Passion Week

I’ve always been a little confused with the use of the word “passion” when it comes to this week in our Christian calendar. It represents the period between when Jesus rode into Jerusalem hailed as a king and when he was tortured, ridiculed, crucified, died, buried, and rose again from the dead. 

I suppose my confusion comes from associating the word “passion” with the common definition of an intense desire or enthusiasm for something. When used in the phrase “Passion of the Christ”, it actually refers to the intense physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering of Jesus.

Don’t you find it ironic that the word “passion” can be used both to describe intense pleasure and intense suffering or distress? The English language is full of these contronyms (words that have two meanings and are their own opposites depending on the context in which they are used.)

Passion Week is also the week that truly grounds me when it comes to having Myasthenia Gravis. Although I try to remain positive, I still have times when I struggle. Many of the issues I face can become overwhelming and it’s quite easy to find myself in a pity party.

What I’m going through, and many of you are experiencing, cannot even come close to comparing with how Christ suffered on Good Friday, or even the days proceeding. Let’s take a look.

Even riding into Jerusalem, Jesus knew what was coming. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he constantly prayed for strength. On Thursday, he tried to tell his disciples what was about to happen while sharing with them the Passover Feast, but they didn’t really comprehend what he was saying. So, he went to Gethsemane and he prayed. By this time, the pressure was building and the foreboding knowledge of what was to come was becoming real. The Bible says he sweat blood. Just imagine what he was going through.

After praying, he was betrayed and captured. He was brought before Annas and then before Caiaphas. False witnesses testified against him, and he was beaten and mocked. Having no ability to condemn him to death, Caiaphas sent him to Pontius Pilate, who questioned him, but when he could find no guilt, he sent Jesus on to Herod Antipas. Herod Antipas sent him back to Pontius Pilate. Again, Pontius Pilate could find no guilt in Jesus, but the crowds were becoming unruly. He offered to release either Jesus or Barabbas, and the crowd chose Barabbas to be released. All this was happening, yet Jesus had done no wrong.

Pontius Pilate’s last attempt to appease the crowd was to have him beaten and scourged before bringing him back in front of the crowd one more time. Imagine the pain Jesus was going through. Beaten multiple times, scourged to the point where his back was ripped to shreds, a thorny crown thrust upon his head in mockery, yet Jesus said nothing in his own defense.

Back in front of the angry crowd, Jesus stood bloodied, beaten, yet silent. When the crowd continued to shout, “Crucify him, Crucify him”, Pilate panicked. He washed his hands of condemning this innocent man but eventually sentenced him to death.

Imagine after being beaten and scourged, having to carry your own cross to be crucified. Imagine the pain as spikes were driven through your hands and your feet as they nailed you to the cross. Imagine the pain as they lifted the cross in place. Imagine hanging there, in excruciating pain, unable to breathe. Imagine taking on the sins of all mankind as a sacrificial lamb. Imagine doing so because it was your father’s will.

I can’t imagine it. I can’t comprehend the intensity of that pain. I can’t understand willingly sacrificing my life for the souls of others. I can’t imagine suffering to the extent Jesus suffered. I can’t believe I wouldn’t have faltered and tried to save myself instead of following my father’s will.

That’s what Passion Week means to me. Suffering beyond comprehension in order to honor his father and provide redemption for all who believe. Nothing compares with that.

No pity parties for me this week. When I even get a hint of one coming, all I have to do is remember the Passion of the Christ. I have Myasthenia Gravis and even though it is inconvenient, even though I can no longer do some of the things I once enjoyed doing, even though I sometimes get extremely fatigued, even though I sometimes struggle to breathe, even though sometimes chewing and swallowing can be difficult, it is nothing, NOTHING, compared to what Jesus went through to save me.