As Lent comes to an end in a few days, and with it, our long period of expectant waiting, we have occasion to contemplate the central mystery of our faith: the cross and its role in our redemption. What does Jesus’ death and resurrection mean? Those of us who grew up in church may be numb to the depth and complexity of such a question, but recently I have been struck by the need to explore it and to understand it more deeply.
Jesus’ death and resurrection mark the triumph of Life Himself over death.
Jesus’ crucifixion is the ultimate example of selfless love, giving Himself up to save others.
It is the ultimate example of love for enemies, of overcoming evil with good, of using God’s uncanny means of revolutionary submission to defeat– against all odds– the world’s methods of violence, domination, and deceit.
In his suffering, humiliation, and death, Jesus fully identifies with the human condition and stands in loving solidarity with His creation.
Jesus’ death and resurrection make it possible for us to be forgiven and to forgive others.
Jesus’ suffering means the healing of all the violence, fear, and sin of humanity by means of absorbing that evil into Himself, becoming sin on our behalf, identifying with human sin to the point of experiencing the abandonment of God. (2 Corinthians 5:21, Matthew 27:46).
Jesus’ own death redeemed suffering, defeat, failure, and death itself so that our own experience of these things can now be useful in drawing us closer to God and in transforming us into His likeness.
His sacrifice ushers in the restoration of the whole world, creating a new covenant, creating the Church, creating a new way to be human.
Jesus’ example calls us to follow Him into a life of suffering and death ourselves, and promises us that after we lose our lives, we will find our Life. Death comes before resurrection.
So, was the culmination of Jesus’ earthly life an act of victory, or love, or non-violent resistance, or solidarity, or healing, or redemption, or creation, or invitation? The really wonderful thing is, it’s all of these things. It’s a Mystery too big to be contained in one dimension, or one literary image, or one explanation. But it’s a Mystery worth living and dying for, worth spending our whole lives unpacking through study and first-hand experience; big enough to contain the full meaning of our lives, and to make any other pursuit or ambition look small and insignificant by comparison.
*I am deeply indebted to Walter Wink, Richard Rohr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, John Howard Yoder, and Richard Foster, among others, for opening my eyes to the many layers of meaning inherent in the cross of Christ.