Category: An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke

Jesus told many parables. The kingdom of God was the primary theme of many of these parables. Quite a number of his parables are found only in the “orderly account of the things that have been fulfilled among us”— the document which we know as the Gospel according to Luke. We have been hearing a number of these this year, as the lectionary has taken us through this Gospel: the lost coin, the lost sheep, the lost (prodigal) son and the lost (elder) son; the Good Samaritan, the rich man who built barns, the man planning to build a tower and the king planning to go to war.

In the parables of Jesus which are found only in Luke’s Gospel, we meet a variety of upper-class people: a rich man who built larger barns for his produce, a tower builder and a king at war, a rich father of two sons, a steward of a wealthy man, a rich man who dressed in purple and feasted daily, a farmer with slaves and a prestigious and powerful judge. In a number of these parables, the way that Jesus tells the story raises challenges for such people: they are called to account for the benefits and blessing s that they enjoy in their lives.

The parable set as the Gospel passage for this coming Sunday (Luke 18:1-8) is a case in point: the prestigious and powerful judge is called to account for the way he does (and does not) dispense justice. Alongside the judge, the widow is held up as a positive role model, because of the way she continues to raise the difficult questions with the judge.

This is regularly understood to be a parable about persistence, with the widow as the key figure. Don’t give up! Keep on pressing the point! Knock on the door of that judge, and keep knocking, until he rises from his sleep and opens the door to you. Don’t let the authorities ignore you or marginalise you. Make a noise! Rouse the sleepers! Agitate! Work to see your demands brought to fruition!

Now, a standard way of interpreting parables is to allegorise them. That means, drawing clear lines of connection between the characters in the story, and people in real life. Classically, the judge who was being disturbed by the persistent widow, knocking on his door, perhaps crying out in the dead of night, this judge is usually equated with God. The persistent widow, by contrast, is equated with faithful people, praying to God.

If that is done, then we are provided a most disturbing picture of God. Do we really see God as unjust, oblivious to the cries of need around him, asleep in bed as the needs of the world grow larger and more pressing? It is not, I would suggest, how people of faith really conceive of God.

What about turning this interpretation on its head? Even though the text suggests that we interpret the judge as a symbol,for God, that isn’t the end of the matter. If the text is about prayer, then it is about the two-way interaction that happens when we pray. Prayer is as much about what we say to God, as it is about what God says to us, what we hear when we pray, what is pressed upon us from our close and intimate engagement with our Creator.

So, if we flip things in the parable—what about if we see the judge as a symbol of systems in our human society? Like our systems often become, the judge was inflexible, aloof, resistant to interference, opposed to alteration. And why not see the woman as a picture of God? Persistent, incessant, calling out the injustices of our society, raising a ruckus when things are unfair or inequitable.

Read like this, the parable is about the way that God continues to press on us, challenging us, confronting us, pushing us to grow in our discipleship and deepen in our faith.

Finally, there is one more aspect of this parable that I want to raise. If we explore the word used to describe the widow in the original Greek of this Gospel, the word that is usually translated as “persistent”, we will find that the original Greek is more accurately rendered as “shameless”. How about that picture of God—the one who is utterly shameless–shamelessly persistent in making demands of us?

Widows in ancient Hebrew society were in a perilous position. In a strongly patriarchal society, the patronage of a man was vital: a man as husband and provider, a man as father and protector, a man as the household head. Children without fathers—orphans—as well as women without husbands—widows—were in equally perilous situations. They were vulnerable people, often at risk of being mistreated and exploited, of being pushed to the edge of society and being forgotten.

In our time, we require those in leadership in the church to have obtained a Working With Vulnerable People card, to signal that they are aware of the power imbalances present in situations where they minister. In the ancient world, no such system existed; but we do find in the Hebrew Scriptures that there are regular exhortations and instructions to the people to take care of widows and orphans, such as the command, “you shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child” (Exod 22:22), or the instruction to gather a tithe of produce and invite “the Levite, the foreigner, the fatherless, and the widow to come and eat and be filled” (Deut 14:28–29), or the prophetic decree, “do not oppress the sojourner, the fatherless, or the widow” (Jer 7:5), and then in the New Testament true religion is defined as being “to care for orphans and widows in their distress” (James 1:27). Even in ancient society, vulnerable people needed protection.

