Good Friday Meditations on the 7 Last Words of Christ

Meditations on The Seven Last Words of Christ

I originally composed this series of meditations to accompany a performance of Franz Joseph Haydn's "The Seven Last Words of Christ" with the Arianna String Quartet at The Tassel Performing Arts Center in Holdrege, Nebraska. Haydn's moving piece is comprised of nine movements inspired by the story of the crucifixion and these final statements of Jesus from the cross.  - Eric Massanari

Introduction:

The cross of Christ:

it has become such a ubiquitous image—

in sacred and secular settings alike—

that we might be tempted to forget that

the cross is more than a symbol.

When it is colorfully painted and hung on walls,

cast in precious metals,

adorned with costly gems,

suspended from necks and earlobes,

we understandably lose some

elementary memory of the cross.

The cross was an instrument of death.

More than this, of course,

it was an instrument of death as punishment—

a death meant to be tortuously slow, agonizingly painful,

and humiliatingly public.

The cross was an instrument of an empire

intent on maintaining power and control,

and willing to do it through violence and fear.

Even more, the cross is the very desecration of life—

the life created in the image of God,

the life pronounced good,

the life that is a light to all people.

The life of Christ

follows a path that must pass through

the desecrating violation of the cross.

All who would seek to follow the Way of Christ,

must remember that this is part of the story.

The story of Jesus' public ministry began in the wilderness,

fasting, praying, listening, and confronting

a tempting voice calling out:

“Be relevant!” “Be wonderful!” “Be powerful!”

All were temptations to place himself

at the very center of things.

These temptations he released,

so that Love might remain at the center.

Luke, the gospel writer, tells us that at the end

of this time of wilderness fasting

the Deceiver left him until a more opportune time.

There were many “opportune times” that followed

as Jesus had to decide again and again whether to walk

a way of power and control, or a way of compassion and vulnerability.

What more opportune a time for temptation could there be

than that moment when one is aware

that suffering and death are approaching?

The temptation to flee, to fight, to hide is strong.

Jesus, in the end, chooses to walk the way

that so many other human beings

have been forced to walk in this world.

He does not resist or avoid this path;

rather, with self-emptying love

he redeems it and transforms it.

Shortly before he was arrested and killed,

Jesus shared a simple meal of bread and wine with his friends.

He likened the bread to his body, offered to them.

He shared the wine as a sign of his blood

poured out as an oblation for the world.

And he also told them this:

There is no greater love than this:

to lay down one's life for one's friends.

And now....

The Seven Last Words of Christ.

1. When they came to the place called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:33-34)

Jesus speaks words of mercy

for those who pounded the nails,

and those who divided the spoils.

He speaks words of release

for silent bystanders,

and absent friends.

His words are a beatitude for the blind,

a blessing for the ignorant.

In this life it is difficult enough

to forgive those who see their trespasses with honesty

and who come to us with apology.

But this,

this forgiveness for all—

all who do not yet see with honest eyes,

all who do not yet weep with contrite hearts,

all who do not yet speak the words, “I am sorry”—

this seems like some strange,

imbalanced equation of love....

….that is, until we come to know our own need for it:

our own need for such unmerited release,

our own need for such immeasurable mercy.

Father, forgive us, for we do not know what we are doing.

2. One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied, “Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:39-43)

I imagine this thief having no one there

at the foot of his own cross.

No one is there to bear witness to his death,

or weep for his suffering.

I imagine his as a life of wounding,

betrayal, and burned bridges.

There is nothing here to indicate that

he was one of the faithful.

He recites no prayer or creed,

he offers no pious confession

to try and prove he is worthy of anything.

He simply asks to be remembered by one other person

in this moment of his suffering, and his dying.

The thief is assured of this, and much more.

Jesus gives him an immeasurable gift of mercy and welcome—

the full welcome extended to a beloved child of God

at the moment of homecoming.

Today you will be with me in paradise.

3. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold your son.” Then he said to the disciple whom he loved, “Behold your mother.” (John 19:26-27)

I'm so glad I'm a part of the family of God,

I've been washed in the fountain,

cleansed by his blood!

Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod,

for I'm part of the family,

the family of God.

The old hymn emerges from childhood memory.

It frightened me then—it disturbs me now—

with it's image of washing in blood.

Blood: that current of life within our bodies.

When blood flows out, something is wrong;

a wound needs mending,

a body needs healing,

a relationship needs reconciling.

What could be more wrong than a mother

or father witnessing the bleeding,

suffering, and dying of their own child?

“Blood relatives” is what we call those

with whom we share foremothers and forefathers.

Jesus points beyond so small a clan

and reveals the familial bonds

found in our common humanity.

