Ian Hodge
A number of years ago I read the book Surprised by Hope by NT Wright, and in these days there’s a line that I keep thinking of.
Wright describes what he calls the “myth of progress,” or the idea that given enough time the tools of science and reason will bring a positive solution to every problem and every question.
This way of thinking was largely exposed as overly optimistic (to put it mildly) by the events of the 20th century, but the truth is that it still hangs on in many ways today.
“Many people, particularly politicians and secular commentators in the press and elsewhere, still live by this myth, appeal to it, and encourage us to believe it. Indeed (if I may digress for a moment), one might suggest that the demise of serious political discourse today consists not least in this, that the politicians are still trying to whip up enthusiasm for their versions of this myth – it’s the only discourse they know, poor things – while the rest of us have moved on.” (Wright, Surprised by Hope, 2007, 93).
But Wright is wrong on one point; most of us haven’t really moved on from this myth of progress. We believe that if only our candidate can win, we’ll move closer to a golden age, or deeper into it if our party continues to be in charge.
With our vote we encourage our politicians (and others) to keep making these outrageous promises. This myth of progress still applies, as long as “our people” are in charge. Don’t get me wrong – I am neither a cynic, nor do I intend to convince you to be. I do believe that things can and should be better than they are today. What I am arguing is that we’re looking to the wrong place to bring those improvements on.
The problem is that we tend to believe that the best path toward a brighter future is power – the ability to dominate others and/or get your way. On the one hand we claim not to want it, we put on a good show that we believe power is a dirty thing and should be despised rather than prized.
But our actions tell a different story. If “our people” aren’t in the halls of overt power and influence, wherever and whatever that office or position might be, we see a bleak future. If “our people” do have these sorts of power, it’s easy to play it down while believing that finally things will turn out the way that they should.
And yet they haven’t. Your party or your candidates have won any number of elections, yet here we are (or there we will be again if your preferred option is currently in power).
History proves it over and over again – great leaders are followed by terrible leaders, parties come in and out of power, and the classic errors of the past are repeated over and over again; the Roman republic is replaced by autocracy until that too withers and even Rome falls (and if you know your history, deservedly so, no matter the bizarre admiration of the Renaissance and Enlightenment).
There is a different way. There is a different sort of power to be exercised. It’s the power of strength through weakness. It’s the power of love even for enemies. It’s the power of serving rather than being served. In the Christian telling of the story of the world the great power, God himself, abandons his rights and privileges, emptying himself of them and the God-like exercise of power, to himself become powerless, anonymous, and a servant. The language of the Bible even describes him as becoming, in essence, a slave (e.g., Philippians 2:7).
As God himself abandons power and influence on his own terms in the person of Jesus Christ, he sets himself to love. Instead of running to the halls of power in Jerusalem or Rome, he instead teaches in fields and the houses of his friends.
Instead of making friends with the influential to advance his agenda, he eats with outcasts. Instead of being noticed by the wealthy and powerful, he heals anonymous lepers and women with bleeding disorders.
Why does this matter? When Augustus Caesar died the Roman Senate had him declared divine. Enormous temples were built for the worship of Augustus; I myself have seen the great temple to Augustus in Pergamum. And yet, there are no worshipers of Augustus left.
All his temples are in ruins, and his empire long since cast on the ash heap. For all his power, for all his armies, for all his shrewdness of leadership and the acclamation of the people of the ancient world, Augustus’ power has evaporated.
And yet the anonymous Jesus, from an anonymous village in what was the backwater of the world’s great empire – his followers now number in the billions. The way of domination, of getting your way, of bombs and bullets, these may win the day… but only the day.
Bombs and bullets invite more bombs and bullets, anger and fury invite more anger and fury, domination demands revolution. But the way of power through weakness, of love and service doesn’t close the heart of the one on the receiving end.
And it doesn’t require office or position nor is it reserved for the influential. Jesus showed the way, and anyone trusting a different way isn’t living the way of Jesus.
Ian Hodge is pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Carson City.