Moving from Fear to Love: Ours is not a God Who Punishes Evil

 Partly because of the recent Feast of Christ the King, I have been asked to repost this from July 1, 2013, and am happy to do that. 

Today's readings speak to us in profound and very challenging ways, I think. The first, which I am going to focus on here, is from Genesis 18 and recounts a dialogue between Abraham (the Father of Faith and one whose faith is counted as righteousness) and God over whether God will indeed destroy Sodom if a number of righteous people can be found there. You remember it no doubt: God has heard rumors of the tremendous evil of this city and determines he will find out for himself. If things are as bad as he has heard, then he will destroy the city and everyone therein.

Abraham, the representative of true faith, in a remarkably frank conversation with God, asks a series of questions: What if you find fifty righteous persons, will you destroy everyone? "Will you sweep away the innocent with the guilty?" (Remember that when God destroys evil, innocence is also destroyed; the world, after all, is ambiguous, and that is true of each and all of us as well.) How about 45? What about 30? 20? and so forth. In each case, God answers that he would not destroy the whole city if x or y righteous men were found therein, and even if only 10 righteous persons are found there. But what is the author of Genesis really trying to say here? Is he revealing a God of vengeance whose justice is retributive and who punishes us for our evil? Is he revealing a God with whom we are called to bargain or remonstrate, a God who will be swayed by our superior reason,  or who may be cajoled into changing his mind if the case made is eloquent enough? Is he revealing a fickle and capricious God who is moved hither and yon like a reed blowing in the wind?

I think reading the text in this way would be a profound mistake. It would then become a variation on the idea that the God of Israel revealed in the OT is essentially different than the God of Christians, that, in fact, he is a God of vengeance, whereas the God revealed by Jesus Christ is a God of mercy. But this story is not an attempt to paint a picture of a God of vengeance or retributive justice being reminded by a reasonable and faithful human being of “the bigger picture”! Instead I think the author is recounting the history of Israel and her own coming to know and reveal the real God; this history is captured or personified in Abraham's dialogue with God as more and more clearly he establishes that Yahweh is not the God who punishes evil (evil is its own punishment and carries its own consequences) nor the one who is wed to an abstract notion of justice which he upholds at the expense of the innocent. Instead, Abraham's dialogue gradually reveals to us a God that Israel herself slowly comes to know more fully only through her repeated experiences of God's faithfulness, mercy, and compassion. In this dialogue, it is not God’s mind that is changed, but Abraham’s (Israel's) as, with questions of increasing wonder and disbelief, he tries to establish and plumb the depths of God’s mercy. It is a God for whom the concrete life of the least and the lost is more important than the most common and convincing principle of justice, while the presence of the slightest bit of good is more compelling than a world full of evil. It is the God we come to know in authentic faith.

When we compare the OT and NT side by side what we really see are not two essentially different Gods, but many stories of the movement in history from distorted, inadequate, or partial images and faith to more adequate and fuller images of God and forms of faith; it is the movement from fragmentary, distorted, and partial revelations of a punitive God to the exhaustive revelation of the God of mercy in the Christ Event. The OT is the record of a People coming to be from members of many different cultures and religions --- and doing so as its members outgrow their original theologies and related anthropologies under the influence of repeated experiences of Yahweh's faithfulness, mercy, and compassion. The OT is a history of the progressive (and often inconsistent) purification of Israel's minds and hearts regarding who God is and what constitutes true religion. It is through this purification that they mature as God's own People and persons of true faith. In today's story especially we are listening to Israel slowly relinquish belief in the God who punishes evil and evil doers, the God whose justice is at war with (his) mercy and whose compassion conflicts with his need for retribution or vindication; she does this only in so far as she affirms her own deepest experiences of God and, in an attempt to resolve it, pushes the tension between these two "theological worlds" to the limits of her imagination and narrative capacity.

