“Easter was when Hope in person surprised the whole world by coming forward from the future into the present.” *
* Wright, N. T. (2008). Surprised by hope : rethinking heaven, the resurrection, and the mission of the church (1st ed.). HarperOne.
Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid. (Mark 15:47)
Today is Easter Eve which we also call Holy (and sometimes Black) Saturday. On this day, Walter Wangerin suggested this message to Mary Magdalene as she struggled to make sense of the events of the previous couple of days. I want to share it with you all…
Even in your despair, observe the rituals. It is the Sabbath; then let it be the Sabbath after all. Pray your prayers. However hollow and unsatisfying they may feel, God can fill them. God is God, who made the world from nothing—and God as God can still astonish you. He can make of your mouthings a prayer—and of your groanings a hymn. Observe the ritual. Prepare your spices. Return on Sunday, even to this scene of your sorrow, expecting nothing but a corpse, planning nothing but to sigh once more and to pay respects.
One story is done indeed, my Magdalene. You’re right. You’ve entered the dark night of the soul.
But another story—one you cannot conceive of (it’s God who conceives it!)—starts at sunrise. And the empty time between, while sadly you prepare the spices, is in fact preparing you! Soon you will change. Soon you will become that holy conundrum which must baffle and antagonize the world: a saint. Saint Mary Magdalene. “As dying, and behold we live; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things”—that host of contradictions, the beauty of Spirit, the puzzle of all who know him not, the character of the saints!
Come again on Sunday, Mary, and see how it is that God makes saints. Come, follow.
Wangerin Jr., Walter (1992). Reliving the Passion: Meditations on the Suffering, Death, and the Resurrection of Jesus as Recorded in Mark. (p. 152). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.
We tend to love movies with mavericks as main characters. We think of Top Gun and certainly Top Gun Maverick. I remember the television show Maverick, starring James Garner, a maverick’s maverick. As a youngster, I loved watching Garner’s character operate outside accepted cultural norms. I secretly wanted to emulate Maverick, but as a first-born farm kid (with my dad in the room as we watched), I knew that imitating Maverick was out of the question.
Maverick – an unorthodox or independent-minded person
Unbeknownst to most of us, the etymology of maverick is fairly recent, derived from the name of Samuel A. Maverick (1803–70), a mid-19th-century Texas rancher who did not brand his cattle. Thus a secondary definition used mostly in North America: an unbranded calf or yearling.
I wonder if the attraction to mavericks is an opportunity to live vicariously through them. I wonder if deep down we’d all like to be a bit of a maverick now and then, but propriety and societal norms deter us from doing so.
Joseph of Arimathea was no maverick. He was a wealthy, first-century member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling Council of the Jewish people. As the ruling council, the Sanhedrin was comprised of the wealthy and elite. At the time of Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion, the Council had religious, economic, and political power. The common people feared them.
Joseph wasn’t only a member, but likely a member in good standing given that he was considered a “good and upright man” (Luke 23) and a “prominent member” (Mark 15). His reputation was solid. His theology was apparently solid as well as he was waiting for the kingdom of God. He must have had “ears to hear” since he became a disciple of Jesus, though in secret because he feared the other leaders. Not wanting to risk his standing or reputation, Joseph of Arimathea was no maverick.
We also know that he did not consent to the decision and actions of the Council (Luke 23) to be rid of Jesus, though there is no evidence that he spoke out against the rest of the leadership during the “trial.” Then something happened to Joseph. Somehow, sometime between the trial and Jesus’ death, he got a backbone and became a maverick. He was different. He was not the same.
He went to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, with an audacious request. He asked for the body of Jesus so he could honor Him with a proper, pre-sabbath burial. In his newfound maverick-ness, Joesph’s request was audacious beyond imagination.
First, he went against the Council. They likely didn’t care about Jesus enough to follow Jewish tradition regarding burial before sundown, before the beginning of the sabbath of the Passover week. They had relinquished all kosher propriety when they tried Jesus illegally, then partnered with the Romans to silence him. “Let him hang there – we are done with him!”
