The choice before us

Nationalistic violence, or suffering love

“I came here for the politics, not the religion.”

She wanted to be sure I knew.

I had just given a talk, in a church. From behind the pulpit, in fact.

The talk was on Christian nationalism and the threatened state of our democracy. I spoke frankly, and I spoke directly to those in the audience who were Christians. I encouraged them to use their positions and privilege to act now, to mitigate the harm, to defend others, and if necessary, to risk something.

The woman who came up to me told me a little about herself, told me how frightened she was by what she was seeing, and said she had come hoping to hear something that would give her reassurance. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But it really is as bad as you think. Maybe even worse than you think.”

We locked eyes, and she nodded. Sometimes there is a peace in knowing you’re not alone.

She turned to leave, but then stopped herself.

“I never thought I’d hear this in a church,” she said.

And then she turned back again.

“Maybe I’ll come back to this church.”

On Sunday, while sitting in my own church, I thought of her. I wondered if she did come back. I wished she could hear the sermon I was hearing.

I thought I’d share it here for her, and for anyone else who would like to listen in.

The pastor is Len VanderZee. If you follow me here, you’ve met him before.

The text is Luke 23: 13-31.

Come for the religion, and the politics:

Here’s Len:

…You can’t read about the passion of Christ without facing its profound political implications.

One might think that, well, politics and the gospel might intersect once in a while. But, for Pete’s sake, keep it away from the cross. That’s spiritual stuff. That’s about Jesus dying for our sins. Don’t sully it with politics.

But here’s the thing, There was a sign over Jesus head as he hung on the cross, “King of the Jews. That’s a profoundly political statement. But the whole story leading up to the cross is a political as well as a spiritual drama.

Last week we read about Jesus being sent off, like a hot potato, to Herod. Pilate wants Herod to deal with this stuff. He’s a half Jew after all and Jesus comes from Galilee, under Herod’s jurisdiction,

Herod treats Jesus as a religious wonder-worker and asks him to perform some of his tricks before a wrapt audience. But when Jesus refuses to perform, Herod sends him back down to Pilate.

And now the politics of the whole affair become even more evident. If it were not for the fact that this incident is mentioned in every single one of the gospels, you’d be tempted to think someone made it up.

Luke tells us that Barabbas was an insurrectionist and murderer. He was a popular hero because he actually stood up to the Roman occupiers. He’s part of a long tradition of Jewish patriots who risked their lives to fight Israel’s enemies.

Barabbas was the Patrick Henry of occupied Israel, “Give me liberty or Give me death.” Barabbas would have had a New Hampshire’s license plate, Live free or die.”

But what’s really weird is his name. In Hebrew, as in many other cultures, you are known by the name of your father. Bar means son of, and Abba means father, So Barabbas’ father was Abba, a rather common name. But Matthew goes further and actually tells us that his full name was Jesus Barabbas.

So, to just make things seem cartoonishly plain, the choice before the people in Jerusalem that day is between Jesus son of Abba, the patriot and zealot, or Jesus of Nazareth, son of The Father, son of God, beaten, bloody and dressed up in a royal robe.

The choice here is between the path of nationalistic violence, or of suffering love. The choice is between the kingdoms of this world and the kingdom of God.

And then, look at the main actors involved here. We have Pilate and we have the Jewish religious leaders.

Surprisingly, the one person here who seems most sympathetic to Jesus is Pilate, the Roman authority. He says, “What evil has he done to deserve the death penalty.’

For Pilate, this is all about the strange labyrinth of the Jewish religion. It’s got nothing to do with him, or with the Roman state. As far as they’re concerned Jesus is not a problem. More likely, the Jewish religious leaders are the problem.

But what we learn from Matthew’s gospel again is that there was a custom that each Passover the Roman’s would release from prison someone the Jewish leaders really wanted to liberate. So, they began to demand that Pilate release Barabbas instead.

They didn’t want the king of the Jews, they wanted someone who would really stick it to the Romans. They wanted to drive Pilate crazy.

And they wanted to get rid of Jesus of Nazareth. He was damaging to their brand.

So, the religious leaders and the crowd began to chant their demand for Barabbas’ release, and to crucify Jesus of Nazareth. They chose violent religious nationalism over justice and truth.

And Pilate certainly didn’t want to stir up the Jews on their great religious holiday. So he caved in, and released the insurrectionist and murderer, and sent the one innocent man to the cross.

Later in our reading, while Jesus is stumbling toward Golgatha and Simon of Cyrene carries his cross, Jesus notices the women weeping and wailing for him on the way to execution. Jesus tells them, “Don’t weep for me, weep for yourselves” Weep for what will eventually come from the Barabbas’ of this world.

Just 50 years later it all came crashing down. Insurrectionists like Barabbas stirred up the Jews to finally throw off the Roman yoke. Following that last great Jewish uprising in 70 AD, Rome sent its armies to utterly smash Jerusalem, not leaving one stone on another, as Jesus had predicted. And the women and children ran for the hills to escape the bloody aftermath.

“Those who live by the sword, will die by the sword,” says Jesus. And that is the story of history. Violence begets violence.

