The
Scandal of the Cross
September
13, 2022
Let’s face it.
Jesus of Nazareth was a loser. He came to transform the world, and the Romans
crucified him for it. To them he was a criminal not a savior. They treated him
like the criminal they thought he was. They didn’t just execute him, they
crucified him. Crucifixion was and was meant to be a horrific way to die. Mostly
the Romans crucified political prisoners, and that certainly is what he was to
them. They didn’t crucify him because he had an unorthodox view of Judaism. They
didn’t crucify him because he had come to save souls. They didn’t crucify him
as the last part of some divine plan of salvation. They couldn’t have cared
less about those things. They crucified him because he proclaimed the kingdom
of God. The Romans knew what kingdom was real, and it wasn’t the kingdom of
God. They knew who the king was, and it wasn’t God. They crucified not because
they thought he was a spiritual threat, they crucified him because they saw
that he was indeed a political threat. They crucified him just like they had
crucified thousands before him and would crucify thousands after him. He wasn’t
special, he was an ordinary political criminal. So nail him up. Leave him there
to die a miserable death. They had no moral qualms about it. They probably did
it on an order from the governor or some high military official. They probably
did it without a trial. Just like the many other would-be messiahs before him
and after him he had gambled on world transformation and lost. In the eyes of
the world, he really was nothing but a loser.
And we Christians
accept and cling to this pathetic loser as our Lord and Savior! How can that
be? Yes, Jesus’ crucifixion wasn’t the end of his story, but his resurrection
doesn’t obviate his crucifixion. His crucifixion still happened. It is perhaps
the one thing that most clearly differentiates his life from the lives of the
founding figures of other great faith traditions. As far as we know, the
Buddha, Moses, and Muhammad all died of natural causes. Jesus didn’t. He was
executed, that is, he was legally murdered by the secular authorities of his
time and place. He was a loser. His death on a cross should have been the end
of him and of his movement. That’s certainly what the Romans who killed him
expected his death to be.
But it wasn’t.
How could that be? Yes, Jesus’ resurrection is a big part of the explanation
for his death not being the end of him. Yet there is still that damned cross.
I’m sure that people who heard what the Apostles said about Jesus had to wonder:
Would God turn an abject failure into the savior of the world? Could a common
political prisoner be the Son of God? Would God become human as a meaningless
peasant from a meaningless little town in a meaningless part of the Roman
Empire? To most people in the decades after Jesus’ crucifixion the obvious and
undeniable answer to those questions was “No.” The cross of Christ certainly
was, as St. Paul said, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to gentiles. 1
Corinthians 1:23. The cross of Christ was indeed something the earliest
Christians had to come to terms with.
And come to terms
with it they did. How? They proclaimed Christ crucified to be “the power of God
and the wisdom of God.” 1 Corinthians 1:24. NRSV. But that really doesn’t make
any sense, does it. A crucified man is utterly powerless, and wise men don’t
get themselves crucified. Isn’t Christ on the cross an image of powerlessness
not power? Doesn’t a man dying miserably on a cross to which the local
authorities have nailed him an image of foolishness not wisdom? At first glance
they sure seem to be, don’t they.
So how could Paul
think that Christ on the cross is the opposite of what Christ on the cross sure
appears to be? Most Christians would say it’s because in suffering and dying on
the cross, Jesus, as God the Son Incarnate, was paying the price for human sin.
That’s not an acceptable answer to my question for me because I reject that
notion absolutely. I won’t go into why I do in depth. I’ll just say here that
that theory of salvation makes God a cosmic child abuser. For more of an
explanation of my rejection of what is usually called the classical theory of
atonement see Chapter 8, “Beyond the Classical Theory of Atonement,” in either
the original or the revised version of my book Liberating Christianity. And
actually, Paul didn’t have that kind of soteriology (the theology of salvation)
in mind when he wrote 1 Corinthians either. That soteriology hardly appears in
the Bible at all. It wasn’t fully developed until centuries after Jesus. The
monk Anselm of Canterbury did that in his book Cur Deus Homo?, published
in 1107 CE. The classical theory of atonement, also called substitutionary sacrificial
atonement, is not what either Jesus or Paul was about.
We come much
closer to what they were about through a theology called “theology of the
cross.” That name is not entirely satisfactory, for classical atonement theory
is a theology of the cross too, but never mind. That’s what this other theology
is called. Theology of the cross asserts, correctly, that what we see in Jesus
on the cross is God entering into every aspect of human life, even the aspects
of suffering and death. In Jesus’ cry of dereliction on the cross—My God, my
God, why have you forsaken me?—we even see God in solidarity with us in the
human experience of the absence of God, indeed, even in the experience of
believing that God has abandoned us. That’s theology of the cross in a
nutshell. For a fuller exposition of theology of the cross see Chapter 9, “The
Meaning of the Cross, The Demonstration of God’s Solidarity,” in either version
of Liberating Christianity.
