Lenten Series 2

Eight days after Jesus was born, his parents took him to Jerusalem to have him presented at the temple, circumcised, and to offer the proper sacrifices.  When they got there, an old man named Simeon met them in the Temple.  He had been waiting for the Messiah to be born, and had been promised that he wouldn’t die until he saw Him.  Upon laying his eyes on Jesus, he took the baby in his arms and praised God for at last sending the Saviour for all people!

Then he looked at Mary and said: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.”  And you can almost see the look of pain and concern in his eyes as he concluded by saying… “And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

I wonder if those were the words that were hitting Mary now as she stood at the cross watching the crucifixion of her firstborn.  There can’t be a worse sight in the world than watching someone crucified.  So now imagine standing at the foot of a cross, watching the crucifixion of your own child!  A sword will pierce your own soul too.  One of the Roman soldiers guarding Christ’s cross might just as well have taken his sword and run Mary through with it.  That would have hurt less than the horrific scene playing out in front of her own eyes.  And it would have been over quicker.  Mary’s heart was bleeding, filled with pain.

I wonder if she ever heard her son say what is recorded in Matthew 19:29? “And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.”  OK, leaving fields and houses is understandable.  But leaving family?  Leaving the ones we love the most?  Saying goodbye to Mom?  To Dad?  To child?  Can sacrifice get anymore sacrificial than that? 

“Dear woman, here is your son.”  The words of tender care Jesus spoke on the cross.  Son was saying goodbye to mother.  That sword was piercing her soul.  Mary had learned the heartache of saying goodbye.  After all the wonderful times she had raising Jesus, one day he walked into the house and took off his carpenter’s belt.  “John is preaching in the desert now.”  And they both knew what that meant.  Time to say goodbye.  They both knew it wouldn’t be the same again.  The sword began to pierce.  From then on, Mary had to love her son from a distance.  From the edge of the crowd.  Outside a packed house.  Maybe she was even there when Jesus spoke his promise about leaving family: “Anyone who has left…mother…for my sake.”  And now again at the cross: “Dear woman, here is your son.”

Mary wasn’t the first one who had to say good-bye to loved ones for the sake of God’s kingdom.  Joseph had to leave his family.  Jonah was called to a foreign city.  Hannah sent her firstborn, Samuel, away to serve in the temple.  Daniel went from Jerusalem to Babylon.  Abraham was sent to sacrifice his own son.

And Mary wasn’t the last to say goodbye to family for the sake of the Lord’s work.  Paul had to say goodbye to his heritage.  Timothy to his family.  The disciples to their wives and children.  The Bible is filled with tearful goodbyes.  In fact, goodbye is a word that is all too common in the vocabulary of a Christian.  Missionaries know it well.  Those who send them know it.  The doctor who leaves the city to work in the jungle hospital has said it.  The Bible translator who lives far from home.  Those who feed the hungry.  Those who teach the lost.  Those who help the poor know the word goodbye. 

I know it.  Seven years ago Dawn and I sat in the Seminary auditorium next to my parents, listening to a list of names being read.  After mine, we heard: Mississauga.  I am sure Kevin and Cindie remember the same experience well.  So do our parents.  Some of you will get acquainted with that word next year as your children go off to school to train for ministry.  And I am sure many of you have experienced the word goodbye for the sake of doing God’s work.

Question:  What kind of God would put people through such agony?  What kind of God would give you families and then ask you to leave them?  What kind of God would give you friends and then ask you to say goodbye?  Answer:  A God who knows that the deepest love is not built on passion and romance but on a common mission and sacrifice.  Answer:  A God who knows that we are only visitors here anyway and that our eternal home with Him in heaven is so near that any “Goodbye” is really a “See you tomorrow.”  Answer:  A God who did it Himself.  “Dear woman, here is your son.”

The disciple Jesus loved, John, held his arm around Jesus’ mother and took her home to take care of her.  Jesus was asking him to be the son that a mother needs.  Jesus looked at Mary, and no doubt felt a sword piercing his soul on top of the other swords piercing his body.  The pain of having to say goodbye.  As He said goodbye, He made sure that his mother was taken care of.  He spoke a Word of Tender Care to her.