She has done this in other stories, too. There is the story of the flood where retributive justice wars with compassion and eventually, in an act of radical humility and self-emptying, God "repents" and promises never to destroy the world in this way again. There is the story of the sacrifice of Isaac, where Abraham's hand is stayed by God just as he is ready to plunge the knife into Isaac's chest, and where a different and acceptable sacrifice is provided by God. While this story foreshadows God's own gift of Jesus and Jesus' own sacrifice, it also originally served to proclaim an end to human sacrifice because the God of Israel was NOT a God who required retribution for evil. The God of Israel was different and had a different way of doing justice. He called for Israel to embrace a different religious practice so that they could know and serve him intimately as a light to the Nations. It is no wonder that idolatry looms so large in the failures outlined by Israel. The struggle between false gods and ideas of god and Israel's most profound experience of God's own actions in her life characterized her on every level of her existence --- personal, historical, individual, corporate.

In many ways, this struggle and story reprise our own as well. After getting his disciples in touch with who it is OTHERS say that he is, it is not surprising that Jesus' most critical question to them is, "And you, who do YOU say that I am?" This tension and movement between what we have been told of God and who we actually know in light of our own experiences of his faithfulness, compassion, and mercy is a dominant thread in our own spiritual journeys as well.

In particular, letting go of our belief in the God who punishes evil (or sends evil to punish us!!!), our belief in the God who is the focus of a theology of fear in order to exhaustively embrace the God revealed on the Cross, the God who asserts his rights (i.e., does justice) by loving unconditionally, who sets everything right and fulfills it through forgiveness and mercy, is not an easy task. Everything militates against this; whether it is family history, grade school catechetics, punitive nuns, theologically unsophisticated preaching and writing on hell, judgment, or our own super egos, this is one bit of idolatry, one bit of "worldliness" or pagan theology that is hard to shake.

Our inability to really believe in the power of the love of God may be the real face of unbelief in our own lives and in our Church today. Like Israel, however (and, through the exhaustive revelation of God in Christ), we can do it only by allowing the non-punitive God who is Love-in-Act to truly be our Lord and Master. Each day we are called on to discern both who others say that God is, and who we ourselves say that he is. Each day, we are called on to allow our own hearts and minds to be purified by the God of Jesus Christ as we experience him. Each day we are called on to become Christians who believe more and more firmly and completely in the loving God he reveals and no other --- not the God who punishes evil but the One who submits entirely to it himself, transforms and redeems it with his presence, and thus (in time) loves the world into wholeness.

Exalting the Cross: Another Look at the Theology of the Cross and its Timeliness

Yesterday, a bit late, but also just as it needed to be, a group of us from the parish got together for lunch at a local restaurant to celebrate my birthday (Sept 1st) and 18th anniversary of eremitical consecration (Sept 2nd). It was a terrific party with about 20 of us! Because it didn't happen on the long Labor Day weekend, one person noted it may have been a better occasion than had we tried to celebrate on my actual anniversaries. Given the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, I was not surprised that one of the guests present, wearing a Camino T-shirt, asked me how I understood the cross and what it reveals to us. (At the same time, this is exactly the kind of thing this person would ask about, given her interests and faith!!) Anyway, given the timeliness of the question, I thought I would reprise and enlarge on the answer I gave my friend yesterday afternoon. 

My essential answer was that the cross reveals God to us as the One who wills to be Emmanuel, God With Us, in every moment and mood of our lives, including sin, death, and even godless death. Paul says this in a couple of ways. Our God is revealed in Christ as the One who will allow nothing to separate us from his love (Rom 8). He is the God who, where sin abounds, will be certain his grace (that is, his powerful presence) abounds all the more (Rom 5). Or again, he is the God whose power is perfected in weakness (2 Cor 12:9). And finally, God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself (2 Cor 5:19). To know Christ crucified, and thus, to understand the Cross, is to know God who comes to us in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place and dwells with us in unimaginable mercy and love.

There is another way of thinking about the Cross as revelatory, and that refers to the ways the Cross makes Human Existence known and also real in space and time (the term revelation has both of these meanings). The Cross of Christ not only reveals the nature of God, it also reveals (makes known and real in space and time) authentic humanity. Here Christ is the paradigm of what it means to be fully and truly human, allowing God to be God With Us even in the depths of that which we ordinarily consider godless, namely, sin and death --- even, as Paul says, death on a cross. Moreover, Jesus does this for our sake, for the sake of our reconciliation with God, leading us to human wholeness and fullness of life. To live life as those called to allow God to journey with us in every moment and mood of our lives, and to do so for God's sake, and for the sake of God's creation, is the essence of authentic humanity. All of this is symbolized by the phrases "Self-emptying" or "dying to self", where both of these imply our own incompleteness without God and the distortion we become whenever we try to go it alone or become a law unto ourselves.

