Luke 23:47
When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.”
We gather now around the climax of Luke’s narrative. And as is typical of this moment in grand stories, each sentence, each detail, has meaning. So also here. For immediately after the tearing of the Temple curtain, a centurion praises God and declares Jesus’ innocence.
Jesus’ innocence and righteousness has been a theme of Luke’s from the beginning. More than any other Evangelist, Luke has stressed Jesus’ obedience to, and righteousness before, the law. So Mary and Joseph name their child in accordance with the law and have him brought to the Temple for purification according to the law. Similarly, Jesus again and again honors the law and, indeed, fulfills not only the letter but also the spirit of the law. Finally, no just charge can be brought against him. Pilate himself declares him innocent.
And now, at the very end, one who was directly responsible for putting Jesus to death again confirms – actually declares – Jesus’ innocence.
We have no way of knowing what moved this professional killer to offer this testimony. We know nothing about his background, his experience, what he may or may not have heard about Jesus prior to this encounter. And we have no details beyond those Luke supplies to imagine what prompts this confession. We only know that at the sight of Jesus commending his life to into his Father’s hands, the centurion praises God and joins the chorus of others in declaring Jesus’ righteousness and innocence.
Which should, I think, tell us something. For here is one who is a part of the established order and rule of the world who, in confessing Jesus’ innocence, also confesses the corruption and brokenness of the order he serves. For if an innocent man is sentenced to death, then the system that sentenced him cannot be innocent.
Which is, perhaps, part of the meaning, or at least the outcome, of Jesus’ death. He does not die to appease God’s wrath or make God loving – as if God is the object of his death. Rather, he dies to betray the lie of the world order we have grasped so firmly. We, that is, are the object of his death.
He dies, in other words, to show us that the life we have been offered by the world is a fraud, that the life to which we cling is counterfeit. He dies, and in dying an innocent man he declares not just his opponents, accusers, or even executioners guilty, but the whole order that support them. He dies that we might know that we, and all this world, fall short of God’s glory and are in sore need of redemption.
He dies, finally, because death is the only way to bring this fallen creation to a close so that God might create something new from the old and bring life even to those who are dying. He dies, and with him dies any hope that we can save ourselves. So that now, at this point in the story – the grand story not just of the gospel but of all of human history – at this point in the story we are all in it together, all dead, all desperately awaiting resurrection.
Prayer: Dear God, you sent Jesus that we might know, first, that apart from you we have no hope and, second, that in Jesus’ death and resurrection you have created new life, new creation, and new hope for all. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
David, your posts are a daily blessing. Thank you!
They also make me think. you wrote: “at this point in the story we are all in it together, all dead, all desperately awaiting resurrection.” I wonder about that last bit (“awaiting resurrection”). Although we who have heard and read the Passion story so many times know what will happen on Easter Sunday, would any of those present under that cross have had any inkling of a resurrection? The people under the cross are dead indeed, as you say, but I feel that this is a death unrelieved by any hope, total.
And isn’t that the point of Holy Saturday? We live through times when things fall apart, we have no hope, and we forget that Jesus has been there and is there for us.
Peace, Peter
That’s a great observation, Peter.
I wonder if we can be waiting for resurrection even when we don’t know it or wouldn’t call it that. Like when we feel we just can’t go on – probably the Saturday experience you describe – and long for something, maybe anything, else.
So, I think you’re right – I don’t think the characters were waiting for resurrection in a conscious or intentional sense, but that they definitely needed resurrection, which might have been a better way of putting it.
Thanks for your comment and conversation!
Thank you for this DJL,
We sing in a hymn something about how Jesus died to satisfy God’s wrath and that idea always freaks me out. For many years I had no grasp of God’s love except through Jesus as our defender, sacrifice, and ransom, His death necessary to appease God’s wrath – and here your post says that Jesus ‘did not die to satisfy God’s wrath or make God loving’ – more on this please – thanks.