Before Caiaphas

Those who had arrested Jesus led him away to Caiaphas the high priest, where the scribes and the elders had convened. Peter was following him at a distance right to the high priest’s courtyard. He went in and was sitting with the servants to see the outcome.

The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false testimony against Jesus so that they could put him to death, but they could not find any, even though many false witnesses came forward. Finally, two who came forward stated, “This man said, ‘I can destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’”

The high priest stood up and said to him, “Don’t you have an answer to what these men are testifying against you?” But Jesus kept silent. The high priest said to him, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”

“You have said it,” Jesus told him. “But I tell you, in the future you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven.”

Then the high priest tore his robes and said, “He has blasphemed! Why do we still need witnesses? See, now you’ve heard the blasphemy. What is your decision?”

They answered, “He deserves death!” Then they spat in his face and beat him; others slapped him and said, “Prophesy to us, Messiah! Who was it that hit you?” Matthew 26:57-68  (CSB)

I’ve been to Caiaphas’ house, and into the dungeon in which Jesus was likely held. It’s really just a pit hewn out of rock. In Jesus’ day, the prisoner was lowered up and down through a hole in the top of the pit. Currently, there is a stairwell that winds down into it, but even with that my claustrophobia won’t easily allow me to go all the way in, and only then when the exit is clear.

Imprinted into the side of the stone walls are the scratching of prisoners, presumably going crazy and trying to claw their way out of the horrific place after being thrown in, beaten and abandoned. One wonders why a priest, a man of God, would need such a place.

This is where the Passion of God starts to get very real. Fitting, since we’re one week away from Easter. 

I remember as a child hearing the story of Corrie Ten Boom, whose family were Dutch Christians that attempted to hide Jews during the holocaust. They were ultimately captured and sent to a concentration camp, where she writes about the horrific things she both witnessed and experienced, including the death of her father and sister. 

Evil makes us uncomfortable in modern day America. We don’t like the sound of it. We want to pretend it doesn’t exist, and squirrel it away, assuming the best in others and the world. Evil is for somewhere else or some other time. This false sense of security blinds us to the reality that many have faced, and many continue to face. Boom walked away from the concentration camp even more devout. After having seen the direst evil, she was more convinced than ever that God was the only answer. Her famous line is apropos to both environments,

There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.

This is the word we must know when there is little else to trust in. When there is little hope left or all seems hopeless. When there are no obvious material or political solutions, our hope must come from trusting in that. It’s the very hope that bore Jesus through the coming days, beginning with this dark one.

On a lectern, in the pit of this miserable dungeon, there is an old worn psalm that pilgrims read aloud, listening to the echos of their voices hauntingly dancing through the space. Hearing what we believe Jesus might have recited to maintain his own hope, when evil seemed about to win the day. 

Printed here for your reflection: 

88   Domine, Deus

1   O Lord, my God, my Savior, *
by day and night I cry to you.

2   Let my prayer enter into your presence; *
incline your ear to my lamentation.

3   For I am full of trouble; *
my life is at the brink of the grave.

4   I am counted among those who go down to the Pit; *
I have become like one who has no strength;

5   Lost among the dead, *
like the slain who lie in the grave,

 6   Whom you remember no more, *
for they are cut off from your hand.

7   You have laid me in the depths of the Pit, *
in dark places, and in the abyss.

8   Your anger weighs upon me heavily, *
and all your great waves overwhelm me.

9   You have put my friends far from me;
you have made me to be abhorred by them; *
I am in prison and cannot get free.

10 My sight has failed me because of trouble; *
Lord, I have called upon you daily;
I have stretched out my hands to you.

11 Do you work wonders for the dead? *
will those who have died stand up and give you thanks?

12 Will your loving‑kindness be declared in the grave? *
your faithfulness in the land of destruction?

13 Will your wonders be known in the dark? *
or your righteousness in the country where all is forgotten?

14 But as for me, O Lord, I cry to you for help; *
in the morning my prayer comes before you.

15 Lord, why have you rejected me? *
why have you hidden your face from me?

16 Ever since my youth, I have been wretched and at the point of death; *
I have borne your terrors with a troubled mind.

17 Your blazing anger has swept over me; *
your terrors have destroyed me;

18 They surround me all day long like a flood; *
they encompass me on every side.

19 My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me, *
and darkness is my only companion. (Book of Common Prayer 711)