New Thoughts (11/10/12-11/15/12)
This passage provides perhaps the clearest view of the distinct perspectives provided by the four Gospel witnesses. There us the sense of immediacy we get from Mark’s coverage of Peter’s preaching. Peter is able to provide a good deal of detail because he was doubtless there amidst that crowd. Matthew has clearly drawn from the same material in presenting his version. But, he is also able to present a few further details that Mark either had not heard or did not find suited to those for whom he was writing.
If we hold that Mark was written primarily for the church in Rome, while Matthew was looking to reach the Hebrews, the distinctive aspects of Matthew’s coverage make perfect sense. From him, we have first the added detail of Pilate’s wife having had a dream. It wasn’t only the Romans who felt this connection between dream life and oracle. Indeed, the number of parallel verses that show up for that comment, the number of times God has steered His own by instructions delivered in dreams is great. The second distinctive passage Matthew provides is that detail about Pilate washing his hands of the matter – something that has become a standard bit of phraseology even to this day. But, this, as the parallel verses show, was actually a somewhat ignorant mimicry of practices established by Mosaic Law, and the response of the crowd is very clearly designed to reflect the acceptance of a covenanted agreement. Yes, yes. His blood be upon us, and upon our children. And so it would be, too. This stressing of the connectedness of this new covenant with all that was there in Torah is a recurring motif for Matthew, and critical to reaching his intended audience.
Then we have Luke, the Gentile Gospel, if you will. He is looking at this with more of an outsider’s perspective, not having come out of that culture. He is Greek, and he has Greek sensibilities. For him, the most striking aspect to this whole affair is the irony. It must have seemed wholly unthinkable to him that these priests, these purportedly holy men, would go so far as to seek the freedom of a known murderer rather than abandon their pursuit of Jesus. It must have been more astounding yet to realize that Pilate had actually agreed to do so, and this man a convicted insurrectionist! It cannot be missed that the one they released was truly guilty of the very thing they had falsely set out as accusation against Jesus. The wonder that so many would in so many ways violate so many of their principles to see this Man destroyed, or, as in Pilate’s case, just to keep life a little easier seems to be the focus of his coverage here.
As to John? Well, John, as always, is looking at the points he remembers which others have not covered yet. Here, there is not a great deal to add concerning the unfolding of events. However, John has the benefit of passing time. It seems to me that in his description of Barabbas, there is the tone of having arrived at a more accurate assessment of the man. The earlier writers leave him as an insurrectionist. Yes, he was a murderer, but perhaps one could find at least a bit of redeeming value in the man, given he was acting as a nationalist. At least Matthew and Mark might find a little sympathy for him on that basis. So long as that idea of insurrection against Rome remained part of his story, there was the chance people might see him in at least a neutral light. But, John’s assessment is much darker. The political aspect is stripped from Barabbas. He is just a robber, applying violence in the pursuit of his chosen profession. He is a brigand. Had he a boat, he would be a pirate. There is absolutely nothing praiseworthy there. This, it strikes me, is the distinctive note John adds to the event.
Exploring the distinctions a bit more thoroughly, I should like to consider that comment Matthew injects regarding the dream Pilate’s wife experienced. My first reaction to that note was to see in it what seems a fairly typical Roman superstitious streak. To be sure, we hear enough of Roman tendencies towards seeking omens in all manner of ways. I cannot doubt that Pilate, upon hearing this, was not dismissive. It actually makes it the more surprising to me that he was still willing to accede to the will of the mob. He must have suspected that there would be a high cost to doing so. But, he could be dead certain of the high cost if he did not. Apparently his pragmatism won out over his superstition. Of course, either way, he lost.
Here’s the thing, though: It wasn’t just the Romans. Israel had a long history with dreams and visions. Indeed, if one just considers the number of points in the early part of Matthew’s gospel which involve God directing His people via dreams. Joseph is ready to dump Mary, but God speaks to him in a dream. The magi, having found young Jesus, are warned in a dream not to return to Herod. Joseph is instructed in a dream to flee to Egypt until Herod has passed from the scene, and to return when that event has transpired.
Looked at in this light, the significance of this latest dream seems to point to something more than Roman beliefs. It is as though Matthew, having pointed out the number of times God has intervened to keep His Son from harm, here He is speaking again. He has spoken to Jews. He has spoken to eastern mystics. Now, He has spoken to a Roman – and a woman, at that! But, to the priests? No, not a whisper. Of course, we understand that this warning was not intended to be heeded, and Matthew understands this as well. He is not writing this from the shock of the next few days, but from the understanding gained through the next several years. The meaning of it all was now clear, and he is seeking to make it clear to his audience.
