Identity, Idolatry, and the Gospel (part 1)

The following is a two part post looking at the nature of the human heart and how it intersects with the gospel of Jesus Christ. Jeremiah will take the first part. Jeremiah is an unbelievably perceptive, analytical individual. He understands cultures and their particular tendencies, and what that tells us about humanity and the gospel. He’ll take the first part, and I’ll take the second. This is ultimately the written record of a wonderful conversation (among many) Jeremiah and I had in Caesarea. 

Jeremiah Lepasana

I’ve always found greatness fascinating. As a kid it made watching Jordan can’t miss events, and studying successful wartime presidents fun to research. At times, it even gave me an unhealthy curiosity for examples of greatness-gone-bad in the stories of Hitler and Pablo Escobar. Ambitious people are intriguing. They are dominant, and more often than not, ruthless. If you don’t believe me, just listen to Jordan’s Hall of Fame speech. Erik and I were talking about it the other day during an extended walk/hike. It’s crazy. Jordan could not help but give a verbal beating to all the people he already humiliated during his career.  He just gives beating after beating. It’s too amusing.

Here’s where I explain why this all matters. On this trip we’ve been running into countless of names and figures that at one point on another shaped history. You’re thinking, “right, no big deal, you’re on a history trip.” But let me tell you about one particularly intriguing personality, whose contributions to the Israeli landscape not only helps students better understand the story of Scripture, but also whose personal ambitions help me better understand myself.

Waves breaking over the barrier wall at Caesarea

The man’s name is Herod the Great. He was alive for parts of the 1st Century on both sides of 0 (meaning both BC and AD) and he built these incredible structures. Last week we visited the crown jewel of his desert fortresses at Masada. The thing was impressive, and totally unnecessary. He built it in the middle of the wilderness where there’s hardly any water. It’s right next to the Dead Sea. Our professor described the place as one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. I’m guessing it’s either because of the unusually high salt content in the water, or maybe because of the insane drop in elevation that makes sets it on the lowers point on the earth’s surface. Either way, there are some serious geographical difficulties.

It’s almost like Herod picked the most difficult project he could find just to make a statement. You don’t do that unless you have a lot of confidence. Like the kid at the local basketball courts who went out of his way to pick the two nerdiest kids to complete his three-person squad, just so there would be no discussion about who best was when they won. You hated the fact that he did that, but couldn’t help but be impressed at the same time, because he would win everytime. Herod had it like that. He was the king of Judea, and anytime he entertained people from Rome, he had food from Naples imported to the wilderness, just because he could. And he stomped on people in order to make it happen.

We visited five or so sites Herod built, and all of them seemed like they would have been remarkable. Aside from Megiddo, he built the Jews a lavish temple, his mother a winter palace complete with gardens and pools (also in the wilderness), and countless other temples for other deities. But at each place we visited only ruins were left. Our prof had to tell us to use our imaginations. On top of that, people hated the guy, so pleasant stories aren’t exactly told about him. Only piles of rock are left to speak for the legacy he hoped to build. They say when his death was nearing, he had popular Jewish leaders put in prison to be killed at the time of his death so that genuine mourning would take place when he died. Nothing he tried to build stuck.  Instead of story of massive accomplishment that is the story told of him. That can’t be greatness, but if not that, then what? Or maybe the better question is who? What force of nature from the 1st century still dominates conversation in the way Herod hoped to? Yesterday, we found the answer in a squatty town in northern Israel. We met Jesus.