Readers of this blog may know the following things about me:
- I’m not a fan of George W. Bush
- I’ve compared the U.S.A. to the Roman Empire
-
I believe in a strict interpretation of the just war doctrine that proscribes
war in most cases. - I didn’t agree with the invasion of Iraq. In fact, I participated in a large anti-war rally in Pittsburgh.
- I dislike the fact that the Church co-opted pagan winter celebrations with Christmas in a bid to gain more converts.
- I loathe the commercialization of Christmas by Christians. Let the pagans, heathens, and faithful of other religions spend their money how they please. We should be following the examples of Christ and His apostles.
Knowing these things, a reader might be led to believe that I’d agree with the conclusions
presented in “The
politics of the Christmas story” by James Carroll of the Boston Globe.
That reader would be wrong.
THE SINGLE most important fact about the birth of Jesus, as recounted in the Gospels, is one that receives
almost no emphasis in the American festival of Christmas. The child who was born in Bethlehem represented a
drastic political challenge to the imperial power of Rome. The nativity story is told to make the point that
Rome is the enemy of God, and in Jesus, Rome’s day is over.
The single most important fact about Jesus’ birth is His opposition to Roman imperialism?!? What Church does
this guy go to? First of all, God is a lot bigger than Roman or Palestinian concerns. Secondly, the most
important fact about Jesus’ birth is that He can to save all mankind by reconsiling us to Himself. Satan is the
enemy of God and even he is only a fallen angel and no real match. Rome was but a minor annoyance. The Jews
expected the Messiah to be a warrior king who would lead them out of oppression and establish an indestructable
Jewish state. They were thinking too small.
The nativity story was not told to villify Rome and celebrate its impending doom. It was to spread the good
news of Jesus Christ. Remember, both gospels were written after the destruction of the temple in AD 70.
Freeing Israel from Rome (or the next conquering people to come along) was basically a lost cause. Besides, at
this point, those who were disciples of Jesus knew He didn’t come as a warrior king and He wouldn’t return as
one either.
The Gospel of Matthew builds its nativity narrative around Herod’s determination to kill the
baby, whom he recognizes as a threat to his own political sway. The Romans were an occupation force in
Palestine, and Herod was their puppet-king. To the people of Israel, the Roman occupation, which preceded the
birth of Jesus by at least 50 years, was a defilement, and Jewish resistance was steady. (The historian Josephus
says that after an uprising in Jerusalem around the time of the birth of Jesus, the Romans crucified 2,000
Jewish rebels.)
This much is basically true, but an important point was missed. God didn’t want to the Hebrew people to be
governed by kings. They begged and He relented. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, there are those who would have God’s
will done and others who ask God for enough rope to hang themselves. Jesus’ birth was the herald of a new
kingship and the end of the Jewish monarchy. Rome was just another captor in a long line of them. God used
conquering peoples to put Israel back in line after they’d turned from Him.
Herod was right to feel insecure on his throne. In order to preempt any challenge from the
rumored newborn “king of the Jews,” Herod murdered “all the male children who were 2 years old or
younger.” Joseph, warned in a dream, slipped out of Herod’s reach with Mary and Jesus. Thus, right from his
birth, the child was marked as a political fugitive.
There’s nothing glaringly wrong about this paragraph, but I’m uncomfortable with putting such a narrow label
on the Savior of the World. We’re not talking about Trotski, here.
The Gospel of Luke puts an even more political cast on the story. The narrative begins with the
decree of Caesar Augustus calling for a world census — a creation of tax rolls that will tighten the empire’s
grip on its subject peoples. It was Caesar Augustus who turned the Roman republic into a dictatorship, a
power-grab he reinforced by proclaiming himself divine.
To me this doesn’t seem to be political motivation on Luke’s part, but a desire to set a historical backdrop
and explain how Jesus, a Nazarene, came to be born in Bethlehem (the Messiah was prophesied to be born
there).
His census decree is what requires the journey of Joseph and the pregnant Mary to Bethlehem, but
it also defines the context of their child’s nativity as one of political resistance. When the angel announces
to shepherds that a “savior has been born,” as scholars like Richard Horsley point out, those hearing
the story would immediately understand that the blasphemous claim by Caesar Augustus to be “savior of the
world” was being repudiated.
