We’ve just celebrated Easter. Or at least some of us did. I found faith in my early 20s, and if I’d seen Christianity back then as I so often see it manifested today I’m not sure I’d ever have made the leap.
Because the public face of the church, whatever the denomination, is frequently obscured and scarred by anger and bigotry. It’s as though organized Christianity has baptised homophobia, an obsession with women’s reproductive rights, and in North America a hideous support for gun ownership, sealed borders, and Donald Trump. The rhapsody of the Gospel message has been shattered by the discordant blasts of ultra-conservatism and the cult of individualism.
That twisting of the original message isn’t new of course. A 1st-century Jewish teacher, whom I believe to be the Messiah, preached peace, justice, inclusion, the transformation of the self and the wider community, and a permanent revolution of love. The early church remained consistent but it didn’t take long for the state to co-opt and corrupt, and we’ve all read of inquisitions, crusades, and brutality.
It’s not surprising, in that power corrupts and religious power corrupts with self-righteous rigour. But why now, when Christians are so exposed to their dark history, and to the genuine teachings of Christ? I think it’s based on fear of the brave new world that challenges us, a fear that has come to the surface especially since the 1960s, when so much that was considered permanent was doubted. There was no better place to hide than behind scripture, church, and God. It’s deeply ironic, in that Jesus roared of the need to be open to the most radical change possible.
He also realised this on a personal level, and the two people who changed him were hardly of his comfort zone. One was a Roman centurion, the symbol of all that the Jewish people hated, who asked Jesus to heal his loved servant. That relationship, by the way, has a special intimacy in the original Greek text, that some believe indicated a same-sex romance. Either way, Jesus is stunned by this pagan occupier’s faith.
The next is a Canaanite woman, from a nation considered Israel’s bitter enemy. She too asks for a healing, Jesus is reluctant, but her sincerity changes his mind. Indeed, women are profoundly significant in the entire story. It’s women who see him resurrected on that first Easter, while the men were sceptical.
So, a refusal to change, and to evolve through empathy and experience, is almost heretical in its rejection of the paschal narrative. Jesus says not a word about homosexuality or abortion, warns of the dangers of wealth, power, and legalism, and prefers the company of the marginalized and rejected to that of the accepted and admired.
Some years ago, I was approached by a man living on the street. He wanted money, and was clearly in a terrible state. His clothes were ripped, he was dirty, and he smelt. I told him I wouldn’t give him cash but would buy him some food. He thanked me. I walked into the corner shop a few yards away. He followed me. People turned to look, the owner was clearly wondering whether he should throw this man out. I picked up a sandwich, some milk, a bar of chocolate, and went to the counter to pay. The man stood next to me. In all honesty, I was embarrassed.
Then the woman behind the counter said this: “Are you together?” She was merely asking if I was paying of course, but the question seemed to hit me like a heavyweight punch. Were we together? Me in my good clothes and with my nice house, with this homeless, broken, ignored man? A long pause. Then, “Yes, we’re together.”
I often recall that incident at Easter time. Jesus enters Jerusalem, knowing what his fate will be, and that not only the crowd but his closest friends will deny “being together” with him. He’ll be abused, beaten, and murdered. Then, I believe, rise again. To tell us that we’re all together in this life, one seamless garment of community.
Whether you believe that or not is up to you, but I promise you that his teachings are not what we see screamed so often on our television screens. Jesus the rebel, Jesus the subversive, Jesus who spoke of a world made new, better, and restored. Roll away the stone, and see the authentic man for who he was, allow the light of goodness to shine.
