Skip to main content

Let Us Be Grieved

Ride on, ride on in majesty, in lowly pomp ride on to die.


Last week, Jesus the Christ rode into Jerusalem—triumphant and humble, riding on a donkey. This was the Prophesied Redeemer, riding into Jerusalem to reclaim it from the hands of the oppressive Romans. But, Jesus did not rid the Romans by militant force or supernatural eviction. Instead, Jesus died.

Today, Jesus is dead. He is dead, bled out on a cross with his life gone from behind his eyes. He has stiffened up, excremented, and begun to smell of rot. The mythologized loincloth does nothing to hide the  extent of his injuries, and the spear plunged into his side only confirms. Our Jesus has been murdered at the hands of the state, completely and utterly dead.

Today, you may hear a preacher proclaim that "Christ is not dead forever!" But, beloved, do not be fooled. This proclamation is but a falsity. Our Jesus died on the cross. What foolishness it is to have hope when our Jesus has died. Today is a day of sorrow, not of hope. Our hope has been nailed dead to a tree. In death, there is no hope at all. In death, there is no honor or valor—there is nothing but silence at the end of the line.

So, beloved, when the preacher says "Christ will rise in three days!," know that he is a fool. Do not be wooed away from your current grief by delusions of grandeur. Today is a day of grief. Today is a day in which our deepest cries of anguish must erupt from our souls— a day in which we plead, in this anguish, that God take the "little ones [of our enemies to] dash them against the rock!" These are the cries that must come from the depths of our souls on this most sorrowful day. If these are not your cries, I question whether you mourn the death of Jesus at all.

Our Christ is dead. Our hope is gone.

Let us be grieved.

Popular posts from this blog

שיריי לאחרונה

לאחרונה קשה לי למצוא מילים לפרסם. ובכל זאת, אני חולם כבר זמן־מה על לכתוב משהו גדול. א   התחלתי בנסיון לכתוב הקדמה לספר, אחר כך חיבור פולמוסי, אחר כך דרשה, ולבסוף אוסף שירים. אבל, כל אחד מהם נפל קצר מחזוני עבורם. חזיונות אלו הפכו להבל כשניסיתי למשוך אותם מאחורי עיניי. א אז, החלטתי לכתוב שירים בודדים, משוחררים מכל אוסף או נושא. כאן, חזיונותיי התממשו. א כאן, הם עדיין מתממשים. א הם מתממשים באמנות שניתן להחזיק במעט מילים. הם מתממשים באמנות המתייחסת גם למילים שבאו מזמן רב לפני.  הם מתממשים בשפות שבעבר היו זרות וברעיונות שעדיין נעבדים ומתממשים. א האם זוהי מתנה, להיות מוגבל ביכולתו ליצור? אינני יודע. א

As the Concrete Dries

"It was so confusing. I feel like I wasn't enough to keep him here, you know?" "What would you say to them?" "But, the sparrow still falls." "It will be in the past for the rest of time." "I don't understand... how do people do it? I don't know how." "The concrete is still drying." - I grew up always scared and fascinated by floods. I remember running out of my house and down to the creek to watch as the waters rose from a trickle to a menacing stream. I still have a piece of pavement from the road, in fact. This was when I could watch as water finally reentered my homeland after our long droughts. I couldn't have imagined that one like this would hit my home, though. Children are dead. Parents are dead. Animals are dead. There are still more. Old friends help with rescue efforts. Family helps with clean up. I lay stranded in mind and spirit by the weight of it all. What good is a God that lets a sparrow fall, ...

I Cried Not for Them

This week, I finished my tenure as a supply minister in an Oklahoman church. This was a wonderful experience, and the church was filled with the love of Jesus. Oh, how wonderful it was. And, in leaving them, I wanted to leave them with a word that reassured and pushed them in their current direction—a movement towards creating a place where all can belong in their church. I felt that I did as such; they thought so also. I believe it brought a tear to more than one eye. It brought tears to my eyes as well, but I cried not for them... I cried for my siblings who don't believe that all belong in the community of God. I cried for my siblings who say God's community is limited to the straight, cisgender person. I cried for those who believe that queer and trans people must forego their identities to belong in this beloved community that we call the Church. And when I gave communion, my heart broke. While I saw in front of me a congregation of queer and straight people eating and dri...