"We have taken the sword of Caesar, and in taking it, of course, we have rejected Thee and followed him." –The Grand Inquisitor

In the greatest chapter ("The Grand Inquisitor") in the greatest novel (The Brothers Karamazov) of the West's greatest novelist (Fyodor Dostoyevsky), Jesus Christ returns to earth–not in heavenly glory on bright clouds of angels–but "in that human shape in which He walked among men for thirty-three years." The time and place of this advent were awkward for the church: Seville, Spain, in the sixteenth century, where "the day before almost a hundred heretics had, ad majorem gloriam Dei, been burned by the cardinal, the Grand Inquisitor, in a magnificent auto da fe, in the presence of the king, the court, the knights, the cardinals, the most charming ladies of the court, and the whole population of Seville."

The crowds swoon around the Messiah, who "moves silently in their midst with a gentle smile of infinite compassion,"–after He heals someone blind from birth, children throw flowers at His feet. When a funeral procession carrying a young girl sets her coffin before Jesus, "His lips once more softly pronounce, 'Maiden, arise!'" She does.

But the Grand Inquisitor, seeing everything, throws Him in the dungeon, and that night, with a light in his hand, he comes to the Prisoner and asks, "Why, then, art Thou come to hinder us? . . . Tomorrow I shall condemn Thee and burn Thee at the stake as the worst of heretics. And the very people who have today kissed Thy feet, tomorrow at the faintest sign from me will rush to heap up the embers of Thy fire."

The Grand Inquisitor then ("the old man") lectures Christ on His mistake of giving human beings freedom. Using the temptations in the wilderness as his focal point, the cardinal tells Him that He misunderstood human nature, and that by granting humans freedom He increased their misery, because only by vanquishing freedom can men be happy. It's not freedom they want, he says; it's the bread that Christ refused to make from stones.

"In the end," the old man says, "they will lay their freedom at our feet, and say to us, 'Make us your slaves, but feed us.'" Because Jesus insisted on giving humanity freedom, "Thou didst reject the only way by which men might be made happy. But, fortunately, departing Thou didst hand on the work to us. Thou hast promised, Thou hast established by Thy word, Thou hast given to us the right to bind and to unbind, and now, of course, Thou canst not think of taking it away. Why, then, hast Thou come to hinder us?"

As an ardent Russian nationalist (a few years in Siberia cured him of his socialist leanings) Dostoyevsky used "The Grand Inquisitor" to attack Roman Catholicism. Yet the point of the poem could be applied to any church that attempts to arrogate political power to itself in blatant contradiction to the life, example, and ministry of Jesus Christ.

Suppose Jesus returned to 1998 America in the same manner He does in The Brothers Karamazov? How would the National Council of Churches treat Him? Would He be asked to write for Sojourners? Would He join Operation Rescue? Would Christ pass out Christian Coalition Voter Guides? (If He were in office, how would Christ fair in them?) Would James Dobson put Jesus on his radio program to discuss politics? Would He be a welcome lecturer in political science at Jerry Falwell's Liberty University? Would Gary Bauer want Him on the staff of the Family Research Council? Would Pat Robertson want Jesus ruminating about politics on the 700 Club? Would He be asked to write for First Things on political issues? Would Jesus be invited to speak at the Christian Coalition's Road to Victory conference? Would Jesus be asked to speak at the Republican National Convention? Would Bill Clinton invite Him to the White House to help promote his political agenda?

Or, instead–would Christ stand in their way? Would His refusal to be involved in politics, or even speak out on it, make Him an embarrassment, even a gadfly, to those who pursue political agendas in His name? Nothing about Christ (judging by the words and methods that He used at His first advent) would make Him an asset to the political groups that today use Him to justify their goals. How inconvenient that Christ left no example or command for the church that bears His name to arrogate for itself political power. Thus, what could those who in His name seek that power say to Him if He returned–except "Why hast Thou come to hinder us?"

At the end of the poem, the Grand Inquisitor utters to the Prisoner: "I repeat, tomorrow Thou shalt see that obedient flock who at a sign from me will hasten to heap up the hot cinders about the pile on which I shall burn Thee for coming to hinder us. For if anyone has ever deserved our fires, it is Thou. Tomorrow I shall burn Thee. Dixi."

How did Christ respond?

"The old man longed for Him to say something, however bitter and terrible. But He suddenly approached the old man in silence and softly kissed him on his bloodless aged lips."

No wonder Jesus would be in the way.