HOLY WEEK: Rome

While this will probably be a somewhat anticlimactic post, I have always found this conversation to be one worth wrestling with. It seems that in our efforts to correct some past antisemitic abuses, we have at times overcorrected and made statements that don’t quite jive with the historical setting.

We’ve already addressed the political situation that led to the showdown that fateful week of Passover. In this annual time of political tension, Rome has been flexing its muscles in a way that makes it quite clear: don’t mess with Rome. The man we call Pontius Pilate has been hired for the job of Roman stalwart — a bulldog of a leader who will establish political stability at all costs.

Make no mistake, Jesus has riled up some people throughout this Holy Week. He may have even drawn some attention from Rome with his triumphal entry stunt and the whole group of people waving palm branches. I’m sure the guards in the Antonio Fortress (a Roman guard post overlooking the temple courts — and a glaring statement about the watchful eye of Rome over the Jewish people and their worship) went on alert as Jesus starting flipping over tables on the Temple Mount.

But Jesus wasn’t picking a fight with Rome.

Of course, on one level, that last statement isn’t true. Jesus’s entire ministry has been a statement about the lie of Empire and the promise of a new and better Kingdom. As scholars like Dominic Crossan have pointed out, these are fighting words. You don’t claim to have a Kingdom that stands in opposition to Rome — not without being prepared to pay the consequences.

But Jesus’s teachings have appeared to the world of Rome completely backwards and counterintuitive. Some have used the words “mystic” in connection to the kind of rabbi Jesus was. Jesus wasn’t marching on Rome or leading a revolt with swords or clubs. Jesus wasn’t fighting a worldly war over a worldly kingdom in a worldly way. In fact, it is when Pilate asks Jesus if he is a king, Jesus responds by saying, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight.”

But they aren’t here to wage war on Rome as a political empire.

They ARE here to wage war on Empire itself.

And Empire is showing up in their own house, with their own leadership. Forget about Rome. Jesus marches into the Temple to do some housecleaning of his own.

I’m sure it’s possible that Jesus had Rome’s attention.

But was Rome out to get Jesus?

What kind of a threat is this peasant rabbi who’s been running around telling people to forgive their enemies?

This is most clear in the gospel account of John as we watch Pilate try again and again to find something to accuse Jesus of — and he fails. He then tries again and again to release Jesus, stating he found no fault in him.

Rome tried to laugh this peasant rabbi off. A threat? No way.

But this wasn’t about military power or the threat of a heavenly kingdom. This was about a political threat to the stability of Rome in this region, and the ability of Pilate to keep the region secure. The trial before Pilate isn’t about Jesus; it is the interaction between Pilate and the corrupt religious leaders who saw an imminent threat to their system of power and luxury.

This was a religious mafia making it quite clear: “Pilate, if you don’t execute this man as a terrorist — publicly — we will make this very difficult on you. We will turn this region on its head and let Caesar know who his real friends are.” Listen to what they say in the Text:

From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jewish leaders kept shouting, “If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.”

When Pilate heard this, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judge’s seat at a place known as the Stone Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha). It was the day of Preparation of the Passover; it was about noon.

“Here is your king,” Pilate said to the Jews.

But they shouted, “Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!”

“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate asked.

“We have no king but Caesar,” the chief priests answered.

Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified.

This is about politics. This is about corrupted religious power.

Now, to reiterate, this is not an effort to say “the Jews killed Jesus.” Not at all. As we’ve mentioned multiple times before, the Jews responded quite favorably to the teachings and ministry of Jesus. It is clear from the Text above that this coup is being led by the chief priests — not the Jews, not even the priesthood or the Sadducean party, but the chief families in charge of the rule of Ananus.

And so Pilate washes his hands of the situation and caves to the political pressure, a move that does little to let him off the hook.

Putting things in their appropriate place has always been important for me. Maybe it’s because I want to know how to properly understand the situation that led to Jesus’s execution. Maybe it’s because I want to understand the people who called for it and why. Maybe it’s because I want to understand the dangers of religious power and corruption.

Maybe it’s because I have a deep love for the Eastern Church tradition that claims Pilate (who we know nothing about from history after this point) escaped from his service to Rome and fled to Egypt, where he became a follower of Jesus and the leader of the church there.