A third way of seeing the Cross as revelatory has to do with the fact that it epitomizes our capacity for sin and inhumanity. God did not will Jesus' suffering and death, though I personally have no doubt he knew what he did will would entail Jesus' passion and death at the hands of godless men. God gives us innumerable gifts, and we trivialize, profane, idolize, and otherwise pervert and destroy them. When God gives his only begotten Son to us, the Cross reveals what, all too often, we do with such a precious gift, often in the name of religion! 

All of these forms of revelation depend upon human obedience or disobedience to God. That is, in the cases of Divinity and authentic humanity, Jesus reveals these by remaining open (attentive and responsive) to the will of God being Emmanuel at every moment of his life. This includes his passion and godless death on a Cross. It is because of this openness that God can be the God he wills to be. Because of Jesus' obedience unto death, even death on a cross, there is no moment or mood, no height nor depth from which God's merciful, loving, powerful presence is excluded any longer.  (This is nothing less than the will to reconcile all of creation and forgive sin!)  Jesus' openness, attentiveness, and responsiveness to God's will to be Emmanuel is the mark of authentic humanity and the measure of what it means to be God's own counterpart here in the created world. Its antithesis is disobedience, the refusal to remain open, attentive, and truly responsive to God in all of the surprising and even apparently offensive ways God wills to be present to and with us. 

The tragic irony here is that it is the religious leadership of Jesus' day that pretended to know and understand God, and that manifested the most destructive disobedience to God. When coupled with a civic authority capable of executing those who threaten their autonomy, the result is the torture and death of Jesus, the truly obedient and revelatory One --- a refusal to allow God to be Emmanuel, the one who, again, comes to us in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. (In light of Christ's obedience even unto death on a cross, even this scandalous death no longer signals godlessness or its characterization as accursed. Instead, it is the exhaustive symbol of God's paradoxical will, mercy, and love, for it is the source of Romans 8's profound affirmation that nothing can separate us from the love of God, not sin, not death, not anything at all.)

Today, we are faced with religious (not faithful) approaches to life in this world that are truly allergic to the Cross of Christ and to the way God's power is perfected in weakness in Jesus' obedience to the One he called Abba. One of these is the movement in the US that goes by the name of "Christian Nationalism," with its roots in the so-called "prosperity Gospel" and its distorted reading of Matthew's criticism of those who, with a "violent or aggressive faith," try to take the Kingdom of God by force. But the Cross of Christ repudiates any such religion as anti-Christian. Instead, the feast of the Exaltation or Triumph of the Cross gives us a profoundly paradoxical power most truly revealed (made manifest or known and made real in space and time) in a love that allows an infinitely merciful and loving God to act in (his) own ways on (his) own terms. (This is also one of the reasons weakness (asthenia, ασθενια), and our acceptance of our limitations is such a powerful means to the revelation of God's sovereignty. Not only do they help make us aware of those profound needs we yearn for, but they can allow us to be open to God acting on God's own terms in God's own time.) Jesus, of course, shows us the way here, and it is the way of the Cross, not that of Caesar or Constantine, or a Nationalist ideological movement set on power and (in)human conquest!

Second Sunday of Easter: Thomas's Doubt, What's That Really All About? (Reprise)

A little late, but last Sunday's Gospel focuses on the appearances of Jesus to the disciples, and one of the lessons one should draw from these stories is that we are indeed dealing with bodily resurrection, and especially, with a kind of bodiliness which transcends the corporeality we know here and now. In other words, it is very clear that Jesus' presence among his disciples is not simply a spiritual one, and that part of Christian hope is the hope that we, precisely as embodied persons, will come to perfection beyond the limits of death. It is not just our souls that are meant to be part of the new heaven and earth, but our whole selves, body and soul (and in fact, the whole of creation is meant to be renewed)!

