Don’t carry your bed in public on the Sabbath day. Under most circumstances that was a reasonable application of Jeremiah 17:21-22; “Bear no burden on the sabbath day…neither carry forth a burden out of your houses on the sabbath day.” Normally, abed would be a burden; deliberately picking one up and carrying it in a public area would be a willful violation of God’s command.
But an exceptional situation had occurred (John 5:1-16). A man’s longstanding malady had been cured and he could carry his bed for the first time in 38 years. This bed was no burden; it was a joy. Carrying it was public testimony to the fact Messiah had relieved a great burden which had been crushing the man for this long time.
The sabbath was to be a day of rest from the Edenic curse, a curse which included susceptibility to long-term illness as well as laborious work. In this case, carrying the bed perfectly expressed the great release of which the sabbath spoke. The man carrying his bed was an exceptional set of circumstances in complete harmony with God’s will, but in direct violation of the traditions of the Jews.
A vital consideration
There was nothing wrong with the Jews’ desire to observe sabbath. The sabbath law was given more space than any other in the ten commandments; willful breaking of it was punishable by death (Ex. 20:8-11; 31:14-15). It was, in fact, a very special law which testified to the unique relationship between God and His people (31:13,16-17). Here was something which distinguished the Jewish people as a separated community and helped to define and preserve their very existence, especially when they were scattered among other nations.
Practical problems
From the Jews’ point of view, however there were some practical difficulties in the divine revelation.
While significant, the sabbath was not the most important law. Sometimes it was superseded by other regulations (Matt. 12:1-13). The priests had to work harder on the sabbath than on a weekday as additional offerings were made (Num. 28:9-10). And anything suffering a potentially fatal accident should surely be rescued on the sabbath (Matt. 12:11).
This matter of priority left an area open to personal judgment decisions. God preferred mercy to sacrifice (cf. Matt. 12:10-11). Perhaps as an act of loving hospitality, it would be good to take a bed to a neighbor’s house for an unexpected guest. The rabbis might worry this would set a precedent for someone less spiritual moving house on the sabbath. We all know what the flesh is like, always ready to grasp at someone else’s action to justify slipping around the spirit of the word. It is better, the reasoning would go, to keep standards consistent. Consistency was safer for the community. Unfortunately, however, it led to a hardening of heart against the one who was full of grace and truth.
There was a second problem about the sabbath regulation: “work” was not extensively defined in the law. Where should one draw the line on threshing, for example? Was it farm work to remove the husks from a few ears of grain so they could be eaten raw? (cf. Matt. 12:1-2). How far could one walk before it was more work than relaxation? (cf. Acts 1:12). The law could have been more specific but it was not.
Seeing this practical problem, the rabbis defined all of the sabbath issues they could think of as meticulously as possible. A “burden” was anything more than the weight of one fig. It was “work” to pick up one’s false teeth if they should fall to the ground, therefore false teeth should not be worn on the sabbath (Alfred Edersheim, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, Appendix 17). In the Babylonian Talmud, one entire volume of 806 pages is devoted to defining sabbath laws.
Perhaps the rabbis should have left well enough alone. If God wanted the rules defined more specifically, He would have done it. Yet we can understand the Jews’ rationale. Without specific guidelines, a lot of ordinary Jewish people would unwittingly sin because they were not sufficiently learned or had not reached an adequate level of spiritual maturity. In detailing the sabbath law, however, the Jews made a mistake which led them to oppose their own Messiah; they failed to make adequate allowance for exceptional circumstances.
One might think that when unusual conditions arose, the rules could be adjusted. If the Jews were sincere about serving God, they would recognize their delineations had missed the spirit of God’s word in a given situation and would back off, giving the spirit precedence over the letter. When Christ came, some of them did. In most cases, the disciples were able to see where human application had missed the intent of divine will. Sadly, the majority did not. They exalted tradition over scripture; they accused their own Savior of deliberate sin; they sought to stone the very one who would deliver them. Eventually, their preoccupation with human definitions contributed to their murder of the Son of God.
In our time
Sabbath observance is not now required, yet the very issues it raised for the Jews are presented to us by other matters. We face important decisions, some vital to the definition of ourselves as a separate community. Like the Jews, we need to prioritize divine requirements when, for example, a balance must be struck between purity of doctrine and individual growth. Like them, we, too, face matters where we desire a more extensive definition of what is right. Accordingly, we should learn something from their experience with the sabbath; we should learn not to be so restrictive in our practices that we cannot handle exceptional situations.
For instance, chaste behavior and right conduct in marital relations have always been important to God. With the declining standards around us, a strong position by the ecclesia is more vital than ever. The times call for firm, consistent ecclesial discipline when transgression occurs. We may feel that the best recourse is to have a very hard-line policy. If this creates a burden on some, let them, we may reason, conform for the sake of the community.
Much of the time, such an approach may serve to prevent sin. The difficulty comes when exceptional circumstances arise that we have not anticipated. Mercy still rules over tradition and we may be faced with going against our policy or, if we follow policy, withholding fellowship when it should be extended.
Another example is welcoming people to share the emblems. We must define ourselves as a community or we will gradually cease to exist. Furthermore, we cannot have an elaborate interview with every visitor who walks in the door. Like the Jews with the sabbath law, the only practical course is to settle on a clear-cut definition. If somebody is in our “fellowship,” we welcome them, otherwise we don’t.
This procedure may ordinarily work all right, but what happens when a unique set of circumstances arises? What happens when we realize our traditional approach is running counter to the spirit of the word of God? Which takes precedence? As servants of God, we would all agree that we must exalt scripture over our own rules no matter how well intentioned they may be. In practice, however, that may not happen.
Tradition the easiest
From a human point of view, the easiest way out is to do what we have always done. Any change will bring strident opposition from some. It did within the Jewish community; it will within any community with strong convictions. When it comes to prioritizing the commands of God in unusual circumstances, it would be wholly unrealistic to expect everyone to reach the same conclusion at the same time. The natural tendency is to keep the existing group intact with existing procedures undisturbed.
No murder?
We may feel comfortable with following tradition because we may view the only adverse consequence we can impose is withdrawing from one who is troublesome or refusing fellowship to one who has never been with us. Our situation is not like the Jews where the wrong choice meant rejection of the Messiah.
Or is it?
If we choose tradition over the principles of God, we are, in effect, rejecting the very Gospel we trust will save us. When we face the Lord at the judgment seat, the personal consequences of our choosing human policy over mercy, for example, could be severe.
Consider, too, that if we withdraw from someone, it may well mean their death, forever. We need to face squarely the importance of our decisions in this regard. Few of us could spiritually survive if we were cut off from ecclesial association. We hear that message all the time in exhortations urging us to be involved in ecclesial life. What about the person from whom we withdraw? If ecclesial fellowship is vital to spiritual survival, by our own logic, withdrawal is putting that person in great jeopardy.
When it comes to refusing the visitor, we cannot honestly extol the strengthening virtues of interecclesial fellowship on one hand, and on the other hand casually dismiss the consequences of refusing to extend them. If we reject a visitor on the basis of tradition, we can hardly convince the Lord we are committed to the well-being of the whole body of which he is the head.
We need to be aware that exceptional circumstances can, and will, arise. Let us be ready for them that, when they come, we will not automatically follow tradition but will seek to implement the spirit of the Truth.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One