Was Jesus a Uniter or a Divider?

When reading the New Testament, one discovers a great emphasis on love and unity. Indeed, the coming of the spirit at Pentecost is just one story that tells us that one of the primary works of the spirit is to unite together people from all walks of life in the community of faith. And, Paul very often speaks of unity.

Yet, such an understanding of this emphasis on unity does not necessarily mean that Jesus himself was always a uniter. I think we often picture Jesus as having a calm and innocent nature, as he speaks of love and peace.

But is this the total portrait of Jesus?  Perhaps if we look closely at the sayings of Jesus, we will find some that describe him as much as a divider as a unitier.

One of the more classic statements in which Jesus clearly draws a line of division is when he says that if any want to be his disciples, they must take up their cross and follow him. This is clearly a statement that, although not inherently divisive, certainly results in divisions as some do take up the call, while many others do not.

But some statements are even more shocking than these. For example, take Luke 12:51: “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”

Such a view of Jesus does not sit well with those of us who would rather think about unity and togetherness, love and peace. The idea that Jesus was divisive, even intentional in his divisiveness, seems to rub against our common views of him.

I find one story from the Gospels particularly creative in portraying the divisiveness of Jesus. It is a story that involves conflict not only between Jesus and the religious opponents, but also between Jesus and his own kin.

Mark tells the story in Mark 3:20-35 in a narrative structure known as the “Markan Sandwich.” The designation describes a literary structure in which one story begins, but that story is interrupted by another story, which is told in full, and then finally the first story concludes. In this particular narrative, Jesus’ conflict with the religious leaders is “sandwiched” between his clash with his own family.

In setting up this structure, Mark is intertwining these two stories in order to show that Jesus equates, at some level, the actions of his birth family with the actions of his critics. Jesus sees both his family and his religious critics standing against him doing the will of God. They also are actively hostile towards him.

We must keep in mind the religious and cultural setting in which Jesus lives. For one thing, in a culture of honor and shame, one was to bring honor to the family name. In the minds of his family, who see Jesus as “out of his mind”, Jesus was bringing great shame onto his family, dishonoring their name among their neighbors.

In terms of the religious setting, instead of bowing to the religious authorities who accuse him of having power by Beelzebub, Jesus works outside the boundaries of religious establishment, thumbing his nose at those who would criticize him. This puts him in conflict with the religious establishment; a conflict that will heat up throughout the story.

And so it seems that both Jesus’ family and the religious leaders think him to be possessed in some sense. His family believes he is insane, which would have been attributed to demon possession, and the religious leaders outright accuse him demon possession.

But what seems interesting is that though his family and the religious authorities come to him with so-called authority, authority they expect him to follow, it seems that Jesus, in response, has drawn a line in the sand, excluding both of these groups from his inner circle.

So, instead of honoring his family by siding with them, and instead of submitting to the authority of the powerful religious establishment in Jerusalem, Jesus has called together those he calls his true family, those who do the will of God. These people, Jesus says, are his family; everyone else is outside.

But what about the parable that Jesus tells in the midst of all of this? What is its meaning?

From a literary perspective, Jesus’ parable about a house or kingdom that is divided is situated right in the middle of the sandwich. This is vitally important to how Jesus sees both his family and the religious leaders.

The parable offers Jesus an opportunity to clearly define his mission in the world. His actions of casting out demons are not accomplished by his own demon possession. They are his attacks against Satan’s dominion which he intends to plunder, and anyone who stands in the way, like his family or the religious authorities, are standing on the side of evil and are guilty of an unpardonable sin; the sin of blaspheme against the Holy Spirit, the power by which Jesus casts out evil spirits.

Both Jesus’ family and the religious elite were guilty of this sin. His family thought he was mad, and so they tried to stop him. The religious elite accused him of siding with Satan, for he did not meet their religious approval. Both of these groups stood in the path that God had laid before Jesus to do the will of God. Both of these groups sided with the kingdom of Satan.

What Jesus saw in his family and in the religious establishment of his day was symbolic of a status quo that held onto the power structures of tradition, refusing to allow God to transform those power structures into communities of love and justice.

This is the meaning of Jesus plundering Satan’s stronghold. The actions of Jesus in casting out the evil spirits function as parables of Jesus’ attack against the social, economic and political structures of his day. These are the strong man’s houses.

Thus, in rejecting his family, and in rejecting the authority of the religious establishment, Jesus made a stark division between those who stood against God’s will for justice and inclusiveness and those who would follow him through doing the will of God; a will that was epitomized by love, service, and sacrifice.

