Luke 23:32-43 "Choose Love"

        I am told that if you look not too far outside the walls of Jerusalem, you will behold a sight that will haunt you for a long time, if not forever.  It is about 250 yards northeast of the Damascus Gate.  This gate is one of the main ones into the Holy City.  It might even be the gate through which Pontius Pilate would enter Jerusalem in one of his grandiose processions designed to both honor him and to show off Roman military might and finery.

         If you look off in that direction, you will see a rather large cliff, maybe 60 feet high.  It is ancient and gray and is embedded with rocks.  In that cliff are three large indentations. Using your imagination a bit, you can almost see the face of a skull carved into that rock face:  Two empty eye sockets and a gaping mouth. 

         At the foot of the hill is a fairly level place, perhaps once used for a garbage dump.  But even then, there would be room for a tall, wood-hewn cross, room enough, in fact, for three of them.  This was likely a place of execution, a place of crucifixion.  This is likely Golgotha, the Place of the Skull.  This is likely where Jesus was torturously killed.

          Crucifixion may well be the cruelest form of human capital punishment ever devised.  Though the Romans did not invent it, they certainly perfected it.  Though death was its ultimate outcome, it was not its only purpose.  Crucifixion was also designed to inflict unimaginable pain and the utmost of shame. 

         It was not used for Roman citizens but was reserved for those non-Romans found guilty of sedition, treason, and not operating in the best interest of the Roman Empire of which they were a part – even if not by choice.  Crucifixion was also used to send a message:  Don’t mess with Rome.  Consequently, crucifixion was the go to instrument of death when someone like Pontius Pilate thought it prudent to destroy movements such as the populist one he and too many others feared that Jesus was starting.

         It was to this place – Golgotha – that, according to tradition, Jesus carried the heavy top bar of his cross, with the help of Simon of Cyrene.  Beaten, whipped with the requisite 39 lashes, sporting a split upper lip, Jesus walked what should have been a brisk ten minute jaunt from his place of sentencing to the scene of his execution –ten minutes if you were just taking garbage to the dump.  But, of course, he was not doing that, and there was also all the people crowding and jostling each other on either side of the dirt road.  It took quite a bit longer, much to the chagrin of the soldiers trying to keep things moving along at an orderly pace. 

         Some of the people stood in silence, their eyes following the painful procession.  Others shook their heads sadly and whispered among themselves:  “So sorry.”  “So sad.”  “He was so young.”  Some of the women wept and wailed at his anguish.  Jewish leaders who had infiltrated the peasant crowd had incited others. With their sharp tongues, they mocked and jeered him.  “He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.”  Their bloodthirsty mantra spread through the crowd.

         Upon reaching the Place of the Skull, with the deathly voids of the eye sockets staring down mercilessly, the Roman soldiers stripped Jesus bare naked and then placed the cross bar that he and Simon had been carrying on the top of the upright, vertical beam. Then a couple of the soldiers lifted Jesus onto the cross. There was a small saddle of wood where they put his buttocks.

         Then the soldiers took some ropes and tied Jesus’ body to the cross, so he would not fall off as they completed their grisly work. It is said that heavy ten-inch spikes were driven into his wrists and into his feet, securing the former to the cross piece and the latter to the bottom of the cross.

         And there Jesus hung in agony – stark naked, shamed to the max.  There the curious watchers and soldiers alike made fun of him – and there was so much to make fun of. The satiric placard nailed at above his head - “King of the Jews” – said it all. 

         After all, here was a man who could no longer control his bodily functions or get rid of the flies that congregated around him. Here was a man with not a shred of honor left. “Save yourself if you are King of the Jews,” the soldiers yelled up to him.  Because there was no way he could get down, Jesus and the two robbers who hung with him could be there for days until they died of exhaustion and suffocation.

         Surely the evidence was in.  As Anglican priest Tim Chesterton noted, “How can a man hanging on a cross be God’s Messiah, the chosen king of God’s people Israel? After all, the generally accepted model for the Messiah was King David, the great warrior king from a thousand years before the time of Christ, the one who defeated the Philistines and established Israel as a great power. During the reign of David Israel finally got some respect from her neighbors! David was ruthless toward his enemies; we’re told that on one occasion he lined up the Moabite men and put to death every third one of them, just to put the fear of Israel into them. On the ‘David’ model, the king’s victories over his enemies are signs that God is with him, but only a false Messiah would be executed by his enemies!”

         Most everyone milling about scorned Jesus and hurled insults at him – even one of the criminals hoisted up next to him.  “Life is pretty tough on Messiahs these days, eh? How about a little miracle, Galilean? Some king of the Jews you are…. Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”

         And through it all – the pain, the mockery, the shame, the catcalls and jeers, the presumption of guilt, of misrepresenting himself as the Chosen One – Jesus said only two things:  “Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” and “I promise you that today you will be in Paradise with me.” 

        Imagine:  The first person Jesus welcomes into God’s Kingdom is the one who feels that he himself deserves capital punishment for his crimes.  How wide is God’s mercy!  How wide is God’s forgiveness!  How wide is God’s love!

         As Biblical scholar Gilberto Ruiz wrote, “Whatever evil or crime one has done is no barrier for acceptance into Jesus’ kingdom. Even those carrying out the crucifixion and the mockeries can be forgiven by Jesus.  And though he responds to the second criminal’s request, Jesus ignores the calls to save himself, because it is through the cross that he comes into his kingdom, where those deemed unrighteous may share in the salvation of the righteous. His reign is not a death-dealing system intent on punishment, but a “paradise” that “today” extends even to those whom we do not think deserve it.”  Jesus’ love always surprises us. 

         And so the cross becomes the symbol of the church.  It lies at the heart of our Christian faith.  More than an instrument of death, more than an instrument of suffering and shame, the cross is a symbol of the power of love.  The cross is a symbol of the inclusiveness and expansiveness of God’s love and of the love we are called to share with one another.

         Jesus chose love.  He always did – even when life was dealing him the worst.  Jesus always chose love.  It is as composer Mark Miller recognizes, “ When it would be easier for him to appease with the powerful religious leaders and Roman backed authorities he chooses love. Even as his friends disappear and the crowds that once shouted “hosanna” turn on him with shouts of “crucify,” he chooses love. Even after betrayal and humiliation, even when he is dying, he chooses love.”

         He chooses a love so powerful that forgiveness is offered to all…even to us…even down through the ages, even today. Forgiveness is offered to each one of you and your family and friends and neighbors and coworkers. All that is left is for you to forgive the ones in your life who need forgiving and to forgive yourself as well.

       Jesus chooses love and, in doing so, also shows us how far God is willing to go to free those caught in the web of injustice, to ensure that the hungry are fed, and the naked are clothed, and the poor are cared for, and the sick are healed – and reminds us that we too are called to birth and nurture justice into a world so in need of it. 

       We always have a choice, you know.  Every day we have a choice.  Do we choose exclusion over inclusion?  Do we choose fear over hope?  Do we choose war over peace?  Do we choose looking the other way over promoting justice?  Do we choose love?

       Everyday we have a choice.  And so on this fourth Sunday of Lent, I challenge you to make this choice a daily spiritual discipline.  After all, it is the challenge of being a 21^st century disciple.  It is the challenge of a faithful life. 

       This week, when you look yourself in the mirror each morning, take a moment to really open your eyes and see who is there and say aloud this affirmation:  “Today I choose love.”