God, such as are all of us, continues to discover, as it were, a wealth of treasures "old" as well as "new" as he or she learns, all of which Christ would have us incorporate into our thinking so as to able to use them to teach others also; this appears to be the intent of this parable. Col 2:3 tells us that "all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" are "hidden" in Jesus Christ.
The most obvious conclusion is to label the "old" as the sacred writings of the Old Testament, and the "new" those of the New Testament in the age of the Church, and Ro 7:6 does indeed contrast "the newness of the Spirit" with "the oldness of the letter". Yet what is really "new" about the Plan of God whose works, as Heb 4:3 informs us, "were finished from the foundation of the world"?

Notice how Christ's use of parables fulfilled prophecy:

What has been hidden is revealed to those who are seekers of God. Like the Renaissance of the Middle Ages, where knowledge lost was rediscovered, so the eternal truths of God are re-learnt by His followers. They are "new" only in the sense that, like the "new commandment" given by Christ to His disciples (Jn 13:34) and re-iterated by the apostle John (1Jn 2:7-8; 2Jn 1:5), they are now understood by and lived through the Holy Spirit in us.

However, to return to our theme, there is an "old" that does need to be renewed:

New wine as it fermented would expand, stretch and crack the dried-up old wineskins brittle with age and unable to expand any further. This fermentation process can be quite violent!
Notice also: An old garment, patched up with a piece of new, stronger cloth, would, as it shrank, instead of closing up the rent, pull away the adjacent threads from the old garment. The initial tear in the old piece of clothing would be made worse—the whole breadth of the cloth over which it was laid would now be torn away with it. In Matthew (Mt 9:16) and Mark's account, the damage is only to the old garment, whose rent is enlarged. In Luke's account the damage is twofold; firstly, in injuring, perhaps even rendering useless, the new garment by cutting out a piece from it; and secondly, in making the old garment appear patched: So the new as well as the old garment end up being damaged, which agrees with Mark's rendering of the parable of the new wine into old wineskins, where the new wine is lost: The emphasis of these two parables is upon the quality of that which is new: it is good. We can't patch up the old clothes with brand-new material. They'll look patched and in time the tear initially patched up will be even greater. And, as the parable of the new wine and old wineskins illustrates, ultimately the old wineskins we foolishly filled up with new wine will be completely wrecked and all the new wine lost, just as a new garment would be ruined if one were foolish enough to cut out a patch from it. Yet instead of abandoning the old in favour of the new, we often do a lot of patching, don't we? The garments of righteousness, however, are not patched with spots, blemishes and wrinkles from the old, but instead are radiant and unblemished!

And it can be an even worse situation. Notice what Luke alone adds to this parable:

Jesus is pointing out that someone who likes old wine will not readily try the new, since such a person is used to, satisfied with, the old. It's hard to change the tastebuds. There's such a reluctance to abandon the old that the new wine being offered to you is very often refused.

The words of Jesus Christ in these two parables, while here directly applicable to a contemporary Judaism unwilling to relinquish old ideas, customs and traditions at odds with the "new" teachings of the Son of God, are also valid for Christians today. Let's consider this principle of the old and the new in the context of our past and present experiences.

It can be hard to abandon the old ways have been so used to—the old teachings, past ideas that seemed to slot so well into the scheme of things, notions and concepts which once sat so comfortably in our minds. Our Church of God legacy delivered to us a neat little package of doctrine, of philosophy, even of history, bundled together by man-made notions embracing prophetic speculation, distortions of the Scriptures and misinterpretations of history, most—if not all—of which had been either begged, borrowed or stolen from other sources. Nevertheless, like the pieces of a completed jigsaw puzzle, everything was made to fit together very well for us, and every piece had its correct place in the scheme of things. Yet as the new wine of the Word and the Truth of God pushes its way into a mind still cluttered with these relics from the past, what needs to happen to all the other remaining inter-linked jigsaw pieces as more and more of the major pieces are found to be faulty and are indeed cast aside? Do we still try to patch them up to make them co-exist with the new truths we are learning or do we see the necessity of abandoning all that is tested—honestly, on the basis of the Word of God—and found wanting?

