Pontius Pilate on Trial
Sermon
A Fine Gospel for Preaching
Cycle B Gospel Text Sermons for Pentecost Last Third
Object:
Have you ever seen a warning sign at an old railroad crossing? "Stop! Look! Listen!" it reads. Here in the text we come to the biography of Pontius Pilate, a main character in the passion story of our Lord Jesus Christ. His life, like an old warning, urges us to stop, look, and listen to what God is saying to us through this man's foibles.
Let's do that now.
Who Was Pilate?
The name Pilate is from the Latin, pilatus or pikeman, referring to a soldier with a spear. Perhaps Pilate was a common soldier who had worked himself up through the ranks to a leadership role.
An early legend tells of Pilate being the illegitimate son of King Tyrus of Mainz. While in Rome for an education he murdered a man, was exiled to Pontus in Asia Minor where he made good, and was eventually given the governorship of Judea as a reward.
Pontius is a Latin word, a family name, very Roman. It suggests that Pilate was not a foreigner but a true Roman born citizen. Likely he was from a fine family and received the usual training for public service and rising in rank from minor postings. He's been sent to Palestine, which was not a coveted post because the Jews were so difficult to deal with. But it was a rung in the ladder for the up and coming Pilate. As governor he was answerable only to the emperor in Rome. Pilate's wife was Claudia, the child of Emperor Tiberius' third wife. It is possible that Pilate had married money and power and his wife's family was garnering for him a governorship.
At any rate Pontius Pilate became the fifth Roman governor of Judea, ruling for ten years from 26 to 36 AD.
Much of what we know about Pilate is found in the scriptures that portray him mostly in a favorable light as capable administratively, proud, obstinate, and aristocratic. Pilate is also mentioned in the writings of Josephus and Philo.
Philo wrote of Pilate as "inflexible," "merciless," and "obstinate." He tells us that Pilate was in his early thirties when he began to rule Judea. That would have made him about Christ's age when he stood face-to-face with him at the trial.
The four previous governors of Judea only managed to rule twenty years among them. Pilate alone ruled for ten, so he must have been an adroit survivor, a capable administrator.
Moving into Palestine, Pilate set up his official residence in Caesarea by the Sea, Herod's architectural seaport masterpiece. From there it was only eighty miles to Jerusalem, the Jewish capital.
History tells us that when Pilate first came to his new governorship he discovered no image of Caesar in Jerusalem. Every city center in the empire had a statue to which loyal citizens could bow as they passed by. Wanting to exert his authority and to make an impression, Pilate marched his army into Jerusalem with its standards held high, the image of Caesar graven upon each. These he hung on the outer walls of his Fortress Antonia overlooking the temple on Mount Zion. Then he left for his palace at Caesarea.
The Jews were angry. According to the Ten Commandments it was a sin to make a graven image. Seven thousand Jewish protestors marched to Pilate's palace and staged a five-day sit-in praying, worshiping, and chanting. Pilate finally relented and took the images down.
Next, Pilate wanted more fresh water in Jerusalem, especially in his Fortress Antonia. So he determined to build an aqueduct from the region of Bethlehem to his fort. But how could he fund it? A simple temple tax would do nicely. So he ordered money to be taken from the temple treasury. Again, his edict inflamed the Jews. A huge crowd of angry protesters gathered. Because Pilate sent plain clothes soldiers into the crowd to beat the leaders with nightsticks, a panic ensued, and over 1,000 people were trampled to death in the crush. When a lurid account of the incident reached the emperor in Roma, a black mark was put by Pilate's name.
Then there is the incident of the golden shields. In his Jerusalem office Pilate hung several shields of hammered gold. Though there was no image on them an inscription read, "Dedicated to Tiberius Caesar. Given by Pontius Pilate." The Jews said such was a deliberate provocation and complained to Rome. Pilate received a scathing letter from the emperor saying, "Do not antagonize your subjects in any way henceforth or you will have outlived your usefulness in Judea!"
