Very early in the morning the leading priests and the elders of the people met again to lay plans for putting Jesus to death. Then they bound him, led him away, and took him to Pilate, the Roman governor. [Matthew 27:1-2 (NLT)]
Pontius Pilate was the Roman prefect (or governor) of Judea from 26 to 36 AD. He was responsible for the collection of taxes, managed construction projects, and had the sole authority to order a criminal’s execution. His most important duty, however, was to maintain law and order and, if he couldn’t do it through negotiation, he did it by any means necessary.
Around 50 AD, Philo of Alexandria wrote about Pilate’s “briberies, insults, robberies, outrages and wanton injuries, executions without trial, constantly repeated, ceaseless and supremely grievous cruelty.” Ancient historian Flavius Josephus reported that after Pilate exhausted the Temple treasury to build an aqueduct, the Jews gathered in protest at his use of sacred funds. After sending soldiers dressed as Jews into the crowd of protesters, at his signal, they removed clubs hidden in their cloaks and beat many of the protesters to death. According to Josephus, Pilate eventually was removed from office and sent back to Rome after using excessive force to prevent a suspected Samaritan insurrection. Both historians described Pilate as exceedingly loyal to the emperor, stubborn, and insensitive to the Jews.
Pilate died in 39 AD and some traditions hold that he was executed while others that he committed suicide. The early Christian author Tertullian claimed that Pilate became a follower of Jesus and tried to convert the emperor to Christianity. These claims, however, are mere speculation. That Pilate existed, however, is not. In 1961, while excavating an ancient Roman theatre in Caesarea, a piece of limestone was found that was inscribed with both the emperor’s and Pilate’s names and the words “Prefect of Judea.”
Unable to sentence Jesus to death, the Sanhedrin brought Jesus to the governor. Pilate and the Sanhedrin shared a common interest in maintaining the status quo. Although he knew Jesus had been arrested on trumped up charges, Pilate also knew of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem when people had hailed Him as the long-awaited king. Rome wouldn’t welcome the news of an unauthorized king and, if Pilate allowed Jesus to remain in Judea, the governor would be accused of disloyalty to Rome. Pilate knew Jesus’ death was the expedient political solution for all and, yet, he appeared to be hesitant to take action.
Based on the gospel accounts of Jesus’ trial, some commentators find Pilate indecisive, easily manipulated by Sanhedrin, and weak in his capitulation to the mob. Others, however, disagree with that assessment. That Pilate managed to serve ten years as prefect when the typical term was three tells us he was a man of political acumen and ancient historians described him as headstrong and authoritarian. As governor, Pilate held the power—only he could pronounce capital punishment and he was the one who appointed (or dismissed) the head priest. Since Pilate knew that he would appear weak if he yielded too quickly to the Sanhedrin’s wishes, some scholars suggest that what seemed like hesitation on Pilate’s part was just the governor making the Sanhedrin sweat a little and beg. In the end, Pilate did exactly what he wanted but he’d put the Sanhedrin in his debt by seeming to do them a favor.
We’ll never know whether Pilate was manipulated by the Sanhedrin or he shrewdly manipulated them. Whatever his motives, Pilate knew Jesus was innocent of all charges when he ordered the crucifixion of the Son of God. Putting the blame on the Sanhedrin and the angry mob that shouted “Crucify him!” Pilate disclaimed any responsibility for shedding innocent blood and literally washed his hands of the matter. Whether he voluntarily put Jesus to death or was pressured into his decision, Pilate was a political and moral coward and washing his hands couldn’t absolve him of his guilt.
Being compelled or pressured never releases us of our responsibility to do the right thing. Regardless of circumstance, we must take ownership of our actions. Remember: while we can be tempted to sin, we never can be forced to do it!
Sin is a brat that nobody is willing to own; and many deceive themselves with this, that they shall bear no blame if they can but find any to lay the blame upon; but it is not so easy a thing to transfer the guilt of sin as many think it is. [Matthew Henry]
The Great Sanhedrin was the Supreme council (high court) of the Jews. Formed around 200 BC and modeled after the 70 elders who helped Moses in governing the Israelites, its 71 members consisted of scribes, priests, and elders with the high priest acting as its presiding officer. Along with religious and ritualistic Temple matters, the Sanhedrin addressed secular criminal matters, proceedings in connection with the discovery of a corpse, trials of adulterous wives, tithes, the preparation of Torah Scrolls, and drew up the calendar. As long as the Sanhedrin maintained public order and the Jews kept paying their taxes to Rome, the Romans were content to leave most of the nation’s judicial matters to them. While the Sanhedrin were supposed to administer justice, in the case of Jesus, they were anything but just; in fact, they sought perjured testimony.
Rather than a religious sect, the Herodians were a political group who favored Herodian rule over direct Roman rule. Unlike previous kings of Israel, the Herodian kings were appointed by the Roman emperors. It’s been said that “You can’t tell the players without a scorecard,” and it seems that way with the various Herods we meet in the New Testament. It was Herod the Great, ruler of Judea from 37 to 4 BC, who enlarged the Temple Mount and began rebuilding the second Temple around 20 BC. This Herod was the “king of the Jews” who questioned the Magi and sought to kill the Messiah by slaughtering boys under the age of two. [Jesus was born between 6 and 4 BC.] After Herod’s death, his kingdom was divided among his sons and Herod Antipas became tetrarch of Galilee and Perea. This is the Herod who ruled Galilee throughout Jesus’ ministry—the one who married the wife of his brother (Herod Philip II), beheaded John the Baptist, and sent Jesus back to Pilate.
Along with the Pharisees and Sadducees, the two other major sects or philosophies mentioned by the historian Flavius Josephus were the Zealots and Essenes. Religion and politics were one and the same in ancient Palestine and the Zealots movement originated with Judah/Judas of Galilee and Zadok the Pharisee. Their most basic belief was that any and all means were justified if it led to political and religious liberty for the Jews. When Judah was killed while leading a revolt around 6 AD, his followers fled to the desert and continued in guerilla warfare against the Romans.
If I mentioned the Rotary or Kiwanis clubs, used the acronyms AARP, NRA, or PETA, or referred to the #MeToo or BLM movements, today’s readers would understand my references but they’d be unfamiliar to a reader 2,000 years from now. That’s the difficulty we sometimes encounter when reading the New Testament. While the authors knew who they were talking about, the 21st century American often doesn’t.
If I read a novel simply by searching through it for a few choice sentences, I’d miss the whole plot! I could quote Scarlett’s last words “After all, tomorrow is another day,” but I wouldn’t know why she said it nor would I know why Rhett said he didn’t give a damn! If I picked out just a few sentences in A Tale of Two Cities, I’d never know why Dickens said, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” or even the names of the two cities! While I might be able to quote Santiago’s belief that, ”A man can be destroyed but not defeated,” I wouldn’t know if that proved true without finishing The Old Man and the Sea. Reading only bits and pieces, I’d never know that it was an escaped convict, not Miss Havisham, who was Pip’s benefactor in Great Expectations, that Jane Eyre’s Mr. Rochester had a lunatic wife in the attic, or the identity of the killer in Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None.
Devotions of the Heart 