Not About the Suffering?

During his radio broadcast on Friday, Alistair Begg (love him) brought up the fact that the gospel accounts of Jesus’ death don’t talk about the physical suffering he endured. And isn’t that interesting, folks?

I mean, they mention that he was flogged, of course. They mention the crown of thorns and being struck on the head with a staff while being mocked. They mention that he was thirsty. But the final act of execution is generally tossed off with a simple unmodified clause: “They crucified him.”

We can probably assume that the first readers of the accounts were familiar enough with what was involved in these heinous acts that detailed description was not necessary. However, in our times, we seem to obsess a bit about the physical suffering. I blogged last year about watching The Passion of the Christ. There we see the blood and gore and ripped skin and piercing nails and agonizing facial expressions in all their glory.

It almost seems like we need the gory description these days. At least we think we do – those of us who grew up casually singing songs every Sunday morning about the nail-scarred hands and the blood shed for me. We’re inured to the concept; we need a wake-up call about the horrors that actually happened there. We need to feel something about it.

And yet Alistair was making a big point of the fact that the physical suffering wasn’t the point. And well, no, of course it wasn’t. In fact, when you really look at it, there are a lot of odd things the gospel writers DO intentionally mention in their accounts of the crucifixion that aren't related much at all to the blood and pain.

The whole thing about the guards splitting up his clothes and casting lots over his undergarment. Yes, I realize that this detail was a fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy . . . but still: why did we need to know about this? Why was such a piddly, inconsequential event even worth being foretold?

His being offered wine mixed with myrrh and refusing it. Yes, I’ve heard reasons offered for why he refused it (the myrrh would dull his senses and make the pain easier to bear, but he wanted to go through the experience with a clear mind). That’s all well and good . . . but why do we need to know about that at all? Why did the storytellers mention that detail but not the far more powerful image of nails being driven through his wrists?

The sign posted above him that said “The King of the Jews” was written in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek. Again, I understand that there were valid reasons for the three translations. But I’m not sure why that specifically needed to be pointed out to the original readers, and I certainly don’t understand the reason for me needing to know about it today, particularly in place of stuff that would seem to be more powerful and pertinent.

The gospel writers clearly had a different purpose than our current storytellers and artists. They were not seeking to evoke emotion – whereas emotion seems to be a primary goal in our modern art and literature. We need to feel the emotion . . . as if feeling strongly about it suddenly makes it matter.

So, if I've already accepted the truth of these accounts and committed my life as a result, just what is the purpose of the retelling every spring? If it's not about evoking emotion, what exactly should it be evoking within me as I read? 

That seems like a really dumb question. And yet here I am, asking it.

I think my Holy Week will be a bit different this year. I’m making a commitment (right here, so y’all can hold me accountable) that I’m going to read the gospel accounts of Christ’s death every day, especially all those seemingly inconsequential details, and see what God chooses to do with them in me – beyond sorrow over his suffering. You’re welcome to join me and share what he does in you.