• Good Friday Preaching – The Servant Girl

     

    The truth is, I only really noticed her on Sunday. I’ve never payed her the blindest bit of attention before.

    I guess no-one ever did.

    The servant girl who answered Peter back. She’s a woman in John’s gospel but a servant girl in the version that Matthew and Cedric were watching on Sunday. There’s more detail there too.

    Peter warms himself by the fire. Cold. Human. Miserable.

    She sees him and simply says, “You were with Jesus the man from Nazareth”.

    He says no.

    She says, “yes you were.”

    He denies it again.

    A third time, “But you are a Galilean”

    Scripture rather euphemistically says that Peter began to curse and swear an oath and said, “I do not know this man you are talking about”.

    I think it is important not to mistake what is going on here.

    Three times she says – you were with that Jesus.

    And Peter’s response is, “Look you, fuck off! I didn’t know the man you are talking about at all”

    That’s what scripture tells us happened.

    And then the cock crows.

    And I’ve preached on Peter on Good Friday plenty of times. And I’ve preached on the cock crowing. The triple betrayal. The cock. The shame of it all for Peter.

    But I’ve never really noticed her.

    Until this time.

    You always notice something or someone new when you come to the passion again.

    This time for me it was her. The servant girl. The one who spoke up, spoke clearly and spoke the truth.

    And we don’t know her name.

    There is a, perhaps rather fanciful, tradition about names in the New Testament. There’s all kinds of small bit parts in the gospels and in Acts – people who appear and disappear rather suddenly. Simon of Cyrene is an obvious example in the passion. The tradition is that those whose names we know from scripture are probably people who found faith and became part of the early Jesus movement that was to become the church. There’s some sense to it. If they joined the movement they would be known by those who collected the gospel stories. They would still been around. In the case of Simon of Cyrene, we even know the names of his sons – surely he had contact with the early church if they were all remembered by name.

    But this servant girl is one of those who appear with something very significant to say but whose names go unrecorded.

    Looks like she never joined the movement and probably was never much taken seriously by anyone at the time.

    But she speaks the truth and we should listen very carefully to what she says.

    She speaks the truth to Peter even in the face of his shame and betrayal of all the love and values that he once professed.

    Ever meet this servant girl?

    She was around at the recent investigations into child sexual abuse in the church.

    I don’t remember her name but there she was giving testimony against all kinds of be-dogcollared bigwigs.

    Her testimony can be summed up easily:

    “You knew Jesus? You knew this to be wrong? Why didn’t you do something?”

    And she made those bigwigs wriggle with shame.

    The servant girl in the courtyard with Peter speaks truth to power. She persistently calls out his lies.

    She is a better priest than Caiaphas. She is a better judge than Pilate. She knows right from wrong. She knows she is being lied to and she says so.

    And Peter – yes, that’s Peter, the rock on which the church was built has no answer.

    I still don’t know her name, and I’m not sure she wants to have much to do with the church anyway but I’m sure I’ve started to hear her voice more often recently.

    The woman in the courtyard accusing Peter.

    I hear her speaking truth to power.

    I see her holding up slogans demanding gun control following a shooting in her school.

    I was there she says. I know what really happened. I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears.

    “You knew that man Jesus didn’t you and yet you ran away when he was vulnerable and in trouble”.

    I know not her name but I hear her speaking out about abuse in the world of showbiz, the world of politics, the world of religion.

    And she speaks the truth.

    She knows that those in power, no let’s name it – men in power will wriggle when trouble comes and try to cover their backs. Try to say – I was not there. I didn’t see it. I knew nothing about what was going on.

    The darkness of the courtyard, Peter stands warming his hands by the brazier and the light of the fire causes her to see the badge he is wearing that no-one else can see which says plainly – “It wisnae me”

    She she’s fooled by nothing.

    She knows that cheating is wrong in business, or education or relationships. She knows that abuse is wrong in the classroom, on the sportsfield or in clergy training programmes. She knows that in this world in which everyone has an opinion, there’s still such a thing as truth. Black and while truth.

    She knows what’s what and she has found her own voice. And she speaks the truth.

    I found myself on Sunday listening to the passion and asking myself why I’ve never heard her voice before.

    But I’ve never heard it because I’m part of the system too.

    Patriarchy is the system that we all find ourselves negotiating and most of us find ourselves making deals and compromises with patriarchy. And voices go unheard.

    Are things changing.

    Is the servant girl – no let’s call her a woman, is the woman in the courtyard finally being heard?

    I don’t think we can know yet.

    But I do know she’s finding her voice. I do know she’s speaking truth to power. I do know also that the powerful are going to put up quite a fight to shut her up.

    But she looks into that patriarchal world and she calls us to live by the company that we have kept with Christ.

    Love is both the goal and the weapon. Love is the destination and love is on the horizon but love is the weapon by which we nip away at patriarchal assumptions, rules and systems.

    She knows the truth, does the woman in the courtyard. And this is her time.

    Who needs a crowing cock.

    These days she posts on twitter.

    And she uses the hashtag #metoo.

9 responses to “The Lament Question”

  1. kimberly Avatar

    ask it in the singular, and the answer is: because you’re a four.

    you’ll have me playing the funeral ikos next.

  2. kimberly Avatar

    the other answer is about possibility being revealed in limits.

  3. kelvin Avatar

    Its not just me though, and not just fours.

  4. Aaron Orear Avatar

    I think because sorrow touches the core of the human condition – we are mortal but can perceive immortality. “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” (Eccl. 3:11)

  5. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    I understand Aristotle talks about catharsis and various philosophers have followed up on that idea.

    Perhaps it arouses sadness both from the art itself but also from our own sources festering within and allows us to let go. We feel better for the letting go, the lessening of our own internal sadness, and so perceive the art as beautiful.

  6. RosemaryHannah Avatar
    RosemaryHannah

    Kimberly was there before me. However, even I, a nine, can sometimes see the beauty in sad things. For me they do two things (may be more but two are most obvious). The first is the catharsis thing. The second is to make me less lonely. Look, here am I weeping, but all around me people sit in the same sorrow. It is not just my sorrow – I am not alone.

    I have long thought there is another answer, one I do not properly understand but I have (I think – and who am I to think it). Deep in God there is a huge well of sorrow. Unless we experience sorrow we cannot understand God. When we sorrow we tap into that well, and become closer to him.

    And being a nice cheerful nine, I will now add that I live in hope that having sorrowed with him, we will share also and even more fully in the joy which swallows the sorrow. Delete this last paragraph from your mind on reading, it will only spoil the joy of the sorrow.

  7. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Edgar Allan Poe said the most beautiful thing in the world is a beautiful, dead woman. Nice, eh?

  8. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    Surely it’s because the concept of beauty is independent from concepts such as ‘sadness’ and ‘happiness’ – just as a G major chord might be loud or soft, but that volume has no effect on its G major-ness.

  9. Steve Avatar
    Steve

    I remember Augustine saying (don’t ask me where) that for a picture to be beautiful it requires dark colours as well as bright.

    There is also a hint of an answer in this poem by Edwin Muir:

    Yet still from Eden springs the root
    As clean as on the starting day.
    Time takes the foliage and the fruit
    And burns the archetypal leaf
    To shapes of terror and of grief
    Scattered along the winter way.
    But famished field and blackened tree
    Bear flowers in Eden never known.

    Blossoms of grief and charity
    Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
    What had Eden ever to say
    Of hope and faith and pity and love
    Until was buried all its day
    And memory found its treasure trove?
    Strange blessings never in Paradise
    Fall from these beclouded skies.

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