A Friend in Jail

I waited for him in the dimly lit cell. Slowly, he was lowered, bound with ropes, through the small hole, into the confined space where I stood. The cell had no doors or windows, so no possibility of escape. The only way in or out was through the opening through which he was now passing.

Mural in the house of the high priest

Jerusalem

The darkness was broken by a small shaft of light that shone from above, illuminating the face of a man who’d been viciously beaten. The ropes still tightly bound his arms and hands to his sides, as he came to rest on the rough stone floor.

I don’t quite remember how I got there in the first place, or how long I’d been there. Had I, like my new cellmate, been accused of some terrible crime? If so, I couldn’t say what it was. All that I knew is that I had been sent. Yes, I was meant to be there, to serve what amounted to a special mission of sorts. Although it wasn’t totally clear, I somehow knew that my purpose was to offer comfort to this poor man, to be a friend to him in his hour of need. But how? What was I to say? What was I to do?

View of the opening through which prisoners were lowered and raised

House of the high priest, Jerusalem

“My name is Joseph,” I started, “and I hope that you are going to be all right. Do you want to talk? Is there anything I can do for you?”

He was silent, perhaps not hearing? Or perhaps just wishing to be left alone, to spend this time in deep solitude.

I knew that we would be held here for at least one night, possibly longer. In the dark, we could sometimes hear voices from above, faintly, though now and then raised in anger.

I tried again. “Do you know what they are discussing? Is it your case? Can you tell me what you’ve been accused of? Why have you been beaten so badly?”

Silence again.

There was nothing to do but look this man over more carefully. He was dressed simply, clearly not of our upper classes. To be treated so harshly, I could only assume that the charges against him were extremely serious. And you should know that the holding cell in which we found ourselves, under the floor of the house of the high priest, was reserved for the worst of criminals, ones typically bound for execution.

I sat down on the cold, rough, stones. And, gesturing for him to join me, I hoped for an opportunity to offer a kind word. Awkwardly, without the use of his bound hands, he made his way to the ground, to sit beside me.

We sat for a long time, perhaps hours. The voices from above finally went silent, the small ray of light now gone. We were alone in total darkness.

I tried again. “What is your name?”

“Jesus.”

“And why are you here? What are you accused of?”

“Truly,” he slowly replied, “I am here because I love my father so much. Too much, in the opinion of the men in the room above us. My love for my father goes beyond anything that they could ever imagine, and they cannot tolerate it. They hate me because I love my father.

“And,” he went on, “my father wants me here. Yes, I am here because this is what my father wants. And I will obey him.”

I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father. (John 14)

“But,” I responded, “if your love for your father is so strong, how could he want this fate for you? Because, clearly, you have committed no crime. You do not deserve punishment for loving your father.”

He was silent, not answering.

“Your father must love you a great deal, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does. His love goes beyond any human love. His is a love that creates, a love that feeds, a love that binds up and heals, a love that protects. He loves the unlovable, the sick, the poor, the outcasts. His love, truly, is without limit or condition.”

“Then, if his love is so strong, how could he allow you to be so mistreated and find yourself bound and in this cell with me? Surely, this is not what your father wants. How can it be?”

He paused, and I thought he would not answer. It all seemed so wrong, so tragic, so unjust.

But he did: “I am to be the symbol of my father’s love, the sacrifice, the lamb of God. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. (John 3)

“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself. (John 12) When people see what will happen to me, there can be no doubt about my father’s love. In my obedience, I will glorify my father. And he will glorify me. If I glorify myself, my glory is nothing. It is my Father who glorifies me.” (John 8)

Now, I was silent, trying to understand. I needed to take all of this in. It seemed that this man, Jesus, was destined to die. Not for any crime, but for the sake of a love so powerful that it defies understanding. None of this made any sense.

“Don’t you have any friends? People who will support you? Fight for you?”

“Yes, I have followers, disciples. Tonight, they are scattered, in hiding. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me. (John 16) And later, they will see my father’s plan, and then, they will take my words to the entire world.

“You didn’t choose this path, did you?”

“My father chose this path and I obey. And he will raise me up, for the world to see his love and his power.” “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (John 10)

“Then,” I replied, “your path is set, given by your father. And your faith in him must get you through the ordeal that is ahead. Can I pray for you?”

“Yes,” Jesus replied, “I would like that.”

I began. “Holy father, look down upon this man, Jesus, the child of your creation. Look down on him in love, as he obeys you in laying down his life. Cover him in your protection; give him your strength and your peace; help him to understand the depth and width and height of your love, even as he suffers. And as he obeys to glorify you, I pray that you will glorify him in his love and obedience. Amen.”

“Thank you. Your presence means a lot to me. I am grateful.”

We again sat for a while in silence.

“Once your father has raised you, where will you go?”

“I will rejoin my brothers for a time, before returning to live with my father. I look forward to my new life with him.”

“Won’t you miss your friends?”

“Yes. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15)

We talked on, through the long night. Jesus told me about his friends, and his life in Nazareth, his travels throughout our land, and his family. My hope was to distract him from thinking too much about his fate. I think he brightened a bit as we shared.

“I loved weddings. And children, they were so special to me. I loved just walking through the hills, witnessing a sunrise or sunset, my father’s beautiful creation. I loved deep conversations with friends. I loved baby lambs and vineyards, men who worked with their hands and women who managed their households, never asking for thanks. I loved meeting in the synagogues, telling stories and reading from scripture, our holy word.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I love those things too and now that you have mentioned them, I remember how much I miss them.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I know who you are and I know who sent you. You were sent to bless me in this hour. I give thanks to my father for this time with you.”

Next, he went silent again and we sat together in the dark, chilling night. No more words were spoken and none were needed.

Finally, he spoke. “It’s time. The ruler of this world is coming. He has no power over me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father.” (John 14)

“Then I must be leaving. I am sorry to leave you alone.”

And immediately, there was a stirring from the room above. Voices shouted down to us.

“Who’s down there? I heard voices. I thought Jesus was by himself! Did we put someone else in there too?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why the voices?”

“I don’t know. I’m looking but can see only one man, the Nazarene. Anyway, let’s get him back up here and get on with it! We have work to do!”

I felt myself leaving, being drawn away from Jesus. As we parted, I instinctively placed my hand on his shoulder.

“I will continue to pray for you, Jesus. I will pray that your faith in your father will get you through the ordeal that lies ahead.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “I will see you on the other side.”

And then, I was gone.