What all of that darkness and light imagery points to is this: Jesus reveals God to believers and to the world in a unique, definitive way. Jesus is the spiritual light that helps us to see clearly who God is and who we are.
Everything Jesus does is meant to show something. No vain displays of power, no ad-hoc interactions with nothing behind them. Each miracle is a sign. Pointing to what?
How many songs, poems, books, and works of art are devoted to love, inspired by it’s ecstatic heights and haunted by its absence? It’s a fundamental human need to give and receive it, but why are we so bad at it? The author bell hooks wrote: “Everywhere we learn that love is important, yet we are bombarded by its failure.”
When we put ourselves at the center, we tend to view other creatures and the land as existing for our benefit alone… We’d be here way past lunch today if we catalogued all the ways our inherent belief that we are the only objects of the Shepherd’s love and care plays out.
Christ’s body has taken on the ravages of human violence for all to see, touch, and ponder, not to avoid or turn away from. And so the wounds remain.
The first Palm Sunday was a political demonstration—not partisan—but political, as in dealing with the polis, or the community… In those two marches, Pilate’s and Jesus’, there was a stark contrast between the love of power and the power of love.
This week’s question was emailed in: “Dear Bart, I would be very interested in hearing an informed discussion of Miracles and their place in current Jewish/Christian practice… a. What purpose did miracles serve for authors of the bible? b. Does the Christian Faith require belief in miracles?