It was the last week of July 2013. An ultramodern, high speed passenger train neared the end of a six-hour trip from Madrid to the northwest Spanish city of Ferrol. The train entered a long, steep curve on the outskirts of Santiago de Compostela. Those of us watching the slow motion security camera video realized immediately that this was not going to end well. The train was traveling 120 miles per hour, more than twice the speed limit. About half-way through the curve, a passenger car in the middle of the train began to float off the tracks and drift toward a high concrete, retaining wall. The cars hooked to that errant carriage followed. In a matter of seconds, all of the train’s cars were tossed about like so many trash cans in a high wind. Seventy-nine people were killed and 140 were injured.
Every television news program played that video over and over again. It was obvious that from the moment the train started to leave the tracks there was nothing that could be done to avoid the death, destruction, and utter chaos that ensued. Needless to say, there was not an on-time arrival that day in Ferrol, the scheduled destination. Plans were tragically interrupted when the train derailed.
There is a sense in which that is one of the underlying themes in the gospel reading for this Good Friday. John 18:1—19:42 is very long — two full chapters; more than 2,000 words; nearly 10% of the entire gospel of John. It covers events from the betrayal of Jesus by Judas Iscariot in the Garden of Gethsemane to our Lord’s interrogation by the high priest to his trial by the Roman governor to his torment at the hands of Roman soldiers to his suffering on the cross to his death and his burial in a garden tomb.
This reading touches on much of what is at the heart of the gospel. Because of its length, we are not going to take the twenty minutes required to read it all aloud. Instead, it is recommended that sometime between now and when you worship on Easter Sunday you read these two chapters as a personal or family devotional. It will be a meaningful spiritual preparation for the glory of Resurrection Sunday.
It is also recommended that as you read you watch for two things. First, notice how John organizes his narrative to demonstrate circumstances going from bad to worse to tragic. Chapter 18 opens in the Garden of Gethsemane when Judas Iscariot made good on his plan to betray Jesus. Judas, the apostolic business administrator, led a gaggle of temple priests, Pharisees, and armed guards from the religion police to the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus has gone to pray. The police tried to arrest Jesus. Simon Peter, another of the leading apostles, reacted violently. He took out a knife and cut off the ear of the high priest’s slave.
The armed religion police were not deterred by Peter brandishing a deadly weapon. They put Jesus under arrest and took him to be questioned by the high priest. While that interrogation happened in the temple courtyard, Peter waited outside on the street. It was a cold night. A bonfire was built for warmth. Peter joined a group of strangers close to the fire. A few in the crowd thought they recognized Peter. They asked him if he was one of Jesus’ followers. Peter denied even knowing the man.
Take note: Judas Iscariot, one of Jesus’ closest followers betrayed him to the religion authorities. This was immediately followed by Peter, another in Jesus’ inner circle, resorting to bloody violence before denying he was even acquainted with Jesus. Things were not off to a good start.
The interview with the religious authorities went surprisingly well. Even though Jesus took a punch in the face for what was assessed as being disrespectful to the high priest, he made a solid case that he was not guilty of the crime of blasphemy — false religious teaching.
At that point, the religious authorities could have set him free, but they did not. Instead they took Jesus to the secular authority, Pontius Pilate, and told the Roman governor that Jesus had been preaching that he was the king of the Jews. They intended this to be heard as an accusation of treason, a crime against the state.
Jesus’ situation had just gotten much more perilous. Rome was tolerant of many things, but treason was not one of them. Anyone guilty of undermining Rome’s political authority was likely to meet a swift, cruel death.
It was a surprise when the initial interview with Pontius Pilate went rather well. Pilate had a conversation with Jesus and concluded there was not a case for the charge of treason. Pilate actually went so far as to propose a way to set Jesus free. The Roman governor pointed out that he had a custom of releasing a prisoner as his contribution to the celebration of the Jewish Passover. Pilate offered to release the one they called “King of the Jews.”
At this point, one gets the impression this story just might have a happy ending. But that was not to be. The crowd responded to Pilate’s offer of freedom for Jesus by shouting “Give us Barabbas!” Jesus was then condemned to death.
We know where this is headed. Under the regular procedures of Roman occupation, executions were not delayed. There was not a higher court of appeal. Our Lord was headed toward suffering and inevitable death.
Between Friday and Sunday morning, remember to read John 18-19. Take note of how events unfolded in a way similar to what happened on that sharp curve in the tracks approaching Santiago de Compostela. From Jesus’ arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane on Thursday evening to late Friday afternoon at the place for Roman execution, this was a train wreck in the making. Nothing was going to prevent this disaster. Things were coming off the tracks.
Second, as you read, take note of the demeanor of Jesus. In spite of facing inevitable suffering and death, Jesus was remarkably calm and composed. While this is true in the other gospels, it is even truer in John. The fourth gospel presented Jesus as in such control of his emotions and behavior it was almost as though he was choreographing the events leading to his death. For instance, John insisted that Jesus needed no help to carry his cross. Unlike the other gospels, in John, Simon of Cyrene is not pressed to assist. Jesus carries his own cross. He was in control.
In the synoptic gospels, Jesus prayed that this cup would pass from him. To state that differently, he prayed: “Lord, if it is all the same to you, I would just as soon not suffer and die under these circumstances.” In John, Jesus did not even consider the possibility of a reprieve. Instead he expressed his willingness to face what was coming and asked a rhetorical question. “Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” (18:11).
Jesus had so much self-control that in the gospel of John, he even decided the moment of his death. “When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit” (19:30).
More than in the other gospels, John portrayed Jesus as an island of calm resolve in a storm that swirled around him. He was a profile in profound courage even as events went from bad to worse to tragic.
We are not, of course, privy to all the events that led up to Good Friday. On the other hand, there is a certain commonality of human experience over the centuries. For that reason, I think it safe to assume that there was some sort of committee meeting before Jesus and his apostles left on that fateful journey from Judea in the north to the capitol city in the south. Assuming there was such a meeting, Jesus must have said something like, “Fellows, we are going to Jerusalem again. Pack carefully because I cannot promise when or, for that matter, even if you will be coming back.”
After that, the apostle Thomas, a man known for doubting and questioning, may have thought to himself, “Oh, I don’t believe that. We will be back. If anyone asks me where we are going, I will tell them, ‘We are going to Jerusalem for the Passover. I expect to have a great time with Jesus and my other friends. I also expect to be back in a couple weeks. In fact, let’s plan to meet on the steps of the old synagogue in Capernaum, on the shore of Lake Galilee.’ ”
As it turned out, that journey was not round-trip. The itinerary was one-way from Judea to Jerusalem to Golgotha and death.
About a hundred years ago, a young Carl Sandburg, the American poet whose work I suspect all of us tasted in high school, if not since, penned a short work on this theme that in spite of what any of us think or claim, death is the destination we have in common. Sandburg wrote:
I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand people.
(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the men and women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall pass to ashes.)
I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he answers: “Omaha.”1
We might think we are on the way to Omaha or Disneyland. We might claim we are on the way to riches or success. In fact, all of us in the diners and sleepers are headed for ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
For Jesus, the train came off the tracks that Friday. Death was inevitable. Nothing was going to rescue him. It is a sad and tragic story. It does not, however, end with suffering and death. Sunday is coming. Amen.
1. Carl Sandburg, Chicago Poems, “Limited” (Henry Hold and Company, 1916), Poem #35, public domain.