The Unvarnished Jesus: A Lenten Journey

by Brian Zahnd

A re-engagement with Jesus caused a weak, watery, diluted Christianity to be transformed into something rich, robust, and intoxicating.

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.

But as Walter Brueggemann says, the problem with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.

There is a certain amount of wealth that belongs to every human being. As the early church father Ambrose of Milan (340–397) said, “You are not making a gift of your possession to a poor person. You are handing over to him what is his.”

Coveting (which is the engine of capitalism) places us in economic competition with our neighbors and makes it very difficult for us to engage in neighborly love.

When we’re in competition with our neighbors it’s hard to love them.

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. James and John were still laboring under the ancient lie that the only way to really change the world is through the force of violent power.

There is no such thing as a Christlike Caesar—there is only Christ and his cross.

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.

There’s a fish restaurant near the Sea of Galilee that will place a shekel coin in the mouth of a grilled St. Peter’s fish. I like that. It’s a whimsical reminder that when we

walk with Jesus we can expect to be surprised by miracles of provision.

In an age where the killing capacity of Cain’s club has been exponentially multiplied by the creation of nuclear arsenals, searching for Noah’s ark on Mount Ararat instead of seeking to rid the world of violence really is an exercise in missing the point!

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.

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.

Jesus is saying that when we observe suffering, the question isn’t who is to blame, but how can we help.

We’ve all seen Christian leaders assign blame upon the victims of epidemics, earthquakes, and tsunamis. But blame is what the satan does. Followers of Jesus are called to co-suffering love, not theological stone throwing.

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.

This is the sin of Job’s friends. They couldn’t resist the temptation of trying to explain what had happened by blaming Job. The book of Job is a study in the seductive cruelty of blaming the victim. The lesson we should learn from the story of Jesus healing the man born blind and the Pharisees’ reaction to it is that we should acknowledge our own blindness and let Jesus be both healer and judge.

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.

To read the Gospels with unflinching honesty prevents us from sliding unwittingly into the ancient Gnostic heresy of Docetism. Docetism (from the Greek word dokein, “to seem”) denies the full humanity of Christ, claiming that Christ only seemed to be fully human.

This parable brims with theological significance as Jesus shows us that the heart of the Father contains no wrath toward sinners, but overflows with gratuitous love.

And we who are sinners called to be saints should find comfort in this. It’s not sin that disqualifies us as disciples of Jesus, but quitting.

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. When we are mesmerized by these conventional means of power, thinking we need to possess them in order to change the world, it reveals that we still have not comprehended the Paschal mystery and have still not understood that Christ has no need for Caesar’s sword.

But the sacrifice of Jesus will tell the truth, expose the lie, and become the sacrifice to end sacrificing. And just as Isaac’s story did not end at Moriah, so Jesus’ story does not end at Golgotha. Lord Jesus, help us to be like Abraham and put down the knife; help us to understand that no one ever again needs to be put to death in order to accomplish the will of God; help us to be the children of God who choose mercy over sacrifice. Amen.