There are plenty of folks who can tell you what it means to be an American. Ironically, it does not include the first wave of immigrants, the inhabitants who crossed over from Eurasia and here centuries before Europeans sailed across the Atlantic. It does not include any of the other residents, indigenous, immigrant, or abductees in any other nation in the Americas. And to some, it does not include those residents of the United States descended from African abductees, or those who live in the traditionally multicultural context of the American Southwest, where the border has always been porous. Mostly it just means straight white capitalists, preferably ethno-Christian nationalists, though some Jews qualify as long as they are sufficiently secular.
Their definition of American is a tiny circle with very high white walls.
In the same way, there have always been those defining Christian as a tiny circle with very high walls. There is an entire history of arguing over who Jesus was and what he meant, a debate that started while he was still alive.
One of the definitions that evolved over the centuries was that to be a Christian, you must accept the ancient creeds, though they weren’t yet ancient. Definitely the Nicene Creed, though preferably also the Apostles’ Creed, and if you’re going for the whole enchilada, the formula of Chalcedon as well, which is complete nonsense. But that’s a sermon for another day.
Though Congregationalism and the United Church of Christ descend from these credal traditions, we are today non-credal, viewing ancient understandings as informative parts of our story, creeds as tools not weapons. And it is creed as story that I want to focus on this morning, and specifically on one phrase related to the crucifixion, that claims “he was crucified under Pontius Pilate” in the Nicene and “who suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried” in the Apostles’.
We’ve heard it so many times that we don’t think about it, though it raises an important question, one that has been central in the history of Christian antisemitism. Who killed Jesus?
So let’s start with the facts on the ground. Crucifixion was a Roman form of public torture and execution. Decomposing crucified bodies were left hanging on the crosses outside of every major Roman-occupied settlement as a warning. Slaves who considered rebellion or escape and would-be insurrectionists need only look at those bodies to know Rome’s cruelty.
The gospel narratives claim that Jesus is arrested and executed at the request of the Judean Council, called the Sanhedrin, which included the authorities of the Second Temple. There is no reason to doubt this.
There is a little bit of passing the buck when it comes to the civil authorities. After Herod the Great died, his area of control was divided among his sons, though the Roman prefect held real power. Jerusalem was ruled by one son, Galilee by another. Specifically, Galilee is ruled by a son also named Herod who shows up in the crucifixion narrative and infamously in “Jesus Christ, Superstar.”
There are two elements in the story that raise questions. First is the claim that the Sanhedrin does not have the authority to execute a criminal, civil or religious. Yet Stephen is stoned without Roman approval, and even if we read that as a mob lynching, demanding an execution is still responsibility for an execution. The corrupt prosecutor need not flip the switch.
The second is the portrayal of Pontius Pilate as wishy-washy and disinclined to execute Jesus, influenced by his wife’s dreams. This is contradicted by the historical record, which reveals a Roman functionary who was violent and had utter disdain for the Judean people.
Downplaying Roman responsibility, blaming the ambiguously defined “Jews” for the execution was in the best interest of the growing church hierarchy, which would come to see itself as the heir to the Roman empire and would have an earthly kingdom up until the creation of modern Italy.
And never mind the theology that claims the crucifixion was the divine plan from the beginning, that the entire reason for the incarnation was the Cross, which boils down to God killed Jesus.
So who actually killed Jesus?
And I just want to be upfront in letting God off the hook. Projecting our violence onto God doesn’t make God violent.
The Jews didn’t kill Jesus, for the term “Jew” is meaningless in this context. The Jewish people were diverse. There were many religious movements, appear to have been frequent social upheavals and movements. As far as we know, everyone who followed Jesus when he was alive would be considered a Jew today, though there are interesting encounters with folks we would consider Gentiles.
The Jews did not kill Jesus, but we can certainly blame the Sanhedrin. They were the elite, engaged in a careful dance with the violent occupation, a dance that left them with wealth and power. The religious movement led by Jesus was not only a direct challenge to their religious and economic privilege, it also risked growing large enough to spark Roman reprisals.
So on the Judean side of the equation, we can be clear that the rich and powerful killed Jesus in order to protect their wealth and power. These were the same folks buying up the land of the growing number of Judeans who were falling behind on their taxes, the First Century equivalent of today’s private equity funds or the folks who will profit from Chemung County’s current tax auction.
The Romans, who carried out the actual torture and execution, killed Jesus. We have sometimes romanticized the Caesars, watched “I, Claudius,” been amazed over things like Roman roads. We should not. The founding myth of the Roman empire was brutality, and it is the trait they most celebrated. Those efficient roads may have permitted the spread of the gospel, but they were designed to move violent troops out into the empire and bring in wealth and goods from occupied regions. While racism is not an appropriate term to use at that point in history, we err when we try to paint the Romans as egalitarian. Rome was greed and ambition and violence, not noble Brutus stabbing Julius Caesar, but Tiberius, Caligula, and Nero, men who were ego maniacs and psychopaths. We can be clear that Rome killed Jesus.
Greed and ego and power killed Jesus. And is still killing Jesus. Because people are murdered every day when they don’t submit to our city centurions, the occupation army that drives in from the country for their next shift in the ‘hood.
Because bodies are on display every day, thinned by chemo after years of exposures to toxins, in their drinking water or baby powder.
Because there is an empty bedroom in Nashville where a nine-year old used to sleep, but the CEOs and stockholders of domestic arms dealers are cashing the big checks, and that’s all that matters.
Who killed Jesus? The same people who are killing him today. Amen.