Finally catching on

This was probably about the fourth Lenten season that I started reading Death on a Friday Afternoon. I started even before Lent this time, thinking that this would finally be the year I finished it "on time." 

Well, I still didn't. 

But fortunately, the time I spent with Fr. Mike Schmitz doing the Bible in a Year program last year taught me to stop thinking in terms of "on time." Fr. Neuhaus has made clear that it's always a good time to think about Good Friday, and that the Crucifixion and Resurrection are each best contemplated in the light of the other anyway. They each provide the context in which the other should be understood, and they both provide the meaning for my daily life. 

So I have some of the book left, and will continue to read and share from it during this Easter season. This will probably give me time to soak in some of the content that I've rushed through in the past because I was "late" finishing up.

Knowing our story

The gospel is the story of the world and of everyone in the world, whether they know it or not. Again, in the words of (St.) John Paul II, "Christ is the answer to which every human life is the question." The mission of the Church is bring the world to itself, as we are told that the prodigal son in that distant country "came to himself." . . . Again, the Church does not have a mission, as though missionary work were one of its programs or projects. The Church is the mission of Christ, who continues to seek and save the lost who do not know their story." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I don't know how closely related this prior post is, but it seems relevant. 

There is this train of thought in the world today that no one knows us as well as we know ourselves, and that this self-knowledge should be sufficient to justify every decision we make. We see this approach at work in many different contexts. I'm sure my mom had similar thoughts when she engaged in the illicit relationship that produced me. Often we arrive at a later point in our resulting story realizing that we didn't know our real story at all. Many times we find that we have written subsequent chapters in our own lives and in others' that have resulted in very painful repercussions. 

The truth is that none of us know our story until will know our Savior. There is no part of our story that does not need to be redeemed and brought to completion in him, to be united to his story (history). When he has brought us to ourselves, we find that we enter into the mission of helping others discover their story in him, too. 

It may seem arrogant from the outside, but I suspect it's more arrogant by far to think that my story matters in any other context.

Witness

An apostle is ever so much more trustworthy than a religious genius. A genius may have flashes of insight and come up with a brilliant spiritual scheme, but what he has to say is finally and uniquely his. I cannot enter into it or trust it completely. An apostle's role is much more modest and, therefore, more credible: "I have been told something that I must tell you. Make of it what you will." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I think the desire to come up with our own insight and brilliance is a sin of pride. What more could I aspire to than to witness to the love of Christ Jesus? Yet many of us want to find some new way of putting out the message, some new angle that helps people accept what they have rejected or what they struggle with. I think this is a matter of getting our role wrong, of wanting to be responsible for the saving of souls, when that is not our job. 

Our job is to witness. Jesus has done an amazing thing in my life, and I want to share how He has loved me so that some who hear me understand how very much He loves them, too. The point of my discipleship is to become more like Christ so my life bears the same testimony as my words.

The glory of humble obedience

At the juvenile level of popular culture, Jesus might be more admired had he defied the will of the Father. One can readily  imagine the herd of independent minds cheering his defiant," I want to be free to be ME!" To the more mature, he might seem to be a greater hero had his final surrender to his destiny been preceded by a titanic struggle against that destiny. Why do so many think the glory of the cross is diminished because Jesus' will and the will of the Father were perfectly one? I expect it is for the same reason that, as we discussed earlier, many people say that the original fall was a fall upward rather than a downward. Modern consciousness has no higher interest than itself.  - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Yes, we seem to put out struggle against ourselves on a pedestal, as if the nobility in our obedience is found in the fact that we want to be disobedient and struggle not to be. There is, indeed, glory in a struggle, but it is not a greater glory than that of humbly accepting that God's will is greater than our own.

I have a good friend, probably my best friend, who desperately desires a different path for her life than the one she is on. I admire that she is determined to trust in God's will and follow his guidance rather than selfishly make decisions that could bring her wishes to fruition in a way other than God's revealed plan. I have never mentioned to her that, by her obedience, she is probably sparing someone else great pain. Instead, she chooses to bear her own, and trusts that God is going to work out her life according to His plan for her. 

