“The most radical revolution”, part 1/3

 

Dangerous religion

     Historian Tom Holland, with his 2019 book Dominion, has reminded us that we are the inheritors of the greatest ideological, social and religious revolution the world has ever seen.  As 21^st-century Christians, it may be difficult for us to believe that there was ever a time when the Church was a dangerous, subversive and outlawed movement of revolutionaries.  As a contemporary Anglican bishop has said, “Everywhere St. Paul went, there was a riot.  Everywhere I go, they serve tea”.  Whatever the Church in the Global North may now be, we probably wouldn’t use the words “dangerous” or “subversive” to describe it.  How can we be dangerous once again?  As Christians, should we even desire to be “dangerous”?  Dangerous to whom?  Make no mistake about it.  It is impossible to read the New Testament without noticing that this collection of radical books is concerned with the question of power and offers a vision of the world that is indeed revolutionary.  The New Testament is a dangerous book for those who assume that the rich and powerful running the world is simply the way things are and always will be – and there’s nothing to be done about it.

The taming of Christianity

     What happened?  How did this militant movement of resistance become tamed into being a conventional, respectable institution of western society?  How did the Church lose its sense of adventure?  As J.R.R. Tolkien says of the main character of his novel The Hobbit (1937), before his adventure with the dwarves, Bilbo had been a very respectable hobbit who would never have done anything so unconventional as…being late for dinner.  Through the adventure that Gandalf the wizard gets him mixed up in, Bilbo the harmless hobbit becomes “dangerous”, a creature to be reckoned with.  What about us – how did we become so civilized?  We have no time this morning for a complete answer to that question, but suffice it to say that ever since Christianity became part of the mainstream of European society and culture, something was lost.  For Christianity to become “respectable” was for the Church to lose much of its capacity to issue a potent, prophetic challenge to the all-too-often unjust way that western society has organized itself.  (Although it must be said that “Christendom” did indeed make countless invaluable contributions to western civilization, culture, the arts and the sciences).  As long as the European worldview was shaped by Christianity, and as long as the power structures of Europe continued to support the Church, all was “well”.  But then “the Enlightenment” happened (18^th century), and suddenly, the Church was no longer the main ideological reference in Europe.  The Church didn’t disappear of course, but she was no longer the pre-eminent “influencer” of western culture.  As the modern period gathered steam, European intellectuals began to offer alternative accounts of truth, humanity, reality, the cosmos – and of God himself.  Human reason became the measure of all things, as opposed to divine revelation.

19^th-century cynicism

     Let’s take a brief trip to the 19^th-century.  French poet Charles Beaudelaire said that the cleverest trick the Devil ever played on humanity was convincing people he didn’t exist.  Another trick the Devil (perhaps it was him) has played on the Church is convincing her that she has no power.  Indeed, before the advent of modernity, the Church had lots of political clout.  It remains to be seen if political power is the only kind of power that matters, or indeed, if it is the kind of power the Church should seek to wield.  19^th-century European Christianity was largely smug, complacent and politically conservative – a harmless and firmly-entrenched part of the status quo.  This conventional Christianity was challenged by thinkers like Soren Kierkegaard.  This Christianity was called “the opium of the people” by Karl Marx.  For Marx, Christianity was a useful strategy to keep the masses focused on the happiness they would enjoy in the afterlife as opposed to trying to better their economic circumstances in the here and now – a means of political control.  Labor activist Joe Hill expressed this sentiment in his song “Pie in the sky when you die” (1911).  Another seminal 19^th-century thinker that reacted strongly to what Christianity had become was Friedrich Nietzsche.  Nietzsche was disgusted by what he perceived as Christianity’s powerlessness and the “learned helplessness” it had inculcated into European society.  Nietzsche set out to construct a new philosophy that would replace the previous 2,000 years of western thought – which he thought was hopelessly corrupted – with a vision of life that would restore humanity to “greatness” – that would allow humanity to form itself into the Übermensch (i.e. “Superman”).  Nietzsche admired the classical values of the ancient world – strength, power and self-determination as opposed to valuing compassion or having any pity for weakness.  If 19^th-century European Christianity was often perceived as hopelessly weak, ineffective and other-worldly, what does the New Testament have to say about the nature and mission of the Church?  What does the New Testament have to say about power?  Fortunately, we have a book which gives us a snapshot of the early days of the “Jesus-movement”, i.e. the book of The Acts of the Apostles.

The politics of the New Testament

     As we read the first paragraph of the book of Acts, we are struck by its preoccupation with “political” categories.  It must be said, before the modern period (18^th century), there was no strict difference between “religion” and “politics”, between the worship of God/the gods, on the one hand, and the exercise of power, on the other.  Every ancient “government”, ruler and political system was legitimated by its state religion, and the religion in turn was supported and enabled by the powers that were.  Among the words that leap off the page in Acts chapter 1 are “kingdom” and “power”.  We may be so accustomed to assuming that the Bible’s vocabulary concerns strictly “spiritual” realities that we may forget that during the biblical period, no one believed in anything that was purely “spiritual”.  Each god and every “spiritual reality” were inextricably bound up in the day-to-day affairs of humans, including their “religious” and “political” ones.  Every “religious” belief had an immediate impact on daily life and one’s political situation and identity.

A divine revolution

     Make no mistake, when the risen Jesus is shown to be talking with the 11 apostles (Judas is gone) on the Mount of Olives overlooking Jerusalem about the kingdom of God and about power, we can be sure that this discussion is not a mere “pious chat”, a pleasant hillside “Bible study” – no, this is a strategic briefing concerning the future and fate of the people of God as well as all the nations of the world.  If that sounds pretentious, let’s remember that the God of the Bible always sees the Big Picture, always speaks in terms of his people…and the rest of the world.  That’s because the people of God exist as the Creator’s agent of salvation, a salvation whose target is the whole earth.  Remember what God said to Abraham: “I will bless you and make you the father of a great nation…in you all the nations of the earth will be blessed” (cf. Gn. 12.1-3).  It’s there from the beginning – the people of God, as well as all the nations of the world are the target of God’s saving purposes.  It is no different in Acts chapter 1, as the risen Jesus prepares to send the “witnesses” to his resurrection to “the ends of the earth” (Ac. 1.8).  Indeed, the book of Acts comes to an “end” with Paul under house arrest in Rome, speaking freely of the kingdom of God to all who will listen (cf. Ac. 28.30-31).  There can be no doubt that Luke has intentionally book-ended his narrative with explicit mentions of the kingdom of God, because that is precisely what the book of Acts is all about – how the kingdom of God began to be established in the world, the world that had always been run and ruled by the kingdoms of man.

The strange power of God

     Once we disabuse ourselves of the mistaken idea that the “kingdom of God” refers to “heaven”, i.e. a post-mortem destination where we will enjoy a pleasant afterlife, we realize that the entire Bible is constantly developing this theme – the theme that is contained in a prayer that we pray every week (perhaps without realizing it), the theme of God’s “kingdom being established on earth as it is already established in heaven” (cf. Mt. 6.9-10).  The Creator’s plan has always been to recapture his creation from every power that tries to usurp his rightful rule of his world.  As the book of Revelation says:

“Then the seventh angel blew his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, saying,

“The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord
             and of his Messiah,
and he will reign forever and ever.” (Rev. 11.15)

C.S. Lewis called the incarnation of the Son of God the Creator’s “great plan of sabotage”.  Jesus came to start a revolution – God’s “rebellion” against the so-called “rulers” of this world.  Isn’t it strange that the Creator of all things would resort to such tactics?  Surely the true ruler of the cosmos would simply snap his fingers and blow his opponents to “kingdom-come”?  Ah, the God of the Bible has a strange way of exercising power.  The Creator of heaven and earth exercises power without being arrogant, cruel or vengeful.  The God of Jesus exercises power though love and humility.  We are not accustomed to using these words in the same sentence.  How can humility be powerful?  How can love “get things done”?  How can the meek be “blessed”?  How can the peacemakers be “happy”?  How can the persecuted be “successful” (cf. Mt. 5.1-12)?  How can the weak be agents of the power of God (cf. 2 Cor. 12.9-10)?

A subversive sermon

     We have so often ignored the New Testament’s blueprint for changing the world through genuine, wise and life-giving power.  As G.K. Chesterton said: “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult, and left untried.”  In the first half of the 20^th century, as western Christians were busy explaining why they were not obliged to actually obey the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount because Paul says that we are “justified by faith and not by works” (a huge subject for another time), an Indian lawyer and activist named Mohandas Ghandi proved that Jesus’ teaching about non-violent resistance and enemy-love actually works when it is literally obeyed.  Ghandi led his nation in a campaign of non-violent resistance to British rule and succeeded in acquiring independence for India from the British empire in 1947.  And yes, during this 30-year campaign, Ghandi and his fellow-activists were often persecuted, beaten, imprisoned; there were many riots and disturbances as the puzzled British authorities sought to figure out how to respond to this strange revolution.  If you’ve read the book of Acts, you will recognize the similarities between Luke’s account of the first-century Church and Ghandi’s experience in 20^th-century India.  G.K. Chesterton once again: “Jesus promised his disciples three things – that they would be completely fearless, absurdly happy and in constant trouble”.

The triumph of the world’s true Lord

     So, how does Acts chapter 1 address the questions of power and the kingdom of God?  While it may be easy to treat this opening passage as simply a rather strange, quaint story of Jesus being “beamed back up” to heaven in order to resume being “divine”, that would be another mistake.  Jesus is exalted to “the right hand of God” (cf. Ac. 2.33) precisely as the glorified human being, the king of Israel and Lord of the world (cf. Ac. 2.36).  Jesus’ “ascension” is not the story of him taking leave of the affairs of this world, with him muttering “I’ll be back!” as he vanishes into the clouds.  (He will indeed be back, but that’s another story).  Jesus’ ascension is his triumph, his vindication after having suffered unjustly, it is his enthronement in the position of ultimate cosmic authority and power – at “the right hand of God” (cf. Ps. 110.1; Lk. 20.41-44).  It is precisely from heaven that Jesus exercises his reign over the world as Messiah and Lord.  Remember, in the Bible, everything “heavenly” has an impact on “earth”, everything “spiritual” has an effect on everything “material”.  The biblical world is an enchanted world.

An alternative gospel about a different Lord

     This is the logic of Luke’s narrative – it is only once Jesus has been exalted and enthroned (like the Son of Man in Daniel 7.13-14; cf. Lk. 17.20-37; 21.25-28) that the apostles can go throughout the world and proclaim the “gospel” of his triumph and enthronement.  Because this is precisely what the term euangelion (“gospel”) meant in the first-century Roman empire.  Whenever a Roman general won a victory, whenever a new emperor was enthroned in Rome (often after having won a civil war), the imperial heralds would proclaim the “gospel” (good news) of Rome’s military victory and/or the crowning of a new Caesar.  The “gospel of Rome” was that the “Senate and people of Rome” (SPQR) had been granted victory by the gods and that the emperor would now rule the world and thereby establish peace and justice for all.  Now we see what Luke is doing – through his two-volume work, Luke is (not so) subtly undermining Roman imperial propaganda with a “gospel” of his own, the good news that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah of Israel, and therefore, as Psalm 2 had promised, the true Lord of “the ends of the earth” (Cp. Ac. 1.8 with Ps. 2.8).  Sorry Caesar.

     Once you read the Gospel of Luke and the book of Acts through this lens, everything starts to make new sense.  Mary’s Magnificat (Lk. 1.46-55), the story of the shepherds coming to see the newborn Jesus (Lk. 2.1-20), they all serve to underline Luke’s subversive and dangerous message – a devastating danger to the Roman imperial order has appeared in the far-flung province of Judea.  The world’s true Lord has come, and his very birth exposes Caesar as a fraud (cf. Ac. 17.6-7).  Through his two-volume work, Luke is telling the “good news” of how the Creator God has begun the reconquest of his world, through his “witnesses” who are soon to be filled with the power, not of military prowess or political savvy, but with the irresistible power of the Spirit of God himself, the same Spirit that had filled Jesus at his baptism (cf. Lk. 3.21-22).  As Jesus had been empowered by the Holy Spirit for his mission to Israel, so the apostles are likewise empowered before embarking on their mission to the ends of the earth.

The triumph of the Creator

     Of course, all of this hinges on the resurrection of Jesus from the dead.  The Resurrection is not an inconvenient “supernatural” detail that can be glossed out of the story without consequence.  Had Luke not believed in the reality of Jesus’ resurrection, he would never have put pen to paper.  There would have been no “good news” to tell.  If Jesus’ story had ended on (not-so) Good Friday, there would be absolutely no basis for challenging the power of Rome.  The crucifixion of Jesus would simply have been one more confirmation and demonstration of inexorable imperial power.  In such a world, the most prudent thing to do is to keep paying your taxes, keep your head down and hope for the best.  However, if Jesus rose from death into a state of embodied immortality, thus demonstrating his power over the imperial machine, then the world has changed.  Tyrants no longer have the last word!  The worst they can do is kill you; but God can raise you up!  When the Creator God re-creates life from death, order from chaos, light from darkness, what can human kingdoms do?  As Psalm 2 says, the most prudent course of action is to “Serve the Lord with fear; with trembling kiss his feet…” (Ps. 2.11-12).  The reality of the resurrection and the experience of the power of the Holy Spirit provide us with the confidence we need to take on the world with the revolutionary gospel of Jesus.  As followers of Jesus, we are not simply another group of “spiritual” or “religious” people.  Rather, we are followers of the unique Lord, the unique incarnation of the Word of the one true God (cf. Jn. 1.1, 14), the one who reveals God’s very nature (cf. Hb. 1.1-4), the true human being (cf. Col. 1.15), the ultimate Judge – He who is the Way, the Truth and the Life (cf. Jn. 14.6).

It's time

     As you know, if you’ve read Luke’s two volumes, relying on the power of love in a world that’s in love with power is no easy thing.  It’s downright dangerous.  Just ask Jesus.  Just ask the apostles.  Just ask our sisters and brothers in many parts of the Global South.  But that’s why we are here.  We are here to change the world.  Make no mistake.  If we are not possessed with a sense of excitement, a sense of urgency, a sense of adventure, a sense of expectation, a sense of trepidation, a sense of wonder – we are missing the point of being part of the people of God in this time and place.  Open your eyes, look around.  Where is there injustice?  Where is there despair?  Where is there hatred?  Where is there darkness?  Where is there sadness?  Where is there danger?  Where these things are to be found, there lies our mission.  Perhaps it’s time to become “dangerous” once again.  It’s time to be filled once more with the power of the Spirit.  It’s time to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord.  It’s time to ask our Father to set up his kingdom in our midst.  It’s time to join the revolution.  Amen.