Why I’m okay with white Jesus

jesus sacred heart
This is not what the historical Jesus looked like.

Let’s get this straight—despite Megyn Kelly’s recent protestations, the ethnicity of the historical Jesus is pretty well settled. He was a Galilean Jewish man, almost surely with darker and more olive-toned skin than a typical white man. He didn’t have blue eyes. He didn’t have a golden halo hovering above his head or perfectly blow-dried hair. He probably didn’t even have long hair.

Why we need to acknowledge that Jesus was a Galilean Jew

First, it’s a shame that we’re having to say this at all. We have to say it because, as Megyn Kelly has shown us, some people really think the historical Jesus was a white man.

It affects how we read the Bible when we imagine this sort of supernatural figure walking among the masses. He seems not quite human, more floating than walking. We picture this type of mystical figure and have a hard time understanding how the world didn’t recognize him. (Here I’m not referring to his whiteness—which is nothing supernatural—but the total aura.)

In 2002, some British scientists produced this "reconstruction" of Jesus' face. No one really knows, but it's probably much closer than the above.
In 2002, some British scientists produced this “reconstruction” of Jesus’ face. No one really knows, but it’s probably much closer than the above.

We see these images of Jesus, clearly out-of-place in a world full of regular-looking (sometimes even Jewish-looking) shepherds and fishermen, and his humanity seems almost an illusion. It’s hard to imagine that he could have actually gotten his feet dirty, smelled bad, or stubbed his toe. That all makes it hard to imagine he understood or had to deal with our actual human plight. All of that, though, dances on the edge of an ancient heresy called Docetism, which held that Jesus only appeared to be human.

One of the great marvels of the incarnation is that the Son of God became a real, regular-looking human being. He came into a particular culture as one of the people of that culture. We lose the significance of that when we portray Jesus as a conspicuous foreigner among a bunch of first-century peasants.

When we forget that Jesus was of Jewish descent, we also miss an enormous theme that runs throughout the Bible: God chose Abraham and then the people of Israel to bring salvation to the world. Salvation is from the Jews! Forget that Jesus was Jewish and you’ll misunderstand a lot of the Bible––both Old and New Testaments.

When Jesus isn’t a Galilean Jew

The historical Jesus was a Galilean Jew, and we must recognize that for all the reasons above. But I think there are theological reasons to accept some other depictions.

Chinese depiction of Jesus and the rich man (Mark 10) - 1879, Beijing, China
Chinese depiction of Jesus and the rich man (Mark 10) – 1879, Beijing, China

The painting at right is of Chinese Jesus. Why would anyone paint Jesus and his followers as if they were Chinese? We all know this isn’t historically accurate.

I think they would do it because Chinese people will understand the incarnation differently when they see a Chinese Jesus. Although Jesus surely didn’t speak Chinese and never set foot in modern China, I think the painting at right might help a Chinese person understand some of the deep theological realities of the incarnation better than a painting of a Galilean Jew.

I’ll make the same statement as above, but now with a slightly different intention. One of the great marvels of the incarnation is that the Son of God became a real, regular-looking human being. He came into our time to experience what we experience, to share in our limitations and hardships. “We do not have a high priest  who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin” (Hebrews 4:15).

This is where we run into something called the scandal of particularity. Jesus didn’t experience everything. He didn’t experience life in medieval Europe or 21st century Africa. He didn’t experience life as a woman or as an elderly man. We might even ask if he was really tempted in every way. He was unable to experience all of these things precisely because he was human. To be human is to be limited by time and space.

An African Jesus depiction
An African Jesus depiction

Jesus’ incarnation required him to come into a particular time and place with a particular ethnicity and race. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among a group of first-century Jews. While the gospel of John doesn’t mean less than that, I think it intends to mean more than that. When we read, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14), I think we’re intended to read that “us” as even ourselves. I think we’re intended to see all the particularities of Jesus’ thirty-something years of life on earth and see broader implications in them––that he is truly able to empathize with all of our weaknesses and situations, even those he didn’t directly experience.

I suspect that many people in China would feel that point more deeply if they saw a picture of Chinese Jesus. Could they comprehend it while looking at a Galilean Jewish Jesus? Surely so. But I think they would feel it differently. What language would Jesus speak to a woman from Beijing? I expect it would be Mandarin Chinese––probably with a Beijing dialect. That’s easier to expect when you see a Chinese Jesus.

