The thrill of the center burns with the same pace and friction as the beginning and end, though it lacks motivation of entry and pressure. The semester here has crested into a middle ground between entry and exit and somehow I am hoping coffee might miracle my manic, fear and frustration that accompany too much to do and too little time.
This year March hosted the passion and resurrection of Jesus, at least its memory and celebration, and for a moment offered a massive kind of reprieve from the daily grind. The whole month in a small sense was directed at this event with Lent an important part of things in Christian circles here, so I felt the force of the holiday with a bit more awareness than I have in previous years.
While the progress of the month drew on other time-line worthy elements, I found myself wandering with pilgrims of all sorts from Bethphage to Lions gate on Palm Sunday. I walked from the Western Hill to Gethsemane, and then to the Herodian quarter on Maundy Thursday. A group from school made sure to visit the Holy Sepulchre on Good Friday, watch a Holy-fire Catholic procession in the Christian quarter on Holy Saturday, and then wake up for a sunrise service on the Mount of Olives Resurrection Sunday, which were followed by visits to the Garden Tomb and the Holy Sep, once again.
This Maundy Thursday, I was struck by the ominous night lit bright with a full moon and so littered with shadows. Remember Passover follows a lunar calendar and is therefore set on a full moon in Nisan. Jesus would have made his way from an upper room dinner somewhere on the Western Hill in Jerusalem to a garden space somewhere east of the Kidron Valley. And so we followed a similar itinerary and read Luke's account in its corresponding setting having chosen to walk about at a corresponding hour. The four cups of wine, thanksgiving-type dinner, and usual nature of feast time leisure would have been reason enough for the disciples to have struggled with understanding why staying awake at midnight would have been helpful and appropriate.
Along with these physical setting and contextual factors or maybe because of them, I found myself identifying with Peter's character. Peter's unwitting humanity full of relentless presence was emblazoned onto my psyche as I heard countless cock crows. Think of it, the last time that you see your most trusted mentor, he is carried away as a shameful castaway, seemingly discredited publicly by nature of an horrific execution. This, after you look heavy into his eyes after having denied any sort of meaningful connection with one who solicited your loyalties and then you hear it. Would you not also find yourself conflicted? Remember, it’s not as if the disciples were seated together on Saturday waiting on Sunday to come 'round and it’s not as if cocks only crow on time, if you will. Failure would have been the mark of the whole rigmarole. That of dating a giant only to find out he comes down with a stone or investing in promising stocks only to watch the whole enterprise crumble with your contribution among the whole.
Also, thanks to Danny Kopp's reflections on Saturday morning, I found myself deeply moved by Jesus' interactions with the thieves and how the whole narrative follows. Three apparent failures expelling last breaths close enough to be heard one by the other: one mutilated ex-Messiah figure and two thieves. The one mocks and the other asks to be remembered. Jesus follows with promise that must have sounded just as foolish to onlookers as to the mocking miscreant, "Today, you will be with me in paradise". This is truly compatible with his message, after all, he had said to Pilate he was born to die and earlier he had said this was to save sinners from their sins. However, it looks so confounding and pathetic that you can empathize with the disciples despair and the thief's mockery. Instead, I found myself identifying with this deserving reject who has come to terms with the reality of his situation. He has come to his end without anything and finds a figure that warrants his trust. The thief understands Jesus doesn't deserve the death he is dying and he sees reason to believe that this "King of the Jews" indeed has a kingdom.
It's here that these gospel stories take on real character and substance for me. Where I can identify with figures of the past and their estrange sentiments, thoughts and emotions. They are, after all, clothed in more flesh and blood than I had realized... more than cantata drama all told in graphic detail in their respective accounts. They all tell of a God-man that figures into a heritage and tradition selected to be a light among the nations only to live a life that men should have lived, pay a debt for failing, as we do, and procure a promise for those who believed, believe and will believe.
This, of course, is dependent upon the resurrection. Without it, the whole exercise in sacrifice stands for very little. God raised him from the dead. For those who believe, this is the greatest news in the world, for those who don't its either a stumbling block or a bit of rubbish, that's all… perhaps, a good story with a crazy revolutionary, but hardly a Gospel that warrants any kind of attachment. Can you now understand the panic and haste embodied by Peter and co. as they run to the tomb? Can you begin to appreciate why their hearts would have burned within them as they make sense of the peculiarity and necessity of his death? It made all the difference in the world for them... and for me.
I thought it worthwhile to share a few reflections from the month seeing as it was full on all kinds of activities and celebrations; however sensational or boring. My March started off with a half-marathon, entertained six tours and pressed on with the normal: volunteering, work and school. This, as I continue to look for a teaching placement or other work for this up and coming summer and fall. Your encouragement along the way has been extraordinarily meaningful to me. Know that I am deeply thankful for the generosity that has been extended. As always, I am grateful for your prayers and support!
Love,
Seth
