Canter Bridge

The narrative of Jesus’ judicial execution balloons with expressions of contempt. Even the sign placed above his head gets at its truth only by the prickly way of sarcasm:

Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, ‘This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.’

It seems every single protagonist of the tragic story manifests only derision for the crucified messiah.

When two bandits were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, ‘You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.’ In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, ‘He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to; for he said, “I am God’s Son.”‘ The bandits who were crucified with him also taunted him in the same way.

It is impossible to say what portion of the bitter cup that was Jesus’ to drink that day was filled with the painful irony of rejection by those whom Jesus purposed to save from themselves. Surely it must have been a significant element of his suffering, this casual, mocking buffoonery.

We taste it in small measure, though it does not feel small. Only a reflective distance from our own experience of having become contemptible allows us to assess it by its proper measure. In the crucible of rejection, we feel only its searing heat, the smell of our own flesh cooked by the mindless enmity of people whose hostility we cannot comprehend.

Jesus, we are told by an ancient christological interpretation of one of the prophet Isaiah’s famous servant songs, was ‘acquainted with grief’. It is an odd, pregnant description, redolent of intimate knowledge of an object of which one would prefer to remain ignorant. We too, in moments, become all too familiar with grief.

We may not see the purpose of the calamity that causes it. We know only this, that Jesus has been there, indeed is so even now. He is here with us while people with access to our soul, people who share our bread, sit down to cast lots over what remains of us when their violence has had its way.