Nathan wished he were anything but here. When he had reported for duty that morning he had no idea what he was getting into. Usually he loved being a temple guard. The pay was good, the duty was light, and the prestige was awesome. The hardest thing he had to do was keep his mouth shut about what went on behind the scenes. If the people only knew! Everybody thought the priests and the members of the Sanhedrin were so holy! They were always so dignified in public, and of course when they put on their ceremonial regalia you couldn’t help but be impressed. It was as if God himself were standing in front of you! But they bickered and haggled like housewives at the market over everything from the exchange rate for purchasing kosher lamb to who was going to get next year’s contract for lamp oil! But it didn’t really have anything to do with him, guard duty mostly involved keeping curious Gentiles from straying into the restricted areas or occasionally breaking up a brawl outside the temple.
He should have known that something was brewing, though. Things had been very tense since that Galillean rabbi Yeshua had practically caused a riot out there in the Court of the Gentiles, driving the money-changers and the sellers of sacrificial animals out with a whip and turning over the tables. It had taken all day to clean up the mess; the merchants were demanding compensation and protection, and the priests had called a special meeting.
But Nathan had never expected anything like what he was seeing this morning. When he reported to his sergeant at dawn there was already a crowd waiting outside the high priest’s house, and they had to put one unit to work just keeping the spectators back. The first thing his squad did was to haul a prisoner up from the holding tank beneath the high priest’s house. Nathan hardly recognized the firebrand Yeshua; he was bruised and bloody, the night shift hadn’t treated him gently. But it was definitely the same man.
As the morning wore on Nathan got more and more uneasy. First they dragged the prisoner over to the governor’s palace. Then the sergeant ordered the temple guard to turn the prisoner over to the Romans. And Nathan would have been very happy if they’d been dismissed back to their usual posts back at the temple. But apparently Caiaphas and the others wanted to make sure the Romans took the charges seriously. So there they all still were, back at Pilate’s for the second time that morning. They’d all traipsed over to King Herod’s town house - apparently the governor wanted to palm the problem off on him, but that didn’t work although Nathan couldn’t hear exactly what happened. Whatever it was, though, it hadn’t pleased the council members at all.
And now here they were back again. The crowd had gotten bigger. It looked as though every idler and layabout in Jerusalem had shown up. Although - he looked again around the gathered onlookers - wasn’t that his wife Leah and her brother Joel? She’d get a piece of his mind when he went home that evening, that was for sure. This was no place for a respectable woman! Of course, he had remembered her saying something about going to hear the Galilean preach. What was it... the kingdom of God was coming? He hadn’t paid any attention at the time, of course, there were always crazy preachers running around the countryside prophesying something, and Leah was really religious.
Nathan’s attention snapped back to where the prisoner Yeshua had just been brought out in front of the crowd again. He stood motionless between two soldiers, and Pilate stepped forward to the edge of the balcony. “This man hasn’t violated any Roman law,” he proclaimed in a loud voice. “Let me release him to you as the beneficiary of the usual Passover amnesty.”
“Well,” thought Nathan as the crowd began to mutter, “I could have told him that wouldn’t work. They’ve smelled blood, and they won’t go home until you give it to them.” Someone shouted, “He’s a blasphemer!” And another voice yelled, “Kill the false prophet!” Other voices took up the cry and pretty soon the whole courtyard was chanting, “death to the traitor!”
Pilate conferred with one of his officials and stepped back to the edge of the platform again and raised his hand for silence. The crowd quieted down to hear what he had to say. Again in a loud voice Pilate said, “According to custom, every Passover Rome releases a condemned man out of respect for your traditions and festivals. I have another prisoner here today, a thief and murderer named Barabbas. I will release to you either Yeshua or Barabbas. Which one do you choose?”
From where Nathan stood he could see Caiaphas’ mouth form the name Barabbas, but he couldn’t hear him. The crowd was already chanting “Bar-ab-bas! Give us Bar-ab-bas!” Pilate’s hand went up again and the crowd quieted down. “Very well,” he said.. “I will honor your wishes. Barabbas will be set free immediately, while this Yeshua will be flogged and forbidden to return to Jerusalem.” “No!” came the angry shout. Nathan’s heart sank. Pilate asked, “What do you want me to do with him, then?” And one voice shouted, “Crucify him!” and pretty soon the whole mob was chanting, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
Nathan was sure he saw a smile of satisfaction on Caiaphas’ face before he replaced it with a mask of stern righteousness. But he didn’t have a chance to think about it right then, because the sergeant was rounding up the squad and sending them back to their usual posts at the temple. “Our job here is done,” he said. “The Romans will take it from here.”
Over the years Nathan thought about that dreadful morning over and over, turning over in his mind what had happened. Could he have done anything differently? Could anyone have changed the events of that day?
Eventually he understood why it had happened. Nathan had almost decided to resign from the guard when the Sanhedrin decided to keep the matter of the torn veil quiet. It was one thing to keep their own petty sins quiet, he thought, but lying about what God had done? That wasn’t just wrong, it was scary! And that business of paying the guard off to say they hadn’t been watching the tomb and the Galillean’s disciples could have stolen the body. Nathan hadn’t been on duty that night, but his best friend Yakov had been, and Yakov swore that they had never left the garden and that no one could have sneaked by them.
And then Nathan heard Peter and the others on Pentecost explaining who Jesus was and what the priests and the Romans between them had done. Nathan was one of the first to come forward to be baptized, and as soon as he felt Peter’s hands on him it was as if a lamp had been lit inside his head.
Yeshua was innocent, Barabbas was guilty. Barabbas should have died, Yeshua should have been freed. Yeshua died in Barabbas’ place. Nathan had understood that already, sort of. What he didn’t understand was that Yeshua had died in his, Nathan’s place as well. Up until that day Nathan had thought he was a pretty decent sort. But now he knew better. Now he knew what a coward he was, and - well, that didn’t mat-ter. Everybody had things they were ashamed of. And you could always find somebody who was worse than you, someone you could point to and say, well, I’m not as bad as him. But you couldn’t look at Yeshua and not know how what a lowdown, rotten sinner you were in comparison. Yeshua was sort of like a mirror, when you looked at him you could see yourself clear as a bell, all the greed and lust and small cruelties bright as day and twice lifesize. And the only thing you can do when you see yourself clear like that is fall down on your knees and weep - or try to break the mirror so you won’t have to see yourself any more.
Of course the crowd hadn’t seen themselves in Yeshua. That wasn’t why they had demanded his death. But it was something like that, Nathan thought. He had been trying to figure it out and of course part of it was just being a mob. He had seen it dozens of times. You get caught up in it, whatever the person next to you is shouting, you shout it louder. It’s a good release. Life is hard, and making a lot of noise just plain feels good. Last week as the pilgrims had been flocking into Jerusalem for the beginning of Passover had been like that. You stop the daily grind and remember what God had done in the past and shout as if the louder you shouted the more likely God would step in again.
But somehow the executions were even more satisfying than the parades. They didn’t happen often, but there was something about seeing somebody flogged and killed that got rid of anger. And people were angry, no doubt about it. They were angry at the Romans, who treated them like dirt, and they were angry at the priests and the wealthy merchants who lived high on the hog, cooperating with the authorities and not lifting a hand to make the people’s lives easier. They were angry at their wives and their children and their friends, and most of all they were angry at God. But if they got into a fight themselves they’d be hauled up before the magistrate before you could dust your hands off. Yes, executions just plain felt good. At least someone was getting punished for something.
But there was more than that going on that morning. It wasn’t just that they’d wanted someone, anyone, killed. They’d actually chosen Barabbas to be set free. Barabbas, for goodness sake! He wasn’t even some romantic hero, a fiery Zealot assassinating Romans in the name of Jewish freedom. He was just a thug.
But, thought Nathan, it was sort of like breaking the mirror so you won’t have to see yourselves in it. The people knew Yeshua didn’t deserve death, no doubt about it, they knew. But if they had asked for him to be released, why, that was the same as admitting they had been wrong, the same as admitting that they were really bloodthirsty savages, not righteous Jews defending their national and religious honor. Of course they had to choose Barabbas! Besides, that made them feel virtuous. Because Barabbas was worse than they were. Barabbas was scum. And if Barabbas could get off, why, so could they! If Barabbas could have his sins forgiven, and be set free, why - there was hope for them, too. “See?” You could almost hear them thinking. “See, we’re not so bad after all.”
What they didn’t get, thought Nathan sadly, was that they were even worse than they knew, and that the only one who could forgive them, the only one who could set them free, was the one they put to death.
