Should Christians Follow the Mosaic Law?

What the New Testament Actually Says—and Why It Matters Now

Most Christians settle the question of the Mosaic Law without ever quite asking it. They attend churches that celebrate Christmas and Easter, eat whatever they want, and observe Sunday worship, none of which appears in the instructions God gave Moses at Sinai. And they don’t lose any sleep over it, because some version of “Christ fulfilled the Law” was absorbed early, as ambient assumption rather than examined conviction.

Then someone asks a pointed question, or a friend starts talking about Torah observance, Sabbath-keeping, the Hebrew names of God, and the feasts of Leviticus 23. And suddenly the ambient assumption isn’t enough. You need to actually know what you believe and why.

This article is for that moment. We’ll work through the main New Testament texts, take the opposing argument seriously, and come to a conclusion: one, we think, the weight of Scripture clearly supports. Along the way we’ll name a specific contemporary movement that is asking this question with increasing urgency, and engage it on its own terms.

The question itself is simple: Are followers of Jesus, whether Jewish or Gentile, obligated to observe the Law of Moses?

The question is simple. The answer requires the whole New Testament to get right.

First, a Definition

The Mosaic Law—Torah, in Hebrew—refers to the legal and covenantal material given to Israel through Moses, centered in the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible). Rabbinic tradition later enumerated 613 commandments within this material, though the Torah itself never numbers its own laws. The 613 figure comes from the medieval scholar Maimonides, writing in the 12th century.

These commandments range across three broad categories that Christian theology has traditionally distinguished: moral law (commands rooted in the character of God, such as prohibitions on murder, theft, and adultery), ceremonial law (rituals governing sacrifice, purity, feasts, and the priesthood), and civil law (regulations for the governance of Israel as a national community). This tripartite distinction is a useful interpretive framework, though it is itself a theological construct rather than a category explicit in the text.

When someone asks whether Christians should follow the Mosaic Law, they are almost always asking about some subset—usually the moral core, sometimes the Sabbath, occasionally the dietary laws or feast observances. Rarely is anyone proposing the full 613, and for good reason: roughly 200 to 300 commandments are structurally inoperable without a standing Temple, a functioning Levitical priesthood, and a national Israelite polity. The Temple has not stood since 70 AD. Even observant Jews acknowledge this openly—the rabbinic tradition after the destruction pivoted to prayer, Torah study, and acts of lovingkindness as substitutes for sacrifice, a pivot that was itself a rabbinic innovation rather than a Mosaic prescription.

This matters for the discussion that follows. When someone argues that Christians should keep the Mosaic Law, they are already operating with a filtered, post-Temple, rabbinically interpreted subset. The question is whether that filtered subset carries binding covenantal authority over New Covenant believers—and by whose authority the filtering is done.

The Text Everyone Reaches For First

Matthew 5:17–18 is the anchor verse for those who argue that the Mosaic Law remains in full force:

“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)

This passage is cited as proof that Jesus upheld the Law entirely and expected his followers to do the same. And on a surface reading, that seems reasonable. But two words carry the entire interpretive weight, and neither of them can be left unexamined.

The first is “fulfill”. In Greek, the word is “pleroo”. Matthew uses this word sixteen times in his Gospel. In every single instance, it refers to something being brought to its designed completion—a prophecy reaching its fulfillment, a pattern arriving at its intended destination. Matthew never uses pleroo to mean “confirm and perpetuate indefinitely.” When Jesus says he came to fulfill the Law, he is saying he came to bring it to its purpose, to embody what it was always pointing toward, to be the substance of which it was the shadow.

The second is “accomplished”. The Greek is “ginomai”—to come to pass, to be completed. Jesus sets a condition: the Law stands “until everything is accomplished.” The natural question is: what was accomplished, and when? The answer comes from the cross. In John 19:30, Jesus’ final word before he dies is “tetelestai”: “it is finished.” The same semantic field, the same declaration of completion. If tetelestai announces the accomplishment of redemption, then the condition of Matthew 5:18 was met at Calvary.

Jesus did not come to lower the Law’s standard. He came to meet it—perfectly, on our behalf.

What Jesus goes on to do in Matthew 5:21–48—the “You have heard it said… but I say to you” passages—confirms this reading. He repeatedly takes Mosaic commands and intensifies them, pressing beneath the external regulation to the heart-level demand it always implied. He is not abolishing the Law. He is revealing its full depth, and then going to the cross as the only one who could satisfy it.

