The First Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Anne Kitch
"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Luke 23:34
Jesus, hangs on the cross. Jesus, the son of God. Jesus, the divine one. Jesus who taught his disciples to forgive seventy time seven. Jesus cannot forgive. His words are not, “I forgive you,” but, “Father, you forgive them.” Jesus asks, in fact commands God to forgive. God, you forgive them. The verb tense he uses for forgive is an imperative*. It is not an entreaty, but a command. Or perhaps, a plea? Jesus, who is fully divine on the cross, must have the power to forgive. Yet, Jesus who is fully human on the cross, does not have the will to forgive. Even so, he still has the grace to know that forgiveness is what it means to be God’s own, to be God’s son, to be a human being in love with God. Jesus, who cannot forgive them the cross, flings it to God. You do it. I can’t.
Too often we think of forgiveness as the same as acquittal. If we forgive someone then it must be as if the hurt never happened. Forgive and forget. But forgiveness is not acquittal at all. There is still the hurt. The consequences of the action remain. The effects of hurt and of sin do not disappear. The suffering that accompanies sin is very real. True forgiveness does not mask the suffering, does not deny it, does not try to pretend that nothing ever happened. Should Jesus try to pretend that the cross doesn’t matter, that’s it’s OK? Should we?
To offer forgiveness that honors the suffering requires a measure of love that is often beyond our human limitations. There are wounds which we cannot forgive. There are wounds which take us years to forgive. At this moment on the cross, Jesus cannot afford years. So he flings his life, and his suffering and his need to forgive into God’s hands. Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. It is beyond Jesus. But it is not beyond God.
*See The Force of Forgiveness, Minka Sprague in The Living Pulpit, 2005. Pulpit.org
The Second Word from the Cross
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
"One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ But the other rebuked him, saying, ‘Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’ " Luke 23:39-43
Jesus had been silent for a long time. Praying, perhaps. Focused on his pain, perhaps. Listening to the taunts, perhaps, of the mob, of the authorities, of the soldiers; listening to the taunt of the man hanging beside him, perhaps.
Those hung on the crosses beside him must have known about him; must have heard, at least, of his parade into Jerusalem, heard of his audacious and rambunctious behavior at the temple, heard of some of the claims about him. Heard enough for one to taunt him, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ If taunting it was, and not a desperate prayer of a desperate man in a desperate situation.
And the second thief certainly knew something about him, and having heard and having nothing to lose and everything to hope for, he asked, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
Who did he think he was? Speaking of audacious! The likes of him asking for a place reserved for the disciples; to be in the presence of Jesus when he comes into his kingdom. Scum of the earth. Robber of the poor, taking from those who had nothing! At least he knew that his punishment on the cross was just. But still, the impertinence to ask, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
But look at his faith. If he had been present with Jesus in his ministry and seen what Jesus did and heard what Jesus said, If he had been at the synagogue in Nazareth, if he had been on the hillside, if he had been at Capernaum, if he had been on the shore of Galilee, if he had been in Bethany when Lazarus died, if he had seen Jesus strong and sure at the top of his game and in his element, you might imagine that he would, that he could, have faith that strong.
But here he is next to this crucified man. Hair matted with blood, body beaten, bloody and bruised, slowly dying in the hot sun, body sagging lower and lower on the cross. This was no star prophet. This was no champion miracle worker. This was a criminal dying on the cross of a criminal.
‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
Probably not even knowing what he was asking, what it meant to ask such a thing, he had enough faith to ask. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to prevail. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to overcome. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to come into his kingdom. Faith the size of a mustard seed and faith strong enough to transcend death on a cross. What a faith!
And what an answer! ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’
Jesus had been silent for a long time, but he heard that man’s prayer and he answered it.
If Jesus would answer the prayer of that thief at that moment is such a wonderful way, how do you think he will answer your prayer?
