Debbie and I celebrated 38 years of marriage this week. My views on marriage have grown and changed a lot since we first married. Through our marriage, I am learning to embrace it when God ambushes my selfishness and reveals my brokenness. I am learning to clamor for the way of humility rather than assert my rights, defend my position, or justify myself. I have come to see marriage differently. The change has been subtle, gradual, and imperceptible.
I did not realize it until a few weeks ago when I was asked to review notes for a global training program within our denomination addressing marriage and family. As I read the material, I had a sudden flash of memories. It was like microfilm from the archives department playing through my mind about all the things I have read over the years about marriage—all from within my Protestant background. I began to realize that because traditional Protestant theology does not include marriage as a sacrament, we run the risk of reducing marriage to a transactional agreement between two parties. No mystery to it. No “otherness” about it. Just two people making a mutually beneficial agreement.
Marriage is more than a transactional agreement. It is a divine mystery, a living icon of Christ and his church. The love, passion, and longing I have for union with my wife—union of spirit, soul, and body—is an echo of my soul’s longing for union with Christ. When my soul’s longing is fulfilled at the resurrection of the dead, marriage as an icon will cease to exist, not because it will be outdated but because it will be fulfilled. Creation will be fully healed and restored to its God; the two joined together in the song of the redeemed. The icon fades into what was signified. Longing gives way to fulfillment. Promise and hope burst forth in all things becoming new. The shadow of marriage becomes the substance of what was longed for.
Marriage is about more than two people being joined together; it is about the human community becoming whole and holy unto the Lord. It is about healing the wound of death and destruction we inherited from our first parents. It is about love reaching into the deepest, darkest, and most fiercely protected citadels of the human heart and healing it with love, grace, and a persistent presence. It is here, in this house of ambush, that we see the healing and restorative power of grace incarnate in human flesh for the life of the world.
Perhaps my Protestant mind cannot utter the words, “Marriage is a sacrament,” but my transformed heart, healed and being healed by the grace-infused love of that woman—the one who captured my imagination more than thirty-five years ago—gladly confesses that marriage is sacramental. And like all means of grace, it is for the healing of the nations.
Adapted from my new book, Following Wisdom, Leading Wisely: Proverbs as Ancient Wisdom for Today’s Leader. Pick your copy today. Available on Amazon or wherever you get your books.
Righteousness is a complex yet central idea in the Old Testament. Keep in mind that the Old Testament texts must not be read through the eyes of the Reformation controversies about “righteousness” and “justification” or even through Paul’s letters to the Romans and Galatians. The Old Testament writers were not aware of the problems of the New Testament church, whether in the first or sixteenth century.I do fear that since the Reformation, we Christians have fixated so ardently on the debate between righteousness by faith and righteousness by works that we may have overlooked a profound truth about righteousness itself. Reducing righteousness to a rigid set of legalistic standards or a simplistic slogan (about “Christ’s imputed righteousness”), we risk stifling the potential for deeper growth in righteousness as a virtuous way of being.
Righteousness (ṣedeq,ṣĕdāqâ, ṣaddı̂q) lies at the heart of the Hebrew Bible. The richness of the word can be seen in the various ways it is translated into English. For example, the Revised Standard Version renders ṣedeq,ṣĕdāqâ/ṣaddı̂qby a variety of words: acquittal, deliverance, honest evidence (Prov 12:17), integrity (Job 31:6), judgment, justice, prosperity, right, righteousness (most common), righteous deeds, righteous help, salvation, saving help, victory, vindication. The Jerusalem Bible, particularly in Isaiah 40–66 and the Psalms, often opts for the translation “integrity.” These diverse renderings highlight the nuanced depths contained within the Hebrew word.
God himself is often depicted as “righteous.” This portrayal speaks to his essential nature of justice, fairness, goodness, integrity, and unwavering faithfulness that forms the bedrock of his relationship with his people. It serves as the cornerstone of his bond with his chosen ones and sets the standard against which all human conduct is measured. Righteousness encompasses God’s intentions for both creation and the community in which he dwells. It is through righteousness that God brings forth order and prosperity in creation, fulfilling his purpose and demonstrating his redemptive will. The understanding that righteousness encompasses God’s intentions for both creation and the community in which he dwells invites us to explore the profound connections between religion, spirituality, and ecological stewardship. It deepens our comprehension of humanity’s role in caring for and harmoniously dwelling within creation. This truth resonates in the jubilant celebration of wisdom in Proverbs 8:22–31, as she rejoices in God’s handiwork.
