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Making our way back to God

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Holy days/feast: Good Friday of Our Lord's Passion Readings: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42 A FEW YEARS AGO a woman was standing outside a church in New York City, hesitating about whether to go inside. Her name was Elaine Pagels, and she was a brilliant historian at Princeton University. Though her specialty was the history of ancient Christianity, it had been years since she herself had gone to church. Now she was in a desperate frame of mind. Her young son lay in a hospital a few blocks away, just diagnosed with an incurable disease. As she listened to the music drift out of the church and heard the liturgy begin, she found herself drawn in. Writing about this moment in her book Beyond Belief, Pagels said that she was looking for a place to take her fears and grief. Inside the church, she thought, were people who knew “how to deal with death.” Is that right? Are Christians people who know how to deal with death? Not in the sense that we have knockdown answers to the questions and the terrors that it brings. When the diagnosis comes back with our name on it, when brutal injustice is done to us or our loved ones, our world is shattered like anyone else’s. What we have, instead of answers, is Jesus Christ. In him God was pleased to dwell, and in him God himself entered into the fear and the grief, the questions and the terrors of this life. THIS IS THE AMAZING, fearful, and saving story that is our gospel today. Fearful, for this reason: The anointed one of God, God’s beloved Son, did not escape suffering or death, did not escape injustice. As Isaiah says, he was “afflicted,” “pierced,” and “crushed.” But this fearful story is the saving word to us because of who Christ was and is. Because it was God, the creator of the universe, who entered completely into this man’s journey toward death, entered even into the silence of the tomb, then our journey down that same road has to be seen in a new way. Our journey to Good Friday, and through all the Good Friday experiences along the way, is not a journey away from God or a journey away from life but part of the mysterious journey back to God. Our journey to Good Friday, and through all the Good Friday experiences along the way, is not a journey away from God or a journey away from life but part of the mysterious journey back to God." This is why Jesus can say on the cross, in his final moment, “It is finished,” and mean by that not “It is over” but “It is accomplished.” What has been accomplished? The fragile gift of life has been handed back to God. The other gospel accounts tell us that Jesus used his moments on the cross to offer forgiveness to one of the men being executed beside him and to pray for those who were putting him to death. The Gospel of John, though, reports that after saying, “It is finished,” Jesus “gave up his spirit.” The Greek words for “gave up his spirit” are sometimes translated “he delivered his spirit” or “he handed over” his spirit. That reading would be consistent with what Jesus is doing in the Gospel of John. He is trustingly handing his life over—not to Pilate or to Caesar but back to God. Jesus hands his life back to God in a particular way: by first handing it on to others. In the last moments on the cross he hands Mary, his mother, and one of the disciples over to each other, creating a new family. He takes their grief and despair and turns it into the occasion for new relationships and new responsibilities. This act of handing our life back to God is not something we do only at the end of life. It is in the nature of everyday existence. We are always expending ourselves, exerting ourselves. The question is whether we are exerting ourselves only to preserve our life and shore up what we have and our illusions of our immortality. Or, trusting that God is with us in this fleeting life, are we handing on life to others? The One who went to the cross, who embraces our life from womb to tomb, calls us to follow him into the dark uncertainties of this world. In fellowship with Jesus Christ, we can live in a way that hands life back to God by handing it on to others. And then we wait.

Authors David Heim

holy day/feast Good Friday Isaiah 52:13-53:12 Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9 John 18:1-19:42

