Seeing Jesus from the East

The amazing thing about the gospel of Jesus Christ is that, though it is a story, it is a story that invites tests for truth.

As you walk this journey with us, you will see that Jesus is never simply Eastern or Western, though, but the Savior of the whole world. Children hover around him, yet teachers of the law are spellbound in his presence. His reasoning is global; his stories are local; his visitation is transcendent; his message is personal; and his implications are eternal.

So to Muslims, the story of Islam is a truth claim. Therefore, Islam can and must be tested by its claims.

The play is about Rama and Laxman and Hanuman and Sita, with the bad guy being Ravana, and it is a great battle between good and evil. I never took such narratives to be factual. They were mythological stories meant to teach us to love the values of our culture. So at first blush, my reaction to hearing the gospel was the same; it was just another fanciful tale.

Yet the defining difference between the claims of the biblical text and the texts of other faiths is that, right from the beginning, the writers of the Gospels and the Hebrew Scriptures affirm the Bible’s stories to be fact, true in detail, a compilation of historic events.

I seldom gave any thought to religion or spiritual matters, because I never considered the stories I heard to be historically true.

To this day, I believe that finding meaning and purpose is the fundamental pursuit of life.

A belief can become something you merely hold; a conviction is that which holds you.

In short, Jesus’ story is not a cultural identity story. It is not about what it means to be Indian. It is not about what it means to be in a family, as important as that may be. In its implications and definitions, it is about what it means to be human.

You cannot take Jesus out of the gospel story and still have the gospel. No Jesus, no gospel.

The critic who thinks it is just another story of valor, teaching a lesson but not necessarily offering a true account, has lost sight of the reason for the message.

Gentile! His listeners did not want a universal message.

I am not today an Indian who happens to be a Christian; I am a Christian who happens to be an Indian.

Jesus entered the human scene, not to be a hero, but to show us how valuable we are in his sight.

From the beginning of the Bible’s overarching narrative, it includes the same five voices: the voice of God, the voice of the tempter, the voice of a fellow human being, the voice of the conscience, and the voice of the Savior.

GOD’S VOICE: I give the blueprint; obedience, for your own sake, spells life. SATAN’S VOICE: Disobedience to God will provide autonomy and will not spell death. (This is the ultimate lie.) HUMAN VOICE: I must also involve someone else. (Sin is seldom a victimless crime. It seeks company for the wrong reason.) CONSCIENCE: How do I hide from what I have done? (God speaks from within the human heart as well.) THE SAVIOR: In order to recover what is lost, provision outside of your own capacity is provided.

Behind his stipulation was the issue of whether he holds final authority.

Then the Bible introduces a second voice. Satan’s voice is clearly heard three times in the Bible. Genesis is the first time. It is next heard in Job, and the third time in the temptation of Jesus. What is Satan’s ploy? In Genesis, it is planting doubt in the mind of man about God: “Did God really say?” Doubt energizes unbelief.

Satan specializes in half- truths. The basis of all his temptation is for humans to be like God, not in character, but in authority.

They no longer saw each other as partners but as competitors and objects of gratification or blame.

The message of Jesus is individual, familial, and universal. His message allows no one to boast. Instead, it calls all to come to our heavenly Father.

It is neither Isaac nor Ishmael. It is God’s Son, Jesus, who grants all the grace sufficient to be part of his family.

While I was being shown around once, I was taken to the execution room for those who are under the death penalty. There is a table just outside the execution chamber with chairs around it where the condemned man eats his last meal. When you sit at the table, you face a painting of Daniel in the lions’ den. I was told that the prisoner who painted it wished to express that, even up to the last minute, there is always the hope of deliverance. I looked at the painting and asked, “What if they are not delivered?” The chaplain pointed to another wall with a painting of Elijah riding to heaven on a chariot of fire. “Both were painted by the same artist,” he said. “He wanted every person heading to his execution to face death with the hope that, one way or another, God would deliver him.”

