“The Seven Last Words”
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The words must have been difficult to utter, on two accounts. Having been seriously whipped, losing copious amounts of blood, walking all the way to Golgotha (the Hill of the Skull), carrying the burdensome crossbar, having his arms and legs nailed in place, suffering exhaustion and shock, every breath painful and labored, Jesus still somehow manages to speak. And yet these are not words of spite or hate or derision. No, they are the words of a prayer: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
The first words proclaimed from the cross are directed to Jesus’ Father
who, for some obscure reason, has allowed his only Son to be brutally,
savagely, and wrongfully murdered. Still, Jesus finds it in his heart and in
his dying breath to plead forgiveness for the ignorance of humanity. In the
name of God, Jesus begs pardon for those who claim to be acting in the name of
God. Which of us, thinking that we spoke for God, have done what those who
crucified Jesus did? How many of us, who are nowhere near Jesus in sinlessness,
can forgive as Jesus did?
Jesus,
the obedient Son gave himself as a sacrifice for the sins of humanity. He is
the sacrifice that accomplishes forgiveness and, in that very act, asks for the
forgiveness of all humanity, including you and me. Many people have died
horrible deaths as Jesus did, and some may have forgiven their executioners,
but only Jesus by his death fulfilled his purpose and teaching in life: to heal
the brokenness of humanity; to repair the relationship between God and the creation;
and to offer humanity a new way of living, one which God had intended for us
from the very beginning. God, forgive us, for we all to often
know what we are doing. Amen.
“Truly
I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” An incredible promise made in response to a vague
request: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” As St. Ambrose
said many years ago, “More abundant is the favor shown than the request made.” One
of those crucified with Jesus makes an incredible statement of faith but asks
for very little: simply to be remembered. What he receives is
grace heaped upon grace: the offer of Paradise.
Remarkably,
this second criminal can see something in Jesus that the first criminal
dismisses sarcastically: Jesus is the Messiah. The Messiah, the
Anointed One, the Christ, was the One that Jewish people had been expecting to
come for many years. They expected the Messiah to be a descendant of King David
and therefore they were looking for a warrior king who would drive out the
Romans and restore the kingdom of Israel as the centerpiece of the world. Jesus
hardly looked like a king to the first criminal.
It’s
been only a few days since Jesus came riding into Jerusalem like a conquering
hero sitting on a royal beast. The crowds had shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of
David. Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the
highest!” Now, the words of blessing have been turned to words of mockery; now
the shouts of “Hosanna” have been turned to shouts of “Crucify him!” Yet the
second criminal sees what the other does not: Jesus’ throne is the cross; his
humiliation is his exaltation; and his kingdom is not of this world but is the
one that God has promised since the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden:
Paradise.
Despite
evidence to the contrary, Jesus’ authority is very much intact. Jesus is very
much a king who can confer promises and blessings, even in the most hopeless of
situations. Jesus’ faith is unshaken throughout his life, and even unto death. Those
who have faith in the faithfulness of Jesus receive the saving benefits of his
kingdom, even as he dies. Jesus, remember us as you come into your kingdom, and
let us be with you in Paradise. Amen.
“Woman,
here is your son. Here is your mother.” Jesus
looks out through eyes almost swollen shut because of the beating he has taken,
eyes that are stinging from the mixture of sweat and blood pouring down from
his forehead, on which sits the crown of thorns. Still, he can see those who
are nearest and dearest to him. They are in agony because of his
agony; and he is in agony over their agony. But most importantly,
Jesus can look through the eyes of love. It’s not only love for all of humanity
but also love for those that have touched his heart in a special way: his
mother and the disciple Jesus loved.
Of
course, Jesus loves all of us, but love is deepened as relationships are
deepened. Jesus’ relationship with his mother is especially deep, almost as
deep as God’s love for the world. It’s deep because Mary is a mother like all
mothers, tied to their children with more than an umbilical cord. But it’s deep
also because Mary intimately knows the unmerited grace that chose her to bear
God’s Son. Children need mothers, and mothers need children to care for, but
mothers also need children to care for them.
And
so, Jesus, amid the gambling and pettiness, indeed amid his death, takes time
to attend to what may seem trivial in comparison to his awesome work. But it is
not trivial to him, nor is it trivial to us. He bequeaths to each other the
things most precious to him, and in doing so shows us that his work is not only
eternally significant; it is significant for the here and now. In providing for
his mother and the beloved disciple, Jesus models a pattern of
care and concern for our earthly needs and relationships.
Yet, because of the cross and what it stands for, Jesus also
demonstrates the formation of fellowship, what we now call the family of faith.
The cross marks the formation of a new people of God, at the center of which
stands Mary, Jesus’ Mother, and the Beloved Disciple, symbols of faithful
discipleship. Jesus, gather us as siblings and parents of faith. Amen.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It would be difficult to imagine any place more God
forsaken than the cross. An instrument of torture and humiliation, the cross
stands for the very opposite of God’s intention for humanity. The cross was
about the farthest place one could get from God’s purposes in the world. And
Jesus, God’s own Son, was at that place. Echoing the words of Psalm 22, a psalm
of lament, Jesus expresses that deepest of human questions that many of us have
uttered, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Should anyone dare to question the humanity of Jesus,
they would look no further than the cross and these words. We are all too aware
of Jesus’ suffering, especially those of us who have seen Mel Gibson’s “The
Passion of the Christ.” But we are less certain about his emotional state, so
we tend to speculate what was going through his mind and what these words mean.
On the surface, they seem to be words of hopelessness, faithlessness, and
despair.
