Sermon for Good Friday, April 3
Over the past six years, Good Friday has become less of an abstract idea and more of a lived experience. We have seen so much pain and sorrow. When before the world seemed to make some modicum of sense, now there doesn’t seem to be any logic to it. The old practices have fallen away and have been replaced by chaos. There are no more standards or accountability. We endured a pandemic and rather than that becoming a moment when we were galvanized and in which we came together as a global community, we saw division and fracturing on grounds hitherto unimagined. Even in a person’s own family, those who are pro-vaccine and lockdown measures and those who are ani-vaccine and anti-lockdown measures form battle lines that are still drawn, years after the pandemic no longer occupies every waking moment of our lives.
War rages, war that even now threatens to spill over into more and more territory. How long, we wonder, until it becomes a World War and will the dreaded nuclear arsenals finally come to bear? We have leaders who seem to hunger for war and power. There is no satiating their appetites and the innocents are the ones who pay the price.
Old prejudices, once seemingly on the retreat, have now raised their ugly heads. Racism seems to be applauded in many places, where before it was seen as nothing short of barbarism. The young Indian man, Birinder Singh, found out the fatal truth that racism is still very much alive in this part of the world and now his family is left to grieve his death. Sexism, agism, ableism, and a who list of other isms all seem to be on the rise. No longer do we seem to be a world that cares about the lost and the least. We have forgotten that we are called to look after all people and now many are paying with their very lives. To try and stand up for the rights of another often gets you slapped with the label of “Woke”, as if trying to make sure that all people have a chance to live and thrive is somehow an abhorrent and divergent thing to do.
The world around us is breaking down so fast that we can not even adapt to the changes. The heat waves we have seen so far this year don’t bode well for the farmers and ranchers who work to supply food to the world. Every year it seems like it is harder to produce a crop. Every year, we see the moisture deficit increase, even in years where we have a decent snow fall. Everything seems to be flying apart.
It must have felt that way for the disciples, as they watched their master die. To be fair, most had already fled, but for those who stayed with Christ to bear witness to his execution, it must have felt like everything they thought they knew was slipping away. Nothing made sense. Worse than that, their own lives were now likely in danger. It would have been with great sadness and fear that they would have heard Jesus utter the words “It is finished” and then die.
It is a grim story. Our world is full such stories. And if we were left to sit in the darkness, then the fear and despondency that we have when confronted with the way of our world would be triumphant. There wouldn’t be any hope left.
But we aren’t left in the darkness because the story doesn’t end there. The story didn’t end at the cross. Rather, the power of the cross, in which was bound all the pain and suffering that Imperial Rome and all the power and principalities of this world could inflict upon us, was broken. The innocent one, wrongfully accused, as so many in our world are, walked out from the tomb and into the risen life of God. Jesus rose again, and in rising, shattered the tendrils of chaos and destruction that had sought to imprison him. Love was not silenced. It lived. Jesus lived and all the life and love he had come to represent lived on with him.
We might think we are witnessing the collapse of all that is good in our world. We might think that chaos is soon to have the upper hand and everything will be laid to ruin. But like with the disciples, God breaks in. The cross has been emptied and the tomb abandoned. Life, even now, still finds a way. We see it in the voices that still cry for justice, whether that is for the natural world, or for our human siblings. We see it in our interactions with one another, interactions that indicate that we are creatures that still desire love and human contact, even in difficult times. We see it because, despite the darkest moments of these last six years, there is still hope. There is still love. There is still goodness and because these things exist, we know that God is still active, still present in our lives, still inspiring us to be the best we can be for the sake of the other.
I think back on the story of Mary and Martha, read a couple of weeks ago in our Sunday worship. In that story, the sisters were confronted with the grief over the death of their brother Lazarus and the fear of what would come next. Without a male relative, their prospects were going to be grim. Yet, their dear friend Jesus, whom they loved, came to them and brought their brother back. Jesus restored hope when it seemed like all hope was lost.
It still happens now. This is Good Friday because on this day, the power of chaos and hate are broken. These powers will not have the final word. Let me say that again. These powers will not have the final word. As the power of the cross is broken and God’s love prevails in this moment, so that moment echoes through eternity. That is why hope, even when it seems like hope should fade away, never dies. It won’t die, because God will have the final word. Love will have the final word.
And how do we respond. We keep going. We keep doing what God has called us to do, whatever that might be, because it is necessary. And we can give thanks. Even on this day, we can give thanks. We can be like Mary, who, when she encounters Jesus again after her brother is given back to her, bathes Jesus’ feet with nard and wipes them with her hair in an act of pure love and gratitude. Thus, even as we are striving for justice so that the chaos does not have full sway, we can also give thanks to our Saviour, who gave us everything, even our very own selves.
The world is dark and grim. But of the power of the cross is broken. Hate, and chaos, and pain will not have the final say. Hope will prevail. Love will win and for that we say, thanks be to God.
Amen