Super Jesus
John 6: 1-21
I have trouble with miracles. It is not as if I don’t believe that anything is possible with God, but the miracle stories we read in the Bible have always left me pondering. If they happened as written, then an obvious question emerges, what the heck has God been doing since then? Or if they didn’t happen that way, why were they written; what exactly did the Gospel writers want us to know about the life of faith? Perhaps the trouble with miracles is not that wild events occurred, not that they leave us questioning or waiting for God, but maybe the trouble with miracles is that it becomes nearly impossible to for us to see Jesus as human, as one of us and as one we might follow.
Indeed miracles leave us wondering how Jesus could possibly be human at all. And some Christians actually contend that he wasn’t. The thinking goes something like this, “Though he looked like one of us and seemed to be one of us, he was really God in human form… But this view is actually one of the earliest Christian heresies known as Docetism, which comes from the Greek word meaning “to seem” or to “appear.” Jesus appeared to be human, but he wasn’t.
Contemporary Christian author, Robert Capon writes, “The true paradigm of the ordinary American view of Jesus is Superman.” He continues, “Jesus- gentle, meek and mild, but with secret, souped-up, more-than-human insides- bumbles around for thirty-three years, nearly gets himself done in for good by the Kryptonite Kross, but at the last minute struggles into the phone booth of the Empty Tomb, changes into his Easter suit and with a single bound, leaps back up to the planet Heaven. It’s got it all- including, just so you shouldn’t miss the lesson, kiddies: He never once touches Lois Lane.” His tone is whimsical to be sure, but he points to a deep and abiding reality held by many Christians in this country and throughout the world: Jesus is a superhero. And much of the Gospel stories would lead a person to believe that such a label is accurate. Jesus can feed thousands with just scraps of bread; bring dead people back to life and walk on water with ease. He looks like a man and yet he has powers far beyond. But as Marcus Borg writes, “a figure who has superhuman powers is ultimately not one of us. Jesus’ humanity is lost. And when Jesus’ humanity is almost eliminated entirely it makes it difficult for those of us who seek to do what he did. We are left in the dust as the superhero goes on with his business of leaping tall buildings and swooping in and out so quickly there isn’t even time for a chat.
For much of American Christianity, it seems that Jesus has a white robe instead of a cape and has opted for flowing hair instead of the gelled back do of Superman, but he is basically a holy hero. And along with claiming Jesus has a super hero comes a particular kind of faith- a faith that is mostly about believing. Being a Christian in this Super Jesus world is about “believing that Jesus as the Son of God was divine, just divine and thus capable of divine feats. Further, the litmus test of faith is about one’s ability to proclaim with profound conviction that Jesus is in fact something like a superhero, carrying powers that only he could have and engaging in behavior resulting only from his unique status.
But as much as I yearn for a superhero to slow a speeding bullet or halt colliding trains or to stop a tragedy with the stroke of his hand, I am not so sure that Super Jesus is the Jesus whom God sent to us. To be sure, there is a lot that we simply cannot explain about our Transcendent God, but it seems as if the image of Super Jesus gets us off the hook. Super Jesus lets us sit in our pews and celebrate that time so long ago when miracles happened. Super Jesus can do it all for us and we can thank God that we have been rescued. And maybe that is just the reason that this image has become so popular. It is so much easier.
If we hold up the image of Super Jesus then we need not bother doing what he did. When we are faced with more than five hundred homeless and hungry people on Cape Cod, we might not even attempt to join Jesus on the shore when he took the loaves and fish and gave thanks and offered nourishment to each and every hungry heart. When faced with a hurting world that we cannot avoid, we might not take the first small step toward healing, why bother?
If Jesus is a superhero, what role is there for us? How is it possible for us to follow? What point is there in even trying to do what he did or loving who he loved or caring for whom he cared if he could only do it because of his superhero status? Why bother imitating Christ, as Paul invites us, if we will always fall short because in the end we are just lowly mortals with good intentions and high hopes? Isn’t it possible for us to uphold our conviction that Jesus is the revelation of what can be seen of God in the form of a human life, while still recognizing his humanity? Isn’t it possible for us to proclaim that what was miraculous about Jesus was not that he did things that only he could do, but that he in fact inspired those around him to do exactly the things that he did?
Many of us were taught that Jesus’ miracles, like the one we heard today, were the acts that confirmed his identity as the messiah. But what if Jesus is our Christ, not because he was a superhero, but because he was not and managed to change the world anyway? What if what is truly miraculous is not that Jesus could feed thousands or walk on the surface of the water without sinking, but that his presence among ordinary, insecure and timid people could calm their anxieties and cause them to walk where they feared to walk before? What if Jesus invited us to do what he did, to become his disciples, not because of his superhero status, but because he proved that we have everything we need to change the world? What if these miracle stories are not so much about Jesus, but about us? But maybe that is more frightening. Maybe it is more earth shattering, more heart rattling, more life shaking to know that we have what we need right here to do what Jesus did. Hear these words by Marianne Williamson, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory ... that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
I guess the real trouble with miracles is not that wild events occurred, not that they leave us questioning or waiting for God, but that we have been fooled into thinking that miracles require a superhero. When miracles are labeled as exclusively those literally incredible things we read in our Bible, the wonder of divine grace that permeates the whole of life, the holy mundane of everyday is deprived of witness. What if we don’t need Super Jesus? And if we don’t, then instead of asking what the heck God has been doing since Jesus fed five thousand people and walked on water, we might slowly step out and risk the question that changes everything: why not me?
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Marcus Borg, Jesus: Uncovering the Life, Teachings and Relevance of a Religious Revolutionary (New York: HarperOne, 2006), p. 9.
Robert Capon, Hunting the Divine Fox (New York: Seabury, 1974), p. 90.
Marcus Borg, Jesus: Uncovering the Life, Teachings and Relevance of a Religious Revolutionary (New York: HarperOne, 2006), p. 10.
Douglas John Hall in Feasting on the Word, Eds. David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2009) p. 288.