The Jesus I Know
Given by James Covington on December 11th, 2005
A particular congregation had great affection for their parish priest, Father John. Even the children adored him. There was only one thing wrong: his sermons were terrible! They were long and rambling. He seemed to forget what the point was. No one knew what he was talking about. A committee from the congregation went to see the Bishop. They told him that the only thing they didn’t like about Father John was his rambling, incoherent sermons. They asked him to give Father John some good advice on writing sermons.
The Bishop called Father John to come and see him. The Bishop said, “Look here, John. It is really important to get the attention of the people. Begin by telling them something about yourself. For example, I once told my congregation that I was in love with a woman. I thought about that woman day and night. I dreamed about that woman. I prayed about that woman. They were really listening! I told them that the woman was the Virgin Mary. And then I told them what she meant to me. Do you see what I mean?” Father John said that he did and that he’d try it.
The next Sunday, Father John began his sermon. He said, “The Bishop is in love with a woman. He thinks about her day and night. But I can’t for the life of me remember her name!
This funny story reminded me as I was gathering my thoughts for today’s sermon, of a sermon I preached when I was about 18 years old. I was both surprised and amused by my sudden recollection. I preached at a lot of youth revivals when I was young, and of course, being a Southern Baptist, the topic of most of my sermons was born again salvation through faith in Jesus Christ. I began the sermon by saying something like this: “I would like to introduce you today to a very dear friend of mine. He is always there for me. I’ve known him since I was a child. He loves me more than anyone I know. He stands by me. He gives me strength when I am weak, forgives me when I fail. In fact, as always, he is standing here by my side right now. But you can’t see him. You see, he is with me in spirit. His name is Jesus. He lives in my heart. I want to tell you about him today—the Jesus I know and love and who loves me.” Then I went on to preach about the Jesus who I believed died for my sins. Well, everybody was certainly listening by then. Just as you are now.
Coincidentally, a friend of mine who served as the youth music director and was sitting on the platform with me, assumed I was talking about him and was on the edge of his seat with an embarrassed smile, getting ready to stand up when I introduced him. Of course, when I didn’t, he was even more embarrassed.
When I was a child, we often sang a tune, Jesus Loves Me: Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Yes Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so.
I grew up on this little song. Perhaps some of you did also. It was an innocent refrain, a reassuring thought to small children. It portrays Jesus as a loving person.
That was the Jesus I knew as I child and looking back I can see it made a great impression on me. There is something powerful in the symbolism of someone larger than life or someone divine, who loves you and calls you to love your neighbor the same way and do good in the world. The powerful simplicity of that message was lost somewhat in the trappings of religious creeds and formulas—like the virgin birth and the dogma of salvation through faith in Jesus alone, the prospect of heaven and hell. If I believed in Jesus and accepted him as my savior, then my sins would be forgiven and I would live forever. In time, however, as I came to know about the historical Jesus, this salvation plan lost its appeal.
In the Christian tradition this is the time of Advent, preparing ourselves for the birth of something sacred. And of course, the overwhelming emphasis of Christmas is on the miraculous birth of Jesus to a virgin – mistranslated from the word that really means “young maiden.” It is a nostalgic legend, not a historical fact, which joyously celebrates the coming of new life into the world, in the person of a child named Jesus. So I thought it appropriate for me to speak about Jesus today, but not his birth so much as his life. While we make much of his birth in this festive time of year, I believe it was his life and teachings, not his birth, that matters most.
One of the most asked religious questions of our time is that on the WWJD T-shirts worn by many evangelical youth in our time: “What would Jesus do?” as if asking that question might provide a simple answer. Of course, we cannot really know what he would say or do, for Jesus lived in a first century agrarian society, while we live in a 21st century post-industrial culture. He taught primarily an inner spirituality and a personal ethic. He was not really a social ethicist, nor did he aspire to political power. It is dangerous for anyone of any theological or ethical or political persuasion, conservative or liberal, to presume to know what Jesus would do.
Nowadays, of course, Jesus is at the heart of booming radio/TV ministries; he is at the center of the vast Christian church hierarchy; he is even at the core of political campaigns, presuming to uniquely bless certain candidates. Were he to come for lunch with the National Security Council or the Council of Economic Advisors, or the Pope or the President, or even me, surely he would be amazed. It is not clear if he would be pleased or not. I have my doubts, but then, I don’t presume to know.
