SERMON FOR MAUNDY THURSDAY-2011
“Today thou shalt be with me in Paradise.” -St. Luke 23:43
We don’t like the Cross. We don’t like to look at it, be reminded of it or have it around. It reminds us of the hatred and evil that would condemn anyone to such a death, much less an innocent man, and even more so the son of God. It reminds us too much of suffering and of sin and of the fact that our own kind, not just Jews, but gentiles would engage in such barbarity. Wouldn’t we just rather have that plain old cross, maybe with an IHS in the middle-what some folks like to call a resurrection Cross? On this night in which Christ began his journey to the Cross, I stand before you to tell you that to ignore the Cross, particularly to ignore it because of suffering-avoidance, is to ignore the very saving act of Christ to the destruction of Christianity. That is what is at stake onthis Maundy Thursday 2011.
I am not conjuring a theme for tonight’s homily-I will let the modern heretic, the nouveau apostate, the postmodern pagan speak for themselves. Themes at a 1993 conference of major denomination theologians, themes that have been reprised in conferences with ever-increasing frequency included destroying traditional Christian faith, adopting ancient pagan beliefs, rejecting Jesus’ divinity and His atonement on the cross, creating a goddess in the conferee’s own image, and, of course, affirming lesbianism. Their goal and objective was that Christ would be put down and the feminist goddess, Sophia, would now be accepted in all of the world churches and denominations. At the center of this was the need for self-affirmation and a world of seeming pleasure, devoid of the suffering caused by Christianity.
Delores Williams, theology professor at New York’s Union Theological Seminary, told the gathering: “I don’t think we need a theory of atonement at all…Atonement has to do so much with death…I don’t think we need folks hanging on crosses and blood dripping and weird stuff…We just need to listen to the god within.” Easy god, feel good god, pain free god, self god. All of this is grounded in the desire to flee from the pain of being incarnate, the pain of sin, the weight borne by Christ on the Cross at the hands of people trying to escape the searing pain of the convicting truth embodied in Jesus the Christ.
But suppose one can’t escape suffering (no one can, really)? Suppose suffering its one dead on. There are two kinds of responses: 1) We can rail against God and say, “If you are such a great and powerful and loving God, why am I in this hellish mess?” That’s the immediate post-modern response. It is even the response of the disciples this terrible night as they flee Christ’s side. All but John will be far from the Cross and the suffering of Christ, and even Peter, the one who had just proclaimed his loyalty unto death, would deny Christ three times. And he would weep bitterly.
Or we can acknowledge that we are sinners and that we don’t deserve any good thing, and cry out for mercy and help in our time of desperation. Beloved, the world is full of those who rail against God in their self-righteousness and presume that the creator of the universe obliged to make their life smooth and faith easy, neat and clean. There are only a few who own up to the fact that God owes us nothing, and that any good to come our way will be due to his mercy, and not our merit.
Luke’s text about the two thieves crucified with Christ teach us that there is no great reward for responding to suffering and to the Cross like the first sort of person. Those two thieves who this night would have been awaiting their execution represent these two ways of responding to suffering and relating to Christ in suffering. Let’s take a close look at them and their response to the Cross.
Notice first how similar they are. Both are suffering the pain of crucifixion. Both are guilty of crime (“We are receiving the due reward of our deeds,” v.41). Both see Jesus, the superscription over his head (“King of the Jews,” v. 38); they hear the words from his mouth (“Father forgive them,” v. 34). And both of these thieves want desperately to be saved from death.
Most of us have all these things in common with these two thieves: there has been, is, or will be suffering in our lives. None of us will be able to say: “I do not deserve this.” Most of us have seen Jesus on the cross and have heard his claim to kingship and his gracious words of forgiveness. And all of us want to be saved from death one way or the other.
But then the ways divide these two thieves and between two categories of people. The first thief says, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” What a picture of a spiritually destitute, worldly man. It is a matter of total indifference to him that he is suffering “the due reward of his deeds.” To him right and wrong, praise and blame, good and bad are of no interest: his one objective is to save his earthly skin. He might even believe Jesus is the Messiah, the King of the Jews. But, it’s only a matter of convenience to him: he’ll take anybody as king who can get him off the cross. Just another shill to serve his own worldly purposes.
That’s the way one whole segment of humans relate to God in suffering. Suffering interrupts their own private worldly goals and pleasures. So why not try God; if you are king, then get me out of this mess. One writer described this as tire theology. A tire-jack is a dirty, useless thing to be kept out of sight in the trunk until you have a flat tire (a little suffering). Then you get it out, let it do the dirty work and put it away again. Here is Christ-scourged, bleeding, not a fit person to look at. “If you’re so useful, take me down off this cross, Jesus.” Or, to put it another way, “If you’re so useful, lift me up out of this sickness, out of this financial mess, out of this lousy job, and so on.”
The thief had no spirit of brokenness, or guilt or penitence or humility. He could only see Jesus as a possible power by which to escape the cross. He did not see him as a king to be followed. It never entered his mind that he should say he was sorry and should change.
