Jesus confuses Herod Antipas.

Luke 23.4-12.

All the gospels tell of Jesus’s suffering, but only in Luke do we find this bit about Jesus being sent to the Roman governor of the Galilee, “King” (but really tetrarch) Herod Antipas. The other gospel authors skipped it ’cause it didn’t add anything to their accounts. Doesn’t add much to Luke either. But it’s interesting.

It begins right after Pontius Pilate, Herod’s counterpart in Judea, was presented with Jesus for crucifixion. Pilate didn’t see any reason to crucify him, ’cause as John related, he figured Jesus’s kingdom wasn’t any political threat to Rome. (It did take over Rome just the same.) So Pilate didn’t feel like crucifying Jesus… and a loose comment the Judeans made, gave him the idea to hand off his inconvenient problem to Herod.

Luke 23.4-7 KWL

4Pilate tells the head priests and the crowd,

“I find nothing of guilt in this person.”

5The crowd prevails over Pilate, saying this:

“He riles up the people, teaching throughout Judea—

having begun such behavior in the Galilee.”

6On hearing this, Pilate asks whether Jesus is Galilean.

7Realizing Jesus is under Herod Antipas’s authority,

Pilate sends him to Herod;

Herod himself being in Jerusalem on that day.

Now let’s be clear. There was no rule in the Roman Empire which said if you had the subject of another province under arrest, you had to extradite him to that province’s governor. No custom either. In fact, knowing Romans, they wouldn’t wanna extradite their prisoners, lest it be considered a sign of weakness. So there were only two possible reasons for Pilate to send Jesus to Herod:

1. Passing the buck.
2. Making nice with Herod.

Because they hated one another, Lk 23.12 and we’re not told why.

Of course we can guess why: Herod Antipas figured he oughta be Judea’s king. His dad Herod 1 had overthrown King Antigonus Mattathias in 36BC, with Roman help, and taken over Israel; he was the eldest, and supposedly next in line to the throne, after his dad had executed his brothers Aristobulus and Alexander. Herod 1’s will had instead made Herod Archelaus king, so Antipas and his brother Philip appealed to Cæsar Augustus as the will’s executor. Cæsar double-crossed them, though: He overturned the will, then divided Israel into fourths, with Antipas as the ruler of one-fourth, and Cæsar himself as the ruler of Judea. Hence Antipas and Philip’s official titles were τετράρχης/tetrárhis, “ruler of a fourth.” Pilate was ruling over two-fourths of what Antipas figured he oughta be ruling.

Or maybe it was some other silly, petty reason. Whatever; they didn’t get along. But Herod had always wanted to meet Jesus, Lk 23.8 and if Pilate knew this, it was a significant gesture on his part. More likely, I’m guessing, Pilate stumbled into this gesture by a combination of dumb luck and procrastination.

Jesus confuses Pontius Pilate.

Mark 15.1-5, Matthew 27.1-2, 11-14, Luke 23.1-4, John 18.28-38.

After the Judean senate held their perfectly legal trial and sentenced Jesus to death, the Law instructed ’em to take Jesus outside the city, hurl him off a cliff, and throw stones down on his body till he was quite dead. But because the Romans had taken over Judea 27 years before, the Romans didn’t permit ’em to execute anyone. Only Romans were permitted the death penalty. So the Romans would have to kill Jesus for them.

This meant the Judean leaders had to convince Pontius Pilate, the Roman prætor—the military governor (Greek ἡγεμών/igemón, “ruler”) of Jerusalem—that it was in Rome’s best interests to execute Jesus. The prætor wasn’t just gonna execute anybody the Judeans recommended. Especially over stuff the Romans didn’t consider capital crimes, like blasphemy against a god the Romans didn’t understand, or honestly, respect. So what’d the Judeans have on Jesus?

Simple: He declared himself Messiah. Did it right in front of everybody.

Mark 14.61-64 NLT

61BThen the high priest asked him, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?”

62Jesus said, “I AM. And you will see the Son of Man seated in the place of power at God’s right hand and coming on the clouds of heaven.”

63Then the high priest tore his clothing to show his horror and said, “Why do we need other witnesses? 64You have all heard his blasphemy. What is your verdict?”

“Guilty!” they all cried. “He deserves to die!”

Messiah (i.e. Christ) means “the anointed,” and since you only anointed kings, it straight-up means king. Jesus publicly declared himself Israel’s king. That, the Romans would consider treason: The king of Judea was Cæsar Tiberius Divi Augusti, princeps (“first citizen”) of Rome. Cæsar would have a vested interest in putting any antikings to death. So that was the charge the senate brought with them, and Jesus, to the Roman prætor.

The senators hauled Jesus to Antonia, a fort Herod 1 had built next to the temple (and named for his patron, Marcus Antonius) so soldiers could observe the Judeans in temple… just in case any riots broke out in there. The senators then presented their unrecognized true king to Pilate.

Mark 15.1 KWL

Next, in the morning, the head priests,

consulting with the elders, scribes, and the whole senate,

carry and deliver the bound Jesus

to Pontius Pilate.

Matthew 27.1-2 KWL

1As it became morning, all the head priests and people’s elders

gather in council regarding Jesus,

and how they’d put him to death.

2Binding him, they lead Jesus away

and hand him off to Pontius Pilate, the leader.

Luke 23.1-2 KWL

1Getting up, the crowd leads him to Pontius Pilate.

2They begin to accuse Jesus,

saying, “We find this man twisting our nation,

preventing taxes to be given to Cæsar,

calling himself ‘Christ’—which means king.”

In all the gospels, Pilate questioned Jesus… and came away unconvinced this man was any threat to Rome whatsoever. As Luke and John tell it, he didn’t even believe Jesus was guilty of anything. But the Judean senate wanted Jesus dead, and got plenty of the locals to say so too. In the end, Pontius pragmatically gave ’em what they wanted.

We gotta be better than “the righteous.”

Matthew 5.17-20, Luke 16.16-17.

Right after Jesus speaks on salt and light in his Sermon on the Mount, and tells his followers we need to be the world’s light, he says this about how we’re to live in order to be that salt and light: We gotta be righteous.

And by “righteous” Jesus does not mean we have to conform to popular Christian culture. We don’t have to be “righteous” the way conservative church people define righteousness. He doesn’t demand we act like they do, think like they do, dress like they do, vote like they do, or otherwise try to fit their standards. Jesus has a standard. What’s his standard? Well, the thinking and behavior he spells out in his Sermon on the Mount. He expects that of us. If the people of our churches are doing that—well they should, and good for them! But if the people of our churches are doing no such thing, and think they’ve found some other path to righteousness, like cheap grace or dispensationalism, I gotta warn you: Jesus doesn’t know them. And really it’s not safe to be among them. Leave, and join a better church.

If we wanna be righteous, we gotta trust Jesus. And Jesus says we gotta follow him. And—and here’s the part where you’re gonna see a lot of Evangelicals balk—we gotta also observe the Law of Moses. Certain commands still apply! Some don’t, because they only ever applied to ancient Hebrews. Some have clearly been superseded by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit; the ritual cleanliness rules are an obvious example. But loving our neighbors or the Ten Commandments never stopped being valid; never stopped defining whether we’re right and wrong in God’s sight.

So if we wanna follow Jesus, we can’t be one of those Christians who think we’ve found a loophole which gets us out of obeying his commands and teachings in the scriptures. Israel’s scribes and Pharisees were notorious for their loopholes, and applied ’em so liberally Jesus couldn’t help but call them hypocrites, who pretended to be devout but were as pagan and evil as any Greek or Roman. Jesus expects way, way better of his students and followers.

