Mid-lent : Why it matters
The half-way mark, on the journey through the life of Jesus on the way to the cross and resurrection is here. Today is the twenty-fifth day of Lent (Paathi nombu, according to the Syrian Christian tradition).
I get it, the last thing you want to hear during difficult times like these is about the cross. There’s enough suffering around us, I hear you telling me. You priests can say your prayers and organise services, because that is what you do, but please, we have enough suffering around us.
I understand.
But the suffering around us cannot be denied. The grip of evil need not be externalised and attributed to a Satan or a devil. The Bible tells us each of us can become a Satan — the symbol of evil. “Get away from me, Satan!” says Jesus to a Peter who, only moments ago, had made the confessional statement, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” How could he be called Satan? Jesus confronts our ability to become a symbol and perpetrator of sin. Sin? I haven’t killed anybody or committed adultery! You Christians are obsessed with sin, you say. I hear you. I am not trying to judge us here. Instead, my attempt is to persuade you to have good look at ourselves and our thoughts and behaviours. The attempt is to perhaps look behind the veneer of #happiness and #blessed-ness, and have a clear view of the quaking little bundles of anxiety that we are.
Can’t forgive, Can’t relate
The Australian cartoonist and political commentator Michael Leunig’s take on the situation around us is incisive and accurate (from his poem Christmas Carols):
Some rationalise suffering say that it is a reality of life and the meaning of life is Dukkha or suffering itself. Others say it is your karma and you can’t do anything but suffer for what you have done (in this life or the previous). Some say those who have been elected and predestined to heaven will not suffer, while others writhe in their misery. We all like pointing fingers outwards, as far away from us as possible.
But we can become residence quarters of sin. Sin, that causes broken families, wet pillows, suicides, loneliness in a crowd, sleepless nights, irrational decisions and even evil intent to kill, steal and destroy. We are capable of inflicting untold pain. We can become skilled in letting yourself and others bleed with suffering until their last breath. We can keep knees on someone’s neck in the name of the law and suffocate them to death. We can rape , gang rape and kill and have the audacity to walk free like nothing happened. One need not travel as far in history as the holocaust to describe this potential. One can turn on Netflix, Amazon Prime, cable TV and movies and find this theme integrally interwoven into the narrative.
This human tendency can be seen today as well at the beginning of time. Cain’s killing of his brother Abel appears in the fourth chapter in the very first book of a sixty-six-book Bible. Those who collected the biblical narratives together in the early days saw it fit to mention these as one of the first stories. Notably, it appears after the very chapter in which their parents seek ‘more’ when they had nearly everything. They got it and then they were lost and ashamed. If nothing else, it tells us where our desire for more and our anxiety to have everything will lead us to — hiding. So much for wanting more and getting it too.
Human nature seems anxiety prone, ever since ancient times, immortalised in that narrative. At the slightest hint of perceived misfortune, we shiver, tremble and frantically run around to make quick short term fixes, often with grave consequences. Get anxious. Quick Fix. Grave consequences. Repeat. And then we look outward for someone to blame.
The backstory of the mid-lent
The Israelites in the biblical book of Numbers (Chapter 21) are a perfect example of what we just said. As nomadic nation on the way to their promised land, they were vulnerable to attacks and persecution. One time, the King of Arad came out to attack this tiny vulnerable nation-on-the-move of mostly twelve tribes. They prayed to their God and their God delivered them from the enemies. That certainly was not the first time. Yet, as they continued their journey and travelled through a desert, “they grew impatient” (verse 4). “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the desert? There is no bread! There is no water! And we detest this miserable food!” they complained. The anxiety in their voices are palpable. But when you are with someone who has vowed to deliver you, lead you and guide you and help you reach the promise land, this sounds terribly rude.
Venomous snakes appear out of nowhere (verse 6). The narrator of story says the Lord (YHWH) sent them. The Lord must have become really angry. When you are not ready to trust another in a relationship despite scores of examples of faithfulness, anger results — a very human thing. It seems that the writer of the narrative attributed a human emotion to an omnipotent God. Possibly because he knew that anger would be the natural reaction of humans to this predicament. The snakes go on to kill many. Snake bites cause people to bleed to death. The poison in the bloodstream immediately begins to affect the internal organs. It’s a difficult death.
What makes the danger worse is the impact that impatience of some may have had on the life of the many. Many died, and possibly some of them did not doubt the Lord that much. Yet the consequences had to be born by all ( just like the consequences of industry induced climate change, are having to be borne even by populations and small nations who who have no part in contributing to it). The Lord had saved them from war, from the mighty Egyptians, provided food and water and shelter. The Lord tied himself to a covenant with them and in turn all that was asked was faithfulness — faithfulness expressed through trust. Instead, they harboured anxiety and complained. Trust had not taken root apparently.
It is interesting that the people then come back to Moses to ask the Lord to save them — the very Lord who had saved them from mighty armies. Moses is directed to make a snake and lift it up on a pole so that who ever was bitten by a snake could look at the pole and live (ancient narrative, interesting twists!). So he made a bronze snake, lifted it up on a pole and then whenever anyone was bitten by a snake and looked at it, they lived.
The snake on the pole as a symbol went on to become a symbol of healing. Christian Medical College, Vellore, India has this symbol on their logo.
The bridge to the Gospel
The story of the community who had a covenant of faithfulness to the Lord, does not end there. Their anxiety continued. They went on making one mistake after the other, having to bear calamitous consequences.
