Jesus shouldered his cross voluntarily

Having been condemned to die, the Roman soldiers would have used physical coercion to ensure that a reluctant prisoner carried his cross to the place of execution.

Jesus needed no such persuasion. In the Garden of Gethsemane he had contemplated the cross in its grim reality and in the weakness of his human nature, he had shrunk from it. Jesus shared that same fear of death that so often makes us unable to look it squarely in the face.

‘If it be possible let this cup pass from me.’

Jesus prayed to be released from the cross, but having wrestled with his own weakness, and with discerning the will of his Father, he shouldered it willingly, without complaint, held to his fate by the love which he bore for his Father and for you and me, fastened to the cross in the faith that God would be there in that darkness and would bring good out of his anguish.

As Christians we sometimes find ourselves shrinking from circumstances and situations that we face:

{     a debilitating or life threatening sickness

{     the untimely death of someone we love

{     a handicap that limits our freedom to do and be what we would like to do and be.

And it is with an air of weary resignation that people sometimes refer to these things as a cross which they must bear. A cross to be reluctantly shouldered.

I think the way in which Christ approached his cross has something to say to us, when we find ourselves in that kind of situation.

It is all right to pray for release. Suffering is not something which God delights to give to his children. Life is not some kind of ‘sufferathon’ with a prize for the one who suffers most. Suffering is an intruder, an unavoidable intruder into the harmony of life as God created it and intended it to be.

{     It is all right to acknowledge our weakness and inability to face some of the things that life throws at us.

{     It is all right to pray that this cup should pass from us.

But if having wrestled with our weakness, and having wrestled with God, we still face the inevitability of the path before us, we need to ‘take up’ our cross.

Not passively submitting to life's hardships, but positively summoning our limited resources and God's infinite resources, so that whatever our experience may be, it becomes creative for us and for those around us. Faith displayed amidst great difficulty can exert an amazing power on people of little or no faith. It is an amazing witness to the faithfulness of God and it has the power to soften the hardest human heart and encourage the faintest human spirit.

Sixth Station: Jesus scourged and crowned with thorns

They put a purple robe on Jesus, made a crown out of thorny branches, and put it on his head. Then they began to salute him: ‘Long live the King of the Jews!’ They beat him over the head with a stick, spat on him, fell on their knees, and bowed down to him. [GNB Mark 15.17-19]

In the Anglo-Saxon poem The Dream of the Rood, the poet has a vision of a glorious and bejewelled cross, presumably on the altar of a wealthy church. As the dream goes on, he sees through the gold and jewels to the blood-stained wood beneath, whereupon the cross itself begins to tell its own story.

It is much the same with the account of Jesus’ scourging. How is it that we have turned instruments of torture into works of art? A brief search of internet images will bring up elegant, neatly-woven and sometimes flowering crowns of thorn, so far from the reality of the passion of Christ as to be almost meaningless.

This is not to despise the place of art in the Christian tradition: the early church did not use art for its own sake but as a means to an end, as a window into heaven, a doorway to worship. As we spend at least part of this day today remembering and giving thanks for Jesus’ sacrificial death for us – it is after all Good Friday – it will be important for us to recall the cost of what Christ did. And as human beings, we understand best of all the cost of physical pain.

Consider for a moment your reaction to pain, however small that experience may have been. It’s likely to have been a reaction of anger and frustration, a sense of being cut off from the world and disabled from really living and being productive. Now consider Jesus’ reaction, exactly the same in human terms, coupled with a deep sense of abandonment by his heavenly Father.

And here, even as he was scourged and whipped and brutally scratched with thorns, he had to face the third and profoundest reality of all: that he was being cut off from the land of the living in order for his brothers and sisters, so scarred by sin, to find a life-giving, hopeful and eternal way of living in that land. ‘Father, I will pour myself out for them.’ It’s entirely beyond comprehension. But as I wish you a blessed and holy Good Friday, my prayer is that you will be filled with joy that the one who alone could do this for you did it. Because he died, we live.