His words, not mine!—

Matthew 5.17-20 KWL

17“None of you should think

that I come to tear down the Law or the Prophets.

I don’t come to tear down,

but build up.

18For amen!—I promise you:

Heaven and earth might pass away,

but neither one yodh nor one dot

ought ever pass away from the Law;

not until everything’s done.

19So whoever might annul the smallest of these commands,

and might teach this to people:

They will be called least in heaven’s kingdom.

And whoever might do and teach them,

this one will be called great in heaven’s kingdom.

20For I tell you this:

Unless your rightness superabounds—

more than scribe and Pharisees—

you might not enter heaven’s kingdom.”

Mary’s visit to Elizabeth.

Luke 1.39-45.

Jesus comes from a family of prophets. Mary and Joseph heard from angels, same as Daniel. Mary’s relatives Elizabeth and Zechariah heard directly from the Holy Spirit, same as all the other prophets of the Old Testament. As did Elizabeth and Zechariah’s son, the prophet John the baptist.

And of course this is no coincidence. God wanted his Son raised by and among people who sought his will and listened to him. Imagine how much friction the boy Jesus would have to grow up with if this weren’t the case. There was already plenty, even with the Spirit’s activity in his family! Remember when they lost him in Jerusalem? Or when they saw him overworking himself, and thought he’d lost his marbles?

Thing is, whenever I point out this fact, Christians are regularly surprised. And either respond, “Oh… obviously God surrounded his Son with prophets!” or “Oh they’re not prophets; they just happened to have a one-time angelic appearance.” Or have three prophetic dreams, yet somehow that doesn’t qualify Joseph of Nazareth to be a prophet. even though one such dream qualified Daniel when he interpreted Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. Da 2

The problem is cessationism. Too many Christians think God completely stopped speaking through prophets between Malachi and John, and these “silent years” weren’t over till Gabriel started appearing to people. If you wanna get right down to it, they figure God stopped speaking when the Old Testament was complete, then started up again once he decided a New Testament needed to be written. It’s Darbyist dispensationalist rubbish. But it’s popular rubbish, and it warps popular bible interpretation.

As a result of cessationists’ false, faithless belief, popular Christian culture isn’t familiar with how prophecy works, and can’t recognize a prophet when they see ’em. So when Jesus’s family members do something prophetic, it goes right over their heads. It’s a miracle; they’ll admit to that at least. But prophecy has become a giant blind spot.

Fr’instance today’s passage: When Mary visits Elizabeth. Why’d she visit her? I kid you not: I’ve heard it preached, multiple times, Mary went to Elizabeth because she wanted to hide her pregnancy from the gossipy Nazareth women. ’Cause that’s what women used to do in our country when they got pregnant outside of wedlock: They were sent away to “visit relatives.” Then they came back with a new “baby sister” or “cousin.” (Or, if they aborted the baby, or let someone else adopt it, nothing.) This, they figure, is what Mary was doing: Hiding.

Was that how first-century Israeli culture worked? Nope! If people found out an unmarried couple were having sex (and pregnancy would definitely be one way they found it out), they had to marry, and they were forbidden to divorce. Dt 22.29 The man had to pay her dad a dowry; Ex 22.16-17 that made ’em married. It’s in the Law. Nobody has to visit relatives, or hide anything.

So why’d Mary visit Elizabeth? Because Gabriel gave her Elizabeth as confirmation of his prophecy.

Luke 1.36 KWL

“And look: Your relative Elizabeth

has conceived a son in her old age.

This is actually her sixth month—

and she was called sterile.”

Mary didn’t know this. Nobody knew this. Elizabeth secluded herself as soon as she found she was pregnant. Lk 1.24 But Elizabeth was the proof Mary’s pregnancy came from God.

I know; people claim Mary never doubted Gabriel, and totally believed him. But that’s not consistent with the scriptures. Why would Mary then rush to visit Elizabeth? Lk 1.39 Why wouldn’t she simply sit back at home, wait for the news that Elizabeth had—beyond all expectations—given birth, and bask in the knowledge she was gonna be the mother of Messiah?

Because of course Mary doubted. It’s a reasonable doubt! God hadn’t done anything like this before, and you know how often people insist God doesn’t do new things—even though he totally does. Mary needed certainty, and Elizabeth could give it to her. So off she went.

How Mary became Jesus’s mother.

Luke 1.26-38.

The Gospel of Luke begins with John the baptist’s annunciation, which Luke found kinda important because he wanted to tie John and Jesus’s ministries together. Not that they worked together, but they did both work for God, and John himself said his purpose was to point to Messiah, Jn 3.28 whom Jesus is.

Anyway right after John’s annunciation comes Jesus’s annunciation. And for that, we leave Judea and go to the Galilee, to a little town settled by Bethlehemites called Nazareth, to a young woman—likely in her teens, ’cause they married ’em off young in those days—named Miryam, in Latin “Maria,” in English “Mary.”

Luke 1.26-38 KWL

26In Elizabeth’s sixth month,

the angel Gabriel is sent by God

to a Galilean city called Nazareth,

27to a maiden betrothed

to a man of David’s house named Joseph;

the maiden’s name is Mary.

28Coming to her, Gabriel says, “Hello, your honor!

The Lord’s with you.

{You’re blessed above all women.}”

29Mary is alarmed by this message,

and speculates about what sort of greeting this is.

30The angel tells her, “Don’t fear, Mary:

You’ve found grace with God.

31Look, you’ll conceive in your womb.

You’ll give birth to a son. You’ll name him Jesus.

32He’ll be great. He’ll be called the Most High’s son.

The Lord will give him his ancestor David’s throne.

33He’ll be king over Jacob’s house in the age to come.

His kingdom will never end.”

34Mary tells the angel, “How will this happen?—

since I’ve not been with a man.”

35In reply the angel tells her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you.

The Most High’s power will envelop you

and the holy one produced will be called God’s son.

36And look: Your relative Elizabeth

has conceived a son in her old age.

This is actually her sixth month—

and she was called sterile.

37 No word of God is impossible.”

38Mary says, “Look: I’m the Lord’s slave.

I hope it happens according to your word.”

The angel leaves her.

In Orthodox tradition, Mary was at the Nazareth well, so most Christian art depicts her there, with Gabriel either greeting her, or saying something profound as she looks downward in humility. Something pious, and posed—you know, like artist’s models will do.

Today, the well, and the cave it’s in, is underneath St. Gabriel’s Church in Nazareth. As our tour guide rightly pointed out, if it wasn’t the very place Gabriel appeared to Mary, it doesn’t entirely matter; Mary did go to this well to get water, since it’s Nazareth’s only natural water source. (As a city of 74,000 today, it’s had to tap a number of additional water sources.)

When the art doesn’t depict Mary at a well, it’s often of her at home. Sounds reasonable, ’cause Luke says Gabriel entered, and we usually figure that’d be a building. The Roman Catholics built a chapel, the Basilica of the Annunciation, over the cave where they think Mary’s family lived. Yep, another cave. Caves are all over Israel, and I remind you Jesus was both born in, and buried in, caves. Once again, western art gets it wrong: Mary’s family could hardly have afforded the Roman villas the art regularly depict her in. Nazareth wasn’t in Italy!

Jesus’s genealogy, in 𝘓𝘶𝘬𝘦.

Luke 3.23-38.

The second of Christ Jesus’s two different, contradictory-looking genealogies in the New Testament, is found in the gospel of Luke, right after Jesus’s baptism, right before Jesus’s temptation.