So, once again, we need to reassess the purpose behind his including this dream. What would that audience make of it? Well, there was certainly a rich history of prophets being given dreams and visions. There was, of course, also a history of false prophets only claiming to have had such things. But, the record of God speaking by these means was sufficiently strong, and the absence of such messages for so many years prior to the advent of Jesus, that this would be significant. He was speaking! Matthew has made that abundantly clear. He has been speaking again. And, here He is speaking to a dog of a Gentile! And, even that dog of a Gentile had enough sense to pay attention. Her husband may have chosen to ignore it, but she did not. She did what she could to warn her husband against striking down the Son of God. The Jews, meanwhile, were making such a fuss about destroying Him that they even managed to drown out the very voice of God. That would seem to be the power of Matthew’s point. Even though God spoke warning, even though the least likely of spiritual recipients heard that warning and relayed it to those who could intervene, God’s own people did not hear, did not defend their Messiah, but rather overwhelmed God’s warning in their fervor to destroy Him.
Consider this passage from Job. “In a dream, in night-visions, when men sleep soundly, slumbering in their beds, He opens their ears and seals their instructions” (Job 33:15-16). If the experts are correct, this is the oldest of writings we have in the Scriptures, and from the outset, there it is: God imparts His instructions by dreams and night-visions. It continues to be one of His primary means of issuing commands throughout the Old Testament and, as Matthew has shown us, even entering into the New Testament era. Some of this, I dare say, has to do with the fact that we’re too disinclined to be listening when we’re awake. The wakened mind is a mind determined to manage its own affairs. It is only by force of will and with the backing of the Holy Spirit that we are able to train our minds on the things of God. But, even then, we tend to be in the driver’s seat. Once asleep, though, we can hear Him rather than our own chatter. I am hardly going to advocate that we begin learning how to shut down our mental processes after the fashion of eastern meditation. No, that’s not the point. God already has His ways. He really doesn’t need our assistance. Trust me, if He wishes to speak to you, He will do so!
The larger question is how shall we respond? Will we be of the camp that says, “Here I am, Lord”? Or will we be in the crowd that only notices the thunder rumbling? It may well be one of the weak points of Reformed theology that there is seemingly no room left for God to speak. I am not suggesting that we ought to be open to new revelation. That is unnecessary. The dream Pilate’s wife had was hardly new revelation. It was certainly illumination for her, and for Pilate had he paid heed. But, to suppose God no longer speaks to His people seems a grotesque overreaction. We needn’t wander into charismatic excess. But, we dishonor God, I should think, if we refuse Him permission to speak to us, deny the very possibility. How, then, are we different from the priests out there stirring up the crowd? How are we different from Pilate, who rejected the message God tried to deliver? It’s something to think about.
The other item that is unique to Matthew’s coverage is, of course, Pilate washing his hands of the affair. The inclusion of this act is of a piece with Matthew’s purpose in writing. He is writing to a primarily Jewish audience and has been careful throughout to show how firmly connected this new understanding is to what has always been. The New Covenant is not a matter of wholesale change, but of clearer revelation. Thus we have found Matthew more inclined to take note of those activities which fulfilled prophecies of old. Here, while he is not really pointing to a prophetic fulfillment, he is providing a detail with a particularly Hebraic flavor.
This matter of washing the hands harks back to the establishment of Israel as a nation. As Moses was setting forth the case law for implementing God’s Commands, a great deal of coverage is necessarily given to issues of murder or wrongful death. Coming into Deuteronomy 21, the discussion turns to a body discovered. The perpetrator is unknown, but surely something must be done. An image of God has lost his life, and the Law demands life for life. But whose ought it to be? How is Israel to expunge the evil and the guilt from herself? So, the rules are set out. The nearest town is to take the responsibility not for the act itself, but for pursuing the forgiveness of God for its having happened.
In the course of this pursuit, we arrive at the visual of the elders washing their hands over the sacrifice being offered on behalf of the slain man. They wash their hands and declare that they were neither responsible for his death themselves, nor were they witnesses to the event. They are professing themselves innocent in the matter, and beseeching God that He not set the guilt for this bloodshed upon those who are innocent. God’s promise in the matter is that He shall indeed remove any bloodguilt associated with that death from not only the city itself, it would seem, but from the whole of Israel (Dt 21:6-8).
I admit that upon first scanning that passage, my mind connected it with the sanctuary cities, which actually reduces the power of the connection quite a bit. Looking at that passage in its setting, the parallel to the case of Jesus is far more evident, and I come to perceive Pilate’s actions as taking upon themselves a prophetic tinge not unlike Caiaphas’ unwitting prophecy. Pilate, I suspect, is drawing upon his own knowledge of Jewish practice in taking this action. So far as I know, it was not a matter of common practice in Roman society. There would have been no need, certainly, for the justice to declare himself innocent of a matter over which he presided. He was the authority! He had but to proclaim the just decision and it was done. Pilate, of course, has fallen short of that standard. But, he wishes the record to show that he has done so in extremis.