The scenario with Thomas continues this theme but is contextualized in a way that leads homilists to focus on the whole dynamic of faith with seeing, and faith despite not having seen. It also makes doubt the same as unbelief and plays these off against faith --- as though faith cannot also be served by doubt. But doubt and unbelief are decidedly NOT the same things. We rarely see Thomas as the one whose doubt (or whose demands!) SERVES true faith, and yet, that is what today's Gospel is about. Meanwhile, Thomas also tends to get a bad rap as the one who was separated from the community and doubted what he had not seen with his own eyes. The corollary here is often perceived to be that Thomas will not simply listen to his brother and sister disciples and believe that the Lord has appeared to or visited them. But I think there is something far more significant going on in Thomas' proclamation that unless he sees the wounds inflicted on Jesus in the crucifixion, and even puts his fingers in the very nail holes, he will not believe.

What Thomas, I think, wants to make very clear is that we Christians believe in a crucified Christ, and that the resurrection was God's act of validation of Jesus as scandalously and ignominiously Crucified. I think Thomas knows, on some level anyway, that insofar as the resurrection really occurred, it does not nullify what was achieved on the cross. Instead, it renders permanently valid what was revealed (made manifest and made real) there. In other words, Thomas knows if the resurrection is really God's validation of Jesus' life and establishes him as God's Christ, the Lord he will meet is the one permanently established and marked as the crucified One. The crucifixion was not some great misunderstanding that could be wiped away by resurrection. Instead, it was an integral part of the revelation of the nature of truly human and truly divine existence. Whether it is the Divine life, authentic human existence, or sinful human life --- all are marked and revealed in one way or another by the signs of Jesus' cross. For instance, ours is a God who has journeyed to the very darkest, godless places or realms human sin produces, and has become Lord of even those places. He does not disdain them even now but is marked by them and will journey with us there --- whether we are open to him doing so or not --- because Jesus has implicated God there and marked him with the wounds of an exhaustive kenosis.

Another piece of this is that Jesus is, as Paul tells us, the end of the Law, and it was the Law (combined with human sinfulness) that crucified him. The nail holes and wounds in Jesus' side and head -- indeed every laceration which marked him -- are a sign of legal execution -- both in terms of Jewish and Roman law. We cannot forget this, and Thomas' insistence that he really be dealing with the Crucified One reminds us vividly of this fact as well. The Jewish and Roman leaders did not crucify Jesus because they misunderstood him, but because they understood all-too-clearly both Jesus and the immense power he wielded in his weakness and poverty. They understood that he could turn the values of this world, its notions of power, authority, etc., on their heads. They knew that he could foment profound revolution (religious and otherwise) wherever he had followers. They chose to have him crucified not only to put an end to his life, but to demonstrate he was a fraud who could not possibly have come from God; they chose to crucify (or have him crucified) to terrify those who might follow him into all the places discipleship might really lead them --- especially those places of human power and influence associated with religion and politics. The marks of the cross are a judgment (krisis) on this whole reality.

There are many gods and even very many manifestations of the real God available to us today (many partial, some more or less distorted), and so there were to Thomas and his brethren in those first days and weeks following the crucifixion of Jesus. When Thomas made his declaration about what he would and would not believe, none of these were crucified Gods or would be worthy of being believed in if they were associated with such shame and godlessness. Thomas knew how very easy it would be for his brother and sister disciples to latch onto one of these, or even to fall back on entirely traditional notions in reaction to the terribly devastating disappointment of Jesus' crucifixion. He knew, I think, how easy it might be to call the crucifixion and all it symbolized a terrible misunderstanding which God simply reversed or wiped away with the resurrection -- a distasteful chapter on which God has simply turned the page. Thomas knew that false prophets (and false "messiahs") showed up all the time. He knew that a God who is distant and all-powerful is much easier to believe in (and follow) than one who walks with us even in our sinfulness or who empties himself to become subject to the powers of sin and death, especially in the awful scandal and ignominy of the cross --- and who expects us to do essentially the same.

In other words, Thomas' doubt may have had less to do with the FACT of a resurrection, than it had to do with his concern that the disciples, in their desperation, guilt, and the immense social pressure they faced, had truly met and clung to the real Lord, the crucified One. In this way, (and only in this way!) their own discipleship could and would come to be marked by the signs of the cross as they preach, suffer, and serve in the name (and so, in the paradoxical power) of THIS Lord and no other. Only he could inspire them; only he could sustain them; only he could accompany them wherever true discipleship led them.

