Author Archives: Michael Pahl

What Does Jesus Hear at His Baptism?

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Today is Epiphany, the day set aside on the church calendar for celebrating the revelation of Jesus to Israel and the world at his birth and baptism. This post is adapted from my sermon this past Sunday on Jesus’ baptism.

Carracci - Baptism of ChristWhen Jesus hears the voice from heaven—God’s voice to him—saying, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased,” what does Jesus hear? Embedded in this divine message to Jesus are echoes of two very different biblical statements.

The first echo is from Psalm 2. This is a Psalm that was understood in Jesus’ day as messianic—pointing forward to the coming Messiah, the promised King in the line of David. The Psalm itself was possibly a royal coronation song, sung as each successive descendant of David ascended the throne in ancient Israel. It speaks of the Lord’s “anointed”—YHWH’s “messiah”—which referred to the new king being crowned. It describes how God sets up his “anointed,” the king, on Mount Zion in Jerusalem, from where the king will rule over God’s people in anticipation of God’s coming reign over the whole earth.

And in the middle of this Psalm you have these words: “I will tell of the decree of the Lord: He said to me, ‘You are my son; today I have begotten you.’”

This is God’s benediction over each successive king in Israel, anticipating the coming Messiah who would reign over the earth. It is God’s decree affirming the king’s special status: “You are my son,” the Son of God.

This is the first thing Jesus would have heard in the voice from heaven: this baptism was his anointing as Messianic King. God was doing for Jesus what he had done for all the kings of ancient Israel, what he was to do for the promised Messiah: declaring that this one was the rightful king of Israel, the one who would bring in God’s kingdom on earth.

But there’s another Scripture passage Jesus would also have heard in the voice from heaven: Isaiah 42. Isaiah 42 is one of four passages in Isaiah called the “Servant Songs,” because they speak of God’s “servant” who was to accomplish God’s purposes for Israel. The thing is, this “servant” accomplishes God’s purposes by suffering and even dying on behalf of God’s people—he is a “suffering servant” (Isa 42:1-4; 49:1-6; 50:4-9; 52:13-53:12).

The very first of these “Servant Songs” is Isaiah 42, and it opens with these words: “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.”

This is the second thing Jesus would have heard in the voice from heaven: this baptism was his appointment as Suffering Servant. And, as promised in Isaiah, the Spirit of God comes upon him—but as a dove, a symbol of humility, of peace, and like the dove of Noah’s ark fame, a sign of new creation.

Jesus had come to John to be baptized by him “to fulfill all righteousness,” Matthew’s Gospel says—in other words, to be a faithful Israelite, to fully identify with God’s people. But God had more in store for Jesus: at the moment of his baptism, God gave Jesus a vision of who Jesus truly was, what Jesus was called to do, and how much this would cost Jesus.

Farrant - Jesus' BaptismThis was a very personal event for Jesus—none of the Gospels says others present saw or heard anything, only Jesus and John the Baptist. I actually think this vision was the first moment when Jesus had a real inkling as to what God wanted of him. And this is why the first Christians started their basic Gospel story of Jesus with this event: it’s the moment when Jesus gets his orders from heaven, it’s the moment when Jesus hears God say, “This is your mission, should you choose to accept it.”

This is the moment in which Jesus is anointed by God to take up his calling to be the Messiah, to bring in God’s kingdom of justice and peace through his own self-giving, suffering love.

All that waiting—Israel longing for a Messiah, the world yearning for a Saviour, all creation groaning in anticipation of renewal and restoration.

All that waiting—and here comes the one everyone has been waiting for, bringing in God’s kingdom, bringing salvation from our sin, bringing new creation for all things.

All that waiting—yet the result is not what anyone expected, a King who would suffer in weakness, a Saviour who would die in humility, a Redeemer who would give himself to the uttermost in love.

Cross-posted from http://www.mordenmennonitechurch.wordpress.com. © Michael W. Pahl.

Waiting for Jesus

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Timmies DTWe don’t like waiting, do we? Not in our fast-food, instant-access world. We sit in the drive-thru at Tim Hortons, expecting our honey cruller and double-double in two minutes or less, and we can’t even sit aimlessly for that two minutes: we have to pull out our smart phone and check for messages or tweets or Facebook posts. Because, you know, those things can’t wait.

And yet, even in this world we sometimes find ourselves waiting. Really waiting.

Waiting for your grade on that assignment, the one that you put so much work into and you’ve got a lot riding on.

Waiting for your child to come home from that evening event, sitting by the window looking out at the falling snow and icy streets.

Waiting for that news from the doctor that will either bring a glad sigh of relief or plunge you into an anxious round of further tests or treatments.

This is the kind of waiting I mean when I talk about “waiting for Jesus.” Waiting for something really important. Waiting with a touch of anxiety, sometimes even in deep anguish. Waiting with anticipation, but on the knife edge of despair. Waiting for good news, but fearing the worst. Waiting for God.

It’s like we’re sitting in the black dog darkness of a dark winter’s night, the moon hidden from view, the chill piercing our bones, and we’re waiting, waiting, waiting. Looking to the east, looking to the dawn.

This kind of waiting is nothing new. In the bigger scheme of things, this waiting is seen in ancient Israel’s longing for God to act among them, for God’s Messiah to come and bring in God’s kingdom on earth. It’s seen in humanity’s yearning for God to reveal Godself, to bring deliverance from the enemies that plague our human existence: sin and death, the harms we cause and the consequences these bring. It’s seen in creation’s groaning for God to restore all things, to reverse the downward spiral of degradation in our planet due to our harmful actions.

As a church we’ll look at these different ways of “waiting for Jesus” over the next few Sundays of Advent.

But in the midst of these we have our own experiences of “waiting for Jesus.” It’s the kind of personal angst you see in the Psalms, where David cries out, “How long, O Lord?” (Ps 13:1), or where he urges himself to “Wait on the Lord” (Ps 27:14).

How do we “wait on the Lord”? How do we “wait for Jesus” in times like this, times of sickness or brokenness or anxiety or longing? All the gadgets and gizmos and Facebooks and Twitters in the world aren’t going to help with this kind of waiting.