Let me stop and acknowledge here that our world is quickly globalizing. A woman in Beijing may meet someone who appears Jewish or African and then find out that person speaks perfect Mandarin, with a Beijing dialect even. People don’t have to look like us to be like us. While that’s true, I don’t think it’s enough for me to tell a Chinese friend to get rid his Chinese Jesus picture.

So I’m okay with Chinese Jesus. And also Indian Jesus and Hispanic Jesus and Ethiopian Jesus –– all for the same reasons. Can we continue to remember that the historical Jesus was a Galilean Jew and yet continue using these other images, as well? I hope so.

Why I’m (cautiously) okay with white Jesus

For all the same reasons I just gave, I’m okay with white* Jesus depictions. Just as I think an Ethiopian might see Jesus a bit differently––and more truly––if she sees an Ethiopian Jesus, I think a white person might see Jesus differently if he sees a white Jesus.

I’m more cautious of white Jesus than any other depictions, though. I’m cautious because people like Megyn Kelly actually believe that Jesus was white. They’ve seen so many white Jesuses that they have lost any sense of his true historical ethnicity. I’m cautious because we don’t need a white Jesus to suggest any more white privilege to our world. I’m cautious because of how prevalent white Jesus seems to be in the Western world––so much so that it might be hard for Westerners of other ethnicities to picture a Jesus that looks more like them.

When I was in seminary, a guest speaker came to one of my classes and celebrated all the great things about his ethnic heritage. He talked about the ways that they were including specific parts of that heritage in their worship, and it was beautiful. But then he looked at all of us (nearly all white) and said, “You need to remove everything that reflects white culture from your churches. White culture has done too much evil.” He went on to tell us that we had no ethnic heritage, and when someone asked what cultural patterns we should adopt, he told us to pick any other than our own.

I suspect that this man had been deeply hurt by what he called “white culture.” I’m sure many of his family and ancestors had as well. I regret that. Nevertheless, I don’t believe those past hurts are cause for telling anyone that they have no culture and should go and adopt someone else’s. For that reason, just as I’ll support a Chinese Jesus, I think there is still a place for a white Jesus. I don’t think we should rid ourselves of those depictions, though I think it’s time our depictions got a bit more diverse. Let’s keep white Jesus, but let’s be sure to add Jesuses of many other ethnicities to the mix. Most of all, let’s be sure Galilean Jewish Jesus has some prominent place in our vision.

———–

Excursus: A Female Jesus?

This discussion leads us to another important question. If we can depict Jesus as Hispanic or Indian, African or Chinese, can we depict Jesus as a woman?

Let me first say that I believe we have a Savior who empathizes with women just as well as with men. He understands their thoughts and experiences no less. And by no means does God favor or honor one gender over another.

But I wouldn’t depict Jesus as a female. Augustine says Christ “was not ashamed of the male nature, for He took it upon Himself; or of the female, for He was born of a woman.” Thomas Oden offers this as a hypothesis: “If the mother of the Savior must necessarily be female, the Savior must be male, if both sexes are to be rightly and equitably involved in the salvation event.”** I think there’s something important to keeping Jesus as a male, the Son of God, born of a woman.

I suspect my thoughts here represent a minority view. I’ve gotten myself into issues of race, gender, ethnicity, and historical accuracy. I’d be interested in your thoughts in the comments.

* I wade into all sorts of murky waters by using the word “white” here. I use it the way that Wikipedia defines the term “white people” to refer to a set of ethnic groups characterized by lighter complexions and with origins in Europe, the Middle East, or North Africa.

** All of this from Thomas Oden’s Classic Christianity, p. 505.

Derivative art, rock and roll, teenage angst, and God

mellon collieI remember sitting with friends in 1995 and trying to name any “happy” songs. We came up with the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Today.” You know it: “Today is the greatest day I’ve ever known…” But then we learned it was a song about suicidal thoughts.

I remember listening over and over to the Smashing Pumpkins’ album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. It began with, “The world is a vampire // set to drain.” The whole album seemed to climax with, “Emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness, and cleanliness is godliness, and God is empty just like me.”

I would say that most of music while I was in high school could have been defined as “misery makes for great art.” If you grew up in the ’90’s, you surely agree. Wasn’t it just perfect for dealing with teenage angst?

It’s interesting how things can change with time. If you haven’t yet seen this clip from an interview with Billy Corgan [frontman of the Smashing Pumpkins], you should take 2 minutes and watch.

