Part XXII Matthew
Jesus through the Lens of Yom Kippur
Matthew observes Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, with a flashback story in which John the Baptist, the quintessential Rosh Hashanah figure, although in prison, sends messengers to Jesus asking him to verify his claim to be messiah: “Are you the one that should come or do we look for another?” If my role, he was saying, is to prepare the way for the messiah to come, then I need you to confirm that you are the expected one or my life will have had no meaning.
Jesus responds by quoting from Isaiah 35, the lesson from the latter prophets regularly read at Rosh Hashanah in which Isaiah describes the things that will mark the arrival of the Kingdom of God. Isaiah’s vision was one of a fulfilled world. Water will flow in the desert, causing even the crocus to bloom in that sandy wasteland. Then, he continues, the kingdom will be seen when brokenness is replaced with human wholeness: “The blind will see and the deaf hear, the mute will sing and the lame leap.” Matthew, we have previously noted, has just spent the time in his gospel between the Sermon on the Mount, his Shavuot celebration (Matthew 5, 6 and 7,) and Rosh Hashanah (chapter 11) portraying Jesus as doing exactly the things which indicate that the Kingdom of God is dawning in him: he has caused the blind to see and has enabled the deaf to hear. He has loosed the tongue of the mute and has healed those crippled or those with “withered limbs.” The claim for recognizing him as messiah did not lie in religious theory, but rather by looking at the results his life was achieving. Now, with Rosh Hashanah fully covered with a Jesus story, Matthew begins to chart his next Jesus interpretation. In chapter 12, he arrives at the Jewish day called Yom Kippur and he begins to develop this next theme.
First, Matthew portrays a contrast between the attitudes of the official leaders of the established religion, who seem intent on keeping the religious rules intact and those who see the in-breaking of the kingdom. Does one violate the Sabbath by picking grain in the fields to satisfy one’s hunger? The religious leadership puts the priority on the Sabbath while Jesus places it on alleviating human need. Jesus is made to quote the ultimate Jewish hero, Kind David, who ate the “showbread” in the House of God (read the reserve sacrament in the ambry) to satisfy his hunger. He asks: “Does sacrifice take precedence over mercy?” If one who is greater than David is here, must he be bound by rules that even King David set aside? Have we in the name of religion confused our rules with God’s call to wholeness? Are we calling evil that which is good? If so, then where is the uncleanliness that should be set aside and avoided at Yom Kippur?
Next, Jesus moves this discussion from theory to deed. He enters the synagogue on a holy Sabbath and does “work,” by which Matthew means he healed a man with a withered hand. It was not an emergency. Presumably the withered hand would still be withered on the day after the Sabbath. Why not postpone healing to serve the religious rule? Jesus reverses the equation. Is it unlawful, he asks, to do good on the Sabbath? Once again, the authorities had confused “good” with “being lawful.” Jesus’ critics, challenged by his freedom, take “counsel against him to destroy him!” How can one be cleansed from sin at Yom Kippur if one has identified sin with that which is virtuous?
Next Jesus is portrayed as healing one who is both blind and mute. Instead of rejoicing at the signs of wholeness, his critics begin to question his origins. He cannot be of God, they assert, if he does not work within the boundaries of our religious rules. He cannot be messiah, the son of David. He must, therefore, cure by the power of Beelzebub, becomes their conclusion. This confusion between good and evil is intense. How can one be cleansed of evil if one does not recognize evil, if one has confused evil with good? That confusion means that one’s sins cannot be forgiven. Yom Kippur will do no good. This is the place in the Bible where that enigmatic phrase occurs, which says that a sin against the Holy Spirit can never be forgiven. Through the ages that “sin against the Holy Spirit” has created great anxiety. Have I done it? The “unforgiveable sin,” however, is not a deed, it is the inability to distinguish between God and Satan, between good and evil, between religious rules and expanded life. One cannot be forgiven if one does not recognize the need for forgiveness, or if one calls evil good, or God Satan. The Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, will not work until this confusion is straightened out so the drama of this dialogue continues.
Gentile readers of Matthew’s gospel did not know that one of the popular readings from the prophets in the Yom Kippur liturgy was the book of Jonah. So they are surprised that Matthew now turns the conversation to this book. Matthew and his original Jewish audience, however, would not have been surprised. The theme of Jonah is that he confused his own vision of what is holy with God’s vision of what is holy. He saw the people of Nineveh as those who had no worth, while God saw the divine image in all that God had made. Jonah, like Jesus’ contemporary critics, was calling evil what God had called good.
