Each of the four Gospel writers draws out and emphasizes a particular aspect of the life, teaching, death and resurrection of our Lord. The differences we come across are not due to differences in the understanding of the facts of our Lord’s life and death. Rather, they arise as a result of the writers’ attempts to contextualize their significance and to respond to the different needs of the audiences they are addressing. All four agree as regards the major facts of Jesus’ life and ministry. Even the fourth Gospel, which describes Jesus’ visits to Jerusalem, does not dispute the choice of Galilee as the base for his ministry (John 1:46; 7:50-52). The portraits of Jesus and the perceptions of relevance, however, differ from one another, enriching our understanding of the significance of Jesus and his ministry.

It is generally agreed that Mark’s was perhaps the earliest Gospel, that Matthew and Luke followed Mark, and then John, the fourth Gospel, came last. Let us look at them in that order.

1. Mark: a theology of the power of powerlessness

That the ministry of Jesus was marked by many miracles of healing is in no doubt. That the early church believed that Jesus was raised from the dead is also not in doubt. Further, that the early church eagerly expected the return of Jesus to consummate God’s kingdom also cannot be challenged.

But two questions continued to demand the attention of the early Christian communities. First, an internal controversy on the position of the Gentiles. Second, all early Christian communities experienced persecution either at the hands of their Jewish compatriots or at the hands of the Roman state. There were no longer any miraculous interventions to save the martyrs from their persecutors. The Roman state was as powerful as ever and the Jewish religious leaders as unrepentant.

The Gospel of Mark sought to respond to both these situations. We are not told exactly where the Gospel was written. We are not told the name of the author of the Gospel either. Tradition attributed it to Mark and presented him as the interpreter of St Peter. We do know that John Mark had a home in Jerusalem (Acts 12 :12), and that he accompanied first Paul and Barnabas and then Barnabas alone in their missionary journeys. Acts is silent about Mark’s association with the apostle Peter. But we do know from 1 Peter 5 :13 that he was with Peter in Rome. So in all probability Mark wrote his Gospel in Rome. Early manuscripts of the Gospel end with verse 8 of the last chapter. Because it ends abruptly, it is generally believed that Mark was prevented from completing the Gospel.

As already mentioned, the context that gave rise to the Gospel was that of persecution. It is probable that Mark was trying to encourage his community in the wake of the persecution unleashed by emperor Nero, in the course of which, according to tradition, both Peter and Paul and many other Christians were killed. So it is understandable that Mark develops a theology of powerlessness.

The Gospel begins with the announcement that the Gospel is the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God. The “Son of God” title has a twofold reference. It points to the divine origin and the divine status of our Lord. Indirectly it also makes the point that the crucified Jesus is the real king. Jewish scriptures as well as Roman custom gave the title “Son of God” to kings and emperors. Mark must have been aware of the tradition about the birth of Jesus. He prefers not to mention it. He would much rather that Jesus is seen as God’s Son through the verifiable facts of his life and, even more, through his powerlessness on the cross.

Mark achieves this purpose in a dramatic manner. First he proceeds to adduce evidence for his opening statement by drawing attention first to the witness of John the Baptist and then to the heavenly voices that spoke at the baptism of our Lord.

Mark’s next attempt is to show that Jesus behaved like a person with kingly authority. After announcing the imminence of God’s kingdom and calling people to repent and believe in that good news, Jesus proceeds to choose the disciples. We are not told of any prior acquaintance Jesus may have had with Peter, Andrew, James and John. He sees them at their work place, beside the Lake of Galilee, and asks them to follow him. Without hesitation they respond to that call. The call narratives of Mark show clearly the rightful claim Jesus has over fellow human beings (Mark 1:16-20).

After the call of the four fishermen comes the story of the casting out of the demon which had possessed a man, at the synagogue in Capernaum. This demonstration of authority evokes the exclamation “What is this? A new teaching! With authority he commands even the unclean spirits and they obey him” (see Mark 1:27).
Then in chapter 2 Mark points to the authority of Jesus to forgive sins. The paralytic, who was let down through an opening made in the roof, is greeted by Jesus with the words:

“My son, your sins are forgiven.” This provokes the indignation of the religious leaders. They are convinced that only God has the authority to forgive sins. Jesus, by healing the paralytic, shows clearly that he has the power to forgive.

Next, Jesus affirms his authority over the sabbath. The Son of Man is the Lord of the Sabbath (Mark 2:28).
In the final episode, which proves beyond question the authority of Jesus, it is nature that obeys him. The wind and the sea obey his command. “Who then is this when even the wind and the sea obey him ?“ the disciples say to one another.

So according to Mark, Jesus has full authority over all aspects of the created order. He calls people, and they follow him; he forgives sins; he heals the sick; he casts out evil spirits; he reinterprets the meaning of the sabbath; he commands, and the wind and the waves subside.

