Violence

By Pat Russell

This Lenten season has been filled with violence. The violence of Ukraine has been overwhelming to watch on the news. I have closed my eyes or turned my head often. I have gone to sleep with tears oozing out of my eyes. I wake up in the night and see images of suffering.The reality is that this is not new and was going on in other parts of the world before Ukraine. What we will do to one another is unbelievable! My heart cries out, “Stop, Stop, Stop! For Christ’s sake, STOP!”

During Lent, I have been spending time in the practice of “visio divina” which means I gaze upon a painting and meditate on what the Lord says to me through it. Painting the Word: Christian Pictures and their Meanings, by John Drury, has been my text. This morning I gazed upon Ruben’s The Coup de Lance. It was created for an altarpiece in Antwerp. It is based on this portion of Scripture from the Gospel of John 19:31-34…

Since it was the day of Preparation the Jews did not want the bodies left on the cross during the sabbath, especially because that sabbath was a day of great solemnity.  So, they asked Pilate to have the legs of the crucified men broken and the bodies removed. Then the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and the other who had been crucified with him. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out.

In the past, I have tended to skim over the violence of the crucifixion, the violence of Jesus’ trials including what the soldiers did to him, but this year these scenes have stood out to me. They say to me, “God is no stranger to violence. He has experienced the core of humanity’s cruelty to humanity. Not only does he know betrayal and denial, but he knows torture and a slow, painful death. And even after death, he experiences bodily desecration.”

Drury says, “Rubens grasps John’s collision of brute force and redemptive self-offering and makes it visible. Christ’s body hangs limp and vulnerable. The mounted soldier is not giving it the usual prod which an unimaginative reading of the text would allow. Ruben’s poetic energy makes him rise from his saddle and thrust with the same concentrated fury as a hunter spearing a lion in his earlier sketch, A Lion Hunt.”

John, the Gospel author, writes that, “…at once blood and water came out.”  I remember how I reacted to this scene in the movie “Jesus.”  I saw the gushing of these bodily fluids over those below the cross and I wept. Even in death, our Lord pours out his very bodily fluids for us – the waters of his baptism that anointed his commitment to us, his blood of the new covenant “poured out for you.”
 
Our Lord was not spared the violence in this world. He does not stand apart and observe all that is going on, turning his eyes away because it is an insult to his senses. I don’t know what it looks like, but I believe that by the Holy Spirit, our Lord is present in all suffering. That does not make it easier or less horrible. I cannot draw any violence-easing conclusions in these days. I only know that the words “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age,” have a depth of truth I only partially grasp. And so, I accompany Him today as He heads into death, knowing He is accompanying the world in all its suffering.

Jesus, I would not turn my eyes away from suffering, but I do not want to watch in some obscene fascination. I want to see with Your eyes and yes, lower my eyes in prayer for those who are suffering immeasurably. When I look, I want to see You on the cross in all Your agony with them beside You; I want to hear You say, "Today, you will be with me in Paradise." Give me Your courage to be with the suffering, knowing all is not lost in You.