The mockery of Christ, fresco in the holy monastery of Metamorfosis, Meteora (from here)
Public shaming is a commonplace in our culture. Public stocks and tar-and-feathering have disappeared, but shaming itself is as up-to-date as the internet itself. I well imagine that some view the use of ridicule and derision as an inherent part of public life. Those who enjoy the accolades of crowds must be prepared to endure their opprobrium. Of course, for those who live anonymous lives, such public shaming is about other people. The quiet sense (and sometimes not so quiet) that “they had it coming to them” is the strange pleasure of envy, a subset of shame. These are among the darkest parts of our public life.
Of course, there is nothing new about shame and envy. That our digital world is infected with them is nothing more than a manifestation of an ancient social contagion. It was envy that drove Cain to kill his brother. It continues to drive murders to this day.
It is deeply significant that the gospel account of Christ’s Passion includes ample descriptions of the shame and envy that permeated that event. Indeed, St. Mark’s gospel tells us that Christ perceived that it was “out of envy that the chief priests had delivered Him up” (Mark 15:10). I have noticed, across the years, that the texts for the services of Holy Week make far more mention of shame and envy (the “mocking and the spitting”) than they do of the specific suffering of the crucifixion itself. Crucifixion is not about the pain (the Romans had far more painful options at their employ). Crucifixion is specifically about the shame – it was considered the lowest form of execution – particularly suited for slaves.
St. Paul said, “I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless, I live…” Our attention is drawn to the Cross and its nails. However, if crucifixion is primarily an act of public shaming, then we have far more literal opportunities to be crucified with Christ. The mocking and the spitting, if only in their lesser forms, are likely common to us all.
Of course, there’s a very quiet crucifixion of shame endured by many: the torturous voices that haunt our lives, whispering in the dark. The insidious power of such shame makes us want to hide (hiding is in the very nature of shame). It attacks more than our actions – it goes for our very self.
We hear this in the mocking words hurled at Christ: “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross…” A similar taunt was spoken by the devil in the temptations in the wilderness. “If you…”
The taunts within us take on their own form – but are almost always aimed at “who we are,” or “what kind” of person we imagine ourselves to be. They are likely the deepest source of pain in our lives.
If it is true that we are “crucified with Christ,” then it is also true that Christ is crucified “with us.” The mocking and the spitting that we undergo in our own minds and lives is something that Christ has made His own. We are not alone. This is at the very heart of God’s love. In my pastoral experience through the years, I see that we doubt the love of God. We are unworthy (of course). We fail to love Him in return (of course). There is something within us, I think, that makes us give greater weight to the words and thoughts of shame than we do to the assurance of God’s love.
Our brains are wired for protection (for which we give thanks). However, that same wiring tends to give greater emphasis to dangers and warnings than to joy and celebration. Christ knows this very aspect of our being:
“Inasmuch then as the children have partaken of flesh and blood, He Himself likewise shared in the same, that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and release those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.”(Heb. 2:14–15)
I am aware of this, particularly, in the sacrament of confession, when the epitrahelion (stole) of the priest is placed over my head and I hear the soothing words that assure me of God’s forgiveness:
…May that same God forgive you all things, through me a sinner, both in this present world, and in that which is to come, and set you uncondemned before His dread Judgment Seat. And now, having no further care for the sins which you have declared, depart in peace.
I think of that space beneath the epitrahelion as the “secret place of the Most High.”
St. Paul wrote:
The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together. (Rom. 8:17)
I suspect we often externalize this verse and presume that it refers only to those who endure physical torture. However, its focus is found in the phrase, “with Him.” We unite our sufferings (even our self-inflicted mental tortures) with Him with as small a phrase as, “Lord, have mercy!” I have also been taught to pray, “O God, comfort me!”
In these things, with Christ, we are “more than conquerors.”
Let us die with Christ in the Jerusalem of our minds, that we may reign with Him in the New Jerusalem of His Kingdom!
