Joerg Rieger, "Christ and Empire"

 

Joerg Rieger’s Christ and Empire: From Paul to Postcolonial Times is a theological and historical exploration of how Christian understandings of Christ have been shaped by imperial power across different periods, and how those understandings have simultaneously carried seeds of resistance against empire. Rieger’s central thesis is twofold: first, that images of Christ have often been co-opted by the logic of empire, whether Roman, feudal, colonial, or modern; and second, that the figure of Christ always contains a “surplus” of meaning that escapes imperial control and continues to inspire movements of liberation and solidarity with the oppressed. Throughout the book, Rieger reads key moments in Christian history through what he calls a lens of “ambivalence,” showing that theological formulations often both support and subvert empire at the same time. His project is both historical and constructive, aiming to uncover ways Christology can be reframed to resist the powers of domination that pervade past and present.

The narrative begins with the earliest Christian communities shaped by Paul’s proclamation of Jesus as Lord. In the Roman imperial context, calling Christ “Kyrios” was inherently political, implicitly challenging Caesar’s claim to lordship. Yet the very language of lordship also reflects imperial hierarchies, showing the ambivalence of early Christian confession. While imperial ideology threatened to absorb or neutralize the radical message of Jesus, the Pauline communities retained a surplus of resistance in their solidarity with the poor and marginalized. This surplus is seen in the egalitarian impulses of the early church, which envisioned a community not based on the stratifications of Rome but on the transformative power of the crucified and risen Christ. Here, Rieger establishes his framework: empire seeks to shape Christology in its image, but Christology always carries elements that can undermine empire from within.

As the church moved into the era of Constantine and the ecumenical councils, Christological formulations became intertwined with imperial ambitions. The Nicene and Chalcedonian definitions, which articulated Christ as fully divine and fully human, were developed in contexts where theological unity often paralleled the political desire for imperial unity. Constantine’s sponsorship of church councils illustrates how empire sought to harness Christian doctrine to stabilize its authority. Nevertheless, Rieger identifies a surplus in the mystery of the incarnation itself. The union of divine and human in Christ, despite being framed in imperial language, cannot be fully contained by empire because it implies God’s profound identification with human vulnerability. This theological surplus creates space for resistance, as the incarnation affirms the dignity of those the empire devalues and points toward a divine solidarity that undermines oppressive hierarchies.

Rieger next turns to the medieval period and the theology of Anselm of Canterbury. In Cur Deus Homo, Anselm develops his satisfaction theory of atonement, emphasizing that humanity’s sin offends the honor of God, which must be satisfied. Rieger situates this theology in the context of the feudal system, where relationships were structured by honor, obligation, and hierarchical restoration. Satisfaction theology mirrored this feudal logic, presenting God as a kind of feudal lord whose honor had to be repaid, which lent itself to imperial and hierarchical interpretations of salvation. Yet even here, Rieger uncovers a surplus of meaning that resists empire. Anselm’s focus on the relational aspect of atonement—God choosing to restore humanity through the self-offering of Christ—points toward a divine initiative grounded in love and mutuality rather than coercive power. This relational surplus contains seeds of resistance to the very hierarchical order his theology reflects.

In the early modern period, Rieger examines the work of Bartolomé de Las Casas, a Spanish missionary and advocate for the rights of Indigenous peoples in the Americas. Las Casas provides a vivid example of theological ambivalence in the context of colonial empire. On one hand, he courageously opposed the brutality of Spanish conquest and insisted on the full humanity of Indigenous peoples. His Christology emphasized a humble, suffering Christ who sided with the oppressed, offering a vision of spiritual authority that critiqued the violent practices of empire. On the other hand, Las Casas remained committed to the broader project of evangelization and imagined an alternative empire of faith, still rooted in European authority. His theology carried the imperial assumption that Indigenous peoples needed to be converted to European Christianity. Even so, his witness represents a significant surplus of resistance, as his advocacy and his Christology of humility challenged the prevailing colonial logic of domination.

Rieger then explores the nineteenth-century liberal theology of Friedrich Schleiermacher, which he interprets as participating in a subtler form of imperial imagination. Schleiermacher’s emphasis on the feeling of absolute dependence and the ideal of becoming Christlike reflected the self-confidence of European culture and the logic of colonial progress. His vision of spiritual maturation paralleled Europe’s sense of itself as culturally and morally advanced, suggesting that other peoples might be “elevated” through European influence. This reflects a colonial fantasy in which Christ becomes a model for the expansion of Western modernity. Yet within Schleiermacher’s theology there is also a surplus of resistance: his focus on individual conscience and subjective faith offers a potential resource for challenging authoritarianism and resisting rigid dogmatic control. This dimension of his Christology could inspire movements that prioritize inner transformation over imperial domination.

The discussion moves into the twentieth century with Gustav Aulén and his Christus Victor model of atonement, which reimagines Christ as victorious over the cosmic powers of sin, death, and evil. Rieger situates this theology in a world shaped by global conflicts and shifting power structures. Christus Victor has an ambivalent relationship with empire. Its language of victory can be co-opted by triumphalist, nationalistic, or militaristic impulses that echo imperial power. At the same time, the model contains a surplus that powerfully resists empire. By depicting Christ as liberator from oppressive forces, Aulén’s theology provides a foundation for social critique and for solidarity with those oppressed by systemic powers, whether political, economic, or spiritual. This surplus allows Christus Victor to become a theological resource for liberation movements rather than imperial ideology.

In his final analysis, Rieger turns to contemporary images of the cosmic Christ in a global and postcolonial context. The idea of a Christ who embraces the entire cosmos resonates in an age of globalization, ecological awareness, and neoliberal economic power. This Christology, like its predecessors, carries ambivalence. It can be appropriated by dominant systems as a vague, spiritualized vision that comforts the privileged without challenging systemic injustice. Yet the surplus in the cosmic Christ is profound: it affirms the interconnectedness of all creation, calls for solidarity with the marginalized, and provides theological grounding for resistance against global forms of empire, including economic exploitation and ecological destruction. The cosmic Christ opens possibilities for a holistic liberation that transcends national and cultural boundaries.

Rieger’s overarching argument is that Christology is never neutral. Across history, Christian understandings of Christ have reflected the influence of imperial structures, whether Roman, feudal, colonial, or global. Yet in every period, the figure of Christ contains dimensions that cannot be fully captured by empire. These dimensions—the surplus—invite resistance, solidarity, and transformation. By tracing this pattern from Paul to the postcolonial age, Rieger calls contemporary theology to self-examination. He urges Christians to ask how their own images of Christ may serve empire today, and how they can be reframed to stand with the oppressed and challenge systemic injustice. Christ and Empire is thus not only a historical study but also a constructive theological proposal, reminding readers that the Christ who was crucified by empire continues to inspire movements that resist domination and seek liberation in every age.