Good Friday; 2020

Three of the last seven words on the Cross.

From the cross comes a cry of lamentation.  “I Thirst”  

By now, Jesus, in his agony, is experiencing much grief.  Listen to what the prophet in Psalm 69 says in comparison; “Save me O God, for the waters have risen to my neck.  I am wearied with all my crying, my throat is parched.  My eyes are wasted away from looking for my God.  It is for you that I suffer taunts, that shame covers my face, that I have become a stranger to my neighbors, an alien to my own mother’s children.  I looked in vain for consolation, for consolers; not one could I find.  For food they gave me poison, in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.”  (cf Ps. 69: 21 - 22).  

A loud cry for help, though unheard, comes from one who lives in the silent world of Alzheimers Disease.  “I have become a stranger to my neighbors, an alien to my own mother’s children.”  This woman, living somewhere in our city, just existing in a very advanced stage of Alzheimers appears to take up space like a piece of furniture.  At times she utters unintelligible sounds as if she wishes to join in the conversations, but no one recognizes what it is she is saying.  Somewhere deep in the recesses of her brain is a message that desires to be heard.  This woman’s life is viable, she’s real, her very existence has meaning.  “She has become a stranger to her neighbor, an alien to her own mother’s children.”

Some years ago, in Florida, a tiny baby girl born without a complete brain (just a brain stem) laid in a hospital while her parents, the medical personnel, the news media, and the courts were deciding whether her life was viable, real, or had meaning.  What price did they then and now put on human life?  Very little I’m afraid.  “I am wearied with all my crying, my throat is parched, my eyes are wasted away from looking for my God.”

The inability of many, unjustly condemned, to voice an objection can only cringe in absolute pain as they become victims to abortion or euthanasia .  “I looked in vain for compassion, for consolers; not one could I find.”  “For food they gave me poison, in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.”

“Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit”

Usually most of us are not in control of the events that shape our lives.  No matter how much we try to establish the way in which our day will turn out, it somehow changes with each passing moment.

As the Gospel of John unfolds we find Jesus is in total control of all events in his life, especially now with the trial and crucifixion.  During the the dialogue between Jesus and Herod and Pilate, he is questioned in seven movements, inside and outside the praetorium.  He is not silent, as the other gospel accounts portray.  By his openness Jesus places the world on trial; “Now has judgement come upon the world!”  (see Jn. 12: 31).

Jesus is in control of his death, even on the cross.  Here, he hands over his spirit, willingly.  “I have the power to lay down my life, and the power to take it up again.”  (see Jn. 10: 18).

Even as John’s Gospel opens there is a sense of power in who Jesus is and will be; “In the beginning was the Word, the Word was in God’s presence, and the Word was God.”  Jesus came as the light for all, a light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.  He came to teach us the truth, and the truth has set us free.  As a teacher preparing students to let go and enter the world, Jesus arms his followers with self-confidence to continue the growth of the Kingdom of God.  Only through the power of his spirit will we be able to accomplish this.  Not until his spirit is given up willingly can we receive his spirit. 

This is why the events of Good Friday and the Resurrection are linked together as one total act of love, death and resurrection are inseparable.  Together they form the nucleus of our redemption.

“My God, My God, Why have You Forsaken Me?”

St. Mark uses this passage from Psalm 22, yet that lyric continues with “In you our fathers trusted, and you delivered them.  To you they cried, and they escaped; in you they trusted, and they were not put to shame.”  (see Psalm 22: 5-6)  This is not a cry of despair, but rather a sign of one suffering person placing all his trust in God.

We can listen to a beautiful canticle as it echoes throughout the church, and give God praise for so great a gift.  An eloquent speaker can lift our spirits, and God gets credit for blessing such a herald.  The cry of new life brings joy to our hearts as a baby enters the world, proclaiming its presence.  Great acclamation is given to God for all the wonderful things we perceive as being alright.

 Should we not also give praise to God when the melody of life rings a sour note?  Do we say that those afflicted with Alzheimers can no longer mirror the presence of God, since their response is not understood?  A type of praise that becomes silent instead of vocal.  Can we honestly proclaim that anyone hurting from poverty, social confusion, or despairing features is unable to represent the very love of God, even though unable to clearly state it?  Lives of untold millions suffering from Aids, Cancer, and other life threatening diseases have turned the cry of life to just hanging on to living.   Can we not recognize God in the lowly person who suffers?  

“Why God do I suffer and yet you do nothing?”  “If you would only hear my cry then this affliction would come to an end.” “ I go to sleep at night feeling rejection, struggling with pain, only to awaken the next morning seeing my losses are beyond counting.”  

Jesus, while in the Garden at Gethsemane, prayed, “O Father, you have the power to take this cup from me.  But let it be done as you would have it, not as I.”   (see Lk. 22: 42).      

Ralph B. Hathaway, Good Friday 2020