It’s an odd place to squeeze the genealogy in. Y’might notice 1 Chronicles begins with genealogy, and goes through it for whole chapters till it finally gets to Israeli history. Likewise Matthew begins with genealogy. But Luke likely tucked it here because Jesus had just been adopted—in the Roman sense of the Father formally declaring him his Son—so now Jesus’s ancestry comes into play.

And the Luke list goes back farther than Matthew. The other gospel only wanted to establish Jesus is King David ben Jesse’s heir, plus the spiritual heir (as well as literal descendant) of Abraham ben Terah. Those things would be important to Matthew’s readers, and because Matthew includes lots of biblical proof texts which Jesus fulfilled, most Christians assume Matthew was writing his gospel to Jews, who’d care about that stuff. Thing is, everybody cares about that stuff—if we care about the continuity between Old and New Testaments; if we care that Jesus is the legitimately prophesied Messiah. Yep, even gentiles care about the proof texts.

But Luke was likely writing to Romans like himself, and in ancient Roman culture, they didn’t care about whether you were descended from kings; Romans took pride in the fact they regularly overthrew kings. They cared about whether you were descended from gods.

And that is why Jesus’s genealogy in Luke goes all the way back. Luke is showing his readers Jesus wasn’t simply declared the Son of God by God himself; he’s a descendant of God. He has godhood in his bloodline.

Says so in his genealogy:

Luke 3.23-38 KWL

23Jesus himself is starting round his 30th year.

He’s legally the son of Joseph bar Ili—

24bar Maddát, bar Leví,

bar Malkhí, bar Yannaí, bar Joseph,

25bar Mattityáhu, bar Amos,

bar Nahum, bar Heslí, bar Naggaí,

26bar Mákhat, bar Mattityáhu,

bar Shimí, bar Yoshí, bar Yodáh,

27bar Yochanán, bar Reishá,

bar Zerubbabel, bar Shaltiél, bar Nerí,

28bar Malkhí, bar Adí,

bar Kosám, bar Elmadán, bar Er,

29bar Yeshúa, bar Eleázar,

bar Yorím, bar Mattát, bar Leví,

30bar Shimón, bar Judah,

bar Joseph, bar Jonám, bar Elyakím,

31bar Maláh, bar Manáh,

bar Mattatáh, bar Nathan, bar David,

32bar Jesse, bar Obed,

bar Boaz, bar Sheláh, bar Nakhshón,

33bar Amminadáv, bar Admín, bar Arní,

bar Hechrón, bar Pérech, bar Judah,

34bar Jacob, bar Isaac,

bar Abraham, bar Térakh, bar Nakhór,

35bar Serúg, bar Reú,

bar Péleg, bar Éver, bar Sheláh,

36bar Keïnán, bar Arfakhšád,

bar Shem, bar Noah, bar Lémekh,

37bar Metušelákh, bar Enoch,

bar Yéred, bar Mahalalél, bar Keïnán,

38bar Enósh, bar Šet,

bar Adam, bar God.

Jesus’s genealogy, in 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘸.

Matthew 1.1-17.

In the New Testament, Christ Jesus has two genealogies.

Two different genealogies. And they don’t line up. If that contradiction (or “bible difficulty,” as many Christians prefer to call it) makes you anxious, relax; I wrote about it elsewhere, so go read that piece. Today I just wanna look at the genealogy in Matthew. The author of that gospel decided to begin with it, ’cause he considered it important. And away we go.

Matthew 1.1 KWL

The book of the genesis of King Jesus,

son of David, son of Abraham.

Other translations have “Christ Jesus” or “Messiah Jesus.” Mostly because they’re going for literalness; the Greek word is Χριστοῦ/Hristú, “Christ,” which itself is a translation of מָשׁיִחַ/Mašíakh, “Messiah.” It literally meant “anointed [person],” so if you really wanna be literal, it should be “Jesus the Anointed One” every single time it says “Christ Jesus.”

But a literal translation isn’t always the best translation. Culturally, to first-century Israelis, Hristós and Mašíakh didn’t mean “anointed one”—it means king. It’s a royal title for Israeli kings. Unlike the pagan kings of countries round about, their king was anointed by the LORD, their real king, to be his vice-regent. Same as Samuel ben Elkanah anointed Saul ben Kish and David ben Jesse.

We Christians claim Jesus was anointed by the LORD, same as those guys, to rule Israel. And the world. He’s the king of Israel, but not just the king of Israel. So “Christ” means king. It’s not Jesus’s last name; he’s not the son of Joseph and Mary Christ. Nor is it a religious title; it doesn’t mean he’s a religious guru. It means he’s our king. Our only king. Human kings are usurpers and false Christs, and every last one of them has got to go. Even the nice ones. Especially the ones who claim they come in Jesus’s name.

Ancient Romans didn’t realize what Christ means, which is why ancient Christians used the title “Christ Jesus” instead of βασιλεύς Ἰησοῦς/vasileýs Yisús, “King Jesus.” Made it way less obvious they were talking about the One who’d overthrow the Roman Empire. Makes it way less obvious we are talking about the One who’ll one day overthrow the kingdoms of the world—including our own. So much less obvious, there are too many Christian nationalists who think Jesus would never overthrow the United States; that’s just treason-talk. But he will. The kingdoms of this world are gonna become the kingdoms of our God and his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever. Rv 11.15

Pharisees had taught first-century Israelis that Messiah would rule the world. Unfortunately, Jewish nationalists had taken this idea and thought Messiah would conquer their hated Roman occupiers, establish Israel’s independence, then go forth to conquer a ton of territory like Alexander of Macedon, and establish a new Israeli Empire. One even better than the Roman Empire, ’cause now it wouldn’t be run by dirty gentiles. Now gentiles would be the second-class citizens in their new Empire. Semite supremacy!

Yeah, there was a lot of racism wrapped up in Pharisee ideas about Messiah. Unfortunately that’s still true in popular interpretations about Jesus’s second coming. But I digress. Distorted perspectives aside, “King” is still the best interpretation of Hristú.

And though Jesus is a literal descendant of both David, the third king of Israel, and Abraham ben Terah, the ancestor of the Israelis, Edomites, and Arabs, the more important thing is Jesus is the fulfillment of their relationships with the LORD. Without Abraham’s faith in the LORD these people-groups wouldn’t even exist, much less be monotheists who pursued a living God instead of ridiculous pagan myths. Without David’s loyalty to God, the LORD wouldn’t have responded with any promise to make one of his descendants the greatest king ever.

Yep, all of that in the very first verse of the New Testament! But wait; there’s more.

The Feeding Five Thousand story.

Mark 6.38-44, Matthew 14.17-21, Luke 9.13-17.

This story also takes place in the gospel of John, but I tell John’s version of it elsewhere. Today I’m focusing on the way the synoptic gospels tell it. John’s emphasis, honestly, is on Jesus’s Bread of Life teachings later in the chapter. The synoptics… well, you’ll see.

The Feeding Five Thousand story is basically Jesus’s riff on a similar situation with Elisha ben Šafat.

2 Kings 4.1-7 NLT

1One day the widow of a member of the group of prophets came to Elisha and cried out, “My husband who served you is dead, and you know how he feared the LORD. But now a creditor has come, threatening to take my two sons as slaves.”

2“What can I do to help you?” Elisha asked. “Tell me, what do you have in the house?”

“Nothing at all, except a flask of olive oil,” she replied.

3And Elisha said, “Borrow as many empty jars as you can from your friends and neighbors. 4Then go into your house with your sons and shut the door behind you. Pour olive oil from your flask into the jars, setting each one aside when it is filled.”

5So she did as she was told. Her sons kept bringing jars to her, and she filled one after another. 6Soon every container was full to the brim!

