by Father Seth Cain

It’s Holy Monday.

Look patiently at this painting from Caravaggio (The Taking of Christ, 1602). Where do your eyes go? Mine are drawn to Jesus’ hands, folded tightly yet somehow peacefully, his fingers interlocked and illuminated by an alien light. Notice how hands are prominent all over this painting - clutching, reaching, telling the story. This piece talks with its hands.

The central word in the story of Jesus’ arrest is “handed over” (paradidōmi). It was Judas, of course, the one in the painting with hollow eyes and a hand hooking Jesus closer for the infamous kiss (Mark 14:10). Some translations say, “betrayed,” but the Greek literally reads he was “handed over” or “delivered by.” The word is used not only to describe what Judas did in his betrayal, but also what the heavenly Father did in his generous mercy in Romans 8:32:

“He who did not spare his own Son, but paradidōmi for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?”

The larger balance of Jesus’ life on earth is filled with what he is doing — teaching, touching, healing, traveling, retreating. But after being handed over, the story is about what is done to him, over which he exerts no control.

He is arrested, abandoned, denied, and accused. He is dragged around from one corrupt official to another. Tried unjustly. Punched mockingly. Stripped. Crowned with cruel thorns. His hands and feet are hammered through with nails and pinned to wood like heavy leather hung to dry in a tannery.

As Henri Nouwen says, “That is the meaning of his Passion — being the recipient of other people’s initiatives.”

Jesus was putting the choice before the people of Jerusalem: “Will you be my disciples or my executioners?” He puts the choice before each one and before them collectively. Before human government. Before religion. Before culture. The Passion means Jesus is suffering the agony of waiting to see how they would respond to the question. Yet he knows already, even as he descends the Mount of Olives sobbing. Only the unthinkable could change the outcome — an active refusal to give himself away to the Father. To humanity. To love.

This week we are executioners. And at the same time, we are disciples because we know we are his executioners. We are in the waiting with him, knowing how the story plays out but letting it have its full weight upon our otherwise fickle and forgetful hearts, bloated with a selfishness we struggle to detect.

Our sins — past, present and future — are the nails hammered through his giving hands.
These were not clinched fists forced and held open for the hammering.
They are handed over.
Hands willingly opened.

The Collect for Holy Monday
Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the Cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.