Unconditional

Magis Christ Wiki - Why Believe in Jesus?

© Robert J. Spitzer, S.J., Ph.D./Magis Institute July 2011

Is God Unconditional Love? – Jesus’ Words

Introduction

In the foregoing five Units, we examined the mind’s reasons for Jesus as Emmanuel – looking carefully at the historical evidence and rationale that led the early Church to proclaim Him to be the divine and eternal Son of the Father. Yet the heart also has its reasons for affirming Jesus as Emmanuel, and these reasons open upon different avenues of insight – the affection of God, compassion of God, forgiveness of God, and above all, the unconditional love of God. Thus, the heart’s reasons form a necessary complementarity and synergy with the mind’s reasons, giving the mind’s reasons affective depth and relationship with God.

Why is it so important to believe that Jesus is Emmanuel? Because, if He is, then His preaching about His and the Father’s unconditional love is true. This means the Father really did send His Son into the world, not to condemn it, but to save those who put their trust in Him.

In Unit 2.1 several questions led a process of inquiry which concluded with the thought that if God were Unconditional Love, then it would be just like Him to come as Emmanuel – “God with us.” Yet this is but a deduction coming from the logic of love. Wouldn’t it be great to have an historical corroboration of this “logic of love”? Wouldn’t it be amazing to know that the bringer of this corroboration was, Himself, Unconditional Love, and that He gave this unconditional love completely and concretely to us in an act of complete self-sacrifice? If that were the case, then the One who comes as the “Unconditional Love of ‘God with us’” would be a perfect reflection in word and deed of the God He preached.

This would mean that God would stop at nothing – not even finitude, pain, self-sacrifice, and death – to save each and every one of us from darkness, evil, misuse of freedom, wrong directions, wasted lives, and even the choice to alienate ourselves from God. If God would stop at nothing to save us, then all we need do is rely upon His salvific will whenever we discover ourselves taking the wrong path. Of course, we have to try to get back onto the right path, but the unconditionally loving God would not even expect us to do this perfectly. He would anticipate that we would veer off the road again, and He would be there again to forgive us, heal us, and bring us back on the right path. Wouldn’t it be great if the One “designated Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by His resurrection from the dead” (Romans 1:4) had preached definitively that God (the Father) is Abba – the Father of the Prodigal Son, that love is the highest commandment, that we should forgive one another seventy times seven times, and even showed Himself to be the perfect reflection of that love in an act of complete self-sacrifice? If that were the case, then there would be real reason – the reason of both mind and heart – to have unconditional hope in our salvation through unconditional trust in the unconditional love of God.

Needless to say, a life of unconditional hope in an eternal life of love transforms our whole purpose in life, our reason for being. It puts us on a path toward that love, and makes us apostles of that love – apostles of unconditional hope for the world. We can no longer live for this world alone, with its transitory glory; we now live for the ultimate glory of unconditional love into which we will be immersed along with all those who trust in this promise. Our whole mentality, our worldview, changes. We need no longer be subject to the darkness which can invade us. We can now pray to push back the darkness, and know that the darkness will be pushed back, that it will never be victorious. We no longer need to experience ultimate tragedy, for even though we may experience great grieving in great tragedies, we know that no tragedy will be ultimate – that the unconditionally loving God will transform every great tragedy into eternal and unconditional love. We no longer have to underlive our lives by succumbing to a superficial materialism that would have us reduce ourselves to mere animals, or even worse, mere atoms. We can live for what we know ourselves to be: made in the image of God, to be immersed in and fulfilled by His perfect and unconditional Truth, Love, Goodness, Beauty, and Being. Now that is a different life – a life which, despite its difficulties and challenges, despite suffering and grief, will inevitably come to perfect joy if we but trust in the Lovers’ promise: “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete” (John 15:11).

So, what is the point of Units 2.9 - 2.13? It is to show that the One who is “designated Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by His resurrection from the dead”, did preach definitively that God (the Father) is Abba – the Father of the Prodigal Son, that love is the highest commandment, and that we should forgive one another seventy times seven times. It is to show that the One designated as the Son of God did give Himself totally in an unconditional act of self-sacrifice – an unconditional act of love. It is to show that the One designated as the Son of God is Unconditional Love, that He preached the Father to be Unconditional Love, and that we are destined for that unconditional love in Him.

The elements of Units 2.9 - 2.13 can be traced back to Jesus (e.g., Abba, love as the highest commandment, the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, the beatitudes, Jesus’ love of the poor and sinners as well as friends, the Eucharist, and the Passion). This will reveal the full impact of Jesus’ teaching and practice of love – the full impact as interpreted through the minds and hearts of people who were tremendously affected by that love and by the Holy Spirit who deepened it within their minds and hearts. We are then brought closer to the light and to the life-altering unconditional love of God. The forthcoming explication of Jesus’ words of love is by no means exhaustive. In order to accomplish this, we would have to consider not only the four Gospels, but also the Pauline, Johannine, and Petrine epistles as well. This would require an encyclopedic volume, which is not necessary to accomplish my objective, namely, manifesting Jesus’ revelation of the unconditional love of God.

I believe this objective can be met by examining four particularly deep revelations in Jesus’ teaching:

1.	 Love as the highest commandment, 2.	 The parable of the Good Samaritan, 3.	 The parable of the Prodigal Son, and 4.	 The beatitudes.

These four revelations offer a remarkable journey into the heart of Jesus and the Father.

Saint Francis of Assisi took a fundamental insight from his beloved Jesus: “Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.” Saint Francis correctly perceived that Jesus’ words of love did not stand alone. They were set within a context of action or works. Thus, this Unit (on Jesus’ words of love) must be seen within the context of Units 2.11 - 2.13 (Jesus’ works of love). This will show not only that Jesus practiced what He preached about Himself and the Father, but also the way in which His words could be put into practice. Therefore, the reader may want to return to this Unit after reading Units II-K-M to appreciate more deeply the single weave constituted by Jesus’ words and works of love.

Love: the Highest Commandment
Perhaps the most explicit statement of Jesus’ belief in love is found in His proclamation about the highest commandment:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments. (Mt 22:37-40)

Though these two commandments are given in the Old Testament (Deut 6:5 and Lev 19:18, respectively) and the first commandment was well-known (through its appearance in Jewish liturgy), Jesus’ proclamation here is new in two respects: (1) the first and greatest, and (2) the linking of the second commandment to the first.

With respect to the first point, Jesus’ proclamation to “love the Lord your God…” as the first and greatest commandment has a superlative character surpassing the typical rabbinical use of a “heavy” (important) commandment. According to McKenzie:

The rabbis counted 613 distinct commandments in the Law, of which 248 were positive precepts and 365 were prohibitions. These commandments were distinguished as “light” and “heavy” according to the seriousness of the subject.

Though the superlative here might be interpreted as a rabbinical summary teaching, Matthew seems to be at great pains to distinguish Jesus’ superlative from a summary and to take it literally (as indicated by his addition of “all the Law and the Prophets hang – depend – on these two commandments”).

Though love of God was considered to be heavy (important) in rabbinical interpretation, it was never elevated to the level of the greatest commandment upon which the whole of Torah depended. Viviano notes: “The rabbis said that the world hangs on Torah, Temple service, and deeds of loving-kindness…. Matthew makes the law itself depend upon deeds of love.”  If Matthew’s interpretation of Jesus’ use of the superlative is correct, then Jesus has elevated love to the highest commandment on which all other commandments depend, and through which all other commandments must be interpreted. This may be unique to Jesus up to His time in the history of religions.

The second point is equally important. When Jesus connects the second commandment (“love your neighbor as yourself”) to the first, He elevates the second commandment from a moderate prescription to the second heaviest, and then ties it to the heaviest commandment. According to McKenzie:

The novelty consists in placing Lv 19:18 on the same level [as Deut 6:5], making it equally “heavy.” To this arrangement of the two commandments so that they become effectively one there is no parallel in Jewish literature. The T. Issachar (5:2 [APOT 2, 327]), often quoted in this connection, does indeed urge the love of God and of the neighbor; but these are not stated as the two greatest commandments of the Law, nor are they so explicitly given equal weight.

The unification of the two commandments to love implies that the love of God leads to the love of neighbor, and that the love of neighbor is complementary to the love of God. The two loves interact with and build up one another. The First Letter of John views this complementarity in a “necessarily reciprocal” way:

If any one says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from Him, that he who loves God should love his brother also (I Jn 4:20-21).

This reciprocity, seen in a positive light, might be interpreted as follows: the love of God frees the heart to love one’s neighbor, and this love of neighbor naturally follows from the love of God. The love of neighbor, in turn, frees the heart to love God even more deeply, which, in turn, frees the heart to love one’s neighbor more deeply still. This ever-widening spiral would seem to continue until the heart can attach no further condition to love, that is, when it is capable of unconditional love.

By unifying the two loves and making the Law dependent on love, Jesus moves the focal point of morality from exterior observance to an interior disposition. Even though love, for Jesus, is not reducible to a feeling (and is linked to will and deeds), its origin is in the heart (the converted, humble, and gentle heart) from which good deeds naturally spring (as good fruits naturally spring from good trees – Matt 7:18). Jesus makes known His concern for humble, gentle, other-centered, interior identity in many places. Perhaps the most powerful is in His arguments with the Pharisees:

Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean (Matt 23:25-26 and par.).