“Bring me another jar,” she said to one of her sons.

“There aren’t any more!” he told her. And then the olive oil stopped flowing.

7When she told the man of God what had happened, he said to her, “Now sell the olive oil and pay your debts, and you and your sons can live on what is left over.”

God multiplied oil to bail out this prophet. God can likewise multiply food to feed the big crowd who’d accumulated to listen to Jesus’s teaching.

Often this story’s titled, “Jesus Feeds Five Thousand.” And yeah, I can understand how you’d get that idea if all you read was the John version. Now, pay closer attention to the text and you’ll notice something.

The Feeding Five Thousand story, in 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯.

John 6.8-13.

The way preachers tell this story, some boy volunteered his lunch, and Jesus multiplied it. I certainly hope the boy volunteered his lunch, because the text actually doesn’t say he did! The word for boy, παιδάριον/pedárion, is also slang for “slave,” and it’s entirely possible this was a slave’s lunch—and back then, people regularly forgot their manners with slaves, so it’s entirely possible one of Jesus’s students saw the lunch, said “Gimme that lunch!” and brought it to Jesus.

And yeah, we’d expect Jesus to respond to such behavior, “What is wrong with you? ‘Thou shalt not steal.’ We were just talking about that command last Tuesday. Go sit over there and think about what you’ve done. Son, I apologize for my student. Can I borrow your lunch? I promise I’ll give back even more.” But okay, let’s presume Jesus’s students knew better than to do any such thing.

The reason I translated ἄρτους/ártus, “breads,” as “pitas” is because that’s quite likely what they were: Flatbread. Smaller than naan or bagels, bigger than dinner rolls, but of course flat, ’cause of the way they were cooked on the side of a clay oven. Five was a small lunch—a child’s lunch, which is why it’s probably correct to say it came from a child instead of a slave. Made of barley instead of wheat; barley was cheaper, so this was likely a poor person’s lunch.

The synoptic gospels call the fish ἰχθύας/ikhthýas, “fishes,” which they were; but John identifies them as ὀψάρια/opsária, dried and salted fish, which you’d spread on the pitas if you didn’t only wanna eat bread. I translated them “anchovies,” which isn’t a precise translation, but it’s close enough. “Kippers” works too. You’ll notice in John, Jesus made the fish optional—if you wanted your pitas without fish, it’s fine. Even back then, not everybody liked anchovies!

Custom was for students to stand when the rabbi was talking. Now Jesus had them lie down, ’cause that’s how people ate in his culture.

John 6.8-13 KWL

8Simon Peter’s brother Andrew,

one of Jesus’s students, told him,

9“A boy is here who has five barley pitas and two anchovies,

but these things amount to what, for so many?”

10Jesus says, “Make the people recline.”

There’s a lot of grass on the ground, so the men recline.

Their number is like 5,000.

11So, taking the pitas and giving thanks to God,

Jesus distributes them to those reclining.

Likewise from the kippers—

as much as they want.

12Once they’re full, Jesus tells his students,

“Gather the overabundant scraps,

lest any of them perishes.”

13So they gather and fill 12 two-gallon baskets

with scraps of the five barley pitas

which exceeded what was eaten.

Preparing to feed the 5,000—in the synoptic gospels.

Mark 6.35-37, Matthew 14.15-16, Luke 9.12-13.

Though I’m going through John, and covering the Feeding Five Thousand Story from his POV, I pointed out all the gospels include this story: Both John, and the other three which we call synoptics, or synoptic gospels, ’cause they frequently share the same optics—they describe Jesus from the very same point of view. (Probably because Matthew and Luke are using Mark as source material. That’s the prevailing theory.)

John introduces the story with Jesus checking out the vast crowd, then asking his student Philip about buying bread for them Jn 6.5 —as a test, not because Jesus literally wanted him to buy bread, Jn 6.6 and to kinda give us an idea of the resources needed to feed such a crowd.

The other gospels approach it thisaway: It’s late, and the students think it’s high time Jesus’s audience went home.

Mark 6.35-37 KWL

35Since a late hour comes already,

Jesus’s students, coming to him, say,

“The place is wilderness

and it’s a late hour:

36Release them, so they go to the fields around, and villages;

they can buy themselves something they can eat.”

37AIn reply Jesus tells them,

“You give them something to eat.”

Matthew 14.15-16 KWL

15Becoming evening,

the students come to Jesus, saying,

“The place is wilderness

and the hour comes:

Release the crowd, so going to the villages

they can buy themselves food.”

16Jesus tells them, “They have no need to go.

“You give them something to eat.”

Luke 9.12-13 KWL

12The day begins to recline,

and the Twelve, coming up, tell Jesus,

“Release the crowd, so going to the villages around, and fields,

they can rest and can find provisions,

for here we are in a wilderness.”

13AJesus tells them,

“You give them something to eat.”

This differing point of view presents a minor bible difficulty: Is it Jesus’s students who notice the people getting hungry, and figure it’s time for them to leave and get food, or is it Jesus who notices, and decides it’s time to feed them? I say minor bible difficulty because it’s not at all hard to recognize both Jesus and his kids would realize it was time for dinner; and it’s not at all hard to imagine Jesus might talk to Philip about feeding them before he spoke to the rest of the Twelve.

Getting ready to feed 5,000.

John 6.1-7.

John didn’t write his gospel in chapters. Took a few centuries before some enterprising Christian divided the bible into chapters; took a bit longer before it was divided further into verses. But when John was divided into chapters, the editor largely did it right: In a lot of ’em, Jesus does a miracle, and there’s fallout as people argue over what this miracle means, and what it means about Jesus; and Jesus of course has to correct some of their wrong ideas. And today, popular Christian culture still pitches their theories about what these miracles and Jesus’s teachings mean, and the Holy Spirit of course has to correct some of our wrong ideas. Assuming we listen to him any.

So John 6 begins with the Feeding Five Thousand Story. All four gospels tell this story, ’cause it’s important: It reminds us God’s kingdom has unlimited resources. I’ll begin with the first part of the story.

John 6.1-7 KWL

1After these things, Jesus goes across the Galilean sea, Tiberias.

2A great crowd is following Jesus,

because they’re watching the signs

which he’s doing among the sick.

3Jesus goes up a hill with his students.

4It’s getting near the Judean feast of Passover.

5Jesus is lifting up his eyes,

seeing this great crowd come to him.

He tells Philip, “Where might we buy bread

so these people might eat?”

6Jesus is saying this test Philip,

for he already knew what he’s about to do.

7Philip is answering Jesus,

“The bread of 200 denarii isn’t enough for them!

—so each one might receive a little.”

The Galilean sea.

The 166km² freshwater lake in northern Israel—which we wouldn’t call a “sea,” but the ancient Galileans proudly did—was originally called כִּנְּרוֹת/Khinnerót, “harps,” although in modern Hebrew it means “violins.” Supposedly the name is because it’s harp-shaped. Meh; kinda. Considering that place names in the bible were regularly the result of something happening there, instead of what something kinda looked like, my bet is something involving multiple harps happened there—a contest, a festival, a popular harp-manufacturer; whatever. The origin is lost to history, of course.

Anyway, by Jesus’s day, Herod Antipas had renamed it Τιβεριάς/Tiveriás, “Tiberias,” after the city he’d founded on its southern bank, which he named to suck up to the Roman emperor, Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus. There’s no evidence Herod suppressed the original name—Luke still calls it “the lake of Genessaret,” Lk 5.1 ’cause Γεννησαρέτ/Ghennisarét is how Greek-speakers mangled the name Khinnerót. But Tiberias is how people outside Israel came to know it, which is why John used that name thrice.

