Barefaced Buck Naked

I cannot find a commercially produced image of a naked Jesus of Nazareth on the cross. A search of crucifixion of Jesus on Amazon brought 1000 results, but none of them had Jesus naked. They all included that precisely positioned loin cloth that looks like a diaper. Our millennia-long sense of modesty with respect to the crucifixion obscures the historical fact that those whom Rome crucified were naked.

Years ago, I stumbled upon some websites making the claim that Christ died without being clothed, and based on their historical research I agreed. Then I contacted a relevant professor in a Jerusalem university to get his opinion on the matter. He said that indeed Jesus would have been naked on the cross. (I know this debate can go either way, but for me, he’s naked.)

Probably, the Lord was stripped naked when he was flogged by the Roman soldiers. While it was customary for the convicted to carry their crosses naked through the city to the crucifixion site, the Romans acquiesced to Jewish sensibilities about public nudity and clothed Jesus for his journey to Golgotha. Once there, his clothes were divided among the soldiers, and he went up into the air to suffer the dual indignity of being unclothed and dying like a criminal on a cross.

In our shameless society we cannot begin to imagine the horror Jews attached to public nakedness. While there is evidence that some ancient Jewish traditions allowed for men to be naked prior to being stoned, the bulk of the historical record points to the idea that public nakedness was a great societal disgrace.

We live in a culture that is thoroughly acclimated to public nudity. In America public nudity is not a disgrace. It can be an art form, an act of defiance, or a good-natured prank. In most of our minds, it seems, we have decided that public nudity is certainly not something about which we must be ashamed. We may even admire the audacity of it all.

We see it in the public square and in multiple entertainment venues. Streaking was all the rage when I was in college. A good friend and his buddy walked nude down their co-ed dorm floor to the amusement of scores of hooting women.

My intern in the governor’s office was a graduate of Luther College and, with a twinkle in his eye, enjoyed retelling the excitement afforded the annual midnight naked co-ed soccer match on campus. He eagerly let me know he participated in that moonlit soiree.

There are rugby teams in England that play their matches in the nude. Public nudity and sex are routine sights during San Francisco’s Folsom Street Festival. The annual Burning Man event in the Nevada desert finds plenty of nudity because it’s an anything goes carnival and, of course, the heat can be oppressive. A recent episode of the Bachelorette television show featured the men in a match of strip naked dodgeball. It’s like strip poker but set in a dodgeball game.

However, let’s not stop at public nakedness. Lots of other public things are shameless: drunkenness, urination, vulgarity, sexual intimacy, bullying. Now it seems even rioting and looting are without shame.

Shame is the painful sensation we feel in response to the consciousness of guilt that has degraded our reputation in the sight of others. Shame comes in progressively worsening stages, from embarrassment to humiliation to mortification. It is first mentioned in the Bible in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve realized they were naked following their disobedience.

The Bible is explicit about shame: The wicked are shameless. Seemingly, nothing can phase a wicked man. Everything is permitted and nothing is intolerable, including public nakedness. Whatever prompting shame naturally brings to us to conceal what modesty demands is wholly disregarded by a culture numb to restraints. Those who suggest a shameless society is a godless one are quickly labeled as prudes by the prevailing ethos.

For truth has stumbled in the public square, and honesty cannot enter. Yes, truth is gone, and anyone who renounces evil is attacked. (Is 59:14-15 CSB/NLT)

Omnipresent internet porn is public nudity in a digital format. A culture coarsened by pornography can’t decide if it’s degrading or delightful, illicit or enlightening, or even art at all. Proponents would never consider that porn is shameful and opponents would argue that it was but not before they looked at it to make an informed judgment.

All of this – public nudity, vulgarity, intimacy, and bullying – erode the sensibilities of the culture in which they are embraced. This is a hardening of the conscience that makes it impossible for it to register as sinful, or at least inappropriate, even the most shameful acts. It’s as though the culture is asleep while it burns to the ground. We’re barefaced about our buck-nakedness.

The fact is that America needs more shame, not less. We need to feel reviled when children are bullied publicly and the videos are posted online. We should be repulsed with displays of public vulgarity and jesting, even if it’s coming from the president of the United States. Our response to scantily clad performers on shows like Dances with the Stars should be something approaching disapproval if not disgust. Yet we won’t be bothered by these things unless we cultivate a renewed consciousness of shame that such public excess is unhealthy and harmful to all of us.

We need to stop excusing obtrusive impudence as though it were a sacred right. Men need to pull their pants up, cleanse their mouths, and stop pushing others around. Men don’t become manlier by stripping on national television during a dodgeball game. They don’t look more educated when they’re vulgar. They don’t demonstrate maturity when they denigrate others.

Shame on you should be part of every conscientious American’s response to things in society that are mean and degrading and that should not be tolerated any longer. The first to lead should be men who have the courage to call out these culture busters for what they are. I’ll join them, but first let me clear my browser history.

When a society so completely blocks the human thirst for transcendence, should we be surprised that such longings reroute themselves into an expression of mere physicality? Maybe the problem is not that people are getting naked, but that they aren’t getting naked enough: we stop at the skin instead of going deeper into the soul. Philip Yancy, Finding God in Unexpected Places