Anne Cutri produced one of her best psalms today. You can read it here:
http://open.salon.com/blog/anne_cutri/2010/05/11/hold_fast_the_words_of_saint_clare_of_assisi
I commented, "Indeed, Anne. Indeed. This is one of your best. I have read it a dozen times and each time I find more meaning hidden in it. I am not sure, but I believe because it has happened to me, that at times when we are pressed the most we do our best work. We have to dig down for our best thoughts and intentions, if for no other reason than to avoid spiraling into the darkness and out of His light -- and ultimately in so doing we come close to the core that holds us together; to the values that anchor our reality. You are doing that. I am proud of you."
I have been spending a bit more time here lately, reading, not doing any original writing. And I have watched more than a few of you dear friends struggle with the burdens of life as they bear down on your shoulders. Many of you have shared those burdens, and I hope that in so doing you have found some succor in the kind comments of those of us who care enough to say that we care.
What I have noticed is that in the midst of the pain, whatever the source, most of the writers have reached down into a place in themselves where their basic values lie. The pain is a great enemy, and great enemies cannot be fought with commonplace platitudes, or shrugged off as just another headache. When it threatens to force is into a fetal position in bed, bereft of any relief, then we must fight it with our core beliefs.
Those who succeed are those who have those values in the first place, no matter how far they may have strayed from them since they learned them. They are those who have already answered the question "To whom can I turn now?" And the answer is that we turn to someone beyond the pain, someone who has mastered it and who understands it.
We turn to God, or Allah, or a higher power, the life force, the universe, the One, or, in Otto's wonderful phrase, the "Other." It matters not what we call that force, that power, that One in whom we move and have our being. What matters is that we HAVE the Other to whom we turn.
And in that turning, it seems clear to me, we do two important things.
First, we realize that the answers are not to be found in consulting ourselves. We are out of answers. If we were not, we would not make that turn. We do not do it casually. We do it because there is no where else to turn.
Second, we realize that we cannot create our own future. Like Sarah, we are now barren, beaten down, our dreams shattered. And we cannot even imagine a future for ourselves worth living. Without answers we do a wondrous thing: we admit our powerlessness. We surrender.
And, ironically, it is in the surrender that we find strength and peace. In the surrender we find the One who cares, the One who offers love and hope where we before had none.
I do not know why that works. But I know that it does. I also know that when we finally crawl out from the darkness we have pulled over our heads we may quickly forget how we got out. We may even think that "we did it ourselves."
We are vain creatures, we humans, and love to take credit for our own lives. Like Abraham and Sarah we are quick to prove that we are really in control and we forget the Promise, forget who got us out of the darkness, who gave us those values that allowed us to survive our toughest tests.
The wonder of it all is that the One will be there for us over and over as we stumble our way through life. The One will never say, "Well, I helped you before and you gave me no credit, so the next time you are on your own."
No. The One will say, "You are my beloved, my child, the love of my being, and I will always be with you, ready to hold you to my breast and stroke your hair, to let you know in your darkest nights that nothing you do can separate you from my love for you."
There is pain all around us. The imperfect world bears in on us and brings us troubles we believe are beyond the bearing. But as I watch and read and pray for you I see brighter days ahead for those who look beyond yourselves for the answers that we do not have within us.
St. Augustine wrote:
"Great art thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is thy power, and infinite is thy wisdom." And man desires to praise thee, for he is a part of thy creation; he bears his mortality about with him and carries the evidence of his sin and the proof that thou dost resist the proud. Still he desires to praise thee, this man who is only a small part of thy creation. Thou hast prompted him, that he should delight to praise thee, for thou hast made us for thyself and restless is our heart until it comes to rest in thee."
Monte
Related posts in this series on Resurrection Faith may be found in the column to the left of this page under The Christian Calendar Series. This essay originally appeared here in May, 2009 and has been edited for 2010.
When we complete this look at Luke's account we will have studied is some detail all three of the accounts of the resurrection appearances in the synoptic Gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke. Synoptic means that they can be "viewed together." This is because both Matthew and Luke use Mark's earlier written Gospel as the foundation of their Gospels.
Like Matthew, Luke relies partly on Mark's account, but not as much as does Matthew. While Matthew basically expanded upon Mark's resurrection story, Luke shortens some of Mark's details, probably to make room for more of his own. Luke has stories that appear only in his Gospel and stories that appear in his Gospel and in Matthew's, but not in Mark..
Luke includes the story of the empty tomb, but modifies it substantially. He also adds an appearance by Jesus to the assembled disciples, along with some very tangible testimony that Jesus is indeed alive. But, unlike Matthew, he includes no appearance to the women near the tomb. Like Matthew, Luke includes a commissioning of the disciples for mission, but not so specific a one as in Matthew; and he completes his story with the ascension of Jesus into heaven, something we find only in Luke.
We also find, only in Luke, an enchanting and theologically significant encounter between the Lord and two dejected disciples on the road to Emmaus. This beautiful little novella is full of insight and heavily freighted with meaning, adding a dimension to the meaning of the "breaking of the bread" that has profound implications for the meaning of the Eucharist (Holy Communion).
Luke also does something else that is unique to his Gospel. All of the appearances, and even the Ascension, take place in and around Jerusalem, and nothing happens in Galilee. For Luke, Galilee was where Jesus began His work, but Jerusalem is where he finished it.
Since for Luke everything significant in the story of Jesus centers in Jerusalem, it is not surprising that, in the end, we find the disciples together, in Jerusalem, praying in the Temple continually and awaiting the coming of the Holy Spirit whom Jesus has promised to send to them.
One final note on what you are going to read from now on. Luke is the most Christocentric (centered on Jesus) and theologically demanding of the three synoptic Gospels. Therefore there will be more discussion about how Luke's Gospel speaks to Christians. I will be talking about what Christians need to know and do once they understand what Luke is saying. In sum, I will be speaking more as a Christian theologian in this essay.
With that background, let's look at Luke's account in a little more detail. Like the others, Luke begins at the empty tomb. Christian hope always begins at the empty tomb. Not that it "proves" anything of and by itself. After all, Matthew sought mightily to prove that there was no hoax and that the body was not stolen.
But the empty tomb was what the first witnesses saw. And what they saw they would later realize was the result of the resurrection. They saw that the tomb was empty, and they did not know why. The angels told them why, and Christian hope began right there, at the empty tomb; began as a simple hope that said, "Could it be true? O God, let it be true!"
And so, in Luke we see the women hurrying to the tomb on the third day, a larger group of women than reported in Mark and Matthew, but with the same principal woman, Mary Magdalene. And it is here, at the very beginning of Luke's account, that we see that the details among the Gospels continue to differ.
Luke says that the stone was already rolled away and that they actually go into the tomb, but do not find the body. It is only then, after they make this discovery for themselves, that the angels - yes, two angels, not one - appear and explain to them what happened.
And their explanation is different as well. The angels ask the women why they are looking for the living among the dead, and then state bluntly, "He is not here, He is risen." Then, rather than telling them to tell the disciples to go to Galilee as do the other Gospels, the angels say that they are to remember what Jesus told them while in Galilee: That he was to be handed over, be crucified, and on the third day to rise again.
Although they were terrified, this instruction to "remember" is followed, and they do remember. And, while unstated in the text, it is in the remembering of Jesus' promise that they gain self control and return to tell the disciples, and "all the rest."
Luke reports a larger group of followers; followers who are gathered, not scattered, after the crucifixion. These are followers who have remained in Jerusalem, and who will remain in Jerusalem throughout the initial post-resurrection period, well beyond the Ascension. This is markedly different than in either Mark or Matthew.
Also of interest is that the gathered followers did not believe the women. They thought the women's testimony to be "an idle tale." But Peter must have heard some truth in their witness, for Luke tells us that Peter, alone, ran back to the tomb, stooped and looked in, seeing only the clothes.
It does not lead Peter to immediate faith, but it does lead him to amazement. Later we hear that the Lord appeared personally to Peter; no doubt dispelling any doubt he had; and still later we have to assume that Peter was once again with the large assembled group to which the Lord appeared, but only after Christ appeared to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Thus Peter likely saw the Risen Lord on at least two separate occasions.
Think about Peter for a moment. He goes from faithful disciple to denial, to guilt and sorrow, to doubt, to hope, to believing witness, all in a matter of days. His faith journey is a microcosm of that of many of us.
Luke then moves from the empty tomb to the story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Most of you already know this story. It is one of the most beloved Christian Bible stories.
You will notice first that the two dejected disciples do not recognize Jesus right away. We are often like that. Jesus comes to us in many guises, but we do not often recognize him. We don't expect him and so we don't see him. I encourage Christians to open your eyes to the possibility that he is actually among you in your daily lives.
Second, Jesus tells them that they are foolish; not because they grieve his loss, or because they are slow to believe that he is risen, for they have little evidence of that at this point in the story. But he says that they are foolish for not believing what the prophets have already declared. In other words there was already all the information they needed in the Bible to understand Jesus' fate, had they only chosen to believe it.
Later, after Jesus removed himself from their midst, the Emmaus disciples realized the importance of what he had done in revealing the Scriptures to them. They said to one another, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us."
Do we Christians burn with passion when we hear the Scriptures revealed? Or do we need signs and wonders? Perhaps we would do better by getting back to basics and learning what has lain in front of us for thousands of years: the word of God, his promises to us as laid out in the Bible. That issue is implicit in what Jesus says to these two dejected disciples. If a Christian would quench his or her thirst for faith, then each must spend time at the well. Yet most of us don't bother; and then we wonder why our faith fails us in times of trial.
So, what exactly did Jesus do with these two of small faith? He took them back to the basics, back to the source of truth. Listen: "Then, beginning with Moses and the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures." So too with Christians today. We need to hear the truth about Christ in the Scriptures if we have any hope of really understanding God's message to us.
Luke tells us that the identity of Jesus was finally realized by them in the breaking of the bread. "When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him."
While this scene is not as dramatic as the Last Supper in the Upper Room, it clearly has deep Eucharistic overtones and speaks directly to what can happen to Christians when we take Holy Communion together.
What Luke does with this story is to build a bridge between the command to "remember" Jesus in the bread and the wine of the Last Supper, and the possibility for us to "see" the Risen Christ in the breaking of the bread.
In other words, when Christians participate with open hearts in Holy Communion we have the opportunity to witness the Risen Christ in our midst; to be witnesses to him as the Son of the Living God without our having been one of the original witnesses to his appearances.
After Jesus leaves them, they return in excitement to Jerusalem and tell the others their extraordinary story, only to learn that the Lord had also appeared to Peter. And this beautiful little novella of faith ends on the note: "Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread."
As the larger group is discussing these things, Jesus appears among them, saying "Peace be with you." Not surprisingly, they are startled and terrified, thinking he is a ghost. He asks them bluntly why are they frightened and why are they doubting! And then, with compassion on their doubting hearts, he tells them to look at his wounds, and even to touch him. And he reminds them that it is he himself and not a ghost.
Their reaction is one of joy and yet still of doubt; of disbelief and yet of wonder. Jesus recognizes their befuddlement and does yet another remarkable thing: He asks for something to eat! They give him a piece of fish and he eats it while they watch.
All of this detail is only in Luke's Gospel. These things are intended as Luke's testimony to both the witness of those original followers and to us, that Jesus was real, alive and resurrected. Apparently it worked for those original followers, because he now has their attention. And, as with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, Jesus goes back to the basics, reminding them of what he told them before he died: that the Biblical prophecies about him had to be fulfilled.
Then, like on the road to Emmaus, He "opened their minds" and taught them, saying: "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning in Jerusalem."
And then he gave them the commission to do exactly that, telling them that they are witnesses to these things. In other words, their job is to testify to the truth that he is the Messiah, and to preach repentance and the forgiveness of sins. The mandate here in Luke is slightly different than the Great Commission in Matthew. Yet it covers much of the same ground. The point of both scenes is that Jesus appears to His followers and gives them a purpose, commissioning them to proclaim the Good News to the world!
He then instructs them to remain in Jerusalem and await the anointing of the Holy Spirit which He will send to them. Then, having completed His instructions to them, He leads them out to Bethany and blesses them. And, while He is blessing them, He is ascends into heaven. Luke is the only Gospel writer to describe the Ascension.
And so we complete our look at the resurrection appearances in Mark, Matthew and Luke. While there are details that are different, there are more important similarities.
In all of the narratives someone is present who is described in very personal language as the Risen Christ, and that person is clearly the same Jesus of Nazareth who died on the Cross.
Further, that person is never described as a vision or as a dream, as something happening internal to the witness. Rather, the Risen Christ is always described as a being external to the witness; as an objective external reality, never as a subjective internal feeling.
