Passion Voices: Mary

What? 

Who moved the stone? What's going on here?

It's not enough, I suppose, that we watched him suffer and die. It's not enough that every nail was pounded into my heart, that every lash of the whip tore my soul apart.

Now they've taken his body too!

What kind of low-life lunatic would do such a thing? We have nothing left except the comfort of giving him a proper burial. There was no time on Friday. They barely got him to the tomb before Sabbath began. 

And what a strange and silent Sabbath it was. Yesterday I could feel nothing at all. Not the warmth of the sun, not even the pain of my grief. Not the sweet Spirit of God which has sustained me since the day I met him. 

The world went on as always, as if nothing had happened. And even God was silent.

Don't you understand? He was everything to me. Everything. He's the only one who ever looked at me as if I were a real person. Not a harlot. Not an outcast. But as if I were a daughter of the Most High.

I hate the silence.  Never to hear his wonderful stories. Never to hear his prayers. Never to hear the sound of my name on his lips--the sweetest sound I ever heard. The only voice I want to hear is the one I can never hear again.

Here's the gardener. I'll ask him if he knows anything. Maybe he saw something. Maybe he knows who did this. How did they move the stone? Where is my Lord? Where is my. . .

Jesus?

Photo Credits:
    Entombment of Christ, by  anonymous Russian icon painter

    Easter Morning, painting by Johann Friedrick Overbeck

Passion Voices: Judas

I don't want it! Not any of it! I gave it back. I threw it into the temple, but it just keeps rattling and rolling and clang-clang-clanging on the tiles. Please make it stop!

A payment of thirty silver coins. But I don't want it.

I gave it back! 

Caiaphas and his cronies were only too anxious to pay me. All I had to do was to lead them to Jesus, just let them know which one he was. Easy money.

I think it started with that crazy woman. When we were eating at Simon's house, this woman comes right up to the table and puts ointment on his feet. Then she rubs it in with her hair. What a spectacle and what a waste! A year's wages. She could have fed the poor! She could have put it in our treasury, and I could have put it to some good use.

So tonight at the Seder, he gets down on his hands and knees and washes our feet. Our dirty, smelly feet! Is that any way for a king to act? He has the nerve to say that one of us will betray him. I think he's looking right at me. But when he dips the bread in the wine and hands it to me, I know what I have to do. I just suddenly know. It's like I've always known. I ran out of there in a hurry. I had to get some air.

"Seek ye first the kingdom of God," he was so fond of saying. Talk, talk! "The kingdom of God is like a seed. It's like a pearl." Talk, talk, talk! "It's like a lump of yeast." Who cares about these cute little stories?

When we went marching into Jerusalem with shouts and waving palm branches, I thought this is it! This is when he's going to quit talking and start doing. I thought he would drive out the oppressors right then and there. I couldn't wait to see their fat Roman rumps running for their lives, leaving behind all their valuables. Ka-ching, ka-ching! Spoils of war.

You have to understand, I put my faith in him. I thought he came to save us. I thought he would be king. But he disappointed me. He disappointed us all. But I didn't mean for this to happen. He doesn't deserve what they're doing to him. I deserve it--all of it!

Are those bells ringing? No, it's just that sound that won't stop. Coins just rolling and clanging like metal pots over and over again. Make it stop! I just want to go back and start this day over again. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Be quiet!

Oh, please, just make that noise stop. Make it stop!

Photo Credits:
    Denarius Serratus, by Wolfgang Meinhart

    The Kiss of Judas, anonymous painting of the 12th century
    Pottery, by Hartmann Linge
    Parable of Sower, by Sulfababy of en.wiki
    African palm, by Artimari
    Christ Pantacrator, by Vmenkov
    Judas hangs himself, by Jean Fouquet

Balder the Beautiful

         I heard a voice that cried,

       Balder the beautiful

       Is dead, dead.  

One day in childhood, C. S. Lewis was searching through his father's extensive library, and he stumbled across these words in a poem by Longfellow.

Although young Jack had no idea who this Balder might be, the words stirred something in him--"an extraordinary feeling, a notion of great cold expanses of northern sky"--according to The Inklings, by Humphrey Carpenter.

Balder (or Baldr), in Norse mythology, is the second son of Odin and brother of Thor and Vali. He had a twin brother named Hoor, who was blind. 

Balder is always described in "glowing" terms:

The second son of Odin is Baldur, and good things are to be said of him. He is best, and all praise him; he is so fair of feature, and so bright, that light shines from him.    

                     -- from the Prose Edda

Balder had a dream of his own death, and the dream frightened him. To make matters worse, his mother Frigg had the same dream. In an effort to protect her son, Frigg made every object in the realm swear never to harm Balder. Every object save one made this promise.

Stones promised. Trees promised. Daggers and weapons of every sort promised. Everything promised except for just one thing--the mistletoe. Did Frigg overlook this humble branch with pointed leaves, thinking it too small? Or was the mistletoe too young to swear an oath?

When the gods heard that everything had promised never to harm Balder, they made a new sport. They would toss things at Balder--both harmless and dangerous things--just to watch them all miss or fall away without hurting him.

But Loki, the mischief maker, heard about the dream and the promise Frigg had asked every object to make. He also heard about the mistletoe.

Loki was tired of everyone always singing the praises of Balder, and so he devised an evil plan. He fashioned a spear out of mistletoe and handed it to Balder's blind twin Hoor to toss at Balder. Some say that when the spear left Hoor's hand, Loki guided its path.

Alas, the enchanted arrow found its mark, and Balder the Beautiful fell dead. The sound of weeping was heard throughout Asgard.

Balder's body was ceremonially burned on his ship, Hringhorni--largest of all ships. As he was carried to the ship, Odin whispered something in his ear, but no-one knows what he said. Then Hyrrokin, a giantess, set the ship sailing on the open sea.

To punish Hoor for slaying Balder, Odin and Frigg conceived another son--a son who grew up in a single day and slayed Hoor.

Hel, keeper of the underworld, promised to release Balder back to earth if everyone dead and alive would weep for him. Everyone did--everyone except one giantess, believed to be Loki in disguise. Thus, Balder was forced to remain in the underworld until the day of Ragnarok, an apocalyptic time foretold when Balder and Hoor would be reunited and would rule the new world together.

As for Loki, after many more malicious, arrogant deeds, he comes to no good end, bound to a rock, beneath a poisonous snake that drips venom down on the prisoner. Loki writhes with such violence that the earth first experiences what we now call earthquakes.

Many comparisons have been made between Balder and Christ. Jesus, the bright and shining Son of God, was betrayed by the fallen angel Lucifer and put to death. And prophets tell of a time when Jesus will rule a new Heaven and a new earth, and Lucifer will be bound for a thousand years. Balder was "a dying god."

But there comparisons must end. For Jesus, unlike Balder, walked out of his tomb, very much alive--"that through death he might destroy him who had the power, that is, the devil."

I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death.      Rev. 1:18  KJV

The myth-makers told some great stories, and the story of Balder is one of them. But only one story can rightly claim to be "The Greatest Story Ever Told"--the true story of the Christ, the Risen Redeemer.

Photo Credits:

    "Odin's last words to Baldr," by W. G. Collingwood
     Iceland, by Roger McLassus
    "Each arrow overshot his head," by Elmer Boyd Smith
    Mistletoe berries, by Alexbrn
    Balder killed by Hoor and Loki, from an 18th century Icelandic manuscript
    "Odin's last words to Baldr," detail

    "The Punishment of Loki," by Louis Huard 

    The Empty Tomb, by Mary Kasting