Lent: The Second Word

photo courtesy of Slices of Life / flier

There were three crosses on Good Friday Most artists only show us Jesus in terrible pain.  But on each side of his cross were two criminals. has third cross was supposed to crucify Barabbas but we know that story. The crowd put Jesus on that cross and let Barabbas go free. 

Standing there listening the crowd heard three words thatcame down from  the crucified. Tradition says Gestus screamed out at Jesus: “If you are the Christ—save yourself and us.” But on Jesus’ left Dismas, He came to Jesus’ defence. “We landed where we were supposed to be. Jesus did nothing.” And then Dismas turned and asked Jesus. “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus said , “Today you shall be with me in paradise.” So two words stand out here. “Remember me” and “Today”. 

Dismas wanted to be remembered. Not take me down. Not even save me. But simply: “Jesus, remember me.” It was as cry perhaps it was a prayer. On sick beds, behind bars, lying in some nursing home—sleeping on a grate one winter day. They all must have prayed like Dismas: “Remember me.”And at one times or another almost all of us utter those words Dismas spoke.

Years ago at Princeton Seminary a whole cadre of preachers came from everywhere hoping to get some infusion after a long year’s work. Who knows while they were there. Scared of the Session back home. Worried about one of their kids or their  arriages. Some brought alcohol with them and others their own personal addictions. Some came really wondering if all this stuff they had been preaching really had anything to do with Jesus. Some felt their faith slipping away. And a musician stood and said:”We’re going to learn a song this morning. You may have heard it. It comes from the Taize movement in France. The song goes like this: “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.” So we began to sing quietly almost like a chant. And then the leader divided us into three groups to sing the words like a round. One group, then another and still another followed. “Jesus remember me.” We sang it over and over that song—that prayer. Jesus remember me.” There were tears in my eyes. Looking around I heard someone sobbing. The whole room seemed to be awash in tears and longing. 

Dismas' words spoke to us that day. And spoke to all those things we thought we had left behind but could not. You don’t have to be on a cross to be desperate. We all know that. Not save me. Not get me lout of this mess. Not don’t let them find out. No. Just the words from that other cross: “Jesus remember me.”

And those standing by hard another word. Jesus spoke: “Today you shall be with me in paradise.” Today is the second word that came from Jesus’ lips. You will be remembered. You have been heard. Today—you shall be with me in paradise.” 

And those gathered, at least some of them must have heard Jesus. “Today.” Today? With all that blood and gore and injustice and heart-break. Someone remembered. This was no mere criminal who had done terrible things. But somebody’s son or mate or father. We all need remembering. And right now, the place where you stand or find yourself nailed s holy ground. Of course you cannot forget the bed sores and the embarrassing words in the paper or the unfairness of your life. Not tomorrow or next week or some time in the future, But today. Right now. Just where you are.

As I thought about this second word it all came back. I was a Pastor and a couple came in one day and said they wanted to talk. As they sat down they were embarrassed and found it hard today anything. And then they poured it out. “Our boy has lived in Louisiana for a long time. And he got sick with AIDS. We knew," they said, " he was gay and we were so worried about him and he called us and wanted to know if he could come home. So many of his friends said their families had turned them away. But he said: “Can I come home?” “Couldn’t work anymore,” they said. “ And what we want to know is, if he decides to come to church—could he come here? Our church would not take him. Why even the friends in our dinner group would not understand.”

And I said, “when he comes home have him come talk to me. I think we would take him. I would hope so.” And he knocked on the door one day and said he wanted to come to our church and maybe join. I told him that Jesus stretched out his arms to everybody. 

He joined. He was there about every Sunday. He didn’t look sick but after a while people knew he was not well. Lost weight. Looked terrrible. So when Bob got so sick he couldn’t come to church anymore I and some of our members would visit him in his parents’ home. They were so devastated. They wouldn’t tell their friends—and they went to another church every Sunday—they didn’t think they would understand. So they kept quiet. But one day they called me and said, “The Doctor came by and said he’s not going make it.”  I brought the Bread and the Cup. And he took them slowly. Painfully. And I also brought my tape recorder and told his Mama and Daddy and Bob—I want to play something. And the recorder began to play: “Jesus remember me…Jesus remember me…Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.” It was a prayer. For Bob. For his broken devastated parents. And for me and those two who had come with me that day.

Is it any wonder that the church wrote down these words. Someone must have known that Jesus’ words were for us all. To be remembered despite who we are or what we have done. To hear Jesus say again: “Today.” Today. Right now. Thanks be to God.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com