Occasional Sermons

Generation to generation, the various players in the human drama appear and reappear. They were certainly all there in the shadow of the cross. First, there were Jesus’ disciples – the eleven who were still alive anyway. They, for the most part, were in the far distant shadow of the cross, because when Jesus was arrested, they took their gambit for a bust and scattered to save their own skins. Peter was the only exception. He fashioned himself the first among them and took pride in the fact, so he followed the proceedings from a distance. When someone recognized and questioned him, however, he outright denied Jesus three times, cursing and swearing for good measure. These are the decent people -- the people with good intentions, the people who make an effort. They know the truth, but they can’t quite go the full distance with it. When there is something at stake for them – something difficult, something costly, something unwanted, something risky -- they retreated back to their safety zones -- be it for a lack of faith or a lack of will power or a lack of courage – probably a measure of all three -- they just can’t overcome their self-interest. We should be able to recognize these people pretty well, since we bear them so close a resemblance -- hopefully, the other players less so, for they are rather less sympathetic. There were the religious authorities; the ones who demanded Jesus’ execution. They had their pretexts of course -- their rationales and justifications. Jesus had laid claim to divine authority. This was blasphemy, and blasphemy, it was well established, was a capitol offense. Moreover, Jesus was putting them all at risk of Roman reprisal by the sensation he was creating. It could easily be mistaken for an uprising. But none of these were the real reason they demanded his execution. The real reason was their invidious indignation that Jesus had attempted to usurp their authority; worse, that he postured as though his authority preempted their own. He was no religious authority; just the opposite. He was one against whom the religious authorities took aim. For his audacity and effrontery, he would pay with his life. These differ only in degree from many religious leaders today who think that simply because they are religious leaders, they have a monopoly on God’s truth. They have accordingly assumed the judgment seat, and while they aren’t in the execution business, they are in the exclusion business. If one of those they excluded attempted to turn the tables on them with even a drop of Jesus’ prophetic fury, I assure you there’d be no turning of the other cheek. Quite the contrary. There’d be hell to pay. Then there were the political functionaries, in particular Pontius Pilate. Somehow, he thought he could wash his hands of his complicity in Jesus’ execution after his form thrust interrogation of the religious authorities, which he did more to satisfy his curiosity than to right a wrong. To be sure, he sensed injustice; but he allowed the wheels of injustice to turn. These are the bureaucrats, those who elevate the process over the outcome. Something may come along from time to time to attract their notice, but never sufficient for them to overturn the process. The process rolls on and rolls over whatever or whomever is in its way. And so, they become automatons, and like all automatons, ethically dull. If they retain any ethical imperative at all it is one of self-preservation, which merely functions to perpetuate the process. Then there were the foot soldiers – the Roman Centurions. They nailed him to the cross then hoisted it into place. While he hung there above them, they divided among themselves the clothing they had stripped off of him. As they prepared to divide his tunic, they discovered it was seamless. Rather than compromise its value, they decided to mix business with pleasure and cast lots for it. These are the enforcers. It’s only natural that they must, to an extent, objectify the victims of their enforcement, but that objectification often goes unchecked, and they grow coarse and brutal, sometimes even sadistic. At the end of the day they can end up more criminal than their victims. And of course, we can’t forget the crowds. They lined the streets of Jerusalem and hailed Jesus with joyous enthusiasm as their coming king. But days later their enthusiasm took a different tone as they screamed for his execution. We may recognize these people fairly well too. They are the general public. They stand ever poised to react to whatever comes down the pike. They actually stare eagerly down the pike, because this is where the rubber hits the road for them – reacting to whatever comes down the pike. Ironically, though, their reactions are completely arbitrary. This is because their reactions are not really their own; they are the product of spin doctors or propagandists. But this gives them no cause for concern, no more than a straw is concerned for the wind. They were all there in the shadow of the cross, the various players of the human drama, acting out their roles with predictable consistency. Yet for all their variety, they had one thing in common. They were all beyond redemption. All of them. What excuse had any of them? While any man hung on a cross above them much less the Son of God? What possible excuse? Ignorance? Stupidity? Indifference? Hypocrisy? Disintegration? Yet for that matter, what excuse have we – his disciples, the religious leaders, the bureaucrats, the enforcers, the public, and all the rest -- the various players of the human drama who act out our roles with predictable consistency in the shadow of the cross in this generation? What excuses have we? We can only own that we too are beyond redemption. But the funny thing, or maybe it’s not so funny at all, is that Jesus himself didn’t think so. He didn’t think any of us is beyond redemption. Yes, he cast the shadow of the cross upon all of us, but it was the shadow of his redemption. And why? The answer is very simple. Because like his Father, he loves us. Because like his Father, he forgives us. Because like his Father, he wants us to give us a new life and a new beginning. Because like his Father, he wants to redeem us. And if that’s hard to believe, look how it played out for the first disciples. A few days after Jesus’ execution they were together again in the upper room. Each would have preferred to be alone in his shame and humiliation, but for their fear. What if Jesus’ executioners would next come after them? There was safety in numbers, so they huddled together in the upper room behind locked doors. They knew darned well they were beyond redemption. Then Jesus resurrected appeared to them with his old familiar greeting, “Peace be with you.” And he breathed upon them his Holy Spirit. They were then redeemed men who set out to redeem the world. They were new players in the human drama – and so may we be. This is the good news of Eastertide. Amen.