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What Have the Last Four Years Accomplished? And What Have They Revealed?
Guest Post by Rich Lusk
“The old alliances are dead.”
– Theoden
“The world is changed…
I feel it in the water…
I feel it in the Earth…
I smell it in the air….Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it.”
— Galadriel
“Our list of allies grows thin.”
— Elrond
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”
— Gandalf
“The West has failed.”
— Denethor
Now that the Trump era is over, at least as far as his Presidency is concerned, it’s worth taking a look back at what happened in the 4+ years that he dominated the political and cultural landscape. I am convinced that Trump himself is nowhere near the most important thing that has happened. Rather, Trump exposed and accelerated trends that were already in motion. The Trump era brought to the surface and revealed many things that had been hidden from view. This has been an apocalyptic moment in American history.
I am most interested in what has happened to the evangelical and Reformed church context in which I am a pastor, but that cannot be considered apart from the political trends that have generated so much discussion and division.
Obviously, and understandably, Trump was a very divisive figure. His foibles, real and imaginary, are well known because we have been bombarded with them 24/7 for years now. There is no question he is something of an egomaniac, and could often be his own worst enemy. Policy-wise, he was generally conservative and should be applauded for many things he did (e.g., building a strong economy until COVID hit, gaining energy independence, removing the nation from entangling alliances, taking seriously the China threat, brokering Middle East peace deals, etc.) as well as things he did not do (e.g., no new wars, respecting states rights in regard to COVID responses, etc.). But I do not think Trump himself is the most important barometer of the church’s health at this point — indeed, far from it. While it is virtually impossible for me to reconcile any kind of support for Biden/Harris with Christian faith, I can certainly understand why many Christians have been reluctant to throw their support behind Trump. Frankly, I can sympathize with many of the criticisms of Trump that came from the “never Trump” camp….until I consider what the alternatives to Trump were. Making a Christian case that Trump has serious issues is not that hard to do. Making a Christian case that he is somehow worse than the alternatives that were available to us is virtually impossible — and “never Trumpers” never seemed to grasp that. Making a case against Trump is not the same as making a case for the Democrat options (or any other available options), which is what “never Trumpers” needed to do. “Never Trumpers” failed to develop any kind of alternative vision to Trump, even at a theoretical level. Nevertheless, they continued to cast aspersions on Christian and conservative Trump supporters. But this was an entirely unhelpful strategy. Caring about the political realm and expressing patriotic convictions are not necessarily signs of idolatry and voting for Trump in ’16 or ’20 does not necessarily mean one has sold his soul to the devil; indeed one can argue it was the best and most prudent course of action. But, again, how Christians feel about Trump is NOT the best litmus test for where we are anyway. So what is?
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Cursed Cursing
Guest Post by John Unger
Everywhere and in almost every conversation that one might hear these days, whether in public discourse or on social media, the F- word appears. A generation ago, this curse was rarely employed, and when used publicly, would not only astonish and appall the hearers but also bring shame and dishonor on the speaker for his brazen vulgarity. In the passing decades, the employment of this curse became more common and in vogue, its use coming to be called “dropping an F-bomb”, which startles the hearers with its bold force and brashness.
In the last several years however, the F-word has become more commonplace, permeating daily life and discourse. Rather than a “shock and awe” megaton shell falling from the sky, it has morphed into constant, random, rapid gunfire, read and heard in social media interaction, public television, and casual discourse. On streets, in stores, restaurants, buses, malls, etc., it matters not the age, sex, region, race, sexual orientation, education, status, title, ad infinitum: the F-word truly is an equal-opportunity curse word. In print, the oft-attempted replacement of letters in the word – #### – fails to mask our cultural comfort level with this once-shunned curse word, and its near-ubiquitous use at present. Even our President in a recent speech employed the F-word, in an overtly macho attempt to communicate the high stakes involved in attacking America.
Historically (in the Christian West at least), the cursing of someone or something usually contained a reference to God and the eternal realm, as in “God damn ***!”, or “Damn ***!”, or someone might pronounce, “Go to hell!” upon another, or simply invoke the name “Jesus Christ!” in expressing their anger at a situation, thing, or person. The employment of “hell”, “God” or “Jesus” in cursing demonstrates that even in our folly and anger, we intuitively know and have sense enough to call upon a heavenly God and Jesus Christ as the Sovereign Lord and Creator, Who owns and judges all men and all things. Even in suppressing our knowledge of God (Rom. 1:18), we invoke Him to vindicate our personal cause and make things right for us – however twisted and wicked our desires might be, in our moments of anger and pride.