Pilate, it seems, received the emperor's letter just prior to Good Friday, the day of Christ's trial. He'd been in Judea barely three years when at 6 a.m. one chilly morning a crowd of Jews began to gather excitedly at the gate of his fort. This time they had with them a Jewish miracle worker called Jesus of Nazareth. It seems they wanted to put him to death for blasphemy against God.
What Did Pilate Do?
That is something of who Pilate was. Now this: What did Pilate do? Pilate was in his early thirties, he had ruled Palestine for three years, and he'd been constantly embroiled in conflict with a religious people he barely understood. And he was jittery over his job security.
The Bible tells us it was the time of the Passover. Jerusalem, normally a city of 50,000 people, had swollen to over a quarter of a million people. It was important for Pilate as governor to leave his seaside palace and go up to his Fortress Antonia to oversee crowd control and to nip any revolt by the Jews in the bud.
Pilate had five infantry cohorts, about 2,500 men, with him to enforce the peace. His army was on full alert. The crowd was especially restless this year. It seemed one Jesus of Nazareth, a young prophet, had caught the attention of the populace by his teachings. To make matters worse, it was said he raised a dead man in a nearby village.
It was then that Pilate was told by aids that an excited mob was gathering at his fort gates. It was early. Pilate hadn't even had his first cup of coffee. "What do these infernal Jews want now?" Pilate fumes. "Tell them to come in!"
But the Jews refused. For them, Pilate and his fort were unclean. If they went in they would become defiled and unfit to celebrate the Passover. "We'll only go as far as your gates," they said.
Pilate had to go out in the cold to see what they wanted. The Bible is quite clear in saying Pilate stood "on the pavement" to meet with the Jews. Remember the thwarted aqueduct? As an alternative Pilate built "the pavement" using the inner courtyard of the fort as a rain collector that funneled water into underground cisterns. Every time Pilate saw it, it must have aggravated him to think of his unbuilt aqueduct.
In the chill of the morning, on the pavement, dealing with Jews who'd refused to come in, with Caesar's letter in his pocket, without a cup of coffee, Pilate faced the elders of the Jewish temple. "What do you want this time?" Pilate asked grouchily.
The spokesman shoved Jesus forward and Pilate met him for the first time. Jesus was accused of blasphemy. Pilate told them he could care less about their religion. "See to it yourselves!" he growled.
The Jews pointed out they wanted to kill Jesus and to do so they needed the governor's permission. During the conversation it came out that Jesus was from Galilee. That was out of Pilate's jurisdiction. Herod Antipas ruled there. Herod just happened to be in town for the Passover. Pilate sent the whole mob to Herod with a bureaucratic chuckle.
Herod, the Bible says, received Jesus with real interest. For some time now he'd hoped to meet Jesus, perhaps to see him do some sign or wonder. When Christ was silent before Herod, the ruler allowed his guards to mock Jesus and to beat him and then they sent him back to Pontius Pilate.
Pilate couldn't believe it. Like a bad penny that keeps coming back, here came the mob and Jesus again. "I can't even finish my breakfast!" Pilate moaned.
Jesus was pulled into the Fortress Antonia and examined by Pilate for the first time. "Are you the Jewish Messiah?" Pilate asks. "Are you a king? Who are you?"
Christ, "like a lamb before its shearers is dumb," greeted Pilate with silence or enigmatic answers. And the governor, finding no crime in him, wanted to let him go. But the crowd is growing and yelling for Christ's execution.
Pilate tried a clever ploy. It had become a tradition at Passover as a token of Roman goodwill for the governor to release a Jewish prisoner. Pilate had in his custody a terrorist awaiting execution. He was a thief and murderer named Barabbas. Pilate thought if the people were given a choice between a teacher and a murderer, the people would surely choose the teacher Jesus. He offered the mob Christ or Barabbas.