The judge ought to have taken special care of the widow, if he had been paying attention to his scriptural teachings; but he shuts her out, literally and metaphorically, and wishes to have nothing to do with her. The widow needs to represent herself; there seems to be no male relative to speak for her in the male-dominated court. She needs to make multiple attempts to engage with the judge; she has no resources to offer a bribe which would ensure a swift hearing. And the woman appears to have suffered an injustice; she pleads, “grant me justice against my opponent”.

So the widow persists. She steps out of the submissive pattern of behaviour that is expected of her, the culture required women to keep shame, by remaining in the private sphere, and not to claim honour, by acting in the public sphere. This widow steps out of that private sphere, into public life, and takes responsibility for her own wellbeing, no longer dependant on a man to advocate for her. By doing this, she claims her own portion of honour, and so acts with no shame. She is shameless.

In this way of reading the parable, the widow acts in precisely the way that Lady Wisdom is portrayed in Proverbs 8:1-4. She, a female, is on the public arena of ancient Israel: On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance of the portals she cries out. These locations were where men were expected to be active, and the gates to the town were the places where men gathered to discuss Torah and determine cases brought to them as judges.

For a woman to be there, and to be vocally active in such a public way, was a breach of the honour-shame code. Women speaking out in public were acting in a way that challenged the honour of the men who alone “rightly” belonged there. They did not adhere to the posture and action of shame that they were required to demonstrate, as the flip side of honour. They were acting in a way that demonstrated they were shameless.

The widow, pressing the point with the judge, is not only persistent, but—like Lady Wisdom, like God as we listen to and engage with God—utterly shameless. She demonstrates intense, ongoing, persistence. How might she be a model for us to emulate in our discipleship?

See also

https://johntsquires.com/2019/02/05/costly-discipleship-according-to-luke/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/an-orderly-account-a-quick-guide-to-luke-and-acts/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/02/19/the-beloved-physician-the-lover-of-god-and-loving-our-enemies-luke-6/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/17/the-death-resurrection-and-ascension-of-jesus-in-lukes-orderly-account/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/the-cross-cultural-nature-of-the-early-jesus-movement/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/30/the-calling-of-saul-and-the-turn-to-the-gentiles-modelling-the-missional-imperative-acts-8-12/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/05/22/jesus-and-his-followers-at-table-in-lukes-orderly-account/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/07/02/from-learners-to-leaders-deepening-discipleship-in-lukes-orderly-account/

This year, we have been following the story of Jesus as it is offered to us by the author of the orderly account of the things that have been fulfilled among us–the document which we know as the Gospel according to Luke. (see https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/an-orderly-account-a-quick-guide-to-luke-and-acts/)

This account of the ministry of Jesus gives a prominent place to the journey that Jesus undertook, along with his disciples, from his home region in Galilee, to the capital city of Jerusalem. The journey, in Mark’s Gospel, is all over in just a few verses. You can read about it in Mark 10—and look carefully, it is over pretty quickly!

In Luke’s account, this journey, from Galilee in the north to Jerusalem in the south, starts on chapter 9 and continues right through until chapter 19: that’s 40% of the whole story! The journey gets underway when Luke notes that, at a crucial point during his ministry in Galilee, Jesus sets his face to go to Jerusalem (9:51). This turn of phrase is prophetic term (found often in Ezekiel; see 4:3,7, 6:2, 14:8, 15:7, 21:2, 25:2, 28:21) which indicates his firm commitment to this pathway, but also indicates the judgement that will take place through this visit.

But significantly, the first thing that Jesus does on this journey is gather a larger group of his followers, seventy such disciples (or in some versions, seventy–two), to begin in the role that will later consume their lives. He sends them out to proclaim the central message that the kingdom of God has come near (10:1–12; cf. 9:2).

Quite significantly, when the seventy are sent out, they are in the region of Samaria (9:51-62). The Samaritans were difficult customers; James and John actually wanted Jesus to invoke the wrath of God and consume them (9:54). Jesus, by contrast, refuses to do this (9:55) and charges the seventy to preach a message peace to the Samaritans (10:5) and to declare the good news, that God’s kingdom is right there, in midst of them (10:9,11; cf. 9:2).