In some cases the Risen Christ is not immediately identifiable to the witnesses. The Risen Christ is more than merely human, and clearly has powers far beyond those of mere mortals. Yet, the Risen Christ is always correctly identified as Jesus; is called "Lord;" and is worshiped.
And finally, the Risen Christ always issues a commission to discipleship and mission. And that mission is always universal in scope and clear in mission: to call people to faith.
The abuse of the commission to call people to faith in his name has caused much trouble through the centuries, when zealots have used that call to bludgeon those who did not answer that call. Christianity has much to account for and to ask forgiveness for, when the name of Christ has been used as an excuse for evil.
But there is nothing in the words of Christ or in the Bible describing a Christ that tells his followers to use his name to commit evil upon others. That his name has been used as an excuse for inflicting pain and death on others cannot and should not be denied. But that Jesus always spoke first of peace, brotherhood, hope, love, charity and sacrifice as the correct call for his disciples cannot be denied either.
Nor should we deny that throughout history there have been Christians who have spoken the truth to those who have abused Christ's name and his commandments, both within and without the Church. Many of those good Christians paid the highest price for that speaking of the truth to assembled Christian power.
And those of us who believe that Christ abhors the abuse of his name and speak out against such abuse now and in the future may well have to pay for speaking out. But the Gospel flame will forever burn in the hearts of those who know that Jesus intended his followers to witness to his love.
For, most of all, in all of the Gospels the Risen Lord always offers a promise of hope and love to others far removed from the original disciples and witnesses. That is the very essence of the witness that his followers are to share with others, even to the ends of the earth and to the end of the age.
May God bless you all.
Monte
Original post: 1145 page views 2010 01 18
I am a Christian theologian. A form of this essay was first published in April, 2009. It is part of my Christian Calendar Series; and I have redacted it substantially for 2010.
This series of five essays focuses on one of the key elements of Christianity: the Resurrection of Jesus, the Christ.
These essays are not short. Understanding faith is not a series of sound bites. I write them so that my readers can use them as an aid in their own spiritual reflection. Each person must make his or her own decisions about the meaning of faith, including Christianity. Hopefully, by reading these essays the fundamental claim of Christianity, the Resurrection, can be better understood.
In this essay we will explore three things.
First, the importance to a Christian of belief that the Resurrection is true.
Second, conclusions which I have come to after years of study of the Resurrection.
And, third, the importance of the appearances of the Risen Lord after his Resurrection.
As an event occurring at the cusp of time, space and eternity the Resurrection falls within a group of events that the Church calls an "eschatological event;" meaning that it is an event signaling the "last days."
We are living in a period between the beginning of the last days, signified by the coming of God in Christ, and the culmination of the last days at the second coming of Christ.
We live in what is known in the Church as the "in-between" time; the time of "already" - meaning the breaking in of the Kingdom of God with the coming of Jesus - and "not yet" - meaning the final triumph of the Kingdom of God when Christ comes again.
Just as Jesus left eternity and entered the time and space of creation at his conception, so too, after his Resurrection and the appearances he left time and space as we know it and returned to eternity.
That is the main reason we can't "prove" the Resurrection. It was an event that moved beyond history. Certain aspects surrounding the Resurrection have been made available to our consciousness by God, in particular the appearances of the Risen Lord. Those we will look at carefully.
But, by definition, the very act of Resurrection itself lies beyond human understanding. It simply does not fit what we know about how things work.
In my Easter Reflection I told you that there were three basic reasons why people for the first 1800 years or so of Christianity believed the truth of the Resurrection.
First, they believed it because the Bible said it was true. But, since the Enlightenment and the scientific revolution that position has been challenged constantly by those who think that we either have to prove the Bible scientifically or explain a lot of it away.
You already know that I believe that we cannot "prove" almost any important aspects of the Bible scientifically and that there is no reason to try to rationalize away key aspects of the faith.
Second, they believed it because witnesses that they trusted said that they saw the Risen Lord, after his crucifixion and burial. That is, they testified that the Risen Lord, the same Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified, appeared to them after he had died.
And, third, those same disciples and many others, even to this day, testified, and still testify, that the Risen Lord is alive and active in their own lives, even as I testify to the activity of Christ in my own life.
The Christians who make up the Church are living witnesses to the truth of the Resurrection. As the body of Christ, Christians within the Church witness today to the truth of the living Christ working in our daily lives.
In fact, it is our witness that keeps Christianity alive, and provides the hope for generations of Christians as yet unborn. Without the witness of his body, the Church, Resurrection faith would die within a few generations.
It is these eye witness accounts recorded in the Bible that most clearly explain the basis of the faith of the original Christian communities.
It is the trust that the communities of faith placed in these witnesses that allows us to believe the stories of these eye witnesses. In other words, for example, when the Gospel writers write what they do about the appearances, I trust that they, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, are writing truth, not lies or fabrications.
And, likewise, when Paul tells me that the Risen Lord appeared to Him on the road to Damascus, and when Luke, in Acts, confirms that event, I trust both Paul and Luke to tell me the truth, and not to lie about it.
And that trust is part of another trust: that the Bible is the inspired witness to the Word of God, Jesus Christ. In other words, Christians believe that the Bible is the primary revelation of God in Jesus Christ.
The revelation of God in Christ in the Bible is the normative revelation of God to Christians. Upon its words Christians make decisions about the nature of God and of God's relationship to us.
When Christians believe that the Bible offers such a revelation of God to us, then Christians not only trust what the witnesses to the Risen Christ say, but also trust that what they said is truthfully recorded by the biblical writers.
Rushing through complicated theological issues will likely result in little light, so we will instead walk, not run, together in this series through an overview of the appearances of the Risen Lord, and see if we can discern some fundamental aspects of these appearances. I will publish only one of the following four essays each week to give you time to read and contemplate each essay.
God bless you all.
Monte
Overview:
In Part One I introduced this series on The Death of the Messiah. I pointed out that, while we may think there is only one story of the death of the Messiah, repeated four times, in fact there are four different renditions of the story of Jesus' death, both in the details and in the portrait of Jesus presented. I also said that there is also a fifth rendition: the one that we create from the other four.
I explained that I believe that these Gospel stories were divinely inspired and God was therefore both mindful of the inconsistencies in the stories, and intentional in his/her inspiration, in that God wants us to be able to see Jesus' death from four unique vantage points.
Therefore, we do not improve on the Gospel accounts by trying to harmonize them, regardless how tempting it is to try to do so. Ultimately, all attempts at harmonizing the Gospels fail and never give a true picture of what God is saying to us in those sacred texts.
This fact, however, gives ulcers to many who believe that the stories of Jesus must all be clear, concise, neat and without factual disagreement.
Part of the problem for such people is that they insist on viewing the Gospels as history, which they are not. They are theology told in narratives, stories, and are kerygma, proclamation of the Good News of Jesus the Christ.
In Part Two, using two major examples of the differences in three of the Gospel accounts of the Death of the Messiah, we explored my contention that it is good to have four differing Gospel accounts.
Having four different depictions of both the narratives of the stories and then seeing how Jesus reacts to essentially the same events allows us to see that Jesus is a far more complex character than the portrait we often hold of him.
In Part Three we looked in some detail at Mark's Gospel portrayal of Jesus and of the events leading up to his Crucifixion.
Mark, the earliest Gospel written, portrays a very human, very vulnerable Jesus. His portrayal of Jesus, the disciples, and all of the actors in this drama of death, shows people in all of their human frailty, in their evil plotting and their despicable actions. In the end, Mark shows that we all, even Jesus, have no choice but to depend on God.
Today, with Part Four, we finish this series of Lenten Reflections looking at the very different portrayal of Jesus and the events leading to his crucifixion in the Gospel according to Luke.
Luke wants us to see a Jesus who is at once aware of his approaching death, but also who clearly worries about others far more than he worries about his own fate. Luke's Jesus is "Caring, Compassionate and Concerned" about others.
Just as we have not looked at Matthew because its basic portrayal of Jesus is similar to Mark's, so too we will not look at John because it is so very different than the three "synoptic" Gospel accounts (Mark, Luke and Matthew), that it would take a whole new series to explain it.
Thus, as we now come to the end of this series, we have learned that each of the four Gospel accounts paint a part of Jesus that appeals to different people, and even to the same person at different stages in his or her life.
The genius of the Gospel accounts of the Death of the Messiah is not that they agree in the details but rather in that they give four different, yet surprisingly clear, portraits of the Messiah that help to broaden our understanding of him.
Luke clearly relies heavily on Mark, but many of the details are different. While Luke shares another common written source with Matthew, called simply "Q," Luke also clearly has his own sources of information which have been handed down by eyewitnesses and others over the decades since the crucifixion. These sources were unknown to Mark.
Molding at least three sources into a coherent Gospel is clearly a task of great importance to Luke. He tells us in the opening of his Gospel that he desires to "write an orderly account" of the events of Jesus' life, that we might know the truth concerning the good news of Jesus Christ. Luke makes it clear right at the beginning that he is writing theology, not history.
And it is clear when reading Luke and comparing his account of the Death of the Messiah with the other gospels that Luke has a different theological agenda than any of the other three.
Luke wants us to see a Christ who is at once aware of his approaching death, but also a Christ who clearly worries about others far more than he worries about his own fate.
In order to really understand Luke's portrait of Jesus' death it is necessary for us to remember that Luke is a consistent writer. He wrote not only his Gospel account of Jesus but also the only deliberate account of the very early church, which we know as the Book of the Acts of the Apostles. The Book of Acts flows seamlessly from the final scenes of the Resurrection at the end of his Gospel.
Thus, in Luke, the Jesus who is accused by the Jewish leaders of "perverting our nation" is the same Jesus whose infancy and upbringing was in total fidelity to the Law of Moses. The Jesus who is accused of "forbidding us to give tribute to Caesar" is the Jesus who has declared the opposite, to "render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's".
These, and other incidents in his life prior to his arrest, highlight a major theme in Luke's description of the Passion: that Jesus is totally misunderstood by all authorities, is innocent and is unjustly accused and killed.
Likewise, the Jesus who shows such great concern and compassion for others during his Passion is the same Jesus who is already compassionate; showing concern for the widow of Nain and praising in parables the mercy shown by the father to the prodigal son and to the man beset by thieves on the way to Jericho, in the story we call the "Good Samaritan."
Thus, we should not be surprised by the Jesus who shows forgiveness toward those who crucified him.
When we are told by Luke that, after the Temptation, Satan leaves Jesus, "until an opportune time," we should not be surprised that Luke writes that Satan returns to inhabit Judas, his betrayer at the end of Jesus' life.
In Luke it is much more than personal greed and sin that motivates Judas, it is the work of the Devil himself. Luke is so clear about this that one could argue that Judas was innocent of any sin, because, literally, "the devil made him do it."
Unlike Mark, who emphasizes the dullness and failures of the disciples, Luke finds them attentive and trying to learn, if stumbling from time to time. Luke, for example, never mentions that the disciples fled at the time of trial. In fact, while not at the cross itself, Luke places them, with the women, waiting and watching in the distance.
Nor will they flee after his death and head for home in Galilee as in the other Gospels, but they will await his return in Jerusalem, where Jesus will appear as the Risen Christ. And later, apostles who are derided in Mark and Matthew will appear as major Christian leaders in the Book of Acts.
Even the way Jesus behaves during his passion will set the example for how others will behave in the future, as first Stephen, and later Paul, endure the same cast of adversaries and will respond in the same way when their time comes to bear their crosses. Luke clearly shows this in the Book of Acts.
Therefore, there is a smooth consistency in doing the will of God throughout Jesus' life, death and resurrection, and, ultimately, even by the early Church after Jesus has ascended to God. This consistency in showing the achieving of God's purposes, first through Jesus and then through the Church, is a major theme in Luke's work.
In fact, just the opposite, for at the Last Supper Jesus has already told them, "You are those who continued with me in my trials." And Jesus has already assured them of a leadership place in Heaven, including responsibilities for judgment of the twelve tribes of Israel.
Therefore, we can not imagine that the disciples will fall away at this late date; and they do not. Even at Gesthemene he does not separate Himself far from them, going only "a stone's throw away" to pray.
Luke describes them as sleeping while Jesus prays, but not falling asleep three times after being admonished to stay awake. Rather they sleep but once, and then only "out of sorrow."
And, when Jesus finds them sleeping he does not harshly rebuke them but shows his concern for them, telling them to get up and pray that they may not come into their own time of trial.
Thus, the drama of the scene focuses not on disloyal or cowardly disciples but on the actions of Jesus, which are caring and compassionate, and thus quite different than those described in Mark.
Unlike in Mark, this Jesus is not one whose soul is sorrowful unto death. Rather, on his knees he prays in subordination to the will of the Father. And, in Luke, that prayer does not go unanswered, for the Father sends an angel to give him strength.
This brings what has been translated into English as "agony" or "anguish" and great drops of sweat like blood fall from him. But for centuries Christians have greatly misinterpreted this dramatic scene because of poorly translating the Greek word, "agonia."
It means the great preparatory tension of an athlete warming up for a great contest. It does not mean fear or pain, as it is often misinterpreted. The angel has given him strength, not weakness.
And, at the arrest, Jesus is very calm; a calmness that bespeaks a foreknowledge on the part of Jesus of what is going to happen. He addresses Judas by name and is in no way surprised to find him here betraying him.
When the slave's ear is cut off by one of the disciples, Jesus, again showing compassion, heals him, and tells the disciples, "No more of this!" As he has shown compassion to his enemies throughout his ministry, so he shows compassion here.
Jesus knows exactly what is happening and, having been strengthened by the angel, is intent on carrying out what he knows to be the will of the Father.
The struggle is great but Jesus is up to the task. The Devil himself occupies Judas, and no underlings come alone to arrest him as in Mark, but rather the chief priests and elders themselves lead the Temple police.
Jesus knows the evil in this, telling them that this is "their" hour, a time of the power of darkness. Yet he also knows that he will overcome it.
As in Mark they arrest Jesus at night. But they take him not to the Chambers of the Sanhedrin but to the High Priest's house, or perhaps the courtyard of that house. (The Greek wording is ambiguous.)
In any case, Luke does not identify to which High Priest the house belonged. Nor is there any Sanhedrin trial that night as in Mark, but rather they hold him there, beating him and mocking him, but not asking him any significant questions.
For Luke the highlight of the evening focuses on Peter who has followed him and, as in Mark, denies him three times. Unlike Mark, however, Luke adds a poignant note: "The Lord turned and looked at Peter." Thus Jesus here makes eye contact with Peter, and it was then that Peter remembered Jesus' prediction and felt the shame of his betrayal.
This dramatic look is found only in Luke, and is symbolic of Jesus' continuing care for Peter, as he promised the disciples at the Last Supper. They may deny him but he will always be there for them.
When it is day they lead him to the Sanhedrin Council Chambers and question him. Unlike in Mark, Jesus answers ambiguously, but they read enough into his replies to decide to bring him before Pilate.
Unlike in Mark and Matthew, there is no formal Sanhedrin trial; it is simply an interrogation. There are no witnesses called, false or otherwise, and there are no condemnations issued by the Sanhedrin. All they say is that they have heard enough to take him to Pilate.
Here the Sanhedrin acts as prosecutor and inquisitor, not as judge. In Luke there is but one trial and that is before Pilate.
He is prepared to go to his death, if necessary, knowing that he has an unbreakable union with the Father.
Luke gives us many more details of the trial before Pilate than do Mark and Matthew. The chief priests and scribes make more numerous accusations against Jesus than in the other synoptic Gospels, including both religious and political claims.
And, as Luke describes in Acts, Paul will later encounter an almost identical sequence of actors, issues and events in his trials. Thus, an important point is made in Luke: the tone for the bearing of later Christian crosses by faithful disciples is set by Jesus here.
Then, hearing that Jesus is a Galilean, he sends Jesus off to Herod, Tetrarch of Galilee, who is in town for the Passover. This sidebar is only present in Luke.
Herod, oddly, is glad to see Jesus because he has heard of him and wants to see some "sign" from him. Jesus does not oblige; and while the chief priests continue to accuse him before Herod, just as they had before Pilate, Herod finds, as did Pilate, nothing against Jesus.
But Herod is miffed at Jesus' silence, so he mocks Jesus by placing an elegant robe on him, and then returns him to Pilate.
Luke tells us that, ironically, from that day forward Pilate and Herod, heretofore enemies, became friends. Thus, even while under such great duress Jesus is seen to be able to influence the healing of relationships, simply by his presence, even between those who mistreat him.
Once again Pilate examines the charges against Jesus, and, once again, tells the Jewish leaders that neither he nor Herod find Jesus guilty of any of the charges. And Pilate boldly tells them that "Indeed, he has done nothing to deserve death." Pilate then proposes to have Jesus flogged and released.
All of the accusers, not just the crowd as in Mark, but the chief priests, other Jewish leaders and the people, shout to do away with Jesus and to release Barabbas.
Luke tells us that Pilate, wanting to release Jesus, addresses them a second and third time, telling them Jesus is not guilty. However, Luke then tells us that Pilate caves in to the accusers, and "their voices prevailed."
Because Luke contains no scene in Pilate's courtyard of Roman soldiers beating and mocking Jesus, the implication in Luke is that Pilate handed over Jesus to the Jewish leaders who take him to Calvary and crucify him.
Later, however, we hear that soldiers along with the leaders also mocked him while he was on the Cross. So, regardless who led Jesus to Golgatha, Roman soldiers were present at his death.
What is far more clear, and clearly different than Mark and Matthew, is that the people who followed Jesus to his crucifixion included a great many who were not hostile to him, particularly women, who were lamenting what was happening to him by beating their breasts and wailing over his fate.
To these Jesus shows great compassion, warning these "daughters of Jerusalem" of the coming trials, telling them not to weep for him, but for themselves.
[Note: This scene is likely influenced by Luke's anachronistic knowledge that Jerusalem was destroyed in the period 68-70 AD when the Romans quelled a Jewish rebellion. At that time many innocents, women and children, were killed, and many Christians fled the persecution in the city. Luke already knew of that event when wrote his Gospel.]
Regardless, Jesus remains calm and concerned for others. Unlike in Mark, the first words uttered by Jesus from the cross are not of his feared abandonment, but rather, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
There is a strong implication here that the Jewish leaders acted out of ignorance, not with deliberate evil and viciousness, as in the other New Testament traditions. Clearly, as Luke describes them, they were ignorant of who Jesus was and this shows how far Jesus is willing to go to find forgiveness of his enemies.
This is a far more humane treatment of the Jewish leaders than in the other Gospels, and is a clear directive to later Christians to be gracious toward, and forgiving of, our worst enemies; something that most find nearly impossible to imagine let alone to do.
In Acts, Stephen will find strength and hope in repeating Jesus' thoughts, praying as he died under their stones, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them."
And still later, thousands of Christian martyrs will go to their death finding courage in these words from the Cross.
This "good thief" as we often call him, asks to be remembered by Jesus when he comes into his kingdom. And, still filled with compassion, Jesus does him far better than that, promising him that he will be with Jesus in Paradise yet that day.
Many have said that, because of the compassion of Luke's Christ, the "good thief," who offered no confession of his sin nor made any profession of faith, literally stole the keys to the Kingdom. That old saw is not far from the truth.
In the last, dark, hours of Jesus life he does not lose confidence. He does not, as in Mark and Matthew, feel abandoned by the Father. Rather he is calm and at peace, secure in his knowledge of the goodness and justice of the Father.
There is no agony recorded, only the confident giving of his life over to the Father, even as he has given his life to others throughout his ministry. Jesus dies saying, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit."
Just as the words of forgiveness have given many a martyr courage in their own deaths, so to have these words of confident trust in God given hope not only to martyrs but also to many ordinary Christians at the time of their death.
And, if the innocence of Jesus has not been clear enough for all who read Luke, at the foot of the cross the Roman Centurion says not that Jesus was the Son of God, but that he was "innocent."
Even the crowds who watched share the feeling of Jesus' innocence , returning to their homes in great distress, beating their breasts.
It is not necessary for the Centurian to say the Jesus is the Son of God. By this point in Luke's Gospel we are well aware that Jesus is the Son of God.
Likewise, Luke clarifies the role of Joseph of Aramathea, saying that he had not agreed to the Sanhedrin's plans. Joseph takes the body and lays it in a fresh tomb. And Luke tells us that the women went home to prepare spices and ointments for his body.
After the Sabbath Luke tells us that they came to the tomb with their preparations, only to find the tomb empty. Later, Peter, who has not gone to ground in Galilee, but who has stayed in Jerusalem, will run to the empty tomb and be amazed by what he sees.
Still later, Luke tells us that the Risen Lord appeared to Peter, thus confirming the truth of Luke's message: Jesus will be with and watch over all of his disciples and followers, even those, who, like Peter, deny him in periods of weakness.
There should be much consolation in that fact for us Christians, because most of us falter in periods of weakness and doubt. But Christ is here for us and will watch over us. He will never abandon us regardless of the strength of our faith at any given moment.
And so ends this exploration of The Death of the Messiah. Throughout the world Christians now are in the midst of the Lenten Season.
It continues to be my hope that this brief series has been a help to those who want to understand the Christ and his Passion at a depth that they may not have known before.
I particularly hope that this series has put to rest some of the nonsense about harmonizing and homogenizing the Passion which is so appealing to many but which totally misses the point of having four different Gospels in the first place.
Just as "God don't make no junk," so too God did not send his Spirit to guide the writers of the four very different Gospel accounts of Jesus by accident. God did this so we may see the at least four different sides of the one we now call The Christ.
And finally, please remember that the Gospels do not pretend to be history books. Writing history as we know it today was not even a known practice at the time the Gospels were written. To apply today's historical research methods to the Gospels is at best a silly exercise.
Those who continue to search for the "Historical Jesus" will forever get their doctorates, their accolades, and sell their books to those who insist that one and only one portrait of Jesus must be "the right one."
But this is the same mind set that stunts our understanding of the four Gospel accounts by insisting on harmonizing the Gospels as if they were simply data sources for creating the "one" "real" story of Jesus.
But the Gospels cannot yield anything approaching an "true" history of Jesus simply because they were never written to be what we think of as history.
They were always theology, theology told in story, in narrative, form. They are now, and always have been, kerygma, proclamation, of the Gospel, the Good News, of Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God, the Christ. This theology forms the foundation of the Christian faith.
To my Christian readers I offer this hope: that the rest of your Lenten journey may be one of both discovery and peace, secure in your belief that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and our Redeemer and Lord.
Monte
1874 page views 2010 03 26
NOTE TO READERS: This Lenten essay was originally published on Open Salon, March 11, 2009. It is part of my Christian Calendar Series. I have edited it for 2010, clarifying certain points and improving the flow of the text.
Christian liturgy, ritual and most of Christian theology change little from year to year. The reason for the Christian Calendar is to encourage Christians to rehearse, ponder and reflect on, year after year, the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ, so that His life becomes part and parcel of our family history.
The story of Christ changes little, but we, His disciple, change and grow, become ill, or face death, our own or a loved one's, and in so doing we come each year to view the events of Christ and the traditions of His Church through different eyes.
Hopefully, what I write in this series will have a certain timelessness, updated slightly each year to improve clarity and thereby open more deeply our understanding of aspects of the events celebrated during the Christian Year.
This Lenten essay for 2010 lays out some basic parameters of orthodox Christian belief. What is written here are my own beliefs, which are widely shared by Christians in most mainline Protestant denominations and in the Roman and Orthodox Catholic denominations in the United States as being fundamental to Christian faith
In Part One I introduced this series on The Death of the Messiah. I pointed out that, while we may think there is only one story of the death of the Messiah, repeated four times, in fact there are four different renditions of the story of Jesus' death, both in the details and in the portrait of Jesus presented. I also said that there is also a fifth rendition: the one that we create from the other four, adding our own ideas of what happened during the Passion.
I pointed out that I believe that these Gospel stories were divinely inspired and that God was therefore, both mindful of the inconsistencies in the stories, and intentional in his/her inspiration, in that God wants us to be able to see Jesus' death from four unique vantage points.
We do not improve on the Gospel accounts by trying to harmonize them, regardless how tempting it is to try to do so. Ultimately, all attempts at harmonizing the Gospels fail and never give a true picture of what God is saying to us in those sacred texts.
This fact, however, gives ulcers to many who believe that the stories of Jesus must all be clear, concise, neat and without factual disagreement. Part of the problem for such people is that they insist on viewing the Gospels as history, which they are not. They are theology told in narratives, stories, and are kerygma, proclamation of the Good News of Jesus the Christ.
In Part Two we explored my contention that it is good to have four differing Gospel accounts. Having four different depictions of both the narratives of the stories and then seeing how Jesus reacts to essentially the same events allows us to see that Jesus is a far more complex character than the portrait we often hold of him.
And each of the four Gospel accounts paint a part of Jesus that appeals to different people, and even to the same person at different stages in his or her life.
We finished Part Two looking at a short but profound conclusion by Dr. Raymond Brown: "To choose one portrayal of the crucified Jesus in a manner that would exclude the other portrayals or to harmonize all the Gospel portrayals into one would deprive the cross of much of its meaning. It is important that some be able to see the head bowed in dejection, while others observe the arms outstretched in forgiveness, and still others perceive in the title on the cross the proclamation of a reigning king."
In this essay we are going to look at Mark's account of the Death of the Messiah in some detail. As we saw before, Mark, the earliest Gospel written, portrays a scene of stark human abandonment of Jesus.