Some highlights from the interview with Corgan – nearly 20 years after the Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness album:

What are you exploring now?

God. God’s the third rail in rock and roll. You’re not supposed to talk about God. I think God’s the great unexplored territory in rock & roll music.

[…]

What would you say to Christian rockers, then?

Make better music… I think Jesus would like better bands.

Here’s a better quote: Hey, Christian rock, if you wanna be good, stop copying U2. U2 already did it.

I didn’t expect Billy Corgan to give some of the most interesting commentary on theology that I’ve heard in a while.

Two things I’d like to draw out:

1. One of the artists who made the most of misery is now talking about “maturing into the deeper work,” and the “deeper work” is about God.

What happens when you’ve explored misery and existential crisis, and are ready to mature and move into something deeper? Corgan says the natural place to go is to explore God.

A lot of our world wants to promote a sort of nihilism. All misery, no remedy. Just angst. The misery can lead where it led Corgan 20 years ago: “God is empty just like me.” Or it can lead where it’s leading Corgan today – to a deeper exploration of God. Perhaps God isn’t empty after all.

I think we’re seeing here what some have called the “God-shaped hole.” Less generically, I think we’re seeing how deep examination of life may lead us right in God’s direction. It may take us through a valley of despair first. In fact, the depth of that valley may have something to do with the extent of that next exploration: the pursuit of God.

Let me stop here, then, and give you an invitation. If you have been exploring the depths of emptiness, loneliness, and purposelessness, might it be that the only real answer is an exploration of God? Stop here, if this is you. Seriously – I don’t think the rest will apply. And if you’re interested in moving past exploration of misery, I’d love to help point you in same good directions. Those will vary a lot depending on where you are. Maybe we could start with an e-mail conversation?

This all leads to a second point for Christian artists and pastors…

2. It’s hard to fake depth.

In art terms, Corgan is calling out Christian music as derivative. They’re taking the template that U2 created, and they’re copying it.

Michael Gungor (a brilliant musician who you must listen to) says the same thing in a different way. He was trying to figure out how he’s so good at the game “Christian or Secular?” — a game where you listen to a few seconds of a song and say whether it’s Christian or secular. He said he realized the difference is that the Christian music doesn’t have a soul. He compares it to a zombie.

What Corgan and Gungor both seem to be saying to many (not all) Christian artists: you have it… but you don’t. There is no greater, deeper, and more profound subject of our art than God. But rather than actually engaging that subject, trying to catch her beauty in a new way, you’re just putting new wrapping on the work someone else has already done. And just as it’s hard to fake a good marinade, it’s hard to fake depth when all you’re doing is repackaging.

A plea for depth and originality in Christian art… and preaching and ministry

The lesson here isn’t just for Christian musicians. I think it goes to all Christians. God has revealed himself and continues to reveal himself. He is worthy of our deepest and most passionate pursuits. And as we explore God, it will radically transform us and thus what we produce.

This is an important note for all the pastors and youth pastors who go to mega-churches’ conferences each year to figure out the keys to building a mega-church or mega-youth-ministry. It’s an important note for the preachers who find their best material on desperatepreacher.com rather than in their own study and living.

Pastors — what we need is a church with leaders who have searched the Scriptures deeply and wrestled with the meatiest points of theology and considered how they speak to us and the Church and the culture. We need that much more than we need another Saddleback or Willow Creek imitation. And we should acknowledge that the imitators never really emulate the “success” of the originators. The wrapping may be similar, but the depth gained in getting there isn’t.

Now I’m not saying that technical, how-to help has no place. If you have something profound to say but haven’t learned how to communicate, it won’t have much effect. Sure, read an occasional how-to book and go to an occasional how-to conference. But read more Augustine and Calvin and Wesley and Barth and Bonhoeffer — oh, and more of the Bible!

Not shunning the past

Some people go the other direction with this. Billy Corgan tells Christian musicians to stop copying U2, so perhaps we should just trash anything that’s old and come up with our own, better, newer things. But I don’t think Billy Corgan is uninterested in those who have gone before him. Ask him, and I expect he would speak glowingly of Black Sabbath, Jimi Hendrix, and Cheap Trick. I doubt I would have listened to his music if all he did was play Jimi Hendrix covers, though.

New explorations aren’t about shunning the past. I presume that some of the world’s greatest artists and musicians and even athletes have been among the greatest historians of their trade. They have been deeply formed by watching, admiring, and learning from those who came before them. And out of that depth they have done something that reflects the past without mimicking it.

