For whom would the mob cry?
Jesus bar Joseph, Rabbi?
Jesus Barabbas, warrior?
Which Jesus do you chose?
Pilate asked the unsettled throng.
We want a strong-man, give us Barabbas!
What should I do with your Messiah?
But he is innocent.
I wash my hands.
One Jesus was freed;
One Jesus was flogged.
One was seen as a savior;
The other was crucified.
Caesar's soldiers adorned him in royal scarlet.
They crowned him with a royal crown.
They gave him a royal scepter.
They who bowed to only Caesar,
Bowed down in petty mockery.
Then they mounted him upon a cross:
Here dies your weak and puny King!
Crowds gathered for the entertainment.
They heckled him there as he hung:
what, can't you get down from there?
You said you were the Son of God,
Bar Abba, didn't you your Majesty?
The Priests also gathered,
You "saved" other people,
But you can't save yourself?
Come on down! Let us see!
Then we'll believe you're a King!
If you are the Son of God,
Throw yourself down!
In that field of crosses,
Others too were dying -
They too laughed to see
He who would be King.
I am so alone.
I AM, so alone.
Each and every morning, we must answer Pilate's question: which Jesus do we want?
Do we want Yeshua bar Abbas, the strong lion, the man of might and warfare, the fleshy son of the times? Or, do we want Yeshua bar Abbas, the Prince of Peace, the Son of God?
Do we chose an Empire of might-makes-right, or the Kingdom of the meek?
(Painting by Hieronymous Bosch)