“God is still God, even when God Dies” (John
19:1-16, 28-30)
Rob Tennant, Hillside Church, Chapel Hill, NC
Good Friday, April 10, 2020
*This message will be broadcast by Facebook and Instagram Live
and posted to Youtube, but will not be preached to a live audience. We – America, the world – are in the midst of
the COVID-19 crisis which is causing people all over the world to avoid gathering
in groups of larger than 10, and diligently maintain “social distance.” It’s an effort to curb the rapid, worldwide
spread of the Corona virus which can be deadly.
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Watch on You Tube - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Vj2-guwnIw
I’ve been thinking a lot about how
unsettling it is to not be in control. I
remember September 11, 2001. I remember
trying to come to grips with images of commercials airliners flying into
buildings. That morning, I needed to do
something, but there was nothing I could do.
I just got a bicycle and rode around aimlessly.
No control; none then, and it seems,
there’s none now. This coronavirus has
grabbed hold of governments the world over and locked all of us in our
homes. How long? We don’t know. It’s so strange. Different than 9/11, yes, but, in one sense,
I feel as I did that morning. I feel I
am directed by circumstances. What’s
happening in the world determines what I will do next and I have little say in
the matter.
Did Jesus wrestle with feelings of
powerlessness on that fateful day, Good Friday?
He was betrayed, arrested, denied, tried, interrogated more than once,
flogged, forced to march to the site of his execution, and then nailed to the
cross. It’s hard to grasp him going
through so many terrible things. He who
fed thousands with a few loaves and fishes; he whose word calmed stormy seas;
he who restored the sight of a blind man; he who brought Lazarus back from the
dead; how could this happen to him?
We Christians say we believe Jesus
is God. We claim he is the second person
of the Trinity in human flesh. One of
our core confessions is that he is fully man and fully God, a paradox to be
sure, but one we stake our own lives upon it.
OK, but how can God be bound, as Jesus was in Gethsemane
(John18:12)? How can God be slapped like
some second rate, soon-to-be-forgotten political rebel, as Jesus was when
questioned by the high priest (19:22)?
Don’t we understand God to be all-knowing and all-powerful? How, then, can he be paraded around, from
Annas to Caiaphas to Pilate to Golgotha, moved by the whims of others with no
say in the matter? John 19:33, the
soldiers saw that Jesus was dead. Yes,
the Romans were very good at pain and death and when they killed you, you were
dead. But how can God die?
In hauntingly beautiful songs, the
musical Jesus Christ Superstar poses penetrating questions about Jesus. Watch the 1973 version with Carl Anderson in
the role of Judas Iscariot, but be warned.
This musical does not follow the story of Jesus from a Christian
perspective. Instead the characters
challenge Jesus with raw, honest questions.
Peter, watching as Jesus, in chains,
is marched away, plaintively sings to him, “I think you’ve made your point
now. You’ve even gone a bit too far to
get the message home. Before it gets too
frightening, we ought to call a halt. So, could we start again please?”
Then Judas, in the musical’s finale
sings to Jesus as he hangs on the cross, “Did you mean to die like that, was it
a mistake, or, did you know your message it would be a record-breaker?” We can
be appalled at the irreverence throughout the musical, or we can acknowledge
that Mary Magdalene, Peter, Judas, and the rest were probably as oblivious as
the musical depicts them. They didn’t
know how they went from seeing miracles to the arrest to the cross. Just a few days before, Palm Sunday, they
rode the triumphant Jesus train into Jerusalem.
“Hosanna! Blessed is the son of
David, the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” How did it go off the rails so quickly?
But, did it go off the rails?
As early as John 12, religious
leaders fretted that if people kept seeing Jesus as sent from God, rebellion
would be provoked, and Rome would put it down with crushing force. The religious leaders were the anxious ones,
not Jesus.
Then in John 13, Jesus predicts
Judas’s betrayal and Peter’s denial (v.21, 38).
From the last supper to Gethsemane to the interrogations, Jesus is a
step ahead of everyone, even when he’s in custody. Does this story have a script? Is Jesus the only one who saw it ahead of
time? Who’s in control here?
In the garden, the temple’s
deputized toughs come to arrest Jesus.
With their torches, chains, swords, their steaming grunts, and muscles they
stand to intimidate. Jesus stands right
up to them, and he, not they, does the talking.
“Whom are you looking for?” They
answer, “Jesus of Nazareth.” “I am he.”
When he says, this, the whole lot of them falls backward to the ground.
The mob slowly picks up themselves,
dust off, and dumbly stand there. Jesus
says again, “Whom are you looking for?”
With considerably less bravado, they respond, “Um, Jesus of Nazareth.” He then says, “I told you, I am he. So, if you are looking for me, let these men
go” (John 18:4-8). Again, who in this
tragic story demonstrates poise?
Rome was the political power of the
day. Religious leaders, temple
authorities, the puppet King Herod all operated under the shadow Rome. All had to appeal to the governor, Pontius
Pilate. So, Jesus was sent to him.
Pilate is more confused than anyone
else in the story. Jesus tell Pilate his
followers belong to the truth.
Bewildered Pilate asks, what is truth?
Pilate tries to get the crowd to appeal for Jesus’ release. They demand his crucifixion. It seems the holder of power, the mighty
Roman, is more subject to the flow of events than the peasant from Nazareth
before him in chains.
Pilate has Jesus flogged, a fate
that, itself, brought some unfortunate prisoners to death. Jesus survives. Pilate declares him innocent
and tries to hand him back to the religious leaders. They demand that he, their Roman governor,
crucify him. Pilate is afraid (19:8). Powerbrokers always are, always afraid of how
tenuous is their grip on the wheel.
Exasperated, he asks Jesus, “Do you not know that I have power to
release you, and power to crucify you” (v.10)?
Jesus answers, “You would have no
power over me unless it had been given you from above” (v.11a). He doesn’t appear to be overwhelmed or out of
control at all. Improbable as it seems,
Jesus appears to move this story along at the pace he has set. All the actors move at his direction.
Even on the cross, Jesus arranges
things. He notices his female disciples
nearby, including his own mother. With
them is also the man referred to as the beloved disciple. He addresses them both directly, entrusting
the care of his mother to this man.
Without any questions, both accept the arrangement.
Then, Jesus knows the end has
come. No one else knows, but he
does. “I am thirsty” he says, invoking
Psalm 69. They soak a sponge in sour
wine, stick it on a hyssop branch, and put it to his mouth. The Psalm is fulfilled, and Jesus says, “It is
finished,” and gives up his spirit.
Jesus, God in the flesh, is
dead. How could it happen?
How
could it not? Sin brings death. Death cuts us off from God. All of us, every single one, sins. The only way we can be with God is if our
sins are covered. Jesus willingly took
our sins on himself when he allowed himself to be nailed to the cross. He died for my sins and yours. He gave himself up for us.
There’s more to the story, but this
is as far we go tonight. Jesus is dead
on the cross. He’s there on
purpose. It’s sad, but it’s also salvation. We leave worship knowing God loves us enough
to sacrifice himself for us. He loves
the world so much; he gave his only son.
If you believe in him, you will not perish. You will have eternal life.
AMEN
