The Last Word

 You’ve possibly heard of a woman called Jackie Weaver.  She was the star of a viral video of a virtual meeting of Handforth Parish Council, in Cheshire.  Ms Weaver was famously told, “You have no authority here,” by the Council’s chairman.  To prove how wrong he was, Jackie Weaver – as host – promptly removed him from the Zoom call.

  Ms Weaver was facilitating the meeting of the dysfunctional group on behalf of Cheshire Association of Local Councils.  The chairman, Mr Brian Tolver, may not have recognised Weaver’s authority, but she certainly had it.  Perhaps this was an authority that transcended the normal structures of the group.

  With today marking the Christian Feast of the Ascension, I wanted to round out my musings on Matthew’s version of Easter and the events afterwards, by turning to the final words Jesus delivers in that Gospel.  His remaining disciples had gathered, as per his instructions, on a hill in Galilee:

“And Jesus came and said to them, ’All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me…” (Matthew 28:18)

 

Jesus had been crucified because people refused to recognise his authority.  But now, after his resurrection, Jesus tells his followers about his authority.  It had been commented on before – at the end of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew chapters 5-7, also on a hill in Galilee), Matthew reports that “the crowds were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes” (Matthew 7:28, 29, emphasis added).  There’s a sense here of Jesus actually knowing the stuff he teaches, and not just regurgitating someone else’s teachings.

What we have here, at the end of Matthew, is the vindication of Jesus.  All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him.  Given – by whom?  The witness of Hebrew scripture and thought says that only God could give that authority, because it belongs to God.  Some examples:

“heaven and the heaven of heavens belong to the LORD your God, the earth with all that is in it” (Deuteronomy 10:14);

“The heavens are yours [ie God], the earth also is yours; the world and all that is in it – you have founded them” (Psalm 89:11)

These are just two of many verses that make it clear: heaven and earth belong to God.

So this authority is devolved, it’s given, by God alone.  This is in opposition to the dominant views that say Rome or Caesar has all authority (even though that seemed to be the case) or that the priests and teachers of the law, and “their scribes”, were the custodians of authority.  Jesus subverts that, by asserting this transcendent authority.  Despite appearances to the contrary, the final authority lies with God, and has been given to Jesus.

This is inextricably linked with the idea of Messiah.  In Daniel 7:13-14, there’s a vision of

 “one like a human being [or, son of man, Jesus’ favourite self-designation]… And he came to the Ancient One… To him was given dominion [in the Greek version, it’s the same word as Matthew uses for authority] and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations and languages should serve him…”

This became a pretty solid picture of a Messianic king.  And Matthew suggests that Jesus fits the bill.

Remember when Jesus started out?  Way back in Matthew 4:17, his message was clear and simple: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near [or, is at hand].”  In other words, an alternative reality is close, you can reach out and touch it almost.  In the person of Jesus, there was a visible, tangible manifestation of this reality – that God really is in charge, and that God really will do things God’s way.

This is important because the first word of the so-called Great Commission of Matthew 28:19-20 is “therefore”.  And that always refers to what was immediately previous: ‘in light of what we have just said…’  So, bearing in mind that all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Jesus, bearing in mind that God’s heavenly kingdom – the rule of truth and peace and hope and love and justice and faith – is present among us in its greatest emissary – so what?  What about it, what next?

Well, the next line, the commission itself, is what I would term, ‘the phrase that launched a thousand ships.’  It has been responsible for almost any ‘missionary’ endeavour that has ever been undertaken by the church.  The line is, “Go… and make disciples of all nations…” (Matthew 28:19).  Most Western empires, the entire colonial project, were built on this.  It was used as a rationale for powerful people(s) to “make disciples” of all nations – subjugating them, enslaving them, converting them by force often.  Yet, on so many levels, this missed the point.

Firstly, from a purely linguistic perspective, it’s a misinterpretation.  There is one actual verb in the sentence, in the Greek.  And it’s not ‘go’ or ‘baptise’ or ‘teach’.  Each of these words are actually participles in the original, and some carry that in the English (“baptising”, “teaching”).  The only verb is ‘to disciple’.  That’s the command.  Not go.  The disciples were not being told to go anywhere.  The sense of it is more like, ‘going’, or ‘as you go [about your life, for example]’.  The verb and command is ’disciple’.

In Greek, the verb is actually the same whether it’s being a disciple or making a disciple.  So it could be an instruction to ‘be disciples’ or to ‘make disciples’.  What is a disciple anyway?  It’s a learner (Latin discere = to learn).  A student.  The idea and the term was already in use among Jews.  A rabbi, a teacher, would have disciples who would follow him around, just as Jesus’ disciples followed him, learning from their master, so that they could eventually be like him and pass on his teachings.

So, here Jesus instructs his disciples to make disciples – or simply to be disciples – as they go about their living, among all the people(s), cultures, etc, they find themselves in.  The word that’s translated “nations” is a very strong word, that Jewish hearers or readers (if they knew Greek) would recognise.  “Ethnoi” was the word for Gentiles, or the nations – basically, this was the whole world of non-Jewish people.  But the Greek word – from which we get the term ‘ethnicity’ – actually has to do with a group of people connected by custom or culture (the way we do things round here).