We don’t know where the feeding took place. Some Christians have speculated it happened at Tiberias—that this is why the word Τιβεριάδος/Tiveriádos is in verse 1—but no; John was just using the proper name of the Galilean sea. We only know it didn’t happen at Bethsaida, ’cause Jesus goes there later.

Anyway. Crowds heard about Jesus curing people, so they wanted to check him out for themselves. And he did cure some of them. Mt 14.14, Lk 9.11 Then he climbs a hill, not to get away from them (although there is some of that), but so he can be seen, and maybe heard. The other gospels say he took advantage of the situation and taught ’em all day long. Mk 6.34-36 Maybe the Sermon on the Mount again; maybe something else. We don’t know.

Angry Jesus.

Some weeks ago I was speaking with someone about blogging on the gospel according to John. He expressed some excitement about it.

HE. “Oh yeah! You at the parts where Jesus really tears the Pharisees a new one?”

ME. “Getting there.”

HE. “I love that part.”

Doesn’t surprise me. He gets really, really angry at people whom he considers his political enemies, and loves to imagine himself tearing them a new one. Stands to reason he’d love seeing that same level of anger in Jesus.

And let’s be honest: Jesus does get angry sometimes! I’m not one of those interpreters who insist Jesus never did; that “God’s wrath” and “the day of wrath” are metaphors, or anthropomorphic euphemisms, for what’s really going on in God’s head, because God never really gets angry. Or insist, like the medieval scholastics used to argue, God can’t have legitimate human-type emotions, because that’d interfere with his immutable nature. (God does have an immutable, i.e. unchanging, nature. But the scholastics borrowed way too many ideas from Aristotle and the ancient Greeks, and went a bit wonky.)

Nope; sometimes God gets angry! We humans can legitimately piss him off. Whenever we openly defy him when we clearly know better; whenever we pretend to be righteous, but are hypocritically using our phony “righteousness” to stick it to others; whenever we take advantage of the weak and needy and marginalized, and assume we can easily get away with it because nobody’s watching. Human evil regularly enrages God.

It’s why the prophets and apostles kept pointing to a day when God would finally put things right—and called it “the day of the LORD’s wrath.” Ek 7.19, Zp 1.18, Ro 2.5, Rv 6.17 Because they expected, if not wanted, God to open up a can of whup-ass on humanity’s evildoers. (Presuming we’re not among them!)

But back to Jesus. Did Jesus get angry? Duh:

Mark 3.5 NLT

He looked around at them angrily and was deeply saddened by their hard hearts. Then he said to the man, “Hold out your hand.” So the man held out his hand, and it was restored!

In that story, Jesus was in synagogue, the people brought him a guy with a paralyzed hand, and accusers were watching Jesus to see whether he’d cure the guy, specifically so they could condemn him for “working” on Sabbath. Jesus rightly pointed out you can make exceptions for good deeds on Sabbath, Mk 3.4 but they didn’t wanna hear it. This was a setup; they weren’t interested in reason or God’s will; they just wanted to stick it to Jesus, and this guy with the messed-up hand was just a pawn in all this. Of course it made him angry. Shouldn’t it?

But I should also point out two things: This is the only place in the gospels where Jesus is said to be angry; and Jesus doesn’t act on his anger. At all. He cures the guy—which is something he’d have done either way, happy or angry. He doesn’t yell at the hypocrites; he doesn’t stop teaching and storm out of synagogue; he doesn’t make a whip out of rope and start flogging them.

Oh yeah; the story where Jesus makes a whip and drives the merchants and animals out of the temple. Christians constantly presume he’s angry in that story, ’cause flipping tables and cracking a whip sure sounds violent! But does the scripture say what his mood was when this happened? Raging like the Hulk in the comic books and movies? Or annoyed—“Aw nuts, this again”—and patiently moving their profit-making venture out of God’s sacred prayer space?

See, we’re projecting anger upon Jesus because we would get angry in these circumstances. We’re projecting anger upon Jesus whenever he condemns hypocrites, rebukes the thoughtless behavior of his students, or calls things as he sees ’em—and these things are pretty messed up! We would be angry.

And some of us don’t really give a wet crap about injustice and hypocrisy: We’re already angry. Injustice is just a convenient excuse to rage a bit, under the guise of “righteous anger.” But anger’s a work of the flesh, and we’re not following Jesus’s example and refusing to act upon it: We’re Hulking out.

Those accepting everyone and everything but Jesus.

John 5.41-47.

People regularly misunderstand this next bit because they regularly misdefine the word δόξα/dóxa, which Jesus uses throughout. The KJV translates it as “honour”—or as we Americans spell it thanks to Noah Webster, “honor.” And in American culture, “honor” means high respect. Great esteem. Reverence. Praises. Sometimes even worship… which makes some of us uncomfortable when people are getting honored like this, ’cause it can almost feel like idolatry. Honestly, sometimes it’s totally idolatry.

But dóxa doesn’t indicate a high opinion of someone; it just indicates one’s opinion. Good and respectable… or bad and infamous. It can go every which way. True, when Jesus is talking about the opinion people have of him, he rightly expects it should be a good one. He’s a good guy! He’s loving, kind, patient, generous, joyous; he exhibits all the Spirit’s fruit ’cause he’s loaded with the Holy Spirit. Jn 3.34 He never sins! Plus there’s the miracles—you remember this whole discourse was triggered by him curing someone who’d been disabled for decades. He’s done all sorts of good deeds like that. And let’s not forget he knows a ton about God and his kingdom.

Such a person should have the best reputation, whether it’s among devout religious people like himself, or among pagans who weren’t religious whatsoever, but who could nonetheless recognize a legitimately good, compassionate, and authentic guy when they saw him. Plenty of Christian ministers have just this kind of reputation: They’re well-known for their good character and good deeds, and everyone in their community respects ’em.

And then there’s Jesus among the people of Jerusalem. And they’re giving him crap because he cured the guy on Sabbath, and this must therefore mean he’s… evil? Wait, why’d they suddenly leap to that extreme? How messed-up is their thinking?

But lemme tell you: I run into plenty of people with the very same messed-up thinking. So have you. People who can’t fathom that a Christian minister is even Christian, simply because he’s a member of the wrong political party. Or because they don’t believe the Spirit does miracles anymore, and figure this person can’t possibly be doing miracles in the Spirit’s power; it’s gotta be the devil—and so they go straight to blaspheming the Spirit.

What’s their problem? It’s exactly the same diagnosis Jesus gives to his critics in Jerusalem: They don’t have God’s love within them. And without this particular fruit, no one can be trusted. No one can be loved. Jesus must be trying to deceive them for some reason, and no doubt they have plenty of paranoid, delusional guesses as to why. And since they imagine themselves devout, they’re pretty sure God gave them the power to discern just what he’s up to—and the power to ignore everything he says in his defense.

John 5.41-47 KWL

41“I don’t seek a reputation from people.

42But I knew you people:

You don’t have God’s love within yourselves.

43I came in my Father’s name

and you don’t accept me.

Another might come in their own name;

you’ll accept that person.

44How are you able to trust anyone?

You actually accept one another’s reputations?

You don’t seek the reputation which only comes from God?

45Don’t imagine I’ll accuse you before the Father:

Your accuser is Moses.

You once put your hope in him.

46For if you’re still trusting Moses,

it’s me you’re trusting,

for Moses writes about me!

47If you don’t trust those writings,

how will you trust my words?”

Proof in Jesus’s favor—if you’re willing to see it.

John 5.30-40.

