Picture perfect
Commentary
Object:
We are indebted to the various sorts of artists through the years who have helped us to picture Jesus. A lot of us from a certain generation and background grew up with Warner Sallman paintings hanging in our churches, and those helped to form our picture of Jesus praying in Gethsemane, or perhaps knocking at the door of our hearts. Or perhaps it was some other artist that drew, painted, or sculpted an image of Jesus that became meaningful to you. Or maybe some actor on stage or screen, playing the part of Jesus, has helped you picture him.
Until we see him face-to-face, of course, the best portraits we have of Jesus are the ones painted by the words of the writers of scripture. Now, our native human curiosity wonders about his outward appearance, but the Bible does not give us much help with that. That's just as well, I'm sure, since we tend to fixate too much on the external.
Over against our interest in the external, we recall God's corrective word to Samuel. When that Old Testament man of God was overly concerned with the physical impressiveness of a certain candidate for king, God said to him, "The LORD does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7). And so we are, likewise, encouraged to raise our sights from the mere external to what really matters.
So it is that the three passages we explore together at the beginning of Holy Week are profoundly valuable to us. They combine to paint a marvelous portrait of Jesus. But they do not bother with such trivialities as height and hair color. Rather, Isaiah, Paul, and Luke help us to see more clearly Jesus' heart.
Isaiah 50:4-9a
This word from Isaiah is not likely to be as familiar. Matthew and years of tradition have combined to acquaint our people with the pregnant virgin and Emmanuel of chapter 7. Handel and years of tradition have combined to make the child that is born unto us of chapter 9 and the suffering servant of chapter 53 cherished passages from Isaiah. But no New Testament text or piece of music has fixed these verses from Isaiah 50 so firmly in our people's consciousness. Nevertheless, we embrace this text as messianic, and we read and understand it through the lens of Jesus' ministry and passion.
Once we understand this Isaiah passage as an anticipation of Christ, the various elements take on more meaning for us.
We are struck, for example, by the seeming disconnect between the style and behavior of the speaker on the one hand, and the way he is treated by others on the other hand. The anonymous person who writes in the first-person seems entirely winsome, gentle, and inoffensive. Without explanation, however, we read that he is beaten and tortured. Though his spirit is at the start entirely peaceful, the atmosphere is clearly a combative one at the end.
When we read the gospels, we note that the contours of the story are very much the same. We observe the loving and humble spirit of Jesus, and we wonder how he could elicit such violent opposition. It's hard to connect the dots logically from the Galilean teacher with the children on his knee to the stripped and beaten, sentenced and mocked "criminal." What seems so harmless at the beginning looks so tense and violent toward the end.
The characterization of this anonymous writer as a teacher is certainly consistent with what we see in the gospel accounts of Jesus' ministry. So much of Matthew and Luke are devoted to Jesus' teaching, and some of our fondest and most familiar associations with his ministry come from his teaching. We think of the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount, the good Samaritan and the prodigal son, the parables about fields and vineyards, the instructions about love and forgiveness, and the Lord's Prayer itself. "Teacher," in fact, is a common appellation for Jesus in the gospels (e.g., Matthew 8:19; Mark 10:17; Luke 7:40; John 8:4), as well as a frequent way that others refer to him in the third person (e.g., Matthew 9:11, 17:24; Luke 8:49; John 11:28). Also, we note that it is how Jesus refers to himself from time to time as well (see Matthew 10:24-25; Mark 14:14; John 13:13).
A fascinating detail -- and a commendable attribute -- about this particular teacher is that he himself is marked by a teachable spirit. The "morning by morning" phrase is lovely, for it speaks of freshness and consistency. Furthermore, there is a gentle sweetness to the image of the Lord awakening this person each morning. As intimate as the Lord walking in the garden (Genesis 3:8) or personally burying Moses (Deuteronomy 34:6), such is the up-close-and-personal quality of this relationship. Specifically, the Lord "wakens (his) ear to listen as those who are taught." This too is consistent with what we see in Jesus' ministry, for he deliberately affirms that he only speaks what he hears and learns from the Father (e.g., John 5:19, 8:38, 12:50).
The sweet similarities between this speaker in Isaiah and Jesus himself go on and on. They are so plentiful and meaningful, in fact, that they themselves could be fashioned into a sermon. That is the possibility we will explore in more detail below.
