Death as the Last Enemy: On the Relationship of God to Death (Reprise)

[[Dear Sister, I read something you wrote about God not willing the torture and death of Jesus. (I'm sorry for being vague here; I can't cut and paste from your blog.) That was not what I was taught. In fact, I was told when at different times two of my children died of serious illness that God "had taken them" and also was reminded that I should not be angry with God because after all, "he had not spared his only begotten Son." Are you saying that God does not will our deaths either? That God did not take my daughters from me? And if God did not do this, then where are my children? What hope do any of us have??!!]]

First, I am terribly sorry for your loss!! Please know I will hold you in my own heart and prayer. Meanwhile, yes, I have written that Jesus' torture and death by crucifixion were not willed by God; these were inhuman acts dreamt up and made as sophisticated and ingenious a way of killing someone in horrendous torture --- i.e., in as unspeakable degradation, pain, and shame, as was (in)humanly possible. The first thing I think we must accept is that our God is a God of love and life and that, as Paul tells us, death is the last enemy to be brought under God's feet (1Cor 15:25-26). What God is is Love-in-Act and what God wills is life, abundant, integral life in dialogue and union with Himself. He does not will the death of anyone, including his only begotten Son. 

The second thing we must see and embrace then, is a somewhat different way of understanding Jesus' prayer and God's silence in the Garden of Gethsemane. Remember that there Jesus prays three times that his Abba allow this cup to pass him by. He does not pray that the cup not be given him by his Abba, but that God would remove it if possible. It is possible here to hear Jesus struggling in the presence of the One he loves and is loved by  best --- the One who always hears him --- to find another way forward, another way to live his life and vocation with integrity without running headfirst into the powers that will kill him --- and this includes not only the religious and political authorities, but the powers of sin and death as well. But God does not remove or take from Jesus the cup of integrity --- the cup of a life lived with integrity in dialogue with God for the sake of others and drunk to its very dregs. 

Does God will Jesus' horrendous and shameful death by torture and/or crucifixion? No. We can't accept he does nor does any text say this specifically is the will of God. To believe it is the will of God is to accept as well that those who betrayed, rejected, lied about, abandoned, spat upon, tortured, and executed Jesus were fully cooperating with the will of God. That is simply impossible, and if true, would give us a God few of us could believe in or trust. Where is the "good news" in that? To struggle in the way Jesus does in Gethsemane is to engage with God in order to come to terms with God's actual will; here Jesus struggles to come to clarity about and embrace fully what it means to live one's life and vocation with complete and exhaustive integrity --- especially when that life/vocation is defined in terms of dialogue with and complete dependence upon God. Jesus' life certainly is about this and our own lives are meant to be the same. It is not Jesus' torture and death that God wills but his absolute integrity and exhaustively authentic God-dependent humanity. This is the cup God cannot, and will not remove from him.

In Jesus' passion, we must learn to tease apart the things that are of man, and especially of man's inhumanity versus what is authentically human, and those which are truly of God or are the will of God. What I find of God in the crucifixion is the affirmation and reassurance that God, the One Jesus calls Abba, does not despise even the most godless of situations, places, persons, and events. Our God is the one is who absolutely determined to be found in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Jesus, precisely as truly and authentically human, reveals this God to us and in the power of the Holy Spirit lives his life and speaks truth to power in a way which means that God does not despise the godless places in our lives; they are, in fact, the places God chooses to reveal his love and mercy most exhaustively.

Regarding the things of mankind, there are two aspects we must be able to see in Jesus' passion and death: first, there are the inhuman or less than truly human actions and attitudes of most of the actors in the narrative. These have to do with all the things I mentioned above in the second paragraph and several more besides -- the hunger for power and the correlative thirst for control at the expense of others, the fear associated with life in such a society for those who are diminished, oppressed, and exploited, the tendency to join in when a mob yells angry, bloodthirsty, and thoughtless slogans because otherwise we feel powerless, have no true sense of ourselves or of  genuinely belonging, and believe we can achieve these things by joining ourselves to such groups even when that leads us to harm others. All of these tend to dehumanize us. The instances of inhuman and dehumanizing behavior and attitudes in the passion narratives are legion. 

Secondly, there are examples of true or authentic humanity, human humility, integrity, faithfulness, generosity, and courage. Jesus is the primary exemplar here, but the beloved disciple, Jesus' Mother, and a few other women along with Joseph of Arimathea and the Centurion who proclaims Jesus the Christ/ Son of God are also participants modeling some of these virtues and dimensions of authentic humanity. What is especially true of authentic humanity is the way it is entirely transparent to God --- something I believe Catholic Christological dogma tried to express in the non-paradoxical language of hypostases, etc. So, the more truly human one is, the more transparent to God. And because this is so, when we see Jesus' helplessness, weakness, shame, brokenness, and so forth, we should also be able to see the paradoxical power of love that does not despise weakness, brokenness, or anything else that might once have been a sign of God's disfavor and absence. Instead, in the crucified Christ God makes these his own and there on the cross heaven and earth are drawn together in the very heart of Jesus precisely as crucified. (cf., 2 Cor 12:8-9 "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.")

The Good News of the Cross

For purposes of this essay, again, it is critically important to remember that death is not some sort of weapon God wields to punish, but again, is an event linked consequentially to estrangement and alienation from God, self, and others.  As noted above, it, along with Sin, is a power or principality which is a consequence of human sinfulness which Paul identifies as the last enemy to be put under the feet of God. It is imperative that we understand death, and especially what the NT calls "eternal death,"  "sinful death," or again, "godless death," as something linked to sinfulness with which God contends. God does this throughout the history of Israel's struggle against idolatry and he does it in Jesus' miracles, exorcisms, and in every other choice for life and love which Jesus makes on God's and others' behalf.  

What Paul also tells us is that the cross is precisely the place where God's ultimate victory over the powers of sin and death is won. It is the place where humans beings do their worst to an innocent other and it is a place where authentic humanity is made definitively real in space and time in Jesus in spite of the very worst human beings can do and experience. Finally, it is the place where God's love is revealed in its greatest depth and breadth; here we see God revealed definitively (i.e., made definitively real and known in space and time) as the One who will not allow sin  or death to have the final word or be the final scream or silence. Here on the cross Jesus remains obedient (that is, open and attentive) to the God who wills to be present to, with, and for us without condition or limit. In other words here on the cross heaven and earth come together as God has always willed. Paul says it this way: [[Very rarely will someone give his life for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God proves his love for us in this: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us,]] and again, [[God was in Christ, drawing all [creation] to Himself,]] and too, [[Jesus, the Christ was obedient unto death, even (godless, sinful) death on a cross."]] In all of this God is at work bringing a new heaven and new earth into existence where God will be all in all. More, God does this for us so that, as my major theology professor used to put it, human beings might "live in joy and die in peace."

