Standing

At this point in the book of Acts, there is something that needs to be addressed. It won’t be a deep textual observation or Jewish hermeneutics. But it is one of the most profound truths I have experienced during my studies in the land of Israel and Turkey.

It doesn’t take long as you read the book of Acts to find that these early believers are taking an awful lot of heat from the world around them. Almost all of the early chapters contain stories of resistance and persecution. The most significant source of persecution seems to come from their own religious community. Remember, this corrupt Sanhedrin had already executed their leader; to continue to push this movement forward publicly is an incredible decision full of risk and danger for their own lives. But they do push forward. What strikes me as so significant is the manner in which they follow their rabbi.

Their rabbi had taught them how to do this. Back in the sermon on the mount, Jesus had given a teaching about responding to injustice. He told them that if they were struck on the right cheek to the turn the other. If they were sued for their outer cloak (tallit) they were to give their accuser the undergarments (haluk) as well. And if a soldier demanded they carry packs, they were to carry them an extra mile.

Many people hear Jesus’s words as purely pacifistic, but that’s not entirely true to context. When Jesus talks about the cheek being struck, he specifies the right cheek. In a world where all personal interaction is engaged with the right hand, to be struck on the right cheek would be a backhanded action. This was a demeaning strike meant for slaves and people of lower class. If you were struck on the left cheek, it would be with a fist. Jesus is telling his listeners that if they are treated like a lesser human being, they are to respond not with violence, but with a public display that shows the injustice for what it is. He is telling them to confront injustice by shining light in dark places.

“You just hit me like I am a piece of property. If you want to hit me, you can hit me like the human being I am.”

It’s not pacifism; but it’s not redemptive violence, either.

The same is true for the following examples. To sue someone for their cloak is incredibly unjust and breaks commands found in Deuteronomy. If someone wants to wrong you to that extent, Jesus says, just give them everything and stand naked before them — showing the injustice for what it is. A soldier was allowed by law to make you carry their pack for one mile; to demand more was against Roman law. Jesus says, if a solider wants to treat you like garbage, put him in the incredibly awkward position of volunteering to help him break the law.

Jesus’s first followers understood this teaching in a way that we, as twenty-first century American Christians, do not. Time and time again, I run into stories in Turkey of the ancient Church and the first Christians who were martyred for their faith. In the ruins of Heiropolis (close to Colossae and Laodecia) there sits a martyrium for Philip. According to church history, Philip was tortured to death at the city gates when he refused to denounce Christ. They hung him from the gate with a chain through his achilles tendons while they raped and crucified his seven daughters just out of his reach. According to the historian, the daughters died encouraging their father to remain steadfast and not deny Jesus.

In the book of Acts, we keep reading about the persecution of these first believers. Eventually, we run across the story of Stephen, who was stoned to death by the religious authorities. To be clear, the first Christians were not pacifists — they were confronting evil and shining light in dark places. But nor were they going to protect themselves and fight back.

To be clear, the apostles weren’t trying to obtain concealed carry permits. They were not fighting for their rights. They were not sitting around philosophically contemplating what they would do if someone broke into their house and began raping their children. Ask Philip; he lived it.

Now, please hear me, I’m not against concealed carry permits and I enjoy being able to own guns. But not for one moment do I think any of this is how the followers of Jesus went about bringing shalom to chaos. No, time after time, these forefathers of our faith modeled for us what it means to be a city on a hill and show what radical forgiveness looks like, because in the reality of the Kingdom of God, forgiveness has to win the day — not revenge, not self-preservation.

When John’s disciple Polycarp was brought to the arena in Smyrna, the soldier asked him to denounce Christ. In the famous story, Polycarp recounts how Christ has never let him down, so why would he repay such kindness with denial? As they begin to arrange the wood and nail him to the stake, Polycarp instructs them to stop, telling them that God will give him the perseverance to stand in the flames without being fastened. The soldiers lit the wood on fire and Polycarp was burned at the stake.

