A Serious Second

It is Good Friday, after all.

Last night Gramps and I went to the Maundy Thursday service at our church. We entered the sanctuary in darkness; the only light came from several candelabras lighting the center aisle. The music was somber and stirring— especially the singers, who sang aching acapella harmonies.

There were images of Jesus fading in and away on the back wall. I studied the faces, scrutinizing the artistic renderings of His expression. These painted renditions have always been a struggle for me to accept. The shoddy paintings show Jesus as a pristine glowing Anglican ninny—you know the kind. That Jesus looks like he never got his feet dirty, let alone touched the skin of a leper. The decent ones capture one characteristic well—either His kindness, or His sadness, or His anguish, or His holiness—but I’ve yet to see one that captures them all. And they’re always much too good-looking. I don’t think Jesus could have been very good-looking. He would never have been as productive. Plus, prophesies indicate He wasn’t anything exciting to look at.

Wish I could see an image of Him that was both forgiving and firm; both ferociously powerful and full of mercy. Would love to see a face that is kind and tender, but also capable of terrifying righteous anger. Something painfully human, but also searing in its holiness. I want to see a face that carries the burden of the whole world on His shoulders, that had every reason to despair and feel alone, that was deeply lined with the stress of His mission-- but who possessed the strength and faith to endure it. Wish I could hear His voice— with all its humor, its edge, its power, conviction, and gentleness. How did He tell them that they were forgiven?

What a ride it must have been for Him. That Thursday, this night. When we’re feeling especially down or forlorn, we pray to Him. “Help me Lord-- I know that you have already saved us from all of this.” But He couldn’t pray that prayer. He had to DO the saving.

Wish I could see what His face actually looked like. Wish I could properly imagine the nuances of His different expressions. Wish I could hear just the way He laughed, and prayed.