Good Friday (April 6, 2012) – John 18:1-19:42
John 18:1-19:42
A Lesson in Loss
Good Friday – April 6, 2012
First Lutheran Church – Winnipeg, MB
Last night at the end of the Maundy Thursday service,
the worship space was very gently stripped of all its adornments.
We do this in memory of Jesus who, before he was crucified, was stripped of his clothing and,
seemingly, of all his dignity as a human being.
Although it was done most unlovingly to Jesus,
last night our worship space was very lovingly undressed by those who put away the
candles and the communion ware and the lectionary and all the rest.
In a lovely reflection on this in the current Christian Century magazine,
Professor Preaching Richard Lischer reflects on this and reminds us that
when a Jewish person dies, a small group of people prepare the body for burial.
It is carefully undressed, its jewelry removed, its wounds cleaned.
Then it is bathed in water and purified.
It’s an acknowledgement that what remains – this body – is still holy.
This great gift of God, this human body, has not been stripped yet of everything.
It is still beloved by God.
And so this undressing can be an act of love.
As when a father undresses a child before bed.
Or when later in life the child must now help an elderly parent who can no longer manage undressing.
Or a lover undressing a spouse.
Undressing can be an act of love.
(in the Christian Century, March 21, 2012, pp. 11-12)
When Jesus, finally, was undressed before his crucifixion, he too was not stripped of everything.
He remains who he was.
Indeed, part of the great victory that that the crucifixion is in John’s Gospel consists in this:
that although much has been taken from him something remains:
his identity as a beloved child of God.
Throughout John’s Passion account Jesus retains beloved Sonship of a loving Father.
Though much is stripped from him, that remains. (ibid.)
Like Jesus, we are reduced every day in many ways.
As we age, it is true, we lose much.
Aspects of our health, even sometimes our memories.
Much is taken away, but something, the heart of who we are – beloved lovers – remains.
We are reduced by a hundred different kinds of losses –
of children, of spouses, of parents, of grandparents, of friends.
Much is taken away, but something, the heart of who we are – beloved lovers, remains.
We are reduced by betrayal and disappointment and cynicism and despair,
by heartbreak and mental illness and addiction and job loss.
Much is taken away, it is true, but something, the heart of who we are –
beloved lovers – remains.
Even we discover on this day when seemingly everything has been taken away something remains.
Much – seemingly everything – is taken from Jesus on this day,
but in John’s Gospel there is one thing –
the most essential thing about him – and it is the most essential thing about us,
the thing that is at the heart of who we are –
the most essential thing about him cannot be taken away from him:
his identity as a beloved child of God.
His final word is addressed to his Father: It is fulfilled, it is completed!
Even on the cross, his identity cannot be taken from him.
He becomes, in some ways, even more the person he truly is,
the divine embodiment of the divine love for a suffering world.
Jesus, in this astonishing Passion account, shows his divinity not in coming down from the cross,
but in a tender act of love while remaining fixed to it.
From the cross in John’s Gospel he forms a community of people who need one another now,
a mother – his mother – who will now be without a son is given an adoptive son by Jesus,
and a disciple who will surely be bereft in grief is given a mother.
Much is taken away from Jesus but much –
what is deepest and most essential about him – remains.
And what remains is love.
Surely there is a lesson in loss in this for us on this day.
Surely there is hope and something to celebrate even on this most tragic of days.
Although our losses seek to reduce us and narrow the scope of our being and loving,
by God’s grace it is possible somehow to reclaim even in loss that which is
most essential about ourselves, that which most defines us as Christians: love.
In the middle of our own loss it is possible to recognize that
something gracious cannot be taken away from us,
the love of God first given us in baptism and
given us over and over again at this table.
From a hard cross, a recovering addict learns to be of use to others in a twelve step group.
From a very difficult cross, families of an incarcerated person learn to help other families in
a similar situation.
From a tough cross indeed, parents who have lost a child learn how to open up a space in which
others who have lost children can talk and grieve and live and heal.
Though much is taken away, the heart of who we are cannot be taken away,
because it is a gift of God given us on this greatest of days.
On this day, the great triumph is the assertion that, in Jesus,
the God of all love and mercy and compassion cannot be taken from the site of any cross.
Here on this cross is God’s far-reaching salvation and redemption of all things.
So together let us say, “Amen.”
Pastor Michael Kurtz
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