My 12th grade physics teacher once called me master of the obvious. He said it as joke, but there was truth to that joke. I took it as a compliment. Anyway, in that tradition I offer another example of Chester, master of the obvious, for today’s sermon: Racism remains a problem in our country. Today, though, how racism affects people is not obvious. It infects communities in hidden ways and prevents us from connecting meaningfully across racial boundaries. Even among Euro-Americans the rich heritages we bring to America are secretly obliterated by the racial category, white. Why do most of us consider ourselves white, instead of remembering and celebrating our heritages? I say it was a useful tactic exploited at the foundation of American culture. Classifying themselves as white enabled the diversity of European cultures to transcend the conflicts they brought from Europe.
However, if we take our faith seriously, we must see that this white transcendence is false and satanic. Yes, I did just use the word satanic. I meant it, but in a truly biblical way. Satan’s name translated from Hebrew simply means the Accuser. Isn’t that fascinating? According to Jesus Satan is the “father of lies.” He’s the absence of truth, which I believe tells us that Satan has no actual being. Satan is rather a human principle. He’s the usual manner by which human culture forms community. Satan falsely accuses others. False accusation enables one group to blame another for some sin or evil, which justifies the oppression of others. In short, Satan covertly unites people in hate.
Indeed, at the foundation of the American world is a satanic unity. It enabled white colonizers to unite and justify their oppression and murder of native peoples. Unfortunately, the Accuser remains integrated in our culture today, but in less overt ways. Racial slurs and policies that intend to oppress are relatively uncommon. The kind of racism I’m talking about is due more to ignorance of human limitations and social sin.
For instance, our government honors the sovereignty of native lands more than before. This affords native folks some space to understand what it means to live as native in the midst of white capitalistic, colonial powers. Nevertheless, our society still resists allowing native folks to make a claim upon us, to shape culture in a way that’s fair and life-giving to all. Society opens its arms to native culture, but primarily in ways that support the status quo. They’re warriors, braves, redskins, and impoverished alcoholics. Such is the support of the Accuser. In another case up north on the Leech Lake reservation, Dennis Banks, founder of the American Indian Movement, is currently fighting water drainage from the lake. Because of an increase of water use in the metro area – for golf courses, pools, green yards – the lake has dropped several feet. This drop has drastically reduced wild rice and berry crops; both are exported and consumed by the people on the reservation. In this case, I would claim that a culture of consumption encourages some to feel entitled to luxuries, while blinding all to the cost of those luxuries. Sadly, the poor, who’re disproportionately people of color, must pay a price that disproportionately affects them. Green grass for some means fewer necessities for others. White culture remains the norm and imposes itself upon native folks, even in their sovereign lands. Unless we truly open ourselves to them and change, we only encourage assimilation.
In most cases racism quietly manifests itself through culture and our economic system. In Peggy McIntosh’s Invisible knapsack of Privilege, she identifies other ways in which racism secretly manifests itself. She says that as a white person she can be sure of certain things. “I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race. I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having my co-workers on the job suspect that I got it because of my race. I can be sure that my children will be given educational materials that testify to the existence of their race.” McIntosh helps us to see that without any ill will, and often with good intentions based on sound values, we unknowingly perpetuate a culture of racism.
When I first encountered this stuff at seminary I felt convicted and even ashamed, especially because it now seemed so obvious to me. I thought, “Hey, I’m supposed to be master of the obvious! How could I’ve missed this?” Humility was one of my lessons, and I knew that if I was not going to let shame defeat me, I would have to think theologically about this, and ask how God wants me to change. I believe that today’s scripture will help us. It provides support for the spirit of McIntosh’s work, and it helps us begin to come to grips with the needed process of change.
The Word from Colossians states: We find peace through the blood of the cross. We must ask how such statement could be true. The key rests with our criminal from Luke who Jesus welcomes into paradise. I think he very clearly provides the path to salvation. We must first acknowledge that our saved criminal ironically has a privileged position. Some biblical scholars suspect that the criminals are Zealots, a group of Jewish radicals who supported violently overthrowing the Roman authorities and corrupt temple leadership. If true, they probably knew Jesus, since many scholars identify Jesus as being close to that group. Jesus, however, repeatedly refused the violent Zealot option. So, the saved criminal would know Jesus didn’t harbor any malice, let alone plans for a revolt.
Besides knowing Jesus’ innocence, the saved criminal has nothing to lose in proclaiming that innocence. If others took a stand in solidarity with Jesus, they would risk suffering the same fate. The majority of the crowd, however, simply cannot detect the lie about Jesus’ guilt. Executions and sacrifices play an important role in bringing communities together, especially in times of turmoil when communal ties are weak.
In Jesus’ time Israel was occupied by Rome. Most people suffered great oppression and poverty. Furthermore, the people knew that many of its leaders were corrupt. People yearned for a Davidic kind of messiah to come and liberate them from their misery. Undoubtedly, Jesus was aware that any sort of revolt, even one in self-defense would’ve probably exploded into an all-out holy war. Such a war would’ve only resulted in Israel’s destruction. It would be like a native reservation going to war against the US.