The Third Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Jane Teter
"Woman, here is your son…Here is your mother." John 19:23-27
"When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says, “They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” And that is what the soldiers did. Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home." John 19:23-27
As we approach this scene, we see that there are four women standing with John at the foot of the cross. There is Mary, Jesus’ mother, and his mother’s sister, Salome – the mother of James and John, the sons of Zebedee. There is Mary, the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene, who owed so much to our Lord. We know very little about Mary the wife of Clopas, some think he was the brother of Joseph, Jesus’ step-father.
The four women are watching the four soldiers as they argue about dividing Jesus’ clothing after he was hanging on the cross. Very possibly these women were the ones who made these garments, as they provided for Jesus and his apostles. And here are the soldiers casting lots for his tunic. How must these women have felt? These women loved this Man as no man had ever been loved. One had borne him in her womb and suckled him at her breast. Of course Mary had been warned that a sword would pierce her own heart, but how could she imagine her son being dragged through the streets of Jerusalem, beaten, made to carry his cross, stripped naked and nailed to that cross.
While lots were being cast, Jesus looks down from the cross. He is almost at the end of his struggle. His words from the cross had been for others, his enemies, his executioners (Father, forgive them); for the penitent thief (Today you will be with me in paradise). Now he looks down and sees his Mother and John, the beloved disciple, and he delivers her into John’s keeping: “Woman, behold your son; behold your mother.” And John took her to his own home from that very hour. Even in his suffering, Jesus was concerned about his mother and who would care for her. It was an act of concern, of love, of putting his human affairs in order.
William Temple suggests that Jesus wanted John to take Mary away at that very moment, sparing her his final dying moments. We do not know for sure, but we do know that John was there at the end. I think that Mary was there also – in all of her anguish, it would have been difficult to drag her away. This was her son, dying a horrible death. How must Mary have felt – helpless, being unable to do anything to save her Son. There was nothing she could do to make this go away, to make it better. All she could do was watch and pray. (Many of you have been in situations where you have felt this way – helpless, unable to do anything. But, perhaps, being present and praying is enough).
Ann Weems wrote a poem entitled: Even Now
She stands
beneath him dying
and will not be persuaded to leave,
despite the urging of the others.
They huddle against her
in an effort to hold her
against the pain,
but she stands erect,
unleaning,
her eyes upon his face.
From the hillside
the sounds of weeping and wailing
hang heavy in the air,
but she who held him
in a stable in Bethlehem
stands silent
beneath his cross in Jerusalem,
her heart pondering still,
her soul magnifying the Lord,
her spirit praising God,
knowing even now
that she is blessed among women.
The Fourth Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Bill Lewellis
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Mark 15:34
"I had a revelation during last evening’s Eucharist. The preacher helped. I recognized that what Jesus was really saying to Peter when Peter made his protest about letting Jesus wash his feet was, “Ah, Peter, let me love you.”
This afternoon, I know that the meaning of Good Friday, too, is God’s incredible love for us. Incredible. Hard to believe. Hard to believe because, for any number of reasons, we find it difficult to accept love and simply say thank you. We’d prefer fair play – forgetting, perhaps, that if God were merely fair, we wouldn’t stand a chance.
God’s word to us today, as I hear it, is: Let God love you. Let God love you.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Two of the gospel writers, Matthew and Mark, say simply that Jesus said these words from the cross before he died. What they don’t say is whether the words on Jesus’ lips were an utterance of prayer or a cry of utter despair.
A prayer? Well, the words are the beginning of Psalm 22, which Jesus knew from the Jewish scriptures.
Despair? The psalm is filled with sounds of despair:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
and are so far from my cry
and from the words of my distress?
O my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer;
by night as well, but I find no rest.
I am a worm and no man,
Scorned and despised by the people.
All who see me laugh me to scorn;
They curl their lips and wag their heads, saying,
“He trusted in the Lord, let him deliver him;
let him rescue him, if he delights in him.
And later in the psalm, the Contemporary English Version of the psalm reads:
You, God, have left me to die in the dirt.