Yeshu also typically stood with marginalized women of his day (see, e.g., John 8: 1– 11), treating them as equals and showing them respect and understanding, a clear departure from the attitudes of his day and, to a lesser degree, the attitudes of the modern day.

Yeshu further encouraged his disciples in Matthew 6 and 7 to seek forgiveness from each other before making offerings to God, and he emphasized humility and service to others out of sight of anyone’s observation.

Of Jewish stock, he maintains that it is impossible to read the gospel of John three times in a row and not be persuaded of Jesus’ extraordinary nature.

To be sure, the Eastern mind also asks the same question, but not because it doubts God’s existence. Rather, like Job, it wishes to probe the mystery of personal pain and individual struggle.

The Hindu scriptures are divided into the Shruti and the Smriti. The first is best described as, “That which was heard,” the second as, “that which was remembered.”

The Bible’s focus, however, is not on the one who received the message— the receptor— but on the one who revealed truth— the Revealer, who is also the Embodiment of God incarnate, the culminating revelation.

Not even a prophet is the revelation. It is God incarnate himself. “In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe” (Hebrews 1: 1–

What we have is the metaphor of language and revelation. But notice the shift— God’s word, and God as Word; God’s light, and God as light; God as the revealer, and God as the revelation; God as the messenger, and God as the message. God is a communicating God, and God is a self- revealing God.

“I am the bread of life” (John 6: 35).• “I am the light of the world” (John 8: 12).• “I am the gate for the sheep” (John 10: 7).• “I am the good shepherd” (John 10: 11).• “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11: 25).• “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14: 6).• “I am the true vine” (John 15: 1).• Then the most staggering claim of all: “Before Abraham was born, I am!” (John 8: 58).

He is the eternal “I Am.” The child was born; the Son is given (Isaiah 9: 6). Yet the Son eternally exists. His coming was not a reincarnation; his coming was the incarnation.

The very ideas of the Logos, the Word— the logic, the concepts— are all connected to reasoning and propositional truth. John offered evidence for Jesus’ authority and authenticity because he wanted the reader not just to believe but to know that Jesus’ claims about himself are true. This is not a gnostic “knowing” available only to the few. It is available to all who seek to know the truth.

There are at least five witnesses in Scripture to validate Jesus’ statements.

The witness of his works.

The witness of his Father.

The witness of the Scriptures.

The witness of the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples

The witness of the sudden boldness of the disciples

What do his claims say about me?• I am living in darkness.• I am destined for death.• I am like a lost sheep looking for my home.• I read about many bad shepherds.• I am merely a branch in search of roots.• I struggle with finding the way; I am often beguiled by a lie; and life simply seems a drudgery one day after the next.• There was a time when I was not; then there was a time when I came to be.

There is a nervousness in India with the word love. In an Eastern home, it is common to hear this statement: “My father has never told me that he loves me.” This does not mean that love is not there. During my entire life before my mother’s death, I never once heard my dad tell my mother he loved her. My sister is married to a former Hindu. When her father- in- law was dying, he experienced a deathbed conversion. At that moment of settling his destiny, he called the family to his side to tell them he had just committed his life to Jesus. Then he asked his wife to come closer, saying to her, “In all the years I have known you, I have never called you my sweetheart, but I want to do that now.”

To a Westerner who sprinkles “honey” into every other sentence as he speaks to his wife, this Eastern cultural characteristic is incomprehensible. Aside from young people who are trying to be more open about how they feel, talk of love in India is mostly confined to the movies, where it is given free rein. This theme of love has played hide- and- seek for a long time in the East. We seek it and then hide it. So to open the Bible and read that God actually loves us is a breathtaking concept that invades an emotionally barricaded culture. Scripture presents a loving Savior who is unafraid to tell us that he loves us and that we can have a loving relationship with our Creator. He defines who he is and sustains his truth claims by evidences that have transcended time.

