Appendix D
The Miracles of Jesus
In the third week of Advent, Jesus refers to his ‘mighty deeds,’ e.g., his miraculous healing powers, to answer the question posed to him by John the Baptist’s followers, “Are you he who is to come, or shall we look for another?” (Matthew 11:2-6).
Jesus’ miracles are a problem for many modern people, and they were an embarrassment for many early Christians. That is why I think it is worth spending some time on the issue apart from the meditations on the weekly scripture readings. None of the earliest followers of Jesus, nor even his opponents, expressed any doubt that he performed numerous miraculous healings, as well as other wonders such as the feeding of the five thousand (Matthew 14:13-21, par.). This unanimity of those closest to Jesus in time and space is solid evidence that Jesus was able to perform miracles.
Indeed, for the earliest followers of Jesus, the miracles are an essential part of the story. Over a century of critical historical biblical research into the oral literary stages through which the contents of the gospels passed before reaching their current form has revealed that the miracles are an integral part of the earliest layers of narrative tradition about Jesus, according to the The New Jerome Bible Commentary, (NJBC), p. 1371.
Before going further, we need to ask: what is a miracle? The New Dictionary of Theology (NDoT), p. 661ff., defines a miracle as an astounding event because it involves a breach of the usual natural order. St. Augustine’s more modest definition has found acceptance among many modern scholars, viz. an occurrence which is contrary to what is known of nature (see Interpreting the Miracles, by R. H. Fuller, p. 8).
The advantage of Augustine’s definition is its scientific and theological humility. Our scientific knowledge of nature has grown since biblical times but is still incomplete and is continues to grow. This definition equips us theologically to surrender belief in a particular miracle should we discover it is after all a natural occurrence.
Yet even with this definition, miracles, at first blush, are offensive to any modern Western person because our model of reality is based on empirical scientific presuppositions. In 1748 David Hume penned a famous line that well summarizes this modern skeptical attitude toward miracles:
No testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavors to establish. (Quoted in NDoT p.662)
Since the time of Hume, however, scientific observation has backed away from claiming that the laws of nature are always and everywhere inviolable. In the sub-atomic world of quantum mechanics, the ordinary laws of physics do not hold up. Randomness, and therefore genuine novelty, appear to be built into the universe as it really is, at least at the sub-atomic level. It is not as though the sub-atomic world is ‘a world apart’ form our own, however; it affects us even though we cannot see it—just as God does!
At least in part because of the quantum world, we cannot, it appears, achieve 100 percent certainty about many phenomena even in our everyday reality. Mystery, that is “unknowableness,” is a part of the world we live in. Of course, it is a tiny part of a world that is largely governed by the laws of nature. But there is an infinite difference between 100 percent certainty and a certainty of 99.999 percent!
While this clears the way for the possibility of the miraculous, even as we maintain our humble adherence to scientific reason, it certainly does not establish that Jesus performed the miracles attributed to him. In order to get to the heart of the matter, we need to explore the profound connection, affirmed by all the gospels, between faith and the ‘mighty deeds’ of Jesus.
The most important example of the unity between faith and the miraculous is Jesus’ resurrection. Not everyone who lived in Jerusalem and Galilee experienced the risen Lord, but only those who had faith. I agree with St. Paul that followers of Jesus must believe in his resurrection. “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins….If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all men most to be pitied.” (I Cor 15:17,19)
For those who already have faith in the resurrection, Jesus’ miracles therefore pose less of a problem than for those who do not yet believe. Because we already believe in the foundational miracle of Christian faith, the other miracles performed during Jesus’ lifetime are easier for us. In addition, we already grasp the connection between faith and the miraculous. The miracles can never prove Jesus is the Son of God and compel faith. This puts the cart before the horse.
It is rather faith that allows us to experience miracles. The Jesus of the gospels always regards faith as a free decision that cannot be compelled by force or “evidence.”
Moreover, Jesus himself usually makes the connection between his miracle healings and the faith of the one he heals. He even says that his miracles are not primarily his doing but are caused more by the faith of the person healed. For example, he tells the woman with the hemorrhage who secretly touched his garment, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” (Matthew 9:22)
At other times, the faith may lie not primarily with the person being healed, but the friends or family of the person who is healed. This was the case for the paralytic carried to Jesus by four friends, who, because of the crowds, had to climb up to the roof and cut a hole in it to let down the pallet so Jesus could heal him (Mark 2:1-12). “And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘My son, your sins are forgiven.’”
Miracles are caused by faith, and the converse is also true: when there is no faith, miracle cures do not happen. He was unable to do many mighty deeds in his own country, “because of their unbelief.” (Matthew 13:58). This embarrassing admission, found in Mark as well, adds a tremendous amount of credibility to the accounts of the mighty deeds Jesus did perform. How awkward that the people who knew Jesus the best, had little faith in him! It is still more embarrassing that because of this, he was unable to do many might deeds. The admission reveals that the gospel writers did not worry that Jesus’s credibility hinged on his being a miracle-worker. On the contrary, his miracles depended upon the faith people placed in him.
