Martin Bryant
April 8, 2001
First UU Church of Austin, Texas
On Palm Sunday, First UU member Martin Bryant will review the powerful story of Jesus of Nazareth. Martin’s spiritual path led him to reconciliation with its message. He will discuss the value of this reconciliation for other humanist/universalists, for his church, and his denomination.
A handful of years ago, I became dissatisfied with my rationalist lack-of faith, and I undertook to try and discover what spirituality was and how I could introduce more of it into my life.
Among the first conscious steps was to talk to a friend of mine for whom spirituality seemed to be a major component of his life. He followed the Indian and Buddhist religious traditions and spent at least a week each year at meditation retreats and had traveled to India in search of inspiration. His answer to me was surprising. He said I’ve been told by many of my teachers that Jesus is a path to enlightenment and an appropriate one for many Americans.
Now I was raised, and confirmed as a Methodist, but it never took, and after I had been in college most of a year, my born-again Baptist high school sweetheart sent me a Dear John letter that called me a heathen. So in spite of my initial reaction to this suggestion that I had already rejected this and the suggestion seemed a little condescending, I accepted this as a challenge and thus began a year or so of sojourning into these things and so I turned to C.S. Lewis. I read not only his wonderful Narnia Chronicles to my children, but I read his other works, including Mere Christianity. Mere Christianity can serve as a sort of rosetta stone for the Christian jargon. From Mr. Lewis, finally I had a working definition of what the “holy ghost” was, but I still didn’t get possessed.
Over the course of that year I also taught the Jesus curriculum to the Jr. High R.E. Class here at First UU. I was determined that it would be respectful and as accurate as I could make it. However, accuracy is a difficult concept in these matters. Though I could talk respectfully about Jesus, to convey understanding about Christianity required a Christian, something I simply was not.
On Easter weekend, Mary K., the then three kids and I went on a camping trip near Kerrville. Driving back in the rain on Easter Sunday, my daughter Kathleen asked about Easter “what did it mean? Why did Christians celebrate it?” I was silent for a while and then told the story of Jesus, not too differently from how I am about to tell it here.
Years passed and in the spring one year a professional colleague of mine who I admire, really my mentor, a devout Christian, sent me a simple e-mail. I had discussed this place with him and he was somewhat confused by it. Right before Easter he sent me this message asking “What about Easter? What do you and your church do on Easter?”.
By this time, I was beginning to find access into myself. My initial guide was the Tao-te-Ching. I am still fascinated by the most ancient texts. I had discovered what many here know, that my sojourn was and would be one of self-discovery. But Don’s question asked me to look back at Christianity. I did and I thought about the story I told my daughter, driving in the rain. I reflected that it gathered much of what I knew about Jesus and I wrote it down for Don and her and I guess for you..
The story begins many thousands of years ago. And those that know it, know that things were not going too well between the one, Yahweh, and his people. Things had started out pretty rocky with the apple from the tree of knowledge. Then there was the time the big guy got so mad he flooded the earth, drowning everyone except Noah, his family, and two of each of the animal species. Remember Sodom and Gomorrah? Even after saving the people from famine in Egypt and then delivering them from servitude, with dramatic plagues and locust swarms no less, there was that Golden Calf incident. The commandments didn’t really help too much. Frankly they reinforced the opinion folks had of the one – prescriptive and vindictive.
Well, Yahweh felt misunderstood. And so, he sent a messenger to better explain his position. A prophet, an angel, a treasured one, more a part of himself than any other.
And people were very surprised. Jesus of Nazareth shattered the “prescriptive and vindictive” image. He taught compassion and tended to the sick, including the lepers. He taught mercy and protected the sinner. He taught justice and brought his message to foreigners, women, and children. He eschewed religious law to assist people on the Sabbath. He taught that man could best show his love for Yahweh by loving his fellow man. And he lived his teachings.
A message this radical was hard to take. Jesus’ earthly mentor had been arrested and beheaded. And Jesus was even more popular and dangerous, both to the established church and the complicated government of his occupied homeland. And so Jesus of Nazareth, too was arrested. According to the story, he reacted to this with a discipline of nonviolence that was consistent with his teachings. But as we all who know the story know, Jesus’ fate, as was John’s before him, was to die.
Now whether by divine hand, or well crafted lore, this part of the story seems to be designed to make clear that the blame for Jesus’ execution should not be assigned to any one party. The Roman governor had him whipped, but limited punishment to that. The Jewish puppet monarch also refused to declare a punishment, giving the crowd the right to determine Jesus’ fate. Jesus’ own friends denied or otherwise betrayed him. Yes, Jesus would die, and it would be everyone’s fault, including, to the extent we could see our failings (of lost faith, embarrassment, and negligence) in those who killed him, our own.
But there was Jesus, beaten, bleeding, in enormous pain, humiliated, and a few breaths from death by horrible execution. And hanging from the cross, Jesus uttered among the most famous words of our lore “Forgive them, father, they know not what they do”
Now imagine you were among those early Christians. Believing that Jesus was the unique “son of God” and knowing the history of Yahweh, the powerful one who had proven to have such a nasty temper in the days of Noah and Moses. Those simple words “forgive them, father”, might offer little hope of protection from that awful wrath.
How long would we wait for the vengeance? Hours? Days? Months? Years? Centuries? What is this time to an omnipotent one?
And yet each day, the sun rose. The seas did not boil with blood, the skies did not fill with death. Those few words, requesting forgiveness began to seem like a shield, protecting the people. Protecting them from a terrible vengeance they completely deserved. There was no other explanation.
Well, two thousand years have passed and here we are now, recognizing the power of that forgiveness. Two thousand years. Forgive them Father.
Now, I’m not one of those people that believes that this story is either historically or metaphysically accurate. In the Gospel according to Mark…….Twain, he said “There’s nothing to change the truth like a good story”. And like many great stories, this one does “ring” true.
If I can learn from this story, if I can learn to be compassionate to the sick, even those that frighten me. If I can be merciful, even to those who threaten me. If I can exercise justice and see all of my sisters and brothers as equals. If I can see beyond dogma and religious law to a religion of kindness and understanding. If I can l be truly nonviolent and turn the other cheek. If I can make my life a mission of reconciliation and tender instruction. If I can forgive, when forgiveness seems impossible.
If I can learn to love.
Then maybe, I can be a Christian, in the same sense as my Unitarian predecessor Thomas Jefferson, who wrote: “I am a Christian, in the only sense he wished any one to be; sincerely attached to his doctrines, in preference to all others; ascribing to himself every human excellence; and believing he never claimed any other.”
Many Unitarian Universalist churches, including this one, seem to have an invisible picture of Jesus over the front doors. Unlike other churches, however, ours has a red circle and a bar across his face. I remember one meeting I attended here where we were discussing not having too much Christian music in the service and someone stated “We never have Jesus or Christ in the music in our church” followed by “…..well never in English in anyway.”
Not unlike my namesake of a few hundred years ago, I’d like to take hammer in hand and climb the church steps — not to nail something on the doors, but to tear down that invisible sign. It does us many disservices.
Firstly, it denies us the proven spiritual power of this story and this message. A message that is in great part responsible for the best parts of our culture. A message that is at the heart of both our Unitarian and Universalist traditions.
Secondly, it alienates those do not need or want the unnecessary and convoluted theology that others package with them, but find cultural reassurance in Jesus’ message and great comfort in the symbol of the kind and wise shepherd. They feel if he is not welcome here, they must not be either.
Thirdly, our rejection of this story is a barrier between between us and liberal Christians. A barrier which prevents us from cooperating with these fine people in ways that could be powerful and meaningful for us and our communities. A barrier which prevents us from building partnerships that could be transforming for ourselves and our communities.
Finally, that sign abandons this story to be the exclusive license of those whose unnecessary and convoluted theology separates this story from the Universal faith where it belongs. If we cannot preach this story here, then it cannot be taught without those things that some cannot accept.
Did Jesus rise? I don’t know. Jesus taught compassion, and justice, and forgiveness.
Can you roll back the great stone of guilt and fear and let those things rise in you?