And, of all the Gospels, Mark portrays a very human, very vulnerable Jesus. His portrayal of Jesus, the disciples, and all of the actors in this drama of death, shows people in all of their human frailty, in their evil plotting and their despicable actions. In the end, Mark shows that we all, even Jesus, have no choice but to depend on God.
In my opinion, Mark gives us deep insights into the hearts and minds of men and woman, and explores the depths of the human condition like no other Gospel.
So here we are now looking together at a very human and very vulnerable Jesus surrounded by disciples who are ordinary and, usually, not very bright disciples. One professor of mine called the disciples as portrayed in Mark, DUH-ciples.
Some may feel uncomfortable with the intellectually dense disciples portrayed in Mark, and even with the very vulnerable, very human Jesus who feels and acts much like we might in similar circumstances.
Mark's Jesus is very aware of what he must do, but he agonizes over it, and, at one point, begs God to let it pass him by. Mark's Jesus shows great courage in the face of personal fear and doubt and commits himself to God even knowing it will mean his death. In the end he is, in fact, abandoned by all who followed him, and Jesus even despairs that he has been abandoned by God.
Of course, the narrative tells us later that he was not permanently abandoned by God; but Mark gives absolutely no indication that Jesus knew that. Still, he remained faithful to God even to his last breath.
Jesus himself predicts His own violent death three times, long before the actual event. Yet the disciples did not understand, failed to understand, refused to understand, and did not want to understand.
Then Jesus arrives in Jerusalem intent on purifying the Temple, and it all comes to a head as the priests and scribes plot to destroy him, exactly as the Pharisees and Herodians had been doing from the beginning.
There are other hints. A woman admirer anoints His body with oil, a sign of preparing him for His death. Judas plots to betray him, and Jesus, aware of the plot, at the Last Supper indicates His willingness to pour out his blood as a sign of the New Covenant that God is offering to the people.
Thus, as he leaves the Upper Room and goes to pray on the Mount of Olives, Jesus understands the necessity of his suffering and death. But the disciples do not understand and he knows it, just as he knows that they will all abandon him, telling them that they all will be scattered.
They deny any such possibility, especially Peter. But Jesus tells Peter he will be particularly unfaithful and will deny Jesus three times. On this gloomy note the Passion in Mark begins, and it will only get darker, until, on the following day, Jesus will die with no support at all from those who followed him. He will die alone.
This tragic scenario is almost too much even for Jesus. In Gethsemene Jesus confesses to the disciples, "My soul is very sorrowful, even unto death," and he asks them to stay near him while he goes to pray, admonishing them to stay awake.
Then, he goes and prays, asking God that the cup of death might pass him by; yet saying that he will do the will of the Father regardless. There is no response from God, but Jesus accepts the will of God implied by the silence from heaven, and prepares to meet his enemies, knowing he will die.
He is resigned to his fate, even as he is disturbed that the disciples can not even stay awake while he is in this agony. They are physically present, but already have symbolically abandoned him while they sleep.
One, a young man, once intent on following him, flees so quickly and in such fear that he leaves his captors clinging to his clothes, running away naked, saving his skin, symbolic of the total abandonment of Jesus by all who intended to follow him.
Jesus will face death, the ultimate evil, alone. That is the clear message of Mark.
The pace now quickens and Mark takes us immediately to the trial by the Sanhedrin, the governing Jewish body in Jerusalem. What goes on in the trial is juxtaposed sharply against what is happening in the courtyard outside the trial chamber.
In the chamber the chief priests, elders and scribes hear testimony against Jesus, which Mark calls "false" testimony, testimony which does not agree on any factual details. We are not told the nature of the false testimony. But the high priest is annoyed by both the ineptitude of the witnesses and the silence of Jesus.
Trying to force an answer from Jesus he asks, "Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One." And, startlingly, Jesus answers for the first time in this Gospel, "I am." Until now Jesus had made no such claim, although we who have read Mark already know it from what God had said to him at his baptism and to the three disciples at the Transfiguration.
But far more damning to Jesus is that he does not stop there but says that he, the Son of Man, will be seated at God's right hand and will come again on the clouds of heaven. This is too much for the high priest, who declares that statement blasphemy, whereupon all of the members of the Sanhedrin condemn him as deserving of death.
Some then spit on him and blindfold him, beating him and screaming at him to prophesy. All of which is ironic for that is precisely what he has just done, and none of them believed it!
Thus, the themes which have already emerged earlier in the Gospel here coalesce: destroying the Temple, acknowledging Jesus as Messiah and Son of God. Yet, in Mark, still, nobody believes it.
As predicted by Jesus, Peter denies him not once, but three times, finally swearing an oath that he does not even know Jesus. When the cock crows, Peter realizes his sin, and weeps.
The irony is complete: Jesus is beaten and ordered to prophesy which he has already done but none believed him, and, meanwhile, other of his prophesies are coming true in the court yard.
Rather than kill Jesus themselves by stoning, which was allowed under Jewish law, the Sanhedrin instead bind him and hand him over to Pilate, the Roman Governor. Mark gives us no indication why.
But the effect is dramatic and interesting, if usually unnoticed. Up to now the condemnations against Jesus have been theological: "Are you the Messiah, the Son of God?" "Do you intend to destroy the Temple?" These are religious questions.
Pilate knows about and cares nothing about such questions. His concerns are strictly political, reflecting the concern of the Roman occupying force for stability in this conquered land: "Are you the King of the Jews?"
Now, neither Jesus nor anyone else has ever before made such a claim. Jesus refuses to take the bait, answering only "You say so;" which really isn't an answer because Pilate has actually not said that he thought that to be true. Pilate pushes him to say something, to answer the many charges the Jewish leaders have brought against him. But Jesus says nothing.
At this point there is no indication that the Sanhedrin has convinced Pilate to do anything with Jesus; but it is here that the crowd comes into play. It was the custom to release one prisoner to the crowd at Passover and Pilate asked did they wish to have the "King of the Jews," Jesus, released, or Barabbas, a rebel, part of an insurrection against Roman rule. The crowd demanded Barabbas.
Pilate, wishing perhaps to remove the decision from himself, asks them what to do with Jesus and they all shout "Crucify him!" And Pilate, apparently surprised at the harshness of their verdict says, "Why? What evil has he done?" They gave no answer; shouting again, "Crucify him?"
Mark tells us nothing of Pilate's thoughts but only that, to satisfy the crowd, he released Jesus to be flogged and then crucified.