He recognizes his primary duty as governor over this region to consist in maintaining the peace. It has been in the interest of doing so that he has knowingly perverted justice in this case. It has seemed to him the lesser of two evils. But, at the same time there was that dream his wife reported. What if? What if this really is the foretold King of the Jews? One suspects that if Herod the Great was aware of this coming king, Pilate was as well. Pilate had certainly had sufficient cause to become a bit familiar with local custom and religion, having been brought up short by it a few times already. At any rate, he has apparently familiarized himself with this particular aspect of Mosaic Law, and finds it advantageous to make use of it.
Why would he do so? Was it to appease the locals? I don’t think so. Their murderous intentions were already appeased with his buckling under and handing Jesus over for the desired punishment. Sick, these people, but there it is. Besides, the hand-washing business had nothing to do with appeasing people, and everything to do with appeasing God. This was something a Roman could understand. Yes, if this was truly the King of the Jews, backed by the God of the Jews, best he make his case. Now, he wasn’t going to go all the way with this ritual. For, the body had not as yet been found outside the walls, nor could he honestly proclaim that he had no part in the proceedings. But, he would wash his hands and these people would understand the point from their own upbringing. Guilt for his death is not coming on me, folks! You chose it. You own it.
Before I move to the reaction from the people, though, let me back up and look at the picture. I said that Pilate was not performing the entire ritual, but that holds true only from his perspective. What was missing? The sacrifice. Granted, the ritual indicated said sacrifice should have already been slaughtered by this point, but there, standing before Pilate’s judgment, was the Sacrifice. Indeed, He would be sacrificed to purchase the forgiveness of His people. Is it, then, any wonder that Matthew would include this event when describing the arrival of the kingdom to them? He doesn’t even bother, on this occasion, to connect the dots. His readers are capable of doing so by themselves. The imagery is too singular to miss, and he has pointed out enough of the other cases that this one really should register on its own.
What is also striking is the way in which Pilate’s reaction to their bloodlust echoes the reaction of the priests when Judas came seeking to right the matter. He was seeking forgiveness for his sin, because he saw that he was responsible for what would doubtless be the death of Jesus. He was responsible for shedding innocent blood (Mt 27:4). And the priests, the ones who were to serve as the mediators between sinful man and holy God, had nothing for him but this: “See to it yourself!” Of course, this was their way of deflecting their own guilt, or refusing to look at it. “Not our problem. We didn’t do it.” Never mind that we paid you to do it for us. See? Our hands are clean. And now, here’s Pilate, who is almost certainly unaware of that little drama, saying, “My hands are clean. You want this Man murdered, see to it yourself!”
Now, we must hear a note of hyperbole in that, for there was no way Pilate was going to allow them to take care of the execution. They were quite right in what they had said earlier, imposing a death sentence was not permitted them. It was a privilege reserved to Roman governance. There was much that Israel had been allowed as a province, but this was beyond that allowance. So, as much as he is telling them to see to it themselves, it will remain his command that sets events in motion.
But, look at the response of the people. “His blood be on us and on our children!” It is tempting, certainly, to suppose that Matthew has taken liberty with events to invest the scene with a higher sense of drama. But, that would be to suppose that God allowed error into the testimony, which is and ought to be unthinkable. It must be accepted that this was the real reaction of that crowd to the real actions of Pilate. The nature of this response seems to me to move beyond the merely judicial. Yes, this is a courtroom scene, and they are part of that scene. One has reason to expect a certain degree of legal language in their reply to the judge. But, this feels as if it has gone beyond the lingo of the courtroom and into that of covenant. That, too, would not be terribly surprising given the situation. They are a ruled people, and this is the representative of that conquering, ruling power. He and they are, in this case, reaching a binding legal agreement with one another. He, knowing the man innocent, is yet acceding to the Jewish demand for His death. They, unwilling and unable to provide solid grounds for a legal Roman execution, accept his adjudication. Yes, we concur the Man is innocent, but we shall have Him dead anyway.
Stronger still, this being the language of covenant, it necessarily involves God as witness and arbiter of what has been covenanted. It is an invitation to God to be the Avenger of His Son’s blood, and admission of guilt, really. Yes, yes. Get on with it Pilate, we’ll take responsibility. What this must surely demonstrate is how far that society had removed itself from any fear of God. And, of course, there are the chief priests in their midst prompting the whole affair! A priesthood who, being absolutely aware of the innocence of their victim, are calling down God to avenge Himself upon them for their murderous intent, is a priesthood that has no God. It can hardly be any wonder that a people with such spiritual leadership abide in a spiritual desert. “His blood be upon us and upon our children!” How mindless can one be? How thoughtless not only of one’s own well-being, but careless of all life!
