This is an excerpt from an essay by Fleming Rutledge that puts me in my place:
“Sally…told some of her friends about an experience she’d had in a department store. In order to appreciate this, you have to picture the department store and you have to picture Sally. The store in question is fashionable and elegant. Sally herself is fashionable and elegant, the epitome of aristocratic dignity. She bought an expensive blouse at the store and took it with her in a shopping bag. Unfortunately, the saleswoman had forgotten to remove the white plastic device that was attached to the blouse. When Sally tried to go through the door, the alarms went off and the security forces pounced upon her. “Oh, my dear, how horrible for you!” cried her friends, listening to the story, “It must have been so distressing! Did you call your husband? Did you have your identification? Did you call your lawyer? Did you ask to see the president of the store?
“Oh,” said Sally, “that wasn’t a problem. I didn’t have any trouble establishing who I was. That wasn’t the bad part. The really bad part was the feeling of being treated like a common criminal!”
Those were her exact words. Like a common criminal. This is the woman who won’t go to the church in her neighborhood because it has a figure of Jesus on the cross and she doesn’t want to look at it.
Sally was able to tell the department store who she was; and yet the truth is that she does not know who she is. I tried to explain to Sally that the feeling of shame she had felt was a clue to the meaning of the death of Jesus, who was arrested like a common criminal, exhibited to the public like a common criminal, executed like a common criminal. I was unable to put this across. She does not believe herself to be guilty of anything. Wronged, yes; misunderstood, yes; undervalued, yes; imperfect, perhaps; but not guilty, certainly not sinful. Because she believes herself to be one of the “good” people, because she could never, never commit a small sin like shoplifting, she cannot see the connection between Jesus’ death as a common criminal and herself.
Sally could not hear the message of Good Friday…but perhaps you can hear it today, on their behalf as well as your own. When you reflect upon Jesus Christ hanging on the cross in shame, you understand the depth and weight of human sin. How do we measure the size of a fire? By the number of firefighters and fire engines sent to fight against it. How do we measure the seriousness of a medical condition? By the amount of risk the doctors take in prescribing dangerous antibiotics or surgical procedures. How do we measure the gravity of sin and the incomparable vastness of God’s love for us? By looking at the magnitude of what God has done for us in Jesus, who became like a common criminal for our sake and in our place.
When you really come to know the unconditional love and forgiveness of Jesus, then you will also come to know the depth of your own participation in sin. And at the very same moment (this is the glory of Good Friday) you will come to know the true reality, the true joy and gladness, of the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Rutledge, Fleming. “The Common Criminal” in Bread and Wine – Readings Maryknoll , NY
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