First the disciple, Judas, betrays him, then the disciples all run away; Peter denies him; witnesses accuse him falsely; the high priest condemns him, as does the whole Sanhedrin to a man; the crowd turns against him, Pilate sentences him to flogging and crucifixion; the soldiers beat him, mock him, spit on him (as had the Sanhedrin) and lead him to his death.
Thus, both trials end in betrayal and mockery. And all: disciple, Jewish leaders, crowd, Roman Governor, and Roman soldiers share in the shame and guilt of desertion, betrayal, accusation, and condemnation of the Son of God. Mark wants to drive that point home and does so with dramatic clarity.
The soldiers enlist Simon of Cyrene to carry the cross, implying that the beating had made it impossible for Jesus to carry it himself. On reaching Golgotha they offer him a bitter drink, which he refuses, and then they crucify him.
Mark, who often aligns things in threes, divides the time on the cross into three periods. They crucify him at 9 in the morning, darkness overcomes the land at noon, and at 3 in the afternoon Jesus dies.
The title, "King of the Jews" is mockingly nailed to the Cross; but Mark does not see it as an ironic symbol, but rather calls it "a charge against him." For the first three hours no human being shows Jesus the slightest sympathy, not the soldiers, nor the crowd, nor the passers-by, nor the chief priests and scribes who came to watch the spectacle.
All mocked him, telling him to save himself and come down from the cross, if he be the Messiah. Even the two bandits crucified with him taunted him. Not one of his disciples came to the cross to be with him in his last hours.
Even nature itself seemed to abandon him, as the sun was overcome and darkness fell over the whole of the land for the next three hours. And in the darkness Jesus hung there alone, abandoned by all who ever claimed to love him.
And finally, mercifully, it is over, as, at 3 o'clock, Jesus cries out with a loud voice the only words Mark reports: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" These words are not new to Jesus. They are the opening words to Psalm 22.
Shortly thereafter Jesus lets out a loud cry, not of words, just of agony, and dies. Jesus dies, alone, abandoned by his friends, seemingly abandoned by God. Mark is quite clear that Jesus thought God had forsaken him.
This made the other Gospel writers very nervous, even as it might make some of us nervous even now. And so they changed the final scene considerably from what Mark reports.
Our job now is to hear these words as written by Mark, and to ponder them; not to try to rewrite the Bible or to try to justify them, saying that he didn't mean them or coming up with some other nonsense to correct Mark. Our job is to try to understand the depths of despair that Jesus felt; this very brave, very faithful, very human Jesus we see here hanging on that tree.
God's reply to Jesus' death is immediate, abrupt: the moment Jesus dies the curtain of the temple is split in two, from top to bottom, a violent rending, symbolic of Jesus' claim that he would tear down this Temple "made with hands."
This huge, dense curtain was actually a mammoth drapery, over a foot thick, and was to keep everyone except the High Priest from going into the inner sanctum said to be where God dwelt.
Here Mark, not with words, but with the mental picture of the Temple Curtain, had created a significant theological picture. Rending that Curtain in two symbolizes that no more will access to God be restricted to a chosen few allowed to enter the "Holy of Holies."
From that time forward people will come to a new temple, one "not made with hands," but rather one build upon the sacrifice of Jesus. Jesus is the new Temple, built to receive those who show faith in the One who died to save us from ourselves, and from the sin within us.
Startlingly, an outsider comes immediately into the picture of the Crucifixion, not a disciple, not even a Jew, in no way an "insider," but a Gentile, a Roman centurion, who stands at the foot of the cross and says what no man, disciple or priest, had ever before figured out in the entire telling of Mark's Gospel: "Truly, this man was the Son of God."
In a single moment God has vindicated Jesus; replacing the Temple as the center of worship and offering in its place Gods' own Son, who will be confessed as Lord.
And, as irony piles on irony, we are told that while the disciples, who were all men, fled in cowardly retreat, standing in the distance are three women, Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James and Joses, and Salome; three who had followed him in Galilee and had provided for him when he was going about his ministry.
Unlike the core group of male disciples, these three female disciples, and some other women, while not coming to the Cross to share his agony with Jesus, at least looked on, waited and watched. They did not flee and totally abandon him as did the others.
And there was one other, Joseph of Arimathea, who showed some courage, which only Mark sees that way. Indeed, it must have been courage and perhaps some remorse, because Mark has told us that all of the Sanhedrin, of which Joseph was a member, had found Jesus deserving of death.
But Mark tells us now that Joseph went "boldly" to Pilate to ask for Jesus' body. Only in Mark does Pilate question whether Jesus is really dead; and, assured by the centurion that he is dead, he granted the body to Joseph for burial.
Joseph took the body down, wrapped it in linen, and laid it in a rock hewn tomb. Then he rolled a stone in front of the tomb entrance. Preparing us for the resurrection, Mark tells us that the two Marys followed and saw where the body was laid.
Mark, more than any of the other Gospel writers, emphasizes the importance of the Passion. The Roman centurion's words dramatize the very Marcan idea that people cannot truly know who Jesus is until the death of the Messiah. As reported by Mark, People may think they know; and they can guess, but, until the death of Jesus, no one really knows who he is.
Mark clearly implies that one can become a true disciple, a faithful and brave disciple, only through understanding the suffering symbolized by a Cross which strips away all human support systems and makes one totally dependent upon God. To Mark, keeping the faith means our recognition of our total dependence on God.
For Mark salvation comes not from "coming down from the cross" as Jesus was taunted to do; but from acceptance of the cross and all that entails.
Mark's community was one suffering from great persecution. As Dr. Brown says, "the gospel or 'Good News' for them was that this trial and suffering was not a defeat but a salvific example of taking up the cross and following Jesus."
While we may not know such suffering ourselves, we do not have to look far to find millions who do suffer from the burdens of their own unjust crosses. Doing something about that can be a way we can begin to know what it means to others who, though innocent, to this day bear crosses not of their own making.
Deitrich Bonhoeffer said that Jesus calls us to "come die with me." Bonhoerffer never wished to die, but was willing to reenter Nazi Germany to carry on the work of Christ knowing that he was marked for death if caught. And he was. The Nazis executed him three days before the Allies captured the prison camp where he was confined.
We are far removed from such drastic decisions in our every day lives. But there are many who do die without help or hope because otherwise good men and women are unwilling to risk much of themselves to give to them either help or hope. And so the call remains. "Take up you cross and follow me" is still the word to Christians from the one we know as the Christ.
God bless you all.
Monte
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