God gives us Scripture and calls us to read imaginatively, realizing we are all part of God’s story.
Christians seem to be most intentional about this during Holy Week, reading with eyes wide open and straining to hear our own voices with the crowd catcalling, “Crucify him!”
Steve Cothran
But it’s also tempting to see ourselves among the faithful few, those tearful followers of Jesus desperately trying to prevent the miscarriage of justice that would railroad an innocent man out of town to a death he didn’t deserve.
This week, the present is mirroring the past with eerie accuracy as we watch Holy Week unfold right in front of us, if only we have eyes to see.
Don’t believe me? Let’s follow the advice of theologian Karl Barth who famously said: “Take your Bible and take your newspaper, and read both. But interpret newspapers from your Bible.”
Luke 23 tells us after he is arrested, Jesus is accused by the leaders, and then cross-examined by the ruling authorities, Pilate and Herod. Either one could have saved him.
“The present is mirroring the past with eerie accuracy.”
Here’s the story again we know so well from Luke 23. But following Barth’s suggestion, I’ve changed the names of the leading characters so we can interpret newspapers from the Bible.
They said: ”We found this man, Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia, undermining our law and order.”
The court told the high priests and the accompanying crowd, “I find nothing wrong here. He seems harmless enough to me.”
But they were vehement. “He’s stirring up unrest … disturbing the peace everywhere. … He’s a dangerous man, endangering the peace.”
When President Trump heard that, he asked, “So, he’s a Salvadoran?” Realizing he properly came under Bukele’s jurisdiction, he passed the buck to El Salvador’s President Bukele, who just happened to be in Washington for a few days.
Bukele was delighted when Garcia showed up. (Because we were paying him $6 million.)
That day Bukele and Trump became thick as thieves. Always before they had kept their distance.
Then a unanimous Supreme Court called in the high priests, rulers, and the others and said, “You brought this man to me as a disturber of the peace. I examined him in front of all of you and found there was nothing to your charge. And neither did the DOJ lawyer prosecuting the case, for he has sent him back here with a clean bill of health. It’s clear that he’s done nothing wrong, let alone anything deserving death. I’m going to warn him to watch his step and let him go.”
At that, the crowd went wild: “Kill him! Give us Barabbas!” (Barabbas had been thrown in prison for starting a riot in the city and for murder.) The courts still wanted to let Garcia go, and so spoke out again.
“For 2,000 Easters we’ve sworn to ourselves we never again would allow something so blatantly unjust.”
He tried a third time. “But for what crime? I’ve found nothing in him deserving death. I’m going to warn him to watch his step and let him go.”
But they kept at it, a shouting mob. And finally, they shouted him down. Trump caved in and gave them what they wanted.
He released men thrown in prison for rioting and murder and gave them Garcia to do whatever they wanted.
The two most powerful men from their respective countries — either of whom could have acted as Garcia’s Salvador (his Savior) this week — instead stumbled over each other’s excuses like middle schoolers doing a grotesque Abbott and Costello “Who’s on first?” routine.
They could’ve been seen as magnanimous and merciful heroes, returning Garcia with a handshake. Instead, they came off as sad and sadistic, reaching for Pilate’s towel and wash basin, shrugging their impuissant shoulders, and saying, “I wash my hands of this.”
This should be heartbreaking for Christians because for 2,000 Easters we’ve sworn to ourselves we never again would allow something so blatantly unjust.
But too many of us will merely register our feelings with an “angry emoji” on Facebook, shrug at our impotence, and trudge off to the store realizing we still need candy for Sunday’s egg hunt.
At some time in our lives, almost all of us identify with Peter’s impassioned but ultimately hollow claim: “Even if everyone else deserts you, Lord, I never will!”
We can make good on that promise this year. For the Salvador.
Steve Cothran is a native of Greenville, S.C., and holds degrees from Furman University, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and Campbell Divinity School. He has served churches in Florida, North Carolina and Georgia, as well as six years in Kentucky where he and his wife, Nancy, were on the same staff together. He has written curriculum for Smyth & Helwys, CBF and d365, enjoys writing regular columns for the Newnan Times-Herald, and dreams of being the oldest cast member on Saturday Night Live.