Let me offer a few thoughts.

First, when you find yourself waiting like this, wait in hope. The sun will rise, just as it has every other day. God will come, just as God has always done. The new day might bring something different than you imagined, but it will come. God might act in a way that is not what you expected, but God will come.

Wait in hope. Don’t let the fear overtake you. Work hard to push the fear aside and tune your mind to trust in God. Talk this through with a friend if you need to. Remind yourself of ways God has provided in times past. God will act. The dawn will come.

Wait in hope. Even if you’re waiting days, weeks, months, years. Even for generations. We want the immediate present; God lives in the eternal present.

Rembrandt Woman at PrayerSecond, wait in prayer. Cast your worries upon God. Cry out to God in your anguish, in your despair. Weep before God if you need to, pour out your heart to God, even if it’s in anger or fear. I assure you, God can take it.

Wait in prayer. Discipline yourself to be thankful, to remind yourself before God of the good things you have received at God’s hand. Tune your heart to sing God’s praise, to rejoice before God in God’s great love and faithfulness. Walk with others who cultivate grateful spirits.

But even if all you can pray is, “Lord, have mercy,” wait in prayer.

Finally, while you wait, prepare. When we’re waiting for the Lord, we need to prepare for the Lord to come—the perennial Advent cry of John the Baptist. Here’s where the idea of repentance comes in: “repentance” has the idea of “changing your mind” about something, changing the way you think about something and then living differently because of that.

So while you wait, prepare. Take stock of where you’re at. Step away from the hustle and bustle of life and turn your gaze on your own heart and mind, your deep-seated attitudes and gut-wrenching feelings. Examine the way you are treating others, the way you are living. And repent: change your perspective where needed, and then start living out that changed perspective.

Wait in hope. Wait in prayer. And while you wait, prepare.

Then, when Jesus comes—and he will come—you’ll be ready.

Cross-posted from http://www.mordenmennonitechurch.wordpress.com. © Michael W. Pahl.

Taking the Bible Seriously

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“The Bible is clear on this. You’re not taking the Bible seriously.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. It was about ten years ago, and the man had come to see me with questions about my view on women’s roles in church leadership. Or maybe it was the age of the earth, or the timing of Jesus’ return, or the Church’s obligation to the poor, or Christian participation in the military, I’m really not sure. I do remember the look in his eye, though, the tone in his voice.

He leaned forward.

“You don’t believe the Bible.”

Both my eyebrows were now up. I sighed, audibly.

Really? I thought. I don’t take the Bible seriously? I’m spending thousands of dollars and several years writing a 200-page doctoral dissertation on a three-word Greek phrase in 1 Thessalonians 4:15, and I don’t take the Bible seriously?

I don’t believe the Bible, really? I’ve given most of my adult life to studying the Bible in order to know God and discern God’s will and help others do the same, and I don’t believe the Bible?

“I can assure you, my good man, that I do believe the Bible, and I take it with utmost seriousness.”

No, I didn’t say that, though I like to think that I did (in my best English accent).

I can’t really remember how I responded, just as I can’t recall the specific topic. But I do remember these accusations. They’re hard to forget, because this was the same conversation in which I was firmly labeled a “liberal”—and that’s memorable, because in that same week someone else called me a “fundamentalist.”

Go figure.

Yes, it’s true that my view on women’s roles has changed over the years, from a complementarian to a full egalitarian view. Yes, it’s true that my view on the earth’s age has changed, and my view on the “end times,” and non-violence, and matters of social justice, and probably dozens of other theological and ethical hot potatoes.

But here’s the thing: each of these changes has been prompted in large part if not entirely by my study of the Bible.

Take my changed views on women’s roles in church ministry, for example.

Gutenberg BibleI read Judges’ description of Deborah’s leadership in ancient Israel. I read Luke’s description of Jesus’ encouragement of women disciples. I read John’s description of Mary’s apostle-esque commission, and Paul’s description of Phoebe the deaconess and Junia the apostle, and 2 John’s description of the “chosen lady’s” church leadership. And I began to see that there’s more to the story of women’s ministry roles than just the situation-specific prohibitions of female leadership in 1 Corinthians 14 and 1 Timothy 2.

Or take my changed perspective on young-earth creationism.

I read Genesis 1 and 2 carefully, even literally. I found one creation story that speaks of creation in six “days” and a second creation story that speaks of creation in one “day.” I noted that in the first story three days are already marked before the sun and moon are even created to “mark” the days. I saw that these two stories use different names for God, talk about God’s creative role in different ways, describe events in different orders, and more. And I began to think that these stories are concerned about something other than exactly when and how God created all things.

Here’s my point: my views on these things didn’t change because I stopped taking the Bible seriously. They didn’t change because I was trying to accommodate the prevailing culture, or because I succumbed to some liberal agenda, or because I was affected by some spiritual malaise.

My views have changed precisely because I have taken the Bible seriously, reading the Bible carefully, in context, and across both Testaments.

I have to confess, I have at times thought back to that “you’re not taking the Bible seriously” conversation, and I’ve thought to myself, “It wasn’t me that wasn’t taking the Bible seriously—it was him!” But then I catch myself. The man in my office that day was taking the Bible seriously—he was just interpreting it differently than I did. Wrongly, I still think, but I certainly can’t accuse him of not taking the Bible seriously.

And I remind myself that this is another necessary, if difficult, part of taking the Bible seriously: taking seriously the fact that this God-inspired collection of ancient human writings has generated an astonishing variety of interpretations and theologies over the centuries—most of which have been attempting to take the Bible seriously.

May we be slow to accuse other Christians of being “unbiblical,” of “not taking the Bible seriously,” of “not believing the Bible.” Instead, may we be quick to listen to each other, willing to be challenged afresh by the Bible’s stories and teachings, ready to learn and grow and change, seeking to follow Jesus more faithfully in love.

Then it can truly be said that we are taking the Bible seriously.

For some related thoughts on this, check out my post on “When Everyone’s Biblical and We All Disagree.” Cross-posted from http://www.mordenmennonitechurch.wordpress.com. © Michael W. Pahl.

