the son of man has no place to lay his head
Lent, traditionally understood as a time for relinquishment, spiritual enquiry, repentance and preparation for the great corporate movement of soul which is Easter is marked - if at all - too often in a somewhat tokenistic way: abstinence from chocolate, or social media or alcohol for the duration leading to the observances of holy week, again engaged with to varying degrees or not at all. And yet it remains, unquestionably, one of the great passages of the liturgical year.
In light of the theme for the Coracle reflections this Lent ('Borders and Belonging') I'm prompted to wonder what Jesus himself would have made of all this. The duration of the season of Lent mirrors his time of fasting in the desert so there is a sense of identification with the self-denial of Christ himself. So, if we engage with this period abstinence and reflection, are we attempting to conform ourselves more deeply to an image we hold of who Christ was or is or expects us to be? And how would he critique that image of himself with which we are trying to align ourselves? How would he have related to the theme 'Borders and Belonging'? To whom, or where, did he belong? After all he said: "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head."
Jesus as transgressor
In inviting us to reflect on this theme, Andrew suggested we might consider "some of the interfaces and edges that Jesus poked at, crossed, trod, lived and blurred geographically, politically, physically, theologically, socially". Where this invitation took me was to consider Jesus as transgressor. And before you send for the Inquisition, stick with me for a moment. Here are some of the root meanings of the word 'transgress':
Transgress (verb)
1 to violate a command or law : to sin
2 to go beyond a boundary or limit
3 to go beyond limits set or prescribed by : to violate divine law
Etymologically, it derives from the Latin verb 'transgredi' meaning 'to step across, step over, climb over, pass, go beyond'.
It strikes me that by any reading of the Gospel accounts (and the so-called gnostic gospels enrich this picture immeasurably), Jesus spent much of his ministry transgressing. He constantly 'stepped across' what were deeply rooted religious, cultural or social rules, values convictions or conventions, irritating or infuriating those who thought they knew better. He was often accused of breaking the law (for example by healing on the Sabbath) but perhaps in doing so, in his numerous movements of 'transgression', he was pointing us all towards a deeper truth about love and mercy over external rules and edicts, over dualistic - and often performative - conformity. His abhorrence of hypocrisy and moral grandstanding led to a whole array of confrontations with those who considered they were in authority and in constellating the circumstance of these confrontations he points us again and again towards deeper truths.
Challenging dogmas
Richard Rohr has often taught on the need for rules in the first half of life but that we must move beyond rigid legalism toward a deeper, internally discovered and arguably more spiritual understanding of what the law points us towards. The Dalai Lama is widely attributed as having said "Know the rules well, so you can break them effectively".
So I'm sensing that this Lent, I'll be spending time pondering Jesus' role as transgressor: what implications that has for me in maturing in my faith as well as the role of the church which has so often positioned itself as some sort of moral arbiter, a role which Jesus himself took a very different approach to by challenging and transgressing the dogmas and shibboleths of the dominant cultures - political and religious - that he lived amongst.
Gus MacLeod