Lent Midweek 6

SERMON 6: LENTEN MIDWEEK 5 "That Day, and Today" Luke 23:26-43 Our theme for this Lenten season has been, "You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good." This evening I was reminded of this truth: evil is often louder than good. In news reporting, for instance, people say, "If it bleeds, it leads." That is, you take a story that is sensational or even bloody, and you make that the main story. It catches people's attention. It leads. Evil often is louder than good. Another example. Criticism, negative comments, tend to be more powerful, "louder" to us than compliments or positive comments. What sticks with us longer is the complaint or the criticism or the insult-we keep hearing those things long after the kindness or the affirmation has faded. This is why so many people carry around in their heads and hearts a whole truckload of negative commentary; we play that in our heads even when we're not consciously aware of it. Evil is often louder than good. It's true in the reading for this evening from Luke 23. It starts with "the rulers," members of the Sanhedrin: "they scoffed," our translations say. It might be better to say, "They began to scoff" or maybe even, "They kept on continually scoffing"-because when evil speaks, it is loud and long in its sin. Without realizing it, they say true things about Jesus, hanging on the cross. Jesus is God's Messiah, his Christ, Jesus is God's chosen one. But he's not there to save himself, but to die for all people. The rulers don't see this, they can't. All they can do is scoff and ridicule. How loud was it? Pretty loud. And then there are soldiers, the troops directly under Roman control; they're the executioners, they actually kill Jesus and the two criminals. And they know the charge that Pilate has settled on, the charge against this perfectly innocent man-the only perfectly innocent man ever. The charge? "King of the Jews." It's written on a piece of wood and posted over Jesus's head. But that's not enough. In their blindness, the soldiers mocked Jesus: "Don't kings look out for themselves? If you're the king of the Jews-look, you even have a sign above you!-if you're the king, save yourself." Laughter, mockery, insults. Loud, evil words. And there is more. One of the dying criminals actually finds it within himself to rail at Jesus, to blaspheme him, and once he starts, he keeps on doing it: "Aren't you the Christ? Well, aren't you? Do something!" I wonder how the rulers and the soldiers reacted when one of the men who was dying beside Jesus joined in the noise, the mockery. They had already taken his clothes. The Lord has no dignity left at all. And now this criminal's voice adds to the din. It's loud, and it's long, and it's evil. The way that evil often is. But then-there is one voice. He speaks to his fellow criminal, and then he speaks to Jesus. This solitary voice speaks not out of blindness, or ignorance, or hatred, or mockery. This believing voice speaks honesty and truth and hope. Honesty, truth, and hope. We're going to listen carefully to this voice, to the believing criminal. We need to understand what he said in faith, even with all the noise around him. And then, Jesus answers him! Jesus hasn't replied to any of the noise around him. But he speaks to this man. We'll listen carefully to Jesus's voice, too, as he promises a gift. This believer-for that is what we have to call him-this believer first speaks to his fellow criminal. We don't know what these two have done, whether they committed a crime together, or if they were just lined up to die. But his voice of faith is, in the first place, astonishingly honest, about himself and his "fellow." "Don't you fear God?" The unbelief all around him is ignorant, they don't even know that something more is going on here. Something mysterious ... God's justice is at work ... and something more. The criminal goes on. "Look-you and I are dying here because we deserve what we are getting. But this man has done nothing wrong!" In a way, these words don't quite prove that this man is a believer- but how does he know this about Jesus? He's right, of course-he's very right. And he's been hearing the evil voices around him, saying things that are actually true. "If you are the Christ, if you are the king"-and Jesus is the Christ. He is king of the Jews. He is king over everyone. But Jesus has done nothing wrong, and yet he is dying on a cross. Can he really be the king? The believing criminal's next words show the depth of his faith. And let's remember this. This isn't the first time in Luke that God works powerful faith in what seems to us to be an "unlikely believer." There was a centurion back in chapter 7, and his beloved servant was sick unto death. The synagogue elders in Capernaum pleaded with Jesus to help the man. They said, "He is worthy for you to help. He is worthy-help him." But before Jesus gets to the man's house, the soldier sent word and his faith shines. He says, "No, I am not worthy, not worthy for you to enter my home. But I know who you are, and I know what sort of authority you have and how it works. Don't come to my house; I'm not worthy for you to enter it. But just stop where you are and speak-and I know my servant will be healed." And Jesus marveled; the Son of God was amazed. He'd never seen faith like this in any of the sons of Abraham; only from this Gentile. Luke tells us about other believers like this: a sinful woman who knows Jesus and his mercy and so she loves him and anoints his feet and wipes them with her hair. There was a bleeding woman who believes that all she has to do is touch Jesus's clothes. There's a short, rich tax collector whom everyone hates for one reason or another, but when Jesus comes to his house-transformation! And Jesus says, "Today is an unexpected day. None of you saw it coming. But today, salvation came to the home of this unlikely believer, Zacchaeus. Today." Does this criminal really know who Jesus is? Does he believe that Jesus, dying on the cross, can still be the king? Yes, he does. Let's carefully consider his words to Jesus. He speaks the truth, and he speaks in hope. "Jesus! Remember me when you come into your kingdom." We have to be clear about what this man is saying. He knows the truth; he knows that Jesus is the king, the King, surrounded by evil, with evil destroying him. And he also knows the truth and that gives him hope. You see, if Jesus is