it shall be slaughtered during the evening twilight. They shall take some of its blood
and apply it to the two doorposts and the lintel of every house in which they partake of the lamb. That same night they shall eat its roasted flesh with unleavened bread and bitter herbs.
Men have been killing one another since the beginning. The devout cite the story of Cain and Abel; others point to history and the fossil record. Sometimes we commit murder with ceremony. It might be organized and orchestrated by government officials, military personnel, or religious authorities; it might be the bizarre antics of a madman. They're all pretty much the same, deliberate human sacrifice for a particular purpose.
The crucifixion of Jesus was a complicated ceremony meant to humiliate and terrify the people of Jerusalem. It should be a slow death to deepen its effect on the populace. They would feel helpless; the youngest might feel traumatized. The victim's family and friends would be ashamed of both their helplessness and the victim, one of their own. They would probably not speak to anyone of the killing, nor discuss it among themselves. His memory would be wiped out forever. Their solidarity as a family would be shattered by the silence, rendering them less resistant to Roman control.
The singular difference with the death of Jesus was his own willingness to be the priest, altar, and lamb of sacrifice. His willingness rendered the incident neither killing nor a bizarre form of suicide. His disciples might not have understood the fine distinctions as the soldiers shoved them out of the way and rushed upon the Lord. They were bewildered and confused by his arrest, trial, and immediate execution. If they saw the crucifixion as a military or government ceremony, they could not see its religious significance until, in the light of Easter morning, they recalled his Last Supper.
That too was a ceremony; he spoke of his body and blood and insisted that they consume the pascal bread and ceremonial wine as if they were his flesh and blood. They remembered his washing their feet -- a most unexpected and confounding gesture.
Finally, they saw his last pascal meal as the first part of one continuous ritual which began at sunset and ended at sunset. When they broke bread together, and shared the cup among them, in memory of him, they knew they were caught up in the rites of crucifixion. But it was no longer a horror; it was unspeakably beautiful.
Without the Mass the crucifixion of Jesus is an empty gesture. It is the pointless death of another human victim, and his name is wiped out forever. With the Mass the devout accompany the Lord into the overwhelming presence of his God and Father. Eating his flesh and drinking his blood, we are his body as he offers himself in a sacrifice of atonement, gratitude, and praise. God is pleased with us because he is pleased with Jesus; he finds us worthy because he is worthy; we are rendered holy as God is holy.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.