Sermon manuscript:
Jesus was arrested for being disruptive by the chief
priests, elders, and other leaders of the church. Jesus was being disruptive
because he was bringing to bear on people’s lives the Word of God. The Word of
God is disruptive. It doesn’t just affirm everything we already think and do.
So they hated Jesus—they would say for being disruptive, but really for
exposing their evil. In Jesus the light came into the world, but they preferred
the darkness instead of the light so that they could carry on doing what they
were doing. They had to get rid of that light.
As it turned out, this was a whole lot easier than they were
expecting. They were prepared to go to great lengths—securing a spy, arresting
him at night, in a secluded space. These were folks who knew how to turn a
screw. But they didn’t need to go to all that trouble, because Jesus wasn’t a
liar. If Jesus were shrewd like we pride ourselves as being, they wouldn’t have
been able to nail him so easily. But Jesus told them exactly what they wanted
to hear.
They asked him, “Are you the Son of God?” Jesus said,
“Yes, it is as you say.” Case closed. “What need have we for further
witnesses? You heard it from his own lips! That is blasphemy if I’ve ever heard
blasphemy. How can someone claim to be God’s Son?” So ended that trial.
Then, when Jesus was brought before Pontius Pilate, they had
to change tactics a little bit. Pilate couldn’t care less about what is
orthodox and what is unorthodox. Politics is how Jesus could be nailed here.
He’s been letting himself be called a king. They had a parade for him just the
other day. They were singing, “Hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the Name
of the Lord, even the king of Israel!”
Of all the things that Jesus could have been charged with,
this was, in fact, something that always did prick up the ears of the Romans.
The Romans were very practical people, dollars and cents kinds of people.
Believe whatever you want so long as you keep working, keep paying your taxes,
and aren’t disruptive to the status quo. Rival kings would not be tolerated.
Of course, Pilate thought Jesus was no rival. He thought he
was nuts. Pilate tried to get him off the hook. But Jesus didn’t help him in
this regard. When Pilate asked him, “Are you a king?” he didn’t lie. “I
am as you say.” So be it. Pilate sent along a special sign for Jesus’s
cross: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.”
The idea of Jesus being king provided all kinds of comedic
material for everybody involved. The soldiers at the chief priest’s house
blindfolded Jesus, punched him, and then said, “Prophecy, O Son of God. Who
struck you?” Later a purple robe was draped upon him, a crown of thorns was
put on his head. They broke off a stalk of reed for him to carry as a scepter.
“Hail, king of the Jews.” Then they took the scepter out of his hand and
bopped him on the head with it. What an idiot!
You heard some of this kind of thing in our reading: “He
saved others. Stands to reason, then, that he should be able to save himself!
Come down from that cross, O Christ of God, then we’ll believe you. Oh, you
can’t come down from that cross? Have some nails got you stuck there? I guess
you aren’t much of a God, then, are you?”
Even the two criminals, who, themselves, were fastened
tightly to their own crosses by nails joined in on the reviling. They were as
guilty as guilty can be, but at least they weren’t naïve idiots like this
Jesus. How common that is in the minds of evil people: “At least I’m not like that
person. I might be mean, and I might be greedy, but at least I’m not like him.”
Maybe that’s the devil’s motivations for all his temptations. He can point at
us poor sinners and say, “At least I’m not like that.” I wonder if that thought
still gives any comfort in the dark halls of hell: “At least I’m not like that!”
But Luke gives us a gift when it comes to these two
criminals. As you heard in our reading, one of these two criminals comes to his
senses. The other Gospels don’t get into that. But Luke does, and it’s quite
something to hear. May we all become like this thief on the cross. He gives the
Christian confession. In fact, there is no other kind of confession that is
Christian.
As you know, confession has two parts: first, that we
confess our sins, and second, that we receive absolution, that is, forgiveness.
This is what this man does. He chastises the other thief with tremendous words:
“Don’t you fear God?” That is the question, is it not? Do you fear God?
Or do you keep him safely out of mind so that nothing disrupts your practicing
of evil? Do you console yourself with the thought: “It will probably be fine”?
Then the thief says, “We deserve the punishment we are
receiving. We’ve done wrong. This man between us has done nothing wrong.”
This, also, is an amazing thing for anyone to say, and so incredibly rare.
I’m always picking on you guys and how you live your lives,
so I’ll pick on some strangers for a change, to illustrate how rare this is.
In 2008 the financial sector collapsed. Why did it collapse?
Because bankers and investors and a whole bunch of other already filthy rich
people were making ridiculous bets, raking it in, never able to make enough for
sitting there and doing nothing. Plus all kinds of people were lying their
heads off. The ratings agencies, for example, were lying to beat the band. Why?
