“Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” (Matthew 13:55)

Mainstream Christianity is divided on the understanding of this verse  and its parallel in Mark 6:3. Roman Catholics and Orthodox Christians, as well as some Anglicans and Lutherans,  believe the brothers and sisters mentioned were in fact Jesus’ cousins, or children of Joseph by a former marriage, and that Mary remained a virgin throughout her life. The main argument for this view is that the Greek word adelphos used in this scripture can also sometimes be used in a broader sense meaning step-siblings or cousins.

Most Protestants believe that as there is no indication in scripture of this former marriage, it is better to understand sisters and brothers as literal siblings.  They argue that although adelphos can sometimes mean  “cousin,”  its normal use is “brother,” and the actual word for “cousin” in Greek  (anepsios) is never used of any of Jesus’ family members.   If the children mentioned as being with Mary in Matthew 13:55 were from a former marriage of Joseph,  those brothers and sisters are not mentioned when Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem, or to Egypt, or returned to Nazareth.
 
Another argument  sometimes proposed  in this context is that in three of the Gospels, when  Jesus is told, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you,” he replied: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (Matthew 12:46-50; Mark 3:31-35; Luke 8:19-21). This is sometimes said to show that Jesus’ brothers and sisters were just disciples, but the scriptures are clearly speaking metaphorically.  In fact, the apostle John wrote that Jesus “… went down to Capernaum with his mother, his brothers, and his disciples …” (John 2:12), and here Jesus’ actual family members are clearly distinguished from his disciples.  

A final issue to consider is that Protestants believe other scriptures such as  Matthew 1:25 which says of Joseph, “ But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son…” and Luke 2:7 which says of Mary: “and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son” indicate Jesus’ brothers and sisters were physical siblings. By the second century, this was the position of  some members of the early Church such as Tertullian (c. AD 160-225), whereas others believed in the perpetual virginity of Mary.
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Yet ultimately far more important than any theological or historical discussion of whether Jesus did have siblings is the fact that the Son of God now does have brothers and sisters.  The Book of Hebrews tells us that we who follow Jesus since his resurrection  become his brothers and sisters in the family of God:  “Both the one who makes people holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters. He says, ‘I will declare your name to my brothers and sisters…’” (Hebrews 2:11-12).  It is clear that those with whom we share fellowship in Christ are now his brothers and sisters, as well as ours.

The story of the rich man and Lazarus found in the Gospel of Luke (Luke 16:19-31) is one which often confuses people.  Is it a parable, or is it meant to reflect actual events?  Theologians have often argued this question, but knowledge of the culture in which Jesus lived and taught can help us answer it.

Jesus’ story, in summary, tells us that a very rich man ignored the poor man Lazarus who lay outside his gate each day. When both men died we are told that Lazarus was “… carried by the angels to Abraham’s side” (vs. 22), while the rich man found himself in a different place: “In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side” (vs. 23).

Those who see this account as a literal one recording actual events feel that it obviously refers to Lazarus being in heaven and the rich man in hell.  But there are problems with this view.  If it records actual facts, then the dead are able to speak despite their torment and can converse with those in heaven, and vice-versa (vss. 23-31).  Apparently, a single drop of water would also relieve the burning torment of someone in hell (vs. 24).   This situation is in contradiction to several statements that we find in the Old Testament (Psalm 115:17, Ecclesiastes 9:5, etc.), so we must ask why would Jesus flatly contradict these scriptures? 

On the other hand, although it is sometimes claimed that the story is unlikely to be a parable because it has a named character (Lazarus) – something that we do not find in the parables – there may be a reason for this instance of naming.  By telling us the rich man asks that Lazarus bring him water and go to warn his family, the story indicates that he knows who Lazarus is and therefore must have known him and been fully aware of his need during his lifetime. This is a way of specifically showing the rich man’s guilt.

Furthermore, Luke introduces this story of the rich man and Lazarus in exactly the same way he introduces the parables that precede it. All of them are introduced either with the formula “what man/woman …” or “there was a man/woman …” (Luke 15:3, 8, 11; 16:1). There is, in fact, nothing about the story of the rich man and the poor man that cannot be seen as a parable.

This is especially true as the story of the rich man and Lazarus fits into a sequence of parables and sayings on the same subject: the use and misuse of money.  After giving the parable of the prodigal son, Jesus gave the parable of the shrewd manager and then the story of the rich man and Lazarus. In this, the final climactic story of this group, Jesus gives an example of the principle that we cannot serve God and money, as he stressed a few verses earlier (Luke 16:13).

But even if the story of the rich man and Lazarus is a parable, we must still ask why it contradicts clear statements found in the Old Testament.  For the answer to this we must look again at the context of the parable.  Luke tells us: “Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus.  But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’ Then Jesus told them this parable…” (Luke 15:1-3).

This is the setting in which Jesus began the following four parables – including the story of the rich man and Lazarus.  The direct audience for the parables was not the crowds he frequently taught, but a group of Pharisees.  Although Luke shows that Jesus switched his attention and directed one of the parables toward his disciples (Luke 16:1), he then continued to speak to the Pharisees as we read: “The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all this and were sneering at Jesus. He said to them …” (Luke 16:14-15, emphasis added).   It was at this point, after some initial comments, that Jesus gave the story of the rich man.

This story was specifically aimed at the Pharisees. Jesus not only mentioned the futility of riches and Abraham (to whom the Pharisees looked for their eligibility for salvation – John 8:39), but also structured the story according to the teachings and beliefs of the Pharisees themselves.  Although the priestly Sadducees said that there was no resurrection and no angels (Acts 23:8), we know that the Pharisees believed in angels and in the resurrection, both of which Jesus referenced in the story (Luke 16:22, 31). They believed in human spirits that existed after death and would, on the last day, be bodily resurrected. But the Pharisees also believed in concepts of heaven and hell that were essentially like what we find in the story of the rich man and Lazarus.  

It is highly significant that when we read of Jesus talking to the priestly Sadducees he never discusses this idea of a tortuous hell – it was something they did not believe in.  But when Jesus talked with the Pharisees he used this kind of graphic example of the kind of ongoing tortuous separation from God in which they believed.  Jesus knew the teachings of the Pharisees well (Matthew 23:25-28, etc.) and put them to use in correcting the Pharisees themselves.
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The story of the rich man and Lazarus is a parable then, but it is one given for the ears of the Pharisees and given “in their language,” according to their theology, in a way that they would get the point of the parable without getting caught up in arguing the theological aspects of the story itself.  

No one can read the book of Revelation of without noticing the apostle John’s frequent mention of groups of seven: seven churches, seven plagues, seven trumpets, etc.   The number seven was often used in ancient Near Eastern literature to connote completeness, and John continually uses the number with this symbolic meaning.  

Although they are somewhat less obvious because the individual instances are spread throughout the whole book, we also find John using many groups of seven in his Gospel. The apostle not only gives seven miraculous signs of Jesus’ messiahship and the seven famous “I AM” statements, but in the course of his Gospel he also speaks of seven witnesses, seven ways in which Jesus was one with God, and numerous other groups of seven.
  
These groups of seven in John’s Gospel and book of Revelation obviously represent an intrinsic aspect of the apostle’s writing and are well-known.  But what of the epistles of John?  Given the deeply embedded nature of groups of seven in his other writings, should we not expect to find groups of seven in the apostle’s letters also?  In fact, we can. Although they are not as well known, John’s epistles contain several groups of seven that are helpful in understanding the key elements in his messages.

Although the overwhelmingly clear themes of love and truth are central to John’s letters, it is interesting that he also employs "heptadic" or seven-fold groups – just as he does in his Gospel and Revelation – that reveal other themes, especially in his first epistle.  John not only gives seven reasons why this epistle was written (1 John 1:3, 4; 2:1, 13-17, 21-24, 26; 5:13), but also structures his message around key seven-fold concepts.

The first concept we find is that of the contrast between good and evil.  We all tend to notice this contrast in what John writes at the beginning of his epistle regarding  spiritual light vs. spiritual darkness (1:5-7), but John specifically points out six other areas in which right and wrong are juxtaposed: love vs. hatred (2:9-11), the way of God vs. the way of the world (2:15-17), truth vs. lies (2:20-27), good works vs. evil works (2:29-3:24), the Spirit of God vs. the spirit of error (4:1-6), real love vs. fake love (4:7-21).  These seven contrasts form a running narrative throughout the apostles’ letter – as if he were stressing the spiritual duality we must constantly be aware of in all aspects of our lives.

John also gives us seven ways in which those who are born of God are contrasted with those who are not spiritually reborn (2:29; 3:9; 4:7; 5:1-21). These contrasts are, in a very real way, tests that we can apply to ourselves, and they are made yet more helpful because in the course of his letter John offers other contrasts in more specific areas – tests of doctrine (2:18-28, etc.), conduct (2:29-3:24, etc.), discernment (4:1-6, etc.), motivation (4:7-21, etc.), and other aspects of Christian genuineness.  

This is not to say that everything John writes in his first epistle is rigidly structured into groups of seven.  For example, the apostle also frequently uses of groups of three – three things that are in the world (2:16), three things that bear witness (5:7-8), three things we know (5:18-20), etc.  And we can certainly find other situations where John could have included a group of seven things, but does not – as when he speaks of six individuals who were notable liars, for example (1:6, 10; 2:4, 22; 4:20; 5:10).  

These exceptions only serve to make the many groups of seven found in 1 John even clearer, however.  When we look closely at the groups of seven John does include, we find that they are almost always groups of things that aim to show right vs. wrong in some way.  These “sevens” are almost always framed as contrasts and, as such, they offer valuable “tests” that we can apply to ourselves to determine our spiritual genuineness and health.
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This, of course, was John’s intent in writing to his original audience, but realizing that John utilized this technique in his letter, looking for his groups of seven, and applying them to ourselves can help us just as much today.    John doubtless intended his readers to notice and reflect on many of his sevens; doing so can add considerable depth to our study of his letter.  There are a great many reasons why 1 John is of great value to the Christian Church today, and John’s “sevens” give us more good reasons to look at this important epistle even more closely.
 
* For more information on 1 John and the other General Epistles, download our free eBook,  Seven Letters: Lessons from the General Epistles, here. 

Many people think of the “Lord’s Prayer” – the guide to prayer given by Jesus to his disciples (Matthew 6:9-13, Luke 11:2-4) – as something to be recited.  In this view, simply saying the words exactly as they are recorded in the scriptures constitutes what Jesus had in mind for the prayers of his followers.

However, this understanding of the “prayer” does not fit with the biblical evidence we have.  If the Lord’s Prayer constitutes the prayer Jesus taught his disciples, why do we not find it repeated at any other point in the New Testament – and why are all the recorded prayers given by his disciples after this point not the Lord’s Prayer?

The answer is doubtless that what we call the Lord’s Prayer was really an outline guide to the key subjects to be covered regularly in prayer. Once we realize this probability, we are able to understand many things about the prayer outline that we might otherwise miss. 

A key aspect in understanding the thrust and intent of the Lord’s Prayer is that not only does it record things to be said, but also – directly or indirectly – it records things we are to do. When we look at the seven petitions found within the prayer outline, we see that each one asks for God’s intervention or action in a sphere in which we are also expected to act.

This is most clearly seen in the petition “forgive us our debts/sins” which specifically states “as we forgive our debtors/them that sin against us” (Matthew 6:12).   We ask God’s forgiveness, understanding that it is linked to and to some degree dependent upon what we do.   Although this request is the only one that directly includes a statement of our responsibility within the prayer itself, the remaining petitions can be seen to imply responsibilities in the way that Jesus refers to them elsewhere in the Sermon on the Mount or in his other teachings.

This means that the petitions of the Lord’s Prayer are all balanced with responsibilities that can be paired like this:

“Hallowed be your name” – we must not dishonor God’s name in our speech or lives.
“Your kingdom come” – we must work for the establishment of the kingdom in our own lives and those of others.  
“Your will be done” - we must strive to fulfill God’s will in all aspects of our lives.
“Give us this day our daily bread” - we must work for our sustenance.
“Forgive us our debts” - we must forgive others if we are to be forgiven.
“Lead us not into temptation” - we must actively avoid tempting situations.
“Deliver us from evil” – we must do what we can to avoid or overcome evil.

Balancing what we ask God to perform and what we ourselves do is not the same as attempting to bolster our faith with works.  Rather, it is simply fulfilling the clear biblical injunctions that can be found on all these subjects. “Give us our daily bread,” for example, is balanced not only by the general teachings of Jesus (John 9:4, etc.), but also by the apostle Paul’s explicit statement that “The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat” (2 Thessalonians 3:10). Similarly, all the petitions of the Lord’s Prayer may be balanced with Christian teachings – positively or negatively expressed – regarding what we are to do or not do to fulfill our responsibility in each area.