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Should Churches Meet During COVID-19?” Part 3
By Joel Nelson, Guest Series
Christian Liberty and Witness to the World
Scripture teaches that even as much as something may be permitted within the context of Christian liberty, it is not always wise or profitable to exercise that liberty. Galatians 5:13-14 teaches, “…Do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” And four times in Paul’s first epistle to the Corinthians he writes, “All things are lawful for me, but…” Even though permitted, there are times where it does not build up, edify, or show love to a neighbor by exercising a particular freedom. Is the freedom to conduct civil disobedience in this case, by worshiping as a physical, corporate body (as opposed to scattered individuals and families joined only in a spiritual or technological sense) a situation where it is permissible, but not profitable due to the potential negative witness or “stumbling block” to nonchristian neighbors and passers-by?
To properly address this concern, we must begin with what is clear and then progress to interpreting wisely the unclear. The clear command is not to neglect to meet together, per Hebrews 10:24-25: “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” This command was given in the face of war and impending distress. And this is not an isolated, one-off command that is only applicable in this context, but rather the instruction throughout the Old and New Testament to the covenant community.[i]
“Death Has Lost Its Sting”
Can these commands to meet together as a community be set aside for an undefined, but limited time, such as for the plague or a pandemic or even a viral outbreak with an all-ages case fatality rate far under one percent? There are arguably instances where there would be wisdom in considering the option of temporarily doing so— as long as all ministry activities were not suspended. The historical record of the church, including the writings of many of the Protestant Reformers, does give precedent for this. But these measures should be temporary, with a clear end, and reserved for truly dangerous circumstances. It is one thing to consider whether to “go aside” for a time to avoid waves of plague with a death rate of over 30%, but another matter entirely to also do so for recurring seasonal viruses. As previously noted in this essay, during severe plagues many pastors, bishops, deacons, and even Christian laypeople did not go into hiding but rather displayed remarkable courage in the face of death. The basis for such courage is the resurrection of Jesus Christ: because of the resurrection, death has lost its sting (1 Cor. 15:55). As the apostle Paul wrote, if there is no resurrection— if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain, our faith is in vain— then we are of all people most to be pitied (1 Cor. 15:14-19). But since Christ has in fact been raised from the dead as the firstfruits, then the eventual destruction of death is certain (1 Cor. 15:20-26). It is this confidence that has given Christians the courage to face lions, hostile kings, persecution, plagues, and more throughout history. Death is not the ultimate end for those who belong to Christ.
As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, Jesus “must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:25-26). The Biblical record is clear that the resurrected Christ has overcome death and will destroy death, and Christians have the confidence that this will happen. But modern societies do not have the confidence that this will happen. Kimbell Kornu has noted that modern medicine is thus attempting to overcome death by the scientific method, by exalting man’s domination over nature until man himself becomes the final object of dominion (Theopolis Conversations, May 2020). Exhibiting this lack of confidence, when reminded of the risk of death, of man’s fragility, even kings and rulers cower and hide. In the face of this fear, many of mankind’s terrified responses end up resembling little more than pagan rituals, technologically-advanced versions of rain dances until rain finally falls, self-flagellation until the pestilence ends, sacrificing the weakest so that victory over an invading tribe may be won, or wearing talisman objects until the harvest is safely brought in. The viral outbreak of 2020 has revealed the primal terrors of an unconverted world, whose technological and scientific advances were supposed to be its lord and savior but whose gods failed. It is as C.S. Lewis warned: each new power won by man is a power over man as well. Like the Midianite army before Gideon’s 300 men, terror incites men to attack the one thing they still have some semblance of power over: other men.