Secondly, Jesus was executed for high treason. Romans didn’t allow the bodies of treasonous persons to be removed from crosses. They got as much leverage as possible from each crucifixion. Bodies hung for days as a reminder to those in eyesight not to ‘cross’ the Empire. And if a body hung there over the Sabbath? What did they care? Caesar was their deity, not some Jewish god.
Pilate was probably in a pretty bad mood when Joseph, the maverick, made his request. He hadn’t listened to his wife regarding Jesus. He tried to appease and please everyone politically and it backfired. He sent an innocent man to his death and he knew it. The Sanhedrin had manipulated him. They won and he lost. Roman governors weren’t fond of being one-upped by their subjects. What was Rome going to say about this when they found out (and they would)?
Joseph boldly went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body so he could bury it in his own tomb (personal tombs were for family, not criminals). Only the wealthy and elite had their own tombs. When he, a member of the Sanhedrin, went to Pilate, he risked it all. He risked his life – Pilate could have jailed him or even killed him. And he risked his reputation. What would be his fate when the rest of the Council found out what he did. What of his status? His wealth?
But Joseph was changing. Somewhere along his journey, he encountered Jesus. And he began to act like a maverick – a very bold maverick. He walked away from the identity, power, position, and comfort of being a member of the Council. The kingdom-seeker found the kingdom at hand – Jesus.
Encounters with Jesus change us. Always. We will never be the same. We might even become mavericks.
In Western tradition, today, March 28, 2024, is Maundy Thursday. A day of solemnity, Maundy Thursday (also called Holy Thursday) is observed worldwide as part of the Christian Holy or Passion week. We know it to commemorate the last Passover meal that Jesus celebrated with his followers which we call the Last Supper. It’s also the night he was betrayed and arrested.
The word “Maundy” originates from the Latin word mandatum, which means “commandment” (think mandate). Therefore Mandatum, Maundy, is connected to Jesus’ commandment to his disciples on that night to love one another…
A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. (John 13:34-35)
It’s also the night Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. Thus many Christian groups imitate this action by holding a foot-washing rite on Maundy Thursday.
This year I have been traveling through Lent using Walter Wangerin’s Reliving the Passion, an amazing ‘crawl into the story’ treatise of the passion week as recorded in the Gospel of Mark. I have used it off and on over the past 25 years, experiencing new thoughts and emotions each year of its use. This year I was reminded of how Jesus lived out the Lord’s Prayer as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane on that night in which he was betrayed.
Wangerin reminds his readers that Jesus often taught the same thing twice – first with words and then reinforced with actions and deeds. On the same night in which he was betrayed, as we watch Jesus praying alone in the garden, we get a glimpse of the Lord’s Prayer actually lived out. With a deep and desperate desire, Jesus pleaded with his Father, his Abba, to be saved (rescued) and to be spared of what he knew was coming. He was living out, in raw honesty, the sixth petition of the Prayer…
Lead us not into temptation – Save us from this time of trial.
Jesus pleaded not once, not twice, but three times, Remove this cup from me, embodying the plea of the seventh petition of the Prayer…
Deliver us (me!) from evil, from the evil one.
As Jesus pleaded with his Father, he displayed a posture and attitude of faithful and complete obedience saying, Yet not what I will, but what you will. Jesus, living out before our eyes, the third petition, “which prepares us properly for any answer God may give to all [our] other petitions” (Wangerin)…
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Wangerin continued: “Implicit, hereafter, in his entering into ‘the hour’ of trial after all is his personal conviction that ‘the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand.’ Jesus, now more than ever in his ministry, is the living embodiment of the second petition, Thy kingdom come. Right now, his acceptance of the Father’s will is the coming of that kingdom here!”
Thy kingdom come.
Jesus began both prayers addressing God as Father, with the garden prayer showing a deep intimacy – Abba, Father. It’s the expression a child has when her father comes home from work – Daddy!
On this Maundy Thursday, we find ourselves in the midst of ongoing wars, heightened turmoil in the Middle East, global economic uncertainty, doubts about American leadership, and increased political polarization. We struggle for words to articulate our deep, raw, and maybe even desperate feelings. May the Lord’s Prayer(s) be of comfort – especially in light of Jesus’ deep, raw, and desperate prayers in the garden. Maybe during this Holy Week we, too, can learn to live the Prayer. That would be a good thing!
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name;
thy kingdom come;
thy will be done;
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from the evil one.
For thine is the kingdom,
the power and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.
Every couple of weeks I get to meet with two high school seniors. They wanted to deepen their faith and trust in Jesus and invited me to join them in their journey. We decided to work through the gospel of Mark together. As the shortest gospel, we hoped to possibly finish it before their graduation from high school. We just finished chapter nine, so maybe our new goal needs to be by summer’s end.
If you are familiar with Mark’s gospel, you are aware that at about midpoint everything began to change. In fact, I had the guys draw a line after verse thirty of chapter eight. I told them to pay close attention to how Jesus’ teachings would begin to ramp up…
In Mark 8:29, Peter declared Jesus to be the Messiah (which Jesus affirmed). The Messiah! The one sent by God to rescue Israel and put everything right. I can’t imagine the emotions of his disciples knowing that they were on the ground-level of a revolt against the Romans. What kinds of thoughts might have been running through their minds?
Jesus immediately (one of Mark’s favorite words) began to teach them about what was really going to happen. He began by declaring that the Son of Man (code for Messiah) must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again. He spoke plainly about this… (Mark 8:31-32). Denial set in. No way, not possible. You are the Messiah. You must be mistaken. Peter went as far as to rebuke the Son of the living God. That didn’t go well for Peter.
Denial – the action of declaring something to be untrue
Thus the rebuke. Jesus must have been mistaken. He must have misheard his instructions. Nope! Jesus then called the crowd (lit. throng) to join in on the conversation to which he said, Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me (Mark 8:33). A different kind of denial, here.
I suspect Jesus knew exactly what he was doing when he turned the disciples denial of his declaration into the pronouncement of a different kind of denial – denial of self. And he declared it as central to follower-ship. Notice the order of things. To be my disciple you must…
Deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow me.
What does denial of self look like? In our culture, self-denial tends to be connected to self-improvement or, religiously, to things like fasting and lent. True, they may be types of self-denial, but in context Jesus seems to have been suggesting they deny their worldview of what Messiahship might look like. It certainly wasn’t just giving up sweets.
Not only did Jesus suggest the denial of self as a prerequisite to becoming a disciple, but he also included the necessity of taking up one’s cross. We often hear statements like “it’s their cross to bear,” referring to difficult life situations or inconveniences. That is not what Jesus is intimating here. As Jesus and his disciples walked from village to village in first-century Palestine, they likely saw many crucifixions along the roadsides. The Romans didn’t carry out crucifixions in the confinement of prisons the way we conduct executions in America. Crucifixions were a very public style of execution, along byways, serving as deterrents.
So taking up one’s cross brought connotations of cruelty, pain, dehumanization, shame, and ultimately death. More than a mere inconvenience. Jesus was laying out the cost of discipleship. I have referred previously to Dallas Willard’s charge that culturally we have made discipleship optional. I guess in some ways Jesus also made it optional. He was describing the cost. The cost was all or none.
I think of the conversation between the pig and the chicken regarding their supplying of bacon and eggs to the farmer for his breakfast. The pig reminded the chicken that breakfast would cost her a couple eggs and a sore butt. For him, it was total commitment.
Deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow me.
Now at the feast he used to release for them one prisoner for whom they asked. And among the rebels in prison, who had committed murder in the insurrection, there was a man called Barabbas. And the crowd came up and began to ask Pilate to do as he was wont to do for them. And he answered them, “Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” For he perceived that it was out of envy that the chief priests had delivered him up. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release for them Barabbas instead. (Mark 15:6-11)
Several years ago I published a blog post discussing an experience I had 50+ years ago while reading the passion account in the gospels (see Crucify Him!). I had become fully aware that had I been at the Praetorium the day Jesus was “convicted,” I might have joined the chant “crucify him” because I may have lacked the courage to stand against the crowd. I remember feeling like Peter must have felt. And I too, wept bitterly.
