Lectionary Commentaries for October 20, 2024
Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost

from WorkingPreacher.org


Gospel

Commentary on Mark 10:35-45

Sarah Hinlicky Wilson

Following hot on the heels of the rich young man who goes away grieving, this week we have another famous story.1

Oh, James and John, you foolish boys. Of course, following Jesus doesn’t mean being powerful like the rulers of the Gentiles. Of course, it’s all about servant leadership. Jesus is so deep, and you’re so shallow. Then we good Christians scout out clever ways to “serve” in self-aggrandizing fashion, as immortalized in the words of Weird Al’s “Amish Paradise”: “You know I’m a million times as humble as thou art.”

And that’s to say nothing of the famous one-off term “ransom” that launched a thousand atonement theories.

Other commentators have already handled these themes with great aplomb on this site, so I’ll turn my attention instead to the peculiar eruption in the text of the word “baptism.”

To this point in Mark’s story, you have far more reason to associate baptism with John than with Jesus. In fact, so far as anyone knows, John was the first to baptize other people. Jewish tradition is full of ablutions, but they are all performed on oneself (let us call that “autobaptism”). John was the one who got the idea to perform ablutions on others—or, better, to invite people to submit themselves to a rite of purification performed upon them by another (this we can call “heterobaptism”).

So, John turns up at the Jordan “baptizing in the wilderness” and “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Mark 1:4). In response, “all the country … were being baptized by him” (1:5). Then, having just barely established the new precedent of “heterobaptism” in water (“hydroheterobaptism,” anyone?), John ups the ante considerably with the announcement that someone else is coming to baptize them with the Holy Spirit (1:8, which would give us “pneumatoheterobaptism”).

By the way, preachers, take note: Luke/Matthew/Q add on the bit about fire (“pyropneumatoheterobaptism”), but it’s not in Mark. Sure enough, Jesus comes along to get baptized (1:9) and in the process gets doused with the Holy Spirit too (1:10).

Still, baptism seems to stick to John like a locust to a stalk of wheat. In Mark 6, the unsavory business at the Herodian household, John is three times called “the Baptist,” as he is again in Mark 8 by the disciples when Jesus teases a confession out of their halting lips. Jesus, too, speaks of “the baptism of John” in Mark 11:30, asking whether it is heavenly or human—though when the chief priests and scribes and elders decline to give an answer, he does too, leaving us still in the dark.

Jesus never earns the appellation “Baptist” for himself and makes no allusion to Christian baptism, which is perhaps why the longer and probably later ending of Mark feels the need to draw the connection (16:16).

The point is: Jesus’ use of baptism imagery in the confrontation with James and John is unexpected, indeed startling. By way of synoptic contrast, Matthew blames the boys’ mom for asking the glory question in the first place and retains Jesus’ words about a “cup” he must drink but not about a baptism he must undergo; Luke drops the episode altogether, though in another context he places a similar thought on Jesus’ lips: “I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!” (Luke 12:50).

Even if, say, Mark bumped into Paul en route to Rome and peered over his epistle-writing shoulder ’round about Romans 6, the expected result would be to tie baptism to Jesus’ burial rather than to his passion as a whole, as the Markan text seems to suggest.

All told, this baptism business is not the biggest nor the most important interpretive move regarding the cross in the New Testament. But the allusion to baptism is nevertheless an evocative one, and in some ways more promising than the elusive “ransom.”

But what does it mean? Restricting ourselves only to the Markan clues, we can glean a few ideas.

First, the cross is “heterobaptism”—it is a passion that one must undergo, not an action that one chooses to undertake. The distinguishing feature of baptism in Mark (and in Christianity) is precisely that it is not performed upon oneself, although one may approach it willingly, as Jesus does.

James and John misunderstand the glory they are pursuing actively, for Jesus’ “baptism” is not a matter of action but of passion. Their boastful assurance “We are able!” earns a response from Jesus whose irony can only be grasped by those who read to the end of the story: you bet you’re going to undergo this baptism, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.

This passion, this cross, this “heterobaptism” then sheds light on what it means to be a leader who serves not by lording but by submitting. It even illuminates, to a degree, what it is to be a “ransom”—there is a marked element of helplessness in being the trading token or sacrificial lamb.

All this would seem to be a commendation of pure passivity, and perhaps in activistic, boosteristic, optimistic American culture there is something to be said for confronting our folks with the passivity of the passion now and then—were it not for an allusion way back in Mark 1: the gift of the Spirit.

