Father, Into Thy Hands I Commend My Spirit

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Father into thy hands I commend my spirit.

O dearest Lord, thy sacred brow,
With thorns was pierced for me:
O pour thy blessing on my head,
That I may think for thee.
O dearest Lord, thy sacred hands,
With nails were pierced for me:
O send thy blessing on my hands,
That they may work for thee.
O dearest Lord thy sacred feet
With nails were pierced for me:
O send thy blessing on my feet,
That they may follow thee.
O dearest Lord, thy sacred heart,
With spear was pierced for me:
O shed thy blessing on my heart,
That I may live for thee.
         
These words are taken from Father Andrew, a good and holy priest of the Church of England, who spent his life in East London, with the poorest of the poor, living out the reality of our final words for today. Father into thy hands I commend my spirit. (St. Luke xxiii. 36) Father Andrew was fashioned from that old Anglo-Catholic model that for many years brought Jesus Christ’s sacrificial presence to so many people in need. The old Anglo-Catholics were working priests. They labored and toiled for the poor, the mentally ill, society’s aliens and outcasts. They were priests of the Crucified Oneand so were consumed with the more visible and tangible forms of human suffering. They saw clearly that life in this world is more often than not an ongoing battle between suffering and resurrection, death and new life. They were honest priests who gave themselves back to God for other men and so had a real sense of the words Father into thy hands I commend my spirit. 
         
If we are true to God and ourselves, life is an ongoing struggle and battle to place our spirits into the hands of the living God. The struggle, suffering, spiritual death, and attempts at new life are woven together into the fabric of human existence.  That Christ suffered and died once for the sins of the whole world, does not mean that suffering and death cease to define human life. Suffering and death will be with us always. What Christ does, if indeed we are faithful to our Baptismal vows and take the reception of His Body and Blood seriously, is to change the nature of suffering and death so that they become for us necessary moments of sanctification and redemption. On a very level, if we suffer physically, we should offer it up to God in thanksgiving and gratitude and not hoard it selfishly with resentment and bitterness. If we have been another Cross to bear, we should likewise praise God for being members of Christ’s Body in which all forms of suffering and death lead to transformation and new life. Father into thy hands I commend my spirit. 

So we do well to remind ourselves that this is Good Friday. The Crucifixion of the Son of God is indeed, we must insist, beautiful. Why? Because suffering has been taken on by Love, taken into Love, and will be transformed and redeemed by Love, if only we begin to let it all happen within us. Father into thy hands I commend my spirit. Nothing need escape the Love of God. The love of God has been revealed to man as the forgiveness of sins in the Person of God’s own Son, Jesus Christ. We are invited into the uninterrupted expression of this forgiveness. The love of God has been revealed to man as the Word’s victory over sin, death, and Satan. We are invited into its permanent rule and governance in our lives. Apart from the Cross, the love of God can never be experienced truly. If we would become the sons of God, we must go to the Cross of Christ to suffer and to die. To love is to suffer, old Bishop Morse used to say. And what he meant was that to love one must enter the Crucifixion. The Crucifixion of Christ is our crucifixion.

Jesus remains pinned to the cross, but our souls have been awakened to new life. We know what we have done. We know that we have crucified Him over and over again in a vain attempt to protect and defend our own poor and impotent imitations of His love. But He loves us still. To embrace His love, we must welcome Him into our hearts. Once He enters, shall we allow Him to die in us? Shall we let him say, within us, Father into thy hands I commend my spirit –no longer an external cry made in past history, but an inward desire made in the present from the ground of our hearts? I shall live in you and you shall live in my, but not before I die in you as you die me. His death in us will become our death to sin, death, Satan, and ourselves. His new life in us cannot be formed and created until we allow His death to be present, active, and effectual. Only then, through Him, can we die not into death, but die into life, dying into the hands of our Father. (Lord I Believe, Cowley, p.60.) 

On this Good Friday, let us close with some words from Cardinal Von Balthasar that nicely illustrate, Father into thy hands I commend my spirit.

At the very periphery of this thanksgiving to God, it is legitimate to ask that, if God permits it, we may help the Lord to bear a tiny particle of the suffering of the Cross, of his inner anxiety and darkness, if it will contribute to reconciling the world with God. Jesus himself says that it is possible to help him bear it when he challenges us to take up our cross daily. Paul says the same in affirming that he suffers that portion of the Cross that Christ has reserved for him and for other Christians. When life is hard and apparently hopeless, we can be confident that this darkness of ours can be taken up into the great darkness of redemption through which the light of Easter dawns. And when what is required of us seems too burdensome, when the pains become unbearable and the fate we are asked to accept seems simply meaningless—then we have come very close to the man nailed on the Cross at the Place of the Skull, for he has already undergone this on our behalf and, moreover, in unimaginable intensity. When surrounded by apparent meaninglessness, therefore, we cannot ask to be given a calming sense of meaning; all we can do is wait and endure, quite still, like the Crucified, not seeing anything, facing the dark abyss of death. Beyond this abyss there waits for us something that, at present, we cannot see (nor can we even manage to regard it as true), namely, a further abyss of light in which all the world’s pain is treasured and cherished in the ever-open heart of God. Then we shall be allowed, like the Apostle Thomas, to put our hand into this gaping wound; feeling it, we shall realize in a very bodily way that God’s love transcends all human senses, and with the disciple we shall pray: “My Lord and my God.”

​Amen.

©wjsmartin 

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