Liberation day, the true one

Today is Good Friday. For the majority of people living in the post-Christian West who know anything about Jesus, it is probably the most ironically misnamed day of the year. It records the most likely date — the 3rd April, 33 A.D. to be very exact (I’m not ever using that PC C.E. stuff) — and on that date Christians remember and reflect on what they believe rightly marks an event without compare, outside both space and time: The death of God.

When I was a child in Ireland, I never really thought about what it signified, albeit that a very important person — God’s son — died. But it was okay, he came back in the end. As a bonus, Lent ended and I could have chocolate, Coca-Cola, some Easter eggs — essential ingredients for a good pigging out session. When you get older, such simplification, however, is lost because you lose that child-like faith and you gain an adult's realisation about the memorialized events. One that is deeply unsettling.

Contrary to many politicians’ woeful attempts to explain the values of Easter — often implying that its about joy and togetherness, according to a previous UK Prime Minister, and I shudder to think how our crowd will refer to it — any serious look at the true message of Easter, and, by proxy, Christianity will find its message incredibly disconcerting: that is that someone else was willing to suffer and die for you.

Jesus was betrayed by his friends, ignored and spat upon by his own people, went through scourging and tortures, humiliation and the most sadistic punishment of the ancient world — Crucifixion — to save me, and every soul like me without exception. Hardly surprising that, as St. Paul accounts it, remains a stumbling block for both Gentiles and Hebrews, one can even see why so many modern-day Gentiles, i.e., the new atheists (who oddly always see Jesus as “a nice chap”), reject it with indignation.

Both liberals and conservatives routinely use Christ’s teaching in their moral language in everyday political discourse. Liberals, while unceasingly proclaiming the separation of church and state, openly talk about the positive policies of social justice, such as helping the poor, sick and dying, and using Christian language and church support to endow these causes with legitimacy. Conservatives proclaim the values of Christ in their life and how religion has a positive moral viewpoint of the world to give, informing both public and state discourse and respect for individual liberty and human dignity. Both, however, fall short of a full view of the main tenet of Christianity’s message.

The Christian message and Jesus’ death can cause even the most rabid believer to question it. Did Jesus need to suffer so badly? Couldn’t he have resisted Roman and Jewish corruption without dying? Why did God allow him, an innocent man, to suffer for us all? Could there have been another way? Why did he submit to the evil authorities? And foremost is an idea posted by the English Telegraph writer Tim Stanley several years ago: that Christianity embraces suffering, in part as a good thing in itself. That is very hard to understand. Especially to anyone living in the 21st century, as a euthanasia debate rages. To tolerate suffering, or give over, as some would say, is not something we're inclined to accept.

But perhaps the hardest message is not even the suffering Christ went through nearly 2,000 years ago (although he might have a different opinion on that) to die for this lousy Irishman.

Am I really worthy of him? Has my life been worthy of his sacrifice? I’ve done things I’m not proud of: cursed, doubted him, taught impure thoughts about God and religious people, cursed, drank too much or too little, been unnecessarily angry, committed mortal sins by the thousand, blasphemed in body and speech, despaired and gossiped, lied, dishonored my parents, wallowed in envy and hate towards my neighbors, friends and enemies. I’m not even going to mention the sexual sins.

Yet there is a part I’m leaving out, and it's liberating. Something that even the lousy Catholic in me recognises. That God so loved the world that he sent his son for people like me, rather than allow us to be cut off for eternity. To save me, he was willing to die for me to pay my price for sin.

As it was, he knew we couldn’t do it by ourselves. So he sent Him – so whilst today's feast is disconcerting, it's also liberating. That no matter how bad I fall, or how badly I screw up with (or around), there is hope. Jesus has paid my price.

Which is why even though it's my birthday this Friday, I won't drink. Instead, I will go to church at 3 pm and thank him.

Happy Easter.