The Lord of the Sabbath (Mark 2:23-3:6)
The Lord of the Sabbath
Mark 2:23–3:6
Introduction
Legalism. That is a word that conjures up many different images and feelings for most of us. For some of us, it is mass, confessionals, and fasting from fish on Fridays. For others, it is strict avoidance of dancing, movies, cards, smoking, and alcohol. For others, it means only so much reflective tape on the back of your buggy. Still for others, it means the scarlet face of an angry parent. All of us, from one degree to another, know legalism.
Legalism is seductive. It has good intentions: “We want precise obedience to the Bible.” Upon those good intentions, it offers the promise of simplicity and clarity. It takes the ambiguities of Scripture and solves them. It searches out every corner, under every rug, into every closet. This is much easier than the diligent application of daily wisdom to navigate the difficulties of life based upon Scriptural principles that are not always as clear as we like.
Legalism is therefore deceptive. What it offers, if fails to deliver. Rather than bringing simplicity, it brings enormous complexity. Rather than creating a garden of “Yes’s,” it creates a thicket of “No’s.” Then comes the onerous burden of minutia—tithing mint and dill and cumin, fasting on Mondays and Thursdays, not tying two handed knots on Sabbath, not eating from vessels not properly cleansed, not hanging out with those sorts. Who is sufficient for these things? Strangely enough, these well-intentioned laws always seem to change as time goes on and the authorized ones (the ever-indefinable “they”) seem to shift their opinions.
Legalism is therefore destructive. Those who measure up (at least mostly) deceive themselves that they really are pleasing to God because they’ve kept all the rules. Yet they miss the intention of the law. Those who don’t (which is most of us) are left with a despairing sense that we have not measured up to God’s law, that we are displeasing to him, and therefore rejected. Simultaneously, on the horizontal plane we are burdened with a sense that nobody is for us, nobody loves us, nobody understands our needy hearts. Thus, rather than stability, it creates instability. Rather than maturity it creates dependence. Rather than freedom it breeds slavery. It creates the chilled atmosphere of a hyper-critical, faultfinding church in which despair, cynicism, and hypocrisy reign, all in the name of obedience to Christ.
To put it in different perspective, legalism is an issue of authority. Who gets to make the rules? The root of legalism is a rejection of the authority of God’s word, which sprouts in a critical spirit, buds in the development of a “parallel law,” and bears fruit in a self-righteous spirit of superiority that looks down on all those who do not keep those rules.
That has been the flow of the unfolding story. Remember, there has been an escalating conflict since the beginning of chapter 2. It begins with silent questioning in the heart over Jesus’ authority to forgive sins. Then it is scandalized when Jesus wields his authority to accept those whom legalism rejects—“tax collectors and sinners.” Then it misses the joy of the new covenant by choosing to abide under the forms of law rather than grace—fasting, not feasting.
Then, as we shall see today, legalism then quarrels with Jesus over what is “lawful.” Rather than abiding under the “perfect law of liberty,” it seeks to subject the freedom of Christ to the rigor of man-made rules. And it all ends with the silent, seething antipathy that is set against Jesus to destroy him.
I think this is a unique temptation for us. And sometimes I think we miss how vulnerable we are to this kind of thinking in our conservative circles. We are conditioned since day one to despise the Pharisees. Pharisees = bad. Yet, because we are naturally self-righteous sinners, we assume that because the Pharisees are bad, we are not Pharisees. Yet I cannot help but have a great deal of sympathy for them, and to see the same kinds of trends among ourselves. We believe that the Bible is God’s word and has authority. We believe that God requires comprehensive obedience in all of life. We believe that obedience is for every person, not just the spiritually elite. All of this is good and right. We are then further prone to concoct a kind of “conservative orthodoxy,” a set of rules and expectations by which we judge others. We must not do this, for in doing so, we set ourselves against Christ himself.
To be clear, I am not saying that our theological positions are wrong! Nor that the Bible is not clear, or authoritative, or that it doesn’t deserve precise obedience. Nor am I promoting lax living or loose theology. Nor am I advocating liberal theological or political positions. License is just as bad as legalism. What I am saying is that we must not allow our theological rightness to devolve into extra-biblical legislation of the consciences of others.