The first parable is about a lost sheep, the second a lost coin, and the third a lost son. Notice the progression. The lost sheep knows it is lost but does not know the way back, so the shepherd goes looking for it. The lost coin is lost but of course has no awareness that it is lost. The owner of the coin looks all over the house for the lost coin. Then comes the classic story of the lost son. He knows he is lost, and he knows the way back because he is lost by his own will.

Both sons had not been aware that they already possessed the greatest treasure of all— the love of the father. Without it, we are truly lost.

We add layers of appeal, and skeptics can see through it all. Meanwhile, we have ignored people’s personal struggles and authentic needs. Their stories need to be understood, not treated as being of no importance by the simple approach of “receive Jesus and all your troubles will vanish and you will be really happy.” They listen to our logic and mutter to themselves, You have a great message but the wrong audience. To us they say, “You don’t understand me.” We do not just have a message to share; there is another’s story we must understand first. If we don’t, that person will never be able to grasp the beauty of God’s story.

Notice, however, that there is a huge difference between God being with somebody and that person actually being God.

In the gospel of Matthew, the word kingdom is used forty- seven times. In Mark, it is used eighteen times. In Luke, we see it thirty- seven times. John, however, uses the word kingdom a mere five times. Clearly, the focus of John is not so much on the kingdom as it is on the King. As I’ve already stated, “I am” passages and the rule of Jesus within the heart come to the fore in John. This is God establishing his kingdom within my heart. I am not the king. I obey the King.

The story of the gospel is the story of eternal life. My life is unique and will endure eternally in God’s presence. I will never be “no more.” I will never be lost because I will be with the One who saves me. How do I know that? When the women came to the garden tomb looking for Jesus’ body, they were met by an angel, who said, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said” (Matthew 28: 5– 6). There is a world of difference between “he is no more” and “he is not here; he has risen.”

To Western minds, such a predicament may seem like no predicament at all. How can someone agree that a particular worldview is true but not believe in it? one might ask. Indeed, for those awash in the West’s love affair with individualism and personal choice, such a situation seems quite foreign. For the Easterner and Middle Easterner, whose cultures are collectivist and communal, the young Indian man’s plight isn’t so alien. For them, community and family honor underpin and dominate all of life’s pursuits, even the pursuit of truth.

That’s why a thoughtful young man can intellectually assent to the truth of the gospel and yet be terrified at the very idea of embracing it as true. To his credit, he knew that if he embraced the gospel and became a Christian, he would eventually have to live out his faith. That was the problem, of course. If he lost his family’s approval, he would lose himself. If he lost himself, who would he be?

Eastern cultures are collectivistic or communal, which means that each person’s value, dignity, integrity, and very identity are derived from how he or she is perceived by the community. Perpetuating an Eastern community’s traditions, especially its religious traditions, brings honor. Breaking from tradition, especially religious tradition, brings shame. In the East and Middle East, if perceived honor bestows identity on a person, perceived shame robs him of it. Understanding this can teach the West that there is a world of difference between intellectually assenting to a worldview as true and existentially embracing it as your own.

“There is more said in the Bible about shame and honor than about guilt and innocence,” writes Simon Chan. 2 Intuitively, Chan’s statement seems right. Though the Bible has much to say about guilt and innocence, perhaps its shame and honor undertones leap out to me more obviously because of my Middle Eastern heritage, a heritage that emphasizes shame and honor as potent social forces. The Bible, being a Middle Eastern book, would naturally speak to the cultural— and theological— impacts of honor and shame.

In an honor- shame framework, once someone’s misdeeds are made known, it defines who they are as a person.

In an innocence- guilt framework, I would feel guilty because I have “done something bad”; in an honor- shame framework, I’d be guilty because “I am bad” in society’s eyes.

An administrator for a company’s Asian office was questioned because it was unclear whether funds had improperly gone into her account from the American office. It was later discovered to be only an accounting error. So as far as the Americans were concerned, the matter was resolved. The Asian administrator still felt the shame, however, because her integrity had been called into question. When the Americans never apologized for questioning her publicly, she eventually quit.

Honor and shame are such powerful forces that they affect how an Easterner sees himself or herself, even if he or she has done nothing wrong. This is why an Easterner may feel soul- crushing shame for changing their religious allegiance from the family’s traditions, even if the newfound faith is true. They’ve done nothing wrong— except drop a shame bomb into their family’s living room.

Given all of this, one could be tempted to think that the Bible— being written and transmitted primarily to and through an honor- shame culture— subscribes to a morality dictated by cultural norms rather than objective, transcendent truths. Even a casual reading of Scripture debunks such an idea. King David was called a “man after his [God’s] own heart” (1 Samuel 13: 14; Acts 13: 22), yet he committed a horrible act of adultery, followed by a murder to cover it up (see 2 Samuel 11: 1– 27). Through the cover- up, David dodged public shame, the culturally subjective method of moral enforcement. Yet the objective moral reality eventually caught up with the king. While society was unaware of his shameful acts, the Bible says that “the thing that David had done displeased the LORD” (2 Samuel 11: 27 ESV). God revealed David’s sins to Nathan the prophet and sent him to unveil the sin right before the king (see 2 Samuel 12: 1– 14). The publicity of the sin, even though known to only one other person, produced enough shame to stir David’s conscience to bitter repentance. Interestingly, David publicized his own shame and remorse by penning these words to God, the Being who grounds objective morality: “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight” (Psalm 51: 3– 4 ESV, emphasis mine). 6 God had used the scaffolding of an honor- shame framework to cage David’s conscience. This is why the Bible richly speaks to both honor- shame and innocence- guilt cultures. Its stories speak to Eastern minds by paying more than mere lip service to the power of communal honor and shame. It appeals to the Western mind by addressing the inner conscience that helps us see objective right and wrong.

Some came to him wanting to know the truth. Whether there was an audience during their questioning is the first clue about their intent. When someone questioned Jesus privately, it was usually for the purpose of truly learning.

“Public questions were contests. The winner was determined by the audience, who represented the community. If you silenced your opponent, you gained honor and they lost some.”

The Herodians tried to trap Jesus with a catch- 22 political question of loyalty to Rome, intending to cost him his public honor with the people who despised their Roman occupiers or get him executed by those same occupiers for insurrection. The Sadducees tried to make Jesus’ teachings on the resurrection look absurd by asking him who a woman would be married to in the afterlife if she remarried after her first husband died. In both cases, Jesus played the honor game like a master, flipping the attempts to publicly shame him onto his challengers, while giving honor to those in the crowds who needed to hear his message. The Herodians and Sadducees had played the honor game and lost.

What stood out was the disparity of tone between questions asked by those at microphones and those asked by text messages, especially among the Easterners. Several Muslims came up to the microphones and asked important but blunt questions like, “Where in the Bible does Jesus say, ‘I’m God; worship me’?” and “How could God be just if he makes the innocent Jesus pay for my sins by dying on the cross?” One Muslim even asked, “Why would God send a son and not a daughter? In Christianity, if God is Father, why not send a daughter to be fair?” (I wasn’t sure how serious that last question was, but I answered it anyway.) The point is that the questions posed in front of the crowd were blunt and challenging. But another question that came from a Muslim by text message stood out for its contrastingly introspective tone. “I’m a Muslim, and I believe in the existence of God. But still I feel bored and meaningless. Why is that?”

Technology’s anonymity allowed the question to be asked (thank God) and answered.

Jesus replaced a temporary social honor bestowed by hypocrites with the transcendent honor bestowed only by God.

Eastern collectivism dictates that morality is about what’s good for the community and family first. What’s good for the individual comes second.

Like hearsay statements that gain credibility by including shameful details, the Bible’s accounts gain credibility because they depict how God has moved in human history and used real, quite flawed people for his work. In other words, the Bible would have no reason to include such shameful details unless it is telling us how things really happened.

Someone who slinks away from suffering cannot give us honor. Someone who takes on our shame and rises above it is the only one who can satisfy the Eastern soul.

Jesus went to the cross for us, to pay the debt we owe, because he has no debts of his own to pay.

