Almighty and everliving God, in your tender love for the human race you sent your Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him our nature, and to suffer death upon the cross, giving us the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share in his resurrection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Life has many heart-stopping moments. I suspect it is true for most people, and perhaps doubly so for parents. We teach our children to look both ways before crossing the street, and when we send them out to play, we trust our instructions and advice will be put to good use, but one never knows. We send them out, but we don’t just hope for the best. We devote our time teaching them the ropes needed for survival, so there’s an expectation that all will be well.
We no longer have to fear lions and tigers and bears (Oh my), but there is still plenty to worry about. There’s gun violence, bullies, global warming, and all that stuff. We want to protect our children and grandchildren, but the task just seems so overwhelming.
It is in thinking along those lines we find our Collect for Palm Sunday so jarring. We find God intentionally sending their Son into harm’s way, to “take upon himself our nature …”
It’s hard to wrap our minds around Holy Week.
You know, I understand acts and consequences. I understand that when one commits a crime, there is a consequence to that act. One may or may not be caught, but the act is an act of violence that falls upon both the victim(s) and the perpetrator. We cannot do violence to another without it affecting us, too. Even if one is a sociopath or psychopath, damage is done. One may end up in jail, or shot and killed, or something in between. Whatever it is, we are responsible for our own actions and the consequences of those deeds.
In a world of metaphors and similes, however, something is lost in translation in Holy Week. It is one thing for each of us to endure the consequences of our own thoughts, words, and deeds … but Jesus? The idea of God the Son becoming human (coming down from heaven, as we express it) and “to (intentionally) suffer death upon the cross …” seems to be a bridge too far.
It is easy to gloss over the horrors of Holy Week – we know how the story ends. Many people will skip the Holy Week services (having endured Palm Sunday and the reading of the Passion Narrative) and go directly to Easter, with its lilies, bunnies, and bonnets. We know how the story ends, so why should we drag ourselves out during the week for the Office of Shadows on Wednesday (Tenebrae), and Maundy Thursday with that strange foot-washing ritual and the stripping of the altar, and Good Friday with its emphasis on the arrest, trial, torture, sentencing, and (finally) the execution of our Lord? I mean, didn’t we already do that on Palm Sunday? Who wants reruns? Raise your hands.
Jesus dying for us just doesn’t make sense, does it? Has anyone reading this committed a capital offense? So while, yes, I can see the need for Jesus to die for some others, I (and perhaps many of us) struggle to see and/or accept his need to die for them. We are good, for the most part. We do not inflict harm on self or others, for the most part. The things we do in life really don’t add up to requiring the death penalty (beyond our dying of old age or disease). So why did Jesus “have” to die?
I don’t believe Jesus “had” to die to make up for all the bad stuff we and the rest of humanity have said, thought, or done in all of history. The Cross is not a check God wrote out to God’s self to cover the cost of all we’ve done. Forget the “how it works” of the cross. The fact of the cross is THAT it works. God restores us to God and to one another.
The question our Collect calls us to consider is how much we add to the weight of the cross by the things we say and do. It is the cumulative weight of the sins of the whole world that hang upon the cross. Jesus did not die for us, as we often put it. Jesus lived for us. We are called to imitate Christ in our lives. Yes, it may cost us our lives, but for the most part, we gain life by imitating Christ – walking where and how he walked, with eyes pointed toward justice, mercy, grace, and healing.
That works for me, and I thank God for the example Jesus gave us. By his stripes we are healed. By his death, we are made whole.
Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment