The tide turned

John 19:1-16

Then Pilate therefore took Jesus, and scourged Him. And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on His head, and arrayed Him in a purple robe; and they began to come up to Him, and say, "Hail, King of the Jews!" and to give Him blows in the face. And Pilate came out again, and said to them, "Behold, I am bringing Him out to you, that you may know that I find no guilt in Him." Jesus therefore came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. And Pilate said to them, "Behold, the Man!" When therefore the chief priests and the officers saw Him, they cried out, saying, "Crucify, crucify!" Pilate said to them, "Take Him yourselves, and crucify Him, for I find no guilt in Him." The Jews answered him, "We have a law, and by that law He ought to die because He made Himself out to be the Son of God." When Pilate therefore heard this statement, he was the more afraid; and he entered into the Praetorium again, and said to Jesus, "Where are You from?" But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate therefore said to Him, "You do not speak to me? Do You not know that I have authority to release You, and I have authority to crucify You?" Jesus answered, "You would have no authority over Me, unless it had been given you from above; for this reason he who delivered Me up to you has the greater sin." As a result of this Pilate made efforts to release Him, but the Jews cried out, saying, "If you release this Man, you are no friend of Caesar; everyone who makes himself out to be a king opposes Caesar." When Pilate therefore heard these words, he brought Jesus out, and sat down on the judgment seat at a place called The Pavement, but in Hebrew, Gabbatha. Now it was the day of preparation for the Passover; it was about the sixth hour. And he said to the Jews, "Behold, your King!" They therefore cried out, "Away with Him, away with Him, crucify Him!" Pilate said to them, "Shall I crucify your King?" The chief priests answered, "We have no king but Caesar." So he then delivered Him to them to be crucified.

The trouble started when Magi came from the east, their camels loaded with treasure. As soon as they reached Jerusalem they began asking, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw his star in the east, and have come to worship Him.” Word got around quickly. Herod and the chief priests, scribes, and elders, indeed, all Jerusalem and surrounding communities, were greatly troubled. At that point Jesus was as good as dead.

Herod struck, hoping to kill this infant King; but he missed. So it wasn’t until thirty years later when the chief priests and elders saw their chance. It was the same week when Jesus had come into Jerusalem, to choruses of “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” The leaders came to Pilate, the Roman governor, and accused Jesus of claiming to be King. You have no idea how disturbing that would be to a Roman. Not even Caesar would call himself king. First citizen of the Empire, maybe. Tribune of the people, counselor to the Senate, even a god. But king, no. The long history of the Roman Republic was marked by very bitter memories of being ruled by Etruscan kings. So in theory, a Roman subject declaring himself king would mean a lot more than thumbing your nose at Caesar; it would strike at the very identity of the Roman people.

Of course, Pilate didn’t buy it. In his first conversation with Jesus, he soon figured out this “King of the Jews” business had to do with a spiritual kingdom, not of this world. He couldn’t think of anything Jesus had done wrong. Nevertheless, the title “King of the Jews” stuck with him to the end—it was even posted above his head on the cross. In fact, it was the only legal rationale for putting Jesus to death.

Things had been going well for Jesus, lately, though at the same time the danger against him grew and grew. Thousands were following him. The elders and chief priests were afraid to make a move against him, because they didn’t want Jesus’ followers to come after them. But now the tide turned. Here was their chance: make Pilate the bad guy, let the Jews blame him for their Messiah’s death. Pilate must not have been happy about this. He was in a lose-lose situation. Let Jesus go, and word would get around that he was soft on people calling themselves “king.” Put Jesus to death, and he would have innocent blood on his head. Either way, a large number of strong-willed, middle-eastern Jews were sure to be honked off at him. Watch the news if you don’t know what that’s like.

Poor Pilate! And poor Jews, too! How would you feel if a popular, outspoken fellow who does miracles and has thousands of followers started calling you hypocrites, challenged everything you taught, and accused you of being children of the devil? Suppose he threatened to tear down your temple—which he really didn’t—or made himself out to be the Son of God—which he did? Not only Pilate, but many of the leading Jews were afraid of this man. So when the Romans got hold of him, they dressed him in an absurd costume and slapped him around and said, “Hail, King of the Jews!” And when Pilate brought him before the Jews and said, “Behold, your King!” they screamed, “Away with Him, away with Him, crucify Him!” “Shall I crucify your King?” Pilate challenged. “We have no king but Caesar!” they yelled back.

It wasn’t a good day to be the King of the Jews. It was, in fact, a lose-lose day for all concerned, especially Jesus. Admit it, there’s a downside to being whipped, beaten, and pierced with thorns, forced to carry a solid wood cross and then crucified on it. But the alternative was to turn his back on mankind, and let God down. His job as the King of the Jews, according to Scripture, was to suffer and die for our sake, and thus rescue us from sin and hell. Otherwise all mankind would be lost in sin, doomed to perish for all eternity. Jesus got a raw deal on Good Friday, but the result is salvation for all who trust in Him.

When Pilate heard that Jesus had called himself the Son of God, he became frightened. The decision he was about to make was crucial to his career, if not his life. I suppose he made his decision based on fear that if he didn’t get rid of Jesus, the Jews would get rid of him. It seemed likely, considering the mood they were in and the seriousness of their charge against Jesus. Pilate could hardly have foreseen that every Christian would repeat his name for thousands of years afterward, naming him in our creeds as the one responsible for Jesus’ death. But such is history in the making. If Pilate had foreseen what really happened, maybe he wouldn’t have crucified Jesus…and there would be no Gospel for you today.