I see God's glory revealed in her life as she obeys His will. I know it is a struggle for her, just as Jesus' agony in the garden reveals that his obedience to the Father was a struggle for him, too. 

Hope in the Forsaken One

If, as St. Paul says, Christ who knew no sin was made sin for us, can there be any sin he did not bear there on the cross? If the answer is no, as I believe it must be, then even the utterly forsaken are not bereft of the company of the utterly forsaken one, the Son of God, and therefore not bereft of hope." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

This is a comforting thought as I instinctively contrast my Aunt Helen's life and recent death with my dad's so long ago. He was proud and adamant in his atheism. He would not accept God's grace while he lived, and in his hopelessness took his own life. 

Yet I hope that he is not now bereft of hope.

Perhaps there is hope for me, too, as I continue to refuse to yield my will fully to God's, one way or another, decade after decade. 

The Derelict

Not starting this one with a quotation, but it's still inspired by Death on a Friday Afternoon, by Fr. Richard John Neuhaus.

I haven't been reading or reflecting as much on this book of late while I participated in the Holy Father's requested Annunciation novena for the Consecration of Russia and Ukraine to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. For me, this was a matter of obedient availability, of subjecting my agenda to what it seemed God was asking of me. I would far prefer to reflect on this inspiring book, yet I have found this rosary each morning to still be a blessed time in God's presence. It has given me the opportunity, too, to pray for my dear Aunt Helen, for whose funeral we will be departing tomorrow, along other prayer intentions. 

Now I return to this book in the fourth chapter, on the word "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." I am torn between this verb and "abandoned," which is used in some translations of this psalm. Fr. Neuhaus presents the image of Jesus as a derelict, which on its face can seem offensive. This is God Incarnate we're describing here, my Savior. How dare you refer to Him using the same term we'd apply to an addicted bum in an alleyway!

And that is the point. Jesus gave us multiple instances of exactly why we need to embrace this concept rather than reject it outright, and they are all about God's love for every one of us rather than an insult to the Son of God. 

In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, I'm sure the former disdained the latter (oops: five minute thought break while my cat climbs into my arms for a snuggle. Now, where was I? Oh yes:) in very similar thoughts to those we have in mind as we think of dirty, urine-smelling, disgusting bums on the street. Perhaps we think the only thing offensive about Lazarus is that he was very poor, but I imagine the rich man found him abhorrent. Yet God saw them both very differently, perhaps even than Lazarus himself did. And likewise, outside of God's merciful grace, we are all as abhorrent as the most despicable human being we can imagine. When we have recognized this about ourselves and truly received the grace God desires for us, we become less judgmental of those whose struggles in this world are different from our own.

"For as often as you did it to the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me." Thus Jesus says in the parable of the sheep and the goats. Who do we think "the least" is, anyway? Do we somehow think it's only the "circumstantially deserving least"? Yet so we often behave. 

We often convince ourselves that we somehow deserve God's love because of the wonderful people we are, not realizing that it is God's love that makes us wonderful people rather than our own innate worthiness. 

What derelict am I called to embrace today?

More of the crucial glory

 "'In the Cross of Christ I Glory,' declared  the nineteenth century hymn writer John Browning. It seems a strange, even bizarre, glory. "We have beheld his glory," St. John wrote, meaning that he was there, with Mary, beholding the final and perfect sacrifice. In the churches of Asia Minor that were founded by John, Easter was celebrated not on Sunday, as with other churches, but on 14 Nisan, the anniversary of Christ's death. This was his 'hour' of glory. The resurrection ratified and reinforced what was already displayed on the cross. When John, therefore, places Mary at the cross, he is placing her at the very center of salvation. She was there with him, beholding a glory different from, even the opposite of, everything ordinarily meant by glory. It was God's glory, which is love." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

For me and for Fr. Neuhaus, this passage is a continuation of the one I began to reflect on the other day and subjugated the the Holy Father's prayer agenda. This thought process reinforces my prior thoughts about what Jesus himself meant whenever he referred to being glorified, and how we ourselves tend to view pain as something to avoid rather than embrace as an act of love when God reveals it as his plan for our lives. (I'm sure I have shared some related ideas about how husbands are called to love their wives, too.)

