Reclaiming hope in sorrow
Commentary
Object:
The names are burned into our recent memories: Columbine, Aurora, Newtown. Such memories can go back further to Gacey, Dahmer, and McVey; and go global to El Salvador, Bosnia, Cambodia, and Germany. Sorrow is in the air we breathe, as reflected in the bittersweet line of a forgotten poem: "It's a wonderful world to be born into if you don't mind a touch of hell now and then."
The followers of Jesus went through their own Lancaster County (Amish schoolhouse shooting in 2006) at Golgotha when on a dark Friday Jesus was hung out to dry in the wind, like so much wet black-and-white clothing on a strung-out line in the backyard.
In the account of Jesus' death there are striking similarities between the four canonical gospels; there are also some interesting differences. On the one hand, in all four Jesus is mocked, an inscription is made, others are crucified with him, followers of Jesus (mostly women) observe, Jesus dies, and Joseph of Arimathea offers his tomb. On the other hand, the differences are worthy of note.
First, there is no consistency as to what Jesus said on the cross, if indeed he was able to say anything at all. Christian piety of the Tenebrae service has gathered the "seven last words of Jesus" from the four gospels, which each used only selected words for their particular purposes in their gospel account.
Second, Simon of Cyrene has a role in the synoptics carrying the cross, but John deliberately makes the point that Jesus carried the cross by himself.
Third, there are time references in all four gospels, but Mark notes the crucifixion at 9 a.m., whereas John places it at noon (and there are not even time zones to contend with).
Fourth, whereas the synoptic accounts mention the curtain of the temple being torn in two, John gives no reference to it. Only Matthew mentions such notable occurrences as an earthquake and the dead rising. Strange! One would think everybody would keep memory of that!
Fifth, only John records the piercing of Jesus' side after death, but at the same time does not report any word from the attending centurion as to his confession of sorts. (Synoptic manuscripts differ as to what he said: God's Son, a son of God, innocent/righteous.)
From ancient times, the church has taken all that is written in the gospels about that inglorious Friday and invested it into gathering experiences to remember, to grieve, to reflect, to confess... and to hope. Our posture is that of anyone standing beneath a cross: we look up. We look up, not in despair and anguish but in faith and hope, trusting in the crucified one to be for us the revelation of the very heart of God.
It has been said, "Sorrow looks back, worry looks around, faith looks up." So, in faith, we look up to Jesus on the cross on this Friday and place our hope in him, despite the tragedy and sorrow with which we live, discovering through a trusting hope how we can call this Friday GOOD.
Isaiah 52:13--53:12
Would it be fair to say that Isaiah is the most popular/accessible prophet in the Old Testament? He certainly is the longest. Handel used more texts out of Isaiah than any other biblical book in writing the Messiah. In the New Revised Common Lectionary during the seasons of Advent and Christmas anticipating and celebrating Jesus' birth, Isaiah is opened up more than any other Old Testament book for the first reading. Now, in this season of Lent, once Holy Week begins to anticipate and grieve the death of Jesus, Isaiah once again dominates the textual landscape to give understanding for what is happening.
Accepted scholarship dates this portion of Isaiah as post-exilic (Second Isaiah). The first portion of Isaiah (chapters 1-39) are from the prophet's hand during the latter portion of the eighth century BCE and are written under the shadow of the Assyrian Empire. The northern kingdom was destroyed at that time, never to be heard from again. By the beginning of the sixth century BCE, the southern kingdom was carried off into exile by the newest bullies on the block, the empire of Babylon. When the Medo-Persian Empire ascended with their policies of repatriation, the people of God were allowed to return and rebuild their walls and towns and replant their fields.
The soothing words of Second Isaiah warm the people's hearts: "Comfort, oh comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and declare to her that her term of service is over, that her iniquity is expiated; for she has received at the hand of the Lord double for all her sin" (Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures, The Jewish Publication Society). In prophetic tradition, Isaiah explains that the time of judgment is over. Punishment has been rendered and the trauma of exile was the price paid to expiate the sins of the people who brought about the judgment in the first place. Could the "double for all her sin" refer to the affliction visited upon the people two-times-over, first by the Assyrians and then by the Babylonians? The northern kingdom was crushed and the southern kingdom was decimated. Why? Ask any prophet of any age and they will tell you. But the words of First Isaiah sum up the answer as well as any: "They have rebelled against me" (1:2). The rebellion was evidenced in idolatry and injustice, basically breaking the first and second tables of the law (Ten Commandments). For this they had to pay the price, and they did. It is not that they were pardoned in the sense of a presidential pardon for a guilty individual so that they do not have to go to jail (vacating the conviction). Remember President Clinton's pardon of Marc Rich for tax evasion to the tune of $50 million and also President George H.W. Bush's pardon of Secretary of Defense Casper Weinberger (under President Reagan) who was convicted in the Iran-Contra affair.
The comfort offered by the introductory words of Second Isaiah conveys the hope that a new day is dawning. And indeed it was. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah record the rebuilding that occurred, especially of the temple. Although there would indeed be rough times ahead, the people were no longer in exile. In fact, there would be a time in the not-too-distant future (167 BCE) when a revolt against the then-overlords (the Seleucids, northern heirs of the Alexandrian empire) by the Maccabees would establish the people of Israel as an autonomous, free entity -- at least until the Romans were invited in to rectify some matters that had gotten out of hand. Of course, they never left, and when Jesus came upon the scene it was Roman justice that would determine his ugly fate.
This is the context in which our text for Good Friday is to be read. On the one hand, it could be determined that the "suffering servant" described so poetically and profoundly in these verses is none other than Israel, the people of God, personified in the image of the suffering servant. As one reads this text in this light, one can just see the beat-up people of no repute and no regard, their comeliness taken from them by the bullies of the battlefields. They were bruised -- he was bruised -- because of the sins of the community ("our iniquities"). It was to be expected that God would "visit upon him (the community who serves Yahweh -- at least supposed to!) the guilt of all of us" (Tanakh). The majority of Jewish scholars throughout the ages (BCE and CE) have interpreted the suffering servant in terms of the community, not in terms of an individual.
