A Brief History of Universalism: Jesus’ particularism
Jesus Christ, loving everyone with a universal love, educates us in the permanent recognition of the dignity of every human being, without exception. In fact, when we speak of “infinite and transcendent dignity,” we wish to emphasize that the most decisive value possessed by the human person surpasses and sustains every other juridical consideration that can be made to regulate life in society. Thus, all the Christian faithful and people of good will are called upon to consider the legitimacy of norms and public policies in the light of the dignity of the person and his or her fundamental rights, not vice versa.
[…]
The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating constantly on the parable of the “Good Samaritan” (cf. Lk 10:25-37), that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.
“I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
—Matthew 15:24
Jesus and the early church sit at a pivotal moment for the development of universalism in the West. The modern church, whether Catholic or Protestant, has adopted a thorough moral universalism. This was exemplified by Pope Francis’ rebuke earlier this year to Vice President J.D. Vance on immigration and the proper interpretation of ordo amoris. For Francis, Christianity is “a fraternity open to all”.
And yet Jesus himself was a Jewish preacher whose mission focused only on the Jews, and who at one point said, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” If Jesus is the universalist that Francis believes him to be, this is a curious thing to say. How does this apparent contradiction get resolved? I am going to make the argument that, from the evidence of the Gospels, it is Francis that is mistaken. The universalism of Christianity does not begin with Jesus.
In the previous essay we saw the roots of modern universalism developing in a Hellenised Mediterranean and in the civic identity of the Roman Empire. But Roman syncretism, so effective in drawing other cultures into the Roman cultural framework, had hit a brick wall at Judaism. The explicit and strict monotheism of the Jews meant that their god couldn’t be incorporated into the Roman pantheon in the way that others had. Even with the conquest in 63 BC of the Hasmonean kingdom – a Jewish state centred on Judea but encompassing surrounding areas including Galilee, where Jesus spends his early life – that separate identity remained a thorn in the side of the Roman Empire. And that identity remained distinct and coherent even among the many Jews of the diaspora who were geographically spread throughout the Roman Empire.
The Jewish covenant was between their god and their people in their land. Even in exile and diaspora, the connection to the land of Israel remains central to the covenant. This particularism to people and place wasn’t anything unusual for the period: Your relationship with your god was not a matter of personal choice and faith as we might imagine today, but rather came about through your ethnicity or tribe. Within the Roman Empire, civic cults, initiatory mystery religions, and professional guilds might have offered alternative paths to a relationship with a god, but the predominant mode of religion was still as a relationship between a god and a people. This is the context in which Jesus began his work as a preacher, a Jew preaching among the Jews of Galilee and then Judea.
In the Gospels, there are only two points where Jesus performs miracles for the benefit of gentiles: once for a Roman centurion and once for a Syrophoenician woman. And rather than demonstrating Jesus’ universalism, in some respects they do the opposite.
The encounter with the Syrophoenician woman is recounted in Matthew 15:
21 Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. 22 Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” 23 But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” 24 He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” 25 But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” 26 He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 27 She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” 28 Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed from that moment.
Jesus praises the woman’s faith. There is a blandly pleasant idea that Jesus is praising the woman’s religious faith in an abstract sense – and this is what you will see emphasised in Christian exegesis – and yet that pleasant idea seems not to be supported by the text. The words that persuade Jesus of her faith are her acceptance of the gentiles’ position as dogs at the master’s table. The Greek text uses the diminutive, indicating puppies or pets, but nonetheless the hierarchy is clear, and the woman’s faith is indicated by her acceptance of it.
Furthermore, there is no suggestion that the woman’s reply has changed Jesus’ mind and that he is willing to broaden his mission in any serious way – merely that such a mission is not incompatible with scattering a few crumbs to the gentile dogs.
The encounter with the centurion is recounted in Luke 7:
1 After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. 2 A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly and who was ill and close to death. 3 When he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave. 4 When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him earnestly, saying, “He is worthy to have you do this for him, 5 for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.” 6 And Jesus went with them, but when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; 7 therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. 8 For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and the slave does it.” 9 When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and, turning to the crowd following him, he said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” 10 When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.
Before Jesus performs the miracle, the Jewish elders feel compelled to vouch that the centurion has demonstrated his love of the Jewish people by building a synagogue. And the centurion himself says that he is unworthy to have Jesus come under his roof – a supplication that fellow Jews did not had to make to Jesus. And though Jesus performs the miracle, he says nothing to contradict the centurion on this point.
These stories in which Jesus crosses ethnic boundaries to perform miracles have been used to argue that Jesus’ mission was universalist, but instead they seem to be the exception that proves the rule – and proves it forcefully. Given the way that the Syrophoenician woman and the Roman centurion abase themselves before the Jews, which Jesus either encourages or does nothing to gainsay, it seems like Jesus is pursuing something much more like a Jewish renewal mission, and perhaps even Jewish supremacism.