Your Questions:

So, with all of that as background, let me try to respond to your questions more directly.  Yes, in light of this theology of the cross I am saying that God does not will Jesus' death or the death of any other person. Our God, the God and Abba of Jesus wills life --- full and abundant life, not death. He wills that Jesus live his life with integrity and that he bring God's love to the whole sweep of human existence, every moment and mood of it. This is Jesus' vocation and the way he proclaims the coming of the Reign of God. He wills that Jesus oppose Sin -- that state of estrangement and alienation that occurs whenever human beings fall short of their truest humanity and choose idols instead of God. But death itself is not "of God" and godless, final, or eternal death, even less so. The truth is that while death invariably intervenes in and destroys life in a bewildering variety of ways, God in/through Christ and his cross intervenes in death and brings eternal life, meaning, and hope out of that. Tragically, Death did indeed take your daughters, but in Christ God has taken death into himself and transformed it entirely with his own presence, life, and love. In so doing he rescues your daughters from death and welcomes them into his own very life. The hope this makes possible extends to all of us in Christ.

Your children are well and entirely safe in God as well --- not because God took them from you, but because he rescued them from the "one" who did. That is the hope that we all share because while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us all. God in Christ loves us so exhaustively and effectively that he will allow nothing to stand in the way of this love, not sin or death, not anything created or supernatural. We are made for God and nothing at all can prevent us from reaching that goal. Again, to quote Paul, [[Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No. . .For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.]] (Romans 8: 35-39)

I sincerely hope this is helpful! It is meant not only for you but for any who have been taught some version of God using death as "punishment" or, when this doesn't fit the context, that he "calls us home" by causing our death. God calls us to himself, always and everywhere, including in our godlessness and relative inhumanity, but death is not his weapon or instrument in this; rather it is the enemy that he vanquishes in Jesus' own obedient (open to God) death.

Followup Question: Jesus' Call to Live God's Love Exhaustively

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, I have never heard Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane described in terms of discernment before. I thought Jesus went to his Father in prayer to see if his Father could take the cup away. I also never heard anyone suggest that the cup Jesus accepts is the cup of integrity. Isn't it the cup of suffering? Doesn't God's refusal to take away the cup from Jesus mean he wills Jesus' death and torture? I don't see how you can argue God does not will Jesus' torture, suffering and death.]] 

Thanks for reading the posts which are behind your questions (cf Violence at the Heart of Christianity). I appreciate it. Thanks also for the chance to clarify what I am and am not saying and why. I definitely appreciate that as well. First of all I am reading the scenes in Gethsemane in the synoptics, not in John because John uses a different approach. The three scenes in the synoptics are essentially the same with Luke adding the vivid detail of the agonia with blood-like sweat pouring from Jesus. This detail adds to the depth of my conclusion that Jesus was discerning with and before God the very nature of his next vocational step and, as part of that process of discernment, readying himself to embrace it wholeheartedly.

Discernment, an Ongoing Process in Living One's Vocation:

What I have suggested thus far is that Jesus's ministry was a way of confronting all of the powers and principalities at work in the world. It was a way of embodying God's reign and bringing that into confrontation with the various powers and manifestations of evil of this world/kingdom (i.e., sin, illness, death, oppression, meaninglessness, etc). As Jesus continues his ministry of the Kingdom of God/Heaven, the intensity of his confrontations grows as does the threat to him these represent. In some stories of Jesus' journey to Jerusalem one gets the impression that Jesus evades the threat temporarily and moves from safe house to safe house as the lights of previous safe houses wink out and the darkness and threat closing in on Jesus grows. In spite of all of this Jesus continues to live and minister in integrity, that is he "speaks truth to power" in, with, and through his authentic humanity and exhaustive transparency to and mediation of God. Throughout we are told that time and again Jesus goes apart to pray to his Abba and then continues forward as he discerns he must (we read, for instance in Lk 4:42-43, "I must preach. . .to the other cities too. . .for it was for this purpose too that I was sent. . ." as Jesus comes from prayer).

I think it would be a terrible mistake to treat Jesus' prayer throughout the gospels as though it is only a way of recharging his spiritual or personal batteries, so to speak. Jesus' prayer to his Abba is always about laying his entire humanity before God and finding the will of God in continuing on his path to reveal (make known but also to make real in space and time) the very sovereignty of that creator God. Jesus' relationship with God develops and deepens over time. His embodiment of the Word of God becomes more definitive and exhaustive. (Luke says, "he grew in grace and stature"). At every point Jesus must discern what is the best way to carry on his specific vocation and ministry. Will it be in healing, exorcisms, teaching, preaching, contending with religious authorities, calling disciples, weakness, submission, rebellion (as with some Jewish activists), silence, or even in subjection to and death from the very powers and principalities he confronts? Remember, Jesus' ministry is to proclaim (i.e., embody and bring) the Kingdom of God to and in the face of the world's darkness and idolatry, not to simply be a wonderworker, healer, preacher, teacher, exorcist, etc. Discernment is an ongoing process which reaches its climax in Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane.

In Luke's gospel we have the detail of the agonia in the garden. Remember that agonia (or agony as we translate it) did not mean a period of terrible physical (or mental) suffering. It was a word used by athletes for all that was involved in their immediate preparation for a contest or race. They would warm up their muscles, minds, and hearts so they were at their peak of readiness when the contest began. I can imagine athletes running through an assessment of who they really are and all the reasons they are participating in such a contest as part of this agonia. In John's gospel, instead of the Gethsemane scene in the Synoptics, we see Jesus doing this in a long period of prayer where he recalls all that he has done for others, who he is, who others are and what keeps them in bondage or exile, what he is about in terms of God's reign and opposing the powers of this world. This has the flavor of teaching and proclamation, but it is also the kind of discernment moment where we affirm with God just who we are and what our vocation is as we listen to God and prepare for something which will really test us and our call.

A Cup of Integrity which involves Suffering:

Jesus is committed to God's purposes and has lived his life walking this specific path. At this point the path takes him directly into the very maw of the powers of sin and death, the heart of "the world" he acts to transform by making God present there. Jesus speaks truth to power; it is the truth of authentic humanity and the Creator God spoken (made present, addressing) the untruth (sin, evil, distortions) of this world. At every moment and mood of his life Jesus has acted with integrity in the face of opposition and lack of understanding, whether with parents and family, teachers and elders in the Temple or synagogue, the crowds, his disciples, Satan, God, the powers of the Roman Empire, Pilate, Herod, et al). He has come to know and prepared for the entirety of his life to affirm and reveal the Kingdom (Reign) of God in a definitive way. When he prays he also discerns and that is especially true in Gethsemane. 

We can hear his implicit questions to his Abba: "How will my failure and crucifixion reveal your reign?" "The disciples are not ready yet, won't my death destroy the reform movement just coming together around me?" "How does allowing the powers that be to destroy me reveal your power and infinite love?" "If you can show me a better way, please Abba, I beg that you do this; I can't see how this is the best way forward!" And yes, we can hear his fear as well, "Dying such a death? It is unthinkable in its torture and its shame." "My Mother will have to watch, no matter what I tell her." "Will I be up to this? Am I strong enough?" Then, his final affirmation --- the piece of his prayer evangelists share, "But of course, your will be done in me as I have always allowed it to have been done until now; let me live these  kenotic (self-emptying) events with fidelity, with integrity!!" As I "hear" Jesus' prayer in this scene especially, it is a struggle to discern and then accede once again, but now far more profoundly, to the will of God.

