24 hours that changed the world: trial before Pilate(Barabbas) RUMC 3/6/16

24 hours that changed the world: trial before Pilate(Barabbas)

RUMC 3/6/16

They got me again. This wasn’t my first time in jail, but it was the first time they threatened crucifixion. Murder they say. I say I did the world a favor like taking out the trash when I killed that tax collector. If he had been like many of them… a brother Jew turned traitor, not one person in the world would have complained. But he turned out to be Roman Citizen. So… there I was. Spending the last night of my life in a Roman prison cell… waiting for the guards to come get me. I was thinking, “Oh, if my hands weren’t tied, I would have done anything to kill one of those heartless animals with my bear hands.” I know it would not have done any good. They still would have killed me, but I wanted the satisfaction of feeling the life go out of him as I choked him.

The night drug on and as I looked up, I could see just a little sunlight. Morning was dawning I knew it wouldn’t be long now.

I heard a commotion outside. I braced myself because I figured they were coming for me. I could see shadows and hear voices, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. From what I could gather, Pilate was being his usual faltering self. He was just the emperor’s buffoon, biding his time until a more attractive opportunity came along in Rome. He cared nothing about my people.

It got noisier above me. It sounded like more and more people gathering. I could hear shouting and them Pilate answering. It wasn’t long and the guards brought another prisoner and threw him in with me.

I didn’t think I knew him, but once I looked past the blood and swelling, I realized I had seen him. He was a Rabbi and I heard him preach at the temple. I was too far back to get a very good look at him, but I was sure that this was the same man. I remember because he turned around and went in to the temple and flipped over the tables and chewed out the merchants. He caused quite a bit of trouble that day. That’s probably why the chief priests were so upset with him.

The rumor was that he claimed to be the messiah. But what kind of messiah was this Rabbi from up north with a little rag tag bunch of bumbling disciples. How does he expect anyone to take him seriously if he brings no army, and no weapons? Instead of soldiers, he talked about children. Instead of weapons, he taught, “When your enemy strikes you, turn the other cheek.” OK That might work with a little neighborly disagreement, but how was that going to drive out the Romans and restore independence and freedom to my people?

I even heard a story that he came in to town on a donkey and expected people to hail him messiah. Some did, but many of us just could not believe that a rabbi who preached love could get the job done against the mighty Roman Empire, even if God was on his side.

Freedom will be won through might, not meekness. Sovereignty will be returned to Israel when the blood of roman soldiers runs like a waterfall down the steps of the temple. Love and forgiveness? No way!

Our eyes met as he fell into the cell, and he seemed distant. I wasn’t sure where he was. He kept mumbling something about, “Not my will. Not my way.” Maybe he was delirious; it looked like someone had given him a pretty hard time. He was really bloody and one of his eyes was so swollen it looked like it might just pop out of the socket. Neither of us were in the mood to talk much. I suspected he was there for the same reason I was.

After a while, the dog himself came to the cell. Pilate. I cursed him, but he ignored me. He went to the other man and asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” I thought that was a stupid question. Did he look like a king? He replied only, “You say so.”

I thought Pilate was going to pop his cork. He asked him some other questions, but the Rabbi said nothing. Pilate was talking in a low voice, but I heard him say that he knew this guy was innocent and the High Priests were jealous. Pilate kept after him. “Don’t’ you have anything to say to defend yourself? You aren’t giving me much to work with here.” He just turned his head and went back to mumbling.

 I called after Pilate as he left. “I’m innocent too. I’ll talk to you.” He didn’t even turn around.

The rabbi never sat down. He stood with his hands bound behind his back and his head hanging. He mumbled most of the time. I couldn’t understand most of it, but I heard him say “Blessed are the poor in spirit, Blessed are the meek, blessed are the peacemakers.”

Surely he knew there was no making peace with the Romans.

After some time I heard voices above again. They came and got the rabbi and I could hear Pilate asking what they Jews wanted him to do with this innocent man. “Crucify him, Crucify him.” was their answer. The bloodthirsty chant still haunts me. I’ve never been able to get rid of that.

Pilate usually let one prisoner go on Passover weekend. It was one small gesture on the part of the heartless roman pawn to appease my people. I was sure he would send the other man home. After all he knew he was innocent. And there wasn’t much questions about my guilt. I did what I did in the open daylight and everyone saw me. I have wiggled out of a lot of tight places before, but there was no way I was wiggling out of this one. I would be crucified any time now. Probably with my friends down the hall. Just like me they were accused of attacking that tax collector and stealing Rome’s money. The only difference was I didn’t run away after we got the money. I let me temper get the best of me and killed him. That’s always been my downfall. I just don’t know when to quit and my temper gets me in trouble.

