Where was the end-time champion to be found? One who’d encourage the people to live up to a higher standard of conduct in preparation for the wonderful new environment God had planned for people?
For many, Jesus was just that champion. He challenged and he promised.
He challenged his followers to observe Torah, strictly. This may come as a surprise, for Christians today do not observe Torah. Yet, like the prophets and all Jewish leaders before him, Jesus did exactly that. He taught, debated, and practiced Torah. His earliest followers, under the leadership of his brother, James, also observed the law as Jesus himself had done. This meant keeping the Sabbath, observing the dietary laws, practicing circumcision, honoring the Ten Commandments, and all the other requirements of the law. In light of well-founded fears over Hellenistic assimilation and annihilation, no responsible Jewish leader of the time would have dared suggest abandoning the Torah. That would have been a suicidal message for any Jewish community and that was not Jesus’ position.
His challenge was supported by a promise. Jesus regaled his audiences throughout the Galilee with amazing parables that assured them that dramatic changes were on the way. These stories drew people into a marvelous world in an enchanting way, inviting them to consider the tremendous possibilities of a new social order that he claimed was dawning on the world stage, the Kingdom of God. This was the moment when God would make good on his promises to the Jewish people and establish God’s sovereign rule over all the earth. Jesus thought it would occur within his lifetime and that he would have an important role in bringing it about. That powerful vision galvanized his followers, and it tapped deep into the underground dreams for a Messiah who would come to assist God in bringing about a transformed earth. This confirmed what the secret biblical detectives had known all along: that the times were historic. The age of wickedness was about to be replaced by something truly spectacular.
Through persuasive parables, Jesus presented the Kingdom message—what it would be like and who would be included—and this raised enormous expectations that the end of Hellenization was near. Gone would be the Romans, the hated colonizers and occupiers of the land. Soon there would be God’s rule over the entire earth. This was a sentiment shared by other Jewish factions of the time: the Dead Sea Scroll community, the Pharisees, the Zealots, and the nameless underground groups looking for signs of the times. Jesus’ message resonated with all the Jewish groups of his time—everyone, that is, except for the Sadducees who favored the status quo and its easy accommodation with the Romans. It is therefore not surprising that later on in Jesus’ life he was condemned to death by a Sadducean high priest and his unruly crowd of supporters.
In setting forth his message, we need to recognize that Jesus himself wrote nothing during his ministry in the 20s. He probably didn’t because he expected God’s Kingdom to materialize on earth within his lifetime. Consequently, there was no need for him to write down his thoughts. His task was to proclaim the Kingdom and get the people ready for a wonderful new future. As well, the earliest Christian writings—the letters of Paul—tell us very little about the life and teachings of Jesus. Paul only mentioned that Jesus was born, that he was Jewish, and that he died—all very frustrating when we want details. His interests clearly lay elsewhere, as we will discover. In addition, there are no accounts contemporary with Jesus’ mission during the 20s. The gospels did not appear until long after the death of Jesus and Paul. Mark, the earliest gospel, is dated by scholars to have been written about the time of the destruction of the Temple, that is, around A.D. 70. The others are even later: Matthew from the 80s, John, the 90s. Luke’s gospel is dated anywhere from the 90s through to the 120s.1 In other words, our “records” date some forty to ninety years after Jesus’ life and death—two, three, and four generations later. Nor do we know who wrote these gospels, two, three, and four generations after Jesus. Later tradition only attributes these to a “Mark,” a “Matthew,” a “Luke,” and a “John.” But those traditions are no more reliable than those that attribute other gospels to a “Thomas,” a “Mary,” a “Philip,” a “James,” or “the Savior.”
Moreover, as we might expect, concerns and issues in the late first century helped to shape their narratives, and so their account of Jesus’ words and activities are filtered through their individual perspectives and the needs of their respective audiences. Matthew, for instance, is writing for a predominately Jewish group; Luke is writing for Gentiles. That helps to shape what they write. Matthew is writing in part to position the religion of Rabbi Jesus as an alternative to mainstream Judaism. Luke, on the other hand, is striving to present the new religion as one fit for the Roman world.
Writing down these various accounts was likely sparked by several factors. The death of Jesus’ earliest followers—James, Paul, and Peter, and undoubtedly many others during the 60s—made preserving the teachings of Jesus all the more urgent. No longer could these be confined to oral transmission. Written records were required. Moreover, the tremendous upheaval in Judea with the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple in A.D. 70 raised fears about the survival of Judaism and its religious offshoots. Would the new movement itself survive the Roman onslaught? Just as the members of the Dead Sea Scroll community relegated their writings to jars in the Judean desert to await friendlier times, so also the followers of Jesus committed their oral traditions to written scrolls. They, too, could not be sure of their future in such uncertain times.
As well, it should be admitted, there was growing disenchantment within the movement caused by “the delay.” This is getting ahead of our story somewhat, but it needs to be recognized here that the Kingdom did not materialize as Jesus promised. Some followers, a few years after Jesus’ death, began to grow tired, waiting for the Kingdom. Where on earth was it? they rightfully asked. Jesus had promised it in his lifetime. Paul, moreover, had urged people not to marry—or if they did, not to have sex—on the grounds that the time of the end was too close to permit that kind of behavior. But even more importantly, the decisive victory by the Romans over the Jewish people raised doubts that a wonderful new era of world peace was at hand. By 70, the Kingdom of God vision seemed to be an empty promise.
Whatever the complex set of catalysts for writing down the life and teachings of Jesus, we now have four gospels included in the canon of the New Testament, as well as many more that weren’t chosen for inclusion.
