The Most Beautiful Story Ever Told

Another Easter

Another Easter. Like the year before. And the year before that. You don’t want to think about it—much less admit it—but Easter has lost its attraction. The story of the Cross is an old hat. The narrative has shifted—at least in your mind. And you feel guilty—as a woman and a man of who believe in Jesus Christ, you feel a little bit guilty. So you keep believing. You listen to the story one more time. “Perhaps this time it will sound better.”

But there’s this taxi driver who’s answer to everything is “Seen it!” “Done that!”

Another Easter. Another Passion week. Like the year before. And the year before that. I’ve seen it all. It’s an old hat. Breathing new life out of it is like beating a dead horse.

“Easter? It’s an old hat. Nothing new and exciting there. Breathing something new and exciting out of it? Might as well be beating a dead horse.”

You were captivated by it once before. Or maybe not. Maybe it was one of those things that you know comes once a year. Not really meaningful. You have your questions.

Another Easter. Another Passion week. Like the year before. I’ve seen it all. It’s an old hat. Breathing new life out of it is like beating a dead horse.

You hear the old narrative of the Cross year after year. Perhaps boredom is setting in. And as a faithful believer, you don’t want to even entertain the thought.

Like the taxi driver in Curious George the movie. “Seen it.” “Done that.” to everything potentially exciting that he sees.

Have the years of celebrating Easter inoculated you from seeing new and exciting things? In the back of your mind, do you find yourself saying, “Easter? It’s an old hat. Breathing something new and exciting out of it is like beating a dead horse”?

You rehash the old narrative of the Cross. Year after year. It’s become an old hat. Fascination has given way to boredom. Rapture to indifference.

Certainly, to a person who’s seen and done it all, nothing new and exciting will ever come up.

“Easter? It’s an old hat. Breathing something new and exciting out of it is like beating a dead horse.”

Symphony for the City of the Dead

Symphony for the City of the Dead

Symphony for the City of the Dead

Mark Baker and Joel Green in their book titled, Recovering the Scandal of the Cross are right, I think, when they say: “The significance of an event can shift with the narrative in which it is found” (loc. 86).

(Mark D. Baker and Joel B. Green, Recovering the Scandal of the Cross 2nd ed, loc. 86).

I found this out to be true about two months ago, when I came across a series of symphonies by a Russian composer I wasn’t familiar with, Dmitri Shostakovich, while browsing iTunes. One in particular caught my attention because of its name: Symphony No. 7 in C Major—Leningrad.

About two months ago, I came across a series of symphonies by one named Dmitri Shostakovich, while browsing iTunes. One caught my attention because of the name attached to it: Symphony No. 7—Leningrad. An ancient city located on the northwest of Russia. Used to be called St. Petersburg. Then Petrograd. Then changed by the Bolsheviks in honor of Lenin, after his death in 1924. opera. Immensely boring! I overheard Micah’s violin and orchestra teacher say one day, “My father used to say, ‘Opera music is beautiful, until the lady comes in and sings.’”

I couldn’t understand the music. I tried to listen to it several times and gave up. The symphony might as well be an Italian opera. I overheard Micah’s violin and orchestra teacher say one day, “Opera is beautiful music—until the fat lady sings.’”

Curious as I am, I played it several times, and gave up. It’s like listening to an Italian opera. Immensely boring! I overheard Micah’s violin and orchestra teacher say one day, “My father used to say, ‘Opera music is beautiful, until the lady comes in and sings.’”

In short, I found the symphony to be immensely boring.

First, it is a whopping hour-and-a-half long—longer than our worship service! In four massive movements, each movement longer than a concerto! Second, the music is a lot more abstract that the lyrical music I usually prefer. Third, I am unfamiliar with how a symphony is supposed to behave. Symphony as an art form, much less this symphony’s narrative—the story it is trying to tell—are all foreign to me.

But the name Leningrad whet my curiosity. So I searched for the story behind Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7. Googled it. And what I found changed my point of view to the extent that two days ago, on my way to and from Roseville, I slid and cruised behind trucks on the freeway, as I listened to the symphony from start to finish, captivated and beguiled by its story, and the depth of expression in which it tells its story.

I overheard Micah’s violin and orchestra teacher say one day, “My father used to say, ‘Opera music is beautiful, until the lady comes in and sings.’”

What changed? I changed. The symphony’s significance shifted in my mind when I learned the story behind it.

I hadn’t heard of Shostakovich. But I had read several Russian writers like Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Solzhenitsyn, and liked it a lot. So I Googled Shostakovich.

So I kept circling the tree to find something interesting. Googled it. Wikipedia says that this symphony is seventh of eleven composed by Shostakovich. And he composed it in Leningrad—St. Petersburg—during the Nazi siege of 1942-1944.

Shostakovich began composing his Symphony No. 7 in the winter of 1941, inside the city of Leningrad, his home city and the city of his birth, as the Nazis surrounded it. The siege would last 900 days—from September 8, 1941 to January 27, 1944. Leningrad would become the city of the dead, as over ten million of its citizens would perish in the siege.

From the city of the dead, came an hour-and-a-half long symphony! How can it be? And it had a thrilling effect among the starving people of the city.

“Did you hear? Shostakovich is writing a symphony for us?” Excitement grew as word got out that the city’s only surviving orchestra—reduced to 15 starving musicians, 3 of whom would die during rehearsal; an orchestra that had to be shored up by soldiers from the front lines doubling up as musicians for three hours every day—word got out that they were rehearsing for a premiere performance.