The Divine Will: Embracing a Life of Love even in the Face of Godless Death:

One of the images I use sometimes to illustrate the distinction between what God does and does not will with regard to the cross of Christ is that of the Peace Corps. We send young persons to other countries, sometimes where there can be significant danger, in order to demonstrate the truth and vision of the United States of America. No one in the Peace Corps wills the death of these young persons; what is willed is that they live their lives for these others in a fully integral way with all the integrity and fidelity they can bring to the task. What is willed by those who commission them is life, not death. And yet sometimes Peace Corps volunteers are lost/killed in the process of carrying out their mission. Sometimes it is due to accidents, or natural disasters; sometimes, however, it is due to the hostility and belligerence of people in the country. 

A similar example might be members of the armed forces. When these young persons are sent out "in harm's way" they are sent to live (and fight as needed) for the mission. They may be engaged in building schools, hospitals, communications networks and infrastructure; they will fight to protect the innocent, to secure a government, and so forth. But what is willed is not their death. Giving their lives for others may be entailed in living their lives for others, but what superiors will is not their deaths (and especially not by horrific means) but that they live their commitments with fidelity and integrity wherever they find themselves!

What God wills of Jesus is that he live from and for the Love of God. God wills Jesus to be a man for others, one who reveals the depths and breadth of God's own love for himself and these others, and to do so exhaustively. While this love is rejected even by some of Jesus' own disciples and family, Jesus continues to offer it even as he is tortured, betrayed, and executed.  It is important to distinguish what human beings will for and do to Jesus and what God wills for him.  We teach that God wills that Jesus love us and his God to the farthest reaches of human life --- wherever that love takes him, and whatever openness and attentiveness (obedience) that requires; what I do not believe is that God wills Jesus' death by torture or his abandonment and betrayal by anyone including Godself.

The cup that God does not remove is the cup of living and loving exhaustively with complete integrity (as God loves!) even to the greatest depths and breadth of their very rejection by this world. This is where the vocation to authentic humanity is most difficult; it is where the call to openness, attentiveness, and self-gift to and for the other is most easily compromised and mitigation most easily justified. And Jesus knows this very well. It is what inspires his prayer in Gethsemane: is the abject inhumanity and shamefulness of Jesus' fate really the best way to make human integrity and dignity most manifest? Is there a better way to reveal the God who is exhaustive and unconditional love-in-act --- a better way to allow Love-in-act to penetrate and transform reality even to the depths of inhumanity and godlessness?  

I believe this (along with all the related questions mentioned above) is what filled Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane. I believe this is what Jesus was discerning. It is certainly the question answered by Jesus' passion. God willed Jesus to live God's love exhaustively, wherever that love for God and God's own took him. God willed that he live his life and vocation with an uncompromised, unceasing openness and integrity. And that is precisely what Jesus did. Whether in strength or in weakness, in his human capacity or in abject human incapacity, Jesus was entirely transparent to the sovereign power and presence of God. He acted with human integrity to reveal God exhaustively. He was entirely transparent to God and never once got in God's way. The resurrection is the story of what God (the one Jesus called, Abba) willed and was able to do with and because of Jesus' own authentically human faithfulness; it was what God could do with an integrity made entirely manifest in abject weakness and dependence.

Violence at the Heart of Christianity?

[[Dear Sister, I read a comment on a book that said Jesus' death on the cross represents a sanctioning of violence right at the heart of Christianity. Is that true do you think? I've read several books that suggest that Jesus' death validates violence like in domestic abuse. Is there some way to avoid this conclusion?]]

Thanks for your questions. In the theology of the cross I have presented here over the past years, I hope it is clear that I don't accept that either conclusion is the case. If we were to argue that God wills the torturous death of his Son without nuance or careful delineation then I think the folks making these kinds of comments or drawing these conclusions would be correct, but since I believe we must tease apart what was and what was not the will of God in Jesus' passion and death, and since I believe Jesus' torture was not the will of God but the will and actions of sinful humanity doing their worst, I also believe we can avoid sanctioning violence at the heart of Christianity. Please note that suffering does exist at the heart of Christianity, but it is not the will of God, nor is it some form of punishment for sin; it is instead what is meant to be redeemed and is redeemed as Jesus makes it his own for our sake. My basic point in several posts here has been that what God wills, especially as Jesus prays in discernment in the Garden of Gethsemane, is a life lived with integrity in obedience (openness, responsiveness) to the will of God --- the will to fullness of life and love mediated through Jesus' vocation as "a man for others".

What is especially redemptive in Jesus' suffering and death in light of the violence which does seem to stand right at the heart of God's battle with sin and evil, is the fact that God in Christ makes these ordinarily isolating and shameful realities his own and in doing so transforms them from places of degradation and shame into potential places of grace and blessing. There is judgment here, but it does not fall on Jesus. Instead, it falls on those who torture and kill him, those in positions of power who diminish and degrade with violence. Because Jesus takes these things on, what were symbols of failure, weakness, and inhumanity become instead symbols (not mere signs!) of the very presence of God and so too, of an incredibly revelatory humanity lived with integrity in communion with God.

Clearly, I believe it is possible to avoid the conclusions you set forth in your questions. Violence is not sanctioned at the heart of Christianity because Christology is about how God deals with the reality of violence and human power structures which torment the helpless and impoverish the weak. God takes human violence on by making it part of his own life; however, God also overturns and condemns it by bringing a victory out of even the worst that humans can and do to one another. In other words, God says no to violence and exploitation as he says an unconditional yes to those who are the victims of such realities, and also to the perpetrators of such violence. God always says no to sin and evil, but God also always says yes to the persons touched by these things.

The Crucified God: Emmanuel Fully Revealed (partial reprise)

Several years ago I did a reflection for my parish. I noted that all through Advent we sing Veni, Veni, Emmanuel and pray that God will come and really reveal Godself as Emmanuel, the God who is with us. I also noted that we may not always realize the depth of meaning captured in the name Emmanuel. We may not realize the degree of solidarity with us and the whole of creation it points to. There are several reasons here. First we tend to use Emmanuel only during Advent and Christmastide so we stop reflecting on the meaning or theological implications of the name. Secondly, we are used to thinking of a relatively impersonal God borrowed from Greek philosophy; he is omnipresent -- rather like air is present in our lives and he is impassible, incapable of suffering in any way at all. Because he is omnipresent, God seems already to be "Emmanuel" so we are unclear what is really being added to what we know (and what is now true!!) of God.  Something is similarly true because of God's impassibility which seems to make God incapable of suffering with us or feeling compassionate toward us. (We could say something similar regarding God's immutability, etc. Greek categories are inadequate for understanding a living God who wills to be Emmanuel with all that implies.) And thirdly, we tend to forget that the word "reveal" does not only mean "to make known," but also "to make real in space and time." The eternal and transcendent God who is revealed in space and time as Emmanuel is the God who, in Christ, enters exhaustively into the most profoundly historical and personal lives and circumstances of his Creation and makes these part of his own life in the process.

