Bystander

John 19

Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. (John 19)

As I write this to you, the rabbi Jesus is being crucified. And I should be there. Yes, I should, but I am not. Am I too busy? Too occupied with important matters? Needed somewhere away for an emergency?

Pietro Perugino

15th Century

No, none of those. If I am completely honest with myself, I will admit that I am not there because I am afraid. Not only afraid of some sort of guilt by association (Roman soldiers are everywhere), but to my regret, I am afraid of how it might look to certain people of power: people who could cause problems for me, people who could view me as some sort of threat to their positions, who could literally exile me outside of our faith community.

I can try to claim that I really didn’t know: didn’t know how serious was the matter of Jesus of Nazareth, didn’t know how deeply in trouble he truly was, and how hot was the hatred that had been stirred up against him. I could try to claim that I am just a bystander to some disturbing events, that I wasn’t truly involved, and that I have no stake in this rabbi from Galilee.

But that wouldn’t be the truth. No, in truth, I am more than a bystander. Much more.

Who am I? Like Jesus, I am a Jew, a son of Abraham, living in what you call the first century. My home is in Jerusalem, where I operate a business selling olive oil. You would not call me prosperous, but neither would you call me poor. I do well enough to support a wife and children.

Likewise, you would not call me devout, but I do attempt to earnestly follow Torah. I have lived a life firmly inside the boundaries of my faith.

But Jesus of Nazareth has challenged those boundaries. Yes, he has pointed out the hypocrisies that had previously gone unnoticed, at least unnoticed by me. For example, he has called us to take care of the poor, the stranger and the outsider, to, as he says, love our “neighbor.” He criticizes our faithfulness to the minor points of the law while we ignore the “weightier matters of justice, mercy and faith.”

His words have deeply impacted me, causing something of a self-assessment, one which I confess, I have failed. And as a result, I have become what you might call a casual follower of Jesus, certainly more than just an observer.

But always in secret. You see, now that Jesus has traveled from Galilee to Jerusalem, he has upset our leadership, priests, scribes, Pharisees and elders of our faith. In so many words, Jesus has disturbed a power structure that has been in place for literally hundreds of years, and which, until the arrival of Jesus, was firmly in control.

The large crowds who listened to Jesus in the temple have rendered that power structure vulnerable as Jesus spoke against its hypocrisy. And as you know, when a power structure feels threatened, it will fight back.

I could see it coming. Yes, a reckoning was coming between our religious leaders and Jesus. In some ways, it was almost as if Jesus was asking for it, driving our leaders to such a degree of opposition that they would seek to eliminate him. I knew that they were planning something.

And when their plans played out, what about the crowds? Yes, the crowds who welcomed Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem, seated on the back of a donkey. And the crowds who gathered in the temple to hear him teach, what about them? Would they support Jesus as our leaders showed their hand in opposing him? Would they speak up for Jesus? Would they demand that our leaders accept and even respect him? Read on and see for yourself.

You must understand that our leaders reacted so violently to Jesus because he seemed to invade the temple. You see, Jesus could have taught from almost anywhere in Jerusalem. But instead, he occupied the temple, drawing large crowds. He called the temple “my father’s house.”

In effect, his decision to do that elevated the conflict between Jesus and our leaders to a turf issue, one which literally challenged the most treasured privileges and trappings of their offices. There is only one temple. And while it has no official owner, the priests and elders jealously guard and control it.

And when Jesus, in his very first day in the city, entered the temple and physically threw out the money changers, he crossed a boundary that put all of them on alert. Then, day by day, he taught inside the temple grounds. And day by day, our elders and leaders sought to discredit him to the crowds.

But they failed and the crowds continued to grow. Desperation set in, leading to the final solution, the elimination of Jesus.

I had known of Jesus only by report. His ministry was mostly centered in Galilee, far from Jerusalem. On occasion he would come to the holy city for a festival, and when he did, he ruffled feathers. But each time, he retreated back to the safety of Galilee. That is, until now. This would be his final appearance in Jerusalem and I had to assume that Jesus was aware.

I knew enough about Jesus to want to hear him teach. And while, as I said, his teaching was convicting to me personally, it was also wonderful and inspiring. Jesus taught in a way that went to my heart, calling me to something new and powerful that I had never before felt. He seemed to feed a hunger in me for something my previous life in the faith was not satisfying.

And so, as the days passed, I found myself spending more time listening, and in a way, growing in my faith. His words attracted me in a way I had never before experienced. I couldn’t get enough!

But then, the plan of our leaders became clear to us all. Jesus was arrested and questioned by the council of our most senior leaders. They claimed that he blasphemed, a violation whose penalty was death.

Jesus was then taken to our Roman governor, Pontius Pilate. Our chief priests and elders wanted him to condemn Jesus for treason against the emperor, a crime which carried the penalty of crucifixion.

But Pilate found no guilt in Jesus, who remained remarkably quiet. In fact, amazingly, Jesus did nothing to defend himself.

And that’s where my shame comes in.

You see, I wasn’t there. I could have been, but I stayed away. Our elders had stirred up a crowd to demand the crucifixion of Jesus. And they did, shouting for his death. Under pressure from them, Pilate consented and sent Jesus off to be flogged and killed.

Who was there to speak for Jesus? Who was there to defend him? Where were the crowds who had attentively listened to him in the temple, day after day? And most important, where was I?

One of my friends, a man who is close to our leaders, asked me about Jesus.

“Did you hear?” he asked. “Jesus has been condemned. No one spoke for him, no one supported him. Can you believe it? We are going to get rid of this troublemaker, once and for all. Isn’t that wonderful? We’ll go back to the way things were before he ever came to Jerusalem.”

I didn’t know how to answer, though it was clear that I should have spoken up. Yes, I should have and yes, I should have been there during his mock trial, a voice speaking in support of this innocent rabbi.

But again, I did not. I was acting like a bystander. And now, even as I am writing this to you, Jesus is being crucified. And again, I should be there. From what I have heard, most of his closest followers are in hiding. He is virtually alone, with only one of his disciples present, along with his mother and some other women.

Where does this leave me? I listened to Jesus, and his words drove deeply into my heart. But when I was confronted with the decision to support him or not, I hid from that challenge.

Why was I so afraid? What can I do with my shame? Am I destined to be a bystander forever?

And what about you? If you had been in my position, would you have stood up? Would you have spoken up? I hope that, if you are ever called to stand up for someone or something important, you will find more courage than I have.

Please, don’t be like me. When you are called to speak or act, please don’t be a bystander.