What a story!

M.T. Anderson, in his book titled, Symphony for the City of the Dead, describes what happens at that premiere: QUOTE HERE BEGINNING IN LOC. 4331.

He would dedicate this symphony to the citizens of his city—thus the name Leningrad. When word started to get out that the famous Shostakovich was writing

What a story!

Where is the saving significance of the Cross located?

It makes sense that the Romans only made a passing remark in their history books to the Cross of Jesus Christ. To them, death by crucifixion was not only common occurence—one among thousands; it was also the most humiliating way to die. The most shameful instrument of death in the Roman system, reserved for the scums of the earth. No nobility there whatsoever. The Roman historian Seneca says:

“Can anyone be found who would prefer wasting away in pain dying limb by limb, or letting out his life drop by drop, rather than expiring once for all? Can any man be found willing to be fastened to the accursed tree, long sickly, already deformed, swelling with ugly weals on shoulders and chest, and drawing breath of life amid long drawn-out agony? He would have many excuses for dying even before mounting the cross.”

The Roman historian Seneca dd

The Cross continues to befuddle. Not so much about whether it actually happened, but about what it really means. And what it means can depend on the story you attach to the event.

How do you see the Cross?

Would that Jesus have died in a blaze of glory—leading a victorious army in battle, and getting killed in the process. This would have been a more compelling story line. Like Admiral Lord Nelson in Cape Trafalgar when he led the Royal Navy to victory, only to die from an enemy’s musket. Now that’s the death the world can identify with. Outnumbered against the combined French and Spanish Armada of 33 ships against his 27. He wins the battle and dies a hero.

The Cross continues to befuddle. Not so much about whether it actually happened. But about it really means. And what it truly means

Had Jesus died an honorable death, the Romans, the Greeks, and the Jews may have been more inclined to take notice. But he died on the Cross. Where is salvation in this death? Where is it located in the story?

To the Romans of Jesus’ day, the story of the cross would have been interpreted along the

And so theories have been formulated to explain the story behind the Cross

“

Lucian of Samosata sneers at Christians for “worshiping the crucified sophist.”

So where do we locate the saving significance of the Cross?

Like the one Anselm, the 12th Century Bishop of Canterbury, propounded. The Satisfaction Theory. Which theorizes that Jesus’ death had to happen in order to satisfy the wrong done against the person of God. It is in response to another, prior theory. The Ransom Theory. Which theorizes that Jesus’ death served as a ransom to Satan “in order that sinful humanity might be released from Satan’s grip”.

These are extrapolations from the basic biblical evidence. And in some sense created more problems than they solved. For example: What kind of a Father God is, that he would let His Son die simply to satisfy the wrong done against his honor? Or, What kind of God is He who would let His one and only Son die to appease His own anger?

The basic story of the Cross does not contain these theories. These theories are human attempts to make sense of Jesus’ death which, according to the New Testament, saves us from our sins.

How exactly it the Cross saves us, Jesus himself does not explain. Only that it DOES.

How exactly the Cross saves us, Jesus himself does not explain. Only that it DOES.

So where do we locate this saving significance?

There are five metaphors in the New Testament, outside of Jesus’ own words, that seek to explain the saving significance of Jesus’ death. To which we will turn the next few Sabbaths. But prior to all these metaphors, his saving death—and his eventual resurrection on the third day—can be explained in the simple but powerful picture of a lamb

But what story does an a cute animal tell?

It is the image of the Passover—the Easter—Lamb. But what story does it tell?

It is not the story of a god whose honor is so important to him so as to cost his only son’s death.

It is not the story of a god whose wrath has to be appeased with the death of his only son.

It is not the story of a god who hands his son over to Satan as ransom for you and me.

Well, what is it then?

It tells the story of God’s best wishes and best expectations for every member of His family.

When you look at this lamb, you are looking at a human being as I intended them to be. This is my vision for you. And whenever you fall short, come to me with an unblemished lamb, and I will count its pure and blameless life as though it were yours. I will look at this pure and blameless animal, and I will see you.

So from the dawn of human history, God had asked this of everyone who would walk with Him. “What I ask is that you see things the way they really are. Come to me with a lamb and, provided you do so with a contrite spirit, it will be enough.”

It is the story of a loving father who will not settle for anything less for his children.

And when Jesus came...

And when Jesus came, He demonstrated to you and me what it’s like to live for God! The Cross is the inevitable result of a life totally and completely lived for God. “This is what obedience means!” Jesus says to you and me.

“Now I want you to do what God has always asked of His people: When you go to God for whatever reason, take me with you, and it will be enough!”

What a story!

Back to the City of the Dead

Back to the City of the Dead. To Leningrad. Years after the premiere of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7 in C Major, an English journalists sought out one of the surviving musicians who played in the Radio Orchestra that day, August 9, 1942.

M.T. Anderson writes: SEE LOC. 4390.

Victor Koslov was still captivated by the story of Symphony No. 7.

And to think that the story of the Cross is infinitely more compelling. And far more beautiful. It’s the most beautiful story ever told. For it is God’s story. It is your story. It is our story!

So what are you waiting for?

Anybody here want to come to God?

The lamb is here!

Anybody here wants to come near God?