Showing posts with label Hierarchy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hierarchy. Show all posts

Friday, February 05, 2016

Matthew 18—Power and status (vv. 1-5)

Matthew 18:1-5 begins with a phrase translated as “At that time…” and continues “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” A footnote on this verse in the New International Commentary New Testament: Matthew suggests that this question implies “So who is the greatest…?”

The particle ἄρα normally indicates some inference from a previous statement (as in 17:26, “Well then;” cf. 7:20; 12:28; 19:25, 27).

Taken together this unit is connected to the question of paying temple tax immediately preceding in 17:24-27. Jesus has just expalined to his disciples that even though they were not recognized as such by the priesty and religious establishment, they are familial members of God’s royal household and not required to pay the temple tax. Jesus’ reasoning on this was based on the the familiar privilege extended to earthly royalty and their families.

It is in this context of family that the disciples ask Jesus about hierarchy, status, and power within the family. After all, in earthly royal families the king or emperor stood at the head, his eldest son typically held the next position of power, others sons with increasingly diminishing status, daughters with even less, and so on down the line. But as a family they held power and privilege over all who weren’t family. The disciples assumed the same kind of arrangement in God’s family and kingdom. (Note also that within this context, God’s kingdom is not a location or reward, but a set of relationships in the present.)

Usage so far in this gospel indicates that “the kingdom of heaven” here refers to the new values which Jesus is inculcating, and the communal life of those who embrace them, so that in effect the question means “Who is the top disciple?” (NICNT: Matthew)

Jesus’ response to this question and with everything else that follows in chapter 18 is that in God’s family, God is head but beyond that there is no hierarchy and no power or status differentials. No member of God’s family has the benefit of more privilege or power over another member.

As an illustration and parable, Jesus calls a child (an actual child) to him. He tells his disciples that they must “turn around and become” like this child, and is quite emphatic that if they do not, they “will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

The phrase “turn around” (Gk. στρέφω) is sometimes translated “converted” (e.g., KJV). I think “turn around” better captures the intent: the disciples are to figuratively and literally “turn around” their hierarchical assumptions! The harmony of relationships in the kingdom of heaven depends on this. And I think that it can be extended to say that without this harmony, there can be no kingdom of heaven, and what I hear Jesus saying when he says “will never enter the kingdom of heaven” is that heaven can’t exist if there is ongoing strife and contending for power.

To abandon human thoughts of personal status and to accept or even seek a place at the bottom of the pecking order implies as radical a change of orientation as our term “conversion” involves. (NICNT: Matthew)

Sometimes verse 3 has been taken sort of by itself and its admonition “become like little children” has been taken (out of context) to mean that Christians should strive toward childlike innocece, dependence, etc – about adopting and growing childlike qualities and attributes. That is not what Jesus meant when we understand that the context is about power and status.

Jesus goes on to say that his disciples must “humble [themselves] like this child” and if they do so, they will be “the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” We begin to see what Jesus wants to communicate about status-seeking: that there is no place for it in God’s family.

The instruction to “become like children” is thus not about adopting some supposed ethical characteristic of children in general (innocence, humility, receptiveness, trustfulness or the like) but about accepting for oneself a position in the social scale which is like that of children, that is as the lowest in the hierarchy of authority and decision-making, those subject to and dependent on adults…

Its meaning [“humble themselves”] is thus closer to “humiliate”, so that to “make oneself tapeinos like this child” (the literal translation of the expression here) does not mean to attempt to gain the mental virtue of humility which is supposed (by whom?—not by most parents or teachers!) to be characteristic of children, but rather to accept the low social status which is symbolized by the child, who in an adult world has no self-determination and must submit to the will of adults who “know best.”
(NICNT: Matthew)

The irony and paradox presented is that those who make themselves lowest and most dependent, are in fact, the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. What does it really mean then, to be “the greatest in the kingdom of heaven”?

Verse 5 begins a transition in the discussion. The discussion remains on status and power, but moves from what we should seek for ourselves to how we view those who have no apparent status or power; those who are marginalized and powerless according to earthly, human standards. This gets to the heart of the remainder of Matthew 18: power, status, and relationships within God’s family, aka Church.

Perhaps the most important point to note in verse 5 is that Jesus identifies himself with the child. To welcome (not just tolerate, but to fully accept and include) those that the world casts out, that tradition and culture (both secular and religious) considers “outside”, is to welcome Jesus himself.