Paul said, "I want to know Christ crucified and only Christ crucified" because only this Christ had transformed sinful, godless reality with his presence, only this Christ had redeemed even the realms of sin and death by remaining open to God even within these realities. Only this Christ would journey with us to the unexpected and unacceptable places, and in fact, only he would meet us there with the promise and presence of a God who would bring life out of them. Thomas, I believe, knew precisely what Paul would soon proclaim himself, and it is this, I think, which stands behind his insistence on seeing the wounds and putting his fingers in the very nail holes. He wanted to be sure his brethren were putting their faith in the crucified One, the one who turned everything upside down and relativized every other picture of God we might believe in. He became the great doubter because of this, but I suspect instead, he was the most astute theologian among the original Apostles. He, like Paul, wanted to know Christ Crucified and ONLY Christ Crucified.

We should not trivialize Thomas's witness by transforming him into a run-of-the-mill empiricist and doubter (though doubting is an important piece of growth in faith)!! Instead, we should imitate his insistence: we are called upon to be followers of the Crucified God, and no other. Every version of God we meet should be closely examined for nail holes and the lance wound inflicted by the world of power and prestige. Everyone should be checked for signs that this God is capable of, as well as generous and merciful enough to assume such suffering on behalf of a creation he would reconcile and make whole. Only then do we know this IS the God proclaimed in the Gospels and the Epistles of Paul, the God of Easter, the only one worthy of being followed even into the darkest reaches of human sin and death, the only One who meets us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place; only this God is the One who makes all things new by loving us with an eternal love from which nothing at all can separate us.

The Crucified God: Emmanuel Fully Revealed in the Unexpected and Unacceptable Place (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 (that is, his entire living into death) 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 a 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 that 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, having apparently failed in his mission and shown his God to be a fraud. (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 godless death is transformed into a potential sacrament of God's presence. Finally, Jesus suffers the absolute 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.

In perhaps the most powerful passage I have ever read on the paradox of the cross of Christ, John Dwyer (my major professor until doctoral work) speaks about God's reconciling work in Jesus --- the exhaustive coming of God as Emmanuel to transform everything --- 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.

Palm Sunday: Death as the Last Enemy (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 sinful death of anyone, including his only begotten Son,  though, as we will affirm, Jesus' choices do lead to this.)

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 (and also with the world in which we live) for the sake of others and drunk to its very dregs. 

Did 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. And this is the cup Jesus says yes to, wherever it leads.

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, even godless death; 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 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 and beyond it in godless death, 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 human 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. This happens 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 Emmanuel and so, the One who will not allow the isolation nd alienation of 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. This, too, is God's will, or better said, perhaps, this is what the will of God to be Emmanuel looks like. In other words, despite so much that is not the will of God in these events, here in Christ on the Cross, heaven and earth come together as God has always willed, and as a result, there is no place where God is not personally present. Through Christ's death, there is no truly profane or godless place left in our world.

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 a new earth into existence where God will be all in all. Moreover, 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 preparation, 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 "abundantly" and 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. The Father 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 is even less so. The truth is that while death invariably intervenes in and destroys life in a bewildering variety of ways, God, in and through Jesus 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 power that 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 (sinfulness), but death is not his weapon or instrument in this; rather, it is the enemy that he vanquishes in Jesus' own obedient death, so marked as it is, by openness to God.

The Crucified God: Emmanuel Fully Revealed in the Unexpected and Even the Unacceptable Place (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 (that is, his entire living into death) 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 having apparently failed in his mission and shown his God to be a fraud. (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.

In perhaps the most powerful passage I have ever read on the paradox of the cross of Christ, John Dwyer (my major professor until doctoral work) speaks about God's reconciling work in Jesus --- the exhaustive coming of God as Emmanuel to transform everything --- 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.

Violence Sanctioned at the Heart of Christianity? (Reprise)

[[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.

Once again, On Ezekiel, the Theology of the Cross, and the Foolish Wisdom of God we call Compassion

(Turning a corner on my struggle with Ezekiel's reading of the Valley of dry bones.)

