Nothing is more destructive to the Christian faith than the current identification of Christianity with love.

If God wants us to be more loving, why do you need Jesus to tell us that? And if Christianity is about the forgiveness of our sins, then why did Jesus have to die?

If God is all about love, in other words, why go through the trouble of being this man, Jesus? Why did God not just tell us through an appropriate spokesman (it could have been Jesus) that God wants us to love one another?

God, in such a faith, becomes that great "OK" who tells us we are OK and, therefore, we are taught we should tell one another we are OK. But if Jesus is the proclamation of the great OK, why would anyone have bothered putting him to death? There must have been some terrible failure in communication.

One of the problems with the identification of Christianity with love is how such a view turns out to be both anti-Semitic and anti-Catholic. The Jews and Catholics become identified with the law or dogma, in contrast to Protestant Christians, who are about love. Such a view assumes that any form of faith that creates divisions must be retrograde because such a faith is not about being loving.

Of course, when love becomes what Christianity is all about, we can make no sense of Jesus's death and resurrection.

For example, consider how the temptation narrative of Jesus in the fourth chapter of Luke must be read if Jesus is all about love. It is as if we think Jesus went out to find himself. We are told that he "was driven out" to face the devil no less, but, of course, we know such language is "mythical." Such language was used to help us understand the spiritual struggle Jesus must have been going through - that is, he was confronting the existential nothingness of existence which was necessary for his ability to make an authentic choice about how he would live his life.

Returning from this desert, the disciples note he looks as if he has been through a very rough time. "Man, you look like you have been to hell and back," they might say. (No doubt they must have said something like this, for otherwise how do we explain the language of being tempted by the devil?) In response Jesus can be imagined to say, "You are right, I have had a rough forty days, but I have come to recognize what God wants from us. So I feel compelled to lay this big insight on you. I have come to realize that God, or whatever we call that we cannot explain, wants us to love one another. There, I have said it and I am glad I did."

Ask yourself: if that is what Jesus is all about - that is, getting us to love one another - then why did everyone reject him?

They did so, I think, because when Jesus was told by the devil that he would be given the power to turn stones to bread, he refused; when Jesus was offered authority over all the kingdoms of this world, he refused; when he was offered the possibility he would not die, he refused. Note that Jesus was offered the means to feed the hungry, the authority to end war between peoples, and even the defeat of death itself. But he refused these goods. He did so because Jesus knows God's kingdom cannot be forced into existence using the means of the devil.

But note that Jesus's refusal to play the devil's game does not mean that the kingdom he proclaims is not political. Jesus's work is political, but the kingdom politics he represents is one that comes through the transformation of the world's understanding of how to achieve good results. Jesus refuses to use the violence of the world to achieve "peace." But that does not mean he is any less political or that he is not about the securing of peace.

It is, therefore, not accidental that, after the temptation narrative, we see Jesus in a synagogue on the sabbath reading from the scroll of Isaiah. The passage he reads says:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favour. (Luke 4:18-19)

After reading this, Jesus said, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." The offense is not that Jesus wanted his followers to be loving - the offense is Jesus himself. Jesus is the politics of the new age, he is about the establishment of a kingdom, he is the one who has created a new time that gives us the time not only to care for the poor but to be poor. Jesus is the one who makes it possible to be nonviolent in a violent world.

We should not be surprised that Jesus is the embodiment of such a politics. After all, Mary's song promised that the proud would have their imaginations "scattered," the powerful would be brought down from their thrones, the rich would be sent away empty, the lowly would be lifted up, and the hungry would be filled with good things. Is it any wonder that the world was not prepared to welcome this saviour?

The politics of Jesus

Jesus was put to death because he embodied a politics that threatened all worldly regimes based on the fear of death. It is quite instructive to read any of the crucifixion narratives from this point of view, but the account of Jesus's trial and crucifixion in the Gospel of John makes the political character of Jesus's work unavoidable.

Consider, for example, how the arrest of Jesus makes clear the political character of Jesus's ministry. His arrest is often thought to represent the apolitical character of Jesus because he commands Peter to put away the sword Peter had used to cut off the ear of the priest's slave. To be sure, Jesus rebukes Peter, but he does so because that is not the "cup" the father has given him. But the cup from which Jesus must drink is no less political for being nonviolent. Indeed, Jesus's command to Peter is one of the clearest indications that Jesus's challenge to the powers of this age is not only political, but also a transformation of what most mean by "politics."

The character of Jesus's politics is manifest in his response to the high priest who questions Jesus about his teachings in John 18:19-24. That he is questioned by the high priest may suggest that his mission was "religious" rather than political, but such an account cannot be sustained for no other reason than Jesus's answer:

"I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in the synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said."

Politics is speech and Jesus is at once the speech, the word of the Father, and the speaker. Nothing is hidden because the kingdom Jesus brings in his person is open to all.

Frustrated by Jesus's response, the priests take Jesus to Pilate. There can be no ambiguity about the political challenge Jesus represents before Pilate. Pilate is Roman authority; he is an authority who has the power to determine whether those who appear before Roman governors live or die. Pilate obviously does not like the position in which he has been placed by those who bring Jesus before him. Jesus's accusers, however, indicate Jesus is obviously guilty - otherwise why would they have Jesus appear before Pilate? But Pilate refuses to be bullied, so he examines Jesus.

He begins in an inquiring fashion: "They tell me that you are the King of Jews. Is that true?" Pilate's question is obviously meant to see if Jesus is "political." Jesus responds by asking if Pilate came up with such a view on his own or did others tell him such was the case. "I am not a Jew, am I?" replies Pilate. To which Jesus responds, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here."

This is a response used often to deny that Jesus was political. But note that Pilate understood what Jesus was saying: "So you are a king?" Pilate rightly saw that Jesus' denial that his kingship was not of this world is not the denial that Jesus is king. No, Jesus denied that his kingdom was just another form of Rome. Jesus's kingdom is not like other kingdoms of this world, but rather his kingdom is one that is an alternative to the kingdoms of this world.

Jesus does not deny he is a king, but rather says, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." (John 18:37) Pilate responds the way the world must respond when so confronted, that is, with worldly cynicism: "What is truth?"

The truth, of course, is that the Father has sent his Son so that we - that is, the church - might be an alternative politics, a politics of truth, to that of the world. The world's politics is based on violence, believed necessary given the absence of truth. It is kill or be killed.

But that is precisely the politics that has been overwhelmed in Christ's death and resurrection. A people have been created through the work of the Spirit to be an alternative politics to the politics of the lie - lies so blatant that we believe they must be true as otherwise they are so absurd - lies that lead us to believe that "peace" can be achieved through war. In his book The Original Revolution , John Howard Yoder helps us understand the political character of the salvation wrought in Christ:

"'The kingdom of God is at hand: repent and believe the good news!' To repent is not to feel bad but to think differently. Protestantism, and perhaps especially evangelical Protestantism, in its concern for helping every individual to make his own authentic choice in full awareness and sincerity, is in constant danger of confusing the kingdom itself with the benefits of the kingdom. If anyone repents, if anyone turns around to follow Jesus in his new way of life, this will do something for the aimlessness of his life. It will do something for his loneliness by giving him fellowship. It will do something for his anxiety and guilt by giving him a good conscience. So the Bultmanns and the Grahams whose 'evangelism' is to proclaim the offer of restored selfhood, liberation from anxiety and guilt, are not wrong. If anyone repents, it will do something for his intellectual confusion by giving him doctrinal meat to digest, a heritage to appreciate, and conscience about telling it all as it is. So 'evangelicalism' with its concern for hallowed truth and reasoned communication is not wrong; it is right. If a man repents it will do something for his moral weakness by giving him the focus for wholesome self-discipline, it will keep him from immorality and get him to work on time. So the Peales and the Robertses who promise that God cares about helping me squeeze through the tight spots of life are not wrong; they have their place. But all this is not the Gospel."

