Good Friday: Solidarity

 

I’ve enjoyed very much sharing in two ecumenical lent groups this year, one in Boroughbridge and one in Bishop Monkton. I led the final session for the Bishop Monkton folk where we looked at the cross and I asked if you were giving a message of hope on Good Friday this year what would you say. 

Well, here’s mine. I believe this day is all about the solidarity of God who through Jesus in this self giving act proves he means it when he says he loves us. Desmond Tutu once said that God has this deep, deep solidarity with us. God became a human being, a baby, God was hungry, God was tired, God suffered and died. God is there with us. Solidarity. 

 

It’s not easy to think about the hill of Calvary outside a city wall. We want to leave it outside and just get on with Easter. So I’m very pleased so many of you are out there today taking time to remember with me. 

 

Matthias Grünewald’s “Crucifixion” (above) was once described by Pope Benedict as perhaps the most moving depiction of the Crucifixion. It was painted in the early 16th century for a monastery in which the monks took care of the sick, especially of those afflicted by the plague, skin diseases and ergotism, an illness that produces horrible convulsions and deformation of the limbs.

The painting was a source of great comfort to those suffering with the plague who saw their wounds in Christ. The artist chose to paint Jesus suffering our passion: his sores and blisters are those of the plague; his hands are feet are convulsed as were those suffering ergotism. 

We can only try to imagine the power of the words of Isaiah resounding in that monastery chapel: “Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Solidarity.

In solidarity on the cross, Jesus speaks the language of love. 

I remember many many years ago going to the MAYC London Weekend and the worship in the Albert Hall, that May weekend as a teenager was the highlight of the year as we invaded London with a mass of green and yellow. For some reason one sermon I think from about 1984 has stayed with me. There was a huge cross placed at the front of the hall, and in front of it, the preacher described Good Friday love as “anyhow love” – she said this is what love is, no matter what you do to me, I love you anyhow. Beat me, condemn me, ridicule me, hang me on a gibbet, take my life, I love you anyhow.

Solidarity. The suffering servant despite our part in his death still serves us. The one who has been condemned says “father forgive them for they know not what they do.” The way of the world is met here by the way of God, which Jesus has tried to show in the way he has ministered and cared in the streets of Galilee. Here, he says “it is finished” – this is how far in love I will go. No wonder we call what’s going on here atonement – at one ment – a world, a people who’ve done nothing but nail him to this barbaric instrument of torture and execution, are brought back into the enfolding arms of God who can despite ourselves never give us up. Solidarity. To know a Christ who suffers with us today is a huge comfort. Imagine a God who doesn’t enter those unspeakable places in life. Not a lot of use really.

 

Solidarity. For me today is all about God’s power being able to pick up the shattered pieces of our life and make something holy of them – not from a distance but close up. That’s what the church is for, isn’t it? On Good Friday we look at the blood of the cross – and we thank God for Jesus, who for us put his body where his mouth was. Here is solidarity. This is love.

The Collect for Good Friday:

Lord Jesus, help us follow in your steps,
for by your innocent suffering and death,
you have opened up the way to the Father for us;
you live and reign, now and forever. Amen.