SERMON—“Forgiveness at the Crossroads”
There is a story of a dying man and his neighbour who were in deep conflict. The neighbour was hoping to restore the relationship before the old man died. A meeting had been arranged in the dying man’s home to work towards reconciliation. After proceedings had drawn to a close with a cautious handshake, and the neighbour turned to leave the room, the dying man hissed: “You realise that if I get better, this will all be off!”
In today’s part of our series “Lent at the Crossroads” we focus on the theme of forgiveness—and can be thankful that Jesus didn’t have the same attitude of the dying man, as he himself hung dying on the Cross.
We heard last week how Jesus, the sinless, righteous Son of God was innocent. The religious leaders make up the prosecution case as they go along. The Roman Governor Pilate announced three times: “I find no basis for a charge against this man.” Jesus suffered. He was humiliated. His dignity was stripped away with his clothing. He was flogged, beaten and mocked. He was treated as a common criminal in fulfilment of Isaiah 53, numbered with the transgressors’ as he was taken away with two criminals, raised up on a Cross, in public view, right in between them.
But Jesus’ first words from the Cross is a prayer: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
What does Jesus mean: “They know not what they do”? They did know, didn’t they, that they had arranged for Jesus to be betrayed and had made up their justification as they went along. They did know, didn’t they, what they meant when they had cried out “Crucify him!” They did know, didn’t they, when they had struck and slapped and spat and jeered. Surely they knew.
A key principle in common law is that a person who is unaware of the law has no excuse to escape liability. Ignorance won’t overturn the speeding fine no matter how politely we say: “I’m sorry officer, I never knew!” How much more is this true before the eyes of him before whom we must all give account!
Ignorance is not innocence, otherwise, Jesus wouldn’t have prayed: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” The emphasis is not on “They know not” but on “they know not what they do”. They were ignorant of the enormity of their crime. They “knew not” that it was the Lord of glory they were crucifying. It was what Peter had proclaimed in his Pentecost Day sermon (Acts 2): “Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ”…and they were cut to the heart.
Jesus’ ministry, his miracles, exercising mastery over sickness and death, calling Lazarus forth from the tomb, teaching with authority, stilling a storm by mere words so that even the wind and waves obeyed him. Their blindness was inexcusable. The Old Testament prophecies pointed over and over again to Jesus. Even as he was dying on a Cross, numbered with the transgressors, praying for them, and gave up his Spirit to his Father, the Old Testament prophecies are fulfilled, identifying him as the long-awaited Saviour, God’s own Son. Even the demons testified to Jesus’ identity, where the religious leaders failed. In the synagogue—a place where God was to be praised—it is a demon that gave Jesus more glory than the religious leaders, crying out with a loud voice: “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God.” (Luke 4:33-34).
How could they not have known? Here we see the blindness of the human heart. Jesus prays: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
“They know not what they do.” That’s kind of seen in the comments from the others: the rulers who scoffed at Jesus: “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!”; the soldiers who said: “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!”; one of the criminals, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!”
The dying man in his room had said: “Now—if I get better, this will all be off!” What if Jesus had have taken that attitude—and had come down from the Cross to save himself? God’s plan of reconciling a lost and condemned world to him would all be off. We would not know the power of divine forgiveness in our own lives. We would be under the law, and under death, and under the powers of hell.
But Jesus wasn’t in the business of saving himself. He came to suffer and die to save the world; all people—who, in our natural state are at enmity with God like the religious rulers, like the soldiers, like the criminal. He would be obedient, faithful, loyal to his Father to the time he gave up his last breath. So he stayed on the Cross and prayed for God’s forgiveness to reach out to the undeserving; the unholy: the people who had beat Jesus, mocked him, and nailed him to the Cross.
Christ stayed there, arms outstretched, spiked to wood, so that forgiveness would reach out to the undeserving. In Christ forgiveness reaches out to all people—Pilate, the Romans, the Jewish leaders, those jeering at Jesus, the criminals crucified with Jesus…and it reaches out to us, the undeserving, too. Jesus’ prayer was not just spoken for the crowds that were watching him die, but words prayed for people today, too, who, in our natural human condition have darkened hearts and minds, and no natural insight into the profound mystery of God’s salvation. Jesus prays for us too: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Here we see that Jesus practices what he preaches. Notice that Jesus did not personally forgive his enemies. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus taught his disciples: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). Jesus did not exhort his disciples to forgive their enemies, but to “pray” for those who persecuted them. In praying for his enemies even while on the Cross, Jesus set before us a perfect example of how we should treat those who wrong and hate us, and never to regard anyone as beyond the reach of prayer. If Christ prayed for his murderers, then surely, we have encouragement to pray now for the very chief of sinners! Jesus asked his father to forgive the very ones who abused, rejected, and humiliated him. These words from Jesus show us the compassionate heart of God.