Philippians 2:5-11
All the way back in the Garden of Eden, the serpent led Eve to believe that it was a desirable but prohibited thing to be like God. When she had explained that the rationale for avoiding the one particular tree in the garden was that it would be fatal, the serpent denied it. "You will not die," he insisted, "for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God" (Genesis 3:4b-5). The irony of the serpent's misleading logic, of course, was that it was God's expressed will that Adam and Eve should be like him (see Genesis 1:26-27). The whole proposition that God was making rules in order to keep the human beings from being like him, therefore, was altogether fallacious.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum, here we read an invitation from the apostle Paul. And, contrary to the insinuations of the serpent, it is precisely an invitation to be like God. Specifically, Paul encourages the Philippians to "let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus."
Can we fathom a greater privilege? Can we imagine a higher calling? Before moving into the details of what it looks like to think and live like Jesus, we should spend some moments contemplating the mere concept.
Perhaps you recall the very catchy and effective Gatorade commercial of a decade ago that played on the theme of "Be Like Mike." Surely a generation of basketball fans grew up with that as their fondest dream: to be like Michael Jordan. In truth, of course, very few people begin with the basic equipment to come anywhere near that dream. Yet scripture presents us with this astonishing paradox: that every human being has the basic equipment to become like someone infinitely greater than Michael Jordan. We were made to be like him, and we are invited by Paul to think and to live like him.
Just what does that look like? Well, we see from the magnificent statement that follows in Paul's letter that thinking and living like Jesus is a completely countercultural and counterintuitive mode of operation. To think and live like him, you see, is not to seek one's own interests. He abandoned his place, his status, and his glory. He took on servitude and suffering. He was humble and humiliated. In short, he was motivated entirely and exclusively by love.
Charles Wesley captures this truth well in his masterpiece "And Can It Be." Recalling the voluntary demotion described here by Paul, Wesley writes of Jesus: "He left his Father's throne above (so free, so infinite his grace!), emptied himself of all but love, and bled for Adam's helpless race."1 Surely this is the quintessence of Christlikeness: to empty oneself of all but love. So much the opposite of the individual who is "full of himself," the man or woman who has adopted the mindset of Christ is emptied of self and full of love.
In a world of self-promotion, Christ sets a pace for self-demotion. It is not martyrdom for martyrdom's sake, of course. Rather, it is the self-sacrifice that inevitably comes with truly loving anyone and everyone. It turns out that, while such living swims upstream against the current of this world, it is precisely what God rewards. "Therefore," Paul reports, "God highly exalted him."
Finally, what begins as an exhortation to believers becomes a great Christological affirmation. The character of Jesus' love is revealed in the demotion. But our full understanding of the person and work of Christ is incomplete without this climax. It is not until every knee bows and every tongue confesses that the work is done.
Luke 22:14--23:56
The sheer length of this passage is emblematic of our problem. We have more to preach than we have time. That challenge is partly tied to the lectionary and the liturgical year. More than that, though, it is the happy dilemma of anyone who undertakes to proclaim the gospel.
On the liturgical side, our problem is this. The cross of Christ is at the heart of our message (see 1 Corinthians 1:18), and yet how much time are we afforded to preach it? The services we hold on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday do not seem to be enough. So Palm Sunday becomes Passion Sunday and the notable occasion of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem -- which all four gospel writers report -- is lost from our pulpits.
Beyond the liturgical challenge of giving adequate attention to the cross, there is the larger challenge presented by the good news: namely, that it is too vast to proclaim. Paul speaks along the way of God's "indescribable gift" and "surpassing grace" (2 Corinthians 9:14-15). What human messenger, then, can hope to plumb the depths of the gospel? You and I need never scratch our heads about what to preach -- only how to preach it!
The text at hand takes us from the Last Supper to Gethsemane, through the several inadequate court proceedings, the beatings and mocking, to Golgotha, and finally to the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. It is an eventful 24 hours, and the narrative is full of details that deserve attention from the pulpit. Given the entire text, however, I would take one of two tacks. Either I would unpack the narrative to see what it reveals about Jesus, or I would explore it for the various ways that human beings responded to him. Since the former is our larger theme this week, let us explore the latter here.