Again Carroll tries to force Jesus into the political pigeon hole he’s used to. Jesus is neither general nor
politician, and yet He is king. I doubt the Jewish shepherds that heard the good news ever really entertained
the possibility that Caesar was the savior – theirs or the world’s. Neither did Jesus ever attempt to rule men
in the earthly way Caesar did. When Pilate asked Him if we was king of the Jews, He replied that His kingdom is
not of this world. The annunciation to the shepherds was not propaganda but evangelization.
When Jesus was murdered by Rome as a political criminal — crucifixion was the way such rebels
were executed — the story’s beginning was fulfilled in its end. But for contingent historical reasons (the
savage Roman war against the Jews in the late first century, the gradual domination of the Jesus movement by
Gentiles, the conversion of Constantine in the early fourth century) the Christian memory deemphasized the
anti-Roman character of the Jesus story. Eventually, Roman imperialism would be sanctified by the church, with
Jews replacing Romans as the main antagonists of Jesus, as if he were not Jewish himself. (Thus, Herod is
remembered more for being part-Jewish than for being a Roman puppet.)
Jesus was a political criminal? Perhaps He was in the eyes of the Jewish authorities, but to Rome He was
just a nuissance. Pilate didn’t want to crucify Him. He’d broken no Roman laws. If the Jewish priests hadn’t
threatened to “tattle” on Pilate to the Emperor (who was already mad at Pilate), Jesus probably would
have only received a beating before being handed back over to the Jewish authorities. Gradual domination of the
Jesus movement by Gentiles? Jesus is Savior of all, not just the Jews. This was revealed to the apostles by
God, all of whom were Jewish. If “the Jesus story” had such an anti-Roman character, Simon the Zealot
would have convinced Jesus to change His tune. He didn’t. Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection weren’t about
earthly power. The Jews had been freed from physical bondage several times before and learned little from it.
Jesus came to free them, and all of humanity, from their sins. When it was safe to follow Jesus openly, the
Church adapted to the prevailing culture, which at the time was Roman. Imperialism was never sanctified by the
Church. The Kingdom of Heaven is not a country, province, or state. The empire the Church desires to cultivate
consists of faithful hearts, not subjects, slaves, or vassals.
In modern times, religion and politics began to be understood as occupying separate spheres, and
the nativity story became spiritualized and sentimentalized, losing its political edge altogether.
“Peace” replaced resistance as the main motif. The baby Jesus was universalized, removed from his
decidedly Jewish context, and the narrative’s explicit critiques of imperial dominance and of wealth were
blunted.
Geez, the way this guy writes you’d think the gospels were propaganda tracts rather than catechising tools.
While I agree that the story of Christ’s birth doesn’t have the same “punch” it probably once have,
I’d argue that it was never meant to be something so narrow as mere resistance to imperialism and wealth. The
Jews expected a conquering hero. They expected an earthly kingdom, wealth, freedom from earthly oppression,
power, and a kindgom that would never end. What they got was so different and so much more. They got the King
of Kings and Lord of Lords, who conquered death, gives us wealth of grace, freedom from sin, and power to work
miracles, and everlasting life in the Kingdom of Heaven.
This is how it came to be that Christmas in America has turned the nativity of Jesus on its head.
No surprise there, for if the story were told today with Roman imperialism at its center, questions might arise
about America’s new self-understanding as an imperial power. A story of Jesus born into a land oppressed by a
hated military occupation might prompt an examination of the American occupation of Iraq. A story of Jesus come
decidedly to the poor might cast a pall over the festival of consumption. A story of the Jewishness of Jesus
might undercut the Christian theology of replacement.
At last it comes out. The whole point of this article was to make a point about politics in America in the
21st century, not in Jerusalem in the 1st. I’m not going to debate whether we are or are not an imperial power.
I will, however, refute the suggestion that the U.S. is hated by all Iraqis. There is a loud minority, not
unlike the crowd that shouted for Jesus’ crucifixion, that is ungrateful for the removal of a despot. I do
agree that Christmas has become a festival of consumption. However, the nativity story alone will not do much
to change that. It’s true that Jesus was born in a stable and placed in a manger (a feeding trough for animals
– foreshadowing of the Eucharist), and that the good news of His birth was announced to lowly shepherds rather
than the elite and powerful. It’s also true that three magi visited Him and lavished Him with gifts of gold,
myrrh, and frankinsense. The shepherds gave what offerings they could and so did the magi. If you want to
combat consumerism and commercialism, look to Jesus’ adult life. There’s plenty of ammunition there.