When I first met Bishop Vigneron to talk about the possibility of being professed as a diocesan hermit, he asked me who my favorite Saint was, partly as a way of breaking the ice, and partly as a way of introducing serious dimensions and getting to know me. I found myself saying, "St Paul!" -- and then, in my mind second guessing myself with thoughts like, "No, he's an Apostle, you should have said someone like John of the Cross or Teresa of Avila" and then I went on out loud to explain my choice: " I love Saint Paul's theology and especially his theology of the cross; if I could spend the rest of my life coming to understand his theology of the cross I would be a happy camper!" (And the critical part in the back of my mind was saying, Laurel!! You're speaking to a bishop. . . a happy camper? What kind of language is that??!!). 

More seriously though, as I thought about this memory while outlining a reflection on the first reading  for Friday -- Paul's comment in 1 Cor on the foolishness and wisdom of the cross --- something I also have selected in the motto on my profession ring: "God's power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9) -- I was also reminded of the truism, "Best watch out what you wish for!!" After all, it is one thing to aim for intellectual understanding of Paul's theology, another thing entirely to ask to understand the cross completely from the inside out!! And this message re the foolishness of the cross was what both I and the folks in my parish really needed to hear afresh.

You see, the past weeks have been difficult ones for our parish and those weeks were capped (for the time being) by difficulties in chapel the week before last. On Wed - Friday things came to a boil with events in our small chapel community. So, all of this was on my mind when I met with my director Friday afternoon to continue our work, to inform her of how things were going in the parish community, and also to tell her how inadequate I was feeling through all of this. I had been thinking about the first reading from that morning, the Ezekiel reading about the valley of dry bones and I found I could not it out of my mind. As I think I wrote in an earlier post, I could hear the splintering of bones as Ezekiel walked. I could not get past the question in the first portion of the lection: Can these bones live? As the reading shifted to the promise of life coming from the Word of God and the Holy Spirit and the need for Ezekiel to prophecy, I found I could not turn the corner with Ezekiel, so to speak. I could not even read the second half of the lection; I certainly couldn't believe it!

And so, at the end of our session I found myself saying, [[Marietta, I don't feel particularly faithful; I don't feel all that prayerful, or spiritual, or knowledgeable; I am not even sure I feel all that adult! I know I don't feel like I am suited to being any kind of leader in this faith community!]] At that moment I had a vivid memory of a time with my original pastor, Rev John L Brennan. It pulled everything together for me and was a complete gift of God (and, I had the sense at that moment, of John Brennan himself); it became the heart of the reflection I gave last Friday.

I was visiting Father John B in the hospital. The Archdiocese had begun, belatedly, implementing Vatican II and Father Brennan was devastated by the changes that were coming our way. We had been talking about the things we each found hard to understand in our lives --- I, a surprising Dx of epilepsy and the need to leave the Franciscans as a result, and Fr B, his own illness and even more Vatican II and its apparent ramifications for liturgy, priesthood, the laity, devotions and so much more. We were on opposite sides of the spectrum in this matter, but that was beside the point. He had catechized me and watched out for me after I was baptized. Our conversation was deep and serious. At one point Fr B held out his hands in a kind of "what are we to do gesture" and, with his eyes brimming with tears and just a bit of a self-deprecating laugh, said, [[Laurel, I don't understand ANY of this!!]] -- gesturing not just to his hospital room but to everything in the church, his pastorate, etc. Never before had I seen the depth and extent of the pain he carried for those he served!!  And, as I recounted this story to Marietta, I realized I had probably never seen a more perfect image of faithfulness, of "crucifixion" for the sake of those he loved, and of the meaning of God's power being perfected in weakness.

