Before read the article, I wanna say

HAPPY GOOD FRIDAY AND EASTER DAY 2010

Lent is traditionally the time to contemplate the final words uttered by Christ on the Cross

The last words of the dying fascinate us. This fascination testifies to our unchanging interest in words. We are more aware than any other generation of our capacity for abusing them: we are weary of the spin of politicians; we are unimpressed by the polish of advertisers; we are appalled at the motives of demagogues. Yet still we are fascinated by words.

They remain our most potent form of self-expression. They have not been dislodged by our ability to manipulate images at the touch of a sensitive screen. They have not been submerged beneath the waves of sound made accessible by digital technology. They have not been made redundant by the hugs and hand-clasps that we so freely exchange. Spoken or handwritten, typed, texted or Twittered, words are the vehicle through which we give voice not only to passing gossip but also to profound emotion and passionate conviction. We listen to words.

And last words lay a particular claim to our attention. Their uniqueness has long been recognized by the English Common Law, which treats ‘dying declarations’ as exceptions to the general prohibition on hearsay and allows them to be admitted in evidence. When words are spoken by a person who knows that they are dying there is reason to suppose that they are authoritative. The exception may have been created in an age when closeness to death signalled for many people closeness to eternal judgement. Yet even in the absence of a generally-held belief in hellfire, as death approaches the motives for lying diminish. We listen to words; we trust last words.

Yet we look to last words for more than trustworthiness. Whether it’s Horatio Nelson (‘Thank God I have done my duty’) or Humphrey Bogart (‘I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis’) last words exercise a relentless hold on the romantic imagination. We look to them for a summation of the dying person’s life and for a verdict on their achievements. We expect a reflection on what their years have meant; we hope for wisdom, for wit and for poetry. These are words to ponder and to profit by.

That the last words of Jesus Christ, spoken from the Cross, should long have been a focus of Christian devotion is therefore no surprise. These seven sayings comprise serenely faithful prayers (”Father, into your hands I commend my spirit”) and desperately desolate pleas (”My God, my God, why have you forgotten me?”).They address dire human need (”I am thirsty”) and seek absolution for torturers (”Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”). They speak simultaneously of wretched defeat and of supreme confidence (”It is finished”). And they call into being a new community in which ancient ties of blood matter less than present attentiveness to the call (”Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother”).

Authoritative and final, the last words of Jesus Christ give voice to the paradoxes that are at the heart of the Christian life and articulate their every contour. Our generation seeks the security of certainty; yet the divine Son dares to doubt. Our world is violent and unjust; yet the divine Son’s forgiveness disarms the power of violence and injustice. Our age prizes visible success; yet the divine Son stares into the abyss and names it an accomplishment.

Aggressive certainty; violent injustice; belligerent triumph…all were real in Palestine 2,000 years ago; all are real now. What last words will be uttered today? And what will be the next generation’s last word on ours?

The Rev Nicholas Papadopulos is vicar of St Peter’s, Eaton Square which is running a series on events and liturgies this Lent centred on the theme of the Last Words of Christ

Source: The lure of last words