Today is one of those “knee jerks” of a day liturgically, where we start out the morning on a celebratory note proclaiming Jesus as our King and waving our palm branches, commemorating Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. And then our liturgy switches abruptly on us half way through, as we move into the reading of the Passion and Jesus’ arrest, trial, crucifixion and death, carrying us right into the depths and heart of Holy Week, the holiest and most somber week of Lent and the Christian year. And while these two events, the triumphal entry and the crucifixion might feel unrelated, they are actually entirely intertwined, because it is Jesus’ triumphal entry that finally marks him as a troublemaker, as someone guilty of the final charge against him: high treason. Jesus was actually riding into Jerusalem, not so much a triumphant king, but like a lamb to the slaughter. And this was the only time he allowed himself to be publically proclaimed as the King and Messiah. Yet Jesus knows that this event will seal his fate and swiftly lead to his death: in fact, now all the ammunition needed to accuse and ultimately execute Jesus is in place.
It is actually impossible for us to begin to imagine the amount of suffering that takes place in a very short amount of time in this one week, starting with Palm Sunday and ending on Good Friday. But it is not difficult to hear just how much Jesus was suffering when we listen to his words from the cross when says, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Here Jesus reveals his humanity and human nature fully, voicing and feeling every bit as forsaken and abandoned by God as is possible. In fact, his frail humanity is so clear in this tragic moment, that many are uncomfortable with these words and in most of the classic Jesus movies, this line is actually removed or never uttered on the cross….it’s almost as if it’s too difficult to admit what Jesus was dealing with to include it. Instead of skipping it however, I want us to focus on those very words today: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Have you ever felt forsaken or abandoned by God? At some point, I now most of us will and I know that I have at many times. One of the key moments in my life, a time that I felt abandoned by God was actually while I was in labor with Charlotte in 2005. It was one of those horror stories that happen much too often in labor, but far from being a mere cliché, it was a nightmare I would not wish on anyone. Charlotte was 2 weeks over due and my OBGYN was nervous and wanted to induce labor with a drug called pitocin. Pitocin, in my mind, is a truly terrible drug, and it rolls off my tongue almost like a curse word because of my experience with it. Pitocin forces the body into labor, but it does it in a much more cruel way than the body does naturally: the contractions are much, much stronger and come much more quickly with pitocin than our bodies would have us do naturally. And I happened to be one of the unlucky few for whom pitocin just wouldn’t work until it was at a dose much higher than I could tolerate, and sent me into what they call “transition,” the final and worst part of labor, before my body was ready to give birth, for many hours. Suffice it to say that the pain that went far beyond my imagining . When those contractions hit, I was decimated… over and over again. I was refused pain medication because, as the nurse described it, I was not “progressing appropriately”…whatever that might mean. The pain was so bad that I was totally beyond the screaming and yelling type pain, I couldn’t even make a sound or speak aloud at all. And it turned out that those maximum contractions were so overpowering and lasted for so long that they actually cut off oxygen to poor Charlotte, and she was in grave danger for quite some time during the labor and right after the delivery due to severe a lack of it. In those long hours of the night, I truly believed we were dying, that both she and I would never survive and I was actually readying myself for death. Added to that was the the fact that God seemed totally absent to me in those hours. In fact, I felt as though I was being punished with some kind of hellish torment that would end in death, and my mind could make no sense of it. I was truly out of my mind in those hours, but I felt sure that I had been abandoned by any kind of loving God I had ever known. God didn’t seem to be anywhere in that Ohio hospital room at 3am.
Well, Jesus not only experienced tremendous amounts of physical pain, far worse than you or I can imagine, but also the spiritual pain of feeling abandoned by God. Add to that the emotional pain he endured because his suffering was public and he was mocked and tormented by the very people watching it. (I mean, at least the doctors and nurses weren’t actively spitting on me and ridiculing me during labor! Can you imagine?)
And Jesus had four groups of accusers who mocked him: the passers-by who shook their heads, which was a Middle Eastern gesture of derision, the religious leaders who taunted him by saying if he really was the Son of God, he would save himself, the “bandits” who were being crucified along with him who told him to get off the cross if he really was the Son of God, and finally, those who crucified him, who spit on him and further tortured him. In his most vulnerable and horrific hours, Jesus was rejected and despised by everyone around him. The people had abandoned Jesus and so, it seemed, had God.
The words, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” are spoken by Jesus n Aramaic, which was the language Jesus spoke all the time. They also form the first line of Psalm 22, the Psalm we recite during the powerful Maundy Thursday service at the stripping of the altar. Jesus would have had the whole Psalm memorized and he would have known that it is about a righteous sufferer who feels abandoned in his pain, but ultimately ends on a note of trust. Still, the pain and feeling of abandonment was real for Jesus.
When we feel abandoned by God in life, maybe all we can do is say with Jesus, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And in doing so, maybe we will be prompted to remember the end of the story, and not lose all hope.
After Jesus breathes his last and dies, the “curtain of the temple” was torn in two. This curtain, known as the “veil” was made of fine linen and was inside the Holy of Holies, which was God’s special dwelling place among the people. During the Israelites’ wanderings in the wilderness, God appeared as a pillar of cloud of fire in and above the Holy of Holies. There were figures of cherubim, angels who serve God and were in the presence of God, embroidered onto the curtain. Only the High Priest could pass into the Holy of Holies and only once a year, on the Day of Atonement, and only after a long list of preparations, which included shielding his eyes. When that temple curtain tore, it was symbolic that the division between God and humanity had been removed in Jesus, and wenow had open access to God.
After the temple tore, the earth shook and rocks split, opening many tombs of the saints, those honored dead in Jewish tradition. The point of these descriptions is not to invoke fear, but to show us that Jesus’ death brings life. Even before we get to the Easter resurrection, we see Jesus’ horrific suffering and death bringing about new life, and we see clear evidence that God had not abandoned Jesus at all, but was present in the ultimate act of loving redemption.
Now, you and I know the end of this story, but we’ll save that for Easter. And I’m sure you can guess the end of my labor story if you’ve ever met my dear Charlotte. But please be assured, as we enter into this holiest of holy weeks together, that you are not alone in feeling abandoned at times, even Jesus felt that way in his lifetime, and know that God is with you in all your pain, fear, and suffering. You are never alone. And suffering is NOT the end of the story. To be continued….
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