"Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus love me. The Bible tells me so."
I grew up on this little song and probably so did many of you. It was an innocent refrain, a reassuring thought to small children. It portrays Jesus as a loving person. It suggests that while we are inadequate to the tasks of living, Jesus gives us strength. And, finally, it indicates that this is the reality in which we live because it says so in the Good Book.
The theology of that childhood lyric bothers me now - not so much the part about Jesus as a loving human being - as the other parts. I know I am sometimes weak, but not so weak that a first century Jewish prophet can give me all the strength I need. And that part about the Bible telling me so. I'm not so sure any more - not quite so sure.
This reflection leads me to a word about what have been called C and E Unitarian Universalists - those who tend to come to church only at Christmas and Easter - just like Protestants, and to a lesser extent Catholics. Now, don't get me wrong, I value the swelling attendance at these times of year - I welcome the C and E crowd. However, they miss out on what comes between his birth and death and its meaning.
The overwhelming emphasis of Christmas is on the miraculous birth of Jesus to a virgin - mistranslated from the word that really means "young maiden." It is a nostalgic legend which joyously celebrates the coming of new life into the world. However, there is relatively little of the message of Jesus in the birth story - great poetic images, but not much by way of teaching us how to live.
It is the same with Easter. Here the emphasis is on the resurrection, which we Unitarian Universalists have transmogrified into a parable of renewal - renewal of the earth - renewal of the human spirit. Of course, we admire the courage on the cross as a metaphor for facing our own demise. Again, this is fine, but that narrative, too, does not deal with the full-blown message of the man from Nazareth.
Our culture places great emphasis on these two holy days - not only exploiting their commercial potential, but also reminding us of the deep meanings of birth and death. However, despite the overwhelming stress on Jesus and Christian faith in our nation, there is precious little talk about the humanity of Jesus or what he came to do and say. There is frequent talk about being born again in Christ, but too little about what Jesus might mean for human behavior.
For example, what might the conversation be like if Jesus were invited to the White House for lunch? How would he feel about our "war on terrorism" in the light of his admonition, "love your enemies, do good to them that persecute you, forgive them that despitefully use you"? I suspect he would be bewildered and disturbed by the piety of the National Security Council as they pursue the first war of the 21st century.
Or, how would he feel about faith-based initiatives - this intermingling of religion and government? After all, when asked about tithes and taxes, he said "render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's." He might feel more comfortable in a meeting of Americans United for Separation of Church and State.
Or, how would he feel about tax cuts for the already wealthy? If we read our Gospels, we might remember that he is reported to have said it was "easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God."
Of course, we cannot really know what Jesus would say or do - despite the WWJD T-shirts worn by many evangelical youth in our time.
And it may not much matter, for Jesus lived and taught in a first century agrarian society, while we live in a 21st century post-industrial culture. He taught primarily an inner spirituality and a personal ethic. He was not really a social ethicist, nor did he aspire to political power. It is dangerous for anyone of any theological or ethical or political persuasion to presume to be doing what Jesus would do - including a liberal social justice activist like myself.
Jesus of Nazareth is one of the most cherished and most abused figures in human history. Debate over the theological meaning of this prophet of the human spirit has obscured his meaning as a man. The ecclesiastical superstructure built around his memory is formidable, but it, too, serves to hide the essence of an intriguing historical figure. As we vault into the Christmas season, we do well to pay attention to what this man might mean to us and how we might avoid the danger of corrupting him with our own projections of what we want him to be.
I am convinced that we modern folk, far from being challenged by the hard teachings of this first century Jew, try to mold him to our own prejudices and predilections. We look down into the deep well of the spirit seeking Jesus, and amazingly see our own visages reflected in that clear water.
If the Gospel writers, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, were the spin doctors of their day, trying to fashion this unique life into their own beliefs and hopes, then we have done at least as good a job in ours. Their intent was not biography or history, but gospel. Their intent was to make saints, not historians. Their purpose was religious, not historical. Now Jesus is at the heart of booming radio/TV ministries; he is at the center of the vast Christian church hierarchy; he is even at the core of political campaigns, presuming to uniquely bless certain candidates. Were he to come for lunch with Pat Robertson, or the Pope or the President, or even me, surely he would be amazed. It is not clear if he would be pleased or not. I have my doubts, but then, I don't presume to know.
A few years ago I read "the story of a medieval Irish monk who died and was buried, as was the custom, in the monastery wall. One day the monks heard noises from within the wall and removed the stones to find their brother alive and well. He began to tell them what he had learned on his journey beyond - and everything he said was contrary to the teachings of the church. So the brothers put him back in the wall and sealed the crypt forever."[1]
Jesus of Nazareth, the man, knew nothing of the creeds - Nicene or Apostles or Athanasian or Westminster. He knew nothing of original sin, or atonement or salvation or any of the terms now bandied about by Christian theologians. He would have been astounded at the ecclesiastical structures assembled over the centuries in his name. Jesus wouldn't have a clue about what it meant to be born again in Christ. All this was superimposed upon his life and work, extracted by theological mining of considerable imagination, grown out of the way his successors experienced him.
