REMEMBER ME
March 27, 2005 The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
As I was reflecting this year on Easter – on the events leading up to it, and the Biblical stories on which those events are based -- a new image began forming in my mind – not new to the story, but a new focus for me; and that was the image of Jesus being crucified between two thieves. What a peculiar, yet powerful, image: This young prophet who was already being declared by some to be the long-awaited Messiah, left to die a torturous and humiliating death, framed by two common criminals.
But perhaps they were not so “common.”
While they’re mentioned in all four of the Gospels – which does lend some historical credibility to their presence, two of those four narratives give basically only a “nod” to the thieves, saying, “And with him they crucified two thieves, one on his right and one his left.” Those two Gospels – Mark’s and Matthew’s -- also say that the two thieves joined the soldiers and other bystanders below in taunting Jesus as he hung there dying.
Luke’s Gospel, on the other hand, doesn’t identify the type of crime they’ve committed, and the Gospel of John doesn’t even refer to them as criminals – just “two others.”
Of course, we know quite a bit about the arrest, trial and death of Jesus. Most Christians now acknowledge that, despite the implication of the Gospel narratives, it was the Roman authorities that were responsible for killing Jesus, not the Jews. According to A.N. Wilson, in his book, Jesus, A Life, the Romans had probably heard of an uprising being planned by Jewish dissidents just before Passover, when Jerusalem would be the most crowded and uncontrollable. In addition, they knew that zealots committed to armed rebellion were among some of Jesus’ followers. So when Jesus began talking to crowds about a new “Kingdom,” then riding into Jerusalem on a donkey surrounded by adoring followers, and finally entering the Temple and angrily throwing out the money-changers – well, no wonder Pontius Pilot was worried!
At any rate, the Gospels report much to us about Jesus’ death, and little about the two who were crucified alongside him. But in the original Greek, the word used for these two was “lastai,” which meant not only “bandit,” but “political terrorist.” Josephus, who collaborated with the Romans, referred to them derisively as “zealots,” which meant the same back then as calling them Jewish freedom-fighters.
And rather than being strangers to Jesus, Wilson asserts that they “may have been as close to him as were (the disciples) Peter, James or John.”
In the Gospel of Luke, the picture is expanded even more. Luke tells us that the first thief did indeed taunt Jesus, asking him why he wasn’t saving the three of them if he was indeed the Messiah? But the other thief scolds the first, saying “…we are paying for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong.” This second thief then turns to Jesus and utters one of the most poignant prayers I’ve ever heard: He says, “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus answers: “In truth I tell you, today you are with me in Paradise.” Not only will Jesus remember the thief, but they will remain together beyond death. The thief and the prophet are one.
So I wonder: Were any family members or allies kneeling at the base of the thieves’ crosses, mourning their deaths? Was anyone going to be remembering them after their death, and holding them up as teachers or prophets?
“Remember me.…Do not let my life and my struggles be for nothing.” The plea is universal; we yearn to be remembered after we die. We live our lives in hopes that what we do will live on after us – will “resurrect” our spirit.
This idea is the central theme in most Unitarian Universalist memorial services – which we usually call “Celebrations of Life” – emphasizing the life of the deceased, not their death. What makes such a service most meaningful is not the prayers, or the music, or even the minister’s homily; what touches people most deeply are the stories shared about the person who has died, and the knowledge that we will never forget him or her; that they remain with us through our living.
But the words of the rebel crucified alongside Jesus call us to remember others besides those we’ve known; his words ask us to hold in our memories the stranger, near and far, who is so often forgotten.
Every evening that I’m at home, I watch The News Hour on public television, as do many of you; and often I’m puttering around my house and only half listening. But what brings me to a standstill is the silent memorial to the American soldiers who have died in Iraq that day. It is a powerful reminder that our occupation of that country is costing the lives of primarily young men and women in their early 20s, who enlisted in the military as a means to earn a living. I go through my days giving no thought at all to these young soldiers; and then I watch the News Hour, and suddenly there they are. We cannot let them be forgotten.
But neither should we forget the soldiers from other countries, including Iraq itself, who are also dying from this senseless war, as well as the hundreds of innocent Iraqis who fall victim to the violence. All of them cry out: “Remember us; do not let our lives to have been in vain.”
The children of the world – those who have died young, or those scarred by war or disease, by hunger or violence, or sheer lack of love – each cries out to us: “Remember me; resurrect for me some reason for hope; create for me a new world.” Even though our highest political leaders may ignore students murdered by another student on an Indian reservation, or children gunned down by other children in our inner cities, because to say something might offend the powerful gun lobby…we must not ignore those children; we must show our compassion by speaking up for the children, and demanding a world that is safe.
The words of the thief on the cross are the words of the poor – those who are homeless, and those just barely able to keep a roof over their head and food on their table. At a time when the leaders of both our state and our country are cutting essential services to the poor so that the wealthy can retain their wealth, we must not allow the poorest to be forgotten. We must remind ourselves and those in power that the poorest of the poor, and all who struggle for a living wage, access to health care, and decency in the workplace, are not separate from us; their struggle is ours.
Even the Earth cries out to us: “Remember me. As you live your life with my waters, my trees, my air, my mountains, and my creatures…honor me with your gratitude and with your caution. Seek always to plant new life and sustain what is here.” Perhaps never before have the gifts of the Earth been so imperiled as they are today, with protections previously granted now being ripped away. We must do whatever we can to reverse this trend, through the way we live, and through speaking out.
To all those voices that cry out to us, each of us must respond: “I will remember you; I know you; you and I are one.”
But perhaps finally, it is the voice of Jesus himself that calls to us at this season: “Remember me,” he might be saying. “Do not forget the lessons for which I lived and died: That God is loving and embraces all people; that we must seek to forgive those who hurt us, to understand those we fear, to love the stranger as we love our own people. Remember that peace is more courageous than war, justice is more powerful than fear, and love is stronger than death.”
For Easter is not a time for despair and mourning, but for remembrance and resurrection, for rebirth in our hearts and in our world. The prayer of the rebel on the cross becomes now a prayer for the earth and for all people who yearn to be set free, who seek new life and sustenance, who cry out to be remembered in life, not just in death. And our response becomes not one lone voice, but the voices of us all, collectively acting with hearts and minds, with hands and bodies, to bring redemption to a broken world, and to re-awaken our visions of hope.
May our hearts be opened, and our courage be re-born. Amen.
© 2005 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
