define 'anointed'. . .

What is christology?

This was the question posed to me by a friend the other night. It is also the topic of most of the theology books I am reading right now. I mean, it sounds simple enough right. -ology being the study of, would imply that christology is the study of Christ. This was the answer I loosely gave, "It's the study of Jesus and who he is." I said this because it seemed like such an obvious question, which when posed so bluntly, pointed out to me that I had no answer for it. I was stumped. This was quite sad to me as I am currently 500 pages into a book dedicated purely to the topic. So, let me begin this post by saying that my answer on the spot was ultimately wrong in just about every way.

The truth is that christology deals with Jesus only indirectly. Essentially christology is the study of the "christ-concept", which existed long before and continued long after Jesus.

Multiple hundreds of years before Jesus was born Judaism was formulating the concept of the Messiah, the Christ. Now the original words mean "annointed one", which brings to mind the image of the king of any country being annointed with oil. When I say any country, I do in fact mean that, as Cyrus of the Persians was referred to as a christ or messiah. So, therefore, the messiah was not a concept that even specifically referred to a Jewish king. But, to the Jews who lost their king on being exiled to Babylon the idea of a Jewish annointed one came to the fore. The idea of the messiah began a steady evolution over the course of time.

I have no intent to delineating the evolution of the idea of the 'messiah/christ', if you care to know, I can recommend a good book to you . . . only be ready to dedicate a few month to it. Instead, I wish to point out how the concept of the Christ did not descend once for all from heaven. It was an idea that began in certain historical circumstances, and that evolved as circumstances changed. The literature written between the Old and New Testaments, which we rarely hear of, gives evidence to the difference in messianic expectation between certain Greek rulers to Roman rulers and everything in between.

By the time we get to Jesus' era, the most striking thing is the wide variety of christ concepts available. We can see the Davidic Christ who was supposed to lead the people to drive out Roman oppressors and elevate Israel to a world power. We can also see the Priestly Christ in the line of Moses. There is the ontological Enoch-christ referred to as the 'son of man', who comes to judge the world. The list could go on. There is actually a staggering multiplicity of diverse ideas as to what the Christ would be, what he would look like.

The thing is that many of these christ-traditions that precede the birth of Jesus, or at least the writing of the New Testament, account for the various claims made of him. For instance one vein of thought claimed that the Christ was actually a final prophet of God who was united with the eternal Wisdom of God. In Greek this eternal Wisdom would be referred to as the Logos. Notice the Christ prophet is not eternal, but rather becomes the dwelling place, the residence of the eternally existing Wisdom/Logos of God. Or let's take the Moses-christ tradition. Many years before Jesus was born the idea was coming about that the christ would not be a military leader, but a religious/spiritual leader. Therefore the christ's purpose would not be to liberate the people for their oppressors, but to connect them more deeply to God. For Jews this would quite naturally happen via the Law, so the christ becomes the true interpreter of the Law. So, decades later when his followers set to record why they call him the Christ the adopt this strand of thought that existed long before their master was born, to describe who he is. They set down his teaching to reveal the ultimate interpretation of the Law in one particular sermon. They say this sermon occured on 'the Mount', which the vast majority of scholars will say is not fact but a round-about way of saying he fulfilled the mosaic-christ expectation of being the ultimate interpreter of the Law.

The problem this has led me to see, is that we are taught to say that 'Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God'. This is the core of faith so we are told. The problem with this pithy saying is that in its original context, people would have said, "Sure, but so was Enoch, Samuel, Judas Maccabees, and Bar Kochba, each in their own way." The core of our faith doesn't really reveal what was unique about Jesus. In his time there was a staggering variety of interpretation concerning the meaning of being 'the christ'. Since there was no uniform concept, there was no uniform understanding of what being the christ meant.

How funny then that we have built up this religion called "christ-ianity", and that we form an exclusive social grouping of "christ-ians". We unite around the idea that Jesus is God's Christ, annointed one. We act in every respect as though Jesus holds exclusive rights to this title, and ignore the fact that the title and the concepts it employs were borrowed from a culture that had many christs before and many christs after Jesus, and sometimes is still found to be holding out for the final Messiah. The truth is that in world history God has had a plethora of sons and christs. Many have claimed such titles with a sense of legitimacy within a particular, unique cultural understanding of the titles.

The significance of Jesus is not in the fact that he is called Christ, nor the Son of God. These are pre-existing titles borrowed by early followers to express what they exprience in the man. This is what christology reveals to us. The concept of 'christ' precedes Jesus, includes him, and extends beyond him to many others after he came. Jesus is not unique for being called Christ. Yet the use of the titles gives us windows to the significance of Jesus in the eyes of the earliest followers. Beyond the framework of language we can discern a man whose life revealed, and reveals God in an entirely unique and profound way. Essentially the significance of Jesus is God. It is not the position (title) which God places him in, nor his relationship to God, but that God himself is somehow perceived in Jesus. In Jesus, the man from Nazareth, we witness God clarifying himself.

