“People to meet in heaven: Barabbas”
Matthew 27:15-23
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
Ray Kolbe was born in January of 1894, in a little town in central Poland, the second son of a poor weaver. Sixteen years later, he became a monk and took the name Maximilian--Maximilian Kolbe. He studied in Rome and was ordained into the priesthood in 1919.
And in the years that followed, he set up other friaries, other brotherhoods of monks, in Warsaw, Nagasaki and even India. Then in 1936, his church called him back home to Poland.
But a few years later, when Germany invaded Poland, Kolbe knew they would soon take the monastery, so he sent most of the monks back home. And sure enough, the Germans captured not only the monastery, but Kolbe and his four companions. They took them to the deathcamp in Auschwitz.
He wrote to his mother: “Everything is well. Don’t worry about me or my health, because the good God is everywhere and provides for everything with love. Don’t write to me till you’ve received other news from me, because I do not know how long I’ll stay.”
But in the months that followed, prisoners were slowly and systematically starved—one cup of coffee in the morning, then after work, a weak bowl of soup and some bread.
And to discourage escapees, Auschwitz had a rule that if any man ran away, ten men would die in his place.
And one night in July, the guards thought a man escaped, so they marched ten men out of the bunker. “You will all pay for this,” they said. “Ten of you will be locked in the starvation bunker without food or water until you die.”
One of them, Franciszek Gajowniczek, cried, “My poor wife! My poor children! What will they do?”
That’s when Father Kolb stepped up before the commandant, took off his cap and said, “I am old. He has a wife and children. Let me take his place.”
The commandant looked down at him, thought for a moment, then, amazingly, accepted his offer. Apparently the Nazis had more use for a young worker than for an old one, and was happy to make the exchange. So Gajowniczek returned to the barracks, and the priest took his place.
In the history of Auschwitz, it was the first and the last time such a thing ever took place.
So it was for a man named Barabbas.
Please turn with me in your Bible to page 1059 as I read the words of our text. I’ll start at chapter 27, verse 15, where it says, “The Crowd Chooses Barabbas.”
“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!’”
I’ll stop there.
Matthew wrote, “And they had then a notorious prisoner called Barabbas.”
Now we don’t know a lot about him. We don’t know whether he was young or old, married or single, or if he had a family of his own. All we know for certain is that he was found guilty and was condemned to die.
And, interestingly enough, all four gospels speak of him—Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
Even more, while the New Testament devotes thirty-two verses to Judas, the betrayer, Barabbas got thirty-eight.
Why? Because he’s the living, breathing embodiment of a helpless, hopeless sinner who’s spared from condemnation. He’s the flesh-and-blood sign and symbol of every redeemed sinner. As one author put it, “Barabbas stands for every Son of Adam who has ever walked on planet earth.” And in a very true and real way, he could say, “Christ died for me.”
“Barabbas,” they called him. In Aramaic, the word “bar” meant “son,” and “abba” meant “father.” So “Barabbas” literally meant, “son of the father.” It was a name that rabbis often called their sons.
Which makes us wonder—was Barabbas the son of a rabbi? Did he grow up learning the Word of God and the traditions of his fathers? Did he love his nation Israel, and hate Rome’s pagan control?
And notice the word Matthew used for him—“notorious.” “And they had then a notorious prisoner called Barabbas.” It’s a word that means famous, infamous, renowned, legendary. He was a fierce patriot for Israel.
John, in his gospel, said he had taken part in a rebellion. And Mark wrote he was in prison for insurrection and murder.
But as far as Rome was concerned, no matter who he was or where he had come from, he was a criminal, a thief, a bandit, a revolutionary. He was a heartless, cold-blooded killer. And the cross was where he belonged.
And Pilate was more than happy to oblige. That’s why he threw him, bound and chained, in that dark prison cell, waiting to die.
He could hear the shouting, heckling crowd. The word, “Crucify,” punctured the early morning air. How would it feel to be scourged and crucified, to have nails driven through his hands and feet?
Pilate knew Jesus was innocent, that it was out of envy He was handed over to him. Though he didn’t really know Him or understand Him, one thing he did know, and that was that Jesus had done nothing wrong.
So not knowing what else to do, he resorted to an abiliteo, a way of dealing with a conquered people to gain some respect—Paschal amnesty. Hand over some prisoner, no matter what he had done, to encourage peace and good will. Besides, what better way to illustrate deliverance, Passover, than to free a man who was condemned to death?
It was a brilliant move, like killing two birds with one stone. Bring out the worst, the most vile, repulsive, disgusting prisoner anyone could find, and set him up against Jesus. Who would the crowd choose? The answer was perfectly clear.
Even more, a few Greek manuscripts record what might well have been Barabbas’ first name—Yeshua, Jesus. How Pilate must have smiled, rather proud of himself, to stand them, side-by-side, before the taunting crowd. “Which of the two do you want me to release to you?” he asked. “Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called Christ?”
But to Pilate’s shock and utter disbelief, they shouted, “Barabbas.” “Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” With one voice, they roared, “Crucify!”
In a very real way, the question that Pilate once asked the people still stands before each of us today—“Which of the two do you want? Barabbas or Jesus?”
Author David Garland once wrote: “The choice of Barabbas represents the human preference for the one who represents our narrow personal hopes…He appeals to our basic instinct to protect our interests, with violence if necessary…Our heroes become the Barabbases of the world, who take matters into their own hands and dispatch the enemy with brute force or clever trickery.” And he wrote: “If the vote came today, then Barabbas would likely win again, hands down.”
But also standing before you, wounded, beaten, mocked and scourged, bloodied and dressed in a purple robe, is Jesus. He offers pardon, atonement, and forgiveness of sin. And best of all, He promises everlasting life.
Which of the two do you want?
One more thing. You remember the man I mentioned at the beginning, Father Maximilian Kolbe, who died, so another man, Franciszek Gajowniczek, could go free.
Well, after spending five years, five months and nine days in Auschwitz, Gajowniczek did go free. And he returned to his hometown, to his wife, but not to his two sons. They had been killed in war.
And every year, for the next fifty years, every August 14th, he went back to Auschwitz to pay homage to Father Kolbe, to honor the man who died so he could live.
In the words of a hymn: “He breaks the pow’r of canceled sin, He sets the pris’ner free. His blood can make the foulest clean, His blood availed for me.”
Dear Father, today we’ve come, once again, to Pilate’s judgment hall to see our Lord arraigned. Grant that each of us may know and confess that He has died for me. This we ask in His name. Amen