We have no king but Caesar

When the fledgling city of Rome was founded (traditionally, in 753 B.C.), it didn't have a whole lot going for it. In fact, according to tradition, in order to build a population large enough to sustain the city and protect it from intruders, the first king, Romulus, threw open its gates to all homeless and wandering riff raff, most of whom had already been kicked out of their previous cities. In that vein, Romulus is also credited with devising a fairly elaborate hoax in order to abduct the women (also quite lacking in early Rome) of a neighboring tribe and make them their own.

Over the next 500 years, however, that small, insignificant city would grow into one of the largest and most dominant empires the world has ever known.

The Romans accomplished this through a program of constant conquest and warfare, first taking over their own Italian Peninsula and then turning their sights on the dominant powers of their time, the Carthaginians (think: Attila the Hun) and the Macedonians (from whom had come Alexander the Great).

To illustrate this point, the historian, Livy, tells us that the second king of Rome, Numa Pompilius, had a temple built in honor of the god Janus (the god of hospitality), and instructed that, whenever Rome was at peace, the doors to the temple would be open, but, when she was at war, they were to remain closed at all times.

Want to know how many times the doors to that temple were open, from the time it was built (around 700 B.C.) until the time Livy wrote about it (around 30 B.C.) - a span of almost seven hundred years?   

Twice. 

Warfare was considered a Roman virtue, and victorious generals were welcomed home with lavish and extravagant parades, called Triumphs, in which they marched their men and all the spoils of their conquest through the city of Rome, to the loud and incessant cheers of her people. 

However, in all that time of bloodshed and expansion, never once had the Romans turned their weapons on themselves. For example, when the lower classes demanded more rights and protections against unfair treatment by the ruling class, they didn't do so through violent revolution (á la France or America of the late 1700's). Rather, they packed up their stuff en masse, and moved out, until the ruling class realized they needed them and granted the protections and representation they desired.

Yet, as the military evolved along with the empire, that was not to last.

Initially, being a member of the Roman army was a sure sign that you were a member of the aristocracy. Armor and weapons were very expensive and only the wealthy had the ability to leave their estates and occupations in order to fight, which put warfare firmly outside the reach of the working class.

But who wants to spend all their time fighting, when being born in the ruling class affords the promise of wealth and ease at home?

Soon, the upper class citizens figured out they could pay members of the lower class to go to war on their behalf and the face of the Roman army changed completely. Early on, when they were all of the same social class, generals may have exercised authority over their soldiers on the battlefield, but the loyalty of the men was to their land, to Rome, and not especially to the generals who led them.

However, once the army was composed of the lower classes, who owned very little if any land at all, its loyalties began to change. 

At first, the Capitol provided a wage for these lower class men who served in the military, but, over time, in order bolster their commitment, the generals began to supplement that wage with money and land until, eventually, some took over sole responsibility for providing for their men.

As a result of that shift, aspiring generals could travel the countryside enlisting men by promising them wealth and prosperity, and what they acquired were legions who were loyal to them and not explicitly to Rome.

The first general to realize the power that came with that shift was Lucius Cornelius Sulla.

Outmaneuvered and shamed by a political rival, Sulla became the first man in the history of the empire to march his army on the city of Rome, itself. Having rounded up and either executed or expelled the supporters of his rival, Sulla believed he had secured his position within Rome and that life would return to normal. Instead, it seems, he merely initiated what would be almost a full century of rival generals and civil war.

First, Sulla's rival, Marius, who'd somehow managed to escape, rounded up an army of his own and marched on Rome while Sulla and his men were off fighting the Macedonians.

Then, when Sulla returned, he again marched on the city (this time, Marius had actually died of old age, even before Sulla came back).

After Sulla died, a man named Pompey used the support of his own men to secure his place as leader of Rome.

Yet, he was soon unseated by someone (about whom you may have heard), named Julius Caesar. Caesar looked to be, perhaps, the first man able to hold on to the power he had secured, but, unfortunately, as we know, it was not to be.

Caesar's assassination touched off a struggle between three other generals: Caesar's protege in the senate, Brutus (of the famed et tu, Brute?); Caesar's favored military commander, Antony; and a young man who was Caesar's great nephew (but was adopted as Caesar's son, in his will), Octavius.

When the dust finally settled, and after he had marched his own army into Rome, it was Octavius who emerged the victor.

While the war still raged, out of its distaste for Antony, and in order to curry favor with Octavius, the Senate (almost entirely powerless at this point) had voted to declare Julius Caesar a god (around 42 B.C.). As a result, Octavius had taken up the title divi filius, "son of god," and now he set about establishing a rule that would be reflective of that title.