It is this Jesus who becomes a helpless victim of the power of this world.
But all this demonstration of divine authority fails to communicate who Jesus really is and what his mission is to be. The dramatic turning point comes when Jesus asks his disciples what people think of him. They report that there are a variety of views. Some said he was Elijah. Others said he was the Baptist come back to life. Yet others thought he was a prophet. Among the people not many seemed to have thought that he could be the Messiah.

Peter, acting as a spokesman for the disciples, now confesses that Jesus is the expected Messiah. Although the tremendous display of power and authority had indicated that Jesus could be the long-expected Messiah (the Christ), even Peter has little understanding regarding the nature of Jesus’ Messiahship. The display of power and authority had in fact led to a mistaken notion of Messiahship. Peter could not understand why the Lord had to die. The disciples remained confused until the very end. That was why one of them sought to betray him. Peter denied any acquaintance with him. All the others fled, and forsook him.

While open manifestations of power and authority failed to communicate the nature of Jesus’ mission, the cross communicated who he really was, and that to a Roman soldier. The centurian in charge of the crucifixion perhaps came to know of Jesus only after he was brought before Pilate. He must have observed the way Jesus uncomplainingly went through all the mockery and torture. He must have heard that he had claimed to be the king of the Jews. A strange king indeed! He had no arms. He had no friends. He did not raise his voice in protest.

Then, just before the crucifixion, Jesus refused to drink the wine mixed with myrrh. And after a while the “king of the Jews” dies with a desperate cry on his lips: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?“ Mark records only this one utterance Jesus made from the cross, the so-called cry of “dereliction”.

Whether it was a cry of dereliction or whether it was in fact a cry of faith we do not know. In all probability it was the latter. For Jesus was trying to reaffirm his faith, reflecting on Psalm 22 which is a psalm of faith and not of despair. But the centurion could not have known that and would not have understood it if he had. To him the cry could only have been a cry of dereliction. Yet, after witnessing Jesus dying in apparent despair, the centurion, a Gentile, comes to a remarkable conclusion: “Truly this man was the Son of God.”

The centurion could not have expected the resurrection of Jesus on the third day. There were no indications of authority or power, nor indication that this was not the end. Yet in the helpless victim the centurion recognized God’s own Son (Mark 15:39).

This is the high point of Mark’s Gospel. The resurrection, as far as Mark was concerned, did not prove that Jesus was the Son of God. It only followed as a natural conclusion. The grave had no power to hold the Son of God who died as king on the cross.

Kingship consisted not in manifestations of power and authority. Divine kingship consisted in being a helpless victim along with other victims. And, just as resurrection was inevitable, so too will be the vindication of all unjust suffering of men and women. Therefore, instead of falling into despair at the apparent powerlessness of all victims of injustice, we should take heart from the cross and be convinced of the power of powerlessness. The forces of evil cannot prevail against those who suffer for righteousness’ sake. This is the good news for all time.

This, no doubt, is an affirmation of faith. Struggles for justice and human rights are often suppressed. The people involved in them are killed. They disappear, more often “are disappeared”. The future appears as bleak as ever, and there is no sign of the resurrection.

A recent example is the students’ struggle for democracy in Burma. It was crushed. Thousands were killed. But because Jesus died on the cross we cannot see that as the end. Should we not say of those young people who were tortured and killed, as the Roman centurion said of Jesus: “Truly these are the children of God”?

That response is far more than a cure for despair. It is to believe that God had a vested interest in that non-violent struggle, and that the suffering that accompanied it was not pointless. God was involved in that suffering. As the lamb slain from the foundation of the world, the Son of God suffers in all such suffering. That indeed is the process of salvation, and that is a continuing process.

If this is true, then we cannot just be onlookers. We too have a part to play. We must seek ways of encouraging those who suffer and reducing their suffering. We must hold them up in our prayers. We must put pressure on our own governments.

Perhaps we should also note the startling implications of a Gentile Roman soldier confessing Jesus as the Son of God while the same truth was hidden even from Jesus’ disciples. Many who do not follow Jesus in the ways of the church have begun to perceive depths of meaning in the cross of Jesus which are hidden from the eyes of the church. We need humility to acknowledge it. Our salvation depends also on that humble recognition of a revelation to which we have no monopolistic claim.

2. Matthew: the gospel to the poor

Those who have studied Matthew’s Gospel have always been puzzled by a different kind of paradox. On the one hand it seems to say that Jesus came exclusively for the Jewish people.

He sends out his disciples charging them not to go among the Gentiles’: “... go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (10:6). He says: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (15 :24).

On the other hand, the Gospel has an undeniable universal thrust, and suggests that the kingdom is to be taken away from Israel and given to another “nation” (ethnos) (21 :43). How do we resolve this paradox?

