Or at least that’s what we know to be conventionally true.

Each of the Gospel writers give a lot of details in the account of Jesus’ arrest, torture, and execution. All of which helps to illustrate one basic important fact: Dead is dead. Roman soldiers were extremely good at their business. And their business was death. No one could survive all that the Empire had to dish out.

A final spear to the side served as confirmation.

Which, I know, is a really hard thing to believe as Americans. We have oh so many oh so important things to accomplish and such little time to do it in.

What do we want? Success! And when do we want it? Yesterday!

Our calendars are our idols. They rule us like gods, rather than us utilizing them like tools. The problem with idols is that they make big promises about success and happiness, but then—after they have exacted their exorbitant fees from us—all they deliver is damage and sorrow.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus started his public ministry at a wedding party. He turned ordinary water into the most delicious wine. This was “the first of the signs through which he revealed his glory.”

In the same Gospel, Jesus finished his public ministry at a more grotesque public display. Right before he took his final breath he was given a low-class drink of wine vinegar to drink. “It is finished.” This was the last of the signs through which he revealed his glory.

Causes can bond people together. So can our values. An inspiring mission or vision can rally people. Sometimes a good, clear goal can do it. The thrill of some exciting shared moment can have a lingering, unifying effect.

Those are all good things, don’t get me wrong. But the bonds they forge are usually rather fleeting. And maybe that’s fine as far as it goes. Let us give thanks.

If you’re gambling for last place, for the thing no one really wants, only to see who walks away with the most unwanted prize, then you might be playing the wrong game with the wrong crowd.

If you’re the Roman soldier who goes home at the end of the day bragging to his wife, saying, “Look, Honey! I won a criminal’s briefs in a Craps game!” Well, then you deserve all the scorn she has to dish out.

He was king. Pilate was more right about this than he knew. Although, in a different way than he or anyone expected. So they missed it.

His authority and glory were not the audacious claims of a madman, as the religious leaders believed. His exercise of power and justice was not the steel-fisted heavy-handedness of Rome. The installation of his government was not by the usual political and forceful means that even his own disciples expected and hoped for.

Is essential to being understood. It does you little good to say anything at all if you’re only speaking your own language that the other person can’t interpret.

This is what all parents know. The babbling of a baby can be cute and all, but when real communication with actual intelligible words begins to happen, it’s a game-changer.

This is what all good public communicators know. An audience can only receive what is being expressed if it’s in words that they know, words they are familiar with and mostly use in their daily life.

In his Gospel, John has three subtle moments of foreshadowing about the Cross. All of which involve Jesus calling himself a snake.

In the first, right before his famous “For God so loved the world” line, Jesus compares himself to a bronze snake on a pole. “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.” (John 3:14-15) This is in reference to a rather strange story from Numbers 21. The main point being that people are in danger of death because of their own rebellion against God, so the antidote (like all actual antidotes) is the means of death itself.

When religious people fill in that blank with “Caesar,”you know things have gone sideways.

Of course, it’s not always literally “Caesar.” “Caesar” is a metaphor, a type, a placeholder for whatever else or whoever else demands our allegiance, influences our values, or drives our decisions. We humans have many “Caesars, ” and we are endlessly creative at inventing new ones.

Nor is “Caesar” always stated so clearly. There are more ways to affirm loyalty than with words. How we use our time, money, resources, relationships and more are often the real pudding in which you can find the Proof.

Means “Caesar is not.” This is what the early Christians understood and adopted as their politically subversive catch phrase, turning the common phrase “Caesar is Lord” upside down.

This is what the mob who pushed for Jesus’ crucifixion were counting on as their argument for conviction: “Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.” And in the end, they were right. It was Jesus’ claim to kingship that got him killed.