Sermon: SIMON OF CYRENE

First preached: April 9, 1995

The sermon I posted last week was from my Lenten series of 1995 for the Third Sunday in Lent. The sermon I am posting today is actually from the Sixth Sunday in Lent of that year. I have no idea anymore what happened to the sermons from the Fourth and Fifth Sundays or if I even preached on those Sundays … and if I didn’t, why.

This sermon took me way out of my comfort zone. I am not a “drama” person and the whole idea of doing something in that vain has always made me incredibly nervous. But apparently, on this particular Sunday, I decided to enter the drama world. I am 90% sure I wrote the monologue. I don’t remember if I dressed in character that day or if I had actually memorized this. It is a mystery. But I did it. And I’m impressed I tried it. As you will discover this is a portrayal of Simon of Cyrene as he reflects back on the moment he carried Jesus’ cross on the way to Jesus’ crucifixion.

Enjoy the sermon. And for those of you who know me, imagine me acting this out because that’s the closest I will ever come to being a recognized actor.

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Scripture Reading: Mark 15:16-24 (NRSVue)

Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters), and they called together the whole cohort. And they clothed him in a purple cloak, and after twisting some thorns into a crown they put it on him. And they began saluting him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him. They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. And they crucified him and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take.

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I am Simon, known in your New Testament as Simon from Cyrene. I have quite a story to tell you today and I will do that but first let me tell you a little bit about my background. It might help in understanding what I and my story are all about.

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Like I said I was from Cyrene. Cyrene was a Greek city on the north coast of Africa, founded about 630 BC by Greeks. We were an agricultural center. You are probably aware that in North Africa the only good land then and now lies on the coast ‑‑ a few miles inland and everything turns to desert. Back in my time we had a royal monopoly on a plant called silphium, much in demand as a spice and medicine. I was a silphium merchant, which meant I travelled a lot.

I was a Jew. You might ask how me and my family ended up living in this Greek community. Actually, some 500 years before I ever came to be my family lived near to Jerusalem. But in about 600 B.C. the Babylonians conquered us, destroying our land and worst of all destroying Jersualem and our temple. At the time they gathered up the strongest people and the best workers and scattered us throughout their empire. My ancestors were among that group. Generations past and when the Roman empire spread over much of the area around the Mediterranean Sea, the Romans again began moving people around. Again my ancestors were affected. This time they were sent to Cyrene, which is how I ended up being from North Africa.

In all these moves, my family kept their faith. Rabbi's taught the scriptures and wherever they moved they always set up a synagogue in the middle of the community to serve as a church school . Our religion was important to my ancestors and became important to me as well. From the generations who watched the Babylonians destroy the temple to my own generation we longed for the day when the temple would be rebuilt and we could worship in Jerusalem again. It actually happened during my lifetime. So it became my personal dream to someday travel from Cyrene to Jerusalem and worship in the temple.

As I look back on my life I can't believe how things worked out so that my dream could come true.

Did I mention I was a silphium merchant? I thought so. Did I mention that I travelled a lot? Good. I've told this story so often I have a hard time keeping the facts straight.

Now where was I? Oh, yes. As my trade area increased I finally had the opportunity to do business in Egypt and up into Palestine. I was excited. I would be able to visit my Jewish homeland and see Jerusalem after all. Not only did that become a possibility but I worked things out so that I would be able to be in Jerusalem during the Passover Feast.

You see, at least once in our lifetime it was the desire of every devout Jew to attend the Passover in Jerusalem. The Passover was our time to remember and give glory to God for our deliverance from the hands of the Egyptians and the angel of death. You probably remember from your own religious education that the last plague God brought upon the Egyptians to force them to let the children of Israel go was the death of their first born children.

On that night, every Jewish family killed an unblemished lamb. They took the blood of the lamb and wiped it around their doorway. They had been instructed by God to do this as a sign. When the angel of death came into Egypt that night, he killed the first born of all those who did not have the sign over their door. Later in the wilderness, God instructed us to celebrate by beginning the Passover with a meal. We ate the lamb as a sacrifice and we ate a herb named endive to remind us of the bitter suffering we had in Egypt for 400 years.

How did I get off on that tangent? Sorry for rambling, you probably knew all this anyway.

You have probably figured out that going to Jerusalem was important for me. That's for sure, but little did I know how that trip would change my life. As I approached, I saw a great crowd coming through the city. They were following a Roman guard. The soldiers surrounded and pushed three beaten men. It was an execution. I'll tell you, if the Romans were good at anything they were good at executions. That's how they kept control of the people they had conquered. They simply executed the rebellious ones.

One of the three men didn't seem to fit the description of a rebel. He was straining under the load of the heavy cross piece he was forced to carry. As he got close to where I was standing, I could see that he had been beaten worse - far worse - than the other two. It looked like the work of sadistic soldiers. On his head was a crown of thorns. The thorns had been firmly pushed into his scalp. Blood was running down into his face. He stumbled right in front of me and fell to the ground. On his back I could see the cuts of the whip. It was no wonder that he was weak. If he had received the usual 39 lashes, all his strength had been taken from him.

I was so intent looking at this beaten man I didn't see the soldier approach me. He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into the middle of the street next to the man lying on the ground. I protested, but that didn't make any difference. I told him I was just a bystander, a foreigner, a merchant from Cyrene. But the the soldier couldn't care less. He commanded me to pick up the cross piece and carry it for the man. It was then that I first heard his name. They called him Jesus of Nazareth. I could see it was no use arguing. These soldiers were like the soldiers back home. They never put up with protesting. I picked up the plank of wood and carried it.

We got to a hill called Golgotha where they stopped us. This man Jesus was behind me. I looked at him in the face. I was surprised by what I saw. Instead of fear or anger or the usual reaction of a condemned man, I saw peace and determination. It was as if this was the way it was supposed to be. They grabbed him. They stripped off his coat and torn clothing. They put the cross together and nailed him to it. The Romans were cruel beyond imagination.

I stood with the others watching. My emotions were running wild. On the one hand I was angry. I was angry at the Romans. I was angry for this uncomfortable interruption in my journey. On the other hand I felt awe and wonder. I suppose I should have felt pity but I was puzzled by this Jesus for whom I had carried the cross. There was something different about him. I just couldn't leave. I felt I needed to stay.

After what seemed to be quite a while, Jesus spoke for the first time. I still remember the tone of voice and his exact words. I mean how could anyone forget them. They were totally unexpected. He didn't speak to the soldiers. He didn't speak to his friends crying nearby. He lifted his eyes to heaven and said, "Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they are doing." Forgive them? Forgiveness would not have been the first thing on my mind if I had been nailed to that cross.

I have thought about that man and the scene and those words many times. Here was a man who obviously didn't deserve the punishment he received, but he didn't fight back. Instead, he asked forgiveness for his tormentors.

I had always been taught in my religious training, "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." But he was teaching love for his enemies. I've never been the same since.

I don't know if I can forgive completely, but I know I must try. When other people ridicule me, I can turn the other cheek. I saw in this Jesus that love conquers hatred - that love is a powerful weapon. Jesus used that weapon that day. They didn't win, he won.

You and I can win, too. We don't win by fighting back. We win by giving complete love. Jesus taught me that God is love. Jesus taught me the only way to win is through love. This is the lesson I learned carrying the cross. May my lesson be your lesson.