Numbers 25:10 Adonai said to Moshe, 11 “Pinchas the son of El‘azar, the son of Aharon the cohen, has deflected my anger from the people of Isra’el by being as zealous as I am, so that I didn’t destroy them in my own zeal. 12 Therefore say, ‘I am giving him my covenant of shalom, 13 making a covenant with him and his descendants after him that the office of cohen will be theirs forever.’ This is because he was zealous on behalf of his God and made atonement for the people of Isra’el.”
This is the only time in the Bible where a “Covenant of Shalom” is given.
Now, it’s easy to look at this and read it with the idea that this is a covenant of peace, but based on what led up to this, “peace” really doesn’t make sense. In the English language, peace typically means something like calm, quiet, nice, conflict-free living, emotional peace, etc -- essentially, an absence of trouble. But that is a far cry from where we stand right here. There is rebellion, immorality and death surrounding this entire event. Something else must be going on.
If we truly want to understand the Covenant of Shalom we need to look at the larger picture.
So what led up to this? Let’s jump back a few verses and see if we can extract a little context.
Numbers 25:1 Isra’el stayed at Sheetim, and there the people began whoring with the women of Mo’av. 2 These women invited the people to the sacrifices of their gods, where the people ate and bowed down to their gods. 3 With Isra’el thus joined to Ba‘al-P‘or, the anger of Adonai blazed up against Isra’el.
4 Adonai said to Moshe, “Take all the chiefs of the people, and hang them facing the sun before Adonai, so that the raging fury of Adonai will turn away from Isra’el.” 5 Moshe said to the judges of Isra’el, “Each of you is to put to death those in his tribe who have joined themselves to Ba‘al-P‘or.”
6 Just then, in the sight of Moshe and the whole community of Isra’el, as they were weeping at the entrance to the tent of meeting, a man from Isra’el came by, bringing to his family a woman from Midyan. (Maftir) 7 When Pinchas the son of El‘azar, the son of Aharon the cohen, saw it, he got up from the middle of the crowd, took a spear in his hand, 8 and pursued the man from Isra’el right into the inner part of the tent, where he thrust his spear through both of them — the man from Isra’el and the woman through her stomach. Thus was the plague among the people of Isra’el stopped; 9 nevertheless, 24,000 died in the plague.
Coming off of the Balaam and Balak cursing-blessing episode, we see the men of Israel begin whoring with the women of Moab and Midian. That then walked them straight into serving another god, Ba’al P’or. Notice the language that follows: With Isra’el thus joined to Ba‘al-P‘or…
Israel, YHVH’s beloved, was now joined to another. Devastating.
Although curses from the outside could not penetrate the covenant between Abba and His people, it most certainly could be violated from within. Even though he couldn’t curse them directly, Balaam knew what would work, which is why he encouraged Balak to send the women after them. Moses references this a few chapters later:
Numbers 31:14 But Moshe was angry with the army officers, the commanders of thousands and the commanders of hundreds coming in from the battlefield. 15 Moshe asked them, “You let the women live? 16 Why, these are the ones who — because of Bil‘am’s advice — caused the people of Isra’el to rebel, breaking faith with Adonai in the P‘or incident, so that the plague broke out among Adonai’s community!”
And Yeshua even echoes this in His words to John in the Book of Revelation:
Revelation 2:14 Nevertheless, I have a few things against you: you have some people who hold to the teaching of Bil‘am, who taught Balak to set a trap for the people of Isra’el, so that they would eat food that had been sacrificed to idols and commit sexual sin.
Grown men who should have known better were swayed by the advances of these women and it cost many of them their lives. 24,000 of them to be exact.
As death swept through the camp, Moses and the people wept over the tragedy that was unfolding before them. But not everyone seemed fazed. Just then, a man came walking by the entrance to the Tabernacle with a Midianite woman in tow. And not just any man, but a leader from the tribe of Simeon.
Picture the moment.
Death was all around and the people were weeping openly. The bodies of tribal leaders that aligned with Ba’al P’or hung out in the fullness of the sun. A plague was making its way through the camp and this man had the audacity to showcase his sin literally before God and everybody.
What can possibly be done in this exact moment? A side-eye towards the offender? Some murmuring with other offended people? Maybe a bold staredown? Or even some choice words? Not quite.
Enter Phinehas.
Phinehas was the son of Eleazar, and grandson of Aharon. He was a priest but not yet a high priest. But that didn’t matter.
