CHRIST'S 7 LAST WORDS - Your Guide to Spiritual Growth

A Now You Know Media Course Study Guide

CHRIST’S 7 LAST WORDS Your Guide to Spiritual Growth

By Sr. Laurie Brink, O.P., Ph.D.

Christ’s 7 Last Words: Your Guide to Spiritual Growth

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INTRODUCTION What were Jesus’ final seven statements on the cross? How do they speak to your life today?

In this audio retreat, award-winning New Testament Professor Sr. Laurie Brink, O.P., Ph.D., shows you how to lift Jesus’ last words off the pages of Scripture and inscribe them onto your own life. An engaging retreat leader, Sr. Brink imparts wisdom that will uplift and edify your spirit.

As you will learn, perspective changes everything. The notion of a “standpoint,” for instance, recalls how your point of view physically changes as you move your feet. For example, if you’re facing the sun in the late afternoon, you won’t see the long shadow you cast. But if you put the sun at your back, you’ll see your shadow stretch out before you.

Before Easter—that is, before the resurrection—those who observed Jesus’ crucifixion saw a long shadow. Mary, mother of Jesus, and the disciples saw his lifeless body hanging on the cross and mourned his death. Then everything changed. Listen to how Paul interprets the crucifixion after Easter. In 1 Corinthians, we hear him say, “But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Cor 15:20). From where Paul stood, only the warm rays of the sun were visible.

As you pray along with Christ’s 7 Last Words: Your Guide to Spiritual Growth, you’ll practice changing your perspective in a similar manner. Sr. Brink employs the metaphor of trifocals: First, you’ll peer into the evangelists’ distinct narratives. Second, you’ll turn your gaze inwards at your own experience. In other words, “What is Jesus saying to me?” Third, you’ll glance up—with, as Sr. Brink says, “a great deal of hubris”—imagining how Christ’s words might be seen from God’s vantage point.

Divided into seven parts, this retreat invites you to ponder each of Jesus’ seven statements from the cross over the course of a week. The accompanying written guide rounds out the retreat experience with in-depth lecture outlines and notes.

As you take turns viewing Jesus’ ultimate words, you will experience new heights and depths of feeling in your annual recital of the Easter story.


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SISTER LAURIE BRINK, O.P., PH.D. Laurie Brink, O.P., Ph.D., is Professor of New Testament Studies at Catholic Theological Union and Dominican Sister of Sinsinawa. She is an expert on biblical studies, particularly contextualization and hermeneutics. As a Dominican, she is active in promoting biblical literacy. To that end, she has given presentations and workshops throughout the United States and in Australia, Bolivia, Jamaica, the Philippines, and Trinidad & Tobago. Sr. Brink has an MA from Maryknoll School of Theology and a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago.


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LECTURE 1 THE FIRST WORD: “FATHER, FORGIVE THEM, THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO” (LUKE 23:34)

SUMMARY

Let me set the narrative scene. As the evangelist Luke tells it, after Pilate has him flogged, Jesus is led through the streets of Jerusalem. Ordinarily the prisoner would carry his own cross beam to the area of execution. Perhaps Jesus is too weak from the flogging, because we learn that Simon the Cyrenian, an African Jew visiting Jerusalem, is impressed into service. He is made to carry the cross of Jesus. We read:

33 When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him and the criminals

there, one on his right, the other on his left. 34 [Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them,

they know not what they do.”] They divided his garments by casting lots. 35 The people

stood by and watched; the rulers, meanwhile, sneered at him and said, “He saved

others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Messiah of God.” 36 Even the

soldiers jeered at him. (Luke 23:33-36 NAB)

Throughout Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is portrayed in prayer, particularly at significant moments

in his life—at the baptism, at the Transfiguration, in the garden of Gethsemane. And now on the cross, Jesus prays to his father. A prayer of petition, not for himself, but for “them” that they might be forgiven. Who are the “they” for whom Jesus prays? The women of Jerusalem weeping and mourning as he walked the way of the cross? The soldiers who hung him and divided his clothes? The thieves dying on his right and his left? All those who stopped to watch as these men slowly suffocated and succumbed to exsanguination. The narrative doesn’t specify. But it’s a question that we can take up in our own reflection. Through our personal lens, who might we see as the “they” for whom Jesus prays? Or better yet, who is the “they” for whom we ought to pray? Who are those who have mocked us or metaphorically stripped us bear? Who have chided us? Or lumped us into a group of “those people”? Who has watched as we suffered or stumbled or failed? Can we say, like Jesus, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?” “What? How did this become about me?” you might ask. As Paul reminds us, it’s always been about us. “For you Christ died! And was been raised.” So let’s pause and think of those for whom we should pray: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And there you have it. In that moment of forgiveness, we see through God’s eyes. This Jesus, son of God—in the moment that would put to the test all that he has preached—stands firm. To the bitter end, Jesus has remained faithful to his mission.


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Throughout the gospels, Jesus makes it abundantly clear that love of God and love of neighbor are two sides of the same coin. And neighbor is not just those next door. Or those who look like you or speak like you do. Yes, even on the cross, Jesus begs for forgiveness for those who brought him to this agonizing moment. It’s one thing to sit on a mountain and extoll, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” It’s quite another to do so with your dying breath.

At the Transfiguration, the voice from heaven had announced, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” We are left to imagine that on that fateful day, as the beloved Son hung between heaven and earth, an echo of the Father rang out: Listen to him.


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LECTURE 2 THE SECOND WORD: “AMEN, I SAY TO YOU, TODAY YOU WILL BE WITH ME IN PARADISE” (LUKE 23:43)

SUMMARY

We need a bit of a wide-angle lens to view the scene portrayed in this second word from the Cross. Though this statement comes from Luke’s account of the Crucifixion if we look more broadly at Mark and John’s Passion accounts we get a fuller picture. Jesus is crucified between two others. In the fourth century non-canonical gospel known as the Gospel of Nicodemus, these two are given names. Dismas is the “good thief” and Gestas is the other. But Luke doesn’t name them. He calls these two “evildoers” or “criminals.” The Greek term has a moral connotation. Luke means for us to see these two as morally corrupt people. But just because someone has bad morals doesn’t mean they deserve death.

And so we turn to Mark whose terminology helps us understand why these two would be subject to crucifixion. He names them not as “criminals” but as “bandits” or “revolutionaries”—those who seize others property through violence. The same term is used to describe Barabbas (John 18:40). Other Jewish rebels had attempted unsuccessfully to overturn Roman rule, so Rome was particular heavy-handed with insurrectionists. While our two “criminals” may have been morally-suspect as Luke proposes, they most certainly had done something to provoke the Roman officials in Judea.

Crucifixion was a mode of punishment reserved for the most heinous of crimes against the state. In John’s Gospel, the religious leaders advocating for Jesus’ death argued, “Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar.” Such an action was treasonous and that justified crucifixion. The title placed above Jesus announces what he did to deserve this ultimate Roman punishment: “This is the King of the Jews.”

Only Luke tells us of Jesus’ personal encounter with these men. We read:

39 Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the

Messiah? Save yourself and us.” 40 The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply,

“Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? 41 And

indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our

crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.” 42 Then he said, “Jesus, remember me

when you come into your kingdom.” 43 He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today

you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:39-43 NAB)

This is the story of honest self-critique that leads to insight. Perhaps that’s why Luke prefers a term that draws out the moral character of the men. One joins in on haranguing the beleaguered Jesus. To the end, he remains unrepentant and therefore never truly recognizes Jesus. But the other one who


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shares the same fate sees the scene quite differently. “Have you no fear of God?” he rebukes the man. And then admits his own crime, “We have been condemned justly.” As Herod and Pilate had stated earlier, now the prisoner beside Jesus announces, “this man has done nothing criminal.” And even more surprising, he recognizes Jesus’ true identity. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” This truly is the King of the Jews. What happens next is astounding. While the disciples were all invited to be with Jesus during his earthly ministry of preaching and teaching, this repentant criminal, it is this morally corrupt man, who is given the privilege of being with Jesus in heaven. “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” From our vantage, how does this story play out? I daresay, we don’t want to identify with the unrepentant thief. We don’t want to think that if we had a similar opportunity to defend Jesus, we wouldn’t step up to the plate. Or worse, join in disparaging him. We don’t want to look at our own actions and the events in our lives and wonder if we missed a chance to defend the Gospel. We don’t want to remember that off color joke we told or the time we didn’t defend a colleague’s reputation. We’re not insurrectionists. Not us. I think we’d want to be the good thief. But the only difference between him and the other one is an honest self-critique. As he said, he was justly condemned. He had been a bad person, had broken laws, engaged in violence. His punishment fit his crime. He doesn’t really repent. He says, “I did these things. I deserve this punishment.” It was only when he comes clean, sort to speak, that he is able to recognize who he is and more importantly who Jesus is to him. And in that moment, he can dare to ask Jesus for a place at his heavenly table. Perhaps the same is true for us. Repentance doesn’t proceed self-examination. It emerges from it. And with a humble self-assessment, we, too, could find our own place at Jesus’ table. From God’s vantage that has always been the goal. The welcoming of the sinner, the seeking the lost, the cleansing those sullied by sin. We need only listen to Mary’s Magnficat: His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him. (Luke 1:50 NAB). Or the canticle of Zechariah, "Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, for he has visited and brought redemption to his people. (Luke 1:68 NAB). But mercy and redemption must first be received. Jesus predicts the destruction of Jerusalem, “because you did not recognize the time of your visitation” (Luke 19:44). The invitation is always being extended, but not everyone accepts.