We will follow the portrait presented primarily in the Gospel of Matthew, with some side references to the other gospels.2 There are two very good reasons for favoring this representation of Jesus. First of all, in the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew preserved teachings of Jesus shared by the earliest form of Christianity, the Jesus Movement in Jerusalem.3 The views presented in this gospel correspond to how this early community understood him. This group included his brother, James, and this should make us sit up and take notice. If anyone would have been in a position to know what the authentic Jesus said, it would likely have been his brother. So Matthew is a good place to start since this writing reflects a view of Jesus that was widely shared by his earliest followers.
Second, the Gospel of Matthew placed Jesus centrally within the potitical and theological debates of his time. In this document, for instance, we see the Jewishness of Jesus coming through in discussions with other Jewish leaders of the time on such questions as keeping the Sabbath and following the Torah. Situating Jesus within the context of his own time, now better understood by our having the Dead Sea Scrolls at our disposal, represents a sound move. That way, his outlook, challenges, and expectations can be placed in their proper context.
By using Matthew’s gospel, we can also focus on Jesus’ parables. Here we will see Jesus’ social message shining through, attacking society and proposing a radical alternative—what he called the Kingdom of God. Along with strict Torah observance, this represented Jesus’ provocative response to Hellenization. The Kingdom proclamation attracted massive attention—from ordinary people weary of occupation, and also from the authorities who were threatened by this new political possibility.
So what is Matthew’s “take” on Jesus in the 80s, some fifty years or so after his death?
According to the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 2:1), Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea sometime toward the end of Herod the Great’s reign.4 Since Herod died in 4 B.C., Jesus was likely born around 5 or 6 B.C. In time, his parents relocated to Nazareth in the Galilee. He would not have recognized his name as “Jesus,” which is Greek. Nobody ever called him that. His name was “Yeshua” or “Yehoshua,” that is, “Joshua” in English. He had four brothers: James (“Ya’akov,” Jacob in English), Joseph or Joses, Simon, and Judas, and at least two sisters who are not named (Matthew 13:55). His parents—Mary (“Miriam”) and Joseph (“Yosef”)—were observant Jews. He exercised a ministry during the 20s and was put to death around 30. He was Jewish.
Whatever the precise circumstances surrounding his birth, he was born of a Jewish mother in Bethlehem only a few miles south of Jerusalem. In friendlier times than now, it was an easy walk from Jerusalem to Bethlehem. Today from some modern high-rise hotels in this ancient city, we can look south from Jerusalem and see the hills of Bethlehem in the distance. It’s that close. Matthew indicated that shortly after the birth of Jesus, the family fled into Egypt to avoid the wrath of Herod the Great. This, however, seems to be an artificial device so as to allow Jesus’ family eventually to return from Egypt. Thus Matthew could feel comfortable applying Hosea’s saying to Jesus: “Out of Egypt have I called my son” (Matthew 2:15 quoting Hosea 11:1). The prophet Hosea clearly meant Israel as God’s son, referring to the Exodus of the Israelites out of Egypt, but here Matthew applied it directly to Jesus. Even today, taking Matthew’s account literally, some Coptic Christian churches in Egypt have been named to mark significant milestones in this very young infant life of Jesus.
Writing early in the second century and likely without knowing the Gospel of Matthew, Luke recorded a very different tradition. Shortly after the birth of Jesus, his family returned to Jerusalem, directly into the heart of the lion’s lair—the exact opposite of what Matthew would have us accept. As required by Jewish law, he was circumcised on the eighth day (Luke 2:21). Also, in accordance with Torah obligations, his mother, Mary, underwent a purification ritual in a mikvah or “ritual bath” in Jerusalem and participated in the redemption of the firstborn ceremony there:
When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.” (Luke 2:22—23)
Just in passing we should note that the gospels are inconsistent. We cannot, for instance, reconcile both Matthew’s and Luke’s accounts of what happened immediately after the birth of Jesus. We cannot have Jesus’ family both going to Jerusalem, to Herod’s stronghold, while simultaneously fleeing into Egypt away from Herod’s influence. Siding with Luke on this matter, most scholars today interpret Matthew’s flight into Egypt either as symbolic or highly artificial.
We know very little of Jesus’ youth and teenage years. We do not know, for instance, where he studied, with whom, what languages other than Aramaic he may have known (both Hebrew and Greek are possibilities), who his friends were, how he interacted with his brothers and sisters, how he got along with his mother and father, what relatives he had other than his cousin, John the Baptist (or “Baptizer” as some call him, so as to avoid picturing John as “a Baptist” in contemporary denominational terms). How did he support himself, his studies or his travels growing up? Did he visit Sepphoris, that fabulous Hellenized city situated high on a hill only a few miles from Nazareth? Did he or his father perhaps work there, helping to construct this magnificent new city that only today is being unearthed? Why did he start his ministry? And what was the relationship between Jesus’ movement and that of John the Baptist? We cannot now reconstruct his day-to-day life, but we can imagine a combination of work and study, synagogue attendance, conversation, and good family times centered on the weekly Sabbath meal and the annual major Jewish festivals.
Certainly he knew the scriptures, especially the books of Deuteronomy and Isaiah, which he quoted extensively. Both support his understanding of Torah and the hope for a better world where God reigns supreme. He shared with his cousin, John the Baptist, a political message. John himself was an interesting character, being a Nazirite (Luke 1:15), that is, a Torah-observant Jew who had taken a special vow of “separation” from ordinary society for a spiritual purpose. A Nazirite was dedicated to the service of God, abstained from wine, did not shave, and avoided contact with the dead (Numbers 6:1—21). Other Nazirites included two great heroes of the Old Testament, Samson and Samuel. Interestingly enough, Jesus’ brother, James, was also a Nazirite.