I love how Fr. Neuhaus has tied Jesus's sacrifice for us to the fullest possible expression of God's love. Maybe more than anything else, this is why it is so important to spend time reflecting on Good Friday. We prefer to rejoice in the resurrection, and perhaps we should. But the victory that the resurrection expresses was won on Calvary. How apt that St. John insisted on celebrating Easter on the anniversary of that date.

I will, however, make this objection to Fr. Neuhaus's thoughts: it wasn't John who placed Mary at the cross. It was Mary's devoted love for her son that caused her to be there, in the grace bestowed on her that led to her initial and ongoing fiat. 

We never know where our fiat, our availability, will take us, either, but it will be glorious, and perhaps strangely so.

Laying down our lives

 "Today's sexual politics and disputes over gender are, at least in this connection, but another variation on a longstanding aversion to the way of discipleship. Let it be said that men have far more to answer for than women, for they have been more in charge of deriving alternatives to the way of the cross. But let us be completely candid: to say that Mary's way is not our way is to say that Christ's way is not our way." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

First, I love the subtle way that Fr. Neuhaus has linked the way of discipleship to the way of the cross. There is no embracing discipleship without embracing the cross and all it implies for us. Laying down our lives, in one way or another, is not an optional thing that only some are called to do. I have written at length and on multiple occasions previously about one context in which husbands, including me, have often failed to answer this call. We have made women fight for their autonomy by not being willing to treat them how God has treated us all in this regard. Sometimes we all overreach what our freedom means for us, imposing restrictions or consequences on others in the process. 

So while some are called to the ultimate sacrifice of our lives for the sake of the kingdom, more of us, I think, are called to embrace our calling to support our loved ones who are called in different ways than we are. Sometimes this can pierce our hearts, and feel like its own death. 

Taking part

"'Woman, what have you to do with me. My hour has not yet come.' He has now no other life than what he calls "my hour," referring to his appointed mission. There is no way to be part, to have part, except to take part in his "hour." There is no independent connection with Jesus, no connection apart from that mission, not even the connection of a mother with her son." Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

"Unless I wash you, you have no place in me." Jesus conveys the same message to St. Peter the night before he dies for us. "As I have done for you, so you must also do." Our serving Jesus in others is how we take part in this mission, this hour. Such service can feel like laying down our lives sometimes, even when it is for people we love deeply. Sometimes mostly for them, and this is when we know the depth of our love. When we connect this service to Jesus' mission, to our mission as his body on earth, we find ourselves living out our part in him, and drawing nearer to him than we have ever known.

Good Friday 2020

One of the great blessings of my life each year has been the hour or two I spend in the wee hours of Good Friday morning worshiping the Lord and listening to the Holy Spirit as part of our all-night adoration vigil. We used to hold this in our Eucharistic chapel, but a few years ago in obedience to our leaders we moved to another location, using a tabernacle set up in the school gym. It hasn't mattered to me where we gathered; each year the Lord speaks something new to my heart. In this time of prayer, either alone in His Eucharistic Presence or with a couple of other parishioners, as I reflect on what He has done for me on this holy day when He laid down His life for me and throughout my life's journey, Jesus continues to pour out His life into mine.

It still doesn't matter where we meet.

This has, of course, been the oddest Lent of my life. I stand now at my remote workstation set up downstairs in our home, with the webcam at the Sanctuary of Divine Mercy in Vilnius, Lithuania open on one screen, and this blog open on the other. This annual hour from God gave me the chance to finish this year's edition of Best Lent Ever from Dynamic Catholic, as I caught up on the last couple of chapters of Rediscover the Saints and listened to Matthew Kelly's reflections for the last several days. It hasn't merely been the outside world in disarray this Lent, with the isolation imposed in response to this pandemic. My heart has been astray, too. It has been very difficult to believe that my life has been touched and transformed by God's loving hand. The life that has resulted, in many ways, from decisions that were counter to God's revealed will for us - my decisions and those of others - has seemed to me a past, present, and future burden rather than a precious gift. The love of which I have been an undeserving recipient has not felt like the treasure that I usually know it to be. And I have felt not so much like a pilgrim on a journey wherever my loving God leads, nor even a tourist whose plans in this life have been derailed by circumstances beyond my control, but a prisoner receiving a punishment that his heart believes he deserves.