Thus, just as the Incarnation of the Word of God happens over the whole of Jesus' life and death and not merely with Jesus' conception or nativity, so too does God require the entire life and death of Jesus to achieve the degree of solidarity with us that makes him the Emmanuel he wills to be. There is a double "movement" involved here, the movement of descent and ascent, kenosis and theosis. Not only does God in Christ become implicated in the whole of human experience and the realm of human history but in that same Christ God takes the whole of the human situation and experience into Godself. We talk about this by saying that through the Christ Event heaven and earth interpenetrate one another and one day God will be all in all or, again, that "the Kingdom of God is at hand." John the Evangelist says it again and again with the language of mutual indwelling and union: "I am in him and he is in me," "he who sees me sees the one who sent me", "the Father and I are One." Paul affirms dimensions of it in Romans 8 when he exults, "Nothing [at all in heaven or on earth] can separate us from the Love of God."

And so, in Jesus' life and active ministry, the presence of God is made real in space and time in an unprecedented way --- that is, with unprecedented authority, compassion, and intimacy. He companions and heals us; he exorcises our demons, teaches, feeds, forgives and sanctifies us. He is mentor and brother and Lord. He bears our stupidities and fear, our misunderstandings, resistance, and even our hostility and betrayals. But the revelation of God as Emmanuel means much more besides; as we move into the Triduum we begin to celebrate the exhaustive revelation, the exhaustive realization of an eternally-willed solidarity with us whose extent we can hardly imagine. In Christ and especially in his passion and death God comes to us in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Three dimensions of the cross especially allow us to see the depth of solidarity with us our God embraces in Christ: failure, suffering unto death, and lostness or godforsakenness. Together they reveal our God as Emmanuel --- the one who is with us as the one from whom nothing can ever ultimately separate us because in Christ those things become part of God's own life.

Jesus comes to the cross ostensibly having failed in his mission. (From one perspective we could say that had he succeeded completely there would have been no betrayal, no trial, no torture and no crucifixion.) Jesus had spoken truth to power all throughout his ministry. On the cross this comes to a climax and in the events of Jesus' passion, the powers and principalities of this world appear to swallow him up. But even as this occurs and Jesus embraces the weight of the world's darkness and deathliness, Jesus remains open to God and trusts in his capacity to redeem any failure; thus even failure, but especially this one, can serve the Kingdom of God. Jesus suffers to the point of death and suffers more profoundly than any person in history we can name --- not because he hurt more profoundly than others but because he was more vulnerable to it and chose to embrace that vulnerability and all the world threw at him without mitigation. Suffering per se is not salvific, but Jesus' openness and responsiveness to God (that is, his obedience) in the face of suffering is. Thus, suffering even unto death is transformed into a potential sacrament of God's presence. Finally, Jesus suffers the lostness of godforsakenness or abandonment by God --- the ultimate separation from God due to sin. This is the meaning of not just death but death on a cross. In this death Jesus again remains open (obedient) to the God who reveals himself most exhaustively as Emmanuel and takes even the lostness of sin and death into himself and makes these his own. After all, as the NT reminds us, it is the sick and lost for whom God in Christ comes.

As I have noted before, John C. Dwyer, my major Theology professor for BA and MA work back in the 1970's described God's revelation of self on the cross (God's making himself known and personally present even in those places from whence we exclude him) --- the exhaustive coming of God as Emmanuel --- in this way:

[[Through Jesus, the broken being of the world enters the personal life of the everlasting God, and this God shares in the broken being of the world. God is eternally committed to this world, and this commitment becomes full and final in his personal presence within this weak and broken man on the cross. In him the eternal One takes our destiny upon himself --- a destiny of estrangement, separation, meaninglessness, and despair. But at this moment the emptiness and alienation that mar and mark the human situation become once and for all, in time and eternity, the ways of God. God is with this broken man in suffering and in failure, in darkness and at the edge of despair, and for this reason suffering and failure, darkness and hopelessness will never again be signs of the separation of man from God. God identifies himself with the man on the cross, and for this reason everything we think of as manifesting the absence of God will, for the rest of time, be capable of manifesting his presence --- up to and including death itself.]]

He continues,

[[Jesus is rejected and his mission fails, but God participates in this failure, so that failure itself can become a vehicle of his presence, his being here for us. Jesus is weak, but his weakness is God's own, and so weakness itself can be something to glory in. Jesus' death exposes the weakness and insecurity of our situation, but God made them his own; at the end of the road, where abandonment is total and all the props are gone, he is there. At the moment when an abyss yawns beneath the shaken foundations of the world and self, God is there in the depths, and the abyss becomes a ground. Because God was in this broken man who died on the cross, although our hold on existence is fragile, and although we walk in the shadow of death all the days of our lives, and although we live under the spell of a nameless dread against which we can do nothing, the message of the cross is good news indeed: rejoice in your fragility and weakness; rejoice even in that nameless dread because God has been there and nothing can separate you from him. It has all been conquered, not by any power in the world or in yourself, but by God. When God takes death into himself it means not the end of God but the end of death.]] Dwyer, John C., Son of Man Son of God, a New Language for Faith, p 182-183.

Death as the Last Enemy: On the Relationship of God to Death

[[Dear Sister, I read something you wrote about God not willing the torture and death of Jesus. (I'm sorry for being vague here; I can't cut and paste from your blog.) That was not what I was taught. In fact, I was told when at different times two of my children died of serious illness that God "had taken them" and also was reminded that I should not be angry with God because after all, "he had not spared his only begotten Son." Are you saying that God does not will our deaths either? That God did not take my daughters from me? And if God did not do this, then where are my children? What hope do any of us have??!!]]

First, I am terribly sorry for your loss!! Please know I will hold you in my own heart and prayer. Meanwhile, yes, I have written that Jesus' torture and death by crucifixion were not willed by God; these were inhuman acts dreamt up and made as sophisticated and ingenious a way of killing someone in horrendous torture --- i.e., in as unspeakable degradation, pain, and shame, as was (in)humanly possible. The first thing I think we must accept is that our God is a God of love and life and that, as Paul tells us, death is the last enemy to be brought under God's feet (1Cor 15:25-26). What God is is Love-in-Act and what God wills is life, abundant, integral life in dialogue and union with Himself. He does not will the death of anyone, including his only begotten Son. 

The second thing we must see and embrace then, is a somewhat different way of understanding Jesus' prayer and God's silence in the Garden of Gethsemane. Remember that there Jesus prays three times that his Abba allow this cup to pass him by. He does not pray that the cup not be given him by his Abba, but that God would remove it if possible. It is possible here to hear Jesus struggling in the presence of the One he loves and is loved by  best --- the One who always hears him --- to find another way forward, another way to live his life and vocation with integrity without running headfirst into the powers that will kill him --- and this includes not only the religious and political authorities, but the powers of sin and death as well. But God does not remove or take from Jesus the cup of integrity --- the cup of a life lived with integrity in dialogue with God drunk to its very dregs. 

