The Stations of the Cross (2) Adapted from www.preachingpeace.org

 It seems to be human nature that we want to leap over the challenging times of life and get to the good parts.  That is understandable.  However, I believe we need to not avoid the dark nights of the soul and embrace, or at least not deny those times.  How can we begin to know something of ourselves and of God when the dark times engulf us and threaten to overwhelm us?  What can we learn from those times when everything including God seems to have abandoned us?  We desire to quickly move from the despair of Good Friday to the joys of Resurrection Sunday.  I used an adaption of the Stations of the Cross on our Good Friday service. 

Last time I introduced the Stations of the Cross and looked at the first five stations.  This time I will finish our journey with Jesus to Golgotha. 

Station VI: Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem 

“Weep not for me, but for yourselves and for your children.” The women of Jerusalem want to weep for you as though your fate were unrelated to theirs, as though the violence you suffer did not own them as well. You turn their sympathy back on them; remind them that your fate is their fate, too.

How many times have we contemplated your Passion, Lord, and wanted to cry for you? How many times have we wanted to weep because of your pain, and not because we caused it? How often have we blinded ourselves to our complicity in violence by feeling sorry for the victims?

Station VII: Jesus falls Again

Jesus, you have done all that you can do. When you fall this last time, you entrust the remainder of what must be done to us. There is no more strength. You are utterly beaten, defeated, but we are not finished. Like the potter’s clay, we will now make you into what we need you to be.

How many times have we seen another’s weakness as an opportunity to shape them, to change them into what we want them to be? How many times do we take advantage of the fact that you are too weak to resist, Jesus, and fasten you to the Cross?

Station VIII: Jesus is nailed to the Cross

Hanging for hours on a cross is not cruel enough, Jesus. Watching you suffocate will not mollify our rage. Life has been so unfair to us, we have such rage that we have to use nails, instead of the traditional ropes. Rage bleeds away as nails, meant for wood, cut easily through human flesh.

How many times have we allowed our rage to drive us to cruelty? Cruel acts? Cruel speech? How many times has another borne the scars of our rage?

Station IX: Jesus dies on the Cross

We stand in stunned silence as we survey the result of our sin. The Lord of Life hangs dead from the tree. The peace we pursued as we chased you up the hill refuses to come. As we gaze upon you, Jesus, our victim, the realization dawns. Violence will never again bring peace, and we are terrified.

Mute with horror, we stumble to our homes, as though the earth were moving under our feet. The ground itself seems unsteady as we contemplate a world without violence. On what will we stand?

Station X: Jesus is taken down from the Cross.

We have all departed by the time the guards permit those who love you to bring you down from the Cross. Once the spectacle ended, we are compelled to leave. There is something horrible and fascinating about you as you hang there, and it frightens us. We leave the task of dealing with your body to those who are already unclean.

How often, O Lord, have we fled our own horror, left the care of the dead and the dying to others? How many times have we let our fear of the power of death drive us into hiding?

Station XI: Jesus is laid in the tomb 

In a tomb that you could never have afforded, those who did not abandon you, those who refused to join the mob, lay your body to rest with great tenderness. There is nothing divine in the torn flesh, nothing holy in the bloodied brow. There is only sorrow, deeper than the greatest trenches in the ocean. Sorrow.

You will breathe life once again into our deadened spirits, Jesus, but not on this day. Today we walk as those robbed of hope, shuffling from one place to another as though we belonged in the tomb with you. Perhaps, without the breath of your new life, that is precisely where we belong.

Silence

Sermon Easter Sunday 2015

Was there anything in the Gospel reading that was a surprise for you?  Everyone here knows that we have gathered here today to celebrate the empty tomb.  Jesus Christ is risen today; Hallelujah. In fact I invite you to join with me in that wonderful declaration: Jesus Christ is risen today; Hallelujah.

That being said was there anything contained in the reading that surprized you?  One of the principles I attempt to follow in my biblical study and reflection is; the Gospel should surprize you every time you encounter it—either reading it yourself or hearing it proclaimed.    I first heard this approach to engaging the Gospel from Fr. Bill Cliff, the chaplain at Huron College.  It is one that can be challenging but can be very rewarding.  The idea is to approach the bible with fresh eyes and let it speak to you anew each time—to make it the living word of God and not just an old, old story which does not speak to you.

Given that approach, how can we make this old, old story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ surprizing to us?  I heard an interview on CBC radio a few weeks ago that I believe may be of help exploring some surprizing aspects of the Resurrection story.

The person being interviewed spoke about how his son was completely enthralled by a video of the movie Pinocchio.  His son was five years old and he must have watched it fifty times. Now this is not terribly surprizing as any parent knows the experience of having to read a story to their child innumerable times and God forbid you try to skip any part of it.  The surprizing thing in this account was that the child was terrified by the part of the story where Pinocchio was swallowed by the whale.  As I recall. the Disney version of the story—which is the one the boy watched—it is easy to see how a young child could be scared by it.  The father, who is a professor of psychology, noted that his son was compelled to watch it despite being scared because the story was one which was archetypal in its structure and meaning.  It held meaning which resonated with his son on a very deep level. 

I believe that this is in large part what brings us back each year to travel the journey of our Lord and Saviour from his journey to Jerusalem, to his triumphal entry that we celebrated last Sunday, to his agony in the Garden of Gethsemane and the passion of Good Friday, and now the triumph of the glorious resurrection that we celebrate today.  In this we have an eternal truth that resonates with us on a deep level.  We know that our Redeemer lives; the power of death has been defeated.

What then is the deep truth that compels us to hear the story and journey with our Saviour each year?  Again, let us turn to that story of Pinocchio.  To remind you this story is an account of an animated puppet, a puppet that is alive but is still a wooden puppet, and his journey to become a real boy.  This is the key to the surprize in today’s Gospel and for us in the Easter story.  The surprise is that Jesus has shown us what it means to be real people just as Pinocchio learned how to be a real boy.  Jesus revealed to us what it means to be fully human.  We have been journeying with Jesus in this Easter journey.  This is an introduction to becoming truly human.  To do that we must do as Jesus commanded and pick up our crosses and follow him.  This is not an easy journey that Jesus showed us.  It led him to the cross.  However, if we are to become the people that God intended us to be when God created us we must pick up our cross and follow him.

How can we possibly do that? Does it mean that we are all to be crucified as Christ was?  I believe that in symbolic ways we are called to that.  Again the key is contained in the story of Pinocchio.  Pinocchio was faced with the reality that when he told a lie—when he did not live the truth of who he was it was evident to all who had eyes to see.  His nose grew longer with every lie he told.  As followers of Jesus Christ our risen saviour we are called to live the truth just as Jesus lived out the truth of who he was. 

We are called above all not to lie to others but more importantly to ourselves.  If we tell ourselves that it does not matter how we treat others—that is a lie.  If we tell ourselves that it doesn’t matter if we cheat on our taxes—as long as we don̓ t get caught—that is a lie.  If we tell ourselves that I am not my brother’s keeper—that is a lie.  If we tell ourselves that the there is nothing I can do to help someone in need—that is a lie.  If we tell ourselves that it doesn’t matter that we don’t pray and read scripture regularlythat is a lie. 

If we live the truth of Christ in our lives we will become fully human well will become a real person as Pinocchio became a real boy.  We will know more fully the love of Christ in our lives.  We will know, truly know, that the power of sin and death has been defeated and we will live our lives free from that fear of death, the death of a thousand lies which holds us captive in its thrall.  That is the surprise and the wonder of Easter.   Jesus Christ is risen today; Hallelujah.