To what do we default when put on the spot? The old leaven of false notions and ideas, the product of the thinking of this world, aspects of the maddening wine of Babylon (Jer 51:7; Rev 14:8; 17:2) that intoxicates the whole earth, just as it has poisoned the religious culture from whence we came? Or the new, clean leaven of truth, hopefully coming to reside more and more in the recesses of our thinking? And do we in fact know, can we differentiate between what is old and what is new? Let's notice the reaction of the Jews to the words of Christ rebuking them for the bondage they were unwilling to recognise and deal with:

Now even considering the heat of the exchange here taking place, this was an incredible claim to make, given that they were there and then under the Roman yoke—despite the measure of religious freedom granted them—just as they had been under that of Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Alexander the Great and his successor kingdoms—again, any freedom of worship allowed them notwithstanding. Perhaps they reasoned that since they had never willingly submitted to any of this past legacy of bondage, it was not bondage in any real sense. They could not see, or were unwilling to see, their own bondage. Can we discern areas in our lives, in our thinking, where this leaven of error is still present? The hidden leaven of deceit, in this case self-deception, can also cause us to be blinded to and unaware of these old, false ways of thinking that may yet be cleaving to our minds and enslaving us.
Do the words of John the Baptist, in rebuke to these same Jewish leaders, have some import for us today? It can be easy, if we're not careful, like the Jews of Christ's day who referred and defaulted back to a religious legacy which they had corrupted and which they corruptly understood, for us to default to the old, even when we realise that it is flawed. Perhaps we feel some loyalty to man-made traditions which featured in our past, or to aspects of a dubious religious heritage. We can delude ourselves with false reasoning such as "Well, it made sense." And sometimes this "old" pre-dates even our Church of God experience: it was mentioned to me on Passover evening how notions of a death-bed repentance, a product of earlier religious background, now and then intrude themselves into the thinking of one person, although of course he clearly understands their invalidity. This is the point: the old can still be pleasant, feel sufficient, quite suitable for us. So why should we change? Yet, once again, for entrance into the banquet of God we all need new clothes of righteousness, unpatched, and unblemished.

This leaven of false teaching can be very enticing, yet ultimately destructive! The apostle Peter describes false teachers (2Pe 2:1-2) whose erroneous, corrupt notions ended up pervading their character to such a degree that they become reprobate (v. 3):

Too many patches cut out from a new garment and sewn onto an old piece of clothing which should long ago have been thrown out? Perhaps.
It is vital that the old leaven be removed. What "old" ideas and notions about God and His Plan, about His Word, do we yet cling to? Or what have we borrowed from the world that is extraneous to the truth of God, that clashes with "the simplicity that is in Christ" (2Co 11:3)? Are our ideas pure and unleavened, correctly based on Scripture, or are some our concepts of God and of His truth still leavened and thus in need of further deleavening? It is only by setting aside all preconceptions, false traditions inherited from the past and our own self-will that can we see properly and thus begin to fully understand the whole truth, especially about ourselves. This is the truth that sets us free from the bondage of sin, as Christ pointed out.

While Christ's words related directly to teachings old and new, correct and incorrect, to knowledge and ideas valid or invalid, to truth and error, they are of course also applicable more directly to the godly character-building process which is to take place in the life of every son and daughter of God. New wine needs to be stored in new wineskins, which can expand with the wine as it ferments and which, unlike the old wineskins, will not crack or tear (cf. Job 32:19). The new man—the new creation—which Christians are to become cannot be superimposed upon the existing old man—onto character that is still flawed as much by ideas and thinking that are in error scripturally as by actions and behaviour that still fall short of godliness. To build upon such a foundation is unsustainable: the new wine will eventually be completely spilt and wasted—the new creation will be malformed or even aborted—and the original tear in the old garment—the corrupted old man—will only widen to allow in even more of the old leaven. Yet how often do we still attempt to mend the worn-out and cracked old wineskins (Jos 9:4) or try to patch up the old garments! If we really want to continue to enjoy the old wine, there's going to have to be a lot of mending, of patching up!

So upon what sort of a foundation are we building: an old, corroded and flawed one or a new, sound, tried-and-tested one?

What will be revealed about the nature of our works? Will they be found to have more in common with the old leaven—the "aimless conduct received by tradition from your fathers [or father!]" (1Pe 1:18), which should have been left behind—or will they indeed consist solely of the new leaven of righteousness?

BAD FRUITS OF THE OLD LEAVEN
Let us note the example of the Church in Corinth as yet another warning against the polluting influence of the old leaven on the mind, while at the same time considering the antidote offered by the apostle Paul for this:

Paul then iterates the principle symbolised by the leaven: Our ideas, the pictures in our minds, will determine our actions. Paul goes on the remind the Corinthians of the correct action, action based on godly thinking, they ought to have taken: These Corinthians were unleavened physically, but not in practice. Their thinking was unclean, spiritually leavened, and it produced ungodly actions. Excusing or overlooking evil in another produces the future likelihood that we will tolerate similar evil in ourselves—this is why God tells us to expose (Eph 5:11) and rebuke (Lev 19:17; Lk 17:3) evil in our midst. This corrupting leaven must be identified, promptly purged and then avoided if Christians are to maintain this unleavened state. Sin, like cancer, demands drastic surgery. Unfortunately, this is where we all fall short. So one of the lessons here for us is the need to keep the leaven out of our lives, not just physically—and of course spiritually—during this Unleavened Bread period, but spiritually on an ongoing basis. Any old leaven, leaven that has become rotten and is putrefying must be purged, for unless it is removed, its influence will, in time, spread, to pervade the whole batch of dough, this time for evil.

