Weekly Lectionary takes a look (sometimes brief, sometimes longer, sometimes odd) at one of the lectionary passages for the upcoming Sunday. This week we're looking at the New Testament passage: Hebrews 4:12-16.
The message that I pull from this passage is quite simple. Peel back the layers of Great High Priest and the word of God (scripture? logos?) being a sword. When you get down to it, there is this: Jesus understands our weakness. And even though he didn't sin, Jesus sympathizes with humanity.
Sympathy is a pretty big word in there. I have often looked at this passage and seen Jesus passing through our temptation as a sign of Jesus being holy or proof that we can pass unscathed through the temptations that we face. Those thoughts are not necessarily untrue. But the idea of Jesus sympathizing with our weakness is just not something one can ignore. I think a major point is that he knows and even appreciates how difficult it is to be human.
I think I have always believed that God looks at us like abject failures whenever we sin. We are massive disappointments. And in that mindset, this Hebrews passage sort of became "Why can't you be more like your big brother Jesus?" Yet sympathy changes the tenor of that relationship.
It doesn't mean that sin is okay. It doesn't mean that God is happy when we do things that hurt ourselves or other people. But God knows us well and understands. God understands the hell that we put ourselves and each other through when we capitulate to the myriad of temptations that drag down our gaze. And God wants to help us. God wants us to know that we can approach the Holy for the aid we so desperately need without fear.
All of that is a reminder to me that, even in our weakness, humanity is known, understood, and, yes, even loved.
I believe that most of us experience an internal tug-of-war between the past and the future. In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis’ titular demon supervisor advises his underling Wormwood that one of best ways to keep a human from doing good is to keep them ping-ponging between those two times that are not the present. One keeps trying to recapture or reach towards moments that are mist. It can keep a person from doing something.
The quote above resonates with me because it harnesses the past and unfinished future into a catalyst that animates our present. We remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus because it means something today and compels us to presently work for the Good that is already here, but also not yet. We remember the hope and pain of the past to do something that help us take some sort of step each and every day. We realize that the hope which exists within the gospel story is not yet fully realized. Many people are still being left behind and forgotten. The realization, as the theologian Metz states, puts pressure and questions on the present.