The Episcopal Diocese of Bethlehem

Newspaper Columns by Bishop Paul V. Marshall


The Christ-Killer in My House
Bishop Paul V. Marshall
April 2000

Recent images of Pope John Paul II at Jerusalem's Wailing Wall provided stark reminders of the long history of oppression, abuse, and even murder committed, permitted, or unprotested by Christians -- our dark ecumenical stain on history, a grievous sin against God and the Jews.

Polish youths screamed at Jews headed for extermination that their suffering was vengeance for the killing of Christ. In this country, the Ku Klux Klan and other groups have justified their violence against Jews on similar grounds.

Mainstream Christianity, led by the example of Roman Catholicism, has worked to remove from thought and speech the idea that Jews are under God's wrath as "Christ-Killers."

At the same time, there are writers who believe that the accounts in the New Testament of the trial and execution of Jesus are not accurate reports because the overall scenario the gospels lay out would have been against the letter and spirit of the law at the time. This is odd, for from the trial of Socrates to that of Sacco and Venzetti, from the Inquisition to the internment of Japanese Americans and the Hollywood blacklist, we know how laws are bent or ignored when convenient.

I don't find it useful to try to get behind the four gospels. The ancient world did not understand the term "history" in the way we use it. Nor do I read the bible to determine what it might say to or about others. Reading the stories of Jesus' betrayal, trial and execution is moving for me because it exposes the Christ Killer in my house: me. If I want to pin the blame on anyone else, the story won't help me.

When I read of Peter's denial of Christ, I remember when I have not stood by friends because I feared social consequences.

When I read of Jesus before religious leaders, I recall when I have chosen the good of an institution over the need for justice.

When I read of Herod, I know when I wish religion to be a comfortable veneer.

When I read of Pilate, I know part of me concentrates on career issues.

When I read of the fickleness of the crowd, I see myself in a culture that does not really know what it wants.

Briefly, when I read about the death of Jesus, I see business as usual. I see how the system works. I see myself; and I see you, gentle reader.

Why bother with these ugly reminders?

The central teaching of the New Testament is that when human nature did its worst, God's love still pursued us. In the death of Jesus I see consistent love; in the resurrection I see love vindicated.

To understand this story is to ask a question: When will the system stop doing its worst? This story exposes evil for what it is: cheap and relentless.

George Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan asks if each generation will kill another Christ. Even more penetrating: Will we ever learn to see around us the opportunities to stop the killing?

We find token examples of evil needing to be corrected in each friend betrayed, each starving child, each victim of ethnic cleansing, every member of every dismissed minority.

Anyone who so understands Jesus' death realizes that the stories confront us with a life or death choice for daily living. Do my day-to-day words and acts bring death or life to this world? It is costly to give up business as usual, but it will stop the killing.

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