Can Christian Indebtedness to Judaism be Repaid?
Click to Download Audio MP3 File.
My lecture title, which was intended to be provocative, deliberately plays on two senses of indebtedness: “Can Christian Indebtedness to Judaism Be Repaid?” Christianity is obviously indebted to Judaism because both sister religions are rooted in ancient Israel. Historians place the emergence of Christianity as a distinctive community anywhere from the 2nd to the 4th century of the Common Era. So we can talk about historical indebtedness. The other sense of indebtedness is a financial obligation requiring repayment. We usually don’t think of historical indebtedness as a debt which can be repaid. But in this particular case, the indebtedness is so enormous and the relationship has heretofore been so lopsided, I believe we’re justified in talking about repayment. Let’s first just list what Christians owe Israel.
Prior to Christianity, Israel was the only people on the planet who exclusively worshipped one God. This God could not be represented by artistic endeavors. This God was not subject to magic, to natural forces, to outside influence, or to any form of manipulation. His mastery of creation was absolute. Christians are entirely indebted to Israel for this unique God.
According to Israel’s faith a series of individuals and groups have experienced this God. The God of Israel has revealed himself in human events. Reciting and celebrating these events is definitive for Israel’s self-understanding. Christians have borrowed the defining stories of these events wholesale. Borrowing on this scale is unprecedented. Islam also borrowed many of the same stories, but Islam had the common sense to borrow them selectively, to modify them for its own purposes, and to retell them in its own language. Christianity is probably the only instance where a religion has borrowed its sacred scripture lock, stock, and barrel from somebody else.
Christianity is indebted to Israel for its basic pattern of worship. During the Babylonian exile Israel developed a form of worship unique in the ancient world. It was totally separate from Israel’s earlier worship where priests officiated in the temple and sacrificed animals. Israel’s earlier worship had much in common with that of other ancient cultures. But synagogue worship was truly innovative. Synagogue worship was a communal gathering for the purpose of study and prayer. Synagogues were self-governing, de-centralized, and operated without heirarchy or clergy. The whole idea of doing church is something Christians borrowed from the synagogue.
Christianity is indebted to Israel for the hope of God's kingdom. During the exile, when Israel lacked national self-determination, aspirations for the restoration of the monarchy shifted to a grander prophetic vision. The hope grew that the restoration of Jewish sovereignty would be cosmic in scope. Rather than the king merely being God's agent, as the royal ideologies of all Israel's neighbors claimed at the time, Israel's hope was that God himself would intervene and become the world's true king. Israel's hope was that all the earth would benefit by the restoration of David's throne and that all the earth would be renewed. Without Israel's hope, Jesus's words and actions are incoherant. Jesus proclaimed the imminent realization of God's kingdom. We Christians continue to hope that the restoration of David's throne will be God's ultimate answer to violence, injustice, exploitation, selfishness, and sickness. We've inherited Israel's hopes and aspirations.
Christianity is indebted to Israel for Jesus. Jesus wasn’t Christian. Jesus lived as an observant Jew. He worshiped in synagogue. Jesus’ didactic method, where disciples learn a master’s way of devotion by personal example, is Jewish. Jesus tells parables about a kingdom and a king, which is a favorite form of rabbinic teaching. His teachings have striking parallels with rabbinic literature, recorded somewhat later. Christians must confess: only Israel could have produced Jesus and only Israel could have made sense of him.
Christianity is indebted to Israel for the apostles. Not only were the twelve apostles all Jewish, the whole idea of apostleship is Jewish. Here the difference in language may obscure the relationship. An apostle in Greek is a shaliach in Hebrew. A shalich is a Jewish communal emissary. To this day, in synagogue worship, a designed shalich represents the community before God, and leads public prayer. In antiquity, the far-flung Jewish community was connected by a network of shlichim. They brought fresh teaching to outlying areas in the name of their respective masters. shlichim were entrusted with transfering communal funds. shlichim had power of attorney. We’re indebted to Israel for Jesus’ emissaries, the twelve apostles.