Friday, August 02, 2013

Another Look at the Upper Room—Part 3—Washing Feet

In Part 2 we examined the Lucan parable of the serving master. We identified some of the parallels it has with the story of the Upper Room found in John 13. As we return to the Upper Room I think it is important to keep in mind the unprecedented nature of Jesus' actions. In the modern society, as much as there are divisions of wealth, privilege and status, it is not altogether astonishing when we hear of people high in human-based hierarchies to serve those lower in rank; we expect a type of human equality at some level. Not so in the time and place where Jesus walked. Kenneth Bailey writes, "I know of no incident in contemporary life or in story out of the past in the Middle East where such an incredible reversal of status appears." (Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes, 373) Where appearances counted for everything in order to maintain status and honor, Jesus' actions could be interpreted to bring shame not only to himself but also to his disciples - his community - whom he served.

 

John 13 begins:

 

13:1 Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. (ESV)

 

In John the phrase "to depart out of this world" includes Jesus' passion, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension. In other words I see this verse as setting the theme for the rest of this gospel account. And what is the theme? It is the second half, "Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end." The stories, the prayers, the instructions - all can be seen as different ways in which Jesus "loved them to the end." The washing of feet and breaking of bread are merely two of the examples of Jesus' love.

 

I also want to pause to examine the word translated as "to the end." This comes from telos which has the connotations of fulfillment and completion. What John is telling his readers is not only that Jesus loved his disciples to the end of his time here on earth, but he fulfilled all that love means and completed the demonstration of love.

 

In present day use, love often has much to do with feelings: romantic, filial, brotherly/sisterly, kindness. Even when the term is expanded beyond feelings, it often stops at "being nice to one another." The examples that Jesus gives, as John describes them in chapter 13ff is much more than just being nice, even to one's enemies. I can "be nice" to people I don't like because it's what I'm supposed to do and in the hopes that they will eventually go away and leave me alone. But that isn't love. Love is genuine concern for the well-being of others, even for people who I don't like and who might turn around and betray me and stab me in the back. And not just concern, but actions that genuinely improve the lot of the other.

 

I read the next four verses as a summary of the Upper Room story:

 

13:2 During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him, 3 Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, 4 rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. 5 Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

 

Verse 2 reveals a critical piece of information for the readers. Jesus already knows who will betray him (c.f., verse 11). Why Judas betrays Jesus is not made clear, but given the cultural norms of honor and shame, I concur with other scholars who conclude that Judas became disillusioned with Jesus because he refused to act the expected part of the Messiah. What would transpire in the next few minutes would cement his betrayal. But that knowledge does not change Jesus' actions. His kingdom is not based on position and power, but on love and service, even if that means one of his own will betray him.

 

Verse 3 gives the readers reasons why Jesus could ignore status, honor, and shame originating from men. Jesus knew the hearts of men but he also knew something far greater - his belonging to God and all belonging to him. A single betrayal would not break the community and fellowship he has with his Father and with "his own."

 

Jesus is setting up a different kind of community - not one based on status or honor, but on love and service. So Jesus rises from his place, sets aside his cumbersome outer garments, girds his loose-fitting undergarment with a towel around his waist and gets ready to go to work. He fills a basin and goes to the first disciple and begins washing his feet.

 

As noted earlier, an act like this is unprecedented. There is nothing like it in the disciples' memory. Perhaps later, with clearer thought, they will be reminded of the Lucan parable. Their first thought is astonishment which quickly gives way to horror. More than one probably is trying to figure a way to stop Jesus. He is the master so he, theoretically, is allowed to do anything to them. But this? They could protest, but that would shame Jesus, even more than he is doing to himself. So they keep silent.

 

Until Jesus gets to Peter. Quite likely to be about midway around the table.

 

Jesus must be stopped. Peter indirectly protests by asking Jesus a question, "Lord, do you wash my feet?" (v6) Maybe Jesus will take the hint and at least pass him by and stop this whole business. Both can still save face.

 

But Jesus will not be deterred. Jesus tries to allow Peter the choice to continue with the washing. "What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand." (v7)

 

Peter think Jesus didn't get the hint. He must resort to open and direct protest. "You shall never wash my feet!" (v8) There, what needs to be said has been said. There is no ambiguity; no question. His position is firm. The Greek is even more emphatic: "You will never wash my feet forever."

