A Sermon Delivered at First Christian Church Stockton
March 29 2002

Few really cared that a man from Bethlehem named Jesus died. It was a small event. Just another execution, a diversion for the people, entertainment for an afternoon.  He died and nothing changed. It was a minute victory for Roman rulers -- one suspected revolutionary was dead. It was a small victory for the religious establishment -- one heretical leader died. It was a sizable tragedy for his followers, but most of them went right back to their homes and chosen professions as fishermen and such. 

At the time, his death was barely a blip, quite forgettable, quite unremarkable, quite unexceptional. Certainly not what sociologists might describe as a generational defining moment.

We’ve all heard of the Lost Generation, the WW II generation, the Baby Boomers, the X-ers, and the Y generation.  Generations are usually shaped by  defining moments:  The Great Depression, the New Deal, Pearl Harbor, WW II, the Holocaust, Hiroshima, the Cold War, the Great Society and the Civil Rights movement, the assassinations of John, Bobby, and Martin, the Moon walk, Vietnam, Watergate, the assassination of John Lennon, the Challenger spacecraft, the Internet, the Gulf War, Clinton Scandals, Columbine, and six months ago, 9/11.

Tragic deaths always leave scars that are profoundly personal. I will never forget hearing of JFK’s assassination in November, 1963 while I was in the First Grade.  They sent us home to grieve.  I will never forget the tears streaming down my mother’s face as she woke up to the horrifying news in 1968 when Bobby Kennedy was shot after winning the Presidential Primary in California.  Where were you when you heard of MLK’S death? 

People and generations are shaped by tragedy and death.  On September 18, 2001, an elderly woman named Mrs. Kestenbaum went to her post office in Cape Elizabeth and found a package from her dear son, Howard Kestenbaum. The package was his Rosh Hashana gift to his mother. It was a jar of golden honey and a note that read, "May your New Year be sweet. Love, Howie."

On September 11, 2001, in the morning, on his way to his job at the World Trade Center, Howie Kestenbaum had stopped at his post office to mail her present. Howie died that morning, in a tower, one death among 4,000. So now in this generation, we are all re-defined, we are all reshaped, we are all re-formed into a somewhat more united citizenry, a new people. 

 When Jesus died, his generation wasn't defined. He did not have the popularity and cult-like following of John, Bobby, and Martin.  When Jesus died, except for some women at the foot of the cross, no one mourned. No one knew this death was exceptional. There was no press report. No news briefing. No shocked nation. Few took notice of another Jew's execution.  He did change the course of history, that we now realize. But at the time, who knew? Who cared?

The disciples didn't know. They had fled and returned to their former occupations, hauling nets, collecting taxes, pounding nails, trying to forget, trying to blend in, trying to hide.  Religious leaders didn't know. Many rejoiced that an agitating rabble-rouser Rabbi  was eliminated. They were anxious to get on with Passover.
The Roman political leaders didn't know. They just wanted to get rid of that troublemaker and keep peace in an unimportant Roman province.
The people didn't know. They were thoroughly disillusioned.

 Do we know? Do we understand choosing the cross can be for us the defining moment of our spiritual lives?

Have we encountered Christ in a way that affirms that Jesus was not just a good man, not just someone who showed us how to love one another, but as the Savior who died on this day, Good Friday, in a specific time and place, died for the sins of the world?

It was a tragedy. He died that day. Yes, he did, and his death was a terrible tragedy, but it was also a magnificent victory. It was a Tragic Victory that, over the centuries, has become pivotal, formative and earth changing.  And it was all for naught if it has not shaped and defined our lives, transforming us into his likeness. 

Through his death and resurrection, he became our only hope that life is more than flesh and bone. In Christ we become all that God has created us to be, with meaning, purpose, and hope in a world ruled by death and chaos. Unless we open our hearts, souls, minds and lives to Christ, his great victory will remain but a tragedy ... not for him, but for us.
   

Michael Malone
March 24, 2002

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