Essay on Lent
The season of Lent theologically is an invitation to reflect upon the human condition. It holds up a mirror and challenges us to look past the lies and self-deception that invade our view of ourselves and our views of humanity. We are not the people who love truth, desire the good, or are as beautiful as we like to imagine ourselves to be. Human beings have an ugliness that shows itself in human history, a moral weakness that his has inflicted untold horrors upon creation and upon fellow human beings, and a delusion that we are honest seekers of truth. Lent does this moving us through various texts that culminate in the cross. In the process, the Old Testament lessons and readings from the psalms anticipate what the New Testament will describe. Thus, a succession of covenants with humanity through Noah, with the family of Abraham and his descendants, with Israel through Moses, with House of David, all of which humanity break, using the Ten Commandments as the lens through which we can see this, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and II Isaiah pen the path toward the promise of new covenant that will apply Torah directly to the human heart, democratizing the priestly function, and making of Israel a royal house as an unexpected way of God remaining faithful to the promise to the House of David. The sufferings of Jeremiah and Ezekiel, as well as the role of suffering in some psalms and in II Isaiah, prepare the way for a re-thinking of the covenant development we find in the Old Testament that opens the door for a new covenant through the word, deed, suffering, and death, of Jesus, in which Jesus becomes the one who fulfills the will of the Father in shaping Adam, in calling Abraham to believe in the promise, in calling a people to live in obedience to the Father, in calling priest and king to fulfill their roles faithfully, and in being a faithful prophetic life and word to his time. All of this will require careful attention, for failing to understand this movement toward the significance of the cross can lead one to multiple difficulties which I will try to avoid. If the Christian claim to truth has any validity, it is because of its claim to be a continuation of the promises of the God of Israel in Jesus of Nazareth as the Son sent from the Father to bring liberation, healing, and guidance in the formation of a flourishing human life, through the life-giving power of the Spirit.
I have several ways of approaching the study of the texts for Lent. One is with an essay that will take the reader through the primary theological themes of the biblical texts for Lent. My extensive essay on the Ten Commandments deserves separate attention. If you prefer closer attention to the theological significance of individual texts, in invite you to read my discussion of the psalm and Old Testament, the epistle, the Gospellessons for the Season of Lent, and theological reflections on Holy Week and the Passion Narratives.
The following is a traditional approach to the season.
The word "Lent" comes from the Middle English word lente which means "springtime. This word, in turn, is related to the Old English word lengten and to the Old High German word lenzin which mean spring.
In Scripture, it is clear from the Gospel accounts of the last days of Jesus that he died during the Passover season. This was an Important celebration of the deliverance from Egypt. The recollection of this event became the focal—point of national feelings and hope of the coming redemption. The feast itself originates in the nomadic days of the people, from the time of departure for new pastures. A yearling lamb was slain by the head of the household at sundown on the 14th Nisan. See Exodus 12. The blood was sprinkled on the entry to the tent, and after being settled In Palestine, on the doorposts and 1 intel of the house. The Josianic reform of 621 BC had the killing and eating of the Passover take place in Jerusalem. The blood was now sprinkled on the altar. The placement of the festival in Jerusalem made it a pilgrimage with a liturgy used during the meal. See Deuteronomy 16: 5—7, Il Kings 23: 21—23, Il Chronicles 35: 1, 11.[1]
Jesus himself, in the words of Institution, said, "This is my body" and "This Is my blood." That terminology is sacrificial and invited an identification between the death of Jesus and the Passover lamb. Paul, in I Corinthians 5: 7-8, makes a casual reference to Christ being the Passover lamb.'
Cleanse out the old leaven that you may be a new lump, as you really are unleavened. For Christ, our paschal Iamb, has been sacrificed. Let us, therefore, celebrate the festival, not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.
Peter also makes a reference to this connection in I Peter 1:18-19:
You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways Inherited from your fathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a Iamb without blemish or spot.
In John 1:29, 36, Jesus is referred to as the Iamb of God which takes away the sins of the world, a clear reference to the Passover Iamb. Revelation 5 would also be a clear reference to Christ as the Passover lamb. These references all suggest that there has been a shift of focus in the celebration of the Christian Passover. While Jewish people look back to the deliverance from Egypt, Christians look back to the death of Christ as deliverance from sin and death. The Jewish Passover provided the church with rich Imagery for Its own understanding of salvation.
There was a steady development in the history of the church toward focusing the church year on the Pascha. In the second and third centuries, the Pascha itself was the focus of the church year. This was the time when new converts were baptized, hands laid upon them, and there was first communion. The process began, according to Hippolytus, with a fast on Friday and Saturday, with a prayer vigil maintained all day Saturday by the new converts. This period was designed to be an Intense spiritual preparation for those about to be baptized.
