The Jesus of history, the Jesus of the biblical narrative, entered the world at the exact time and place to accomplish the exact purposes for which he lived. He came not just into a world dominated by political empire, but one bent on constructing religious empire as well – a religious setting filled with angst and hatred and one with a rich story of persecution at the hands of others; specifically Egypt, Assyria, Babylon – and now Rome. Many of his day believed that though they physically returned from exile hundreds of years earlier, there remained a spiritual exile as long as they lived under the oppressive reach of the Romans. And they would remain in that exile until a Messiah arrived to lead them to victory. It is their preconception of what that victory would look like, that singular-egoic-retaliatory view, which would prove to be their greatest demise.

We can talk all we want about the Jesus of the Sunday school flannel board, but the Jesus of history is of a different ilk. The Jesus of history came to rebuke a religious world that was out of hand. The Jesus of history came to proclaim a kingdom not of ‘their’ world. He knew that the world around him (political and religious) was about to implode, crashing down upon the heads of the citizens of Jerusalem. He understood that a message of love and longsuffering would not endear him to the masses; no, they wanted retribution. They wanted vengeance. And he also knew that the least tolerable of his world, those most angered by his message, would be the religious – those claiming to constitute the ‘true believers’ aligned with the ‘one true God.’ It was their way or the highway. And he was right.

In one of his messages he told his followers “If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you” (John 15:18). Anybody who has attended church for any length of time has probably heard those words repeated in sermons and Sunday school classes. Interestingly, the “world” in question usually ends up being portrayed as the secular or non-believing world. As the story is told, believers are so righteous they constitute some sort of holiness mirror in which the unbelieving world sees itself, is convicted of its sinful ways and therein retaliates with hatred. In some sectors of religion, being hated by the outside world is even something to be proud of.

If we read the text through to the end (or at least v. 25), however, we see a twist that we perhaps did not see coming. Jesus says that the reason why the ‘world’ would hate him is because “it was written in their law.” The world is, you see, a ‘religious’ world, not a secular one. The haters were religious.

Why is that?

This is where I’m drawn to look at the acting out of the false self – the ‘thing’ that arises within once ego is challenged. I think this is because ego attaches to form in order to make itself right, more (fill in the blank: holy, righteous, smart, insightful, saved, accepted, ad-infinitum). Once people attach to their belief system, any challenge of such gives birth to a strong defense mechanism – one that ultimately ends up going on the offense.

Not realizing that they are not their beliefs, they fight as if they are. Because they equate being right with being saved, they fight till the death. Not seeing their true self as Love, they tap the reservoir of their own ability to love (a ‘doing’ thing vs. a ‘being’ thing) only to discover that the well has run dry. And so they lash out with words or logic, the violence of questions or even turning the tools of hammer and nail into weapons.

When we see love as something that comes from within the self, it is surely the false self that is being drawn upon, something shallow and in limited supply. And when challenged, that false self is fighting for its life, for its survival, for its affirmation. And it will do so even to the point of justifying taking the life of another – even if it means putting a man on a cross.

The Jesus who I see kneeling in Gethsemane’s garden is not the Jesus who dies for a belief system. He is the Jesus who dies for Love. And Love, as I see it, is the divinity within us all – an inclusive idea that much of the religious world will attack with all its might. Ultimately, finding Love is finding the true self. It is the “welcome home” affirmation for which the world seeks.

Love is not dependent upon our belief. It is beyond anything we can fully do. It is inclusive of everyone and resides within all.

Love IS. And if a religious world finds offense within that message don’t be surprised – it won’t be the first time – and it certainly won’t be the last. This is how and why Jesus could die at their hands. He saw their true essence. He saw Love.

Today, when you interact with others, I hope you see nothing less than that as well. And if you do, you, too, will have lived and died for all the right reasons.