The Politics of Jesus

August 11, 2016

My 2016 Ongoing Journey: Exploring Matthew to discover what following Jesus and becoming more like him would look like.

Matthew 17:24-18:5 ~ This is a strange text: it’s got corrupt religious officials, religious taxes, a rabbinic riddle, a Hans Christian Anderson-like fairy tale solution; then it ends with a discussion about politics.

At some point the the tithe had become a legally binding “Temple Tax.” That’s just one of the ways religion is corrupted when it attains political power. Jesus compares the temple tax with tribute exacted by a conquering king.

The clear implication is that the temple tax is illegitimate and thus not binding. But, in order to avoid any occasion for valid criticism of his movement, Jesus performs the old “coin-in-the-fish’s-mouth” trick and sends Peter off to pay the tax.

In context, this event immediately follows the transfiguration, the disciples' failed healing, and the second prediction of the passion. It then leads to the disciples’ question about who will be greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Do you grasp the irony? They’ve just encountered the corrupting results of political power, and their next response is to ask, essentially, “What positions of political power will we have in the kingdom?” It wouldn’t be the last time they made such an inquiry.

I sincerely believe the greatest human problems—individually, relationally, politically and globally—emerge out of issues of power and control. The relationship between government and any other social manifestation always has been (and, apparently, always will be) a bone of contention among people.

The question of centralized government (The Federalists, led by Alexander Hamilton, John Adams, George Washington, James Madison, et. al.) versus states’ rights (The Anti-Federalists, led by Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, George Mason, James Monroe, et. al.) almost derailed the ratification of the US Constitution. Indeed, it was essentially that same debate that precipitated the secession of the Confederacy scarcely ¾ of a century later. It’s at the root of today’s political belligerence.

Political debate always has been about who will control who. At the infamous bottom line, while it may seem a simple lust for power, its root is fear and an absence of trust. (Whether the fear and absence of trust is justified is a valid issue for another discussion.)

Jesus’ response to the disciples’ lust for power? “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (18:3-4). How’s that for a political platform?

If I am to follow Jesus, what does that say about my political stance? What would you do if you weren’t afraid?

That's the way it looks through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

We Have Met the Enemy

When the late Walter Wink wrote that religion all too often neglects the soul in its preoccupation with institutional maintenance he echoed the cry of the millennial—“spiritual but not religious”—generation. In response, the religious community accuses that generation of not being faithful. Faithful to what? Generally faithfulness is judged by conformity to a specific doctrine—ours.

Western Christianity’s competitiveness to identify and enforce “correct” doctrine has led to an “us vs. them” mentality. Such a dichotomy always leans toward an exclusionary witness and doctrine that is enforced with power and often with violence.

Regarding people with that mind-set, a recent blog stated, “To them, the Bible is a message of selective grace… Conveniently, they always see themselves as privy to special revelation that’s given only to them and the select few who adhere to their strict rules, practices, and traditions. They view God’s ‘love’ as exclusive rather than inclusive.” He continues, “The concept of ‘the mystery of God’ is a direct threat to their ideologies. Therefore, almost every situation and question has an answer and explanation. Everything is black and white — nothing is unknown.”[1]

In this outlook “we Christians are the good guys with the good book, and ‘they’ (feel free to insert your own enemy here, be it Jews, Muslims, Fundamentalists, Liberals, etc.) are the bad guys with the bad book. So rather than deflecting the blame to some “other” we need to have a way to recognize and deal with the problem of violence in ourselves—in our culture, nation and faith.”[2]

Wink points out the human tendency to locate evil outside ourselves. In ancient times people did this by projecting demons and evil spirits. Flip Wilson’s alter ego, Geraldine, put it this way: “The Devil made me do it!”

But, Wink insists, “None of these ‘spiritual’ realities has an existence independent of its material counterpart. None persists through time without embodiment in a people or a culture or a regime or a corporation or a dictator.”[3]

Perhaps the greatest barrier to human reconciliation and unity is the unwillingness of so many to consider, even remotely, “What if I’m wrong?”

During conflict resolution, when I confront people with the question, “But, what if you’re wrong?” the invariable response, almost without fail, is, “But I’m not.”

There is a world of difference between, “I believe this with all my heart, and I stake my eternal destiny on that belief,” and “I’m right. Period;” between, “That’s just wrong!” and “I have a problem with that.”

The insecurity-driven obsession over control has risen to demonic levels; and yet even as we try to convince ourselves that we are in control, we simultaneously whine and complain about all the ills that happen to us. Bottom line: we control nothing—except our own choices.

Derek Flood takes up Walter Wink’s idea by suggesting that as Israel moved into a monotheistic faith, the people still had a need to locate evil outside themselves. But with only one deity, the only place to lay blame for evil was God. So in the earliest phase of their monotheism, God was credited with both good and evil.

“When disaster comes to a city, has not the Lord caused it?” (Amos 3:6)

When David’s infant son died, according to II Samuel, it was the Lord who had struck the child (II Samuel 12:15), because, “I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers!”

Later counter-testimony emerges in Ezekiel: “As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign Lord, you will no longer quote this proverb in Israel … He will not die for his father’s sin, he will surely live … The son will not share the guilt of the father, nor will the father share the guilt of the son” (Ezekiel 18:3, 17, 19).