John was a rough fellow and must have presented a strange, charismatic figure to the people of his era. Clothed in a camel’s hair garment with a leather belt, he operated by the shores of the Jordan River, baptizing people there. He ate a strange diet: locusts and honey. According to Josephus, John’s water ritual was a sign of repentance—a change of heart—a rededication to the covenant with God as expressed in the Torah. That is probably why he undertook Nazirite vows, to embark on a special mission to recall the Jewish people back to the demands of Torah. This commitment or renewal he dramatized and symbolized through a purification ritual. A rededication to Torah was John’s strategy for dealing with Hellenization, and he seems to have been immensely popular, attracting a huge following. Both the gospels and Josephus attest to this. It was his political views, however, criticizing Herod’s multiple marriages, especially a marriage to a niece, that seem to have landed him in hot water—and ultimately got him killed. John’s ritual was not unusual. The members of the Dead Sea Scroll community immersed themselves periodically in a mikvah, as a symbol of cleansing. Similarly, others in a state of impurity— women after childbirth as well as pilgrims going up to the Temple—would immerse themselves completely in water.
What were Jesus’ connections to John the Baptist? Did they share a common political vision of the Kingdom of God? Did they work together? We know that several of Jesus’ earliest disciples had originally been members of John’s group, so there were those links—Peter and his brother Andrew being two. We hear of Jesus baptizing, not in the Galilee where we would expect, but farther south, in Judea, around the hills of Jerusalem. In this connection, James Tabor draws attention to a neglected passage in the Gospel of John:
“After this, Jesus and his disciples went into the Judean countryside, and he spent some time there with them and baptized. John also was baptizing at Aenon near Salim….” (John (3:22,23; emphasis added).
Jesus baptizing is unusual and does not fit with the usual picture of Jesus. But here he is, at the start of his ministry, engaging in the same occupation as John the Baptist. Did Jesus and John then share a baptism mission?5 And how did Jesus react to the death of his cousin, John?
The gospels appear to be divided in their impressions of whether Jesus was himself baptized by John. Theological subtleties lurk here, and the gospels rewrite the story to accommodate later concerns. The sequence is truly amazing. The earliest story is straightforward: according to Mark, Jesus was baptized by John. That’s a straightforward account—no issues and no perceived problems. Matthew, however, writing a decade or so after Mark and using Mark’s gospel as a basis for his, sensed a difficulty. John’s baptism was for the forgiveness of sins. If Jesus were baptized by John, this would imply that, like other human beings, Jesus was a sinful being. So in rewriting what Mark had recorded, Matthew portrayed John as reluctant to baptize Jesus. He did so, eventually, but only because Jesus insisted.
The two later gospels try to skirt the issue entirely. Luke, for instance, depicted Jesus being baptized, but omitted reference to John as the agent. We are left wondering, in his account, just what happened. Did Jesus just immerse himself in the Jordan River? So Luke sidestepped the issue completely. The most radical solution is found in the Gospel of John. While outlining the baptizing activities of John the Baptist, this gospel avoids mentioning if Jesus was himself baptized at all. Clearly, later gospel writers were intent on preserving a unique status for Jesus as being without sin. Growing beliefs about the nature of Jesus dictate the story.
Later Christians also interpreted John as the expected Elijah figure who would return just prior to the “great and terrible day of the Lord” (Malachi 4:5). But we should be cautious in how we visualize such an interpretation. John was thoroughly Jewish, not a “pre-Christian,” and the mission he undertook was conducted in accordance with the Judaism of his era. Just prior to this phrase about the day of the Lord, the prophet Malachi had urged his hearers to “remember the teaching of my servant Moses, the statutes and ordinances that I commanded him at Horeb [Sinai] for all Israel” (Malachi 4:4). These two passages in the prophet Malachi tie together Torah observance and preparation for the Kingdom: they are inseparable. Both John and Jesus shared a common religious task: to urge people to observe Torah and to return to the full demands of the covenant with God before that great and terrible day arrives. This demonstrates that both John the Baptist and Jesus shared that great end-time dream of Judaism. Sensing that the “day of the Lord” was at hand, they urgently sought to prepare people for this great event in which they’d participate. Those people alive at the time in the mid to late 20s were living through historic times. The world would never be the same—soon.
Whatever the connections were between Jesus and his cousin John the Baptist, early Christians were frustrated by the lack of information about Jesus prior to his ministry in the late 20s. This led to some interesting fabrications on their part. The midsecond century writing, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, for instance, had Jesus at age five molding twelve clay birds on the Sabbath and bringing them to life.6 Rather alarmingly, he was reported to have killed several children who interfered with his own play. He exhibited disrespect for his teachers and showed off from time to time. Occasionally he used his unusual talents positively, to perform several healing miracles, rescuing his brother James, for instance, from certain death due to a snakebite. He even helped his father, Joseph, lengthen a piece of wood that he had inaccurately cut when making a bed for an important client. Such stories have little evidentiary worth, except to disclose the mind-set and interests of some early Christians who regarded these stories as appropriate of Jesus. Why they would have chosen to depict the young Jesus as out of control and destructive has baffled scholars for centuries.
Every year, Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem from the Galilee for Passover, not an insignificant trip in the first century A.D., and one that demonstrated strong commitment to Torah observances (Luke 2:41). Likely it was a three-day trip, each way, from Nazareth up north in the Galilee to Jerusalem. During one of these visits, when Jesus was twelve, he spent a number of days in the Temple, studying with Torah experts who expressed astonishment at his depth of knowledge. While the bar mitzvah celebration is a more recent development within Judaism, the incident in the Temple when Jesus was in his thirteenth year bears some resemblances to taking on the adult obligations of Torah personally. Not only did he engage leading scholars in the Temple in a discussion of Torah, but he also seems to have been responsible for his own welfare and didn’t leave Jerusalem when his family left. In fact, after several days, they backtracked to locate him among the long line of pilgrims trudging back along the valley road to the Galilee. They were clearly annoyed at his insensitivity. Where were you? they rightfully asked. Instead of submitting to their rebuke, however, he arrogantly responded that they should know that he had his own matters to look after. Sounds like a typical teenager comment.
