The Wondrous Cross

When I survey the wondrous cross 

on which the Prince of Glory died;

my richest gain I count but loss,

and pour contempt on all my pride.

 

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

save in the death of Christ, my God;

all the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to his blood.

 

See, from his head, his hands, his feet,

sorrow and love flow mingled down.

Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,

or thorns compose so rich a crown.

 

Were the whole realm of nature mine,

that were an offering far too small;

love so amazing, so divine,

demands my soul, my life, my all.

 

Isaac Watts

“Truly this man was a son of God.”(Mk 15:39)

“And when the centurion, who stood facing him saw that he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly this man was the Son of God!’.”

The guard, on duty for the executions sees the broken body of one on the cross. The life wrenched out of it.  An image all too familiar. The twisted and mutilated bodies of child soldiers, concentration camp victims, prisoners of war, prisoners of conscience. The horrors of what one human being can inflict on another.

But as we remember that Friday, that day of such suffering, pain and humiliation, we call it Good.

A Good Friday, for this is the moment that we know this man was the son of God. And in this moment we see that it matters. Not just as a tale of what happened 2000 years ago, but now, today.

As we mark another Good Friday, as we follow the King of the Jews once again to Golgotha and see him broken, forsaken, dying, we look to the fulfilment of what was begun on that hill, on that cross. We see the promise that pain and suffering and death can never have the final word. No matter what atrocities we inflict on one another, what tortures we invent, they are not the end.

In the death of Jesus we see the very worst and the very best of humanity. Those who execute out of fear, out of spite. And the one who faces death, in order that death be denied it’s ultimate power.

This is a story that does not end, but begins with the recognition: “truly this man is the son of God.”

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mk 15:34)

“At the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice,  “Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani. Which means: my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”.

Darkness fell over the whole land, and out of the darkness the voice of the lord calls out. A cry of abandonment, the words of the Psalmist:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer: and by night, but find no rest.

Yet, you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.

In you our Fathers trusted; they trusted and you did deliver them.

To you they cried, and were saved.

In you they trusted and were not disappointed.” (Psalm 22: 1 – 5)

Words spoken not just by David, not just by Jesus, but by all of us. Death comes, not just to Jesus, but to the world. To all of creation.

We are abandoned, isolated. Steeped in darkness, the consequence of our own doing. We have turned away from God, we have chosen our own paths. We are overwhelmed by the burdens we carry, the hurt, the loss, the sadness.

And in the midst of that crushing darkness, we look for light. We look for one who has stood in that darkness and has overcome it.

And out of our darkness, we are enabled to echo Jesus’ anguished cry “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

“He saved others; he cannot save himself” (Mk 15:30)

“The chief priests mocked him to one another with the scribes, saying, ‘he saved others; he cannot save himself.’”

Maybe Jesus still has a chance to turn this situation around, to demonstrate his power. To walk away from his execution, that would really be something. And then we would know, then we would believe what they said about him.

Despite the taunts of the onlookers, and the snide observations of the priests and scribes, Jesus does not save himself.

There is not going to be a last minute escape. He will not cheat death by stepping down from his cross.

Jesus remains on the cross, carrying the weight of so many expectations: the hopes of his followers, the jeering of the crowd, the suspicion of the religious authorities, the embarrassment of Pilate.

But Jesus bears the weight of much more than this. He does not hang there for himself, but for you, for me, for everyone who ever lived. He is fastened to the cross, not by nails alone, but by the wrongs of the world.

It is not because he cannot save himself that he remains, but because he chooses to save others.

Jesus absorbs the wrong done to him, the false charges, the death sentence. But more than this by staying on the cross, he absorbs all the wrongs we have ever done. He draws up all of human sin, and he changes things, once and for all.

And the priests fail to see the true meaning of their words “he saved others; he cannot save himself.”

“This is the King of the Jews” (Mk 15:26)

“It was the third hour when they crucified him. And the inscription of the charge against him read, ‘The king of the Jews’.”

The uncertainty of the trial; the power play of the authorities; the pressure of the gathered Jews; the excitement of the festival season; the unexpected freedom for the rebel Barabbas; the palpable expectations of the crowd – all culminate in this:

They take him to the place called Golgotha, which means skull, and there under the heat of the morning sun, they hang him to die on a tree.

This Jesus they had talked about as being the Messiah – the one who would be the answer to all of Israel’s woes. He would overthrow the Roman oppressors, and see to it that the God of the Jews was glorified, was worshipped by all. The Jews would be given their rightful place and their God would reign.

