Each One

**  This teaching was heavily influenced by my time with Ray VanderLaan.

Of course, stories like the last one ARE the exception, and the writer of Acts is quick to make that point. The very next record in Acts 5 (vv. 12–16) goes on to record the miraculous signs the apostles were performing:

The apostles performed many signs and wonders among the people. And all the believers used to meet together in Solomon’s Colonnade. No one else dared join them, even though they were highly regarded by the people. Nevertheless, more and more men and women believed in the Lord and were added to their number. As a result, people brought the sick into the streets and laid them on beds and mats so that at least Peter’s shadow might fall on some of them as he passed by. Crowds gathered also from the towns around Jerusalem, bringing their sick and those tormented by impure spirits, and all of them were healed.

It seems like a simple enough passage, an innocent record of the things the followers of Jesus were engaged in. Of course, a skeptical reader might find this record a little dubious. In fact, if one takes a second look at the passage, they too might feel as though the details are a little over the top. Is this really what happened? Does the writer of Acts really need to tell the story this way? It seems like the record of some cheap magic tricks.

People are bringing the sick into the streets so shadows might fall on them?

I mean, even Jesus didn’t seem to go around doing miracles with this level of Jedi mastery. The picture that’s given seems to be one where the disciples are wandering through Jerusalem, minding their own business, and their shadows are magically healing people like a moving relic.

It seems, just as it used to appear in Genesis and all throughout our study, like I have some problems in the Text where the author is begging me to look again and start digging. It isn’t quite right, like there are details in the story that don’t need to be there. Peter’s shadow? Why Peter’s shadow? Is he the lead magician who has more supernatural powers than the others? And why do the details to push up against the boundaries of our common sense? Is there more going on here?

Well, let’s head out on a brief tangent about the messiah.

One of the areas where New Testament Christianity seems to have a misunderstanding of Judaism is the realm of the messiah. First, as we’ve pointed out in other places in this series, the prophecies we often associate with “messianic prophecies” are often not primarily messianic at all; they could (and often should!) be interpreted in a multitude of ways. Second, the Jewish faith is, generally speaking, not looking for a messiah in the sense that we understand messiah or talk about Jesus. In most of Jewish history, the idea of one messianic character who would come and rescue the Jewish people was not a prevalent idea and was often considered quite fringe and fundamentalist.

During the first century, this idea of a messiah was much more prevalent than it was at almost any other time in Jewish history. The writing of the book of Daniel and its commentary on the Roman Empire was certainly a major discussion in the rabbinical circles, but it’s worth noting they often didn’t interact with the idea of messiah in the way we think they did. As a side note, we should also remind ourselves that the concept of the messiah being God in the flesh simply did not exist at this point in Jewish history. They were not expecting the arrival of God in human form, and the idea of the Incarnation is still considered blasphemous on a lot of levels. (This is not to suggest that it is wrong at all; I have a deep love for the doctrine of the Incarnation. I simply find it helpful to remind myself that the Jewish people were not looking for the arrival of God in the flesh.)

Even in the discussions we’ve had surrounding the “Son of Man” and the coming of Righteous Abel or the judgment of Elijah, there was much discussion about whether these people would be literal persons or symbolic of other leaders. The eyes of the Jewish faith were not fixed on the coming of a person so much as the coming of an age. This was much more of a concern than the arrival of just one person; if there was going to be a person, he/she was simply going to help usher in the age. But the era of the olam haba and the “age to come” was the point. The messiah figure would simply be a passing detail.

Passages all throughout the Tanakh spoke of how the world would be in the age to come. For example, Isaiah 32:

See, a king will reign in righteousness    and rulers will rule with justice.Each one will be like a shelter from the wind    and a refuge from the storm,like streams of water in the desert    and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land.

This passage speaks of a day when all things will be made right, when things will be as they ought to be. If you look at the passage closely (even in the Hebrew), you will notice a few things. First, there is a king (singular) who will reign in righteousness. Second, there will be rulers (plural) who will rule in justice…

Wait… plural?

WE are the rulers. It is not the messiah in this prophecy who offers shelter and shade, refuge from the storm, and water in a dry desert. No, but each one (ref. “rulers”) will be a shelter from the wind. Each one will be a refuge from the storm. Each one will be a stream of water in the desert. Each one will be shade in a thirsty land.