Righteousness is also used to describe human conduct aligned with God’s will. However, the Old Testament resolutely reminds us that righteousness is not mere adherence to rules; it is a matter of the heart. Righteousness is meant to govern not only our actions but also our attitudes. To embody righteousness in action and attitude is to live in harmony with God’s character and commands. It entails a moral existence imbued with integrity, honesty, and humility, coupled with the just and merciful treatment of others.
In other words, righteousness is about relationships more than it is about rules. It encompasses the pursuit of right order in creation and the cultivation of right relationships within the community where God dwells. Restoring and cultivating relationships that cause human flourishing is the aim of righteousness. However, a mistaken understanding of righteousness can lead to elevating external behavior over God’s redemptive purpose. This can lead to a legalistic approach to religion, where people focus on following a set of rules rather than on restoring relationships. Let me illustrate with a story from the life of Jesus and the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1–11).
Imagine yourself as one of the men who stood ready to stone this woman for her sin. You stand there ready to do your duty, to obey the law of God to its fullest. The adulteress must be stoned (Lev 20:10–12). This woman violated God’s holy law. To you, she also violated the community, the man (who is strangely absent), and herself. How, you might reason, can society survive if she goes unpunished? We must uphold the standard of our God, our nation, and our people. Her actions were an affront to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This assault could not stand. It was evil. You stand there ready, a stone in hand.
You do not know her name. It does not matter. You know her crime. You know her sin. She was caught in the very act of adultery. She is to you a nameless, immoral woman. An adulteress, a seducer of men. Those who go near her tread the very gates of hell. What has happened to our world? You wonder to yourself. Our morals are in decay. This must be stopped here and now. You are not alone in your judgment. Others stand with you, ready and united, each with a stone in hand. Your stones would bury this assault on your values. Your stones would crush this nameless woman.
It was easier to do this as a crowd. You would all participate, but none of you would bear the guilt of knowing whose stone struck the mortal blow. It was better this way—a nameless seductress dispatched by a faceless crowd. You were only doing your duty to protect the honor of God.
Then this man steps in the way. He stands between your justice and the condemned woman. He kneels. At first, you think he is reaching for a stone to join you. But he did not pick up a stone. Instead, he wrote something in the dirt. We do not know what he wrote, but you can tell us what he said, for it destroyed something in you. You had been zealous from your youth to please God, to do what is right, and to live according to his Law. You wanted nothing to do with compromise.
By outward appearance, you were very successful in this pursuit. But, in the dark silent places of your heart, you knew better. Age has a way of revealing human frailties that youth so easily hides. Not the frailties of an aging body; you are not vain enough to care about grey, thinning hair. No, it is a much deeper frailty. More than your body aches, your soul aches. In spite of all your efforts, the painful broken places remain covered over but not hidden. They are there. You know it. And he knows it.
He spoke, and his voice was like that of many waters. Water for cleansing, water for healing, water for renewing. Water was again flowing from the rock. His words shake you to your core, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” Every darkness in you flashed through your mind on full ignoble display. You are undone. You surrender. You cannot cast a stone at her without unleashing a thousand condemnations upon your own head. You are the guilty one. He knelt again and began to write. As he did, the stone fell from your hand, and you fell upon the rock. The woman was set free from her condemnation, and so were you. That is what righteousness does. It restores people to life.
When my relationships with others are broken because I allow unrighteousness to fester in my life, I am breaking myself off from the very presence that holds the power to heal and restore me. Righteousness as right relationships, as well as right behavior, aligns us in the divine order, forging a path of restoration before God and our fellow human beings. It is righteousness, the embodiment of our actions toward others, that establishes well-being within the community and forms the bedrock of an ethical community built upon mutual love and responsibility. When we are righteous, we treat others with honor, compassion, and justice. We build up others instead of tearing them down. We create a sense of community and belonging. We make the world a better place. We create a more just, equitable, and peaceful society. We help to build a world where everyone can thrive. This clarion call to righteousness resonates through the Law and the Prophets, and continues through to the New Testament, transcending time and summoning us to a steadfast commitment to walk the path of righteousness in all relationships.
This is from my new book, Following Wisdom, Leading Wisely: Proverbs as Ancient Wisdom for Today’s Leader. Available on Amazon or wherever you get your books.
