Homily on Luke’s Passion, Part V

Homily

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

O dearest Jesus, what must you have experienced when your own people demanded: "Away with this man, and release for us Barabbas"? When to Pilate's desire to release You, they began a raucous chorus of: "Crucify, crucify him!" And when the longer Pilate persisted in trying to free You, the louder grew their demands for Your death? Truly did Your Apostle write: "He came to His own and His own received Him not." As Pilate caved to their demand, he delivered You over to their will. And that will was to destroy You, You who had done so many acts of kindness and love toward our fallen race even before the days of Your flesh, but how much more afterwards.

And Barabbas? Oh, Jesus, we may not pass him by. They demand the son of a father, for so his name runs, be released and You, THE Son of THE heavenly Father, to be slain. Oh, Jesus. A rebel and a murderer was he. A true son of Adam, then. We cannot avoid seeing it: we are Barabbas, are we not? Sons of the man of dust and destined to the dust, rebels in our fightings against Your Father and His will, and murderers not just of one another, but, yes, of You. And You willing tender Your life for our own. You WANT Barabbas to be free. Love divine, all loves excelling.

And Simon unexpectedly getting to carry Your cross. Were you too weak then? Had the beatings of the night before by the soldiers taken their toll? 

The women with their mourning and lamenting. We want to join them. We want to cry out over this terrible thing unfolding before our eyes, but You forbid it. You don't want us to weep for you. You want us to weep for ourselves and our children. You, who set Your face like flint to go to Jerusalem knew exactly what it meant; You, who accepted in the Garden the cup that Your Father poured for You; You want no pity whatsoever for the doing of Your Father's good and gracious will. You want us to weep instead for the judgments that await those who refuse that will, who will be dry wood kindled by the fire. And even as You head into Your passion, Your mind is so filled with the words of the Prophets that Hosea comes tumbling from your lips. How those who shun Your sacrifice will on that Day of Yahweh's glory find no refuge in the earth, no place to hide, no cave deep enough, not though they were buried beneath the mountains. Weep, You tell the daughters of Jerusalem, for that, but not for You. You are moments away from Your glory, from providing the only refuge that will find hide from the true wrath of God. Your most holy cross.

And so the three condemned men arrive at the Skull, the Cranium, for You had comes to deal with death once and for all, had You not? Long before Your prophet Isaiah had foretold how You would be numbered with the transgressors, and so here You are crucified. Nailed to the dry wood and hoisted with them on either side. And as the nails are driven and You are lifted high, You again fulfill holy Isaiah. "He bore the sins of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors." Oh, Jesus, how sweet is that present tense at the end: not just that You did it then, but that Your sacrifice, Your oblation does this for us forever—a never ending plea for mercy before the Throne of Your Father: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

As the soldiers gamble for your garments, Psalm 22 opens before our eyes: They have pierced my hands and feet, I can count all my bones, they stare and gloat over me; they divide my garments among them and for my clothing they cast lots.

And how oblivious those for whom You sacrifice Yourself in such love. "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, His Chosen One." So the rulers, and the soldiers join their mockery with the sour wine: "If You are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" 

Oh, dearest Jesus, how blind we are by nature! How we miss what is right before our eyes! It was to save others that You would not come down from the Tree; it was to save them, and us. You showed Yourself the Christ of God and His chosen One and Israel's king precisely by refusing to save Yourself, so intent were You on saving us and all for whom You prayed. This is love to the end.

When You stood before Pilate and he asked: "Are You the king of the Jews?" You had only answered: "You say so." And indeed he did say so by the inscription he posted above Your sacred head, now wounded: "this is the King of the Jews." 

Oh, dearest Jesus, our Jesus, thank You for letting us dwell here at Your cross this hour. Thank You for opening our eyes in awe by Your Spirit to see Your determination that we be saved and set free, we poor children of Adam, we Barabbases. Thank You for teaching us to sorrow over our sins, but to glory in Your suffering and Your cross as the most joyous and wondrous gift we could ever receive. Thank You for Your sacrifice pleading to the ages for our forgiveness, our salvation. Thank You for being such a King and welcoming us into such a kingdom. 

We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You for by Your holy cross You have redeemed the world. 

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.