If the gospel writers based their view that Jesus was the Son of God primarily on his miraculous power, they would have good reason to suppress this embarrassing failure. Jesus’ loss of miraculous power in his home region also shows that his miracles were dependent on his immanent worldly relationships with people, rather than some totally transcendent supernatural, superhuman force. To my mind it answers George Bernard Shaw’s critique:
…who is not Christian enough to feel that conjuror’s tricks are, on the part of a god, just what cheating at cards is on the part of a man, and that the whole value of the Incarnation…depends on whether, when the Word became flesh, it played the game instead of cheating, is no Christian at all. (NDoT, p. 663)
Shaw falsely assumes that Jesus used miracles to cause or even compel faith. But as I argued above, the truth is precisely the opposite: miracles don’t create faith—faith creates miracles. Moreover, Jesus is consistently shown as refusing to perform miracles to show off his power (Matthew 4:5-7; 12:38-42; Luke 23:6-12; Mark 8:11-13; 15:31-32).
Just as faith is necessary for most miracles, Jesus himself insists even the greatest of wonders cannot compel faith. He tells a parable in which the punchline is, “If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.” (Luke 16: 31).
In the gospels we discover that just as not everyone who hears Jesus’ parables takes them to heart, not everyone who sees his mighty deeds is convinced he is revealing the glory of God’s kingdom.
Faith is even more intimately bound up with miracles than we have so far seen. We have been speaking about how the faith of those experiencing the miracle is necessary for the miracle to occur. But the Gospels tells us faith is also essential for the person performing the miracle.
In Matthew 17: 14ff Jesus’s disciples fail to heal a man’s epileptic son, so the father begs Jesus to cast out the demon. After Jesus does so, his disciples ask him why they couldn’t cast out the demon:
He said to them, “Because of your little faith. For truly, I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move hence to yonder place,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible to you.”
This passage also shows that the source of Jesus’ miracles is not Jesus’ deity, but rather his faith. In fact, as I argued in Appendix B, Jesus’ divinity is perhaps best revealed by his extraordinary faith. He is clearly telling us here that we can perform miracles just as he does if we have his kind of faith. Since we lack his deity, it follows that faith, not Jesus’ divine nature, is the source of miracles.
In fact, Jesus goes one step further in John 14:12, as he promises his disciples that “he who believes in me will also do the works I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father.”
Now we are in position to answer another question that certainly troubles us moderns: why don’t we see any miracles nowadays? If Jesus were here, I bet he would say: because of our lack of faith. Another answer is that miracles do still occur. You cannot become an officially recognized saint in the Catholic Church unless you have performed two verifiable miracles. New saints are recognized all the time.
I would add a third point. While I have not experienced firsthand any miracles that defy the laws of nature, I have experienced miracles that defy the laws of human nature. This happens daily whenever someone forgives unspeakable acts of violence, abuse or injustice. Faith in Jesus is itself a miracle.
We could also expand our definition of miracles to “the wondrous.” Nature is filled with so many wonders! I am astounded that I plant a tiny seed that will turn into a huge plant. Jesus referred to this natural miracle in his preaching. The human body is a marvelously complex organism; maintaining it in a healthy state is also a miracle. It is a constant battle to maintain a steady internal temperature, a steady state of sugar, salt, hormones, and a myriad of other chemicals. For more information on this, see Walter B. Cannon, The Wisdom of the Body.
We call a miracle something that violates a law of nature. But isn’t it wondrous that we live in a world that is largely governed by laws? We could live in a totally random, chaotic universe. That would be disturbing and an offense to our God-given reason. But we could also live in a world that was rigidly limited by laws, where there was never any novelty at all. How boring that would be!
Instead, we live in a perfect “Goldilocks” world that is essentially intelligible yet leavened with a tantalizing residue of mystery. This is precisely the sort of world that will inspire us to keep trying to learn more about it while we are kept humble by the apparent impossibility of knowing everything.
Miracles, we have seen, are intimately connected to the theological virtue of faith. They are also tied to the theological virtue of hope. I would say a miracle is a “sacrament of hope.”
This brings us to the most important question of all when it comes to miracles. What do the miracles mean? Why did Jesus do them?
A sacrament is “a sign that causes what is signifies,” according to St. Thomas (Summa III, Q62, a.1). Jesus’ miracles are often called “signs” in the gospels, many times in a negative sense, as when Jewish leaders demanded he perform signs so they could believe—a demand Jesus always refused. A sign points to something other than itself.
Miracles are a sign of eschatological fulfillment, when there will be no more disease at all, no death, nor suffering. This was one of the primary reasons Jesus performed miracles.