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Listen for the message

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Good Friday of the Lord's Passion Readings: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 31:2, 6, 12-13, 15-16, 17, 25; Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42 We have just walked with Jesus to his death. Why such suffering and pain? We know that somehow in Jesus’ death is our life, but why? We know it cannot be that one person of the Blessed Trinity would want another person of the Trinity to suffer. We know what scripture says: God is love. As much as we grieve the passion of Jesus, we come together today deeply moved by the horror of that first Good Friday and yet risk missing the point if that is all we see. I want to suggest what Jesus might be saying to us this Good Friday. First, our God is a God of reversals, a God who “flips the script.” Isaiah says the Lord’s will is accomplished in the “oppressed and condemned”: God’s purposes are somehow, even intimately, tied up with those who suffer—and die—forgotten. Second, our trust is—and only can be—in the Lord. We might be, as the psalm says, a laughingstock, shamed, “like the unremembered dead . . . like a dish that is broken.” But like Jesus, when we truly know who God is, there is simply no one else to whom we may commend our spirit. Third, mercy is ours. Jesus, God incarnate in human flesh, really knows our needs as human beings. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that God’s freely given love and grace is truly “timely help.” Consider what Jesus is telling us in the Passion through which we have just walked together. What a powerful, overwhelming gospel, including the dramatic changing of family relationships as John becomes Mary's adopted son in the midst of terrible suffering and death. But is that all we see? What does Jesus say as soon as he is found with his disciples? "I AM," he says. He says it with such authority that his captors “fall to the ground.” They know, as observant Jews, that I AM is the name for God, the name Moses heard revealed at the burning bush. And there’s more. Jesus tells Pilate that he came to the world to testify to the truth, and everyone who “belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” This is a truth that requires we do something—namely belonging and listening. Jesus tells Pilate that he came to the world to testify to the truth, and everyone who “belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” This is a truth that requires we do something—namely belonging and listening. Are we listening? Are our ears opened, truly listening that mercy is ours, and everyone’s, for the asking? Is our trust, like Jesus, really in the Lord, no matter the circumstances? Do we remember that God works somehow even—especially—in senseless deaths, deaths that appear to be quickly forgotten, when bodies are piled into dump trucks and buried in shallow pits by the thousands? Here, then, is what we have gathered to remember and celebrate today. Jesus, God-with-us, who took on our flesh through Mary’s “yes,” began his public witness with trust in God that he was to preach good news to the poor, freedom for prisoners, and—note this—recovery of sight for the blind. How can we be blind any longer, having seen Jesus suffer and die, having seen his witness to the truth to which we belong? Jesus, the messenger of God’s loving Reign that truly flips the script in favor of the last and least, even us sinners here today, is now revealed to be something more than a messenger. Jesus is the message of God, the perfect sacrament, the perfect sign who is exactly what he signifies: God’s love and grace. I AM, Jesus says. Let it thunder in our ears. Let us recover our hearing and our sight, seeing our lives and the world as Jesus would have us see them. As we enter into the mystery of these days, remember we are not here because Jesus died. We are here because he rose! God is working something new, Jesus is at the center of it all, and weare called to participate in the work of Jesus, in the unfinished and unfolding business of God's creation. Let us preach the Good News by our lives, doing our part to transform creation and all humanity, reflecting God’s love and mercy, putting our trust ultimately and only in God, knowing that only God is master of the script of our lives and of our universe. Let us do as Jesus did, and does, within God’s Reign among us now and God’s Reign that is coming in its fullness. May God bless you, your family, your friends, our community, and all the world in this holy time.

Authors Bryan Froehle

holy day/feast Good Friday Isaiah 52:13-53:12 Psalm 31:2, 6, 12-13, 15-16, 17, 25 Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9 John 18:1-19:42

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Today is different

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion Readings: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42 What a story in today’s gospel proclamation. If you had never heard of Jesus Christ before today, and it was the first time you listened to any part of his story, who would you think he was? If it were your first time in a gathering of his followers, who would you say Christians are? Today we were not greeted with “the Lord be with you,” we did not sing any songs to open our celebration, and even this sacred space speaks to us through its austere decoration. Today there is a somber mood, here, in our homes, and in our hearts. Today the world feels different. The disciples who accompanied Jesus as he crossed the small Kidron Valley must have also felt that Friday was also different. On the night before, gathered around the table, sharing bread and wine with Jesus and one another, they had realized that their world was going to change. They just did not know how that would be. But they didn’t have to wait long to find out. In the garden, overlooking the city of Jerusalem, their worst fears begin to materialize. Their whole world was falling apart, even their own group—with a traitor among them and a violent and bloody act by Peter—seemed to be breaking into pieces. From then on the events that changed their lives, and ours, appear to develop almost in a choreographed manner. Or perhaps that is because we know them by heart. With the passing of each of today’s tragic episodes the end gets clearer and clearer: Jesus’ execution and death. How could it be otherwise when those who mattered and those who had influence or were susceptible to influence seemed to be against him? When even your friends deny knowing you, you know things won’t end well. That day, however, was different—but for another reason. On that day the truth was spoken, fear did not get the upper hand, life was lived for its purpose, and promises were fulfilled. We can say that because we know that today’s events are part of a larger story; we know that “for the tomb was close by” are not the last words of the gospel. We know what neither the disciples nor those who sentenced him to die knew: that Jesus would rise from the dead. That day, however, was different—but for another reason. On that day the truth was spoken, fear did not get the upper hand, life was lived for its purpose, and promises were fulfilled. We can say that because we know that today’s events are part of a larger story; we know that “for the tomb was close by” are not the last words of the gospel. We know what neither the disciples nor those who sentenced him to die knew: that Jesus would rise from the dead. That is why there was no greeting today and why we won’t be dismissed at the end of the liturgy. Today’s celebration has neither a beginning nor an end but is instead part of a much larger story. We say we are celebrating the events of the Passion, but perhaps we could say we are celebrating “passionate events,” for this larger story of Jesus is the story of the truest and most powerful love. And those of us who have experienced love, who have passionately loved or been loved, know that suffering is an unavoidable companion of true love. But we are willing to be hurt and feel pain, not because suffering is good for its own sake—which it never is, and that’s why we seek to ease and eradicate suffering—but because the love that brings the pain overshadows it and overwhelms us. Today we can listen with wrenched hearts to the proclamation of the gospel and not feel defeated, abandoned, or afraid. We know the larger love story of Jesus that began when God himself became flesh and brought about the Reign of God precisely because God loves us. And Jesus responded to God as was intended, with a life of passionate service for the sake of justice, peace, and love. He could fearlessly say who he was because his entire life he faithfully lived it according to God’s overflowing love, accepting thereby the suffering that comes with such passionate love. Were some people not to know “the rest of the story” they would not understand why we can rejoice in such a somber environment, why we seek to imitate a pain-ridden Jesus, why we kiss an instrument of death. But we do so because when we see the stripped altar, when we proclaim our faith in Christ—the suffering servant—and lift and venerate the cross, we know how the story ends: in the same way in which it began, with a love that conquers all, even the greatest of sufferings, death itself. And we embrace the cross, we lift it high and we reverence it, for it is a symbol not of death but of the new life gained for us by the Risen Christ. And for that, at the sight of the cross, we can joyfully and in gratitude proclaim: “Come, let us adore.”