I wonder how many see the christ religion which has been built up around a title, a mere word, and thus reject not only this religion but also the man who was much more than a concept, or more imporantly the God who actively revealed his heart in this Jesus. I lament that too often it seems that we have packaged Jesus of Nazareth and thus the God who reveals himself through Jesus, inside this christ concept. People reject the packaging and miss out on the treasure inside, and unfortuately I feel as though the packaging is largely unecessary. The good news is not that Jesus is the Christ or the Son of God, but that God revealed himself through Jesus. The gospel is not that Jesus is the divine Christ calling shots on God's behalf. The protagonist of the story is God, always and without fail. It is God who acts. Jesus is the perfect case study by which we come to understand God. All the titles and interpretations we confer on Christ should only serve us to perceive God more. The purpose of all faith is to unite us to this Ineffable Reality and Ultimate Unity that we call God. It is not the Divine Christ that does this, but the remembered man of Nazareth. In this way I see him as greater than all his titles.

Jesus with a can of spray paint

I drove around the Metroplex today, hoping to find a non-corporate coffee shop to support. They were all closed. Somewhere in the quest for coffee not offered to the goddess of Seattle, I found myself at a traffic light staring down a causeway at the skyline. In some theological/philosophical sense skylines really mess me up. The jagged spires are in a way containers for basically all that I find ugly about the city. The tallest structures of a cities core generally contain corporate offices, banks, and law firms. All institutions which I don’t hold in the highest regard. Now we also find lofts mingling their way into higher air space; lofts which house the legions of young professionals who’s lives have been enlisted to the anonymous commercial machines they live between. Sometimes I think of this when I drive around a big city. Sometimes. But, more often I just take in the grandeur of it all and feel strangely blessed. I felt it again today. I stared wide-eyed at the varied planes of architectural creativity.

I guess I feel a tension in the belonging of the city. Cities have a way of making one feel like they are part of something, even when we come to despise what we are a part of. Apart from all the ills of repression and hatred endemic to the city, there is still a beauty to it all.

My friend went on a date the other day. In the middle of this romantic endeavor he was approached by a homeless man. After persistently assuring the man he would not give him money, he invited the man to talk, which the man finally accepted. A short-lived relationship was formed, and I imagine both were more human for it. I think it gave me hope just to hear it. As we all stand beneath these man-made mountains, with their anonymous forces that entrap us all, we are all still human at our core. For all the rigid legalities, and ideological entrapments the city presents we all still long to be human in the fullest sense that the word lends itself to. For all the ghosts underneath the steal and concrete, there is even more of a spirit, creative and gentle. It cries out continually from the depths of everyones heart, from the part of us that refuses to amount to a bank account and social security number.

It amazes me how much of the arts have their origin in city . . . among the lower classes. In music we can see that blues and jazz originated primarily among blacks in the American South. Artists are reputed to starve and their fame comes long after their death. Theater, independent movies, writers, poets, all rarely come from the upper classes. There is something in the life of a city that breeds creativity. Decades later the wealthy write out checks for absurd sums of money purchasing such works. Almost as though wealth in itself is devoid of meaning, so meaningfulness must be purchased. Barns are filled with artifacts that seem to give importance and depth to the life of the rich. Meanwhile lower classes go on creatively, sacrificially producing beauty.

I find it funny how “civilization” on the whole takes life from this phenomenon, and yet simultaneously holds it back. We create museums to hold paintings and sculptures. We charge $10 dollars to go see the expressions of by-gone ages, while blocks away teenagers from impoverished areas are arrested for “defacing” the blank walls of condemned buildings with graffiti. I saw a graffiti mural the other day and thought how beautiful it was. The poor of the city denying that their existence will be a blank wall. Their mural was a caricature of Ghandi with a quote by him about peace. I compare that with a modernist piece noted by its existential hopelessness prominently placed in the museum across the highway. On one hand I love that such feelings can be expressed in such a lucid form. But, how odd is it that we uphold such despondent expression as central to what it is to be “cultured”, while blocks away the culture that naturally arises from the ranks of the poor is punished with fines and jail time? As is often the case, the voice of the poor is whitewashed; blanked out by history.

I don’t suppose I can speak adequately for the poor or for the rich, as I don’t truly belong to either ‘side’. I’ve grown up in the endangered social grouping of middle class America. I guess I conveniently suppose that Jesus grew up in a middle class family. That’s a debatable assumption I know. Yet, it’s one that allows me to wonder how I could go about life in a meaningful way. Jesus didn’t appear to side with rich or poor exclusively. But, it does appear he preferred to live among the poor, and tended to favor their company more. I’ve frequently heard this as carrying deep theological significance, and while not denying those as possible, I wonder sometimes if it wasn’t simply that the life of the poor can often seem so much richer. This is a generality that is not universal, but one that quite often seems to be true. The rich hold up great works of art. They place them in museums, surrounded by guards and cameras. The museum environment can seem so sterile. There is a dogmatic propriety that floats thickly in the air in museums. It is as though the painted rags and chiseled rocks have been given a religious authority that requires our reverence. We hear the names of artists as though we were in the sacred presence of saints. These relics before us become the iconic presence of the gods of culture.

