The Superhero vs. The Crucified

Today is Thomas Sunday, the day we remember how Thomas wanted to put his finger in the marks made in Jesus’ hands by the nails and his side by the spear. He wanted to confirm that this man, the crucified one, was truly the one who rose from the dead. We, however, often miss the subtly about the crucified one rising from the dead. We tend to think that Jesus died as human and then rose from the dead as God. But if this is the case, then it’s no use for us, for our resurrection – after all, we aren’t God. (Reflections on Thomas Sunday)

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God the Superhero?

Many people have often told me, “I’m not religious, I’m spiritual.”

Indeed, this is a common conception in America, for a variety of reasons. Religion – as identified with the “church” – is seen by some as institutional, ridged, stuffy, or “not real.” When this is the case, religion is can be seen as oppressive, controlling, or legalistic (dare I say, bossy?).

And this is just the vision of the institution. The revelation of God that many people hear being preached from this point-of-view is just as problematic. God is boiled down to some sort of cartoon superhero. He’s up there – somewhere – doing his “god thing,” while I’m down here living my life, on my own. God is nothing more than a Santa Clause who may, on occasion, bring you a nice gift and make your life easier.

This sort of view, turns many people off – as well it should. It’s not real. But, when this is the prevalent view of God, then a proper reading and understanding of scripture is almost impossible. Even when the words are clear, the meaning is obfuscated.

A commercialized understanding of religion turns God into a “superhero.” It’s a superhero God who is able to climb up out of the grave and go to heaven. And, somehow, because he’s the hero, this is good news for us.

But how? And Why?

If you stop to think about it, it really isn’t good news. If Jesus was able to rise from the dead simply because he was God, how does that help us? I’m not a god, so when I die, how do I rise from the dead? How do I get out of Hades?

The answer is found by rediscovering true Christianity.

Defeating Death by Death

We have to listen more closely to what we are chanting these 40 days of Pascha:

“Christ is risen from the dead, by death trampling down upon death, and to those in the tombs he has granted life.”

It isn’t because Jesus is God that he rises from the dead, but it’s because he’s destroyed death by dying. This isn’t some sort of superhero strength that gave him a “get out of jail free” card.

The Fathers imagined Jesus as a giant fishhook. Death, thinking he was receiving into his realm just another human person swallowed Jesus without thought: hook, line, and sinker. But instead of Jesus being like every other human Death had swallowed, he found that he had swallowed Christ, who had the power to destroy him. In this way, Death was slaughtered and forced to spew up all the dead.

If we really ponder this, it should take our breath away. We typically expect a victory wrought by strength. But here, we find victory through defeat. Death is, after all, the ultimate defeat. Its weakness, sickness, and brokenness all wrapped up in one. It’s ironic that it’s through feebleness that Jesus conquers.

Using Our Death the Way Christ Used His

So, to becoming Christ-like and rising from the dead does not require that we become some sort of divine superhero – something we’re not. Instead, it means that we too fully embrace human frailty. We too are to die a death like his. We are to use our death in the same way he has used his (Fr. John Behr, The Cross Stands Still While the World Turns, pg. 71).

To die a death like Christ’s means that we first detach ourselves from this world; we need to die to ourselves, our ego, and our passions. Before we can ascend to God, we first have to loosen the ties that bind us down, otherwise, our death will be a painful separation from that which we love – from that which is material and passes away.

In other words, we have to kill our ego and those passions within us that keep us from dying like Christ.

The Fathers distinguish two overriding passions that prop up our ego: pride and greed (Oliver Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, pp. 134-5).

Pride is a passion of the mind, the nous. When it’s taken too far, our pride turns into vanity. This false glory turns into anger when the sought after recognition, approval, or admiration isn’t acquired as we want. And, when we’re disappointed in such a way, we fall into depression. Overall, we end up leading a life of greed, wanting nothing but more attention, more vanity.

The other overriding passion, greed, is one of the gut. Greed can turn into either debauchery (a love of sensual pleasure) or avarice (a love of money, possessions, and things). When these needs can’t be met, then we fall into depression because we can’t get what we want. Ultimately, we become angry at our failure.

These passions are ones that turn us inward and feed our ego. We forget to think about God or neighbor as we seek to our own interests. This sort of living is not life-giving. And, it’s definitely not dying a death like Christ’s. After all, Christ didn’t die seeking his own pleasure.

Dying like a death like Christ’s first requires that we kill off our passions. We need to put our ego to death. Fasting is the first step in doing this. Through fasting, we seek to change our relationship with the world. Instead of seeing the world as something to be consumed (as food or resources) or something to be possessed, we seek to see it as a means of contemplating God. It becomes relational – about a relationship, not consumerism.

The practice of stillness – the Jesus Prayer – also seeks to kill off our ego. Through this prayer, we silence our minds to be still in the presence of God.

When we’ve broken our need to control the world around us, and when we’ve silenced our own egos, then, in the silence, we can open ourselves up to love. Killing off our own desires, we can learn to love God and love our neighbors.

In this sense, we no longer live for ourselves, but for God and neighbor. This is the sort of death that Christ died. He died, giving up his life for us. We seek to do this same: living our lives for others. In this way, we fulfill the greatest commandment.

It is, at this point, that when someone looks at us, they see the likeness of Christ.

So, when Thomas asked to see Christ, to put his fingers in the wounds of his hands, and to put his fingers in the wound of his side, he was asking whether this risen Lord was truly the crucified Jesus, the one who had died.

Thomas wanted to know, was Jesus a superman who magically regenerated himself? Or, was this Jesus someone who had really tasted Death and defeated it?

The one Jesus is nothing more than a comic book story. The other Jesus is Life-giving.

Which Jesus do you believe in?

P.S. How Will You Die?

My patristics’ professor asks us all this question: how will we die?

Will it be with our hearts attached to this world, to our treasurers in this world, to our career, our family, our good image of ourselves? In which case our death will be a painful separation from all that we love. Or will it be a death that we willingly embrace even now, as we follow Christ, by taking up our Cross, dying to ourselves, to our ego, to all our passions, to all that ties us to this world, to live, as he did, for others – in love, in service, in compassion? (Fr. John Behr, The Cross Stands While the World Turns, pg. 71)

St. Elias the Prophet (419 N. Grandview Ave., Dubuque)
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