Seeing Jesus

They tell Philip they want to see Jesus in this coming Sunday's Gospel reading. We see him already, we think, but maybe seeing in a new light would be helpful.

A lot of people I talk to don’t care much for Lent. They don’t like the Holy Week services, especially the Maundy Thursday stripping of the altar. Good Friday’s stark vision of a wooden cross, as sounds of the hammer echoes in the church seems far too ugly and dark for them. Easter, now that’s different. Beautiful music with extra instruments, hymns and anthems of hope and life. The gold of the cross gleams unveiled again in the procession and on the altar. It’s uplifting. Yes, it is uplifting, inspiring, bright, refreshing, vibrant—what’s not to like?

But, none of these Easter moments can happen if Jesus doesn’t go to the garden and, with great torment, so much so that he sweats blood, dies to himself. As much as he loves life, he will not cling to it for his sake; instead he lets go for our sake. As much as he might want to have more time with his disciples to proclaim his message, he knows he cannot have it without eternal peril to himself and us. Instead he faces the inevitable and he tells the Greeks, “it is for this reason that I have come to this hour….” that is, it is because I love you more than life itself, that I have come to this hour.”

There is no Easter resurrection without the waving of palm branches and the subsequent cry of “crucify him!” from those very same people. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus experiencing Maundy Thursday’s betrayal by Judas and by sleeping friends who cannot stay awake for him one hour. There is no Easter resurrection without Good Friday’s abandonment by the inner circle of friends. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus’ torture, suffering, and death. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus hanging limp and bleeding on the cross.

It may be we have lost something important when we, unlike our Roman brothers and sisters, view the empty cross. Their use of a crucifix requires them to focus on the horror inflicted on Jesus, on death’s apparent victory much more than we. Maybe we have sanitized his sacrifice too much by venerating an empty golden cross. Maybe we spend too little time remembering the terrible cost to him because we focus to much on the benefit to us. I don’t know what the balance should be between these things.

But at this season, somewhere between sweet little Jesus in the manger and glorious Jesus robed in white, ascending to heaven, somewhere between these images, I think we would do well to focus more on the cost. And this is precisely that time of the year to see Jesus in a new light. A light that illumines the broken body, streaked with sweat, spittle, and his life’s blood. A face looking down, weighed by the crown that slices into his scalp. A face streaked with tears as he says goodbye to his mother. Parched lips that mutter a prayer and a sigh too deep for words. A chest that heaves its last and is violated by a spear. A body hanging in death, swarmed by flies who cannot wait for the warmth of life to ebb away, replaced by the cold of death.

I want to keep that image in front of me for more than the service of Good Friday. Maybe when I hear the crisp snap when the host is broken during the Eucharist, I want to remember his unspeakable anguish and the incredible love for me that it represents. Maybe then, I can leave worship, seeing my responsibly to love and serve in a new light.

Peace,

Jerry+