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By Franklin Mukakanga
The following, though not specifically written for those who ask me,
summarizes my understanding of the Christ’s person, purpose and
mission.
……
For me, the nature and mission of Jesus Christ go beyond the
establishment of a dominant world religion based on the worship of
the Christ. I refuse to be drawn into debates about the Christ’s
divinity or humanity. I refuse to engage in talk that divides between
people whose time would be better spent celebrating their shared
humanity and loving and giving and growing. What the Christ was
becomes immaterial if it fails of fulfilling its intent. “ That they might
be one”. “ That they might live life more abundantly”, the making of
one—at-one-ment. Various phrases encapsulate the mission of Jesus
Christ. One thing remains true: The mission of the Christ was to
bring about reconciliation in the estranged mind of humanity
between mankind and God, who had never left or forsaken
humanity, but was thought of as cold, distant and vindictive.
That some called Him Lord, or that there are allusions to actual
worship of the Christ, or even that a worldwide movement derives
its name from His title, does not or should not detract from the fact
that his mission was clear: to eliminate the illusion of separation
from God and man’s attendant dis-ease with, and constant attempts
to appease, the Divine. The former by a barrier of not-good-
enoughness, watered, nurtured and matured into a crippling,
debilitating concept called sin, and the latter by ritualistic acts of
servile homage, which served to start the perpetual cycle all over
again.
The Christ manifested to bring an end to the misery that was man’s
lot because of the superstitions, beliefs and practices that had
eroded his self-confidence to the point of enslavement to base
passions and demons of various shapes, numbers and sizes. Man
was a prisoner of his own mind. Caged by fear. Unable to
appreciate, let alone perceive the love of God, man needed a Peace
maker.
The story was well known. For as long as they could remember,
there had always been a ‘once upon a time’. Tales of a time when
everything was ‘perfect’. It was hard to accept that this ‘hard life’
they were living was what they were meant to be living. Man’s lot
was somebody else’s fault. It had to be. Someone other than man
himself was responsible for the mess he suddenly realized he was
in.
As the story went, man hadn’t always been a dichotomy. Man was
created with a nature that defied the nature of everything else in
the universe. Man, when created, enjoyed only good, positive
emotions, and could not get angry or sad. He had sweat glands and
arms and opposable thumbs, yet was not required to work, toil or
sweat—God forbid! Man was always right and never erred in
judgment. Nor did he ever reap the consequences of violating the
laws of nature. If he climbed up a tree and fell down to the ground,
he could not feel pain and cry. Could he even fall?!
Because man’s desire to know what was kept from him had caused
such a terrible rift between mankind—now living in dejection and
dichotomy—and the Divine, appeasement of the enraged Deity was
necessary, by way of sacrifices; and securing of Divine favor by
more sacrifices and worship became a top priority. Blood was spilled
periodically, both animal and human, as the life of the sacrificed
took the place of the life of the penitent.
One day, one big sacrifice would be made, the value of which would
outweigh that of ‘all the blood of bulls and goats’, and that would
reverse both the separation from the Divine and its effects on the
nature of man, eliminating the bad, and restoring the good to
pristine, universe-defiant glory.
The story was told for so long, it became a part of the fabric of
humanity’s collective psyche. In various cultures around the world,
the story was told and retold, and naturally, took on a local tinge
and flavor, using various names, specific details and idiosyncratic
embodiments or incarnations. It was a great story. It explained
everything.
It was a metaphor for the quest for reunification with our Source, a
virtual solution for a virtual problem. In seeking to understand the
duality and meaning of life, we had imagined ourselves into
separation from God. And we now imagined ourselves a solution to
what would have been an endless cycle of misery and futility,
brought into being by our own imaginings.
Hence, “in the fullness of time” the manifestation of our desire: the
Christ appears. A god-man, born to be the doorway back into right-
ness or righteousness with God. The one to die so we won’t have to.
The one to carry our responsibility, so we don’t have to. A living—
and dying—metaphor to reconnect us with the Source.