The principle is simple enough and is somewhat humorously summed up in the old saying that “we cannot sow our wild oats, then pray for a crop failure.”  Our lives must match our prayers in each specific application.

This view of the Lord’s Prayer actually develops our trust in God far more than simply reciting its petitions and then “going our own way.”  Understanding that we play a role in the fulfillment of each petition helps us not only to pray for God’s action in the world, but also to pray for the specific help we need in fulfilling our own part.
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Ultimately, the Lord’s Prayer is not a simple list of requests that we can recite, then forget – it is a guide to asking God to fulfill his will in the area of every petition and to help us to fulfill our own part in what God intends. 

In his book The Cost of Discipleship, the theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously distinguishes between what he called “cheap grace” and “costly grace.” While Bonhoeffer defined cheap grace as requiring nothing from us and being ultimately meaningless, he characterized costly grace, on the other hand, as something that takes something from us, something that hurts, something that costs:  “the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him.”

Exactly the same can be said of Christian love.  Love that does not cost us anything ultimately accomplishes little and has little depth.  It is so often only costly love that makes a real difference in the lives of others. There is a wonderful example of this principle in the Gospel of Luke – though it is one that we often read over – in the story of Zacchaeus the tax collector:

Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through.  A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy.  He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.” Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham (Luke 19:1-9).

By way of back-story to this account, Luke tells us that as Jesus approached Jericho he healed a blind man at which the people praised God (Luke 18:35-42).  As he entered Jericho then, Jesus was a hero – beloved of the city’s inhabitants who had gone out to meet him as he approached.  But in Chapter 19 Luke tells us that Jesus was only passing through the town and that he declined to stay overnight. This doubtless disappointed many citizens, especially as Middle Eastern culture meant that as a teacher of God’s word (to say nothing of the fact that he was regarded as a famous prophet who healed by the power of God), Jesus doubtless would have been offered hospitality and would normally have accepted it. 

But as Jesus left Jericho, a strange scene unfolds.  Zacchaeus, the chief regional tax collector for the Roman occupation, desired to see Jesus and so he ran down the road a little way and climbed up a sycamore tree to get a better view.  The fact that it is mentioned that it was a sycamore tree is interesting as those trees usually have a profuse covering of large leaves and it is very possible that Zacchaeus chose the tree as one from which he could see Jesus as he passed by, but not be seen by crowds that thronged around the Teacher.

As the local tax collector and thus a “collaborator” in the eyes of many, Zacchaeus may well have been the most disliked individual in the city.  Tax collectors often charged far more than the actual Roman tax rates and pocketed the extra cash – as Luke tells us was true in this case (Luke 19:8). So positioning himself in the leafy tree might well have been a conscious and prudent decision on the part of Zacchaeus.  A hated tax collector caught in the swirl of a large crowd could easily come to harm.

Yet Luke tells us that when Jesus drew near to where the collaborator was, he called out and not only greeted the man, but openly stated that he would like to spend the night in his home.  We have to concentrate on this situation to really understand the effect of this behavior on the inhabitants of Jericho.  Not only had the teacher declined the hospitality of "decent" citizens, but now, after indicating he would not stay the night, he changed his mind in order to stay in the home of the most hated man in town. Not only was Zacchaeus hated, but as a tax collector he was “unclean” and anyone who entered his home, ate there, or stayed the night, would automatically also be made unclean.

The reaction of the crowd as recorded by Luke is understandable in these circumstances: “All the people saw this and began to mutter, ‘He has gone to be the guest of a sinner’” (Luke 19:7).  Because of his reaching out to Zacchaeus in love Jesus incurred the total displeasure of not just a few, but of “All the people.” The famous prophet and teacher, the beloved healer of one of their own citizens, instantly became an object of local displeasure and perhaps even anger and scorn.

Nevertheless, as Luke shows, the love that Jesus extended to the hated individual was repaid in the man’s true and thorough repentance and his promise to more than restore all of the excess money he had taken from his neighbors (Luke 19:8).  We must remember that Zacchaeus already knew the law of Moses, already knew that it was wrong to cheat and steal.  It was not hearing an exposition of the law that changed the tax collector, but seeing the demonstration of love that Jesus made to him.  Zacchaeus was moved and transformed by that love, but it was not free.  Jesus immediately paid a price for the expression of his love, but he did so knowing full well that the cost of real love is often high.