A religious treachery

On the Ides of March (15 March) 44BC, Julius Caesar was murdered by killers known to him. The chief conspirator, Marcus Brutus, was much loved by Caesar. His part in the plot caused Caesar to gasp, as he was receiving the 23 stabs that killed him, 'Et tu, Brute?' (literally, 'you too, Brutus?').

 

Brutus was the son of one of Caesar's favourite lovers, Servilia. Brutus' birth co-incided with the timing of their passionate affair. The writer Plutarch, in AD 110, suspected that Caesar thought that Brutus was his love-child. However, it is likely that Brutus was the son of another man.

 

Sometime later, Pompey rose up against Caesar in a bloody civil war. Brutus, the opportunist, sided with Pompey. This was a strange act, considering that Pompey had executed Brutus' (real) father years earlier.

 

After Pompey was defeated at the battle of Pharsalus, Brutus fell at the mercy of Caesar, writing him an apology letter, calling out for clemency. Caesar pardoned him. In fact, he not only pardoned him, but gave him a high position in his government as an Urban Prefect.

 

A pardoned man, regarded as a son, seated in high places by the most powerful man in the known world at that stage. That is who Brutus was.

 

In many ways, the story is a faint outline of the gospel, albeit acted out by very flawed characters. Brutus is a picture of sin: the alienated child, estranged from his father, irrationally siding with the enemy who has already caused him untold damage. There is a king. King of kings at that stage, who misses his 'child' and exercises a gracious pardon over the rebel and proceeds to seat him in high places, all at his own expense.

 

Tragically, Brutus' gratitude for his pardon was the murder of his saviour.

 

I often think that when we claim our salvation as our own doing, we are like Brutus.

 

When we try to save ourselves we are effectively denying our Saviour. Brutus also denied his saviour.

We have no good works. We have not inherent merit. We have not acts of righteousness to rely on. So when we receive a gracious pardon, but subsequently reject the King's pardon through a self-salvation project we begin to deal in treachery.

 

Either God has saved us by reference entirely to His own works of righteousness; or we have saved ourselves by reference to our own works of righteousness. It is either the one or the other.

If God alone has saved us, we have no rights or deserts and are left only with gratitude. If we save ourselves, then we have rights and deserts, and we are left with a lust for God's own throne.

  

Do we believe that God still owes us something, like a better life, that we can demand on the basis of our own performances?

Shakespeare got it right when he scripted Caesar to gasp in the murder scene of the play: 'Et tu, Brute?!'

After all I have done for you, Brutus, even you now demand my overthrow. You of all people, Brutus! How could you?

Now that you are saved, Christian, if you resort to taking pride in your own works of righteousness so that you can overthrow God from His throne and ascend to it yourself, pause and say to yourself: 'Et tu, Christian?'