Tag: Pontius Pilate

Joseph, the Maverick

We tend to love movies with mavericks as main characters. We think of Top Gun and certainly Top Gun Maverick. I remember the television show Maverick, starring James Garner, a maverick’s maverick. As a youngster, I loved watching Garner’s character operate outside accepted cultural norms. I secretly wanted to emulate Maverick, but as a first-born farm kid (with my dad in the room as we watched), I knew that imitating Maverick was out of the question.

Maverick – an unorthodox or independent-minded person

Unbeknownst to most of us, the etymology of maverick is fairly recent, derived from the name of Samuel A. Maverick (1803–70), a mid-19th-century Texas rancher who did not brand his cattle. Thus a secondary definition used mostly in North America: an unbranded calf or yearling.

I wonder if the attraction to mavericks is an opportunity to live vicariously through them. I wonder if deep down we’d all like to be a bit of a maverick now and then, but propriety and societal norms deter us from doing so.

Joseph of Arimathea was no maverick. He was a wealthy, first-century member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling Council of the Jewish people. As the ruling council, the Sanhedrin was comprised of the wealthy and elite. At the time of Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion, the Council had religious, economic, and political power. The common people feared them.

Joseph wasn’t only a member, but likely a member in good standing given that he was considered a “good and upright man” (Luke 23) and a “prominent member” (Mark 15). His reputation was solid. His theology was apparently solid as well as he was waiting for the kingdom of God. He must have had “ears to hear” since he became a disciple of Jesus, though in secret because he feared the other leaders. Not wanting to risk his standing or reputation, Joseph of Arimathea was no maverick.

We also know that he did not consent to the decision and actions of the Council (Luke 23) to be rid of Jesus, though there is no evidence that he spoke out against the rest of the leadership during the “trial.” Then something happened to Joseph. Somehow, sometime between the trial and Jesus’ death, he got a backbone and became a maverick. He was different. He was not the same.

He went to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, with an audacious request. He asked for the body of Jesus so he could honor Him with a proper, pre-sabbath burial. In his newfound maverick-ness, Joesph’s request was audacious beyond imagination.

First, he went against the Council. They likely didn’t care about Jesus enough to follow Jewish tradition regarding burial before sundown, before the beginning of the sabbath of the Passover week. They had relinquished all kosher propriety when they tried Jesus illegally, then partnered with the Romans to silence him. “Let him hang there – we are done with him!”

Secondly, Jesus was executed for high treason. Romans didn’t allow the bodies of treasonous persons to be removed from crosses.  They got as much leverage as possible from each crucifixion.  Bodies hung for days as a reminder to those in eyesight not to ‘cross’ the Empire.  And if a body hung there over the Sabbath?  What did they care?  Caesar was their deity, not some Jewish god.

Pilate was probably in a pretty bad mood when Joseph, the maverick, made his request.  He hadn’t listened to his wife regarding Jesus.  He tried to appease and please everyone politically and it backfired.  He sent an innocent man to his death and he knew it.  The Sanhedrin had manipulated him.  They won and he lost.  Roman governors weren’t fond of being one-upped by their subjects.  What was Rome going to say about this when they found out (and they would)?

Joseph boldly went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body so he could bury it in his own tomb (personal tombs were for family, not criminals).  Only the wealthy and elite had their own tombs. When he, a member of the Sanhedrin, went to Pilate, he risked it all.  He risked his life – Pilate could have jailed him or even killed him.  And he risked his reputation. What would be his fate when the rest of the Council found out what he did.  What of his status?  His wealth?

But Joseph was changing.  Somewhere along his journey, he encountered Jesus.  And he began to act like a maverick – a very bold maverick.  He walked away from the identity, power, position, and comfort of being a member of the Council.  The kingdom-seeker found the kingdom at hand – Jesus.  

Encounters with Jesus change us. Always. We will never be the same. We might even become mavericks.

Crucify Him!

It was the early 1970s. I had just begun to seriously follow Jesus. I was toggling over from a simple cognitive belief in Jesus to actually desiring to figure out what it meant to be a follower.

Late one evening, sitting in my living room, I was reading the Gospel of Mark in my new-found JB Phillips New Testament translation. As I read, I found myself immersed in the story – watching and following Jesus’ movements from the periphery. Why was I following Jesus? I couldn’t NOT. There was something about this man.

Reaching Mark 14-15 (the Passion narrative), which I was so familiar with that I didn’t know the story at all, I witnessed Jesus’ capture. I stood outside the High Priest’s house where Jesus was being questioned by the religious leaders. Watching as a bystander, I saw Peter interact with a young woman. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could see that he was getting agitated – agitated to the point of cursing at her.

It was dawn. The eastern sky was starting to take on a bluish hue and the roosters were crowing in the distance. A crowd began to gather, asking and wondering what was happening. Suddenly they brought Jesus out of the house and the crowd started to move, so I followed. We ended up in the Praetorium, the common courtyard connected to the palace of the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate. I was in the back of the crowd, straining to see and hear what was going on.

Pilate seemed confused. What had this man done? Why had the religious leaders brought Jesus to him? He apparently offered to release either Jesus or Barabbas, who was in jail because he had led a failed insurrection against the Roman government. People around me started to chant Barabbas’ name, they wanted him released. Made sense – he had the guts to act on his nationalistic beliefs. Pilate then hushed the crowed. “What shall I do with Jesus, the so-called king of the Jews?” I could hear some people in the front yell “crucify him.” Then it became a chant. “Crucify him! Crucify him! We have no king but Caesar!” The chant filled the Praetorium courtyard. People around me were chanting, staring at me with a sort of patriotic contempt. Not having the courage to stand my ground, I yelled “Crucify him!”

Suddenly I was aware of my surroundings – my living room with my Phillips New Testament in my hands. I was fully aware that had I been there that day, I would have yelled “Crucify him” because I didn’t have the backbone to stand against the crowd. I suddenly felt like Peter must have felt. And I too, wept bitterly. And for a long time, till I fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning with sadness and a fair amount of self-abasement. I remember the feeling lasted several days. As I kept reading, the crucifixion took on a whole different meaning for me than ever before. I had called for his death. I was part of an insurrection against God’s own son. I would have yelled “crucify him!” I had followed the crowd, inflamed by people with an agenda that didn’t serve God’s purposes – people that had no personal care for or interest in the crowd. That realization increased the sadness and abasement.

A few days later I read the account of Peter’s denial in the Gospel of Luke (Luke 22:54-62), again from the Phillips translation. After Peter’s predicted third denial, the narrative says:

The Lord turned his head and looked straight at Peter…

Prior to my “Crucify him” experience, I think I was a bit judgemental of Peter’s denial. Serious, Peter? Jesus even warned you, yet you still denied him. From that perspective I assumed Jesus’ “look” might have communicated, “This is what I warned you would happen.” Not now. My perspective had changed! I envisioned Jesus’ eyes full of compassion as if to say, “It hurts, Peter, doesn’t it?” Feeling the same compassion, I was able to leave the sadness and self-abasement behind and follow Him anew, for which I will be forever grateful!

A prayer from Walter Wangerin’s Reliving the Passion:

Oh Jesus: you gazed into the hundred hearts amassed before you, thick with fear and fury. Was mine among them? Yes. Mine was among them. I have desired your death in order to preserve my life, my way of life, my fulfillment, and my own control. But you, like me, desired your death too! By a mercy I cannot comprehend, you accepted my evil intent even to save my own life! Well, I am therefore my own no more, but yours – no more an enemy, a friend to you forever. Lord Jesus, how I love you! Amen.