“There are many ways to destroy a person, but one of the simplest and most devastating is through prolonged solitary confinement.” These are the opening words of Lisa Guenther’s profound and challenging book, Solitary Confinement: Social Death and Its Afterlives. Guenther examined the experience of solitary confinement in America from the early nineteenth century to today’s supermax prisons. Solitary confinement undermines a prisoner’s sense of identity and ability to understand the world. They are more likely to develop anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, and psychosis. The confinement also adversely impacts physical health, increasing a person’s risk for a range of conditions, including fractures, vision loss, chronic pain, hypersensitivity to sounds and smells, and problems with attention, concentration, and memory. There may be hallucinations, paranoia, poor impulse control, social withdrawal, outbursts of violence, and psychosis. Yes, solitary confinement, whether in prison or in life, is very destructive. It is, as Guenther argues, a violent attack on the structure of being itself.
It is not only prisoners in solitary confinement that suffer the consequences of isolation. We live on a planet with more than eight billion people, and yet loneliness is a pervasive source of human suffering in the world today. Loneliness is so acute that the British government took the drastic action of appointing Tracey Crouch as the nation’s first Minister of Loneliness in 2018. According to research, loneliness damages your health by raising the levels of stress hormones and inflammation, which in turn increase your risk of heart disease, arthritis, Type 2 diabetes, dementia, and even suicide. Whether in a maximum-security prison cell or in the crowded intersection of London’s Piccadilly Circus, isolation and alienation are ruling powers of this present darkness, a spiritual host of wickedness. Leaders are called to lead the way in overthrowing the dominion of loneliness by acts of welcome and embrace, and this is why Proverbs seeks to make you wise when it comes to friends, foes, and neighbors.
The fact that Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People was published in 1936 and has remained to this day a perennial best seller illustrates our longing for friends. We humans are, above all things, social beings. Unfortunately, we have become proficient at categorizing and commoditizing our social networks and are poor at building relationships.
As a ministry leader, you do not get to choose who you lead… However, when it comes to friends, it is a different story. When it comes to choosing friends, you can be picky…
It is hard to overstate just how important your friends are. Their influence on your thinking and behavior shapes your character. Your friends can build you up or tear you down. They make you, or they break you. If you walk with the wise, you will become wise (Prov 13:20), and if you walk with fools and the wicked, you will follow the path of destruction (Prov 12:26). The quality of your friends makes you better or worse. One of the most powerful ways to change your life is to upgrade your friendships. You may only be a few friends away from the breakthroughs you need.
Many a man proclaims his own steadfast love, but a faithful man who can find?
—Proverbs 20:6
J.R.R. Tolkien captures the beauty and strength of friendship in The Lord of the Rings. Every time Frodo tries to go alone in his quest to destroy the ring of power, his friends refuse to let him. At the beginning of his quest, he tries to slip out of the Shire unnoticed, only to discover that Merry and Pippin have conspired with Sam to go with him, and not only that, but they have also known about his secret ring for some time. Frodo did not know if he felt angry, amused, relieved, or merely foolish at this discovery. Sam reminded Frodo of Gandalf’s words that he was not to go alone; he was to take with him someone he could trust. Frodo replied, “But it does not seem I can trust anyone.” Merry responded,
It all depends on what you want. You can trust us to stick with you through thick and thin—to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours—closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo.
Faithful friendship is an underlying theme within Tolkien’s saga, whether it was when Frodo attempted to leave the Shire or when he broke away from the fellowship of the ring and Sam followed after him, refusing to break his promise of companionship, or when Éomer marshals the cavalry of Rohan with his stirring speech:
Now is the hour come, Riders of the Mark, sons of Eorl! Foes and fire are before you, and your homes far behind. Yet, though you fight upon an alien field, the glory that you reap shall be your own forever. Oaths ye have taken: now fulfill them all, to lord and land and league of friendship!
When Frodo and Sam are finally at the Mount of Doom, and Frodo is too spent to continue, Sam tells Frodo, “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.” It is friendship that makes Samwise Gamgee the greatest hero among all the heroes in The Lord of the Rings.
A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.
