A few years ago…

a team of archaeologists, forensic anthropologists, and medical artists…

sought to construct an image of what Jesus’ face might have looked like.

In reality, what they were constructing…

was what an average, first-century Palestinian man looked like––

rather than Jesus specifically;

but, as a first-century Palestinian man…

what they constructed offers a reasonable approximation of what Jesus would have looked like.

They began by studying a number of first-century Palestinian skeletal remains––

which had been unearthed––

and they took measurements of the size and placement of the eyes, lips, and nose…

and the dimensions of the skulls…

and they fed those figures into a computer model that they had created.

That model calculated the size and shape of the underlying musculature…

based on those measurements…

and created a reconstruction of the face.

The resulting image was a rather broad, round face…

with large lips… 

and a large bulbous nose.

To determine things like eye, hair, and skin colour…

they studied first-century artwork…

literary references…

and any Biblical passages that described physical appearance.

Based on those, they concluded that he would have had brown skin…

brown eyes…

dark hair…

and probably a dark, bushy beard––

as Hebrew tradition dictated.

Based on references in Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians––

which describe “long hair” on men as shameful––

they hypothesised that Jesus would have had short…

probably curly hair.

Based on references to Jesus having been a carpenter…

they assumed that he had a muscular frame and face…

and…

that his brown skin was further tanned and weathered from working outdoors.

He also probably would have been about five feet tall.

In many respects…

he would have looked like a shorter…

thicker-set…

modern-day Middle-Eastern man.

Of course, that’s a far cry from the sorts of images that most of us grew up with.

In some of our Church’s stained-glass windows, Jesus may have brown hair…

but it’s long…

his skin is pretty pale…

and his features are fine and quite European…

rather than round, broad, dark, and Middle-Eastern.

In a couple of the windows, he’s quite blonde.

And, from the Renaissance on…

and especially since the early Twentieth Century…

many images of Jesus have been of a white European… 

with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes––

almost Aryan.

Throughout history, we have tried to make him “one of us”.

Now, on one level, that’s not necessarily a bad thing––

in the same way that we find images of an African Jesus in Africa…

or an Asian Jesus in Asia.

It’s part of our way of identifying with him.

It’s part of our way of saying that Jesus relates to us

and that what he says speaks to us…

within our own time and place…

and our own culture.

But, on another level, it’s incredibly fraught.

There’s a fine line between portraying Jesus as someone to whom we can relate…

and portraying Jesus as someone who blesses and reinforces our beliefs, perceptions, and expectations.

In so portraying Jesus… 

don’t we unintentionally––

or perhaps, sometimes, quite intentionally––

impose our values, our cultural sensibilities, and our ideologies onto Jesus… 

so that Jesus simply comes to reflect who we are?

He reinforces our prejudices.

He espouses our values.

Indeed, there’s a well-documented link…

between the blonde-haired, blue-eyed images of Jesus…

and the ideologies of colonialism and white supremacy.

In a similar way, there’s a well-known satirical cartoon—

which you can find on the internet––

of a pastor from the American Religious Right unveiling a new portrait of Jesus––

one that was a more “appropriate” representation.

And this Jesus is a buff, blonde, body-builder…

wearing a tank-top emblazoned with an American flag and a large belt buckle with a Republican insignia…

a tattoo on his arm of a love-heart containing the words “Tax Free”…

and carrying an assault rifle;

the defender of talk-back radio––

otherwise-known as “free speech”–– 

and American capitalism.

If the image had only included some anti-abortion, anti-gay comment…

then it would have been perfect.

 

Throughout history, we have tried to impose our expectations…

our beliefs… 

our cultural sensibilities… 

our prejudices…

and our ideologies onto Jesus.

And that’s been happening…

almost…

since the very beginning.

We find it, even, in our story this morning from John’s Gospel.

Here, John’s Jesus draws his extended “bread of life” narrative to a provocative conclusion.

Previously, those whom the author describes as “Jews”—

by which he means Israelites who were antagonistic to Jesus––

have been scandalised and offended by Jesus’ pronouncements.

Now, it’s many of Jesus’ followers as well.

Some of them respond, “This teaching is difficult, who can accept it?”––

in the Greek, it’s much stronger than that…

literally, “this teaching” is “unpleasant”, “severe”, even “cruel”.

At this point, they seem to be referring to the suggestion––

which we heard last week, but which is repeated this morning––

that they do not have “life”…

unless they eat Jesus’ flesh and drink his blood––

consuming, or taking on, the nature of his humanity––

in language that is… 

while metaphorical…

still thoroughly cannibalistic in nature.

Now…

accusations of cannibalism were actually common in the ancient world…

frequently levelled at minority groups who were perceived to be dangerously anti-social;

that is, groups who challenged the traditional way of thinking and acting.

And John’s Jesus, in this extended narrative, takes up and adopts this anti-language…

as a badge of honour.

He’s deliberately being provocative and offensive.

He’s effectively saying:

“If you want to be authentically children of God…

then you can’t go along with traditional beliefs…

or cultural sensibilities…

or accepted religious ideologies”.

Jesus…

as the most-complete revelation of the nature of God…

shows us––

and demands that we follow––

a very different way.

And that suggestion that Jesus is revealing something different––

than what they have always been taught or believed––

is both threatening and offensive to many.

And so they left.

 

Now, it’s thought that the Johannine community was comprised of many who were of Hebrew origin.

Some of them were still struggling with how they could remain a part of that community…

and continue to attend the synagogue…

while they were also attracted to some of Jesus’ teaching.

They seem to have thought of him as another law-giver…

a bit like Moses. 

But they baulked at the author’s suggestion that Jesus is more than that.

For the author, these members of the church represent the disciples who left… 

when… 

in effect…

Jesus didn’t conform to what they expected him to be;

when Jesus didn’t simply reinforce their expectations, traditions, prejudices, or ideologies;

when Jesus called upon them to recognise who he really was…

and what he was calling upon them to do.

 

And, frankly, that’s a challenge that we all face––

no matter what we believe;

and no matter what sort of image of Jesus that we construct.

It’s important that we continually ask ourselves:

“To what extent am I imposing my expectations, traditions, prejudices, and ideologies onto Jesus…

and constructing a Jesus in my own image?”

 

How much of my own image of Jesus––

as someone who was inclusive and iconoclastic…

a proto-feminist and a proto-egalitarian––

how much of that is my own projection?

And yet… 

I’m pretty sure that Jesus––

and God––

are much closer to that… 

than to the gun- and coal-loving, anti-science, anti-gay, anti-refugee one… 

which the Religious Right wants us to believe in and follow.