So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified (Mark 15:15).

Four little words and yet what power they have for our faith lives.  In these four words we are invited to put ourselves into two sets of shoes and find ourselves quite uncomfortable in both.

First we step into Jesus’ shoes:  “suffered under.”  Jesus suffered.  God incarnate suffered at the hands of a mere human being.  We’re not talking about suffering a headache or upset stomach.  We’re talking about suffering that qualifies as torture, suffering that ended in death.  God knows what it is to suffer. 

Perhaps the most troubling question within all faith traditions is this:  Why does God allow us to suffer?  If God is all-powerful, why does God not use that power to end suffering, to protect us from harm and illness?  The Scriptures struggle with this question (consider the books of Job and Lamentations), but they never offer a definitive answer.  Suffering is simply a part of life that must be borne.  The question, then, becomes:  How do we bear the suffering that comes our way?  Jesus teaches us that we can bear suffering with confidence and strength through our trust in God.

I divide suffering into three categories.  The first is suffering brought about by our own actions, i.e., our sinful behavior.  We do things to ourselves that lead to physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering.  No matter how hard we try to deflect the blame, we know deep down inside (to quote Jimmy Buffet), “It’s my own *#@! fault.”  Second is the suffering we experience because of the actions of others.  Once again human sin is the root cause, but this time we become the innocent victim of someone else.  The third type of suffering is that which we willingly take on for the sake of others.  A mother-to-be goes into painful labor so that a child may have life.  A soldier goes to war so that others may experience freedom.  Someone goes through dangerous surgery to provide a kidney for someone else, perhaps even a total stranger.

You could say that Jesus suffered all three forms.  It was his own actions (though not sinful ones) that led to his suffering.  He could have walked away at any time to live in obscurity.  He was handed over by a trusted companion and so suffered due to Judas’s actions.  Most amazing, however, is that he went through it all willingly for the sake of all creation.  In the end, it was Jesus’ suffering that led to our redemption.  Through Jesus, then, all suffering has been redeemed.  Paul put it this way:  “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

We all suffer, but in Christ our suffering is never in vain.  We may never know what good God brings out of our suffering, but we can trust that God can use even our suffering for good.  Paul goes so far as to say that it is in our suffering that we are bonded to God with Christ:  “When we cry ‘Abba!  Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him” (Romans 8:15b-17).

This, however, does not mean that God wants us to suffer, only that God honors our suffering.  Lochman explains this more clearly than I can.

 

This is what is really at stake in the creedal term ‘suffered’—not a fetishism of evil and suffering, not a passive reconciliation with evil, but literally the “com-passion” [“suffering with”] of Jesus Christ, his suffering and sharing and struggling in solidarity with us…. God himself suffers in the suffering of his creatures…. This compassion of God really means the end of all masochism.  It means the end, too, of all impassivity, all indifference to suffering, and especially all indifference to the people it strikes.”

In a world where the presence of suffering is a given, even if we don’t know why, our own suffering is redeemed when it enables us to reach out in love and compassion with others who suffer.  It is what God did for us, and so it is what we are called to do for one another.

While it may be uncomfortable to step into Jesus’ shoes, at least it is spiritually satisfying.  The Creed does not allow us to enjoy this high ground for long.  Rather, it drags us immediately into the shoes of Pontius Pilate.  It seems odd that this man should find a place of honor, so to speak, within one of our faith’s most cherished rituals, and yet the Creed, even the faith itself, would not be the same without him.  Pilate reminds us that what happened to Jesus happened in the midst of human history.  He reminds us, especially, of what we wish not to be reminded of:  the depth of human perversity and cruelty.  He reminds us of what each of us, no matter how highly we think of ourselves, is capable of.

  Pilate was a man with power and authority.  The Bible tells us that all such power and authority is given by God.  When Pilate asked Jesus if he, Jesus, did not understand that Pilate held the power of life and death over him, Jesus responded, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above” (John 19:11a).  Pilate, however, had made the choice to abuse his power.  He was notorious throughout the land for his cruelty.  When we are put in positions of power and authority, how often do we choose to abuse those responsibilities for our own benefit?

Pilate was also a man stuck in the middle.  He was responsible for law and order in a very volatile place.  His own neck was on the line if he displeased Caesar.  He lived in the midst of people who despised him, feared him, and yet needed him.  It couldn’t have been a peaceful life.  When push came to shove, then, he was forced to choose between two evils.  He could choose justice by releasing a man he knew to be innocent, but the Jews threatened to accuse him before Caesar of allowing a “traitor” to live.  Or he could sentence this innocent man to death, thus staining his own soul but appeasing those who could destroy him.  How often have we chosen personal security and expediency over truth and righteousness?

Finally, Pilate stands as the ultimate example of our tendency to deny the teachings of Jesus Christ.  Peter denied knowing Jesus, but Pilate denied the truth that was Jesus.  In truth, we tend to be more like Pilate than Peter.  Chittister wrote,

 

Pilate is the part of my own heart that cannot make a decision, cannot stand against the crowds, cannot pursue truth above personal exigency.  Pilate is the part of us that does not stand up for good, that fails to see human decency in the drifters, the condemned, the underside of our worlds.  The Pilate in each of us puts to the test all the ideals we mouth everywhere else in the Creed.  There is no doubt in my mind.  For me, at least, Pilate stands in the Creed as stark proof that Jesus is not really safe with me.  Not yet.

 

 “Suffered under Pontius Pilate.”  Each of us finds ourselves at various times in our lives in one of these two sets of shoes.  The good news that the Creed reminds us of is this:  no matter which pair we find ourselves in, we know that God is with us and continues to invite us into a closer walk with Christ.  God walks with us through our suffering and redeems it by using it for good.  God also walks with us when we struggle with our human fallibility and continues to offer us opportunities to step out of Pilate’s shoes once and for all.  Wherever you are, God is with you.

 

Sources Used

• Lochman, Jan Milic.  The Faith We Confess ( Philadelphia:  Fortress Press), 1984.
• Howell, James C.  The Life We Claim: The Apostles’ Creed for Preaching, Teaching, and Worship ( Nashville:  Abingdon Press), 2005.
• Chittister, Joan.  In Search of Belief, revised edition ( Liguori, Missouri:  Liguori/Triumph Publications), 2006.

Joyce C. Day
Minister of Adult Discipleship

 

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