John’s baptism is only “hydroheterobaptism,” but Jesus’ baptism—which every early hearer of Mark had probably undergone and/or seen done, even if the Gospel didn’t have much to say about it—adds on the pneumato element. Not that this is an altogether comfortable thing. In Mark, the main jobs of the Spirit are to drive into the wilderness, proffer words in the moment of persecution, and get fatally sinned against. Being possessed of the Spirit is also a passion.

Really, James and John had no idea what they were getting themselves into.


Notes

  1. Commentary previously published on this site October 21, 2018.

First Reading

Commentary on Isaiah 53:4-12

Beth L. Tanner

Today’s reading, Isaiah 53:4–12, moves from humiliation to celebration. It ends the fourth of the so-called servant songs (42:1–4; 49:1–6; 50:4–9; 52:12–53:12). As this text is read, the congregation will probably conclude that the subject is Jesus. With that interpretive act, they are making the same connection the writers of Matthew, Luke, and John did in telling the story of Jesus.1 However, these texts were written in a different context.

These texts were written to two groups: the exiles in Babylon and the residents of a conquered and destroyed Judah. Each community had suffered loss, affliction, and humiliation at the hands of successive empires. In this case, the servant is the true servant, or servants, who remained faithful to their God despite the destruction of their Temple and their way of life. The servant is the remnant, both singularly and collectively. It is the prophet and the people.

One clear theme of this passage is that the humiliated will be elevated and vindicated. Dennis Olson notes that this theme of weakness to greatness is more than a theme of this text.2 It is a recurring theme in the Scriptures, from Abram and Sarai in Genesis to Moses and the Hebrews in Exodus to the prophets over the will of the people. God has shown Godself to favor the struggling ones over the ruler, the enslaved over Pharaoh, and proclaimers of God’s justice over the powerful. The lesson of the Bible is God’s care of the poor, the weak, and the disenfranchised.

God is the God of Israel and Judah’s kings, but the human king of God’s people is to rule not as a show of power over, but as one who “delivers the needy when they call, the poor and those who have no helper. He has pity on the weak and the needy and saves the life of the needy. From oppression and violence, he redeems their life, and precious is their blood in his sight (Psalm 72:12–14). This preference sets this Lord God apart from the other gods of the known world. This, as they say, will preach.

Another theme is the difficult assertion that God causes the servant to suffer for all. The message is evident in the Isaiah text. Verse 6 states, “… and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all,” and verse 10 notes, “Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him with affliction”; finally, verse 11: “He, my servant, shall make many righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities.” God is love, but here it appears God is punishing the innocent for the sins of others.

Is it God’s will that innocent people suffer? The answer is far from simple. The ancients believed that the gods had a hand in everything and were often directing human events. So, the exile was interpreted as God’s punishment of the Israelites for their actions. It is a hard lesson to hear.

Today, we see the innocent suffer at the hands of others. Mass shootings, war, bullying, the fentanyl crisis—all these acts and many others impact and hurt the innocent. Just as the exile was caused by human greed, today’s innocents suffer the consequences of our actions or inactions. Or does the blame sit squarely with us? We know God was and is on the side of the poor and the disenfranchised. Are the ancient prophets seeing God’s hand in everything, including their suffering?

Other texts will contradict this belief and offer a protest of this understanding, such as the lament psalms, the book of Job, and even Jesus himself (Luke 13:1–5). This may be too much for a Sunday morning in October, but it is a classic and challenging question at the heart of our faith. The answers are not simple, and they lock God and humans into an internal struggle. It is not the easiest of questions, but it is one the text sets before us.

Another way to incorporate the text is as an addition to the Mark text. It further exemplifies the contrast between the disciples and Jesus or, in a larger context, between God and humans. God willingly suffers to be in relationship with imperfect humans. We chase the wrong things—money, position, power. God’s heart breaks at the destruction we wield at one another. Like James and John, we want it all without the cost. And also, just like us, this desire for easy power divides Jesus’ followers. Did the other disciples get angry with the two because of James and John’s inconsiderate actions, or were they angry because they did not think of asking first? We are left to wonder.

As Jesus utters that the last shall be first, we remember the servant from the Isaiah text, which serves as a case in point. The humility of the servant is the opposite of the foolish request of the disciples.

