Roman establishment, the culture it engendered, and of formalistic Judaism itself.
The centerpiece of world domination prior to, during, and for three centuries following the life of Jesus Christ was the Roman Empire. At the Empire’s core was the imperial cult—for all intents and purposes what might be called a state church—which represented the sum total of Rome’s values and essence bound up in the identity of Caesar. The cult’s stories, celebrations, and symbols combined to create a sacrosanct myth designed to reinforce Roman rule. To the extent that rule could be kept by captivating the imaginations—and thus the lives and loyalties—of the people, Roman rule could be relatively peaceful and benevolent. To the extent that peoples’ imaginations—and thus their lives and loyalties—were resistant to the myth, Roman rule was willing and capable of being coercive and cruel, in deadly measure if necessary.
Caesar’s identity was highly venerated in as much as the imperial cult had religious as well as political dimensions. Messianic language was not uncommon in honoring even Caesar since he was acknowledged as the source of security and peace. It was not uncommon for Caesar to be called savior and lord.8 The act of proclaiming that anyone other than Caesar was lord was, therefore, not just an act of treason. It was also a statement of religious disloyalty. To acknowledge there was another king, one named Jesus, was beyond doubt a daring act.
Any attempt to understand Jesus apart from this political milieu results in an abridged notion of the fullness of Jesus’ life, teachings, and ministry. It is necessary to understand that “early Christian reverence of Christ was at the same time a religious act and also one with profound political connotations and consequences.”9 The political climate of Jesus’ day, as well as that of his followers in the early years of the ekklesia, provides us a proper context for hearing the teachings of Jesus with their political connotation intact. Yet these political associations do not trade on the power of worldly entities, but find their influence revealed within the sovereignty of God guided by God’s Spirit.
The genesis of ekklesia was predicated upon Christ’s commissioning statement and the promise of the coming of Holy Spirit not long following his ascension.10 Certainly the incarnation of God in Christ and the remarkable arrival of Holy Spirit at Pentecost constituted a singularly unified theophany. Yet the necessity of God’s presence was a persistent reality in the story of ancient Israel. Moses recognized the significance of God’s presence while interceding on behalf of Israel following the nation’s idolatry of the golden calf. Regarding the utter necessity of God’s presence, Moses said, “In this way, we shall be distinct, I and your people, from every people on the face of the earth.”11 In this moment, Moses identifies a prime characteristic of God’s people: they will be unique among all peoples, and God’s presence is essential to that uniqueness.
The narrative of the establishment of the church gives abundant evidence of the effects of God’s presence through Holy Spirit.12 The startling manifestation of the Spirit in, among, and through Christ’s followers huddled together following his ascension resulted in a bold multi-lingual proclamation of the gospel resulting in numerous conversions. Peter’s sermon began with Joel’s prophecy regarding the pouring out of God’s Spirit and culminated in serving notice to the Jews that God had make Jesus Christ to be both Lord and Messiah, the very Jesus they crucified. With more than three thousand new converts, they began a distinct communal journey characterized by gracious unity, attention to the apostle’s teaching, provision for the needs of all, and the praise of God. They were held in good esteem by other people, and their numbers increased.
One of the key lessons of Acts is that God’s Holy Spirit will not make Christ’s followers more like the world—only more and more capable of enacting and embodying the gospel as a sign to the world that the kingdom of God has come near. At every turn, the proclamation of the message regarding Jesus Christ stood in stark contrast to the values of the culture within which Christ’s followers lived. In many of these instances, as well as throughout the early centuries of the expansion of the church, the gospel was increasingly repelled if not rejected, and Christ’s followers were persecuted and even martyred. Regardless of such forceful dismissal of the message and messengers of Christ, the gospel spread throughout the whole of the Roman imperium, and ultimately beyond.
In one instance Paul and Silas arrived in Thessalonica.13 Paul preached Jesus as Messiah on three Sabbaths, proclaiming to all in attendance that it had been necessary for Jesus to suffer and die. While some of these Jews joined Silas and Paul in following the Christ, others gathered some ruffians to stir up the crowd against them. Unable to locate the two itinerate preachers, they went to the house of Jason—a person of faith, we assume, who had been hospitable to Paul and Silas—and took him before the city authorities. The crowd was shouting that Paul and Silas were among those whose message about the Christ was turning the world upside down. The concept of turning the world upside down was a common accusation of anyone acting in a seditious manner against Roman rule. They were threatening the status quo, and the local citizens were anything but pleased. Even more so, the charges this crowd brought against Paul and Silas were political in character: “They are all acting contrary to the decrees of the emperor, saying there is another king named Jesus.” It would appear even those who stood against these Christians were well aware of the political implications of the teachings of this Jesus and the words and actions of his followers.
Rome and its Caesar had seen many challengers come and go, yet the issue here is not just that Jesus was being proclaimed as a competing sovereign. “In confessing Jesus as ‘the Lord’ and ‘the Son of God’, these early Christians unavoidably, and often quite knowingly, denied this sort of status to the Roman ruler.”14 God was present fully in Jesus Christ to proclaim the eventual replacement of all worldly rulers and regimes. Jesus’ assertions, echoed by his followers, challenged Caesar’s imperial as well as divine status. In so doing, they also disputed the foundation and authority of all worldly kingdoms. In light of Jesus’ claims, Caesar was forced to promote himself as a messiah in order to save the world as he knew it; prosperity and safety—his own as well as that of the Empire—were at stake. Salvation for the realm had come from Caesar. On the other hand, Jesus declared salvation was at hand in the initiation of the kingdom of God.
One need only look at the nature of Jesus’ death from the imperial perspective to gain an appreciation for the political repercussions of his life, teachings, and ministry. Roman rulers were quick to dispose of any movements or claimants to rule even faintly posing a threat to the imperial order. The placard on Jesus’ cross attested to the threat he posed to the prevailing powers. The notice proclaiming that he was “the king of the Jews” was more than sarcasm. The Roman Empire was silencing another contender to its sovereignty and to its Caesar’s divinity (even if they did so with the complicity of Jewish religious leaders).
Whether Jewish or Gentile by physical birth, these participants in the first ekklesia cast a silhouette of a story of radical citizenship across the world’s stage, one differing vastly from the prevailing worldview. Ekklesia was a rather common term, used to denote a gathering of citizens in a Greek city-state for the purposes of making both political and judicial decisions. They chose this political nomenclature to describe their unified identity. Christ had called them from the world, and their choice of this word “made a radical declaration about their relationship to God and to the world.”15 They came to understand they had a new citizenship.16 One can scarcely make any claim regarding citizenship without being political. To ignore the explicit use of political imagery17 by these first followers of Christ is to diminish the emerging influence of their embryonic community. Disregarding such imagery weakens the gospel as well. While further commentary on the politicality of Jesus follows below, suffice it to say at this point that a depoliticized Jesus is a deficient Jesus.
These first followers of Christ carried about in their living the very radicality to which God had called them. Yet since the early days of the ekklesia, a variety of influences throughout the centuries has systematically truncated that radicality. One result is the church has been all too willing to accept a redefined ecclesiology, denying its prophetic and apostolic roots in favor of a more
