The Mountain

One of the most fascinating things my teacher pointed out was that the Great Commission and the Ascension of Jesus were not the same event. Being the culminating event of more than one gospel, I had always assumed that Jesus had given the Great Commission in the same speech where he ascended. But this is clearly not so in the Text — and I couldn’t believe I had missed it before that moment!

It is plain to see from the opening of the book of Acts that Jesus ascends from the Mount of Olives, just outside of Jerusalem. This is found within the records (both Luke and Acts; as we discussed earlier, Mark is circumspect, at the very least) of the ascension and is not disputed, historicity aside. What I never realized is the record of where the commissioning took place. Look at the record within Matthew 28:

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

And a little later in the chapter we read this:

Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go.

Beside the fact that it seems Jesus has to show up to repeat the angel’s instructions, I find this to be a brilliant rabbinical move. While I’ve never been able to find any hints as to which mountain Jesus is referring to, the disciples seem to understand.Whether it was Mt. Arbel, some other “peak” in the region of the triangle, or some other mountain in the larger region of the Galilee (Lower and Upper “Galil”) is debatable, but Jesus does not instruct the women to tell the disciples about a mountain, nor are we given any indication that they did. 

I like to suggest that they went to Mt. Hermon, where I personally believe the Transfiguration happened (I know — traditional sites put it on Mt. Tabor, I have my reasons in the Text). I think this because of the phrase that appears in both sets of instructions, from Jesus and the angel: “There you will see him.” It seems to me that one of the most crucial moments of Jesus’s ministry was the Transfiguration where Jesus was seen in his glory. Of course, this is neither here nor there (no pun intended).

If I am correct about Mt. Hermon, the reason I think this is so brilliant is because it accomplishes two things:

1) The disciples, who are in Jerusalem (at least at some point after the resurrection), have to travel all the way to the northernmost point of Jesus’s ministry. Located just north of Caesarea Philippi, Mt. Hermon is one of three sources of the Jordan River. It would force the disciples to walk right past (almost literally) every moment of Jesus’s ministry. They would have the opportunity to walk by and unpack all of Jesus’s teachings. Once they get to “the mountain” and receive the commission, they would then have to walk BACK by all of those spots again and continue discussing all of the teachings of Jesus. What a brilliant field trip from the rabbi! But since we mentioned Caesarea Philippi…

2) This was a huge, defining moment in Jesus’s ministry. This is where Jesus said, “I will build my church.” Wouldn’t it make sense, as he wraps up his time on earth before his ascension, that he would utter the Great Commission in the same location where he said he would do his work? And wouldn’t it make sense to utter his command to make disciples of “all nations” at the same place where he marched his disciples to teach them that the Kingdom of God was coming to ALL people — even to the very “Gates of Hell”?

But then there is the command Jesus actually gives to his disciples…

Empty

It’s the greatest event in all of human history.

There are great debates that take place over the nature of Christology. If one were to think about Jesus’s life in the realm of incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection, some of my favorite modern theologians have great thoughts surrounding which might be the most significant. Yes, I can hear you groaning and wondering out loud, “Aren’t they all significant?” Yes, they are. And yet our theology is shaped by which of these three we view it through.

Much of evangelical Christianity clings to the idea of substitutionary atonement (in short, that Jesus died your death; more on this later in our series), and in this, the obvious conclusion is in the work of the crucifixion. While an obvious conclusion for followers of this theory of atonement, it raises very important Christological questions about the life of Jesus, let alone the resurrection. If “dying was his reason for living” (a claim made by Mel Gibson in The Passion of the Christ), then was everything else just “filler”? Was the resurrection just a neat magic trick at the end to say, “Tah Dah! Look, I really AM God!”

Greg Boyd, one of my favorite thinkers, loves to argue for the preeminence and centrality of the crucifixion. His idea is that God, His plan and His nature, is revealed perfectly through the work of the cross. Everything we see in the world of theology should be seen through the lens of the crucifixion. I have had some good-natured banters with Boyd on Twitter over this idea. Another of my favorite thinkers, and one of Boyd’s good theologian friends, Tony Jones, comes from the school of what I will call “solidarity Christology,” and loves to raise points about the preeminence of the incarnation. There is an idea that God came to join us in solidarity. He came to join the struggle — the cross being the ultimate end to that work of solidarity. It is the idea of God joining us that drives theology.

