Text:  Synoptic Passion Reading from the Four Gospels                                                      X Good Friday X

The Great Exchange

            In the name of him who loved us and gave himself for us, dear friends in Christ: The morning of Good Friday, early, sometime before eight o’clock, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea, was a man caught between a rock and a hard place.  He had before him the chief priests and leaders of the Jews, along with a large crowd of their very vocal supporters, all angrily demanding that a sentence of death be passed upon the prisoner they had brought to him. This man Jesus of Nazareth, they claimed, was a dangerous criminal and a disturber of the peace, who was stirring up political unrest throughout the entire region.  They had many other accusations; but Pilate knew the truth: that they had brought Jesus here because they considered him a threat to their own authority and prestige.  He knew that Jesus was a religious teacher whose doctrines and methods were upsetting them for two reasons:  because they were different than their own teachings, and because they were gaining popularity.  And that made them jealous.  The whole thing was about religion, and “market share” of the people’s attention; and Pilate could not have cared less about it.  Rome simply wasn’t interested in which gods their subjects worshipped or how they worshipped them as long as they obeyed the law and paid their taxes. There was absolutely nothing about this Jesus that substantiated the charges they were bringing against him. The fact that Jesus refused to respond to any of them only made his accusers seem more ridiculous as they heaped up ever more outlandish allegations against him.  If only a fraction of what they were saying was true, this Jesus was the most dangerous man in the empire; but the reports Pilate had received from his own people assured him that there was nothing criminal or subversive about him.   And so Pilate knew that the right way to end this whole ugly affair was simply to throw the case out and order the release of Jesus.

            It should have been that simple.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t, mostly because Pilate was worried about maintaining his own authority and prestige.  This position he had as governor of Judea was a pretty good gig – one that he had secured for himself with a combination of luck, knowing the right people, and being in the right place at the right time. Considering the circumstances of his family and his relatively humble birth, having this job was more than he could have hoped for in life; and the odds were that after a successful tour of duty out here in the provinces, he could count on achieving even higher positions upon returning to Rome. But things weren’t going well for him lately.  One reason was that the man who had been most responsible for getting the Emperor to appoint him to this position, a man named Sejanus, who was the head of the Praetorian Guard and the Emperor’s chief advisor, was discovered to be a traitor who was planning to bump off the royal family of the Caesars and take control of the Empire himself.  The Emperor had him executed along with everyone else whom he suspected to be part of the plot.  He had their families killed too, just to be thorough.  And while there was no evidence to suggest that Pilate was involved in any way, he was still under a dark cloud of suspicion because he had been recommended by Sejanus.  So for now, anyway, Pilate had the misfortune of being closely associated in the mind of the Emperor with the evil, scheming man who had tried to kill him.

             And if that weren’t bad enough, there were a few recent missteps that made things worse. You see, Pilate didn’t understand the Jews very well at first.  He didn’t know how fanatical they were about the practice of their faith and how sensitive they were about having the idols and representations of other gods around – especially around their temple in Jerusalem. Nor did he know that the Emperor Augustus, who was the present Emperors’ stepfather, had granted the Jews special permission not to have to display the religious articles of Rome in and around the temple.  And so it happened, in an effort to show that Rome was the boss and to throw his own weight around a little, and most importantly to prove how loyal he was to the Emperor, Pilate had a set of great bronze shields made in the Emperor’s honor that were decorated with various Roman gods and goddesses, and he had them displayed on the walls of the Roman fortress immediately adjacent to the temple.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, one that might earn him some favor – favor that he desperately needed – but his plan backfired horribly.  When they saw the shields, the Jews went crazy with rage, and there was mass rioting in Jerusalem over this terrible affront to the Lord God.  The Jews demanded that Pilate take the shields down and remove them. In the face of this firestorm he had inadvertently caused, Pilate had the shields put inside the fortress, where they would be out of sight of the Jews; but that wasn’t good enough.  The very fact that they were near the temple at all infuriated the Jews, and now that they had Pilate retreating, they were going to push him back as far as they could.  They demanded that the shields be taken out of the city.  Pilate dug in his heels at this point.  So the Jews sent a delegation to Rome to complain directly to the Emperor about Pilate’s stubborn insensitivity, his disdain of their traditions, and his violation of Augustus’ wise decree.  In response, the Emperor sent to Pilate one of those letters no one ever wants to get from the boss:  the kind that make you feel insignificant, stupid, incompetent, and dangerously close to losing your job and maybe your head too.  Pilate removed the shields from the city.