“Turn the Other Cheek” ≠ “Be a Doormat”

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This past Sunday I taught our adult Sunday Study class. As always, it turned into a wide-ranging discussion only remotely connected to the topic, in which we noted and immediately solved all the world’s problems. (Just kidding, of course. It took us at least 45 minutes to solve them all.)

Turn Other CheekOne of the things that came up along the way was Jesus’ famous “turn the other cheek” command. It was suggested that maybe this and other commands like it are for an ideal, future “kingdom of God” and aren’t expected to work in the real world right now. Or, maybe these sorts of commands are simply for our individual relationships and not for our wider social relationships.

“Turn the other cheek.” Yep, it’s a hard one. It seems utterly unrealistic, unworkable in the real world of playground bullies or abusive spouses or oppressive regimes or violent extremists.

Here’s the text from Matthew’s Gospel:

You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. (Matt 5:38-41)

This is immediately followed by another seemingly impossible command:

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous…Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. (Matt 5:43-48)

What do we do with these commands? Is it true that they’re just for our individual relationships, or maybe that they’re simply for some time down the road, when God’s eternal kingdom comes to fruition?

To the idea that these commands are not intended for the real world right now, we have to say an unequivocal “No.” At least, that’s not the way Matthew sees them. The Sermon on the Mount concludes with Jesus’ emphatic declaration that he expects his followers to “hear these words of mine and act on them” (Matt 7:24-29), and the Gospel as a whole concludes with Jesus’ call for his followers to make disciples who will “obey everything that I have commanded you” (Matt 28:18-20). Everything. Even the hard bits.

But there’s something else from these teachings themselves that suggests these are not simply for some ideal “heavenly kingdom”: in that ideal kingdom there would be no need for these commands, because no one would strike you on the cheek to begin with. In fact, these commands of Jesus only make sense at the place where the kingdom of God collides with the kingdoms of this world. These commands only make sense in a world where there are oppressive enemies and violent retribution—clashing with a new world in which there are no enemies and there is no vengeance.

How would Jesus’ first disciples have heard these words? Who were their “enemies” who struck their cheeks or made them give up their cloaks or forced them to walk a mile? Probably, as time passed, there were several “enemies” who could be named. But for those first Jesus-followers the “enemies” that would have immediately come to mind were the Romans.

The Romans. Seen by many (by no means all) first-century Jews as godless oppressors, Gentile dogs trampling on God’s holy people all over God’s holy turf. And the immediate, flesh-and-blood symbol of this imperial oppression? The Roman soldier, with the power to knock heads and commandeer cloaks and force burden-bearing marches.

Suddenly Jesus’ commands here take on new meaning. “Turn the other cheek”? “Love your enemies”? This isn’t for some idealized future, nor is it just for our everyday relationships. This is about a clash of empires, a collision of kingdoms, two worlds coming head-to-head—and affecting all our real-world right-now relationships, from individuals to families to communities to societies to nation-states.

Think about this: if someone in a position of power over you “strikes you on the right cheek,” what are your options?

One option is to fight back, to strike them on the cheek, to go all “eye for eye” on them—but they have all that raw power behind them, and this is only going to get ugly fast. Violence, even “justified violence,” always, inevitably, begets violence—on you, on them, on innocent others.

A second option is to back away in abject submission, to be a “doormat.” This is what people typically think Jesus means here—just take your licks and accept your lot in life. But just as Jesus does not say, “If someone strikes you on the cheek, strike them back,” so also Jesus does not say, “If someone strikes you on the cheek, bow down to them in subjection.”

No, Jesus commands a third way, a way that is neither the “return evil with evil” way nor the “passively submit to evil” way. Jesus commands his followers to stand up with dignity, look the oppressor in the eye, and challenge them to expose their injustice and inhumanity by inflicting another gratuitous blow.

In other words, Jesus advocates what Walter Wink calls “defiant vulnerability,” or what Tom Yoder Neufeld perhaps better calls “creative non-violent resistance”: “creative” because giving the extra garment or walking the extra mile are outside the normal rules of enemy engagement (Killing Enmity, 25). Glen Stassen and David Gushee go even further, saying Jesus’ commands here are “transforming initiatives”: they “take a nonviolent initiative that confronts injustice and initiates the possibility of reconciliation” (Kingdom Ethics, 139).

Creative, transforming, non-violent resistance. Just like all those in recent history who, inspired to various degrees by Jesus’ life and teachings, initiated some of the most momentous changes ever seen toward more just societies: Mahatma Gandhi in British colonial India; Martin Luther King, Jr. in the Jim Crow-era southern United States; Lech Wałęsa and Karol Józef Wojtyła (later Pope John Paul II) in Soviet Communist Poland; post-imprisonment Nelson Mandela under South Africa’s Apartheid.

It’s counter-intuitive, for sure. But contrary to popular opinion, “redemptive violence” is a myth while “turn the other cheek”—rightly understood—actually works.

It’s important to get this right. This is not a command to an abused wife that she should just stay with her husband and submissively accept the blows, whether physical or otherwise. This is not a command to terrorized Iraqi Christians that they should just accept what’s happening to them as God’s will. This is not a command to the boy being bullied after school that he should just take the black eye and slink away in fear. These kinds of things are most emphatically not what Jesus is saying here.

Rembrandt Christ on the CrossIt’s helpful to look to Jesus’ own example. It is clear in Matthew’s Gospel that the many things Jesus commands his followers to do in the Sermon on the Mount, he demonstrates for them as he goes to the cross. Turn the other cheek? Check. Love your enemies? Check. Pray for your persecutors? Check.

But here’s the thing: Jesus does not do these things for himself, but for others. For all the “poor in spirit” who are in “mourning,” for the “meek” who “hunger and thirst for justice” (Matt 5:3-6), Jesus steps into their place as “merciful peacemaker,” “persecuted for justice’s sake” (Matt 5:7-11).

Jesus becomes the champion of the oppressed, taking the blow aimed at them, standing up for them with dignity, looking the oppressor in the eye and exposing their injustice and inhumanity with every gratuitous blow—and this becomes the spark for true justice and lasting peace and flourishing life.

