27. Mark 15:11-13
But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate spoke to them again, “Then what do you wish me to do with the man you call the King of the Jews?” They shouted back, “Crucify him!”
One may well wonder while reading this portion of Mark’s story of the Passion who is at fault. Is it the religious authorities? Certainly the Evangelist points to their influence over the masses, and there is no discounting the impulse of those in power to manipulate others to their own ends. Is it the religious authorities?
Or is it Pilate? He plays a critical role as well, representing Roman rule and holding the power of life and death. Moreover, he’s turned the affair into a contest, a first-century version of American Idol, parading two convicts before the crowd and inviting them to choose one over the other rather than to exercise his office. Justice? What is justice to Pilate when he can set up a spectacle and simultaneously profess his innocence? How very Roman of him. Is it Pilate?
Or is it the crowds? They certainly play the role set for them. Easily manipulated, eager to curry favor, any moral compass they may possess as individuals has been swept away by the gales of mass fervor. These folks, many who greeted Jesus a few days earlier with shouts of Hosanna, are now calling for his death. How fickle we are as a species, so quick to change allegiance, so easily manipulated to suit the desires and designs of others. Is it the crowds?
So who’s at fault? It would seem that no one is innocent: powerful and pawns alike, religious and political, fervent and indifferent, all play a part in this dark drama. There is no one innocent, but One. Which, I suppose, is Mark’s point all along. All humanity is represented this day, which means that we are included as well. It is not that we were there, but that had we been there we would have been no different.
Mark’s story catches us all. And so at this time of year, and at this point in the story, we often sign the Johann Hermann hymn, based appropriately on Isaiah 54, which tells us the difficult truth:
Ah, holy Jesus, how hast Thou offended,
That man to judge Thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by Thine own rejected,
O most afflicted.
Who was the guilty – Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
‘Twas I, Lord, Jesus, I it was denied Thee!
I crucified Thee.
The great temptation when reading these passages, you see, is to point fingers or, if not that, then to wince sympathetically, or maybe just to avert our eyes and wait until the horror passes. But we do so at our peril. For at this moment the Lord of Glory divests himself of all power to be joined to us – bystanders, religious, political, and everyone in between – that suffering our fate he might be joined to us in perfect solidarity so that, when he is raised from the dead, we may have hope to join him as he joined us.
What is left, then, for us to do? Hermann, again, is on the mark:
Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee,
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee,
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.
Prayer: Dear God, accept our thanks for the suffering and death of your innocent Son. They are meager, surely insufficient to honor such a sacrifice. Yet if you accept them, perhaps we will find the courage to look upon ourselves and all others as worthy of love simply because you loved us enough to die for us. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Post image: Antonio Ciseri (1821-1891) Ecce Homo
Recent Comments