I don’t don’t know about you, but I don’t willingly sign up for pain or suffering. Pollen season isn’t my friend. I could do without all this yellow and green stuff clogging my brain cells and my lungs. As I cough and die, swill decongestant tonics, and huff my asthma inhaler, I wonder if this particular cross bearing has to be on my things to do list every Lenten season.
As Jesus turned his face towards Jerusalem, he knew his fate was certain. His message began to change, as he told his followers in Luke 14:27, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Of course, not all were ready to hear or to follow, for some had obligations at home, and others weren’t yet ready to live the itinerant life. Many today don’t answer the call to ministry because they can’t see the long unknown road ahead. Only those willing to walk by faith and not by sight will journey off, trusting in God’s providence, mercy and grace.
I used to say, “Give me a few months and I can whittle any group down to size. I can prune with the best of gardeners—all I have to do is read actual scripture!” I figure if folks want to get mad, they should take it out on the original writers. Blaming the messenger is useless. As the apostle Paul says:
“For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:18)
The ancient crucifixion icons glorify the triumph of the Incarnate God and his victory over death, which is the consequence of our fall; that fatal moment in the garden of Eden when Adam and Eve chose to desire to be like God, even though they had only the image, but not the ability to be gods themselves. Icons of the crucifixion represent Christ who, fully human and fully divine, takes on death so humanity no longer has to die. Christ conquers death by being a suffering servant, he becomes a victorious king.
Most of us would rather jump to the Bible’s Victory story and skip its Victim sections because we live in an age which validates the strong and successful, while denying the worth of the weak and wounded. Easter and Palm Sunday are more triumphant celebrations than the sonorous and somber Foot-washing Maundy Thursday and Good Friday Vigils. Yet without suffering, would we have cause for rejoicing? Would we even know the meaning of joy without some pain in our lives? Everyone has some pain in their life, whether it’s the pain of an unrequited love, the loss of a child stillborn, a divorce, a war wound, a frenemy wound, or some other brokenness.
Mary knew early on her child of destiny would bring her both joy and pain, as all mothers discover soon enough. Luke records in 2:34-35,
“Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
Many today only want to show the happy times in their hyper-curated lives on social media. As a result, “Keeping up with the Joneses” gets harder all the time. With Facebook’s constant encouragement of “you may know algorithms,” we’re encouraged to add more friends to our circle. We’re exposed to too many families of that surname, when once we only knew a few who lived in our own neighborhoods. If all these Jones folks are always smiling widely for the camera, we might be tempted to ask, “Why don’t I feel like smiling also?”
I know people who don’t read newspapers, watch the news on television, or even listen to the snippets on the radio. “Too much bad news!” They too don’t want to hear of the suffering, the plight of the weak, or face their seeming impotence to do anything about it. We are weak people. We are not strong, no matter how often we quote passages like Philippians 4:13—
“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”
Richard Rohr, in The Enneagram, A Christian Perspective, says, “It is the things that you cannot do anything about and the things that you cannot do anything with that do something with you.” Suffering and prayer are what truly transform us, if only we don’t waste time looking for someone to blame.
So far, no one person has been able to stop the Russian invasion of the democratic nation of Ukraine, but plenty of people are holding up an aid package that would help this small country fight this battle at great cost to life and limb. The Ukrainians suffer and America dithers. We seem to think our leaders have infinite powers, as if they were gods, but we forget all people are only human and have only the image of god, but no huma has either the power or the glory of the true God.
So far, no one person has been able to keep either Hamas or Israel from wreaking havoc on each other. My daddy used to say, “you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” After years of teaching and pastoring, I’d throw my two cents in: “we can lead a horse to water, but we can’t make it drink.” As long as people are invested in retribution, they will return suffering for suffering. The sad truth is people who have never processed their own suffering will cause suffering for others as well as for themselves. The children will cry. And the women will cry. But now the men are crying too.
