the Greatest

The Pharisees end up hearing that Jesus has, in fact, silenced the Sadducees with his teaching. In the gospel of Matthew, a teacher of the Law approaches Jesus to ask him about the greatest commandments. The way it reads in Matthew, it sounds as if the Pharisees are perplexed that Jesus was able to stump the Sadducees and wanted to do some follow-up. The question — “Which is the greatest commandment?” — is one that is very common in Jesus’s Jewish world. It is essentially asking the teacher what his interpretive lens is. What is his hermeneutical filter? How does he interpret the Scriptures?

“Great” commandments were really a statement about what the Jews called “weight.” Some laws carried more weight than others. If we can determine what the “weightiest” commandments are, it will help us know how to read our Text. For instance, Rahab has a dilemma when the men of Jericho come looking for the spies. In such an instance, she is going to break a law. She is either not going to protect the foreigner and allow them to be murdered, or she is going to lie. The question is one of weight. If she chooses correctly, she ends up fulfilling the law; if she chooses incorrectly, she abolishes it. Rahab chooses — intuitively, I might add (she is a pagan prostitute, after all) — that protecting the foreigner carries more weight than abstaining from lies. She decides correctly and ends up in the “Hall of Faith” (Hebrews 11).

In Jesus’s day, there were two dominant “yokes” or sets of interpretation that were held. They came from the schools of Shammai and Hillel. Shammai declared the two greatest commandments were “love God with all your heart and all your soul and all your might” and “obey the Sabbath.” This made Shammai’s yoke centered on obedience. Obedience is the weightiest call in each situation. But Hillel said it was “love God…” and “love your neighbor as yourself,” making the weightiest call the call to love.

Jesus agrees with Hillel.

In Matthew, this appears to answer the question and they move on. But in Luke, this question sees a little more treatment. I personally believe we are not dealing with parallel stories in this instance, but we are dealing with the same question. Again, this is one of the most common questions a rabbi would be asked in Jesus’s world, so we would expect multiple interactions. In Luke, the questioner asks Jesus about the greatest commandment and receives the same answer.

And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.”

But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Desiring to justify himself? What is that all about?

Jesus, like a brilliant rabbi, has just turned the entire situation back around onto the person asking the question. Since the man is a lawyer (a person who studies the Law), Jesus asks him what his yoke is. The man replies and Jesus agrees. The whole situation would be slightly humorous to those listening in on the conversation. So in order to justify himself, he asks about the neighbor.

And justify himself, he does. Because the debate surrounding “who is my neighbor” was a fierce one. He asks a doozy of a question.

But Jesus’s response is even better. I have had more than one teacher tell me that Jesus’s parable surrounding the Good Samaritan is one of the most brilliant parables told in Jewish history. So in order to understand Jesus’s teaching, we have to set the stage.

P’SHAT

Rabbis of the first century liked to tell parables with a common template. Doing so allowed them to keep some of the variables constant for the hearers and allow them to wrestle with the content of the parable with less confusion (or should we say, it allowed them to put the confusion where they wanted it to be). One of the most common templates we have in written record is the template of the Priest, the Levite, and the Pharisee. Whatever the content of the parable was, the characters were always the same, and each played the same role.

The priest would do it wrong. The Levite would also do it wrong. But the Pharisee would do it right.

In response to the neighbor question, Jesus begins a parable following this typical template. A man is beat up and needs help. The priest refuses and the Levite refuses. (It should be noted that they have good reasons to refuse: they are trying to be obedient to their role as priests who need to stay clean — but they are using the yoke.) At this point in the conversation, everybody knows who is coming next to save the day — the Pharisee.

But Jesus changes the story. “Along came a Samaritan…”

And you could have heard a pin drop.

What we also don’t understand is the background to the “who is my neighbor” debate.

“Shammai! Who is my neighbor?” 

He would have responded, “Your fellow Jew.”

“Do I have to love the Roman?”

“No, you do not; they are our enemy.”

“Hillel! Who is my neighbor?”

“Your fellow Jew.”

“Do I have to love the Roman?”

“Yes, they are your neighbor as well.”

“Do I have to love a Samaritan?”

“Of course not! Nobody should love a Samaritan!”

In Jesus’s story, he pushes the envelope far beyond what any listener would have been comfortable with. Jesus is clearly stating that even Hillel doesn’t go far enough with his love! Not only this, but the Samaritan isn’t even the one receiving the love — he’s the one being obedient! And all of this information, which has made this parable jump off of the page, is simply p’shat.

