At the very centre of the Temple of Jerusalem was the Holy of Holies, God’s throne room, sealed off from human entry by a solid curtain. Only the high priest could enter, only once a year, on the Day of Atonement, to where God dwelt unapproachably in impenetrable darkness. The Passion stories in Mark and Matthew tell us that when Jesus died, “the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.” This detail provides the central image for today’s reading from the Letter to Hebrews.

We read in a number of places in Scripture of people tearing their clothes in grief, reminding us that the Hebrew people understood a torn cloth as a sign of mourning. When Jesus died, God grieved. And just so we stand before the cross and mourn the death of Our Lord, not with torn clothes, but with hearts torn open.

The torn curtain has other shades of meaning, as we see in Hebrews, whose write clearly saw the tearing of the curtain as the opening of the holy of holies. It is a sign that Jesus’ death—the tearing of his own flesh—made it possible for us to enter God’s sanctuary. In other words, the cross opens the way for us to God’s presence. Being in God’s presence is not just for a high priest; it is not just once a year; and it is not solely for the taking away of sins. Every person, every day, and in every way may know the presence of God. By the tearing of the curtain, Jesus has brought all humankind to the foot of the throne of God.

The night before his death, Jesus had prayed to be spared this cup he was called to drink, but in the end he freely submitted to his Father’s will. His mission led to and through the cross. Our mission—our walk with God, our work in this world—must likewise take us to the cross, embracing it in grief, and willingly letting go of the world’s embrace. In the midst of grief, we proclaim God’s victory, just as Jesus cried “It is finished!”

The mystery of the cross is the mystery of a love that gives all—God’s own son, the perfect Passover lamb, sacrificed for the good of all humanity. It is a love beyond comprehension—a true mystery, in the sense in which the Orthodox scholar Father Kallistos Ware wrote this:

In the Christian context, we do not mean by a “mystery” merely that which is baffling and mysterious, an enigma or insoluble problem. A mystery is, on the contrary, something that is revealed for our understanding, but which we never understand exhaustively because it leads into the depth or the darkness of God. The eyes are closed—but they are also opened.
                                                                 (from ‘The Orthodox Way’)

In this profound and mysterious way, God opens our eyes to his grace and love as Jesus closes his eyes in death, allowing us to approach God “in full assurance of faith.”

The cross makes it possible, giving us confidence to “enter the sanctuary.” But what does that mean in everyday life? The epistle writer gives us one very strong hint:

…let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds…encouraging one another…

We had a vote in this city last week, in which 57% of Brandon voters declared themselves to be against the establishment of a casino in this city. Casino proponents were very disappointed at the result, some of them having declared it to be the only hope for the revitalization of our downtown. While a majority of voters may have disagreed, we have not yet heard many constructive alternative suggestions.

As members of the Body of Christ, redeemed through Jesus’ death on the cross, we have a responsibility to work for the coming of God’s kingdom here and now, making our world a better place to live, a place which gives glory to God through the work and witness of its people—beginning with where we live. Let us therefore “provoke one another to love and good deeds.” Let us not merely oppose what we perceive as evil, but work for the building up of a community of love, peace, and justice.

To say to another person, “God loves you” is to take upon ourselves the obligation to demonstrate that love, making God’s love real and immediate. We have our one great example in Jesus, who came proclaiming God’s kingdom, and then gave everything he had to bring that love to the world.

Today we come before the cross in grief, standing in silence, our souls torn open to God as the curtain of the temple was torn open to us. Let us not be transfixed by our grief. Let us not seek to apportion blame. Let us not recoil in denial. Let us rather let God’s grief inform our grief, and let God’s love define our love. And let us go forth to continue the work of our Lord, proclaiming and building the Kingdom of God—here, now, by the work of our hands, and with God as our helper.

Jesus defeated the forces of evil and darkness by the power of God’s love. He calls us now to be the agents of that power in this world.

The curtain has been torn in two.

Thanks be to God!