This kind of makes me think that disciples of Jesus maybe shouldn’t put limits or boundaries on who they mix with, and on who can be a disciple of Jesus.  People of all customs, cultures and colours can be disciples of Jesus.  All sexes and sexualities and gender identities and ages.    All demographics.  They can be invited into this radical, alternative lifestyle that recognised the sovereignty of God and goodness, and lives in response to that.  Could this even include people of other traditions?  I think it could.  Let’s review some of the radical inclusion of Jesus.  There were women in his group, and one of them, Mary (Martha’s sister) even takes the position of a disciple in Luke 10:39, sitting at his feet and listening – that’s what disciples do.  In Acts 8, an Ethiopian eunuch is baptised as a believer, after they ask the question, “What is to stop me?”  Just to be clear, this was a black, African, Gentile, castrate (sexually ambiguous), and a slave.  And there was nothing to stop this person being baptised.

That brings me to my next point: “baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…” (Matthew 28:19).  It sounds very formulaic, like something we’d actually hear in church.  And it is.  This phrase was used by early Christians in the ritual of baptism.  In a very early text (mid-late first century perhaps) known as The Didache, there is instruction on baptism: “immerse in running water, ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit’”.  The preference was for cold, running water, but if not available (it was Palestine after all), then warm would do.  And as a last resort, water could be sprinkled on the head.  In fact, the Didache may been written for the same audience as Matthew: late first century Christians in the Syrian hills?

Baptism, then, is about immersion.  The word literally means to dip or immerse (Greek baptizo).  The Trinitarian formula is interesting to me, partly because Jesus doesn’t really talk about the Trinity in Matthew, but especially interesting when we take into account that the preposition ‘in’ could also mean ‘into’.  So it could be about immersion into the mystery of God as Trinity.  In Hebrew thought, someone’s name was their essential character.

My own experience of baptism speaks to this.  There was nothing especially magical or even spiritual about it – no doves or voices from heaven.  I was in a large inflatable paddling pool with cold water and 2 good friends, one on either side.  And at the appointed moment, they dipped me into the water.  It was a strange moment.  I felt completely at their mercy – hoping they would lift me back out!  But that is what true community is.  It is opening ourselves up to the other.  Mutuality.  Like the Trinity – sharing of personality, giving and receiving.  There’s a vulnerability.  Once again, this is a key aspect of being disciples: sharing of lives.  Look at Jesus – he was rarely alone.  Something about Jesus generated community.  And disciples of Jesus seek to do the same – to create spaces where we can all experience something of God in and as community.

Disciples follow their master’s lead.  They do as the master said and did.  And they also look to pass on the teachings of their master.  I think this is a lost element in much of Christianity.  We spend a lot of time celebrating ‘what Jesus has done for us’ (i.e. his death on the cross, and sometimes his resurrection), but fail to take seriously what Jesus said, and we have a good collection of his sayings – especially in Matthew where Jesus is presented as a teacher as much as anything else.  To paraphrase C S Lewis, it’s always Easter but never, well, any other time.  I actually think Jesus did expect his followers, then and now, to obey his teachings.  To try to live the way he taught and lived, to embody the kind of life and world he spoke of.

It's reminiscent (perhaps unsurprisingly) of the book of Deuteronomy, the fifth book of the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament.  Its name means ‘second law’ because it is a recapitulation of the law (Torah) already laid out in Exodus and Leviticus – with a different angle and from a different time (possibly written down earlier!).  There’s almost a refrain running through the book, to observe the entire commandment of God that Moses has commanded.  This, says Deuteronomy, is the way to life – the way of life.  The alternative – disobedience, failure to keep the law – would result in death and disaster and exile.  I think we are faced with the same choice by Jesus.  We can follow his teachings – actually take seriously his words and his vision for life – and find life, or we can pay little or not attention to those words and find ourselves in a kind of exile, in patterns of destruction – of the self, of others and of creation.  Disciples learn, and disciples teach – they pass it on.

A final thought, to tie it all up.  Ascension is not unique to Jesus, or to Christian tradition.  Of course, there are stories of people ascending bodily to heaven in the bible, and traditions outside the canon around people within it.  Mary, the mother of Jesus, is a prime example.  The prophet Elijah’s story, in the books of Kings, concludes with his ascent in a whirlwind, and passing his mantle to his disciple Elisha.  The patriarch Enoch in Genesis disappears – it’s unclear, but there’s a sense that he was ‘taken up’ alive.

Other faiths have similar stories.  Muhammad is said to have ascended into heaven at site of the Dome of the Rock, although he returned and eventually died.  There are stories of Hindu kings entering heaven in their human bodies as well.

The tradition of Jesus’ Ascension is recorded in Mark and in Luke-Acts (2 volumes by the same New Testament author), but not actually in Matthew.  The scene is set for Jesus to rise on the clouds, from the top of this mountain, but he doesn’t.  Jesus doesn’t leave, he doesn’t go anywhere.  His final words in Matthew: “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).  The absence of Ascension here underscores the message, “I am with you”.  Jesus stood on a hill in Galilee – near where Matthew’s community found themselves.  And Jesus never left.  They could meet him in the story Matthew had written down for them.  They could meet him in community, in one another.  So can we.

  Above all, we can meet Jesus as we follow him – as disciples who disciple in daily stuff, living as though Jesus really is in charge, as though all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him.  Despite how things may appear, and no matter who recognises his authority, Jesus has the last word.