Did you ever stop to wonder why today is called “Good
Friday?”
Not
Bad Friday? It’s
Good Friday.
And did you know that this liturgy today
is
not meant to be gloomy, sad and depressing?
No, it’s meant to be solemn for sure, but not mournful.
The liturgy is designed to be reflective,
giving
a time to ponder,
to
ponder how such a death brings life and hope,
how
such a death opens the way
for
healing and reconciliation in human lives,
how
such a death is glory.
Yet
this is the hardest part of the week we call holy:
staying
present at the cross, with the crucifixion, with death itself.
But
this staying present is part of our devotion and response in gratitude
for
God’s gracious love expressed so incredibly for us.
At the
time, there on that Friday, for the disciples
this
horrendous crucifixion was devastating beyond belief.
For those who had been traveling with Jesus,
listening
and taking in and pondering what he had been saying,
watching
how he interacted
with
all the various sorts and conditions of humanity that came to him,
seeing
the healings, the transformations taking place in people’s lives,
for these witnesses,
how
could it be that it was all now destroyed in this cruel injustice and death?
For the disciples the political forces that ruled the
world had smashed
what
was the most beautiful, generous and loving gift of a person
that
had ever been.
Their world was shattered.
They could not yet see how Jesus was putting
on the image of the Forsaken One,
how
he put on every dimension of suffering of mind and body,
how
intentional Jesus was about walking straight into his death with all that.
St.
Anselm had written about that, saying
you
can’t do that unless you are God;
you
can’t take that on unless you are God.
That’s the mystery and the beauty and the goodness of the
Cross.
Jesus had told his disciples,
“If
you have seen me you have seen the Father.”
That is the image of God – God on the Cross –
and
not many get this,
even
though there is the mercy and love that draws us in.
How is it that this is resisted?
Our
persistent resistance to this good, beautiful truth!
Just a few hours before the crucifixion Jesus had said to
his disciples,
“If
you knew where I was going you would rejoice.”
Let’s
just look for a couple of minutes at what is happening
in
the Passion story according to John.
In
this account in particular you can see
that
Jesus is the only one in control.
He
is a calm center in the midst of power struggles, mockery, and cruelty.
Everyone
else exhibits that they really have no control over what is going on,
that there is great failure on their part
to achieve
what they want to do.
The
disciples have no apparent control over their drowsiness;
they
fail to stay awake.
And
then they all run away, fleeing for their lives.
Judas
is doomed to play his role as betrayer
despite
whatever his motivation and intentions were.
In
that strange scene in the garden, as John’s Gospel tells it,
the
band that comes to arrest Jesus at Gethsemane
is
knocked to the ground by the force of the word
spoken by
Jesus, his simple statement: “I AM.”
Only
when Jesus purposely gives them a second chance
can
they lay hands on him and take him away.
Peter,
in spite of his earlier protestations,
fails
in his ability to keep from denying his Lord.
The
high priests and Sanhedrin
can’t make a credible case against Jesus.
So
they have to revert to political pressure
to get
Pilate to cooperate.
Pilate
being backed into a corner, discovers he is not so powerful
and
he can’t engage with Jesus regarding Truth.
Then
Pilate tries but fails to set Jesus free.
It
is Jesus who acts, who is in control,
who accomplishes all that needed to be done,
right down
to the last detail described in the ancient texts
about the
Servant, the Lamb of God.
And
then the still point – that moment when he breathed out the last breath.
It
is he who chooses when his last moment is, when he dies.
He
completes all,
and breathes out his breath
and gives up
his spirit.
The
scene at the cross now becomes somewhat surreal.
His
side is pierced.
Blood
and water gush out
spraying
those standing there.
The
witness giving the account of this tells the truth.
This
is baptism in his death.
Death provides
release of his presence
empowered
to baptize with fire and the Holy Spirit
without
the limits of the mortal body.
All that
afflicts, that contracts, that inspires a sense of poverty,
that
leads to violence, deception of self and others,
that
promotes false, self-serving interest,
abuse,
exploitation, war, addiction –
destroyed in death.
Jesus dies the
death of all that.
And in his dying all in us that is identified
with
such a world of spiritual confusion, suffering and self-destructiveness,
is
drawn into his body on the cross.
All that
tragic evil dies there with the death of his body.
He is on the cross in our condition of world-identified humanity.
He is on the cross performing a creative act.
For the death of Jesus is the absorption of the sacrificial gift of
suffering
into
the heart of God.
Jesus takes our humanity in its fragmented, self-destructive state
into
the divine presence always whole, eternally unbounded and creative.
This is what we need to recognize:
by
the crucifixion and death of Jesus,
as
we, and all the world are drawn into and unite with his death,
the way opens to embrace the eternal radiance of divine love,
which
is God.
So
today – Good Friday –
is not just about a morbid reminder of a
particularly gruesome death,
for which we
ought to grieve
and feel
deep remorse and penance,
but
an occasion for deep devotion, gratitude, thanksgiving even
for
the blessed wood of the Cross.
Hymn
166 Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle
a
hymn by Fortunatus, one of the very earliest hymns of the Church,
Verse
4:
Faithful cross! above all other,
one and only noble tree!
None in foliage, none in blossom,
none in fruit thy peer may be:
sweetest wood and sweetest iron!
sweetest weight is hung on thee.
This
is the glory of the cross,
the
precious weight that hangs upon it,
precious
beyond all counting,
the
grain of wheat falling into the earth and dying
producing
the fruit of salvation and resurrection
and
new life for us all.
In
the limitations of our own personal life perspective
focused
on our immediate issues
we miss the hugeness – it is beyond anything
we know how to ask.
Would
that we could see more clearly
how
what we here suffer in the routine of daily life
often
has more to do with our attitudes and presumptions
than
with the actual reality of our situations.
Would
that our eyes were opened
so
that we could see how much we are spared, how blessed we are.
Then
we would sink on our knees before the cross,
the
rude representation of the suffering of God,
and
express from the heart our love and devotion,
our
thanks and our acceptance of God’s love.
At
the foot of the cross let it all drop away
and
worship the glory with grateful hearts in wonder, love and praise.
