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Silence

Andrew Fehr

“Then the high priest stood up and said to Jesus, ‘Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?’ But Jesus remained silent” (Matthew 26:62-63).


Silence.

We wait for Jesus to answer His accusers. He’s done it before. Many times they have tried to trap Him in His words or corner Him with a question, but each time they have failed. Each time He has embarrassed them with His answers. His accusers have been the ones trapped and left with nothing to say. He can do it again. But this time He is silent.

The next morning, the same scene is replayed before both Pilate and Herod. They plead for answers, but He gives none. They ply Him with questions, but He makes no response. They wait for a defence, but, to the amazement of Pilate and the frustration of Herod, Jesus is silent.

Throughout the entire hearing, Jesus gives only one answer. To the mountain of false testimony and accusations brought against Him, He has but one response. He says it to the high priest when he demands, “Tell us if you are the Son of God.” He repeats it again to Pilate when he asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” “Yes I am,” is Jesus’ simple reply to both questions.

Why does He say that? Why are these the only questions He answers? Throughout His whole interrogation, why does He keep silent to every enquiry but these? Why? Because He knows that this is the answer that will get Him killed.

To the Jews, Jesus’ answer is blasphemy. To announce that you are the Son of God is the greatest of all sins. The only fitting punishment is death. Anyone who claims to be God deserves to die. And to stand before the highest ranking official in the land and claim to be a king is no small crime. The Romans have little appetite for threats to national security. No one in his right mind would dare to answer the way Jesus does unless he has some sort of a death wish.

Exactly. Jesus is pronouncing a death sentence upon Himself, and He knows it.

The night before in the garden, He pleaded, Father, if there is any other way, any way at all, that I can escape this torment, then let this cup pass from Me. But if not, if this is the only way, then may not My will but Yours be done. If I must die, then let it be so.

There is no other way. He has come to the earth for this moment. He has come to die. All of the blood spilled on all of the altars in all of time has been a foreshadowing of this. All of the sacrifices have pointed ahead to this one sacrifice that will now wash away our sins. So Jesus goes to the cross.

But He isn’t driven there. He isn’t forced to go to the cross. Yes, the religious authorities want Him dead, but they are not the ones calling the shots. They are not the ones who are in control. They are not leading Him to Golgotha – He is leading them. Jesus is doing much more than simply subjecting Himself to the cruel and hateful will of those who despise Him. He is directing every detail and controlling every circumstance so that in the end they will have no choice but to nail Him to the cross.

Before the Passover celebration began, Jesus told His disciples. “We’re going up to Jerusalem.” They were quick to remind Him that He would be walking right into the hands of those who wanted to see Him dead. But Mark tells us that, as they left for Jerusalem, Jesus was “leading the way” (Mark 10:32). Those who followed were both astonished and afraid, but Jesus led the way.

Upon arriving in the city, Jesus went straight to the business of provoking the religious establishment. Driving the moneychangers and businessmen from the Temple was certain to generate a reaction. If that was not enough, all week He preached openly, and contentiously, in the Temple courts.

When He is arrested, He offers no resistance. “Put your sword away,” He says to Peter. When He is brought to trial and accused of crimes punishable by death, He says nothing – nothing, that is, except those few words that will ensure He will receive the maximum penalty. Pilate wants to release Him, and Herod wants nothing more than to be entertained by Him. The slightest hint of a defence will assure His deliverance. But the deliverance Jesus has come for is not His own. He is silent.

They flog Him, mock Him, beat Him and spit in His face. They show no mercy, nor does He ask for any. At any time, Jesus can strike back. If He did, they would never know what hit them. Legions of angels would be there so fast that they would never see them coming. But Jesus takes all the abuse they can give. He endures it all because He must get to the cross.

As the heavy beam is placed across His shoulders, He struggles to His feet and carries it as far as He possibly can. With every ounce of strength left in Him, He staggers forward, painfully, deliberately putting one foot in front of the other. They are going to kill Him anyway. Why humour them in the process? Why take even one step towards the hill where He will be executed? Why not drop right there and let someone else carry the cross? But this is what He has come for. So He bears His cross to the final limit that His strength and His will will allow.

At the top of the hill, He is thrown down on top of the cross. Nails are positioned on His hands and His feet, and flesh and bones are smashed into the wood. Blood from His wounds drips to the dusty soil beneath Him, where the soldiers gamble for His only worldly possession.

It is the apex of human suffering and Divine torment. Words can, to some degree, define the pain of a broken body, but no words can interpret the anguish in the heart of God. He has created humanity to love Him and worship Him. But here is humanity, filled with hatred and jealousy, killing Him. It is an outrage. But not once does He offer the slightest resistance. Not once does He protest or complain.

“If you’re really the Son of God,” they taunt, “then prove it! Come down from there.” He can. The sky can open and tens of thousands of angels will come to His aid. He is their Commander, and they attend His every wish.

But why would He? How could He? He has arrived! It hasn’t been easy. There have been many obstacles along the way, but He has made it to the place He wants to be.

That place is not a throne. It isn’t a comfortable castle or a quiet resting place in the mountains. It is a rough wooden cross – with nails driven through His hands and feet, a crown of thorns pressed into His brow, a sign written mockingly above His head, travellers jeering as they walk past, His back whipped raw and His blood dripping down onto the earth where He has lived with human beings, as a human being.

He is where He wants to be! He is on the cross! Heaven is silent. Hallelujah!

Andrew Fehr is pastor of Carrot River (Sask.) Gospel Mission.

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Last modified March 30, 2001.

© 2001 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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