If Jesus Had a Substack Page

His gentleness and wisdom seep through the centuries

I’ve been rereading Jesus.

Not the Son of God. Divine utterances resist evaluation. If God’s perfect, no good and bad days, no editing’s required. If not, scoot!

I’m rereading Jesus of Bethlehem, son of Mary and (ostensibly) Joseph, a guy like me, trying by saying to make sense of his hour. Not the Jesus from whose teachings and example sprouted an immense church, but a guy with a few frightened followers, executed as a public pest.

Through millennia, his eloquence startles. Listen!

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (Matthew, 11)

Ask and it shall be given. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened for you.  (Luke, 11)

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. (Matthew, 5)

Behold I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. (Matthew, 10)

And on and on, unforgettably, twenty centuries later: what craft, balance, images, consolation!

I used to shy from reading Jesus because I wasn’t a Christian. By Christian I meant my parents’ sniffy sect. I liked the music but not the do’s and don’ts or smug satisfaction of church. Why were Episcopalians better than Presbyterians, Catholics, or (Heaven help us!) Baptists? To define myself I had to separate from my parents and their faith.

Now, curiously, in response to our depraved moment, I find myself in the moralizing line, where Jesus is king of the hill. This is Jesus the itinerant preacher, competing with countless wannabe rabbis, Jesus with a Substack, not victorious, infallible, with a flaming sword; not encased in theology – transubstantiation versus consubstantiation, physical or metaphorical resurrection, etc. – but coping with everyday grief and concerns, how to eke from suffering joy, hope from dread.

This Jesus I revere – as deathless, yes, for his words are – but not perfect – I could do with less insistence on his unique superpowers – and turning the other cheek isn’t always wise – but best of breed, as Shakespeare’s best of his. Jesus’ gentleness and wisdom seep through the centuries. I listen rapt.

Moralists were rebuffed by my generation as agents of oppression. Those in power talked a big game and gave us… Vietnam, Jim Crow, the glass ceiling, Watergate, Stonewall Inn, and all the disappointments of our age. When President Carter dared to preach us a sermon he was hooted down (and a fine sermon it was). We wanted to be free – to act, speak, dress, embrace as we pleased – live and let live, anything goes.

Erosion of moral precepts left our once high-minded democracy teetering on the brink of tyranny. “Love thy neighbor as thyself?” -- gimme a break! Get all you can by whatever means became our national avidity. Bully, rape, sneer, gloat, taunt Jesus as a joke!

Morality is never new. The old lessons must be reclothed for we forget. Have we ever needed Jesus more?

Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven." (Matthew, 5)

No man hath greater love than this but to lay down his life for a friend (John, 15)

For what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his soul? (Mark, 8)