I deeply believe Jesus was a uniter, one who sought to bring together people from all walks of life. Indeed, by redefining his family as those who do the will of God, Jesus was transforming the concept of family from that which was characterized by blood kin, ethnicity, nationality, or religion to that which was exemplified by living out God’s will.

Yet, at the same time, Jesus’ message was so radical and so demanding that it was, and it remains, quite divisive. Jesus was as much a divider as he was a uniter.

Why Did Jesus Speak in Parables?

Those of us who have read the Gospels, or who are even remotely familiar with the teachings of Jesus, know that he often spoke in parables. Indeed, Jesus tells over 40 parables, many that are very familiar, such as the Parable of the Good Samaritan or the Parable of the Prodigal Son, two parables that are well known even among many non-Christians. 

But why did Jesus speak in parables? This is the question that his closest followers asked him, trying to get a sense of the meaning and purpose of Jesus’ parables, and it is a question that many of us have when looking back at Jesus’ life and ministry. Indeed, when considering the importance Jesus seems to place on his authority as the teacher of God’s will, one wonders why he talked in stories that are riddles that are hard to understand and interpret.

Would it not have been easier, and much clearer to his audience, and certainly to us living two millennium in the future, if Jesus would have been more forthright and straightforward in his speech, offering to his listeners lists of commands that are not difficult to comprehend?   

Could Jesus have not done a better job of teaching his followers exactly what he wanted them to learn if he had not been so mysterious by using parables? For sure, Jesus is clear at times, but when he communicates in parables, his meaning is very often unclear.

           

It is true that there is a sense that Jesus understood his own surroundings and his own culture and people, who lived in an agrarian Palestine, and who understood the cultural norms of the society in which they lived from day to day. The parables, then, are connections to the hearers through relevant allegory. Thus, the parables Jesus tells utilize images and ideas his contemporaries would have understood, and if we look at the parables, we quickly see how earthy many of them are.

So, in a real sense, Jesus was using everyday images and practices to speak about deeper theological and ethical issues.  Some have said Jesus did this to make these ideas easier for his listeners to understand.

But is this correct?

Yes, Jesus does use everyday images and practices in the stories he tells, but his parables do not necessarily make theological and ethical issues easier to understand. In fact, several of Jesus’ parables are confusing.  For example, the one he tells in Mark 4 about the sower who goes out to sow seed is very confusing.

           

Who is the sower? What is the seed? What do the different types of soil mean, if anything? Sure, Jesus explains his parable to the disciples, the only time he ever explains one of his parables, but even his explanation is confusing. We still do not know what the meaning of the parable is. Is it a call for us to be better soil so that we can receive the seed that will grow? If this is so, do we have any control over this? Can soil actually change its own capacity to be more or less fruitful?

But in an interesting answer to the disciples’ question about the meaning of the parables, Jesus seems to imply, or perhaps is very straightforward as to why he speaks in parables. He says in Mark 4:11-12,

“To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables; in order that

‘they may indeed look, but not perceive,
and may indeed listen, but not understand;
so that they may not turn again and be forgiven.’”   

In his allusion to Isaiah 6:9, Jesus is clearly stating that his parables are difficult to understand, and they are intended to be difficult to understand. Although he uses images and practices that the people of first century Palestine would have understood, the use of these familiar images does not translate into his audience actually understanding what he is saying. 

So, again, why did Jesus use these parables, which he himself admits are difficult to understand?

Perhaps the answer as to why Jesus used these stories is that he himself was struggling to understand the mystery of God in the world. And, if it is true that Jesus was himself struggling to understand God’s purposes in the world, and was therefore struggling to make his understanding known to those around him who came to hear what he had to say about God, then we might say that the parables connect us with Jesus’ own imagination as he thought about God and God’s rule in the world.

If this is correct, then the parables are not declarations of fixed truths, but are rather journeys of the mind that Jesus invites us to take both as a community of faith, but also as individual pilgrims seeking God. These journeys of the mind, and indeed of the heart, are never ending quests for God. Perhaps this is why the parables have many various meanings, and why they, for the most part, are open-ended and ambiguous.

And this also may be why Jesus tells his disciples that he speaks in parables so that those who hear might think they understand, but they do not. He wants his hearers to struggle with the images and the actions within a parable not to find an easy answer so that they can go on their way. No, Jesus’ use of the parable is to invite those willing to invest in the struggle to take the journey with him, and to struggle to seek God.

But, in their elusiveness, Jesus’ parables describe the kingdom of God itself as elusive. If the parables about the kingdom are difficult to comprehend, how much more so is the kingdom difficult to comprehend? 

Just when we might think we have it all figured out, we are confronted with a new understanding of the kingdom of God that we never expected. This is why Jesus commands us to “Seek first the kingdom of God.” This is no one time seeking as if searching for an object we can see and touch, and once we find it we can stop seeking.  No seeking the kingdom of God is a continual seeking; an eternal searching for God’s kingdom that cannot be measured or adequately described by human language.

And so, Jesus uses parables to speak about the kingdom of God because these stories lend themselves to open-ended elusiveness that lead us to more seeking, more searching, and more questioning.  And, because these stories lead us to further seeking, searching, and questioning, they draw us slowly out of our lives of safety, security, and comfort, to imagine the reality of God.

The parables lead us from the world we know, where we feel safe and comfortable, to imagine a world we do not know, one in which God’s kingdom has come and God’s will is done, just as he taught his followers to pray.

Jesus tells parables to draw us into the stories, not as observers, but as participants. We are meant to find ourselves in these stories as part of our journey to discover who we are in light of God’s rule and how we respond to that rule.

In this sense, Jesus’ parables invite us to imagine a God beyond our descriptions and our qualifications, to contemplate our own lives in God’s rule, and to imagine a world different from our own. And, if we are willing to participate in the journey of the parables, wrestling with hearing and understanding, we may experience more deeply the God about whom Jesus spoke through these little stories called parables.

What Can the World Teach Christians about Justice?

I have been contemplating the words from Jesus’ prayer in John 17 in which he asks God that his followers remain in the world, but that they be not of the world. There is, of course, an inherent tension in these words; a tension that has troubled Christians for centuries. What is the role of Christians in society?

There are some Christians who view the relationship the church should have with the world as one of separation, isolation, and abandonment. Inherent in this approach is an understanding of the world as evil, and culture as the tool of evil. In this view, human societies are lost to sin and have no hope of redemption as societies. Heaven is the reality of God’s will for humans, and thus we ought to separate ourselves from the culture in which we live.

Another approach is one in which Christians engage culture, but only for the purpose of being intolerant and judgmental. Those who take this approach seek to use power, especially political power, to force what they believe to be Christian ideals onto the culture. Indeed, these types of groups force Christianity itself on to culture.

But are these faithful responses we ought to have to culture? Do any of these correspond to the ideas expressed by the teachings of Jesus? I would say no.

Being followers of Jesus means many things for us, but in the context of the question we are asking, it means that though we may be different in the way we understand God from those around us, and we may see the world differently than many in our culture do, and we may have different ideas about what makes a moral society, we can be faithful to our own calling as God’s people by working with others to seek the common good of all. Indeed, I would argue that seeking the common good is exactly what authenticates our faith to the world.

But, I have also come to understand that there is a need for us to recapture the practice of humility within the Christian tradition. There is no doubt that the Christian church has had many centuries of power over the western world, but I think what we are seeing among some Christians in our own political context is appalling. These Christian groups that are seeking power and seeking to push our culture toward a theocracy do not represent the Jesus that is represented in our sacred text; the Jesus who came in humility and service, not in power and might.

Jesus calls us to embrace that same humility and to reflect that humility not only through our actions towards those around us and our embrace all people, but also in our admitting that though we deeply believe in our God and in the teachings of our faith, we do not have all the answers, and we can be dead wrong about things; things about which the very world we think we ought to escape may be very right.

For example, take the Civil Rights Movement in the south and the failure of many white Christians in the south to embrace this movement, citing their religion as the basis for their bigotry. It was the changes in our culture that lead to correct changes in those churches as many of them, but of course, not all of them, moved from being racist congregations to embracing African Americans as full and fellow believers. Once changes in our culture were being made that recognized the rights of all races, then many of those Christians who were against the Civil Rights Movement began to rethink their own theological understanding and rethink their reading of scripture.

Or, take the women’s movement. During a time when women were fighting for equal rights, and when women began to take on important roles in the larger society, the church resisted this, and many denominations refused to allow women to be ordained or to serve as ministers. Some still do. But, as women began to take on these important roles in society, some denominations changed their policies and teachings about women ordination. Again, the progression that was taking place in the larger society caused Christians to rethink their readings of scripture and to reevaluate their theological teachings about role of women in the church.

