𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥-𝘧𝘰𝘳-𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘉𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘤: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘸.

When I was a kid our Sunday school classes had a take-home comic book called Bible-in-Life Pix. (Now it’s just called Pix.) As I recall it’d usually contain three stories each week:

• Something about some missionary or preacher or saint who did something of interest.
• “Tullus,” a fictional series about the adventures of an ancient Roman Christian who’d share Jesus with pagans. I found it so boring, so I’d skip it.
• Excerpts from The Picture Bible, which is the only part I really cared about—and collected. ’Cause it’s bible. But a comic book!

My only beef with The Picture Bible was it wasn’t the whole bible. Stories were abbreviated. Some stories were skipped altogether. Sometimes for very good reason; most of Judges really isn’t for children! But you know how literalist children can be: If you present ’em a comic-book bible, they want the whole bible. All of it. Genesis to maps.

My other beef with The Picture Bible came much later, once I majored in biblical history in school and found its pictures weren’t all that historically accurate. Yeah, some of this is my usual rant about White Jesus in a toga. To be fair, the illustrators were trying to create images which 20th century American Christians were already familiar with through western art, instead of startling them with reality. The unfortunate side effect is whenever the Holy Spirit himself tries to wake us up to reality, too many of us figure it can’t be the Spirit, suspect it’s some other spirit, and embrace our favorite fictions all the tighter. But that’s another rant.

The Word for Word Bible Comic: The Gospel of Matthew by Simon Amadeus Pillario. Word for Word Bible Comic.

Clearly English graphic designer Simon Amadeus Pillario had the same issues. So he did something about it! In 2014 he began a Kickstarter campaign to finance the first book of his Word for Word Bible Comic, in which he was gonna illustrate the full text of Judges. (Yeah, Judges, which I just said isn’t for children. Gotta get the rough stuff out of the way, I guess.) And he was aiming for historical accuracy: Ancient middle eastern Hebrews which look like ancient Hebrews instead of white Europeans; buildings and landscapes which are accurate to ancient Canaan instead of looking like 20th century Jesus movies; angels which don’t generically look like Anglos.

He completed Judges; then did Joshua, Ruth, Esther, and Mark, and this weekend he’s releasing Matthew—hence this article. He sent me an advance copy of Matthew to read. It’s good stuff. You might want it; along with the other books, all of which are on his website.

Witnesses and testimony. And us.

1 John 1.1-4 KJV

1 That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word of life; 2 (for the life was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear witness, and shew unto you that eternal life, which was with the Father, and was manifested unto us;) 3 that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. 4 And these things write we unto you, that your joy may be full.

John and the other apostles knew Jesus. Knew him personally; saw him with their eyes, touched him with their hands. He taught ’em bible. More importantly he taught ’em what he meant when he got the prophets to write it.

These experiences with Jesus became their testimony. And yeah, Christians tend to treat this word like it has a special religious Christianese meaning. No it doesn’t. It means the same thing as it does in a deposition or a courtroom: We saw stuff, or we know stuff—we really know stuff, and aren’t just repeating what was told us, ’cause that’s hearsay. We’re a witness to the things we know. And we’re sharing what we know.

Every Christian has a testimony, ’cause every Christian has interacted with God to a certain degree. Many of us have full-on God-experiences. Some of us have even seen Jesus, ’cause he still appears to people. Far more of us have heard God speak back to us in our prayers, had those prayers obviously answered, seen miracles… you know, other God-experiences which are a little more mundane than any special-effects light-show. We witnessed these things. We know what we saw. So that’s our testimony.

Those Christians who claim “witness” and “testimony” mean something different: It’s because they haven’t actually witnessed anything.

Usually because they’re mixed up in cessationist churches, or their favorite preachers likewise believe God stopped doing that sort of thing back in bible times. So even when they do see God actively working in the world, their churches and preachers tell them to ignore those things. Disregard ’em. Don’t share them. Because those other Christians don’t believe in those things, and insist they’re tricks of the devil—even when there’s no reason whatsoever for the devil to trick people into glorifying God.

So for cessationists, their only “testimony” is that once upon a time they said the sinner’s prayer. And ever since, their lives have been good; or at least they feel content about things. (Or they’ve learned to feel content, because they’re successfully suppressing all their angst.) Their “witness” is that story of how they said the sinner’s prayer, and their absolute certainty they’re now going to heaven.