The gospel is the proclamation of a new age begun through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. That gospel, moreover, has a form, a political form. It is embodied in a church that is required to be always ready to give hospitality to the stranger. The gospel is a society in which difference is not denied but used for the discovery of goods in common. It is, as Yoder observes, a society called into being by Jesus who gave them a new way to live.

He gave them a new way to deal with offenders - by forgiving them. He gave them a new way to deal with violence - by suffering. He gave them a new way to deal with money - by sharing it. He gave them a new way to deal with problems of leadership - by drawing on the gift of every member, even the most humble. He gave them a new way to deal with a corrupt society - by building a new order, not making the old. He gave them a new pattern of relationships between man and woman, between parent and child, between master and slave, in which was made concrete a radical new vision of what it means to be a human person. He gave them a new attitude toward the state and toward the "enemy nation."

That is the politics begun in Christ. That is the "good news" - that we have been freed from the presumed necessities that we inflict on ourselves in the name of "peace," a peace that too often turns out to be an order established and continued through violence.

Is it any wonder that Jesus was despised and rejected? Is it any wonder when the church is faithful to Christ that she finds herself persecuted and condemned? Yet if such a church does not exist, the world has no alternative to the violence hidden in our fear of one another.

Resurrection

Some may say that with all the talk above about death I seem to have forgotten the resurrection. The Father raised Jesus from the dead. Surely that is what Christianity is about - securing eternal life. All the talk about the "politics of Jesus" fails to recognize that the work Jesus did was to make it possible for us to enjoy God forever. I certainly have no reason to deny that we have an eternal destiny made possible by Jesus's good work, but too often I fear the stress on "eternal life" spiritualizes the work of Christ. As a result, the political character of Jesus's resurrection is lost.

Too often I think Christians think about the resurrection in terms of a story told by Soren Kierkegaard about a prince riding through his field. The prince sees a peasant girl gathering the crops. She is beautiful and the prince falls instantly in love with her. However, he is a noble prince and does not want to overwhelm her with his power and riches, so he dresses in peasant clothes and goes to work side by side with her.

Kierkegaard notes that what holds our attention as such a story is told is our curiosity about when the prince will show his true identity. We know the prince and the peasant girl will fall in love - after all, she is beautiful and he is noble so we know they will love one another. But we want to know when and how the prince will reveal to his beloved that she has fallen in love with the prince himself. We let our imaginations run. Perhaps one day they share a lunch during which he tells her of his love. She confesses she also loves him and suddenly he rips back the peasant clothes and reveals the purple. Or perhaps he will wait until the wedding itself. They exchange vows at the end of which he tears away his rough clothes to reveal that through this marriage she has become the queen of the land. If we are really letting our imaginations run, we might think he waits until the wedding night itself.

Kierkegaard uses this story to suggest that we think the resurrection must be like a prince who has been hiding the purple under his rough clothes. The resurrection reveals the purple. However, Kierkegaard notes the only problem with this way of thinking about the resurrection is that Jesus has no purple under his flesh. Jesus is peasant clothes, flesh, all the way down. He is not playing at being a human. He is human all the way down.

The resurrected Christ is the crucified Christ. Only such a Christ, moreover, can save us. For Jesus is the Christ, being for us this particular man making possible a particular way of life that is an alternative to the world's fear of one like Jesus.

Christians have no fantasy that we may get out of life alive. Instead we have a saviour who was in every way like us, yet also fully God. Jesus is not 50% God and 50% man. He is 100% God and 100% man - he is the incarnation making possible a way to live that constitutes an alternative to all politics that are little less than conspiracies to deny death.

Such a saviour does not promise that by being his follower we will be made safe. Rather, this saviour offers to free us from our self-inflicted fears and anxieties. Jesus does so not by making our lives "more meaningful" - though we may discover our lives have renewed purpose - but by making us members of his body and blood so that we can share in the goods of a community that is an alternative to the world.

Stanley Hauerwas is Gilbert T. Rowe Professor Emeritus of Divinity and Law at Duke University Divinity School. His most recent books are Approaching the End: Eschatological Reflections on Church, Politics and Life and War and the American Difference: Theological Reflections on Violence and National Identity.