Please note that due to the software, not everything recorded in this transcript will be accurate

QUESTION ANSWER XV

Media – Hiroo Onada dies

John Dickson (Studio)

That’s a clip from the BBC, commemorating the death of former Japanese Army second lieutenant Hiroo Onoda in 2014. The clip includes some amazing footage of the moment Hiroo finally surrenders—there is a link in the show notes if you want to check it out. Unlike other units of the Japanese Army in WWII, Hiroo’s was given special instructions: ‘Stay alive, whatever the cost’. For him, that cost was nearly three decades of unnecessary service. In his 1999 memoir No Surrender: My Thirty-Year War, Hiroo admitted that, during his time in the jungle, he was so fixed in his ideas that he was “unable to understand anything that did not conform to them”. That sounds like an accusation sometimes lobbed (like a grenade) at the church. But … similar to Hiroo, some faithful Christians are convinced they must follow God’s laws in the Old Testament, which are their original instructions. A small but growing number of believers – sometimes called Torah-observant Christians, in reference to the first five books of the Bible – believe they should follow all 613 of these laws  …. including the weird ones! A recent article by Christianity Today summarised their beliefs: The Torah is God’s Word for God’s people. Baptised Gentiles are members of God’s people; therefore, they ought to obey these commands. Now, most Christians don’t hold to all the laws in the Torah. But a Torah-observant Christian might ask, “Why not? What’s changed?” In fact, members of the Undeceptions team have Christian family members who are Torah-observant. ​​So – what does the Bible actually say? Am I sinning when I wear my leather jacket over a cotton t-shirt? As a Christian, am I forbidden from eating bacon? Or are Torah-observant Christians similar to Hiroo, fighting a spiritual battle that’s already over? We’ve had guests touch on this before – but now it’s my turn.
I’m John Dickson, and welcome to our fifteenth Undeceptions Q&A.

Producer Kaley (Studio)

Hey – Producer Kaley here. Director Mark and I are taking over to put some of your questions to John. And our first question comes from Kev, who refers to the Hebrew Roots Movement – a group of Christians who advocate for Torah observance. Here’s Director Mark with Kev’s question.

Question 1

I’m curious to hear John’s thoughts about the Hebrew Roots Movement as taught by groups such as 119 Ministries and Seed of Abraham Ministries. These groups emphasise that Christians should follow and adhere to the Torah and the Law of Moses as given to early Israel. Others dispute those teachings, saying that the Gospel and Christ’s sacrifice for our sins have made the Law obsolete. I’ve been listening to the Undeceptions Podcast for several months now, and I greatly appreciate John’s insight on Christian doctrine. I would love to hear an Undeceptions deep-dive into this topic. Thanks for all you do. Keep up the good work!

John Dickson (Studio)

