About a year and a half ago, I attended a lecture by the New Testament scholar and historian of early Christianity, John Dominic Crossan. If you have ever sat near me during a lecture, you know that I am a furious note-taker. This week, as I was preparing to preach about Messiahs, I pulled out all of my little notebooks and, I do believe magic exists, because I was able to find my notes from this lecture, and they were mostly legible. Across the top of one of the pages I found with pointing arrows and multiple stars (that’s how I delineate the important things in my notes), this quote of a quote: Crossan said that he attended a lecture in 1999 by Archbishop Desmond Tutu in Pasadena, CA (I told you, I am serious note-taker) and that Tutu had said this: “God, without you, won’t, and you, without God, can’t.” Crossan said that that was the best description of the historical Jesus he had ever heard or come up with himself in all his research. “God, without you, won’t, and you, without God, can’t.” Jesus was a practitioner of “collaborative eschatology” (another term I found in my notes) – in other words, the divine realm would not come in a blinding flash of God’s divine power sometime in the future, but it is already here, waiting for us to come together and make the peaceable realm a reality.

The historical Jesus was someone that Roman Civil Law identified as an “Author of Tumult” – or one that stirs up the people, and, according to Roman Civil Law, these authors of tumult were to be crucified, thrown to wild beasts, or deported (depending on your rank and wealth). In the case of an armed rebellion, all involved would be rounded up and crucified in a row. In the case of non-violent revolutionaries, the leader would be crucified as a warning to the followers: get in line, or this will be you, too. Fear is effectively used as a manner to control the masses. At the end of the Harry Potter series, Voldemort forces Hagrid to carry Harry’s lifeless body back to Hogwarts so that he can parade it in front of Harry’s friends and others who believed in him, as a means to stop the rebellion and force all to accept Voldemort’s violent control of the wizarding world. However, much like Rome learned with the death of Jesus, Voldemort finds out that after the death of Harry, none of Voldemort’s spells, none of his magic and considerable power can affect those that Harry died to save. Jesus and Harry Potter never did anything significant without their friends, except one thing: accepting death in order to save them, and something about that sacrifice, made the message of love that they preached unstoppable.

Now, I said that there were spoilers, and realize that Shelly told you last week that Harry won, and I am telling you this week that Harry died – so, I suppose you will still have to read the books…

For now, let’s look for a moment at the worldview of the Jewish people living under Roman rule at the time the Gospels were written. Mostly, I think, they would have seen the world as a really unfair place. Every empire that has come along has oppressed them. There is a discrepancy between their faith and their lived experience. If God is just, surely this injustice must end someday? How could they hold on to this God and their faith without the belief and hope that God was going to fix it. That’s what that “Kingdom of God” language is all about, not the end of the world, but the time when God will make things right; not the end of life on earth, but the end of living with evil, oppression, war, and violence. It’s what John Dominic Crossan called “The Great Divine Clean-up of the World,” and the people of Israel believed that a Messiah, a person chosen by God, would bring it.

There was a vast diversity of first-century Jewish faith traditions, so we can expect that there is also not one narrow definition of the nature and function of the messiah. However, we can draw a general picture of Israel’s concept of the messiah by tracing its development in the Hebrew Bible. The Hebrew word that messiah is derived from means “anointed one” and refers to the ceremony in which priests anointed the heads of those commissioned by God for a special mission or task. In the Hebrew Bible, messiah is most frequently applied to the kings of ancient Israel, particularly David and his descendants. Because of his outstanding success in establishing a powerful Israelite state, with a line of heirs ruling uninterrupted for nearly 400 years, David became the prototype of the divinely favored ruler, and his kingdom a foreshadowing of the reign of God on earth. Even after many centuries of foreign domination, Israel’s collective belief in God’s promise that God’s people would have a Davidic heir to rule them forever endured. This was reinforced by Israel’s prophets, who envisioned a future golden age when a man like David, “anointed by God”, a messiah, would rise up to liberate Israel, defeat its enemies, and help bring God’s reign to earth. You will recognize these words from the prophet Isaiah:

For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

Israel’s Davidic kings were literal Messiahs, anointed ones that ruled as sons of God and the coming Messiah was conceived to match: a warrior-like king, a hero who can establish the rule of universal peace by force. The Messiah was, therefore, primarily a political figure.