History would soon show that God heard their prayer in this matter, and answered them. Jerusalem’s fall would be a particularly ghastly affair. Indeed, as I have often noted, the record of that final period of the nation before Rome leveled the place is one of a thoroughgoing inhumanity. Never mind thought for God. They had become as animals, with no thought for human dignity, even.
Yet, in another respect, God honored that prayer in a more positive way. For, His blood is upon us, but not for revenge. Rather, for forgiveness. His promise is to us and to our households. It is for those of us who have already drawn near and for those who are as yet far from Him. No, it is not universal in its application. But, thanks to His having been retained for punishment He never deserved, we who are called by His Father and ours have been preserved from the punishment we have earned repeatedly.
Glory be to the God Who rescued us at so great a cost to Himself! How shall I ever hope to express sufficient thanks for that great sacrifice? What degree of humility would ever suit the true nature of things? I should be groveling in the dust day after day seeking that You would not refuse me this forgiveness. Yet, this is not what You require. You require that I walk with You, not crawl before You. You require that I confess and repent, and this I gladly do, for I know Your forgiveness awaits. You have not condemned me, though I know I deserve it. No! You have adopted me. There in that crowd, foolishly led and foolishly following, there were doubtless those who would recognize the error of their ways shortly. There were those in that crowd, I suppose, who heard Peter’s message a few weeks later and were adopted even as I have been. Amazing, Lord, how great your forgiveness is! Truly, there is none so far gone You cannot rescue. There is no case upon which we could look and say this one is surely lost. For we would have to begin with ourselves, and You have made it abundantly clear that we are not lost, however much it may feel that way at times. No, we are not lost. We are saved. We are saved in spite of ourselves, from ourselves, and we have only You to thank, so all our thanks be to You.
When I consider these four accounts with an eye to which single verse captures the matter most succinctly, I am drawn to consider Luke 23:25 as the summation of all that is depicted. I do so because there is an assessment of the choice made by the priests and their mobs that fully exposes the sinfulness of the act. Never mind that it is the Son of God Himself that they have worked to condemn unjustly. Consider the one whom they have asked for in His stead! Pilate, Luke tells us, “released the man they were asking for,” or, as it is stated in the KJV, the man ‘whom they had desired’. Clearly, then, they are implicated in what follows upon this action at least as much as Pilate is. Luke goes on to describe the one they would have go free. He was in prison “for insurrection and murder.”
This was the man they wanted. And, lest we lose sight of just what sort of man this was, he was no hero of the people, even if some may have thought him so. He was, as John paints his picture, a robber; not just a sneak-thief or opportunistic looter. No, he was one who was both prepared and inclined to use violence in his robbery. That is the distinction we must make between a robber and a thief. He is a brigand, a rabble-rousing murderer. If he has made himself part of some insurrection, rest assured it was for no national purpose, but solely as cover for his brigandry. Murder in pursuit of rebellion against Rome? Not so, says John. It was murder in pursuit of no grander purpose than robbery. And, this man Israel preferred over the Son of God. This man, the priests advocated for rather than the Son of God.
It is equally shocking that Pilate would even consider the release of such a one. Here was one truly accused of insurrection, against whom the charged at least stuck, whatever his real motivations were. And, on the other hand stands Jesus, accused of such insurrectionist tendencies, but without the slightest proof. Take heed of the point both Matthew and Mark express: He knew full well that the only reason Jesus was on trial was because of the envy of the chief priests. They felt their prestige threatened. They wanted the popularity and reputation that were His. They wanted to retain their hold on power over Israel, and if this were truly the King, He had the authority to wrest that power from their hands should He so please. As the Son of God, He absolutely had the power. And, given their activities, He had the motive. But, it was envy moved them, and Pilate knew it. Yet, he released this confirmed criminal both against life and against Rome.
In doing so, he clearly was hoping to quiet the mob. Perhaps he could yet preserve Jesus from the ultimate penalty, having made this concession. But, in reality, as we see the story continue to unfold, he has weakened his position. When they start noising about that he is no friend of Caesar, it’s not just his being soft on Jesus that they can use against him, should he so choose. It’s also this Barabbas whom he has already released. A known insurrectionist against Rome, Pilate, and you let him go. How’s that going to go over back at the head office? Do you want us to send word of this, or will you be doing as we demand?
