And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.
-- Matthew 27:51
When I think of curtains - and who doesn't constantly think of curtains? - two things come into my mind's eye. One is the excitement of the curtains being drawn back at the beginning of a play or musical. The orchestra has been a cacophony of tuning noises, then all goes silent. Suddenly the silence gives way to the first note of the score, and the curtains are elegantly drawn back to reveal the lavish set that lay behind.
The other picture is the ceiling to floor curtains hung on large picture windows separating the light of the sun from the comfortable semi-darkness of the living room in our house.
Curtains exist for two purposes: Separation and revelation.
A massive curtain hung in the first-century temple. The thick and ornately woven tapestry was known as the veil. It was a curtain of separation that hung between the Holy Place, where men could enter, and the Holy of Holies, where God symbolically dwealt; and only the High Priest could enter once a year on The Day of Atonement.
The veil symbolized the separation that exists between God and mankind. He is holy. We are flawed. As a curtain of separation it blocked his glorious light from our shadow-lives.
But something happened on the day of Christ's death. When Jesus shouted his grisly triumph from the cross and then died, the veil was torn completely in half from top to bottom.
God did the tearing from his end. We were (are) powerless to remove the curtain of separation. And in one dramatic moment, the veil that had separated became the drawn-back curtains of revelation.
Men and women have tried to tear this veil from bottom to top. They have failed. We still make the attempt - though the only curtains now are those of our own choosing and fabrication. We grab the bottom and try to tear skyward by being good enough. It does not rip. We put all our force into trying to be religious enough. But rather than tearing, the curtains of our making wrap around us. We try to hide in them the fact that we are flawed, scarred and scared. Oddly, these man-made curtains begin to restrict. They begin to suffocate life. And curtains separate.
When Christ sacrificed himself the veil was removed. The heavenly orchestra had gone silent. And though it would take three days for us to hear the music, the curtains had been drawn back. Love beyond imagination was revealed. Joy beyond expectation took the stage. Life without limit stood in the spotlight.
That which separated was gone.
God, help me not weave curtains that separate. You are the veil-ripper.
For now...
D
The other picture is the ceiling to floor curtains hung on large picture windows separating the light of the sun from the comfortable semi-darkness of the living room in our house.
Curtains exist for two purposes: Separation and revelation.
A massive curtain hung in the first-century temple. The thick and ornately woven tapestry was known as the veil. It was a curtain of separation that hung between the Holy Place, where men could enter, and the Holy of Holies, where God symbolically dwealt; and only the High Priest could enter once a year on The Day of Atonement.
The veil symbolized the separation that exists between God and mankind. He is holy. We are flawed. As a curtain of separation it blocked his glorious light from our shadow-lives.
But something happened on the day of Christ's death. When Jesus shouted his grisly triumph from the cross and then died, the veil was torn completely in half from top to bottom.
God did the tearing from his end. We were (are) powerless to remove the curtain of separation. And in one dramatic moment, the veil that had separated became the drawn-back curtains of revelation.
Men and women have tried to tear this veil from bottom to top. They have failed. We still make the attempt - though the only curtains now are those of our own choosing and fabrication. We grab the bottom and try to tear skyward by being good enough. It does not rip. We put all our force into trying to be religious enough. But rather than tearing, the curtains of our making wrap around us. We try to hide in them the fact that we are flawed, scarred and scared. Oddly, these man-made curtains begin to restrict. They begin to suffocate life. And curtains separate.
When Christ sacrificed himself the veil was removed. The heavenly orchestra had gone silent. And though it would take three days for us to hear the music, the curtains had been drawn back. Love beyond imagination was revealed. Joy beyond expectation took the stage. Life without limit stood in the spotlight.
That which separated was gone.
God, help me not weave curtains that separate. You are the veil-ripper.
For now...
D
