Friday, September 23, 2005

The Emperor Who Had No Clothes vs. God Clothed in Humanity (Getting to Know Jesus One Chapter at a Time, Part 17)

Remember the story of the emperor who had no clothes? A victim of his own ego and the meaningless words of worshipful sycophants, the emperor, certain he was wearing some fine attire, was actually buck naked. It wasn't until one "naive" boy told the truth, that everyone else admitted that the emperor was wearing no clothing.

Down through the centuries, "emperors"--whether they've been kings, jocks, or pop stars-- people who've seemed clothed in power, have proven to be naked. Or, at least, they've proven to possess far less power than they once seemed to have.

In a way, this is true of virtually anyone who wields power or influence. "Power," a wise Political Science professor of mine used to say, "is what people think you have." That's why the smartest wielders of power usually imply rather than actually use force. But the naked use of force--a telling phrase in light of the story of the emperor who had no clothes--often exposes vulnerabilities that prove the undoing of the powerful.

The problem is that power, or the perception of power, is addicting. Those perceived to be powerful will, in order to prove that they are worthy of that perception, do things against their wills and in so doing, actually prove their powerlessness.

Take Herod in the opening verses of chapter 14 in Matthew's Gospel. This is Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great, who was on the Judean throne at the time of Jesus' birth. When Herod the Great died in 4 B.C., the land over which he "reigned" was divided among his three sons.

His dominion included Galilee, from which Jesus came. Formally speaking, Herod wasn't really a king, though some called him that. It was part of his pretense of power. His title, in fact, was tetrarch, a term that roughly means governor.

But even that designation was a bit of a stretch. The real rulers of Judea were the Romans. Rome simply found it convenient to allow the vicious Herodian line to remain as figurehead rulers. They thought it somewhat blunted the offensiveness to Judeans of being ruled by foreign conquerors to have some locals look like they were in charge.

Herod nonetheless liked to pretend he was a king. We see that in Matthew 14:1-12. Herod is throwing a party. At that time, John the Baptist, Jesus cousin, is detained in a prison cell at Herod's orders.

As our text tells us, John was imprisoned because he had told Herod, ostensibly the heir of the Davidic throne of God's chosen people Israel, that Herod's marriage was illegitimate. As one book explains it:
Herodias was a granddaughter of Herod the Great. She married Herod's son Philip, who was her uncle. Once when Herod Antipas was visiting in Philip's house in Rome, he talked Herodias into leaving Philip and marrying him.
The whole business sounds pretty creepy to me. But it was more than creepy. Specific portions of God's law in the Old Testament forbade a man from marrying his brother's wife while that brother was still alive.

Herodias hated John the Baptist. But because of the support John had among the public and perhaps because he knew John was in the right, Herod hadn't done anything against him.

At the party though, probably inebriated, Herod, pleased with a dance done by Herodias' daughter, vows to give the girl anything she wants. At her mother's behest, the girl makes a grisly request: She wants John the Baptist's head on a platter.

The king felt trapped. He didn't want to kill John. But he had made his promise. To fail to have John executed would show him to not only dishonorable when it came to his vows, but also impotent to do his will within his domain. He feared being seen as the emperor with no clothes. But in his very acquiescence to the girl's request, he showed his impotence. One of the most pathetic character portraits of all history is presented in a passage recounting these events:
"Unwilling to lose face with his guests, he did it--ordered John's head cut off and presented to the girl on a platter."
What a contrast to Herod is presented in the next bit of narrative we find in Matthew 14. Jesus miraculously feeds five thousand men, plus their families. Jesus is shown to be the powerful God of the universe in this and the succeeding narration.

Jesus' miracles are usually referred to in the Greek of the New Testament as signs. Signs aren't shows of power that point to themselves. They point to something else. That's certainly true of this sign. It points to several things.

First: It points to Jesus as God. It is God, after all, who provides our daily bread. As Psalm 145 puts it:
"All eyes are on You, expectant; you give them their meals on time." (Psalm 145:15)
Second: It points to the authenticity of Jesus' power. Even the best of worldly rulers must use coercion. But God's dominion is expressed in generous giving.

There was a forcefulness in Jesus' gentle use of heaven's power for human good that was utterly unique.

It's why those who heard Him preach, though He didn't threaten them or employ religious legalism, were astounded because he taught not like the preachers of their day, but "as one with authority," an authority intrinsic to His nature and bearing and not rooted in the coercive use of force.

It's why, at the moment when some might have deemed Jesus proven fraudulent in His claim of being the "King of kings," a Roman soldier who observed Jesus die on the cross, "This was surely the Son of God."

Third: It demonstrates the selflessness of God as distinguished from the selfishness of human rulers.

Fourth: It shows that His power is greater than that of Herod...or even of the occupying Romans. It certainly can't be a coincidence that the number of men fed here immediately following the account of Herod's impotence as a ruler is the number that would have made up a Roman legion. If, as Napoleon famously said, an army marches on its stomach, then Jesus shows Himself capable of sustaining a mighty army, one fed with the living bread of heaven.

This incident also shows an attribute of the disciples that we'll see played out in the very next narrative account. They lack the imagination that goes with faith.

Through faith, we're empowered to so trust the God we meet in Jesus Christ that we're able to imagine things going differently or positively. We dare to believe, for example, that death is not the end of our stories. We dare to believe that in spite of the truth we know about ourselves, God can forgive our sins and count us worthy of eternity with Him. We dare to believe too, that God can enter even the worst of circumstances and bring good out of them. The person of faith is empowered to imagine good things.

But the disciples are portrayed as wanting to send the crowds of people away. After all, they only have five loaves of bread and two fishes among them. But Jesus says, in effect, "So what!" "Bring them here," He orders the disciples and then He feeds the throng.

We see this same lack of imaginative faith in the next incident, found in Matthew 14:22-36. During a stormy night, the disciples see Jesus walk on the surface of the Galileean lake.

One of the facile things we preachers do as we talk about incidents involving Jesus' disciple, Peter, is make him the foil for disparaging remarks about his faith.

It should be said about this incident and others involving Peter that the reason he fails so miserably is that he tries so much. He may not trust Jesus enough to keep walking on the waves. But He was the only one among these twelve key followers of Jesus to exercise the imagination of faith required to step out of the boat and walk toward His Lord in the first place.

I've got to admit that more often than I care to admit or realize, in my faith life, I've paid more attention to the adverse, seemingly impossible circumstances around me than I have to the Lord Who loves me as I am and promises to empower me in doing His will in my life. In a way, I wish that I were more like Peter, willing to get out of the boat and follow Jesus.

But no matter how puny my faith is, it's invested in the big God revealed in Jesus. Like those imperfect disciples, I can say to Him, "This is it! You are God's Son for sure!"

Check out the previous installments of this series:

Long-Awaited Savior

Scholars from the East

The Freedom to Be Weird

This is a Test

Trusting What You Can't See

The Theme Taken to Its Ultimate Expression
Happiness

Explicating the Beatitudes...and More

Authenticity and Trust

Jesus' Radical Ethics

Friend of the Outcasts...

The Conflict Deepens

Guidelines for Loving the World for Christ

No More Religion!

The Subversive God

Stories About the Kingdom]

No comments: