Our Bishop, Jeffrey Lee sent this poem, actually an ancient Syriac hymn, to the clergy in his Easter Greeting to us

St. Charles Episcopal Church - St. Charles, IL
April 2, 2010 – Good Friday
Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 10:16-25; John 18:1-19:42
The Rev. Elizabeth Meade

Our Bishop, Jeffrey Lee sent this poem, actually an ancient Syriac hymn, to the clergy in his Easter Greeting to us. What I found lovely about this hymn was that it interwove both the reality that faces us as we visit again the sadness that is today, Good Friday, and the hope that is fulfilled in Easter. Let me read it to you:

They ran towards me, the dead.
They cried out, “Take pity on us, O Son of God!
Deliver us out of the darkness that fetters us.
Open the gate for us that we may go out with you.
We see that death has no hold on you.
Deliver us also, for you are our Savior!
And I heard their voices and I traced my name on their heads.
So they are free and they belong to me.

I needn’t stand up here to make you more aware than we already are about the brutality of Jesus’ crucifixion. We read the story in various versions both on Palm Sunday and today, and we can’t help but be drawn in by its horrible reality. But there is always some sort of disconnect for us. I physically recoil from thoughts of torture, so these images of crucifixion are difficult for me. I always heave a sigh of relief that we don’t “do” crucifixions any more – as if that changes anything.

We shy away from that which is too hard to bear. Even when we rue the horrible miscarriage of justice that was handed down to Jesus by Pilate and the crowd shouting “Crucify Him, Crucify Him” we hope, vainly, that the judgment might change, just this once, but it doesn’t. The story remains the same. History doesn’t change. God doesn’t change. In fact, the only thing that can change is us. Year after year, we listen, we internalize, and we may even promise to try to love God more, to follow Christ more faithfully. We can change. We can change our hearts, our commitment, our priorities.

It always seems to be a bit of an anomaly that we call this day of mourning Good Friday. What’s “Good” about it? Certainly not that the mob won, or that Jesus was crucified. What is good about Good Friday is the hope the story offers us. It’s so easy to miss, that glimmer of hope, because we are so thwarted by the details: the miscarriage of justice, the sour wine, the mocking, and the horrible death. Yet the hope is there. We find it in one sentence. One sentence so short it is easy to miss, in the face of the rejection by Peter, in the face of Pilate’s futile attempts to free Jesus, in the earshot of those resounding voices who shouted “Crucify him, crucify him!” And the sentence is this:

He bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

For us.
For us he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
It is in this sentence that we find the good in Good Friday.
In that sentence lies the key to our hope in and through Christ Jesus.
What if…..
What if we bowed our heads and gave up our spirit of greed, of persuasion, of sinfulness? What if we bowed our heads, and gave up our spirits, and replaced our own egos with the Spirit of God nestled already in our hearts? What then?

Tonight, as we hear the nails being banged into the cross, as we cringe from the story of our Lord’s torturous death, as we come forward to the cross, do not wallow in your sinfulness. Instead, Bow your head, and resolve to give up your spirit.

Come not to be mired in your sins, but to ask forgiveness and to move on.
Come not to be mired in your own shortcomings, but be filled with resolve.
Because of this gift, because Jesus bowed his head and gave up his Spirit,
we can become the light of the world. We can be changed.
But this will only happen if we can follow Jesus right to the cross.

If we can bow our heads and give up our spirits. Give up our spirits so that we are lead not as sinners dwelling in hopelessness, but as children of God, children led by the Spirit of God. It is then, my brothers and sisters, that we will realize that no tragedy – not even death – can separate us from the love of God.

Nothing can overwhelm God’s providence, love, and grace.

Once again that ancient Syriac hymn:

Amen.