Luke 23:32-49

CRITICAL NOTES

Luke 23:32.—Malefactors.—Called by St. Matthew and St. Mark “robbers.” Probably they were insurgents against Roman rule, who had been more like brigands than patriots.

Luke 23:33. Calvary.—Rather, “The Skull.” The Greek word is simply “kranion,” a rendering of the Hebrew “Golgotha”; our A.V. adopts the Latin word for the same thing. There is no reason for speaking of the place as a mount; it was probably a knoll of ground somewhat like a skull in shape. The idea that it derived its name from the skulls of persons who had been executed, lying on the ground, is erroneous. The Jews scrupulously buried the dead.

Luke 23:34. Then said Jesus.—Probably during the act of crucifixion; and the words referred primarily to the Roman soldiers who nailed Him to the cross. St. Luke records three of the seven sayings from the cross— Luke 23:34; Luke 23:43; Luke 23:46. This saying is strangely omitted in some very ancient MSS., but there can be no doubt of its genuineness. Parted His raiment.—The clothes of the criminal in most countries being appropriated by the executioners.

Luke 23:35. Stood beholding.—Though the attitude tells nothing of their state of mind, there is no reason to believe that any reaction in popular feeling had set in, or that those who demanded His death now abstained from deriding Him. With them.—Omit these words: omitted in R.V. If He be Christ.—Rather, “if this is the Christ of God, His chosen” (R.V.). The word translated “this” implies contempt.

Luke 23:36. Soldiers.—Four in number (John 19:23), with a centurion. Vinegar.—I.e., sour wine; probably forming part of their midday meal.

Luke 23:38. A superscription.—“A titulus” written in black letters on a board smeared with white gypsum. It was usual to put such a board over the head of a crucified person. In letters of Greek, etc.—Omitted in R.V. Perhaps the words are taken from the parallel passage in John 19:20. This the King, etc.—The title on the cross is variously given, probably because of the varying forms of expression in the three languages used. One evangelist may have in his mind the Hebrew rendering, another the Greek, another the Latin, and another may give us the general substance of all three.

Luke 23:39. One of the malefactors.—St. Matthew and St. Mark say that those crucified with Jesus reviled Him; but they evidently speak of classes of persons who did so—those that passed by, chief priests, scribes, elders—even the robbers; though, of course, it is possible that both of His companions in death at first joined in the derision, and that after a time one of them repented of having done so. If Thou be Christ.—Rather, “Art not Thou the Christ?” (R.V.).

Luke 23:40. Dost not thou? etc.—Rather, “Dost thou not even fear God?” (R.V.).

Luke 23:41. For we receive, etc.—Lit., “for we are receiving back things worthy of what we did.”

Luke 23:42. Into Thy kingdom.—More correctly, “in Thy kingdom”—a consummation in the far-distant future.

Luke 23:43. To-day.—This is the emphatic word: immediate instead of far-off reward, Paradise.—“This is a Persian word for park, or garden; used in LXX. of Eden (Genesis 2:8). In 2 Corinthians 12:4 it is used as equivalent to “the third heaven”; in Revelation 2:7 it is the same as the restored Eden figured in Revelation 21:22 as the New Jerusalem. The language is figurative, but no doubt in accordance with the truth concerning the unseen world” (Speaker’s Commentary).

Luke 23:44. Sixth hour.—I.e., midday. All the earth.—R.V. “the whole land.” This darkness could not have been an eclipse, as it was now (Passover) full moon.

Luke 23:45. The sun was darkened.—R.V. follows the reading, “the sun’s light failing”; which seems more like a gloss to explain the darkness than the original text. Veil of the Temple.—I.e., the veil that divided the Holy of Holies from the Holy Place.

Luke 23:46.—Father, into Thy hands, etc.—From Psalms 31:5. Gave up the ghost.—None of the evangelists use the words “He died,” but say “He breathed forth,” or “gave up His spirit.”

Luke 23:47. Glorified God.—“A notice characteristic of St. Luke (Luke 2:20, Luke 5:25, Luke 7:16, Luke 13:13, Luke 17:15, Luke 18:43)” (Farrar). A righteous man.—I.e., innocent, just; and as Jesus had, in his hearing, twice spoken of God as His Father (Luke 23:34; Luke 23:46), he was persuaded He must be a Son of God. The latter is given as the saying of the centurion in St. Matthew and St. Mark.

Luke 23:48. Smote their breasts.—I.e., in token of penitence. They were now, to some extent, repentant for the actions into which they had been goaded by the priests.

MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Luke 23:32

Three Words from the Cross.—Seven words, in all, Christ spoke from the cross; St. Luke records only the prayer He offered for His murderers, His promise to the penitent, and the last cry in which He commended His spirit into the hands of His Father.

