By Archbishop Linda Nicholls
Although I have never been in one I have seen videos of avalanches. A wall of snow or ice or mud is suddenly triggered. The powerful force of gravity sends it tumbling down a mountain, gathering momentum and picking up everything in its path – crushing trees, sending boulders flying, destroying homes and causing death.
Holy week feels like that to me. Jesus triggers reactions that gather more and more power turning into an unstoppable avalanche of injustice and pain.
Judas, whose expectations have not been met, feels compelled to betray Jesus to the authorities. The disciples allow fear to cause them to abandon Jesus, to deny and lie about their relationship with him. The religious leaders remain blind to what God might be saying through Jesus’ words and actions. The crowds who longed for Jesus to be their Messiah turn on him because he won’t fill their expectations here and now. Pilate chooses political expediency over his own conscience. The soldiers use the opportunity to mock and disrespect Jesus. And through it all Jesus remains silent. What could even be said that would stop the avalanche?
The avalanche of injustice gathers energy and sweeps through hearts and minds of individuals and crowds until Jesus is arrested, tried, tortured and crucified. Like the end of a physical avalanche there is then an eery silence. Even the sun disappears. We see only Mary and John wrapped in the silence of enormous grief.
We stand at the foot of the cross knowing that such avalanches of suffering and destruction continue to overtake what is good, just and fair. We see Jesus, one who speaks of compassion and forgiveness, justice and healing, tortured and killed. We see with him all who suffer now under injustice, oppression and unstoppable avalanches of sin, self-righteousness and death. We see people who love power more than truth.
We see Ukraine and Russia caught in an interminable war.
We see Gaza almost completely destroyed, its people suffering and humanitarian aid barely trickling in under Israeli restrictions. We see Palestinians facing the death penalty that others in Israel do not.
We see the tit for tat retaliations of Israel, Iran, USA, Lebanon, Yemen …the entire Middle East living in fear and no peace plan apparent.
We see murdered and missing Indigenous women and girls continuing to be lost to discrimination, racism and prejudice
We see systemic racism that privileges some and continues to deny others equity and fairness.
We see and fear the power of climate change to which we have co tributes that continues to destroy our planet, as we live in fear of the next snowmaggedon or fires or floods or heat waves.
We see the polarization of human communities that will follow abusive leaders desperately hoping for safety and certainty – and instead creating deeper hatreds and violence.
And we see the smaller versions of all of these in our daily lives and relationships when jealousy, anger, greed, or lust overtake the call to love one another.
We already know and long for the relief of Easter Day …but before we can be there we must stand here. We must stand at the foot of the cross and lament. We must wail for the pain of our world and ourselves; for the innocent crushed by human evil; for the injustices that thrive despite our efforts. And most of all – for our share in all that contributes to the pain, for our participation as fallible human beings in specific actions and in the systems – known or unknown – that we are unwilling to change. We resist changing them because it seems too hard, too costly, too scary and the systems are too powerful. We too are caught in the avalanches spilling around us.
We stand seeing what God sees – a broken world – unable and often unwilling to be what God has called us to be and do. Here Jesus takes it all on himself.
Good Friday is when our hearts and souls are invited to see – to fully see, stripped of all pretenses – to see ourselves and our world honestly and to feel the unrelenting pain of wrong, of evil, of sin, and of death that the world continues to create over and over and over again. It is only when we have stood here with eyes open to all that is on that cross – that the power of Easter may be fully known and the possibility of hope.
Today let us look with open eyes and hearts to see and feel the brokenness of the world that put Jesus on the cross and continues to crucify the love of God in the brokenness and pain that lives around us and within us.
Let us lament, in confession, our share in that pain. Let us hear Jesus – even on the cross – gently commending the care of his mother to the disciple John. Let us hear him offering compassion to the thief beside him on another cross. Let us wait …in silence.