What Paul Actually Says

The Apostle Paul is the New Testament’s most extended wrestling partner with this question—and he is frequently misread in both directions. Some read him as dismissing the Law entirely; others, as preserving most of it. Neither reading holds.

Paul’s most concentrated treatment comes in Romans, Galatians, and the book of Hebrews (traditionally Pauline in influence, if not direct authorship). The statements are unambiguous in their sweep:

“For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace.” (Romans 6:14)

“So, my brothers and sisters, you also died to the law through the body of Christ, that you might belong to another… But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code.” (Romans 7:4, 6)

“Christ is the culmination of the law so that there may be righteousness for everyone who believes.” (Romans 10:4)

In Galatians, Paul is even more pointed, because he is addressing a specific group—the Judaizers—who were insisting that Gentile believers must be circumcised and keep the Mosaic Law to be fully saved. His response is not diplomatic:

“Mark my words! I, Paul, tell you that if you let yourselves be circumcised, Christ will be of no value to you at all. Again I declare to every man who lets himself be circumcised that he is obligated to obey the whole law.” (Galatians 5:2-3)

This last verse is particularly important. Paul is not saying circumcision is a minor addition to faith. He is saying that if you accept one part of the Mosaic covenant as binding obligation, you have enrolled in the whole system—and must keep all of it. You cannot selectively opt in to the parts you find meaningful. The Law functions as a unified covenant, not a buffet.

At the same time, Paul is careful to honor the Law’s dignity. He calls it holy, righteous, and good (Romans 7:12). He says faith upholds rather than nullifies it (Romans 3:31). He insists the Law was our guardian, our tutor, appointed to lead us to Christ—but a guardian whose role ends when the child comes of age (Galatians 3:24–25). The Law was never the destination. It was always the road pointing to one.

The Jerusalem Council’s Ruling

If there is a definitive institutional moment on this question in the New Testament, it is Acts 15—the Jerusalem Council. The occasion was precisely the dispute we are discussing: certain teachers were insisting that Gentile believers must be circumcised and keep the Law of Moses to be saved (Acts 15:1). The apostles and elders gathered in Jerusalem to settle it.

The room included James, the brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem church—the most Torah-observant community in early Christianity. If anyone was going to rule in favor of Mosaic observance for all believers, it was this group. Peter testified to God’s acceptance of uncircumcised Gentiles. Paul and Barnabas described signs and wonders among the nations. And James delivered his ruling:

“It is my judgment, therefore, that we should not make it difficult for the Gentiles who are turning to God. Instead we should write to them, telling them to abstain from food polluted by idols, from sexual immorality, from the meat of strangled animals and from blood.” (Acts 15:19–20)

Four requirements. Not the Sabbath. Not circumcision. Not the feast calendar. Not the dietary laws. Four requirements, which themselves echo the ancient Noahide framework applicable to all humanity—not the Sinai covenant applicable to Israel specifically.

The logic embedded in James’s ruling is significant: if Torah observance were a covenant obligation for all followers of Yeshua—Jewish and Gentile—this was precisely the moment to say so. The question was on the table. The most qualified people in the world were in the room. And they said: do not burden the Gentiles with the Mosaic yoke.

Notably, the letter that followed (Acts 15:23–29) was addressed specifically to Gentile believers, implying that the Jerusalem church’s own Jewish believers continued their Torah practice—not as a covenant obligation unto salvation, but as cultural and religious identity. This is an important nuance we will return to.

The apostles had one opportunity to require Mosaic observance of all believers. They declined it.

The Hebrew Roots Question

In recent decades, a growing movement within Christianity has returned to these questions with new urgency. Known broadly as the Hebrew Roots Movement, it is not a denomination—it has no central leadership, no creed, no formal organizational structure. It spreads through home churches, independent teachers, podcasts, and social media, and it has reached hundreds of thousands of Christians.

The Hebrew Roots position, at its most coherent, holds that Christ’s death did not end the Mosaic covenant but renewed and internalized it—that Torah observance remains the expected pattern of life for all who follow Yeshua, Jew and Gentile alike. Adherents typically observe the seventh-day Sabbath, the biblical feast calendar of Leviticus 23, and various dietary restrictions. Many prefer the Hebrew name Yeshua to the Greek-derived Jesus, and reject what they see as pagan contamination of Christian practice through holidays like Christmas and Easter.

