But this has always been so. It is not unique to this time or this place. In every century, men, women and children have fought and died for property, liberty, life and especially their faith.
In no cultural history is this more true than for God's chosen people. They have been targeted through the millennia in a way no other people of faith have ever had to endure. It is easy to understand how, from this long tradition of violence, ostracism and hatred, there came a hope, a belief, a dominant theme of earthly rescue, salvation, and rectification. God's people were waiting for their promised Messiah, the King who would come and reign in victory over their oppressors. They were not looking for a baby in a manger, much less a carpenter's son to die on a cross. They were expecting glorification, not transformation.
It is not difficult, when you look at the context of the times they lived in, to understand the skepticism, the outright rejection of Jesus as Messiah, Savior of the world. He was, from birth, an unimportant man. He had little in the way of resources, an itinerant teacher who hung out with the chaff of society. He uplifted the outcasts while castigating the religious authorities who, in many ways, protected their people from the worst excesses of their overlords, the governors of the Holy Roman Empire. The rules were stringent, and disobedience was not tolerated. Insurrection was dangerous, not just to the protester, but to their family, and the whole community.
In this tightly controlled society, Jesus was an outlier, a constant irritant to the religious leaders. His preaching opened up dangerous new ideas and he encouraged people to act in ways which deviated from the norm. He worked miracles on the Sabbath, he preached against Mosaic law and he collected followers who hung on his every word. The crowds were growing everywhere he went, and it was becoming impossible to contain him. He was a threat to the whole region, and the religious leaders wanted him to go away.
What was this radical message that frightened the religious hierarchy into action? He preached love for others. He taught that God is directly accessible. He healed and listened and embraced those who lived on the fringe. He welcomed the sinner, because that is who he came to save.
During the whole of the Holy Week of the Passion, Jesus was inexorably moving towards the cross. He knew where he was going, he knew how the week would end, he understood his fate, and he was prepared, as best he could be, for the trials that were about to come to him. When, at last, he hung on the cross between two common criminals, jeered at, thirsty, exhausted, and in pain, his first words, spoken directly to God, were of love and forgiveness.
In Luke 23:34 we read,
"Father forgive them for they do not know what they are doing." (NIV)He was motivated, not by hatred, but by compassion. Despite the torture he was enduring, he had no room for anger. He recognized that the people who surrounded him, people at their worst, had no understanding of who he truly was or why he was there. And he was moved to extend his grace, even in the midst of his torment, because his message was, from the very beginning, one of unconditional love.
Today I am grateful to be the recipient of God's unconditional love. It is boundless, infinite and ever present, even in the depths of despair. Human spirit may fail, but God's love will be there through all eternity. God's vision for us is unbounded by the limitations of our human understanding. The first words of Jesus from the cross give us assurance of his endless and unconditional love.
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