Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Seven Last Words of Christ: #1

Seven Last Words of Christ
Lenten Meditation
Ash Wednesday, February 25, 2009

First word
Luke 23.34, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

Ashes are the right symbol for forgiveness. The palm branches waved as crowds hailed Jesus coming into Jerusalem as a new Davidic king, Messiah, Christ. The thunderous crowds acclaim him, shout Hosanna. But mere days later, Hosanna has become Crucify. The deal is struck. Silver changes hands. Barnabas is released instead.

We burn the branches that once hailed Jesus’ triumph. We grind the ash to powder. We mark our heads with the sign of the cross. Because the stains of sin penetrate past skin-deep. There are at least three sins for as many nails, Betrayal, Abandonment and Denial mark the final days of Jesus’ life.

He is betrayed by Judas. We have had good intentions, to feed the poor, to care for the sick. We can’t know for sure. But who ever really knows why friend betrays friend? Betrayal is bitterest because we are hardwired to expect loyalty from those closest to us. Betrayal undermines trust. Trust is at the root of faith. When you’ve been betrayed, you wonder if anyone can be trusted. Can you even trust yourself? Without trust, life becomes the whiplash of looking over the shoulder, wondering when the other shoe is going to fall. Father, forgive us. We meant well.

He is abandoned by the crowds. So fickle, the public adoration. From celebrity savior to criminal scum—it’s not just a PR campaign gone bad. It’s the crowds, the disciples, even us. We have a collective amnesia that wipes our slates clean. Once the exciting rush of the new and improved is over, and the novelty fades into the background, we go on with our lives as usual, letting the opportunity for real change pass us by. Public inertia. Who can sustain euphoria for long? Father, forgive us. We really have no clue.

He is denied by Peter. The one who first declared Jesus Messiah becomes the first to deny. We know what it’s like to look out for our own self-interest. It’s scary to be different, to be identified with outcasts, to worry what others think. It’s safer to blend in, to look and sound like everyone else. Theological peer pressure is real. Spiritually bland, we are like boiled grain that takes on the flavor of whatever seasoning happens to be nearby. Father, forgive us. We were just taking care of ourselves.

On the cross, betrayed, abandoned, denied, Jesus remains loyal, present, and affirmative. Father, forgive us. We do not know what we are doing. But you know. And you stand with us, you stay with us always, and you raise us up. Mark us not only with ashes that trace the cross skin-deep but with grace that plumbs the depths of our being. Amen.