The Hours Of Lent

Death and burial are not joyful topics, but they are fitting topics for Good Friday. This is the day when we witness again the death and burial of our Lord during another of The Hours Of Lent. In this hour of Lent, we read in Mark 15:42-47 about the actions of a man named Joseph and truly see the reality of Jesus' death. March 21, 2008.

            Where are you going in your life?  I suppose the answer to that depends on your age.  To a high school student the question means, “Where are you going to college?”  For a college student it means, “What’s your major?”  For a college student about to graduate it means, “Where did you find a job?”  For a married couple it means, “What are your plans for housing, for kids?”  For empty nesters it means, “How are you going to spend your retirement days?”  For seniors it means, “What are you going to do if you can’t care for yourself and stay in your home?”  But there’s one answer to the question, “Where are you going in life?” that fits everyone.  Where are we going?  To the cemetery.  Unless we’re blasted to bits in a terrorist attack, your remains and mine will be either in a jar or in a box buried under dirt.  This is not fun to talk about, and it’s not funny.  Death and burial are not joyful topics, but they are fitting topics today because this is not a joyful day.  This is the day when we witness again the death and burial of our Lord during another of The Hours Of LentOn this Good Friday it is entirely fitting that we pause at The Hour of Burial and ponder the reality and finality of Jesus’ death and burial.

            No matter how advanced the warning you receive from an extended or serious illness or from the natural aging process, the news of the death of someone close to you doesn’t seem real.  Therapists and psych experts have analyzed the grieving process, and, although they have some disagreement about the sequence and labels, there is agreement that the grieving process includes several stages.  At first, the grieving person tends to deny the loss – “This isn’t happening to me!” – and may withdraw from his or her usual social contacts.  Next comes anger – “Why is this happening to me?” – The grieving person may be furious at the world for letting it happen or at himself or herself for letting it happen even if nothing could have stopped it, or even at the person who is gone.  Then comes bargaining in which the grieving person tries to make bargains with God, “I promise I’ll be a better person if you take away the loss,” followed by depression – “I don’t care anymore” – in which a person feels numb even though anger and sadness remain underneath.  Finally, there is acceptance when the anger and sadness have tapered off, and the grieving person accepts the reality of the loss and says, “I’m ready to move on.”

            But nothing can make death more real than a cemetery.  When the coffin closes, the reality of death sets in.  And, if you ever stuck around after a graveside committal service to watch the casket lowered into the ground and the dirt plowed back in place on top of it, you sense how real death is.

            In this hour of Lent, all we have to do is follow the actions of a man named Joseph from the village of Ramah to see the reality of Jesus’ death.  First, he asked the Roman governor for the body of Jesus.  If Jesus had simply passed out, he would not have made the request.  Even Pilate wanted to be sure.  Pilate was surprised to hear that he was already dead.  Summoning the centurion, he asked him if Jesus had already died.  When he learned from the centurion that it was so, he gave the body to Joseph.  There are five additional actions by Joseph that add to the certainty and reality of Jesus’ death.  Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb.

            Obviously, we don’t know what was going through Joseph’s mind at the time, but I doubt whether he was thinking, “Well, it had to be.  Either Jesus had to die, or we would eternally.  There had to be a payment for sin.  That’s fair, and God is always fair.  The payment for sin is death.  Who are we to set the rules?  God could have said, ‘The payment for sin is a thousand dollars,’ or ‘The payment for sin is a thirty-minute or thirty-year time out in your room.’  But think of this logically.  The point of his creating humans was for them to enjoy a close connection with him.  We call that connection ‘life.’  Real ‘life’ is not merely being able to inhale and exhale air molecules.  Real ‘life’ is being connected to God and real living is having God provide for you, serve you, take care of you, love you, make sure you’re safe and special, and have all your needs met.  The standard that people have to live up to in order to retain this connection with God is to remain as pure and perfect as God is.  He won’t tolerate second best or best efforts or slight impurities.  He expects purity – one hundred percent.  He expects good behavior – one hundred percent.  He expects pure thoughts and desires – all the time.  Anything short of that ruins his plan, the scenario he owns and set up.  Any deviation, no matter how slight, on the part of a human being, means that person is basically telling God, ‘I’m smarter than you are.  I want to go my way.  I am going to be my own god.’  That’s not just naughty.  That’s insolence.  That’s rebellion.  That’s sin.  And sin has to be paid for in order to order and peace to be restored.  The price is death, the end of life, the end of a connection with God.  The wages of sin is death(Romans 6:23).

