Learning Jesus

Introduction

I have written two books on Jesus as a teacher. The first book was entitled, Rabbi Jesus. . .Learning from the Master Teacher.¹ I explored five teaching styles of Jesus as a Charismatic Teacher, a Subversive Sage, a Transforming Teacher, a Lover of Questions, and a Risen Rabbi. My second book was entitled, PeaceTeacher: Jesus’ Way of Shalom.² I followed Jesus’ life-stages as the Gospels present him as the Anticipated PeaceTeacher, the Compassionate PeaceTeacher, the Lenten PeaceTeacher, and the Resurrected PeaceTeacher.

Clearly, Jesus as a teacher has been very important to my understanding of him. Yet, many scholars, preachers, and Christians have minimized Jesus as teacher, as if it detracts from his role as Savior. New Testament scholar Marcus Borg summarizes his issues with viewing Jesus primarily as a teacher by saying, The problem with ‘Jesus as teacher’ is not that it’s wrong, but that it’s shallow.³ I take serious issue with this critique. The only thing shallow about Jesus as teacher is if we limit the role to the first century. Jesus is still the teacher of the church and of his followers today.

It was over ten years ago when this question captured my attention: Was Jesus a learner? I realized that my focus had been upon Jesus as a teacher, but I had never asked or explored whether he was a learner. It has been a question that has enthralled me for the past decade. I first discovered that the two foci are integrally related, as teaching and learning always are. And then I discovered that Jesus as a learner raises many interesting core questions as to his identity and calling. We will explore these in the second chapter of this book.

Yet, there is one abiding related truth: great teachers are first great learners. Teachers aren’t just scholars who have mastered the facts; they teach their students the love of learning—something one can only teach if first personally experienced. There are no exceptions. Jesus wasn’t just a Wise Sage who couldn’t be bothered with students. That is why he said to his disciples, You are all students. (Matt. 23:8) And why he grew so excited when his disciples showed evidence of learning. (Matt. 16:17)

The greatest teacher in my young years was Jim Ward. He taught English and drama in my high school. He was an imaginative, demanding, and insightful teacher. And nothing brought out his love of learning more than halfway through his senior World Literature Class as he introduced the novel, The Brothers Karamazov. He became animated and excited as he introduced this Russian author to a group of high school students from the Ozarks, during the height of the Cold War, no less! One of the most outstanding early experiences I had as a student was later in that semester, after we had moved on, when I was with Mr. Ward in a setting outside school. I don’t recall what happened but I likened the experience to one that happened in the Karamazov book and offered my insight about it. You would have thought I had just revealed one of life’s deepest secrets. Mr. Ward was so excited because as teacher and student we could enjoy, for a brief conversation, a more level playing field where we could teach and learn together! It is a great teacher who can inspire students in this way—as great learners together! Jesus surrounded himself with such a learning community!

If Jesus was an amazing teacher, did he not also have to be an amazing learner? This led to the question: Do the Gospels depict Jesus as a learner? Do the Gospels ever say, Jesus learned something today? If not, why would they have hesitated? As I studied the Gospels more closely, I began to recognize assumptions and experiences, here and there, affirming that Jesus indeed was a learner.

Finally, I asked myself: Does this really matter? If Jesus was a learner, is it important? And I have reached the conclusion that it matters a great deal.

The church has had different perspectives on Christology since it’s beginning. Certainly Paul’s perspective steered the church in a particular direction within twenty years after Jesus’ life. Paul focused almost exclusively on Jesus’ death and resurrection, while the Gospel writers felt a need to introduce Jesus from his Galilean/Palestinian roots.

I’m wondering if we aren’t entering a new era of Christology, one that poses an Arrived Jesus vs. a Becoming Jesus. The differences in these two perspectives are startling in their implications. An Arrived Jesus had already arrived at God’s destiny for his life from the beginning. He perfectly followed God’s script from the manger to the cross. An Arrived Jesus floats about a foot above the earth.

A Becoming Jesus had to make the journey. He had to find his way from here to there. He began as a helpless infant. And during his growing up years in Nazareth, his fellow townspeople apparently did not recognize a halo over his head or the emergence of the anticipated Messiah.

Like all of us, the Becoming Jesus had to grow into God’s destiny for his life. He had to make choices, he had to unlearn some biases that were part of his Nazarene upbringing, he had to cross barriers and boundaries, until, he was finally able in the midst of his ministry to embrace what God was calling him to do and be.

The title of this book affirms this: there was a learning Jesus, just as there was a teaching Jesus. But it also has a second meaning I will explore at the end of this book: we aren’t called to be experts on Jesus’ life, but we are called to learn Jesus. It is no longer an adjective but now a verb. And the way we learn Jesus is absolutely unique to Christianity.