I. “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”—Notice:

1. The invocation. The first utterance of Jesus was a prayer, and His first word “Father.” Was it not an unintentional condemnation of those who had affixed Him there? It was in the name of religion they had acted, and, in the name of God; but which of them was thus impregated through and through with religion? Which of them could pretend to a communion with God so close and habitual? It is a suspicious case when, in any trial, especially an ecclesiastical one, the condemned is obviously a better man than the judges. The word “Father,” further, proved that the faith of Jesus was unshaken by all through which He had passed, and by that which He was now enduring. Great saints have been driven, by the pressure of pain and disappointment, to challenge God’s righteousness in words which it is not lawful for a man to utter. But when the fortunes of Jesus were at the blackest He still said “Father.”

2. The petition. Our hearts burn with indignation at the treatment to which He was subjected. The comment of Jesus on it all was, “Father, forgive them.” Long ago, indeed, He had taught men, “Love your enemies, … and pray for them which despitefully use you.” And here He practised what He taught. He is the one teacher of mankind in whom the sentiment and the act completely coincide. His doctrine was the very highest; too high, it often seems, for this world But He proved that it can be realised on earth when He offered this prayer. Perhaps nothing is more difficult than to forgive. Even saints in the Old Testament curse those who have persecuted and wronged them, in terms of uncompromising severity. Had Jesus followed these, who would have ventured to find fault with Him? Even in that there might have been a revelation of God, because in the Divine nature there is a fire of wrath against sin. But how poor would such a revelation have been in comparison with the one which He now made! It told that God is love.

3. The argument. This allows us to see further still into the Divine depths of His love. The injured are generally alive only to their own side of the case, and they see only those circumstances which tend to place the conduct of the opposite party in the worst light. But at the moment when the pain inflicted by His enemies was at the worst Jesus was seeking excuses for their conduct. It is true of every sinner, in some measure, that he knows not what he does. And to a true penitent, as he approaches the throne of mercy, it is a great consolation to be assured that this plea will be allowed. God knows all our weakness and blindness; men will not make allowance for it, or even understand it, but He will understand it all, if we come to hide our guilty head in His bosom.

II. “To-day shalt thou be with Me in paradise.”—There was probably malice in the arrangement by which Jesus was hung between the two thieves. Yet there was a Divine purpose behind the wrath of man. Jesus came to the world to identify Himself with sinners; He had lived among them, and it was meet that He should die among them. It gave Him, too, an opportunity of illustrating, at the very last moment, both the magnanimity of His own character and the nature of His mission. As the parable of the Prodigal Son is an epitome of the whole teaching of Christ, so is the salvation of the thief on the cross the life of Christ in miniature. There is no reason to doubt either that this thief was a great sinner or that he was suddenly changed. And therefore his example will always be an encouragement to the worst of sinners when they repent. It is common for penitents to be afraid to come to God, because their sins have been too great to be forgiven; but those who are encouraging them can point to cases like Manasseh, and Mary Magdalene, and this, and assure them that the mercy which sufficed for these is sufficient for all: “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin.” How complete the revolution was in the penitent is shown by his own words. St. Paul, in one place, sums up Christianity in two things: repentance towards God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. And both of these we see in this penitent’s words. It is worth noting that it was not by words that Jesus converted this man. He did not address the penitent thief at all till the thief spoke to Him. The work of conviction was done before He uttered a word. Yet it was His work. It was by the impression of His patience, His innocence, His peace, and His magnanimity, that Jesus converted the man. Yet His words, when He did speak, added immensely to the impression. He accepted the homage of His petitioner; He spoke of the world unseen as of a place native and familiar. He gave him to understand that He possessed as much influence there as he attributed to Him. This great sinner laid on Christ the weight of his soul, the weight of his sins, the weight of his eternity; and Christ accepted the burden.

III. “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.”—

1. The final words of the dying Saviour was a prayer. It was not by chance that this was so, for the currents within Him were all flowing Godward. While prayer is appropriate for all times, there are occasions when it is singularly appropriate—at the close of day, in moments of mortal peril, at the Communion Table, and before death. On this last occasion it is more in its place than anywhere else. Then we are, perforce, parting with all that is earthly. How natural to lay hold of what alone we can keep hold of! And this is what prayer does; for it lays hold of God. Yet, natural as prayer is at that time, it is only so to those who have learned to pray before. It had long been to Jesus the language of life, and it was only the bias of the life asserting itself in death when, as He breathed His last, He turned to God.

2. The last word of the dying Saviour was a quotation from Scripture. If prayer is natural to the lips of the dying, so is Scripture. In the most sacred moments and transactions of life there is no language like that of the Bible. Especially is this the case in everything connected with death. In this supreme moment Jesus turned to the Psalms. This is undoubtedly the most precious of all the books of the Old Testament. It is a book penned as with the life-blood of its author; it is the record of humanity’s profoundest sorrows and sublimest ecstasies; it is the most perfect expression which has ever been given to experience; it has been the vade-mecum of all the saints; and to know and to love it is one of the best signs of spirituality.

3. It was about His spirit that the dying Saviour prayed. Dying persons are sometimes much taken up with their bodies, or with their worldly concerns. Nor did Jesus altogether refrain from bestowing attention on these things, for one of his sayings on the cross had reference to His bodily necessities, and another to His mother’s future comfort. But His supreme concern was His spirit, to the interests of which He devoted His final prayer. He placed it in the hands of God. There it was safe. Strong and secure are the hands of the Eternal. They are soft and loving too. With what a passion of tenderness must they have received the spirit of Jesus.

4. His last word revealed His view of death. The word used by Jesus in commending His spirit to God implies that He was giving it away in the hope of finding it again. He was making a deposit in a safe place, to which, after the crisis of death was over, He would come and recover it (cf. 2 Timothy 1:12). Death is a disruption of the parts of which human nature is composed. But Jesus was looking forward to a reunion of the separated parts, when they would again find each other, and the integrity of the personal life be restored. His dying word proves that He believed for Himself what He taught to others. Not only, however, has He, by His teaching, brought life and immortality to light; He is Himself the guarantee of the doctrine; for He is our immortal life. “Because I live,” He has said, “ye shall live also.”—Stalker.

SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS ON Luke 23:32

Luke 23:32. “Two others.”—Probably these had been former associates of Barabbas, in whose place Jesus was crucified. They were, as it were, assigned as subjects to “the King of the Jews,” in order to mock His claims. Yet one of them did actually become His subject. God added fresh glory to His Son by causing the wrath of men to turn to His praise.

Luke 23:33. “One on the right hand.”—The very cross was the tribunal of Christ, for the Judge was placed in the middle; one thief, who believed, was set free; the other, who reviled, was condemned: which signified what He was already about to do with the quick and dead, being about to set some on His right hand, and some on the left.”—Hall.

Christ Crucified.

I. There they crucified Him.

II. There they crucified Him.

III. There they crucified Him.

IV. There they crucified Him.—Young.

The Three Crosses.

I. We shall look at the two crosses upon which the malefactors suffered.—

1. We consider the crucifixion of the malefactors as the protest of human society against rebellion, in the vindication of its own life, and of the sacredness of its own laws. This was a terrible punishment, even to malefactors, who were evidently men of the lowest type. They were looked upon as the recognised enemies of human society. The worst punishment civilisation could inflict upon, and the most terrible weapon it could use toward, those who, by their desperate conduct, had forfeited existence, was the cross. We know of what type these malefactors were—not thieves, as the A.V. gives it, but robbers or brigands; men who never considered aught binding in their war with their fellows. These men belonged to that terrible class which becomes the pest of oppressive governments or ill-regulated human communities, just as epidemics are the outcome of bad sanitation, or the neglect of the first laws of health. These belonged to a class of men who represent all the desperation of which grinding poverty is capable, and all the degradation which irresponsibility can produce. Thus in these two crosses—losing sight for the present of the great central Cross—we have human society’s vindication of its own life and its own laws.

2. We also find here the triumph of justice over rule and rebellious force. This is so far gratifying. Thus the crosses upon which the malefactors were crucified were the safety of society and the vindication of law. In those crosses we see the due reward of human criminality, the last weapons that society, and the justice of the community, could use. Justice, having failed to restore, can only destroy. Justice can do no more. Thus in these two cases we have the triumph of human society and human government over men who otherwise would lay the earth waste, and make countries a devastation.

II. We next view the central cross, upon which Christ died.—That cross taught a very different lesson from that which was taught by the other crosses. The other crosses revealed the criminality of those who suffered, but

(1) That central cross revealed the sinfulness and criminality of those who crucified the Innocent One.

2. This cross bears a relationship with every man. Since He who died upon it died not as a criminal, not even as one who was falsely condemned, or as a martyr only, but as one who was vindicated by His own judge, who found “no fault in Him,” and vindicated by the very man who betrayed Him, and who exclaimed, “I have betrayed innocent blood.” One who did no crime against man—yea, no sin against God: “He did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth.”

3. This, too, was a death which He voluntarily accepted, though He had the power to escape it. It was not the infliction of death upon one who could not withstand the power that inflicted it. It was the death of One who beforehand said, and gave this as the clue to His disciples of the nature of His Cross and passion, “I lay down My life, that I might take it again.” I accept, then, that central Cross, as telling of sin; but as telling of it in a very different way from the other crosses.

4. In the Cross of Christ I find the greatest condemnation of sin. I find there the greatest and most awful revelation of the possibilities of human sinfulness.

5. But it also tells of more than that. As the Cross was the condemnation of man and the revelation of human guilt, so was it the revelation of a Divine love that triumphed over all the guilt, ingratitude, and hatred, of men in a sacrifice that knew of no reserve, even the death of the Lord’s Anointed One.

III. And now let us look at the relationship between that cross and the two other crosses.—There was one man who died impenitent—one man who sank deeper and deeper into the iniquity in which he had already sunk so low, and defied every sacred influence; one, moreover, who was not overcome by those things that overcame the centurion who presided over the execution; and, finally, one who was not touched by the protest of that fellow-sufferer who, though as sinful as himself, could no longer resist, but pleaded with him in the earnestness of a fresh conviction—pleaded in tones which quivered alike with the agony of suffering and with the earnestness of a new belief, but died an impenitent and hardened sinner. There was another cross, upon which was to be seen the penitent one, who at first found expression in the blasphemy which came from both malefactors, but who at length paused as he felt the drawing power of Him who died on that central Cross, and then at every risk became the first vindicator of that great Sufferer in the presence of the chief priests and scribes who mocked, and an angry multitude who beat like a furious storm around those crosses. He became the first to rebuke blasphemy in the presence of the Cross, and then in the additional light that comes to every man who acts up to the light that he has already received, turned to the crucified Christ and exclaimed, “Lord, remember me when Thou comest in Thy kingdom.” Thus, there are exhibited here two typical attitudes towards Jesus Christ. Now, the world to-day is represented by the one or the other—the impenitent, who is still untouched; and the penitent, who breaks down in the presence of the Cross. There is no third class.—Davies.

Luke 23:34. “Father.”—With this name both the first and the last (seventh) saying upon the cross opens.

“Father, forgive.”—A model prayer.

I. God addressed as Father.
II. Forgiveness of sin the chiefest benefit to be asked for.
III. Inspired by love, even for enemies.
“Know not what they do.”—This suggests a motive for forgiveness—that of pity—and not the ground of forgiveness. Ignorance may be a palliation of guilt, but does not remove it, or else no prayer for forgiveness would be needed.

Ignorance is

(1) a plea for forgiveness;
(2) yet is culpable and needs forgiveness.

The First Word.

I. Sin needs forgiveness.

II. Forgiveness is obtainable.

III. The great Intercessor pleads for it.—Ireland.

I. His first word was no cry of pain.

II. His first word pleads for His murderers.

III. His first word was the beginning of an intercession that is still going on.

IV. His first word teaches us a great lesson on Christian forgiveness.—Miller.

Ignorance in Doing Wrong.—“Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” These words, so full of pathos and Christian spirit, are the words of our Christ while He was being fastened to the cross, or while in agony upon it. They breathe the noble spirit of love to man, even to bitterest enemies, whose cruel acts spoke the hatred of their hearts. “Forgive them!” How deep must have been the love of that noble heart! “They know not what they do.” How clear was the spiritual vision of that great soul! That heart knew sorrow, but not hatred. That soul saw the right, and knew that no temporal eclipse could put wrong on the everlasting throne. It has been well said that “the brave only know how to forgive.” The power of forgiving flows only from a strength and greatness of soul. These words may apply to the people—the unthinking mass, easily led for good or bad. They may apply to the obedient tools of power—the Roman soldiers—those who were His immediate crucifiers. Or Pilate may have been most prominent in Jesus’ mind,—poor, weak creature, with the semblance of greatness, but without the real thing. His outward exterior belied the weak soul within. Perhaps it is Caiaphas who needs the prayer—the man who ought to speak the word of truth and justice; the really strong man, with a fixed purpose, and with means to attain that purpose. Jesus meant all. All were men in error and sin. But did not these, one and all, know what they were doing? How far the people knew it is difficult to say. They gave little time to any careful thought over the matter. Their leaders demanded the life of this Jesus. Right or wrong, they followed their leaders. Small aims, little policies, poor, superficial reasons, satisfied them. The immediate present was all they saw. The Roman soldiers were trained to obey: this was their first duty. Not for them to reason why, but to do. They were, as are all soldiers, mere instruments of higher powers. They were the brute and blind means by which the higher powers maintained themselves. But, for all this prayer, these people and soldiers knew better than they acted; they did not live up to what little Divine light they had. They must stand in judgment, and receive their well-merited stripes. Pilate did know what he was doing. He knew he was twisting, in his weakness, the Roman law (which had some bit of justice in it) to please the Jews, whose governor he was. He trembled before the cry of the priests: “If thou let this man go, thou art not Cæsar’s friend.” He sought outside, not inside, approval. He thought more of public opinion, of the opinion of the great, than of the opinion he could have of himself. He sacrificed moral integrity on the altar of power. Let Pilate be Cæsar’s friend at all cost, though to be so he violated Cæsar’s law. Pilate thus far knew what he was doing, He was thinking of his own hold on the governorship of Judæa. Those in power know what they are doing. We need waste no pity on them. They know that the one thought is not the benefit of man or country, but how to maintain themselves in powerful places. There is no need to ransack history—to tell of the deeds of tyrants, of their trampling down by their soldiers the mass of human kind, of their courts and judgments. History is full until it flows over with examples. We must get power, we must hold on to power, by all means. Let God and man, and country and justice, and truth and integrity, go. Let all that is held to be principle be crucified. You cannot pray, “Forgive them: they know not what they do.” They do know. And that is the worst of it. Caiaphas and the hierarchy knew what they were doing. This gentle rabbi, Jesus, who would get at the spirit under the ceremony, who laid so little stress on form, who would have men come direct to God as children, was really a destroyer of the Temple worship and of priestly power. He represented the new, larger, freer thought; they, the old, outgrown thought. He stood for progress, they for stagnation. They were wise men; they would use the enactments of men to thwart the laws of God. If they did not enforce these ordinances, the Temple would go, the service would go, the people would no longer worship the God of their fathers, Moses would be dishonoured, the prophets despised, and holy Judaism, purchased at fearful cost, would be a thing forgotten. Let, therefore, this young man be silenced, and, if it must be, by death. Let the old crush this destroying new. They knew well what they were doing. In the same sense the men who, all along our trail of blood called history, have sent their fellows to death, knew what they were doing. They knew what they were doing, or, to be more exact, they thought they knew. But did they know, after all? Let us see. In the broad sweep of the question, did they know? Of course, the blind mass did not know. Nor do they know now; and, in their ignorance, they commit crime and do acts of folly. Those who do know suffer through the ignorance of the ignorant. When one stops and thinks that he is the product of his age—his age with all its blindness, folly, and sin; when he thinks that his soul and its everlasting destiny is being moulded by his surroundings, and that his surroundings include the besotted, the knaves, the brutish, and the brutal,—he may bestir himself to improve these surroundings, to make better his age. He feels the great solemnity of the prayer of Jesus when applied to these darkened masses. “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” They know not the real nature of sin or the majesty of Divine justice. Nor did the soldiers know what they were doing. They thought they were carrying out the law, whereas they were the blind instruments of cruelty and injustice. It is a sad picture, this yielding up of will and moral responsibility to a supposed superior. It is a most dangerous thing, and it has ever, in the end, proved a terrible thing to the weak. It is something to make one pause when one really takes in the thought of thousands, hundreds of thousands, of men yielding up to another will their wills and consciences. It gives food for reflection when these thousands practically say, “Think for me. Be responsible to humanity and God for me. I will act. I will dye my hands in blood, guilty and innocent. Only be thou responsible.” They did not know that, no matter what may be the customs and ordinances of nations, no man can shift to another his responsibility to man and God. Pilate—did he really know what he was doing? In one way, yes; but, in a deeper way, no. He fancied he was upholding Roman power. The majesty of human law asserted itself in him. He thought that human ordinances were final. He knew not that at the back of these arose, as clouds of threatening darkness and as clouds of approving light, the everlasting principles of justice. Pilate was a lawyer, and most naturally confounded the judgments of men with the wisdom of God. He thought that to apply human ordinances was the only way to order and good government. He forgot, or never knew, that government is a means, not an end. In the interest of his earthly empire he was blinded to the deeper interest of the kingdom of God. He saw the Roman army, the Roman power, the Roman law. He did not see higher powers and Diviner principles than had then or have now found their way into human ordinances. Poor, blinded man. And Caiaphas! Oh, we pity him! His name and memory have suffered. His deed has brought down upon the heads of noble men, pure women, and innocent children the curses and cruelties of the ignorant and bigoted. Poor priest, of a once great religion, the one who was to lead to hope, to faith, to duty, leads to hate, death, and destruction. He fancied that religion was a thing of the outer man, not the living principle of the soul. He did not see that God can uphold His own cause. He needs no man’s crime to assist Him. He called for the death of one greater than the Temple, greater than all the Temple’s ritual, greater than Moses,—a new man, with a new, large word from the God in heaven and the God in the human soul. He knew not what he did. When we think of Pilate and Caiaphas, the men in power, on whose will the lives of their fellows depended; when we think of their dense ignorance;—we pity our humanity, and them with it. Men find it a most difficult lesson to learn that you may slay men, but you cannot thus take the life of God out of those deep, fundamental principles on which all life rests, and by which all life is sustained,—those fundamentals that make thought possible, that regulate the moral universe. These are as eternal as God is eternal. Men may come, men may go; but these abide for ever. So runs the law of God, Oh, how real, then, the prayer, “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do”! These men, one and all—people, soldiers, governor and priests—knew and did not know. They knew better than they lived up to, but they were ignorant of the great fact that God’s laws are eternal. Their ignorance is their excuse. It is also their crime. God pities man’s ignorance, but God’s law punishes that same ignorance. We do not know. Let Him forgive. But we ought to know. Ignorance is often our own fault as well as our only excuse. But, ignorant or wise, there is mercy. Beneath and above the blindness of the people, the submissive obedience of the soldiers, the folly of the governor, and the bigotry of the priest, is the Divine pity. Oh, the mighty heart which, with its flowing blood, cried out for this forgiveness to its enemies! From it we may gather, not all its grandeur, but a small portion of its power of love to man.—Walkley.

The Calmness and Justice of Christ upon the Cross.—Dying is just a part of living—sometimes a long part, often a hard part. With Christ, life and death were all of a piece—simple and calm. Even on the cross He took up things in order, and gently. His first word was about His enemies.