Jesus’ mission was to announce the arrival of God’s Kingdom on earth and the end of Satan’s rule. Miracles were Jesus’ chief weapon in this struggle with Satan (NJBC p. 1372). Expelling demons is one of the most obvious ways to reveal the end of Satan’s dominion. (Matthew 8:28-34; 12:24-29). The cure of sickness, raising the dead, and calming storms are also signs of God’s power over the demonic.
Seen this way, Jesus’ preaching is of a piece with his mighty deeds. Commanding forgiveness and love of enemies is certainly a critical way to destroy the power of Satan to destroy relationships. So is Jesus’ refusal of violence. So, too, is Jesus’ healing of disease and casting out demons.
Of course, we still have disease, sin, suffering and death. All the people Jesus cured eventually got sick and died. We still live in a world of suffering, disease and injustice The fullness of the Kingdom has not yet arrived; for that we must await the Second Coming.
But miracles also cause here and now, in a limited way, the ultimate fulfillment to which they point. They give us something tangible and concrete to ground our hope right now, even as we are aware that we live in the “between time,” as we await the fulfillment that will only come with Jesus’ Second Coming and our resurrection.
The hope of the gospel empowers us to act to build the Kingdom now, strengthened with the confidence that we know we, not the demons, are on the winning side. Miracles are the sacrament of this hope. This hope can inspire us to work to heal or even abolish disease and to build a more just world. Without hope we can become paralyzed.
Miracles are, finally, an expression of love, the third theological virtue. We take it for granted, so it is worth pointing out, that, with one exception, Jesus never uses a miracle for his own benefit or to harm another. His miracles express his mission to serve others, especially those who are suffering.
The exception is the cursing of the fig tree, Matthew 21:18-19, par. Mark. I have no satisfactory explanation for this out of character performance of Jesus. I am tempted to suggest it is “the exception that proves the rule.” The strange incident reveals Jesus’ full humanity. It seems he was grouchy because he was hungry and when the fig tree let him down by having no figs, out of pique he cursed it.
That it was recorded at all by is further evidence of the credibility of the gospels: they do not only tell us “happy stories” of Jesus!
Jesus was aware of the danger his miracles posed for potential followers. Some might follow him “only” to be healed, or fed, or to witness more wonders.
We see this most clearly in the Gospel of Mark, where Jesus often seems to perform healings reluctantly, but simply must out of love or compassion for the person suffering. See Mark 1:40ff; 8:22-26; Matthew 14:14; Matthew 20:34. In Mark, Jesus often charges the healed person to keep the cure a secret. When Jesus did cure people in public, he sometimes did so at great risk to himself, as when he cured the man with the withered hand on the Sabbath in the synagogue (Mark 3:1-6, par.). The gospels tell us that after Jesus did this the Pharisees immediately started to figure out how to kill him. Perhaps Jesus’ intention was to challenge the oppressive Sabbath laws.
To conclude, miracles are expressions of the three theological virtues: faith, hope and love—but primarily they are about faith. Miracles continue to occur and are intimately bound up with the life of faith right here and right now. They are not expressions of an outmoded vision of nature, even though our gospel accounts of them were written in a pre-scientific age. Our current scientific knowledge based on quantum mechanics allows for the occurrence of miracles far better than the mechanistic Newtonian physics of the Enlightenment.
Miracles are not a ‘conjurer’s trick’ designed to compel faith, but rather the expression of faith already present. Our faith in Jesus rests on his resurrection and many other graces, not on the wonders he performed during his earthly ministry. The faith we have in Jesus allows us to continue to perform miraculous, mighty deeds.
Appendix E
Jesus and the Wisdom Tradition of Israel
It is often what a person does not say that is most revealing. In our gospels Jesus often quotes Torah, the Psalms and the prophets, but there is but one instance, and only in Luke, when Jesus is recorded as saying something that can be traced to any of the books comprising Israel’s Wisdom tradition (Wt).
The five books comprising the Wt are Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Job, Sirach and the Wisdom of Solomon. The single reference is found at Luke 14:8-90:
When you are invited by any one to a marriage feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest a more eminent man than you be invited by him; and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give place to this man,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place.
Proverbs 25:6-7 offers similar advice. This single reference in a single Gospel, appears so trivial as to qualify for the “exception that proves the rule.” It indicates while Jesus was aware of the Wisdom tradition, he essentially chose to ignore it. At other times it seems he challenged it.
Jesus appears to reveal disdain for W at Lk 24:44, a passage that again only occurs in the third gospel. The books of the Hebrew Bible are divided into three categories: the law of Moses (Torah), the prophets and The Writings. The Writings include all the books of Wisdom, along with Psalms, Ruth, Esther, Song of Solomon, Lamentations, Daniel and other works not belonging to the law and the prophets. Yet Jesus seems to ignore all the books of The Writings but Psalms when Luke has him say: “These are my words which I spoke to you, while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses and the prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” When Jesus speaks of “the Psalms,” does he mean to exclude all the other books in The Writings?
