April 6: Power of Authority?
♫ Music:
Day 37 - Thursday, April 6
Jesus is Judged by Pilate
Scripture: Matthew 27:11-26
Now Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You have said so.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he gave no answer. Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many things they testify against you?” But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed. Now at the feast the governor was accustomed to release for the crowd any one prisoner whom they wanted. And they had then a notorious prisoner called Barabbas. So when they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?” For he knew that it was out of envy that they had delivered him up. Besides, while he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that righteous man, for I have suffered much because of him today in a dream.” Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and destroy Jesus. The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” They all said, “Let him be crucified!” And he said, “Why? What evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!” So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man's blood; see to it yourselves.” And all the people answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” Then he released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him to be crucified.
Poetry:
"Ecce Homo"
by Andrew Hudgins
Christ bends, protects his groin.
Thorns gouge
his forehead, and his legs
are stippled with dried blood.
The part of us
that’s Pilate says, Behold the man.
We glare at that bound, lashed,
and bloody part of us that’s Christ.
We laugh, we howl, we shout.
Give us Barabbas,
not knowing who Barabbas is, not caring.
A thief? We’ll take him anyway. A drunk?
A murderer? Who cares? It’s better him
than this pale ravaged thing, this god. Bosch knows.
His humans waver, laugh, then change to demons
as if they’re seized by epilepsy. It spreads
from eye to eye, from laugh to laugh until,
incited by the ease of going mad,
they go. How easy evil is! Dark voices sing,
You can be evil or you can be good,
but good is dull, my darling, good is dull.
And we’re convinced: How lovely evil is!
How lovely hell must be! Give us Barabbas!
Lord Pilate clears his throat and tries again:
I find no fault in this just man.
It’s more than we can bear. In gothic script
our answer floats above our upturned eyes.
O crucify, we sing. O crucify him!
POWER OR AUTHORITY?
In our understandings about power and governance, there is a perplexing and game-changing moment in human history (and cosmic history, if you are a believer). It is the confrontation between human power and divine authority. In the gospel accounts of the days leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion, we read of the stunning manner in which Jesus stood before Pontius Pilate (fifth Roman Prefect in Jerusalem, ca. AD 26-36). Jesus had already been “tried” in the court of the Sanhedrin (official Jewish Temple government) and had been found guilty of blasphemy— the most egregious form of treachery and treason in Judaic law. Though the High Priest and other officials of the Temple had abused and accused him, Jesus did not retaliate or attempt to explain himself. As the prophet Isaiah predicted of the Messiah:
“He was oppressed and He was afflicted, Yet He did not open His mouth; Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.” (Isaiah 53:7)
After this the Temple officials turned Jesus over to the secular authorities in order to insure that he would be punished to the full extent of Roman law. It seems they didn’t anticipate Pilate’s response—which was to say in effect, “It’s your problem. He hasn’t broken any of our laws.” But things got even more complicated. Pilate, whose wife was warned in a dream that Christ was a man of divine stature, became queasy about Jesus and the possibility of social unrest connected to the Sanhedrin’s judgment (not to mention his wife’s anxiety: “Have nothing to do with that righteous man!”). When Jesus was brought before Pilate, he interrogated him and
declared he found no basis for guilt. During part of their encounter, Pilate said to him,
“You do not speak to me? Do You not know that I have authority to release You, and I have authority to crucify You?” Jesus answered, “You would have no authority over Me, unless it had been given you from above...” (John 9: 10, 11)
Authority. Jesus is very clear here: authority is granted “from above” and is not the result of human agency or political power-plays. The only authority Pilate really possessed was given him by God in order that the Scriptures might be fulfilled. The Messiah had to suffer and die—and thereby upset all our notions about power, kingship, status, etc. When God came among us he sojourned as a person of low status from a place of no status––the son of a laborer, not the scion of a human princedom. Moreover, when he was tried before Pilate––mocked and scourged and spit upon and crowned with thorns––Jesus displayed the ultimate dignity of his true status. Silent before the “shearers”, Jesus revealed what true authority looks like. He was undefeated even as he was led to an ignominious execution on Golgotha—undefeated because he was certain of his vocation, his mission to carry out the will of the Father he loved.