And yet, as I come before God on this early morning, knowing beyond a doubt that my sinful lack of gratitude makes me undeserving to be present in the Garden with Him, I also have a sense that this is precisely where God wants me to be. This morning, as in every moment, God is not requiring me to be worthy on my merit but only present to His merciful, loving Grace. As I watch just a few of my brothers and sisters on the other side of the ocean come and go in the only adoration chapel I could find online this morning, I am reminded that all of us are just struggling to trust Jesus to provide in His mercy the grace to walk today in His unfathomable love for us.

I will not be receiving my Lord in Holy Communion today, as most of us also have not for the previous several weeks. We know not how long this will go on. But I am convinced that God's mercy is no less at work in this time, as long as we are willing to let Him use our lives for His purposes, whatever our circumstances. This Triduum is different from any other, but God's love and glory are not diminished because of it unless we withhold our hearts from Him who held back nothing from us.

Let us celebrate our Lord's holy Passion and great love on this Good Friday and every day.

Very nice Good Friday

Good prayer time in the early morning (will transcribe my reflections into here later), followed by a much needed nap. Very nice service in the afternoon at St. H., after which I received a great compliment from our music director. Since rain was in the forecast for last night and today (which hasn't developed), I took advantage of the beautiful day to mow the lawn. Thinking I had plenty of time to get to IC for the Taize evening prayer and veneration service, I was getting ready to prep my picking fingernails when I checked the call time, which put me in a panic because I was already late. Still, the service was very nice, though that tardiness did cause a relatively large mistake. Oh well. Watched a bit of banal entertainment with my wife before calling it a night too late.

More strange glory

In the cross we see that of which humanity is capable: self-transcendence in surrender to the Other. All the evidence to the contrary, we are capable of love. The sign of shame and death becomes the sign of cosmic possibility. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

It is certain that I am again not going to complete this book this Lent, even despite having very few times I have been inspired to write about new passages on which I haven't previously reflected. Taking two weeks off will do that, I suppose.

Fr. Neuhaus speaks of the strange glory of the cross. Even before first reading this excellent book, I was in agreement with him, as I spoke of the cross in a specific context. Considering Ephesians 5, I have often referred to a paraphrase I once read of the verse Husbands, love your wives as Christ loves the Church, which was rendered, Husbands, go the way of the cross for your wives. I would tell my fellow married friends how we consider the cross something to be avoided, but Jesus shows us that it is something to be embraced, that there is in fact no love without sacrifice. Love is selfless, and avoiding pain is not.

In the midst of a hurt, we can have trouble thinking of the harm that someone has done to us in such terms. It can seem unhealthy to keep leaving ourselves vulnerable. But I have seen, even recently, how the right focus on the other in the context of what I have been forgiven can serve to bring healing. It isn't easy, or natural, but it can be a glorious thing.

Living the Way

At the foot of the cross, there is sorrow;
At the foot of the cross, there is love;
Flowing down together in a river of salvation,
Covering all the world with grace. 

At the foot of the cross, there is sadness;
At the foot of the cross, there is hope;
Flowing down together in a river of forgiveness, 
Covering all the world with grace. 

This is where I have, ultimately found myself this Lenten season.

There is deep sorrow when someone you love hurts someone else you love.
There is great sadness when that person is non-repentant of their actions.
There is hurt when that person has intentionally hidden their actions from you, then lies to you about it even when you try to be gentle in your confrontation. (The person has since apologized for the deception.)

But there is love and hope at the foot of the cross. There is salvation, and forgiveness.

And I hope that there is healing and growth.

After all: I have been forgiven a greater debt.

