I hadn’t really planned on talking about this, and you’ll probably hear more in coming weeks. But when I came to work on yesterday morning, there were police cars all around Bethany. A 75-year old man named Russ Luke had died on the steps of the church just outside my office.

Luke was a friend of mine, and others. He’d come to Bethany through the Wednesday Night Dinner. Most likely his heart had given out, he was in poor health. Luke was a man for whom life was really, really tough. At the same time, he knew more scripture and theology than most of us put together, and he knew Jesus.

Luke used to come in and talk to me once a month or so. The last extended conversation I had with him - and he loved to talk – was about the cross. He could never understand why Protestants displayed an empty cross, instead of the crucifix with the body of Jesus on it. We debated several times. So it seems appropriate that tonight, the day after he died here, that we come to the passage of scripture with Jesus on the cross.

For tonight, at least…Luke won the argument!

Reading: Matthew 27:32-44

Whatever appreciation for art, especially visual art, that I have I owe unabashedly to my artist wife Anne. When we were first married, we developed this litany where we might stop in a museum and go to the modern art section. I would look at something that looked like someone had poured a bucket of paint onto a canvas and say “That isn’t art. I could do that.” And Anne would say “But you didn’t do it.” And I’d say “How is that art?” She would say, “Just because you don’t understand doesn’t mean it isn’t art.” And Anne could only roll her eyes at the hopelessness of it all.

Well, over 27 years of marriage I have seen lots of art, and developed appreciation for many new forms and styles. I confess, though, I still had trouble when we were in London and went to the Tate Modern Museum and saw the painted toilet called Fountain by Duchamp which is considered something of a modern art masterpiece. I still couldn’t quite get that one.

Do you know what the #1 most portrayed subject of art work has been down through the centuries? The crucifixion of Jesus. Jesus on the cross has been portrayed more than anyone- from early Christian art to medieval times, from Leonardo to Michaelangelo to Rembrandt and Rubens, into the modern art of Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso…the crucifixion is everywhere in visual art.

And how about in movies? The ones made about Jesus? The crucifixion gets incredibly detailed attention. Mel Gibson’s movie, which was horrifically graphic (and probably fairly accurate) had scenes of Jesus’ being crucified that you wouldn’t want to see again. I have to think The Passion of the Christ is the movie least often rented/seen for a second time. Who wants to watch that again?

Yet, despite all this attention in art, when the gospel writers talk about the crucifixion they are amazingly brief. Matthew says “And when they had crucified (him)…” That is a single Greek word. One word, that’s the sum total.

Why is it that the writers of the gospels seem far more concerned with:

• the soliders gambling over Jesus’ clothes,
• or with the sign that went above his head,
• or with the insults that Jesus received on the cross…

than with the crucifixion itself?

Why? was it because people would have already known the details? Perhaps. If you were an educated Roman citizen you would have no doubt avoided crucifixion as barbarian brutality. Crucifixion was for murderers, slaves, armed robbers, people considered “non-persons.” Crucifixion was brutal- that was a widely shared viewpoint:

• Cicero 1 st c BC- called it “a most cruel and disgusting penalty, the extreme ultimate penalty for a slave.” In fact, “the very name “cross” should not only be far from the body of a Roman citizen, but also from his thoughts, his eyes, and his ears.”
• Seneca 1 st c AD Roman philospher- called the cross “the accursed tree.”
• Josephus- 1 st c AD Jewish historian, said crucifixion was “the most pitiable of deaths.”
• The New Testament writers- universally agree that crucifixion was a most shame-filled way to die.

So everyone agreed that the cross was a terrible way to die, but why is it that scripture is so sparse on the details? Yes, perhaps because they were already known to first century readers. Yes, perhaps because it was distasteful. And we could certainly talk for a long time about the exact kind of crosses probably used, or the actual cause of death of a crucified person- loss of blood, asphyxiation from the body being unable to summon the strength to hold itself up and allow breathing to continue, etc.

But I also have to wonder if the gospel writers knew that too much of the “how” of the crucifixion would have gotten in the way of the “why.”Why Jesus was put on the cross? I’d like us to keep that question in front of us during the rest of our time.

One thing to consider is that Jesus’ crucifixion story was very clearly a fulfillment of the Old Testament, and thereby had continuity with what God had done and was doing through history. So:

• when the soldiers rolled dice, drawing lots to see who would get his clothes, anyone who knew the Old Testament would have thought about Psalm 22, “they stare and gloat over me; they divide my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.”
• when bitter drink was offered to Jesus, we could recognize Psalm 69, “They gave me poison…and for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.”
• they went to Golgotha, (Hebrew) (and Gk cranion), both meaning head, skull. And in fact, the word eventually moved to the Latin “calvarium” from which we get our English word “Calvalry.” SKULL PLACE. We are supposed to notice that they are taking Jesus to an execution ground, shaped like a skull that lay outside the walls of Jerusalem.

That’s important. In Leviticus, animals sacrificed for sin offerings were disposed of outside the walls of the city. And people who were infected with diseases had to reside outside the walls of the city in isolation from community. And as our reading from Hebrews earlier was careful to note, Jesus was executed outside the walls of the city-also an offering of sacrifice, also isolated from community.

Clearly, we are being told that Jesus’ death fulfilled, down to some fine detail, the story, and longings of the Old Testament and God’s Messiah.

Why was Jesus put on the cross? Most importantly of all, we need to notice that Jesus was on a mission. He accepted it from his Father in the Garden, and even long before that when he set his face of Jerusalem. He repeatedly told his disciples what would happen to him, and sometimes even used a little three-letter word in the Greek that means “it is necessary.” It usually carries the connotation of God’s involvement. “It is necessary that I go to Jerusalem,” that is, it is part of God’s plan. Or “I must go to Jerusalem and be handed over and killed and raised on the third day.”

John the Baptist named the mission when Jesus came to be baptized: “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”

Jesus talked about it himself in saying (Matt 20:28) “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” The mission was clear. Jesus would give Himself to save others.

You probably haven’t heard of Raymond Kolbe. He was born in 1894 in a small village in Poland. He was ordained in his 20’s as a Franciscan priest, and took the name of Father Maximilian. In the 1930’s he traveled to Japan to do some religious publishing, and was called back to Poland in 1939. When World War II started, he was arrested by

the Gestapo and imprisoned. In May of 1941 he was transferred to Auschwitz. One night in July, Father Kolbe’s cell block was found to be short one man, which meant someone had tried to escape.

The rules of the camp were that if a prisoner escaped, ten would die in his place. The next morning, the commandant went through their ranks and randomly chose the ten who would die. One of those chosen, a Polish sergeant, shouted out “What will happen to my family?!” Father Kolbe stepped out of line, took off his hat and stood before the commander.

Observers expected the commandant to go crazy, but he was so shocked he asked through a translator what Kolbe wanted. Father Kolbe replied “I am a Catholic priest from Poland; I would like to take that man’s place, because he has a wife and children.”

To the amazement of all, the commandant agreed. The sergeant was returned to his place in line, and the priest took his place in the starvation bunker. He died on August 14. Father Kolbe. He died willingly, to save someone else.

It’s a good picture. Jesus was not caught off guard by what happened to him. He gave himself to it. Took off his hat, stepped forward, said yes. It’s not that Jesus could not come down from the cross…rather, that he would not. He had a mission.

And Jesus’ mission was carried out for all people. As we witness him on the cross, hear the insults from a wide variety of people.

• Passersby. Golgotha was public place, and the Romans hoped that people would see and be discouraged from committing crimes. “You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself. IF you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.”
• Religious leaders- “let him come down from the cross now and we will believe in him.”

This has a familiar ring to it, doesn’t it? When Jesus was tempted by Satan in the wilderness, Satan tried to plant doubts as to who Jesus was: “IF you are the Son of God- turn stones into bread, throw yourself off temple.”

So Jesus’ ministry is bookended at the very beginning, and here at its fulfillment by this tempting challenge of who he was, and what he was doing. Jesus said no to Satan, he says no here. He was on a mission. To save his people. And in order to do it, he enfleshed this amazing substitution.

The theologian Karl Barth said it like this: “There is an exchange of status between Him and us; His righteousness and holiness are ours, our sin is His; He is lost for us, and we for his sake are saved.”

Now think of the incredible irony at work here, friends. While Roman soldiers throw dice to see who gets this crucified man’s clothes, the salvation of the whole world is unfolding right above their heads. Yet they remain oblivious.

The soldiers sit down to keep watch over Jesus…as though he is going anywhere. As though the friends who had already abandoned him might reappear and rescue him.

When the plaque was nailed over his head, “King of the Jews” it was right- except that it didn’t’ go nearly far enough- yet it was done as an insult.

While Jesus was filled with compassion even towards, especially towards his enemies- yet he was mocked and ridiculed by hard-hearted people from all walks of life.

While every messenger of Satan dared, and practically begged Jesus to show himself and get down off the cross…Jesus refused to sabotage the work he had come to do.

This is where it gets so intensely personal, for me. At what point do we quit being oblivious? Hard-hearted? Sharp-tongued people who merely keep watch? At what point do we dare to understand that Jesus died not in a tragedy but for a reason? Not as a failure but to fulfill what he had set out to do? At what point do we admit that Jesus died for a purpose- for people- for you- for me?

Tonight I want to close by reading a poem I wrote during Holy Week several years ago. It’s on the back of the bulletin if you want to follow, or perhaps just listen.

Whispers

“Stay on the cross.”

The words drip like acid,
steam and sizzle as they
strike wood.
No lips should ever speak so:
vile, cruel, selfish.
These words are final.
Somewhere in the deep dark,
the coffin lid creaks and groans,
closes until the deed is nailed and done.

“Stay on the cross.”

Four words, they pound my head,
pulse through every fiber.
I am desperate,
I who cannot speak
who must speak
who cannot speak these words.

“Stay on the cross.”

If you heed the taunts and climb down,
then I must climb up
to that familiar place
I have ever known and dreaded.
If you stay on the cross,
then I stay off.
I am desperate.

I cannot ask.

The words are final,
vile, cruel, selfish.
No lips should yield their sound,

I will not ask.

The coffin creaks,
and above me a moan escapes your lips.

- Dan Baumgartner (Holy Week 2003)