For those of us who are in a liturgical tradition such as the Episcopal Church, or Roman Catholicism or Lutheranism, we have heard the story of Jesus’s passion at least twice a year—twice in the same week!—for as long as we can remember—once on Palm Sunday, and once on Good Friday. It is a story that never fails to overwhelm with the sheer sweep and scope of the events that Jesus and his followers endured at the end of his earthly ministry.
However, what strikes me is the way that prayer brackets our account. We hear three prayers in our passion narrative: from Jesus on the Mount of Olives, from the Repentant Thief on the cross, and from Jesus again with his last breath. Jesus, our model in all things, models to us the vital importance of prayer especially in all of the times of trial and suffering that we undergo—trials that we KNOW Jesus himself also endured. And in the middle , the thief’s prayer assures us of the forgiveness and redemption Jesus offers to us all.
Let’s remember the scene of the first prayer we just heard. As the betrayer Judas has left the common table, Jesus doesn’t simply sit and wait for the axe to fall. Instead, as we heard, he gathers together his closest friends and goes into the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives to pray. The Mount of Olives was a sacred place. It was a burial ground where all who were buried were oriented with their feet toward the Temple Mount so that at the resurrection that may walk straight to the Temple. Jesus spends the night there in prayer. His disciples, too are urged to pray—but their grief overcomes them.
The content and intent of Jesus’s prayer is powerful. As a fully human person, of course Jesus does not wish to suffer and die. And yet, he also has the power and the faith to pray that in whatever occurs, not his will, but God’s be done.
That level of acceptance and faith is the model of prayer in a time of suffering. The great singer-songwriter captured this level of acceptance in his beautiful song “If It Be Your Will:”
If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will
If it be your will
That a voice be true
From this broken hill
I will sing to you
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well
And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will
If it be your will. (1)
Let us be clear: God’s will was not death. Never. No, God’s will was that Jesus demonstrate the power of love to overcome fear, anger, division, and hate, the roots of all evil. God’s will was to have Jesus come to show us how to LIVE. But on Good Friday, we also see how to remain steadfast in our faith and trust in God, even to our last breath. For if we know that God’s will is love, even death has no power, no hold on us.
So there is Jesus’s first prayer as his path to the cross looms: a prayer for strength to make God’s will visible against the very real forces, then and now, that oppose God’s way of love with the malevolent power of hatred, oppression, and cruelty.
The second prayer we hear is not from Jesus, but from one of the two criminals being executed alongside him: Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. A simple prayer that has been set to music by the Taize community, one that the choir sang at St. Martin’s so beautifully last night as we participated in the ritual washing of feet that is part of the Maundy Thursday service. The repentant thief knew that he had certainly been guilty of the crimes that brought him to execution, unlike Jesus. Yet he also knew that Jesus had the power to forgive him. And so his prayer is one of hope, even as his death looms. “Jesus, remember me.” And that penitent thief receives the assurance that that very day he would join Jesus in paradise. What a glorious prayer! What assurance that offers us!
The last prayer, the last word, comes from Jesus once more. Jesus’s final prayer comes with his very last breath. Jesus’s crucifixion is depicted differently in each of the gospels. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus’s last words from the cross were, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” and he later cries out and dies. In John, Jesus says he is thirsty, and after being given sour wine on a sponge, says simply, “It is finished.” and died. But Luke’s version shows Jesus being steadfast and obedient even until the very end.
In Luke’s account, Jesus’s final words from the cross, quotes Psalm 31:5. For any of us who are prone to quoting psalms in times of stress or need, I think hearing the entire psalm in context clarifies a lot about what the gospel is saying about Jesus’s death.
1In you, Lord, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame;
deliver me in your righteousness.
2 Turn your ear to me,
come quickly to my rescue;
be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress to save me.
3 Since you are my rock and my fortress,
for the sake of your name lead and guide me.
4 Keep me free from the trap that is set for me,
for you are my refuge.
5 Into your hands I commit my spirit;
deliver me, Lord, my faithful God.
When we pray, sometimes we can feel God’s presence as if we could touch it; at other times, we try to reassure ourselves that God indeed hears us. This part of psalm 31 starts out with admitting that the psalmist is in need of refuge and deliverance. And here in Luke’s gospel, on the cross, as Jesus gives his last breath, he is proclaiming his faith and absolute trust in God, even in the depths of his suffering and with his impending death. Jesus is stating that God is faithful at a time when a lot of people would wonder why God has abandoned them. This is very different from the other gospels, and is certainly a source of inspiration for all those who suffer.
