Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Briarcliff, Croton, and Ossining

Jesus — His Teachings, His Death, His Passion and Unitarian Universalists

Given by James Covington on April 11th, 2004

I did not see Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion of the Christ. If I had had the time to see it, I probably would have, not because I really wanted to, but that I might have more credibility in speaking about Gibson’s Passion today. Alas, that was not to be. But in a way I feel I have seen the movie. My son and a couple of friends who have seen the movie have shared their own points of view about it. In addition I have read numerous essays, editorials, and critiques of the movie. So I am speaking about it anyway, based on what I’ve heard and read. Why? Because, like it or not, this movie has become a major issue in contemporary culture. And I believe Unitarian Universalists must be part of the conversation about it, even if this film is not our cup of theological tea.

I did write about my point of view in the March Newsletter. If you read it, you will remember that I wrote that the crucifixion of Jesus had nothing to do with ethnicity or race. The crucifixion had to do with punishing and executing a figure by religious and political authorities who felt threatened by this teacher who happened to be Jewish. The Jewish hierarchy was threatened by a small-town carpenter turned teacher who dared to drive the money-changers out of the Temple and who publicly challenged the teachings of the Torah.

The Romans were always sensitive to possible uprisings by insurgents, hence, wary of any popular figure who might claim to be the Christ, as was often the case. Jesus was not the only man who claimed to be the Christ. And crucifixions were common.

In a sense, the Passion narrative reveals yet another struggle of humanity against oppressive authority in the name of freedom: the freedom to think, interpret, change and challenge the status quo. Both Easter and Passover are human stories that represent the undying desire for freedom nurtured by justice and compassion.

Through his life and mainly his teachings, Jesus was able to effect for all time, the way many people think about our relationship to one another and the meaning and purpose of our lives. In that sense, Easter is about freedom and the capacity of human beings to overcome oppression, suffering, even death itself to live more freely and responsibly with their neighbors. That’s the good part of the story. The bad part of the story is that so much death and destruction have been wrought in the name of the Prince of Peace.

Passover, which we have also been celebrating this week, is akin to the same theme. The Israeli people were finally freed from Pharaoh’s oppression and allowed to go free. They were led by Moses, who believed in one God, who held a monotheistic faith, unfathomed by the Egyptians who believed in many gods. Both Easter and Passover are human stories which represent the undying desire for freedom nurtured by justice and compassion.

But back to the movie. How allegiant is Gibson to the Gospels—the New Testament books of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John? Bishop Shelby Spong, that radical Episcopalian, in a new forthcoming book reminds us that the story of the passion of Jesus is not remembered history. The narratives were written 40 to 80 years after Jesus’ death based in part on oral history, which as we know can be significantly embellished over time, as is always the case when it comes to memory. And the gospel narratives were written to a large degree from Hebrew Scriptures. The gospels are Jewish books shaped by the Jewish Scriptures prior to Jesus’ time. The gospels were written not only to preserve the teachings of Jesus but also to create some liturgical meaning of Jesus’ death by the early church. For example Jesus is portrayed as the Lamb of God, an idea rooted in the age-old Jewish ritual of sacrificing a lamb at the altar of god for the remission of sins.

The famous cry of Jesus at his death, “Father, why have you forsaken me?” is taken directly out of Psalms 22. Traditionally, that quote by Jesus is interpreted to mean that Jesus quoted it deliberately to fulfill the scriptures, proving he was indeed the Son of God. But since the scriptures themselves tell us that all the disciples had abandoned Jesus, who was around to know what Jesus said? As someone has said: Gibson has conflated these four gospels into a pseudo-historical “you are there” film.

From what I can tell, the movie distorts a couple of facts about the death of Jesus. There is apparently far more attention given to the role of Mary in Jesus’ life than is actually recorded in the gospels. The scourging scene in the movie I understand is long, protracted and grotesque and completely over the top. While a crucifixion is no doubt a hideous way to die, the scriptures themselves pay little attention to the gore itself. Gibson claims that he has “followed faithfully the texts of the Gospels.” Apparently, that is not so and in fact it appears that Gibson interprets Jesus’ death from a medieval lens. He apparently relied heavily on the writings of a 19th century nun who claimed to have visions of the crucifixion in which she explicitly blames the Jews for Jesus’ death. He invents speeches that appear nowhere in the Bible. Of course, he is exercising poetic license but he claims to follow the Bible exactly.