Thanks, Kev. I have to say I haven’t heard of those particular groups you mentioned, but I do know the general view you’re talking about, and as I said earlier, I even have a friend of a friend who really takes this stuff seriously. There are loads of questions I’d want to ask people who think Christians today should be following all 619 laws of the Old Testament. For instance, do they enforce the death penalty in their communities? I mean, really, I suspect we’d have heard about it if they did. What about all those laws concerning the temple? Those are actually impossible to obey because there is no temple. So straightaway, there are dozens and dozens of rituals and sacrifices and laws that just can’t be done. At the very least, then the position has to be inconsistent. Some things will apply, and some things don’t. Interestingly, Orthodox Judaism itself had to face this problem. When the temple was destroyed in AD 70 by the Romans, huge parts of the law became impossible to keep. The Pharisees came up with an answer that became the foundation of classical Judaism. Jews, they said, could maintain temple-level purity by following the oral traditions of the Pharisees, which went well beyond the written laws of Moses. But that explanation obviously isn’t going to work for Christians who wanna obey the Old Testament. So right there, I think, is a deal breaker for anyone claiming that all of the Old Testament laws are still binding for followers of Jesus. Then there’s the historical side of things. Ancient Jews already recognised a distinction between full Jews, including converts to Judaism, and what they called righteous gentiles. These were non-Jews who practised monotheism, avoided idolatry and murder, and lived basically moral lives, and they were considered acceptable to the God of Israel without adopting all of the laws given to Israel. So even before Christianity, Jews didn’t think their entire law applied to Gentiles. Christianity took that idea and expanded it. It insisted that Gentiles could be acceptable to God, not by keeping Israel’s laws, but by trusting in the Messiah Jesus and following his ways. If you want to dig into this, Terrance Donaldson’s Paul and the Gentiles, especially chapter three, gives a brilliant overview of this historical idea of the righteous Gentile in ancient Judaism. Now, the theological bit. From the very beginning of Christianity, in our earliest texts, the letters of Paul, it’s crystal clear that Gentiles could become righteous without becoming Jews. They didn’t need to practice Sabbath keeping, food laws, or circumcision. They became righteous Gentiles through faith in the Messiah, in his life and teaching and death and resurrection. The word Paul uses is ‘justified’, and that’s really just the verb of the term righteous. And he says that these Gentiles become righteous through faith, apart from the law. Here’s just a smattering. Romans 3: We maintain that a person is justified by faith apart from works of the law, or is God the God of Jews only? Is he not God of Gentiles too? Yes, of Gentiles too. Since there is only one God who will justify the circumcised by faith and the uncircumcised through that same faith.” Or Galatians 3: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed and heirs according to the promise.” All of that, and there are tons more passages I could cite, goes back to Jesus Himself, who on more than one occasion declared that a Gentile, someone outside the Jewish traditions, could show greater faith in God than many within Israel. The classic is Matthew chapter eight. “Truly, I tell you, Jesus said, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith.” The thing is, in that passage, he’s talking about a centurion, a Roman centurion. He goes on, “I say to you that many will come from the east and the west and will take their place at the feast with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven.” Now, I know this is turning into a whole episode rather than a short answer. Sorry about that, Kev. But one last thing. None of this is about Jesus or the apostles picking and choosing which parts of the Old Testament they liked and which they didn’t. From the beginning, Christians saw Jesus as the fulfilment of Jeremiah 31’s promise of a new covenant that Jeremiah said “Will not be like the covenant Israel broke”. Christians still believe that the whole Old Testament is God’s word, but that doesn’t mean every part of it is to be directly followed. We read the Old Testament through what I like to call the prism of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. I’m sure I must have said this before on the pod, but think back to high school physics. When white light passes through a prism, it refracts. It shows itself in the full spectrum of colours. The perfect image of that, of course, is Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, album cover. Truly awesome, and I’m sure Al will put it in the show notes or something like that. Right. Okay. Big thumbs up. What it is is a single white beam hitting this triangular prism and bursting out the other side in red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and vilot. That is how Christians viewed the Old Testament through the prism of Christ. Like that light, the truth of the Old Testament passes through Jesus … and refracts. Some parts are barely changed, like caring for the poor. That’s the same in the old and the new covenant. Telling the truth. That’s the same. Some other laws are intensified. So, love your neighbour in the Old Testament becomes, in the New Testament, love your enemy. And some of the laws are refracted beyond recognition, like circumcision, food laws, animal sacrifices, theocracy, and death penalties. This isn’t a conjuring trick, so we can pick and choose what we like. It’s the way Jesus and the apostles themselves taught us to read scripture. It’s built into the very idea of two covenants. And finally, just to be clear. I think it’s perfectly fine for Christians from Jewish backgrounds to continue observing Jewish traditions as symbols that point to the new covenant. Of course, they can’t fulfil every commandment. So many depend on living in the land with a temple still standing, but circumcision, food laws, and Sabbath keeping … these can all be meaningful practices so long as they’re not treated as the way to become righteous; that way is and always has been faith in Israel’s Messiah for Jew and Gentile alike. Sorry again, Kev, for turning your question into a mini episode. I’ll try to make my next few answers as brief as that one was long. You should see Producer Kaley’s face here as I go on and on and on.

Producer Kaley (Studio)

This next question comes from another John! It touches on some of the themes we discussed in episode 160, ‘Deep Learning’ – which was all about who we learn from, how we learn from them and why learning is important to the Christian faith.

Question 2

“I have a question about the recent episode, ‘Deep Learning’, which I found wonderful, as many of your episodes are. But what does this mean for the “ordinary man on the street”? I have many, especially male friends, who never read a book. They may read a newspaper or a journal about motorcycling or football. But reading a book is foreign to them. I always tell them that that is a pity, but I don’t seem to be successful in encouraging them to read. Hearing all about C.S. Lewis saying that you should read an old book from tradition before you start reading the new books, just sounds miles away from what many people today do, or as it were, do not do. There’s a danger that the very right and understandable and absolutely correct emphasis on education by Christians can develop into an intellectualism that is very far removed from some members of the church. So I was wondering whether you could say something about this, and also perhaps have some recommendations of books for non-reading males. What book would you recommend for a 50-year-old male who hasn’t read a book in the last 20 years. And may I add I’m from Switzerland, people speak German here, so there would have to be at least a German translation. Greetings!

