I wish there was a rock to hide under, to get away from the various forwards of bloodied up Jesus, bloody palms, Jesus in a ray of sunshine with the crown of thorns, and all of the other iconography replete with all caps captions like “THIS WAS FOR YOU”, as if a person can be shamed into accepting Christ’s sacrifice by being forced to realize the extent of it. Perhaps it’s a sign of my own weakness of faith, but I have a hard time celebrating Easter with all of the gore and mania of the preceding week being shoved in my face, so it’s been a long time since I’ve gone to church on an Easter Sunday.
Besides which, the constant “this was for YOU this was for YOU this was for YOU” is very upsetting to me. I find it indicative of a very me-centric kind of theology, in which every passage in the Bible is interpreted in terms of self. Jesus died for MY sins, he offered grace for MY shortcomings, he preached forgiveness so you need to forgive ME, he preached love so you need to love ME, he preached generosity so be generous with ME, he preached the floodgates opening for blessings to be poured out so he’d better bless ME, and on and on and on.
As if the Gospel revolves not around the person of God, but the person of myself.
I find myself, perhaps pettily, wanting to change the caption of every single Easter meme I see to “he did this for the homeless junkie on the corner who gave up her kids rather than get clean”, and then forward it along.
I mean, it’s not about us. It’s not JUST about us, it’s about the whole of creation and the whole of the law. It’s about fulfillment of a blood contract that God wrote not just so that you can be free from your obligation to fulfill it yourself, but so that the whole of creation is free from fulfilling it. So that the rocks and the trees can be renewed, so that you can be renewed, but so that the homeless junkie on the street corner can be renewed to. So that all of us, yes you and yes me and yes the gays and the meth heads and the prostitutes and the Wall Street bankers and shortsellers and the scum of the earth and the scourge of society and even the insurance adjusters can feel a twinge of repentance, respond to God’s spirit, and approach the throne room freely.
Yeah, I guess I should be glad that it’s about me, but I don’t want to live as if I’m the only one it’s about.
It’s about the whole planet, being freed from burden of the law so that it, us, everyone, everything can be molded into God’s design. It’s about a time of renewal and blessing so intense and yet so simple it should blow your mind.
And it’s not about shame. It’s not about changing, or being faithful, because the sight of Christ’s blood makes you embarrassed of your sin. It’s about choosing holiness because you rejoice in the fact you now have the ability to. It’s about realizing that you have a million chances to pursue God throughout the day, not a limited amount based off of how many sacrifices you can purchase or how often you can make it to the temple. It’s about the freedom to honor God, not the burden to.
I realize I’m just blathering, but the early light of Easter morning brings it out in me. I was walking the dogs with the frost still on the ground and my crazy stubborn baby in my arms, and as my feet crunched the ground and I watched the dogs romping as if there was no tomorrow, and my daughter clinging to my neck as if leaving me was death, all I could think was that I’d already found the message of Easter.
The consciousness that this moment matters, that I am free to share this moment with God.
And the realization that Christ’s sacrifice was so that God could be in every moment. Yes, even the ones where the junkie on the corner looks up at the same early morning sun, and loves God for a moment or curses him.
And we should share these moments, not because we’re hoping that hitting the “send” button on the meme enough will somehow make up for our share in Christ’s pain, but because the best way to honor his blood is by doing exactly what his sacrifice gives us the freedom to do: feeling God’s love for each other without impediment.