Christian Life

Throughout Holy Week, we have examined the message of Easter through the doorway of the words “Unlock the Power of Easter” which really is an invitation to explore what Easter can mean in our own lives.

Holy Week is the most important week in the Christian calendar, because it is when the most momentous events of human history were played out.

In other Christian traditions, Good Friday is commemorated with three hours of silence, interjected by the Seven Words of Jesus spoken from the Cross which are recorded in the gospels.  Passion Plays will tell out the story and simple marches behind a cross will help people capture the sombre mood of a day, when we remember quite specifically that Jesus suffered on a cross and died.

More exuberant Christians consider Good Friday has little place today and move swiftly from Palm Sunday to Easter … when, in point of fact, it is what happens in the period between which is the story of our salvation.  Leslie D Weatherhead reflected as a preacher on his own experience of Good Friday:

“In some moods – the mood, for example, in which I find myself on each Good Friday morning – one feels it is almost a sacrilege to argue and to discuss.  One desires then only to bow in adoration before the mystery of a love whose depths no-one can sound and the range of whose august purposes is like that of a shooting star.  It sweeps in from the Infinite and the Unknown, and comes near enough to earth so that we may see something of its shining glory.  We watch with awe and wonder; but when all that can be seen by human eyes has passed into the darkness, and a cry is heard, ‘It is finished,’ we will know that a purpose goes on, beyond our vision, in the Infinite and the Unknown, and we cannot even imagine its scope or guess at its goal.”

Let’s retrace in our minds some of the events which are traditionally identified with this week (this does not mean they happened in this order, but the Church has felt it important to stand aside to recognise their significance):

• Jesus enters the city of Jerusalem, fulfilling messianic prophecy – it was a day of celebration.
  
• On Monday, Jesus weeps over Jerusalem and clears the Temple of the money changers.
  
• Tuesday – a day of teaching – a day when the critics built their case against him.
  
• Wednesday – a day when the gospel writers say nothing happened.  Is it a day of silence?
  
• Thursday – Jesus journeys back into Jerusalem and celebrates Passover with the disciples.  Gethsemane.
  
• Friday – We remember the betrayal of Judas, the arrest by the High Priests, the denial by Peter, the judgement by Pontius Pilate – it is a day of rejection.

In the fading light of Friday, with Saturday (the Jewish Sabbath) about to emerge, Jesus will die – for this is the day of the cross.  The cross struck fear into the hearts of people – it was the Roman way of controlling the masses.

According to Roman custom, the penalty of crucifixion was always preceded by scourging.  After the required punishment, the condemned person had to carry the cross – or at least the transverse beam – to the place of execution.  Mark’s gospel records the event with the simplest of words, “And they crucified him.” (Mark 15:24)

Funerals have always drawn crowds.  In 1965, 350 million people watched Winston Churchill’s funeral, enhanced by commentary by Sir Lawrence Olivier and former US President Eisenhower.  In 1997, two billion people watched the funeral of Princess Diana.  When Eva Perón died, a thirty day mourning period was declared in Argentina.  Ministers who didn’t wear the requisite armbands and ties were arrested.  When Jesus died, it was no ceremonial occasion – and there was to be no funeral.

It seems strange to me how tragic circumstances draw a crowd.  The world over, the story is the same.  When a natural disaster happens, police have to turn tourists and holidaymakers away.  Charles Dickens painted a picture of those who sat knitting while people were executed, in one of his most celebrated works ‘A Tale of Two Cities’.

In Jesus’ day, people were no different.  There were always gatherings at Golgotha to witness the Romans’ grizzliest handiwork.  What would draw people from their jobs and their families was the sight of people dying.  It is this context that leads me to my text: “The people stood watching.” (Luke 23:35) 

In Matthew they sat down and watched.  How they watched is not the issue, but that they watched.  I ask myself on this Good Friday: ‘What was it that they saw?’  The answer is simple – they saw the crucifixion.  But, of course, I ask the question at an entirely different level.
What the crowd saw was –

Humanity's ultimate indignity – v. 33

As the crowd stood watching, the love of God was displayed for all the world.  But it was the ultimate indignity with which Jesus dies at the request of men and women of his day that leads us to see that it is not Jesus who dies with indignity, but the crowd and the actors in the drama who reveal theirs.  Their indignity is shown as we observe –

• The last extremity of pain and shame
  

The death and resurrection of Jesus is the great theme of the New Testament.  It is the prevailing thought in the minds of the writers and they have much to say about it.  You only have to consider the amount of space given to the Passion in each of the gospels.  It has inspired the finest of music and drama. 

However, we must not rush on to interpret and to seek to apply – without at least observing his pain.  In one sense, we will only begin to grasp the wonder of his love by seeing the extent of his love.  Our concentration today is not upon the sorrow of those who follow, though undoubtedly their sorrow is real, but on the pain of the One who dies for us.

In a recent broadcast debate I was challenged by the fact that many people died by crucifixion and that we have placed far too much emphasis upon Jesus’ sufferings.  It may well be fair to argue that many did indeed die in this way, but the real issue before us is that the One who is dying is the Son of God himself.

• A Saviour who is unrecognised

We cannot begin to understand the ministry of Jesus without grasping the fact that he is the Saviour of the world as we know it – and even that which we do not understand.

In the infancy narratives in Matthew, we have Joseph’s acceptance of the circumstances pertaining to the birth of Jesus and, in a dream, an angel communicates with him that he is to take Mary home as his wife “and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21)

Jesus had displayed the saving power of God, bringing dignity and worth to people, reaching out to the lost and the outcast, offering wholeness to the fragmented lives of humanity; his saving power is in all he did.  But this Saviour dies in relative obscurity and ignominy on a cross.

• The mocking of One who deserved far better
  

The soldiers mocked him.  Was it their way of handling such a situation?  I can remember, as a young minister, when writing dramas for Good Friday, finding that there were always volunteers to play the soldiers.  In one sense you could step outside of the drama.  They will jeer, play games for his clothes and be able to distance themselves from what is actually taking place.

We are told that the people stood watching and the rulers even sneered at him, pointing to the fact that he saved others and he can’t save himself.  Soldiers came up and mocked him.  They offered him wine vinegar and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.” (v.37)

Looking back over history, a Napoleon or a Caesar, who was willing to sacrifice huge numbers of people to gratify their ambition, is admired – at least for a time!  But Jesus, who is only willing to sacrifice himself, is derided.

Humanity's varying responses – v.v. 36, 39 and 40

Yes, the crowd stood watching, but there were many within that crowd who characterised the different responses to Jesus:  there would be the self-righteous, those who had received healing from his touch, and there were those who taunted him.

As the heavy hammer blows drove the nails into place, the question on everyone’s lips must have been, ‘Why?’ 

Some of us can remember trips to the cinema with A and B movies and continuous screening.  You could inadvertently enter in the middle of a film!  If this happened and you didn’t see the beginning, the ending was also likely to be a mystery to you.  The cast can be a jumble of unknown characters and the plot confusing.

If you had stumbled on the events of the cross and known nothing of what had gone before, it would be impossible to really understand what is happening.  But we observe the different responses:

• The rulers who sneered at him
  

Could it be that Jesus had questioned their power base – and those who had apparent strength of position and authority to get their own way were feeling undermined by this “pale Galilean”?
We are told, “… the rulers even sneered at him.” (v.35) 

They had played their part in ensuring the events unfolding before them had come to what they understood to be a satisfactory conclusion.  Is the sneering an attempt to take away their guilt and to justify their actions?

Dick Sheppard: “The Saviour of the world was no ascetic, no dream-haunted absentee from the paths that we poor folk must tread.  He passed our way and found it rougher than we do.  His lesson is, not how to die, but how to live that death may be but the gate that opens to a fuller life.”

• The soldiers who mocked him
  

We have explored what the soldiers did, but who were they?  They had been ordered to come; they would have much preferred to have been in the barracks.  Nobody ever talked about liking crucifixion duty. 

Stephen M Crotts writes, “Especially did they dislike crucifixion duty.  It wasn’t a pleasant sight to watch nails driven into human flesh.  Even the most battle-hardened soldier was horrified by it.  And it took so long for a man to die.  The hours crept by like an arthritic turtle.  So the men, indifferent to the death of Jesus, began gambling for the few belongings of the convicts.  It was their way of passing the awful time away.”

• The criminal who rebuked him

You cannot read the Passion narrative without being drawn to the criminals who die with Jesus and the response of one could be considered to be among the great dramas of the gospel.  There was something peculiarly contentious about the way Jesus was placed between two notable criminals.  Had they been associates of Barabbas?  We shall never know.  And yet it is not the arrangement, but the fact that he is numbered with transgressors that speaks so powerfully.

We are told, “One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him:  ‘Aren’t you the Messiah?  Save yourself and us!’” (v.39)

In the Lukan narrative, we move swiftly to the response of the other criminal, but we must not miss the fact that Jesus does not respond to such insults.  They do more harm to those who hurl them than they will ever do to him.

God's enduring promise – v.43

The indifferent and the self-righteous, those who could not understand, were gathered on that day at Calvary, as they watched the Son of God die.  However, there was one who perceived far more, who is worthy of consideration.  He was a common criminal, but unlike the rest of the onlookers, he understood something of what was really happening on the cross. 

