Mary's Crucifixion

Sermon | Good Friday | 18th March 2025

I wonder how Mary felt...

In the name of the...

There’s a strange feeling in the air. It’s still. It’s quiet. Eerie.

The crowds are subsiding. Returning to their homes, their work, their preparations. Life continues as normal.

Tomorrow will be the sabbath. After that all this will be forgotten. He will be forgotten.

I hear them talking as they leave. Their voices drifting away on the breeze. Already forgetting what has just happened. But - how can they?

They placed him in my arms. As they took him down from the cross. A moment together before they carried him away.

My son.

There is this emptiness. This chasm. Never have I felt so far… so far from God. And so alone.

It is finished.

Those words hang in the air.

It. Is. Finished.

Is that really the end?

Only Mary Magdalene and John remain with me now. Where are the rest of his disciples? Those who responded to his invitation 3 years ago. Where are they now? Scattered? Hiding? Afraid?

They abandoned him. Abandoned him when he needed them most. After all he had done for them.

Oh, how quickly the crowd turned against him. Those same people who welcomed him into Jerusalem, singing their Hosannas and waving their palm branches. How quickly they changed at the sign of trouble.

But, the disciples? They had been through so much. He told them. He told them what needed to happen. But they could not understand. Maybe in time they will?

This afternoon has been so long. From the moment we left Pilate’s court. To the moment we arrived here, on this hillside. A lot of time with my thoughts.

33 years. It’s 33 years since God sent Gabriel to me. 33 years since Gabriel told me I was to bear a son, and call him Jesus. 33 years since he told me that he would be holy, the Son of God, and that his kingdom would last forever. Well, where is that kingdom now? Where is his Father now? Abandoned him too in his hour of need. What sort of Father abandons a son. And now abandons me also.

I remember those early years well, almost as if they were yesterday. Visiting the Temple for the Purification. Those words that Simeon spoke to me. They’ve been ringing in my ears ever since.

‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’

The falling and rising of many. How many? How many could he possible have reached in those 33 years? Surely, surely, he should still be here. His time cannot be over. He certainly got one thing right, Simeon. A sword has pierced my soul. As that spear was driven into his side, so too was it driven through my heart. That place that has held so many happy moments. Those words and memories I kept there. Kept for comfort. Now splintered. Broken into a thousand pieces.

O God, my God, why have you forsaken us? Is this what you wanted to happen? Was this the plan all along? I do not, I cannot understand. Surely this is the end. The end of the journey? The end of the story?

O God, how will this day be remembered? The day that the authorities and rulers of this land won? The day when darkness triumphed over the light. How can this possibly be what you planned?

The more time I have to think, the more I’m reminded of the words of the prophet. Words from you God, that your servant shall prosper, shall be lifted up and shall be very high.

What else was it that the prophet said? No majesty, nothing in his appearance that would desire him. That he would be despised and rejected. A man of suffering. That is certainly true. He suffered. He suffered at the hands of those who first loved him. But why? Why was that the ending?

You led him like a lamb to the slaughter. Your own son. Your beloved.

And he went. Silently. Only a few words. He accepted his death. What was his crime? To love everyone equally. To spend time with those deemed wicked and sinners. To love those that you love. To love for you.

He died. He died for all of us. He died for love. Is that how he will be remembered? When today is over and the sabbath begins, when we return to our normal, everyday lives. When the silence and stillness has gone, and the noise of the world returns. Will his death be remembered as being for those of us left here? Because of our transgressions, our mistakes? In years to come, will people look at the cross, at this cross, and remember his sacrifice? Will they talk about how much he loved? How much he loved those that society failed to love? That society forgot to love. Will his death, this death, this cross, be a reminder for everyone to love, to love one another, to do good deeds. Will they meet together to remember him? Will they meet to share their stories? Will they strive to live their lives as he lived his? Will they?

Amen.