This is what the bullied child, the abused spouse, the oppressed people, need. They need a champion. And not a champion who will strike back blow for blow, and just make the problem worse. They need a champion who will stand up to their oppressor on their behalf, who will expose the oppressor’s injustice and inhumanity and initiate the process toward justice and peace and new life, whatever the cost.

So how do we “turn the other cheek”? Not by being a “doormat,” passively submitting to violence or oppression or abuse over and over again, spiraling downward until all involved are de-humanized and eventually destroyed.

We “turn the other cheek” with creative, transforming, non-violent resistance in the footsteps of Jesus—which means imagining and enacting ways to expose evil and injustice which maintain our dignity, which do not demonize our “enemies” but instead show compassion toward them, and which open the door to possibilities of reconciliation and a better future.

We “turn the other cheek” with creative, transforming, non-violent resistance in the footsteps of Jesus—on our own behalf if there is no one else to take up our cause, and certainly on behalf of others who are beaten down and need a champion.

None of this makes Jesus’ commands to “Turn the other cheek” and “Love your enemies” any easier. If anything it makes them harder—because it commits us to not just speak of justice, not just pray for justice, but to actually step out and work for justice.

Maybe I should go back to solving the world’s problems with my Sunday school class. This “walking in the way of Jesus” thing is way too convicting, way too challenging, way too hard. Kind of like walking on a really narrow way…

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A special note for abused spouses and children… Please hear this clearly: You are under no obligation to remain with your abusive partner or parent. “Turn the other cheek” does not mean that, neither does “Wives, submit to your husbands” or “Children, respect your parents,” and if someone tells you otherwise they are wrong. Contact an organization like Genesis House that can provide advice and shelter for you and initiate the process of healing for you and any others involved. I know this is easy to say and hard to do, and if you are unable to take this step then I pray you will know God’s sufficient grace through your suffering and God’s power through your weakness—and that you will again consider taking this step if the abuse continues.

© Michael W. Pahl

Christians and Israel (3) – God’s Kingdom is for All Peoples

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This series is adapted from a sermon I preached on August 3, 2014, “What should we think about Israel?” See here for part one, “Describing the Crisis,” and here for part two, “Modern Israel is not Biblical Israel.” Follow the links throughout for sources and more information.

In the last post I claimed that modern Israel is not the heir to the biblical promises to ancient Israel. That claim is controversial among some Christians, to be sure, but I trust that my claim in this post will not be. At least, it shouldn’t be controversial, but all too often it seems that Christians act as if they don’t really believe it.

Here’s my second claim: as followers of Jesus seeking first God’s kingdom and God’s justice we are called to seek the good of all peoples, including both Israelis and Palestinians equally.

Jesus teaches us that we are to “seek first God’s kingdom and God’s justice” (Matt 6:33). This is a call to allegiance: Jesus is saying that our allegiance to God’s kingdom and God’s way of justice stands over and above our allegiance to any earthly kingdom or any worldly way of justice.

And God’s kingdom transcends borders, it transcends our geographical and political boundaries, it embraces our ethnic and cultural differences. God’s kingdom includes all peoples equally: every tribe, every nation, even all creation. To believe otherwise is, to be frank, not just un-Mennonite, it’s un-Christian—it is even anti-Christ, in opposition to Jesus and the global and cosmic scope of his reconciling work (e.g. Col 1:13-23; Rev 7:9-17).

So when Jesus calls us to “seek first God’s kingdom and God’s justice,” he is calling us to give our allegiance to the reign of God that transcends national borders and includes all peoples, and to seek justice for all within God’s shalom.

This means that we are called to seek the good of all peoples, including both Israelis and Palestinians, both Jews and Muslims.

This means that we are called to denounce violence wherever it is found, whether in Hamas rockets killing a 4-year old Israeli boy playing in the living room of his kibbutz home or in Israeli missiles killing Palestinian children playing soccer on the beach.

This means that we are called to put a spotlight on injustice and oppression, those situations where there is an imbalance of power leading to an abuse of power—as there certainly is in Israel taking over land in the West Bank for Israeli settlements, or in Israel’s disproportionate response to the horrific murders perpetrated by Hamas on October 7, 2023 (and no, the “human shields” argument doesn’t hold water).

1054px-Israel-Palestine_peaceThis means that we are called always to strive for the things that make for peace. There are many average Israelis and average Palestinians who do not want war, who want to share the land and live in peace. There are many Palestinians who do not support Hamas and its violent ways. There are many Israelis who oppose Israel’s offensive in Gaza, or even Israel’s settlements in the West Bank. There must be a better way forward, and as citizens of God’s kingdom we must encourage the search for that way, to be peacemakers, true children of God (Matt 5:9).

Christians here in North America don’t help the situation when we blindly support Israel in all its policies. Given the horrible history of antisemitism, there is good reason for supporting an Israeli state that makes special provision for citizenship of ethnic Jews. But there is no good biblical or historical basis for seeing modern Israel as the rightful heir to the land. And, in any case, our ultimate allegiance is not to any nation state on earth, but to God’s kingdom and God’s justice—and thus we must seek the good of all peoples, including both Israelis and Palestinians equally.

I invite you to conclude this series the way we concluded the original sermon on which the series is based: by praying the Lord’s Prayer, reflecting on it as a prayer for all people.

Our Father in heaven, in whose image all people have been created, hallowed be your name. May Your kingdom come, your will be done, your kingdom without borders, your will for justice and peace, on earth as it is in heaven…

Amen. Come, O Lord.

For some other Anabaptist perspectives and initiatives related to Israel and Palestine, check out these websites: Mennonite Church Canada Palestine Israel Network – Mennonite Palestine Israel Network – Community Peacemaker Teams.

© Michael W. Pahl

Christians and Israel (2) – Modern Israel is not Biblical Israel

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This series is adapted from a sermon I preached on August 3, 2014, “What should we think about Israel?” See here for part one, “Describing the Crisis,” below for part three, “God’s Kingdom is for All Peoples.” Follow the links throughout for sources and more information.

As Christians, how should we think about Israel? That’s the question I’m considering in this series. I’m not attempting to solve the Palestinian crisis or give a sure-fire plan for Mideast peace. Rather, I want to walk through a few thoughts that should shape the way we as Christians think about Israel and Palestine.

