MY GOD, MY GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?

 

Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) 1954, by Salvador Dali

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer;
and by night, but find no rest.
....

Yet it was you who took me from the womb;
you kept me safe on my mother’s breast.
On you I was cast from my birth,
and since my mother bore me you have been my God.
Do not be far from me,
for trouble is near
and there is no one to help.

(Psalm 22:1-2, 9-11)

In a wonderful essay at the Daily Episcopalian, Christopher Evans reminds us to connect the Incarnation (which is more than a pretty story!) to the Crucifixion. My heart leaped as I read, because I find that connection somewhat lacking in the present day liturgies. When Joseph and Mary took Jesus to the temple in Jerusalem for the purification ceremony, old Simeon had a word or two to say:

And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. 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.’

(Luke 2:33-35)

In his essay, Evans says:

In working to correct an imbalance, it seems that now we want little to do with a pained and suffering God; with a God who nurses, shits, and bleeds; with a God who identifies with flesh, blood, and bone definitively. The Nativity, the Incarnation, is reduced to sweet manger scenes and gifts of sweets. The cross is an after thought to the joys of Easter. We want nothing of the Creator who, in J.S. Bach’s words for St. John’s Passion, dies.

But without this bodiliness, this fleshliness, the Resurrection becomes a ghostly thing.

That God came down, that God took upon God's own self the human form to become one of us, to live as we live, to struggle as we struggle, to love and take joy in human companionship, and, finally, to suffer and die, and to be raised up, flesh and blood, is the miracle of Christmas, and the miracle of Easter, and the miracle of our salvation.

As Evans says:

It is this fleshly God, Jesus Christ, who goes all the way for us that captures my heart and imagination, that makes utterly awesome the Resurrection, the Ascension, the Communion of Saints, the Creation, the Holy Communion.

Amen!