It is noteworthy, then, that after chapter 10, the next time that Luke reports an actual location for Jesus and his disciples, is in the passage set for our reading this week, in chapter 17. And that location, strangely enough, is no different from the starting point of the journey. Yes, after seven long chapters of travelling, Jesus and his disciples are still up north: On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee, Luke reports (17:11).

In this story, Jesus heals a group of ten lepers. They, of course, are jubilant at being healed, no longer outcasts, but restored to health and reconnected with family and friends. However, as Luke reports, only one of these ten lepers had the grace, and the gratitude, to return to Jesus and thank him for what he had done to them all.

According to Luke, ‘one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner? (17:15-18).

Only one; and that one, a Samaritan—a member of the despised northern tribe, the people who had long been at loggerheads with their southern neighbours in Judea, as well as with the people in Galilee, from where Jesus and a number of his first followers came.

These two stories, both set in and around Samaria, the enemy territory (as it were), set out some significant aspects of the ministry of Jesus.

On the way, Luke reports on the teachings and healings of Jesus and his encounters and debates with various people. Many of these reports are drawn from a special source that only Luke seemed to know, as well as another source known as ‘Q’, which provides material for both Luke and Matthew. So the journey, over ten chapters in Luke, provides the context for a rich selection of teaching and instruction at depth.

When Jesus sets his face towards the city to bring God’s judgement upon it (Luke 9:51), he knows what the cost will be for himself, personally. He is clear that he must travel with that end in view (13:33). When he enters the city, he comes as the messenger of divine judgement (19:44); the visitation of God is a biblical phrase for executing diving judgement. Along the way, he encounters opposition and criticism.

That started with the Samaritans, at the end of chapter 9, reflected in the antagonistic words of James and John, who wanted Jesus to pronounce judgement on them. At the start of the journey, the relationship is one of opponents. Jews and Samaritans do not get on.

But here, in chapter 17, as the journey has been underway for quite some time, the relationship between Jesus and his followers, and the Samaritans, has been transformed. Indeed, from amongst all ten of those keepers who were healed, only one returned to give thanks—and that one was a Samaritan! And perhaps this one solitary Samaritan might well signal the turnaround in understanding about Jesus.

No longer an opponent. No longer an enemy. Now, a friend. Now, a companion along the way. The turnaround is remarkable.

And yet—let us also remember that, back there are the start of the journey, in the early days, Jesus was already signalling this message. Immediately after the seventy had returned from their mission of proclaiming the kingdom, Jesus engaged in a debate with a scribe, a teacher of the Law. What must I do to inherit eternal life? was the scribe’s question. Love God, and love Neighbour, was the reply from Jesus, drawing directly from the very Law that the scribe knew and taught.

Who is my neighbour? the scribe then asked. And Jesus, typically, replied by telling a story. It’s a story reported only in Luke’s Gospel. Thank goodness for Luke, and for his special sources! It is the story that reveals who the neighbour actually is—yes, the neighbour is a Samaritan. The story is the parable of the Good Samaritan.

So, for Jesus, it is clear, from early in the journey, through until towards the ends of the journey. He reaches out, offering a hand of friendship, inviting a relationship of acceptance, to the traditional enemies—the Samaritans.

And even more strikingly, if we attend to the geography that Luke provides us, all of the journey thus far has been in or around or near to Samaria. Not in Galilee, the home territory of Jesus. Not in Judea, in the area around Jerusalem, the religious centre and economic capital of that region, he has been teaching and healing, preaching and telling parables, amongst the Samaritans—those very outsiders, in the traditional way of viewing things.

This returning, healed leper, was a Samaritan—an outsider, a foreigner, in the traditional understanding of the time. And yet, Jesus not only heals him, but commends him: your faith has made you well, he says to the Samaritan—as he had earlier said to the sinful woman who anointed his feet (7:50), and the haemmhoraging woman who touched the fringe of his clothes (8:48), and as he will subsequently say to the persistent widow (18:8) and the blind beggar outside Jericho (18:48), just before he finally enters Jerusalem.

And these figures, all outcasts because of their circumstances, were welcomed and affirmed by Jesus. They are the great examples of faith, in this Gospel! They are the ones whom he praises! Jesus demonstrates a gracious openness to those whom society regarded as unclean, despised, outcast.

