The "Torah Observant" Movement in Christianity (Good, Bad, Some of both?)

Sarah sat at her kitchen table, surrounded by grocery lists and meal planning charts, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her friend had recently joined a "Torah Observant" Christian group and had been passionately explaining why she needed to throw out her bacon, mark Saturday as the only true Sabbath, stop following Christian holidays and celebrate Jewish feasts instead, and start learning the Jewish dietary laws.

"We need to get back to the original faith," her friend had insisted. "Jesus was Jewish, the apostles were Jewish—shouldn't we be following what they followed?"

It’s a compelling argument on the surface. After all, didn’t Jesus himself say, "Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished" (Matthew 5:17-18)?

Sarah’s dilemma echoes a controversy that nearly tore apart the earliest Christian community—and understanding how the apostles resolved it might save us from losing one of Christianity's most precious gifts: the freedom Christ won for us.

 

The Jerusalem Council

Picture the scene: It’s approximately 50 AD in Jerusalem. The room is packed with apostles and elders, the air thick with tension. Jewish believers from the party of the Pharisees stand to make their case with passionate conviction: "It is necessary to circumcise them and to order them to keep the law of Moses" (Acts 15:5).

The "them" in question were Gentile believers—non-Jews who had embraced faith in Jesus as Messiah. The stakes couldn’t have been higher. This wasn’t merely about religious practices; it was about the very nature of salvation itself.

Were Gentile believers second-class citizens in God’s kingdom unless they became fully Jewish? Did Christ’s sacrifice create a new covenant, or did it simply open the door for Gentiles to enter the old one?

Peter, the same man who had once needed a vision from heaven to convince him to enter a Gentile’s home (Acts 10), now stood to address the assembly. His words would have shocked many of his Jewish brothers:

"Now then, why do you try to test God by putting on the necks of Gentiles a yoke that neither we nor our ancestors have been able to bear? No! We believe it is through the grace of our Lord Jesus that we are saved, just as they are" (Acts 15:10-11).

Feel the weight of those words. Peter, an observant Jew his entire life, was declaring that even Jews themselves hadn’t been able to perfectly bear the yoke of the full Mosaic Law. More radically, he was proclaiming that salvation came through grace, not through law-keeping—for both Jew and Gentile alike.

The Jerusalem Council’s decision was masterful in its wisdom and restraint. They rejected the first point posed by the Christian Pharisees entirely (that the Gentiles must be circumcised) and rejected the second point, albeit with some qualifiers. Rather than requiring Gentiles to observe the entire Mosaic Law, they issued only four requirements: "abstain from food sacrificed to idols, from blood, from meat of strangled animals, and from sexual immorality" (Acts 15:29).

Notice what’s conspicuously absent from this list. No requirement for circumcision—the very sign of the Abrahamic covenant. No mandate for Sabbath observance on Saturday. No prohibition against pork or shellfish. No requirement to observe the Jewish festivals. The hundreds of commands in the Torah were distilled down to four basic requirements.

 

The Noahide Connection

But why these four? The answer connects to an ancient Jewish concept that many modern Christians have never heard of: the Noahide Laws.

Jewish tradition held that after the flood, God gave Noah certain universal commandments that applied to all humanity, not just to Israel. These were seen as the basic requirements for Gentiles who wanted to worship the God of Israel—those known as "God-fearers" who attended synagogue but hadn’t fully converted to Judaism.

The Jerusalem Council’s requirements closely parallel these Noahide principles, focusing on the most essential elements that would allow Jewish and Gentile believers to share table fellowship without causing offense.

As James explained, "For the law of Moses has been preached in every city from the earliest times and is read in the synagogues on every Sabbath" (Acts 15:21). In other words, these minimal requirements would allow Gentile believers to participate in the community without scandalizing Jewish believers who were still adjusting to this radical inclusion.

 

The End of the Scaffolding

The Apostle Paul, himself a former Pharisee who knew the Law inside and out, became the great champion of Gentile freedom from the Law. His letter to the Galatians is a passionate defense against those who would force Gentile believers back under the yoke of the Law.

"You foolish Galatians!" he writes with evident frustration, "Who has bewitched you? Before your very eyes Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified... Are you so foolish? After beginning by means of the Spirit, are you now trying to finish by means of the flesh?" (Galatians 3:1-3).

Paul’s argument wasn’t that the Law was bad—he calls it "holy, righteous and good" (Romans 7:12). Rather, he argued that the Law had served its purpose as a guardian and teacher, leading people to Christ. "So the law was our guardian until Christ came that we might be justified by faith. Now that this faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian" (Galatians 3:24-25).

