26. Chapter 26: Christ’s Blood Esteemed Less Than That of Abel
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S I X Christ’s Blood Esteemed Less Than That of Abel The governor answered and said unto them,What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ? They all say unto him,Let him be crucified.And the governor said, Why, what evil hath he done? But they cried out the more,saying,Let him be crucified. When Pilate saw that he could prevail nothing,but that rather a tumult was made,he took water,and washed his hands before the multitude, saying,I am innocent of the blood of this just person:see ye to it. Then released he Barabbas unto them.
—Mat 27:21-26 a.
JESUS-BARABBAS and Jesus-Christ—those are the two names which we have seen drawn up and heard proclaimed as constituting a single ballot. The one was a descendant of Cain; the other of Abel. The first of Cain, yes. He is the murderer, the blood-thirsty one, the usurper of the flesh. The other of Abel. He is the seed of the woman. He gives his blood as a ransom. He has been in the deep valley of the martyred.
You can draw the line farther yourself. Whoever puts the names of Cain and Abel on one and the same ballot must conclude by murdering Abel. He robs Abel of the right to exist. Abel may live in the world only if he is the seed of the woman, and consequently brooks no comparison with Cain. Must Christ then not sink below the level of Abel?
Alas, nothing else is possible. His blood must be negated. It is thus that he sinks beneath the plane of Abel. Hence Pilate arises and says: This blood has no voice crying out against me and rising up to heaven. Hence the Jews rise to say: This blood has no voice crying out evil against us. That which Cain did not believe about Abel’s blood—for he still believed that it could cry out to heaven against him—that “Cain” in his generation does not believe about the Greater than Abel. Now, inasmuch as Christ is He who is greater than Abel, He must also become a lesser than he. It was not for nothing that we observed how nadirs are zeniths, and zeniths, nadirs for Him. It is in this connection that the Bible tells us how it came about that Christ’s blood was esteemed less than that of Abel. Mark the account well. In the preceding chapter we listened to the voice of woman. She wanted to touch the heart of her husband and by an appeal to fear wanted to restrain him from a terrible murder. However, the voice of the woman was lost in the howling storm which blew over Pilate’s house and over David’s roofs on the day of Christ’s death. The disaster could not be averted. Who, indeed, can check sin in its coming? It is as irresistible in its descent as is a waterfall.
Accordingly, we can say that Pilate no longer has the rudder in his hand. He has listened to what his wife had to say to him. But he says to himself—official people do occasionally like to say it to themselves—: It is easy for her to talk; but meanwhile I am confronting the difficulty. The clash between his desire to release Christ and his fear of rowing against the stream compels him to reach one of his many desperate solutions.
He goes out to face the crowd again. This time he asks them emphatically which of the two they want. When he finds that their choice invariably favors Barabbas he puts them squarely before the question about what then must happen to Jesus who is also called the Messiah. The fact that he adds the designation Messiah probably was not intended as an insult but as an accentuation of the importance of the case of Jesus, also as evaluated in terms of the logic of the Jews. In effect, Pilate means to say that there must be many a man among the Jews who esteems this person to be greater than a mere human being, who detects something sublime, something issuing from heaven in him. As a judge, Pilate means to say, I must officially reckon with the possibility that there is a hardly insignificant group among your own people who find in this man a kind of satisfaction for their religious longings and a fulfillment of your own Jewish, religious expectations. How else can you account for the fact that the man bears the name Messiah?
Tell me what I must do with Him. Release Barabbas, you say. Yes, that is easily done. But to dispatch the case of this other man, that is more difficult, especially since He seems to be the problem of your own people ... You see that Pilate, by placing the title of Messiah into the foreground, wants to convince the Jews that he is a humane person who truly wants to take cognizance of all factions of the national life. It may be, he suggests, that Jesus’ party is not officially represented on this occasion—at least no one of His disciples is rising to His defense,—but that does not mean that no such party exists. And these are they who see in Jesus of Nazareth a revelation of heavenly forces. Now just what must a man as humane as Pilate is, do? No one can deny that there is such a thing as equitable representation, and that there is such a thing as beneficent neutrality.