You might recall the story where Jesus cures some guy at a pool in Jerusalem. He’d been disabled for decades; people should’ve been rejoicing at this, ’cause God has a prophet in Israel who can cure the sick!

But instead the Judeans pitched a fit: Jesus cured this guy on Sabbath. To hypocrites like these guys, it sets a bad precedent: If God empowers good deeds on Sabbath, now they might have to do good deeds on Sabbath! Hence all their ridiculous arguments about how Jesus can’t be of God; God would never. Exactly the same as hypocrites nowadays, when they don’t care to help the needy, and offer ridiculous objections about any Christians who do. “Oh those people are active, unrepentant sinners,” as if Jesus didn’t regularly eat with sinners. “Oh those people are breaking the law,” as if Jesus didn’t likewise interact with people who violated the laws of Israel and God. But I digress.

Jesus correctly points out he can cure on Sabbath because his Father authorized him to do so. Because he is the Son of Man. This, despite all the obvious evidence Jesus is exactly who he says he is, his Judean critics didn’t care to hear.

Now before we get to today’s passage, I need to explain some of the historical and biblical context so it makes sense. Otherwise you’re just gonna read it and go, “Hmm. Why does Jesus say his testimony isn’t true?”

Elsewhere in John’s gospel, certain Pharisees object to Jesus’s teachings on legal grounds. No they’re not in a courtroom; no they don’t need to follow courtroom proceedings! But if you’ve ever debated someone, you might notice how, every once in a while, they might try to base some of their arguments and defenses on legal procedure and precedent. As if we’re in a courtroom, or in Congress, which we’re not. It’s not actually a valid debate tactic, but they’ll try it out anyway, and hope you never call ’em on it.

John 8.13 NRSVue

Then the Pharisees said to him, “You are testifying on your own behalf; your testimony is not valid.”

Literally they said ἀληθής/alithís, “true,” but no they weren’t accusing Jesus of lying (like the NKJV and other translations have it). Historical context, folks. Testifying about yourself didn’t count in court. It wasn’t “true,” i.e. valid, unless you had a second witness to confirm you. Like Moses put it:

Deuteronomy 19.15 NRSVue

“A single witness shall not suffice to convict a person of any crime or wrongdoing in connection with any offense that may be committed. Only on the evidence of two or three witnesses shall a charge be sustained.”

I should point out some commentators claim Judeans wouldn’t accept anyone’s testimony about themselves: If you were ever put on trial, you had to be silent, because your testimony didn’t count. This is of course rubbish; if you’ve read your bible you know people regularly spoke up at their trials. Jesus, Peter and John, Stephen, and Paul all made statements at their trials; Stephen took up an entire chapter. Ac 7 Jesus was even sentenced to death on his testimony: Nobody else’s testimony was proven valid! Mk 14.56-59 But Jesus testified he’s Messiah, Mt 26.63-66 and his testimony was certainly valid. Self-testimony certainly could be. Jn 8.14 It’s just Jesus’s listeners, in this case and others, wanted more witnesses.

Now whenever Jesus made significant statements, he usually started ’em with “Amen,” which gets translated “Verily verily” in the KJV, and “Very truly I tell you” in the NIV and NRSVue. He did so before these statements too. Jn 5.19, 24, 25 It’s actually an oath: He swears what he’s saying is true. He is the Son of Man; he will judge the world on the Father’s behalf. But yeah, by legal standards, he only provided his own testimony, so it shouldn’t hold up in court.

Thing is, they weren’t in court! (Well, there’s the court of public opinion, but you know how lawless that can get.) But if you wanna challenge Jesus on a point of Law, you’re in for it: Jesus knows the Law better than anyone. Whom do you think gave it to Moses? Yes, the correct answer is “the LORD”—and that’s Jesus.

So he’ll play along. You demand a second testimony? Fine; he’s got witnesses.

How Jesus submits to his Father.

John 5.30.

After Jesus cured some guy, the Judeans objected because he did it on sabbath, so Jesus went into a teaching about how he works because his Father works—and he’s also gonna judge the world at the End.

He ends this declaration with this statement, which I figured I’d discuss on its own because it has to do with how Jesus submits to his Father. Submission is a loaded concept for certain Christians—especially since some of ’em are interpreting the idea in ways which wind up going heretic. So it’s turned this statement into a loaded one.

Statement first though.

John 5.30 KWL

“I can’t do anything on my own.

I judge just as I hear,

and my judgment is fair

because I don’t seek my own will,

but the will of the One who sends me.”

Just to remind you: Separation of powers is an American thing. Our executives don’t judge, and our judges don’t carry out their rulings but have cops and marshals who do that. But that’s obviously not how ancient kings work. Kings were the supreme rulers of their land, and were by themselves the supreme court—if a king ruled, there’s no overruling him.

Our ideas of plaintiffs and defendants, who got to argue their case before the judge; of laws and precedents the king was supposed to follow: Those are important. If the king actually follows those things, you’ll get a fair trial. But despots don’t care about any of those things, and do as they please. Rogue Supreme Courts ignore the Constitution and precedents, ignore the people who argued in front of them, rule according to their agendas, and make up ridiculous arguments to defend their rulings. Ancient and medieval kings didn’t even bother to defend themselves; they figured they had every right to rule as they pleased. Fairness? Fairness doesn’t matter.

In comparison, Jesus says he’s not a despot. He doesn’t judge on his own. He judges as he hears, meaning he listens to the plaintiffs and defendants before him. He follows a Law which defines good and evil. He takes God’s will into consideration; not his own.

As any good Israeli king should. As Solomon did. And of course, as Romans didn’t—they might be bothered to have fair trials when it was a fellow Roman on trial, like Paul, but if you didn’t have citizenship they’d simply torture you, as they almost did Paul. Ac 22.24-27 Or they’d delay your trial ’cause they wanted a bribe, likewise as they did with Paul. Ac 24.25 Right here, Jesus is contrasting his fair and righteous rule with that of Romans—and corrupt judges, like the senators who later sentenced him to death.

Because being a fair judge is what God wants. God cares about truth. God doesn’t want people unjustly punished and penalized. God doesn’t want the guilty to go free, the evildoer to unrepentantly get away with it. Corrupt judges look the other way because they favor the rich and powerful, and maybe want their wealthy friends to take ’em on vacations and help ’em buy RVs. Jesus in contrast will always rule fairly. Always.

But let’s be honest: Jesus totally has an agenda. He’s totally biased. He admits it. Ignore all those Christians who claim Jesus and God are the only unbiased judges in the universe; of course the LORD is biased. Fortunately for us, grace means he’s biased in our favor, which is why Jesus says in this very same passage, “I promise you the one who hears my word, and trusts the One who sends me, has life in the age to come and doesn’t go into judgment.” Jn 5.24 KWL Those who follow Jesus don’t get a trial! They go straight into the age to come. That’s the team we wanna be on.

So what other bias does Jesus confess to? He says it right there in today’s verse: “I don’t seek my own will, but the will of the One who sends me.” He’s not a despot who does whatever he wants; he only wants to do as the Father wants. The Father is a righteous judge; therefore the Son’s gonna be a righteous judge.

If you’re anxious Jesus is gonna be furious at sin, much like angry preachers are… well okay, he certainly hates sin. Especially when people exploit the poor and needy, and figure it’s okay because they went through all the proper religious motions to wipe out all their bad karma. The LORD already said, through Isaiah, he’s not listening to such people. Is 1.15 He wants ’em to repent!

