Trial, Part II
Mark 15:1-15
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Last year, the two most famous members of the rock and roll band The Rolling Stones, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, turned 80-years-old. To look at them now, performing hit songs that have embedded themselves into popular culture, you might not guess just how controversial they were in their 20’s. At a time when this emerging genre of music was often assailed as something straight from hell, the Stones leaned into their tarnished image with what just may be one of the best rock songs of its era, Sympathy for the Devil. Written in the first person, the singer asks to introduce himself as a man of wealth and taste, someone who was there when Jesus Christ had his moment of doubt and pain, who made sure Pilate washed his hands and sealed his fate. Pleased to meet you/ I hope you guessed my name. Sadly, like most metaphors this one was misunderstood as actual sympathy for the spiritual figure we call the devil, rather than what it was, a clever device for putting a mirror up to the ever-present violence of human history that often goes disguised by so-called wealth and taste. It’s also a caution that having sympathy for the devil, that is making excuses for the evil all around us and within us is the surest way to lose our souls.
Take Pilate for instance. There are those who read this account and express sympathy for the Roman Governor. He doesn’t think Jesus is guilty, they’ll contend. See, he even looks for a way out by offering to release him. So, for the sake of argument, let’s just step back for a second and review the situation. First, let’s acknowledge that Mark makes no effort to explain who Pilate is, or introduce his position. Meaning, Pilate is known to the group hearing this story at least 20 or 30 years after the fact by a single name. He is notorious for his brutality, a fact corroborated by non-religious histories of the time. Second, Jerusalem is not where the Roman authority was headquartered in first century Judea. That would be Caesarea Maritima, a coastal port some 70 miles away up the coast of the Mediterranean. When the people you are occupying have a festival to celebrate their liberation from slavery, it’s a good idea to have a show of force on hand to dissuade any would-be revolutionaries. To suggest that Pilate is just some poor bureaucrat at the mercy of religious leadership and a restless crowd is disingenuous. Make no mistake, Pilate is not the victim of this story. That’s just the Devil, looking for sympathy.
But then that’s often how evil operates. A cast mate of mine in Into the Woods plays the role of the Wolf who devours Little Red Riding hood and her grandmother before meeting his untimely end. Some would contend that the wolf is just being a wolf, that it’s in his nature to be a predator. Backstage we got to talking about the different villains that we’ve played. We both agreed that the best villains, or at least the ones that make for the truest storytelling, never see themselves as villains. They sincerely believe that they are acting for the best. Even in our little musical, there’s a moment in the second act when one of the characters begins to argue with a giant. The other characters panic as she provokes the giant’s anger until she is struck on the head and ultimately dies. Spoiler alert. The assailant’s explanation, “I was just thinking of the common good. That’s my job.”
So, it could be that Pilate honestly thinks that he is acting in the common good. Certainly, that is how Rome would justify its widespread use of public crucifixion to keep the peace. Better to nip potential uprisings in the bud by sending a message to would-be rebels, or would be kings. That is ultimately the question here? “Are you the King of the Jews,” Pilate asks. It’s not an innocent question or a curious inquiry. For Rome there can be only one King, one person to whom the people bow and bend the knee, and that person is Caesar. It doesn’t really matter if Jesus himself claims to be some kind of king, or not. Any claim to authority, regardless of who makes it, that might compete with the Caesar, that might compete with Rome, that might compete with the power and authority of the state must be crushed. The powers and politicians of this world may trot religion on the stage in the moment of need, to provide cover or window-dressing for their agenda. But make no mistake, the second that faith becomes inconvenient, or asks uncomfortable questions about the distribution of wealth or the priority of peace, this is what happens. One way or another, earthly power will have its way, and will do so in service to what it deems to be the common good, asking for sympathy along the way.
Here at the end of our five week journey through the events leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion we see one more hand off. At the beginning of our reading we hear how Jesus is handed over to Pilate by the chief priests. At the end of our reading he is handed over to be crucified. But the verb used here appears at least 10 times between Judas’ initial agreement to betray Jesus and when he is handed over for crucifixion. In some way the passion narrative is series of such betrayals, as series of people each of whom play their part in handing him over to the next. It is the specter that hangs over their last meal as Jesus announces that his betrayal is imminent, as is his abandonment. It is the grief that hangs heavy in the garden when his closest friends can’t even stay awake. It is the sting of Judas’ kiss, and the desolation when all of them flee abandoning him to the temple guard. It is the string of false witnesses, and the leaders of his own faith who have already made up their minds and hand him over to spitting and ridicule. It is his closest friend who denies ever knowing him. And it is being handed over to the frenzied mob eager to shed someone else’s blood if it saves their own.
Pilate gives the crowd a choice- Jesus, a man of peace, who is said to be king, the messiah and son of the blessed one, or a terrorist, a man of actual violent resistance toward Rome whose name quite literally translates to “Son of the Father.” Which one should go free and which one condemned? If we read this story and shake our head at what a shame it all is, I’m afraid we’re not being honest. Because if history demonstrates anything, it is that we regularly and happily set loose the forces of violence and murder into this world under the guise of law and order while sending innocent people to their deaths. If we read this story and conclude that Judas is to blame, or the disciples who fled, or the guards who arrested him, or the religious leaders who condemned him, or the people who spat and mocked, or Peter who denied him, or Pilate who thought he could wash his hands of the guilt. If we read this story and think that from the safety of two thousand years we are exonerated from what unfolds, we have missed the point of the story. If we do that we are simply trying to hand back what has been handed over to us, which is a mirror by which we can see clearly humanity’s violent rejection of God and God’s unrelenting love for us, nevertheless. That is the nature of our game.
Only when we learn to tell the truth about it; the whole truth and nothing but the truth, can we be set free by this story’s conclusion. That is why we have spent the painful past five Sundays making our way through it. Not so we can wallow in self-pity as though we were the real victims of the whole thing, but with clear eyes to see how desperately we need God to write the ending, because our endings are fraught with this kind of pain, violence, and death. And none of our illusions about the power of the state, or religion, or friendship, or the people will stop God from getting what God wants. Just you wait, and see.