Article Tools
- Text Size
- Add a comment (2)
- Print this article
- Email this article
The Son of God stood bound, bearing too, the bonds of our sin and guilt.
Life itself stood accused, sentenced, and condemned to death. What irony that they thought to destroy the one who is the source of life,one they knew had raised men from the dead?
Jesus stood before the judgment seat. He who has the right to judge us all was judged himself by his own creatures— to the shame of man, and yet for our salvation.
How the angels must have trembled in the courts of heaven as they looked upon this earthly court!
Sentenced to death—by whom? Who wielded this power over God’s Son?
Pilate: lacking integrity and character, ruled by fear and vanity, gaming with political necessity to prevent a riot and preserve his reputation before the eyes of Rome.
Caiaphas and the Jewish leaders: safeguarding ritual and the status quo, eaten by envy, hardened in unbelief and self-righteousness, choosing expediency to save their nation.
Me, you, all mankind: steeped in Adam’s sin.
Silently he stood, majestic and serene, calm and composed amid the jeering tumult and accusations roiling around him.
He had passed through the anguish of Gethsemane, and was being held still and fast in his Father’s will. All that remained was to drink the cup to the dregs. (Yet what human terror must have taunted his resolve and made a knot in his stomach recoiling from the pain and horror to come.)
He was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.
Defenseless, ignoring the charges brought against him, he spoke only to confirm that his kingship was not of this world.
How quick we are to defend ourselves against the smallest wrong or imagined slight, to protect ourselves against hurt or injury.
I have set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near. Who will contend with me? Let us stand up together. Who is my adversary? Let him come near to me. Behold, the Lord God helps me; who will declare me guilty?
The word was spoken, the judgment passed upon the Son of God: condemned to death upon a cross. There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
Matthew 26:57-68; 27:1-2, 11-31
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ trial before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin, the Jewish council, record multiple false charges and the conflicting testimony that witnesses brought against him. Yet, ultimately, the crucial issue around which the trial revolved was whether this itinerant rabbi from Galilee was the long-awaited “anointed one”: “Tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God” (Matthew 26:63; see Mark 14:61 and Luke 22:67).
Jesus had already provided abundant evidence of his identity through his words and deeds, his public proclamations and miracles. Yet the Sanhedrin refused to acknowledge the truth of this evidence and confess that Jesus is the Christ. And so the scene unfolded as Jesus broke his silence and replied to the assembly: “You have said so. But I tell you, hereafter you will see the Son of man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming on the clouds of heaven” (Matthew 26:64). With this, the chief priests and scribes accused Jesus of blasphemy and sought to put him to death (26:65-66; Mark 14:63-64). However, under Roman jurisdiction the Sanhedrin had no authority to impose capital punishment, so they referred the case to the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate (see John 18:31).
Pontius Pilate was appointed governor of Judea, Idumea, and Samaria in a.d. 26. The given name “Pilate”—from the Latin pilatus—means a “pikeman” or one armed with a pilum or javelin; “Pontius” was the surname, a family name of Roman origin. Apparently Pilate was an able administrator since he remained in office ten years, while the region had gone through a total four governors in the previous twenty years. But he was also a harsh and insensitive ruler, and was unpopular with the Jewish people. When Pilate had first marched into Jerusalem as governor, he provoked a riot by hanging a portrait of the emperor on the fortress wall across from the temple. Since Jews considered images idolatrous, they were outraged and demonstrated violently, even baring their necks to suggest that they would rather die by a sword stroke than have such an abomination overlook the temple. To avoid a massacre and Rome’s disfavor, the humiliated governor backed down and removed the portrait.
As the Roman governor of the region, Pilate possessed the jus gladii (the right of the sword), that is, the authority to order an execution. Although the Jewish religious leaders despised Pilate, they had no other option than to submit the case against Jesus to him if they wanted Jesus to be sentenced to death. The Sanhedrin had condemned Jesus on the charge of blasphemy, but this religious accusation would mean nothing to a pagan Roman—Pilate would only be concerned with the breaking of Roman law, sedition, or treason against the empire. Hence Jesus’ accusers implied that Jesus had organized a political rebellion: “We found this man perverting our nation, and forbidding us to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that he himself is Christ a king” (Luke 23:2).
Pilate balked at being used as a tool of the Jews, who he disdained; he recognized that the chief priests were acting out of envy (Matthew 27:18) and did not readily succumb to their demands. Instead, he actively sought to thwart their desire to have Jesus executed. Perhaps Pilate also feared harming Jesus because his wife—Claudia Procula, granddaughter of the emperor Augustus—had warned him, “Have nothing to do with that righteous man, for I have suffered much over him today in a dream” (27:19).