Good Friday reflection, 2016

Today was the first Good Friday I've worked in 22 years, but I did take half a day of PTO. Instead of trying to get my usual two hours in the middle of the night on Good Friday, I signed up for 5-6, and jumped at the chance to get a half hour from our deacon's two-hour 6-8 commitment. It worked out very nicely.

There was much proclaimed by the prophets about the mystery of the Passover; that mystery is Christ. (emphasis added) - From an Easter homily by St. Melito of Sardis, bishop, as quoted in yesterday's Office of Readings

St. Melito goes on to mention many of the ways that Christ was present in or revealed by the events of the Hebrew Scriptures. We can see Him in them, we can learn of Him and even encounter Him there, but any litany of them will fail to touch us unless we are willing to accept Him, that is, to acknowledge that God has an authority over our lives as a result of being Author and Creator and of setting aside His power in favor of His love and mercy. Jesus being the Passover only makes Him my Passover to the degree that I acknowledge that He is my only path from death to life, and begin to respond to the Father's love and mercy in a way that recognizes His Author-ity over my life.

Rescue my soul from the sword,
My life from the grip of these dogs.
Save my life from the jaws of these lions,
My poor soul from the horns of these oxen. - Ps 22: 21-22

David (I presume) was writing of his enemies in these derisive tones, so we must be careful with them. For while these images - dogs, lions, oxen - also represent us in our effect on Jesus' human life, we must not forget that it was perfect Love which caused Him to subject Himself to us and which calls us back to the Heart that has so desperately longed for our return that He would make Himself our sacrifice - even when we would sacrifice nothing of ourselves for His Love. Indeed, St. Paul makes the progression in the letter to the Romans of our still being helpless, then sinners, then enemies, when Christ gave Himself for us.

Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss? - Lk 22:48

How often we, too, do this. In our certitude that what we are doing is right - or, perhaps, that we have a right to do this, to wield our power in the way we deem best - we betray God's love, and mercy, and authority over us. We insist on our own authority and our own understanding, and so we apply the stamp of God's will on actions that are really rooted in our own.

It can be a quandary, because what appears to be mercy toward some can look like rejection of others, and even of God. God is always calling us closer, and that means He is always calling us to receive His love and to love as He does, not forsaking the truth, yet inviting judgment on ourselves rather than imposing it on others.

We misunderstand the nature and manifestation of Love, and as we act in our own misunderstanding, we betray Jesus with our embrace, too.

For if the blood of goats and bulls and the sprinkling of a heifer's ashes can sanctify those who are defiled so that their flesh is cleansed, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself up unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from dead works to worship the living God!" - Heb 9:13-14

Of course, the goats, bulls and heifer, as well as the ram in the thicket, and the lambs' blood on the Hebrew families' lintels, are but the faintest symbols of the true Lamb. Their greatest importance is to reveal Jesus, who in turn reveals the Father's heart of love for us as He fulfills the purpose of His earthly life. This viewpoint which Neal Lozano has emphasized in Abba's Heart parallels what St. John Chrysostom emphasizes in today's Office of Readings (about which I have reflected on previous Good Fridays).

Do you understand, then, how Christ has united His bride to Himself and what food He gives us all to eat? By one and the same food we are both brought into being and nourished. As a woman nourishes her child with her own blood and milk, so does Christ unceasingly nourish with His own blood those to whom He Himself has given life. - from the Catecheses by St. John Chrysostom, bishop, as quoted in today's Office of Readings

Even motherhood is a type for Christ. I have so often marveled at the rest of this great reading that I have missed its wonderful conclusion! We are indeed bone from Christ's bone, and flesh from Christ's flesh , sacrificed for us to make us a new creation, an eternal creation, imbued with everlasting life. (Likely most importantly, we are spirit from Christ's Spirit!)

____

Now I want to invoke Fr. Neuhaus a bit, even though I haven't been reading him this season. We call this "Good Friday," even as we rightly acknowledge the role our sin and guilt play in our (my! For each of us, it must be "my," even while it must be also "our") Savior's suffering and death. Perhaps we should call it Great Friday. Redeeming Friday. Delivering Friday. Victory over Sin Friday. Sanctifying Friday. Transforming Friday. All-the-Difference-Making Friday. Perfect Love Friday. It is worth reflecting on in its own right. (Rite, right?)

