Good Friday

See commentary on the passion of John 18:1-19:42 in John 18:1-12, John 18:13-28, John 18:29-40 & John 19:1-16.


Homily 1 - 2018

Jesus’ Agony in the Garden.. Jesus’ garden experience was a different suffering from today’s scourging, crowning with thorns and crucifixion. It was an inner wrestle [that is what agony really means], in some ways more intense than the physical suffering that followed – though John’s Gospel chose to say nothing about it. Perhaps, in our different ways, each of us knows something of what that inner wrestle involved.

Did you hear today’s Second Reading, “It is not as if we had a high priest who was incapable of feeling our weaknesses with us; but we have one who has been tempted in every way that we are [though he is without sin].” The author than went on to add cryptically, “Although he was Son, he learnt to obey through suffering.”

It is against this background that I try to make sense of what is going on in our Church, the Body of Christ, at the moment. Yesterday’s Warrnambool Standard carried news of the coming trial of a former priest of the diocese [again!] for what are called “historical sexual offences”. He has already spent time in gaol for similar offences committed against victims from nearby Penshurst.

Each time we are confronted with news of this type, we suffer. The degree of our suffering, of course, is nothing like that of the victims themselves or their families and close friends, but it is real. It hurts. It saddens us yet again. We feel angry, and anywhere from bewildered, confused, helpless, indignant, betrayed. Suffering like this becomes temptation. How do we respond? Some of us move into denial and try to get on with life. Some of us have walked away. Some of us feel the pain, but choose to stay, perhaps content to do nothing, perhaps trying to find ways to respond constructively.

Did Christ feel pain like this? Did he know temptations to helplessness, bitterness, confusion, anger, despair? The scriptural author said “he was tempted in every way that we are”. Would some of his agony have been fuelled by his struggling to face and to overcome similar inner pressures?

Fascinatingly, the author also added the bit about, “he leant to obey through suffering”. What might that mean? We are not told. It is important to realize that “obey” in this context means something like “tune in to the heart of the other”, “share what the other feels” – the “other” in this case being God his Father. I think that Jesus learnt that to hang in and not lose hope, not choose not to love this sin-twisted world, was essentially what his Father was about. So, though he struggled to do so, and it cost him dearly, he chose to continue to hope and to love, and even to surrender his life for us very imperfect human beings.

You are all here this afternoon. You have hung in. We do not judge those who have chosen otherwise. We do not know the depth of their pain. But by doing so, despite the struggle, we begin to experience even now the truth of the author’s observation, “Jesus became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation”. May we continue to experience it ever more deeply.


 

 Homily 2 - 2021

John’s Gospel built up a picture of the dying Christ as a king. It showed Jesus effectively in control of things — when he was arrested in the garden; as he stood straight before Pilate and discussed his power and kingship with him; as he carried his own cross unassisted to Calvary; as he handed over his mother and the beloved disciple to the care of each other; as in his death, he handed over his spirit. He appeared as a Christ whom we could well admire.

And a problem presents itself here. Our reaction can even be one of admiration; and as such it can quickly be forgotten. It interests us briefly —but it does not challenge us. The Jesus we so easily admire was in fact the Jesus who underwent deep, deep suffering. It is hard for us to hold both facts together. We tend to opt for one or the other. We would prefer to imitate the one we admire; and that is fair enough. But we are instinctively much less attracted to the Jesus who failed, who was deeply dehumanised and degraded, who himself wrestled in the garden with profound depression and perhaps even the feeling of despair.

Pope Francis, in a homily he delivered in Rome last weekend, suggested that what we really need is not so much admiration as amazement. Perhaps, more amazement might help us accept our own failures, our own experiences of humiliation, our own disappointment and even depression — to face them and deal with them, rather than deny them. The fascinating thing about Jesus is that, in the midst of his suffering, he continued to love.

Jesus is not an idea, he is so much more than an ideal — he is a person. We can love persons and we can let persons love us. We cannot love an idea or an ideal. Our lives need a fair dose of amazement if we are not to succumb to boredom, to mediocrity. It is so easy to get used to the image of Jesus crucified. We might even wear it on gold chain around our necks as a piece of jewellery. The question that matters is does it challenge us, confront us even?

I find myself honestly challenged to spend time with the memory of Jesus crucified. I can feel so detached.