Jesus, Jews, and Palestinians
One of the most distinctive, mind-opening, life-changing aspects of Christianity is too often overlooked: the irreducibly “inter-religious,” cross-cultural character of the life Jesus calls his followers to live.
How so? Here’s “Exhibit A”: When Christians sit in a church and look at a crucifix, or admire a stained glass window of Jesus feeding the five thousand, or gaze up at a painting of the Transfiguration in a cathedral dome, we behold the faith’s founding figure, the person we seek to follow as Christians. That is, we Christians behold — a Jew.
Exhibit B: When Christians open the library of the Bible and read from its pages, for virtually every one of us, we read those words in translation: a cross-linguistic, cross-cultural recasting from the original text’s Hebrew or Greek. And in particular, when we read the words of Jesus, we’re reading a translation of a translation: first from Aramaic, the language Jesus likely spoke, into the ancient Greek of the New Testament, and then into modern English (or French, or Swahili, or whatever).
The Jewish Bible was originally written in the Hebrew in which many Jews still read it today; likewise for the Quran, originally written and now often read in Arabic. But when it comes to the Christian Bible generally, and the words of Jesus in particular, the message received is irreducibly, unavoidably translated from another language (or two). In that sense, it always arrives “from the outside.”
And what about those words of Jesus? What message does he deliver?
Well, that’s Exhibit C: As if to drive the larger point home, Jesus frequently engages in what today we’d call “cross-cultural” or “cross-religious” thinking and living, in effect dissolving the sectarian boundaries we use to justify our various forms of prejudice and self-congratulation. Want to follow the Jewish law? he asks. Follow the example of this Samaritan — a member of a group then considered adversaries by many of Jesus’ Jewish audience, including his own disciples in the chapter just before he delivers that famous parable (Luke 9). And please note: the point of that story is conspicuously not to convert the Samaritan, but rather to follow his lead.
Exhibit D: At the outset of the New Testament, in the Gospel of Matthew, who first recognizes the baby Jesus for who he is? Not the nearby insiders, but rather three outsiders from afar, “Magi” from an entirely different culture and religion (perhaps Zoroastrians from Persia (present-day Iran)).
Exhibit E: And if that’s how the Gospels begin, in what “direction” do they and the letters of Paul finally point? Not inward to any specific sect, but rather outward to all people of all backgrounds and traditions, Jews as well as Gentiles (that is, everyone!).
In sum, Christians can only listen to Jesus by listening across cultures, across languages, across religions — and sure enough, what Jesus actually says and does encourages us to do exactly that, following the lead not so much of “Christians” (the disciples, after all, are typically inept!) but rather Zoroastrians and Samaritans and Jews and, by extension, any number of others. Taking this situation seriously means taking up a wide open, willing-to-learn state of mind: attentively turned outward, listening keenly for the wisdom of others, including those with whom we may fiercely disagree.
From this angle, Christian chauvinism isn’t just morally repugnant; it’s a theological contradiction in terms. Christianity itself arises in the first place out of an indelibly multicultural, multi-religious brew, and fittingly enough, as Jesus would have it, it arises (ideally!) as a humble, outward-oriented inclination to respect and admire and learn across sectarian boundaries.
All of which brings us to the current war in Israel and Gaza. Should Christians think of Jesus as Jewish? Of course — and this may help us identify and empathize with present-day Jews in Israel who seek peace, security, and a thriving future for their children. Should we think of Jesus as Palestinian? Of course — remembering that the name “Palestinian” has long referred to Muslims, Jews, and others who have lived in that part of the world for generations; and this may help us identify and empathize with present-day Palestinians in Gaza who seek peace, security, and a thriving future for their children.
In the end, what’s ruled out is any demonization or categorical contempt, even as we may unequivocally condemn specific actions. Christian anti-Judaism is effectively a rejection of Jesus, for Jesus, too, was a Jew. Christian anti-Palestinian sentiment is likewise a rejection of Jesus, for Jesus, too, was effectively a “Palestinian.” And on an even deeper level, Jesus the Palestinian Jew was a teacher who called us — and calls us again today — to help build bridges across ethnic, cultural, and religious divides. Not only because Jesus said we should do so, but also because we can’t even listen to Jesus in the first place without doing so in the very act of our listening.
Jesus: the Jewish prophet and rabbi from halfway ‘round the world, who calls us (drawing on Jewish scripture) to welcome the stranger and learn from the alleged outsider.
Jesus: the Palestinian peasant in a time of conflict, the infant refugee from military violence (the “slaughter of the innocents”), who nevertheless goes on to say, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Jesus: the Child of God who calls us to do likewise, again and again, to reach across lines of enmity, suspicion, and recrimination; to help end the world’s apparently endless cycles of vengeance; and to highlight and harness religion’s life-giving, reconciling capacities precisely in order to counter its death-dealing, divisive ones.
Jesus is a Jew. Jesus is a Palestinian. Jesus calls us to take up solidarity with all of God’s children, demonizing no-one, helping to build a new world of shalom and salām.