Black
Tonight
is the funeral of our Lord. And so tonight
is not really supposed to be “happy” or upbeat.
Tonight is supposed to be a little bit more somber, a little quieter, a
little darker. That’s the reason for the
color of the paraments tonight; they are black for a reason. In fact, this is the only worship service in
the entire church year that black paraments are used on the altar. There is no other time you will see
these. It’s the funeral of our Lord,
after all. During the days of the early
Christian Church almost 1700 years ago, the believers of that time took it even
farther: they covered every cross in
the church with black cloth; they extinguished every candle; and they didn’t
sing a single hymn. In place of the
normal music of their regular worship services they repeated the penitential
psalms on Good Friday - psalms that speak about our sins and our desperate need
for God’s forgiveness. It was a much
different kind of worship than what they were used to throughout the rest of
the year. It was the funeral of their
Lord, after all.
We Look Away
from the Wound
Is that
the attitude you came here with this evening?
Did you come to church tonight feeling as if you were going to a funeral
of someone you really loved? And I don’t
mean that you should have been crying as you stepped through the doors or that
you should have felt completely empty and miserable all day long. But you are here in remembrance of the burial
of your God! You are here to look back
at how someone you deeply loved died in a very brutal way. You are here to review an execution of an
innocent man that was partly your fault.
What kind of attitude do you think you should have if you really are
here for those reasons? This is the
attitude the Lord predicted through the prophet Zechariah: “They will look on me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn
for him as one mourns for an only child, and grieve bitterly for him as one
grieves for a firstborn son.”
Grieving. Mourning. Sorrow.
After
the service this evening I’ll go home and enjoy the night for the next few
hours. Earlier today I didn’t do
anything out of the ordinary other than make the final preparations for this
worship service. Tomorrow I will hardly
even think about what we are doing right now as I get ready for Sunday morning. What I’m getting at is that I usually don’t
“mourn” over my crucified Lord on Good Friday.
I certainly don’t “grieve bitterly for him as one grieves for a
firstborn son.” I can’t imagine being as
devastated or depressed on Good Friday evening as I would be if I had lost a
child... And that’s probably because I
know what’s going to happen on Sunday morning!
And so I tend to look past the darkness of Christ’s death and start
looking forward to the bright dawn of his resurrection. I don’t let myself get too sad. I don’t allow myself to feel too
depressed. I’d rather dwell on the good
things and the nice things and the happy things tonight. Not the sad and the bad and the awful.
Look Closely on
the Gouge
And I
don’t know if you are like me and are inclined to look past the Lord’s death and
go straight to his resurrection, but if so, maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to
make that mental jump from Friday evening to Sunday morning. It’s probably healthy for us to gaze at that
gouge in his side for a moment, to stare at that stab wound. Because that is the proof that our God had
died. That is the visual evidence
attested to by the soldier whose spear it was that struck him, indicating that
Jesus was no longer a living breathing human being, but dead in every way. It’s good for us to pause at this moment of
Jesus’ death because we are responsible for that! We are the reason why Jesus’ body was split
open and blood and water poured out of his corpse. We brought this on him. We contributed to the intense suffering he
had to endure. Let’s not forget
that! Let’s not look past that to
something a little less convicting! We
need to stare at that wound for a second!
We need to be fully aware of who we are and what we have done. And although we are reminded about our
sinfulness in every regular worship service, the night we commemorate Jesus’
crucifixion makes it crystal clear.
There is no escaping our spiritual ugliness when that open wound is
staring us in the face. And so we may
not be outwardly sobbing tonight, but inwardly mourning is appropriate. We might not be physically crying this
evening, but grieving bitterly in our hearts because of what we put Jesus
through isn’t out of the question. This
is the funeral of our Lord after all.
Don’t Take Your
Eyes Off of That Blood
At any
Christian funeral the feeling is always a little bitter-sweet, isn’t it? Bitter because those of us still left behind
miss the loved one now gone. Sweet
because we know that Christian has reached the goal of their faith and is now in
heaven where we will meet up with them once again. So too this funeral of our Lord is
bitter-sweet. Bitter because of our
sins; sweet because of our salvation.
And that’s just one more reason to linger a while here at the foot of
Jesus’ cross before peeking into the cavern of that Sunday morning cave. Because in that gouge and that blood and that
water is where our salvation was won. It
wasn’t won when Peter and John saw the empty burial clothes lying in the tomb;
it was proved there. It wasn’t won when
those angels appeared to the women on Easter morning; it was proclaimed
there. It wasn’t even won at that moment
when Jesus was physically made alive again by his Father; our salvation was
guaranteed there. Instead, tonight is
where our salvation was earned: in the piercing of his side, in the gouge, in the
gash, in the blood, in the water, in his death.
This is the moment our sins were forgiven. This is the event that gained our
forgiveness. Let’s not leave too
soon! Let’s not move on as if we are
just passing through on a quick tour of Holy Week. Because no matter how unpleasant and
disturbing the death of our Lord can be, it’s something we need to see. Yes, his death is depressing, but it’s also
the day of our deliverance. This is the
evening of our victory.
Tomorrow
morning when we wake up, it’ll probably feel like any other normal Saturday
morning. Expect, of course, we’ll be
right in between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.
The black paraments will be taken down and white paraments will be put
up. The Lent banners will be put away
and new Easter banners will be hung.
Evening services will be done with until Advent season starts at the end
of this calendar year. And the one and
only early morning breakfast we have here at church will be in the final stages
of preparation. And I’m sure that most
of you are looking forward to these changes.
And you should be! Easter is a
grand celebration! But as you get ready
for Easter Sunday morning and when you find yourself in the middle of that
wonderful festival enjoying the sunrise and the Hallelujahs and the white,
don’t forget about the black. When you
stand at the entrance to that empty tomb tomorrow, look back on the one we have
pierced. Because on Sunday morning,
he’ll still be “the one we have pierced.”
It’s just that the blood will be dried and the wounds will be clean and
the pain will be gone. But that gouge
will still be there in his side - reminding us of what he had to do to make
Easter Sunday so glorious. Don’t forget
tonight. Take the memory of this with
you - into Easter Sunday and for the rest of your life. Because this is the night of your
salvation. This is the night of your
forgiveness. This is a night worth
remembering. It’s the funeral of your
Lord, after all.
Amen.
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