As we saw at the start of this essay, the parable of the Good Samaritan is what Pope Francis uses as the heart of his argument for a universalist interpretation of Christianity. It is viewed as a lesson about neighbourly relations crossing ethnic boundaries; that if Jesus would encourage the Jews to consider the despised Samaritans as neighbours, then the concept of neighbour is open to everyone.
The parable of the Good Samaritan is related in Luke 10 as follows:
25 An expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” 27 He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself.” 28 And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”
29 But wanting to vindicate himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and took off, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan while traveling came upon him, and when he saw him he was moved with compassion. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, treating them with oil and wine. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him, and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 36 Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
The Samaritans are commonly remembered simply as a people whom the Jews disliked, and thus the parable is interpreted as a call to love those from different groups than yourself, no matter how much you might be inclined to dislike them. But that is a somewhat incomplete understanding of the relationship between Jews and Samaritans, and one that invites misunderstandings of the parable.
The Samaritans are descendants of Israelites scattered by the Assyrian conquest of the Northern Kingdom of Israel in 722 BC. They regarded themselves as following the religion of the Israelites no less than the Jews did. There are some differences in their religion: they worship at the temple on Mount Gerizim, for example, rather than in Jerusalem; and they regard only the Pentateuch as authoritative, not the prophets and other writings that form the Tanakh.
It is true that the relationship between Jews and Samaritans by the time of Jesus is one of mutual antagonism, and that is what gives the parable its sting. But it is a particular type of antagonism: Both saw themselves as the true inheritors of the Israelite faith, and we can easily imagine how the conflict over that question would sharpen their enmity. They are not regarded as gentiles, but at the same time they are clearly not Jews. Instead they occupy an awkward middle ground, more like heretics than heathens.
The quote, “love your neighbour as yourself” comes from Leviticus 19:18. Even though Jesus is reframing Leviticus in a way that may be shocking to Jews at the time, he is not claiming to rewrite it entirely. (In the Sermon on the Mount, by contrast, he makes a series of “you have heard it said… yet I say to you…” constructions, but he is not doing that here.) He is claiming authority from Leviticus, and so as we try to understand Jesus, we should interpret this as closely in line with Leviticus’ original meaning as possible rather than drawing wholly new lessons from it.
In Leviticus, the word that we translate as “neighbour” denotes specifically other members of the Israelite tribe. The text lays out how Israelites should behave both among themselves and with foreigners, making it clear that the instruction to love your neighbour is specifically about fellow Israelites. (Leviticus 19:34 also says: “The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt,” but it is notable that neither Jesus nor the lawyer are quoting that part.)
As well as understanding the position of the Samaritans, we should also consider the positions of the priest and the Levite: The Tribe of Levi are the religious caste of the Israelites. Instead of being given land they were given religious duties, because “the Lord is their inheritance” (Deuteronomy 18:2). The priest is one of the Kohanim – a subset of the Levites descended from Aaron, brother of Moses. The lawyer has quoted from Leviticus, and the Levites are the very people who should be upholding its laws.
With all of that in mind, I would approach the parable in this way:
The behaviour of the Samaritan should be read in the context of the laws laid down in Leviticus – laws which the Samaritans would consider themselves bound by no less than the Jews. The Samaritan is not simply being good in some abstract sense, but rather he is following specifically the laws for neighbourly behaviour between Israelites. Therefore, following the laws of the Israelites is more important for your standing as an Israelite than your rank within society.
The sharp irony in the story that Jesus chooses to tell – that the Levites who should be upholding the laws of Leviticus are the ones who fail to do so, while the theologically incorrect Samaritan does a better job – suggests that the parable is intended as a criticism of those with high positions in Jewish society who fail to follow the law correctly. It suggests that the comparison with the Samaritan shames the priest and the Levite rather than elevating the Samaritan.
The idea that this parable means that we should extend charity to everyone unconditionally is, at best, one interpretation among many. If we take Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophoenician woman seriously, then it’s hard to sustain the reading that it is trying to bridge ethnic boundaries. And if Jesus had intended to convey that meaning then he could have made it the parable of the Good Roman or of the Good Canaanite – and yet he did not.
