How Did The Execution Of An Innocent Man Change The World?

For millions of Christians across the world, Easter is the culmination of the mystery of their faith: the triumph of life over death, of goodness over evil, of redemption over sin. For those immersed in a culture that still has at least the outward trappings of Christianity - a generalised admiration for Jesus’ kindness, some element of “churchgoing,” albeit in certain pockets of society, and a general familiarity with the Christian story, however superficial - the fact that a convicted criminal who suffered an ignominious death changed the course of history may seem unsurprising or even natural.

But if we step back from the world we have grown accustomed to, and try to project ourselves into the pre-Christian, pagan world dominated by Rome, it is far from evident that the son of a Jewish carpenter who ended up tortured on a cross as a common criminal, could spearhead a movement that would radically alter the course of history and infuse societies across the world with a new language and a rather unusual, and dare I say, “un-natural,” set of values.

I say, “un-natural,” not in the sense that Christian values are inconsistent with human nature in its most elevated state, but in the sense that the sort of poverty, self-abnegation and self-abasement Jesus was preaching involves a denial of the all-too-human desire to avoid pain and discomfort, be raised up and highly esteemed by others, and enjoy the perks and comforts of wealth and good social connections.

The idea of modeling your life on that of a man whose life on this earth was extinguished in the most humiliating and cruel manner, and who promised that his own followers, like their master, would suffer persecution, seems unthinkable if you consider it at face value. Even though that suffering was dignified and ennobled by the idea that it is an act of love toward God and humanity, no serious or widely revered pagan philosopher would have advocated voluntarily embracing the cross of suffering for one’s own redemption and that of the whole of humanity.

Jesus’s phrase, “If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24), finds a partial echo in the Stoical idea of cultivating detachment from pleasures and goods of this life, as well as in the Aristotelian idea of disciplining the passions in accordance with reason. But neither the Stoics nor the Aristotelians premised their philosophies on universal love of humanity, nor would they ever consider the possibility of a voluntary martyrdom or death to self that only came fully to fruition in the next life.

Rather, self-renunciation was viewed by pagan philosophers almost exclusively as a path to a more virtuous and honourable human life, this side of death, or winning fame and a good name among one’s descendants. It was based on a quest for the higher forms of happiness in this life, not union with God in the next.

Now, I am not suggesting that Christians cannot be happy in this life, or that the rewards of their fidelity are confined to the next life. But the type of joy that Christians profess to seek - a joy amidst even the most gruelling forms of suffering - is beyond the grasp of the human mind, unassisted by faith. It is literally a “sign of contradiction” that a pagan mind, or a mind unenlightened by faith, cannot make sense of.

For it is one thing to undergo a calculated amount of suffering or self-denial for the sake of living a rounded and fulfilling moral life, and quite another to accept suffering without holding back, in conjunction with Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross, as a way of participating in the redemption of all of mankind.

Something similar can be said of Christian values like humility, unconditional love of humanity and forgiveness of one’s enemies. Pre-Christian societies did not typically envisage humanity as a single family under God, but through the lens of freemen and slaves, healthy and sick, wealthy and poor, rulers and ruled. For example, the Greek philosopher Aristotle considered those who did not have the benefit of Greek culture and education as “barbarians” unfit for freedom and self-rule.

If a marketing expert were asked to sell a movement, I doubt very much they would recommend the motto, “take up your cross daily, and follow me.” The puzzle is, how did a man who preached a message of radical self-abnegation and the washing of others’ feet, and was nailed to a cross in the most humiliating and cruel fashion imaginable, sow the seeds of a “quiet revolution” that took the Roman empire, and the world, by storm?

From the perspective of faith, if Jesus was indeed God, as he claimed to be, and the movement he founded was infused by God’s grace, then the explosion of Christian faith in the world might be explained by the miracle of a divine intervention in history. For those who do not share this faith, there is something deeply puzzling about the wide diffusion and historical duration of the Christian message and way of life.

David Thunder is the author of The Polycentric Republic and writes at the Freedom Blog.