A pastor stands up at the appointed time of a Sunday service to preach and begins reading from Matthew’s version of the Sermon on the Mount. Without the usual pre-sermon prayer, the puzzled listeners assumes a mistake has been made somewhere. Did the pastor call a last minute audible? Was the lectionary incorrect? By the time the pastor blows past “an eye for an eye,” everyone knows something is up. After exactly thirteen minutes, he reaches the parable of the foolish builder. The house falls with a great crash and the pastor abruptly sits down, clearly bemused at the object lesson he has inflicted upon the congregation. After the final hymn, when asked about the uncharacteristic and short sermon, the pastor muttered something about not improving upon perfection.
The pastor has preached a sermon, no doubt, but this simple repetition of Jesus’ words fails to account for a number of historical, hermeneutical, and theological complexities. Jesus may have founded Christianity, but his teachings have never straightforwardly been the preaching of the church.
For starters, Jesus spoke in ways that are were readily intelligible to his immediate audience — and comparatively less intelligible today. Whether it be first-century farming practices, marital customs, construction techniques, or religious observance, Jesus used illustrations informed by the world around him. Few today are aware of how salt was used in Jesus’ day: knowledge presumed by Jesus when he likened his disciples to it. Jesus likewise presumed a far greater fluency in Israel’s scriptures than most have today. For example, when he told a parable about a vineyard leased to tenant farmers, his audience comprised of chief priests, scribes, and elders would immediately understand the reference to Isaiah 5 and, more importantly, the ways Jesus adapted this text to suit his purposes.
But perhaps more fundamentally, the teachings of Jesus are not that of a Greek philosopher. The gospels do not provide abstract discourses that bear no relation to the speaker or his time. Jesus’ teachings occurred within the unfolding narrative of his life and are irreducibly circumstantial, prompted by questions from interlocutors or occasioned by a recent miracle or healing. He speaks to people at a given time and place, and often recalls his teachings elsewhere.
Jesus did not preach in fragments or aphorisms, but his teachings comprised a vast and intricate mural of the entirety of his ministry. Though lectionary readings of the gospels today only provide snippets of Jesus’ teaching from week to week, they are but the hem or the sleeve of a seamless narrative garment.
Even Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount was given to his disciples at the very beginning of their time with him. Additional teachings and events would soon inform the meaning of his inaugural address to them. When Jesus instructed his disciples to address God as their father, Jesus’ own practice of prayer further illuminated how a child might speak to this divine father. When he told his disciples that the merciful are blessed, what Jesus meant by mercy would be informed by his later teaching about forgiveness. And when Jesus told his disciples to not judge their neighbor, the disastrous results of judgment are illustrated by a subsequent parable about weeds and wheat.
Though we might want to isolate Jesus’ preaching from the contours of this life story, the shadow of the cross extends backward like ominous storm clouds on the horizon. Jesus traveled the countryside for year as an itinerate preacher, but he always knew his time was short. As he approached Jerusalem, his teaching became more morose. The days of innumerable miracles and crowds hanging on his every word shrank in his rearview mirror.
Unlike many great teachers throughout history, the story of Jesus’ life does not end with a farewell discourse from his deathbed, surrounded by his faithful followers hanging on his every word. Bound, whipped, crowned with thorns, and nailed to a tree, his opponent had found a way to muzzle this troublesome preacher. Hanging on a cross, his endless sermons gave way to silence — a silence that ruptured the course of history. There was before Jesus’ death and resurrection, and there was after. After Calvary, Jesus could no longer be viewed as just a prophet, miracle worker, or messiah sent to vanquish the romans. After the empty tomb, Jesus’ teachings took on new, previously unimaginable significance.
The big reveal in the plot of Jesus’ life fundamentally altered all that came before. The before now pointed forward to something else beyond the occurrences of history to the immutable promise of God. The healing of one man became a parable of the healing of the world. The forgiveness extended to a tax collector represented the mercy he shows to all people. The compassion he had on the crowds was the same compassion he demonstrates to everyone. The love of enemies Jesus demanded became the love the showed in his death. The shame, rejection, and suffering at the hands of a few was endured for the sins of all. The fabric of time was torn asunder and the gospel burst forth from the void. The proclaimer became the one proclaimed.
On the other side of Jesus’ grave, the disciples who abandoned him at his point of need were now apostles sent to the ends of the earth. Along the way, something curious happened to the words spoken by their former rabbi. In some circles, the teachings of Jesus decrescendo to near silence.[1] The preacher from Nazareth was known for a memorable turn of phrase, a quick wit and profundity that far surpassed every other teacher of the day, but his earliest followers failed to recount the great teacher’s brilliance. These apostles did not preach or teach like Jesus. The stories of Jesus life and the recounting of his words became the basis of preaching another word altogether. The message they bore was not the mere repetition of Jesus’ wisdom, but the good news of his death and resurrection.
Jesus gave the crowds his teaching; he gave the world his very life. He passed down ideas that are useful, revolutionary even, but the spark that ignited the revolution came not from his lips, but from silence of a vacant grave. The sermon preached from a mountain top was heard by many, but his cry of forsakenness resounded into eternity.
COMMENTS
3 responses to “The Itinerate Rabbi Who Became a Savior”
Leave a Reply
Powerful. Thank you!
Golly, Todd, this is so good!!!
I can always count on Mockingbird to open my mind and heart to new ways of looking at Jesus life, death and resurrection.
Thank you once again!