Choosing Retribution: Barabbas and the Lure of Insurrection

From the poetical dawn of time to this very moment, humanity has faced the same critical choice time and again: the way of peace or the way of retribution. Too often, we've chosen poorly.

The Insurrectionist and the Prince of Peace

The Gospel narrative offers us one of history's starkest examples. When Pilate presents the crowd with a choice between Jesus and Barabbas, they choose violence incarnate over peace embodied.

Barabbas wasn't merely a petty criminal as many imagine him. The Greek word used to describe him—στασιαστής (stasiastēs)—doesn't simply mean "thief." It specifically refers to a brigand, a revolutionary, an insurrectionist. A related word (λῃστής lestes) describes the two men crucified alongside Jesus, traditionally mistranslated as "thieves" but more accurately understood as fellow insurrectionists.

This detail transforms our understanding of the scene. The crowd didn't choose a common criminal over Jesus—they chose a violent revolutionary promising liberation through bloodshed over the one who taught, "Love your enemies" and "Turn the other cheek."

A Pattern Through Scripture

This wasn't the first time God's people had chosen violence over peace, power over love:

• Adam and Eve chose the tree of knowledge (power) over continued communion with God (life)
• Israel demanded a king (i.e., a permanent military leader) like other nations rather than continuing under God's direct guidance
• The people fashioned a golden calf they could see and control rather than trusting in the invisible God
• The Israelites repeatedly longed for the certainty Egyptian slavery over the uncertainty of freedom in the wilderness

Each time, the people believed that choosing power, control, and violence would make them safer. Each time, they were wrong.

Only One Insurrectionist Repented

Of the two insurrectionists on Golgotha that day, only one recognized his error. While one revolutionary mocked Jesus, the other had a moment of clarity, seeing that violence had led him only to death. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom," he pleaded. In that moment of repentance, he found salvation.

The other insurrectionist, like Barabbas, remained committed to the way of violence—and history doesn't record a happy ending for either.

American Fascism Rising

Today, we face the same choice between violence and peace, between fascism and democracy. The news stories from the past few weeks paint a disturbing picture:

• The Trump administration has invoked the 1798 Alien Enemies Act—a law only used during actual wartime—to deport hundreds of immigrants to El Salvador's notorious mega-prison, the Terrorism Confinement Center (CECOT). Many of these deportees have committed no crimes but were targeted simply for their tattoos and ethnicity.
• The Supreme Court just blocked an order requiring the administration to reinstate thousands of federal workers who were fired in mass terminations.
• Meanwhile, changes to Social Security rules will create additional hurdles for vulnerable Americans, particularly seniors and the disabled.

These are not isolated incidents but systematic steps toward authoritarianism—choosing Barabbas, choosing violence, choosing control over compassion. All in the name of "Christian values."

The crowd chose Barabbas because they believed violence, retribution, and vengenence was the path to liberation from Roman oppression. They were wrong. Within a generation, Jerusalem was destroyed, the Temple razed, and countless Jews killed or enslaved—the bloody fruit of insurrection.

Those supporting fascist policies today believe they're choosing safety and strength. Of course, my metaphor breaks down because first century Judeans and Galileans really were oppressed by the Roman Empire. Today's white evangelicals have bought into a lie that they are being oppressed by whatever the scare-word of the day is (CRT, DEI, wokeism, the radical left).

But history teaches us that the path of violence ultimately consumes even those who initially benefit from it. Leopards will eat their face.

A Different Way

Jesus didn't promise safety through retribution. In fact, he walked directly into crucifixion. But his way—the way of sacrificial love, of enemy love, of turning the other cheek, and even strategically flipping over tables—ultimately proved more powerful than all the empires of history combined.

When we choose violent vengeance, whether through our votes or our voices, we join the crowd shouting, "Give us Barabbas!" When we support policies that criminalize the vulnerable, that separate families, that prioritize retribution over restoration, we're choosing the insurrectionist over the Prince of Peace.

Christians especially must ask ourselves: Are we following Jesus, or are we following Barabbas? Are we trusting in the way of the cross, or are we putting our faith in Caesar's sword?

Nonviolence offers no guarantee of immediate safety. But neither does violence—it only guarantees more violence in return. The choice before us is clear: Will we continue the cycle of hostility and revenge, or will we have the courage to break it?