Philip and Polycarp were made out of the same stuff as people like Stephen.

Stephen did not start slinging stones back at his accusers in self-defense. Stephen was too busy praying that God would forgive them in their ignorance. Go ahead and read it in the Text (Acts 7).

One of the things I find so striking about the story of Stephen is found at the end of his life. As Stephen is being stoned to death, the Text tells us he looks up into heaven and says he can see the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God. Initially, that’s not an odd image; there are numerous places throughout the Scripture where you can find the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of God.

What is striking is that Jesus isn’t sitting. Jesus is standing.

This is the only place where Jesus is ever pictured standing at the right hand of God. While it’s possible I might be reading too much into this story, I see this as a picture of Jesus paying tribute to the first of his disciples who will take seriously the command to pick up their execution device and follow their rabbi.

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: 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?

Statement of Triumph

Matthew 21 opens with one of the records of the Triumphal Entry. We’re familiar with the images of the story and we often reenact different elements during our Palm Sunday celebrations. We know the picture of Jesus making his entrance on a donkey while people wave palm branches and shout “Hosanna!”

But a little historical context will go a long way. Jesus enters Jerusalem on the week of Passover (possibly even “Lamb Selection Day”); this week is significant because of the tension of Palestine in the Roman world. This particular region was always one of the tensest areas the Romans had to control. It was the home of the only group of people who refused to worship the emperor. This band of rebels was stubborn, stiff-necked, and naïve.

The region was one of the hardest to govern because of this headache for the Romans. You might remember Herod giving this region to his son Archelaus who didn’t last but for a breath as ruler of the region. The ruler would have to be tough, a bulldog who knew how to collect the necessary taxes and maintain peace. Immediately after the failure of Archelaus as ruler, the Romans sent in their own guy. History knows him as Pontius Pilate. 

Now Pilate did not live in Jerusalem; Israel’s “holy city” would not be the place for a dignified Roman ruler. No, Pilate made his home in Caesarea, the immaculate city of Herod the Great, built to honor the emperor. However, the week of Passover was incredibly tense. More than a million Jews would gather in the city to celebrate a feast that remembered their deliverance from the world’s greatest superpower. The last thing Rome wanted was to let this band of rebels get all riled up after a four-glasses-of-wine party and start a revolt. 

And so every year, Pilate would head south from Caesarea to Joppa and then east to Jerusalem, entering the city from the west. He would travel with great pomp and a show of force. Soldiers, trumpeters, banners, heralds, pronouncements — and Pilate riding on a white stallion that symbolizes military conquest. You could have heard him coming from miles away. The message he wanted to send to the Jews was clear: “Don’t even think about it. Keep everything under control or Rome will crush you.”

And Pilate would stay at Herod’s palace in Jerusalem until the festivities died down.

Meanwhile, on the same week (possibly even the same day), a humble Jewish rabbi rides into Jerusalem from the east with his ragtag bunch of reject disciples.

This is the picture of two kingdoms about to collide.

Pilate on his stallion; Jesus on his donkey.

Pilate with his solders; Jesus with his talmidim.

Pilate instilling fear; Jesus pronouncing favor.

Pilate and his chaos; Jesus with his order.

Pilate with his Empire; Jesus with his Shalom.

This ultimate showdown does not go unnoticed by the Jewish people gathered there on the east side of Jerusalem. The moment Jesus jumps on a donkey, each one of them recognizes the clear connection to Zechariah, a discussion we had last year.

And so the people grab palm branches (see the account in John) and begin waving them. Why palm fronds? Because the prophecy of Zechariah ends with the vision of all nations celebrating Sukkot in Jerusalem — and Sukkot is where you wave your palm fronds. 

And they begin shouting “Hosanna!” which is Hebrew for “Lord, save us!” Why do they shout this? Because the great hymn that you sing at Sukkot is Psalm 118:

     LORD, save us!
         LORD, grant us success!

     Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD.
         From the house of the LORD we bless you.
     The LORD is God,
         and he has made his light shine on us.
     With boughs in hand, join in the festal procession
         up to the horns of the altar.

     You are my God, and I will praise you;
         you are my God, and I will exalt you.

     Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;
         his love endures forever.

Because of these passages, the palm frond had become the symbol of the Zealot party and of political revolution. According to Roman history, shaking a palm frond in public was a crucifiable offense.

The people are calling out for a revolution. They see the statement Jesus is making about kingship and they are ready for their king! They give him their support and their praise.

And Jesus cries.

We know from the other accounts that Jesus will look over Jerusalem and he will cry, saying, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem! If only you knew what would bring you peace.”

They had forgotten part of the prophecy in Zechariah:

     Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!

         Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!

     See, your king comes to you,

         righteous and victorious,

     lowly and riding on a donkey,

         on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

     I will take away the chariots from Ephraim

         and the warhorses from Jerusalem,

         and the battle bow will be broken.

     He will proclaim peace to the nations.

         His rule will extend from sea to sea

         and from the River to the ends of the earth.

And I’ve always been amazed that every year, we hand our children palm fronds and have them reenact the very scene that made our Savior weep.

But this isn’t what actually haunts me. I’m sure Jesus is able to see the statement we are making with our hearts as we sing the words “Hosanna!” in spite of ourselves. I think he accepts the worship we are offering.

What haunts me is the question of which kingdom I really want.

I say I want the Kingdom of God, but I’m not sure I’m willing to pay the price. I say I love forgiveness, but there are far too many days where I find myself on the side of the road, clutching a palm frond and shouting for a revolution that comes with my kind of power and my kind of might. 

And I think we need to ask some questions, because I think our political agendas and methods would make Jesus weep. I think our thirst for power, influence, and a particular kind of security would cause Jesus to lament over our cities and our country. I think far too much of our American culture has us standing at the west side of Jerusalem, not the east.

What’s interesting is that in two of the accounts, we are told there are two donkeys, which is interesting because Jesus only rides one. And while this might be an effort to make the account line up with the prophecy of Zechariah, Jewish literature and teaching will often employ this tool as they tell stories. You may remember that Matthew has two demon-possessed men in the Decapolis; he also has two blind men receiving their healing. The rabbis tell us that a teacher will often insert an additional character into the story as a way of inviting you into a moment of decision.

In the story of the two blind men and demoniacs, you are being invited into the story. If you were the other demoniac, what would you do?

There are two donkeys in the Triumphal Entry.

Jesus rides into Jerusalem, not to conquer, but to die. He rides in to bring true peace that might last for an eternity, not a political peace that will last only for now. He rides in to restore relationships and reconcile all things, not to establish a country club.

As you watch Jesus tearfully ride to his death, you see him glance over his shoulder at the riderless donkey and you are faced with a question: Which kingdom do you really want?

He invites you to ride with him into a Kingdom that is built on different values.

An Explosive Kingdom Realized

However, don’t be deceived into thinking that Jesus is particularly fond of putting John the Baptist in his place. He is not. He turns to the crowds and appears to be a little riled up after His interaction with John’s disciples. While John’s disciples are leaving (making the reader think that they still might be within earshot), Jesus begins quite the monologue:

As John’s disciples were leaving, Jesus began to speak to the crowd about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind? If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings’ palaces. Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written:

“ ‘I will send my messenger ahead of you,
    who will prepare your way before you.’

Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet whoever is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

That would be a pretty good epitaph to have on your tombstone. Jesus is far from dissing a cousin, a good friend, and a possible rabbi. But then, Jesus offers a teaching confounding many Bible students to this day:

From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it. For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John. And if you are willing to accept it, he is the Elijah who was to come. Whoever has ears, let them hear.

Violently advancing? Violent men take hold of it? I thought the kingdom of God was like a mustard seed and we were on a mission to love our enemies, be on a mission of mercy, and offer forgiveness. Violent men?

