Jesus — Master of Disaster

There are very few places in the gospels where Jesus appears to have lost control — where circumstances seem to guide Jesus rather than the other way around.

The last 24 hours of his life do invite us to entertain such notions, however. He is passed back and forth from one set of violent hands to another, and finally escorted by Roman soldiers to his own crucifixion.

Shall we assume that, in his final hours of life, Jesus was just a wee bit out of the driver's seat, so to speak?

I don't think so. Jesus was in control the whole time.

On one level, it's quite strange that we should think otherwise. During the weeks and months leading up to his death Jesus tried valiantly to clue his disciples in on what was to come — that he would be brutally murdered and yet rise again to life. His disciples didn't have ears to hear his words, but it's hardly the case that Jesus didn't know what he was doing or where he was going. Or what (or whom) was waiting for him in Jerusalem.

But it's one thing to say, "I'm going to throw myself into that swirling, flooded river and then I will drown." It's quite another thing altogether to say, "The currents will swirl me this way, then that way, then other way, and then you'll see a branch brushing by my head about 10 seconds before I go down for the last time."

Most of us don't attribute that much control to Jesus. And it is on this point that I think we sell Jesus just a bit short. We grant that Jesus threw himself into the river, so to speak. But I don't think we understand how much he knew about the river and how it would swirl.

He knew precisely.

Down to the last ripple.

A bit of backdrop first... A few examples of what I' driving at.

• Judas betrays Jesus... but Jesus knew it in advance and, in so many words, told Judas to hurry up and get on with it.

• When soldiers came to take Jesus away... he had already known they were coming.

• When Jesus' disciples desert him, they do so on cue... so much so that Jesus even informs Peter that he would deny association with Jesus three times before the rooster's morning song. (Even stupid roosters fall into line with the plan of God!)

• When Jesus was tried before the Sanhedrin... he was the only person in the room in control of his emotions. His words drove others wild with rage — but not the other way around.

• The Roman governor Pontius Pilate is revealed to be a coward and not much in control... But when he tries to tell Jesus that he (Pilate) is the master of Jesus' fate, Jesus calmly informs him in so many words that it is quite the other way around. (And given that Jesus had intended to die whereas Pontius had hoped to let him live, the fact that Pontius eventually hands Jesus over to death merely confirms who is indeed in control.)

• As Jesus carries his cross to Golgotha, women follow behind him, weeping uncontrollably... and yet like the director presiding over a play that he himself wrote, Jesus turns to his disconsolate audience and warns them that worse is yet to come before the final act concludes.

Yes, Jesus is being carried to his death by angry, powerful men — but on closer inspection it's more than a little obvious that Jesus has himself orchestrated the whole show, end to end.

Jesus was, quite literally, master over the entire disaster.

But this is all backdrop, and familiar stuff to anyone who has read the gospel accounts of Jesus' death.

Here's where things get interesting for me. Suppose I accept that Jesus was "that much" in control. Just suppose. And if he's that much in control... what about a few other things?

For me this line of thought picked up steam at a Good Friday service I attended two days ago. Some readings I received during the service reminded me that a crucified man dies, in the end, of asphyxiation.

On a cross it is easy to breathe air in. Very hard, however, to breathe it back out. One must "stand up" a bit in order to get air out of the lungs. It's not very fun to stand on feet which are bound or nailed to a cross, but a condemned man can do this, with great effort, for quite a while. Even days. (The Romans had truly perfected one of the most awful ways to die.) Eventually, however, the doomed man no longer has the strength to raise himself up enough to breathe out. Starved of new air, he dies for lack of oxygen.

I had heard this before, but a new thought entered my mind on reading this information... Answers to nagging questions I'd been noodling over for years.

The questions arise from these words from John....

John 19:28-30
Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

My two questions were as follows. First, how did Jesus know he was going to die? And second, why did he die so quickly?

And for the first time in my life, I think I have answers to those two questions.

Why did Jesus die so quickly? Because he chose to. Jesus didn't die when he could no longer live. He died when he wanted to. He was in control. He chose to stop lifting his torso and instead lowered his head. And gave up his spirit. That's why he died quickly and that's why he knew when it was going to happen.

