It is Finished
He came unto his own.
From everlasting, before foundations, space, time, and energy, he was. This Word, however glorious he was, flung out quarks, lepsons, neutrinos, bosons, small, small speaks of elaborate nothingness creating myriads of myriads of galaxies spanning trillions of light years, birthing untold suns and moons and planets. Within this monolithic, majestic creation he nurtured trees and seas and lands and rocks on an elfin planet not far from an ordinary star in an ordinary galaxy. There he imagined dogs and moose and ducks and quacks and roars and chirps. He gushed over idiosyncrasy and personality. And he gloried in man, son of his own materiality, the crowning achievement of all he had done.
But the man shook his fist, sought his own way. He changed that glory into his own trope; his light morphed into a shadow of death.
YHWH sought a man. A man who would bear witness of a coming light. He found him in a burning wilderness. The Lord God cut a covenant and swore by himself, for there was none greater.
I will make thee a great nation and I will bless thee, and make thy name great, and thou shalt be a blessing: and I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: above all, in you shall all the families of the earth be blessed.
The Lord God showed himself in fire and shekinah to the seed. He gave her Law and called her to blazon his goodness to the ends of earth. But she rose up to play. She wasted his prophets and kept his promise afar off. She turned his Temple into a shrine of vengeance. Avenge me! Put an end to my haters. Destroy them that afflict my soul, for I am yours, the bride of the true God.
The Word drained himself to save that which was lost. Born of a woman, born under Law, he took the form of a slave, one of his own.
But his own received him not.
He warned her through tears. If you had understood, you, even today, the things belonging to your peace. But you would not. And now they are hid from your eyes. Your house? Godforsaken. For now are the days when you shall lay even with the ground—even your children. No stone will be left unturned because you flouted what the Lord God had vouchsafed to you.
They gnashed their teeth at him and tore their clothes. They seized him and rooked up a trial. What is it that you’ve preached of our Law? of our Temple? Ask them that heard me. We have Law—you ought to die because you made yourself out to be the son of God!
Death not enough. Crucifixion. He that is hanged is cursed of God. She who howled at the salvation of the nations would curse the One who sought to save her.
Write not, The King of the Jews. Write, he said I am King of the Jews. I have written what I have written.
Slung over Golgotha, the Law bore down on the Lamb. My God! My God! Why are you so far from me? from the words of my roaring? So much so he no longer resembled a man. I am a worm, and no man! Smitten of God, despised of all.
They laughed him to scorn. They wagged their heads and shot out the lip. He trusted in YHWH. You, Christ! King of Israel! Come down from that cross! Then we will believe.
Yet it pleased YHWH to crush him. The travail of his soul, the heaping of sin within would see the end of a death-doomed priesthood, endless immolations, a gospel shut up to hearts of stone. Resurrection: many sons into glory. Pressed and brimmed, he exhaled. “It is finished.” Head bowed, he handed over his spirit.