Therefore he’s gonna be a righteous judge—who may be exorbitantly lenient on those who follow him, but judges everyone else fairly, on merit. And while there are many Christians who insist only the people who follow Jesus are gonna enter the age to come, I’m pretty sure Jesus is gonna extend grace to a lot more people than they’re expecting. People who honestly didn’t know any better; people who died before hearing the gospel, so they’re not penalized for rejecting it; babies who died before they could hear it, of course. Jesus is far more gracious than angry preachers. Or me!—there’s lots of people I wouldn’t let in, but thankfully I’m not the judge.

The implications of being the Son of Man.

John 5.24-29.

On occasion I’ll hear some Christian preacher claim that Jesus referring to God as “Father”—whether he’s talking about God as his Father, or God as our Father—was a wholly unique thing in history; that somehow the Jews had never before imagined God as their Father. It’s not true—

Deuteronomy 32.6 KJV

Do ye thus requite the LORD, O foolish people and unwise? is not he thy father that hath bought thee? hath he not made thee, and established thee?

Psalm 89.26 KJV

He shall cry unto me, Thou art my father, my God, and the rock of my salvation.

Isaiah 63.16 KJV

Doubtless thou art our father, though Abraham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not: thou, O LORD, art our father, our redeemer; thy name is from everlasting.

Isaiah 64.8 KJV

But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.

Malachi 1.6 KJV

A son honoureth his father, and a servant his master: if then I be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith the LORD of hosts unto you, O priests, that despise my name. And ye say, Wherein have we despised thy name?

—but man do preachers like to claim it.

Anyway, Jesus regularly refers to God as our Father, and specifically his Father… but whereas we humans are just creations and adoptive children of our heavenly Father, Jesus is something significantly different. He’s the Son of God. And no, not just “Son of God” in the sense we see in Psalm 2, where the king of Israel is especially adopted by God as his son, and therefore “Son of God” is just a royal title like Messiah. Nope; in the trinity there’s a Father and Son, and the Son became human, and that’s Jesus of Nazareth. He’s fully God same as his Father is fully God.

In John chapter 5, Jesus explains some of that idea. And it’s a doozy of an idea. Pretty sure it broke the brains of most of the Judeans he said it to. Because Jesus is making some pretty cosmic declarations about himself. He already said in the last bit the Father shows the Son everything he does, Jn 5.20 the Son’s gonna raise the dead, Jn 5.21 the Son’s gonna judge the world, Jn 5.22 and you’d better recognize the Son’s authority if you respect the Father. Jn 5.23

Oh, and at the End, the coming in the clouds of the Son of Man? Da 7.13 That’s Jesus. He’s the Son of Man. Did you not notice he constantly calls himself “the Son of Man”? He doesn’t do it to remind people he’s human; anybody who looked at him could tell he was human. He does it to remind people he’s that guy. The guy who does all this:

John 5.24-29 KWL

24 “Amen amen! I promise you the one who hears my word,

and trusts the One who sends me,

has life in the age to come

and doesn’t go into judgment.

Instead they passed from death into life.

25 Amen amen! I promise you the hour comes, and it’s now,

when the dead will hear God’s Son’s voice,

and those who will hear it, will live.

26 For just as the Father has life in himself,

likewise he gives life to the Son to have in himself.

27 The Father gives the Son power to make judgments,

because he’s the Son of Man.

28 Don’t be amazed by this, because the hour comes

in which everyone in the sepulchers

will hear the Son of Man’s voice

29 and come out—

those who do good, into resurrection life;

those who do little, into resurrection judgment.”

You realize this discussion started because some people got bent out of shape over Jesus curing the sick on sabbath. And people think I go off on tangents. Jesus went from, “My Father worketh hitherto, and I work” Jn 5.17 KJV to “Oh and just to remind you, I’m the Son of Man.”

It’s weird how various pagans will insist Jesus was only a great moral teacher and nothing more, when Jesus straight-up tells people he’s going to raise the dead, judge humanity, and rule the world. And people don’t dismiss him as a demonized madman and stone him to death, because he just cured a guy who was unable to walk for 38 years, and demonized guys can’t do that. The only ones who can do that, outside of hospitals, were empowered by God—and for all you know, might actually be the great End Times figure whose everlasting kingdom shall not be destroyed. Da 7.14

The implications of being God’s son.

John 5.17-23.

After Jesus cured some guy at a pool, the Judeans objected because he’d done so on sabbath. Now in the synoptic gospels, Jesus’s defense was usually along the lines of, “Curing the sick is a good deed, and doing good deeds on sabbath doesn’t violate the Law.” In John however, his defense is entirely different:

John 5.17-18 KWL

17 Jesus answers them, “Even today, my Father works.

And I work.”

18 So this is why the Judeans are seeking all the more to kill him:

Not only is Jesus loosening sabbath custom,

but he’s saying God is his own father,

making himself equal to God.

Y’see, there’s a really profound legal concept embedded in Jesus’s statement, “My Father worketh hitherto, and I work.” Jn 5.17 KJV It’s something you’re gonna miss if you don’t understand how adoption in the Roman Empire worked. Instead you’re gonna wind up making the foolish assumption many an Evangelical has: They think Jesus told the Judeans, “God’s not bound by your customs and Law, and neither am I.” Therefore he can break the Law. With impunity. Kinda like they do.

If Jesus is claiming he has the almighty prerogative to do as he pleases, including break whatever commands he wished, then Jesus could sin like crazy. It’s why lawless Christians love this interpretation—it gives them license to sin like crazy. Grace forgives everything, right? So let’s get nuts!

It turns Jesus into a major jerk—which is an obvious sign that’s not what he meant. If any interpretation of God violates his character, it’s wrong. It’s based on our bad attitudes, not his.

Jesus isn’t claiming he can do as he pleases. He’s claiming he does as the Father does. And the Father is benevolent, kind, generous, compassionate, forgiving. He does good deeds every day of the week, sabbath included. Ever been sick, and got well on a Saturday morning? Looks like God cured you on sabbath too.

Likewise Jesus is kind. His goal is always to demonstrate his Father’s love, and in so doing reveal who the Father is, and the sort of kingdom the Father’s given him to rule. Bear that in mind whenever you read the gospels.

Okay, on to what Jesus actually means. And why it outraged the Judeans.

“But you cured them on 𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩.”

John 5.8-16, Luke 13.10-17.

So Jesus goes to Jerusalem and cures some guy at a pool. I’ll quote the pertinent part:

John 5.8-9 KWL

8 Jesus tells him, “Get up.

Pick up your bed and walk.”

9 At once the person becomes whole.

He picks up his bed and walks.

It’s the sabbath on that day.

In case you missed it, the last line of verse 9 points out that day was sabbath. That’d be Saturday, the seventh day of the week; the day on which the LORD told Israel he wanted ’em to not work. There’s a whole command about it:

Deuteronomy 5.12-14 KJV

12 Keep the sabbath day to sanctify it, as the LORD thy God hath commanded thee. 13 Six days thou shalt labour, and do all thy work: 14 but the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thine ox, nor thine ass, nor any of thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; that thy manservant and thy maidservant may rest as well as thou. 15 And remember that thou wast a servant in the land of Egypt, and that the LORD thy God brought thee out thence through a mighty hand and by a stretched out arm: therefore the LORD thy God commanded thee to keep the sabbath day.

Everybody got that? No worky. Not you, nor your kids, nor your employees, nor your animals, nor “shabbos goys”—which is what certain American Jews call their gentile friends who do things for ’em on sabbath so they won’t break the command. They might think having their gentile neighbor pick up a pizza for ’em isn’t suborning a commandment violation. But it totally is.