Christianity is indebted to Israel for the gospel. Let me hasten to add, I don’t mean gospel in the sense often used today. In common parlence gospel is the formula by which individuals can attain the afterlife by becoming true Christians. I doubt any Jew would wish to take credit for that formula! What I mean here by the gospel is Jesus’ message within its historical setting. Jesus’ gospel proclaimed the inauguration of God’s kingdom, that God was back on the throne of Israel, that the world-to-come was dawning, and that some of its benefits were already available to those turning to God in repentance. Jesus’ gospel is a product of 1st century Jewish aspirations. Although Jews believe Jesus was wrong about the timing of God’s kingdom, and that Jesus isn’t the agent who brings it about, the gospel Jesus proclaimed is nevertheless a very Jewish message. We Christians are indebted to Israel for it.
Our debt is incalcuable. And how have Christians repaid Israel? What have Christians given in return? Jesus taught us to repay good for evil. Yet historically, Christians have done the opposite: we have repaid evil for good. Christians have repaid their debt to Israel with defamation, with forced conversions, and martyrdom. Christians have failed to repay Israel in kind.
Now I’m not advocating the lachrymose version of Jewish history. There’s more to Jewish history than the vale of tears. Although Jewish/Christian relationships have been unequal, the traffic has never been one-way. The barrier between Jews and Christians may often have been high, but it’s always been porous.
I’d like to present an example of Jewish response to Christianity. The haggada of pesach, the familiar script for telling the story of Israel’s redemption from Egypt around the family circle, engages in continuous polemic with the Christian story of redemption. The polemic is covert, but unmistakable.
The haggada opens with the words, “This is the bread of affliction which our fathers ate in the Land of Egypt” coupled with the ritual lifting up of the matza for the participants to see. This counters the wording of the Christian ritual of the Last Supper, “This is my body which is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me” [1Corinthians 11:24]. The haggada continues, “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” This counters Matthew’s version of the Last Supper, “Take! Eat! This is my body.”
Scholars have toyed with the opposite possibility; that perhaps the haggada of pesach is earlier and that the Christian Last Supper borrows from it. But this is highly unlikely. While the temple still stood Jews didn’t recite the story of the exodus from Egypt around the table on Passover eve. They ate lambs which were sacrificed in the temple. Telling the story was an innovation from after the destruction of the temple when sacrificial lambs were no longer available. Our earliest discussions of the regulations for Passover, the Mishna and the Tosefta, don’t mention the words “This is the bread of affliction which our fathers ate in the Land of Egypt.” Furthermore, it’s unlikely an introduction to a ritual would be in circulation before there was a fixed text for it. It’s simply much more likely that the introduction to the haggada is bouncing off the Last Supper.
Another response to Christianity in the haggada of pesach. In the late 2nd Century Melito, bishop of Sardis, writes a homily on the Passover in which he chides Israel.
“Ungrateful Israel, how much did you value the ten plagues? How much did you value the nightly pillar and the daily cloud and the crossing of the Red Sea? How much did you value the giving of the manna from heaven, and the supply of water from the rock, and the giving of the Torah at Chorev, and the inheritance of the land?” [peri pascha 84-85]
Without mentioning Melito of Sardis by name, the haggada of pesach contains a point-by-point rebuttal. This is the song daiyenu.
“Had he only brought us out from Egypt, and not executed judgements on them, it would have been enough for us! Had he only torn the sea for us, and not passed us through the middle of it, it would have been enough for us! Had he only drowned our adversaries in the middle of it, and not provided our needs forty years, it would have been enough for us! Had he only provided our needs forty years, and not fed us the manna, it would have been enough for us! Had he only given us the Torah, and not entered us into the land of Israel, it would have been enough for us! Had he only entered us into the land of Isreal, and not built us the chosen house, it would have been enough for us!”
The Jewish liturgical text is countering the Christian accusation that Israel is ungrateful for the miracles.
Another Jewish response to Christianity in the haggada. In his homily on the Passover Melito of Sardis inteprets the sacrificial lamb, the matza, and the bitter herbs in Christian terms. He then describes Jesus’ incarnation, “He who coming afikomenos from heaven to earth” [peri pascha 66].
