The last editorial comment here—“he taught them like someone who has authority, and not like the scribes”—gives us a glimpse of the powerful impression Jesus made on the common people, and probably contains some authentic memory of him.
And they came to Capernaum. And on the Sabbath, Jesus went into the synagogue and taught. And people were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them like someone who has authority, and not like the scribes.
scribes: The class made up of Bible teachers, lawyers, and notaries.
In a larger sense, the scribes are those who have made themselves a cozy den in the religious doctrine of their time. In certain ways they are admirable, and if their lives are decent and generous they deserve much praise. But they are not good teachers of spiritual truth, because they only believe in—they haven’t experienced—God. They don’t realize that all holy texts are provisional, and that the true word of God is the word that has become flesh.
When Jesus spoke, he didn’t need to quote scripture; his own heart was scripture. That is why he could speak with authority.
It is equally true, from a complementary perspective, that everything Jesus said was a commentary on Deuteronomy 6:5 (“Love God with all your heart”), and that everything he did was a commentary on Leviticus 19:18 (“Love your neighbor as yourself”).
On Scripture: Two Dialogues, Two Monologues
1
In December of 1973, six months after I had begun living and practicing with Zen Master Seung Sahn, I went to him and said, “Isn’t it about time I began to learn Sanskrit and Chinese?”
“Why?”
“Well,” I said, “the Buddha’s most profound words are in the Sanskrit and Chinese sutras. Shouldn’t I get as close to them as I can?”
He gave me a look that almost knocked me off my feet. It was one of his withering looks, not for the faint of heart, a mixture of hilarity and disbelief: how had I been his student this long and still not have understood?
Then he said, very slowly, as if to a retarded child, “The ultimate teaching is beyond words. So what good will it do you to get close to the Buddha’s words?”
I gulped. A short, uncomfortable silence. Then he said, “There is only one thing now that is important.”
I didn’t dare ask him what that one thing was.
But I knew.
2
According to Jeremiah (31:33ff.), God says of the End of Days (which is always occurring, if we let it), “I have put my truth in your innermost mind, and I have written it in your heart. No longer does a man need to teach his brother about God. For all of you know Me, from the most ignorant to the most learned, from the poorest to the most powerful.”
3
The Buddha said, “A man walking along a highroad sees a great river, its near bank dangerous and frightening, its far bank safe. He collects sticks and foliage, makes a raft, paddles across the river, and reaches the other shore. Now suppose that, after he reaches the other shore, he takes the raft and puts it on his head and walks with it on his head wherever he goes. Would he be using the raft in an appropriate way? No; a reasonable man will realize that the raft has been very useful to him in crossing the river and arriving safely on the other shore, but that once he has arrived, it is proper to leave the raft behind and walk on without it. This is using the raft appropriately.
“In the same way, all truths should be used to cross over; they should not be held on to once you have arrived. You should let go of even the most profound insight or the most wholesome teaching; all the more so, unwholesome teachings.”
4
The great Zen Master Kuei-shan asked his student Yang-shan (who was to become an equally great teacher), “In the forty volumes of the Nirvana Sutra, how many words come from the Buddha and how many from demons?”
Yang-shan said, “They are all demons’ words.”
Kuei-shan said, “From now on, no one will be able to pull the wool over your eyes!”
source: Mark 1:21f.