This is what had happened with the Pharisees. Both these stories revolve around events that happened on the Sabbath. Mark reports them out of chronological order because they are linked by the common theme of what is “lawful” on the Sabbath. In each case, Jesus responds by correcting the Pharisees thinking about how to determine what is “lawful.” In other words, how do you really obey the Law? How do you really follow Moses? How do you really do what is lawful?
If we’ve been paying attention, we will recognize a few key themes already that will help us read these stories rightly.
1. The heart of the law was the two commandments: love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself. All the commandments were directed at love, not rule-keeping. They were given to teach how to do good to your neighbor.
2. The law was never a way to become righteous through obedience, but a way to see you were not righteous by how you broke it.
3. Therefore, the law was inadequate for creating a life that was pleasing to God—lawful. To think that one could establish their own righteousness through obedience was always folly.
4. Thus, the law pointed toward the Savior who would forgive sin, fulfill the law on behalf of his people, suffer the penalty of their lawbreaking, and change the heart of the people to love God and one another.
Keeping these things in mind, let us look at each of these stories and draw out lessons for today.
I. The Case of the Rolled Grain (2:23-28)
In order to understand the Pharisees’ charge, we need to understand the Sabbath. The first sabbath was during Creation week on Day 7. Genesis 2:1-3 reports that God rested on the seventh day from all his work, blessed it, and made it holy. And it does not say that there was evening and morning (as the other six days), implying that this day was an eternal time of rest. Key to our understanding of Mark’s story is that Man was created on Day 6, and rest was established on Day 7. In other words, God created man to live in an eternal state of joy, enjoyment, rest, fulfillment, and pleasure in God’s presence. The Sabbath was made for man—to give him holy, blessed, eternal rest.
After Adam sinned, painful toil replaced that rest, and there is no report of a seventh day of rest anywhere until the law is given in Exodus 20. Thus, we are looking for rest to be restored. This is why God commanded Israel to keep the Sabbath. Following God’s pattern of creation, Israel was to work 6 days and rest on the seventh day (Saturday). Every seventh day, they would get a taste of eternal sabbath by being freed from the painful toil of working the ground. This would remind them and the nations around them that God was working through Israel to restore the rest that Adam lost.
As such, the Sabbath became the central symbol of the Mosaic Law. Every covenant has a sign. Noah has the rainbow. Abraham has circumcision. David had the throne. The new covenant has the Spirit. Moses had the Sabbath. Exodus 31:13f. READ AND EXPLAIN. Keeping the sabbath was the sign that Israel was uniquely God’s people under the law.
But the startling thing about this highly important rule is how vague it was. There are a couple of instances where we are given specifics. Things that constituted work were lighting a fire (Exodus 35:1-3), gathering food (Ex 16:22), gathering sticks (Numbers 15:32), treading the winepress (Neh 13:15), bearing burdens (Neh 9) and buying fish (Neh 13:16). From these strictures developed a whole spate of rules through case law and oral tradition which told the people precisely what they could and could not do on the Sabbath—what constituted work and what did not.
But as they did this, they lost sight of the truth of Psalm 92—that the Sabbath was not a time to work for God, but a time for God to work for his people. It was a time for them to rest in his all-power, sufficient provision for all their needs. It was a time to trust, to rest, to enjoy, to rejoice, and (yes) to do good to our neighbors. Even as God originally intended at creation: the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. Instead, the Pharisees had turned Sabbath keeping into a time for man to go to work for God.
This is what is behind the scenes when the Pharisees level their criticism against Jesus. As was allowed by law, the disciples were walking through a grainfield (barley or wheat) and would pluck off a head of grain, roll it between their hands, and eat the kernel as a kind of Jewish trail mix. The Pharisees see this and, based on their oral tradition, see a violation of the commandment not to work on the Sabbath. These are Sabbath breakers! So they level the accusation at Jesus: “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful to do on the Sabbath?” Look at what your followers are doing, Jesus! They’re working! Aren’t you going to stop them? Don’t you care about the law?
