The First Congregational Church of Sunderland was built in 1836.
The First Congregational Church of Sunderland was built in 1836. Credit: Staff File Photo/Paul Franz

(Each Saturday, a faith leader offers a personal perspective in this space. To become part of this series, email religion@recorder.com)

Einstein could not imagine how gravity worked at a distance since the objects were not in direct contact. How could the earth’s gravity tug on the moon some quarter of a million miles distant to keep it in orbit? This question led Einstein to postulate the curvature of space. The moon is in an orbital freefall around the earth because the mass of the earth changed the space around it.

In the Christian church, we are about halfway into the season of Lent. This is a 40-day period in which believers are encouraged to prepare themselves for the mystery and gravity of Jesus’ suffering and death. Part of this mystery is the question of why Jesus needed to endure such torture, but maybe “Why?” is the wrong question.

We humans are uncomfortable with uncertainty. Waiting for the other shoe to drop is sometimes more unnerving than when it does. In ancient Roman society, the cross was a scandal. For the first followers of Jesus, it was faith shattering. In the earliest Gospel, no follower is at the foot of the cross.

Post-resurrection, they look back and try to overlay the uncertainty of the cross with something that made sense to them. See Hebrews 9, for example. But what if there were no answer to “Why?” Maybe the shocking reality of the cross needn’t be intentional. Maybe it need not be expressed in neat, traditional, theological parlance. Maybe it’s about the authenticity of Jesus’ connection with us as people who know all too well of indiscriminate suffering.

Forcing “Why?” upon the cross sanitizes it. It brings it into the Temple and places it on the sacred altar before God, but Jesus’ death was profane, outside the gates, and accursed. If I may, Jesus’ life and its end at the cross have changed the world, curved our surrounding space, and draws us in and grabs hold of us, not theologically sanitized as atonement, but as the savage cost of at-one-ment. As such, Jesus’ suffering is like our suffering; it doesn’t have to have a “Why?”

Our connection with the crucified Christ, again if I may, is strengthened by the theological meaninglessness of His suffering, and Jesus’ endurance of it as such. What does it mean to proffer that Jesus’ death appeased God’s sense of justice and this allows for our forgiveness? Where is the gravity holding these tenets together? But if Jesus suffers like us, this changes the contours of the spiritual universe. It draws us in and holds us in at-one-ment.

Long before Temple sacrifices of atonement would end, the prophet Micah challenges their value even if offered by the tens of thousands. Rather, he writes, “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6: 6-8)

The earth curves the space around it, but there still needs to be something there to complete gravity’s connection. The something there in the connection of at-one-ment is our response to Christ’s suffering. Atonement emphasizes what Jesus did for us. At-one-ment emphasizes what Jesus did and also challenges us to respond. It reflects Micah’s prophecy.

Two weeks ago, the nation paused as we passed the grim milestone of half a million COVID-19 deaths in our country. President Biden spoke solemnly that night: “I know what it’s like to not be there when it happens. I know what it’s like when you are there holding their hands; there’s a look in their eye and they slip away. That black hole in your chest — you feel like you’re being sucked into it. The survivor’s remorse, the anger, the questions of faith in your soul.”

I pray that at-one-ment with the suffering Saviour may inspire us to face “that black hole” and “the questions of faith” that suffering often engenders, deepening our connection with such a Savior and increasing our empathy with each other.

About the church

On March 1, I was named pastor of the Sunderland Congregational Church, United Church of Christ. I am also the pastor of the Hatfield Congregational Church, UCC. Due to the COVID protocols, we are worshipping on Sunday mornings via Zoom. Any and all are welcome to join us as we continue our Lenten journey of discovery. Send me an email at randyc1897@gmail.com and I will send you the log-in link for our worship Services and/or for our bi-weekly Bible Study. Whoever you are, you are welcome among us. More is available at www.scc1717.wordpress.com