"For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." [2 Corinthians 5:21]
There's this great line toward the beginning of Christopher Nolan's second Batman movie, The Dark Knight, where D.A. Harvey Dent says, "You either die the hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."
For fans of Batman stories, the scene is delightfully fraught with foreshadowing, since comic book fans all know that Harvey Dent (played in the movie by Aaron Eckhart) is the noble law-enforcing "white knight" district attorney of Gotham City who ends up becoming the villainous Two-Face by the end of the movie. And (spoiler alert!) the line comes back in the movie's climactic finish when Batman himself takes the blame for two deaths that Harvey/Two-Face caused, because he knows that he can take the hatred of the public, and he can bear the pursuit of the police. Batman (played by Christian Bale) has to run, because the police have to chase someone... so he is willing to be taken for the bad guy--to become the villain--even though he hasn't done anything wrong. He just absorbs the bloodthirstiness of the public that needs to see someone labeled as "the bad guy."
And so off goes Batman, into the night, willing to bear all the blame the crowds of Gotham can throw at him, so that he can live another day to protect those same people who will all make the Batman into Public Enemy #1.
There is something important about that scene--something very much to do with the Christian gospel, even if Christopher Nolan and Christian Bale had no intention of making a cinematic theological treatise. It is a reminder that sometimes--maybe more often than we care to admit--genuine good is willing to take the label, and the blame that comes with it, of being called the villain. In fact, sometimes that is precisely what is so deeply good about the truly heroic is that they don't need the crowds to recognize them as heroes or "good guys," but in fact are ok with being labeled as "bad guys." It's the Lex Luthors, the Penguins, and the Kingpins of the world who all want the people to fawn over them and stroke their egos; watch out for them--real villains have a way of wanting to try on white hats. (It's why, in the comics, all three of those villains, Kingpin, Luthor, and Penguin run for public office--and win.) But sometimes real "good guys" are willing to get lumped in with all the "bad guys" and absorb all the hate and spite that the crowds need to lob at... somebody.
And that, according to Paul the apostle, is exactly what the cross is all about. It is the point in human history in which Jesus pulls off both sides of Harvey Dent's Dilemma at the same time: he dies, and he lets himself become the villain. Jesus is the hero--the One who saves the day, but he does it precisely by taking all of our villainy into himself. Paul's way of saying it in these words many of us heard read on Ash Wednesday is that God "made him to be sin who knew no sin." Jesus doesn't just lay down his life while everyone applauds, recognizing that he's a really a decent, stand-up guy. He doesn't get to ride off into the sunset like Shane, with all the homesteaders knowing he fought the gunslinger Wilson to bring peace to the valley. Jesus dies as the villain. He gets saddled with our sin--Paul's language is even more stark: Jesus becomes our sin. He gets the worst of both sides of Harvey Dent's/Two-Face's choice--the one who dies in our place and is hated for it.
This is actually a really important idea in the New Testament--that the story of the gospel is not merely that Jesus saves the world while we all nod our heads in thanks and lift Jesus up on our shoulders like he's the quarterback who just threw the winning touchdown. The Gospel says that Jesus was willing to be labeled by both the political and religious "good guys" as a troublemaker, and was hated by the crowds who aimed their spite and hatred at him. He dies bearing our sin, our villainy, our ugliness. It is, by comparison, easy to get to die the hero, going down in a blaze of glory--at least then you know they'll erect a statue of you, and maybe even given you your own holiday or a ticker-tape parade in memoriam. But dying as the villain--and knowing that the "good guys" of the world will think they are doing everybody a favor by getting rid of you--that's tough. It is a thankless, difficult, painful way of saving the world--but that is Jesus' way.
All of this is a reminder, perhaps, for us, that from the Christian point of view, all of the world's talk about "good guys" and "bad guys" is woefully oversimplified. There aren't simply black hats and white hats--or, perhaps even more haunting to realize: at the cross, it's the government and the religious leaders, wearing their "good guy" white hats, who order Jesus crucified, and it's Jesus, nailed to a cross, who is forced to wear a black hat along with the crown of thorns. Maybe more often than we realize, real heroes don't need to make everybody "like" them, call them "great" or "winners," or get the crowds to stroke their egos for saving the day--they are willing to give themselves away even while the world casts them as the bad guys in black hats. That's especially true in the Christian story, which doesn't divide the world into black hatted "bad guys" who need to be rounded up and gotten rid off by the white hat wearing "good guys." Rather, in the Gospel, the One truly Good Guy embodies his goodness by letting a black hat be put on his head for the sake of all of us--a world full of "bad guys", which is to say, sinners. We aren't the ones living quietly in the valley hoping Shane will come and outdraw the gunslinger--we are the ones shouting "Crucify! Crucify!" with the blessing of the Respectable Religious Crowd and the Guardians of Law and Order.
To hear the Gospel tell it, there are no "good guys" out there but One--and he donned a "bad guy" label for our sake at the cross because all of us are "bad guys" too, guilty of rottenness and crookedness. But instead of zapping or shooting us, Jesus' way of dealing with our villainy is to take our place, absorb our sin, and die for us, taking all of our sin into the grave with him.
That's what the message of the cross is, and that's the news we are given to tell to others.
You either die the hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain, according to Harvey Dent. The Christian claim all along has been that at the cross Jesus did both at the same time... "so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." Thanks be to God for Jesus.
Lord Jesus, give us the vision to see your cross as your saving the day, your weakness as a gift of true strength, and your willingness to take our place and absorb our bitter spite into yourself as your power.
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