Jesus, Pilate, and Barabbas

Much like Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, and denial, we again find ourselves as a self-reflecting audience of a three-act drama.  Last week we discovered that Peter’s denial, “I do not know or understand what you are talking about,” was a fearful expression narrating the mob’s fear of the unknown, the council’s fear of what Jesus’ messianic claims meant, and Peter’s own objectifying of Jesus.  As last week’s story called us to reflect on our own fear of following, this week calls into question how we understand the relationship of the kingdom of God and the kingdoms we perpetuate.

I remember sitting with Isabelle and Annaleigh and flipping through “touch and feel” baby books.  Feel the duck’s feathers.  Feathers are soft.  Feel the cat’s tongue.  The tongue is rough.  A circle is round.  A square has edges.  The apple is red.  The frog is green.  At an early age we discern the world through opposites.  The only reason we know that “red” is red and “blue” is blue is because red isn’t blue and blue isn’t red.  Now let me say, because I feel strongly about this, reality is not fundamentally an expression of opposites.  The world wants us to think that there is only life or death.  Our faith teaches us that there is life, death, and life beyond death.  The world wants us to think that there is right and wrong.  Our faith teaches us that there is right and wrong and holy.  As I mentioned in our “The Will of God” series, we do not have to know evil in order to recognize good.  There is more to life than recognizing that a duck’s feathers are soft and a cat’s tongue is rough, but seeing contrast is a fair place to start opening our minds to who God is and what God does.

The author of Mark’s Gospel stretches our mind and our heart to understand the Kingdom of God in a three-act drama.  The first scene is Pilate the governor and Jesus the king.  Early in the morning the Jewish authority binds Jesus as a criminal and sends him to Pontius Pilate.  Pilate asks him, “Are you king of the Jews?”  Jesus replies, “You say so.”  It is a curious response, which is rather typical for Jesus.  “Are we to pay taxes to Caesar,” the Pharisees ask him.  Jesus replies saying, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s.”  “Are you king of the Jews?” sounds like a “yes” or “no” question, but neither a “yes,” nor a “no,” answers the questions.  Early in Israel’s history the people demanded a king.  God concedes, but tells them that it will now be up to the king to keep the law on behalf of the people, to represent the people before God.  So, yes, in the Godly sense of the word, Jesus is a king.  Jesus’ fidelity to God is what gives us access to God, but Pilate is not working from this framework.  So yes, Jesus is a king, but not in the way Pilate expects.  So the answer isn’t yes, nor is the answer no.  “Are you a King?” Pilate asks.  “You say so,” Jesus replies.  You say that I am a king.  Yes I am, but not in way you understand power, and this becomes clear later in our story.

Amazed at Jesus’ subsequent silence, Pilate gives the crowd a choice between Jesus and Barabbas in scene two.  Barabbas is closely related to the Zealots, a group who supported armed resistance against Roman occupation.  He was arrested for insurrection and fighting against the government.  In some ways, the Zealots would have cheered Jesus’ message.  Jesus preached that the powerful would be humbled and the lowly would be lifted up.  Jesus said “Blessed are the hungry for they will be filled,” and “deny yourself,” and “There is no greater love than laying down one’s life for a friend.”  This message of revolution inspired the Zealots.  Jesus even named Simon the Zealot as one of the twelve disciples.  Pilate offers the crowd the choice between two Zealots, in his mind, yet Jesus’s message is also quite different than the Zealots’.  Jesus also preached, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” and “Those who live by the sword, die by the sword,” and the story of the Good Samaritan is nearly blasphemy as far as the Zealot is concerned.  The juxtaposition goes even further.  Barabbas’ name is the clue.  The prefix, “bar” means “son of,” much like the Irish “Mc,” like “McAndrew,” meaning “Andrew’s son,” or the English “Richardson,” meaning “Richard’s son.”  The second half of his name, “Abba,” is a word meaning “Father.”  Barabbas’ name literally means, “son of the father.”  In some Gospels his name is recorded as “Jesus Barabbas,” meaning, “Jesus, son of the father.”  So the crowd has before them, Jesus, Son of the Father, and Jesus Barabbas, “Jesus, son of the father.”  In other words, the crowd is given a choice of revolution.  Would they choose an armed resistance against Rome to save the state, or would they choose a revolution of God’s kingdom, which would save the soul.  Will they choose revolution or resurrection?  The crowd shouts, “give us Barabbas,” and they call for Jesus to be crucified.

In our final scene Pilate, the clever politician, pleases the crowd by handing Jesus over to be crucified.  It is counterintuitive at best.  Pilate has the authority; Pilate has the power, yet he bows to the wishes of the crowd, giving the illusion of democracy.  It was how Rome was so successful in conquering the Mediterranean.  It is Pilate saying to Jesus, “There’s nothing I can do,” and this should give us pause.  How often do we look at poverty, oppression, and violence and say, “Jesus, there’s nothing I can do.”

Homelessness is a huge issue in our area.  There are estimated 4,500 homeless in Shreveport according to the Rescue Mission. Battling homelessness seems too large for any church to tackle.  We feel impotent in doing anything at all.  Even though there are 4,500 homeless in Shreveport there are also 788 churches in the Shreveport area, according to yellowpages.com.  If each church in Shreveport would work to establish housing for 5.7 people a year, or just over one family a year, there would be no homeless in our area.  What a beautiful image of the kingdom of God to say that because of the work of the church, there are no homeless in our area.  For the sake of the argument, let’s say that each church makes a commitment to house a family of four and a pair of roommates in two separate apartments.  The median price of apartment rent in Shreveport is $800, so if each church commits $1,600 a month for two apartments a year, this would be a cost of right around $20,000 annually.  For a church of our size, this is about 2% of the annual budget.  Now, I understand that it’s a bit more complicated than this, and not every church in our area has the resources that we do, but my point is that sometimes we make ourselves far less powerful than we are.  Sometimes we make ourselves our to be Pilate saying, “Jesus, there’s nothing I can do,” and we wash our hands of the things Jesus is calling us to do.

In our first scene we see Pilate the governor and Jesus the king.  In our second scene we have a choice between Jesus, son of the father and Jesus, Son of the Father.  In the final scene we see Pilate pleasing the crowd and Jesus who saves the crowd.  Which messiah do we choose?  Which kingdom do we desire?  Do we choose revolution which changes the government, or do we choose resurrection which changes everything?  Amen.