Gathered at the Cross: The Sanhedrin

This is part of our Lenten midweek sermon series that will examine those who were present at the crucifixion of Jesus.

Text: John 11:45-57, Matt. 26:57-68, Matt. 27:33-44

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

            Every group of humans living in a community has some sort of governing body. Whether it’s Congress or Parliament, the Roman Senate or Emperor, kings’ courts, presidents’ administrations, or local library boards, there is always some form of government. So when Israel found itself under the rule of the pagan Roman Empire, it was stuck in a quandary. The laws that had governed Israel for a millennium were drastically different than the laws of the people and republic of Rome. Thus, they needed a compromise.

            As a concession, Rome permitted Israel its own judicial and religious government, up to a point. This council of Jewish leaders was called the Sanhedrin. It would function as the body that would see to Israel’s more unique laws—those pertaining to the Hebrews’ belief in one true God rather than the many gods and goddesses of Rome, and the Law received through Moses on Mount Sinai. The leader of this council would be the high priest, who was Caiaphas at the time of Jesus, who would be the go-between for the Sanhedrin dealing with Israelite laws and the Roman governor, who dealt with Roman law. But in order to make sure that everyone knew who was really in charge, Rome reserved for only itself the authority over matters of life and death. The Sanhedrin could do a lot in Jerusalem and Judea, but they could not sentence anyone to death. That could only be pronounced by a representative of the Roman Empire. Through this, there was always the reminder that the Sanhedrin only served at the will and pleasure of Caesar, and could only do what he permitted them to do.

            The Sanhedrin ruled, but they were always beholden to Rome. This is why Jesus was such a threat to them. Jesus was not one to be overwhelmed or awestricken by the glories of Rome. When He performed His miracles and signs demonstrating that He had a much higher authority backing Him up than even Caesar, this was dangerous. The Sanhedrin recognized that if their masters in Rome caught whiff of it, there would be trouble. “What are we to do?” they asked themselves, “If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our station.” There were temporal, worldly risks associated with Jesus, and the Sanhedrin didn’t want to roll the dice against the empire.

            Of course, there was a greater spiritual risk too. Jesus was performing signs and proving that He was God in the flesh. He did things that only God could do: controlling wind and waves, banishing unclean spirits with only a word, giving sight to those who were born blind, purifying lepers. He even forgave sins—something everyone knew only God could do—and when they questioned whether His forgiveness was real and effective, He proved it with miracles to restore the people He had just forgiven. Jesus was proving that He was God, the eternal Son of God, the Word through whom everything was made, but He wasn’t doing or saying the things that they wanted Him to do and say. God wasn’t behaving. He wasn’t playing by their rules. And sooner or later, everyone would catch on. That would mean that they’d see the vast chasm that was between them and God. If the people were forced to choose sides, they’d choose Jesus over the Sanhedrin and it would be revealed that the highest council of the realm was opposed to God.

            For this reason, the Sanhedrin had to do something. They had to get rid of Jesus. They had to kill Him. So they plotted. They conspired. They bribed and bought one of Jesus’ disciples to betray Him. They captured Him, put Him though a pathetic excuse of a trial, mocked Him for everyone to see and hear. They engineered a way to get rid of Him and to get everyone else to think less of Him in the process.

            This is not a one-time only strategy. It’s always been the way of those who make God their enemy. The ancient pagans mocked those who believed in one God, whether it was the nations that surrounded Israel in the Old Testament, or those who made fun of the earliest Christians for their God who died on a cross. Today the world still mocks those who hold to the truth about God and His Christ. You’ll be hard pressed to find any popular TV show where a Christian character isn’t depicted as a villain or a laughable fool. You’ll find nothing but scorn from those who think that families should worship at the altar of work or soccer practice or any other number of small idols instead of gathering around Jesus for prayer and hearing the Word of God.

            And if we turn that mirror inward on ourselves, we find the same strategies of the Sanhedrin. When we run across those parts of God’s Word that we don’t like, or we don’t understand, or we don’t want to understand, when He doesn’t behave by our rules, we simply ignore it. We lock it away, the way the Sanhedrin locked Jesus away while they determined how they could keep control over their own lives and positions. When we hear a word pronounced from Scripture that makes us upset or uncomfortable, we turn away from it, as the Pharisees and scribes and rulers turned away from the clear signs and words of Jesus showing that they had it wrong. When we hear of a fellow believer who lives and practices their faith in a way that might make us a little embarrassed—either about their intensity or our own lukewarmness—we label them as extremist, or dangerous, or silly, or outdated, or whatever makes us feel more confident about our place and station. That’s an uncomfortable realization to have about ourselves, but if we’re going to be honest, if we’re going to receive everything that Jesus has at the cross for us, we need to see ourselves standing at the foot of His cross in this role too—as the ones who would stand in judgment over Him and His Word; that is, as ones who need forgiveness.

            The point of Lent is repentance. It’s to draw out the poison of the Sanhedrin-like attitudes in our minds and hearts; the expectations that we would place on God. During Lent, Jesus draws all to His cross: faithful disciples, loved ones, and even His enemies. And if we want the fullest picture of ourselves, we have to admit what our Church has admitted from the beginning: we are at the same time fully saints and fully sinners. We are disciples of Christ because of our baptism and faith; and we are the enemies of God in need of reconciliation.

            It’s at Jesus’ cross that the reconciliation we need is found. For what does Jesus say about His enemies who are gathered around His cross, even the Sanhedrin, even us? “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” We might not realize it when we’re making the same mistakes as the Sanhedrin, but we still need forgiveness for it all the same. So Jesus forgives. He forgives them. He forgives you. Even if you’ve been running away from Him, or shutting Him out, or ignoring Him, or finding more important things, or setting your life against Him in any other way, come to His cross. Be forgiven. Become like those in the Sanhedrin who followed Him—Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea—who received what He promised. Be reconciled to God and know that He is for you. In the name of the Jesus, the Crucified One. Amen.