St. John Lutheran Church

If the events of Good Friday happened today, what would be different? For one thing, as Jesus carried the cross up the hill to Calvary, everyone standing on the sidelines would probably have their cellphone up, catching it on film, maybe hoping to create the YouTube video that goes viral. There would be people tweeting a play-by-play – and more people commenting on those tweets. The story would spread far beyond Jerusalem. The bystanders, both present and online, would number in the millions. But would the result be different? Would the mob be galvanized to change?

In fact, this month, we have a tragic example that suggests it would not. In Steubenville, Ohio, two teenage football players were convicted for sexually assaulting a young girl at a series of August parties. The guilty verdict has resolved only some of our questions about the case. And the law seems painfully insufficient in this case. We know no more of the details. In Steubenville, everyone knows pretty much everyone. The football team is the main attraction, and football players the heroes. On the night that the assault happened, the victim was taken to three parties. She was photographed being dragged by her wrists and ankles. She was assaulted while others looked on. The details of the attack were tweeted and videotaped. In that long evening, no one, it seems, used their cell phone to call 9-1-1. No one stopped what was happening. They were all bystanders, who watched on, while a terrible injustice happened.

Human beings, sad to say, tend to fall easily into the bystander role. And Good Friday would count as one of the oldest examples of that collective human shame. The failure to act when we know we should is a bitter secret we carry around – and we all probably know when we have done this. On Good Friday, Jesus was tossed into the hands of the mob by Pontius Pilate, who let it happen, though he knew it to be an injustice. The religious leaders sentenced Jesus to death when they knew he had done nothing but inspire people to question their authority. Then there were the disciples who, when faced with certain death, denied their knowledge of knowing. We must also hold them to account, but what would we have done in their shoes? Perhaps they thought they would find another way to save him. Perhaps Peter was allowing Jesus to follow the path he had laid out for them. In any event, they are, redeemed, partially, in our eyes: It was their work that would carry on the ministry of Jesus.

But it is the mob that should most trouble us. On Palm Sunday they were a crowd celebrating Jesus, welcoming him with palms and cheers. By Good Friday, they were a mob, calling for his death. People who had been swept up with joy were easily made pawns of hate. We could make ourselves feel better by saying: They didn’t really know Jesus. They were just in it for the party. They weren’t educated. And so on…. But history has found bystanders among all kinds of people, rich and poor, educated and not.

A few weeks ago, I read a great book called In the Garden of Beasts. It is the story of the US Ambassador and his family who arrive in Berlin just as Hitler is rising to power. The story is told through the eyes of the ambassador, who is a history professor, and his 20-something daughter who went off to parties with Hitler’s lieutenants. As time goes on, the family begins to realize what is happening. But it takes a while, and they make a lot of excuses for some very terrible behaviour. The random attacks on Jewish citizens are called misunderstandings. It’s assumed that Hitler is too bizarre and radical to hold power and that he won’t last. The intellectuals of Berlin, who know him to be a danger to their country, nonetheless are too afraid to do anything. Instead, they gather at the ambassador’s residence, where they could still speak freely. When one of their members gives a public speech denouncing Hitler’s policies, they cheer – but only as a crowd. As individuals they are silent.

That is the thing about crowds – they can be powerful instruments for good, voices for change, and an end to tyranny. And they can be just as powerful instruments for evil, suppressing the voices of dissent. But a crowd is just a group of individuals, and while we might like to put the blame on the angry mob of Good Friday, in fact, each person standing in their midst made the individual decision to do nothing. We can blame society for making things unfair, and governments for not acting, but in the end, it is the sum of individual choices that shape a community and a nation. In Steubenville, the sum of individual choices – the decision to protect a pair of high school heroes at the expense of another person – ended up with a girl horribly abused – both on the day of the party and for months afterwards, when she continued to be blamed for what had happened. In Berlin, once the wealthiest, most educated segment of society pretended not to see what was happening, it soon got too late to stop the nightmare that we know came next. And on Good Friday, the mob was the weapon as surely as the nails on the cross, to see Jesus crucified. In that crowd, we downplay the power of an individual to bring about change. Because, as history shows, the conflicted bystander looks around and believes that no one else is feeling the same, and so is afraid to act. So they all stand alone, not communicating. The gospel, however, this powerful teaching for which Jesus died, is the antidote to the bystander effect. First of all, it teaches all of us shared values – to look out for one another. It gives us the example of someone who refused to hide in a crowd, who stuck his neck out for all of us.  Who would not be silent when speaking up was the better way?

Good Friday is a dark example of the weakness of humanity, and for that we must all sit in the shadow and wait for the sun to come up. That is the price of this day. We pay it, because it is our reminder of what can happen when a crowd becomes a mob and the mob becomes a tool for hate. This day carries the voice of every victim who suffered while others stood silent. This day holds the darkness of every tyrant who stole the will of a people, when those who knew better refused to speak up.

At a certain point, on this day, the mob went quiet. On the cross, a great man died a horrible death. And aside from the weeping of his last followers, silence filled the air at Golgotha. On Good Friday we learn just how powerful and terrible silence can be.  Amen.