Gathered at the Foot of the Cross

Good Friday Meditation

Here we are again,
gathered at the foot of the cross,
our gaze fixed
on the figure fixed on the wood.

Beaten, bruised, bloody, broken;
here is revealed the Mystery at the heart of all,
the author of creation.

What can be said
if this is the truest image?
This is almighty God,
Ruler of the universe?
It is mind-boggling.
It is heart-breaking.
It is tongue-numbing.
What does this cock-eyed king,
ruling from this splinter throne,
reveal?
Only this:
“O God, you declare your almighty power
chiefly in showing mercy and pity.”
If not only, chiefly.

Whatever God’s holiness, justice, sovereignty, or authority mean,
whatever we think such things mean,
they are dying before our eyes.
They will return on Sunday.
But transfigured.

Fixed on the cross,
God is revealed
chiefly to be on the side
not of the powerful, the rich, the beautiful, the successful,
not the self-righteous or the self-satisfied,
not those in the know;
but chiefly on the side of
the numb and confused
the battered and bruised
the poor, the meek, the lowly.
the tortured and terrorized,
the oppressed,
the powerless,
the poor in spirit.

This is the Mystery revealed.

But more is revealed.
And more disturbing.
The figure fixed to the cross,
on whom our gaze is fixed,
gazes back.
Fixing us with his gaze,
he reveals us to ourselves.

And what is revealed?
Humanity.
Each of us.
All of us together.
From our earliest days,
we have been in the shadow of the cross.
We are all neighbors.
This is our common stomping ground.
We are united as members of the crucifying mob
Each of us. Every. One.

We were meant for another locale,
a different kind of community.
Common unity.
Harmony
The Garden of Delight.
The City of God.
But we moved away.
Went astray.

If we did not know before
into what neighborhood we had moved,
we know now.
And here we are,
the crowd gathered
at the foot of the cross.
The common heirs of Cain,
we are marked,
marked with envy and enmity.

Here we are,
gathered in the neighborhood of the cross.
We are the taunters and accusers.
We are the betrayers, deniers, abandoners.
(We are not the Blessed Mother or the Beloved Disciple. Not yet.)
Those are our bloody fingerprints on the hammer and nails.
Yours. Mine. Ours.

How so?

It is not just God on the cross,
mysteriously revealed in Jesus.
Mysteriously revealed in Jesus,
is all humankind.
We do to him
only what we have already done
and are doing
to one another.
What we do to one another
we do to him.
“Truly I tell you,
just as you did it to one of the least of these
who are members of my family,
you did it to me.”

It is mind-breaking.
It is heart-boggling.
It is tongue-unhinging.

What we do to one another,
we do to him.
That is the fix we are in,
which has fixed him to wood.

And we hammer away.
All selfishness and pride – whack
All envy and malice – whack
All slothful neglect of loving God – whack
All slothful neglect of loving neighbor – whack
All greed, gluttony, and lust – whack, whack, whack
Every disdainful thought, word, or deed – whack, whack, whack
Every violent thought – whack
Every violent intention – whack
Every violent word – whack
Every violent action – whack
All torture and terror – whack, whack
All that is not love – whack
All that is not mercy – WHACK!

We fix one another to the cross.
We are the taunters and accusers of one another.
We are the betrayers, deniers, and abandoners of one another
Our bloody fingerprints are on the hammer and the nails.
He said that when he was lifted up,
he would draw all people
to himself.

And here we are,
drawn to him,
drawn together,
at the foot of the cross,
eyes fixed where we have fixed him.

The battered figure
fixes us with his gaze.
No good claiming innocence.
No good claiming ignorance.
Each fingerprint,
like every hair,
is known.

No good pointing accusingly at others
“Their fingerprints are more!”
The fixed, revealing gaze
will not be diverted
from me,
from you,
from us.
We are all in this together.

And yet . . .

That fixed gaze
is power-full
of mercy and pity.
In that gaze, we are known,
guilty, fingerprints and all,
unable to save ourselves.
In that gaze, we are also known
fixed to the cross ourselves,
wounded and scarred,
unable to heal ourselves.

The figure, fixed to the cross,
fixes his gaze
on you,
on me,
on us,
with sorrow and love.

This cock-eyed King
fixed to a wooden cross,
this slaughtered Lamb,
this Mystery at the heart of all,
revealed,
knows what we have been up to,
things done
and left undone.

And, still, he reveals his almighty power,
his implacable judgment,
chiefly in showing mercy and pity.
“Father, forgive them,
they don’t know . . .”
 
Here we are again,
transfixed,
transformed,
at the foot of the cross.