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Sermon for Palm Sunday – March 29, 2026
Matthew 27:11-54
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
The centurion had seen many crucifixions before. It was a common Roman practice, so he had probably witnessed hundreds of them before this one. His Grandpa may have told him stories of the slave revolt a generation before that led to 6,000 men being crucified along the Appian Way. It was part of Roman lore.
Crucifixions weren’t at all uncommon among the Romans. As a centurion, he’d seen plenty of them. He would have carried them out himself.
But this one was different. It was different from the very beginning.
Usually when someone is charged with a capital offense, they have a lot to say in their own defense. They will say anything to beat the charges, and if that doesn’t get them anywhere, they will plead for their lives. But this Jesus remained silent before his accusers.
Usually when someone is mocked and spit upon and beaten, they react in one way or another. They might return the insults. They might try to fight back. They might squirm and try to escape. No matter how hopeless the situation might be, it’s just human nature. That fight or flight reaction is so strong. If nothing else, they will plead for mercy. But this Jesus bore it all without any hint of protest. He seemed to be doing it all willingly.
Yes, this was no ordinary crucifixion. This one was different from the very beginning.
And then, as Jesus was dying, weird things started happening – calamities that were cosmic in scale. The sky grew dark. It started at Noon, and by the time it was 3 o’clock it was as dark as night. That’s when Jesus cried out with a loud voice. That’s when he breathed his last. That’s when he died. It was as though the sky itself was grieving what was happening. It was like the sun was setting on an entire era of human history.
Then there was an earthquake! You take it for granted that the ground is reliably stable, and so it is terrifying to feel it shaking beneath your feet, rolling and heaving, throwing you off balance. The earthquake was strong enough that enormous rocks were split, cracked open like eggs when they’re dropped on the floor. It was as though the very foundations of existence were being shaken. This was no ordinary crucifixion.
The centurion had heard Jesus referred to as the Son of God. The chief priests and the scribes and the elders used the term to mock Jesus, saying “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!” They used that title “Son of God” to taunt Jesus. But could it be true? After all that this centurion had seen with this crucifixion, he came to believe that it was true. And so with a trembling voice, he looked up at Jesus on the cross and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son.”
Note well here that the first person to confess Jesus as the Son of God after his death was not a disciple. Neither was it a priest or a theologian. It wasn’t one of God’s chosen people, the people of the covenant. It wasn’t any of the people who prayed at the temple. It wasn’t anyone particularly holy or good. It wasn’t someone known for their clean living, for their clean record, their clean hands.
No, the first person to confess Jesus as the Son of God after his death was a Gentile. It was a Roman soldier. It was someone who had carried out hundreds of brutal crucifixions as part of their job. It was someone with blood on their hands – Jesus’ blood.
What was it that made this centurion go from seeing Jesus as just another inconvenient human being to euthanize to seeing him as God’s Son? What changed his mind? What changed his heart? It wasn’t a miracle. It wasn’t a dramatic healing or a multiplication of fish and loaves. It wasn’t any of Jesus’ sermons. It wasn’t his teaching. It wasn’t a clever parable.
What changed him was the cross. What changed his mind about Jesus, what changed his heart, was the cross. This was no ordinary crucifixion. It meant something. It still does.
Jesus took his sentence without argument. Jesus took all that abuse without protest. As Isaiah prophesied in our first reading, “I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insults and spitting.” Jesus was the fulfillment of what the scriptures said God would do to save his people. Though the idea of a suffering Messiah had been long forgotten, Jesus was the fulfillment of the promise of a Savior who would suffer in order to save his people.
As Saint Paul says in our epistle reading, Jesus, although he was God, emptied himself. He submitted himself to death, even death on a cross. He emptied himself on purpose, with intentionality, willingly taking our sin upon himself in obedience to the Father, so that every tongue would confess that he is Lord.
When the sky drew dark, the sun was indeed setting on an entire era in human history. Sin was being defeated, conquered, destroyed, atoned for. When the earth heaved and rolled, the foundations of our existence were indeed being shaken. Death itself was dying. Through this crucified Messiah, humanity was being redeemed, resc those who stand in harm’s way on our behalf. Establish through their labors places of safety and calm ued, saved. Sin and death no longer separate a fallen humanity from a holy God! Now, all who look upon Jesus and his cross and confess that he is the Son of God have forgiveness, life, and salvation. And if God can put this saving confession on the lips of the very soldier who oversaw his crucifixion, then there is hope for everyone.
This was no ordinary crucifixion. Jesus did it for you. He suffered for you. He died for you. He did it to save you. He did it to redeem you. He did it in order to defeat sin, death, and the devil. He did is so that there would be nothing left that could ever separate you from God.
This was no ordinary crucifixion. Truly this man was God’s Son.
And as we will learn next Sunday, he still is.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church