FINDINGS V By Harry T. Cook
     

Lent VI Palm Sunday - A - April 13, 2014

The Passion of Jesus Called "The Christ" 

 

 

Harry T. CookBy Harry T. Cook
4/7/14


This edition comes in three parts:

  1. The translation and paraphrase of the Passion Narratives.
  2. Exegesis and exposition
  3. An article entitled " 'Church' Without the Myths of the Blood Atonement and The Resurrection" with a link to an earlier Findings article: "Is the Jesus of the New Testament a Composite Character?: The Evidence and Its Implications"

 

 

   

If we had not been taught how to interpret the story of the Passion, would we have been able to say from their actions alone whether it was the jealous Judas or the cowardly Peter who loved Christ?

-- Graham  Greene, The End of the Affair, 1951

 

 

Here begins a story of the death of Jesus: It was some days after Jesus came to Jerusalem for what turned out to be the last time. He was at a special supper with his friends. He took a piece of bread in his hands and intoned the traditional thanksgiving over it. Then he broke it and gave it to each of those present saying, "This loaf of bread I'm breaking is like my body which will be broken. Whenever you eat the bread on this kind of occasion, think of me." After supper was over, he picked up a cup of wine and said, "The wine in this cup that I am sharing with you is like my blood that will be shed. When you share a cup like this together, think of me." / That same night, he went off by himself. It was then that he was arrested and brought before the religious authorities to answer the charge that he had allowed himself to be thought of by some as a god and by others as a king. The charge could not be proved, so they took him to the Roman proconsul, hoping that he would be interested in charging Jesus with trying to take the place of Caesar, who, besides being the actual king, was believed by Rome to be a god. / Meanwhile, one of Jesus' close followers, a Galilean named Simon but called Peter, stayed behind outside of the courtroom where Jesus was being charged. One of the young women servants saw him and said to him: "Aren't you one of the followers of that man Jesus?" Peter, startled, replied: "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't even know him." The woman said: "Oh, come on. You certainly do know him. You're one of those who followed him here from Galilee."  Peter retorted: "That's not true. I told you that I don't know him. Never saw him before in my life!"

 

Just then, a rooster crowed, as it was near dawn. When Peter heard it, he remembered that Jesus had told him that he would deny knowing him at least twice before dawn. Peter broke down and cried, as he realized his cowardice. Now that it was morning, the religious authorities decided it was not too early to bind Jesus over to the Roman court. So off they went to Pilate's office. When Jesus stood before Pilate, Pilate asked him: "So are you the King of the Jews?" To which Jesus replied: "You are saying so by using the words." The religious authorities then began to lay out before Pilate all the things of which they were accusing Jesus. But Jesus stood mute, refusing to come to his own defense. This interested Pilate, who said to him: "Why do you not answer these charges? They're serious enough. You could be executed, you know." - Still Jesus remained silent, so much so that Pilate became angry and frustrated and said to his guards: "Get this rabble rouser out of my sight!"

 

Whether Pilate's soldiers took that as an order to put Jesus to death is not known. But eventually, Jesus was bound and taken off with a number of other criminals to a site outside the city gates known as "The Place of the Skull," because the remains of others who died after crucifixion there were a frequent and grisly sight. The Roman guards herded their prisoners, including Jesus, up to the place where each was bound, arms stretched out, to a crosspiece of wood, which was then stood up and planted in the ground. [The effect was that whoever was hanged that way would eventually tire to the degree that his head would drop down on his chest and thus the air supply would be cut off to his lungs. Death came -- if it came -- by asphyxiation or exposure. It is implied at John 20:25 that Jesus was nailed as well as bound to the cross, which, if true, would have added extreme pain.]  Some of Jesus' detractors mocked him in his suffering, calling out: "Hey, you up there. You trust God so much, why don't you have him come and save you now? Why don't you just jump right down off that cross right now?" -- The Roman guards had started the crucifixions of the day around noon. By three o'clock, Jesus began to die. At one point, some heard him cry out: Eli, eli, lema sabachthani? Which for those who understood Aramaic means, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" (See Psalm 22:1a) One of those standing around decided to make a joke, thinking that Jesus had asked for a drink of water. So he filled a sponge with vinegar, put it on the end of a stick and held it up to Jesus' mouth, saying: "Wait and see. Maybe Elijah will come and take him down." -- At just about that time, Jesus heaved his last breath and died. (Translated, condensed and paraphrased by Harry T. Cook.)

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

The homiletic value of the Passion gospel is its testimony to the flesh-and-blood reality of a religious experience born in resistance to unjust powers. The Jesus of the gospels (especially of Thomas, Mark, Matthew and Luke) was a teacher and exemplar of an ethical wisdom that, Gandhi-like, challenged the prevailing mores and attitudes of a malign culture. The power structure of that culture struck back, creating a martyr whose witness (the Greek term μάρτυς -- martyr -- means "witness") revealed the truth about that power. The Passion/Palm Sunday homily will not achieve its purpose unless its homilist says clearly what malign powers of the present time need to be unmasked as corrupt. This is not a task that should be undertaken lightly. It can be costly. The Latin root of "passion" means suffering.

   

While the appointed version of the Passion for Year A is its Matthean text, this edition of FINDINGS V will treat in brief of all four canonical passion texts. What is remarkable is not the differences in the accounts -- and they are many -- but the similarities that are striking. This could mean, as many commentators say, that the passion narratives were among the earliest material in the canon of Christianity, n�e Jesus Judaism and thus may have been compiled from eyewitness accounts. But it could also mean that they are among the latest as the first of them (Mark's) did not appear until after 70 CE. No mention of the passion is found in the basic Q collection or in the Gospel of Thomas. To rebut that, there was no doubt in Paul's mind that Jesus was crucified, crucifixion having been one of Rome's preferred means of public humiliation. The practice -- borrowed from the Persians and Phoenicians -- would certainly have been used during the early first century. It is not unreasonable to ask if the gospels' crucifixion narratives had their origin in myth but gained verisimilitude from what was evidently the widespread custom of the impatient Roman military government as time went on toward the end of the first century and the culmination, if not the end, of the Jewish-Roman wars at Masada.

 

It is pretty much agreed that the passion narrative begins with the trek to the Mount of Olives (Mark 14: 26, Matthew 26:30 and Luke 22:39). The very first thing that occurs is Peter's declaration of steadfastness followed by Jesus' devastating statement about the crowing of the cock -- one of the more dramatic and unforgettable images in scripture for which we have Mark or some earlier imaginative source to thank. Jesus' retreat to think things over follows with Mark and Matthew naming "the place of the winepress" -- Gethsemane -- and Luke omitting mention of it. All three synoptics report the "not-my-will-but-thine-be-done" petition with Luke alone providing the melodrama of "sweat like great drops (or clots) of blood." The disciples fall asleep three times in Mark and Matthew and once in Luke. Enter Judas in all three accounts. In John, too. In Matthew, Judas is accompanied by a crowd with swords and clubs sent, it is said, by the chief priests and elders. Mark adds the scribes. Luke merely mentions the crowd. Why are the officials themselves not placed at the scene?

 

The synoptics report the famous kiss, which would in all probability have been the Mediterranean hands-on-both-shoulders, twice cheek-to-cheek greeting. John omits mention of the kiss. Next comes the lopping off of the ear of the high priest's slave. The synoptics say "one of those with Jesus" did it. John blames Peter. Mark alone adds the odd detail of the young bystander whom the crowd seized. Because the young man was said to have worn only a linen cloth (wrapped around him, loin cloth-like, perhaps) he was able to slip away. Several commentators have suggested that this is a subtle hint of an eyewitness report, that perhaps the young man was Mark himself in a brief autobiographical literary moment. It may also be a loose bit of detail that got bonded to Mark's version in some way now beyond our present ability to trace.

 

Jesus is next made to appear before the leaders of the Jerusalem hierarchy, and Peter is set up by all four canonical evangelists for his infamous denial, thus linking him with his colleague Judas, the hander-overer.

 

In inexorable procession, the scene in all four gospels moves to the Roman venue of Pilate. Of the four Jesus-Pilate colloquies, John's is the most dramatic with Pilate's momentous and unanswered question, "What is truth?"  -- As for Judas, Matthew elects to dispose of him in a kind of parenthetical passage (27: 3-10) using some of the words and images Luke will use at Acts 1: 18-19. Judas simply disappears from the Markan and Johannine narratives.

 

Barabbas appears in the synoptics as well as in John. Mark says Barabbas was a prison rioter and murder "in the insurrection." Matthew merely says he was "a notorious prisoner" (δεσμιος, one who is bound), Luke an insurrectionist and John "a bandit." Assuming that any of that is factual, the crowds are depicted as crying for his release as if it had been an established custom to commute a criminal's sentence or to issue an outright pardon anticipating the Passover observances. Mark and Matthew suggest that it was, but there is no other evidence of such a custom.