When Jesus says that the Law and the prophets depend on love, He means that the interior conversion to humble-hearted, gentle-hearted, other-centered faith is necessary for loving deeds, and that these loving deeds, in turn, are necessary for the worship of God and the protection of one’s fellow human being (the end and purpose of the Law). Therefore, the Law can never achieve its purpose without love rooted deeply in the human heart. This is why Saint Paul asserts:

…[H]e who loves his fellowman has fulfilled the law. The commandments…are summed up in this one rule: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  Love does no harm to its neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law (Rm 13:8-10).

Jesus’ proclamation of a highest commandment is simultaneously a revelation about His and the Father’s core identity, for Jesus would not ask us to do anything which He Himself would not do (the polemic against Jesus never included hypocrisy). Indeed, Jesus viewed His moral prescriptions as a reflection of His and the Father’s interior dispositions. Thus, the proclamation of the first and greatest commandment is simultaneously a proclamation of His and the Father’s core identity. This identification of law with the inner disposition of God is quite common in Wisdom literature:

The postexilic scribes identify the law with wisdom (BS 24; 39:1-11) and find in it all knowledge, human and divine. … The rabbis included the Torah among the beings which existed before creation.

The highest commandment upon which the whole Law hangs must then be the core of the wisdom and spirit of God which is reflective of the nature of God. Jesus’ proclamation of love as the first and greatest commandment is therefore the proclamation that God is Love, indeed, God is the essence of Love.

In sum, Jesus’ proclamation of “love as the highest commandment” reflects God’s unconditionally loving nature in two ways. First, inasmuch as God (the Father) and Jesus would not ask of us what they are not capable of or willing to do, they must be able and willing to love with their whole heart, soul, and mind, revealing their unconditional Love. Secondly, Torah is a reflection of the wisdom and will of God. Since the highest commandment in Torah (upon which everything else depends) must be a reflection of the essence of the Law, it must also be a reflection of the essence of the wisdom and will of God. Unconditional Love (loving with one’s whole heart, soul, and mind) must therefore reflect the essence of the wisdom and will of God, that is, the very essence of God, Himself.

Did Jesus understand these two connections between the highest commandment and the essence of God? It cannot be imagined that He did not, for even the most rudimentary religious education in First Century Israel would have denied hypocrisy of God and would have associated Torah with the wisdom and will of God. One might say that He was completely and transparently cognizant of what His proclamation of “the highest commandment” meant, and for this reason, His disciples did not miss the point:

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love (1Jn 4:7-8).

Jesus’ View of Love: The Good Samaritan
Jesus’ view of “love” is connected to the view of the Old Testament (and second-Temple Judaism), but goes far beyond it. The Old Testament view of love (ahab), as McKenzie notes:

…is used in a variety of contexts which are much the same as the uses of the Eng word love. Basically it signifies a voluntary attachment. … in each context where it is used love signifies a love of preference. It is signified by [Ruth’s] devotion and fidelity…. Love is also friendship, and one’s friends in Hb are called one’s lovers. The Israelite is commanded to love his neighbor (Lv 19:18); the identification of the neighbor is far more explicit in the Gospel than it ever was in the Old Testament. …As a theological concept love appears as a mutual sentiment between Yahweh and Israel. The concept cannot be called early; it is not found before Hosea, who in all probability must be regarded as the first to express it. …[Yahweh’s love] draws Israel. The love of Yahweh rarely falls upon individuals, and then it is almost synonymous with election….

Jesus expands the Old Testament notion of love in five respects in the parables of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son:

(1)	The Father’s love is given not only to the people (group) Israel, but also to individuals (the Prodigal Son). (2)	Human beings are asked to love their enemies – not merely their friends (the Good Samaritan). (3)	Love includes a heart of compassion, forgiveness, mercy, and self-sacrifice – beyond the expectations of friendship, justice, and the law (the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son). (4)	The Father’s love is unconditional and is the ground of His heart of compassion, forgiveness, mercy, and self-sacrifice (the Prodigal Son), and (5)	We are called to imitate the Father’s unconditional heart of compassion as far as is humanly possible (the Good Samaritan).

As will be seen in the discussion of the Good Samaritan (in this section) and the Prodigal Son (in the next section), these two parables interplay with one another to ground both Jesus’ expanded meaning of “love” and His revelation of the Father’s unconditional love. The parable of the Good Samaritan is focused on the meaning of “love” and “neighbor,” while the parable of the Prodigal Son is focused on the love of the Father (Abba) for even the most undeserving sinners (the father in the parable represents God the Father). When the interplay between the parables is considered, we see that Jesus’ expanded definition of love (in the Good Samaritan) reveals more broadly the loving heart of the Father, while Jesus’ revelation of the heart of the Father (in the Prodigal Son), deepens his expanded definition of love. In this way, Jesus uses the apparatus of parables to reveal concretely and relationally (not merely abstractly and individually) both the meaning of love and the unconditional love of the Father.

This expanded notion of love encouraged the early Christian Church to select a Greek word for love which went beyond those commonly used in profane Greek. As McKenzie notes:

Greek uses the words erōs, philia, and agapē and their cognates to designate love. Erōs signifies the passion of sexual desire and does not appear in the New Testament. Philein and philia designate primarily the love of friendship. Agapē and agapān, less frequent in profane Greek, are possibly chosen for that reason to designate the unique and original Christian idea of love in the New Testament. In English also the word “charity” is used to show the unique character of this love, and is used in most English versions of the Bible to translate agapē and agapān.

We begin with an expanded re-telling of the parable recounted in Luke 10:30-37:

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho [a route notorious for robberies], and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half-dead. Now by chance a priest [a high Jewish cleric/authority] was going down that road; and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite [another Jewish authority, who as a member of the tribe of Levi, could become a priest], when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan [a foreigner, who could have felt resentment toward the Jewish people for their hatred and rejection], as he journeyed, came to where he was; and when he saw him, was filled with compassion [esplagchnisthē – see the explanation below], and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and cared for [epemelēthē] him. And the next day he took out two denarii [twenty-four days worth of room and board] and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’

The central idea in this parable is “filled with compassion” (esplagchnisthē) which is discussed below. This compassion moves the Samaritan to overcome the natural resentment and hostility he would have felt toward the Jewish people, to exert the effort to tend to the victim’s wounds and carry him to safety, and to spend a considerable amount on his recovery. This stands in stark contrast to the Jewish clerics who were not “filled with compassion,” and for this reason, avoided the man. Jesus here gives a very poignant example of what it means to love, namely, to be moved deeply in one’s heart to serve another’s needs far beyond the requirements of justice, custom, and the law. Notice the centrality of being moved in the heart (“filled with compassion”). The Samaritan is not responding to mere prescription or duty. He is acting out of an empathy which characterizes his very spirit or being. This is what Jesus is asking of us – to cultivate and deepen a heart of compassion, that is, to have a heart which is capable of being moved by others’ needs and to respond in caring, loving service. We shall see this centrality of the heart/compassion again in the parable of the Prodigal Son and the beatitudes. Before proceeding with this discussion further, we must respond to a potential historical problem connected with both the parable of the Good Samaritan and the parable of the Prodigal Son, namely that they are found only in Luke and therefore have only single attestation. Some exegetes (in the last century) considered this to be problematic and cast doubt on the authenticity of these parables as true sayings of Jesus. Thus, we will want to consider the authenticity of these parables while we are probing their meaning. Happily these two tasks can be accomplished conjointly.

Jeremias, Wright, and (interestingly) even Dominic Crossan of the Jesus Seminar have acknowledged the authenticity of both parables despite their single attestation. The rationale for this can be adduced from two applications of the historical criterion of coherence (or continuity).

The first application of the criterion of coherence may be summarized as follows: conformity between the gospels and the Palestinian and Jewish milieu as confirmed by history, archeology, and literature of the time of Jesus – such as:

the evangelical description of the human environment (work, habitation, professions), of the linguistic and cultural environment (patterns of thought, Aramaic substratum), of the social, economic, political and juridical environment, of the religious environment especially (with its rivalries between Pharisees and Sadducees, its religious preoccupations concerning the clean and the unclean).

We will apply this criterion to the Good Samaritan in this section and defer consideration of the Prodigal Son to the next section. This criterion has special significance with respect to Luke’s recounting of both parables, because Luke was a gentile writing for a gentile audience. He and his audience did not have the same awareness of Palestinian geography and customs as Jesus’ audience (during His ministry). Both of these parables are filled with Jewish customs, prescriptions, geographical knowledge, and even “inside information” which would not have been easily known by or useful to him. For example, the lonely road from Jerusalem to Jericho was well known by Palestinians as a place for robberies,  but it is unlikely that Luke would have used this setting to describe a scene for his gentile audience.