So many of Jesus' parables present us with portraits of different kinds of people and different ways of responding to the Lord, to his word, or to his kingdom. We think of the wise and foolish builders, the four different kinds of soil, the three stewards, and the sheep and goats. It is worthwhile, therefore, to explore these real-life examples of the different ways that people responded to Jesus during these most important hours.
Broadly speaking, you might say that there are three categories of people in this passage: those who are for Jesus, those who are against him, and the bystanders. Those who were for him were the men and women who were his followers. Those who were against Jesus were the ones who consciously opposed and conspired against him. The bystanders include a wide range of folks: the soldiers who arrested and beat him, the magistrates to whom he was taken for trial, the Jerusalem crowds, Simon of Cyrene, the soldier at the cross, and the thieves crucified with him.
Those who opposed Jesus are the most straightforward and the least complicated. They may be the least relevant to the people in our pews, apart from whatever cultural applications might be made to those who oppose Jesus today. We must understand that not everyone who mocks or ridicules him is opposed to him. There are many bystanders who give him grief simply because they do not know who he is: "They know not what they do."
The followers of Jesus could almost be divided by gender. While Luke does not carefully track for us their every movement, one senses that the women are far more commendable during these critical hours than the men. The men seem marked by confusion and fear, while the women remain motivated by love throughout.
Finally, two details from Luke's narrative about the different ways people responded to Jesus could become sermons in themselves. First, there is the telling phrase in 22:54 that Peter "was following at a distance." One wonders if that characterization might always precede every denial of him. If only we always followed closely rather than at a distance. Second, in 23:12 Luke reports that Pilate and Herod became friends from that day on, having previously been enemies. It is a poignant truth that, just as devotion to Jesus will bring together unlikely parties, so does opposition to him.
Application
All three of this Sunday's passages bear witness to the same central humility of spirit. That humility is the hallmark of Jesus' incarnation, ministry, and passion. Isaiah paints a picture of it, as the sweet-spirited teacher is unjustifiably opposed and beaten. Paul traces the demotion of it, as the Son of God forfeits heaven in order to take on flesh, servitude, and the cross. Luke reports it, as Jesus submissively endures the conspiracy, injustice, taunting, and torture of Thursday night through Friday afternoon.
Furthermore, the episode from Luke includes not just Jesus' example of humility but also his teaching on the subject. "The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them," he observes to his disciples, "but not so with you." Then he tells them about the upside-down nature of living for him. As it turns out, it is not merely living for him; it is living like him, for "I am among you as one who serves."
Interestingly, for all of the unjust suffering reflected in the selected passages, they are not characterized by a sense of defeat. Quite the opposite. The mistreated man of Isaiah 50 is fearless against his foes, he declares his confidence in God, and he is certain that his adversaries will be overcome in the end. Likewise, Paul's grand statement about Christ looks past his humiliation toward his eternal and universal exaltation. And while the gospel passage does not include Easter morning, we still recognize a calmness and fearlessness in Jesus. He knows in advance what will happen to him and how his followers will fail. He heals one of his apprehenders, he feels no need to defend himself before his judges, and he promises paradise to one of his fellow criminals.
Our three writers are like artists working in different mediums. Isaiah paints in prophecy, Paul in poetry, and Luke in reportage. Yet across three artists, three mediums, and hundreds of years, still their pictures are remarkably similar. We read them all and we can see that they all portray the same man. And he is picture perfect.
Alternative Application
Isaiah 50:4-9a. "I've Seen Him Before." One of our wonderful options for this week is to preach a sermon that will unpack the Isaiah prophecy. As we noted above, this passage does not enjoy the familiarity that Isaiah 7, 9, or 53 may, but in some respects it is superior to those. First, it offers a more comprehensive view of the person and work of Christ (i.e., not merely his birth or his passion). Second, this lection gives us a sense not only for what Jesus did and experienced, but also what he was like. It is a messianic prefiguring with real beauty of insight.
My suggested title for this is a play on words. On the one hand, we may hear how Isaiah describes this anonymous person and say, "Hey, I've seen him before," for we recognize that it is a portrait of Jesus. On the other hand, inasmuch as Isaiah lived and died eight centuries before Jesus' earthly life and ministry, the prophet himself might say, "I've seen him before," for he caught a glimpse of Jesus even before Jesus came.