How long this tradition of going up to Jerusalem lasted within his family is not recorded. His final trip up to Jerusalem, shortly before his death, was to celebrate Passover. Obviously this festival represented an important family and personal tradition that would not be missed.
In the late 20s, Jesus emerges as a Jewish teacher in Galilee, the hilly northern region of Israel. Leaving his native Nazareth, he moved north and east, setting up a headquarters at the top end of the Sea of Galilee. The place was Capernaum or, in Hebrew, Kfar Nahum, the village of Nahum. Nahum was one of the prophets in the Old Testament. With its spectacular views of the magnificent oval Sea of Galilee to the south and the mountainous Golan Heights to the east, Capernaum formed a convenient base of operations from which Jesus could venture out to speak with people throughout the region. His choice of headquarters may also have been symbolic. Seven centuries earlier, Nahum had proclaimed that Assyrian power was about to be swept away. God would enter the human arena to do away with the notorious cruelty and immorality of the Assyrians. While Nahum was said to have hailed from the town of Elkosh, a village bearing the prophet’s own name might have seemed to Jesus a fitting place to launch his message that Roman rule was about to end and that God’s sovereignty would soon be established over all the earth.7
From the vantage point of an impressive fourth-century white synagogue, we can today look down on to the pavement of an earlier first-century black basalt synagogue that Jesus may have frequented with his followers at Capernaum. There he may have studied and commented on Torah. It was in Capernaum, too, that Jesus gathered together a core group of twelve main followers. These were named by Matthew as follows: Simon Peter; Simon Peter’s brother Andrew; James and John, the sons of Zebedee; Philip; Bartholomew; Thomas; Matthew; James; Thaddaeus (Judas); Simon; and Judas Iscariot (Matthew 10:2—4). The “James, Judas [not Judas Iscariot] and Simon” mentioned here may, in fact, have been three of his brothers.8 Many of his disciples came from the immediate region.
There were others associated with Jesus’ entourage, women as well as men. Mary Magdalene, for instance, hailed from the nearby town of Magdala only a short distance to the west, well within a day’s journey by foot. From time to time we hear of many more followers than just the twelve disciples. At one point, we learn that he sent out seventy emissaries on an urgent mission. Who they were and whether they were part of some permanent infrastructure is not known.
Together with this core group of twelve individuals, he embarked on missions throughout the Galilee. This was no easy endeavor. Thirteen people had to be provided for on a daily basis—food, shelter, and clothing. How did these individuals get along? Did they have squabbles? Who did the shopping? Who cooked? What did they eat? Did they live together, as a commune, or did they live separately in the same village, congregating from time to time? Did they work, or were they like some contemporary ultraorthodox Jews who devote their lives to study and prayer while others do the work and raise the money? How did they decide where to go? Did they have access to the ancient writings—scrolls of the Torah, the Prophets and the Writings? If so, who provided these? How were they studied? We don’t know the answer to these lifestyle questions. Some of the disciples appear to have been married, and perhaps they had children to look after.9
More importantly, who funded the movement? Thirteen people moving about through Galilee, perhaps over a three-year period, represented a major financial undertaking. This mission cost a lot of money: food, shelter, and transportation were just some of the expense categories.
In a little observed passage in Luke,10 we find the following:
The twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources. (Luke 8:1—3)
So there we have the answer: wealthy women were the financiers. They underwrote the movement, chiefly Mary Magdalene, Joanna (who had strong political connections), and Susanna, among “many others.” But how did they do that? What sources of revenue did they have? Who was Mary Magdalene, and how did she come to have such funds?11 Unfortunately the records are silent on these matters.
Jesus observed the Sabbath and the annual round of Jewish festivals, including Succoth and Passover. He went into synagogues, participated in the services there, and taught. This is just what we’d expect a Jewish rabbi to do. His “last supper” occurred just before Passover, either the first evening of Passover or the night before. This was held at the home of an unnamed follower in Jerusalem, with his inner circle of followers gathered around the table. We are familiar with this scene from Da Vinci’s famous painting The Last Supper, but this portrait is very misleading. It shows only thirteen people present, Jesus and the twelve disciples. Undoubtedly there were many more people present at this festive meal than just Jesus and the twelve. Who cooked? Who prepared the traditional fare? Certainly his host was present and his family. Mary Magdalene was undoubtedly there. Probably also his mother. Likely his brothers. The wives of his married disciples. Undoubtedly some youngsters. And probably many more besides. If it did take place during Passover, it would have been a crowded, noisy affair, with conversation, laughter, storytelling, anecdotes, lots of good food and relaxation—not the sedate, highly structured pose that Da Vinci painted.
Jesus never converted to another religion. Nor did he start one. If he were to return, he’d probably be amazed—perhaps bewildered or possibly even angry—at what has been created in his name.
Toward the end of his life, this inspiring teacher traveled up to Jerusalem. There he was betrayed by one of his followers, Judas Iscariot, who turned him over to the Romans. Why he did so is a matter for speculation.12 Perhaps Judas was a Zealot who had become disillusioned with Jesus’ lack of proactivity in overthrowing Roman rule by violent means. Now that they were in Jerusalem, Judas probably reasoned, why hadn’t Jesus started his divinely sanctioned campaign? What was the delay? Why were the Romans still in charge? Perhaps he wanted to force Jesus’ hand, to prompt him to act immediately. Or maybe he felt let down by someone who seemed to him to be all talk and no action. Perhaps that is why Judas handed him over to the Roman authorities. Or as the recently discovered Gospel of Judas suggests, perhaps Jesus himself invited Judas to turn him in—which would have probably also been an attempt to hasten the advent of the promised Kingdom that his imprisonment might precipitate.
