I’m sorry I’ve been silent over these last, most important days. I spent hours on a Palm Sunday post, but it didn’t quite come together before Holy Week got very busy. This year we went to the Chrism Mass and had good friends in town, along with everything else – and then we got a bad stomach bug, and a big new project for work, etc.
Yesterday I wrote two posts: before I wrote about today’s readings, in this post I’ve tried to put together some insights from the last week.
Every Good Friday my kids and I join our Franciscan friends for a procession through Harlem and the Bronx. There are many great things about this procession, but this year I also learned something about the liturgy.
One of the priests pointed out the novena to the Divine Mercy: beginning with Good Friday, there are nine days leading up to Divine Mercy Sunday. I’ve always been a little confused how Divine Mercy fits into Easter Week, but here it is: Divine Mercy summarizes the mystery of Good Friday and Easter. As soon as we have passed through these nine days of mercy, we stop to think about it.
This year during the last few weeks of Lent I was meditating on Howard Thurman’s Jesus and the Disinherited. Thurman was a big influence on Martin Luther King. The book is both imperfect and breathtakingly important. An example:
Thurman complains that he doesn’t like St. Paul. That’s bad: Paul is amazing, and Thurman is missing Paul’s theology of grace, which is so central to the Gospel. Thurman is incomplete.
But the reason he doesn’t like St. Paul is fascinating: because of citizenship. When Paul is accused, he appeals to Ceasar (Acts 25). Paul is a Roman citizen, he has rights.
Now, whether or not Thurman understands Paul, he uses this event to take us deep into the mystery of Jesus. Jesus did not have rights. He was a poor man from a despised region of a despised, occupied country with a despised religion. From Thurman’s experience as a black man in the 1930s American South, he takes us into Jesus’ experience of having no rights at all.
If you’re at all interested in what people like Ta-Nehesi Coates have been talking about (I think you should be), you should read Jesus and the Disinherited, which says the same things but in a much richer, more complete way.
One powerful chapter, for example, talks about how the poor are often stripped of their love of the truth. To deal with their lack of rights, it is tempting to solve everything with lies. Thurman gives a meditation on the disaster this loss of truth is for human dignity. And on how Jesus shows another way.
Jesus dies because he has united himself to the most humiliated. And he dies because in that position of absolute humiliation, he alone maintains human dignity – a dignity, we must add, found ultimately in the Fatherhood of God. No one else can deal with that kind of humiliation. Jesus does.
For me this Lent and Easter, this meditation on Jesus’ union with the humiliated has opened up the Gospel in a new way. I have heard it in every line of these last weeks’ liturgies.
This is the Divine Mercy: he goes all the way down, to save us at our most humiliated.
Of course, like Paul, and much more comfortable than Paul, I have rights. I am not among the humiliated.
But Jesus teaches me to love those who are, to see in them the deepest truth of the Gospel, the face of Christ.
Jesus teaches me a more excellent way, which is not to cling to my rights, not to fight to get ahead, but to love till the end. At the Cross, Peter fled humiliation.
Jesus teaches me the meaning of my little humiliations. I have not experienced what Thurman or Jesus (or Peter or Paul!) experienced. But there are so many humiliations in life, leading up to the final and utter humiliation which is death. (Another important read: Tolstoy’s Death of Ivan Ilyich. If we do not learn humiliation during life, we will have to learn it at death.)
At the same time, I’ve been reading John of the Cross’s Dark Night of the Soul. Spiritually, too, everything culminates in humiliation. This is central to the Gospel.
And it is central to Divine Mercy: the mercy of Jesus is to join us in our humiliation.
One more thought, from Good Friday. In John’s account of the Passion, Jesus discusses with Pilate his kingship and his kingdom. “Are you a king then? Jesus answered, You say that I am a king. To this end I was born, and for this cause I came into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth.”
Jesus is a king, but not the kind of king that conquers with a sword. His kingdom is the kingdom of truth, his soldiers are those who embrace truth, speak truth, die for truth. Those, too, who do not resort to untruth as a way of avoiding humiliation: the lies that protect our pride, the lies that get us out of hard situations, and the lies that allow us to demean others.
To follow Jesus is to live in the truth. To receive Jesus is to have our eyes opened to the truth, to live in the light.
Where is humiliation in your life? How does Jesus want to transform that?