On the other hand, there was developing during this period of time a notion that the Christian community attached itself to, that the suffering servant would be a messiah, an "anointed one" (individual) by God to bring about God's rule (justice) and glory (peace) on earth. He would be God's mighty warrior (The zealots liked this aspect!) who would champion God's purposes in his person. When the zealots and others who truly believed that God through messiah would "move into the neighborhood" (as The Message so graphically portrays it) to clean it up, shape it up, and render it up to God did not see this happen in Jesus, they were disappointed, to say the least. The disciples themselves simply went back to their fishing (the gospel of John) or gathered in a room without a real sense of purpose other than to pray (Acts). And this after the accounts of the resurrection!
Once the Christian community was sparked by the Spirit of God (Pentecost) to see that indeed, in Jesus, God was working divine purposes on earth, they revisited texts like this one in Second Isaiah and saw new meaning for any individual to grasp. Sin -- which everyone deals with -- is now dealt with in a vicarious way. On the cross, which is the whole nation's history on one square foot of ground, God was messaging good news to the world: sins can be forgiven, death can be overcome. It doesn't all happen nice and neat, orderly and sweet. The ugly death of Jesus (messiah, God's anointed one) becomes the consequence of our sins, and through it God takes our guilt and renders us healed and whole (Isaiah 53:5). Spirituality for the community of Israel becomes the individual spirituality of a new community of believers in Christ (messiah).
This Friday, like the sufferings of the servant in Isaiah, is something from which we might like to hide our eyes. It seems at first to be dry ground. What good could come of it? Yet, God roots his love here before our eyes to see and believe. There may still be hope for the community of humanity when I, as an individual, can see the GOOD in the happenings of this day.
Hebrews 10:16-25
The letter to the Hebrews is written against the backdrop of the Aaronic priesthood, the Levitical caste, and the animal sacrificial system of religious practice for the Hebrews, the house of Jacob/Israel, redeemed from Egypt. The canonical writings of the Torah are set within the context of the Exodus and wilderness wanderings under the authority of Moses.
There were several kinds of offerings established to guide the people in their worship of God: sin, guilt, burnt and peace offerings; cereal, incense, oil, and a variety of animals were used. The book of Leviticus records detailed instructions as to how all this was to be prepared and performed. The tabernacle, made of curtains, was the portable place that served as the ritual center for the assembly.
The Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) was the highest holy day, held annually. The date may vary from as early as September 14 to as late as October 14, remembering that the day begins at sundown the day before. The priest and assistants were to be purified with several water baths before and after the ritual: the priest before, to be ritually pure to perform the rite; the assistants, after they had burnt unused parts of the animals outside the community. This purification was necessary for the assistants to rejoin the assembly.
The focus of the sacrifice was atonement because of the sins of the people. A bull, two goats, and a ram were used in the ceremony. The bull's blood provided atonement for the priest (originally Aaron) and his household, the Ark, the altar, and the tent of meeting itself. The blood of one of the goats was sprinkled in like fashion to expiate the sins of the people. The priest would then place his hands on the head of the second goat and confess the sins of the people. This goat, the scapegoat, was then sent away from the assembly into the wilderness as a symbol of the removal of the sins of the people. The ram was used for a burnt offering (perhaps as a way of remembering the ram caught in the thicket which was then used as a sacrifice by Abraham instead of his son Isaac).
The blood of the animal sacrifice was a symbol of the life that was taken, for the life is in the blood. The animal's life was taken so the human life could remain: life for life. The blood was used ceremonially and was never to be used as drink. This is also the reason why meat is to be prepared in kosher fashion; animals that died naturally and still had the blood in the meat were not to be eaten.
All this, and more, is in the mind of the writer of the letter to the Hebrews as well as the readers of this letter, which is really a treatise on how Jesus fulfills the theological and ceremonial purposes of the animal sacrifice system, himself serving as the priest over God's people -- the new house of Israel, the Christian assembly, gathered under this new covenant of Jesus' blood.
The writer of this treatise borrows words from Jeremiah, who in his time was speaking a word of hope in what appeared to be a hopeless situation. The Babylonians were overrunning Jerusalem; there was no peace in the land, no peace in the hearts of the people. True to prophetic tradition, Jeremiah points to the source of the problem: the sins of the people. Though punishment was the order of the day, it would only be through a word of forgiveness that the relationship could be restored. God would do what only God could do and offer the forgiveness that would remove the ultimate punishment from over the heads of God's people.
The Christian community experienced in Jesus the shedding of blood that would have salutary effect in restoring relationship with God. The blood of the battlefield and the blood of the rituals have now been replaced with the blood of the innocent Lamb. The heart of God (the sanctuary) is now open for any to enter by virtue of faith in Jesus. The holy of holies is no longer hidden; the presence of God is manifest openly for all to see with the eyes of faith.
The Friday of crucifixion becomes the Day of Atonement for the Christian; therefore, this dreadful Friday becomes GOOD. In a verse previous to our text (Hebrews 10:14), the writer claims that the single blood offering of Jesus on the cross is perfect for all time -- is effective for all time -- to work the mercy of God's love in the life of the sinner.
Ritual baths are no longer necessary for religious behavior. The Christian is washed clean, presumably in baptism (okay, one ritual bath!), and by faith in Jesus can claim a God-given pureness that prepares and empowers one for a daily life of love and good works.
The sense of and need for assembly is affirmed, for we are not cast out into the wilderness of life alone like the goat for Azazel. Just as the assembly of old was called together for memorial, ritual practices (priestly tradition) and for instruction (for example, Josiah's reform in the seventh century BCE guided by the reading of Deuteronomy), so too are Christians called together/to gather, to "stir up one another"... "encouraging one another" to live as disciples of Jesus. We are gathered in assembly and then scattered upon the fields of life to sow faith, hope, and love.
[It should be noted that rabbinic Judaism, as it developed against the background of the destruction of the second temple in 70 CE, set aside the animal sacrifice system and developed the importance of the synagogue and the assembly of the faithful around the devotion to Torah, interpreted by rabbinic tradition to help Jews who no longer had a central place for worship (the temple) to practice the ceremonies described in Torah and who were scattered around the world (Diaspora). This is a creative adaptation by a religious community passing through the contingencies of history.]
John 18:1--19:42
The four canonical gospels have been called "a passion narrative with an extended introduction." This makes sense when one observes that the one consistent factor in these gospels is Holy Week -- from Palm Sunday through Easter. Christmas (the most popular Christian holy day) does not get the same coverage. Only Matthew and Luke have a story to tell about the birth of Jesus. Mark does not even mention it and John encrypts it in logos language. Although the events of Holy Week themselves are reported differently in some aspects, yet each gospel reads like a laser beam pointed to the cross and the empty tomb.
The outline of the passion narrative in John consists of betrayal, denial, assault, ridicule, rejection, crucifixion, burial -- all in one day! -- then resurrection appearances. Note that the resurrection itself is not reported as an event in the same way the crucifixion is reported. We can see the soldiers, the disciples, the sword, the chief priest, Pilate, the crowd, the cross, the plague, Jesus, his mother, the spear, the wrapping of Jesus' body and the laying of his body in the tomb, which we see occupied now and stone-sealed. The next thing we know, the tomb is empty and Jesus appears selectively after the resurrection has already taken place -- an event that no one has seen in real time. (This is true at least in the canonical gospels; the anti-Jewish gospel of Peter reports a very tall Jesus being escorted out of the tomb by two others with a walking and talking cross following close behind.) This latter part of the narrative will have to wait until Easter. Easter is coming, but for now we will tarry at the cross on a bleak Friday to see just how bad it gets and how good it can become.
Within the confines of our lengthy text, we can make these observations:
Jesus goes knowingly and willingly to the cross (18:4). The "I am..." of this text does not rank with the other "I am..." statements in John. The reason for this is that there is no metaphor involved. The other statements are theological ways to talk about who Jesus is, which is the whole point of John's gospel (see 20:30-31). Here, Jesus simply identifies himself as the one the soldiers and officers are looking for. "In the flesh, simply me... here I am." So much is said about the gospel of John being the most spiritual gospel, and in many ways it is. But here and in the scenes that follow, the full humanity of Jesus is exposed.
Not only is Jesus' humanity portrayed, but also Peter's. Quite a rock he turned out to be; more like sandstone than granite. Three opportunities he had to stand up for his Lord! Instead, he crumbled under the scrutiny of three very common folks. Three is a liturgical number in scripture, signifying completeness, absoluteness, thoroughness: thorough temptation in the wilderness, absolute death in the tomb, the complete denial of a best friend. One might think that Jesus could have chosen a better friend, one more loyal. Was it that Jesus just didn't know any better? Or is his relationship with Peter such that he will enter into the frailty of human relationships because that is what life is all about in the end? As the story plays out beyond the resurrection on the beach and into Jerusalem after Pentecost, Jesus' choice in Peter proves to be well-founded, frailties and all.
What can be said of Pilate? He was ambivalent at best. Knowing that Jesus was innocent and probably could instruct Pilate himself in matters of truthfulness, Pilate nonetheless plays the hapless role of a minor governor on the border of civilization who dares not anger Caesar with unwanted turmoil. He complies with the crowd's demand against his better judgment, while at the same time probably with his shrewdest judgment.
The stew of humanity simmers to a boil as the crowd is incited to demand Barabbas, thereby rejecting Jesus as Messiah and Lord. Crowds usually are fickle, easily roused and manipulated, eager to play a dramatic role in a story that is larger than themselves that they oftentimes do not understand. The net result is that Barabbas benefits from it all and becomes a free man, though undeserving. Perhaps in this way Barabbas becomes a subtle, hopeful foreshadow of those whose path crosses the road Jesus was on to Calvary, where he offers the essential freedom in life for those who will believe in him.
The chief priests themselves prove duplicitous as they represent the king of the universe and at the same time proclaim "We have no king but Caesar." The gospel writer John puts the weight of responsibility for the crucifixion squarely on the Jews. They are the ones who brazenly capture Jesus (18:1-12), who justify his death to protect the nation (18:14), run him through a religious trial (18:19-24), press the case before a reluctant Pilate and declare Caesar as their authority (18:28--19:16), and in a final act of insult requested that the plaque be reworded to underscore his audacious (in their view, presumptuous and heretical) claim.
[One must be very careful at this point not to rail against the Jews as a way to lift up the claims of Christianity. This, unfortunately, has been too much the case throughout history and has led to some most unfaithful and unfortunate results -- pogroms in Russia, the Holocaust in Germany, and rampant prejudice in America. Here is the place in hermeneutics to talk about our common humanity that struggles with who Jesus is and our reluctance to let God do for us what we would rather try to do for ourselves. Homiletics must be sensitive to this.]
John's narrative excludes one particular character that has become synonymous with the road to Calvary: Simon of Cyrene. John makes a point of saying that Jesus himself carried his cross -- a departure from the synoptic gospels. Why do you suppose that is? Perhaps it is to emphasize the all-sufficiency of Jesus, who knowingly and willingly was on the Via Dolorosa. Perhaps it is to deflect the Docetist claim that a substitute (Simon) was found at the last minute to take the place of Jesus, who in fact, then, did not die. Perhaps as some of the early Fathers suggest this account is modeled after Isaac, carrying the kindling for the sacrifice, which would have unknowingly been himself. Perhaps, to build upon the idea of the all-sufficiency of Jesus, it is to show that it is indeed Jesus himself who is the cross-bearer for humanity; he shares that responsibility with no one else.
In this passion narrative, we not only see how Jesus bore his own humanity, but we also see how he bore with the humanity of all those other characters in the story of divine love in a loveless situation.
