Good Friday

Meditation On the Cross

Readings: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22:1-17; Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42

There are many moments during Jesus' life which are memorable. But surely none can be as profound as these last days which we commemorate. Here is both the tragedy and glory of his life. Here we see glimpses of our own humanity shining forth. Let us journey together through the final scenes of Christ's earthly life.

The Garden of Gethsemane

First we go with Jesus and the disciples to the garden of Gethsemane. When pilgrims visited the city for a festival like Passover, it was not unusual for a group of people to find a place to spend the night. Jesus and his followers spent many nights under the olive trees in the garden. There, just beyond the city wall, was a quiet place apart, a place of prayer and communion with God and one another.

Judas knew perfectly well where he would find Jesus. It was no secret. His treachery was so simple. Although he brought an armed detachment of soldiers along with him, Jesus offered no resistance. He could have used violence to protect himself. Peter's rash action in taking up a sword is the proof of that. But Jesus chose what is life-giving even in that ultimate moment of distress. He chose to break the cycle of violence. He refused to enter into the violence of the world.

If that is the foolishness of the cross, Lord, then give me the strength to face it. Let me experience the cup of blessing. I am called to drink from the cup in willing obedience to your will whatever it brings. I may be called to stand up for what is right against all odds. I may be called to love the most unlovable of your creation. I may be called to risk everything for the gospel. Whatever it means, I pray that I may be worthy of my calling.

Hymn: Blue 194: Stay With Us

Peter's Denial

Peter's struggle is that of a person for whom there is no perfect answer. "Is it better for me," he must have reasoned, "to lie and remain free so that I can continue the struggle? Or should I risk everything to follow Christ to the cross?"

We see it throughout history. It is the dilemma of the Jesuit priests in the movie, The Mission. One of them chose to face whatever without retaliation. He died, cut down by enemies of the church. The other chose to fight back. He died too. Who was right?
I see people struggling to keep their faith in the midst of crippling sorrow and senseless loss. Peter is practical if nothing else. His world is simple. You have to do this or that, you have to act, you have to establish standards, set things right, even things out. So he tells himself. And even though he wants to be there in Jesus' hour of need, yet he convinces himself that the risk is not worth it.

Peter represents the discipleship of his own day, but he represents also the discipleship in Mississauga, or Toronto, or wherever else there is a Christian community. We can persuade ourselves that our loyalty to Jesus has no limits. We confess our faith in the creed. We proclaim our loyalty as we sing our favourite hymns. But do we proclaim who we are to the world? Do we tell people how much we love Jesus? Or do we worry about being ridiculed? Do we worry about being labelled fanatics? Or do we simply say: "I am a follower of Christ," whatever the risk?

Hymn: Blue 197: O Dearest Lord

Jesus is condemned to death.

Pilate's struggle is not so much an inner struggle, as a struggle with the complex and unbending rules of his society. He knows the law. He is responsible, wise, has all the right arguments, but a frozen heart. He prefers to hand over one whom he knows to be innocent rather than to take on the mob. It is so much easier too if you do not believe that there is such a thing as truth. If you believe nothing, you can do anything. You don't need character or conviction or reflection. It becomes just a part of the power game.

There is something too about the way Jesus faces Pilate at the time of his judgement. His quiet demeanour in the face of death could be taken for weakness on his part. But one only need look back his years of ministry to witness the truth. This is not a weak man simply caving in to authority. He spoke out in the temple. He answered the charges of the Pharisees as they tried to trap him with his own words. He was a friend to outcasts and sinners never worrying about what society might say or think. But here he stands silent before his accusers. Silent for he knows that the way of the cross is the way to glory.

Hymn 202: There is a Green Hill Far Away

At the Foot of the Cross

A group of the faithful gather at the foot of the cross, the holy women, the beloved disciple. It is a time of faith for them. They see beyond the fact of Christ's death. If we consider only the external appearance of Golgotha, the world will go on as it is, and we will become discouraged and follow the way of the world. But if we take in the meaning of the cross we will understand that it creates a place of love and glory. We will know that serving people is more important than having power or control over them. We will know that love cannot die. We will know life, for the cross is the beginning of life if we accept it.

Hymn 201: People Draw Near to God

Jesus is crucified

The crucifixion as John expresses it is not a scene of horror. For Christ on the cross has conquered death and fear. Out of the darkness shines the glory of God. Out of the depths of our despair, we meet our Saviour. The world loved darkness better than light. But from the cross the light shines against the darkness of the sky turned black.

On Good Friday we see the truth of who we are. We see our sinfulness. We know without a doubt that despite all our good intentions we are sinners. In the cross we see the goodness of God. God is a God of love who is determined to forgive us no matter how sinful we are. Such is the grace of God. What Christ has come to do has been accomplished. Our relationship with God is restored.

Hymn 192: Were you there?

Good Friday

Why “Good”?

John 18 & 19
 
Every Friday morning as I wake up the commentator on the station I listen to calls out, “Good Friday morning to all you listeners!” It irks me somehow, because it takes away from the day we call Good Friday. Yet even as we come together to commemorate this day I find myself questioning why we call it 'Good’. Christ’s life is full of meaningful moments, yet none as profound as the events we have been enacting this week, the events of the last days of his earthly life.  Here is both tragedy and glory. It is far easier for us to see the tragedy than to understand the glory.  How can we see it as anything but a terrible waste of human life?  What kind of a God could allow such a terrible thing to happen to a beloved child?  How can we, knowing the depths to which humanity fell, have the audacity to call this Friday "Good"?     
The story of the crucifixion is an astounding story of hatred and hostility.  It brings up so many questions in us.  How could one of his closest companions, one who had travelled with him, the one entrusted with the common purse, deliberately agree with his enemies to assist them in capturing him?  Why should the leaders of the synagogue turn on one of their own, a young rabbi, with such animosity?  His unorthodox ways are simply not enough to explain it.  Why should the guards turn with such vehemence against their prisoner, bullying him in such a vicious manner?  How could Pilate, a servant of Rome, go against his inner convictions and impose the death penalty on one he knows to be a good person?  Why should the crowd, who only days before had cheered Jesus on with shouts of “Hosanna”, just as easily shout “crucify”?  It doesn’t make sense. 

The day was a Friday.  But it was quite unlike any other day.  For on what other day have people gone so far astray?  Were they evil – that great crowd of people?  Who was in that crowd?  No doubt there were the unemployed, the disenfranchised of Jerusalem.  One can understand in a way how they could take out their frustrations on another.  But there were shopkeepers, teachers, artisans, business people and housewives in that crowd.  People just like you and me.  There were no doubt many religious people, people with character.  Yet none of that saved them from becoming a part of that unthinking mob. 

That mob mentality is part of the tragedy of being human.  The events of that day are disasters renewed daily in our world.  Amnesty International reminds us that, even while we are worshipping here in Mississauga, some man or woman in a police station somewhere in the world is being battered or tortured for no particular reason except that he or she is at the mercy of another human being.  One cannot open a newspaper without reading about such events.  They happen all over the world – in Afghanistan, in Columbia, in Haiti, in The Congo. Terrible atrocities take place every day.  Sadly, many of them take place in the name of God. 

There once was a city called Harmony.  To be true the city did not live up to its name.  For it was a hotbed of bigotry, prejudice and discrimination.  The King had long watched what was happening in the town.  He knew that he had to take action.  So he sent his son to look into the problem. 

The Prince went in disguise.  That way he could go about freely.  There were no barriers.  He made himself a part of every group in the community.  He found his way into every ghetto.  Rich and poor alike were attracted to him.  They sensed his acceptance and love.  In return they would have done anything for him. 

One day he invited all of his friends to a picnic.  The whole city turned out.  He went from group to group encouraging them to talk with one another, to share the food and drink they had brought, and to have their children play games and run races together.  Suddenly the mood turned ugly.  The rich looked at the poor and began to mutter.  “What kind of company does this man keep?”  The poor couldn’t help but notice the snobbery of the rich.  The Caucasians looked at the people of colour saying, "What are they doing here?  Who invited them anyway?"  The Prince continued to encourage them to find their common interests and to share with one another.  The more he tried to convince them the more angry they became until finally their anger turned against him.  They rose as a mob.  Their shouts and screams of hatred filled the air. 

The Prince, battered and bruised, beat a hasty retreat.  Just as he left town a huge clap of thunder was heard.  The sky turned as black as night.  It began to pour with rain.  Now the only shelter in the picnic area was an abandoned temple.  The crowd hurried inside and stood there huddled together like a flock of sheep.  They were petrified at the fury of the storm.  They knew that they had done a terrible thing.  “Was God punishing them?” they wondered.   

In their panic they forgot about their differences. The walls of the temple bound them together, as members of a large family.  The barriers fell down.  They began to comfort one another attempting to relieve each others fears.  They reflected on all that had taken place.  They understood what the Prince had accomplished for them.  When they discovered his true identity, they were overwhelmed.  Love for him overflowed.  They longed to make amends to him for their hateful actions.  Realizing how impossible that was, they made amends to one another.  “That”, they knew, “was what the Prince had been sent to do.”  From that day on Harmony began to live up to its name. 

Jesus was not a prisoner dragged to his execution.  He was a king offering himself for his kingdom.  That is the ultimate love of God.  It is not something we can know in any intellectual way.  We must experience it.  We must know it in the way we know God’s presence with us.  We must understand why he came and why he suffered and died.  For only then can we call this Friday, “Good”.