Another view of Good Friday

Caiaphas was the Chief Priest in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus' crucifixion. I imagine what was going through his head at the time. I imagine him writing to his son about it:

My Dear Son Elionaecus.

Now that the Passover festival is complete, I am finally availed of time to write you. I am weary of spirit and body both from the demands of the festival time, as well as from the weight of the mantle I wear. It has become more clear to me than ever that the small stirrings which have occurred in our nation will soon culminate in a popular uprising against the Roman authority. I would welcome such an event if I believed that it would be our gain, but instead I fear that the outcome of any such event will be the utter destruction of us as a people. Thus it is that my role here has become more that of an arbiter than of a priest. The balance which exists between our nation and the authority must be maintained, even if it necessitates some small sacrifices.

I say all this to you because you have undoubtedly heard of the events of this Passover concerning the Nazarene prophet. I say to you that it was a difficult thing to watch, and a more difficult thing to have been forced to be an actor in that drama. Needless to say, there will be many versions of events circulated, and I fear that both my name and the name of your grandfather may well be mentioned at times in these tales. This troubles me doubly because I believe Pilate’s calculated actions in this matter have sown the seeds of destruction for our peoples by inciting further unrest at the expense of all of us on the Sanhedrin. Not that the Nazarene was without blame. He did himself much harm by openly consorting with a group of Galileans! Didn’t he realize that Galileans are always suspect of sedition? Had he been blind and deaf to the anti-Roman agitation there that has for years drawn unusual attention from the Governor? Imagine - he would not even deny that he had claimed kingship! Well, needless to say, Pilate made great sport of that issue, even going so far as to post a sign on the scaffold “King of the Jews”. While many of the throngs at the execution may have found it humorous, we on the Sanhedrin knew what Pilate intended by that message – that the only “King” that our people needed is Caesar.

In fairness, I can understand Pilate’s position. Can you imagine how such a story would have been received in Rome? I can assure you that if Caesar had received such news, we would all be hanging from the crossbeams of a crucifixion scaffold. While I understand that circumstances demanded that he take action, I am troubled that we were once again forced to send one of our own to the slaughter for Rome. I continue to be troubled by the need to balance the best interests of our people against the petty vindictiveness and blood lust of our Governor.

At the trial Pilate asked the crowd if they wanted him to release the Nazarene, but he specifically referred to him as “…your king…” I tell you truthfully that I felt my breath leave me when he asked the question that way. Fortunately, someone had the good sense to shout out that we had no king except Caesar. Pilate seemed disappointed that his trick failed, and he was denied the chance to arrest the whole throng on sedition charges. Then he washes his hands, can you imagine it! He washes his hands as if the decision to execute the man was ours.

The execution itself was a most terrible spectacle. I usually don’t attend them because they are so disturbing, but, perhaps because I had spent so much time questioning this man, I sensed something drawing me to attend.

I recall the meeting the Sanhedrin had with him, there were so many witnesses who clearly had been sent by the Governor to try to convince us of his guilt. All the while, he sat there, not speaking even to defend himself. He was probably a rebel, and definitely lacking good judgement, but I actually felt pity for him nonetheless… That is until he claimed to be the one the Pharisees say was promised by the prophet Isaiha.

I can’t imagine why he said such a thing. He must have known what the reaction would be. So…everyone condemned him to die for his blasphemy, and many struck him, and some spat on him, and… I am now ashamed to say that I was one of them. I say I am now ashamed because I have tried to learn more about this man as I have struggled to make sense of his behaviour and actions.

For instance, at the execution, as the end came he made a most curious cry, saying Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani? My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? I continue to wonder what he could have meant by that? Also, perhaps it was just coincidence, but one of those mysterious ground shakings occurred at the moment that he died and I noted that it seemed to feel colder. I must tell you that the whole spectacle was more than a little unnerving for all of us. It troubles me when I look back on the details of that day, but I record them not so much for myself, as for yours, that you may share in it through my eyes.

I remember noticing some older women, and a few others, followers perhaps, sitting off some distance the whole day, watching him. It seemed sometimes as if he would never die and give himself and his friend’s peace. I was disturbed at how the Roman soldiers seemed to express particular delight in his prolonged suffering. It was no doubt another means of reinforcing a message to all of us, but wasn’t it enough that they had tormented him all day, and stolen the very clothing from him?

In any event, the execution seemed to satisfy Pilate, and served as a sufficient example to us all that the remainder of the festival was unmarked by any further incidents.

But the question remains: who was this man? The more I learn out about him, and his teachings, the more uncertain I am about what we have done here. Clearly he was not mad, yet just as clearly he and many others believed that he was the Messiah. Was he? Is it possible that the Pharisees are right, and a messiah will come… or has come? I admit to you in strictest confidence that part of me wants to believe him. I wish I was able to speak freely on these thoughts, and ask these questions openly, but while I sit on the Sanhedran that is a luxury that will have to remain confined in letters to you, my precious son.

Since this Passover feast, I have begun to ponder the question – How will we know when or if a messiah comes? Will we know, and even if we do, will we be able to admit it to ourselves, and speak of it in the presence of others who might scoff at us, call us blasphemers…even perhaps spit on us and condemn us?

Tell your brother and mother that while troubled in spirit I am well in body, and will return home soon. Your esteemed Grandfather and Uncles also send their regards.

Your Father, Joseph Caiaphas