O Sacred Head: Good Friday, April 3, 2015
Crown of Thorns - from northern Germany, anonymous
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GatheringWelcome to Seattle First Baptist's On Line Good Friday service. This collection of scripture, art, music and words guides you through the final day of Jesus' life.
Artists throughout history have focused on the story of Good Friday, the Passion of Christ. But they often do not handle the topic as ancient history. The figures in the paintings and the voices in the music are not those of ancient residents of the Middle East, but of the artist’s own time and place. Perhaps this is because in the Passion artists find their own stories, and the ongoing story of humanity. Good Friday did not bring an end to suffering and death, which certainly continue today. We are not strangers to betrayal, or struggles with guilt and innocence, or mocking and beating. We all die. We all grieve. The Passion remains our story too. Following is a version of the story of Good Friday, told through scripture, music, paintings, and meditations. We suggest that you move through this service in order, contemplating each section as a unit. Like the artists, you may find part of our own story here. |
Betrayed and DeniedWhile Jesus was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, came up accompanied by a crowd carrying swords and clubs; they had been sent by the chief priests, the religious scholars and the elders. The betrayer had arranged this signal for them: "Whomever I embrace is the one; arrest him and take him away under guard." Judas went directly to Jesus, embraced him and said, "Rabbi!" At this, they laid hands on Jesus and arrested him ... With that, all the disciples deserted Jesus and fled.
... While Peter was down in the courtyard, one of the attendants of the high priest came along. When she noticed Peter seated near the fire, she looked more closely at him and said, "You too were with Jesus of Nazareth." Peter said, "I don't know what you're talking about! What do you mean?" O sacred head betrayed there, abandoned by your friends.
Arrested, bound and beaten, then driven to your end. Lo, here I fall, my Savior! For I deserve your place. Look on me with your favor, and keep me in your grace. |
Kiss of Judas (1304–06), fresco by Giotto, Scrovegni Chapel, Padua, Italy
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Meditation
Have you ever been betrayed by someone? Have you been the betrayer? Has a friend ever denied that he knew you? Have you ever denied knowing someone? My own experience leads me to believe that betrayal and denial are fairly universal to the human condition. We all are capable of being a betrayer or the one betrayed, a denier or the one denied.
My thoughts on betrayal and denial have been strongly influenced by music. I first heard the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar as a teenager, and was drawn to the way it humanized Judas, the disciple who betrayed Jesus. In the same work, Peter justified his denial of Jesus by claiming he did it in order to save himself. As set in Superstar, both characters seemed more understandable, more believable to me.
But a much older masterwork has had a larger impact on me, St. Matthew Passion by J.S. Bach. I first was exposed to Bach’s Passion a number of years ago when we performed the work here at Seattle First Baptist Church. It tells the story of the last few days of Jesus’ life, as related in the Gospel according to Matthew. Singers play all the parts in the action. As a member of the chorus I got to play many different roles.
We choristers played the Scribes and Pharisees, seeking to destroy Jesus without inflaming the people. We sang the words of Judas scolding the woman who anointed Jesus with expensive ointment. We were the angry mob before Pilate, demanding that Jesus be crucified and that Barabbas be released instead.
But at other times we became helpless observers, those who saw what was happening and asked why. We began the work by singing “Come, ye daughters, share my wailing.” We rebuked Jesus unfaithful friends with “O man, thy grievous sins bemoan!” As Jesus died, we sang about our own mortality with “When comes my hour of parting, do not Thou part from me.” Finally, we closed the work with a heart-wrenching “Here at thy grave sit we all weeping, and call Thee as in grief we weep: Sleep Thou sweetly, sweetly sleep!”
I recall getting choked up at times while singing the Passion. To this day I cannot sit through the work without literally weeping. The music is so stirring, and the themes feel so universal that it seems impossible not to find myself among the cast of characters.
Betrayed. Denied. So begins the story of Jesus’ final travail which we celebrate this and every Good Friday. We witness the human Jesus suffer and die. It is such a human story. It is our story. Which part will we play today?
~ Jim Segaar
Found GuiltyThe high priest stood up before the court and began to interrogate Jesus: "Have you no answer to what these people are testifying against you?" But Jesus remained silent and made no reply. Once again the high priest interrogated him: "Are you the Messiah, the Only Begotten of the Blessed One?" Jesus replied, "I am! And you will see the Chosen One seated at the right hand of the Power and coming with the clouds of heaven." At that, the high priest tore his robes and said, "What further need do we have of witnesses? You have heard the blasphemy. What is your verdict?" They all said Jesus was guilty and condemned him to death.
Of what do they accuse you, who healed with loving touch?
Can any call you guilty, who freely gave so much? Why are you pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn? How does your visage languish, that once was bright as morn? |
Jesus about to be struck in front of the High Priest Annas, depicted by Madrazo, 1803. Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain
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Meditation - Guilt or Innocence
When I was 8, our 3rd grade class sat quietly waiting for Miss Gilker to return after another teacher had come to teach music and then left. Suddenly I called out, “The Old Witch is coming!”
I had seen a glimpse of a scary movie on a neighbor’s television the night before, and my imagination had run amok. The fuss at my dramatic announcement was exactly what I hoped for. And then Miss Gilker walked in.
Kathy Cole piped up and said, “Cathy just called you an old witch!”
I was horrified because it seemed I had done just that. I couldn’t begin to explain myself. I wasn’t even thinking of Miss Gilker, but of the old suspicious woman in that film. I was guilty, and ashamed to have to accept responsibility for something I did not intend. I brooded about how I could have cleared myself of the false charge for years.
Jesus did not mean to challenge the authorities, or did he? After he was arrested, he remained silent. He let the ill-intentioned priests, elders and scholars conspire to justify the charges. “Many gave false testimony,” Mark writes, “but their stories did not agree.” Mark 14.56. When finally the high priest asked Jesus whether he was “the Messiah, the Only Begotten of the Blessed One,” he replied, “I am!” Admitting to blasphemy, he watched as all of his judges agreed.
Who is the guilty one here, and who the innocent? Most of history assumes Jesus’ innocence, but differs in its understandings of how he was condemned. One of the Twelve did hand Jesus over, but there is some historical question whether Judas could even have been a part of Jesus’ plan. Others condemn Judas outright. But many, perhaps including Judas, did not know what Jesus’s teaching meant.
Today we have a growing list of examples of justice done imperfectly and with prejudice. Police officers have killed Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Antonio Zambres-Montes, and others. Americans are slowly moving to acknowledge a problem with law enforcement among people of color. As one after another of those on death row are found innocent, we discover through further examination and DNA evidence, miscarriages of justice. Juries have simply found too many innocent people guilty.
Discerning with precision the motives of a person accused of a crime in ambiguous circumstances or with scant evidence is a tough call. We rush to judgment before we can fully understand human behavior or know all the facts.
In my case, I could not prove what I had intended. Accused, I was mute in my defense. In courtrooms today, even on television’s Law and Order, some of the innocent remain in custody, regardless whether their attorneys believe they have demonstrated they are innocent.
Jesus stands for us millennia after his death. He submits to arrest, indictment, and execution apparently without motive, misunderstood and misinterpreted both by his judges and some of his followers. And by doing so, he reveals the bankruptcy of the power/dominance system. He is one of us, one who knows what it is to be vilified for reaching out with love to the underrepresented. Desmond Tutu challenged the leaders of Apartheid South Africa by declaring that they had already lost long before they fell from power.
It is arrogant to presume to discern guilt and innocence outside of an impartial system of justice. Humans are blinded by our haste to label actions black or white, wrong or right. But we continue to try, and continue to learn.
At his death, Jesus said of his persecutors: “Abba, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing.” Luke 23:34 We are the ones who don’t know why we do what we do, or often, even what we are doing. Forgive us.
~ Pastor Cathy Fransson
[All scriptural references are from The Inclusive Bible.]
Mocked and BeatenThe soldiers led Jesus away into the hall known as the Praetorium; then they assembled the whole battalion. They dressed Jesus in royal purple, then wove a crown of thorns and put it on him. They began to salute him: "All hail! King of the Jews!" They kept striking Jesus on the head with a reed, spitting at him and kneeling in front of him pretending to pay homage. Whey they had finished mocking him, they stripped him of the purple and dressed him in his own clothes. Then they led him out to be crucified.
O Sacred Head now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down.
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns thine only crown. O Sacred Head what glory, what bliss 'til now was thine. Yet in this time of sorrow, I joy to call thee mine. |
The Mocking of Christ, c. 1625, Hendrick ten Brugghen
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Meditation
Theologians often describe Christ's work in this passage as 'active and passive obedience' The 'active obedience' is doing his Father's will like 'teaching, miracle-working, obeying the Law, to fulfill all righteousness.' The 'passive obedience' of Christ encapsulates His obedience to death, even being 'mocked and beaten' by the soldiers, to secure our salvation and future blessings. (Paraphrased from Mocked and Beaten Reformed Bible Studies & Devotional at Ligonier.org)
This passage is best illustrated in our times by the hymn, O Sacred Head Now Wounded (Pilgrim Hymnal, p.226)
O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down
Now, scornfully surrounded with thorns, your only crown.
How pale you are with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does your visage languish, which once was bright as morn!
What you, dear Savior, suffered was all for sinners gain.
Mine, mine was the transgression, but yours the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fail, my Savior, for I deserve your place,
Look on me with your favor, O grant to me your grace.
What language shall I borrow, to thank you dearest friend.
for this your dying sorrow, your pity without end?
May I be yours forever, and though my days, be few,
O Savior let me never, out live my love for you!
This Lenten Reflection, calls us to examine our own lives, our times of darkness and light, despair and hope, and reflect on these times, and determine what we have learned from them. Robin Roberts of 'Good Morning America' shared a lesson learned from her Mother, who always said 'In the mess, there is a message' Seems like good advice, for these difficult times in our world.
And from an anonymous poet in The Weaver, words of consolation:
'Not until the loom is silent,
and the shuttle cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
in the Weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
in the pattern he has planned.
Prayer: May this season of Lent be a time of reflection and personal introspection, that new life may take room in our very being. Amen.
~ Pastor David Kile
DeathWhen noon came, darkness fell on the whole countryside and lasted until about three in the afternoon. At three, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani?" which means, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"
A few of the bystanders who heard it remarked, "Listen! He is calling on Elijah!" Someone ran and soaked a sponge in sour wine and stuck it on a reed to try to make Jesus drink, saying, "Let's see if Elijah comes to take him down." Then Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. The centurion who stood guard over Jesus, seeing how he died, declared, "Clearly, this was God's Own!" When comes my hour of parting, do not then part from me.
As death's dread hour approaches, beside me you will be. And when in awful anguish, my time of death is nigh, Your cross will then uphold me, that steadfast I may die. |
Christ of Saint John of the Cross
by Salvador Dalí, 1951.
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Meditation
Sometimes the nearness of death pushes us to be honest.
When my father was dying my oldest son, with whom my father was very close, was visiting him. My father, who was a very positive person, and who had always believed strongly that there is a life after death, shared with his grandson that the approach of his death was frightening to him. Good for you, Dad!
Jesus, according to Mark's Gospel, cried out as he was dying "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?"
This is a quotation from the first line of Psalm 22. In that psalm, the writer is reminding God that God's agreement was that when His people cried out to Him for help, He would respond.
When Mark wrote his gospel, the temple in Jerusalem was being destroyed. The Romans had triumphed over the Jews. They had cried out, and their God had not delivered them.
Jesus cried out--no response.
I am reminded of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas' poem where he says to his dying father: "Do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage, against the dying of the light."
Jesus the Human One. He who is what humanity truly is. Who is what it means to be human. Not a divine being, playing at being human. Not a sacrificial lamb, dying for our sins to placate a judging God. Not the Son of God, but a son of God.
Jesus the abandoned one. Jesus our brother. Our companion who enters with us into the unknown.
It is this Jesus who knows death first hand and who can walk with us into our dying. It is this Jesus who rages with us against the dying of the light.
It is this Jesus who flees Central America and into the hands of an immigration system that may abandon him.
It is this Jesus who does not know where to lay his head, for he walks homeless through the streets of Seattle.
It is this Jesus who languishes in prison for being poor and black.
My God,My God, why have you abandoned me?
We walk today where Jesus walks. As he and we identify with the abandoned, we walk into life. We become truly human.
Mark says that when Jesus died, the curtain of the temple was torn in two.
Now all of life is holy!
~ Bill Malcomson
Sometimes the nearness of death pushes us to be honest.
When my father was dying my oldest son, with whom my father was very close, was visiting him. My father, who was a very positive person, and who had always believed strongly that there is a life after death, shared with his grandson that the approach of his death was frightening to him. Good for you, Dad!
Jesus, according to Mark's Gospel, cried out as he was dying "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?"
This is a quotation from the first line of Psalm 22. In that psalm, the writer is reminding God that God's agreement was that when His people cried out to Him for help, He would respond.
When Mark wrote his gospel, the temple in Jerusalem was being destroyed. The Romans had triumphed over the Jews. They had cried out, and their God had not delivered them.
Jesus cried out--no response.
I am reminded of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas' poem where he says to his dying father: "Do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage, against the dying of the light."
Jesus the Human One. He who is what humanity truly is. Who is what it means to be human. Not a divine being, playing at being human. Not a sacrificial lamb, dying for our sins to placate a judging God. Not the Son of God, but a son of God.
Jesus the abandoned one. Jesus our brother. Our companion who enters with us into the unknown.
It is this Jesus who knows death first hand and who can walk with us into our dying. It is this Jesus who rages with us against the dying of the light.
It is this Jesus who flees Central America and into the hands of an immigration system that may abandon him.
It is this Jesus who does not know where to lay his head, for he walks homeless through the streets of Seattle.
It is this Jesus who languishes in prison for being poor and black.
My God,My God, why have you abandoned me?
We walk today where Jesus walks. As he and we identify with the abandoned, we walk into life. We become truly human.
Mark says that when Jesus died, the curtain of the temple was torn in two.
Now all of life is holy!
~ Bill Malcomson
WeepingAs it grew dark - it was Preparation Day, that is, the eve of the Sabbath - a distinguished member of the Sanhedrin, Joseph from Arimathea, arrived. He was waiting for the reign of God, and he gathered up courage and sought an audience with Pilate, and asked for the body of Jesus.
Pilot was surprised that Jesus should have died so soon. He summoned the centurion and inquired whether Jesus was already dead. Upon learning that this was so, Pilate released the body to Joseph. Then, having brought a linen shroud, Joseph took the body of Jesus down, wrapped him in the linen and laid him in a tomb which had been cut out of rock. Finally, he rolled a large stone across the entrance of the tomb. Meanwhile, Mary of Mandala and Mary, the mother of Jesus, were looking on and observed where Jesus had been laid. Here at your grave I languish in deep despair and grief,
and in this hour of weeping my soul finds no relief. What language shall I borrow to thank you dearest Friend, for this your dying sorrow, your pity without end? |
La descente de croix, Rubens
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Meditation
The lyrics, “and in this hour of weeping my soul finds no relief,” stands in stark contrast to the words of Jesus in Luke’s gospel, “Blessed are those who weep now, for they shall laugh.” Finding yourself in that place where you can’t stop crying and there is no relief in sight can both signal and signify a life-changing experience.
Tilda Norberg tells the stories of people who directly experienced the devastation of 9/11. A Roman Catholic parish on Staten Island lost 30 people that day. One family lost both a daughter and a son, one in each tower: At the memorial service there was loud wailing and ‘crying before the Lord.’ Family members did not hold back their devastation; they were perfectly comfortable bringing to God exactly how they felt.
The family’s relentless unabashed tears signaled that their lives would never be the same again. Under regular circumstances, perhaps even sad ones, we might assume that tears are something that can – and should – be controlled.
And then some trauma changes our life altogether and we find ourselves saying, “I can’t stop crying.”
People who have rarely cried sometimes tell me they are shocked to discover a serious cardiac episode has left them unable to keep their tears in check. “I can’t stop crying,” is sometimes offered as an apology for those who have experienced a tragic loss or some wounding that never seems to go away. Even if they are telling the story for the hundredth time, they can be caught off guard by tears they thought had been cried out long ago.
And the truth is: “In this hour of weeping,” relief is far away because the old life, the previous existence, the past order of things, is gone. Weeping won’t bring anyone back to life. The tears signal an experience that one does not get over. The best we can hope is to get through it.
The priest at the Staten Island parish says the wailing and weeping was the beginning of “the healing of this family’s tragedy as they surrendered their tears to the Lord.”
If that’s true, those tears are in good hands. Not only do those around the death of Jesus experience their own weeping, their tears signify the kind of connection Jesus had with the world.
Rodney Miller, a United Methodist pastor in Pennsylvania, says that the reports about what was happening in New York on 9/11 left him stunned and horrified – so much so that he couldn’t stop crying. That experience, he says, convinced him that he was experiencing “a gift of profound mystery, that of crying the tears of Christ.” Miller imagined Jesus weeping over New York City as he had over Jerusalem in Luke 19 and that connection signified the experience that stretches over time, distance, and culture and reaches right down into our hearts.
It’s true that I am embarrassed about the reputation I have developed for crying easily. I know the manipulative power of tears. I grit my teeth when I feel the tears coming because I remember how tears have been used to maneuver me into some kind of emotional vulnerability.
But the truth is: I really can’t stop crying. The tears signify my own life-changing trauma that gets caught up with the tears of others. Part of what is compelling to me about the church is that, early on, it was instructed to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12.15b).
It may be true that laughter is the best medicine. But tears have their medicinal value too. That’s one of the good things about “Good” Friday. It is one of those rare times when we honor the power of weeping to connect us at the heart regardless of time and place.
Laughter will come again. Morning will dawn. But for now, this is the hour of weeping, especially if there seems to be no relief in sight.