Last post I introduced the problem with a quick sketch of the origins and history of modern Israel and the Palestinian crisis. In the next two posts I’ll make two claims. First, the modern nation state of Israel is not the heir of God’s promises to ancient Israel. And second, as followers of Jesus seeking first God’s kingdom and God’s justice we are called to seek the good of all peoples, including both Israelis and Palestinians equally.

Let’s start with the first claim: the modern nation state of Israel is not the heir of God’s promises to ancient Israel.

I know it’s tempting to think it is. It is true that there are some strong promises made to Israel in the Old Testament, promises which are reiterated in one way or another in the New Testament (see especially Rom 9:4-5 and 11:28-29). And it is true that modern Israel was founded to be a home for the Jewish people, a safe haven from antisemitic oppression—quite an amazing story, to be sure, after Hitler’s attempted genocide of the Jews.

But the modern nation state of Israel is not the heir of God’s promises to ancient Israel—and here are a couple of reasons why.

First, it is simply wrong to equate modern Israel with ancient Israel—they are two different things entirely. Ancient Israel was a theocratic monarchy in covenant with God,* a covenant centered on the Torah, the Law of Moses. Modern Israel, while making special provision for Jewish citizenship and drawing on Jewish ideals and values, claims (or at least aims) to be a secular liberal democracy. It makes no official claim to be in a divine covenant and does not have the Torah as the basis of its laws.

Just as many people equate “Palestinian” with “Muslim,” so many people equate “Israeli” with “Jewish.” Both equations are false. As for the “Palestinian = Muslim” equation, there is in fact a small but significant Palestinian Christian community. And as for the “Israeli = Jewish” equation, the ethnic and religious demographics of Israel are much more complex than this. Around 20% of Israelis are Arab, most of those practicing Muslims, and over 40% of Jewish Israelis identify themselves as “secular Jews”—Jews by ethnicity only, not by religion.

It was ancient Israel, a theocratic, tribalistic society that became a monarchy, that God brought into covenant with himself through Moses. I’m glad that the modern nation of Israel strives to be a liberal democracy, but that in itself means it is not the equivalent of ancient Israel.

But even if modern Israel could be equated with ancient Israel, it still would not be appropriate for Christians to consider modern Israel to be the heir of God’s promises to ancient Israel—because the New Testament itself suggests otherwise. Let me sketch out some of this biblical theology with a special focus on the Apostle Paul’s angle on things, since he’s got the most to say on the question among New Testament authors. Significantly, Paul was also steeped in Jewish rabbinic traditions, and remained a faithful Jew throughout his life.

800px-Schnorr_von_Carolsfeld_Bibel_in_Bildern_1860_024The promises to ancient Israel go back to Abraham. According to Genesis 12, repeated and expanded in Genesis 15 and 17, God makes a two-part promise to Abraham: first, God promises to bless Abraham with many descendants, and with provision and protection and land—yes, land—for him and his descendants; and second, God promises to bless all the peoples of the earth through Abraham and his descendants.

Both parts of this promise are crucial, and they point to an important biblical pattern: God blesses the few in order to bring blessing to the many. God can even bless just one person—Abraham, David, Jesus—in order to bring blessing to all people. God never blesses people simply so they can hoard it to themselves, so they can have privileged status with God or before others. God blesses people so that through them God can bless others.

This idea is repeated in the next big covenant God makes, the covenant with Israel given through Moses. This is the covenant that created ancient Israel as a nation. In this covenant God repeats the same promises to Abraham—God will bless Israel with people, protection, provision, and land—yes, still land—and they are in turn to be a blessing to the nations around them. This is the idea behind God calling them “a holy nation and a royal priesthood” as he covenants with them (Exod 19:3-6): they are separated out from the nations and specially blessed by God, in order to be like priests for the nations, mediating God’s blessing to the world.

But this covenant through Moses had one important difference from the covenant with Abraham: it was conditional. With Abraham God just gave a straight up promise: God says, “I will do these things,” period. With Israel God put a condition on the promises: if Israel obeys God’s law, then God will do these things (go back and read Exod 19:5). Abraham’s promise was unconditional, Israel’s was conditional on their obedience.

And, according to ancient Israel’s own prophets, Israel broke the covenant (e.g. Jer 11:1-13; cf. Deut 31:16-21). They disobeyed God’s law, they committed idolatry and injustice and more. And so, as the biblical story goes, they were sent into exile, to Assyria and Babylon and beyond.

God, though, remained faithful to Israel even through their unfaithfulness—and promised a new covenant (e.g. Jer 31:31-34; Ezek 16:59-63). This new covenant would be like the covenant through Moses in that it would fulfill the promises to Abraham. But this new covenant would not be like the covenant through Moses in one important respect: it would not be conditional on Israel’s obedience but it would be based solely on God’s love and faithfulness.

Rembrandt Christ ResurrectedMany of the New Testament writings pick up on this new covenant motif, and they all insist that Jesus is the one who brings in this new covenant. To use Paul’s language, Jesus is the descendant (the “seed,” Gal 3:16) of Abraham who fulfills the promises God gave to Abraham, blessing for Abraham’s descendants and blessing for all the peoples of the earth. But here’s the kicker: it turns out the descendants of Abraham include the peoples of the earth, the Gentiles.

For Paul, this is the way that God’s promise to Abraham is fulfilled: through Jesus the Jewish Messiah both Jews and Gentiles (non-Jews) can be children of Abraham and heirs of the promises to Abraham. Take a look at a few excerpts from Paul:

  • Romans 9:6-8: “Not all Israelites truly belong to Israel, and not all of Abraham’s children are his true descendants; but ‘It is through Isaac that descendants shall be named for you.’ This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as descendants.”
  • Galatians 3:28-29: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.”
  • Ephesians 2:11-15: “You [Gentiles] were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ…He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two.”

Through Jesus God’s promises to Abraham are fulfilled: the blessing given to the few is extended to all. And the Jews are indeed especially blessed by God (Rom 9:4-5). But through Jesus God is making a new humanity that does not divide between “us” and “them,” a new humanity that together receives the fulfillment of God’s promises to Abraham.

