The cross and the crucified Christ have become so ubiquitous in the lives of modern day Christians that we can sometimes forget what we are looking at and what it means for us. The image of Christ crucified passed down to us from European art and liturgical traditions generally shows a muscular, strong, triumphant Christ, even if he is shown in misery. And, of course, he usually looks distinctly European. Go figure. While visiting some of the mission churches in California and Texas, I have seen a different Christ emerge. And while some of the differences can be attributed to the nature of folk art vs. classical art, the result is nevertheless a bit more disturbing. The images pull no punches. This is pain. This is Christ as lamb of God, taking away the sins of the world. This is Christ as man and animal, as a beast of burden.
In Shusaku Endo’s novel, “The Samurai,” the Japanese-Christian author describes the crucified Christ as, “that ugly, emaciated figure with arms and legs nailed to a cross and his head hanging limply down.” So why are we drawn to this pathetic figure, this failure? Endo writes: “Somewhere in the heart of men there’s a yearning for someone who will be with you throughout your life, someone who will never betray you, never leave you — even if that someone is a sick, mangy dog. That man became just such a miserable dog for the sake on mankind.”
This is the stuff we don’t much like thinking about and words we rarely if ever use. This is powerful, disturbing imagery, but it rings true somewhere deep down. This God-with-us, this Jesus, became a slave, a mangy dog. It was why he came. Yet he becomes the triumphant slave — the victor, the overcomer — not for himself, but for us. Without the crucifixion and subsequent resurrection, all of our prayers and worship are empty and in vain. Without this ghastly death, there is no hope of new life.
Ask yourself in silence: Is this my Christ? Am I willing and able to pray to Christ crucified? Where does he fit in my life?