At that anxious moment in the palace, Pilate scolded Jesus for refusing to answer him: “So you’re not speaking to me? Don’t you realize I have authority either to release you or to crucify you?” But Jesus said: “You have no authority over me that wasn’t given to you from above; for this reason, he who betrayed me into your hands has the greater sin.” Pilate isn’t guiltless, but compared to Judas, for instance, or the Jews who cried, “Crucify!” his is but the guilt of a weak ruler who allowed public pressure to override justice.

Whether you blame the Jews or Pilate, the result is the same. Jesus was handed over to be crucified. This is the point of no return, friends. Until now he has only been an innocent man under arrest, going from trial to trial. Now he’s convicted and sentenced, precious few steps away from the place of crucifixion. Why haven’t the heavens opened up? Why haven’t angels dropped down to deliver him? It’s as if God has turned a blind eye, strange as that might be since Jesus is God. But there it is. He’s mocked and mistreated. He’s thoroughly beaten. He’s presented to the people as a pathetic spectacle: “Behold the Man!” He is so unregarded that the people who want him dead don’t even want to dirty their hands on him.

I’ll bet that in some small way, you know how it feels to be in a fix like that. The tide turns against you, events are swirling around you, things are out of control. Those who have been in car accidents know what it’s like, seeing the unavoidable draw near and having time to think, “Oh, boy. Am I going to live through this?” Sometimes you do and wish you hadn’t. Sometimes you don’t live through it. Jesus didn’t, but he suffered plenty before he died. And he suffered for all of us, for our sake, whether we know what it’s like to look death in the face, or not.

Whether death sneaks up on you or takes you head on, whether life treats you well or things spiral out of control, you have seen the effects sin has on the world and on human lives in particular. You have seen what our fallen world is like, corrupt and decaying. Lives begin with promise and end in disappointment. Families and careers fall apart. Bodies and minds betray their owners. Nature wreaks its awful destruction on property and people. Crime, war, and yes, injustice take their toll on human lives. This is because of sin, and to atone for all this—both for the victims and for the people responsible—Jesus died.

All these things will come to an end, but those who trust in Christ await a new life in an indestructable world to come. What seems out of control really is under control, and with a purpose and will God steers all things toward your salvation. For when the world was at its worst, and the tide had turned against God’s own Son, he was in fact winning his victory. By his death he triumphed over death and all that is evil in the world. His loss is our gain; His cross is our salvation. Mortality will put on immortality. And those who have fallen asleep, will awaken never again to die.

Now we can look at the unavoidable disasters of our life and see in them the cross of Jesus. There we see him delivering us from this fallen condition to an everlasting joy, in a glorified body, in the blessed presence of God and all saints, where evil and pain and death will never be seen again. Just when the world seemed most hopeless, hope was born: hope that looks through trials and suffering toward the bliss to come, which Jesus has won for us.

Yes, it was a bad day to be King of the Jews, and things seemed to be spiraling out of control for Jesus. But in fact, everything happened according to his plan, and from his throne on the cross he established a new Kingdom in which you and I are subjects. Bought by his blood, made alive by his death, we live to serve our King the Son of David with eager hearts, hands, and voices. Christ has all things in his control, and orders all things for the good of his people; to Him be all praise and thanks forever!

He stood innocently

John 18:28-40

They led Jesus therefore from Caiaphas into the Praetorium, and it was early; and they themselves did not enter into the Praetorium in order that they might not be defiled, but might eat the Passover. Pilate therefore went out to them, and said, "What accusation do you bring against this Man?" They answered and said to him, "If this Man were not an evildoer, we would not have delivered Him up to you." Pilate therefore said to them, "Take Him yourselves, and judge Him according to your law." The Jews said to him, "We are not permitted to put anyone to death," that the word of Jesus might be fulfilled, which He spoke, signifying by what kind of death He was about to die. Pilate therefore entered again into the Praetorium, and summoned Jesus, and said to Him, "Are You the King of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Are you saying this on your own initiative, or did others tell you about Me?" Pilate answered, "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests delivered You up to me; what have You done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, then My servants would be fighting, that I might not be delivered up to the Jews; but as it is, My kingdom is not of this realm." Pilate therefore said to Him, "So You are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say correctly that I am a king. For this I have been born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice." Pilate said to Him, "What is truth?" And when he had said this, he went out again to the Jews, and said to them, "I find no guilt in Him. "But you have a custom, that I should release someone for you at the Passover; do you wish then that I release for you the King of the Jews?" Therefore they cried out again, saying, "Not this Man, but Barabbas." Now Barabbas was a robber.

I think this might be the most ironic sentence in the Bible, at least in the top ten: “And they themselves did not enter into the Praetorium in order that they might not be defiled, but might eat the Passover.” It’s ironic because the Jews were offering up the real Passover Lamb, of whom their supper was but a shadow or copy. Christ was about to be sacrificed, not to shoo away the angel of death from the children of Israel, but to sprinkle all nations with his blood and deliver all mankind from sin. The Jews were turning the Lord’s Messiah over to pagan authorities to be executed. They were flatly rejecting their God. Yet such was their hypocrisy that they didn’t want to defile themselves, to become ceremonially unclean by setting foot inside a Gentile establishment. After thus disposing of God’s Son, heaven forbid they should miss the Passover!