We noted above a few of the glimpses into the style and experience of Jesus afforded by this prophetic portrait. We saw that he was a teacher and was himself teachable. We sensed a daily and intimate relationship with God. And we observed the strange disconnect between his gentle style and the fierce antagonism of his opponents.
Meanwhile, as we look deeper into the Isaiah passage, we find still more insights into the person and work of Christ. That "I was not rebellious," for example, recalls for us the submissive obedience of Christ in Gethsemane. We are familiar with his prayer that expressed both his own will and his yielding to the Father's will, and we sense that same attitude in the anonymous speaker in Isaiah.
Elsewhere, the language of setting his face like flint brings to mind Luke's own characterization of Jesus having "set his face to go to Jerusalem" (Luke 9:51; also 9:53). Call it determination with a destination and consider what it means. Every indication in the gospels suggests that Jesus knew what awaited him in Jerusalem. On three different occasions, he foretold those developments to his disciples. Remarkably, they seemed caught by surprise by the events when they happened, but our point here is that Jesus was not surprised. He knew they were coming. Indeed, in Gethsemane itself, he knew they were coming for him. Yet he did not turn away. He did not flee or hide. Rather, he "set his face" to go through what was appointed for him.
The spitting, the insults, the beating are all recognizable elements from Christ's passion. Specifically, the expression "I gave my back to those who struck me" not only recalls the scourging recorded in the gospels, it also brings to mind the amazingly voluntary nature of the whole event. While any outside observer would have reckoned Jesus a victim on that occasion, we know from earlier teachings that he was a willing participant. Indeed, it could not have happened to him otherwise (see, for example, Matthew 26:52-54; John 10:14-18).
Finally, we hear in the words from Isaiah the profound expression of trust that was embodied by Jesus. The natural human instinct, we know, is to rail against whatever unjust treatment we receive. We defend ourselves and we answer our accusers; we fight back and we pursue whatever means are available to us in order to seek justice for ourselves. But Jesus demonstrated no need to defend himself or to seek justice for himself. "The Lord helps me," the speaker in Isaiah says, "and I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near." It is the same confidence expressed in the so-called "Psalm of the Cross" (see Psalm 22:24ff). It is precisely what Peter reports about how Christ suffered (1 Peter 2:20-23), which in turn becomes an example for us in our undeserved suffering.
__________
1. Charles Wesley, "And Can It Be," United Methodist Hymnal #363.
Until we see him face-to-face, of course, the best portraits we have of Jesus are the ones painted by the words of the writers of scripture. Now, our native human curiosity wonders about his outward appearance, but the Bible does not give us much help with that. That's just as well, I'm sure, since we tend to fixate too much on the external.
Over against our interest in the external, we recall God's corrective word to Samuel. When that Old Testament man of God was overly concerned with the physical impressiveness of a certain candidate for king, God said to him, "The LORD does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7). And so we are, likewise, encouraged to raise our sights from the mere external to what really matters.
So it is that the three passages we explore together at the beginning of Holy Week are profoundly valuable to us. They combine to paint a marvelous portrait of Jesus. But they do not bother with such trivialities as height and hair color. Rather, Isaiah, Paul, and Luke help us to see more clearly Jesus' heart.
Isaiah 50:4-9a
This word from Isaiah is not likely to be as familiar. Matthew and years of tradition have combined to acquaint our people with the pregnant virgin and Emmanuel of chapter 7. Handel and years of tradition have combined to make the child that is born unto us of chapter 9 and the suffering servant of chapter 53 cherished passages from Isaiah. But no New Testament text or piece of music has fixed these verses from Isaiah 50 so firmly in our people's consciousness. Nevertheless, we embrace this text as messianic, and we read and understand it through the lens of Jesus' ministry and passion.
Once we understand this Isaiah passage as an anticipation of Christ, the various elements take on more meaning for us.
We are struck, for example, by the seeming disconnect between the style and behavior of the speaker on the one hand, and the way he is treated by others on the other hand. The anonymous person who writes in the first-person seems entirely winsome, gentle, and inoffensive. Without explanation, however, we read that he is beaten and tortured. Though his spirit is at the start entirely peaceful, the atmosphere is clearly a combative one at the end.
