From Darkness to Light

Bourguet, Wilkinson

• Publisher: Cascade Books
• Year: 2016
• eBook ISBN: 9781498281867
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

In these meditations Daniel Bourguet enables us to draw alongside the thief on the cross and enter his dialogue with Christ; he guides us downward into the darkness of hell through a reading of Psalm 88; and finally we discover on Easter morning both the confusion and then faith of Mary Magdalene as she meets the Risen Lord (John 20). Bourguet's confidence in the biblical text means that he engages with it and follows wherever it leads, however risky... and he emerges--with us--miraculously enriched.

chapter 1

Christ and the Thief

32 Two others, malefactors, were led out to be executed with him. 33 When they arrived at the place known as The Place of the Skull, there they crucified him, together with the malefactors, one on his right, the other on his left. 34 Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

They parted his garments among themselves by the casting of lots. 35 The people stood there and looked on. The rulers mocked, saying, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the Christ, the chosen.”

36 The soldiers derided him, going up to him and giving him vinegar, 37 saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” 38 There was an inscription above him, “This is the King of the Jews.”

39 One of the crucified malefactors began to curse, saying, “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us too.” 40 But the other replied, rebuking him, “Have you no fear of God, you who are under the same condemnation as him? 41 For us this is justice, we are receiving our due reward, but he has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus said to him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.”

44 It was already about midday and there was darkness right across the entire land for three hours; 45 the sun had disappeared. The veil of the temple was split in two. 46 Then Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last.

47 Seeing what had happened, the centurion glorified God, saying, “Certainly, this was a just man.” 48 All those who were present in the crowd, seeing events unfold, turned away, beating their breasts.

49. Those who knew him stood at a distance, as well as the women who had followed him from Galilee and were watching everything. (Luke 23)

No death, assuredly, can leave us indifferent; here, we have three men to watch as death approaches, three tortured men sharing their final moments side by side; among the three we find our Lord Jesus, the well-beloved Son of God the Father. Surely no other Bible passage is as poignant as this.

What Luke relates fills us with emotion, but an emotion so great that it is beyond understanding, beyond anything words can express. Luke, moreover, either doesn’t know how or doesn’t dare fully state it; for sure, it is in the silence that we can best seek to understand. Of silence, there is plenty; the text is full of it, overflowing, a fact that is easily recognized since what is described in these few lines constitutes the events of six hours. Six long hours of agony in just a dozen verses; this tells us the degree to which the account is pregnant with silence.

In the briefest of surveys of the text we can take in everything spoken by the men on the crosses; three times Jesus speaks, one of the criminals speaks once and the other twice. Six sentences in six hours! We see how deeply the agony of the three is marked by silence. Other comments are added to those of the condemned men, but these can be counted on the fingers of one hand; there are those of the rulers, the soldiers, and then, later, after Jesus’ death, that of the centurion. That is all; everything else is silence . . . Apart from the rulers and the soldiers, not a word is spoken by the people. Towards the back, somewhat apart, are a few of Jesus’ friends with some women from Galilee, but neither do they break the silence. Death draws near without any sound, while, crowning everything, hovering over the scene, is the immense silence of God, to which no one could be indifferent . . . The Son dies enfolded in the silence of his Father.

When the sun disappears, this does the reverse of breaching the silence which reigns. The darkness steals, noiselessly, across the entire land. One sound alone comes to disturb the silence, a most strange, even anguished sound, that of the veil of the temple being ripped . . . After this rending sound, the silence takes hold again, so deeply that it is possible to hear Jesus’ final breath.

And so Jesus dies. It is our turn to be seized with silence, faced with the inexpressible.

Six long hours

Luke gives just one piece of information about the timespan of these events; he tells us that the darkness filled the land for three hours, from midday until three (v. 44). Because of Mark we can say that Jesus’ agony stretched across about six hours, since he tells us that the tortured men were crucified at nine in the morning (15:25).

According to John’s Gospel, we know that Jesus was dead before the other two unfortunates (19:32–33), without our knowing exactly how long the pain of these two continued. It was however no more than a few hours, since their legs were broken so they would die more quickly, before the onset of night.

Such is this account, both extraordinarily sober and dense; we need to meditate it slowly, to the rhythm of the words and silences, knowing that its depth is too great for us.