Power and privilege are at the heart of our brokenness. It caused the exile and sent countless people into events where they lost their homes, their cities, their children, and their lives. The armies of Babylon did not distinguish between fighters and innocents. War never does. We cannot preach the vindication in this text and not spend as much time on the suffering that comes from our greed and violence. We are left declaring good news out of and amid our suffering and violence. It is as it always was. Thankfully, so is God.


Notes

  1. To name just a few of the references: Matthew 8:17 quotes Isaiah 53:4. Luke 22:37 quotes Isaiah 53:12. John 12:38 quotes Isaiah 53:1.
  2. Dennis Olson, “Commentary on Isaiah 53:4–12,” Working Preacher, October 18, 2009, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-29-2/commentary-on-isaiah-534-12-2.

Alternate First Reading

Commentary on Job 38:1-7 [34-41]

Esther J. Hamori

This is the third of four lections from Job, and should be understood in relation to the first two. These remarks on Job 38 build on my comments on the particular theological challenges we encountered in Job 1–2 and Job 23.

Job 38 in context

Job 38 is the first time God interacts with Job—but God has acted upon him before. In my comments on Job 1–2, I discussed the role of the satan in the heavenly court, and how God prompted the satan to do terrible things to Job. Job is then grief-stricken throughout the book, and repeatedly bewails the silence of God (for example, “I cry to you, and you do not answer me,” 30:20).1 We saw within the previous lection that Job wishes God would speak to him, and that he is devastated by God’s absence—but not because he’s so sure God’s presence would be a good thing.

The interrogation

God finally speaks. The poet introduces this with the verb “answer” (using a form of the common ‘anah): “Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind” (38:1). But God’s “answer” is, instead, an interrogation: “I will question you,” God says, “and you will inform me” (38:3, my translation). Some Bibles translate that as “you will answer me,” but it’s a different verb than in 38:1 (a form of hodi‘a, the hiphil of yada‘) and means “inform.” It’s strong wording: I’m asking the questions here! I’ll ask, and you will inform me! Job has been pleading for an answer, but when God finally speaks, he pointedly doesn’t answer and instead turns the tables on Job.

Worse: it’s an interrogation in which God knows that Job doesn’t have any intel. God begins with a rhetorical question, asking who it is using these “words without knowledge” (38:2). He then tells Job to brace himself for what’s coming: “Gird up your loins like a man” (38:3). God is explicit that this is not supposed to be pleasant for Job. In the Hebrew Bible, a man “girds” for battle. God’s warnings to people to gird themselves include, “Gird yourselves and be dismayed” (Isaiah 8:9), because God is sending the Assyrians to conquer Judah; and among God’s first words to Jeremiah, “But you, gird up your loins. Stand up and tell them everything that I command you. Do not break down before them, or I will break you before them” (Jeremiah 1:17). God tells Job to gird up for what God is unleashing.

The emphasis on Job’s lack of knowledge continues as God begins to question him. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding!” (38:4). It’s not idiomatic in English, but in Hebrew there’s yet another “know” in there: Tell me, if you know understanding! The emphasis is inescapable. God even throws in a caustic “Surely you know!” (38:5). And soon after, “Do tell, if you know all this!” (38:18, my translation) and “Surely you know, for you were born then, and the number of your days is great!” (38:21).

The wonder of creation and the paradox of Job

God’s speech (Job 38–41, with one brief break) presents something more complex than just this wildly disconcerting start. Part of what makes the book of Job as a whole so profound is how it gives voice to such difficult questions about divine justice and such clear conviction that God is the God of all things. God’s speech encompasses all of this. First, the alarming side:

God’s opening question, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” establishes the theme and tone for the rest of a lengthy speech. While the subject matter of creation and the created world may leave us in awe, God’s purpose isn’t to inspire but to put Job in his place. Verses 4–7 begin God’s monologue—all framed in terms of Job’s lack of knowledge and power. Where were you when …? Do you know this? Have you done that? Can you do this? The same tone is maintained for much of God’s monologue. Much later in this chapters-long interrogation, God even repeats his line, “I will question you, and you will inform me” (Job 40:7).

Within the first few verses of God’s speech, one reference is disturbing. As God questions Job about who was responsible for creation (“Who determined its measurements?” 38:5) and about details of the architecture of the earth (“On what were its bases sunk?” 38:6), he situates these events as taking place “when the morning stars sang together, and all the divine beings shouted for joy” (38:7).2 This sounds lovely … until we recall that this is not the first appearance of the “divine beings” in Job.