Early in his mission, Jesus instructs his disciples (Matthew 10):
5 These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not take a road leading to gentiles, and do not enter a Samaritan town, 6 but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 7 As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’
Christian tradition holds that the Jews were an insular people and that it was unthinkable to them to proselytise to non-Jews. In the narrative of Christianity, it was Jesus and his teachings (and in particular, the new covenant created by his death and resurrection) that opened up the door to gentile inclusion. But it would only make sense for Jesus to explicitly prohibit going to the gentiles if he thought that the disciples were considering doing precisely that. If going among the gentiles were genuinely unthinkable to the disciples then it would have been bizarre for Jesus to prohibit it. The straightforward reading here is that Jesus is the conservative figure in this interaction.
Consider also the Samaritan leper (Luke 17):
11 On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he entered a village, ten men with a skin disease approached him. Keeping their distance, 13 they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” 14 When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. 15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. 16 He prostrated himself at Jesus’s feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? So where are the other nine? 18 Did none of them return to give glory to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”
Ten people are healed, but what rankles for Jesus is that nine Jews have been put to shame by a Samaritan. For someone who is telling us that we can bridge ethnic divides, those ethnic divides remain surprisingly salient.
After Jesus dies and is resurrected, he appears to the disciples. Matthew 28 reports the final words that he says to them:
16 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17 When they saw him, they worshiped him, but they doubted. 18 And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19 Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit 20 and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
This instruction has come to be known as the Great Commission. It has traditionally been understood as a clear statement of Christianity’s universalist intent, and seems to be an unambiguous commandment to take the message to the gentiles.
However, we have reason to doubt ourselves in this understanding: Who should have had the clearest understanding of what Jesus was commanding? Perhaps those there present when it was said. We should look to the actions of the disciples in interpreting what was said to them.
Peter is one of the most prominent of Jesus’ disciples. When Jesus first meets him, he says: “You are Simon, son of John. You are to be called Cephas.” Cephas is Aramaic for rock, and among the Greeks he was known by the Greek word for rock, petros (Peter). After meeting Jesus, Peter stays with him for the rest of his ministry until – as Jesus predicts – Peter denies knowing him three times after Jesus is arrested. But he sees Jesus again after the resurrection, and is present for the Great Commission.
For at least five years and maybe a decade after Jesus’ death and resurrection, all of Peter’s work is with Jewish converts to Christianity, with no suggestion of speaking with gentiles. Neither did any of the other disciples preach to gentiles. And then, when a God-fearing gentile, Cornelius, had sent some men to call for him, Peter recieves a vision (Acts 10):
9 About noon the next day, as they were on their journey and approaching the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray. 10 He became hungry and wanted something to eat, and while it was being prepared he fell into a trance. 11 He saw the heaven opened and something like a large sheet coming down, being lowered to the ground by its four corners. 12 In it were all kinds of four-footed creatures and reptiles and birds of the air. 13 Then he heard a voice saying, “Get up, Peter; kill and eat.” 14 But Peter said, “By no means, Lord, for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean.” 15 The voice said to him again, a second time, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” 16 This happened three times, and the thing was suddenly taken up to heaven.
Peter goes with the men to Cornelius.
27 And as he talked with him, he went in and found that many had assembled, 28 and he said to them, “You yourselves know that it is improper for a Jew to associate with or to visit an outsider, but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean. 29 So when I was sent for, I came without objection. Now may I ask why you sent for me?”
And Peter speaks to the assembled group of gentiles.
44 While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. 45 The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the gentiles, 46 for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter said, 47 “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” 48 So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they invited him to stay for several days.
We can see here that the “circumcised believers” do not expect to include gentiles into the religion – but furthermore, nor does Peter before he has the vision. Peter was one of Jesus’ closest disciples and still this vision about gentile inclusion was news to him.
We have to take a moment here to reflect on how strange this is: Peter was one of the disciples present as Jesus spoke the Great Commission. Jesus had to return from the dead in order to say it. But neither Peter nor any of the other disciples then present understood it to mean that they should go and preach to gentiles. Furthermore, it seems that nothing that Jesus said during his life prepared Peter for this understanding either – not the Parable of the Good Samaritan, not his miracles for the Syrophoenician woman nor the Roman centurion. Instead it required a direct revelation from God.
Those closest to Jesus throughout his life never thought that he was preparing them to preach to the gentiles. This should be evidence that Jesus was in fact not preparing them to preach to the gentiles.
This is intended to be an essay series on the history of moral universalism, and I’ve just argued that, contra Pope Francis, Jesus himself would not have considered himself a part of that history. Instead, whenever the question came up, he took the conservative path. It seems that he was pursuing a Jewish renewal project, perhaps open to the Samaritans as fellow Israelites, but still assuming an exclusive relationship between their god and their people.
And so we find ourselves again facing the question motivating this whole essay series: where did this universalism come from? In the next essay we will explore the role that Paul played in re-shaping the direction of the Christian church away from Jewish particularism, and in a way that drew greatly from the Roman Empire.