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Should Churches Meet During COVID-19?”, Part 2
By Joel Nelson, Guest Series
Purpose of Weekly Church Gatherings
The Body of Christ is called not to imitate the practices of the world, including its darkness and fears, but rather to walk as children of light to try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord, and to take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness but instead expose them (Eph. 5:9-11). The cultural contrast necessitated by walking in the light, and exposing the works of darkness, may be uncomfortable. It may be foreign, even shocking to the sensibilities of those outside the church. This should be expected when two cultures collide. But even so, some may question whether it is prudent or appropriate for this contrast to be exhibited during a time of societal upheaval. Specifically, when the rest of society comes to a standstill and goes indoors out of fear of contagion, should the church situated in today’s world follow society’s lead and also retreat, or should it continue to meet to worship, sing and pray? We will now focus on this question.
For context, the arguments in this essay are predicated upon specific assumptions regarding the church, its union with Christ, and its position in the world.[i] It is assumed throughout this essay that the primary purpose of weekly assembled gatherings of the covenant people of God is worship, not evangelism to nonchristians. Within this context, evangelism takes the form of members of the church body going out from the weekly assembly to the world to witness and evangelize. Thus, the purpose of the assembled gathering is not primarily that of outreach, or attracting those outside to come in. Rather, as Jeff Meyers wrote in The Lord’s Service, it is a family gathering for access to the sanctuary.
In fact, within this assembly of the baptized covenant community, the assembled saints before YHWH’s throne may be so counter-cultural, so unique compared to ordinary society and civic gatherings, that the unbeliever who enters may be “convicted by all, called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed, and so, falling on his face, he will worship God and declare that God is really among you” (1 Cor. 14:24-25). The nature, format, even style of the corporate assembly is modeled on heavenly patterns, not on the whims and styles of contemporary cultural practices (whether legislative assemblies or modes of entertainment such as “TED Talks” or music concerts). It follows, then, that the culture of that assembly will not be congruous to outside cultural practices as well. Peter Leithart notes in The Baptized Body that “the church, as the body of Christ made up of baptized believers, is a separate culture, a separated and holy people” from that of the surrounding world. And as a separate culture, rather than a religious organization within an existing culture, “it has its own internal political and social configuration, its own language, rites, and disciplines.” As such, “what will outsiders think of our worship practices” ought not to be the deciding factor or overarching concern of the local church body.
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“Should Churches Meet During COVID-19?”, Part 1
By Joel Nelson, Guest Series
Introduction
The one-two punch of the global COVID-19 outbreak will result in the year 2020 being remembered as one of the most divisive and life-changing years in at least two generations. Old customs and established procedures slipped away in a matter of days in March 2020, and only eight months later seem almost entirely forgotten by some. Many seem to welcome these developments, viewing the dismantling of what once existed as a blank slate for construction of a new world order. The use of the word “unprecedented” to justify all manner of societal changes and suspension of long-held legal and sociopolitical traditions in the year 2020, is, for lack of a better word, unprecedented. The response of many churches during the last eight months largely mirrors the rest of society: either a complete shutdown and move to “virtual” meetings reliant on electronic devices and high-speed Internet connections, or implementation of measures such as so-called “social distancing” and mandatory imposition of face coverings (the vast majority of which, aside from some medical-grade N95 respirators, have little ability to filter viral particles which are measured in nanometers). The purpose of this essay is not to critique these changes on political or medical grounds, but rather to address the church’s response to government edicts and orders. Specific consideration will be given to the mission and witness of the church, present and historical, and the challenges imposed by government edicts and orders.
Historical Accounts
This essay will first consider several historical accounts of how Christians have responded to prior plagues and pandemics. The historical record reveals many instances in which, during past plagues (with a death toll much greater than that of COVID-19), the church stood out for its resolve to keep going about her mission even as societies effectively shut down. The church historian Eusebius cited a letter written by Dionysius, Bishop of Alexandria, regarding the witness of Christians in contrast to pagans during a fifteen-year plague in the third century:
“Many terrible things happened to us also before this. At first we were driven out, persecuted, and killed, but we kept our festival even then… But the brightest festival of all was kept by the fulfilled martyrs, who feasted in heaven… Most of our brethren showed love and loyalty in not sparing themselves while helping one another, tending to the sick with no thought of danger and gladly departing this life with them after becoming infected with their disease… The best of our own brothers lost their lives in this way—some presbyters, deacons, and laymen—a form of death based on strong faith and piety that seems in every way equal to martyrdom. They would also take up the bodies of the saints, close their eyes, shut their mouths, and carry them on their shoulders. They would embrace them, wash and dress them in burial clothes, and soon receive the same services themselves. The heathen were the exact opposite. They pushed away those with the first signs of the disease and fled from their dearest. They even threw them half dead into the roads and treated unburied corpses like refuse in hopes of avoiding the plague of death, which, for all their efforts, was difficult to escape.”