And, more recently, the push for equality for gays and lesbians in our culture has led a few denominations to at least debate the issue, whereas years before, this issue would not have been on the table. Some denominations have even taken progressive steps on this issue, and polls show that more and more Christians are supporting the rights for same sex marriage. These transformations began outside the church, but Christians who desire justice and fairness have found support for their new positions in their own traditions and in the re-reading of scripture.

What I am trying to say in these examples is that these changes that have brought more justice and equality to these groups of people, though still having far to go, were changes that happened within the culture; within the world some Christians believe we are to stand against.

Does this mean that we are abandoning scripture as the authority for all church doctrine and policies, and replacing it with what the world believes to be moral? I would say no.

Scripture still holds primacy of place for normative Christian faith and practice, and serves as the foundational authority for the church in its existence in the world. But scripture must be interpreted in light of reason and experience. Scripture is what the human biblical author believed to be the revelation of God to his specific historical situation. Yet, scripture lives on through its interpretation in future generations, who must rely on reason and experience to formulate meaning for the church in each specific context.

This means that although the text of scripture continually serves as a basis of authority for the church’s faith and practice, each generation and locality of the church must find its own interpretations that are in conversation with scripture, but that are open to reason and experience. In this way, the Bible remains valid as a source of Christian faith and practice, but the literal interpretation of the Bible now has a rational filter through which the text can be sifted so that it remains relevant to an ever changing world.

And thus, as we read scripture and as we think about church teachings and doctrines, we should be reminded that those outside our Christian faith have a lot to teach us Christians who can be so myopic and narrow-minded in our views to the extent that we care little for the rights of others; rights that we have. In this way, the world serves not as a dangerous place for Christians, but as a place in which Christians can, along with all others, seek the truth that sets us free.

The central command of Jesus to us is not to be morally superior to others in our beliefs, nor to separate ourselves from this world, nor to stand in judgment of the world. The central command of Jesus to us is to love; to love God, to love our neighbors, and to love our enemies. If we practice this love with great authenticity, then the issues we face that at first seem questionable to us because of our faith, may become more acceptable if we see the people involved through eyes of love, fairness and justice.

Jesus the Crucified King

And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and they dressed him in a purple robe. They kept coming up to him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!”

In the church calendar, Christ the King Sunday falls on the last Sunday of the liturgical year, which is the last Sunday of Advent. Certainly this is an appropriate Sunday on which to hail Jesus as king. However, I think it is perhaps even more theologically rich to consider that recognizing Jesus as king during Holy Week may be more powerful than celebrating Christ the King in November.

After all, if we take the traditional reading for Palm Sunday, that of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, then we clearly see that the scene of Jesus riding into the Holy City on a donkey, and the crowd waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” are images of Jesus coming as king. Indeed, his coming into Jerusalem resembles very much a royal parade, which would have been a counter challenge to another parade coming into Jerusalem at about the same time. That would be Pilate’s entry into Jerusalem.

And, when we look at the response of the people to Jesus’ entry, we find that these people living under the oppression of Roman rule see in Jesus’ coming the hope of liberation. They believe that Jesus is not only the Messiah, God’s anointed one, but that he is also the king who comes in the name of the Lord, and who will sit on the thrown of David.

But something happens between the time that Jesus enters Jerusalem and the time he is brought before Pilate. Something changes that causes the crowd who at first looked with hope and celebration on Jesus’ triumphal entry, but by the time he is given over to Pilate they are calling for his crucifixion.

Even in Jesus’ triumphal entry we see, and perhaps the crowd recognizes, that Jesus’ position as king will be quite different from what they expected and what they experienced in the world. Kings hold power through the use of strength and violence. Moreover, kings who challenge other kings and kingdoms do not ride into the territory of their opponents on donkeys. Rather, they come in on strong horses, carrying weapons that signify a challenge to war. But already in the triumphal scene when Jesus enters Jerusalem, we see that his kingdom will be quite different.

This difference is played out in the arrest and crucifixion scene in all four Gospels, but in the John’s telling we find some details that inform us of what it means to say and believe that Jesus is king. It means that Jesus is the Crucified King.

What is interesting about John’s telling of the story is that when Jesus is brought before Pilate, he and Pilate have somewhat of a philosophical conversation, and it seems that Pilate is quite intrigued by Jesus and what he has to say. But Pilate is interested in one central question, “Are you the King of the Jews?”