"Give us Barabbas!" the crowd snarled. "Then what shall I do with Jesus?" Pilate asked. "Away with him! Let him be crucified!" the mob screamed.
Pilate was not finished yet. He still had more cards up his sleeve. He brought Christ into the fort again and had him chastised.
Christ was stripped and his hands were tied to a pillar above his head. A soldier took a whip with lead bits and sharp bones embedded in the leather thongs and began to give Christ forty lashes. The bones and lead bits embed themselves in Christ's flesh only to be torn away. Quickly the Nazarene's back was reduced to shreds.
A purple robe was placed on Jesus' bloody back, a crown of thorns was plaited upon his brow, and the Roman garrison began to mock Jesus saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" Then they slapped Jesus, spat on him, and struck him with their fists.
Pilate took Jesus out to the mob again. "Behold the man!" Pilate exclaimed. He hoped the crowd would see Jesus so bloodied and take pity, feeling he'd suffered enough. The crowd began to chant again their carefully bribed chorus: "Away with him! Crucify him!"
Pilate couldn't believe it. "What! Shall I crucify your king?" "We have no king but Caesar!" they shouted. "But what crime has Jesus committed?" Pilate asked. Then they administered their final manipulative blow to Pilate. "If you let this man go you are no friend of Caesar's," they said.
Pilate looked at the growing crowd. He knew he only had 2,500 soldiers to control 250,000 people. He remembered the golden shields, the aqueduct incident, and Caesar's scathing letter. "What do I do?" Pilate wondered desperately.
Meanwhile Pilate's wife had risen late from a good night's sleep. She had a dream. Jesus was a god or something. He was to be feared. She sent word to her husband, "Have nothing to do with this righteous man, for I have been greatly troubled in my dreams over him."
Pilate read his wife's note and turned pale. He called Jesus back into the fort for a third interrogation. "Who are you? Where are you from? Are you a god?" Jesus was silent.
Pilate took Jesus back out to the crowd at the gate of the fort. "What would you have me do with Jesus?" he asked. "Away with him! Let him be crucified!" the mob screamed.
Pilate called for a basin of water. Publicly, decorously he washed his hands of the entire matter. "His blood be upon your heads, for I find no fault in the man," Pilate said. And the Jews, not knowing what to say, chorused, "His blood be upon us and our children!"
Pilate handed Jesus over to the guard to be crucified. Christ was stripped to a loin cloth, a cross beam was tied to his shoulders, and he was lead away.
Pilate accomplished his final act in the biblical narratives. He wrote the titulus, or list of charges against Jesus. It read, "Jesus Christ, King of the Jews."
The idea, you see, was to make the criminal carry his own gallows through the street to his place of execution. A soldier carried the titulus, the list of charges, for all to see. The whole process became a grand deterrent to the rest of the population.
So Jesus started off on the Via Delorosa, the way of sorrows. The Jews ran ahead to watch Jesus pass and to gloat over the fall of their detractor. Then they read the titulus and got mad. Running back to Pilate who was still trying to eat his breakfast, they called Pilate back to the gate. "What now?" Pilate glowered.
"You wrote the charges wrong! Don't put 'Jesus Christ, King of the Jews,' but 'This man said he is king of the Jews'!"
By this time Pilate had had it. His temper boiled over and he resorted to childish behavior. "What I have written, I have written," he obstinately declared. Finally Pilate refused to be pushed around. Finally on a niggling detail he took a firm stand!
Is There Something of Pilate in Us?
Thus far we've asked, "Who was Pilate?" "What did Pilate do?" Now let us examine ourselves in light of Pilate's biography.
We, too, like Pilate put Jesus on trial in the court of our lives. "Who are you? Where do you come from? Are you the Jewish Messiah? Are you a lord? What is the truth?"
Like Pilate we stand eyeball to eyeball with Jesus. We have to sift through the evidence and try to make sense out of the claims and counterclaims of his life.