I, however, like to believe in the preeminence of the resurrection.

Since the very beginning of this story of God, we have been in an intense and vivid struggle between empire and shalom — between falsehood and truth. We have experienced the struggle between two orders: the Order of Death and the Order of Life. We know these two orders well.

The Order of Death: Cancer, greed, adultery, selfishness, disease, disasters, corruption, fear, and the like.

The Order of Life: Love, mercy, forgiveness, hope, joy, healing, redemption, second chances, and the like.

Since the very beginning we have found ourselves in the tension between which order is most true, or which order gets the last word in the end. And as we look at the world around us, it would seem that the Order of Death is winning. It would seem that cancer has taken far too many family members, the greedy are the ones with all the power, disaster cannot be thwarted, and death ultimately wins.

I mean, what is more finite than death? What is more real than the idea that in the end, you die?

In the beginning, we are invited to trust the story. At its core, the invitation of Genesis was an invitation to believe in the reality of the Order of Life. The great fall of humanity happened (and happens) because we choose to live in fear, insecurity, and doubt. We begin to see the wind and waves and believe that in fact, the Order of Death does get the last word. 

And all throughout Tanakh, we are posed this question. Moses set before the people in Deuteronomy life and death. Joshua invited the Israelites to follow Adonai, and if not, pick whichever gods from the Order of Death they would choose. The prophets pleaded with their brothers and sisters to repent and put their trust back in the Order of Life.

Ezekiel was asked about hope, about death, and about life. He was shown a valley full of dry bones and asked, “Can these bones live?”

Ezekiel was a man of hope. “Sovereign LORD, only you know.”

What do we truly believe about life and death?

Understand that the resurrection changes everything. On that fateful morning when the tomb was found barren and empty, God finally answered the question that He had allowed only Ezekiel to see in a vision.

Apparently, death isn’t as real as we thought it was. And that changes everything.

Paul does not say in the fifteenth chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians that without the crucifixion, their faith is in vain. As enamored as he and the other authors of the New Testament were with the incarnation (an incredible truth!), he did not give such an idea the place either. Instead, Paul says the following: 

But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.

I have stood in a lot of tombs during my time in Israel. I have stood in a few that claim (directly or indirectly) to be THE tomb. There is one thing that is true about all of them. They are empty.

Resurrection is God’s affirmation that the Order of Life really does get the last word. The way of generosity really is the best way to live. Forgiveness is worth paying the price for, and love really does win.

Resurrection is God’s way of saying hope is worth it, and the story really can be trusted.

I choose to be a person of hope.

He is not here. He is risen.

HOLY WEEK: Rome

While this will probably be a somewhat anticlimactic post, I have always found this conversation to be one worth wrestling with. It seems that in our efforts to correct some past antisemitic abuses, we have at times overcorrected and made statements that don’t quite jive with the historical setting.

We’ve already addressed the political situation that led to the showdown that fateful week of Passover. In this annual time of political tension, Rome has been flexing its muscles in a way that makes it quite clear: don’t mess with Rome. The man we call Pontius Pilate has been hired for the job of Roman stalwart — a bulldog of a leader who will establish political stability at all costs.

Make no mistake, Jesus has riled up some people throughout this Holy Week. He may have even drawn some attention from Rome with his triumphal entry stunt and the whole group of people waving palm branches. I’m sure the guards in the Antonio Fortress (a Roman guard post overlooking the temple courts — and a glaring statement about the watchful eye of Rome over the Jewish people and their worship) went on alert as Jesus starting flipping over tables on the Temple Mount.

But Jesus wasn’t picking a fight with Rome.

Of course, on one level, that last statement isn’t true. Jesus’s entire ministry has been a statement about the lie of Empire and the promise of a new and better Kingdom. As scholars like Dominic Crossan have pointed out, these are fighting words. You don’t claim to have a Kingdom that stands in opposition to Rome — not without being prepared to pay the consequences.