Egeria in the fourth century made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The events of Holy Week were chronicled. The services began in various parts of the city for each day of the week, beginning with Palm Sunday and using the Gospel accounts of the final week of Jesus life. Some would say this was an attempt to be too 1 iteral or historical with the celebration, but In reality, it may have provided a meaningful spiritual experience for pilgrims and new converts.
In the fourth century, a division occurred over the date of the celebration. In the West, the date we now observe was accepted, In the East, churches like the Orthodox Church continued to observe the celebration at the same time the Jewish Passover. This may have been due to the desire to connect it with the pagan German spring celebration. The Council of Nicaea in 325 is the first recorded incidence of referring to Lent as "Forty Days". Bishop Cyril of Jerusalem had a famous set of lectures in 348 In which he prepared the new converts for their baptism on Easter Sunday. Fasting and penitence became important.
It is also important to note that the Sundays of Lent were never counted as part of the forty days, since they were always to be celebration of the resurrection.[2]
It was not until the ninth century that Ash Wednesday was officially recognized. Penitents were dismissed before the Eucharist and the seven penitential psalms were used as part of the service. From the ninth to the 13th century Lent became a time of penance for all persons, and not just new converts and those who had fallen away.[3]
My own experience of Lent has been extremely limited. The church in which I grew up was not a liturgical church. Outside of a Good Friday Service and a large Easter celebration, there was extraordinarily little said about Lent. I have since discovered that this would be typical of the experience of most Protestants.
For me, the above study raises the issue of how my spiritual life can be enriched by the season of Lent. It also raises the issue of how the life of the church can be expanded by the experience of Lent.
One of the themes throughout is the connection between the death of Christ and the Jewish Passover. The biblical part of this study reveals that the early church made a direct correlation between the slaying of the lamb at Passover and the death of Christ, a relationship established by Jesus. Thus, there is an emphasis upon that death as a sacrifice symbolizing salvation. More specifically, the biblical texts make a direct connection between this understanding of the death of Christ and salvation from sin and death. Thus, Lent can be a time of focusing our attention upon these realities.
Another theme which emerges in the tradition is that fasting and repentance were significant to the Lenten season. Clearly this is the way in which the early church sought to make the benefits of the death of Christ real in the church and in believers. The connection with baptism is a reminder of this. Baptism is a burial with Christ and a resurrection with Christ, done on Easter Sunday as a strong symbol of that reality. There is symbolized here a death to sin and new life in Christ. Repentance was a specific turning from sin and to God. Fasting was turning a good and necessary thing, such as food, in order to heighten one's dependence upon God. This seems to be where the idea of giving up something for Lent comes from. Not only was there a fast from food, but there was also to be a fast from something else that might be good in itself, but which the individual could give up in order to focus attention more directly upon Christ.
A third theme, may seem to contradict the above, is that there is a sense of joy and celebration. Of course, it is difficult to have that spirit when the focus is the cross. And yet, the biblical and traditional elements do have a note of celebration about the deliverance won by God in that event. Therefore, it is not necessary to carry some of the heavy mournful attitude, which some people approach this season. It is not a time for sadness.
Fourth, it may be that this is the season for individuals and churches to add disciplines which will enhance awareness of spiritual things. This may include fasting; it may include special bible studies and other special services. The season is, after all, built upon a metaphor with the biblical images of the number "forty. " Moses was on Mount Sinai for that period. The Israelites were in the wilderness for 40 years. Jesus was tempted forty days. This was a symbol meeting with God. In the same way, we can set aside some special time during the year to make ourselves especially available to God.
Spring was a time filled with new life, when the vegetation that had slept through the winter arose fresh and alive again, and when birth abounded. The Druids celebrated these gifts with a festival to the goddess of fertility, Estre, whose symbol was the egg. Why did the early use ostrich eggs as part of its Lent observance? The mother ostrich lays her eggs in the sand and carefully covers the spot so that other animals cannot find them. She covers them so well, in fact, that if she looks away from the hiding place, she will lose them herself. She must therefore stand in rigid attention, staring straight at the spot, looking neither to the left nor to the right. No distraction, no temptation can cause her to look away, because her focused attention is a matter of life and death importance to the future of her offspring. Her example has been helpful to generations of Christians who need to be reminded to look straight at God..."
Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the Lenten season, which lasts until the Easter Vigil. While Ash Wednesday, the day when the church marked the heads of the faithful with the burned remains of the palms used in the procession of the previous year's Sunday preceding Easter, mixing them with olive oil as a fixative, began the observance with a fast, setting the tone for the weekdays in the cycle. In the Roman Catholic Church observes Ash Wednesday by fasting, abstinence (from meat), and repentance—a day of contemplating one's transgressions. The ashes are sacramentals, not a sacrament. The service includes reading of the seven penitential psalms. On Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, the Romans Catholic Church permits adherents between the ages of 18 and 59 to consume only one full meal, which one may supplement by two smaller meals, which together should not equal the full meal. Many Catholics will go beyond the minimum obligations demanded by the Church and undertake a complete fast or a bread and water fast. Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are also days of abstinence from meat, as are all Fridays in Lent. Many Catholics continue fasting during the whole of lent, as was the Church's traditional requirement, concluding only after the celebration of the Easter Vigil. The Lord's Days, which marked the resurrection of Christ and his victory over death, remained times of joy. The only muted one was Palm Sunday, the "Day of Palms," which ushered in Holy Week and the crucifixion.