She needed that care, that comfort, as this “sword” was piercing her soul.  You see, Joseph wasn’t standing there.  We have to assume that Mary was a widow by this time.  And if Mary was alone?  A widow in that culture?  Sorry, no social insurance.  No pension.  No welfare.  She needed help.  Couldn’t her other children help her?  Jesus didn’t seem to have any confidence in that.

And to be honest, Jesus really had nothing to give her.  His only possessions in the world, the clothes on his back, had just been divided up and taken by the soldiers.  All He had to offer her was the help of people who had been around Him.  In particular, one beloved disciple of his who had followed Him through thick and thin.  So Jesus, being the perfect and obedient Son all the way to the end, made sure his aged mother was taken care of.  He HAD to do this to be the perfect Son!  This is what God expects!  So He asked John to take care of her by speaking these words of Tender Care to his mother: “Dear woman, here is your son.” and to his disciple: “Here is your mother.” Then we’re told: “From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.”

Notice Mary wasn’t on the cross.  She wasn’t the one responsible for redeeming us.  She was at the foot of the cross.  One of us who needed to be redeemed.  Who needed to be helped and comforted.  An imperfect sinner who needed Jesus’ forgiveness.  And a frail human being who needed human kindness.  Jesus remained the perfect Son to the end.  He provided for his mother.  He cared for her.  He said Goodbye to her.  And in doing so, He also cared for us!

You see, if it wouldn’t have been for Mary’s sins, for Adam and Eve’s sins, and for your sins and my sins, Jesus wouldn’t had to have been hanging on that cross.  He wouldn’t have had to say goodbye to her.  He wouldn’t have had to say goodbye to his heavenly Father.  He wouldn’t have had to be separated from God.  But it is because of our sins, because of the times we haven’t cared for other people, the times we have acted so cruelly, the times we have not been obedient to God, that Jesus had to hang on that cross and pay our penalty.  We owed God a huge debt.   Jesus paid that debt by hanging on that cross and saying goodbye to his mother.

But in order to bear our sins on the cross and pay for them, Jesus had to be perfect.  The perfect human being.  The perfect friend.  The perfect Son.  And so when He spoke those words of tender care to his mother, making sure she was taken care of, He was also taking care of us!  He was also living the perfect life where we have failed being perfect children for our parents!  So that God would give us credit for obeying his Fourth Commandment!

If you and I struggle to understand all that God means by the command: “Honour your father and mother, that it may go well with you,” then we need only to look to Jesus on his cross!  We need only to listen!  “Dear woman, here is your son.  Son, here is your mother.”  With this word of tender care, the perfect Son perfectly kept the Fourth Commandment, just as He kept all the other ones.  Jesus kept that commandment for you, and He kept it for me.  He kept it for imperfect sons and daughters who do not always honour our parents the way we should.

For every time our parents said, “Please clean your room.” And we responded, “I don’t feel like it.  I don’t mind the mess anyway.  Maybe next week.”  For every time our parents asked, “Why weren’t you home by 11:30, curfew time?  We were worried sick!”  And we shot back, “Curfew is for babies.  None of my friends have a curfew.  I’ll do what I want.”  For every time an aged parent says, “I haven’t heard from you in such a long time, why don’t you call anymore?”  And we get defensive and say, “It’s been so busy at work lately, and with all the kids.  I just don’t have time to call.”

For all the times we fall so woefully short of the bar our heavenly Father set when He asked us to honour our moms and dads – for all those times, there is Jesus, God’s perfect Son!  Jesus, Mary’s perfect son!  The One who did it perfectly for us.  And there is his word of tender care: “Dear woman, here is your son…”   Amen.

-Some material from this sermon borrowed and adapted from Glen Schwanke’s WELS Lenten sermons and also from Max Lucado’s “No Wonder They Call Him Savior.”

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