But what might be the telltale point in this conversation concerning whether Jesus was a king and what kind of kingdom was his kingdom is found between the two questions asked by Pilate about whether Jesus was a king of not. After Pilate asks Jesus the first time if he is a king, Jesus talks about how his kingdom is not of this world.

We can easily skip over this part of the story if we assume that Jesus is simply stating that his kingdom is a spiritual kingdom that has come from God. But, we miss something very important if we do this.

When Jesus says that his kingdom is not of this world, he clarifies what he means when he also states, “If my kingdom was from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews.” (John 18:36).

What exactly does Jesus mean by this statement?

He means that in the face of the violence he is about to face, violence at the hands of an angry mob, and at the command and hands of an illegitimate kingdom, his kingdom is one of non-violence, sacrifice, and peace. In other words, Jesus, knowing full well the person before whom he stands, and knowing full well that this person, Pilate, has the power to command his death, bears witness to Pilate that the kingdom of Jesus is very different from any kingdom in the world, including that of Rome. The kingdom of Jesus is one of non-violence, sacrifice, and peace.

And thus, what we find in the Passion Narrative of John’s Gospel is not simply the crucifixion of Jesus. What we find in the scene from John’s Gospel is Jesus’ coronation as king. There are no pomp and circumstance; only mocking and beating. There is no grandiose ceremony; only pain and suffering. Jesus’ coronation as king does not fit the normal pattern of installing kings in this world. But, then again, as Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world.”

The message is clear. Jesus is can only be king by his crucifixion. His crown is the crown of thorns. His throne is a Roman cross. And on that cross, where the sign hung proclaiming Jesus as “King of the Jews”, Jesus takes his proper place as king, and those who seek to be part of his kingdom are called to do the same.

Jesus’ kingdom redefines what it means to live in the kingdom not of this world. It means living as subjects of the king who lived and died in non-violent protest of the kingdoms of this world. Yes, Jesus as king is different from any other king. He is not a king of worldly power or violence and war. He is a king of sacrifice and peace. He is the Crucified King.

The Magi as Messengers of Doom to the Powerful

Today, Christians across the world celebrate Epiphany. Epiphany is the culmination of the Advent/Christmas Season and the Twelve Days of Christmas. In some countries, this day is also known as Three Kings’ Day, which tells us that the purpose of this day is to remember and celebrate the coming of the Magi to see and pay homage to the Christ Child.

Of course, we are familiar with the traditional images of the Magi. We mostly see these guys in Nativities that blanket home and church yards at Christmas, and we experience them in Christmas productions, sometimes with elaborate fanfare that surely surpasses the original story. But what do we really know about these Magi?

You might be surprised to know that much of what we believe about the Magi has developed through tradition and is not really found in the Gospels. There exists a manuscript from the 8th century, which could possibly be a copy of a text that originated in perhaps the 2nd or 3rd centuries, that claims to be an eyewitness account of the visit of the Magi. And while this text, which is called the Revelations of the Magi, offers interesting details about these men and their visit to Jesus, it is highly unlikely that we can take it as historical.

Nevertheless, the Magi have taken on a bit of mystique of their own that is perhaps unequaled by any of the characters we associate with Jesus’ birth. But, there are some things that we have traditionally believed about the Magi that are certainly up for debate. For example, we do not know how many there were, from where they actually traveled, what exactly the star was, how long it took them to arrive in Bethlehem, and exactly how old Jesus was at the time of their visit.

All of these questions are certainly intriguing, and these are somewhat important issues for historians. But, whether their travel to Bethlehem is a historical reality or not, for most of us who desire to find great meaning in this story about these mysterious visitors to Jesus, we are left to read about their visit from Matthew’s Gospel. After all, his is the only Gospel to include this story, and in doing so, he must have had some purpose in telling this tale about these unexpected guests; a purpose that perhaps offers something of significance to modern readers.

For sure, the story can be read as having various intentions and layers of meanings that could lead readers to different understandings of this narrative. These are the first Gentiles to receive the news of Jesus’ birth, which says a great deal about what the author of Matthew believes about the scope of God’s love for the world.

Moreover, the stark difference between the Magi’s response to Jesus and that of Herod says something about Jesus as a polarizing figure even before he becomes an adult. Yet, I find one element of the story to be both intriguing and also relevant to the question over what God thinks about those who seek places of power.

