Tenison Woods and MacKillop Centre News: Even death on a cross

He emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.

Philippians 2:7-8

Sometimes it takes illness to remind us of our limitations and humanity. None of us is exempt from the onslaught of colds, flu, bacterial and viral infections, nor, in fact, the ravages of age itself. Those of us who have reached milestone, and honoured ages understand the process by which our physical goals diminish, but our desire to achieve great things has no bounds!

The three-year journey of Jesus to Jerusalem, during which he ministered, preached, healed, served and loved came to a close, beginning with his entry into the city, greeted by the cries of ‘Hosanna!’ and the heralding of palms. The coming week brought both the agony and the ecstasy of his decision to accept the will and plan of God. His acceptance is of heroic proportions and divine in accomplishment. He is not the aged, sagacious Father of his People. He is young, at his peak, his disciples have not yet understood his message, there is so much more he could do – and yet everything he has said and done these past three years is leading him, thrusting him to the tree of life.

These days of darkness and shadows reveal the fullness of Jesus’ humanity as he struggles with the choices before him, the finality of his decision, the acceptance of and release of his self, his body, his life, for his Father, for us. Indeed, as Paul writes: He humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death

What an awesome mystery this is, what surrender, what passion.

A part of us too should ache with the knowledge of that passion, for that is our share in the mystery. Join us this Good Friday in worship as we remember and relive the Passion of Jesus, our Lord and Saviour.

Peter Douglas

HEAD OF SCHOOL SERVICES, NORTH

PETER'S WHEREABOUTS FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS:

Peter will be available 8, 9 and 10 April at the Tenison Woods Centre.

MEETINGS COMING UP:

Jesus in the Garden by Ron Rolheiser

Rather the Gospels deliberately understate what Jesus had to endure physically because they want us to focus on something else, namely, his moral and emotional suffering, particularly his sense of abandonment, his aloneness, the absence at the most crucial time in his life of any deep human support, intensified by the seeming absence of God. In his loneliest hour Jesus was without any human soul mate and without divine consolation. He was, in the words of Gil Bailie, unanimity-minus-one. There is no deeper sense of abandonment.

And it is within that utter aloneness that Jesus has to continue to give himself over in trust, love, forgiveness, and faith. It’s easy to believe in love when we feel loved; to forgive others when they are gracious towards us; and to believe in God when we feel strongly God’s presence. The difficulty, the “test”, comes when human love and divine consolation collapse, when we find ourselves surrounded by misunderstanding, abandonment, distrust, hatred, and doubt, especially at our loneliest hour, just at that moment when life itself is eclipsing. How do we respond then?

Will love, trust, forgiveness, and faith collapse in our hearts when the emotional pillars that normally sustain us collapse? Can we forgive someone who is hurting us when that person believes that we are the problem? Can we continue to love someone who hates us? Can we continue to believe in trust when everywhere around us we are experiencing betrayal? Can we let our hands and hearts be opened, stretched, and nailed to a cross even when we are fearful? Can we continue to have faith in God when every feeling inside us suggests God has abandoned us? Can we still hand over our spirit when we feel absolutely no human or divine support? Where are our hearts when we are “a stone’s throw away” from everyone?

That, and not the capacity to physically endure scourging and nails, was the real test inside of Jesus’ passion. Jesus’ agony in the Garden was not so much an agonizing as to whether he would allow himself to be put to death or whether he would invoke divine power and escape. He recognized that he was going to die. The question for him was rather how he would die: Could he continue to surrender himself to a God and to a truth he had previously known when this now seemed to be belied by everything around him? Could he continue to trust? What kind of spirit would he hand over at the end? Would it be gracious or bitter? Forgiving or vengeful? Loving or hate-filled? Trusting or paranoid? Hope-filled or despairing?

That will be our test too in the end. One day each of us will also have to “give over” his or her spirit. Inside of that unanimity-minus-one, will our hearts be warm or bitter?