There are more Scriptures about capital punishment and the death penalty and executions to take a look at: Leviticus, Numbers, and especially Deuteronomy are chock full of verses that codify when, where, why, and how a person should be put to death.
There’s Paul’s words in Romans too that ask us to subject ourselves to civil authorities and there is Jesus’ Gospel in John about the adulteress, ("Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.")
But after this morning’s verse, I think I’m done.
I feel as apart from who Jesus is right now as a wet, gross salamander crawling from the muck is to me.
Despite the pain and humiliation of being hung on a cross in front of thousands for a crime He didn’t commit, Jesus practiced God’s forgiveness.
And I don’t know how.
Luke 23:34 But Jesus was saying, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots, dividing His garments among themselves.
I read this Scripture over and over and I ponder the juxtaposition of all that is human and evil about us and how perfect and loving Jesus is.
I mean Jesus is hanging there on the cross in agony and the guards are playing dice to divide up His stuff.
That’s like propping your feet up on the bodies of the family you just murdered to watch Netflix.
Every single day there is some news story or another where I say, “Well, the bottom has been reached.”
But every day I’m proven wrong.
Yesterday, I read a story of a woman who was arrested for keeping 170 starving and filthy dogs, cats, rabbits, and birds in her home.
The depths of human inequity seem bottomless.
And how Jesus was brought up on charges, run through a kangaroo court of Pharisees and Romans and executed beside two common criminals during Passover is just another example of how exasperatingly awful humans and our systems can be.
The point, to me, of how flawed our system of justice is, that would include capital punishment is clear.
Gardner Hanks writes in Capital Punishment and the Bible:
‘Human justice systems, even at their best, are not perfect. They can be corrupted by economic, political, and personal considerations. When this occurs, they become unjust. If they are allowed to use the death penalty, they may impose it on even the most innocent people.”
And yet…does John Wayne Gacy (torture, rape, and murder of over 30 boys) and Ted Bundy (rape and murder of over 30 girls and women) and that creepy jailhouse Christian convert Brad Sigmon (baseball beating deaths of his girlfriend’s parents), deserve to spend even one more minute on earth–maybe not free, but alive?
I think through the what the new Catholic teaching is on the inadmissibility of the death penalty and I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to sit quietly and pray my crushing grief away if my wife was one of Ted Bundy’s rape and murder victims and I knew that he got to eat his Salsibury steak every day, wiping gravy from his chin, smiling and writing letters to all of the sick women on the outside for the rest of his life–after he took my wife’s life.
We are a country where our justice system (along with everything else) where the death penalty is divided by political and personal considerations–just like Hanks wrote.
27 states have the death penalty, 23 states have abolished it.
That geographical arbitrariness seems to support the capriciousness of the application of the death penalty in our society.
But there is another consideration to consider beyond the fickleness and weakness of our human systems of justice.
Hanks continues:
“The death of Jesus was meant to atone for the sins of all human beings, including murderers. The first person saved by the blood of Jesus was Barabbas, a murderer. Jesus’ salvation is not just something that happens in the coming world. Salvation came to Barabbas in the here and now. It gave him a chance to turn away from his sinful life, even though there was no indication that Barabbas was a particularly good candidate for this offer of salvation.”
Barabbas skips away free because of the weird law on the books that the crowd could select one condemned man to go free during Passover–and Jesus allowed Barabbas to be that man.
No one knows if Barabbas made good on his second chance–but as an inexpert scholar of human nature–I’m going to guess not.
My guess is that Barabbas took his Get Off The Cross Free card, smirked, and went on his way to commit more mayhem and murder.
I think there is probably a good chance we make a mockery of Jesus’ sacrifice for our salvation, most every day–just like Barabbas.
And yet, even knowing that we are going to continue to sin after we are saved through our faith in Him, Jesus STILL goes to the cross for us.
Hanks underscores, what is at least to me, the impossibility for me to be like Jesus:
“Even though Jesus was put to death in a most cruel way for crimes He had not committed, He did not call for revenge. If anyone had a right to condemn His killers , it was Jesus. But Jesus did not seek revenge. He did not call from the cross for His followers or for God to avenge His death. Instead, He Prayed for his killers to be forgiven.”
I am so ego-driven that I feel like I would be spitting fury and death curses at my executioners through my last breath.
But maybe not.
Maybe I will transcend this world and let this world be–like Jesus.
Charles Spurgeon describes Jesus’ cry from the cross in The First Cry From the Cross:
“Our Lord was at that moment enduring the first pains of crucifixion; the executioners had just then driven the nails through his hands and feet. He must have been, moreover, greatly depressed, and brought into a condition of extreme weakness by the agony of the night in Gethsemane, and by the scourgings and cruel mockings which he had endured all through the morning, from Caiaphas, Pilate, Herod, and the Prætorian guards. Yet neither the weakness of the past, nor the pain of the present, could prevent him from continuing in prayer. The Lamb of God was silent to men, but he was not silent to God. Dumb as a sheep before her shearers, he had not a word to say in his own defence to man, but he continues in his heart crying unto his Father, and no pain and no weakness can silence his holy supplications. Beloved, what an example our Lord herein presents to us! Let us continue in prayer so long as our heart beats; let no excess of suffering drive us away from the throne of grace, but rather let it drive us closer to it.”
Our sinfulness seems bottomless, but God’s grace seems to have unknown heights.
I only know a few things to do about my sinful nature, that by default, wants to put murderers (and sometimes people who cut me off in traffic) to death
I won’t say to you that I no longer think the state of South Carolina should execute guilty criminals by firing squad.
I won’t say to you that I wouldn’t kill the murderer of any of my family or friends in cold blood–if I had the chance–because I don’t know that I wouldn’t.
Maybe you know already because you’ve had to deal with that–but I don’t know.
What I do know is that the only thing I can really do is pray to God, like Jesus did up on the cross, for while I pray to Him, I am truly alive and with Him.
He will prevail in me.
I know that.
Lord, with awe, we reflect on Jesus’ infinite mercy, pleading for those who crucified Him.
Lord, teach us to embody this forgiveness, to love despite being hurt, and to seek grace for those who wrong us. May Jesus’ compassion flow through us, healing us.
Amen.
PS. Tomorrow, I’m starting John Eldredge’s Experience Jesus. Really: Finding Refuge, Strength, and Wonder Through Everyday Encounters With God.
The title seems too long and clunky, but after a week or so of murder and capital punishment, I’m ready to explore a little wonder. Really. 🙂
Onward!