John Dickson (Studio)

John. Oh man, that’s a hard one to answer quickly, but I’m gonna fulfil my promise so I don’t get the death stare from Kaley. Christianity is intellectual. It demands understanding concepts, and it’s a very bookish religion. As I might’ve said before, Australia’s greatest Roman historian, Professor Edwin Judge, once argued that ancient Pagans would’ve looked on at the church of the first centuries and thought it was more like a school than any kind of religion they’d come across. By about the year 200 churches were already asking would be converts to attend three years of one hour classes before church, so the faith could be properly passed on. Only then would they baptise the person. Now, I’m not suggesting we should reintroduce that system, but it’s worth remembering how profoundly intellectual Christianity was from the start. Let’s not be embarrassed about that. But secondly, the New Testament itself does warn against being overly intellectual or perhaps better, merely intellectual. It was the Apostle Paul in one Corinthians eight who said, knowledge puffs up, but love. Builds up. We always need that corrective. Christianity is fundamentally relational, and I really do believe that those who are cognitively impaired can simply by knowing the story of Jesus, find themselves trusting him just as they might instinctively love their caregiver. Thirdly, the fact that there are adults, men, but also women who don’t read books. Is a genuine tragedy of our culture. I could say a lot about that, but I’ll leave it there. Fourthly, my big recommendation for non-readers is the Oxford Very Short Introduction series. They’re up to about 500 volumes now, covering every imaginable topic. These are really short books, about 140 pages, where an expert guides us non-experts through the field, whether the Mongol Empire, the Reformation, mathematics, the French Revolution, the life of Jesus, the life of Paul, and hundreds more. The great thing is that many of them are available as audiobooks, usually three to five hours long, so you can go for two long walks and suddenly know everything you’ve ever wanted to know about the Mongol Empire. It’s something I’ve actually done myself, and it’s awesome. And here’s a little secret that you mustn’t pass on to anyone else. Undecepitons has signed a deal with a big publisher to produce a new series of even smaller books, exactly 100 pages. That’s the title of the series, actually, 100 pages on every imaginable topic for doubters who want to know how Christianity understands the world. I’ll keep you posted. Finally, if you want a really simple introduction to the Christian faith for the non-reader, you can’t go past the book written by my best mate of 40 years, Ben Shaw. The book’s called Seven Reasons to Reconsider Christianity. It’s Fab.

Director Mark (Studio)

This next question comes from Kyle, and it’s an audio question. If you’d like to hear your question on the show, go to the website and scroll down to the big, orange ‘start recording’ button for your chance to be featured. Here’s Kyle.

Question 3

Do you think Christians are allowed to lament met like the Old Testament laments? Given that we are now on the other side of this and the resurrection, are we allowed to lament like those who did not have that? Or do you think the New Testament has different guidance on that? I would love to know your thoughts.

John Dickson (Studio)

Kyle. Thanks. Awesome question. Short answer, yes, absolutely. Christians can and should lament just as the Old Testament people did. First, the Book of Psalms, which is full of complaining prayers to God, is a book for Christians just as much as it was a book for Jews. We know this for both theological and historical reasons. On two occasions, the Apostle Paul urged congregations to “Sing Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs”. Check out Colossians 3 and Ephesians 5. Now, I know those verses are often interpreted today as meaning that we’re meant to sing Chris Tomlin songs or Keith Getty hymns or something like that. But originally Paul was talking about the Psalms themselves and those three words that Paul uses, Psalms, hymns, and songs, are the very terms used in the Book of Psalms to describe the different kinds of compositions. And historically, that’s exactly how the early Christians understood it. They continued to pray and sing the Psalms as part of their worship, just as the Jewish people had done for centuries. My point is, all of those biblical laments are there for us. Of course, Christians pray them knowing the full story, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. So we know how everything ends up in the kingdom of God. But actually, ancient Jews also believed that God would ultimately reign supreme in his kingdom through the Messiah. So there isn’t a huge cognitive difference between us. Both they and we share in a world where we have hope, but we still have a lot to complain about. Secondly, beyond the fact that the Psalms are Christian scripture as well as Jewish scripture, it’s worth remembering that Jesus himself on the cross cried out one of the greatest lament Psalms, Psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” This wasn’t Jesus doubting his role or anything like that. It was a direct quotation of the famous lament psalm. It was his way of identifying with the suffering of the righteous. And then there’s the Apostle Paul in Romans 8 where he says that “the whole creation groans”. That’s his word. And then he adds that “we ourselves groan inwardly while we wait”. And right there, you have a full biblical endorsement of lament. Groaning. And the Psalms give us words for that groaning. So yes, Christians are absolutely allowed to lament, to bring their pain, confusion, doubt, and frustration honestly, before God, ’cause that’s exactly what the faithful have always done.