The Hebrew phrase, benei elohim, is the same one used twice in Job 1–2 (see my comments on that lection for October 6, 2024). The phrase is very uncommon—these three uses in Job outnumber its uses elsewhere in the Bible. The three should certainly be understood together. Job 38:7 evokes the memory of the divine beings in 1:6 and 2:1, and the entire point in those references to the divine beings is that the satan is among them, and God prods him to turn his attention to Job. God’s reference to the divine beings at the beginning of his response to Job is a callback to where all of Job’s suffering began.

Because the impact of the book of Job involves its raw protest and its refusal to look away from the unsettling side of God, I will include one more entry in the “alarming” column. God’s speech traces all of creation: the foundation of the earth, the sea, the light, the animals. No people, though. This survey of creation—glorious, if caustic—spares no room for the wonder of humankind. After building through the rest of creation, it culminates, instead, with Leviathan. More than a third of God’s speech is devoted to the sea monster.

What’s more, this part of the monologue takes a different poetic form. God’s praise of Leviathan is in the form of a specific kind of descriptive poem (called a wasf) that was often employed to express love. The only other biblical examples are in the Song of Songs. God’s speech in Job, which begins with this lection introducing a litany of barbed questions, ends with a love poem about Leviathan. This was not what Job was hoping for when he begged God to answer him.3

And yet—and yet! Even through the discomfort of acknowledging God’s acerbic non-response to Job, we can see the uplifting side of the speech: the wonder of creation! The decentering of the human experience leaves us with much to contemplate as well.

This wonder doesn’t cancel out the disturbing elements of God’s speech (or of the book overall), but that’s what makes the book of Job so powerful and compelling. The writer does not shy away from portraying God in disturbing ways—in God’s speech, as in God’s actions at the beginning and end of the book—even while contemplating the wonder of creation. The book holds in tension the greatest wonders and the most troubling questions, never tying it up with a neat little bow to be more palatable to the likes of us.


Notes

  1. All biblical translations are from the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition unless otherwise indicated.
  2. I use “divine beings” here rather than the NRSVue’s “heavenly beings.” For the same Hebrew phrase in Job 1:6 and 2:1, the NRSVue uses “divine beings,” and the use of the identical terminology here should be clear.
  3. This is based on my longer treatment of the story in Esther J. Hamori, God’s Monsters: Vengeful Spirits, Deadly Angels, Hybrid Creatures, and Divine Hitmen of the Bible (Minneapolis: Broadleaf Books, 2023).

Psalm

Commentary on Psalm 91:9-16

Matthew Stith

It is not surprising that Psalm 91 is often read, frequently set to music, and much-loved.1 It offers the reader a straightforward and thorough expression of trust in the providence and protection of God, even and especially under trying or dangerous conditions, and does so using as rich and powerful a set of images as are found anywhere in the Bible.

Most readers will have little difficulty apprehending and appreciating the gist of the text. Accordingly, the task of the interpreter of this psalm is not so much one of explanation as it is one of appreciation and application. Exposition should seek to lead the congregation to a deeper understanding of the evident good news offered in the text, and to help them steer clear of pitfalls that may, ironically, trap the reader even as the text celebrates the Lord’s protection against such snares.

In aid of the first part of the task, the interpreter might note the following:

  • The reading as set forth in the Revised Common Lectionary includes the essential thrust of the opening movement of the psalm, with verses 9–10 serving as something of a summary of verses 1–8: Those who take refuge in the Lord are protected from evil.

However, the omission of these opening verses robs the reader and the preacher of a wealth of imagery that far better illustrates the breadth, power, and, above all, the tenderness of this protective care. For example, the image of the faithful sheltered under God’s wings (verse 4) displays the warm, parental side of God’s defense of the people, and also offers a wide range of connections to other texts, including Ruth 2:12; Psalm 57:1; and Matthew 23:37/Luke 13:34, that employ the same image.

  • Verses 14–16 move beyond the psalmist’s description of God’s care and report God’s own words, which validate the psalmist’s claims. It may be worthwhile to emphasize here that God promises deliverance, protection, answering, presence, honor, and salvation without any mention of prerequisites or merit, only specifying that those who know, love, and call upon God will receive these blessings.

