| First Sunday in Lent March 5, 2006 |
Church of the Covenant Robert J. Campbell, D. Min., D. D. Printer-Friendly Version |
Act I, Scene I,
Seeing Is Believing
On regular basis– year in, year out– the major news magazines will run front covers with pictures of the crown of thorns or something similar and will ask questions like, "Who killed Jesus?” Big box office movies are made on the subject, many Christians from older generations learned in their childhood that it was the Jews who were the Christ killers, and over the centuries great atrocities have occurred because of that misguided belief.Anselm laid down a dictum: True faith seeks understanding.
His exact words were, "I do not seek to understand that I might believe, but I believe that I might understand."
During this Lenten journey, it seemed a good time for us to think about the single most important event in our faith. Without the crucifixion, nothing else matters. No crucifixion, no resurrection, and without the resurrection the manner of birth, the miracles, and even the teachings are no more than lore. So we look at the cornerstone of the Christian faith and to do so I want to follow Raymond Brown's lead and present the Crucifixion Scene as a four act drama, played out on history's stage, offering humankind a new understanding of who we are, and who we believe God is.
Scripture: Mark 14:32-42
Jesus and his disciples came to a place called Gethsemane. He asked them to sit while he prayed. He then took Peter and James and John with him. Distress was written all over him and he said to them, "The grief in my heart is so great that it almost crushes me; stay here and watch.” He then went a little farther and threw himself on the ground and prayed, asking if there was any way he might not have to go through the things that seemed before him. “Father, all things are possible for you; take this cup of suffering away; yet not what I want, but your will be done.” When he returned he found his closest friends asleep. He said to Peter, "Simon, are you dozing? Couldn't you stay awake for even an hour?" And he said to the rest of them, "Keep watch, pray that you won't fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." Then he went away again and prayed the same word. When he came back he found them asleep again, and when they awoke they didn't know what to say. So he went again, and the third time, when he returned, he said, "Are you still sleeping? Enough! The time has come. Look, the Son of Man is now being handed over to the powers of this world. Get up; we need to go. Here is the person who is betraying me."
It is arguably the most famous case of capital punishment in history. To most Christians it is a story blended from the four gospel accounts. But there were different agendas behind the writers' accounts, so there are contradictions. Did Jesus ask, “Why, God, have you forsaken me?" Did he plead, "Father, forgive them?" Did he utter, "It is finished?" What was at the core of the memory of the early preachers and story tellers as years passed and they began to record the events that so changed people's lives? They are important questions, not only for historical accuracy but for faith, which is more about believing than exactness. The questions are even more important if our faith is to be real for our world and our times.
As a theater student I remember a director saying, "I don't believe you!" An actor has to believe, no matter the repetition, the sameness of the performance, the seeming absurdity of the script. An actor has to believe in order to make others believe the drama at hand. The same is true for Christians.
Brown's contention is that all four gospel accounts follow a dramatic form. Evidence tells us that at least one was a catechism acted out by early Christians as they prepared to join the faith, which meant they began setting aside their real life dramas in order to enter their Lord's passion, which in turn, to their discovery, helped them find deeper belief for their daily living.
The word “passion” has as one definition: a great desire to accomplish something, to control some circumstance; it is about our desires. Another definition speaks about being in great difficulty. So one is to think about taking hold of life's reins; the other is about being victimized.
While Jesus says, "Let's get on with it!” Gethsemane sets the stage for being carried by the great tide of events to places we would rather not visit. Like in Hamlet, "That which is rotten in the state of Denmark conspires." The conspiracy against Jesus was about to hand him over betrayed, bound, humiliated, and finally executed. He was seemingly a helpless victim without recourse once the floodgates opened.
He had shared an intimate meal with his disciples; they sang a hymn, left the upstairs room, and "came to a plot of land called Gethsemane." It was an ordinary patch of ground. There might have been a wine press or maybe a garden, but the land had no significance other than to have been an out of the way place that Jesus seemed to visit occasionally when he wanted to be alone– a place to get his head together. Maybe you do it on your drive to work or in the garden planting spring bulbs. They came to a plot of ground – terra, earth, any ground, our ground.
He said, "My soul, my psyche, is troubled!" He was disturbed unto death, grief sweeping over him as he weighed the portents of the pending future, and his very "being" was shaken. So he asked his friends to stand close. He went ahead just a little and cried. Some say he sweat great drops of blood. "Daddy, Abba, God, you can do anything. Take this circumstance from me. Do not allow this to happen." It's poignant! It's powerful! It's real!
Luke cuts away some of the sharp edges by sending an angel to comfort him, but it was scandalizing! Big boys don't cry. Real men don't show their feelings! Jesus had said to his friends earlier, "You will be scandalized and you will run, betray, and deny." Peter shot back, "Not me!" But here was the scandal,
it was a scandal for the church. Socrates went to his death for the good of the state in stoic fashion. If this were the Christ it would be unheard of for him to whimper and whine. Yet, he does just that! "God, please!"
