Because of its tenacious insistence that Jesus was fully human—as we are—the New Testament permits itself some daring assessments of how this man completed his God-given assignment. The priestly metaphor that becomes quite common in the book of Hebrews flows easily into this stream, for the priests Israel knew were, quintessentially, specially placed human beings assisting other human beings who lacked the same vocation.
Like those other human priests, we read, Jesus did not appoint himself a priest but rather received this assignment from God. The discourse further underscores the degree to which this priest named Jesus is like us:
In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, having been designated by God a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek.
We pragmatic students of early Christian history find it easy to assess the doctrinal struggles over the nature of Jesus’ person as the kind of antiquarian infighting that occurs among religious scholars who ought to get out a bit more. It is wise not to rush to such dismissive judgement.
In the text quoted above, a writer close to the events in question who cared very deeply about nourishing the community of the now-departed Jesus’ followers with a true report of who this man was and remains, is tracing critically important lines in the sand. Later conversation partners who could not bear the audacious description of Jesus’ humanity would be asked to leave the Christian fellowship, even declared heretics. We owe their ‘orthodox’ opponents at least the benefit of the doubt regarding motive.
Jesus was like us, the writer reports. So much like us that he wept. He assaulted heaven with his aggrieved prayers. He learned through what he suffered.
This is the kind of thing very good priests do. Even the one among them whom God called ‘my son’.
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