In reading Matthew’s story about the Magi, we should note with some curiosity that when these men arrive in Bethlehem, they visit first with King Herod instead of making their way to Jesus. This seems to me to be a strange twist in the story. After all, if the star has led them this far, why does it not lead them directly to the place where Jesus is, without stopping by to visit King Herod?

Of course, they eventually see the star again, and it does lead them to the exact spot where the Christ Child is, but not before they stop off at Herod’s Palace to see what he knows. Is Matthew perhaps saying something through this little narrative twist? It is certainly not the case that Herod has information about the birth of Jesus, so what purpose does Matthew have in telling us that the Magi go to Herod before they find Jesus?

To get at the answer to this question, we need first to understand who Herod was. Herod was the appointed king of Judea; appointed to this post by the Roman authorities. But, his ruler ship over Judea was illegitimate in the eyes of many Jews, and, at least from the perspectives of both John and Jesus, he was also not legitimate in the eyes of God. From the narrator’s point of view, it seems that the purpose of the Magi’s visit to Herod may have been more than just to inquire into the whereabouts of Jesus, the one who is the born king of the Jews.

Indeed, by their very mention of one who is born king of the Jews, these Magi serve as mouthpieces for the narrator, who speaks from God’s point of view. Their declaration to Herod, the so-called appointed king of the Jews, is that his time on the throne is coming to an end. One who is born as king is certainly a more legitimate king than one who has been appointed. Herod’s response is one of fear, and rightly so.

We should also notice that when the Magi come to Herod, Matthew twice calls Herod, “king”. But, after the prophecy about the ruler from Judah who will come from Bethlehem to shepherd God’s people is read, Matthew drops the title “king” from Herod’s name. He is simply Herod.

This switch in the way the narrator refers to Herod seems to be no accident. By dropping the title king from Herod’s name, the Gospel writer is demonstrating that Herod is no longer the king of the Jews; indeed he really never was. Even though he still acts as a ruthless ruler, his kingship is illegitimate in the eyes of God.

And so, these Magi are unexpected and unwelcomed guests in Herod’s Palace, for they bring him news that his time as the ruler of the Jews is coming to an end, as the one they seek by the sign of the star is the born and legitimate king of the Jews.

Moreover, the prophecy that Matthew mentions speaks of a ruler who will shepherd God’s people. The image of the shepherd should not be overlooked at this point, as it carries with it rich meaning throughout the biblical narrative.

The long standing command of God to those in leadership over God’s people was for leaders to be shepherds over the people, which meant that they were to lead and guide with compassion and justice. It meant that rulers were charged with making sure that those on the margins of society were cared for.

But, at times, Israel’s leaders, like Herod, were not heeding the commands of God. They were ruling for selfish gain, and they were failing in their God-ordained role as shepherds over the people. I am reminded of Ezekiel’s prophecy against the rulers of Israel when he declares that they had failed to be shepherds, and thus they have fallen under the judgment of God.

The visit of the Magi reminds us that the rulers and powers of this world are not the true authorities over God’s cosmos, and this is particularly true for governments, kings, dictators, and anyone who seeks to rule with illegitimate and unjust power.

Herod had failed as king of the Jews, for he was simply the appointed king, placed there as the illegitimate king by an illegitimate empire. He was no shepherd over God’s people, and his rule was one of injustice and ruthless power, which Matthew represents through his embellished story of Herod ordering the killing of all male children under the age of two, an event that cannot be verified, but a story that nevertheless illustrates what the author thought of Herod as king.

But, the one who has been born, the Christ Child, is the legitimate king of the Jews, and indeed, all of God’s people. He is the Good Shepherd who will shepherd God’s flock.

Whatever we might think about the historicity of the Magi’s visit, from the perspective of the only Gospel writer that tells of their journey, these unexpected guests were not the bearers of good news to Herod, but the messengers of doom for Herod and any ruler that does not rule with compassion and justice.

The Incarnation of God Redefines Our Human Existence

Another Christmas has past, and as we spend the last days of 2011 putting away decorations, returning gifts, and counting down the hours before 2012, it is good for Christians to once again spend time reflecting on the meaning of Christmas, especially after the hoopla of a busy Christmas Day. For centuries, Christians have celebrated this blessed event as the time in which God chose to be with humanity; “Emmanuel, God with us.” Yet, throughout this history, Christians have continually reflected on this event, returning to that story to rediscover what it means to say that God took on human existence.

