Not Forgotten,
Forsaken
I recently watched a rerun of PBS’ production Jesus
Christ, Superstar, in Concert. It’s not exactly “in concert.” I mean,
there’s a lot of staging and acting involved. Still, it’s a powerful
presentation of the Webber/Rice show about Jesus’ last week in Jerusalem, his
crucifixion, and his resurrection (of sorts, at least). John Legend presents a
powerful depiction of Jesus. Sara Barellis is moving as Mary Magdalene. Brandon
Victor Dixon virtually steals the show as Judas. Alice Cooper as King Herod is
a hoot. He’s got two of the best lines in the show. He sings to Jesus: “Prove
to me that you’re divine, turn my water into wine,” and “Prove to me that
you’re no fool, walk across my swimming pool.” All in all it is a powerful
presentation.
It surely is that, but there are two things about it to
which I object. One is that it presents Mary Magdalene as a prostitute. The
Christian tradition came long ago to say that she was that, but nowhere in the
Gospels does it say that. The Gospels just don’t say that about her. Making her
a prostitute was part of the sexist Christian tradition demeaning a woman who
clearly was one of Jesus’ closest disciples because it couldn’t stand the fact
that a woman was precisely that, one of Jesus’ closest disciple. That Jesus
Christ Superstar perpetuates that calumny is of course highly significant.
My other objection to something that happens in this show is, however, even
more important.
In the show Jesus is shown on some kind of cross. It isn’t
really a Roman cross, but never mind. While he is on the cross Jesus recites
basically Jesus’ last words from all four Gospels, ending with John’s “It is
finished.” In reciting Jesus’ last words from Mark and Matthew, however, this
show’s Jesus gets it wrong. He says “My God, my God, why have you forgotten
me?” That simply is not what Mark and Matthew have him say. They have him say
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Perhaps Tim Rice simply didn’t
understand the theological import of “forsaken” here. Or maybe he couldn’t deal
with the power of “forsaken” here. Whatever. The fact remains that Rice turning
“forsaken” into “forgotten” takes all of the theological teeth out of the words
that first Mark (chronologically first) and then Matthew have Jesus say. It is
that taming of Mark’s language that I want to address here.
We start with the fact that “forgotten” and “forsaken” are
not the same thing. Forgotten is innocent. Forgotten is inadvertent. No one,
not even God, sets out to forget something or someone. Or if they do their
trying to forget just keeps bringing the thing they’re trying to forget back to
their minds. Beyond that, it is hard to believe that the omniscient God has
ever forgotten anything. Forgetting is a very human thing. We all do it. God
doesn’t. “Forsaken” is not innocent. It is not inadvertent. To forsake is
intentional. It is something someone affirmatively decides to do. God doesn’t
forget. God can forsake (although whether or not God ever does is a complex question.
Stay tuned) So no, “forgotten” is not a synonym for “forsaken.” It is not an
adequate substitute for forsaken. Having Jesus say it from the cross is just
wrong. But perhaps you’re thinking well, yes, forget and forsake don’t mean the
same thing; but what difference does it make? Does it really matter whether
Jesus says God has forsaken him or forgotten him? Well, yes. It matters. It
matters a great deal. Here’s why.
When on the cross Jesus says God has forsaken him he means that
God has affirmatively turned God’s back on him. Abandoned him. Left him on his
own. Left him to suffer and die without God. To suffer and die because he has
done God’s will throughout his public ministry and, we presume, throughout his
life. He means that God has in effect said to him: “Sorry kid. I’m out of here.
Deal with this hell yourself.” If all God had done was forget Jesus God could
have remembered him, said “Oops! Sorry about that. I’m back.” Not so with
forsaking. When Jesus says “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” he says
that he feels abandoned. He is in despair because the God to whom he had
devoted his entire life and because of his dedication to whom he is now
suffering and dying has left him there to suffer and die alone. With no one to
suffer with him. With no Divinity to give him strength and solace. With no
sacred voice to say you suffer now but know, really know, that I go through it
with you and have a blessed welcome for you on the other side. With God
forsaking him he is left to believe that he was wrong. That he’d backed the
wrong horse. He’d radically misunderstood who God is and what God wanted from
him. God “forgetting” him has none of that meaning. It might mean he didn’t
think Jesus was important enough to remember, but it can’t mean much more than
that. “Forsaking” means more than that. A lot more than that.
