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Over the course of
37 Good Fridays, with a few reprieves for good behavior, host
pastors for ecumenical services have been handing out assigned
texts and telling me: "Here, preach on this." By
now, you’d think I would have seen them all….that my
barrel would be full….and that I could quote myself
(assuming that’s still allowed). But no, my good Brother
Jones stayed awake well into the night, searching for a text
about which I have said nothing and, if truth be told (which
it should be), have read nothing. And given the sadness of his
soon-to-be-accomplished sashay to Seattle, the good Brother
Jones won’t even be here for payback time when next we
Methodists host the service and I assign the texts.
As texts go, this
one is a footnote, really. It has nothing to do with anything
Jesus said or Pilate did. It’s about clothes, don’t you
see. Not as in "proper attire" for an afternoon
crucifixion (before Memorial Day, no less), but as in the
clothes that Jesus wore….or did not wear….to his
crucifixion.
There are certain
facts as John reports them…."facts" in the form of
numbers. The main number being four. Four soldiers. And four
garments to distribute. Plus an extra. The four soldiers were
Pilate’s soldiers….and four soldiers per crucifixion seems
to have been a common number (although Acts 12:4 mumbles
something about four squads of four, meaning sixteen).
From the soldiers’
point of view, you need to understand that "crucifixion
detail" was not considered a plum assignment. I mean,
nobody lined up for it. But there were some perks to it. And
one "perk" was that you got to take home (with no
questions asked) the clothes of the deceased. I kid you not.
It was a legitimate perk. History records it. Scholars assume
it. Although I doubt that the undertakers at Desmond’s and
Hamilton’s still do it. But you could ask.
The gospel says
that they (meaning the soldiers) divided four garments. Not
stole. Not grabbed. Not made off with. But divided. So, which
four?
There is common
agreement about three. One soldier would have gone home with
Jesus’ headpiece or turban. A second would have claimed his
"tallith," meaning his outer cloak or robe. A third
would have walked away with Jesus’ "cincture" or
girdle. When we get to the fourth, however, it gets tricky.
The fourth garment
could have been his two sandals (considered, for purposes of
distribution, as one). But some scholars say it was common to
go to your crucifixion barefoot. So, in lieu of sandals, the
fourth garment distributed could have been a "haluq"….worn
under a tunic….meaning (you guessed it) an undershirt.
This ceremonial
stripping may have left Jesus naked, which was the normal
practice when Romans crucified people. Which is not pleasant
to think about. But if Jesus really was "the new
Adam" ("as in Adam all die, so in Christ shall all
be made alive"), perhaps it is fitting for the new Adam
to go out as the old Adam came in. Naked, I mean.
But given Jewish
disdain for public nudity, it has been suggested that
benevolent Roman leaders, not wishing to offend Jewish
sensitivities during a pilgrimage period, may have allowed at
least minimal coverage.
So now you know….if,
indeed, you care. What you and I do not know is what is
involved in this "tunic" for which dice are thrown
or lots are cast. It was a fifth garment. And there were four
soldiers. So, what to do? Well, you could quarter it and send
everybody home with an equal portion. But what good is a
quartered tunic? Or, you could submit yourself to a little
game of chance and win it all (although you could also lose it
all). Personally, I’d go for the chance. So would you.
Now I know that
gambling anywhere….especially at the foot of the cross….is
not a very Baptist-like thing to do. But we’re not talking
five card stud here. This isn’t a high stakes, bet the farm,
lose the rent money, "first big step on the road to
degradation" poker game here. This is a means of
distribution, far more than it is an act of degradation. We’ve
got four soldiers. We’ve got five garments. We’ve got a
Roman practice that says soldiers can take garments home. So
how do you split the garments up? Color the soldiers
"greedy" if you want, but I’m not really sure that’s
what this text is about.
So, smart guy,
what is it about? Well, I’m not really sure. But hang tough
and I’ll give it a try. The clue seems to be in the word
"seamless." This fifth item of apparel….this
gambled-over tunic….is one piece of cloth. And who else….by
custom and tradition….wore a seamless tunic? I’ll tell you
who wore a seamless tunic. The Jewish high priest, that’s
who. And what was the ultimate function of the high priest? I’ll
tell you that, too. The high priest was to be the liaison….
the linkage….the bridge, if you will….between God and man.
This business about "a seamless tunic" is the text’s
way of saying: "This is who Jesus is….the ultimate
bridge between God and man. So don’t mess with either the
tunic or the bridge."
The death of Jesus
cannot destroy his status. And even the soldiers….four
two-bit actors in the footnote of the drama….do nothing to
disturb that. The perfect bridge wears the seamless garment.
And interesting, isn’t it, that four guys who really have no
reason to care have enough sense not to tear it up.
Now I could get
real eloquent around that point, describing how the church
through the ages has torn and quartered Jesus….ripping off a
little part of him as if it were all of him, and then treating
the rest of the church as if it had none of him. I live in
fear that someday I am going to see on some church’s
signboard: "Jesus is here, and we’ve got him." As
in grabbing him…. clutching him….hiding him….monopolizing
him. I would submit that far too many….for far too long….have
operated as if the part of Jesus they have is the only part
there is, thereby allowing them to be "picky and
stingy" about the franchise rights. But this is a
cooperative day. And I’m a cooperative guy. So I won’t go
there.
Instead, let me
say an ancillary word about the difference between the
garments and the guy. Clothes may drape the man. In a
sartorial way, they may also make the man (I’ll concede that
much to the tailors). But clothes are no substitute for the
man.
Can’t you just
see one of those soldiers putting Jesus’ undershirt up for
bid on E-Bay? Or a square of his undershirt? I can hear that
soldier now, sitting by his monitor singing: "Nickels,
dimes, ten dollar bills, my God how the money rolls in."
If only he’d had the foresight to have Jesus sign it….in
Aramaic….for authenticity….before dying. Now that would
have been greedy. But smart.
The other night,
at a church-based silent auction, I saw a Red Wings jersey
signed by Steve Yzerman. I found myself wondering if,
perchance, it was a game jersey. Meaning, did Stevie actually
wear it? Better yet, had he scored a goal while wearing it?
Perchance, in overtime?
As members of my
congregation know, I have a daughter….a very smart and very
lovely daughter….who, come June, will graduate from Harvard
Business School. Where, in addition to everything else she has
done, she has played right wing on the women’s hockey team.
In fact, her season-ending tournament is this weekend. Yale
last night. University of Michigan tonight. MIT tomorrow. Two
more days and her teeth are home free.
So I actually
considered bidding on Yzerman’s jersey as a gift for my
daughter. I dropped out when the numbers got into the middle
hundreds. Although, were she to have saved it to wear someday
at her wedding, I could have gotten off cheap.
But when one
considers "my daughter the hockey player," it’s a
good thing that she will soon have a Harvard degree. For there
is no magic in the jersey….no magic in the name….no magic
in any garment, any relic, any leftover remnant from anybody
(up to and including Jesus). The hem of Jesus’ garment did
not stop any woman’s 12-year flow of blood. Although faith
in the man who wore it (and, as you Baptists like to say,
"in his precious blood") may have. Souvenirs don’t
mean squat until you’ve experienced the main attraction.
I suspect that at
the end of a long, bloody day….and a long, bloody detail….any
one of those soldiers had a choice of options. A piece of
Jesus. Or the peace of Jesus. Unfortunately, in scrambling to
pick up the one, they may have missed the other.
Given the benefits
of hindsight, don’t you make the same mistake.
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