Lord Jesus, you faced the torment of barbaric punishment and mocking tongue:

be with those who cry out in physical agony and emotional distress.

You endured unbearable abuse:

be with those who face torture and mockery in our world today.

To you, Jesus, the King crowned with thorns,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever.

Fourth Station: Peter denies Jesus

Just then a rooster crowed a second time, and Peter remembered how Jesus had said to him, ‘Before the rooster crows two times, you will say three times that you do not know me.’ And he broke down and cried. [GNB Mark 14.72]

One verse says so much. One moment of panic changed Peter’s life; one slip, which actually made no difference to Jesus’ journey towards Calvary, though it made it an even lonelier journey.

Imagine your sins being written into the narrative of God’s redeeming work with humanity. We could let our imaginations run riot over Peter’s thoughts now: a wry smile perhaps, or we hope that he’s so taken up with looking at the glory of God that all that’s past?

However, it’s better to look at our response to shame, our sense of letting ourselves down, which is where this episode left Peter. He’s the rock on which the church is to be built. Certainly in one major tradition of the scripture material, he’s the first apostle, but he’s a fractured vessel, a cracked pot, a blunt instrument for the work of God. In essence, he’s St Punctured Pride Peter. And so are we.

We spend quite a lot of our time thinking of ourselves as fundamentally OK folks, glad to be blessed by the grace of God. And then the momentary lapse which cannot be called back. The words are out in the public domain, and the relationship will never be the same again. At the point of our shame, we know ourselves as we actually are before God, naked, empty, lost, the shame of Adam and Eve is our shame.

Extraordinarily, this point, when Peter weeps, when we lament our lost innocence (an innocence we never had) is the point at which God really begins to do business with us. We discover grace: love that does not measure us by our actions; the gift of reconciliation though we don’t deserve it. And in our tears, as we watch Jesus watching us, we find a new and more honest way to live, the way of the redeemed sinner, ever indebted, ever grateful, never doubtful of God, because it does not depend any more on anyone’s opinion of our actions, not even ours.

Lord Jesus, as Peter betrayed you,

you experienced the double agony of love rejected and friendship denied:

be with those who know no friends and are rejected by society.

You understood the fear within Peter:

help us to understand the anxieties of those who fear for their future.

To you, Jesus, who gazed with sadness at your lost friend,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever.

Jesus is condemned by the Sanhedrin: The Third Station

Third Station: Jesus condemned by the Sanhedrin

⁵⁵ The chief priests and the whole Council tried to find some evidence against Jesus in order to put him to death, but they could not find any.⁵⁶ Many witnesses told lies against Jesus, but their stories did not agree.

 ⁵⁷ Then some men stood up and told this lie against Jesus:⁵⁸

We heard him say,
I will tear down this Temple which men have made, and after three days I will build one that is not made by men.⁵⁹ Not even they, however, could make their stories agree.

 ⁶⁰ The High Priest stood up in front of them all and questioned Jesus,

Have you no answer to the accusation they bring against you?

 ⁶¹ But Jesus kept quiet and would not say a word. Again the High Priest questioned him,

         Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed God?

 ⁶²
I am, answered Jesus,
 and you will all see the Son of Man seated at the right side of the Almighty and coming with the clouds of heaven!

 ⁶³ The High Priest tore his robes and said,

         We don't need any more witnesses!⁶⁴ You heard his blasphemy. What is your decision?
         

   They all voted against him: he was guilty and should be put to death. [Mark 14.55-64]

We are all familiar with the injustice of Jesus’ trial: his assumed guilt was a foregone conclusion in the minds of his accusers, so all they had to do was to pile criticism upon criticism until it turned into a case in their minds. Much more convenient than simply saying, ‘Let’s just murder him; that way he’ll never cause trouble again.’

What’s more difficult is to work out what Jesus might have been thinking. None of us is content simply to stand by and take false accusation after false accusation. But in Jesus’ case, he knew that this was God’s will, the journey of redemption, the task for which he had come into this world. I can’t really believe, however, that he simply stood there and thought, ‘This is all going my way.’

Rather, I guess that he was deeply weighed down by the injustice of it all, but the greatest weight was the sense that he was carrying the injustice on behalf of all whom he loved; that he was beginning to be ‘bruised for our transgressions.’ So the inner battle was a twofold one, against the human desire to be rid of pain, whether physical or psychological, and against the weight of ‘the sins of the whole world’. I have a vivid word picture of Jesus standing there, sin upon sin being piled upon him until his whole being shakes under the pressure, and still he stands.

Two more things: none of these people had a clue what he was doing, and it must have been the  loneliest place in the world. We, who mostly need someone to hold our hands in order to bear the simplest pain, watch him whose hand no one held. And last for now, what did it cost him to find the strength to go on proclaiming the truth of his vocation: I am the Messiah, and you will all see the Son of Man…

Lord Jesus, you were the victim of religious bigotry:

be with those who are persecuted by small-minded authority.

You faced the condemnation of fearful hearts:

deepen the understanding of those who shut themselves off from the

experience and wisdom of others.

To you, Jesus, unjustly judged victim,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever.

Jesus is betrayed by Judas and arrested - the 2nd station

Ely Cathedral

⁴³ Jesus was still speaking when Judas, one of the twelve disciples, arrived. With him was a crowd armed with swords and clubs and sent by the chief priests, the teachers of the Law, and the elders.⁴⁴ The traitor had given the crowd a signal:

“The man I kiss is the one you want. Arrest him and take him away under guard.”

 ⁴⁵ As soon as Judas arrived, he went up to Jesus and said,

“Teacher!” and kissed him.⁴⁶ So they arrested Jesus and held him tight. [Mark 14.43-46 Good News Bible]

Judas has fascinated us since the earliest days, and we all want to know why he did it, as if to understand motive justified the action. Sin explained is sin justified, we seem to imply. The other thing we do with Judas is to use him as the scapegoat. We point the finger, wash our hands, and walk away.

All this raises for me the more important question, which is where I locate myself in this freeze-frame. Who am I in the crowd? How shall I choose to orient myself towards Jesus? The truth is that every time I read these words, I find myself in a different place, and it’s this dithering uncertainty that is characteristic of so much that goes on around Jesus in the passion story. Most of the protagonists in this drama are ditherers, and I identify with them easily.

Mostly, I react, whereas Jesus, with immense human dignity and divine sense of purpose sets his face towards Jerusalem, and acts. Sure, he stands passively while people react towards him with kisses, hugs, scourges, stinging words and the rest. But he stands in the certainty that all of this is furthering the action of God, in which he shares: Your will, Father, and mine, are in the end the same will. I will be delivered over to the hands of sinful humanity…

And in his acceptance of his destiny, he acts for my sin and the sin of the world, decisively and finally. This is his desired outcome, and it will be accomplished. So as the story unfolds over the next few days, bring your dithering, your doubt and your uncertainty into conversation with the certainty of the love and grace of God made known to us in Christ Jesus. Be glad that the chief actor in this drama – true man and true God – responds to our undignified and sullied reactions with the supreme act of grace: the cross.

Lord Jesus, you were betrayed by the kiss of a friend:
be with those who are betrayed and slandered and falsely accused.
You knew the experience of having your love
thrown back in your face for mere silver:
be with families which are torn apart by mistrust or temptation.
To you, Jesus, who offered your face to your betrayer,
be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,
now and for ever.Amen.

Prayer (c) Archbishops' Council 2012

Following Jesus through the stations of the cross

Over Holy Week, we are going to post short reflections on each of the biblical Stations of the Cross, with prayers that you might like to use. Do join us on this journey.