Furthermore, the parable has great significance within the Palestinian Jewish environment of Jesus’ day, but it would have had little significance to a gentile author and audience. The use of the priest and Levite, as examples of religious authorities who do not understand the full significance of love and faith, would be far more effective for a Palestinian audience than a gentile one. The use of a Samaritan as a contrast to these “respectable religious authorities” would not have been fully understood by a gentile audience, because they probably would not have recognized how hated the Samaritans were by the Palestinian population. Furthermore, the form of the story matches that of a Palestinian parable (the triadic form). Why would a gentile author have selected this peculiarly Palestinian form for a gentile audience?

Finally, the setting of the parable is a dialogue between Jesus and a scribe who is using a very “scribal” approach to asking Jesus about the legal limits of love (after Jesus has elevated love to the highest commandment). As Jeremias notes:

If the conjecture be accepted that the scribe, in repeating the double command to love, was quoting a saying of Jesus, his thelōm dichaiōsai eauton (v. 29) becomes intelligible; he is excusing himself for asking Jesus although he knows what Jesus thinks.”

The difficult Greek usage here (translating a Semitic custom) would be completely lost on a gentile audience and one would have to ask why Luke would have used it for them, if this parable were merely a Lukan redaction.

The second use of the criterion of coherence is also applicable to the Good Samaritan. Recall that this use of the criterion seeks expressions or sayings which are typical of Jesus (ascertained by multiple attestation) and discontinuous with (or not explicit in) the Palestinian Judaism of His time. Narratives which contain multiple instances of themes which typify Jesus’ break with (or expansion of) Palestinian Judaism indicate that these narratives not only originated in Palestine but also with Jesus himself. The Good Samaritan has three such themes.

First, the point of the parable is to respond to the scribe’s inquiry about the limits to love. The parable indicates that the answer is that there are no limits – and it does so in a way that typifies Jesus – love must be extended to even the most resented enemies. It should be added that Jesus’ response here would have been quite relevant to a Palestinian audience, but lost on a gentile one. Jeremias characterizes it as follows:

…it is clear that Jesus had intentionally chosen an extreme example; by comparing the failure of the ministers of God with the unselfishness of the hated Samaritan, his hearers should be able to measure the absolute and unlimited nature of the duty of love.

Second-temple Judaism did not recognize a limitless duty to love, and it certainly did not require a love of enemies. This is precisely what provokes the scribe’s question about who should be considered a friend (“neighbor” and “friend” are interchangeable here ). The scribe is seeking an answer to the question about the limits to love. In typical fashion, Jesus does not try to make his teaching conform to the scribe’s expectation (i.e., that there is a limit to love), but rather, extends it even to the most resented enemy.

Secondly, the victim of the robbers in the parable typifies one that Jesus would have selected – one who is vulnerable, without resources, easily ignored, and left for dead. This choice of victim correlates with Jesus’ concern for the most vulnerable of people. As Jeremias notes:

The boundless nature of love also finds expression in the fact that, following Jesus’ example, it turns towards the very people who are poor and despised (Luke 14.12-14), helpless (Mark 9.37), and insignificant (Matt.18.10).

Though second-Temple Judaism acknowledges an important duty to the poor; it does not elevate it to a primary duty with virtually unlimited application.

Thirdly, this parable highlights the virtue of a compassionate heart which for Jesus is akin to a super virtue. We have already seen the word for compassion in this parable (esplagchnisthē) used in the story about the raising of the son of the widow of Nain. Recall from that discussion that the root “splagchnon” has the general meaning of “the bowels, which were thought to be the seat of the deeper affections, and could refer to pity or sympathy – inward affection, tender mercy.”

Compassion characterizes the heart of Jesus not only in the gospel of Luke, but also in the other synoptic gospels. In Mark 1:41 Jesus has compassion for a leper who asks to be healed. In Mark 6:34 Jesus has compassion on the crowd for they are like sheep without a shepherd. In Mark 8:1-3 Jesus has compassion on the crowd because they have been with him for three days and have had nothing to eat. In Matthew 20:34 Jesus has compassion for two blind beggars and heals them.

In the gospel of Luke, compassion is attributed to the heart of the Father. The primary example of this comes from Jesus himself in the parable of the Prodigal Son where Jesus declares: “But while [the prodigal son] was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (Lk 15:20). This apparently had such a strong impact on Luke that he makes compassion the central quality of the Father’s perfection by changing Matthew’s admonition to “be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect” (Mt 5:48), to “be compassionate as your heavenly Father is compassionate” (Lk 6:36). Even though Luke uses the less visceral word “oiktirmones” to refer to “compassion” (perhaps out of deference to the Father’s non-embodiment), it strongly suggests that the heart of the Father and the heart of Jesus are identical in this central quality.

We may now return to the Good Samaritan where it is evident that all of the above dimensions of Jesus’ and the Father’s compassion are present. The Samaritan sees his bitter enemy in need, and is moved in his heart not only to take care of him on the road, but to provide for him into the future – as if he were a friend or brother. One might say that the Samaritan resembles the heart of Jesus and the Father exactly as it has been characterized in the Synoptic Gospels. Second-Temple Judaism, in contrast, does not place this attribute at the center of God’s essence or the meaning of human existence.

In sum, Jesus expands the Old Testament and Palestinian view of love in three important respects: (1) the virtue of love is limitless and must be extended even to enemies, (2) love also extends to serving the most vulnerable populations (the despised, marginalized, impoverished, and even sinners ), and (3) the source of love is a heart of compassion resembling that of Jesus and the Father. This last point will be corroborated by the forthcoming exploration of the parable of the Prodigal Son.

The Parable of the Prodigal Son
We might begin by observing that the parable of the Prodigal Son is commensurate with Jesus’ address to the Father – Abba. Recall what was said (in Units II-E&G) about the exceedingly rare use of this address in second-Temple Judaism. One reason for this rare usage may be found in the seeming “presumptuousness” of applying it to “the Creator and Master of the Universe.”  Recall that Paul found this address so difficult that he could not bring himself to use it without the help of the Holy Spirit (even after Jesus’ instruction to do so). The affection, childlike trust, and deep familial compassion implied by this address is confirmed in the parable of the Prodigal Son. The connections are so striking that one is tempted to think that this parable was formulated precisely to explain the deeper meaning of Jesus’ name for and address to God. We will begin an explanation of the parable as a First-Century Palestinian audience would have understood it. This will allow for a subsequent application of the two dimensions of the historical criterion of coherence which will, in turn, authenticate its origin in Jesus. Recall that Jeremias, Wright, and even Dominic Crossan (of the Jesus Seminar) judge this parable to have originated with Jesus despite its single attestation in Luke.

This parable is one of Jesus’ primary revelations of God the Father’s unconditional Love. While revealing the nature of forgiveness and love, it shows the Father to be the fullest expression of that Love, thereby providing a clue to Jesus’ identity as Emmanuel.

Jeremias identifies Jesus’ motive for telling the Prodigal Son parable (along with the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin parables). Apparently, some of Jesus’ detractors were accusing Him of unjustifiably seeking fellowship with sinners. Jesus justifies His actions by noting that His conduct is completely commensurate with His Father’s (Abba) who is concerned for sinners, and is capable of justifying even those who have abandoned and shamed their families, countrymen, the law, the covenant, and God:

The parable of the Prodigal Son is therefore not primarily a proclamation of the Good News to the poor, but a vindication of the Good News in reply to its critics. Jesus’ justification lies in the boundless love of God.

Let us proceed to the parable. A father had two sons, the youngest of whom asked for his share of the inheritance. This would have been viewed as an insult to the father which would have shamed both father and family (because the son is asking not only for the right of possession, but the right of disposal of the property which legally does not occur until the death of the father ). Nevertheless, the father (who is Jesus’ revelation of God the Father ) hears the son’s request and acquiesces to it. He divides his property and lets his son go.

The son chooses to go to a foreign land. Though he could have lived in a Jewish Diaspora community, we might infer that he lived and worked with the gentiles (because he ends up on a gentile farm, living with the pigs). Whether he started there or simply ended there is of little consequence. His actions indicate a disregard for (if not a rejection of) his election and people, and a further shaming of the family from which he came.

Then the son adds further insult to injury by spending his father’s hard-earned fortune on dissolute living (violations of Torah) in the gentile land. This shows the son’s callous disregard for (if not rejection of) God’s law, God’s revelation, and perhaps God Himself.

Just when it seems that the son could not possibly sin any more egregiously, the foreign land finds itself in a famine. The son has little money left, and is constrained to live with the pigs, which were considered to be highly unclean animals. The son incurs defilement not only from working with the pigs but actually living with them! He even longs to eat the food of the pigs which would have defiled him both inside and outside. This reveals the son’s wretched spiritual state, which would have engendered both disgust and revulsion from most members of Jesus’ First-Century audience.

The son experiences a “quasi-change” of heart, not so much because of what he’s done to his family, country, people, election, law, religion, and God; but because of the harshness of his condition (“How many of my father’s servants have more than enough to eat…”). He decides to take advantage of what he perceives to be his father’s merciful nature by proffering an agreement to accept demotion from son to servant (even though it was the father’s right to reject and even disown him altogether). The son makes his way back home.

