“Were you there when they crucified my Lord?” The ancestors pose that question to us. They knew that when you are THERE, when you experience it for yourself, you feel it much more profoundly, it means so much more. Hearing about it is one thing, being there is quite another. Were you there when they tore down St. James Church? Those of us who are Johnny-come-latelies might hear about it, you might tell us about it, but we won’t feel it like you who were there. We won’t share your experience of having a place sacred to you, a place where you encountered the divine, being slowly torn apart as if each of your fingernails were being pulled out. Were you there when the World Trade Towers fell? The back porch at my former parish in Jersey City faced the Towers. As I said my prayers every morning I would watch the sun rise behind them. When they came down it felt as if my prayer icons had been taken from me. I still feel their loss. Being there creates a reaction deep in your soul, deep in your guts.
The ancestors sang, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?” Now obviously they weren’t speaking literally. They knew that centuries separated us from the events of Jesus’ last days. What they are asking, then, is how do those events of Jesus’ life feel to us? Is the suffering and death of Jesus something that we’ve heard about, something that was told to us? Or do we feel the blows of the scourging? Do we experience that pain of the nails? Do we ache from the weight of the cross? Were you there?
I am sure there is a mother in Chicago who was there. You probably know her. Like Mary sitting at the foot of the cross she watched the life blood of her son drain away. She felt so helpless. Her son tried to console her, assure her that she would be cared for. But it didn’t help. Come and see if there is any sorrow like this sorrow. Mothers aren’t supposed to bury their sons. This was all upside down. She was there.
I know a young man who was there. You probably know someone like him too. He was betrayed by one he trusted, by his priest. He thought that he could trust the priest, that this was a man of God who would never do him wrong. Instead he found himself abused, exploited, manipulated, bullied, yes, betrayed. Things were not supposed to be like that. He thought he was safe but it was all wrong. He was there.
You can be sure that there are families in this community who were there. You might be one of them. The father lost his job. The mother had breast cancer. The children need special testing. The roof is leaking and the dog died. If it wasn’t for bad luck, they would have no luck at all. It’s just not fair to be struck by all of this at once. When you do everything right how come everything seems to go wrong? They’ve been there.
I know some people who were there. You probably know them too. They’ve been mocked, beaten, bullied, condemned, abandoned, judged, burdened, thirsty, dying. How come people seem to make the lives of others so difficult? It’s not supposed to be like that. Their lives matter. They’ve been there. In fact, what the ancestors are telling us is that we’ve all been there. We’ve all had our share in carrying the cross. We’ve all had our share in the passion. We’ve all felt it.
I’m reminded of a scene Elie Wiesel describes in his book, Night. He describes a hanging in the concentration camp where he was incarcerated during the Nazi purge. One of the victims was a child who was too light for the rope to do its deadly work. Wiesel goes on: “And so he remained for more than half an hour, lingering between life and death, writhing before our eyes. And we were forced to look at him at close range. He was still alive when I passed him. His tongue was still red, his eyes not yet extinguished. Behind me, I heard a man asking: “For God’s sake, where is God?” And from within me, I heard a voice answer: “Where He is? This is where–hanging here from this gallows…”
Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Sometimes it causes me to tremble. On this Good Friday we are reminded that all suffering, all sorrow, is nailed to the cross with Jesus. “When I am lifted up,” Jesus said a bit earlier, “when I am lifted up I draw all people to myself.” “It was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured,” says the prophet. He takes it all on himself. It is altogether too much. But the promise in joining all suffering with that of Jesus is that that the suffering does not get the last word. Jesus is able to sympathize with our weaknesses, since he has similarly been tested in every way, the epistle reminds us. The work of God is not finished yet. So yes, tremble, tremble, tremble as we touch all the pain and sorrow of this world captured in the wood of the cross. Nail your suffering to the cross to be joined with that of Jesus. And never despair. The best is yet to come. AMEN.