1^st Station: Jesus in agony in the Garden of Gethsemane

They went to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray.’ He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, ‘I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.’ And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, ‘Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.’

Mark’s account of the garden prayers is the more shocking, because it comes immediately after Peter’s protestation that he will never forsake Jesus: he said vehemently, ‘Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.’ And then he falls asleep. Peter, the master of the grand gesture, who so often, like me, seems to miss the small detail of discipleship: just sit here while I pray, says Jesus. Remain here. Not too tall a talk. Keep awake.

The small things in our following Jesus are the most symptomatic of the health of our spiritual life, and the details determine the trajectory of our journey of faith. It’s worth the mathematically-minded among you remembering that one degree of movement to the left or right takes us hundreds of miles off course. No wonder Jesus spoke about a narrow path leading to eternal life, lest we lose our way.

Now let’s look briefly at the components of Jesus’ prayer at the beginning of the crisis of his last days:

1.      He names God intimately, confidently, as one in relationship with him. We too can speak the language of Jesus in prayer.

2.      He tells the truth about God: for you all things are possible. This is what praise is: not flattery, not exaggeration. Just the simple truth, and it’s a perfect model for our praise.

3.      He makes a request, and then – almost as quickly – withdraws it. Well, not quite. He is honest with God, doesn’t beat about the bushes: remove this cup. At the same time, however, he speaks with courtesy to the one who know best, and whose will must be done for the sake of the world’s salvation.

And here too we learn from Jesus, to be bold, to be honest, but to be willing for it all to happen another way. Just stay awake long enough to pray this prayer, with its three simple components: My God, you are great. Help me, and help me your way...

Lord Jesus, you entered the garden of fear, and faced the agony of your impending death:

be with those who share that agony nd face death unwillingly this day.

You shared our fear and knew the weakness of our humanity:

give strength and hope to the dispirited and despairing.

To you, Jesus, who sweated blood, be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and forever. Amen.

Prayer (c) Archbishops' Council 2012 from Times and Seasons page 239 

Practically pursuing holiness

The call to holiness is terrifying at the best of times. The Bible enjoins us to be holy, because God is holy, regularly repeated in the Old Testament, picked up in 1 Peter 1.16: for it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy. Even more daunting are Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, calling us to be perfect as our heavenly Father is.

It’s not terrifying because I don’t understand it, but because I do. I am to be like God: there are no two ways about it. It’s not a warning so much as a given, a lifestyle command to the disciples of the Kingdom. And because I know myself only too well, it’s a command to a movement, a process, a journey, a dynamic change in which I expose my life to the gaze of those around me, so that they can help me to identify areas of work and potential growth.

It’s a work that the Holy Spirit must enable: the fruits of the Spirit listed by Paul in Galatians 5 are after all, fruits of the Spirit, with the emphasis boldly put on God. My part is played by collaborating with God, and I want to suggest some additional and very practical ways of pursuing an feeding a holy life in the everyday things this Lent.

1. At the beginning of the day, pray for the events of the day (so far as you know them) one by one. In so doing, you will enter those appointments and actions with the will to do them in the power of God. 
2. At the end of each day, respond thankfully to these actions and events by ‘counting your blessings, one by one.’ In so doing, you will create an inner environment of gratitude which will be likely to generate gracious attitudes in your thought and speech for several days to come. 
3. Identify one person to encourage by your true words. Don’t use flattery, and don’t overplay your words of encouragement, or they will sound hollow. It might simply be a compliment, or the voicing of a good thought about a sermon. How many of us never say thank you to the preacher! 
4. Look for one piece of good news on your favourite news channel, and make a note to talk about it to someone in the next few days. One I found today was that Atlantic Records is giving £26 million to Oxford University for student scholarships in the humanities. It’s hidden low down on the website, but it’s there.
5. Send one less email, and make a lot of people happy.

 I’d love to know what else you do to cultivate a personal environment of holy attitudes which lead to holy actions, so do please add your comments.