Sermons

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Look . . . and Listen
March 9, 2003
Pastor Dan Baumgartner
1st in a Lenten sermon series on the Seven Last Words of Christ
John 19:17-27

On this first Sunday of Lent, we begin a look at what have become known as “The Seven Last Words of Christ…,” the things which the gospels report that Jesus said from the cross. Turn with me to John 19:17-27.

When we were in France this summer, one of the huge treats was getting to spend a few hours in the Louvre, the world-renowned art museum in Paris. It was truly incredible. The Louvre had so many great works of art…some that I knew, many that I didn’t…that in a few hours you couldn’t begin to appreciate it all. It wasn’t enough time for me…and not nearly enough for Anne. One of the surprising things … was the size of a number of the paintings. Some of them were just huge, taking up an entire wall…maybe 24 feet tall and 18 feet wide, detailed, beautiful paintings. One in particular that we spent quite a bit of time at was called “The Wedding at Cana,” by Veroness. And the interesting thing about these huge paintings was that the longer you studied them…the more you realized how many different things are going on in one picture.

I want you to imagine with me this morning that you are standing with me in a museum, and that we are staring up at this huge, huge painting that depicts our scripture passage of the crucifixion of Jesus. So we stand looking at this brutal, but imminently fascinating scene, and as our eyes start to focus in, we notice some of the details:

1) Certainly we notice Jesus himself, hanging on the cross. It’s not a pretty sight. Never did the Romans use crucifixion in Rome, or even in Italy proper. Always in was in the outer provinces. Never would a Roman citizen undergo such an execution, but only slaves or hardened criminals. Cicero, the Roman writer once called crucifixion

“…the most cruel and horrifying death. It is a crime for a Roman citizen to be bound, it is a worse crime for him to be beaten, it is a brutality for him to be killed…what am I to say if he be killed on a cross?”

Jesus was already badly beaten and bruised and bleeding before he ever had the spikes driven into him to hold him to the cross. And so in the center of this picture is Jesus, hanging there so stark and full of pain that we almost want to look away.

2) Our eyes wander up the cross, above Jesus, and we see a rough little wooden sign nailed to the top of the cross. It is the inscription that Pilate had placed there: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” The letters are small, but readable. The inscription is written three times on the rough wood, in Hebrew, in Latin and in Greek. The national language of the Jews, the official language of the Roman conquerors, and the common language of the Mediterranean. Golgotha, you see, is quite a public place, and Jerusalem is in some ways the crossroads of the world. The crucified were hung there in a very public way…partially as a deterrent to other criminals. It is a bitter irony that Jesus, the One of whom this gospel says “Behold, the lamb of God who takes away the sin OF THE WORLD”…hangs on a cross in such a public place, the traffic of the world going by and the languages of the world surrounding His head as he dies.

3) Our eyes travel down the cross to the ground below, where there are four soldiers sitting, apparently unconcerned that a life is ending just a few feet away. They sit like a bunch of guys playing poker and drinking beer. As is their custom, they split up the last possessions of Jesus: probably a belt, sandals, a head covering, a tunic. They gamble for the tunic, seeing what final thing they might get from Jesus, how they might use him to their advantage. It is the sum total of their interest in Jesus: “What might I get from Him?”

Crass as they seem, the soldiers are perhaps not so unlike us. Sometimes we talk about faith as though it were part of a cost-benefit analysis. “If I do something for God, what will I get in return?” That is a long way from the relationship God wants. I believe God wants His presence and love to be so good, so overpowering we would follow Him, that we acknowledge him with our lives regardless of any cost OR benefit…just out of response, because it is right, because our spirit wells up inside of us, because we can do nothing else.

4) We look even closer at what is in the hands of the soldiers: a tunic, without seams, woven in one piece. Probably the most valuable thing that Jesus had to his name, though not uncommon. In fact, it was a common custom in that day for mothers to weave such a garment for their sons. We don’t know. Perhaps Mary wove this one for Jesus.

5) We look closer still, and see, also near the cross, another group of people. At least four women are there and a man. Imagine standing there, looking up at a person you love dearly…and you are utterly powerless. All of the might of Rome, all of the hatred of the religious leaders is stacked against him. There is literally nothing they can do. You have felt that way sometime. Perhaps when someone you love is very, very sick. Perhaps you feel that way about the possibility of a war…the feelings roll around, events are unfolding…and there is nothing you can do about it. You feel powerless.

And so the group stands there as Jesus bleeds and sweats and labors. They say, just by their presence, the only thing they can say: “We are here. We are with you. We care. There is nothing we can do for you.” They never thought they would be in that spot. Never thought, as people of faith, that they could be in such pain. Never thought, perhaps, that God would allow that. Yet there they stand looking up at: their Lord, their teacher, their role model, their friend…their son.

So we stand, looking up at this huge canvas, noticing detail after detail. We have looked closely. But now we must listen. For Jesus is going to speak. He is, in fact, going to give one of his seven sermons from the cross. Jesus is quite a preacher. We have looked at his great sermon, the Sermon on the Mount from Matthew. We have read his stories, his parables, his teachings, his arguments. But now, all of who he is and what he will say is boiled down, distilled into just a few fragments…and they are very important.

In all seven…we will be struck by the fact that even on the cross…Jesus is quite deliberate. I believe that when we finish them all, we will be struck by the fact that even on the cross, Jesus is strangely in control. “In control” in the sense that He will bring about what God has desired. Circumstances and evil will not deter what God has wanted from the beginning to accomplish in Jesus. Sometimes we have a tendency to think that as soon as Jesus was arrested, He became the helpless victim. Nothing can be further from the truth. Even here, Jesus sees God’s purposes through to completion. He is strangely in control.

