Jesus, Remember Me

And [the thief] said, “Jesus, remember me, Lord, when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will exist with me in the garden.” Luke 23: 42-43 

-Author’s translation 

It is a strange thing that the thief has a significant desire to be remembered. It is not something I would ask while hanging on the cross next to the Son of God. I’d be more in line with the save me and save yourself (in that order) entreaty. The request is intended to make us pause. It is an encouragement to seek out the source of the appeal. To do so we must do some exegesis, which comes from the Greek word for “to lead out”. Exegesis is a tool by which we study the original language to draw out the meaning of the text. 

The Greek word used for “remember” in this passage is mνησθητι (mnestheti). It is an aorist passive imperative. The aorist is a funny verb tense. It can show a complete action, but it can also signify that the action is continual. In this latter form (the ingressive), the aorist reveals a coming into being but does not stipulate a specific end. The aorist, in the case of this verse, shows that the act of remembering is perpetual; the thief wants to be remembered for eternity. The passive shows that it is not the speaker that can do the thing requested—the speaker cannot remember himself because he will die. It is also an imperative, a directive: “Jesus, YOU remember me!” thereby recognizing that only Jesus can remember him for eternity. Thus, in the aorist passive imperative we discover the thief’s confession is the confession of the eternality of Jesus. 

The inscription above Jesus’ cross was probably not the only inscription on Golgotha that day. Most likely the criminals next to Jesus also had inscriptions above their heads—thief, good-for-nothing, ne’er-do-well—labels that inform the spectator exactly what they must do to avoid being crucified. Don’t steal, don’t rebel, don’t break the law in any way: the Roman Empire is watching; the Empire is not merciful; the Empire controls your life. In the same way, the inscription above Jesus reveals what the Romans think about the Jews: Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews. Nazarene is an insult; remember Nathanael’s words in John 1:46: “can anything good come from Nazareth?” Thus, the inscription can be interpreted “Jesus the nothing/nobody, King of the Jews a nobody people.” Yet, the crucified criminal recognizes something in Jesus that challenges the Roman Empire’s proclamation that Jesus does not matter. He confesses the authority of Jesus by calling him κύριος (kurios) meaning lord. In doing so he rejects the authority of this world and submits himself to the true lord, Jesus Christ. 

In his request the thief is not only recognizing the lordship and eternality of Jesus, but he is also asking Jesus to remember “not what I am being crucified for, but remember me, the person that I truly am!” In this act, he acknowledges that he has strayed from God’s holy ways. Therefore, when he asks Jesus to remember him, he is asking for forgiveness. In doing so, the thief confesses the divinity of Jesus. For, it is only God who can forgive him of his sins and restore him to the person he was created to be—one who is in union and communion with God.  

We are not our sin. The princes of this world would have you think otherwise. It is the way they control us. These three confessions reveal the freedom found in acknowledging the fact that we cannot become who we were created to be on our own. It is only through confession of the divinity, lordship, and eternality of Jesus that we are saved from the power of unrighteousness. Lent is a time that we can live the confession of the thief through fasting and contemplation. In doing so we are asking Jesus to renew us to the fullness of ourselves that is announced in Jesus’ reply to the thief.  

Jesus’ response mirrors the confession of thief’s request; he does not promise to remember him, but he understands the thief’s main concern and reciprocates accordingly: today you will be with me in παράδεισος (paradeisos). Παράδεισος means the garden of the king, and there is one garden that should be triggered in our memory when we hear this passage. In his reply, Jesus promises a restored garden where the thief will exist with Jesus, the new Adam, and a reestablishment of his proper end. No longer will he be his sin and be known as a malefactor on a cross punished by the Roman Empire. Instead, his primary definition of being will be existing with Jesus. Therefore, Jesus will not have to remember him because he will exist with him, he will be known fully because it is only in Christ where he can discover who he truly is. So too, today we are invited to the garden. We accept Christ’s invitation through the act of crucifying our worldly identity. We can cast off all the world says about us, all we claim about ourselves, and we can put all our faults at his feet and cry “Jesus, Lord, remember me!”, and he will invite us into the garden where we discover ourselves in the fullness of Christ: our eternal lord and God.