"Personalities of the Passion -- Pilate"

BACKGROUND: Pilate was a Roman Official. Back then, the Roman Court was responsible for civil trials and judgments. The problem in the trial of Jesus was this: since the religious leaders brought charges, the trial should be before the religious court, the Sanhedrin. However, the charge that was leveled had to do with the claim that Jesus was “king of the Jews”, which brought it into the civil jurisdiction. Fact was, everyone from Herod on down wanted to “pass the buck”.

Pilate seems to be more interested in not getting himself in trouble than in pronouncing a fair verdict. His actions are determined by fear more than faithfulness. He satisfies the crowds. He gives in to the religious elite. He sends Jesus to die.

Mark’s Gospel does not include the more familiar image of Pilate washing his hands of the whole affair. Mark is clear, though, that Pilate sees an innocent man and gives in to the forces which will lead to Jesus’ death.

To tell Pilate’s story we’ve shared his thoughts through a fictional “Facebook” account. The date is three months after Jesus’ resurrection.

Facebook Friends:

Three months have passed since that fateful day when I handed Jesus over to be crucified. I gave into the cries of the crowd. I was more concerned about my standing with the governmental authorities than I was for the truth. I did see the truth, you know. I did see that this man was innocent. It was clear to me that the “kingdom” that he was talking about had little to do with earthly power, or any power like that of Rome.
But I felt so helpless to act any differently.

I thought that I could wash my hands (literally and figuratively) of the whole thing. I thought that by the time he was gone, I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. I thought maybe my wife would stop having dreams about how I ought to avoid the whole thing.

But all these days later, whenever I see a bowl of water, whenever I wash my hands, whenever I bathe, I see it all over again

Do you know what I see? I see his face. I see his eyes. His eyes looked right through me. It was as if I was on trial, not him. It was as if he was searching me for my true story. It was as if he were inviting me to do something more, perhaps even to do the right thing.

My position as Governor meant that I held the power. I did what I could, under the circumstances. Unfortunately innocent men are put to death all the time.

What I can’t understand is why I feel so dirty. Even after the ritual cleansing, even after my shower, I just don’t feel clean, not like I did before. I simply can’t pretend any more that everything in my world is clean and orderly and all together.

There is something about all of this that makes me wish I had decided differently. I keep being drawn back to re-examine how my choices are party to other’s cruelty and petty concerns. I keep thinking that I aided and abetted the Sanhedrin, who had their own agenda in this whole fiasco.

Truth is, they, like me, wanted to keep their positions secure. This peasant had enough going for him to leave us all quaking in our boots, clinging to our privilege. Maybe that is what he was saying with his eyes. Maybe that is why he looked at us as though we didn’t have the big picture of what was happening. I knew so little. I was so naïve. I was clueless to his mission.

Why can’t I get him out of my mind? Why do the events of that day leave me questioning the meaning of “justice” for the slave and for people on the fringes?

He was a danger, you know. He was a subversive in every sense of the word. It is better that he is dead. That’s my rationalization.

But, really I’m just kidding myself. Even the guard I posted at his tomb was helpless, as helpless as me.

You see, truth will not stay buried. Truth that makes you look at the world with eyes wide open always endures. I wasn’t ready for it. People weren’t ready for it. But it spoke when the grave was found to be empty.

I’m sure that’s why my hands still feel bloody. This man was all truth. This man was all love. This man was innocent and I failed to take responsibility for what I could plainly see.

I will never again be able to feel like my hands are completely clean. Even harder now that I’ve seen him come alive from that tomb I tried to guard. And I’ve even heard that he ascended back to heaven in a cloud of glory.

Facebook friends, here’s another question, a question for you. Where do you want to wash your hands from involvement in the life of Jesus?

I think there are places where you, like me, may want to wash away the guilt that calls you to the truth. I think there are times where you would, like me, want to avoid the suffering of Jesus in our world. I have to wonder if there are places and times where you have a hard time seeing the full truth of Jesus.

Posted by “The Hand Washer”, 4:35 p.m. G.M.T. near Jerusalem via my i-scroll

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