He hadn’t done this, not even close. He had no claim to kingship. He had challenged the Jews, disrespected the leaders, looked for followers amongst law-breakers, the disreputable, the diseased. What would he know of a powerful kingdom?

And look at him now: Israel’s hope banged to a cross.

A man executed, apparently for blasphemy, but really out of disappointment, disillusionment. And maybe out of fear, that it wasn’t he who had got it wrong, but all those who heard him and yet failed to understand. Executed because he was more Truth than the world could bear; the kingdom he proclaimed was not what people wanted to hear.

The charge against him was recorded by the mocking inscription, which read:   “This is the King of the Jews.”

Atonement in ‘Dead Man Walking’

The film Dead Man Walking (Dir. Tim Robbins 1996)  is based on a book written by Sister Helen Prejean about her experiences of ministering to a man on death row. The title is of course based on the phrase that is used when death row prisoners are escorted to their execution. The film explores the power of sin and redemption, Christian duty and what it is to be a human in the sight of God.

The story, (for those who haven’t seen it, it is an excellent film well worth watching. A short account of Helen’s story can be read at http://salt.claretianpubs.org/issues/deathp/prejean.html) follows the last days of convicted brutal murderer and rapist, Matthew Poncelet. It is really a narrative of the grace of God  being active even in the darkest of places and situations, and the film makes a very strong connection between responsibility and redemption.

The family of the murdered teenagers regard the death of  Poncelet as a necessary retribution for the loss of their innocent children, but do not believe that this can really make reparation, or atone, for what he has done and what they have lost.

It really turns out to be Sister Helen who pays the price of Matthew’s redemption. She is shunned by her own community for supporting a racist, and villified by the teenagers parents who consider that she is on Poncelet’s side rather than theirs.  Sister Helen of course, does not regard it as a matter of taking sides, but rather her Christian duty to love the unloveable. And indeed, it is only through her belief in the efficacy of the atonement of Christ that she can bear the burden of this.

The climatic scene of the film shows Poncelet being executed, his arms strapped out and him raised to face the spectator gallery in a clear representation of crucifixion. There is much that echoes the death of Jesus, but of course there is a major difference, Poncelet is not an innocent victim. And so I wonder, what conclusion are we being invited to draw from this parallel? A similar question is invited by this painting by Marylyn Felion entitled Christ as Poor, Black, Death Row Inmate:

 

The painting was entered into a competition to find an image of Christ for the new millenium. This painting was a man called Robert Williams who the artist accompanied on the last few days of his journey before being executed in Nebraska.

These deaths raise a lot of challenging questions for us, but ultimately they cannot offer atonement, even for the crimes that they have perpetrated. They may bring retribution, and some may regard it as justice, but ‘atonement’ must pave the way for a new order, a kingdom with different values. Living according to this new way is costly in all sorts of small and big ways, and it is only because atonement has already been made for us that we are able to pay this price. We do not need to regard the deaths of others who are executed by the state as echoing the action of Christ to recognise that they  can teach us something about the grace of God and the transformative power of the Gospel.

Evil and the theology of the Cross

Todays blog has been contributed by Murray Rae:

What are we to make of the metaphors of the battlefield and the demons? Colin Gunton asks,

“Are these only literary constructions, of interest for the way they show us how certain writers thought, or do they still provide the means whereby we may now engage with the way our world really is? Can we in any way conceive of a God who wins victories by his action in and towards the world?”

I am not concerned here to make any claims about the ontological status of the devil, demons and other principalities and powers. These questions are not unimportant but they are not central to our particular concern here which is the theology of the cross.  How is it possible to express the faith that somehow Christ’s death on the cross is a death ‘for us’? Can the language of the battlefield and victory over demons be usefully employed here?

No one will doubt, I think, that the forces of evil, however we might want to account for them, are gathered at Calvary. And it is clear that the focus of their destructive power is on Jesus himself, who suffers not only the physical agony of crucifixion but the anguish of desertion by his friends and forsakeness by his God. If there is a battle going on through all this then it appears rather one sided and there seems not to be any doubt about the outcome. It certainly doesn’t resemble a triumphant victory for God. Is it appropriate then to speak of the cross as the victory of good over evil, of God over the demons?

