It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified [Jesus]. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” And with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also taunted him. When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Mark 15:25-34
Give: yourself to heartbreak
Sometimes joy is eclipsed. We began our journey into Lent on Ash Wednesday with this understanding. Sometimes we simply cannot sense joy’s presence. In the deepest pain, in the loneliest abandonment, in crushed hope, in dehumanizing cruelty, in utter forsakenness—joy is absent for us. We cannot find it. To pretend that it is there, to look for a silver lining, to try and avoid the overwhelming pain, is to lie. Call a thing what it is: from where humanity stands at the foot of the cross on Good Friday, there is no joy.
We know this is not the end of the story. We know that God has a different understanding of what is happening, even in this terrible hour. But don’t rush to the last page. Today, give yourself to this hard truth. Let your heart break for Jesus and for everywhere the cross finds an echo in our own time and place.