In Palestine, Jesus of Nazareth is born, and lives out the metaphor.
He enters into our belief system. Fulfills our expectations of a Savior.
Lives the virtuous life. Becomes the reconciliatory blood sacrifice,
since we believe that we are so bad that someone has to die in
order for us to get back in good books with God. Jesus dies for our
sins, those mental abstractions that demonize and represent our
least desirable elements. Jesus dies for the things we collectively
and singularly detest about ourselves, or the things that we or
others say we shouldn’t do or be. (When you think that design
engineering and sometimes simple willpower can allow us to remake
ourselves without Divine intervention, it kind of makes you wonder
whether we’ve been much ado about nothing, doesn’t it?) But,
because he is special, he’s resurrected, leaves the earth, sends His
Spirit, after commissioning a handful of disciples to tell the world
what they have seen and experienced—to teach the world His
message and way.”Freely you have received. Freely give”
But guess what? A few short years later, true to form, succeeding
generations of teachers begin to hoard the teachings of the Christ
and institutionalize them, making them the preserve only of the
initiated, and we’re back to square one. In order to be right with
God, you now need to be initiated into fellowship with the Christ,
conferred by a special ritual, in turn administered by an institution
that the ritual gives you membership into. After this you have
access to God’s blessings. Without joining the institution, you
cannot have access to God, His blessings, or the relationship you
crave. One form of control, substituted for another, in effect
recreating what the Christ came to destroy: a barrier to the Divine.
“He is our peace, who has broken down every wall”.
Our metaphor led us to its logical end: We are reconciled with God.
We need no man to intercede with the Divine, to present our
petitions or appease its wrath. We have free, unrestricted access to
all wisdom, knowledge, understanding, love, joy, peace and light.
We are free! Yet we can’t seem to handle the implications: We owe
no one any explanations. We are totally responsible for ourselves
from here on out. God is within us. We grok God. Our metaphor has
done what we had failed to do for ourselves. It has rid us of the
illusion of separation and reconciled us with our maker. But, not
knowing what to do with our new found freedom, we substitute our
old masters for new ones. This time, willingly placing ourselves
under them, and expecting them, again, to lead us to God—who, by
the way is within, wondering why we are looking without all over
again—and expecting these teachers/gurus/masters to break down
the newly reconstructed, non-existent, barrier by intercession or
instruction meant to lead us to enlightenment.
When we needed help, our maker indulged our capriciousness and
joined us in our reality in order to free us from a slavery of our own
making. We were here. It was confusing. We needed answers. We
created a problem whose solution would allow us to accept that
there had been no problem to start with. Just a state of being that
we had had a tough time accepting. This state of being—living and
dying, thriving and suffering, fair weather and natural ‘disasters’—
could only be explained by a separation of the good from the bad, of
God from ourselves. We needed a divider. We needed sin, and so we
created it. We needed salvation from the sin we created. A Savior
came.
God joined us in our delusion. The universe played ball with its
belligerent children. Not because we would have been unacceptable
to God without the awful things that subsequently befell the Christ,
but because we would never have believed that God was not mad
with us any other way. Not with our polarization of our consensual
reality. To our minds, we had broken Divine law, and justice had to
be served. The Christ was manifested in order to serve that justice.
There was something wrong with us. We deserved to be punished.
We did not deserve to live. We should be blotted out of existence.
Wait! We can’t be. Let someone else take responsibility. Let
someone else bear it. Our metaphor. Our Messiah. Only when our
affront to Divine law was punished and Divine justice satisfied could
we feel worthy of God’s attention. Only when we absorbed the wrath
of God against our errant ways could we feel we had done
something to earn the trust and love of God anew. Even if
vicariously. Only then could our God and our selves get on with
living.
This is why the death of the Christ in Jesus of Nazareth shifted the
thinking, feeling and being of the whole human family. It was the
culmination of our universal collective metaphor for our then
present state, and what would become the doorway to our destiny.