OK, but how does
Christ crucified become the power and wisdom of God as Paul says it does? Here’s
my best explanation of how. I’ll start with the notion of the power of God. To
understand how anyone or anything has power, we must begin by understanding
what power is. One of the definitions of power google.com gives us is, “the
capacity or ability to direct or influence the behavior of others or the course
of events.” OK, but it seems to me that there is often another element in our
understanding of power. When we think of someone with power we probably imagine
someone or something that influences the behavior of others through force, that
is, either through violence or the threat of violence. The ancient Hebrews
certainly thought of the power of God that way. They believed that God sought
to force them to obey God’s will through the threat of violent punishment if
they didn’t. To them, both the Assyrian destruction of the northern kingdom of
Israel in 722 BCE and the Babylonian conquest of the southern kingdom of Judah
in 586 BCE were the result of God using or at least allowing the power of
gentile empires to crush the Hebrews as punishment for their idolatry and
multiple failures to do justice.
God certainly
could have expressed God’s power through violence. Lord knows, enough people
today want God to do so. Some people even believe that God will do that
some day. That’s what the nonsense about a second coming of Christ is all
about. This desire says to God, in effect, “You tried it your way with Jesus.
It didn’t work. The world is still a big mess and is still full of unpunished
sinners. So come back and do it our way next time. Forget this peace and love stuff.
Come in power and glory and set the world right.” But here’s the thing. The
ways of God are almost always (or always) the opposite of the ways of the
world. That’s why the power of God looks like weakness to those who operate
only from a worldly perspective.
Did Jesus on the
cross influence the behavior of others? You bet he did! Jesus on the cross
looks weak, but he has influenced more human behavior than any other human ever
has. Of course, we humans often get the meaning of the cross wrong. Far too
often (and once is far too often) we have thought that Jesus on the cross
somehow authorizes us to use violence against people who, for whatever reason, don’t
believe in him and even against people who do believe in him but not in the way
earthly powers, including a powerful institutional church, want them to.
Because we earthlings so readily see Jesus on the cross as weak, we impose our
worldly concepts of power onto him and onto God. We don’t like weakness, or
think we don’t. We want force. We want the bad guys eliminated through whatever
method it takes. We don’t see that in Jesus, so we think he’s weak.
Still, how many
people have had their behavior affected, for good or for ill, by their image of
Jesus on the cross? Too many to count actually. Jesus on the cross has inspired
deep faith in more people than we can even imagine. He has also caused a great
many people to reject Christianity altogether because they find no redeeming
virtue in the image of a man being put to a horrendous death that he didn’t
deserve. They see no virtue in a man who looks so weak to worldly eyes. But God
knew better. God knew that demonstrating salvation God’s way would have a power
unlike any other power the world had ever seen. That, I think, is how Jesus
crucified is the power of God.
Paul also says
that Christ crucified is the wisdom of God. I’ll turn again to google.com for a
definition of wisdom. One place Google directs us for a definition is
merriam-webster.com. The various definitions of wisdom at that site all use the
word “wise” as part of wisdom. That same source defines “wise” as, among other
definitions, “characterized by wisdom: marked by deep understanding, keen discernment,
and a capacity for sound judgment.” If that definition doesn’t fit God it fits
no one! Surely God’s understanding is deeper, God’s discernment is keener, and
God’s judgment is more sound than the understanding, discernment, or judgment of
any mere mortal could ever be. God knows what so few of us humans do, namely,
that God’s ways of love, justice for the least and the lost, peace, and
nonviolence are, in the long run, more powerful than any physical force has
ever been or ever could be.
Jesus on the
cross shows us God’s love for us through what God gave up for us. He
demonstrates God’s demand of justice for the weak and the poor by becoming one
of them and showing them that neither their weakness nor their poverty can
separate them from God. Jesus on the cross demonstrates God’s desire for peace
on earth by demonstrating that violence is not the proper way to peace or to
anything else. Violence, actually, is not God’s way to do anything. That, I
think, is how Jesus on the cross is the wisdom of God.
So to the eyes of
the world Jesus’ cross truly is a scandal. To the eyes of the world Jesus on
the cross looks like abject failure and absolutely not like divine triumph. To
the eyes of the world, Jesus is the image of impotent weakness not power. But
it only looks that way because we see him only with our worldly eyes, beliefs,
and expectations. The cross is a scandal because it fools people. It makes
Jesus, and God for that matter, appear weak, powerless even. It makes Jesus
look like a fool who went and got himself crucified when he could have avoided
that fate easily enough. Yet in truth it shows exactly the opposite. It looks
like weakness, it is divine strength. It looks like foolishness, it is divine
wisdom. May we have eyes that see through the illusions of the world to the
truth and wisdom of God.
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