Living in the Gray

Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. Matthew 27:50 (NRSV)

Well here we are again at the most unpleasant time of the Christian year – the end of Holy Week. We have remembered Jesus’ final night. We have walked with him to the cross. We have flinched as we imagined the spikes being driven in. And we’ve symbolically watched as he died on that cross. And if we are honest, we are unsettled and uneasy and unsure of what to do with this reality that we visit once a year.

One aspect of the job of being a local church pastor is facing death. Everyone must deal with it at one time or another but a local church pastor spends a lot of time there. We keep vigil with a family as a loved one slowly passes. We cry with the spouse when their partner is taken suddenly or with a parent when their child dies unexpectedly. We listen to loved ones as they share about the deceased as we prepare a service of remembrance and celebration. We comfort the survivor a month, a year, a decade later. Death is part of our life, part of life but more so when you pastor a church.

Regardless of how much time I have spent with death, the end of Holy Week is still uncomfortable. And I know it isn’t the closeness of death that brothers me. That happens because it shows me the dark side of humanity and our institutions. It lays bare the reality that power and calm rely on violence. It makes me face the fact that maintaining the status quo is often more acceptable then justice. And it makes me come face to face with my own bend to seek revenge, use manipulation, resort to force, and try to keep things in check so that the relative calm can continue even when it is far from what I desire or what is right.

This is what we don’t like about Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. They make us face the darker parts of ourselves. They force us to see ourselves in the betrayal, in the denial, in the crowd, in the soldiers, in Pilate, in the religious authorities, in the criminals, in the women, and not in Jesus. They make us uncomfortable because they show us this. Because they pull back our carefully constructed vials and expose our ugliness. Because they make us so very aware of how far away from the ideal we are. It isn’t the gruesome torture and death that causes us difficulty, it is being exposed that we really don’t like.

I might be trying to lump you in with me but I think what I am saying applies to us all to some degree. I really wish it were different but time and time and time again this reality shows up. It comes out when we bomb another. It surfaces when we wish harm upon the thieves that steal from our church. It shows itself when we lament the babies dying of poison gas and ignore those dying from hunger. It comes out when we fail to love as Jesus loves.

I ask you to spend some time at the cross. See Jesus there and recognize how far from him you are. Look beyond the wounds and the face drained of life and see the reality of our all too human ways. Allow yourself to be in the darkness of these days. Don’t try to run for them or hide from them or ignore them. Let yourself see who you are in the people and events of these days. Then when Sunday comes see the light, the life and know that we all have the opportunity to get it right. We all have the possibility to live as Jesus lived and love as Jesus loved. And know to the deepest part of yourself that God’s love, grace and presence are with you in every moment of every day.

Dear God, help me to be the person you dream me to be. Amen.