REMEZ

Did you know Jesus wasn’t even the one who came up with this story? It took place centuries before, and it’s in your Text: 2 Chronicles 28. In the story, the king of Samaria has defeated Judah. He is celebrating his spoils and treating the prisoners poorly when the prophet comes and tells him that God is not happy. He handed the people of Judah over to him because of His discipline, but He is not happy with how they are being treated by the king. The king thoughtfully repents:

So the armed men left the captives and the spoil before the princes and all the assembly. And the men who have been mentioned by name rose and took the captives, and with the spoil they clothed all who were naked among them. They clothed them, gave them sandals, provided them with food and drink, and anointed them, and carrying all the feeble among them on donkeys, they brought them to their kinsfolk at Jericho, the city of palm trees. Then they returned to Samaria.

This story has already happened! It’s a brilliant remez.

DRASH

As it stands, this is already an incredible teaching, but we have yet to uncover the drash. I worked for years trying to uncover the meaning. Then last year, one of my college students uncovered a chiasm in 2 Chronicles 28. Here is a depiction of the chiasm in the story of Chronicles:

Ahaz sacrifices to other gods (Baal)

The Lord humbles Ahaz with Aram and Isreal

Migration of people to Damascus

Man of Ephraim

Prophet Obed — “Restorer”

Men of Ephraim

Migration of people to Jericho

The Lord humbles Ahaz with Assyria

Ahaz sacrifices to other gods (Damascus)

The center of the chiasm ends up being Obed’s statement that they are to show mercy and love their enemies.

I don’t know if the lawyer’s mind exploded upon hearing this parable. I know he’s not even willing to say the name “Samaritan” when he answers Jesus. He apparently had a thought to ponder that night.

And again, if we are actually willing to hear the parable and not merely study it, so do we.

He who has ears, let him hear.

Image and Inscription

** I am indebted to Ray VanderLaan for much of the teaching in this post.

Apparently, in the midst of this story telling from Jesus during this week, these spiritual leaders decide it’s time to go on the offensive. The Pharisees and Sadducees work together (which is almost unfathomable; the two parties cannot stand each other) to try and trap Jesus in order to remove him from his place of influence.

One of the great Jewish debates of Jesus’s day was the debate that swirled around paying “taxes.” These “great debates” were fueled in large part by two rabbinic voices we haven’t talked about much. However, to understand the context of these two rabbinical schools is to have a much clearer perspective on the Jewish world of Jesus.

In the rabbinical generation that preceded Jesus, there were two rabbis who argued vehemently about the great Jewish debates. As we’ve seen, there was a conservative rabbi who held an interpretation of the law driven by the priorities of obedience (more on this in a later post). His name was Shammai. In the other corner was a rabbi who held to a much more progressive interpretation revolving around love for one’s neighbor. His name was Hillel. These two worldviews competed passionately over the interpretation of the law in matters of great debate.

Nevertheless, in order to understand the context of the debate about taxes, we need to first point out that the real issue isn’t about taxes at all. The gospel of Luke seems to give us clues by choosing the Greek word kensos to speak of taxes. The King James Version translates this more accurately as “tribute.” The debate isn’t asking about paying taxes as you and I would be familiar with paying taxes. In fact, the tribute they speak of was a particular coin that every resident in the Roman world was expected to purchase. This tribute coin could be used as a “receipt” that proved you had paid tribute to Caesar and to Rome. Upon validation of this receipt, you could be given incense at any number of different outposts where tribute was paid. You would offer the incense — and your worship — to Caesar.

Ruins of the temple at Omrit, just south of Caesarea Philippi

It should be worth noting that we have uncovered one of three tribute temples constructed by Herod the Great less than two miles from Caesarea Philippi, where the disciples have recently been, before Jesus set his course toward Jerusalem.

Now, understanding this context helps us understand the question being debated. It’s not just about paying money; the question is about idol worship. Realize that amongst the differing Jewish responses we’ve looked at before, there would have been differing opinions.

HERODIAN: “Sure, pay the tribute; God knows what’s in your heart.”

SADDUCEE: “Of course. Do you know what Rome gives us? Don’t make them angry!”

ESSENE: “You don’t have to pay tribute when you live out here in the desert…”

ZEALOT: “Anyone who offers tribute deserves to die!”

The PHARISEES, however, were split on the issue, depending on whether they held to Shammai or Hillel’s interpretation. Shammai Pharisees would have claimed this is an issue of idolatry and obedience demands we not purchase the coin. However, Hillel had a much different interpretation. Pointing to the book of Jeremiah and showing that God says He was using Nebuchadnezzar (one of the most brutal tyrants in human history) to do His will and the kingdom was being given to him, Hillel said that the ruling authorities are put in place by God. Therefore, when one buys the tribute coin, they are not taking part in idolatry, but simply giving back to the ruler what God has decided in His sovereign will to give him in the first place.