When we read the gospels, we note that the contours of the story are very much the same. We observe the loving and humble spirit of Jesus, and we wonder how he could elicit such violent opposition. It's hard to connect the dots logically from the Galilean teacher with the children on his knee to the stripped and beaten, sentenced and mocked "criminal." What seems so harmless at the beginning looks so tense and violent toward the end.
The characterization of this anonymous writer as a teacher is certainly consistent with what we see in the gospel accounts of Jesus' ministry. So much of Matthew and Luke are devoted to Jesus' teaching, and some of our fondest and most familiar associations with his ministry come from his teaching. We think of the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount, the good Samaritan and the prodigal son, the parables about fields and vineyards, the instructions about love and forgiveness, and the Lord's Prayer itself. "Teacher," in fact, is a common appellation for Jesus in the gospels (e.g., Matthew 8:19; Mark 10:17; Luke 7:40; John 8:4), as well as a frequent way that others refer to him in the third person (e.g., Matthew 9:11, 17:24; Luke 8:49; John 11:28). Also, we note that it is how Jesus refers to himself from time to time as well (see Matthew 10:24-25; Mark 14:14; John 13:13).
A fascinating detail -- and a commendable attribute -- about this particular teacher is that he himself is marked by a teachable spirit. The "morning by morning" phrase is lovely, for it speaks of freshness and consistency. Furthermore, there is a gentle sweetness to the image of the Lord awakening this person each morning. As intimate as the Lord walking in the garden (Genesis 3:8) or personally burying Moses (Deuteronomy 34:6), such is the up-close-and-personal quality of this relationship. Specifically, the Lord "wakens (his) ear to listen as those who are taught." This too is consistent with what we see in Jesus' ministry, for he deliberately affirms that he only speaks what he hears and learns from the Father (e.g., John 5:19, 8:38, 12:50).
The sweet similarities between this speaker in Isaiah and Jesus himself go on and on. They are so plentiful and meaningful, in fact, that they themselves could be fashioned into a sermon. That is the possibility we will explore in more detail below.
Philippians 2:5-11
All the way back in the Garden of Eden, the serpent led Eve to believe that it was a desirable but prohibited thing to be like God. When she had explained that the rationale for avoiding the one particular tree in the garden was that it would be fatal, the serpent denied it. "You will not die," he insisted, "for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God" (Genesis 3:4b-5). The irony of the serpent's misleading logic, of course, was that it was God's expressed will that Adam and Eve should be like him (see Genesis 1:26-27). The whole proposition that God was making rules in order to keep the human beings from being like him, therefore, was altogether fallacious.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum, here we read an invitation from the apostle Paul. And, contrary to the insinuations of the serpent, it is precisely an invitation to be like God. Specifically, Paul encourages the Philippians to "let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus."
Can we fathom a greater privilege? Can we imagine a higher calling? Before moving into the details of what it looks like to think and live like Jesus, we should spend some moments contemplating the mere concept.
Perhaps you recall the very catchy and effective Gatorade commercial of a decade ago that played on the theme of "Be Like Mike." Surely a generation of basketball fans grew up with that as their fondest dream: to be like Michael Jordan. In truth, of course, very few people begin with the basic equipment to come anywhere near that dream. Yet scripture presents us with this astonishing paradox: that every human being has the basic equipment to become like someone infinitely greater than Michael Jordan. We were made to be like him, and we are invited by Paul to think and to live like him.
Just what does that look like? Well, we see from the magnificent statement that follows in Paul's letter that thinking and living like Jesus is a completely countercultural and counterintuitive mode of operation. To think and live like him, you see, is not to seek one's own interests. He abandoned his place, his status, and his glory. He took on servitude and suffering. He was humble and humiliated. In short, he was motivated entirely and exclusively by love.
Charles Wesley captures this truth well in his masterpiece "And Can It Be." Recalling the voluntary demotion described here by Paul, Wesley writes of Jesus: "He left his Father's throne above (so free, so infinite his grace!), emptied himself of all but love, and bled for Adam's helpless race."1 Surely this is the quintessence of Christlikeness: to empty oneself of all but love. So much the opposite of the individual who is "full of himself," the man or woman who has adopted the mindset of Christ is emptied of self and full of love.
In a world of self-promotion, Christ sets a pace for self-demotion. It is not martyrdom for martyrdom's sake, of course. Rather, it is the self-sacrifice that inevitably comes with truly loving anyone and everyone. It turns out that, while such living swims upstream against the current of this world, it is precisely what God rewards. "Therefore," Paul reports, "God highly exalted him."
Finally, what begins as an exhortation to believers becomes a great Christological affirmation. The character of Jesus' love is revealed in the demotion. But our full understanding of the person and work of Christ is incomplete without this climax. It is not until every knee bows and every tongue confesses that the work is done.
Luke 22:14--23:56
The sheer length of this passage is emblematic of our problem. We have more to preach than we have time. That challenge is partly tied to the lectionary and the liturgical year. More than that, though, it is the happy dilemma of anyone who undertakes to proclaim the gospel.
On the liturgical side, our problem is this. The cross of Christ is at the heart of our message (see 1 Corinthians 1:18), and yet how much time are we afforded to preach it? The services we hold on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday do not seem to be enough. So Palm Sunday becomes Passion Sunday and the notable occasion of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem -- which all four gospel writers report -- is lost from our pulpits.
Beyond the liturgical challenge of giving adequate attention to the cross, there is the larger challenge presented by the good news: namely, that it is too vast to proclaim. Paul speaks along the way of God's "indescribable gift" and "surpassing grace" (2 Corinthians 9:14-15). What human messenger, then, can hope to plumb the depths of the gospel? You and I need never scratch our heads about what to preach -- only how to preach it!
The text at hand takes us from the Last Supper to Gethsemane, through the several inadequate court proceedings, the beatings and mocking, to Golgotha, and finally to the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. It is an eventful 24 hours, and the narrative is full of details that deserve attention from the pulpit. Given the entire text, however, I would take one of two tacks. Either I would unpack the narrative to see what it reveals about Jesus, or I would explore it for the various ways that human beings responded to him. Since the former is our larger theme this week, let us explore the latter here.
So many of Jesus' parables present us with portraits of different kinds of people and different ways of responding to the Lord, to his word, or to his kingdom. We think of the wise and foolish builders, the four different kinds of soil, the three stewards, and the sheep and goats. It is worthwhile, therefore, to explore these real-life examples of the different ways that people responded to Jesus during these most important hours.
Broadly speaking, you might say that there are three categories of people in this passage: those who are for Jesus, those who are against him, and the bystanders. Those who were for him were the men and women who were his followers. Those who were against Jesus were the ones who consciously opposed and conspired against him. The bystanders include a wide range of folks: the soldiers who arrested and beat him, the magistrates to whom he was taken for trial, the Jerusalem crowds, Simon of Cyrene, the soldier at the cross, and the thieves crucified with him.
Those who opposed Jesus are the most straightforward and the least complicated. They may be the least relevant to the people in our pews, apart from whatever cultural applications might be made to those who oppose Jesus today. We must understand that not everyone who mocks or ridicules him is opposed to him. There are many bystanders who give him grief simply because they do not know who he is: "They know not what they do."
The followers of Jesus could almost be divided by gender. While Luke does not carefully track for us their every movement, one senses that the women are far more commendable during these critical hours than the men. The men seem marked by confusion and fear, while the women remain motivated by love throughout.
Finally, two details from Luke's narrative about the different ways people responded to Jesus could become sermons in themselves. First, there is the telling phrase in 22:54 that Peter "was following at a distance." One wonders if that characterization might always precede every denial of him. If only we always followed closely rather than at a distance. Second, in 23:12 Luke reports that Pilate and Herod became friends from that day on, having previously been enemies. It is a poignant truth that, just as devotion to Jesus will bring together unlikely parties, so does opposition to him.
Application
All three of this Sunday's passages bear witness to the same central humility of spirit. That humility is the hallmark of Jesus' incarnation, ministry, and passion. Isaiah paints a picture of it, as the sweet-spirited teacher is unjustifiably opposed and beaten. Paul traces the demotion of it, as the Son of God forfeits heaven in order to take on flesh, servitude, and the cross. Luke reports it, as Jesus submissively endures the conspiracy, injustice, taunting, and torture of Thursday night through Friday afternoon.
Furthermore, the episode from Luke includes not just Jesus' example of humility but also his teaching on the subject. "The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them," he observes to his disciples, "but not so with you." Then he tells them about the upside-down nature of living for him. As it turns out, it is not merely living for him; it is living like him, for "I am among you as one who serves."
