Luke 23:44-49
44 It was now about noon, and darkness
came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light
failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with
a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said
this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what had taken place, he
praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.” 48 And when all the
crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they
returned home, beating their breasts. 49 But all his acquaintances, including
the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching
these things.
My son told me last night
about a video he had seen on the
social media site, Vine.
It was a tribute to the death and
resurrection of Jesus,
which he found to be very moving.
He had planned to leave a message for
the maker of the video
to tell him what a great job he had
done.
“But Mom,” he said.
“You wouldn’t believe all the horrible
messages on there.
There had to be something like six
hundred responses
and none of them were good.
I couldn’t believe it.”
When the crowds who had gathered there for
this spectacle saw what had taken place,
they returned home, beating their breasts.
At
first I thought it would have been worse
had
Jesus died in the twenty-first century,
with
all the self-styled paparazzi
who
can’t wait three minutes to post their latest experience
or
hammer down to critique someone else’s.
“Here
I am at Golgotha. Selfie!”
These
days we have more ways at our disposal
to
make public idiots of ourselves,
but idiocy
doesn’t require social media.
Can’t
you just hear the crowds that were gathered
on
their way home that day?
Can’t
you just imagine what some of them were saying?
“Wasn’t
that just the worst thing? What’s for dinner?”
“That
was so awful I couldn’t look away.
So
what is there to do now?”
“I
would have gotten closer,
but
all those people pushed their way in front of me.”
When
the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place,
they
returned home, beating their breasts.
For
some, who were gawkers, it was a real sight to see.
A
reality crucifixion.
Something
to tell the grandkids about.
But
there were others, who were watchers,
who
were witnesses,
who
saw something else.
But
all his acquaintances,
including
the women who had followed him from Galilee,
stood
at a distance, watching these things.
To
those who didn’t know him,
it
was just another Vine to gawk at,
just
another video to criticize,
a
diversion to take their minds off
what
they needed to be thinking about.
It
was something terrible that happened
to
some guy and two other criminals –
but
since it didn’t happen to me or to someone I know,
I
don’t have to think about it.
But
all his acquaintances,
including
the women who had followed him from Galilee,
stood
at a distance, watching these things.
They
had watched him in life,
they
had ministered at his side,
and
they witnessed his awful death
with
no assurance of resurrection.
In
life, and in death,
Jesus
had to deal with a certain number
of
gawkers and gossipers –
those
who felt they had more to lose in what he offered
than
they could ever stand to gain.
And
as you know,
in
every life there’s no shortage of those who gawk and gossip.
Far
smaller is the number of those
who
watch and witness and wait,
who
testify even to the most awful truth
with
their presence.
Those
who didn’t know who Jesus was,
in
any sense of it,
went
home talking about the awful death they had seen happen
before
setting the awfulness aside as fast as they could
and waiting
for the next awful, gossip-worthy event
to
come along.
But
all his acquaintances,
including
the women who had followed him from Galilee,
stood at a distance,
watching these things.
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