C I P R I A N I

Like most people raised Catholic, I’ve been told at various confusing times throughout my life to consult the Bible for answers. This advice is often unsolicited.

Not long ago I was walking with my son who was probably fourteen months old at the time and we were stopped by a very nice, elderly, Jewish woman. I didn’t know her. She lived in the neighborhood and was charmed by my son (as most women elderly, Jewish, or otherwise are). We spoke about a great many things, this woman and I, and over the course of just a few minutes, somehow the subject of my being raised Catholic came up. I’m not sure how she got to the question “are you Jewish?” or her suggestion that I should consult the Bible for answers in the midst of our conversation.

Oddly enough though, I was actually stumped on a small matter at the time. I’m constantly stumped on matters small and large. I wasn’t angry, despondent, or in mourning. It was actually a very trivial thing I won’t go into here actually, but nevertheless I took her advice, which was to go home, pick up the Bible, and flip to a random page. While I was hoping for Divine Inspiration, I think I landed somewhere in Chronicles and, being raised Catholic, simply blamed myself for the subsequent lack of any miraculous inspiration.

As a younger man than this woman, perhaps more cynical and certainly not as wise, I’ve found as many questions as answers in the pages of that ancient text. Things are far more simpler when you’re very young, but as evidenced by my son’s somewhat frequent tears, terrifying confusion surrounds us upon birth and we just deal with it differently on our way to the tomb.

This year on “Good Friday” (which commemorates the crucifixion of Jesus Christ through the Stations of the Cross), something dawned on me.

The Stations of the Cross, as defined by the dictionary, are “a series of fourteen pictures or carvings representing successive incidents during Jesus’s progress from his condemnation by Pilate to his crucifixion and burial, before which devotions are performed in some churches.”  

The “incident” that struck me this year, for whatever reason, is the “fifth” Station:

“Simon Helps Jesus Carry the Cross.”

The Bible’s New Testament tells us that Jesus’s mission was to die for our sins. These fourteen incidents are, in fact, the climax of this story. The Main Event. The World Series. If he does not succeed in getting crucified, he has failed.

The New Testament, of course, also tells us that Jesus is no less than the Son of God and while the Spirit of God may have sustained Jesus throughout his journey to Calvary, it is very important to recognize that there is not a single specific incident in any of the fourteen stations where God comes to Jesus’s aid.

When Jesus fell, as he did three times, while he may have been filled with the inspiration of God to get back up, God did not swoop down and physically pick Jesus off the ground. He had to do that himself.

The Bible tells us that when Jesus was baptized, the sky opened up and a voice said “This is my Son with whom I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3:17)

Now think about this. From a literary narrative stand point, in terms of Jesus’s mission, this is kind of like God saying “That’s my Boy!” when Jesus signs up for t-ball, but isn’t even at the game when he’s finally pitching in the World Series.

Is this, in fact, a microcosm of the entire Bible itself? God was walking around the Garden of Eden, speaking and interacting with Man throughout the Old Testament, but he became more peripheral as time went on.

In the beginning of Jesus’s story, we hear God’s voice, but by the time the crucifixion finally arrives, Jesus is crying out on the cross asking why he’s been abandoned.

I don’t know about you, but I look upon my childhood as a much more innocent time and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself putting childish things away.

So where do we find solace?

God is not mentioned as crying, but rather it was the Women that Jesus calmed when they were weeping. And it was not God who wiped Jesus’s bloody face, but rather Veronica. And, of course, when Jesus could no longer carry the cross on his own, it was Simon who came to his aid.

Life is hard. And confusing. And just as Jesus found inspiration by something greater and more elusive than himself, we are also told that He is that elusive force.

Again from Wikipedia (modern day’s Scripture):

The Christian doctrine of the Trinity defines God as three consubstantial persons…the Father, the Son (Jesus), and the Holy Spirit.

As with most articles of faith, debate is inevitable. What is certain is that so much is uncertain.

So we can cry out to a hallowed Father, but if we are indeed humble, we cannot truly claim to really know much of anything, let alone His name. And perhaps that prayer to high Heaven finds its echo in our own meek, yet sturdy hearts.

For some, that spirit in the sky may sustain, but for our many human squabbles, my only fervent belief is to not be so quick to judge. I learned that somewhere.

While we are here, we must all struggle in the dirt and blood of earth together. Perhaps if we can realize how small and fragile each one of us really are, we will discover that, like Simon and Veronica and the Weeping Women, that it is our neighbors and our enemies that we are bound to. And that here on this tiny planet in this incomprehensibly large universe, we are all human, whether from stardust or the Grace of God or a mixture of the two. And maybe while we are here we can try to find solace in the comfort and aid of our fellow man.