Book Review: The Hope of Glory

Information about the book

The Hope of Glory: Reflections on the Last Words of Jesus from the Cross by Jon Meacham.  Covergent Books, New York, 2020.  Amazon.

Summary

From Amazon:

For Jon Meacham, as for believers worldwide, the events of Good Friday and Easter reveal essential truths about Christianity. A former vestryman of Trinity Church Wall Street and St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue, Meacham delves into that intersection of faith and history in this meditation on the seven phrases Jesus spoke from the cross.

Beginning with “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do” and ending with “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit,” Meacham captures for the reader how these words epitomize Jesus’s message of love, not hate; grace, not rage; and, rather than vengeance, extraordinary mercy. For each saying, Meacham composes an essay on the origins of Christianity and how Jesus’s final words created a foundation for oral and written traditions that upended the very order of the world.

Writing in a tone more intimate than any of his previous works, Jon Meacham returns us to the moment that transformed Jesus from a historical figure into the proclaimed Son of God, worshiped by billions.

Impressions

I was surprised to see this book written by Jon Meacham. I've only read one other of his book, And There was Light: Abraham Lincoln and the American Struggle.  That book is a biography, as are most of Meacham's books.  The idea of this book intrigued me, though, so I ordered it.

Each chapter is a short devotion or reflection on each of Jesus's last words. The content is engaging and thought-provoking. It comes from a place of faith, and isn't afraid to ask questions so that our faith and understanding can grow deeper. I thought it was excellent, and would make a great book study for discussion. I highly recommend it.

Posts about book

Meacham Hope 

Experiencing Forsakeness

I continued reading from the book The Hope of Glory by Jon Meacham. This book is a reflection on the seven last words of Jesus. This post is based on the chapter concerning Matthew 27: 46-47:

And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Meacham writes: "...Jesus was fully briefed on his earthly mission, then how could his cry be taken literally? Why ask whether God has forsaken him? Why cry in pain when he must have known that resurrection lay ahead?"

I stopped reading the chapter to write this post; to share my thoughts about this rhetorical question.

Despite Jesus's knowledge of what is happening, and what is to come, and why this is part of his mission, he is still suffering a crucifixion. I think these words are an authentic and heart-felt expression of what is happening to him. He is in intense, unimaginable pain. These words tell us he felt forsaken - what a word! More than alone, more than abandoned. Forsaken - left alone.

I pray we all know that there is hope for us, that God is present with us, even this moment, and yet we also can know the pain of suffering. Knowledge of a future of hope does not eliminate the present pain of whatever is happening to us. The experience of pain, or loss, or forsakenness isn't eliminated by hope. I think we can endure because of the hope, but we still experience the "awfulness" of what is happening to us. Seeing that Jesus experienced the same not only tell us about the 100% of Jesus that was human, but reassures us that Jesus knows what our lives are like.

Of course Jesus's experience and words were authentic, even in the midst of hope. That is our experience, too.

Father, Forgive them

I read Jon Meacham's book, The Hope of Glory.  It is a study of the last seven words/phrases of Christ.

The first chapter is a look at "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." His thesis is that while we often use these words as evidence of not only Jesus's forgiveness of those who are executing him, but of all of us - evidence of the forgiving nature of Jesus and therefore God, he (Meacham) doesn't see it that way.

Meacham proposes that "Jesus's death was essential to Christian hope."  He says, "So why does Luke have Jesus seem to be forgiving his tormentors for playing the critical and necessary role in bringing about the salvation few the world and the coming of a kingdom of justice?" I other words (as I see what Meacham is saying), the idea that the death of Christ is essential for God's plan of salvation means that those who perpetrated it are not in need of forgiveness. Does it seem to you that he is proposing that because the death of essential, those who executed Jesus were working in God's plan?

I'm going to leave aside the idea that Jesus's death is essential to Christian hope for just a moment (I think we could have a discussion around that idea, too. I'm troubled by the idea that the executioners do not need forgiveness (because of a lack of sin in this instance) because the death of Jesus was part of God's plan. They didn't kill him because they were motivating by bringing about God's kingdom. They killed him because they were threatened and were seeking to continue their power.  They executed an innocent man - not for any kingdom-bringing purposes. It certainly seems to me that forgiveness was necessary.

