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April 14, 2006 - Good Friday, Year B

It all began so well, that day,
began with an evening meal
where they could sit and enjoy good food and good friends
long hours of conversation,
spiced still by the adrenalin rush
of that triumphant procession into the city
just four days ago.
But just a few short hours, and everything had changed.
From the high of the festival meal
to the helplessness of watching their leader, taken away
with swords and knives.
And the disciples left, afraid, helpless, empty.

There had been hints along the way that something might be going on:
throwing the tables over in the temple,
odd parables,
men skulking in the background wherever they went, armed sometimes with weapons of war, other times weapons of righteousness, but weapons all the same.
And even that evening, his strange talk of betrayal,
and then the bread and the wine,
talk about flesh and blood
at a time that should have been all celebration.

And then the utter hopeless darkness of his trial, his crucifixion, his death,
and all they were left with was a body
and hope crushed
beyond recognition.
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
His words
from the cross,
their desolation.
All their hopes
rest on him. It goes against all logic
to follow someone
who was so easily
overcome.
Arrested, tried, executed,
all in a matter of hours.
And he did nothing, absolutely nothing
to save himself.
Not even
hanging in agony on the cross,
when one of the others crucified beside him
taunted him,
"Save yourself, if you're who you say you are, save yourself
and us along with you."

No wonder Christians came to read
the words of the prophet Isaiah
as referring to our crucified Lord:
"He was despised and rejected by others;
a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity;
and as one from whom others hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him of no account.
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth."
The epitome
of helplessness.

It's hardly what you'd expect
of a great leader, the one we call our Lord.
And the truth is that most of us would be happy
just to skip straight over this scene
to the celebration of Easter.
The vast majority of people do.
We want our God
to be triumphant, all-powerful, a success in every way.
We want to find in Jesus
the great charismatic leader, strong, attractive, effective. Because of course, we hope that those characteristics
will rub off
on us.

But the joy of Easter would mean nothing without this death.
Without this death, Jesus risen might bring new life,
but it wouldn't do us any good. Because we'd still be stuck with the curse of Eden,
forever barred from the presence of God
because we've screwed up, we individually and as a human race,
and we have no rights
to the presence of a holy God.
No point in eternal life
if you're banned
from the presence
of God.

Jesus had to die. Not because of anything he had done
but because of what we have done,
we human beings. We have gone astray, we have wandered far away
from the life God intended for us.
And only the shepherd
can rescue us. The shepherd
who lays down his life
for his sheep.
Jesus our savior.

The shepherd got in the way, so that what was intended for us
landed on him. The full weight
of our sin.
No wonder people considered him cursed.
No one
deserves to die
in the place of another, no one deserves
to take on the death penalty.

But he did it. Without asking our permission, without demanding anything of us. Jesus carried the full burden, the weight, of our sin,
so that we don't need to carry it ourselves.

And so Good Friday
is a bittersweet time. Sweet
because this day of all days
we know that we are forgiven, totally forgiven.
There is no condemnation for us, no retribution, not punishment
from an angry God. We don't have to shoulder the burden of sin.
We are free, free to live our lives without fear; we are healed;
we are made whole. And at any other time
we would be full of celebration.

But this sweet day.
it is also bitter. Bitter
because our freedom, our forgiveness, our healing,
came at so great a cost.
The burden that we no longer have to carry
is carried by another, Jesus our Savior.
He hangs on a tree, he lies in a grave.
He died the death of a traitor, the object of pity, horror, even disgust.

And today, this bittersweet day
we call good,
we remember him.
He could have saved himself, but instead
he chose to save us .
We cannot save him.

But we can remember him, we can thank him, we can honor him.
Not just today
but in the whole of our lives,
offering ourselves as living sacrifices
to the glory of God. Amen.

 

Sermon ©Raewynne J. Whiteley 2006