If I say “I can’t get no,” you would respond with “Satisfaction.” This first line from a Rolling Stone classic is one that most everyone in the room knows and has identified with at some time. We are transported back to 1965 when that song dominated the airwaves and we believed the British invasion was a good thing. The song speaks of driving in my car the man on the radio giving useless information… Can’t get no Satisfaction. Then being on a losing streak and can’t get no satisfaction. We have all had our moments when we feel like we can’t get no satisfaction. Now you might be sitting there saying to yourself- where is she going with this? Talking about satisfaction as we consider Christ’s final words, you might be thinking that the preacher has lost it. And maybe I have, but hear me out.
Our short verse, Jesus’ final word from Mark’s gospel, is one that really is the first line of a very familiar song- Psalm 22; the one that prepares the way for the 23rd Psalm. So when Jesus said those words, “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?”, He has started a song in their heads, they might not be transported to 1965 but they were taken back to a moving witness of despair and praise, of oppression and overcoming. Every person there and every person hearing tell of Jesus’ final words would know this song, the Psalm that vacillates hot and cold, like this “O my God, I cry by day, but you did not answer me and by night, but find no rest. Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.” Then it goes on and declares God is the one who took me from the womb and kept me safe at my mother’s breast, but also agonizes that my bones are out of joint, my heart is like melting wax in my chest and my strength is all dried up. You can just hear these words coming from Jesus’ mouth… “Be not far from me, O God, for trouble is near and there is no help.” Enemies and dogs ravage but “those who seek him shall praise the Lord, the afflicted shall eat and be satisfied!” (26) says the Psalmist. So satisfaction belongs to the ones who love the Lord, who trust in Him no matter what assails them.
So for Jesus to utter these words, playing the music of this testimony, is more than a man suffering the depths of pain, Jesus is bearing witness to God even in his final moment. His cry to God shows his complete humanity, it helps me to relate to Jesus as my Lord who has been through every possible trial, pain and suffering and was faithful still. His words might be interpreted as a moment of doubt, but it is decisively a witness to the human agony we endure and grants us permission and example to cry out to God in our darkest moments.
For the feeling of abandonment is universal. That deafeningly isolated moment when all the world seems to forsake you and hope is exiled. Hearing the doctor inform you, you have cancer and then being lost in the silence of fear and despair. Feeling abandoned when your mate of over 50 years takes her last breath, the agony of watching your grandchild poison his life and future with heroin and cocaine. We all know some level of abandonment, a time when our back is to the wall and we want to scream out, “My God, My God why have you abandoned me?”
I heard a fascinating interview on NPR with Tony Judt, a Pulitzer Prize winning author who has an intellectual mind that is now trapped in an immobile, failing body. In 2008, he was diagnosed with ALS, Lou Gehrig’s disease, a neuromuscular illness. He describes ALS as progressive imprisonment without parole. He wrote, “In the early stages of my disease, my temptation to call out for help was almost irresistible. Every muscle felt in need of movement. Every inch of skin itched. My bladder found mysterious ways to refill itself in the night and thus, require relief. And in general, I felt a desperate need for the reassurance of light, company and the simple comforts of human discourse.” He knows the abandonment of his body and yet continues to persevere with his mind. He chooses how he will respond, for we all have such a choice. There is no satisfaction in abandonment.
When I went through confirmation class, my minister gave us a simple and profound definition of sin as Separation from God. As an adolescent I could relate to that so much better than a whole bunch of rules. And the longer I lived my life I have found that definition really works. This week at the stewardship conference I heard tell of sin as lack of connectivity – we are disconnected from God, our communities, our families. We turn to devices to get connected in a world of electronic connectivity – Ipad, phone, computer, social media. Whatever I do that keeps me from God, disconnects me from God, is sin; those actions or thoughts that create a wall between me and God, block out the light and love of Christ from my life- then I know I am in sin, regardless if the action is on some list somewhere or not.
You and I are certainly sinners, we have fallen short of God’s calling over and over again then we repent and turn towards God and God tears down the wall that separates us, to once again be reconciled with God and to share in sweet communion. Yet Jesus, even though he suffered all life could bring, faced temptations, failure of friends, the hatred of foes and the searing pain of life, he had never known the consequence of sin – separation and disconnect. He never had a wall the disconnect between himself and God that sin created because our Savior was sinless. Charles Barclay reminds us, at that moment hanging from the cross when all of our sins are bearing down on his beaten shoulders, “in this terrible, grueling and bleak moment Jesus really and truly identified himself with the sins of humanity. Here we have the divine paradox- Jesus knew what it was like to be a sinner. And this experience must have been doubly agonizing for Jesus because he had never known that separation from God before.” Jesus embodied the agony of our sin. My God, My God why have you forsaken me?
Henri Nouwen in his book The Wounded Healer reminds us, “Who can save a child from a burning house without taking the risk of being hurt by the flames? Who can listen to a story of loneliness and despair without taking the risk of experiencing similar pains in his own heart and even losing his precious peace of mind? In short who can take away suffering without entering it? …We have forgotten that no God can save us except a suffering God, and that no man can lead his people except the man who is crushed by their sins.” Jesus is doing both, leading and saving, suffering and freeing.
Now to some they might think Jesus is not satisfied with his lot, complaining about his circumstance; that for a moment he questions what he is doing and why. But oh no! Jesus has no doubt, Jesus is certain and Jesus is anything but abandoned. Jesus is not bemoaning and living the final words of the Rolling Stones No satisfaction, no satisfaction, no satisfaction. Rather Jesus is living the closing lines of the 22 Psalm “All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord; posterity shall serve him and tell of the Lord to the coming generation, and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn.” That means you and me. While dying for our sins Jesus was talking to you and to me, he knew that even in his darkest moment one day you would be born, and you would need a Savior and in that existential moment, the moment he cried out to his father, he was proclaiming your deliverance and mine. In that moment reconciliation, salvation and forgiveness all became a reality. For Jesus willingly died for our sins, graciously offered forgiveness and entered all of our suffering.
Jesus is not forsaken, just as we are not forsaken during our darkest hour. Sure we have those moments of intense feeling, sure we want God to come in and make everything better, but what we get to do is to cry out to God just like Jesus did, both acknowledging our fears and feelings, but more importantly attesting to our faith in our miraculous and holy God who is right there with us every step of the way. Amen.
