Mark 14:60-65 * March 4, 2009 * Midweek Lent 2 * Pastor Pagels

In the name of Christ Jesus, dear friends:

As Pastor Leyrer mentioned in his Ash Wednesday sermon last week, the theme of our midweek Lenten devotions this year is "Father, Forgive Them." Those words were printed in big, bold letters on the service folder, but they did not stand alone. Accompanying the theme was a black cross, actually three black crosses, which remind us of the context in which those words were spoken.

Jesus was being led to his death outside the gates of Jerusalem. Eventually the procession reached the top of the hill called Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, where Jesus was crucified. As he was nailed to the cross, Jesus said something unusual, something you would never expect to hear from a condemned criminal. Instead of swearing that he was innocent, instead of protesting to the soldiers that they were making a terrible mistake, Jesus asked his heavenly Father to forgive them, and then he explained why: "For they do not know what they are doing" (Luke 23:34).

The Roman soldiers didn't understand who Jesus was. To them he was just another criminal getting what he deserved. The ignorance of these men stands in sharp contrast with the men in our text for tonight. They knew who Jesus was, and they knew exactly what they were doing. Jesus didn't offer up any special prayers on their behalf. He didn't say much of anything at all, but when he did speak to the person who presided over his trial Jesus spoke with divine authority.

In that courtroom stood two men with two very different agendas. One was the appointed high priest. The other is our great High Priest. One man reasoned that it was better for one man to die than for the whole nation to perish (John 11:49). The other was willing to die so that whoever believes in him will not perish (John 3:16). In one man we see gross abuse of God-given authority. In the other we see great respect for divine authority.

Before we take our seats in the back of the Sanhedrin, there is one other thing we need to know. As we study this text, it is inevitable that we will uncover some things that we would rather keep hidden. Our flaws will be exposed. Our sin will be brought to light. All sin is serious. Every sin needs to be forgiven. And so tonight we begin by asking God for forgiveness. Tonight we begin with this prayer...

FATHER, FORGIVE OUR DESIRE TO DEFY YOUR DIVINE AUTHORITY

It was early, way too early for the Jewish Supreme Court to be in session. But there they were (all 70 of them) in a secret session, not seeking justice, but looking for evidence to put Jesus to death before sundown.

Because Jesus was innocent that proved to be a pretty difficult task. Instead of digging up dirt from Jesus' past, they had to resort to making things up. Some were shouting one thing. Others brought up different trumped up charges. But they couldn't get anything to stick. They couldn't get their stories straight. They couldn't all agree on the same lie.

One half-truth did get some traction when some stood up and said: "We heard him say, 'I will destroy this man-made temple and in three days will build another, not made by man'" (Mark 14:58). But even if Jesus had said that, it still would not have been enough to prove their case. It might have meant that Jesus was a little crazy, but it didn't make him a candidate for crucifixion. It didn't really matter though because even then Jesus' accusers didn't agree.

Finally the high priest Caiaphas had had enough. Since the trial was going nowhere, he decided to interrogate Jesus himself. He stood up and asked Jesus: "Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you" (60)? Maybe he was trying to intimidate Jesus. Maybe he was hoping that Jesus would say something to contradict himself. Whatever Caiaphas was trying to do, it didn't work because Jesus gave him no answer.

Do you find Jesus' silence a little frustrating? There was so much that needed to be said. There was so much that Jesus could have said. He could have explained that when he spoke about tearing down the temple he was talking about his body, and when he was talking about rebuilding it in three days he was talking about his resurrection. He could have refuted every false charge that was brought against him. But instead Jesus said nothing.

He wasn't taking the fifth. He didn't refuse to answer on the grounds that he might incriminate himself. He was just waiting. He was waiting for the right time. He was waiting for the right question, and as soon as it was asked he answered. When Caiaphas asked him: "Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed One" (61)? Jesus responded without hesitation: "I am. And you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven" (62).

