Woman, Here Is Your Son
Sermon
A Cry from the Cross
Sermons on the Seven Last Words of Christ
Object:
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.
-- John 19:26-27
Family comes first. We say this even if we don't always mean it. It's easy, when faced with the crunch of life, to take our families for granted and put them and their needs on the back burner. Often we neglect our families as we work on other important concerns -- perhaps even justifying ourselves by our claim to be working for God. These are, after all, laudable goals and activities -- church, work, the helping of others. Surely, this is what God would have us do.
Much has been said in recent years about family values. Pundits often equate family values with moral or faith values. We read books and journals and attend seminars that will teach us how to create family-friendly churches. Christian publishers crank out books on family life and how to build a family ministry in your church. Many seminaries offer degrees in marriage and family counseling. These days, it's not enough to hire a youth minister who'll watch over the children while the adults are doing more important things. Now churches need to hire family life pastors who can counsel families and help coordinate their recreational and devotional lives. There's so much talk about family values that it's easy to begin feeling guilty about our level of attention to family duties. Yes, good Christians are attentive to their families!
And yet, if you read the gospels closely, you might discover a few surprises. You might even begin to wonder if our glorification of the family isn't a mistake. Jesus isn't much of a family-values kind of preacher. Much of what he says about the family can be a bit shocking. At the very least, Jesus seems to be ambivalent about the family and one's duties to it. In fact, at times, he can sound downright hostile toward the family. According to Luke, Jesus had the temerity to declare that "whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:26). Surely, Jesus must be exaggerating; after all he was known to stretch things at times to make a point. If not, then he sounds a lot like one of those cult figures -- you know -- Jim Jones or David Koresh. But surely Jesus wasn't like Jim Jones. So what point is he trying to make?
If we can assume for a moment, and this is a big assumption, that Jesus was stretching this word "hate" a bit, then when it comes to discipleship, maybe it means that Jesus wants us to put our families after God's claims on our lives. Being God's child, it would seem, trumps all our other relationships.
When Jesus talks about the family, he usually has something in mind that is much larger than simply our blood relations. My mother and brothers and sisters, he says, are the ones who "hear the word of God and do it" (Luke 8:20-21). Yes, when it comes to family values, the community of faith seems to have first call on our lives. This family is the true family. Remember, when some prospective disciples told him that they needed to first bury their parents before coming with him, he told them: "Let the dead bury the dead" (Luke 9:60).
If we've been wrestling with statements like these, then we might be a bit surprised to hear this third word from the cross. Of course, this is John's account and not Luke's. Maybe John has a different perspective on family than Luke does. But even if this is true, what do we make of this third word? As I read this third word I'm not ready to say that Jesus was getting on the family-values bandwagon. But, since this is a word that comes from a man hanging on a cross, with life itself hanging in the balance, perhaps it's instructive to listen closely to the way in which Jesus reaches out to a mother who has come to watch her son die. As he looks down at her from the cross, it's possible that thoughts of his childhood and the time he spent with his mother went through his mind. Though we don't know much, if anything, about his childhood, it's likely that it was a difficult one. There were those rumors about his parentage, and it seems quite likely that Joseph died fairly early in Jesus' life. But now, Mary was there for him. She'd come from afar to give him comfort and encouragement.
Struggling for breath, Jesus tenderly and compassionately makes provision for his mother, and as he takes care of his mother's future, surely those memories of his youth began to wash over him. Though the family of God may have prior claim on our loyalties, the thought of a mother's love must have had a place in his heart. If we believe at all in his humanity, then this would have to be true. When life had been at its worst, she was there to reach out and comfort him. In fact, it's that one image, of a mother comforting a little boy who has fallen, that gives some humanity and grace to the otherwise lurid depiction of Good Friday found in The Passion of the Christ.
In the throes of death he cries out to her, "Woman, here is your son." And to the beloved disciple he says, "Here is your mother." The scene is poignant. Mother and son are together one last time, and of course, the mother is heartbroken, as would be true of any mother who is forced to watch her child die. I expect that as he spoke to her, she began to weep, perhaps uncontrollably. This scene is full of sadness and shame, for not only is her son dying, but he dies the death of a criminal, and if not a criminal then as a failed revolutionary. This isn't something a mother should have to endure, and yet here she is, standing at the foot of the cross, bringing a sense of humanity to an otherwise lifeless hero story. Although their conversation was likely more involved than what we read here, even without words we're drawn into this encounter and we can feel Mary's despair and pain.
