Hope in the Darkness

Scripture:

Matthew 26:69-75 (referencing much of the rest of the passion narrative as well)

Preached  04/17/2014: Maundy Thursday

Shared worship with Affton Presbyterian and Calvary Presbyterian

Tenebrae- a service of darkness.  We gather together tonight to worship, in the darkness.  And things are certainly looking pretty dark for Jesus right about now.  He knows he is going to die soon, and he’s deeply grieved.  He’s begged his friends to stay awake, and they’ve fallen asleep on him.  One of the twelve closest to him has already betrayed him, he’s been arrested, and now, with the cock crowing, though Jesus didn’t hear the words, Peter has denied him three times, as Jesus foretold.  And things are only going to get darker from here.

We too, sit in a growing darkness, as candles are extinguished and lights are dimmed.  Perhaps like Jesus, we know all too well that this story leads to beatings, torture, and death.  And perhaps like Jesus, we too are deeply grieved by what is coming, and hope, and wish, and pray that this cup of impending death could be removed from our savior’s hands.  I’ll admit that most years I join with Peter, and I weep bitterly as Jesus, my teacher, my example, my beloved, heads towards Calvary to hang and die.

And yet, I also join with Peter when he says that he does not know this man Jesus.  If we’re honest, we all do.  Peter wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know Jesus, and neither are we.  Because very honestly, none of us can truly know Jesus.  None of us can comprehend who this man actually is.  He is is somehow God who came to earth to be born in a dirty stable, teach and heal on dusty roads, and then die, on a rough and humiliating cross. He is somehow fully God and fully human at the same time.  He is somehow both eternal and about to die, powerful beyond all measure and yet praying for this death that does happen to be stopped.  None of us know this man.  

But he knows us.  He knows what it is like to be tired, to be hungry, to thirst, to feel joy, and pain, and despair. He knows what it is like to be a child, dependent on others.  He knows what it is like to love and to be loved.  He knows what it is like to sit in a place of worship, to eat meals with friends, and to have those closest to you die, or betray you.  He even knows what it is to fear death, and to feel abandoned by God. And he even knows, and is about to know, what it is like to die.

Tonight we attempt to walk with Jesus through these last days and moments of his earthly life in what are only a few short minutes.  And much like those disciples who tried and failed to stay awake, we will try and fail to stay beside Jesus the whole time, to experience what he experiences and to feel what he feels and to know what he knows.  And perhaps we will want with every fiber of our being to stop that crucifixion that is coming, and there, too, we will fail.

The cross will not stay empty, and none of us can take Jesus place on it.  And like those women who followed as much as they could until the very end, we will stand, watching from afar.  And yet Jesus will not leave us.  Not in his trial, his beatings, his torture, or his death.  He will stay, always, even if we don’t know who it is who stays with us.  He will stay with us, walk with us, cry with us, and find solace with us.  Because no matter how much we fail him, he knows us, and somehow, he still loves us.  The darkness is growing.  But no matter how dark it gets, we are not alone.  So Lord, forgive us for our failings and ignorance.  But for Jesus, who never abandons us even in our darkest hours, thanks be to God.