I’ve been thinking about tyranny a lot lately. It’s a word that
comes up now again during this age of The Great Pause. According to
Merriam-Webster Dictionary, tyranny can mean “a rigorous condition imposed by
some outside agency or force.” It’s the fourth possible definition of the word,
but I suppose if the shoe fits. The second definition has more of a historical
context, “a government in which absolute power is vested in a single ruler.” We’ve
danced with that condition as well in the last few years. What’s interesting to
me, as we celebrate Easter, is that Jesus was familiar with both these aspects
of tyranny.
Rome probably wasn’t the most tyrannical regime in human
history, but if we’re measuring political attitude on a sliding scale, Rome
does not flirt with “benevolent.” Jesus was a subject of Rome. Israel was
possessed by Rome, and the empire imposed many tyrannies, large and small, on
its subjects.
One of Jesus more memorable sayings, “If someone forces you
to go one mile, go with him two miles (Mt. 5:41),” was the direct result of
Roman military policy. For a time, Roman soldiers would conduct their marches wearing
no armor and carrying only a light sword. The heavier equipment trailed behind in
a wagon train. The army would pause before battle to “suit up.” Over time, opposing
forces learned that if they could attack the Romans before, or during, their
locker room moment, the chances of defeating them were much greater. About 100
years before Jesus was born, the Roman military went through a series of
massive reforms. One of the many changes was that soldiers now expected to
carry all of their own equipment and supplies with them on the march. In order
to lessen the physical burden, soldiers were permitted to stop subjects found
walking along the road and force them to carry the equipment for up to one
mile. This is one of the little tyrannies Rome imposed on its subjects.
While the occupying force of the empire was marching into your hometown, every
one of its members had the legal authority to stop you and force you to help
them. As Rome occupied your home, all your friends and family could watch you
marching along, a Roman helper. If social media had existed in those times,
this policy would have inspired a hearty “Rise Up!” from more than a few
participants, but Jesus response was the opposite. “If someone forces you to go
one mile, go with him two.” If someone imposes a tyranny upon you, use that
tyranny to bless him.
When it comes to Easter, we almost never hear about tyranny
in our churches, but its ugly stamp lies across the full breadth of Jesus’
death. Jesus was a Roman subject, not a Roman citizen. Citizens had rights. A regional
Roman governor, like Pontius Pilate, could not sentence a Roman citizen to
death without due process of law. That citizen retained the right to appeal to
the Emperor, to demand that he be taken to Rome for the supreme ruler himself
to hear the case. The Apostle Paul does this in the book of Acts, but Jesus was
not a citizen. Pilate had the right to execute any subject for any reason. He
had the power to command their crucifixion, a punishment typically off the
table for citizens. Jesus’ execution was the greatest of tyrannies. His charges
were fabricated, brought by a bumbling group of corrupt and jealous hypocrites,
and the stamp of approval given by a governor who was too weak or lazy to have
an argument with them. The greatest injustice of Rome was that they executed
the innocent Son of God and didn’t even notice. The tyrannical boot of the
empire ground its heel hard into ancient Israel, but in his life, Jesus barely uttered
more than a few sentences about it. Jesus was not overly concerned with
political tyranny.
At Easter, we don’t often use the word tyranny. We use words
like victory, love, and sacrifice. We don’t celebrate Jesus’ uprising against a
tyrannical empire, far more brutal than anything we’ve seen in our lives. That’s
what many of his followers expected, but its not what they got. Hebrews 12
tells us that Jesus, “for the joy set before him, endured the cross, scorning
its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” It seems that,
when faced with tyranny and injustice, Jesus saw a different path than uprising
and rebellion, and that choosing this alternate path was his glory.
Personally, I’m tempted to say that sometimes tyranny is
tyranny. Sometimes actions are so brutal, the bad guy just needs to be taken
out. Then I look at what Jesus endured. I’ve seen nothing close to that in my
lifetime, not even a sniff of it. When I consider that, I start to think that political
tyranny may be a myth, a phantom set before us to chase rather than doing more
meaningful things. We celebrate Christ’s death because it is the most beautiful
sacrifice, a gift none of us deserved, but one that altered the reality of the
world. Jesus obliterated Roman tyranny and turned it into the most beautiful
moment in history, by simply placing our well-being above his own. The difference
between tyranny and love, brutality and sacrifice, is the choice to act in love.
These days, we’ve been asked to do something “hard.” I don’t
mean to make light of it. It is hard. It is especially for those facing
financial uncertainty, or the loss of a business. There’s hardship there, but on
the scale of difficulty stretching across the human experience, this is almost
nothing. Measured against the last hundred years of American history, this might
bump into the top three “hardships.” We can chafe and groan against the
tyranny. We can rant about the perceived conspiracies and dishonesties of
nations, leaders, or media outlets. We can mock the scale of the medical threat,
and believe the narrative that we can accept a certain number of dead countrymen
in order to avoid poverty. We can do this, but I see very little of the way of
Christ in it.
On the other hand, we can deny the voices shouting in our
faces, mocking our commitment, and insisting that our concerns must come before
those of others. We can choose to endured the hardship of this moment because
of our love for others. We can trust the example set before us. In doing so, we
make tyranny irrelevant, for tyranny thrives on our desire for self. It
vanishes when we act in love for others.
I owe the phrase "The Geat Pause" to this article.