 

As the execution approaches, Mark depicts Jesus being clothed in a purple cloak, Matthew a scarlet robe and John a purple robe -- all mockeries as if Jesus had been a king or prince. All three synoptics include the conscript Simon of Cyrene whom Mark identities as the father of Alexander and Rufus -- an attempt at verisimilitude?

 

The execution venue is either "the Place the Skull" (Luke and John) but "Golgotha" by Mark and Matthew. All four canonical gospels place other convicts at the site: Matthew ("robbers"), Mark ("those who were crucified with him"), Luke ("two criminals") and John ("two others"). Mark and Matthew include the "King of the Jews" inscription, while John has it appear in Hebrew, Latin and Greek. Luke, Matthew, Mark and John include the division of Jesus' clothing. Luke alone has Jesus pray for his tormentors' forgiveness. Mark and Matthew have the ninth hour cry "Eli, eli ..." Matthew alone has the earthquake aftermath, and all three synoptics have the veil of the Holy of Holies rent in twain.

 

The details may seem circumstantial and unnecessary of mention, but they each and all are important if only because the various writers and editors saw fit to include them. The story of the execution obviously became of first importance to the nascent church of the post-70 CE period as it struggled to create for itself a story that would compete with those of other religions with their dying and rising sons of gods.

 

 

 * * * * * 

 

 

Ernest Hemingway wrote about bullfighting in Spain under the title Death in the Afternoon and said of the social controversy over that blood sport: "Anything capable of arousing passion in its favor will surely raise as much passion against it." He said he found in bullfighting the elemental nature of life and death.

 

Christians are about to enter into what is known as "Passiontide," during which they replay the drama of the gospel narratives that purport to be accounts of Jesus' arrest, arraignment, torture and execution. In Hemingway's mind, Jesus would be the bull, and his betraying and denying friends along with Pontius Pilate and his Roman executors the matador.

 

To Hemingway, the bull's death was a noble death because the beast never gave up or gave in until the matador's blade pierced its skull. To this, as he said, passion was aroused for and against.

 

Any fresh look at the passion texts of the gospels might give rise to fresh questions about why we do this year after year, why congregations participating in the reading of the passion gospel are content as one person to cry out on cue, "Crucify him! Crucify him!"

 

Are we for the passion or against it? Is there not enough dying already that we have to glorify it the way we do, viz. in the humiliation of crucifixion and the death by asphyxiation or exposure it could and often did bring? We know now that it was customary -- as if anything associated with crucifixion could be said to be "customary" -- for the bodies of those hung up to be cut down and left for feral dogs to eat. Anybody for that?

 

Even for those who believe against all reason and logic that this Jesus person died to save them from the lethal wages of their sin, can anyone be for that kind of death?

 

Any religion worthy of the name and of the attention and participation of rational human beings needs to be about life and how to live it. Of course our word "passion" comes from the Latin passio, meaning "to suffer" or "to be acted upon." It was Hemingway, as it turns out, who said that acting was always to be preferred to being acted upon. So is the bull taunted and yet comes back for more until the fatal blow is struck.

 

That's the kind of death in the afternoon the Christian Passiontide should envision: a death -- if death it must be -- taken while standing in the act of resistance to and defiance of a power that is superior only because it is armed, not because it is more noble  ... or noble at all.

 

 

 

 

 

"Church" Without the Myths of the Blood Atonement and the Resurrection

 

By Harry T. Cook

 

In a previous article as part of FINDINGS' expansion, I discussed evidence that supports the hypothesis that the Jesus of the New Testament may be a composite character and, as such, the quasi-separate creations of the several evangelists. I wrote of the implications of such evidence, suggesting that, if the hypothesis held up in light of further research -- my own and that of others -- it need not spell the end of "church" as we know it.

 

Although, for Christian communities to enjoy any reputation of honesty, considerable alterations of their worship rituals and their texts would be required -- in particular with respect to the narratives of the crucifixion (and the resultant theologies of the blood atonement) as well as the resurrection. Ample evidence exists of thousands of crucifixions taking place in Judea during the times of Roman occupation. The canonical gospels depict criminals and robbers being crucified with the Jesus about which each evangelist writes.