There is something genuinely admirable in this impulse. The Hebrew Roots movement is, in part, a reaction against a real problem: the thinness of much contemporary evangelical Christianity, its disconnection from the Jewish matrix in which Scripture was written, and a cheap-grace antinomianism that has produced moral rootlessness. The hunger to recover the Jewishness of Jesus, to read the New Testament through Old Testament eyes, to take God’s law seriously as the expression of his character—these are not wrong instincts. They are, in many respects, healthy ones.

The error is not in loving Torah. The error is in treating the shadow as though the substance has not arrived.

Several specific arguments appear consistently in Hebrew Roots teaching:

Claim: Paul was not dismissing the Law—only the misuse of the Law as a means of salvation. Paul himself kept Torah, as evidenced by his Nazirite vow (Acts 18), his observation of feasts, and his circumcision of Timothy. Therefore Torah observance remains normative.

Response: This argument is partially true and ultimately insufficient. Paul did observe aspects of Torah—but 1 Corinthians 9:20 is explicit about why: “To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews.” Paul frames his Torah observance as missiological strategy, not covenant obligation. He was not bound to it; he chose it as a bridge. That is the opposite of the Hebrew Roots claim. And the circumcision of Timothy (Acts 16:3) was specifically for the sake of Jewish outreach—Paul explicitly refused to circumcise Titus (Galatians 2:3–5) when the issue was one of principle.

Claim: Jesus kept the Law, therefore so should we.

Response: But Jesus was born under the Law (Galatians 4:4), as a Jewish male in the Mosaic covenant, prior to his atoning death. He kept it on our behalf, perfectly, so that his righteousness could be credited to us. His perfect law-keeping is not our template to repeat—it is the gift we receive. Galatians 4:4–5 makes this precise: he was born under the Law “to redeem those under the law.” Redemption, not replication.

Claim: The jot and tittle argument from Matthew 5:17.

Response: We addressed this above. The word fulfill in Matthew’s usage means completion, not perpetuation. And the condition “until everything is accomplished” was met at the cross.

Finally, there is one more structural problem the Hebrew Roots argument must face: the question of which Torah. The oral Torah (later codified in the Mishnah around 200 AD and expanded in the Talmud) claims authority equal to the written Torah in mainline rabbinic Judaism. The Hebrew Roots movement, to its credit, generally rejects the Talmud and oral law. But this means it is already doing what it accuses mainstream Christianity of doing: selecting a subset of the tradition and treating it as the whole. The Torah that Hebrew Roots adherents follow is not the Torah of historical Jewish practice—it is a reconstruction, filtered through Protestant assumptions, organized by independent teachers with no authoritative rabbinic accountability.

The 613 commandments themselves are a medieval rabbinic enumeration. The Torah does not number its own laws. When a Hebrew Roots teacher says “we should follow God’s law,” the honest follow-up question is: which codification? By whose authority? Whose interpretation of the contested commandments?

The Shadow and the Substance

The book of Colossians contains what is perhaps the most economical summary of how New Covenant believers should relate to the Mosaic ceremonial system:

“Therefore do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink, or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration or a Sabbath day. These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ.” (Colossians 2:16–17)

Shadow and substance. This is the framework the New Testament consistently offers. The feasts, the Sabbath, the sacrificial calendar, the dietary laws—these were never the destination. They were the pattern, the outline, the forward-casting silhouette of a reality not yet arrived. When the reality arrives, the shadow does not cease to be meaningful—it becomes fully intelligible. You finally understand what it was always about. But you do not continue observing the shadow as though the substance has not come.

The book of Hebrews develops this theme at length. The Levitical priesthood was a copy and shadow of the heavenly sanctuary (Hebrews 8:5). The Law was a shadow of good things to come, not the realities themselves (Hebrews 10:1). And crucially—a change in the priesthood requires a change in the law (Hebrews 7:12). Jesus, from the tribe of Judah, not Levi, has been appointed as our High Priest after the order of Melchizedek. The Levitical system cannot accommodate him. Its replacement is not a loss—it is the arrival of what the system always promised.