Does God will Jesus' horrendous and shameful death by torture and/or crucifixion? No. We can't accept he does nor does any text say this specifically is the will of God. To believe it is the will of God is to accept as well that those who betrayed, rejected, lied about, abandoned, spat upon, tortured, and executed Jesus were fully cooperating with the will of God. That is simply impossible, and if true, would give us a God few of us could believe in or trust. Where is the "good news" in that? To struggle in the way Jesus does in Gethsemane is to engage with God in order to come to terms with God's actual will; here Jesus struggles to come to clarity about and embrace fully what it means to live one's life and vocation with complete and exhaustive integrity --- especially when that life/vocation is defined in terms of dialogue with and complete dependence upon God. Jesus' life certainly is about this and our own lives are meant to be the same. It is not Jesus' torture and death that God wills but his absolute integrity and exhaustively authentic God-dependent humanity. This is the cup God cannot, and will not remove from him.

In Jesus' passion, we must learn to tease apart the things that are of man, and especially of man's inhumanity versus what is authentically human, and those which are truly of God or are the will of God. What I find of God in the crucifixion is the affirmation and reassurance that God, the One Jesus calls Abba, does not despise even the most godless of situations, places, persons, and events. Our God is the one is who absolutely determined to be found in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Jesus, precisely as truly and authentically human, reveals this God to us and in the power of the Holy Spirit lives his life and speaks truth to power in a way which means that God does not despise the godless places in our lives; they are, in fact, the places God chooses to reveal his love and mercy most exhaustively.

Regarding the things of mankind, there are two aspects we must be able to see in Jesus' passion and death: first, there are the inhuman or less than truly human actions and attitudes of most of the actors in the narrative. These have to do with all the things I mentioned above in the second paragraph and several more besides -- the hunger for power and the correlative thirst for control at the expense of others, the fear associated with life in such a society for those who are diminished, oppressed, and exploited, the tendency to join in when a mob yells angry, bloodthirsty, and thoughtless slogans because otherwise we feel powerless, have no true sense of ourselves or of  genuinely belonging, and believe we can achieve these things by joining ourselves to such groups even when that leads us to harm others. All of these tend to dehumanize us. The instances of inhuman and dehumanizing behavior and attitudes in the passion narratives are legion. 

Secondly, there are examples of true or authentic humanity, human humility, integrity, faithfulness, generosity, and courage. Jesus is the primary exemplar here, but the beloved disciple, Jesus' Mother, and a few other women along with Joseph of Arimathea and the Centurion who proclaims Jesus the Christ/ Son of God are also participants modeling some of these virtues and dimensions of authentic humanity. What is especially true of authentic humanity is the way it is entirely transparent to God --- something I believe Catholic Christological dogma tried to express in the non-paradoxical language of hypostases, etc. So, the more truly human one is, the more transparent to God. And because this is so, when we see Jesus' helplessness, weakness, shame, brokenness, and so forth, we should also be able to see the paradoxical power of love that does not despise weakness, brokenness, or anything else that might once have been a sign of God's disfavor and absence. Instead, in the crucified Christ God makes these his own and there on the cross heaven and earth are drawn together in the very heart of Jesus precisely as crucified. (cf., 2 Cor 12:8-9 "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.")

The Good News of the Cross

For purposes of this essay, again, it is critically important to remember that death is not some sort of weapon God wields to punish, but again, is an event linked consequentially to estrangement and alienation from God, self, and others.  As noted above, it, along with Sin, is a power or principality which is a consequence of human sinfulness which Paul identifies as the last enemy to be put under the feet of God. It is imperative that we understand death, and especially what the NT calls "eternal death,"  "sinful death," or again, "godless death," as something linked to sinfulness with which God contends. God does this throughout the history of Israel's struggle against idolatry and he does it in Jesus' miracles, exorcisms, and in every other choice for life and love which Jesus makes on God's and others' behalf.  

What Paul also tells us is that the cross is precisely the place where God's ultimate victory over the powers of sin and death is won. It is the place where humans beings do their worst to an innocent other and it is a place where authentic humanity is made definitively real in space and time in Jesus in spite of the very worst human beings can do and experience. Finally, it is the place where God's love is revealed in its greatest depth and breadth; here we see God revealed definitively (i.e., made definitively real and known in space and time) as the One who will not allow sin  or death to have the final word or be the final scream or silence. Here on the cross Jesus remains obedient (that is, open and attentive) to the God who wills to be present to, with, and for us without condition or limit. In other words here on the cross heaven and earth come together as God has always willed. Paul says it this way: [[Very rarely will someone give his life for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God proves his love for us in this: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us,]] and again, [[God was in Christ, drawing all [creation] to Himself,]] and too, [[Jesus, the Christ was obedient unto death, even (godless, sinful) death on a cross."]] In all of this God is at work bringing a new heaven and new earth into existence where God will be all in all. More, God does this for us so that, as my major theology professor used to put it, human beings might "live in joy and die in peace."

Your Questions:

So, with all of that as background, let me try to respond to your questions more directly.  Yes, in light of this theology of the cross I am saying that God does not will Jesus' death or the death of any other person. Our God, the God and Abba of Jesus wills life --- full and abundant life, not death. He wills that Jesus live his life with integrity and that he bring God's love to the whole sweep of human existence, every moment and mood of it. This is Jesus vocation and the way he proclaims the coming of the Reign of God. He wills that Jesus oppose Sin -- that state of estrangement and alienation that occurs whenever human beings fall short of their truest humanity and choose idols instead of God. But death itself is not "of God" and godless, final, or eternal death, even less so. The truth is that while death invariably intervenes in and destroys life in a bewildering variety of ways, God in/through Christ and his cross intervenes in death and brings eternal life, meaning, and hope out of that. Tragically, Death did indeed take your daughters, but in Christ God has taken death into himself and transformed it entirely with his own presence, life, and love. In so doing he rescues your daughters from death and welcomes them into his own very life. The hope this makes possible extends to all of us in Christ.

Your children are well and entirely safe in God as well. That is the hope that we all share because while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us all. God in Christ loves us so exhaustively and effectively that he will allow nothing to stand in the way of this love, not sin or death, not anything created or supernatural. We are made for God and nothing at all can prevent us from reaching that goal. Again, to quote Paul, [[Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No. . .For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.]] (Romans 8: 35-39)

I sincerely hope this is helpful! It is meant not only for you but for any who have been taught some version of God using death as "punishment" or, when this doesn't fit the context, that he "calls us home" by causing our death. God calls us to himself, always and everywhere, including in our godlessness and relative inhumanity, but death is not his weapon or instrument in this; rather it is the enemy that he vanquishes in Jesus' own obedient (open to God) death.

Feast of the Exaltation (Triumph) of the Cross (Reprise)

[[Dear Sister Laurel, Could you write something about [today's] feast of the Exaltation of the Cross? What is a truly healthy and yet deeply spiritual way to exalt the Cross in our personal lives, and in the world at large (that is, supporting those bearing their crosses while not supporting the evil that often causes the destruction and pain that our brothers and sisters are called to endure due to sinful social structures?]]

