What is there in common between these two men: Barabbas, the criminal condemned to be crucified by the Romans, but then set free by Pontius Pilate in his failed attempt to save Jesus from the cross; and Vladimir Lenin, the man who laid the foundation for the communism that would dominate Russia for decades?
I ask because they happened to come together in my mind a few days ago. I was halfway through a big fat biography of Lenin when a friend sent me an online article about Barabbas. And though the two men are separated by two thousand years, and belong to totally different cultural, political and religious backgrounds, I was struck by a clear similarity.
One word sums it up pretty well: they were both fanatics.
How can you define fanaticism? Roughly, it’s enthusiasm that has got out of control; passion which has ceased to be balanced and reasonable. Go to any football match and it’s right there, in yer face.
Taken to extremes, fanaticism (always bad) is deadly. So it was with Barabbas and Lenin, for we know that both of them were prepared to kill in order to achieve their aims.
Lenin talked openly about using “terror” as a weapon in his political armoury. He subscribed to the famous view that “if you want to make an omelette you’ve got to be prepared to break some eggs” – where the “omelette” was the earthly paradise promised by the teachings of Karl Marx, and the “eggs” were the lives of any poor individuals unfortunate enough to get in their way.
Regarding Barabbas we know very little. But Luke tells us that he “had been thrown into prison for an insurrection in the city, and for murder” (23:19).
Insurrections, or uprisings, against the Romans were common around that time, not least among religious fanatics determined to reclaim Israel as God’s kingdom on earth. Various groups existed, among them the sicarii – “dagger-men” – whose very name tells you how they chose to go about their business.
The article my friend sent me assumed that Barabbas was a “Zealot”, a revolutionary hot-head who believed that Rome could be overcome by sheer military force. The latest expert opinion is that Zealots as a group didn’t in fact come into being for another thirty or so years, but there’s no reason to doubt that people of that way of thinking were around at the time of Jesus’ death, and Barabbas may well have been one. (One of Jesus’ disciples, of course, was known as “Simon the Zealot” – though presumably he left that firebrand attitude behind when he joined Jesus!)
One other detail about Barabbas is given in some, though not all, versions of Matthew 27:17 - that his full name was Jesus Barabbas, “Jesus the son of Abbas” or “the son of the father”. If that is correct, as the best modern translations suggest, we have the fascinating thought that Pilate offered the crowd a choice between two Jesuses: Jesus the son of Abbas, or Jesus the Christ, the Messiah. And we know which Jesus they chose…
Where is this history lesson taking us?
It reminds us that that such fanatical movements, even those which are genuinely sincere, are two-a-penny down through history. They come and they go. They promise so much – and ultimately deliver so little. They become mere “wrecks of time”.
We all know what became of Lenin – or if we don’t we can easily find out. But we are not told what became of Barabbas. A legend grew up quite early in the church that he was so moved by the willingness of the other Jesus to die in his place that he became a follower of that Jesus. That would be wonderful if it were true, and of course it could be.
But perhaps it’s more likely that (if he lived to be an old man) he witnessed the terrible events of AD70, when the Romans destroyed the Jerusalem temple and much of the city with it – and all his dreams went up in smoke and ruins. (Lenin, of course, didn’t live to see the destruction of the Berlin wall.)
Violence can only ever lead to misery, failure and disillusionment. But the truly wonderful thing about “the other Jesus” is that he conquered by dying. Which, of course, is why we Christians can sing “In the cross of Christ I glory”.
The Barabbases and Lenins of history proclaim “Here is a cause worth killing for!” But the quiet voice of Jesus the Anointed One says “Here is a cause worth dying for!” - which is why he calls his followers to “take up your cross and follow me”.
Literally dying for Jesus is unlikely to be asked of us (though it is being asked of many believers in many parts of the world even as I write or as you read these words). But the fact remains… if we call ourselves Christians, then we are called to die with him. Only then can we hope to live with him.
But our hope shines out over the wrecks of time… his kingdom will know no end.
In the cross of Christ I glory,/ Towering o’er the wrecks of time:/ All the light of sacred story/ Gathers round its head sublime. Amen!
John Bowring (1792-1872)
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