Many scholars have concluded that these contradictory emphases are because an original Jewish gospel was adapted by a later editor to suit the changed circumstances of the emerging community. The original Jewish Christian community has now become a predominantly Gentile Christian community. So the universal emphasis, according to them, is a later one. This view is difficult to sustain. For example, the genealogy with which the Gospel begins, in spite of its Jewish thrust, includes within it reference to four Gentile women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba. We must look for an explanation which allows at once for the exclusive emphasis on Israel and the call to make disciples of all nations in the Great Commission.

The answer to the riddle is perhaps hidden within a special understanding of the phrase “lost sheep of the house of Israel”. Who, according to Matthew, were the lost sheep of the house of Israel?

It is highly probable that Matthew set out to answer the repeated Jewish objection: “If indeed Jesus was the Messiah, why did he not gather the scattered people of Israel ?“ The Jewish people had fondly nourished the hope that when the Messianic age dawned the scattered people of Israel would return to Palestine. Obviously Jesus was not concerned about this. Yet, in order to show Jesus to be the Messiah, it was necessary to show that Jesus was the Shepherd gathering together the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

What Matthew does, in one sense, is to redefine the meaning of the phrase “the lost sheep of the house of Israel”. The lost sheep of the house of Israel, as a concept, probably arose from the prophecy of Micah 4:6-7:

People in exile are stateless. They are unwanted foreigners in strange lands. Lameness, the inability to go where they want to go, is an apt description of their situation.

In the second half of the book of Isaiah, two more metaphors are used to describe the afflicted state of Israel in exile. They are now described as blind and deaf (42:16, 43:6-8). The stateless-ness and all the consequent suffering Israel in exile underwent were strikingly brought out by describing them as lame, blind and deaf.

In the time of Jesus, however, the Jews of the dispersion were much better off. They probably had little idea of returning to Palestine permanently. They had prospered. They had established synagogues in the places where they lived. The First Testament had been translated into Greek. They themselves spoke Greek and had often forgotten Hebrew and Aramaic. They made their annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and that was the extent of their homesickness for Palestine. They could not any longer be described as harassed and helpless, as blind, lame and deaf.

On the other hand, within Israel there were many groups who in fact lived as exiles in their own community. The Galileans were despised. The tax-collectors were looked down upon. Women were marginalized. The poor were objects of pity. The handicapped, such as the blind, the lame and the deaf, were considered unworthy to enter the temple. Their presence, it was feared, might defile the temple, and so they were made to sit outside and beg. The people stricken with leprosy were totally ostracized. These were the people who were as sheep without a shepherd. They were scattered, and for all practical purposes outside the community. Jesus’ ministry of gathering together was directed towards these people.

This could well be what Matthew suggests by the repeated reference to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Jesus starts his ministry in fulfilment of Isaiah 9 :2f. The Galileans have been made “to sit in darkness” because they are considered as secondclass Jews. It is to them that Jesus first sent his disciples. That the disciples were not to enter Gentile and Samaritan homes should be seen in the light of Jesus’ mission to create community where already provisions for a community existed. It was more a strategy than a principle. Even Israel, which should know better, had stratified society and marginalized the poor, the women and the physically handicapped. A model community, a new ethnos, made up of the ostracized and the marginalized groups, had to be formed first.

This understanding receives further confirmation by Jesus’ reply to the disciples of John the Baptist. The Baptist too was perhaps waiting for Jesus to go into Gentile territories, to call the Jews of the dispersion to return to Jerusalem. But he only hears of Jesus’ work within Palestine. So he begins to doubt whether he had made a mistake. He sends a fact-finding mission.

Jesus asks the disciples of John to go and tell him what they see and what they hear: ‘... the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up and the poor have good news preached to them” (11:5). Later, after John’s disciples have gone, he draws attention to the fact that the prophecies of Micah and Isaiah are being fulfilled right within Palestine. Those who gather together are not the scattered ethnic Israel but the scattered poor within Israel. The kingdom belongs to the poor and they are the new nation. Anyone who is poor in any nation can become part of this new nation.

The poor, however, are broadly defined to include even the rich tax-collectors because they are rendered poor through the denial of a sense of belonging to the community. That is why Matthew redefines the poor as poor in spirit. The poor in spirit of the Sermon on the Mount does not refer to spiritual poverty. It refers to all those who, in one way or another, are marginalized or ostracized, those whose spirits have been diminished through oppression.

The argument of Matthew that the kingdom belongs first and foremost to the poor is unambiguously and dramatically developed when he retells the story of our Lord healing the daughter of the Canaanite woman (15:21-28).

This is a Marcan story (Mark 7:24-30). To many this story gives acute embarrassment. How can Jesus be so narrow-minded? How can he repeatedly say that he will not give children’s bread to dogs? Could Jesus have really thought of Gentiles as dogs? Perhaps he was only testing the depth of the woman’s faith.... So run the explanations of embarrassed commentators.