Our gospels record Jesus quoting from the Psalms several times; as for the other books in The Writings, we have only the single oblique reference to Proverbs. Does St. Paul reflect a continuing Christian animus to the Wisdom tradition when, quoting Job 5:13, he writes, “For the wisdom of this world is folly with God. For it is written, ‘He catches the wise in their craftiness.’” (I Corinthians 3:19)?
Two gospels record a possible instance when the people of Jesus’ hometown seem to mock his “wisdom.” Jesus returns to Nazareth and many ask, ironically, “What is the wisdom given him?….Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” Mark 6:2-3, par. Matthew.
Luke 2:40, 52 skips the derisive question of the Nazarenes and prefers to emphasize that Jesus was “filled with wisdom,” and that he also “grew in wisdom.”
Perhaps the clearest sign of Jesus’ troubled relationship with the Wisdom tradition is a passage found in Matthew 11:25-6 and Luke 10:21. The context in both gospels is Jesus’ frustration with the cities of Bethsaida, Chorazin and Capernaum where he had performed his mighty works because they still did not change their hearts. There, as in Jerusalem, the educated religious establishment generally rejected Jesus’ message, whereas the less educated common people were more receptive.
I give you fullest thanks, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you hid these things from the wise and sagacious and revealed them to infants; Yes, Father, because such was pleasing to you.
Jesus grew up in Nazareth, a small town in Galilee; he probably received some formal education there, but his educational opportunities were limited in this insignificant peasant village. Some scholars question whether Jesus was even literate, although I agree with John Meier that Jesus could read and write, (cf. John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew, p.278.).
The majority of scholars have emphasized the role of the school, probably attached to the Jerusalem court, as the primary source of the Wt (NJBC, p. 448). By Jesus’ time, the Wt was based on higher education in urban centers such as Jerusalem and Alexandria; the “wise” were those with the privilege of leisure needed to study the Hebrew Scriptures and, after the third century BC, also Greek philosophy. We have no evidence of Jesus pursuing higher studies in an urban center like Jerusalem; he came from a provincial family of limited means.
Based on the gospel record as well as what we know of Jesus’ history and the history of the Wt, even before they condemned him to death, we have good reasons to conclude that Jesus was alienated from the religious scholars and leaders, “the wise men” (and they were all men) of his time.
Perhaps because I grew up in the 1960s, I believe to understand a person you need to learn what he or she has rejected. Jesus appears to have been something of a self-taught religious genius. Why did he seem to reject much of the Wt?
Two thousand years later, we cannot answer this question with certainty, but an examination of two books from the Wisdom tradition written not too long before Jesus’ birth can offer some possible insights into why Jesus was no fan of the Wt. Such an examination may also help us to appreciate just how innovative and revolutionary Jesus was. The two books in question are Sirach and Wisdom. The former was written by a Jerusalem scholar circa 180 BC; the latter was written in Alexandria in the last half of the first century BC, shortly before Jesus was born, the last of the Old Testament books.
We have no evidence that Jesus read either of these works. However, whether he was familiar with them or not, they are solid evidence of the religious culture, the milieu, that Jesus would have been exposed to as he grew to maturity and when he traveled to Jerusalem. These books help us to understand the thinking of the Jewish religious establishment that Jesus rejected, and that rejected him.
Before exploring the dissonances between Jesus’ teaching and that of “the wise,” we should note some of the ways Jesus seems to have been positively influenced by this tradition. For this too will help us understand Jesus better.
What struck me first about the Wisdom writers was how exasperatingly vague and unsystematic they were in their method, their approach to questions. For example, they have no interest in the precise definition of terms, a hallmark, I thought, of genuine philosophy. Gerhard von Rad in Wisdom in Israel (WI) puts it well when discussing the first ten verses of Sirach:
The section is also an instructive example of a way of teaching and thinking which is so foreign to us in that it is so remarkably uninterested in clear-cut definition. On the contrary, the relevant statement is not limited (de-fined) but remains open and in the balance and is simply joined to the one next following. The statements which we would like to differentiate sharply almost merge with each other. In this way, however, the author can achieve what he wishes; he circles round the phenomenon in the totality in which it can be experienced by man and which removes it still further from a precise, conceptual definition because, no matter how much one tries to define it, it becomes lost again in mystery. (WI, p. 242)
Jesus’ mission was to proclaim the arrival of the Kingdom of God. Yet he never defines precisely what the Kingdom is! In this regard at least, Jesus’ method appears to be quite like the teachers of Wisdom. This refusal of precision can be frustrating to us moderns at first. But, conversely, von Rad’s discussion of Sirach suggests that we should allow ourselves to be interrogated by our need for conceptual precision. We can become trapped in our heads behind a veil of abstraction by our obsession with precision and lose our connection with the concrete reality, the open-ended mystery of the phenomenon in question.
