April 2, 2010 - Good Friday, Year C (RCL)
There is a much loved classic genre of paintings, the deathbed scene.
In it
a person lies in bed, dying.
At one side, there is the doctor, portly, officious,
stethoscope dangling around his neck.
On the other side, the priest,
crucifix or bible in hand.
And clustered around the foot o the bed, the family,
waiting for the dying person’s final words
to drop from their lips.
There is something uniquely powerful
about the last words a person says,
something peculiarly authentic. I guess we assume
that if you know time is short, you won’t waste your words;
you’ll say
what really
matters.
And so we always hope
that the last words we hear from someone’s mouth
will be words we can hang on to, words we can cherish,
words that will say something about who they are,
and what we share.
Last words are perhaps the most precious legacy we receive in a death,
more precious than any
material inheritance.
Which is why
that the gospel writers
thought to record
the last words of Jesus
as he hung
on the cross.
Of course, just like many families,
the gospel writers don’t quite agree on what those final words were.
Matthew and Mark report them as,
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Luke remembers,
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”
And John hears Jesus say,
“It is finished.”
Each gospel writer remembers the words
that make most sense to them,
the words
that bring them comfort.
Matthew and Mark remember Jesus quoting Psalm 22,
a psalm that begins in despair
but ends in trust.
Jesus draws on his Jewish religious heritage
to put into words
his fear and desolation
and to call on God
to being him once again
to a place of trust.
It’s a journey we all struggle to make
at some time
or another.
Luke hears that confident word of faith,
Jesus, in spite of all his fears
trusting himself to God.
It’s the faith we all hope to have, faith strong enough to sustain us
at the very worst of times.
And John, John hears a word addressed this time
not to God
but to the people
at the foot of the cross.
The people waiting,
whose dreams had been dashed, whose plans for a revolution were foiled, whose hope in the Messiah
was faltering.
“It is finished.”
It sounded like Jesus
was telling them to go home.
That his mission had failed.
That he - and God - had lost.
But that wasn’t
what Jesus meant.
His crucifixion
is the greatest paradox there is.
Because what looked like failure
was in fact
success.
What looked like human vistory
was actually God’s plan.
What looked like death
was the beginning
of life.
“It is finished,” Jesus said. “It is finished.
The reign of death.
The power of evil.
The curse of the fall.
The broken relationship
between humanity and God.
All that is over, done, history.
It is finished.”
And so, with the death of Jesus,
we live in a world
where death no longer has its sting,
where evil can not, in the end, be victorious,
where the curse of the fall is lifted and the promise of Eden
regained,
where we
are at peace with God.
Jesus’ work is done.
It is finished. Thanks be
to God.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2010