Is that what the apostles meant when they used the word μαρτύριον/martýrion in the bible? Not even close. They saw stuff. And yeah, not everyone believed it, and mocked it, and thought they were nuts. Ac 26.24 So what? Plenty realized these guys were on the level, turned to Jesus… and eventually had their own testimonies of what the risen, living Lord had done in their own lives.

Well, you’re expected to be a witness of Christ Jesus too. You need some testimonies to share of what he’s done in your life. I expect you have some already. If not… start getting some!

Christian apologetics: Kicking ass for Jesus. (Don’t!)

APOLOGY e'pa.le.dzi noun. Justification for one’s behavior, theory, or religious belief; usually in form of a logical argument.

[Apologetic e.pa.le'dzet.ik adjective, apologist e'pa.le.dzist noun.]

 

APOLOGETICS e.pa.le'dzet.iks noun. The study and use of logical arguments to defend [usually religious] beliefs.

Years ago a pastor introduced me to a visitor to our church thisaway: “He knows a lot about apologetics.”

“Well, theology,” I corrected him.

’Cause at the time this pastor didn’t really recognize much of a difference between theology and apologetics. In fact a lot of Christians don’t. Theology is what we know about God. Apologetics tends to be based on those beliefs, and regularly argues in favor of them. But ’tain’t the same thing.

Yeah I actually do know a lot about Christian apologetics. Before I studied theology, it’s what my church taught me. Started in high school. My youth pastor (same as a lot of undereducated youth pastors whose job is to babysit the teens, not actually pastor us), wasn’t all that solid in theology anyway. But his youth pastor taught him Christian apologetics, and in college he got into apologetics-heavy ministries. So he taught what he knew. And it turns out lots of youth groups get taught apologetics instead of theology. ’Cause kids already wanna argue and debate… so why not lean into it?

So I learned all the standard arguments in favor of Christ and the bible. And now I can fight anybody!

Let me emphasize that word again: FIGHT.

If you’re a brawler, if you love to argue, apologetics gives you full permission to indulge. It’s why the practice is so very popular. Apologists even claim it’s a form of spiritual warfare: They’re battling false beliefs! They’re striking down lies and half-truths and misrepresentations and faulty logic! They’re contending for the kingdom!

True, they’re totally contending. With other people.

St. Paul explicitly said our fight isn’t with flesh and blood. Ep 6.12 We’re fighting spiritual forces and devilish ideas. But that passage about God’s armor is about fighting the forces which lead us to sin. Not fighting other people. Not fighting nontheists and antichrists who have no intention whatsoever of turning to Jesus. Jesus himself told his students to shake the dust off their feet at such people and move on. But Christian apologists don’t obey Jesus: They just keep fighting, and claim maybe some of this arguing is “planting seeds.”

Fighting, argumentativeness, making enemies, quarrels, and factions are works of the flesh. Ep 5.20 Christians should know this already, and back away from any form of Christian apologetics which descends into verbal brawls. But too many Christian apologists do no such thing. They figure the ends—y’might win someone for Christ!—justify their fruitless means.

Hence Christian apologetics is a field that’s full of abuse. Too many apologists can’t keep their emotions and temper in check. Too many of ’em love to belittle their opponents, mock their intelligence, tear ’em down, or call ’em evil and devilish instead of just mistaken or misguided. Too many of ’em love to win a debate—so much so, they’ll ditch the logic they claim to uphold if it’ll make ’em feel they’ve scored a point. Too many of ’em will even claim things that simply aren’t so, or use false testimonies, false information, and bear false witness, just to win.

There’s a lot of unchristlike behavior in Christian apologetics. It’s why I gotta warn you away from getting mixed up in it. It’s produced way too many Christian jerks. Don’t become another one!

We don’t get a free pass just because we’re “fighting for Jesus.” In fact engaging in such behavior alienates the people we fight. It makes enemies. Makes ’em more bitter and resentful, and drives them even further away from Jesus, repentance, and the kingdom. We’re unwittingly doing the work of the wrong side.

So no, I’m not into apologetics. I’m into theology. I stick to what the scriptures have to say about God, how our God-experiences and the scriptures confirm one another, and the importance of being fruity like Jesus wants. And then I take questions.

I don’t wanna create yet another Christian know-it-all who’s eager to go slap down some naysayers.

When our anger gets us into trouble.

Matthew 5.21-26, Luke 12.57-59.

In Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount, after explaining he’s not come to do away with the Law, he proceeded to give his commentary on the Law. These are the bits which follow the pattern of “You heard this said… and I tell you.”

Typically bibles translate Jesus’s followup as “But I tell you.” (KJV, NIV, ESV, NLT, etc.) It’s because the ancient Greek conjunction δέ/de, which generically connects sentences to one another, gets translated…

• “And” when the sentences connect similar ideas.
• “But” when the sentences contrast dissimilar ideas.
• “Or” when the sentences list options.
• “Then” when it’s part of a sequence of ideas.

De can be translated whatever way the interpreter thinks would make the clearest English. But really it’s got no more meaning than a semicolon. (I’d even translate it that way… if it didn’t wind up producing giant run-on sentences.)

Here’s the problem: Interpreter bias. When we correctly recognize Jesus isn’t throwing out Old Testament commands and replacing (or significantly updating) them with his; when we realize he’s explaining the LORD’s (i.e. his) original intent when he handed ’em down, we’re gonna translate de generically. Sometimes “and,” sometimes a semicolon, sometimes we’ll drop it ’cause it’s redundant.

But. When we incorrectly think Jesus is inaugurating a new dispensation—or we at least think Jesus is trying to add to the Law, despite Moses telling the Hebrews they don’t get to do this Dt 4.2 —we’re gonna think Jesus is contrasting ideas, and wind up with “but.” True, interpreters may only mean Jesus is just expounding on the idea—“You oversimplified it this way, but here’s what this really means.” Still, dispensationalists will claim the “but” backs their bad theology.

So I went with the simplest option, and dropped de as redundant. On to Jesus’s lesson.

In Matthew he begins his brief commentary on the spirit of the Law with the “Don’t murder” command from the Ten Commandments.

Matthew 5.21-24 KWL

21 “You heard this said to the ancients: ‘You shall not murder.’ Ex 20.13, Dt 5.17

Whoever murders will be subject to judgment.

22 And I tell you this: Everybody angry with their sibling will be subject to judgment.

Whoever tells their sibling, ‘You dumbass,’ will be subject to the senate.

Whoever says, ‘You moron,’ will be subject to a trash-heap of fire.

23 So when you bring your gift to God’s altar,

when you remember your sibling has anything against you,

24 leave your gift there, in front of God’s altar.

First go make up with your sibling. Then come back and bring your gift.

Popularly, this passage is interpreted all kinds of wrong. Namely it’s explained, “Hating your fellow Christian” (or hating anyone) “is just as bad as murder. Because you’ve spiritually killed them.”

Jesus’s most misinterpreted teaching.

Matthew 5.17-20, Luke 16.16-17.

Matthew 5.17-20 KWL

17 “Don’t assume I came to dissolve the Law or the Prophets.

I didn’t come to dissolve but complete:

18 Amen! I promise you, the heavens and earth may pass away,

but one yodh, one penstroke of the Law, will never pass away; not till everything’s done.

19 So whoever relaxes one of these commands—the smallest—and thus teaches people,

they’ll be called smallest in the heavenly kingdom.

Whoever does and teaches them,

they’ll be called great in the heavenly kingdom:

20 I tell you, unless morality abounds in you, more than in scribes and Pharisees,

you may never enter the heavenly kingdom.”

This connects to Jesus’s similar teaching in Luke.

Luke 16.16-17 KWL

16 “The Law, and the prophets up to John: From their time on,

God’s kingdom is proclaimed as good news, and all struggle to get into it.

17 It’s easier for heaven and earth to pass away

than for one penstroke of the Law to fall.”

Despite this very lesson, many Christians do in fact teach Jesus did come to dissolve “the Law and the Prophets”—the way people in his day referred to the bible, our Old Testament.

As in Luke 16.16-17, Jesus is not announcing the termination of the OT’s relevance and authority (else Luke 16.17 would be incomprehensible), but that “the period during which men were related to God under its terms ceased with John”; and the nature of its valid continuity is established only with reference to Jesus and the kingdom.

—D.A. Carson, Expositor’s Bible Commentary at Mt 5.17

It’s still relevant, still authoritative; it’s why Christian bibles still include it. But it’s no longer valid. It no longer counts. Fun to read, useful for historical context, and we can even pull a few End Times prophecies out of it. But follow it? Nah.

