[This just clips off the opening few paras and offers up a new lead . . . making the whole just a touch shorter.]
Faith Works 1-9-21 second draft
Jeff Gill
Lord, grant us peace
___
While journalism is the "first draft of history," which probably makes column writing the "scribbled notes of the compromised second draft," there's such a thing as too soon. Too soon for my temper, too soon from my pastoral reflexes, too soon to work into specific preaching responses out of the general story as we have it so far.
While journalism is the "first draft of history," which probably makes column writing the "scribbled notes of the compromised second draft," there's such a thing as too soon. Too soon for my temper, too soon from my pastoral reflexes, too soon to work into specific preaching responses out of the general story as we have it so far.
What I find fascinating is how, as I turn to the New Testament writings that are my primary guide for "how should we then live," I note that Jesus takes relatively little note of the political leaders of his day. We all know "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's" showing it wasn't that Jesus wasn't aware of Julius or Augustus, carved on the coinage as they were. Herod, the Greater and his son Herod Antipas each have a role to play in the Gospel story.
But Jesus doesn't spend much or really any time preaching against them and their policies. He does address the abuses in and stemming from the Temple authorities, including making reference to the tax collectors, all of whom were seen as enemy collaborators, if you will. Jewish tools in the hands of the Romans, or those who used Roman power for their own ends as we see in the events of Passion week with the death of Jesus.
Still, there's a political context of a very particular sort inherent in the whole arc of the Gospels. But it's not politics as we tend to frame them. Where we see the world of faith in resistance to the world of power and privilege is most clear when the latter attempts to make claims over and above those of the eternal and everlasting.
An example at the outset: everyone would have known in Jesus's day about how Herod the Great, in his desperation to keep and control absolute power in Judea, killed not one but three of his sons. Augustus Caesar himself, the emperor who kept Herod on his throne as a distant subjected ruler, is said to have observed it was better to be Herod's pig than his son. (The quip is even more ironic in Greek, actually, with the words for pig and son sounding similar.)
So while Herod killed his sons to keep power for himself in Jerusalem, God sends a Son to offer the power of grace and love to work in the world. That would have been a parallel easily heard in that world whether you spoke Greek, Hebrew, or some barbaric outland tongue. A different approach to power.
Then there's the Prince of Peace. Of course, I'm talking about Augustus Caesar. Wait, you didn't think of him first? That's a part of what the victory of Christmas is all about: that we remember Jesus, not Caesar as "Prince of Peace."
Because for a ruler of Rome, that was a goal and aspiration: to be known as the source and vessel of the Pax Romana, along with the titles that being descended from Julius Caesar already got you, honorifics like "King of Kings," "Savior of the World," and yes, "Son of God." The Divine Julius was hailed after his 44 BC death in the Roman Senate at the hands of his peers, when a comet crossed the sky and his adopted son Octavian, soon to be renamed Augustus, declared that his father had been assumed into the heavens just as he had been adopted into the Caesar family. And if your father is divine, then it only stands to reason that you can be called "Son of God."
But what Augustus really craved was the acclamation of a now cowed Senate as "Prince of Peace." While some provincial inscriptions called him that, it's not clear the Roman Senate ever did.
We do, though. Well, not him. But we have just finished a season of adjusting our political and civic and cosmic understandings about whom God has sent, and for what reason. And many of us are still singing about a Prince of Peace who is not in any earthly palace, or buried in any royal tomb.
But what Augustus really craved was the acclamation of a now cowed Senate as "Prince of Peace." While some provincial inscriptions called him that, it's not clear the Roman Senate ever did.
We do, though. Well, not him. But we have just finished a season of adjusting our political and civic and cosmic understandings about whom God has sent, and for what reason. And many of us are still singing about a Prince of Peace who is not in any earthly palace, or buried in any royal tomb.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's still in Christmas mode. Tell him about your Christmastide thoughts at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
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