In fact, Matthew seems bent on causing embarrassment. For until the very end Jesus does not even talk to the woman. He carries on talking to the disciples as if she were not there.

Matthew flukes it even worse by identifying the woman as a Canaanite. In Mark she is simply described as a Syro-Phoenician woman, a Greek. Now by telling his readers that she is Canaanite, a new emotive content is brought in quite deliberately. For some mysterious reason the word Canaanite had acquired quite negative connotations. In Zechariah 14:21 the hope is expressed that in the last day the Temple would be cleansed by throwing out the (Canaanite) traders. In all probability the word had acquired more than an ethnic meaning; it had also a “class” connotation, to use modern jargon. Matthew must have wanted to suggest that she represented the class of the oppressors.

We have already seen that for Matthew the phrase “the lost sheep of the House of Israel” probably referred to a particular class, the class of the oppressed and the marginalized sections of the community. According to Matthew, in the present story, the controversy is not between a Gentile woman and Jesus as a Jewish man. No, the controversy, rather, is between a representative of the oppressor and the Saviour of the oppressed.

If that is so, Jesus meant exactly what he said. He had come only for the lost sheep of the house of Israel. The way in which others could benefit by his presence was only by conceding the primacy and priority of the oppressed. The tables are now turned. According to capitalist theory the spill-over benefits of a free economy will reach the poor. Luke pointedly refers to Lazarus as one sitting at the gate of the rich for what fell from the rich man’s table. The Lord says that in the kingdom of the poor the rich will have to be content with the spill-overs from the table of the children, that is, the poor.

The moment the Canaanite woman recognizes the reason for such reversal she too is included among the poor. This is the only way for the non-poor to inherit the benefits of the kingdom. That seems to be the point of the story. And that has implications for all of us.

The question is often raised: “Why the poor?” Simply because the poor are closer to the values of the kingdom. Let me share an experience from my own life to illustrate this.

One of our workers was a man called Charlie. He had a large family. One day he told us that his niece would also be living with them as her mother had died and the father could not support her. This started a conversation. It became in no time a conversation between a middle-class, well-educated “development’ worker and an illiterate, “unskilled” farm-labourer.

We had assumed all along that although the poor earned meagre salaries, if they could be thrifty and careful they could manage. So my first question was how he would manage when already it was a daily struggle to make ends meet. He said: “We are not going to cook additional food for her, she would share what we have. It only means we add an extra handful of rice.” “Would not one handful every time mean quite a lot in the end ?“ I asked. Charlie said without hesitation: “Yes. But already we are used to going hungry at least once a week. Now it will mean that we shall have to go hungry for one more day in the week. That’s all. We are used to hunger and it will not hurt.”

Then the conversation turned to accommodation. Charlie had only one room and a little verandah. So I asked: “How can she be accommodated in your small house ?“ Charlie said: “In our single-room house there isn’t room for everybody anyway; our children sleep on the verandah every day, and she can sleep with them.”

I was annoyed by Charlie’s obstinacy. I said to myself:
“When will people ever learn ?“ Then I forgot all about this little episode. Teaching a course on the Synoptic Gospels to students in the seminary brought home to me the truth of the primacy of the poor in Matthew’s Gospel in a most forceful way. And once the truth about the primacy of the poor began to take root in my mind, I recalled my conversation with Charlie. That poor man certainly has primacy in the kingdom. He was willing to share what he had, spontaneously and sacrificially. My middle-class upbringing had almost automatically brought about an alienation from the needy.

We organize our lives according to the rule: “Spare what you can but do not get into unnecessary trouble trying to help others.” But the poor are ready to share in the midst of their poverty. In this regard the non-poor surely should learn to pick up the crumbs of mercy falling from the tables of the poor.

3. Luke: the Gospel of peace

On the basis of a few isolated passages which refer to the poor and to Jesus as possessing the spirit of liberation in Luke 4:l8ff., Luke’s Gospel has been taken as the great Gospel of liberation. In fact, Luke’s distinctive contribution lies in the spirit of reconciliation and harmony that marks his account of Jesus. The message of liberation is by no means compromised, but Luke shows how the rich can become participants in the gospel to the poor through repentance and a changed way of life. He strikes a more irenic note than Matthew. With regard to other issues too, he proceeds with caution, suggesting a spirit of compromise all through. In order to get an idea of Luke’s method we must refer to his second volume as well, the Acts of the Apostles.

In Matthew the recurring emphasis is what is contained in the verse: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.” There is a clear polarization between the externalities of religion and the secret inward piety known only to God. Luke, on the other hand, portrays Jesus as a man who went regularly to the synagogue and who observed the discipline of private prayer. The contrast is not between the external observance of piety and genuine personal piety, the stress rather is on the content of piety. Luke presents a Pharisee and a publican at prayer in the temple. The difference between them is in what they pray for.