The ironies grow thick on the ground. These people had tried to stone Jesus earlier, had long sought a way to kill him. But now when Pilate tells them to deal with him themselves, they protest: “We are not permitted to put anyone to death,” that is, only the government can impose capital punishment. The Jews protest too much! What they really wanted was to lay the blame for Jesus’ death on the Romans. That way the chief priests and scribes and elders could escape blame when the people found out this gifted and popular preacher had been destroyed. They were looking for a way to dispose of Jesus without being in danger from their own people. What better scapegoat than the Roman government, which as far as the Jews were concerned could do nothing right! Let Pilate be the villain!

More irony: given the choice between Jesus, who had done nothing, and Barabbas, a robber, insurrectionist, and murderer, they chose to set Barabbas free. So badly did they want Jesus dead, they preferred to have a real criminal turned loose than to spare the innocent man’s life. When Pilate tried to set Jesus free, the Jews threatened him, saying, “If you release this man, you are no friend of Caesar, for everyone who makes himself out to be a king opposes Caesar.” And later, when Pilate said, “Shall I crucify your king?” they wailed, “We have no king but Caesar!” They were singing a different tune now. These people had resisted Roman rule all along, considering it idolatry to pay honor and taxes to Caesar. Now they wanted so badly to get rid of this “King of the Jews,” they would rather swear loyalty to Caesar than be stuck with Jesus.

Thanks to such ironies, it isn’t so easy to blame Pilate for all that happened to Jesus. The Jews wanted Jesus dead and they wanted it bad. And they more or less blackmailed Pilate into doing it. He was scared. He was confused. And he was worn down from the Jews pestering him to crucify Jesus. But let’s not be too quick to let Pilate off the hook. For he knew the man before him stood innocently accused. Twice he said, “I find no guilt in Him.” Yet even while insisting there was no evidence against Jesus, he had the man flogged within an inch of his life, mocked and knocked around by his guards. He didn’t hear a single piece of evidence against Jesus, only shaky arguments like, “If he weren’t an evildoer, we wouldn’t have brought him to you,” and, “If you release this man, you’re no friend of Caesar.” None of these arguments proved anything; basically, when Pilate asked them what Jesus had done wrong, their answer was: “He deserves death. Just take our word for it.”

So he stood innocently, and Pilate knew it. But he didn’t do the right thing. First he hoped the Jews would just take Jesus and do what they wanted, but they weren’t about to let Pilate off that easy. So at last Pilate gave up trying to get Jesus set free. He washed his hands of the affair and let them take Jesus away and crucify him. He gave them a governor’s death warrant for a man who, to his knowledge, had done nothing wrong.

Pilate had an important role to play. Even as the Jews used him to accomplish what they wanted without suffering the consequences, at the same time God used both their evil and Pilate’s cowardice for His own purpose. Remember what John says, when the Jews protest, “We are not permitted to put anyone to death,” that the word of Jesus might be fulfilled, which he spoke signifying by what kind of death He was about to die. Both the Old Testament and Jesus Himself had predicted he would be crucified. In one place Jesus said, “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in Him may have eternal life.” And again, “The Son of Man will be delivered to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn Him to death, and will deliver Him to the Gentiles to mock and scourge and crucify, and on the third day He will be raised up.” The Psalms and prophets describe the Messiah suffering and dying in a manner that seems like crucifixion, as in Psalm 22 for example. All these predictions came true when the Jews insisted on having Jesus executed under Roman law. For it was the Romans, not the Jews, who practiced crucifixion, though it was the Jews, not the Romans, who wanted him dead.

You see? Jesus stood innocently while Jews called for his crucifixion, and Pilate dithered around and finally gave in to their demands. Yet the one who was really in charge was Jesus, so the word he had spoken—both in person, and through the prophets—should be fulfilled. This raises the story well beyond a miscarriage of justice. This is more than the tragedy of an innocent man railroaded into an early grave. Those predictions were set in place for this purpose, that one Man and only one Man could fulfill them and show himself to be more than a mere Man.

This is the Messiah, God’s beloved Son made flesh, the one promised through the Law and prophets and Psalms. He has appeared, and as he stands innocently before Pilate he is doing the work he came to do. He dies not just for himself, or for crimes he supposedly committed, or because of the anger of the Jews. He dies to restore mankind to God’s good graces. He dies to atone for sins. He dies in the place of you and you and you, and me, and Annas, and Caiaphas, and Pilate, and everyone. In seeming defeat, we have a champion who sacrificed his life to rescue us from hell and to earn for us salvation and eternal life.

Pilate asks two fateful questions: “Am I a Jew?” and “What is truth?” The first question takes the good old pagan point of view: “Hey buddy, whatever works for you! If you believe that, good for you. I happen to believe something else, which is good for me. Perhaps we’re all looking for the same truth, and hopefully we’ll all make it to the same place.” That pagan point of view, as in, “Am I a Jew?” is very evident in our world today. One religion is considered as good as another; so let’s all keep our shirts on and get along. The other question, “What is truth?” approaches it from a more secular point of view. There’s no absolute truth, the thinking goes. We all make it up our own reality as we go along. The wisdom of the age, to this day, follows Pilate’s philosophy: it’s foolish, if not dangerous, to be stuck on one particular set of beliefs as though that’s the truth, whether anyone believes it or not. Whether God exists doesn’t even matter; it’s all in your own mind.

Well, against that philosophy, Jesus says: “For this I have been born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.” And the truth is, the man who stood before Pilate isn’t just an unfortunate victim of circumstance. He’s not just a guy who had the bad luck to cross the wrong Jews, he’s not just a sentimental hero we should shed tears for because they done him wrong. He is the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the Father but through Him.