We moderns shrink from mystery, we want to “solve” every mystery we encounter. The courageous, clear-eyed embrace of mystery brings up another characteristic of Sirach, and of Jewish religious culture, that was so decisive for Jesus we can easily miss it. Once again, I will rely on von Rad:
Surrounded by great mysteries and confronted again and again by insoluble problems, man is nevertheless aware that he is secure in a beneficent divine order. His faith is the protection and life-promoting blessing which God bestows upon those who seek him is so great that not even contradictory experiences can shake him. God tests and tries men, too, sub specie contraria. (WI, p. 260)
This helps us understand the persistence Jesus’ faith when he faced the betrayal and denial of his friends, the rejection of his people, and the condemnation of his nation’s leaders.
Finally, there is one more assumption that binds Jesus with Israel’s WT: their relationship with creation. Especially in his stories and parables, Jesus frequently uses nature and agrarian images to teach us about faith. One of the most beautiful is Matthew 5:25-33, par. Luke. Here Jesus uses birds and flowers to plead with us not to be anxious about the material things of life, what we will eat, drink or wear.
Sirach and all the other teachers of wisdom may not have agreed with Jesus about this specific point, but they certainly agreed that creation will reveal her truth to one who trusts in it.
But almost more important than the differentiation of strong movements within wisdom, is what has continued in it from the very beginning, namely the unwavering certainty that creation herself will reveal her truth to the man who becomes involved with her and trusts her, because this is what she continually does. It is this self-revelation of the orders of creation, and not the convictions of the teachers nor their zeal, that has the last decisive word. (WI, p. 317)
It is so obvious as to go without saying that Jesus’ deepest convictions about God and our place in creation were shaped by the religious culture of Israel. Less obvious is that some of these beliefs are consistent with the Wt as well.
Yet ultimately Jesus breaks with the religious establishment of his time. Of course, we perceive some of the reasons for this rupture by reading the gospels. I believe that by examining the texts of the Wt, written not long before Jesus’ birth, we can come to understand how some of the ruling presuppositions of this tradition conflict with Jesus’ vision of the Kingdom of God.
A rupture is evident at the most general level. “The goal of wisdom is the good life, here and now,” according to the NJBC, p. 447. The good life certainly includes a proper relationship to God. Indeed, a statement repeated often in the tradition is “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”
Until the final book of the tradition, Wisdom, it is assumed that life ends with physical death. While the tradition has no belief in the resurrection, Wisdom asserts that, “the righteous live for ever, and their reward is with the Lord; the Most High takes care of them,” (Wisdom, 5:15).
Despite this innovation in the book of Wisdom, the primary concern of the Wisdom tradition is not with eternity, but how to live well in this life. The assumption is that the attitude and actions of the wise led to prosperity, whereas folly caused disaster. The wise man will be respected in the community, he will have the ear of kings and rulers and all the blessings this life can offer. The following passage is typical:
To fear the Lord is wisdom’s full measure; she satisfies men with her fruits;
She fills their whole house with desirable goods, and their storehouses with her produce.
The fear of the Lord is the crown of wisdom, making peace and perfect health to flourish. (Sirach 1:16-18)
Do not give yourself over to sorrow, and do not afflict yourself deliberately. Gladness of heart is the life of man, and the rejoicing of a man is length of days. (Sirach 30:21-22)
How far from this mind set are the beatitudes of Jesus!
How blissful the destitute, for yours is the kingdom of God; How blissful those who are now hungry, for you shall feast; how blissful those now weeping, for you shall laugh; How blissful you when men hate you and when they exclude you and reproach you and reject your name as something wicked, for the Son of Man’s sake: On that day, rejoice and leap about; for look: Your reward in Heaven is great; for their fathers accordingly did the same things to the prophets.
And then there is this passage, light years from the Wt:
If anyone wishes to come along behind me, let him deny himself utterly and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his soul will lose it; and whoever loses his soul for my sake will find it. For what will it a profit a man if he should gain the whole cosmos but lose his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? (Mt 16:24-26)
The conviction that virtue and piety are rewarded by God in this life led to the converse view that evildoers were punished. Therefore, if you are suffering from disease, social exclusion, or any form of distress, it is the result of sin—God is punishing you. This ‘blame the victim’ approach confronts us with one of the dark sides of the tradition, one that Jesus repeatedly rejected in the gospels.
Give to the godly man, but do not help the sinner. Do good to the humble, but do not give to the ungodly; hold back his bread, and do not give it to him, lest by means of it he subdue you; for you will receive twice as much evil for all the good which you do to him. For the Most High also hates sinners and will inflict punishment on the ungodly. Give to the good man, but do not help the sinner. (Sirach 12:4-7)
What fellowship has a wolf with a lamb? No more has a sinner with a godly man. (Sirach 13:17)
Jesus’ attitude toward sinners could not be more different!
And it happened that, as he was reclining at table in the house, look: Many tax collectors and sinners came and reclined at table with Jesus and his disciples. And, seeing this, the Pharisees said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax-collectors and sinners?” But he heard them and said, “The hale do not have need of a physician, but rather those who are ill. Go then and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice’; for I came to call not the upright, but sinners.” (Mt 9:10-13, par.)
Notice how the Pharisees here are following the counsels of the Wt. If all we know of the Pharisees is what we read of them in the gospels, we may receive a distorted, one-sided perception of their theology. Familiarity with the Wt allows us to enter into their way of thinking and to realize they may have had a point after all.
Jesus’ attitude toward sinners is, to be sure, more admirable and charitable than the Pharisees’. For the spiritually mature who wish to follow him, an open-hearted approach toward sinners is doubtless a natural requirement. Yet, if you are struggling to lead a good life, is there not a case to be made for avoiding the company of those who may lead you in the wrong direction? Alcoholics are advised to avoid spending time with those who still drink. Are parents wrong to want to shield their children from hanging out with “the wrong crowd?”
It is revealing that in our passage from Matthew, Jesus quotes from a prophet (Hosea 6:6) to counter the counsel of the Wisdom tradition. While Jesus’ attitude toward the Law of Israel was complicated, he embraced the prophetic tradition without reservation, often using it to counter the counsels of wisdom.
We can see here also Jesus’ creativity with Israel’s prophetic tradition. Hosea says nothing about “calling sinners”: this is Jesus’ creative addition, his conclusion about the meaning of, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.”
We are by now so influenced by the gospels that, ironically, some of the statements in it are unintelligible to us! I am referring to a gospel passage I never understood until I read Sirach. In Matthew 19:24-25, par. Jesus tells his disciples that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. What confused me was the astonishment of his disciples at this statement. “Who then can be saved?” they asked.
The disciples believed being rich made it easier to be saved and, shaped as I was by two thousand years of Christian tradition, I found this incomprehensible. Until I read Sirach.
We have already seen that, for the wise, worldly success was a sign of God’s favor. Therefore, it makes sense that the rich ought to be the first, not the last, to enter God’s Kingdom. But the tradition goes further. In order to have the leisure to study and learn wisdom in the schools, you needed money.
The wisdom of the scribe depends on the opportunity of leisure; and he who has little business may become wise. How can he become wise who handles the plow, and who glories in the shaft of a goad, who drives oxen and is occupied with their work, and whose talk is about bulls? (Sirach 38:24-25)
Yet Sirach was aware that the excessive love of money was a moral danger. Arguably, the Wisdom tradition had a more balanced and nuanced attitude toward wealth than Jesus, as it understood the risk of greed yet was also aware that not everyone is corrupted by wealth. Unlike Jesus, apparently, it recognized the possibility of remaining virtuous despite being rich. Such men were deserving of praise for the strength of their character and for the good work their wealth allowed them to do.
Many have come to ruin because of gold, and their destruction has met them face to face. It is a stumbling block to those who are devoted to it, and every fool will be taken captive by it. Blessed is the rich man who is found blameless, and who does not go after gold. Who is he? And we will call him blessed for he has done wonderful things among his people….His prosperity will be established, and the assembly will relate his acts of charity. (Sirach 31:5-9, 11)
The chapter continues with a description of the work of other craftsmen: potters, smiths, and jewelers. Sirach does not despise those who work with their hands to earn a living. He observes, “they keep stable the fabric of the world, and their prayer is in the practice of their trade.” (Sirach 38:34)
Yet they are not sought out for the council of the people, nor do they attain eminence in the public assembly. They do not sit in the judge’s seat, nor do they understand the sentence of judgment; they cannot expound discipline or judgment, and they are not found using proverbs. (Sirach 38:33)
Notice here another presupposition of the Wisdom Tradition Jesus utterly rejected: the assumption that the wise man’s goal is “to attain eminence in the public assembly.” Jesus repeatedly urged his followers to forget about worldly status and success, but rather to “seek first the Kingdom of God.” This makes Jesus almost seem to be a child of the sixties!
The disciples, too, had been formed by the assumptions of the Wisdom tradition, that riches are a sign of God’s favor and allowed you the necessary leisure to study Scripture, become wise and better follow God’s Law. They were astonished by Jesus’ assertion that riches are an impediment to entering the kingdom he proclaimed. Here is another presupposition of the Wt Jesus rejected.
Perhaps the darkest side of the Wisdom Tradition is the brutality of its sexism. While Jesus had many women who followed him as disciples and even apostles, there were no “wise women.” The following verses speak for themselves. How can we not love the Jesus who grew up with these attitudes toward women—and utterly rejected them!