And by the time of Jesus, Israel was addressing the obvious moral difficulty of attributing acts of evil to God. They simply attributed it to the devil.

Jesus affirmed that God is not the author of evil, and that our response should be the same as God’s, namely, compassion and care. Suffering is never to be considered a part of God’s will; rather, it is to be opposed in the name of love.

The process of identifying the source of evil outside ourselves is an exercise in self-deception. Of course some things the ancients called evil still manifest themselves beyond our choice and control. No one would choose cancer, or a tornado or Tsunami. But we do control our choices and our responses to those events that transcend our control.

Since at least the early 4^th century when Constantine decreed the Roman Empire to be “Holy” and enforced a bastard Christianity through the power of the state, the ugly truth is that human choice more frequently has chosen to follow the way of the Pharisees than the way of Jesus. Therefore, the history of the Christian movement has been bloody.

The first step in following Jesus is to cleanse our own house—to rid our lives of the myth of “redemptive violence” so we might pursue the way of love and peace. That may require us to face the hard question: “What if I’m wrong?” or to admit, in the immortal words of the prophet from Okefenokee, “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

That’s the way I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] http://sojo.net/blogs/2015/03/31/7-reasons-christians-refuse-change

[2] Derek Flood, Disarming Scripture: Cherry-Picking Liberals, Violence-Loving Conservatives and Why We All Need to Learn to Read the Bible Like Jesus Did (San Francisco: Metanoia Press, 2014), Kindle edition, Location 1085.

[3] Walter Wink, The Powers that Be: Theology for a New Millennium (New York: Doubleday Galilee, 1999), Kindle edition, Location 360.

Trust is the Opposite of Certainty

We have seen that Jesus interpreted Scripture in the rabbinic spirit of faithful questioning motivated by love. We have noted that Jesus’ interpretation of Scripture was in direct contrast to that of the Pharisees and other religious leaders of his time, who read the Scriptures in a spirit of unquestioning obedience and were motivated by an obsession with correct doctrine. The Pharisees were concerned about who was “right” and who was “wrong,” and were determined to enforce their “right” understanding, even if such an effort required violence.

We have said that over the centuries the Church has tended not to follow the pattern of Jesus, but rather to follow the pattern of the Pharisees, striving to maintain orthodoxy and labeling those who disagree as heretics. The result has been a long history of various manifestations of the church enforcing their authority through violence or the threat of violence—all in God’s name.

The struggle to know what is “right” has replaced Grace as the foundation of faith. In far too many cases our trust is more in the correctness of our doctrine than in the Grace of God. Such an application of religious faith establishes an “us vs. them” mentality, which always leans toward an exclusionary witness and far too often is forcefully inflicted.

While the exclusionary witness establishes categories for judging who is acceptable and who is not, Jesus’ witness was to go out among the outcasts and the fringe people—to eat with them, to touch them and through loving inclusion to restore their lives to wholeness. Too often our approach has been to demand that those on the outside become “like us” before they can gain admission and acceptance. Our doctrine becomes "the way, the truth and the life."

We all read Scripture selectively, and justification can indeed be found for both approaches. They stand in direct contradiction within the Holy writ, and we choose one way or the other:

1.       The way the Pharisees chose: unquestioning obedience to what they had determined to be the “right” doctrine (Law), and enforcing that doctrine as the prerequisite of faithfulness—excluding (and sometimes punishing with violence or threat of violence) all who do not conform (including Jesus).

2.      The way Jesus chose: faithful questioning the violence in Scripture and bearing witness to unconditional love (Grace), including all humanity in a divine embrace of reconciliation and restoration. All humanity. And "All" means "All."

Our celebrated First Amendment rights which grant freedom of speech and religion actually came about in direct response to the church’s legacy of persecution and rampant bloodshed committed in the sincere (but sincerely wrong) effort to maintain purity of doctrine. As a result of those Constitutional rights, there are no more burnings at the stake today.

So, what is the greater wrong: not getting the formulation of the Trinity quite right, or slaughtering those who do get it wrong? What is the greater sin: questioning a doctrine or working to destroy people’s careers and livelihoods because they question it?

Equally important as what we profess is how we profess it and how we live what we profess. When we act in any way to harm others in the name of Scripture or faith or morality we demonstrate that we are neither scriptural, moral nor faithful. Jesus said the whole law and the prophetic writings were predicated upon love of God, love of neighbor and love of self (Matthew 22:36-40). And Paul wrote, “Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law” (Romans 13:10) When we do not act in love, nothing we do is right, and nothing is faithful, not even according to the law.

The simple formula of the New Testament witness is “Grace Trumps Law.” It’s simple; but it’s not easy. It requires that we “let go” of our efforts to justify ourselves through adherence to “right” doctrine, and that we instead “take hold” of the Grace God offers and surrender to the power of that Grace to mold us into the likeness of Jesus. That whole process of “letting go” and “taking hold” is called “Trust.” Trust is the opposite of certainty, and certainty is a first cousin of control.

And we are a culture of control addicts. Maybe we need a 12-Step program to facilitate recovery. “Hello. My name is Jim; and I’m a controlaholic.”

That’s the way I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim