GOOD FRIDAY 2011 – Homily #1 (Father Kent
McNair)
Text:
In a few minutes we will read the
passion story as recorded by
Human beings have an inherent
awareness that they need to make some sort of sacrifices to the gods, or to
God. Every culture and tradition, in some way or another, has within it the
rituals of sacrifice. The message I would like us to hear tonight is that since
The Sacrifice has been
made, we no longer need to offer up our sacrifices to God, but simply accept what Christ has
done, and then live our lives as if this sacrifice was made for us.
So in this chapter, after setting
forth the truth that there is no more need for sacrifice, the writer to Hebrews
gives us encouragement on what difference this should make for our lives.
Paraphrasing his words, he says that, since we are forgiven and made
clean by the blood of Jesus, we can
enter into the presence of God with confidence,
and as we say in our liturgy,
even with boldness. Jesus has broken down the barrier of sin between us
and our Father in heaven. Thus with bold faith we can pray and sit in God’s
presence without fear of judgment.
Second, we
have a hope which, through confessing
that hope, gives strength to our lives.
Hope in a risen Lord who loves us and cares for us changes our lives. Christians
are people of hope, and hope looks beyond the present realities of life. The
people who received this letter were suffering for their faith, and thus, if they
remained faithful to Jesus, they might
continue to suffer. But the writer encourages them that they have a hope which
goes beyond this life and is rooted in the one who sits at the right hand of
God. Thus, he says, “Let us
hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has
promised is faithful.”
He then challenges his readers to “provoke one another to love and good
deeds” and to “encourage
one another” in their Christian walk.
Christians,
having received forgiveness themselves, are then challenged to live as the one who
loved and forgave and sacrificed for them.
If you read this passage carefully, you will see the
three great themes of the Christian life:
faith, hope and hope. These great
theme are not laws,
and they are not sacrifices that we offer up to God to get God to
love and forgive us. The one sacrifice has been made. We accept, and hope and
love in natural response.
So as we prepare ourselves to hear
the passion story, let
us hear this story with an awareness that the life and death of Jesus were
meant to change our lives. When we hear
the story of Jesus’ betrayal, trial, suffering and death, let us hear it with an awareness that
it was done for us. It was done to produce faith and hope and love in us. But this can only happen if we hear with our
hearts. It is my prayer and hope that
tonight, tomorrow, Easter day, and the rest of our lives, all of us hear will accept and embrace the
sacrifice offered for us on this day many years ago. AMEN!
Good Friday 2011 Homily #2 (Pastor Liz Armstrong)
Psalm 22
Psalm 22.
We hear it and read it
several times during Holy Week.
The images are uncomfortable,
painful even.
My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?
I am a worm and no man.
Packs of dogs close me in.
Be not far away, O Lord.
Save me from the lion’s
mouth.
A lament
written long before the time of Jesus.
Yet words that were on his
very lips as he suffered.
Who could want that feeling, that experience for him?
To feel forsaken, alone,
forgotten, abandoned.
And yet, who among us has not
had our very own moments like this.
When God
felt far away.
Or even beyond far away.
When it felt as if God’s back
was turned to us and our cries were falling on deaf ears.
Even in this moment, some of us
are feeling that very thing.
Alone, forgotten, ignored by
God.
With life
caving in on every side.
As if the hungry, roaring
lions are circling.
And packs of dogs are closing
in.
Encircled
by evildoers.
Surrounded
by those who wish us harm and gloat over our struggle and our suffering.
How can we not be bowled over
by a God who knows just what that feeling is like?
The words on the lips of our
savior are these words.
My God why have you forsaken
me?
Those are the very words that
play across our lips in our worst moments.
You see.
We are not alone.
Our God stepped willingly
into the life that came to this.
He knows our pain.
He knows our brokenness.
He feels our pain and our
brokenness.
Our God knows what it is to be
overwhelmed by evil and by the pain of life.
Jesus, the man whose
appearance was so marred
Scorned by all and despised
by the people.
That is our God.
This is the depth and breadth
of the most astonishing love ever to be.
A love that
suffered willingly that moment of separation from God.
That moment
of feeling forsaken.
This is the very love that
cries out to us from the cross.
The very
love that calls us to turn our heads and see the plan that God has to make
things right.
There it is on the cross.
Suffering
beyond suffering.
Love beyond love.
Our Lord
hanging in shame and crying out.
My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?
He bears it all in that
moment.
Willingly…
for us.
It’s astonishing.
That love is truly astonishing.
GOOD FRIDAY 2011 – Homily #3 (Father Kent
McNair)
Text: Isaiah 52:13-53:12
It is a good and joyful thing that we begin
our Good Friday meditations with this amazing passage from the prophet Isaiah.
As I pondered it for this message, I was struck by the phrase from the
prophet: “Who has believed what we have heard?” It is as if he is saying:” Nobody will
believe this.” Or “Who is going to
believe this?” And as we stand here
today, this
often still is the cry of our hearts and our minds.
Somehow, someway, through the presence of the Spirit of
God, it is as if Isaiah knew Jesus and
was present at his crucifixion. He sees
the life of Jesus, a
human being growing up with no form or majesty,
with no outward appearance or beauty that would make him stand out among
men. He sees him despised and rejected by his people, and almost feels his sorrows and
grief. He sees him led like a lamb to the slaughter, standing before Pilate, saying little and
not asserting his authority. He sees the trial as a perversion of justice. He
sees his marred face. He sees his wounds and punishment on the cross, and he
sees the people saying and believing that he is suffering on account of his own
sins. He sees his tomb and burial, but he then sees that this suffering
will bring light and hope and righteousness to many. He sees that this one will
be like a conqueror who has earned all the spoils of victory and his days will
be prolonged.
And then, in reflecting upon these
events that he sees,
he says that this one is doing all of this for others – for
us!! He has borne our infirmities. He
is wounded for our transgressions. He is crushed for our iniquities. The Lord
lays upon him our sin. He is cut off from the land of the living for his
people’s sake. He is made an offering for sin to make others righteous. He
bears the sins of others so that he can make intercession for sinners. Yet this
same one, will
be exalted and lifted up. He shall be very high. Kings shall be amazed. The
nations will find it hard to believe.
And thus we today also, I think,
must cry out, who
can believe this?
The Good Friday to Easter story to
many is a story impossible to believe. It simply defies the logic of the
rational mind. And yet here we sit. Why
are we here? Are we just a bunch of deluded human beings desperately trying to
find meaning in our lonely and pathetic lives?
Is our religion a drug to try and stave off the meaningless and pain of
life? This is of course what many think about we who believe.
But you know what, I don’t care how
logical or rational you are,
life itself is not logical or rational. The truth is, the most meaningful
and wonderful things of life are things that we cannot quantify or measure or
really explain. Who can explain the joy and pleasure that comes from our
experience of watching the sun set over the ocean? Who can explain the love between a mother and
a child, or between a man and a woman? Who can explain the pleasure we get from
music or art? And on the other hand, who
can explain the totally irrational acts of war and killing and hatred and envy
and fear? Who can explain why a man
beats up his wife or abuses his children? What logic exists in creating better
and better weapons to kill other human beings? I could go on, but the truth is, we human beings ourselves prove that there is
more to our human story than rational and logical thinking and behavior.
So as we go through this service
and the gather for worship on Easter, listen and pay attention to your
hearts, or souls, and realize that the
gospel message is speaking to that deeper part of our being that knows and
understands sin and evil and death;
but also knows faith and hope and
trust and beauty and justice and longs for life. Do not be afraid, or ashamed,
to embrace the simple Gospel story.
Good Friday 2011 Homily #4 (Pastor Liz Armstrong)
John 18:1-19:37
Where did you see yourself in
that story?
Who captured your ear and
drew you in?
Was it Judas?
How little we know about what
formed his heart.
About what chipped away at
his soul until it seemed like the right thing to do to sell out the very man
that washed his feet.
How does that happen?
Do you sense that in
yourself…tiny increments of drifting away.
Of losing
sight of the big picture, the God picture.
Losing sight bit by bit of
seeing life as bigger than just what you want from it?
Or was it Peter that captured
you?
First in
line to stand up for Jesus.
And then suddenly doing and
saying things that betray the very things you know you believe in.
In an
instant throwing Jesus under the bus.
Was it Pontius Pilate?
The one
with power who reluctantly gives in to the crowd.
Letting
slip away a chance to do the right thing because the voices to do something
else were so loud.
Was he so bad, so evil?
Or did he simply go with the
tide?
Did you see someone at the
cross that caught your attention?
The women
who always seem to be close at hand.
Faithful,
loyal, willing to risk in order to be wherever Jesus is.
Did you see yourself in them?
The
soldiers casting lots and dividing the spoils.
The
disciples watching and waiting…powerless to make this horrible thing stop.
Did you see yourself in them?
There were two more people
there.
The other
two men on the crosses.
One on
either side of this man who has stirred up so many people.
In other Gospel accounts we
hear their voices.
One man mocks Jesus even as
they hang.
The other rebukes him and
cries out that unlike them, Jesus has done no wrong.
Voices,
crying out from the cross.
Who will we be?
Where will our hearts take us
as we struggle to capture what it means to us that Jesus died like this?
Will we lose heart?
Will we wander?
Will we follow the tide of
the crowds around us?
Will we run to be wherever
Jesus is no matter what the cost?
The truth is we are a bit of
all of this.
Faithful
and at moments betraying.
Loyal and
at moments wandering.
Steadfast
and at moments turned away by whatever is around us.
The glory of the cross is not
that we are condemned by it.
It stands there not to
convict us and take away hope.
The glory of the cross is in
its power to go beyond all of that.
It’s what we’re all waiting
for.
We’re not quite there.
We’re still here.
The motley
crew waiting at the foot of the cross for our hope to spring alive.
And it will, I promise.
But until
then.
Here we are.
Kneeling, holding hands,
wondering what good can come now.
Now that he’s dead.
What good can come now?