I couldn’t believe my ears when Pilate gave the crowd the choice between that man, who was apparently named Jesus also, and me. I thought there’s no contest there. It wasn’t even worth asking. No one knew of cared for me. But the crowd started shouting “Barabbas, Barabbas, Barabbas.” I had to listen to it about 4 times before I could believe my ears. “Barabbas, Barabbas, Barabbas.”  

I heard Pilate order the other Jesus’ whipping and Crucifixion and my release. The guards came and opened the door. I was so shocked I just stood there. One of them reached in and grabbed me by the hair and pulled me out. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I didn’t really know the other guy, but I felt sorry for him. Even Pilate believed that he was innocent and in his mind, all the Jews were guilty and deserved to die. The only thing they were good for is paying taxes. Yet he seemed sure about this Jesus.

I stood by watching as they beat him mercilessly. I didn’t want to get too close in case they would change their mind and give me some of the same. They acted like animals. Taunting him, cursing him, beating him. They put a purple robe on him and a crown made of those nasty thorns that rip up your legs as you walk across the Kidron Valley. They jammed it on his head. And he screamed in pain.

They made him carry the wood on which he would die, and started out of the Praetorium toward the dump where the guards were preparing for him. Behind him were my accomplices, also bloody and carrying their deadly loads. I wanted to run far, far away, but I couldn’t. I walked beside this sorry shadow of a man they called Jesus, and kept thinking, “That should have been me.” I kept thinking how close I came to be being the one on my way to die. My heart got heavier and heavier. I thought it was going to stop beating right there.

And then the strangest thing happened. Our eyes locked on one another for the longest time. I couldn’t look away. It was probably for a few seconds, but it seems like forever. It was as if he could see through me. It was as if he knew everything about me, everything. Everything I had ever stolen, every person I had killed, every lie I told, and every sorrow I had known. But how could he? I couldn’t shake the feeling that his eyes were searching the deepest darkest parts of my soul.

But you know what? There was not one sign of anger. There was not one sign of resentment. There was not one sign of bitterness or hostility. His eyes were gentle. They were kind. I thought… (No that’s silly)… well I’ll tell you anyway…  I thought I saw love in those eyes. I looked again and tried to see through into him as he saw into me and I could not shake the feeling that he was OK with this.

I had enough. I wanted to leave. But my legs would not carry me. They turned to stone and all I could do is sit down and watch from a distance.

The sounds of crucifixion are horrendous. If you have never heard them you can’t imagine the sound of the tearing flesh, the screaming, the taunting, the wheezing as breathing gets harder and harder.  

I heard Jesus say some things from the cross. I couldn’t believe what he said. He said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Forgive the Romans. Forgive the very men who drove steal spikes into your flesh. Forgive those who stripped you naked and had a pool about how long it would take you to die. Forgive? Then I realized that he was talking about me too.

I should have been on that cross. I should have been between my friends. I should have been the bloody, exhausted one, struggling for every breath and drowning in my own fluids as I hung there. I… I.. I… deserved it. That cross had my name on it, and he took my place…and he was OK with that. He was at peace with that.

One of the men beside him on a cross taunted him, but the other called out to him. He said “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Really? I knew that guy. We grew up together and if there was one place he did not deserve to go when he died it was paradise.

And then it hit me. I wasn’t getting what I deserved either. He willingly took my place, received my punishment, felt the pain of my nails, paid for my sins with his life, and offered nothing in return but forgiveness and a promise of paradise.

Forgiveness and promise of paradise for a scumbag like me. I didn’t deserve forgiveness. I didn’t deserve paradise any more than my friend. But that did not matter to the rabbi of love. That did not matter to the rabbi of forgiveness. That did not matter to the rabbi who willingly died for me, and for everything I had ever done.

I felt free. I mean not just out of jail, but free inside. Free in a way I had never been free. I felt like this was the beginning of a new life for me. I didn’t understand it. But as he took his last breath. I took my first breath as a new person. I could never be the person I was before. I was alive. More alive than I had ever been, because of Jesus.

As I walked home I remembered a passage from the synagogue about the promised one.

Surely he has borne our infirmities
  and carried our diseases;
yet we accounted him stricken,
  struck down by God, and afflicted.
 But he was wounded for our transgressions,
  crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
  and by his bruises we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray;
  we have all turned to our own way,
and the Lord has laid on him
  the iniquity of us all.

 He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
  yet he did not open his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
  and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
  so he did not open his mouth. (Isaiah 53:4-7)