Alexamanos Graffito

Robert Capon writes, “Shamelessness is the supreme virtue of the Incarnation.”  I think Capon is right.  To cave into the accusing voices of shame is to drain the Gospel of its power.  In a word, God is shameless.

Recently, a friend told me the story of when he used the “f-word” in a religious gathering. (I would spell out the word for clarity but, ironically, most internet search engines have a higher morality than I do and would block it).  He used the “f-word” to ease the shame of someone in the group who accidentally said, “damn,” and felt terrible for doing so.  Can you see the picture?  A guy of questionable moral fiber accidentally said, “damn” at a bible study and felt ashamed for doing so.  My friend, who has sworn maybe twice in his whole life, saw that the man was ashamed and immediately threw out an awkwardly placed, ill-timed, and altogether forced “f-bomb” in hopes of covering the shame of the shamed one.

Alexamenos worships his god.

One of the earliest known depictions of Jesus, is the Alexamanos Graffito, dating from c.200 AD or earlier.  It is an early parody of Christianity.  It was discovered in 1857 in Rome and is now in the Palatine Antiquarian Museum.  This wall carving is much like the graffiti we might find on a bathroom stall today.  It shows a man with an ass’s head being crucified and a youth raising his hand, as if in prayer.
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Coming Home

The high priest carries the blood of animals into the Most Holy Place as a sin offering, but the bodies are burned outside the camp. And so Jesus also suffered outside the city gate to make the people holy through his own blood. Let us, then, go to him outside the camp, bearing the disgrace he bore. For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come. Hebrews 13:11-14

At the Center for Transforming Mission we use this text from Hebrews in conversations with grassroots leaders located within the street culture to ask meaningful questions about posture and place. The text reveals an invitation from the author that suggests a posture of humility and a place outside of what is known as the camp. We use this text in an attempt to explore parallels that grassroots leaders can identify with in their own stories and to place their endeavors in context. Once amplified, we begin to ask about the location of Jesus and about the camp. It does not take long for these leaders to see from within their context that they themselves, and Jesus, are located outside of the camp. They then quickly identify the camp as the church. This becomes the perfect place for grassroots leaders to hear good news about their posture and place either already present, or yearning to be present in life outside the gates of the camp. I am one of those leaders.

I learned a lot about faith growing up as the son of Mexican pastors who had committed their lives to serving predominately undocumented communities on the streets of Southern California. I learned even more about love when I began rejecting their religion, giving myself to a life of street culture at the early age of nine. Keep those two statements close as I invite you to peer through a small window of my journey back into the street culture of Denver, Colorado and why I am beginning to understand the choices made by many in the Hispanic Church.


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