With this open rebellion flaunted before his very eyes, Phinehas did the unthinkable. He said not one word but instead rose from the crowd, grabbed a spear, and followed that couple into their tent. I don’t have to tell you what happens next but it is enough to say that his actions in that tent stopped the plague that was swiftly moving through the camp.
Phew!
A lot of people end their investigation into these events right here at this point: a group of people chose covenantal suicide and the judgment that was chasing them as a result was stopped in its tracks by a man as zealous as God Himself. Simple, right? Apparently, when death is coming for the masses all you have to do is find an example to eliminate and the judgment goes away.
But is this the end of the story? Actually no, it’s just the beginning.
And that beginning is with the Covenant of Shalom.
What is shalom?
Is it fair to even translate it as “peace”? We saw above what shalom is not (simply an absence of trouble), but what is it exactly? The Biblical definition of shalom means: wholeness, right order, life protected, God’s presence dwelling among His people.
Shalom is not the absence of conflict. It is the presence of restored order. This definition sets the stage for everything that follows.
In Numbers 25, Israel is not “struggling”, they are defiantly rebelling. Sexual immorality, idolatry, and public covenant-breaking behavior was a choice. Not being able to dwell in the presence of sin, Abba’s presence was endangered and death began spreading through the camp.
This is a shalom emergency.
At this point, Israel was already at war with God due to the position of their hearts. It is important to know that Phinehas did not create conflict, he ended it. He responded decisively and with that, Abba gave him a Covenant of Shalom. A covenant of wholeness. A covenant of right order. A covenant of life protected. A covenant of God’s presence dwelling among His people.
This was not vigilante justice that resulted in divine favor. It was something far greater: YHVH could be reunited with His people.
It is important at this point to issue a very stern warning: This event is descriptive, not prescriptive. It reveals God’s zeal for holiness and life, but it does not hand us a template for human violence.
What Phinehas actually did was to guard sacred space. Think about it. Why would Moses and the people have been weeping at the entrance of the Tabernacle during this time? If I had to guess, it was to petition Abba to relent, to have Him remove the plague from among the people. A prayer meeting perhaps. And this “leader” of Israel decided to brush against the House of God with his overt sin?
If you want to sin outside of the camp, then go outside the camp. Do not bring it in. This man’s arrogance (maybe due to his position of leadership?) had him think he would be immune to the death that crept around his own feet.
But Phinehas stopped this corruption in its tracks.
We know that without the shedding of blood, there is no atonement. Phinehas, even though he was not high priest, made atonement for all of Israel (a reality that ultimately points beyond Phinehas to Yeshua). This was necessary.
One of the most profound things of all though, is that Phinehas preserved life by confronting sin. This is the Heart of Abba. God wants us to live. But the only way we can is by confronting our sin, not suppressing it. And most certainly, not by flaunting it.
This is precisely what the prophets shouted from the mountaintops.
So often, we long for a false peace. One in which we can ignore sin, avoid confrontation, and delay judgment. The kind of peace that feels kind but kills slowly. Why is that? Well, because it’s easy. Plainly speaking, we don’t have to do anything and all is well in the earth. But it isn’t really, is it. What we get instead is a lazy and ineffectual Christianity. Little to no authority and definitely no power. Sound familiar?
But we are called to something greater. We are stewards and we have a responsibility. More than that we are sons. And true sons look an awful lot like their Father. There is authority that comes from walking in sonship and we are supposed to be utilizing that in full (not partial) measure. It’s this responsibility and authority that revolutionizes people’s lives.
This is largely the base-level message of the prophets. They clarify what happens when shalom is misunderstood.
The prophet Jeremiah exposes what happens when leaders mistake silence for shalom. Speaking to a nation already fractured by idolatry and injustice, YHVH indicts those entrusted with spiritual authority:
Jeremiah 6:14 “They have healed the wound of my people lightly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace.”
The problem is not that the leaders spoke of peace, it is that they pronounced wholeness where corruption still reigned. The wound was real, deep, and festering, yet it was treated as superficial. Instead of confronting sin, calling for repentance, and restoring covenant order, they offered reassurance. Calm replaced correction. Comfort replaced truth.
“You’re fine. Besides, you are just a fallible human being. No one can keep God’s standards. That’s why we have grace.”
The fallout is devastating. Declaring peace prematurely does not prevent judgment, it guarantees it because nothing has actually been healed. Shalom cannot exist where disorder is left intact. Jeremiah shows us that false peace is not neutral, it is lethal. It delays repentance, dulls discernment, and allows destruction to spread quietly beneath religious language. This is why Scripture treats “peace, peace” as a warning, not a blessing. When leaders refuse to name what is broken, the cost is always paid by the people.