But Jesus’s teachings have appeared to the world of Rome completely backwards and counterintuitive. Some have used the words “mystic” in connection to the kind of rabbi Jesus was. Jesus wasn’t marching on Rome or leading a revolt with swords or clubs. Jesus wasn’t fighting a worldly war over a worldly kingdom in a worldly way. In fact, it is when Pilate asks Jesus if he is a king, Jesus responds by saying, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight.”

But they aren’t here to wage war on Rome as a political empire.

They ARE here to wage war on Empire itself.

And Empire is showing up in their own house, with their own leadership. Forget about Rome. Jesus marches into the Temple to do some housecleaning of his own.

I’m sure it’s possible that Jesus had Rome’s attention.

But was Rome out to get Jesus?

What kind of a threat is this peasant rabbi who’s been running around telling people to forgive their enemies?

This is most clear in the gospel account of John as we watch Pilate try again and again to find something to accuse Jesus of — and he fails. He then tries again and again to release Jesus, stating he found no fault in him.

Rome tried to laugh this peasant rabbi off. A threat? No way.

But this wasn’t about military power or the threat of a heavenly kingdom. This was about a political threat to the stability of Rome in this region, and the ability of Pilate to keep the region secure. The trial before Pilate isn’t about Jesus; it is the interaction between Pilate and the corrupt religious leaders who saw an imminent threat to their system of power and luxury.

This was a religious mafia making it quite clear: “Pilate, if you don’t execute this man as a terrorist — publicly — we will make this very difficult on you. We will turn this region on its head and let Caesar know who his real friends are.” Listen to what they say in the Text:

From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jewish leaders kept shouting, “If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.”

When Pilate heard this, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judge’s seat at a place known as the Stone Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha). It was the day of Preparation of the Passover; it was about noon.

“Here is your king,” Pilate said to the Jews.

But they shouted, “Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!”

“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate asked.

“We have no king but Caesar,” the chief priests answered.

Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified.

This is about politics. This is about corrupted religious power.

Now, to reiterate, this is not an effort to say “the Jews killed Jesus.” Not at all. As we’ve mentioned multiple times before, the Jews responded quite favorably to the teachings and ministry of Jesus. It is clear from the Text above that this coup is being led by the chief priests — not the Jews, not even the priesthood or the Sadducean party, but the chief families in charge of the rule of Ananus.

And so Pilate washes his hands of the situation and caves to the political pressure, a move that does little to let him off the hook.

Putting things in their appropriate place has always been important for me. Maybe it’s because I want to know how to properly understand the situation that led to Jesus’s execution. Maybe it’s because I want to understand the people who called for it and why. Maybe it’s because I want to understand the dangers of religious power and corruption.

Maybe it’s because I have a deep love for the Eastern Church tradition that claims Pilate (who we know nothing about from history after this point) escaped from his service to Rome and fled to Egypt, where he became a follower of Jesus and the leader of the church there.

Call me a sucker for happy endings and a stickler for hope.

But speaking of great endings, it’s about time we talk about this empty tomb thing…

HOLY WEEK: Peter's Denial

We left the last post hanging on the question of whether or not Judas was the only betrayer. I ask that question because I think the story demands we see the tension of another betrayer.

After running from the Sanhedrin’s arrest on the Mount of Olives, John uses his connections with someone, presumably a servant in the High Priest’s household, to get them onto the private grounds of Jesus’s trial. As we’ve mentioned before, it should be noted that Jesus is not standing a public trial in front of the formal Sanhedrin, but is instead being tried informally (and unjustly) by the mafia-style Sanhedrin, meeting at the High Priest’s house. This is clear from the Text.

We are told that Peter is in the courtyard, hanging out with those who are warming themselves by the fire while all the commotion is happening. It’s impressive to consider that John and Peter sneak onto the grounds of this house once we realize they are standing in the home of the “godfather” figure of the corrupt priesthood. As Peter tries to keep a low profile (we have no idea what happens to John), Jesus is persecuted and tried throughout the evening.

As Peter is standing near the fire, he is confronted more than once about his identity; according to one gospel account, he even tries to leave the group and relocate and is still confronted about who he is. Eventually, exactly as Jesus predicted, Peter denies his association with the rabbi on trial inside, and we are told he meets the gaze of Jesus himself as the rooster crows. In an eerie moment of the story, Peter rushes out of the courtyard to his home and proceeds to weep bitterly for what he has done.

Not many of us catch the gravity of what Peter has just done. For a talmid to publicly disassociate with the rabbi is unheard of in rabbinical discipleship — the truest form of a slap to his teacher’s face. In fact, on a lot of levels, if you read this story in context, it is tempting to think Peter’s denial is a much deeper betrayal than that of Judas. Judas made his error while being misguided in his understanding of Jesus’s mission, while Peter refuses to associate with the man at all.

One can see the significance of this moment by watching Jesus’s interaction with Peter in the gospel of John. After the crucifixion, Peter and some of the disciples have gone home and started working. Peter understands that his time as a disciple is done; he has forsaken the rabbi, and this is a cardinal offense.

This is also how the others would have seen it. It is interesting to realize that without the account of John’s gospel, we would know very little about the life of Peter (outside of the book of Acts). All three synoptic gospels allow Peter to be characterized by his worst moment, without ever mentioning his name again. It is only Peter’s best friend, John, who gives us insight into the personal and intimate reinstatement of Peter as a disciple — and as the ring-leader of the the havurah.

Consider this passage from the ending of the gospel of Mark:

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’ ”

Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

Go tell the disciples… and Peter.

If the angel doesn’t specify Peter, the women will leave him out, because Peter isn’t a disciple anymore.

Peter has blown it. He made the ultimate mistake.

You don’t come back from denying your rabbi.

And yet, the authors of the gospels are adamant throughout that Peter is not the betrayer — Judas is. I think one of the reasons the gospel writers keep pointing this out is because a typical first-century reader (especially a Jewish reader) is not going to identify Judas as the betrayer, but Peter.

So what is it about Peter and Judas that makes Judas “the one who betrayed Jesus”?

I would suggest it is the way their story ends. They both make huge mistakes. One of them misjudges who their teacher is and what he’s up to in the world. The other disassociates and denies even the slightest connection to their rabbi. Both are wrong. 

But one chooses to let his story end there. And one chooses to let himself be reinstated.

I have NO desire for this to become a teaching about suicide. I am trying to speak to the larger, poetic nuances of the story itself. I am trying to speak to the meta-narrative arc of your story and mine — how it fits within God’s bigger story. I have far too many close friends who struggle with clinical depression and battle against suicide. Throwing rocks at those who struggle with such things would be a betrayal of the very story we are reading. And projecting anything other than that onto my words would be inaccurate. I am not making grandiose statements about the choice of suicide or their eternal destination. Not even in the slightest.

But this is a story about hope.

The only true betrayal of Jesus and what he stood for would be to believe there is no tomorrow — to believe there is no coming back from this.

Judas decides his mistakes cannot be overcome. Judas decides his story will end here. Judas decides there is no coming back.

Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus.

But Jesus’s entire ministry has been and always will be about the God of Second Chances. And the God of Third Chances. And the God of Endless Grace and Bottomless Hope.

Peter is willing to walk on a beach with Jesus and face his greatest fears. Peter is willing to stare down his greatest insecurities. Peter is willing to trust that when his rabbi says he’s still worth saving and still fit to feed his sheep — he means it.

And Peter is willing to trust Jesus to give him a new tomorrow.

This story has always been a story about new tomorrows. This story has always been about allowing God to write incredible endings. This story has always been an invitation to trust that God says you have value and acceptance and worth.

This story has always been a reminder that you aren’t defined by your biggest mistakes, your deepest insecurities, or your worst fears.

Your rabbi says that a new tomorrow is accessible for you today. Will you trust him?

HOLY WEEK: Judas

One of the most interesting characters in the gospels is that of Judas Iscariot. Much is thought of and projected upon this character, and I find a deeper understanding of the (at least possible) cultural setting makes this conversation much more helpful in my learning from the story. Learning from the story would be the reason to study it, rather than simply having “feelings” about the characters. I think learning about the person of Judas is what brings so much humanity to the story, the disciples, and the betrayal of Jesus.

We don’t know a whole lot about Judas until this final week of Jesus’s life. We know Judas is in charge of the money. It becomes clear that the disciples (particularly the writers of the gospels) have identified him as the betrayer. We know he has a least a pseudo-concern for the poor, although John seems to suggest Judas was a thief who would steal from the moneybag.

But what might help us the most is to examine his name, Judas Iscariot. “Iscariot” is a combination of the Hebrew ish (meaning “man”) and Cariot, which gives us “Judas, man from Cariot.” There is ample evidence to suggest this name identifies Judas as a Zealot. Knowing this about Judas could help us learn a ton about him; for instance, this would explain his pseudo-concern for the poor, as the Zealots were increasingly frustrated with the oppression of their Jewish brothers (sympathetic brothers, of course). Zealots were often thieves at heart, believing in a “Robin Hood” mentality of taking what was needed for the greater good. I can even imagine Judas immediately volunteering for the job of treasurer, in contrast to the nasty tax-collector named Levi/Matthew, whom a good Zealot would have hated immensely for everything they represent.

Nevertheless, what this would truly help us understand is the betrayal of Judas himself. It is entirely probable that Judas, after hearing Jesus’s electrified and confrontational teachings directed at the chief priests that week (a group the Zealots hated and typically sought to assassinate), misread Jesus’s intentions — as most of the disciples did — and sought to kick off this inevitable revolution by betraying Jesus into the hands of his enemies, knowing this would spark the revolt he knew was coming.

This would also offer an explanation as to why Judas is so wrecked with guilt that he will commit suicide. He completely misread the situation. When he realizes he has betrayed his rabbi and started a process that led to his execution, he cannot believe his misfortune nor bear his misdeeds.

Peter Rollins (in Fidelity of Betrayal) has gone as far as to suggest that Judas and Jesus had a prearranged agreement, that Jesus had asked Judas to betray him, knowing he would be one of the only ones with enough zeal to pull it off. While I don’t agree with this theory, it does provide some insight into why Jesus says some of the things he says to Judas that night (e.g., “What you need to do, do quickly.”). Again, I’m not sure I see enough in the gospel accounts (and elsewhere) to fully embrace this theory, but I find it interesting to consider.

At any rate, it should be noted that even Judas has a phenomenal commitment to the Text up until his last moment. Have you ever considered why Judas throws his silver coins into the Temple? How does he get in there? You don’t just run into the Temple at night (let alone during the day); of course, Zealots were known for storming the Temple courts and assassinating priests as they served. Consider the words of Zechariah as he denounced the shepherds of God’s people:

The flock detested me, and I grew weary of them and said, “I will not be your shepherd. Let the dying die, and the perishing perish. Let those who are left eat one another’s flesh.”

Then I took my staff called Favor and broke it, revoking the covenant I had made with all the nations. It was revoked on that day, and so the oppressed of the flock who were watching me knew it was the word of the LORD.

I told them, “If you think it best, give me my pay; but if not, keep it.” So they paid me thirty pieces of silver.

And the LORD said to me, “Throw it to the potter”—the handsome price at which they valued me! So I took the thirty pieces of silver and threw them to the potter at the house of the Lord.

Then I broke my second staff called Union, breaking the family bond between Judah and Israel.

Then the LORD said to me, “Take again the equipment of a foolish shepherd. For I am going to raise up a shepherd over the land who will not care for the lost, or seek the young, or heal the injured, or feed the healthy, but will eat the meat of the choice sheep, tearing off their hooves.

“Woe to the worthless shepherd,
    who deserts the flock!
May the sword strike his arm and his right eye!
    May his arm be completely withered,
    his right eye totally blinded!”

Judas responds to his plight with grand statements from the Text! How badly we need to know our whole Bibles in order to understand truly the parts that we do read!

But I continue to be struck by the realization that Jesus’s disciples thought they were staging a Zealot-like rebellion the entire time. This wasn’t only Judas’s error. Make no mistake about it: Up until Jesus’s crucifixion (and even after), the disciples are waiting for the great revolution. They think their rabbi is a Zealot. Of course, it’s easy to see how you might take a few of Jesus’s teachings and believe that — Jesus made some electrifying statements.

But it makes me wonder how often I misread the intent of Jesus. It makes me examine how often I might misunderstand what Jesus is trying to do in the world because of how I choose to hear some of his teachings while ignoring the rest.

I continue to be challenged by the story of Judas.

But is he the only betrayer?

HOLY WEEK: Judas

One of the most interesting characters in the gospels is that of Judas Iscariot. Much is thought of and projected upon this character, and I find a deeper understanding of the (at least possible) cultural setting makes this conversation much more helpful in my learning from the story. Learning from the story would be the reason to study it, rather than simply having “feelings” about the characters. I think learning about the person of Judas is what brings so much humanity to the story, the disciples, and the betrayal of Jesus.

We don’t know a whole lot about Judas until this final week of Jesus’s life. We know Judas is in charge of the money. It becomes clear that the disciples (particularly the writers of the gospels) have identified him as the betrayer. We know he has a least a pseudo-concern for the poor, although John seems to suggest Judas was a thief who would steal from the moneybag.

But what might help us the most is to examine his name, Judas Iscariot. “Iscariot” is a combination of the Hebrew ish (meaning “man”) and Cariot, which gives us “Judas, man from Cariot.” There is ample evidence to suggest this name identifies Judas as a Zealot. Knowing this about Judas could help us learn a ton about him; for instance, this would explain his pseudo-concern for the poor, as the Zealots were increasingly frustrated with the oppression of their Jewish brothers (sympathetic brothers, of course). Zealots were often thieves at heart, believing in a “Robin Hood” mentality of taking what was needed for the greater good. I can even imagine Judas immediately volunteering for the job of treasurer, in contrast to the nasty tax-collector named Levi/Matthew, whom a good Zealot would have hated immensely for everything they represent.

Nevertheless, what this would truly help us understand is the betrayal of Judas himself. It is entirely probable that Judas, after hearing Jesus’s electrified and confrontational teachings directed at the chief priests that week (a group the Zealots hated and typically sought to assassinate), misread Jesus’s intentions — as most of the disciples did — and sought to kick off this inevitable revolution by betraying Jesus into the hands of his enemies, knowing this would spark the revolt he knew was coming.

This would also offer an explanation as to why Judas is so wrecked with guilt that he will commit suicide. He completely misread the situation. When he realizes he has betrayed his rabbi and started a process that led to his execution, he cannot believe his misfortune nor bear his misdeeds.

Peter Rollins (in Fidelity of Betrayal) has gone as far as to suggest that Judas and Jesus had a prearranged agreement, that Jesus had asked Judas to betray him, knowing he would be one of the only ones with enough zeal to pull it off. While I don’t agree with this theory, it does provide some insight into why Jesus says some of the things he says to Judas that night (e.g., “What you need to do, do quickly.”). Again, I’m not sure I see enough in the gospel accounts (and elsewhere) to fully embrace this theory, but I find it interesting to consider.

At any rate, it should be noted that even Judas has a phenomenal commitment to the Text up until his last moment. Have you ever considered why Judas throws his silver coins into the Temple? How does he get in there? You don’t just run into the Temple at night (let alone during the day); of course, Zealots were known for storming the Temple courts and assassinating priests as they served. Consider the words of Zechariah as he denounced the shepherds of God’s people:

The flock detested me, and I grew weary of them and said, “I will not be your shepherd. Let the dying die, and the perishing perish. Let those who are left eat one another’s flesh.”

Then I took my staff called Favor and broke it, revoking the covenant I had made with all the nations. It was revoked on that day, and so the oppressed of the flock who were watching me knew it was the word of the LORD.

I told them, “If you think it best, give me my pay; but if not, keep it.” So they paid me thirty pieces of silver.

And the LORD said to me, “Throw it to the potter”—the handsome price at which they valued me! So I took the thirty pieces of silver and threw them to the potter at the house of the Lord.

Then I broke my second staff called Union, breaking the family bond between Judah and Israel.