While the Greek is translated correctly here, some context will be rather helpful. The Greek word that is used here is biastes. It is used in the Septuagint to translate the Hebrew word pratz. There was a young Hebrew boy in the Old Testament who was named after pratz; we translate his name “Perez.” Perez was one of the sons of Judah and Tamar. You may remember the story (found in Genesis 38) where Tamar becomes pregnant with twins. As the first son begins to emerge, they tie a red cord around his wrist; the marked wrist disappears back into the womb and the second twin “explodes” out of the womb ahead of the other. They named him “Exploder” or Perez.

This is one case where I believe we find evidence that Matthew was written in Hebrew. If this passage was contracted from Hebrew, the word here would be pratz. This would mean that an appropriate understanding of this teaching would be that the kingdom has been “exploding” and “explosive” men take hold of it.

It’s a nice theory, Marty, but you don’t get to arbitrarily make decisions about translation.

No, but there’s more evidence in the Text. Jesus says that people who have ears should hear — a rabbinical clue that Jesus has buried something from the Text in His teaching. He says that John is the “Elijah who was to come.” One of the main passages that speaks of this “Elijah to come” was found in the prophesy of Micah. This is especially interesting, since Jesus just finished teaching on Micah earlier. The prophesy reads like this:

“I will surely gather all of you, Jacob;
    I will surely bring together the remnant of Israel.
I will bring them together like sheep in a pen,
    like a flock in its pasture;
    the place will throng with people.
The One who breaks open the way will go up before them;
    they will break through the gate and go out.
Their King will pass through before them,
    the Lord at their head.”

God speaks of gathering His people together who have been penned up in captivity. A gathered flock of sheep that have been penned up in a sheepfold for some time are a real antsy bunch. Some of us may have experienced letting a herd of cattle out into pasture after a long haul or a season in another overgrazed pasture. The “one who breaks open the way” could easily be read in the Hebrew as NOT the same person as the King/LORD mentioned later. In this picture, the “Elijah to come” will be the character who kicks open the gate of the sheepfold. The gate “breaks open” and the sheep “break through” the gate.

The word for “break open” and “break through”? Pratz.

The kingdom is EXPLODING FORWARD and EXPLOSIVE MEN take hold of it. Jesus casts the vision of God’s people in His day like a flock of sheep in a sheepfold. “From the days of John the Baptist until now…” John has come to kick open the gate of the sheepfold and ever since he started his ministry, people who have been waiting for the kingdom have been breaking forth — exploding forward — to do God’s will.

It leads to an observation that the Kingdom isn’t something we sit back and contemplate intellectually in a classroom (although there is a time and place for that). The kingdom is something that is explosive and it’s something that explosive people take part in. We don’t lazily strut through the gates of the kingdom. We don’t prance into the way of God. It’s something that we should be champing at the bit to take part in, just waiting for the opportunity to rush out into the open fields.

It’s an explosive kingdom. Am I an explosive participant?

Innocent as Doves

A few stories later, Jesus prepares to send His disciples out on a little missional field trip. While we already addressed this in a previous post, it’s worth noting again the list of the disciples and the different worldviews that are represented in the list. Wouldn’t you like to have known how Jesus grouped these guys up? Did He send them out with like-minded individuals, good friends who would provide great fellowship and perspective, knowing that upon their return the debrief session would be full of fireworks? Or did He pair them up with people they completely disagreed with? I wish we knew.

These twelve Jesus sent out, instructing them, “Go nowhere among the Gentiles and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And proclaim as you go, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons. You received without paying; give without pay. Acquire no gold or silver or copper for your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics or sandals or a staff, for the laborer deserves his food. And whatever town or village you enter, find out who is worthy in it and stay there until you depart.”