However, the Gospels present Jesus as not only the anointed monarch from the line of David, but also a lawgiver and prophet, a humble servant who suffers for others, a teacher, a healer, and a man of peace. This different take on the Messiah’s role must have been confusing and disappointing to many. Jesus never presents himself as a military or political leader. Jesus tells his followers to put down their swords. Jesus faces Pilate and tells him – “My kingdom is not from this world, if it were, my followers would be fighting for me.” In other words, “Your kingdom is based on force and violence, mine will not ever allow it.” When facing death, Jesus asks God to forgive his accusers. When Harry faces Voldemort for the last time, he also shows a different kind of leadership. He asks his friends to stay back, offers Voldemort the opportunity to express remorse a possibility for forgiveness, and when Harry utters his final spell against Voldemort, it is not an echo of Voldemort’s killing curse, it is Expelliarmus, the dis-arming spell.

It is clear that there are at least two kinds of Messiahs in our scriptures. There is the political and military leader and there is the one who comes riding into Jerusalem humbly, peacefully on a donkey, opposite in every way to Rome’s Emperor Son of God that enters riding on a war horse. The author of the book of Revelation, a great piece of Biblical fanfiction, can’t imagine that this simple man of peace and healing can really be it and reimagines Jesus using violent symbolism, including returning to earth on a war horse. Jesus is transfigured into a Messiah that meets popular expectations, a conquering warrior-king who slays his enemies and inflicts wrathful punishments upon his opponents. There are two kinds of Messiahs, indeed, and it seems to me, as Professor Dumbledore once said, “The trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.”

In the Harry Potter series, there are two kinds of Messiahs as well. Voldemort has all the makings of the popular political messiah: he is the heir of Slytherin, inheriting his incredible powers. He surrounds himself with only the pureblood wizards, and wants to conquer muggles (non-magic folk) and wizards alike. Voldemort has vowed to take the wizards out of hiding and place them positions of power and control over muggles. Obsessed with immortality, he names his devoted followers, “Death Eaters.” Like Roman emperors, he has placed puppet leaders in the Ministry of Magic and in the last book, we see a change in the lobby of the Ministry:

“A gigantic statue of black stone dominated the scene. It was rather frightening, this vast sculpture of a witch and wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones…Engraved in foot-high letters at the base of the statue were the words MAGIC IS MIGHT…Harry looked more closely and realized that what he had thought were decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.” Othering at its finest.

We begin to learn about classism and racism in the wizarding world in the first book, when Harry meets Draco Malfoy while they are each getting fitted for their school robes. Malfoy gives Harry a host of opinions, including his belief that only children of old wizarding families should be allowed into Hogwarts, purebloods only. When they meet again on the train on their way to school, Harry has befriended Ron Weasley, the 6th born child in a poor wizarding family (called blood traitors by some pureblood because of their kindness towards muggles). Ron is the first peer that we know of who is kind to Harry, and when Malfoy informs Harry that he can help him make friends with the right sort of wizards, Harry does not accept his handshake and answers with “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” Hermione, Ron, and Harry become a trio after a few chapters, after all, knocking out a fully grown mountain troll is something you can’t share without becoming friends, right? By the end of the books, Harry, “The Chosen One,” has surrounded himself not only pureblood and muggleborn wizards, but half-giants, house elves, werewolves, and the formerly incarcerated; he surrounds himself with love and kindness, the rest doesn’t matter. As the books continue, we get more glimpses of muggle prejudice, Malfoy’s use of the slur “Mudblood” for Hermione, who has muggle dentists for parents. Then, things that seem funny at first, like regurgitating toilets in muggle public restrooms, then we see muggles being used as puppets and playthings at the Quidditch World Cup, instances that increase in ugliness and horror until the Muggle-Born Registration Commission is formed, pamphlets are distributed: “Mudbloods and the Dangers they Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society.” Soon muggle-born wizards, including Hermione, are forced to go on the run or risk imprisonment for their falsely accused “theft of magic.” They are not allowed to occupy the same space as pureblood and deemed inferior to those in power.