Reading

You know, on second thought, maybe there is a giant patriarchal God who tortures people in a literal hell forever for not assenting to a specific understanding of reality that he also actively kept them from understanding to prove that he is just/powerful/merciful/etc.
Aside from the hint of snark, this tweet is meant to be disturbing in a productive sense. This is truly the underpinning of much of orthodox Christian beliefs, even though it can be nuanced and covered over with many beautiful doctrines. I used to begrudgingly believe this…
Begrudgingly, because it never sat well with me, but because I believed scripture was inerrant, I felt that I must just be missing something, but it pained me, and I would force it to the back of my mind, hoping I was wrong. I know that’s how many Christians feel…

John Dickson (Studio)

That was Director Mark reading out a series of Tweets by Dustin Kensrue, a former worship leader of the now-defunct Mars Hill megachurch, and also frontman of the rock band Thrice. Kensrue has written some modern worship music anthems, like Grace Alone and Rejoice. However, at the end of the last decade, he began publicly deconstructing his theology, including his views on Hell and God’s character. Sadly, Dustin received a barrage of vitriolic responses from many of his Christian fans who had looked up to him as a “cool theological rocker”. I certainly don’t agree with Dustin’s premise—go check out our episode on Hell (147) to hear more of my thoughts. But Dustin’s situation—a public Christian rethinking ideas about hell and judgment—is similar to that of our next questioner. Here’s producer Kaley with the question.

Producer Kaley:

I am 62 a 62-year-old male and have been a Christian almost all of my life. I attended bible college and am a certified minister in my denomination. About a year and a half ago, I feel like my faith collapsed completely. I have continued to fake my belief around my wife, friends and family, because I have no wish to hurt them or cause them to question their beliefs. My issue with God started when I asked myself why God would create humans, knowing that the majority of them would reject him. Why would God allow the majority to end up in torment in hell? (If I accept the veracity of the Bible, then hell is a real place). I really struggle with a God who allows a vast majority of people to spend eternity there. I know the accepted Christian answer is that Jesus died and rose again to save us from hell. Why, then, are so few people taking advantage of salvation? How did evil begin to exist in the first place? How did it come into being if everything that exists proceeded from a perfect God? This is a huge stumbling block for me right now. CS Lewis has some great thoughts on free will, but doesn’t explain why or how evil began. Finally, looking at history and our current world, it would seem to appear that evil wins in the end (as far as the fate of humanity is concerned). Only the chosen few are elected for salvation (I’m not just arguing against Calvinists here; the end is the same, regardless of belief). Why would an omniscient God create an entire species destined for eternal torment? I know there are differences in Christianity about what happens to the lost, but the Bible seems pretty clear on the absolute badness of hell and who will end up there. I cannot, in good conscience, accept annihilationism.  So rather than accepting this mean anti-human view of God, I just began to accept the idea that the god I have believed in cannot be real. Thoughts?

John Dickson (Studio)