Interestingly, for all of the unjust suffering reflected in the selected passages, they are not characterized by a sense of defeat. Quite the opposite. The mistreated man of Isaiah 50 is fearless against his foes, he declares his confidence in God, and he is certain that his adversaries will be overcome in the end. Likewise, Paul's grand statement about Christ looks past his humiliation toward his eternal and universal exaltation. And while the gospel passage does not include Easter morning, we still recognize a calmness and fearlessness in Jesus. He knows in advance what will happen to him and how his followers will fail. He heals one of his apprehenders, he feels no need to defend himself before his judges, and he promises paradise to one of his fellow criminals.
Our three writers are like artists working in different mediums. Isaiah paints in prophecy, Paul in poetry, and Luke in reportage. Yet across three artists, three mediums, and hundreds of years, still their pictures are remarkably similar. We read them all and we can see that they all portray the same man. And he is picture perfect.
Alternative Application
Isaiah 50:4-9a. "I've Seen Him Before." One of our wonderful options for this week is to preach a sermon that will unpack the Isaiah prophecy. As we noted above, this passage does not enjoy the familiarity that Isaiah 7, 9, or 53 may, but in some respects it is superior to those. First, it offers a more comprehensive view of the person and work of Christ (i.e., not merely his birth or his passion). Second, this lection gives us a sense not only for what Jesus did and experienced, but also what he was like. It is a messianic prefiguring with real beauty of insight.
My suggested title for this is a play on words. On the one hand, we may hear how Isaiah describes this anonymous person and say, "Hey, I've seen him before," for we recognize that it is a portrait of Jesus. On the other hand, inasmuch as Isaiah lived and died eight centuries before Jesus' earthly life and ministry, the prophet himself might say, "I've seen him before," for he caught a glimpse of Jesus even before Jesus came.
We noted above a few of the glimpses into the style and experience of Jesus afforded by this prophetic portrait. We saw that he was a teacher and was himself teachable. We sensed a daily and intimate relationship with God. And we observed the strange disconnect between his gentle style and the fierce antagonism of his opponents.
Meanwhile, as we look deeper into the Isaiah passage, we find still more insights into the person and work of Christ. That "I was not rebellious," for example, recalls for us the submissive obedience of Christ in Gethsemane. We are familiar with his prayer that expressed both his own will and his yielding to the Father's will, and we sense that same attitude in the anonymous speaker in Isaiah.
Elsewhere, the language of setting his face like flint brings to mind Luke's own characterization of Jesus having "set his face to go to Jerusalem" (Luke 9:51; also 9:53). Call it determination with a destination and consider what it means. Every indication in the gospels suggests that Jesus knew what awaited him in Jerusalem. On three different occasions, he foretold those developments to his disciples. Remarkably, they seemed caught by surprise by the events when they happened, but our point here is that Jesus was not surprised. He knew they were coming. Indeed, in Gethsemane itself, he knew they were coming for him. Yet he did not turn away. He did not flee or hide. Rather, he "set his face" to go through what was appointed for him.
The spitting, the insults, the beating are all recognizable elements from Christ's passion. Specifically, the expression "I gave my back to those who struck me" not only recalls the scourging recorded in the gospels, it also brings to mind the amazingly voluntary nature of the whole event. While any outside observer would have reckoned Jesus a victim on that occasion, we know from earlier teachings that he was a willing participant. Indeed, it could not have happened to him otherwise (see, for example, Matthew 26:52-54; John 10:14-18).
Finally, we hear in the words from Isaiah the profound expression of trust that was embodied by Jesus. The natural human instinct, we know, is to rail against whatever unjust treatment we receive. We defend ourselves and we answer our accusers; we fight back and we pursue whatever means are available to us in order to seek justice for ourselves. But Jesus demonstrated no need to defend himself or to seek justice for himself. "The Lord helps me," the speaker in Isaiah says, "and I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near." It is the same confidence expressed in the so-called "Psalm of the Cross" (see Psalm 22:24ff). It is precisely what Peter reports about how Christ suffered (1 Peter 2:20-23), which in turn becomes an example for us in our undeserved suffering.
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1. Charles Wesley, "And Can It Be," United Methodist Hymnal #363.