In a situation when community is fractured or in crisis, lawlessness and sin abounds. Out of necessity, people worry more about survival, than relationships with the neighbor. What brings people together in insecure times more than someone who everyone can agree to hate? For us, Bin Laden and the terrorists serve this function. Right after 9/11 there was never a time that the US was more united with itself and other nations. Everyone could agree to hate the terrorists, and even blame them for everything wrong under the sun. In the united hate of America, all our other problems were either somehow directly caused by the terrorists, or simply took a back seat.
Israel was in a worse situation. Given the impossibility of defeating Rome and rising tensions, what Israel needed was someone people could hate without risking revolt. Jesus made the perfect sacrifice. He was a rabble-rouser. He was someone many people had probably heard about, but didn’t actually know. He had no official leadership position, nor any close ties to the political powers. He refused violence. Few would care if some poor carpenter from the backward area of Galilee was executed. Besides, there were plenty of false messiahs at the time. Jesus would just be one more who failed to meet the expectations of the people for a great liberator. And if people were calling Him messiah and He was executed as a common criminal, people would only hate Him more for giving them false hope. Jesus’ sacrifice was low-risk, and would allow the people to unite in hating and blaming Him, a false messiah, for everything wrong under the sun.
In perhaps this terribly round about way, I hope I’ve made it clear why most of the crowd are incapable of detecting the lie that justified Jesus’ execution. In short, fear mingled with hate and blame blinds them to the truth. Unified hate brings them together and reduces the tensions within all the insecurity. His death is cathartic. It allows the crowds to divert blame and tension from amongst themselves and the primary source of trouble – social injustice and oppression – which they’re mostly impotent to resolve.
Now let’s get back to the saved criminal, the key to salvation. In utter torment, when Jesus has every right to take up arms, he forgives his persecutors: Forgive them Father, they know not what they do! Instead of being lead by satanic temptations, Jesus allows God the space to work, even at the cost of Himself. God’s grace shines through Jesus and stuns the criminal into God-consciousness. Instead of joining everyone else in overt or silent condemnation of Jesus, the criminal converts. He embraces the forgiveness God offers through Christ. He’s saved because in confronting the brutalized Christ and seeing His innocence, he realizes that his Zealot behavior can only aid satanic culture and lead to similar kinds of sacrifices in the future. Most people, I believe, struggle when deciding to use violence, and do so only when they think it’s necessary. Still, even when violence appears necessary, the thought of it remains too terrible. Lies that make one appear absolutely right, and lies that demonize the enemy seem to be required to make one’s violence effective. In war, as in Christ’s crucifixion, people need reasons that rationalize their violence, not forgive their enemies.
Jesus’ mission on Cavalry has nothing to do with that of an earthly king; the repeated mockery of Jesus makes that clear. His mission is a pointed attack upon satanic thinking, which builds community with useful lies. By accepting His death and maintaining His innocence, God in Christ deprives us of the power to form community at the expense of scapegoats. The cross that rests at the center of our faith is a warning. The reality of the broken body and blood that’s thrust upon us every Sunday forces us to confront the real consequences of our real violence, and severely judges that violence. It calls us to task for justifying oppression with lies, and excusing sins by blaming others.
Today, the light of Christ’s cross is dispersing the shadows of racism. It reveals that our social order is formed at the expense of those who aren’t white. I know none of us intends to be racist. But, all of us, myself included, carry within ourselves our culture, which handles racism for us. It establishes standards or norms for behavior and identity. The problem is that these standards often come exclusively from white contexts. These standards create our social order, and they end up alienating and oppressing everyone who doesn’t fit. They’re expelled by the system right from the get-go, and often blamed for failing to conform. I want to emphasize that none of us can see the whole picture; we all unintentionally harm others in this manner. That’s why we must remember the brutality of the cross; one person in Bible study rightly said, it’s a reality check. It calls us to see harm; and that call to look with eyes that can see is partly how Christ crucified truly saves. Yet, Christ’s judgment, while necessary, isn’t the final word. As God incarnate, Jesus alone has the final word: We’re forgiven.
As the final word, the forgiveness of God in Christ is fundamental. That loving grace gently invites us out of judgment, as well as fear. The fear here is not simply fear of the consequences of defying God. It’s fear of change. Our social norms aren’t just social standards imposed upon society. Norms are part of who we are; they make up our identity, which is fine. But, when we find that they harm, God’s grace calls us to reevaluate ourselves, and our community. This examination often demands change, individually and socially, which is uncomfortable and even painful. It puts before us our sin, and makes us vulnerable. In our vulnerability, if we refuse to trust God’s promised grace in Christ, our fear and guilt won’t move us to repent. We won’t seek to atone for the harm we’ve caused and cause others. The crucified Christ will become a stumbling block. Christ crucified becomes a reminder of our violence that we cannot bear to face and, dare I say, we seek to whitewash. When this happens, we risk colluding with the Accuser’s powers again, and find that the only transcendence possible is the false kind that the Accuser happily supplies. Instead, let’s embrace that loving grace Christ offers from the cross. It’s our defense that enables us to repent Satan back into the nothingness from which he came and usher in the peaceable Kingdom.
Amen
