Slaves in the Greco-Roman world were sometimes treated with kindness, but this was dependent upon the whims of masters, not legally required. Even domestic slaves, as mentioned in 1 Peter, were vulnerable to the demands of their masters, and 1 Pt 2:18 asks that they “accept the authority” of masters “with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh.” Possessing no right to the integrity of their own bodies, such a request could entail all forms of abuse, whether sexual, physical or other.

It is difficult in the 21st century to read the first-century advice that “if you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval.” This sort of advice seems to require a mute acceptance of cruelty and tacitly reward those who perpetrate it. As we have become more aware of human trafficking today, a form of slavery that flourishes all around us, what sort of message does this passage send?

It is important to remember that in the first century, slavery was a legal institution, and manumission was dependent upon individual owners. People who helped slaves escape were accountable to the law, and runaway slaves would be subject to bloody (and legal) retribution. Since the early church was small in number and politically insignificant, the early Christian response was to encourage slaves by offering Jesus’ own unjust suffering as “an example, so that you should follow in his steps.”

1 Pt 2:22–24, which some scholars believe was part of an early Christian hymn, offers a meditation on Jesus’ suffering in the context of Is 53:4–12, a Suffering Servant song. The genuine suffering of slaves in the first century is not denied, but aligned with Jesus’ own experience. In fact, all who suffer unjustly, even in the 21st century, can identify with Jesus as the one who “when he was abused, he did not return abuse…but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly.” Suffering is now given spiritual meaning, so that the effects of Christ’s own suffering are applied to those who suffer in the body of Christ.

But is there a danger here that we will watch silently from the sidelines as the weak and abused suffer? It cannot mean that. St. John Chrysostom, in his treatise “On Vainglory” (No. 69), instructed Christian boys to accept misfortune when it occurred, but “never to allow another to undergo this.” Wherever suffering and injustice occur, it is our task to bring it to an end through our witness. Yet there are times when we or others might suffer unjustly, and despite all attempts to bring it to an end, we must endure it. It is here that the model of Jesus helps us understand that as Jesus was vindicated through his innocent suffering, so, too, through his suffering he has healed us and will heal us from all our wounds.

I do not want to suffer. I do not want those I care for to suffer. Really, I do not want anyone to suffer, but when we do, it is important to know that the Good Shepherd knows our suffering. 1 Peter says that we “were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.” Is 53:6 makes it clear, in fact, that the source of the Good Shepherd’s suffering emerges because the sheep have gone astray and “the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

Jesus’ innocent suffering can help us make sense of our own suffering and give it spiritual purpose as we work to end it. His suffering also allows us to align ourselves with those who today are enslaved, physically abused, bullied or who are vulnerable for myriad other reasons. As we ourselves endure suffering and act to bring the suffering of others to an end, it is important to recognize that the goal of the Good Shepherd is not to create suffering, but to bring it to an end. We bear witness that the Good Shepherd has come that we “may have life, and have it abundantly” and to bring us all safely into the sheepfold.

This article appears in April 28-May 5 2014.

John W. Martens is an associate professor of theology at the University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, Minn,where he teaches early Christianity and Judaism. He also directs the Master of Arts in Theology program at the St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity. He was born in Vancouver, B.C. into a Mennonite family that had decided to confront modernity in an urban setting. His post-secondary education began at Tabor College, Hillsboro, Kansas, came to an abrupt stop, then started again at Vancouver Community College, where his interest in Judaism and Christianity in the earliest centuries emerged. He then studied at St. Michael's College, University of Toronto, and McMaster University, with stops at University of Haifa and University of Tubingen. His writing often explores the intersection of Jewish, Christian and Greco-Roman culture and belief, such as in "let the little children come to me: Children and Childhood in Early Christianity" (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2009), but he is not beyond jumping into the intersection of modernity and ancient religion, as in "The End of the World: The Apocalyptic Imagination in Film and Television" (Winnipeg: J. Gordon Shillingford Press, 2003). He blogs at  www.biblejunkies.com and at www.americamagazine.org for "The Good Word." You can follow him on Twitter @biblejunkies, where he would be excited to welcome you to his random and obscure interests, which range from the Vancouver Canucks and Minnesota Timberwolves, to his dog, and 70s punk, pop and rock. When he can, he brings students to Greece, Turkey and Rome to explore the artifacts and landscape of the ancient world. He lives in St. Paul with his wife and has two sons. He is certain that the world will not end until the Vancouver Canucks have won the Stanley Cup, as evidence has emerged from the Revelation of John, 1 Enoch, 2 Baruch, and 4 Ezra which all point in this direction.