He may have been struggling for life, but surely Jesus was affected by her tears. He may have spoken of a family that transcends the family of birth, but she was still his mother. His death would leave her all alone. And yet, she won't be alone because the beloved disciple will be at her side. I believe it's likely that Mary had other children, but for some reason they don't seem to be with her here. Maybe they're embarrassed by Jesus' change of fortunes, but a mother can never turn her back on her child. And if her other children can't be with her in her time of deepest sorrow, then Jesus will turn to one who is closer to him than a brother, and he will commit the care of his mother to him and not to his immediate family. Oh, his brother James will become a follower, but this comes later, after the resurrection.
By turning over the care of his mother to the beloved disciple, Jesus commits her to the care of the family of God. It will be one from among the band of disciples who will stand by and comfort his mother in her grief. As the beloved disciple takes on this new role as son to mother, she becomes our mother as well.
As touching as this scene might be, something else is going on in this story. It's not just about mother and son, it's also about the birth of a new family, a family rooted not in blood but in faith. At the very beginning of John's gospel, the author declares that those who receive Jesus and believe in his name will be given "power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or the will of man, but of God" (John 1:12). Here, on the hill we call Golgotha, this new family of God is born. Flesh and blood become irrelevant, and a family created by faith in God emerges from this moment in time.
Now we must be careful about how we apply Jesus' statements concerning the family. We could easily fall prey to destructive tendencies and break apart our families. But if we can really understand what Jesus is doing here in relativizing our family bonds and in broadening the notion of family, then we'll be prepared for any eventuality. Family is everything, but at the same time it isn't everything. By re-imagining the family and broadening our understanding of family, we discover a whole new set of relationships.
Good Friday poses a question to us: In what way do our relationships as brothers and sisters in Christ transcend lines of family, race, and nationality? What does this mean for the way we live together as the body of Christ in the world? If we're all family because we're children of God, then shouldn't we learn to love each other and care for each other as brothers and sisters? In a letter that is reminiscent of the gospel -- perhaps it comes from the same community -- a leader of the church reminds us that if we can't love the neighbor whom we can see, then how can we say that we love God whom we cannot see? (1 John 4:20). In showing compassion to his mother, he showed us how to love God.
-- John 19:26-27
Family comes first. We say this even if we don't always mean it. It's easy, when faced with the crunch of life, to take our families for granted and put them and their needs on the back burner. Often we neglect our families as we work on other important concerns -- perhaps even justifying ourselves by our claim to be working for God. These are, after all, laudable goals and activities -- church, work, the helping of others. Surely, this is what God would have us do.
Much has been said in recent years about family values. Pundits often equate family values with moral or faith values. We read books and journals and attend seminars that will teach us how to create family-friendly churches. Christian publishers crank out books on family life and how to build a family ministry in your church. Many seminaries offer degrees in marriage and family counseling. These days, it's not enough to hire a youth minister who'll watch over the children while the adults are doing more important things. Now churches need to hire family life pastors who can counsel families and help coordinate their recreational and devotional lives. There's so much talk about family values that it's easy to begin feeling guilty about our level of attention to family duties. Yes, good Christians are attentive to their families!
And yet, if you read the gospels closely, you might discover a few surprises. You might even begin to wonder if our glorification of the family isn't a mistake. Jesus isn't much of a family-values kind of preacher. Much of what he says about the family can be a bit shocking. At the very least, Jesus seems to be ambivalent about the family and one's duties to it. In fact, at times, he can sound downright hostile toward the family. According to Luke, Jesus had the temerity to declare that "whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:26). Surely, Jesus must be exaggerating; after all he was known to stretch things at times to make a point. If not, then he sounds a lot like one of those cult figures -- you know -- Jim Jones or David Koresh. But surely Jesus wasn't like Jim Jones. So what point is he trying to make?
If we can assume for a moment, and this is a big assumption, that Jesus was stretching this word "hate" a bit, then when it comes to discipleship, maybe it means that Jesus wants us to put our families after God's claims on our lives. Being God's child, it would seem, trumps all our other relationships.
When Jesus talks about the family, he usually has something in mind that is much larger than simply our blood relations. My mother and brothers and sisters, he says, are the ones who "hear the word of God and do it" (Luke 8:20-21). Yes, when it comes to family values, the community of faith seems to have first call on our lives. This family is the true family. Remember, when some prospective disciples told him that they needed to first bury their parents before coming with him, he told them: "Let the dead bury the dead" (Luke 9:60).
If we've been wrestling with statements like these, then we might be a bit surprised to hear this third word from the cross. Of course, this is John's account and not Luke's. Maybe John has a different perspective on family than Luke does. But even if this is true, what do we make of this third word? As I read this third word I'm not ready to say that Jesus was getting on the family-values bandwagon. But, since this is a word that comes from a man hanging on a cross, with life itself hanging in the balance, perhaps it's instructive to listen closely to the way in which Jesus reaches out to a mother who has come to watch her son die. As he looks down at her from the cross, it's possible that thoughts of his childhood and the time he spent with his mother went through his mind. Though we don't know much, if anything, about his childhood, it's likely that it was a difficult one. There were those rumors about his parentage, and it seems quite likely that Joseph died fairly early in Jesus' life. But now, Mary was there for him. She'd come from afar to give him comfort and encouragement.
Struggling for breath, Jesus tenderly and compassionately makes provision for his mother, and as he takes care of his mother's future, surely those memories of his youth began to wash over him. Though the family of God may have prior claim on our loyalties, the thought of a mother's love must have had a place in his heart. If we believe at all in his humanity, then this would have to be true. When life had been at its worst, she was there to reach out and comfort him. In fact, it's that one image, of a mother comforting a little boy who has fallen, that gives some humanity and grace to the otherwise lurid depiction of Good Friday found in The Passion of the Christ.
In the throes of death he cries out to her, "Woman, here is your son." And to the beloved disciple he says, "Here is your mother." The scene is poignant. Mother and son are together one last time, and of course, the mother is heartbroken, as would be true of any mother who is forced to watch her child die. I expect that as he spoke to her, she began to weep, perhaps uncontrollably. This scene is full of sadness and shame, for not only is her son dying, but he dies the death of a criminal, and if not a criminal then as a failed revolutionary. This isn't something a mother should have to endure, and yet here she is, standing at the foot of the cross, bringing a sense of humanity to an otherwise lifeless hero story. Although their conversation was likely more involved than what we read here, even without words we're drawn into this encounter and we can feel Mary's despair and pain.
He may have been struggling for life, but surely Jesus was affected by her tears. He may have spoken of a family that transcends the family of birth, but she was still his mother. His death would leave her all alone. And yet, she won't be alone because the beloved disciple will be at her side. I believe it's likely that Mary had other children, but for some reason they don't seem to be with her here. Maybe they're embarrassed by Jesus' change of fortunes, but a mother can never turn her back on her child. And if her other children can't be with her in her time of deepest sorrow, then Jesus will turn to one who is closer to him than a brother, and he will commit the care of his mother to him and not to his immediate family. Oh, his brother James will become a follower, but this comes later, after the resurrection.
By turning over the care of his mother to the beloved disciple, Jesus commits her to the care of the family of God. It will be one from among the band of disciples who will stand by and comfort his mother in her grief. As the beloved disciple takes on this new role as son to mother, she becomes our mother as well.
As touching as this scene might be, something else is going on in this story. It's not just about mother and son, it's also about the birth of a new family, a family rooted not in blood but in faith. At the very beginning of John's gospel, the author declares that those who receive Jesus and believe in his name will be given "power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or the will of man, but of God" (John 1:12). Here, on the hill we call Golgotha, this new family of God is born. Flesh and blood become irrelevant, and a family created by faith in God emerges from this moment in time.
Now we must be careful about how we apply Jesus' statements concerning the family. We could easily fall prey to destructive tendencies and break apart our families. But if we can really understand what Jesus is doing here in relativizing our family bonds and in broadening the notion of family, then we'll be prepared for any eventuality. Family is everything, but at the same time it isn't everything. By re-imagining the family and broadening our understanding of family, we discover a whole new set of relationships.
Good Friday poses a question to us: In what way do our relationships as brothers and sisters in Christ transcend lines of family, race, and nationality? What does this mean for the way we live together as the body of Christ in the world? If we're all family because we're children of God, then shouldn't we learn to love each other and care for each other as brothers and sisters? In a letter that is reminiscent of the gospel -- perhaps it comes from the same community -- a leader of the church reminds us that if we can't love the neighbor whom we can see, then how can we say that we love God whom we cannot see? (1 John 4:20). In showing compassion to his mother, he showed us how to love God.