I certainly don’t mean to sound as though I dislike art. I generally have a lot of fun going to museums, but I think we have been fed a lie in our society concerning art. Art in our world has come to be judged by standards of privilege. Art is purported to be something contained and rare. We are told that “good” art is somehow scarce, and thus it becomes the duty of the appreciative rich to keep it from the destructive hands of the poor. The canvas rags become invested with the interests of the powerful of society. It becomes a value commodity because it is invested with power.

Were we to give the Mona Lisa to a lower class family with no strings attached, I imagine it would probably find a prominent place on some wall in their house. Yet over time it might get scratched by moving furniture. If it were close to a window it might get sun-bleached. As time goes on, this famed piece of art would decay and eventually be destroyed. And, for all it’s historical significance, being a turning point in artistic consciousness and three dimensional representation, it is really famous because the upper class hold it to be one of the most valuable pieces of art in the world. I highly doubt that the majority of people who make the pilgrimage to the Louvre every year really have any in depth understanding of why the works there are of importance, only that this is where cultured people go to say they are cultured. The thing that I’m trying to point out is that this religion of culture that has arisen is one that serves the interest of the upper classes of Western society. By participating in this religion, one gains potential for power and privilege in the society of people who adhere to it. It is like an anonymous church that so many attend hoping to move ahead.

Then we go to the ghetto and try and talk about the statue of David, and receive no power but only looks ranging from ambivalence to a lustful hatred, and we wonder why. Ultimately I think it because we are speaking of a “church” that has rejected and hated the poor. We are speaking of a society that has used this religion of culture to keep the poor in their place, after all these are people who show no appreciation for such ‘divine’ beauty. Consider how many millions of dollars are spent on cleaning and preserving the paintings which some frivolous rich people have estimated are worth millions of dollars to preserve. To an inner-city resident, working 80 hours a week at two jobs which barely pay the bills that must sound like blasphemy. When you work like a slave for a job you hate, your sense of beauty is quite different than one who makes millions of dollars by simply shifting a few stocks and make some executive decision to make benefit cuts on the many workers you manage who work 80 hours a week for your company.

The saddest thing I see in our society is the way that the beauty intrinsic to the poor is discredited and repressed. They are told that their art is nothing, that if they want to get anywhere they must emulate what they see in museums. They must seek to create what can be sold to collect dust on the empty walls of rich people’s mansions.

I think about hip-hop, a cultural phenomena that came out of the inner-city which sought to display the culture intrinsic to them. It was no carbon-copy of upper class values, but a cultural display of the hopes and thoughts of the city’s less privileged members. It was a different religion. Music was liberated. Instead of expensive instruments, all that was needed was one to beat-box and one to come up with rhymes. The empty and hopeless walls of abandoned buildings were spray-painted to express the values of the poor.

I think Jesus would have gone to museums from time to time. I think he could have easily appreciated the beauty of what is there. But, I doubt he would have felt much at home. I doubt he would return with frequency. I think instead we could see him roaming the ‘less fortunate’ areas, staring at a graffiti mural and thinking how wonderful it was, thinking how good it is that people can find their own song to sing.

Maybe I can see how there is no hope in hatred between social classes. There’s plenty of that already and it doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. If there’s hope for the world then I think it starts in the city, and that hope starts with the less privileged majority finding the culture that comes from among them. This is no revolution, as revolutions are a certain means to achieve more of the same, but simply a means of bringing out what is indelibly part of being human. This is how things change.

I think of how funny it is that the majority of rap albums in America are bought by middle to upper class teenagers. Ironic. I think it is quite common that the rich tend to belatedly “come down”.

I talked with another friend not too long ago about the concept I often hear voiced that “the rich need Jesus too.” My friend who is the pastor of a church where I live, commented how ridiculous it was that while this line of thinking may be true, it is the same line of thinking that is universal among churches in America. Even the poor churches are quietly hoping to tap into the “wealthy” demographic. And in this way church has lost its inheritance.

The church IS the movement of the poor, and insofar as it remains true to that, the rich will long to join it. I think Jesus, who it seems to me was more comfortable among the intrinsic depth of the lower class than the depth purchase by those higher up, will always remain among the poor. We seek him among the great cathedrals in europe, the commercial mega-churches in the suburbs, at mountainside summer camps, in spiritual journeys, but instead of him we find the hollow god of culture. I think Jesus is instead somewhere in the ghetto, at a family bar-b-que, at a neighborhood basketball court, or hurriedly leaving a message of hope illegally on an abandoned wall. Reminding the less fortunate, if only for a brief second, that the hope of God is there’s; that culture is no gift of the rich, but a grace which costs them nothing. There is no admission fee.

I’m excited to be moving back to the city. But, for all the beauty of the skyline, I’m hoping, this time, to find the beauty just beyond the reach of the shadows of sky scrapers. For all I’ve learned, I’ll be looking, with the hope that hope will find me.