Pilate
Drama
From My Point Of View
Ten Dialogues On The Passion
Narrator: Pontius Pilate was a black-and-white-sighted man living in a world of many colors and shades of colors. He was a by-the-book man governing a by-the-book people; unfortunately their books had little in common. He was literal, to the point of being stubborn and rash. Those who peopled his province, however, were poetic, emotional, scheming, and skilled at playing the waiting game.
It has been speculated that the name Pontius derived from his fighting for Rome in Pontius, an area located in the Black Sea region. It has been more reasonably argued that Pontius was his family name, that he grew up in Rome, underwent diplomatic training, and climbed the administrative ladder until he was assigned to be the Governor of Judea. Yet, something about his blunt, forceful way of entering into most situations suggests some kind of military background. He was short of tact, long on show of strength.
When he first entered Jerusalem after his appointment by the Emperor, he was accompanied by Roman soldiers bearing banners, which bore the likeness of the emperor on the top of their staffs. That image was blasphemous to the Jews. There was only one deity to be recognized in their holy city, the God of Father Abraham.
Even though an agreement had been reached between Rome and Israel that no image of the Roman deity should appear in Jerusalem, Pilate took matters into his own hands and brought it in anyway. The Jews immediately protested, but Pilate refused to back down.
When Pilate and his entourage went to his home in Caesarea, thousands of protestors followed him, surrounding his home, dogging his every move, shrieking their unhappiness. Finally after four or five days he sent word to them that he would meet with them in the arena. What he didn't tell them was that his soldiers would surround the Jews once they were assembled. When gathered he announced that he would not back down from using the image and if they continued to harass him they would be killed. Then he gave them the order to return to Jerusalem immediately. But they didn't leave. Rather they knelt on the ground, bared their necks, and invited the soldiers to strike them. Not even hard-boiled Pilate could give the order to slay these defenseless rabble-rousers. Pilate, humiliated, ordered the images to be removed.
Pilate: I never did understand these people. They just didn't see how things were. We were the conquerors. We were the ones in charge, but they continued to act as if they could have their own way. Worse yet, Rome went along with their silliness. You have to give Judea a little more rope than some provinces, Rome counseled me, or they'll make your life miserable. Anyway we want to be just and fair conquerors and have our provinces think of us as friends. What poppycock!
Did you know that Jerusalem had no water system when I came? So I built an aqueduct, starting near Bethlehem. Since I found no money to fund the project, I took it from the Temple treasury. Then came such a barrage of complaining, as though I was doing something wrong! If they wouldn't use that money for something like this, by Caesar, I would. Rome didn't like my decision either.
I guess you're here to hear me talk about this man Jesus. Well, it was the Jews once again wanting their own way, goaded by the High Priest, Caiaphas. This time they wanted a teacher, healer, holy something or other put on trial because he was stirring up the people in their thinking. Okay, I said, this is some more of this religious arguing you people are always getting into. Well, I have nothing to do with that, so see to it yourselves. Anyway, I never did get all their babbling straightened out. There was no sense to it. It was yippity-yip this and yippity-yip that. So I had turned to walk away when Caiaphas shouted, "We are not permitted to put any one to death!" (John 18:31b).
Narrator: That stopped Pilate in his tracks. The Jewish governing body, the Sanhedrin, led by Caiaphas, had broad and pervasive powers, but they couldn't condemn someone to death. Such an order would require Pilate's signature. When he turned back to face the assembly and asked why the death penalty, they replied: "We have found this man perverting our nation, forbidding us to pay taxes to the Emperor and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king" (Luke 23:2).
Pausing for a few moments, Pilate turned to an aide and asked him to bring Jesus inside.
Pilate: I could tell as soon as I had laid eyes on him that this was no insurrectionist. He was quiet and though he had been obviously roughed-up, there was no fire or defiance in his eyes. In fact, I didn't know what to make of him. He just stood there. So I asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?" And he answered, "You say so" (Luke 23:3). "Don't you hear what their accusations are?" But he gave no reply. Nothing. He didn't show anger or fear. Nor did he seem withdrawn or sullen. He was simply silent. He was, what would you say, composed -- that's it, composed. I can tell you I don't understand someone like that, but I had to admire him. That's strength. He was no ordinary man.
