The Second Reflection offered by the Rt. Rev. Kirk Stevan Smith, Bishop of Arizona, during the Second Hour of the Good Friday liturgy on 21 March 2008, at St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish, Tucson, Arizona

As we continue our Good Friday meditations, we turn our attention to the second figure standing at the foot of the Cross, St. John.

For those of you just joining us, we are using today the two wooden carvings that you see at each side of the altar rail, figures which once stood on a medieval rood cross at a convent in France. They were made by an unknown carver around 1480, and they symbolize for us two aspects of the suffering endured by our Lord at his passion. Earlier we looked at the figure of Mary as representing the full humanity of Jesus and what that might mean for us today. Now we shift our gaze to the other figure that stands opposite Mary, John the Beloved disciple of Jesus.

Interesting enough, we only read about John in the Gospel account bearing his name. In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus is alone at the moment of his death, abandoned by every one of his disciples. In the Gospel of John, which we are reading today, the writer reports on an interesting exchange between John, who is apparently the only one of the disciples still with Jesus, and Mary his mother. We can assume that this same John is also the author of the Gospel. He writes “Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved (which is how John refers to himself) standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. This verse has prompted some scholars to believe that John eventually took Mary to Ephesus, where they became the leaders of the first church there. In any event, John clearly had a very close relationship both to Jesus and to Mary.

As I mentioned, John often refers to himself as the beloved disciple, and because he is the model of what it means to be a faithful follower of Jesus (the only male disciple who followed Jesus unto death), then his actions are important to those of us who believe ourselves to be modern day disciples.

I would suggest that for John to be a disciple means to share in Jesus’ suffering, to stand with Jesus at the foot of the cross, to undergo even death and martyrdom.

I know that such a statement, if taken literally, is totally counter intuitive to modern day Christianity. In fact, we tend to see religion in general and Christianity in particular, as something that ought to make our life better and more comfortable. This so-called feel- good Gospel is the staple of self-help books and televangelists, whether it is the prosperity Gospel of Joel Osmond (pray to Jesus and make lots of money) or soughing breezes blowing through the palm trees inside the Chrystal Cathedral in Southern California, the message is that being a Christian is the best way to obtain peace, happiness, and good health in life, or as one book title I saw would have it, Lose Weight With Jesus.

I doubt seriously that this is what Jesus meant when he told us that if we would be his disciples, we must take up our cross and follow him. These must surely be the scariest words in the New Testament, for by them Jesus does not mean that we simply have to put up with the bad stuff in life. That is the message of stoicism, not the message of the cross. The cross means that we enter into the suffering of the world, just like Jesus did. Christians by definition are people who go looking for trouble.

Why? Because that is what Jesus did. We might ask ourselves the question: If Jesus came back today where would we find him? The answer, if we are honest, would probably not be attending sedate worship in a local well-healed suburban parish. No, Jesus would much more likely be found at the Greyhound bus station, or the ER room at the county hospital, or in the city jail, or the deportation holding tank.

I think if we really understood the suffering requirement that comes from being a Christian, most of us would go running out of church screaming. We have enough suffering in our lives, thank you very much; who needs anymore?

That is why one of my favorite writers, Annie Dillard once said, that if we really understood the Gospel message, ushers would not be sedately handing out bulletins to us on Sunday morning, but instead would be distributing crash helmets, life vests, and signal flares.

As much as we would like to turn the way of the cross into the path to self-improvement, serious disciples throughout history have reminded us of the need to stay focused on the cost of discipleship.

Most famously, Dietrich Bonheoffer, just before he was executed by the Nazi’s in WWII reminded us that if our faith costs us nothing, then it is probably worth nothing. The enemy of the Gospel, he says, is cheap grace.

In the early church too, the highest form of faithfulness was martyrdom, and there are countless stories of those who underwent all kinds of horrible torture and death for the sake of their faith.

So how does this embrace of suffering affect us personally?

If Christ is present wherever suffering is found, that means that we must be there too. This sounds like an impossible requirement, but it is something we probably do more often than we think.

Every time we consciously and deliberately stand along side someone who is in pain, then we are being Christ-like disciples. Perhaps that is doing something as simple as visiting a friend who is in grief, or taking food to the soup kitchen, or volunteering at the hospital, or taking a moment to speak to a person living on the street.

Christians are called to always be on the side of those being crucified. Moreover, we are called to be physically present wherever there is physical pain, hunger, injustice, or oppression.

But as a worshipping community we are also called to be together as a group where there is pain. I read in the paper not long ago that many churches are considering moving from their inner city locations to the suburbs. After all, that is where the upscale population and the money are located. But let me tell you the story of a little church I know that did just the opposite.

One congregation moved from a suburban location to an urban warehouse because they believed they were called to minister to the poor.

St. John, the beloved disciple, stood by Jesus in his pain. The unknown artist who carved this figure 500 years ago portrayed him as a figure whose face is both contorted by the suffering he is witnessing, but who also has his hands clasped in prayer. Holding ones hands together meant more back then than it does now. It is the medieval position for praying and it comes from feudal custom…..When we put our hands together in prayer we are turning our whole life, and all our possessions over to our liege Lord, who has life and death power over us.

And so I leave you, as before, with some questions:

1. The great missionary, theologian, and doctor Albert Sweitzer once said, “Think at least sometimes about the suffering you would rather not see.” What is the suffering around you from which you would rather turn away?

2. Where in your life do you practice a ministry of presence to someone in need?

3. If Jesus were to come back today, where within five miles of your house would you be likely to find him?

4. What more can this church do to take up the cross of those who live in this city?

Prayer:

Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy, but first suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified. Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross may find it none other than the way of life and peace, through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.