And He Walks with Me: Jesus 2.1 – Interactive Edition
New Thoughts about Jesus & the Christ for the 21st Century
by Thomas W. Shepherd
by Thomas W. Shepherd
What if God was one of us,
Just a slob like all of us,
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to find his way home...
Joan Osborne (1963- )
Introduction
New Hermeneutic
Christology is an indispensable ingredient for understanding the post-modern, high-tech culture in which we live. Whether looking at twenty-first century life in terms of spirituality or politics, ethics or economics, moral values or paradigms for emotional health, Jesus Christ is an essential element in the collective consciousness of Western civilization. Furthermore, because of the dominance of Europe and the Americas in political, cultural and economic spheres, some degree of Christological reflection is arguably important for humanity at large. Even those who have grown up in Christian lands only to reject Jesus utterly—often for good reasons—will usually reject Jesus based on the values inherited from Jesus.
Christology is an indispensable ingredient for understanding the post-modern, high-tech culture in which we live. Whether looking at twenty-first century life in terms of spirituality or politics, ethics or economics, moral values or paradigms for emotional health, Jesus Christ is an essential element in the collective consciousness of Western civilization. Furthermore, because of the dominance of Europe and the Americas in political, cultural and economic spheres, some degree of Christological reflection is arguably important for humanity at large. Even those who have grown up in Christian lands only to reject Jesus utterly—often for good reasons—will usually reject Jesus based on the values inherited from Jesus.
Consequently, this book offers, under one cover, a somewhat rambling and occasionally repetitious collection of essays representing over seven year’s work in theological reflections, ruminations and stray thoughts on the most-written-about and least-agreed-upon figure in world history, Jesus of Nazareth. Because of this strangely un-informed familiarity, it will be necessary to herald the work by a few words of introduction about the most-discussed life ever lived. Hopefully, the discussion will quickly break from the familiar setting to some newer thoughts about the old story. There can be no doubt of the importance of this subject, yet clarity in looking at Jesus today is difficult to achieve, let alone objectivity. Too many people are too heavily invested in the authority of the man from Galilee. The unspoken energy behind that authority is a fervent desire for corroboration: “If only Jesus stands with me, His imprimatur validates my belief system, economic program, political agenda, moral values, and view of society at large. If Jesus stands on the other side of an issue—well, He simply can’t stand on the other side, because He is always right. And I am on the right side, therefore Jesus must be here, too.”
A full-blown hermeneutical system—a network of principles undergirding biblical interpretation—are in full force in the above, energized by a strong need to agree with Jesus, or better still the need to have Jesus agree with me. The 2-part formula looks like this:
I know what is right.
Jesus is always right.
Therefore, Jesus must agree with me.
Faithful obedience is the goal for the Christian.
The result of this presumptive fantasy of total concord with the New Testament is that I must reinterpret problem passages until they comply with the post-modern, ethical-theological model from which I function. Therefore, any instance where the particular Jesus figure (whether in Paul, Mark, Matthew, Luke, John, Acts, or Revelation) goes a direction which is less than admirable—i.e., cursing a fig tree not in season, or promising to send violent judgment rather than peace upon the Earth—I am compelled to rescue the text with creative interpretation to assuage my cognitive dissonance. The best I can hope for is blissful ignorance of this dynamic at work, because willfully deconstructing my views on the authority of Jesus Christ places me in an awkward position, especially if my theology views Jesus as perfect, infallible, and uniquely divine.
This book suggests another formula, a departure which hardly seems all that far-reaching and radical when the supernaturalist ingredient is removed. Instead of bricking Jesus into a temple of perfection, why not allow that both he and the New Testament authors may have had ideas which simply do not work for someone living today in the twenty-first century? In fact, why not step over the authority line and propose that Jesus of Nazareth, like any great teacher, has no authority except when he speaks truth which connects with the learner? In line with the above direction, I submit the following simplified hermeneutical system:
I have values which are important to me.
Jesus and I do not always agree.
The New Testament authors and I do not always agree.
Faith-filled understanding is the goal for the Christian.
When I dialogue with these sources, I learn and grow. However, it is not the authority of Jesus or the Bible which stimulates growth; people grow when the seeds planted in their consciousness take root, expand, and eventually bloom. The growth-power of Jesus Christ through the centuries marks him as an extraordinary source of spiritual nourishment. Yet, his very familiarity makes it a daunting task to approach the Nazarene from a new direction.
The “Christ of Faith”
If most Americans were shown a thirty-something Caucasian man wearing a white robe, shoulder-length hair and close-cropped beard, chances are the identity-center of their brains will automatically chirp: “I know that guy!” Chances are the answer won’t be, “That’s John Lennon…” The fair-skinned, robed image will immediately conjure up memories of stained glass portraits and full color prints of childhood, despite the fact that the Nazarene probably looked more like an Semitic Arab than a Norse Viking. And why is the instant recognition software installed in almost everybody’s brain? Because they know him.
Notwithstanding his long-ago lifetime and lofty location in literature and liturgy, Jesus is not some distant deity, enthroned in Olympian splendor for many people. Men and women today feel intimately acquainted with Jesus. People you and I have met and known personally insist that they have met and known Jesus, personally. People swear he has changed their lives, made them better human beings. Not only that, he continues to do so. He walks with them and talks with them—not in the distant past, but now, in the twenty-first century. Although no one alive today has stood face-to-face with the historic figure whose memory glows amidst the shadows of antiquity, a lot of people alive today really, really love Jesus in an intimate and personal way, like a loved one gone to war. Distant, yet present in living memory, preserved by re-read letters and daily conversations, like phone calls from beyond the edge of the world.