Think of it this way: scaffolding is essential when constructing a building, but once the building is complete, the scaffolding must come down. To leave it up would obscure the beauty of what was built. The Mosaic Law was the scaffolding God used to prepare for the coming of Christ. Now that Christ has come, to insist on the scaffolding is to miss the glory of what God has accomplished.

 

Fulfillment vs. Abolition

But what about Jesus’ words that he came not to abolish but to fulfill the Law? This is where we need to understand the profound difference between abolition and fulfillment.

To abolish would be to declare the Law wrong or worthless. To fulfill is to bring something to its intended completion and perfection. Consider a seed and a tree. When a seed grows into a mighty oak, the seed hasn’t been abolished—it’s been fulfilled.

Its purpose has been perfectly realized. You can no longer see the seed because it has become something greater, yet everything the seed was meant to be is now gloriously present in the tree.

Jesus fulfilled the Law in multiple ways:

He perfectly kept its moral requirements, something no other human had ever done.

He fulfilled its ceremonial requirements by becoming the perfect sacrifice that all the animal sacrifices had merely foreshadowed.

He fulfilled its civil requirements by establishing a new kind of kingdom not bound by ethnic or geographic boundaries.

As Augustine beautifully expressed it, "The New Testament is hidden in the Old, and the Old Testament is revealed in the New" (St. Augustine, Questions on the Heptateuch, 2.73).

 

How Things Changed in 70 A.D.

Understanding the early church’s relationship with the Law becomes even clearer when we consider what happened in 70 AD. Jesus had warned his disciples about the coming destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple: "Truly I tell you, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down" (Matthew 24:2).

This wasn’t just the destruction of a building—it was the definitive end of the entire sacrificial system.

The period between Christ’s resurrection in 33 AD and the Temple’s destruction in 70 AD represents a unique transitional period in salvation history. During these roughly forty years—a biblically significant period reminiscent of Israel’s wilderness wandering—the old and new covenants existed simultaneously.

When Roman legions finally destroyed the Temple, it wasn't merely a military catastrophe—it was a theological exclamation point. The sacrificial system, the priesthood, the very heart of Mosaic Law observance became impossible to maintain. This "middle coming" of Christ in judgment, as some theologians describe it, made clear what the apostles had been teaching: the old covenant had been definitively superseded by the new.

Jesus actually indicated that the coming destruction (in 70 A.D.) was a kind of middle-coming. Jesus made this clear in a rather striking way in his trial. When the High Priest asks if He is the Messiah, Jesus replies:

"I am. And you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven." (Mark 14:62).

Notice the timing: He tells the High Priest—a man who would be dead long before the end of the world—that he would see this happen. To the Jewish leaders, this was a clear reference to Daniel 7:13, where the Son of Man ascends to the Ancient of Days to receive a kingdom.

By saying they would see Him "coming on the clouds," Jesus was warning them that they would witness His vindication. In the Old Testament, God is frequently described as riding on the clouds when He comes to judge a specific nation. For example, Isaiah 19:1 says:

"See, the Lord rides on a swift cloud and is coming to Egypt. The idols of Egypt tremble before him..."

When God "came" to Egypt on a cloud in the 8th century BC, the Egyptians didn't see a literal figure in the sky; they saw the Assyrian army invading. The "cloud" was the theological reality—the sign that God was behind the historical catastrophe.

When the Temple was destroyed in 70 AD, it served as the historical proof that Jesus was exactly who He claimed to be, and that His judgment on the city had been executed.

In Matthew 24:30, Jesus says, "Then will appear the sign of the Son of Man in heaven." Many theologians interpret this not as a sign in the physical sky, but as a sign that the Son of Man is in heaven (enthroned).

The destruction of the Temple was the "sign" that the Old Covenant age had officially ended and that the King was now reigning from His heavenly throne. This "Middle Coming" wasn't the final end of the world, but it was the definitive end of the Old Covenant world. It proved that Jesus had indeed been given "all authority in heaven and on earth," and He used that authority to judge the system that had rejected the corner-stone.

Jerome, writing in the fourth century, observed: "As long as the Temple stood, Jewish Christians could observe the Law without sin, though without profit. But after its destruction, to observe it was not only unprofitable but sinful, because it was to deny that Christ had fulfilled it" (St. Jerome, Epistle 112).

 

The Testimony of the Early Church

How did the immediate successors of the apostles understand this freedom from the Law? The evidence is overwhelming.

The Didache, possibly written while some apostles were still alive, gives extensive moral teaching but no requirement for Sabbath observance on Saturday or dietary restrictions beyond the Jerusalem Council’s requirements (Didache, 8, 14).

Justin Martyr, writing around 150 AD, explicitly states: "But Sunday is the day on which we all hold our common assembly, because it is the first day on which God, having wrought a change in the darkness and matter, made the world; and Jesus Christ our Saviour on the same day rose from the dead" (St. Justin Martyr, First Apology, 67).

The Letter to Diognetus, an early Christian apologetic work, beautifully captures the Christian position: "For the Christians are distinguished from other men neither by country, nor language, nor the customs which they observe... they dwell in their own countries, but simply as sojourners. As citizens, they share in all things with others, and yet endure all things as if foreigners" (Letter to Diognetus, 5).

Ignatius of Antioch, who knew the Apostle John personally, wrote to the Magnesians: "If, therefore, those who were brought up in the ancient order of things have come to the possession of a new hope, no longer observing the Sabbath, but living in the observance of the Lord's Day, on which also our life has sprung up again by Him and by His death... how shall we be able to live apart from Him?" (St. Ignatius of Antioch, Letter to the Magnesians, 9).

Living in Liberty

The freedom won at the Jerusalem Council wasn’t freedom from morality—it was freedom from ethnic boundary markers that would have forever kept Christianity a subset of Judaism. It was freedom from a system that, as Peter admitted, no one had been able to perfectly keep.

Paul captures this beautifully: "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery" (Galatians 5:1). This freedom doesn’t lead to lawlessness but to something higher—life in the Spirit, producing fruit that no law could ever mandate: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

So how do we apply this understanding to our daily lives?

First, we must treasure our freedom without abusing it, remembering Paul’s warning: "You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love" (Galatians 5:13).

Second, we should respect those whose consciences lead them to observe certain practices, while not allowing them to bind others' consciences. Paul addresses this extensively in Romans 14, stating: "Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind" (Romans 14:5).

Third, we must remember that our identity comes not from what we do or don't eat, but from our union with Christ. "For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love" (Galatians 5:6).

Finally, we should approach those caught up in law-keeping movements with compassion. Often, the attraction to such movements stems from a genuine desire to please God. We must gently show them that Christ has already pleased the Father perfectly on our behalf.

 

The Lord's Day: A Perpetual Rest

While the specific Mosaic regulations of the Saturday Sabbath are no longer binding, the principle of "Sabbath observance" remains a vital part of the Christian life, transformed into the celebration of the Lord's Day. This is not a return to the Law, but a recognition of the new creation.

As Pope John Paul II explained in his 1998 Apostolic Letter Dies Domini:

"The Sabbath, which for the first Covenant was the last day of the week, was transformed by the Resurrection into the first day of the week... On the Lord's Day, the Church is always recalling the 'rest' of God after the work of creation, but she also recalls the 'rest' of Christ, who has entered into his glory after the labor of the Passion" (Pope John Paul II, Dies Domini, 18).

This rest is not merely the cessation of work, but a participation in the joy of the Resurrection. For the Christian, the Sunday rest is a "day of freedom" and a "day of joy" that allows us to focus on the things of God, ensuring that our lives are not consumed by the "yoke" of worldly labor, but are instead refreshed by the grace of the New Covenant.

 

Conclusion

Sarah, sitting at her kitchen table, doesn’t need to throw out her bacon or restructure her week around Saturday observance. The apostles, in their wisdom guided by the Holy Spirit, already fought this battle and won this freedom for her.

The Jerusalem Council stands as a perpetual witness that Gentile believers are full members of God’s family through faith in Christ, not through adoption of Jewish identity markers. To return to "Torah Observance" is an attempt to rebuild what God himself has torn down—to return to the scaffolding when the building stands complete.

As you go about your week—striving to find ways to rest and re-focus on Sundays without missing the point of Christ's victory, enjoying foods that Old Testament law would have forbidden, and living as citizens of heaven while fully present as a witness within your own culture—remember that you walk in a freedom purchased by Christ’s blood and preserved by the apostles’ courage.

Don’t let anyone convince you to trade that freedom for a yoke that even those born under it couldn’t bear. Stand firm in the liberty Christ has won, and use that liberty to love God and neighbor with the very love of Christ himself.