Looking at Gustave Dore’s “Jesus Preaching on the Mountain” (1865), an oil painting of Jesus giving the Sermon on the Mount, and it suddenly occurs to me I know what Dore was thinking about. The image is of Jesus in front of a crowd, index finger on his right hand extended heavenward.
Take a close look at the posture of Jesus:
Now tell me if that doesn’t bear a striking resemblance to this guy:
That’s the Greek philosopher Plato as he appears in Raphael’s “School of Athens” (1511). Plato is holding a copy of his own dialogue, the Timaeus, a distinctly theological work in which Plato writes that the order and the structure of the universe are the product of a creative and intentional mind of a craftsman. It is a work that early Christians globbed onto as a philosophical precursor to revealed faith and proof that they had the answers the world needed.
Now pan back and look at the whole of the “School of Athens,” and compare the structure of the painting to that of Dore’s work.
The paintings are both horizontally bisected by the heads of the main character(s) and the crowd around them. The crowds line both sides of the central figures attentively, while others sprawl on the ground up ahead of them.
I think Dore borrowed the composition of his painting. However, it wasn’t for simple pragmatism nor merely allusion or homage. He’s telling us something philosophically.
Plato, who lived 400 years before Jesus, speculated about the nature of the universe and its Creator. He deduced that there were universal truths or principles grounded in a unifying source of the universe. Dore, a lifelong Christian who created a celebrated illustrated Bible finds the conclusion to Plato’s ponderings in the person of Jesus. Jesus speaks of a heavenly Father who was incarnate in Jesus himself, the ultimate revelation of the mysteries at which the philosophers could only wonder.
Good message for us! Should we have the sense that there is an order-making, intelligent mind that brought the beauty of the universe to be, we might consider that Jesus knew exactly who it is that we are looking for. And in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us what the world, guided by this Creator, should look like.
A man has been charged with a hate crime for destroying a Satanic statue put on display in a state Capitol. The display was erected as a provocation by the Satanic Temple of Iowa, a largely political and performative group aiming to curb religious influence in America. It was not intended as a religious display, as the group does not actually claim to worship Satan. The man who ripped it down, Michael Cassidy, had been charged with a misdemeanor, but the enhancement raises it to a felony.
As a UC-Berkeley-educated, post-Enlightenment, Constitutionally-committed, classically-Lockean, free-speech-loving Pastor, I want to briefly defend this man’s actions and argue that any American, Christian or not, should do the same thing. I would happily tear down a statue to Satan erected in my own city, although, knowing my neighbors, I would have to take a number and wait in line.
FROM THE BIBLE
The idea of desecrating idols to false gods is praised in the Scriptures more than a few times. God commands his people to rid their land of idols (Deuteronomy 12:1-3). Josiah was remembered for being a great reforming king for tearing down the idols (2 Kings 23:24), as were other leaders (Judges 6:25, 2 Kings 18:4, 2 Chronicles 15:8). The prohibitions of idols is the second of the ten commandments.
But that was in a civil theocracy, not a liberal democracy. So per the first amendment, freedom of religion and speech are protected, and by the state laws of Iowa, a religiously motivated act of this kind is a “hate crime.” So how could anyone defend Cassidy’s action? Would we want people tearing down statues of Jesus? Would we want the State of Iowa to simply ban all religious imagery, including the manger scene at Christmas?
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM
By virtue of labeling certain kinds of speech “hate speech,” we’ve already acknowledged that there are limits on freedom of expression. You can’t yell “fire!” in a crowded theater, nor walk around naked in public as a form of self-expression, nor commit defamation, slander, libel, threats, incitement, nor a host of other prohibitions. We all believe that, given common sense, there’s a line somewhere.
And believe it or not, the line has moved.
John Locke, in his Letter Concerning Toleration, argued that people should be free to choose their own religious doctrines without coercion by the State. However, he does not extend religious toleration to atheists, because they could not be trusted to hold to contractual commitments founded in theological obligations. That’s where he set the line. We’ve moved it. Statues of Satan are attempting to move it again. I’m simply trying to hold the line.
WHERE FREEDOM COMES FROM
Locke believed that we should have freedom of religion and freedom of expression because in a state of nature, humanity is free and equal, because God created us that way. His primary inspirations were the Bible, from which he quotes profusely, and Luther’s Protestant theology, which had already thrown off the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. Locke’s writings became the bedrock of American political ideology, as Jefferson follows him in declaring that there are certain rights endowed by our Creator. The ideological foundation of the freedoms enshrined in our Constitution is a God who makes people free. Without that theology, democracy is simply an option whose alternatives might be a well-run monarchy or a financially thriving tyranny. Values have to come from somewhere, and when Americans forget where we got freedom, we will lose it.
An explicit attack on theism in the name of freedom is actually a covert attack on freedom itself, and if we want to protect freedom, we have to recognize freedom-undermining wolves that climb in the pen posing as freedom-promoting sheep.
CONCLUSION
So, if you want God to bless your land, honor your God by desecrating the would-be mockery of outright idolatry, and whether or not you believe in Him, better thank him for making you free.
And if, in the end, you can criminalize someone for removing an ideologically motivated statue in the name of protecting free expression, we need to go back and arrest the government employees a couple of years ago who removed the statue of Thomas Jefferson from New York City Hall. He’s kind of the one who wrote down all those freedoms you like so much.
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Look for my upcoming book, Jesus Is Not King, for more about the relationship between Church and State and its limits.
I remember teaching my daughter how to ride a bike. She wobbled up and down the cul-de-sac as I ran close behind, holding onto the back of the seat. When she was ready, I let go. The first time we did it, the ride ended in a crash and tears. But she got back up and tried again.
I ran beside her calling, “We can do it this time!”
As I prepare my little church for 2024, an election year, a year fraught with the potential for conflict, I find myself running alongside the church calling, “We can do it this time!”
We didn’t do great in 2020, when most everyone caved in to anger and anxiety, conspiracy and mutiny. Some people responded with grace and charity, but not most of us. The church honestly has not done great for several decades, in which people who call themselves followers of Jesus have joined in secular mud-slinging and turning a blind eye to the sins of their own parties and candidates.
But I think we can do it this time!
I’m spending time reading the words of Jesus captured in Matthew 5-7, the Sermon on the Mount. His teachings are powerfully counter-intuitive and counter-cultural. I am envisioning a people who are “Sermon on the Mount Christians,” Christians who behave as though these teachings were the only thing they ever heard Jesus say. Can you imagine a Church in which people refuse to call other people fools, refuse to cheat on their spouses, refuse to break promises, and refuse to get revenge? I can imagine it, but I realize there is a group of people out there who can’t – the secular public who has watched the Church fail at these things through all of recent memory.
What if, this year, we pledge to be a people of grace in seasons where win-lose decisions threaten to divide our country and our culture? What if, in 2024, we tried to be Sermon on the Mount Christians?
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Stay tuned for my new book, “Jesus Is Not King,” a Christian look at political engagement.
Not too many years ago, one of the primary condenders for the presidential election was a Mormon, today one is a Hindu, and there are elected officials who, presumably, could run for highest office and who are Muslims. The Hindu candidate has said repeatedly that it matters that there is a God, and he recently tweeted, “We share a common creed.” The problem I have with the ecclesiastical melting pot is that whether you look at this in terms of philosophy of religion, history, ethics, or sociology, we’re not talking about the same God, and that really matters.
This comes as a counter-intuitive shock to the average Joe who assumes all religions go roughly in the same category, the way apples, bananas, and apricots are all in the same row of the grocery store. Pick your favorite flavor; they all serve a related nutritional purpose. But no one who actively practices a faith and knows a good deal about alternate faiths thinks this way. Similar does not mean the same.
It’s like this. Two people might compare notes about their childhood experiences. One says, “When I was a kid, there was this guy in the house who was always there, and we called him ‘Dad.'”
“My house too!” her friend responds. “We had a guy like that and we called him ‘Dad.’ Maybe it was the same guy?”
“Well,” says the first, “my dad provided for me and wore out-of-date clothing and thought his jokes were all funny.”
“Mine too! We must be talking about the same guy! Isn’t that amazing? We have the same dad!”
“Well,” the first one continues, “my dad taught me that when someone does something wrong to you, you should love them anyway.”
“Oh,” says the second, a little bit mystified. “My dad told me that when someone does something wrong to you, you should punch them in the nose.”
Similar doesn’t mean the same. This also applies in matters of faith. Multiple faiths may talk about a God who created the world, who dictates principles for living, and who will be our judge in the end. But that doesn’t mean a shared identity; that only proves similarity. If one God tells you to love your enemies and another one tells you to get revenge, you are talking about different personalities, different “parents,” different gods.