I cannot know for sure, but I can guess that he might not find it pleasing, so at odds is it with what I perceive as his basic gospel: do unto others as you would have others do unto you. And while many have been put to death for creedal deviation, we know of no church body which has executed anyone for having failed to live up to the Golden Rule. It is even questionable if this wandering Jewish teacher would consider himself a Christian. Now there is heresy!
But what is he to us - to wary Unitarian Universalists - many of us rebels from a Christian faith that was too restrictive? Clearly, we are not among the "born again Christians" of our time who have had a life-transforming experience of the Christ. No doubt many lives have been "saved" by this intense personal encounter, but it is not our encounter.
No, our encounter is much simpler, but I like to think quite authentic. We tend to take Jesus as he was - a first century teacher and prophet who went about doing good. I realize that is not quite as exciting as the "born-again" experience, but might it not be at least as powerful?
I was brought up on the religion OF Jesus rather than the religion ABOUT Jesus. The religion of Jesus - his teachings as he walked the roads of ancient Israel - quickly became the religion about Jesus - salvation by his death on the cross, the development of the Trinity and the creeds of Christendom. The religion of Jesus has more to do with the Sermon on the Mount than the virgin birth; more to do with the Golden Rule than with salvation of the soul; more to do with the Parable of the Good Samaritan than the Resurrection.
I like the simple phrase set forth by the German pastor and death-camp martyr Dietrich Bonhoffer, who described Jesus as the "man for others." That simple formulation ought to be deeply disturbing. It is, in fact, countercultural and flies in the face of all our culture teaches us about being number one, about constant competition for the goods of life, about our self-righteous zeal to smite the enemy.
I'm rather like the elderly woman, a Unitarian Universalist, who said to her son-in-law, an Episcopalian and a professor at Yale, "I'm not so sure about the deity of your Lord, but I do support his program." And what was his program?
Listen to what Jesus presumably said in the Sermon on the Plain:
"Blessed are you poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God.
Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be filled.
Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh.
But woe unto you that are rich, for you have received your consolation.
Woe unto you that are full, for you shall hunger.
Woe unto you who laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep.
But I say unto you which hear: love your enemies, do good to them which hate you,
Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.
And to those smite you on the one cheek offer also the other;
And those that take away your cloak forbid not to take your coat also.
And as you would that people should do to you, do you also to them likewise."[2]
Try to speak these words at the National Security Council, or in the board rooms on Wall Street, or in union halls, or the average church board meeting or in our own families, and imagine the reaction.
I do not suggest Jesus as the model for today's decisions about war and peace, race relations or the economy, vocational choices or how we use our money. "What would Jesus do?" is probably not the test I would use in everyday decision-making. I am inclined to doubt it really factors in the decision-making of many who so publicly claim how much he has influenced their lives. I don't believe he is the solution to all of life's problems.
I don't invoke Jesus much in sermons, but there he is in the background with his parable of the good Samaritan - the hated foreigner; his invitation to turn the other cheek, to love one's enemies; to be wary of wealth; to minister to the downtrodden - in short, simply being a perhaps illiterate Mediterranean peasant, the quintessential "man for others." His presence is more haunting than real, or is that haunting presence sufficient?
His almost subliminal presence in my life provides what Mark Twain called "the annoyance of a good example." He mingled with the poor far more than do I, who presumes to be one of their champions. He turned the other cheek, while I assail - albeit in words - the power and principalities of our nation whom I think lead us astray. He warned against concern for piling up wealth which moths can destroy, while I worry about my retirement stock portfolio. He turned over the tables of the money-changers in the temple, while I fret over whether my sermons on economic justice will make some parishioners mad. He had the courage to walk the talk all the way to Golgotha, while I calculate how I can be prophetic and not be hurt.
No, Jesus for me is not the kindly big brother of the song I learned in childhood. I haven't a clue as to whether Jesus loves me or not, if he ever thought so far into the future. I know I am too often weak, and do remember his strength of conviction, and that helps - sometimes.
And the Bible hints at words and deeds to which I cannot measure up. The gospel according to Jesus remains an unachievable goal - and maybe not even a totally desirable one at that. But the words do annoy me, they challenge my complacency, they disrupt my conventional wisdom, they disturb my liberal dogmas.
Jesus, the man for others, does provide me something very valuable - the annoyance of a good example. And perhaps that is enough.
Which shall it be?
The Christ of creeds, or the Jesus of history?
Which shall it be?
The religion about the Christ,
Or the religion of the prophet from Nazareth?
They are not the same.
The Christ of creeds leads to assurance -
Confidence in miracle, mystery, authority.
He suspends the ordinary rules;
He is veiled behind a myriad dogmas;
He puts an end to doubt.
The Jesus of history comes to us as brother -
One who bears the mark of the fellowship of pain;
Subjects himself to human hate, the anti-miracle;
Tears away the shroud of distant gods;
Disturbs our sleep with demand of love
By an authority deeper by far
Than a thousand creeds
Or ten thousand dogmas,
The authority of one who lived for others.I hope he'll be remembered.
Obscured by centuries of violence,
Clouded by countless creeds,
Dissected by a thousand scholars,
Preached from a million pulpits,
Mouthed by a billion lips,
Crucified by willful distortion
And innocent ignorance.
I hope he'll be remembered
In simple, unadorned humanity.
return to main page