Christianity

Blue Gal over at Street Prophets is asking people to participate in blog against theocracy this Easter weekend, so that's what I had intended to do today. 

I've been thinking a lot about Jesus' death, especially for someone who isn't Christian. And it occurred to me that Jesus was a victim of theocracy. Bear in mind that this is coming from someone who doesn't believe that Jesus was sent to die for our sins. I see his crucifixion as a state-sanctioned murder of someone who preached a radically liberal message of inclusivity and threatened established authority, both religious and state. Although, if Jesus were merely a victim, he wouldn't mean much to me. The Romans executed thousands. It was the way that Jesus unflinchingly lived his values of radical love and inclusivity, in the face of overwhelming power, that makes him a "first amongst equals" - fully human, and also fully divine.

I digress.... Some may question the claim that 1st century Jerusalem was a theocracy. After all, the political power was Rome whereas the religious power was the Temple high priests. While Herod may have been installed by the Romans (Marc Anthony), the Temple priests surely were not. But Herod and the Priests had entered into a cozy deal with Rome. In exchange for some amount of autonomy (and ability to collect wealth), sacrifices were offered in the Temple on behalf of Rome and the Emperor twice a day. The net result was the perception that the God of the Jews endorsed the legitimacy of Roman power.

Thus, religious authoritarian structure was supported by the state and in turn supported the state. This mutually beneficial arrangement assured that no one would be looking out for the welfare of the people. Until Jesus. And as he threatened this unholy alliance, he had to be done away with.

One of the main purposes of the "Church" is to bear witness against the injustices of authority. This is what the Jewish prophets did, bearing witness against Egyptian pharaohs and even Jewish kings. No one was beyond accountability. But the "Church" cannot hold the State accountable if its livelihood is dependent upon the State.

This was one of the primary concerns of our Founding Fathers as they carefully crafted the system of checks and balances intended to keep tyrannies in check. Many people now, see the separation of church and state as ensuring "freedom from religion." They see religion as the tyrant that the 1st amendment protects them from. But the original intent of the wall of separation was "freedom of religion," protecting religion's ability to be an independent voice of conscience, against the State if need be. Either way you look at it, separation protects everyone.

In some ways, Good Friday was a day like any other day. Around noon time I made my way over to Silver Spring to have lunch with my friend, Kat. While it's been longer than we would have liked since our last lunch, this was not an unusual thing.

But as we sat in Panera catching up, we became aware of a ruckus outside. A mob of people were walking by the big glass windows, dressed in robes. Some male youth in Roman costumes with large, plastic, golden swords. Some others in plainer, earthen colored robes. I had to explain to Kat that they were re-enacting the Stations of the Cross. And the youth didn't seem to quite have it down, because while the Stations of the Cross is supposed to be a somber time in which to reflect upon the pain and humiliation that Jesus suffered leading up to his crucifixion, these boisterous kids in costumes were acting like it was a carnival. The contrast was quite amusing.

But as we continued to watch the crowd go by, the youth were replaced by older participants, and the mood grew much more somber. Kat remarked how you could literally see the atmosphere change. The sky seemed to darken.

The Stations of the Cross. Jesus' suffering for us.

Tonight I attended my church's annual Tenebrae service. Tenebrae means "shadows" in Latin, and the service consisted of readings from the Passion story leading up to Jesus' death. As the service progresses, the lights grow dimmer and dimmer. Finally, we shuffle up for communion (the only time its done at All Souls), and then out into the night in silence. Whether or not one believes that Jesus was God, and I do not, it is a powerful service. A time to reflect on pain, and fear, and betrayal, and the brokenness of our world.

I sorrowed as Bill read about Jesus alone in the garden, fearful, and not even his closest friends would stay awake to comfort him. I wept when Delabian read about Peter's betrayal, thinking of the times when I had not stood up when I should have. Jesus would likely have died no matter what, but his suffering would have been lessened had he not experienced betrayal and abandonment by his friends.

I have caused that kind of suffering myself, in many smaller ways. Surely I have sinned and need to be brought back into communion again. Tonight was the first time I ever thought of Good Friday as a time of atonement, like Yom Kippur, not for original sin, but for the sins of betrayal and abandonment.

The communion of which we partook should have been that opportunity for coming back into community. But I did not find it particularly meaningful. We went thru the motions of communion, coming out of the Christian tradition, but without an articulated UU theology which would have tied it to the experience of grief and remorse.

I do not believe that Jesus died to atone for my sins. We as UUs do not call the bread his flesh, nor the grape juice his blood. So what then does the communion represent? Maybe Easter will shed some light.