Good Friday
An innocent man falsely accused and punished by the state. An insurrectionist released. Public influencers manipulating the thoughts
and actions of the people. The initial
Good Friday, occurring almost 2,000 years ago, disturbingly mirrors what is
transpiring in our country in our own day and time. The cast of characters may have changed, but
the dynamic of the events from back then, which we gather at this noon hour to
lament, are being replayed once again.
More and more, people are asking me as their spiritual leader what they can
do – what they should do – at an hour such as this. I wish I could climb Mt. Sinai and return
with ten directives etched in stone for folks to follow, but I can’t. Ranting on social media may make you feel
good for a moment, but affects very little change. Contacting your congressional representatives
likely is going to be met with a form-letter reply. Arguing with a family and friends is worse
than fruitless.
I have clergy colleagues advocating for people in my position to speak up
and speak out because silence means complicity.
I continue to weigh my ordination vow to boldly and prophetically
proclaim the word of God with my vow to care for all people in the flock I
serve, regardless of age, gender, race, sexual orientation, or political
affiliation. I continue to seek
discernment on the tension between prophet and pastor, but again, Mt. Sinai has
not weighed in with something definitive.
In the biblical account of Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, trial, and execution,
we read about Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimethea, two people whose witness has
something to say to us. Both are members
of the Great Sanhedrin, a Jewish legislative and judicial assembly of seventy elders. It is this body which tries Jesus and finds
him guilty, a decision neither Joseph or Nicodemus endorses. They represent for us what it looks like not
to support the status quo and yet be powerless to affect a different
outcome.
At a great deal of personal risk and no little personal expense, they
approach Pilate and request permission to give Jesus’ body a proper
burial. By tending to the body, in spite
of all the chaos and insanity surrounding them, Joseph and Nicodemus find a
moment and an opportunity to reaffirm basic human dignity; to hold true to the
standards and time-honored sensibilities of the Hebrew tradition. Their actions do not bring Jesus back to
life. They do not sway public
sentiment. They do not set wrongs. But here is what they did do. By setting Jesus’ body in a tomb they provide
the setting for the Easter moment. They
provide a place for Resurrection to happen.
These days, more and more, I find myself reflecting on the Velvet
Revolution, a series of 1989 events unfolding over six weeks in Czechoslovakia which
led to the downfall of the Soviet-backed communist party and the election of Hàclav
Havel, a poet and playwright, as the president of a free country. The revolution was fueled by students and
other dissidents who gathered nightly for prayer and the singing of hymns
before going out onto the streets to conduct peaceful protests. In less than a month, the movement, starting
with a relatively small number, began to double daily, and eventually drew over
a million people. Czechoslovakia became
the first domino to fall in what resulted in the fall of the Iron Curtain and
the demolition of the Berlin Wall. It would
be impossible to pinpoint a specific factor which launched the Velvet
Revolution, but it is fair to say what happened provided a place for
Resurrection to happen.
It seems every year I remind us the Good Friday liturgy calls the faithful
to prayer, specially to the Solemn Collects.
They remind us now that as Jesus’ work is finished, ours begins… and it
begins with prayer. This year, a part of
my prayer is our actions might provide a place for Resurrection to happen.
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