On the rich and the poor Luke has much to say. He records the song of Mary, “The Magnificat”; he presents Jesus’ parents as poor people who could only afford turtle doves as an offering for their first born; he faithfully presents Jesus’ beatitudes to the poor and his “woes” against the rich: he includes the parable of the rich fool and of the rich man and Lazarus. No wonder we get the impression of a clear polarization between the rich and the poor.

But Luke does not suggest that the rich can be saved only by giving up all their riches. He shows a different way. He does register Jesus’ approval of those who give up their riches and follow the Lord in pursuit of the kingdom.

But at the same time he underlines that such abdication must be done voluntarily and wholeheartedly, as in the case of Barnabas, and not like Ananias and Saphira (Acts 4:34-5:11). The early community put no pressure on anyone to follow the example of Barnabas. For even during the time of Jesus there were different patterns of holding and giving. Zacchaeus gave away half of his wealth to the poor. The women who followed Jesus spent their money in support of his ministry (Luke 8:1-3). Joseph of Arimathea used his wealth and power to secure the body of Jesus and to give it a decent burial. Luke’s suggestion seems to be something like this:
“It is ideal to give up one’s possessions to the poor and follow Jesus. It may be, however, that you are only able to give half of what you have. It may also be that you are not motivated to give up anything; rather you would like to use your wealth and power for the furtherance of the kingdom. However, those who create wealth and keep it for themselves and those who create wealth through wrong means are surely under judgment. They are totally excluded from the kingdom.”

Luke proceeds in the same way with regard to other divisive issues also. For example, one of the most sensitive issues was the mission to the Gentiles. Therefore, in his account Luke draws special attention to the universality of the gospel in several ways.

He records for us the song of the angelic host at the birth of Jesus and of Simeon in the temple. The song of the angels proclaimed “peace on earth” and the song of Sirneon refers to Jesus as the light that reveals God’s mercy to the Gentiles. In the famous parable, Jesus commends the Samaritan who helped the wounded Jew on the road to Jericho, and the Samaritan who, cured of leprosy, came back to thank Jesus when the others did not care to do so. Luke then records a saying of Jesus which looks forward to the time “when many will come from east and west and from north and south and sit at the table in the kingdom of God” (13:29).

It is interesting to note the difference between Matthew and Luke in the use of this saying. In Matthew the saying is found in the story of the healing of the centurion’s servant. There the Jews (who think they are the sons of the kingdom) are warned that they would find themselves excluded and their place taken by Gentile believers. But in Luke the contrast is not between Jews and Gentiles. Rather, it is between genuine belief which takes the believer (Jew and Gentile) through the door on the one hand, and a shallow faith which would lead to hell where there will be gnashing of teeth, on the other. While Luke is concerned that the Jewish Christian church should accept Gentile believers, he is not prepared to suggest that Jewish people would be excluded from the kingdom and their place given to the Gentiles.

This irenic tendency can be seen more clearly in the way in which he shows Peter as the first one converted to Gentile mission, and James, the head of the Jerusalem church, in whose name some were creating division in the churches, as the one to suggest a formula of compromise acceptable to both sides so that the unity of the church may be preserved.

Luke avoids any mention of the conflict between Paul and Peter in Antioch (see Gal. 2:11-21). Rather, in Acts 15 Peter speaks supporting Paul. Luke does draw attention to the obstinacy with which Jewish Christians refused to accept Gentile believers unless they underwent circumcision and became Jews. But he does not gloss over the trauma which Jewish believers experienced when Gentiles accepted the way of Jesus. He portrays Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles, as willing to accept the leadership of James and thus to remain in unity with the church in Jerusalem, through accepting the formula of compromise.

With regard to church-state relationship too, Luke tries to walk the narrow path of peace. Many have hastily concluded that in his desire to project a clean image of the church, Luke has tried to paint too good a picture of the relationship between Paul and the officials of the Roman state. While it is clear that Luke is no advocate of armed revolution, he does not think that the Roman state is a just state either. As on other questions, he presents both sides of the issue with clarity. He suggests, however, that the political powers that are, can be saved only through repentance, and the accepting of God’s offer of forgiveness in Christ.

Luke must have been aware of the strong Jewish sentiments against any counting of heads. Even so he presents Joseph, a native of Bethlehem, now living in Nazareth in Galilee, as obeying without protest the call to register himself in his home town. He takes with him his wife Mary, now in an advanced stage of pregnancy. The baby, as we know, was born in a stable. Luke does not conceal the identity of Jesus. The angelic host announcing the birth of Jesus calls him Christ the Lord.

The moment he is designated as “the Lord” it is clear that the claim of the emperor to the title is challenged.

