[Machine transcription]
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. The plan that had been in place before the foundation of the world was quickly being brought to its completion. A speedy trial and a summary execution had made sure of that. This process that normally would have taken at least a period of days is now over at a matter of hours. But this is the way they wanted it, for to do otherwise would open the door to questions about the man’s innocence and lead to protests against his pending death sentence.
And in truth, it was exactly the way the man wanted it also, for he didn’t go to his death declaring his innocence, but rather carrying the sin of the entire world on his shoulders. Someone had to pay for this guilt. A sacrifice had to be made to satisfy the wrath of God. But he kept silent. Isaiah tells us, “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.”
Now we might wonder if lambs that are being made ready for the slaughter have any inkling in their minds about what’s going to happen to them. Christ knew. He knew what he had to do, and he didn’t hesitate; he was prepared to suffer in silence. And but for those seven words that he did speak from the cross, he did suffer in silence. You know, artists have tried for centuries to kind of capture, you know, they’ve had this task of trying to depict the suffering of Christ to attempt to capture the sorrow and the grief of the event. They paint this sunken and contorted and sorrowful countenance of Christ. We always see the blood streaming from his wounds, the utter hopelessness on the face of his followers.
Although there were witnesses to the crucifixion, we sometimes seem to think that we don’t have a complete picture. It almost seems too sterile in many ways. Sometimes we want more details about how it actually happened, but the Gospels simply say they crucified him. That sounds very matter of fact and simple. But given what we know about this brutal and shameful Roman method of execution, we can be sure that it wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t even in today’s characterization humane. And to be sure, Jesus did indeed die a physical death by suffering in his body.
But Jesus also suffered in spirit. Imagine that you have the power to save yourself from certain death, and you decide to set aside that power. Or that another actually has the power to save you and chooses not to. That’s what it means to be forsaken. That’s what it means that Jesus experiences the full wrath of the Father and the sheer terror of dying for the sin of the world. And so his body and his soul and spirit enter into darkness, just as the world is plunged into this physical darkness at the culmination of his passion. At the height of his agony, Luke tells us that the sun’s light failed during these three hours of darkness.
And this wasn’t just some mere eclipse that caused some localized absence of light, but rather it was a complete blotting out of the power and the brilliance of the sun. Much like the phenomenon of the star of Bethlehem, people have tried to figure out what this is, saying, “Well, it was just some cosmic event.” They searched their history books for proof that it had ever happened, as if God’s word isn’t sufficient enough to believe it. But here, creation itself testifies to the darkness of evil, to the judgment of iniquity that’s taking place on this cross, but also to the culmination of Satan’s attack on Christ, and to his utter failure to triumph over God’s plan for the salvation of the world.
Luke tells us that at the same time this darkness descended, the temple curtain was torn in two. This was no insignificant thing. This wasn’t some simple thin veil like you would wear on your face. It was purported to be 60 feet high and 30 feet wide and as thick as the breadth of a man’s hand. It was said that it took up to 300 priests to even move this thing. This was the curtain, the barrier that separated the holy place from the Holy of Holies. And this was no fluke. This was no weakness in the fabric of the curtain itself. For Matthew and Mark both tell us that it was torn from the top to the bottom, ripped apart by the hand of God, signaling that Christ was now entering the Holy of Holies. He was occupying the space of heaven itself for all time.
And so there will be no more need for sacrifices of the priest and for the high priest to enter on the Day of Atonement, for the greatest priest accomplished everything as he bled on the cross and atoned for the sin of the people once and for all. And now the seventh word is spoken: “Father, into your hands, I commit my spirit,” words that only Luke recorded. These were words not muttered or stammered or spoken in a feigning voice, but in this verse of a Psalm of David, which was cried out to heaven. And this is how Jesus yields his spirit, not in a cry of pain or in anguish, but in prayer to the Father who had once forsaken him.
For now Christ’s work on the cross is finished. And this commander of this Roman detail there guarding the crucifixion site, he must have been ambivalent at first. He probably thought, well, this is just some other Jewish outlaw who’s getting what he deserves, so let’s hurry this along because I need to get home. But now he bears witness to the strange events and he marvels at the words of this man on the cross. The signs and the words had revealed the truth to him, and he praised God for it.
And I think we often wonder if this man, this centurion, truly believed in Christ as the Son of God, as Matthew and Mark tell us, or if, as Luke says, he was truly righteous or saw him as innocent. But we ought not doubt that this man believed any more than or any less than we should doubt that the thief on the cross next to Jesus believed in him as the Messiah. And what other purpose could the evangelists have for telling us this? Because the Holy Spirit directed him that it may be so.
