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 “Pilate Knew. We Know. Now What?”

By Pr. Lisa Rygiel

The following is from the ELCA Facebook page and was written by Bob Mooney, Pastor at Messiah Lutheran who has given permission for its use.

“Pilate Knew. We Know. Now What?”

There is a weight in the air right now — a quiet heaviness I feel in conversations, in passing moments, even in my own heart. It is fear. It is anger. It is exhaustion. And when I listen closely, especially to those already carrying more than their share, I hear something deeper: a weary ache. A sense of being unseen, unheard, and, at times, expendable.

I hear it from LGBTQ siblings who wonder if their dignity will be protected or debated. From Black and Brown neighbors who carry generations of inequity in their bodies and daily lives. From immigrant families who give so much and yet live with uncertainty and fear. From people of different faith backgrounds who are too often treated with suspicion instead of respect. These are not abstract issues. These are people—beloved, bearing the image of God just as fully as any of us.

And I find myself asking, more urgently these days, what it actually means to follow Jesus in a moment like this.

Because it is not enough to feel compassion from a distance. It is not enough to quietly agree that something is wrong. The gospel always pulls us closer. It calls us to stand with, not just observe. It calls us to align our lives not with comfort or power, but with love.

That is why the story at the center of Holy Week feels so personal. Jesus stands before Pilate—arrested, accused, and vulnerable. The religious leaders have handed him over. The crowd is restless. The political tension is rising. Pilate questions him, listens, watches. And then he says it—three times: “I find no case against him.”

Three times.

Pilate knows. He sees the innocence of Jesus. This is not confusion. This is not uncertainty. Truth is standing right in front of him. And still he hesitates. Not because truth is unclear, but because something else is at stake: his position, his security, his future.

“If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor.”

That is the moment everything turns. Pilate is not choosing between right and wrong because he cannot tell the difference. He is choosing between truth and self-preservation. And he chooses himself. Better that one innocent man die than that he lose what he has.

That is the quiet logic of Good Friday. Not just violence, but calculation. Not just cruelty, but fear protecting itself.

And that is why this story refuses to stay in the past. Pilate is not just a Roman governor long ago. Pilate is every moment when conscience bows to convenience. The crowd is every moment when fear becomes cruelty. And Jesus is every innocent person the world decides is acceptable collateral damage.

I want to believe I would have stood with Jesus. I want to believe I would have resisted the pressure. But if I am honest, I recognize something of Pilate in me.

I know those moments—when speaking up feels risky, when silence feels safer, when I tell myself, “This isn’t mine to deal with.” And in those moments, without ever intending to, I begin to mirror the same pattern—choosing comfort over courage, security over truth.

That is how injustice lives on—not only in systems, but in us.

And when we talk about “collateral damage,” we are talking about real people. LGBTQ youth wondering if they are safe to be who they are. Black and brown communities still navigating systems shaped by long histories of inequity. Immigrant families who contribute to our shared life and yet live with the fear of being uprooted. Neighbors of other faiths who are too often treated as outsiders instead of part of the human family.

If I am honest, part of what allows that to continue is this: the cost is real, but it is not always mine to carry.

The cross refuses to let me look away from that truth. Because on the cross, Jesus becomes the one deemed expendable—an innocent life sacrificed to preserve order, a body caught in the machinery of power. Good Friday reveals what happens when maintaining control matters more than protecting human dignity.

And into moments like this, the words of Micah still speak with quiet, prophetic clarity: “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

That is not a slogan. It is a way of life.

To do justice means more than feeling troubled by suffering. It means refusing to accept a world where some lives are treated as less worthy than others. To love kindness means more than being polite. It means cultivating a fierce tenderness toward those the world has pushed aside. And to walk humbly with God means telling the truth about ourselves—that we are all capable of fear, compromise, and silence, and that we all stand in need of grace.

Micah’s words remind me of who I am—and whose I am. I belong to a God who does not calculate worth the way the world does. A God who does not sacrifice the vulnerable to preserve power. A God who, in Jesus, steps into suffering rather than avoiding it. A God who calls every human being beloved.

That means my identity is not rooted in protecting what I have, but in living out who I am as one created in the image of a loving God.

And that changes how I respond.

Because the call of the gospel is not simply to notice injustice—it is to interrupt it.

Not always in dramatic ways, but in real, daily choices. It might mean speaking up when someone is dismissed or dehumanized. It might mean choosing to listen—really listen—to voices I have overlooked. It might mean building relationships across lines the world tells me to avoid. It might mean allowing my comfort to be disrupted so that someone else’s dignity can be honored.

These are not grand gestures. But they are sacred ones.

Because every time I choose truth over comfort, every time I choose courage over silence, every time I choose love over fear, I step out of Pilate’s story and into Christ’s.

I will not do that perfectly. None of us will. But we can do it faithfully. And we do not do it alone.

Because Holy Week does not end with Pilate’s decision. It does not end with the cross.

Love does not stay buried.

Truth is not ultimately silenced.

The Spirit of God is still moving—right here, right now—softening hearts, opening eyes, calling us beyond fear and into something deeper.

Into lives shaped by justice.

By kindness.

By humility.

By love.

So here is the question Holy Week places before me—and before you:

Knowing what we know,

seeing what we see,

what will we choose?

Will we choose the safety of Pilate,

or the courage of Christ?

And not someday. Today.

 

Friday, April 3, Good Friday Service 7 p.m.

April 5, Resurrection of Our Lord
10 a.m. Sunday Worship

Announcements

  • Holy week at Zion’s began on Sunday, March 29, with Palm Sunday and continues with opportunities to worship and gather throughout the week.
    • Wednesday Soup Supper: Zion’s invites everyone to share the final soup supper of Lent at 5:30 p.m. on Wednesday, April 1, in the Fellowship Hall.
    • Maundy Thursday: We are invited to join our friends at First Methodist Church, 216 Broom St., at 6 p.m. on Thursday, April 2, for soup in their Fellowship Hall followed by a brief informal service of worship.
    • Good Friday: Worship service begins at 7 p.m. on Friday, April 3, in the Zion’s Sanctuary.
  • Easter Sunday: We gather for Easter worship at 10 a.m. on Sunday, April 5, in the Sanctuary, followed by an Easter brunch in the Fellowship Hall.
    • Easter Sunday Brunch: Following worship on Easter Sunday, we gather in the Fellowship Hall for brunch. The main dish will feature ham, egg bake, breakfast tamales, and other entrees. A sign-up sheet is in the Fellowship Hall for people to indicate the side dishes, salads and desserts they plan to bring. Easter Brunch replaces our regular First Sunday Potluck for April.
  • Wednesday Book Club: The Wednesday Book Club is focusing upon What if Jesus was Serious – A Visual Guide to the Teachings of Jesus We Love to Ignore. It meets at 10:30 a.m. each Wednesday in the Fellowship Hall. All are welcome.
  • Church Council: The next church council meeting will be after worship on Sunday, April 12.
  • Time of Prayer and Coffee: We are invited to join our siblings in Christ from the Methodist church for a time of prayer and coffee at 10:30 a.m. each Thursday at Kangaroo Coffee -- in the Marketplace on Commercial Street.
  • Zion’s Camp Out: Mark your calendars!  We have reserved the group camping area at Trinidad Lake State Park May 31 (Sunday) through Wednesday June 3. We are looking for people interested in leading activities and coordinating this adventure. Please see Pastor Lisa if you have suggestions.
  • God’s Work Our Hands: Terri Watson is coordinating efforts to match people who are able to provide outreach and support to members of our congregation who need assistance, such as rides and errands. For more information talk to Terri or use the sign-up sheets in the Fellowship Hall.
  • We’re Here for You: For pastoral care, call Zion’s at 719-846-7785 or send an email: zionsluth@gmail.com.

E-formation

By the second century, Christians had shaped Passover into an annual celebration of Christ’s resurrection, having agreed to keep this Christianized Pascha on the Sunday following the Jewish festival. By medieval times, the full Easter Vigil had been relegated to monasteries and convents, and so the Sunday morning celebration of Easter assumed priority in most churches. Since to be Christian is to believe in the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, observing Easter became the primary mark of a practicing Christian. The term “Easter duty” arose from the regulation that to be considered Christian, a person was required to make penance and then to attend eucharist at least once a year, at Easter. Since even now many Christians attend worship only on Easter, the challenge is to tell the whole story of salvation although focusing on only three readings.

Matthew 28:1-10

In Year A, most of the gospel readings come from Matthew, and that pattern suggests that John’s Easter gospel be proclaimed at the Easter Vigil and Matthew’s on Easter morning. Jesus appears, not only to the women leaving the tomb, but also to us, who worship him now this Sunday and hold onto his body in the bread of the eucharist.

Acts 10:34-43

Throughout the eight Sundays of the fifty days of Easter from Easter Day to Pentecost, the three-year lectionary appoints first readings from Acts. The idea is that the Spirit extended the power of the resurrection from the empty tomb to the whole Christian church, spreading throughout the Greco-Roman world. Thus we can think of each Sunday’s reading from Acts as another telling of the resurrection. In the sermon credited to Peter in Acts 10, Luke referred to the witnesses of the resurrection who “ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.” We believers see ourselves as among these witnesses.

Colossians 3:1-4

It is appropriate that, centuries after the life of Jesus, we hear from the letter to the Colossians on Easter Day: we ought not, its author argues, think that seeing angels is necessary for us to have faith in Christ’s resurrection. Rather, baptism has brought us all into the benefits of Easter.

Zion's Lutheran Church

zionsluth@gmail.com

719-846-7785