Disarmed by the Cross

Disarmed by the Cross--March 16, 2018

"God made you alive together with [Christ], when he forgave us all our trespasses, erasing the record that stood against us with its legal demands. He set this aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it." [Colossians 2:13b-15]

When the Empire was being "kind" to you, they just took your head.

When the Empire was mad at you and wanted to send a message, they crucified you.  

Crucifixion wasn't just a means of capital punishment--it was torture, too, and for the Romans that meant it was also intended as a deterrent to other would-be rabble-rousers, brigands, and rebels.  For respectable citizens of the Empire who had been found guilty of capital crimes, beheading was a more merciful way to die--quick and, at least by comparison, less humiliating.  But for those whose crimes were seen as especially dangerous to Rome's rule--those who were seen as threats to imperial security or were subversive of the imperial way of life--they got the nails and wooden beams ready.  It was public, it was horrific, and it dragged on--all of which served Rome's public-relations interests by sending the message, "Fall in line--or else THIS will happen to you."

That is to say, from Rome's perspective, a cross was a way of making an example of someone.

Funny then, that the New Testament said the exact same thing in reverse:  the cross of Jesus was God's way of making an example of them!  In case you missed the reference there in the verses above, the "it" when the text says that Christ "disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it" is the cross, the same cross to which all of our permanent records  and lists of infractions have been nailed (we looked at that yesterday).  So, yes, then, the very cross that the Empire looks at and says, "We made an example of that Jesus!  He was trouble, and we got rid of him!  So there! That should make other people afraid of breaking the rules now!" is the same cross that a guy like Paul the apostle can look at and say, "Jesus made an example of the Empire here!  He exposed how bankrupt and fearful they really are, being willing to use such cruelty and intimidation to get people to fall in line!  And look--Jesus rose!  He came back to life--Rome did its worst, and they couldn't get rid of him! That should free everyone from being ruled by fear of the Empire!"

It's the same exact event in history, but read in two totally different ways, with two totally different perspectives on the world underlying them.  You either look at the cross and say, "This is power: crushing your enemies with pain! This is greatness: making everybody else afraid to step out of line because you are the one holding the hammer!" or you say the opposite: "This is power: exposing the hollow husk of the so-called 'rulers' of the day by not being afraid of their bluster, even at the cost of your life!  This is greatness: laying down your life, even for the ones who are holding the hammer!"  But you don't get to choose both.  The cross forces us to look at ourselves honestly and ask which we way we will read it.

And to be honest, I don't think that we--even we church-attending, hymn-singing churchgoers--have always chosen rightly in that dilemma... or at least not faithfully.  We are much more inclined to pick the Empire's way of seeing the world, and then trying to find some way to shoehorn Christ into that.  Sometimes we say things like, "He came meek and mild the first time... but when Jesus comes again, all that "Father, forgive them..." stuff will be done. He's coming to punish and destroy!"  by garbling a handful of Bible verses and cobbling them together into a more respectable, more intimidating messiah than Jesus actually is.  Sometimes we cheer for Roman-like cruelty and fear, as though the real problem in our day and age were that we were not violent enough.  Sometimes we slide into the "Let's make an example of 'em!" kind of bloodthirstiness that led Rome to crucify those it labeled as threats to imperial security.  Sometimes we catch ourselves advocating torture for our enemies, thinking that our enemies really deserve it... and forgetting that the one we say we believe in as Lord was tortured and then shamefully "made a public example of" by the powers of his day.  Sometimes we do not catch just how much we have bought into Rome's way of seeing the world--we have just slapped a "Christian flag" (which was already a recently made-up invention that always looked suspiciously patterned after the American flag, to the chagrin of most of the world's Christians) on top of the Roman eagle and figured they were compatible symbols.  

They are not.

We forget that Rome thought it was the hero of the story, too--that the Empire was the guardian of all right and goodness, all law and order, all security and peace (that was their literal motto, "Pax et securitas"), and that it was dangerous troublemakers like the rabbi from Nazareth who was the villain.  We forget that Rome was convinced that any means necessary to preserve that "security" and "peace" (which, for Rome, were always generated by war somewhere else in the empire) were justified because they were the "good guys" and the would-be messiahs were the "bad guys" needing to be made an example of.  From the Empire's vantage point, that willingness to do "whatever was necessary," no matter how violent or self-serving, were what made it great and powerful.

But these verses from Colossians compel us to see that we don't get to both confess Jesus as Lord and then accept the Empire's definitions of "power" and "greatness."  Either Jesus is the one "made an example of" as he is stripped naked and strung up by almighty Rome, or Jesus is the one making an example of Rome by bravely insisting that the emperor is wearing no clothes while he dies for them on of their crosses.  But you don't get to have both.  Power is either in the willingness to inflict unspeakable violence and cruelty on others who get in your way and defy your decrees, or power is in the willingness to bear such hate and to respond with resurrection and love. 

But it is not both.

Which way will we see things today? Is Rome the real "power" because it has hammers and nails, whips and weapons, to coerce the rabble and crucify rabbis?  Or is true power in the hands of the unarmed Christ who "disarmed the rulers and authorities" by that very same cross, exposing like Dorothy in Oz that there was nothing but a feeble man pulling levers behind the curtain, after all the bluster and fireworks?  It makes a difference which we choose to see the world through.

The question on this day, then, is what we will choose--whose definition of power will we accept? What do we think will make us great?  

And who, exactly, is making an example of whom?

Lord Jesus, your kind of power baffles us, and your kind of greatness takes our old expectations and turns them upside down.   Grant us to see that you have made an example of all the world's would-be powers and authorities, exposing their emptiness in the light of your strong love.