THE CROSS SPEAKS OF HOPE

In the Crucifixion of Jesus on the Cross there is so much that is bitter and discouraging, and yet a central message of the Cross is one of hope. It is hope not in some shallow belief that things will be brighter tomorrow. It is the affirmation that behind defeat and tragedy, God’s providence is sure, his ruling hand unshaken. We, of course, look back at the Cross from the vantage point of Easter. We know what happened three days later. The disciples, and those about the Cross, had no such knowledge. They could see only stark tragedy, the end of an era of hope, the failure of an experiment. “But we had hoped,” one of them blurted out, “that he was the one to redeem Israel.” How could you be hopeful when the dead body of the one in whom you had trusted was wrapped up and laid to rest in a rock tomb? How could you be hopeful when the band of his followers broke up the minute he was arrested and ran away like frightened rabbits? If ever a movement had flopped, this was it!

It was not only the immediate followers of Jesus who had lost hope. There were others. There were people who had wanted to hear his words. There were people who wanted to be healed. There were people who wanted a leader who would help them to stand up against the religious and political status quo. There were people who wanted a cause to which they could give themselves. There were people who wanted some hope in a hopeless world. They all had wanted to be in touch with this man Jesus, but now it was too late. A good many of them, I suppose, were on the fringe of the crowd. They may have hoped a little at first. Their hearts might have skipped a beat when someone called out, “If you are the Son of God, come down from the Cross.” They may have pressed forward when someone suggested that he call down a legion of angels to s weep in and win the day, but nothing like that happened.

Hope is always hidden, always unseen. It was certainly so on that grim Friday afternoon, but there was one incident during those three hours which evidenced that hope was not dead, but was pressing to break through into human life as it had never before broken through. That was the interchange between Jesus and the two thieves who were crucified with him. Crucifying all three together may have been done merely to get this dread business of execution over in one afternoon, or it may have been done to humiliate Jesus the more. He had been known as a friend of publicans and sinners. “Let him be executed with two of his kind!”

We do not know what crimes these fellow victims of our Lord had committed. The New Testament simply calls them “malefactors” or “evil doers.” The implication is that they were hardened criminals, men who had lived lives of violence and crime, and were now coming to a violent end. The one thief picks up the taunts of the crowd and cries out to Jesus, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” The other malefactor reacts in a surprisingly different way. He says, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong..” Turning to Jesus, he asks, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And then Jesus gives him that wonderful promise: “Truly I tell you today you will be with me in Paradise.” We should not, I think, be too hard on the first malefactor. His response is typical of one whose whole reaction to life has been to strike out in violence against every one and everything - perhaps giving back only that which he had received. On the other hand, we do not know, either, what made the second thief react as he did. Presumably he had led as much a life of crime as the first man. Perhaps he had been impressed with Jesus. Perhaps he saw in him all that he had sought at an earlier age, but had utterly betrayed and lost. Perhaps in the clarity of approaching death he alone of those about the Cross saw through to the true nature of Jesus. His request, certainly, would make no sense apart from a realization that this dying one on the central cross was the one who could grant that request.

The two malefactors exemplify two human reactions to that which is good and holy. Some people, like the first thief, scoff and sneer and say, “It can’t be as good as it seems.” They insulate themselves against goodness. They seek to de bunk everything and to lead others to the same abyss in which they flounder. Others, like the second malefactor, react to goodness and holiness with praise and humility. They do not scoff or debunk, but seek to share in whatever goodness and holiness they perceive. The first type of person strives so desperately to keep up his front that he cuts himself off from everyone from every hope. The second type of person looks realistically at his own self, and opens his life to infinite possibilities, infinite hope.

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” This amazing promise raises two large questions. The first is whether this thief deserves such a pledge, a pledge so great that one saint has written that next to being Christ himself, she would wish to be this dying thief. Does he deserve to get off this easily. Does one hour of faith cancel out a lifetime of crime? From a strictly human standpoint, this is a dreadful injustice. From the divine standpoint, it is the fulfillment of God’s love. Of course the thief does not deserve to be with Christ in Paradise, but do any of us? This promise to the thief is the culmination of our Lord’s teaching about God’s love. In a hundred ways he told people that they could not win their salvation. His judgement was sharpest, not against the out and out evil doers, but against the Pharisees, against those who counted their good deeds like capitol stock in the corporation of Heaven. If God were a bookkeeping God, weighing the good and the bad, the evil and the holy, who of us would be out of the red? It is only God who strikes the balance. When it comes to Paradise, salvation, we are nearer to the penitent thief than we think. We must all trust God for our salvation, whether it be in our youth, or in the hour of our death. Does this make light of sin or excuse our carelessness? No! Rather, it calls us to live in continual gratitude and love for what we have freely received.

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” The second large question that this promise raises is this: “Was it in his power to make such a promise?” Many of us have had the experience of having someone assure us, “O yes, I can get you in to meet him.” or “I can get you a front row seat.” or “I can get it for you at cost.” only to find that he has no such authority or power. But look at this claim, a claim to control the very gates of Paradise, the way to eternal life! We are left with only two possibilities: that this man is a hoax, or he that he embodies the unique power of God..

As appealing as it may be to see Jesus only as a very good man or a great prophet, this promise of Jesus to the thief makes it hard to hold such a view. Jesus lived up to each promise, each claim he made in his earthly life . He could not be false in the hour of his death, especially when to be make a false promise to this suffering being would be a great act of cruelty. Far from being a braggart, Jesus was the epitome of humility. On the night of his betrayal he washed his disciples’ feet. He would not have them speak of his good works of healing. People saw him as the “Suffering Servant” described so eloquently by the prophet Isaiah: “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief...he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Does he have the power to make this promise? The dying thief knew that he did, and two thousand years of Christian women and men have born witness that he does, affirming him as their Lord and their Savior, the source of hope in this world and in the world to come.