His words flow as a response to his colleague criminal’s insults which were hurled at Jesus.  He rebuked his colleague, “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence?  We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve.  But this man has done nothing wrong.” (Luke 23: 40-41)  In that moment he turns to Jesus and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” (v.42)

The answer of Jesus was, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (v.43)

Let us look together at God’s enormous promise to the thief, which has enduring power for us as we observe it:

• Today
  

Amidst all those at the cross, this criminal began to understand what God was doing in the horror of Good Friday. 
There is something striking in the word ‘Today’.  It bridges the centuries and makes his grace available to you.

• You
  

It was in direct response to the criminal that Jesus offers his grace.  We see something of repentance in the dying thief.  This criminal was just as bad as the other; yet he gains, through God’s love, what he does not deserve.  His genuine sorrow was evident and it was the beginning of his understanding the salvation of God.

The simple truth is that if we do not see ourselves as sinful people, we do not see the need of a Saviour and we are, therefore, not in a place to receive what God has to offer.  So it is not a case of making people feel guilty; it is the recognition of wrong that brings us to the spot where we are able to receive his grace.

• In paradise
  

Far too much time has been spent in discussing ‘paradise’.  Paradise is a walled park or garden; it has its relationship with the Garden of Eden of the Old Testament and becomes eventually a type of the future kingdom of God.  You will remember that Paul uses the term as a present heavenly reality to which he was transported either physically or in a vision (2 Corinthians 12:2). 

E Earl Ellis discusses the matter at some length and suggests, “Luke declares that in his death and resurrection Jesus opened the gates of Paradise …”

The main point is that Jesus gifts to this repentant criminal that which he had given to no other.  Fellowship with Christ will replace any worldly attraction of the life to be.  As A R C Leaney suggested, “For Luke Jesus is clearly the Messiah who makes paradise available for the penitent.”

God's greatest revelation – v.v. 44-47

In one sense, all those who gathered at the cross in this darkest of moments represent our lives.  We may well find ourselves mingling in the crowd, not so much by presence but in the characters who speak so profoundly.  We may well watch the soldiers, Mary, the Pharisees, the dying thief – and in some profound way be able to identify with what is happening, albeit removed from our everyday experience.

• What was happening affects the whole created order – v.44

There is a veil of darkness which surrounds the suffering Son and the righteous Father.  It should not surprise us that the gospel writer talks about the veil of the Temple torn in two (v.45).  Eduard Schweizer talks about the miracle in the heavens matched by the miracle in the Temple.  If we can move beyond the complexity of the events themselves, I am certain that the gospel writer is telling us that what is happening upon the cross has a significance way beyond that particular point in time outside the city wall on Good Friday.  It is for the whole created order.

• We have the quiet surrender to the holy purposes of God – v.46

In this wonderful verse of scripture, we have two truths brought together with brilliance by the gospel writer.  He uses the concept of the loudness of Jesus voice to express the child’s prayer, which will be the final words of Jesus in this gospel.  Is the voice loud so that no-one can mistake it?  Does it appear loud because those who listened to this wonderful prayer heard it with such volume?

• We have one of the greatest confessions in the gospels – v.47

It does not surprise me that Luke’s gospel, which speaks powerfully of the good news for all the world, should prefigure the conversion of the Gentiles with this marvellous description of the centurion, which seems in sharp contrast to what we observe in all the other reactions in his account.

The last cry of Jesus firmly convinced the centurion that all he had done and said was true.

I came across some words by an Indian Christian, reflecting on the soldier at the cross:

"My mind is forever splintered
on the anvil of Time
and my spirit wanders restlessly
through the caverns of Eternity.
You ask me why.
I was an ordinary legionary in Jerusalem
nigh two thousand years ago.
One chill, windy morning
we nailed a Man to a cross.
(it was a routine job)
He died rather soon.
I remember throwing down the dice
(we were gambling for his clothes)
and, picking up my spear, a trusty weapon
that had seen me through many a skirmish
in Gaul and Libya,
I thrust it into his side
to make certain before telling the centurion.”
                                                            (Chandran Devanesen)

What a difference for the centurion – a man of order and discipline, who was convinced that what was before him was no mere pretence, nor drama with no relationship to him, but One worthy of a life’s devotion.  His reaction is so different from that of the people who left this glorious scene as “they beat their breasts and went away” (v.48).

I began this address by talking about the crowd who were watching.  Let me remind you how Luke concludes the scene at the cross:  “But all those who knew him, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.” (v.49)

Our hymns old and new speak powerfully on this day.  Philip Bliss wrote:

“In my place condemned he stood;
  Sealed my pardon with his blood:
  Alleluia!  What a Saviour!”

Graham Kendrick in our day has written:

“Amazing love, O what sacrifice,
  The Son of God given for me.
  My debt he pays and my death he dies,
  That I might live, that I might live.”

In the cross we see inhumanity at its lowest … and magnanimity at its highest!