But notice the other thief: this one is the one Luke wants us to be like. First, he is not drawn in by the other man’s railing. If we are to follow his example we too will have to stand our ground and not be taken in by the people all around us who say, “If your God is so great and loving, then why the 20 kids shot in Atlanta? Why sixteen miners buried in a cave? Why a village of your fellow Christians slaughtered in Sudan?” “Why suffering? Why doesn’t he come down off his helpless perch on the cross and do something?”
The first thing the repentant thief does is not get deceived by all this talk. “But he rebuked him saying, ‘Do you not fear God?’” This is the second thing about this penitent thief: he feared God. God was real to him. God was his creator, and he knew that a pot can’t take up arms against the potter and come away victorious. It is fitting that creatures bow in submission before their creator and subject all their life to his wisdom. It is even more fitting that sinful creatures bow before God in holy fear, instead of railing against HIM.
Third, the penitent thief admitted that he had done wrong: “We are receiving the due reward of our deeds” (v. 41). He had no guile, no desire to save face any more; he had no more will to assert himself much less become his own god. He was here and laid open before the God he feared and there was no way to hide has guilt.
You and I know people right now who are in trouble-this very night they are in a world of trouble. But instead of laying down their self-righteous defenses, they are devising every means to weasel and inagle and distort so as to appear innocent and cool. The penitent thief gave it up. It’s a hopeless tack, anyway, before an all-knowing God!
Fourth, not only did he admit to wrong and guilt, he accepted his punishment as deserved. The penitent evildoer’s confession of sin and of faith shows the proper response to Jesus’ absolution (Cyril of Alexandria). The penitent thief is not ashamed of Christ’s suffering and does not see it as a stumbling block, and so he makes a confession of faith in the suffering, innocent Messiah. He sees on Christ’s body his own wounds, and despite the reality of Christ’s suffering and imminent death, he goes on to voice an even stronger confession: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom”
This is the real test of humility before God. Many will mouth the confession of sin: “God be merciful to us miserable offenders get angry at him. And this anger reveals that they do not really feel undeserving before God. They still feel, deep down, that they have some rights before God. There are not many people like Job, who, when he lost everything, said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb and naked shall I return; the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” But this penitent thief did become like Job in the last minutes of his life – he took his suffering without complaint, and feared God.
Fifth, the thief acknowledged Jesus’ righteousness: “This man had done nothing wrong.” It didn’t make any difference to the first thief if Jesus was right or wrong. If he could drive the get-away car — that’s all that mattered. But it matters a lot to Jesus if we think his life was good or bad. Jesus does not want to drive a get-away car; he wants to be followed because we admire him. We must say with the thief: “This man has done nothing wrong.” This man only does what is good. This man only speaks the truth. This man is worthy of our faith and allegiance and imitation.
And then, sixth, the thief goes a step further and acknowledges that indeed, Jesus is a King. “Remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” Even though he is suffering now, Jesus has the mark of a King. For those who have eyes to see, he has a power here on the cross — a power of love that makes him King over all his tormentors. He is not only good, he is powerful, and one day will vindicate his great name, and every knee will bow and confess that Jesus is Lord — to the glory of God, the Father.
And finally, the penitent thief does one more thing. He fears God, admits wrong, accepts justice, acknowledges the goodness and power of Jesus. Now he pleads for help. “Jesus, remember when you come into your Kingdom.” Both thieves wanted to be saved from death. But O how differently they sought their salvation: 1) “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 2) “Jesus, remember when you come into your Kingdom!” There is an infinite qualitative difference between “Save me!” and “Save me!”
Now what motive does Jesus give us to follow in the steps of the penitent thief? There is a fearful silence toward the railing thief: not a word recorded of Jesus to him. Perhaps a final pitying glance. But no promise. No hope.
But to the penitent Jesus says: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” This was almost too good. There would not even be a delay. Today the Spirit of Jesus and the renewed Spirit of the thief would be in union in Paradise. The promise would be without delay.
What is this paradise? The word is found in two other places in the New Testament. First, in 2 Cor. 12:3: Paul says, “I know a man in Christ, who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven – whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know; God knows. And I know that this man was caught up into Paradise — whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know, God knows — and he heard things which cannot be told, which man may not utter.” Thus Paradise is the heavenly abode of God where there are found things prepared by God for those who love him, which are utterly indescribable (1 Cor. 2:9). The second place the word “Paradise” is found is in Rev. 2:7. Here Jesus says to the church at Ephesus, “To him who conquers, I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the Paradise of God.” And if we look at the end of the book of Revelation we find that the tree of life is in the heavenly city of God. In Rev. 22:1 John said, “Then he showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.”
But in all this, the one thing that Jesus chose to mention to the repentant thief on the cross (if you can only say one thing, what do you say?) “You will be with me todayThe penitent thief considered the cross of Christ not to be a stumbling block but power rightly merits paradise. The same apostle says, “To those Jews who have been called, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.”43 The Lord also correctly gives paradise to him, because on the gibbet of the cross the thief confesses the one whom Judas Iscariot had sold in the garden. This is a remarkable thing. The thief confesses the one whom the disciple denied! This is a remarkable thing, I say. The thief honors the one who suffers, while Judas betrayed the one who kissed him! The one peddled flattering words of peace, and the other preached the wounds of the cross. He says, “Remember me, Lord, when you come in your kingdom.”
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