Living life in peace
You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Is that not hunky dory?
In a global village tormented and torn by incompatible truth claims, the suggestion of John Lennon is tantalisingly seductive. Would it not be nice if we could just get along with each other. As it is, religion is offensive enough, what more a religion that glorifies an implement of torture? It begs the question why so many are here today—the one day in a year when Mass is never celebrated.
Why do we want to venerate the Cross?
Even if we could achieve John Lennon’s vision of a perfect world—no more hunger, no more war and no more killing—it still does not address the elephant in this cavernous cathedral—the certainty of death and its constant companion—suffering. For even our dear Lazarus, raised from the dead, was not spared the inevitability of death. He died, again, thus reminding us that mortality accompanied by suffering, is our earthly destiny.
Suffering and death do make the Cross we venerate a scandal, an obstacle, a given, which we try to ignore at best and to rebel against at worst. We ignore it by numbing ourselves through overconsumption—food, drinks, entertainment or recreational sex. If not, the irony is that we become schizophrenic rebels without realising it. We all cherish our freedom. We loathe interference because we are sticklers for self-determination. But, this autonomy presumes that the world is congenially perfect. In fact, we are fiercely autonomous that we need a god whose existence is to ensure that nothing untowards should happen. Is that not so?
Instinctively we recognise that the world is grossly imperfect. However this imperfection is swept away by a deity whom the Greeks would call “deus ex machina”—like what you see in movies, where an entity—a thing or a person appears suddenly and unexpectedly providing a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty. The sociologists termed this as a “god” of MTD—moralistic therapeutic deism—a deity whose duty is to do our bidding. And for certainty, we put in a little prayer with the expectation that “it” should fulfil our requests. In short, we want a therapist god who makes us feel good about ourselves. And “it” better fulfil what we ask for because we pray.
However, this is not the God we hear in the first reading or the Gospel. The contrary is this God of the Son of Man who for the sins of others was made to suffer. He was innocent yet He was pierced for our fault and crushed for our sins. He suffered and died so that those who are afflicted by the certainty of death might be consoled by the promise of immortality.
For, something is definitely wrong with the world, not because God is an imperfect creator. Rather, we need to acknowledge that for freedom to be soveriegn, that is, to be truly what it is, freedom must include the possibility of turning in on itself—a form of self-destructive behaviour. This accounts for the brokenness of the world. Despite that, Jesus Christ embraced our vitiated nature. The Sinless One has taken our sins upon Himself giving us hope that all is not lost. Hence, in this innocent Man, death is not faced with hopelessness. In Him, the Cross has become the powerful instrument whereby life is ransomed back. In a world which can sometimes feel overwhelmingly hopeless, we find consolation in the lone figure who dared to walk into the arena contending with death knowing that death is not the final word.
Jesus’ final moments with his disciples were marked not by support but by terrifying isolation and even denial by Judas and Peter. Amongst us, some may have cancer. Others may have a loved one incapacitated by sudden illness or snatched away by unexpected death. You may be extremely lonely from failed relationships. Whatever the situation, the fear of abandonment in our time of need definitely makes suffering more acute. But, in the Cross, we will not suffer and die alone. In the Cross, Jesus is with us. He will not be a deity of the deus ex machina. Instead, He will be a God with us for “it is not as if we had a high priest who was incapable of feeling our weakness with us; but we have one who has been tempted in every way that we are, though he is without sin.”
Hanging the Cross, He says to us, “Trust in God, trust in me still”. I have conquered and I will conquer again.
Let us adore Him, our hope and our salvation.
