The Barricades of the Ordinary

"The assault upon the goodness of God is made from the barricades of the ordinary." Bishop Hays Rockwell wrote those words about the Passion story, about the events of Jesus’ trial, crucifixion and death.

Perhaps you think of Holy Week as an extraordinary week. In some ways, it is unusual, out of the ordinary. Most Episcopalians, including clergy, don’t attend church every day during an ordinary week. But I have attended church at least once every day this week, as have some of you. That is extraordinary. But as we have come together in worship here throughout the week, our focus has been on the ordinary—the ordinary tasks and routines of daily lives. And we have sought to discover and rediscover the sacredness that fills these ordinary activities, activities like making the bed or getting dressed. We have meditated upon how God’s goodness accompanies us in our ordinary lives. [See Gunilla Norris’ book, Being Home.]

And now we hear this evening the passion story. And although we may think of this story as one of extraordinary and monumental proportions, it could be said that it is, in fact, a very ordinary, almost tawdry story. Bishop Rockwell describes the scenes of the passion as "despairingly ordinary." They portray "the brutality of men picking on one of their own kind." The soldiers are really no more than schoolyard bullies. There’s the "matter-of-fact little death march"—a few stragglers walking along dusty streets. They arrive at the "usual place for executions." We see "the sadistic delight of hangers-on and passers-by." Sadly, this story is all too commonplace, all too ordinary.

It’s a story driven by all too familiar characteristics of human life: relatively minor pride, casual brutality, the reflex for vengeance, the fear of truth. It is really a very ordinary story. It could happen any place, any day.

"The assault upon the goodness of God is made from the barricades of the ordinary."

So, as we come now to the climax of this Holy Week, it would seem the preacher’s task is to point out the sin and evil that are a part of our ordinary lives, and to highlight the mortal consequences of these seemingly venial transgressions. In the early days of this week we have looked for God’s grace in our ordinary, daily tasks and activities. Surely on this Good Friday we are charged to identify and acknowledge the vile human sins that are a part of our ordinary, daily tasks and activities and to hold ourselves accountable for Jesus’ presence on the cross. It was not someone other than us who was extraordinarily evil who crucified Jesus. It was normal, ordinary people, just like us, who condemned him to such a brutal, but common death. "The assault upon the goodness of God is made from the barricades of the ordinary." Shouldn’t that be the preacher’s title on this day?

That would actually be one of the easiest sermons to write and preach. I didn’t go back and check, but I expect I have preached it a time or two on Good Friday. It’s easy to come up with illustrations and examples of the sin that lurks in ordinary lives. It’s easy to make people feel in the pit of their stomachs the reality of their sinfulness. It’s easy to lead people into feeling bad about who they are and what they’ve done. Especially for those of us who are here in church standing at the foot of the cross today, it’s easy to persuade ourselves it’s our fault.

And it is. But there is another message in the passion story. It’s a harder message to preach, a harder message to convey, and a harder message to really accept, but I think it’s the most important message of Good Friday.

So let’s look again at some of the activities of our ordinary lives.

Making the bed, for example. How often are we tempted to leave it unmade or to just pull the comforter up over the tangled jumble of sheets and blankets beneath. It would be an easy sermon to preach to you how that hasty indifference towards bed making is an example of our sinful carelessness towards the underlying issues of life that matter most. Out of sight out of mind so often characterizes our attitude towards the wondrous and the horrific. It is easy to see the sin in our daily indifference, our daily cover up, "out of sight out of mind". It is easy to see the bad in our lives; it is hard to see the good. But God does. In the very midst of our ordinary, daily, careless indifference, God sees the good in us. And that’s why Jesus is on the cross. Not because we are bad, but because we are good.

Or how about the everyday activity of getting dressed? It would be easy to preach on how clothing represents our human need for status, our need to impress one another, our vanity, our greed. It is easy to find and feel sin in our bursting closets. It is not easy to see anything good in this sinful human pretense and posturing. But God does. God looks upon us as we are getting dressed in the morning, preening and posturing, and sees good. That’s why Jesus is on the cross. Because God sees the good in us.

Or think about those all too familiar, all too ordinary, figures who are the characters in the Passion story.

The soldiers. It is hard to see much good in the soldiers when they mock Jesus—mocking because they fear and do not understand, stealing his clothes like cowards after he is nailed to the cross. It is hard to see good in ourselves when fear and ignorance drive us to cruelty and hurt. It is hard for us to see the good in us, but God does.

It is hard to see the good in Herod and Pilate when they seem blown to and fro by ambition and political expediency. It is hard to see the good in us when ambition guides our daily lives. It is hard to see the good, but God does.

It is hard to see the good in Peter when he betrays his friend and Lord. It is hard to see the good in us when we betray those we love. It is hard to see the good in us when we betray our Lord over and over again in the ordinary and petty actions of our daily lives. It is hard for us to see the good in us… but God does.

It is easy to imagine our sins put Jesus on the cross. It is hard to imagine ourselves worth dying for. But that is why he’s there.

There’s a prayer that begins… "Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within your saving embrace…" That is why we call this Good Friday.

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