Hey, can I first say thank you so much for your honesty? This must be heartbreaking. There is hardly anything more exhausting than having to be one thing in public and another thing in your private thoughts. I can’t give a complete answer to your question here in the show, but if you are still a listener, please reach out to us. My team will put you directly in touch with me. This deserves an extended conversation. Now, I can’t tell from your question whether you’ve listened to our episode on Hell. Not everyone liked it. We got some pushback from both conservative and less conservative sides, but I still stand by it. It’s my best attempt to articulate what the Bible means by hell against exactly the backdrop you’ve described. How on earth could a good God send anyone there, let alone create billions of people, when, according to some views, most are gonna end up there in torment? I think the first and most important step in facing deep doubt like this is to begin with the biggest stuff. Before drilling into the specific question, we have to ask, do I still believe that the big truths are true? Let me take a completely different example and then apply it to this context. Some people wonder whether Luke made a historical mistake in dating Jesus’ birth to the census under Quirinius. In chapter two of Luke, they let that small issue pry open the much bigger questions: the existence of God, the resurrection of Jesus, as though the little detail can topple the larger truths. But I think it should go the other way around. If we find ourselves convinced that God exists and that Christ really rose from the dead. Those truths should control how we approach all of the other puzzles. In that particular case, we can place the unresolved things in the, ‘there must be an explanation, even if, I dunno what it is’, basket. Now your particular question is much bigger than the Quirinius example, but the principle still holds. If I’m convinced that God exists and that he entered the world in Jesus, then whatever else seems difficult or even distressing has to be seen in the light of that, not dismissed, but relativised. So instead of letting the horror of hell conquer my more basic belief in God and Christ, I ask, is there any way to imagine how the doctrine of hell could possibly accord with the God revealed in Jesus? That’s why I’m such a big believer in thought experiments; they help us approach the hard and uncertain things in light of the really solid things. They let us explore whether there’s any imaginable scenario that could fit with the character of the God who raised Jesus from the dead. So in the episode on Hell, for example, I wondered aloud whether the horror of Hell is only a horror relative to the unimaginable joy of God’s kingdom. What if those in hell actually experience the goodness of continued existence and are, in some mysterious way, even thankful for it? They might be conscious of their penalty, aware that they’re not permitted to enter the ecstasy of Christ’s presence, yet still able to affirm that God is good and that his justice toward them is good. Now, to be clear, as I hope I was clear in that episode, I’m not saying that’s exactly how it’ll be. My point is that if even a scenario like that is possible, it softens the idea that God is vindictive or cruel. And if I, with my little brain, can imagine something that makes sense of it all, then surely the absolute truth, the way things actually are, will be even more wonderful because God’s wisdom is infinitely greater than mine. So. Just a thought experiment. What if there are far fewer people in hell than we’ve ever imagined? Would that shift how you feel? Or what if, even if there are many in hell, they are somehow thankful for the simple goodness of existence that they experience, even though they know it’s not the bliss of glory? Would that make a difference? My point is this: start with the reality of God as revealed in Christ, and then work backwards from there using every imaginative resource you have. And even if none of those scenarios fully satisfy you, remind yourself that whatever the true scenario is, it will be better ’cause it will be consistent with the God who revealed himself in Jesus Christ. Much, much more could be said on this, but I hope this at least gives you one fruitful avenue of thought, and I really do mean it. Please reach out.

Question 5

Why did the first-century church look so different to the modern American church?

John Dickson (studio):

Well, that’s short and sweet, so I’ll try and be short and sweet back. I’ll try. We actually know very little about the exact forms of church in the first century or two. By about the fifth, sixth centuries, we start to have a clearer picture, the kinds of sermons that were preached, the words set around communion or the Lord’s Supper, the leadership roles that are developed, and the prayers that they said together in addition to the Lord’s Prayer, which they always used.

Now, that’s worth keeping in mind because there’s a lot of exaggeration. Especially on social media as you’d expect about how all the accumulated traditions found in the Catholic and Orthodox churches today go right back to the apostles. The historian in me just can’t buy that. I understand it as a theological statement that these traditions are consistent with the time and teaching of Jesus, but historically, that’s not what the evidence shows from the first century or two. So what do we know about this earliest period? I actually walked through the evidence up to about AD 200  in a series of tweets recently, and we’ll link it in the show notes. But here’s a quick version. Here’s the New Testament evidence. So middle of the first century from passages like 1 Corinthians 11, 1 Corinthians 14, Colossians 3, and we’ll list all the passages. What we basically learn about the early church gathering is just this. They did prayers and exhortations like sermons, that sort of thing. Hymns and scripture readings a collection for the poor and a shared sacred meal around remembering Jesus’ death, what we now call communion. Okay, now let’s go outta the New Testament into the 90s AD. So still the first century, but we’re right at the end of the first century. A document called the Didachye. It’s one of our earliest Christian documents outside the New Testament, and it mentions for church services, prayer, a fellowship meal, public exhortations, and possibly sung Thanksgivings. Alright, let’s dip over into the second century. We’ve got Ignatius of Antioch. He left us a whole bunch of letters. Awesome stuff from about AD 110 Ignatius, who ended up being martyred in Rome for his trouble, describes early church services just in passing. And he says that they have a Thanksgiving meal that embodied Jesus’ suffering – that’s clearly communion – along with hearing from the prophets and the gospels. Maybe a reference to the read New Testament. Maybe it was just reciting it from memory. Not a hundred per cent sure, and also some congregational praises. Alright, let’s go to a non-Christian text from 112 AD. This is Pliny, the Roman governor, writing to Emperor Trajan, and he just reports two things that go on in church services. He reports that they met before dawn for the church service and they sang hymns, he says, back and forth to each other and then had a shared meal. So not much information, but it sort of chimes with what we already had. The very best, clearest description of a church service comes from Justin Martyr. It’s about AD 150, and he lists in a couple of paragraphs what would go on in a church service. It’s excellent, but it also chimes with what we’ve already seen. He says that there are readings from the Old and New Testaments. That early. It’s amazing. Then they would all listen to a public exhortation from some office holder, a preacher of some kind. They shared the kiss of peace. They joined in a liturgical meal of bread and wine, offered public prayers and Thanksgivings, some of which may have been sung, and then they took up a collection for the poor, the sick, and the enslaved h e says, again, we’ll put the details in the show notes. Finally, around the year 200, we’ve got Hippolytus of Rome, and he writes in his book, Apostolic Tradition, that there is a little bit of structure. He actually tells us there was teaching or catechism before the church service for a whole hour, and then he indicates there were communal prayers, a full liturgical meal, and, of course, gifts for the poor. Alright, so that’s all the evidence we have up to the year 200, and we know where it all happened in people’s homes. Both the New Testament and archeology confirmed that the earliest dedicated church building we find in Megedo, Israel, was actually just a converted villa dating around AD 230. So all we can say for sure about the early church, and this is where it’s worth comparing to say, a modern American church – all we can say for sure is that by about AD 200 Christians met mostly in homes to sing songs, Listen to the Old and New Testament, listen to an exhortation from a leader, pray together, collect money for the poor, and share a meal celebrating Jesus’ death. Here’s my rule of thumb. Any church that basically follows that pattern, whatever its denomination, and however many extra traditions it’s added or subtracted, has an organic link to the very first churches.

Director Mark

We’ll be back in a minute.

Media – The Rest is History

Producer Kaley:

That was Tom Holland and Dominic Sandbrook on The Rest is History podcast, talking about the historicity of the Nativity story. A common issue people have with that story is that, according to Luke’s Gospel, the Romans required Joseph and Mary to go to Bethlehem for a census even though they lived in Nazareth. We’ve covered the historicity of this census before on Undeceptions—check out episode 25, ‘Bible Mistakes,’ with Craig Blomberg, and episode 154, ‘Boy Jesus,’ with Joan Taylor. But as our next questioner asks, the reason why they had to return still feels unclear.

Question 6 

I am a fairly new listener of the undeceptions podcast from South Africa, and have a question that I am really wrestling with as it affects the authenticity of Luke. I realise that in the first Noel episode that re-aired in December 2022, John talks about the contradiction of the census that forced Joseph and Mary to go to Bethlehem. It is mentioned that it was a census that happened during the time of Quirinius, who was not the governor at the time, according to historical records. My problem with this is, why did  Mary and Joseph have to go to their hometown to be counted for a census in the first place? Surely, they could have stayed in Nazareth. I don’t know of any records that the Romans constructed their census in this way, forcing people to move across the country. I am finding no clarity on this matter, and it has caused me to question my faith in Jesus because of this flaw in Luke. 

John Dickson (Studio):

I’m actually glad for the chance to revisit this question of Luke and the census, so thanks for the question. It’s one of the classic historical puzzles that has caused a lot of people doubt for. Many years. Let me start by reminding you of my broad approach to this kind of issue. I reckon that if you’ve come to believe that God exists and that he has revealed himself in Jesus Christ, who lived, died, and rose again, if you’re pretty solid on that, then that conviction should be the rock you stand on. The controlling principle for all of the smaller doubts that come along. Even if Luke had made an error here, it would only challenge a particular view of scripture. It wouldn’t undermine the existence of God or the resurrection of Christ. And if those big-ticket truths are firm, then it’s perfectly reasonable to trust Luke the way you’d trust a reliable friend. If someone accuses your friend of falsehood, you don’t immediately assume the worst. You admit, you don’t yet understand the accusation, but you give your friend the benefit of the doubt. That’s a natural thing to do when you’ve grown to trust the larger complex of that relationship. We don’t need to rush in with flimsy apologetics to save face for Luke. That’s never helpful, but it’s entirely rational to say. There must be an explanation we just don’t know yet. After all, it would only take the random discovery of one ancient document describing a census around 6 or 5 BC to make all of us feel rather silly for doubting Luke. That’s the broad principle. Now to your specific concern. The main historical objection has always been that Quirinius was governor of Syria in AD 6, not 10 or so years earlier when Jesus was born. So people say Luke simply made a silly mistake placing Jesus’ birth during a census that didn’t happen yet. But notice Luke’s wording. He says, “This was the first census”, clearly implying that he knows of another one, probably the more famous one in AD 6, which we all know about, and which in fact launched a Jewish revolt. Given that only about 1 per cent of our written evidence from the first century survives in our hands today. I think Luke deserves the historical benefit of the doubt about an earlier census. It’s entirely plausible that he knew of another one, and we’ve just lost track of it. Now you raise a slightly different issue. Why would Mary and Joseph have to travel from Nazareth up in the north, way down to Bethlehem in Judea in the first place? It sounds unrealistic. Many scholars have said this is a pious fiction, a narrative device to ‘get’ Jesus, the son of David, born in David’s hometown. But this is where a brilliant new piece of research comes in. Sabine Huebner, professor of ancient history at the University of Basel, has recently published a major study with Cambridge University Press called Papyri and the Social World of the New Testament. She has gone through thousands of mundane Roman and Egyptian papyri, political, financial, and bureaucratic documents, and uncovered evidence that might change the whole discussion. First, she shows that the Romans used censuses far more often than we used to think for both financial purposes and political purposes. In fact, we have actual registration forms from Egypt listing people who go for the census. They list their names, their ages, their land holdings, and even physical descriptions of those being registered. Like I read one earlier today just to double check this, and the person actually gives their name and age and everything and then says, ‘with a scar across the right eye’. Or, another woman says that ‘she has a big scar on her thumb’. That’s the kind of detail that Romans wanted back in their archives in Rome. Hubner demonstrates that it’s entirely plausible that Augustus ordered a census of Herod’s client Kingdom of Judea, particularly between 8 and 6 BC – the very period when Herod had fallen outta favour with the emperor, Augustus may have used a census to flex his authority over the region. Huebner even provides concrete evidence of a Roman-style census in another client kingdom around the same time, which makes Luke’s story historically realistic. And here’s where it gets exciting. She has shown from those papyri that people sometimes did have to return to the place where they owned property in order to register. It’s quite possible that Joseph was a temporary worker or semi-temporary worker up in Nazareth, but still had family property down in Judea, which made Bethlehem the proper place for him to register. Now that means our usual image of Mary and Joseph as complete outsiders to Bethlehem, turned away and forced to lay a baby in a manger, might not be quite right. It could just be that their family home was overflowing with relatives there for the same reason, and the animal feeding area was just the quiet, practical spot for the baby. Huebner also points out that in 6 BC the formal governor of Syria was not Quirinius, but Sentius Saturninus. However, Luke doesn’t actually say Quirinius was the governor. The Greek phrase suggests he was administering or overseeing the census, acting as a kind of financial procurator to use the Roman terms, and Luke’s wording precisely matches known administrative language for that kind of role. Finally, Huebner notes that Luke wrote his gospel while Roman censuses were still happening. His readers knew exactly how they worked. If he had invented the story, surely he’d have made it sound plausible to his ancient readers, not created something his readers would instantly find bizarre. She also highlights that two early Christian writers, Justin Martyr and Tertullian, both claimed that the Roman archives contained the census records of Jesus’ family. That’s a bold claim, easily disproven if false. Now, Huwbner isn’t saying those writers prove Luke’s story, but she notes that they, living in the Roman world and knowing its bureaucracy firsthand, saw no historical problem with Luke’s account of things. Her conclusion is beautifully balanced. She writes:

“I am not arguing that Luke’s report of the journey made by Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem corresponds to historical facts, only that if it is fictional, it is at least a story that could be true, since the author of the Gospel of Luke knows and respects the historical circumstances of the time in which he places the birth of Jesus. His depiction of the census can be seen as thoroughly realistic.”

So, far from being a simple error, Luke’s account may turn out to be historically plausible, and that’s before we’ve even considered the kind of confirming document that could well exist somewhere in the sands of Egypt. We’ll link to Professor Hubner’s work in the show notes for any of the Uber nerds who want to go deeper.