Go back to that matter of envy. What is it? Is it merely lusting after what another has? Is it merely the feeling that there is some inherent unfairness in a system that lets the Joneses have plenty when we have only enough? Is it that their car is nicer than ours, their clothes better, and we long to be like them? No, it’s something far uglier. It begins there, but it isn’t satisfied to stay there. It festers, metastasizes. Soon, it’s more than just a jealous longing for more. It’s actual feelings of pain and of anger upon beholding another’s joy and bounty.
Imagine that! I don’t have to. I remember it clearly. I used to suffer terribly from this when in pursuit of a particularly difficult to find record. There weren’t that many amongst my acquaintances whose tastes were sufficiently similar as to make them competitors on this particular hunt, but there were a few. And, should they arrive at the particular find before me? Oh, the anger! Oh, the resentment! How is it possible that this bozo can go out and buy as many records as he cares to, and I, I (who am so clearly superior) have to scrimp and save, and by the time I get there, they no longer have said record. It’s so unfair. And, he really should have thought of me, bought me a copy while he was at it, or even sacrificed his own that I might have mine. Pretty realistic thinking, isn’t it? Perfectly sensible.
Now, push that into matters more nearly life or death. The priests, at the least, felt their livelihood threatened by Jesus. That lies somewhere very near the envious way they perceive Him. It’s not just jealousy over His popularity, it’s the certainty that His popularity, His ability to do miracles, His persuasive hold on the people should all be theirs by right. They are, after all, the chief priests! They are the official authority of the Church, what right has this young upstart to turn the tables on them? What right has He to disrupt their profitable courtyard operations? Who is HE to be winning hearts and minds, and issuing corrections to them? He must be stopped, or they might very well be out of power, out of a job, and (consider this!) subject to the reprisals of those they’ve been ripping off all these years. Not good prospects.
And, these are motives Pilate understands very well. He suffers them himself. We term such concerns politics. And, Roman politics were a particularly brutal variant of the game. It was all about who you knew, where favors had been done, and where they could be called in. And, come a change in the top power, one’s previously solid power structure could suddenly become very wobbly indeed. It would happen to Pilate, in spite of his efforts here. It would happen to Herod, the friend he has made this day. Both would become, as it were, victims of the change of Caesars back in Rome. They were in favor today, and could more or less do as they pleased with their respective provinces, but when Caligula took to the throne, their political capital was pretty thoroughly spent.
So, Luke gives us this mighty summation of the contrast between Barabbas who was freed, and Jesus who was not. But, it is starker even than that, as some translations still manage to demonstrate. For, if we are to accept certain of those underlying manuscripts, Barabbas also bore the name Jesus, so that we have Pilate saying, “Whom would you have me release, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus called Christ (or Messiah)?” Now, the name Barabbas, if we break it apart, becomes pretty obvious in its translation, doesn’t it? Bar abba. Even we benighted Gentiles recognize that bar indicates son of, and Scripture itself points out our right to pray to God as our Abba, our Father. So, we have Jesus, Son of the Father, and Jesus Messiah, which properly understood implies Son of God.
When we come to these verses in the NKJV, the sections are headed with the title, “Taking the Place of Barabbas”. That must assume a certain flow of events leading to this moment. It must assume that Pilate was planning to hold court today anyway, and the mob arriving early with Jesus in tow didn’t shift his schedule for the day, only got Him on the docket first. That’s not unreasonable to suppose, probably more reasonable than thinking Pilate was so pliant a governor that he would start a court session just because this crowd showed up at his door. No. I can’t see him doing that. It would have been the end of his authority with these men, and well would he know it.
But, there is this aspect: He knows that the priests are playing some political game with Jesus. There is no crime to be found here. They never do quite get around to telling him on what grounds they think He should be put to death. They just make insinuations, charges that are highly unlikely to be coming from any priest. Oh! He’s preaching against taxation! He’s trying to overthrow your governance! That’s as may be, but the charges would be far more believable coming from somebody who wasn’t firmly in favor of the self-same things.
He also knows that the priests are playing this crowd. So, it strikes me that by displaying Jesus Barabbas and Jesus Messiah next to each other, stressing the point of their shared name, that he is attempting to provide the crowd with cause to stand down, or at least redirect their rage. Perhaps, he seems to be suggesting, you’ve confused the names. Surely, it’s this guy over here you wanted crucified? His guilt has already been determined, and justice would be well served in that case. But, this man? He’s innocent. The charges against Him are patent nonsense. Friends, it seems to be a matter of mistaken identity. Let’s set it straight before things have gone too far. Such an approach would have given everybody an out and seen justice served. The priests could have accepted the point. Oh, yes. Sorry. Wrong man, you’re quite right. And the mob, rather than verging on riot, would have been settled by the clarification. They would see their desired spectacle, Roman justice would be upheld, and there would be zero political risk for Pilate. It’s an all-around win! Except that it doesn’t work out.
