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Good Friday

I have written and stated on many occasions, “you cannot die nicely, or tidily nailed to a cross.” That is why the Romans used crucifixion as a means of inflicting the death penalty. If you are wearing a cross on a chain around your neck, or maybe pinned to your clothing; maybe you have one hanging on a bedroom or lounge wall. Have a close look – many worn round the neck have no figure, and many we hang on our wall and in our churches, while embodied, the body is of a dead Jesus, not a dying Jesus. Our profession of faith proclaims. “dying you destroyed our death”; it was Jesus dying on the Cross that effected this, not Jesus dead!  You cannot die nicely through crucifixion – and that is precisely why the Romans chose the method. Golgotha was a rubbish dump and with Jewish strict laws on purity, what better place to set up crucifixion pylons.  Jesus was stripped naked, again a huge insult to Jewish rules of purity – a grown man naked in public was reprehensible. Both actions, on their own, would have deterred family and close friends from gathering – the intention being that the person died in gruesome agony alone. I remember the brilliant lines of W.B.Yeats at the end of his poem ‘The Circus Animals’ Desertion’:

I must lie down where all the ladders start. In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart

The artwork I have chosen is by the Russian realist painter Nikolai Ge (1831 – 1894). A copy hangs in Museum d’Orsay in Paris. The first version of the canvas was written in 1892,  and the viewer is confronted with oppressive and hopeless emotions. Probably it is difficult to underestimate the hopelessness and complete despair of the last moments of the life of Jesus and his death, which, would have been unbearably painful. Nothing can be done when the body is nailed to the cross and hangs on it. Paying attention to the face, one can see how the death throes distorted the face and a death painful cry came from the mouth.  Note, as symbolically and indifferently depicted, apparently one of the “executioners”, that in the background, having done their work, simply indifferently went about his business.

The work was considered shocking and near-blasphemous and Tsar Alexander ordered it to be withdrawn from the 22nd exhibition of the Itinerants where it was shown for the first time.

The poem is by the priest/poet Malcolm Guite, titled “Jesus Dies on the Cross

The dark nails pierce him and the sky turns black
We watch him as he labours to draw breath
He takes our breath away to give it back,
Return it to it’s birth through his slow death.
We hear him struggle breathing through the pain
Who once breathed out his spirit on the deep,
Who formed us when he mixed the dust with rain
And drew us into consciousness from sleep.
His spirit and his life he breathes in all
Mantles his world in his one atmosphere
And now he comes to breathe beneath the pall
Of our pollutions, draw our injured air
To cleanse it and renew. His final breath
Breathes us, and bears us through the gates of death

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Holy Thursday

The liturgy of Holy Thursday evening presents us with something of a conundrum, namely where is our focus?  Do we focus on the foot washing or do we focus on the institution of the Eucharist?

As a growing young boy, I have no memory of the foot washing ritual as being a significant feature of the liturgy of Holy Thursday. I do have strong memories of the ritual of the procession after communion to what was known as the “altar of repose”.

(Somewhat intriguingly the account of the foot washing occurs only in the Gospel of St. John – if it was such an important event why do not all the Gospel writers record the event?)

The Gospel of St. Mark recounts for us with simple drama the events of that night in the upper room, “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, ‘Take it; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it. ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many,’ he said to them.” (Mark 14: 22 – 24).

What is given to those present is ‘bread broken’ and ‘blood poured out’.

We, in turn, have worked tirelessly for generations to put together the broken, poured out Saviour.

I am always somewhat intrigued by the juxtaposition that occurs when small groups gather for a liturgical rite known as Exposition and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. The consecrated host is removed from the Tabernacle and placed in a receptacle known as a monstrance. In days past, such receptacles were very elaborate in their design (on many occasions laden with gold and precious stones.) The monstrance is then placed on the altar and individuals and/or groups spend time kneeling and/or sitting in prayer.

Frequently there is, in the same physical space where the monstrance sits, a crucifix – a cross bearing the bruised, battered, and broken body of Jesus. There is already, in our Churches, an opportunity to Adore the Blessed Sacrament, namely the person of Jesus nailed to a tree – “this is my Body broken for you; my Blood shed for you.”

I have often asked myself the question, “why do we need to expose the Blessed Sacrament, when, in fact, that same Blessed Sacrament is already exposed for us in the image of bruised, battered, broken body of the crucified Word made flesh? “

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5th Sunday of Lent

This Sunday’s Gospel is considerably long – it is the story of the death and raising to life of Lazarus, the brother of Martha and Mary. Proclaiming the story offers its own challenges, standing and listening I would well imagine offers considerably more!

Did you know Lazarus has his own website? For those with the slightest interest it  “is a Delphi compatible cross-platform IDE for Rapid Application Development. It has variety of components ready for use and a graphical form designer to easily create complex graphical user interfaces.” I have absolutely no idea what any of that means!!