Briefly, the story of the prophet Jonah was that he was called to proclaim God’s message to the people of Nineveh, the capital of Assyria. The Assyrians were those who destroyed the Northern Kingdom of the Jews, reducing that nation to what we still call the “Ten Lost Tribes of Israel.” They were not only Israel’s enemies, but they were also Gentiles, ignorant of the Torah, worshippers of a false deity, uncircumcised and therefore unclean. To associate with them was to become unclean oneself. Surely, Jonah reasoned, the people of Nineveh are outside the boundaries of God’s love. So, he responded to God’s call by fleeing to Tarshish, the exact opposite direction from Nineveh. Jonah had judged God’s call to be not worthy of God and thus beyond the limits of true religion. Jonah, however, could not escape this call. A storm came up, his boat was in peril. The captain, assuming that God must be angry with someone on that ship, was determined to identify that person and then to rid the ship of him. Jonah was identified by drawing lots as fleeing from the call of God so he was thrown overboard and the storm ceased.
Jonah’s adventures were, however, not yet complete, for the call of God cannot finally be refused. So instead of drowning, Jonah was swallowed by a great fish. He lived, we are told, inside that great fish for three days and three nights until that fish, unwilling to tolerate this foreign presence any longer, spit him up on a small sandbar in the middle of the ocean. There God’s call to Jonah was renewed. Jonah must bring God’s truth to the people of Nineveh.
Jonah, overpowered, but still resistant goes and preaches to the Ninevites, but he does it in whispers and only in the back alleys of the city where no one would hear. They did hear, however, and they responded, begging God for forgiveness and mercy. The conversion rate was about 100%. Jonah, now the world’s most successful evangelist, was not pleased; instead he was irate. He abandoned his hoards of new converts and stormed out of town. Why, God, Jonah asked, can you not understand the limits of human prejudice, the limits of human religion? Why is your love not bounded by the limits of my love? Why do you not call all of the things evil that I call evil? It was a powerful Yom Kippur reading.
Jesus’ critics, unable to embrace his vision, responded to him by demanding that he show them his credentials. Give us a sign, they said, that you are who you say you are. Jesus responds that it is only an evil generation that always asks for a sign. Matthew has filled his gospel, by surrounding Jesus with what Isaiah called the “signs” of the inbreaking of the kingdom. These critics of Jesus are not able to see them. Because they are not able to see the signs that were all around them, they must look, Jesus says, at the sign of Jonah, who spent three days and three nights in the belly of a whale because he could not believe that God’s love could embrace those Jonah called unclean. The people of Nineveh, he continued, will rise up at the day of judgment and condemn this generation. The “unclean” Ninevites repented at the preaching of Jonah. This generation, unaware of its own uncleanness, is not able to repent even though one greater that Jonah is here. The Yom Kippur message in Matthew becomes even more obvious. Jesus then expands that message. The Queen of the South (Sheba), Jesus says, will also condemn this generation at the judgment for she, an unclean Gentile, came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of King Solomon. This generation, however, does not repent even though one greater than Solomon is present.
If one calls God Satan, if one calls good evil, if one believes that religion places limits on the love of God or that the claim of being God’s chosen means that all others are unclean, then there can be no atonement and Yom Kippur will be a failure. God can enter that which others call unclean and God does not become unclean in the process. The status of being unclean always fades away before this divine presence.
It was a powerful Yom Kippur message. Matthew continues to relate Jesus to the liturgical calendar of the Jews. When we enter into the life of God, we can no longer call unclean that which God has made and those whom God loves. We can no longer use religion to suggest that there is anyone that God has made who is condemned to live beyond the boundaries of the love of God. Prejudice dies in that moment and universalism is born. That is what atonement is all about. How badly we have misread its meaning. God’s love is not and can never be bound by the limits of our love.
Next week we will look at how this insight must change the way that we Christians worship. We are not “miserable offenders,” we are incomplete people seeking the wholeness of the love of God. It is time that Christian liturgy recognizes that.
~John Shelby Spong
Read the essay online
here.