Was it anti-Semitic? The answers are mixed. It portrayed Jews in at best an unflattering manner, and at worst as Christ-killers. Gibson has the Jewish temple guards beat Jesus as they bring him from the Garden of Gethsemane to the high priests, but that is not in the Gospels.

Gibson, under criticism from the Jewish community, dropped from the subtitles the infamous “blood oath” of the high priests and the people which has been used by Christians for centuries as a pretext for persecuting Jews: “His blood be on us and on our children.” But while Gibson had dropped that text from the English subtitles, in the sound track the Jewish high priests still spoke those words in Aramaic.

What is my take on the movie itself, having not seen it? And how to UU’S generally think about the life and death of Jesus? Whatever its faults, Gibson has given us a “teachable moment” when we can probe both the beautiful and the ugly side of religion. Focused almost entirely on the trial and crucifixion, there was no real historical context for what happened. Israel was under Roman political control, ready to pounce on any hint of insurrection. The Jews were expecting a Messiah, but there were many versions of that expectation. This is not a wholistic Jesus. There was little hint of Jesus’ moral and spiritual teachings, as if that were inconsequential. As one writer put it: Gibson’s theology is “shock and awe” theology. Gibson assumes the greater the suffering, the deeper the wounds, the greater God’s love for humanity.

What about the theology on which Gibson based this film? Evangelical Christianity holds that Jesus died for our sins – meaning the sins of all humankind – past, present and future. This view is based on the atonement rituals of the Hebrew scriptures with their rites to restore proper relationship with God. Hence, Jesus is often portrayed as the Lamb of God. For Gibson this unrelenting violence and the courageous suffering of Jesus are meant to demonstrate how great was his sacrifice in atoning for our sins. No doubt those who believe in this doctrine were moved.

This doctrine of atonement has always baffled me. I do not believe we are born in sin and in need of salvation. The atonement theory is theologically and humanly incomprehensible to me. Rejection of that orthodox Christian doctrine is at the historical heart of our movement. Unitarians early declared the inherent dignity of the human being, while Universalists championed a God of love who saved all people – universal salvation.

Universalist theologian Hosea Ballou’s Treatise on the Atonement in 1805 rejected the doctrine of the Trinity and contended we are saved, not because of Jesus’ death on the cross, but because of the life that he lived, a model for us. Even this doctrine is somewhat outdated, but it does stand in the Unitarian and Universalist historical tradition that it is the life and teachings of Jesus, more than his crucifixion and resurrection, that are central for Unitarian Universalists.

For Gibson, evidently the meaning of Jesus is his death, not his life. And if all that mattered was his death, why did he spend all that time teaching and preaching?

There is little that makes us sympathize with Gibson’s Jesus; instead we pity him for the cruel and unusual punishment to which he is subjected. We learn nothing about his ministry, nothing about the parables or his gentle ways, nothing, in short, that helps us identify with him. The film has a great deal of passion, but there is not much of love in it.

How do Unitarian Universalists understand Jesus? If all we received from the life of Jesus was the Parable of the Good Samaritan, that would be enough to mark him one of the prophets of the human spirit. This parable is not simply about the kindness of one compassionate human being to another suffering human being. The Samaritan was from a people hated by Jews. He was not only stranger, but also enemy. When the religious leaders of the culture – the Pharisee and the Levite – pass by on the other side of the road, that is an indictment of religious hypocrisy. That a Samaritan stops to help is a reminder of our common humanity. It humanizes one who was the enemy. That radical teaching alone is enough to empty the room of false piety.

And so I fear that the “gospel according to Gibson” completely distorts the meaning of Jesus for me. Yes, I grew up a born again Christian. But I grew up on a Jesus who was gentle, loving and compassionate. I knew he died tragically and cruelly with forgiveness of his enemies, but that was not his totality. Over the years I have come to understand him as “the man for others”—a human being who preached justice and compassion and was willing to give his life for his beliefs.

And what were those beliefs? “How do we get to Heaven, Rabbi?” his disciples once asked him.

Jesus’ answer is remarkable. Not a word about theology. Nothing about belief in God, or dogmas or creeds. “Feed the hungry,” he replies. “Clothe the naked, house the homeless, heal the sick, visit those who are in prison,” Jesus replied.

When they ask him about keeping the commandments, Jesus, who more than once broke the letter of the law to serve its spirit, says to them: “Follow the two great commandments, which sum up all the law and the prophets: Love God with all your heart, mind and soul and love your neighbor as yourself.”

“Who is my neighbor?” they ask.

“Whoever needs your love is your neighbor,” he replies by way of the parable of the Good Samaritan. “You must therefore love your enemy as well.”