Today the Roman empire is recalled mainly as a force for good — those roads, language, laws,
civic magnificence, “order” everywhere. The United States of America also understands itself as acting
in the world with good intentions, aiming at order. “New world order,” as George H.W. Bush put
it.
While I don’t doubt people admire Roman art, architecture, and thought, I don’t think the general consensus
is that Rome was a “force for good”. I think most educated people understand that Rome was wrong for
conquering people and “civilizing” them “for their own good”. The Bushes and others may see
America as duty-bound to establish democratic order across the globe in Roman fashion, but what does Jesus’
birth have to do with that? Why did we just read ten paragraphs of bad history, bad exegesis, and bad theology
to learn about that which we could find in any liberal newspaper or on any liberal news station? I’ve read
better comparisons of America to Rome and better criticisms of Republican Christianity. To paraphrase Billy Madison: Everyone who reads the Boston Globe is now dumber for having read your article. I award you no points,
and may God have mercy on your soul.
That we have this in common with Rome is caught by the Latin motto that appears just below the
engraved pyramid on each American dollar bill, “Novus Ordo Seculorum.” But, as Iraq reminds us, such
“order” comes at a cost, far more than a dollar. The price is always paid in blood and suffering by
unseen “nobodies” at the bottom of the imperial pyramid. It is their story, for once, that is being
told this week.
I have another Latin phrase that describes this last paragraph: non sequitur
. . . (continued from above)
And certainly, as Carroll pointed out, there was a theological inversion with the triumph of Christianity. No longer was it a religion of the meek inheriting the earth, but a religion of power and great governance. It was the religion whose authorities slipped easily into the administrative hierarchy that had been Rome’s. I think that’s why a lot of modern Christians come off looking like hypocrites. They’re struggling with a faith system that, in the time of Jesus, was about being that poor, oppressed group and not letting it crush your soul, and trying to fit it into being rich and powerful. That’s probably why Christianity is booming in the southern hemisphere and all its “developing nations” and languishing in the northern hemisphere (except the USA, for historical reasons that are interesting in their own right).
It’s also probably why American Christianity has become less a religion of the inner person (as many other religions are) and more a religion of cultural critique. This is exactly where Christianity was with Rome back in the first, second, and third centuries, except then it didn’t have a historical legacy of being in charge once before.
Anyway, just my three cents. 🙂
“I think most educated people understand that Rome was wrong for conquering people and ‘civilizing’ them ‘for their own good.'”
Personally, I wish Rome had conquered all the way to India, and maybe the Middle East today would be a lot more like Europe today, and a lot less like a bunch of idiots killing people to obstruct anything that’s not an Islamic theocracy.
And Carroll’s essay isn’t bad history, except for goofy little bits like Jesus being a political criminal. Early Christianity was very much anti-Roman. The Roman occupation of Judea was huge in the minds of the Jews and early Christians of the first century. But, like you say, Jesus apparently taught his followers not to fight back (like, say, the Zealots wanted to), but to look to the Kingdom of Heaven instead of complaining about their earthly political complaints. That Jesus didn’t want his people to directly and materially oppose the Roman Empire does not mean that he and they were not internally opposed. If anything, the teachings of Jesus would not have made much sense without the anti-Roman political context. Why preach that the meek shall ultimately inherit the earth if the meek aren’t worried because someone else is currently inheriting it? Jesus certainly didn’t say “Capitulate to Rome, you’ll be better off,” even though that probably would have worked out. But the teachings of Jesus refocused the religion of the Jews internally. See Luke 17:20-21, in which Jesus tells the Pharisees that “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.”
But between the time of Jesus’ departure (be it by death or ascension, depending on your beliefs) and the writing of Revelation, it’s clear that Christian loathing of Rome was on an upswing. The destruction of the temple in Jerusalem certainly didn’t help. Anyway, the anti-Roman rhetoric of Revelation is pretty striking, if obscured for modern readers by ancient metaphors.