We don’t know Judas’s motivation, but whatever it was, Jesus was quickly condemned to death. He was executed by crucifixion in Jerusalem around 30 or slightly later by the Romans and mocked for being “the King of the Jews” (Matthew 27:37). The charges were political: Jesus was condemned for being a claimant to the throne of David. The Romans clearly recognized the enormous political thrust of his message. They saw the explosive implications of what he said.
His brother, James, carried on the family leadership as head of the Jesus Movement until he was killed in 62. After him, Jesus’ cousin,13 Simeon, became bishop or head of the movement in Jerusalem. He survived until the early years of the second century when the emperor Trajan had him crucified.14
So, what was so Jewish about Jesus? Well, everything.
We really need to pause for a moment and ponder what this means. What does it mean to visualize Jesus as “really” Jewish? Too often we pay only lip service to this fact and perhaps see him only through the eyes of some particular Christian denomination, imagining him in our minds as a Catholic priest, Baptist preacher, or Methodist minister. We should perhaps picture him growing up as having a close-knit family, stopping work on the day of rest, welcoming the Sabbath through the Friday evening meal that his mother and sisters likely prepared. Good food, song, prayer on Friday evening led by his father as they followed the time-honored traditions of their ancestors, along with every other household in Nazareth. We would see him going to synagogue and participating annually in the great Jewish festivals such as Passover and Succoth. He would have read from the ancient Hebrew texts, worn a tallit (prayer shawl) when praying, strapped on tefillin (arm- and headbands), and had a mezuzah on the doorpost of his house.
We need to see him later on as a rabbi working with devoted students, considering scriptural passages and studying their meaning. In contemporary terms, we should visualize him as much closer to an Orthodox rabbi than a Christian priest or minister.
We have seen that Hellenization challenged the fundamentals of Jewish practice, and that various groups defined themselves in relationship to Torah observance. The Essenes, or Dead Sea Scroll community, were stricter in keeping the law than the Pharisees and certainly the Sadducees. Torah—then and now— was the bulwark against assimilation.
In Matthew, the picture is clear: Jesus practiced and taught strict Torah observance and challenged his followers to do the same. Since most Christians today reject Torah, this crucial aspect of his teaching is completely obscured in Christianity’s liturgy, writings, and sermons. Christians today register complete surprise—and shock—that at least this gospel portrays Jesus as thoroughly Jewish, including what was most central to Jewish life: following the law. Jews have a very different reaction. They express amazement. Here is a Jewish teacher, responsible for Christianity, which does not follow the law, teaching Torah observance. They ask, What went wrong? How could this happen? All very good questions. What, indeed, “went wrong”?
According to the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus encouraged his followers not only to observe Torah, but to do so even more strictly than did the Pharisees. That begins to sound suspiciously like the stance of the Essenes, who denounced the Pharisees for being too soft in their interpretation of the law. But, according to Matthew, Jesus took his view of Torah in a different direction. Let’s see how Matthew describes Jesus’ stance.
For Matthew, Jesus was the new Moses. He stood on the mountain, interpreting the Torah of God. Like the historical Moses on Mount Sinai bringing the tablets of the law down to the people some thirteen centuries earlier, Jesus brought a new understanding of Torah to the people. Nothing Jesus said did away with the necessity for keeping the law. Rather the reverse was true: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished” (Matthew 5:17—18). This passage is fundamental, for here Jesus acknowledged the binding authority of Torah regulations. It cannot easily be dismissed. Not one stroke of a letter of Torah was to be abolished until “all is accomplished.” In this he was consistent with Jewish tradition and the entire Old Testament.
Did Jesus actually stand on a mountain in the Galilee and preach this sermon? Some contemporary American Evangelicals think so and are building a “theme park” in northern Israel near the Sea of Galilee on a hill selected as “the mount.” Or was this an image constructed by the writer of the Gospel of Matthew to fit his message that Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophecy? Scholars usually prefer the latter approach, as stage directions fitting Matthew’s agenda of showing the importance of Jesus as an interpreter of Torah, like a Moses. For Matthew, however, Jesus was more important than Moses: he was an active interpreter of the law, not just its passive recipient, as Moses had been.
In case we missed the point, Jesus drove home the real importance of this message. Those who break the commandments or teach others to do so, he said, “will be called least in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:19). In Matthew’s day, only the Christ Movement stemming from Paul’s teachings advocated abandoning Torah observance. Matthew’s Jesus may be designed, in part, to correct Paul’s position. Matthew is counteracting what he would have considered Paul’s false teachings, which were gaining in circulation and popularity by the 80’s when he was inscribing his own scroll.
In fact, the point for Matthew’s Jesus was not to replace Torah but to enhance its observance, to abide by its provisions even more scrupulously than did the adherents of other parties within Judaism: “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:20). Thus Jesus was portrayed by Matthew as teaching “the higher righteousness,” or super-Torah-observance.
What is this “higher righteousness”?
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus extended the parameters of the law, and he gave various examples. His move was to stretch the law, to cover underlying attitudes, not just behavior. This did not, of course, do away with the need for right action. It just made the obligation even harder to follow. Jesus’ position was consistent with the outlook of the Book of Deuteronomy— Torah observance included choices, actions, and attitudes—but his halakhah or Torah interpretation was even more rigorous.15
One of the important commandments was “not to murder.” Jesus stretched this law to embrace not only the act of murdering someone, but also not being angry at other human beings (Matthew 5:22). Overt action is extended to an underlying attitude that could give way to hostile behavior. This in no way replaced the injunction not to murder—Torah still applies—but now it included not being angry at people. Thus Torah was not diminished or abolished. It was, in fact, augmented.
The way of higher righteousness was more demanding that just doing what the law required. The law now covered circumstances not entirely envisaged in the original commandment. Thus “do not murder” was extended to “don’t even be angry,” because the latter could lead to the former. Even insults were ruled out since these could incite murder. All these prohibitions encouraged a Torah-observant lifestyle, avoiding attitudes and conditions that would place one in danger of violating the law.
