A Womanist Moment
Mark 15:6-15, NRSV
Now at the festival he used to release a prisoner for them, anyone for whom they asked. 7 Now a man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder during the insurrection. 8 So the crowd came and began to ask Pilate to do for them according to his custom. 9 Then he answered them, “Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” 10 For he realized that it was out of jealousy that the chief priests had handed him over. 11 But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. 12 Pilate spoke to them again, “Then what do you wish me to do with the man you call the King of the Jews?” 13 They shouted back, “Crucify him!” 14 Pilate asked them, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Crucify him!” 15 So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas for them, and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.
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Womanist moments are those that allow for a radical sense of seeing. It’s a moment that requires intentionality or will be otherwise missed. I remember Dr. Renita Weems describing a womanist moment as a simple “thank you” to the staff that cleans your hotel room. It is an acknowledgment of humanity. Something that society so often neglects. To encounter a woman who big-chopped her hair and say, “I love your hair,” is a womanist moment. To offer a head nod to a complete stranger, from one brother to another, is a womanist moment. To see an elder struggle to walk up a flight of stairs so you grasp their arm under yours to walk together is a womanist moment. To yell out “sang” from the pew when a soloist sings for the first time in front of the congregation is a womanist moment. To restrict womanist moments to only encompassing encounters between black women entirely denies its essence. Womanist moments are for all of us to embrace because it involves seeing the humanity of someone that others have rendered invisible. It just so happens that black women, who have gone generations in a position of invisibility, are masterful at seeing people’s humanity.
Jesus engaged in a womanist moment on the day before his crucifixion. After supper with his beloved disciples, he did something uncanny to his position as a deity but aligned with his character as a God of love. Jesus humbled himself yet again and washed the feet of his disciples. Jesus, who was their rabbi. Jesus, who led them through storms and parables and teachings so wondrous they could hardly fathom. The one who walked with them, led them, and showed them the way. Jesus, who did not throw his majesty at them but led with love so intimate and special that they recognized his power. That Jesus washed their rugged, worn-out, dirt-saturated feet with his hands. While Jesus was their leader, their God in the flesh, and their counselor, he saw them as his beloved. Jesus knew them, the journey they had taken, and the journey that was before them. He saw them, the confusion they had along the journey, the will of their hearts (some of them) to do what was right, the belief in him and the unbelief, the strengths, the weaknesses, the fallen shorts, the slumber, the prayer, the arrogance, and yet he humbles himself to wash their feet, why? To introduce them and us to a new level of seeing. A new level of love. A commandment that illustrates no matter where you find yourself on the fictitious hierarchy that society creates, we ought to love one another just as Jesus loves us. Every now and then, we need to wash someone’s feet and be reminded of the equity of Christ’s love. Maundy Thursday is a womanist moment of radical seeing.
Here in our text in Mark the 15th chapter, we witness another womanist moment. The text does not have Jesus saying a mumbling word as the people decide his fate with the empire. However, a silent Jesus in a biblical text is just the ingredient we need in a delicious womanist recipe. How do we interpret Jesus’ silence with this crowd? Jesus, who in the last 14 chapters, engulfed us with his words, sayings, parables, and proclamation. Jesus is not new to crowds nor a stranger to confrontation with misguided authorities. When a crowd came to challenge his works and say that he was working with Satan, Jesus spoke a parable uprooting their ridiculous notions of insanity. (Mark 3:20-30) When there was a large crowd with nothing to eat, Jesus said, “I have compassion for this crowd!” He told them to sit down and then fed the crowd with seven loaves and a few pieces of fish. (Mark 8:1-10) Jesus knows how to handle crowds. When Jesus was surrounded by a large crowd and felt some power go out from him, he addressed the crowd saying, “Who touched my cloak?” Jesus saw a woman through the crowd and said, “Daughter your faith has made you well.” (Mark 5:25-34) Jesus knows how to handle the crowd. When a crowd, including some Pharisees and some scribes, challenged him on the behavior of his disciples. Jesus addressed them and said, “You have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your tradition!” (Mark 7:1-16) All throughout Mark’s gospel, we see Jesus handling the crowd. Teaching the crowd, performing miracles in the crowd, commanding the attention of the crowd, proclaiming the good news to the crowd, and yet, at this moment, with this crowd, Jesus is doing something different.
He does not plead his case. He does not grace us with a performative parable. He doesn’t shout a savvy saying. In Jesus’ silence, I imagine he is looking at some of the same faces he encountered on his ministerial journey. Some of the same faces that sat in the temple as he taught. Some of the same faces that were once fatigued from hunger that he fed. Some of the same faces that received healing for themselves or perhaps a family member. Jesus is recounting the times in which he showed compassion for this so-called crowd that now can only shout, “Crucify him!” But Jesus, while he is not the recipient of seeing in this text, he is involved in his own womanist moment. Even in Jesus’ silence, he is still a savior. Not in the cliché, churchy sense, although he is that too. But in a womanist sense, in that Jesus’ silence saves Barabbas. A man who also finds his fate in the hands of a corrupt empire. We may think, how could the crowd choose to save this criminal over our beloved Jesus? It’s easy for us to succumb to the literary device of the gospel writer who creates a strong contrast between Jesus and Barabbas. While Jesus and Barabbas are not the same in their essence, they are the same in that they are prisoners of corruption. We can’t be so quick to crucify Barabbas when he has been deemed criminal by the same unjust system that has wrongfully convicted Jesus. The NRSV says that Now a man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder during the insurrection.
When we hear of insurrectionists, our minds may recollect those who raided the capital on Jan 6th, but I would suggest that these folks are not the same. Those who raided the capital were fighting to uphold their white supremacist “values.” In comparison, the insurrectionists in this text were trying to overthrow a government that was committed to their oppression. We cannot be fooled by the suggested kindness of Pilate and the hoax of a righteous ritual exemplified in this scene. The Roman Empire was a violent force of oppression that practiced economic exploitation and exercised its power by any means necessary. The insurrectionists in this text were anti-roman rule, anti-poverty, and anti-oppression. We can’t be quick to crucify Barabbas, a man that was imprisoned with those who were for the liberation of people. Barabbas could be a Martin Luther King Jr. Barabbas could be a Fannie Lou Hamer. Barabbas could be one of our siblings. Barabbas could be the friend that grew up down the street from us. Barabbas could be one of us who, if we are honest, are only one misunderstanding away from an arrest by corrupt law enforcement. Don’t be so quick to criminalize and crucify Barabbas. Jesus, the womanist seer, believes that even this man deserves another chance. A womanist moment.
To acknowledge the salvation and deliverance that Jesus grants people even before he gets to the cross is to understand his full power. We thank God for the resurrection power that did not allow the empire, the enemy, and the evils of the world to have the final say. However, before getting to the cross, Jesus was in the saving business. Jesus was practicing a radical form of seeing. Jesus taught, lived, and breathed compassion for those who found themselves in intolerable circumstances. This text shows us that even the people that we deem criminal, the folks that we have counted out, the ones that we are ready to crucify for the sake of ourselves, even they deserve to be seen. Jesus’s mandate forces us to acknowledge that we, too, are a recipient of the Lord’s grace and mercy and, therefore, must reckon with our own unjust proclivities.
As we reflect on this Maundy Thursday, may we remember the mandate that Christ gives us to live into an ethic of radical seeing and compassion. May we not be so quick to get to the cross that we will sell out anyone to get there, even if it means there’s blood on our own hands. May we not be complicit in the enemy’s schemes but heed Jesus’ seeing and demand that Barabbas deserves to live too. May we never forget that we are one bad encounter away from wrongful convictions and misinterpreted misunderstandings. May we challenge popular notions of exclusivity and engage in a daily practice of foot washing. May we discern Christ’s saving power in the midst of what seems to be his silence. Our prayer today is, Lord, may we never miss another womanist moment.
Reverend Tamesha Mills is a proud New Yorker born and raised in Queens. She is a woman after God’s own heart and is passionate about preaching and teaching the liberating Gospel of Jesus Christ. Rev. Mills has a Master of Divinity degree from Princeton Theological Seminary, a Master of Arts degree from Hofstra University, and a Bachelor of Arts degree from Adelphi University. In May of this year, she will finish an intensive program in Biblical Studies and earn a Master of Theology degree from Princeton Theological Seminary. She is an Itinerant
Elder in the African Methodist Episcopal Church and serves at The Greater Allen AME Cathedral of NY under the leadership of Senior Pastor, Rev. Dr. Elaine Flake and Pastor Emeritus Rev. Dr. Floyd Flake.
Rev. Mills accepted the call to ordained ministry in August 2018 and preached her trial sermon in May of 2019. Ministry has afforded her the opportunity to flourish in Christian Education and Discipleship through teaching New Members class, offering online workshops and Bible studies, teaching congregational discipleship classes, as well as leading in Young Adult Ministry at the Greater Allen AME Cathedral of NY.
Her research interests are in the Old Testament, Biblical Hebrew as well as the intersections of faith and the Black experience. While at Princeton Seminary she served as Women’s Fellowship Coordinator, Vice President as well as President of The Association of Black Seminarians (ABS) where she successfully led in organizing the campus for the removal of a former slave owner’s name from the Seminary Chapel.
Rev. Tamesha Mills is a proud 15 year-member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated. She is a current graduate member of Delta Rho Omega Chapter in Brooklyn, NY. Rev. Mills has been blessed to preach, teach and present research internationally and continues to explore the intersection of scholarship and faith for the justice, equity and thriving of all of God’s people.