I’ve been thinking about Abraham Lincoln; the stories that are repeated about his life. They say he grew up in one room log cabin to farming parents; had little education, but read a great deal. The story goes that he returned home from buying something at a store several miles away, realized he had received too much money back from the sales clerk, so he again walked to the store and returned the 2 cents extra he had been given. Honest Abe he’s called. They say he could split well log railing and fire wood. At night, when the chores were done, he read by candle or fire light. One dad I know used the story of Abraham Lincoln’s life to motivate his son, who seemed to spend too much time playing video games. He came into the room where his son was playing Nintendo. “You know, son,” said Dad, “when Abraham Lincoln was your age, he would use his time reading books by candle light.” Without missing a sequence on his Nintendo, the son said, “Yah well, when Abraham Lincoln was your age, he was President of the United States.”
Stories grow up around famous people. They get added to. It’s true of Abraham Lincoln. How about Jesus Christ, particularly during his crucifixion? We’ve seen movies and DVD’s about the crucifixion, which, of course, are 100% accurate. We’ve seen art work, paintings… some of us may know the 12 stations of the cross, but what really happened? Just as important, what does Jesus’ crucifixion mean? Let’s take a look together at the description of Jesus’ death in Mark’s gospel to discover again the reality and the meaning of the cross for us. Before we begin, though – since we’re talking about the meaning of the cross, which we can hardly begin to understand, let’s pray for God’s wisdom.
What happened to Jesus on the day he died? He had been arrested the night before in the Garden of Gethsemane, found guilty by the Jewish high council, condemned to death by the Roman governor, Pilate, for wanting to be the political king of the Jewish people, a false charge. Now, he is handed over to the Roman guards to carry out the sentence of death. The guards take him – and laugh at him. They know the reason for his execution; king of the Jews. They laugh out loud at the idea that this peasant carpenter, heavily flogged, who can barely stand before them, could ever be a king. Why not have a bit of fun at the start of a dull day? Since the charge against him is kingship, let’s make him a king, they say. One of the guards rummages around and finds a bit of purple cloth. They throw it over Jesus’ shoulders, imitating the royal purple robe of the Roman Emperors. Someone else breaks off the branches of a near-by thorn shrub to add to the costume. Fashioning it into a circle, they place it on his head, not press it into his skull, but lay it on his head, imitating the royal laurel wreath positioned on heads of kings. Making the mockery complete, they bow down before him. Instead of “Hail, Caesar,” “Hail, King of the Jews.” It’s all fun to them, a game; mocking, laughing, hitting, spitting on this weakened figure of a man. When they tire of playing with Jesus, they shove him through their midst and lead him out to be crucified.
(Read Mark 15:16 – 20)
The first century historian Plutarch, tells us the condemned carry their own cross to execution, heavily whipped on the way. However, Jesus has already been scourged in front of Pilate. Any more whipping would kill him. He is too weak to carry the cross, so the soldiers pick someone from the crowd coming into the city to carry the cross. It’s not both pieces of the cross, but the vertical cross beam. They pick Simon of Cyrene. Mark includes the names of his two sons, who probably are known by the Christians who first read mark’s Gospel in Rome. Archeologists found a first century burial cave used by a family of Cyrenian Jews in 1941. In it is inscribed the words, “Alexander, son of Simon,” just as Mark records, but there’s no way of knowing for sure if it is the same person.
(Read Mark 15:21 – 25)
Out to Golgotha they go. According to custom, the place would be close enough to the city for people to see the victim on the cross – and fear the power of what Rome can do. Golgotha means “skull” in the language of the Jews. In the Roman language, “calva” is the word, from which we have the word, “Calvary.” The word probably describes the physical features of the place, a bare outcrop of rock, like the bare top of a skull. There, Jesus is stripped of his clothes. He is offered a drink mixture to deaden at least a little the coming pain. He refuses. He will face it fully. His hands are nailed to the wood. He is hoisted up by ropes, the horizontal cross beam attached to one of the permanent wooden vertical beams embedded in the ground. Jesus’ feet are nailed to the wood. Half way up the stake, a small block of wood is attached, so that a portion of Jesus’ body weight can rest on the block, but not enough to give him relief, only enough to drag out his death. The soldiers gamble to win his clothes and then the mocking begins again.
Those who watch or pass by point at his naked body and laugh at him. “Save yourself,” they jeer. We hear you claimed you could rebuild the temple in 3 days. Let’s see it. Start by saving yourself.” The priests heap on there derision. “If you are the Messiah, surely you can come down from the cross. Just come on down and we’ll believe you.” Ha, ha. The Romans, too, have joined in on the fun. Roman writers of the time, Pliny the Younger and Seutonius tell us that a statement of the crime was fastened to the cross above the head of the crucified. The charge written above Jesus, “The King of the Jews.” That was a laugh, looking at him. A little joke.
(Read Mark 15:26 – 32)
Then, the sky darkened, reminiscent of the plague of darkness in Egypt, bringing God’s curse. (Read Mark 15:33 – 39) “My God, my God,” Jesus cried out. The words of a suffering believer from the Psalms form on Jesus’ lips as he hangs there. Scripture is such a part of Jesus’ life that in his hours of agony, words of the Bible first come to mind. “Why have you forsaken me?” Some mis-hear Jesus. There is a close sound between, “Elo-i,” my God, and “Eloiah, “Elijah. Someone runs to fill a sponge with vinegar and water to keep Jesus alive longer to see if Elijah might come. “With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last. The curtain of the temple was torn, and when the Roman officer saw how he died; not in the usual way with “screams of rage and pain, wild curses and shouts of indescribable despair” (William Lane, Mark) followed by exhausted whimpers for hours but silently suffering and suddenly dying, he said, “Surely, this man must be the Son of God.”