And the centurion, he wasn’t the only one shaken by what he had seen and heard. The formerly hostile crowd, who had come there just simply to see a criminal punished, were brought to contrition, repentance at the turn of events. They came for a spectacle and they left beating their breasts in shame and remorse. And the religious leaders, well, they were probably long gone, tending to way more important business. The Sabbath was coming after all. And one of his family and friends, well, the women who had become his disciples in Galilee and had followed him all the way to Jerusalem, only came to watch him die as they stood at a distance.
And what of his disciples? We know John was there, but they had all scattered when Jesus was taken into custody in the garden. Perhaps others had snuck in, made their way back, and saw everything, but to be sure, they were all in unbelief, unable to comprehend and unwilling to admit that their Lord, their Messiah, was hanging there on that cross, dying a shameful death. So the Romans then would have been content to leave that body on the cross and eventually dispose of it in a common grave with the rest of the criminals. But an unlikely stranger, this wealthy member of the Sanhedrin, Joseph, steps forward to claim the body.
And Joseph ought to remind us maybe of Simeon, the one who waited in the temple for the infant Jesus to appear. This faithful one, who like Joseph, was righteous and looking for the kingdom of God. Joseph wasn’t like his fellow counselors, for he had not voted to condemn Jesus. In fact, John’s Gospel tells us that Joseph was a disciple; he had even risked making himself unclean by going to seek out Pilate and asking for Jesus’ body. And so he hastily makes preparations for Jesus’ burial, and he personally sees to it that the body is taken down, because again, there is no time to waste. The hour is getting late; the Sabbath is approaching.
And the new tomb, worthy of a prosperous man, a rich man, is ready. And so Joseph has Jesus placed in it, and even this was prophesied by Isaiah: “And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death.” And so, the story ends, at least as far as this lesson tonight is concerned. Surely the disciples and the women who followed Jesus and even Joseph thought that it had ended, not really expecting the resurrection. Their teacher was dead; the tomb was sealed; the Sabbath awaited.
And it seemed that life would go on without him. And if you didn’t know how the story ends, you might be surprised to hear it end in such a tale of woe. It ends also with this onerous requirement of the law that the women who would care for Jesus’ body had to wait, for on the Sabbath day, they rested according to the commandment. So they prepared the ointments and the spices to be used first thing Sunday morning, surely fretting all the while about how they would not be able to attend to the Lord’s body. But this story, as we know, does of course have a happy and triumphant ending.
For, though his death must have seemed like a grave miscarriage of justice at the time, it seemed their hope had died with Jesus. It already meant freedom for them, freedom from the very law which they were bound to and were observing. And by his three-day rest in the tomb, the Lord Jesus would bring to rest all those who believed in him, accomplished by his resurrection on that Sunday morning. And we too, of course, know the rest of the story. And it’s not like we don’t have any gospel in it. The word of the Lord is always working, even when it comes in the throes of death, working to bring the lost to faith and to repentance.
The centurion praised God and confessed Christ as righteous. The crowd left in sorrow and contrition and repentance. And some of them might have even been among the crowd there during Peter’s sermon on Pentecost to repent and be baptized. And yes, Nicodemus and Joseph became disciples of Jesus and saw to it that he received a proper burial. All of these works of faith given by the Holy Spirit.
So brothers and sisters in Christ, as we prepare to enter Holy Week, I think it is good that we think and meditate on this passion, on Christ’s suffering, but also on his most fervent desire and will to fulfill what the Father had set before him. That but for a brief moment of darkness, when it seemed all hope had failed, our Lord Jesus overcame it and died to bring light and salvation to the world.
The old temporal life and the darkness surrounding it died, and the new age of eternal life and light had dawned. We think on how Jesus suffered in patience, and so we may know that our own suffering in this life isn’t in vain, but rather for the sake of faith in Christ. And God has torn the curtain in two. It is by and through Christ that we now have the privilege to approach the Father as children of God.
As Christ committed his spirit to the Father, we also should command our daily lives and our bodies and souls to our Heavenly Father. Yes, the long foretold plan came down to everything being done in haste: the trial, the crucifixion, the burial. And the glorious day of his return will also come quickly when those who are asleep in Christ will be raised to newness of life. We too will someday, like Jesus, rest in our tombs, awaiting the resurrection of our bodies. And on that day, we will enter our eternal rest with Him. Amen.
Now, the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen.