Luke 23:35-43

Chaotic. Tumultuous. Frenetic. Turbulent. Riotous.

These words describe what the scene was like all around Jesus as he hung dying on the cross that day. These words describe what the scene had been like around Jesus since he began his journey into Jerusalem the previous Sunday. The air was thick with tension and emotion. Loyalties shifted by the moment. Expectations that something momentous was about to happen mounted with each passing minute.

That is why the people gathered to watch the state executions take place. It wasn't that they wanted to witness justice being wrought. No, it was this feeling - a feeling that something would happen because of, or maybe in spite of, the actions of the state. No one was really sure what they were waiting for. They just knew it was important to be there.

And so, they gathered around the hill where the three men hung. The people, the rulers, the soldiers, they were all there. Waiting. Watching. Growing anxious. And soon their emotions overcame them.

It began with the rulers.

They had heard all the talk about this Jesus being the long-awaited Messiah - the one chosen by God to re-establish God's kingdom. They had heard all the people praising his ability to heal and even bring people back from the dead. But those stories just didn't match with what they were seeing before them now - a man, beaten, bleeding, and hanging on a cross dying. That's not the picture of a true Messiah. That's a picture of a scam artist!

So they yelled at Jesus: "If you're the Messiah, save yourself!"

It seemed like a simple enough proposition. Granted, it wouldn't be simple for an ordinary person to do what they were demanding. But Jesus was not claiming to be an ordinary person. Nor did Jesus' followers think that he was ordinary.

As the yelling continued, new voices joined in - those of the soldiers. They were officers of the Roman state so they didn't completely understand this term "Messiah," but they did understand the irony of calling a man, who was hanging on a cross, a "King." No king with any amount of power would meet an end like this. So they jokingly toasted Jesus with their sour wine and put a sign above his head that read "King of the Jews."

The commotion grew to such a fevered pitch that even one of the criminals hanging on a cross beside Jesus joined in the fray. He too heard the title of Messiah and expected something different than what he was seeing. Shouldn't the Messiah be more powerful? More commanding? He wanted Jesus to pull out some of his messiah magic and get them all out of this dire situation.

As the clamoring continued and the voices grew louder, the second criminal spoke up. He didn't understand how Jesus could be the Messiah any better than anyone else there, but he did know that Jesus was not guilty of any crime that would warrant his death on this cross. This convinced him that there was something special about Jesus, something that the title "King of the Jews" was actually right about.

He didn't know how it would happen, but he knew that Jesus would come into his kingly power soon. And this criminal wanted Jesus to look favorably on him when that happened. So he cried out, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

These words, this petition, had an effect that none of the taunting, none of the shouting, and none of the name calling had - they moved Jesus to speak: "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise." Jesus knew that the criminal didn't really understand what he was asking for, but Jesus granted his request anyway.

"You will be with me in Paradise." Simple words. But words that carried a world of meaning.

The people of that day understood Paradise to be the place where the righteous dead went before resurrection. No one put to death on a cross for crimes they committed would be seen as righteous. And surely such a one would not be expected to go to Paradise.

By saying these words, Jesus proclaimed that despite his undignified means of death Jesus was still counted as righteous. And not only was he righteous, but he had the power through his relationship with the Father to forgive the sins of others. Jesus would right the wrong that this man had done so that he would no longer be found guilty.

Chaotic. Tumultuous. Frenetic. Turbulent. Riotous. Such was the scene on that day. People were drawn together expecting something miraculous to happen. And it did, though most gathered there did not know it.

Now, here we are, gathered together some two thousand years later. How would we describe this scene. Quiet. Solemn. Contemplative. Maybe even commonplace? Are we expecting anything to happen? Dare we expect something miraculous to occur?

Jesus' words "You will be with me in Paradise" continue to ring out from the cross today. Jesus offers us the same reassurance that he offered the second criminal on that first Good Friday. Jesus' words are words of welcome, words of invitation. He tells us, "Trust that God wants you to join with God in Paradise." Do we expect this promise to be true?

It seems like we would want to say, "Yes." But so often we don't. Because accepting this promise would mean living as forgiven people. People who rise above the shouts and the taunts as the second criminal did to model a different way. People who let go of the familiar worldly ways to embrace the counter-cultural ways of God. People who embody God's radically inclusive love. People who admit their shortcomings and see their need for God's help to face the future. People who pray, "Jesus remember me...."

That's a tall order. It's no wonder that we shy away from fully accepting the forgiveness that Jesus' death and resurrection bring. But Jesus' words reassure us that it is not our efforts, but God's, that make living as forgiven people possible.

As we gather here today in the shadow of the cross, let us gather in expectation. Like the people of Jesus' day, we cannot know exactly what will happen, but the events of the very first Good Friday call us to watch and pray, expecting that God will work in our midst to bring about God's kingdom.

In these quiet moments listen for God's call to live as forgiven people who will be welcomed by God in Paradise. Amen.

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