Hilton Head Island, SC - March 23, 2014
The Chapel Without Walls
Matthew 26:57-68; John 18:12-14;19-24
Voices Near The Cross: Caiaphas
Some people say I have always sounded as though I were affecting an air of superiority. I prefer to think it is not an affectation. Nor is it an air.
I was born into one of the oldest and most prestigious families in all Judea, or "Yudah," as we still prefer to call it. Besides having been born well, I also married well. My wife's father, Annas, was himself the high priest for ten years before me. Between him and me there were three others who were appointed, but none of the three lasted more than a year. I have held the highest religious office in the land now for twelve years. (Caiaphas was to continue in office another six years after the incident with Jesus, at which time he was deposed by the-then Roman governor, Vitellius. Sic transit gloria. JMM)
You simply have no idea how difficult it is to try to exercise the position of high priest while at the same time trying to please the thousands of other priests, the whole people of Yisroel, and the Romans, whose governor of the Syrian province, Valerius Gratus, appointed me to my office. In the first place, many of my fellow Jews think it is none of the Romans' business whom we have as high priest, and so I am immediately suspect to a sizeable number of my own countrymen. But there is nothing I can do about that. It is Rome who has the upper hand these days, whether we like it or not. And much as no one really likes it, it is the way it is. One must deal with reality as it is, don't you know, rather than to wish for a reality which isn't.
In the second place, it has been exceedingly difficult to try to remain on good terms with all the other priests. Most of them serve in the temple on a rare basis, and thus they feel far removed from me. But that too is not my fault. They, as I, are all sons of Levi, and thus are entitled by birth to be priests at the altar of Adonoy, the God of Yisroel. If we have far too many priests, it is only because the sons of Levi have been far too busy creating male issue, as we say.
But in the third place -- and here is where I have the hardest assignment of all -- it has been problematic beyond description to try to stay on good terms with the present Roman governor of Judea, the relatively incompetent, relatively ineffectual, relatively innocuous Pontius Pilatus. But having said that, I will also say this for Pilatus: he also has his difficulties. We Jews are not an easy people to govern. No occupied nation is, but we especially. He has no comprehension of why we are so incensed by Roman so-called "gods" being worshipped by Roman troops within a hundred cubits of the temple of the only God there is. But -- also in his defense -- he has no basis for comprehension. Pilatus is like all Romans: he thinks only of politics and government, and not at all seriously about religion. He does not really understand who we are or what we stand for. He thinks we are the same as any of the other Roman occupied peoples: the Phrygians, the Cappadocians, the Syrians, the Egyptians, the Germans.
But we're not! We are the people of Yisroel! We are the chosen of Adonoy! We alone of all the earth's nations know who God is, and how He should be worshipped! The sacrifices of our people at His altars at our temple in His holy city of Yerushalayim alone please Adonoy!
Now to be certain, there are many in Yisroel, including some of the priests, who would disagree with what I have just told you. They do not think that we Jews possess exclusive access to the Holy One, blessed be He, and they say that it is an impertinence to suppose so.
No doubt all people are God's people, and no doubt others have valid insights into the mind and heart of Adonoy Sabaoth. Nonetheless, it is my firm conviction, from which I cannot be dissuaded, that the only proper access to Adonoy is through sacrifice, and the only proper place for that sacrifice is the temple, and the only proper people to perform the sacrifice are the Levitical priests, of whom I am, in the words of these detested Romans, the pontifex maximus.
Ah, but having mentioned that, I realize I have not yet even introduced myself to you! Please forgive me for my omission! I am Yosef Caiaphas bar-Levi. Likely you know me simply as Caiaphas.
My ancestors came into Eretz Yisroel with Joshua during the conquest. My branch of the Bar-Levi family have been among the most important of the priestly families for more than forty generations. I take my lineage seriously. It is a great responsibility to be a descendant of the tribe of Levi, and to be called upon to serve in the holy temple. But it is sometimes also a great burden. And that is what I am feeling at the moment.
Last evening a man named Yeshua bar-Yosef was brought to me by a deputation of Roman soldiers. Perhaps you have heard of him by another name; he is also called Yeshua ha-Notzri --- Jesus the Nazarene, you would say.
I had heard of this man some time ago. Apparently he has gone about the region of the Galil preaching and teaching. Five days ago he came to Yerushalayim for the Pesach festival. At Passover there are always hordes of people; most of them are The Great Unwashed, if the truth is told. I have been informed that when Yeshua entered the city, an unruly mob accompanied him, making overtures that he might be the long-awaited Mesheach.
