Remember this?
I take it that this topic – making fun of
Jesus – is fitting for this time of the year, which is conventionally regarded
as that time when attention is focused on the passion, death and resurrection
of Jesus. During a part of the last earthly days of Jesus he was made fun of.
But I confess that I have never heard a sermon or lecture on this theme, only
ever a passing reference to the crown of thorns.
So reflecting on this at greater length is a
fitting thing, and one that may have a certain freshness to it. And I would say
a theme to be preferred to the more routine discourses on ‘the death of God’,
which find their inspiration more from Nietzsche than from the New Testament.
But I also think it is timely. So I wish
to link it to a topic of current interest, to freedom of expression and its
limits.
The incident of the crown of thorns was part
of the fun. The no doubt tedious lives of the battalion of soldiers were
enlivened by a little pantomime they devised entitled ‘The king of the Jews’ and
performed, fittingly enough, inside the palace, the governor’s headquarters. With
the connivance of the powers that be, therefore.
‘The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and
offering him sour wine and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save
yourself”. (Lk. 23.36-7). Another part of the game was to dress Jesus ‘in a
purple cloak, and twisting together a crown of thorns they put it on him’. So
ironically they made Jesus the King of kings ‘play king’. They began to salute him, ‘”Hail, King of the
Jews!” And they were striking his head with a reed and spitting on him and
kneeling down in homage to him. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him
of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. And they led him out to
crucify him.’ (Mark 15.17-20).
What did Jesus do in return? He endured the
cross and despised the shame. Game over. Except that they fancied Jesus’
clothes and at the very end they raffled them. They don’t seem to have done the
same with the purple cloak.
All this is taken up by Peter in his first
letter under the topic of ‘reviling’. Jesus was reviled, Peter says. But when
he suffered, he did not threaten. But not just that. He did not try to get his
own back. ‘When he was reviled he reviled not again’. We might say that ‘like a
sheep that before its shearers is
silent, so he opened not his mouth.’ Why was that? What did he keep silent? The
answer must be that this was his way of showing that he was entrusting himself
to him who judges justly. (I Pet. 2. 23f.)
II
But what has liberty to do with this? Some posts ago we looked at
Calvin’s view of liberty. An important strand of his outlook which is often
overlooked is that liberty according to Calvin is, of its very nature, two-way,
what used to be called a liberty of indifference.
Not merely freedom from, but freedom to and from. Calvin says that the liberty of regeneration, the bondage
from which Christ has made us free, is to be part of our characters, our hearts.
This freedom is not best expressed in the keeping of a law, a new law. (Incidentally,
you’ll notice that in the passage mentioned above, Peter might have reminded
his readers of the law’s golden rule, but instead his teaching has a
distinctive NT, Christological, centre to it.) We are as a consequence of such
liberation new men and women in Christ. We have no other destiny.
Yet, Calvin says, the obligations of the laws
of whatever country we live in, in one or other of the passing kingdoms of this
world, are nevertheless not optional, provided that the keeping of such laws
does not force us to sin. Rather we are to internalize these laws, making the
keeping of them a matter of conscience. Why? Because the state is the minister
of God. It is interesting (to me at least) that Calvin believed that the church
should not enact new laws, but that the state may, and perhaps must, in order
to continue effectively to govern in new circumstances. Our conscience has to
respect both activities. It ought to tell us not to obey what the church has no
business to enact, but to obey new laws of the state.
But aside from these negative and positive
attitudes to commandments, the Christian believer, and Christian citizens, have
liberty. There are adiaphora, things
indifferent. As I’m saying, I think that the word ‘indifferent’ brings out the
character of Christian liberty better than the mere word ‘liberty’ does.
Where we have such liberties, we may not
take maximal advantage of them. Calvin was an advocate of Christian liberty,
but he was not a liberty-maximiser. We might say, Calvin was not a libertarian,
regarding liberty and its pursuit as the basic value. He was not an advocate of
a minimal state, or such like. It was no part of his gospel. He wasn’t a one
for advocating political change except insofar as the interests of the church
were involved.
They say they are things indifferent: I admit it, provided they are used indifferently. But when they are too eagerly longed for, when they are proudly boasted of, when they are indulged in luxurious profusion, things which otherwise were in themselves lawful are certainly defiled by these vices….Certainly ivory and gold, and riches, and wine, are the good creatures of God, permitted, no destined, by divine providence for the use of man; nor was it ever forbidden to laugh, or to be full, or to add new to old and hereditary possessions, or to be delighted with music, or to drink wine. This is true, but when the means are supplied to roll and wallow in luxury, to intoxicate the mind and soul with present, and be always hunting after new pleasures, is very far from a legitimate use of the gifts of God. (Inst. III.19.9)
In view of what follows, it is important to
stress that Calvin is not a reliable
guide to matters of toleration. He thought in a Constantinian way. The Reformed
church was to have a specially privileged position because it was the
magistrate’s duty to ensure that it alone enjoyed freedom, and to sanction the
use of the civil law to silence those who deviated from Reformed orthodoxy,
such as Jerome Bolsec and Michael Servetus, as fomenters of civil disorder.
II
But what of the liberty of those like the
Roman soldiers, who made fun of ‘The King of the Jews’? The question of freedom of speech in
society exercises many at a time when political correctness has suddenly become
the political orthodoxy. There are certain things you may not say, certain
words that suddenly have become taboo, certain ideas that you may not air.
Besides these, the exercise of traditional liberties are threatened from Islamic
terrorists who at the drop of a hat will spray bullets at upholders of freedom
of speech. In such circumstances it is tempting to defend such freedom in
a retaliatory framework. An eye for
an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
Here’s what I suggest. As a part of his
general outlook to defend and uphold personal liberties, a Christian ought in
to be an advocate of freedom of speech. He enjoys such liberties, and in equity
others should enjoy them too. He should take this position knowing full well
that his fellow-citizens will use these freedoms in a retaliatory manner, and
so misuse them.
But though it is tempting for a Christian to
join them, he may not go down that path. It is tempting to respond to Muslim violence
with violent acts of one’s own. A Christian may hold that possessing political
liberty he may fight fire with fire. But when Christ was reviled he did not
revile in turn. That example should be sufficient. In the face of terrorism and
its threats and bloody actions, many
make freedom of speech a social and political absolute. So they threaten
Muslims, along with any one else they may feel inclined to target. Christians
ought not to follow them, but to exercise restraint. Because Christians are made
fun of, and feel the offensiveness of blasphemy and of lampooning, it is not a
sign of weakness when they are not hurtful in return. It is a sign of strength.
When I am weak, then am I strong.
At this point Christians say (or they are
told) that they should be prepared to laugh at themselves, or take a joke at
one’s own expense. And I suppose that we all should do this, even desperately
serious secularists, and desperately serious Christians, and weirdos of various
hues. It’s hard to keep a straight face,
I know. But if people are genuinely hurt by opposition then Christians should
not add to their hurt.
Paul’s conduct as an apostle went a step
further: ‘When reviled, we bless, when persecuted, we endure, when slandered,
we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the
refuse of all things’. (I Cor. 4.12-13) I suppose this response is part of not
pronouncing judgment before the time. (I Cor. 4.5) Peter said as much. Jesus
believed that now is not the time for judgment. His silence was ominous, though
the soldiers did not think so. We are to entrust ourselves to him who judges
justly. But in any case the exercise of such freedom is not an absolute right.
Christians aren’t to be libertarians.