The father (Jesus’ definitive revelation of God) sees him coming while he is still on his way, and has compassion on him. Recall this central theme about the heart of Jesus and the Father in the Good Samaritan and other synoptic passages. He runs out to meet him despite the fact that the son has so deeply injured and shamed both him and his family. When he meets his son, he throws his arms around him and kisses him. The kiss is not only an act of affection, but also a sign of forgiveness. The son’s litany of insults, injuries, and sins is incapable of turning the father’s heart away from him. The father is almost compelled to show unrestrained affection toward him. The son utters his speech of quasi-repentance/negotiation: “Just treat me like one of your servants….”  Instead, the father tells the servants to get him a robe, which not only takes care of his temporal needs, but is also a mark of high distinction. He then asks that a ring be put on his hand which is a signet ring, having the seal of the family. This indicates not only belonging to the family, but also having the authority of the family (showing the son’s readmission to the family in an unqualified way). He then gives him shoes, which again takes care of his obvious temporal needs, and, inasmuch as they are luxuries, signifies a freeman who no longer has to go about barefoot like a slave. He then kills the fatted calf (reserved only for very special occasions) and holds a feast. This is a further indication of the son’s readmission to the family by being received at the festal family table.

Jesus’ audience probably felt conflicted (if not angered) by the father’s merciful treatment of his son, because it ignored (and even undermined) the “proper” strictures of justice. The father’s love/mercy seems to disregard the fairness of the law. This does not deter Jesus, because He is convinced that God the Father treats sinners – even the most egregious sinners – in exactly the same fashion, that is, with a heart of unconditional Love.

Jesus continues the story by turning His attention to the older son who reflects a figure of righteousness according to the old covenant. Recall that Jesus included this part of the parable to address the concerns of his audience who were undoubtedly offended by the father’s mercy. The older son has stayed loyal to his father, family, election, country, religion, law, and God. Furthermore, he has been an incredibly hard worker and seems to accept patiently the father’s frugality toward him. Most of Jesus’ audience probably sympathized with this older son’s plight when the father demonstrated his extraordinary generosity to his younger son. By all rights, the father should have either rejected or disowned the younger son, and if not that, he certainly should have accepted the younger son’s offer to become a servant – but an unqualified re-admittance to home and family? If this did not ignore the proper strictures of justice, it certainly seemed unfair – very unfair – toward his older son.

The father understands the son’s difficulty with his actions and so, despite the older son’s reproaches toward him (“…yet you never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your living with harlots…”), he treats him with genuine gentleness. Jeremias notes that the father’s address is particularly affectionate (“my dear child”—“technon”). He then proceeds to “plead” with (parekalei—which also means “beg”) his son – a humiliation to which most fathers of the time would not be inclined. He begins by giving his older son all his property, addressing his older son’s need for fairness: “You have been with me always, and everything I have is yours.”  Then, he gives him an explanation which did not fall within the mainstream interpretation of the law:  compassion must take precedence over justice and love take precedence over the law, for that is the only way that the negativity of sin and evil can be redressed and overcome – “Your brother was lost and is found; he was dead and has come back to life.”

This parable coincides precisely with Jesus’ address of God as Abba, “love as the highest commandment,” and the parable of the Good Samaritan, because the only way in which all four sayings make sense is through the heart of an unconditionally loving God who beckons us to find our fulfillment and joy by following Him.

We may now proceed to an examination of the authenticity of this parable. Once again, we will use the two dimensions of the criterion of coherence. With respect to the first dimension, conformity to Jewish geography, customs, and language, the parable is simply loaded with allusions to Jewish culture and language which would have been lost on a gentile audience (and vague to a gentile author). The reference to living with the pigs may have seemed unpleasant to a gentile audience, but it would not have indicated moral degradation and defilement (as it would for a Jewish audience). Inasmuch as the parable speaks to the son’s moral degradation, it would seem to have been addressed to a Jewish (rather than a gentile) audience. Furthermore, the precise descriptions of the Jewish law with respect to property would have been wasted on a gentile audience (making its inclusion by Luke virtually unintelligible). Jeremias notes in this regard:

“[the older son] does not acquire the usufruct which remains in the father’s unrestricted possession until his death. This legal position is correctly depicted in the parable when the elder brother is indicated as the sole future owner, but nevertheless the father continues to enjoy the usufruct.”

Moreover, the narrator correctly depicts the younger son’s legal problem which makes “being a servant” (and earning his keep) the best outcome he can hope for from his father. Jeremias notes here, “after the legal settlement [which the younger son has obtained from his father] he has no further claim [to anything from the family], not even to food and clothing.”

Additionally, there are two Semitisms which are virtually inexplicable without the parable having an original Aramaic form: (1) the non-indication of the change in subject (echollēthē/epempsen)  – 15:15, and (2) “he came back to himself” (“he came into himself”) is in Hebrew and Aramaic an expression of repentance  which is appropriate for the context (15:17).

Furthermore, the second part of the parable (concerned with the older son) may have held some interest to a gentile audience, but it is absolutely essential for a Jewish one who may well have been scandalized by the Father’s mercy toward the son who had fragrantly violated the law and respect for his family. As Jeremias indicates, the first part of the parable would have offended a Jewish audience (most of whom would have considered themselves to be like the older son), which would have compelled Jesus to reassure them that the inheritance would be completely given over to the older son for his fidelity. The younger son belongs to and has authority in the family, but has no rights of inheritance because the property belongs to the older son. There are many other allusions to other customs, such as the cloak, the ring, the shoes, and the fatted calf which make more sense in a Jewish context than in a gentile one.

Wright identifies another possible Jewish dimension of the story by pointing to a meaning reserved for the Jewish authorities.

This is an explosive narrative, designed to blow apart the normal first-century reading of Jewish history and to replace it with a different one. … This is the story of Israel, in particular of exile and restoration. It corresponds more or less exactly to the narrative grammar which underlies the exilic prophets, and the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, and a good deal of subsequent Jewish literature, and which must therefore, be seen as formative for second-Temple Judaism.

Granted that Wright’s interpretation of the parable is at least partially valid, it should not be thought to be the only one. Luke portrays Jesus telling the parable not only to the scribes and Pharisees, but also to the tax collectors and sinners who are drawing near to Him (15:1) and who cause the Pharisees to murmur “This man receives sinners and eats with them” (15:2). Thus, Jesus probably told this parable with both an eschatological meaning (for the scribes and Pharisees in His audience) and a personal meaning (for the tax collectors and sinners in His audience). In sum, the many areas of continuity with Semitic customs and language make it highly probable that the parable was told by a Jewish author for a Jewish audience, and later translated into Greek.

We may now turn to the second dimension of the criterion for coherence, namely, themes typifying Jesus’ teaching which are inconsistent with (or not included in) second-Temple Judaism. There are three instances of this second dimension of coherence in the Prodigal Son.

We have already seen the first theme – the compassion which causes the father to run out to the younger son, kiss him, and restore him to his full dignity and family membership – in the parable of the Prodigal Son. Recall that this description of the Father’s compassion is central to Jesus’ teaching and action, but it does not enjoy anything like this centrality in second-Temple Judaism.

Secondly, the father’s unconditional forgiveness of his son (who is portrayed as one of the worst imaginable sinners according to the Jewish law) would be difficult to derive from second-Temple Judaism. Although it is common for Yahweh to forgive sins in the Old Testament and there are many Psalms which petition Him for mercy, the younger son’s flagrant and repeated violations of Torah would have made his repentance seem somewhat insincere. The prioritization of mercy over justice, and compassion over the law is unusual in second-Temple Judaism which placed an accent on the law, justice, judgment, and (where appropriate) punishment. Furthermore, as mentioned above, the members of Jesus’ audience would have taken offense at the father’s forgiveness of the younger son (which includes restoration to the family and even familial authority), because it would have seemed unfair to the older son with whom they identified.

Jesus goes even further – He states that the Father not only forgives sinners, but also takes tremendous joy in that forgiveness. In the parable of the Lost Sheep, He indicates that there is “…more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (Lk 15:7). This theme is repeated in the parable of the Lost Coin (Lk 15:8-10). He says that all blasphemies and sins of men will be forgiven by God except for blaspheming against the Holy Spirit (whose power lies at the source of Jesus’ ministry of forgiveness and healing – Mk 3:29). Jesus claims the power to forgive sins and confirms it with His healing power (Mk 2:8-10). Forgiveness of sinners is a central part of Jesus’ ministry (see Units II-K, Section 2.). Forgiveness is a significant reason for Jesus allowing His blood to be shed. This makes forgiveness a central gift in the Eucharist (Mt 26:28). Therefore, it is not an exaggeration to say that forgiveness and mercy are a central part of Jesus’ teaching about God, His ministry, and Himself.

The third theme in the Prodigal Son which typifies Jesus’ teaching (but is not explicit in second-Temple Judaism) is the father’s implicit request of the older son to forgive his brother in the same way the father has forgiven his brother: “It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found” (Lk 15:32). The father is asking his older son to accept his rationale for celebrating his wayward son’s return to the family, and in so doing, to open his heart to his brother.

This kind of forgiveness and acceptance of sinners is not central to second-Temple Judaism. Indeed, it scandalizes the scribes and Pharisees who continually murmur, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” (Mk 2:15-16). The contempt of the Pharisees is clearly manifest when they simultaneously accuse Jesus of being “a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!” (Mt. 11:19).