Maybe you've never noticed but there are two prayers; bookends to the whole passion story. Gethsemane, "take this cup" ...is directly linked to, "My God, why?” "You didn't take away the cup, now why have you forgotten about me?" It is the epicenter of Mark's account. Writes one commentator, "Mark is written for all who ask why?” And who here has never asked the question, “Why God? Why me? Why did it turn out this way?” And to make matters worse, Jesus returns to find his friends asleep. So much for those who promise loyalty.
The early church used to see in this the pathos of Elijah after defeating the prophets of Baal only to hear Queen Jezebel say, "So what?" Elijah crawled under a broom tree crying, "I'd rather be dead!" It's every person saying what we feel when no matter how hard we try life seems to fail us; friends fail us, family fails us, and God fails us.
Did I take the wrong turn or make the wrong choice? Could things have been different? "God, where did I mess up?" Had Jesus miscalculated as we so often do?
Then there is the isolation. A father dies and an eldest child hears the whisper, "You're next in line!" We get married, have a child, and suddenly in the middle of the night the haunting reality, “I've got all of this on my shoulders now and no instruction book.” Like that line from the film Parenthood, "You need a license to drive a car, but not to have a baby!" Can you do it right? Then tragedy comes. Was it my fault? Why did I buy her that damn car? My God, take it away!
Reach deep down. How many know the inadequacy, the fear, and the hopelessness? The prognosis comes. The call at midnight. “Why, God?” Hear the psalmist,
We want to run and to hide under some security blanket, but there is none. Jesus prayed! It may have been scandal to the stoics, but it was human. Gethsemane is where every person finds common ground with their Lord."Fear and trembling come over me, horror overwhelms me and I say, 'Oh God, that I had wings to fly away.'"
(Psalm 55:5-6)
Jesus prayed and all he asked was for his friends to keep watch– but they slept! Ever felt betrayed– a colleague– someone you thought you could count on? Their eyes grew heavy and they slept! Their calendars grew thick and they got too busy. "When other helpers fail, ...help of the helpless Lord, ...abide with me."
And more, do we not sleep! There are the good intentions, but then there are the distractions. We're not the stuff of Judas, outright treason for reasons only he knew. We're not like Peter, openly denying that we know Jesus. Uncomfortable with announcing our faith– perhaps– but we're not about to deny it. Still, do we watch?
"Keep watch that you don't fall into temptation."
Those who want control in life, those who want all the answers and to avoid the questions, are scandalized by Gethsemane. It has been the case throughout the ages, but writes Brown;
It was so human it had to have happened."In the last days of his life in Jerusalem, as the leaders of his people show unremitting hostility both in rejecting his proclamation and in desiring to get rid of him, that Jesus would struggle in prayer with God about how his death fit into the 'breaking in' of God's kingdom, (it) is so extremely plausible to me it warrants certainty."
Jesus was asking,"How does it all work? What's your plan, God?" That's life! That's our plot of ground, yours and mine, is it not? Then he added, "Your will be done." It wasn't resignation, it was trust in the face of tragedy. Then, in spite of sleeping friends, he pulled himself together and said, "Let's get at it!" It makes the gospel real because it reflects reality, our "very beings," – the days of our lives.
"Let's get on with it!" he said. It is the resolve of real faith that has said its prayers and put fear to bed. Recognizing the moment of action, enough debate, no more discussion. Doubt remained, but no matter. ”Rise up, O Saints of God, ...have done with lesser things!"
Lent is a time of pilgrimage. How to begin? How to discover a deeper faith, one of life and not just cliché? A faith ready for the encounters of our days? Plant your feet firmly on your own ground, that place where you are standing this very moment – that place filled with doubt and question, then say your prayers. Ask why, if you need to, but keep watch. Keep praying. What comes is never the frontal attack you fear, but instead that which results from "sleeping sickness."
There's a painting by artist Jacqueline Sheehan that depicts two faces in similar fashion to the theater masks of comedy and tragedy. But in this case the artist shows the face of nature over against the face of grace. What we become when we are left to ourselves over against what we become in Christ. Both faces speak of passion, one is of unbridled feelings, "eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die." The second is touched by the gentle hand of faith. Both have beauty, but the face of nature carries with it a void– a vacancy, while the face of grace is one of sorrow – invaded, lifted, transformed by hope.
It is the stuff of the theater of our lives and Jesus says, "Get up; let's go! The time is now. I'm with you.”
The real purpose of the passion from its beginning is to tell us clearly, “God is part of our story. Gethsemane is your ground and mine.”
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