Sermon

When Jesus Became God

The Rev. Jack D. Bryant

Hope Unitarian Church

April 27, 2003

First Reading: Exodus 32:1-6

When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered around Aaron, and said to him, “Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.” Aaron said to them, “Take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters, and bring them to me.” So all the people took off the gold rings from their ears, and brought them to Aaron. He took the gold from them, formed it in a mold, and cast an image of a calf; and they said, “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!” When Aaron saw this, he built an altar before it; and Aaron made proclamation and said, “Tomorrow shall be a festival to the Lord.” They rose early the next day and offered burnt offerings and brought sacrifices of wellbeing; and the people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to revel.

Second Reading: Rubenstein, Richard E. When Jesus Became God. p. 225-6

Not long after the emperor outlawed Arian religious worship, a violent and revealing incident occurred in Callinicum, a Roman frontier town in Mesopotamia. A Christian mob led by monks burned both a Jewish synagogue and a chapel used by the Valentinians, a tiny sect of heretical Christians. It is not clear whether there were worshipers in these buildings at the time; such “details” were seldom reported. Theodosius responded as one would expect a responsible ruler to respond: he ordered the local bishop to make restitution to the injured parties and to punish the mob’s ringleaders. But before the order could be carried out, Ambrose of Milan, the self-appointed guardian of Western orthodoxy, objected strongly.

Why should Christians be penalized for attacking Jews and heretics? Ambrose complained. Had the pagan emperor, Julian, punished his people when Christians were attacked? Theodosius’ intervention against Christ’s faithful servants was nothing less than sacrilegious. The fact that imperial officials in Mesopotamia were calling for the protection of Jews and heretics was irrelevant. Unless the emperor repented, Ambrose warned, he could hardly offer him Holy Communion in good conscience. . ..

The threat of possible excommunication struck home.

Theodosius revoked his command.

It is not clear whether this reversal acted as a signal, or whether Christian zealots would have gone on a rampage against unbelievers in any event, but a long wave of religious violence followed.

Sermon

I came across Richard Rubenstein’s book, When Jesus Became God, several years ago. I have long been familiar with the general outlines of the story of how Jesus became God. I knew it was a transformation that took place long after the life of Jesus, a process that was not complete until the fourth century. Rubenstein’s book, however, gives a detailed narrative that goes far beyond anything I had previously known. Even my classes in seminary only scratched the surface by comparison. I found it a compelling story of human conflict and dirty tricks of the kind one expects in full contact politics – which should not be surprising when one realizes it was played out in the context of the religious bureaucracy of Imperial Rome. Let me be blunt. It was an ugly, nasty conflict that reminds me of the old political axiom from my home state of Texas that says there are two things a person doesn’t want to see made: sausage and laws. After reading Rubenstein’s book, I’m tempted to add theology to that list.

I’d like to be able to tell you that all the dirty tricks were played by the Trinitarians, but that’s not true. In fact, the “dirty trick” that is probably best remembered – which I will not repeat in this venue as it has a certain salacious character – I’ll leave it to your imagination – was one staged by the Arians. It’s remembered because of how it backfired on them. There was also considerable violence – from both sides of the controversy – but I think it’s fair to say that there was significantly more violence on the side of those who believed Jesus was God.

No one knows for sure just how the population was split on the issue at the beginning. At the very least there was a significant minority that rejected the belief that Jesus was God. A few scholars have suggested the two groups were about equal in numbers. It’s even possible the Arians held a slight majority. But it doesn’t matter, because in the year 380 the struggle ended when Jesus was declared God by an edict of the Emperor Theodosius.

I believe the adoption of Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire is the ultimate ironic footnote to the life of Jesus. Jesus, in his life, was an opponent of the Roman Empire. His death by crucifixion was the prescribed means of execution for those guilty of sedition against Rome. Crucifixion was not used for any other crime. But what about the two bandits who were executed by his side? That’s a mistranslation. The word bandit was understood at that time as a euphemism for revolutionary, that is, someone who opposed Rome. Jesus, the man who spoke of God as a parent and advocated love of one’s neighbor as the highest human obligation, was a revolutionary opponent of Rome. But the religion that claimed Jesus was God made him the principle supporter of order and obedience for that very same Empire.

When I first reflected on how Jesus became God, I thought of the story of the Golden Calf. I think the reason is obvious. It is a story of idolatry, of giving unwarranted value to something. Certainly, when one declares a human being to be God, that is idolatry in the classic sense. I looked up the story and read it again. That same week, I also happened to read a statement about leadership by Peter Steinke in which he spoke of that same story. Steinke made a comment that surprised me. He said the story of the Golden Calf was an example of the failure of leadership. It was – in his words – an example of people losing their nerve. Moses had gone to the mountaintop. He’d been there for a long time. The people became afraid. They wanted a quick fix, something that would immediately stop their fear and anxiety. They found a quick fix with the Golden Calf. I believe that is a fascinating way to look at the story – and at how Jesus became God – especially this week after Easter.

Jesus was a troublemaker. He was an active opponent of the Roman Empire. More specifically, he was an advocate for social justice. When confronted with a religious bureaucracy that used its monopoly to extract money from people, he overturned the tables of the moneychangers in the temple. When confronted with sickness and injury in a society that had no medical system as we would recognize it today, he was a healer. Do you believe he actually healed people? Personally, I doubt it. But he tried – and I believe that is what is most important. Whether he had the skills of a healer or not, is not as important as the fact that he had the heart of healer. In a society built on state terrorism, he said to “love your neighbor as yourself” was the most important of all the commandments. And he was not advocating anything that was easy. To be a follower of Jesus – to truly be a follower of Jesus – was not easy. It meant you were at risk of being crucified by the Roman government.

I believe that’s why it was necessary for Jesus to become God. It was a failure of nerve. It was the ultimate quick fix. When Jesus became God, one no longer had to emulate him, one no longer had to follow in his footsteps, one no longer had to confront injustice, which meant one no longer had to confront the injustices of the Roman empire. Instead, a person could just go along to get along. One could just talk the talk without having to walk the walk. In fact, one could then accept a nice, cushy job as a religious bureaucrat for the Roman Empire. Instead of a golden calf, the deification of Jesus produced the fourth-century version of today’s corporate golden parachute – which included a Roman sinecure, a nice safe job with a comfortable salary and the perks of power.

I believe much the same happens today when we turn something into God. It becomes a quick fix for our anxiety, a way of avoiding the hard and difficult tasks that a genuine of divine service might require. We’re worried about terrorism – so our government deifies America and proclaims that America will act unilaterally in the world and anyone who disagrees with our government is irrelevant. Personally, that doesn’t make me feel better, but I believe it helps many people. And, of course, organized religion is called upon to glorify America’s divine role. But others deify and make a God out of peace. That, too, is a quick fix. One no longer has to confront evil, one need only embrace peace. Peace is the answer to everything. Pay no attention to a regime that is guilty of genocide – just knowing that you are for peace will absolve your conscience of all sins.

One can also make a God out of money. It’s another quick fix. Instead of having to build relationships and judge people as the complex entities they are, we can have a simple, objective test. If people have money, they are good. If they don’t, then obviously there is something wrong with them. And the same goes for life. One no longer has to worry about having a life worth living – that’s complicated and difficult. Instead, one just has to check his or her bank balance to know that life is good.

One can also make a God out of standardized tests. Friday morning I was listening to an NPR report on how public education has fared over the last twenty years. They gave the example of a Connecticut school that twenty years ago was the best public school in that state. It’s still a good school, but twenty years of being forced to prepare students for standardized tests has pulled it down. It’s not as good as it was. I believe making standardized, nationwide tests the divine standard for educational performance will not improve education – I believe it will make education worse. But it’s a quick fix, the answer to the anxiety produced by the challenge of offering genuine education. There's nothing easy about real education. It means you have to deal with the difficult reality of inspiring a mind – which is different than the Pavlovian training process that standardized testing forces upon us.

