The Thief on the Cross

Today Christ followers celebrate the roughly 1,985^th anniversary of Jesus’ death.  Growing up Lutheran, I observed this day more reverently than many people do today, but it was even true in the 70s: we had special chapel services to attend in school and we were all taught to reserve the exclamation “Alleluia!” until Easter morning.  The days of Lent – and especially Good Friday – were somber.  I'm not Lutheran anymore but I do miss some of that ritual from time to time.

By most everyone’s accounts, Jesus was a holy man, an enlightened leader, a prophet of selflessness.  For others of us, he was (and is) our priest before the one true God.  And for a smaller group still, our king.  That he would be executed and endure great pain is a sad, sad thing.  I’d like to spend a little more time this year dwelling on that aspect and be a little less quick to look past Good Friday to Easter.

What Jesus accomplished on the cross has been a source of debate for devout Christians for years. Almost all Christians have seen the crucifixion as the key event in human history, the apex in a long list of ways in which Jesus’ life, ministry, and death mirrored and fulfilled the Old Testament practices and prophecies.  Jesus' was the final sacrifice, the one that rendered the Old Testament sacrifices obsolete, and one made by God on our behalf to redeem us.

How exactly did this redemption work, though?  The answer I learned growing up Lutheran went basically like this:

·         We are sinful, not just in action but also in character (“original sin”)

·         God is perfect and cannot tolerate sin

·         Nevertheless, God loves us

·         However, sin may be removed only by perfect sacrifice, which we can't offer

·         God, in his love for us, sent Jesus to be a perfect sacrifice for us – to pay it once and for all.

·         If we receive this free gift, God will blot out our sin and recognize us as righteous.

I’ve had many questions with this narrative over the years.  How does the imputation of Adam’s sin to my account work?  How does a blood sacrifice cover sin?   Were animal sacrifices in ancient Israel effective to satisfy God’s holy wrath only when that satisfaction was received by individuals cognitively and, if not, what exactly must those of us in the New Covenant understand about Jesus’ sacrifice?

You won’t find answers to those questions here.  If you think you have some good answers, I’m all ears.  I spent roughly the years of 1994 to 1999 searching for those answers, and today they’re simply not vexing.  I receive Jesus' sacrifice as payment for my sin, though I do it now more out of a sense of buying into the teaching and practice, rather than because it all makes perfect sense.  For me, I’m at a spot in life where I’m comfortable recognizing that doctrinal mysteries will always be with us. 

Doctrine and the exercise of reflecting on it remain important to me today.  Lutherans love doctrine and confirmed Lutherans can, on average, articulate why they believe what they believe about Good Friday & Easter as well or better than members of any other Christian denomination on the face of the Earth.  The particular branch of Lutheranism I grew up in was especially concerned about keeping church doctrine pure.  That's not to say that they were only focused on keeping doctrine free of contamination; doctrine's ultimate purpose is personal for Lutherans, but that part does sometimes get lost in practice. 

My own views on the role of doctrine have changed since my Lutheran days.  I now see doctrine as less of a demand and more of a tool, less of a line in the sand and more devotional.  Doctrine as devotion draws us back to the moment when Jesus hung on a cross gasping for air and makes us imagine why he had to endure that.  It pulls us into the hollowness that Mary and John must’ve felt when the soldier plunged the spear between Jesus’ ribs, and they saw not so much as a flinch from his lifeless body - did they sense the theological weight of the moment or were they simply overcome with their own grief?  It causes me to reflect on the despair his disciples might have felt before the resurrection: did we just waste 3 years of our life following a false Messiah?  Reflecting on these moments doctrinally makes me ask “Why, oh God?” and “What does this mean for me?”  Actually, that last question is a pretty good Lutheran response, but you probably have to be Lutheran to get why. 

What does it mean for me, though?  I find myself these days I looking back before the point of Jesus’ death, to the conversation recorded in Luke 23: 39-43.  One of the criminals being executed with Jesus mocked him.  The other one had a totally different response.  The second criminal rebuked the first, pointing out that unlike Jesus, each of them deserved to be punished.  After this he turned to Jesus and said, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus then promised him famously, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

We have no reason to expect that the second criminal knew any doctrine about the “atoning sacrifice” or the guilt of “original sin” or how the gruesome death he was witnessing up close was a sensible means of “propitiating the holy wrath of a righteous God.” Jesus didn’t demand that the criminal first study Luther or Calvin, or that he recite the Apostles’ Creed, or any of that stuff – he couldn’t because none of it existed yet.  The second criminal was simply responding to Jesus: he was turning from his own selfishness to God-centeredness.  He knew he was wrong and God was right and he was appealing to Jesus for mercy.  All Jesus had to do was to look into the man’s heart to see that he desired to leave the profane and enter the holy. 

And that was enough for Jesus to admit him to Paradise.

As I reflect on the events of Good Friday, I'm drawn again to this simple dynamic - one where I reach a personal crisis, a clear sense of the inadequacy of my own works, and respond by turning from the old and appealing confidently to God for mercy to enter the new.  I find Easter hope blooming already in the moments before Jesus died, not just on Sunday morning.  I may never be able to determine which propositions are essential for right belief but, fortunately, I can experience salvation through Jesus without having perfect answers to all of the "what does this mean?" questions.  I can enjoy the free gift of redemption simply by turning my heart faithfully from my inward selfishness toward Jesus.