The Forgotten Foil

A few years ago, when I lived in Canada, we went to our church’s Good Friday service as usual. In one part of his sermon, the pastor compared Barabbas, meaning “son of the father” (bar abba), with Jesus the “one and only” Son of His Father (Jn. 3:16).

This made an impact on me, and I began to consider how else these two characters compare. This developed into a poem.

In literature, the foil is the person or figure who provides a contrast to the main character in order to accentuate certain qualities. The foil enables the reader to better understand the protagonist or hero in greater depth. In a way, this is what Barabbas does with Jesus. He is woven into the story and shows us the depth of who Jesus really is—and who we are.

This poem I have called “Two Sons.”

Two Sons

There once was a prisoner, hardened, alone;

There once was a Prince, leaving His throne.

One was well-known, guilty, and proud;

One unfairly was despised by the crowd.

Cruel Barabbas, his father’s son—

His second chance had now begun.

Nazareth’s carpenter, human and homely,

Was God’s Cherished, the one and only.

The first was a captive, rash and depraved;

Next was the Lord, setting free the enslaved.

Barabbas, assassin, proponent of strife;

Jesus, the Bread, offers new life.

The rebel defied tyrannical rights,

While King of the coming world humbly unites.

One leads in power the insurrection;

One is triumphant in resurrection.

That Son would take the place of sin

That in death He might bravely win.

Earth’s justice, blinded by hatred and greed,

Slaughters the Son as the Father decreed,

Supporting the bandit resisting oppressor,

Ignoring the greater, divine Intercessor.

Gathering behind their messiah ideal,

They never guessed that God would reveal

The One whom they now judged as a fraud

Was the Savior foretold, sent by their God.

Still we hear the timeless ring

Of Pilate’s words: “Do you want this King?”

Barabbas was spared; he did not pay,

For another Son took his place that day,

One who acted just as He ought

And kept the Law as we could not.

But since the day of Jesus’ trial,

Today some roam the earth as vile

As that murderer, wild cutthroat

About whom Jesus’ disciples wrote.

Would it offend you if I said

We ought to be to crosses led

For our sins’ unhappy wages,

The curse of man throughout the ages?

We tend to forget or misunderstand

Sin pierces His side, drives nails through His hand.

We are the rebels, killers, and thieves

Because of whom God painfully grieves.

But He offers escape from sin’s dreaded noose:

Accepting the Gift of mercy profuse.

The smoldering wick, the unbroken reed,

You are the reason Barabbas was freed.