In contrast to this, forgiveness (and even unconditional forgiveness) is one of the most frequently mentioned themes in the synoptic gospels (twelve non-overlapping times) showing its importance in the preaching of Jesus. Jesus admonishes Peter to forgive his brother seventy times seven times (Mt. 18:22) which is tantamount to forgiving as many times as one is asked – without limit. Jesus explicitly expands the Torah’s teaching on forgiveness when he says, “You have heard that it was said: ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also….” (Mt 5:38-39). We see this theme again in Lk 17:3-4. God is compared to a master who forgives the entire debt (ten thousand talents – an enormous sum) of a servant who pleads with him for mercy. In the same parable, we are admonished to be equally forgiving of the far smaller debts we owe to one another (Mt 18:27-32). Jesus asks us to forgive one another from the heart (Mt 18:35) and repeatedly connects the Father’s forgiveness of us to our forgiveness of one another (Mt 18:27-32). This is clearly manifest in the Our Father (“forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” – Mt 6:12), the parable of the Wicked Servant (Mt 18:27-32), and the Sermon on the Mount (Mt 6:15).

If this parable was not formulated by Jesus for a Jewish audience, one would have to ask what could have been another realistic source for this parable which so typifies Jesus’ break with and expansion of the Palestinian Judaism in which He lived. A realistic alternative has not yet been identified, which partially explains why Jeremias, Wright, and even Crossan accept its authenticity.

This brings us to the question of why Mark and Matthew do not mention two of the most revealing parables about God’s love in Christ’s teaching. The reason for Mark’s silence is very probably that he did not receive the parables from any of his sources. Since Mark did not have access to many of the sources and traditions of Matthew, Luke, and John, it does not seem unusual that he would not have heard of these two parables. Matthew’s silence may be similar to Mark’s, namely, that he simply did not know about these two parables. However, given Matthew’s desire to convince educated, pious Jewish audiences of Jesus’ messiahship, he may have omitted the parables because the Good Samaritan makes a despised enemy of the Jewish people the example of holiness (at the expense of the priest and Levite), and the Prodigal Son portrays God the Father as forgiving all the sins of the younger son (without chastisement or even reprimand), which, as noted earlier, probably would have offended an educated, pious Jewish audience. In either case, Matthew’s silence can be plausibly explained. Therefore, it seems likely that Luke received these two parables from traditions that arose out of a Jewish author speaking to Jewish audiences. Inasmuch as this author had all of the distinctive proclivities of Jesus, it does not seem unreasonable to attribute both parables to Him.

Two final thematic points concerning the father’s silence in the parable of the Prodigal Son are worth mentioning. First, the father seems to respect the freedom and autonomy of the younger son when he makes his hurtful and outrageous request for half the inheritance prior to the father’s death. The father’s almost passive response to this request (simply dividing the property and giving half to the younger son) does not typify that of a first-century Jewish father (or family). One must be careful about reading too much into Jesus’ portrayal of the father’s response, but it points to the father’s willingness to let the boy go out on his own (and even make his own mistakes) at the expense of the father’s and family’s property, and more importantly, their reputation. It is not unreasonable to infer from this that Jesus believed that His Father would also allow us the freedom to make similar mistakes with the same loving intention of forgiving us and restoring us to full family membership when we misuse this freedom.

Secondly, the father’s reaction to the younger son when he returns from his disastrous journey does not track with first-century Jewish thinking in many respects. The father seems to be almost unconscious of the sheer multitude of his son’s offenses – many of which are incredibly serious. He does not even mention the “mess” that the son has made out of his life – physical or spiritual. The silence would be deafening were it not for the father’s embrace and kiss, which speak volumes. The dictates of justice and the law seem to be overcome by simple affection and love, and the father’s joy in the present and future seems to overcome the gloom of the past. Again, it does not seem unreasonable to infer that Jesus’ Father does not shun our mess, but rather works in it and through it, transforming seemingly hopeless quagmires into lives of true repentance and love.

Jesus’ Definition of Love: The Beatitudes
The reader may be thinking that this section is mischaracterized because Jesus did not give a categorial definition of love. This is certainly true, for He was a Semite who was convinced of the power of example and parable above that of categorial definitions. These would be left to Paul and other thinkers reared in a Hellenistic philosophical milieu. If someone were to ask Jesus about His definition of love, He probably would have looked curiously at the petitioner and then responded with a parable like the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal Son. He then might have said, “Love is like the example of the Samaritan and the prodigal son’s father – do likewise.”

But for those of us reared in an intellectual milieu that respects and is even infatuated with categorial definitions, we will want to find some clues about Jesus’ implicit categorial definition of love. Does such an implicit definition exist? I believe that it does, and the clue to its existence may be found in Paul’s Letter to the Colossians (3:12ff) which reads as follows:

"Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, forbearing one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which is the bond of completeness. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body."

As will be explained throughout this section, Paul’s reference to “humility” resembles the first beatitude; his reference to “meekness,” the third beatitude; his reference to “compassion” and “forgiveness,” the fifth beatitude; and his reference to “peace,” the seventh beatitude. Note that the other two characteristics (kindness and patience) are at the forefront of Paul’s “Hymn to Love” in 1Cor 13, and that Paul calls “love” (agapē) the “bond of completeness” for all these characteristics. In view of this, it is difficult to resist the thought that Paul has done for us what Jesus (as a Semite) would have been very unlikely to do. He has given us a categorial definition of love grounded in Jesus’ teaching – the beatitudes. We may now proceed to an exploration of this implicit categorial definition of “love.”

The Sermon on the Mount was probably an early Church catechism for the Jewish people. Luke’s Sermon on the Plain was probably a catechism for the gentile people. Jeremias believes that both the Matthew and Luke catechisms were derived from an original Aramaic catechism which had its genesis in the preaching of Jesus. The central content of these catechisms may have come from an original sermon of Jesus to which individual sayings or collections of sayings were added.

Jeremias suggests further that the beatitudes form the interpretive context for the rest of the Sermon on the Mount (much like a number outside a bracket affects every number and variable inside it). Thus, the meaning of the beatitudes is tacitly present in all the other sayings in the Sermon.

To know the beatitudes collectively is to know the blessedness of the kingdom, which is to know the love and the heart of God. They may be divided into two kinds: those which pertain to virtues or habits of the heart (1, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7);  and those which pertain to God’s promise to alleviate suffering (2 and 8). Since my primary concern here is to discuss Jesus’ definition of love, and this definition is implicitly contained within the interior dispositions (virtues) necessary for love, I will spend the great majority of this discussion on the first group.

Blessed are the poor in spirit (ptōchoi tō pneumati) Blessed are the meek (praeis) Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for holiness (dikaiosunēn) Blessed are the merciful (eleēmones) Blessed are the clean of heart (katharoi kardia) Blessed are the peacemakers (eirēnopoioi)

All of these virtues start from the interior and find their fruition in an external behavior, reflecting Jesus’ concern (even priority) for the formation of the heart.

The First Beatitude: Blessed are the Poor in Spirit (Humble-Hearted)
What is meant by “poor in spirit?” Jeremias indicates that the Greek hoi ptōchoi (“poor”) from the Hebrew ānī – related to ‘ānāw –  meant:

…the humble, those who are poor before God, who stand before God as beggars, with empty hands, conscious of their spiritual poverty.

Jeremias notes further that Jesus probably used the term “poor” with Isaiah 61:1 as a backdrop:

…[T]he term “poor” is explained by a whole series of parallel expressions. The following phrases alternate with it: “The broken-hearted,” “the captives (to guilt?),” “those who are bound” (v.1), “those who mourn” (v.2), “those who are of faint spirit” (v.3). This makes it certain that the “poor” are those who are oppressed in quite a general sense: the oppressed who cannot defend themselves, the desperate, the hopeless. ‘ānī/‘ānāw is also used elsewhere in prophetic preaching in this comprehensive sense. Originally a designation for the desolate, in the prophets the word embraces the oppressed and the poor who know that they are thrown completely on God’s help. Jesus used “the poor” in this wide sense that the term had acquired in the prophets.

The term pneumati (plural of “spirit”) refers to a disposition or attitude of the spirit or heart. Placing “in spirit” (pneumati) in the context of “the poor” refocuses poverty from an exterior condition which has befallen someone (addressed in Luke’s Gospel) to an interior condition (which can be desired or chosen). Thus, “poor in spirit” might be interpreted as a desire or choice of the interior condition which characterizes the anoyim, namely, humility – the absence of pride, ego-advantage, and exterior trappings. We might therefore translate “poor in spirit” as “humble-hearted.”

The anoyim (the poor or deprived) had no worldly riches, honors, or glory to puff them up or let them down. The addition of “in spirit” puts the accent on choosing detachment from the power and glory of this world. Thus we might render the first beatitude as: “Blessed are those who are like the anoyim in spirit (in heart); who are free from the pride which can be insulted, injured, offended, puffed up, or contemptuous.” The attitude of humble-heartedness is the attitude of persons who know that they are, like anyone else, radically dependent on God for redemption.