However, back to our Gospel.

Elements of the story that have given me cause for reflection.

Firstly, the story is recounted only in the Gospel of St. John. I would have thought such an astonishing event would have been recorded ‘everywhere’. Today, such a miracle would have been front page news on Tik Tok, Instagram, Facebook, and media outlets worldwide! Why the silence on the part of Matthew, Mark, and Luke?

Secondly, while the story itself is long, maybe we could well compress the story to one sentence, and in fact two words – “Jesus wept”. While the story is indeed about Lazarus, it also affords me the opportunity to reflect on the response of Jesus. “Where have you laid him?” is the enquiry of Jesus, and when shown the sight, the immediate, spontaneous, response of Jesus is one of tears.

Tears are an integral part of our being human; they come as a response to joy, to happiness, to delight, to wonder, to awe. They come too as a response to deflation, to disappointment, to sadness, to pain, and to grief.

Tears are in fact an important part of the human persons  communication system – when the human vocabulary seems at a loss to express the feeling quality associated with an occasion or a person, the vocabulary of emotion takes over. Tears communicate all manner of feeling. This is communicated again in our Gospel story, “so the Jews said, ‘see how he loved him!’ “.

The third reflective point for myself is that all this happened in public! Jesus’ grief was overt, available for all to see! He was in fact a Jewish man exhibiting his Jewishness! As ‘mature’ Caucasians we are more inclined (though not all of us) to weep in private. Consider the number of movies you have watched where an adult begins to weep, grabs a hanky or a tissue and hurries from the room!

One of the after-effects of a stroke is that persons often experience emotional and behavioural changes. The reason is simple. Stroke impacts the brain, and the brain controls our behaviour and emotions. As a consequence, a person may well be sitting watching a TV programme, or listening to a piece of music, and quite spontaneously tears well up and roll down the cheeks (and inevitably there are others in the room!).

The final reflection point for myself is the request of Jesus, “unbind him, let him go free.” This request is given to those who had gathered at the burial site. Hold on a moment! I don’t mind standing at the place of burial! I don’t mind shedding a ‘private’ tear or two! However, getting that up close and personal?? “Unbind him, let him go free.” Ultimately, the individual’s freedom arrives when I unbind them!

Prints from other masters inspired Van Gogh during his stay at the hospital in Saint-Rémy, and he made his version of the Raising of Lazarus from an etching by Rembrandt (1642). With his ginger beard, Lazarus bears some resemblance to Van Gogh himself.

The painter may have seen a parallel between Lazarus’ return from the dead and his struggle from mental illness towards recovery.

Art critics note that Van Gogh’s depiction left out the central figure of Christ with his arm raised as is very evident in the painting by Rembrandt.

Note, however, the colour of each painting; for myself, Van Gogh has painted with the vibrancy of light. Rembrandt is dark and sombre. Possibly, the vibrancy of light in the Van Gogh painting is the new life of Christ experienced by Lazarus!

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4th Sunday of Lent

The illustration is a contemporary modern watercolour with the title, “Eyes Gazing”

When I was living and in ministry in the city of Christchurch I had the use of a small car to get me from A to B and on occasions even as far as O and P!

The car was nifty and ran well and being small was easy to park.

However, as the driver, I noticed the car had a blind spot!

The framework of the chassis which held the left front window in place prevented me, as the driver, with a clear vision, from looking for oncoming motorists, cyclists and indeed pedestrians.

I found myself becoming concerned and frustrated.

Eventually, I took the vehicle to the dealership and explained what I considered a major manufacturing fault.

The gentleman listened attentively, and then we went and examined the vehicle.

To my surprise ( and chagrin), the gentleman sat in the driver’s seat, moved the seat forward a little and suggested I myself take the seat, and as it says quite simply in this Sunday’s Gospel, “ he was able to see!” ( Jn 9:7).

This Sunday, the Gospel is the story of a blind man receiving his sight.

The story in the Gospel involves spittle, dust from the ground forming a paste, washing in the pool of Siloam, a testy encounter with the Pharisees, and indeed disbelief.

All I needed to do was make a small adjustment to my sitting position!

However, while it was easily managed in the motor vehicle, in life, the shift maybe a little more difficult.

Where I sit and/or stand gives me a certain viewpoint; however, it may also provide a “blind spot”.

A blind spot is an obscuration of the visual field.

One could get all technical; however, from a medical point of view, it concerns the lack of light-detecting cells.

Perhaps from a Christian living viewpoint (or lack of!) if I sit or stand in the same place, I may in fact be preventing the light from penetrating, thus promoting a “blind spot”.

At the end of the Gospel, Jesus says, “ I came into this world, so that those who do not see, may see.” (Jn 9:39)

The illustration is a contemporary modern watercolour with the title, “Eyes Gazing”