Like Pilate we're jittery and insecure in our own reign. We've not finished our sleep, we've not had our coffee, and we're tired of being interrupted. We just want to climb the next rung of the social ladder.
Like Pilate we're perfectly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Jesus and not recognizing God. Like Pilate we can cynically ask Jesus, "What is truth?" and never wait for an answer.
Like Pilate we can give in to the voices that shout the loudest, do the easy thing, follow the crowd, and practice the fine art of self-preservation.
After all, we're not very religious, we bow to no one. But when our wife dreams, we suddenly get very superstitious, wash our hands of the man, and run away. "Do as you please! I've got my own life to lead," we say in excusing ourselves.
If pushed too hard, again like Pilate with the titulus, we stand firm, "What I've written, I've written!" Thus we make mountains out of molehills and molehills out of mountains. We major in minors -- job security, sleeping late, a cup of coffee. But we minor in majors -- "What in truth?"
The word that comes to my mind when I think of Pilate is "nearly." It's a sad word that keeps company with just about, almost, and next time. It smacks of lost opportunities, blown chances, honorable mention, and burned dinners.
How many people are known to have the claim to fame: "nearly"?
He nearly won a gold medal.
He nearly quit drinking.
He nearly made the catch.
He nearly committed his life to Christ.
Pilate nearly pardoned the Prince of Peace. He almost administered justice. He had the choice. The power was his. The army was there to enforce it. He had the facts. He nearly did the correct thing!
Nearly. Such a simple but potent word.
We nearly won. She almost chose not to leave him. We nearly worked it out. I just about believed.
Why? Why is there such a wide gap between "He nearly" and "He did"?
Luke 23:23 (RSV) tells us why:
A third time Pilate said to the crowd, "Why, what evil has he done? I have found in him no crime deserving death; I will therefore chastise him and release him." But they were urgent, demanding with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed.
"Their voices" -- the crowd, the bribed mob, the golden shields, Caesar's threatening letters. "Their voices prevailed."
Pilate's fears prevailed. Pilate's pride prevailed. Pilate's self-preservation reflexes prevailed. Pilate's power-hunger prevailed. Injustice prevailed. Satan prevailed.
There were other voices Pilate could have heard. The voice of Jesus. Three times Pilate stood and looked into Christ Jesus' face. Though Jesus spoke little, even his silence spoke eloquently more than the mob's demands. Yet Pilate refused to listen.
He could have heard the voice of his own conscience, a voice so loud Pilate tried to wash it all away in a basin. "I am guiltless of this innocent man's blood," Pilate murmured.
He could even have heard the voice of his own wife, the voice of her dream: "Have nothing to do with righteous man."
But Pilate refused to stop, to look, to listen.
So his life became a "nearly." He nearly did the right thing. Almost. But not quite.
In Shakespeare's Macbeth the king laments, "Man is a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage, then is seen and heard no more." Christ was tried before Pilate, crucified, thrown into a hasty tomb, but now is risen as Savior and king forever!
Pilate tried Jesus, washed his hands, and went on to have a fine breakfast that morning so long ago. He ruled Palestine for seven more years. Then in 36 AD he mistook a Samaritan crowd of worshipers on Mount Gerazim as a revolt in the making. He sent in his army and wiped out a nearby village in reprisal. Roman Emperor Vitellius recalled Pilate from his governor's post and exiled him. Some say Nero executed him. Some say he was banished to Vienna. Others say Pilate took his own life.
Pilate is immortalized in the simple Apostles' Creed. Every Sunday millions of Christians mention his name before God as they speak of Jesus, "Born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried." His notoriety is to be the only human mentioned in the Creed.
"Nearly." Write it down as Pilate's epitaph. But "nearly" is not in Jesus' vocabulary. With Christ you're either for him or against him. With Jesus nearly must become fully; sometimes has to become always; cynicism must become faith.
Stop! Look! Listen! The slow train of Pontius Pilate's life is passing by. What will you do with Jesus Christ? What verdict will you pronounce of him?
Suggested Prayer
Lord Jesus, I stand before you not to judge you, but to be judged. Forgive my selfish, delusional life. In your mercy, make me your child. Amen.
Let's do that now.
Who Was Pilate?
The name Pilate is from the Latin, pilatus or pikeman, referring to a soldier with a spear. Perhaps Pilate was a common soldier who had worked himself up through the ranks to a leadership role.
An early legend tells of Pilate being the illegitimate son of King Tyrus of Mainz. While in Rome for an education he murdered a man, was exiled to Pontus in Asia Minor where he made good, and was eventually given the governorship of Judea as a reward.
Pontius is a Latin word, a family name, very Roman. It suggests that Pilate was not a foreigner but a true Roman born citizen. Likely he was from a fine family and received the usual training for public service and rising in rank from minor postings. He's been sent to Palestine, which was not a coveted post because the Jews were so difficult to deal with. But it was a rung in the ladder for the up and coming Pilate. As governor he was answerable only to the emperor in Rome. Pilate's wife was Claudia, the child of Emperor Tiberius' third wife. It is possible that Pilate had married money and power and his wife's family was garnering for him a governorship.
At any rate Pontius Pilate became the fifth Roman governor of Judea, ruling for ten years from 26 to 36 AD.
Much of what we know about Pilate is found in the scriptures that portray him mostly in a favorable light as capable administratively, proud, obstinate, and aristocratic. Pilate is also mentioned in the writings of Josephus and Philo.
Philo wrote of Pilate as "inflexible," "merciless," and "obstinate." He tells us that Pilate was in his early thirties when he began to rule Judea. That would have made him about Christ's age when he stood face-to-face with him at the trial.
The four previous governors of Judea only managed to rule twenty years among them. Pilate alone ruled for ten, so he must have been an adroit survivor, a capable administrator.
Moving into Palestine, Pilate set up his official residence in Caesarea by the Sea, Herod's architectural seaport masterpiece. From there it was only eighty miles to Jerusalem, the Jewish capital.
History tells us that when Pilate first came to his new governorship he discovered no image of Caesar in Jerusalem. Every city center in the empire had a statue to which loyal citizens could bow as they passed by. Wanting to exert his authority and to make an impression, Pilate marched his army into Jerusalem with its standards held high, the image of Caesar graven upon each. These he hung on the outer walls of his Fortress Antonia overlooking the temple on Mount Zion. Then he left for his palace at Caesarea.
The Jews were angry. According to the Ten Commandments it was a sin to make a graven image. Seven thousand Jewish protestors marched to Pilate's palace and staged a five-day sit-in praying, worshiping, and chanting. Pilate finally relented and took the images down.
Next, Pilate wanted more fresh water in Jerusalem, especially in his Fortress Antonia. So he determined to build an aqueduct from the region of Bethlehem to his fort. But how could he fund it? A simple temple tax would do nicely. So he ordered money to be taken from the temple treasury. Again, his edict inflamed the Jews. A huge crowd of angry protesters gathered. Because Pilate sent plain clothes soldiers into the crowd to beat the leaders with nightsticks, a panic ensued, and over 1,000 people were trampled to death in the crush. When a lurid account of the incident reached the emperor in Roma, a black mark was put by Pilate's name.
Then there is the incident of the golden shields. In his Jerusalem office Pilate hung several shields of hammered gold. Though there was no image on them an inscription read, "Dedicated to Tiberius Caesar. Given by Pontius Pilate." The Jews said such was a deliberate provocation and complained to Rome. Pilate received a scathing letter from the emperor saying, "Do not antagonize your subjects in any way henceforth or you will have outlived your usefulness in Judea!"
Pilate, it seems, received the emperor's letter just prior to Good Friday, the day of Christ's trial. He'd been in Judea barely three years when at 6 a.m. one chilly morning a crowd of Jews began to gather excitedly at the gate of his fort. This time they had with them a Jewish miracle worker called Jesus of Nazareth. It seems they wanted to put him to death for blasphemy against God.
