I’m not sure how many of you are familiar with the Princess Bride. But there’s a clip where one of the main characters, Wesley, tells Princess Buttercup that “Life is pain, Highness. And anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.”
Maybe this clip makes sense to you, given our readings. I share this rather tongue-in-cheek, of course. Certainly not with the intention of starting us out on a grim note! But there is some truth here. Maybe it’s not so much that all of life is pain, as Wesley seems to be inferring, but rather that in life there are recurring "cycles of pain."
The passages today have some things to say about pain. We’re on the cusp of Lenten season. Next week, we’ll begin with Ash Wednesday where we consider that we are dust. During this season we’ll spend some time re-mystifying what that means. So in the meantime, I don’t want to steal Lent’s thunder by going too far down that road! Today, I’m going to intentionally focus on the less literal manifestations of death that can be drawn from these passages. Not to tip toe around the pain that comes with literal death, but to lay the groundwork for what is to come in our communal liturgical lives.
For our purposes today, we'll consider the cycles of death we experience as it relates to the very human condition of living.
Jesus' living is incredibly important to Hebrews passage. In fact, in so few verses, Jesus' humanity feels almost over-emphasized! In just five verses there are multiple references to his flesh and blood, to his sharing in the experiences of his human siblings. Why is this humanity emphasized so heavily? Perhaps it’s so we understand humanity in relation to suffering -- Jesus' suffering and our own. So we understand our cycles of pain -- and even, perhaps, the moments when we do feel like "life is pain" -- are put in the context of Jesus' shared experience with us.
I'm not suggesting Jesus experienced every single feeling of pain or suffering or difficulty that exists. Or that he could even have imagined what those things would look like in a 21st Century environment. But perhaps that his depth and breadth of suffering covers the human experience, covers what suffering feels like in our souls and bones and psyches
We intentionally juxtaposed this Hebrews text with the story of the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus' own life -- and the specificities in the Garden of Gethsemane -- show us that the objective of living is not to be rid of suffering. (Yes, there is some emphasis in Hebrews on the ultimate destruction of death and we're going to book mark that for later in the year.)
For our purposes today, the end of suffering in the world as we know it is not reality. Creation cries out to be lovingly knit back together, to bind together these cracks where harm and suffering do slip through. We work for that kin-dom vision! But in the meantime, expecting this to already be the case will lead to more suffering!
Of course, neither is the objective to sanctify suffering as something just or deserved or somehow divinely orchestrated. So, in this quest to both accept reality, and to not drop into despair, we accompany one another. This is the power of the Gethsemane story. Jesus cries out to divine spirit ... and God doesn't "take the cup," or even try to soften what is to come. God goes with Jesus through this particular cycle of pain.
We talk about God going with Jesus, and by extension, with us, but how can we wrap our arms around that idea? It’s hard sometimes. God's spirit is transcendent, God is that "je nais se quois," something that can be hard to pinpoint. Because God encompasses all, including our very beings, maybe sometimes "God going with us" is an internal resonance that's super clear. A moment during struggle where things move into clarity and alignment and there is a deep sense of accompaniment.
Sometimes we desire accompaniment that is more concrete. Luckily, the Body of Christ is not a metaphor, is not abstract, it's this right here. It’s the people. Hebrews reminds us that life includes cycles of pain; Gethsemane reminds us that, while pain is not removed, there is power in accompaniment: God accompanies us, and we accompany one another.
This helps mitigate the fear of pain and suffering, helps to transform and transmute it. The angels didn’t say to Mary and Joseph and the shepherds and magi, “there’s nothing to fear.” The angel said, “be not afraid.” And for that, we need the witness and presence of the body of Christ. It allows us to be curious about what will show up as we walk through cycles of suffering. To be accompanied through our fear and into the harvest on the other side.
This is what the power of presence can do. Not removing pain. Not removing fear. There's almost an alchemy to watching our fear transform into freedom when we are witnessed and accompanied through life's suffering. It's an acceptance of reality, but not the permanent state of pain that Wesley alludes to in the Princess Bride. Our "cup" may not pass from us in the way we wish, but the promise of divine presence is with us -- internally, ineffably, and concretely.
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