 

Jesus' reply to Peter is just as emphatic. "If I do not wash you, you have no share with me." (v8)

 

Peter doesn't understand what is happening, but there is one thing he cannot fathom: to be separated from Jesus when his kingdom is inaugurated. That's what he hears Jesus saying. Peter becomes emphatic in the exact opposite position now. "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" (v9)

 

13:10 Jesus said to him, “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean, but not every one of you.” 11 For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

 

At this point we can begin to discover the significance and meaning of the washing of feet. Some opinions see the washing of feet as a disgusting act that requires abject humility. In this line of thought the streets of Jerusalem were filthy with dirt, mud, and animal droppings. To wash feet was a physically disgusting task; therefore, only slaves at the lowest rung of the social ladder would perform it. For Jesus to do that was to do a truly disgusting task and likewise his disciples ought to be willing to do the most menial and disgusting tasks. It's a line of thought that seems to make sense and is quite pious.

 

Except that it isn't entirely accurate. Many excellent commentaries today make it a point to note that the streets of Jerusalem weren't filthy and disgusting in the matter described above. Especially for Passover, the high Sabbath of the Jewish year. Sure, feet would get dusty, but truly dirty in a disgusting way? No.

 

In fact the Greek text of verse 10 does not contain the phrase, "does not need to wash, except for his feet." In other words, the significance of Jesus washing the feet is not about washing the feet. The service is not in how disgusting or menial the task is. Many commentaries note that the disciples would have come to the Upper Room only after properly bathing to cleanse themselves to be ritually purified to celebrate Passover. There was no essential need for the disciples' feet to be washed. It was, however, an expected gesture of hospitality (c.f., Luke 7:44). And all except Judas were already spiritually clean, whether or not their feet were washed (particularly if Peter was seated about halfway around the table, half the disciples' feet wouldn't be washed). The washing isn't representative of some type of cleansing of sins after initial conversion. (Don't laugh or roll your eyes. In my childhood, I recall being taught that the ritual of washing feet was a kind of "mini-baptism" whereby sins committed after baptism and after the last feet washing would be washed away with this most recent washing. So to skip the ritual--very, very bad and dangerous for one's eternity.)

 

It isn't the washing that is significant, but what this act means. The act isn't a mere act of humility or service, though we shouldn't dismiss those application. I see something much more revolutionary and one that Christians and our churches need reminding. Jesus explains his actions over the course of the next verses.

 

After washing Peter's feet, Jesus continues with the rest of the disciples. With the washing complete, Jesus removes the towel girding his undergarment, places his outer garment back on himself, and returns to his place at the table.

 

13:12b … he said to them, "Do you understand what I have done to you? 13 You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. 14 If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another 's feet. 15 For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. 16 Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17 If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them. 18 I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But the Scripture will be fulfilled, 'He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me. ' 19 I am telling you this now, before it takes place, that when it does take place you may believe that I am he. 20 Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever receives the one I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me."

 

And some of us get hung up on verses 13-14, reading them as a command to literally wash one another's feet.

 

Surrounding this command is teachings, not specifically about humility or service, or of sin and salvation, but of hierarchy, positions, and responsibilities. In the middle of all this is another reminder of Judas and his problem.

 

The crux of the mystery of meaning of the washing of feet is around Judas and Peter. The entire social fabric of the time was built around hierarchies of privilege, power, roles, wealth, and position. Permeating the hierarchies was the concept of honor and shame. Appearances mattered. A lot. More than a lot.

 

As I wrote toward the beginning, Jesus' actions in the Upper Room destroyed all of that. Jesus was telling his disciples that hierarchies and the game of shame and honor meant nothing in his kingdom. In Jesus' kingdom all will belong to God and God will belong to all. No one will have "more of God" and God will not favor one person over another. Appearances don't matter. Position, wealth, birthright… all of that goes away.

 

Peter may not have understood it at this time, but his heart and mind was malleable to begin learning the lesson. So Jesus could declare Peter clean.

 

Judas, unfortunately, was hardened in his tradition. Judas was not clean and could not be cleansed, because he would not let go of the cultural and religious traditions that taught something different about God than what Jesus was demonstrating.

 

All the disciples wanted a God who would come in power to change the world by force. Peter represents the eleven who were open to at least contemplating a God who failed to meet that expectation. Judas could not even imagine a God who would not force his ways, however righteous, onto people.

 

We become like the God we picture an think about. If our image of God is one who employs power to subdue and control, we will feel justified in forcing our ways on others. If instead our image is of one who would allow himself to be betrayed, reviled, despised, tortured, and killed, we will never collaborate with the powers of manipulation and coercion; the end will never justify wrong means.

 

Jesus' command is not to literally wash one another's feet, but for his people to continue the work he started of destroying hierarchies and systems that keep people enslaved to one another--both the controllers and those who would submit for promises of power and status; or submitting through appeals to tradition, propriety, shame, and guilt.

 

To wash one another's feet means the destruction of systems of oppression that prevent people from becoming the human beings that God has made each of us to be.