In fact, the very idea of their actions demonstrates not a motivation to bring about the kingdom, but evidence of our need (and their need) for grace and forgiveness. If God needed the execution of his son to bring about the salvation of the world (which I have my doubts about), then could it be because we are a people who would commit these acts? I don't think we can ignore the sin when the sin is the reason God needs to intervene.

 

The Trinity and Salvation

Why was the death of Christ necessary for our salvation?

No, I asked you first.

I don't have an answer, but I do know that there are many theories.  You can google them if you like.  I think Adam Hamilton reviews several of them in one of his books.

I was listening to a podcast "You Made it Weird" by Pete Holmes: he was interviewing Nadia Bolz-Weber.  I liked it, but I wouldn't recommend it if you are bothered by language.  Anyway, one of them was summing up one of the theories like this: God had one son, and he loved him very much. But we are so sinful - you are so sinful - that God had to kill his son in order to forgive our sins.  

That's an exaggeration of a theory, but it does reflect some of the thought around one of the theories of atonement.

Stop for a moment and think of the trinity.  God is Jesus.  Jesus is Holy Spirit. Holy Spirit is God.  Jesus was incarnated as a human - but that means that God was incarnate.  God died.  God loved us so much that God died.

When you shine the light of the Trinity on the crucifixion, it changes the understanding of it, I think.

No, I still don't have the answer.  But do think about the question.

Stigmata

In his study, Easter Earthquake, James Harnish says, "...a medical dictionary defined stigmataas "cutaneous evidence of systemic illness."  

We think of Christ's scars as stigmata - evidence of his suffering on the cross.  Harnish goes further than that to provide examples of stigmata in our society: starving children, refugees, murder victims....  And if you use the example of "cutaneous evidence of systemic illness," those comparisons make sense.

Where in your community do you see stigmata? How is your church and how are you called to take on that suffering as Christ did? 

Gardner

Last night in Bible study, we spent some time with Jesus' promise to the man on the cross that he would "be with me in paradise." Terry talked about the word "paradise."  The word came from an Old Iranian word that meant "walled enclosure" and subsequently became to indicate the walled gardens of Persia.

So, you can see the link to the idea of the Garden of Eden - paradise.

She asked us to think of times in Jesus's life when gardens were mentioned.  The Garden of  Gethsemane was the first, obvious reference  but someone else mentioned the women in the garden with the tomb on Easter.  Think of Mary Magadelene outside the tomb entrance.  She sees Jesus and she mistakes him for the gardener.

For some reason my mind clicked onto that word. The gardener is the keeper of the garden. So, perhaps Mary's first assumption wasn't wrong. She encountered Jesus, who is the keeper of the garden - or the keeper of paradise.

I kind of like the image.

The Darkness

I read a portion of Adam Hamilton's book, Not a Silent Night, this morning.  The book is written to lead the reader through looking at the life of Christ through the eyes of Mary.  The chapter I'm reading right now is about the crucifixion - what would have been Mary's thoughts?

What caught my eye today is the connection between Christmas and crucifixion.  Adam writes that the first ornament his family hangs on their Christmas tree is a replica of a Roman spike that would have been used in a crucifixion.  They hang it close to the trunk of the tree; they know it is there, although visitors wouldn't notice it.

I wonder how it changes his family's experience of Christmas to have a spike hanging in their tree? How would it change yours and mine to remember the sacrifice and love offered by Christ?  Could being reminded of the "end of the story" be a way to step back from the gift giving and santas for even just a moment?

Christmas is joy and beauty, lights in the darkness and love on the air.  We don't really want it tainted by the sorrow and grief of Good Friday, do we?

I make cards, and one of the tricks in the art of card making is to include the shadows in the coloring, and to use a fine line black pen to darken the outlines.  These tricks make the colors pop and bring the art to life, instead of leaving it one dimensional.  Could the same idea be applied in this case?  Does remembering the grief and sorrow make the joy that much more purposeful, make the lights that much more brighter?  And does it clear away the clutter of the holiday so that we can see the Christ?

Are you satisfied?

Speaking of Joe (from a few posts ago), he shared a blog post on Facebook over the Easter Weekend.  It is written by Brain Zahnd (brianzahnd.com) and is a post called "How does 'Dying for our sins' work?"

We say that all the time - Christ died for our sins.  Our bible study has been exploring that topic, looking at different theories of atonement each week as part of the "24 Hours that changed the World" (Adam Hamilton) series.

Zahnd calls some of those theories abhorrent, and I must agree.  We sometimes portray the Father as needing a sacrifice to be placated, or as a god who requires a quid pro quo to "gain the necessary capital to forgive sinners."  Those kind of theories don't fit the image of God that I have  from scripture.

He goes on to say that "before anything else, it (the crucifixion) is a catastrophe.  He echoes passages from the book of Acts to support that statement.

The Bible is clear, God did not kill Jesus.  Jesus was offered as a sacrifice in that the Father was willing to send his Son into our sinful system in order to expose it as utterly sinful and provide us with another way.

The crucifixion is "about the revelation of a merciful God."  When Jesus asks God to forgive those who have done this, he is not asking for something he doesn't expect.  He knows the heart of his Father, and this is not contrary to it.

Always remember, that in the acts and words of Christ, we see revealed the very nature of God.

Go read the post - it's really good.

And one more Julian of Norwich quote:

And this was shown to me when he said:  Are you well satisfied?  And by what Christ next said:  If you are satisfied, I am satisfied, he made me understand that it was as if he had said, "this is joy and delight enough for me, and I ask nothing else for my labor but that I may satisfy you.  Generously and completely was this revealed to me."

Are you satisfied?  Do you understand?  Do you get it?  That Christ (and God, as revealed by Christ) died so that you would come to understand that God loves you.  To quote Zahnd, "We are seeing the lengths to which a God of love will go in forgiving sin."

Amazing Love

One more Julian of Norwich quote (I think):

And in these words: If I (Jesus) could suffer more, I would suffer more, I saw truly that if he could die as often as once for every man is to be saved, as he did once for all men, love would never let him rest until he had done it.  And when he had done it, he would count it all as nothing for love, for everything seems only little to him in comparison with his love.  

Do you hear in that Christ's love for you?  If convincing you of God's love meant that he could die for you - just for you - he would do it out of love.  The suffering seems little to Christ in comparison to the love.

Amazing love, how can it be

That you my king would die for me?

Witness to Love

Julian of Norwich goes on to say:

I said this because I did not want to look up, for I would rather have remained in that pain until Judgment Day that have come to heaven any other way than by him.  

This is a statement Julian makes in response to what she is witnessing - the love for her expressed by God through his death on a cross.  She knows that this is her way to heaven, and she is so grateful for the action, so immersed in love for God, and so loyal to his suffering, that no other way to heaven will do.  It will be this way.

That doesn't say it's the only way - it's not an exclusionary statement.  It's a statement of gratitude and love.

And I imagine she knows what she is saying when she says it. Jesus isn't sitting poolside enjoying a vacation.  He is suffering, dying.  She sees the death, in great detail, and in this writing, tells us about it.  She knows that this way - this way with Christ - is one of suffering.

She is suffering with him as he dies.  Who do we suffer with, because we love them so much?  Who does God call us to suffer with, for the sake of God's love for that person?  How will you follow Christ to heaven? Will you follow him through suffering for others?

(Don't hear that as a call to martyred pain.  It's a call to make love for others so strong that you won't walk away from their suffering.)

Loving God

Continuing from yesterday, I said that it is necessary to look upon the crucifixion to see the pain of Christ in death so that we will come to understand the love that Christ has for us.

Julian of Norwich goes on to say:

But there is no greater physical pain that this; how could I suffer greater pain than to see him who is all my life, all my bliss and all my joy suffer?  Here I felt truly that I loved Christ so much more than myself that I thought it would have been a great comfort to me if my body had died.

Isn't that the opposite of what I said at first?  And can it be that it is ALSO necessary to look at the crucifixion to come to understand our love of Christ?

Will we come to realize when we see how much Christ suffered out of his love for us that we truly and deeply and with all of our being, love God?

Love and Suffering

Last week, when I was preparing to teach a bible study lesson on the crucifixion, I posted on Facebook that I would rather teach a lesson on the Nativity.  "That's part of the point, isn't it, though, that crucifixion is too horrible to contemplate."

When our Associate Pastor, Joe, read that, he suggested a reading out of Julian of Norwich, and last night he brought the book with him to church and loaned it to me.  It is in the Short Text of Showings - Chapters x, xi and xii.

She is speaking of watching Christ's death on the cross, and says:

This long torment seemed to me as if he had been dead for a week and had still gone on suffering pain, and it seemed to me as if the greatest and last pain of his Passion was when his flesh dried up.

That's just a piece of a paragraph describing the pain that she saw in Christ during her vision of his death.

One of the things I learned as I prepared for the Crucifixion lesson is that we should open our eyes and hearts to the suffering and death of Christ, for in it, we see the extent to which he would go.  In his dying and death, we see love personified for us.  In this we see the nature of God.

Interruptions

In the devotional I read this morning, Adam Hamilton points to Simon of Cyrene as an example of a person whose life was forever changed by an interruption.  He was an unconnected bystander, watching a criminal walking to his execution when a Roman soldier grabbed him by chance, and forced him to carry the crossbeam of Christ's cross.  He became a follower of Christ, well known enough by the church in Rome to be recognized in Mark's gospel by name.

I'm grateful there are people who make time in their lives for interruptions.  I am very often an interrupter.  I often walk up to the people in our office and start asking them a question or sharing information that I have.  I'm grateful they listen, and I hope I am open to them doing the same.  I think it changes us from people working together into a team.

Being open to interruptions is harder to do than being the interrupter.  I especially notice this when I am very busy.  I'm serving as the media/tech person on an upcoming Walk to Emmaus.  As I'm rushing around during a team meeting, trying to make sure everything I need to get done gets done, I am often interrupted.  Other team members need to ask me a question or give me a file.  I want to say, "Wait a while; I need to get this done," but I don't.  I intentionally try to say to myself, "Listen.  Focus.  This is the ministry you are doing."  I find doing this puts the task I was trying to get done into the background and calms me enough from my frantic pace to listen.  I look at the person, listen to their words, and make them the important item for the moment.  I think that's one of the hardest parts of doing the tech job on the walk - shoving aside the technology to focus on the person.  I don't know i what I am doing is transformational to anyone else, but it is to me and the job I am doing.

Interruptions.  It's ministry.  Do you find it so, too?

(By the way, I'm hotel internet for a couple of days.  I'm not sure if I can upload images with any speed or not)

Convincing Grace

A pastor friend of mine told me the theme for his latest sermon was this:  God didn't send Jesus to die on a cross as a way to prove to God that God loves us; he did it to prove to us that God loves us.

Think about that for a moment.

There are times when we point to the death of Christ on the cross and consider it to be Christ taking on punishment for our sins in answer to a demand from God that the punishment be given.  Maybe there is a part of the crucifixion that answers this need, but I think there is more.

Who needs convincing that we are loved by God?  We do.  Who has God been following with his previenent grace for AGES?  We are.  Perhaps part of the reason for the crucifixion was to demonstrate to us, in a way that could not be ignored, how much we are loved by our creator.

God died for you.  For me.  How much more convincing do we need?

Vulnerability

Our church e-publishes devotionals all year long.  During Advent and Lent, the devotionals are sent out daily.  The most recent one my husband wrote was about holding tightly onto something.  You can read it here.

Here is a line from the devotional:

What things in our lives are we holding to so tightly that we are unwilling to let go? Afraid to let go.

About the time his devotional was sent out to our devotional group, we talked in staff meeting about a woman who was exploring what it would feel like to assume a position of crucifixion -- not actual crucifixion, of course, but arms spread wide.  She lay in a field, her arms outstretched.  The only word she could use to describe it was "vulnerable."  She felt vulnerable.

It seems to me that someone, like Christ, in the position of a cross is vulnerable.  He could hang onto nothing.  He couldn't even hold onto his life. 

Love like that makes you vulnerable.

Scars

I been listening to an album by Adele.  My older son introduced me to her (not literally) and especially to the song Rolling in the Deep.

As I was listening to the song yesterday, the lyrics struck me, speaking to me of a meaning that isn't in the lyrics themselves.

The scars of your love,

They leave me breathless

Imagine for a moment, Thomas sitting, remembering his encounter with the risen Christ.  Couldn't Thomas have said that? Go read the two lines again, with Thomas and his encounter in your mind.

I feel a poem coming along -- for another time, when I'm not so tired.

Barabbas

In Sunday school last Sunday, we talked about the two final trials of Jesus, including Pilate standing before the crowd, offering to free Jesus or Barabbas.

Now it was the governor's custom at the Feast to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Barabbas. So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, "Which one do you want me to release to you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" For he knew it was out of envy that they had handed Jesus over to him.

"Which of the two do you want me to release to you?" asked the governor. "Barabbas," they answered.

"What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called Christ?" Pilate asked. They all answered, "Crucify him!" (Matthew 27:15-18, 21-22)

I have never before noticed the construction of Barabbas' name before. Bar (son of) Abba (Father). His name is "son of a father." One reference JtM quoted as he taught Sunday school said this is something like calling him John Doe.

Why have I never noticed that before? Barabbas. Son of a Father.

I puts a whole new spin on this scene. Jesus willing gives up his life, and as a result, a sinner -- a criminal -- a murderer -- was set free. He suffers the result of sin, and dies. Barabbas is any person -- you or me -- and he receives his freedom when Jesus steps up, and gives his life.

Known and Loved

Someone said the other day, in a devotional, if I could imagine dying for someone I loved. The person readily admitted that such an option was possible. The answer to that question would change to "no" if the person to be saved was unknown to her.

She compared that to the death of Christ, dying for all of us.

True. I think there is a difference, though. Christ didn't die for someone he didn't know. He died for you and me and all of us. The amazing, wonderful part of our faith is that we are so very much loved that God would choose to die for you. For me. For each of us.

Imagine that. You are so well known and loved by Jesus that he died for you, and would have died only for you. You are not a stranger to him. You are beloved.

Passion

I was reading from Henri Nouwen's book, Show me the Way, this morning. He says that from the moment Jesus is handed over in the garden until his death, there has been a change in his life -- a turning point. No longer is Jesus' life one of action, but is instead one of being acted upon.

This moment when Jesus is handed over to those who do with him as they please is a turning point in Jesus' ministry. It is turning from action to passion. after years of teaching, preaching, healing and moving to wherever he wanted to go, Jesus is handed over to the caprices of his enemies. Things are now no longer done by him, but to him.

Nouwen says that Jesus fulfills his mission not by what he does, but by what is done to him.

I was interested in the word that Nouwen uses. He says that this is a turning point from action to passion. I've never thought of passion in that sense of the word. I've always considered passion to be enthusiasm or zeal. I never knew it had another definition -- "the state or capacity of being acted on by external agents or forces."

Is there an overlap of those definitions? Is there enthusiasm and zeal in being passive? Can we be passionately passive?

Nouwen says that most of us will fulfill our mission through passion -- through what is done to us. We don't like it; we would rather deny it, but Nouwen says that it is true.

I think that perhaps the way in which we live during passion is a decision -- it is a way in which we act. It is a choice that we make. Jesus was acted upon during his passion, no doubt, but he made choices in how he would respond. We also make those active choices. Perhaps, in some ways, it is in that part of passion that we fulfill our mission.

For Them

John 8:1-11, Mark 10:17-22
Matthew 27:45-50, John 19:28-30

The two of them stood
At the foot of the cross
Watching the man named Jesus
Die.
The clouds in the sky
Were boiling, like black oil.
The world cried out in protest.
And yet the man hung on the tree,
Nailed to the wood.

She stood, and watched and remembered.
The day was branded into her memory
The day when she had met Jesus.
The “wise ones’ had stolen her from her home,
After they caught her in adultery,
Caught her in her sin.
She had been so ashamed.
Lost.

“My God, my God,
Why have you forsaken me?”

His words from the cross pierced her heart,
And stole her breath.
She had felt forsaken, abandoned.
Then she had stood, head bowed,
In front of this man.
He had searched her,
And knew her.
He had saved her.

Without him, she would have been stoned.
Suffered justice for her sins.
Instead, she had been transformed
By his love.
And had returned home,
New.

He stood, watched and remembered.
He thought again,
As he had so many times,
Of the time he had spoken to the man.
“What must I do to have eternal life?”

“I thirst”

The words of the one dying
Echoed his life.
He had thirsted,
For everything,
And his yearning had never been quenched.
He had always wanted more.
More treasure, more money.
Nothing else had mattered.
Certainly not the request of this man.
Not even the young wife who stood beside him now.
None of it had been important.

Until that day,
When he had walked away,
The words of the savior
Echoing through his mind.
“Then come, follow me.”
When he reached home,
He told his plan to his wife,
And together, they had made a new life.

Without this man on the cross,
He would never have been alive.
He would never had found what he
Had sought everyday of his life.
Treasure beyond imagining,
A gift of grace,
Given to him when he let go.
When he surrendered all.
He had been transformed.
Saved.
Recreated.

“It is finished.”

Their savior died,
And their hearts broke.
And somehow they knew
That it had all been done for them.

Images: From the stained glass in our sanctuary