The Words from the Cross: A Good Friday Meditation

The crucifixion of Christ is about power: power separated from its true source in the living God.  When the relative capacity to bring about an effect – and that is what power is – cuts itself loose from its roots in the flourishing of life, it becomes a destructive force; it becomes oppression.  For example, when the body’s ability to guard against infection turns on the body itself, as happens in autoimmune disorders, that power of healthy boundaries is cut loose from its source in the health and vitality of the whole and ends up oppressing and destroying the very thing that gives it life.  And when a human society’s ability to create safe spaces – sanctuaries – for the flourishing of human living fails to properly determine what is and isn’t human, the power that can protect community ends up oppressing and destroying the very people who give it life.

This was the case in the Roman Empire where crucifying criminals – publicly torturing to death “enemies of the state” on a cross – was a way to enforce Rome’s gift of order in a chaotic world.  It was also the case throughout much of the twentieth century in South Africa where the system of apartheid drew distinctions around the false concept of “race” and, when human beings resisted their inhumane treatment, ruthlessly crushed any dissent.  Peter Storey served as bishop to the Methodist churches of the Johannesburg/Soweto area under apartheid.  In his book, Listening at Golgotha, he says:

[T]he church had to learn a Cross-shaped ministry under the shadow of apartheid’s oppression.  Across South Africa’s cruel political landscape of that period, Holy Week was always a strengthening time for the hurting victims of apartheid.  The poor and oppressed and the people of faith trying to offer resistance seemed to know instinctively that in this pain-drenched narrative, their own struggles would be embraced and given meaning by the sorrow of God.

The issue of whether one would die rather than kill to overcome evil was at that time an existential dilemma demanding painful choice each day.  Since the Son of God, faced by implacable evil, determined that he would be willing to die for the world but would never kill for it, Holy Week and Good Friday in particular presented an inescapable challenge to us all.[1]

Good Friday presents a challenge to you and to me as well and it is this: how are we to hear the “words from the cross,” the seven last words of Jesus, for ourselves?   How are we to hear these words from the cross in our situation where we enjoy unquestionable rights to security and well-being?  Even as recently as twenty years ago in the cities of Johannesburg and Soweto, these words resisted human power that had become oppressive and destructive to human life.  What do they do for us?  If all these words do for us is to inspire pity for innocent suffering, I have to say that there’s enough of that in other places: we don’t need to be here tonight to get that.  So, what do these particular words from this particular man who died on that particular cross give us that nothing else can?  I will tell you: they give us the power to resist oppression without become oppressive ourselves.

You ask how can they do that?  I invite you to listen to them now and see.

First Word: Forgive  (Luke 23:32-34)
³²Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed. ³³When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. ³⁴Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

Release from blame.  Let go of the righteous indignation which is the besetting sin of the political left.  Let go of the hunger for vindication which is the besetting sin of the political right. Just let it go.  We know that the approach that works best against oppressive power is non-violent resistance, and that approach includes emotional and spiritual non-violence as well as a refusal to physically strike back.  Let go of labels.  Let go of demonizing.  Let go of bad blood.  Become transparent to the destructive negativities that flood our everyday environment like harmful radiation and you will resist them effectively without adding to them one bit.

Second Word: Hope (Luke 23:39-43)
³⁹One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!”
⁴⁰But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? ⁴¹We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”
⁴²Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
⁴³Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Hold to the goal of life and its flourishing even in the absence of any road to reach it.  Live as if you are already there, even if others can’t see it.  As far as the Roman soldiers were concerned, it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference if they’d heard Jesus say to the thief on the cross, “When we finish this up, let’s go get a couple of cold ones,” instead of, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”  Neither proposition seemed very likely from where they were standing.  And yet, for the man who believed Jesus, these words made all the difference between becoming an agent of God’s power or simply remaining a victim of human oppression.  If by hope we hold to the goal of life and its flourishing, even in the absence of any way to reach it, no threat will keep us from making that goal a reality.  Not only that, but by freeing us from getting too attached to any particular way of doing things, hope keeps us from oppressing those who might disagree with our approach.

Third Word: Presence (John 19:25-27) 
²⁵Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. ²⁶When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear woman, here is your son,” ²⁷and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.