No one has a magic wand to eliminate suffering or harm. In ancient times, the image of the crucified Christ was used as a magic charm to keep the wearer from harm. Some people today wear a cross for the same reason; it’s a fashion statement, a good luck charm, and a symbol of their faith. Instead of a charm, we offer acts of prayer and mercy.
We don’t just cry for the fact of the sufferings we endure, or for the sufferings of others, but we cry out in our suffering to the only one who can hear us, heal us and make whole our broken hearts and homes. We cry out to the God, who created all of us in God’s own image out of the dust of an obliterated and bombed out land. We cry out to the God who brings rains in their seasons to a land parched by climate change and ruined by reckless use of natural resources. We cry out to the God who raised God’s son from the dead, even as people everywhere bury their own dead sons and daughters from the wars fought by nations and non-state actors who wrestle for power in tiny slivers of contested territories.
We can see in this image a dramatic transformation in the conception of Christ from the pre-Constantinian period. In the Santa Pudenziana mosaic, Christ is shown in the center seated on a jewel encrusted throne. He is surrounded by apostles, biblical women, and symbolic images of the four gospel writers. The ideal landscape is the New Jerusalem, or the Heavenly Kingdom. This image was created after Constantine’s victory and conversion to Christianity. Prior to this, Christian art repurposed Greco-Roman themes of the Good Shepherd and the Apollo Sun god.
The Byzantine Empire was fond of the Deesis Icon, which has Christ in the center bounded by the Virgin Mary and the Precursor, John the Baptist, on either side. They both entreat the Lord in prayer. This was one of the most widespread middle Byzantine icon types. The name comes from the Greek δέησις or “supplication,” which in Byzantine art, describes a representation of Christ enthroned and flanked by supplicants, such as the Virgin Mary, St. John the Baptist, or other saints and/or angels. Images of the deesis often appear on an iconostasis, or the screen separating the altar from the people. The subject matter traditionally represents the first witnesses to Christ’s divinity, the Virgin and Saint John, who came to be seen as holy figures who would act as intercessors with him on behalf of humanity.
Nikolai Kormashov, an Estonian artist and collector, who collected and restored a great collection of 15th-20th century Russian icons during his lifetime said, “That which is not destined to perish, announces itself again and again, to attest to elusive spiritual beauty and the light of truth.”
The truth is all people of every country and culture in every age will suffer, but God isn’t removed and distant from our pain. God, through the incarnation of the Son, has experienced our human suffering from the birth pangs of Christ’s birth to the hunger, thirst, and weariness of his itinerant earthly preaching. Not only this, but God through God’s Son knows the heartbreak of betrayal and insult, the sting of the whip, and the pain of death on a cross.
The light of truth for the Easter season is this: in the midst of darkness and death, God raised his Son to light and life, so we too might lose the chains of sin and death and live to light and love. As the people of prayer, we ask for the gift of hope to give light to those in darkness and a helping hand to those in need.
Joy and peace,
Cornelia
Greek déēsis entreaty, equivalent to deē-, variant stem of déesthai to beg + -sis-sis
Leonid Ouspensky: The Meaning of Icons, revised edition, St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, Crestwood, NY, 1999, p. 180.
DEESIS Definition & Usage Examples | Dictionary.com
https://www.dictionary.com/browse/deesis
Saved Sanctity: Icons from the Collection of Nikolai Kormashov – Art Museums
https://www.lnmm.lv/en/art-museum-riga-bourse/exhibitions/saved-sanctity-icons-from-the-collection-of-nikolai-kormashov-437
Image— The oldest icon of the Crucifixion of Christ at the Greek Orthodox Holy Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai is an extraordinary testament to the intricate relationship between the Greco-Roman art heritage and early Christian iconography. This invaluable artifact offers a unique glimpse into the artistic and cultural milieu of the time, highlighting the exchange of ideas and the shared history that shaped the development of Christian art in 8th CE. See following link for comparison of early Roman and Christian art.
http://employees.oneonta.edu/farberas/arth/arth212/post_constant_conc_christ.html
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