“The Crown of Thorns”
Original sermon given March 13, 2024, written and delivered by Pastor Jeffrey Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church.
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“The Crown of Thorns”
Matthew 27.27-31
Matthew 27.27-31
In the name of the Living God and the crucified Christ. Amen.
I am struck by the layers of irony in this account. We can see the ironies now, by the work of the Holy Spirit—since we know who this condemned criminal truly is and how the story finally unfolds.
The irony: They drag him bound and bloody to the governor’s praetorium. This is most likely the grand Herodian Palace, where Pilate had set up shop as ruler over Judea. And yet we know the eternal Christ once ruled from an eternal throne room, a palace of infinite beauty and grandeur.
A cohort of Pilate’s soldiers surround him in contempt. According to some commentators, this would be perhaps several hundred Syrian legionnaires, who knew enough of the local language to hurl hurtful insults at him. And yet, we know Christ once had tens of thousands of angelic hosts surrounding him as servants and singing his praises.
They strip him, clothing him in a Roman soldier’s scarlet cape—a mockery of purple for a mockery of a king. And yet, we know Christ was once clothed in eternal splendor, power, and holiness.
A reed rests in his right hand—every king needs a scepter to hold. Yet we know that Christ once held all things in his hand, as governor over all that there is, seen and unseen.
They spit upon him and strike him repeatedly—each blow driving deeper the thorns in his head. But they should have instead been kissing his feet repeatedly and knelt before him in repentance rather than derision.
They drag him away to be crucified when they should have been following him to glory. They hail him in disdain when they should have been bowing in reverence. They laugh in scorn when they should have been trembling in fear.
But arguably the deepest layer of irony, in this account from Matthew 27 lies in the Crown of Thorns. The crown: symbol of royalty, authority, and victory in battle. Expensive. Emblematic of the wealth of many lands and the subjugation of many peoples. One thinks of the Crown Jewels at Buckingham Palace, or those of Louis XV still seen in the Louvre. No earthly crown could be made worthy to be worn by Christ the king however. Not all the gold and jewels of all the world would be worthy of his sacred, holy head.
And yet here we see them fashioning a crown perversely for the inflicting of pain upon him. For their merriment, and not in recognition of his kingship. In order to debase his humanity, they weave these thorns, not to exalt his divinity.
The crown of thorns is a particularly graphic detail recorded by the gospel writers. Botany experts tell us that ancient Palestine would have had plenty of prickly plants for the soldiers to choose from. We don’t know the specific kind they used, but if they gathered them from the date palm, the thorns could have been several inches in length.[1] A sobering sight indeed!
One wonders why the gospel witnesses would record this graphic detail? It wasn’t just a gruesome attempt at selling more books, I can tell you that for sure. No, we know the gospel writers wrote a great risk recording these events.
Rather, what’s revealed here is the depths of Christ’s love. The divine irony that Jesus our Lord emptied himself fully for the sins of the whole world—for us. He willingly set aside an eternal glorious crown in glory, to wear a weave of wretchedness and pain. In the greatest irony, the greatest king, takes the greatest suffering, for the greatest number—the whole of humanity. His conqueror’s crown is one of humility and suffering for through it he vanquishes sin and death. Isaiah the prophet writes, “by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53.5). Know this evening that behind this mockery and pain is a love which endured all things for you and me. He wore a crown of thorns so we could wear one in glory.
The divine irony of the crown of thorns is made all the more powerful three days later at Christ’s resurrection. Not the worst done to him by pagan soldiers could keep him from victory. As low and as disgraced as was Christ’s humiliating death, yet now again he is glorified in eternity. His rising again at Easter proved that not the worst that this world could do to him could hold back his reign.
The Book of Revelation describes our risen, ascended, and glorified Lord: “His eyes are like a flame of fire, on his head are many diadems”—many crowns (Rev. 19.12). Our reading tonight makes it clear that the crown of thorns came first.
He now is worthy of all our praise, and indeed all our earthly crowns we place at his feet. For he took the crown of thorns upon himself, for us, and now reigns in victory over death forever.
[1] Lutheran Study Bible, p. 1820