Jesus stood innocently accused, and he went innocently to his death, but as God he was in charge of what was happening. He made use of the evil of his times to accomplish the highest good for mankind: he redeemed us from sin, death, and the devil. Everything is in the palm of his hand, so when he went to the cross he went on purpose. And his purpose was, to put it plainly, your salvation. His innocent suffering and death were the cost he willingly paid to deliver you from the guilt of your sin and everlasting punishment. So that tragic defeat for truth, justice, and right was in fact, the ultimate victory. And that is the truth, the only truth, by which all who believe it will be saved.

How’s that for irony?

He spoke openly

John 18:15-27

And Simon Peter was following Jesus, and so was another disciple. Now that disciple was known to the high priest, and entered with Jesus into the court of the high priest, but Peter was standing at the door outside. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the doorkeeper, and brought in Peter. The slave-girl therefore who kept the door said to Peter, "You are not also one of this man's disciples, are you?" He said, "I am not." Now the slaves and the officers were standing there, having made a charcoal fire, for it was cold and they were warming themselves; and Peter also was with them, standing and warming himself. The high priest therefore questioned Jesus about His disciples, and about His teaching. Jesus answered him, "I have spoken openly to the world; I always taught in synagogues, and in the temple, where all the Jews come together; and I spoke nothing in secret. "Why do you question Me? Question those who have heard what I spoke to them; behold, these know what I said." And when He had said this, one of the officers standing by gave Jesus a blow, saying, "Is that the way You answer the high priest?" Jesus answered him, "If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness of the wrong; but if rightly, why do you strike Me?" Annas therefore sent Him bound to Caiaphas the high priest. Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They said therefore to him, "You are not also one of His disciples, are you?" He denied it, and said, "I am not." One of the slaves of the high priest, being a relative of the one whose ear Peter cut off, said, "Did I not see you in the garden with Him?" Peter therefore denied it again; and immediately a cock crowed.

There is much to be said on the Gospel you have just heard. I hope you will forgive me, then, if I keep my remarks brief. In fact, I have nothing to say tonight about Peter’s denial of Jesus. Stuck in the middle of that sad story is this exchange from the Annas’ interrogation of Jesus. I don’t think it is often preached on. Christians are apt to overlook it as just one of many details from the Passion of Jesus. But it does speak to the situation the church finds itself in today.

The high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching. Jesus replied, “I have spoken openly to the world; I always taught in the synagogues, and in the temple, where all the Jews come together; and I spoke nothing in secret. Why do you question Me? Question those who have heard what I spoke to them; behold, those know what I said.” We know as well, because Jesus’ teaching has been passed down to us through the New Testament scriptures, especially the four gospels. Jesus still proclaims his Word in the church, still teaches young and old about who he is and how he has saved us. And he has told us in advance that we should expect opportunities to tell others what he has taught us. This means that he teaches through you and me, when we teach his word. It also means that when we are called on to confess his faith, we must be prepared to do so. When our faith is put to the test, we will need to know what God’s Word teaches and to speak from the courage of our convictions. So when the enemies of Christ demand to know about the doctrine of Christ, we can and must speak what he has spoken to us, through his word and ministry and all who have taught us the Gospel.

When the opportunity to confess the truth arises, he will speak through us—unless, like St. Peter, you would rather deny our Lord than confess him. But bear in mind what Jesus told his disciples: “Everyone who shall confess Me before men, I will also confess him before My Father who is in heaven. But whoever shall deny Me before men, I will also deny him before My Father who is in heaven.” To speak out and proclaim Christ may take courage, and it may require overcoming some fear… fear of public speaking maybe, or fear of people, what they will say or think about you, if not what they will do to you. But remember what Jesus said: “A slave is not greater than his master. If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you; if they had kept My word, they would keep yours also. But all these things they will do to you for My name’s sake, because they do not know the One who sent Me.” And again: “Do not fear them who kill the body, but are unable to kill the soul; rather fear God who can destroy both body and soul in hell.”

On the brighter side, Jesus also said: “Blessed are you when men cast insults at you and persecute you and slander you for my sake; rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great; for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” And again: “Fear not, little flock, for your Father has chosen gladly to give you the kingdom.” And yet again: “I will give you utterance and wisdom which none of your opponents can resist or refute.” Now if you fear making a public confession of faith because you’re not sure you know enough, then it behooves you to study it and seek instruction in God’s Word. You need to know what Jesus says; for when the world questions Jesus, you may be the one who has to answer.

“Question those who have heard what I spoke to them; behold, those know what I said.” I hope that is still true of our church today, and that it will remain true as long as God’s Word needs to be confessed. But it is natural to be daunted by this task, for if Jesus God’s Son can take a blow to the face for saying this, imagine what the world may do to us! But hear Jesus’ response: “If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness of the wrong; but if rightly, why do you strike Me?” If we are ridiculed, or hated, or called fools, or even persecuted for teaching what Jesus has taught us, that is no reason to change our tune or to reconsider whether we are telling the truth. Unbelievers will deal out blows without regard for truth or justice. We are not to be discouraged by them, or waver in doubt as to whether our cause is just or our teaching is true. An opinion poll does not establish truth. A majority vote does not equate with “Thus saith the Lord.”