Average Joe in the produce aisle may still not care about this. He’s going to pick his favorite fruit and leave you alone when you pick yours. Likewise, he’s going to care very little about the fruit preference of the person we elect president of the United States. The rub here is that gods dictate ethical norms the way parents set rules in the home. Not all gods have the same personality, and consequently, they do not share the same set of ethical principles.
Christianity is a faith that teaches the ultimate dignity and worth of every individual, regardless of their level of accomplishment, their intelligence, their moral uprightness, their able-bodiedness, and any other category into which we want to parse them. Jesus loves us all. America still enjoys the residue of a culture largely influenced by the teachings of Jesus. If you have a heart-to-heart conversation with someone who has been simmering in Confucian ideology, you find that there are sticking points at which you simply don’t share a common worldview, particularly as it concerns ethics. I invited a friend who was new to America to serve at a homeless ministry some years ago. They had never seen one before. They asked with incredulity, “You give all these groceries away for free?” They had been taught that if you gave your things away, there might come a time where you would not have enough for yourself, and you would starve. Those who have truly imbibed the values of Jesus believe that we should give to all who ask, that God can rain bread down from the sky, that we who sacrifice will receive much more in this life, and in the life to come, eternity.
In fact, it was on the basis of theology that the founders in America crafted some of the ethical mores which they prescribed. When Thomas Jefferson argued that there were unalienable rights bestowed by a Creator, he was borrowing from the British philosopher John Locke. Locke had argued with extensive citation from the Bible for the freedom of religious practice and liberty for the people. There is a direct line from the teachings of Jesus to Locke to Jefferson, and thus to the governing principles of America. In fact, one of the harshest critics of American independence from the monarchy was another British philosopher named Jeremy Bentham. Bentham was an atheist. He refered to the rights of dignity and freedom of each individual as “nonsense on stilts.” The nonsense was the idea that indivuals deserved freedom, and the stilts was the theology upon which such values were based. As an atheist, he believed only in doing what is best for the greatest number of people; sometimes the minority had to be overruled or ignored.
So put in place a leader who believes in a territorial god who advocates violent self-defense and ultimate conquest and you have the makings of a dictatorship. Put in place a leader who believes that the ultimate goal of humanity is to lose one’s identity to be subsumed into something universal, and you have the makings of something more negligent. Put in place a leader who really believes in Jesus, and you should have the makings of a nation which upholds the belief that every human being is of ultimate worth, that our country should do what’s best for everyone in the world so much as is possible. Gods create ethical systems. The objects of worship our elected leaders revere are not inconsequential.
Of course, if history is any indicator, we can rest assured that a generally blasé approach to faith and a hypocritical approach to ethics is all we will ever get from our politicians, so we needn’t worry too much nor get our hopes up. God is going to be a distant Creator who bestows only loosely prescribed unalienable rights, and nothing more. When it comes to the religious beliefs of our leaders, you say tomato, I say tomato.
There are three hypodermic shifts that are going on in the American circulatory system as we enter this next election season. On the surface, it’s the same story as always. We do this every four years. There are primarily two parties every time. The issues they are debating are unlikely to be any different than four years ago, and only moderately different than forty years ago. The rhetoric hasn’t changed much.
But under the skin, there are three philosophical shifts that have gone on in the ethical decision making of Christian voters, a bloc that became noteworthy in the late 70s, grew in influence until the first decade of the 20th century, and seem to be on the wane since. My sense is most Christians haven’t noticed, though the shifts are of tectonic importance.
A shift from character to consequences. If you watch the debate between Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan in 1980, you watch two civil, gracious candidates disagree over the substance of issues facing voters. They were both, I think I can assert, Christian men, though neither faultless. Carter was a devout Baptist who wore his faith on his sleeve. Reagan had led a prayer at the end of his acceptance speech at the RNC. Both had been Sunday school teachers. Their faith claims appealed to Christian voters. Today, however, the devout Christian marks the ballot with one hand and pinches her nose with the other. There is a recognized undercurrent among religious voters that you have to put up with whomever your party puts forward, because while they not be a person of character, at least they will deliver the final outcome on whatever social issues are most important to the voter. We’ve moved from a “character counts” voter to an “end justifies the means” voter. We’ve switched from virtue ethics to consequentialism. Carter was elected as a moral correction to the Watergate mess. Reagan spoke openly about ending racism, fighting Roe v. Wade, and even of “maintaining one’s virtue.” I don’t hear voters looking for character this cycle, and when one candidate happens to try to make such an appeal, we rarely believe them anymore. My problem with this is that it is not characteristic of the ethics of Jesus. Jesus would never say that the end justifies the means.