Matthew has very likely added the words “in spirit” to Jesus’ blessing for the poor. Luke probably has the more primitive text which follows Jesus’ messianic promise: “Blessed are you poor; yours is the kingdom of God” (Lk 6:20). As noted above, Matthew tends to transform Jesus’ messianic promises into virtues which transfers the emphasis from future eschatology alone (being blessed by God in the future in his kingdom) to both future and present eschatology (being blessed now as well as in the future). Is Matthew’s repositioning of Jesus’ eschatological accent consistent with the teaching of the historical Jesus? As will be made clear throughout this section, it is. In the case of the first beatitude, Jesus repeatedly teaches us to be poor in spirit (humble) not only to be recipients of His messianic promise, but also to be happy in this life. He notes that those who exalt themselves are frequently humbled (finding themselves humiliated at the lowest place at table after having assumed too high a place—Lk 14:7-11). Conversely, those who humble themselves “win the honor of others” in this life (Lk 14:10).

The primary ranking of this beatitude in Matthew is no accident, for if we can free our interior disposition from the desire to aggrandize ourselves and be superior to others, by authentically surrendering to God (who is our true and loving center), all the other beatitudes will become far easier to pursue. Freedom in “poverty of spirit” leads to freedom in meekness, hungering for the kingdom, forgiveness, mercy, and peacemaking.

In my view, detachment from the power and glory of this world requires surrender to God and surrender to God, in turn, requires prayer; for when we pray, we allow God to put Himself back into the center of our lives. We cannot do this for ourselves – we actually need God’s help to surrender to Him. When we pray prayers of praise and thanksgiving, something interesting happens. God seems to slip Himself back into the center of our interior world without calling attention to Himself. In the joy of giving praise, we let go of our compulsive need to be in the center of our universe (and everyone else’s universe) and let God resume His proper place. Prayers of praise and thanksgiving, then, are really prayers to give God the opportunity to resume His proper place; they are really prayers of surrender. This surrender, in its turn, gives freedom – the freedom to let go of an inordinate attachment to ourselves, and therefore to let go of inordinate attachments to everything else which would push us back into the center. This roundabout renunciation of self-aggrandizement, this humble-heartedness, this surrender to God through hymns of praise and thanksgiving is, I believe, consistent with the intention and teaching of the historical Jesus.

Inasmuch as humble-heartedness provides an antidote to the negating effects of pride (offense, injury, insult, inferiority, superiority, arrogance, contempt, and anger), it is a blessing now, and also a perfect blessing when brought to fruition in the kingdom of heaven when the heart of the Father and Son reign supreme.

The Second Beatitude
Recall from above that the second beatitude is not a “virtue beatitude” but rather concerns God’s redemption of present suffering. Hence, we will not take it up explicitly in this context, and will proceed to the third beatitude.

The Third Beatitude: Blessed are the Meek (Gentle-Hearted)
The “meek” (proeis) are similar to the “poor in spirit,” and its Hebrew root is virtually identical (anī / ānāw). According to Viviano, this term “means ‘slow to anger,’ ‘gentle with others,’ connoting a form of charity.”

Jesus probably derived this teaching directly from Psalm 37 which states in verse 11, “the meek shall inherit the land.”  Within the context of Psalm 37, “meek” expands the meaning of “poor in spirit.”  A brief look at Psalm 37 will provide this fuller meaning.

The Psalm addresses the concerns of the righteous person who is dismayed by the success of evil people during this lifetime. The psalmist gives a hopeful (and incipiently eschatological) response to this:

Do not fret because of evil men or be envious of those who do wrong, for like the grass they will soon wither; like green plants they will soon die away. Trust in the Lord and do good. …Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. …He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn; the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret – it leads only to evil. For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land. A little while and the wicked will be no more; though you look for them, they will not be found. But the meek will inherit the land and enjoy great peace. … The days of the blameless are known to the Lord, and their inheritance will endure forever. …Turn from evil and do good: then you will dwell in the land forever. …The righteous will inherit the land and dwell in it forever (Ps 37:1-17).

Notice that the meek (slow to anger and gentle with others) receive their reward both in the future kingdom and in the present world (“they shall delight in abounding peace”—v 11). Within the context of Psalm 37, the “meek” have three major qualities: (1) they trust in the Lord and do good, delighting in the Lord (verse 2), (2) they desire righteousness and justice (verse 6), and (3) they patiently wait for the Lord and refrain from anger and anxiousness (verses 7 and 8). These qualities resemble others mentioned in the remainder of the Sermon on the Mount.

The meek are those who are at peace with trusting and delighting in the Lord, which enables them to be detached from jealousy, anxiousness, or anger about the success of the wicked, and to concentrate on their hearts’ desire, namely, the righteousness of God. As the Hebrew background suggests, meekness of heart is very similar to humbleness of heart. The path to both is essentially the same, namely, surrender to God. The psalmist makes this clear:

Trust in the Lord and do good. …Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. …He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn; the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him.

As with humbleness of heart, surrender to God (through praise, thanksgiving, trust, and waiting) will allow God to come into the center of our personal universe once again, and this alone is our peace. This stillness or peace of heart detaches us from anger, contempt, jealousy, and harsh judgment, and infuses our relationships with the gentleness of Jesus.

“Praeis” could therefore be translated as “gentle-heartedness arising out of the peace of surrendering to the loving God.” This translation is justified by the parallels between the third beatitude and Matthew 11:29:  “For I am meek/gentle (praus) and humble/lowly (tapeinos) in heart.”  As McKenzie notes, “…the adjectives used in 11:29 are identical in meaning and very close verbally to the adjectives of the first and third beatitudes [ptōchoi and praeis, respectively].”   Notice that in Matthew 11:29 the phrase “in heart” (“kardia”) is attached to “praus” (“gentle”) and “tapeinos” (“humble”), and that Jesus applies it directly to Himself. Thus, the translation “gentle-hearted” seems warranted in the third beatitude. So also does a translation of “humble-heartedness” for the first beatitude.

The Fourth Beatitude: Blessed are those Who Hunger and Thirst for Righteousness
In the context of the beatitudes, righteousness (dikaiosunēn) has its base meaning of “innocence” (in the sense of innocent before a judge), and therefore has the sense of “conduct, virtues, and behaviors which lead toward a judgment of innocence” (i.e., good or virtuous conduct). The eschatological tone of the beatitudes opens upon a fuller meaning of righteousness as “the fulfillment of God’s law,” which Jesus interpreted as the highest commandment, or love (see Section I). Furthermore, the fulfillment of God’s law is the actualization of His kingdom, and Jesus has come to bring the kingdom of God in His own person. Thus, in its fuller sense, “righteousness” signifies innocence, good deeds, the fulfillment of the law, the love of God, and the kingdom of God, all of which might be said to be included in the saving will of God, which is perfectly manifest in Jesus Himself (Jesus’ name – Yēsua – in Hebrew, means “Yahweh is salvation”). Thus, when Jesus says, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,” He is saying, “Blessed are those who intensely desire what God intensely desires, namely, His loving, saving will to be actualized now, and perfectly in His kingdom to come.” Thus, those who hunger and thirst for holiness desire with all their hearts (as a first priority in their lives) God’s kingdom (now and perfectly in the future), God’s loving will for the world, and the universal salvation of all people through the salvific act of Jesus. The first two petitions of the Lord’s Prayer express this desire, and it has been traditionally referred to as “zeal for souls.”

Intensely desiring personal salvation, the salvation of the world, and the saving will of God warrants an unconditional promise of salvation: “they will be satisfied.”  Two things should be noted here. First, the satisfaction of the desire for righteousness is salvation, that is, the kingdom of God (brought in the very person of Jesus Christ). When Jesus promises “they will be satisfied,” He literally is promising salvation in His kingdom.

Secondly, the most important step in moving toward this salvation is the intense desire (hungering and thirsting) for it. At first glance this might seem too good to be true. Yet, it does seem to be consistent with Jesus’ vehement discouragement of self-righteousness (self-justification – autodikaiosunē). Here, Jesus is saying that we are incapable of saving (justifying) ourselves. We are also incapable of actualizing God’s saving will in our lives by ourselves. Hence, we must radically trust in God, surrender to Him, and make our primary desire the kingdom of God and the salvation of the world. If we subordinate other competitive desires to this primary desire, we free ourselves from attachments to this world’s transitory glory, and open ourselves to the unconditional Love which is our end and fulfillment. Prioritizing our desires (in our hearts and practice) and trusting in the loving will of God allows God to move into our hearts and to lead us to His unconditional promise – “they will be satisfied.” This is consistent with Jesus’ later teaching in the Sermon on the Mount: “Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well” (Mt 6:33).

We might see “hungering and thirsting for righteousness” as a pathway to the first and third beatitudes (humbleness/gentleness of heart), for if we desire God, Jesus, His kingdom, and His salvation (righteousness) as the first priority of our lives, we will allow God into the center of our hearts, and we will gladly take our place along with everyone else in the periphery. “Making God the center,” in turn, engenders humbleness and gentleness of heart; which, in their turn, open the way to true love of neighbor.

