A READING FOR HOLY WEEK

Reading for Holy Week:

The Sufferings and Death of Jesus

Matthew 27: 11 — 26

Jesus Before Pilate

These verses describe our Lord's appearance before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor. That sight must have been wonderful to the angels of God. He who will one day judge the world allowed Himself to be judged and condemned, though "He had done no violence, neither was any deceit in His mouth." (Isa.53: 9.) He, from whose lips Pilate and Caiaphas will one day receive their eternal sentence, suffered silently an unjust sentence to be passed upon Him. Those silent sufferings fulfilled the words of Isaiah: "As a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He openeth not His mouth." (Isa. 53: 7.) To those silent sufferings believers owe all their peace and hope. — Through them they will have boldness in the Day of Judgment, who in themselves would have nothing to say.

Let us learn, from the conduct of Pilate, how pitiful is the condition of an unprincipled great man.

Pilate appears to have been inwardly satisfied that our Lord had done nothing worthy of death. We are told distinctly, that, " he knew that for envy they had delivered Him." Left to the exercise of his own unbiased judgment he would probably have dismissed the charges against our Lord, and let Him go free.

But Pilate was the governor of a jealous and turbulent people. His great desire was to procure favour with them and please them. He cared little how much he sinned against God and conscience, so long as he had the praise of man. Though willing to save our Lord's life, he was afraid to do it if it offended the Jews; and so, after a feeble attempt to divert the fury of the people from Jesus to Barabbas, — and a feebler attempt to satisfy his own conscience, by washing his hands publicly before the people, — he at last condemned One whom he himself called a "just person!" He rejected the strange and mysterious warning, which his wife sent to him after her dream. He stifled the remonstrances of his own conscience. He "delivered Jesus to be crucified."

We see in this miserable man a lively emblem of many a ruler of this world! How many there are who know well that their public acts are wrong, and yet have not the courage to act up to their knowledge. They fear the people; they dread being laughed at: they cannot bear being unpopular! Like dead fish, they float with the tide. The praise of man is the idol before which they bow down, and to that idol they sacrifice conscience, inward peace, and an immortal soul.

Whatever our position in life may be, let us seek to be guided by principle, and not by expediency. The praise of man is a poor, feeble, uncertain thing: it is here today and gone to-morrow. Let us strive to please God, and then we may care little who else is pleased. Let us fear God, and then there is none else of whom we need be afraid.

Let us learn from the conduct of the Jews, described in these verses, the desperate wickedness of human nature.

The behaviour of Pilate afforded the chief priests and elders an occasion of reconsidering what they were about. The difficulties he raised about condemning our Lord gave time for second thoughts. But there were no second thoughts in the minds of our Lord's enemies. They pressed on their wicked deed. They rejected the compromise that Pilate offered.

They actually preferred having a wretched felon, named Barabbas, set at liberty rather than Jesus. They clamoured loudly for our Lord's crucifixion; and they wound up all by recklessly taking on themselves all the guilt of our Lord's death.

And what had our Lord done that the Jews should hate Him so? He was no robber, or murderer. He was no blasphemer of their God, or reviler of their prophets. He was one whose life was love. He was one who "went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil." (Acts 10: 38.) He was innocent of any transgression against the law of God or man; and yet the authorities hated Him, and never rested till He was slain! They hated Him, because He told them the truth. They hated Him, because he testified of their works that they were evil. They hated the light, because it made their own darkness visible. In a word, they hated Christ, because He was righteous and they were wicked, — because He was holy and they were unholy — because He testified against sin, and they were determined to keep their sins and not let them go.

Let us observe this. There are few things so little believed and realized as the corruption of human nature. Men fancy that if they saw a perfect person they would love and admire him. They flatter themselves that it is the inconsistency of professing Christians, which they dislike, and not their religion. They forget that when a really perfect man was on earth, in the person of the Son of God, He was hated and put to death. That single fact goes far to prove the truth of an old saying, that "unconverted men would kill God, if they could get at him."

Let us never be surprised at the wickedness there is in the world. Let us mourn over it, and labour to make it less, but let us never be surprised at its extent. There is nothing, which the heart of man is not capable of conceiving, or the hand of man of doing. As long as we live, let us mistrust our own hearts. Even when renewed by the Spirit, they are still "deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked."(Jer. l7: 9).

Matthew 27: 27 — 44

The Soldiers Mock Jesus and Crucify Him

These verses describe the sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ after His condemnation by Pilate, — His sufferings in the hands of the brutal Roman soldiers, and His final sufferings on the cross. They form a marvellous record. They are marvellous when we remember the Sufferer — the eternal Son of God? They are marvellous when we remember the persons for whom these sufferings were endured. We and our sins were the cause of all this sorrow! He "died for our sins." (1 Cor. 15: 3.)

Let us observe, in the first place, the extent and reality of our Lord's sufferings.

The catalogue of all the pains endured by our Lord's body is indeed a fearful one. Seldom has such suffering been inflicted on one body in the last few hours of a life. The most savage primitive tribes, in their refinement of cruelty, could hardly have heaped more agonizing tortures on an enemy than were accumulated on the flesh and bones of our beloved Master. Never let it be forgotten that He had a real human body, a body exactly like our own, just as sensitive, just as vulnerable, just as capable of feeling intense pain. And then let us see what that body endured.

Our Lord, we must remember, had already passed a night without sleep, and endured excessive fatigue. He had been taken from Gethsemane to the Jewish council, and from the council to Pilate's judgment hall. He had been twice placed on His trial, and twice unjustly condemned. He had been already scourged and beaten cruelly with rods. And now, after all this suffering, He was delivered up to the Roman soldiers, a body of men no doubt expert in cruelty, and, of all people, least likely to behave with delicacy of compassion. — These hard men at once proceeded to work their will.

They "gathered together the whole band." They stripped our Lord of His raiment, and put on Him, in mockery, a scarlet robe. They "plaited a crown of sharp thorns," and in derision placed it on His head. They then bowed the knee before Him in mockery, as nothing better than a pretended king. They "spit upon Him.' They "smote Him on the head:" and finally, having put His own robe on Him, they led Him out of the city to a place called Golgotha, and there crucified Him between two thieves.

But what was a crucifixion? Let us try to realize it, and understand its misery. The person crucified was laid on his back on a piece of timber, with a crosspiece nailed to it near one end, — or on the trunk of a tree with branching arms, which answered the same purpose. His hands were spread out on the crosspiece, and nails driven through each of them, fastening them to the wood. His feet in like manner were nailed to the upright part of the cross. And then, the body having been securely fastened, the cross was raised up, and fixed firmly in the ground. And there hung the unhappy sufferer, till pain and exhaustion brought him to his end, — not dying suddenly, for no vital part of him was injured; but enduring the most excruciating agony from his hands and feet, and unable to move. Such was the death of the cross. Such was the death that Jesus died for us! For six long hours He hung there before a gazing crowd, naked, and bleeding from head to foot, — His head pierced with thorns, His back lacerated with scourging, - His hands and feet torn with nails, — and mocked and reviled by His cruel enemies to the very last.

Let us meditate frequently on these things: let us often read over the story of Christ's cross and passion. Let us remember, not least, that all these horrible sufferings were borne without a murmur. No word of impatience crossed our Lord's lips. In His death, no less than in His life, He was perfect. To the very last Satan found nothing in Him. (John 14: 30.)

Let us observe, in the second place, that all our Lord Jesus Christ's sufferings were vicarious. He suffered not for His own sins, but for ours. He was eminently our substitute in all His passion.

This is a truth of the deepest importance. Without it the story of our Lord's sufferings, with all its minute details, must always seem mysterious and inexplicable. It is the truth, however, of which the Scriptures speak frequently, and that too with no uncertain sound. We are told that Christ "bare our sins in His own body on the tree," — that He "suffered for sins, the just for the unjust," — that "He was made sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him," — that "He was made a curse for us," — that "He was offered to bear the sins of many," — that "He was wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities." — and that "the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all."

(1 Peter 2: 22, and 3: 18; 2 Cor. 5: 21; Gal 3: 13; Heb. 9: 28; Isaiah 53: 5, 6.) May we all remember these texts. They are among the foundation stones of the Gospel.

But we must not be content with a vague general belief that Christ's sufferings on the cross were vicarious. We are intended to see this truth in every part of His passion. We may follow him all through, from the bar of Pilate, to the minute of His death, and see Him at every step as our mighty Substitute, our Representative, our Head, our Surety, our Proxy, — the Divine Friend who undertook to stand in our stead, and by the priceless merit of His sufferings, to purchase our redemption. Was He scourged? It was that "through His stripes we might be healed." — Was He condemned, though innocent? It was that we might be acquitted, though guilty. — Did He wear a crown of thorns? It was that we might wear the crown of glory. — Was He stripped of His raiment? It was that we might be clothed in everlasting righteousness. — Was He mocked and reviled? It was that we might be honoured and blessed. — Was He reckoned a malefactor, and numbered among transgressors? It was that we might be reckoned innocent, and justified from all sin. — Was He declared unable to save Himself? It was that He might be able to save others to the uttermost. — Did He die at last, and that the most painful and disgraceful of deaths? It was that we might live for evermore, and be exalted to the highest glory. — Let us ponder these things well: they are worth remembering. The very key to peace is a right apprehension of the vicarious sufferings of Christ.

Let us leave the story of our Lord's passion with feelings of deep thankfulness. Our sins are many and great: but a great atonement has been made for them. There was an infinite merit in all Christ's sufferings: they were the sufferings of one who was God as well as man. Surely it is meet, right, and our bounden duty, to praise God daily because Christ has died.