And this includes the promise of “land.” It is a curious thing that, while the New Testament refers to Abraham and the Abrahamic promises many times, the specific promise of “land” is never explicitly mentioned. Scholars have long scratched their heads at this, but in light of Paul’s broader perspective this seems to be the most likely reason: the land promise is like the rest of the promise to Abraham—it has been fulfilled in Christ, and is seen in the blessing given to the nations. In other words, the land the children of Abraham receive, all those who believe whether Jew or Gentile, is not just a strip of land on the Mediterranean Sea, but the whole earth.

To put this yet another way, the fulfillment of the land promise to Abraham through Christ is really a return to God’s original purpose for humanity: all of us, created in God’s image, extending God’s kingdom of love and faithfulness throughout the whole earth (Gen 1:26-28).

Which brings us directly to my second claim, and my next post.

See here for part three, “God’s Kingdom is for All Peoples.”

*Though I use the generic “God” here and elsewhere, for Jews this is the Divine Name revealed to Moses in Exodus 3. The Divine Name reflects God as the One in covenant with the Jewish people.

© Michael W. Pahl

Christians and Israel (1) – Describing the Crisis

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This series is adapted from a sermon I preached on August 3, 2014, “What should we think about Israel?” See below for part two, “Modern Israel is not Biblical Israel.” Follow the links throughout for sources and more information.

It’s interesting watching my social media feeds whenever Israel is in the news, which seems to be nearly always. I have Christian friends on social media who are decidedly pro-Israel—they cheer every move Israel makes and applaud Canada when it “stands with Israel,” and they boo western media and Canadian politicians that dare to criticize Israel. For them, Israel can do no wrong: Israel is a modern miracle, the fulfillment of biblical promises, God’s holy nation with a divine right to the land they’re in.

589px-Israeli_and_Palestinian_FlagsBut then I have Christian friends on social media who just don’t follow the same script. They speak of “Israel-Palestine,” or sometimes just “Palestine,” and only rarely “Israel.” They advocate for Palestinian refugees and speak out against Israeli settlement on Palestinian lands. They highlight the Palestinian casualties in Gaza and downplay Israeli losses. They cringe when Canada stands uncritically with Israel. For them, Israel is just another nation—and an unjust one, at that.

As Christians, how should we think about Israel?

There are no simple answers to this question. It’s complicated—and contentious. What I offer here is my own perspective as an expert in biblical theology and an admitted non-expert in Middle East politics. As I note at the beginning of each post, I encourage you to click through the links to dig into things in more detail—and to think through all this for yourself.

Let’s start with some history.

The Palestinian crisis—like many of the conflicts in our world today—has its roots in a global event over a century ago: the First World War. The so-called “War to End All War” was in fact the war that spawned a century of wars (and counting).

Before World War I much of the Middle East was part of the Ottoman Empire, ruled from Turkey. The war saw the end of that centuries-old empire, and the result for the Middle East was extreme instability. All the victorious nations came together to create the League of Nations, the forerunner to the United Nations, and the United Kingdom was given charge of the land of Palestine. Included in this charge was this mandate: to establish “a national home for the Jewish people, it being clearly understood that nothing should be done which might prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine.”

Meanwhile, over in Europe, Germany was left demoralized after the war. Strong voices spoke out from the rubble with brash promises of Germany’s rise to prominence once again. The strongest of these voices? Adolf Hitler and his National Socialist German Workers’ Party—the Nazis. By 1933, a mere 15 years after the First World War, Hitler was in power and Nazi policies were made law and implemented with frightening speed.

KZ Auschwitz, Ankunft ungarischer JudenThis, of course, led directly to World War II. Once the smoke had cleared after this next global war, the world was horrified at what Hitler had done: eleven million “undesirables” killed in Hitler’s Holocaust, including over six million Jews. This led to a sudden increase in sympathy for the Jewish people and their plight, which in turn added fuel to a Zionism that had been growing for decades.

It was this precise mix of ingredients—the instability of the Middle East in the twilight of the British Empire, the horror of the Holocaust under Hitler’s Nazi Germany, and Zionist dreams of an independent Jewish state—that led to the creation of the modern state of Israel in 1948.

The land of Palestine, however, was to be shared. Up until World War II there were a few Jewish settlements in Palestine—at the beginning of the war less than 30% of the total population living on about 5% of the land. It was mostly inhabited, though rather sparsely, by native Palestinians: Arabs who had lived for centuries under the Ottoman Empire, mostly Muslim though some were Christian. Under the plan proposed after the war, Jews who had been without a state of their own for centuries were given roughly half of the land of Palestine, and hundreds of thousands began to stream there from around the world. The other half was for the native Palestinians, but involved the displacement of some from their home regions.

Israel-Palestine Map

Though maps such as this are not without problems in bias (scale, labeling, etc.), they do give a good rough portrait of land ownership changes in Palestine over the past 100 years.

Newly-formed Israel agreed to the land partition but the surrounding Arab nations did not, and immediately war broke out. Between 1948 and 1967, Israel took as spoils of war another roughly 25% of the land of Palestine, displacing hundreds of thousands of native Palestinians, their descendants still refugees today. (Such forced displacement happened both ways, by the way, as hundreds of thousands of Jews fled Arab nations to Israel.) And since 1967, Israel has unilaterally settled thousands of Israelis within that one-quarter of the land that is still Palestinian. Today, most Palestinians in the land live in the tiny sliver along the Mediterranean coast that is Gaza, or in the West Bank on the eastern side of Israel.

To put it mildly, the land is disputed. And solutions are thin on the ground.

Once again, as Christians, what are we to make of this? How should we think about Israel? More on that in the next post.

See here for part two, “Modern Israel is not Biblical Israel.”

© Michael W. Pahl

The Lord’s Prayer for All People

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Tissot - Lord's PrayerOur Father in heaven,
in whose image
all people have been created,
hallowed be your name.

Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
your kingdom without borders,
your will for justice and peace,
on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread,
all of us throughout the world,
just what we need,
just when we need it,
grace to give when we have more,
grace to receive when we have less.

Forgive us our sins,
each of us, both us and them,
as we forgive those who sin against us,
every one, neighbour and enemy.