It set us free from the impediment to our fellowship with our maker,
and, whether its individuals were consciously aware of the
occurrence of the event or not, allowed the whole world to walk out
of a prison of superstition and fear. Free from the collective guilt that
had held us back from realizing our full potential, mankind could
begin to aspire to be more, do more and experience living on a
whole new level. The illusion of separation gone, man could
‘approach God’ and even enter into relationship with God. While
people may dispute the authority or even the facts of the story of
Jesus, and even though debates will rage forever about the nature
and person of the being we call the Christ, no one can dispute the
fact that this one man has had a greater impact on history (and
mankind’s subsequent evolution) than any other.
Peace between Man and God was made ‘once for all’. And humanity
just needed to pay attention in order to be able to see God, right
where He’d always been.
Thus, wherever a man ceases to struggle with the Divine and finds
unconditional love and acceptance, wherever love and joy and
peace abound in the heart, there the Spirit of the Christ is finding
expression, and there is it made manifest. Dogma or no dogma,
offerings or no offerings, pound for pound, blow for blow, of the
beneficiaries and exemplifiers of the spirit of the Christ it is said, “Ye
shall know them by their fruits”. If the “fruit of the spirit is love, joy,
peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-
control”, then wherever, and in whomever, they are found is a place
where the Spirit of the Christ is alive and well.
Statements like “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life” “No one
comes to the Father except by me” show something other than an
egotistical desire for homage and worship on the part of Jesus
Christ. They point out that God did something radical in the gift of
Jesus—our manifested metaphor—to show that the separation that
man had created and propagated through religious systems
between man and the Divine was artificial. That the veil that
separated was a human creation that needed to be torn down.
If God became flesh in the Christ, it was not in order to tear down
one blinkered system and replace it with another. It was in order to
tear down the illusion of separation from God, propagated by a
myriad of religious systems the world over and the tyranny that
came with controlled, regulated access to the Divine; and to open
our minds to the liberty that has always been ours to access and
connect with God. To remind us of our true roots and destiny.
“Greater things than this shall ye do” (words of Jesus), “That he may
be the firstborn among brothers” suggest something that many
Christians acknowledge, but only as a future event: That what the
Christ was, we are to be. Some call it Christ consciousness. The
reaching of an elevated plain of knowledge and understanding that
allows each willing human being to live out the essence of his being
as exemplified by the Christ. It is our destiny to come to the point of
realization expressed by the Christ: “I and the Father are One”. A
truth so simple, so sublime, that to the disillusioned and
unenlightened, it sounds like blasphemy.
Jesus came to make one of the many. To end the division that was
the natural consequence of claims of exclusive access to God. To
bring the illusion of separateness from God to an end.
“That they may be one”. One of the Christ’s last recorded requests
to the Universe, and one that seems to be finding fulfillment more
outside than within the group dubbing itself ‘the body of Christ’. The
demonized New Age movement, Pagans and natural religionists, the
Buddhists and Hindus, etc., seem to have gotten the gist of the
mission and message of the Christ. The love, acceptance and
genuine compassion that are found in certain among them, while
not proving or disproving the inherent superiority of their systems of
belief , seem to manifest the pervasiveness of the Christ Spirit.
You. Whoever you are. Are you making one, and unifying? Or are
you dividing, splitting hairs, separating, criticizing and living in a
tunnel that allows for no way but yours to be ‘the right way’?
Some people must define the scope of the work of the Divine; it is
not enough that they have found a path. They must clone
themselves in everyone they meet. Some have written rulebooks,
creeds and models, which they believe every seeker must follow,
while others spend their time in endless arguments with anyone
that doesn’t see eye to eye with them, trying with force of zeal and
fervor of heart to win people over to their preferred religion or belief
system.
To them I would say: Get over yourself. Your metaphor is your own.
What makes sense for you may not make sense for another. An
orange tree cannot yield pears. If a life is yielding the fruit of the
Christ spirit, it is of Christ’s spirit. Enlightenment comes not from
without, but within. Seeking to bring enlightenment to others is
noble. Allowing people to come to it in their own time, of their own
accord, in the form that works for them, is wisdom.