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 Some have clearly been superseded by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit; the ritual cleanliness rules are an obvious example.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 you² 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:²

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:

They¹ 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 you² this:

Unless your² rightness superabounds—

more than scribes and Pharisees—

you² might not enter heaven’s kingdom.”

“Suffered under Pontius Pilate.”

In both the Nicene and Apostles Creed, a certain Roman official gets mentioned by name—specifically so the creeds can cement Christ Jesus’s death at a specific point in history. Σταυρωθέντα τε ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν ἐπὶ Ποντίου Πιλάτου/stavrothénta te ypér epí Pontíu Pilátu, “He was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate.”

In order to keep their neighbors from conquering them, the Hasmonean priest-kings of Judea made a protection treaty with the Romans, and Herod Antipater 1 had taken advantage of his friendship with Roman senators to get the Romans on his side when he overthrew the Hasmoneans and made himself king. But when Herod died, Caesar Augustus overturned his will, overthrew Herod’s chosen successor Herod Archelaus, split Israel into quarters, gave a quarter to the squabbling Herod brothers Philip and Antipas, and made himself king of the two most important quarters. Now Ceasar was king of Judea—and since he was busy running Rome, he sent others to govern Judea for him. Pontíus Pilátus poʊn'ti.us pi'læt.us was the sixth of these governors, in office from 26 to 36CE.

The KJV renders his name as Pontius Pilate, which Americans usually pronounce 'pɑn.tʃəs 'paɪ.lət, and since the bible tends to call him Pilate, we presume that’s his family name. Other way round: Romans did their names the same way eastern Asians do. Pontius is his nomen, the family name. Pilatus is his personal name—and y’notice the bible’s authors tended to go with personal names.

The Pilate stone, on display in Jerusalem. Wikimedia

The reason we know so much more about Pontius than his predecessors or successors, is obviously ’cause Jesus was executed under his rule, so he has our attention. We know of him from the gospels, from historians Flavius Josephus and Publius Cornelius Tacitus, and from contemporary philosopher Philo of Alexandria. Plus in 1961 archaeologist Antonio Frova found the Pilate stone, a limestone block with “Pilatus” carved on it, dating from Pontius’s term, whch confirms he’s not fiction.

Unfortunately after Jesus’s death and resurrection, a lot of Christians made up a lot of fanfiction. It means Pontius’s history beyond these first-century sources isn’t reliable. But I’ll briefly go over what we have.

The world’s light.

Mark 4.21, Matthew 5.14-16, Luke 8.16, 11.33, John 8.12.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells his students they’re the light of the world. And multiple times in John, Jesus himself is declared the light of the world. Here, I’ve got one of those passages lined up for you.

Matthew 5.14 KWL

“You’re* the world’s light.

A city can’t be hidden when it lies on a hill.”

John 8.12 KWL

So Jesus spoke again, saying, “I’m the world’s light.

My followers should never walk in the dark,

but will have light and life.”

So which is it? Both, obviously.

It’s not a contradiction. Jesus is the true light who entered the world; Jn 1.9 as long as he’s in the world he enlightens it; Jn 9.5 whoever believes in him needn’t live in the dark; Jn 12.46 he reflects the fact that God is light. 1Jn 1.5 And we’re the light of the world when we follow his example, and reveal to the world God’s kingdom is near, same as Jesus did. Once we were darkness, but now light, Ep 5.8 for since God’s now our Father, we are light’s children, 1Th 5.5 shining as lights in this dark world. Pp 2.15

Yep, this light metaphor is all over the bible. Wouldn’t hurt us to read up on it, and see all the different ways God wants us to carry his light. 2Co 4.6

Starting with the city-on-a-hill idea. Nowadays we don’t create cities on hills. When developers create a town, they place them somewhere convenient: Outside bigger cities, near main roads, a place easy to access. Hills aren’t so easy, plus there’s all the hassle of building on a hill. Put a city on a hill, and it’ll nearly always be an expensive city. But back in ancient times, rulers worried about invasion, and figured a hill was easier to defend than a plain. Plus they could see their enemies coming. The downside was their cities were very visible-especially at night, with all their torches burning.

That’s the trait Jesus wants his followers to have: We oughta be nice and obvious. (True, it makes us more visible to enemies, but let’s not hang up on the negative.) If Christianity is a city on a hill, we Christians need to be visible. No hiding our faith. No concealing who it is we follow.