Sounds to me from those verses like a cry of despair.
But take a look at how Psalm 22 reads over all. It’s one of many examples in the scriptures that one-verse proofing proves nothing.
Most of Psalm 22 moves quickly, two to three verses at a time, from cries of utter desperation to prayers of complete trust.
Here are a few of the verses I purposely skipped:
Yet (a crucial word, it seems, in the scriptures) …
Yet you are the Holy One,
enthroned upon the praises of Israel.
Our forefathers put their trust in you;
they trusted, and you delivered them.
They cried out to you and were delivered
they trusted in you and were not put to shame.
Then, a few more verses of despair ... after which we read:
Yet you are he who took me out of the womb,
and kept me safe upon my mother’s breast.
I have been entrusted to you ever since I was born,
you were my God when I was still in my mother’s womb.
Be not far from me, for trouble is near,
and there is none to help.
Utter despair or complete trust?
For me … both.
After all, Jesus was truly human.
I want to tell you something that, for most of my adult life, has been crucial to my relationship with Jesus.
Before doing so, however, let me say this: I can’t think of a time in my life that I did not believe in God in Jesus. I have always believed in … and I set my heart today on God in Jesus.
For most of my adult life, however, it has been crucial to my relationship with Jesus to think that Jesus lived his life without knowing how things were going to turn out … that he was not an actor who knew the ending of the script. I believe in the true man in Jesus. I set my heart on Jesus as true man.
Because Jesus was truly human, he had no more (and no less) reason to trust God than you and I do. He had the tradition. He had the scriptures. It seems he knew them well. He had friends. He had prayer.
Those who wrote the gospels (after the resurrection) knew then more than Jesus (when he walked his way of the cross) about how things would turn out. That is crucial for me. Otherwise, I would have to believe Jesus, when he suffered and died, was simply a good actor. And if I believed Jesus were an actor, I could not believe that he understands how I think, how I feel, how I can live through hills and valley of prayer and despair … how I struggle to understand myself.
Though I set my heart on both the man and the God in Jesus, though it is crucial to know in faith that the man on the cross was God, believing that Jesus did not know he was God has in crucial ways meant more to me than believing he was.
The man on the cross did not know he was God. But he trusted, in the face of evidence to the contrary, that God loved him, that God delighted in him. The God on the cross loved the man on the crorss – passing over with him through death to new life.
On this Good Friday, may we know God’s incredible love for us. Let God love you. Let God love you.
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
The Fifth Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Joel Atkinson
"I thirst." John 19:28
there are all kinds of thirst.
the thirst of one in an arid place
a place where lips
and skin are parched
a place where the tongue clings
to roof of one’s mouth
jesus considering what he’d been through
had to have felt deeply
this kind of physical thirst
those who offered vinegar
to quench his thirst
obviously thought so
“I THIRST!”
i believe his thirst was deeper
than this parching kind of thirst
perhaps he thirsted for all
his dying so young
would cause him to miss in life
no wife
no family
never the satisfaction of living to a ripe old age
surrounded by those he loved
jesus knew authorities
both national and roman
viewed him a dangerous man
possibly a revolutionary
a trouble maker
an upsetter of the apple cart
maybe even a terrorist threat
jesus had to have known
humiliation and execution
were in the realm of possibility
jesus cried in dread and fear of all the things
other mortals might make him bear
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
yet though existential dreads and losses were felt
i believe his deepest thirsty cry
was of another sort
“My God my God why have you forsaken me!”
maybe jesus in his anguished thirsty cry
sought assurance from god
his life had not been in vain
abandoned by pledgers of allegiance to his ministry
now suffering excruciating mental
physical and
spiritual pain
he must have ask
where’s the father he so loved
and ever sought to mind?
