By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth. [1 John 3:16-18 (ESV)]
In Acts 6, Luke writes about a problem with the Hellenistic Jewish believers. Meaning “to speak Greek” or “to make Greek,” Hellenism describes Jewish assimilation to the Greek language, manners, and culture. The process started in the 4th century BC with Alexander’s conquest of Palestine when Greeks settled into the land and, at the same time, Jews dispersed throughout Greek empire.
By the 1st century, there were two distinct groups of Jews living in Jerusalem. The first, the “Hebrew” Jews, were those who prided themselves on the fact they’d always lived in the land of the Patriarchs. (By that time, Babylonia and Syria were considered an extension of that land.) Having been born in Palestine, these Hebraic Jews spoke Palestinian Aramaic and/or Hebrew, used the Hebrew Scriptures, lived in or near Judea, observed Jewish customs, and regularly worshipped at the Temple. The other group, referred to as “Hellenized” Jews, consisted of Jews who once lived among Gentiles in Greek cities or Roman colonies. Coming from places like Crete, Cyrene, Alexandria, Cicilia, and Asia, they spoke the Greek language, were more influenced by the Greek philosophers, and used the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures called the Septuagint. Less observant of the Jewish customs and oral traditions that had developed over the centuries in Judea and Babylonia, Hellenists often were clean shaven. Like many immigrants, they settled in areas populated by others like them and had their own synagogues in which they worshiped.
While no less Jewish than their brothers, these Hellenists were looked down upon because they came from other parts of the world. Customarily, pious elderly Jews who were not from Judea would come to Jerusalem so they could die in the land of their people. Although these newcomers came to Judea out of devotion to Jehovah and the Torah, the Hebraic Jews suspected them of being more Greek than Hebrew and considered them outsiders. The Talmud says the Pharisees considered any Jew not native-born a “second-class Israelite.”
The vast majority of Jesus’ first followers were Hebraic Jews and the new church was led by them. Nevertheless, both Hebraic and Hellenized Jews would have been among the 3,000 who became followers of Christ on Pentecost. In Jewish law, a woman did not receive an inheritance and, if widowed, became dependent on relatives and the community for support. Because so many of the foreign Jews returning to Jerusalem were elderly, there was a disproportionate number of Hellenist widows in their community. Strangers in a new land, the widows had no relatives at hand to care for them as would the Hebrew widows of the longtime residents. Moreover, by choosing to become Christ followers, they may have lost any assistance they might have received from their Hellenist synagogue.
Although the Torah commanded caring for widows and Jesus instructed us to care for the needy, the Hellenist Jews in the new church complained that their widows were being neglected in the food distribution. While the slight may have been the result of the church’s rapid growth, it was deeply felt and threatened the message and unity of the new church. In an example of godly wisdom and Christian unity, the church quickly addressed the problem and commissioned seven men to meet the community’s needs. The standard Greek names of all those chosen indicate the church intentionally chose Hellenists to right the wrong that had been done.
The early church’s neglect of those widows may have been inadvertent but it also may have indicated a larger conflict between two groups with vastly different cultural backgrounds. I wonder if the Hebrew Jews’ long-held contempt for the foreign-born Hellenists (“second-class Israelites”) truly ended when they became Christ followers. Could some people have carried their pre-conversion bias into the church when they became believers? With all of the prejudice, stereotyping, racism, xenophobia, and animosity we have in today’s world, I must ask if we’ve brought any of that into today’s church, as well.
Do we truly love our neighbor and welcome the stranger no matter what their citizenship standing, economic level, political viewpoint, nationality, race, sex, language, or background? We should!
Can worship be fun? In various translations, Hebrews 12:28 tells us to worship God with reverence and awe, honor and respect, or deep reverence. No where is there any mention of fun. In fact, except for the somewhat cynical and world-weary words directing us to eat, drink, and be merry in Ecclesiastes 8:15 Scripture uses the word “fun” in a negative way—that of “making fun” of someone. Hagar was sent away after she and Ishmael made fun of Isaac, Delilah accused Sampson of making fun of her with his lies, and the fertile Peninnah made fun of Hannah because of her barrenness. So, if, by “fun,” we mean mere amusement (especially at another’s expense), it doesn’t seem that fun and worship go hand in hand. On the other hand, if by “fun” we mean something deeper than light-hearted entertainment or diversion, perhaps it does.
Immediately after the Parable of the Mustard Seed, Jesus compared the Kingdom of Heaven to the yeast a woman added to “three measures of flour” when making bread. While “measures” seems vague, the original word used wasn’t. It was seah (about a peck and a half of flour) and three seahs were over 167 cups (nearly 50 pounds) of flour. This was an enormous amount of flour for just “a little yeast” and, as He did in the previous parable, Jesus used hyperbole to emphasize the power of something very small. The question in this parable is whether the yeast is a metaphor for a bad or a good thing.
Judas wasn’t the only one who betrayed Jesus that Thursday night. With his three denials, Peter also betrayed our Lord. Both men were filled with remorse but neither man could undo what had been done. One never lost faith and hung in there; the other lost faith and hung himself. One stayed around for the resurrection to see the living Christ and to experience Jesus’ forgiveness; the other missed his opportunity for redemption when he gave up all hope. One became the humble willing servant of the Lord and the rock of the church; the other one’s name lives on in ignominy and is synonymous with betrayal and treason.
Our sons recently visited to celebrate their father’s birthday. As I watched them work their culinary magic in the kitchen, I marveled at how the boys who once thought Kraft mac n’ cheese to be haute cuisine became gourmet cooks. For that matter, when did they get so tall or those wrinkles appear around their eyes? At what point did the tow-headed boy’s hair darken and start receding or his brother’s turn grey? The changes I observed weren’t just physical. As we talked, I wondered when my once irresponsible boys became so sensible and wise. None of it happened overnight and yet each little change was so subtle it barely was noticed. But, when I thought back to the children and young adults they once were, the change was enormous.
As we came together in worship, each of us bringing the Lord our own private sins, sorrows, doubts, and fears, the hymn’s words, “Just as I am… I come, I come,” seemed a fitting way to start the service. Because its heartfelt words are so relatable, Just as I Am is one of my favorite hymns. Curious about its origin, I learned that its words were written by a Victorian hymn writer named Charlotte Elliott. The daughter of an evangelist, she suffered a serious illness at the age of 32 that left her an invalid for the rest of her life. Angry about what she perceived as uselessness because of her disability, Elliott became severely depressed and spiritually lost. After a visiting minister counseled her to come to Jesus, she asked how she could come to Him when all she had was her anger, sadness, questions, and broken body. The clergyman’s response was simple: “Come to Him just as you are.” Although she gave her life to Christ at that time, she continued to be plagued by depression.
Devotions of the Heart 