This is the opposite of Phinehas’ action. Where Phinehas confronted corruption to preserve life, Jeremiah’s leaders concealed corruption and ensured collapse. One restores shalom, the other postpones judgment until it arrives in full force.
But another message is spoken by the prophet Ezekiel.
Where Jeremiah exposes false peace, Ezekiel gives us the anatomy of true shalom. Speaking to a people already in exile, Ezekiel does not begin with reassurance. He begins with cleansing:
Ezekiel 36:25 “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses…
26 I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you.”
Peace is not the starting point, purification is. Disorder must be addressed at the root, not managed at the surface. Only after this internal restoration does Ezekiel describe the outcome:
Ezekiel 37:26 “I will make a covenant of peace with them. It shall be an everlasting covenant…
27 My dwelling place shall be with them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”
Notice the sequence: cleansing, restoration, God’s presence -- and peace as the result. This is the same pattern established in Numbers 25, now projected forward into covenant renewal. Shalom is not declared, but instead it emerges when holiness is restored and God can safely dwell among His people again.
Ezekiel makes clear what Jeremiah warned: peace cannot be spoken into existence while disorder remains. It must be built through repentance, transformation, and reordering of the heart. Only then does shalom become sustainable, not as emotional calm, but as covenant wholeness.
Shalom always follows repentance, never the other way around. Shalom is never the starting line, it is always the fruit.
Jeremiah shows us the danger of calling disorder “peace”, and Ezekiel shows us that true shalom is forged through cleansing, restoration, and God’s indwelling presence.
But an even greater Prophet came and took this to a whole new level.
Most people are under the impression Yeshua came to remove the covenant that was made with God’s people at Sinai. The truth is that He came to establish it in its intended fullness. No longer will the commands of God rest on tablets of stone, but instead they will be written upon our hearts.
But this is not a new idea.
From the beginning, the Torah was never meant to remain external. Though it was written on tablets of stone at Sinai, it was always intended to be written on a circumcised heart. Moshe himself said, “These words which I am commanding you today are to be on your heart,” and later promised that YHVH would circumcise the heart of His people so they could truly love Him.
The problem was never the Torah. The problem was the human heart. Stone tablets could define righteousness, but they could not produce it. Obedience enforced from the outside could restrain behavior, but it could not heal desire. What the Torah required externally, the prophets foresaw would one day be accomplished internally.
This is exactly what Jeremiah and Ezekiel proclaim. Jeremiah announces a coming covenant where the Torah would no longer be written on stone, but on the heart itself, not abolished, not softened, but relocated. Ezekiel explains how: a new heart, a new spirit, and the Spirit of God placed within His people, causing them to walk in His statutes.
The only thing that has happened is that the battleground has shifted. No longer is the primary concern merely outward compliance, but inward transformation. Sin is no longer addressed only at the level of action, but at the level of affection, motive, and allegiance. The call is no longer simply to restrain evil behavior, but to deal with the source before it bears fruit.
This promise is picked up again in the writings of Hebrews, which directly quotes Jeremiah, and in the letters of Paul, who speaks of the Torah fulfilled in those who walk by the Spirit. This is not a departure from covenant faithfulness, but its maturation. The internalization of Torah creates a people who do not merely avoid wrongdoing, but who actively confront whatever threatens wholeness, first within themselves, then within their communities.
When the Torah is written on the heart, peacekeeping is no longer sufficient. Something deeper is formed: a longing for true shalom, for right order, for restored relationships, for God’s presence to dwell unhindered.
And this is where peacemaking is born. When the heart is circumcised and the Torah is internalized, the desire to preserve comfort gives way to the courage to restore order. Peacemakers are not those who ignore conflict, but those who address what fractures wholeness at its source. They do not manage appearances, they pursue healing.
They are willing to confront sin not to destroy sinners, but to protect life, restore communion, and guard the dwelling place of God. This is why peacemaking is ultimately a matter of sonship. Sons care about the health of the household. Sons reflect the heart of the Father. And it is precisely here, on this internal battleground, among those shaped by a law written on the heart, that Yeshua will stand and say,
Matthew 5: 9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”
With the Torah written on our hearts and the Spirit dwelling within us, our role in this life fundamentally changes.
We are no longer merely recipients of instruction or subjects of command. We become participants in restoration. The battleground has moved inward, but the mission has expanded outward. We are called to actively cooperate with what God is doing in us, cutting off sin at the root before it produces death, disorder, and fracture.
This is not self-improvement, it is stewardship. The heart has become sacred space, and what happens there either preserves shalom or undermines it.