Then the Bible tells us the Word, who was with God and was God became flesh and lived among us (John 1:1–2 & 14). Jesus was his name. Those who have seen me have seen the father, he said. And one day, at the age of thirty three, he is lifted up on a wooden cross on the mount of Golgotha. The very name meant skull. It meant death. You never say to anyone, your skull looks beautiful. We say you are beautiful, when we see a face — a face with flesh, blood and skin, rather than a skull. A skull is what is left of a dead person’s face; a face that has no life in or on it. No wonder. Historians say that the hill of Golgotha was an execution ground where people were crucified. Hence the place was named after what was left on it — death and lifeless skulls. How fitting a metaphor a life without trust, a life of impatience and anxiety. Such life remains dead even though it appears alive. How tragic if life was to be summed up with that.
But, in third chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.” (verses 14–15).
You are saying at this point, I can’t live that perfect life you are preaching about. We are not perfect. In fact, I am #flawesome.
Agreed. We are not perfect. But that does not mean our imperfection does not have consequences. Yet the truth is we cannot mend us on our own. I’m reminded of the Backstreet Boys song, ‘Shape of my heart’, in which the singer cries out, “Save me from the man that I’ve become…” It’s a cry of the whole world, put to music and sung out loud. Yes, we can’t do this on our own. That’s where the man on the cross and the symbol of the snake on the pole becomes meaningful.
‘The snake on the pole and the Christ on the cross’
Rev. Dr. V. S. Varghese, Ph. D, our Religions Professor explains that in ancient cultures the snake was a symbol of some of the fertility cults. Here fertility cults were not only about procreation, but also sustenance of life. But the problem with Israel which went after fertility cults was that they submitted themselves to the life negating practices, which was abominable to God. Some of them even required human sacrifice and immoral practices. God had warned them from messing around them.
But here, the snake was a symbol of regeneration. Snakes shed their skin and obtain their new skin. This symbolism meant regeneration and new life and thus, the symbol of the snake in the narrative in Numbers 21. When people saw the snake raised up on a pole by Moses, according to God’s order, they were saved from dying, despite their sins.
In the New Testament, we see the parallels in Jesus being lifted up on the cross (John 12:32). The phrase “lifted up” has captured great interest of Biblical scholars who juxtapose it with Numbers 21. It meant Jesus was now the one that could save. Look at the cross and you can be freed from sin- sin, which leads to a loss of real living. Instead, those who seek Christ will have abundant life. So Jesus’ crucifixion was now the new symbol of healing and redemption. The symbol of punishment and death (the cross) was turned by Jesus into a symbol of new life.
Rt. Rev. Joseph Mar Barnabas, of the Mar Thoma Syrian Church once joined our evening worship at the Mar Thoma Theological Seminary chapel. In his homily, he mentioned something very interesting. He said, twice in the Holy Communion, there is an act of ‘elevation’ (lifting up). The first is just before reading the Gospel (also termed Evangelion/Euangelion in Syriac/Greek) — the preacher lifts up the Bible saying that it is the Goodnews, the gospel of Jesus Christ that proclaims life and salvation to all. It is a deliberate display so that all may see! No one should miss it!
The Second is when the Holy Elements are brought forward. There the priest stands in the sanctuary facing the worshippers and lifts up the elements saying, in a poetic manner, The holy body and blood of Lord Jesus Christ , broken and shed on Golgotha /Calvary is given to your for the forgiveness of your sins…”
The body and blood are elevated before the people so that none may miss it.
He says, the Word of God and the Holy Eucharist (Holy Commmunion) invite you to the abundant life promised by God through Jesus. Both the Word and the Eucharist can lead you to the Christ who saves. Therefore they are lifted up. Barnabas Thirumeni went a step ahead and said when the priest elevates both, he is elevating Christ — the Christ revealed in the Word of God ( the scriptures, the Bible) and the Christ, who is the Bread of life! Therefore, the elevation is an invitation to new life. It is an invitation for all those who have lost hope and the fullness of life to look at Jesus Christ who saves us from sin, mediocrity and gives us life abundant.
Re-enactment on the day of the mid-lent’
In the same note, the Mid-lent (Paathi nombu) service in the Mar Thoma Syrian church is featured with readings and narrative prayers from from Numbers 21 and John 3. The liturgical hymns in the form of narratives are conducted one after the other facing the four different directions : east, west, north and south, signifying salvation and redemptions people in all parts of the world (or the whole world).
Mid-lent is a call to trust in the God who created us, sustains us and believes in us. It is a resistance to be a slave to evil’s favourite tactic of inducing anxiety into our lives, an anxiety that leads you to trust none but your irrational thoughts. It is an invitation to trust the Lord. It is a call to trust in the love and guidance of the one who has called us to be a blessing to the nations. More importantly it is a call to be willing to wait. It is a reminder to us of our imperfections and their consequences. It is the ultimate invitation to look for a better model, a higher help that could lead to a more beautiful life, freed from the bondage of anxiety and impatience. The words of the late Catholic bishop and poet, Dom Helder Camara are deeply meaningful as here, because he rightly mentions we need hope even though hope in Jesus might seem a risky business when we are already anxious to even trust anyone:
Hope without risk
is not hope
which is believing
in risky loving,
trusting others
in the dark
the blind leap
letting God take over.
May God bless you this Mid-Lent as we journey together to the cross and resurrection.
Mathews George (Rev.), | Mar Thoma Syrian Church |
MTh I (Christian Theology), UTC, Bengaluru, India.