A shift from favoring one to disfavoring the other. This may not entirely be a shift, so much as a recurrent pattern in national sentiments, but we’re definitely at the bottom of this cycle. There is very little general enthusiasm among devout Christians for any potential candidates this year, as there was mixed to little enthusiasm four years ago and eight years ago. We’ve become far to comfortable with the “lesser of two evils” being the only option. This is one area in which we are truly bipartisan – I don’t hear a lot of eagerness for one’s own party from the Christian who votes on either side. And after a third election like this, it increasingly feels like a trend and a norm rather than an off year. Again, what bothers me is that you will not find Jesus ever commending the lesser of two evils, and I’m not sure we’ve noticed that we’ve slipped away from the ethics of Jesus in our political thinking.
A shift from public civility to public shame. Again, the Reagan/Carter debate is such a contrast to the mud-slinging, name-calling, slandering oration that has become not only acceptable but desired by an American audience. Jerry Springer aired from 1991-2018, and there may be more causation than correlation between what he made acceptable and what we now accept. Facebook launched in 2004, Twitter in 2006. Our ability to have immediate, uninhibited access to an often anonymous field of public debate (or just outright slugfest) is probably also a catalyst. But wherever it comes from, the fact that an audience of Christian voters not only witnesses this incivility but is now being shaped by it and willingly participates in it is a horrendous judgment on the moral fiber of American Christians. I just don’t hear a lot of Christ coming out of a lot of Christians, at least the loudest ones.
I’m cognizant of all of this as we face a second round of debates among the Republican candidates this week. I’ll be looking for how much or little attention the candidates give to matters of faith as an indication of how much they think it means to the voting public. I’m watching the ethical demeanor of the debate and to what degree candidates will openly contradict their own previous statements and hurl nasty insults at their rivals. Mostly, I’ll be looking for character. Whether we ask the President to be one or not, they serve as a moral exemplar for our children, and we are tacitly informing our children how important morals are every time we elect one.
Psychologist Jonathan Haidt likes to play a trick on crowds. He’ll ask an audience, “What does it feel like to be wrong?”
“Embarrassing,” someone will answer.
“Frustrating!”
“Confusing!”
“No,” Haidt will correct them. “You’re describing what it feels like to find out that you’re wrong. What I asked was ‘What does it feel like to be wrong?'” And the correct answer is – it feels exactly like being right.
When we are wrong, before we are aware that we are wrong, we assume we have things figured out, that we see reality for what it is, that our minds are clear and our heads are screwed on straight. The only way to discover that we have gotten off course is through dialogue and interaction with people who see the world differently than we do, with the humility to admit that we still have things to learn.
When we surround ourselves with people who only see the world in the same way that we do, we insulate our wrongness. We are surrounding ourselves with people who are wrong in the same way that we are, which puts us further from the opportunity to discover the truth. There is now a wall of wrong supporters standing between us and veracity.
A refrain that is being chanted by conservative Christians in America today is that truth is under attack from deceivers who will profit from the mass distribution of lies. After all, there is a war on Christmas, a propaganda machine being run by medical elites, and a secret cabal of blood-drinking pedophiles in the highest levels of government. One news network has even had to pay three quarters of a billion dollars for knowingly propagating false information. To this worldview, truth is like a delicate flower at risk of a malicious cultural lawnmower.
But is that true of truth?
In my experience, truth is less like a flower than a weed. It’s persistent, it crops up after you think you’ve removed it, it not only upturns dirt, but it can crack concrete, and there’s always another generation of it waiting to replace the last. Perhaps truth is more infectious than its would-be defenders suppose.
At one point, humanity tried to crucify embodied truth, and that only lasted for three days.
Philosopher John Locke in his 1689 Letter Concerning Toleration wrote, “The toleration of those that differ from others in matters of religion is so agreeable to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and to the genuine reason of mankind, that it seems monstrous for men to be so blind as not to perceive the necessity and advantage of it in so clear a light.” Locke’s work became foundational to modern democracy, especially American democracy, and particularly his biblically defended case for religious toleration and free speech. If the First Amendment had footnotes, they would all reference Locke’s writings. I would argue that as we campaign to cancel our competitors, we are taking the Constitution out of the hands of those who inspired and wrote it.
So rather than the winner-take-all polarization towards which contemporary American political culture (and consequently religious culture) is barrelling, we might want to pause to consider that we may need a diversity of opinions to keep us learning, that civil society may require humility more than conquest, and that, in the end, it may turn out that our enemies were partly right.
An old object lesson that floats around ministry circles observes that when you squeeze an orange, orange juice comes out, and when you squeeze an apple, apple juice comes out, but what comes out when you squeeze a Christian? When the pressures and stresses of the world, pandemics and political crises, put pressures on followers of Jesus, what do they produce? If the analogy holds, something of Christ should come out. Jesus’ love should come out of a squeezed disciple of Jesus. The fruit of the Spirit – love, joy, peace – should ooze from the one who is Spirit-filled.
Surely, we’ve had three and a half years of evidence that this largely is not what happens to followers of Jesus in America. We every bit as much as our secular neighbors produced anger, anxiety, and fear. The consequent and ongoing shrinking of the Church only makes sense. When, in the midst of crisis, Christians flock to conspiracy theories and obvious lies and demonstrate no particular confidence in the power of divine providence, why would anyone believe us when we say that two thousand years ago a man walked on water? But in the coming season, the Church will again be asked the question, “What’s inside of you?” Maybe we can produce a different answer.
Perhaps, as 2024 looms, we ought to think about the likely cultural climate with our intended ends in mind. It will be another year of political turmoil and conflict being produced by world leaders who ought to act like models of civility but who instead act like spoiled children. That is of little concern. What matters is how Christians respond. A card player is not good because the deal is good; a card player is good because of what she does with the hand. We have some probable sense of what the next season will deal us, so the question then becomes, how shall we play it?
I’ve begun to pray that as the polarizing conflicts of American society begin to again force people to take sides, the Church will sound like the voice of Jesus. Imagine a Church where we care so much about profound ethical issues that we insist that they must be discussed, and yet, where we are so committed to the absolute dignity of the individual and the love that God bestows on every one, that we insist that our conversations leave people feeling cherished, regardless of political affiliation, religious doctrine, or agreement. Imagine an institution famed for Inquisitions, witch trials, and heretic executions reaching a midlife conversion itself, so that for the rest of its history, it is known for being the circle of grace that its founder originally meant for it to be.
The movie “The Sound of Freedom” is an action thriller, borderline horror, film that depicts the nature of child sex trafficking based on the story of real life hero, Special Agent Tim Ballard of Homeland Security. Ballard was responsible for freeing over 100 children who had been trafficked and bringing dozens of traffickers to justice. The movie released on July 4, 2023, and it immediately prompted controversy while garnering high reviews (currently on Rotten Tomatoes, 75% from 24 critics and 100% from over 5,000 movie goers), and a hefty profit (up to $40 million currently after a $15 million budget). Here’s my take on the movie and the swirl of controversy around it.
The movie review
It’s a powerful, disturbing film. It’s not for families to watch, and honestly, it will be difficult for adults who have experienced trauma. For those who do go, it presents a gripping, suspenseful, meaningful story of hope and justice. Jim Caviezel, who plays the lead, does a decent job, more animated than his portrayal of Jesus in “The Passion,” but not by much. The script does run slow and predictable at points, but as a film, it delivers exactly what it promises. It is not a preachy film, and the religiosity is subtle and understated. Ballard is a Christian, but we don’t get much more than a single quote from the Bible, and another character who compellingly tells his story of a mystical conversion. It’s not your run-of-the-mill Kirk Cameron and Kevin Sorbo team up against the liberals who have brought on the apocalypse kind of Christian film. I recommend seeing it, with the aforementioned caveat.
The controversy
Now the conspiracies here are several layers thick.
Jim Caviezel is a QAnon conspiracist. This is simply true. I’ve heard him in interviews retell the adrenochrome conspiracy, which is absolutely pseudo-scientific nonsense. It’s the worst kind of science fiction, the QAnon crowd has definitely bought in, and you are gullible if you do too. This isn’t to say that Caviezel isn’t a good actor, or that he doesn’t star in good movies, or that this isn’t a good movie. It isn’t to say that this movie forwards the adrenochrome conspiracy – it doesn’t even allude to it. This is simply to say exactly what I am saying – Jim Caviezel believes in nonsense.
