Sermons

Tridium Sermons

Preached by Mother Lizette Larson-Miller on Good Friday (Friday, March 21, 2008)

Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 10:1-25; John’s Passion

This is the night, as was last night, as will be tomorrow night, when we remember the love of God for us that is beyond our ability to name or comprehend.

Last night’s gospel ended with Jesus’ new commandment, “love one another as I have loved you…everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” How do we love as Jesus loved us? How do we even get in the same league as that kind of selfless outpouring, not of a surplus of love, but of the essence of love, essential love unto death – for us?

Last night’s liturgy never actually ended, we drifted into the night, some remaining to pray at the altar of repose, others to straighten up and then go home, a few conversations here and there, but not the usual communal completion that comes over coffee and classy nibbles in Lathrop Hall - it was unsettled and unfinished, it was at the same time both empty and confident – empty because undone, confident because we know how the story ends – or rather, how the story begins. It begins with the triumph of the resurrection – but that reality makes the horrible human suffering on which we focus today no less real, no less horrendous, no less cosmic because it is not just physical suffering, but psychic suffering, spiritual suffering, of a dimension that will always be incomprehensible to us in this lifetime, in this phase of life.

We have heard – through Christian ears – the suffering servant of Isaiah, we hear the story of Good Friday, we hear the story of Jesus on his way to death and through death: “He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity…surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases…” We have heard in the letter to the Hebrews that the sacrifice of Christ changes sacrifice forever, “it is by God’s will that we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” “It is finished” Jesus gave up his body, his power, his authority, his life, his future, and even his spirit – for us.

What should we feel now? Are we here to tear ourselves apart – this is our fault, this is my fault – “I am personally responsible for the sins of the world and the death of Jesus” If only I had not done this, if only I had done this…what would be different?

Or, are we here to pity Jesus – “O sacred head now wounded…” O how very sorry I am that this has happened to you – how very relieved I am, that this has not happened to me…actually, how guilty I feel that this has happened to you and not to me…

When I was in the process of ordination in the diocese of Los Angeles, I was assigned to – I found out later – the most difficult parish situation available. I worked for 9 months at Pueblo Nuevo, a storefront mission near McArthur Park which existed to offer sanctuary, liturgy, and work experience to mostly transgendered, illegal, illiterate Roman Catholics who had no where else to turn. I never confessed to the diocese or to the commission on ministry that I, as a former Roman Catholic, found this not so much a challenge as a homecoming. The parishioners were very faithful to the liturgical gatherings, both in the traditional liturgical year and in the particular feast days that made sense of their lives, but the really important days of the year were Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, not Easter and Christmas, but Posada and Good Friday. Why? Because these were days they could relate to – these were days in which the symbolic power of the liturgy was not an intellectual exercise but a visceral connection – I too have suffered, I know what it is to suffer, to lose myself – to lose my power, my authority, my spirit and even my very body – I can relate to a God who has suffered, been excluded – better yet, this God can relate to me, this God knows who I am and where I am and how I cannot even see beyond Good Friday to the glorious resurrection of Jesus the Christ.

What do you see on Good Friday? Do you see the cross, timeless and placeless – what does it mean? Do you see in that cross a symbol of love, love poured out and understood through the resurrection, the resurrection of Christ and our resurrection, our passage from death to life?

Do you see a crucifix? Do you see a human form, suffering, yearning towards life and losing the battle? Do you see the most paradoxical action that any religion knows- love through death? Greatness through humiliation?

All of these are Good Friday – as long as the story of Good Friday does not remain solely in the past, but lives in the tension between the once and for all action of Jesus and our living into the reality of that today – right here and right now. In the Eastern Christian Byzantine liturgy, there is a song sung every year which tries to bridge this duality – not just then, not just now, but always; not just there, not just here, but everywhere.

I rarely break into song in the midst of a homily, but I’m not sure how to communicate the power of this kontakion for Good Friday except to sing part of it – so I invite you to close your eyes and hear the words from an ancient liturgy of the church that tries to express the love of God, the here and there, the now and then of what Good Friday tries to remember and enter into.

Today he who hung the earth upon the waters is hung upon the cross
He who is King of the angels is arrayed in a crown of thorns
He who wraps the heaven in clouds is wrapped in the purple of mockery.
He who in Jordan set Adam free receives blows upon His face.
The bridegroom of the Church is transfixed with nails
The son of the Virgin is pierced with a spear.
We bow down to your passion, O Christ (3 xs)
Now, show us also your glorious resurrection (from the dead).

Show us what is already a reality – show us what we know and often dare not see, the glorious resurrection that makes sense of the horrific death that we remember today – Christ who was present at creation, Jesus who suffered for us, Christ who in resurrected glory bids us never forget how much we are loved – may our prayer and our striving this night be to live into how extraordinary we are – we have been died for – we have been resurrected for – we are beloved of God, may we live and practice that love, not through our own strength, but through prayer may God give us the gift of love for each other. Come back tomorrow to offer thanks for the resurrection that makes sense of all of this – for love that transcends death, for Easter that transcends Good Friday.