At one point in the narrative, Luke writes of some Pharisees, who seem to have had secret knowledge of Herod’ s intention to kill Jesus, warning him and urging him to leave Herod’s territory. Jesus says: “Go and tell that fox, ‘Behold I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course”’ (Luke 13 :32). Jesus does not hesitate to refer to Herod as “that fox”, and he refuses to surrender his freedom.

Jesus was brought before this very same king through Pilate’s political manoeuvres. Pilate and Herod had not got on well with each other. Pilate sends Jesus to Herod as a gesture that signals his willingness to recognize the authority of Herod Antipas and to live in peace with his old rival. Luke concludes with the statement — that very day Herod and Pilate became friends. The story of the alliance thus formed through making Jesus a political pawn is of remarkable relevance for our times.

Luke was not only critical of the tetrarch Herod for whom Rome had no great regard. He makes his assessment of Rome also quite clear. The accusation against Jesus was that he claimed to be Christ the King. When Pilate asks Jesus whether he is indeed king, Jesus answers: “Yes, it is as you say.

From the prayer of the church recorded in Acts 4, it is clear that Pilate and Herod were equally guilty. Pilate, and through him Rome, cannot be absolved. Jesus was totally innocent, and Luke underlines this.

To sum up, Luke’s Gospel proclaims peace on earth. The peace that Luke advocates may appear as peace achieved through compromise. That is not so. The peace which Luke presents as a gift brought to earth by Jesus is peace with justice. Those who exploit people and serve the god of money have no place in God’s kingdom. They have either to relinquish their riches and appropriate the kingdom of the poor or serve the cause of the kingdom of the poor through their wealth, status and power.

Jews and Gentiles form a new community of “Christians” (Acts 11:19-26). But in that process Jewish Christians must learn that God accepts people of all nations who fear and serve him (Acts 10:34-35). Gentile Christians must give up some of their old and possibly pernicious cultural practices for the sake of the common fellowship. They must abstain from “the pollutions of idols and from unchastity” and they must give up some of their food habits which could offend the more fastidious Jewish Christian brothers and sisters (Acts 15:19,20). Finally, whether Jews or Gentiles, rich or poor, men or women, all had to learn to give up values and structures of domination and exploitation. People should learn to have everything in common so that everyone could have according to one’s need and not to satisfy one’s greed.

Such a society will automatically produce just structures of administration. Christ the Lord will then become the king of peace in their midst. He will, however, keep on handing over his kingdom to people, saying: “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” or “I confer on you a kingdom, just as my Father conferred on me (Luke 12:32, 22:29). But in the end it is no kingdom at all, for there will be no king. People will all serve God, and be servants of one another. For all our failures in understanding and practising this in the past God in Christ offers forgiveness and gives us his own Spirit. This is the Gospel according to Luke.

The irenic approach of Luke has its own specific application in many modern situations. The sudden shrinking of the world into a global village through unprecedented developments in transport and communications has ironically created new distances and barriers. Ethnic and communal rivalries have become commonplace. As the differences between extremes of wealth and poverty become more and more glaring and the aspirations of people for freedom and affluence increase, insecurities and anxieties are also becoming increasingly evident. As a result, communal rivalries that resort to mindless violence against one another are an everyday feature of life. Therefore, peacemaking becomes more and more urgent.

Paradoxically, Luke offers a way out of our impasse through that enigmatic saying of our Lord in which he declares: “Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division...” (12:49-53). Our Lord envisages that even well-knit families will break up when the fire he came to cast is kindled.

The message seems to be clear, set within the context of Luke’s comprehensive presentation of the Gospel. Existing solidarities need to be broken up and new solidarities must emerge. India today is a tragic example of how old solidarities can destroy community. Sikh solidarity in Punjab, Islamic solidarity in Kashmir and Hindu solidarity elsewhere hold the government to ransom and threaten to tear apart the fabric of the nation. True peace will emerge only when the false peace of these narrow solidarities is broken. The situation challenges people of all religions to cross barriers and work together for the common good.

Such a venture will involve the cross for the peace-makers. They will have to suffer the accusation of being betrayers of their communities. Theirs is the way of martyrdom, but that is the only way forward. For the Christian community in India the present situation poses an enormous challenge. At present there is little indication of any awareness of it.

4. John: the Son of Man, lifted up, will draw all people to himself

The world is under the dominion, not of its Creator, God, but of the prince of the world, the father of lies, the devil. The world, all those who have willingly accepted the rulership of the prince of the world, will be judged. Countless people, however, are helpless victims. They are not willing subjects but have been enslaved. For the world’s religions, including the Jewish religion, have succumbed to the lies of Satan (John 8:42-46). The world’s political powers too have come under satanic domination. Pilate, standing before the One who is the Truth, asked:

“What is truth?” (John 18:38). He was responding to Jesus’ statement that everyone on the side of truth listens to him.