First of all, I think it is helpful to remember the alternative name of this feast, namely, the Triumph of the Cross. For me personally this is a "better" name, and yet, it is a deeply paradoxical one, just like its alternative. We are dealing with the profoundly scandalous way God triumphs over human sin and the powers of evil in our world. It is a feast in which the torture and death of one man is celebrated as the greatest occasion of blessing in human history.

How many times have we heard it suggested that Christians ought not wear crosses around their necks as jewelry any more than they should wear tiny images of electric chairs, medieval racks or other symbols of torture and death? Similarly, how many times has it been said that making jewelry of the cross trivializes what happened there? There is a great deal of truth in these objections, and in similar ones! On the one hand the cross points to the slaughter by torture of hundreds of thousands of people by an oppressive state. More individually it points to the slaughter by torture of an innocent man in order to appease a rowdy religious crowd by an individual of troubled but dishonest conscience, one who put "the supposed greater good" before the innocence of this single victim.

And of course there were collaborators in this slaughter: the religious establishment, disciples who were either too cowardly to stand up for their beliefs, or those who actively betrayed this man who had loved them and called them to a life of greater abundance (and personal risk) than they had ever known before. If we are going to appreciate the triumph of the cross, if we are going to exalt it as Christians do and should, then we cannot forget this aspect of it. Especially we cannot forget that much that happened here was not the will of God, nor that generally the perpetrators were not cooperating with that will! The cross was the triumph of God over sin and sinful godless death, but it was also a sinful and godless human (and societal!) act of murder by torture. (In fact one could argue it was a true divine triumph only because it was also these all-too-human things.) Both aspects exist in tension with each other, as they do in all of God's victories in our world. It is this tension our jewelry and other crucifixes embody: they are miniature instruments of torture, yes, but also symbols of God's ultimate triumph over the powers of sin and death with which humans are so intimately entangled and complicit.

In our own lives there are crosses, burdens which are the result of societal and personal sin which we must bear responsibly and creatively. That means not only that we cannot shirk them, but also that we bear them with all the assistance that God puts into our hands. Especially it means allowing God to assist us in the carrying of this cross. To really exalt the cross of Christ is to honor all that God did with and made of the very worst that human beings could do to another human being. To exult in our own personal crosses means, at the very least, to allow God to transform them with his presence. That is the way we truly exalt the Cross: we allow it to become the way in which God enters our lives, the passion that breaks us open, makes us completely vulnerable, and urges us to embrace or let God embrace us in a way which comforts, sustains, and even transfigures the whole face of our lives.

If we are able to do this, then the Cross does indeed triumph. Suffering does not. Pain does not. Neither will our lives be defined in terms of these things despite their very real presence. What I think needs to be especially clear is that the exaltation of the cross has to do with what was made possible in light of the combination of awful and humanly engineered torment, and the grace of God. Sin abounded but grace abounded all the more. Does this mean we invite suffering so that "grace may abound all the more?" Well, Paul's clear answer to that question was, "By no means!" How about tolerating suffering when we can do something about it? What about remaining in an abusive relationship, or refusing medical treatment which would ease mental and physical pain, for instance? Do we treat these as crosses we must bear? Do we allow ourselves to become complicit in the abuse or the destructive effects of pain and physical or mental illness? I think the general answer is no, of course not.

That means we must look for ways to allow God's grace to triumph, while the triumph of grace always results in greater human freedom and authentic functioning. Discerning what is necessary and what will really be an exaltation of the cross in our own lives means determining and acting on the ways freedom from bondage and more authentic humanity can be achieved. Ordinarily this will mean medical treatment; or it will mean moving out of the abusive situation. In all cases it means remaining open to and dependent upon God and to what he desires for our lives in spite of the limitations and suffering inherent in them. This is what Jesus did, and what made his cross salvific. This openness and responsiveness to God and what he will do with our lives is, as I have said many times before, what the Scriptures called obedience. Let me be clear: the will of God in any situation is that we remain open to him and that authentic humanity be achieved. We must do whatever it is that allows us to not close ourselves off to God, and to remain open to growth as human. If our pain dehumanizes, then we must act as we can to change that. If our lives cease to reflect the grace of God (and this means, "it fails to be a joyfilled, free, fruitful, loving, genuinely human life") then we must do what it takes to allow grace to triumph.

The same is true in society more generally. We must act in ways which open others to the grace of God. Yes, suffering does this, but this hardly means we simply tell people to pray, grin, and bear it ---- much less allow the oppressive structures to stay in place! As the gospels tell us, "the poor you will always have with you" but this hardly means doing nothing to relieve poverty! Similarly we will always have suffering with us on this side of death, and especially the suffering that comes when human beings institutionalize their own sinful drives and actions. What is essential is that the Cross of Christ is exalted, that the Cross of Christ triumphs in our lives and society, not simply that individual crosses remain or that we exalt them (especially when they are the result of human engineering and sin)! And, as I have written before, to allow Christ's Cross to triumph is to allow the grace of God to transform all the dark and meaningless places with his presence, light and love. It is ONLY in this way that we truly "make up for what is lacking in the passion of Christ."

The paradox in today's feast is that the exaltation of the Cross implies suffering, and stresses that the Cross of Christ empowers the ability to suffer well, but at the same time points to a freedom the world cannot grant --- a freedom in which we both transcend and transform suffering because of a victory Christ has won over the powers of sin and death which are built right into our lives and in the structures of this world. Thus, we cannot ever collude with the powers of this world; we must always be sure we are acting in complicity with the grace of God instead. Sometimes this means accepting the suffering that comes our way (or encouraging and supporting others in doing so of course), but never for its own sake. If our (or their) suffering does not result in greater human authenticity, greater freedom from bondage, greater joy and true peace, then it is not suffering which exalts the Cross of Christ. If it does not in some way transform and subvert the structures of this world which oppress and destroy, then it does not express the triumph of Jesus' Cross, nor are we really participating in that Cross in embracing our own.

Image of a Transfigured Victimhood: On the Paradox of Victimhood Seen in Light of the Christ Event

 I received a Comment and Question from a friend last night. It's an important topic and I wanted to share some of my response here. I have made changes in the text to make the conversation more general, less specific to a particular person or persons. [[Dear Laurel, Today we dealt with the question: Have I ever been a victim?  Loaded word, that.  I know there are some who view Jesus as a victim, but I have often found that characterization repugnant. What is your sense of things here?]]

Sister, in doing theology I have long seen that in approaching Christian truths there will be paradox. There will and must ALWAYS be paradox. I have often found when struggling with this theological position or that and trying to understand why it falls short that most of the time it is because I have not located or articulated the paradox involved. For instance, how do we adequately emphasize the humanity of Jesus without diminishing his divinity? How do we emphasize his divinity without sacrificing his humanity? The answer here is less a doctrine of “two natures” or some kind of divine arithmetic re natures and persons than it is a paradox.  Namely: To the extent Jesus is truly human he reveals (mediates, makes real in space and time) the power and presence of God. Jesus is truly human to the extent he is transparent to God. And to the extent he is entirely transparent to God he is seen as himself at once human and divine. In some ways, this is precisely what we are each called to. And it is why the Eastern Church especially speaks in terms of theosis or divinization. Wherever there is authentic humanity there is the face/power/presence of God. It is what we mean when we speak of living/praying/working in the Name of God.