 

Crucifixion, borrowed by Rome from both the Persians and the Phoenicians, was as much a tool of humiliation and intimidation as it was of execution. But the gospel writers, insofar as their Jesuses were concerned, appear considered it primarily one of execution. Earlier in the epoch, Paul chose to understand that execution to have been appropriated by the deity in whom he believed as the agent of human salvation as is said, for example, at Romans 5:6, Philippians 2:8 (part of what may have been an early hymn to the incarnation, though a great number of those who study this particular text disagree), Colossians 2:13-4 (perhaps not directly from Paul himself but from a close follower).  

The catholic churches adopted the Pauline understanding of the crucifixion so that in one of the Roman Eucharistic prayers the priest, holding the chalice aloft, says, "When supper was ended, he took the cup. Again he gave you thanks and praise, gave the cup to his disciples, and said, 'Take this, all of you, and drink from it, this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for many so that sins may be forgiven.' "

 

If there was more than one Jesus instead of the unitary one some think is seen in the gospels, one would have to ask which Jesus said those words, and why that Jesus and not another ends up being "the" Jesus. [Click here to download "Is the Jesus of the New Testament a Composite Character?: The Evidence and Its Implications."]

 

Therefore, should the evidence for a composite Jesus ever to become overwhelming and made part of the general study of scripture in graduate schools of theology and seminaries, many liturgical traditions, including those of the Roman, Orthodox and Anglican Communions, some branches of Lutheranism and mainline Protestant denominations -- would be affected.

 

To seek and maintain intellectual honesty, present liturgical texts and their understanding and interpretation would have to be treated as the language of myth (not at all a demotion in significance) to continue to be used on a regular basis. An example is how contemporary theater companies produce the plays, for example, of Sophocles, Aeschylus or Euripides using translations of original texts. The power of such drama often produces the catharsis it was meant to produce.

 

Grand opera -- for example: Mephistofele, Pell�as and M�lisande, Orpheus and Euridice, Tha�s and A�da -- are produced well into the 21st century without altering texts with the understanding that what is seen and heard is theater. A solemn high mass with appropriate music, vestments and liturgical deportment can also be understood as drama, not, in the particular case of the Roman rites, a re-enactment of human sacrifice.

 

The story borne by such a liturgical offering is, indeed, one of sacrifice. But because human society is by and large and long since done with human sacrifice -- certainly in the ritual sense -- the commentary that generally accompanies a eucharistic celebration, known as the homily, can be relied upon to set the acts and texts of the liturgy in a contemporary context. As the evangelists portrayed a Jesus willingly sacrificing his to save others from the same fate (see John 11:49-50 or John 3:16), so the homilist can point to the Jesus figure in the crucifixion narratives as a model for present-tense sacrifice as in the need for people to take poverty seriously (see Matthew 5:40/Luke 6:29) or to let go of self-pride (see Matthew 18:22/Luke 17:4), Matthew 5:44/Luke 6:27) and Matthew 7:12/Luke 6:31).

Already many congregations across the ecumenical and interfaith spectra conduct ongoing outreach ministries that are demanding of volunteer time and energy and considerable financial investment. And a good many of those congregations are strapped so that the costs of such collective ministries begin to outpace the availability of time and money. Here and there churches in cities with warmer climes have not spent the funds to air condition their buildings for the comfort of worshippers, preferring to spend them on direct aid and support of the disadvantaged in their communities. It is a stretch, of course, to compare such choices with the choice of actually and willingly offering up one's body to an executioner, yet it is the idea of putting the needs of others ahead of one's own needs and desires that may constitute sacrifice.

Yet, given the sense of sacrifice depicted in the mass by the above quoted text "Take this, all of you, and eat of it: for this is my body which will be given up for you; take this, all of you, and drink from it: for this is the chalice of my blood, the blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many so that sins may be forgiven," the language of any revised liturgy would need to touch at least on the themes of expiation and atonement -- the former being the act by which the latter is accomplished. The idea is to be made whole and to make whole.

 

It is safe to say that human wholeness is not a gift of destiny. Rather it is an achievement human beings gain from time to time through what they choose to do and choose not to do by way of respecting the dignity of others and the environment in which all live and move and have their being.

 

Atonement is more often thought of as compensating for a trespass against another person than it is in a more collective form -- not to say that person-to-person atonement is not important. Reconciliation by way of atonement with those individuals whom we have hurt is necessary as one-on-one relational dislocation affects the entire community. Judaism and Christianity in their various expressions are primarily communal religions. The raison d'etre of each is recognized in and by community.