The fact is, Jesus of Nazareth, the man, knew nothing of the creeds – Nicene or Apostles or Athanasian or Westminster. Modern scholars (the Jesus Seminar) tell us that Jesus did not intend to establish a new religion. He knew nothing of vicarious atonement or salvation or any of the terms now bandied about by Christian theologians. He would have been astounded at the ecclesiastical structures assembled over the centuries in his name. Jesus wouldn’t have a clue about what it meant to be born again in Christ. Jesus’ message was not about believing in him. All this was superimposed upon his life and work, extracted by theological mining of considerable imagination, grown out of the way his successors experienced him.
I cannot know for sure, but I can guess that he might not find it pleasing, so at odds is it with what I perceive as his basic gospel: do unto others as you would have others do unto you. And while many have been put to death for creedal deviation and challenging the church hierarchy, we know of no church body which has executed anyone for having failed to live up to the Golden Rule.
But what is he to us – to wary Unitarian Universalists? After all, our origins are rooted in the teachings of Jesus. Today, many of us are rebels from a Christian faith that was too restrictive, especially to those of you who grew up in the Catholic tradition or come from “born-again” evangelicalism as I do. And what does the historical Jesus mean to you who are atheists and agnostics and Buddhists and Jews? No doubt, we all have our own opinions about Jesus, some well informed, some not. So I speak this morning for myself as I talk about the Jesus I know.
I tend to take Jesus as he was – a first century teacher and prophet who went about doing good. I realize that is not quite as exciting as the “born-again” experience, but might it not be at least as powerful?
I was brought up on the religion ABOUT Jesus. The religion of Jesus, which I believe I always knew in my heart– his teachings as he walked the roads of ancient Israel – quickly became the religion about Jesus – salvation by his death on the cross, the development of the Trinity and the creeds of Christendom. The religion of the Jesus I know, has more to do with the Sermon on the Mount than the virgin birth; more to do with the Golden Rule than with salvation of the soul; more to do with the Parable of the Good Samaritan than the Resurrection.
Dietrich Bonhoffer described Jesus as the “man for others.”
I’m rather like the elderly Unitarian Universalist, who said to her son-in-law, an Episcopalian and a professor at Yale, “I’m not so sure about the deity of your Lord, but I do support his program.” And what was that program? Listen to what Jesus presumably said in the Sermon on the Mount:
“Blessed are you poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God.
Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be filled.
Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh.
But woe unto you that are rich, for you have received your consolation.
Woe unto you that are full, for you shall hunger.
Woe unto you who laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep.
But I say unto you which hear: love your enemies, do good to them which hate you,
Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.
And to those smite you on the one cheek offer also the other;
And those that take away your cloak forbid not to take your coat also.
And as you would that people should do to you, do you also to them likewise.”
Try to carry out this program – the Golden Rule, the Parable of the Good Samaritan or his words about loving and forgiving our enemies at the War Room in the Pentagon, or in the board rooms on Wall Street, or in union halls, or even within the relational communications of this congregation, or in our own families, and imagine the reaction.
I do not suggest Jesus as the model for today’s decisions about war and peace, race relations or the economy, vocational choices or how we use our money. “What would Jesus do?” is probably not the test I would use in everyday decision-making. I am inclined to doubt it really factors in the decision-making of many who so publicly claim how much he has influenced their lives. I don’t believe he is the solution to all of life’s problems.
I don’t invoke Jesus much in sermons, but there he is in the background with his parable of the Good Samaritan – the hated foreigner; his invitation to turn the other cheek, to love one’s enemies; to be wary of wealth; to minister to the downtrodden – none of which I do very well at all. His presence is more haunting than real, perhaps.
In fact, his almost subliminal presence in my life provides what Mark Twain called “the annoyance of a good example.” He mingled with the poor far more than do I, who presumes to be one of their champions. He turned the other cheek, while I assail those who criticize me. He warned against concern for piling up wealth which moths can destroy, while I worry about my retirement stock portfolio. He turned over the tables of the money-changers in the temple, while I fret over whether my sermons on justice will make some parishioners mad. He had the courage to walk the talk all the way to Golgotha, while I calculate how I can be prophetic and not be hurt.