Regarding Jesus as victim, I think you have to see that as part of a whole host of related paradoxes; for instance: only to the extent Jesus was a victim, embraced victimhood freely in integrity, and remained open to God does he embody freedom. Only to the extent Jesus was a victim, are we enabled to see the power and reach of God’s empowering presence and love. Only to the extent Jesus becomes subject to the powers of this world, and does so obediently (openly) can the God he reveals (makes known and makes real in space and time) truly become victorious over those powers. And so forth.

There is shame in the incarnation and that deepens incredibly on the cross. I know you are aware of theological writers today who talk about God’s redemption of shame. Jesus’ victimhood was one of the most repugnant aspects of the cross, one of the things that spoke most profoundly of abject powerlessness and godlessness; it was this that proved to the Jewish leadership that he could not be God’s Messiah --- one expected to reveal (make real in space and time) God’s sovereign power. It is probably really good that you feel repugnance for this dimension of the passion because it means you have not “domesticated” the cross. It is a reason too to listen to Paul in this:[[ God chose the things despised by the world, things counted as nothing, and used them to bring to nothing all the world considers important.]] Or (better), [[God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing the things that are.]] 1 Cor 1:28

Victimhood is the epitome of being stripped and emptied --- but it is the “sinful” expression of this kind of emptying, the precise opposite of the kenosis we seek as disciples. It means the loss of dignity and even of selfhood. You and I both know how real and terrible victimization can be and victimhood is. But that is only one side of the paradox and it must be pressed to its extreme if we are going to understand the depth of the other side of the paradox. And, at least as I understand it, the other side of the paradox is that in the depth of the loss/emptiness caused by victimization and reflected in the wounds of victimhood is, IN CHRIST, a love which gives one a self, calls one by name, confers and  absolutely delights in one’s dignity and freedom, and gifts one with almost infinite potential. . . The bottom line on the cross is that we now know we can find God (or, better perhaps, be found BY God) in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. In Christ God precedes and accompanies us there. It is this other side of the paradox which transforms the distorted, sinful stripping and emptying into fruitful kenosis as well, I think.

So Sister, feel the repugnance. Identify what causes it. Feel it deeply. It gets you in touch with something truly shameful in the Christ Event (and shameful not just in terms of real victimhood but also the culture of victimhood which so denies grace and trivializes real victimhood), but do it as part of your appreciation of a paradox: In victimhood, Jesus reveals a God who knows and redeems that reality as well. In the shamefulness and shame of victimization and victimhood, Jesus reveals the nature of genuine freedom and the source of all authentic selfhood and it is a God who meets us in the unexpected and unacceptable place. Thanks be to God! (I would note for those who simply believe themselves to be victims, this would call them to greater courage and to adopt a new way of seeing themselves, a new way of being.)

Very sorry for all the preaching!! Many whom you or I work with have been (and in some ways still are) victims themselves (i.e., they have been and still are wounded in significant ways by victimization), but they are that while on the way to theonomy (being a self where God is sovereign is much better than autonomy –  being a law to/unto oneself!) and thus, to the authentic personhood/selfhood that is the gift of God and the result of their own responsiveness in Christ/the Spirit. That could never have happened had Jesus not known their own suffering in its depths and emptiness and still remained open (obedient) to God and from that, empowered them to do the same. In my work, I can see their shame and the destruction it occasioned, but also the new possibility in that cross and (its transfigured) victimhood. I am very clear that this theology doesn’t "work" unless the paradox is seen, held, and radicalized as much as possible! Maybe naming the paradox is helpful: Jesus is not a victim; He is the image of transfigured victimhood --- another way to say God-With-Us.

Reflection for Solemnity of the Ascension: Seeing our New Creation with the Eyes of God

In one of the Star Trek Next Generation episodes, Commander Geordi La Forge and Ensign Ro Larren are caught in a transporter accident. While returning to the ship, a surge of power or radiation causes them "materialize" back on the Enterprise in a way where they cannot be seen or heard. The transporter pad looks empty; they seem to have been lost. Neither can they interact in their usual way with the ordinary world of space and time; for instance, they can walk through walls, reach through control panels or other "solid" objects, and stand between two people who are conversing without being perceived. The dimension of reality Geordi and Ro now inhabit interpenetrates the other more everyday world of space and time, interfaces with it in some way without being identical with it. In other words, their new existence is both continuous and discontinuous with their old existence; Geordi and Ro are both present and absent at the same time. In Star Trek parlance this new way of being embodied is called, ”phased” -- because it is a presence slightly “out of phase with our own”. While their friends believe that Geordi and Ro are gone forever and begin to grieve, Geordi and Ro are still vitally present and they leave signs of this presence everywhere --- if only these can be recognized and their friends empowered to see them as they are.


Especially, I think this story helps us begin to imagine and think about what has been so important during all the readings we have heard during this Easter Season and is celebrated in a new and even more mysterious way with the feast of the Ascension. In these stories Jesus is present in a way which is both like and unlike, continuous and discontinuous with, normal existence; it is a presence which can be described as, and even mistaken for absence. Today’s first reading from Acts describes a difficult and demanding “departure” or “absence” but one which has the disciples misguidedly looking up into the skies --- something the angels upbraid them for. Meanwhile, the consoling and hope-filled word we are left with at the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel conveys the promise of an abiding presence which will never leave us. Jesus affirms, [[And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.]] In these readings, absence and Presence are held together in a strange tension.

We know that Resurrection itself represented the coming of something new, a new kind of expanded or less limited incarnation, a new embodied presence or materiality where Jesus can be encountered and recognized with the eyes of faith. What is made clear time and again as Jesus picnicked on the beach with his disciples, invited them to touch him, or even when he warns Mary of Magdala not to cling to him in this form, is that his resurrection is bodily. Yes, it is different from the kind of materiality Jesus had before his death. He is no longer mortal and so we are told he walks through walls and breaches locked doors or otherwise comes and goes without anyone seeing how. The gospel writers want us to understand that Jesus was not merely "raised" in our minds and hearts (though we will certainly find him there!); neither is the risen Jesus disembodied spirit or a naked immortal soul. Finally, he has not relinquished his humanity. God has raised the human Jesus to a new bodily life which is both earthly and heavenly.

Only in Luke’s version of the story is Ascension spoken of directly or treated as a separate event occurring 40 days after the resurrection. (Mark's Gospel originally ended short of the Ascension story.) Here Luke shifts our attention from Jesus’ continuing earthly but mysterious presence to his having been “taken up bodily into heaven”. But how can this be? We might be forgiven for thinking that surely the Star Trek story is easier to believe than this fantastical and incredible tale on which we base our lives! So, what is Luke doing here? What are we really celebrating on this feast?

