“I am Barabbas”
This past Sunday, the preacher in the church service we attended told a story about a heavily tattooed young man he spoke with who, discovering the pastor’s vocation, told him that he had a tattoo with the name,“Barabbas,” down his back. He talked about the Bible story, and then said he couldn’t imagine, as that wicked man walked free past Jesus, how he could not have wondered about this One who would be put to death in his place. The young man finished by saying,”that’s me. I am Barabbas.”
I don’t know if the young man was saying he understood the deeper meaning of this, but there is one.
Bible scholars and Bible texts can tell us a little more about Barabbas. His name is an Aramaic compound that means “Son of the Father.” In Matthew 27 he is called a “notorious” prisoner—think Ted Bundy, or Charles Manson. Everyone knew about him and his evil deeds. He was involved in an insurrection according to Mark 15:7-15—a violent uprising against Rome, and in it he committed murder (see also Acts 3:14). John (18:40) simply calls him a “robber,” pointing to an evil motivation, not some patriotic rebel.
Clearly, Pilate’s offer of Barabbas to the crowd as an option was, in his mind, a sure way to gain freedom for Jesus. His underestimation of the religious leaders’ hatred could not have been greater.
I’ve read some accounts that, like our tattooed friend mentioned above, suggest that Barabbas may have been affected by his substitute. One tradition says he died in a later insurrection against Rome. Dramatists from later history have tried to say he became a believer. A fascinating question is created by ancient Syriac copies of the Bible that call him “Jesus Bar-abbas"—indicating his first name was Jesus and his surname “Son of the father.” If that is the case, then Jesus the Messiah, who is truly “the Son of the Father,” took the place of Jesus the insurrectionist, son of the father. And there are those who speculate that, because of Jesus’ claims to be the “Son,” then “Bar-abbas” might have been a title ascribed to him. These ideas have greater or lesser evidence and credibility; some or all might be true, or most might be nothing more than speculation and guesswork.
What is most significant in my thinking is that what we see happen in this one case is what the Cross accomplishes for us all. One man, justly condemned for his sin, is released from that condemnation through no merit of his own. His penalty is taken by One who committed no crime, and Barabbas went free.
Spiritually, this is what all of us experience when we come to the Cross in faith. We discover that our deserved condemnation is taken by the Savior and we are set free. More than that, by faith we become children of our Heavenly Father. On this Good Friday, we can say,
“I am Barabbas”—a guilty sinner who deserves nothing but death.
“I am Barabbas”—one whose penalty has been taken freely by another.
“I am Barabbas”—a son of God, my Father through adoption in grace.
I don’t know if the original Barabbas grasped the true meaning of Jesus substitutionary death. I don’t even know if the tattooed man did, either. But I know a sinner just as undeserving as either of them who can now rejoice in life through faith in that Substitute. I see that sinner every day in the mirror.