Lent is a time for "taking stock" of one's life. Sin, repentance, forgiveness are themes of this Holy Season. Forgiveness! It's one of those difficult virtues -- a sign of mature faithful Christian discipleship. Like loving your enemy and praying for those who do you harm, it is easier said than done. But they are explicit commands of our Lord. Yet Lent is especially about forgiveness and repentance. It is hard to miss these themes of the forty-day period in the Christian calendar. If Lent is only a time when one ponders his or her own need for forgiveness, and not the opportunity to offer it to others, we miss its true discipleship meaning.
Sometimes confession is too general. In our corporate worship setting, prayers of confession to God, while often quite specific in character, are general in application. We find it easy to think of such sins as referring to someone else. General confession often lets us off the hook. They talk about liberals, conservatives, Republicans, Democrats, clergy, or laity. It is hard for such general confessions to find me.
We confess sins of arrogance, prejudice, injustice, selfishness, unfaithfulness, and the like. These are appropriate prayers, providing us an opportunity to acknowledge our shortcomings. It is not enough. Confessions to God alone about our misdeeds are insufficient.
One person has commented, “My heart has committed sins that my hands haven't gotten around to yet.”[4]
Pascal said that if everyone knew the innermost thoughts of everyone else, there would not be five friends left on Earth.
Some people are so difficult for me to love. Some people have said things about me or done things to me, which makes it difficult for me love. Yet, I remember what Jesus what did. I have not endured anything like he did.
Forgiveness is difficult for us human beings. Family members go for years without speaking to each other because of some spoken word or incident that brought pain. The wall, once erected, seems impossible to tear down. Those who love each other deeply sometimes hurt each other the most. Without intending to inflict pain, it so easily is accomplished. It is so difficult to say those words: “I am sorry . . . I forgive you.”
If we are not amazed at the love and grace of God that accepts us and forgives us, despite such failings, then we do not know ourselves very well. We have not yet seen how terrible we can be.
Nothing can happen without the truth. No cleansing can occur unless you put aside foolishness and confess the truth about your life. You can experience no inner wisdom, joy, or gladness until you admit that you need forgiveness. You must say, "I'm not who you think I am. I'm really a sinner." God will not bust you; God will forgive you.
Lent is a season of confession and repentance. For most Christian churches, it will be a time of genuine and sincere confession. It will be a time of cleansing and emptying. It will be a time of recalling wrongs and failures. Too often however, the begging of forgiveness is only to God. Some confession, I am convinced, is for God alone. We ought not to burden others with everything that we have thought, said, or done. Some confession is for God alone. However, not all confession is that way.
In its simplest expression, confession is the utterance, “I’m sorry,” or “forgive me.” These words are always appropriate as we approach God. Despite ourselves, we fail. Yet sometimes prayer to God alone is the effortless way out. Corporate prayer can permit us to hide in the crowd! The prayer must become personal even when it is corporate. Sin by word, thought and deed always has an object: A person, group, loved one, colleague, or adversary. Sin is never without focus. We direct such thoughts, words, or deeds at someone: Harsh words, ill will, and misdeed. Even when the object of ill will and ill thought or misdeed is unaware of its origin, it is nonetheless damaging to the spirit. To cause harm to the spirit is still harm, even if we have spared the body.
How will you use Lent this year? Will you keep it general, safe, and hidden in the crowd? Will you avoid those wronged or wounded? It could be that the greatest wrong may have been to your own spirit. Yet release and healing cannot occur until you make the confession to the object of ill will. It is often awkward, sometimes difficult to seek forgiveness of another. This difficulty doubles if we believe feelings of ill will has warranted or deserved it. We are in the right. We are standing up for justice.
What drives me to beg for and offer forgiveness to others is my realization, indeed hope, that God is not keeping score of my transgressions! My thoughts, words and deeds become a weight to my soul. God’s gracious patience and inexhaustible love make possible the facing of each new day, another challenge a new temptation. As much as I need love and acceptance of others is the need for forgiveness.
The Science Editor of the L.A. Times said something to the effect of, "If you consider that every cell, molecule and atom in your body is replaced every seven years, it means that, physically, there is no part of you that was a part of you seven years ago. That means that we are a collection of patterns." Lent is a perfect time to evaluate and change our patterns. Forty days are an ideal amount of time to replace bad patterns with positive ones. Patterns of diet and exercise. Patterns of thought. Patterns of prayer. Patterns of stewardship. Patterns of...? "Now is the time. Now is the day of Salvation!" (II Cor 6:2).
