Jesus Wants to Save Christians - Chapter Three

After years in exile, a significant number of Israelites eventually do come home to Israel. They return to Jerusalem, rebuild its walls, and construct another temple. But when those who had seen Solomon’s temple see the new one, they’re heartbroken, because it’s nothing like its former glory. Things just aren’t what they were.

They’re not in Babylon anymore. They’re now home, but it isn’t what it used to be. The Roman Empire, the superpower of their day, conquers Israel and begins a long, oppressive occupation of their nation. Instead of being hauled away to a foreign land by a conquering army like before, this time a foreign army has come to them. Roman soldiers march through their villages, ordering people to carry their packs while taxes are collected so the Romans can build an even bigger army to conquer more nations.

Imagine going to Jerusalem for the festivals and gathering with thousands of other Jews and singing together the great songs of David about the days when things were better. Songs about victory, songs about the power of God, songs about all of the nations bowing down to your God. Imagine growing up with that history, that heritage, that story, and then trying to explain to your children just what these Roman soldiers, who don’t even believe in your God, are doing in the streets of your village.

This is Israel at the beginning of the first century. Occupation, oppression, shame, and humiliation. A nation of people wondering where their God is, asking, Why is this happening to us again? Home, and yet still in a sort of exile. Clinging to the suspended promises of the prophets, looking forward to the day, the day of hope, the day when another son of David would come and lead then in a new exodus.

430 of slavery in Egypt – 430 years in exile – 430 back in Jerusalem, but still in some form of exile – and then Jesus is born.

Here is the new son of David, one who can hear the cry of the oppressed, and he’s inaugurating a new marriage covenant as he leads them in a new exodus. At one point Jesus even says, “I am the way”, which is a new exodus term.

Jesus keeps insisting that a new kind of kingdom is “coming” and he’s forever explaining to his hearers what this kingdom is “like,” that it is “upon you”, and that it is “near”. Power is flowing through Jesus to the broken, blind, and lame – those who need it the most, who have no power. Jesus is a servant who uses his power in the service of compassion and love – that’s what a servant does.

Isaiah (42) had said this would happen. A son of Davis, who uses power purely, leading a new exodus, showing the way to a new city and a new temple, displaying a new humanity.

Jesus insists that his work will lead to a renewal of all things. Anticipation grows as Jesus travels from town to town, village to village, teaching and healing and comforting and explaining and announcing that God is doing something new, something big, and that God is doing it through him. Massive crowds listen to him, people give up everything to follow him, children line the streets and sing about him as the new son of David.

And then it’s over. Jesus is arrested – and tried like a criminal – and then killed.

Luke tells the story of two of his disciples heading home after his death. (Luke 24:13-35) They’re walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, the village they left to follow him. How embarrassing. Can you imagine returning to your hometown after having made an error in judgment this large? Dropping everything to follow a man because you thought he was something that apparently he wasn’t?

For these disciples, Jesus’ death is the end of hope. For their fellow traveler, Jesus’ death isn’t the end of hope; it’s actually the beginning of hope. It’s as if Jesus says, “If I do it like everybody has done it since the beginning of time, how would that change anything?” If evil always takes some form of violence, then more violence isn’t going to solve anything.

The only way to break that cycle is for someone to absorb it. A true leader of a new exodus would have to resist ever using power in the form of violence against another human being. Isaiah called the one to come a suffering servant. (Isaiah 52:13-15) Someone would have to have the courage to put away the sword, forever, regardless of the consequences for his own security. No matter how tempting it is to pick it up and start swinging, someone would have to say, “Forgive them, Father, because they just don’t’ get it.”

So all of creation is in sort of exile, east of Eden, estranged from its maker, far from home, what’s the penalty for that? What would be the payment to end that exile?

The prophets had declared that someone would come who would be willing to pay that price, the price for all of creation breaking covenant with God. And if that price was paid, that would change everything. Everything and everybody could then come home.

In a couple of hours, using nothing but the Hebrew Scriptures, this man converted all of their despair to hope and a vision of a new future.

In Jesus’ day, people could read, study, and discuss the Scriptures their entire lives and still miss its central message. In Jesus’ day, people could follow him, learn from him, drop everything to be his disciples, and yet find themselves returning home, thinking Jesus had failed.

Which is a bit like walking with someone for hours, only to discover that you had missed who they really are the whole time. Because the stranger is, of course, Jesus.