“Trust the down,” Richard Rohr writes, “and God will take care of the up.”
We hear today in the letter to the Philippians an ancient Christian hymn that sings of Jesus’ descent from his divine platform: being born in human likeness, being found in human form, emptying himself of divinity. He becomes a slave, penetrating the depths and dregs of human experience. There is nothing human that is alien to him. Jesus comes down to where we are, so that we no longer have to climb our way to God.
Remaining true to his human lot, today’s story ends with Jesus dead: no last-minute rescue. But (spoiler alert) God will again bend to lift him, to raise him up, to exalt him. Despite appearances, he was never beyond the Father’s reach—and neither, he died to show us, are we.
“Trust the down, and God will take care of the up.”
Escuchamos hoy en la lectura a los filipenses un antiguo himno cristiano que canta de la bajada de Jesús de su lugar divino: se hizo semejante a los hombres, se puso uno de ellos, ocultó su dividad. Toma la condición de siervo, penetrando la profundidad de la experiencia humana. No hay nada humana que le sea ajeno a él. Jesús baja a donde nosotros estamos, para que ya no tengamos que subir hasta Dios.
Fiel a su humanidad, la historia de hoy concluye con la muerte de Jesús: no hay rescate al último minuto. Sin embargo, la muerte no es victoriosa. Dios lo levanta, lo sube, lo eleva. A pesar de las aparencias, Jesús nunca fue más allá del alcance del Padre—y tampoco nosotros. Su muerte lo prueba.