Matthew’s Jesus was consistent with Pharisaic practice, that of “building a fence” or “hedge” around the law. If the commandment was not to murder, then, Jesus says, do not even be angry. That extension to underlying attitude has the effect of creating a buffer zone. Avoiding anger represents a good first step in avoiding behavior likely to lead to murder.
Similarly, Jesus enhanced the commandment “not to engage in adultery” to include mental attitudes: do not lust after other people (Matthew 5:28). According to Jesus, the mere act of thinking about or imagining adultery was as much a violation of the commandment as the action of actually committing adultery. This is a much tougher requirement. The point Jesus made is that one kind of activity (thinking about adultery) could lead to another activity (committing adultery). And so, again, a fence is erected around the biblical injunction.
Another commandment was “not to swear falsely,” in other words, to tell the truth when we speak. Jesus extended this requirement by prohibiting the uttering of any oaths (Matthew 5:33—37). A simple yes or no should suffice. So Jesus would not countenance swearing “on the Bible” or “on your mother’s life” or saying “cross your heart and hope to die.” A simple declaration should be adequate.
Regulations in Deuteronomy required that the husband give his divorced wife “a certificate of divorce” (Deuteronomy 24:1—4). The matter of marital breakup had been debated in the generation before Jesus. The issue had to do with the circumstances under which divorce was permissible. Shortly before Jesus, Hillel had adopted a lenient approach, saying that a man might divorce his wife for any reason, even if she had spoiled his dinner. For Hillel, divorce was terribly simple. The opposing School of Shammai, however, adopted a stricter interpretation, saying that divorce was not permissible unless there was some “indecency” on the part of the spouse—perhaps unfaithfulness or some other marital impropriety.
Jesus adopted a strict line of interpretation, comparable to Shammai’s. Divorce was only permitted in the case of a wife being unchaste. But he then added an important zinger: there was to be no remarriage for a divorced female (Matthew 5:31, 32). Again, the interpretive direction was one of much greater rigor—stricter, as it turns out, than either Shammai or the more liberal Hillel.
Nothing, though, was said about the male and his behavior. One often-quoted law from the Torah is “eye for eye, tooth for tooth” (Exodus 21:24). This has frequently been misinterpreted as a cry for revenge, although it really states a principle of equitable justice. “Eye” is a metaphor for any kind of injury. The point of this catchy saying is that the penalty for a crime should not exceed the damage caused, so no “going overboard” when it comes to setting punishments. Do not, for instance, exact “two eyes” when only “one eye” has been damaged.
Jesus suggested, instead, that those who commit evil should not be resisted (Matthew 5:38—42). This is tantamount to affirming not even one eye in exchange for an eye, a very difficult commandment to follow. In its most literal form, it could mean lying down in the face of evil or oppression, even in self-defense—extreme passivity in the face of moral evil. In its original context with Romans occupying the land of Israel, it could be interpreted as simply letting them rule and not resisting them with military force. This saying would also have caused considerable consternation among a segment of his closest followers who looked to him to overthrow the Romans and establish the Jewish state and the Kingdom of God.
Jesus went on to observe that some people have said, “you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.”16 He rejected the second half of this phrase, maintaining, instead, that enemies should be loved and people should pray for those who persecute them. This may have been one of Jesus’ most difficult sayings for the people of his time, for “neighbor” included the Romans. How then were the hated occupiers to be overthrown? How does this relate to Jesus’ message about the coming Kingdom of God that would soon replace the Pax Romana (the Roman Peace)?
Jesus participated in the great Jewish debates of his time—how to keep Torah faithfully—and he commented on Sabbath observances, healings, and work. What was meant, for instance, by “not to do any work” (Exodus 20:10) was an open question at the time. All Jewish groups agreed that the Sabbath should be observed and sanctified. The Torah required this. The law in the Book of Exodus linked remembrance of the Sabbath to the very structure of creation, citing as the reason for its observance God’s resting after the work of creation (Exodus 20:8—11). By sanctifying the Sabbath, then, humans share in a process honored by God: creative work, then rest.
Deuteronomy provides a different rationale from that given in the Book of Exodus, linking the observance of the Sabbath not to creation but to the experience of freedom from enslavement in Egypt (Deuteronomy 5:12—15). So, in this version, the Sabbath commemorates divine redemption, coming out of a life of hard toil and oppression into one of liberation. Still other passages remind the Israelites to keep the Sabbath “as a perpetual covenant” and as a “sign forever between me and the people of Israel” (Exodus 31:16, 17).
So it is clear that the Sabbath is to be observed. That is the objective: it represents a joyous celebration of time, a gift from God, a time marking one day a week as special. The crucial question, however, was how to honor the Sabbath day. What strategies existed for achieving this unique objective?
The written text of the Bible does not explicitly indicate how this special day is to be sanctified by not working. There were clues, however, and Jewish leaders began to notice the specific word used for work and its associated contexts within the writings of the Books of the Law (or the five Books of the Torah).
It should be noted that “work prohibited on the Sabbath” (in Hebrew, melakhah) does not describe the same set of activities as that covered by the English word work. For us, work suggests physical effort, exertion, or the kind of activities we engage in at our place of employment. That’s not what is meant by work in this context.
