Who can doubt
that the literature of Good Friday contains some of the most delicate and yet
most disturbing images in all of sacred art?
It is rivaled by the Psalms of lament, the confessions of Jeremiah, and
of course, the book of Job. Our Tenebrae
service, which we had on Maundy Thursday last night, included some texts which
properly belong to Good Friday. The
readings were from the gospel of Luke.
Here is the scene in which Pontius Pilate yields to the cry of the mob,
which was read with a touch of pathos by the liturgist:
“Pilate then called together the
chief priests, the leaders, and the people, and said to them, ‘You brought me
this man as one who was perverting the people; and here I have examined him in
your presence and have not found this man guilty of any of your charges against
him. Neither has Herod, for he sent him
back to us. Indeed, he has done nothing
to deserve death. I will therefore have
him flogged and release him.’
“Then they all shouted out
together, ‘Away with this fellow! Release Barabbas for us!’ (This was a man who had been put in prison
for an insurrection that had taken place in the city, and for murder.) Pilate, wanting to release Jesus, addressed
them again; but they kept shouting, ‘Crucify, crucify him!’ A third time he said to them, ‘Why, what evil
has he done? I have found in him no
ground for the sentence of death; I will therefore have him flogged and then
release him.’ But they kept urgently
demanding with loud shouts that he should be crucified; and their voices
prevailed. So Pilate gave his verdict
that their demand should be granted. He
released the man they asked for, the one who had been put in prison for
insurrection and murder, and he handed Jesus over as they wished.”
In 1900,
Robert Watson had a similar feeling of the delicate and disturbing literature
of the holy when he produced his text on the figure of Job. He begins with the opening lines:
“The Book of
Job is the first great poem of the soul in its mundane conflict, facing the
inexorable of sorrow, change, pain, and death, and feeling within itself at one
and the same time weakness and energy, the hero and the serf, brilliant hopes,
terrible fears. With entire veracity and
amazing force this book represents the never-ending drama renewed in every
generation and every genuine life.”
The cross can
be seen as posing the question that upends our expectations of what is blessed
and good in life. In an almost Zen-like
fashion, it speaks volumes without uttering a word. Perhaps three or four centuries earlier, an
author compiled a work verbally profuse with haunting beauty.
Watson’s book
isn’t light reading. But if you’re
interested in delving deeply into the world of Job (with not a small bit of
Watson’s commentary and viewpoint!), then this book is for you. Over and over, you find a celebration of
creativity and imagination.
It is worthy
of a Joban Friday.
