Back Catalog is an occassional series on music and lyricism, old and new, that I am discovering or rediscovering.
Michael W. Smith is an old hand in the Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) scene. I’m not going to do a scholarly history here, so all I’ll say is that he was big in the 90s, he’s handsome as fuck, and he’s what you might call a superstar in CCM. The man can do no wrong. He’s polished, but not too much. Not rough around the edges like Rich Mullins. You’d call his stuff, like, adult contemporary? My punk rock friend Josh gives me shit all the time that I like his stuff, but I can’t help it. It speaks to me. I need something to calm me down sometimes, and Smith is the shit. Shoot it right into my veins.
I want to offer some meditations on a few of his songs, starting with “Secret Ambition” (1988), written by Smith, Wayne Kirkpatrick, and Amy Grant.
Secret Ambition
A song about Jesus as a political radical. I know, right?
Verse 1
Young man, up on the hillside
Teaching new ways
Each word, winning them over
Each heart, a kindled flame
Old men, watch from the outside
Guarding their prey
Threatened by the voice of a paragon
Leading their lambs away
Leading them far away
Jesus is not named here, and that is why this first verse resonates. Smith et al. are describing something timeless. These are the actions of a “radical.” There are lots of kinds of radicals. Cult leaders. Political revolutionaries. Inspirational teachers. In more recent times, technology innovators.
Jesus was a radical. Speaking truth to power in a colony of the Roman Empire, the epitome at the time of the triumph of force of arms, money, and cultural dominance. The greatest commandment is “Love one another?” Are you fucking high, Jesus?
Smith et al. continue in their Refrain.
Refrain
Nobody knew His secret ambition
Nobody knew His claim to fame
He broke the old rules steeped in tradition
He tore the holy veil away
Questioning those in powerful positions
Running to those who called His name
But nobody knew His secret ambition
Was to give His life away
Here, I initially interpret this final line through Smith et al.’s Christian interpretation of Jesus. In a Christian interpretation, Jesus’ “secret ambition” is dying for the sins of the world. And because he was God, he knew he was going to die for this purpose: atonement. Everyone in his time thinks he’s just a radical. But his “secret ambition” is to save humanity from its sins.
But now, as an exvangelical, when I hear this refrain, I interpret this “secret ambition” as martyrdom. The first Christian martyr was not Stephen—it was Jesus. And this martyrdom highlights an idea that many of us in modernity struggle with: that there are ideals worth dying for. Not people. Ideals. Most people can imagine self-sacrifice for a person they love. I can. But if Jesus isn’t divine, then we’ve gotta make sense of his actions as a mortal here. And I think his “secret ambition” here is to be a martyr for his cause.
Why do I think he is trying to be a martyr? He has angered the leaders in his community. He is stirring up trouble, questioning the leaders’ power. He is a threat. So he must be made an example of. Jesus accepts this and, true to his ideals, he does not fight back. Except in Luke’s account (22:36-38), where he asks the disciples to bring swords with them to Gethsemane. A Redditor once pointed out this action was likely done to give the imperial agents a pretext for arresting him. At this point, he does seem like he knows death is coming, and he hastens it. Why?
Two possibilities. One: he is a good friend and leader. He hastens his death to protect the ones he loves—his disciples. He knows the powers that be want his movement squashed. They’ve had to deal with political radicals before (see Simon the Zealot). He worries his friends will get caught up in the imperial reaction to his troublemaking. So he will take the fall for them to protect them. And there’s the Christian ideal of self-sacrifice.
But a second possibility: Jesus is a political radical who hastened his death as a strategy to challenge the moral authority of the powers that be and win more adherents to his cause—and ultimately, to bring down the oppression of colonization and imperial force.
Smith et al. continue.
Verse 2
His rage, shaking the temple
His word to the wise
His hand, healing on the Sabbath day
His love wearing no disguise
Some say, "Death to the radical!
He's way out of line"
Some say, "Praised be the miracle!
God sends a blessed sign
A blessed sign for troubled times"
The vocal arrangement and effects on “Praised be the miracle” is particularly poignant—you hear whispers. It gives me chills each time I listen. And it beautifully captures social reactions to radicals. They’re way “out of line” for some. And for some, radicals are fresh water in a desert. They are relief that they are not crazy. That the system really is fucked up, and the radicals know what’s up. And you can’t say it out loud for fear of social and imperial repercussions, so you whisper it. “A blessed sign for troubled times,” indeed.
In light of these lines, I tend to interpret this “secret ambition” as a fulfillment of Jesus’ (still) radical principles he articulates in the “Sermon on the Mount” in Matthew 5.
38 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’[h] 39 But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. 40 And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. 41 If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.
Traditional Christian interpretations of this passage have seen this as advocating for pacifism, but for a lot of Christians, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. What about self-defense, Jesus? C’mon. But I think Jesus has a radical political strategy here, articulated best by Walter Wink’s seminal work, Jesus’ Third Way.
Jesus is not telling us to submit to evil, but to refuse to oppose it on its own terms. We are not to let the opponent dictate the methods of our opposition. He is urging us to transcend both passivity and violence by finding a third way, one that is at once assertive and yet nonviolent.
…
To an oppressed people, Jesus is saying, Do not continue to acquiesce in your oppression by the Powers; but do not react violently to it either. Rather, find a third way, a way that is neither submission nor assault, flight nor fight, a way that can secure your human dignity and begin to change the power equation, even now, before the revolution. Turn your cheek, thus indicating to the one who backhands you [in disrespect] that his attempts to shame you into servility have failed. Strip naked and parade out of court, thus taking the momentum of the law and the whole debt economy and flipping them, jujitsu-like, in a burlesque of legality. Walk a second mile, surprising the occupation troops [who by law could only conscript you to walk one mile] by placing them in jeopardy with their superiors. In short, take the law and push it to the point of absurdity.
