As we move closer to the height of the commemoration of the Lenten season, the narratives also increase in intensity. Yesterday, we already witnessed John’s interpretation on the betrayal of Judas. This day also focuses on the Judas narrative, this time with the lenses of Matthew. It would thus be redundant to focus on the Judas narrative for this day, as it was the focus yesterday; instead, we can look into the running theme found in all the passages assigned for today.
This theme surfaces in Psalm 69 as one of desperation and distress on one hand, and (almost stubborn) hope on the other. Let us look at some excerpts:
13 But I pray to you, LORD,
in the time of your favor;
in your great love, O God,
answer me with your sure salvation.
14 Rescue me from the mire,
do not let me sink;
deliver me from those who hate me,
from the deep waters.
15 Do not let the floodwaters engulf me
or the depths swallow me up
or the pit close its mouth over me.
16 Answer me, LORD, out of the goodness of your love;
in your great mercy turn to me.
17 Do not hide your face from your servant;
answer me quickly, for I am in trouble.
18 Come near and rescue me;
deliver me because of my foes.
Setting aside some allusions on the passion and death of Jesus, what we can clearly point out is the voice of desperate hope; that, in the hour of his or her darkness, the believer choose to endure because there is definitely something greater than him that will come.
As this theme was already discussed last Monday, it might do well to contextualize this in the Lenten Season, specifically in the approaching commemoration on the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus.
For the believer, the story of Jesus is one of largely a triumph over death, over sin. This is entirely true, but when the Jesus narrative (and consequently, our faith) does not go beyond the disturbing story of Jesus on the cross and forgets to include His ministry to the poor, then I think we might be missing the point. When we place ourselves in the shoes of Jesus Himself, we realize that the impending reconciliation of all things unto Himself becomes difficult to grasp precisely because Jesus undertook a life of self-giving, of emptying Himself to the poorest of Israel. One can only imagine the frustration that all the other Israelites missed the point of His ministry: it was never about Jesus, but for the poorest lot, and it is this commitment to oneself to the other that will free oneself from the bondage of sin, a bondage which has engulfed all those who accuse Jesus, especially Judas.
To think that everything He did He did with all of Himself, and yet still is found wanting by worldly standards. We ask ourselves: are we truly ready to accept failure? Are we able to keep face even in the midst of humiliation, even when in our hearts we know we have done right, that we have followed the Word of God genuinely?
But of course, as we have said earlier, there are two poles to our reflection: one of desperation and despair, and one of hope. What we have illustrated is the despair pole: we see that in the Psalms that it is precisely because of the experience of despair that he or she is able to hope, to believe that there is something beyond suffering and despair.
Going back to ourselves, we should ask: are we truly ready to accept our suffering and despair and offer them up to whatever is beyond our own powers? Or to rephrase the question: are we ready to admit that we cannot do everything, that if we focus too much on our own powers, we will only end up in despair? Are we truly ready to accept, at least for the believer, that Jesus is truly the incarnate Word of God through His ministry, passion, death, and resurrection? For we see that it is hope itself that sets up the possibility for believing in the resurrection. As such, most of the narratives leading up to the resurrection event exude some voice of hope.
So two poles for today: (1) are we ready to accept our finitude? and (2) are we ready to truly accept this finitude by assenting to an Other that always lies beyond our comprehension? These two only point to one thing: that suffering does not hold the last word; that there is always hope to believe in love.
A very blessed Holy Wednesday to you! 🙂
The Waking Life is Worth Living 