I have been looking primarily at the distinctions between the various accounts thus far, but it should be clear that at least the three Synoptic gospels share one thing in common as they relate this part. All of them stress that the chief priests and their crew are the primary culprits in what happened. Luke points to the way in which Pilate kept trying to shift the crowd, convince them to step back from the brink, that it was only as riot threatened that his will to do what was right broke. Mark is somewhat less generous regarding Pilate, but still leaves the mob as the primary culprits. For Pilate’s part, his failing is that he wished to satisfy the multitude (Mk 15:15).
For my own part, I find that description of Pilate’s weakness very much humanizing. He is not some incomprehensible ogre, perverting justice on a whim. Herod, one suspects, might have done so, but Pilate seems to take things at least a bit more seriously. His problem is that he wants to please. Now, with our understanding of the political situation, we might suppose that his desire to please was in reality entirely self-serving. When is it not? The thing is, it is a desire I can all too readily sympathize with. I, too, am easily moved to act simply from a desire to get along, or to be accepted. It may simply be that I share this particular character flaw with Pilate, and that it is not a matter common to man. But, I think I’ll stick with the Scriptural diagnosis that indicates my temptations are nothing so rare as all that.
It’s a powerful urge, this desire to perform up to expectations. In many ways, it is a positive urge, for as we shape those desires with the moral guidance of God, and as we surround ourselves with the people of God, the urge to meet expectations becomes a spur toward godliness, toward sanctification. Is this not at least one reason behind Scripture’s admonition to be with the body? But, that same desire can also lead us to become adept at dead works. We minister not out of love for God but out of a sense of duty. I could go so far as to consider why I was leading our small prayer group last night. Truth be told, I had thought to simply take the night off, but the leader called and requested I stand in, and fine, I’ll do it. Can’t let the group down, can I? God was not in it, at least not at a conscious level. I will note in my defense that it seems to be a recurring matter that when my desire to be at prayer is at its lowest ebb, it is made necessary that I be there. Skipping is rendered a non-option. This, I dare say, is the hand of God in action.
Those urges effect us in our work-life, as well, and again it has both positive and negative potentials. It is good, even required of us by our Lord, that we give our employer’s their money’s worth, that we labor not as giving lip-service to our jobs, but as working unto the Lord. For, that is really what we do and why. We work for Him regardless of our employ, regardless of who is signing our paycheck. It remains God Who provides, and we are well-served to remain mindful of that. Surely, the situation can be changed in merest moments, and we find ourselves left to our own devices, having proved negligent of the hand of Providence. I don’t say this of the elect, although we are certainly capable of losing sight of the Truth as to our existence and subsistence. But, the point remains. We ought to be concerned to retain a sense of just Who it is we deal with, whether in church, at home or at work.
But, let me back up a few verses in Mark’s account, and I find Pilate asking this of the crowd. “Then what shall I do with Him whom you call the King of the Jews?” Look carefully at that. In fact, let me repeat it with a small point of emphasis. “Then what shall I do with Him whom you call the King of the Jews?” That one word rather changes the question, I think. With that word, we may understand that Pilate does not consider him to be so, although his later actions suggest that he may well concur with the assessment. More telling, in this court scene, it would seem to emphasize that Jesus has made no such claim. You keep calling Him this, and have made it a prime point in your case against Him, yet He Himself makes no such claim. Oh, yes, He claims to be a king, but not of this realm. He’s more of a philosopher king, if I understand Him correctly. You calling Him this title does not make Him guilty of seeking this title. Perhaps I read too much into it, but it does seem to point the finger of guilt and responsibility back upon that crowd in the square.
For Matthew, the points is explicitly made when he writes of their accepting the guilt for His death. I have touched on that point already, that scene particular to his account wherein Pilate washes his hands, and the mob makes formal agreement that if they are indeed taking an innocent life, they are the ones responsible, and it is against them that vengeance is due. I have already noted how this connects to Mosaic practice. What I would consider now is how that event also connects with subsequent events in the Scriptural record. In particular, I think of Peter’s first sermon, not so many weeks after this event. “You disowned the Holy and Righteous One, and asked for a murderer to be granted to you, but put to death the Prince of life, whom God raised from the dead, a fact to which we are witnesses” (Ac 3:14-15). Now, I am reasonably certain the fact Peter is claiming witness to is that of Jesus’ resurrection. But, I also suspect that he (and those with him) were witness to their oath, there in the square before Pilate. “On our heads be it.”
