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After midnight
Good Friday, Holy Week, April 14, 2017
Jesus said to Peter, “Put your sword away. Shall I not drink the cup the Father gave me?” – from John 18
I wasn’t there, but I’d have fallen asleep just like them. How could we not turn our eyes from what is about to happen? When the sun goes down, there is darkness. Light waits hours before it comes again.
Dark’s scratchy shape waits in malice, lurks, prepares for my approach. But dark also welcomes me, warm and wet and made of womb. Let me see those pictures in my mind and choose the one that’s best for now.
Yesterday Margaret and I scrambled to finish our taxes. I didn’t want to think about taxes today. Mary Oliver writes quietly, outside with pad across her lap: “This is called: stay away from me with your inches, and your savings accounts, and your plums in a jar. Your definitive anything.” Stay away today with taxes.
Across Christendom, men and women sit or kneel in thrall, suffering 14 ways with Jesus on this most awful good Friday. We sit together, turn together, kneel together, pray that our communal words will ward off the dangerous dark. We choose together the settling into womb.
In Gethsemane … into their deepest prayers strangers’ voices come, and torches tear them from each other. Jesus’ prayers rip the night. “Let this fall away from me!” “Do what is right for the time and for the ones you’ve made, Abba. Here we stand together.”
After rebuking Peter’s violence, Jesus says little more. He touches Malchus and repairs his severed ear. He looks straight ahead as Judas kisses him. And he is taken. In the dangerous dark reluctant guards cuff him along. They hurry him. They too are frightened. Their lights are going out.
Torches flicker. The disciples cannot believe this is happening. The guards’ bravado is restored as they realize Jesus will not resist. Little do they know. We cannot help but weep at what is happening. What is about to happen.
Jesus will feel a crown of thorns. His back will be bared to a vicious whip. His followers will be lost in a crowd of no-nothings who shout only for a bribe. “Give us Barabbas!”
So what is worse, washing my hands of blood or crying, “Crucify him!” Shall I simply turn away in my denial and pretend I’m not involved? But this time there is no turning back.
They raise the cross into the midday sun, and Jesus begins to die.
But as Mary Oliver continues, “If life is so various, so shifting, what could we possibly say of death, that black leaf, that has in it any believable finality?”
Lord, this is such a gloomy day! My voice hestitates, afraid. I’m ashamed and hide, running far away from you. What have I done? I meant nothing by it, Lord, this silent collusion with death. Jesus, you must save me from my sins; I cannot save myself. I lose my breath, and I lose my life. You are all I have. Oh please!
http://www.davesandel.net/category/lent-easter-devotions-2017/
http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archived_devotions.php?article_id=1600
