Jesus is Stripped of His Clothing: Good Friday Reflection on Racism

As a child, he was taught the history of his people and their ongoing relationship with the living God...a people created and loved by the one God...a people whose faith endured as they struggled in captivity, in exile, in slavery, in oppression; the same faith that inspired them to hope for a new day.

Living in an occupied land without privilege, he embraced his God-given dignity though never denying others theirs. In fact, he empowered others to do the same.

Yet, there he stood in his truth before this cross assembled by others - stripped of his dignity, standing in his nakedness, knowing the assault of lies, the weight of shackles, the sting of scourging, the absence of respect, the pangs of exhaustion, the judgment of unjust systems, the apathy of others, the violence of fear.

In spite of his compassionate teaching, centuries later, other peoples stood in their truth before crosses assembled and maintained by others - stripped of their dignity, standing in their nakedness as they faced the cross of racism.

For too many generations, peoples have known the assault of lies, the weight of shackles, the sting of scourging, the absence of respect, the pangs of exhaustion, the judgment of unjust systems, the apathy of others, the violence of fear - in the midst of it all, mindful of God's love for them.

Grateful for the progress made, truth compels us to acknowledge that racism is neither a relic from history, nor a single cross. Instead, our nation's original sin is a complex web of crosses deeply entrenched in our landscape.

Dismantling this web is an ongoing ministry dependent on moving beyond our apathy and divisions to work together in truth so that we may confront the unjust systems and fear that racism perpetuates. When we, who are people of goodwill, stand together in truth, no man or woman is stripped of dignity.


(Written for the 32nd Annual Good Friday Pilgrimage in Atlanta)

Good Friday Reflection (Triduum 1/3)

My God, what happened? I cry out to you from the deepest recesses of my soul. My heart and my mind are lost in a fierce sea of confusion and despair. Where are you, my God? I need to know that you hear me - even in the midst of this chaos. I no longer feel the ground beneath my feet, nor do I see the sky above me. Yeshua was my ground, my sky, my all.

What can be done when a blossom has been snapped from the branch before it fully opens? Can the breaking be undone? What happens to the hope and awe it inspired? Is it not like bread that is never baked, or a marriage that is not consummated?

If only you had merely turned your back to us. Then, I would spend the remainder of my days begging for your mercy and forgiveness. From sunrise to sunset, I would sing your praises. Now, there is no song within me - not even for tonight's Sabbath. There is only an abyss of sorrow. It is an abyss as cold and dark as the tomb in which we placed him.

The Teacher had spoken of his death, but certainly he did not mean in this manner. What is more degrading than this? I have known others who have been crucified, but this one is beyond my weak ability to grasp. Of what was there to convict Yeshua? Has honoring your Law become a cause for execution?

--A follower of Yeshua