Because if they didn’t lie they’d have to go out of business. If they didn’t
lie, their clients would just go elsewhere. They didn’t have a choice, you see.
The house of cards had to collapse because it was built on lies. Then, when it
did collapse, the richest ones who should have lost everything ended up making
even more money.
This fraud changed everything. We’re still living in the
shadow of it, and we will continue to live in the shadow of it until our
current house of cards gets blown over. This was the biggest fraud in history.
But not a single one of these greedy, lying, lazy cheats spent a single day in
jail. They weren’t even charged and put on trial. They didn’t have to go
through that stress.
Every day tiny little sneak thieves and embezzlers get the
book thrown at them and they get locked away for 10 or 20 years for stealing infinitesimally
small fractions of what these giants stole. The two men crucified with Jesus
were thieves, but in our society we name buildings after our thieves. They are
held in high esteem. And, of course, the last thing they would ever do is say
that they were sorry. Because, of course, it’s not their fault.
Or take this insane virus that has made our life miserable
and killed a huge number of people. This virus was almost certainly cooked up
in some lab somewhere. Even if this particular one wasn’t, there’s no disputing
the fact that scientists are doing “gain of function” research on viruses,
bacteria, and funguses. “Gain of
function” means that they’re purposely making the diseases deadlier, more
contagious, and so on.
Even though perhaps millions of people have been essentially
murdered by these scientists and the governments who pay them, nobody’s said
they’re sorry. If there were ever a time for sackcloth and ashes, wouldn’t it
for those involved in this conflagration that was unleashed upon the earth? But
not only is there no sackcloth and ashes, you can’t even ask the question of
where it came from. The powers that be have wanted everybody to assume that it
came from a pangolin, whatever that is, and let’s just leave it at that. What
bigger investigation could be possible than this one—what news story, even?
You’d think just the love of money or the love of fame would propel people to
ferret out the truth.
But we’re not living in a time of truth. And that’s not
surprising, if only we consult our own ways of doing things. We don’t want to
take responsibility for what we’ve done either. It’s not our fault, you see. We
don’t want the light anywhere near those portions of our life that we want to
keep hidden in the dark so that we can keep doing what we want. We, like the
bank executives, don’t want to say we’re sorry. And why should we? Here’s a bit
of truth actually: They’re not sorry and neither are we. Maybe we won’t be
sorry until we land ourselves in hell. Then, boy oh boy, will we be sorry. We
are so proud and tight-lipped in this life. We won’t say we’re sorry. We’re
probably fine. Nobody will know because we’ve kept it in the dark. Why confess
or change your ways?
But here’s the question: Do you not fear God?
There is one last thing that is extraordinary about this
thief’s confession. There’s one more true thing that he says: “Jesus,
remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Remember how all the big wigs
and the powers that be have been amusing themselves: “He fancies himself a
king! How droll!” and they carry on with their wicked lives. Meanwhile this
guilty, punished, humiliated thief actually believes that Jesus is king.
And so he is. Jesus always spoke the truth. “Are you the
Son of God?” “Yes,” even though it meant death. “Are you the king of the
Jews?” “Yes,” even though it meant mockery and death. Jesus, unlike us,
never lies. He is truth and light and life, instead of lies and darkness and
death.
So Jesus says another true thing to this poor man: “Amen.
Today you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus would remember him in his
kingdom. And what is Jesus’s kingdom? It is truth and light and life.
Jesus says in another place: “This is the basis for the
judgment—this is how people are judged: The light has come into the
world, yet the people loved the darkness rather than the light because their
deeds were evil. In fact, everyone who practices wicked things hates the light
and does not come toward the light, or else his deeds would be exposed. But the
one who does what is true comes toward the light, in order that his deeds may
be seen as having been done in connection with God.”
Since this is the basis for judgement, come toward the
light. Sure, that light is going to expose your evil deeds. That’s no fun, I
know. There’s a good reason why tears so often accompany confessions of guilt.
But the only other alternative is to shun the light for the next 10 or 20 or 80
or however many more years you have left to live, and then your wicked deeds
will then be exposed.
The books are opened then to all, a record truly telling,
what each has done both great and small, while he on earth was dwelling.
Learn from this wise criminal. He is so much wiser than our
titans of finance and our oh-so-clever scientists. His wisdom did not come from
flesh and blood. It had to have come from God because he is simply bursting
with truth. By God’s truth he was transferred out of the domain of darkness
into the kingdom of Jesus.
So it was for him, so it is now, and so it will be for all
those who follow his example: “Jesus, remember me in your kingdom.” Then,
when the time is right, you will be with him in paradise.
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