However, without any hesitation at all, the whole crowd of people persist in the response: Let Him be crucified.
Some commentators have maintained that Pilate had in mind not only to release Barabbas alone but Jesus also. This Passover festival, then, could have been celebrated as one which marked a double amnesty. Absolute certainty is impossible in this matter. In fact, it is even unlikely that Pilate had a carefully rounded plan in mind. As for the Jews, however, these know very well into what direction they wish to steer. They want the cross for Jesus. The demand that Jesus be crucified need not, as some believe, be regarded as an attempt on the part of the crowed to prevent Pilate from saying that they had better put him to death by stoning in the usual Jewish manner. The dilemma with which Pilate confronts them is not that of crucifying or stoning but of condemning or setting free. If Jesus was to be condemned to death, death by crucifixion would under the circumstances and after repudiation of Pilate’s own proposal (see page Chapter 15, 296), be the natural method. Now we know that the Jewish leaders of the people had already concluded in private caucus that they would not put Jesus to death according to the Jewish custom of stoning. They, too, reckoned with that rather important element among the people which actually honored Jesus as the Messiah or at least left room for the possibility that he was the Messiah. Accordingly, they influenced the people to demand death by crucifixion. This action was quite in line with the course things were taking. Barabbas, too, was in danger of death on the cross. Were he to be released now, Jesus could suitably take his place. By moving the masses into this direction therefore, these leaders of the people carried out the tactics they had agreed to pursue somewhat earlier (page 293). And the people, without understanding everything involved in the matter, put themselves in the service of the leaders.
However, even though the people did not consciously place the possibility of stoning over against that of crucifying, they did emphatically demand that death on the cross be appointed for Jesus. And that is the new element which this event introduces into the gospel of the passion. What was the nature of this new element, you ask? As we see it, it is this: The affair of Christ is now made the affair of the whole people.
Yes, in a sense it had been that all the while. The Sanhedrin up to this time had been dealing in a way which was quite compatible with the sense of this blinded people. But now there is an external demonstration of the fact that the masses are agreeing with the intent of the Sanhedrin. “They all say unto Pilate: Let him be crucified.” All is an inclusive word. It refers to the chief priests not only, but to the people also; not only to the Pharisees, but also to the man in the street. Not only to the vengeful enemies, but also to the timid spectators. The fire of hell spreads over the whole crowd, and a mad cry vibrates over the square: He must be sent to the cross.
However, Pilate still attempts by means of a formal question to save the situation. He asks the crowd to state what evil Jesus has done. In other words, the judge wants them to progress from generally protested accusations to a specific and concrete charge. He demands that they name facts, facts which can be officially substantiated. But the question goes unanswered. The voice of this weakling blows away. The leaders fan the flames which are sweeping over the masses into a fiercer conflagration. Hoarse throats give utterance to more violent cries: He must be sent to the cross; this thing has lasted long enough. Then Pilate understood that nothing more could be done with this people. Then he knew that he was occupying a position between this people and his “gods.” It might be that he did not believe them, but—there was that report his wife had just brought him, Now it is most embarrassing to be In a position between gods and people, if each of these parties wants to go in a different direction. Whoever in such a case chooses against the supernatural world and in favor of the natural has to do something to hide his confusion. Accordingly, Pilate has a basin of water brought in, and washes his hands in the presence of the people. This was a symbolic piece of conduct by which he wished to give expression to his guiltlessness in the matter. He is a man who by the pressure of a fate which he cannot circumvent has arrived at an impasse from which he cannot escape. Circumstances compel him to a deed of which he himself cannot approve. In the presence of the people, and looking out upon the open heavens, Pilate officially asks that they take note of his innocence. He cannot do anything about it, he says. Was Pilate, when he made use of this ceremony of washing his hands, following a Roman custom? Some say that he was. Others suggest that he made use of a custom which was well known in Israel. Fortunately, it is not necessary to place these two interpretations over against each other. It is apparent that the Jews understood the meaning of this symbolic conduct. Had that not been the case, Pilate’s gesture in this instance would have been futile. As for the Roman, he too seemed to be familiar with the usage. The ceremony, therefore, must have been in official use outside of the province of the Jews also. Be that as it may, Pilate by employing this ceremony in this moment at this place appropriated a custom which in Israel was actually circumscribed in the law. The several commentators quite correctly point to Deu 21:6-9 in this connection. There the rule is stipulated that the eldest of a city near the place in which a murdered person has been found, in case the murderer is not known and no evidence about who it might be is available, must wash their hands. Thus, by making use of a certain ceremony of sacrifice they can testify over against the Lord and the people that they are innocent of the shed blood. Psa 26:6, seems to make a reference to this ceremony in the words: I will wash mine hands in innocency: so will I compass thine altar, O Lord. And in Psa 73:13, we read: Verily I have cleansed mine heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.