Authors Santiago Cortés-Sjöberg

holy day/feast Good Friday Isaiah 52:13-53:12 Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9 John 18:1-19:42

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Imperfect Peter

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Good Friday of the Lord's Passion Readings: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42 Saint Peter has always been my favorite figure in the Bible. To me he is the most relatable. He is so earnest, so flawed, so very human. He tries hard to do right but then misunderstands, fails, succumbs to weakness—and keeps on trying. There's something likably bumbling about Peter. Like the time he tries to walk on water with Jesus. As soon as he leaps out of the boat, he gets scared and starts to sink. Jesus rescues him and chides him for his lack of faith. Peter is hasty, impetuous, rash. When he hears that Jesus' tomb is empty, he sprints there to see for himself. He doesn't peek with hesitation at the entrance; he goes straight inside to find the discarded burial clothes. Peter speaks and acts before he thinks, and he often looks foolish. In yesterday's gospel he refuses to let Jesus wash his feet—until Jesus corrects him, that is, and then Peter goes overboard and wants Jesus to wash his head and hands, too. And again, Jesus corrects him. In today's gospel Peter makes his biggest mistakes yet, and his actions are in direct contrast to those of Jesus. When Jesus is about to be arrested, he surrenders; Peter fights. When guards of the high priest say they are looking for Jesus the Nazorean, Jesus says, "I AM"; when servants of the high priest ask Peter if he is one of Jesus' disciples, he says, "I am not." Judas may be the consummate villain here, but Peter is the ambiguous foil and the one from whom we have to learn. Despite his shortcomings Peter doesn't give up on himself as a disciple of Christ, and that takes courage. People often quit if they can't do something perfectly—or they don't bother trying at all—but not Peter. It takes strength to fail, forgive oneself, and persevere. That's certainly one of the attributes Jesus must have recognized in him or he wouldn't have named him the rock on which to build his church. Despite his shortcomings Peter doesn't give up on himself as a disciple of Christ, and that takes courage. People often quit if they can't do something perfectly—or they don't bother trying at all—but not Peter. It takes strength to fail, forgive oneself, and persevere. It was Peter, after all—direct, outspoken Peter—who definitively answered Jesus' question: "Who do you say that I am?" Peter responded: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." This question is bandied about throughout today's gospel. Ironically it is Pilate who refers to Jesus as a king more times than anyone—because he needs to trump up a treasonable offense to execute him for—and then inscribes it on his cross, the wording of which the chief priests find objectionable. Jesus asks Pilate a very similarly worded question as the one he posed to Peter: "Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?" But unlike Peter, Pilate deflects the question with another question. When Jesus speaks of truth, Pilate says, "What is truth?" Such a sad, cynical response, rife with alienation. Everyone in this stressful, dramatic situation is wishy-washy, weak and cowardly, squabbling like children, evading responsibility, hiding who they are, reacting emotionally and erratically—except Jesus, the one with the most to lose, whose behavior is the exact opposite. He acknowledges his identity, looks out for others by asking the guards to let his disciples go free and entrusting his mother to his friend, and responds to his accusers openly and honestly—even boldly because he is in the right. But most importantly, he submits: to the soldiers, Annas, Caiaphas, and Pilate; to rejection, public humiliation, suffering, and death. His submission isn't weakness; it's strength. Pilate says he has power over him, but Jesus tells him he doesn't. His kingdom is not of this world. His existence is purposeful—"for this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth"; his submission to the suffering of this world is a choice. God chose to take on the mantle of humanity, along with all its accompanying vulnerability, to sympathize with our weaknesses, to be tested in every way that we are. "In the days when Christ was in the flesh . . . when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him." You can be imperfect Peter—and know that God, though perfect, understands. You can be imperfect Peter and belong to the truth and be saved.

Authors Jennifer Tomshack

holy day/feast Good Friday Isaiah 52:13-53:12 Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9 John 18:1-19:42

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