Sermon Prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church

The 2nd Wednesday in Lent, evening service – 3/14/01

by Gregory S. Kaurin

Associate Pastor for Spiritual Care and Development

 

Text: John 18:38-19:7

 

The Sermon:

The Scourge of the Land

 

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The sound of Lent on which we meditate tonight is the sound of the whip, the scourge.

 

An old proverb that I believe to be true is this: “Blood that is spilt never sleeps.” [Using a stiff stick and cushion in the back a volunteer creates the sound of the whip, four times.]  After Cain killed his brother God called to him saying, “Cain, your brother’s blood cries out to me from the earth!”  “Blood that is spilt never sleeps” [four sounds of the whip].

Maybe it’s something like Edgar Allen Poe’s Telltale Heart.  Violence, blood, sorrow, grief—none of these can be eternally repressed, or held in.  They must come to light; they must cry out; they do not sleep.

The Bible promises that things hidden, whether good or evil, will be revealed.  If no time or nowhere else, they will be uncovered ultimately by the light of God.

 

“Blood that is spilt never sleeps” [four sounds of the whip].  That sounds like a call for justice.  It sounds like it calls for revenge.  “Blood that is spilt never sleeps” [four sounds of the whip]. 

When we speak of Jesus’ blood, two moments come immediately to mind: his Last Supper, and the blood on the cross.  But the cross is not the only thing stained by Jesus’ blood.  There was another instrument that took part in his suffering and death.

Whether he was tied to a post or stretched out on a frame, Jesus was scourged with the leather cords of a Roman whip.  The Roman whip did not just raise welts.  There were several kinds.  The most simple was a several-corded leather whip with knots at the end of each strand.  The more harsh whips had bits of bone, metal and sharp stones embedded or tied to their strands.  There was one whip that had its own name.  It was called the “scorpion” because it had hooks attached to the end of each cord!

Regardless of which one was used on Jesus, they all bit into the flesh, cutting deep, stripping away skin and spilling blood.  It was not uncommon to die from the scourging alone.  In Jesus’ case, it may be the reason that he died in a matter of hours on the cross—instead of the days it often took—because of the blood spilt on the ground of the whipping post. 

“Blood that is spilt never sleeps” [four sounds of the whip].  Jesus’ blood does not sleep.  It cries out from the whip and from the grounds of the Roman guard where it dripped.

His blood is, in fact, a call for justice, God’s justice.  But if it calls for revenge, then it is the kindest revenge the world has ever known.

 

In the other gospels the scourging was lumped together with his crucifixion.  John carefully showed how Pilate hoped to placate the crowd.  Maybe it would be enough to do the initial part of the crucifixion, the scourging.  The cracking whip, the ridicule, the bleeding stooped man in front of them, looking beaten and ridiculous in robe and thorned crown, maybe that would be enough for the crowd?

But, no.  Matthew tells us that the crowd called out, “His blood be on us…and on our children!”  How right.  How true.  His blood was on the whip, on the clothes and fists of the soldiers, on Pilate (no matter how well he washed his hands), and it was on the people, and the nations, and on us—their children! 

You’ve probably heard the idea that each sin nailed and was nailed Jesus to the cross.  We can also imagine each violent act, each hate-filled word, thought or action that we’ve done is a part of that leather cord, cracking and soaking into the blood of Christ.  “Blood that is spilt never sleeps” [four sounds of the whip]. 

 

I think that Jesus cried out loud in anguish during the scourging …for more reasons than the pain alone.  I don’t know for sure; the Bible doesn’t say.  It’s hard for me to hear it, to imagine or think about it, but he probably did.

But his cries, whether silent or aloud, are heartbreaking.  The sound of the cracking whip, it makes me sad…and angry.  It makes me feel profoundly guilty.

How can I keep on doing the things that hurt him? the things for which he suffered? like another piece of sharp bone and leather that bit into his suffering flesh, and was soaked in his spilling blood?  If blood that is spilt never sleeps, then for what does the blood of Christ cry?  If it cries for justice, what justice?  How can these people, these nations, how can I survive God’s justice?  How can I be made right before God?

There is only one way: for God himself to take my scourging as Jesus, as a man, to look out over the sea of faces—but to know each of those faces, each of our faces…me…you…by name.  And then he says, “Father, forgive them.  Forgive him.  Forgive her.”

 

Blood that is spilt…never sleeps [four sounds of the whip].  Christ’s blood never sleeps.  It is always crying out…for forgiveness…God’s forgiveness.  Amen.

 

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