What Did Pilate Do?
That is something of who Pilate was. Now this: What did Pilate do? Pilate was in his early thirties, he had ruled Palestine for three years, and he'd been constantly embroiled in conflict with a religious people he barely understood. And he was jittery over his job security.
The Bible tells us it was the time of the Passover. Jerusalem, normally a city of 50,000 people, had swollen to over a quarter of a million people. It was important for Pilate as governor to leave his seaside palace and go up to his Fortress Antonia to oversee crowd control and to nip any revolt by the Jews in the bud.
Pilate had five infantry cohorts, about 2,500 men, with him to enforce the peace. His army was on full alert. The crowd was especially restless this year. It seemed one Jesus of Nazareth, a young prophet, had caught the attention of the populace by his teachings. To make matters worse, it was said he raised a dead man in a nearby village.
It was then that Pilate was told by aids that an excited mob was gathering at his fort gates. It was early. Pilate hadn't even had his first cup of coffee. "What do these infernal Jews want now?" Pilate fumes. "Tell them to come in!"
But the Jews refused. For them, Pilate and his fort were unclean. If they went in they would become defiled and unfit to celebrate the Passover. "We'll only go as far as your gates," they said.
Pilate had to go out in the cold to see what they wanted. The Bible is quite clear in saying Pilate stood "on the pavement" to meet with the Jews. Remember the thwarted aqueduct? As an alternative Pilate built "the pavement" using the inner courtyard of the fort as a rain collector that funneled water into underground cisterns. Every time Pilate saw it, it must have aggravated him to think of his unbuilt aqueduct.
In the chill of the morning, on the pavement, dealing with Jews who'd refused to come in, with Caesar's letter in his pocket, without a cup of coffee, Pilate faced the elders of the Jewish temple. "What do you want this time?" Pilate asked grouchily.
The spokesman shoved Jesus forward and Pilate met him for the first time. Jesus was accused of blasphemy. Pilate told them he could care less about their religion. "See to it yourselves!" he growled.
The Jews pointed out they wanted to kill Jesus and to do so they needed the governor's permission. During the conversation it came out that Jesus was from Galilee. That was out of Pilate's jurisdiction. Herod Antipas ruled there. Herod just happened to be in town for the Passover. Pilate sent the whole mob to Herod with a bureaucratic chuckle.
Herod, the Bible says, received Jesus with real interest. For some time now he'd hoped to meet Jesus, perhaps to see him do some sign or wonder. When Christ was silent before Herod, the ruler allowed his guards to mock Jesus and to beat him and then they sent him back to Pontius Pilate.
Pilate couldn't believe it. Like a bad penny that keeps coming back, here came the mob and Jesus again. "I can't even finish my breakfast!" Pilate moaned.
Jesus was pulled into the Fortress Antonia and examined by Pilate for the first time. "Are you the Jewish Messiah?" Pilate asks. "Are you a king? Who are you?"
Christ, "like a lamb before its shearers is dumb," greeted Pilate with silence or enigmatic answers. And the governor, finding no crime in him, wanted to let him go. But the crowd is growing and yelling for Christ's execution.
Pilate tried a clever ploy. It had become a tradition at Passover as a token of Roman goodwill for the governor to release a Jewish prisoner. Pilate had in his custody a terrorist awaiting execution. He was a thief and murderer named Barabbas. Pilate thought if the people were given a choice between a teacher and a murderer, the people would surely choose the teacher Jesus. He offered the mob Christ or Barabbas.
"Give us Barabbas!" the crowd snarled. "Then what shall I do with Jesus?" Pilate asked. "Away with him! Let him be crucified!" the mob screamed.
Pilate was not finished yet. He still had more cards up his sleeve. He brought Christ into the fort again and had him chastised.