Now let me tell you something. I knew what Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin were up to. This Jesus, I figured, was getting into their territory. He was drawing crowds and, according to my soldiers, he was even healing people. If there was one thing that Caiaphas didn't want, it was competition. He had a good deal, he was the in-charge person next to me, and the Temple tax certainly gave him a good income. My guess is that he would have killed this Jesus in a minute, but he couldn't because the law forced him to come to me. He couldn't say to me, "I have someone getting in my way and I'd like to have him taken care of." So he presented to me the idea of treason: this man is setting himself up to be king. Well, I returned to Caiaphas and his henchmen -- pardon me -- the Sanhedrin and told them, "I find no case against him" (John 19:40). Then you should have heard them.
Narrator: What Pilate heard was another recital of the charges, many voices speaking at once making it impossible to follow anyone's line of thought very long. When he heard them say that Jesus stirred up the people in Judea and Galilee, and when he further learned that Jesus was a Galilean, he sent him to Herod, for Galilee was in Herod's jurisdiction. How he hoped this would end the matter! Dealing with these people on religious matters was the bane of his existence. As fate would have it -- or was there another force at work? -- Herod found no reason to deal with him and returned him to Pilate, but not before his soldiers had abused and mocked Jesus, striking and belittling a man who didn't retaliate.
Pilate: At this time of year we would free one man from prison, of the people's choosing. Remembering that I should negotiate with these people as Rome wanted, why not offer them Jesus as that man? They were way ahead of me. At my offer of Jesus, they countered with Barabbas, a real insurrectionist, to be set free. I couldn't believe it. Several times we went back and forth, but they were well prepared and organized and kept calling for Barabbas' release. "But what about this man?" I asked them as I gestured toward Jesus. And they simply cried, "Crucify, crucify him" (Luke 23:21).
Then my wife sent me a message in the midst of all this contention that she had had a dream about this innocent man and I should have nothing to do with him. Oh, great!
Once again I engaged this Jesus in private conversation and pointed out that I had the power of choosing life or death for him.
He replied, "You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above" (John 19:11).
Above? Above? Is that where his kingdom is? He told me it wasn't from here. "If it was," he said, "my followers would be fighting to set me free." So where is it above? On a mountain? In the sky? With the gods of Rome?
Well, I couldn't get into that mystery. I had to get something nailed down so I could face Caiaphas. I put it to him that he must be a king then.
And he replied, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice" (John 18:37, 38).
"What is the truth?" I asked him. Why do these people talk in circles? Why does "yes" end up sounding like "no" and "no" sounding like "yes"? If he would have just played along with me, we could have set Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin back on their heels.
Narrator: Pilate again reported to the priests that he could not find Jesus guilty as charged. He announced that he would simply have him flogged and released. Screaming voices immediately united and rolled over him, "Crucify him, crucify him," like seventy-foot waves beating on a foundering ship. Pilate stood in defiance attempting to stare the crowd down. He knew their strategy. He knew the power move they were employing, but he couldn't think of a counter-strategy, except to be obstinate. Who knows, he might have won in the battle between shouts and stares, save for one piercing voice that rose above the clatter, "If you release this man you are no friend of the Emperor. Everyone who claims to be king sets himself against the Emperor" (John 19:12).
Pilate: That was their ultimate weapon. If I didn't go along with their madness, they'd get a message to Rome that I had failed to achieve an agreement again and I'd not only been insensitive, but released a man who was clearly Caesar's enemy. I couldn't defend myself, the fact was I was on probation because of earlier mishaps. I knew they would have a better reception in Rome than I. I had failed Rome too often. I was vulnerable. I couldn't risk the challenge. So they played their trump card and I had no choice but to go along. I ordered Jesus flogged as was required, and handed him over to be crucified.
I also ordered a basin of water and washed my hands, shouting to the crowd, "I am innocent of this man's blood, see to it yourselves" (Matthew 27:24c). They laughed as they said, "[Let it] be on us." They had won and that's all they cared about. Winning is everything, isn't it?
