Newborn Beginning . . . after Caesar

An Advent prayer by Walter Brueggemann

The Christ Child is about to be born,

            the one promised by the angel. 

     Mary’s “fullness of time” has arrived. 

Except that the birth is scheduled

            according to the emperor:

     A decree went out that all should be numbered. 


Caesar decreed a census, everyone counted;

Caesar intended to have up-to-date data for the tax rolls;

Caesar intended to have current lists of draft eligibility;

Caesar intended taxes to support armies,

     because the emperor, in whatever era,

            is always about money and power, 

                 about power and force,      

                 about force and control, 

                        and eventually violence. 


And while we wait for the Christ Child,

     we are enthralled by the things of Caesar– 

            money . . . power . . . control,

                 and all the well-being that comes from 

                 such control, even if it requires a little violence. 


But in the midst of the decree

     will come this long-expected Jesus, 

            innocent, vulnerable,

            full of grace and truth,

            grace and not power, 

            truth and not money, 

            mercy and not control. 


We also dwell in the land of Caesar;

     we pray for the gift of your spirit, 

     that we may loosen our grip on the things of Caesar,

     that we may turn out eyes toward the baby, 

            our ears toward the newness,

            our hearts towards the gentleness,

            our power and money and control

                 toward your new governance. 


We crave the newness. 

     And while the decree of the emperor

            rings in our ears with such authority, 

     give us newness that we may start again

                 at the beginning,

     that the innocence of the baby may

                 intrude upon our ambiguity, 

     that the vulnerability of the child may

                 veto our lust for control, 

     that we may be filled with wonder 

                 and so less of anxiety,

            in the blessed name of the baby we pray. 

Walter Brueggemann. Prayers for a Privileged People. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2008. 

One for All

But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.” – John 11:49-50

There in the meeting of the council a pertinent answer is found to the question, “What are we to do?” Caiaphas, the High Priest, listened for a long time to the excited speeches. Now he rose and said, “You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.” Some of the council might have secretly had the same thought but not dared to express it openly. Caiaphas, however, shies away from nothing. It is all one to him whether they do right or wrong, whether they fulfill the law or bring bloodguilt upon themselves. His decision is certain. Earthly power must be secured even if heaven is lost in the process. If the agitated populace is to be restored to order and the authority of those in power maintained, then Christ has to die. That is the radical expedient. As always in such meetings, strength prevails. Caiaphas’s suggestion forces its way through, and the most terrible crime of the human race, the murder of the Messiah, is decided. 

The whole meaning and purpose of this murderous decision can be summed up in Caiaphas’s remark: one for all. Yet “one for all” rang also in the shining depth of the heart of God. Caiaphas had to prophesy because he was the high priest. Without knowing it or wanting it, he had to disclose God’s eternal counsel of grace. All people have sinned and deserve death, but God will not let himself be robbed of his most beloved creation by Satan’s power and cunning. His heart is filled with pity for the whole race of his lost children. For this reason he prepared the one who is the head of all. He alone is pure and has done nothing to deserve death. Nevertheless he wants to die for all, for he is love. He is able to die without perishing, because he is life. His death is valid for all in the sight of eternal justice, because he is more than all, and because all are one in him. If he dies, all have died in his death; if he lives, all live with him. This is Jesus of Nazareth, God’s Son and the Son of Man. 

One for all – that is now the comfort of all who have faith. What a dark mystery life and death would be without this word! But if the inscription “one for all” is placed over the manger and the cross, how clear everything becomes. 

How could we dare to call ourselves God’s children if Christ were not born for us? How could we believe in the forgiveness of our sins if he had not atoned for us? How could we approach death with tranquil hearts if he had not died for us? Yes, “Christ for us” – “One for all”. That is the great fact of salvation through which the world is saved, our human race is newborn, our life is blessed, and death is overcome. Whoever grasps this One in faith has everything that he needs both here and in eternity, peace on earth and blessedness in heaven. 

– Johann Ernst von Holst

The Crucified is My Love: Morning and Evening Devotions for the Holy Season of Lent