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| The empty nave of All Saints, Birmingham, AL |
April 10, 2020—Good Friday
Lord,
let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your
people be cunning enough to know the same. Amen.
Today
is Good Friday. It is a day when the Church typically huddles close together, hears
the story of Our Savior’s death, and prays for the salvation of the world. Of
all the services of the entire Church Year, it may be the most stark, bare, and
bleak. Today is Good Friday, but in the midst of a Global Pandemic, yesterday felt
like Good Friday, and the day before, and the day before that too. And, even
though tomorrow night at the Easter Vigil we will unleash our prayers and
praises of God who triumphs over death, tomorrow may very well feel like Good
Friday, and I suspect even Easter morning too.
The
fact that the Church is not physically gathered together on this day shatters
my heart into a million pieces. It breaks my heart—it stops me up short. So, I
know not what brought you here, what caused you to tune into this service, if
you always come, if you were curious about this service, or if you are
heartbroken like me, but whatever brought you, please know that this is a safe
place for you. And if you are falling apart know that I am right there with
you. This is a safe haven in which we can see the crumbling reality of our
world and feel the brokenness of where we are.
Even
though it is probably not the healthiest thing given the state of my heart,
soul, and mind, I keep reading firsthand accounts from doctors and nurses and
health experts. I keep listening to stories of what is happening to people of
all ages, nations, races, and creeds—there aren’t enough masks, gowns, gloves,
and shields to protect our front-line healthcare workers. There are not enough
tests to determine where and to whom COVID-19 is spreading. Many families with school-aged
children are now forced to balance teaching and working at the same time. Students
are distance learning and grieving the loss of so many things to which they
were looking forward. Others who live alone may be feeling more isolated than
they previously did.
And,
some people have lost their livelihoods, their loved ones, and maybe even their
own lives sometimes in the same week. These stories describe the awful time through
which we are living, a dismal reality that many of us were not acquainted with
just a few weeks ago.
Pain,
illness, suffering, sorrow, anguish, loss, grief, dying, and death are nothing
new. We just have not all experienced these challenging life circumstances
simultaneously as an entire planet, at least not in quite some time. Maybe we
have never gone through this, on this scale, to this extent. But, God has.
God’s
Son, Christ Jesus suffered. He experienced pain, sorrow, and anguish; he dealt
with loss and grief, dying, and even death. In the Passion Narrative we just
heard a follower betrayed Jesus into the hands of the powerful who wished to
stop Jesus’ movement of love. Jesus’ chief disciple denied him three times
before the sun rose on this day long ago. Most of the rest of his followers
deserted him, while those in power tossed Jesus back and forth until he was
beaten, mocked, and hung from a painful torture device, which was meant not
only to kill but to humiliate in the process.
Audaciously,
we still call this day Good Friday. And, maybe it is good, though not
simply because of what lies ahead—not only because of what we hope will happen
next in the story, nor what we trust God will do in the end. This day is good
because on it, Jesus showed us the ultimate response to all that is broken in
this world, in our communities, and in ourselves.
We
so often refer to God as almighty, but today we see in Jesus that God is not
only almighty, but also all-vulnerable. Jesus the Christ through whom all
things were made was not celebrated, revered, or even recognized by his own
creation. He came into the world and the world comprehended him not. If God
were only almighty, we may expect vengeance from the cross, but that was not
the way Jesus expressed strength. Instead, he drew all things to himself
through complete self-emptying. Thus, our Savior was installed not at a capitol
adorned with marble stone, or on a throne forged of gold, but on a cross hewn
of wood. But this was not the only time Jesus displayed this self-giving love.
When
throughout Jesus’ life he cared for those who were forgotten, isolated, or
outcast he showed this love. When he healed the disabled, fed the hungry, and
hung out with the wrong crowd, he modeled this love. When at the Last Supper Jesus
knelt to wash the filth from his disciples’ feet, he revealed this love. When
he commanded his friends to love one another just as he loved them, this love, my
friends, is what Jesus meant. This love, this self-emptying love makes Good
Friday good. We hear of this love in words that we have frequently been praying
in Morning Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on
the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your
saving embrace.”[1]
Today
as we stare up at Jesus hanging on the cross, we observe the love that God has
for each one of us. We see it as Jesus’ arms extend towards all of humanity. Even
as our vision gets obscured during this time of brokenness, isolation, and
anxiety always God’s love shines upon us.
This
love beams down not only as a way for God to right some eternal wrong committed
by us human beings, but also as a different way for us to walk into the future.
As one wise teacher put it, God’s love from the cross is not merely atonement,
righting a wrong, but also at-one-ment. That is Jesus bringing all things together
as one—drawing the whole world into his loving embrace.[2]
Through Jesus we see the size, scope, and magnitude of God’s love, which does
not magically end the pain of this world, the coronavirus pandemic, or the inevitable
truth of death. Rather, in Jesus’ Passion we ultimately see that God the
Almighty willingly gets down on our level, suffers with us, and even dies, as
the most vulnerable one.
God
unites with us. And, in God’s unity with our own brokenness we see something
clearly. We observe strangely that this day is good. However, it may not have
always been called Good Friday.
This
day was once called God’s Friday. It was God’s day to express the primacy of
love, to show us what ultimate love looks like. Somewhere along the way, like
so many phrases within the English language, the phrase was mispronounced, and God
became good.[3]
While this day is good, right now it feels more helpful for us to call it God’s
Day. And, on God’s day we are invited to embrace our vulnerability and to live in
radical, unconditional love. But, this isn’t always easy.
This
last month has essentially felt like one long Good Friday. It is as if we have
been stuck not on Groundhog’s Day, but on this day. What if though we shift
from nonstop Good Friday to everyday being God’s day? Wouldn’t that transform
something within us? Every day is truly God’s Day. I know Church
scholars out there will argue that the Lord’s Day is Sunday, but right now all
these days are running together anyway. So, why not think of everyday as God’s
Day? Because every day God is here with us.
Every
day is God’s Day because there is not a moment we experience in life in which
Christ is not living with us. Christ Jesus experiences our pain, illness,
suffering, sorrow, anguish, loss, grieving, dying, and death with us because he
was well acquainted with these in his own life. This day, this Good Friday,
which is truly God’s Day, was the day when God forever united Godself and us. God
through Jesus destroyed all separation that exists between earth and heaven, us
and God, divinity and humanity.
Today
is Good Friday, but if tomorrow or the next day feels like Good Friday remember
that every day is God’s day. Remember that every day God overcomes anything and
everything between God and us. Remember that every day Our Almighty God freely
becomes the All-Vulnerable One living with us, suffering with us, and even dying
with us. And for that, thanks be to God.
[1]The Episcopal Church. The Book of Common Prayer. New York: Church Publishing, 1979, 101.
[2] Rohr, Richard. Center for Action and Contemplation.
October 12, 2016. https://cac.org/nonviolent-atonement-one-ment-2016-10-12/ (accessed
April 5, 2020).
[3] “Who,
What, Why: Why is Good Friday called Good Friday?” BBC Magazine Monitor.
April 18, 2014. https://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-magazine-monitor-27067136
(accessed April 10, 2020).
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