The Murder of Christ by Wilhelm Reich

Author:Wilhelm Reich
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

CHAPTER XII

TOWARD GOLGATHA

Christ must die on the cross at Golgatha. Not because he endangered the Roman Empire. Others have endangered the Roman Empire and lived. Christ would die, not because he aroused the caste of the priests by his harsh words of criticism. Others had criticized the Sanhedrin; others had cursed the hypocrisy of the mechanized, Talmudic Jew, and continued to live. Christ did not die in shame because he pretended to be King of the Jews. He never dreamed of being the Emperor of the Jews. He would have rejected such an idea if it had been offered to him by the Roman emperor himself.

Christ would not know how to be a “King of the Jews.” Can you imagine Christ riding a fiery white stallion, galloping ahead of a column of mounted Maccabeans, with sword drawn, blinking in the early morning sun, and shouting, “Heigh Hop! Hop Heigh! Forward, Charge!”? This cannot be visualized. It is unthinkable, impossible; it would be perfectly ridiculous. No worse degradation of living Life in Christ can be imagined. You can imagine Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler, but not Christ in this situation. Christ simply does not fit here.

Accordingly, Christ will be scourged and crucified by the people as the “King of the Jews.”

Christ does not fit and looks ridiculous in any attire which means aristocratic honors and high standing in the world of armored man. You cannot imagine Christ rattling down a litany, nor can you imagine him ever receiving the Honorary Degree of Doctor of Law at X University. He was a stranger in Jerusalem, and he would have been a stranger in any city in any place in the world at any time during written human history. Christ has a natural dignity and a direct, charming acuity of speech which is not fitting. One just does not behave that way. People love it and flock around a man having such gifts; but they would never do it themselves. They would blush, feel uncomfortable, somewhat out of place in any gathering of men behaving like Christ — simple, and straight, sharp-witted but not smart alecky, radiating love and contact but not obtrusive or clinging.

Christ does not fit into this world except within the small flock of innocent, ignorant admirers and followers in the midst of the green hills and vineyards of Galilee. And even with his admirers he is out of place. He is incapable of fully enjoying the hailing as does a Mussolini, the abortive genius who fits people’s dreams of a hero like a glove made to fit the hand. It is more likely that the admirers feel uncomfortable in his presence, not being quite free to make their usual sex jokes or to engage in small chitchat and talki-talk.

Christ is entirely out of place anywhere among armored men, yet he is their very hope, the essence of their dreams about a better future life. His greatness in simple, straight thinking turns out to be a handicap in the twisted and complicated arguments with the scribes.

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