Call me a sucker for happy endings and a stickler for hope.

But speaking of great endings, it’s about time we talk about this empty tomb thing…

HOLY WEEK: Peter's Denial

We left the last post hanging on the question of whether or not Judas was the only betrayer. I ask that question because I think the story demands we see the tension of another betrayer.

After running from the Sanhedrin’s arrest on the Mount of Olives, John uses his connections with someone, presumably a servant in the High Priest’s household, to get them onto the private grounds of Jesus’s trial. As we’ve mentioned before, it should be noted that Jesus is not standing a public trial in front of the formal Sanhedrin, but is instead being tried informally (and unjustly) by the mafia-style Sanhedrin, meeting at the High Priest’s house. This is clear from the Text.

We are told that Peter is in the courtyard, hanging out with those who are warming themselves by the fire while all the commotion is happening. It’s impressive to consider that John and Peter sneak onto the grounds of this house once we realize they are standing in the home of the “godfather” figure of the corrupt priesthood. As Peter tries to keep a low profile (we have no idea what happens to John), Jesus is persecuted and tried throughout the evening.

As Peter is standing near the fire, he is confronted more than once about his identity; according to one gospel account, he even tries to leave the group and relocate and is still confronted about who he is. Eventually, exactly as Jesus predicted, Peter denies his association with the rabbi on trial inside, and we are told he meets the gaze of Jesus himself as the rooster crows. In an eerie moment of the story, Peter rushes out of the courtyard to his home and proceeds to weep bitterly for what he has done.

Not many of us catch the gravity of what Peter has just done. For a talmid to publicly disassociate with the rabbi is unheard of in rabbinical discipleship — the truest form of a slap to his teacher’s face. In fact, on a lot of levels, if you read this story in context, it is tempting to think Peter’s denial is a much deeper betrayal than that of Judas. Judas made his error while being misguided in his understanding of Jesus’s mission, while Peter refuses to associate with the man at all.

One can see the significance of this moment by watching Jesus’s interaction with Peter in the gospel of John. After the crucifixion, Peter and some of the disciples have gone home and started working. Peter understands that his time as a disciple is done; he has forsaken the rabbi, and this is a cardinal offense.

This is also how the others would have seen it. It is interesting to realize that without the account of John’s gospel, we would know very little about the life of Peter (outside of the book of Acts). All three synoptic gospels allow Peter to be characterized by his worst moment, without ever mentioning his name again. It is only Peter’s best friend, John, who gives us insight into the personal and intimate reinstatement of Peter as a disciple — and as the ring-leader of the the havurah.

Consider this passage from the ending of the gospel of Mark:

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’ ”

Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

Go tell the disciples… and Peter.

If the angel doesn’t specify Peter, the women will leave him out, because Peter isn’t a disciple anymore.

Peter has blown it. He made the ultimate mistake.

You don’t come back from denying your rabbi.

And yet, the authors of the gospels are adamant throughout that Peter is not the betrayer — Judas is. I think one of the reasons the gospel writers keep pointing this out is because a typical first-century reader (especially a Jewish reader) is not going to identify Judas as the betrayer, but Peter.

So what is it about Peter and Judas that makes Judas “the one who betrayed Jesus”?

I would suggest it is the way their story ends. They both make huge mistakes. One of them misjudges who their teacher is and what he’s up to in the world. The other disassociates and denies even the slightest connection to their rabbi. Both are wrong. 

But one chooses to let his story end there. And one chooses to let himself be reinstated.

I have NO desire for this to become a teaching about suicide. I am trying to speak to the larger, poetic nuances of the story itself. I am trying to speak to the meta-narrative arc of your story and mine — how it fits within God’s bigger story. I have far too many close friends who struggle with clinical depression and battle against suicide. Throwing rocks at those who struggle with such things would be a betrayal of the very story we are reading. And projecting anything other than that onto my words would be inaccurate. I am not making grandiose statements about the choice of suicide or their eternal destination. Not even in the slightest.

But this is a story about hope.

The only true betrayal of Jesus and what he stood for would be to believe there is no tomorrow — to believe there is no coming back from this.

Judas decides his mistakes cannot be overcome. Judas decides his story will end here. Judas decides there is no coming back.

Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus.