Jesus the Messiah indeed! How could he be the Mesheach! He is from ha-Galil! He is not from Yerushalayim! Can you imagine Mesheach being from anyplace other than the holy city? And what is worse, Yeshua is associated with the Pharisees, those whom the rabble are beginning to call "rabbis." The rabbinic rabble, that's who they are! Who ordained them as "teachers," for such is the meaning of their impudent description! Only the priests are to be ordained! The temple is to be the center of our devotion to Adonoy, not these confounded synagogues which the Pharisees have created! The very word is indicative of their colossal effrontery; it is Greek, not Hebrew! The minds of the Pharisees have been captivated by Greek culture, Greek thought, Greek language! What is to become of the nation of Yisroel, if we follow the misguided lead of the demonic Pharisees?
But as though the Pharisees are not bad enough, there are other groups among the Jews who are attempting to lead the people astray. On the one hand there are the Zealots, the terrorists who assassinate Romans in the middle of the night or on lonely roads throughout the kingdom. On the other hand there are the Herodians, the fifth-column Jews who have cast in their lot with the Romans. They show no resistance at all, but actually seem to like having Romans mucking about in Eretz Yisroel. And then there are those strangest of all Jews, the Essenes, who claim that all the priests, particularly the high priest, are apostate, and that Essenes alone represent the true Yisroel. They have withdrawn to the desert on the shore of the Salt Sea, there, they say, to await the end of the world. What has become of Am-Yisroel? Have the people gone mad?
The only group who actively support the priests are the Sadducees, but of course they themselves are the creme de la creme among the priests. They are the most conservative of all the religious parties, unlike the detestable Zealots and Pharisees, who are the most radical. Why, the Pharisees even believe in the resurrection! But you tell me where it states in holy writ that the dead shall be raised!
Can you grasp how fractured our nation is? Do you see how close we are to total disintegration? With all these competing groups, and all this internal rancor within and facing the threat of Rome from without, is it any wonder that I must act with firm resolve and rapid dispatch? The purpose of leaders is to lead!
...But where was I? Oh yes; I was telling you about Yeshua ha-Notzri. When he arrived here in Yerushalayim, and increasing numbers of people began to murmur that he might be the Mesheach, I knew I had to do something. In the providence of God one of his followers, a strange chap called Yudah Ish-Keriot, came to me. He said he would arrange to have Yeshua turned over to the Romans if I would give Yeshua a trial in the Sanhedrin.
With that request I was, as you might suppose, only too happy to comply. If the religious high court of the land found Yeshua guilty of a serious infraction of God's law, then yet another loose catapult on the deck of the ship of state would be eliminated, and heaven knows we need all the help we can get.
I love Yisroel. I am a genuine patriot, of whom there are few intelligent ones left. I will do anything I can to preserve our nation, even if it means stretching the law.
Having said that, let me tell you something which I hope will never leave this room. In bringing Yeshua before the Sanhedrin, I confess that I violated several of our most sacred and time-honored laws. They say that confession is good for the soul, and my soul needs a large dose of goodness right about now.
Because Yeshua was brought to me at night, I immediately convened the Sanhedrin. It was better to work under the cover of darkness, I reasoned, because otherwise Yeshua's followers might hear what was happening and create an uproar. The members of the court assembled quickly in my home, and Yeshua was brought before us. The court is never to meet at night, only in the day, and never anywhere but in the Hall of Hewn Stone in the temple, but this was an extraordinary threat to Yisroel, and it required extraordinary measures.
The law states that no criminal case is to be heard during Pesach at all, but this was no ordinary criminal, and this was no ordinary Passover. The world is unravelling, don't you see, and something had to be done NOW!
It is written that no one can receive a verdict of guilty on the same day in which he is tried, that the judges must sleep on it before they pass a sentence of guilt. But Yeshua was so dangerous I felt we had to deal with him without delay.
The trial lasted only a few minutes. But it certainly did not go as I would ever have imagined.