We know that Jesus cares about the law. He told the leper back in 1:40-45 to offer the sacrifice that Moses commanded. Jesus perfectly obeyed the law on our behalf so that he might credit his righteousness to our account by faith. So the controversy here is not over whether or not the disciples should keep the Sabbath—Jesus would agree with this, being under the law himself. Rather, it was over what constituted Sabbath keeping.
Jesus brilliantly points to what is to us an obscure passage of Scripture. “Have you not read?” That is, haven’t you interpreted the Scriptures rightly? Haven’t you read the whole book? Or are you too narrowly focused on only one set of principles? One set of laws? Haven’t you read about David and the shewbread?
(Jesus here says Abiathar, who was high priest after him, so it still works.) We know the story. David is fleeing from Saul. He goes to Nod, the city of priests where the ark was kept at that time. Jesus infers from the story that he and his men are “hungry and in need,” so David asks for food and weapons. Ahimelech says that there is no common bread, but there is the bread of the presence. The law said that nobody but the priests could eat the bread of the presence, but Ahimelech inquires of God (1 Sam 22:10), evidently gains his approval, and then gives the bread of the presence to David to eat, provided they have been sexually pure.
You see two principles here. First, love for God and neighbor was always the intention of the law. So, in extenuating circumstances you could do what was technically “unlawful” for the sake of meeting a need and showing love. David had a need, and meeting that need superseded strict keeping of normally legitimate commandments. Second, Yahweh, the Lord of the Sabbath, gave explicit permission to Ahimelech to give this bread to David precisely because this was Yahweh’s intent for the law all along.
So, Jesus answer to the Pharisees is twofold. “Yes, they are picking and eating grain. Haven’t you understood 1) that love was always the intention of the law, and in such cases something like this is ok? And 2) that they have been given explicit permission by one who gets to make the rules for the Sabbath?”
Because Jesus is a good teacher, he then lays it out explicitly. “The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.” This was always God’s intention for Sabbath: to bless man. Man was day 6. Sabbath was day 7. Sabbath was made for man, not the other way around. So, why are you making rules that make the sabbath a burden, not a blessing? How have you so choked the law by your interpretation that there is no room for conscience? Or for leniency? Or for meeting need?
But then is the real point that Jesus wants to make. The Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath. In other words, “I get to make the rules on the Sabbath.” Make no mistake: this was a direct assertion to be Yahweh. He is saying, “I gave the law! Moses came from me! I am the Lord of the Sabbath, who has received all authority from God’s own hand. Do you think I cannot do with my own what I will?” All the authority is Jesus’. He does not pay regard to our man-made rules.
Naturally this only reinforced the developing opinion of the Pharisees about Jesus. And it could only lead to one place: a desire to destroy him.
II. The Case of the Withered Hand (3:1-6)
Another synagogue scene. All the seats would be around the edges and the teacher would sit in the middle. Jesus was teaching, as he always did. And there is a man with a withered hand present. We don’t know what was wrong specifically, but we do know that his ailment was not life-threatening. Pharisaic tradition said that healing was only ok on the Sabbath when life was threatened. If life was not in immediate danger, it had to wait until Sunday to heal. We don’t know if the Pharisees planted this man or not, but either way, they watched him.
There is a wrong way to keep your eyes on Jesus. A fault-finding way. They watched him. But they did watch him for the right reasons. They did not scrupulously observe him so that they may imitate him. Rather, they nitpicked what he did, looking for a reason to accuse him and to put him to death. Isn’t legalism like that? Doesn’t legalism get its scruples up? It looks for wrong. Quarreling with Jesus over what is lawful or not quickly leads us to fault find. Sometimes we fault find with God—we nitpick at his providence and watch to see what he does in order to accuse him of doing us wrong. Or, because Jesus is not here, we nitpick at his people to watch and see what they do in order to put them out of the church, a la Diotrophes.
Jesus recognizes this dynamic. And, like the manly man he is directly confronts the issue. This takes what the Finns call Sisu—guts, bravery, courage, chutzpa. He says to the man “Come here.” So he comes into the middle, in full view where everyone can see. Then, we imagine, he looks directly at the Pharisees, and asks them: “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?” You can cut the tension with a knife.
