IN THY MOST BITTER PASSION MY HEART TO SHARE DOTH CRY

Isaiah 52: 13 – 53: 12; Romans 8: 1 – 17; John 19: 1-12

Sermon preached by the Reverend John E. Kitagawa during the first hour of the Good Friday Liturgy, 10 April 2009 at St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish, Tucson, Arizona

As we begin our Good Friday journey with Christ, I recall for you a personal experience. When I was about ten years old, my family visited Rome and the Vatican. One experience made a big impression, and has remained deeply embedded in my memory. I remember watching people, some very old, ascending a flight of stairs on their knees, stopping at each step to pray. I cannot recall exactly what I thought of this, but it was an epiphany event. I was touched by a powerful aura of devotion and faithfulness. As writer Martin L. Smith has noted,

Sometimes epiphany events are “a whisper which memory will warehouse as a shout”[1].

Some of you know those stairs are located across the street from the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, the cathedral of the Pope. La scala santa are said to be the 28 marble steps Jesus climbed in Pilate's Jerusalem palace. Saint Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constantine, is said to have brought the stairs to Rome. As a child, I could not have known pilgrims had ascended these stairs in prayerful devotion for centuries. At that tender age, I could not have fully appreciated the belief that Christ had walked on those stairs would lead people to venerate his obedience to God, and his willingness to die that we might have life abundantly. That belief led and leads people, in the words of the Holy Eucharist, Rite I, liturgy to "offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies"[2]. Yet, the experience made a profound impression.

Sometimes epiphany events are “a whisper which memory will warehouse as a shout”.

Try to imagine, knowing what you do about Jesus, knowing what you do about what happened in Pilate's palace, knowing Christ's pain and suffering, but also being able to look back through his Easter victory—try to imagine how you would respond to la scala santa. Would you ascend? Would you ascend on your knees? What would go through you mind? What would you have on your heart? What might be your prayers? Perhaps the following words of a powerful Holy Week hymn can set the tone and help you imagine your response.

In thy most bitter passion my heart to share doth cry,

with thee for my salvation upon the cross to die.

Ah, keep my heart thus moved to stand thy cross beneath,

to mourn thee, well beloved, yet thank thee for thy death[3].

The memory of La Scala Santa led me to reflect on epiphanies that came during Good Friday liturgies at Saint Peter's Church, Ellicott City, MD. Part of what makes Saint Peter's distinct is its deep Anglo-Catholic heritage, reflected most visibly in its rich liturgical life. I was invited to help out on Good Friday—to preach and celebrate. As the celebrant I was asked to do things I had never considered before. At the beginning of the liturgy, when the acolytes, lay ministers, and clergy entered the chancel area, we prostrated ourselves on the carpet. For the uninitiated, the proper way to prostrate oneself liturgically is to drop to one knee then the other, then lean and go down to one elbow, then the other, and then gently lie on the ground. At another point, the deacon placed a crucifix on a pillow at the base of the steps to the altar. As the celebrant, I was to set an example by performing an act of adoration. This act consisted of an approach of three double genuflections, meaning dropping to one knee then the other, then getting up one knee at a time; taking several steps and repeating. The act of adoration was completed by kissing the feet of Jesus on the Cross. Initially, during rehearsal, I was very skeptical about these actions. But, I decided to conform to local custom, and to see where the Spirit would lead. To my surprise, I found these actions very powerful when I did them in the liturgy. Up to that point, I could speak or write theologically correct words about the significance of the Christ's Passion, and could make some spiritual connections between Christ's Passion and me. But, it was the physical action of prostrating myself before the altar—it was the physical actions of humbly approaching the crucifix, and then the physical action of kissing the feet of the One who hung on the Cross for me—that led me to a more powerful realization and understanding of the enormity of what God in Christ had done for me, for you, for all humankind, for all time. And it is that realization every Holy Week and Easter that leads me to pray over and over,

In thy most bitter passion my heart to share doth cry,

with thee for my salvation upon the cross to die.

More than any other time in the liturgical year, I believe it is important to participate physically in worship. Of course, the words of Scripture are important. So are the prayers and the music. But, as the fourth verse of the Hymn #168 asks:

What language shall I borrow to thank thee, dearest friend,

for this thy dying sorrow, thy pity without end?

No language, however poetic, is sufficient. We need to move our bodies, and to use all our senses. So, today, try some different physical actions. If you feel comfortable, spend some time kneeling. Feel the hardness of the kneeler or the concrete floor, and think about the people on La Scala Santa. Also remember that Jesus stumbled several times under the weight of the Cross. Let your knees help you to imagine what his felt like as he bruised and cut them on the road to Golgotha. During the second hour of this liturgy, I will carry a wooden cross into the Church and will place it on the chancel steps. Try to imagine what it would be like to carry a cross big enough and strong enough to hold up an adult man. Try to imagine what it would be like to have both hands and feet nailed to the wood of the Cross. You will have the opportunity to move forward for a few moments of prayer. If you are so moved, genuflect or double genuflect as you approach. If you are so moved, at the end of your prayers, approach the Cross, touch it and kiss it.

Sometimes the holiness of the occasion can make it seem a little bit removed from us. Sometimes the holiness of Good Friday can be a barrier to fully appreciating what was happening back then, and what is happening as we bring those events forward. By tapping into a different part of our being, physical participation can help us enter into deeper levels of the experience.

There is another way to that can help us to more fully embrace the experience of walking with Jesus, and finally standing at the foot of the Cross. As you make this journey, remember and think about who Jesus encounters. In what ways are you like Pilate, a person empowered to make decisions that impact the lives of others, a person who was unable to recognize the truth standing before him, and then crucifying that truth. Jesus died for you.

Imagine yourself to be part of the crowd lining the streets of Jerusalem as Jesus and the other condemned men trudged toward Golgotha. If you are one of Jesus' followers who fled when he was arrested, what are you feeling as you watch Jesus go to his death? If you are one who does not believe, are you too busy to notice, and indifferent to what’s happening? Will you be among those who taunt Jesus when he hangs dying on the Cross? Jesus died for you.

Jesus' mother, Mary, appears twice in this sequence. First, Jesus encounters her on the road to Golgotha. What must she be thinking and feeling? Scripture tells us she stored many things in her heart as she observed the early part of his life. What would any parents feel as they watch their child go to his or her death? At the same time, Jesus' special purpose on earth had been revealed to Mary. What must she have felt towards God, especially when she appears the second time, when the body of Jesus was placed in her arms? What happens when you feel like God is not living up to promises you understood God to make? What happens when what you hold near and dear is taken away? Jesus died for you.

On the way to Golgotha Jesus encounters Simon of Cyrene, an innocent bystander soldiers compel to carry Jesus' heavy cross. What might it feel like to walk in Jesus’ sandals? It is difficult enough that Jesus tells us to pick up our own crosses in order to follow him. How would you feel about carrying someone else's cross? If Christ is in all people, whose cross are you being asked to carry today? Jesus died for you.

How are you like the woman who wipes the face of Jesus? What would motivate you? Whose face do you wipe today? Jesus died for you.

How are you like the weeping women of Jerusalem, who seemed to have missed the point? In what ways can you imagine Jesus coming to you and pointing you in a new direction? Jesus died for you.

How are you like the soldiers who stripped Jesus of his garments and cast lots for them? Whose garments are you stealing today, and with whose legacy do you gamble? How are you like the soldier who nailed Jesus to the Cross? Who are you crucifying today? Jesus died for you.

I invite you to participate in the drama of Christ's Passion. I invite you to enter into the moment by bringing the old story into the present. I invite you to experience the many levels and facets of the story. Most importantly, though, allow your participation in, your entering into, and your experience of Christ's Passion to remind you and to teach you anew what God in Christ has done for you and me and for the whole of humankind. In one sense, the point of today’s liturgy can be summarized in words from that hymn:

Ah, keep my heart moved to stand thy cross beneath,

to mourn thee, well beloved, yet thank thee for thy death.

From another portion of this hymn comes this plea:

Oh, make me thine for ever! And should I fainting be,

Lord, let me never, never, outlive my love for thee.

When you leave this church, whether it be after one hour or three, I hope you will have had epiphanies—revealing and insightful experiences—that help you know how profoundly and fully Christ has made us his, and that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of Christ. And, may your memory store the whisper of that new insight as a shout you will hear for years to come.

AMEN.