Gospel proclamation, evangelism, outreach, call it what you will, is not to be a popularity contest. In many places the church has taken up such an attitude. Showing people that you care, and being welcoming and inviting, and providing attractive programs and a nurturing environment, are all very nice in and of themselves. But asking the ministers and teachers to tone down the confession of the truth, why, that’s just plain out of line. Some will tell you that making disciples is more important than clutching rigid doctrinal standards, but you could ask them: What are you making them disciples for? Disciples of what? Disciples of niceness and welcoming and inviting and learning to make more disciples? But for what? Following what master? Listening to whose voice? Believing what? Hoping for what? Leading to what eternal destiny? Some say they put making disciples ahead of doctrinal discipline, but how can you make them disciples without discipline? Some say you don’t have to put all your doctrinal priorities on display up front, let it wait until after you’ve brought people in—but when will the time ever be right to introduce them to the whole truth? And after you’ve lied to them and deceived them or withheld part of the truth from them, will they not have every reason to shake the dust off their feet and leave?

If the truth offends, so be it. If it gets us in trouble, if it earns us a slap in the face, so be it. It happened to Christ, and a servant is not greater than his master, is he? “If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness of the wrong; but if rightly, why do you strike Me?” If our teaching is obnoxious, if it is scandalous, if it drives people away, that alone is no reason to go about changing it or challenging it. The real question is, is it right? Is it the truth? And if you cannot show me where it is wrong, then what’s your problem?

Jesus declared his truth to the world. How? Openly. When? Always. The time was always right, no matter how he declared it, no matter how upsetting it was to some, it was always God’s Word and it deserved to be spoken openly, in the light of day, in the hearing of all. We are not to hide anything, we are not to keep any secrets; we are to tell the whole world, whether they like it or not, what Christ has delivered to us to speak. Of course we will be questioned, which is why we must know what we are talking about. But we will not be moved even if we are slapped in the face, even if we are dragged away in chains, even if we are whipped and beaten and mocked and put to death. By so much less will we be discouraged if we are merely sniffed at and declared silly, uncouth, or crude.

For where Christ’s word is not proclaimed, always and openly and truthfully, no disciples will be made. It’s a funny thing, but the same word that is foolishness to some and a stumbling block to others, is God’s power to save. The problem is not that the truth is bad, or God’s Word is wrong, but that man’s heart is set against it by nature. Through that Word of Christ, the Holy Spirit changes hearts and installs life and faith and the love of God. Through the doctrine of Christ faithfully and unwaveringly preached and taught, God will install Lutheranism right here—as long as we do not hide it and keep it a secret. And we can put our best foot forward by being all of one mind about it, and standing together in brotherhood and mutual support. We can serve God’s Word best by knowing what it teaches, by testing every spirit accordingly to see whether it is from God, by throwing out what is wrong and championing what is right. But God’s Word will do its work, whether through us or in spite of us. Which way would you prefer?

He went willingly

John 18:1-14

When Jesus had spoken these words, He went forth with His disciples over the ravine of the Kidron, where there was a garden, into which He Himself entered, and His disciples. Now Judas also, who was betraying Him, knew the place; for Jesus had often met there with His disciples. Judas then, having received the Roman cohort, and officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees, came there with lanterns and torches and weapons. Jesus therefore, knowing all the things that were coming upon Him, went forth, and said to them, "Whom do you seek?" They answered Him, "Jesus the Nazarene." He said to them, "I am He." And Judas also who was betraying Him, was standing with them. When therefore He said to them, "I am He," they drew back, and fell to the ground. Again therefore He asked them, "Whom do you seek?" And they said, "Jesus the Nazarene." Jesus answered, "I told you that I am He; if therefore you seek Me, let these go their way," that the word might be fulfilled which He spoke, "Of those whom Thou hast given Me I lost not one." Simon Peter therefore having a sword, drew it, and struck the high priest's slave, and cut off his right ear; and the slave's name was Malchus. Jesus therefore said to Peter, "Put the sword into the sheath; the cup which the Father has given Me, shall I not drink it?" So the Roman cohort and the commander, and the officers of the Jews, arrested Jesus and bound Him, and led Him to Annas first; for he was father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year. Now Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was expedient for one man to die on behalf of the people.

A very famous passion play is performed every ten years at a town in Germany called Oberammargau, another somewhere in South Dakota, and any number of “multimedia” passion plays are done in churches across the country. Also, if you’re familiar with classical music, you know of the oratorio-like passions composed by Bach, Schütz, and others. So you already know there’s another meaning for the word “passion” than the one used in soap operas. The Passion is the story of our Lord’s suffering and death, including his arrest in the garden and events leading to it. Of course Jesus suffered all this because of his great love for us, you might even say “passionate love,” but that’s not why it’s called the Passion.

The word Passion comes from the Latin word meaning “to suffer,” and that’s what Jesus did during the days and hours before he was betrayed, during the long night of trials and interrogations, and finally, during those six hours when he hung on the cross. So today is Passion Sunday, and this week is Passion Week. During these seven days we will look at the Passion of our Lord according to St. John. Each of the four Gospels views Jesus’ passion somewhat differently. They stress different details. One omits this, another contributes that. We could profit from listening to the Passion according to each of the four gospels. But today and for the next six nights, we will look especially closely at John’s account of the sorrows of our Lord.

You’ll notice another word in your programs this week: “Unraveling.” I’ve chosen this theme because it expresses the significance of what Jesus suffered. In a way, it seemed that creation itself was coming apart. The heavens were darkened, the earth shook, rocks were split, tombs opened, the veil in the temple was torn. God Himself, in the flesh, hung dead on a cross. But things didn’t fall apart then. The world didn’t end, and Christ wasn’t defeated, as he proved Easter morning. The word “unraveling” has another meaning too. In literary circles they use the French word denouement, which means “unraveling,” to mean the conclusion of a difficult plot, the solution to all problems, wrapping up all the loose ends in a final grand gesture. When Jesus said, “It is finished!”—as you will hear on Friday—man’s warfare with God was ended; the problem of sin was solved; God’s just anger was satisfied; all that needed done for our redemption was done; Jesus’ sufferings had ended; salvation was perfected; the world’s history came to its real climax. In fact, the world as we know it came to an end, and a new creation was born. The Passion of our Lord is a triumph hidden in defeat, a stroke for God disguised as a stroke upon God’s Son. It is his mighty and magnificent answer to the question that has had all creation on edge since man fell into sin: How will it all end? Now we know the answer, and all that has happened since Jesus rose again is like a big fat epilog that adds essentially nothing to the story.

While we’re defining words, let’s go back to the word “suffering.” We tend to think suffering means “to endure pain.” Now Jesus’ passion is more than just his suffering on the cross, more even than his being whipped and beaten and forced to wear thorns on his head. There was also his agony in the garden, as he sweated drops of blood and prayed that, God willing, this cup might pass him by. But not all of this story is about “suffering” in the sense of pain. The word “suffering” also has another meaning, which is: to let something be done to you. In old-fashioned language, “suffer” is the opposite of “do.” Going back to the connection between “passion” and “suffering,” maybe you can see how the word “suffer” indicates a passive disposition, whereas “do” indicates an active one.

You know Jesus’ words, “Suffer the little children to come to me.” That doesn’t mean, “Pinch them real hard till they run into my arms.” It means, “Allow them to come,” or even better, “Cause them to be brought to me,” a totally passive thing. So the passion, or suffering, of Jesus, mainly concerns what he allowed to happen to himself. He went willingly to the place of slaughter. He endured all this suffering and did nothing to prevent it, on purpose, because he loves us so much. Here’s how John summarizes what Jesus did on the night he was betrayed: “Knowing that His hour had come that He should depart out of this world to the Father, having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end.” Again Jesus himself says that very night: “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.”

Jesus suffered himself to be subjected to priests and the Sanhedrin, to Herod and Pilate. He subjected himself to sadistic Roman soldiers and a jeering mob of Jews who wanted his blood. And finally, he made himself obedient to God the Father, obedient to death, even death on a cross. Why? Because he loved us and was willing to give himself utterly for us, to redeem us from sin and buy us back from Satan, death, and hell. Though we were not his friends, but rather, enemies in sin, God loved us so much that he gave his Son in exchange for us. God sent Him for this purpose, and He went willingly!

We are so accustomed to this story, maybe we fail to see how awesome it is. Pilate himself marveled at this, but Jesus told him: “My kingdom is not of this world. If My Kingdom were of this world, then My servants would be fighting, that I might not be delivered up to the Jews.” In other words, he could have prevented all this from happening. Even though his kingdom is not of this world, he had the power to stop everything and get away clean. Instead, willingly, as a humble servant, he went all the way. “The Son of Man came not to be served,” Jesus said, “but to serve, and give his life as a ransom for many.”

Look at the story of his arrest, our lesson for today. When the Roman cohort and Jewish officers came with lanterns and torches and weapons, they were prepared for a man who might resist arrest—or worse, sic his followers on them and start a nasty battle. Instead Jesus, knowing all the things that were coming upon him, went forth and said, “Whom do you seek?” And when they had made it clear they were out to arrest him, he said, “If it’s me you want, let these men go”—so his disciples would be spared. When Peter lashed out and injured Malchus, Jesus said, “Put up your sword; shall I not drink the cup which the Father has given Me?” Even though the soldiers and officers bound him and led him away, it is clear Jesus gave himself up without resistance and went willingly.

What makes this meek submission so awesome is the fact of who is offering himself up so calmly. For when they told him they were looking for Jesus of Nazareth, he responded: “I AM.” And at the mention of the Lord’s covenant name, the “I am who I am” of Exodus 3:14, the whole posse was knocked flat on their backs. This man who was about to be led away in chains, meek and submissive, now identified himself as the Lord of heaven and earth, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who spoke to Moses out of the burning bush, now found in the form of a man. Jesus called himself the “I AM” and it just blew them away. They got up, as if dazed, and went through the same exchange: “Whom do you seek?” “Jesus of Nazareth.” “I told you that I AM…” Only this time, he let them take him in to custody.

Jesus had the power to drop them on their bottoms just by mentioning His name. He had essentially called himself Jehovah, and by way of demonstration, his very words knocked their feet out from under them. They had come to arrest him and, ultimately, to destroy him, but even these pagans and unbelieving Jews, were all forced to fall down in a sort of reverence toward this mighty God-Man. They could not have touched him, they could not have taken him anywhere against his will, unless he went willingly!

What man among us would do that, knowing the things that were to come? Yet Jesus said to Peter, “Shall I not drink the cup which the Father has given Me?” In other words, it was necessary for Jesus to suffer, in order for us to be saved. Caiaphas, the high priest, had stumbled upon a truth: “It is expedient for one man to die on behalf of the people.”

What Caiaphas meant was, it’s better that this so-called Messiah die than that he should disturb the people, possibly cause a rebellion or upset the delicate dance between Jews and Romans, possibly split the Jews into warring factions or bring down the wrath of Rome. Caiaphas had his eye on the security of the nation, especially at a time when many Jews were growing comfortable with Greek and Roman culture. Here came a preacher condemning all that, accusing the Pharisees of being hypocrites, insulting the Sadducees, dealing with sinners, breaking taboos, and threatening the balance between good Jews and Roman subjects. It was better, he reasoned, for Jesus to die instead of the whole people.