His entire ministry was devoted to

pointing people to the truth that our lives

are forever woven together with our neighbors,

joined in the eternal diastole and systole

of the great, beating heart of God.

The suffering of one is the suffering of all.

The joy of one is the joy of all.

Even from the cross Jesus points to our neighbor near at hand

and the stranger far away and says:

Here is your son, your daughter.....

here is your sister, your brother....

here is your mother, your father......

4. From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o'clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

It is the cry of the abandoned,

an anguished charge

against an absentee God.

For some these may seem

the most unsettling words uttered by Jesus.

Artful exegetes have gone to great lengths

to try and soften the bitterness of these words.

For many others, though,

there is great grace in knowing

that Jesus dared to pray this prayer.

Jesus joins his voice with countless others

who have uttered such a brokenhearted cry.

These words have been spoken in many tongues,

in many lands, in many horrible moments of history.

This is the prayer of the battlefield,

the concentration camp, and the mass grave.

It is the prayer of the famine stricken, the abused,

the raped, and the neglected.

It is the prayer of the ailing and the dying.

This is the only prayer one can offer

when nothing remains to give solace,

and the longing is all that is left.

For many who have known such despair

there is a great gift here:

the gift of knowing that Love went so far as to

pass through this deepest darkness,

and utter these terrible words,

and then dare to wait for an answer....

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

5. Knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I thirst.” A jar of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. (John 19:28-29)

The thirst for water is a longing

that unites one life with all life,

one body with the great body of beings.

With these words Jesus gives voice

to his own particular need,

and in the same moment

reminds us of a need common to all.

We all come to know thirst in this life,

the feeling of dry mouths and parched lips,

and the tissue-deep longing of our body for water.

We may also come to recognize a deeper thirst:

the Spirit-birthed thirst of our souls.

This is our thirst

for meaning,

for wholeness,

for justice,

for truth,

for compassion,

and for love.

In this moment

the Son of Humanity, the Child of God,

gives voice to the longing

of all bodies,

all souls,

all daughters and sons of the Earth,

and all children of God.

I thirst.

6. When he took the wine, Jesus said, “It is finished.” And having bowed his head, he gave up his spirit. (John 19:30)

It is finished....

From the vantage point of the living

death's finality is felt

regardless of how it comes.

Whether we deem it a “good death,”

or wholly other than “good,”

or a death somewhere in between,

to be with another human being

in the moment of their death

is to stand on sacred ground.

In the face of such mystery one wonders:

Is it finished? Is this the end?

Is this an impenetrable barrier,

or is it a threshold

with the door held wide open for all?

I think of Jesus' mother, his disciples and friends, wondering:

Was it all for nothing?

Is it all finished?

Has evil won out over love?

Jesus had once given them a parable,

and like most of his parables it was simple,

and it smelled of the earth. He said to them,

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies,

it remains just a single grain.

But if it dies, it bears much fruit.

It is finished....

...finished, in the way that a seed is finished

when it falls into the ground and dies.

...finished, in the way that the wave is finished

when it climbs the shoreline and then returns the sea.

7. Jesus cried out with a loud voice saying, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” And having said this, he breathed his last. (Luke 23:46)

There have been moments

at the bedsides of the dying

when I have found myself

suspending my own breathing,

forgetting it for long periods.

The silence and stillness grows

in the spaces between

in-breath and out-breath.....

I hold my own,

and wait,

and watch

until the breath of the other is no more.

Luke describes Jesus' last breath

as a final act of offering.

It has not been taken from him

by the violence of others.

His spirit is his to commend

and his last breath is his to give

into the hands of God

with the prayer of the Garden

still resounding:

Not my will, but thy will be done...

Fear is now gone.

Betrayal has ended.

Evil holds no sway

in this final moment,

as the sacrament of the Christ-breath

is emptied out

and shared with the world.

The Earthquake

At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After the resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God's Son!” (Matthew 27:51-54)

Now, the stones cry out,

and the earth shakes,

at the death of a beloved child of God.

The words from the cross shudder downward

through fibers of try timber, enter the ground,

and dive deep into bedrock.

Creation screams its grief

at the desecration of life.

Perhaps with our muted and

atrophied senses we miss the signs

that are all around us,

signs of the earth's lament

when it must witness the suffering

and accept the blood of the innocent.

If we could attune ourselves

to the cry of the stones

we would hear their keening,

and perhaps something more.

For in this moment when all seems lost,

the earth itself makes an appeal:

The Word of Love will not be silenced.

It will revive and resound again and again!

The Light of Life will shine in the darkness,

and not even the darkness of death

will overcome it.

Such will be the cry of one great stone

that will roll from the mouth

of an empty tomb.