St. Patrick’s Breastplate.

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day, so I posted his Confession. The other thing he’s known for writing—and okay, he may not have written it at all, but it’s had his name on it for centuries—is called St. Patrick’s Breastplate. It’s sometimes called his Lorica; that’s just Latin for breastplate.

It’s not a literal breastplate. It’s a hymn, which tends to be recited as a rote prayer. Sometimes people set it to music though. It was written in Old Irish, and English translations vary. Here’s one of them.

I arise today through a mighty strength,

the invocation of the trinity,

through belief in the threeness,

through confession of the oneness

of the Creator of creation.

I arise today through the strength of Christ with his baptism,

through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,

through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,

through the strength of his descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today through the strength of the love of cherubim

in obedience of angels,

in the service of the archangels,

in hope of resurrection to meet with reward,

in prayers of patriarchs,

in predictions of prophets,

in preaching of apostles,

in faiths of confessors,

in innocence of holy virgins,

in deeds of righteous men.

I arise today through the strength of heaven—

light of sun, brilliance of moon,

splendor of fire, speed of lightning,

swiftness of wind, depth of sea,

stability of earth, firmness of rock.

I arise today through God’s strength to pilot me—

God’s might to uphold me, God’s wisdom to guide me,

God’s eye to look before me, God’s ear to hear me,

God’s word to speak for me, God’s hand to guard me,

God’s way to lie before me, God’s shield to protect me,

God’s host to secure me:

against snares of demons,

against temptations of vices,

against inclinations of nature,

against everyone who shall wish me ill,

afar and anear, alone and in multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and these evils—

against every cruel and merciless power

that may oppose my body and my soul,

against incantations of false prophets,

against black laws of heathenry,

against false laws of heretics,

against craft of idolatry,

against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,

against every knowledge that endangers man’s body and soul.

Christ to protect me today

against poison, against burning,

against drowning, against wounding,

so that there may come abundance of reward.

Christ with me.

Christ before me, Christ behind me.

Christ in me.

Christ beneath me, Christ above me.

Christ on my right, Christ on my left.

Christ in breadth, Christ in length, Christ in height.

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me.

Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me.

Christ in every eye that sees me.

Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today through a mighty strength,

the invocation of the trinity,

through belief in the threeness,

through confession of the oneness

of the Creator of creation.

Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of Christ.

May your salvation, oh Lord, be ever with us.

Other translations swap “I bind unto myself” for “I arise today,” so maybe that’s the version you’ve heard before.

The earth’s salt.

Mark 9.43-50, Matthew 5.13, Luke 14.34-35.

If you’ve ever heard someone called “the salt of the earth,” usually they mean an ordinary but decent person. And no, that’s not what Jesus meant when he coined the phrase “salt of the earth”—or as I translated it, “the earth’s salt.” I’ve no idea how it evolved from a remarkable person to an unremarkable person. When Jesus uses it in his Sermon on the Mount, he means remarkable.

He means a flavor enhancer. Be the salt of the earth: Enhance it. Make it taste better.

Mark 9.49-50 KWL

49“Everything for the fire will be salted. Lv 2.13

50Salt is good—

when salt becomes saltless,

in what way will it season anything?

Have salt in yourselves:

Have peace with one another.”

Matthew 5.13 KWL

“You’re* the earth’s salt.

When salt is tasteless,

in what way will it salt things?

It’s good for nothing—

unless it’s thrown outside for people to walk on.”

Luke 14.34-35 KWL

34“So salt is good—

when salt is also tasteless,

in what way will it salt things?

35It’s useful for neither the ground nor the dungheap.

They throw it outside.

One who has an ear to hear: Hear me!”

Beatitudes: Both awesome and awful.

Matthew 5.3-12, Luke 6.20-26.

Many of Jesus’s teachings are bunched together as the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, and the Sermon on the Plain in Luke. They overlap a bunch, so I’m going through ’em together. Both of them begin with beatitudes.

Beatitude is an old-timey word for “blessing.” Most translations follow the KJV’s convention and begin each line with “Blessed are the…” as Jesus lists the sucky, not-so-great situation under which these folks are groaning. They’re poor. Mourning. Humble. Starving for justice. Merciful in a world without mercy. Pure-hearted in a dirty culture. Striving for peace where there’s nothing but rage and fear. Getting hunted down, mocked, slandered, driven out. These things sure don’t sound like blessings.

