Reflection / John Shaughnessy
First impressions of a friend, lasting impressions of our God
The name plate on the receptionist’s desk reflected a touch of wisdom.
It also made me smile.
“Director of First Impressions”
One of the reasons I smiled was because it reminded me of one of my favorite experiences connected to a first impression—the beginning of my friendship with the late Irish musician and singer Joe Wilson.
Just seconds after I met Joe for the first time, he challenged me to the depths of my Irish roots. He made the offer before I even settled into a chair inside his house, where I had come years ago as a young writer.
The mischief danced in Joe’s eyes as he leaned toward me and said, “I have a fine bottle of Irish whiskey that can’t be bought here in the States. And it’s the last bottle I have. Would you like a drink?”
Before I could answer, Joe winked and whispered, “Of course, once we take off the cork, we throw it away!”
As I considered the offer to drink a whole bottle of fine Irish whiskey with Joe, I also imagined the condition I would be in if I accepted his offer. I’d have to explain to my family, my bosses and the police that the reason I was missing for two days was because I had spent that time passed out in Joe’s music room.
That image made me politely decline Joe’s offer. Yet even though I didn’t accept it, I did take away something far more lasting. I mean, here was someone I had never met before and within minutes, he was offering me the best he had to give.
That moment led to our friendship. And my lasting impression of Joe is that he made my life richer by knowing him.
At the same time, we know our first impressions of others and their first impressions of us haven’t always been positive. We also know that first impressions can be deceiving. Then there are the first-impression times when our weaknesses blind us from seeing the goodness of the person in front of us.
So it was during Holy Thursday and Good Friday. And have there ever been so many defining first impressions in a whirlwind, world-changing 24 hours?
In meeting Jesus for the first time, Pilate’s fear leads him to wash his hands of Christ’s fate. Herod’s arrogance makes him view Jesus with contempt. A bloodthirsty crowd shouts for his death. Soldiers gamble for his clothes, never seeing the value of Christ himself. And one of the thieves being crucified next to Christ mocks him.
All this for our God who came into the world as one of us to save us.
Add in the scorn of the chief priest, the betrayal by Judas, the denial by Peter, and the abandonment by many of his closest friends, and it’s not a stretch to think that the mental and emotional weight of all those reactions was as torturous and life-sapping as the physical pain of the scourging, the carrying of the cross and the nailing of his hands and feet into it.
Of course, a few of the first impressions during that time were poignant. The women of Jerusalem wept for Christ. Veronica showed courage in trying to comfort him. Simon, sometimes portrayed as reluctant at first, stepped up to help, to be there for Christ.
The wonder of it all is that Christ did what he did—and endured all that he suffered—for everyone.
Not just for the Simons and Veronicas of the world, our faith tells us, but even for Pilate, Herod, the crowd, the soldiers, the chief priest and Judas.
And even for us with our fear, our arrogance, our indifference, our denial, our weaknesses of spirit and heart.
On Holy Thursday and Good Friday, we will remember a time when the world turned away from Christ, when most of the choices and the first impressions that humanity made were far from compassion and love.
Yet even as he hung on the cross in excruciating pain, Christ offered his compassion to the good thief.
It’s the ultimate first impression, part of Christ’s incredible lasting impression on the world. An offer of mercy, forgiveness and love.
Then and now, Christ has made a choice. Instead of walking away from us, he chooses to welcome us, embrace us, lift us, carry us and offer his best to us.
What is the lasting impression we hope to give him in return?
(John Shaughnessy is the assistant editor of The Criterion. He can be reached at jshaughnessy@archindy.org.) †