In the middle and latter part of the sixth century, plague broke out in the Frankish Empire and had an estimated death toll of nearly 1 in 3 cases. It was significant enough to postpone the Festival of the Presentation in the year A.D. 543 by four months. Subsequent outbreaks continued for more than fifty years. Yet historian R. A. Markus observed that in writings preserved from that time, such as those of Evagrius and Gregory of Tours, there is no evidence of deep spiritual crisis among church leaders. Despite panic, famine, rioting, and political upheaval, there is little evidence that the mission of the church was changed or drastically transformed. Ministry went on and opportunities for evangelism increased.
In A.D. 591, the second year of the papacy of Gregory the Great, Gregory urged bishops to use the opportunity afforded by the plague to admonish and exhort pagans to convert, stating that “the closer the last judgment, the more we must fear the strict Judge.” Despite the plague having been present for nearly fifty years, this is a rare mention in Gregory’s writings. The plague did not bring ministry and evangelism to a halt—the shepherds continued shepherding their flocks.
In A.D. 1348, the plague arrived in Europe. Cycles of widespread death from the plague would persist for more than three hundred years. Although understanding of contagion was in its infancy at the time and various local councils did at times attempt separation or isolation methods— whether separating the sick from the healthy or closing city gates— there was no method to gain completely the upper hand over the spread of disease. The shadow of death hung over civilizations for generations upon generations. Europe during this time has been described by Philip McNair as a “death-oriented society.” This would have set a particular context for ministry, but as in Gregory’s time, it did not result in widespread suspension of pastoral duties.
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The Danger of Servant-Leadership
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk
The conversation over masculinity also has implications for how we understand the “servant leader” model of leadership in the home. Servant-leadership, as commonly understood in evangelical circles, has taken quite a beating in recent years, and rightfully so. Obviously, the servant leadership model is biblical because it derives from Jesus: he said the first shall be last; he is the Son of Man ( = New Adam), possessing authority, but he came among us to serve; he said the greatest of all is the one who becomes slave of all; he was exalted because he humbled himself and promises the same pattern to us; he stooped to wash the disciples feet even though he was Lord over them all. But the “servant leadership” model is all too easily twisted, and this has become the Achilles’ heel of complementarianism.
The real problem is that complementarianism has produced a lot of beta “nice guys” who think the way to get what they want is by giving others what they want. It’s what Robert Glover calls a “covert contract.” You see it in the Al Mohler quote Aaron Renn has called attention to when describing a man’s sexual relationship with his wife: Mohler suggests the man qualifies himself for sex and will (presumably) get the sex he desires by becoming what he thinks his wife wants. But I have done enough marriage counseling to know it does not work that way. A man who makes himself subservient is not going to faithfully execute the office of husband, and he is not going to win the respect of his wife over the long haul. A wife does not need or want her husband to be a “Yes man” to her. She needs him to lead her.
This is the real issue with “servant leadership.” Under this model, anytime a husband does not let the wife have her way, he can be accused of failing to serve her. And so practically, the marriage becomes no different from an egalitarian or feminist marriage where the woman runs the show. The man is only “allowed” to use his authority in ways that have his wife’s permission, whether explicit or implicit. He is only “allowed” to use his authority in ways his wife approves of which means he has no real authority at all. Instead, her emotions and felt needs come to rule the marriage. If the husband and wife disagree, the only way forward is for him to give in because otherwise, he would become a tyrannical patriarch, forcing his own will on her rather than serving her. Jesus would (presumably) give the wife what she wants, so the husband should too. If Jesus died for his bride, how can any husband refuse to give his wife what she desires? How can he say “No, honey, we’re not going to do that,” when he is supposed to serve her? Thus, “servant leadership” morphs into subservience; the head becomes the helper and the helper the head. This is Satanic role reversal accomplished in the name of Scripture. It is overthrowing the marriage’s built-in authority structure, which leads to chaos and confusion.