Now the haggada quotes the Mishna [m Pesachim 10.5] where Rabban Gamliel teaches the meaning of the sacrificial lamb, the matza, and the bitter herbs. The haggada further quotes the same passage where the Mishna [m Peshachim 10.8] teaches “we don’t conclude with desert after the sacrificial lamb.” The word for “desert” is Greek epikomen “what comes after.” But epikomen puns with afikomenos “he who coming.” The haggada is sparing with Melito of Sardis. The haggada is saying that in the Jewish version of this ritual, after the explaination of the sacrificial lamb, the matza and the bitter herbs,” we don’t conclude with “He who coming from heaven to earth.” In the Jewish version we don’t launch into the praise of Jesus’ incarnation after we talk about the sacrificial lamb!
Another example of Jewish reaction to Christianity in the haggada.
“And saw our mistreatment” [Deuteronomy 26:7]. This would refer to abstinence from marital relations. As it is written, [Exodus 2:25] “And God saw the children of Israel and God knew.”
The haggada interprets the verb “to know” in the sense of sexual intimacy, as in “Adam knew his wife and she conceived.” The haggada here claims that during the time Jewish husbands and wives were forcibly separated in Egypt, the Jewish wives miraculously conceived by God himself. In other words, the haggada is deflating the Christian claim that Jesus is special. The haggada is saying, “So what, lots of Jews were the product of a miraculous conception. Jesus is in good company, but the virgin birth doesn’t make him special.”
The backbone of the haggada is a detailed phrase-by-phrase midrash on Deuteronomy chapter 26. The odd thing is that Deuteromony 26 isn’t about Passover. Deuteronomy 26 is about presentation of firstfruits. If you want to tell the Passover story from the Bible, why not pick a passage from the Book of Exodus? Why does the haggada avoid the obvious? The answer seems to be that the haggada wants a version of the story that avoids Moshe. As is well known, the haggada of pesach manages to tell the entire Passover story without ever once mentioning Moshe’s name. This answer is reinforced by the haggada’s treatment of Deuteronomy 26:8.
“And HaShem brought us out of Egypt.” [Deuteronomy 26:8] Not by an angel. Not by a sereph. Not by a messenger, but the Holy One, blessed be He, himself in person.”
Saadya Gaon’s version here adds, “Not by a Word.” Christians claimed redemption requires a mediator. Christians claimed that Moshe is the mediator of the redemption from Egypt and that Jesus is the mediator of the greater redemption from sin and death. The haggada counters that Israel’s redemption is totally unmediated. God this time worked directly without any angels, assistants, or agents. God himself redeemed Israel in person. No Moshe and no Jesus were necessary. Again, the haggada is going head-to-toe with Christianity.
Another example of Jewish sparing with Christianity in the haggada. The midrash embedded in the haggada concludes with Deuteronomy 26:8,
“And HaShem brought us out from Egypt with a mighty hand and with an outstretched arm, and with great awe, and with signs and wonders.” “With great awe” [Deuteromony 26:8]. – This would refer to the revelation of the Divine Presence. As it is written [Deuteronomy 4:34], “Or has any god attempted to come and claim for himself a gentile from among a gentile with trials, with signs, with wonders, with war, with a strong hand, with an outstretched arm, and with great awe, according to all that HaShem your God has done for you in Egypt in your eyes?” “And with wonders” [Deut 26:8]. – This would refer to the blood. As it is written [Joel 3:3], “And I shall give wonders in the heavens and on earth, blood, fire, and columns of smoke.”
The midrash uses Deuteronomy 26 as a springboard to jump to a favorite Christian prooftext. According to the Christian Acts of the Apostles, the Apostle Peter announces that the prophecy in Joel 3:3 has been fulfilled in the reception of God’s Spirit among the Gentiles on the day of Pentacost.
The midrash attempts to pull out the rug from under Christian claims of a fulfilled Joel 3:3. According to the midrash the “wonders” in Joel 3:3 don’t refer to the messianic deeds of Jesus and his apostles, but rather to God’s unique self-disclosure when he delivered the children of Israel from Egypt and bloodied their oppressors. The midrash says the “wonders” refer to blood. According to the midrash the “great awe” in Deuteronomy 26 and in Deuteronomy 4 is not a matter of Gentile redemption, but of Israel’s redemption from among the Gentiles.
