The Unvarnished Jesus: A Lenten Journey

by Brian Zahnd

As the book of Proverbs says, “There is a way that seems right to a person, but its end is the way to death.” Most of us are scripted to think that life is a game and the purpose of life is to win. This is the way that seems right. But the divine truth is that life is a gift and the purpose of life is to learn to love well.

The truth is that for most of us economic self-interest is the single greatest obstacle to full participation in the kingdom of God. We cannot love our neighbor as our self without being willing to share our wealth.

They way of Christ is not the way of conquest and colonialism, but the way of co-suffering love.

So Jesus explained to his disciples that though the way of empire is to seek domination, “it shall not be so among you.” The kingdom of God is a kingdom of love, not domination. As followers of Jesus we are called to the practice of radical patience, because the kingdom of God is without coercion. We persuade by love, witness, Spirit, reason, rhetoric, and if need be, by martyrdom, but never by force. This is what Alan Kreider described as “the patient ferment of the early church.”

The early church understood that the kingdom of God did not and could not come through Caesar or the ways of Caesar, thus they had no ambition to wield the power of Caesar’s sword. There is no such thing as a Christlike Caesar—there is only Christ and his cross. May we remember this today.

But if we never actually ask Jesus to specifically and definably intervene in our life, though we may shield ourselves from disappointment, we also preclude the possibility of experiencing a miracle. We need to risk disappointment in prayer.

The devil came to Jesus the same way the devil comes to us—disguised as our own thoughts. As Jesus considered the course of his ministry, the devil tempted him to compromise the integrity of his mission. Jesus couldn’t be tempted by overt evil, so the devil tempted him with a trilogy of “good ideas.” The three good ideas suggested by the devil were to feed everyone, persuade everyone, and liberate everyone. And who could disagree with these ideas? They seem like good ideas. But there’s a devil lurking in those good ideas, a devil that Jesus discerned.

The unvarnished Jesus cannot be empirically proved or reduced to a spokesperson for a preferred ism. Jesus will not be the poster boy for left-wing activism or right-wing militarism. Jesus has his own agenda—it’s just and peaceable, but first of all it worships God.

Though we could speak of doing the impossible, I think it’s better to speak of becoming what we once thought was impossible. The emphasis should always be on becoming over doing. At one point in his life Abraham thought it was impossible for him to become a father—it was so impossible that he laughed at the thought of it. But through faith that’s exactly what he became. The seed of faith grew in Abraham’s life until one day he became what he had previously assumed was impossible.

But it’s how the temple tax is paid that makes the story so delightful—from a shekel coin found in a fish’s mouth! People who followed Jesus always found that there was somehow more than enough. Water turned into wine, loaves and fish multiplied, and money for a tax bill was found in a fish’s mouth. Jesus taught his disciples not to worry about provision. When we seek first the kingdom of God, what we need will be provided.

Today let’s remember to pay attention to the little ones around us. Seek them out. Lift them up. Give them the grace of being seen, heard, and respected. Let us alert the overlooked to the dignity that is theirs by virtue of being a child of God.

And so the Savior of the world directs us toward a re-appropriation of Lamech’s seventy time seven equation, applying it to the practice of radical forgiveness. The most remarkable thing about Christ-informed ethics is its commitment to forgiveness—indeed, if Christianity is about anything, it’s about forgiveness. So Jesus calls us beyond the ever-escalating revenge of Lamech and beyond the mitigated revenge of Moses into a world where revenge is renounced altogether. Jesus saves the world by turning exponential revenge into exponential forgiveness.

As passé as it may sound to cynical ears, if we want faith in Jesus to remain realistically possible in a secular age, one of the most valuable things we can do is bring children to church. We need to raise children in the community that is formed and sustained by the grand narrative of Scripture—a story that culminates in the gospel of Jesus Christ. In an irreligious culture where not much is sacred, we need to introduce children to the sacred place where sacrament is formative and faith is normative.

In the story a group of people worked all day and received a fair wage for a day’s work. But another group of people worked only one hour and received the same wage. We deride that as welfare. We’re convinced it’s inequitable. We call it unfair. But Jesus calls it the kingdom of heaven! The kingdom of heaven is not a meritocracy; the kingdom of heaven is an economy of grace. The vineyard owner (who obviously represents God) was more interested in giving people what they needed than giving them what they deserved—and he was willing to do so at his own expense. The only person who suffers loss in this parable is the vineyard owner. In this story no one is cheated. The anger of the group paid last was based not in any injustice they had suffered, but in their own envious resentment.

Wars of conquest, capital punishment, violent retribution, the institution of slavery, and women held as property are all “biblical,” but when seen in the light brighter than the sun shining from the face of Christ, everything must be re-evaluated because Jesus is what God has to say!

All Scripture is fulfilled in and by Jesus Christ. So if we don’t see it in Jesus, we let it go—because even the Bible must bow to Jesus. If we read the Bible allowing it to do what it does best by pointing us to Jesus, we are engaging with Scripture properly. But if we read the Bible in search of texts to force Jesus to conform to our ideas about who to hate and how to justify violence, we can expect to be rebuked by the spirit of the living Christ.

Who is my neighbor? The person I have an opportunity to love, help, and alleviate their suffering. The biblical text case for love of God is love of neighbor and the biblical test case for love of neighbor is love of enemy.

Martha, the busy sister, is well-intended, but her noble intentions aren’t enough to prevent her from being anxious and troubled. Peace of mind is not the merited award for strict adherence to duty, but is a state cultivated through contemplative practices centered on Jesus. Isaiah said, “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are stayed on you.” Without some form of contemplative practice we will spend too much time in one of three undesirable mental states: drifting back into the painful past, flitting about in the distracted present, or rushing ahead into the anxious future. Mary had learned the good practice—to sit with Jesus in the contemplative present. Without intentionally cultivating what Brother Lawrence called “the practice of the presence of God,” our service for God will eventually become burdensome and will either be abandoned or carried out as an onerous duty.

Christ I acknowledge you. Christ above me, very God of very God. Christ below me, incarnate of the earth. Christ before me when seen. Christ behind me when unseen. Christ at my right hand in my strength. Christ on my left in my weakness. Christ all around me filling all things everywhere with himself. Christ within me, formed by faith.

Jesus’ teaching on hell is basically this: If you refuse to love, you cannot enter the kingdom of God and will end up a lonely tormented soul. If we take Jesus seriously as a teacher, we must never think the gospel is a means by which we can ignore God, scorn the suffering, mock the poor, and have everything turn out alright. If you want to know how to find hell, follow the path set by the rich man and you’ll get there!

In the Temple the Pharisee is fully aware of the tax collector as he vainly poses before God. The tax collector, on the other hand, is aware only of his own sin and his desperate need for God’s mercy. And the tax collector is the only one who received God’s mercy.

Jesus dined with both Pharisees and tax collectors. Jesus was willing to share a table with tax collectors despite their sins of dishonesty and extortion, and Jesus was willing to share a table with Pharisees despite their sins of self-righteousness and pride.

Salvation is not a mere change in our status, but a real transformation of our lives. Jesus brought salvation to a tax collector by simply alerting him to his true identity. At his core Zacchaeus wasn’t really a con and a cheat; that was a corruption of his true identity. Zacchaeus was really a wayward son of Abraham who needed to be sought out in love and restored to the table of fellowship. Zacchaeus was a real life prodigal son redeemed by love.

In the 21st century, the devil still tells big lies. In an age of nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons capable of eradicating all human life, the way of war is still foolishly romanticized and deemed a legitimate way to shape the world. But Lent is a time to repent, to rethink, to reimagine. Today let us heed the warning of Jesus and remember that there is no way to peace…peace is the way.

This story should speak to modern people in a particular way. Social media is especially susceptible to a mob spirit, and we must resist it. Let Lent be a time for us to repent of casting stones with the mob. Those of us who follow Jesus can never follow the crowd and must never act according to the mob spirit.

The story opens with the disciples observing the man born blind and raising a theological question of who is to blame for it. But Jesus dismisses this line of questioning. Jesus is saying that when we observe suffering, the question isn’t who is to blame, but how can we help.

There is an innocence in admitting that we are too blind to pass judgment on others. We don’t have to have an opinion on everything, especially when the question is who is to blame. It’s enough for us to say, “I don’t know who is to blame, I’m just here to help.” But when we claim to have 20/20 vision in judging the sins of others and assigning blame, our own sin remains.

Today let’s listen for the peaceable voice of our Good Shepherd. We live in a time when there is an increase of demagogues and populist leaders making messiah-like claims—“Only I can fix it.” But if it’s a voice that cherishes the memory of colonialism (stealing), or endorses war because God is on our side (killing), or incites hostility toward vilified scapegoats (destruction), you can be sure it’s not a voice that comes from the Good Shepherd, and is not a voice Christians should follow. Let us be so accustomed to listening to the voice of the unvarnished Jesus found in the Gospels that we are sheep who will not follow the voice of a stranger.

The raising of Lazarus is given to us as a sign conveying that no one is beyond the saving reach of Jesus Christ. No matter how dead we are in our sins, Jesus is the one who has the power to recall us back to life.

At Gethsemane we witness in hushed reverence as Jesus willingly empties himself of divine privilege in order to fully share in human suffering. The Apostle Paul describes the act of kenotic love like this: “Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to, but emptied himself.” It is the willing descent of Christ into suffering and death that becomes the source of our salvation, or as the Apostle Peter says, “By his wounds we are healed.”

Was Judas trying to force Jesus to resort to violence and start the war for Jewish independence? I think so. The reason Judas greeted Jesus with the customary kiss (which was also a covert sign) is that Judas didn’t so much want to betray Jesus as he wanted to manipulate Jesus. Judas wanted to provoke Jesus into launching a violent revolution. Judas wanted to remain a part of the inner circle of disciples following a now violent Jesus. Judas acted like he was still a faithful disciple because Judas wanted to be a faithful disciple—but only on his own terms. Judas didn’t want to betray Jesus, he wanted to control Jesus. Judas wanted Jesus to be Messiah in a certain way—violent. When we try to make Jesus be the kind of king who will support our political agenda through violent power, we betray Jesus with a kiss.

And what we don’t find in the parable is just as significant. There is no appeasement theology. The father doesn’t first rush to the servants’ quarters to beat a whipping boy and satisfy his wrath before he can forgive his wayward son. No! In the story of the prodigal son, the father bears the loss and forgives his son from his treasury of inexhaustible love. He just forgives. There is no payment, there is no appeasement. Justice as punishment is what the resentful brother called justice. Justice as reconciliation is what the loving father called justice. The only wrath we find in the parable belongs to the Pharisee-like older brother, not the God-like father.

It’s not sin that disqualifies us as disciples of Jesus, but quitting. Peter denied Jesus, but he didn’t quit, and he was forgiven and restored. Judas betrayed Jesus…and hung himself. Judas’ betrayal of Jesus and Peter’s denial of Jesus were not categorically different sins; they may have differed in culpability, but they were similar. If Peter could be forgiven and restored, so could Judas.

The crowd that gathers on Good Friday shouting, “Give us Barabbas!,” is far more plausible and numerous than most of us imagine. If we think that killing our enemies is compatible with Christian ethics, we are in effect saying, “Give us Barabbas!”

And how Jesus became King on Good Friday is how his Kingdom still comes today. It comes by co-suffering love expressed in forgiveness. It doesn’t come by the Machiavellian machinations of politics or by the blood letting of a battlefield. How the Kingdom of Christ comes into the world has nothing to do with who sits in the White House or with who runs the Pentagon.

This is the beauty of the body of Christ and why the church is so necessary. Christianity is not a solo project; we can’t go it alone. David couldn’t do it by himself. Elijah couldn’t do it by himself. Even Jesus couldn’t do it by himself. And you can’t do it by yourself. Some days we have the honor of being Simon of Cyrene and helping a brother or sister carry their cross when it has become too much for them. Other days we are the one in need of a Simon of Cyrene. Whether we are helping or being helped, it’s all the grace of God.

Finally, the cross re-founds the world. When we see Jesus lifted up on the cross, perfectly displaying the love of God by forgiving the sin of the world, we find the place where human society is reorganized. Instead of a world organized around an axis of power enforced by violence, we discover a world organized around an axis of love expressed in forgiveness. As we gaze long upon the sacred mystery of Christ crucified, we find ourselves being drawn into the saving orbit of love and forgiveness.

Jesus had tried to pull Jerusalem back from its hell-bent ways, but he knew that he had only given Jerusalem a forty-year stay of sentence. Jesus was the green tree who taught and embodied the way of peace and love, yet he was still crucified. The sons of the weeping women of Jerusalem will be the dry wood who will foolishly advocate for the way of war. Jesus is saying that if the Romans can inflict such a fire of suffering on the green tree of peacemaking, what amount of suffering will they kindle in the dry trees of war-waging. Jesus weeps for these women and their children because he knows that Jerusalem is headed for hell—the hell of war.

I read and interpret the entirety of Scripture from the lofty vantage point of Mount Calvary where Jesus hangs upon a cross with his arms outstretched in proffered embrace imploring forgiveness for his murderers.

One thief sees in Jesus the possibility of a new kingdom centered in forgiveness and believes. The other thief cannot resist the old satanic way of exporting guilt through blame…but only one response leads to the Paradise of union with Christ.

Jesus knows what it is to feel forsaken by God, and in his suffering Jesus uttered the bewildered Cry of Dereliction. But in his death Jesus committed his spirit into the hands of the Father he knows will never forsake him. Sometimes when we’ve done all we can do, there’s nothing more to be done than to put everything in the hands of the God who will never abandon us.

There truly was a time when it could be said that God is dead, because whatever it means for a human being to experience the final dissolution of death, God in Christ has fully experienced. When we speak of Incarnation and Immanuel our minds are immediately drawn to Christmas and the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the manger. But Christ is never more Immanuel than when he is wrapped in grave clothes lying in the tomb. Yes, Jesus Christ is God with us in birth and life, but he is also God with us in sorrow and death.

Jesus’ triumphal entry was the anti-military parade. It was a mockery of Rome’s intimidating show of military power. It also presented Jerusalem with a stark contrast between the way of war and the way of peace. At the beginning of Holy Week, Pontius Pilate and Jesus of Nazareth are at the head of two very different parades. The question for us is which parade are we marching in—the military parade of Pilate that still believes the world is to be shaped by war, or the peace parade of Jesus that understands that with the coming of Christ war has been abolished?