Even on the Cross, Jesus did not give up hope that we could be brought back to God. Even before Easter, the cross is victorious in God’s eyes, for it gave the good thief an opportunity to see himself honestly and accept the loving gaze of God in return. The same awaits us.


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LECTURE 3 THE THIRD WORD: “WOMAN, BEHOLD YOUR SON” (JOHN 19:26)

SUMMARY

All the Gospels narrate that the women followers of Jesus witnessed his execution, but only the Gospel of John clearly identifies that Jesus’ mother is among them. “But standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene” (John 19:25). We might ponder: how does the crucifixion of Jesus look through his mother’s eyes?

Hard it is for us to imagine the suffering, the pain, the seeming cruelty of it all. We wear crosses around our neck as jewelry. We bless ourselves with the sign of the cross. We hang crucifixes on our walls. We have totally lost the sense of the horror. Imagine hanging a noose on your wall or putting a gold noose on a chain and wearing it around your neck. That’s repulsive. So was the crucifixion. And watching it all is his mother.

Pilate had a sign placed above Jesus that read “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews. “Many of the Jews read this title, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek (John 19:20).”

If she could read, would Mary have affirmed this title? Yes, Jesus of Nazareth, she could acknowledge, and a flood of memories would overwhelm her. The majority of Jesus’ life (John’s Gospel suggests at least 27 years) would have been spent in Nazareth and its environs. But “King of the Jews”—that was the accusation labeled against her son. Never in the Gospel accounts does Jesus claim the title for himself. Starring up at a sign she can barely read and hardly understand, Mary would see only “Jesus, my son, a victim.”

26 When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to

his mother, "Woman, behold, your son!" 27 Then he said to the disciple, "Behold, your

mother!" (John 19:26-27).

The encounter between Jesus and his mother is heart-breaking and tender. But one of the more unsettling aspects of John’s presentation of the mother of Jesus is that the evangelist never uses her name. When she asks Jesus to intervene at the Wedding Feast of Cana, Jesus responds: "O woman, what have you to do with me? My hour has not yet come (John 2:4).” Now at the cross, Jesus again calls her “Woman.” I can only imagine what my mother would have done had I addressed her as “Woman!” Noted biblical scholar, Father Raymond Brown proposed that this was Jesus’ polite term for addressing women as evident elsewhere in the gospels.

Whatever Jesus’ intent, we are struck at the distance the word creates. He does not use a term of endearment or of personal relationship. Rather, he identifies her by her biology: woman. And by doing so, Jesus has opened up the possibility for all women (and I would argue men as well) to find their place in this encounter. Those who stand on the verge of absolute grief, seemingly


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unredeemable suffering, and facing an uncertain and frightening future are themselves standing as “Woman” or “Man” at the foot of his cross. “Behold, your son” (John 19:26). Jesus is not being self-referential. He is giving his mother a new son. And to this disciple whom Jesus loved, he is giving a new mother. New relationships are born from the experience of grief. Mary does not cease to be a mother at the death of her son, Jesus. But she must now learn to be “mother” and “woman” in a new way.

After Jesus’ death, all our gospel accounts are silent about Mary. She will be numbered among the disciples in the upper room in Acts 1:14, but of her immediate whereabouts in those days after his death, we hear nothing. We may imagine that the beloved disciple cared for her. But as we view Jesus’ death through her eyes, we should remember that this side of Easter, Mary could not have anticipated the resurrection.

To bequeath to the mother of Jesus a cognition of God’s ultimate plan is to rob her of her mourning. The woman at the foot of the cross is truly grieving.

How do we even attempt to enter into this scene? With what part do we identify? The pain of the son dying on the cross or his anguish at seeing his mother’s own grief? As a parent, are we overwhelmed by our child’s suffering? What about the beloved disciple—the only disciple who remains with Jesus even to his death? Are we blessed or burdened by the trust given us by Jesus—the care of his mother?

And all of this must break the heart of God because it is not just his son who suffers, it is also Mary, God’s faithful servant, Mary, theotokos—God bearer—who now must bear a godly grief. Sure, God knows the end of the story. Easter is coming. But foresight doesn’t dismiss the real pain of suffering now, in real time.

And in that moment, we see through God’s eyes. We see that all grief and suffering break the heart of God. The anguish of Syrian mothers cradling their starving children. The devastation of people whose homes and livelihoods are lost to natural disasters. The cry of Earth drowned out by false science and nay-sayers. The God who chose incarnation does not stand outside our humanity, but intimately kneels with us at the altar of our grief.


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LECTURE 4 THE FOURTH WORD: “MY GOD, MY GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?” (MARK 15:34)

SUMMARY

Before we can ponder this fourth word from the Cross, which comes from the Gospel of Mark, we need necessarily know a little something about the evangelist’s motivation—well at least as much as we can know from reading his Gospel. See, Mark doesn’t intend to paint an idyllic picture of Jesus, a savior riding in on God’s white horse, sort to speak.

Mark presents a portrait of Jesus with whom his community can identify. A community that has likely suffered persecution and had its members martyred. Mark’s Messiah is the very incarnation of Isaiah’s suffering servant. Given his community’s experience, no wonder Mark spends a great deal of time on the Passion, and he is at pains to paint the agony of the cross. We read:

Those who were crucified with him also reviled him. 33 And when the sixth hour had

come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. 34 And at the ninth

hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” which means, “My

God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” 35 And some of the bystanders hearing it

said, “Behold, he is calling Elijah.” 36 And one ran and, filling a sponge full of

vinegar, put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether

Elijah will come to take him down.” 37 And Jesus uttered a loud cry, and breathed his

last (Mark 15:32-37).

We hear the cry from the cross as one of abandonment. “Why have you forsaken me?” Perhaps Jesus meant that literally. Perhaps he felt that his Father who had so directed, encouraged, empowered him had suddenly abandoned him when Jesus needed God the most. We can hardly imagine how Jesus’ lament echoes to the heavens. How might God, the Father, have received the cries of this broken son of his?

But just as likely, Jesus is reciting the opening verse of Psalm 22: 1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? 2 O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.

This is a psalm familiar to the bystanders, so they would have known that though it begins with a complaint, the psalm finishes by acknowledging God’s faithfulness.

3 Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. 4 In you our ancestors trusted;


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they trusted, and you delivered them. 5 To you they cried, and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame.

Let’s read Psalm 22 and see how it mirrors Jesus’ own experience. In verse 6, we hear: 6 But I am a worm, and not human; scorned by others, and despised by the people. 7 All who see me mock at me; they make mouths at me, they shake their heads; 8 “Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver— let him rescue the one in whom he delights!”

Sound familiar? It is a psalm that traces the very beginnings of God’s personal fidelity. 9 Yet it was you who took me from the womb; you kept me safe on my mother’s breast. 10 On you I was cast from my birth, and since my mother bore me you have been my God.

While Jesus only intones the psalm’s first verse, he knows well how it ends: 24 For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted; he did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him. 25 From you comes my praise in the great congregation; my vows I will pay before those who fear him.

The psalm’s conclusion reads as a direct address to Mark’s own community: 27 All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord; and all the families of the nations shall worship before him. 29 To him, indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down; before him shall bow all who go down to the dust, and I shall live for him. 30 Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord, 31 and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn, saying that he has done it.

In reciting one verse, Jesus is recalling the whole of Psalm 22, a psalm of suffering and torment, but also of trust and triumph. “For dominion belongs to the Lord…I shall live for him.”

All is not as it seems. The cross is both suffering and exaltation. Even before Easter, Jesus never loses confidence in God’s faithfulness. But that’s Jesus, and, we’re not Jesus. Even on our best days. So how do we turn from lament to praise? How do we bear our crosses, as the saying goes, and not be buried by its weight?

Perhaps Jesus has given us the answer. Perhaps the invocation of that one line is meant as a signpost for the rest of us. “Don’t turn away, turn toward.” Look at Scripture. See how our


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ancestors in the faith time and time again have suffered slavery, exile, destruction only to be exalted by God. All those stories can’t be wrong.

The psalms of lament and praise are the cries and struggles and survivals of real people with real problems in real historical moments that happened…just a long time ago. From the cross, Jesus is offering us a way forward, a reminder that like Jesus, our momentary sense of abandonment can be suffused with hope. “My God, my God, you have not abandoned me!”


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LECTURE 5

THE FIFTH WORD: “I THIRST” (JOHN 19:28)

SUMMARY

Of all our evangelists, John likely had access to direct information from an actual disciple of Jesus. We know him only as “the beloved disciple.” And we know he was at the foot of the cross. Perhaps that’s why the Passion narrated in John seems even more dramatic and visceral.

But like all of John’s Gospel, we should read this scene on both the narrative and symbolic levels.

After this, aware that everything was now finished, in order that the scripture might be

fulfilled, Jesus said, "I thirst." 29 There was a vessel filled with common wine. So they

put a sponge soaked in wine on a sprig of hyssop and put it up to his mouth. (John

19:28-29 NAB)

What Scripture is being fulfilled? Perhaps the Johnannine Jesus is referencing Psalm 69:

Insult has broken my heart, and I despair; I looked for compassion, but there was

none, for comforters, but found none. 22 Instead they gave me poison for my food; and for

my thirst they gave me vinegar. (Ps. 69:21-22 NAB)

Or just as likely it could be Psalm 22:

15 Like water my life drains away; all my bones are disjointed. My heart has become

like wax, it melts away within me. 16 As dry as a potsherd is my throat; my tongue

cleaves to my palate; you lay me in the dust of death. 17 Dogs surround me; a pack of

evildoers closes in on me. They have pierced my hands and my feet (Ps. 22:14 NAB)

But even if we only look within John’s Gospel itself, we see that Jesus has a great deal to say about quenching thirst:

• At Cana he turns water into wine as the first sign of his true identity.

• At the well in Samaria, Jesus offers the woman “water welling up for eternal life.”

• And perhaps most dramatically, “On the last and greatest day of the feast, Jesus stood up and exclaimed, ‘Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as scripture says: ‘Rivers of living water will flow from within him’” (John 7:38 NAB). Jesus identifies himself as the source of living water.


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But only in the encounter with the Samaritan woman do we see Jesus thirsty. He asks the woman at the well for a drink, but she hesitates. “Why is this Jewish man asking me, a Samaritan, and a woman at that, for a drink?” To which he responds: “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water” (John 4:1 NAB). And now on the cross, Jesus again asks for a drink. “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

Those surrounding him do not know who he is. Instead, they place a sponge on a hyssop branch and raise it to his mouth. Mark describes it as a reed, something with more substance that could hold up a soaked sponge. But John identifies it as a sprig of hyssop, the same plant that is mentioned in Exodus. On the night of Passover, it was used to mark the doorposts of the Hebrews with blood from the slaughter lamb. Throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus has been presented as the very incarnation of God. “And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14 NAB). Jesus’ thirst confirms that he is truly “of the flesh.”

But Jesus is also the lamb of God identified by John the Baptist, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). And Jesus is put to death on the day of preparation—the day the pascal lambs are slaughtered. In this one scene, Jesus is both a fragile human being and the lamb of God led to slaughter. But lest we think the Johannine Jesus is merely a victim, we are called to remember Jesus’ own words:

This is why the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up

again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own. I have power to lay it

down, and power to take it up again. (John 10:17-18 NAB)

From the vantage of God, Jesus’ thirst is the result of a life fully lived. A life of proclaiming good news in a land parched of righteousness and hungering for salvation. From God’s perspective, Jesus’ thirst is not a cry for a draught of wine, but an announcement that his living water has, indeed, been poured out.

We may wonder then if Jesus is fully in control of his destiny and he is the source of living waters, for what does he now thirst? In the beatitudes, Jesus announced:

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. (Matt

5:6 NAB)

There is an invitation here, but it’s not an invitation to quench Jesus’ thirst. It’s an invitation to join him in thirsting. To hunger and thirst for righteousness. To not be satisfied with the drugged wine of complacency or the vinegar of apathy. But to be poured out like living water, to spend ourselves on the efforts of God.


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LECTURE 6 THE SIXTH WORD: “IT IS FINISHED” (JOHN 19:30)

SUMMARY

The scene of the Crucifixion presented to us is one of incredible violence. Pilate has handed Jesus over to be crucified. Unlike the accounts in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, in John Jesus carries his cross himself—depicting both a literal and metaphorical reality. Only Jesus could suffer this weight. And only Jesus could be crucified for our sake.

And now we read:

After this, aware that everything was now finished, in order that the scripture might be

fulfilled, Jesus said, "I thirst." 29 There was a vessel filled with common wine. So they

put a sponge soaked in wine on a sprig of hyssop and put it up to his mouth. 30 When

Jesus had taken the wine, he said, "It is finished." And bowing his head, he handed

over the spirit. (John 19:28-30 NAB)

“What is finished?” we may ask. Given the goal of crucifixion and the horrific scene of suffering, we might readily conclude it is Jesus’ own life that has ended.

But surely, Jesus doesn’t mean “I am finished.” I think he would have said that. Look how many times he describes himself, as “I am…” in John’s Gospel.

“I am the bread of life.” “I am the light of the world.” “I am the door of the sheepfold.” “I am the good shepherd.” “I am the resurrection and the life.” “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” “I am the true vine.”

This self-designation mirrors the name God gives himself in Exodus, “I AM.” So whenever we hear “I am” from Jesus in John’s Gospel, we are meant to hear Jesus speaking as the incarnation of God. “The Word made flesh.”

So “it is finished” can’t mean that God is finished. It’s a theological impossibility. But let’s look at this passage more closely. It reads, “After this (the giving of his mother

Mary to the care of the beloved disciple), aware that everything was now finished…. 30 When Jesus had taken the wine, he said, “It is finished.” And bowing his head, he handed over the spirit.” (John 19:28, 30)

“Everything was now finished.” “It is finished.” What “everything,” what “it” is Jesus talking about? Making sure his mother would be cared for? Does “everything” mean that all that his life had been about was tragically coming to an end? Does “it” mean Jesus’ life itself? Or do “everything” and “it” have a more metaphorical meaning?


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Both “everything” and “it” are declared “finished.” The word we define as “finished” also means “completed” or “concluded.” What has Jesus completed? What is being “concluded” here?

We have to return to earlier scenes in the Gospel to find our answer. The evangelist John is like that….he means for us to weave back and forth in his narrative, reading the story literally and figuratively at the same time. And when we look back so as to look forward, we noticed that Jesus says a lot about being sent by God. More than forty-five times, Jesus announces that he has been sent by God. The Greek word is apostellein. It’s where we get the word “Apostle” from. It means to be sent with a commission. So Jesus has been sent for a reason.

After his encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, his disciples ask him if he has eaten, Jesus replies:

"My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work. (John 4:34

NAB)

When questioned about his healing of the paralyzed man on the Sabbath, Jesus explains:

The works that the Father gave me to accomplish, these works that I perform testify on

my behalf that the Father has sent me. (John 5:36 NAB)

Jesus has been given a commission to complete. So, it would seem that what is finished is the task for which God sent the Word Incarnate into the world. The works that Jesus has accomplished demonstrate that he truly is the Son of God.

Jesus isn’t announcing from the cross that his life is finished. He is declaring from the cross that he has completed the task for which he came into the world. Far from being a declaration of despair, “it is finished” can be heard as the proclamation of a work well done.

But wait that’s not all…because it isn’t finished for us. Jesus may have completed the commission God gave him, but that doesn’t mean it’s over for us. As the disciples listen to Jesus’ prayer to the Father, they (and we) hear:

“As you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world.” (John 17:18 NAB)

And just so you know, Jesus wasn’t only talking about his disciples then. He means us as well. In response to the doubting Thomas, Jesus says, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe” (John 20:29). We are, indeed, blessed, but we are also sent.

[Jesus] said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send

you.” (John 20:21 NAB)

There is still work to be done. For us, our part of bringing about the reign of God isn’t finished. It’s only just begun.