What Luke and his original readers knew was that in the Scriptures, "Heaven” is a careful Semitic way of speaking about God’s own self --- just as the presence of clouds in today’s reading from Acts refers to the mysteriousness of God’s presence. Heaven is not a remote location in space one can locate with the proper astrometric instruments and coordinates; nor are unbelieving cosmonauts and hard-nosed empiricists the only ones to make such a mistake. After all, as we hear today, even the disciples need to have their attention drawn away from searching the skies and brought back to earth where Jesus will truly be found! Heaven refers to God’s own life shared with others.


Luke is telling the story in a way which helps us see that in Christ God has not only conquered death, but (he) has made room for humanity itself (and in fact, for all of creation) within (his) own Divine life. Christ is the “first fruits” of this new way of existing where heaven (Divine Life) and earth (created life) now interpenetrate one another. God is present in our world of space and time now in a way he could not have been apart from Jesus’ openness and responsiveness (what the Scriptures call his “obedience”), and Jesus is present in a way he could not be without existing in God. Jesus’ own ministry among us continues as more and more, Jesus draws us each and all into that same Divine life in the power of the Holy Spirit of the Father and Son.


St John uses the puzzling language of mutual indwelling to describe this reality: "The Father is in me and I am in him" . . ." we know that we abide in him and he is in us." When theologians in both Western and Eastern churches speak of this whole dynamic, their summary is paradoxical and shocking: [[God became human so that humans might become gods]]. And as one contemporary Bible scholar puts the matter, “We who are baptized into Christ's death are citizens of heaven colonizing the earth.” As such, we are also called on to develop the eyes of faith that allow us to see this new world as it is shot through with the promise of fullness. Some of us experienced what this means just this week.

Three years ago, in a visit to my parish, Bro Mickey McGrath, osfs, gave us a virtual tour of his Camden ‘hood by sharing the work he had drawn and painted from Holy Week onward during his own sheltering in place. Many of us got a chance to see through his eyes, that is, through the eyes of faith and love. What Bro Mickey showed us was not an idealized Camden without violence, poverty, suffering or struggle; those were all present. But through his eyes we saw the greenhouse cathedral of a neighborhood garden, the communion lines  and eucharistic Presence of the community food pantry, the way of the cross of a crippled man as he limped up the street, a broken and bold statue of Mary standing as a symbol of perseverance and hope despite everything, and another more contemporary version made even more beautiful by a prostitute's gift of a single flower. And everywhere reality that could have been accurately drawn in harsh tones of pain and struggle were more accurately shown awash with life, beauty, and hope splashed in colors of brilliant orange, and purple, and gold, and green --- the colors of life, royalty, holiness, newness and potential. 

Today’s Feast is not so much about the departure or absence of Jesus as it is his new transfigured, universal, and even cosmic presence which in turn transforms everything it touches with the life of God. The world we live in is not the one that existed before Jesus’ death, and resurrection. Heaven and earth now interpenetrate one another in a way which may sound suspiciously to some like bad science fiction. We know its truth, however, whenever we can see this New Creation with the eyes of faith and love --- that is, whenever we can see ourselves and the world around us with the very eyes of God. It is the only way we will become disciples ourselves --- or truly make disciples of all nations.

Nothing Can Make Up for the Absence of Those We Love

I first posted this piece several years ago, but it is particularly significant today for two reasons:1) this Holy Thursday is the anniversary of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's execution by the Nazis at Flossenburg, and 2) we are experiencing a time of learning to be Church in new ways during a pandemic which separates us from those we love, as well as from much of the ministry and other activity which also make our lives meaningful.  Still, the Holy Spirit is with each and all of us and we are joined as the Body of Christ in that Spirit; as we begin to celebrate the Triduum, each in the relative solitude of our own homes, let us hold onto that truth in whatever ways we can.

                                      * * * * * 

A couple of years ago or so I wrote an article about Jesus' cry of abandonment on the cross; I suggested that it was the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of the mutual love of Father and Son  that maintained their bond of love while keeping open the space of terrible separation  experienced as abandonment and occasioning the suffering of both Father and Son which reached its climax on the cross and Jesus' "descent into hell". Both connection and separation are necessary dimensions of the love relationships constituting Trinitarian life characterized by the Divine mission to our world and thus, by the kenosis (self-emptying) eventuating in the cross.

Similarly, in writing about eremitical life I noted that stricter separation from the world was an essential part of maintaining not only one's love for God, but also for God's creation, because without very real separation we might instead know only enmeshment in that world rather than a real capacity for love which reconciles and brings to wholeness. In everyday terms we know that the deficiencies and losses we experience throughout our lives are things we often try to avoid or seek to fill or blunt in every conceivable way rather than finding creative  approaches to genuinely live (and heal) the pain: addictions, deprivations and excesses, denial and distractions, pathological withdrawal or superficial relationships of all kinds attest to the futile and epidemic character of these approaches to the deep and often unmet needs we each experience.

While we may expect our relationship with God to fill these needs and simply take away the pain of loss and grief, we are more apt to find God with us IN the pain in a way which, out of a profound love for the whole of who we are and who we are called to become, silently accompanies and consoles us without actually diminishing the suffering associated with the loss or unmet needs themselves. In this way God also assures real healing may be sought and achieved in our separation and suffering. It is a difficult paradox and difficult to state theologically. Paul did it in terms of the God of all comfort who comes to us and resides within us in the midst of our suffering. Today, I found a quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer written while he was a political prisoner of the Nazis and separated from everyone and everything he loved --- except God; it captures the insight or principle underlying these observations --- and says it so very well!

Nothing can make up for the absence

of someone whom we love,

and it would be wrong

to try to find a substitute;

we must simply hold out and see it through.

That sounds very hard at first,

but at the same time

it is a great consolation,

for the gap --- as long as it

remains unfilled ---

preserves the bond between us.

It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap;

God does not fill it

but on the contrary keeps it empty

and so helps us to keep alive

our former communion even

at the cost of pain.

from  Letters and Papers From Prison

 "Letter to Renate and Eberhard Bethge: Christmas Eve 1943"

by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

As a hermit embracing "the silence of solitude" I know full well that this charism of eremitical life is characterized by both connection and separation. It is, as I have written here many times a communion with God which may be lonely --- though ordinarily not a malignant form of loneliness! --- and an aloneness with God which does not simply fill or even replace our needs for friendships and other life giving relationships. Sometimes the pain of separation is more acute and sometimes the consolation of connection eases that almost entirely. Sometimes, however, the two stand together in an intense and paradoxical form of suffering that simply says, "I am made for fullness of love and eschatological union and am still only (but very really!) journeying towards that." This too is a consolation.

Today I am grateful for the bonds of love which so enrich my life  --- even when these bonds are experienced as painful absence and emptiness. I think this is a critical witness of eremitical life with its emphasis on "the silence of solitude" --- just as it is in monastic (or some forms of religious) life more generally. I also believe it is the terrible paradox of relatedness-in-separation Jesus' almost-inarticulate cry of abandonment expressed from the Cross.  Thanks be to God.