In today’s Gospel reading we see and hear that there is no forgiveness without prayer to the Father. Forgiveness ultimately comes from the Father, through the Son. Jesus prays that his Father would release those who he prays for from their sin. That’s what forgiveness literally means: to ‘untie’, ‘dismiss’ or ‘send away’. Our sin entangles us, and causes us to stumble and fall. Remaining yoked in sin is to remain yoked to death and the Devil. We don’t just need nice words to make us feel good. We need to be untied, released, rescued, freed from a dark spiritual reality. We need to be forgiven. That’s what Jesus prays for.
Jesus prays for the Father to forgive the most undeserving, because that is why he gave up his life on the Cross. We too, are called to likewise forgive people who don’t deserve it. That’s the prayer Jesus leads his church in: “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.” We are to forgive others just as God forgives us. But that is so hard! Why is it so hard? It costs so much—it hits our pride, it costs us the opportunity to get even and extract what we think we’re due from those who wrong us. Instead of putting the best construction on things we quickly jump to conclusions and judge our brothers and sisters. By our own reasoning we want to get even, make people pay for how they have hurt us.
Forgiveness is costly. Our Heavenly Father knows—forgiveness cost him his own Son. But the Good News is that although forgiveness is costly—although it even hurts—the forgiveness that God would have us extend to one another is never by our own strength alone. Forgiveness is not an ideal, a concept, a standard. If that’s all forgiveness were, then we would have no hope of measuring up. The Crucifixion of Jesus means that God’s call for us to forgive is not asking us to do something in human strength, but in superhuman strength—supernatural strength; strength from the Holy Spirit who works in us the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.
For forgiveness is at the Crossroads, and the Crossroads intersect with our lives in baptism. In baptism, we were crucified with Christ. We were buried with him in his tomb. But in baptism we share not only in Jesus’ own death, but also his resurrection. Through water and the word God has made us new creations in Christ. We rose from the dead with him. Jesus’ own mighty death and resurrection power is at work within us. By the power of the Holy Spirit God helps us daily drown the old nature, so that a new self should arise to live with God in righteousness and purity forever.
It is only in prayer to the Father, by the power of the Spirit, through the crucified, risen Son, that we
rely on God’s own strength to be our strength, enabling us to forgive those who wrong us. Forgiveness is action—God’s action—the same action he has worked in us, and works through us. It’s his grace having free course among us, washing away the barriers we erect in our hearts, chipping away at the tendrils of the vine of bitterness which grip so tightly. It is his power for a new beginning in us, that, like the neighbour to the dying man, we might seek reconciliation even with those who are most hard-hearted.
It was a criminal who was crucified with Jesus—one of the most underserving of grace—who turned to Jesus with one of the most beautiful expressions of faith in the Passion narrative. He rebuked the other criminal who chastised Jesus and said: “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Both criminals. Both are undeserving of God’s favour. Yet one is righteous—the one who turns to Jesus in faith. His words are a Spirit-inspired confession of his own unworthiness, but also of Jesus’ divine identity and power and authority to bless: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
In theological terms, to ‘remember’ is more than recollect a memory in one’s mind. It is an intentional act of faithfulness. It means to act as one has vowed; to commit oneself to one’s promised actions. An undeserving criminal asks this of Jesus in a Spirit-led confession of faith—faith in a gracious God who went to such lengths to show mercy to undeserving sinners like us that he would pour himself into human flesh and bones in a manger, and pour out his blood on the Cross. He came to share his life and blessing with us to free us—that we might bury our hurts and bitterness in the tomb with Jesus and know the freedom of forgiveness—the power of God that has come to us by water and the word to untie and send away from us all our sin, freed to look upon others as those whom God has remembered with the same favour and kindness that God in Christ has first shown to us. Amen.
