Where is the light of truth in the darkness of Good Friday?

We are on a death watch together for these next two days.

Someone who showed us how to more fully love and accept our own belovedness has been convicted of a crime and executed.

What is the truth about what has just happened?  What has been the meaning of the life and actions of our beloved prophet and teacher, if it has resulted in this brutal, bitter end?

No one stepped in to challenge what ‘the system’ was doing to this man who was releasing captives, restoring sight to the blind, and restoring dignity to the ill and the marginalized young and the old alike – bringing everyone into new relationships of mutual care with one another.

Surely, we can all sit comfortably distant from what we’ve just heard.  Surely, none of us have ever participated in plotting/scheming… betrayal… trying to evade final responsibility for a major decision…. mob mentality… shutting down and withdrawing from relationships because of shock or grief...  denial… avoidance of standing up for someone because of our fears of being judged or rejected.   All these dark visitors are around us as we sit here facing the barrenness of this scene. 

Our Lord has been judged, mocked, beaten, and brutally murdered.  There are empty chairs and empty tables where they were just celebrating a meal togehther; friends of his are now huddled in fearful hiding; a powerful ruler is perhaps wondering too late if this was a mistake; and there’s an enraged mob that is slowly coming down off their endorphine-filled catharsis and returning to life under Roman rule.  In short, other than possible regret and certainly fear, it doesn’t seem that much has changed. There are a few people still gathered at the foot of the cross – tear-filled eyes looking up… grief stricken and wondering if this is how it ends… how all their hopes and dreams come to an end.

What in this story resonates with our own life experience right now?

Above the head of Jesus is a mocking sign “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”.  Were you up there on either side of him, what do you suppose the sign above your head would say?

If you’re at the foot of the cross looking up, what do you want to cry out or ask?

Soon, a cross will be processed up to the altar.  As it is carried among us, place yourself in this story.  Consider what you will bring forward to the cross tonight.  Listen to what is going on inside you.  See yourself coming to the foot of the cross, in company with the three Mary’s – his mother, his aunt, and his close companion in ministry, Mary Magdalene. Stand with them in devotion and deep grief that only comes from deep love.

You’re invite to come venerate the cross; offer a devotion or prayer in front of it; some people kiss it or actually spread their arms wide and embrace it (seeking to connect with Christ is a deeper way)… just don’t deny it… don’t pretend it’s not really there or that it’s not worth the effort to confront what is represents tonight.

Come to the foot of the cross, kneel, look up… imagine all that Jesus has said and done… see him hanging there.  See if you can still tell yourself, as powers in this world sometimes try to convince us, that this doesn’t matter… that his dying doesn’t mean anything.

If there’s nothing pressing you personally… consider venerating the cross on behalf of the family of St. Andrew’s.  Consider your act of devotion as prayer for others.

One commentator has said, “our Good Friday faith is that love that seeks to bear the pain of others is never wasted.” (Sandy Williams in Companion to the Revised Common Lectionary, Vol 8, Mining the Meaning – Year C. 2003: U.K., Epworth)

Jesus said to Pilate, “… I came into the world, to testify to the truth.”

Pilate asked him, “What is truth?”

What is truth?  What is true tonight?

All of us are to be pain bearers tonight as we struggle to accept that Jesus continues to be crucified in our world today… and consider how we are complicit.

All of us are invited to bring ourselves, our souls, and our bodies before the cross and discern what we need to leave there – what pain have we been carrying for too long… what needs to die in us in order for us to enjoy new life. 

All of us are called to see that we’re together in this.  Even if there are no effective words of comfort to offer; even if some are avoiding or in denial about what is happening; even if others need to rage in anger or despair… we’re gathered here, like some of Jesus’ family and friends at the foot of the cross.  We’re gathered in his name, even in these dark hours.

I encourage you to surrender something at the cross tonight.  Ask Jesus to take it to the grave for you… or for us.

I invite you to sit in prayer sometime tomorrow and talk to God where you are right now in your relationship with Jesus Christ. 

God Almighty, Father/creator, Son/redeemer, and Spirit/sustainer remain at holy work in relationship with us, even in our darkest hours.

“O Jesus, to you, now lifted up, with your arms of love stretched out on the hard wood of the cross, in your loving and giving until all is completed, to you in your finishing, we bring all our incompleteness, all our unfinishedness, all those things done and left undone: our fractional loving, our fragmentary living, our unrealized intentions, our unfulfilled potential, our unarticulated praise, our unprayed prayers, our underachieved service, our ungiven forgiveness, our conditional charity, our inadequate hope, our wanting faith, unfinished us, unfinished me. And you say, drawing each of us and our incompleteness all to you…”  (The Rev. Dr. Amy E. Richter, Rector of St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Annapolis, MD). 

Help us to know what it really means that through you all things have been made new.

Seek to open your mind and heart to the possibilities of what needs be overcome… what can be born again… what shall be resurrected.

AMEN.