“Has any god attempted to come and claim for himself a gentile from among a gentile?”
In reaction to Christianity’s attempt to build a “second story” of double meaning over the biblical foundation, the haggada insists that the redemption is already present within the first story as it stands, and that no “second story” is required or desired. The haggada is attempting to kick out the props from under Christianity’s layer of added meaning. The haggada deftly circumvents the obstacles presented by Christian interpretation. Without explicitely acknowledging the rival religion, the haggada denies the validity of Christian interpretation. This is covert dialogue.
We may well ask, “How did Jews in antiquity have such intimate knowledge of their Christian neighbors? How did Jews know how Christians preached and prayed and the meaning of their rituals? The answer is that in antiquity, and also later on in Europe during the Middle Ages, Jews and Christians lived crowded together in cities. They lived stacked on top of one another. There was no privacy in the ancient world. People overheard what their neighbors downstairs or across the street were saying. Every word. There was no background noise from traffic. In the modern world we have the possibility of squestering ourselves in ghettos or in private villas, American style. Jews and Christians can live their own lives and act as though the other doesn’t exist. In antiquity there was no such opportunity for ignoring each another.
The Church and Israel may have turned their backs on one another long ago in order to go our own separate ways, but it seems we’re sortta tied back-to-back! Whenever one of us moves, the other has to maneuver too. We’re locked in this odd dance, but we’re not looking each other in the eye. It’s an awkward situation.
Despite what isolationists on both sides claim, we actually do have quite a bit in common. People with nothing in common don’t have the luxury of disagreements. They merely have misunderstandings and antagonisms. The fact Jews and Christians can actually disagree is based on our common culture. The question is, “Will our shared values serve only to drive competition, or will our shared values also enable us to unselfishly share ourselves?" Both our traditions, after all, teach the greatness of unselfish sharing.
Christianity and Judaism are like sisters who get into each other’s stuff. We’ve raided each other’s wardrobes. But we don’t ask before we borrow, and we get possessive with stuff that’s not ours in the first place.
Christian indebtedness to Judaism is incalculable. Judaism, in turn, is also indebted to Christianity, but in less obvious ways. Even something as Jewish as the haggada of pesach turns out to have been shaped by competition with Christianity! To a great extent, we’ve defined ourselves in terms of mutual opposition: non-Christians shall be the Jews and non-Jews shall be the Christians. We’ve defined ourselves by who we’re not. Jews worship the God of Israel without obeying Jesus; and Christians worship the God of Israel without obeying the Torah.
During the remainder of our time this evening, I’d like us to consider whether our indebtedness can be leveraged into a relationship. Rather than a borrower/lender relationship or a thief/victim relationship, can our relationship be more positive? What might Christians repay as an appropriate first installment on our debt to Judaism?
Some Jews have suggested that in view of our track record, Christians can best repay their indebtedness by leaving the Jewish community strictly alone. While this suggestion is morally justified, the concern is misplaced. The Jewish community is diminishing, not because Jews are converting to Christianity, but because Israel, like the Church, is being subjected to the forces of secularism and the breakdown of community. Participation in historic communities is in steep decline. Both Israel and the church are in freefall. Our mutual woes can’t all be blamed on the missionaries. During the 19th century it may have been true that Israel was numerically weakened and Christianity numerically strengthed by conversions, but this is certainly no longer the case. Today neither of us is gaining from the other’s loss.
Furthermore, the suggestion that Christians can best repay their indebtedness by leaving the Jewish community alone is historically naïve. We’ve never been hermetically sealed communities. We’ve always interacted, even if frequently on an unequal basis. Originally we emerged in competition with each other and we’ve developed in competition with each other. Like some married couples we haven’t gotten along too well, but neither can we get along without each other.
Christians need Jews for their own theological purposes. Christians cannot be Christians without Jews. The Hebrew Bible is fulfilled not only by the life of Jesus, not only by the ongoing life of his body the church, but also by the ongoing life of Israel. The remnant of God’s faithful people continues not only in the church, but in the synagogue. Christians are not spiritually independent of Israel, any more than Christians are historically independent of Israel.
