Good Friday, Day 39 | 40 to Life

Listen & watch Allison’s Good Friday sermon above.

Allison Pace–Good Friday
15 April 2022
We Remain

O Christ, we adore you and bless you: because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. Amen.

What do we do on a day like this–on a day like Good Friday?

Here is a story
to break your heart.
Are you willing?
This winter
the loons came to our harbor
and died, one by one,
of nothing we could see.
A friend told me
of one on the shore
that lifted its head and opened
the elegant beak and cried out
in the long sweet savoring of its life
which if you have heard it,
you know is a sacred thing.,
and for which, if you have not heard it,
you had better hurry to where
they still sing.
And, believe me,
tell no one just where that is. 

This is the first half of Mary Oliver’s poem entitled “Lead.” Oliver’s poem invites us into a place and space where our hearts are fully cracked and broken open, so much so that we cannot ignore the pain and suffering in this world…and the anguish and heartbreak many of us might feel on a day such as this.

A kind of suffering, anguish and heartbreak that I wonder if Jesus’ Disciples felt on what we call Good Friday over 2,000 years ago…

I wonder how long the disciples cried out for Jesus to come back; 

I wonder how some of the disciples were able to live with their guilt;

I wonder if their hearts felt like they had been torn from their bodies;

I wonder how the disciples felt…and even more-so, 

I wonder what they did…what did they do on a day like this…

What did the disciples do while their teacher…friend…someone they loved was tried, wrongly convicted and put to death in the most painful, gut-wrenching way possible?

What do YOU do on a day like this…the day we remember the death of our Savior…the Savior of the entire world? 

In John’s Gospel today, we meet a Jesus who has just been arrested and taken into custody to stand trial…we meet a Jesus who is mocked, hit, beaten and broken. We meet a Jesus who encounters many people and faces and questions as he journeys to Golgotha to make the ultimate sacrifice for the whole world. 

And even in the midst of this chaos, we meet Jesus at arguably his finest hour. 

Today, we remember God’s own willingness to be vulnerable and to suffer death on a cross. Today we are invited to a place and space that sometimes isn’t comfortable–a place of pain and suffering; a space where we can choose to be at the foot of the cross. 

Today we remain in the hope of the Resurrection–the possibility of joy–joy that transcends our understanding because Jesus has broken the bonds and barriers of death for us…Jesus has shown us a new way…

…and yet, we are still called to remain in that place where we must die in order to truly know life—to truly know the resurrection. 

Almost 8 years ago, I found myself in a place and space filled with heartbreak, anguish, and suffering…I found myself facing the death of a beloved friend.

This friend of mine was my mentor…my teacher…my confidant…my priest. His name was David Anderson and he died of lung cancer at the tender age of 59. The day he died and the day of his funeral were truly the worst days of my life–they were my own Good Fridays. 

The day David died and on the day of his funeral, I didn’t know what to do. This was the first time I was faced with death and the only thing I knew how to do was Remain. 

I remained in a call to prayer when I felt like hope was dying. 

I remained in the feelings of suffering and anguish, but also in the joy of knowing that he changed my life, and was loved by so many…

I remained in the presence of a God who was now welcoming David home. 

I remained in the knowledge that my heart had been cracked and broken open to a new feeling that I still am not sure I have the words to describe. 

I imagine Jesus’ disciples would tell you that the worst day of their lives was on Good Friday. I imagine that many of them didn’t know what to do or what to say because they didn’t fully understand that the Son of God was going to be raised on the third day…

I imagine that all the disciples could do on a day like this was to Remain. 

The last time I saw David he was in a wheelchair and was only able to breathe through the use of an oxygen tank. My heart was broken open to receive what would be our final hug…our final goodbye in this earthly life together. 

For the same reason Jesus said, “it is finished,” David said these words to me,

“no matter where you go, and no matter where I am, I will always be with you.” 

Jesus knew his time had come…Jesus knew that he loved his own to the very end and that even in dying, God would be glorified. David knew his time had come, too–God’s work for him in this world was finished. 

And while I felt like my heart continued to crack and break, and while streams of tears were rolling and rushing down my face, I knew he was right–I knew it was time for him to leave this world, even though I didn’t fully and truly understand why. 

I think the disciples knew it was Jesus’ time–but we also know that they didn’t fully and truly understand why…at least not yet. 

As Christians, our call is to stand at the foot of the cross with a vulnerable, crucified Jesus because we know that Resurrection is real…but sometimes, most of the time, it is not easy for us to get through the hard stuff…the stuff that makes our stomach’s flip…it’s hard to get through the brokenness and anguish our hearts might feel on a day like this…but we have to, or we’ll never truly know the Resurrection. 

And that’s why, on a day like this, we are called to Remain: 

Remain in the tears of Mary, Jesus’ Mother. 

Remain in the gut-wrenching pain Peter felt after denying Jesus 3 times.

Remain in the mystery of Pilate, who knew that condemning Jesus was wrong. 

Remain in the selfless generosity of Joseph of Aremethea’s heart. 

Remain and acknowledge the suffering and anguish in this world…

Remain in the heaviness of this day as we hear once again about the reckless, sacrificial, selfless love that Jesus poured out and shed for each of us on the hardwood of the cross…

Remain as a witness to the bravery of a beaten and broken Jesus.

Remain in the joy Paul writes in today’s letter to the Hebrews–the joy of knowing that Jesus has opened up a new way for us…a new way to everlasting life. 

Remain in the wonder and meaning of the cross–a sign of both life and death. 

Remain in a love so deep, and raw, so pure, and precious, that we remember this Good Friday Sacrifice of Jesus Christ over and over again, each and every Sunday, when we come to this altar–our Sacred Center–to receive a crucified Christ’s Body and Blood in our earthly hands–a place where this world and the life to come is thin space.

Remain in the brokenness of the world, and by that I mean: break open your hearts to the love of God, so much so, that when you hold that wafer in your hand during Communion on Easter morning, it isn’t just bread…it’s the bread of life…it is Christ’s body…

Break your heart wide open and realize that drinking the cup of salvation isn’t just simply drinking wine…it’s the blood of our crucified Lord. 

The Body broken, the blood shed for each and every one of us…for every single person on this fragile earth–the most precious gift we Christians have offered the world for over 2,000 years. 

Remain in the knowledge that while we are called to stand at the foot of the cross, looking at our perfectly broken Savior, our lives as Christian’s doesn’t stop here…it doesn’t end here because we are an Easter people…we are a people of the miracle that happens in 3 days…we are a people of the Resurrection. 

It’s a day to Remain: to remain in everything you feel…remain in it all:
…Because on a day like this, on a day like Good Friday, it’s all we really can do.

Here’s how Mary Oliver’s poem ends: 

The next morning
this loon, speckled
and iridescent and with a plan
to fly home
to some hidden lake,
was dead on the shore.
I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never close again
to the rest of the world.  

And that’s what we do on a day like this: We Remain. 

May it be so.