—Proverbs 18:24
I ran my first marathon when I was 49 years old. I had taken up running because I needed some form of exercise that I could do consistently while also keeping a demanding travel schedule. After running for a few years, I thought, “I want to run a marathon.” Debbie and I lived in Athens, Greece at the time so I enrolled in the local marathon, “The Authentic.” The course is inspired by the Ancient Greek legend of Pheidippides, a messenger who is said to have run from Marathon to Athens to bring news of the Greek victory over the Persians at the Battle of Marathon. It starts in the city of Marathon (yes, that’s where the name comes from) and continues for 26.2 miles (42.2 km), ending in the old Olympic Stadium in Athens. The course is uphill from the 6-mile mark (10 km) to the 19-mile mark (31 km). Yes, that’s 13 miles (21 km) running up a hill. It is the toughest uphill climb of any major marathon. I had made it up the hill, but I was hurting, exhausted, and barely moving.
Then I saw my friend Stelios yelling and cheering me on. At first, I thought, “Stelios, what are you doing here? Your wife is about to go into labor at any moment. Why are you here?” Yet, there he was, wading through more than 16,000runners, looking for me, just so that he could run into the street and give me a high-five and tell me I could do this, I could make it, keep going. Stelios cared enough about me to come alongside me and give me the courage to finish the race. His love and encouragement inspired hope in my aching body and weary mind. I finished the marathon, in part because of Stelios. He pulled something out of me that I did not know I had.
In The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis notes, “In each of my friends, there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself, I am not large enough to call the whole man to activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets.” He goes on, “Now that Charles is dead, I shall never again see Ronald’s [J.R.R. Tolkien] reaction to a specifically Caroline joke. Far from having more of Ronald, having him ‘to myself’ now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald.” Such is the power of friends. They illuminate facets of our lives that no one else can shine upon, and they make us better people because of it. This inspires hope that we are more than we can see in ourselves and that we are capable of change with a little help from our friends.
That’s what friends do. They inspire us; they cause us to dig deep, to keep going, to hold on to hope. True friends make you a better version of yourself, for “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another” (Prov 27:17).
Ecclesiastes tells us:
Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken” (Eccl 4:9–12).
This is from my new book, Following Wisdom, Leading Wisely: Proverbs as Ancient Wisdom for Today’s Leader. Available on Amazon or wherever you get your books.
My friends Tim and Kristina have a Yorkie named Misha that looks like an Ewok from Star Wars. My friends James and Nikki have an adorable Cavalier King Charles named Zoey that I have to confess I have been tempted to steal. I can’t say much about Steve and Kim’s rat other than to wonder who sinned, Steve or his parents, that he was born allergic to dogs. Animals play an important role in our lives as teachers. This is biblical. Proverbs 6:6 tells us, “Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.” Leeches, ravens, eagles, serpents, ants, rock badgers, locusts, lizards, lions, and roosters are among our teachers in Proverbs 30. Three of my best teachers were dogs.
Noel was a scruffy little Schnauzer who taught me the power of welcoming people who may feel awkward and out of place. Kelly was a black Labrador Retriever who loved to sit with me for long periods of time. She would rather be with me than her own kind. She taught me about lingering in the presence of God and being at peace in the presence of the One who is Wholly Other than me. My current teacher is a tricolor Aussalier named Millie. She has never met a stranger, and she is a terrible guard dog because she thinks everyone is a friend that wants to rub her belly. While I will not be offering my belly to anyone for a rub, I do find myself regularly praying, “Lord, teach me to love people the way Millie does.”
I realize dogs sometimes appear in negative contexts in the Bible, though they are not listed as ritually unclean animals. There is archaeological evidence from the skeletal remains found within the Levant that the domestication of dogs did not happen until the Persian (559-331 BC) and Hellenistic (323-30 BC) periods within Israel. The historical setting of the Old Testament ranges between 1500 – 400 BC, so their context predates the domestication of dogs in their area. Over time Jews began to view dogs more positively, as can be seen in the second-century B.C. book of Tobit. Tobit, a devout and wealthy Israelite living among the captives deported to Nineveh from the Northern Kingdom of Israel in 722/721 B.C., suffers severe reverses and is finally blinded. Because of his misfortunes he begs the Lord to let him die. But recalling the large sum he had deposited in faraway Media, he sends his son Tobias there to bring back the money, accompanied by the angel Raphael and the family dog, “The young man went out, and the angel went with him, and the dog came out with him and went along with them. So they both journeyed along, and when the first night overtook them they camped by the Tigris River” (Tobit 6:1–2, NRSV).
