Sabbatical blog 12: Sacred space in Holy Week part 2 - Good Friday

I’m in bits after Good Friday worship. 

I have never understood how anyone who says they are Christian can miss out this day. I’ve had to tell people that Jesus has to rise from something and without darkness there can be no light. Missing out the brutality and horror of this day is to leave out half the story. We cannot interact with a bloody and selfish world if we cannot stand in that world ourselves. 

Sharing Good Friday worship on Holy Island today was a very moving experience in which I was ministered to simply by listening from my pew. Two things happened…

First, we sang “There is a green hill far away” and the line “without a city wall.” We remember today Jesus was crucified outside the city. “Without” is old language for that. Although the Bible never calls the place of Jesus’s death a hill, Jesus was taken to Golgotha, meaning the place of a skull, which some believe refers to the fact that it may have had the appearance of a skull when viewed from a short distance, thus making it a hill; also, it was believed to be outside the city since the soldiers "led him out to crucify Him.” 

I started thinking about those who are “without” this Good Friday:

The victims of war and bloodshed in Ukraine.

The poor souls fleeing places in fear thinking crossing the Channel might bring hope.

Those still worried about Covid when everyone else thinks it’s over.

Those labelled as different so we push them away.

Those daring to speak out and ridiculed because others don’t want their boat rocking.

Those who need care surrounded by people who don’t take time to meet with them.

These are “without” - “without” hope, concern, care, and love. A lot of society wants to forget that they exist. 

Nadia Bolz-Weber in “Accidental Saints” reminds us that “on some level, although we can’t handle the pain of acknowledging it, Good Friday happens every day.”

It is good news that Jesus is crucified “without a city wall.” Remember criminals of his day were left to rot on a rubbish tip on a gibbet, as an example to those who might dare cause trouble in a volatile place. The power of the Romans was power that set out to suppress any revolution emerging. Putting Jesus on a cross “without a city wall” was an attempt to get rid of him and to purge his story from their midst. 

That Jesus is “without” means he is one with those who are there today. My mind wandered in church to a prayer from one of my Iona books of prayers back home:

“We see Christ crucified still - today.
Where the hungry cry for food,
die for food,
though there's plenty.
Where people are yelled at,
Jeered at -
bricks through their windows
because their skin isn't white, isn't right.
Where abuse and rape occur 
where gay men are beaten up,
where lust kills love -
I see him crucified still.

I see Christ crucified still - today.
where wars scar people, lands,
God's hands
the endless killing politics of hate.
Where the cry for justice
is unheard, oppressed, beaten down
by cold, world systems.
Where power comes first,
where religion twists faith,
where fear kills trust
I see him crucified still.

I see Christ crucified still - today:
where creation's fabric shreds,
is bled,
by 'must have now', 'must use'.
Where earth's beauty is destroyed.
Where trees burn,
where water poisons,
where greed kills need
I see him crucified still.
And I try - a little
to stem the deadly tide
as I give - a little,
write to those in power - a little,
take my bottles to the bottle bank,
and try to love as he said;
try to love - a little.

O God, for all these crucifixions may there one day be resurrection.

I was still thinking about “without” when the service became even more powerful. We were told we were going to watch a film of the Stations of the Cross for Ukraine. I sat in disbelief for half an hour as the fourteen stations were accompanied by graphic images and stories of people in Ukraine facing indescribable suffering and for some crucified, seeing death and destruction all around them. It was a hard watch. Several stories used the word “hell.” And a phrase used again and again got to me:

“Lord, give us the faithfulness to not look away.”

It is the good news of Good Friday that Jesus is not just “without” but that in his cross and his giving to us he does not look away. He hangs, bloodied and battered about and looks on the Ukraines and the asylum seekers (who thought of the idea to send them to Rwanda? It’s just nonsense and barbaric!) He looks on the marginalised and the despised, the frightened and the hopeless, the victims of injustice and those who don’t know where to turn to cope with their burdens. He never looks away. 

His challenge to me this Good Friday is to think more about those “without a city wall” and to look more intently on them and to work their restoration and healing. And to help my churches as I return to work in two weeks and two days time to refocus to do this too. 

I’m in bits after Good Friday worship. But I wait for the dawn. And I remember this year, perhaps more than any other year, I have a Saviour who is crucified and risen. 

Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world,
have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world,
have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world,
grant us peace.