Only a weak Christ will do
The soldiers took Jesus inside to the courtyard of the governor’s palace and called together the rest of the company. They put a purple robe on Jesus, made a crown out of thorny branches, and put it on his head. Then they began to salute him: ‘Long live the King of the Jews!’ They beat him over the head with a stick, spat on him, fell on their knees, and bowed down to him. When they had finished making fun of him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes back on him. Then they led him out to crucify him. (verses 16-20)
Read Mark 15:12-21
At the pinnacle of Jesus’ life and ministry we find him weak, powerless, and, it appears, thoroughly out of control. At the blows and mocking and ridicule of his torturers he is silent. And, naturally enough, we are filled with compassion. We are aroused and troubled in regard to the tragic, suffering, silent Christ. But he does not want our pity. He does not want our tears: ‘Do not cry for me’ (Luke 23:28).
The offence of this scene is not the suffering. The offence is not the injustice. Both suffering and injustice are the common lot of broken humanity. The offence is that this is the way it had to be. The offence is that God himself had determined that it was necessary for the Messiah, the King of the Jews, the Saviour of the world, to suffer in this way. The offence is that only a weak Christ will do.
In your weakness, Lord, you enter my weakness. In Your silent suffering you enter the silent darkness of my heart. Lead me through your passion to the light of the empty tomb. Amen.
by Adam Cooper, in ‘New Strength for each Day’ (LCA, Openbook, 1998)
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