My Lent rhythm this year has included readings from Walter Wangerin’s Reliving the Passion. While reading the above passage, a lead-up to the crowd chant of “crucify him,” memories of that experience 50+ years ago came rushing back. Wangerin’s treatment of the Mark passage is exemplary, worthy of sharing. So here it is in its entirety…
Behold the people! Though they think themselves the force of the morning, in charge of things (by virtue of their numbers and their noise), they are in fact being put to a test which shall reveal the truth beneath their words, the reality beneath their self-assumptions and all their pretense. Behold the nature of the breed!
A crowd has gathered at the Praetorium, a rabble, an obstreperous delegation of Judeans whose presence complicates Pilate’s inclination to release Jesus. These crowds are volatile. Instead of a simple release, then, a choice is offered the people. Let the people feel in charge; let the people decide.
The Governor will, according to a traditional Passover amnesty, free one prisoner. Which will it be— Jesus of Nazareth?—whom they have falsely accused of treason against the Empire? Or Barabbas?—treasonous in fact, one who committed murder for the cause? If they choose the latter, their loyalties to the Empire (which Jesus is supposed to have offended) are revealed a vile sham, and these are no more than temporizing hypocrites, pretending any virtue to satisfy a private end.
But the Governor will release only one prisoner. Which will it be? Jesus—who is the Son of the Father, who is the Kingdom of God come near unto them? Or Barabbas—whose name means “the son of a (human) father,” flesh itself, the fleshly pretensions to god-like, personal power in the kingdoms of the world? This, precisely, is the timeless choice of humankind. If they choose the latter, they choose humanity over divinity. They choose one who will harm them over one who would heal them.
If they choose Barabbas, they choose the popular revolutionary hero, the swashbuckler, the pirate, merry Robin Hood, the blood-lusty rake, the law-flout, violence glorified, appetites satisfied, James Bond, Billy Jack, Clint Eastwood, Rambo, the celebrated predator, the one who “turns them on,” over one who asks them to “deny themselves and die.”
They choose (voluntarily!) entertainment over worship, self-satisfaction over sacrificial love, getting things over giving things, being served over serving, “feeling good about myself” and having it all and gaining the whole world and rubbing elbows with the rich rather than rubbing the wounds of the poor— The choice is before them. And they think the choice is external, this man or that man.
In fact, the choice is terribly internal: this nature or that one, good folks or people essentially selfish and evil, therefore. It’s an accurate test of their character. How they choose is who they are. Behold a people in desperate need of forgiveness.
And this, Christ, is the stunning irony: that their evil was made good in you! You knew our nature as children of wrath; you knew exactly how we would choose; you put yourself in harm’s way that our sin might kill you, that your death might redeem us even from our sinful nature! Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, and I grow dizzy thinking about it. All that I can say with certainty, but with everlasting gratitude, is— Amen.
(Wangerin Jr., Walter. Reliving the Passion: Meditations on the Suffering, Death, and the Resurrection of Jesus as Recorded in Mark. (pp. 99-100). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.)
As a kid, I was enamored by candles. I even started making candles at a pretty young age. Christmas candles were especially intriguing to a young kid. So were the candles that were lit around the house during a power outage (which were fairly regular in rural Minnesota during the 1950s-60s). I was enthralled by the dancing flames and the dancing figures they created on the walls. By the time I reached Junior High, I was pretty familiar with candles, or so I thought.
My eighth-grade science teacher gave us an assignment at the beginning of the year. Wanting us to learn to be observant, she gave us a homework assignment that involved observing a candle for 10 minutes and writing down all the things we saw. She issued a challenge to observe 10-15 things. Given my familiarity with candles, I was looking forward to the challenge, pondering it while I did my evening chores in the barn – what candle to use, where to conduct this high-level experiment, in which room, etc. I was a middle school science geek!
I was surprised at the number of things I observed, far surpassing the anticipated 10-15. What was more surprising was that despite my “familiarity” with candles, there was far more to observe than dancing figures on the wall. For the first time, I noticed the various flame colors – yellow, orange, and blue. I noticed flame shape – pointed, rounded, irregular. Pausing to watch for an extended time allowed me to observe the wax melt, pool, and drip down the side of the candle. I had never previously paid attention to smoke dispersant – the various ways the smoke rose or dispersed around the flame. I have continued to discover over the years there are lots of surprises that surpass familiarity if we are observant…
I continue to follow Anne F. Downs’ Let’s Read the Gospels podcast that she rolled out in January 2023. Throughout 2023, she read all four Gospels monthly, so I got to listen to Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John twelve times each over the year. I was constantly hearing things I never remember reading and/or hearing before. If you know me, you know that I’ve consistently and regularly read the Gospels for the past 50+ years – maybe a few hundred times each.
And I still see/hear new things.
This year Downs is reading a chapter a day. By slowing things down, I read the same text in a couple of translations while consulting an on-line Greek interlinear source. It’s been a transformative time. I see things in a different light and the Greek interlinear source is invaluable in helping understand the richness of the words the evangelists selected to describe Jesus – his teaching and his actions – and how the first-century readers would have understood what they were writing.
And I keep hearing and seeing new things
Recently, Matthew 24 was in the queue. For context, Jesus was sitting on the Mount of Olives with his disciples overlooking Jerusalem, the center of Jewish religious and political power. He had been preparing them for a future that did not include the restoration of Israel but rather a complete destruction of their beloved city.
After listening to Downs, I then read from the Kingdom New Testament (aka New Testament for Everyone) and saw this…
And because lawlessness will be on the increase, many will find their love growing cold (Matthew 24:12).
This passage has been running through my mind since I read it, mulling over several questions: (1) What did Jesus want his disciples to hear regarding the impending fall of Jerusalem and the effect on their lives? (2) What did Matthew want the readers to hear and understand given that he may have written his gospel a dozen years after the fall? and (3) What might we want to pay attention to 2000 years later? Some of my pondering and wonderments…
(1) What did Jesus want his disciples to hear regarding the impending fall of Jerusalem and the effect on their lives? On a very basic level, I suspect Jesus wanted them to know what was coming down the pike regarding their nation and its occupancy by Rome. Keep in mind that Jesus (and his followers) knew nothing other than Roman occupancy. Nor did their parents. Or likely even their grandparents. So everyone was looking for a messiah that would restore their kingdom.
At this stage in the journey, Jesus had spent several years teaching his followers that God’s kingdom was not going to look like a restored nation, but something entirely new and different. During the last portion of his journey with his apprentices, Jesus repeatedly (literally, repeatedly) presented them with the vision of a Messiah who was ushering in this new kind of kingdom. And that those in power (not the Romans, mind you) who were uninterested in the ethics of this new kind of kingdom would kill him. Others who cared only about a national kingdom would stay their course and revolt against the Romans with brutal and disastrous results.
I suspect Jesus wanted his initial followers to be alert and not be caught off guard when the “City of God” is sacked. And practically, he may have been warning them of the impending brutal Roman siege and the resulting starvation.
There will be lawlessness, but don’t let your love grow cold
(2) What did Matthew want the readers to hear and understand given that he may have written his gospel a dozen years after the fall of Jerusalem? What comes to mind is the letters to the seven churches that we find in Revelation. In the face of lawlessness that resulted in suffering and persecution, they were admonished to keep their faith, to not lose their first love. These very churches could have been readers and hearers of Matthew’s gospel.
There will be lawlessness, but don’t let your love grow cold
(3) What might we want to pay attention to 2000 years later? (This could be a whole other blog post.) The word lawlessness grabbed my attention. The New Oxford Dictionary defines it as “a state of disorder due to a disregard of the law.” No big surprise here. However, look at the list of synonyms that Oxford included…
Anarchy, disorder, chaos, unruliness, lack of control, lack of restraint, wildness, riot, criminality, crime, rebellion, revolution, mutiny, insurgency, insurrection, misrule
I suspect this list contains several words we’ve heard and seen in the news in recent years. And on social media. Words that cause us to be concerned about the state of our world and society. Words wielded in the arena of cultural contention. Words that cause us to wring our hands in lament and angst. What might Jesus say to us today in the midst of all this? Maybe…
There will be lawlessness, but don’t let your love grow cold
As I write this it is February 21, 2024. Five years ago today I published the first blog post on this site. Five years! Sometimes five years seems like a long time. Other times it flies by almost unnoticed. For me, this has been one of those “I can’t believe it’s been five years already” type of thing. It’s been a good five years!
Twenty years ago I had created a blog to stay connected with young people I knew through church youth ministry or Young Life. Over time the audience grew to a diverse mix of people – younger and older. The original blog came to a grinding halt as coursework ramped up for the doctorate in education program in which I participated. After a hiatus of several years, I re-entered the world of blogging five years ago.*
I found that I deeply missed the opportunity to write and ponder. Originally I was writing and publishing blog posts to benefit others. However, I soon discovered that I was the main beneficiary, allowing others to “look over my shoulder” as I tried to make sense of and describe my theological thoughts and wonderments. Blogging has become a healthy way for me to process what I was discovering as a Christ-follower. So I continue.
Practical theology? What do I mean by that? Actually, I was figuring this out as I wandered into this process five years ago. And I’m still figuring it out, which I think is a good thing, actually. I have always described myself as a practical theologian, using the term theologian loosely. In my thinking, a theology that doesn’t play out in one’s everyday life is impractical, or of no real use. A “practical” definition of theology is the attempt to understand God, what he is up to, and then join him in his work.
This blog has focused on just that – how we join God in his work, both globally and in that part of the world where he has landed us. We do that by focusing on Jesus Christ, the incarnate God that became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood (John 1:14, MSG). While focusing on Jesus, we attempt to discover the “Jesus of scripture” over and against the “Jesus” of American/Western Christian culture.
We also focus on Jesus so that we can learn “the Jesus way,” a term coined by Eugene Peterson. Focussing on Jesus to learn his way is what a Christ-follower does. It’s integral to being a disciple, an apprentice – we spend copious amounts of time with him. Why? So we can learn from him, become like him, and join him in his work. John Mark Comer simplifies “join him in his work” as “Do as he did.”** I’ve always appreciated Dallas Willard’s description: “Do as he did/would do if he were you.” Quite practical!
I wonder what the next five years will bring?
* I am grateful to my friend Björk Ostrom for his encouragement five years ago to start blogging again and for his tutorials in WordPress. Björk is a master in WordPress. This is an example of his work: https://pinchofyum.com/
** Comer, J. M. (2024). Practicing the way : be with jesus, become like him, do as he did (First). WaterBrook.
I have not watched Fiddler on the Roof in a long time, maybe 50 years. I think maybe I should again, especially in light of my personal theological development and deep dives into history these past many years (including Russian history).
Fiddler on the Roof is a musical set in the early 20th century in a fictional Jewish village in Tsarist Russia. The central character is Tevye, a poor milkman, who grapples with the challenges of tradition, societal change, and the evolving relationships within his family. Tevye and his wife Golde strive to maintain their cultural and religious traditions while facing the pressures of external forces, including anti-Semitic sentiments and the influence of the Russian government.
The musical is laced with many great songs – If I Were a Rich Man; Matchmaker, Matchmaker; Sunrise, Sunset* to name a few. One morning recently the opening song, Tradition, came rushing to mind. I was reading the seventh chapter of the gospel of Mark…
A short overview of events in Mark 7: Several religious leaders had traveled from Jerusalem to the Galilee area to check out the new itinerant rabbi, Jesus. One can assume that word had gotten back to them in Jerusalem that this rabbi was doing some unique things. They might have arrived to validate Jesus’ ministry. Or they made the trek to check up on rumors that were filtering up to Jerusalem – that this rabbi was doing things differently and not following the acceptable rules of being a rabbi. In reading Mark’s narrative, I suspect the latter.
