Freedom, Power, & the Crucified God.

Welcoming weary travelers into America, the Statue of Liberty holds a poem called “The New Colussus.” The author, Emma Lazarus, painted a picture of people who fought against power, prejudice, and greed. Even the poem’s title critiques power-seeking empires.  Indeed, the poem’s namesake, the Colossus of Rhodes was an ancient wonder of the world that represented the city’s military power. The old Colossus depicted a male, warrior god standing after victory in battle. It stood as a warning to travelers as they entered the city. Greek poets described Colossus as maintaining “dominion over sea and land” and crowning its “city with the spoils taken from the enemy.”

Similarly, Rome’s power dominated the culture of its empire. Yet during this same period, the early Christian church taught a very different way of living – a life in complete contrast to the power, control, and dominance of Rome. Christians sought victory in defeat and power in weakness by following the way of Jesus. This upside-down kingdom is more than just an idealistic view of the world: the early church directly critiqued the prevailing culture, which emphasized the power of the empire, which was achieved at the cost of oppression not only in politics but also in how they lived their lives. In 2024 the language of power is still seen through politics and control but Jesus invites us into a kingdom that is bringing heaven to earth.

Born at a time when Rome was coming off political unrest from the death of Julius Caesar, Jesus’ ministry contradicted the very way Rome was gaining power. Caesar Augustus was an emperor- hailed as a hero and great savior. The language of freedom, justice, and salvation echoed throughout his reign. Growing the Roman army through enticing benefits such as land, led to the conquest of territories and a growing taxation of the oppressed. The Pax Romana orchestrated peace through fear. Later his name was changed to Augustus, meaning working of veneration/worship. His adopted father, Julius Caesar had been given divine status after death, thus claiming the “son of god.” Ironically, in the years that followed Rome (and Western Civilization) ultimately built their empires in the name of Jesus. Using influence and power to build the church. Yet, Jesus faced death, not power or strength. Rome (and the rest of the empires) never tried to conform to the death of Christ on the cross. And because of that, the so-called Christian empires never understood what the victory of resurrection truly meant.

In contrast to this dominant power, the night before his crucifixion, Jesus fell on his knees at the Garden of Gethsemane – called “the place of crushing” – and prayed in agony to the Father. During the Roman Empire, death by crucifixion brings humiliation and defeat. Romans used the cross as a method of intimidation and political control. In addition to the Roman culture, Jewish law also contained a stark warning regarding crucifixion – “anyone hung on a tree is under God’s curse.” As Jesus and his followers entered Jerusalem, death by crucifixion was the last thing his disciples expected.  They wanted to counter Rome’s power with political uprising and liberation, they wanted violence. Simply power shifted to a different group.  Jesus did not intend to merely flip power from his enemies to his friends, country, or religion.  He revealed a new posture: cruiciformity. Instead of a power shift, he shattered the world’s construct of power. And by that, Jesus revealed to humanity that power no longer gripped it, but Jesus’ invitation to a cruciform way of living heaven on earth. The clearest depiction of divine power is in the place that is least expected, in the crucifixion. At the cross, God shows His power through humility, love, and suffering.

Whether oppressed or the oppressor, Jesus invites all people into this upside-down kingdom. In it, power is the antithesis of what culture has enabled and built to be. Reflecting on who Jesus is within the cultural context provides an opportunity to how we view power. Power is often used to transform or manipulate, often through a top town approach. However, Christ calls humanity to be cross-shaped – the anti-power way of living. Christians have the power to serve, the power to act relationally, and the power to live humbly.  In Mark Chapter 10, James and John – shaped by the world’s view of power – ask Jesus if they can sit at the left and right of him on his throne.  In his response, Jesus provides one of the clearest explanations of the cruciform kingdom:

“You know that those who are recognized as rulers of the Gentiles domineer over them; and their people in high position exercise authority over them. But it is not this way among you; rather, whoever wants to become prominent among you shall be your servant; and whoever wants to be first among you shall be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

This is God’s upside-down world. The weak are powerful – but only in an anti-power, upside-down way. Here lies God’s power and authority. The powerful are weak and the prominent are lowly. This is not only how Jesus lived; it is the identity of God forever.

The resurrection provides a glimpse of this identity. The very man they crucified out of threat to worldly power, is resurrected - bringing heaven to earth. The fullness of Jesus revealed. For now, Christians are present in this world and invited to embrace a posture of cruciformity, bearing witness to the redemptive love of their Lord.  This means Christians must give up rights, entitlements, and privileges. But the benefit of a cruciform life is not a future of non-cruciform eternity. Instead, this way of living provides a real benefit and a real tangible change in a cruciform community combined with a hope for a cruciform eternity. This real change radically redefines not only our future but our present. This is the kingdom of God and precisely what the early Church understood as it lived and breathed in the face of the power and wealth of Rome.

In what is already proving to be an anxious and high-stakes election year, Jesus’ crucifixion can help us imagine how Jesus-centered people show up in the world. In increasing polarization, the church has an opportunity to listen and love its neighbors – choosing to embrace them as neighbors rather than othering them as enemies.  This allows us to reflect on how to actively embody hope to a weary world in our day-to-day lives. We will not end famine.  But we can feed and engage our unhoused neighbor.  We will not end war.  But we can engage our neighbors who hold differing political ideals. We can abandon the culture-war posture of fighting the world and instead, hear the voice of Christ who invites us to join Him in embodying hope to our neighbor.

Not all of American culture seeks power and wealth. Mirroring the same cruciform ideas of the early church, the Statue of Liberty is an ordinary woman who welcomes the outsider, the foreigner, the other, with a beacon of hope. The oxidized, copper frame of lady liberty stands tall upon a base upon which is fixed Lazarus’s "New Colossus." Her words, more than most in our world, capture the Spirit of our Lord who hovers over the chaos of our quests for power and extends God’s eternal embrace and redemption to weary world.

“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”