Underneath I was so angry to have been out-maneuvered, to be made a victim of my past. I searched for a way to strike back. I ordered the sign, "Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews" (John 19:19), to be put on the cross. When the Jews objected, wanting me to change the wording, I yelled at them, "What I have written, I have written" (John 19:22). Then they came to me saying they needed to bury Jesus before sundown, or the celebration of the Passover would be sullied or delayed. I sent word to have a centurion make sure he was dead before they removed him from the cross. They weren't going to bury him alive behind my back. The priests later came to me wanting my soldiers to seal the tomb. They were fearful that someone might steal his body, and then Jesus' people could claim he had risen from the dead, as he claimed he would. Well, now, I told them, that's your worry. See to it yourselves. Of all the nerve.
Narrator: That Pilate didn't anticipate the threat of being reported to Rome, in part reveals that he didn't see his blunders as his blunders, but as Rome's bleeding heart "just and fair" policy. In fact, his military-mindedness continued on past the trial of Jesus.
There was a religious disruption in a Samaritan village. His quick assessment of the situation convinced him it was a revolt against Roman rule. His troops massacred all the villagers. That heinous, unwarranted action marked the end of his days as Governor. Emperor Vitellis removed him from office.
Addendum: His wife, Claudia Procula, who warned Pilate not to get involved with Jesus, had a maid who was one of Jesus' followers. Later, Claudia was canonized by the Greek Orthodox Church for becoming a follower of Jesus. She was a granddaughter of Emperor Augustus and may have played a role in Pilate's being appointed to Judea.
What happened to Pilate? Some accounts say he was tried in Rome and imprisoned. Others report he was beheaded by Nero, or committed suicide when he knew he was to be beheaded. His body, or maybe it was just his head, was buried on Mount Pilatus above Lake Lucerne in Switzerland, casting an eerie spell over that place.
One researcher reported that the Abyssinian Church made Pilate a saint on the rather sparse evidence that he sought Jesus' forgiveness just before his death. We may suspect that this is the wishful thinking of early Christians who couldn't imagine anyone being thrust so intimately into the Savior's life without becoming a believer.
It has been speculated that the name Pontius derived from his fighting for Rome in Pontius, an area located in the Black Sea region. It has been more reasonably argued that Pontius was his family name, that he grew up in Rome, underwent diplomatic training, and climbed the administrative ladder until he was assigned to be the Governor of Judea. Yet, something about his blunt, forceful way of entering into most situations suggests some kind of military background. He was short of tact, long on show of strength.
When he first entered Jerusalem after his appointment by the Emperor, he was accompanied by Roman soldiers bearing banners, which bore the likeness of the emperor on the top of their staffs. That image was blasphemous to the Jews. There was only one deity to be recognized in their holy city, the God of Father Abraham.
Even though an agreement had been reached between Rome and Israel that no image of the Roman deity should appear in Jerusalem, Pilate took matters into his own hands and brought it in anyway. The Jews immediately protested, but Pilate refused to back down.
When Pilate and his entourage went to his home in Caesarea, thousands of protestors followed him, surrounding his home, dogging his every move, shrieking their unhappiness. Finally after four or five days he sent word to them that he would meet with them in the arena. What he didn't tell them was that his soldiers would surround the Jews once they were assembled. When gathered he announced that he would not back down from using the image and if they continued to harass him they would be killed. Then he gave them the order to return to Jerusalem immediately. But they didn't leave. Rather they knelt on the ground, bared their necks, and invited the soldiers to strike them. Not even hard-boiled Pilate could give the order to slay these defenseless rabble-rousers. Pilate, humiliated, ordered the images to be removed.
Pilate: I never did understand these people. They just didn't see how things were. We were the conquerors. We were the ones in charge, but they continued to act as if they could have their own way. Worse yet, Rome went along with their silliness. You have to give Judea a little more rope than some provinces, Rome counseled me, or they'll make your life miserable. Anyway we want to be just and fair conquerors and have our provinces think of us as friends. What poppycock!