Upon their arrival, the Pharisees and the teachers of the law saw some of Jesus’ disciples (apprentices) eating food with unwashed and thus defiled hands. This was contrary to the tradition of the elders. In first-century Jewish tradition, much effort was exerted in the avoidance of defilement. To them, defilement was profanity. They weren’t concerned as much with personal hygiene as they were with setting themselves apart from the Gentiles that lived among them (Romans, et. al.). The word for “defiled,” koinos (“common”), signifies that the disciples had not set themselves apart for God by making themselves ritually pure. Since a rabbi trains his apprentices, their question was a not-so-subtle critique of Jesus’ teaching as contrary to Jewish tradition. So they flat-out asked Jesus,
“Why don’t your disciples live according to the tradition of the elders instead of eating their food with defiled hands?” (Mark 7:5)
They challenged Jesus by using their oral traditions as a standard by which to evaluate the actions of his disciples. Jesus responded to their challenge with a challenge of his own, pointing them to the actual scripture…
Jesus replied, Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written: “These people honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.
They worship me in vain;
their teachings are merely human rules.”
As if Isaiah’s rebuke wasn’t enough, Jesus drove the point home: You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions (Mark 7:8). He went on to remind them of a particular instance where they allowed their traditions to trump their God-given responsibilities to honor and care for their parents.
The operative word in this discourse is tradition, the tradition of the elders. Adherence to these oral traditions was how the people set themselves apart for God amid foreign occupation. This orally developed “law” was not law at all. It was extra stuff that infiltrated the rich and authentic law prescribed by God – a law not meant for differentiation but as a guide for God’s people to follow faithfully.
God’s commands were trumped by tradition.
Were “traditions of the elders” simply a first-century issue? Not at all. History reveals teachings/traditions that were merely human developments (seemingly useful) which, in time, trumped God’s word. A simple example…
Over the recent Christmas break, we had a little party with our Young Life Young Adult Campaigner (Bible Study) group. I presented them with a dozen commonly-held beliefs related to our Christmas tradition in trivia form. They were simple questions like, How did Mary and Joseph travel to Bethlehem? ❄️ What did the innkeeper say to Mary and Joseph? ❄️ How many wise men came to see Jesus? ❄️ Where did the wise men find Jesus? Relying on tradition, these young people (most brought up in the Church) got these questions wrong (as did I many years ago)!
Tradition trumped scripture!
I have talked with a lot of people who are very familiar with the Word of God, but not so much with the Word that became flesh. They are familiar with the Jesus who saved us so we can join him in heaven when we die; less familiar with the Jesus who called people (us included) to follow him, to become his disciples (apprentices). Jesus’ apprentices spent inordinate amounts of time with Him, learning from him, becoming like him, and ultimately doing what he did (joining Him in his mission).
Discipleship/apprenticeship, as Dallas Willard would remind us if he were here today, has become blatantly optional. Western evangelical tradition seems to focus on our position (heaven-bound people) and not our calling to be apprenticed followers.
After Jesus told the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions, he further drove his point home with, You have a fine way of setting aside the commands of God in order to observe your own traditions!
May we become apprentices of the Word that became flesh, so as not to allow Him to be trumped by human traditions (or other ideologies).
* Which my father-in-law sang so beautifully at our wedding.
Answers:
My friend and colleague, Chuck Jamison, has often related the story of the beginnings of his journey as a Christ-follower. As a high school kid from Kansas City, he found himself spending a week at Young Life’s Castaway Club in northern Minnesota. As he relates the experience…
It was at Castaway in the summer of 1969 and they gave us 20 minutes to go outside after the cross-talk. I remember standing in the middle of what used to be the moonball field looking up at the sky and saying “God, I don’t know if you’re up there. But if you are, I give as much of myself as I understand (which isn’t very much) to as much of you as I understand (which is even less). Then I waited for a shooting star or lightning or some sign. But nothing happened. When I told my Young Life leader what happened, he said, “Oh, if you gave him an opening, he’s in your life! You’ll see evidence of it over time.“ And I did.