Pilate, therefore, by making this ceremony his own, and by doing so in the presence of the Jewish people thereby wishes to indicate—and the Jews by acting upon this gesture agree to accept the invitation—that he declares himself to be guiltless of the blood of Jesus, that he cannot do anything in the matter, that fate makes his conduct in the case binding for him. This blood, he says, cannot cry out to heaven against him. “Claudia,” he assures his wife, “you need have no fears.” In this way, you see, Pilate, who up to this time has been characterized by weakness rather than by outright duplicity, does sink to the level of making a hypocritical gesture. He is not guiltless in this matter. Think of the many swords and staves which are protecting his head. And, even if he had been compelled to take a stand alone, he may not betray his office as he does.
We must add, meanwhile, that Pilate’s symbolic deed is accompanied by a statement. He speaks to the people, and says: See ye to it. Divesting himself of the responsibility, he places the burden of it upon the shoulders of the Jews. In this connection we are compelled to recall what was said in Mat 27:4. When Judas no longer wished to be responsible for the shedding of Jesus’ blood, and when he returned the traitor’s fee to the chief priests, these stated: See thou to that. These same chief priests now hear that very statement addressed to them by Pilate. Thus does the one party transfer the responsibility in the case to the other. But the case cannot be left in its present condition. Accordingly, we notice that the crowd crosses the bridge. We have observed, to employ another figure, that this people very often cuts those knots into pieces which it cannot succeed in untying. It accepts the burden of responsibility. It is always very easy for a crowd to do that. A crowd is a mere aggregation, a mere gathering together of anonymous entities. It has hit upon the pragmatic fiction of divided responsibility for evil, and attempts to make use of that means to avoid personal responsibility. The crowd, therefore, can easily and does frequently, say: We, we! We will see to it! In this instance, too, the crowd arrogantly shouts: “His blood be upon us and upon our children” This passionate cry has a threefold implication, Inasmuch as the judge himself is concerned, it represents a taking over on the part of the people of Pilate’s symbolic gesture. It represents a taking over of that gesture inasmuch as the Jews are concerned also. Finally, it represents, in both instances, a denial of the entire Christ as He is in reality as well as He is in idea.
We can say this about the first implication. Pilate washed his hands in innocence. Israel accepts that implication. Israel itself has coerced that judge to surrender the Nazarene into its hands. Therefore Israel regards Pilate as one who is exempt from any penalty accruing from the other world.
