The Heart of darkness

The Heart of Darkness

Psalm 22

Mark 15.25-34

A Reflection

^{A Formidable Challenge}

The cross of Jesus stands without question as the most profound and challenging symbol of the Christian Faith. From Paul’s day to ours it has inspired confidence in God’s boundless love for us; yet it presents us with a formidable challenge. For it throws into bold relief the path that leads to fulfillment, a path that leads through suffering, a path that leads through the very heart of darkness to light.

The cross of Jesus; we are called to hear and accept its challenge, and to interpret its significance for our time. Yet this task becomes more daunting when we realize that the cross is laden with meaning for us as well as for Jesus. It of course symbolizes God’s redeeming action on our behalf, but it also provides a model of the way we are to live. Look closely, and we will find splinters in our hands. In our reflection this morning we will seek to discern the significance for our lives of Jesus’ anguished cry from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,”

From Golgotha to Mt. Zion

Of the seven last words attributed to Jesus on the cross, none rings so harshly on our ears as this one in which Jesus lashes out in anger at God “…why have you forsaken me,” questions God’s faithfulness and good will, or gives in at last to despair. Did he, could he, really believe himself abandoned; this one who, even while suspended from the cross, assured others of God’s constant and abiding care?  Could he really believe himself forsaken; this one who taught that the fate of the world itself is no more important in God’s eyes than the fate of one, solitary individual?  What, then, are we to make of this harsh, troubling saying?

At the very least this cry of agony indicates the reality of Jesus’ suffering. It reminds us that the cross was no divine charade in which the incarnate Christ only appeared to suffer. Quite the contrary, the cross points to God’s willingness to suffer – to descend even into the heart of darkness – in order to bring us hope. And suffer Jesus did. He was tried and convicted with such rapidity that his mind and spirit must have reeled in confusion.

He was abused, beaten, mocked, spat upon; actions that relegated him in his accuser’s eyes to something less than human. And he was nailed to a cross – suspended between heaven and earth – where he hung dying, rejected by humankind and seemingly abandoned by God. In the grip of such intense abuse and suffering, how could Jesus not feel abandoned, even by God? On the verge of death, staring into the very heart of darkness, where could he find evidence of grace, love, or compassion? And so, he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Michael – a man I know well, yet a man who could be anyone – tasted something of suffering’s reality and Jesus’ feelings of abandonment on the day he was called to his father’s deathbed. He had been working at his desk, he recalls, harried by a rapidly approaching deadline when he received the long expected phone call.  “Dad can’t last more than a few days,” his brother blurted out awkwardly, “so you had better take the next flight home.”

Upon his arrival, Michael of course went straight to the hospital, Mt. Zion Medical Center; and straight to his father’s side. He was past conscious recognition of his son and lay ravaged by a cancerous tumor and racked with pain. “I’m here, dad, it’s Mike,” he said with mock confidence that his presence would make any difference. Michael greeted his brothers and sisters who had stood vigil at the hospital for days on end and, noting their grief and fatigue, suggested they go home for some much needed rest. “I will stay here with dad,” he said, “and watch through the night.”

And so, Michael sat into the night alone, the quiet disturbed only by the sound of his father writhing in pain, trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position.  After some time, his father ceased writhing and his breathing became more regular, a sign to Michael that he was resting comfortably. Consoled and himself fatigued, Michael relaxed his attention and settled back in his chair.

While rehearsing cherished memories of his dad and praying, constantly praying for his wholeness, Michael became aware that his father’s breathing was becoming softer and shallower. Then came the moment for which he had long prepared but for which he was not, nor would ever be, ready. Even as a nurse burst into the room it hit him, “dad is not resting comfortably, …my daddy is dying.” He rose frantically to the bedside to observe the actions of the nurse, waiting for her verdict. “I’m sorry,” she said with simplicity and finality, “at least he didn’t die alone.”

Alone; Michael felt it deep within his spirit. At that moment, seized by grief and sorrow at his father’s death, Michael’s legs gave way and he fell to the floor feeling alone, utterly alone. And he would have been justified to express the sentiment of his heart at that moment, a sentiment laced with both anger and fear, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”

A stranger passing in the hallway might have taken in at a glance the significance of this scene and, noticing Michael kneeling as if in prayer, scoffed in cynicism.  “Pray all you want, God won’t hear you.”

A stranger might have scoffed at Michael, much like the accusers and executioners of Jesus swarming around his cross. “Hail, King of the Jews!” they mocked. They shook their heads and derided him, “…save yourself, come down from the cross.”  With their mockery they underscored the tragedy of the situation: Jesus was beyond help. With their scorn and cynicism, they implied that God had neither the will nor the means to end his suffering. “God does not hear your cry,” they might well have mocked, “for God’s face is hidden from you.”

From their perspective Jesus demonstrated good sense in lashing out at God in anger; for, indeed, what else was left to him? But they were deceived by appearances, for there was more in Jesus’ cry than an expression of anguish, however real; these words from the cross were a direct quote from Psalm 22, a psalm of David. With these words we are reminded that another, perhaps David himself, once stood staring into the heart of darkness, alone; that another was despised, rejected, and mocked; and that another’s clothing was divided by casting lots.

Despite being seized by suffering beyond description, however, and despite crying out in despair, “My God… why have you forsaken me,” David was not forsaken by God; rather, God heard his cry and rescued him. “… [God] did not hide his face from me,” he exclaims in wonder and amazement, “but heard when I cried to him.”

As it was with David, Mark assures us, despite all appearance to the contrary, so it was with this Jesus, the Son of David. For his fate is reflected more clearly in the psalm quoted from the cross than in the apparent circumstances of his death.

Thus, although he justly felt abandoned in his suffering, he was not. Although he endured suffering beyond description, God’s face was not hidden from him; rather, God endured his suffering only to redeem it in love. If Jesus on the cross appeared to be alone, rejected, and defeated, this was the charade; for God was there to rescue him and redeem his suffering.

A Morning of Courage and Hope

A stranger might have scoffed at Michael as he knelt by his father’s deathbed, seemingly alone in his grief and agony. But if we may believe Mark’s portrayal of the cross and its significance, the stranger would be deceived. For despite all appearance to the contrary, Michael was not alone. God’s face was not hidden from him; God walked with him into the heart of his darkness, seeking to see him through to a morning of courage and hope.

Despite all appearance to the contrary, and here is the good news, no one need walk alone through times of suffering. While it is true that the path to fulfillment leads not around but through suffering, it is equally true that God accompanies us each step of the way, seeking to lead us through the heart of darkness to a morning of light and hope.