Good Friday – 2022
Marian Free
In the name of our vulnerable God. Amen.
About thirty years ago a young woman was abducted at knife point, taken to some bushland, violently raped and stabbed and left for dead. Fortunately, she survived and somehow made it to the nearby road where she was able to flag down a passing motorist. It is impossible to imagine her terror, her desperation, her humiliation, and her utter vulnerability as she stood, naked and bleeding by the side of the road.
Likewise, it is impossible to put ourselves into the mind of Jesus as his naked, bruised and bleeding body hung on the cross – stared at and jeered at by complete strangers. Nakedness is a tool used in a variety of circumstances to humiliate and denigrate another. Our clothing (however insubstantial) provides some sort of protection against the world. It gives us a sense that our inner most being is guarded from the gaze of the world. It allows us to feel that we are somehow in control of our lives and our bodies.
Jesus has not been in control since his arrest in the garden. He has been spat on, whipped, ridiculed. He has been forced to endure the shame of carrying his own cross from Pilate’s court to the place of execution and now he has been stripped naked before being lifted up in front of those who take ghoulish delight in the suffering of others. Not only has Jesus suffered the mortification of the trial, but he has also had to endure Judas’ treachery, the abandonment by his disciples, Peter’s denial and the crowds baying for his blood.
There are so many ways to think of Good Friday, so many lessons to learn. This year, I challenge you to remember that the Jesus who was so brutally slaughtered was not immune to suffering but was, like us – fully human. For him the pain – both physical and emotional was all too real. The lashes and the thorns tore his skin, the nails pierced his flesh and his bone and the struggle to draw breath was excruciating agony. (For it to be otherwise would be to make a mockery of the Incarnation.)
And yet Jesus, fully human, was also fully God. It was God on that cross – God completely naked, exposed, vulnerable and totally out of control.
God does not stand idly by as members of humankind debase and dehumanise those who are different. God does not turn a blind eye when some of God’s creation shore up their power by suppressing, imprisoning, and torturing those who show signs of opposition. God does not ignore the attempts (wittingly or unwittingly) of some to increase their wealth at the expense of others. God is not absent when acts of cruelty, sadism and indifference are perpetrated against the weak and vulnerable. God is there in their suffering – experiencing their pain, their helplessness, and their degradation. The God who hangs on the cross enters fully into the agony and the powerless of all who suffer.
As unspeakable horrors unfold in Ukraine, in Yemen and elsewhere, as refugees are vilified and imprisoned, as millions around the starve or are trafficked into slavery, it is easy to ask: “Where is God?”
God is wounded, bleeding and suffocating on the cross. And on the cross God will remain until we find the will to end our hunger for power, our desire to be in control, and our willingness to demonise those who do not conform to our expectations.
We, by our indifference and failure to act, put God on the cross. Do we have the will to do what it takes to bring God down?