The second part of the interpreter’s task, that of application, may, in the case of this psalm, partake more of warning against misapprehension than anything else. To wit:

  • The psalm’s buoyant celebration of God’s protection certainly intends to instill confidence in the hearers. However, it is crucial that this confidence not be misplaced. As illustrated by the use of verses 11 and 12 by Satan in the story of Jesus’ temptation (Matthew 4:5–7; Luke 4:10–11), it is a very small step from confidence that God’s protection is extended under all conditions to confidence that God’s protection can be forced to operate at our beck and call.

Jesus’ response in the Gospels offers a sound principle for drawing the line: trust in God is not a license to test God. Put another way, our confidence in God’s protection does not give us license to assume God’s endorsement and support of our willfulness or reckless behavior.

  • Related to this misplaced confidence, and perhaps even more dangerous in the long run, is a reading of the psalm that concludes that God’s protection will prevent any and all discomfort or misfortune from affecting God’s own, and that therefore the experience of misery and trouble in life must indicate that the sufferer is not, in fact, among God’s people.

Against such misunderstanding the interpreter might note the overwhelming testimony of the Psalter as a whole, in which God’s people over and over again call out to God while suffering, and also might note that God’s validating speech in verses 14–16 specifically describes God’s actions for his people when they are calling out “in trouble” and in need of rescue. Such would hardly be the case if God’s people were never to be in those situations! The promise of the psalm is not that we will never suffer, but that trouble and trial will not conquer and will not make an end of us.

  • Less pernicious, but still to be guarded against, is possible overemphasis on the angels mentioned in verse 11. This passage, among others, has sometimes been cited in the development of elaborate hypothetical systems whereby individual angels are assigned guardianship of individual believers. In the current text, there is simply no such implication to be drawn.

The angels mentioned here (always in the plural) are simply the heavenly host, the unseen agents of God’s power, through whom the text envisions God exercising the defense of God’s people. The chief value of the image is to demonstrate that however numerous the threats and challenges around us might be, our protection is not outnumbered or overmatched.

  • Finally, the promise of verse 16, “With long life I will satisfy them,” must be handled carefully. We know all too well that God’s people do not always enjoy a long life as we reckon such things. In particular, those who are bereaved, and especially those who have seen a loved one die young, may find this claim difficult to credit.

The interpreter should emphasize the parallel promise to “show them my salvation,” and remind the congregation that for God’s people, the span of days spent on earth is only a sliver of the life that is guaranteed by God’s saving providence.


Notes

  1. Commentary previously published on this website October 18, 2015.

Second Reading

Commentary on Hebrews 5:1-10

Israel Kamudzandu

Affluence, social status, academic degrees of all sorts, summa cum laude honors, and worldly wisdom are useful, and people should dream of all these things. However, Hebrews warns us that these earthly achievements will not be of service in building the kingdom of God. Neither do they bring revival and growth to the church of Jesus Christ. What makes one become an instrument of God is, first and foremost, being called by God, being born again, and being filled by the Holy Spirit, willing to surrender to God’s will, and then and only then does God appoint people in his vineyard. 

Indeed, those who aspire to work for God must, first and foremost, be called by God, intentionally put in charge of godly affairs, and must become the embodiment of God’s kingdom. Yes, it takes only God to fill hearts with his power, and then the spiritual renewal of a lost church will be born again. That is the gospel message of Hebrews 5:1–10. In Christ’s submission, humanity had access to salvation, and with Christ’s obedience to God, the redemption of the world was set in motion. 

Hence, the Hebrews preacher has a series of affirmations, beginning with the humanity of Jesus (5:1–4). The preacher of Hebrews makes a bold affirmation of the identity and the being of Jesus Christ (5:1–10). Several qualifications and preparations of Jesus as the high priest and manifestation of God are enumerated by the preacher. Jesus, our high priest who shared in all our human struggles and was tested in every manner yet found without sin, was entirely obedient and faithful to God. 

However, the obedience of Jesus did come at an excruciating and agonizing cost, with cries, tears, and death, and his prayers in the garden of Gethsemane and on the cross did not even deliver him, but he remained centered in God. Healthy self-love is most manageable when the awareness of how marvelously God has gifted each servant is acknowledged. Indeed, when abilities are exercised and weaknesses are minimized, one gains a glimpse of God’s plan for the way one is to live life.