And let’s be blunt: They’re not blessings. Jesus is not blessing us with poverty, misery, injustice, no peace, and persecution. He’s telling us our Father intends to relieve the people suffering from these things. I’ll explain further, but first let’s get to the beatitudes in these two gospels.

Matthew 5.3-12 KWL

3“The spiritually poor: How awesome!

—the heavenly kingdom is theirs.

4Those mourning: How awesome!

they’ll be comforted.

5The gentle: How awesome!

—they’ll inherit the land.

6Those hungry and thirsty for justice: How awesome!

—they’ll be filled.

7The merciful: How awesome!—

they’ll be shown mercy.

8Those of clean mind: How awesome!—

they’ll see God.

9Those making peace: How awesome!—

they’ll be called God’s children.

10Those hunted down because of justice: How awesome!

—the heavenly kingdom is theirs.

11When people condemn you², hunt you² down,

say everything evil against you², lie,

all because of me: How awesome you² are!

12Rejoice and celebrate for your² great reward in heaven!

For they persecuted the prophets before you² this way.”

Luke 6.20-23 KWL

20Jesus, lifting his eyes to his students, says:

“The poor: How awesome!

—God’s kingdom is yours².

21Those hungry now: How awesome!

—you’ll² be filled.

Those crying now: How awesome!

—you’ll² laugh.

22When the people hate you², segregate you²,

condemn and throw out your² names as if evil,

all because of me: How awesome you² are!

23Rejoice on that day! Skip!

Look at your² great reward in heaven!

Their ancestors did likewise to the prophets.”

Yeah, you likely noticed I went with a much different translation of μακάριοι/makárihi than the traditional “blessed.”

Don’t break up with unbelievers!

1 Corinthians 7.10-17.

When I was growing up, both Mom and my pastors taught us kids we shouldn’t date non-Christians. Because, God forbid, you were gonna fall in love with them, marry them, and now you were gonna have perpetual disagreements with your pagan spouse about religion. Then we’d have kids, and she’d of course object to me wanting to raise ’em Christian. Then she’d let the Jehovah’s Witnesses talk to her some morning, join them, and now I’d have to deal with all the heretic garbage they taught her. Or pick some other worst-case scenario; just imagine your spouse turns into a massive jerk… and presume you somehow won’t turn into one too.

Done? Good. I myself didn’t need to imagine any worst-case scenarios, ’cause I grew up with a Christian mom and an atheist dad, so I knew exactly what that looked like. Dad didn’t forbid us kids from going to church with Mom and becoming Christians, but he certainly wasn’t thrilled about it. And he especially wasn’t thrilled whenever he did something immoral—usually theft—and his Christian kids would object, and spoil his evil fun.

In the Roman Empire, divorce was widespread, and people did it for any and every reason. So if a Roman’s spouse got mixed up in some new gnostic religion, and was suddenly spending all the family’s money on it, and our hypothetical Roman wanted nothing to do with it: Divorce! Easy-peasy. Property gets divided, and you go your way with your money. And your spouse goes to temple with all their money, and leaves temple with no money, but at least you still got all your money.

Some of this attitude leaked into Jesus’s culture, and as a result a number of Jews likewise divorced for any and every reason. And certain Pharisee rabbis let them. This, despite the LORD telling Malachi he hates divorce. Ml 2.16 NKJV The rabbis would simply find a convenient loophole which permitted divorce in this instance… and could always somehow find a way to permit divorce in every instance. Human depravity is clever like that.

When Jesus was questioned about the issue, he said nope, divorce was never God’s idea. Moses permitted it “because of your hard-heartedness,” Mt 19.8 KWL i.e. your closed-mindedness; people won’t accept any scenario where divorce isn’t an option. Indeed Jesus’s own students came to him afterwards and objected Mt 19.10 —and Jesus said yeah, not everyone’s gonna accept this teaching. Mt 19.11 People should go into marriage expecting it to be lifelong, but they just don’t. They want, “just in case,” loopholes. We all want loopholes.

So some of the first Christians figured religion oughta be one of those loopholes, right? If a Greco-Roman pagan became Christian, but her spouse was a massive Zeus worshiper and wanted to stick with Zeusery, what was she to do? Especially if he demanded she come to temple with him, and couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t worship Jesus and Zeus, just like she worshiped Athena and Zeus, or Demeter and Zeus, or Artemis and Hera and Hestia and Zeus. Why’s Jesus so exclusive? What, are you monotheist now?

