Palm Sunday

Our 3-Minute Catechesis is taking a holiday this week and next (Palm Sunday & Easter). In lieu of the catechism we're reprinting an essay which looks at the crucifixion of Christ through the eyes of Barabbas. A blessed Palm Sunday to each of you.

"Hello, my name is Yoshua. Oh, I’m sorry, some of you are Greek speakers, you would probably know me better as Jesus. No, not that Jesus. I’m Yoshua Bar-Abbas, Jesus, son of the father.

"I was born and raised here in Judea and it’s been hard to watch what’s happening to our country under Roman rule. They extort taxes from us just to pay the soldiers who are here to keep us under control. And here we are, at the Passover, and what have they done? They’ve increased the guard to “protect” us. They’ve increased the guard to protect their interests! Even Pontius Pilate has come into the city from his palace at the sea to watch over us. Our “friends,” the Romans. Hah!

"I’ve waited all my life for the words of the prophets to come true. Scripture and the prophets all point to our time, now, for the Messiah to come. But where is he? A few years ago I followed the Baptizer, John. He preached that the kingdom of God was at hand and repentance. But, now he’s dead.

"The Messiah is supposed to come and raise up a mighty army and defeat our enemies. We’ll drive out all those who would hope to put us into slavery or to death.

"But where’s the Messiah that Scripture tells us about? I don’t know, but John made me believe that it’s time. I felt that I couldn’t wait any longer for him to make his move. Maybe God wants us to take matters into our own hands. And what better time could there be than during Passover, when the city swells to four times its normal size? That’s why I did what I did. Yesterday, I sneaked up behind a centurion and took his short-sword from its scabbard. Before he could react I made a quick thrust and he lay dead at my feet.

"I called others to join me. “There’s tens of thousands of us and only a few thousand of them. We can overthrow them.” But, no one joined me and I was quickly captured. And I thought that I’d end up being a martyr, and maybe that was God’s plan for me. But even that didn’t happen.

"This morning I was yanked out of my cell, and instead of being taken to Golgotha, I was brought before Pilate, himself. And to my surprise, I wasn’t the only Jesus there.

"The Nazarean, the prophet was there and Pilate was asking the crowd which one of us they wanted released; the son of the father, or the king of the Jews. What chance did I have of being picked against the prophet? Surely the crowd would rather have him freed. But from the back of the crowd came a few voices that shouted, “Bar Abbas, and they got louder, “BAR ABBAS” and more joined in, “BAR ABBAS” until it seemed that everyone was calling my name.

"The next thing I know, I’m being thrown into the street in front of the Praetorium. I started to move away, not waiting for someone to change their mind, thinking myself lucky. But, I couldn’t make myself leave.

"Soon, they brought out the Nazarean, dragging the beam that he was to be crucified on. They had beaten him, and he was bloody and weak. It was all he could do to drag the great beam of wood.

"I still couldn’t leave. I was compelled to follow, puzzled by the humility of this just man. I watched as he slowly made his way out of the city gate near the palace to the place of the skull. They stripped him of his clothes and nailed him to the beam. Then they raised the beam, and I saw his anguish as his weight pulled at the nails. It was only after some people came to take his body away that I stopped to consider all that had happened.

"I can’t believe what they’ve done! This man was innocent! I was guilty, not him! How could they have crucified him and let me live? I’m the criminal. He died for my sins. He died so that I might live!"



© 1998 Mark Bussemeier