Good Friday 2010

FilCom and ERPC host a community-wide, ecumenical Good Friday "Seven Last Words of Jesus Christ" service each year. There are seven different preachers, and seven different musical groups - one for each word.

This year, I was the preacher for the Third Word, which is "Woman, behold your son... behold your mother." Kyle told us that we had 3-5 minutes to preach (and supposedly, I took about 8). I thought you might like to read my sermon, so I am posting it here.

FilCom Presbyterian Church
Good Friday – April 2, 2010
John 19:26-27

Imagine

Imagine that you are Mary, the Mother of Jesus.

Your son, you gift from God, is nailed. to. a. cross.

He’s done nothing worth this kind of torture and punishment. As you look up at his dying body, all of your memories come flooding back, and you can see him… playing with wood shavings from his father’s carpentry shop, working on his studies while sitting in the sun-filled doorway, spending time talking with the animals. You remember the time when you thought you’d lost him, when really, he was teaching in the temple. You look at the face of your beloved child and you feel every bit of pain and agony that he feels in this moment. You would move heaven and earth to spare him this torture.

You are beside yourself.

You look up at your beloved son’s face, and you see him looking down at you, looking right into your eyes.

He says, “Mom, look at my friend standing there next to you. He is your son now. He’ll take care of you.”




Imagine that you are the beloved disciple.

You met Jesus one day, and when he said “follow me,” you dropped everything and followed. You were with Jesus through his miracles, ministry, and travels. You’ve become very close to your dear friend – like family – and while you may not have understood everything he said and taught, you were still there… listening, learning, experiencing.

You were there yesterday when He told you and the others that he would be betrayed. You were there to share his last meal with him, knowing that it is significant, but not really sure just how significant. You were there when he was arrested, even though you’re not entirely sure what he did that was so wrong it warranted death on a cross.

You are standing next to his mother, looking up at your friend, dying on the cross, and you see that he is looking right at you.

He says, “My friend, look at my mom. I want you to take care of her. Help support her and care for her when I am gone.”




Imagine that you are Jesus.

You’ve been through a lot lately. At the beginning of this week, you rode into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey. People came out, shouting your name, yelling “HOSANNA,” waving palm branches, laying down their cloaks in front of you.

Yesterday, you celebrated the Passover with your friends in a borrowed room. You shared with them that this would happen, and you taught them how they were to remember you through the breaking of the bread and the drinking of the cup. You’ve been through your arrest, trial, scourging, and now this. You’re nailed to a cross; you can see the people below you.

And there in the crowd, two faces stand out from the rest. One has been with you throughout your ministry years, and one who has been with you through every part of your life and memory.

Your heart goes out to your mother as you look down at her and see the tears streaming down her face. You know that she will need someone to care for her once you are gone. Standing next to her is your dearest friend.

You look down at them, and you say: “Look, Mom. My dearest friend will be your son. Look my dear friend. Take care of my mom as if she were your own. I love you both.”