Yes, it is hard to believe. We think of ourselves as such wonderful people. The way some of us act, it is a wonder Jesus ever had to die. We are such good people. Let us not fool each other. Let us admit that it was indeed for us that he died. We committed crimes against God and each other that made the cross necessary.
It is time to take a moment to account for ourselves. To say to the Lord God, "I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence" (Psalm 51: 3-4). God knows exactly what you have done, even after years of running and hiding. But God's not interested in locking you up. No, God wants only to free you up. Free you through forgiveness.
So, it makes the telephone call a bit easier, the letter not so difficult, the meeting bearable, when in the moment of greatest vulnerability I find the courage to say, “Forgive me.” Or, “I forgive you.” Or “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused.” Or “I forgive you for the pain you’ve caused me.” If Lent is to find its full expression in our spirit, then our prayers of confession and gift of forgiveness cannot remain in the safe place of generality, but finally must find rest in the utterly personal. Someone is waiting![5]
I could not help but think how ungracious people can be with one another as they notice the imperfections and the weaknesses and the sins. It is frightfully easy to become so focused upon the weakness in others that we act as if there really is no hope for the other person. Sometimes this can be especially true of people in the church. We have such lofty ideals. And that is good. We strive for perfection, and that, too, is good. And yet, what happens when someone falls short of that ideal? Too often, the church can dismiss the person so quickly. It is important for us to have grace with one another. We do not give up our ideals in the process. Instead, we practice an especially important Christian virtue. We learn to accept and to love one another as we are. We need to know that others can look at us in our imperfections and still love us. I cannot think of any calling which could be higher than to form a community of people who can do that for one another.
The other side to this is that we also need to experience that grace toward ourselves. We can be so hard on ourselves. Again, the ideals are there for us. We make mistakes, we blow it, and we wonder if we will be of any use to others or to God.
One person produced this image. Too often, we act as if our lives like crystal. If it brakes on the floor, it shatters into many pieces. One cannot realistically put it back together. Too many people assume that our lives are that way. If we fall short of our ideals, somehow, we view the damage as unrepairable. We need to think of our lives with a different image. Our lives are more like silly putty. One can beat it down, drop it, step on it, and yet can still use it. There are many ways in which life can beat us down. And yet, God has made us in such a way that God can still mold us in ways that our lives remain useful in the service of the purpose of God. Indeed, it may well be through our brokenness that we will find our greatest usefulness in serving God and one another.
For me, however, this recognition of the need for grace with one another and with ourselves begins with the awareness that we have first experienced a God of grace and mercy. Job believes God is punishing him far beyond anything which he had done to deserve. He finally asks God this challenging question: "Can you not tolerate my sin, not overlook my fault?" (Job 7:21) Job wanted to know if God could look at him in his sinfulness and weakness and still accept and love him. He wanted to know if God would have grace and mercy with him.
In Jesus, God has said "Yes" to us. God knows us inside and out. God knows the weak side of ourselves, as well as the giftedness of our lives. In Jesus, we know that God is gracious and merciful to us, accepting us as we are. With that foundation, we can move out into the world with a more gracious spirit, toward ourselves and toward one another.
I will be offering my studies of the Scriptures for Lent. A feature of these studies is that Homiletics, a lectionary magazine, has been a constant partner in my ministry, as have the theologians Karl Barth and Wolfhart Pannenberg.
I invite you to consider Ash Wednesday.
There is nothing pretty about dust. To call someone dust in any other context would be fighting' words. Do not call me dirt. So why do we do this strange thing on this day. Remember, you are nothing but dust. What is this about?
First, dust is the material of a beloved creation. We cannot—must not—despise this loving work…. Remember that you are dust. You are not worth much as a commodity, but you are loved, beloved, shaped, molded, caressed, nurtured by the Loving God who made the stars and the moon, all the creatures of this world. Remember you are dust—precious, precious dust.
Second, this day reminds us of our mortality. "Dust your are and to dust you shall return."
We say similar words at the graveside, "We commit this body to its final resting place, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
It is not morbid to think about death; it is just the reality we all face. Death is the great equalizer. In death, there are no presidents of corporations, no deans of universities, no lowly janitors, no prisoners, no homeless on the street, no rich folks, no poor folks. All of us are in the hands of the loving God—that is it. The trinkets of honor and position are dust and ashes. The shame from others' judgments is dust and ashes. When we remember, to dust you shall return, we remember that we are made for more than trinkets or shame. God has made us for life with God, now and forever.
This path of death and resurrection, of radical centering in God, may mean for some of us that we need to die to specific things in our lives. We may need to die to a behavior or a pattern of behavior that has become destructive or dysfunctional. We may need to die to a relationship that has ended or gone bad. We may need to die to an unresolved grief that needs to be let go of. We may need to die to a career or job that has either been taken from us or that no longer nourishes us. We may even need to die to a deadness in our lives.
