And so we come to
it, the cross. This Sunday is not only
Palm Sunday, but the Sunday of the Passion.
It is the last Sunday before Easter.
It begins Holy Week. Our solemn
remembrance of Christ’s passion – his suffering, his crucifixion, and his
death. The Gospel reading today from St.
Matthew takes us to the cross. There we
stand, virtually, through the Word of God, at the foot of the cross. There we see Jesus and all that happened to
him. We become witnesses, through the
Evangelist, of the darkest day, the day of God’s wrath, the day in which
creation itself mourned the death of God’s Son.
But also a very necessary day for our salvation.
Today I’d like to
walk us through this text, and hold up various moments and details, many of
which are worthy of a sermon in their own right. Consider with me, St. Matthew, and all
Christians everywhere, as we go to the cross with Jesus.
First, consider that
Jesus is crucified between two thieves.
Numbered with transgressors. Now
of course this fulfills the prophecy of Scripture. But there is more here. From his very incarnation, the Holy Son of
God is numbered with transgressors. In
taking on human flesh, he makes himself one of us, though he himself had no
sin. In his baptism, he does the same,
now publicly, baptized to fulfill all righteousness, though he had no sins of
his own to wash away. Now, he hangs on a
cross, condemned for crimes he did not commit, and for supposed blasphemy and
sedition, and for who knows what trumped up reasons. But he is numbered with sinners for God’s
highest purpose, to take the place of sinners under God’s wrath. To save sinners from themselves, from death
and devil. That cross is your cross,
sinner. And Jesus takes your place. So that you, forgiven by his blood, take a
new place at his side in life and in glory.
And speaking of
blasphemy, that’s another thing that happens here. But it’s not Jesus – it’s his enemies. They mock and deride him by their foul words. Wagging their heads and tongues at him. Sneering and chiding. Just look who joins in the jeering: those who passed by, also the chief priests,
the soldiers who stood watch, and even the criminals who hung beside him. It’s as if the whole world is united in the
devlish revelry. There is no veneer of
polite pleasantry. There is no sham sympathy
for a dying man, or even common decency.
The gloves have come off. The
true wicked nature is revealed. The
world is united against the Son of God.
The devil has his day.
But those enemies of
Christ stand in for all the enemies of God.
All of us who bear the sin of Adam and the forked tongue of a sinful
nature – we have spoken ill. Our own
mouths have mocked and derided the Holy One in various ways. We are just as guilty.
But Jesus rather
offers kind words. He utters saving
words. He brings promises and
forgiveness even to those who ridiculed him then, and speak foul things
now. His word is a better word. His word of grace has the last word.
And at the sixth
hour darkness falls, until the night hour.
From noon to three. Some churches
mark this on Good Friday with a 3 hour service called a Tre Ore. Jesus marked it by crying out with the words
of Psalm 22, acknowledging the sheer agony he faced. The worst of it wasn’t the nails, the thorns,
the mockery or shame. It was being
forsaken by his Father. This is the true
suffering of the cross. Bearing the sins
of the world. Enduring the scorn of Holy
God. That he who knew no sin was made to
be sin for us. The object of all
punishment, wrath, and condemnation. A
spiritual reality we cannot even fathom.
A depth of sorrow, by God’s grace, we will never know. Oh, dearest, dearest Jesus who did this for
us.
They filled a sponge with some sour wine and gave it to him
(for he had said, “I thirst”) and he wet his tongue for one final declaration, “it
is finished” and then to commended his spirit to the hands of the Father. And the Lord of life died.
This had no small effect.
The temple, that focal point of Israel, of Jerusalem, really
of the world – the place God had promised to dwell in his Holy of Holies – something
quite strange happens. The curtain is torn in two. The curtain – that thick fabric barrier that
separated the Holy and gracious presence of God from anyone but the High Priest
– and then only once a year – the curtain that stood for the separation between
Holy God and his now unholy and fallen people, the curtain is torn in two. The veil of separation rent asunder. The priests standing in the temple must have
gasped and fainted at the sight. But to
us the meaning is clear. The separation of God and man is no more. At the death of Jesus, God tears the curtain
– it was torn from the top down, you see.
At the death of Jesus, God is accessible to his people again, even
heaven itself is re-opened.
The creation itself also reacts. The sun had already darkened. Now the earth quaked and rocks split. An earth-shattering something had just taken
place, and even terra firma gave witness.
This is a foretaste of the final destruction of creation that will
happen when Jesus comes at the end of time.
But the cross has now guaranteed it.
Similarly, we get a foretaste of the resurrection with this
strange detail – that the graves of many holy people opened up, that their
bodies were raised, and that after Christ’s resurrection they also appeared to
many in Jerusalem. Another preview of
something greater to come – when all the dead in Christ are one day raised –
when all of us will appear before him, as he appears in the flesh before us. And the cross has now guaranteed it.
The effects of the cross ripple through space and time,
forward and back, touching all people of all times and places. The cross is the crux of all history, the
focal point of Divine justice and mercy, the most important, most central event
for all and forever – and for you. He
did it for you, dear child of God.
And not all mocked and jeered Christ’s death. The centurion gave witness, perhaps in spite
of himself, that this man truly was the Son of God. Powerful words from a pagan. Perhaps even repentant words from one who had
a hand in what just happened. But the
cross of Jesus can do that too, bring sinners to repentance.
And not all the Jews mocked Jesus either. Finally Joseph and Nicodemus came and showed
honor to the body of Christ. They
anointed him and buried him with respect.
It took courage so to do. And
these two wise Jewish leaders who brought him gifts of honor, in a way parallel
the visit of the wise men, who also brought fragrant gifts to Jesus. At his birth, and at his death, honored and
recognized by the wise. So we do well to
honor Christ, and recognize him by faith, from our own cradle, to our own
grave.
The two Marys witnessed the burial. Here is an important detail. They knew exactly where Jesus was. They knew the grave. They saw the stone. This sets the stage. For these women will return to the tomb on
Sunday to finish the burial customs. And
what a joyous surprise they will find. They
will become witnesses even to the apostles, that the Jesus who died is alive.
To further set up the great cliff-hanger of history, the
Jews pay Jesus one final insult. They
ask Pilate for guards to secure the tomb.
They heard Jesus well enough to know the promise of the resurrection,
and they feared it. The bitter irony of
their own self-deception that shut their hearts more tightly than that sealed
grave. They rejected who Jesus was and
what he said he would do. It wasn’t that
they didn’t hear or understand him, they didn’t believe him.
But you and I know different. Jesus is who he says he is, and he does what
he says he will do. None of this
suffering and crucifixion, nasty business as it was, should have surprised
anyone. For Jesus had told them it was
coming. The gospels say he spoke of it
plainly, and repeatedly. And Jesus also
spoke as plainly about his resurrection on the third day, for which we now wait
to celebrate with bated breath.
It may be, that for a time, friends, our churches are as
locked and sealed to us as that borrowed tomb. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be with
Jesus. It doesn’t separate us from his
cross. It may feel as if the guards are on watch, keeping us at bay. But Jesus will not be deterred or held back,
by a stone, by Roman guards, or even by death itself. For your life he has destroyed death. And by his life, he brings life and
immortality to light. So even the
crosses of this life, which we bear as we follow him, are only temporary, they
are all passing, and there’s life on the horizon for you and me, too.
His words are always true.
And his promise to be with you always, even to the end of the age,
transcends the boundaries of time and space and quarantine.
In the Name of Jesus. Amen.
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