What do we learn from Jesus’ death on the cross?
Surely, the mocking of Jesus, laughing at him, pinned to a piece of wood, reminds us that God so often uses weakness, not strength; so often. God’s purpose and will is advanced by methods and people that are not strong in their own capabilities, or at least recognize, no matter their talent, how woefully short they are prepared for what God has in mind. Jesus’ parables emphasize the smallness, the littleness, the weakness, of the ways and people of God. It is like a mustard seed, the smallest of seeds. It is like a little shrub. It is like leaven powder. But the seed grows into a tree and leaven bakes into the whole loaf. The next time we feel discouraged, no good, that we have failed, or that there are no results to al our efforts, let the image of Jesus, hanging naked on a cross burn into our minds. From such weakness, God brings triumph, which leads to another learning.
God triumphed through Jesus because he was obedient. What God asks of us is not success, but obedience. We obey. We let God choose how to use our obedience. Obedience does not mean we argue with God whether what God wants is best or what we want to do. We follow. God leads. And, it does no good excusing ourselves that we don’t know what God wants. We know plenty about what God wants, even if we don’t know the specific answer to the problem we happen to be facing right now. As Jesus was obedient, so he shows us how to live.
Another learning. If we had never known ahead of time about Jesus’ crucifixion, we would have no idea how he died. Look at the text again with me. The word “crucified” is used several times. Twice, it speaks about the future; Jesus is going to go to the cross. Several times, it tells us that Jesus was crucified, or that he hung on a cross. Nowhere does it tell us what that meant. There is no description. There are no details given about the actual crucifixion. I have had to supply from historical accounts outside of the Bible how a crucifixion took place. Think about what we remember of Jesus’ crucifixion, the stories that have grown up around him; the beatings, the continual harsh treatment. He was heavily whipped on Pilate’s orders during his trial. It was called scourging, whipping with multiple chords with stones tied to the ends. But, Pilate was actually trying to get him off from being killed. After the soldiers abuse him, there is no other mention of his being hit. We may have a memory of Jesus carrying the full cross along the Via Dolorosa, falling several times. There is no mention of that. In our minds we see the crucifixion as the ultimate physical torture that a human body can suffer. We see the blood, hear the agony. And, all this is true. The very word, “excruciating” comes from the same root for crucify. However, Mark does not focus on the physical punishment of Jesus. He only says he was crucified, nothing more about it. The importance of Jesus’ death is not in his physical suffering. Then, what is it in? It’s in what Jesus said on the cross; “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? It was not the physical pain that caused Jesus to cry out. It was the anguish of separation between himself and his Heavenly Father. On the cross, Jesus is abandoned by God.
Abandonment, isolation, aloneness is the penalty of sin, a complete separation from God. The pain of separation is so great that physical pain pales in comparison; so great that Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”
The story is old. There was once a bridge that spanned a large river. During most of the day the bridge sat parallel to the river, allowing taller ships to pass through freely on both sides of the bridge. But, at certain times each day, a train would come along and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river, allowing the train to cross it. A switchman sat in a shack on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the train crossed.
One evening, the switchman heard the sound of the last train of the day, sounding its horn a few minutes away. He stepped to the control to turn the bridge. The bridge moved into position, but, to his horror, found that the locking mechanism did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position it would cause the train to jump the track and crash into the river. This was a passenger train. Hundreds would die. The switchman quickly crossed the bridge to the other side of the river, where there was a lever switch he could hold to operate the lock manually. He could hear the rumble of the train now. He reached the lever and leaned backward to apply his weight to it, locking the bridge. He kept the pressure on to keep the mechanism locked. Then, coming across the bridge, he heard a sound that froze his blood. “Daddy, where are you?” His four-year old son was crossing the bridge looking for him. He wanted to cry out, “Run,” but now the train was rounding the bend and he knew his son’s little legs would never make it across the bridge in time. If the man left he switch, he could perhaps snatch up his son and carry him to safety. But, he could never get back to the lever in time to lock the bridge, saving the people on the train. It was either his son or the train he must save.
He took but a moment to make his decision. The train sped swiftly, passing him as he held the switch in place, the passengers unaware of the sacrifice of the father. This old allegory describes a father’s horrible choice. Jesus’ crucifixion invites us instead to focus upon the son, who sees his father, knows his father could save him, has heard a thousand times his father loves him, but refuses to rescue him. The father abandons his son at the point of death. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” All for our sakes.
Our reaction to what Jesus did for us can result in guilt. We feel guilty at Jesus’ death for our sakes. We should do more to live up to his sacrifice, live better, try harder – and when we fail, to feel more guilty. But Jesus’ death for us is a freeing thing; it invites us, not to guilt, but to gratitude! Amazing what Jesus, in obedience, did for us. Thank you. We live out of gratitude.
“Jesus, what a friend for sinners; Jesus, lover of my soul,
Friends may fail me, goes assail me, He, my Savior, makes me whole.
Hallelujah! What a Savior! Hallelujah, what a Friend.
Saving, helping, keeping, loving, He is with me to the end.
Shall we sing it?