We are human beings, dust, beloved of God; we—each one of us—are of ultimate worth. We are created for eternity! What is someone's criticism compared to that? We are free, free of others' judgment.…
We spend so much energy on things that do not matter: how we look—what people think of us—what we have or what others have— if we will get a promotion—whose sports team is going to win. We spend so much energy on things that do not matter.
This, of course, is why Lent is a period of self-examination and penance. We need to stop and look at our lives—remember what we are made of, remember where we are going—and let go of all those things that do not really matter, all those things that get in the way of loving God, loving others, and being loved by God and by others.
Remember, you are nothing but dust: Precious dust, molded and formed in the womb by a loving God, precious and beloved are you.
Remember, you are nothing but dust, and to dust shall you return: Unique and precious, you are created for eternity.
Remember, you are nothing but dust: And that makes you free—free from human ambition—free from prideful denial —free from fear—free; free at last!
Here are my reflections on the scriptures for Ash Wednesday (All Years)
Lent is about mortality and transformation. We begin the season of Lent on Ash Wednesday with the sign of the cross smeared on our foreheads with ashes as the words are spoken over us, "Dust thou art, and to dust thou wilt return." We begin this season of Lent not only reminded of our death, but also marked for death.
The Lenten journey, with its climax in Holy Week and Good Friday and Easter, is about participating in the death and resurrection of Jesus. Put abstractly, this means dying to an old identity—the identity conferred by culture, by tradition, by parents, perhaps—and being born into a new identity—an identity centered in the Spirit of God. It means dying to an old way of being, and being born into a new way of being, a way of centering once again in God.
Put slightly more concretely, this path of death and resurrection, of radical centering in God, may mean for some of us that we need to die to specific things in our lives—perhaps to a behavior or a pattern of behavior that has become destructive or dysfunctional; perhaps to a relationship that has ended or gone bad; perhaps to an unresolved grief that needs to be let go of; perhaps to a career or job that has either been taken from us or that no longer nourishes us; or perhaps even we need to die to a deadness in our lives.
You can even die to deadness, and this dying is also oftentimes a daily rhythm in our lives—that daily occurrence that happens to some of us as we remind ourselves of the reality of God in our relationship to God; that reminder that can take us out of ourselves, lift us out of our confinement, take away our feeling of burden and weighing down by the challenges of life.
That is the first focal point of a life that takes Jesus seriously: that radical centering in the Spirit of God that is at the very center of the Christian life.[6]
Here are my reflections on the Scriptures for the Sundays in Lent.
First Sunday in Lent
Year A
Year B
Year C
Second Sunday in Lent
Year A
Year B
Year C
Third Sunday in Lent
Year A
Year B
Old Testament Ten Commandments: Introduction, 1-4, 5-10
Year C
Fourth Sunday in Lent
Year A
Year B
Year C
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Year A
Year B
Year C
I invite you to ponder Holy Week. The lectionary invites us to repeat this painful memory every year.
What does repetition mean in our lives? For those with cable television, for example, you will likely find The Shawshank Redemption somewhere. This brutal but uplifting story of an innocent man beating the cruelty and evil of a mid-20th-century prison and escaping to freedom is a story many of us do not repeating. It did not win the best picture of 1995, which went to Forrest Gump. Repeating movies is not a favorite pastime of mine, so once is normally enough. I like to watch Groundhog Day in February. Déjà vu is another movie I like to watch occasionally. Star Wars is a series of movies I like to watch for its overarching myth of good battling evil. Some old movies, such as An Affair to Remember, I will enjoy again.
I have read and re-read some books. Theologian Wolfhart Pannenberg has kept me coming back to read and re-read. Part of Karl Barth Church Dogmatics keeps returning to me. Something about Friedrich Schleiermacher keeps me coming back. Some philosophers, especially Descartes, Locke, Hume, Kant, Hegel, Whitehead, and Charles Taylor, I tend to keep close and keep finding new insights. I read Nietzsche more than once, but mostly because he gets things wrong in such an interesting way. Some books I would like to read more often I do, such as Lord of the Rings. If we expand our consideration of repetition to music, I am sure most of us have artists and individual songs to which we keep coming back for a variety of reasons.[7]
Our culture seems to value the new. Why do we spend so much time with stories we already know? Soren Kierkegaard authored a book on repetition. He said that which one repeats has been, otherwise one could not repeat. The fact that it has been makes the repetition into something new. Frankly, this is a difficult book. For most of us, if we were going to understand it, it would be through reading it repeatedly. Yet, if we receive new insights in each reading and gain in our understanding, have we repeated? Has not the book become something new to us?
Think of why we repeat many things in our lives. Here are the traditional categories.
