A Decision Made in Moments

“We remember moments.”

Several years ago a friend mentioned this to me in a conversation about parenting. He had said that so often parents tend to focus most on the big things we do for our kids when it’s actually the little things that stick in our memories. 

The big things do matter — they’re not unimportant — but it’s the presence and words of a parent in the margins of the big things that have the lasting impact. 

Which means, for example, it’s not a “Vacation at the Beach” that shapes children, but it’s walking on the beach with flashlights late at night looking for ghost crabs, and then it’s telling your son that he’s brave after he picks a crab up with his bare hands to his siblings’ amazement (and yours). That is what we remember. Moments. 

And as with our memory, the same goes for our imagination, when our imagination is at its best. 

It’s impossible for us to see the unseeable in broad terms because that’s never how we experience reality. Our only contact with reality — with other people in this world (and really with anything in this world) — always comes with details in space and time … what we call moments. 

So it’s moments that the Evangelist Matthew describes for us in Matthew 27. Moments that have been remembered. Moments that are for our imagination. 

… like the moment Jesus said, for the third time: “You have said so.”  

* * *

Matthew 27:11 — “You have said so.”

Earlier, on this this night, during the Last Supper, Jesus told the disciples that one of them would betray him, and they were all sad about that and wondered if he was talking about them. But then Judas said to Jesus, “Is it I, Rabbi?” 

And Jesus said to Judas, “You have said so.”

Then again, when Jesus was before the Jewish council, the high priest, Caiaphas, burning with rage, said to Jesus, “I adjure you by the living God, tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God.” 

And Jesus said to Caiphas, “You have said so.”

And then, again …

Pilate, the governor, had asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” — which was more a report than a question — Pilate, ironically, was answering what Jesus had asked his disciples in Chapter 16: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” 

Well, people say you’re the King of Jews, are you? Pilate spoke to Jesus. 

“You have said so” Jesus spoke back to Pilate. 

These are the only words that Jesus spoke now as he refused to vindicate his identity but yielded that action to God the Father — 

as Jesus humbled himself

obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.  

He only confirmed the truth that had been spoken of him. He said nothing more. No explanation, no elaboration. 

Yes, Pilate, he was the King of the Jews — he is the promised King in the line of David. He is Israel’s Messiah — the Messiah of whom the Hebrew prophets had said would be the hope of all the ends of the earth! 

King of the Jews, yes, and King of the universe to whom every knee would bow and every tongue confess!

And all he said was “You have said so.”  

And that was the last thing he said. 

The Evangelist Matthew makes this clear in Chapter 27, because when the chief priests and elders laid into Jesus with their accusations — accusations that he was no king of any kind but only an imposter and a blasphemer — when they vehemently accused him in the presence of Pilate, Jesus gave no answer. 

He “opened not his mouth” … “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth” — Isaiah 53:7. 

Matthew wants us to know that Jesus is the Suffering Servant Isaiah foretold. Jesus had indeed taken the form of a servant … serving in his silence. And the Jewish leaders missed it. Pilate however was intrigued.

* * *

More than a few accused men had stood in front of Pilate where Jesus now stood, and even the guiltiest of those men took this invitation to voice their justification. Any man would have said something. 

“Do you not hear how many things they testify against you?” Pilate said, which was another non-question question … because Pilate was mainly reacting in his disbelief. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the King of the Jews said nothing. He knew that Jesus could hear. He wanted to know why Jesus would not speak.

Matthew tells us that Jesus gave him no answer, “not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed” (27:14). 

Pilate, amazed by Jesus. 

It was a moment — an out. 

Pilate, you’ve never seen anyone like this man. 

Pilate, do right by him.

But Pilate said to a gathered crowd, “Whom do you want me to release for you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?” He asked the crowd because he saw right through the chief priests and elders. They envied Jesus. Pilate knew it. That’s why they had arrested Jesus and brought him in. Pilate had already figured out what he’d soon say, that Jesus was innocent.

So this was a moment when he spoke to the crowd — it was an out. 

Pilate, this whole thing is a sham and you can see that. 

Pilate, do right by him.

And besides this, while Pilate was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him. She said: “Pilate, have nothing to do with that righteous man, for I have suffered much because of him today in a dream.” This was a warning. As Pilate’s own wisdom was waning, perhaps the wise words of a wife would steer him well. 

Another moment. Another out. 

Pilate, this man IS different. 

Pilate, do right by him.

But by then the crowd had started to stir. Enticed by the Jewish leaders, they chose Barabbas to go free, not Jesus. 

“Then what I shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” … Pilate again with his questions.

“Let him be crucified!”, they shouted. And Pilate wondered why, but they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!” This crowd had become a mob that demanded blood.

Amazed by Jesus. 

Convinced of the innocence of Jesus. 

Warned about Jesus.

Three moments. Three ways out. … Another failure in threes.

And wherever the gospel since has spread

“Under Pontius Pilate” all have said

Jesus was crucified. 

A decision made in moments. 

* * *

What would you have done? 

We can read this story and with our imaginations we can see it unfolding in slow motion. We can say, Pilate, do right by him, but would we?

Do we now?

Do we now do right by Jesus … in moments?

It is one thing to follow Jesus in the big things … in themes … in theory — but do we want him in our moments? 

Do we choose him in our details? 

Do we stand close to him when it costs?

“Then all the disciples left him and fled,” Matthew tells us. And we can see ourselves among them. The fleers and hiders, the deniers and doubters. The busy and distracted. 

We see ourselves there first, in moments like these, and in moments of our own — we are desperate sinners. Only then can we hear the invitation to come. 

So we join Jesus tonight at his table as those who would have scattered, as those who are kept in this moment and forever only by his grace.

So, we pray [Herzliebster Jesu, Johann Heermann (1630)]:

Ah, holy Jesus, how hast thou offended,

that we to judge thee have in hate pretended?

By foes derided, by thine own rejected,

O most afflicted!

Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon thee?

Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone thee!

‘Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee;

I crucified thee.

Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;

the slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered.

For our atonement, while we nothing heeded,

God interceded.

For me, kind Jesus, was thy incarnation,

thy mortal sorrow, and thy life’s oblation;

thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion,

for my salvation.

Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay thee,

I do adore thee, and will ever pray thee,

think on thy pity and thy love unswerving,

not my deserving.

Only in that truth do we come you, Lord Jesus.