“I Am”

Good Friday 2018:May God’s words alone be spoken, may God’s words alone be heard. Amen.

Tonight we continue the service begun last night, that will end on Sunday. It is the Paschal Triduum, and as I mentioned last night at the beginning, to make that much more clear to everyone, there is only one bulletin for the entire three-part service.

Our Jewish brothers and sisters are celebrating the Passover tonight too. We wish them all Pesach Sameach or Happy Passover. And tonight at each Seder, a child is asking “Why is this night different from all other nights?” We too can ask that same question, can we not, for tonight is the most solemn night of our faith. It is Good Friday.

Why is this night different than all other nights?

Because tonight we stand in the deepest of darkness at the foot of the cross. Tonight we cry out, how could this have happened? How did they not see what they had done? Did they not know who He was?

Oh, but they did… It is an often missed part of tonight’s story, because English bible translators valued grammatical neatness over accuracy what exactly those who arrested heard this night. In the opening verses of the Gospel of John that we read on Good Friday we hear of his arrest in the garden. Jesus asks those who came to take him “For whom are you looking?” They answered “Jesus of Nazareth.” And here is the mistake – the translators have Jesus replying “I am he.” That is not what the authors of this fourth gospel wrote that he said, at least not according to the oldest copies of text in the Greek. What they wrote was that he answered “I am.” The “he” was added where it did not exist. This is a crucial mistake. “I am” – were the very words of God. It was known by all the Hebrew people to be spoken only by God about God. That is why the text continues saying that when he said “I am” all who were there stepped back and fell to the ground.

They had just heard him proclaim that he was God, and yet – they still arrested him, and took him to the chief priests and elders of Jerusalem – who would then send him on to the vicious tyrant Pilate to be executed. What frightened them – that he might actually be God?

Which leads us to another question that can, and needs to be asked tonight – how could they do this? How could a people crucify Jesus, or stand idly by and allow it to happen – or perhaps worse – deny him in his darkest hour? Here’s the thing – it happens all the time. It happens now.

Every day in this country, and around the world, there are unjust trials, horrific executions, pain/humiliation/abandonment by those entrusted with the care of the vulnerable. There is betrayal, injustice, and oppression. Christ is crucified with every one of these acts.

Christ is crucified when our children are slaughtered in our classrooms. Christ is crucified when our homeless are abandoned on the streets. Christ is crucified when men of color are cut down in their own backyards. Christ is crucified when women are oppressed. Christ is crucified when we abuse our earth and the creatures that dwell in it with us. And at our Stations of the Cross in Community, we nailed the brokenness we have allowed in this world directly to the cross.

So perhaps the question really is – how do we let this happen?

Why do we deny, betray, and crucify Him? These dark days are in our hearts to remind us of how easily we become the ones who nailed him to the cross or denied him the streets. We come to see that we too can say “I am.” “I am – the one who betrayed Him.”

But there is another way in which this moment of shadow and darkness touches our lives deeply, becomes a lived reality rather than a remembrance of something long ago. It is when we are in the midst of a personal crucifixion – when we are living Good Friday in our hearts. Perhaps it is at the death of a loved one. Or it when imprisoned in the chains of loneliness, depression, addiction, poverty, isolation. Or when we ourselves are the crucified one – the abused, the oppressed, the marginalized.

We are in the darkness of our despair, and Good Friday seems endless to us. It is then we also may say “I am.” “I am – the one crucified.” “I am the one in sorrow at the foot of the cross.”

This is why the Triduum is so very important. As I said on Palm Sunday, and again last night – we need the fullness of the Triduum experience, because to stand in darkness without the knowledge of light will kill us of hope. And to stand in light without the knowledge of darkness will blind us to suffering. Our faith demands both. To show up on Easter Sunday without facing our own demons in the darkness of the cross, or acknowledging the brokenness of others, of ourselves, can tempt us into a shallow faith in which we turn church into a social club that comforts us, rather than the radical and empowering experience it is meant to be.

We must never lose sight of the cross in the face of the open tomb, for if we do, we will lose sight of the darkness of our own world, the Christ denied, betrayed, and crucified by our actions and inactions. We forget those of our brothers and sisters for whom the joy of Easter is a reality not yet realized.

And we must never lose sight of the empty tomb while we witness the crucified one in our midst – while we work against the bitter darkness of hate, bigotry, violence, oppression, and poverty, when we are swept away in the grief of our own personal Good Fridays. We need the bright light of the resurrection to fill our hearts with hope amid despair, or we will lose our souls to it.

Last night, we wept in the garden with Jesus. We stripped bare our protections from the darkness that abounds. We waited with him.

Tonight we stand at the foot of the cross. We do not run from this, but face the evil then and now, that we may not lose sight of our role in His crucifixion today, that we may not forget those whose daily lives are found there in that bitter darkness.

Tonight let us embrace the darkness.

Let us see the ones we have nailed to the cross.

Let us see the ones grieving there.

Let us dwell here for His sake, for our sake, for the sake of the world.

Amen.

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