Feminists will never give in to their husbands because to do so is to allow herself to be controlled by him and that’s the one thing she cannot allow; thus she will continue to defy her husband in order to prove she is a real feminist. But the complementarian wife can get the same result by telling her husband, “You’re not serving me like Jesus. How can I follow you as my leader unless you serve me?” And thus the beat of the gynocentric order goes on. Basically, the “servant leader” model becomes a way for a wife to exercise control over her husband since he can be accused of tyranny or being self-serving any time he does not go along with her wishes. The “servant leader” model all too easily allows her to exercise veto power over anything he wants to do because she can shame him for not being the servant she’s been led to expect and thinks she deserves. She can play the “Jesus card” anytime she wants to trump her husband.
The problem, of course, is this is NOT how Jesus serves his church and so it is NOT what “servant-leadership” should be taken to mean. When Jesus died for his bride, he was not responding to a felt need. He was certainly not letting the bride determine the shape of his mission. In the Gospels, Jesus always leads the way and the disciples follow behind; they do not always even know or understand where he is taking them, but he keeps leading (cf. Mark 9-10). Or consider the picture in Revelation 19, with Jesus out in front, his disciples following in his train as he rides into battle. While Jesus serves his bride, and does allow her to give counsel (prayer), he never asks her permission to do anything and she always has to submit to him even when he does something contrary to her wishes. In other words, he serves her by ruling her. In the complementarian view, the man leads by serving — which means he does not really lead at all; in the gospel (patriarchal) view, the man serves by leading — his leadership is actually a form of service. The complementarian husband all too easily becomes a figurehead rather than a functioning head, and in that way, he actually fails to be like Jesus.
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How Resurrection Theology Shapes Our View of Masculinity
Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk
Unfortunately, too many accounts of Jesus’ manhood stop with the cross. Podles has pointed out this is a uniquely Western problem. The Eastern church tends to focus much more on the risen Christ. This Western version of Jesus stuck on the cross truncates our understanding of what he has done and who he is; it certainly truncates the lessons about manhood we can glean from his example. This truncation bleeds over into teaching on marriage when Ephesians 5:21ff is used to teach husbands that loving their wives like Christ loves the church means always giving her her way, keeping her happy at all times, and so forth. Instead of the strong, transformative, efficacious love of Christ as the model, we have a weak, effeminate love. If we reduce Christ’s love to what he did on the cross — and then we think of the cross primarily in passive terms — we can actually turn a husband’s headship into its opposite. The head becomes the helper. The wife’s felt needs become the measure of the husband’s faithfulness. The wife’s emotional state actually becomes the highest authority in the home. The man who should be a Christ-figure becomes a simp. But Jesus is not a simp.
The missing element here, as in so much of Western theology is the resurrection. Years ago during the so-called “Federal Vision” controversy, I was astounded at how many Presbyterian and Reformed theologians basically had no place in their theology for the resurrection. They affirmed it as a historical fact. They affirmed its importance, but they did not ascribe any special soteriological significance to it. Everything terminated on the cross. But, to paraphrase Paul in 1 Corinthians 15, a dead Christ cannot save and neither can a dead Christ provide us with the model of manhood we need. For these, we must look to the resurrection.
Christ’s resurrection is his justification/vindication — and therefore it is our justification/vindication as well. Christ’s resurrection is the inauguration of the new creation. We share in his resurrection life and that new creation even now, though more is still to come in the future. And finally, in the resurrection, Christ fulfills his commission as the New Adam, the Last Adam, the one who has total dominion over heaven and earth. As the risen one, he is King of kings and Lord of lords. As the risen one, he promises to bring judgment on his enemies. Indeed, in 70 AD he uses the might of Rome to destroy the primary persecutor his bride, the unbelieving Jewish people, an act of justified vengeance and violence that he prophesied many times during his earthly ministry (e.g., Matthew 23-24). The risen Christ kicks enemies and takes names.
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Jesus’ Manhood as Fulfillment of Psalm 128, part 3
Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk
How does the blessed man in Psalm 128 relate to Jesus? Since Jesus must be our measure of manhood, do we see him reflected in the blessed man of Psalm 128? Or does Jesus give us an altogether different view of manhood and masculinity?