“But, how do we get to Heaven,” they ask again, for salvation, not their neighbor, is foremost on their mind.

“Don’t say, ‘Lo, here,” or ‘Lo, there,’ for the Kingdom of Heaven is in the very midst of you,” Jesus reminds them surely for the thousandth time. “For heaven is where the heart is.” According to Jesus, we enter Heaven not when we die but as we live, through the Gates of Love.

And so now, we come to the Easter part of the story. Where in this drama is the bridge from one life to the next? Jesus crosses it when he says in the story given to us: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” For a moment in his agony, he thinks not about himself, but about others, and God is with him. The bridge is Love. Love before death. Love after death.

To me the ultimate meaning of Easter is love after death, not life after death. Jesus really dies. And then he lives again, reborn, made new, not in his earthy body but in divine form, free of all exigencies, eternal, immortal. It is the universal story of love after death. The story begins in the scriptures themselves and in the teachings of Jesus, as I have made account of them. Jesus lives on in Simon Peter’s heart. And then in the mind of Doubting Thomas. And then his teachings really inspire Paul and turn his life around. And Paul had never met Jesus in the flesh.

Let me say now, I don’t take the resurrection story literally. Taken literally, the gospel narrative is almost crude, a cheap magic trick that has been kept alive by slight of hand and human credulity for two millennia. Yet, taken to heart, it can inspire even those of us who will never be able to sign our names on a doctrinal dotted line. God is love. Or you could say, love is God. Think about that one simple sentence. Try not to react to the word God. Love is God. And love is where the heart is. Meaning simply—as a fallen, once prideful poet wrote—”What we love remains, the rest is dross.” (Ezra Pound)

Someone said, “Don’t judge a life until it’s over. And then, judge it by love’s remains.” That means that things that once mattered more than they should have–all those illusions by which the world measures success–will, like blinders, fall away from before our eyes until we finally see clearly the tears of our loved ones and their gentle smiles. That is true redemption, life’s equation transfigured, our losses adjusted for, the balance sheet recalculated, failure forgiven, love the answer. When the end comes (and even before) we can then let go for dear life, knowing that we loved and were loved in turn, knowing that everything is well and shall be well. Don’t judge a person’s life until it’s over.

In their section entitled “A Nation Challenged,” the New York Times published 1800 obituaries of men and women who died on 9/11. These were ordinary people, their lives both as alike and as unique as fingerprints. In our heightened appreciation for life’s preciousness and fragility, reading these obituaries we pondered our own. And what stood out? Not worldly success. Not the list of noted accomplishments that appear to give weight to more famous people’s lives. In almost every instance, what stood out was love given and received.

Firefighter Michael Cammarata, left a letter of instructions for his brother to be opened in case of death. “No 1 on the list: ‘Take care of Jenna,’ (referring to his girlfriend of seven years.’ No. 2: ‘Don’t mourn me. This is the career I chose.’ No. 3: ‘Make my spirit live on.’” In a memorial service for his two brothers, Keith and Scott, Todd Coleman said, “I will try to live my life in a manner that will be worthy of their respect and admiration. . . Their memory reminds me that the world can be a wonderful place.” On the day he was to die, George E. Spencer left a note for his wife on their kitchen counter: “Stop being critical of yourself,” it said. “Enjoy life. Today is another day. Chance to live a little.”

This week I listened to the buddy of one of our young soldiers killed in Iraq, say, “I loved that guy and he loved me. I’m very shy, you see. I find it difficult to be with people, but he made me feel important. I loved him, still do. He made me feel important.”

Love after death.

This is why we celebrate Easter. It’s really very simple. We celebrate Easter to remind ourselves of everything that matters. Whatever happens to us after we die, life doesn’t end in oblivion. It continues in love, our own love, once given, everlasting. Read an obituary unadorned by pretense and your eyes will tell you what your heart already knows.

After death our bodies may be resurrected. Our souls may transmigrate or become part of the heavenly being. We may join our loved ones in Heaven. Or we may return the constituent parts of our being to the earth from which it came and rest in eternal peace. Or we may be reincarnated. About life after death, no one knows. But about love after death, we surely know. I learned this from my own parents, as they did from their parents. I learned this from my close friend, Mack, when he died when we were 33 years old. I’ve learned it from so many others. I learn it also from each of you. I learn it from my wife everyday. The one thing that can never be taken from this world, even by death, is the love we have given away before we die.

This, to me, is the truest and deepest passion one can have: to love one another.

For love, I swear it, is immortal.