Showing posts with label Jesus Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus Christ. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Station III: Vulnerable

"Station III", painting by Chris Gollon
Commissioned in 2000 by
St. John on Bethnal Green, London
Scripture Passage:  Matthew 7:25
The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock.

The third station of this Way of the Cross is the image of Jesus falling under the weight of the cross.  It is one of the non-Canonical stations and yet we know that the sheer exhaustion alone would be enough to make this a reality for any human.  That's right.  Lest we forget, Jesus was human.  God did not come to earth to live as a figure resembling one of our super heroes, above the fray, untouchable, undaunted by the difficulties of human life.  No, God came as one of us, struggling and vulnerable.  And as Jesus falls, we feel that vulnerability.  It is uncomfortable for us.  After all, if this one on whom we rely, in whom we place all of our hopes and our dreams, is vulnerable, what does that say about out own lives?

Maybe the crux of this Walk is that we ARE supposed to be vulnerable.  Living a life of faith does not place some sort of impermeable bubble around us.  Regardless of what many will tell you, walking this walk does not guarantee that you will be healthy, wealthy, and wise.  If anything, it points to our vulnerability in the most profound way.  As humans, we will at times experience sadness, despair, and the deepest grief imagineable.  We experience those not because we are weak but because we are real.  And Jesus experienced the same thing because he, too, was real.  And, when you think about it, what kind of God is it who will plunge the Divine Self into the deepest of despair and the vulnerability?  It is the kind of God that does more than pull us out of it but rather lays at the bottom of it all and cradles us until it subsides.  But we will only experience that when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, when we allow ourselves to be real, when we finally allow ourselves to need others, to let them in to our darkness.

This depiction of Jesus falling under the weight of the Cross affirms that vulnerability is part of us.  It also compels us toward the vulnerable, the hurting, the outcast, for it is there that we will find in ourselves empathy and compassion, and, finally, a Love greater than we thought we could have.  If we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, we will be able to see the same in others.  We are not called to become a Super Hero; we are called to cross boundaries and be Christ for others when they need it the most and, perhaps with even greater faith than that, we are called to let others into our grief and pain.  We are the ones who both lift the fallen and allow ourselves to be lifted.  Sometimes we will fall.  Sometimes life will hurt.  But we are never there alone.  But it takes great faith to know that.

Jesus will fall two more times on this Walk.  Life goes on.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli  

Saturday, March 31, 2012

It is Time to Go to Jerusalem...

It is time.  It is time to go to Jerusalem...

There's a part of me that wants to go back, wants to stay in Galilee where it is green and lush and safe.  But now is the time.  The tide has turned and I have to go.  It's hard because there is, oh, so much more to do.  It's hard because I don't think they're ready.  I'm worried that they're still a little bit too worried about themselves, about which one of them is the most important, about who belongs with them, about who is acceptable.  I'm worried that they don't get along with each other, that they're more concerned about their own safety and their own security and their own place in life than what they're called to do.  I'm worried that they're still just a little bit too attached to the rules of religion that sometimes they forget to follow with awe and wonder and the joy of what each moment holds.  I'm worried that it will become about religion rather than people, about order rather than children of God, about agendas and issues and which "side" one is on rather than about You.  I'm worried that they'll forget who they are.  I'm worried that they will forget that we are all children of God, that we are all called to be a part of this Kingdom. 

Lake of Galilee
(Tiberius, February, 2010)
Ruins of the Synogogue
Capernaum, Galilee, Israel
When life changes like this, when you know that going forward is the only direction to go, you can't help but become a little sentimental about the past.  It's good to remember.  It's good to give thanks for all those rich and wonderful memories that carry you forward.  So all those family pictures and images come flooding into my mind.  I remember those days around the lake when they were all so excited about the newness of it all, when they were all so sure that this was the direction that their lives should take, when they all willingly left the lives that they had built behind and went forward into the unknown, when their faith was new and full of hope.  I remember the gatherings when so many would come, when so many hope-filled faces searching for something to give their life meaning.  I remember meals together as we shared with one another.  I remember standing in the synagogue with the sun beating down and all the town stopping, if only for a moment, to listen.

Judean Wilderness near
Jerusalem
(February, 2010)
But things change.  Life marches on whether or not we're ready to go.  Out here in the wilderness, I'm reminded of that time such a short few years ago when I was here alone.  I remember being out here and being a little scared and unsure, a little tempted to turn toward something else, but so filled with faith and so aware of Your Presence with me.  It is strange that now, traveling through that same foreboding place, I am not alone and, yet, I feel so lonely.  They have no idea.  They have no sense of what we're probably walking into.  The news coming out of the city is not good.  The political climate is really not very stable, not very welcoming of any change.  The political rhetoric has become very centered on what is best for the "me's" of the world and has forgotten that we are all here together as children of God.  I suppose when we get there, there will be the faithful few that will greet us.  But I doubt they'll stay.  I doubt they'll stay when they realize how dangerous this really is.  And these with me--my brothers and sisters, my good friends, those whom I so dearly love, I'm not sure how much they can take.  I'm not sure if they can stand strong and faithful against what is to come.  I think there's a good chance that I am in this alone. 

But I know that You are with me.  I know that You will never desert me.  And I know that You are with them.  Keep them safe.  Remind them how very much they are loved.  And give them strength.  There is, oh, so much work left to do.

It is time.  It is time to go to Jerusalem...
The gates of the city are just up ahead.  There is no other way around.  This is not an easy journey.  But it one that all of must walk.  As you enter this Holiest of Weeks, what do you need to leave behind?  And what do you need to carry into the city?


Grace and Peace,

Shelli