Pharisees got mighty specific about what constitutes rest. The Mishna has a whole section, or tractate, called Shabbát. It’s all about what you can and can’t do on sabbath. There are 39 specific Pharisee rules about what not to do. No planting, plowing, reaping, gathering, threshing, winnowing, etc. Picking up your bed broke the 39th rule: No moving something from one significant place to another.

Yet here was this guy, carrying his bed. Because Jesus, who cured him, told him to do it.

John 5.10-13 KWL

10 So the Judeans are telling the cured person, “It’s sabbath!

It’s not right for you to pick up your bed.”

11 The cured person answers them, “He who makes me whole—

that person tells me, ‘Pick up your bed and walk.’ ”

12 They question him, “Who is the person

who tells you, ‘Pick it up and walk’?”

13 The cured person didn’t know who Jesus is,

for Jesus slipped into the crowd in that place.

The man at the pool.

John 5.1-9.

There are two back-to-back stories of Jesus curing people in John, but because they’re in two different chapters, Christians tend not to nice they’re right by each other. On purpose. ’Cause they happen some time apart. The first, where Jesus cures a royal’s son, happens in western Galilee right after they got back from Jerusalem. The second, where Jesus cures a weak man at a pool, takes place back in Jerusalem—either at the next festival where they were expected to go to temple, or several festivals later; maybe even years later. We don’t know.

The situation is this: Jesus is back in Jerusalem, and in Jerusalem there’s a pool. The UBS and NA Greek New Testaments identify it as Βηθζαθά/Vithzathá, although most bibles go with the name given by the Textus Receptus, Βηθεσδά/Vithesdá (KJV “Bethesda”) and other ancient copies of John call it Βηθσαιδά/Vithsedá, Βηδσαιδά/Vidsedá, Βηδσαιδάν/Vidsedán, and Βελζεθά/Velzethá. All of these are attempts to transliterate the Aramaic name בית זיתא/Beit Cheytá, the name of a district in first-century Jerusalem which Josephus calls “the New City.” The district was next to the Roman fortress, Antonia, located on the NNW corner of the temple mount, and the pool was within this district. It was created around the 700s BC as a reservoir for rainwater, and around 200 BC the head priest, Simon bar Onias (also known as Simon 2), had a second pool created just south of it. Scholars figure it was so one pool could hold warm water, and the other cold, so you could bathe in whatever temperature you pleased.

Because it’s by the Sheep Gate, popular legend says the pool was created to wash sheep before their ritual sacrifice. Problem is, the pool is 13 meters deep, which is more appropriate for drowning sheep. So no, it’s likely not for washing animals. (That’s what they used Siloam for.) More likely this pool was mainly used for ritual washing. People had to get ritually clean before they could go to temple, so here’s where they did it.

The Israel Museum’s model of the “Pool of Bethesda” during the first century. Without the water of course. John describes it with five colonnades—the four around the whole complex, and one in the middle over the wall between the pools. [Wikimedia]

After the Romans destroyed Jerusalem, the pool was made part of a pagan temple to Asclepius and Serapis, the Roman and Egyptian gods of healing. When the Roman Empire became Christian, it was turned into the Church of the Sheep, which was destroyed in 614 by the Persians. The Crusaders rebuilt it as a smaller church, the Church of the Paralytic, which fell into disuse after the crusaders built the larger Church of St. Anne nearby. That church was renovated by the French in the 1800s, but the rest remained ruins, later to be excavated by German archaeologist Conrad Schick.

Today, the Sheep Gate is known as the Lion’s Gate (Hebrew שער האריות/shahar ha-Arayót), named for the leopard carvings in the stone above it, which get confused with lions. It’s the entrance to the Muslim quarter. The pool’s still there, as part of the St. Anne’s church complex.

But let’s get back to Jesus’s day. At that time, the pool was a healing pool: Sick people gathered round it, hoping for a miracle.

John 5.1-4 KWL

1 After these events there’s a Judean feast,

and Jesus goes up to Jerusalem.

2 A pool is in Jerusalem, by the Sheep Gate

—in Aramaic it’s called Beit Cheytá—

having five colonnades.

3 Under these colonnades lay a large number

of weak, blind, lame, shriveled people,

{waiting for the water to move.

4 For an angel comes down to the pool at times,

and agitates the water,

so the first who enters after the water is agitated

becomes whole from whatever ailment he has.}

Verses 3B–4 first appeared in fourth-century copies of John, and were of course added to the Textus Receptus. They provide kind of a backstory to why all these people were gathered round the pool: Whenever the water moved, they figured an angel was causing it, and hoped it’d heal them. My only problem with this theory is it sounds a lot like pagan superstition; like something the Greeks would claim. “Look, a lesser god is moving the water! Jump in!” But is that what people believed in the first century? Or what people believed in the fourth century, after a few centuries of Greco-Roman pagans had overseen the pool, and added their own superstitions to the pool’s history?

Now we do know the water was agitated, for that’s what the weak man says. Jn 5.7 But it didn’t have to be roiled up by an angel. It coulda happened whenever the water was replenished. Or when an attendant dumped a bunch of bath salts into it. Or when crowds of people came to town and needed ritual washing. Anything coulda moved the water—and people might figure, “Fresh water” or “Ritual washing” or “Fresh salts” or any of those things might somehow make the water holier, and therefore more likely to cure ’em.

But the angel story has been in bibles, including the Vulgate, for a mighty long time. And you know how people are with favorite traditions: They’re loath to give ’em up, no matter how wrong and misguided they might be.

Still, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if this was a myth these sick people believed. They wanted to get well, and healthcare didn’t exist back then. Their “physicians” were actually witch doctors, and had no real medical nor scientific training. Their faith healers might be legit—might actually have the Holy Spirit empowering them—but then again might not, or might be frauds. So what other options did you have? Well, there was a rumor if you got in the pool at just the right time, you’d get cured. So here they were.

If it all sounds hopeless to you—and it kinda does to me too—y’notice the people gathered round the pool had to have some small degree of hope, or they wouldn’t be there! (Or, which is just as likely, their family members wouldn’t carry them there, day after day, in the hopes something might happen.) Hey, what else are you gonna do? Who else are you gonna turn to?

So this is the depressing situation Jesus walked into one day… to bring somebody out of it.

The first time Jesus cured anyone.

John 4.46-54.

While Jesus and his students were staying in Cana (where they didn’t respect him as a prophet, so he didn’t have to deal with people seeking “Jesus the Prophet” all day), a certain royal showed up. Probably specifically to seek him out: Someone did respect Jesus the Prophet.

John 4.46 KWL

46 Jesus goes again to Cana of Galilee,

where he made the water wine.

A certain royal is there,

whose son in Capharnaum is sick.

John calls him a βασιλικὸς/vasilikós, “a royal.” Not a king, but someone in the royal family; debatably a servant in the royal household, but that’s far less likely. Could be someone who might actually become king himself someday, but if that’s so you’d think John woulda named names.

Both John Wycliffe and the Geneva Bible translated vasilikós as “little king.” But for some reason the King James translated it “nobleman,” and that concept has kinda stuck in translators’ heads ever since. You get “royal official” (Amplified, CSB, NASB, NET, NIV, NRSV), “government official” (ISV, GNB, and NLT), plain ’ol “official” (ESV), and of course “nobleman” (NKJV, MEV).

Regardless, he was a big deal—and word leaked to him Jesus might be the sort of person who could do miracles. And when you’re desperate, you’ll jump all over that sort of rumor. So this royal saddled up, rode 30 kilometers across the province, and called upon some obscure Nazarene rabbi.

John 4.47 KWL

Once this royal heard

Jesus comes from Judea to the Galilee,

he goes to Jesus

and asks whether Jesus might come down

and cure his son,

for he’s about to die.