Somehow humans throughout time have justified power over and control of other humans and blamed it on God or some other divine order. It’s what sits so wrong with me about the concept of a warrior messiah, coming to avenge and conquer on behalf of one kind of person. It’s what Ron said in the excerpt we heard today, “It’s ridiculous.” The divisions that the wizarding world made up and the divisions that we in the muggle world have made up – they are ridiculous. Anointed ones know the truth, and they surround themselves with Mudbloods, blood traitors, half-breeds, and Loony Lovegoods, or, in Jesus’ case: fisherfolk, tax collectors, children, and passionate outspoken non-Jewish women.

During a rebel radio broadcast in the seventh book, we hear two allies of Harry discussing ways to protect Muggles. “And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be ‘Wizards first’?” asked Lee. “I’d say that it’s one short step from ‘Wizards first’ to ‘Purebloods first,’ and then to ‘Death Eaters,'” replied Kingsley. “We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, is worth saving.”

The parallels to our context are astounding. It is important for us all to see the simple truth of this passage: that our responsibility as human beings does not extend just to the safety of people who are like us, but to all of humanity. That’s what the Messiah Jesus understood, and that’s what Harry understood, too. It’s a collaborative eschtology.

The Gospel of Thomas was written as early as the second half of the first century, at least 50 years after John’s Gospel. It is closely related to the sources for Matthew and Luke and shares many parallels with them. Gnostic theology is clearly present in the work; the basic religious experience for this community is not only the recognition of one’s divine identity, but more specifically the recognition of one’s origin and destiny. It is dualistic and disciples are asked to strip away the present, material, corruptible existence so that they can experience the new world, a realm of light, peace, and life. When I read this passage last week, I reflected on what Jesus knew and what Harry knew – that you can point to the realm of God – it’s certainly in the birds and in the sea as the writing goes, but unless you can name it as incarnational – dwelling within you, we cannot bring it to birth. As J.K. Rowling says, as you may remember, “we do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power inside ourselves already.”

Neither Jesus nor Harry are marked as chosen ones with traditional oil. Jesus is anointed in the water by his cousin, one who believed in the prophecies of a Messiah to come. Harry is marked with a scar by a powerful wizard who chose Harry because of a prophecy. Both Jesus and Harry realized that they had to claim the power given to them in order to bring a world of life, peace, and light into being.

As I was scrolling facebook this week, I came across a photo from last week’s workshop discussing White Privilege. It was a list of ways to become an ally including:
and, at the bottom it read: “One Thing: be a servant, not a savior!” And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s collaborative eschatology, “God, without you, won’t, and you, without God, can’t.” Or “You, without you, won’t, and you, without you, can’t.”

Very few people in the wizarding world speak Voldemort’s name aloud. Instead he is known as “You Know Who” or “He Who Must Not Be Named” – the evil, the fear is so great, so seemingly insurmountable, that it cannot be named. I wonder if it the name is terrifying because of who he is or because once something is named, we have to choose whether or not to face it, whether or not we are ready to know ourselves, and claim our place as children of the living God, willing to collaborate with others to bring change to a impoverished world.

We must believe that love, servanthood, and reconciliation is more powerful than hate, anger, and fear. That we are all Chosen Ones, and we all share the responsibility of bringing the realm of peace into being.

We don’t have access to Jesus’ inner monologue as we do Harry’s, but I imagine that Jesus also travelled a personal journey before he accepted that he had power – and had to make a choice about how he would use it. It’s hard work, the work of peacemaking, and even Messiahs get frustrated and discouraged. Jesus overthrows a marketplace in the temple, has a fit at a fig tree, and, once in desperation, asks for the cup to pass him by. Harry, upon losing the only parent figure he has ever known, erupts in anger and grief in Dumbledore’s office:

“I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE!”

“You do care,” said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. “You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.” “There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,’ said Dumbledore’s voice. ‘On the contrary… the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.”

Deep love and care for humanity and creation means opening ourselves up to pain. But, we must ask ourselves how we claim wholeness in a broken world. What Messiahs do we turn to? Do we believe love is our greatest strength – what keeps evil from taking hold of us? The role of a servant is not the easy path, but it is the one Jesus and Harry took and the one I have deep faith is the right choice. The good news is that we do not serve alone. We keep each other going and we serve together, side-by-side, mudbloods and disciples, until all of creation can proclaim that they are safe in the arms of love’s discovery and that all is well.

July 29, 2018

Talia Raymond