I have a friend who is a Rabbi and a shop-owner in Jerusalem. His name is Moshe. Whenever you ask Moshe questions about Messiah, he will very lovingly remind you that he’s not looking for a messiah. But he will also admit that he could be wrong — he might have missed him/her. But he will say in his brilliant Jewish tenor, “But the Scriptures tell me what it will be like! If Messiah is here, there should be the healing of the nations! If Messiah is here, there should be peace brought to chaos! If Messiah is here, then the Kingdom of God should be here! Where is it? WHERE IS IT!? I don’t see it! So how could Messiah have come?”

Sometimes I think we get so hung up on trying to prove Jesus fulfilled prophecy that we forget there is prophecy left for YOU AND I to fulfill.

And the writer of the book of Acts knows this. We said earlier the book of Acts is like the epilogue to the narrative of God where we see the people of God grasp their calling to bring the Kingdom of God crashing into earth — to make the will of God done on earth as it is in heaven.

And so the writer speaks in very poetic words of the people bringing the sick into the streets so that even Peter’s shadow might fall on them.

Why? Because Isaiah 32 is being fulfilled. Because the people of God are ushering in the messianic age. Because olam haba has come, “rulers are ruling with mishpat,” and they are setting things right. Jesus has brought a whole new reality and announced that the Kingdom of God is, in fact, right under our noses and we have been invited to partner with God in making the world right.

And the sick and the marginalized are longing to sit in their shade, to find refuge from their storms, and to drink water in a parched desert.

“Why Peter’s shadow?” we had asked.

Well, with tongue-in-cheek, I see Luke mouthing the words to Isaiah 32 as he records Acts 5:

“…and the shadow of a great rock…”

“I will call you Peter (petros; ‘rock, stone’),” Jesus had said, “and on this rock I will build my church.”

May we take up the call to fulfill prophecy and be a kingdom of priests who remind the world the Kingdom of God has arrived.

Really?!

Acts 5 brings us to one of the most disturbing stories in the account of Acts. It’s the story of Ananias and Sapphira and what appears to be a moment where God breaks out of character and loses His mind. I’ll admit that this story is disturbing to me, as well, and I feel as though it should be. (I would direct you back to some of the tension I felt in the story of the conquest; much of it is true here, too.)

And again, there are a few things that make me pause to be sure I’m stripping my assumptions out of my approach to the story. What does the Text say and what does it NOT say? For example, God’s voice is strangely silent in this story, while Peter does an awful lot of talking. While I’m not necessarily suggesting Peter is out of line or out of God’s will in his actions, it does seem strangely reminiscent of the story of Elijah and the chutzpah he demonstrates in his declaration that it won’t rain.

But such a suggestion may be a stretch, so let’s assume God is in fact behind the words of Peter’s condemnation. It would be wise of us to notice this isn’t the first time we’ve seen an action like this in the narrative of God.

Of course, it would also be wise to notice these stories are so out of character for God that it causes us to ask serious questions. This is not the default posture of God toward His people. When stories like these show up, they remind us it is by far the exception and not the rule. They also remind us God is not a character interested in fitting into any of our tight and tidy boxes we’ve created for Him.

I can count the stories that come to mind on one hand. I think of names like Nadab, Abihu, and Uzzah as examples. Let’s deal with a few of these. If this is not the default posture of God and such an exception to the rule, then why the exception? Hearing stories like these causes the reader to throw up their hands and cry, “Really?! Doesn’t that seem like a bit much?”

One of the first stories like this we run into is an odd story in the book of Leviticus (chapter 10) where two of Aaron’s sons try to offer “common” fire before the LORD. (This is the correct Hebrew translation; many translations of the Text will use “profane” here, and then translate the same Hebrew word as “common” only a few verses later.) Apparently the issue is Nadab and Abihu were not doing the work of discerning the “common” from the “holy” — the secular from the sacred. This is one of the first lessons God is trying to teach His brand new priests. Nadab and Abihu fail to take things seriously and God responds by setting a standard.

The entire mission of God will depend on His priests being able to teach the larger “kingdom of priests” (Israel) how to discern light from darkness in the world around them. If they fail to learn this lesson — if the story of God is corrupted before it even gets off the ground…

And that seems to be the crux of these stories. God’s reactions, which seem so out of character, come because these are critical moments in the history of His people. If the mission is lost before the first step is even taken, the result will not be the redemption of the world and restoration of mishpat, but continued disorder and chaos.

