Journey to the Cross
What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
to bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
to bear the dreadful curse for my soul!
from “What Wondrous Love Is This,” anonymous (ca. 1811)
The soldiers took Jesus prisoner. Carrying his cross by himself, he went out to a place called Skull Place (in Aramaic, Golgotha). That’s where they crucified him—and two others with him, one on each side and Jesus in the middle. Pilate had a public notice written and posted on the cross. It read “Jesus the Nazarene, the king of the Jews.”
John 19:16b-19
In the beginning of the gospel, John tells us that in Jesus “the Word became flesh and made his home among us” (1:14). And now in this crucifixion scene, Jesus hangs on a cross between two other people. From beginning to end, Jesus’ “home” is among humanity.
“For that which [Jesus] has not assumed, He has not healed,” said St. Gregory of Nazianzus (384 AD), “but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved.” To put it another way: when Jesus became human, he became fully human. That means Jesus experienced joy and sadness, love and suffering, and even death. Jesus made his home with us so that all our experiences could be healed by him. Being crucified between two other people is a way of showing Jesus’ full connection to our experiences of suffering, pain, and loss. On Good Friday we look toward Easter for the hope of healing.
I wonder how hearing that God became human to bring healing makes you feel. What is your connection to Jesus today?
Jay Kieve
Dear Jesus, I know only what it means to be a human, and some days that hurts.
Thank you for joining us to bring healing.
Amen.
When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down,
when I was sinking down, sinking down,
when I was sinking down beneath God’s righteous frown,
Christ laid aside his crown for my soul, for my soul,
Christ laid aside his crown for my soul.
from “What Wondrous Love Is This,” anonymous (ca. 1811)