~ Pastor Tim Phillips
The book by Tilda Norbert is Ashes Transformed (Upper Room Books, 2002).
Going Out
In the final movement of St. Matthew Passion, J.S. Bach concludes his master work with some of the most moving music ever written. Everyone, performers and audience alike, are left exhausted, disconsolate, weeping. Each of us must find the energy to go on, to try to make sense of what happened. But first, we must rest, just as Jesus was laid to rest. As this service concludes we offer that final movement in its entirety as a closing meditation and benediction.
English Translation from Barenreiter:
Here at Thy grave sit we all weeping, and call Thee as in grief we weep.
Sweetly sleep, sleep Thou sweetly, sweetly sleep!
Rest, Thou weary, tortured body.
Let Thy tombstone and Thy grave be the sweet alleviation in our woe the consolation, which our weary spirits crave.
Sweetly sleep, sink to slumber sweet and deep.
Here at Thy grave sit we all weeping, and call Thee as in grief we weep.
Sweetly sleep, sleep Thou sweetly, sweetly sleep!
Here at Thy grave sit we all weeping, and call Thee as in grief we weep.
Sweetly sleep, sleep Thou sweetly, sweetly sleep!
Rest, Thou weary, tortured body.
Let Thy tombstone and Thy grave be the sweet alleviation in our woe the consolation, which our weary spirits crave.
Sweetly sleep, sink to slumber sweet and deep.
Here at Thy grave sit we all weeping, and call Thee as in grief we weep.
Sweetly sleep, sleep Thou sweetly, sweetly sleep!
The message of Good Friday is that the dictum of an eye for an eye cannot work. The way to conquer evil is through good. Similarly, violence can be overcome only by nonviolence and hatred by love.
~Anonymous quote from www.searchquotes.com
~Anonymous quote from www.searchquotes.com
Acknowledgements
Scripture verses are taken from The Inclusive Bible, the Gospel of Mark chapters 14 and 15.
Music for this service is based on a Passion hymn from the Middle Ages, O Sacred Head, Now Wounded. The tune was used repeatedly by J.S. Bach in his St. Matthew Passion. Words were compiled from the original Passion hymn, translations of Bach's work, and our own thoughts on this day.
Performers for the 2015 recording session: Vicky Thomas, director; Michelle Horsley, organist; C.J. Hendrickson, Pat Kile, Christine Warren, Meri Bauer, Hannah Elder, Michaele Miller, Ethan Jones, Phil Mortenson, Jim Ginn, Dick Johnson, John Chenault, Jim Segaar. Recorded by Jim Segaar.
Music for Going Out is the final movement from St. Matthew Passion by J.S. Bach. It was recorded in 2007 by Orchestra Seattle and the Seattle Chamber Singers under the direction of George Shangrow, and is used with permission from OSSCS. Several members of Seattle First Baptist have sung with this group over the years.
All images are from Wikipedia.
Scripture verses are taken from The Inclusive Bible, the Gospel of Mark chapters 14 and 15.
Music for this service is based on a Passion hymn from the Middle Ages, O Sacred Head, Now Wounded. The tune was used repeatedly by J.S. Bach in his St. Matthew Passion. Words were compiled from the original Passion hymn, translations of Bach's work, and our own thoughts on this day.
- Betrayed and Denied: harmonization by J.S. Bach, recorded in 2015 by performers listed below.
- Found Guilty: harmonization by J.S. Bach, recorded in 2015 by performers listed below.
- Mocked and Beaten: O Sacred Head, Hassler/Leaf, Stephen McComas, clarinet, Seattle First Baptist Sanctuary Choir and orchestra under the direction of Vicky Thomas.
- Death: harmonization by J.S. Bach, recorded in 2015 by performers listed below.
- Weeping: organ work by Johannes Brahms, Herzlich tut much verlangen, recorded in 2015 by performers listed below.
Performers for the 2015 recording session: Vicky Thomas, director; Michelle Horsley, organist; C.J. Hendrickson, Pat Kile, Christine Warren, Meri Bauer, Hannah Elder, Michaele Miller, Ethan Jones, Phil Mortenson, Jim Ginn, Dick Johnson, John Chenault, Jim Segaar. Recorded by Jim Segaar.
Music for Going Out is the final movement from St. Matthew Passion by J.S. Bach. It was recorded in 2007 by Orchestra Seattle and the Seattle Chamber Singers under the direction of George Shangrow, and is used with permission from OSSCS. Several members of Seattle First Baptist have sung with this group over the years.
All images are from Wikipedia.