And so, the cross takes on new meaning here. It is the ultimate turning of the other cheek. What did Jesus do to merit crucifixion? Advocate a religious philosophy that placed love above all? “Healing on the sabbath day” that challenged the traditions of his time? “His rage, shaking the temple” causing significant property damage to merchants? And what did the Empire do? Subject him to the most humiliating, grotesque punishment reserved for the worst criminals. He took the law and pushed “it to the point of absurdity.” As if to say, “Really? I deserve crucifixion for what I have done?” It highlights in the most stark terms the moral bankruptcy of the people who put him there. If martyrdom was his “secret ambition” as a political radical, it was admirable, smart, and changed the world.
Caveats
Who knows if this is what actually happened? I’ll defer to the historians here. But you gotta think about why the early Christians were telling the story this way. This story was probably being told before any of the theology of atonement was getting sorted out, before even the divinity of Jesus was accepted as dogma, while Paul is still writing his letters. This is probably what got passed down in oral tradition before it got written down. The Christians were already facing persecution by the Empire1. The early persecuted Christians needed a moral example to look to when they were dealing with the horrors of religious persecution. And Jesus is it. You die for this shit. That’s what this is all about. Something to die for.
And I’ll also acknowledge that Jesus said shit that I don’t agree with anymore. I’m not trying to say he hadn’t done anything “wrong,” per se. Like, “his rage, shaking the temple” was clearly a crime by today’s standards. Today, he would be arrested for disorderly conduct and attempted assault (he had a whip) and could be sued for damages. But crucifixion was a massive overreaction and a punishment not fitting the crime. This is imperial Rome after all—they did have different morals, and they were barbaric by today’s standards.
Finally, I will acknowledge that it’s pretty likely that the martyrdom aspect of the story of Jesus was so backgrounded in my own interpretation of my religious upbringing that I simply missed it. I might be just that dense. I know a lot of Christians have thought about the political implications of Jesus’ death in the context of first century Rome. But I guess, to me, it just never really mattered as much as atonement, so I didn’t think about it much. The humanity of Jesus mattered only insofar as it showed that God loved us enough to become like us, and that he knew what it was like to suffer as a human being (see my meditation on Rich Mullins’ “Hard to Get”). The fact that he was born in imperial Rome was an accident of history and not really relevant. But ever since college (when I first read Wink’s piece), I think of his historical context as critical to understanding Jesus. I’m pretty slow sometimes, I suppose.
Flavors of Radicalism and Martyrdom
I think “Secret Ambition” highlights many flavors of radicalism and martyrdom, and that is why it resonates today.
First, radicalism is something we’re all more familiar with now. Radicals have been amplified by social media, so they are more salient in popular culture. We all hear their voices, sometimes too much in our own heads. And so, to see Jesus as a “radical” makes me turn my head a bit. Grouping him with the likes of people I consider “radicals” makes me question how I have often seen Jesus, as a kind, wise man advocating views that many people I know agree with. Christianity is normal today—it’s no longer a first-century cult. Its “radicalism” is, at least, questionable today. But it wasn’t then, in the context of imperial Rome.
But on the other hand, I kinda know what it feels like to be a “radical.” I know what it’s like when people—who I think are talking sense in the face of craziness—are labeled “radicals” by people I disagree with. And I think, “Well then, if they’re a radical, I must be too.” So I’ve been persuaded by “radicals.” I know what it’s like to be part of a “radical” movement. To hide in the shadows, commiserating in secret group chats, worried about social sanction or losing my job if my “radical” views came out. And that’s why “Praised be a miracle… a blessed sign for troubled times” resonates so much. Because we all have been living in “troubled times,” and when I heard the words of a “radical” that made sense to me, it felt like a “miracle.” But I felt like I couldn’t say it too loud—I felt like I had to whisper it in long chats on the phone with old friends in the privacy of my own home. Being labeled a “radical” is never safe. And the story of Jesus shows why.
This shiftiness of the word “radical” suggests we may be using “radical” nowadays just to demonize people we disagree with. We’ve all got our own sense of the Overton Window, the range of acceptable views in polite society. Some of our windows are narrow. Some are wide. I try to keep mine as wide as possible. And I do it because I don’t want anyone’s “secret ambition” to be to “give their life away.” The conditions of closed-mindedness and authoritarianism that drive people like Jesus to such an end are barbaric, imperial, and inhumane.
Finally, some “radicals” use the martyrdom strategy to excuse abusive behavior. There’s a type of person who violates laws or abuses people, and when they are held to any type of account, they refuse to acknowledge any responsibility, and then accuse their “persecutors” of abuse of power and of conspiring against the “radical” and their adherents. This is where we get a “martyrdom complex,” characteristic of narcissists. I’m being intentionally general here to highlight this is not partisan. Many people in our “troubled times” have used martyrdom in ways that suggest abuse. After all, anyone can die or sacrifice for ANY cause. Martyrdom does not a saint make, nor make just a cause. It may only mean that you have found a cause worth dying for.
And the question is whether that cause is, in fact, your own deluded sense of self or an ideal that could make the world a better place. And, God help me, sometimes it might be both.
Later, early Christians were persecuted by the likes of the Stoic Marcus Aurelius, a fact I wasn’t happy to learn about a man whose writings have helped me a great deal. Humanity is complicated.