Good Friday: April 6, 2012

GOOD FRIDAY 2012

April 6, 2012

PREACHER:

Pastor Carrie Smith

John 18:1-19:42

“Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. ²⁶When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ ²⁷Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.”

♪Jesus, keep me near the cross;

there a precious fountain,

free to all, a healing stream,

flows from Calvary's mountain.

Refrain
In the cross, in the cross,

be my glory ever,

till my raptured soul

shall find rest beyond the river.

It’s difficult to picture Mary, the mother of Jesus, standing near the cross. How does a mother watch a son die? How did she not lash out with anger at those who were causing him pain? How did she survive those six long hours as he suffered there before her?

Scripture doesn’t tell us how Mary felt, or what she said, as she stayed there near the cross. We don’t know if she stood silently, if she wailed loudly, or if she argued with the soldiers. We only know that she was accompanied there by her sister, by Mary Magdalene, and by the disciple Jesus loved. The rest is left to our imagination.

But for most of us, we don’t have to stretch our imaginations too far to know what those hours were like. If we’ve lived life at all, we’ve known suffering. If we’ve loved at all, we’ve known loss. And perhaps we can therefore relate to Mary’s need to stay there, near the cross, and to experience each moment, even when those moments are almost unbearable.

In my experience as a pastor, I’ve stood with others who, like Mary, remained steadfast at the foot of the cross: Parents who sit vigil at a hospital bed for days. Spouses who act as caregivers for ailing partners, year after year. Families who stand by loved ones struggling with mental illness or addiction. Friends who stay with the grief-stricken through long nights of doubt and sorrow.

I don’t know Mary’s pain of losing a son in a public execution. I have, however, lost much-loved and longed-for babies. My spouse and I have suffered three miscarriages over the years. And while I’m grateful I don’t know what it’s like to watch my child suffer and die like Mary did, I do know what it’s like to ache for my child. And I know what it’s like to want to hang on to the moment, and to stay present at the cross, no matter how painful it seems.

For me, it was the last day of being pregnant that I wished would last forever. I would cling to those hours of hope before the lab tests came back--dreaming of names and planning for the future. And then, even when things looked grim, I would still cling to each moment, still pregnant with hope, making bargains with God, if only my child could be saved. I would have endured bed-rest for months. I would have taken vitamins, injected hormones, and suffered anything necessary for a successful pregnancy. “Jesus, keep me near the cross”, I prayed. I would have stayed there forever, if it could have made any difference.

What was Mary thinking in those hours at the foot of the cross? If Jesus, the Son of God, felt forsaken on the cross, how must Mary have felt? After all, the God who had chosen her for this role as blessed virgin, theotokos, mother of our Lord, was now the same God who allowed her beloved son to be crucified. Did she bargain with God? Did she pray for more time, or did she just pray his suffering would end? Did she, like Jesus, feel abandoned and alone?

Mary may have felt alone, but Scripture tells us that Jesus remembered her. Even in his suffering, he cared for his mother. He didn’t send her away so she wouldn’t have to see. He didn’t tell her not to cry or not to be angry. And, most importantly, he didn’t magically take away her pain and suffering. But seeing her there, his heart was turned toward her and toward the disciple he loved, and from the cross he provided for their mutual care and companionship. “Woman, here is your son.” he said. Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.”

This moment is so important to Christian tradition that it is honored as one of the Stations of the Cross. We linger here, at this point in the story, because it’s a moment that tells us much about Jesus, about the cross, and about our own suffering.

Caring for his mother and the beloved disciple in his last moments, Jesus shows us that in death, as in life, he was about giving to others. From the cross he gave Mary a new son to care for her. In the same way, he gives us all the promise of new life.

Reaching out in love even as he struggled to breathe and to withstand great physical pain, Jesus shows us that the cross doesn’t have the last word. No matter what the powers and principalities of this world may do to us, nothing can take away our humanity or destroy our spirit: neither oppression, nor disease, and nor even death.

And above all, joining his mother and beloved friend in a bond of companionship , he taught us something about our own suffering. When we are standing at the foot of the cross, facing something unimaginable—the death of a loved one, a medical diagnosis, a life crisis, or the death of a relationship—Jesus is there, too. He knows our suffering. He looks upon us with love. And he provides for us, joining us together in the bonds of community, in mutual care, in prayer, and in love for one another.

French poet Paul Claudel wrote: “Jesus did not come to explain suffering nor to take it away; he came to fill it with his presence.” As we gather tonight near the cross, standing vigil with Mary and her sister, Mary Magdalene and the disciple Jesus loved, we pray for the strength to remain here. And we give thanks to God for Jesus Christ, who knows our suffering; who is with us in our pain; and who by his suffering and death has redeemed the world. Amen.