I look above the tabernacle where my Savior is present, where I have come seeking to be with Him during His trial and knowing that it is really He who is with me during mine, and through the textured glass of this chapel I see the illuminated crucifix in the main church. As Fr. Neuhaus encourages me, I don't skip ahead. I confess the link between Christ present in this tabernacle and His sacrifice this day on the cross of my sin. He has defeated the power of both the physical cross and my sin to cause death. As I sit and pray with Him in the garden, and observe Him before the Sanhedrin and Pilate, walk with Him along the Via Dolorosa, mourn His death on the cross, and as His blood and water flow down over me, it is not His lifeless body which I embrace, but His life-giving sacrifice and eternal Sonship.

I closed out this time with a return to Abba's Heart, but I will share of that in a separate post.

Echoes of another book

Do we really understand what happened on that day we call "Good" Friday? Do we understand the Father's pain in watching Jesus, His Son, die, and in the loss of all who died in their sins, separated from Him? - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart

I cannot help but recall Fr. Richard John Neuhaus' reflections from Death on a Friday Afternoon, on which I have written so often as I read during past Lenten seasons. I'm not sure I've ever fully made this link between the Father's heartbreak over his Son and over us. These two lines by themselves don't make this connection very well, of course, but this section of the book does.

I keep finding myself coming back to the initial thought at the front of the book. It has become my go-to thought in my traditional times of temptation, over which I have never had lasting victory and freedom. I am finding that this tangible reminder of my Father's love for me, in the form of a question to which I have consistently known the answer - Dad, do you love me? - has been the answer that my soul needs: a love from which I never want to separate myself.

Transforming (phase 4) - Jesus appears to the disciples on the lakeshore (step 31) - session 1e

Jn 21 (cont.)

"Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you girded yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go." (This he said to show by what death he was to glorify God.) And after this he said to him, "Follow me." - (18-19)

Jesus now indicates to Peter the reason why it is so important that Peter know that he is acting out of love for the Lord, not out of mere obligation. Merely being connected to Jesus because of following him for these years and seeing his miracles - having a sense that this is someone that Peter desperately wants to be dedicated to, to the point of giving his all for Jesus - did not keep him from failing to fulfill his expressed willingness to lay down his own life for the Lord. Peter needs to be moved beyond affection and idealism and obligation to the unwavering north star of love. Any lesser motivation would cause him to ultimately shrink again in the face of the trials to come. And Jesus wants Peter to know that he is not the same man, driven by the same inadequate desires, but is now a true disciple motivated by love.

And now, when Jesus says "Follow me," there is no mistaking what that means. All of those things that he has said - there being no greater love than to lay down one's life for a friend; the extent to which he calls us to serve one another; sending the disciples as the Father had sent him - are now in the context of his crucifixion sacrifice and his resurrection from the dead. 

Will I follow?

Confirming (phase 3) - Crucifixion and Death (step 26) - session 2

Beneath the cross at St. Helen, during and after the evening service of the Passion of the Lord. I couldn't believe how strongly Word resonated with me during the Mass when I fixed my gaze upon that crucifix.

Observe how great my love for you, my precious child, my beloved brother, my dear friend. It is limitless. I pour myself out for you completely, I who came from infinity and return to infinity to bring you home with me.

See, my servant shall prosper, he shall be raised high and greatly exalted. (Is 52:13) - See how I am exalted, my beloved one, that you might look upon me and live! (cf Jn 3:14-15 and Num 21:8) By my stripes you are made whole (Is 53:5), cleansed of your sin in the only way that you could believe the Truth of such a seemingly impossible wonder! See how True it is that with God all things are possible (Lk 18:27). even that you would die in me to rise with me. But do not skip ahead, for my people remain in their tombs and need for me to call them out through you and with you. Rest in me, my dear one, that I may restore you for the work ahead.

