Hajj or the Finished Work of Christ?

There is a well-known hadith that says the accomplishment of the Hajj results in the complete wiping away of sin:

"Whoever performs Hajj for Allah and does not have sexual relations, nor commit sin, nor dispute unjustly during Hajj, will return (free from sins) as on the day his mother gave birth to him.” (emphasis mine, as in other citations) (Sahih al-Bukhari 1521, Sahih Muslim 1350a)

I have quoted verses below that counter that thought, but it would be a shame to be heard to say we don't believe in pilgrimage at all. We do, but not in the way Muslims practice hajj. Psalm 84 speaks of the blessedness of pilgrimage to Jerusalem. But note the blessedness of being close to God's altar, that is the place of animal sacrifice.

We do not seek an earthly city but a heavenly one. But Jerusalem as was, with its altar and the shed blood of animals, is a vital picture for us of what we are spiritually 'climbing' towards. We can use the songs of ascent (Psalms 120-134) to stir up our sense that we are journeying towards the heavenly Jerusalem.

The hadith holds out a glorious hope of sins wiped away, but Christians believe that this can only ultimately be achieved through the shed blood of Jesus Christ. God removes sin completely through Christ’s atoning death and resurrection. We don't even have to turn to the NT to see this, though 1 Peter 3:18 makes this very clear. He died for us, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring us to God.

A hajj is hardly a just solution to the problem of our sin. Sin deserves death. Anything less makes God out to be unjust, a god who sweeps our sins under the carpet. I tend to stress the greatness of God (Allah hu Akbar), so that we are starting with their own declaration about God and using that to undermine what they are asserting about the way of forgiveness.

Perhaps the most succinct verse to quote is Jesus' words on the cross: "It is finished!" (John 19)

The beautiful and poetic verses below could also be good ones to share with someone who plans to, or has gone on hajj. 

Psalm 103:10–12 (NIVUK)

“He does not treat us as our sins deserve
or repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.”

Micah 7:18–19 (NIVUK)

“Who is a God like you,
who pardons sin and forgives the transgression
of the remnant of his inheritance?
You do not stay angry for ever
but delight to show mercy.
You will again have compassion on us;
you will tread our sins underfoot
and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.”

Zechariah 3:9 (NIVUK)

“See, the stone I have set in front of Joshua! There are seven eyes on that one stone, and I will engrave an inscription on it,’ says the LORD Almighty, ‘and I will remove the sin of this land in a single day.’”

Christians have often seen this promise as pointing forward to the day of Christ’s atoning sacrifice, when God dealt decisively with sin through the cross.

Image: Josefa de Óbidos: The Sacrificial Lamb (Wikimedia)

Speaking of migrants: a Christian reflection on language and welcome

Photo By © Raimond Spekking / CC BY-SA 4.0 (via Wikimedia Commons), CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44032356

 Speaking of migrants: a Christian reflection on language and welcome

How we speak about people from overseas matters. For Christians, our words should reflect God’s heart for the stranger – the one who comes from afar and is to be loved as one of our own (Leviticus 19:34).

This is not the place to discuss borders, nationhood and mass migration. It's about how we speak of migrants and is more to do with churches than government policy.

I'm well aware that politically correct activists have tried to police our language and re-engineer society by changing the terminology we use. Often they are obscuring important realities, remvig fior eaxmople the norm that society is made up of covenantally-bound husbands and wives and levelling evrything to 'partners', as if the covenant of marriage wasn't significant.

However, we think using words, and it is worth taking a few minutes to think about how we speak of foreigners in our midst.

Common terms like ‘migrant’ and ‘immigrant’ are widespread but often freighted with dislike. ‘Migrant’ evokes movement without destination; and ‘immigrant’ flattens what is often a much more complex identity, thnking onlt of how these people have 'come here'. These folk carry with them a whole heritage which they don't lose at the border.

The most helpful term I've found is ‘diasporic neighbour’, aside from the inconvenience that there is no singular noun for this type of migrant –  it doesn;t work to label Ahmed the barber a ‘diasporus’. But it is a useful term. The original diaspora was the dispersion or scattering of the Jews after the Exile. They lived as natives of Babylon, Crete, Rome and so on, but still had a heartfelt attachment to their place of origin – in large part because of a theologically framed identity: think Daniel stretching out his hands three times a day to pray to Jerusalem. And the command to appear before God three times a year at the major festivals.

Some prefer ‘internationals,’ a term friendlier in tone, especially used for overseas students. Yet it glosses over the major differences between the more middle or upper class overseas students, who are really 'sojourner' on a short-term visa, as distinct from migrants who've come to settle here – and who are often more blue-collar, working in shops and other service industry jobs. Similarly, ‘SOLs’ (Speakers of Other Languages) can identify a demographic in the neighbourhood but focuses on linguistic difference – rather a functional label.

We might talk about ministry to asylum seekers, although if we're being precise asylum seekers become refugees the minute their claim is accepted. Hence the mouthful: "refugees and asylum-seekers".

Other labels like ‘Asians,’ ‘ethnic minorities,’ or ‘people from overseas’ can unintentionally flatten complex identities, defining people by their otherness. By contrast, ‘newcomers’ carries a sense of welcome and journey, though it implies a recent arrival which may not always fit.

I love the phrase ‘the nations on our doorstep’ – it captures a biblical vision of global community. Yet, again, there is no singular form: we have no way to say ‘a nationian on our doorstep’ about an individual.

The Greek word in the NT for foreigner is ‘xenos’ (ξένος) – a stranger. We all know the word xenophobia. But are we imbued with xenophilia? Actually the word in Hebrews 13:2 is that word with the two parts flipped: philoxenia. But let's not forget that hospitality to the xenos is a key hallmark of Christian faith – we may even entertain angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2).

Therefore, our language must serve empathy and love, not fear and dislike. We should choose words that honour our neighbours and avoid reducing people to problems or projects. Sometimes this will mean choosing more relational terms: neighbour, friend, newcomer, and trying to use people’s names rather than just speaking of a demographic category.

Words are seeds. They grow into attitudes, and attitudes shape our communities. As Christians, we are called to sow words of welcome that reflect the Kingdom we belong to, which is a gathering of many ethnicities, and it is happening on our doorstep in churches with those from many peoples and languages worshipping the Lord together.