So I was at a party a week ago and someone started to
sing one of the songs from Jesus Christ Superstar. I was quite surprised as she’s not a church
goer, and hasn’t particularly shown a lot of interest in what I would call a
big theological debate or conversation.
Yet here she was singing her favourite song – the song of Simon the
Zealot ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3bZqqe_s84&list=PLWMIGF70kAjtnE-NGrqrErtycIh4OHp3u&index=3&t=0s ) “Christ you know I love you, did you see I waved? I believe in you and
God so tell me that I’m saved.” It’s a
perfect example of how we do a real disservice to Jesus as mere humans. We think it’s all about power, military or
political power. Again and again we try
different ways of understanding who Jesus is for us. What kind of king was he and more
importantly, is he?
In the movie version, the zealots want Jesus to
manipulate the people into choosing violence to deal with their oppressors from
Rome. They want Jesus to twist his
message to one of hate and anger. They
want him to incite riots and start a war.
They understand power to be solely political, us versus them. A black and white world where only the strong
have the right to survive and all opponents will be crushed in their
crusade. The movie shows the followers
doing back flips in their excitement in hopes that Jesus will notice them.
How different that is from the scripture we read this
morning. It reads like an intimate
report by someone close enough to have heard that last small conversation
between three criminals executed in the most shameful, embarrassing way
possible for Jewish men. It was meant to
be a deterrent, to promote obedience and quell any thoughts of rebellion. This is what they did to traitors and other
enemies of the state. Hanging on the cross in the hot sun, even their robes
taken from them so all could witness that they were just scrawny
weaklings. How humiliating and
disgraceful it must have felt to be treated so.
I can imagine some soldier there listening idly to the
thieves and Jesus as they waited the long hours it took for the crucifixions to
kill the men. And the thieves reacted
like humans have done ever since to the idea of Jesus being someone special,
someone inspiring, someone holy. One
mocks Jesus, happy perhaps to have someone to lash out against with his last
dying breath. I may be in pain, I won’t
get out of it, but at least I’m not as ridiculous as you with all your talk of
holiness and a new kingdom of God all touchy-feelie, lovey-dovey nonsense.
The other recognizes something different about
Jesus. Maybe it was his dignity, or his manner,
or how his followers wept and witnessed to his final hours. We don’t know. But something about Jesus made the other
thief pay attention and offer allegiance to Jesus, a dying man who had nothing
to offer, no power, no control, no strength to save his own life.
I think we all face the same struggle. Who is Jesus for us? When I started going to church after my angry
atheist stage, the last thing I wanted to think about was some weird stuff
about Jesus having magical super powers, being special, being so exciting that
I would want to do cartwheels and back flips.
I didn’t want some over the top, rolling on the ground experience that
would leave me all open to emotional manipulation. Not my style, and far too threatening. The Jesus Seminar came out and some scholars tried
to make Jesus just an ordinary person, only human, nothing special, just a
particularly good man. But the more I
heard the stories and the more I learned and listened, the more I realized that
Jesus was not just a nice man who loved people.
He had to have been a very strong man to resist over and over the
temptation to become a war leader, a rebel, a politician leading a coup, a new
king taking over the country by passion and propaganda and maybe even a few
little secret back room deals here and there.
He constantly resisted the temptation to save himself
from his fate. And he constantly pointed
to something more powerful than Rome, more lasting than the Temple of
Jerusalem, more enduring than vast armies at his beck and call.
The thief said, “Save yourself” and he resisted
that. It wasn’t about him at all. It was about God first and foremost. Even today we are faced with the temptation
to do it all ourselves, to be strong, be tough and never ask for help. Be independent, be full of the right
answers. This is the age of “Do it
yourself” psychotherapy and spirituality.
Jesus didn’t do that. He asked
for God’s help to do what he must, to do what needed to be done, even to die on
the cross. To die as an example, a
witness to a different kind of power, the kind recognized by the second
thief. The kind of power that doesn’t
transform through violence or manipulation, threats or bullying, but the kind
of power that gently transforms cultures and attitudes and opinions with gentleness,
patience, endurance, joy and forgiveness.
The kind of power that challenges us to say to each other and ourselves words
of hope and encouragement, love and forgiveness. That kind of power transformed the Roman
Empire, and transformed the way we take care of each other, the way we shape our
society. It continues to transform us,
to hold us accountable to a higher standard, and to guide us into ever more
loving ways of being in community. The
kind of power that never ends and continually inspires us to greater and
greater deeds. Okay, maybe not
cartwheels and backflips, but something even harder, the transformation of our
hearts until we can say “Jesus Remember Me when you come into your Kingdom.”