Then the LORD said to me, “Take again the equipment of a foolish shepherd. For I am going to raise up a shepherd over the land who will not care for the lost, or seek the young, or heal the injured, or feed the healthy, but will eat the meat of the choice sheep, tearing off their hooves.

“Woe to the worthless shepherd,
    who deserts the flock!
May the sword strike his arm and his right eye!
    May his arm be completely withered,
    his right eye totally blinded!”

Judas responds to his plight with grand statements from the Text! How badly we need to know our whole Bibles in order to understand truly the parts that we do read!

But I continue to be struck by the realization that Jesus’s disciples thought they were staging a Zealot-like rebellion the entire time. This wasn’t only Judas’s error. Make no mistake about it: Up until Jesus’s crucifixion (and even after), the disciples are waiting for the great revolution. They think their rabbi is a Zealot. Of course, it’s easy to see how you might take a few of Jesus’s teachings and believe that — Jesus made some electrifying statements.

But it makes me wonder how often I misread the intent of Jesus. It makes me examine how often I might misunderstand what Jesus is trying to do in the world because of how I choose to hear some of his teachings while ignoring the rest.

I continue to be challenged by the story of Judas.

But is he the only betrayer?

HOLY WEEK: The Plot to Kill Jesus

The conversation about “who killed Jesus” is a very electric topic that you don’t dive into hastily. With so much antisemitism that swirls under the surface, handling this question can be a ticking time bomb. Nevertheless, it is interesting to make some very basic observations about what gets Jesus in so much trouble.

Without a doubt, I will not let Rome off the hook in this story, but I want to deal with Rome and Pilate in a later post, so I won’t talk about them here. There is no question that Rome plays a part in the crucifixion of Jesus. They have to: The Jewish leadership does not have the judicial authority to execute prisoners by crucifixion. So, at the very least, Rome authorizes the death of Jesus.

But what gets Jesus in trouble is something far deeper than the Roman authorities. This would be the perfect place to go back and review our lesson that explained the context of the Sadducees and the chief priests.

There are a few things that should be stated right up front:

“The Jews” didn’t kill Jesus. This has been one of the most destructive misinterpretations of history the world has ever seen. Millions of Jews have been slaughtered in the name of this false idea. All throughout the gospels, it is clear the Jewish people loved, adored, and even revered Jesus. The plot to kill Jesus hinges completely upon executing Jesus outside the eye of the Jewish public so they won’t rebel against the Jewish leaders. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the phrase, “Jesus entered Jerusalem to cheers from the crowd only to be crucified by them a week later.” To be very clear, it was not the same crowd. Jesus is arrested, tried, and beaten by a corrupt body of ruling priests and their “mafia-style justice.”

Even though the Pharisees helped arrange this plot (at least a few of them did), the Pharisees were not the ones who led the charge in this execution. This is completely unappreciated in our teachings. The Pharisees and the Sadducees despised each other! That they would work together to conspire against Jesus is incredible culturally. It makes me think the Pharisees involved were as corrupt as the chief priests. One must keep in mind that the Pharisees tried to save Jesus’s life more than once earlier on in his ministry.

It is the chief priests who conspire against Jesus and arrange his execution. It’s worth noticing that Jesus spends three years confronting the Pharisees within every corner of their theology and survives to tell the tale, and even continues to engage them in their methods up until his death. Compare that to the fact Jesus spends less than one week confronting the corrupt rule of the chief priests and he gets himself killed. This is why Jesus knows he is going to die in Jerusalem. It’s not because he has his “God goggles” on, looking into the future; it’s because he knows he is headed into Jerusalem to confront the injustice of the religious mafia — and nobody survives to tell that tale.

Once we have an understanding of the corruption that lied behind the execution of Jesus, it helps us appreciate the story on so many levels.

Why Jesus is tried by the “Sanhedrin”? Josephus told us there were two groups of Sanhedrin: there was the formal ruling body made up of Sadducees and Pharisees, and there was the the informal back-door Sanhedrin who met in the home of the chief priest. They made decisions that were later “ratified” in the formal body. That’s how this corruption operated. Where was Jesus tried? In the home of the chief priest. This is not the formal Sanhedrin, but the informal one.