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LECTURE 7 THE SEVENTH WORD: “FATHER, INTO YOUR HANDS, I COMMEND MY SPIRIT” (LUKE 23:16)

SUMMARY

The process of crucifixion was so horrible that it was seldom described even by Roman writers. But the Passion was the first story told of Jesus and recorded by his earliest followers. Paul would call the Cross a scandal, and pagans would mock “Christians” as worshippers of a crucified criminal. And though we have attended to both the literal and metaphorical meanings of our Last Words of Christ, on this day when we remember that Good Friday so many years ago, let us be absolutely clear about the historical reality of the cross.

All the gospel accounts name the place of crucifixion “The Skull,” for which John gives the Hebrew, “Golgotha.” In Latin the word is calvaria, hence Calvary. It is the name of a place of execution near Jerusalem so called either because skulls were left there or because the hill looked like a skull. The upright of the crosses likely remained in place, while the victims carried only the cross beam.

Since Roman crucifixion was to be a deterrent to would-be criminals and insurrectionists, the location of such state-sanctioned killings was necessarily public. Archaeological evidence confirms that a rock outcropping in an abandoned quarry was the site of Roman crucifixions outside Jerusalem. It was near to both the main road and the walls of the city from which passersby could clearly see the death scene.

John indicates that Jesus’ hands and feet were nailed to the cross (John 20:25), but victims were also tied. In 1968, archaeologists discovered the remains of a crucified man in a burial outside Jerusalem. One of his ankle bones still held the nails that had attached him to his cross. The victim’s feet straddled the upright with a nail piercing each ankle bone and pinning it to the beam. The agonizing process of dying could take several days, and the victims eventually suffocated. Those to be crucified were beaten before they were hung; the blood loss hastening their death. John recounts that Pilate ordered the victims’ legs broken (John 19:31). No longer able to hold themselves up and take a breath, they would asphyxiate from the weight of their body. To mediate the suffering, if only in part, prisoners were given a draught of sour wine mixed with an additive that may have acted as a narcotic.

And now we come to our Last Word.

It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the

afternoon 45 because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down

the middle. 46 Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commend my

spirit"; and when he had said this he breathed his last. (Luke 23:44-46 NAB)

The infant for whom hosts of angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest.” The young boy who risked his parents’ ire to sit in his Father’s House. The man upon whom the Holy Spirit descended,


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and God’s voice announced, “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.” The hope of the ill, the joy of the sinner, the blessing of tax collectors—this Jesus of Nazareth is dead.

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit”

As the evangelist Mark had done before him, Luke records that Jesus’ last words are a

recitation of a verse of the Scripture. In Psalm 31, we hear

In you, LORD, I take refuge; let me never be put to shame. In your righteousness

deliver me; 3 incline your ear to me; make haste to rescue me! Be my rock of refuge, a

stronghold to save me. 4 For you are my rock and my fortress; for your name’s sake lead

me and guide me. 5 Free me from the net they have set for me, for you are my refuge. 6

Into your hands I commend my spirit; you will redeem me, LORD, God of truth.

(Psalm 31:1-6 NAB)

Never does Jesus give up hope. With his dying breath, Jesus communicates his complete trust that God is a rock of refuge and a redeemer. Then Jesus gives himself back to God. Jesus’ dying words are a confident acclamation of God’s redemption. From God’s vantage, Jesus has remained ever faithful to God’s mission—even to the point of death.

It is this hopeful spirit that St. Paul encourages us to develop. In his Letter to the Philippians, Paul writes:

5 Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus, 6 Who,

though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be

grasped. 7 Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human

likeness; and found human in appearance, 8 he humbled himself, becoming obedient to

death, even death on a cross. (Phil 2:5-8 NAB)

“Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus.” As we stand before the cross, reflecting on the last words of Christ, do we hold that same attitude that is of Christ Jesus? Are we able to lift up our own suffering and pain, our disappointments and tragedies and trust that the God who did not abandoned Jesus will not abandoned us?

The goal of Good Friday isn’t the endurance of suffering. It isn’t a noble death or a stoic acceptance of what is. The true test of Good Friday is trust. Trust that Easter is coming even if we have not yet experienced it. It is, in a word, to have faith. For “faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen” (Heb 11:1 NAB). The true test of Good Friday is to trust that if we commend our spirit to the Father, God has the last word.

CHRIST'S 7 LAST WORDS - Your Guide to Spiritual Growth

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