Christ was stripped and his hands were tied to a pillar above his head. A soldier took a whip with lead bits and sharp bones embedded in the leather thongs and began to give Christ forty lashes. The bones and lead bits embed themselves in Christ's flesh only to be torn away. Quickly the Nazarene's back was reduced to shreds.
A purple robe was placed on Jesus' bloody back, a crown of thorns was plaited upon his brow, and the Roman garrison began to mock Jesus saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" Then they slapped Jesus, spat on him, and struck him with their fists.
Pilate took Jesus out to the mob again. "Behold the man!" Pilate exclaimed. He hoped the crowd would see Jesus so bloodied and take pity, feeling he'd suffered enough. The crowd began to chant again their carefully bribed chorus: "Away with him! Crucify him!"
Pilate couldn't believe it. "What! Shall I crucify your king?" "We have no king but Caesar!" they shouted. "But what crime has Jesus committed?" Pilate asked. Then they administered their final manipulative blow to Pilate. "If you let this man go you are no friend of Caesar's," they said.
Pilate looked at the growing crowd. He knew he only had 2,500 soldiers to control 250,000 people. He remembered the golden shields, the aqueduct incident, and Caesar's scathing letter. "What do I do?" Pilate wondered desperately.
Meanwhile Pilate's wife had risen late from a good night's sleep. She had a dream. Jesus was a god or something. He was to be feared. She sent word to her husband, "Have nothing to do with this righteous man, for I have been greatly troubled in my dreams over him."
Pilate read his wife's note and turned pale. He called Jesus back into the fort for a third interrogation. "Who are you? Where are you from? Are you a god?" Jesus was silent.
Pilate took Jesus back out to the crowd at the gate of the fort. "What would you have me do with Jesus?" he asked. "Away with him! Let him be crucified!" the mob screamed.
Pilate called for a basin of water. Publicly, decorously he washed his hands of the entire matter. "His blood be upon your heads, for I find no fault in the man," Pilate said. And the Jews, not knowing what to say, chorused, "His blood be upon us and our children!"
Pilate handed Jesus over to the guard to be crucified. Christ was stripped to a loin cloth, a cross beam was tied to his shoulders, and he was lead away.
Pilate accomplished his final act in the biblical narratives. He wrote the titulus, or list of charges against Jesus. It read, "Jesus Christ, King of the Jews."
The idea, you see, was to make the criminal carry his own gallows through the street to his place of execution. A soldier carried the titulus, the list of charges, for all to see. The whole process became a grand deterrent to the rest of the population.
So Jesus started off on the Via Delorosa, the way of sorrows. The Jews ran ahead to watch Jesus pass and to gloat over the fall of their detractor. Then they read the titulus and got mad. Running back to Pilate who was still trying to eat his breakfast, they called Pilate back to the gate. "What now?" Pilate glowered.
"You wrote the charges wrong! Don't put 'Jesus Christ, King of the Jews,' but 'This man said he is king of the Jews'!"
By this time Pilate had had it. His temper boiled over and he resorted to childish behavior. "What I have written, I have written," he obstinately declared. Finally Pilate refused to be pushed around. Finally on a niggling detail he took a firm stand!
Is There Something of Pilate in Us?
Thus far we've asked, "Who was Pilate?" "What did Pilate do?" Now let us examine ourselves in light of Pilate's biography.
We, too, like Pilate put Jesus on trial in the court of our lives. "Who are you? Where do you come from? Are you the Jewish Messiah? Are you a lord? What is the truth?"
Like Pilate we stand eyeball to eyeball with Jesus. We have to sift through the evidence and try to make sense out of the claims and counterclaims of his life.
Like Pilate we're jittery and insecure in our own reign. We've not finished our sleep, we've not had our coffee, and we're tired of being interrupted. We just want to climb the next rung of the social ladder.
Like Pilate we're perfectly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Jesus and not recognizing God. Like Pilate we can cynically ask Jesus, "What is truth?" and never wait for an answer.
Like Pilate we can give in to the voices that shout the loudest, do the easy thing, follow the crowd, and practice the fine art of self-preservation.
After all, we're not very religious, we bow to no one. But when our wife dreams, we suddenly get very superstitious, wash our hands of the man, and run away. "Do as you please! I've got my own life to lead," we say in excusing ourselves.
If pushed too hard, again like Pilate with the titulus, we stand firm, "What I've written, I've written!" Thus we make mountains out of molehills and molehills out of mountains. We major in minors -- job security, sleeping late, a cup of coffee. But we minor in majors -- "What in truth?"
The word that comes to my mind when I think of Pilate is "nearly." It's a sad word that keeps company with just about, almost, and next time. It smacks of lost opportunities, blown chances, honorable mention, and burned dinners.
How many people are known to have the claim to fame: "nearly"?
He nearly won a gold medal.
He nearly quit drinking.
He nearly made the catch.
He nearly committed his life to Christ.
Pilate nearly pardoned the Prince of Peace. He almost administered justice. He had the choice. The power was his. The army was there to enforce it. He had the facts. He nearly did the correct thing!
Nearly. Such a simple but potent word.
We nearly won. She almost chose not to leave him. We nearly worked it out. I just about believed.
Why? Why is there such a wide gap between "He nearly" and "He did"?
Luke 23:23 (RSV) tells us why:
A third time Pilate said to the crowd, "Why, what evil has he done? I have found in him no crime deserving death; I will therefore chastise him and release him." But they were urgent, demanding with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed.
"Their voices" -- the crowd, the bribed mob, the golden shields, Caesar's threatening letters. "Their voices prevailed."
Pilate's fears prevailed. Pilate's pride prevailed. Pilate's self-preservation reflexes prevailed. Pilate's power-hunger prevailed. Injustice prevailed. Satan prevailed.
There were other voices Pilate could have heard. The voice of Jesus. Three times Pilate stood and looked into Christ Jesus' face. Though Jesus spoke little, even his silence spoke eloquently more than the mob's demands. Yet Pilate refused to listen.
He could have heard the voice of his own conscience, a voice so loud Pilate tried to wash it all away in a basin. "I am guiltless of this innocent man's blood," Pilate murmured.
He could even have heard the voice of his own wife, the voice of her dream: "Have nothing to do with righteous man."
But Pilate refused to stop, to look, to listen.
So his life became a "nearly." He nearly did the right thing. Almost. But not quite.
In Shakespeare's Macbeth the king laments, "Man is a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage, then is seen and heard no more." Christ was tried before Pilate, crucified, thrown into a hasty tomb, but now is risen as Savior and king forever!
Pilate tried Jesus, washed his hands, and went on to have a fine breakfast that morning so long ago. He ruled Palestine for seven more years. Then in 36 AD he mistook a Samaritan crowd of worshipers on Mount Gerazim as a revolt in the making. He sent in his army and wiped out a nearby village in reprisal. Roman Emperor Vitellius recalled Pilate from his governor's post and exiled him. Some say Nero executed him. Some say he was banished to Vienna. Others say Pilate took his own life.
Pilate is immortalized in the simple Apostles' Creed. Every Sunday millions of Christians mention his name before God as they speak of Jesus, "Born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried." His notoriety is to be the only human mentioned in the Creed.
"Nearly." Write it down as Pilate's epitaph. But "nearly" is not in Jesus' vocabulary. With Christ you're either for him or against him. With Jesus nearly must become fully; sometimes has to become always; cynicism must become faith.
Stop! Look! Listen! The slow train of Pontius Pilate's life is passing by. What will you do with Jesus Christ? What verdict will you pronounce of him?
Suggested Prayer
Lord Jesus, I stand before you not to judge you, but to be judged. Forgive my selfish, delusional life. In your mercy, make me your child. Amen.