Paul restates the principle in his epistle to the Galatians:

While here the reference appears to be to Judaic legalism introduced into the congregation—an attempt to do some patching up—the principle is yet true: a little portion of this type of leaven, when mixed into the batch, soon leavens the whole lump. A small amount of old, rotting leaven, of error, of evil, even though present in a larger amount of good, can, if it is not dealt with, still alter the nature of the whole into which it is injected. What may be seen as relatively harmless may end up unbalancing the total individual. Here the false doctrines and influences of these outsiders was destabilizing the Church. Let us all take the warning to heart.

THE OLD AND THE NEW MAN
As we pursue this theme of renewal, the issue for consideration is, of course, what is the nature of the process whereby the "old" becomes "new"?

However, we know that for us the reality is that this process does not occur instantly; rather, it is a long, painful, step-by-step struggle. Before the unleavened state is attained, the old leaven in the heart, the mind, must be sought, found and disposed of—put out/off—so we are told, in the same way the physical leaven is first removed from our homes—as far away as possible—before we even begin to eat unleavened bread in a manner spiritually profitable for us. Or, once again, let us ask ourselves: do we perhaps still imagine that we can somehow superimpose the new unleavened state we are called upon to develop over an 'old man', still leavened? If this is indeed the case, we have been eating unleavened bread in vain over the past week!

The Scriptures reveal to us that putting off the old man is—or at least, should be—synonymous with the putting on the new man; in this sense, eating the unleavened bread as we have been does symbolise both the putting out of the old and the putting on of the new.

The old cannot be reformed, like the patching up of old, torn wineskins or tattered clothes, with just a few elements of the new; it must be a total renewal, a regeneration, after the image of God: So this is not going to happen automatically: the dirty clothes of the sinful man must first be put off—sometimes peeled off slowly, layer by layer, bit by bit, from the body if they are clinging too tightly to it—and then replaced with the pure, clean, white robes of the righteousness of God. The apostle Paul, in reference to himself, tells us in 2Co 4:16 that "the inward man is being renewed day by day" Can we say this of ourselves? How exactly does this renewal take place?

So let us then consider this process of spiritual purging, this putting off the old, and putting on the new, a little more.

SPIRITUAL PURGING: PUTTING OFF THE OLD
There are spiritual encumbrances that slow down our Christian growth which must be removed, put out, put off, just as the seemingly ever-present leaven is put out during the Passover season:

This call to clean out, to put off, the old is part of the purging process that produces the holiness desired by God. Let us note some specifics that need to be "put off", "put away", "put aside"—discarded—as manifestations of the old self, of the old leaven: But is it just a case of putting things away? It is not merely a matter of evil conduct or sinful habits of body and mind being put off; it goes deeper, to the very self, the old self that still clings to us all. We must deal with causes, not symptoms. Yet it is not something that can be done in a vacuum, or our eating of unleavened bread over the past seven days has been only an empty ritual. Overcome evil with good, we are all instructed (Ro 12:21). If follows then that the evil is purged and eradicated by the good, which then takes up residence in the chambers of the mind once occupied by the evil, for these chambers cannot not simply stay vacant after having been swept out. This is why there must therefore be a commensurate action—there is something we need to "put on" to replace what we have "put off". Let us note a few more examples to illustrate this: Again, some specifics, this time of what we must "put on": spiritual fruits that flow out as manifestations of the "new man" as it is being created: And all this is very much a renewal, a transformation, old becoming new: Once again, this purification of our hearts is not something we can accomplish of and by ourselves: Nothing is ever done in a vacuum!