So that’s the cultural background to today’s scripture—namely, how Paul and Sosthenes addressed the whole pagan-spouse problem.

The background of the Sermon on the Mount.

Matthew 5.1-2.

Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount begins in Matthew 5, where Jesus “went up into a mountain” Mt 5.1 KJV to teach his students (Greek μαθηταὶ/mathité, “pupil,” KJV “disciple”).

Matthew 5.1-2 KWL

1Seeing the crowds,

Jesus goes up, into the hill,

and as he is sitting down

his students come to him.

2Opening his mouth,

Jesus is teaching his students,

saying…

and he starts with the Beatitudes.

Y’notice my translation has “hill.” The original Greek text has ὄρος/óros, which can mean either “hill” or “mountain,” and the person (not necessarily St. Jerome) who originally translated Matthew for the Vulgate decided it meant montem, “mountain,” so that’s how Christians have historically interpreted it. That’s why it’s the Sermon on the Mount, not Hill.

Thing is, I’ve been to the Mount of Beatitudes in northern Israel, where Christian tradition says Jesus gave this sermon. It’s a hill.

A view of the Mount of Beatitudes from Capharnaum. See that domed building? That’s the octagonal Church of the Beatitudes, built by the Roman Catholics in 1938. Berthold Werner, Wikimedia

True, not everybody agrees what the difference is between a hill and a mountain. In English and American custom, a mountain is 1,000 feet above its surrounding geography. But of course if the locals are used to calling a nearby hill “the mountain,” state geographers might disagree, but it’s a mountain to the locals regardless. The same is true with the Mount of Beatitudes: Christians keep calling it a mountain, but it’s not. It’s only about 200m (about 650 feet) above Lake Tiberias (i.e. the Sea of Galilee). It’s actually 25m below sea level. Where I’m sitting in the Sacramento Valley, as I write this, I am at an elevation 31m above the Mount of Beatitudes. That’s how low of a “mountain” it is.

The 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴.

Most movements have slogans; they help promote the movement. The Protestant movement is no different. When it began in the 1500s, the Reformers came up with slogans. Back then the international language of Christendom was Latin, so of course the slogans are all in Latin.

The three I’m writing about today are called the solas—because they all start with the Latin word sola. You’re probably more familiar with the masculine form of it, solo, which is also an English word and means the very same thing: Alone, only, unaccompanied, done by one person without assistance. Anyway, the three slogans are:

Sola fide, “by faith alone.”

Sola gratia, “by grace alone.”

Sola scriptura, “by scripture alone.”

In the 20th century, various Christians created two more slogans which they claim are also part of the solas: Solus Christus, “Christ alone”; and soli Deo gratia, “glory to God alone.” I have no problem with people coming up with new slogans, but they aren’t part of the original solas, so I won’t talk about them as much.

So… why am I bringing up some five-century-old Latin slogans? Because sometimes you’re gonna hear Christians quote them, talk about them, use them… and use them wrong. The early Reformers had specific reasons for coining these slogans, and we gotta know what they meant by them before we just quote ’em haphazardly.

And even if people don’t use the Latin words—if they use the English translations “by faith alone,” “by grace alone,” and “by scripture alone,” or translate ’em into any other language and teach Christians about ’em—again, let’s know what the Reformers meant by them.

Do we perform sacraments or ordinances?

ORDINANCE 'ɔr.dɪ.nəns, 'ɔrd.nəns noun. Authoritative order or decree.

2. Religious ritual; particularly one ordained by Christ.

3. What Evangelical Christians call sacraments.

When I talk about certain Christian rituals, I call them sacraments. And you’re gonna find many Evangelicals really don’t like this word.

These folks think of “sacraments” as a Roman Catholic word… and some of them are a bit anti-Catholic… and some of ’em are extremely anti-Catholic. They still got a lot of hard feelings about the Catholics, dating all the way back to the original Protestant spats with Roman Catholicism. To them, “sacrament” has a lot of bothersome Catholic baggage attached… so they refuse to use it.