He was both flung outside the gates of the community, carrying away our shame, and killed in our place, paying our debt to God. 15

Compared to the axes and whips Christians in the East and Africa face, Western Christians may suffer metaphorical slaps across the cheek, perhaps the occasional right cross to the jaw. But Western anti- Christian sentiment is increasing.

As Kenneth Bailey points out, the Greek word translated as “blessed” is makarios, and it is not meant to convey a wish for something that has yet to come; rather, makarios affirms “a quality of spirituality that is already present.”

In Mark 10: 29– 30, Jesus similarly tells us that persecution accompanies blessings “in this present age.” Allow me to spotlight here the blessings that come in this life when we willingly suffer for Jesus’ name’s sake. “Christians are never urged to seek suffering; they are, however, encouraged to recognize that suffering is an extraordinary teacher” writes Bailey. 3 What suffering teaches us is that three blessings flow from its tutelage: (1) the blessing of an amplified testimony, (2) the blessing of a fulfilled identity, and (3) the blessing of unshakable faith and strength that never drains away.

I venture to say that it is one thing for a believer to stand firm in the face of self- righteous religious leaders or an unfamiliar cadre of secret police demanding the renunciation of faith. It’s quite another for a believer to stand before a family member.

The sword Jesus referred to, however, is one that divides familial bonds— fathers from sons, mothers from daughters— not one that divides flesh and bone (verse 35).

Jesus understands rejection all too well. As God incarnate, Jesus was rejected by his very creation, which led to the cross. The cross is where Jesus’ testimony about the power and love of God was amplified. As they tortured him to death, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23: 34).

Out of Jesus’ anguish, the gospel message thundered in the ears of those who otherwise would have ignored him as just another religious teacher.

Jesus’ disciples took up his mantle of suffering so that others might hear a message to which they would otherwise be deaf (see Acts 5). The apostle Paul’s life was characterized by physical and emotional suffering resulting from his proclamation of the gospel. Consider Paul’s words, written from a prison cell: “And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear” (Philippians 1: 14 ESV).

What she remembered, and what God used to amplify the gospel’s effect on this young woman, was my willingness to endure pain for the sake of my faith.

What I am saying is that God uses suffering to bless those who suffer with a credibility they might not otherwise have. That credibility reaches out beyond the believer who suffers.

Yet Jesus’ Middle Eastern followers discovered that it was through public shaming that they were given the honor of identifying with the Son of God. Recall also that in Eastern and Middle Eastern contexts, honor and shame are about who you are, not just what you do. That means that removal of shame takes more than mere penance. It takes a new identity. Jesus’ followers were so soaked in the honor of identifying with him that heaps of shame from the authorities resulted not in groans but in rejoicing.

There are times, however, when someone lives out such an oft- quoted passage in a gust of faith that lifts the fog of our familiarity and illuminates a fuller meaning.

James, so the argument goes, seems to teach that salvation and justification before God come primarily by our good works (James 2: 14– 17). Paul, on the other hand, teaches that we are justified by faith alone apart from works (Ephesians 2: 8– 9). The most direct response is that James didn’t teach that we are justified by works. Rather, he taught that “faith without works is dead,” meaning that a living, saving faith would result in good works and that good works are the proof that we have faith (James 2: 18). Paul teaches exactly the same principle (Ephesians 2: 10).

Shepherds knew the sacrifices it took to tend sheep and thus could better understand God’s concern for humanity through that lens.

Good parables, however, beef up an argument’s thrust by making it relatable and mentally sticky. Parables based on sound logic do more than just teach us propositional truths. They employ characters and themes that immerse us into the truths being taught. They force us to ask how we would act in a situation and whether the truth really matters to us.

Salvation in Christianity isn’t about believing the right thing; it’s about trusting the right person to lift us out of the muck of sin.

