On Friday morning, when Jesus appeared before Pilate, all those he had gathered closest to him had disappeared.  Only his enemies and the angry crowd remained.

Everybody that we have come to know by name in Mark’s gospel has left Jesus.  There is only the crowd, and they have had a change of mood since Sunday.

When Jesus triumphantly entered Jerusalem, nobody wanted to leave.  Everybody wanted to be there.  Would he begin to hatch the plan that would free the Jews from Roman rule?  Would he restore the autonomy of Jerusalem as the capital of the kingdom of Israel?  Would the corrupt religious officials who were in cahoots with the Roman officials finally be revealed for their hypocrisy?

Their hopes must have been so high.  Nobody wanted to leave Jesus then.  They had seen him heal; they had been healed.  They had been fed.  They had seen the demons flee before him.  They had heard the stories of abundance and justice.  They had been forgiven – walked away scot free when it looked like they might be stoned to death.  Nobody wanted to leave.  The parade was glorious.  The crowd was jubilant.  The children were exuberant.  The palm branches were festive.  The array of cloaks spread on the ground was a sight to behold.

They must have had high anticipation for the scene that would occur when Jesus dismounted from the donkey and walked right into the temple to claim his rightful place as heir to the throne of David.  Wouldn’t things change then?

We know what’s coming – even when we are singing our hosannas, we know.  It happens with stunning quickness.  How do we get from “Hosanna!” to “Crucify him!” in such a short time?

Easily.  Even if you’re not Jesus’s enemy, it’s easy to leave him by Friday.

His enemies are not surprising, really.  They are deeply attached to their own place in the systems and structures of power and Jesus new community is a threat to them, so they turn against him.  The New Testament describes them as the rulers of the religious community.  They so love their position of power and influence, that they are willing to cooperate with the Roman authorities, even if the people they are called to serve are suffering under the rule of Rome.  They have achieved a politically expedient relationship that secures their own comfort, and they turn against Jesus when they perceive a threat to their power.

That’s a clear way to leave Jesus – become his enemy and seek to use your power to destroy him.

Then there is Judas, his betrayer, who followed him, but in the end, saw opportunity to benefit from the relationship, and sold Jesus out, literally, to his enemies.

Then there are those who, when the going gets tough – just run away.

The story in Mark includes the detail that one who ran away from the Garden of Gethsemane escaped naked when his clothes are torn away.  Having left everything to follow Jesus, he left everything in his haste to abandon Jesus.

Then there is Peter.  “I will never abandon you, Lord.”  He is willing to hang around the edges, stay close – but when recognized as a disciple, he denies it.  Three times.

Betrayal.  Abandonment.  Denial.  Three ways to leave Jesus before getting to the cross.

Betrayal – “Here he is.  You take him.  I’ll take the money.”
Abandonment.  “Where did everybody go?”
Denial.  “I don’t know him.”

The problem for Jesus’s enemies and for Judas is that they cannot shift their expectations.  They know what they want from Jesus and Jesus doesn’t deliver.  Instead of stepping back and re-assessing their expectations in light of Jesus’s message, they kill the messenger.

The problem with the disciples who simply abandon Jesus is their unwillingness or inability to stick it out through the tough times.  It’s fun when you’re feeding the multitudes and learning to walk on water and healing people.  But when they start attacking you for not following the rules, it’s time to go back to fishing.  Why do extraordinary things that are risky when you can do ordinary things that are safe?

And Peter – poor Peter.  Denial is the hardest, because we hardly know we’ve done it until we hear the cock crow.  We’re there.  We think we’re there.  We stay close.  We hang around the edges, waiting to see what happens and hoping nobody asks us to participate.  Then one day, somebody startles us with the truth, and we run away, too.

But the cross of Christ cannot be denied.  It is where Jesus will end up; and it is where he will die.  It is the electric chair of the Roman government, and Jesus is going there.  This is the cross that we have already been asked to take up.  This is the cross upon which Jesus hangs when the “hosannas” have died out and the angry “crucify him” echoes throughout Jerusalem.

We Christians should hate the cross.  It is the symbol of that which killed Jesus.  We should hate it – and yet we revere it as the central symbol of our faith.  We display it.  We wear it.  We sing of it – we lift it high for all to see.

The cross is a symbol of what evil and violence can do.  It is the symbol of agony and suffering.  But more powerfully and more importantly, it is a symbol of how far love will go.  There is no suffering – not then and not now – that is too far from God for God to be present.  No affliction that God stands apart from.  The suffering and afflicted persons in this world will not be saved by death.  They will be saved by change.  They will be saved when the world becomes a just and peaceful place.  They will be saved by sound economic policies and compassionate and just government and transformative events that deliver hope and life.

And that’s what the cross promises.  Jesus never abandons the ethic of love that shapes his life.  Not once.  He never does one solitary thing outside the will and purpose of the loving God with whom he is in constant and full relationship.  His motives are completely transparent.  He is going to show the world what faithful love looks like.

Did you know?  Not everybody abandoned Jesus.  There were those who went with him to the cross.  Mark mentions them.  By name.  Mary Magdalene.  Mary, the mother of James and Joses, and Salome.

And there was the centurion, a Roman who traded in the instruments of torture and death on a daily basis and who saw in Jesus the truth.  “Truly, this man was God’s son!”

At the cross; as ever and always – what remains is relationship.  The human body hangs broken; it’s last breath breathed.  But the centurion bears witness.  And the women are there.

And soon, the relationship they think broken will begin to be restored.  Mary will discover the risen one, calling her by name.  Then the disciples, and Peter will meet him.  Then, a Jewish enemy, a man named Paul, persecutor of Christ – followers will meet him.

The Jesus of the cross will soon set about restoring relationships with the women, who stay close.  Then with Peter and the disciples.  Then with his enemies and betrayers.

Love reaches back… and pulls all of them through Friday and into resurrection day.

Holy week is an opportunity to offer ourselves to be shaped in the image of Christ – to develop our cross-shaped selves for faithful obedience.  We are called to embody the love that remains steadfast in the midst of affliction and suffering.  The world has many, many crosses to be endured.

Thanks be to God that the way to resurrection is through the cross.

So, then, let us go there.