Application
Crucifixion was gruesome. The Romans learned it from the Cartheginians, who in turn learned it from the Persians. Cicero described it as "the most cruel and horrifying death." This form of death was not practiced in Italy itself. No Roman citizen wherever was to be crucified. But in the provinces, like Judea, it was a means of execution. So Jesus was nailed to a cross to die for threatening the political (!) and religious (?) order. (Which reason was most important at the time is an issue for discussion. Some argue that the religious/theological distinctions between the Pharisees especially and the followers of Jesus were written back into the narrative, reflecting the growing distance between the two.)
The week before Easter's celebration of the resurrection is devoted to the passion narrative from Jesus' entry into Jerusalem to the death and burial. By the fifth century, the church had established the liturgical texts as follows: Matthew's account was read on Palm Sunday and John's account was read on Good Friday. The other two canonical accounts have had mixed usage on the other days of this Holy Week.
Saint John's Passion and Saint Matthew's Passion were how "the fifth evangelist," J.S. Bach (1685-1750), rendered the story in music and used them in the liturgical life of St. Thomas Church in Leipzig, where Bach was cantor/organist for much of his life.
We can tell the story of the crucifixion in all its gory detail. We can work it into our liturgical church calendar for an endearing tradition. We can sing the story in great oratorios and heartfelt hymns. But what does it all mean?
Dramatically, it might be tempting to tell the story on Good Friday and leave this question dangling in the air along with Jesus on the cross. This would probably parallel history as the disciples themselves were left with many questions on the frightful, disappointing, sorrowful day, only to be answered after Easter -- after Pentecost -- after the letters of Paul and Peter and John and Hebrews -- after the reflections of the early Church Fathers -- after the development of the creeds out of the debates among Christians of so many varying opinions. Would anyone come back on Easter to hear "the rest of the story"?
Practically, we yearn for the meaning of this narrative now. It's Friday: good or bad? What are we to make of Jesus' death? Somehow something needs to be said about this sordid day so that we can make some sense of it, especially explaining how we dare call this a GOOD Friday.
The most common theologies spun on the loom of church history have been the ransom theory and the penal theory of the atonement. The former pits God against the devil to win over the prize of humanity. C.S. Lewis in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe tells a fanciful tale that portrays this. Also his science fiction trilogy (Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength), whose heroic protagonist is named Ransom, does the same thing in a different genre. The penal theory of the atonement pits God against God's own law and works out a solution through the substitutionary death of Jesus, who bears the penalty for humanity. Martin Luther lived mostly in the courtroom of this theory.
There are others: Christus Victor theory proclaims God's victory through Jesus over the cosmic powers of darkness. This is different than the ransom theory in that God does not trick and buy back (redeem) humanity from the devil. God simply destroys the power of the devil as a victor would do to the enemy on the battlefield. Another is the moral theory, wherein God, still the agent of Jesus' death, demonstrates to the world the supreme loving act. And there are more...
Two books that are helpful in seeing the variety of and the distinctions between the various ways of coming to terms with the meaning of Good Friday are The Nature of the Atonement: Four Views edited by James Beilby and Paul Eddy; and The Nonviolent Atonement by J. Denny Weaver, who proposes focusing on "Jesus' life as the reign of God rather than on Jesus' death as an act of God."
A most interesting question to ask is this: Was Jesus' death necessary for our atonement? It certainly was against the backdrop of the animal sacrifice system and most of the theories of the atonement put forth since. However, if that worldview is no longer tenable, then Jesus' death is natural and to be expected in the course of time; how it happened is not ultimately vital. This leaves us with his life: is that sufficient to convince us of the loving, salvific presence and power of God to lead us into a restored and reconstructing relationship with God?
Our work as preachers is certainly cut out for us. We are responsible to make sense for today's world the passion narrative that has been passed down to us. People in the sanctuary are waiting to hear what you have to say. Are you simply repeating age-old, time-worn words and ideas from someone else's wrestling with truth? Or are you sweating it out with God as you grapple with the person of Jesus and all that has been said about him?
All this having been said, I dare say that it is indeed GOOD Friday, for once again we encounter Jesus as the raw reality of his being in the world rubs against the raw reality of our being in the world and we experience at-one-ment with God even in places of skulls. What does this mean for today in a perspective and language that relates to the twenty-first-century worldview and culture? When you come to terms with this, you will find a way to preach about the cruciform reality of Jesus for eagerly waiting ears to hear.
An Alternative Application
Here is a Call to Worship for use at a Good Friday worship service, especially a Tenebrae ("shadow") service:
To all who live in the shadows
of broken relationships
injured feelings
unjust suffering
grief and sorrow:
Come to the one who has lived and loved
in the shadows
that there might be light
in the world.
Come and follow him who died
in the darkness
on the cross,
so that we,
led by the light of his love,
may live better in earthly shadows.
This could be reshaped to provide a sending Benediction at a Good Friday worship service:
Shadows and skulls are not to be feared,
for God is with us in Jesus.
Go from this darkened place now with the confidence of the light
that will shine through the shadows
of broken relationships
injured feelings
unjust suffering
grief and sorrow.
Go to the places of skulls in your life;
name them and let God claim them.
Go with Jesus, who knows the places of skulls very well.
Go
with faith for God is with you
with hope for God is with you
with love for God is with you.
Amen.
Both these options can be written as litanies to include the assembly:
Call to Worship
Pastor: To all who live in the shadows
Congregation: of broken relationships, injured feelings, unjust suffering, grief and sorrow...
Pastor: Come to the one who has lived and loved in the shadows
Congregation: that there might be light in the world.
Pastor: Come and follow him who died in the darkness on the cross,
Congregation: so that we, led by the light of his love, may live better in earthly shadows.
Benediction
Pastor: Shadows and skulls are not to be feared,
Congregation: for God is with us in Jesus.
Pastor: Go from this darkened place now with the confidence of the light
Congregation: that will shine through the shadows of broken relationships, injured feelings, unjust suffering, grief and sorrow.
Pastor: Go to the places of skulls in your life.
Congregation: We name them and will let God claim them.
Pastor: Go with Jesus,
Congregation: who knows the places of skulls very well.
Pastor: Go with faith,
Congregation: for God is with us.
Pastor: Go with hope,
Congregation: for God is with us.
Pastor: Go with love,
Congregation: for God is with us. Amen.
The followers of Jesus went through their own Lancaster County (Amish schoolhouse shooting in 2006) at Golgotha when on a dark Friday Jesus was hung out to dry in the wind, like so much wet black-and-white clothing on a strung-out line in the backyard.
In the account of Jesus' death there are striking similarities between the four canonical gospels; there are also some interesting differences. On the one hand, in all four Jesus is mocked, an inscription is made, others are crucified with him, followers of Jesus (mostly women) observe, Jesus dies, and Joseph of Arimathea offers his tomb. On the other hand, the differences are worthy of note.
First, there is no consistency as to what Jesus said on the cross, if indeed he was able to say anything at all. Christian piety of the Tenebrae service has gathered the "seven last words of Jesus" from the four gospels, which each used only selected words for their particular purposes in their gospel account.
Second, Simon of Cyrene has a role in the synoptics carrying the cross, but John deliberately makes the point that Jesus carried the cross by himself.
Third, there are time references in all four gospels, but Mark notes the crucifixion at 9 a.m., whereas John places it at noon (and there are not even time zones to contend with).
Fourth, whereas the synoptic accounts mention the curtain of the temple being torn in two, John gives no reference to it. Only Matthew mentions such notable occurrences as an earthquake and the dead rising. Strange! One would think everybody would keep memory of that!
Fifth, only John records the piercing of Jesus' side after death, but at the same time does not report any word from the attending centurion as to his confession of sorts. (Synoptic manuscripts differ as to what he said: God's Son, a son of God, innocent/righteous.)
From ancient times, the church has taken all that is written in the gospels about that inglorious Friday and invested it into gathering experiences to remember, to grieve, to reflect, to confess... and to hope. Our posture is that of anyone standing beneath a cross: we look up. We look up, not in despair and anguish but in faith and hope, trusting in the crucified one to be for us the revelation of the very heart of God.
It has been said, "Sorrow looks back, worry looks around, faith looks up." So, in faith, we look up to Jesus on the cross on this Friday and place our hope in him, despite the tragedy and sorrow with which we live, discovering through a trusting hope how we can call this Friday GOOD.
Isaiah 52:13--53:12
Would it be fair to say that Isaiah is the most popular/accessible prophet in the Old Testament? He certainly is the longest. Handel used more texts out of Isaiah than any other biblical book in writing the Messiah. In the New Revised Common Lectionary during the seasons of Advent and Christmas anticipating and celebrating Jesus' birth, Isaiah is opened up more than any other Old Testament book for the first reading. Now, in this season of Lent, once Holy Week begins to anticipate and grieve the death of Jesus, Isaiah once again dominates the textual landscape to give understanding for what is happening.
Accepted scholarship dates this portion of Isaiah as post-exilic (Second Isaiah). The first portion of Isaiah (chapters 1-39) are from the prophet's hand during the latter portion of the eighth century BCE and are written under the shadow of the Assyrian Empire. The northern kingdom was destroyed at that time, never to be heard from again. By the beginning of the sixth century BCE, the southern kingdom was carried off into exile by the newest bullies on the block, the empire of Babylon. When the Medo-Persian Empire ascended with their policies of repatriation, the people of God were allowed to return and rebuild their walls and towns and replant their fields.
The soothing words of Second Isaiah warm the people's hearts: "Comfort, oh comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and declare to her that her term of service is over, that her iniquity is expiated; for she has received at the hand of the Lord double for all her sin" (Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures, The Jewish Publication Society). In prophetic tradition, Isaiah explains that the time of judgment is over. Punishment has been rendered and the trauma of exile was the price paid to expiate the sins of the people who brought about the judgment in the first place. Could the "double for all her sin" refer to the affliction visited upon the people two-times-over, first by the Assyrians and then by the Babylonians? The northern kingdom was crushed and the southern kingdom was decimated. Why? Ask any prophet of any age and they will tell you. But the words of First Isaiah sum up the answer as well as any: "They have rebelled against me" (1:2). The rebellion was evidenced in idolatry and injustice, basically breaking the first and second tables of the law (Ten Commandments). For this they had to pay the price, and they did. It is not that they were pardoned in the sense of a presidential pardon for a guilty individual so that they do not have to go to jail (vacating the conviction). Remember President Clinton's pardon of Marc Rich for tax evasion to the tune of $50 million and also President George H.W. Bush's pardon of Secretary of Defense Casper Weinberger (under President Reagan) who was convicted in the Iran-Contra affair.
The comfort offered by the introductory words of Second Isaiah conveys the hope that a new day is dawning. And indeed it was. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah record the rebuilding that occurred, especially of the temple. Although there would indeed be rough times ahead, the people were no longer in exile. In fact, there would be a time in the not-too-distant future (167 BCE) when a revolt against the then-overlords (the Seleucids, northern heirs of the Alexandrian empire) by the Maccabees would establish the people of Israel as an autonomous, free entity -- at least until the Romans were invited in to rectify some matters that had gotten out of hand. Of course, they never left, and when Jesus came upon the scene it was Roman justice that would determine his ugly fate.
This is the context in which our text for Good Friday is to be read. On the one hand, it could be determined that the "suffering servant" described so poetically and profoundly in these verses is none other than Israel, the people of God, personified in the image of the suffering servant. As one reads this text in this light, one can just see the beat-up people of no repute and no regard, their comeliness taken from them by the bullies of the battlefields. They were bruised -- he was bruised -- because of the sins of the community ("our iniquities"). It was to be expected that God would "visit upon him (the community who serves Yahweh -- at least supposed to!) the guilt of all of us" (Tanakh). The majority of Jewish scholars throughout the ages (BCE and CE) have interpreted the suffering servant in terms of the community, not in terms of an individual.