What do they call Christian rituals then? Well Evangelicals could just call ’em rituals, but for some reason we never really wanted to; it makes us think of dead rituals, or dead religion, which they’re not. Somehow the word “ordinances” caught on. Or “holy ordinances.” ’Cause Jesus ordained them.

The two ordinances which Evangelicals tend to single out, are holy communion 1Co 11.23-26 and baptism. Mt 28.19 Some of us also recognize Jesus also mandated foot-washing, Jn 13.14-15 but not every Evangelical lists it as an ordiance. Probably because they don’t wanna wash feet, which sorta merits its own article.

Anyway. Communion and baptism are definitely ordinances… and you’ll find Evangelicals tend to also practice all the other sacraments the Catholics do. They just won’t call them sacraments. Or ordinances, ’cause they figure Jesus didn’t ordain them. Although often the apostles did.

CATHOLIC SACRAMENT	EVANGELICAL EQUIVALENT	WHO ORDAINED IT
Baptism	Baptism	Jesus
Confirmation	Confession of faith at baptism	Peter
Eucharist	Holy communion	Jesus
Penance	Counseling, confession, and intercession	James
Anointing the sick	Anointing the sick	James
Holy orders	Laying hands on people for ministry	The LORD, to Moses
Matrimony	Wedding ceremonies	9th-century Christians

As you notice, Evangelicals still anoint and pray for the sick. Still lay hands on people they’re sending out to do ministry. Still perform wedding ceremonies, funerals, and baby dedications. Still counsel and intercede for people. It’s just they won’t call these other things “ordinances” because they’re not the three ordinances Jesus gave us… and they’ll still try to avoid the word “ritual,” even though it’s precisely what we’re doing.

It’s all about “not doing as Catholics do,” even though we’re totally doing as Catholics do.

Using your imagination to meditate.

When I was a kid there was a Japanese TV show called Aníme Óyako Gekíjo/“Anime Parent-Child Theater,” which Americans know better as Superbook. Christian TV stations used to air it every weekday. Your own kids are more likely to have seen the 2009 American remake.

In the 1981 original, two kids named Sho and Azusa discovered a magic bible which transported them, and their toy robot Zenmaijikake, back to Old Testament times. (Yeah, they all had different names in the English redub: Chris, Joy, and Gizmo.) The kids would interact with the bible folks, who somehow spoke Japanese instead of ancient Hebrew, and were surprisingly white for ancient middle easterners.

The kids, and their robot in the red galero, have a not-at-all-awkward conversation with a buck-naked pre-genitalia Adam and Eve. Aníme Óyako Gekíjo episode 1, “Adamu to Eba Monogatari”

Well in the first series they did. In the second series—also called Superbook in the States—Pasókon Toráberu Tántei-dan/“Computer Travel Detective Team,” the kids totally ignored the bible characters ’cause they were trying to rescue a missing dog. Which is best, I suppose: Less chance they’d accidentally change history, and whoops!—now we’re all worshiping Mammon, and Biff Tannen became president. (Well…)

Obviously we’ve not yet invented time travel, and it’s not possible to have any Superbook-style adventures. But a whole lot of us would love to check out the events of bible times, and maybe interact with it. It’s why there are bible-times theme parks in the Bible Belt, like The Ark Encounter or The Holy Land Experience, which Christians flock to. (Or, for about the same price, actual real-life Israel, which I far more recommend.)

But when time travel or pilgrimage are out of the question right now, it is possible to meditate on a story from the scriptures, by imagining ourselves there as it happened, imagining ourselves watching it as it took place.

Some Christians call this practice Ignatian meditation, after St. Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits. In his 1524 book Exercitia Spiritualia/“Spiritual Exercises,” Ignatius taught his followers to not just contemplate certain passages in the bible, like Jesus preaching in synagogue or temple, or teaching students, performing miracles, getting born, getting crucified, paradise, hell…. Instead, really mentally put themselves there. Imagine breathing the air. Feeling the weather. Hearing the sounds, smelling the smells. Being in these places.

The idea is to stop thinking of these events as just stories, but as real-life history. Stuff that truly happened. Stuff the prophets and apostles truly experienced. Stuff where God came near and interacted with humanity—same as he does now. Stop looking at them from the outside, and visualize yourself in the inside, in the bible, fully immersed in the story, just as you’re fully a part of God’s salvation history now.

Try this with the passages you’re reading now. Put yourself there, in your mind. See what new insights come out of it.