Jesus is dead. The
life - the bright promise has been extinguished and his followers stand in
darkness. Nothing left but a broken body and the broken dreams of his scattered
followers. The Realm of God has not come. The powerful remain powerful: the
oppressed remain oppressed -- and where there had been hope there is only despair.
Let's be
honest: we already know that this is not the end of the story. We come together
today for service with the Easter dress hanging in our closet; the flowers
ordered; the brunch planned and the candy ready to go in the baskets. We have
some idea how it ends.
Since we know
how it ends, why bother? I know a prominent church leader in the US who claimed
we should skip Good Friday and go straight to Easter, because people are turned
off by the story, and if we preach Easter they’re more likely to come to
church. My question was, how can Easter mean anything without the Friday part?
And that’s the
point. It’s a story about humanity as much as it is about Jesus – it’s a story
of jealousy and violence, and anger and hope. It’s a story played out all over
the world throughout the centuries since. Jealousy and anger, violence, fear, and
hope amidst that violence.
What do the
stories of Holy Week teach us? Who was upset by the Lazarus story? Who was
repelled by the teachings of Jesus? Who felt that Jesus was teaching false
doctrine? Who wanted this man to "go away"? Who was angry because he
got in their face, those who were interpreters of the Law, and told them they
were wrong? Who threatened the position of certain people?
It was the
righteous; the orthodox; the people who knew how to do it “correctly”. It was
the interpreters of the law, and all the convolutions of the law which had
evolved since Moses’ time. How can we hear this story and not be brought up
short by the sheer weakness, and yes, strength of humanity? The voices who
cried "Hosanna" and turned so quickly to the crowd which cried
"Crucify Him".
In the story,
it was the practice for one person to be set free at Passover. The religious
authorities had probably salted the crowd with people who would call for the
release of Jesus Bar-Abbas, not Jesus Bar-Joseph. I don’t think it’s any
coincidence that the story tells us there were two men both named Jesus. One
was a known insurrectionist and one was a preacher of a realm of peace. The
insurrectionist didn’t bother the religious and political leaders; the preacher
of peace threatened their very existence.
And as Jesus was
taken and crucified, the fearful stood by and allowed it to happen. When it
comes to taking a stand, we aren’t very good. Racism, bigotry, violence, greed,
addiction to power grow in strength. I personally don’t believe in evil
entities or sinful entities, but I do believe in evil things, and sinful
things; and if there is anything in the world which is truly evil, truly sin,
it’s the fear and unwillingness to stand when others are mistreated. Not what’s
comfortable or what’s easy – but what’s right. This story of Jesus’ death – a
political killing meant to be a lesson, is a story played out through the
centuries over and over and over – and we keep asking, “How often, how long?”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor, theologian, anti-Nazi dissident, and key
founding member of the Confessing Church. His writings on Christianity's role
in the secular world have become widely influential, and his book The Cost of
Discipleship became a modern classic.
He was known for his staunch resistance to the Nazis,
including vocal opposition to Hitler’s euthanasia program and persecution of
the Jews, including clear genocide. He was arrested in April 1943 by the Gestapo
and jailed at Tegel prison for one and a half years; he was transferred to a
Nazi concentration camp. He was instrumental in the plot to kill Hitler,
quickly tried along with other accused plotters, including former members of
the German Military Intelligence Office, and executed in April 1945 as the Nazi
regime was collapsing.
Archbishop Oscar Romero
was assassinated while offering communion. He commented that when he gave food
to the poor he was considered a saint, but when he asked why the poor had no
food, he was labelled a communist. He also noted that if we are not speaking a
Gospel which disturbs, upsets, then we are not preaching our story.
Another
anti-Nazi organizer, who later confessed to anti-Jewish sentiment, but who
still opposed Hitler, Martin Niemoller – said this:
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
As I was reading for
this sermon, I came across this quote:
"Faith is
what you are willing to die for. Dogma is what you are willing to kill
for."
Jesus spoke on
behalf of the poor, the oppressed, the hungry, the sick, the hurting. He was
probably afraid, as most would be, but he knew he had no choice but to speak
out regardless of cost. History is littered with people who are willing to give
their own lives to speak on behalf of the weak. And I want to make a
distinction – someone who truly has only the best of the weaker people at
heart, is willing to die for that belief but NOT willing to kill for it, nor
allow others to kill for it, nor brainwash others to kill for it.
He came with a
willingness to die for the sake of the message that the Realm of God is right
within our grasp, right now, if we practice inclusiveness and compassion. The
reason that realm is not here, is because few, when threatened, are willing to
speak up and say ‘Yes, I was with him. Yes, I do know him.”
In fact, it’s precisely
because we do know the end of the story, that we can stand in faith not just on
Good Friday, but wherever and whenever we face the choice between
self-preservation and true compassion. Ideally, what Jesus teaches us through
Good Friday is that our faith is to die for: if we kill in the name of faith,
it is dogma.
So out of Good
Friday we have to proclaim a Gospel that can truly enter into those places of
darkness and suffering, where compassion
and solidarity are the only gifts we have to give. It is ours to give, because
as disciples of Jesus, we follow where he went. It is ours to give to the gays
who are beaten to death, for the black men who are shot just for being black, to
the trans people who are discriminated against just because, for the indigenous
who sit behind bars, the Leonard Peltiers of the world; Muslims being attacked;
our native communities which have been ignored for decades – if we speak and
stand with them we stand again with Jesus, and we say “Yes, I do know him. Yes
I am with him.”
Sources:
Jesus is Dead by San Pedro Susan Russell John 18:1-19:42
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