Practical Proverbial, from Mark, 16 March 2016

They brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means “the place of the skull”). Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. And they crucified him. Mark 15, verses 22-24.

Sometimes the Bible is overly dramatic. Sometimes the verses are so descriptive that it’s almost too much, almost melodramatic, like watching a Cecil B. DeMille movie.  The imagery ‘goes there,’ doesn’t leave much to the imagination.   Worldwide flood, ten plagues, talking donkey, humiliating the prophets of Baal, Philip disappearing from the eunuch, the Revelation:   name all you want, they’re sometimes a lot to swallow because, in some ways, it seems over the top.

And sometimes, as in verse 24, it’s powerfully under-played.   Consider these for words:  “and they crucified him.”   Consider those words closely because everything you know, everything on this planet, hinges on the powerful understatement they convey.

There is no salvation without the crucifixion.   You’re eternally dead in your sins, and the holy triune God of eternity doesn’t know you, can’t acknowledge you, hates your sin, and damns you forever.   There is no forgiveness, there is no happiness, there is no satisfaction, there is no love without Jesus dying on that horrible cross.   What’s more, everything you know about the world is changed.  There is no western culture without the crucifixion.   There is no church, no Protestant Reformation, no brilliant Renaissance, no Enlightenment ideals, no Declaration of Independence, no industrial revolution and western prosperity, no Western laws and traditions that support the rights of man.   Everything we know politically, economically, militarily, socially, culturally, artistically, ecclesiastically, and even physically changes, morphs into something unrecognizable, without Jesus’ death on the cross.

“And they crucified him.”   Four pretty powerful words, don’t you think?

“Oh come on, Dave.   Now you’re the one being overly dramatic!”   Really?   The crucifixion is the central event in human history; we measure culture, law and most of our activities today from it.   The events that descended from it permanently dispersed ancient Judaism, brought about the demise of the Roman Empire that crucified Him, and inspired the rise of the Western society that recognizes Him.  The systems of justice, economy and society on all seven continents are measured against the life and legacy of Jesus, culminating in His selfless sacrifice of Himself.  Everything we judge to be decent and pure, we do so because of what we know of Jesus Christ.

And in just four words, Mark describes what humanity did to its creator.   “And they crucified him,” as if is the subdued ending to a vast saga, which it was.   Those simple words are the four-word coda on the music of our soul, as if a great fugue had concluded with a still whimper, then dying notes fading into silence.

Consider the agony of being crucified, of being tortured for hours, dragged through the street in humiliation, subjected to persecution no innocent man should conceive, then having thick spikes driven repeatedly through your body. On the cross, you don’t die of blood loss, you die agonizing in asphyxiation:  you heave your body up on the spikes holding your feet to the cross, gasping just to draw a breath.  And that’s what’s up ahead.

And it changed everything.   The Romans, Jewish priests, and bystanders there at Calvary didn’t know that “and they crucified him” would soon come to mean “and it changed everything.”

It’s not a four-word coda:   it’s a symphony..

Lord Jesus, thank You for being crucified so that my soul wouldn’t be.   Thank You for doing what I can’t.   Thank You for the cross.

Read Mark 15, verses 16-47.

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Practical Proverbial, from Mark, 29 February 2016

The high priest tore his clothes. “Why do we need any more witnesses?” he asked. “You have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?” They all condemned him as worthy of death. Then some began to spit at him; they blindfolded him, struck him with their fists, and said, “Prophesy!” And the guards took him and beat him. Mark 14, verses 63-65.

Would we do any different?   Put yourself in the place of the priests. They were conflicted in many ways.   Their conventional wisdom was threatened.   The balance of power in both their religious and political worlds was in danger.   Their popularity was in question.   Their senses of right and wrong were askew.   And their history demanded that they do exactly what they were doing.

Huh?

Yep.   Everything they had ever learned or believed as devout high priests of the temple of the Most High God demanded their indignant response now that this Galilean rabbi was calling Himself I AM. They had been trained since boyhood that the Messiah would come and that he would fit in a certain mold.   He wouldn’t be from Nazareth (even though Jesus was born in Bethlehem).   He wouldn’t challenge their place.   He would restore the political standing and economic prosperity that the nation had known under King Solomon.

This Jesus of Nazareth didn’t quite measure up. Then He sealed His fate by insisting He was God, that He was indeed the Messiah who had been promised since the days of Adam and Eve.  Should it surprise us that they were genuinely angry enough to demand Jesus’ execution.   Is that an over-reaction?

Again, consider their day and time.   They lived as an occupied nation under the rule of a brutal conqueror.   Rome didn’t just march in and set up voting stations.   They conquered Judea, executed all who opposed them, and enslaved the conquered Judeans.   Any freedoms that the Israelites had known before were eliminated.   Instead of living as God’s chosen people under the rule of Israelite political leaders, the citizens of Judea lived as people under the rule of a Roman dictator. The dictator emperor’s representative was a military governor who was empowered to do anything he pleased to keep order and, more importantly, to extract treasure (think “taxes”) from the Jewish occupants of this new province. Your home could be seized, you could be arrested without notice, you could be executed for things we would take for granted.   This is what it meant to live under Roman occupation.   To make the point, thousands of soldiers were sent to be at the governor’s disposal as he carried out the emperor’s will.

Over time, the high priests had worked out delicate arrangements on how to keep the peace with their Roman overseers.   Call them politicians or patriots:   the leaders of the Temple still did what they could to preserve the old Jewish order with as little bloodshed as possible. Now came this wandering preacher from Nazareth who was upending the delicate apple cart that the Jewish leaders had constructed.   He did it while preaching simultaneous Godly peace and civil insurrection of the soul. Should it surprise us that the priests wanted Jesus dead if they could find a plausible way to kill Him?

I’m not saying we should feel sorry for Caiaphas or the others, though maybe that wouldn’t be out of hand.   But perhaps we should genuinely consider their predicament to understand more why they did what they did.

Lord, forgive them for they know not what they do.

Read Mark 14, verses 53-65.