Historians of Christianity are well aware of the fact that as Christianity spread throughout the Roman Empire, the nature of Christ was always at the heart of any theological debates that developed. Yet, you may be surprised to know that in the early days after Jesus departed this earth, and after his first followers died, that the acceptance of Jesus as divine was not a significant problem. Yes, there were some groups, such as the Ebionites, who did not accept the divinity of Jesus. Moreover, a later 4th century movement that originated with a bishop named Arius also did not hold to a divine understanding of Jesus. But for the most part, the earliest Christians believed Jesus to be divine.

The problem for many Christians in the first centuries of the Common Era was accepting that Jesus was human. Such ideas that God could take on human form were deemed by many to be impossible, for how could a god become corporal, incased in a physical body? Moreover, how could a god, believed to be all powerful and all good, take on the flesh of a limited and defiled body?

It is certainly without debate that the writers of the New Testament saw Jesus as human. And yet, despite all of the evidence of his being flesh and blood, we struggle to see Jesus as a human. Perhaps it is not that we struggle to accept that Jesus existed in a human body. The problem is whether we accept his humanity. In other words, while we embrace the fact that Jesus did all the activities that humans do, we may find it very hard to accept Jesus in his humanity, as someone who, at some level, was exactly like us.

I think two significant obstacles hinder us from accepting Jesus in his humanity. One obstacle is that we somehow think we must see Jesus first as God and second as a human. When we think of Jesus, we automatically think first of his divinity. We may more readily gravitate toward the divine side of Jesus because not to do so may make us seem irreverent and unbelieving.

The second obstacle to our accepting Jesus in his humanity is because we cannot see humanity as good, but only as sinful, weak, and evil. After all, the evidence we see around us proves to us that humanity can be weak, sinful, and dreadfully evil. This view clouds our understanding of Jesus as a human and can prevent us from accepting Jesus’ humanity.

The key to overcoming this perspective on Jesus is not to look at humanity and then say that Jesus could not have been human like us. The solution is to look at Jesus in his humanity and allow his humanity to show us what it really means to be human. If Jesus was truly human, then we ought to try and understand what it means to be human as he was human.

If Jesus was human, then he had a body. This is an obvious point to make, but making it demonstrates an important truth for us. If Jesus took on human flesh in the incarnation, then we must affirm that human flesh, i.e., our bodies, are good. This was the problem with some Christian movements in the early church beginning in the second and third centuries. They could not accept that Jesus was both divine and human, for perfect transcendent divinity cannot take on imperfect and defiled flesh. Yet, this seems to be exactly what the New Testament teaches us about the incarnation. The human body became the home of God.

This has major consequences for how we see ourselves. First, rather than seeing ourselves as souls trapped in worthless bodies waiting to escape, we must affirm that our bodies are good. We have somehow been convinced that our bodies are not good, that they are defiled, and that our goodness as humans is only found in our souls that will eventually escape our evil bodies. But the incarnation of God in Jesus loudly proclaims that human bodily existence is good; we are still made in the image of God. This has many implications for how we treat our bodies and how we see life.

But to affirm the humanity of Jesus is also to affirm that Jesus faced the reality of being human. At every twist and turn in his earthly life, Jesus faced the temptation for power, security, and giving up on God’s will for him. And in each temptation there was always the possibility of his failure, and thus the failure of God’s plan for humanity.

But in loving us, God chose to face life as we face life. In the incarnation, God not only took on human flesh; God also chose to face human vulnerability. While the mighty acts of God show us a God who is powerful, the greatest power of God is seen in God’s vulnerability, in God’s weakness, in God facing our human struggle. Indeed, without this vulnerability, God cannot truly love us, for to love another is always to become vulnerable.

If God has truly loved the world, then God has become vulnerable to the struggles of this world. God, in the incarnation of Jesus, has become vulnerable to the pain, suffering, weakness, and rejection that humanity faces. And in doing so, God has redefined what it means to be human.

Singing Mary’s Revolutionary Song

The Nativity is a longstanding symbol of the Advent and Christmas Seasons depicting the holy family gathered together on that blessed night. As we view the scene of the Nativity, our attention is of course drawn to Jesus, the new born babe. Yet, we cannot help but give some attention to Mary, the mother of Jesus, and ponder what thoughts were in her mind that night.

Although Mary is a central figure in Christian history, she is perhaps one of its most enigmatic figures. Much of the problem in our not knowing Mary more fully is that the biblical texts do not offer us a lot of insight into Mary’s life, particularly after Jesus’ childhood. This has given rise to various understandings about Mary, most notably differences between Roman Catholic and Protestant views of her.