But Jesus’s entire ministry has been and always will be about the God of Second Chances. And the God of Third Chances. And the God of Endless Grace and Bottomless Hope.

Peter is willing to walk on a beach with Jesus and face his greatest fears. Peter is willing to stare down his greatest insecurities. Peter is willing to trust that when his rabbi says he’s still worth saving and still fit to feed his sheep — he means it.

And Peter is willing to trust Jesus to give him a new tomorrow.

This story has always been a story about new tomorrows. This story has always been about allowing God to write incredible endings. This story has always been an invitation to trust that God says you have value and acceptance and worth.

This story has always been a reminder that you aren’t defined by your biggest mistakes, your deepest insecurities, or your worst fears.

Your rabbi says that a new tomorrow is accessible for you today. Will you trust him?

HOLY WEEK: The Plot to Kill Jesus

The conversation about “who killed Jesus” is a very electric topic that you don’t dive into hastily. With so much antisemitism that swirls under the surface, handling this question can be a ticking time bomb. Nevertheless, it is interesting to make some very basic observations about what gets Jesus in so much trouble.

Without a doubt, I will not let Rome off the hook in this story, but I want to deal with Rome and Pilate in a later post, so I won’t talk about them here. There is no question that Rome plays a part in the crucifixion of Jesus. They have to: The Jewish leadership does not have the judicial authority to execute prisoners by crucifixion. So, at the very least, Rome authorizes the death of Jesus.

But what gets Jesus in trouble is something far deeper than the Roman authorities. This would be the perfect place to go back and review our lesson that explained the context of the Sadducees and the chief priests.

There are a few things that should be stated right up front:

“The Jews” didn’t kill Jesus. This has been one of the most destructive misinterpretations of history the world has ever seen. Millions of Jews have been slaughtered in the name of this false idea. All throughout the gospels, it is clear the Jewish people loved, adored, and even revered Jesus. The plot to kill Jesus hinges completely upon executing Jesus outside the eye of the Jewish public so they won’t rebel against the Jewish leaders. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the phrase, “Jesus entered Jerusalem to cheers from the crowd only to be crucified by them a week later.” To be very clear, it was not the same crowd. Jesus is arrested, tried, and beaten by a corrupt body of ruling priests and their “mafia-style justice.”

Even though the Pharisees helped arrange this plot (at least a few of them did), the Pharisees were not the ones who led the charge in this execution. This is completely unappreciated in our teachings. The Pharisees and the Sadducees despised each other! That they would work together to conspire against Jesus is incredible culturally. It makes me think the Pharisees involved were as corrupt as the chief priests. One must keep in mind that the Pharisees tried to save Jesus’s life more than once earlier on in his ministry.

It is the chief priests who conspire against Jesus and arrange his execution. It’s worth noticing that Jesus spends three years confronting the Pharisees within every corner of their theology and survives to tell the tale, and even continues to engage them in their methods up until his death. Compare that to the fact Jesus spends less than one week confronting the corrupt rule of the chief priests and he gets himself killed. This is why Jesus knows he is going to die in Jerusalem. It’s not because he has his “God goggles” on, looking into the future; it’s because he knows he is headed into Jerusalem to confront the injustice of the religious mafia — and nobody survives to tell that tale.

Once we have an understanding of the corruption that lied behind the execution of Jesus, it helps us appreciate the story on so many levels.

Why Jesus is tried by the “Sanhedrin”? Josephus told us there were two groups of Sanhedrin: there was the formal ruling body made up of Sadducees and Pharisees, and there was the the informal back-door Sanhedrin who met in the home of the chief priest. They made decisions that were later “ratified” in the formal body. That’s how this corruption operated. Where was Jesus tried? In the home of the chief priest. This is not the formal Sanhedrin, but the informal one.

This helps us see why the trial of Jesus is so corrupt, breaking over fifteen commandments held by Jewish teaching about how to conduct an investigation and hold a trial appropriately. They break all of these rules because they don’t care. They are the chief priests.

This will help us understand the political sway that this group will hold over Pilate later. 

This will help us understand many things. My recommendation would be to go back and read the story again, realizing that the “chief priests” are corrupt families running a completely corrupt Temple system.

But now we need to discuss the betrayer who assists in bringing this plan to action.