Jesus puts this little ministry trip at the mercy of the people’s hospitality. It should be noted that Jesus did not send them to the pagans, the Gentiles who serve the gods of Hellenism. He sent them to the religious folk — the people who claim to have it all together and represent God well. The disciples will have to depend on others “getting it” and being there for them during this time.

“As you enter the house, greet it. And if the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it, but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town. Truly, I say to you, it will be more bearable on the day of judgment for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah than for that town.”

Notice again the harkening back to Sodom and Gomorrah, a story about failed hospitality and Jesus’s affirmation of what the gospel is all about: bringing shalom to the chaos. He tells them to find a house that is worthy — in Luke, this is more literally “a person of peace” — and hunker down for a bit with them and their hospitality. He tells them to helps those cities and towns and explain the good news of the Kingdom of Heaven. They are to bolster the work of God in places where it’s already taking place.

This isn’t a message of new teaching or fiery prophesy. This is a mission of finding where God is already at work and joining Him. Their mission is to come alongside and call out the Kingdom wherever they find it. This is a time where Jesus is teaching them how to have eyes to see the Kingdom of God at work in people. And they are to take good notes; it will be an incredible learning experience.

Jesus tells them that it will not be easy, as there are plenty of religious people who want no part in God’s redemptive project:

“Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Beware of men, for they will deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues, and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles. When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. … A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more will they malign those of his household.”

And then Jesus shifts gears in a way that leaves many readers completely confused. He tells the disciples that He has come to bring division and not peace. He quotes a passage from Micah and then tells them they will need to “take up their cross.” The passage is quite confusing, as it seems to run counter to the other teachings of Jesus; it is “Zealot-minded.”

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person’s enemies will be those of his own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

Hopefully by now in our series, you have begun to ask the repetitive and redundant question: Where is it in the Text? Especially when the Text is easily placed for our western eyes to see (in this case, a direct quote), we should travel back to the original source of the quotation and find out what the rabbi is trying to teach by quoting that particular passage.

(When I asked my students what we should read, they all gave a resounding response of, “The context!”; my favorite response was, “The whole prophesy of Micah!” Yes!)

When we travel back to Micah, we find the prophet is calling the people of Judah to realize that God is asking for them to repent. They happen to know what it is God requires of them: pursuing justice, loving mercy, and having a posture of humility. The prophesy goes on to describe what it is like in Micah’s day. It’s a day where nobody can trust their neighbor and everybody is pursuing their own good. It’s a day when even a person’s family members will betray each other and division will run rampant.

The section ends with this:

But as for me, I will look to the Lord;
    I will wait for the God of my salvation;
    my God will hear me.

It happens to be the perfect quotation for what the disciples are embarking upon. They are going to find a world where some people are ready to show hospitality, but others will not. There will be people who fit the description found in Micah incredibly well. The Kingdom of God is not going to sit well with everyone and they are going to be persecuted. But the rabbinical remez for this teaching would be an invitation for them to trust the story. They are invited to wait on God and trust in His provision.

As we go, will we do the same thing? Will we be on the lookout for “people of peace” who are interested in taking God’s kingdom of peace into the chaos? Will we partner with them to celebrate the Kingdom at work?

Will we be ready for persecution? Will we be prepared for all of the religious folk who are not ready for such a priority shift? Will we leave it up to God and wait on His provision?

Will we trust the story?

The Forgiveness of Abel

Jesus returns to the Triangle and begins teaching in a house. The home is so jam-packed with students that when a group of buddies come carrying their friend on a stretcher, they cannot enter the home. They proceed to climb to the roof of the insula and begin tearing through it. Now, in this culture, tearing through the roof is quite an ordeal; it’s going to take you many minutes, if not hours, to work up a sizable hole. This is a roof consisting of multiple layers of branches covered in mud, with more branches and more mud.