Notice the trap they set for Jesus:

Then the Pharisees went out and laid plans to trap him in his words. They sent their disciples to him along with the Herodians. “Teacher,” they said, “we know that you are a man of integrity and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. You aren’t swayed by others, because you pay no attention to who they are. Tell us then, what is your opinion? Is it right to pay the imperial tax to Caesar or not?”

In this sole mention of the Herodians, it is pointed out that they are conspiring along with the Hasidim, the very people who have an opposing worldview. They are setting Jesus up for failure. No matter how he answers, he’s going to make one of the groups angry; he’s either going to look like a compromising idolator or he’ll lose favor with the people.

But Jesus is a brilliant teacher.

He asks somebody to give him a coin — which is a really funny move. They are standing on the Temple Mount, where it is unlawful in Judaism to have Roman currency. In the words of my teacher, this is like a person questioning your position on pornography, and in response you ask for a Playboy and somebody hands you one. You’ve now shown the teacher where you fall in the argument, but he still hasn’t told you anything about his own opinion. We would assume one of the Herodians produced the coin, but still, that’s funny.

Jesus wants to know two things: whose image and whose inscription?

Now the image will be of Caesar and the inscription is going to speak of the divinity and worship of Caesar as a divine god. The tribute coin I have seen in person contains the inscription, “The worshipped son of a worshipped god.”

The people answer, “It’s Caesar’s inscription.”

The implication here is an unspoken question: Whose image and whose inscription is on you?

And in a stunning moment fit for a poetry slam, Jesus declares, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, but give to God what is God’s.” Actually, the King James Version will nail the translation again with the word “render.” The word render means “to give back.” Jesus uses Hillel’s position, but not without making it crystal clear that your worship belongs to God and God alone.

In other words, Jesus says, “Give Caesar his stupid coin, but don’t you EVER give him your worship!”

**mic drop**

And in that moment, every group is challenged by his words. The Herodians. The Shammai Pharisees. The Hillel Pharisees. The Sadducees. The Zealots.

It’s brilliant.

It challenges us, as well. It challenges us to consider the things we pledge allegiance to. It challenges us to consider the things that become the object of our hope — and our worship. It challenges us to wonder whether there can be another Empire other than God’s.

But Jesus, knowing their evil intent, said, “You hypocrites, why are you trying to trap me? Show me the coin used for paying the tax.” They brought him a denarius, and he asked them, “Whose image is this? And whose inscription?”

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

Then he said to them, “So give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.”

When they heard this, they were amazed. So they left him and went away.

The Approval of a Father

This week, I returned from a two-week adventure in the outdoors. We took the occasional break in a hotel room, but we stayed at three different campsites that took us on a loop through northern Idaho and into western Montana. I posted some pictures on my social networking sites, some of which were playful and in good humor, while others were serious and reflective. I definitely received the typical razzing I would expect from friends as they commented on the “glamping” I was doing in a camper loaned to us for the trip (what a blessing!), the Crocs I was wearing, and the Dora the Explorer lawn chair that belongs to my daughter. I received those jokes with joy.

But for me, this camping trip was deeply personal. This trip was about my dad.

The personal nature of this trip was planned and intentional; I was mentally engaged in this trip from the outset. It was not something that snuck up on me. My dad and I are similar and different (as I’m sure is the case with most all of us). I have some things about me that are dead ringers for my father, but our personalities are — in many ways — miles apart. My dad was always a man’s man as I grew up. He loves to build and fix things and work with his hands. My dad seems to be most at home when he has power tools in his hands, or when he’s under the hood of a car. As far as I know, this has always been true about him.

This has never been true about me. No, I seem to have the reverse feeling regarding things I build. I’m always slightly scared of power tools (a bad combination with my ignorance). And when I fix things, there’s an irrefutable law of the universe I deal with I call “Marty’s Law”; Marty’s Law is similar to Murphy’s, except it has an added financial component: If something can go wrong, it will — and it’s going to cost you exponentially more money.

I hate working on cars because I’m horrible at it and very impatient. I don’t like building things because of my incompetence. And the only power tool that ever felt comfortable for me is my brain. My poor dad had to have his only son prefer an encyclopedia to radial arm saw.

You see, I went on this camping trip partially because it’s one of the things I remember my dad doing with us as a family when I was young. And while I might not be able to fix your car or build you a bookshelf — dang it, I can camp. So I set out to do something without the help of anyone else. I wanted to be the hero for my kids that my dad was for me. I wanted to lead my family to somewhere that resembled the places my dad tried to lead me. I wanted to be like my dad.

