Is today’s gospel lesson for Palm Sunday a story of victimhood? The answer is “Absolutely not.” While we are struck so hard by the agony of Jesus on the cross where he cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” the message of victimhood would’ve never been his intention. Especially more so if we consider he is the one who vicariously runs into the fire to not only rescue those in danger but also model how one ought to live life according to the will of God, (or goodwill).
How do we then perceive this agonizing voice of Jesus that echoes Psalm 22 which we will hear on Good Friday? I would like to suggest that we reflect on three approaches to understanding Jesus’ cry on the cross. 1) It is Jesus’ entry point to the reality of human suffering. As he himself suffers physical and emotional pains, he experiences a sense of feeling abandoned. His suffering is real and there’s nothing to romanticize or heroicize it. Suffering is suffering. Period. As Edith Eger, a Holocaust survivor and psychologist, once said, “There is no hierarchy of suffering. There's nothing that makes my pain worse or better than yours.” 2) As we ponder on Jesus’ experiences on the cross, we are not alone in our suffering. His sense of abandonment from God is our entry point to the presence of God in the midst of our own sense of abandonment. Quite tragically, suffering unites all those who suffer, yet this tragic union and solidarity bear the fruit of the resurrection, which makes this tragic communion hopeful. No “one” is resurrected alone but can only be resurrected “with.” 3) Psalm 22 is not the end of the story. There comes Psalm 23. Jesus might have reminded us how human tragedy should be spoken, heard, and acknowledged in the words of Psalm 22. He then leads himself and those who suffer to the Lord who is our Shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” (Ps. 23:1-4) As we reckon these three approaches to Psalm 22 or the cry of Jesus on the cross, Jesus is not a victim. He is silent when he has all the reasons to blame those mocking and killing him. It may be more accurate to say that he refuses to be a victim. As he doesn’t identify himself with victimhood or in other words as he doesn’t victimize himself, he doesn’t accuse anyone. For example, St. Luke records, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34) Resentments that would’ve been piled up high, after all, dissolve. Jesus forgives and gives his accusers a choice to be forgiven and reconciled. Jesus’ refusal of victimhood doesn’t, of course, nullify any wrongful behaviors. What it does is actually more for himself in that the wounded part of Jesus that has been unfairly and unjustly wronged doesn’t consume the entirety of who he is. He’s not locked in the victim image. He doesn’t limit himself to painful suffering. He strives for the resurrection as he struggles through the voices of Psalm 22 and wrestles with God. As we enter Holy Week, I would like us to examine and observe how often we play and function as a victim. When someone cuts us off in traffic, anger arises, which is natural. But how do we want to skillfully manage this pure reddish anger energy and respond to the situation? Are we a victim? We can, but we don’t want to. That’s not the identity we want to take on because we are better than that. This creates a glimpse of self-respect and self-compassion: “Treat yourself with respect and compassion that you are mature, considerate, wise, and kind in any situation.” In this Holy Week, Jesus paves the way from victimhood to victory, from a victim to a victor, which is another form of transfiguration, metamorphosis. It’s a lengthy passage we heard this morning! Let’s break it down using logic to simplify all the words! Below is the Pharisees’ logic of how God (or their dogma) works:
Premise 1: One who does not follow the law is a sinner. Premise 2: God does not listen to a sinner. Conclusion: Therefore, a sinner cannot and does not do the work of God. We can see that for the Pharisees keeping the law determines God’s action. God somehow depends on whether one follows the law or not. If we apply these arguments to the case of Jesus and the blind person, based on Premise 1, Jesus who does not follow the law (e.g. breaking the Sabbath law) is a sinner. Based on Premise 2, God does not and cannot listen to Jesus. So, the conclusion is that Jesus could not and did not cure the blind. On the contrary, here’s the blind person’s logic of how God works. Premise 1: Jesus cured the blind. Premise 2: God listens to one who worships God and obeys God’s will. Conclusion 1: Therefore, God listens to Jesus. Conclusion 2: Therefore, Jesus worships God and obeys God’s will. His logic is strictly empirical since it starts with his first-hand experience of gaining his sight from Jesus (Premise 1). God comes later and is understood only after the experience of healing (Premise 2). This is more of a process of learning about God’s act and discovering God’s grace in one’s lived experiences. Signposts are set up always after one first gets to designation points, not the other way around. Dogmas, which function as signposts, are formulated after God or one’s first-hand experiences with God. It’s quite clear how differently the Pharisees and the blind person see Jesus as well as what the Pharisees don’t see and the blind person sees. The Pharisees are blinded by their own rules, creating God in their image. This limits an opportunity for them to experience God in a new way, which becomes harmful in that it also prevents others from experiencing God’s grace in their lives. Not all dogmas are toxic but they can be when they misdirect or distance people from God’s compassion. We might have some of these misleading signposts about God, the church, others, and ourselves. What are they? During this Lenten season, I would like us to focus on ourselves first as a practice of self-examination. What self-talk or self-image do you have in your mind? These are often so hidden that they only come out when poked. It’s like unhealed scars that burn when touched by hot water or tabasco sauce! You might argue that these scars are not signposts about ourselves. Well, at least these scars tell us something about how we think of ourselves and what we are supposed to be like. This “supposed to be like” can be considered a dogma if we so strongly hold onto that. To think outside the box about ourselves and God, we first have to realize we are in a box and see what that box looks like. Jesus shakes up the box that the Pharisees created. In doing so, he shuffles their self-image which is built upon the rules they uphold. The blind person’s box indoctrinated by the Pharisees is shattered and reshaped as he experiences Jesus’ healing. “...though I was blind, now I see.” What does he see? He sees himself in a radically new way that Jesus paves. What box do you see and how does Jesus take you out of that box? The first step, I would suggest, to embark on this seeing the box and getting out of it, is to experience deep freedom in the presence of God dwelling within you. As we’re in God’s presence, there’s no box to be stuck in but we instead gain skills to work with the box. Jesus already taught us how to see the box, get out of it, and skillfully work with it. It’s done in spirit and truth. It’s through your breath with unforgetting ardency. |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
January 2025
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