His death holds years of injustice, of unrelenting hatred, of dignity thrown to the ground and massacred.
Now I get a sense of what longing for the Messiah meant for the Jewish people; hoping and waiting for someone who would fix everything, take away the suffering imposed upon your people for generations. I get the disappointment now when Jesus hadn't shown up to end political evils and upturn unjust infrastructures.
I feel the weight of the phrase,"We had hoped..." as I think about the dejected disciples on their way to Emmaus. I can understand that heaviness as I realize every day I am hoping, but turn to find that hope tossed away by another senseless killing.
If the world won't change unless I change, then should I be placing the burden of hope upon myself? Is it I who should be ending political evils and upturning unjust infrastructures?
My mind falls upon a scene from an unassuming Netflix series called "The Letter for the King". Tiuri, a young knight in training, has an incredibly profound encounter with an odd monk. It is the monk's last paragraph which grabs my attention now, but the entire conversation and scene is worth noting:
Tiuri and his travel companion have taken refuge at a seemingly dark and sinister monastery. Late into the night, Tiuri realizes he's lost an item very important to him and goes out into the hall looking for it. The odd monk finds him instead and they make their way downstairs for a turning point in Tiuri's inward journey...
[Monk hands Tiuri a large sword.]
T: It's too heavy for me.
M: On the contrary, that heaviness, that weight, that's what we carry around in our hearts our whole lives.
[They lift their swords for a duel, but Tiuri says he can't and drops the sword.]
M: What's in there? What's in that heart of yours that dare not speak? You will have been told to ignore it. To pretend it's not there. But ignoring it is like choosing a lighter sword. And what comes from turning our back on the heaviness inside?
[Monk hands Tiuri a lighter sword. They duel and Tiuri quickly loses.]
M: It destroys us. You have to face it. You have to face the heaviness. Because the heaviness is what's keeping you from being who you really are.
[Tiuri picks up the heavy sword again.]
M: Embrace it. Look into your heart with clear eyes and move with it.
[They duel and Tiuri does much better.]
M: Let out the boy you are inside, the boy you've never known, the boy who's never dared step into the light. Face the heaviness that's stopping that boy and name it.
[They duel again. Tiuri continues to fight well and then names his heaviness as "loss".]
M: It's not the pain which ruins us, my child. It's the things we do to avoid the pain.
T: I fear it will break me.
M: Then break. Break. Let Spirit crack you open. Let yourself be forged in the crucible of your own agony, transformed into the most perfect instrument of destiny... If you can embrace the fullness of your pain, you can embrace the fullness of that power.
It's this final paragraph from the monk which comes to me today, offering a bit of consolation and encouragement. It's a reminder to me that hope crucified is not the end of the story, but a place from which true hope flows.
Ahmaud Arbery, today you are my hope crucified. You are the innocence I had hoped would live. Instead, you have been robbed of life after only 25 years on this earth and it has caused pain for so many. May we allow this tragedy to be a crucible which forges us and transforms us into the most perfect instruments of destiny. May embracing our pain lead us to embrace the fullness of our power. May this not be the end of Ahmaud Arbery's story.