There are echoes of this, as well, when the apostles are hauled before the Sanhedrin. Notice the comment of the high priest. “We gave you strict orders not to continue teaching in this name, and look! You have filled Jerusalem with your teaching. You intend to bring this man’s blood upon us” (Ac 5:28). Indeed, it was no effort on the apostles’ part that made this so, nor had they any interest in such pursuits. They had already taken His blood upon themselves in the presence of all. “His blood be on us!” Oh, it was, but not after the fashion that it could have been.
Truly, the apostles could say the same, as can the elect through all the ages. His blood is upon us, but as the mark of the Paschal Lamb, the seal of our salvation and the price of our guilt, paid in full, He being the propitiation for our sins (1Jn 2:2). And, praise God for it! But, for them, they who rejected the Son more vehemently than ever, it was upon them not for salvation but for the vengeance of the Lord Himself. It was, after all, the blood of His own Son which spoke against them, and that not in isolation but as the culmination of a long and sordid history of falsity to their purported faith. Go back to the words of Jesus to this same priesthood not that long ago. I’ll take it from the NASB, as I’ve been doing with many of the quotes today. “You serpents, you brood of vipers, how shall you escape the sentence of hell? Therefore, behold, I am sending you prophets and wise men and scribes; some of them you will kill and crucify, and some of them you will scourge in your synagogues, and persecute from city to city, that upon you may fall the guilt of all the righteous blood shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah, the son of Berechiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar. Truly I say to you, all these things shall come upon this generation” (Mt 23:33-36).
There can be no claim of ignorance here. He had reminded them of the record. He had done His best to bring them to their senses, as He proceeds to say in regard to His people. But, ‘you were unwilling’. So, there they are, having moved from the court of the temple, where they heard this message, to the court of judgment, where they prove the message true. “His blood be upon us!” And yet, these same priests who stirred the people to the most sinful of sins have the audacity, the unfathomable unawareness of self, to accuse the apostles of trying to bring His blood upon their heads. No need, no need. You’ve already seen to that yourselves. Indeed, I would go so far as to suggest that the apostles, if anything, were praying that these men might yet see the light before that blood was required of them. But, Jesus had already proclaimed the futility of that effort. “You were unwilling.” And now, “Behold, your house is being left to you desolate” (Mt 23:38)!
In fairness, that house had long been desolate. They had desolated it themselves. Religion had become, at least by these practitioners in the temple, a thing not merely empty, but a total sham, and a deadly one at that. I mentioned it elsewhere in my preparatory notes, but it bears repeating. If one contemplates the fundamentals of Mosaic Law as we have them in the Ten Commandments, it’s hard to find one that they have not violated just in the course of this one day. They have born false witness with abandon. They have murdered, though the final act of that particular sin remains a few hours off at this point. They have coveted. They have stolen the very glory of God. They have made their own positions an idol of far greater value to themselves than the God they claim to serve. Can it be supposed that the actions they have undertaken today somehow honor their parents? It remains only to go back to standard practices, as Jesus has revealed them, to see how thin that honoring is anyway. It must be sacrificed at the altar of their own idolatrous pride. Sorry folks, can’t help. Everything’s tied up in corban. My, but aren’t I the holy one! No, as I said before, about the only charge that can’t be leveled at them on this particular day is adultery, and it isn’t hard to imagine that this charge, too, would easily stick if opportunity did but present itself. And this was the leadership! This was the moral guidance for a nation, a nation of God’s own choosing.
I would be doing the message a grave disservice to leave it a matter of them, back there in the dusty past. These things are written not so that we can point out their flaws, not so that we can feel ourselves better men as we look upon their failures. No! They are written as instruction for us, as warnings for us. For, it doesn’t take a great deal of effort to look around and see the same landscape today. There are plenty in both pulpit and pew for whom religion is but a means to an end, and that end remains a matter wholly of this life. There are many, even in regular attendance, who have not thought for eternity, only for what they might gain by their association with the church community. Even here, though, it is too easy to point at others and leave ourselves the heroes of the faith.
That, too, is problematic. Truth be told, I would have to admit that my own pursuit of the Christian life is not always as it should be. I have not arrived at some summit from whence I look out upon the approach of eternity, having left behind all earthly concerns. Nor can I claim that my motives are always so pure. There remains an ego in me that appreciates being appreciated. There remains a wound in me that supposes it can be healed by doing more, doing better. It’s false, but it’s there. It is, in better moments, a reminder that I am still a work in God’s hands, not a worker with God’s hands. I still have a ways to go, and it is only as He wills and works within me that I have hope of making progress.