This internal work reshapes how we engage the world. Because we are being reordered from the inside out, we are not sent into the world as peacekeepers whose goal is to maintain calm, avoid tension, or protect appearances.
We are sent as peacemakers, people who understand that true peace is forged through truth, repentance, and restoration. We confront what destroys wholeness not with spears, but with humility, courage, confession, and love rooted in holiness. The aim is never punishment for its own sake, but life.
Just as Phinehas acted to stop death from spreading through the camp, we are called to stop death at its source, beginning in our own hearts and extending into our relationships, families, and communities.
This is why Scripture consistently frames peacemaking in terms of sonship. Sons do not abdicate responsibility when the household is threatened. They do not confuse silence with wisdom or comfort with love. Sons reflect the character of their Father, who confronts sin precisely because He desires life.
The internalization of Torah forms a people who do not merely ask, “What am I allowed to do?” but rather, “What preserves life, restores order, and honors God’s presence here?” Peacemaking becomes not an occasional task, but a way of being, the natural fruit of hearts aligned with God’s own.
It is here that Yeshua is revealed not merely as a teacher of peace, but as its source and embodiment: the Prince of Peace.
Yeshua does not bring peace by ignoring sin, nor by negotiating with disorder. He brings peace by fully confronting sin, bearing its judgment, and breaking its power at the root. On the cross, He does what Phinehas did in shadow: He halts the spread of death so that God can dwell among His people again. Where Phinehas acted with a spear to stop corruption in the camp, Yeshua acts with His own body to cleanse the heart. The method changes, the goal does not.
In this way, the story comes full circle. The Covenant of Shalom granted to Phinehas was never about violence. It was about zeal for life, holiness, and God’s dwelling among His people. Yeshua fulfills that covenant perfectly, not by killing sinners, but by killing sin itself.
And now, united with Him, we are drawn into that same work. Not as executioners, but as restorers. Not as peacekeepers, but as peacemakers carrying forward the work of true shalom until God’s presence fills all things once again.
And it begins with us.
When Yeshua opens the Sermon on the Mount, He does not introduce a new ethic. He unveils what a Torah written on the heart looks like in real life. This is why He begins with blessing, not command.
The Beatitudes describe the kind of people who emerge when the inner life has been reordered: poor in spirit, meek, merciful, hungry for righteousness. These are not personality traits but are evidence of an internal transformation. And right in the middle of them stands the declaration that brings everything we’ve traced into sharp focus: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”
This is not sentimental language. It is covenant language. Sons act on behalf of the Father to protect the household. Their views of others and their desire for life are united.
Yeshua then immediately demonstrates what peacemaking actually entails by moving the battleground inward.
Matthew 5:21 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not murder’... 22 but I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment.”
This is not a lowering of the standard, it is an intensification of it. Murder is not the beginning of violence, it is the end of a process that starts with unchecked anger, contempt, and dehumanization.
Peacemakers do not wait for bloodshed to intervene. They confront resentment early, reconcile quickly, and refuse to allow hostility to take root. This is Phinehas’ zeal transposed into the heart: stopping death before it spreads.
What Yeshua exposes here is the anatomy of broken peace. Anger is not morally neutral irritation, it is the seedbed of contempt. Left unchecked, it reshapes how we see another person, not as a brother or sister, but as an obstacle, an enemy, or a fool. That inner contempt eventually finds a voice in cutting words, sarcasm, withdrawal, or character assassination disguised as honesty. By the time relationships rupture, the damage was already done long before the final outburst. Murder, in this sense, is not merely an act. It is the final stage of a long internal process.
Peacemaking interrupts that process early. A peacemaker does not wait until the relationship is beyond repair. They recognize anger forming, bring it into the light, and submit it to truth before it hardens into hostility. They refuse to rehearse offenses internally, refuse to weaponize words, and refuse to let bitterness gain a foothold. Instead, they move toward reconciliation (sometimes awkwardly, sometimes at personal cost) because restored relationship matters more than preserving pride. This is not weakness, it is courage. It is the willingness to cut out the root so that the whole body can live.
This is what it means to restore shalom at the root, not by suppressing sin, but by confronting it early so life can flourish again.
The same pattern follows with lust, retaliation, and enemy-love.
Adultery is traced back to desire, vengeance to pride, hatred to fear. Over and over, Yeshua exposes the root systems that fracture shalom long before outward sin appears. The call is not merely to avoid wrongdoing, but to actively uproot whatever threatens wholeness.
This is why peacemaking is costly.
