Sunday, April 20, 2025

Joy comes in the morning!

I'm posting my Good Friday reflection below - I was one of seven preachers on Friday night at our church as we each reflected on the last seven phrases Jesus uttered from the cross before his death. There's power in sitting in the despair and hopelessness of Friday and its power lies in setting the scene for the joy and hope that come on Easter morning. Lent is finished; resurrection has occurred. Death has been defeated. May your day, and this season, be infused with the kind of hope that can't be dulled by the weight of the world!

Good Friday is Good Because Sunday is Coming...

Do you find yourself trying to avoid picturing Golgotha? I try not to imagine the scene on the mountain where Jesus was crucified. The image of Jesus hanging on a cross, flanked on both sides by convicted criminals who’d been sentenced to death, makes me wince. It’s barbaric and unnatural – three men, stripped and humiliated, nailed to wood, suffocating under their own body weight. And the crowd that just stood there watching them die makes me mad. They were somehow convinced they were superior to the men hanging and dying in front of them. It should be part of a horror movie. Whenever I get to this part of the story, I prefer to focus only on Jesus. I prefer to focus on the way Jesus infuses tenderness into torture and they way he offers mercy even while he’s in terrible pain. Focusing on his tenderness and mercy offers my senses some relief. Jesus sanitizes the scene because in the midst of this supremely human experience, his response is divine.

I want to celebrate the criminal’s newfound faith as he asks Jesus to remember her when he comes into his kingdom. But what about the other criminal? I want to forget about the one who tried to put Jesus to the test and focus only on the one who was “right”. It’s easier for me to turn the criminal who was trying to save himself by trying to convince Jesus to display his power into an object lesson about trust and faithful living, but I don’t think that’s what Jesus did.

Instead, Jesus, in the middle of his suffering, prayed that God would forgive all the people who didn’t realize what they were doing. And then Jesus turned to a dying man begging Jesus to remember him and reassures him saying, “Truly I Tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” But what about the criminal who taunted Jesus? I wonder how his story ended. Did he get condemned for not begging to be remembered? Did God’s forgiveness stop short of the one who tried to test the reality that Jesus was the Messiah?

I’ve always clung to the idea that I certainly don’t have a place in this story. I would never do anything to put myself in the position of the criminals. I’m far too wise to land myself in that kind of hot water, aren’t I? Maybe you feel that way, too? The story I tell myself is this is a cautionary tale – make good choices, don’t break the law, don’t end up in court and lawyer up to avoid being sentenced to death. But, when I’m honest, I’ve been the criminal who begged Jesus to prove his power by saving me. I’ve prayed prayers that tested God’s providence, and I’ve made unrealistic promises to never mess up again if God would fix just one thing. That makes me no different that the criminal who tried to appeal to Jesus’ ego. While there have been times whenI’ve had the clarity of mind to beg for mercy, I am no less a sinner than the two convicted criminals hanging on either side of our Savior at Golgotha.

Every time we cling to a crowd who finds safety in numbers and assures each other the people around us dying and suffering have done something to secure their own fate, we’re no less sinners than the convicted criminals hanging on either side of Jesus. Every time we choose to remain silent because it’s more convenient than speaking out against injustice, we’re no less sinners than the convicted criminals hanging on either side of Jesus. Every time we turn a blind eye to those in need around us instead of seeing God’s image in each person we meet, we are no less sinners than the convicted criminals hanging on either side of Jesus. And no matter how many times we test our Savior and challenge him to prove his power, our Savior responds in his divinity, having already tenderly appealed to God to forgive us. When we beg to be remembered, Jesus replies lovingly saying, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Amen.


Wednesday, April 2, 2025

Prepping for Good Friday

It's a weird thing to think about preparing for Good Friday - which is decidedly not named to reflect the heartbreak and cosmic grief that day represents in the Christian tradition. Yet, it's my favourite service of the liturgical year in our church! I'm honored to be among the 7 preachers at the service again this year - it'll be my 4th year offering a 2-3 minute reflection on one of the seven last "words" (they're actually sentences - at the very least, phrases) of Jesus. This year, my assigned text comes from the Gospel of Luke - chapter 23, verse 43. This "word" is a response to a criminal's request to please remember him when they both get to heaven. 

Here's the scene - Jesus is hanging on a cross that's situated between two other crosses where 2 other people are hanging. The place they're hanging (literally - there are spikes in their hands and their feet, they're suffocating, people are beating them and watching them slowly die as if it's a spectator sport) is called "The Skull". It's a horror movie - there's blood, there's gasping, there are people who can't look away despite being scarred by what they're seeing. And the two men hanging on either side of Jesus (who is a true, historical figure AND the Messiah) are in rather a pissing match. One is taunting Jesus - "So you're the Son of Man, eh? Prove it - save us and save yourself!" (v. 39) The other is in the midst of a deathbed reckoning and is coming to faith - "DUDE - how can you be such a dolt? Can't you see this man did nothing wrong? I mean, you and I are guilty as charged, but this guy in the middle is innocent. Jesus - please remember me when you come into your kingdom." (v. 40-42) And Jesus looks at the man who's contrite in his last minutes of life and says, "Don't worry, you'll join me in paradise today." (v. 43)

OK - here's the curveball! Just a few verses prior to this whole exchange Jesus prays to God, "Father forgive them, they don't know what they're doing." (v. 34-35) This is the "word" immediately preceding the one I'm assigned and if I hold this word alongside Jesus' promise to the contrite criminal, I don't know that I actually believe Jesus is lifting up the one who sees him as Messiah any higher than the one he's asked God to forgive just a few verses prior. I've often heard this passage preached in such a way that made me think the taunting criminal was going straight to hell, and the one who saw Jesus as blameless and wanted to be with him was going straight to heaven. However, I'm really not all that sure... Jesus knows the condition of humanity and has appealed to God in heaven on our behalf to forgive us, offering not only his physical body as a sacrifice but also asking God directly to forgive our inability to see the truth. So, really, what I hear in this story when I hold the words together is that Jesus is making space for all of us to be with him in Paradise. Maybe that sounds heretical? 

It also makes me feel some level of comfort because I am 100% confident I've been the taunting criminal before - trying to test God as a means of protecting myself. I wish I could honestly say that I have always identified with the contrite criminal, but I KNOW that's a lie. When I consider the number of times I've been blind to the presence of Jesus right beside me, I'm a little embarrassed. I'm probably unaware of the times I've responded to Jesus right beside me with snark and disbelief. I'm going to be pondering on this awhile and reading up on commentaries to see what scholars think about the whole exchange. I wonder what you might think? Did Jesus admit one criminal to heaven and kick the other one out? When Jesus asked God to forgive the people because they didn't know what they were doing, did that forgiveness extend to these criminals too? Does it extend to me when my vision is clouded and I'm being sassy?