Why Do You Strike Me?
A Christological Exploration of Police Brutality.
by By: James Howard Hill, Jr.
Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, “Ihave spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.” When he had said this, one of the police standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” Jesus answered, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” John 18:19-23, NRSV
Jesus was a victim of police brutality.
I realize that such a statement, though unequivocally true, will not be proclaimed from the pulpit of many churches. Many leaders within the Church, though fully convinced they are faithfully living out the tenets of the gospel, are, in fact, guilty of sanitizing and domesticating Jesus’ life and death. They do so in order to perpetuate an ethos of imperial appeasement. This allows the powerful to remain comfortable in their privilege while sequestering the socio-political implications of Jesus’ arrest to the dampened bowels of theological consciousness. Though I am fervently convinced that a Christology that omits the harsh realities of injustices experienced by Jesus first-hand is a theological farce, I believe that there are many pastors and leaders who do not commit such errors egregiously. Many of these leaders were discipled and taught within an apolitical theological vacuum that presented Christ as an esoteric, cosmic deity who cared more for the soul of a person than the socio-political conditions that surrounds them. Though their lack of understanding is not malicious, their neutrality in the face of communal sorrow and pain is, nevertheless, indicting and must be, therefore, addressed. What is desperately needed this hour is a model of discipleship that seats Jesus within the struggle of the Brutalized and Berated. What is urgently required from the Church is a theology that exposes the violent ethos of the powerful and stands in deep solidarity with those who feel suppressed under the yoke of corruption and violence.
What is desperately needed this hour is a model of discipleship that seats Jesus within the struggle of the Brutalized and Berated.
One area where the Church can immediately effect change is in how it chooses to articulate Jesus’ arrest and subsequent beating at the hands of police authorities. The fact that Jesus was arrested is not something that the Church should try to domesticate, sanitize, or spiritualize, particularly in the United States of America, where more individuals are incarcerated than any other nation in the world. If the Gospel narrative omitted his arrests then we would have every right to omit it from our homilies, lectures, and discussions as well. However, not only do the Gospels chronicle Jesus’ arrests in graphic detail, they shy away from any depiction that would whitewash the visceral injustice. The Gospel of Matthew, for example, writes how the police spat in Jesus’ face. The author of the Gospel of Mark writes how the police blindfolded Jesus and took turns striking him in the face. The author of the Gospel of Luke writes how the prison guards mocked Jesus as they beat him. While the author of the Gospel of John details many of the same brutal events, his narrative has one key distinction- in John’s Gospel, Jesus speaks out against the police brutality inflicted upon him.
In John’s Gospel, an officer became so enraged with the manner in which Jesus spoke to the authorities, he struck him in the face and asked sardonically, “Is that how you answer the priest?”! “If what I said is right”, Jesus replied in righteous defiance, “Why did you strike me?” With his hands in chains and with a swollen mouth full of blood, Jesus demanded both truth and accountability from the abusive law enforcement figure. What relevance does Jesus bold declaration have today, in the midst of a world teeming with brutality and falsehood?
With his hands in chains and with a swollen mouth full of blood, Jesus demanded both truth and accountability from the abusive law enforcement figure.
For one, it places Jesus sternly on the side of the brutalized and not the brutalizers. This is a very important fact. When Jesus asked, “Why did you strike me?” he was not only speaking for himself but on behalf of every human being who has ever felt the dehumanizing blow of brutality. When we say that Jesus was “well acquainted with grief” and “familiar with sorrows” we should not be so hasty to divorce that statement from its socio-political roots. When we say that he was “pierced for our transgressions” and “bruised for our iniquities” we must dare to ask who profited from the piercing and which groups benefited from the bruising. In essence, Christology rooted in the struggle of Jesus compels us to demand all violent authority figures to be held accountable and live in the light of truth. Christology seeded in the reality of Christ’s brutalized frame demands that all Christians be vocal against brutality. We must stand against coercive injustice committed by those who are sworn to protect and serve, just as Christ vocally spoke against brutality and coercive injustice.
Christ vocally spoke against brutality and coercive injustice.
Over 2,000 years ago, a 33 year old man from Nazareth stood in a Jerusalem jail cell with a swollen jaw, blackened eyes, and dried spit in his beard. He was both the victim of an abhorrently unethical justice system as well as a faith community who had forsaken their mandate to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with their God. More than anything, his mangled body was a scathing indictment of how far the people of Israel had strayed away from the will of their God. Tonight, invariably, there is someone, somewhere sitting inside a dampened jail cell with a swollen jaw, blackened eyes, and dried spit in his beard or on her face. Their mangled body sitting in swollen silence indicts every church that exists under the shadow of their brutalized frame.
Do we not see them cry?
Do we not hear them ask “why did you strike me?”
Do we not know that Jesus, too, was a victim of police brutality?
At this point, do we even care?
James Howard Hill, Jr. is a Master of Theological Studies candidate at SMU. He is an activist, writer, Jesus follower, Son of the revolution, and concerned human being. Follow him on Twitter at @j_hilljr