“Forsaken” means a lot more for Jesus than “forgotten” would
mean. And because it means a lot more for Jesus, it means a lot more for us. Life
isn’t easy. It is easier for some than for others of course, but no one goes
through an entire lifetime without suffering. We all feel pain. We all feel
lost at times, like we don’t now what we’re doing or what we’re supposed to be
doing. Perhaps most importantly no one gets out of this life alive. Our loved ones
die. In the end we die. Perhaps our death isn’t as miserable and unjust as
Jesus’ death was, but we all still die. In our modern world a sense of the
absence rather than the presence of God can seem nearly universal. When we look
at the state of the world, at all of the violence and injustice, at the
environmental degradation that we don’t have the will to reverse, at all of the
prejudice and hatred, it’s easy enough to wonder whether God has actually
forsaken the whole earth and everyone on it. Perhaps none of us will experience
the torment that caused Jesus to say that God had forsaken him, but we all
suffer nonetheless. It’s easy enough for all of us to feel Godforsaken
ourselves.
That’s why Jesus’ so-called cry of dereliction from the
cross is so important. Who after all is it who is feeling Godforsaken in that
scene? Yes, it’s Jesus; but who is Jesus? We Christians confess that he is the
Son of God Incarnate. He is Emmanuel, God with us. He is a miserable, persecuted,
dying human being; but at the same time he is God Godself being miserable,
persecuted, and dying. There is a profound paradox in Jesus crying out that his
God has forsaken him, for when he does it is God Godself crying out that God
has forsaken him[1]. In
Jesus’ cry dereliction it’s not just a man feeling abandoned by God. It is God
feeling abandoned by God. It is God feeling abandoned by God in God’s own
person. The great paradox of the cross is that in Jesus’ cry of dereliction God
feels abandoned by God. It is that on the cross of Jesus God Godself suffers,
feels abandoned, and dies.
Which means something really important. It means that in Jesus
on the cross God is both present and absent at the same time. Yes, I know. That
doesn’t make any sense. That is, it doesn’t make any rational sense, but it
makes profound spiritual sense. It tells us that when we feel Godforsaken, when
we lose hope, when we suffer and die, God is with us. God knows what we suffer
because God has suffered it Godself—and worse[2].
And that makes all the difference. Because of Jesus’ cry of dereliction we know
that however Godforsaken we may feel God has not forsaken us. Rather, God is
present with us in our feeling of being Godforsaken. You see, God really had
forsaken Jesus on the cross, and God really had not at the same time. It was
God after all who was Godforsaken. A profound paradox to be sure, but deeply
true.
That’s why it is so wrong to replace “Why have you forsaken
me?” with “Why have you forgotten me?” God simply forgetting Jesus on the cross
could have no profound meaning other perhaps than that God is uncaring, which
we know isn’t true. God forsaking Jesus on the cross has the most profound
meaning in all of human existence. It tells us that no matter what happens to
us, not matter how bad it is, no matter how much we suffer, and even when we
die God is with us. That is truth, the most profound truth there is and truth
we truly need. Thanks be to God!
[1]
All profound truth is paradoxical. Especially in Christianity it is. God is
Three and One at the same time. Not possible, just true. Jesus Christ if fully
human and fully divine at the same time. Not possible, just true. God is
utterly transcendent and intimately present at the same time. Not possible,
just true. God feels abandoned by God. Not possible, just true.
[2]
Several years ago my twin brother had a severe stroke. As I sat in the family
room of the ICU unit where he was being cared for I felt nearly as bad
emotionally and spiritually as I ever have save when my first wife died. Then I
saw a crucifix on the wall, a cross with the body of Jesus on it. I thought: Oh
yeah. That’s right. You’ve been here, and worse. It helped.
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