Good Friday - The Revolution of the Cross

The other day, Pastor Rick Warren—who some of you might know—tweeted that Jesus is not found on the right or the left where the thieves are, but in the middle. And he got into trouble for that. It caused a bit of a stir. When you just put out a tweet, I suppose you risk being misunderstood. But I think there’s a valid point there.

People saw that and said, “Oh, what he’s really saying is that Jesus is just kind of lukewarm. Jesus is just in the middle. Jesus is just average.” I don’t think that’s what he meant—but that’s how some people took it. And when you put something out on Twitter without context, people can take it however they want, no matter what you intended. That’s the dangerous thing about using that medium.

But there’s a real sense in which Jesus Christ is in the middle—crucified between two revolutionaries. The Gospel text says there were two thieves, but the word used at that time referred to revolutionaries: people like Barabbas, whom we’ve spoken about before, who tried to bring about the kingdom of God through violence.

I find it striking to think about that image and apply it to our own lives: Jesus Christ crucified between two revolutionaries—one on the right, one on the left. In our political language, we often talk about right and left as opposing sides, and yet the fact is that neither type of revolution is good. It’s just as problematic to be a revolutionary on the right as it is on the left.

If we think about those great systems historically associated with right and left—fascism and communism—neither had any use for Christianity, for the Church, or for Jesus Christ. Both persecuted Christians. And these types of revolutions always end the same way as those revolutionaries beside Christ—they end in failure. They end up crucified.

And yet, there’s Jesus Christ with them. What is He doing there, among revolutionaries on the right and left? How could anyone be more different from them and their ideologies? But I think it’s fitting that Jesus Christ is crucified with revolutionaries, because Jesus Himself came to bring about a revolution.

Of those three figures on the cross that day, Jesus Christ is the revolutionary who succeeds. But His revolution is different. It’s not the kind of revolution fought with swords or political power. It’s a revolution that happens within.

Our temptation is always to fight against those around us—to reject others, to try to change the world externally—while forgetting about ourselves. But the invitation of Jesus Christ is to fight a revolution inside. To change myself. To struggle against my own weaknesses—the one place where I actually can succeed.

And we have this beautiful example of the good thief at Christ’s side—the revolutionary whom tradition calls Dismas. Unlike the other thief, who despairs and curses Christ, Dismas realizes that his revolution has failed. He sees that all his political hopes are over, and yet he sees something different in Jesus. He sees a new way. And at that final moment, he says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

What faith that is—to see, in a crucified man, in someone the world would call a failure, the very source of hope. And in that incredible moment of suffering, to call out to Him.

This is the invitation for all of us. In our difficulties, in our struggles, in our own crucifixions—it is never too late to call out to Christ. It’s never too late to leave behind all of our revolutions and worldly causes, all those things that are destined to fail, and instead reach out to Christ. To say to Him, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And if we are able to do that—if we make that simple plea—we will hear, along with Dismas, those beautiful words from Jesus:

“I tell you truly, this day you will be with me in paradise.”