We may develop habits, such as running or other exercise for a physical discipline. We do not need to think about them, and that is their value.
We may repeat because of an addiction, which is like a habit on evil steroids.
We may develop a ritual, such as what to do on Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year. They are ritual, and not habit or addiction, because they are symbolic and expressive. The ritual does not rule us. Rather, we choose ritual because of the symbolic meaning the ritual has to us. Private moments of meditation and corporate worship for spiritual discipline, can become ritual in that sense.
Status quo bias is an interesting reason for repetition as well. People tend to stick with previous decisions because of the cost of coming to a new decision is mentally exhausting. “I do not love this job, but whatever. I do not want to look for a new one.” We grow accustomed to certain political views we no longer question or to certain stores at which we also shop.
The research of Cristel Antonia Russell and Sidney Levy discusses the notion of repetition under dissimilar categories than the ones I just mentioned.
One reason we repeat is not complicated. We simply like it. They call it “reconstructive consumption.” In this case, repetition breeds affection, the contrast to the notion that familiarity breeds contempt. One might say that repetition can make one feel like one has come home. Their scientific term is “mere exposure effect." This scientific expression explains why we watch repeatedly Tim Robbins' character Andy Dufresne burst through that disgusting sewer pipe during his escape from Shawshank. It is the theory that we like something simply because a previous experience exposed us to it. Familiarity may breed contempt, as the old saying goes, but it can also turn a film into a cult classic.
They identify a second reason for repetition as nostalgia. It can be nice to remember the past merely because it is past. Clay Routledge refers to the historical dimension of nostalgia and the autobiographical dimension of nostalgia. We may have a fondness of the way things were. However, on the personal side exposure to songs we liked in our youth makes us feel loved and worthy. It simply makes us feel good.
A third reason is therapeutic. One can take a journey now because one took a similar journey earlier in one’s life. If one has been a pastor in a certain area for 40 years, for example, the pastor may want to make sure to visit each of the churches at some point near retirement. It can be a therapeutic journey. One can re-read a book or re-see a movie, not just because of repetition, but also because of a need to reconcile oneself with one’s past. It becomes a pilgrimage or sentimental journey. Applied to movies and books, repetition means they cannot surprise us. We know how they end. We know how we will feel when they end. Something new may be exciting in its discovery, but it may also prove to be a waste of time and disappoint us.
Their fourth reason for repetition is existential. Russell and Levy put it this way.
The dynamic linkages between one’s past, present, and future experiences through the re-consumption of an object allow existential understanding. Reengaging with the same object, even just once, allows a reworking of experiences as consumers consider their own particular enjoyments and understandings of choices they have made.
This is not mere nostalgia or therapy. It is pop culture as palimpsest—an old memory, overlaid with new perspective.
On the other side of this, however, are the films that are really, good but so difficult to watch that most of us will only want to see them once. The brutal first sequence of Saving Private Ryan with its realistic portrayal of D-Day, or the senseless violence and inhumanity of Schindler's List, for example, are hard to watch once, let alone multiple times. The viewer does not want to go through that emotional pain again -- even if both films are cinematic masterpieces. We tend to see Saving Private Ryan on TV only during Memorial and Veterans days and Schindler's List rarely because programmers seem to realize that they are difficult to revisit. (Some other films that fall into this category are the post-apocalyptic father-son drama The Road, Nicolas Cage drinking himself to death in Leaving Las Vegas or the haunting fight over a home in House of Sand and Fog. Kate Winslet may be the queen of "one and done" films, with movies like Revolutionary Road, Little Children, and The Reader to her credit.) You will not see any of these flicks very often on TV or in your local DVD vending machine, either, even though critics acclaim them as among the best.
The most difficult of these "once is enough" films, however, is Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. Time magazine made it the number 1 ridiculously violent film, although looking at the rest of the list, this judgment seems politically or anti-Christian motivated. The film portrays the brutality of Jesus’ crucifixion with so much blood and pain that critic Roger Ebert, who might have seen more movies than any person has ever seen, called it the most violent film he had ever watched. Slate critic David Edelstein reviewed it as "The Jesus Chainsaw Massacre." It is arguably one of the most difficult films to watch in the history of cinema, and yet, not only did it gross more than $370 million during its theater run, it also sold 4.1 million copies of the DVD on its release date. Some movies may be difficult to watch more than once. Yet, they may also remind us of some important truths that we are afraid to confront.
Repetition is an interesting phenomenon. Yet, combined with that, why is once enough for other experiences? What might we be trying to avoid?
The passion narrative in all four gospels is a difficult read. Yet, I have done it every year since the mid-1970s. The story reveals truths about God and humanity that I find difficult to face.
