“The Gospel of Commitment”
Rev. Bud Adam
I want to tell you a story. It’s based on the Gospels, the first four books of the New Testament, but it’s a story that I’ve never told, it’s one I’ve never heard, and it’s a story I never even read about. But if you read closely and spend a bit of time learning some background information, the story is clearly there. It’s just hiding in plain sight.
The main characters in this telling are the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Twelve Disciples, and, of course, Jesus. The location is Judea, the southern part of what had been the nation of Israel.
In 333 BCE, it had been overrun by Alexander the Great who, instead of obliterating the cities and enslaving the people, introduced the Greek language and culture. About two hundred years later, the Romans took the area by force and installed a governor whose main job was to collect taxes and keep the population under control.
In order to keep the peace, the Jewish people were allowed to govern themselves—to a point. Their government was a blending of church and state. The Pharisees were the religious leaders. They were extremely legalistic and enforced their interpretations of scripture on the people. The Sadducees were wealthy landowners who largely stood above those same laws and were content to let the Pharisees maintain order.
Life was bleak for ordinary people. They owned little land, had little voice in government, and lived under constant fear that they might unknowingly violate one of the Pharisees’ countless religious laws. Those judged to have crossed the line could be banned from the synagogue and effectively cut off from society.
Into this world came Jesus. He spoke of hope, acceptance, inclusion, and an end to policies that excluded people, condemned ordinary citizens, and marginalized women and foreigners. Unsurprisingly, those who held power found his message deeply threatening.
What made Jesus especially dangerous was that he knew scripture as well as—if not better than—the religious leaders themselves. When challenged publicly, he answered thoughtfully and often turned the criticism back on his opponents. His popularity grew, but every public victory also brought him closer to his own execution.
As support for Jesus increased, the established powers charged him with crimes and put him on trial. The message to everyone watching was unmistakable: challenging those in authority came with consequences.
The fear worked. Public support evaporated almost overnight. Even his closest followers became cautious, hiding their identities and keeping out of sight.
After Jesus was executed, his closest companions scattered beyond the borders of Judea. The movement seemed finished.
It would take decades before the seeds of his vision began to grow again. Even then, resistance from entrenched power forced those ideas to survive only within existing religious structures, where they had to conform to what those institutions considered acceptable.
As any gardener knows, weeds are nearly impossible to eliminate. The teachings of Jesus—known in those early days simply as The Way—continued to survive, though often trimmed and reshaped until they fit within accepted religious structures.
Centuries later, those teachings had spread so widely throughout the Roman Empire that they could no longer be suppressed. Rome adopted Christianity as an official religion, building a rigid hierarchy that often exercised power through fear and control. So the pattern continued through history.
Jesus never asked people to worship him. His vision was not about creating another religion. He struggled against rigid religiosity, seeking instead a way of living rooted in compassion, shared humanity, and freedom from political power.
Yet today we continue to witness the same temptation to merge religious identity with political power. As history repeatedly shows, authoritarian systems often seek to drain people of hope, convincing them to retreat into silence and resignation.
Yet when I reflect on our Seven Principles, I find something entirely different. They are not rules that constrain us, but guideposts that invite us to live lives grounded in compassion, justice, and the flourishing of all people.
We are about to enter the season of Advent—a season of arrival, of birth, of new beginnings. When it feels as though everything we cherish has been reduced to ashes, remember that ashes enrich the soil and nourish new growth. What we have to offer the world through these principles is that very promise of renewal: a vision of a world better than the one we currently inhabit.
May these principles become a light that shines through the darkness, guiding us to stand courageously for what we know to be right.
The Seven Principles
- The inherent worth and dignity of every person.
- Justice, equity, and compassion in human relations.
- Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations.
- A free and responsible search for truth and meaning.
- The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large.
- The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all.
- Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.
Some things never change. Evil always raises its ugly head. What matters is what comes next—how people respond.