God's God-Forsakenness

Good Friday of the Passion of the Lord

    Most people, when they first learned it, were astonished to hear that a saintly woman like St. Teresa of Calcutta, Mother Teresa, suffered great spiritual desolation as she worked to build her Missionaries of Charity. She once said to her spiritual director, “The place of God in my soul is blank.  There is no God in me.”  For someone who loved others so much, in such dramatic ways, I think most struggle to understand how a person could love so generously without a daily experience of God who is love.  And yet, she did.
    As we hear the Passion Narrative–we get John’s version today and we heard Matthew’s version on Palm Sunday–we hear about how Christ took upon Himself the weight of sin.  Not just the sin of His contemporaries, or even the sin that had taken place from Adam and Eve to Him, but the sin of all time.  And since sin is the separation from God, in some mysterious way, the Father allowed the Son, in His human nature, to experience the full weight of sin, which is why, as we heard Sunday, Christ cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  Christ goes to the limit of what Bishop Barron calls “God-forsakenness” for our salvation.

    When we think about the pain of Good Friday, we often think of the physical pain that the Lord endured.  We might think about the pain from the nails piercing His Sacred Flesh, or the crown of thorns, puncturing the skin around his head, his hair matting with dried blood.  Or the blood on His back from the scourgings, dried and attached to his tunic, which was then taken from His Body, re-opening those wounds.  We might consider how He struggled to breathe as His Body hung upon the cross, His lungs filling with fluid as He slowly asphyxiated.  Christ redeemed all human pain united to Him by taking it upon Himself.
    But Christ also redeemed all spiritual pain through his own spiritual suffering.  Again, it seems odd to think of co-eternal Son of God going through desolation.  How could God not experience God’s presence?  And yet, in some mysterious way, Christ was allowed to taste the full effect of sin, which separates the person from God and His sanctifying grace and love. 
    Perhaps we have not had such a strong and drawn-out experience like St. Teresa of Calcutta.  Maybe we have never had a moment where we felt like God abandoned us or left us.  But I’m willing to bet many of us have had at least a few moments where we wondered where He was when we needed Him the most.  I bet many of us have had times when we go to pray and we have no desire to be there, and we feel like no one is listening.  God through Christ redeemed even those experiences where we feel the farthest from God, so that, even though maybe we don’t feel anything, we can know that He is there, because He went there already through His own Passion and Death.  
    The temptation in times where we feel like God does not care or is not present is to give up.  We don’t feel like praying so we skip our prayers.  We pray, but we don’t get the response we want or get the response when we want it, so we stop praying.  We pray, but it doesn’t even have the feeling of satisfaction of rest, and there is a tangible lack of the presence of God, so we run away from that experience and change our prayer habits to pray less so we don’t have to feel that lack of presence.  This would be equivalent to Christ coming down from the cross, as the Pharisees jeered at Him to do, because of the pain of His Passion.  
    Instead, God invites us to know that He is present, even when He feels absent, because He has gone to the utter limit of God-forsakenness on the cross to prove His love for us, and to prove that we cannot go anywhere that He has not already been.  And not only that, but He’ll stay on that cross with us, even if we don’t feel Him there, to redeem the experience of desolation for us.
    As you come forward to venerate the cross today, bring any of those times when you haven’t felt good in prayer, or you haven’t received the response you wanted, or maybe you have even felt like God wasn’t there or didn’t care.  Because when we bring those experiences, and any other suffering, to the cross of Christ, we know that, in due time, God will raise us up and give us new life from what we suffered.  Come, let us adore.

The Greatest Love Story

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  As a kid I disliked today’s Gospel and the Gospel we’ll hear on Good Friday, both of which are Passion Narratives (today’s from St. Matthew and Friday’s from St. John).  I disliked them because they are so long, and I already knew what happened.  The Lord celebrates the Last Supper, goes to the Garden of Gethsemane, gets arrested, goes through a sham trial, is turned over to the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, carries His cross to Golgotha, and dies.  

    As an adult, the Passion Narratives are still long.  And I still know the story.  But it’s the story of how God showed His love for us.  It’s like “The Princess Bride” or “Band of Brothers.”  I know what happens; I can probably quote a fair amount of lines.  But I return to them because they speak about the deepest meanings of life: love and sacrifice.  But as much as “The Princess Bride” and “Band of Brothers” talk about love and sacrifice, the Passion Narratives tell us about the greatest love and the greatest sacrifice.  The greatest love because God’s love for us is infinite; the greatest sacrifice because God, the source of all life, experienced death so that we, who deserved death, could return to the source of life and enjoy eternal life in heaven.
    In “Band of Brothers,” the early focus, and a theme throughout, is “Currahee,” a Cherokee word which means “we stand alone together.”  In Christ’s Passion, He stands alone.  And yet, we stand with Him now.  We stand alone together as Christ suffers for us and pays the price for sin, death, though He had no sin.  Life contends with death, as we will hear on Easter Sunday in the sequence Victimae Paschali Laudes: Mors et vita duello.  But we know that life will win.  As Westley says in “The Princess Bride”: “Death cannot stop true love.  All it can do is delay it for a while.”  Nowhere is that phrase more true than in Christ, whose heart stopped beating after He died on the cross, but whose love never stopped and will never stop for us.
    We know the story.  We know what happens.  But we need to hear it again, however long it takes, because all time comes back to this one week when the Son of David and Lord of David entered into His city with shouts of joy, and was led out of His city by a foreign government, which was cajoled to act by His own religious leaders and people, and He backed up the words He spoke at the Last Supper with action: “Greater love has no man than this: to lay down his life for his friends.”  This is the greatest love story, the greatest sacrifice story of all time, greater even than “The Princess Bride” and “Band of Brothers.”  But it’s not just a story; it’s the truth.  And the truth has set us free from sin and death.  [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]