Thus, according to the Gospel of John, not just the religious bigots but the political rulers too are governed by falsehood and therefore by the father of lies. John, understandably, could not afford to be explicit about the latter, as he could be about religious powers. But the hint is eloquent enough for those on the side of truth. All people have to be freed from the bondage of the prince of the world and his agents. This was precisely what happened and continues to happen through Christ the Son of Man. The judgment, however, takes place when the Son of Man is lifted up, not to heaven but on the cross. This is the gospel according to John. How does John see this gospel unfolding itself in the life and death of Jesus the Son of Man’?

The text in which this theme is most clearly worked out is in chapter 12:31-33. It reads as follows:
Now is the time for judgment on the world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself.

Jesus uses the first person pronoun “I”. The people ask: “We have heard from the law that the Christ will remain forever, so how can you say ‘The Son of Man must be lifted up’?’ Who is the Son of Man’?” (12:34).

“Who is this son of Man?” This is our question too. The author of the Gospel knows that without answering that question the meaning of our Lord’s words cannot be fully grasped. Through the expression “lifting up” John would also have us refer back to two earlier sayings. In 3:14 and 15 we read: “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” In 8:28, to the specific question “Who are you ?“ (v.25), Jesus replies: “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know who I am.” The lifting up of the Son of Man was to be the point of revelation and the source of inspiration.

But who is the Son of Man? We saw earlier that Jesus must have used this form of self-reference with a view to calling attention to the expression ~‘one like a son of man” in the Book of Daniel. There it is a corporate image, representing the suffering Israel as a whole. The son of man is now vindicated, and given the kingdom by the Ancient of Days, the Lord of history. The son of man in Daniel is the corporate representative of the saints to whom the sovereignty, power and greatness of all the kingdoms under heaven will be handed over. The saints are the people of the most high.

By referring to himself as the Son of Man, who is to judge the world and cast out the present ruler of the world, Jesus clearly suggests that he incorporates in himself the suffering Israel. By extension, Jesus embedded in himself the whole of suffering humanity.

Christ, for John, is eternal. He predates the incarnate life of Jesus and he is in relationship with the whole of humanity. This is writ large throughout the Gospel. John is also at pains to point out that it is as the Son of Man that the Son of God has been given the authority to judge (5 :27). Simply because the Gospel speaks of the Son of Man as the One who came down from heaven, we need not hesitate to see the Son of Man as incorporating in himself all of suffering humanity. To John, the judgment of the world and the casting out of the ruler of the world are ongoing processes, not a once-for-all event.

That process is seen as a turning away from the world and its ruler and as a turning towards the Son of Man (i.e. the suffering and victimized humanity). It is through that process that all people will be drawn together around the lifted-up Son of Man.

It is interesting to note that this text (12:31-34) is found in the context of the Greeks coming to see Jesus. The narrative seems deliberately to avoid any contact between Jesus and the Greeks who had expressed a wish to see him. And, strangely, at the end of the episode we are told that Jesus went and hid himself (v.36), almost suggesting that for some reason Jesus was not ready to see people of other faiths as yet.

In order to perceive the Johannine intention, therefore, we need clearly to understand the evangelist’s portrayal of Jesus as the Son of Man. The Son of Man is the One who has come down from heaven (3:13). Judgment is entrusted to the Son (i.e. Son of God) because he is the Son of Man (5 :27). But judgment belongs to the Son of Man neither because of his heavenly origin, nor because of his risen glory, but because he draws every one to him as he remains lifted up on the cross.

This paradox is important, especially because, historically speaking, when Jesus was crucified, exactly the opposite of gathering took place. When the Shepherd was struck the sheep were scattered. Therefore, the gathering together of all people must be seen, not with reference to the historical cross of Jesus only, but as happening everywhere, whenever people are gathered in solidarity around those who suffer unjustly as a result of the continuing conspiracy led by the power of culture, religion and politics. Such solidarity denounces the prince of the world. People no longer fear him; they refuse to be intimidated by his instruments.

We have mentioned a few such instruments of the ruler of this world through which he keeps people captive. Culture inhibits in many ways. The inhibitions become internalized. For example when a physically handicapped person is made to believe that he or she is unfit to serve God; or when a widow in my culture is made to think that her presence is inauspicious and defiling; or when a poor man is advised to accept his lot as destined by God. When such people realize the nature of the conspiracy of dominant cultures and are emboldened to gather around the Son of Man who has been lifted up, the world of unjust values and structures stands judged and its ruler is discredited. So far as the victims of oppression are concerned, the gathering around the Son of Man means becoming free from their internalized inhibitions and becoming bold to denounce the powers. This too is a kind of repentance.

