Paradise Regained
Luke 23:32-43

November 21, 2004

Ironically, when you adopt the three year cycle of Biblical readings known as the Lectionary in order to be exposed to a greater cross section of the Bible, this all so familiar Gospel passage is one that you seldom hear.

Most people worship once per week, usually on a Sunday. But this story about the repentant thief on the other cross is a weekday tale, part of the Passion of Christ, so famously screened earlier this year. For most Christians, it is leap frogged over from Palm Sunday to Easter morning. On the last Sunday of the year, let’s make up for it, and read, listen, and feel.

The reason this passage does find a place is because of the theme of this last Sunday in Pentecost - the Reign of Christ, or in older exclusive language, Christ the King. A whole bunch of king and kingdom comments are made here, both derogatory and expectant. Jesus never talks about being a king; he does talk about being in Paradise.

“I can see paradise by the dashboard lights” is a refrain from a rock and roll song by Meat Loaf - that’s the name of the group. James Michener wrote Adventures in Paradise about the South Pacific. Everybody conjures up a marvelous image when the word is spoken. Given today’s political environment, it is notable that the word is not Hebrew or Aramaic or Greek, but a Persian loan word that stuck. It literally means a garden, a really nice one.

Today you will be with me in Paradise, Jesus promised. For most Christians and Jews, Paradise means the Garden of Eden. John Milton, the 17th century Puritan poet, wrote the epic poem Paradise Lost about the tragedy that took place in Eden between Satan, Adam and Eve. Milton later wrote a much shorter poem, Paradise Regained, in which the hero is Christ triumphing in the wilderness over Satan, resisting where Adam and Eve had given in. The desert had been transformed into a garden of paradise.

When it came time for the end, for the crucifixion, everybody knows about what happened to Jesus. There are even movies depicting it. Luke adds a little note on the side: “Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him.” Luke wanted to make the point that these were not innocent saviours, and that the Romans were not making any distinction between Jesus and common felons. Jesus was in the middle, if that made a difference.

“Father, forgive them because they don’t know what they are doing,” groans Jesus. It’s not that these crucifiers are executing the Son of God, that is not their great gaff. They are cruelly torturing all sorts of people, bad people maybe, good people often, people politically incorrect, and they think they are maintaining justice! No wonder the dreadful place they used for such atrocities of justice was called the Skull, Golgotha, a piece of land made into a desert bereft of humanity.

They, the soldiers most likely, cast lots to divide up his clothing. Gambling - we would never let that happen in the United Church. And the people just stood there watching. But this was not criminal apathy, but that numbness of a people with no power against brutishness. There was nothing they could get away with saying; all they could do was watch.

However, there were leaders, and they could speak. It should make everyone anxious to be a leader not to be so sure of their moral superiority. The leaders led, starting a string of three scoffers and ridiculers of Jesus. None of them ever claimed he was a criminal. You thought you were so big, they taunted, you thought you were the Messiah and could save everyone, but see who has the last word now? Save yourself, you fool!

So the leaders led off, then the soldiers assigned to this gruesome duty got into the derisive spirit, offering him sour wine as well. Then to bring about the most humiliation, one of the other crucified criminals railed at Jesus as well. He kept on spitting at him, Save yourself, save us, for God’s sake!

But the other guy, the lone voice to whom a cruel slow death was giving courage, stopped the abuse. “Don’t you believe in God? We are being executed too and we were convicted of crimes, but this person has done nothing wrong.” It took a criminal being executed to recognize that Jesus had not committed a crime. He could see that all the others were afraid of someone with real power.

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Re-member me. Put me back together. Make me whole out of all my terrible brokenness. The thief knew who he was, and he was not pretending to be someone else.

“Today, you will be with me in Paradise,” replied Jesus. The desert will become a garden. The hell created on earth will become Eden once again. A person broken down and sinful by the onslaught of a violent and unjust world is re-membered, put back together again. And remember, this thief deserved to be crucified by his own admission, but by the undeserved grace of God he is admitted into the fullness of life.

And what is this Paradise? It’s not really a What or even a Where. Paradise is a When. When you know who you are completely and honestly, all of your failings and falsehoods, and all of your capabilities and powers, then you are on the outskirts. When you relate to other people for what and who they really are and you find that you genuinely love them, then you are inside the gates of Eden. When you find that all people are lovable, then who needs to go anywhere else, you are in Paradise. When you encounter another person broken and no longer honest, but all you can see is their beauty, then you are with Jesus today in Paradise.

Henry Mitchell is one of the great teachers and practitioners of black preaching, as well as one of its best historians. He recalls a funeral one day in the South, a funeral for Joe, whom everybody knew did not lead a perfect life. Joe had been caught stealing on a few occasions, and properly punished by the authorities for it. But in that time, many a man was driven to theft by the system of injustice and bigotry in the Jim Crow South. There was no denying that Joe had done something wrong, but Joe was not a mean man. The church that day was full, but the people in the pews were somber. It just wasn’t fair, a number of them whispered around them before the start of the funeral. Sure, he did some things that weren’t right, but what else could he do to keep his family in food? Joe never seemed to get a break, something was always working against him, and then he got sick before his time and the poor man died.

Reverend Smith knew what his people were thinking and he thought the same way. Just how do you celebrate now the life of a man who had so little to celebrate? You couldn’t even say with a straight face that he had lived a straight life.

Best way is to admit who we really are, so Reverend Smith read the story of the two thieves being crucified on either side of Jesus. Then he began to talk about Joe, and he didn’t mince words about Joe’s problems, about all his shortcomings. Joe, however, was on a journey; he was climbing upwards the best way he could. And Joe was a man with a heart like the second thief.

Now Reverend Smith got the congregation worked up, hopeful and excited, and as he kept talking about what Joe had tried to be and what he had hoped to be there were shouts of encouragement from the pews. “Keep going, Joe!” “You can still make it, Joe!”

But even Reverend Smith got discouraged as he relayed Joe’s progress. Joe had gotten to a point on his upward climb where his indiscretions were holding him back. Have you done anything wrong in your life, have you committed evil acts to anyone? And Joe could only answer, yes I have.

Reverend Smith’s voice got slower and heavier. Then, as he was about to give up, Joe ran right into Jesus. Today, you will be with me in Paradise. The gathered faithful exploded in exultation. So Joe got back on the path and Jesus was climbing with him. I can see him now. There he is, on the edge of Eden and Jesus is pulling him in. Joe’s in Paradise today! Actually, no one could hear Reverend Smith say those last words for all the shouting and screaming going on.

I like to think that I am not a thief. Still I know that I have not lived exactly the way I think I should have lived. No matter how perfect you think you’ve been, no matter how successful you have been, you’re about in the same position as that thief on the cross and Joe. That’s good, because at the very moment when you know who you are and are able to love everybody around you no matter what they have been, then you are going to get pulled into Eden, again.

None of this is contingent upon how good you’ve been or really how bad you’ve been. Actually, it’s more like it when you admit how little real good you’ve done and how much more good you are capable of doing.

Hey, we’re at the end of the year and nothing special is happening. Hell hasn’t frozen over and the Riders aren’t in the Grey Cup, so it’s not Paradise yet. But today is not over.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan