“Final Words: It is Finished…” 

 John 19:30a, Luke 23:43-47

March 29, 2015

Mark S. Bollwinkel

 

On this day we remember the Jesus' parade into Jerusalem with palm branches waving, children singing and shouts of "Hosanna, son of David."

We also come to the final words from the cross.  Less than a week after his entrance the crowd has turned ugly, calling "crucify him, crucify him!"  Pontus Pilate complies.  The carpenter from Nazareth, deemed a threat to the Roman Empire, is crucified in the crossroads of the capital city as a warning to anyone else thinking of sedition.   To preach that someday peace, justice and love will rule the human heart was revolutionary.  Still is today.  To welcome sinners and saints to the same table was just not done.  Still isn’t today. Power, prestige and greed would have little place in such a world promised in God's future and those invested in the status quo knew it.  They know it still.   And so the Messiah, entering Jerusalem on the back of a colt, to palm branches waving, must die.

After our study and meditation this Lenten season have you memorized "the seven last words?" 

      -Father, forgive them for they don't know what they are doing. (Luke 23:26, 33-34a)

      -Today you will be with me in Paradise. (Luke 23:32, 39-43)

      -Mother, behold your son, son behold your mother. (John 19:25-27)

      -My God, my God why have your forsaken me? (Mark 15:29-36a)

      -I thirst. (John 19:28-29)

And combining the last two this morning, "It is finished....Father, into your hands I commend my spirit."

In these words we discover the complete humanity of Jesus and the transcending love of God.

The gospels Mark and Matthew simply write that Jesus "cries out" as he breathes his last.  In the gospel of Luke and John we hear what he shouts.

Adam Hamilton, author of our Lenten study book Final Words from the Cross (Abingdon 2013) reminds us that "It is finished!" in the original language could be understood as a victory cry, as one who crosses the finish line having completed the race, "It is finished!"

In fifty different passages of the gospels, Jesus explains to his confused disciples that he must suffer and die to fulfill his mission on earth.  That mission is multi-layered with meaning and purpose:

 

      -His death is like a seed which falling off a dying plant will bear much fruit

       (John 12:24)

 

      -His cross will draw all people to God (John 12:32)

      -His death establishes a new covenant between God and humanity as promised
       by the prophets (note: Jeremiah 31:31-34, Luke 20:22)

      -His death is a symbolic act of atonement such as the sacrificial Passover lamb,
       setting us free from death and liberating us from slavery (John 1:36)

 

Pastor Hamilton writes, "The cross is less like math and science than as it is poetry lived out in human flesh," metaphors and images to speak to the heart of God's never ending love (Hamilton, p. 107).  As Jesus dies, he has finished his race, he has done all God called him to do and he can cry triumphant, "It is finished!"

The cross is a central icon of our faith tradition.  It decorates our sanctuaries. We post it in public places as a statement of identity and welcome. We wear it as jewelry, this reminder of public execution and shame.  Ironic isn’t it, that the pivotal moment in humanity’s salvation should be wrapped in such brokenness and pain as a man's death on a cross?

In Luke's gospel, as Jesus dies, he quotes from Psalm 31, v. 5, “… into your hands I commend my spirit.”  In that moment Jesus calls on scripture and God.

Jesus adds the word “father” to his recollection of Psalm 31:5.   Jesus puts a title on his relationship with divinity, as a father to a son.   He did so teaching his disciples to pray, "Our father in heaven, hallowed be your name."  He did so previously on the cross, "Father, forgive them..."  As abandoned as he is while dying, in the end, he is not alone.   He still knows where to turn in that time of desperation.

Because of patriarchy, familial abuse and neglect, the term “father” can be pejorative for some when used in the context of faith.  We don’t want our words to get in the way of someone’s spiritual journey.  Yet, as sensitive as we must be to inclusive language, Jesus calls God by that title.  When the relationship between parent and child is based on love, it can speak to us all about the nature of the God of Jesus.

Consider the story of Andrew as told by Dennis Benson and Stan Steward (The Ministry of the Child, Abingdon, 1979).  Andrew had Downs Syndrome.  He had the body of a 15-year-old but his mind had stopped growing when he was four.  His Dad, Barry, could not accept the fact that Andrew was unable to keep growing.  The disappointment grew and compounded until Barry suffered a nervous breakdown.

Through the help of a therapist, Barry learned that his rejection of Andrew had been a cause of the breakdown.  He was helped to see Andrew as he was and not as Barry wanted him to be.  In this light, Barry found Andrew to be more of a son than the father had ever discovered.

At Andrew’s Sunday school class, one of the teachers made a connection between the rising of the moon and the constantly renewed love of God.  Andrew became enthralled by this idea.  He asked his father if he would sit with him and watch the moonrise one night.

On the next night of the full moon, the whole family sat on the porch facing the east.  As the moon climbed over the edge of the distant hills, Andrew shook with excitement.  Then, as it moved into full view he did something he had never done before.  Andrew reached out and encircled his father with his arms.  Barry was completely taken by surprise.  Tears streamed down his face.  Andrew continued gripping his father.  He spoke in awed tones, “I’ve never seen the moon rise before. Have you Dad?”  Barry was too emotional to reply.

A few minutes passed in silence.  It was as if Andrew’s sense of awe was contagious.  It was as if none of them had ever seen the moon rise before.  When the moon was fully launched into the sky, Andrew announced, “God keeps loving all of us, you know, Dad.”

Children can teach their parents and other adults a lot about healing and hope.  Parents can lay the foundation for the same in their kid’s lives.  That's true of any loving and responsible adult in a child's life not only a parents'.  And, just as Jesus is about to let go of his life, he turns to his father.

Pastor Hamilton in our Lenten study suggests that the recitation of Psalm 31 v. 5 was one of the earliest prayers taught by loving parents to their children.  It wouldn't be a bad one to teach our children as they fall asleep.  It wouldn't be a bad prayer for us to remember as adults whenever we enter a dark time of the soul:

Into your hand I commit my spirit;

you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God.

As we have heard through these final words of Jesus, his sense of abandonment on the cross is complete but it will not be the last word in his death.  That is true for those who follow him as well.   Consider:

Edith Louisa Cavell (1865-1915) was a British nurse. She is celebrated for saving the lives of soldiers from both sides in World War I without distinction and in helping some 200 Allied soldiers escape from German-occupied Belgium, for which she was arrested. She was court-martialed, found guilty of treason and sentenced to death.  Despite international pressure for mercy, she was shot by a German firing squad. Her execution received worldwide condemnation and extensive press coverage.  Her last words were, "Standing, as I do, in the view of God and eternity, I realize that patriotism is not enough.  I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone." The Church of England has set aside an annual day of commemoration in her honor.  Over the years countless Nursing Schools, public schools, streets and memorials have been named in her honor in Great Britain and Belgium. (Wikipedia) Those who took her life and why have long been forgotten but the inspiration of her discipleship, her sacrificial love and service live on.

That's the way it is with a life dedicated to the spiritual practice of discipleship to Jesus.   At worst we might find ourselves in lots of trouble.   The cost, at best, might be inconvenient and counter-cultural.  But in the end of such a life, there won't be any doubt about who we are or why we lived.

On the Good Friday cross Jesus knows where to turn and because of his sacrifice, so do we.   Abandonment, estrangement and forsakenness, as real as they may be, will not have the final word.  In Jesus’ death or in our lives.

Amen.