John 19:1-16 · Jesus Sentenced to be Crucified
Good Friday
John 18:1-19:42
Sermon
by Kendall McCabe
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After this solemn reading of the passion narrative, one stands uncertainly to preach, because surely the power of the story itself moves us by its very rehearsal. It touches each of us at a point unique to ourselves, in this hour of our particular need as we hear it again.

But someone may be asking why do we do this twice in one week. It was only this past Sunday we heard the whole passion narrative according to Matthew, and now today we come to hear John tell it all over again! But it isn't the same story, is it? I'll leave it to you to go home and separate out the details between the two. The point is that just as we each hear the story speak to us in relation to the needs we bring today, so the Gospel writers recorded it in terms of what was important to them and the people to whom they were writing.

We can be thankful for that, because we are given in consequence not one picture of Christ, but a picture taken, as it were, from four angles. The same person, but the emphasis will vary. Matthew wants us to see a new Moses, leading his people from the slavery of sin into the promised land of new life through the wilderness of Golgotha and the tomb. Mark portrays a Christ whose life is characterized by lordly deeds, none of which can be understood without the knowledge of his greatest deed, his death on the cross. Luke tells of a man who sides with the poor and the outcast, even to the point of carrying a thief with him into paradise. And John, whom we have just heard, shows us the one who lived in mysterious unbroken communication with his Father and lived a kingly, priestly life in the midst of common things.

There seems to be one common trait shared by all the writers who have sent this story to us; they are all overwhelmed at Christ's capacity for suffering and for tragedy. John today brings the point clearly home when he has Jesus say to Pilate, "You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above." In other words, Jesus was in charge of his own fate, and he chose the way of suffering and death to finish the work he had come to do. Earlier Jesus had said to the disciples, "No one takes (my life) from me, but I lay it down of my own accord." (John 10:18) Christ had a capacity for tragedy.

There are many people who know of, or know about, the experience of tragedy. We don't need Shakespeare to tell us about it. Life takes more out of some than it demands of others. The difficult edge of things cuts into their lives. The unwelcome, the disturbing, visits them. They know the menace and injury of simply existing from day to day. It is to our shame if we forget this fact of life and those who live with its scalding tears. God save us from a merely theoretical interest in the monumental tragedies brought nightly into our homes on the TV news or in the personal ones of the people down the street.

Experience of tragedy is one thing; a capacity for tragedy is another, a difficult thing.

So it was with Christ. Our Gospel is the Gospel of the burdened Christ, never the embittered Christ. The life of Jesus Christ is action upon and action with the tragic. Suffering becomes the field of his force. The cross, which the world intended to destroy him, is returned to the world as a sign of the redemption which he has achieved.

We need to face the fact of Christ's determination to die and be careful lest we foolishly sentimentalize this occasion. We are not being asked to shake our heads and say, "What a pity. He was so young. Think what he might have done had he been spared." It is true we cannot ignore the cost in pain and agony he paid, but the whole truth of the cross is not contained only in the nails and the thorns and the excruciating thirst. The whole truth is he went willingly, not grudgingly. Surely Christ wants us to see this in him, that he is able to be whatever the miseries of this world call for. "You would have no power over me unless it were given to you." Jesus was a man of sorrows, yes, but he was a man with a satisfying sense of his own destiny and his ability to meet and overcome the power of evil, sin, and death.

With his capacity for tragedy, Jesus comes with power into the tragedies of the lives of others. There are sore places to which the human heart comes and in which it may have to stay for a long, long time. We have all dwelt in some of them if we have lived very long at all. But the good news is Christ has power to enter those places defensively. He can bring us breathing space when we think we are making our last gasp. He can share with his people the very energies by which he overcame on that fateful Friday long ago, and our lives will bear fruit in the desert, for he has proven himself to be the Lord of desperate moments. There are people in this congregation who have been confronted by darkness, plain people who make no boastful claims about their spirituality, and they are given light day by day because that is the nature of the Christ who conquers from a cross.

The life of Christ is, then, a constant source of recovery and restoration. He makes a life controlled by love not only real, but attractive. As we stand beneath his cross today that sacrifice will call us back from our inferior and grudging ways, making us ashamed of our narrow idealisms and urging us to occupy the larger spaces of Christian freedom and divine dependence.

We can discover, in Christ, the safeguard God has given us against those times when we are tempted to find reasons for staying where we are, for proceeding no further. As Christ has gone before us through the grave, so now he goes before us as the supreme example of faithfulness and the joy it brings. He goes before us with the power to draw us after him. With power for the difficult thing - and with that power, the ability to become in and through us, his baptized people, a preserving and transforming presence in the world.

He is the lonely greatness of the world, -
(His eyes are dim),
His power it is holds up the Cross
That holds up Him.

He takes the sorrow of the threefold hour -
(His eyelids close)
Round Him, and round: the wind - His Spirit - where
It listeth blows.

And so the wounded greatness of the world
In silence lies -
And death is shattered by the light from out
Those darkened eyes.

CSS Publishing Company, Path of the Phoenix, by Kendall McCabe