On this sorrowful day, we
remember the suffering that results from great love and compassionate concern
for the world. The Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53 is one who takes on the
world’s sorrows out of humility. Although Jewish thought attributes the nation
of Israel with this role of “servant” throughout Isaiah’s writings, Christians
traditionally attribute these servant songs to Jesus. In either case, a message
emerges that is profound and troubling. Innocent people suffer in our world.
One who would be a light to
the nations has his life snuffed out due to an unjust and torturous world. This
is the sorrow of Good Friday. This has been the sorrow of Jewish communities
who have suffered under pogroms throughout history and in recent history in the
Holocaust. It has also been the sorrow— and continues to be the sorrow— of
oppressed peoples and individuals who strive for justice, advocate for peace,
and live radically compassionate love and mercy. Jesus is not the only one who
bears our infirmities. This is a day to remember the suffering people whom
Jesus represents in his innocence, his compassion, and his prophetic courage:
peacemakers; justice-seekers; and innocent children suffering in poverty, war,
or abuse are just a few of the many suffering servants who bear our iniquities.
Thinking about the suffering
servant in this way challenges the quiet contemplation of this day. What if the
sin that the servant bears for me is the sin of my consumerism borne by a child
labouring in a factory? What if my iniquity of prejudice is borne by the
political activist imprisoned for her advocacy work? Where am I the darkness
that overcomes the light? When have I pierced God’s love with cruelty and even
hate? These are the hard questions of Good Friday.
Jesus lived a life of
compassion and love. He healed, touched, and wept. And in the end, Jesus
declares the sermon of his life complete, finished, done. He was not simply
fulfilling a duty or completing a list of requirements for God’s will to be
accomplished on earth. Jesus’ life changed the tide of time. Jesus’ declaration
on the cross expressed the bird’s-eye view that the winds have finally changed.
It has been finished. And
bowing his head, he gave up his spirit. He bowed his head, an act in some cultures as acknowledgment, reverence, respect. Where we might shake hands, nod, kiss on the cheek, a bowed head is an elegant gesture of recognition.
bowing his head, he gave up his spirit. He bowed his head, an act in some cultures as acknowledgment, reverence, respect. Where we might shake hands, nod, kiss on the cheek, a bowed head is an elegant gesture of recognition.
Jesus’ sermon, his life’s
performance, was finished. And, bowing the head, he gave up the spirit. It’s
quite like the end of a breathtaking performance, Jesus drops his baton, and
yields the winds of change to those who were paying attention. The proverbial
music has stopped on the cross, the pregnant pause has entered, and as Jesus
senses the pause, he says, “It has been finished.” He bows in recognition, puts
down the baton, and in faithful surrender, releases new life riding on the
winds of change. Just as those long ago, we spend this weekend in the
proverbial pregnant pause. When we wake on Easter Sunday, what will our proverbial
applause be?
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