Last, but not least, let us ever learn from the story of the passion, to hate sin with a great hatred. Sin was the cause of all our Saviour's suffering. Our sins plaited the crown of thorns. Our sins drove the nails into His hands and feet. On account of our sins His blood was shed. Surely the thought of Christ crucified should make us loathe all sin. Well says a homily of the Passion: "Let this image of Christ crucified be always printed in our hearts. Let it stir us up to the hatred of sin, and provoke our minds to the earnest love of Almighty God."

Matthew 27: 45 — 56

The Death of Jesus

In these verses we read the conclusion of our Lord Jesus Christ's passion. After six hours of agonizing suffering, He became obedient even unto death, and "yielded up the ghost." (gave up his breath.) Three points in the narrative demand a special notice: to them let us confine our attention.

Let us observe, in the first place, the remarkable words, which Jesus uttered shortly before His death. "My God, my God, why has Thou forsaken Me!"

There is a deep mystery in these words, which no mortal man can fathom. No doubt they were not wrung from our Lord by mere bodily pain: such an explanation is utterly unsatisfactory, and dishonourable to our blessed Saviour. They were meant to express the real pressure on His soul of the enormous burden of a world's sins. They were meant to show how truly and literally He was our substitute, — was made sin, and a curse for us, and endured God's righteous anger against a world's sin in his own person. At that awful moment the iniquity of us all was laid upon Him to the uttermost. It pleased the Lord to bruise Him, and put him to grief. (Isaiah 53: 10.) He bore our sins He carried our transgressions. Heavy must have been that burden, real and literal must have been our Lord's substitution for us, when He, the eternal Son of God, could speak of Himself as for a time forsaken."

Let the expression sink down into our hearts, and not be forgotten. We can have no stronger proof of the sinfulness of sin, or of the vicarious nature of Christ's sufferings, than His cry, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me!" It is a cry that should stir us up to hate sin, and encourage us to trust in Christ.

Let us observe, in the second place, how much is contained in the words, which describe our Lord's end. We are simply told, "He yielded up the Ghost."

There never was a last breath drawn of such deep import as this. There never was an event on which so much depended. The Roman soldiers, and the gaping crowd around the cross, saw nothing remarkable. They only saw a person dying as others die, with all the usual agony and suffering which attended a crucifixion. But they knew nothing of the eternal interests, which were involved in the whole transaction.

That death discharged in full the mighty debt which sinners owe to God, and threw open the door of life to every believer. That death satisfied the righteous claims of God's holy law, and enabled God to be "just, and yet the Justifier" of the ungodly. (Rom. 3: 26.) That death was no mere example of self-sacrifice, but a complete atonement and propitiation for man's sin, affecting the condition and prospects of all mankind. That death solved the hard problem, how God could be perfectly holy, and yet perfectly merciful. It opened to the world a fountain for all sin and uncleanness. It was a complete victory over Satan, and spoiled him openly. "It finished the transgression, made an end of sins, made reconciliation for iniquity, and brought in everlasting righteousness." (Dan. 9: 24.) It proved the sinfulness of sin, when it needed such a sacrifice to atone for it. It proved the love of God to sinners, when He sent His own Son to make the atonement. Never, in fact, was there, or could there be again, such a death. No wonder that the earth quaked, when Jesus died in our stead on the accursed tree. The solid frame of the world might well tremble and be amazed, when the soul of Christ was made "an offering for sin." (Isaiah 53: 10.)

Let us observe, in the last place, what a remarkable miracle occurred at the hour of our Lord's death, in the very midst of the Jewish temple. We are told that "the veil of the temple was rent in twain." The curtain which separated the holy of holies from the rest of the temple, and through which the high priest alone might pass, was suddenly "split from top to bottom."

Of all the wonderful signs, which accompanied our Lord's death, none was more significant than this. The mid-day darkness, for three hours, must needs have been a startling event. The earthquake, which rent the rocks, must have been a tremendous shock. But there was a meaning in the sudden "rending of the veil from top to bottom, "which must have pricked the heart of any intelligent Jew. The conscience of Caiaphas, the high priest, must have been hard indeed, if the tidings of that rent veil did not fill him with dismay.

That rending of the veil proclaimed the termination and passing away of the ceremonial law. It was a sign that the old dispensation of sacrifices and ordinances was no longer needed. Its work was done; its occupation was gone, from the moment that Christ died.

Let us turn from the story of the crucifixion, every time we read it with hearts full of praise. Let us praise God for the confidence it gives us, as to the ground of our pardon. Our sins may be many and great, but the payment made by our Great Substitute far outweighs them all. — Let us praise God for the view it gives us of the love of our Father in heaven. He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, will surely with Him give us all things. (Rom. 8: 32.) Not least, let us praise God for the view it gives us of the sympathy of Jesus with all His believing people. He can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities. He knows what suffering is. He is just the Saviour that an infirm body, with a weak heart, in an evil world, requires.

(From, Expository Thoughts On Matthew, by J. C. Ryle, Hodder & Stoughton, 1911)