On the other hand, there was developing during this period of time a notion that the Christian community attached itself to, that the suffering servant would be a messiah, an "anointed one" (individual) by God to bring about God's rule (justice) and glory (peace) on earth. He would be God's mighty warrior (The zealots liked this aspect!) who would champion God's purposes in his person. When the zealots and others who truly believed that God through messiah would "move into the neighborhood" (as The Message so graphically portrays it) to clean it up, shape it up, and render it up to God did not see this happen in Jesus, they were disappointed, to say the least. The disciples themselves simply went back to their fishing (the gospel of John) or gathered in a room without a real sense of purpose other than to pray (Acts). And this after the accounts of the resurrection!
Once the Christian community was sparked by the Spirit of God (Pentecost) to see that indeed, in Jesus, God was working divine purposes on earth, they revisited texts like this one in Second Isaiah and saw new meaning for any individual to grasp. Sin -- which everyone deals with -- is now dealt with in a vicarious way. On the cross, which is the whole nation's history on one square foot of ground, God was messaging good news to the world: sins can be forgiven, death can be overcome. It doesn't all happen nice and neat, orderly and sweet. The ugly death of Jesus (messiah, God's anointed one) becomes the consequence of our sins, and through it God takes our guilt and renders us healed and whole (Isaiah 53:5). Spirituality for the community of Israel becomes the individual spirituality of a new community of believers in Christ (messiah).
This Friday, like the sufferings of the servant in Isaiah, is something from which we might like to hide our eyes. It seems at first to be dry ground. What good could come of it? Yet, God roots his love here before our eyes to see and believe. There may still be hope for the community of humanity when I, as an individual, can see the GOOD in the happenings of this day.
Hebrews 10:16-25
The letter to the Hebrews is written against the backdrop of the Aaronic priesthood, the Levitical caste, and the animal sacrificial system of religious practice for the Hebrews, the house of Jacob/Israel, redeemed from Egypt. The canonical writings of the Torah are set within the context of the Exodus and wilderness wanderings under the authority of Moses.
There were several kinds of offerings established to guide the people in their worship of God: sin, guilt, burnt and peace offerings; cereal, incense, oil, and a variety of animals were used. The book of Leviticus records detailed instructions as to how all this was to be prepared and performed. The tabernacle, made of curtains, was the portable place that served as the ritual center for the assembly.
The Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) was the highest holy day, held annually. The date may vary from as early as September 14 to as late as October 14, remembering that the day begins at sundown the day before. The priest and assistants were to be purified with several water baths before and after the ritual: the priest before, to be ritually pure to perform the rite; the assistants, after they had burnt unused parts of the animals outside the community. This purification was necessary for the assistants to rejoin the assembly.
The focus of the sacrifice was atonement because of the sins of the people. A bull, two goats, and a ram were used in the ceremony. The bull's blood provided atonement for the priest (originally Aaron) and his household, the Ark, the altar, and the tent of meeting itself. The blood of one of the goats was sprinkled in like fashion to expiate the sins of the people. The priest would then place his hands on the head of the second goat and confess the sins of the people. This goat, the scapegoat, was then sent away from the assembly into the wilderness as a symbol of the removal of the sins of the people. The ram was used for a burnt offering (perhaps as a way of remembering the ram caught in the thicket which was then used as a sacrifice by Abraham instead of his son Isaac).
The blood of the animal sacrifice was a symbol of the life that was taken, for the life is in the blood. The animal's life was taken so the human life could remain: life for life. The blood was used ceremonially and was never to be used as drink. This is also the reason why meat is to be prepared in kosher fashion; animals that died naturally and still had the blood in the meat were not to be eaten.
All this, and more, is in the mind of the writer of the letter to the Hebrews as well as the readers of this letter, which is really a treatise on how Jesus fulfills the theological and ceremonial purposes of the animal sacrifice system, himself serving as the priest over God's people -- the new house of Israel, the Christian assembly, gathered under this new covenant of Jesus' blood.
The writer of this treatise borrows words from Jeremiah, who in his time was speaking a word of hope in what appeared to be a hopeless situation. The Babylonians were overrunning Jerusalem; there was no peace in the land, no peace in the hearts of the people. True to prophetic tradition, Jeremiah points to the source of the problem: the sins of the people. Though punishment was the order of the day, it would only be through a word of forgiveness that the relationship could be restored. God would do what only God could do and offer the forgiveness that would remove the ultimate punishment from over the heads of God's people.
The Christian community experienced in Jesus the shedding of blood that would have salutary effect in restoring relationship with God. The blood of the battlefield and the blood of the rituals have now been replaced with the blood of the innocent Lamb. The heart of God (the sanctuary) is now open for any to enter by virtue of faith in Jesus. The holy of holies is no longer hidden; the presence of God is manifest openly for all to see with the eyes of faith.
The Friday of crucifixion becomes the Day of Atonement for the Christian; therefore, this dreadful Friday becomes GOOD. In a verse previous to our text (Hebrews 10:14), the writer claims that the single blood offering of Jesus on the cross is perfect for all time -- is effective for all time -- to work the mercy of God's love in the life of the sinner.
Ritual baths are no longer necessary for religious behavior. The Christian is washed clean, presumably in baptism (okay, one ritual bath!), and by faith in Jesus can claim a God-given pureness that prepares and empowers one for a daily life of love and good works.
The sense of and need for assembly is affirmed, for we are not cast out into the wilderness of life alone like the goat for Azazel. Just as the assembly of old was called together for memorial, ritual practices (priestly tradition) and for instruction (for example, Josiah's reform in the seventh century BCE guided by the reading of Deuteronomy), so too are Christians called together/to gather, to "stir up one another"... "encouraging one another" to live as disciples of Jesus. We are gathered in assembly and then scattered upon the fields of life to sow faith, hope, and love.
[It should be noted that rabbinic Judaism, as it developed against the background of the destruction of the second temple in 70 CE, set aside the animal sacrifice system and developed the importance of the synagogue and the assembly of the faithful around the devotion to Torah, interpreted by rabbinic tradition to help Jews who no longer had a central place for worship (the temple) to practice the ceremonies described in Torah and who were scattered around the world (Diaspora). This is a creative adaptation by a religious community passing through the contingencies of history.]
John 18:1--19:42
The four canonical gospels have been called "a passion narrative with an extended introduction." This makes sense when one observes that the one consistent factor in these gospels is Holy Week -- from Palm Sunday through Easter. Christmas (the most popular Christian holy day) does not get the same coverage. Only Matthew and Luke have a story to tell about the birth of Jesus. Mark does not even mention it and John encrypts it in logos language. Although the events of Holy Week themselves are reported differently in some aspects, yet each gospel reads like a laser beam pointed to the cross and the empty tomb.
The outline of the passion narrative in John consists of betrayal, denial, assault, ridicule, rejection, crucifixion, burial -- all in one day! -- then resurrection appearances. Note that the resurrection itself is not reported as an event in the same way the crucifixion is reported. We can see the soldiers, the disciples, the sword, the chief priest, Pilate, the crowd, the cross, the plague, Jesus, his mother, the spear, the wrapping of Jesus' body and the laying of his body in the tomb, which we see occupied now and stone-sealed. The next thing we know, the tomb is empty and Jesus appears selectively after the resurrection has already taken place -- an event that no one has seen in real time. (This is true at least in the canonical gospels; the anti-Jewish gospel of Peter reports a very tall Jesus being escorted out of the tomb by two others with a walking and talking cross following close behind.) This latter part of the narrative will have to wait until Easter. Easter is coming, but for now we will tarry at the cross on a bleak Friday to see just how bad it gets and how good it can become.
Within the confines of our lengthy text, we can make these observations:
Jesus goes knowingly and willingly to the cross (18:4). The "I am..." of this text does not rank with the other "I am..." statements in John. The reason for this is that there is no metaphor involved. The other statements are theological ways to talk about who Jesus is, which is the whole point of John's gospel (see 20:30-31). Here, Jesus simply identifies himself as the one the soldiers and officers are looking for. "In the flesh, simply me... here I am." So much is said about the gospel of John being the most spiritual gospel, and in many ways it is. But here and in the scenes that follow, the full humanity of Jesus is exposed.
Not only is Jesus' humanity portrayed, but also Peter's. Quite a rock he turned out to be; more like sandstone than granite. Three opportunities he had to stand up for his Lord! Instead, he crumbled under the scrutiny of three very common folks. Three is a liturgical number in scripture, signifying completeness, absoluteness, thoroughness: thorough temptation in the wilderness, absolute death in the tomb, the complete denial of a best friend. One might think that Jesus could have chosen a better friend, one more loyal. Was it that Jesus just didn't know any better? Or is his relationship with Peter such that he will enter into the frailty of human relationships because that is what life is all about in the end? As the story plays out beyond the resurrection on the beach and into Jerusalem after Pentecost, Jesus' choice in Peter proves to be well-founded, frailties and all.
What can be said of Pilate? He was ambivalent at best. Knowing that Jesus was innocent and probably could instruct Pilate himself in matters of truthfulness, Pilate nonetheless plays the hapless role of a minor governor on the border of civilization who dares not anger Caesar with unwanted turmoil. He complies with the crowd's demand against his better judgment, while at the same time probably with his shrewdest judgment.
The stew of humanity simmers to a boil as the crowd is incited to demand Barabbas, thereby rejecting Jesus as Messiah and Lord. Crowds usually are fickle, easily roused and manipulated, eager to play a dramatic role in a story that is larger than themselves that they oftentimes do not understand. The net result is that Barabbas benefits from it all and becomes a free man, though undeserving. Perhaps in this way Barabbas becomes a subtle, hopeful foreshadow of those whose path crosses the road Jesus was on to Calvary, where he offers the essential freedom in life for those who will believe in him.
The chief priests themselves prove duplicitous as they represent the king of the universe and at the same time proclaim "We have no king but Caesar." The gospel writer John puts the weight of responsibility for the crucifixion squarely on the Jews. They are the ones who brazenly capture Jesus (18:1-12), who justify his death to protect the nation (18:14), run him through a religious trial (18:19-24), press the case before a reluctant Pilate and declare Caesar as their authority (18:28--19:16), and in a final act of insult requested that the plaque be reworded to underscore his audacious (in their view, presumptuous and heretical) claim.
[One must be very careful at this point not to rail against the Jews as a way to lift up the claims of Christianity. This, unfortunately, has been too much the case throughout history and has led to some most unfaithful and unfortunate results -- pogroms in Russia, the Holocaust in Germany, and rampant prejudice in America. Here is the place in hermeneutics to talk about our common humanity that struggles with who Jesus is and our reluctance to let God do for us what we would rather try to do for ourselves. Homiletics must be sensitive to this.]
John's narrative excludes one particular character that has become synonymous with the road to Calvary: Simon of Cyrene. John makes a point of saying that Jesus himself carried his cross -- a departure from the synoptic gospels. Why do you suppose that is? Perhaps it is to emphasize the all-sufficiency of Jesus, who knowingly and willingly was on the Via Dolorosa. Perhaps it is to deflect the Docetist claim that a substitute (Simon) was found at the last minute to take the place of Jesus, who in fact, then, did not die. Perhaps as some of the early Fathers suggest this account is modeled after Isaac, carrying the kindling for the sacrifice, which would have unknowingly been himself. Perhaps, to build upon the idea of the all-sufficiency of Jesus, it is to show that it is indeed Jesus himself who is the cross-bearer for humanity; he shares that responsibility with no one else.
In this passion narrative, we not only see how Jesus bore his own humanity, but we also see how he bore with the humanity of all those other characters in the story of divine love in a loveless situation.
Application
Crucifixion was gruesome. The Romans learned it from the Cartheginians, who in turn learned it from the Persians. Cicero described it as "the most cruel and horrifying death." This form of death was not practiced in Italy itself. No Roman citizen wherever was to be crucified. But in the provinces, like Judea, it was a means of execution. So Jesus was nailed to a cross to die for threatening the political (!) and religious (?) order. (Which reason was most important at the time is an issue for discussion. Some argue that the religious/theological distinctions between the Pharisees especially and the followers of Jesus were written back into the narrative, reflecting the growing distance between the two.)