Then, as Christianity spread within Rome, the Christian critique of Roman culture and religion was hardly favorable. Rome had plenty of cultural problems, as I’m sure you know. But if Rome had not had cultural problems, if there had been nothing there worth criticizing, I hardly think Christianity would have found the foothold it needed to explode out of Judea and become the worldwide faith it is today.
. . .
Do you not know that Carroll is an ex-priest? One may surmise his true beliefs, however, from noting that viewing absolutely everything in political categories is a tendency of Marxists.
John, consider that goof fixed.
Theo and Steve, do the ends justify the means? Rome brought peace, order, roads, plumbing, etc. through war, destruction of cultures, and oppression. This is one point I agreed with Carroll on. Were the things Rome brought to people good? Yes. Were they worth being conquered for? I’m not so sure.
Steve, the New World Order Jesus taught and the one Carroll blathered on about are very different things.
Sure Jesus’ “New World Order” is different from ours (the one Carroll points out on the dollar bill). Jesus’ order was one of the bottom people, the conquered people. Ours is one of top, powerful people. He’s talking about the same difference that led Nietzsche into his whole slave versus master mentality, and the kinds of disparate virtues they breed.
You can ask “do the ends justify the means” about lots of stuff in history. Here are some popular ones: Is a bloody, four-year civil war justified by the fact that it brought an end to African slavery in the United States? Was the dropping of atomic bombs on Japan justified by the fact that it brought an end to the war in the Pacific theater? Was the extermination of the indigenous people of North America by European colonists justified by the fact that North America is now one of the biggest, most peaceful swaths of land in the world, instead of a land gripped by tribal warfare?
People have argued intensely about all of those, and I’m not going to provide any pat answers. But my point is that making moral judgments about historical events can be difficult. If we didn’t know the end of the story in each of these cases, most people would probably be able to answer easily: the Civil War was a monstrous, immoral conflict; dropping nuclear bombs on civilians is disgusting; exterminating the Native Americans was senseless and heartless.
Knowing the historical aftermath, however, musses up those easy judgments. Suddenly you’re having to say things like, “Yes, but…”
It’s difficult to go back and criticize the Roman conquest of Europe when our entire culture and historical heritage, which bequeathed to us both our sense of history and our sense of morality, is utterly dependent on having a unified Roman Empire when and where it happened. It’s sort of like being the child of a rape victim and having to say, “Yes, well, on the one hand, it was horrible that my mother was raped, but on the other hand, I’m glad I’m here.” Very difficult.
That’s from the Boston Globe, not the Herald. THe Globe is a legitimate newspaper, whereas the Herald is a rag owned by Murdoch.
This was my first encounter with Caroll, so I was unaware of his past or current affiliations.
Well, I’d be the last one to think the ends justify, a priori, the means. There is much to hate about Rome. I’m not advocating a hindsight-blinded revisionist history of the empire. And I would certainly oppose in no uncertain terms the idea that America should try to be a new one.
But, as Theo (perhaps?) suggests, Christianity is very much the child of that rape vicim. What was intended for evil, what was not God’s will, turns out to be God’s greatest blessing. “God hides himself sometimes, inside a paradox” (T.S. Taylor)
Cheers!
Wow, Funky. You’ve been a busy beaver!
I’d have to say I’m more with Theo on this one. Let’s not be too down on Rome. Considering the alternatives, there were a lot worse choices than Rome for worldwide hegemony. Would that they had conquered all the way to India!
There is, after all, a reason that the Catholic Church is called the Roman Catholic Church. Rome proved to be a most capable host for this parasite Christianity to grow up in and, eventually flourish. Sure the host tried to stamp it out from time to time, but (perhaps a fatal flaw with all empires) never with quite enough resolve to do the trick.
Absolutely, Christ was about a whole lot more than a new politics, unless one was to mean by new politics “a new family of people, united by self-giving love, whose true power comes strangely, paradoxically through weakness.” If all truly is politics, then Jesus’ “politics” are surely the best.
But, how in all honesty, can you see Carroll’s last paragraph as a non sequitur? That the price for the New World Order is that of blood is surely an apt observation. Sure, applied to Iraq, it does seem to sully the notion a bit. (Although should Iraq, against all odds, ever truly become a stable force for freedom & tolerance in the Middle East, we might feel different.) But surely the essayists underlying meaning is that the New World Order came at the price of the blood of this certain nobody born on Christmas Day!
Cheers!