If you were out at work this morning, or running errands, you know that most of the world is having a typical day today. People are going to the bank, to exercise, to shop for groceries. People are going to work and coming home. They are getting coffee, standing in line for   a bagel, and chopping food for dinner. They’re typing away, writing emails, developing code, designing buildings. Other people are giving or receiving medical tests, taking chemo and radiation, sitting through the hours of dialysis.

All over, there’s nothing special about today.

And, it turns out, there’s nothing special about Jesus, either.

We’re here today because it’s not quite enough to wave our palms and then bask in Easter’s joy — we want to stand with Jesus’ friends and family at the cross, watching and waiting. We, too, want to see where they put him, where his body ends up. There’s something special about him to us… but not to anyone else.

The gospel writers spent as much time on Jesus’ last few days as they did on everything else put together. Out of Mark’s sixteen chapters, six are about the last week of Jesus’ life. These memories must have stayed with Jesus’ friends in sharp detail, and we get them in the same painful detail.

There’s nothing special about Jesus — crucifixion was a common form of death. The words “cross” and “crucify” come from the generic Latin word for torture. This kind of death was so common that the vertical poles stayed in place — usually at the top of a hill, or by a well-traveled road, or at the city gate. The more people who saw the posts, the better. Maybe they’d be deterred from any rebellion against the ruling authorities. Prisoners commonly carried their own horizontal cross pieces, laboring under the weight of the wood so their fear could grow. It was common to flog people — to whip them, like Jesus is, to weaken the prisoner as much as possible.

For Jesus, there was one special incentive. The people doing the crucifixion were in a hurry. Jesus had to be dead and buried before sundown, to comply with the religious law.

Some people were nailed in place, and others tied in place. The placard that Jesus got was also common — passers-by could look and see what the criminal had done. “The King of the Jews” was a title that the Romans used for Herod. The title makes fun of Herod, the ruler of a small province, very far from all the important business of Rome.

They used it again to make fun of Jesus. There was nothing special in the title.

There was not even anything special about the way the soldiers mocked Jesus.

I had always thought that the soldiers devised this punishment   just for Jesus, mocking him as the king of the Jews, but it was part    of the formula. Victims of crucifixion were mocked before and during the process. It was common to dress a prisoner up, and then make fun of him. The purple cloak was already hanging in the guardroom, long before Jesus arrived, and it hung there after he left, waiting for other prisoners.

For Jesus, they took it a step further. The purple cloak mocked the claim of royalty, and the crown of thorns was meant to evoke the laurel wreath that Caesar wore. The reed was a substitute for the rulers’ scepter. These, too, were common for political prisoners.

Even dividing up the clothes of the person on the cross was common — a little overtime pay came for the soldiers who had to do this work.

There was not anything special about Jesus’ burial, either. 

The story says that:

When evening had come, and since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the day before the sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council …went boldly to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Pilate allows him to take the body. And then, as the gospel tells it, “Joseph bought a linen cloth, and taking down the body, wrapped it in the linen cloth, and laid it in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. He then rolled a stone against the door of the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus saw where the body was laid.” (John 19:42-47)

Jesus’ family and friends had to know where he was buried so they would know where to mourn. It was common for people to grieve at the entrance to the tomb — some tombs from that era have a shallow depression at the entryway so people could gather there and weep together. Nothing special about that, either.

There’s not anything special about our suffering either.

There is plenty of it to go around.

Each of you has something going on in your life that’s causing you pain. It could be an illness and painful treatment. Or, perhaps you’re grieving for a loved one. Maybe your home isn’t a safe place for you or your family is angry and divided. For some people here, there are more bills than money, and stress is eating away at you. For others, God seems far away.

Whatever it is, you’re in good company.

All around us, other people are suffering in mental hospitals and prisons …somewhere, someone is being tortured for their beliefs …a young person is being bullied, and feeling their spirit wither …a frazzled parent is hitting a child in anger …a migrant worker is feeling an ache in their back, and it’s just the start of the day. There’s nothing special about any of that.

There’s nothing special about any of it…

…except that the redeemer chose to enter into that suffering, and to fill it with the presence of God. He chose to bring the presence of God to every place of hurt, pain, and unbearable sorrow. He chose to make sure we know that God is never absent from the world, even when it doesn’t make sense to us.

That’s why today is special.

The Roman soldier saw it at the cross, and now we do, too.

At the very last, as Jesus gave up his spirit, the sound was so explosive, so clear that this was the breath of God, that the soldier looked up and said, “Truly this man was the Son of God.” (Mark 15:39) 

That same breath that went out of Jesus now fills up all of human life. It enters into every place of pain, sorrow, and anguish, and lets us know that God is there, too.

When you go out of church this afternoon…
…and to the grocery store,
…or the bakery…
…or the gym, you may feel a little dazed. 

As you zip to the bank…
…or finish your taxes,
…or call a friend on the phone…you may feel jarred, between the busyness of the world, and the business of standing watch at the cross.

Things go on, and there’s nothing special about today …except that we carry with us the cry of the Roman soldier, that truly this was the Son of God. We carry it now in our lives, bearing watch through the weekend, until Sunday comes.

In the name of the Son of God, breath of life,  one acquainted with sorrows, Amen.