Sermon: An Ordinary Friday

Sermon for Good Friday

It's such an ordinary way of assessing a situation and making a decision. The sin of Caiaphas. He advises the authorities that it is better to have one person die than to have the Roman legions coming down on them. Makes sense. If someone is claiming to be king in place of Caesar or proclaiming a Kingdom of God in the place of the Pax Romana, Rome will not look lightly upon that one. He might be an innocent soul, but he's stepped on the wrong toes.

Such was the moral calculus of the Caiaphas the High Priest. The High Priest has a hard job. He has to oversee the interests of the Temple and its complicated business, and he has to keep Rome happy. This was just one of those necessary compromise decisions that people in authority have to make.


The soldiers were just doing their jobs, following orders. When the chain of command says rough up the prisoner, that's what soldiers do. When there is an opportunity for a little diversion you take it: a bit of wagering for a nice tunic. All in a day's work.


Pilate had been assigned to this troubled corner of the empire. The only good thing about the job is the possibility that it could be a stepping stone to something attractive, maybe back in Rome. Keep the place quiet. Maintain order. Don't let any of this Jewish fanaticism raise enough noise to be heard in Rome. Now the local authorities that he collaborates with bring him a problem. It doesn't seem like a big problem. But it wouldn't do for some back-stabbing gossip to whisper to the emperor that Pilate let a would-be rival go. Take care of little problems before they become big ones. Maybe sometimes it's a bit heavy-handed, but better safe than sorry. Who is this guy anyway? From Galilee. Never heard of him. So what?


It was cold. Dark. Scary. Peter couldn't tell what was happening. Somebody says something to somebody and he's inside the gate. Nothing but police and slaves around. He's alone, locked inside with the others. "You're not one of this man's disciples, are you?" "I am not." He was just protecting himself.


It's the kind of stuff that happens all the time. So ordinary. So instinctual. Mostly reactive self-protection. We all do it. Everybody does.

Who was the guilty?
Who brought this upon thee?
Alas, my treason,
Jesus hath undone thee.
'Twas I, Lord Jesus,
I it was denied thee:
I crucified thee.