"Reverence for inconspicuousness"

What does it tell us about the state of theology today that the most moving reflections upon the death of Jesus I have read in a very long time were written over 40 years ago by a Marxist?

[T]he advice to give Caesar that which is Caesar's (Mark 12, 17) does not teach getting along with the world, as Paul does later, but disdaining the world: soon there will be nothing any more that is Caesar's. The pound that is to gain by usury is exclusively goodness, the inner treasure. The way to raise it is the imitation of a love that made a man cease to want anything for himself, that made him ready to lay down his life for his brethren. The Eros of Antiquity was love of beauty and splendor; Christian love embraces instead not only the lost and oppressed, but especially the inconspicuous. The motion of ancient love is reversed, and this alone does make partiality to the poor an end in itself, now - the end that follows their election, from the sojourn among the little people. Jesus himself is present among the helpless, as an element of their low estate. He stands in obscurity, not in spelndor: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, he have done it unto me" (Matth. 25, 40).

Christian love contains this inclination to inconscpicuousness in the world, to the encounter with it and to the effect of the encounter; it contains the pathos and the mystery of little things. Hence the importance of the child in the manger, together with the meanness of all circumstances in the cramped, out-of-the-way stable. The surprise finding of the Saviour in a helpless child became an enduring part of Christian love, most assuredly in its Franciscan form; it regards the helpless as important and the outcasts in the world as called. It always has the adoration of the child in mind, and the search for the chief stone of the corner which the builders had thrown away. Reverence for inconspicuousness is the final key the this reversal of the motion of love, and to its hearkening, gripping, waiting for a turnabout at the asides, the silences, the anti-greatness of the world. . . .

Jesus is the sign that contradicts . . . power, and the world contradicted that sign with the gallows; the cross is the world's reply to Christian love, to the love of the last that shall be first, of the outcast in which the true light gathers, of the joy which in Chesterton's acid phrase was the great publicity of a few heathens and became, or will become, the little secret of all Christians.

Ernst Bloch, Man On His Own, pp.185-187

Beyond "Amen", I'm not sure what else to say.