Exactly how is that not dissolving it? See, καταλῦσαι/katalýsë, which I translated “to dissolve,” refers to breaking stuff apart, like in water. Pour water on a sugar cube to dissolve it, and it’s no longer solid. Can’t construct any sugar-cube buildings, like the ones we made in grade school: It’s useless for any function which requires it to be solid. That’s precisely what Jesus said he didn’t do: He didn’t turn the Law and Prophets into crumbling, insubstantial mush. Yet that’s precisely what we claim he did: Rendered it moot. Invalid. Not binding. And therefore, really, not relevant and authoritative.

This idea exposes a huge, huge error in the way Christians think about God, his commands, the Law, and legalism. Worse, this false idea worms into the rest of Jesus’s teachings. Really, every instruction we find in the bible. As a result, Christians use grace as a loophole, an excuse to ignore Jesus’s teaching—or misunderstand it, misapply it, even violate it.

Gonna be a lot of “smallest” Christians in his heavenly kingdom.

Kamala Harris and religious affiliation.

Kamala Harris. Wikimedia

Kamala Harris is one of my state’s senators, and recently she’s become presidential nominee Joe Biden’s choice for his vice-president. No, this isn’t an endorsement. (Though I confess I’m totally voting for Biden, ’cause Donald Trump is awful.) Instead I’m gonna talk about how the press talks about her religion.

Harris is a regular at Third Baptist Church in San Francisco. She considers herself Baptist. Now, her mother’s from Chennai (formerly Madras), Tamil Madru, India. Her mom was born into the upper-class Brahmin caste, and Harris has been to India many times to visit the family, and go to temple with them. Various news articles claim she was raised Hindu and Christian.

Hence I’ve heard a number of people claim this means she’s both. I’ve heard it from people in both parties: From Democrats who think having multiple religions makes her broad-minded… and from Republicans who think it makes her pagan.

The way certain articles report it, she sounds both Christian and Hindu. But you gotta remember a lot of reporters, including religion reporters, aren’t religious. So they don’t know squat about religion… and presume you’re born into your religion. Just as they themselves were born into the religions they no longer practice.

So if Harris’s mom is Hindu and her dad is Christian, that makes her both. Right?

Following that logic, I should be both Christian and atheist. Except I’m totally not atheist. I picked a side. People can do that, y’know. Harris did.

What religion is Jesus?

Most of the time we Christians simply take it for granted Christ Jesus is the same religion we are. After all he founded the religion. He taught us who the Father is, taught us his interpretation—the proper interpretation—of the Law of Moses, voluntarily died for our sins so we can have new life, and he’s the king of God’s kingdom. He’s vital and central to Christianity.

But whenever somebody says out loud, “Jesus is a Christian”… well it just sounds weird.

’Cause Christian (which literally means “a little Christ”) means a Christ-follower. And Christ doesn’t follow himself. He does his thing, and expects us disciples to follow him. So technically no, Jesus is not a Christian: He’s Christ.

Where people start to go screwy is when they say, “Well… I guess no, he’s not a Christian. What religion does that make him? Um… well… I guess that’d be Judaism.”

Incorrect. The religion Jesus practices is the one he preached: Christianity.

The “Judaism” people assume Jesus interacted with and was involved in, is not at all the Judaism of today. Largely it was Pharisaism, which over the centuries, with heavy influence from the second-century Mishna and the medieval Talmud, evolved into what we nowadays call “Judaism.” It’s not the same “Judaism” Jesus encountered in synagogue and temple.

Sorta like today’s churches don’t look a lot like the first apostles’ churches. The cultural Evangelical Christianity I grew up in, looks way different than first-century Jewish in-home gatherings. Sunday morning worship services, one-year bibles, Christian radio, crosses and fish as decorations, preachers with big hair and suits and ties, bible quotes from Paul and John posted on Facebook. Yeah, doesn’t much sound like the Didache.

Well, describing Pharisaism as “Judaism” is like describing the early Christians’ activities as “Fundamentalist.” Wrong culture. Wrong era. Doesn’t fit.

Though Jesus clearly interacted with Pharisees most, and taught Pharisee children in Pharisee synagogues, he’s his own thing. “You heard it said,” he preached, quoting the Pharisee elders at first… and then he’d set aside their ideas and proclaim, “And now I tell you.” Which astounded Pharisees: He wasn’t teaching what their scribes did. He had his own religion.