In Fra Angelico’s cycle of frescoes at Monastery San Marco in Florence, Italy, the painter served his fellow monks by decorating every room—each of the dormitories, the refectory, and the main chapter house where daily meetings were held. In one of the individual dormitories the painting (reproduced here) of Christ’s Passion is displayed. In this startling image all of the tortures and humiliations Jesus suffered before Herod and Pilate are compressed and revealed for our contemplation. It is as though time has stopped and we see with deep poignancy how Christ paid for our sins...and we are implicated in the mocking, the spitting, the slapping, the beatings, and the crowning with thorns. In the foreground are two figures––Jesus’ mother Mary and Saint Dominic, founder of the monastic order to which Fra Angelico belonged. Both are in prayer or
contemplation, and Dominic is even reading. The contrast between the tortures and the prayerful figures is echoed in the figure of Jesus himself. Christ sits enthroned and holding an orb, symbol of his kingly reign, calmly enduring all for our sake. This is clearly a different kind of king. We are meant to think deeply on the Passion and meditate on its implications for how we see Christ—and by extension how we are to understand authority and power.
Jesus’s encounter with Pilate and the humiliations he suffered provides the paradigm for a different kind of power. It signals the end of human and demonic powers and principalities: “My kingdom is not of this world” –– by which Jesus declared and enacted a different kind of rule. Godly authority begins with silence, self-sacrifice, and submission to God’s will––not boasting, selfish ambition or displays of arrogant posturing. This new kind of reign is a kingdom of love, distinguished by lowliness and meekness of heart.
Pilate’s “power” was a shambles that day.
PRAYER
Oh God, to whom all powers and principalities must one day bend the knee, we seek through Your grace the right ordering of our vision of government and of power and authority. We ask that you create in us an increased capacity for love and forgiveness—modeling before our neighbors that same humility and dignity which Jesus displayed before Pontius Pilate. Your Kingdom does not require swords, but rather ploughshares. Likewise, may our own attempts at justice be suffused with the humble acknowledgement of our own injustice and need for mercy. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Bruce Herman
Lothlórien Distinguished Chair in Fine Arts
Gordon College, Wenham, Massachusetts
About the Artwork:
The Mocking of Christ (1440-42)
Fra Angelico
Fresco
San Marco Monastery, Florence, Italy
About the Artist:
Guido di Pietro known as Fra Angelico (1395-1455) was one of the great masters of the Early Italian Renaissance. Born in the countryside of Florence, Fra Angelico (angelic friar) was already an established artist when he joined the Dominican order. Though he received commissions for important altarpieces from his own monastery, San Domenico in Fiesole, he was sought out by other Dominicans in Florence, Cortona, and Perugia, and other religious institutions as far away as Orvieto and Rome. Known for his pious treatment of biblical subjects, he portrayed his subjects with unprecedented psychological understanding and a compelling realism. English writer and critic William Michael Rossetti wrote of the friar: “ Fra Angelico led the devout and ascetic life of a Dominican friar, and never rose above that rank; he followed the dictates of the order in caring for the poor; he was always good-humored. All of his many paintings were of divine subjects, and it seems that he never altered or retouched them, perhaps from a religious conviction that, because his paintings were divinely inspired, they should retain their original form. He was wont to say that he who illustrates the acts of Christ should be with Christ. It is averred that he never handled a brush without fervent prayer and he wept when he painted a Crucifixion. The Last Judgment and the Annunciation were two of the subjects he most frequently treated.” Fra Angelico was beatified by Pope John Paul II in 1982. He is known as the patron saint of artists.