Keeping this in mind, it’s interesting to note the difference in cultures. In our world, upon seeing the determination of this group of do-gooders, we would stop the teaching, call them to come down (before they ruin someone’s home), and make space. But, in beautiful rabbinic fashion, this is not how the situation proceeds. We are not told the details, but you can imagine Jesus stops teaching, takes a seat, stares up at the hole appearing above Him, and crosses His arms with a look of, “Oh, this will be good!” Or does he keep teaching as dirt and other pieces of roof fall on His head?

Eventually, the paralyzed man is lowered through the roof and Jesus, having had time to think about His response, declares to the man that his sins are forgiven. Another fun detail to notice in the Text is that it says Jesus saw the faith of his friends. Does this intentionally suggest the man had no faith? It’s hard to say. But if he was struggling with faith, it wasn’t helped by the Rabbi talking about his sins. 

“Yes, thank you, Rabbi. I was obviously lowered through the roof to have my sins forgiven. Don’t mind my paralysis; it’s no big deal.”

But Jesus, as any Rabbi, is more concerned with His teaching point than His miracle. The miracle is a tool and the man is a prop for Jesus’s greater point. I don’t say this to be cold, as if Jesus was lacking in compassion; we are told quite the opposite multiple times in the gospels. Jesus is a very compassionate teacher, but the rabbinical method is about teaching the Text, and Jesus is going to do that through this paralyzed man.

I believe this teaching gives us a window into what Jesus’s lesson was about that day in the house. I think Jesus was talking about forgiveness.

As we’ve mentioned multiple times already, forgiveness was a tough conversation for Jews of the first century. They sat under the oppressive rule of Rome and were wrestling with the big questions of injustice.

Okay, it’s one thing to go to captivity because of disobedience; Babylon was understandable. But now, we are trying to do the right thing and God is not rescuing us from the Romans. Why? How can God let this happen?

And so the Jews looked for answers where they always look for answers: in the Text. They asked themselves, who was the first person in the Scriptures to suffer injustice for doing what was right? The answer: Abel.

Abel, the son of Adam. In Hebrew: Avel ben Adam.

But Adam is more than just a name. Adam in Hebrew also means “mankind.” So to be the “son of Adam” also means to be the son of man.

And the Jews said, “God has spoken to us about a Son of Man before! He told us in Daniel that the Son of Man will come riding on the clouds!”

And the belief began that Abel would come back and avenge the injustice of the ages. (How literal that belief was is the wrong question to ask.) Abel would avenge his blood, right the wrongs of the world, and bring shalom back to the chaos. Abel would be the fulfillment of the prophesy of Daniel.

Jesus’s words are stunning if this happens to be the context of His conversation that day in the house:

But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, “Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic—“Rise, pick up your bed and go home.”

And Jesus says that, in fact, Abel might come back and forgive the sin of Cain.

That’s scandalous.

I was told by my teacher that Jesus is the only Jewish teacher in recorded history (before His day and since) ever to suggest that Abel will forgive the sin of Cain.

Not only that, but Jesus is facing the accusation of doing what they believed only God could do. There are only two figures who can forgive sins; one is God Himself, and the other is the High Priest, who has to be very careful about doing so without God’s blessing. It’s something that is done very rarely. But I think Jesus’s lesson that day was His continued invitation to join God in His pursuit of forgiveness.

If we’re going to put the world back together, we are going to have to partner with God to show mercy to those who don’t deserve it. And they don’t buy it. “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” they ask.

And Jesus puts a stamp of authority on His teaching by causing the paralytic to rise and walk. Jesus’s claim that Abel would forgive sins, Jesus’s invitation to join God in His redemptive work, His insistence that this is, in fact, what God asks of us — has the final exclamation point of a paralyzed man rising to his feet, dusting off his mat, and walking out of the house.

BOOM!

And the last line of Matthew’s account?

When the crowds saw it, they were afraid, and they glorified God, who had given such authority to men.

Authority to men. Authority to forgive sins. Authority to set people free.

Which is easier? To say to a man, “Your sins are forgiven,” or to make him walk? Luckily, it’s easier to forgive, because it’s been a while since I last healed a paralytic.