A Holy Week Reflection
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What does he think as he hangs there?
What memories fill his mind? What emotions flood his soul?
A strange thing—divinity crucified. An impossible thing—one would think. But there he hangs.
Not a very divine thing to do.
Does he perceive the absurdity? Does his blood boil? What does he think as he hangs there?
It’s no easy task trying to glimpse the thing from behind his eyes and feel it from inside his heart. But his words beckon us to follow them back into the abyss from which they sprang.
He speaks to God, a scoundrel to his left, his mother, his friend, and his tormentors.
He forgives, he promises, he agonizes, he thirsts, and he gives up. What does he think as he hangs there?
The question bursts with infinity. But surely, we must say, he thinks it is real. The grieving mother, the repentant thief, the splinters in his back, the gagging on his own tongue, the godforsakenness of it all.
It is real and it means something.
Such a strong temptation—to flood the abyss of Golgotha with the light of explanations. There are certainly worse things one could do.
But first, let us pause and see the thing itself.
God hangs.
It is real and it means something.