I begin by telling stories, as if in Jesus’ own voice, about 27 experiences of his life and what he learned from them. These stories are best if read or told out-loud. Through stories we can more easily discover Learning Jesus—in both meanings of the term.

Stephen Jones

Kansas City, Missouri

1

. Peake Road/Smyth and Helwys, Macon, Georgia,

1997

2

. Baptist Peace Fellowship of North America, Charlotte, North Carolina,

2011

3

. Borg, Jesus, Uncovering the Life, Teachings and Relevance of a Religious Revolutionary,

14

.

Chapter One

Stories of Jesus Learning

First-person stories, told from Jesus’ perspective, of events from the four Gospels that reveal his pilgrimage as a learner.

Jesus’ mother treasured all these things in her heart.

—Luke 2:51b

My Home Had a Secret

My home had a secret. A well-kept secret. I’m not sure how old I was when I became aware of it. I guess old enough to learn not to speak of this with my friends in the village of Nazareth. You must understand that keeping a secret in a small village is really a challenge! Everyone knows everyone else’s business. Your missteps are the conversation of the village for weeks. And every child has missteps growing up. It’s how you learn. It’s how you mature. It’s how you grow. It’s humanly impossible to painlessly navigate every crossroad or challenge.

I think this secret held in our little trio in our home, mom, dad, and me, likely delayed my parents having another child, for my next oldest sibling, James, was born seven years later. How would another sibling be added to the secret? And since the secret was about me, and about my identity and my calling, how could a second or third sibling be expected to keep it?

My father wasn’t a big talker. He was good with his hands. He was the village carpenter. He could build or design anything. When working, he spoke few words and didn’t like to be interrupted. I asked lots of questions. It was his deep desire that I learn from him, so that I could take over the carpentry business. So, he conversed with me more than anyone else. But we talked mostly about wood. As my father got older, I was his helper lifting big pieces of wood into place while he honed each piece to his high standards. Nothing was sloppy or mediocre in my father’s shop.

So while our family secret was held by my father, he rarely spoke about it with me. That was my mother’s role. Everyone in the village respected my mother. I knew that from the youngest age. It was obvious in the way women and men interacted with her. Had the synagogue been a place where women could vocalize their faith, my mother would have been a leader. Instead, she found ways to express her faith behind the scenes, with other women, but even, in private, with men in the village whom she trusted and even more important, who trusted her. Many neighbors regularly sought her counsel. Eventually, my mother became a de facto spiritual leader in Nazareth. It was better that no one stated this out-loud.

It didn’t surprise anyone that I showed spiritual aptitude from my earliest years. No one would expect anything less from Mary’s son. My mother would sing psalms while washing clothes, sweeping the house, preparing meals—she seemed to be praying or singing psalms unceasingly. She never did it for show. My father and I were the only ones to see the depth of her devotion to God. She taught me, When you pray, Jesus, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Mt 6:6) Throughout my life, I followed my mother’s example and found private places to pray.

Nazareth was an out of the way village and people rarely traveled through Nazareth. King Herod was building one of his new cities from the dirt up just a few miles down the road from us. And that is where all the action was. Not in Nazareth.

We Nazarenes kept to ourselves and turned our back, as best we could, on Herod’s designs down the road. We did not want to be corrupted by his worldly influences.

Our ability to turn inward was how our family kept our secret. My mother told me, Jesus, at your birth, your father and I separately had visions, like a visit from an angelic messenger. I naturally exploded with questions, dozens of them, but mother was measured with her answers. And always, whenever she would reveal anything about my birth, she would remind me of our family secret. Tell no one, she would say. I would respond, But, mother, if what you are saying is true, isn’t this wonderful? Isn’t God awesome? Won’t my friends want to know? And she would look sternly at me. Wonderful? Yes, Jesus. Awesome? Yes our God is awesome. But tell no one, Jesus.

Mother, I asked one day, is it good to keep this a secret? She responded, Nothing is hidden that will not someday be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not, in God’s good time, come to light. (Luke 8:17) She continued, But if we testify about ourselves, it seems we are seeking honor for ourselves. Rather, in good time, you will seek to honor God with your call. (John 7:18)

As I got older she explained why my family kept this secret. She said, People in our village would resent it if they felt you were more special than other children. They would resent our family. They would pick on you and you would be miserable. It’s for your own protection, Jesus. I want you to have a loving childhood in a normal home, even though God has extraordinary plans for you. Of that, I am certain. And in God’s good time, when your Father in heaven knows you are ready, then you will begin your public ministry. But only in God’s good time, Jesus, not ours. Another time she spoke again, Right now, your work is to learn the Torah. Learn it well. As the prophet Jeremiah said, ‘I will put my law within them and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God and they will be my people.’ (Jer 31:33b) But even more important, Jesus, learn God! Learn about your heavenly Father. Learn to speak with him. Learn to listen to him. You cannot do what God has called you to do unless you and the Father are one.

So, we kept the family secret. James, too, and my other siblings, kept the secret. Mother was amazing at bringing all of them into our circle of trust.

When I became a man, I continued to live in Nazareth and I took my rightful place in the synagogue. I remember the first time I was asked to read from the Torah. And the first time I expounded on it. My father was so nervous because these were roles that made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t a strong reader so he was seldom asked.

But the other men in the synagogue were impressed that such a young man had these insights. They would look at each other, and out of my father’s hearing they would say, knowingly, Mary. I was Mary’s son. I learned carpentry from my father and faith from my mother. Certainly the ability to articulate, to teach, to ask questions, to seek God in the midst of life’s daily realities.

And I grew in wisdom, in stature, and I was held in favor by my fellow Nazarenes (Luke 2:40), no doubt because my family knew how to keep a secret.

Jesus at Twelve (Luke 2:4—51)

There is no more special occasion for a Jewish family than when the first-born son becomes a man. In my day, this is celebrated during the lad’s 12th year, assuming he has completed his Hebrew and Torah studies in his local synagogue. And there is no better place for this rite of passage to occur than in the Temple in Jerusalem. They say the Temple is one of the celebrated wonders of the world, glistening in its gold dome in the Jerusalem sun. The first time I saw it, it took my breath away. I had never seen anything so grand. I’d heard the grumblings about Herod who built it, and the many peasants who were taxed so unjustly to raise the funds for it and the many slaves and builders who worked for next to nothing to create it. Still, nearly completed when I was a child, it was a wonder!

On our 12th birthdays, young boys are invited to come to the Temple to meet the scholars of the nation, and to read publicly from the Torah. Fear surpassing all fears, if any scholar decides to ask you a question or to probe your understanding of the Scripture you have read.

When my parents took me to Jerusalem for this occasion, the scholars handed me the book of Genesis, and I read to the elders the story of Noah. Of course, I was nervous. I had never stood before such an impressive group of scholars. There isn’t opportunity for anything like this in southern Galilee.

After reading Noah’s story in Hebrew, one scholar asked, Tell me, lad, of what village do you come? And I responded, I am Jesus of Nazareth. He responded with a wry smile on his face, Nazareth? Has anyone here ever been to Nazareth? Not one hand was raised, but he did raise a fair amount of laughter over the prospect of my coming from such a lonely outpost. He concluded, No, I didn’t think so! So, tell me, Jesus of Nazareth, what is your thought about what you have just read to our solemn assembly?

I paused just a moment, and then gave him my honest opinion. That’s what my father said I should do. I said to the assembly, I think it shows that God is capable of changing His mind, of relating to mortals in a new way. There was stunned silence.

God is capable of changing His mind? Is that your response, Jesus of Nazareth? Are you sure of this, lad?

You may correct me, to be sure, my Lord. But from what I read, God gave a new promise to those who dwell on earth. God said that He would never destroy the earth again, and He gave us the rainbow as a sign of this promise. Every time I see the rainbow over the skies of Nazareth, I am reminded that no matter how wicked we become or how far we have strayed from God’s will, God will not destroy the earth again.

As I was speaking, a growing crowd of scholars walked toward me, encircling me. I couldn’t tell whether they were upset by my answer or simply wanted more dialogue. The same scholar asked, Who taught you these things, Jesus of Nazareth?

I answered, Well, no one, really, sir. It seemed obvious from the story itself. God related to us one way up to Noah’s time, and a different way after Noah. It was His promise to all of us.

He pursued his question, But have you not read in the Torah, ‘Do not add to what I command you and do not subtract from it, but keep the commands of the LORD your God that I give you.’ (Deut 4:2). Another scholar joined him, And did not the Psalmist say, ‘The LORD exists forever; your word is firmly fixed in heaven. Your faithfulness endures to all generations.’ (Ps 119:89) Surely you do not believe that the Lord of the Torah and of the Psalms has changed?" He seemed certain to silence me with these thoughts.

I responded, The Torah of God does not change. The commandments of God do not change. God’s faithfulness is constant. But does that mean that God cannot continue to speak to us? Is God doomed to only repeat Himself?

Another scribe joined in my argument, "This young lad speaks wisely, with amazing insight. God changed His