Good Friday Reflection 1 of 4

Crucifixion

Read Mark 15:16-32

You sit, waiting to hear the words of the speaker. And here I stand, about to deliver four reflections, as we watch with the dying Jesus. But I am not here to perform, as if this pulpit were some sort of stage. Neither are you the audience.  The world is the stage and it is you who are the performers. The play of life you act and live out has but one audience and that audience is God.  And me? I am but the person in the prompting box who whispers words of encouragement that might assist you as you act out the story of your lives.

That is an important perspective to take. What matters here is not so much as what I say, but your own conversations with God. Silence will be the key part of this hour we share together. As we stand together at the foot of the cross on which Jesus hangs, dying, what is it that he says to you? And what do you say to him? And in this encounter, can you find a sense of communion with the living God?

For four years I lived in Lincoln, based at the theological college there. Near the college could be found the Castle, part of which is still a working Law Court. Here, in days gone by, many would have heard the dreaded words of their death sentence. Near the castle is a pub, called ‘The Strugglers’ with a rather fine sign, showing two men struggling to move a large cask of ale. But actually the word ‘struggle’ originally meant something rather different.

It is a long-established pub and it got its name, because it was were people bought their ale as they watched those struggling for their life on the gallows, in what were very much public executions. To die in this way was a protracted and very painful process.

In time, of course, such executions became very much sanitized, being carried out away from the public eye. The 20^th Century hangman, Albert Pierrepoint, so perfected his technique that his record, from entering the cell of the condemned to their death was less than 8 seconds.

In Jesus’ day, executions were public, outside the city wall and crucifixion was designed to be as slow, as painful and as degrading as possible. The victim was hung up by rope (or to make the pain worse, nails were also used).

Each breath, over many hours (or even days) meant pulling against the nails to lift the body enough to take another breath. You would suffocate without that next breath, so the fight for life demanded that you pull against the nails, despite the agonising pain. And that explains why, after Jesus was dead, the other victims had their legs broken. Death, for them, would be almost instant, if they could no longer lift their bodies. But Jesus was already dead, his dying was relatively quick, yet it was still three hours of drawn out agony.

Perhaps for us, as we make the sign of the cross, as we mark baptismal candidates with the cross, as we hang crosses around our necks, and as we decorate our churches with crosses, it is sometimes possible to forget the grim and gory cruelty of this obscene form of killing.  For Jesus, as a Jew, an added horror lay in the belief that anyone who died in this way was forever cursed by God (Deut Ch 21). This death was the ultimate humiliation and horror.

Jesus had known that being true to his destiny would end up here, yet still he had travelled to Jerusalem and unstintingly had preached the Good News of the Kingdom and lived out the values of that Kingdom, even though it challenged the vested interests of the religious leaders of his time. He walked this way for you. At the Last Supper, he already knew that it would be his chosen friends who would let him down and betray him.

In the Garden of Gethsemane he wrestled in prayer over what being true to his message would mean. Should he go on? Could he go on? He knew just what the appalling consequences would be. So he surrenders himself to his destiny. He must be faithful to the ministry laid on him by his heavenly Father.

And now he hangs there, dying, for you – dying for me.

I wonder if you have ever sat at the bedside of someone who is dying. Perhaps you have been able to say things to each other that needed to be said. Perhaps what needed to be said was left unsaid and perhaps you are left with regrets – I wish I had had the chance to say what I wanted to say. Sudden death, or being away from someone who dies, can take away the chance for that final conversation. I wish I had had the chance to say I love you. A death which allows time for conversations can be the opportunity to say things to each other which are important and even healing.

So here we are. We stand at the foot of a gallows on which Jesus is dying. He chose this path because he wants you to discover and live the life of the Kingdom of Heaven. What conversation do you and he need to have?  What might you want to say to him, as you reflect on what he has given himself up to, for you? And if you can keep silent for a while, what might he be saying to you as you travel along the journey of this earthly life to what will one day be your own earthly ending? Imagine yourself into the scene. What are your thoughts? What are your emotions – and is God saying something to you through what you feel?