            Joseph probably was not thinking of that on Good Friday afternoon, but surely he did later.  The women were probably not thinking about that on Good Friday afternoon, but surely they did later.  When confronted by the reality of death, we can’t help thinking about the reality of the payment for sin.  Either people who have sinned have to pay for their sin with their own death or … well, there is no “or.”  There is no other option.

            Unless, God himself intervenes.  Unless God injects himself into the scene, takes our place, and does the improbable and undeserved.  Unless God himself makes the payment.  Unless God himself dies.  That man who hung on the cross, that Jesus of Nazareth, was not a mere human.  He was and is also God.  That’s what makes his death so valuable.  His death has the worth of all our deaths combined.  That’s why it is essential for us to see the real payment, a real death, and the hour of burial takes us there – to the cemetery and the reality of his death.  As sad as that is, underneath there is rejoicing because Jesus did what we don’t want to do.  He made the payment for my sin, for your sin, for all sin, for all the sins of all people of all time.  This hour of burial shouts to all, “The payment is real!”  The reality of Jesus’ death proclaims exactly what he himself called out from the cross, “The payment is finished!”

            “The End” either pops up or rolls across the screen.  The movie is finished.  If it was really good, you wonder how the story would continue.  In many cases we’re not disappointed to learn that there will be a sequel.  Spiderman 2 and 3.  Superman II, III, and IV.  Star Wars and its many generations.  Indiana Jones returns again and again.  Rambo ad infinitum.  Sometimes the sequels are as good as the original, many times not.  But no matter how clever the plot, no matter how special the effects, every movie ends.

            There had to be one thing and only one thing on Joseph’s mind – Jesus is really dead.  It’s over.  Mark tells us, “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid”.  There had to be one thing and only one thing on their minds – Jesus is really dead.  It’s over.  But was it over?  He had cried out from the cross, “It is finished!” but was he finished?  It certainly looked that way to Joseph and the women.  OK, they planned to come back on Sunday to finish burial preparations because the hour of burial on Good Friday evening did not leave them enough time.  But his death meant the end.  His burial brought a certain finality to it all.  It looked like the end.

            But Jesus provides the sequel.  What looked like the end was not.  The hour of burial brings home the reality of his death, but the reality of the payment for sin did not mean the end of Jesus.  There is a sequel, and the sequel is as good as the original if not better because we’re scripted into both, and the sequel has a much happier plot for us.

            In the original, we were written onto the heart of Jesus.  We died there on that Good Friday cross when our Substitute died for us.  But we were also written on his heart when he burst from the tomb.  His hour of burial looked like the end, but it was not the end.  His hour of burial came to an end, and he came back to life, guaranteeing our life, our real life, our connection with him now and forever.

            The implications are as astounding for us as they were for Joseph.  John tells us that he was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jews(John 19:38).  As a prominent member of the Council he had to watch his step.  Luke tells us that he had not consented to the action of the Council(Luke 23:51) against Jesus, but perhaps he simply absented himself or was silent during their meeting.  But he was silent no more.  Faith concealed was now faith revealed, not just during this hour of burial but most assuredly after Jesus rose from the dead.  While we don’t hear about Joseph after the resurrection, I’m sure he let everyone know, “The burial of Jesus brought home the reality of death as the payment for sin, but his death is not the end.  He lives and so will I!”

            Here is our Good Friday legacy in this hour of Lent.  When people ask, “Where were you this noon?” tell them, “I came face to face with the reality of my sins and the reality of the payment Jesus made for me and for you, and I grabbed on to more certainty that my death will not be the end for me.”

            When someone we know well and care about very much dies, Christians go through the grieving process just like everyone else.  That doesn’t mean you are bad or weak.  It just means you’re human.  But you and I know what Jesus did on Good Friday and what the hour of burial means.  As somber as it is, Good Friday is also a joyful day.  It is not the end.  Jesus’ burial means the payment is real and done, so our relationship with God is not done.  Our burial will simply show that we’ve moved on, like the “sold” sign in front of a house when you’ve moved from a two bedroom bungalow to a mansion, all paid for by someone else.  On this Good Friday we rejoice.  Because Jesus’ burial was not the end, ours won’t be either.   Amen.

Preached at Grace Lutheran Church, Milwaukee, WI (http://www.gracedowntown.org/) on March 21, 2008

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