Palm/Passion Sunday
Service of the Palms
Service of the Word
Holy Thursday
Good Friday
The crowds that normally pressed in tight around him made way, decorating the dusty ground with the shirts off their backs and branches freshly cut from palm trees. He came riding in on a borrowed donkey, humbling himself even as the people praised him. They honored him as the king who would conquer; rejoicing at the entrance of the man they hoped was their awaited Messiah. They shouted, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” Days later, they crucified him.
Palm Sunday commemorates Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem and marking the beginning of Holy Week. This last week of Lent leads us into the celebration of Easter—the most important celebration of the Christian faith. During Holy Week, many in the church meditate upon the suffering Jesus endured on our behalf, knowing that this meditation will make the joy of Easter so much sweeter. Some churches set up “stations of the cross”—artistic representations of Jesus’ path to his death—for visitors to slowly make their way through, reflect on and pray over.
The point, like all of Lent, is to help us remember, to help us dig into and dwell upon the richness of this faith we cling to. The point is to marinate in it—in the story, in its meaning, in the person of Jesus Christ.
Jesus suffered in every form imaginable, but still, even more than we could ever imagine. The bodily torture he endured was only the surface of his sacrifice, and the pain grew worse as the wounds reached deeper. Crowds beat him. Guards, drunk so they could carry out his gruesome punishment, flogged him within an inch of his life using a whip of many tails, laden with bits of metal and bone which sank into his skin as it wrapped around his body, ripping away chunks of flesh as it pulled back for another lashing. A crown of thorns dug into the skin that stretched over his throbbing head. He carried a rugged, splintering bed of torture on his raw back, collapsing under its weight, staggering, and straining forward again, his vision blurred by the blood and sweat that poured into his eyes. Finally, Roman soldiers drove the nails through his feet and hands. His whole bodyweight dragged against those small points of pressure as the guards lifted him up and dropped the base of the cross into a hole in the hill. He hung there for hours; using what strength he had left to strain against his nails so he could lift his chest to breathe, the wood of the cross scraping up and down his body like sandpaper, up and down with every breath until his last.
But no physical pain could match the excruciating betrayal and abandonment. One of his disciples handed him over to his death for a bribe of silver, and all his friends fled in fear as he was arrested, leaving him utterly alone. Then came the accusations. Though he was innocent, Jewish and Roman authorities accused him of horrible crimes. As the hatred poured over him and the physical abuse began, his best friend denied knowing him three times in front of the crowds. The enemies of Jesus covered him in spit and drenched him in mockery. “Prophesy to us, you Messiah! Who hit you that time?” Then Roman authority gave the crowd a choice; release Jesus or release a notorious murderer. They chose to let the murderer go free. Jesus heard the crowds shouting for his death, demanding and chanting, “Crucify him!”
Yet, during the passion of Christ, we find hope.
The mockery became more brutal still. The guards stripped him naked, and then dressed him like a “king” with a scarlet robe, a stick scepter, and a crown of thorns. They knelt before him and jeered, “Hail! King of the Jews!” beating and spitting and laughing until they were bored with it all and led him away. Even as he hung on the cross, the mockery continued. “Look at you now… if you are the Son of God, save yourself!” They did not know that he could have, but that he chose not to for their sakes—for ours, too.
Jesus’ blood began to pour before his physical torture began. Knowing what was to come, he prayed in such anguish that his sweat was bloody. It was not just the impending physical pain and heartbreak that caused him such anguish. It was a pain much more severe, one that only God was capable of feeling and enduring.
Jesus was the only man to have ever enjoyed complete unity with God the Father—the only man who always received what he asked for when he prayed because his will was entirely in line with Heaven’s. He knew the wholeness that each of us crave because he knew God the Father intimately. His relationship with the Father was so complete that it alone sustained him throughout his 40-day temptation and trial in the desert wilderness. But the night of his arrest, that relationship began to tear. “Father, everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering from me.” For the first time, Jesus cried out to God and heard only silence. Yet willingly, he offered, “Let your will be done.” Jürgen Moltmann wrote, “Christ’s true passion begins with the prayer in Gethsemane which was not heard, which was rejected through the divine silence; for his true passion was his suffering from God.” The Father turned His face away from His precious son and began to lay the sins and shame of the world upon him. That is when Jesus’ condemnation began. He went to the cross sinless but carrying all our guilt. And his last words were a shout, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Many people have suffered abuse, and many have died on crosses. Many were even innocent of the crimes for which they were crucified. But no one can fathom the injustice and suffering Jesus endured—the only sinless man who stood condemned; God in the flesh abandoned by God the Father, crumbling under the weight of the sin of all humanity. G.K. Chesterton wrote about this profound moment, “God seemed for an instant to be an atheist.” Jürgen Moltmann continued, “At the center of the Christian faith is the history of Christ’s passion. At the center of this passion is the experience of God endured by the godforsaken, God-cursed Christ. Is this the end of all human and religious hope? Or is it the beginning of the true hope, which has been born again and can no longer be shaken?”