By saying, "I am," Jesus was saying, "I am the Son of God. I am the promised Messiah. I am the Lord of heaven and earth." Because Jesus was all of those things, he could have used his divine power to take control of the situation. He could have snapped the chains on his wrists. He could have called twelve legions of angels to his defense. He could have sent directly to hell the men who were hell-bent on destroying him.

But he didn't. Jesus didn't do anything except tell the truth because he understood what was at stake. He knew what had to happen. He knew how it had to happen. Only a few hours before Jesus had asked his Father to take the cup of suffering away from him, but he ended his prayer with these words of humble submission: "Not my will, but yours be done" (Luke 22:42).

It was God's will for Jesus to stand trial. It was God's will for Jesus to suffer and die for the sins of the world. By allowing his enemies to arrest him and ultimately execute him, Jesus showed great respect for his Father's divine authority.

Which is the exact opposite of what we can say about the man on the other side of the bench. Jesus' claim to be the Son of God evoked many different reactions during his ministry. Some bowed down and worshiped him. Some left everything and followed him. Only one man, only the high priest, only Caiaphas, tore his clothes in front of him.

On the outside tearing his priestly robes was a show of righteous indignation that masked what Caiaphas was feeling on the inside. In his heart he was overjoyed, not because he was standing in the presence of his Savior, but because Jesus had just condemned himself with his own testimony.

Jesus claimed to be God. According to Caiaphas it was a clear cut case of blasphemy, and according to the Law of Moses there was only one punishment for blasphemy, death. The high priest was so confident that he declared: "Why do we need any more witnesses? You have heard the blasphemy. What do you think" (63,64)?

With one voice the assembly condemned Jesus to death, but before they sent him off to Pilate they got in a few cheap shots. "Some began to spit at him; they blindfolded him, struck him with their fists, and said, 'Prophesy'" (65)!

Remember that these were the leaders of the people. They were supposed to be the good guys. They were supposed to set the example. Bu they were so angry, they were so blinded by rage that it took everything in their power not to kill Jesus right then and there.

As you stand in the shadows of the Sanhedrin, as you witness this injustice unfold before your eyes, what do you do? Do you let the mob rule? Do you watch as a defenseless man is blindfolded and beaten? Do you allow people to mock Jesus and spit in his face? Or do you step in and stand up for your Savior?

Those are obviously hypothetical questions. It would be impossible to place ourselves in a situation that happened thousands of years ago and thousands of miles away and be able to know what we would do. So let's consider a scenario that isn't so theoretical. Let's imagine a situation that we could find ourselves in today.

Someone you know, maybe it’s a co-worker or a classmate, someone you consider to be your friend is using God’s name in a very inappropriate way. It’s the verbal equivalent of spitting on your Savior, and it bothers you. It bothers you so much that you want to say something. But at the same time you don’t want to strain that relationship. You don’t want to be called “holier than thou.” You don’t want to be accused of judging someone else.

At that moment you find yourself back in the courtroom. You are in the middle of the crowd and you are confronted with a choice: speak up or shut up. What would you do? If you have been in that position before, what did you do? Looking the other way isn’t the same as spitting on Jesus. Passively watching as other people sin isn’t the same as punching Jesus in the face. But it’s just as wrong, and it makes a person just as guilty.

When we fail to point out sin, when we fail to defend our Savior’s name, we aren’t doing anyone any spiritual favors. But even worse than that, we ourselves become guilty. We become guilty of defying our Father’s divine authority. We are essentially telling God: “God, I know what your Word tells me to do, but I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it. I’ll let someone else do it.”

The good news is that someone else has done it. Jesus has done everything we failed to do. He respected the earthly authorities. He obeyed his Father’s divine authority. Even though it would have been much safer for him to say nothing, even though he knew that with his answer he was signing his own death warrant, Jesus stood up and spoke the truth.

Sometimes the truth hurts, but not this truth. This truth is anything but painful to us: Jesus is the Christ. Jesus is the Way and the Truth and the Life. His work is finished. His prayer has been heard. Our prayers have been answered. Our sins are forgiven. Amen.