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2014-04-13        Daniel Daring     

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Our kenotic Lord

Isaiah 50:4-7; Philippians 2:6-11; Matthew 27:11-54

            We are all familiar with the word kinetic. We can easily associate it with energy. But, not many of us are familiar with the word kenotic. Try to write it in your favorite editor and I am sure you will get the word underlined, indicating an error. Even my Oxford Dictionary does not have it. Few of us, therefore, would be able to associate this word with God. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave” (Philippians 2:5-7). The Greek word kenos means “empty” and the verb kenoo, “make empty.” The English adjectival form, kenotic, is meant to shatter our familiarity with concepts and ideas associated with God. What kind of God is He who takes the form of a slave? But, perhaps not. Perhaps, the question is too intellectual to touch our hearts and make us ponder over the mystery of our faith of which the crucified Christ is the cornerstone. Could there be another way to make us ponder over this strange adjective? Let us try a different approach.

            We are familiar with the story of Jesus' crucifixion. Our preachers constantly make references to that event and in our liturgical tradition, we hear that story twice in two slightly different versions: on Palm Sunday, the synoptic versions or the accounts according to the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, or Luke; and on Good Friday, the version according to the Gospel of John. None of us sheds tears. Few of us, however, are familiar with an account of the death of a Jewish boy in Auschwitz. And the account can make your heart ache. Here is the excerpt:

 One day when we came back from work, we saw three gallows rearing up in the assembly place, three black crows. . . . Three victims in chains – and one of them, the little servant, the sad-eyed angel. . . . The three victims mounted together onto the chairs. The three necks were placed at the same moment within the nooses.

“Long live liberty!” cried the two adults.

But the child was silent.

“Where is God? Where is He? Someone behind me asked.

At the sign from the head of the camp, the three chairs tipped over. (E. Wiesel, Night, p. 61)

             Such question can only emerge from a shattering experience that cannot be comprehended. Yes. Where is He? I would also like to know. Where was God two thousand years ago on that lonely hill outside Jerusalem? The world should stop, shouldn't it? His only Son was being crucified. Where was God during the Holocaust? The world should stop, shouldn't it? His chosen people were being crucified. Where was God when the two jets crushed into the Twin Towers? Where was God when the coalition of the willing was destroying the ancient city of Baghdad? This litany of questions could have no end. There is so much pain, so much suffering around us, and yet the world goes on as if nothing has been happening. Where is God? Has He forgotten us?  

The two adults were no longer alive. . . . But the third rope was still moving; being so light, the child was still alive. . . .

Behind me, I heard the same man asking:

“Where is God now?”

And I heard a voice within me answer him:

“Where is He? Here He is – He is hanging here on this gallows. . . .” (E. Wiesel, Night, p. 62)

             Yes. If God cannot be found in the midst of misery, pain, and suffering, He cannot be found anywhere. The kenotic Christ who hangs on the cross and cries “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46) reveals to us a form of God that we are least familiar with: a loser, a victim, a sufferer. But, there is a hidden gem in this shocking revelation. Jesus lived up to the angel's announcement: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means, 'God is with us'” (Matthew 1:23). Losing, suffering, and being victimized does not mean that God has forgotten us. In such moments, we pray to Him, imagining Him to be somewhere far in heaven, asking for help. He doesn't help and we ask why. And what is the answer? Maybe this? We fail to realize that He has stripped Himself of all his powers in order to be with us.

            A powerless God? Well. I do not know whether our concept of power can be applied to God. I would rather say a different God, a mysterious One, a God that defies our explanations. What kind of God would like to leave His comfort zone in heaven and enter the history of humanity on the side of the victims? What kind of God would be ready to suffer the way we suffer? Aren't gods supposed to be beyond pain and suffering? Yet, this One decided to act differently. He “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave. . . . And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on the cross” (Philippians 2:7-8). Why did He do such a thing? To show us His love? To prove that He cares? But, couldn't He do it differently? Of course, He could. Wasn't He in the form of God, after all? But, something made Him to choose the kenotic way and we are told to follow Him. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5).

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