 

That said, how can and should a community offer sacrifice by way of expiation and for what? One does not have to look far to see that for which society should atone: Income disparity made worse by malign partisan politics added to a sometimes willed ignorance on the part of haves of what the have-nots must endure; the despoiling of the environment to which anyone who drives an automobile with a gasoline-powered internal combustion engine contributes, the profligate consumption and the throwaway culture that aids and abets it.

 

Atonement for these cannot be made in the form of a general confession, or, for that matter, in the familiar sacrament of penance. Words and intentions will not suffice, meaning that a community whose members accept the reality of societal trespass upon the dignity of the economically defenseless as well as upon the fabric of Earth herself must mobilize for action.

 

Such communities will need to learn that the individuals who constitute them at a given time will not necessarily be parts of them ad infinitum, the implication being that ongoing education will be necessary to build a tradition of lasting sacrificial atonement in a communal, world-aware manner. The Hail Marys and Our Fathers of the past, mumbled for a cheap-grace penance after a mere five minutes in the confessional will be replaced with learning about what an intentional community can and should do to alleviate poverty and remediate the damage human beings have done to the environment. What will remain to be done is the actual effecting of alleviation and remediation.

 

The theory is that the church's liturgy is the substance of the community's life in the offering of which its people try to discern their place in the world, recognize the idea that they are important to each other and try to connect with whatever the source-origin of life may be. Either giving the established liturgical texts the interpretation mentioned above, or crafting news ones to more directly engage the people in their collective vocation as atoners will be required.

 

Where to turn for inspiration if new texts are to be composed? Here follow quotations from various sources that might serve as inspiration for the composition of such texts.

 

* * * * * 

 

The Church is catholic, universal, so are all her actions ... when she buries a man, that action concerns me; all [human]kind is of one author ... The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth ... Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world? No [one] is an island, entire of itself; every [one] is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were; any [one's] death diminishes me, because I am involved in [human]kind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.

-- John Donne, Devotions, Meditation XVII.

 

 

For I have learned

To look on nature, not as in the hour

Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes

The still, sad music of humanity,

Nor harsh, nor grating, though of ample power

To chasten and subdue. And I have felt

A presence that disturbs me with the joy

Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime

Of something far more deeply interfused,

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,

And the round ocean, and the living air,

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;

A motion and a spirit that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought,

And rolls through all things.

-- From Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth, 1798

 

 

Jesus, forgive my easy righteousness

When I lay claim, with such convenient speed

To small gains only got because you bless

And, in your love, anticipate my need.

Shall I exult if I can sometimes go,

Mustard-seed faithful, limping minus dread?

Or flaunt the unbarked shin, the unstubbed toe.

When you precede to sweep the paths I tread?

You have kept the faith; I fail at gratitude.

You dearly bought this crown I cheaply wear.

Humble me, Lord, amend my attitude,

And if it mean your rod then do not spare

            Teach me, dear Lord to keep your first great law:

            Add love to fear -- I would not fail at awe.

-- From To Jesus on the Rood (II) by Gary Frahm (1937-2002)

 

 

When I consider all those hands have done,

Which you stretched out before one world began,

To model planets, light the brilliant sun

And plant a home, a glorious home for man,

At times it seems you must have overwrought:

Things are more lovely than they have to be --

Lights, colors, shapes almost as afterthought,

And life in infinite variety.

Then, most Beloved, I see you hanging there

And know the natural world but does its duty:

Because it mirrors, therefore it is fair,

And things but witness to their Lover's beauty.

            What lovelier than Eden or a flood,

            And what more costly than your precious blood?

-- From To Jesus on the Rood (XIII) by Gary Frahm

 

 

To lose the earth you know, for greater knowing;

To lose the life you have, for greater life;

To leave the friends you loved, for greater loving;

To find a land more kind than home, more large than earth -

Whereon the pillars of this earth are founded,

Toward which the conscience of the world is tending -

A wind is rising, and the rivers flow.

-- From You Can't Go Home Again by Thomas Wolfe (1900-1938)

 

 

Where is my light, my light is in me,

My light is in me, and in you and in you.

Where is my hope, my hope is in me,

My hope is in me, and in you and in you.

-- By Sherwin T. Wine (1928-2007)




Copyright 2014 Harry T. Cook. All rights reserved. This article may not be used or reproduced without proper credit.
 

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