Do not look upon any one for beauty, and do not sit in the midst of women; for from garments comes the moth, and from a woman comes woman’s wickedness. Better is the wickedness of a man than a woman who does good; and it is a woman who brings shame and disgrace. (Sirach 42:12-14)
From a woman sin had its beginning, and because of her we all die. Allow no outlet to water, and no boldness of speech in an evil wife. If she does not go as you direct, separate her from yourself. (Sirach 25:25-6)
Finally, the question of how to treat your enemies reveals another chasm between the gospel of Jesus and the Wt. Sirach hopes and believes God will punish without mercy ‘the ungodly’ ( Sirach 39:28- 32), the righteous man’s personal enemies and the enemies of Israel.
Never trust your enemy, for like the rusting of copper, so is his wickedness.
Even if he humbles himself and goes about cringing, watch yourself, and be on your guard against him; and you will be to him like one who has polished a mirror, and you will know that it was not hopelessly tarnished.
Do not put him next to you, lest he overthrow you and take your place; do not have him sit at your right, lest he try to take your seat of honor, and at last you will realize the truth of my words, and be stung by what I have said. (Sirach 12:10-12)
With nine thoughts I have gladdened my heart, and a tenth I shall tell with my tongue: a man rejoicing in his children; a man who lives to see the downfall of his foes. (Sirach 25:7)
A perverse mind will cause grief, but a man of experience will pay him back. (Sirach 36:20)
Lift up thy hand against foreign nations and let them see thy might. As in us thou hast been sanctified before them, so in them be thou magnified before us; and let them know thee, as we have known that there is no God but thee, O Lord.
Show signs anew, and work further wonders; make thy hand and thy right arm glorious. Rouse thy anger and pour out thy wrath; destroy the adversary and wipe out the enemy. Hasten the day, and remember the appointed time, and let people recount thy mighty deeds.
Let him who survives be consumed in the fiery wrath, and may those who harm thy people meet destruction.
Crush the heads of the rulers of the enemy, who say, “There is no one but ourselves.” (Sirach 36:3-10)
This seems to be the dominant vision of how to deal with enemies in Sirach, yet there is a passage that seems more consonant with the teachings of Jesus.
Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done, and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray.
Does a man harbor anger against another, and yet seek healing from the Lord?
Does he have no mercy toward a man like himself, and yet pray for his own sins?
If he himself, being flesh, maintains wrath, who will make expiation for his sins? (Sirach 28:2-5)
Perhaps the Wt was conflicted about how to treat one’s enemies, a problem ultimately resolved by Jesus. He commands us not only to forgive anyone who harms us an infinite number of times (Matthew 18:22, par. Luke), he goes one step further: love your enemies! In this passage from Matthew, it appears Jesus may be specifically citing and refuting a traditional (Wisdom tradition?) teaching.
You have heard that it has been said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and shall hate your enemy’—whereas I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. (Mt 5:44)
The parallel passage in Luke is even stronger.
But to you who listen, I say, ‘Love your enemies, do well by those who hate you, Bless those cursing you, pray for those reviling you. To him who strikes you on the cheek turn the other also, and from him who takes your cloak do not withhold your tunic as well. Give to everyone who asks and do not ask back from the one taking your things.’ (Lk 6:27-30)
In conclusion, Jesus was clearly influenced by the Wt in several profound ways that are mostly implicit and therefore somewhat hidden from us today. Yet, in his attitudes toward women, the love of enemies and sinners, the value of money, status and worldly success, he also made a decisive break with this tradition. A knowledge of the Wt can help us to appreciate how radical a religious revolutionary Jesus was; this has helped me to love Jesus more! Yet such knowledge can also help us appreciate how, perhaps at times, Jesus—or the gospel writers– may have been carried away by the rebellion from the previous generations and that Jesus’s opponents had more of a point than we might first believe from a naïve reading of the gospels.
Appendix F
ἀyape – Agape
If Christians know only one word of Greek, it should be “agape,” as it is clearly at the heart of Jesus’ message to us. When Jesus gives us the Great Commandment (Matthew 22:37-40, par.) he uses the word “agape,” to express the love we should have for God, neighbor and ourselves.
English probably has more words than any other language. It is a Germanic language but after the Norman Conquest in 1066 it was greatly influenced by Norman French, and invading French left us with many linguistics “souvenirs.”
It is odd, therefore, that English has only one real word for “love.” (I exclude “charity” because in English it has acquired unfortunate connotations.) Greek is superior in this regard, as the language distinguishes among the various forms of love. It gives us eros for passionate love, often used for the erotic love between a man and a woman; philadelphia means brotherly or sisterly love, love between relatives or, by extension, it can mean the special love you have for a fellow Christian. And then there is ἀyape, or agape.
