Saturday, 24 December 2016

The Light of Life faces our Deep Darkness

MATTHEW 27
Deep Darkness

Tomorrow we enter the deep mystery of the incarnation, the birth of Jesus. At the same time, we consider the deep mystery of the darkness, the extinguishing of the light. This penultimate blog has been written for Christmas Eve. And we will later this evening hear the nine lessons of the traditional carol service; whose climax is the first chapter of the Gospel of John.
What came into existence was Life,
    and the Life was Light to live by.
The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;
    the darkness couldn’t put it out.

The darkness did put it out, though. That is what Chapter 27 is all about. There is darkness all around. Judas realises he has betrayed innocence, and darkness descends upon him, a heaviness fills his soul and he takes his own life. Darkness descends upon Pilate, who, despite the warnings of his wife, ignores her night-time dream to ‘not get mixed up in judging this noble man’. He bows to mob rule and releases man with a dark heart, a convicted murderer, and sends Jesus to the cross. Yet more darkness shrouds Jesus as he is mocked and bullied and reviled by soldiers. These soldiers may well have been the sons of those, whose brute-minded kind had 30 years before ordered the slaughter of the innocents. And then, finally, for three hours, deep darkness broods over the whole world, we are told, as Jesus hangs on the cross and the Life-Light goes out.

The deepest darkness must have been reserved for Jesus as he experienced (and bore witness) the turmoil of utter abandonment. Mark and Matthew are alone in telling us of this dreadful groan from the depths of his being as he echoed the first lines of Psalm 22. This was the darkness of separation, total division between the Father and the Son. And ultimately this is what our sin is, it is what separates us: from God and from each other. Yet, in this upside down kingdom of the Great Reversal, it was by entering into that deep darkness of the abandonment, that we believe humanity finds liberation and light. 

In Matthew's account, the depth of the darkness and the division is echoed in the very earth itself. His the only account which tells us of the earth-splitting response of creation itself as Jesus breathed his last - there was an earthquake. 

However, even as the temple curtain is torn in two, the darkness of Jesus’ death is accompanied by a prefiguring of his resurrection – again, only Matthew tells us that tombs were opened and believers resurrected at this moment. And as fear gripped everyone present, out of the darkness comes the voice of the Captain of the Guard, the representative of the dark powers of Rome and Jerusalem, who announces boldly – ‘this has to be the Son of God’.

So, even in the deepest darkness of the crucifixion and death of Jesus there are hints that this is not a full stop, but merely a coma; the candle has not gone out, it has simply, momentarily, lost its spark. And the powers of darkness – the high priests and Pharisees – as the sun goes down, are worried, that the Son may indeed rise. They remembered his prophesy that he would rise after three days, and so set a guard on the tomb.

As we wait for Christmas Day and the birth of the Saviour, we are left waiting by the tomb of Jesus. Today we sing:
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume,
Breathes of life of gathering gloom,
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.

But later on tomorrow we will add:
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice,
Alleluia, Alleluia,
Earth to Heaven replies.

And tomorrow, Christmas Day, will be his dancing day.



2 comments:

  1. I agree with MMJ's comment yesterday how strangely profound it is reading the passion narrative on the brink of celebrating Christmas. Today's main blog helps give much insight to this, with faith's combination of darkness and light, deep sorrow and abundant joy. As I lay awake during last night, praying for those I know to be in distress, my husband was singing repeatedly in his sleep "Tomorrow shall be my dancing day". The song of hope, accompanying my fears, was unending!

    It is Joseph of Arimathea who has captured my thoughts today. He is another example of quiet devotion and love for Jesus. His understated care for Jesus, his generosity, his desire to give Jesus dignity in death, his humble compassion, are all what it means to be a disciple without show or clamour of attention, unlike the Pharisees and all those woes we read back in Chapter 23.

    And so Jesus lies in the tomb, silent, waiting to be brought to new birth through the resurrection.
    Today we wait for the birth of Jesus. Can we find some moments of silence for the power of God to bring us new birth?

    "How silently, how silently,
    the wondrous gift is given".

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  2. Why didn't Jesus speak when he was questioned? Was he too exhausted? Beyond caring? Resigned to his destiny? I always wonder how he could remain so silent. Anyone else would have said something.

    According to Bishop, he might have said,
    "" You have tried me at night, and the law forbids it... You cannot adjudge guilt in a capital case on the same day on which evidence is heard. " He might have even said, " Without my words, without my admission that the Father has indeed sent me to you, you would have no case against me.""

    As for Judas, surely he took his life because he regretted his actions. I wish over and over that he had asked for forgiveness , that he had had the courage to face Jesus. Or was it too late for him? Had he had his chance and lost it all? Mathew 12 says

    "And so I tell you, every kind of sin and slander can be forgiven, but blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven."

    Jesus also says,
    "But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born."

    Was the difference between Peter's attitude and that of Judas, that Peter knew that Jesus was the Messiah, but Judas merely saw him as a righteous man betrayed for the price of a slave? Peter turned back to Jesus, but Judas saw no way out.

    I watched a programme on Good Friday that suggests that maybe there was hope for Judas.

    I pray for all those who feel so hopeless that they feel life is not worth living. I also pray for those whose families have been affected by this. May the light of Jesus shine in them and may his comfort hold them close to him.

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