First-Century Israel/Twenty-First-Century Church

            I made a comment on Facebook that generated more responses than most of my posts do. I said, “The more I read the Gospels, the more I see how comparable first century Judaism is to 21st century Christianity.”

            The comment was provoked when my devotions had me reading Matthew 7-9. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” (NIV ‘84; Matthew 7:13-14). The saying seems to address a deep issue that afflicted first-century Israel, namely, presumption, or perhaps better said, an arrogance born of their election. They rightly took pride in their election as God’s holy people. Consider Paul’s encomium to Israel in Romans 9! “Theirs is the adoption as sons; theirs the divine glory, the covenants, the receiving of the law, the temple worship and the promises. Theirs are the patriarchs, and from them is traced the human ancestry of Christ, who is God over all, forever praised! Amen” (NIV ’84; Romans 9:4-5). But rightful pride often grows to arrogance and presumption and Israel seems to have fallen into that trap, especially considering their attitude towards the Gentiles. When you start taking your election as making you qualitatively better than others, then you’ve forgotten that your election is by grace, too.

            I make two connections to the contemporary American church. First, I’m always struck by this set of statistics. Even with recent losses, between 70-80% of Americans self-identify as Christians (depending who’s doing the counting). However, only about 20% of Americans are actually in church any given weekend. So, there’s a claim—a presumption—to the name Christian, but not much practice behind it. I call it cultural Christianity. It’s like a person saying, “I know I’m not Hindu or Muslim, so I guess I must be Christian.” In that vision of Christianity, the measure is often, “I’m a good person,” and “good” is defined by the values of the culture. (In our era, “good” usually means some variation on “tolerant” or “accepting.”) If that’s not the broad way, I don’t know what is.

            Second, there’s sure a temptation to feel pretty good about yourself if you’re one of those people who actually does participate in religious activities on anything like a regular basis. It’s not in Matthew, but it’s in Luke—the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, in which the Pharisee says, “I’m sure glad I’m not like everyone else!” (See Luke 18.) That's a too-easy presumption that loses sight of the grace of God, too.

            Then, reading on, I bumped into Jesus’ saying that the Pharisees should go and “learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice’” (Matthew 9:13; repeated again in Matthew 12:7). Now we all know that there were Sadducees and Pharisees in Israel in Jesus’ day; there was also a group called the Essenes. (The Essenes don’t appear in the New Testament, but the Jewish-Roman historian Josephus tells us about them.) What these three groups had in common and what kept them apart was the question, “Who’s really a Jew?” On the one hand, everyone who was born a Jew was a Jew. On the other hand, some Jews were faithful and others weren’t. So, there was lively debate about who was faithful enough. That’s why the Pharisees made such a big deal about circumcision, dietary laws, Sabbath observation, and ceremonial cleanness. These practices served as badges that demonstrated that one was a serious and faithful (and seriously faithful) Jew. (The Essenes, for their part, were even stricter about their observations and practices.) And there was a lot at stake with this question. When the expert in the law asked Jesus what he must do to inherit a portion in the age to come—a question that Luke specifically says was a test—he is asking, “What do I have to do to be marked as a true Jew worthy of God’s reign?” (See Luke 10.)

            Jesus, of course, regularly tweaked the Pharisees on just this question, purposefully healing on Sabbath, allowing his disciples to pluck grain on the Sabbath, touching lepers and dead bodies, and chiding the Pharisees that they should be more concerned with what comes out of the mouth than with what goes in it.

            Unfortunately, I see a lot of that same kind of thing going on in the church today. As I read Jesus’ words, “I desire mercy not sacrifice,” I got thinking about the way a lot of pastors I know are. I got thinking of the way I once was (and still am, unfortunately). What I mean is this: we pastors spend seem to judge each others' practices pretty harshly, and a lot of times that judgment leads to a certain greater-than-thou attitude. Name the issue and you can see the party lines coalescing. “I use the hymnal liturgies; you don’t. I’m more Lutheran than you.” “I use a lectionary; you don’t. I’m more Lutheran than you.” “I use the one-year lectionary; you don’t…” You get the idea. The Pharisees narrowed the Sadducees’ ideas about what was acceptable for a ‘good Jew.’ The Essenes narrowed the Pharisees’ definitions even more. And then Jesus just blew up their whole world by eating with tax collectors and sinners. I wonder if we should think through that statement a little more, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

            Anyhow, that’s what I was thinking about for those who wondered. There’s a lot more that could be said and probably should be said. And it’s probably more than I should have said, electronic forums being what they are…