            That and a couple of similar episodes made Pilate realize that he was walking on some very thin ice.  And that’s why he found himself in such a tight spot when Jesus was brought to him. On one hand, it was his job to uphold Roman law and order.  He had to assume control of the situation.  He could not let himself appear to be weak and to bend before the demands of these lawless Jews.  That was no way to govern, and he knew it.  On the other hand, if he didn’t give them what they wanted and they complained to the Emperor about his letting an anti-Roman rebel go free, well, he had a pretty good idea where that would lead.  Earlier in the trial, he thought he found his way out when he heard that Jesus was from Galilee, which was Herod’s jurisdiction, not his.  And Herod just happened to be in town for the Passover celebration.  So Pilate sent Jesus to Herod for him to deal with; but Herod sent him back.  The crimes Jesus was accused of took place in Judea.  It was Pilate’s case.

            And so it is that we find Pilate scrambling to find another way to let Jesus go, but to do so in a way that would not result in more trouble with the Emperor.  That’s when he remembered the annual Passover tradition by which he released one prisoner from the Roman dungeons, whichever one the crowd chose.  It was a gesture of Roman benevolence that on the festival on which the Jews remembered their freedom from slavery that they were allowed to have one of their own set free.  To Pilate it seemed foolproof.  He knew that it was the religious leaders who hated Jesus, but that he was quite popular with the crowd.  If the crowd asked for Jesus, Pilate could tell the Jewish leaders, “Hey, I’d like to help you guys, but the crowd has spoken.”  They couldn’t complain to the Emperor if their argument was with their own people.  And just to hedge his bet, he put up against Jesus someone whom he knew that the crowd was quite happy to see in Roman custody and sitting on death row:  a man named Barabbas.

Barabbas was a notorious ne’er-do-well and murderer, and probably had been most of his life.  In some fictionalized accounts you may have seen, he is portrayed as a rebel against Rome, and therefore something of a local folk hero; but Pilate would not have been so stupid to put up a man like that.  No, to release Jesus he would have put forth the kind of guy that everyone would agree that the world is better without:  a bully, a fighter, a extortionist; a man who cares nothing for anyone and whose criminal history is such that people would line up to buy lottery tickets to be part of the execution detail.  The case of that fellow in Florida who kidnapped a child from her home and raped and murdered her comes to mind.  That’s the kind of guy Barabbas was.

And it may be that we get a bit of his history from his unusual name.  Normally Jewish men in this period were known by two names: their first name followed by their father’s name with the prefix “Bar”, which means “son of”.  So, for example, Simon Bar Jonah, which was Peter’s real name, means Simon son of Jonah.  Barabbas (or more properly Bar Abbas) doesn’t seem to have a first name.   It’s almost like no one bothered to take the time to give him one.  And the “Abbas” in his last name means “father”.  So his name actually means “son of father” – which is pretty generic and probably indicates there was some question about his parentage and that no one wanted to claim him.  From his mother’s perspective he was his father’s son – whoever his father was, and she didn’t know for sure – nor did she seem to care.  And yes, this is speculation; but I’d call it an educated guess; and I’d further speculate that Barabbas grew up as a child of the dirty streets and back alleys, unwanted, unloved, and thereby learning to love no one, surviving only by his wits, his will to survive, and his willingness to be meaner and tougher than the competition. 

So now, when Pontius Pilate offers to free either Jesus or Barabbas, he believes it’s his way out. He knows that the crowd couldn’t possibly want Barabbas, and that Jesus has lots of popular support.  What he doesn’t know, however, is that Jesus’ supporters are all afraid.  Most of them have run off and are hiding.  And the few that are around to witness the present goings-on are scared into silence.  At the same time, the leaders and chief priests are campaigning for Barabbas.  There are several reasons why the crowd would agree to choose him.  Some because they think like their leaders do, others because they’re disappointed in Jesus – he’s not the Messiah they’d hoped for; some, like the money changers at the temple, because Jesus threatens their livelihood, and some because they’re just the kind of riff-raff who always seem to attach themselves to destructive mobs.  But I suspect that for many it had something to do with Jewish pride and nationalism. If the crowd chooses Barabbas, they show their support for their own leaders over and against the plans and desires of the hated Romans.  It’s a way to thumb their noses at Rome and to manipulate the governor.  It’s a way to control Pilate and make him look like a fool – and it’s too good an opportunity to turn down.  They call for the release of Barabbas.

So Pilate is frustrated once again in his effort to escape his dilemma; but he gives it one more try. Though he knows Jesus is innocent, he orders him to be beaten.  Such beatings were done with very heavy whips or with wooden rods and they frightful to watch.  The goal was to bruise the victim deeply and to crack a few ribs so that he’d have a long recovery period and plenty of time to reflect upon his misdeeds.  It was the kind of punishment meted out to serious criminals who didn’t quite deserve the death penalty.  In ordering it for Jesus, Pilate knows it’s a concession that he should not make:  it’s wrong to beat an innocent man; but he hopes that it will satisfy the Jewish leaders’ bloodlust, and at the same time, earn Jesus the sympathy of the crowd so that when he offers again to let Jesus go, they’ll agree.

But as we heard, in the end it only added to Jesus’ suffering.  The leaders and the crowd saw they had Pilate on the ropes.  His weakness in dealing with them proved that if they kept pushing, they could get whatever they wanted.  Pilate finally caved in – though not without one last failed effort to maintain his dignity.  By washing his hands before them he hoped to distance himself from this miscarriage of justice that he was presiding over; but that water could not wash away his responsibility or his guilt for Jesus’ death.

And so it was that the exchange took place:  the notorious, justly condemned murderer, “son of father”, was set free, while the perfectly righteous Son of the Father was condemned to die – to die by the most cruel and brutal form of torture ever conceived.  Having already been beaten once, Jesus was flogged again; this time with the flesh-tearing flagellum administered to all those who were to be crucified.  All the while his tormentors and enemies jeered at him, deriving sadistic pleasure from his pain.  Later, suspended between heaven and earth by iron spikes that pulled on tender wounds and grated against bone, they continued their taunting, “If you are the Son of God, save yourself!”

But it was precisely because he was the Son of God that he did not save himself.  For this he had come into the world and been born a son of man: to make this great exchange. Everyone else in this story – in this whole world – has but one goal: to save himself.  That’s why the Jewish leaders brought Jesus to Pilate. That’s why Pilate vacillated and ultimately caved in.  That’s why Barabbas led the life of crime he did.  That’s why we sin against God and our neighbors every day.  Everyone is trying to save or do something for himself at the expense of others.  That’s what sin is all about.  It’s the exact opposite of love – love that forgets self and gladly suffers whatever it takes for the benefit of others.  God is such love, and so God makes the great exchange.  He takes all that harms us on himself:  our sin, our justly deserved suffering, and our death; and he gives us his own righteousness and life. 

            And we too must make exchanges.  We must exchange our own faces for the people in this story.  We must see ourselves among the leaders who willfully want to destroy Jesus.  They oppose Jesus because he threatens their sense of their own goodness – their belief that they are able to save themselves.  We stand with them whenever we imagine that we are pleasing God by our obedience to his commands.  We must see ourselves in the crowd.  They have mixed motives for wanting to destroy Jesus:  their livelihoods, their wicked pleasures, their desire to be in charge – to play God, whatever.  It all amounts to the same thing: me and me first.  We must see ourselves in Pilate, weakly protesting that we want to stand up for Jesus, but giving in and selling out when we perceive that the cost is too high.

            … And finally, facing all this corruption so evident within us, we must by God’s grace see ourselves in Barabbas:  the condemned criminal unexpectedly and undeservedly set free in God’s great exchange.  … Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria!