I received a belated graduation gift in the mail this past week. The gift-giver had packed it snugly in a cardboard box, wrapped it in newspaper, and surrounded it with 'packing peanuts.' A lovely card of congratulations had been penned and was visible when I unboxed it.
The gift is a chalice and paten communion set. I received a simple but elegant cup for the juice at communion and a small plate that holds the bread. The communion set is from a potter's workshop, and its sheen is rich in earth tones.
And it arrived broken.
The stem on the chalice suffered a clean and decisive break while in transit. The set, while beautiful and wonderfully intentioned, is unusable.
Although I'm disappointed that the gift arrived damaged, the broken pottery feels appropriate for this season. 2020 has been a year of brokenness. Our plans have taken a hit. Our mental and emotional health have experienced stress-fractures. Our country and our local community have become increasingly fragmented. Our best intentions have become subverted, and we have become cut off from sources of joy and fulfillment. Disappointment has become one of our closest companions.
2020 has taken its toll on us.
In addition to the external hardships we have faced this year, we feel broken. Or, at least I do. A broken chalice sums it pretty nicely, actually.
In any other context, brokenness would be seen as a liability, something to avoid at all costs. We know well that things that are broken lose their usefulness or value. However, Jesus's life teaches us that God redeems brokenness. Jesus, ever the fulfillment of the prophet's image of a suffering servant, becomes broken out of love for us. The culmination of Jesus's brokenness occurs at the Passion, but we know that Jesus had been bruised and cut up long before he shared the Passover meal with his disciples. Jesus experienced disappointment for the way things turned out, and suffered the loss of support from those he trusted most. He had been stung by rebuke, become estranged from members of his own family, and had stood at the crossroads of contentious disputes on many occasions. Jesus, himself, was broken.
Jesus freely acknowledged his brokenness and identified it as a point of reference for when his disciples remember him. In breaking bread at the last supper, Jesus prophesies how his body will be broken. In blessing the cup, Jesus tells how his life will be poured out. For Jesus, and for his followers, brokenness is not a curse. It's the point at which God's redemption begins.
We all have broken places. Yes, even those of us who choose to deny it. Awareness of our brokenness, our bruises, and our scars reminds us that we are human. Our woundedness, however hurt we may feel, can be redeemed by an all-powerful, all-loving God. Although we cannot forecast how our bones will mend, our reflections on our brokenness can yield empathy for others and ultimately make us more Christ-like.
In Japan, kintsukuroi is the ancient practice of restoring broken pottery so that fractures are healed, and a piece's function redeemed. Instead of disguising the fractures and erasing the imperfections, kintsukuroi repairs the broken pieces with gold to highlight the beauty that accompanies a history of suffering. The golden lines of repair that bear witness to the brokenness only deepens its appeal. *
In Christ Jesus, God mends our broken pieces with the refining fire of love and sacrifice. The Apostle Paul bears witness to this truth when he says, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Yes, just as Jesus is an extraordinary example of kintsukuroi and how God can make all things new, the chalice can be repaired. But, it may be a more powerful reminder of what God can do in our lives if I leave it as it is.
*The art of kintsukuroi is described by Georgia Pellegrini in a Wall Street Journal article, “Out of His Shell,” in 2016.
