Monday, April 11, 2022

The Passion as a Mirror

 


The Passion of our Lord according to Luke

Year C

It is perhaps the most troubling, most upsetting thing we are asked to do in liturgical worship.  Once each year we are required to become part of a mob witnessing the rigged trial of a person who brought peace into the world, modeled forgiveness, loved the unlovable, and criticized the hypocrisy of the elite, be they political, religious, or the indifferent well-to-do.  And with the mob we are forced to render a verdict. 

“Crucify him!  Crucify him!” 

The words which rang out in the courtyard in front of Pilate’s residence centuries ago become our words echoing throughout this space – this space where we come to be married, to baptize our children, to receive the sacrament, to ask God’s care and keep before we bury a loved one.  “Crucify him!” seems so out of step with everything else this place is for us, and yet it is here on this day we are directed to say these words; words which in some way link us to the original throng and make us culpable with them.

It has been well chronicled crucifixion is one of the cruelest, most painful forms of execution ever devised.  Mel Gibson’s 2004 movie The Passion of Christ was criticized for its extreme, graphic depiction, but (at least to my way of thinking), it was probably far tamer than the real thing.  I have heard numerous sermons and talks describing in detail the exact nature of the suffering crucifixion inflicts.  I will spare you the details. 

Typically, the point of such preaching is to impress upon the listener the pain and punishment Jesus took upon himself to pay the penalty for our sins.  The whole point of Passion Sunday, then, is to impose a quilt trip which will drive us to our knees in remorse.  This then motivates us to amend our lives moving forward in grateful acknowledgement of all Christ has won for us through his suffering on our behalf.  When accompanied by an extreme emotional response, it becomes what is known as a “conversion experience.”

This process is known as the atonement theory of the Crucifixion:

9    We are all sinners.

9    Sin demands punishment.

9    The punishment is death.

9    It is a cost too great for us to pay.

9    Christ, being sinless, pays the price (or atones) on our behalf. 

It is a nice, tidy theology, certainly with biblical roots and support from the ancient Hebrew sacrificial system.  But I wonder if we are missing something when the complex events of this day become as describable as a recipe for baking chocolate chip cookies.

In 1972, a French writer by the name of Rene Girard authored an influential and somewhat dense book titled Violence and the Sacred in which he explored the ritual role of sacrifice in diverse religious and cultural systems.  His work has been hailed by many for analyzing how socially sanctioned violence (like crucifixion) has been played out in many different cultures and ages. 

Girard sees in the Cross a kind of mirror which forces us to look at ourselves and at our society.  And what we see when we look at ourselves is our most violent tendencies, from political institutions to personal encounters.  In the Cross we see our tendency to scapegoat the weak and marginalized in order to absolve and unify the whole.  When we shout “Crucify him!”, it is not because we want redemption for telling petty lies or sneaking a second helping of dessert.  We are proclaiming Jesus must die because he threatens the status quo by calling into question fundamental aspects of our society and ways we benefit from them at the expense of others.

It takes a brave person to engage the news in our day and time: shootings in downtown Suffolk and a killing in northern part of our city; gunshots at McArthur Mall and Virginia Beach; gang shootings in Sacramento’s entertainment district, unspeakable, inhumane acts in the Ukraine; multiple states enacting legislation designed to marginalize the most vulnerable and misunderstood members of our society.  Ours is a violent world and the human race is a violent people.  In some way, shape, or form, every act of violence is a statement proclaiming I will get what I want at your expense, or I will make secure what I value by rendering you harmless.  This is the message mirrored back to us from the Cross.  This is what we seek when we say, “Crucify him!”  We want our lives to be better by making someone else’s worse.

The word ‘atonement’ was created by William Tyndale, the first person to translate the bible into English from original Hebrew and Greek texts.  It literally means “at-one-ment”, the bringing together of that which has been separated.  Tyndale used this word as a translation for several different biblical words which mean ‘reconciliation.’  Like so many before him, he saw in the Cross a work meant to unite God to a world estranged from God – at-one-ment – and to bridge the chasm between peoples so deeply divided against one another.  Does Jesus accomplish this by transferring the unpayable balance of our sins into his own account or did he make it possible by holding before us the worst of our behavior and calling us to repent? 

A rocket strike at a railroad station kills dozens of innocents, injuring scores more, all attempting to flee the destruction of their homeland.  Before the soldiers fired the weapon they took the time to paint on it a message: “For the Children.”  I ask you this: did Jesus die on the Cross so the sins of these perpetrators would be forgiven (the atonement theory) or to hold up to us a mirror which forces us to look at our darkest tendencies and calls us to repentance and change?

Well, either way, this much is certain: as individuals, as a people, as a society, as the human family, we desperately need God’s Spirit to fall upon us to transform us in ways we desire but cannot achieve through our own initiatives and merits.  Through the observance of Holy Week, we are invited to do more than shout “Crucify him.”  We are invited to walk with Jesus, to ponder the meaning of a symbolic foot washing, to share in the institution of his sacred meal, to stand in silence at Golgotha, to die with him, and (ultimately) to rise with him in newness of life.  It is a journey from “Crucify him” to “Create in me a new, clean heart.”  I invite you to join me on this pilgrimage of dying and new birth.


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