Plato once wrote this spicy little gem:
Wrong quote.. my bad.
“If a perfectly just man ever existed, we’d hate him so much we’d beat him, torture him, and crucify him.”
And before you ask—no, he wasn’t watching Mel Gibson movies in reverse.
This was 400 years before crucifixion became the Roman version of deleting someone from the group chat.
At first glance, you might think Plato was just being dramatic again.
But then… a man named Jesus showed up.
A perfectly just man.
And we did exactly what Plato predicted.
Oops.
Plato: The Original Thought Baddie
Let’s set the scene:
Plato, 4th century BC.
Bearded.
Sandals.
Probably fasting for “clarity.”
He’s sitting around thinking deep thoughts while his students (including Aristotle) are trying not to cry.
He invents entire worlds in his head (kinda lame tbh),
The Republic,
the Allegory of the Cave,
ideal societies,
and moral frameworks no one can actually follow.
He’s that guy who tells you the Matrix isn’t real enough.
And in the middle of all this philosophizing, he basically blurts out:
“If someone was truly just… we’d destroy him. Not with arguments. With nails.”
Daddy Chill.
But as it turns out, he may have wandered backward into one of the most prophetic statements in ancient history.
Enter: Saint Augustine, Theology’s First Fanboy
Fast-forward 800 years.
Meet Augustine.
Ex-party boy turned bishop,
Augustine was the original “bad boy to pastor” pipeline.
He wrote entire books while repenting in Latin and inventing Western theology on the fly.
And when he read Plato, he didn’t roll his eyes. He said:
“Yo… I think this guy accidentally stumbled into Christianity.”
Augustine believed Plato caught a glimpse,
like peeking through a keyhole,
of the moral universe Jesus would walk in and light on fire.
He saw in Plato a philosopher groping in the dark toward the very God he didn’t yet know.
Like a blindfolded scholar accidentally putting his hand on the Ark of the Covenant and surviving.
Augustine called it “rightly ordered love.”
Translation: Love God first.
Love people through that lens.
(Modern translation: Put down your ego. You are not the main character.)
Jesus: Embodied Justice, Zero Chill for Hypocrisy
Jesus doesn’t need an introduction.
But if you’re new here... He’s the guy who:
- flipped tables,
- healed lepers,
- told the truth,
- forgave his murderers,
- and was the moral standard Plato theorized about.
He didn’t just tweet about justice.
He was justice.
And that’s precisely why the system couldn’t handle him.
Real justice doesn’t hug your ego—it crucifies it.
It tells you your pride isn’t noble.
Your sin isn’t a brand.
And your self-deception is not self-care. (Jk about the lame shit I said above)
Which brings us to us.
Barabbas: The People’s Champion of “Close Enough”
Every good story needs a foil.
Enter: Barabbas.
Convicted criminal.
Local menace.
First-century wildcard.
And somehow, the crowd favorite.
When Pontius Pilate said,
“You can have Jesus or Barabbas,”
the people didn’t hesitate.
They picked the dude with blood on his hands over the man with peace in his eyes.
Why?
Because Barabbas doesn’t make you change.
Barabbas lets you keep your idols.
Barabbas makes bad feel normal.
He’s the candidate for everyone who says,
“Look, I’m not trying to grow—I’m just trying to not get convicted today.”
And here’s the uncomfortable truth:
We still vote Barabbas in every election.
We pick him in relationships.
In churches.
In our scrolling habits.
Barabbas isn’t just a person anymore.
He’s a preference.
Justice Still Gets Cancelled
Let’s not be naive.
If Jesus showed up today, we wouldn’t crucify him with nails. We’d do it digitally.
- We'd clip him out of context.
- We’d call him “problematic.”
- We’d accuse him of misinformation.
- We’d label him “divisive,” “intolerant,” or “off-brand for our wellness aesthetic.”
We’d cancel him with likes.
Silence him with algorithms.
Unfollow him with just enough distance to still feel spiritual.
And we’d feel good about it.
Because deep down, we’re still not okay with truth that costs us.
The Justice We Want vs. The Justice We Get
Let’s be honest.
We want justice that:
- Agrees with our politics.
- Supports our lifestyle.
- Doesn’t mess with our weekends.
- And most importantly—doesn’t crucify our ego.
But that’s not the kind Jesus brought.
He didn’t show up to throw glitter on our issues.
He came to upend them.
And Plato—bless his sandal-wearing, idealist soul—somehow saw that coming.
So… What Will You Do With Jesus When He Returns?
You have the same options the crowd did:
- Crown him.
- Or crucify him.
- Call him the Lord of Truth.
- Or call him “too intense.”
Just don’t pretend you’re neutral.
Because truth isn’t waiting politely in a corner.
He'll be knocking at your door,
Flipping your furniture,
And asking why Barabbas is still on the couch.
What Is The Core Takeaway, Dalton?
But None of This Matters!!!
Let’s be honest.
Not redemption.
Not rightly ordered love.
Not the crucified Son of God.
If you’ve learned one thing
and one thing only
let it be this:
Plato was an autistic weapon.
A rain man of moral foresight.
A pattern-recognition demigod dropped into pre-Christian Greece,
just vibing with the logos.
And in today’s economy?
That should’ve made someone a lot of money. 🤑🤑🤑🤑
Like, sit with that for a minute.
Plato looked at human nature...
squinted a little...
connected dots no one else saw...
and basically said:
“Yeah, if someone was too good, y’all would murder him.”
That’s not philosophy.
That’s elite-level pattern recognition.
That’s hedge-fund energy. 💰🪙💸💹🤑
So remember,
You don’t need to repent.
You just need to recognize the margins on moral clairvoyance.
You are perfect just the way you are, beasty.
So now, begin to think about how to exploit the next Plato.
Because Plato saw humanity clearly
And we crucified the guy he predicted, right on schedule.