I. Forgiveness is His first thought in death.—The ruling thought of His mission, men’s need of it, and how they could have it.

II. Pain shakes the sense of justice.—Christ suffered agony unspeakable. But His sense of justice was unaffected. He judged as scrupulously as He will from His white throne. He apportioned degrees of guilt.

III. The men who nailed Him had little knowledge of Him.—They were nearly as much instruments, we might say, as the nails they hammered. But even the smallest knowledge of Christ brings responsibility. How much more a full knowledge! With what measure shall those be judged who claim a true and just acquaintance with Christ?—Nicoll.

The Unselfish Christ.—His voice is heard—not of anger or resentment, but of pleading intercession.

I. He finds an excuse for those who pierced Him.—The most glorious instance of a Divine unselfishness—of an absolute self-sacrifice. His self-sacrifice rises into the sublimer region of a literal self-forgetfulness: enough, surely, of itself, to explain how Jesus Christ, coming to minister to all the diseases of humanity, has a right to undertake the treatment and cure of this particular disease of selfishness.

II. How does He heal us of this malady of selfishness?—Is not the question half answered in the asking? He was unselfishness. Selfishness and He cannot co-exist. In the heavenly glory He still forgets Himself in the sorrows of His “brethren.”

III. To see Him, to be united to Him, to be one with Him—this is to be a Christian.—This is to be like Him in His unselfishness. When Christ came to bear our sins, He not only took away by His cross the mid-wall of guilt between each man and his God; He also took away the mid-wall of selfishness between each man and his brother. He made that possible in all cases to Christian love which was impossible before in any case to the natural. Selfishness is done away with by the introduction of a new self which embraces and comprehends us all.—Vaughan.

The Forgiveness of the Cross.—

I. One thing is not said here, nor anywhere else, by the Saviour.—There is no confession of sin, and no cry for personal forgiveness. He neither did, nor could, pray for His own forgiveness. He did pray for the pardon of others.

II. We are taught here the simple and primary duty of the forgiveness of injuries.—Christ seems to be almost more exacting in relation to forgiveness than in relation to purity.

III. A limit is affixed to Christ’s prayer.—Who come within the scope of the word, within the embrace of this appeal? The prayer included the executioners and the Jewish chiefs and rulers. And perhaps it reaches out to a wider area. But there is no charter of universalism in the prayer—no assurance that all sin will be remitted and every sinner forgiven. No doubt, however, ignorance lessens the guilt of sin, but it does not obliterate it. If the sinner could always say boldly, “I knew not,” then there would have been no need for this intercession of the Mediator.—Alexander.

Luke 23:34; Luke 23:43; Luke 23:46. Luke’s Record of the Words from the Cross.—

I. The beauty of forgiving tenderness.

II. The beauty of pardoning power.

III. The beauty of perfect peace—Ibid.

Luke 23:35. “Cast lots.”—Lots would be cast for the division among the four soldiers of the robe, the turban, the girdle, and the sandals of Jesus, and then again for disposing of His tunic which, as the other gospels tell us, was of some special value.

“He saved others.”—This may be ironical, or it is a recognition of His miracles of mercy, to taunt Him with a supposed loss of His power just when He needed it most for Himself. His very mercy is used in mockery.

“The chosen of God.”—The epithet describes Christ as appointed beforehand by God for the realisation of His plans for Israel and for the world. Cf. Luke 9:35.

Luke 23:37. “The soldiers also mocked Him,” etc.—In deriding the claim of Christ to be a king, probably both the soldiers, who offered Him a mock homage, and Pilate, who drew up the title upon the cross, desired rather to give expression to their contempt for the Jewish people than to insult the Saviour.

Luke 23:39. The Experience of the Malefactor.

I. As a convert.—

1. The previous character of the penitent enhances the greatness of his conversion.
2. The unlikelihood of his conversion in the special circumstances of the case.
3. The suddenness with which it was produced.
4. The completeness and maturity by which it was marked.
5. The scantiness of the means by which it was effected.

II. As a witness.

III. As a suppliant.—Cairns.

The Penitent and Christ.—

I. The penitent

(1) humbly acknowledges his guilt;
(2) eagerly seeks for salvation; and
(3) courageously confesses His Saviour.

II. The Saviour

(1) pardons the guilt;
(2) hears the prayer; and
(3) bestows a reward far in excess of the penitent’s hopes or expectations.

Despair and Faith.—Compare the despairing cry “Save Thyself and us” with the humble petition, “Lord, remember me.”

Abundant Teaching of This in Advent.—We have here

(1) a most wonderful illustration of the glory and grace of the Saviour;
(2) a striking example of the efficacy of prayer;
(3) an antidote to despair;
(4) a proof of nearness and reality of the spiritual world.

Encouragement and Warning.

I. The case of the penitent thief shows that conversion is possible, even at the last hour.
II. The case of the impenitent thief shows the danger of postponing conversion to the last hour.

All the Elements of Genuine Conversion Present.—Brief as the utterance of the penitent thief was, yet there is nothing lacking to it that belongs to the unalterable requirements of a genuine conversion: sense of guilt, confession of sin, simple faith, active love, supplicating hope—all these fruits of the tree of the new life we see here ripen during a few moments.—Van Oosterzee.

No Encouragement to Delay Repentance.—His case affords no encouragement to any one to put off repentance to a death-bed. Our faith cannot come up to that of this penitent, for our condition is very different from his. We have seen Christ’s glorious resurrection and ascension into heaven. We have received the Holy Ghost from heaven. He had none of these benefits. He saw Christ deserted by His disciples and dying on the cross, and yet He confessed Him as a King, and prayed to Him as his Lord.—Wordsworth.

A Witness for Christ Raised Up.—This is a comfortable symbol and example for all Christendom, that God will never let faith in Christ, and the confession of His name, go down. If the disciples as a body, and those who were otherwise related to Jesus, confess not and lose their faith, deny Him in fear, are offended, and forsake Him—a malefactor or murderer must come forward to confess Him, to preach Him to others, and teach all men who He is, and what consolation all may find in Him.—Luther.

Luke 23:40.

1. The penitent malefactor.—

1. His expostulation with his companion in suffering.
2. His confession of guilt.
3. His recognition of Christ’s innocence.
4. The faith, humility, and earnestness, manifested in his prayer to Christ.

II. The gracious Redeemer.—

1. He has sympathy for others in the midst of His own dire sufferings.
2. He anticipates entrance upon a state of blessedness.
3. He is conscious of power to open the gate of Paradise to others,
4. He gives far more than was asked from Him.

Luke 23:40. “Dost not thou fear God?”—The thought of the Divine justice before which he was so shortly to appear might well cause him to refrain from mocking his fellow-sufferer: the thoughtless crowd were under no such restraint.

Luke 23:41. “Hath done nothing amiss.”—Even had the robber said nothing more than this, yet he would awaken our deepest astonishment, that God—in a moment wherein literally all voices are raised against Jesus, and not a friendly word is heard in His favour—causes a witness for the spotless innocence of the Saviour to appear on one of the crosses beside Him.—Van Oosterzee.

Luke 23:42. The Absolution of the Cross.

I. The assurance.—There is absolute certainty in it. Christ’s especial utterance is, not “I think,” but “I say.”

II. The promise.—It is twofold:

1. A gracious promise of the abridgment of suffering.

2. The better part. More than the penitent thief thought of or asked for. Not possibly, in some remote future and vaguely, but verily, to-day, and close to Himself.

III. The revelation.—This is one of Luke’s words of revelation, unveiling. It is the great dictum probans for the rest of the saints in Paradise. To say “in heaven” would be inaccurate. Oh the preciousness of the hope which enfolds our dead in Christ, ever since the dying Lord said to the dying penitent “to-day in Paradise”! What speed, what rest, what companionship!—Alexander.

“With Me in Paradise.”

I. What did the robber expect?—That they two would die. That the long trance would come; that the wrong would be righted at last; and that when it was, Jesus would be Lord. And then, “Have a thought of me.”

II. What was the answer?—“When I go to My kingdom, thou shalt keep Me company, and that before the setting of the sun.” The prayer was great, but the answer was greater still. We may suppose that the robber did not understand much of the word “Paradise,” but he understood the word “with Me,” and it was enough. If the prayer was like a river, the answer was as a great sea.—Nicoll.

I. The word of the dying thief.

II. The word of the dying Lord.—Ireland.

Luke 23:42. The Dying Thief.

I. We see here an illustration of the cross, in its power of drawing men to itself.

II. We have here the cross, as pointing to and foretelling the kingdom.

III. Here is the cross as revealing and opening the true Paradise.—Maclaren.

The Penitent Thief.

I. What he thought of himself.

II. What he thought of Christ.

III. What Christ thought of him.

Luke 23:43. “To-day.”—The penitent thief could scarcely have expected death on that day, for those crucified often lingered several days upon the cross. The breaking of the legs of the two who suffered with Christ secured the fulfilment of this prophecy and promise. Thus the enemies of Christ unconsciously brought about the fulfilment of Christ’s words.

I. A place in Paradise.

II. The presence of Christ with Him in Paradise.

III. An entrance with Him into Paradise that very day.

Luke 23:44. “There was a darkness,” etc.—There is evidently something extraordinary in these phenomena, whether their exceptional character is to be ascribed to a supernatural cause, or simply to a providential coincidence. It is impossible to ignore the profound relation which exists, on the one hand, between man and nature, and, on the other, between humanity and Christ. For man is the soul of the world, as Christ is the soul of humanity.—Godet.