What I saw two Fridays ago in that memory was how John Brennan had continued to lead the parish in spite of the pain he held. He was grieving incredible loss, and struggling to continue his pastorate despite everything and he kept on keeping on. I am sure he knew precisely what I was saying to Marietta because he had felt it all himself and said so that day in the hospital. And so, from the other side of death, he, in the power of the Risen Christ, nudged my memory and gave me a wonderful picture of the foolishness of God's wisdom and the wisdom of God's foolishness. I realized that perhaps, from childhood onward, my life had helped suit me for a role as a particular kind of leader in the parish --- one who knew the call to hold the pain of this time of transition and continue to proclaim the good news of a God whose grace is sufficient for us. (2 Cor 12:9) I don't mean "hold the pain" in some kind of crude victim-soul-or-pseudo-masochistic way. I mean "hold the pain" without being destroyed by it or having one's theology distorted or one's faith crushed by it. Indeed, I mean holding the pain in a way which allows the grace of God to bring us to deeper faith. Specifically, I mean holding the pain in the way Jesus, at the very peak of human weakness and helplessness, held the anguish of our broken existence within himself in his embrace on the cross as he remained open to his Father's vindication and victory over sin and even over godless death.  In this way Jesus carried our anguish and alienation into the very heart of God making it part of God's own life and transfiguring it forever. Foolishness? Wisdom!! Compassion!!!

An Image of Compassion

A leadership with roots in the compassion of God is the kind of leadership we need today in the whole church, the kind of leadership that allows us to truly walk together in the way synodality demands. And while it does not mean I (or any of us) need to relinquish theological acumen or scholarship (or any of the gifts our communities have come to depend upon), for instance, nor to simply submit to moves by clergy rooted in a failure to listen to the whole community, it requires faith in the Word of God in which we are called to steep ourselves and a profound trust that even a valley of dry bones can echo with the sound of new life as a community is reknitted in the power of the compassion of the Crucified One. Leaders in this time of church reform and resistance to reform must struggle with the query God put to Ezekiel, "Can these bones live?" and in struggling come to a deeper faith in the power that is truly perfected in weakness, a faith that answers, [[Yes, even if I cannot see how or when!!]]

Second Sunday of Easter: What's Thomas' Doubt About? (Reprise)

Today's Gospel focuses on the appearances of Jesus to the disciples, and one of the lessons one should draw from these stories is that we are indeed dealing with bodily resurrection, and especially, with a kind of bodiliness which transcends the corporeality we know here and now. In other words, it is very clear that Jesus' presence among his disciples is not simply a spiritual one, and that part of Christian hope is the hope that we, precisely as embodied persons, will come to perfection beyond the limits of death. It is not just our souls which are meant to be part of the new heaven and earth, but our whole selves, body and soul, (and in fact, the whole of creation is meant to be renewed)!

The scenario with Thomas continues this theme but is contextualized in a way which leads homilists to focus on the whole dynamic of faith with seeing, and faith despite not having seen. It also makes doubt the same as unbelief and plays these off against faith --- as though faith cannot also be served by doubt. But doubt and unbelief are decidedly NOT the same things. We rarely see Thomas as the one whose doubt (or whose demands!) SERVES true faith, and yet, that is what today's Gospel is about. Meanwhile, Thomas also tends to get a bad rap as the one who was separated from the community and doubted what he had not seen with his own eyes. The corollary here is often perceived to be that Thomas will not simply listen to his brother and sister disciples and believe that the Lord has appeared to or visited them. But I think there is something far more significant going on in Thomas' proclamation that unless he sees the wounds inflicted on Jesus in the crucifixion, and even puts his fingers in the very nail holes, he will not believe.

What Thomas, I think, wants to make very clear is that we Christians believe in a crucified Christ, and that the resurrection was God's act of validation of Jesus as scandalously and ignominiously Crucified. I think Thomas knows on some level anyway, that insofar as the resurrection really occurred, it does not nullify what was achieved on the cross. Instead, it renders permanently valid what was revealed (made manifest and made real) there. In other words, Thomas knows if the resurrection is really God's validation of Jesus' life and establishes him as God's Christ, the Lord he will meet is the one permanently established and marked as the crucified One. The crucifixion was not some great misunderstanding which could be wiped away by resurrection. Instead, it was an integral part of the revelation of the nature of truly human and truly divine existence. Whether it is the Divine life, authentic human existence, or sinful human life --- all are marked and revealed in one way or another by the signs of Jesus' cross. For instance, ours is a God who has journeyed to the very darkest, godless places or realms human sin produces, and has become Lord of even those places. He does not disdain them even now but is marked by them and will journey with us there --- whether we are open to him doing so or not --- because Jesus has implicated God there and marked him with the wounds of an exhaustive kenosis.

