Good Friday in a Coronavirus World

photo by Christopher Brown / flikr

It is Good Friday and we come to the last word that came down from the cross. John said it best: “When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished’. Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”

I wonder what his disciples felt listening to this last word. Three years they had followed him. What a journey it was. Seeing miracles, hearing his tenderness, his decent goodness toward all. His rage in the temple when he threw out the greedy money changers. Then the Upper Room and how Jesus washed their feet. And there was wine and bread.  And then there were high hopes as he came into Jerusalem amid palm branches and hallelujahs. And yet the crowds dwindled away. The soldiers came and dragged him into Pilate’s court and they beat him and mocked him and stripped him naked. And then the crowd had yelled, “Crucify him…” And at the end his followers‘ hopes and dreams faded away when he said with a loud voice “It is finished.” How they must have felt.  

I think Fred Craddock captured the emotions of those disciples that stood at the foot of the cross. He told about living in Oklahoma in a tiny place called Kingfisher. And that little town published a paper about every week. One of the articles was written by an Arapahoe Indian woman. She called herself in English Molly Shepherd. Every week she wrote and Craddock said he looked forward to what she had to say. She wrote in broken English and told about all sorts of things.Tribal customs, native songs, and Indian funerals and prizes to those who came the farthest for the funerals. Craddock said Molly had a gift for words and often they were as poetic as the way she talked. 

One of Molly’s articles was very brief. It was the afternoon paper following the death of President Kennedy. That day she wrote, “Molly has no words for you today. Molly has nothing to write about. Molly goes through the house all day saying’” Oh…Oh…Oh.”

The disciples must have felt that way as they moved slowly away from that hill. Jesus had said,“It is finished” and that was the end. Their words must have been much like Molly’s. No words, really. Just Oh…Oh…Oh.”

Isn’t this where we are this Good Friday. Across the world the grief is heavy and we cannot put them into words. Those who’ve died and their families. Those medical folks exhausted in hospitals. Those still suffering and so many thousands wondering if they will recover from their dreadful diagnosis. Family members looking through plate glass windows at their loved ones and friends they cannot talk to or touch. There are few funerals and the little handful that come stand apart from each other. There are no words to express how they they/we feel. We think of all those that have lost their jobs and have so little if anything. Those who had too close their businesses. All those who have lost so much in the stock market. All of us really—wearing masks and gloves and standing apart. And Oh…oh…Oh…is really the way we feel too. 

This is not the end of the story in the gospels.Not at all. But today it seems like the end of so much that seemed so settled. No words…no words. And tomorrow the believers would call it Dark Saturday. That darkness seemed to express it all. Oh, we know how the story ends. Jesus said, It is finished. Not I am finished. It is finished.  

God did not take away the cross and the blood that terrible day at Calvary. But he did say: “I can’t stop your suffering but I am with you in it.”Could it mean that today with all the fear, pain and incredible sorrow there may not be words to express where we are.

Only later when they pieced that story together did they remember that Jesus died with a great shout. This was not the word of a defeated man. They would discover that shout was a word of victory: tetelestai. Not until later could they begin to unpack what that word meant not defeat but victory. Tetelestai!

And standing here on thiS strange Good Friday we must know that “It is finished” is not the last word. But it seems so. The story said yet to come was Dark Saturday and fear and tears and grief so strong they could not put them into words. Nor can we. Little did they know there would be weeping women in a garden and an Open Tomb and Simon running away shaking his head knowing that “He is risen” could not possibly be true. Little did they know there would be a road to Emmaus and much later Paul’s shining words: Nothing can separate us from the love of God…No thing. 

This is Good Friday. Little did they know that day was not the end of the story. For them and for us too. Much later in another hard time someone looking back would say: “Weeping may last for a night but joy will come in the morning.” Is it any wonder we call this day Good Friday. Even in a time of a coronavirus. Even in our time of a coronavirus.

photo by Daniela Munoz-Santos / flikr

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com