Jesus’ prayer “Thy will be done” (Mt 6:10 and 26:39) would seem to be an important vehicle for actualizing our intense desire for righteousness, for it says to the Lord, “Not my will, but Your will be done, because Your will is optimally loving, optimally just, optimally salvific, and optimally good, and I trust it – nay, I trust it completely.” This intense prayer of trust in the Lord disposes us to become instruments of His optimal love, salvation, justice, and goodness in the world. If we truly are His instruments in bringing about this optimally loving and salvific goodness in the world, we could not possibly do anything more with our lives, anything better, anything more satisfying, anything more eternal. To be an instrument of God’s will is to make the most use of one’s life.

The Fifth Beatitude: Blessed are the Merciful
The Hebrew background of the Greek term for “merciful” (eleēmones), here, refers to “having pity on” or “compassion.”   McKenzie notes, “The two works of mercy most emphasized in Matthew are almsgiving and forgiveness.”   These two themes are among the most frequent in the New Testament.

With respect to forgiveness, the contrast between “forgive” (aphienai) and “retain” (kratein) in Mark 2:5 ff and John 20:21-23 brings out the characteristic of “letting go of” or “releasing from one’s grasp.”  Sin against one’s neighbor gave the neighbor a claim or power over the sinner (to exact justice or penalty). Forgiveness releases the sinner from this claim or power to exact a penalty in an absolute way (that is, the claim simply no longer exists).

The key difference between the Old and New Testament views of forgiveness is that forgiveness comes through Yahweh in the Old Testament, but comes through Jesus in the New Testament. Jesus’ unconditional salvific act (in His cross and death, and in the Eucharist – see the formula in Mt 26:28) is the ground for unconditional forgiveness which He claims to be able to effect on behalf of the Father during His ministry (Mk 2:5ff and par.). Jesus and His opponents recognized this to be a divine power (given the accusation of blasphemy), so Jesus vindicates His position by healing.

As noted in the previous section, Jesus links His unconditional forgiveness of us to our forgiveness of one another. This is clearly manifest in the Our Father, and also in the parable of the unjust servant who did not forgive his fellow servant a small debt when he had been forgiven by his master for a much greater one (Mt 18:21-35).

Jesus’ admonition to forgive others seventy times seven times (Mt 18:22) suggests that we should forgive one another without limit. Inasmuch as Jesus and the Father expect this of us, we may be certain that they “practice what they ask of us,” and therefore that they are “unconditional mercy/compassion” at the core of their identity. We may rely on this unconditional forgiving love in all our failings, but we must also give what we have been freely given. The refrain of the Our Father reminds us that the forgiveness of our sins is attached to our forgiving others’ sins, and so we have an inescapable responsibility to forgive one another (i.e., to let go of judgment and retribution) and to put all judgment into the hands of the truly just and merciful Judge.

The second theme commonly associated with “mercy” (eleēmones) is “being compassionate towards the unfortunate” and giving alms. Jesus views this admonition with great seriousness, makes it almost universal in scope, and makes it a condition for a converted heart:

For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you welcomed me; I was naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to visit me (Mt 25:35-38).

Though this admonition might be viewed as a duty, Jesus hopes that it will be much more; for He desires a heart (interior disposition) of compassion that feels empathy with and sympathy for those who are suffering. This will allow acts of mercy to flow freely and easily from one’s core identity (instead of being only a duty imposed by God). As the Gospel of Luke makes clear, Jesus would like us to deepen our compassion even as His heavenly Father is compassionate (Lk 6:36). Luke uses Jesus’ parables to point to the heart of compassion: the father’s heart (in the Prodigal Son – Lk 15) and the Samaritan’s heart (in the Good Samaritan – Lk 10:25-37). He also shows the absence of such a heart in the rich man’s lack of compassion for Lazarus (Lk 16:19-31). Luke also brings Jesus’ heart to the fore in various pericopes (e.g., Jesus’ response to Zacchaeus – Lk 19:1-10, and Jesus’ response to the good thief – Lk 23:39-43). This is also clearly evidenced in the Synoptic Gospels’ accounts of Jesus’ compassion toward sinners (and those unwelcome by the Pharisees), those in need of healing,  and in the passion and Eucharist for the forgiveness of sins (Mt 26:28), and His universal injunction:  “Amen, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me” (Mt 25:40).

Jesus is asking us to cultivate empathy with and sympathy for the poor and misfortunate (including sinners and even those who hate us). He is asking us to see their dignity (even identifying their dignity with His own – “as you did it to one of the least of these…you did it to me”). In seeing the divine dignity (the image of God) in every human being, He hopes that we will not turn a blind eye to those who are in need. He hopes that we will find a way to take care of the “little ones” who cross our paths; the little ones in need of temporal and spiritual sustenance; those who are in need of hope or consolation, or simply in need of care, friendship, or human presence. By feeling empathy with and sympathy for the needy or misfortunate, Jesus hopes to give us a felt experience of the Father’s heart for us; and when we sense the unconditional magnitude of His heart, to be awed by the beauty and gratuity of His love, and thereby to be moved to even greater compassion.

The Sixth Beatitude: Blessed are the Pure of Heart
The Greek “katharoi” (“clean”) probably refers to external (ritual) purity or cleanliness. Jesus’ Jewish auditors were very familiar with this. However, the addition of “tē kardia” (“in heart”) changes the meaning significantly, for “heart” indicates interiority. It is difficult to reduce this beatitude to a Matthean redaction because it is so consistent with Jesus’ intention and teaching elsewhere in the Gospels. As McKenzie notes, the meaning of “purity of heart” (as distinct from external ritual purity) is set out in Mt 15:10-20 :

…not what goes into the mouth defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth, this defiles a person. …what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person. From out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person; but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile a person.

Matthew 15:10-20 looks at the heart as a source of defilement, but the heart can also be (and indeed, primarily is) a source of righteousness, for it is the means through which God makes His righteousness known (Lk 16:15; Rm 8:27), and is therefore the source of character (Mk 7:21; 2Cor 5:12) and love (2Cor 7:3; 6:11; Rm 5:5). According to McKenzie:

In the NT the heart is the seat of the divine operations which transform the Christian. The Spirit is sent into the heart (Gal 4:6), and the love of God is poured into the heart through the holy spirit (Rm 5:5; 2 Cor 1:22). Christ dwells in the heart (Eph 3:17). Je 31:31 ff is echoed in Rm 2:15 and 2 Co 3:3. The spirit of wisdom and revelation and the knowledge of Christ Jesus enlighten the eyes of the heart (Eph 1:17f) [italics mine].

So, how do we follow Jesus’ injunction to be pure of heart? How do we cultivate a heart of righteousness instead of a heart of defilement (from which defiling words and actions come)? We have already seen part of the answer in the fourth beatitude (hungering and thirsting for righteousness), for prioritizing our desire for the kingdom and will of God makes other desires find their proper (subordinate) place. But Jesus implies that there are other preparations to cultivate a clean heart. Prayer is certainly key (especially the petitions in the “Our Father”); so also is preparation for challenging times (e.g., to have sufficient depth of faith so that one’s faith is not overwhelmed by difficulties or suffering – see Mt 13:20-21); so also is the discipline and perseverance necessary to remain detached from the “glories of this world” (e.g., the thorn bushes that grow up with the wheat and eventually choke it off – see Mt 13:22); and the cultivation (through empathy and service) of a heart of compassion (the fifth beatitude). Prayer, depth of faith, steadfastness in faith, and the heart of compassion are four key tools to cultivate a clean heart – a heart of righteousness.

If Jesus asks us to be clean of heart, it reveals that He and the Father are unconditionally so. This gives us both joy and pause, for even to contemplate imitating the heart of God (the heart of Unconditional Love) is so daunting, that one is tempted to give up before even beginning. Yet when one considers that God’s heart is unconditionally humble, gentle, forgiving, compassionate, and unconditionally free from pride, jealousy, anger, and anxiousness, one can entertain the hope that God’s heart, speaking to one’s open, but imperfect heart, can draw the imperfect heart evermore deeply into His own. This gives rise to a freedom which allows every individual human destiny to find its fulfillment in Unconditional Love.

This may explain the promise that Jesus makes in connection with “purity of heart,” namely, “they shall see God.” A minimalistic interpretation suggests that purity of heart will enable us at least to gain admission to the presence of God, which will, in turn, draw us into His kingdom of unconditional Love. McKenzie does not believe that this promise is as extensive as the actual inheritance of the kingdom that comes from poverty of spirit or being persecuted falsely for the kingdom (“the kingdom of heaven is theirs”). Rather, he compares it to “gaining admission to the presence of God” in the sense of members of the royal court who gain access to the face of the king. In either case, preparing our hearts to receive God’s grace (that is, cultivating a clean heart) opens us to the humbleness of heart which assures us of the kingdom of God.

The Seventh Beatitude: Blessed are the Peacemakers
McKenzie notes that the Greek word, eirēnopoioi:

…does not represent the Hebrew phrase, “one who produces prosperity,” but means those who reconcile quarrels. Reconciliation is a Christian office often recommended in the Gospels; see 5:23-26.