The fact that the master in the parable (God) invites everyone to his banquet so that his house may be filled shows that God has indeed provided an exclusive means of salvation, but his invitation to accept that salvation is as inclusive as it could be. There will be those who know they need a savior but still reject that savior. There will be others who feel themselves so undeserving of a savior that they hardly believe they’ve been invited into God’s house. God sends his servants to urge such people— to “compel” them— to accept his invitation. They, like so many of us, will come and fill God’s house.

I wonder if Jesus meant to communicate through this parable that the men’s daylong faith was credited to them as daylong work.

Some have said that Jesus’ parable of the workers in the vineyard teaches salvation by good works. Still others object that this teaches something immoral— that those who have lived a life of selfishness and have deathbed conversions are unjustly rewarded as if they lived selfless lives of service to humanity. This parable addresses all of those arguments and supports none of them. Instead, it teaches us that faith— actively trusting God— is rewarded by a God who is worthy of that trust. The men who waited around for work were not using their time on selfish pursuits. They didn’t say, “Oh well, maybe tomorrow,” and then head off to get drunk or carouse with prostitutes. No, they trusted and waited in hope. Jesus teaches us that heaven is not going to be a place of petty jealousies. Instead, we will all be like those workers who were hired last, having no reason to boast in our efforts before a generous God. We are to be grateful, understanding that none of us are deserving of his generosity. Perhaps living in that hope now will make us act less petty on this side of heaven.

The phrase “good Samaritan” is common across a wide spectrum of subcultures, Christian and otherwise. We often hear people refer to someone who stops to give unexpected aid as a good Samaritan. I’ve seen roadside assistance vans traversing the freeways with “Good Samaritan” emblazoned on their side panels. It’s fascinating that we’ve come to associate the word Samaritan with heroism and virtue. In Jesus’ day, however, Samaritans were hated by Jews (and they hated Jews right back), because Samaritans were seen as ethnic half- breeds and religious compromisers. Jesus used that cultural and religious hostility to teach a lesson as rich as a multilayered cake.

Jesus refers to himself as a “greater than”— greater than the temple (verse 6), greater than Jonah (verse 41), and greater than Solomon (verse 42). In effect, Jesus is claiming to be greater than the Sabbath itself and what it represented. These were carefully chosen categories. The temple was the Jewish people’s stronghold and refuge. Solomon had built it and had spoken profound proverbs. Jonah was the messenger to the Gentile nations and had survived three days of what should have been certain death. Jesus here was saying that he was greater and had a greater message than all three.

If the body is a temple in Christian terms, then the wedding is an altar. In Genesis, God, in his creative act, calls everything good. The first time something is not pronounced good happens when he notes that it is not good for man to be alone (Genesis 2: 18). So the woman is created to walk alongside the man in a unique, consummate relationship. This relationship of mutual fulfillment is so exclusive that even God, being spirit, remains outside their physical intimacy. Such a gift to us comes with incredible possibilities and restrictions. The first wedding is officiated by God himself. He is the Minister who makes possible the two becoming one.

C. S. Lewis talks of the four loves: God’s love, protective love, friendship love, and romantic love. 4 Marriage is the only love that binds all four in one.

The first temptation was to compel a demonstration of Jesus’ power so that the world would believe. The second temptation was to compel the Father to prove himself.

True power as he modeled it consisted not in doing what he had the power to do but in choosing to do what he ought to do.

This temptation to ownership is an offer to the eyes for ownership of the heart. If the eyes ruled, the heart would be lost.

Sensuality is not really the temptation here. Instead, as with all temptations, it is the immediate versus the eternal.

Arthur Leonard Griffith shows us the subtle nature of this temptation in God’s Time and Ours: Satan tempts us at the point of our physical needs, not that we might gratify them to excess, but that we might think of nothing else, and satisfy them at the expense of our usefulness in the world. Satan tempts us at the point of our ambitions, not that we might engage in positive evil, but that we might simply accept the fact of evil, learn to live with it, come to terms with it, and maintain a quiet reverence in the presence of it. Satan tempts us at the point of our religion, not that we might disbelieve in God, but that we might demand certainty, that type of certainty of God that leaves nothing to faith, nothing to God himself. 4

Jesus, in the desert, chose to let God be God.