Another piece of this is that Jesus is, as Paul tells us, the end of the Law and it was Law (combined with human sinfulness) that crucified him. The nail holes and wounds in Jesus' side and head -- indeed every laceration which marked him -- are a sign of legal execution -- both in terms of Jewish and Roman law. We cannot forget this, and Thomas' insistence that he really be dealing with the Crucified One reminds us vividly of this fact as well. The Jewish and Roman leaders did not crucify Jesus because they misunderstood him, but because they understood all-too-clearly both Jesus and the immense power he wielded in his weakness and poverty. They understood that he could turn the values of this world, its notions of power, authority, etc., on their heads. They knew that he could foment profound revolution (religious and otherwise) wherever he had followers. They chose to have him crucified not only to put an end to his life, but to demonstrate he was a fraud who could not possibly have come from God; they chose to crucify (or have him crucified) to terrify those who might follow him into all the places discipleship might really lead them --- especially those places of human power and influence associated with religion and politics. The marks of the cross are a judgment (krisis) on this whole reality.

There are many gods and even very many manifestations of the real God available to us today (many partial, some more or less distorted), and so there were to Thomas and his brethren in those first days and weeks following the crucifixion of Jesus. When Thomas made his declaration about what he would and would not believe, none of these were crucified Gods or would be worthy of being believed in if they were associated with such shame and godlessness. Thomas knew how very easy it would be for his brother and sister disciples to latch onto one of these, or even to fall back on entirely traditional notions in reaction to the terribly devastating disappointment of Jesus' crucifixion. He knew, I think, how easy it might be to call the crucifixion and all it symbolized a terrible misunderstanding which God simply reversed or wiped away with the resurrection -- a distasteful chapter on which God has simply turned the page. Thomas knew that false prophets (and false "messiahs") showed up all the time. He knew that a God who is distant and all-powerful is much easier to believe in (and follow) than one who walks with us even in our sinfulness or who empties himself to become subject to the powers of sin and death, especially in the awful scandal and ignominy of the cross --- and who expects us to do essentially the same.

In other words, Thomas' doubt may have had less to do with the FACT of a resurrection, than it had to do with his concern that the disciples, in their desperation, guilt, and the immense social pressure they faced, had truly met and clung to the real Lord, the crucified One. In this way, and only in this way!) their own discipleship could and would come to be marked by the signs of the cross as they preach, suffer, and serve in the name (and so, in the paradoxical power) of THIS Lord and no other. Only he could inspire them; only he could sustain them; only he could accompany them wherever true discipleship led them.

Paul said, "I want to know Christ crucified and only Christ crucified" because only this Christ had transformed sinful, godless reality with his presence, only this Christ had redeemed even the realms of sin and death by remaining open to God even within these realities. Only this Christ would journey with us to the unexpected and unacceptable places, and in fact, only he would meet us there with the promise and presence of a God who would bring life out of them. Thomas, I believe, knew precisely what Paul would soon proclaim himself, and it is this, I think, which stands behind his insistence on seeing the wounds and putting his fingers in the very nail holes. He wanted to be sure his brethren were putting their faith in the crucified One, the one who turned everything upside down and relativized every other picture of God we might believe in. He became the great doubter because of this, but I suspect instead, he was the most astute theologian among the original Apostles. He, like Paul, wanted to know Christ Crucified and ONLY Christ Crucified.

We should not trivialize Thomas' witness by transforming him into a run of the mill empiricist and doubter (though doubting is an important piece of growth in faith)!! Instead, we should imitate his insistence: we are called upon to be followers of the Crucified God, and no other. Every version of God we meet should be closely examined for nail holes and the lance wound inflicted by the world of power and prestige. Everyone should be checked for signs that this God is capable of, as well as generous and merciful enough to assume such suffering on behalf of a creation he would reconcile and make whole. Only then do we know this IS the God proclaimed in the Gospels and the Epistles of Paul, the God of Easter, the only one worthy of being followed even into the darkest reaches of human sin and death, the only One who meets us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place; only this God is the One who makes all things new by loving us with an eternal love from which nothing at all can separate us.