April 15, 2022 + Good Friday + Pr. Craig Mueller
I don’t usually think of wood as a primary symbol of our faith. But it is today. The wood of the cross.
What is your experience with wood? I had a bit of woodworking in a shop class when I was in seventh grade. I think of wood furniture I have. Or the wood of trees. Maybe some of you are woodworkers that we don’t know about.
The high point of today’s liturgy is when the cross is carried high and we sing: “Behold the life-giving cross on which was hung the salvation of the whole world.” Some traditions use the text, “Behold the wood of the cross.”
What does it mean to behold anyway? It seems like an old-fashioned word. I think of some Bible verses with it. “Behold, I bring you tidings of great joy.” (Think Linus and Christmas pageants.) But also: “Behold, I make all things new.” And: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”
But that gives away my age. A little digging revealed that our current bible translation doesn’t have any “behold’s.” They’re gone. “Behold” has become “see” or “look.” “See, I am bringing you news of great joy” “See, I am making all things new.” “Look, here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”
Whenever the New Testament uses words for “behold,” (150 times) it means pay attention, take heed. Or more literally: gaze, consider, regard. See, look deeply.
So, behold the readings for today with images of Christ as suffering servant, slain lamb, victorious warrior, helpless victim, high priest, incarnate God.
Consider John’s account of the passion. Jesus’ encounter with Pilate is a weird back and forth, in and out of the headquarters, a banter about truth. And whether Jesus is truly a king.
Pilate brings out Jesus and declares, in older translations, “behold the man.” And then, with great irony, “behold your king.” Gaze on him. In John’s telling, the crucified one is the king of glory. Look. His death is victory. See. His end is resurrection. Behold him.
At the cross Jesus forms a community of those who will keep his memory alive. “Behold your son,” Jesus says to his mother. “Behold you mother,” he says to the beloved disciple.
And as time goes by, the faithful honor the wood of the cross. It becomes for us the tree of life. As one blessing puts it, “the tree, once the source of shame and death for humankind, has become the cross of our redemption and life.” Listen to these words from the ninth century: “let all the trees of the forest sing a glad hymn, for on this day they behold one of themselves, the tree of the cross being honored with kisses and embraces.”
Or behold this blessing of a wood-lot. “Dear Lord Jesus, since you were nailed to the cross, wood has become a sacred thing. In every tree we are once more reminded of your great love for us. Bless these trees of ours; let them grow tall and strong . . . May they always be a reminder to us of your glorious passion and death.”
Now consider Matthew Shepard. Remember one definition of “behold” is “consider.” Matthew was a 21-year old gay college student at the University of Wyoming. He was brutally murdered in 1998. The crime is horrific, like a modern-day crucifixion. His murderers lure him into their truck, and lead him to the outskirts of Laramie. There they rob him, beat him with a pistol, and tie to him to wooden fence. And leave him to die.
The musical work, Considering Matthew Shepard, will be performed in Lakeview two weeks from today. The composer, Craig Hella Johnson, loosely models the work on a Bach passion. In other words, a suffering story. Johnson does not directly relate Shepard’s death to Christ, but there are similarities. Hatred is spewed forth. There is an ugly death scene. Matthew tied to a wooden fence. Jesus nailed to a wooden cross.
What moves me in the work is the “character” of the fence that holds Matthew the night he dies. The fence is praised, in the words of Hildegard of Bingen, as a “most noble evergreen,” a beautiful tree.
As the years go by, people come to the wooden fence to pay homage and to grieve. Some take a piece of the fence, like a relic, like an icon. Not at all different than the way the cross was seen years after Jesus’ death.
The suffering story of Matthew is tragic. But Considering Matthew Shepard ends with gratitude for the gift of life and the beauty of life. As the chorus sings, “I walk to the fence with beauty before me. I walk to the fence with beauty behind me. I walk to the fence with beauty above me. I walk to the fence with beauty below me.”
And then the entire work ends with great hope for a better world. “Meet me here where the old fence ends and the horizon begins. . . This evergreen, this heart, this soul, now bids us to remake our world . . . Only in the Love that lifts us up.”
This day we behold the wood of the cross. We gaze upon the One whose suffering brings hope to our dying world. We behold the suffering of those in Ukraine. We behold those suffering in our city. We behold all those with broken hearts, broken bodies, troubled spirits.
And we stream to the wooden cross. To gaze. To consider. To reflect. To touch. To pause. To receive. To find hope for tomorrow. To take in the mystery of death and resurrection.
Behold the wood of the cross. Truly, a wonder to behold.