He twice amended the Roman constitution in order to secure ultimate political and military control of Rome; when the pontifex maximus, or "chief priest," died in 12 B.C., he simply took the title for himself, making him supreme over all aspects of Roman life; and finally, in the year 2 B.C., he had himself declared pater patriae, or "father" of the whole empire.

~-@-~

Now, imagine you are a man or woman from a dusty corner of the Roman Empire called Judea, part of a province called Palestine that was won from the Parthians by a Roman general named Pompey, around the same time that Julius Caesar was starting to make a name for himself in Roman politics.

You are standing along a road that leads to Jerusalem with countless others waving palm branches and cheering loudly and incessantly as in rides a man named Jesus, in what many refer to later as his triumphal entry. 

This Jesus is wildly popular and has been traveling all around the countryside, gathering supporters by talking about a kingdom and storing up treasures. He's being called the son of God, and is claiming to be the true heir of the Father.

You may not be particularly educated, but you've heard stories of Rome, stories of victorious generals and extravagant processions, stories of armies being led into the city, of the declaration of one new ruler after another. More recently, you know the story of Augustus, once called Octavius, who took control of the entire known world. In fact, your current Hebrew leader, Herod Agrippa, was raised in Rome and is named after Augustus' best friend and most accomplished general.

Standing there, waving your palm branch and shouting,

  

"Hosanna...

 (which means "save us!", a Hebrew plea for salvation brought by the Messiah*)

...to the Son of David!"

 (the ideal Jewish king)

what exactly are you expecting of this Jesus?

When we talk about Jesus' ministry, we often give a nod to the messianic expectations he had to face -- that the Israelites were expecting one kind of king, but that Jesus came to be a very different kind of king -- but that's usually the extent of it.

The problem with that kind of cursory glance, however, is that so much of Jesus' life, in the Gospel accounts, directly engages this Roman world view. 

Think, for example, of the temptations he faces in the wilderness:

And the tempter came and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread."

What had the Roman generals used to woo men into their service? Provisions -- wealth and land.

What is Jesus being tempted to create? Provisions.

Feed the people, and they will follow you. 

Then the devil took him to the holy city and set him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.'"

How had these generals become so popular amongst the people? Spectacle -- through their extravagant triumphs and other celebrations, they ensnared the imagination of the mob and won their affections.

What is Jesus being tempted to perform? Spectacle.

Amaze the people, and they will follow you.

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. And he said to him, "All these I will give to you, if you will fall down and worship me."

What was the desire of each and every one of the Roman generals who set their sights on the city of Rome? Worldly dominion -- to have control of an ever-expanding empire that already contained within its borders all of the lands of the greatest kingdoms of Western history (Egypt, Greece, Mesopotamia, etc.).

What is Jesus being tempted to seize? Worldly dominion.

Worship me, and I will give you the greatest kingdom the world has ever known.

And it's important to note that, while Jesus begins his ministry with an explicit denial of the Roman pursuit of power, he also ends his ministry before Pilate, a personal representative of that power.

In one of the more soul-troubling passages of all the Scriptures, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of the region, looking for any way to avoid the crucifixion for which the crowds are screaming, parades Jesus out in front of them and, exasperated, asks:  

Isn't this your king? Do you really want me to crucify your king?

The response from the chief priests, the supreme religious leaders of all of Judea, is appalling:

We have no king but Caesar.

We cannot miss this. We must not miss this. The premier antagonists of Jesus' Earthly ministry, the group that stood at the apex of those who opposed him, the men who led the charge in his arrest and eventual crucifixion, these men - in their final act of defiance - end their conflict with Jesus by proclaiming their allegiance not to YHWH but to Rome.

~-@-~

We cannot escape being faced with the same question that confronted every member of the crowd that day.

Do we pursue power and dominion in the same way that the Romans did? Through provision, as simple as looking out for the needs and desires of those around us, and spectacle, being likeable and entertaining, do we attempt to control our world and our surroundings?

What about our churches? Do we attempt to "win people for Jesus" by pursuing the very methods He so strenuously rejected?

Things get even more difficult when we try to figure out the modern corollary for Rome.

As Americans can we really escape the sharp focus of Scripture in this regard?

When we, as Christians, write venomous screeds against those with whom we disagree, when we go on television and shout and scream and give in to the spectacle, when we align ourselves with and seek to wield the power of the ruling class -- even toward ends we think are just and righteous...

...are we pursuing Jesus? 

Or, are we pursuing the power of Rome?

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* See, for example: Psalm 118:25-27)