The word is used frequently throughout the New Testament, and it has a range of meanings. It can mean the love we have for other human beings, our love for God and Jesus, God’s love for us, and the love flowing among God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. It can also mean the love of things, and not necessarily in a good sense, as in Luke 11:43, when Jesus attacks the Pharisees because they love the best seat in the synagogue and salutations in the marketplaces.
As I mentioned in the Sixth Sunday of Easter, agape begins with God’s love for us. Jesus makes this point implicitly in the Great Commandment when he tells us we are to love our neighbor as ourselves. I know from my own experience that if I do not love myself, I will be incapable of loving my neighbor. How can I come to love myself?
I believe it comes from experiencing the love God has for me. “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but rather that he loved us and sent his Son as atonement for our sins.” (I John 4:10) Because God loves me, despite my many failings, I can and should love others despite their failings, just as God does. (I John 4:11) There is a rational logic to this argument but, more importantly, there is an emotional logic to it as well. I explore this in more depth in Appendix C.
Our ability to agape God, oursselves and others follows, can only follow, our having first experienced God’s unconditional agape for us.
Gene Outka wrote an entire book entitled, Agape (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1972). He identified three aspects of agape that form its content: a) equal regard; b) self-sacrifice; c) mutuality. I believe these are helpful ways to dive more deeply into agape; let’s spend a little time with each.
Equal regard is one way we can distinguish agape from other forms of love. The erotic love between two lovers is obviously one that excludes (or should exclude!) anyone else. Brotherly love is also not equal regard because it refers to the special form of love you have (or should have!) toward members of your family. I think it appropriate to expand this kind of love to the love we can have for fellow Christians. When you share faith in Jesus and the Holy Trinity with someone else, a special bond can form. In both these forms of love, we love the other person because we love some of their special characteristics or maybe we just have a global love for who they are.
Agape is different because it is blind to the characteristics of the person who is loved. We are to love our neighbor simply because he or she is our neighbor, and everyone is our neighbor. In this way we are imitating the kind of love we believe God has for all of us. God loves us all equally because God created us all.
This means if we are truly living agape-filled lives we are often going to be uncomfortable. Because there are people who we really do not like very much, yet that makes absolutely no difference to the obligation we have to agape them. This love resides not in the heart, or the mind, but in the will. My experience is that if you make this commitment, and ask for God’s grace to help you, God will come through and give you the grace you need to love this person. It may not be easy, it may take time, you may still not want to spend a lot of time with this person. But you will be able to make some sacrifices for him or her. And you may well come to find some things you like about the person.
Jesus tells us we are to agape our enemies. This may be the hardest commandment in the gospel message. It seems to be contrary to human nature–probably because it is. Yet, as Jesus says, with God all things are possible. And it does, in fact happen, that people come to forgive and even love those who have grievously hurt them. It has even happened to me! It is all the proof I need that God exists.
Self-sacrifice is Outka’s second point, and it is helpful because it is a way for us to make sure we are being “real” with our agape. It cannot remain in our heads—we know we are not kidding ourselves if we actually do, or do not do, something because of our regard for our neighbor. Making a sacrifice for someone out of agape, someone you do not especially like, is a wonderful way to build up your spiritual muscles. It can be for your spirit akin to what it is for your body when you sprint up a hill as part of your interval training.
Reading St. Paul’s famous hymn to agape in I Cor 13, and testing yourself against its lofty claims, is another way to make sure your love is real. We often hear this passage read at weddings, but that is probably not appropriate. Weddings are a celebration of erotic love and St. Paul is not writing about that at all. This is a perfect illustration of the confusion resulting from the English language’s impoverished love vocabulary.
Jesus showed us on the cross how far the self-sacrifice of agape and can take us. But the goal of his sacrifice was not simply to die a horrible death, it was to build a loving, forgiving community. If I agape my enemy, one important goal lies outside of me, but rather resides in our relationship. My goal is to restore the relationship to one of cooperativeness and trust.
I believe some concern for mutuality can help us avoid a kind of masochistic obsession with self-sacrifice, something that can perhaps even lead to exploitation. We can ask ourselves, “What is the goal of my sacrifice?” One goal should be to empower the other person to respond to you and what you are doing. You want the other person to be a subject in an ongoing dialogue, not merely the object of your agape-sacrifice.
Challenging the other person lovingly need not be contrary to agape. It may be essential. We earn the right to do this when we have done the work of sacrifice. At a certain point this right may become a duty if we are to have a genuinely human relationship with the other.
Mutuality, sacrifice and equal regard are therefore all important if we are to practice agape toward our fellow creatures; this kind of love is at least three dimensional and each dimension qualifies and enriches the other.
In Appendix C I discuss the agape between us and God. As for the agape that flows among the persons of the Holy Trinity, I do not feel qualified to touch it! I will leave that to more qualified theologians.
