Theological Truth: The Cross illuminates the questions we ask in the midst of suffering: Why? And Where?
My God, my God…
Why? Why have you forsaken me?
Why? Why are you so far from our cry?
Where are you? Why don’t you answer me?
(Silence)
Starkness in Darkness
One of the things I’ve learned since moving to the Shenandoah Valley is that leaves fall off trees…(Who knew?!)…and when they do, eventually…All the trees are completely bare; entire hillsides defoliated; houses revealed; neighbors exposed.
A leafless tree allows us to see the nests of squirrels and the profiles of birds. There is clarity in the starkness of the wintered forest. Hidden things are revealed when all else has been stripped away; when things are laid bare.
So it is with Good Friday.
Today we see Jesus on the cross — lifted up on that barren hill just outside of the gates of Jerusalem. He stands in stark relief against the sky, exposed for all the world to see. The naked, tortured body of the Word made flesh proves Isaiah right:
“Just as there were many who were astonished at him, so marred was his appearance, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of mortals, so he shall startle many nations; kings shall shut their mouths because of him; for that which had not been told them they shall see, and that which they had not heard they shall contemplate.” (Is. 52:14-15)
And in the light of today’s darkness, in the clarity of this starkness, the mysteries of the mind of God come into better view. The cross reveals insights to our questions of “Why?” and “Where?”.
“Why?” and “Where?” are the lamenting questions of the psalmist; the plaintiff cry of Jesus from the cross according to Mark and Matthew; the honest prayer of all those who suffer: near and far, ancient and contemporary. From emergency rooms to besieged cities, back alleys to front lines: My God….why? It’s a fair question and a faithful prayer. “Where are you God in the midst of all this suffering?” is the natural follow-up question. Where are you when we so desperately need you and your saving power?
Because of today’s darkness we can see the mystery of the mind of God more clearly. Because of today’s starkness, the power of God’s way of love stands out. Our lamenting questions of “Why?” and “Where?” find meaning on this Good Friday.
Why? Was it necessary for Jesus to be crucified? Why did God allow this to happen?
I’m sure that God in God’s omniscience knew it would end this way. But knowing that something will happen isn’t the same thing as either allowing it or desiring it to happen. The crucifixion of Jesus is more inevitable, than necessary.
Marcus Borg and Dominick Crossan say that Jesus wasn’t so much killed for our sins, so much as because of them. “Good Friday was the result of the collision between the passion of Jesus and the normalcy of civilization…In an important sense, he was killed because of the sin of the world. It was the injustice of domination systems that killed him…Though sin means more than this, it includes this. And thus Jesus was crucified because of the sin of the world” (The Last Week, p. 162-163).
The world rejected Jesus’ vision for the reign of God. Caiphas and the religious leaders seek to preserve their compromised, negotiated place of prestige and privilege. Judas is looking for a more familiar and immediate kingdom. Peter succumbs to the threats of Roman authority to his personal safety. The guards revel in their domination of another person. Pilate clings to his imperial power even though it requires the killing of an innocent man.
There’s blood on everyone’s hands.
Yours and mine too if we’re honest.
Our rejection, our lack of trust, our desire for certainty and comfort, our capitulation to and collusion with the powers of this world, lead to this conclusion.
The crucified body of Jesus — Love incarnate — reveals that the wages of sin are indeed death.
The windowless, bombed out buildings of Kyiv tell the same story. The scenes of indiscriminate violence and destruction in Bucha proclaim the same message.
Why does suffering still exist? Maybe the better question to ask is, “Why haven’t we gotten the message?” Why do we still idolize strong-man dictators? Invest in weapons of death? Constantly seek self-preservation? Continually dehumanize those who differ from us? Perpetually and selfishly live in fear of scarcity?
Good Friday reminds us.
In the unadorned desolation of the Cross, the empty threats and false promises of worldly power are exposed; illusions of control are shattered; the dead-end course of violence and hatred fails to reach its promised destination.
The cross reveals the reasons for so much human suffering, while simultaneously demonstrating that the powers and principalities of this world don’t take us where they promise. There is important light shed through the darkness of this day.
The starkness of that scene on Calvary also bears witness to the other question asked by all those who suffer: Where is God?
The cross makes it painfully clear that God is right here with us. Emmanuel — God with us — bears the weight of our incarnate reality. Jesus understands suffering because he has felt it. Jesus knows the sting of betrayal, the vulnerability of powerlessness, the dread of pain, the grief of loss, the fear of death. Jesus is here despite it all, for us all, with us all, even and especially when we suffer.
Mary Bea Sullivan tells this story about how her…
“husband — a chaplain in a large urban hospital — and his team were denied access to Covid patient rooms. Frustrated with being unable to care in ways to which he was accustomed, he would stand outside those ICU rooms and pray. One day, he pressed his palm against the glass. Unexpectedly, a weary nurse left her station and placed her palm next to his. Then another nurse, and another — pressing their black, brown, white, Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim palms against the glass — a force-field of prayer.” (Living Well Through Lent 2022, p. 60).
God is that close. Always and everywhere. Even and especially in our suffering, with those who are suffering, as we tend to those who are suffering.
Maybe you’ve experienced that in your own life? I certainly have. In the midst of grief, at the depth of personal despair, when all other support and any type of security had been stripped away, I found an unmistakable sense of Christ’s presence. Despite the darkness — because of the darkness — the Light of the World was visible. The bottom seemed to have fallen out, but the ground of my being was revealed.
Where is God in the suffering of the world? Right here with us.
The darkness and starkness of Good Friday reveal important truths about God. As we remembered at the start of Lent in our Ash Wednesday liturgy,
“God does not desire the death [or suffering] of sinners, but rather that [we] may turn… and live.”
God does not leave us alone. God is with us in our suffering. The Light shines even in today’s darkness, and the darkness still does not overcome it. Therefore, on this Good Friday, may the words of the poet and linguist John Bowring become our words of prayer and praise:
In the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o’er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story,
Gathers round its head sublime.
(The Hymnal 1982, #441)
Readings this week: Isaiah 52:13–53:12; Psalm 22:1-11; Hebrews 10:16-25; John 18:1-19:42
Good Friday, April 15, 2022
