Good Friday 

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That is such a heartbreaking story, and that music drives it home like nails piercing flesh.  The truth is that when we enact the passion narrative and hear or sing these gut-wrenching songs,

·      when we tell the story of Jesus being abandoned by his friends,

·      when we tell the story of Jesus being mocked, and spit upon, and humiliated,

·      when we remember the sharp thorns piercing his scalp,

·      when we see in our minds Jesus being scourged, flogged with a whip made of strips of leather with sharp pieces of lead embedded in them so that they would dig out pieces of skin and muscle,

·      when we feel the hard wood on torn flesh,

·      when the nails pierce,

·      when every breath is agony,  

·      when, near death, Jesus says to his mother, “Woman, here is your son,” and to his friend, “Here is your mother.”,

·      when Jesus finally bows his head and gives up his spirit,

the truth is that when we tell that story and sing these songs, I want to cry.  Every year.  I know some of you do cry.  One of the downsides of being a priest is that I don’t have the luxury of crying during Good Friday services.  But every year, I want to.  It is such a powerful and emotional story.

But I have another problem as a priest.  It just isn’t in me to just let something touch me with powerful emotions.  I can’t just cry, or want to cry, without asking this question: “But what does it mean?”  What does it mean? 

I know that there are people who never ask that question.  They either accept what somebody tells them it means or they just stay on an emotional level and don’t worry about what it means.  I sometimes fear that for those people, my question just muddies the waters.  But I can’t help it, so if questions of meaning are going to mess you up, close your ears.

But I want to know what this two thousand year old story of betrayal, torture, and death means in my life, in your life, in our relationship with God and one another now.  So let’s start by imagining that we are God.  (I hope this exercise will be a stretch for you!)  How would you deal with this rebellious human race that is simultaneously so wonderful and so terrible?  There are a number of options: annihilate, enslave, send a powerful political leader who will take control and run everything your way, send a powerful supernatural leader who will use miracles as carrots and sticks to manipulate these creatures into compliance. 

Annihilation, enslavement, control, manipulation — these are all effective methods that humanity has used since the beginning.  But here’s your problem; you aren’t human.  You are pure, undeserved love.  Absolute agape.  So what you want above all is a genuinely loving relationship with these creatures.  And annihilation, enslavement, control, manipulation just don’t get it.  You may get compliance, obedience, that way, but never love. 

So you come as one of them.  And that makes you vulnerable.  Not just seemingly vulnerable.  Really vulnerable.  So pure love, which is always vulnerable, walks among human beings.  And how does that work out?  With a story of betrayal, torture, and death. 

And how does that horror achieve God’s ends?  What does it mean?  It means the possibility, the possibility, of relationship.  It means God paying the price to invite us wonderful and terrible creatures into a loving relationship.  Because, I believe, we wonderful and terrible creatures need a crucified savior.  We need a savior who has been through this horror for the sake of being in relationship with us.

·      If you’ve ever been betrayed, or if you’ve ever betrayed someone and felt that there is no help for it, you need a crucified savior.

·      If you’ve ever been humiliated, or if you’ve ever humiliated anyone and felt terrible remorse, you need a crucified savior.

·      If you’ve ever been bitterly disappointed in a friend, or if you’ve ever bitterly disappointed a friend and felt that the relationship cannot be repaired, you need a crucified savior.

·      If you’ve ever known great physical pain, you need a crucified savior.

·      If you’ve ever known great emotional pain — felt lonely, isolated, abandoned, depressed or distressed — you need a crucified savior.

·      If you’ve ever wished that God’s way were easier, you need a crucified savior.

·      If you’ve ever felt that God was absent, nowhere to be found, you need a crucified savior

·      If you’ve ever feared death, and wished that this cup would pass from you, you need a crucified savior.

I could go on, but I hope you get the point.  Our savior entered into the heart of the suffering world in which we live.  When God invites us into relationship, it is not an invitation extended from the pristine palaces of heaven.  It is an invitation extended from someone who has been there. 

God will not annihilate, enslave, control, or manipulate.  God invites, and invites as one who, no matter what pain you know, has known such pain.

Today, we tell the two thousand year old story of the cost of this invitation.  But what will it mean in our lives, two thousand year later, today? 

God issues this painful, costly, heartbreaking invitation, but God will not coerce, control, or manipulate.  The next line in your story — is yours to write.

The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr.  St. John's   Episcopal Church, College Park , GA 30337 . 
 To comment on this sermon or to be placed on an email distribution list of sermons, contact rector@stjohnscollegepark.com. 

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