Immediately, a couple of outlets, the Guardian and Rolling Stone among them, pounced on Caviezel’s offstage commentary and accused the film of forwarding these conspiracies. To be specific, they act as though the movie is the Trojan horse for transporting QAnon conspiracies, despite the fact that the movie includes none of it. The little Trojan warriors are all inside Jim Caviezel’s head. The Guardian’s author is anonymous (let’s call her GAnon). She’s obviously given to a few crazed conspiracy theories of her own, and desperately wants to find one here, as though the QAnon people got together and wrote a movie script as sort of a gateway into their world. Because there is not actually any conspiracy theory in the film, she seems committed to the idea that where there is no smoke, there must be a very well-hidden fire. Those versed in modern media will simply see these two publications for the ideological rags that they are and move on.
Now here’s where the social media frenzy begins. Conservative outlets, including those trying to promote the film, and of course Fox News, and about a million people on Twitter, pounced on the negative reviews and announced that Hollywood was trying to stop the film from being seen! Maybe there really is a trafficking ring made up of liberal Hollywood elites who don’t want the truth to get out! I don’t in any way think most of these outlets really believe this (except Mel Gibson – he really believes it); rather, I think the fastest way to promote your movie (or book) is to announce that some ideological group is trying to suppress (or burn) it. Jim Caviezel (who, I want to be very clear, believes in nonsense) has said that major distributors passed on the films. There are rumors that Netflix, Disney, and Amazon all rejected it, but none of that has been confirmed by Netflix, Disney, or Amazon yet. Nonetheless, pay attention – the conservative outlets are counting on public outrage to boost ticket sales and film viewership. They do this because they are aware of the swirl of QAnon theories about liberal elites, child trafficking, and adrenochrome, and even if they know those theories are far-flung, they also know there is a grassroots gathering of conservatives who have rallied around them. And there’s an election next year.
That works. People really will go and see it because of all the media outrage. And then they’re going to find out that it’s actually a pretty good movie, which accounts for the perhaps slightly over-inflated 100% in viewer reviews. Some mainstream and not at all Christian outlets like Variety have also given it good reviews, because, in fact, it’s not a bad movie. Five stars.
In the end, I hope the movie does raise awareness of and opposition to the trafficking industry, I hope audiences are inspired by the conspiracy-free film, and I hope that maybe in the future Jim Caviezel stays in his lane.
“9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 And when he came up out of the water, immediately he saw the heavens being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” Mark 1:9-11
I talked to a Christian guy recently who was nervous that God might be mad at him. It’s an understandable enough sentiment, but from a rational perspective, it’s odd. It’s like fearing you might fail a math test after you’ve already received your diploma, or fearing you might be burned by a fire that has already been extinguished. Christians have little reason to fear the thing from which they’ve already been saved. It reminded me of something that happens at Jesus’ baptism.
At the baptism of Jesus, a dove descends and lands on Jesus as he arises out of the waters. I’m wondering if we’re talking about something that was visually bird-like or if it was like a dove in its peaceful nature? Regardless, Matthew and Mark say that Jesus saw something like a dove. Luke states, from a narrator’s third-person perspective, that it was a dove in bodily form. John records it from the mouth of John the Baptist, who says he saw something like a dove.
The first place a dove appears in the Bible is in the story of Noah. God sends floodwaters to eradicate a corrupt and violent human species, saving only Noah, his family, and a boat-load of animals. After 40 days of floating, Noah sends out a dove. Eventually, it returns with an olive branch, signifying that it had found solid ground.
I don’t think it’s coincidence that in both stories a dove goes out and finds solid ground amidst waters sent to wash away sinfulness.
The baptismal waters of the River Jordan, like the floodwaters of the ancient flood epic, were there to wash away sins. The floodwaters were sent to destroy the evil of humankind. The baptismal waters captured symbolically the washing away of sin.
We, as a species and as individuals, deserve the punishment of the flood. We have lived corrupt lives, or conspired to do so, and we cannot by our own merit survive. Only when God provided solid ground could Noah endure the flood. At the baptism of Jesus, the dove again settles on the solid ground, which is Jesus Christ. He is the only thing on which we can stand in the midst of the waters that have been sent for the sinful. If we try to stand on our own goodness, we are standing on sinking sand.
When the dove, the Holy Spirit, comes to us today, it is to call us to return to the only solid ground on which we can stand – to Jesus. When we believe he died for us, we are spared the punishment of the flood. There is no longer anything for which we can be held accountable, because his death consumed our sin. We ourselves arise out of baptismal waters to stand on him.
Without solid ground, we have every reason to fear we will be rowing forever. But once you believe in him, there’s nothing left of which to be afraid.
Hardwired 