Reading

One should never do that to another which one regards as injurious to one’s own self. This, in brief, is the rule of Righteousness. One who acting in a different way by yielding to desire, becomes guilty of unrighteousness. In refusals and gifts, in happiness and misery, in the agreeable and the disagreeable, one should judge of their effects by a reference to one’s own self. When one injures another, the injured turns around and injures the injurer. Similarly, when one cherishes another, that other cherishes the cherisher. One should frame one’s rule of conduct according to this. I have told thee what Righteousness is even by this subtle way.’ 

Director Mark

That’s an excerpt from The Mahabharata, a Hindu text from Ancient India. It reflects what Jesus told his followers: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. But this passage in The Mahabharata—an example of what many call ‘the Golden Rule’—potentially pre-dates Jesus by nearly half a millennium. The Mahabharata was compiled between 400 BC and 400 AD, and other versions of this rule also appear all over the ancient world, including in Egyptian, Confucian, Zoroastrian, and Buddhist traditions. Our next questioner, Emily, wrote to us saying she was talking about this with her agnostic friend and wanted to get John’s thoughts on who said it first.

John Dickson (Studio)

Thanks. I love this sort of question. I should just clarify that there are two things we need to distinguish here. The statement, Love your neighbour as yourself is actually a direct quotation from the Old Testament Leviticus 1918. So it’s definitely before Jesus. But when people refer to the golden rule, they don’t mean to love your neighbour as yourself. They usually mean a specific saying of Jesus about the application of love. In both Matthew 7 and Luke 6, Jesus says, Do to others as you would have them do to you. And then he adds. Love your enemies. Do good to them. Years ago, I was told that this idea, due to others, as you would have them do to you, appears everywhere in ancient ethics and religions. But the more I looked into it, the more I realised that’s not exactly true. There are a couple of earlier parallels, but they are a little bit different from what Jesus actually said. The oldest comes from Confucius in the Analects chapter 15. He said, Do not inflict on others what you yourself would not wish done to you. Which does sound a little bit like Jesus and it’s several centuries earlier, but it’s also different. Confucius says we shouldn’t do the bad things to others that we wouldn’t want done to ourselves, which is excellent advice, but it’s still the negative formulation. It’s about restraining yourself, not actively doing good. Now, interestingly, the next parallel comes from about 50 or 60 years before Jesus, on the lips of the great Jewish Rabbi Hillel, who died in the first century BC. Now, Hillel was a big proponent of love. He saw just like Jesus did, that love stood near the centre of ancient Jewish ethics. Hillel described his approach to Judaism this way, and I’m quoting from the Mishna.

“Loving peace and pursuing peace-loving people, and drawing them near to the Torah (God’s instruction)“.

A humorous story, admittedly written several centuries after Hillel’s death, is told about a heathen, a Greek, or a Roman who wanted to convert to Judaism. He first went to another really famous, but perhaps a little grumpier, rabbi called Shamai, and he didn’t get very far. But then he went to Hillel, lovely Hillel, who gave him this famous answer. I’m gonna read it to you. “On another occasion. It happened that a certain heathen came before Shamai and said to him, Make me a proselyte (a convert) on condition that you teach me the whole Torah while I stand on one foot.” In other words, do it really quickly ’cause I haven’t got much time. And then we read, “Shamai drove him away with a builder’s qubit that was in his hand, like a measuring rod, when he came before Hillel. Hillel made him a convert. Hillel said to him, what is hateful to you? Do not do to your neighbour. That is the whole Torah.” The rest is commentary. Go and learn. That’s from the Babylonian Talmud. Now you can see the resemblance right between Hillel’s statement. What is hateful to you? Do not do to your neighbor. It’s just like Confucius’s earlier line. Do not inflict on others what you yourself would not wish unto you. But notice again, they’re both the negative formulation. They just urge restraint. They tell us not to do harmful things to others. By contrast, Jesus said, do. To others as you would have them do to you. That’s the famous golden rule. Hillel and Confucius offered what you might call the silver rule, which is still pretty good. Don’t do the bad things to others that you don’t want done to yourself. Jesus gave us the golden rule: do to others as you would have them do to you, and that’s a profound difference. I’ve often said it’s the difference between deciding not to punch my enemy in the nose and actively choosing to build my enemy a hospital.

Undeceptions theme