When the COVID pandemic first began, our parish sought ways to help our members feel a sense of community and worship together. One of the ways that we did this was through beginning to broadcast worship services—but not just our usual Sunday worship. We also began offering Compline, or Night Prayer, twice a week. If you have ever prayed this service, you will know that the first five verses of Psalm 31 is one of the four psalm choices for this brief prayer liturgy before sleep. This part of Psalm 31 is one of the choices because it is such a beautiful affirmation of God’s protecting presence in our lives.
Remembering that God is with us in the dark times—when the outside world might say that the forces of evil and suffering are stronger—is vitally important. And praying Psalm 31 is certainly more comforting than that prayer that many of us were taught as children to pray before bedtime. You know the one—the version that was first printed in The New England Primer in 17th century colonial America:
Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Good Lord, that prayer actually GAVE me nightmares when I was young. Small wonder that this prayer has been used in horror movies and even by the thrash metal band Metallica in its song “Enter Sandman.” Words are powerful things—and those words, and their implication that I could go to bed healthy and never awaken—were terrifying. Small wonder then that, when I became an Episcopalian and grew acquainted with the treasures of the Book of Common Prayer, I very much turned to that portion of Psalm 31 in the Compline service instead.
As these final moments of Jesus’s Passion remind us, and forcefully so, one does not take refuge in a God who has not already proven to be trustworthy and righteous. The demonstration of God’s saving power will also be a testimony to the world. As pointed out in the verses before those one Jesus quotes, God’s loving care of those who trust in God will glorify God’s Name before all who witness God’s saving work.
As we live into the remembrance of this day, of Jesus’s powerful example to us that is the heart of discipleship, may we remember, too, the power of prayer in our own lives. May we remember Jesus’s prayer to God was always grounded in obedience, trust, and assurance.
And may we go, and pray likewise.
a strong fortress to save me.
3 Since you are my rock and my fortress,
for the sake of your name lead and guide me.
4 Keep me free from the trap that is set for me,
for you are my refuge.
5 Into your hands I commit my spirit;
deliver me, Lord, my faithful God.
When we pray, sometimes we can feel God’s presence as if we could touch it; at other times, we try to reassure ourselves that God indeed hears us. This part of psalm 31 starts out with admitting that the psalmist is in need of refuge and deliverance. And here in Luke’s gospel, on the cross, as Jesus gives his last breath, he is proclaiming his faith and absolute trust in God, even in the depths of his suffering and with his impending death. Jesus is stating that God is faithful at a time when a lot of people would wonder why God has abandoned them. This is very different from the other gospels, and is certainly a source of inspiration for all those who suffer.
When the COVID pandemic first began, our parish sought ways to help our members feel a sense of community and worship together. One of the ways that we did this was through beginning to broadcast worship services—but not just our usual Sunday worship. We also began offering Compline, or Night Prayer, twice a week. If you have ever prayed this service, you will know that the first five verses of Psalm 31 is one of the four psalm choices for this brief prayer liturgy before sleep. This part of Psalm 31 is one of the choices because it is such a beautiful affirmation of God’s protecting presence in our lives.
Remembering that God is with us in the dark times—when the outside world might say that the forces of evil and suffering are stronger—is vitally important. And praying Psalm 31 is certainly more comforting than that prayer that many of us were taught as children to pray before bedtime. You know the one—the version that was first printed in The New England Primer in 17th century colonial America:
Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Good Lord, that prayer actually GAVE me nightmares when I was young. Small wonder that this prayer has been used in horror movies and even by the thrash metal band Metallica in its song “Enter Sandman.” Words are powerful things—and those words, and their implication that I could go to bed healthy and never awaken—were terrifying. Small wonder then that, when I became an Episcopalian and grew acquainted with the treasures of the Book of Common Prayer, I very much turned to that portion of Psalm 31 in the Compline service instead.
As these final moments of Jesus’s Passion remind us, and forcefully so, one does not take refuge in a God who has not already proven to be trustworthy and righteous. The demonstration of God’s saving power will also be a testimony to the world. As pointed out in the verses before those one Jesus quotes, God’s loving care of those who trust in God will glorify God’s Name before all who witness God’s saving work.
As we live into the remembrance of this day, of Jesus’s powerful example to us that is the heart of discipleship, may we remember, too, the power of prayer in our own lives. May we remember Jesus’s prayer to God was always grounded in obedience, trust, and assurance.
And may we go, and pray likewise.
Preached at the 10 am Good Friday service at the Fountains, and at the 7 pm Good Friday service at St. Martin's in Ellisville.
Readings:
Citations:
1) Leonard Cohen, "If It Be Your Will" from the album Various Positions, 1984.
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