The trial and conviction of Jesus Christ is a curious thing. Like all legal matters, it is has some gray areas, some issues that are subject to interpretation.
The trial itself begins with a jurisdictional issue. Has Jesus broken Roman law? Or has he broken Jewish law? Does Jesus belong in a Roman court of law, or should he be before a Jewish court? Just whose problem is Jesus? And regardless of who has jurisdiction, who’s going to carry out the sentence whatever it may be?
Then there are the political questions that arise. Is Jesus the King of the Jews? If he is claiming to be so, then there is a big political dimension to his crimes – because the King of the Jews is whomever the Romans award that at-this-point-in-history somewhat tarnished title to. And anyone claiming to be a king has set himself against the emperor, and Pilate’s job is to protect the interests of that emperor. Treason, after all, is a capital crime.
Or is Jesus claiming to be the true King of Israel, the Messiah, the one descended from the Davidic dynasty? If so, then now we have a religious/prophetic problem on our hands. Religious claims run the risk of blasphemy, and blasphemy too is a capital crime.
In a trial as important as this one, you might hope that whoever has been appointed to sit in judgment over you would have a firm grasp of the concept of truth, but it is clear that Pilate does not. We see John’s sense of irony at work when the man trying Jesus has to ask the question “What is Truth?” For the one that has been sent to testify to the truth is standing right before him.
But what has Jesus done exactly? What is his crime? What is he being convicted of?
He has healed the sick and the lame and the blind. He has fed the multitude that would have surely gone hungry otherwise. He has welcomed the outcast, those of dubious ethnicity (like the Samaritan woman), and those whose sexual morality was at odds with the culture at large -- tax collectors, sinners, the sick and suffering have all been welcomed by Jesus, and he has called them his own, his sheep. He has raised the dead. He has challenged those with inflexible belief systems, those who would claim the right to judge others, a right that belongs to God alone. He has challenged those imperial powers that oppress the people. He has taught about justice and mercy and forgiveness. He has washed the feet of his disciples and in so doing has modeled how the greatest among us must be a servant to all.
This day is a troublesome one for us Christians. We grapple with the question of why Christ had to die. Did he die for us, for our sins? Well, I prefer to think of Christ’s death in more participatory terms. I like to think that Christ died not for us so much as with us. And that means for us, as it meant for the Apostle Paul, that we have been crucified with Christ, and it is now Christ who lives is us, and the lives we live should be lives of faith lived in the Son of God. (Gal 2:19-20).
And that begs the question, if Christ is to live in us, and we in him, then could we stand trial with him? Could we be convicted of the same crimes? As we journey through these three days toward the hope that awaits us on Easter morn, ask yourself these questions:
Could they convict me of trying to heal the sick? Would I be found guilty of feeding the hungry? Could they convict me of welcoming the outcast, those whom none want, those without homes and without countries? Would I be found guilty of challenging those who misuse their religious standing or their political authority? Could they accuse me of following Christ’s teachings, of acting with justice and mercy and forgiveness? Could they swear in court that I was guilty of seeking to serve Christ by serving others? Would they accuse me of showing forth the love of God, the same love of God that was shown to me from the cross?
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