It looked as if Hell had won. The perfect Trinity of God was destroyed, and Jesus’ followers were left with a lifeless savior. But it was not the end of all hope. It was the precursor for Easter morning—when the Son of Heaven would conquer the powers of Hell from the inside.
As we enter Palm Sunday and Holy Week, remember Christ riding into Jerusalem, praised before he was crucified. Remember that you are the reason for his passion—that you might be one with Him. Make it a point to meditate upon his sacrifice by reading the accounts of Jesus’ death in the gospels, walking through the “stations of the cross” at your church, or watching the film, "The Passion of the Christ" (you can order it online and get it before Easter). This is the time to consider what his suffering means for you.[8]
On Maundy or Holy Thursday, we remember the dark days of Jesus life; after he had his last meal with his friends, he went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray and while he was there he was betrayed by one of his friends, taken prisoner by Roman guards, tried by the Roman governor, condemned, beaten, and nailed to a cross where he suffered and died. Footwashing is a powerful symbolic response to the Word, dramatizing the servanthood of Jesus, both the night before his death and in his continuing presence in our midst. "Maundy" means "commandment" in Latin and is used in John 13:34. The service should be called this only when there is footwashing. The ancient symbol of stripping the Lord's table is a vivid and dramatic way of showing the desolation and abandonment of the long night in Gethsemane and what followed. The altar remains bare until the Easter Vigil.
I invite you to ponder Good Friday. Jurgen Moltmann says that many people have died calmly for that which in which they believed. Socrates calmly drank the hemlock. Zealots died as martyrs in defiance to the government. Stoics died in the Roman arena, "Without fear and without hope." Stephen is the ideal of the Christian martyr. Yet, Jesus died with the cry, "My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?" upon his lips. Why?
An unusual depiction of the crucifixion of Jesus is “The Other Side of the Cross” and it shows the Roman soldiers behind the cross, gambling for the clothes of Jesus. In the drawing, those Roman soldiers are nonchalant, distracted, and greedy. This was, for them, just another crucifixion, another execution, another Jewish pretender, another trouble-maker to be eliminated. On their side of the Cross, this was no big deal. It would almost be ignored. They just dealt the cards and rolled the dice and laughed and ignored it all, waiting for it to be over. From their side of the cross this was just another day, another chance to win something for nothing.
There was another side of the cross, represented by those who jeered at this Jesus, saying, “Come on down and save yourself, and prove you are the Messiah!” Those who hated Jesus were glad to see him gone. Some had been disappointed, and they were glad to see this so-called Messiah dead so that a real hero could come along. Others had been threatened by what Jesus taught, and they were glad to see this iconoclast out of the way. And a few others were the typical crowd who always seem to enjoy watching anyone suffer. From their side of the cross, this was all about death and even revenge.
There was another side of the cross represented by the women and the disciple named John who mourned and cried at the death of their beloved Jesus. For those who loved Jesus, this was the saddest moment of history. Their master, their teacher, their friend was hanging there alone, suffering a terrible death, and they were unable to save him. From their side of the cross, this was a terrible defeat.
But there was yet another side of the cross, the side that we call Easter. From an Easter perspective, the cross is a victory. Do not get me wrong, God wept when Jesus died on the cross, just as God weeps with any of us who lose a loved one. But from the Easter side of the cross, God has declared a victory over sin and death. What appeared to be a defeat and a tragedy has become the symbol for all who follow Jesus, a symbol of victory.
So the question for us during Lent season is this: which side of the cross will we live on? A lot of people live on the soldiers’ side of the cross, oblivious to the meaning of this Easter season. Some people even live on the enemies’ side of the cross, ignoring Jesus or opposing his ways. Other people live on the disciples’ side of the cross, seeing only the pain and suffering of the Christian life, but somehow missing the victory and new life that it offers.
We are called to live on the Easter side of the Cross, grateful for the sacrifice, forgiven for our past failures, and empowering to live in the victory of the Cross. May God help us all to live on the Easter side of the cross.[9]
[1] (Joachim Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, page 896—904).
[2] Hoyt L. Hickman, et al., in Handbook of the Christian Year, page 19—22, give an excellent presentation of the history of this season.
[3] Marlon J. Hatchett, Sanctifying Life. Time and Space.
[4] Michael Horton, president of Christians United for Reformation, National & International Religion Report 10 (29 April 1996), 8.
[5] Inspired by reflections from Bishop Woodie White in 1999.
[6] —Dr. Marcus Borg from “Taking Jesus Seriously”
[7] Inspired by Thompson, Derek. "On repeat: Why people watch movies and shows over and over." The Atlantic Monthly Website, theatlantic.com. September 10, 2014.
[8] March 26, 2015 The Challenge: Meditating on the Crucifixion Rebecca Hagelin
[9] “The Other Side of the Cross.” I have lost a reference to the author.
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