In time, Judaism came to embrace thirty-nine categories of work forbidden on the Sabbath (Mishnah, Shabbat 7:2). These categories of work come from an interpretation of Exodus 31:1—17 and Exodus 35:1—39:43. The rabbis noticed that the word for “work prohibited on the Sabbath” (melakhah) was the same word for work in the building of the Tabernacle. Moreover, the injunction not to do work on the Sabbath immediately preceded this passage about the kinds of activities involved in building the Tabernacle. These two clues provided the basis for understanding what “work prohibited on the Sabbath” meant. Louis Jacobs notes,
Important though the building of the Tabernacle was, the Sabbath was even more important. It follows, declare the Rabbis, that every activity required for the erection of the Tabernacle constitutes “work” and is forbidden on the Sabbath. On the basis of this, the Rabbis speak of thirty-nine main categories of work—those that were for the purpose of erecting the Tabernacle, and many others resembling them and derived from them.17
These include such activities as sowing, plowing, reaping, grinding, baking, shearing or washing wool, spinning, weaving, tying, tearing, writing, lighting a fire, using a tool such as a hammer, or transporting goods from one place to another (e.g., from one’s house to the outside), and so on, including all their modern equivalents. Thus, driving an automobile on the Sabbath would be ruled out as “lighting a fire.” Similarly, making notes with a pen or pencil, composing e-mails, or working on a computer document would be subsumed under “writing.”
The type of work in question is creative activity, that is, producing, making, manipulating nature, or changing creation. God rested from this kind of work, and humans are instructed to share in this rest. It is not work requiring physical exertion per se. Rather it is any creative activity that changes the status quo. As a result, such activities as cooking, preparing food, washing clothes, making home repairs, writing, working on the computer, starting a fire, fishing, buying, and selling are prohibited. The focus is on accepting the world as it is, without engaging in activities that would change it on that day. This frees up the person to do other kinds of activities, such as reading, contemplating, socializing, enjoying a previously prepared meal, and so on, without having to do or make things.
The extent to which these categories were formally recognized in Jesus’ time is uncertain, but certainly Judaism was headed in the direction of clarifying what was prohibited. Since keeping the Sabbath was an important commandment—it was, after all, included as one of the Ten Commandments— explaining what could or could not be done was imperative. It would be chaotic to leave it up to everybody’s imagination. Some interpretive rules had to be given. We know how one group interpreted the command to keep the Sabbath holy. This was the Dead Sea Scroll community. Their interpretive rules, or halakhah, for the Sabbath included refraining from idle words, loans, business matters, talking about work, walking more than a thousand cubits from the town, eating unprepared food, taking items in or out of a house, lifting an animal out of a pit, spending the Sabbath near Gentiles, or carrying children.18 We do not know how the leaders of this community arrived at this list, but they remarkably anticipated many of the thirty-nine categories found in the Mishnah.19
In all likelihood, most people interpreted “work forbidden on the Sabbath” at the time of Jesus as at least including not using money, cooking, traveling or engaging in commercial activities in general. They would have observed it as a day of rest, eating previously prepared food, going to synagogue, talking, socializing with family and friends, and refraining from physical labor.
In Jewish law, only food that has been prepared ahead of time may be consumed on the Sabbath: no cooking, cutting up of meat or vegetables, grinding grain, or lighting fires. Jesus dealt with the question of work on the Sabbath in the following passage. Note what it says and what it does not say:
At that time Jesus went through the grainfields on the Sabbath; his disciples were hungry, and they began to pluck heads of grain and to eat. When the Pharisees saw it, they said to him “Look, your disciples are doing what is not lawful to do on the Sabbath.” He said to them, “Have you not read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God and ate the bread of the Presence, which it was not lawful for him or his companions to eat, but only for the priests.” (Matthew 12:1—4)
The issue has to do with Sabbath observance, specifically working by harvesting food. As customary, Jesus did not answer the question directly. Rather his response was circuitous.
There is much that is missing from this incident. For one thing, Jesus chose not to deal with the issue of theft—plucking and eating “heads of grain” from a farmer’s field. Did his disciples pay for it? If they hadn’t, then there was a violation of the commandment not to steal. If they had paid for it, then the disciples would have run afoul of another Sabbath requirement, not to engage in commercial transactions on this day. The use of money would constitute a violation of work prohibited on the Sabbath.
Rather Jesus focused on the issue of his disciples harvesting and eating food they had not prepared ahead of time. The disciples were hungry and no one had prepared the Sabbath meal ahead of time. In dealing with this issue, Jesus cited the example of King David a thousand years earlier. David had eaten bread offered to God at the shrine at Nob, which only the priests could eat. However, David’s situation reflected extreme and exceptional circumstances: he and his followers were “on the run” (see 1 Samuel 21:1—6). So Jesus’ answer to the question of whether one could break the Sabbath by harvesting and eating food one has not prepared ahead of time was, “yes, in extreme circumstances.” It does not follow from this exceptionally rare situation— once in a thousand years—that the Sabbath ought generally to be disregarded.
There is much more missing from the incident. The passage does not indicate how Jesus’ rationale applied to the specific case. That is, it does not tell us the specific “extreme circumstances” that would have permitted his followers to raid the farmer’s field on the Sabbath. Why did they require food desperately? Were they, like David, fleeing for their lives? Why had they not prepared for the Sabbath ahead of time? What made this incident “exceptional”?
Regardless of the answers to these important questions, the teaching was clear: the Sabbath was to be observed and remembered. Only in exceptional circumstances could it be broken. This is certainly not an endorsement of the view that the Sabbath should be disregarded completely. This important boundary marker between Jew and non-Jew in Hellenistic times was maintained by Jesus.
In another instance, while in a synagogue, Jesus healed on the Sabbath and was questioned about this:
He left that place and entered their synagogue; a man was there with a withered hand, and they asked him, “Is it lawful to cure on the Sabbath?” so that they might accuse him. He said to them, “Suppose one of you has only one sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath; will you not lay hold of it and lift it out? How much more valuable is a human being than a sheep! So it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.” (Matthew 12:9—12)
Again there is a lot missing from this account and again the answer seems disconnected from the question. The passage, for example, does not indicate how the analogy of a sheep falling into a pit fits the example of healing a person with a withered hand. A sheep falling into a pit represents suffering and a possible life-threatening situation. Without quick action, the sheep would suffer and likely die. In these extreme and exceptional life-threatening circumstances, it was agreed that Sabbath requirements could be set aside to come to the assistance of people or animals in serious trouble.20 The situation of the man with a withered hand, however, would seem not to fit the example. Presumably his healing could wait one day. This might explain why Jesus’ opponents wished to accuse him. If it had been a clear-cut life-threatening case, they would have had no grounds for criticism.