Presence is a powerful thing.  The simple act of being present to oppressive power resists that power.  It would have been easy for Jesus to “check out” of life at this point, to slip into delirium or to let  painful apathy take over, but he didn’t.  With his third word, Jesus gives us a way to overcome the powers that oppress and destroy life without becoming oppressive or destructive ourselves.  We can always be present to life, no matter how constrained our circumstances become.  We can choose to care for those around us in appropriate ways, no matter if all we have to give them is our pain-filled attention.  Jesus saw his mother and his best friend there at the foot of the cross.  They were helping him to fight human power gone mad by being present to his suffering.  He, in turn, took time away from his dying to tell them they needed to adopt each other.  This was a simple act, full of life-power.

Fourth Word: Absence  (Matthew 27:45-46)
⁴⁵From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. ⁴⁶About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”—which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

It’s called the “cry of dereliction,” this quote from Psalm 22, and it takes up into itself the long history of oppression against all people of faith in every generation.  Faith is one of the touchstones of life, so when a human power starts oppressing other people, the practice of faith is one of the first things it tries to take away.  Oppression knows that when we can no longer perform rituals of faith, we often end up feeling abandoned by God, separated from life and power.  Jesus gave us a way to deal with this when he owned up to that feeling.  When he cried out “My God!  My God!  Why hast thou forsake me?” he made the experience of God’s absence his own, and so can we.  We can make the experience of forsakenness our own heart’s cry which, when we do this, when we cry out to God, affirms that God is there.  The cry itself affirms our faith in the One who will never leave us nor forsake us.

Fifth Word: Need (John 19:28-29)
²⁸Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” ²⁹A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips.

Human need is one thing that no one can ever completely take away from us.  Neediness, like thirst, is normal for life.  Being about 98% water, you wouldn’t think we really need any more to drink, but it is because we are living creatures that we need more.  The very process of living consumes life and its resources.  This means living itself becomes destructive and oppressive of human life whenever the powers-that-be refuse to acknowledge human need.  Jesus’ fifth word, “I thirst,” enacted a ritual of resistance against such powers by expressing normal human need in a situation that was anything but normal.  By expecting (against all odds) the people who were crucifying him to show normal human behavior, Jesus continually affirmed their humanity and his own.   He continually offered them the chance to reattach their human power to its true life source in God’s power.

Sixth Word: Done! (John 19:30)
³⁰When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

There comes a point in different kinds of work when you know you have nothing left to give.  The work may not be finished, but we certainly are.  Jesus’ sixth word, however, reminds us that such can never be the case when it comes to work in the service of life.  His triumphant cry, “It is finished!” reminds us that he did all he came to do.  You and I will be able to say the same when we persist to the end.  The writer of the book of Hebrews encourages us with these words:

²Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.[2]

This sixth word, “Done!” is our constant reminder that until we die, we still have a last full measure of devotion to give.

Seventh Word: Commend (Luke 23:44-46)
⁴⁴It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, ⁴⁵for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. ⁴⁶Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.

“Commend” is such a strange word.  What is it we do whenever we commend something to someone?  Is it that we simply give someone something that they can then do with as they please?  No, whenever we commend something, we commit it to someone’s care and expect that person to deal with it appropriately.  Okay, does that mean we just dump it on their plate and walk away?  Again, no.  Whatever we commend to another person never loses its importance to us, otherwise we could just give it away or abandon it.  So, then, does that mean we get to keep some control over what we commend to another’s keeping?  Absolutely not!  To commend something to someone is to give it completely over, usually because we ourselves are no longer in a position to care for it.  So… how does Jesus’ final word, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit,” help us overcome oppression and destruction without becoming part of the problem?  It directs us to stay rooted in God who alone can and will care for us beyond all limits of human strength and endurance.  It reminds us that the power of being, from beginning to end, comes from God, and this reminder preserves us from becoming oppressive and destructive of life.  Amen.

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[1] Peter Storey, Listening at Golgotha: Jesus’ Words from the Cross (Nashville: Upper Room Books, 2004), 10-11.

[2] Hebrews 12:2-3 NIV

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