Good Friday

My most recent post highlighted logical reasons for believing that the resurrection of Jesus actually occurred, and why Christians should not be sheepish about saying so.

Yesterday was Holy Thursday (sometimes called Maundy Thursday) which commemorates the Last Supper, and today is Good Friday which commemorates Jesus's trial, scourging, and crucifixion.

The specific year in which those events took place is up for debate, seeing as how the BC/AD delineation (or BCE/CE, if you prefer) was not yet devised, but it's almost certain that it was sometime between 30 and 38 AD. Regardless of the year, the overlapping nighttime hours between the events are when Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane and Judas betrayed him in exchange for thirty pieces of silver.

There have been several times I've been in conversation about the importance of prayer and have pointed to a scene from the Gospel of Luke in which, the day before Jesus chose his twelve disciples, he "went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God." I've basically said "he's Jesus, if even he needs to pray, and pray all night, then surely we need to pray too." But as important as that example of praying is, I don't know why I usually cite it instead of the example in Gethsemane -- for the latter is probably the most poignant moment in the entire Bible.

Because we get so hung up on the idea of Jesus being divine, we tend to forget that he was also fully human while he was here on Earth. He was trapped, as it were, in a human body with all of its limitations and frailties, and therefore with much of the trepidation that can result from those limitations and frailties.

Jesus felt pain just like us, and needed rest just like us. His bones could be broken, his skin torn, his arteries ruptured, etc.

It is significant that he did not sin, but the reason that's significant is that he pulled it off while still subject to the lures of temptation.

Because Jesus was born a baby and had to grow up, he was not born with a brain that already knew his divine nature. That was something he would need to learn as he grew, and it is not clear if he had learned it before he was 12 and Mary and Joseph found him in the temple.

He felt joy and sadness -- John 11:35 famously records that upon the death of Lazarus, "Jesus wept" -- and, yes, he even felt fear, which fueled his prayer in Gethsemane. Knowing the unthinkably terrifying pain that awaited him the following day, Jesus described himself as "overwhelmed" and asked his disciples to "stay here and keep watch with me." Then he walked "a little farther" and "fell with his face to the ground and prayed, 'My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.'"

Thus he asked to be spared from crucifixion, despite knowing full well that crucifixion was the whole reason he was sent here and born of Mary. In fact he asked three times that night to be spared, yet concluded his praying with resignation by saying: "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."

It is a moment unlike any other in history. In our modern age, it is best captured by this scene from The Passion of the Christ. It's too easy for us to forget about the fact of Jesus's humanity, and sometimes it's difficult to force ourselves to think about just what his humanity meant; but when you watch that movie, especially the scene I just linked to and this scene of him being whipped, there is no way to avoid thinking about his humanity and suffering.

On this Good Friday (and frankly, on every other day as well) we should remember Jesus's torment and the reason he willingly endured it. We should appreciate that gift and indulge in it.

And as I was getting at earlier, we should remember that prayer is also a divine gift, one that Jesus himself saw need to use, so we should appreciate that gift and indulge in it too.

I have recently been reading Meditations on the Passion and Death of Christ, which was written in the 1860's by somebody I had not heard of until a few weeks ago: Father Ignazio del Costato di Gesu. I don't know if it's the Catholicism or the 1860's authorship that makes its reading seem more slow and its wording more flowery than I am accustomed to -- it's probably both -- but it is definitely worth the read, and on page 17 it contains a sentence that strikes me as something every human being needs to read and commit to memory: "The slightest trouble, or the most unimportant business, distracts you from prayer, and the consequences of neglecting to strengthen your soul with that heavenly food is that you become weak and languid, sink down, and fall into sin."

I can't say it in any better than that, so I won't try.

Have a happy, reflective, and thankful Easter weekend everyone.