Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised. Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay all according to his conduct.”
I experience a growing sense of sadness as Ash Wednesday approaches each year. The sadness and regret continue to deepen the closer we get to the Passion. The cause of my discomfort? It is the fact Jesus experienced scourging, beatings, belittlement and ridicule right up to where he was forced to drag the cross upon which he would be crucified to Golgotha. There, he was nailed to the cross and left to suffer as difficult a death as humans can conjure up from the depths of unspeakable evil and then inflict on a living person.
I always question why our faith must be rooted in such an awful event. There had to be, must be a better way to bring us to salvation and life after death than the death Jesus endured. I always viewed my dismay at the death of Jesus as being altruistic. As a person intending to consider the best interest of others, my focus was on the experience of Jesus. I thought there must have been a way for God to work his plan without suffering and crucifixion. Who among us would not wish for Jesus to be spared if there was a way to do so? No one, I would dare say. The disconnect, however, was pursuing that line of investigation put me in the shoes of Peter who was the first to attempt to circumvent the imperative of salvation that requires sacrifice and atonement.
By dreaming up ways to get around the death of Jesus even though all we might accomplish was a less painful ordeal, we were acting as though Satan influenced us. That scares me. A genuine desire to prevent the torture of another can’t be evil. Can it? A simple reading of this passage establishes how what seems beneficial on the surface belies an awful truth that lies beneath the obvious.
During my pilgrimage through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, I uncovered a truth about myself that initially seemed ugly. I was not altruistic about wanting to prevent Jesus from suffering. Instead, my wishes were all about me. Instead of a positive intent, the real intention was to prevent me from contemplating that Jesus's death was as much about me as anyone else at the time of the passion and sense. He died for me and my sins and it is impossible to separate myself from the common and universal fact no one comes to God except through Jesus and there is no way for that to happen other than the way it did.
I have no choice but to accept that he died for me, but rather than feel responsible and ashamed, I should experience profound relief and gratitude. He died for ME. Even if I doubt it for myself, he finds me worthy of his love and salvation just because I exist and because it is how he is. No one deserves salvation. We all bear responsibility for his death, but ultimately, his death was about sacrifice and redemption.
I am curious to see if I can refocus my thoughts this year as Lent progresses to accept the unbelievable gift of love and life.
I experience a growing sense of sadness as Ash Wednesday approaches each year. The sadness and regret continue to deepen the closer we get to the Passion. The cause of my discomfort? It is the fact Jesus experienced scourging, beatings, belittlement and ridicule right up to where he was forced to drag the cross upon which he would be crucified to Golgotha. There, he was nailed to the cross and left to suffer as difficult a death as humans can conjure up from the depths of unspeakable evil and then inflict on a living person.
I always question why our faith must be rooted in such an awful event. There had to be, must be a better way to bring us to salvation and life after death than the death Jesus endured. I always viewed my dismay at the death of Jesus as being altruistic. As a person intending to consider the best interest of others, my focus was on the experience of Jesus. I thought there must have been a way for God to work his plan without suffering and crucifixion. Who among us would not wish for Jesus to be spared if there was a way to do so? No one, I would dare say. The disconnect, however, was pursuing that line of investigation put me in the shoes of Peter who was the first to attempt to circumvent the imperative of salvation that requires sacrifice and atonement.
By dreaming up ways to get around the death of Jesus even though all we might accomplish was a less painful ordeal, we were acting as though Satan influenced us. That scares me. A genuine desire to prevent the torture of another can’t be evil. Can it? A simple reading of this passage establishes how what seems beneficial on the surface belies an awful truth that lies beneath the obvious.
During my pilgrimage through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, I uncovered a truth about myself that initially seemed ugly. I was not altruistic about wanting to prevent Jesus from suffering. Instead, my wishes were all about me. Instead of a positive intent, the real intention was to prevent me from contemplating that Jesus's death was as much about me as anyone else at the time of the passion and sense. He died for me and my sins and it is impossible to separate myself from the common and universal fact no one comes to God except through Jesus and there is no way for that to happen other than the way it did.
I have no choice but to accept that he died for me, but rather than feel responsible and ashamed, I should experience profound relief and gratitude. He died for ME. Even if I doubt it for myself, he finds me worthy of his love and salvation just because I exist and because it is how he is. No one deserves salvation. We all bear responsibility for his death, but ultimately, his death was about sacrifice and redemption.
I am curious to see if I can refocus my thoughts this year as Lent progresses to accept the unbelievable gift of love and life.