We know that the Roman Catholic Church teaches Mary to be in a perpetual state of virginity; which says a little something about some wrongheaded views about Mary’s position. Yes, Roman Catholics hold her in high esteem, but more for her supposed virginity than anything else.

And, we Protestants are no better when it comes to Mary. Instead of holding her in high esteem as the Roman Catholics do, we sort of push her aside. Oh, we celebrate her as the mother of Jesus, but that it is about it. For many Christians, Mary may simply be the incubator of the baby Jesus.

Yet, while Mary remains a mystery to us, beyond her giving birth to Jesus, there is one piece of biblical material that offers us insight into the kind of person Mary may have been. The song of Mary, or as it is known by its Latin title, the Magnificat, is found in Luke 1:46-55, and may give us enough material to help us understand her and her impact on Christianity.

From an historical critical viewpoint, we must admit that Mary may not have actually sung these words. It is probably the case that the author of this Gospel created this poem and placed it on the lips of Mary. However, this does not mean that Mary would not have sung such a song. Indeed, by placing this song on Mary’s lips, the author of Luke’s Gospel may have understood that such a poem fits Mary’s perspective on the birth of her son.

But beyond these historical issues, we are left with this narrative character singing a song that is very personal; expressing her joy for what God was doing in her life. It is a song that comes from deep within her as she responds to the mighty promises of God. It is a song she sings as a result of her hope in what God is doing both in her and through her. Indeed, it is because of the joy that wells inside her that she cannot help but sing this song.

But at the same time that Mary’s song is a song of personal spiritual fulfillment and hope in the promises of God, it is also a very revolutionary song. It is a political song. It is a song about social justice. It is a song about the redistribution of power and wealth. It is, in fact, a politically dangerous song for Mary to sing at her time and at her place in life.

She is a young peasant female who sings as an unlikely and unauthorized prophet, declaring the coming of God. Outside the religious power structures of formal Judaism, this young peasant female sings a song that is a radical shift from the religious messages of her day, and her vision of God is starkly different from that held by the religious establishment.

Her vision of God shaped her understanding that God was turning upside down the normal power structures of her society. Her song announced that the proud and powerful would be cast down from their high places, and the lowly would be lifted up. The hungry would be fed, and the rich would have nothing. She understood that God was coming to alter the economics of her world by redistributing wealth and by overturning the normal politics of her world that were based on status.

This may give us some insight into the kind of person Mary really was. For her to sing a song that is so dangerous and so subversive, and one that is focused on justice for the poor and oppressed of her time, meant that she hungered for justice not just for herself, but for all her people. She witnessed daily the pain and struggle of the marginalized and oppressed poor around her, and she found in God’s visitation of her a sense of hope that things were moving toward God’s justice and peace.

Mary may have understood, however, that it would be through the good acts done by God’s people that the values of her society would radically shift. In other words, because she knew that she and her community could not directly challenge the religious authorities or the Roman powers, she instead believed that through radical living by doing good to those around them, God’s justice would prevail. It would be through living out the ethics of the rule of God in living together as a faithful community that God would reverse the values that shaped her secular society.

Does this sound familiar to you? It should. For what we find buried in Mary’s song is the message of her son, Jesus. Though I have no strong evidence for this, I believe that more than any other person who shaped Jesus’ central message of justice for the poor and freedom for the oppressed, it was Mary’s world view that had the greatest impact on him.

Although we might piously think that Jesus came into the world programmed to know what God desired, I suggest that Mary shaped his way of thinking about God and the world more than any other source. Given what we find in Mary’s song, we cannot help but consider her impact on his thinking, his message, and his actions.

But all of this raises a significant question for us this Christmas Season. While we sing the popular carols of Christmas, do we dare to sing Mary’s song? And if we chose to sing Mary’s song, can we envision and enact a new economy that embodies simplicity and generosity, and a new culture that is characterized by welcoming strangers and loving our neighbors and our enemies?

How would singing Mary’s song alter our American values so that we would instead embrace the values of God and of God’s son Jesus?

Mary’s song is not just her song, and she should not sing it alone. It is a song followers of Jesus are to sing throughout all generations. But we cannot just sing this song, and continue to pay lip service to God. It is a song we are called to live in defiance of the norms of our culture until God’s revolutionary hope for the world is fulfilled.