Other ancient authors began to observe that dogs know to elevate an injured leg, just as Hippocrates prescribed. They also observed that dogs know what plants to eat as medicine to induce vomiting if they have eaten something that upsets their stomach and that dogs know to lick their wounds to ensure it remains clean and will heal more quickly. Dogs began to be associated with healing as a physician of the animal kingdom. Dogs appear in the cult of Asclepius, the Greek god of medicine. Sacred dogs, living in the god’s temples, would lick visitors’ injuries. Their tongues apparently soothed and healed wounds. Perhaps this gives insight into the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31). While the rich man could not be bothered to offer mercy and aid to this destitute man, a dog had compassion on Lazarus, providing company and licking his sores to bring relief and remedy. The dog was teaching compassion, but the rich man would not listen.
You do not need to rush out and get a dog, but I do want to encourage you to slow down and listen to God’s voice through his creation, be it a dog, a cat, a gerbil, and yes, even a rat. Hurry, rush, time crunches, FOMO, and the love of exhaustion and busyness rob us of the simple joys of welcome, presence, and love. Thank you, Noel, Kelly, and Millie, for teaching this to me. I am a better person because of you.
What is desired in a man is steadfast love, and a poor man is better than a liar.
Proverbs 19:22
It has always seemed strange to me that one of the two “greatest commandments” is buried in Leviticus 19, a chapter that seems to bring together a hodge-podge of random and unrelated laws ranging from don’t gossip, don’t hate, don’t take revenge, don’t bear a grudge to laws of social justice, such as leave parts of the harvest for the poor; don’t pervert justice; don’t withhold wages; don’t use false weights and measures. And while you are it, don’t crossbreed livestock; don’t plant a field with mixed seeds; don’t wear a garment of mixed wool and linen; don’t eat fruit of the first three years; don’t eat blood; don’t practice divination; don’t cut yourself. The whole book seems devoted to blood, guts, fire, and prohibitions against very tasty seafood.
I admit it, Leviticus is a challenge for me. It even threatens my habit of reading through the Bible every year. I start the new year in Genesis, a book with fantastic stories and interesting characters. So far, so good. Then comes Exodus. It’s exciting at first. God delivers his people from Egyptian slavery. Then things get messy, but I keep reading. After Exodus comes Leviticus, the graveyard of Bible reading plans. Well intentioned readers have walked into Leviticus never to be seen again, lost somewhere between burning bulls, tossing blood, and fat covered entrails. Leviticus is usually the last book Christians read. It is, however, traditionally the first book Jewish children learn in the Rabbinic system of education.[1] And I think they have the better of it.
The book itself focuses on the newly consecrated priests Aaron and his sons and is basically a manual of priestly regulations and procedures. The reason the Israelite priests were given such detailed instructions about the care of God’s sanctuary was to ensure his continuing presence with his people.[2]
The English name Leviticus comes from the Latin Leviticus. The Jews used the opening word of the book, Vayikra’, ‘he called’, as the title of this book.[3] Jewish rabbis explain that “He called” is a term of endearment. Many of God’s messages in the Torah are prefaced by the words, “he said,” “He spoke,” or “He commanded,” but Vayikra, “He called,” is the language of invitation, friendship, and love. “In love God called Abraham to follow him. In love God led the way for the wandering Israelites in a pillar of cloud by day, fire by night. In love God calls the people Israel to come close to Him, to be regular visitors at His house, to share His quality of holiness, difference, apartness: to become, as it were, mediators of His presence to the world.”[4]
While Leviticus seems about as far removed from our world as a book could possibly be, it is a key text, if not the key text, to Judaism, and consequently, Christianity. Leviticus was central to the education of Jesus, as well as the Apostle Paul and all the other Jewish followers of Jesus.
