Loida I. Martell-Otero
Last Christmas season, a sign at a store caught my
attention. It simply read, “Try Jesus.” Yet what do the words of this
oft-repeated phrase mean? The word “try” itself can mean a variety of things.
It can mean to put on trial. Perhaps it is when one tries another’s patience.
Then again, “try” can mean testing something or putting on a garment to see if
it fits, as in “try it on for size.” And what of that catch-all name “Jesus?”
It seems to me that the phrase requires one to ask: “which” or “what” Jesus?
Thus “try Jesus” is not as innocuous or self-evident as the shopkeeper who
placed that sign might have originally thought.
Consider, for example, the Jesus represented by the consumer
spirit that is so heavily espoused by corporate interests: the blue-eyed,
aquiline-nosed papier-mâché product pasted on Hallmark card sentiments. This is
the Jesus that is pushed upon us through incessant commercials and propaganda
that say that if we buy enough merchandise we will be blessed with a stronger
economy and brings work to a nation with a growing unemployment rate.
Of course, these subliminal and overt messages that push us
to higher debt and to continuous cycle of purchasing bigger and better things
for less and less cost do not encourage us to look too closely at the labels or
the consequences of what we purchase. One day I decided to go into my closet
and look at the labels of all the articles of clothing in there. They indicated
that they were made in Thailand, Vietnam, the Philippines, China, and so on.
What we do not understand is that purchasing these items does not help our
economy. What it does do is continue to enrich corporate interests that exploit
the nameless and faceless in maquiladores south of our borders and the women
and children who work inhumane hours in inhumane conditions in sweatshops in
the Pacific Rim and Asian countries. This is one way of “trying Jesus.”
Jon Sobrino in Jesus in Latin America compares the
“crosses” of the millions who die daily in Latin America due to poverty and
oppression to the cross of Christ. We try Jesus—that is to say, we put Jesus on
trial—when we participate mindlessly and are complicit in the continued
exploitation of the world’s poor as we continue in this mindless consumer mentality
that has become such an integral part of American life.
Perhaps the Jesus to whom the slogan referred is the Jesus
that became the justification for the colonization and exploitation of so many
countries by the “Christian” nations of the North Atlantic. The assumption of
Manifest Destiny, the bombing of Hiroshima, the war with Mexico and later with
Spain, the continued incursions into Latin America, and the continued wars
against people of color in the world—including Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, and
Iraq—are all claimed and done under the cloak of religious language.
The post-Enlightenment hubris that justified the racist and
xenophobic policies that led to the genocide of Indians in the Americas, the
exploitation of brown people south of the border, and the colonization of
peoples in the Caribbean has not abated in the postmodern world. Postmodernism
has not erased colonialism or neocolonialism, nor has it helped abate sexism or
other -isms. These are not separate issues but intertwined. In But She Said, Elisabeth Schüssler
Fiorenza refers to them as “multiplicative pyramidal oppressions.” It is part
of the language and posture of empire.
In a 2004 essay in the New
York Times Magazine, Ron
Suskind reported on how President George W. Bush’s administration used
religious rhetoric to squelch any debate or opposition to the decision to
invade Iraq. Bush believed himself to be “on a mission from God.” Suskind
further reported that a Bush aide described the US as “an empire now” which
created its own realities. If the report is accurate, such a blatant
malformation and misuse of the foundational principles of Christianity to
justify war and empire-building also “tries Jesus.” It must try Jesus’ patience
to see his name used in vain in such destructive ways.
Perhaps what we need to reflect upon is the Jesus of the
Gospels, the one who walked with the poor and the forgotten. This is the Jesus
who sought out people at the margins—those rendered invisible by the social
structures of their time. Gustavo Gutiérrez in We Drink from Our Own Well
defines spirituality as “following Jesus,” by serving the poor and forgotten of
our time.
Orlando E. Costas echoed this spirit of trying Jesus in his
book, Christ Outside the Gate. Written in 1982, his book already protested
the use of Christianity as “Christendom,” as a cloak for empire building. In
the book’s epilogue, he cited the scriptural text Hebrews 13:12 to remind us
that “Christ remains outside the gate” where the forgotten, the oppressed, and
the marginalized reside, where there is no justice and where often there is no
hope. It is there that Jesus beckons us to join him. It is there that we are
invited to “try Jesus.”
* Professor Loida I. Martell-Otero is Professor of
Constructive Theology at Palmer Theological Seminary, the Seminary of Eastern
University at Wynnewood, Pennsylvania, and is coeditor of Teologia en
Conjunto: A Collaborative Hispanic Protestant Theology with José D. Rodriguez.
