Lent 2 1/3/26
Instruments of Resurrection: Hammer and nails
During this Lent, we will be offering some homilies under the theme of ‘Instruments of resurrection’. We will discover that the most unlikely, commonplace, mundane things are instruments of resurrection. How clever that the master would use everyday, simple things to communicate and help us enter into the most profound mysteries.
They were just my tools of trade. Simple things that I reached for every morning as I went to work. Almost a part of me and who I was.
The trusty hammer that I had ever since I was an apprentice carpenter. An implement designed to send a nail through the wood and hold the thing fast and secure. It wasn’t supposed to come undone.
Same too with the nails. Sharp and pointy so they went easily and quickly in. It all made a lot of sense when I was just starting out, knocking up the odd chair, a table and once we got a big job for a boat. That was 10 days of work. We thought we were made. But then work dried up…
I got an offer for a different job. The pay was better, the work assured, and the contract was pretty much open-ended for as long as I wanted.
I’d never watched anyone die before, let alone gone to a crucifixion. So it was all strange and new to me. I was told to bring my biggest, strongest hammer and all the nails would be supplied. Not carpenters nails though this time. Long rusty spikes that weren’t very sharp and we were way ahead of our time. We’d recycle em from the crosses we used of the day before.
Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”
There’d was no variety in it. It’s not hard. Just three simple blows. One each for the hands, one for the feet. Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”
You try not to hear the crowds. Some with their screeches of grief. Some with the roar of sport and blood lust. Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”
You try not to look at the eyes staring back up at you. Just focus on the hands and feet. Nothing else. Get the job done. Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”
After the second day I reckon I could do it in my sleep, and that was the trouble. In my dreams, I was still at work. Blokes younger than me. Inevitably losing the wrestle. Writhing. Bang thud… Bang Thud… Bang thud… “Next!”
Writing helped… sort of
And a Good Friday Was Had by All
Bruce Dawe
You men there, keep those women back
and God Almighty he laid down
on the crossed timber and old Silenus
my offsider looked at me as if to say
nice work for soldiers, your mind’s not your own
once you sign that dotted line, Ave Caesar
and all that malarkey, Imperator Rex
well this Nazarene
didn’t make it any easier
really-not like the ones
who kick up a fuss so you can
do your block and take it out on them
Silenus
held the spikes steady and I let fly
with the sledgehammer, not looking
on the downswing, trying hard not to hear
over the women’s wailing the bones give way
the iron shocking the dumb wood.
Orders is orders, I said after it was over
nothing personal you understand -we had a
drill-sergeant once thought he was God but he wasn’t
a patch on you
then we hauled on the ropes
and he rose in the hot air
like a diver just leaving the springboard, arms spread
so it seemed
over the whole damned creation
over the big men who must have had it in for him
and the curious ones who’ll watch anything if it’s free
with only the usual women caring anywhere
and a blind man in tears.
Lord Jesus Christ by the three days you lay in the tomb you sanctified the grave to be a bed of hope of resurrection.
Grant that when we lie in our own grave, we may sleep in peace until that glorious day when you awaken us to your glory.
Then we shall see you face to face and in your light we shall see light and know your splendour, for you live forever and ever Amen.