#relevant
Don’t tell me what to do!
One thing that makes religion so irrelevant today is its tendency–even purpose–to tell people what to do. Once people probably needed that sort of authority and welcomed the opportunity to be obedient. Maybe there are some even today who don’t mind being sheep. But isn’t it time to grow up, take responsibility for our own lives and get rid of this superstitious crutch of religion?
Before you give up on religion, let me offer what seems to be Jesus’ most irrelevant phrase. In what seems to be a way out of responsibility and relevancy turns out to be the key to seeing how letting someone else tell you what to do might actually be the best way to make sense of the world.
“My Kingdom of not of this world.”
What could be more irrelevant, more pie-in-the-sky than that?
Jesus speaks these words to Pilate, the Roman governor. These words apparently attempt to to reassure Pilate. Jesus means no harm–he’s just a religious guru offering comforting words about life after death. No revolutionary–in fact, Jesus could be just the opposite, an accomplice in keeping the people in their place and obedient to Rome. Why fret about political freedom and rights, when there’s a better world to come? Here is religion as the opiate of the people, long before Marx came up with the phrase.
“My Kingdom is not of this world.”
These words don’t reassure Pilate, maybe because Pilate is not a fool, maybe because Pilate is playing it safe, but no matter because Pilate is right. Jesus is a threat because Jesus presents an alternative, a world Pilate has not imagined and cannot control.
Pilate, you see, runs his world. Backed up by Roman legions, he rules through fear and a lot of violence. He manipulates the rich as collaborators and intimidates the poor, making sure to keep the divisions real and prejudices strong. Pilate’s world is violent but orderly. Everyone knows where they belong, and everything just works best if everyone just stays put.
Pilate is long gone, but his world remains. Fear, violence, division, prejudice–we know a lot about living in Pilate’s world. We know how to build the walls, lock the doors and protect what is ours. Of course we have sympathy for those outside–who would not? But it’s us or them, we have no choice, at least that’s what Pilate and his successors believe.
The weapons of Jesus’ Kingdom aren’t the ones found in Pilate’s. Where Pilate rules by division and intimidation, Jesus offers love and belonging. Pilate promises safety for those on the inside and security for those who can buy it. Jesus offers life for all. Pilate’s world is all about boundaries. There are people who are in and those who are out. Some deserve our compassion and understanding, and some do not. The lines are drawn and we know which side we are on.
What’s troubling is that Jesus’ Kingdom keeps erasing those lines. That’s what happens when you do things like love your enemies and welcome the stranger. Oh, and yes, in Jesus’ Kingdom you have to do such things. Turns out that Jesus is one of those religious leaders who tells his followers what to do. There are judgments and prejudices that Jesus’ followers cannot have, and they have to do with the limits Pilate sets, because Pilate doesn’t get the last word. Hope gives us alternatives and something to do about them.
But how relevant are hope’s alternatives in a Don’t-tell-me-what-to-do world? Welcoming the stranger, offering compassion to the outcast, loving your enemy–these things aren’t the regular way of things. They aren’t the things you do if you’re at the center of the universe–compassion isn’t a survival skill. They make no sense in Pilate’s world. Violence and revenge–that’s what’s relevant here. But that’s ok, as long as Pilate’s world works for us. Hope isn’t relevant, unless of course you want another option, and then all it takes is following Jesus’ words.
Welcome those made in God’s image, refugees and all. Pray for the enemy. Offer compassion to the homeless. If we belong to Jesus, if we want more than the world Pilate rules, then these commands aren’t just an ideal we might embrace when it’s safe to do so. They are the new life Christ offers, a life lived with hope that things can change. All we have to do is give up our old life to take up the new. Is that a price we can pay, or is hope a luxury we can’t afford? That’s the relevant question.