Indeed, as Luke tells the story of Jesus, and then stretches it out to tell the story of the early church, in the book of Acts, we encounter, not only this foreigner, the healed Samaritan leper, but a number of other foreigners, whom Jesus accepts, and affirms. For instance, early in his ministry, he tells the old story of Naaman the Syrian, another foreigner, another leper, who was healed, and served as an example of faith (Luke 4; and at a key point in the second volume, Acts, we encounter the story of yet another foreigner, the centurion Cornelius, who becomes the first Gentile to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 10).

So Naaman and Cornelius stand, with the anonymous Samaritan leper, as key signals for this central truth in the message and the practice of Jesus: Grace is offered openly, abundantly, to those who would be regarded by tradition as being beyond the pale. The Gospel, the good news, the message of the kingdom of God, is a message that opens out, that stretches out to reach beyond the traditional limitations of understanding, with an invitation shaped by gracious openness.

See also https://johntsquires.com/2019/09/29/gracious-openness-and-active-discipleship-as-key-characteristics-of-church-membership/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/08/26/disreputable-outsiders-invited-inside-parables-in-luke-14/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/02/05/costly-discipleship-according-to-luke/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/an-orderly-account-a-quick-guide-to-luke-and-acts/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/02/19/the-beloved-physician-the-lover-of-god-and-loving-our-enemies-luke-6/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/17/the-death-resurrection-and-ascension-of-jesus-in-lukes-orderly-account/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/the-cross-cultural-nature-of-the-early-jesus-movement/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/30/the-calling-of-saul-and-the-turn-to-the-gentiles-modelling-the-missional-imperative-acts-8-12/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/05/22/jesus-and-his-followers-at-table-in-lukes-orderly-account/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/07/02/from-learners-to-leaders-deepening-discipleship-in-lukes-orderly-account/

The call to discipleship, already present in Mark’s Gospel, is highlighted in the teachings of the Lukan Jesus, concentrated especially in the section of Luke’s “orderly account” where Jesus journeys towards Jerusalem (from 9:51 onwards). On this journey, he reveals to his followers precisely what it will cost to follow him. We see this especially at 9:57–62, a passage set in the lectionary some weeks ago, and at 14:25–33, set in the lectionary for this coming Sunday.

On the journey, Jesus teaches that following him will entail a disturbing discipleship. It will mean adopting a radical lifestyle, including the renunciation of one’s family (12:49–53; 14:26; 18:28–30), the disbursement of one’s possessions (9:3; 10:4; 12:22–23; 14:33; 18:22) and the abandonment of familiar securities (9:24; 12:22–23).

Jesus predicts that his followers will know what it means to be “hated, excluded, reviled, defamed” (6:22); they will travel “like lambs into the midst of wolves” (10:3); and they will know the experience of arrest, persecution, trial, betrayal, hatred, and even death (21:12–19).

This scenario of disturbing discipleship continues beyond the lifetime of Jesus of Nazareth. As Luke extends his “orderly account” into a second volume, we see that people are persecuted, imprisoned, brought to trial, and even put to death. In these ways, the true cost of faithfulness is made known. The charge given to Paul summarises what all faithful followers of Jesus might expect: “how much he must suffer for the sake of my name” (Acts 9:16).

What follows is a study on disturbing discipleship, through the lens of Luke 14, which Elizabeth and I wrote some time ago.

Skim read through Luke 14:25–35.

(This is the passage set in the lectionary for this coming Sunday.)

This passage appears in the middle of the section of Luke’s Gospel which recounts the journey which Jesus took to Jerusalem. It contains a collection of sayings of Jesus which focus on the cost involved in following him.

Read Luke 14:26. Then read Matthew 10:37–38.

What did Jesus mean by this saying?

Are we meant to take his words literally, or symbolically?

What was the role of ‘family’ in Jewish society?

What would it have meant to have abandoned your family in the way that Jesus suggests?

Read Exodus 20:12.

What does this commandment contribute to our exploration of the words of

Jesus?

Read Exodus 32:25–29 and Deuteronomy 33:8–9.

How do these passages help us to understand this saying of Jesus?

Read Luke 14:27.

What did it mean to “carry your cross” in the world of Jesus?

Comment: Sometimes the cross was referred to in shorthand as “the slave’s punishment”. Plutarch, a Gentile writer of the 2nd century CE, wrote that “every

criminal condemned to death bears his cross on his back” (Moralia 554AB).