Ironically, Judaism as he knew it was destroyed precisely because Caiaphas and his party rejected Jesus. You remember what Jesus had prophesied about Jerusalem: “Not one stone will be left standing on another.” That came true in the year 70, when the Romans burned the city and drove the Jews out of the area. Caiaphas’ policy, that it’s expedient for one man to die on behalf of the people, came true but not the way he envisioned it. The “people” he meant were after all destroyed because of what they did to Jesus. But in fact, Jesus did die for the people, that is, all mankind, and his death brings life to all who believe in Him.

Jesus suffered and died in the place of all, for the sake of all, and to the advantage of all who believe. He bore our sins and carried our sorrows; he was punished as we deserve to be punished; he died to win for us eternal life. Such was the cup Jesus took from the Father, and he drank it to the bitter dregs. Why? Because he loves us, and so urgently wants to save us that he did the unthinkable. The Almighty became weak for us. The Lord became a servant. The giver of life accepted a death sentence. And the light of the world went into darkness for us. He whose name bowled over a Roman cohort in the garden, held out his hands to be chained and bound and led away to slaughter.

Why is this so important? Well, you need to know that nothing but His love for you compelled Jesus to suffer like this. Nothing but ineffable grace made him subject himself to such punishment. This was the necessary prelude to all things being subjected to him. Before he could ascend in triumph, and sit at the right hand of God to rule the cosmos, Jesus must humble himself so deeply and descend into such agony. Paul tells us to be of the same mind: that is, submit yourselves to cross and trial, dejection and humiliation, even to death, knowing that afterward, for Jesus’ sake, you will be exalted with Him. Jesus will be worshiped and confessed by every knee and tongue, not only because he is Lord of Lords, but especially because he bent his neck under the load of sin; he was marred out of all semblance to mankind. He became a byword, a curse, an object of mockery, and finally, a hunk of dead meat that squirted water and blood when the soldier’s spear poked it.

He came from heaven and returned there, but all that would mean nothing to us if he had not made satisfaction for our sins, if he had not drunk the cup the Father gave him. Otherwise we would drink that cup, and we would never finish drinking it for all eternity; we would be suffering and dying endlessly, in hell. But as Caiaphas ignorantly told the truth: “It is expedient for one man to die on behalf of the people.” He alone, as God, could drain all that cup of wrath, and with one crucial act of submission—even death on a cross—he could tie up both death and hell for every sinner. He endured all that God’s justice could exact. Wonderfully, mysteriously, in six hours on a cross, he perfected our salvation.

It had to be daunting, even for a Man who is God. We are told he was troubled about what was to come. But knowingly and willingly, he went. Thanks be to Jesus! Having put himself in submission to the base things of this world, he has placed all things in submission to himself. He has risen victorious and is seated at the right hand of God, where all things have been put under his feet. So when he declares our sins forgiven, they are forgiven; when he promises us resurrection and eternal life, they are assured; and when we face cross and temptation, humiliation and pain, and even the very grave itself, we go forward with confidence and face them. For we know the one who faced them for us is the great I AM. He will see us through them, and will afterward crown us with glory everlasting. Shall we not therefore go and die with him, die to sin, die to doubt, even lay down our very lives for the sake of his name? Certainly we shall, for he had no obligation to suffer and die for us, except the great love by which he went willingly.

The Unraveling

While I'm at home, suffering from a cold on Maundy Thursday, I might as well post a series of homilies I preached during Holy Week, 2002, at the church where I was then pastor. It was a series on the Passion According to St. John, to which I gave the overall title "The Unraveling."

I seem to recall writing all 7 sermons in a two-day flash of energy. At any other time I would have thought it ridiculous to try writing a different sermon for every day of the week, but the prospect of preaching on these texts was too exciting to miss. May they be of use to you during your Passion devotions!

Peruvian food in Shrewsbury

In celebration of my taxes getting filed, plus the only evening this week that I have to myself, I went out to a Peruvian restaurant called "Mango" in the St. Louis suburb of Shrewsbury, MO. I had only been there once before, quite a while ago, and all I remembered about it was an impression of some kind of pasta. I thought it might be nice to give it another try.

Mango is a small place in a strip mall off Watson Road called McKenzie Point. It is decorated in reds and golds, with a prominent display of wine bottles (and an interesting list of wines, beers, and other stimulating drinks). There is a bar along one side of the place, and tables and booths in light muted by the wooden window blinds. Near the hostess' podium a large arrangement of wax (?) fruit stands atop a wooden barrel. The tables are all covered with white cloth, plus a protective sheet of white paper on top. As soon as you sit down, without your even asking, they serve you a glass of water (which does get refilled, also without your asking), a generous dish of plantain chips, a small cup of a kind of runny guacamole, and a "spider dish" of a unique dip that looks like salsa (chunks of tomato and onion) but has a lemony bite.

The menu is attractive, with enough dishes on it to offer a variety without overwhelming you. The prices are a bit higher than you would like to spend every day, but for special occasions you can live with them.

Tonight I started with a Tamal. Like its Mexican cousin, the Peruvian tamal is a cylindrical cake of steamed cornbread with pork down the center. Only, instead of a corn husk, it came wrapped in a square piece of banana leaf. Plus, it contained chunks of peanut and stuffed, green olive. Plus, there was a pile of hot-and-sour shaved pickled onion on the side. It was very interesting. But also tasty!

