Holy Week
I am the last person to mention Holy Week. Holy Week is the commemoration of the apogee of the Christian mythos: Jesus’ triumphant arrival in Jerusalem, and events that follow. Think of the hoopla surrounding the winner of ‘American Idol.’ As consequence of the word of mouth rumor of his outlandish teaching (love your enemy, forgive, etc.) and perhaps of his miracles — he attracts a crowd. He also provokes notice by the socially conservative group who define the status quo. They engender an opposing flash-mob. As is always the case the police step in, — Jesus is given a “hearing” before the governor. He must answer for the civil unrest. Rome had never heard of trial by jury of one’s peers, so Jesus was summarily sentenced to death by the governor. Very efficient. Case closed. Next!
This takes one to Friday in the Christian Holy Week. Following is a detail of Jesus execution, his words spoken while he dies of suffocation, as he hangs on a Roman cross. The seven sayings from the cross. Of course there’s the Christian interpretation of all of this. Jesus is God sacrificing himself to effect the acquittal of humanity. This get-out-of-jail-free card from God, to God, is on behalf of all of the bastards who thoughtlessly sacrifice their fellowmen and women….
Yes, it makes no sense, is quite scandalous actually. Another word that comes to mind is “absurd.”
A Believer would object to my reluctance to mention the resurrection of Jesus,… I just find it impossible to assign any meaning to an alleged event that is contrary to the laws of physics, for which we have NO analogy in the entirety of our history. How could I opine about that, and by implication suggest that you “buy in” to that part of the story? What words are apt to an alleged empirical event that is logically impossible? There are no words.
It is nearly springtime, and I see the bluebells carpeting the leaf strewn ground under the oaks, and a few buttercups are blooming. The sun shines gloriously. Yet, I feel the paradox because Ukraine is about to face another onslaught by the Russian army, this time from the Donbas region. I read that Alexander Dvornikov has been appointed by Putin as theater commander. Dvornikov commanded the Russian military in Syria. Springtime is a season…. of flowers and slaughter.
Jesus remains dying in torment from the cross. He is a symbol, a witness to the inhumanity of which we are capable, when our insecurity overwhelms us, and we are unwilling to share power, to accord independence and freedom to those groups who historically have been oppressed: Ukrainians, women, LGBT-trans individuals, Blacks, — anyone “outside” of my racial/gender defined tribe.
What about the photographs? They were taken over the past week. The tiny yellow flower is a crocus, the blue flowers are bluebells. The metal jacketed bullet is of a Russian AK-47 assault rifle.
6 thoughts on “Holy Week”
This week China continues to support Russia from being removed from the Human Rights Council—not surprising. Fifty-eight countries choose to abstain rather than do the right thing, politics and another example of how screwed up our world is. I feel your frustration and your pain. Religion(s) set aside, we are all humans and must take the road that allows us to reach out and take care of one another. Being humane is to be humane at all cost. Daily we witness genocide in Ukraine and in this, all countries must come together and say NO!
Well said. Nothing has changed since history has been recorded. I agree that to-be-humane is the standard, and always will be.
“Let us Be human.” – Ludwig Wittgenstein
March was the ancient Romans’ beginning of the military season … budding flowers and wars of conquest …. life and death entwined and connected. It’s easy to bewail humanity’s lack of humanity. God knows that there is more than enough to bewail. But look to the stubborn flowers who persist in growing and blooming despite the jackboots and tank treads. Look to the woman who sings in the bombed out square and the musicians who accompany her sometimes during the lull in bombing; look to the women and men who take care of the children; look to the refugees who share their bread with each other. Nobody whipping up magic loaves and fishes there but ordinary people sharing crusts and crumbs with each other. Look to the Polish women and men who say they are doing for the Ukrainians what no one did for them the last time that Russian tanks rolled through European streets; look at the strollers and baby carriages women and men leave at train stations for refugee mothers and their exhausted babies and toddlers. Look at volunteers from all over the world who come to bring food and cook for those who have fled.
Margaret Mead once said that the first sign archaeologists found of civilization was a broken femur which had healed. It meant that someone had taken the time to stay with the victim, to care them, feed them and protect them from predators. That’s where you look for humanity. Not up high on the thrones and in boardrooms among the kings and would be kings, the generals and the men who send on to conquest.
But we are taught to look there, aren’t we. We are taught to consider them the paradigms of what humanity should be and how disappointed we are when they turn out to be petty and vicious criminals drunk on the power they’ve drawn from the people below them.
Very very well said.
There are NO magic loaves and fishes. There’s just “us” and the flowers. The flower must bloom, as that is encoded into its DNA. But we language enabled mammals know what we are doing to one another. It’s late, high time that we bend the arc of history away from gratuitous violence, war triggered by someone’s displeasure with another people, — toward solicitude and care for one another.
I am a simple fool. Fool enough to believe it possible.
Join the rest of us fools who keep thinking that weaving nets of kindness and responsibility is the only human/humane way to live.
O.K.