Jesus looks up and sees his friend, his “Beloved Disciple” there…and Mary his mother. And he calls out to Mary, “Woman, here is your son.” And to John, “Here is your mother.” It is a profound moment. Some of the Bible commentators want to talk about this as the early point in the establishment of the church. That the community which is spun from the “family” of Mary and John, is a start of the community of faith in Jesus which, against all odds, exploded out into the world. It’s an interesting thought. That Jesus, who scripture (John, in fact) says was involved in the creation of the world…is still here involved in creation…the creation of a family, of a community that would be about kingdom work.

It’s an interesting thought. But it’s not the thought that struck me this week. What struck me this week was very simple. When the day was darkest (Matthew, Mark and Luke all comment that at this point in the story “darkness came over the whole land”)…when the day was darkest and the forces of the world and politics and religion were all opposed to Jesus…his concern was to bring these people together. Just two people, to give one a son, and one a mother. When the day was darkest and Jesus’ own life hung in the balance…his thoughts were for a mother who would be griefstricken, and a friend who would be lonesome…not for himself.

The day is dark in our world right now, friends. The clouds of war seem to become darker and darker each day. Events are unfolding on a worldwide stage in country after country and there are few signs of light.

I have had many people ask me, “What do you think about the possibility of war?” Yesterday at our new members class, I had someone ask me how I decided whether or not to talk from the pulpit about world events, about politics, about issues…like war.

In most cases, I avoid politics like the plague. I try each week to listen for God’s word. In that light, it rarely seems to me to be the word of God whether or not we have a monorail, or who gets elected as mayor. But war. A war is something beyond simple politics. Wars are about misery, death, dying. War is about orphans and pain. War is about struggle and hatreds that last for generations. In our day, war has the potential to be about the loss of millions of lives.

Our world is dark with the threat of war. What do the scriptures say?

I cannot say that I read in the scripture that war is always wrong. And you know I love history…and when I look through history, I cannot say that war is always wrong. In the late 1930’s when Adolph Hitler and the Nazis were knocking off country after country in Europe, and beginning to draw the circle tighter and tighter around the Jews…I believe that WAS a time for war. And by and large, the world of nations missed it. Including the United States. Missed the opportunity to save millions and millions of lives, millions and millions of Jews by delaying and delaying. When I read the story of Dietrick Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who participated in a failed plot to assassinate Hitler and eventually was executed for it…I cannot say that there is never a time to stand and fight. I don’t see it in history. I don’t see it in scripture.

For me…the question then becomes “Is this the time?” Is the situation in Iraq at a point when our country should lead the world into war? You will have to answer that question for yourself. For myself…from what I know…it is not time. The sign on our front porch says “No War.” Not just “no war” in Iraq, but no war anywhere. War is something I pray against, and believe I can in good conscience pray against. If there is any possible way, any way at all to collectively bring about peace in the world…then I want to pursue it, right up until the very last resort. I don’t think we are in the “last resort” situation, not yet. You will have to decide for yourself. Regardless of what you or I think …I think we will agree that the days are dark.

The days were dark when Jesus hung there on the cross. The forces of humankind were aligned against him, there was no turning back, events had snowballed one after the other, and Jesus was dying. And He knew it. What would his sermon be? What could he say that would speak with the appropriate gravity, with the potential for change… what could Jesus say that might change the world? Into THAT blackness, Jesus said such a simple thing.

“Woman here is your son…and here is your mother.”

A simple word of love. A routine word of concern and care for those close to him that at first glance seems so inappropriate in the face of all that darkness.

But I believe it is a huge gift to us. In the hour of darkness and complexity, Jesus calls us to the simplicity of love, of relationship. World events, the things the media highlights as important…are not the only things that matter. So does the simple act. So does the word of love, so does the creation of community and the bringing together of people.

I talked this week with a friend who comes to the Wednesday Night Dinners on occasion. He is on an extremely low income, barely scraping enough money for extremely subsidized housing. And as we talked about the near impossibility of him paying to heat his apartment, he said, “Last night, I had a homeless person sleep at my apartment. He has nothing. I have a place.” That was a word of love. Very simple. It won’t solve the problems of homelessness or anything else. But it brings people together.

When we were leaving Minneapolis, I preached a final sermon. Many people had asked me what they could pray for us as we moved. So I told the congregation…that I was scared to move back to Seattle. And that I really needed to know, in all my anxiety and insecurity, something very simple: that God loved me. One couple in their 80’s, Howie and June…took it upon themselves to do that. For the last four years, I have periodically received a postcard from them that says, “Hope you are well. Minneapolis is cold!” And each time it ends very simply: “Don’t forget…God loves you.” It has been a word of love each and every time it has arrived. Small, in the face of darkness and anxiety. But so very important.

As we pray, read and listen to the incredible turmoil of the world…what is the simple word of love that Christ would call you to speak or act out? The word that would in some way create or strengthen community, or affirm the people in your life, or draw someone in? I think Jesus realized that we are so easily paralyzed by the dark clouds. We sit around like the soldiers, wondering only what we can get from Jesus. Or we stand around, helpless and powerless like Jesus’ friends. And maybe that’s why his first sermon from the cross was so simple:

“Woman, here is your son….And here is your mother.”

It’s quite a picture. Let’s pray.