“Prejudice”

Sunday, December 04, 2022

But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release for them Barabbas instead. And Pilate again said to them, “Then what shall I do with the man you call the King of the Jews?” And they cried out again, “Crucify him.” And Pilate said to them, “Why? What evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Crucify him.” So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified. (Mark 15.11-15)

This passage is just one short snippet of all that was said and done in the process of shuffling Jesus off to be crucified, but its overall theme can teach us a lot about human nature and our own desires.  Pilate had not wished to execute Jesus—not out of allegiance to justice, but out of a desire to keep his jurisdiction in order, avoiding nasty riots and civil conflict.  Knowing that the Jewish authorities were trying to get rid of Jesus “out of envy” (Mk 15.10), Pilate appealed to the crowd, and demonstrated  why it’s a mistake to appeal to the majority in any argument.  Even if the majority was on your side a moment ago, that doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way, and now you’ve handed over the decision to the mob.  In this case, that was, “Crucify him.”  Caught off guard and unwilling to believe this was really the prevailing opinion, Pilate asked their reasoning: “Why?  What evil has he done?”  In response, we might have expected a repeat of the charges the council had filed against Jesus when they first brought him to Pilate: “We found this man misleading our nation and forbidding us to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that he himself is Christ, a king” (Lk 23.2).  But Pilate had found these charges to be ridiculous, so they didn’t repeat them.  What’s their answer, then?  What’s their rationale for wanting Jesus executed?  Their reply is telling: “Crucify him” (Mk 15.14).  There’s no explanation, no insight into Jesus’ nefarious deeds.  Instead, it’s an exercise of pure will.  Why crucify him?  Stop asking questions and just do it!

The same spirit was at work the next day, when the chief priests and Pharisees—the same folks who’d repeatedly faulted Jesus for healing on the Sabbath, mind you—found it quite reasonable to seek an audience with Pilate and conduct their own official business on the Sabbath, in order to set a guard on Jesus’ tomb.  Why?  They told Pilate,

“Sir, we remember how that impostor said, while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise.’ Therefore order the tomb to be made secure until the third day, lest his disciples go and steal him away and tell the people, ‘He has risen from the dead,’ and the last fraud will be worse than the first.” (Matthew 27.63-64)

The purpose of the guard was to make absolutely sure there could be no grave robbery.  But Jesus’s body went missing, anyway.  The guards reported the arrival of a  being with superhuman strength and such a dazzling appearance that these trained men-at-arms fainted out of fright (Mt 28.2-3, 11).  What did the authorities conclude?

[T]hey gave a sufficient sum of money to the soldiers and said, “Tell people, ‘His disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep.’ And if this comes to the governor's ears, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble.” (Matthew 28.12-14)

Let’s not bother asking how the soldiers were supposed to know the identities of the grave robbers, if they were asleep; instead, let’s focus on the ones in charge.  They’d demanded guards from Pilate, to avert precisely this problem!  Yet, it’s their only explanation of what happened to Jesus’ body.  They may even have managed to convince themselves it was really true.  But it’s obvious they’d already determined the conclusion—just as they had done with regard to crucifying Jesus—and all reason had gone out the window, in order to get where they wanted.

But it’s not just the chief priests and the Pharisees.  It’s human nature.  They’d already made a judgment, determining a particular endpoint to be good, and so even when contrary evidence was presented along the way to reaching their desired goal, they flatly disregarded it, and stuck to the narrative they’d already established.  We could call this prejudice, and rightly condemn these people for it; yet, we all engage in prejudice.  Despite what we’d like to think, prejudice is, in fact, essential to everyday life!  We don’t have time in the day to thoroughly vet everyone and everything we encounter.  We have to make snap judgments with very few pieces of evidence.  Is this bridge strong enough for me to cross?  Does the approaching stranger mean me harm?  Is this lettuce safe to eat?  Has my vehicle’s extended warranty really expired?  When decisions must be immediate, we lump in a few scant facts with a large dose of prejudice, choose a course of action, and hope it was the right one.  When it’s rooted in truth, a certain degree of prejudice serves us well.  In the spiritual realm, it keeps us from being

tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. (Ephesians 4.14)

But when our prejudices are rooted in our selfish desires—as were those of the authorities seeking to do away with Jesus—it leads very obviously in the wrong direction!  The highest official in the land declared Jesus innocent; no matter, crucify him!  Their own guards reported that an angel descended and rolled back the stone to Jesus’ now empty grave; no, his disciples stole the body!  It’s easy to see their folly, but the truth is that we’ve all done this.  We all do this.  Can we see it in ourselves?  As we strive to be more closely conformed to the image of Christ, is it a true reflection of God’s glory, or an idol we’ve built in our own image?

Jeremy Nettles

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