Karl told me he found some dice. He had a whole handful of the little game cubes, and he asked me if I wanted some. We were in the fifth grade, maybe sixth, at the time. I had no need for a pair of dice, but I thought it would be fun to have them. Karl said he had found them in a room at school where they kept supplies for various events, including some items for the school or parish card parties. Not many of the details remain in my memory, but I know I began to suspect the exact nature of how Karl had found these things. He gave me two of them. As I recall, one of them was bigger than the other, and both of them were scratched and worn. But I had never had a pair of dice of my own – even though they were not really a “pair” of dice. -- and I guess it was easy to overlook the flaws of something I really wanted to have, even the major flaw of how they were “found” and the minor flaw that they didn’t match.
* * * This long-ago incident wormed its way back into my consciousness recently after I received an e-mail message from a reader of this column, Leroy Jochum. He told me had been reading a Lenten meditation in a book by Bishop Ken Untener, “The Little Black Book.” The entry was about Barabbas, “a mysterious figure” who is “never mentioned again after the trial of Jesus.” The passion narrative brings out a sharp contrast “between the release of this hoodlum and the condemnation of Jesus.” Jochum concludes that Barabbas can be seen as all of mankind. “Aren’t we the guilty ones set free by the crucifixion of Christ?” The crowd had a choice – Jesus or Barabbas, and the result of their choice is painfully clear: the innocent one was condemned and the guilty one was set free. The innocent one was condemned and we were all set free.
* * * Well, I have to tell you that in my opening story, Karl got caught. The school principal somehow learned that some things were missing from the storage room, and that Karl was the one who had taken them. He may have taken more than a handful of dice, I never really knew, but whatever he had taken, he gave it all back. Except for the mismatched pair of dice he had given to me. The principal somehow learned about that part of the story, too, and I handed over what I had. Everything would have been OK up to that point, but then she had to go and ask me directly if I knew the dice had been stolen. That’s when I had a real choice to make. Now it was not a time of gradual understanding, or growing awareness. I had a real choice to make, to tell the truth or to protect myself – and I failed. Karl took all of the punishment, and I was free.
* * * For the rest of Lent, and beyond, we as Christians have an opportunity to reflect on the choices we are called to make. Whether in a crowd or alone in the principal’s office, each of us gets to choose. There comes a time, not with the random roll of dice at the foot of the cross, but with a direct question, clear and straightforward. Will it be Jesus? Or Barabbas?
* * * Take the time to prepare for the celebration of the Resurrection and how Jesus took upon himself the guilt of us all, and set us free. If we are called to make Jesus present in our homes and in our cities and towns — to continue his work of salvation — then we are challenged to find ways to set others free from whatever prison contains them. When others are confined by their poor health, or our prejudice, or by any other flaw in our society, then the choice is ours for the making. What will you choose to do?
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