At first glance, it may seem that Jesus and the blessed man of Psalm 128 have little in common. Jesus remained single and childless; the blessed man is married with kids, and, ultimately, grandkids. Jesus never had a place to lay his head; the blessed man seems quite prosperous, with a table, food, and a home of his own. Finally, in the climax of his earthly ministry, Jesus seems to be weak and helpless as he is crucified; meanwhile, the blessed man seems strong, competent, confident, and prosperous. In one sense, Jesus lacks the status the blessed man possesses. The blessed man seems decidedly more manly, while Jesus looks weak and unattractive.
But perhaps the contrast is not so great. After all, Jesus does take a bride — the church. Through her, he raises up children — new believers. In the resurrection, Jesus is made Lord of lords and King of kings. All authority, power, and status belong to him. He now has a table over which he presides — the Eucharist — and there he feeds his family the fruit of his labors. The risen Christ has everything the blessed man has, and more. He becomes The Dominion Man — the man who rules over the very earth from which man was made. And indeed, when we look closely at the gospel accounts, we find that even when Jesus was put on trial and then taken away to be crucified, he remained in complete control of the situation. Jesus’ life was not taken from him; he laid it down. He did not die against his will, but willingly, enduring the shame for the joy set before him. He died because it was necessary to fulfill his Father’s plan. He goes to the cross like a warrior who willingly volunteers to die that others may live. But such an act reveals true strength. Indeed, it transforms our understanding of strength — and therefore of masculinity.
On the cross, Jesus might look like the epitome of weakness, a failed man, and a failed messiah. But in reality, he is acting in infinite strength to save the world. The cross is actually his coronation. He is “lifted up ” — exalted, enthroned — on the tree so that he might draw his bride to himself, a bride that will be formed out the blood and water flowing from his side. In the same moment, he is dying at the “Place of the Skull, he is crushing the skull of the serpent under his feet. He shows us a new kind of manhood, one hinted at before but now foregrounded — a man defined by self-giving and sacrificial love, a man who lays down his life to protect and provide, and a man who looks foolish though he embodies infinite wisdom. This man seems weak even as he conquers the world in love, a man who rules through service and who ushers in his kingdom through a cross.
It is very clear particularly in the gospel of John that Jesus is actually in control of all the proceedings from his arrest to his death. He is not a helpless victim but a powerful victor, making certain events unfold according to plan (the fulfilled prophecies along the way underscore that everything in unfolding according to a script). The details in John’s account affirm he is the Sovereign Sufferer.
When Pilate said, “Behold the man,” he was speaking more truly than he knew. This is The Man — the true man, showing true manliness. In a twist of irony, we find this is what blessed manhood really looks like — a man giving all he has for the sake of his bride, a man laying down his life to save his friends, a man losing his life that he may find greater and more glorious life on the other side.
In Mark 15, just as he dies, the Roman centurion confesses him as Son of God, which is a royal title. So far from seeing him as unmasculine because of how he died, the centurion confesses him to be the model man, a ruling man. The cross really is an enthronement and an act of power. No, not everyone saw it that way; not all are given eyes to see. But Jesus was clearly sovereign over his death and even the very moment of his death. He only died when he chose to give up his Spirit. The centurion, who no doubt had seen many crucifixions, had never seen anyone die in this way. It was the ultimate strength amid utter weakness. It was strength disguised as weakness.
Jesus: The Model of Manhood
Guest Series by Rich Lusk
We can also see masculinity if we look at the ultimate model of manhood in the Christian religion, Jesus Christ. The Jesus we meet in the gospels confirms the view of manhood we have already seen, but adds some important elements that serve to deepen, enrich, and transform our understanding of manhood. A good survey of Jesus’ masculinity can be found in Leon Podles’ recent book, Losing the Good Portion; I highly recommend at least reading chapters 1-2, which give an overview of masculinity and challenge feminized/effeminate pictures of Jesus (both literal and figurative).