The church never seems to fully grasp how utterly non-violent is the way of Christ. How powerless it is before the world. Its only power is the gospel. It’s only weapon is the truth. Its only defense is faith and hope and love.

It seems that this old issue of politics and violence and religion comes up in every age. And it’s coming up acutely again in our own time.

And in a way that has divided the church. Like when Jesus stood before Pilate, and the religious leaders demanded his execution, there is part of the church that is betting on Barabbas.

It’s about power and control. It’s about seizing the levers of government to empower those in the church who want to enforce its brand of Christianity and expunge anyone who stands in the way.

Barabbas politics is alive in the land, and it stands in sharp contrast to the politics of the Kingdom of God.

Unsurprisingly, there’s been a publishing bonanza these days of books on religion and politics. Nashville theologian and NPR contributor Lee C. Camp’s wonderful contribution is called “Scandalous Witness.” It opens with these astounding words: “The Faith of the Christian is the last great hope on earth.”

What’s that about? It sounds initially like some kind of utopian nonsense. No, it’s the Lord’s Prayer. Your Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Let the Creation live truly under the reign of the triune God of love, who will be all and in all.

That is the last great hope on earth. nothing less.

The church’s task is to testify to that great hope and keep it alive before the world. We are not called to demand that everyone live according to the kingdom of God. But we are called to point to the coming Kingdom of God by our worship and our lives.

In Ephesians 3, Paul says a starling thing about the calling and purpose of the church that’s easy to ignore. He says that the plan of God for right now is that “through the church the manifold wisdom of God will be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.”

What kind of religious mumbo jumbo is this? Who are these rulers and authorities in heavenly places to which the church is revealing the wisdom of God?

Paul believed that behind the peoples and institutions of culture and government and industry stand certain spiritual powers. Because they have supernatural powers, they can move earthly reality in both good or evil directions.

Later, in Ephesians 6 Paul goes further into it, explaining that that the church is not up against mere flesh and blood realities. We are dealing with these supernatural powers. That’s what the church is up against.

But isn’t that an ancient and outmoded world view? Are there really powers in the heavens that exert some force in the world?

I can understand if you’re doubtful about that view of reality. After all, it’s not a very scientific or historical way of framing things. But think about it.

Don’t you feel it sometimes. From time to time in history there seems to be something that’s been let loose. Something that moves people to think and act in ways they would otherwise not do, and how people get swept up in them.

Maybe there’s something going on here that is more than a strictly earthly or historical view of things can explain.

Paul is saying that the church is in a battle that’s not just flesh and blood. It has the assignment to stand up to these intanglible spiritual powers that seek to dominate human life and turn its institutions toward evil purposes.

So when he says that “through the church the wisdom of God will be made known to rulers and authorities in the heavenly places,” he means something like this.

The church is called to be a living demonstration of the Kingdom of God before all the governments the corporations, politicians and political parties, and all the intangible spiritual forces that exert power through these earthly institutions.

Not that we’re afraid of them. They’ve been defeated. They have one big ultimate weapon, and that’s the threat of death. But when Christ rose from the dead he stole all their ammunition.

As Paul’s says in Colossians, “Christ disarmed these rulers and authorities, making a public example of them..”. We do not fear these powers. Our life is not in their hands.

We are called to stand unafraid and demonstrate that the new heavens and the new earth has begun right before their eyes in the middle of time and history. As Jesus said, “The Kingdom of God is among you.”

We don’t fight with weapons of power or violence. We don’t seek to dominate by others laws or threats. We follow Jesus as he walked, powerless to the cross.

The church is called to be a living witness before the principalities and powers. We are witnesses to a new regime that will finally transform all the institutions and structures and patterns of human life. The Kingdom of God.

It’s not our job to do it. Only God has the power to bring all things in subjection to his Christ, so that finally God will be all and in all.” as Paul says in I Corinthians 15.

But, until that great day comes, God has appointed and equipped the church with the Holy Spirit to be a public embodiment of God’s plan for the renewal of the whole creation.

How do we do that. First. We do it every week in our worship. Yes, what we do here is politically important. We sing our praise to Christ our king . We pledge our allegiance to him in our baptism. We pray for his kingdom to come here on earth as in heaven.. We hear his word to guide us, and we receive his life in the bread and wine of the Eucharist.

The world may care less what we do here on a Sunday. But those dark principalities and powers fester with resentment.

And then we express that allegiance to Christ our king through our lives. By living out the Kingdom of God in our community. By loving our neighbor, standing by the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized. Seeking justice. By telling the truth. Caring for the earth and working for human flourishing.

Still, there’s always that choice, Jesus the Christ or Jesus Barabbas.

It is very tempting for the church in our day to do something. We want to have a religion that wins, a religion that hold’s the levers of power, that can bring our own version of the Kingdom of God to earth.

That’s the Barabbas way, and it will only end badly, both for the church and for the world.

The Jesus way is the way of the cross, the way of servanthood, the way of peace, the way of patient love and forgiveness.

We hold the world’s last great hope. One day the Kingdoms of this world will become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ.

There’s an old hymn I love, and the words came back to me as I was writing this sermon, it says it all.

Lead on, O King eternal,

till sin's fierce war shall cease,

and holiness shall whisper

the sweet amen of peace.

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