And for a whole day, Jesus carries the weight of the universe.
He bears the whole weight of injustice.
Jesus carries the weight of the whole human condition on that cross. He bears our suffering and our pain.
In between two thieves, sentenced for Barabbas’s crime and not his own, Jesus takes on the weight of sin and the horror of war. He bears the weight of all of humanity’s destruction nailed against that tree.
And when I am reminded today of what humans do to themselves as I watch the news or scroll through an app on my phone, I remember that Jesus carried the weight of it, too.
Jesus carries the weight of all sin on that cross, and he takes up the responsibility of mending our shattered universe. The stain of sin, as far-reaching as it is in my life even today, has already been worn by Jesus.
All the horror and oppression and wrongness humanity experiences, and all of our grief and pain and anger, Jesus carried the weight of it on that cross.
I cannot imagine bearing the agony of what we humans have always done to ourselves — the agony of murder and hatred, of greed and blood lust; the agony of violence and war, both outwardly and inwardly.
But instead of turning away and leaving us to our own devices, God comes down to earth and bears our agony for us. He bears the agony of two world wars. He bears the agony of atomic bombs. He bears the agony of oppression and tyranny. He bears the agony of our inability to make lasting peace, with God and each other.
Jesus bears the agony of what we do to each other, and on the cross, he takes it upon himself to make it all right again.
And when Jesus bleeds, he loves.