Looking past devotional lenses, the picture gets both clearer and more complicated. Some religious scholars argue that most Jesus concepts which have come down to us are actually based on a Christ of faith, a customized icon of Christian devotion, created and recreated in successive generations to meet the needs of the era.[1] And the scholars are at least technically correct; it is an undisputed historical fact that people have re-interpreted and re-shaped the image of Jesus depending on where and when they lived. The ascetic Jesus of the third century desert Saint is a wholly different spiritual being than the richly enthroned Jesus of Elizabethan Protestantism, and neither are recognizable in the revivalist Savior of the American frontier. Asian Christians tend to paint their Master with almond eyes; African Christians see him as black—which is probably an overstatement, but nevertheless stands closer to the Semitic original than the Scandinavian Jesus of European sacred art, mentioned above.
There is nothing particularly sinister about this; people reproduce themselves in their religious art because those are the available models. That which is normative is that which a person sees in normal, daily life. This innocuous act of creating the world in one’s image usually proceeds unexamined, especially when it is functions well. When applied to Jesus, the results of this process are predictable.
Jesus Christ: Work-in-Progress...
One might also say, not without controversy, that the man of Nazareth has been an imaginary spiritual playmate for millions—confidante, silent lover, best friend, surrogate father-brother-husband; trusted King when earthly governments fail, all-purpose superhero who will save the day before the final credits roll. A sympathetic skeptic might say, “No matter. Love is always irrational. So long as the people who worship him are happy in their ‘relationship’ with the Jesus they have created, what’s the difference?” And the objective observer would have to agree, to a point. Dream-state spirituality based on a manufactured Christ of Faith does not necessarily belie the reality of a connection to Jesus himself, because none but a cynic would deny that daily visits with the devotional Jesus have enriched countless lives.
This acknowledgement requires any post-modern investigator to begin Christological study with a frank appreciation for the Christ of faith, regardless of how culturally bound is his image may be. Billions of people—who have worshiped Jesus as Master, Savior, and Lord—have incontestably entered into a faith-relationship with something beyond the reach of rational inquiry, a spiritual resource which puts them in touch with God and grants them assurance of pardon, strength for daily living, and peace of mind.
That being said, it should be briskly apparent that this book of essays is not intended for the “Master-Savior-Lord” section of pews in the Church Universal. It is for the questioners in the crowd—people who admire and perhaps even feel great affection for Rabbi Yeshua Ben Josef but nevertheless want to climb beyond religious infatuation while holding firmly onto the steady rail of contemporary thought during the ascent. My suspicion is their numbers are legion. During thirty-plus years in ministry, I have frequently encountered post-modern “believers” who indicate they want the intimacy of personal belief but are not willing to surrender the head to gain the heart.
Yet, they know intuitively that there is something special about this man. His praise of the peacemakers, his love of truth, his blessing and approval of children, his acceptance of foreigners and outcasts in his stories, his willingness to speak to women as equals—these qualities sparkle within the scriptural picture of Jesus only because life experiences have allowed us to see these qualities today as virtuous. Jesus today represents forgiveness, inclusivity, and unconditional love. However, this sentimental description of Jesus as the God-man who loves and approves of everyone, the very incarnation of Beatle George Harrison’s Hindu gospel song “My Sweet Lord,” would be wholly unintelligible to large portions of the Christian world until the twentieth century.
In the past, Christians have invoked Jesus as a judge-executioner, god of war, avenging angel, and abusive father-figure meting out discipline which today would be called child abuse. In 312 C.E. the first Christian Emperor said that God had instructed him to emblazon symbols of the Christ on the shields of his legions. When Constantine the Great met his rival, Maxentius, at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, Constantine believed it was those symbols which bought him victory. This is not the Jesus of Martin Luther King, Jr., but a Lord of battle who strikes the foe in the Name of God. Later, Medieval armies would march under the cross as they pillaged their way across Europe to rescue the Holy Land from the heathen Muslims.
And it wasn’t always governments who acted violently in the Name of Jesus. European children were taught by strict “Christian” standards, like the parents of the Protestant reformer Martin Luther, who beat him for minor offenses until the blood flowed. Until relatively recently, beggars and debtors were tossed in prison, women had no rights, and even the mildest offenses were met with death by hanging. Childhood had no meaning until the abolition of child labor, and African slavery made a mockery of the Sermon on the Plain with its “Blessed are the poor…” Only after humans had lived through these tough times did they begin to discover in the words of Jesus a better way to better living, a model hidden in his miracle stories and rabbinic instructions, perhaps waiting for humanity to mature unto the point when people understood that to love one another and love your enemies were not contradictory mandates.
Yet, as a template for human character, Jesus of Nazareth certainly offers a full plate of healthy choices. He was a spiritual adventurer who forgave those who needed forgiveness, challenged those who needed a contradictory voice, and met people where they were. He grew, learned, loved, feared, conquered his fears, and remained faithful unto death. When it was all over, in the ebbing moments of his life, he prayed for forgiveness on behalf of the very people who had murdered him.
Would that all of us could go and do likewise.
Deep appreciation for the contributions of Jesus to human life—even love of Jesus, if you will—should not blind people to the facts about Jesus, or the lack thereof. Having made these preliminary remarks, which were designed to suggest the complexity and depth of the Jesus subject, let’s take a deep breath, step back from the haze, and begin with some first thoughts.
[1] Robert W. Funk, Honest to Jesus (NY: HarperSanFransisco, 1996), 42.
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