Now, I know part of that seems ridiculous for a thirty-three-year-old man to be talking like this about his dad, but I know I’m not the only one who wrestles with these things. And I know that when I started out on this camping trip, I started under the false impression that I wanted to “make my dad proud.” And so I set off to prepare for the trip. And I made my lists and I bought the supplies. I researched the driving routes and the common pitfalls I would experience along the way. When I went to pick up the camper offered to us and I realized that what I thought was going to be a 10’ pop-up tent trailer was actually a 28’, 9000-pound camper — making me a 42’ mass of moving vehicle on the back roads of Montana — I gulped down my fear, thought of my dad, and hitched it up. There was even one point on the trip where I believe I subconsciously “chose” to take the ridiculously perilous road, just because I wanted to be like my dad.

And you know what? We did it.

I use the plural “we” to speak of my family. I use the plural “we” to remind myself that this trip was never about me on my own. My wife and my kids were always there with me. There was never-ending provision and blessing from God throughout the entire adventure. And so I use “we” to remind us of these truths.

But I also use “we” to refer to my dad and me. We did it.

And at one point on the trip, I remember a tear rolling down my cheek as I thought to myself, “Yeah. Dad would be proud.” And in that same moment I realized this was never about whether Dad was “proud of me.”

You see, my dad has never done anything to make me question whether or not he was proud of me. My dad has told me with his words and shown me with his actions. My dad has never — to my memory — talked down to me or belittled me for who I am or who God’s made me to be. I have never felt like a failure to my dad; even in my moments of failure, my dad has never let those moments define me. He’s never held them over my head or kept a scorecard of my screw-ups.

My dad is a model of humility and faithfulness. As my dad has grown older, it seems he’s become even more of a learner; the older he gets, the more he has been changed. Maybe that’s just my eyes maturing as an observant son, but as a guy who makes his living by dealing with people, that kind of humility is so incredibly rare. My dad’s faithfulness has astounded me throughout the years. In a world where it becomes difficult to find someone who isn’t driven by their own shallow desires and comfort, my dad has shown me what it means to be disciplined. Day after day after day, my father has gotten out of bed to do the things that need to be done — work, lead the family, help his wife, raise his kids, serve others — day after day after day. To my knowledge, my father has never complained about his career, resisted in his relationships, or given up on his children. My dad does the things you need to do because, well, they need to be done.

So, this recent trip really wasn’t about “making Dad proud,” because I’ve always known I have my father’s approval. This trip, for me, was about honoring my dad.

As I get older, I keep hearing this phrase from my wife and others (with increasing regularity): “That was just like your dad.” Usually a facial expression or a saying that I’ll use will solicit this comparison. It struck me recently how blessed I am to hear those words as something that makes me proud. Far too many people seem to live with the desire to, no matter what, not be like their parents. I guess I’m just blessed to have a dad I want to look like (and no, I’m not talking about physical appearances; my father certainly never grew a huge beard or shaved his dome). If I can pick up even a bit of my dad’s character, I’ll be a far better man/father/husband than I am today.

Maybe we spend so much time searching for our father’s approval that we forget to extend our own.

So Dad, I’m proud of you, in the deepest sense of the word. And we did it — me and the legacy you’re leaving in my life. We went camping and towed the trailer and used the camper stove and made fires and even rented a canoe. (So maybe that last one was just me; you never really were a water guy.) And there were times I wanted to take the easy way out and there were times when I was even a little scared, but we did it. We did it because I want to be a hero to my kids the same way “Grandpa” was to me. Most importantly, I hope that when they’re older, they too will say the greatest hero moments in their lives weren’t campfires, trucks, and trailers — but they were the moments when my character looked a little like yours.

I love you, Dad.

Happy Father’s Day.

Gone Fishing...

It's time for summer vacations! Are you taking one? You should. Jesus did. I know I am. In fact, I'll be out away from the computer for a couple of weeks (always a good decision). So don't fret. On June 22nd, we'll be picking up right where we left off!

Breaking Dress Code

After giving the spiritual leaders of Israel some time to consider his teaching (at least that’s how it reads in Matthew), Jesus moves on to his next parable. This will be the parable of the wedding banquet.

Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come.”

The setting of this parable, especially following the parable of the tenants, will be much easier to decipher on a p’shat level. The Kingdom of Heaven is like a party (which I feel is nearly enough to chew on without going any further, but I digress…) that has been thrown by God. He invited His people to be the firstcomers to this party, but just like the elder brothers they are, they refuse to go in.

“Then he sent some more servants and said, ‘Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding banquet.’ 

“But they paid no attention and went off—one to his field, another to his business. The rest seized his servants, mistreated them and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.”

I think it’s interesting that Jesus comes into Jerusalem on this final week so clearly convinced of the impending doom and destruction of the city of Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans (more on this in later posts), but he certainly does. He paints a picture of God’s relentless pursuit of His people and an invitation that keeps going out, but it is ignored, disrespected, and despised.

“Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. So go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’ So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, the bad as well as the good, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.”

And Matthew’s agenda is again seen in full effect here in Jesus’s teaching. God will have His party. While the invitations are initially sent to His firstborn children, He will have His party, one way or another. And so He fills His banquet hall with anyone who is willing to come and be a part of His celebration.

A pause here is certainly warranted. With only a p’shat level reading, there is much at this point in the teaching for those of us who call ourselves “followers” to consider. The setting of the parable is one that haunts me routinely. God is throwing a party. Apparently, this party is not the kind of party that I am prepared for. It’s not thrown at the right time, in the right way, or in the right place. The religious, the people who claim to speak for God, the ones on the guest list do not seem to be interested in this party God is throwing — and it leads to their demise.

Am I insistent that God throw the kind of party I would throw? 

Am I blinded by the fact that God’s definition of a party isn’t mine? 

Am I so distracted by the worries of this world, my own personal agendas, and idolatry of self to hear the invitation?

Apparently the religious folks have a hard time realizing God is throwing a party.

While I’m tempted to assume this passage doesn’t apply to me, I think that deep down I know better. I think that over time I begin to believe God works for me, and He throws the kinds of parties I want, when I want, and where I want them.

And I’m afraid I miss out on far too many of the parties that God is actually throwing.

But Jesus’s point isn’t directed at just anybody. Jesus is hurling this parable at the religious leaders of Israel. It’s at this point the teaching takes an incredibly awkward turn:

“Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. So go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’ So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, the bad as well as the good, and the wedding hall was filled with guests. 

“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. He asked, ‘How did you get in here without wedding clothes, friend?’ The man was speechless. 

“Then the king told the attendants, ‘Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ 

“For many are invited, but few are chosen.”

Not wearing wedding clothes? What?

I have been told that in this world, if a king were to throw such a banquet he would also provide the attire. Part of your attendance would include a willingness to come early, prepare yourself for the celebration, and dress appropriately. I have never been able to verify this and I’m not sure it’s true, but on a p’shat level it seems as though this might insinuate a person who wants to be a part of the celebration, but not recognize God’s design, desire, or authority. He wants to be a part of God’s will, he just doesn’t want to do it God’s way.

But I think there might be more than that going on here. I think it may be linking us to our remez. Consider Zephaniah 1, a prophecy leveled against a corrupt priesthood:

“On the day of the Lord’s sacrifice    I will punish the officials    and the king’s sonsand all those clad    in foreign clothes.On that day I will punish    all who avoid stepping on the threshold,who fill the temple of their gods    with violence and deceit. 

“On that day,”
    declares the Lord,
“a cry will go up from the Fish Gate,
    wailing from the New Quarter,
    and a loud crash from the hills.
Wail, you who live in the market district;
    all your merchants will be wiped out,
    all who trade with silver will be destroyed.
At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps
    and punish those who are complacent,
    who are like wine left on its dregs,
who think, ‘The Lord will do nothing,
    either good or bad.’
Their wealth will be plundered,
    their houses demolished.
Though they build houses,
    they will not live in them;
though they plant vineyards,
    they will not drink the wine.” 

The great day of the Lord is near—
    near and coming quickly.
The cry on the day of the Lord is bitter;
    the Mighty Warrior shouts his battle cry.
That day will be a day of wrath—
    a day of distress and anguish,
        a day of trouble and ruin,
    a day of darkness and gloom,
        a day of clouds and blackness—
    a day of trumpet and battle cry
against the fortified cities
    and against the corner towers. 

“I will bring such distress on all people
    that they will grope about like those who are blind,
    because they have sinned against the Lord.
Their blood will be poured out like dust
    and their entrails like dung.
Neither their silver nor their gold
    will be able to save them
    on the day of the Lord’s wrath.”

The drash of this parable turns into a scathing retort of the Sadducees. They sure want to be a part of God’s party, but they have no interest in doing it God’s way. And Jesus foretells of the doom that awaits them because they refuse to care for God’s people. They continue to take advantage of those who are trying to find and worship God.

Of course, Jesus is still not done interacting with these corrupt leaders…