Luke 23:45. “The veil of the temple was rent.”—

1. This was a type of the violent rending of Christ’s body on the cross (Hebrews 10:20).

2. It typified our Lord’s own entrance into heaven (Hebrews 9:24).

3. It intimated that the ceremonies of the Law were abolished.
4. That the distinction between Jew and Gentile was at an end.
5. That there was freedom of access to the throne of grace.

6. That Christ had opened up, by His death, an entrance into heaven for all His followers (Hebrews 9:7).—Foote.

The Temple no longer the Abode of God.—Was not this sign meant to show that the Temple was no longer the abode of God? As the high priest rent his robe in the presence of a great scandal, so God rent the veil which covers the Holy of Holies, where formerly He had manifested Himself. It implied a desecration of the most holy place, and consequently of the Temple, with its courts and altar and sacrifices. The Temple is profaned, abolished by God Himself. The efficacy of sacrifice has henceforth passed to another blood, another altar, and a new order of priesthood. This fact is implied in the declaration of Jesus: “Slay Me, and you will thereby have destroyed this Temple.”—Godet.

Luke 23:46. Last Words.

I. Christ’s work as Redeemer was done.—His previous word, “It is finished” marked its completion. Now He is ready to return to His Father. Before Him lies the mystery of death.

II. Here we see His calm, trustful faith.—The terrible struggle is over, and He is at perfect peace. His use of the word “Father” shows that His soul has recovered its serenity. The darkness is gone. The Father’s face beams upon His in loving approval.

III. A picture of Christian dying.—It was but a breathing of the spirit into the hands of the heavenly Father. It is natural to regard death as a strange experience. What is it? Where shall we be when we escape from the body? Will it be dark or light? Shall we be alone or accompanied? Here comes this word of our Lord, and we learn that the soul, when it leaves the body, passes at once into the Father’s hands. Surely that is enough for us to know. We shall be perfectly and eternally safe if we are in our Father’s keeping. If we think thus of death, it will have no terrors for us.—Miller.

The Peace of the Cross.

I. The view of death taken by the Lord Jesus.—Not fate: irresistible and irrevocable necessity. Not impersonal absorption into the universal life, or positivist immortality of a subjective character. His death comes as from a Father’s love. He has the assurance of life in definite personality, the true life of the spirit after the body has gone down into the grave. It is free, spontaneous, unhesitating surrender. The deposit must be safe that is lodged with such a Depository.

II. The use to be made of Scripture during the approach of death.—One chief employment of Scripture is for the dying. Scripture is not only a rule of life. How much of it is of use for the spirit in dying!

III. This word supplies an answer to an objection not seldom made to the Atonement.—How the Atonement effects its object we are not told. But this last word attests how willingly Jesus died. There was no reluctance, no repugnance, no shrinking, no compulsion. His dying word shows how true was His own repeated declaration, “I lay down My life.”—Alexander.

I. The work of the Dying One.

II. The attitude of the Dying One.

1. Making satisfaction for sin.
2. Alone with the Father.

III. The spirit of the Dying One.—

1. Voluntary surrender.
2. Obedient love and holy peace.

IV. Our interest in the death and dying word of Jesus.—A lesson

(1) for dying,
(2) for living.—Ireland.

“Into Thy hands.”—The Father receives the spirit of Jesus; Jesus receives the spirits of the faithful (Acts 7:59).

“I commend My spirit.”—At the moment when He is about to lose self-consciousness, and feels that His spirit is passing away, He commits it in trust to His Father.

Luke 23:47. The Effects Produced upon Spectators by the Death of Christ.—

1. Upon the Roman centurion.
2. Upon the people.
3. Upon His adherents.

Luke 23:47. “A righteous man.”—More than mere innocence of the charge on which He suffered is implied in this testimony. Jesus had claimed to be the Son of God, and if He were righteous He must be more than man. Hence the form in which St. Luke gives this testimony is in virtual agreement with that in which it is reported by St. Matthew and St. Mark: “Truly this was the Son of God.”

Luke 23:48. “That sight.”—They came, from motives of curiosity, to look on that spectacle, but they depart with feelings of awe and alarm.

“Smote their breasts.”—As the exclamation of the centurion is an anticipation of the conversion of the pagan world, so also the consternation which seizes upon the Jews, who witness this scene, is an anticipation of the penitence and final conversion of that nation (Zechariah 12:10).—Godet.

Luke 23:49. “All His acquaintance.”—In what mood they now stood there, after they were now no longer hindered by the scoffings of the people from coming near, may be better felt than described. With the deepest sorrow over this irrevocable loss, which was not yet softened by the joyful hope of the resurrection, there is united melancholy joy that now at last the agonising conflict is ended, and the heart-felt longing to render now the last honours to the inaminate corpse.—Van Oosterzee.

The Ministering Women.

I. These were the earliest of a great and noble army of Christian women, attached to Christ by deep personal love, following and ministering unto Him.

II. Woman has always been grateful, to Christ, and has served Him with great devotion.

III. There is a field everywhere for woman’s ministry.

IV. Let every woman imitate this company, by following Christ.—Miller.