The behavior of Yeshua was most curious; some would probably classify it as being absolutely bizarre. Each judge asked Yeshua a question, and he answered none of them. Round we went, from one judge to the next. They are the finest men in Yisroel, the envy of the whole nation. Yeshua was not insolent toward us, nor disrespectful. He was just - - - silent. He uttered not a word. And he looked so sad, so resigned. It was as though he thought the whole affair was a foregone conclusion before it even started. Well of course I knew that, but how could he? Were I on trial for my life, I would shout to the rooftops in my own defense, but Yeshua never murmured a single word.
There was no time to gather a parade of witnesses against him, although there again the criminal law clearly states that no one can be found guilty on the testimony of only one witness. But we did have one fellow who said he had heard Yeshua state that the temple of God would be destroyed, but that within three days it would be restored. True, nobody else gave us that testimony, but I had already heard from several sources that Yeshua had made that astounding claim. When it came my turn to interrogate Yeshua, I distinctly asked him whether he had said that, but again, he was silent. "You are under oath," I told him, "and I demand that you answer this one question: are you the Mesheach?"
It was then that Yeshua made his only statement. But it was not a statement, really, it sounded more like he was asking me a question. "You say that I am," he said.
Can you believe it! It was as though he was asking me to affirm the preposterous claim of his preposterous followers! "You say that I am" indeed! But he isn't, you know! He couldn't be! How could the Mesheach be such a lonely, silent, pathetic figure? If he were the Mesheach, surely he would have spoken up! Surely he would have acted from great strength, not from such apparent weakness! When Mesheach comes, he shall be great and glorious, and Yeshua was the very epitome of meekness and humility!
It did not us take long to arrive at a verdict. The testimony of innocence must be heard by the Sanhedrin before they hear any testimony of guilt, but there was no testimony of innocence. Not a soul spoke on behalf of Yeshua, and I was told that all his disciples fled the moment he was arrested.
As long as I am making a confession to you, let me also confess this: I thought -- and I still think! -- that by assisting in the arrangement of Yeshua's execution, I was in effect helping to save the nation. It is better that one man should die than that the whole nation be destroyed (See John 11:49 ff. and John 18:14). And, don't you know, Rome seems to be on the brink of obliterating us! We have become so belligerent, so ungovernable, that I fear they are running out of patience with us! So it seemed to me that if the Romans would crucify Yeshua -- and remember, only they can execute anyone; we cannot do it! -- that a false Mesheach would be eliminated and Rome would be appeased.
It is a terrible thing to be in a high position with great authority. You probably think it is wonderful, having all this power and these perks of high office. But it isn't. It is a huge weight, a back-breaking, spirit-rending burden.
As he stood before us, I have to admit that there was something within Yeshua which seemed profoundly admirable. As dismal and pitiful as he looked, he somehow also had an inner resolve such as I have never seen in anyone, ever. I hesitate to say it, but he was almost . . . regal.
How would you like to be forced into deciding the fate of a man such as that? There is no question that he was guilty of the crimes of which he was accused, but nonetheless, how would you like to have to sit in judgment in such a pitiful and pathetic case? As long as I live, I shall never forget the look on Yeshua's face when he was being led away. He looked not at any of us, nor at the Roman soldiers. He was looking -- I don't know -- away somewhere.
It is now mid-afternoon. Eighteen hours ago the Sanhedrin pronounced its inevitable and necessary sentence of guilt, Yeshua was then delivered to Pontius Pilatus, a little over six hours he was nailed to the cross, and word has just reached me that a few minutes ago he died. For his sake I am relieved. Some criminals have been known to hang on their crosses for days, even for weeks.
Whatever else you might think of me, I want you to know that I did what I did for what I thought were good and valid reasons. I wanted, first of all, to protect the temple, and Yeshua, along with other Pharisees, has made light of the temple and its priests. I wanted to placate the Romans. I wanted to protect the nation. Most of all, I wanted to protect God and His honor. If the Mesheach of God should be anything like Yeshua ha-Notzri, then God help us! In times of extremity, extreme actions must be taken!
But you know, all day long I have been plagued by a question. This morning it began pestering me, and then it battered me, and by now it absolutely gnaws at the innermost core of my spirit. I cannot get this question out of my mind. I have had to be so strong so many times in so many exasperating situations. But I, who have always been so certain about so many things, am now found to be asking myself: What if I was . . . wrong?
(Editorial Note: Joseph Caiaphas continued as high priest until the year 36 of the Common Era [CE], at which time he was removed from office. After the death and resurrection of Jesus, he presided at the trials of the apostles Peter and John [Acts 4:6].)