Good Friday homily by Fr. Matthew Rolling
Cathedral of the Risen Christ, Lincoln
April 18, 2025
When it comes to meditating with Scripture and entering more deeply into the Word of God, many Saints in the history of our Church have recommended focusing on particular individuals who are present in the events of the Gospels. By being alongside of them or stepping into their shoes, so to speak, we can get a more direct, personal, and human connection with our Lord. Of late my attention has been drawn to one rather obscure individual who appears in the Passion narratives: Barabbas.
We know two things about him from the testimony of Scripture: he’s a revolutionary and a murderer. That doesn’t seem like a lot to go off of, but it tells us some important things. First, it seems there’s a disregard for the laws of God and of men, and it’s something that has probably characterized much of his life. After all, one doesn’t often do great evils without first doing lots of little evil things.
The depiction of Barabbas from Passion of the Christ seems to fit; he’s seen as someone who is selfish and self-centered. His disordered appearance betrays a disordered life. As one author describes him: “doing wrong is something he does well.” So here’s this man, Barabbas, found standing next to our Lord. Two men are both on trial. Given what we’re told, I cannot imagine that Barabbas would have been present to hear any of the sermons or witness the miracles of our Lord. Given, however, Christ’s high-profile life and the growing drama and tension around Him in the final days and weeks of His earthly life, it’s probably hard not to have heard about this troublesome preacher, who was disrupting the status quo. Now here they are, standing shoulder to shoulder, about to be sentenced!
For one so familiar with the criminal system, Barabbas has to know something’s off here. This isn’t a legitimate trial; there are no witnesses, no evidence, and a judgment caused by peer pressure and shouting. Barabbas knows he’s not innocent, and any reasonable man would likely conclude the preacher from Galilee is innocent, yet this One is getting scourged. It seems Barabbas has to know: I should be the one being beaten; I’m guilty. Barabbas walked away unpunished, brought back as it were from certain death. In exchanging a glance with this Man, beaten almost to death, Who stands as almost one continuous wound from head to toe, Barabbas, I can’t help but think, is roused to compassion. This man took and suffered my punishment. He acted as if He’s guilty and I’m innocent.
As I focus in on Barabbas, suddenly, the reality of it dawns on me with unquestionable clarity: I AM BARABBAS! Maybe I am not a murdered or revolutionary, but my every sin is a revolt against God. In my sins, I am certainly putting my supernatural life and that of others in jeopardy. As I compromise and concede to sin in my life, I give way to more evil, and I am guilty of a multitude of sins. I become more and more selfish, my life more and more disordered. I hear news of Christ, His words, His miracles; I even have the benefit of knowing of His Resurrection. Still I go about my life, living as I want, reinforcing the truth that I’m the guilty one. I know without a doubt that He’s the innocent one, but I get to walk away unpunished as if I’m the innocent one, as if I’ve done nothing.
In that moment, like Barabbas, I look at Him and exchange a glance with Him, thinking, “How can this be?” His glance, however, isn’t what I’d anticipate; I’m not made to feel guilty or blame myself. It’s the same glance which He gave to the rich young man as He loved him, to the woman at the well, to the woman caught in the very act of adultery, and to Peter after Peter had denied Him three times. It’s that look!
It's a look which causes these words of His to penetrate my heart: “No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down on my own.” (Jn 10:18) He’s no unwilling victim; He’s choosing to take my punishment. Somehow He is the one in control and making all these things happen, and He’s choosing to vindicate me so that I won’t suffer punishment.
That glance also brings to my heart His words at the Last Supper: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (Jn 15:13) If this choice of His to take on my punishment is a free choice, then this isn’t just a matter of doing what I cannot: paying a debt I incurred but can’t pay, suffering a punishment I’m not strong enough to endure. He’s laying down His life for me. He wants to be my friend; He wants a relationship with me because for some mysterious reason He loves me and He’s giving everything just to be with me.