But the greatest of these is love?

what is loveThe famous “love chapter” of the Bible – the one you hear at every wedding – ends conclusively, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Of all the statements in all of Scripture, this may be the one our culture is quickest to embrace. Love trumps all. You’ll hear plenty about how at the end of your life, the amount of money you made, or how high you climbed the corporate ladder, or how much you achieved doesn’t matter all that much.

What matters? How much you loved and were loved.

I frequently see this in the church, too. God is love. Jesus was the ultimate example of love. Jesus even says at the last supper, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

And so, anything that threatens unity, peace, acceptance — in a word, anything that doesn’t promote love — is just downright unChristian. For that matter, anything that makes anyone feel sad or suggests that they might have done something bad has no place, either. To make someone feel sad or bad surely isn’t loving.

Especially in the recent homosexuality debate, a growing contingent inside the church — and virtually everyone outside the church — has asked how the church could deny anyone’s love.

A good friend of mine – strong in his faith – says he can’t understand how God would create someone with love for another person, then deny the person that love. (At the same time, he flinches at the notion of endorsing an incestuous relationship, and not just because of the genetic consequences. He tends to believe that’s a sickness, not something God would put in them. If they were born that way, it’s a genetic disorder. Is it reasonable to consider the one relationship normal and God-given and the other a sickness to be denounced? Is he just closed-minded and unable to see the injustice in denying these people their love?)

So the question: do we understand what love is?

I won’t argue that love is not all that remains in the end. That it’s not “the greatest of these.” I surely won’t argue that the character of God isn’t love, or that Christ wasn’t the perfect exemplar of love.

But I will say that Jesus said and did a number of things that today’s American culture – hyper-aware of our feelings as we are – would probably call mean. It’s hard to put a “nice” slant on, “You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good?” He calls people children of hell and talks about God’s authority to throw people into hell. Are these the words of a “loving” Son, representing the God whose character is love?

Yes, Jesus welcomes sinners. But he also acknowledges that they’re sinners (sometimes in some rather uncomfortable ways: see, woman at the well) and then tells them to stop sinning. Some of these people must have felt judged. How dare he say that what they’re doing is sin? And tell them to stop? And suggest that hell awaits those who don’t? That kind of confrontation isn’t becoming of the rainbows-and-butterflies Savior I frequently hear about.

And Paul, just chapters before he wrote that soaring “love chapter,” called his readers worldly, not spiritual. Then he used some biting sarcasm with them (1 Cor 4:8-13). Then he dared to tell them not to associate with sexually immoral people — in fact, to expel someone who was in their midst. Is there anything less accepting? Less hospitable? More likely to cause divisions and conflict?

Either we have misunderstood love, or Jesus wasn’t such a perfect example of love. We have misunderstood love, or that great author of the “love chapter” was himself a terrible example of love. We have misunderstood love, or a God who would call some people wicked and send them into eternal fire is not a God of love. We have misunderstood love, or we might as well discard the Bible that gives so many examples of judgment and exclusion and denial of particular human passions.

And then there’s the issue of whether, particularly in the recent homosexuality debates, our culture has privileged romantic love above all else. If so, I would argue that this is a rather modern turn and we might be cautious to believe romantic love should hold such a high and exclusive place in our values systems.

God is love

I believe that God is love, and yet I believe there are certain deeply ingrained human passions — perhaps even things we would say were in-born — that God tells us not to act on. Because to act on those removes us from the will of God.

I believe that Christ’s example was an example of love, but it was so loving that he warned people when they were on their way to destruction

I believe that Paul knew what he was talking about when he said “the greatest of these is love.” But I think when he told the Corinthians to expel the immoral person, he showed us a different sort of love than we’d like to accept today.

This quote from this article says it very well: “When we are tempted to hide or change a difficult truth (even a truth-as-I-see-it) in the name of love, we are guilty of a failure to believe that God is who God has revealed himself to be. Likewise, when we get so committed to certain truths that we ignore the hurt done to those we are called to love, we fail in faith.”

There must be a way to do both. It needs to begin with understanding what love is.

Do you believe in the kind of love exhibited throughout Scripture, or a different kind of love – a philosophical love that would reject much of what God, Christ, and Paul say and do in Scripture?

We can have our common cultural notions of love, or we can have the loving God of Scripture. I don’t think we can have both.