When they saw him, the leading priests and Temple guards began shouting, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
“Take him yourselves and crucify him,” Pilate said. “I find him not guilty.”
The Jewish leaders replied, “By our law he ought to die because he called himself the Son of God.” (John 19:6-7)

Read: 2 Corinthians 2:5 – 6:13

Relate: The stage is set for a pseudo trial. It is a kangaroo court being put on by those who are eager to do murder. They have already in their hearts determined that the defendant is guilty and they just want to get on with it. Let’s step into the scene…

Peasant: We’ve found a witch. may we burn her?
Sir Vladimir: How do you know she’s a witch?
Peasant: She looks like one.
Sir Vladimir: Bring her forward.
Accused: I’m not a witch! I’m not a witch!
Sir Vladimir: But you’re dressed like one.
Accused: They dressed me up like this.
Crowd: No! no we didn’t.
Accused: And this isn’t my nose. It’s a false one.
Sir Vladimir: Well?
Peasant: Well, we did sew the nose.
Sir Vladimir: The nose?
Peasant: And the hat… but she’s a witch!
Crowd: Burn her! Burn her!
Sir Vladimir: Did you dress her up like this?
Peasant: No… yes… a bit… but she’s got a wart!
Sir Vladimir: What makes you think she’s a witch?
Second Peasant: She turned me into a newt.
Sir Vladimir: A newt?
Second Peasant: I got better.
Crowd: Burn her anyway! Burn her! Burn her!
Sir Vladimir: There are ways of telling whether she’s a witch.
Peasant: Are there? Well, tell us!
Sir Vladimir: Tell me, what do you do with witches?
Crowd: Burn them up! Burn! Burn! Burn!
Sir Vladimir: What do you burn apart from witches?
Peasant: More witches!
Second peasant: Wood!
Sir Vladimir: So, why do witches burn?
Second Peasant: Because they’re made of… wood?
Sir Vladimir: Gooooood. So, how do we tell if she’s made of wood?
Peasant: Build a bridge out of her!
Sir Vladimir: Ahhh. But can you not also make bridges out of stone?
Peasant: Oh yeah…
Sir Vladimir: Does wood sink in water?
Peasant: No.
Second peasant: No. It floats.
Peasant: Let’s throw her into the bog!
Sir Vladimir: What also floats in water?
Peasant: Bread
Second Peasant: Apples.
Peasant: Very small rocks.
Second Peasant: Cider
Peasant: Grape gravy.
Second Peasant: Cherries
Peasant: Mud.
King Arthur: A duck.
Sir Vladimir: Exactly! So logically…
Peasant: If she weighs the same as a duck… she’s made of wood?
Sir Vladimir: And therefore…
Peasant: She’s a witch!
Sir Vladimir: We shall use my largest of scales.

Oddly enough, according to Sir Vladimir’s scales the poor lady weighs the same as a duck and the crowd gets to burn her after all.

React: In a sad way, the logic for what is going on in Jesus trial seems to follow a twisted, convoluted reasoning worthy of any Monty Python movie. It’s like…

(The high priest brings Jesus to Pilate to be killed)
Pilate: What’s the charge?
Priests: He’s a bad man.
Pilate: Then judge him.
Priests: We want to kill him.
Crowd: Crucify him! Crucify him!
Pilate: (To Jesus) Are you a king?
Jesus: Who asks?
Pilate: Am I a Jew? Why do they want to kill you?
Jesus: My kingdom isn’t of this world.
Pilate: So you are a king.
Jesus: I am truth.
Pilate: What is truth? (He goes back out to the crowd) I find him innocent. Do you want me to release him or this bad, evil murderer?
Crowd: Crucify him! Release Barabbas! Crucify Jesus!
(Pilate has Jesus whipped bloody and senseless. To the crowd…)
Pilate: There. Is that good enough?
Crowd: Crucify him! Crucify him!
Pilate: Why? He’s innocent.
Priests: He called himself the Son of God.
Crowd: Crucify him! Crucify him!

What was the logic here. If He is the Son of God, well, then He can’t be killed. If He isn’t the Son of God, then He was a blasphemer and He should die. Case closed. Let’s try and kill him. If He dies, then He isn’t God. How twisted is that? What they weren’t expecting was that, even though He was the Son of God, He would die. Of course, like the peasant turned into a newt… He got better.

Respond: 

God, I am so grateful that You are so much greater. The logic, the foolishness behind what happened in Your trial is just so mind boggling. When I step back and look at it objectively, I just have to shake my head. It is as tragically dumb as the Monty Python trial. Even more, it is as dumb as… as my sin. Though I know so much better, I continue to do such dumb, stupid things in rebellion against You. Just as You rose in victory over Your trial, Your death, the grave, and the weight of our sin, give me the victory above those things, that twisted logic, that keeps me from You.