These three young Jewish men would have considered Moses and Elijah to be two of the greatest prophets. One had led the people to the Promised Land; the other had challenged the worship of Baal and won. One dealt with false monarchs, the other with false prophets.

Peter reminds us here of some easily forgotten truths: (1) No experience, however thrilling, has the lasting value that the written Word does; (2) the Scriptures were not invented by human beings— God spoke; and (3) the Trinity is involved in the writing of the Scriptures— they are revealed by the Father, as the biblical authors who wrote them were empowered by the Holy Spirit, to tell the story of the Son’s coming and sacrifice.

The narrative current flowing through Western culture today is that Christianity is an imperialistic religion devised by white males to dominate and control dark- skinned people. Put another way more applicable to the theme of this book, Christianity is characterized as a Western religious tool used to oppress and suppress Easterners. Similarly, there is a strong current that views Christianity as a tool of male domination. In a time when social justice captures society’s focus and the issues of racism, sexism, and oppression make headlines in both the West and the East, it seems impossible to swim against that narrative current. It can be done, but only when we have a fresh perspective of Christianity— or rather a refreshed perspective. We need to recapture the Easternness of Christianity. We need to get a fresh look at Jesus from the East.

If the East is based on communal conformity, the West is based on individualism and countercultural nonconformity.

To say that Westerners have a lock on logic, truth, and discovery is the height of arrogance.

“O woman, great is your faith!” he exclaimed. “Be it done for you as you desire” (verse 28 ESV). 5 Jesus healed her daughter and honored the faith of the Canaanite woman, whose motherly love gave her the courage to breach ethnic and religious barriers. He involved her in the lesson to the crowd. He wasn’t interested in only removing the demon that oppressed the woman’s daughter, but also in exorcising the demon of racism that had oppressed Israel, Canaan, and the entire region.

Suffice it to say for now that as far as the Old Testament’s supposed condoning of slavery, brilliant minds have demonstrated that “slavery” in the Bible is not to be understood in the same sense as modern- day slavery, the Western European slave trade, or the slavery of the antebellum American South. Slavery of that kind may be described in the Bible, but it is nowhere condoned. 6 Rather, what the Bible describes as permissible for ancient Israel was a form of indentured servitude, a voluntary situation that was meant to be temporary until a person’s debt was paid. That’s why, when confronting the much different Roman system, the apostle Paul expressly called chattel slavery a sin (see 1 Timothy 1: 10). Though it didn’t do so perfectly, the early church tried to change hearts to bring about changes in oppressive political systems that violate the uniquely Judeo- Christian belief that all people are created in God’s image (Genesis 1: 26– 27).

In that sense, he redeemed Onesimus, reflecting the way Jesus had redeemed Paul himself (Philemon 17– 21). Paul sought to free Onesimus the slave from economic bondage while simultaneously setting Philemon, the slave owner, free from his immoral chains. It worked. In a later letter, we learn that Paul sent Onesimus to Colossae with Tychicus to give everyone there an update on how the gospel was spreading. “I have sent him [Tychicus] to you for this very purpose, that you may know how we are and that he may encourage your hearts,” Paul writes, “and with him Onesimus, our faithful and beloved brother, who is one of you” (Colossians 4: 8– 9 ESV, emphasis mine). Onesimus, the runaway slave, returned to Colossae as an equal.

I have often wondered why the New Testament book of Philemon, a short personal letter in which Paul is simply trying to settle a dispute between two people, swells the pages of Holy Writ’s sweeping saga. Perhaps it’s because this little letter demonstrates that mere propositional belief doesn’t bring about change unless it is put into action.

The Bible counts women among the prophets who spoke for God, specifically identifying five and alluding to many more not specifically listed (Exodus 15:20; Judges 4–5; 2 Kings 22:14; Nehemiah 6:14; Isaiah 8:3; Luke 2:36; Acts 21:9).