Many people get this wrong. They insist Jesus was so a Jew. And when they mean Jesus is an ethnic Jew—a descendant of Abraham, Jacob, and Judah—they’re entirely right. Though sometimes they wrongly assume Jesus was white, kinda like white Jews in the United States, and imagine all sorts of white culture in his experience which wasn’t there. Jesus is brown. It’s the Europeans—the Romans and Greeks who once occupied his homeland—who were white.

Likewise when people mean Jesus is a cultural Jew—that he stuck to the Law instead of adopting Greco-Roman culture and traditions—they’re also right. But when they mean Jesus followed the Jewish religion, they’re imagining today’s Judaism, and that’s quite wrong. Jesus didn’t do Judaism. Not just because it hadn’t been invented yet; really Jesus really didn’t do Pharisaism either.

Kings.

So I wrote about how human government in the bible started with patriarchy. So where’d kings come from? Simple: One powerful patriarch got all the other families in the area to acknowledge his rule and his family’s rule. Maybe by bullying and conquering them. Maybe by doing them massive favors, like rescuing them from raiders, helping them survive famine, Ge 47.13-26 building a walled city and letting ’em live in it, being the priest of the local god; stuff like that. Hence we see kings all over the bible.

Properly defined, a king is simply a hereditary ruler. Nothing more. ’Cause every so often I hear some preacher claim the Hebrew word מֶ֑לֶךְ/melékh, “king,” means something more different or profound than Eurasian or African or Pacific kings. Sometimes ’cause they notice it’s a similar word to מַלְאָךְ/malákh, “angel,” and think there’s a connection there. There’s not. There is no deeper meaning to melékh; it means “king” whether it’s describing Israeli kings, Canaanite city-state kings, Moabite and Edomite client kings or puppet kings, Egyptian pharaohs, Babylonian empire-builders, or even the LORD himself. It’s a hereditary ruler. The only differences between one king or another are any constitutions which limit their power, the size of their kingdoms, and their own character and attitude about governance.

Other than the first king in the family, kings didn’t earn their position, didn’t merit it… or, bluntly, steal it through conquest or coups. They inherited it, ’cause their dads were the previous kings, designated them as successor, and the kingdom became their birthright. They could be utterly unfit to govern others… as is usually true throughout human history. Designated successors (or as we nowadays call them, crown princes) had the awful habit of not thinking of the kingdom and its people as their duty, and their leadership as service, but as possessions and slaves. It’s 180 degrees different from God’s attitude in his kingdom.

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 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.

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 a decent person—but kinda ordinary. 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.

But when Jesus uses it, 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 50 Salt is good.

When salt becomes saltless, in what way will it season things?

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 of no use—well, unless it’s thrown outside, to be walked upon by people.”

 

Luke 14.34-35 KWL

34 “So salt is good.

When salt is also tasteless, in what way will it salt things?

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

They throw it outside. Hear me, you who have ears to hear.”

The spin Mark took on it is a little bit different than the ideas we find in Matthew. I’ll get to it momentarily. First the Sermon on the Mount idea.

Awesome and awful.

Matthew 5.3-12, Luke 6.20-26.

A lot 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. And both of them begin with beatitudes.

Beatitude is an old-timey word for “blessing.” Most translations follow the King James Version’s lead and begins each line with “Blessed are the…” as Jesus lists the sucky, not-so-great situation which these folks are groaning under. 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.

Let’s be blunt: They’re not. We’re not blessed with poverty, misery, no justice, no peace, and persecution.

I’ll explain. 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.

4 Those mourning: How awesome!—they’ll be comforted.

5 The gentle: How awesome!—they’ll inherit the land.

6 Those hungry and thirsty for justice: How awesome!—they’ll be filled.

7 The merciful: How awesome!—they’ll be shown mercy.

8 Those of clean mind: How awesome!—they’ll see God.

9 Those making peace: How awesome!—they’ll be called God’s children.

10 Those hunted down because of justice: How awesome!—the heavenly kingdom is theirs.

11 When people condemn you, hunt you down, say everything evil against you, lie,

all because of me: How awesome you are!

12 Rejoice and celebrate for your great reward in heaven!

For they persecuted the prophets before you this way.”

 

Luke 6.20-23 KWL

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

“The poor: How awesome!—God’s kingdom is yours.

21 Those hungry now: How awesome!—you’ll be filled.

Those crying now: How awesome!—you’ll laugh.

22 When the people hate you, segregate you, condemn and throw out your names as if evil,

because of me: How awesome you are!

23 Rejoice on that day! Skip! Look at your 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.”