+Z’ev

Today’s assigned readings:

2 Samuel 5:1-12, Acts 17:1-15, Mark 7:24-37

And Paul went in, as was his custom, and on three sabbath days argued with them from the scriptures, explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Messiah to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, “This is the Messiah, Jesus whom I am proclaiming to you.”
Acts 17:2-3

Paul, trained at the feet of the Rabbi Gamaliel, is very adept at debating with the scriptures. He’s got a number of things to deal with: the cultural expectations of Messiah at that time and place were not ready to accept an itinerant, poor preacher who leads no armies. If the people of Israel were to be liberated it was expected that Messiah would do it - overthrow Roman tyranny, restore the Davidic monarchy (first established in today’s 2 Samuel reading) and lead the people into a new golden age. The Disciples seemed, at times, to expect this. We see it, even, in today’s reading from Mark, as they see the Signs and exclaim, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”

But Jesus seems to have had other plans: “Sh! Don’t tell anyone!” He says this a lot.

And here’s Paul in Thessalonica and Berea trying to explain why everything everyone has ever expected is wrong.

And it has been that way throughout the Jewish scriptural tradition. Moses, himself, was an unexpected saviour from an unexpected place - Pharaoh’s own household. The prophets spent a lot of time yelling at the powerful and pointing at unexpected places. The Davidic coup against Saul was a surprise: even the kingly chroniclers can’t cover that up. So should it surprise anyone at all that, once again, God has moved in a surprising way?

Yes. For we never expect it.

Church history is filled with people reacting the same way. The more stabilised the Church became in the empire’s bed, the more monks fled off to the desert. The more socially empowering it became to be a Christian the more preachers in Rome reminded people to care for the poor. Francis came from unexpected quarters to challenge the clergy who owned a lot of stuff - and a lot of power - but had no soul.

I tend to expect a Jesus who is authoritarian, demanding and perfectionist. I’m never good enough…

And instead, over and over I’m slapped upside the head by life: usually hard. And when I wake up, I find Jesus the Hospitable Samaritan cradling my head, weeping for the sadness of this world.

Like the greater part of the communities to whom Paul spoke, I don’t like this Jesus - not only because of some masochism in myself, but because of vindictiveness. I want my Messiah to kick some royal butt too. I mean look, if I’m going to go to hell, a lot of other bastards better come with me.

But I have this sneaking, painful suspicion that any Jesus who could love me would be able to love the rest of you real easy. If he’s taking care of me… crap. It’s very easy for me to understand why the God who loves the multiverse that much would be rejected outright. If he loves those who slew him so much he might even love the Romans! If he loves me even half that much he’s gotta be able to love you.

We reject this over and over even today. We don’t like Jesus the Pacifist. We like to read “Jesus who rejected the holy rule followers” as “Jesus who rejected the Holy Rule Followers because they were not holy enough.” We would much rather focus on the Jesus who might not love us enough to get us into heaven, because that makes it easier to focus on the Jesus who certainly doesn’t love you at all.

The problem is, over and over, the hard knocks of life put us in the arms of that Jesus we don’t want to see…

And if he loves me that much, shouldn’t I have to love you?