The Magic of Good Friday

It was sunny when you first joined the line in the Outer Court, but you've finally made it inside the temple just as it clouded over.  The crowds, the noise, the heat, dodging the endless processions of criminals going to Golgotha has made for a very long day. You've come to offer your sacrifice to the priest, and on the far side of the room you see The Curtain. The curtain is there for your benefit, it shields you from the holiness of your God who lives on the other side - the God who has chosen you and your people, set you apart, protected you, guided you, provided for your every need. The God who will one day set you free, vindicating you before all nations, and declaring you righteous. Then ... a vibration, ever so slight at first, felt only in the soles of your feet. It continues to strengthen until you need to reach out for something, anything, to maintain your balance. The noise builds with it. The sound of falling stones offends your ears. Panic sets in. Then you hear it: A sound you can't quite place. It starts off softly, quickly intensifying, until your sure it's going to violate your very soul. It's close.

Very close.

You first catch sight of it out of the corner of your eye. The Curtain. The curtain is torn wide open - from top to bottom. Instinctively you look away. You've been told your whole life that if you could see behind the curtain you'd be blinded, if not killed. But you can't help yourself. You steal a quick look, hoping it's fast enough you don't get caught. Before you know it you're on your knees in debilitating disbelief, and your stomach is trying to leave your body through your mouth. What you see behind the curtain is ... nothing: No searing light, no chorus of angels, no heavenly presence on a throne - nothing but a slightly raised section of floor and an incense burner. Like a magician pulls the curtain aside to reveal the empty box where his beautiful assistant once stood, your god is gone.

Or was he ever there?

The traditional explanation for the curtain tearing says it's God's way of showing there's no longer any separation between God and man; we are free to approach God without a mediator. But Peter Rollins and Jay Bakker have another take. Jay explains it like this. What if the point of tearing the curtain in two was to expose the fact that there's nothing there, and never was: that any illusion we've created about God is just that - an illusion. Once faced with the fallacy of this god, the question then becomes, which god are we going to believe in. Maybe destroying the curtain was to show the god of the good parking space, the miraculous healing, the lid for every pot, the hedge of protection - the god we've so carefully created in our image - doesn't exist. But the God of self sacrificing love does. He's the one hanging on the cross.

He's the one to follow.

Wives and Sweethearts

In the movie Master and Commander, captain Jack Aubrey, played by Russell Crowe, is hosting a dinner in the great cabin of his ship. In the cabin are the ship’s officers and a few select guests, all male, ranging in age from about 14 to 70. As is the custom at these meals, after which they have consumed copious amount of food and wine, there is a series of toasts. 

Captain Jack stands up and says, "Gentlemen a toast."

The room goes quite.

"To wives and sweethearts..."

"Aye aye" the men murmur in agreement as they raise their cups.

Then, with a whimsical note in his voice he adds, "...may they never meet!"

To which all the men break out in raucous laughter.

When I was younger - much younger - before meeting my wife, I went out with a girl for about 2 years. Back then I'm afraid I was a bit of a jerk, and I didn't treat her very nice. It  wasn’t really intentional, I was just stupid. Over the years I have often felt bad about this, and thought that if I ever had the chance, I would apologize to her. Once or twice I even went so far as to make a half hearted attempt to find her, but without knowing her married name it seemed impossible.

Last year about this time I was putting the boat away for the winter. It takes a couple of days, and during my off time I was reading NT Wrights book, "The Lord and His Prayer". It was probably during the section on “thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” I realized that if I really believed all this stuff then I HAD to find her and apologize. But it wasn’t a sort of I-should-get-around-to-doing-that-some-day kind of feeling. I was driven. I haven’t felt that compelled to do something for longer than  I can remember.

Given that I have a tremendous grasp of the obvious, shortly after starting my quest it dawned on me that I was going to get myself into a lot of trouble if my wife found out. So I told her.  She was incredibly understanding and wonderfully supported me through the whole thing. 

It took about 3 weeks of obsessive searching before I found her, including contact with her brother-in-law, which I will elaborate on in a bit. We exchanged a couple of emails and even talked on the phone for a few minutes. She was very gracious and did extend forgiveness. 

Some might be wondering at this stage why I am telling this story. I mean, ultimately, it doesn't cast me in a very good light. But there are actually three reasons.

The first reason is that if you believe that being a Christian is about living out the kingdom of god, that we are all called to be imitators of Christ, that “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” is more than just a phrase you say during communion, then I tell this story to encourage you. This whole story could have gone sideways and ended very badly. I understand that, I was prepared for it, and I’m glad it didn’t. But even if it had gone sideways, it was still the right thing to do. Because ultimately I knew I had done all I could to bring reconciliation. 

The second reason is related to the first. At one point my quest lead me to her brother-in-law who, it turns out, is a minister.  I explained my situation to him, via email, as best I could without revealing too much, and appealed to his pastoral instincts to put me in touch with her. To a certain extent I understand his reasoning, but despite the fact that there were ways for me to get my message to her without knowing where she was, he refused. Using such platitudes as “leave it in gods hands” and “it probably means more to you than her” etc. So my second reason for the story is to let you know that even if you do try to do the right thing, there are those within the religious community that will oppose you. They may even be leaders in the church - people who should be leading by example. And you should be prepared for that.  

The third reason is to start a conversation. Not necessarily about my particular circumstance, but about what it means to be a Christian. I think that if we take this Christian thing seriously we need to start talking to each other, and exploring what that means. We need to talk about our successes and our failures because that’s how we really learn. I think that Christianity has gone so long, and strayed so far, from it’s original intent, that we don't know what it means anymore, and we need each other to rediscover and explore the forgotten arts of christianity - arts such as humility, forgiveness, compassion, acceptance and many others. 

The wheels are in the box - or - Do as I say, not as I do

Did you ever have one of those moments where you think to yourself; "What was I thinking?" I usually have little moments like that, but the other day I had a bigger one.

It was pre-Christmas, and I was wandering through Costco looking for something specific (as if that justifies it). It was packed with shoppers and getting worse by the minute. Actually, to say wandering is a bit misleading, it was more like a speed walking at the olympics.

At one point I went past the section where they have all the bulky items that they don't really sell a lot of; things like mixers, filing cabinets - you know what I mean. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a smallish woman coming out of that section, struggling with a fairly large box.

She doesn't have a cart.

I assume she is heading towards the checkouts - I'm not. I remember thinking to myself; "Why doesn't she get a cart?" So I shrug my shoulders, and continue my search.

I get to the area that I think my item is going to be, but it's not. Growing more frustrated, it occurs to me that there is an area close to the checkouts where it might be, so I head that direction.

On my way to the checkouts I come across the same woman and she is obviously still struggling. We are now side by side. I look at her. She looks at me. We smile. I see that what she is struggling with is a set of luggage in a box. Then I say to her; "You know they have wheels?" She politely laughs and says; "Yes, but they're in the box".

We part company.

I find what I am looking for eventually, and leave Costco. It's not until I'm half way home that I realize what an idiot I am. I spout all this nonsense on this blog, and to anyone who will listen, that we need to reflect the image of Christ. That we are in this world to make a difference. Blah, blah, blah. But when I have an opportunity to live that - and do one small act of kindness - not only do I not do it, but I mock the person instead! I could have easily helped her; I didn't even have to go out of my way!

Ok, so, read previous post. God doesn't care about who I was, only who I am. I think I'll get into the lotus position and chant that mantra for a couple of hours. Maybe it'll make a difference.

How about you? Ever had one of those brain farts where you actions just don't fit your beliefs?