When I was growing up, my mother would tell me to watch for Jesus everywhere. He wasn’t just inside of the church. She told me I’d see him in places and faces we’d least expect to see him. Our expectations, as set by the evangelical church, were that Jesus had a very specific and narrow mission: to be the perfect lamb, the sacrifice that would pay for the sins of the world. The problem was that the ransom was only paid for those who would join the ranks of a specific organization called the church. You had to become part of the Christian church to be saved by Jesus. Years later, when I attended seminary to follow in my father’s footsteps, I learned that what my mother, a preacher’s wife, said to me as a child was theologically problematic, to say the least. Universalism, my professors told me, was a dangerous idea that waters down the gospel. I would have to keep these amusing notions to myself.

I did, however, share this idea with my new interfaith and interspiritual friends years after leaving the evangelical church. I was told repeatedly to read Father Richard Rohr. So when I finally got around to it, Universal Christ became my introduction to this extraordinary teacher. I was expecting the pages to be filled with the kind of watery theology that I’d been warned about. Instead, I found academic rigor encapsulated in a deep and fierce love. Early on, he mentioned that the Apostle’s Creed, which is still recited by Christians today, has no mention of the teachings of Jesus at all. It focuses solely on the virgin birth, then straight into the passion, death, and resurrection. I had never considered that the creed itself waters down the gospel a fair amount itself by not mentioning any of the “Good News” that Jesus actually preached.

In Universal Christ, Father Richard Rohr presents for us a history lesson about how the early church understood the death and resurrection. He sets atonement theory, the idea that Jesus’ death was a stand-in for our own capital punishment, against a historical backdrop, reminding us that there are other ways to interpret Jesus’ life and teachings.

The most important discussion is regarding who Jesus was and who Christ is as “incarnate.” The incarnation, or deity made flesh, isn’t something to celebrate at Christmas and lay aside as part of a heart-warming story. The incarnate Christ is indeed universal, not just in one person in the middle east around 2000 years ago, but in every blade of grass and in every face, just as my mother had taught me.

Just about every hungry question I asked of him when I realized where he was going with this idea was entertained. He wove in his understanding of the divine feminine, the afterlife, and good and evil. I had believed that non-dualism was incompatible with any kind of orthodox Christianity until I read his understanding of the trinity. It was almost infuriating that every word was, while probably controversial in the established Roman Catholic church, dripping with orthodoxy. Father Rohr challenges narrow perspectives on theology that are held dear by tradition. He asks his readers to face the reasons why these theologies were enshrined the way they were. He asks that we look to the future and bring a new kind of honesty to how we think of the “salvation” brought to the world through the incarnate Christ.

I left the evangelical church because I’d come to an impasse. My heart’s understanding of Christ was at odds with what I was being asked to believe. It was difficult to leave the religion I grew up in, but I remembered my mother’s words. I did find Christ in every face and every blade of grass. I even found others who believed as I did, and there was no reason to keep it secret anymore. Reading Universal Christ helped me to understand that I didn’t leave home after all. I have always been home. Now I have twenty years’ worth of work by Father Richard Rohr to catch up on.