Pilate was personally impressed with the enigmatic man he found standing so calmly without defense before him. When he asked if Jesus was aware of the charges against him, Jesus remained silent, “so that the governor wondered greatly” (Matthew 27:13-14). So Pilate put the crucial question to him outright: “Are you the King of the Jews?” (27:11; John 18:33). Jesus’ reply was noncommittal, since the governor was thinking in purely political terms whereas Jesus’ reign and kingship were spiritual, not material (see John 18:36). Jesus answered Pilate in an idiomatic Jewish way: “You have said so” (Matthew 27:11; Luke 23:3; see also John 18:37), meaning, “The statement is yours” or “It is as you say.” Jesus answer also implied that Pilate was speaking the truth but did not know what “King of the Jews” meant. Thus, Jesus affirmed that he was a king, but in such a way that he rejected the political inferences of the phrase.
Pilate repeatedly declared Jesus innocent of any crime and tried every means he could think of to avoid condemning him—even having Jesus scourged in an attempt to appease the Jewish leaders and win the crowds’ sympathy. Nonetheless, the chief priests and elders were unyielding. Ultimately, fear of damaging his career got the better of Pilate. Although he knew Jesus had done nothing deserving the death sentence, he lacked the courage and integrity to release him. He gave in, against his conscience, when the Jews reminded him that anyone who made himself a king was Caesar’s rival. Moreover, Pilate knew that Rome would reprimand or remove him if there were riots again over a religious controversy. So, finally, rather than risk his position for an innocent man, he acquiesced to the chief priests’ demands in order to preserve crowd control and his career (John 19:12-16).
As he handed Jesus over to be crucified, Pilate washed his hands to absolve himself of responsibility (Matthew 27:24). With this symbolic gesture, he tried to soothe his troubled conscience and evade personal accountability for his decision. Ultimately, every man and woman must, like Pilate, decide for themselves what to make of Jesus the Messiah. Each of us in a sense passes judgment on Jesus as we accept or reject him as our Lord. And it is this decision that determines the final judgment on ourselves.
The title “King of the Jews” had been suggested by the Sanhedrin when they brought Jesus before Pilate, because it had obvious political overtones. It was also used mockingly by the soldiers when they abused Jesus (Matthew 29:28). But at Jesus’ birth, the gentile wise men used the title to honor the child whom the Jews failed to recognize (2:2). Now Pilate, another gentile, saw more deeply than the Jewish elders and ordered the title to be placed as the inscription on Jesus’ cross (John 19:19). The crucifixion was Jesus’ enthronement as King. The inscription that hung above him on the cross was written in Hebrew, the language of religion; in Latin, the language of the empire; and in Greek, the language of culture—thus serving as a universal proclamation testifying to the truth of who Jesus is. As St. Ambrose explained in his Exposition of the Gospel of Luke,
The superscription is written and placed above, not below the cross, because the government is upon his shoulders [Isaiah 9:6]. What is this government if not his eternal power and Godhead? … The superscription is fittingly above the cross, because although the Lord Jesus was on the cross, he shines above the cross with the majesty of a king.
Jesus’ death begins to make sense only when we recognize the great love that the Father has for us—so great a longing in the Father’s heart for us to be restored to full friendship with him that he would ask his Son to go to such great lengths on our behalf. The words of the Exsultet, the proclamation sung at the Easter vigil, marvel at God’s motive: “Father, how wonderful your care for us! How boundless your merciful love! To ransom a slave you gave away your Son.”
We have come full circle now from the time when Adam and Eve, by partaking of the fruit of the forbidden tree, brought sin and death into the world. Jesus Christ, the new Adam, restored our relationship with the Father through the tree of the cross. Paradoxically, it is the death of the Son of God on this tree that secured new life for us:
How precious the gift of the cross, how splendid to contemplate! In the cross there is no mingling of good and evil, as in the tree of paradise: it is wholly beautiful to behold and good to taste. The fruit of this tree is not death but life, not darkness but light. This tree does not cast us out of paradise, but opens the way for our return… . This was the tree upon which the Lord, like a brave warrior wounded in hands, feet and side, healed the wounds of sin that the evil serpent had inflicted on our nature… . What an astonishing transformation! That death should become life, that decay should become immortality, that shame should become glory! (St. Theodore the Studite, Oratio in adorationem crucis)
An excerpt from God’s Promises Fullfilled.
This is an excellent commentary on the Passion of Christ. Very good job!
May We show our Love and Gratitude for YOUR Eternal gift of Salvation to US by accepting YOU as our King and Redeemer and Lord every day of our lives; Knowing this Daily acceptance of YOu in our Soul and Heart and Mind will bring us YOUR Joy and Peace and Heavenily Kingdom.
This indeed is GOOD FRIDAY for all Mankind!