We noticed in the second place, that the Jews also take Pilate’s gesture upon themselves. They, too, say of themselves: We are guiltless; this blood will not cry out against us in the other world. Now it is not surprising that the Jews announce their guiltlessness in another form from that in which Pilate announced his. They have a deeply seated theological instinct. Their theology teaches them that, generally speaking, all blood has a voice. Such blood makes itself heard whenever it is shed at the cost of justice and reason. As a matter of fact, that ceremony of the washing of hands as it is circumscribed in Deuteronomy 21 proceeds upon the assumption that the voice of innocently shed blood can never be stilled in the world. Blood is forever crying out. Just as the first blood which was shed in the world, just as the blood of Abel cried aloud to heaven and could not be still, so all blood has a voice which calls aloud and which cannot be quieted. In the language of Job, such blood has “no place” (Job 16:18). The voice which demands acknowledgment of the rights of a hearing before the law is inherent in the blood.[1] Hence it is that all human blood demands acknowledgment and that such blood cannot rest when once it has been poured out. Its restlessness is so strong, and its voice so penetrating, that even those who have no share in shedding it cannot escape from its call. Think again of the eldest of the city to whom we alluded a moment ago.
Christ is also the King. His kingship is in idea also being denied by all of His people. A good king elicits respect, a bad king causes confusion upon the earth. Corruptio optimi pessima: a king even if he is guilty of death, nevertheless serves as an awful sign. Who is it that would dare to sentence him in a slovenly fashion? But Israel in its litigation against its king is guilty of pronounced slovenliness; the marshalling of evidence is fragmentary; the case is full of holes. It does not even take the trouble to give a definite answer to the question as to just what evil He has done, and calls His death a bagatelle. Thus is Christ’s kingship being negated in its idea. When David’s despotism over the people called the judgment of pestilence down upon it, he still remained the king. He was still great. But the great Son. of David amounts to nothing. His people simply does believe that pestilence will break out because of anything which is, or is not, done to the Nazarene.
“For three things the earth is disquieted, and for four which it cannot bear,”—but this man certainly is not the fifth of these!
Finally, as a Priest, too, Christ is being negated by His persecutors, and is being ignored even in terms of the very idea of the priestship. They acknowledge that there is a relationship between themselves and their children and they go on to say that if the blood of the Nazarene could conceivably have any after-effect they will gladly have their children suffer for it as well as the fathers here present. That is as far as they go; they can conceive of no other alternative. The only possibility worth reckoning with in their estimation is that the blood might demand satisfaction in the form of vengeance. All this blood could possibly do would be to avenge itself. In this way, then, Israel acknowledges the idea and the law of satisfaction, but it cuts the element of grace out of that satisfaction, even according to its idea. Thus Israel maintains that, generally speaking, there is no atonement without satisfaction. But if the right of this shed blood should ever demand satisfaction, Israel itself wants to provide it, and to achieve atonement by its own merits. In this we see that Israel is opposing its self-righteousness to righteousness by faith, its own strength to the strength of Jesus’ blood. The blood of Israel and of its children is regarded as an effective avenger of the eventual sin. Its own blood is regarded as having expiatory properties. Its position is a perfect negation of Christ’s priestly conflict in the direction of satisfaction and atonement, but His people say: If that blood should come upon us, it would come only to exercise vengeance upon us and upon our children. The very idea of priestly mercy is shoved aside by this conduct. We have alluded to a forgotten chapter. The situation here is worse than that: the very concept, the very idea is forgotten.
Whenever the situation is such, no one can check the course of sin. Only a moment later Barabbas will be released. Then the candidate of the flesh is desired in preference to Him who fully realizes and fulfills the spirit.
Now there are always those writers and speakers who must always be setting off this panorama before the imaginations of their readers and auditors by delimiting it with a circle of crosses. With quivering voices they tell of the crosses on which the Jews were hanged when Jerusalem was devastated. Thus, they add, you see, that the self-accepted curse accrued to them, that His blood came upon them and their children. But is that the note we should strike in closing? True, very true it is that quantities of crosses encircled Jerusalem later, and that the children of these various people were indeed crucified upon them. Yes, yes indeed, the Jew is a roamer, a nomad. But is it fitting for us to delimit the place on which the praetorium rests with the crosses of Jews? And is it proper to enhance the treatment of the curse accepted by the people by means of a vignette dedicated to the rags, and worn out sandals, and the crooked cane of the wandering Jew?
Suppose we give our attention to a better thing. Here is the Christ. He has already been nailed to the cross, He has already been negated according to the idea. Do you know who they are that are assisting in the deed? Do you know who also are calling down His blood upon them and upon their children? Do you know upon whom that blood will come? Those are they who would escape from the implications of the sermon on the mount, those who confuse themselves by inventing the notion of an “insignificant detail,” those who comfort themselves by tracing out an “indifferent thing.” May these all beware, for these all are paying to God: His blood be upon me and upon my children. May these all read the sermon on the mount, and stand in awe of the Prophet, who, in order to maintain His sermon on the mount and to make it fruitful, was willing as a priest to give His life for that purpose. May they understand that Christ’s blood ever is upon the world. It comes—yes, at this point someone again arises to a point of order. I hear him saying: That blood comes upon the world in the form of the crosses of those detestable jews at the destruction of Jerusalem. But we can stay nearer home than that. That blood comes upon the man and woman who may have fainted at the spectacle on Gabbatha, or at least at Golgotha, but who thereupon, in a characteristically human way, negated the Christ as He is even in the idea. Such a person trivializes the Christ. And in making Christ a trifle, he makes God that. He rebels against heaven. In this chapter we called attention briefly (page 497) to that study in our first volume in which we saw Christ in Gethsemane as He was being strengthened by an angel. He had seen the angel there, and He understood that heaven was not regarding His blood as a trifle. In thought He remained far above such minimizations; His blood would disquiet the whole world. God was maintaining the sermon on the mount in reference to its Author. He was a worm. Accordingly someone (Nietzsche) said that He was a mere trifle. He who makes himself a worm must not become angry if someone steps on him. But God addressed Christ and by means of that angel said to Him: Even though Thou art a worm, Thou and Thy shed blood affect the whole world. Thy blood can never be regarded as the blood of an outlaw. The whole law is manifest in every drop of it.
I think of that angel and I say: these people are contradicting him. Now can they ever say to the angel: I have made a mistake, and that is all (Ecc 5:5)? Plainly, they contradict the angel. Who contradicts him? Jerusalem’s future candidates for crucifixion? Man, be still. It is you; it is I.
O Jesus, if Thy blood must ever come upon us, let it come in grace, and—in order that it may be preserved—in vengeance also. We praise Thee, O Lord, because Thy blood is very near. People are silent about the wonders it has wrought. No, we would not pray to have Thy speaking blood diverted from us, but would pray that it come upon us. Cain, be not a fool, do not stumble over the protective symbols and say: I no longer hear Abel’s blood crying aloud; thanks be to God, its voice is silent; it has finally grown dumb. The blood of Abel-Christ still cries aloud. Mark it, Cain. It speaks of justice and of grace. It speaks of the last children to come. It takes a “Christly” vengeance. It avenges itself by giving itself away in love, and by destroying those who cannot bear that love. Listen well, ye lost children of the Jews. No one will be hounded to death by the blood simply because it has been poured out, but only because in the last analysis it was not allowed to come upon thee and upon thy children for their peace.
Mark this, Cain. You received the sign on your forehead, not in order that you might forget the blood of Abel but in order that you might still call down upon you for your salvation the blood which speaks better things than that of Abel. Over against that “greater than Abel” you must definitely decide whether you want to commit the murder again or listen to the voice of the blood calling your peace unto you. The earth drank blood one day and called for vengeance,
And Abel’s blood four thousand years could not erase.
The earth drank blood again and called for vengeance
But Christ’s blood was and still remains: pure grace.[1] [1] From Guido Gezelle.
Listen. He ever lives in order to pray for us. It is thus that His blood comes upon us and our children provided that we do not “lift up” the name of the Lord and the blood of the Lord “unto vanity.”
Christ’s Blood Being Shed by Human Agency the First Time