This is the one night of the year when you can be sure we will talk about difficult things. In this case, death. But it is because we are in community, together in the ties that bind, that we can speak of difficult things. So what can we say about death tonight?
We’ve all experienced a death in our families of origin. Some of us have experienced death in our nuclear families. Others have experienced the death of friends or coworkers. This year there are a great many deaths due to the corona-virus.
I have a responsibility of being in proximity to people who are dying and to their families wherever and whenever possible. So I’ve often had a front-row seat on their experience. As you can imagine, I observe many similarities and commonalities.
It is not uncommon, for example, for the surviving spouse or children of an aged man or woman to recount the events of the day their loved one died. “I was in the kitchen,” a widow sometimes begins, “and I heard a noise from the living room. So I went in to check on him and he was slumped over in his chair. I tried to rouse him, but it was no use. If I had been there, I might have seen something. I maybe could have called an ambulance in time. But I was in the kitchen. I was in the kitchen.”
She wished she had done something differently. If only she had been here instead of there. Or awake instead of asleep. Or had taken one medicine instead of another. Or if they had gotten those arteries checked last month. On and on the list goes. Longer and longer it becomes. If only. If only. But I was in the kitchen.
In a similar way, we come to the death of our Lord Jesus with ponderings about our own culpability and even regrets. Of course we weren’t there in flesh and blood. But the blood of our human race flowed through their veins like it does ours. And our lives with God and neighbor transcend the distance of time and space. If the resurrection is our story, then so must be the crucifixion.
So what should we have done differently? Should we have joined in with Peter when the soldiers came to arrest Jesus? Jesus told us not to fight — that those who would live by the sword would die by the sword — but maybe we could have freed him from arrest. Should we have ever trusted Judas in the first place? Shouldn’t we have seen this coming?
In the courtyards where Jesus was tried, we could have caused a disruption, a distraction, in the crowd. We could have gotten Jesus’ friends together and protested. And why didn’t we shout louder than those who shouted, “Barrabas. Give us Barrabas.” We should have yelled at the top of our lungs, “Give us Jesus!”
You know we really missed our chance on the Via Dolorosa! When Jesus fell down, we could have run into help him and spirited him away. Our brothers and sisters were always rioting against the Romans. Did we think Yahweh would just smite them all for us? Was that what the Lord expected us to do?
Or when Peter denied our Lord to that servant girl. Shouldn’t we have poked him in the ribs when he said, “I do not know him”? We shouldn’t have let him get off like that. He was always telling us what to do or not do. But he couldn’t have picked a worse time to lose his nerve. Feckless Peter.
We should have prevented this. We let our rabbi down. If only we had done the right thing. This could all have been avoided. If only. “But I was in the kitchen.”
Now this is the spot when I usually tell you how it’s really all OK after all because God fixes everything. This is where I turn toward hope. We all take a deep breath and give God thanks for sorting everything else in the end. We go on feeling better about ourselves and the world around us.
But this is Good Friday. This is no ordinary occasion. This time we don’t get to resolve our inner tensions and cognitive dissonances. At least not tonight. Not yet. Tonight we are still in the kitchen, hearing a strange noise and running into the living room to see what happened.
Tonight, we have to live with the problem a while. And the problem is not easily resolved. The problem is that Jesus will be our scapegoat. If one person will be held responsible, the community can move on. It’s horrible, but it clears the air. It gives us a way forward. Tonight Jesus will be the scapegoat.
The only hope we have left is that Jesus will allow himself to be our scapegoat. That God will hang on the cross for us. That has to be our miracle tonight. Because it will take a miracle to make something good out of this.