The next story is found in Numbers 15. After the story of the Golden Calf, the giving of the Law at Sinai, and the construction of the Tabernacle (which was a mobile reminder of the creation/Sabbath story), one of the first stories we are told is of a nameless character who refuses to observe the Sabbath. The community brings in the offender, not knowing how to handle the offense, and God hands down a judgment of capital punishment. Again, at a critical juncture for His people, God is serious about this Sabbath business. He’s setting a standard of holiness.

Again, later in the story, after the conquest of the city of Jericho, Achan and his family are stoned to death after refusing to follow the instructions of total dedication to the LORD. And again, the story comes at the beginning of a critical chapter in the history of God’s people.

In the book of Acts, I see the story of Ananias and Sapphira mirroring those stories in big ways.

As in the story of Nadab and Abihu, God just built a new Temple (the people of God).

As in the story of the Sabbath-breaker of Numbers 15, God just put the law in the hearts of His people in a Pentecost story that retold the story of Sinai.

As in the story of Achan, God is leading His people into a completely new kind of conquest.

And in come priests who don’t want to take it seriously. Here come people who aren’t going to tell the truth about the promises of God. They say they want to give it all to God, but they hide some of what’s rightfully His under their tents.

I guess I’m not really sure how to end this post. I have no eloquent line to make this all seem poetic.

But I do think we dabble in the mission of God. I think the curse of our brand of American Christianity is that we like to say one thing, while we do another. And I’m glad that in my life, I haven’t experienced the exception of the rule, because I certainly know I’m guilty of these offenses myself.

I want to realize God takes His mission to put the world back together very seriously. May God have the mercy to continue to teach us where we need to grow up and burn away the garbage in our hearts. May we be coachable students who have wide eyes, sitting on the edge of our chairs with attentive humility, ready to learn with a reverent awe for the work of God.

Far too often, I’ve been the slouching student in the back of the room staring at the clock.

Uncut Corners

One of the next stories we run into is the story of Pentecost. There are so many tantalizing aspects to this story when seen through the Text. Let’s pull out a couple of them.

First, the setting.

The story of Pentecost is set within the biblical festival of Shavuot. Shavuot (the Festival of Weeks) is the celebration of the harvest (more on that in a moment) and the giving of Torah on Mt. Sinai. When the Jews did the math of the Exodus story, they came to the conclusion that if the Israelites left Egypt on Passover, arrived at Sinai ten days later, and Moses spent forty days with God in the cloud, then the giving of the Law would fall on Shavuot — so they celebrated the giving of the Law at the Temple that day. If you go back and review the details of the story of Mt. Sinai, however, you will find some striking similarities between the story of Pentecost and the story of Moses and the Law.

In both stories, you have the people coming to the Mountain of the LORD (Sinai/Zion). In both stories, there is thunder/tongues (in Hebrew, the word for “thunder” in Exodus 19 is also the word for “tongues”). In both stories, God is going to establish His temple: the Tabernacle in Exodus and the temple of His people (made of “living stones,” as Peter will tell us) in the book of Acts. In the Exodus, fire will come out from the temple and consume the sacrifice as God dwells in the Tabernacle; in Acts, God’s fire will come out and settle on people as God takes up residence in a new temple.

In Exodus, Moses will come down the mountain with a message from God and find the people in sin at the Golden Calf. We are told Moses will sanction the slaughter of about 3000 people. Peter stands on the steps of Mt. Zion with a message from God and the people will find themselves pierced. And about how many were saved that day?

3000.

It’s in the Text! The story of Pentecost is the redemption of the Golden Calf story. Brilliant.

Second, the content of the celebration.

Not only are the Jews celebrating the giving of the Law, but biblically, the festival is put in place to celebrate the wheat harvest. In the biblical world, there are two harvests each spring. The barley harvest comes first; barley is often referred to as the “poor man’s grain,” with barley loaves being the bread for the commoner. The second harvest is wheat; this grain is much more desirable and fine than that of barley. In the biblical calendar year, God told you to celebrate the Festival of Firstfruits with the barley harvest. You would bring the first of the barley harvest and remember how God brought you into the Promised Land.

Then, fifty days later, God told you to bring “an offering in proportion to how the LORD has blessed you” for the festival of Shavuot. Not only this, but you were commanded not to cut the corners of your field during the wheat harvest, leaving it for the alien, the orphan, and the widow. What I love about that is God tells you to offer your best to those in need — even after you offer a gift to the LORD in proportion to His incredible blessing on you.

