Was the real crime that got Jesus into such hot water. Not claiming to be a king.

Pilate was willing to overlook the supposed claim to kingship. It was obvious to him that Jesus was no such threat. To either his seat as governor or to Caesar’s throne as emperor. “King of the Jews” was, technically, a rival title, but a weak one.

On the other hand,”Son of God” was a step too far for Romans who referred to Caesar as “Son of a God.” Monotheism or polytheism didn’t matter. If anything, it could only make the situation more dire. If Caesar’s basis for power was built upon his divinity, then any other claim to divinity was a threat.

If there’s one word John wants ringing in his readers ears throughout his account of Jesus’ arrest it’s this: innocence.

In case the story up to this point has not convinced readers of the perfectly holy and unimpeachable character of Jesus, John puts into the mouth of the Roman governor, no less than four times: “I find no basis for a charge.”

The most powerful man in the region found no legal basis for punishment, but there was a basis. It simply eluded him. It was a religious basis.

The only crown Jesus ever wore was given given to him in mockery. A sham king. A silly excuse for a ruler when compared to the iron strength of Caesar.

Yet they were more right than they knew.

As more than “king of the Jews”— king of the whole world!—Jesus patiently sat through the unjust trial. Endured the undeserved beating. Allowed his enemies to make him into a caricature of his true self.  Wore the sarcastic robe across his shoulders. Accepted hands that struck his face rather than be raised in honor.

It’s better to be a pardoned rebel than a condemned peacemaker.

This is the life story of Barabbas: A violent revolutionary who was spared the wrath of Rome because he was granted the freedom deserved by a peaceful rabbi. The obviously guilty was made to trade places with the obviously innocent.

It feels no compulsion to win. To subdue enemies. To exercise force over others. To come out a winner by any means necessary.

This was the motivation behind Jesus commanding Peter to put away his sword, and then healing the man’s ear that Peter had cut off. It was more than mere compassion for the wounded, more than mere pacifism.

Came from somewhere. From someone.

This is basic epistemology: None of us knows anything apart from someone else teaching us something. Even the most novel scientific discovery is reached on the shoulders of other novel scientific discoveries.

Faith is no different.

Until long after the fact. Hindsight is 20/20, as the saying goes. Not always, but sometimes a meaningless detail in the past suddenly becomes clear in the present.

That interim period, however, can be uncomfortable. Confusing. Downright dark.

As we read the stories of Jesus as they are written, we are often immediately handed insights. “This took place to fulfill…” Details are spelled out as significant. Meaningful. Purposeful.

Yet it wasn’t exactly like that for those who lived and wrote it.

One thing that modern science is teaching us, across many branches, is the value of holistic health. All aspects of the human body are interconnected in countless subtle and obvious ways—brain, gut, nervous system, muscles, hair, bones—all of it. When one part suffers, other parts suffer as well. When one part is healthy, other parts benefit.

When there is a problem in one part of the body, rarely is it helpful to address the needs of that one part of the body. Attention and care must often be given to multiple other parts of our body in order to encourage healing.

Telling the truth was already not an option for Peter as he continued to warm himself by the fire in the High Priest’s courtyard. A servant girl had already recognized him, and asked if he was a disciple of Jesus as well. In his fear, he lied. And now, around the fire, surrounded by strangers employed by the enemy who had just arrested his master, Peter had to keep up the pretense through two more inquiries.

The three denials Jesus had predicted.

This story has brought Peter a lot of grief over the years. Many a preacher has levied this scene as a means of shaming the flock into not being ashamed to admit to being a follower of Jesus. Fair enough. Many “heroes” in the Bible are certainly not heroes. We can learn from their mistakes just as much as their successes. But this story is much richer than the flat picture of Peter as an unfaithful, fearful liar.

Can get you slapped. Just ask Jesus. Especially towards the end of his life, telling the truth to those putting him on trial only served to seal his fate..

However, getting yourself into trouble is not necessarily a stamp of approval on the “truth” you spoke. Riling someone up doesn’t mean you were right. We can be easily misled into thinking of ourselves as martyrs when really we should have been mimes—silent.