that King, this will not be the end of Jesus! If he is God's true King, no evil can stop God's plan through his Chosen One. If Jesus is the King, then the day will come, the day must come when evil is undone, and injustice overthrown, and the world put right. The day must come when Jesus comes into all the glory of his kingdom. While he himself is dying, the believing criminal looks for that day. Remember me, Jesus, on that day. I deserve everything I am getting, but you can save me. That's the truth. Remember me, Jesus, when you come into your kingdom. That's the hope. We have the privilege of being able to read Luke's Gospel, and we know that Jesus himself nails down the meaning of these words. Just hours before, in the upper room, Jesus made a promise to the apostles who were about to betray him and run away. He promised to restore them after he was raised from the dead. You could say that he promised that he would remember them. Here's what he said: "that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and judge the twelve tribes of Israel." Jesus's promise will come true because after sin and evil have done their worst to Jesus, Jesus will rise in victory. And Jesus's promise to the apostles just hours before will come true on that day, the day of final victory, over every enemy, even over death itself. Somehow, the believing criminal has come to know this; God has revealed it, there at the end of his life. The believing criminal knows the truth about Jesus, and he has his hope set on the day of King Jesus's final victory, and all he says is this: "Jesus. Remember me on that day. I don't know when, I don't know how. But remember me on that day." And Jesus will. And that believer will have a place at the table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and with the apostles themselves. Honesty-he knew what he deserved. Truth-he believed who Jesus is. Hope-he looks forward to the day. But there is more, because Jesus answers him. And just like with Zacchaeus, Jesus has a gift for that dying believer "today"-before anyone expected it: "Today salvation has come to this house!" Just like at Christmas, in Bethlehem, before the shepherds expected it: "Today there has been born for you in the city of David a Savior." So, for the criminal who trusted that the true king would remember him on the great day, King Jesus has a gift already-today. "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." Paradise is the place of rest and safety, in the presence of the living God. When death comes to that believing criminal, his body and soul are torn apart for a time; that's what death does to us. This will happen to Jesus, too, in the great mystery of the death of the Son of God. But paradise, rest and safety and peace, will be the portion of that believer, even as he continues to wait for that day. Death will bring a time of waiting and a time of resting, in paradise. Jesus will remember him when he comes into his kingdom. But Jesus gives a gift, already now: "Today you will be with me in the presence of my Father, in paradise." Listen to the voice of faith, not unbelief, when evil is all around you-and even when your own evil wants to rise up and deafen you. There are lots of mockers and scoffers today, and their voices can seem so loud. There's plenty of evil in our world today, and it can feel like the noise will crush us. But we have seen the strange and unexpected salvation of our God. The evil came against Jesus, and it crushed him. And when the Sabbath began long ago, no one living was able to hold on to the promise. But victory came when death was undone, victory came when the king rose from the dead. We are still waiting-with the church on earth and the church at rest-still waiting for Jesus to come into his kingdom with all his glory. And so, let that quiet voice of faith long ago shape and guide you in how you think and speak-with honesty, and truth, and hope. Let your voice speak honesty. "We are getting what we deserve," the believing criminal said. And so, we say as well, that we would deserve nothing but wrath and death if we were left to our own goodness, our own strength. If God left us alone with ourselves, we would deserve the same. Let your voice speak truth. The truth about Jesus, the true King. On that afternoon long ago, he was the king when he gave up all his royal privilege and power; he emptied himself, as Paul says, and became obedient to God's plan to save the world. But he was still the King, and that's why the dark day did not last, that's why our Lord rested in the tomb only for a time, that's why there was a "today" that no one expected-the today of Easter! Of Easter, indeed. Let your voice speak honesty, and truth. And let there be hope. Unshakeable hope built on and based on the King. This king has a great memory. And no one who calls upon him will be put to shame. It's Lent again, and that means that the final Easter hasn't dawned, not yet. There is evil around us and within us, but hope that is built on the king does not listen to the clamor of evil. We hear that voice of faith long ago, and we speak as that believer did. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And your king will come, and he has a great memory. That's why we sang an Advent hymn this evening: "The king shall come when morning dawns, and light triumphant breaks, when beauty gilds the eastern hills, and life to joy awakes." He has claimed you, and he will remember you on that day. And if you die before Jesus comes again in his kingdom-and because we don't know when that will be, it's possible that you might not!-but if you die before that day, then Jesus's words long ago become words for you, too. Today, you will be with me in paradise, resting in peace and joy with Jesus, as with the whole church we wait for the day. These two hymn stanzas may be familiar to you; they are a perfect way to end our meditation this evening. Stanzas 6 and 7 of "For All the Saints"-with a slight paraphrase inserted: "The golden evening brightens in the west; soon, soon to faithful warriors ... and to believing criminals ... cometh rest; sweet is the calm of paradise the blest. Alleluia. But lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day! The saints-you, me, and a believing criminal-the saints triumphant rise in bright array. The King of Glory passes on his way. Alleluia. In the Name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.