I shall see you in a long life (Is 53:10), my dear child, in my eternal life which I have prepared for you, having won pardon for your offenses that you may be righteous. (Is 53:11)

Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered, and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. (Heb 5:8-9)

Confirming (phase 3) - Crucifixion and Death (step 26) - session 1

This step suggests a picture meditation, and provides a link to three moving images of Christ's crucifixion with connections to beloved saints. Still, I believe I will meditate before our own crucifix at St. Helen in conjunction with this evening's service.

Meanwhile, I will reflect on the conclusion of St. John's Passion:

Jn 19:16-37

There appears not to be an original thought to be had. Even knowing this cross is my victory, it fills me with sorrow. So just a couple of impressions:

I have never understood why it should matter who was where when they were crucified? Surely the center could not have represented a more honorable death than either side.

Even while acceding to them, Pilate can't help tweaking the council.

They treated Jesus' tunic with more respect than his body. I think we do the same thing, attributing a higher value to those who are dressed nicely.

I have reflected before on Good Friday (at least once) about Chrysostom's observation that the blood and water from Jesus side represent the sacraments of Eucharist and Baptism. Even in death he blesses us with gifts containing depth beyond comprehension.

Thank you, dearest Lord.

Thank you, dearest Lord.

Thank you, dearest Lord.

Confirming (phase 3), - Interrogated, denied, mocked, tortured and condemned . . . (step 25) - sessions 5 and 6

Back before Pilate and the episode with Barrabas; condemned by the people

Jn 18:28-40

Having omitted the council's trial and any mention of Herod, St. John gets down to the details of Jesus' condemnation. The council replies to Pilate's inquiry of charges with, basically, "He's a bad dude. You won't let us kill him, so you do it." But they must have said something about Jesus claiming to be a king, because of Pilate's next interrogation of Jesus.

Still, even when Jesus concedes his kingship, Pilate does not see it as any threat to peace in his region of responsibility. The greater threat is from the potential uprising that seems to be developing over his refusal to execute Jesus.

This ties right back in with thoughts over the last couple of weeks regarding how fear drives us to take actions that we would otherwise reject as clearly unjust. He mentions (another) possible way out, knowing that Jesus must have some popularity among the people or the council wouldn't be worried about him. But those supporters appear to be absent. From fear? By manipulation? Both?

At any rate, the crowd that is present asks for Barrabas, not "this one." Every time I read (or chant) this Passion, I want the crowd to spare him, even though it is only through his wrongful death that I have been delivered. It still seems to wrong. It violates me. More below.

Scourging, mockery and condemnation to crucifixion

Jn 19:1-16

Pilate hopes that his torturing and mocking of Jesus will appease the rabble clamoring for his death. By comparison I suppose it might seem an attempt at kindness. Again we see evil done because of fear. In the end it does nothing but cement their determination to have him killed.

Fr. Neuhaus points out how rather than condemn us as we deserve, God himself submits to our condemnation of him. (Really, if you haven't read Death on a Friday Afternoon, stop shortchanging yourself with my brief references to it!)

Pilate should not be misunderstood to be compassionate toward Jesus. He is being pragmatic, avoiding by the most expedient path the uprising that will surely cost him his governorship. Usually an unjust execution would be more likely to cause such a commotion than preventing it would, but it becomes apparent to him that this is not the case, and for this reason alone he acquiesces to the crowd.

I thank God for the great love he shows by his incredible sacrifice. He is never taken by surprise at anything we do, as he has seen us do it.

Confirming (phase 3), - Interrogated, denied, mocked, tortured and condemned . . . (step 25) - session 4

Trial before Herod

Luke alone mentions this attempt by Pilate to extricate himself from the twin perils of an unjust execution and an angry council. Sending him off to Herod must have seemed the perfect solution.

Lk 23:6-16

That ended up not working out so well for Pilate, and Jesus ended up right back in his lap.

That tends to happen when we try to pass the buck regarding him. We get to deal with him later, when our circumstances have grown more dire simply from refusing to do what we should.