The rulers sneered at Jesus and said,
"He saved others, let him save himself
if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God."
They admitted that he saved others. They knew that he was no ordinary man. His opponents had by then accused him of using the power of demons to cast out demons (see Matthew 12:24). They had even planned to have Lazarus killed again after they heard that Jesus raised him from the dead (see John 12:9-11). Yet, because of all of this, they couldn't just let him go quietly to his own death. They were frustrated. He saved others but he seemingly refused to save himself. They had the sense, and were correct, that he could have done so if he desired. He was instead acting with a perfect kingly composure and freedom. Precisely in order to save others he would not choose to save himself. Almost every other human act ever undertaken was motivated at least partially by selfishness. But this choice of Jesus was motivated entirely by love. Superficially, it seemed that Jesus was being forced to his death. But there was nothing coerced about his choice to remain in their power. It seemed, superficially, to be a part of their plan. But their own words expressed their dissatisfaction with their plan, as they gradually came to sense it was being used to facilitate a larger plan.
"If you are King of the Jews, save yourself."
Above him there was an inscription that read,
"This is the King of the Jews."
People simply couldn't tolerate a king who used his power and freedom for the sake of love. Power and the willingness to suffer for others seemed to be mutually exclusive. The purpose of power for most people was precisely to prevent the need for them to ever have to suffer. Thus they were infuriated and terrified when they saw the way Jesus used his own power. Looking at him on the cross they all seemed to be able to discern that he was still somehow in charge. But they were not all happy about it. It seemed as though their egos were terrified. Soldiers might have been able to reconcile dying during a struggle on the field of battle. But they could not accept the free surrender by which Jesus offered his life.
Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying,
"Are you not the Christ?
Save yourself and us."
Most criminals eventually regretted the consequences of their choices. But they desired to be saved from those consequences without any regret for becoming the person they had, without any real desire to change. Such people often demand that Jesus change their circumstances, but not their hearts. They try to manipulate Jesus, knowing that he does desire to save others, in order to compel him to give them salvation as they define it. But it would have ultimately accomplished very little if Jesus had simply released this unrepentant criminal from the cross. It may, if anything, have provided time for him to become even worse, and to eventually meet a fate even worse than crucifixion.
"Have you no fear of God,
for you are subject to the same condemnation?
And indeed, we have been condemned justly,
for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes,
but this man has done nothing criminal."
We need to be sufficiently converted so that we can recognize that we can't demand anything of Jesus. Everything we seem to have in our favor, with which we might bargain, is actually already his gift. And we have all in some measure squandered that gift. We are all culpable to some extent. We are in no position to tell Jesus how he should save us. We lack any kind of expertise in the matter, as we have by now demonstrated. But, fantastically, our lack of deserving and our guilt, when acknowledged, free us to receive the salvation that Jesus himself does indeed desire to give.
Then he said,
"Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
He replied to him,
"Amen, I say to you,
today you will be with me in Paradise."
The unrepentant thief who told Jesus to save him implied a whole definition of salvation that was flawed and shortsighted. The repentant thief, by contrast, asked only that Jesus remember him. This statement was a profound act of surrender. It left anything beyond the remembrance securely in the hands of Jesus, trusting that, if he did remember him, anything else that should happen as a consequence of that would happen.
The cross is the place where Jesus, having been lifted up, draws us all to himself (see John 12:32). It was not a detour or delay before he began to reign as king. He was never revealed so profoundly to be king as when he reigned from the cross. The cross is a sign that we can't manipulate Jesus into doing things the way we think he should. But it is also a sign that his own plans are better than ours, since his love is both more fearsome and more free. We wouldn't dare to ask to be loved so much, partly because our egos know they won't survive it. But seeing him reign from the cross can move our hearts to trust him enough to surrender to what he thinks is best. When we do so we experience the reality of reconciliation and "peace by the blood of his cross".
In Jesus, true kingship was never far removed from profound service, never separable from love. As Jesus restores our agency over our own lives, freeing us from addiction, sin, and the power of death, may we use our own power as kings and queens (see CCC 786) for the sake of others, and for spreading the Gospel of his salvation to the world.
David Crowder Band - Here Is Our King
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