Save us all—but especially the vulnerable—
from the time of trial,
the sufferings of this life,
and deliver us all—but especially the innocent—
from the evil
that plagues our world.

For the kingdom, the power,
and the glory are yours
—not ours, never ours—
now and for ever. Amen.

——————————————–

See also my later post on “The Lord’s Prayer.”

© Michael W. Pahl

“From sea to sea”: On Canada, the Church, and the Kingdom of God

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This post is adapted from my sermon this past Sunday. It was prompted by the reading from Zechariah 9:9-12 in light of both Canada Day and the Mennonite Church Canada Assembly this past week.

A mari usque ad mare. “From sea to sea.”

That’s Canada’s motto, a symbol of our national unity from the Atlantic to the Pacific to the Arctic.

Canada Flag 2Most Canadians probably know the motto, but they might not know it comes from Psalm 72. It’s a psalm that was likely part of the coronation liturgy of ancient Israel. It’s a prayer for each new king in David’s dynasty, expressing all the hopes and dreams of the people of Israel with each successive king:

Give the king your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to a king’s son.
May he judge your people with righteousness,
and your poor with justice.
May the mountains yield prosperity for the people,
and the hills, in righteousness.
May he defend the cause of the poor of the people,
give deliverance to the needy,
and crush the oppressor.
May he live while the sun endures,
and as long as the moon, throughout all generations.
May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass,
like showers that water the earth.
In his days may righteousness flourish
and peace abound, until the moon is no more.
May he have dominion from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth… (Ps 72:1-8)

It’s quite the prayer, whether for ancient Israel or for twenty-first century Canada. In fact, ancient Israel and modern Canada have a few things in common: both relatively young nations in their eras, both small nations in the shadow of giants, both with big dreams for a glorious future.

While most Canadians might know our nation’s motto, and some might know its biblical origins, I suspect very few are aware that it also comes up in a later biblical book, in a much different setting.

The book is Zechariah, and in Zechariah’s day things were not at all like they used to be. Israel has been divided and conquered, their grand hopes for the future crushed. The people have been cast into exile, and a few have just recently returned from that exile to re-build Jerusalem’s walls and temple.

In many ways this ragged band of Jewish returnees felt much like many Christians feel in Canada today: the glory days are behind us, the days of a sanctuary bursting at the seams, bustling with worshipers and filled with choirs. Like the old-timers in Zechariah’s day who remembered the original temple of Solomon, many among us today remember the old days, and weep (Ezra 3:12).

But here’s what Zechariah does: he takes this ancient song of Israel’s kings and uses it as a powerful symbol of hope for the future:

Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim
and the war-horse from Jerusalem;
and the battle bow shall be cut off,
and he shall command peace to the nations;
his dominion shall be from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth. (Zech 9:9-10)

One day, Zechariah promises, God will come again among his people. One day there will again be an anointed king of Israel who will fulfill those ancient hopes. One day the prayer of Psalm 72 will be answered.

Jesus is this king. So we as Christians believe. The prayer of Psalm 72, the promised answer to that prayer in Zechariah 9—these are fulfilled in Jesus.

Jesus is the world’s true Lord and King. Jesus has come to bring justice to the world and peace on earth, the full shalom of God. Jesus has come to bring flourishing life to all God’s creation: a healing of wounds, a restoration of brokenness, a very reversal of death. Jesus is this promised king, who brings in God’s promised kingdom, God’s will done on earth as it is in heaven.

This is what the New Testament means when it declares that “Jesus is the Christ,” the Messiah, or “Jesus is the Son of God.” This is what it means when it proclaims that “Jesus is Lord.” This is what the gospel is all about, “the gospel of the kingdom” or “the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

But while God’s kingdom will come on earth, this kingdom is not “of this world” (John 18:36). It’s not like any kingdom this world has ever seen, unlike any nation on earth. It operates by a different set of rules, values that are upside-down compared to the values of earthly realms.

God’s kingdom is a realm where the last are first, the least are feasted, the lost are found.

God’s kingdom is a realm where the poor are richly blessed, where the sick are freely healed, where the outcasts are at the center.

God’s kingdom is a realm where enemies are loved as neighbours, where neighbours are loved as ourselves, where our selves are denied for the sake of others.

God’s kingdom is a realm where the king is a servant who suffers in love, and that sets the agenda for everything else.

But God’s kingdom is also a realm where real life is found, resurrection life, through that self-giving love.

God’s kingdom is a realm where parties break out when the lost are found, where banquets are laid out for the last and the least.

God’s kingdom is a realm where water for ceremony is turned into wine for celebration.

God’s kingdom is a realm where the whole world is invited: from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth, Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, slave and free, men and women and children of every tribe and nation.

In fact, God’s kingdom is not any nation at all, nor any organization. It’s a perpetual grassroots movement, starting with a ragged band of followers: a tiny seed that grows into a world-shading tree. God’s kingdom is the dynamic reign of God, the Creator God ruling over all creation in love and faithfulness, bringing justice and peace and flourishing life.

MC Canada doveWhat does this all have to do with Canada’s future, and with the future of the church in Canada? Just this: our hope for the future lies in Jesus, the one who truly answers the Psalmist’s prayer and fulfills Zechariah’s expectation, the one who has truly been given all authority from sea to sea.

Our hope for the future does not lie in any nation, even one as glorious and free as Canada—may God keep it so. Should Canada fade from history, should the world map be radically re-drawn, God’s kingdom would remain. Jesus would still be Lord.

The kingdom of God cannot be identified with any nation. A nation can reflect kingdom values to a greater or lesser degree, but no nation is the kingdom of God.

God’s kingdom is bigger than any nation—it has no borders, in fact it breaks down borders of geography and race, economics and social status. God’s kingdom is outside the power structures we create, our governments, our laws, our law enforcement, judicial system—because however good those things may be, they are inevitably abused and corrupted, always in danger of supporting systemic evil.

God’s kingdom is among us as people, not among us as a nation.

Our hope for the future does not lie in any church organization, whether globally or nationally or regionally—or even us locally. Should Mennonite Church Canada or Manitoba be dissolved, should Morden Mennonite Church cease to be, God’s kingdom would remain. Jesus would still be Lord.

