by Simon Lemieux
Religion gets a bad press generally when it comes to
inclusion, and it’s not difficult to see why. Most world faiths preach/teach
that they alone hold the key to salvation, eternal life and the ‘after-death
goodies’, that come as a reward to the faithful. In that sense they are pretty
much exclusive, in the same way that political parties offering ‘jam today’
argue they alone have our best interests and deserve our vote. Religion has
also often become distorted as a badge of national or nationalist identity.
Culture, religion and identity are intertwined. To be (properly and loyally)
English in the 17th century was to be Protestant, to be Russian is
to be Orthodox, to be Indian is to be Hindu. Etc. Simplifications and
caricatures, but only up to a point. Religion also has a bad track record
generally of mistreating, demonising and discriminating against those whose
lifestyles and life choices stray from the straight and narrow. So why the heck
bother? Well, because go back to the roots, ‘ad fontes’, in Christianity
at least, the one world faith I can at least attempt to talk about
authentically, the Jesus of the Gospels, of Scripture, tended to preach a
rather different message to that of some of his subsequent followers. The
church became powerful, power corrupts, the rest is history….
So can we talk about and let alone worship, a diverse
inclusive Jesus? We are currently in the pre-Christmas season of Advent, a time
of hope and waiting (French verb advenir if you’re interested) so wait
and read what follows. Yes, some of my points might be a little bit of a gloss
or over-simplification, and I’ve left out some of the awkward bits that need a
bit more contextualising and debate, but for a layman’s guide to a diverse
Christ read on.
A team that looks like Galilee
Okay, so the 12 Apostles, Matthew, Mark etc lacked gender
diversity, we’re not aware of physical disabilities among them nor of what some
choose to term ‘same sex attraction’ but delve further and they were a fairly
motley crew. There was considerable diversity among the Twelve, Jesus’ ‘inner
core’.
The disciples came from an otherwise incompatible assortment
of backgrounds:
Simon Peter was the rockiest one. Jesus name Simon ‘Peter’,
meaning ‘rock’. One biblical scholar makes the point that it must have been a
joke among the disciples, and his name mocked him. Rather, he was ‘rocky’. A
fisherman by trade, bold in word, timid in action, along with all the others,
Peter would deny his association with Jesus.
James and John were called the ‘Sons of Thunder and were
sons of Zebedee and of an aggressive, pushy mother seeking her sons’ promotion.
Thomas was the doubter. Known as Didymus, meaning ‘the
twin’, Thomas was the dismal doubter. He couldn’t believe Jesus was resurrected
unless he touched him.
Matthew was a tax collector. Also known as ‘Levi’, Matthew
must have been the suspect one among the disciples. Tax collectors were on
about the lowest rung on the Jewish social ladder. Being a tax collector in the
days of the Roman occupation of Palestine was not a nice quiet job working for
HMRC with a civil service pension, but rather a mixture of a collaborator with
the occupying power combined with being a bit of a scammer.
Simon was a Zealot. Simon might well have been a former
member of the Jewish political faction that was determined to overthrow Roman
rule by force.
Judas Iscariot was the treasurer. Judas the treasurer became
Judas the betrayer. Even Judas was slow to leave the table of the Lord.
The stories of the rest of the Twelve round out a wild assortment
of unlikely people upon which to begin a worldwide movement. And, St Paul, a
key player in founding the Early Church, may well have suffered from epilepsy
to boot.
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Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous painting of Jesus and the apostles at the Last Supper |
Loving the unlovable/marginalised/excluded
But where we really get close to a spirit of inclusion with
Jesus is who he spent much of his time with. In short, a pretty amazingly
varied bunch of individuals. He spoke to the tax collector, that thoroughly
dubious guy, Zacchaeus (who we are told was also wealthy) and persuaded him to
come down from the sycamore tree he had climbed up to see Jesus, and to follow
him. Zacchaeus was also vertically challenged, one reason why he climbed the
tree, but perhaps he also wanted to observe Jesus from a safe and discreet
distance given his background. And then the women. Treated as equals by Jesus
and respected regardless of background. The most poignant story is perhaps that
of the Samaritan women by the well. Here’s part of the story from John’s Gospel
Chapter 4:
‘2 Jesus knew the Pharisees had heard that he was baptizing
and making more disciples than John 2 (though Jesus himself didn’t baptize
them—his disciples did). 3 So he left Judea and returned to Galilee. 4 He had
to go through Samaria on the way. 5 Eventually he came to the Samaritan village
of Sychar, near the field that Jacob gave to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob’s well was
there; and Jesus, tired from the long walk, sat wearily beside the well about
noontime. 7 Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her,
“Please give me a drink.” 8 He was alone at the time because his disciples had
gone into the village to buy some food. 9 The woman was surprised, for Jews
refuse to have anything to do with Samaritans. She said to Jesus, “You are a
Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a drink?” 10 Jesus
replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking
to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”
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Inclusion here on at least three counts. A male religious
teacher/rabbi, Jesus, talking seriously to a women, not normal in 1st
century Galilee. In first-century Palestine, a woman’s social sphere was only
as large as her family. Jewish writings made it clear that “It is the way of a
woman to stay at home and it is the way of a man to go out into the
marketplace.” (Bereshit Rabbah – a Jewish midrash comprising a collection of
ancient rabbinical interpretations of the Book of Genesis written probably
between 300 and 500 AD). A Jew (Jesus) talking to someone, a Samaritan, his own
race saw as spiritually unclean and to be kept at arm’s length or preferably
even further away. And finally, her own personal history was interesting to say
the least. Five times married and now living with her latest partner to whom
she was not even married. If you wanted to ‘slut shame’ one New Testament women,
she would be an obvious candidate. Yet Jesus offers her the chance of
forgiveness and the ‘water of life’. Everyone’s invited in to drink from the
cup of salvation on offer. Yet Jesus will also heal the daughter of a Roman
centurion and touch lepers, arguably the most unclean of the unclean. Finally
and perhaps most universally, Jesus’ teaching humanized the poor and
demonstrated God’s incredible concern for their physical, mental and spiritual
well-being and, in doing so, attacked those who ignored or disenfranchised
them: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim
good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18) and “But when you give a banquet, invite the
poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they
cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous”
(Luke 14:13–14).
Gentiles and Jews welcome!
Lastly, the message of Jesus, His teaching about how we
should live our lives, treat others and follow God, was intended for all
humanity. The prophets of the Old Testament, Moses, Jeremiah, and the like,
were directing their teaching to the Jewish people at least in the first
instance. The laws and commandments were for the Israelites, the old covenant
and dispensation to use some fancy theologyspeak. Jesus, the Bible tells us,
came to preach the good news to the world, Jew and Gentile (non-Jew) alike. The
classic verse, well to my mind at least, comes from John 3:16, ‘For God so
loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever
believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life’, and is on offer to all
irrespective of race, colour, character or (dis)ability. And not just for black
Friday or the post-Christmas sales. When one surveys the cross on which He
died, the crap of all humanity was piled up on him, metaphorically at least.
When rose again, was resurrected, it was to offer life everlasting to all. If
you want a pretty decent strapline for diversity and inclusion, I reckon you
could do a lot worse than, “In Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor
free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians
3:28.
So what?
Well after that little bit of ‘bible bashing’, a somewhat
upbeat and idealised/aspirational take on Jesus and inclusivity where does that
lead and leave us? Some of the trickier bits were admittedly skated over as I
mentioned at the start, above all how this teaching has been misunderstood and
often misapplied over the centuries: Christianity has been used to justify
enslavement, apartheid, domestic violence among many other sinful actions. But
strip away the embellishments of humans over the centuries, and you are left
with a historical figure who had something eternally valid to say to and about
humanity, what really matters in life and the art of true wellbeing. We’re back
at the Samaritan women by the well.
And what/who now?
Well, have a good Christmas, however you choose to celebrate
it. Try and remember it is about a little more than festive overindulgence. Even
if the act of celebrating it can bring family tensions and angst to the fore, and
Christmas is sadly notorious as a time when intrafamily quarrelling and
relationship breakdown is at its highest. Don’t forget the Who, and no, that’s
not the famous rock band slightly before my generation, but the one who asks
‘Who are you’?
PS
I’ve unashamedly made this a pretty Christian/Jesus centric article;
well it is getting close to Christmas after all. How great if those from other
faith backgrounds, or none, followed up with pieces in a similar vein for
Portsmouth Point/D&I newsletter.
Mr Lemieux is Head of History and Politics, and is sometimes found wearing preacherman robes on a Sunday morning.
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