Christianity and Triumph in the Public Square
How Christians view the public spaces in our lives is a hotly discussed topic within the church in America right now. Articles have been written in the past couple of months regarding the way in which we engage with the world. How do we communicate with conviction? Does winsome persuasion even work any longer? And how do we respond when we don’t get the reaction we had hoped?
The debate centers not only on what is said but how we speak and why. And needfully so. Christians should care deeply about what we say and how we speak about what we believe to be most valuable subject in the world. It is worth our time and bandwidth to discuss the ways in which we engage the world.
It is easy to respond to our disagreements with combative, punchy, tones. To use “best case scenario” rhetoric and “thought terminating cliches” in order to “win” arguments seem to be the strategy de jour in dialogue that is supposed to be salt and light. We are utilizing tools from the wrong kingdom but are still hoping for virtuous results. If we use anger in conversation, we can’t be shocked if we receive anger back.
Borrowing from Augustine, we live in an earthly kingdom but belong to a heavenly kingdom. They exist, overlapping each other, embodying the same space, but living for different ends.
It has become easy in the church to use the strategies and definitions of the earthly kingdom to win arguments that only have bearing in an earthly kingdom. We miss the eternal beatific beauty of the kingdom of Heaven when we don’t get our definitions right.
So, in our engagement with the world, or the earthly city, we want to make sure that we are focusing on the right outcomes. We aren’t trying to win arguments; we are trying to show the world the beauty of Jesus. And we do that by living virtuously in community, for speaking up for the marginalized, and worshiping with our lives.
But our strategy is not to win. It is wholly other.
Jesus shows us a different way in the triumphal entry in Matthew 21. Jesus enters Jerusalem on His way toward His final week on earth. Jesus tells us a lot about what is considered true triumph in His reenactment of a Roman celebration.
While the triumphal entry is not a uniquely biblical idea, it is uniquely Roman. Jesus entered into our world at the infancy of the Roman Empire. Rome was expanding and conquering territory. As this unstoppable army would march across geopolitical boundaries, they would conquer cities in the name of Caesar, they would take people captive and loot from treasuries wherever they went.
All of this, in every expansion, would be celebrated in the triumphal entry.
And it makes sense. Triumph is something we all pursue. It is something we all want, individually and corporately. The idea of triumph scratches at one of the soul’s greatest questions: does my life have any value? And that question is lived out in every human soul, applied in every action. The collection of that desire in our institutions motivates corporate and civic goals.
We want triumph because it answers the question of value. But the problem is we have trusted Caesar’s definition of triumph. We need to learn Christ’s. We have believed that triumph is found in the number of items taken. The more we collect, the more we take, the more triumph.
Triumph in Caesar’s mind, the earthly city, is built around everything you can collect from anyone else. The Roman triumphal procession was intended to be as big as it possibly can get. To show as many people as possible just how much the Roman empire has gotten. Because triumphal procession is about every part of the land, captives, and treasures taken during war, the end focus is on the collection itself.
The collection is triumph. And because possession is followed by needing to care for those items, we go to any end to protect our collection. Our lives are filled with collections of triumph and then energy is expended to protect those items at any cost.
Triumph is found in what Caesar has taken. What has been captured in his name through the authority of His power. This is the pattern of Caesar. The earthly city always looks to what it takes. But Christ always looks to what He gives. Jesus shows us that triumph in the world doesn’t always have the same goals as triumph in God’s kingdom.
The goal of Jesus triumphal procession is to show how far a King will go to rescue His people with none of the tools of power. Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey. Not a triumphant warhorse, not a chariot like the Caesar. But a donkey.
Donkeys have no inherent pride; they are the image of humility. The picture of Jesus on a donkey removes any use of power. It is an incredible image of giving and offering, not taking. It is not power that gets us to triumph. Jesus is accomplishing better ends for triumph with lesser means, showing us that victory is not found in unbridled strength.
As Christians in the public square, we have to learn that we cannot borrow definitions from Caesar. Jesus uses the event of the triumphal procession to mark His Kingship. He upends the definition of triumph. Because up until that moment in Matthew 21, triumph has been a collection of materials that can prove that you have more than the neighbor from whom you took them.
But Jesus shows us that triumph is really found in the humble king who gave His life for us.
Caesar will always move toward procurement as triumph. But when procurement is your goal, you can only ever depend on what you’ve done and what you’ve taken. And you will spend the rest of your life protecting everything you’ve collected. And protecting what you have collected is exhausting. We only have so much to give to our collections.
We need a better triumph.
We are shown in Christ the humble king takes the same path as victorious Caesar, but he redefines triumph to show that it is not in what we take but is what is offered.
We have believed the tales of Caesar: if we just get enough, then we will be triumphant. Jesus, walking Caesar’s path, shows us that is not true. Eventually the paths will diverge. Eventually what Caesar takes and what Jesus gives will not be the same thing.
Both triumphs demand costs. The triumphalism of Caesar demands high costs, and costs are paid through the brokenness of people and worldly systems. Either in sexual exploitation, or abuse, in racism, in exploitation, in marginalizing people, or other ways of taking from others for triumphal collections.
The triumph of Christ knows a high cost has been demanded. And the cost has been paid for our brokenness, our need for love, our need for forgiveness, our loneliness through the sacrifice of Christ.
There is always a cost demanded from somewhere. The world will demand someone else pay it. The church knows Christ has already covered it. So, we don’t have to collect or protect our parades of triumph. It’s already in Christ. Our role is to collect and protect for others what Caesar is demanding.
We have to choose a triumph. Whose will we follow? The horse and chariot who has taken from others to make their triumph significant? Or the man on the stupid animal who gave everything in order to make us something? We would be wise to follow Jesus on His donkey to wherever He leads — and not the horse and chariot.
Triumph will come and go in the world. Rome is a long-lasting empire but only reigned for 1000 years. But real triumph is a permanent position in Christ.