No, Jesus for me is not the kindly big brother of the song I learned in childhood. But he does annoy me, challenging my complacency, disrupting my conventional wisdom, disturbing my liberal dogmas.
One of the things Jesus talked a lot about is what he called the kingdom of God. He taught that this kingdom exists right now. This kingdom exists now and here. But, the kingdom of God for Jesus is not something in heaven that we attain after death. Remember the language of the Bible is that of a 1st century agrarian society. As Joseph Campbell reminded us, religious language is mythological language—often conveying deeper meaning. According to Jesus, the kingdom already exists within us. It begins with a personal transformation, with an experience of being loved and loving, with a realization of what is possible in life and what truly matters. God is a loving relationship to be experienced.
In the religion of Jesus I know, compassion is central. The idea, or feeling, he attempts to convey is a deep connection, an empathy, a caring, an abiding love that enables us to rise above petty differences. Compassion is a feeling deep inside, a feeling of loving connection, not only with those close by, but with the essence of life and creation. Experiencing this feeling and then acting upon it is what matters, not obeying rules. Jesus had little use for the rules of religion – rules about keeping the Sabbath, rules about what to eat, and so forth. Religion so easily descends into a lot of rules about how to be holy. For Jesus, holiness was to found in relationship and compassionate deeds, not creeds. This was revolutionary. It still is.
But the Jesus I know was also a social prophet in that he criticized the elites, religious, economic and political. For Jesus there was no distinction between the mystical experience of love and acting in the social world. He challenged the establishment both religious and political. Would anyone who turned over the money-changers tables in the temple have had anything nice to say about today’s televangelists? I don’t think so. And what about those who pride themselves for saving the taxpayers’ money by slashing social programs. Not Jesus. He had no use for pride, and always came down on the side of the dispossessed and downtrodden, even tax collectors!
In fact, Jesus tells his disciples at one point, that when we die there is a quiz. The questions, are not “Who is the second person in the trinity?,” “Should women be allowed to be priests?” or “During your lifetime were you sufficiently militant in your abhorrence of high taxes, homosexuality, stem-cell research, and abortion?” No the questions will be these: “Did you feed the hungry; clothe the naked; heal the sick; and visit those in prison?” Get them correct, Jesus says, and we go to heaven. He said, “if you have done these things to the very least of these our brothers and sisters, you have done them to me.”
He wasn’t quoting the letter of the Bible. He was drawing from its spirit. Listen, the Bible can be quoted by anyone for his or her own purposes. In its pages, there are passing references to the evils of everything from women to shellfish. But Jesus drew a sharp distinction between transient and permanent teachings contained in the scriptures. When brought before the religious authorities and charged with breaking sacred laws, Jesus summed up the Hebrew scriptures in two great commandments, which override all lesser particulars: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your might. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. “On these two commandments,” he said, “depend all the law and the prophets.” Here Jesus follows in the spirit of the great Rabbi Hillel, who wrote, “What is hateful to you, do not to your neighbor. That is the Torah. All the rest is commentary.”
The religion of the Jesus I know is pretty simple. The religion of the Jesus I know is about compassion. The religion of the Jesus I know is about experiencing the transforming power of compassion that always lies dormant in the human heart. The religion of Jesus is about here and now. The religion of Jesus is about a vision of human relationships that are based on love – relationships of community, nurture, peace, acceptance, sharing. The religion of Jesus is about letting the power of love guide our lives, about acting in the world to make compassion, acceptance and peace a reality for everyone. This is the Jesus I know.
It may not be the Jesus you know. You may not be interested. There may be other teachers and prophets you prefer to emulate—Mahatma Ghandi, Buddha, Dalai Lama, Dorothea Dix, Mother Theresa or a collage or many. Doesn’t matter, so long as you find the greater source within the human heart calling you to live a compassionate life.
Nevertheless, the Jesus I introduced from the pulpit when I was 18 still abides with me, but not to save me from eternal damnation. The Jesus I know represents for me a human behavior that is both possible and necessary, if we are to save ourselves, our earth and the gift of life itself.