Jesus is brilliant, as always. First, he is forcing the Pharisees to admit that Jesus can heal and that there is something different about him. Second, he is directly contradicting their opinions publicly, forcing the issue with the crowds. But third, he puts them on the horns of a dilemma. Of course, they would say it is right, lawful, to do good on the Sabbath! But if they say that, then what is to stop Jesus from lawfully alleviating this man’s suffering right now? He surely has the ability. Is it lawful? After all, we all agree, the Sabbath was made for man. So they can’t say it is lawful to do good, otherwise they would admit that their traditions are false. On the other hand, they surely would never say that it is good to do evil on the Sabbath! So, as they will also be later, they don’t say anything. They just sit, stare, and evaluate, watching to see what he would do so that they would have a pretense to put him to death.
This makes Jesus furious. Oh, what a sanguine picture we have of Jesus—Jesus the amiable, the friend, the kind, the jellyfish. But oh what a holy hatred he feels for sin. Oh how the hardheartedness of the Pharisees instills in him a settled, controlled, fiery, burning hatred of all that has destroyed his good world. So he looks around at them and he is infuriated by their hardness of heart. He is angered by their misinterpretation of his Holy Book. He is exasperated by their persistent unwillingness to hear and understand. We must not think that because Jesus is a friend of sinners that he therefore feels no hatred against sin.
But it is lawful to do good. It is lawful to save life. The sabbath was made for man. And so, as the Lord of the Sabbath, he says, “Stretch out your hand.” It was immediately restored.
And in a dazzling stroke of irony, the Pharisees, who had set up these strictures to keep Sabbath—a day meant for doing good and for saving life—set out only to do evil and to take life. They go to their own mortal enemies—the Herodian compromisers—in order to control Jesus, maintain their traditions, keep their prestige, and to put him to death.
Conclusion
So, how do we recognize legalism in ourselves? You might be a legalist if…
1. You quickly find fault with others. That is not to say that you discern what is right from wrong, but that you look for faults to criticize. You find them.
2. You have a critical spirit. You default to a negative attitude about the service, obedience, and knowledge of others. You assume bad motives, lack of wisdom, or intellectual deficiency. You quickly express what you dislike, what you disagree with, what makes you unhappy.
3. You quickly become angry. Your temper flares up when others do not meet your expectations or act differently than you had anticipated.
4. You have a clique. Those who agree with you, who affirm you, who become the echo chamber of your complaints about others and the interpretation you have about the Scripture.
5. You seek revenge. In big or small ways, you seek to get back at the people who have violated your rules—whether the silent treatment or outright murder.
6. Your biblical justification for your rules is only partial or selective. You love some verses, but other verses are consistently, if not completely, ignored. Your interpretation of the bible is overly-narrow and focuses on one section, one theme, one aspect, one action of obedience over all others.
7. You neglect kindness, mercy, compassion, love, patience, and joy. Sometimes, we recognize legalism by the fruit that it kills rather than by the thorns it bears. Would others call you an encourager? Merciful? Patient?
8. You quickly exasperate those around you. When you walk into the room or enter the conversation, it spreads a chill because there are certain things we just can’t talk about around you.
9. You fail to make room for the consciences of others. When others make a decision to do something that your conscience doesn’t allow, you become prickly, harsh, and it puts up a stony barrier between you and them. Then you blame it on them for “putting a stumbling block in your way.”
In other words, we’re all legalists, aren’t we? We all love rules. We all look down on each other. We all fail at this. So, is there any good news for people like us?
Yes. For Jesus loves legalists too. Think of his patience with Nicodemus as he reasons with him at midnight. Think of his love for Peter who refused to eat with Gentiles even after the church was established. Think of his special love for John, the Son of Thunder, who would call down fire upon the heads of those who didn’t play by his rules. Think of Jesus’ love for Paul. Paul himself said, “I am the least of the apostles, unworthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Corinthians 15:9). He was “as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless” (Phil 3:5-6). And what did he say? “By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain” (1 Cor 15:10). “I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost [of sinners], Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life” (1 Tim 1:16).
Legalists don’t need more rules to overcome their legalism. They need to live in the freedom of gospel grace. They need to seek to do good, rather than evil, seek to promote life rather than squash it, seek to increase joy rather than smother it. They need to come to Jesus.