Mark 15: 33-41

Theme: The Crucifixion

WHY DID HE DIE?

It was a spring morning in Jerusalem. Jerusalem does not have much of a spring. It is cold and wet one half of the year and very hot and very dry the other half. On this April day it was trying to become summer. It was a good time to have a feast in the City. Usually the heavy rains were over and the sun would shine and the sky would be blue and the temperature would be fair.

There were thousands of people in the city to celebrate the Passover, a happy time of remembrance. The streets were full of vendors selling food and drink and clothes, baskets, gold and silver jewelry, and various sorts of souvenirs. There were masses of people in the Holy City spending their money. There were the sophisticated rich in their fine clothes and there were the rural country cousins who were wide eyed at the size and the conditions of big city life.

After six and before nine, a procession started out from the governor's palace lead by a Roman centurion. He was a hard man who disliked these Jews and their feast days, trouble always happened on their feast days. He sat sternly in his saddle and rode with a kind of arrogant determination that would ride over anyone who would get in his way, women, children, cripple and blind. He did not care, these were the dregs of the earth and he hated being there.

As the procession made its way through the narrow streets, it became evident that their holiday would be marred by another crucifixion. There was a man, half carrying, half dragging a heavy wooden cross down a road that would be forever known as the Via Dolorosa, the way of suffering. The man was unrecognizable. His back was like raw hamburger, His face was swollen and his hair was matted with blood. Behind him were two more criminals dragging their crosses. The centurion raised his ruff voice, "come on, get up, we don't have all day" and he cracked his whip. The carpenter fell under the weight, just collapsed on the street. A soldier grabbed a pilgrim from the crowd and demanded that he help the half dead carpenter carry that cross and the man complied. His sons followed him and wondered would the Romans hurt their daddy?

No one seem too concerned about the other two. But the carpenter had a following. There were a number of women trailing behind him crying and calling out to the crowd to do something. Most of the crowd did not know what was happening. The arrest was made in the middle of the night, the arraignment and the illegal trial happened in the early hours of the morning. A verdict had been reached and the victim had been appropriately tortured.

"Don't you know who He is, they cried, Jesus, Jesus of Nazareth." Someone said, "I know Him, he is the one who rased that fellow from Bethany from the dead." And another said "and he healed that blind beggar who sat at the temple gate since I was a little boy. A woman on the side began to cry saying, "He healed my little girl, what could he have done?" There were others, men with two good hands where there had only been one. Some who once walked with a limp or had to be carried on a stretcher. Then, there were those whose minds and souls had been healed by this gentle man who taught and preached and healed. Way in the back of the crowd were a few of his disciples, they hung back, scared, not knowing what to do.

The word began to spread that Jesus of Nazareth was being carried out to Golgotha to be crucified. The mood of the crowd changed, they were festive and now they are somber. They followed the procession to the place just outside of the city gate and watched in horror as the Roman solders stripped him of his clothes and drove big, thick nails through the wrists and feet of Jesus and suspended him between heaven and earth on a cross.

After a while, several pious Pharisees in their perfectly creased robes with their long dangling tassels came with smiles on their faces. A number of the Sadducees came with their blue blood noses stuck high in the air. One of them went over to the centurion and complained about the billboard that carried the charges against the criminal. Why did you have to write, "King of the Jews" on the sign, make it sedition or blasphemy of something but the not the king of the Jews. The centurion snarled and said what is written is written. The Pharisee said to himself, that is the price of getting rid of this trouble maker.

Several of the priests were there and an ugly crowd followed behind them. This was a different crowd from those who followed Jesus in the Street. Some of these were drunk and were carrying skins of wine with them. They were shouting abuses at Jesus. "Come on down and save yourself." Hey healer, you saved others why don't you save yourself? Hey, look at the king, and he is surrounded by his royal court." They were referring to the two thieves who were crucified with him.

And then, there was the pain. No one could describe the pain. No vital organ was damaged, but every nerve was raw and on fire. None of them could breath very well. One of the thieves mocked Jesus like the mob did. But the other one, scolded him and said this man has done nothing wrong. We deserve to die but this man has done no wrong. That thief gathered his strength and said, Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom!" It was one of the few bright moments of this tragedy. Jesus raise up on the cross to catch a breath of air and said to the man, "Truly I say to you, today you shall be with me in Paradise."

About this time, darkness fell on the land. It was not supposed to rain or be cloudy. It was a eerie darkness, unnatural. Jesus opened his eyes and saw the young man John and His own mother and some of the other women: Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the less and Joses and Salome. Jesus took a deep breath and called out through dry, parched lips, John, mother, come here. John stood before Jesus and Jesus said, Woman, behold your son and to John behold you mother, take care of her. John choked with tears and he put his arm around Mary, Mary sobbing and they walked back away from the cross.

It was now the 9th hour, 3:00 PM and suddenly Jesus cried out in a loud Voice, Eloi Eloi, Lama Sabachthani, which means, My God, My God why hast thou forsaken me? These were words of dereliction and abandonment. These were words of abject loneliness. Even when He was in a lonely place He was never alone, The Father was there. But now, even the Father had turned his back on Him. It was as if he bore a terrible price, a terrible punishment, as if the sin of the whole world was laid on His shoulders.

And then Jesus gave one last cry and died. The centurion had been watching the proceedings. He saw the dignity, the darkness and the words of forgiveness. And of all people only he declared and someone heard it, truly this man was the Son of God.

We were all there that day on that ugly hill; the friends of Jesus and his enemies. The church people were there as well as those who never went to church.

The priests were there. The scribes were there and the greedy Sadducees, the proud Pharisees with their golden bells hanging from their robes and their phylacteries wrapped around their arms and forehead. They were there folding their arms in warm approval.

The pious church people who always quote the Bible and who always have a wise cliche to say were there. There were unbelievers there too. The harlots and their customers, the thieves and the murders, they were all their.

Simon of Cyrene and his sons were there and the soldiers. Off at a cowardly distance was Peter and James and the rest of the disciples. They were all there.

When we consider who was there, we know that we were there. We helped to put Christ on that cross, not just the Roman soldier or the Roman governor or the Jewish leaders, we helped. Every one there, every voice that cried out crucify him, every eye that shed a tear, everyone was represented that day on Calvary. Every sin was nailed to that cross, everyone held the spear that pierced his side, everyone wove that crown of thorns that he wore. And pardon, forgiveness, ransom for us all was in that blood that was shed.

Why did he die? He died because of us. We killed him. We killed the Son of God, God become flesh. We killed him, but he willingly died for us.

(Sermon adapted from, Were You There, by Peter Marshall, Preaching Today Tape No. 103)