Companionship in death

In this account we are going to pay careful attention to the companionship of the dying men. Seen from this angle, the account is once again extraordinary. We are presented with the agony of two criminals who have the immense privilege of being accompanied in their deaths by none other than Jesus himself. Jesus will wonderfully be right alongside the two men, and goes so far as to share their death and die with them. Who would not long to have Jesus alongside them in this way?

At the same time, while Jesus accompanies the two dying men by dying with them, he himself has the company in death of the same two tortured companions. Jesus does not die alone; his two neighbors also share his death. Certainly each of them accompanies Jesus in his own way, one of them cursing, the other being converted, but they are indeed there, and we find that Jesus, for better or for worse, was afforded their company; neither should we forget the companionship of all those others who were witnesses of his death. They too were there with contrasting attitudes, the sarcasm of some, but also the moving silence of others, which we feel to have been compassionate on the part of those who knew him; this was surely the case with the women from Galilee, whose eyes never left him through the long hours of agony; a comforting presence, to which we should add that of the centurion, whose final exclamation denotes his rapt attention.

Such is the text which enables us to contemplate Jesus alongside the two dying men as he died with them, accompanied by them in his agony.

An exchange of words and silences

To die at Jesus’ side; is this not extraordinary? It is so much so that Luke invites us in his account to participate in this as a mystery, and yet he is the only Gospel writer to do so! Might this be because as a doctor Luke feels closer to the dying? Perhaps. It’s certainly the case that the other three evangelists, together in agreement as to mentioning the presence of the two crucified criminals, say nothing of their encounter with Christ. Luke is alone in reporting the few words that passed between the three tortured men; it is him we follow as we engage with the dialogue.

A six-hour dialogue is a lengthy one! Certainly, according to the Gospels, it is the longest of any in which Jesus participated. An exchange with so few words and so much silence is also very unusual; indeed it is so exceptional that the silences of the account cannot be neglected; they are as much to be explored as the words. The fact is that in this encounter each silence throws into relief and prolongs the impact of the speech; in short, the words and silences alongside each other interpenetrate and mingle, there for our meditation.

The source for Luke’s account

Luke was not one of the first generation disciples, but had to rely on a multitude of witnesses in preparing his Gospel (see 1:2). Who then was it who heard the dialogue between Jesus and the thief, and then told it to Luke? Who was close enough to the cross to have heard what the crucified men were saying? Who had Luke been able to interview so as to report what none of the other evangelists do?

Matthew and Mark only report the words of Jesus from the cross that were cried out in a loud voice, as is specified in their two Gospels (Matt 27:46, 50; Mark 15:34, 37). They record only Jesus’ cries; the accounts they provide us are those of witnesses who stood at a distance. In John, things are different, but this is easily understood, because this disciple stood near the cross. As for Luke, he most certainly was not at the foot of the cross to hear what he has nevertheless passed on to us. Who was his informant?

Near the cross, Luke tells us, there also stood some women. Which of these did he speak to if not the same person he interviewed with regard to Jesus childhood, that is, Mary, Jesus’ mother? The whole account of Jesus childhood manifestly has its origin in the information given by Mary. The crucifixion account must, it seems to me, come from the same source.

Mary, John tells us, was also near the cross (John 19:25), but curiously Luke is silent on this point; one wonders why. Luke surely knew from Mary herself that she had stood near the cross, so why does he say nothing of this? The silence conveys, I believe, Luke’s sensitivity towards Mary’s suffering. At the foot of the cross this mother’s pain is beyond anything, inexpressible. Luke is so unable to put this extreme pain into words that he prefers to keep silent, though the silence is not total.

At the beginning of his Gospel, Luke reports the prophecy given in the temple by Simeon to Mary. Filled with the Holy Spirit, the old man had announced, “And you yourself shall be pierced through to the soul with a sword” (2:35). This was exactly the suffering of Mary at the foot of the cross, the suffering of a sword piercing the soul . . . something beyond understanding.

Near the cross, Mary knew the pain announced by Simeon. Luke knew this and tells us of it early in his Gospel; he does not repeat it, it is not restated.

If Mary was Luke’s favored witness in his account of the crucifixion, then certain aspects of his account become clear.

The conversation Mary heard between her son and the good thief must have been a tremendous solace to her sorrowful heart. In the midst of all the insults, she had the joy of hearing a man speak to her son with gentleness; “Jes...

Table of contents

• Translator’s note
• Preface
• Foreword
• Chapter 1: Christ and the Thief
• Chapter 2: The Psalm of Descent into Hell
• Chapter 3: Christ and Mary Magdalene
• Song 6: 1-3