by Unvirtuous Abbey
Gospel Reading: Luke 22:14—23:56
For Sunday, March 24, 2013—Sunday of the Passion
A particular funeral stands out for me for a few reasons. It was for a local drug dealer and thief, who had multiple girlfriends, a son, and quite a few enemies. There was a police presence at the wake. The funeral home had to do a “partial embalming” because of the health risks to the embalmers. He was buried in his sunglasses and favourite football jersey.
As I stood there, after the final prayers and before they closed the casket, I thought to myself, “So this is who was on the other cross.” One thief asked Jesus to remember him, the other one didn’t. This was the other one, the one who mocked Jesus and asked him to save himself, and them.
At the service I announced to the people gathered in the two hundred year old funeral chapel, “Our first hymn will be Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.” That song is six minutes and twenty three seconds long. That’s a lot of time for crying, but we all agreed it was the right one.
Because it was winter, we had a spring burial. I had been called for a graveside service and when we arrived, the young funeral home director turned to me and said, “Keep it short. The body has turned.”
I kept it short. Yet, standing there with the tears of his family and friends, washing their grief and his soul, I thought, “He is now pure.” As I stood there, with his three former girlfriends, I noted that we all need people to stand at our grave and weep. Even the thieves executed beside Jesus had people to grieve them despite their presumed guilt. And this young man had three exes who mourned him. Someone had to, right?
The women who had followed…stood…
Crucifixion was the most common form of state execution in Jesus’ time, yet we remember the name of just one person who was crucified. The women who had “followed, and stood,” were unlike the disciples, who freaked out and ran.
There was a task to complete. They were to prepare the body for burial. In this tradition, the preparation of the body of an observant Jew is usually done by people of the same gender; however, given the flight of the disciples, this sacred task fell to the women who followed Jesus, every bit as much disciples as the men. It was Mary who had anointed Jesus for his burial with perfume and her hair. And now, with water and tears, in the moment Jesus truly understood what it means to be human, they cared for his body, one final remarkable act as these women care for his body. To be human means to succumb to death. And because Jesus does this, he ultimately understands what it means to be like us, because he is one of us.
10,000 Angels?
I’m not sure what happened on the cross that day. But I do believe it shook the world of the people around the dying Jesus.
I remember debating with a minister who argued that Jesus “could have called 10,000 angels” to help him off of the cross. But, in my opinion, if Jesus is to understand what it means to be truly and fully human, then he has to know what it means to not be able to get off of the cross, or to stop the nails, or to feel his lungs asphyxiate as the weight of his body is pressed against the wounds of crucifixion. For me, in that precise moment, that’s when Jesus becomes Christ.
It is the image of Jesus with AIDS. It’s the idea of Jesus receiving chemo. We’ve so much confused Jesus with Superman that we forget that he was fully divine, and fully human.
The Hardest Question
Was Jesus “Christ” at birth, or does he become “Christ” after his crucifixion and resurrection? When does ‘Jesus’ become ‘Christ’ for you?
Unvirtuous Abbey appeared on the Twitter scene on August 6th, 2010. They are a slightly sarcastic, yet hopeful, group of monks. They try to elevate the conversation with humorous tweets about the Bible, God, and Jesus. They also pray about geeks, Guns and Roses, and Charlie Sheen. They have been interviewed by The Times -Union, The Practical Catholic and the Virtual Abbey. They consider themselves lucky to be among the guest bloggers of "The Hardest Question" and readily trade chores for the chance to write...anonymously, of course.