My teacher used to jump up and down and say, “If there are no uncut corners in your celebration of Jesus, you are not Pentecostal — I don’t care how many of you are speaking in tongues!” In the Jewish mind, it’s not Shavuot unless those in need are blessed. How does the story in Acts end?

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

They had true Pentecost. Not only this, but the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus play into this story, as well. Jesus dies on Passover, is resurrected on the Festival of Firstfruits (the “firstfruits” even for the poor man), and God saves the greatest harvest — the fine and desirable harvest of the wheat — to be the fragrant generosity of His people, partnering with Him to put the world back together.

Mmm. Delicious tidbits from the Text. It’s an epilogue of an early church that got it!

As the Jews continued to study the story of Shavuot over the centuries, they began reading the story of Ruth each Shavuot. The book of Ruth is basically written to encompass all of the principles we discussed above. There is the giving of the Law and Ruth reminding Boaz of the covenant he carries and the call he has to take care of the alien, orphan, and widow (of which Ruth is all three). There are the uncut corners she gleans from. We are told she shows up during the barley harvest and gleans through the wheat harvest. And we are confronted over and over again with the generosity of Boaz.

Will this movement of God-followers, set apart for the task of partnering with God on Shavuot, end up providing a home and a welcoming community for the mumzer — the outsider, the foreigner — and seize the call of Abram to be a blessing to all nations?

Will we see an example of a community of people who understand how to partner with God in putting the world back together?

Go

So once the disciples arrive at “the mountain” in the Galilee, we are told the following:

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted.

I love that we are told some of the disciples doubted. Before one of the greatest and final commands Jesus gives in his early ministry, we are told there are still those who doubt. And Jesus commissions them anyway. He does not separate the sheep from the goats for the great commission. He does not put the doubters in one pile and the believers in another.

Apparently doubt is acceptable for commissioned disciple-makers of Jesus.

That’s good news, because I have some great moments of wrestling, don’t you? It’s okay to admit it. Nobody is listening (although you may look quite odd to your coworker if you are talking to your computer).

Jesus tells them:

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Now, let’s unpack this piece by piece. In fact, let’s do it backwards.

Teach them. Jesus wants his followers to be teachers. One of our jobs is to open our eyes and assist others in opening their eyes to the truth and reality of God’s story all around them. We aren’t to bring them to some holy place where they can see God — no, we are to help them see God everywhere. We are to teach them about God as seen in the person of Jesus Christ. We are to pass on his teachings. As we’ve discussed before, I’m not sure how we will fulfill this command if we do not know his teachings…

Baptize them. If you remember, the act of baptism is an act of repentance. We are inviting people to “return home.” We are inviting them to come back to where God originally created them to be. We are bringing people “good news” about a far better Kingdom than the ones they are accustomed to. We are marking entrance into this Kingdom with a washing — a cleansing. It’s a putting on of a new self and a washing away of the old. This new reality is throwing the lights on for people everywhere, setting them free.

Make disciples. This is the portion that gets me in the most trouble. I say this because I do not believe the great commission is inviting us to make converts. I do not believe Jesus is inviting us here to call people into deeper spiritual formation or mentorship. I do not believe the great commission (specifically) is a call to spiritual growth or maturity. I believe that, like the rest of the Bible, I need to hear this command through the ears of context. The call to make disciples is a call to rabbinical, “Come, follow me” discipleship. It is a call to find people who are willing and able to spend their whole selves becoming like their rabbi. We talked earlier in this series about the process of discipleship, about how a disciple wanted to “know what the rabbi knows, in order to do what the rabbi does, in order to be just like the rabbi in his walk with God.” This is what the call of discipleship is. I would expound on this, but I’m not sure where I would stop. This is one of my greatest passions. I’m not sure why so few are making disciples the way Jesus made disciples; that seems like a recipe of foolishness to me. The call of discipleship is not for everyone, but it should be for someone. This is the reason I got into campus ministry; somebody needs to be finding ways to look at a student and say, “Come, follow me.”

And the best part of this whole thing is that Jesus doesn’t do the normal “rabbi thing.” Typically, rabbis would pass on their authority to at least one or some of their disciples so the story might continue. But we’re listening to a resurrected Jesus talk here. He’s very much alive — and he keeps all the authority for himself.

We are to go and make disciples. We are to make disciples the way Jesus made disciples. We are commissioned in the living authority of Jesus. And when the going gets tough and the mistakes happen and the fear is overwhelming…

…lo, he is with us always. Forever. To the very end of the age.

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…