The Sanhedrin, the Council, the 'them' of the story. All fine and dandy, allowing us to vilify that which is 'other' but many of us are, or have been members of a Council at some point in our lives - The PCC, The Kirk Session, The Diaconate, The Eldership, The Church Council, The Property Team, The Mission Strategy Group, The [insert name]...? Ever notice they all take the definite article and many capitalise it; interesting. Anyway, today's character is a fictional, unnamed member of the Council. Again no exegetical basis and no real idea of how the Council worked.
To be part of it - the Council - wow! Me? I had long wondered what went on in those meetings, had revered the men with their long beards and measured tones. Now I was part of it. It was exciting and nerve-wracking. A privilege for sure, a responsibility undoubtedly, but an opportunity. I was, relatively speaking, young. And I noticed how when I spoke people would smile knowingly and shake their heads in a slightly dismissive way that said, 'we were once young too; you'll learn.' There was so much the Council could influence, could make better, more vibrant, more Godly... but meetings seemed dry and turgid as often as not. The biggest concern seemed to be keeping the peace with Rome, every now and then some upstart looked like causing trouble and he would be quietly - or not so quietly - dealt with.
They are good people on the Council, men who have helped me to settle in, to learn how things work. They are not all the same, opinions vary and a few speak out against the status quo. I have found two good friends here - in a Council of 70 (71) it takes time to get to know people. Nic[odemus] is a worrier, often doesn't sleep at nights, so he tells me. He worries and wonders about getting right, turns over ideas in his mind. He's been known to go out under cover of darkness to talk with northern rabbis about philosophical ideas. He's a good man, a thinking man, and a friend to me. And Joe [Joseph of Arimathea]: never says much, just seems to listen intently and weigh up what is said. A kindly man with deep, gentle eyes and a soft voice. A friend who looks out for me, a mentor if you like, someone who stands with me as I learn the ropes of this responsible, confusing, powerful role.
Discussion recently has centred on one of the northern rabbis, one who is gathering an enormous following, and who is attracting too much attention with his talk of a Kingdom. What should be done? Various reports were brought by members who'd been out to see what he was up to - healing on Shabbat, declaring sins forgiven, consorting with women, meeting Roman centurions, touching lepers... the list was endless. Discussion flew back and forth; a decision must be made. It came to a vote - to exterminate him or not, 'better one man die than a nation perish'. So how should I vote? Nic was clear in his mind - no way was he voting for this. Joe quietly joined the 'no' vote.
What should I do? I had waited a long time to be part of this council, I wanted to make a difference, yet I wanted to be accepted. I trusted the judgement of my new found friends but there were more and more people voting 'yes'...
I wonder how it is for us? How much does acceptance and/or recognition outweigh our desire for justice or truth? How easily are we 'processed' by organisations, simply becoming one more proponent of the status quo? How readily do we suppress contradictory opinions or seek to shape others in our image: 'this is the way we do things around here'?
If we are honest, truly honest, would we follow Nic and Joe through the 'no' lobby, or would we, like sheep, trail through the 'yes' door, condemning Jesus to death?