For many others, however, the Son of Man who has been lifted up means a different kind of repentance. They are made to see that, in so far as they acquiesced in injustice and enjoyed the fruits of it, it is their sin which sent Jesus to the cross and that it is their sin which continues to oppress and victimize the powerless. They too have to say “no” to the ruler of the world and learn to distance themselves from all the powers which the world puts at their disposal, and from the processes and the fruits of injustice. This way of categorizing people is perhaps a little too simplistic. For many of us are guilty of both. We are victims and tyrants at once. For example, a poor person joining hands with other exploited people in a struggle for just wages may, at the same time, be a male chauvinist; he niay take caste and class distinctions for granted; he may be a party to communal and ethnic intolerance. But such categorizing does help us to see that in the Son of Man who is lifted up there is a common healing for both kinds of sin.

The changed lives will be marked, on the one hand, by freedom and, on the other, by a strong bond of solidarity with all those who continue to be victims of the conspiracy of human culture, religion and politics. The oppressed and the oppressor are drawn together, and all are liberated.

Let me once again give an example from my part of the world. In the Kodaikanal Hills near Madurai, two hundred families of repatriated Tamil workers from Sri Lanka were turned into bonded labourers by the labour contractors of a large company. It was done with the connivance of a powerful minister of the state government who had vested interests in the company, and of the district administrator who would not go against the interests of his political boss. The people’s plight of near-slavery was first identified by a group of school children who belonged to a Christian private school run by the American mission. The local sub-collector, the number two officer in the district administration, was an honest and upright man. He heard of the condition of the workers from his wife who worked in the school in an honorary capacity. He is a Sikh and he had been a social activist during his student days. Rarely do such people become bureaucrats and, if they do, rarely do they remain uncorrupt. This man was an exception. He took prompt action to set the workers free.

A Roman Catholic priest who had been in touch with these people also became aware of the officer’s integrity and his readiness to take action. He encouraged the bonded labourers to stand together boldly. For much depended on their willingness to be set free and their readiness to face trouble in the process. As soon as the sub-collector ordered their freedom, his boss, under instruction from the minister, revoked his orders and accused the sub-collector of being a subversive Sikh terrorist agent bent on disrupting the administration and creating social disturbance.

It was at this stage that some of our friends, a group of young lawyers committed to justice, were drawn into the struggle. They appealed to the supreme court, with the support of an organization functioning for the liberation of bonded labourers, headed by a devout Hindu, Swami Agnivesh.

While the legal battle was being fought, the labourers were laid off from work. They were practically kept under house arrest, for the minister whose vested interests were at stake and who held the portfolio for conservation posted guards around the forests as a conservation measure!

We had to find ways of reaching these people with food. Providing them with basic food, rice, lentils and salt (no oil, no vegetables, no meat) alone cost a considerable amount of money. The money was raised through public collection, and many sympathizers were thus drawn in. The support of the national press meant that the struggle and what led to it were widely publicized. Finally, the supreme court set up a commission of enquiry. The people have now been freed, and currently live on government dole, pending full rehabilitation.

However, the Sikh officer has become the victim of a witch-hunt. The police even tried to implicate him in an arms scandal. Fortunately they miscalculated the strength of the solidarity of the people and the friendship that had developed among members of various religious communities. The headmaster of the school, an Australian, was also victimized. His visa has not been renewed.

The repatriated bonded labourers WOfl their freedom, not just physically, but spiritually as well, for they had to learn to stand together. The middle-class socially conscientized groups of people, the press and the large sections of the public who normally acquiesce in oppression — this involvement provided a measure of spiritual freedom to them as well. The children of the school, who came from very rich families, in so far as they identified themselves with the bonded labourers and raised money and gathered clothes and blankets for them, also experienced a measure of liberation. The fellowship with the Hindu ascetic committed to the task of liberating bonded labourers brought a new dimension to the solidarity experienced.

But while all this was going on, certain groups of Christians were deeply critical. This, they said, was not our Christian calling. It was politics. We ought to be faithful in preaching the gospel and should not waste our time on such worldly matters. One very devout and very rich Christian lady said: “Are we not all slaves? Then why should we bother about these few slaves ?“

We must recognize that we have to work against the weight of a Christian history which has been largely triumphalistic, narrow and exclusivist. The majority of Christians and Christian institutions continue to participate in this history. Therefore, whether we should see mission mainly in terms of church growth is a pertinent question.

There is also the other question arising out of the bonds of friendship we established with people of other faiths. Their standing with God cannot be lower than ours. So, what should be our task in mission?

A Christian who has tasted the friendship of the crucified and risen Jesus. and who has been drawn into the sphere of meaning described above, cannot but continue to seek to share his/her experience. But such sharing has to be done with humility, because we know that God can draw people to himself in diverse ways. We should be able to identify this multifaceted action of God and seek to cooperate with him. For this the risen Lord sends his Spirit upon us, and sends us into the world, to he present among and with all victims of oppression and to identify ourselves with their longing for fullness of life.