God's Triumph: In Light of the Resurrection

Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters); and they called together the whole cohort. And they clothed him in a purple cloak; and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on him. And they began saluting him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but he did not take it. And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take.

It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” And with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also taunted him.

When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

There were also women looking on from a distance; among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. These used to follow him and provided for him when he was in Galilee; and there were many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem. --Mark 15:16-41 (NRSV)

I’ve been thinking alot over these past few days about the words spoken by Jesus. The only words spoken by him on the cross. In both Mark and Matthew. And, in Mark, the last words that He will speak on earth.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? These words of lament spoken by Jesus from Psalm 22. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

If you noticed, they were spoken at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, just 3 hours after everything had grown dark. In the middle of the day - darkness. At a time when things should be brightest. Instead, everything is dark. 

In scripture, the imagery of darkness is often used as an apocalyptic portrayal of God’s judgment. Is this what Jesus was feeling when he spoke these words? Was he feeling the weight of God’s judgment? Or was he, perhaps, feeling as though God had abandoned him completely? After all, everyone else had. His disciples. Peter. Now God?

One has to wonder at his lament. Surely, Jesus knew that this wouldn’t be the end. He had predicted his own death on the cross. He, too, had predicted his resurrection. Yet, in the midst of his crucifixion. In the midst of the pain and agony he is suffering from this cruel means of torture, used only by the Romans for political revolutionaries. In the midst of dying, it is as though Jesus has simply forgotten everything he knows. As he suffers, feeling isolated and abandoned, he cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

I wonder if, in this time in which we are living, we cry the very same words. Where is God in the midst of this pandemic? Has God abandoned us we wonder? I even recently read a post on Facebook where someone had commented that, occasionally, God lifts the veil of protection from us. Really? The God who comes to us on earth, who shows his very nature in the suffering Jesus, chooses not to protect us?

But, isn’t this where we go in the midst of our own suffering and confusion? When everything we know seems to be falling down around us. When we have socially distanced ourselves into complete isolation. When we feel alone and abandoned. At the mercy of an evil we can’t even see or touch. Don’t we cry out, just as Jesus did, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

We don’t like to admit this. Our fear. Our sense of isolation. And, mostly, our sense of loss. Our grief. Particularly in the church when we are so accustomed to gathering together each week. And, then, during this Holy Week, when we are unable to gather on these holiest of days. It is hard for us to admit this grief over all of the loss we are feeling in the midst of this time. Because it is easier to be Easter people than it is to be Good Friday people. When death and loss and grief and, like Jesus, our own fear of abandonment meets us head-on.

But isn’t this why God in Jesus came? To experience our very humanity? Our fear and grief and our sense of abandonment? To meet us where we are. To bring us peace.

I’m particularly struck by the closing verses of tonight’s reading. About the women. These verses are the first time in Mark that any women are named. These women, who have been following Jesus, who have cared for and provided for him in the rural parts of Galilee, who have not abandoned him, but who are still there.

It’s a reminder for us, that even in these times of isolation and what may feel like abandonment, God remains with us. In the connections we have with one another. God is still there. And, it is in these connections, even in the darkest of times where God, who knows our fear and our pain and our grief, meets us. In love. Bringing us new life. 

A few days, one of my fellow pastors died in our synod.  Rev. Dick Hunt. I never knew him. But I learned that, for every day of the past 20 years, Pastor Hunt had written a haiku poem. This was the one included in his obituary, entitled “God Delights In Us.”

Alive or dead God

delights in us because love

knows what death feels like

knows what grief and mourning feel

like to search through what is lost

to find the light of new life.

May we, on this Good Friday, trust that God has not abandoned us, but continues to be present. That God continues to meet us in these darkest of times. And that God will lead us through the darkness to find the light of new life. This is not the end, but only the beginning. Amen.

Preached April 10, 2020 online with Grace & Glory Lutheran Church and Shiloh United Methodist, Goshen, KY.

Good Friday

Readings: Psalm 22:1-2, 14-21; Mark 15:16-39