Jews likewise need Christians, albeit not to the same extent as Christians need Jews. Jews don’t need Christians for legitimation. Since Christianity has usually conceded the point, Judaism has been able to claim direct continuity with ancient Israel. So Judaism enjoys canonical legitimation.
But since we share the God of Israel, when Christian behavior defames him, Jews are injured along with their God and his Christians. We’re in this together. It’s actually in Israel’s interest that Christians should comport themselves well and uphold God’s reputation in the world.
Historically, Christians have spread Israel’s love for God around the globe. If the islands of sea have heard of Israel’s redemption and identify with Israel’s story, it’s mainly due to the spread of Christianity. If millions of God’s children adore him and lift up his praise in hundreds of languages, it’s thanks to Christianity. Admittedly, Israel would not have converted idol-worshipers exactly the way as Christianity did. But even when we’ve worked at cross-purposes, Jews and Christians have been allies in God’s masterplan. Jewish teachers have long recognized this. Jews are indebted to Christianity.
I wish to suggest three installments Christians can pay toward their indebtedness to Judaism.
The first is for Christians to ensure that our future interactions are as equals. Since Christians are in the majority and historically have been the bully, this is a Christian responsibility. Equality would take the sting out of our disagreements. Our exchanges need not be offensive or defensive. There will no longer be a perceived need for covert dialogue. No more jabs at Jesus under the seder table. If we treat one another as equals before God, our disagreements can become teachable moments.
Since we are different, we are going to have disagreements. Disagreements are inevitable. But Christians are filled with the Spirit of Jesus, which is the Spirit of gentleness. Jews have eternal life planted among them, the Torah, all of whose paths are peace. We both have valuable lessons to teach and to learn. If we recognize who God has made us to be, our differences can be constructive.
The second installment I’m suggesting is repentence. Christians should repent not only of libel and violence against Jews, but of the whole ugly exercise of defining ourselves by ostracizing and delegitamizing our brothers and sisters. Now it’s true we’re talking about a historical process, a process that started long ago, long before any of us here in this room were born. But Jesus taught us that a tree can be evaluated by its fruit. We have every right to pay attention to consequences. When Christian behavior hurts other people, we have a moral obligation to examine the theory that produced the practice. Repentance means that our cherished ideas, even our faith commitments, are subject to reevaluation. We cannot abandon our past, because our past is us, but repentence means we may come to understand our past differently. Repentance means we’re willing to accept God’s love, even though we discover he didn’t love us for quite the reasons we once thought. Repentance means we may have to be special in God’s sight for some other reason.
The third installment on Christian indebtedness to Judaism I’d like to suggest is mutual accountability. By mutally accountibility I don’t mean we ought to be meddling in each other’s internal affairs. We’ve already had enough of that! By mutual accountability I mean allowing the aggreived party to help us through the process of repentance. Paradoxically, we need our Jewish brothers’ and sisters’ assistance in order to repay our indebtedness to them. By mutual accountability I mean holding one another to higher standards of truthfulness. Mutual accountability recognizes that Jews have a legitimate interest in the spiritual health of the church and that Christians are genuinely concerned for Israel’s welfare. We pray for each other and we seek the very best for each other. Despite what our past deeds and doctrines say, the last thing we’d really want today would be for the Jewish community to be damaged or diminished.
The quality of interaction we’ve witnessed in the academic community between Jewish scholars and Christian scholars in recent decades is an inspiration in this regard. Because Jewish and Christian scholars are listening to one another as never before, new discoveries are coming to light. Jewish history and Christian history are both being rewritten. New chapters in God’s story are being written. That sort of cooperation and collaboration would be an enormous blessing to the church and to the synagogue. We would be the envy of the world! Our God would get more glory than he’s gotten in a long time.
Should Christian attempts to repay our indebtedness meet with success, we’ll end up being more indebted to Judaism than ever. Of course, you can never actually pay off a debt of gratitude, any more than you can repay your father’s sweat or your mother’s grey hairs. But if we paid a few installments, we’d feel better about our sister and she’d feel better about us. I, for one, think the Church and Israel are both worth the effort.