The more directly a person relies on God to guide decision-making, the more effectively that life will be lived as a gift to the world. Jesus lived and conducted his life with deep humility, and like all biblical faith and spiritual leaders, Jesus did not aspire to the role of a Savior or even work to attain the position. Instead, God appointed him and sent him into the world to live, minister, and die for all humanity as a proclamation and demonstration of God’s love for humanity. This, in turn, created great satisfaction and encouraged greater communion with his Father, our God. 

The more self-accepting Jesus did, the more he came to accept all who have faith in God. Hence, God’s love begets self-love, which begets love that resembles the ripple effects of water touched by a rock. The earthly life of Jesus was a training and preparation for a much higher divine office; he was empathetic to humanity and divinely obedient to God. Having been perfected by challenges and pain, Jesus was glorified by God and appointed to be the Savior of the world. Unlike various leaders in the world, who appoint themselves, Jesus was proclaimed by God as a high priest and given a name higher than any other names in or under the world (Philippians 2:1–11). 

While people claim to be called by God and work hard to be ordained as pastors, the preacher of Hebrews invites us to view ordination as God’s own prerogative, and in that manner, denominational ordination does give us a job. Hence, authentic ordination comes through the power of the Holy Spirit, and in many cases, ordination becomes a reality when laypeople claim one as their pastor. 

The humility and submissive obedience of Jesus Christ to God earned him the crown of glory. In the Hebrew Bible, we read about prophets and even disciples who had weaknesses and at times failed to obey God’s word. On the other hand, Jesus did not turn his back against God, and in no one instance did he stray from God. This is a lesson to leaders in the 21st-century church that when situations are difficult, the last thing one should do is compromise faith. The easy way out is not an option, but Jesus modeled the hard way of suffering, crying, and dying while still holding faith in God. 

In other words, the road to heaven goes through pain, struggles, tears, limping, and loss of one’s being. The preacher of Hebrews informs us that God’s work is not a political exercise in which one appoints himself or herself to be a bishop, clergy, or ecclesial leader. These positions are given to us by God, as the Scriptures say in Psalm 2:7 and 110:4. However, because of people’s desires to get richer and richer, we are experiencing many leaders of denominations claiming power, even if it means others die. The sin of our time is that humanity tends to step into positions and use God’s name to maintain power and abuse people. 

Could it be that 21st-century humanity has lost its sense of being called by God or that God is no longer part of what we call the church? The answer to this poignant question is indeed true because Jesus, as the Son of God and Savior of the world, learned to submit to God’s will; he learned to endure hardships, trials, beatings, persecutions, and death on the cross. And he was in the grave, but on the third day, God resurrected Jesus, and that deep sense of humility demonstrated by his perfect obedience to God qualified him to be the harbinger of eternal salvation to all believers.  

In Hebrews 5:10, the preacher makes a supreme point that Jesus was appointed by God as a high priest in the order of Melchizedek (see also 7:1–28). In 5:7–8, the sermon takes us back to the earthly days of Jesus when he prayed to God, the only one who has the power to save, and God saw his reverent submission. Carrying and sharing the pain of human experiences, Jesus offered prayers and supplications with anguish of heart and cries of the soul for the sake of saving humanity. Even today, Jesus Christ is involved in the ministry of salvation to all people in the world. His prayers and ours are an offering from the soul to God. 

Similarly, believers are heirs to Christ, and it is essential for us to learn obedience through suffering as Jesus did. We all love comfort, but in comfort, we fail to learn obedience to God. The learning of obedience in Jesus’ case consisted not of unlearning disobedience or gaining skills in fighting pain. Rather, Jesus learned obedience through the trials and perils of the heart’s desires. He passed the test and endured at all costs, and was obedient even unto death, and the last hours of his life were a testament to and a climax of the testing of his obedience (Philippians 2:8). Indeed, with the expiring cry “It is finished,” the lesson was learned, and the learner was made perfect by God for the priesthood he was to exercise. 

That is the lesson we all must endure, and in the end, God will perfect us, strengthen us, equip us, and make us ready to serve in any location and context. Disciples, like their master, are made perfect by the experience of life and death.

In our 21st-century world, we may ask the following questions: Where are the submissive and obedient leaders of the church? Who is willing to build and embody the kingdom of God? Where has the church gone wrong in proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ that leads to social justice in the world? Can the remnant learn the ways of Christ’s perfect obedience? The message of Hebrews is due and is urgently needed in the 21st-century global church.