Inasmuch as peacemaking is a Christian office, then it would seem to be an effect of the previous five beatitudes. Those who are being drawn more deeply into the humble-heartedness, gentleness of heart, forgiving heart, and compassionate heart of God will not only be fervent apostles of His kingdom and will, but will also be at peace, and will, therefore, be able to help others resolve their quarrels and quandaries. The promise made here is that these peacemakers will be admitted into the family of God (belonging to the group/circle of Jesus’ companions or apostles ). Thus, the beatitudes not only transform the heart, they also give rise to peace, which, in turn, can be shared with the rest of the Christian community.

Summary
By now it will be clear that Jesus’ principle concern is the conversion of the heart (interior disposition) which He believes will naturally lead to external loving actions. This priority assures that one’s loving actions will not be mere duties, but the delight of one’s heart.

Notice also that the beatitudes are positive dispositions of the heart. Later in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus mentions the avoidance of negative dispositions, but the placement of the positive before the “avoidance of the negative” implies that the latter is derived from the former. This positive appreciation of God’s loving heart (with its humility, peacefulness, mercy, and reconciliation) empowers us to avoid the negative attitudes (such as anger, illicit sexual desire, inordinate attachments to worldly things, and fears) which Jesus addresses later in the Sermon on the Mount.

In sum, Jesus has set out an interiorly-driven, positive, aesthetic view of spiritual development. One’s appreciation of the beauty and compassion of God extends naturally to the love and beauty of His kingdom, and then to the love and beauty of His will, and then to the love and beauty of a humble and gentle heart. This empowers loving actions (both positive ones and the avoidance of negative ones). The beatitudes should not be seen as mere stoic duty. They engender love of God, delight in God, delight in His kingdom and will, delight in virtue, and delight in the people whom that love and virtue serve. In short, the beatitudes, as their name suggests not only bring happiness in the heavenly kingdom, but also in the present world.

We may now return to the contention that the beatitudes provide an implicit categorial definition of love (agapē) in the teaching of Jesus. Recall what was said above about Paul’s implicit definition of love in Colossians 3:12-14 in light of the explanation of the beatitudes. The parallels are quite probative:

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion [beatitude #5], kindness [1Cor 13:4], humility [beatitude #1], meekness [beatitude #3], and patience [1Cor 13:4], forbearing one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other [beatitude #5]; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which is the bond of completeness. And let the peace [beatitude #7] of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body.

Evidently, Paul did not miss the point that the beatitudes lie at the heart of love which opens upon our eternal future and the very heart of God.

The Heart of God in Light of the Beatitudes
Recall from Section I that Jesus’ proclamation of “love as the highest commandment” reflects God’s unconditionally loving nature in two ways. First, inasmuch as God (the Father) and Jesus would not (hypocritically) ask of us what they are not capable of or willing to do, they must be able and willing to love with their whole heart, soul, and mind, revealing their unconditional Love. Secondly, Torah is a reflection of the wisdom and will of God. Since the highest commandment in Torah (upon which everything else depends) must be a reflection of the essence of the Law, it must also be a reflection of the essence of the wisdom and will of God. Unconditional love (loving with one’s whole heart, soul, and mind) must therefore reflect the essence of the wisdom and will of God, that is, the very essence of God, Himself.

As noted above, the beatitudes may be viewed as an unfolding of Jesus’ understanding of love. If God is Unconditional Love, and the beatitudes reflect Jesus’ definition of love, then every element of Jesus’ definition of love can be applied unconditionally to God. Therefore, a review of the six virtue beatitudes will give us a deeper insight into God’s unconditionally loving heart.

Let us begin with beatitudes #1 and #3, becoming poor in spirit (humble-hearted) and meek (gentle-hearted). If, as Jesus implies, God is Unconditional Love, and love entails humble-heartedness and gentle-heartedness, then God must also be unconditional humble-heartedness and gentle-heartedness. Jesus reveals this explicitly in His invitation to us to find solace through Him:

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am meek (praus) and humble (tapeinos) in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is gentle, and my burden is light. (Mt 11:28-30)

Jesus’ attribution of humility and gentleness of heart to Himself validates the above conjecture that God (the Father) and Jesus reflect the love and virtue that they ask of us. Thus, in the first and third beatitudes, Jesus asks us to be humble and gentle of heart and in Matthew 11:28-30, declares that these two attributes define the core of His heart (and, by implication, His Father’s heart as well).

It must be emphasized that the humbleness and gentleness of God’s heart is pure, unconditional, and perfect, which is revealed in Jesus’ later exhortation in the Sermon on the Mount: “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48). Notice that the context of this imperative is the love of enemies, which is the purest form of love (having no condition attached to it such as being loved by one’s beloved or some good quality of the beloved). This unconditional love is verified in the Lukan parallel which substitutes “compassionate” – oiktirmones –  for “perfect” (see Lk 6:36).

Thus, it seems quite reasonable to derive “unconditional humble-heartedness and gentle-heartedness in God” from the first and third beatitudes. Jesus’ subsequent revelations bear this out perfectly (see Mt 11:25-30, Mt 5:44-48, and Lk 6:36). God’s unconditional gentleness and humbleness of heart allow us to trust Him unconditionally. He will relieve us of our burdens, even the burden of our inauthenticity and bad faith, so long as we turn and come to Him in our need.

Let us now proceed to beatitude #4, hungering and thirsting for righteousness/salvation. We cannot apply this beatitude directly to God because desire is by definition incomplete (awaiting fulfillment). Nevertheless, we can apply the essence of this beatitude to God by saying that God is the unconditional will (instead of the mere desire) for our righteousness/salvation.

Now, if God’s will to save us is truly unconditional, then the only obstacle to our salvation would be our refusal of His will for us. God respects our freedom so much that He would not force us to accept a gift (even the gift of Himself) that we adamantly did not want.

We now proceed to beatitude #5, namely, becoming merciful. By now it will be clear that if Jesus asks us to be merciful, the Father and He must be unconditionally merciful. Once again, this is justified by Jesus’ admonition in Luke: “Be compassionate as your heavenly Father is compassionate” (Lk 6:36) which parallels Jesus’ admonition in Matthew:  “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect (Mt 5:48). The key characteristic of both Jesus and the Father is perfect (unconditional) compassion (oiktirmones) which is quite similar to Matthew’s “mercy” (eleēmones).

Recall that “mercy” refers to forgiveness. Thus, we may infer that Jesus views the Father as unconditionally forgiving – even to the most egregious and ungrateful of sinners, so long as they come back to Him with the prayer of the tax collector, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” Recall that Jesus promises unconditionally (“I tell you” – “legō humin”) that “this man went down to his house justified” (Luke 18:13-14). This promise of unconditional forgiveness and justification (even to tax collectors who were considered to be very serious sinners ) is completely validated in the parable of the Prodigal Son, where the father unconditionally forgives the sins of a son who, according to the old covenant, could not have been a greater sinner (see above, Section III).

Recall also that “mercy” refers to care for the poor, weak, and marginalized. Thus, the heart of the Father (and Jesus) is unconditional care (especially for the poor, weak, and marginalized). This is validated in the parable of the Good Samaritan, where it must be assumed that the Father could not possibly care about the injured traveler less than the Samaritan (who not only took care of the immediate needs of the unfortunate traveler, but also his future needs at the inn). Indeed, the Father’s (and Jesus’) care for all of us in every aspect of our temporal and spiritual poverty is unconditional and eternal. The heart of the Father is the heart of the Samaritan extended to its full perfection.

We now proceed to the sixth beatitude (purity of heart). Inasmuch as God is Unconditional Love, He must also be unconditional purity of heart, that is, He is perfect and unconditional authenticity (“purity of motive”). There is no disingenuousness, hidden motive, bad faith, selfishness, ego-centeredness, or ego-drivenness in him. His empathy with us and His love for us are inseparable from the purity and transparency of His own inner being, and for this reason, He can be trusted in all things, even in His desire to respond compassionately to us when we ask for salvation for the basest of motives (e.g., selfishness and fear). As the second highest commandment implies, God loves us as He loves Himself; and so He is disposed to finding every sliver of the savable within us and transforming it (even through the basest movements of our human freedom) into the unconditional love which He has prepared for us.

We may now proceed to the seventh beatitude, “peacemaking” (which means bringing reconciliation and resolution to quarrels). If Jesus exhorts us to make peace, then it follows that the Father’s heart is unconditional peacemaking and reconciliation. We may infer from this that it is the Father’s intention not only to share His peace with us for all eternity, but to bring peace out of the whole of human striving, and to bring reconciliation and healing to even the most painful and irresponsible aspects of human history.

In sum, the beatitudes give us a glimpse into the very nature and heart of God, that is, into the unconditional Love shared by the Father and the Son, which is the unconditional Love of the Spirit. God’s nature is the pure and perfect will for our salvation arising out of a perfectly authentically loving heart. That pure, authentically loving heart is unconditionally humble and gentle, and unconditionally forgiving and caring. It holds a special place for the weak, the poor, and the marginalized, and seeks peace and reconciliation in its purpose to bring about the salvation of all humankind. This is Jesus’ revelation of the heart of His Father which grounds our unconditional hope in salvation.