Jesus does many prototypically manly things during his ministry. He protects women — though surprisingly he also relies on women to help support his itinerant ministry. He wins status contests with other males — especially as he schools the Sadducees and Pharisees in theological debate. He powerfully exercises dominion — early in life presumably as a carpenter like his father, but then in a greater way during his ministry in miraculous healings and exorcisms. When he is wrongfully arrested and falsely accused, he does not defend himself, as a pagan man might have done, but allows himself to be carried away to trial and then to the cross. Of course, he does this because dying on the cross was his mission — and pagans would agree that manhood is very much intertwined with the fulfillment of a mission, even if it brings death. He was sent by his Father in order to die for the sins of the world, and thus rescue his bride — the church — from death and Satan. In his case, to escape death would have been an unmanly act of cowardice because it would mean forsaking the mission.
The death of Jesus is a heroic death. Even if you strip away the theological meaning of the cross — that this is the eternal Son of God in human flesh, dying a substitutionary death for his people, the righteous for the unrighteous, taking upon himself the curse and wrath they deserve in order to rescue them from sin, Satan, and death, thus purifying a people for his own eternal possession — it may still be seen as heroic. Indeed, every great story of sacrifice, whether fictional (like Harry Potter sacrificing himself for his friends) or historical (like the men who went down with the Titanic so women and children could be spared an icy death) is derivative of the gospel. Anyone who sacrifices on behalf of others is now regarded as a Christ-figure for precisely this reason. The gospel is the ultimate story and it has shaped the stories we tell and the way we tell them. According to Podles, at least some pagans were able to see heroism in Jesus’ ministry and in his death, though they rejected the greater meaning Christians ascribed to these events. After surveying the many manly features of Jesus’ ministry, including his emotional life, Podles demonstrates the connection between Jesus and the classical conception of masculinity:
Jesus suffered crucifixion, the dishonorable death of a slave, but by that means attained the name that is above all other names. Paul accepted the classical ideal of masculinity and showed how Jesus fulfilled it and how a Christian could attain it. A man attained true manhood by a noble death in service to others; Jesus above all did this…For Paul, Jesus’ seemingly shameful death was in fact understandable, even in classic terms, as a heroic death. By his conquest of death and his resurrection Jesus was established as Lord, Kyrios, and his kingdom is universal and eternal. Jesus continues to exercise his self-restraint and clemency, characteristics of the ideal ruler, by restraining his divine anger at the evil of the world, and thereby manifests his manhood.
Jesus fulfills the anthropological model of masculinity, especially as it was understood in the classical world. Coming from an inconspicuous but mysterious and honorable background, Jesus leaves the world of his mother and goes about his Father’s business. He overcomes all obstacles to save those entrusted to him, and deserves the highest honor, the title of Lord. He uses strength to others in ways small and great, from washing their feet to raising the dead. Jesus confronts death, passes through it, and defeats it, and is initiated into a new life. His emotions, including anger and love, are intense, manifesting his thumos, but they are always perfectly controlled and reasonable.
Even if the connections Podles draws between the masculinity of Jesus and the vision of masculinity idealized by the classic tradition are not completely convincing, he still makes an important point. The fact that Jesus died in shame and weakness would not have, in themselves, invalidated his manliness since dying a martyr’s death for the sake of a greater good was not altogether foreign to the world of classic antiquity.
It is true that pagans often ridiculed the idea of a “Savior of a cross,” a man who “saved others but cannot save himself.” It is true they regarded the meaning ascribed to the cross in Christian preaching and theology as foolishness. But this does not mean they would have inevitably seen Christ as emasculated. Of course, the same goes for Paul and the other early Christians martyrs. One of the things that made the Christian faith so compelling to outsiders in those early centuries was the bravery of Christians, male and female, in the face of horrific suffering and death. Many persecutors were persuaded to become believers precisely by seeing the way Christians faced death without blinking — just like Jesus. Christian men – and even Christian woman – displayed “manly courage” in the face of persecution and death, something that amazed and drew in many pagans whose lives had been dominated by fear.
Again, this is not to say that pagans, Jews, and Christians all agreed on the meaning of manhood. They did not. The gospel brought believers to a new and transformed understanding of masculinity (and by implication, femininity as well) — and this was undoubtedly offensive to those on the outside of the church. But just as we should not flatten out the real differences between an evangelized masculinity and pagan masculinity, neither should we exaggerate the differences.