It requires honesty with oneself, courage in relationships, and a willingness to deal with uncomfortable truths rather than masking them with religious calm. Peacekeeping manages symptoms whereas peacemaking performs surgery.
And this brings us full circle. What Phinehas did in the camp of Israel (stopping corruption so that God’s presence could remain) Yeshua now calls His disciples to do internally and relationally. The spear is gone, but the zeal remains.
The goal has never changed. It’s always been about shalom. Wholeness, right order, life protected, God dwelling among His people. Those who engage in this work are not merely moral people or conflict-resolvers; they are recognized as sons, because they bear the family likeness. They do not declare “peace, peace” where there is no peace.
They do the harder, holier work of restoring order so that true peace can finally take root.
Everything Yeshua is doing here is moving shalom from concept to practice. If the battleground is within, then peacemaking is the outward fruit of an inwardly reordered life.
What does it mean to be a peacemaker today? Well, let’s start with what it isn’t.
Peacemakers are NOT conflict-avoiders.
We live in a conflicted world. Avoiding tension does not make it disappear, it simply allows it to grow underground. A conflict-avoider notices resentment building in a marriage, division forming in a community, or bitterness taking root in their own heart and chooses silence because speaking feels risky. The result is not peace, but delayed fracture. Peacemakers step into tension early, naming what is wrong while there is still room for healing, because they understand that unaddressed conflict eventually explodes or calcifies.
Peacemakers are NOT image-managers.
Image-management prioritizes how things look over what they actually are. It shows up when leaders protect reputations instead of people, when families hide dysfunction to appear healthy, or when believers avoid hard conversations because they don’t want to be seen as “judgmental.” Peacemakers refuse to sacrifice truth on the altar of appearance. They understand that shalom cannot be maintained by optics, because God’s presence does not dwell where reality is denied.
Peacemakers are NOT silence-keepers.
Silence can feel wise, but silence that protects sin or allows harm to continue is not Biblical restraint, it is abdication. Silence keeps abusive patterns intact. Silence allows gossip to masquerade as concern. Silence enables destructive behavior to gain momentum. Peacemakers discern when restraint is appropriate and when speaking is necessary, and they choose the harder path of loving confrontation when lives, integrity, or covenant faithfulness are at stake.
Peacemakers are NOT moral relativists.
Relativism calls disorder “difference” and destruction “personal truth.” It avoids the discomfort of moral clarity by flattening everything into preference. But if nothing is truly wrong, nothing can truly be healed. Peacemakers reject this lie. They believe that God’s definition of good is not oppressive, but life-giving and that refusing to name what destroys people is not compassion, but neglect.
Instead, a peacemaker is a truth-teller, boundary-setter, healer of what is broken, willing to absorb relational cost, and fully committed to restoration, not destruction.
So how does this actually look?
A peacemaker confronts sin with humility and clarity.
Not with accusation, not with superiority, but with honesty rooted in love. This may look like addressing a pattern of bitterness before it poisons a friendship, calling out dishonesty in oneself before pointing it out in others, or lovingly challenging a brother or sister whose choices are leading toward harm. The goal is never to win, it is to restore.
A peacemaker refuses to normalize what destroys people.
We have become incredibly desensitized. Behaviors that fracture families, hollow souls, and erode integrity are often excused as normal, inevitable, or harmless. Peacemakers resist that drift. They refuse to call poison medicine, even when culture applauds it. This refusal is not rooted in fear, but in love for life and wholeness.
A peacemaker addresses issues early, not explosively.
They do not store grievances until they erupt in anger or withdrawal. They practice quick repentance, timely forgiveness, and honest communication. Small course corrections preserve shalom far more effectively than dramatic confrontations after years of neglect.
A peacemaker calls people up, not casts them out.
They hold people accountable while keeping the door to restoration open. They distinguish between confronting behavior and condemning identity. Even when boundaries must be drawn, the aim remains healing and return, not exile.
A peacemaker restores order so life can flourish again.
Because shalom is not calm, it is wholeness. When order is restored, relationships heal, trust regrows, and God’s presence is welcomed rather than hindered.
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When Phinehas ran the spear through that man and woman, peace was restored by removing corruption from the camp. Today, peace is restored by removing corruption from the heart. Peacemakers do not kill sinners. They confront what destroys shalom so that people, communities, and God’s presence can thrive again.
Living like this is costly. Peacemakers are misunderstood, labeled divisive, blamed by both sides, and rarely applauded. But this is precisely why Yeshua calls them blessed — because they are doing Abba’s work in a broken world.
And that is why “they shall be called sons of God.”