CRUCIFIED TO THE WORLD
However, as Christians, we have a dual obligation when it comes to dealing with sin. The ancient Israelites, on that very first Passover, departed from Egypt—fled from sin, from any possible contamination—so rapidly that they took with them bread that was unleavened; there was no time to wait for leavened bread to rise. Similarly, we are told in 2Pe 1:4 that we are to "'escape' the corruption that is in the world through lust". This is parabolic also of this second part of our obligation. The command to purge the old leaven, to remove the existing pollutions of the world still resident within us, is only one part of our responsibility. It is futile to put leaven out and then allow other leaven in to again or to further pollute us. So there is also the need to keep oneself unpolluted—deleavened:

Let us consider James' sober warning to us in this regard: How does the world still govern us? You know, it has many manifestations, including past false religious experiences. Do we continue to have a love affair of sorts with the world, with its notions, its ideas, teachings, practices? Or, on the other hand, are we crucified (the instrument of the putting to death of the old man previously alluded to) to the world, as the apostle Paul was, through the purging of the leaven of sin and the maintaining of the unleavened state? What does it mean to be so crucified? If the body is crucified, it is dead to the influence of the old leaven of sin, is it not?

Eph 6:11-1 admonishes us to ensure that we have an additional outfit in our wardrobe to put on in order to be able to withstand the assaults of the Devil and to keep ourselves unpolluted from the world: the whole armor of God. Our belts are tightened with sincerity, the heart is guarded by righteousness to keep out the leaven of the world, the Gospel of peace constitutes our sandals; along with the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Word of God, our offensive weapon, these can help to ensure that the old self is not readily revived.

Let us then consider the true unleavened Bread of Life, the only means by which this transition from the old leaven to the new can be successfully accomplished.

SPIRITUAL MANNA—THE TRUE UNLEAVENED BREAD OF LIFE
The physical manna provided for ancient Israel was a type of the Word of God:

The physical manna, as well as the water and the rock, were symbols also of the spiritual—of Christ, the true manna, the Rock, and the Provider of the water of life (Neh 9:20). It was also a type of Jesus Christ, the true Bread of Life as well as the Water of Life (Jn 4:14): The manna of Moses was not the 'real bread', the true spiritual sustenance, which gives life to us today, as it will eventually to the world: Notice how this new life through Jesus Christ comes about: Reflecting upon the death of Christ, symbolised in the bread and the wine, the latter particularly picturing our sharing in His sufferings, should lead us to mortify—crucify—our own members, after the perfect example of the Son of God. What are we primarily still feeding on? Does our sustenance still include the old worldly leaven, or is it the true spiritually-unleavened bread alone? Jesus Christ is the ultimate new creation after which we are to be patterned. When we eat the unleavened bread we picture sin being eliminated from our lives to make the new unleavened man. The Bread of Life will purge out the old leaven still left and replace it with His pure, unleavened Life in us. So what yet clings to us that is inconsistent with the life and Name of Jesus Christ? Christ is the true manna of which those who eat shall never die (John 6:31-43, 48-51); hidden, in that He is withdrawn from sight, and the Christian's life is hidden with Him in God (Col 3:3). We eat of this hidden manna [Ps 119:11: Your word I have hidden in my heart, that I might not sin against You!] as we live through Him in us. CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST: THE LIFE OF CHRIST IN US
So, finally, how can we be truly unleavened—spiritually, as we have been physically? Let us take the imagery of being crucified to the world a step further in conjunction with Christ as the true, unleavened bread. Paul goes on to explain that this "newness of life" is the life of Christ—the true unleavened Bread of Life—in us: The Christian's identification with and response to the sufferings and the crucifixion of Christ is to crucify—to deny—the flesh: In the final analysis, Jesus Christ, the life of Jesus Christ, is that "new" which we should be putting on, through which the "old" remains crucified: It is Christ, as the apostle Paul said (Col 1:29), who works mightily in us, ensuring the success of this transformation of old into new.

CONCLUSION
You know, in ancient Israel leaven—along with honey—was forbidden in any sacrifices fully burnt upon the altar of God in complete dedication to Him (Ex 23:18; Lev 2:11), its fermentation presumably suggestive of the corrupt and the putrid, of defilement. This symbolised the old leaven, unacceptable to God in the lives of those who would be totally dedicated to Him.

The true leaven, the penetrating, contagious, life-giving leaven of righteousness, the leaven of life, the leaven of the Word of God, "kneaded" into the hearts and spirits of His people, must also continue to leaven the whole lump, producing that universal holiness without which none can see the Lord (Heb 12:4). It is to dwell within and amongst spiritually-unleavened Christians. Is it present in and amongst us?

The ultimate renewal, the full deleavening, the incorruptible, totally-unleavened state is something we all can look forward to:

This is the culmination and consummation of our struggle for renewal. Let this vision motivate and inspire us to continue—onward past these Days of Unleavened Bread—to "'keep on keeping' the Feast'" in the "unleavened [state] of sincerity and truth".

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