So while the principle of exceptional circumstances did not fit the specific situation of a person with a withered hand, it did indicate that there were situations requiring forbidden work on the Sabbath. In this, Jesus agreed with other Jewish leaders of his time (and subsequently) that life-threatening situations require appropriate action. So, to the question, could one heal a person on the Sabbath? Jesus’ answer was “yes… if life is jeopardized.” In neither instance, however, were Sabbath laws set aside. The general injunction not to do work forbidden on the Sabbath was interpreted compassionately in such a way as to allow for exceptional circumstances.
A Pharisaic lawyer encountered Jesus and posed the question, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is greatest?” (Matthew 22:36). In reply, Jesus quoted Deuteronomy 6:4—5, the Shema: “Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might”. This was immediately paired with Leviticus 18:19, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The Gospel of Matthew omitted the lawyer’s response, but we find that the earlier Gospel of Mark has provided the balance of this exchange. The lawyer agreed with Jesus, adding that this summary of Torah was more important than the laws pertaining to offerings and sacrifices in the Temple. Jesus complimented him, adding that he was “not far from the kingdom of God” (Mark 12:28—34). If these commandments were “the greatest,” then it is not surprising that they were more important than the laws regarding Temple sacrifices and offerings. This did not mean, however, that one should set aside Temple rituals while that establishment was still in existence.
Jesus’ position on this topic is virtually identical to that of the Pharisaic leader Hillel, who lived in Jerusalem just prior to the time of Jesus. As we have seen, Hillel reduced the foundational principle to one: “that which is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor” (Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 31a). Neither Jesus nor Hillel would ever have dreamt that these statements would or could be used to set aside Torah. In Hillel’s case, he prevented this perverse interpretation by urging his questioner to go and study Torah.
These were foundational principles for Torah observance providing for obligations toward God as well as toward other human beings. Citing “the greatest” commandment did not mean that it was “the only” commandment. Derivative laws were not to be set aside or ignored. So Torah remained intact, and, at least as Matthew conveyed the message of Jesus, this represented Jesus’ central teaching.
John the Baptist appears to have held a similar position. Josephus wrote that John the Baptist urged his fellow Jews “to exercise virtue.” By this, Josephus indicated, John the Baptist meant right behavior toward one another as well as piety toward God. While expressed in philosophical language, this dual emphasis is similar to Hillel’s and Jesus’ summaries of the law. John encouraged people to undergo “baptism” for purification as an outward manifestation that the person had already been cleansed by right attitudes and right actions.21 For John, the Torah was the path of right behavior. His response to the threat of Hellenization was to challenge people to rededicate themselves to the law, of which baptism was the symbol. His actions were political as well as religious, for his approach was uncompromisingly set against Hellenization with its easy accommodation toward a common Mediterranean culture. John the Baptist refused to remove the boundary markers.
John’s territory included places only a few miles away from Qumran, the headquarters of the Essenes, or Dead Sea Scroll Community. Was there contact between these two movements not too far distant from one another? Again, there is only speculation in regards to this intriguing question. While both the Essenes and John the Baptist focused on Torah observance, clearly there were differences. John’s movement was a popular one, reaching out to ordinary people in an attempt to reorient them toward God and the covenant. The Dead Sea Scroll community was reclusive.
Higher righteousness was Jesus’ contribution to the application of Torah, extending actions to include behavior in a way that is more explicit—and more extensive—than the Book of Deuteronomy. That book placed choice, obligations, and attitude within the parameters of Torah. There was no suggestion that Jesus attempted to do away with or replace Torah by anything else. That would have created an immense outcry—from other Jewish leaders, from his family, and from his cousin John the Baptist. There was no evidence that anything of the sort ever occurred. In the context of the time, it would have been regarded as a major shift toward assimilation into Hellenistic culture, a policy that would have reminded everyone of the policies of Antiochus Epiphanes. That clearly was not Jesus’ teaching or practice. If it had been, his mission would probably not have lasted as long as it did, and we would not know of him today. His execution by the Romans, moreover, had nothing to do with his teachings in regard to Torah observance. Their interests were purely political: was he or was he not a claimant to the Jewish throne?
So, what happened? Why did later Christianity depart from what Jesus clearly taught? For the answer to that question, we will need to investigate, in a later chapter, Paul’s position and its overwhelming impact.
Jesus’ challenge to his audience was straightforward. Be better than the Pharisees, the teachers of Torah. Outdo them in righteousness. Live the covenant with God to the fullest, following the law carefully, paying attention not only to the required conduct but also to the corresponding right attitude. That was an exceptionally demanding requirement. He dared his followers to set the standard.
Jesus’ message reinforced the teachings of Deuteronomy. His merit was that he reminded people in highly dramatic terms just what this meant. Did people sit up and take notice? Did they—the crowds and his disciples—mend their ways and achieve this level of perfection? Unfortunately we do not know, either with Jesus or John the Baptist, what their efforts really amounted to with the masses of people who encountered these two remarkable individuals. We just know that the message was popular and that it was well received.
Jesus was one of the ancient world’s greatest motivational speakers. Like many who hear such engaging figures, the message can be quickly forgotten. It is difficult to sustain enthusiasm for the life-changing insights we hear in the course of a presentation, however inspiring.
But there was more to the teachings of Jesus. Not only did he insist on a higher standard of conduct, but he also promised them something of tremendous value—something that would shake the very foundations of their lives and give them something to look forward to, eagerly. What was that wonderful promise that motivated his audience to live up to his daring challenge?