THE ROAD TO CRUCIFIXION
Mark 14 & 15: selected verses
Rev. Gary Paterson
April 5, , 2009
Palm/Passion Sunday
It has been said that the best way to send an idea is to wrap it up in a person; and the best way to know a person is to hear their story. Which is what I think is happening on this double-named Sunday… Palm and Passion Sunday. An idea wrapped up in Jesus, a revelation; and a story to know the man. It’s a story that begins today at the gates of Jerusalem, as Jesus and his disciples enter the city… a parade, a crowd full of hope; it’s a story that ends five days later, outside the city walls, at Golgotha, the place of the skull, where criminals and rebels were crucified.
The power of any story is to open up a space into which we are invited to enter, and take our place. The story draws us in, and offers us the opportunity to become a participant, not just a spectator. We smell the dust, the sweat, the blood, the fear; and taste the bread and wine, the bile, the parched mouth. The skin goosebumps in the evening breeze in the garden; our shoulders bend with the weight of the cross; we hear the snap of the whips, the mocking laughter, the cry of abandonment; we see … well, often we turn our eyes away, we can’t bear to watch what’s happening. But there we are, in the story, walking beside, and with, the changing faces.
Maybe we start off walking with the folks in power… the temple authorities, the religious folk; and the Romans, the ones on top, with power to ensure that things don’t change – the ones who benefit from the way things are. On a global scale, I’m about as privileged Roman as they get.
Or maybe we’re the foot soldiers, just doing what we’re told, following orders; or perhaps sometimes we’re keeping up with the crowd, whatever the new trend, even, on occasion, slipping into mob mentality…. oh yeah, I know what that’s like. Or maybe we’re spending our time with the bystanders, who watched, who turned away… there were appointments to keep… but people who are still sneaking glances, trying to understand what’s happening without getting involved. And then there’s Peter, with his denials, and Judas, the betrayer. I’ve never been that grand in my twisting and turning, as my ideals get chipped away, and compromise becomes a way of life; but I know that too ofter we settle for safety, maybe comfort, or for the big bucks, 30 pieces of silver for a deposit. I know what it’s like to duck the question; slip-slide here… and there… and there.
Or maybe we finally find ourselves standing with the women, who stayed at the cross until the end; powerless; crying; yet still, witnesses… and ready to do what must be done next, when the time arrived.
You and I are in this story, whatever our various places and roles; whether we come as disciples, seekers, skeptics. And when the story comes to its painful, crucified end, we slink away, like everyone else, perhaps to tend a corpse, perhaps to hide and weep; perhaps to try and forget, to wash our hands of the whole affair, and have drink… it’s been a hard day.
But we are haunted by memories; once you enter into this story, you will be left with questions, wondering why? why him? why like that? How do you make sense of a story like this? Is there any meaning in this passion, this death? Those were the questions facing the first story-tellers, and they struggled to tell the story in ways that answered those questions. The gospels are an end product of communities shaping the story so that it interpreted the death in the very course of the telling.
The story declares that love is costly. Jesus was passionately committed to his faith in the Kingdom of God, the vision of justice, peace, liberation and healing for all, and he was willing to put his life on the line for the fulfillment of that holy dream. He got killed for his efforts. Jesus didn’t just die; he was executed.
Know this… if you have a dream of a city where everyone has a home; where the mentally ill have adequate support; where there are enough beds in enough detox centres to welcome any addict who is staggering towards a new life… if that’s your dream, well, you’re going to meet resistance. NIMBY, complaints, resentment, TINA… there is no alternative; and hey, am I really willing to have my taxes rise to pay for all of that? Resistance, for sure; but it never stopped Jesus. And it can’t stop you… inconvenient, costly love… but what a dream. Worth living for; worth dying for.
This cross speaks to us at an even deeper level, a word for our moments of darkness, when pain of the world, and in our lives, presses in and threatens to overwhelm us; the disappointments, the frustration of the dream. Speaks, too, in our crucifixion moments -- when the lover walks out, when the body breaks down, when women are murdered in parks, when children die, when the pain nerves are in overdrive.
The gospel story teller pulls no punches as he conveys Jesus’ pain… whips, thorns, stumbling, nails; but worse is the suffering with the cry, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” That black moment when Jesus needed some kind of answer from God, and all he received was silence.
But the story arises from a deeper conviction than pain; it is anchored to a great “nevertheless” -- the conviction that even in the deepest darkness, God is still present. When Jesus was nailed to the cross, God was there, in pain, weeping. Nothing can separate us from that love, which chooses to carry the burdens with us. The connection with God, the relationship… it holds, no matter what is coming at us, no mater how abandoned we feel. Abandonment is what we’re feeling; but it is not our reality. Love is stronger than suffering and even death. I don’t know if we can ever believe it until it actually happens; but that’s what the story claims.
Further, this love stretches out arms of forgiveness, because not only do we need reassurance of God’s presence when we are on the receiving end of crucifixions; if you’re like me, you also need to deal with those times when you’ve been on the other end of the hammer, doing your part in ordinary, run-of-the-mill crucifixions – moments of the lie, when you’ve turned away from the holy dream; chosen a path that brings destruction -- to yourself and to others; times when you are haunted by all that we have not done. Call it guilt; call it greed, or fear, or indifference; call it laziness of spirit. I need to hear a word of forgiveness; a promise that God will be standing with me in the darkness even though I’ve hammered in a few mails myself.
Luke’s gospel says it most clearly, with Jesus looking down from the cross, looking at all of us, praying, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” And I suspect, “Forgive them even when they do know what they’re doing.” It’s as if God were proclaiming a holy “nevertheless” to each of us, to all of us…. “You have messed up; there’s a cross in the middle of it all, and you helped put it there; nevertheless,” says God, “I still love you; I forgive you and accept you; and will keep pushing you towards the path that leads to life.”
Forsaken, but not alone, not finally; guilty, yes – but forgiven; “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creations, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39) Now that’s a story worth listening to, a story to participate in; this is a person worth knowing… because that’s the kind of love you will encounter.