Sallust, a Roman historian of the 1st century BCE, wrote, “The most notorious [pirates] were either hung from the mast or flogged or fastened high up on a gibbet without being tortured first” (Historiae fragment 3.9).

In the light of such sayings, what do you think that it meant for the disciples of Jesus when they heard Jesus command them to “carry your cross”?

What connotations did this language hold?

How do we interpret these words today?

Do we still think of “the cross” as “the slave’s punishment”?

Jesus spoke often of this theme.

Read Luke 9:23 and 12:51; and John 12:24–25.

Now return to Luke 14:27.

What impact do these words have when we hear them in the context of Jesus’ journey towards Jerusalem, where he will die on a cross?

Read the parable of the tower builder at Luke 14:28–30.

What do you think is the basic point of this parable?

What does this parable tell us about discipleship?

Read the parable of the king preparing for war at Luke 14:31–32.

What do you think is the basic point of this parable?

What does this parable tell us about discipleship?

Read the saying at Luke 14:33. Now re-read Luke 14:27.

Read Luke 18:28–30.

Was Peter right in expressing his opinions like this?

Comment: In the 1st century, the place occupied by a person in society was determined by their relationships with many other people in society: their family members, their employer and their fellow-workers, and people with whom they conducted business.

In such a context, what would it have meant for a person to have renounced everything? Where would they gain their support and sustenance for living? What does it mean for you to “renounce everything”?

Read the saying at Luke 14:34–35.

Now read Matthew 5:13 and Mark 9:50.

Comment: In a society such as the 1st century, salt was used as a preservative to keep food edible over a long period of time. (Remember there were no refrigerators!)

How does this help us to understand the meaning of this saying?

Note the conclusion of this collection of sayings at Luke 14:35.

Once again, this was something that Jesus often said.

Read Mark 4:23; Matthew 13:9; Luke 8:8; Matthew 11:15; and Matthew 13:43.

Comment: Some medieval monks who were copying the text of the New Testament must have thought that the last phrase of this saying was worth repeating often. It appears also in some manuscripts at Mark 7:16, Matthew 25:29, Luke 12:21, and Luke 21:4. The same phrase provides a refrain in the early section of the book of Revelation (2:7, 11, 17, 29; 3:6, 13, 22; and see also 13:9).

What effect does this saying have on you?

What kind of emotions does it generate in you?

Some lines in the readings set in some of the lectionary passages for this coming Sunday place the focus on the judgement of God.

In the parable of the vineyard which is recounted in Isaiah 5, the Lord God is claimed to say: And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down. I will make it a waste; it shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it.

This is immediately followed by the declaration that the vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting; he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!

In other words, the judgement of God is to be rained down on Israel:

bloodshed, not justice;

a cry, not righteousness.

By the way, there is a neat wordplay here in the original Hebrew of the parable that is worth reproducing In transliteration:

le-mishpat we-hinneh mispah

li-tzdaqah we-hinneh tzeaqah

The psalm chosen in the lectionary to accompany this scripture passage, Psalm 80, makes allusion to the same action of judgement threatened in the parable, before going on to utter a cry for divine compassion:

Why then have you broken down its walls, so that all who pass along the way pluck its fruit? The boar from the forest ravages it, and all that move in the field feed on it. Turn again, O God of hosts; look down from heaven, and see; have regard for this vine, the stock that your right hand planted.

God executes judgement according to this psalm, also.

The same emphatic declaration of divine judgement occurs in the words of Jesus in Luke 12: Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.

This is no “Jesus meek and mild” of the hymn by Charles Wesley:

Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child,

Pity my simplicity, Suffer me to come to thee.

Loving Jesus, gentle Lamb, In thy gracious hands I am;

Make me, Saviour, what thou art, Live thyself within my heart.

Now I would be as thou art; Give me an obedient heart;

Thou art pitiful and kind, Let me have thy loving mind.

On the contrary, this is a Jesus filled with passion, declaring I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! This Jesus is much more akin to the figure that is depicted by John Bell and Graham Maule of the Iona Community:

Jesus Christ is raging, raging in the streets,

where injustice spirals and real hope retreats.

Listen, Lord Jesus, I am angry too;

in the Kingdom’s causes let me rage with you.

In Luke 12, Jesus is carrying through the programme that he enunciated at the start of his ministry, preaching the good news of the kingdom of God (Luke 4:43)—the same kingdom in which God requires upright behaviour (Luke 13:22-30). And Jesus takes on the role of declaring God’s requirements (this is especially expressed in many parables in Matthew’s Gospel) and affirming that, in the very fact of his presence, the kingdom is already a present reality (Luke 11:20 and 17:20).

Jesus does not shy away from the role of stating divine judgement. He does so, on the basis of the claim that he makes, in the Synoptic Gospels, to be integrally related to the kingdom which God is seeking to establish.

What are we to make of the righteous judgements of God, threatened in the parable, prayed about in the psalm, and declared with forceful passion in the words of Jesus?

Judgement sits alongside grace as integral the nature of God. Divine judgement is carried out by God from the plagues of Exodus to the denunciations of the great prophets and the military victories of foreign powers. That same judgement is proclaimed by Jesus, valorised by Paul, and envisaged in the dreams of the prophet John in the last book of the Bible.

Judgement is executed on those human beings who have entered into covenant relationship with the Lord God. Judgement means that God is holding them (and us) to account for the actions they (and we) have undertaken, which contradict the conditions of the covenant and demonstrate that one party (the human party) has strayed from the agreement reflected in the covenant.

This is as much the case for the New Covenant (reflected in the New Testament) as it was in the Old Covenant (reflected in the books that Christians identify as the Old Testament). It’s not the case that the OT God is a figure of judgement but the NT God is a figure of grace. Grace and Judgement exist equally and consistently in the character of God as attested in both testaments of Christian Scripture.

Judgement sits alongside Grace. They are related as both being integral to the kingdom which God seeks to establish, and the demands which come when seeking to be faithful to the vision of that kingdom.

God’s Grace invites people into a covenantal relationship, where mutual respect is to be manifested in specified actions. The Law that is given in the Old Testament is a guide as to what is expected of the human parties to the Covenant. Grace brings with it responsibilities and expectations.

That Covenant is the foundation upon which the Kingdom is based. God seeks to establish a realm in which the convent relationship guides all actions; a realm in which the requirements of justice and righteousness are lived out in the actions and attitudes and relationships of those who inhabit the Kingdom. So Justice is a consequence of the covenant established by Grace.

God’s Judgement operates in a manner consistent with divine Grace and is consequent upon the requirement of Justice. Judgement is executed when the actions and behaviours that are expected within the covenant relationship are not carried out; when injustice reigns in place of justice. The Law that is given in the Old Testament is a guide as to what is expected of the human parties to the Covenant. Judgement expresses the consequences that follow when the responsibilities and expectations of the covenant relationship are not met.

So we ought reasonably to expect that God will exercise judgement.

It is, of course, ultimately a divine decision as to when and how judgement is to be executed. Scriptural advice is consistent, that is not for human beings to determine that judgement. Jesus exhorts this in Matt 7:1-5 and Luke 6:37, Paul repeats it in Romans 14:4, and James advises the same in James 4:11-12.

The psalmist expresses the claim that God rightly judges people in various Psalms, such as 7:8-11, 50:4-6, 58:1-11, 67:3-4, 76:1-12, 96:10-13, and 98:1-9, and the prophets concur: see Isa 2:4, 11:1-5, Jer 11:20, Ezek 7:27, 18:30-32, 34:17-22, Micah 4:1-5.

So faithful adherence to the covenant relationship means that we are expected to adhere to the demands of justice, which are integral to the kingdom which God seeks to establish. And those demands of justice mean that we might well expect and anticipate judgement when we, as humans, fail to keep our commitment in the covenant.

So, I wonder: does Jesus have every right to threaten a fiery judgement and execute divine wrath? Especially, given who he is confessed to be, within the tradition of Christian orthodoxy? The threat of judgement, based on a requirement of justice, comes with our agreement to commit to the covenant which God has established in grace. That’s what Jesus is seeking to affirm—isn’t it?

This offers us a different picture of Jesus from what Charles Wesley popularised. But it’s a portrayal that is faithful to the witness of scripture.

See also

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/an-orderly-account-a-quick-guide-to-luke-and-acts/

and

https://johntsquires.com/2022/07/25/undoing-the-stereotype-of-the-vengeful-god-of-the-old-testament-hosea-11-pentecost-8c/