The command of God to love your neighbor, your enemy, and the stranger is far more than demanding than “the Golden Rule.” In Matthew 7:12, Jesus says, “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.” The idea of “The Golden Rule” is not unique to Judaism or Christianity. Similar examples of this rule are found in Hinduism, “This is the sum of duty: do not do to others what would cause pain for you” (Mahababharata 5.1517); Confucianism, “Do not do to others what you would not have them do for you” (Analects of Confucius 15:23); Buddhist writings, “Hurt not others in ways you yourself would find hurtful” (Udana-Varga 5.18); and in ancient Greek philosophy, “May I do to others as I would they should do unto me” (Plato, Laws II).[5] The concept appears as well in Islam, Taoism, Zoroastrianism, and most of the world’s major religions.[6]
Notice, however, that the Golden Rule, as stated by Jesus, is not actually a direct quotation of the commandment recorded in Leviticus 19:18, 33-34. He will do that later. The Golden Rule, as generally communicated, is not about love, but rather about justice and ethics, or perhaps what evolutionary psychologists call reciprocal altruism. But notice, the Leviticus passages do not tell us, “Be nice to your neighbor, because you would want him to be nice to you.” It says, “Love your neighbor.” That is something different and far stronger. It is this stronger and different sense that Jesus captures when he is asked, “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 22:34–40). Notice how Jesus takes us beyond a universal call to be nice to people to a specific call to go beyond kindness and to love your neighbor as yourself.
In Luke 6:27-36, Jesus so intermingles acts of justice and mercy with the command to love that one can hardly distinguish one from the other. “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them. “If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.” Personally, I think Jesus places these acts of obedience and the heart of love side-by-side because sometimes I must do acts of kindness to plant seeds of love in my own heart. Other times, I may feel love for a person and yet fail to express that love with acts of justice and mercy. Most of the time, though, my heart is hard and loveless, filled with judgement and prejudice against those not like me. It is here that I must learn again the power of doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with my God (Micah 6:8). Doing justice, being kind, and showing mercy hammer away at my heart of stone, cracking it open that love for my neighbor and love for my enemy may find lodging in a heart once at enmity with God and others. It is the act of obedience that becomes the organ of spiritual knowledge. I learn to love when I learn to be kind and merciful. And it is this love of the other, both neighbor and enemy, that helps insure the continual presence of God in my life. Leviticus is starting to make sense to me.
Now, back to Leviticus 19. This chapter contains two of the most powerful of all God’s commandments: to love your neighbor and to love the stranger. The first is in Leviticus 19:18, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord” (Lev 19:18). The second is in Leviticus 19:33-34, when the command to love your neighbor as yourself is taken to an unheard-of height when God commands that we also love the stranger, the alien, the one who is not like us. “When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” It is this love that sanctifies and makes holy, that sets apart humans as the temple of God. It is love that opens your eyes to see God in his image-bearers, as broken and as hostile as they may be.
Most people in most societies in most ages have feared, hated, and often harmed the stranger, the alien, the one who is different. People don’t usually love strangers. Yet, this is exactly what God commands us to do. The command to love – not just God – but humanity, all of humanity, including strangers and enemies, is an extraordinary commandment and a world-changing idea. It is this love for neighbor and love for enemy that makes us “holy to the Lord,” and this helps insure the continually abiding presence of God among his people.[7] As our rabbi Jesus told us, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35).
You can excel in casting vision, managing details, and motivating the masses, but if you are not loving God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength and loving your neighbor as yourself, you are failing as the leader God has called you to be. For you are called to lead not only to motivate people, make a profit, and increase the influence of your organization, you are called to be holy, to increase the presence of God in the world through love of neighbor, love of enemy, and love of the stranger. You are called to participate in the priestly ministry of democratizing holiness, moving holiness from the sanctuary to society, from your private world to your neighborhood, and from a love of humanity to love for the human near you, even when that human hates you or you feel threatened by them because they are different than you.
[1] Sacks, Jonathan. Leviticus: The Book of Holiness. New Milford, CT: Maggid Books & The Orthodox Union, 2015. 3.
[2] R. K. Harrison, Leviticus: An Introduction and Commentary, vol. 3, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1980), 26.
[3] R. K. Harrison, Leviticus: An Introduction and Commentary, vol. 3, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1980), 13.
[4] Sacks, Jonathan. Leviticus: The Book of Holiness. New Milford, CT: Maggid Books & The Orthodox Union, 2015. 5.
[5] Michael Westmoreland-White, “Golden,” in Dictionary of Scripture and Ethics, ed. Joel B. Green et al. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2011), 331–332.
[6] Raymond F. Collins, “Golden Rule,” in The Anchor Yale Bible Dictionary, ed. David Noel Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 1070.
[7] Sacks, Jonathan. Leviticus: The Book of Holiness. New Milford, CT: Maggid Books & The Orthodox Union, 2015.
Debbie and I serve as the FMI Global Associate Director for MENACA and Europe. We focus on cultivating disciples, leaders, and church planting movements.