About the Music:
Passio Domini Nostri Jesus Christi Secundum Joannem
(Passion of the Christ According to St. John)
Lyrics:
When the chief priests therefore and officers saw him,
they cried out, saying:
Crucify him, crucify him.
Pilate saith unto them:
Take ye him, and crucify him:
for I find no fault in him.
The Jews answered him:
We have a law, and by our law he ought to die,
because he made himself the Son of God.
When Pilate therefore heard that saying,
he was the more afraid;
And went again into the judgment hall,
and saith unto Jesus:
Whence art thou?
But Jesus gave him no answer.
Then saith Pilate unto him:
Speakest thou not unto me?
Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee,
and have power to release thee?
Jesus answered:
Thou couldest have no power at all against me,
except it were given thee from above:
therefore he that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin.
And from thenceforth Pilate sought to release him:
but the Jews cried out, saying:
If thou let this man go,
thou art not Caesar's friend:
whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against Caesar.
When Pilate therefore heard that saying,
he brought Jesus forth, and sat down in the judgment seat
in a place that is called the Pavement,
but in the Hebrew, Gabbatha.
And it was the preparation of the passover,
and about the sixth hour:
and he saith unto the Jews:
Behold your King!
But they cried out:
Away with him, away with him,
crucify him.|
Pilate saith unto them:
Shall I crucify your King?
The chief priests answered:
We have no king but Caesar.
About the Composer:
Arvo Pärt (b. 1935) is an Estonian composer of classical and sacred music. Since the late 1970s, Pärt, an Orthodox Christian, has worked in a minimalist style that employs his self-invented compositional technique, tintinnabuli. His music is in part inspired by Gregorian chant. Since 2013, Pärt has had the distinction of being the most performed contemporary composer in the world. Although the recipient of numerous awards and honors from nations around the globe, the humble maestro strives to keep out of the limelight, endeavoring to give God credit for his many accomplishments. The newly established International Arvo Pärt Centre, located in the Estonian village of Laulasmaa, includes a research institute, an education and music centre, a museum, a publishing facility, and an archive of Pärt's works.
Pärt wrote St. John’s Passion in such a way that it recalls the purity and timelessness of the great musical passions of the 17th century. Taken from chapters 18 & 19 of the Gospel of John, the oratorio is sung in Latin. Music critic Joe McLellan states, “This simplicity, reminiscent of medieval plainchant, is achieved through rather complex resources: two soloists--Michael George for the words of Christ, John Potter for those of Pilate; the remaining members of the Hilliard Ensemble singing the Gospel narrative in harmony; a small chorus for the words of the crowd and other characters; and a chamber ensemble (oboe, bassoon, violin, cello, and organ) to accompany the voices. The performance and cathedral ambiance are just right.”
http://www.arvopart.ee/en/
About the Performers:
Paul Hillier (b.1949) is a conductor, music director and baritone. He specializes in early music and contemporary art music, especially that by composers Steve Reich and Arvo Pärt. He studied at the Guildhall School of Music, beginning his professional career while a vicar-scholar at St Paul's Cathedral, London. In 1973 He founded and directed the Hilliard Ensemble taking this all male quartet to the peak of international recognition. His concert début was in 1974 in London's Purcell Room. Since 2003, Hillier has been Chief Conductor of Ars Nova (Copenhagen). Hillier has recorded a number of solo albums and in 2008 he was appointed Artistic Director and Chief Conductor of the National Chamber Choir of Ireland.
http://theatreofvoices.com/
About the Poet:
Andrew Hudgins (b. 1951) is an American poet. He is the author of numerous collections of poetry and essays, many of which have received high critical praise, such as The Never-Ending: New Poems (1991), which was a finalist for the National Book Awards; After the Lost War: A Narrative (1988), which received the Poets' Prize; and Saints and Strangers (1985), which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. Commended by critics for his striking ability to embody the Southern Gothic tradition of American literature, his poetry is filled with sanguinary images of guilt, sacrifice, and powerlessness.