They All Abandoned Him (Good Friday)

“They all abandoned him”

Good Friday

12:00 noon Good Friday Liturgy with Adoration of the Cross

Homily Delivered at Trinity Episcopal Church

Ashland, Oregon
Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 10:16-25; Psalm 22; John 18:1-19:42

God, take away our hearts of stone
 and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

One of the saddest elements of the passion stories is summed up in a line from Mark’s Gospel that is repeated in Matthew’s, describing the disciples’ reaction to the arrest of Jesus, “And they all forsook him and fled” (Mark 14:50; cf. Matthew 26:56).   All four Gospels agree that several of Jesus’ women disciples watched on from a distance as he suffered on the cross, and then sought to care for his body after his death.  And John’s Gospel insists that the founder of that Gospel’s community, the beloved disciple, also stood by the cross with Jesus’ mother.  But apart from that, all Jesus disciples abandoned him, including St. Peter, whose initial effort to follow Jesus ends in his denial of even knowing him in all four Gospels. 

The fact is, the disciples had always been skeptical of Jesus, and wary of his strange ways of thinking and behaving.  At turns in the Gospel stories of his life, they are “variously enthralled, mystified, bemused, apprehensive, and confounded” (A Keeper of the Word: the Selected Writings of William Stringfellow, ed. Bill Wylie Keller; Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 1994, p. 394.)

Earlier, even when the disciples seemed to be doing the best, they fail miserably.  When Peter first confesses Jesus as Christ, he immediately spoils the moment of faith by arguing with Jesus over what it means to be a Messiah, insisting that Jesus cannot suffer or die, lest the kingdom not come.  “Get behind me, Satan,” is Jesus’ response.   Peter seems to be rehearsing for Good Friday. 

We see it again and again.  The disciples go out, charged by Jesus to preach the arrival of the Kingdom and heal the sick.  Sometimes they succeed, but there are several stories where they fail, and where Jesus’ response is to gently chide them for their lack of trust in God.   Peter sinks in the waves as he tries to follow Jesus’ beckoning as he walks on the sea.  They doubt Jesus’ care for them during the tempest on the sea.  The sons of Zebedee, James and John, try to set themselves up with special places of honor beside Jesus, and all the other disciples argue with them over it.  When the two go with Peter to accompany Jesus to the Mount of Transfiguration and see there the wondrous revelation of who Jesus truly is, all Peter can do is to propose building three small shrines commemorating the event, “because he did not know what he was saying.”  They repeatedly misunderstand parables and sayings of Jesus, even when he speaks in relatively clear terms.  Even on the evening of the last supper with Jesus, on Maundy Thursday, the disciples are still arguing with each other over their relative rank.  

Holy Week sees the problem condensed and concentrated.  The disciples’ acclamation of Jesus as the coming David on Palm Sunday quickly turns into worry at what they think are his erratic acts that week, the cursing of the fig tree, the cleansing of the Temple, his strange declaration at their last meal together that the bread and wine are not the Passover’s “Bread of Affliction” or “Cup of Blessing,” but rather his own body and blood, broken and poured out for them.  By the time his inner circle accompanies him to Gethsemane, they are exhausted, worn out, and cannot even stay awake to prayer with him. 

And these people were Jesus’ friends and family!  As William Stringfellow writes, “…if one goes no further than this, there is a warning for people now in these New Testament reports of the skepticism or incredulity of the disciples (and of Jesus’ family) despite their intimacy with Jesus.  This should be enough to render people wary of huckster preachers or celebrities evangelists who assert that mere intimacy with Jesus of an intense, private, or exclusive nature is faith.  This is a fascinating, tempting, simplistic, but unbiblical doctrine, and multitudes are seduced by it into fancying that to be, somehow, in the presence of Jesus is so compelling and so positive an experience that doubt of all sorts is dispelled quickly, conclusively, as if magically.  Yet there is no basis in the New Testament for any such supposition or delusion; on the contrary, for all their unique experience in the company of Jesus, the disciples did not believe him or believe in him.  What seems most surprising and crucial, furthermore, is that the disbelief of the disciples persisted even after the resurrection” (ibid., 396-7.)   

The disciples in these stories are in a way symbols for all disciples, for all of us.  These stories of abandonment, incredulity, and obstinance are about us.  

How often do we let our fear let us ignore what Jesus tells us in our conscience? 

How often do we let our desire for control and security, at least the semblance of control and security, govern our choices even when Jesus calls us otherwise? 

How often do we compartmentalize our lives—faith and religion over here, and politics, economics, finances, social status, and amusements over here? 

They all abandoned him.  We all abandon him. 

Dutch renaissance poet Jacobus Revius wrote the following poem on the occasion of Good Friday: 

He Bore our Anguish

It was not the Jews, Lord Jesus, who crucified you,

Nor the traitors who dragged you to the law,

Nor the contemptuous who spit in your face,

Nor those who bound you, and hit you full of wounds,

And it was not the soldiers who with evil hands

Lifted up the reed, or the hammer,

Or set that cursed wood on Golgotha,

Or cast lots for your robe;

It is I, O Lord, it is I who have done it,

I am the heavy tree that overburdened you,

I am the rough hands that bound you,

The nail, the spear, and the cords that whipped you,

The bloodied crown that tore your head;

All this happened, alas! for my sins.  (tr. Charles D. Tate, Jr.)

Lord Jesus Christ, you gave your body over to be whipped and pierced, your face to be spit upon, and your life’s blood to be poured out for our sake, to bring near your Father’s Reign.  Mercifully grant us grace to accept the sufferings that are ours, and sustain us that we might follow you as faithful witnesses and proclaim the joy of your kingdom.  For your mercy’s sake we pray, Amen.