For my main course, I ordered something called Lomo Saltado. It turned out to be a huge pile of juicy steak, cut into short, approximately bite-sized strips, mixed with pieces of grilled tomato, onion, and pepper that had a surprising amount of crispness left in them, without seeming at all "undercooked." About four steak fries were scattered over the top, which at first seemed disappointing until I discovered more fries under & in the beef-and-veg mix. With a scattering of herbs and a dark, savory sauce in which I suspected the presence of wine, it was comparable to fajitas but much, much better. Plus, on the side was a beautiful mound of sticky white rice, molded into a cylinder with a smooth, concave top and scattered with a few kernels of corn, chunks of red bell pepper, and crumbled green herbs. The bottom of this rice tower soaked up the extra sauce from the Lomo Saltado, a combination that tasted great.

Besides water, I drank a can of Inca Kola on the rocks. The "golden kola" looks like Mountain Dew and tastes like Cream Soda. It's the first Peruvian soft drink I've ever had, so don't knock it. I wasn't in the mood for alcohol.

Finally, I decided to go "whole hog" and have dessert. Believe it or not, I don't do this often. But the chocolate torta sounded too good to refuse, and it was. The chocolate cake wasn't sliced very thick, but it didn't have to be; it was huge. Oozing heavy, dark-chocolate frosting (practically fudge), served on a plate drizzled with chololate syrup, and garnished with two blobs of whipped cream and a cherry, it was a rich finish for a hearty supper.

It was fairly quiet at Mango this evening. I don't know if that means that more people need to discover this small fine-dining spot. Maybe you're just licking your wounds after a visit to H & R Block. But I daresay this Peruvian cuisine would help get the taste out of your mouth.

Much Ado About Zero Credits

My all-time favorite tale about the world's fat-stupid-jerkitude comes from my undergrad years, when I was a music major at a small state university. All music majors were required to take a zero-credit course called "Recital Class" every quarter. This meant that, several times a quarter, you had to attend a "general recital" during which faculty members and/or students performed excerpts from their upcoming recitals. Plus, you had to turn in about five programs for art-music performances you attended each quarter. What it basically amounted to was a way of making sure music majors spent at least some time taking in live performances of music.

The class cost nothing, because tuition is billed as a dollar amount per credit, and this one had zero credits. It was a pass/no-credit class; you either passed or you didn't. But you had to have a pass for each quarter during which you were a music major.

The problem: it's hard to remember to register for a zero-credit class, even (indeed, especially) one you have registered for every quarter since you declared your major. One quarter, I did forget to register for Recital Class. I kept turning in programs and attending General Recitals. I fulfilled all the requirements to pass the class. Then, early in the next quarter, the secretary of the department told me that she couldn't give me a grade because I wasn't registered for the last quarter's class. Oops. I would just have to register for the class retroactively...somehow.

I went to the Registars' Office to ask what I should do about this. The receptionist told me that I needed to speak to Mr. __, one of the registrars. (His name is omitted to protect a fat, stupid jerk--me.) I asked when I could speak to him. The receptionist said Mr. __ was out of town for a week or two, but she penciled me in for an appointment soon after his expected return.

A week or two later, I visited with Mr. __. He listened to my story with evident skepticism. Finally he declared that, before he could register me for a class that took place the previous quarter, I needed to bring him a letter from the chair of the music department, assuring him that I had fulfilled the requirements for a passing grade.

So I went back to the Department Chair's office, where the secretary told me the Chair had gone out of town for a week or two. She penciled me into the schedule for some time soon after the chair's return.

A week or two later, I visited with the Chair of the Department. It took a while to convince her that she, personally, needed to write a letter regarding a matter she knew nothing about, so that I could register for a class that had already ended. Finally she agreed to have the department secretary write it, and then she would sign it.

Eventually (I don't know whether another week or two went by) I collected this letter and took it back to the Registrars' Office. But Mr. __ was out of town again. The receptionist penciled me in for another appointment. A week or two later, when I spoke to Mr. __ for the second time, he acted as if he had never met me and had no recollection of our previous discussion. He seemed even more skeptical than before, even after carefully reading every word of the department chair's memo.

Finally, Mr. __ said he would register me for the previous quarter's Recital Class; but first I must go to the Cashiers' Window and pay the tuition. I asked him if he realized, as a college registrar, that there was no tuition for a zero-credit class. Mr. __ said he knew that, and he had meant to say I would have to pay a late-registration fee. Tactfully mentioning that late-registration fees were reckoned as a percentage of tuition, I asked him how much money he had in mind. For some reason Mr. __ seemed a little impatient as he named a figure (maybe $15), told me to bring him a receipt from the cashier, and ejected me from his office.

I went to the Cashiers' Window and explained that I need to pay a late-registration fee for such-and-such class. The cashier looked up my student account in her computer and said, "This doesn't show that you owe any fees." I said it was for a class the registrar, Mr. __, was going to register me for, but only after I had paid the fee. The cashier said, "Honey, we can't charge you for a fee that isn't in our system. You have to be registered for the class before we can charge you for late registration."

I made a big, silent O with my mouth, and went straight back to the Registrars' Office. By some miracle, I got right into see Mr. __ without having to wait. I said, "Here's the problem. You said you won't register me for the class until I pay a late-registration fee. The cashier says I can't pay a late-registration fee until I'm registered for the class. Is there some way around this Catch-22?"

Mr. __, who by now was positively snippy, said, "Just give me the damn money." I gave him the damn money, and stood by patiently while he scribbled a handwritten receipt. And so I saved my college transcript from the horrible want of a zero-credit course.