Did you know that Jerusalem had no water system when I came? So I built an aqueduct, starting near Bethlehem. Since I found no money to fund the project, I took it from the Temple treasury. Then came such a barrage of complaining, as though I was doing something wrong! If they wouldn't use that money for something like this, by Caesar, I would. Rome didn't like my decision either.
I guess you're here to hear me talk about this man Jesus. Well, it was the Jews once again wanting their own way, goaded by the High Priest, Caiaphas. This time they wanted a teacher, healer, holy something or other put on trial because he was stirring up the people in their thinking. Okay, I said, this is some more of this religious arguing you people are always getting into. Well, I have nothing to do with that, so see to it yourselves. Anyway, I never did get all their babbling straightened out. There was no sense to it. It was yippity-yip this and yippity-yip that. So I had turned to walk away when Caiaphas shouted, "We are not permitted to put any one to death!" (John 18:31b).
Narrator: That stopped Pilate in his tracks. The Jewish governing body, the Sanhedrin, led by Caiaphas, had broad and pervasive powers, but they couldn't condemn someone to death. Such an order would require Pilate's signature. When he turned back to face the assembly and asked why the death penalty, they replied: "We have found this man perverting our nation, forbidding us to pay taxes to the Emperor and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king" (Luke 23:2).
Pausing for a few moments, Pilate turned to an aide and asked him to bring Jesus inside.
Pilate: I could tell as soon as I had laid eyes on him that this was no insurrectionist. He was quiet and though he had been obviously roughed-up, there was no fire or defiance in his eyes. In fact, I didn't know what to make of him. He just stood there. So I asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?" And he answered, "You say so" (Luke 23:3). "Don't you hear what their accusations are?" But he gave no reply. Nothing. He didn't show anger or fear. Nor did he seem withdrawn or sullen. He was simply silent. He was, what would you say, composed -- that's it, composed. I can tell you I don't understand someone like that, but I had to admire him. That's strength. He was no ordinary man.
Now let me tell you something. I knew what Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin were up to. This Jesus, I figured, was getting into their territory. He was drawing crowds and, according to my soldiers, he was even healing people. If there was one thing that Caiaphas didn't want, it was competition. He had a good deal, he was the in-charge person next to me, and the Temple tax certainly gave him a good income. My guess is that he would have killed this Jesus in a minute, but he couldn't because the law forced him to come to me. He couldn't say to me, "I have someone getting in my way and I'd like to have him taken care of." So he presented to me the idea of treason: this man is setting himself up to be king. Well, I returned to Caiaphas and his henchmen -- pardon me -- the Sanhedrin and told them, "I find no case against him" (John 19:40). Then you should have heard them.
Narrator: What Pilate heard was another recital of the charges, many voices speaking at once making it impossible to follow anyone's line of thought very long. When he heard them say that Jesus stirred up the people in Judea and Galilee, and when he further learned that Jesus was a Galilean, he sent him to Herod, for Galilee was in Herod's jurisdiction. How he hoped this would end the matter! Dealing with these people on religious matters was the bane of his existence. As fate would have it -- or was there another force at work? -- Herod found no reason to deal with him and returned him to Pilate, but not before his soldiers had abused and mocked Jesus, striking and belittling a man who didn't retaliate.
Pilate: At this time of year we would free one man from prison, of the people's choosing. Remembering that I should negotiate with these people as Rome wanted, why not offer them Jesus as that man? They were way ahead of me. At my offer of Jesus, they countered with Barabbas, a real insurrectionist, to be set free. I couldn't believe it. Several times we went back and forth, but they were well prepared and organized and kept calling for Barabbas' release. "But what about this man?" I asked them as I gestured toward Jesus. And they simply cried, "Crucify, crucify him" (Luke 23:21).
Then my wife sent me a message in the midst of all this contention that she had had a dream about this innocent man and I should have nothing to do with him. Oh, great!
Once again I engaged this Jesus in private conversation and pointed out that I had the power of choosing life or death for him.
He replied, "You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above" (John 19:11).
Above? Above? Is that where his kingdom is? He told me it wasn't from here. "If it was," he said, "my followers would be fighting to set me free." So where is it above? On a mountain? In the sky? With the gods of Rome?
Well, I couldn't get into that mystery. I had to get something nailed down so I could face Caiaphas. I put it to him that he must be a king then.
And he replied, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice" (John 18:37, 38).
"What is the truth?" I asked him. Why do these people talk in circles? Why does "yes" end up sounding like "no" and "no" sounding like "yes"? If he would have just played along with me, we could have set Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin back on their heels.
Narrator: Pilate again reported to the priests that he could not find Jesus guilty as charged. He announced that he would simply have him flogged and released. Screaming voices immediately united and rolled over him, "Crucify him, crucify him," like seventy-foot waves beating on a foundering ship. Pilate stood in defiance attempting to stare the crowd down. He knew their strategy. He knew the power move they were employing, but he couldn't think of a counter-strategy, except to be obstinate. Who knows, he might have won in the battle between shouts and stares, save for one piercing voice that rose above the clatter, "If you release this man you are no friend of the Emperor. Everyone who claims to be king sets himself against the Emperor" (John 19:12).
Pilate: That was their ultimate weapon. If I didn't go along with their madness, they'd get a message to Rome that I had failed to achieve an agreement again and I'd not only been insensitive, but released a man who was clearly Caesar's enemy. I couldn't defend myself, the fact was I was on probation because of earlier mishaps. I knew they would have a better reception in Rome than I. I had failed Rome too often. I was vulnerable. I couldn't risk the challenge. So they played their trump card and I had no choice but to go along. I ordered Jesus flogged as was required, and handed him over to be crucified.
I also ordered a basin of water and washed my hands, shouting to the crowd, "I am innocent of this man's blood, see to it yourselves" (Matthew 27:24c). They laughed as they said, "[Let it] be on us." They had won and that's all they cared about. Winning is everything, isn't it?
Underneath I was so angry to have been out-maneuvered, to be made a victim of my past. I searched for a way to strike back. I ordered the sign, "Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews" (John 19:19), to be put on the cross. When the Jews objected, wanting me to change the wording, I yelled at them, "What I have written, I have written" (John 19:22). Then they came to me saying they needed to bury Jesus before sundown, or the celebration of the Passover would be sullied or delayed. I sent word to have a centurion make sure he was dead before they removed him from the cross. They weren't going to bury him alive behind my back. The priests later came to me wanting my soldiers to seal the tomb. They were fearful that someone might steal his body, and then Jesus' people could claim he had risen from the dead, as he claimed he would. Well, now, I told them, that's your worry. See to it yourselves. Of all the nerve.
Narrator: That Pilate didn't anticipate the threat of being reported to Rome, in part reveals that he didn't see his blunders as his blunders, but as Rome's bleeding heart "just and fair" policy. In fact, his military-mindedness continued on past the trial of Jesus.
There was a religious disruption in a Samaritan village. His quick assessment of the situation convinced him it was a revolt against Roman rule. His troops massacred all the villagers. That heinous, unwarranted action marked the end of his days as Governor. Emperor Vitellis removed him from office.
Addendum: His wife, Claudia Procula, who warned Pilate not to get involved with Jesus, had a maid who was one of Jesus' followers. Later, Claudia was canonized by the Greek Orthodox Church for becoming a follower of Jesus. She was a granddaughter of Emperor Augustus and may have played a role in Pilate's being appointed to Judea.
What happened to Pilate? Some accounts say he was tried in Rome and imprisoned. Others report he was beheaded by Nero, or committed suicide when he knew he was to be beheaded. His body, or maybe it was just his head, was buried on Mount Pilatus above Lake Lucerne in Switzerland, casting an eerie spell over that place.
One researcher reported that the Abyssinian Church made Pilate a saint on the rather sparse evidence that he sought Jesus' forgiveness just before his death. We may suspect that this is the wishful thinking of early Christians who couldn't imagine anyone being thrust so intimately into the Savior's life without becoming a believer.
