Guilty, or not guilty

Did I hear right, Wednesday morning, on the Today programme? A Republican congresswoman, Marjorie Taylor Greene, outside the New York courtroom to which Donald Trump, under arrest, had been taken to face 34 felony criminal charges said, "Well, he's in good company," she said, citing Nelson Mandela and Jesus Christ as others who'd been arrested. I see that her modus operandi is to court controversy and follow conspiracy theories; so maybe the comment wasn't entirely out of character. Yet even so, during Holy Week when Christians remember Jesus' crucifixion, it was an extraordinary parallel. 

She could have used other characters from the trial of Jesus such as ... Barabbas ("Mark and Luke further refer to Barabbas as one involved in a στάσις (stasis, riot)" Wikipedia), or the two criminals or rebels hanged on either side of Jesus, one of whom correctly told the other, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Whatever else can be said of Donald Trump or Boris Johnson facing tribunals - or indeed any of us in the final analysis - it's not that "we have done nothing wrong". Which is, mysteriously, theologians tell us, the point of the crucifixion. He has done nothing wrong, and is crucified so that we, who have all gone wrong, may escape the divine gallows and go free - or if not, at least be offered the prospect of paradise. 

Night in Garden Tomb, Jerusalem

I'm not sure I agree with those theologians, superficially attractive though that theory is. I prefer to think that the life and death of Christ who is the human face of God demonstrate that no part of human experience is outside God's own comprehension and empathy, not even the most acute torture and the worst dying. As that most popular of Hebrew psalms puts it, "Even though I walk through the darkest valley (or valley of the shadow of death) I fear no evil; for you are with me...."

As Archbishop Justin Welby wrote on his Facebook page today (Saturday):

"Holy Saturday is a day of silence. Profound, deathly silence.

It is the day after the worst possible thing has happened, and now there is only living with the consequences.

All of us have our own Holy Saturday moments that mark our lives. Perhaps, like Mary, we have seen a loved one die and we live with that empty space. Perhaps, like Peter, we have forever lost a chance to apologise for a mistake and repair a relationship. Perhaps, like Judas, we have done something very wrong and the consequences have been disastrous.

It isn’t possible to control the outcome of such moments. We can wait and see what happens. We can distract ourselves, and try and ignore the pain we feel. We can carry on with our normal lives, tinged with lost hope, fear and uncertainty. This is what the disciples must have faced the sabbath day after Jesus’ death. All is lost. For with Jesus so much else has died.

They had no idea the resurrection was coming, no clue that their sorrow would be transformed to joy.

Holy Saturday is a day like no other. A day of holding the pain and failure and uncertainty. A new dawn is coming. The promise is true that all will be well.

But today, on this day, as we remember Jesus lying in the grave we sit in silence together with the disciples, weighing the absence and praying for a miracle that will transform our lives and our world."

And although we don't yet see the miracle, we do discover that even death is not outside God's experience and we therefore have hope.