And on a mundane level, there’s the deification of the status quo. Have you ever heard the expression, “We’ve never done it that way before,” or “That’s the way we’ve always done it?” Turning the status quo into God is another quick fix, a way of avoiding the stress and unpleasantness of change.

I believe there is a human tendency to want to turn God into something concrete and tangible. I believe we do so as a response to fear and anxiety. As a result, there is always an air of triumphalism – a triumphalism that reveals the underlying insecurity. The crusade of violence and persecution against non-Christians and Christian heretics that began when Jesus became God evidences the underlying fear. As Rubenstein says,

“The mood that motivates such crusades is almost always a mix of triumphalism and insecurity, as if success itself somehow intensified hidden feelings of vulnerability on the part of the victors.” (When Jesus Became God – p.226)

I believe Jesus was not made God because he was God – I believe he was made God because of the feelings of insecurity and vulnerability on the part of his followers. I believe we see this now in the angry response to those who continue to question the war in Iraq. I heard it this week in the voice of a media commentator who described antiwar protestors on one corner and then referred to those on the opposite corner who were supporting the war as “American demonstrators.” People wrap themselves in their God – which can take the form of a flag – to hide the nakedness of their fear. But I have also seen the mirror image of that behavior from some of the antiwar protestors. And I see it on occasion in people who wrap themselves in the principles and purposes of the Unitarian Universalist Association. They treat them as a creed – and in doing so wrap themselves in words to avoid the need for genuine theological discourse and reflection. I believe we – including myself – are all guilty of such behavior at one time or another – guilty of wanting to turn God into something tangible and real – and therefore limited and controllable, as a way of dealing with anxiety, as a way of creating a quick fix so we don’t have to face the difficult tasks of life.

This does not mean that I reject the idea of God or the divine. What I want to reject are the idolatries of mind and spirit that would turn any idea, any thing, any person – even the human race – into God, into that which has ultimate value. Because I believe to do so is always a quick fix, always a way to avoid, rather than face, our anxieties and fears.

I believe what we need for a God, for a idea of the divine, is not an entity or idea that will be a quick fix for our fears and anxieties, but a God that will force us to confront our fears and anxieties. Not a God that offers us a safe job in the Imperial bureaucracy, but a God who will lure us to challenge the state when it is wrong. Not a domesticated God that does the bidding of the state and says we should declare, “My country right or wrong,” but a God who says our motto should be, “My country right or wrong, when right to be kept right, when wrong to be put right." I believe making Jesus God requires nothing of me – it makes everything the responsibility of God and lets me off the hook. I much prefer an image of God that leaves me on the hook, that requires much of me, that challenges me.

I believe that’s what the theologian H. Richard Niebuhr was talking about in his book, Radical Monotheism. Neibuhr called for a rejection of any God that could be imagined, because, he said, such a God couldn’t possibly be God. He called for a God beyond God, the kind of God that can’t become human. It’s why every religion in the world has warnings against idolatry. It’s why the Buddhist say, if you meet the Buddha on the roadside, kill him.

But you may ask, how does one recognize the God beyond God and distinguish it from idols? I think Rabbi Harold Kushner offers a good test. If God, the divine, or whatever you want to call it, is offering you a quick fix, says the Rabbi, offering you what you want to hear, something that is easy and safe, something consistent with your own prejudices, something that will make you comfortable, then you should be cynical, you should suspect it is an idol. In that situation, I counsel following the advice of the Buddhists. But if there is something that tugs on your heart, something that calls you to take chances, something that calls for you to sacrifice, to speak the truth before power, that challenges your prejudices, that makes you uncomfortable, and that scares you a little bit – or perhaps it is something that scares you a great deal, and calls for you to risk much, to go in harms way, to confront evil, then maybe, just maybe, you are hearing the call, the lure of the divine. One can’t make a plastic figure for the dashboard out of that kind of God. But maybe, just maybe, it might lead one to recognize a God that is worthy of the name.

Amen.