This helps us see why the trial of Jesus is so corrupt, breaking over fifteen commandments held by Jewish teaching about how to conduct an investigation and hold a trial appropriately. They break all of these rules because they don’t care. They are the chief priests.

This will help us understand the political sway that this group will hold over Pilate later. 

This will help us understand many things. My recommendation would be to go back and read the story again, realizing that the “chief priests” are corrupt families running a completely corrupt Temple system.

But now we need to discuss the betrayer who assists in bringing this plan to action.

Thoughts on a Week of Passion

I now reach the point of my blog series where we encounter the depth of what’s been called “Passion Week” or “Holy Week” — essentially the last week of Jesus’s life that leads up to his crucifixion.

As a teacher, I don’t like teaching on the crucifixion. And I’m not sure why, exactly.

I don’t like to make one of the most sacred and significant acts in all of human history merely an academic exercise. I don’t think there is anything wrong in dealing with the cross from an academic perspective — not at all. I am thankful for those who have and do; their studies have meant a lot to me and I cherish their work.

Maybe it’s because I have spent my whole life in the church, surrounded by the discussion that finds its center at the cross of Christ. Maybe it’s that I still find myself captivated by its story and testimony. Maybe it’s the week when I chose not to go with my parents to my grandfather’s funeral, sitting instead at a Good Friday service and weeping uncontrollably for reasons I still don’t understand. I have never cried like that in all my life. To this day, hearing the the hymn Were You There When They Crucified My Lord? will bring me to my knees.

Maybe it’s all of the above.

I don’t know why, but the gospel accounts on the crucifixion cause me to want to write poetry and speak eloquently — not talk about history.

Captivating. Thundering. Deep. Moving. Profound. Disturbing. Soothing.

These are all words that only begin to scratch the surface of what I experience on Good Friday every year, in a story that speaks volumes into my heart with words I don’t fully understand.

There are moments when I see the order of death tap out in submission to something more profound than defeat could ever be.

There are moments when I feel as though God has joined us in all of our sorrow and it is so good to have His company.

There are moments when I sense the greatest statement of love that could ever be expressed, and the truly unique, counterintuitive story of a God who would lay down His life for others.

There are moments of anger when I see the injustice and confusion at why the death is necessary…

Which leads me to thoughts about atonement and how I am so thankful that so many theologians are asking such important questions about what the Bible actually teaches on atonement. These questions are important because they reach to the core of our understanding of the heart of God. Why would He die? Why would He have to die? Did He have to die? How is any of this explained logically?

These questions are important, because as I sit in those Good Friday services, I need to understand what I am witnessing and remembering.

What am I supposed to see at the cross?

While I won’t be writing about my thoughts on atonement theory, I would recommend a couple books by Tony Jones; one is A Better Atonement, a fantastic e-book that is only three chapters long. While I have not read the other book, I do know that I am greatly looking forward to Did God Kill Jesus? There is a great conversation in theological circles these days about an appropriate understanding of atonement. How did the early Christians understand Jesus’s death on the cross (Ransom-Captive Theory)? How has atonement theory evolved over time (theories like Christus Victor)? What are the dangers we find in Substitutionary Atonment (the theory held by most evangelicals today)?

Wrestling with what I believe the Scriptures teach about atonement has done nothing but help me in being captivated by the story of the cross. It has only heightened my awareness of some of the feelings, emotions, and images that surround the crucifixion.

Needless to say, I will not be attacking the Text from the same angle as I have been through this series. I don’t like dealing with the story that way. What I will be doing is taking a look at some of the aspects of the story from an independent reference point. Here is what I hope to write about:

HOLY WEEK: The Plot to Kill Jesus

HOLY WEEK: Judas

HOLY WEEK: Peter’s Denial

HOLY WEEK: Rome

Then we’ll have a discussion on the Resurrection (where I will indeed wax eloquent) and some thoughts about The Great Commission before we dive into the book of Acts.

My prayer is that the story of the cross is as meaningful of an experience to you as it is to me — that it would speak on levels my words simply never could.