These thoughts align well with the verses which follow.

John 19:31-37
Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jewish leaders did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down. The soldiers therefore came and broke the legs of the first man who had been crucified with Jesus, and then those of the other. But when they came to Jesus and found that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water. The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you also may believe. These things happened so that the scripture would be fulfilled: “Not one of his bones will be broken,” and, as another scripture says, “They will look on the one they have pierced.”

Wow! The ancient scriptures God had inspired indicated that Jesus' legs would not be broken. Romans were on their way to break the legs of the convicted men. (Why? Because you can't raise yourself up to breathe if your legs are broken!) But because Jesus chose to die quickly, his legs were never broken.

Master over the disaster.

With these thoughts fresh in my mind, I revisited other assumptions.

"I am thirsty," Jesus had said.

The pleading words of a dying man? Was Jesus begging?

No!

There are four gospels to take into account, which makes things a bit complicated, but it's pretty clear that two drinks were involved in this crucifixion scene. John refers to the second drink, but Mark addresses both. Here's what Mark had to say about the first drink.

Mark 15:23
Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it.

My study Bible informs me that wine mixed with myrrh is essentially a sedative. So let's get this straight. Jesus refused a sedative in fluid form prior to saying he was thirsty.

This is not a beaten soul asking for mercy. His words seem to my eyes now much more like a final flourish, a finishing touch by the director of the play before the curtain falls (or rips in two?) at the end of Act III.

Master over the disaster.

Am I trying too hard to make Jesus a superhero? I don't think so. Even John's word choice invites this interpretation. According to John, Jesus didn't say he was thirsty because he was thirsty (though I'm sure he was). John explicitly notes that Jesus said he was thirsty "so that Scripture would be fulfilled."

So if only for argument's sake let's assume Jesus was this much in control...

Isn't there one last scene we should revisit?

Three gospels note that a man named Simon was made to carry Jesus' cross. In popular imagery it is assumed that Jesus was too exhausted to carry the cross all the way to the hill on which he would later die. I think Mel Gibson's Passion well captures the notion. After having received a bloody scourging and many blows, Jesus was a beaten man in every sense of the word.

Or was he?!?

This Jesus looms larger in my mind the more I reflect on this matter. He was in control everywhere. Refusing sedatives. Predicting the behavior of roosters and men. Was he unable to make it to the hill he would die on?

Perhaps.

But then again, the scriptures offer me a tantalizing second option, and the more I think about it, the more I like it. It fits. I think Jesus was gathering souls to himself. Even hours before his death.

What do I mean? Well note first that all three gospels inform us that it was Simon who carried Jesus' cross for him. Not "some stranger" but rather... Simon.

Simon of Cyrene.

We know where he's from? Yes. And that's not all.

Mark 15:21
A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross.

Simon. From Cyrene. Father of Alexander and Rufus??? Why do we know so much about this man Simon?? The answer is obvious. It's commonly assumed that Simon became a Christian, and his two sons were well-known in the early church.

This much I've heard before. But what strikes me today is that perhaps we should give Jesus a little more credit. Did Jesus really come up short on strength to get to Golgotha with his cross?

Or did Jesus, in perfect timing and perfect theatrics, arrange for a certain man named Simon to carry his cross. Not because Jesus needed Simon. But because Simon needed Jesus.

I am certain in my heart today that it is this latter explanation that makes the most sense. The scriptures don't tell us that Jesus fell flat under his cross. All they tell us is that Simon carried it. How fun (if that were the word for such a serious situation) it would be to see how Jesus pulled it off.

Jesus. Master of the entire disaster. Claiming disciples for his own at the very moment when he seemed finally to have lost his strength to carry on.

Jesus.

Master of the entire disaster.

Why should I be surprised that death had no hold on him either?

So today I raise a toast to the risen lord. Master over every disaster. Even mine.

A toast to Jesus, my King. Who has no less of a grip on my life than he did over his own.

And one more toast.

A toast to crosses thrust upon us. Sometimes horribly unpleasant burdens are well-disguised gifts from the Lord of the Universe.

I don't think Simon ever regretted the cross he bore on that fated day.