Good Friday's Cross

It’s been a rough week for our community. With the shouts of “Hosanna!” still ringing in my ears from the morning’s Palm Sunday services, I heard that there had been shots fired at the Jewish Community Center and the Village Shalom retirement community. Both of these locations are mere blocks from our church building. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and I had settled in to watch the Masters. It wasn’t long before the news turned particularly grim. Three dead.  The man that had been arrested was reported to have spouted anti-Semitic filth. As the afternoon wore on, my Twitter feed blew up as information about the tragedy emerged and plans for an interfaith prayer vigil were announced.

By 8:00 that evening I found myself standing in front of a very large crowd at an interfaith prayer vigil at St. Thomas Episcopal Church. The power of social media was on display as hundreds of people packed the church, all in varying degrees of shock, sadness and disbelief. Local and national news media were there in droves. I spoke of the irony that such horrific violence was visited upon a place named Village Shalom; a word that means peace and wholeness. While the actions were motivated by anti-Semitic hatred, the tragedy was reverberating throughout the entire faith community. By the time we gathered for the vigil, we had learned that two of those killed were members at the United Methodist Church of the Resurrection.  (In the following days we would learn that the third person killed was a faithful parishioner at St. Peter’s Catholic Church). In yet another ironic twist, what was intended as a targeted attack against the Jewish community took the lives of Christians. Such is the nature of our community. Our lives are deeply intertwined. Our religion, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and socio-economic status create a tapestry that we often cannot see until it has been torn. I hope this serves as a lesson to us every time there is news of gun violence throughout the Kansas City metropolitan area.

Today Christians observe Good Friday, the day of Jesus’ crucifixion and death. On this day, we’re called to pause and reflect on the cross, an instrument of torture and execution. While much of Christianity wants to focus on what Christ’s cross has done for us, I’m more prone to reflect on what we have done (and continue to do) through the cross. Christians believe that in Jesus, God showed up in our world. Jesus proclaimed a simple message rooted in ancient scripture: Love God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself.   And yet, we rejected and crucified him. Perhaps we didn’t care for his definition of neighbor? Perhaps we’re a violent breed? That same cross has been used throughout the centuries to dominate and condemn others according to our religious categories. The cross has, more often than we want to admit, continued to be an instrument of death.  And yet, from the cross Jesus prays on our behalf: “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing!”

Fortunately, that’s not the end of the story. The one who was crucified emerged from death’s grip. Violence did not have the last word. Hatred did not have the last word. Death did not win. But today, on this Friday that we call “Good,” I’m going to remain at the cross to ponder the question raised in the words of the Good Friday Solemn Reproaches:

 O my people, O my church, what more could I have done for you?
Answer me.