None of this means the Old Testament loses its authority or its relevance to Christian life. Paul insists that all Scripture—including the Law—is profitable for teaching, correction, and training in righteousness (2 Timothy 3:16–17). Christians who study the feasts, who understand the sacrificial system, who trace the typology of the Temple—they are doing something genuinely enriching. The Law teaches us about the holiness of God, the depth of human sinfulness, the necessity of atonement, and the grace of covenant. These are not obsolete lessons.

The distinction is between the Law as instruction—still richly informative—and the Law as covenant obligation. The first remains. The second has been superseded by a better covenant (Hebrews 8:6), established on better promises, mediated by a better priest.

A Word on Jewish Believers

One important nuance deserves its own paragraph. The Acts 15 ruling was addressed to Gentile believers. The Jerusalem church—ethnically Jewish followers of Yeshua—continued their Torah observance throughout the New Testament period. Paul himself observed it for missiological purposes. Nothing in the New Testament forbids a Jewish believer from continuing to observe Torah as an expression of identity, community solidarity, and worship.

What the New Testament does not allow is the claim that Torah observance is required for salvation, or that it constitutes a higher form of discipleship obligatory on all—Jew and Gentile alike. This was exactly the position Paul confronted in Galatians and refused. A Jewish believer who keeps the Sabbath and the feasts out of love for God and solidarity with their people is doing something beautiful. A teacher who insists all believers must do the same or they are deficient in their faith is doing something Paul called a different gospel (Galatians 1:6–9).

The Law of Christ

If New Covenant believers are not under the Mosaic Law, are they under no law at all? Paul anticipates the question and answers it directly. Writing to the Corinthians, he says he is “not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law” (1 Corinthians 9:21). And in Galatians 6:2, he instructs believers to “carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

The law of Christ is not lawlessness. It is the moral vision of God—including the moral core of the Mosaic Law—internalized by the Spirit, animated by love, and oriented toward the One the Law was always pointing to. Jesus himself summarized it as loving God with everything you are and loving your neighbor as yourself, on which he said all the Law and the Prophets hang (Matthew 22:37–40).

This is not a lower standard than Moses. It is a higher one. The Sermon on the Mount makes clear that anger is the seed of murder, that lust is the seed of adultery, that integrity is the standard rather than oath-compliance. The Spirit-led life does not produce lawlessness—it produces what the Law always demanded but could never generate on its own.

“For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son… in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.” (Romans 8:3–4)

The believer does not return to the Law to find moral seriousness. The Spirit produces what the Law demanded—from the inside out.

Conclusion: What the Cross Changed

There is a question worth sitting with, whoever is reading this—whether you are working through this for the first time or in the middle of a conversation that prompted this article:

If Jesus’ death and resurrection did not change our covenant relationship to the Mosaic Law in any meaningful way—what exactly did it accomplish?

That is not a rhetorical trap. It is a serious theological question. The New Testament’s answer is that the cross accomplished everything the Law pointed toward and could not itself achieve: full atonement, permanent forgiveness, the righteousness of God credited to the unrighteous, the Spirit poured out on all flesh, the wall between Jew and Gentile broken down, and a new covenant inaugurated in the blood of the one Lamb to whom all the temple lambs were pointing.

The Mosaic Law was holy, righteous, and good. It was given to a specific people, for a specific period, for a specific purpose—to preserve the line through which Messiah would come, to make sin visible, to awaken the need for grace, and to cast the long forward shadow of everything Christ would be and do. It was never meant to be permanent. It was meant to be fulfilled.

And it was.

FURTHER READING

For those who want to go deeper, the following are reliable guides across the spectrum of this discussion:

Thomas R. Schreiner, 40 Questions About Christians and Biblical Law (Kregel, 2010). The clearest single-volume treatment of this question from a Reformed Baptist perspective.

Douglas Moo, “Shouldn’t Christians Obey the Old Testament?”—Desiring God (2024). A careful scholarly essay accessible to general readers.

L. Solberg, Torahism: Are Christians Required to Keep the Torah? (2019). Written by a former Hebrew Roots adherent; engages the movement sympathetically and critically from the inside.

For the covenantal framework underlying this discussion, see our earlier piece on Dispensationalism vs. Covenantalism at levaire.com/dispensationalism-vs-covenantalism.