I’m reminded a bit of the Apostle Simon, renamed Peter by Jesus. Jesus first met him when he was fishing with his brother, Andrew. Peter was likely 15-16 years old at the time. He was fishing, not in Hebrew school. If you recall, there were various rites of passage in the first-century Hebrew education system in which students were either invited to continue their education or “invited” to discontinue formal education to learn the trade of their father (see Follow the Leader). Peter and Andrew apparently fit the latter category.
Following the life of Peter, we find a young man filled with passion and competitiveness. (The Chosen has done a great job of capturing his personality as depicted in the gospels.) He seemed to always strive to “get it right,” whatever right du jour happened to be. He often spoke or acted before thinking. Self-awareness and self-differentiation were not his strengths. He’s the one who always seemed to get caught up in the moment, blurting out comments without thinking. Think of the Transfiguration account in which he got caught up in the excitement after witnessing Elijah and Moses in person talking with Jesus…
Peter (to Jesus): “Teacher, it’s a great thing that we’re here. We should build three shelters here: one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He was babbling and did not know what he was saying because they were terrified by what they were witnessing. (Mark 9, The Voice)
To be fair, he did get it right at times. It was Peter who correctly declared Jesus to be the Messiah (Mark 8:29). However, once his Messiahship was out in the open, Jesus began preparing the disciples for his impending suffering and death under the direction of the religious leaders. Peter’s response? He began to rebuke the Messiah. Jesus responded with the well-known “Get behind me, Satan!” (Mark 8:33) Poor, passionate Peter. So close!
Then there was Peter’s coup de grâce – his infamous denial of Jesus recounted by all four evangelists. Again we see Jesus explaining to his followers the rejection and suffering that lay ahead and the fearful response of his followers. Peter, of course, retorted never: “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will!” This was followed by Jesus’ prediction of Peter’s denial (which he also vehemently disagreed with: “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you”). True to his passion and determination, Peter protected Jesus by taking a swing at the head of one of the arresting temple servants, missing and only slicing off an ear (which Jesus put back on the guy). Poor, passionate, undifferentiated Peter. So close!
We can’t read the denial experience without feeling his pain. But the Gospel is very good news. The Apostle John made sure to incorporate the so-called “Reinstatement of Peter” as a wrap-up to his gospel…
When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” “Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.” Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.” The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. (John 21:15-17)
There is more to the “reinstatement” narrative than meets the eye. In the New Testament, we find two different Greek words translated as “love.” Agape is used to describe the compassionate, self-sacrificing type of love commensurate with the character of God. Phileo describes a fondness that one person has for another. Think of Philadelphia, the city of “brotherly love” (phileo). John used both terms when he wrote this discourse. The narrative takes on a markedly different feel when the Greek words for love are woven into the text…
When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you agape me more than these?” “Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I phileo you”… Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you agape me?” He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I phileo you”… The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you phileo me?” Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you phileo me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I phileo you.”
Peter was finally at a place of self-awareness. Jesus asked Peter if he could love him the way he loved Peter (agape). After the humbling events of the past week or so, I suspect Peter realized that phileo was his best shot. So that was his response to all three of Jesus’ questions. The third time, Jesus met Peter where was at: “Simon son of John, do you phileo me?” Though frustrated that Jesus seemed to have lowered his expectations of him, Peter didn’t respond with agape, with what he thought Jesus wanted to hear.
And Jesus seemed to be OK with phileo. He didn’t change Peter’s calling to shepherd the flock. It seems that Peter was giving as much of himself as he understood (which wasn’t as much as he once thought) to as much of Jesus as he understood (which he was just beginning to understand). The rest is, as we say, history. Peter went on to become a bedrock leader in the new movement referred to as The Way. The Catholic Church posthumously revered him as the first Pope. We, like Peter, discover that…
God doesn’t call the equipped. He equips the called.
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