Luke makes it clear Jesus doesn’t “deserve” the crucifixion. Not only to maintain Jesus’s innocence, but prove the moral corruption of execution.
why “deserve” isn’t a Christian word
Good Friday | Luke 22:39-23:56
We might picture the scene. It is late at night, they have gone into the Garden. The moon and stars blazing at this hour, making the whole place visible.
Jesus wakes the dozing disciples — they can’t even stay awake? This night of all nights. How I wish you had listened.
They begin to stir at his words, but it is the crowd gathering now which rouses them. The crowd…has weapons? They rub their eyes open.
Suddenly they’re surrounded. Militarized guards flank the Temple authorities. Judas, the disciple is with them. Satan had entered his heart on Wednesday, stealing him, turning him. His betrayal would become inevitable. A guilt he never deserved.
He tries to kiss him, but Jesus stops him. This is how you’ll do it? Jesus can hardly believe it. You would turn the kiss of peace into a signal of betrayal?
The bleary-eyed disciples begin to understand, finally. But they’re confused about their role. Do they protect Jesus? Is that what they’re supposed to do? It must be, right?
How are we supposed to know?
Maybe we should ask.
“Lord, should we strike with the sword?”
They have two for the whole band. Jesus told them to go buy them, remember. He said that scripture had to be fulfilled in him.
“And he was counted among the lawless”
So surely they’d have to buy some swords to sell the part. Make them look like raiders. But they already had a couple. So the scripture is already being fulfilled.
And here they are, trying to take Jesus away. Are we supposed to just play the part, or are we to do something?
“Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said, ‘No more of this!’ And he touched his ear and healed him.”
What’s Going On?
Peter’s convinced he’ll protect Jesus. But his part is already cast. He’s to deny him. Then look back. Then protect the others.
Jesus is being tried. Innocent of all charges. Convicted anyway.
Neither Herod nor Pilate want him.
Of course, they’ll flog him. He may be innocent, but we have to punish him. We must beat him and abuse him, but not kill him. We aren’t barbarians.
What kind of insurrectionist tries to overthrow Rome with just two swords and Galilean fishermen? This is ridiculous. Street him.
Now, here’s where the story takes a strange turn.
A small crowd of powerful religious people, not the ones throwing branches and shouting Hosanna on Sunday. Or the crowds hanging on every word at the Temple throughout the week. The ones in charge of the Temple. The ones Rome relies on to keep order in Jerusalem. That crowd. They demand someone else.
Jesus? Kill that guy. Give us a different insurrectionist. Barrabas. If you are going to be releasing terrorists, release him.
Pilate’s confused. But let’s not be too sympathetic or put the blame on someone else. He’s the one who frees a murderer and condemns an innocent man.
He’ll beat him regardless. To be civilized, of course.
Unjust
Let’s not confuse ourselves or justify terrible acts.
Rome killed Jesus. They beat an innocent prisoner in their charge because they could. They humiliated him like they humiliate everyone they crucify. That’s what they do. Mocking, beating brutally. Marching him with his own cross to the place of execution like a child fetching his own switch.
Sanctioned violence to prevent violence.
An idea which has never ever worked in human history and yet we repeat it. Over and over.
We pin all of our sin onto one man. All of that fear and anxiety, anger and frustration. We put it all on the scapegoat. But rather than send it out into the desert to die, we lift him up on a cross or a lynching tree. We bloody and break the body well beyond punishment. It’s a release. All that anger and pride. We want to release it out onto someone.
The anthropological philosopher, Rene Girard describes this as mimetic theory.
We think it’ll work. Every time. We think killing the scapegoat will take away our pain. Or that somehow it deserves what it gets. We throw the interior violence upon the innocent and pummel them with our rage. Like they are responsible for our own actions.
Flush it all away with the scapegoat.
Until it comes right back. It always comes back. Killing Jesus didn’t remove anyone’s sin. Neither did killing Emmett Till.
What Jesus Did
What Jesus did was walk into the town knowing they’d Lynch him. He walked right in.
That Roman authorities killed him isn’t on Jesus at all. He didn’t do anything. He doesn’t deserve death. In fact, nobody deserves death. Death is the hallmark of Satan, the Adversary, the way of the cross and crucifixion. The way of manifest destiny and violence.
The way of death is the stumbling block we place at each other’s feet.
Jesus came to counter the way of death with a way of love.
He entered city like an African American entering a sundown town. He didn’t create the unjust laws or direct his own execution. People chose to kill him because they are afraid to live without hate. They want to protect the way of death. It’s their’s. Tribal identity all the way down.
He entered the gates, encircled by those who wanted him dead, to expose hate and reveal the corrupting character of death.
Jesus then offered them a different way.
And the powerful refused it.
They refused it by enacting the way of death upon him. To teach him a lesson.
Our way
Each year, we remember the crucifixion and we pray upon the cross. And I think every time we need to ask ourselves why. Not only why did Jesus die on the cross, but why we continued to kill people after he did. We shoot and hang and electrocute and gas and bomb and poison.
A few people killed Jesus, but the way of death didn’t end in this scapegoat. It would continue with each new generation. The d
Or we justify our bloodlust through our theology, using theories of satisfaction and retribution. We take the urge to retaliate or scapegoat and slap a coat of Jesus paint on it. Which, of course, has to be red.
We kill and then say God wanted it. Or worse. God had to make us do it. There was no other way. Maybe we didn’t even do it. It could’ve been God the whole time.
So we can wash our hands and walk away.
But the sin of death, like the mythical cat, just comes back. It won’t stay away. No matter how many scapegoats we use.
Before he walked in
Before he walked in, Jesus wept. He wept over Jerusalem. Over how it knows the things that make for peace. But it refuses to see them.
We remember year after year that Jesus didn’t have to die. But that he did die. That he was killed. Human beings killed him to maintain power on earth. Human beings were afraid of his message of love and resistance to human authority.
He taught of love and faith. Along the way, he encouraged people to be generous and share everything they have. To be honest and caring to those they meet.
Jesus gave his followers the power to heal and exorcize the demons which are killing our neighbors. And he empowered them to do this in his name.
He stopped them from stopping those doing the good work even though they weren’t on the same team. And he crossed boundaries to find the people where they are at.
Jesus taught us to eat and drink and celebrate in the middle of the night because a woman finds a lost coin and to get the whole town together when a dead son comes back to life.
And in the end, Jesus shows his disciples what it means to be a true child of God. To walk against the tide, to face death willingly, and to still have enough love in his heart to be merciful to those in the grip of death.
Jesus shows us that “deserve” isn’t a Christian word.
Jesus showed humanity the way of love until his last breath. As our son. Teaching us all.