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
yet I believe there was even a deeper kind of thirst he felt
as his life lost focus
in the seeming denial of all his life had meant
in the anguish he personally felt
he cried forgiveness
in an incomprehensible leap of faith
‘cause from his lips issued hope
to another suffering
upon a neighboring bloody tool of death
“Today you will be with me in paradise.”
a cry of thirst for life
not just for that dying thief
but in that affirmation of hope
in the midst death
for that thief
himself
and all of us as well
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
one more thirst remains
he thirsted
for all who knew his life
for all who’d heard his words
for all who’d witnessed his deeds
for all who’d met him
for even those who knew him not
that they will come to know the loving Father he had known
that they would seek
to make real the love of God they’d felt
and that all God’s children
with that thief and himself
would finally and most fully
be enfolded into the eternal life of God.
The Sixth Word from the Cross
The Ven Richard I. Cluett
"When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit." John 19:30
He gave it up. He gave it over. The work of Jesus of Nazareth is done. All is finished, but nothing is lost. His spirit rests on you and me and the church.
There does come a time, doesn’t it when we need to say, “It’s over.” “Let it go.” “Give it up.” “Move on.” “It is finished.”
“On the seventh day God finished the work he had done, and on the seventh day he rested from all the work he had done.” Genesis 2:2
It’s time to put away childish things and grow up, childhood is finished. A marriage is begun, being priority number one is finished. The job is finished. A relationship ends, it is finished. Our abilities are impaired and it’s time to stop driving, it is finished. Eventually we will die, it will be finished.
Acknowledge the inevitable? Perhaps. Recognize reality? Perhaps. Admit to our finitude? Perhaps. For everything there is a season? Perhaps.
How do we do it, though? That is the question. How do we let it go? How do we give it up? How do we move on? How do we finish?
Do we rage and storm? Sturm and drang? Curse God and die? Or do we go gently into that good night, that future, that next stage?
All finishes contain the opportunity to trust – or not? Finishing school and going out into the work-a-day world. Finishing work and going into retirement? Finishing this life. All are opportunities for trust and for grace. Endings are part of all life.
It is because Jesus finished that we can end whatever needs ending safely, with trust and grace. Jesus has given us his spirit, and one another, and hope, and eternal life and, and, and, and...
It is safe to say, it is okay to say, “It is finished” when it is finished.
The Seventh Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Anne Kitch
"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Luke 23:46
I don’t know what it is like to die. I don’t know if there is that moment, when you are being killed, that you realize that you are going to die and that it is all going to end. I don’t know if there is a conscious moment when you can make one final act of will, one final choice to let go. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. The final action of Jesus on the cross, Jesus’ final choice, is to let go. But it is more than that. It is to give. His final act is to give himself, to offer himself, to place himself in God’s hands. Jesus dying act is to entrust himself to a loving father. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.
Into your hands. What are God’s hands like?
It’s elements were unremarkable: a basin, a pitcher of water, and a towel. As we celebrated Maundy Thursday here in this Cathedral last night, a father and child came forward for the ritual foot washing. The father sat in a wooden chapel chair as the child knelt at his feet. They were unobserved by most in the congregation who were singing a hymn at the time. The father placed his bare feet in the basin, the young child carefully poured warm water on them, then picked them up one by one and held them in her small hands. She gently washed each one, intent on her task. This was not a symbolic act for her. There was nothing perfunctory in her movements. Her hands held his feet fast. He gave himself over into her care. It was loving. It was safe. It was redeeming.
Into your hands I commend my spirit. These words on the lips of Jesus are quoted from a psalm (Psalm 31:5). What are God’s hands like?
God’s hands, which lovingly created the world:
In the beginning, O Lord, you laid the foundations of the earth and the heavens are the work of your hands (Psalm 102:25)
God’s hands, which faithfully reach for us:
The works of his hands are faithfulness and justice, all his commandments are sure (Psalm 111.7)
God’s hands, which never let go:
My soul clings to you, your right hand holds me fast (Psalm 63:8)
Into your hands, I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me, O Lord O God of truth, the psalmist prays. Into your hand I commend my spirit, Jesus prays.
Into your hands.