Instead of trying to read Jesus’ mind, we might pay
more careful attention to his words, especially as an echo of the psalm. As a
good and faithful Jew, Jesus was comfortable with arguing with God. God chose
humanity for a special relationship, one that included frank and open
exchanges. Just as Abraham, Moses, and Jonah challenged God, so did Jesus. And
the intensity of his words is directly proportional to the depth of his faith. One
doesn’t chastise a God that one doesn’t believe in. Only those who have great
confidence in God can be disappointed when God remains aloof.
If Jesus is abandoned by God, it can only be because he
is giving his life for sinners. Sin is separation from God, and Jesus took our
sins upon himself, paying the price for us. We may not be able to know fully
what Jesus means in his anguished cry, but we also cry, “My God, my God, please
do not forsake me.” Amen.
“I am thirsty.” His tongue bloated and dry from the loss of body fluids, Jesus utters
another simple yet profound statement. “I am thirsty.” It’s a wonder he could
talk at all as he nears the end of his life. Of course, he was thirsty, as any
human being would be thirsty in that condition. Water is the lifeblood of all
creation, including our bodies, which are biologically bags of water. Without
water we die. Jesus is thirsty; Jesus is dying; and dying of thirst is a
horrible way to die.
It’s somewhat ironic, isn’t it, that the one who
claims to be the Living Water, and who promises to his followers that they will
never thirst, is thirsty himself. We who come with tongues hanging out to the
Thirsty One are told that we will never thirst nor hunger ever again. Our
tongues are bloated, and our stomachs are swollen as we seek that which truly
satisfies the deepest thirsts and hungers imaginable. For some reason, we look
for that satisfaction on the cross.
We do so because we are told that scripture says it to
be so. In a more profound sense, Jesus thirsts as a fulfillment of Scripture,
and Jesus must fulfill scripture. It’s what is called “divine
necessity” because it is what God has deemed necessary for the completion of
God’s vision of salvation. Since the very beginning, followers of Jesus have
tried to make sense of his death, and they have scoured the Scriptures trusting
that God has not done anything that contradicts what was promised and what was
necessary.
God did do something totally unexpected
and new in the sending and crucifixion of the Son, Jesus. But it was not
outside of the promises made to us in Scripture. It was necessary that Jesus
both thirst and die for us because God was determined to repair the broken
relationship with each and every one of us. Dear God, we are thirsty. Give us
some of that Living Water. Amen.
“It is finished.” Finished: over, done with, ended, completed. Any of these words can be
used but what exactly is finished? In the immediate sense, Jesus’
life is over. Soon, he will commend his spirit to God and breathe his last. The
agony of beating, scourging, and crucifixion will finally be over with. Death
may even be welcomed, though not on its own terms. To the end death only comes
when Jesus is ready for it to come. It’s over only when Jesus says it is over.
Yet, there is another meaning to, “It is finished.” Jesus’
death signals the end of his ministry on earth. No longer will Jesus preach,
teach, and heal. Already the memory of his time with humanity starts fading
from their minds. Already his presence on the earth is like some dream: faintly
recalled but earnestly desired to continue.
But with the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry comes the
completion of his mission from God. So here is another aspect to, “It is
finished.” Jesus has accomplished all that God has asked him to do, even to the
very giving of his life. For “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him may not perish…not to condemn the world
but that the world might be saved through him.” Scripture has been fulfilled as
God has promised. Though Satan’s hold on the world seems to have solidified, it
has been broken instead; the Tempter’s rule is over.
However, we who gather to ponder Jesus’ last words
know that this ending is not the ending. But let us not rush too quickly away
from the foot of the cross. We need not wallow in Jesus’ death, but it is right
that we linger a bit longer. We must acknowledge the shadow of the cross that
falls upon each of our paths. And as we anticipate the fulfillment of God’s
promises we welcome the power of the cross in our lives. It is finished. Almost.
Amen.
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” One
last gasp, and a holy one at that. Darkness now fills the earth as death is at
hand. Jesus’ unrighteous crucifixion takes on cosmic significance. So much so
that the temple curtain is torn in two from top to bottom. The powers of evil
and darkness are poised to take over the rule of the earth, waiting for Jesus’
final breath.
Breath: pneuma in the New Testament Greek; ruah
in the Old Testament Hebrew. These same words are used for breath, wind, and
spirit. It is the wind that passes over the waters of creation. It is the
breath of God that is the life force found in humanity. It is that which
enlivens the prophets of God and inspires us to follow Jesus. It’s what we call
Holy when it proceeds from the Father and Son: calling, gathering, and setting
aside disciples into the church; it bestows gifts to be used for the benefit of
all; it unifies believers into the very broken body of Jesus Christ; it
pronounces forgiveness, the same forgiveness that Jesus prays we may receive;
and it breathes in us the hope that the powers of darkness will not prevail.
Jesus, the one who was handed over to death, freely
hands over to God what God first gave him. He places himself squarely into the
hands of the One that he has always trusted, God the Father. Jesus again
displays a supreme act of human dedication by entrusting his very spirit to
God. The Spirit has been with Jesus throughout his life and ministry: at his
conception, his baptism, his transfiguration, his whole ministry of teaching,
preaching, and healing.
We who are also soil and spirit, dust and breath of God, are also handed over with Jesus. We who have been baptized into Jesus likewise have been baptized into his death. As Jesus completes his mission on earth, we who are gathered at the cross utter with great fear and trepidation, “Father, into your hands we commend our spirits.” Amen.
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