The week before Easter's celebration of the resurrection is devoted to the passion narrative from Jesus' entry into Jerusalem to the death and burial. By the fifth century, the church had established the liturgical texts as follows: Matthew's account was read on Palm Sunday and John's account was read on Good Friday. The other two canonical accounts have had mixed usage on the other days of this Holy Week.
Saint John's Passion and Saint Matthew's Passion were how "the fifth evangelist," J.S. Bach (1685-1750), rendered the story in music and used them in the liturgical life of St. Thomas Church in Leipzig, where Bach was cantor/organist for much of his life.
We can tell the story of the crucifixion in all its gory detail. We can work it into our liturgical church calendar for an endearing tradition. We can sing the story in great oratorios and heartfelt hymns. But what does it all mean?
Dramatically, it might be tempting to tell the story on Good Friday and leave this question dangling in the air along with Jesus on the cross. This would probably parallel history as the disciples themselves were left with many questions on the frightful, disappointing, sorrowful day, only to be answered after Easter -- after Pentecost -- after the letters of Paul and Peter and John and Hebrews -- after the reflections of the early Church Fathers -- after the development of the creeds out of the debates among Christians of so many varying opinions. Would anyone come back on Easter to hear "the rest of the story"?
Practically, we yearn for the meaning of this narrative now. It's Friday: good or bad? What are we to make of Jesus' death? Somehow something needs to be said about this sordid day so that we can make some sense of it, especially explaining how we dare call this a GOOD Friday.
The most common theologies spun on the loom of church history have been the ransom theory and the penal theory of the atonement. The former pits God against the devil to win over the prize of humanity. C.S. Lewis in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe tells a fanciful tale that portrays this. Also his science fiction trilogy (Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength), whose heroic protagonist is named Ransom, does the same thing in a different genre. The penal theory of the atonement pits God against God's own law and works out a solution through the substitutionary death of Jesus, who bears the penalty for humanity. Martin Luther lived mostly in the courtroom of this theory.
There are others: Christus Victor theory proclaims God's victory through Jesus over the cosmic powers of darkness. This is different than the ransom theory in that God does not trick and buy back (redeem) humanity from the devil. God simply destroys the power of the devil as a victor would do to the enemy on the battlefield. Another is the moral theory, wherein God, still the agent of Jesus' death, demonstrates to the world the supreme loving act. And there are more...
Two books that are helpful in seeing the variety of and the distinctions between the various ways of coming to terms with the meaning of Good Friday are The Nature of the Atonement: Four Views edited by James Beilby and Paul Eddy; and The Nonviolent Atonement by J. Denny Weaver, who proposes focusing on "Jesus' life as the reign of God rather than on Jesus' death as an act of God."
A most interesting question to ask is this: Was Jesus' death necessary for our atonement? It certainly was against the backdrop of the animal sacrifice system and most of the theories of the atonement put forth since. However, if that worldview is no longer tenable, then Jesus' death is natural and to be expected in the course of time; how it happened is not ultimately vital. This leaves us with his life: is that sufficient to convince us of the loving, salvific presence and power of God to lead us into a restored and reconstructing relationship with God?
Our work as preachers is certainly cut out for us. We are responsible to make sense for today's world the passion narrative that has been passed down to us. People in the sanctuary are waiting to hear what you have to say. Are you simply repeating age-old, time-worn words and ideas from someone else's wrestling with truth? Or are you sweating it out with God as you grapple with the person of Jesus and all that has been said about him?
All this having been said, I dare say that it is indeed GOOD Friday, for once again we encounter Jesus as the raw reality of his being in the world rubs against the raw reality of our being in the world and we experience at-one-ment with God even in places of skulls. What does this mean for today in a perspective and language that relates to the twenty-first-century worldview and culture? When you come to terms with this, you will find a way to preach about the cruciform reality of Jesus for eagerly waiting ears to hear.
An Alternative Application
Here is a Call to Worship for use at a Good Friday worship service, especially a Tenebrae ("shadow") service:
To all who live in the shadows
of broken relationships
injured feelings
unjust suffering
grief and sorrow:
Come to the one who has lived and loved
in the shadows
that there might be light
in the world.
Come and follow him who died
in the darkness
on the cross,
so that we,
led by the light of his love,
may live better in earthly shadows.
This could be reshaped to provide a sending Benediction at a Good Friday worship service:
Shadows and skulls are not to be feared,
for God is with us in Jesus.
Go from this darkened place now with the confidence of the light
that will shine through the shadows
of broken relationships
injured feelings
unjust suffering
grief and sorrow.
Go to the places of skulls in your life;
name them and let God claim them.
Go with Jesus, who knows the places of skulls very well.
Go
with faith for God is with you
with hope for God is with you
with love for God is with you.
Amen.
Both these options can be written as litanies to include the assembly:
Call to Worship
Pastor: To all who live in the shadows
Congregation: of broken relationships, injured feelings, unjust suffering, grief and sorrow...
Pastor: Come to the one who has lived and loved in the shadows
Congregation: that there might be light in the world.
Pastor: Come and follow him who died in the darkness on the cross,
Congregation: so that we, led by the light of his love, may live better in earthly shadows.
Benediction
Pastor: Shadows and skulls are not to be feared,
Congregation: for God is with us in Jesus.
Pastor: Go from this darkened place now with the confidence of the light
Congregation: that will shine through the shadows of broken relationships, injured feelings, unjust suffering, grief and sorrow.
Pastor: Go to the places of skulls in your life.
Congregation: We name them and will let God claim them.
Pastor: Go with Jesus,
Congregation: who knows the places of skulls very well.
Pastor: Go with faith,
Congregation: for God is with us.
Pastor: Go with hope,
Congregation: for God is with us.
Pastor: Go with love,
Congregation: for God is with us. Amen.