If it is appropriate, then it will only be as we come to a new understanding of the nature of victory. There were those who were standing by who mocked him saying, ‘He saved others but he cannot save himself. You who would destroy the temple and in three days rebuild it, come down now from the cross.’ Such actions would, in the eyes of the world, have constituted a victory for Jesus. His tormentors would have been made to look foolish and death would have been avoided. But what would such a victory have meant? I suggest it would mean that the ways of this world represent after all the truth about the world. It would mean that ugly force must be confronted by the exercise of superior power. It would mean that saving one’s own life is really what matters in the end. It would mean that victory involves the humiliation of one’s opponents.

What we see here is a re-shaping of what victory itself might mean. In the light of the cross, itself referred to as a victory, a new conception of victory is disclosed.  Victory is conceived in the light of the cross, not in terms of brute force and the angry suppression of one’s enemies, but rather in terms of the power of love.

Prof Murray Rae is head of the Department of Theology at the University of Otago, New Zealand.

Reconciliation and Restoration

The putting right of atonement paves the way for reconciliation and restoration. There is a real sense in which although something has been done once and for all, the work is not complete. Reconciliation and restoration has not been established; it has been made possible, but the process is not complete. Through his death, Jesus has brought something about that was not the case before. He has opened the way for reconciliation between humans and God. The relationship can be restored and the distance and separation overcome.

This is the now and the not yet of Jesus as the one who brings in the kingdom, the Christ who was and who is and who is to come. The eschatological tension.

When Christ has returned to judge the living and the dead, this will be the final consummation not just of the earth and all created things, but of the work of Christ. For what was achieved in the death and resurrection of Jesus will be completed in his final judgement. And the kingdom that will be established will be one of righteousness and joy. There will be a new heaven and a new earth, with no more death, or mourning and no more crying and pain. Death and evil will have finally and ultimately been overcome once and for all.

The clues to what kind of Kingdom we can expect Christ to establish are already given to us in the life, death and resurrection of Christ and are to be found in the requirements of what the Church should be like. The Christian community is a foretaste or an earthly version of the Kingdom of God. The best of what we are called to be as Church, is a sign of what God’s kingdom will be like.  We have already seen that the judgement will enable reconciliation, and that is one of the signs of God’s kingdom, a people reconciled to God and to one another.  It is only through Christ that this end can be brought about. For the very one who has already taken our sins upon himself, who has conquered death and blazes a pathway for us to eternal life, is the very one who will be our final judge. Who will show us what it means to be fully human, a true child of God and who will lead us to that fulfilled state in his new kingdom. A kingdom which shall have no end.

 

Who is Jesus for us today?

Today’s blog has been contributed by Darren McCallig:

The American Episcopal priest, author and teacher Barbara Brown Taylor was one of the great discoveries of my years as a curate. My boss and rector, the Revd Kevin Dalton had everything she ever published on his bookshelves and crossed the Atlantic more than once to hear her speak. This extract, from a piece first published in 1998 in the biweekly US publicationThe Christian Century, is vintage Brown Taylor. It calls to mind Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s great question: “Who is Jesus Christ, for us, today?”

“I remember being at a retreat once where the leader asked us to think of someone who represented Christ in our lives. When it came time to share our answers, one woman stood up and said, “I had to think hard about that one. I kept thinking, ‘Who is it who told me the truth about myself so clearly that I wanted to kill him for it?”’ According to John, Jesus died because he told the truth to everyone he met. He was the truth, a perfect mirror in which people saw themselves in God’s own light.

What happened then goes on happening now. In the presence of his integrity, our own pretence is exposed. In the presence of his constancy, our cowardice is brought to light. In the presence of his fierce love for God and for us, our own hardness of heart is revealed. Take him out of the room and all those things become relative. I am not that much worse than you are nor you than I, but leave him in the room and there is no place to hide. He is the light of the world. In his presence, people either fall down to worship him or do everything they can to extinguish his light.

A cross and nails are not always necessary. There are a thousand ways to kill him, some of them as obvious as choosing where you will stand when the showdown between the weak and the strong comes along, others of them as subtle as keeping your mouth shut when someone asks you if you know him.

Today, while he dies, do not turn away. Make yourself look in the mirror. Today no one gets away without being shamed by his beauty. Today no one flees without being laid bare by his light.”

The Revd Darren McCallig is Dean of Residence and Church of Ireland Chaplain at Trinity College Dublin.

 

 

The Atonement and Violence

Following on from yesterday’s contribution, today you can listen to a second audio file lecture from Rev Dr Richard Clutterbuck, given recently at a day conference at Edgehill Theological College Belfast. Today’s lecture looks at the issue of the Atonement and violence. Click the link below:

Atonement and violence