So it is, I must recognize, with those others of which I have been speaking. They, too, can only progress as He provides the progress. Who am I to judge? There is a line, I suspect, beyond which judgment is the correct response. The church is not called to be blithely ignorant, but wise and more to the point, forgiving. We are to hope the best. But, simultaneously we must also be realists and recognize the potential worst. When we see things trending for the worse, our first recourse is to pray, to seek that God would so will and work first in us, but also in those others, that His glory might be made evident, that the trends would reverse, that holiness might prevail in our land and in our lifetime. This must surely require a heart of forgiveness in us, a heart reflecting God’s own heart of forgiveness. Yes, there will be those who are truly lost and hardened, lest they turn and be forgiven. But, we must not be hasty to assume that state for any man. We, after all, should be the first candidates for such assumption! It’s quite possible, isn’t it, that our failure to deal more purposefully with our own sin is evidence of the very heart we so quickly espy in our brother? It’s possible, isn’t it, that our preoccupation of their specks while ignoring our own planks might not be so good a sign for our own spiritual progress? Well, then. First our own house, then we can see to the houses of others.
Here is one other house that, it strikes me, might come out of the events covered in these verses with a bum rap. I speak of the apostles, and perhaps of those others who were counted disciples. There is nothing in any of the accounts to suggest that they offered even the least defense of their Teacher as He stood trial. There is no hint that they raised their voices in opposition to the mob. Really? Not even a note of disagreement? Of course, we don’t know how many of the disciples were present amidst the crowd. But, suppose the 120 who were later in the upper room. 120 people make a noise, even amidst a greater crowd, and they are numerous enough to hold their own if things got a little ugly. Surely, if there had been some vocal opposition out there, one of these guys would have seen fit to report it, wouldn’t they? Yet we hear nothing. And we may be inclined to react poorly in our opinion of these men.
But, let us consider their case just a little more carefully. Consider what these men, particularly the twelve, but not only they, had witnessed regarding the One who was on trial. They had been with Him out in that boat on the Sea of Galilee, when the waves had been so steep they feared the boat would be lost and them with it. And He had simply told that storm to shut up and it ceased! They had seen Him feed thousands with what was near enough to nothing as made no difference. They had seen Him speak their friend Lazarus from the grave! From the grave! He had been lying dead some three days, and here Jesus just tells him to come back and he’s there. Shoot, he’s here in the crowd. It wasn’t just the twelve knew about that one. This was big news. This was, truth be told, a large part of what finally moved the priests to act on their plans against Jesus. It was getting too big.
For the twelve, though, what would be the cumulative effect of these experiences as they saw their Teacher on trial? It seems to me they had little enough cause to fear for Him. He Who had done as He had, He Who was, as they themselves had recognized, the very Son of God, was not in any real danger here. If anything, Pilate and the priests were in danger. Surely, any moment now, He would be calling down the very forces of heaven and earth against those who were persecuting Him. He could absolutely take care of Himself, and I suspect that the disciples who were there were primarily wondering when He would act and in what fashion. That He would submit to the judgment passed against Him was, in spite of His repeated lessons on the subject, simply unfathomable. There was no reason for Him to submit. There was no power could hold Him. They didn’t simply believe this to be the case. They knew it. They had seen it. They had been in the midst of it.
So, let me propose this, as regards our friends, the apostles. Slow to learn they may have been, as must be said of us as well. But, here, it was not cowardice that held them back. Rather, it was faith. Indeed, would that our own faith in God were so strong as to look upon even so impossible a situation and simply assume that He can yet do what He wants. He can. That much is certain, as much as we sometimes question it by our own doubts. He can. The thing that weakens our faith, it strikes me, is not that we don’t think He can do as He wills. The thing that weakens our faith is the dead-set and ill-founded supposition that His will must surely follow ours. But, Lord, we prayed for You to do thus and so, and You did not. You said we could pray whatever we want and You would do it, so what’s up? You can’t do it after all? I’m crushed.
The problem is not His power or His ability. He is infinitely supplied with both. The problem is that His will is the thing which must be done, not ours. It is no sign of weak faith if we should join in the example of Jesus by adding that postscript to our prayers, ‘nevertheless, Thy will be done’. Indeed, that ought to be the foundational premise of our prayers, the first thought, the last thought, and every thought between. If we would see God answer prayers according to our will, we must first accord our will to His. He is not required to violate His own sovereign purpose simply because we prayed some foolish prayer. He calls us to pray according to His will, as a people led, informed, instructed by the Holy Spirit of God Himself, Who Himself has taken up residence within us. We are called to pray as the people of God, not as those seeking an easier life. If we would but pray as He leads, rather than as our own whims and wants may mislead, we would see answers far and away beyond all we thought to ask for! He is able, and our faith has a foundation so solid as to be indestructible. But, He is sovereign and ever shall be. We, as even the Apostles insisted of themselves, are but His bondservants. Ours not to command, but to obey and to serve.
