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We are continuing to look at the 30 occasions where the word “covenant” is used in the New Testament, following on Jeremiah’s introduction of the New Covenant in his prophecy. Last time we looked at our Lord’s use of the word at the end of His life as He instituted the Lord’s Supper in the book of Matthew. In doing that we actually covered four of the uses of the word, since essentially the same teaching is given in the other two synoptic Gospels: Mark and Luke. In addition in I Corinthians 11 the Apostle Paul relates the words the Lord revealed to him which comprise the most frequent introduction to our practice of the Lord’s Supper.

In the previous entry I commented on the relation between the blood of Christ and the fruit of the vine–commonly known as wine (in most cases, the unfermented variety in actual practice within our churches). In the verses we covered we saw no explicit connection between the bread of communion and the word “covenant,” although the indirect linkage is pretty strong given that both the body and the blood of our Lord are in view as he becomes sin for us as he dies on the cross.

During this Lenten season the most graphic portrayal of the Lord’s sacrifice of His body and His blood for us was seen in Mel Gibson’s movie: The Passion of the Christ. A few weeks ago son Mark and I ventured forth to the local cinema and viewed the film. After all the media coverage and personal comments from friends & family I braced myself for what I was about to see. And yes, it was very impactful–perhaps too much so in the sense that it seemed to take that single word “scourged” in the Gospels and amplify it a hundredfold. I suppose because I had been prepared for this intense section of the film, I found myself able to handle it emotionally. For example, I didn’t find myself groaning in my spirit as I sometimes do during the actual taking of the Lord’s Supper when, without benefit of any visual stimulus, I see in my mind the Lord suffering for me and my sins.

What surprised me was how I was very much moved at the end of the film when Joseph and Nicodemus took the dead body of Jesus down from the cross. Suddenly, I had a flashback to 12:14 PM of July 28, 2003. In my mind, superimposed on Jesus’ body was the body of my dead wife just after she drew her last breath. Now, I did groan deeply within my spirit. My pain at her passing was somehow intertwined with the fact that the perfect man had also had to die. And so I experienced two griefs for that moment: the grief that my sin–and that of our fallen race–had required the death of the Lamb of God; and the grief that the most sanctified human being I had ever known likewise had to die because she, too, was a sinner.

A friend of mine–about my age–used to refer to himself and to me as “fossils”. In this youth-oriented culture we old guys seem out of touch with the changing times. But it occurs to me that aging, and seeing my wife die before my eyes, and knowing that my own death is not that far off now, has given me a perspective that, while sad, is also profound. Now when I take the “body and the blood” during the sacrament, I know something deeper about what it means to die–and therefore what it meant for the Lord of All to die–actually die–to stop breathing, to stop moving, to stop talking, to stop seeing. Those things happened to my beloved. And they happened to my Savior. And someday they will happen to me–and I might add–to you also.

The other day as I rode the train home I read an article about Francis Crick, the great Nobel-winning scientist who was the co-discoverer of DNA. At age 87 he is still active and attempting to prove scientifically that conciousness is nothing more than the effect of random vibrations of the molecules in our brains. “The view of ourselves as ‘persons’ is just as erroneous as the view that the sun goes around the earth,” he says. “In the fullness of time educated people will believe there is no soul independent of the body, and hence no life after death.”

As I pondered this quotation from the great scientist, I couldn’t help but think, “if you only knew my Susie, like I knew my Susie.” Somehow, those with monumental intellects seem devoid of the ability to detect what even a little child knows instinctively: the presence of love that transcends any physical mechanism. Little Susanna knew that well, and that’s why she still wants to go where Nana is. And someday she will.

The movie ended with only a brief glimpse of the resurrection of the Lord. I wanted more. But maybe it’s just as well. The true power of the resurrection is not seen in a movie, but in the Body of Christ: His people. I saw it displayed daily in my beloved Susan, right up until the end. He lives! And so does she!

This entry was posted on Monday, April 19th, 2004 at 10:12 pm and is filed under Jeremiad. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.