The church is not the kingdom of God.

The church is called to be a witness to God’s kingdom, a signpost of the kingdom, pointing people to God’s dream for the world. Local churches like Morden Mennonite are to be a kind of outpost of God’s kingdom on earth, nurturing the upside-down values of the kingdom, a test plot showing what the kingdom of God can be like.

But God’s kingdom is bigger than any local church, broader than any particular denomination—it encompasses the world.

Our hope for the future lies with Jesus, the world’s true Lord and King. And this means our hope for the future lies in the extent to which we follow the way of Jesus, the way of God’s kingdom.

Do we truly want to follow the way of Jesus, the way of God’s kingdom? Do we really want to seek first God’s kingdom and God’s justice? Then let’s count the cost. Let’s ask ourselves some hard questions—as a nation, and as a church.

Who are the last and the least among us? The vulnerable, the marginalized, those outside our white, middle-class, heterosexual norm? Who are the lost? The doubting, the confused, the spiritually seeking, even the most egregious sinners?

To the extent that we first the last, feast the least, and find the lost, God’s kingdom is among us—as a nation, and as a church.

Who are the poor among us? The needy in our community, the homeless in our cities? Who are the sick? The dying, the mentally ill? Who are the outcasts? The elderly, the lonely, the disabled? The refugees, the immigrants, Indigenous peoples? The convicted criminals, the shamed victims?

To the extent that we richly bless the poor, freely heal the sick, and center ourselves on the outcasts, God’s kingdom is among us—as a nation, and as a church.

Who are our enemies? Our theological enemies, our political enemies, those difficult people who seem to always be against us, those who seek to harm us? Who are our neighbours? The people next door, the people down the street, the people in that other church, the people in that city next door?

To the extent that we love our enemies as neighbours, and love our neighbours as ourselves, denying ourselves for the sake of others, God’s kingdom is among us—as a nation, and as a church.

These things have nothing to do with how many people we have in our pews or how many programs we have in our church. They have nothing to do with how closely our society’s laws parallel our sexual ethics, or how well Canada’s economy is going. These may well be good things, but they are not signs of the kingdom.

Rather, Jesus says the signs of the kingdom are these: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” (Matt 11:5). In other words, the last are first, the least are feasted, the lost are found, enemies and neighbours are loved alike.

To the extent that we do these things as a church and as a nation, God’s kingdom is among us—and Jesus, the world’s true King, reigns from sea to sea to sea, a mari usque ad mare.

May it be so.

© Michael W. Pahl

“My Yoke is Easy” – Really, Jesus?

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“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt 11:28-30).

These words have given comfort to many Christians throughout history: whatever the “burdens,” whatever the cause of “soul weariness,” many have heard in these words of Jesus just what they’ve needed to hear. These words are like Psalm 23: comfort food for the soul, regardless of the situation.

Rembrandt ProdigalBut I have to confess these words are not always a comfort to me. I “come to Jesus” in the midst of my world-weariness, carrying emotional or physical or psychological burdens impossible to bear—and I find no rest. I “take on Jesus’ yoke,” seeking to learn from him, to follow his teachings and example—and I find there’s nothing easy about it. And what about all those Christians through history and around the world who have endured hardship after hardship for following Jesus?

Sometimes I hear these words, and I want to say, “Really, Jesus?”

It helps to understand these words in their context. That helps because it gives us some realistic expectations of what Jesus actually promises.

The image of the “yoke,” of course, refers to the way an ox would have a yoke placed on them in order to harness them to a plough—it brings to mind submission and obedience. Later Rabbis referred to students of the Law taking up the “yoke of the Torah”—committing themselves to studying the Law of Moses, to submit to it and obey it.

This metaphor was around well before Jesus’ time, though. Two centuries earlier another Jesus, Jesus ben Sirach, called on his readers to seek wisdom through studying the Torah: “Draw near to me, you who are uneducated…Acquire wisdom for yourselves without money. Put your neck under her yoke, and let your souls receive instruction; it is to be found close by” (Sirach 51:23-26).

Jesus’ “yoke,” then, is his particular teaching of Torah, and Matthew is contrasting Jesus’ teaching with the teaching of others.

Matthew’s story continues with some of Jesus’ well-known “Sabbath controversies”: Jesus lets his disciples pick grain on the Sabbath, and then Jesus heals a man with a deformed hand on the Sabbath. This, of course, gets Jesus in trouble with the Pharisees, who have strict and precise views on what should and should not be done on the Sabbath. Jesus responds with some direct challenges to their Sabbath teaching: Jesus, the self-giving “Son of Humanity,” is the “Lord of the Sabbath,” and the Sabbath—God’s blessed rest—is about divine mercy, not human judgment (12:1-14).

Now back to Jesus’ comforting words. Jesus promises true Sabbath, God’s blessed rest, to all who take up the yoke of his teaching. This doesn’t mean that following Jesus’ teachings is easy, or that we will never have difficulties in this world—he’s just promised his disciples persecution and rejection (Matt 10:16-39), and his beatitudes have set the stage for a life of hardship and grief (Matt 5:3-12). This doesn’t even mean that we will always have “inner peace” through it all, though we can always trust in God to provide for us even through the difficulties (Matt 6:25-34; 10:26-31).

What Jesus’ promise of rest means is this: following Jesus in the way of Jesus frees you from the burdens of strict and precise ways of righteousness, and the burdens of others’ harsh judgments when you fail to meet those artificial standards.

To put this another way, it means that, like Jesus, we don’t need to dance to the world’s tune: we are free to move to the rhythms of divine mercy, receiving, and giving, God’s welcoming grace. That’s the point of a curious snippet of Jesus’ teaching earlier in the chapter:

“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds” (Matt 11:16-19).

So take up the yoke of Jesus’ teaching—follow Jesus, in the way of Jesus, the way of love—and you will find God’s true Sabbath rest, free in God’s mercy to give and receive God’s welcoming grace along with all who need it, even those who least deserve it.

Yes, really.

Cross-posted from http://www.mordenmennonitechurch.wordpress.com. © Michael W. Pahl.