Friday, April 6, 2007 at 2:02am
Reflections on Good Friday
Column: God Said What?
Today is Good Friday, the day when we Christians remember the death of Jesus Christ. And it's a day that has challenged my own images of Jesus. Especially the ones adopted many years ago.
For example, one of my earliest childhood images of Jesus was one of the most distant: the cosmic Jesus. That is, the image of Jesus as the all-powerful Risen One who comes again in judgment upon the living and the dead.
This was the Jesus who was larger than life, otherworldly and superhuman. This was the Jesus with terrible power who would crush evil and before whom the world would tremble with fear.
Not a comforting picture, to say the least. Although there is truth to it, for we Christians believe that Jesus will come again; I'm not sure that's the same Jesus we remember and revere on Good Friday.
You know, the one who gave himself up to suffer and to be crucified in an unjust and violent death. The one who before he died cried out that God had abandoned him. The one who was rejected even by those closest to him and was abused, beaten and executed as an enemy of the state on the outskirts of the city.
Somehow, the triumphant image of the cosmic Christ doesn't jive with the cross. For the cross testifies to suffering, pain and loss. And, let's be honest: It makes little sense to us that the God of all creation freely gave himself over to be unjustly and violently executed.
Yes, the crucifixion is difficult to understand. To the first disciples, it was crushing. Jesus had continually announced God's kingdom and performed signs and miracles that showed it had arrived. And some had hoped that Jesus as the Messiah would right away triumph over the worldly power structures and set up God's nation here on earth.
Instead, he was executed. There was no glory or triumph in this, only what seemed like failure and humiliation. Jesus, God in the flesh, was nailed to a tree and left to die. That was humankind's response to God's kingdom breaking into the world.
This should challenge our own images of Jesus on this day. It's certainly challenged mine. As John's gospel reminds us, God dwelled among us in Jesus to give an indisputable sign of God's prodigal love so that we would proclaim him as our Lord, enter into discipleship and have life in abundance. This acceptance, though, means that we change the way we think and live. In other words, we repent and submit ourselves to God's will, not our own will, being done.
Perhaps the best reflection on Jesus' death comes from Joseph Cardinal Bernardin, the late archbishop of Chicago:
"In the final analysis, our participation in the paschal mystery — in the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus — brings a certain freedom: the freedom to let go, to surrender ourselves to the living God, to place ourselves completely in his hands, knowing that ultimately he will win out!
"The more we cling to ourselves and others, the more we try to control our destiny — the more we lose the true sense of our lives, the more we are impacted by the futility of it all. It's precisely in letting go, in entering into complete union with the Lord, in letting him take over, that we discover our true selves. It's in the act of abandonment that we experience redemption, that we find life, peace and joy in the midst of physical, emotional and spiritual suffering.
"This is the lesson we must first learn from Jesus before we can teach it to others. We must let the mystery, the tranquility, and the purposefulness of Jesus' suffering become part of our own life before we can become effective instruments in the hands of the Lord for the sake of others.
"As Christians, if we are to love as Jesus loved, we must first come to terms with suffering. ... Like Jesus, we will love others only if we walk with them in the valley of darkness — the dark valley of sickness, the dark valley of moral dilemmas, the dark valley of oppressive structures and diminished rights."
Cardinal Bernardin's reflection on the cross is powerful. And it testifies to how the cross shakes all of our images of Jesus, for the cross is the consequence of a reckless love that yearns to heal us and give us life and that burns against injustice and evil. At the Last Supper — when Jesus said, "This is my commandment: Love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" — there was a challenge to accept and to demonstrate for others this same divine love.
It's a love that knows no boundaries and that protests the way we live our lives. It's a love that challenges how we think about God and our fellow human beings. And it's a symbol of a God who freely accepted death and nothingness for our sake.
There are few of us who truly desire to walk the path of Jesus. And I'm as wary of it as anyone else. I don't like the path of the cross. I don't want to give up everything I have, including myself, for the sake of others.
Still, the cross stands before me. It stands before all of us. It's a challenge, a tragedy and even a miracle. It's the final earthly sign of Jesus that God will triumph over evil despite all evidence to the contrary.
It's a symbol of the reckless love of God for human beings. And it's the challenge that is love's consequence.
— — —
Kevin Considine is a graduate student at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago. Recently he was married to a most wonderful woman who keeps him in line and reads his columns to see if they make sense. He and his wife live on the South Side of Chicago. He welcomes comments, feedback or fits of anger and can be reached at {email considkp@yahoo.com}considkp@yahoo.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Kevin Considine
For example, one of my earliest childhood images of Jesus was one of the most distant: the cosmic Jesus. That is, the image of Jesus as the all-powerful Risen One who comes again in judgment upon the living and the dead.
This was the Jesus who was larger than life, otherworldly and superhuman. This was the Jesus with terrible power who would crush evil and before whom the world would tremble with fear.
Not a comforting picture, to say the least. Although there is truth to it, for we Christians believe that Jesus will come again; I'm not sure that's the same Jesus we remember and revere on Good Friday.
You know, the one who gave himself up to suffer and to be crucified in an unjust and violent death. The one who before he died cried out that God had abandoned him. The one who was rejected even by those closest to him and was abused, beaten and executed as an enemy of the state on the outskirts of the city.
Somehow, the triumphant image of the cosmic Christ doesn't jive with the cross. For the cross testifies to suffering, pain and loss. And, let's be honest: It makes little sense to us that the God of all creation freely gave himself over to be unjustly and violently executed.
Yes, the crucifixion is difficult to understand. To the first disciples, it was crushing. Jesus had continually announced God's kingdom and performed signs and miracles that showed it had arrived. And some had hoped that Jesus as the Messiah would right away triumph over the worldly power structures and set up God's nation here on earth.
Instead, he was executed. There was no glory or triumph in this, only what seemed like failure and humiliation. Jesus, God in the flesh, was nailed to a tree and left to die. That was humankind's response to God's kingdom breaking into the world.
This should challenge our own images of Jesus on this day. It's certainly challenged mine. As John's gospel reminds us, God dwelled among us in Jesus to give an indisputable sign of God's prodigal love so that we would proclaim him as our Lord, enter into discipleship and have life in abundance. This acceptance, though, means that we change the way we think and live. In other words, we repent and submit ourselves to God's will, not our own will, being done.
Perhaps the best reflection on Jesus' death comes from Joseph Cardinal Bernardin, the late archbishop of Chicago:
"In the final analysis, our participation in the paschal mystery — in the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus — brings a certain freedom: the freedom to let go, to surrender ourselves to the living God, to place ourselves completely in his hands, knowing that ultimately he will win out!
"The more we cling to ourselves and others, the more we try to control our destiny — the more we lose the true sense of our lives, the more we are impacted by the futility of it all. It's precisely in letting go, in entering into complete union with the Lord, in letting him take over, that we discover our true selves. It's in the act of abandonment that we experience redemption, that we find life, peace and joy in the midst of physical, emotional and spiritual suffering.
"This is the lesson we must first learn from Jesus before we can teach it to others. We must let the mystery, the tranquility, and the purposefulness of Jesus' suffering become part of our own life before we can become effective instruments in the hands of the Lord for the sake of others.
"As Christians, if we are to love as Jesus loved, we must first come to terms with suffering. ... Like Jesus, we will love others only if we walk with them in the valley of darkness — the dark valley of sickness, the dark valley of moral dilemmas, the dark valley of oppressive structures and diminished rights."
Cardinal Bernardin's reflection on the cross is powerful. And it testifies to how the cross shakes all of our images of Jesus, for the cross is the consequence of a reckless love that yearns to heal us and give us life and that burns against injustice and evil. At the Last Supper — when Jesus said, "This is my commandment: Love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" — there was a challenge to accept and to demonstrate for others this same divine love.
It's a love that knows no boundaries and that protests the way we live our lives. It's a love that challenges how we think about God and our fellow human beings. And it's a symbol of a God who freely accepted death and nothingness for our sake.
There are few of us who truly desire to walk the path of Jesus. And I'm as wary of it as anyone else. I don't like the path of the cross. I don't want to give up everything I have, including myself, for the sake of others.
Still, the cross stands before me. It stands before all of us. It's a challenge, a tragedy and even a miracle. It's the final earthly sign of Jesus that God will triumph over evil despite all evidence to the contrary.
It's a symbol of the reckless love of God for human beings. And it's the challenge that is love's consequence.
— — —
Kevin Considine is a graduate student at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago. Recently he was married to a most wonderful woman who keeps him in line and reads his columns to see if they make sense. He and his wife live on the South Side of Chicago. He welcomes comments, feedback or fits of anger and can be reached at {email considkp@yahoo.com}considkp@yahoo.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Kevin Considine