I began using Instagram to follow artists and that’s still its primary purpose for me. I only know a small number of them personally and most I really don’t know at all. If a new artist appears in my feed and I like their work, I click to follow them. Most post only their paintings but sometimes offer inspiration background or tips on their technique.

So I was certainly startled last week when one of these unknown painters posted a rambling declaration about the ultimate triumph of Christianity, and that martyrs didn’t hinder this outcome but actually guaranteed it, and so on. Or something like that. I wasn’t entirely clear about his point but it was obvious that he had the murder of Charlie Kirk in mind.

Before this past week, I knew very little about Charlie Kirk. I know a bit more now, but not much. As far as I can tell, Kirk’s message was not especially religious, though Christian themes had become more common in his speeches in recent years. In any case, politically oriented Evangelicals had come to identify him as one of their own. Upon his death, Kirk was also quickly identified by many of them as a Christian martyr.

I had not intended to return to the church and politics theme of my last blog post. But the reaction to Charlie Kirk’s death seemed another example of the confusion over politics and religion, and Christianity in particular, and was worth some more reflection.

I do not mean to denigrate politics or social movements. They are a part of our world and can perform valuable and even essential functions. Rather, I think history shows that when mixing politics and religion, religion always comes out the loser. And the reason for that is that it causes religion to forget its real purpose.

This is especially hard for Christians to hear because Christianity has been entangled with politics from its beginning. As a new religion in a culture that valued what was ancient, early Christians were often viewed with suspicion and even hostility.  Many of the first Christians ran afoul of Roman authority for their refusal to make the required annual sacrifice to the divine emperor (from which Jews were exempt, but Christians weren’t Jews). Creating and maintaining good relations with political authority thus became a high priority.

Then in the 4^th century the emperor Constantine flipped the table and embraced Christianity as the empire’s new state religion. Many Christian leaders at the time heralded this incredible event as an act of God and the literal establishment of God’s kingdom on earth. Hence, much of Europe was long known as “Christendom.”

And that attitude has more or less stuck with Christianity ever sense. It provided the logic and the emotional energy for the Crusades and European colonialism, and the bloodshed and oppression that accompanied them. To most people today, this attitude seems startlingly arrogant, yet there still remains a kind of subconscious belief that Christianity really is the “right” or best religion, and will, or should, ultimately come to prevail around the globe.

It’s hard to believe things went so wrong, so early, but there is growing recognition that the Christianity which developed in the first centuries had little to do with Jesus of Nazareth. The Christianity which eventually predominated was mostly the product of Paul, who never knew or even saw Jesus. Other Christianities which were more closely tied to Jesus’ teachings eventually faded away. But the gospels nonetheless did retain some record of Jesus’ Galilean teaching and ministry (which is completely missing in Paul’s letters).

Unfortunately, we will likely never confidently have a clear picture of what Jesus was up to. There are just too many pieces that don’t fit together. However, there are two things which we can say with confidence that Jesus was not up to. First, all indications are that Jesus had no intention to start a new religion. He was a Jewish wisdom teacher and reformer much in the tradition of the prophets. He had disciples, as the prophets often did, but there is no evidence he thought he was beginning a new movement which would follow after him.

Second, and consistent with the last point, Jesus had no political hopes or agenda. The main challenge to this position, which is espoused by some biblical scholars today, is the story of Passion Week. Did Jesus go to Jerusalem to assert himself as Israel’s new king and messiah and to stir up a rebellion against the Romans? On the face of it the idea is preposterous. And Jesus’ teachings show that naivety was not something he suffered from.

Nor does his prior Galilean ministry show any evidence that he was preparing for such a move. It comes out of the blue, so much so that it is hard to connect the two parts of the gospels’ story of Jesus, and the gospel writers’ have to work hard to make that connection. And they’re not very convincing.

I don’t doubt that Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem, but how that came about is a mystery. Most scholars now recognize the gospels’ Passion narrative as an over-the-top dramatization, largely inspired by stories in the Hebrew Bible. Paul, the earliest New Testament writer, makes Jesus’ crucifixion central to his teaching, yet says nothing about the historical circumstances of it. The Passion story doesn’t appear until forty years after Jesus’ death in the gospel of Mark.

In Roman occupied Judea, crucifixion was almost a daily occurrence. Its purpose was public intimidation rather than justice. I often hear or read statements like “Jesus was killed because he was a threat to the empire.” No. It’s unlikely “the empire” knew anything about him. It’s possible that something like the gospels’ table-turning episode in the temple might have been what got him in trouble. But it’s just as likely that in the typical tumult of the pre-Passover holiday, for the trigger-happy Romans Jesus was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So, what was Jesus’ about? I think the gospels’ basic story of his Galilee ministry is clear: Jesus was a teacher and a healer. And those roles were two sides of one coin. That is, his goal was to transform, or “save”, people, setting them free from their “sins” and the sins of their religion and culture. Jesus alleviated people’s suffering by showing that they already had faith and that they were already loved by God and part of “the kingdom of God.” Repeatedly in these stories, when someone encounters Jesus they are dramatically changed and become a “new” person. Probably the standout example is Mary Magdalene but there must have been many others like her.

As I say, the church which came after Jesus, though claiming his name, soon lost touch with this Jesus. Not entirely, of course. The ministry of compassion and inclusion has always had a place in the church. But it has taken a back seat to recruiting members, building churches, and trying to be something “big” in culture and society—the type of things Jesus showed no interest in during his lifetime.

Human awakening and transformation are what Christianity’s spiritual and mystical side have always been about, whether Catholic, Protestant or Orthodox. Though it has now strayed far from its roots, this is how Evangelicalism got started. Probably the most popular hymn of all time testifies to that.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.

These words are not a testimony to some heavenly sin-forgiveness transaction in the “sweet by and by” but to a personal experience of renewal and new life here and now. One of the saddest testimonies to the modern church’s deafness to this need and this calling happened 90 years ago when AA was founded. It began in part because its founders found churches unwilling to minister to people with such a problem. How could they acknowledge that their own members could have lives so “unmanageable?” So embarrassing.

As important as politics is in the social and cultural spheres, Jesus’ agenda was something different. His goal was to awaken people to their true nature: being one with God, their neighbor and all creation. For Christianity to claim to be continuing Jesus’ ministry, that must be its goal as well. A preoccupation with politics, and the unending dramas on the national and global stages, distracts from that ministry and drowns out the message of good news for all people which Jesus proclaimed.

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