Read Ebook: The Trial of Jesus from a Lawyer's Standpoint Vol. 2 (of 2) The Roman Trial by Chandler Walter M Walter Marion

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ernor. In a cynical and sarcastic mood, Pilate turned to Jesus and asked: "What is truth?"

This pointed question was the legitimate offspring of the soul of Pilate and a natural product of the Roman civilization of his age. It was not asked with any real desire to know the truth; for he turned to leave the palace before an answer could be given. It was simply a blank response born of mental wretchedness and doubt. If prompted by any silent yearning for a knowledge of the truth, his conduct indicated clearly that he did not hope to have that longing satisfied by the words of the humble prisoner in his charge. "What is truth?" An instinctive utterance this, prompted by previous sad reflections upon the wrecks of philosophy in search of truth.

What did Pilate think of Jesus? He evidently regarded Him as an amiable enthusiast, a harmless religious fanatic from whom Caesar had nothing to fear. While alone with Jesus in the palace, he must have reasoned thus with himself, silently and contemptuously: The mob outside tells me that this man is Rome's enemy. Foolish thought! We know who Caesar's enemies are. We have seen and heard and felt the enemies of Rome--barbarians from beyond the Danube and the Rhine--great strong men, who can drive a javelin not only through a man, but a horse, as well. These are Caesar's enemies. This strange and melancholy man, whose subjects are mere abstract truths, and whose kingdom is beyond the skies, can be no enemy of Caesar.

Believing this, he went out to the rabble and pronounced a verdict of acquittal: "I find in him no fault at all."

Pilate had tried and acquitted Jesus. Why did he not release Him, and, if need be, protect Him with his cohort from the assaults of the Jews? Mankind has asked for nearly two thousand years why a Roman, with the blood of a Roman in him, with the glorious prestige and stern authority of the Roman empire at his back, with a Roman legion at his command, did not have the courage to do the high Roman act. Pilate was a moral and intellectual coward of arrant type. This is his proper characterization and a fitting answer to the world's eternal question.

The Jews heard his sentence of acquittal in sullen silence. Desperately resolved to prevent His release, they began at once to frame new accusations.

"And they were the more fierce, saying, He stirreth up the people, teaching throughout all Jewry, beginning from Galilee to this place."

This charge was intended by the Jews to serve a double purpose: to strengthen the general accusation of high treason recorded by St. Luke; and to embitter and poison the mind of the judge against the prisoner by telling Pilate that Jesus was from Galilee. In ancient times Galilee was noted as the hotbed of riot and sedition. The Galileans were brave and hardy mountaineers who feared neither Rome nor Judea. As champions of Jewish nationality, they were the fiercest opponents of Roman rule; and in the final catastrophe of Jewish history they were the last to be driven from the battlements of Jerusalem. As advocates and preservers of the purity of the primitive Jewish faith, they were relentless foes of Pharisaic and Sadducean hypocrisy as it was manifested by the Judean keepers of the Temple. The Galileans were hated, therefore, by both Romans and Judeans; and the Sanhedrists believed that Pilate would make short work of Jesus if he learned that the prisoner was from Galilee. But a different train of thought was excited in the mind of the Roman governor. He was thinking about one thing, and they about another. Pilate showed himself throughout the trial a craven coward and contemptible timeserver. From beginning to end, his conduct was a record of cowardice and subterfuge. He was constantly looking for loopholes of escape. His heart's desire was to satisfy at once both his conscience and the mob. The mention of Galilee was a ray of light that fell across the troubled path of the cowardly and vacillating judge. He believed that he saw an avenue of escape. He asked the Jews if Jesus was a Galilean. An affirmative reply was given. Pilate then determined to rid himself of responsibility by sending Jesus to be tried by the governor of the province to which He belonged. He felt that fortune favored his design; for Herod, Tetrarch of Galilee, was at that very moment in Jerusalem in attendance upon the Passover feast. He acted at once upon the happy idea; and, under the escort of a detachment of the Praetorian Cohort, Jesus was led away to the palace of the Maccabees where Herod was accustomed to stop when he came to the Holy City.

JESUS BEFORE HEROD

It was still early morning when Jesus, guarded by Roman soldiers and surrounded by a jeering, scoffing, raging multitude of Jews, was conducted to the palace of the Maccabees on the slope of Zion, the official residence of Herod when he came to Jerusalem to attend the sacred festivals. This place was to the northeast of the palace of Herod and only a few streets distant from it. The journey must have lasted therefore only a few minutes.

The son of a father who was ten times married and had murdered many of his wives; the murderer himself of John the Baptist; the slave of a lewd and wicked woman--what better could be expected than a cruel, crafty, worthless character, whose attributes were those of the fox?

But why was Jesus sent to Herod? Doubtless because Pilate wished to shift the responsibility from his own shoulders, as a Roman judge, to those of the Galilean Tetrarch. A subsidiary purpose may have been to conciliate Herod, with whom, history says, he had had a quarrel. The cause of the trouble between them is not known. Many believe that the murder of the Galileans while sacrificing in the Temple was the origin of the unpleasantness. Others contend that this occurrence was the result and not the cause of the quarrel between Pilate and Herod. Still others believe that the question of the occupancy of the magnificent palace of Herod engendered ill feeling between the rival potentates. Herod had all the love of gorgeous architecture and luxurious living that characterized the whole Herodian family. And, besides, he doubtless felt that he should be permitted to occupy the palace of his ancestors on the occasion of his visits to Jerusalem. But Pilate would naturally object to this, as he was the representative of almighty Rome in a conquered province and could not afford to give way, in a matter of palatial residence, to a petty local prince. But, whatever the cause, the unfriendliness between them undoubtedly had much to do with the transfer of Jesus from the Praetorium to the palace of the Maccabees.

"And when Herod saw Jesus, he was exceeding glad: for he was desirous to see him for a long season, because he had heard many things of him; and he hoped to have seen some miracle done by him."

This passage of Scripture throws much light upon Herod's opinion and estimate of Jesus. Fearing that he was the successor and imitator of Judas the Gaulonite, Herod at first sought to drive Him from his province by sending spies to warn Him to flee. The courageous and contemptuous reply of Jesus, in which he styled Herod "that fox," put an end to further attempts at intimidation.

The notions of the Galilean Tetrarch concerning the Galilean Prophet seem to have changed from time to time. Herod had once regarded Jesus with feelings of superstitious dread and awe, as the risen Baptist. But these apprehensions had now partially passed away, and he had come to look upon the Christ as a clever impostor whose claims to kingship and Messiahship were mere vulgar dreams. For three years, Galilee had been ringing with the fame of the Miracle-worker; but Herod had never seen his famous subject. Now was his chance. And he anticipated a rare occasion of magic and merriment. He doubtless regarded Jesus as a clever magician whose performance would make a rich and racy programme for an hour's amusement of his court. This was no doubt his dominant feeling regarding the Nazarene. But it is nevertheless very probable that his Idumaean cowardice and superstition still conjured images of a drunken debauch, the dance of death, and the bloody head; and connected them with the strange man now before him.

No doubt he felt highly pleased and gratified to have Jesus sent to him. The petty and obsequious vassal king was caught in Pilate's snare of flattery. The sending of a noted prisoner to his judgment seat by a Roman procurator was no ordinary compliment. But Herod was at once too serious and too frivolous to assume jurisdiction of any charges against this prisoner, who had offended both the religious and secular powers of Palestine. To condemn Jesus would be to incur the ill will and resentment of his many followers in his own province of Galilee. Besides, he had already suffered keenly from dread and apprehension, caused by the association of the names of John and Jesus, and he had learned that from the blood of one murdered prophet would spring the message and mission of another still more powerful and majestic. He was, therefore, unwilling to embroil himself and his dominions with the heavenly powers by condemning their earthly representatives.

Again, though weak, crafty and vacillating, he still had enough of the cunning of the fox not to wish to excite the enmity of Caesar by a false judgment upon a noted character whose devoted followers might, at any moment, send an embassy to Rome to make serious and successful charges to the Emperor. He afterwards lost his place as Tetrarch through the suspicions of Caligula, who received news from Galilee that Herod was conspiring against him. The premonitions of that unhappy day probably now filled the mind of the Idumaean.

On the other hand, Herod was too frivolous to conduct from beginning to end a solemn judicial proceeding. He evidently intended to ignore the pretensions of Jesus, and to convert the occasion of His coming into a festive hour in which languor and drowsiness would be banished from his court. He had heard much of the miracles of the prisoner in his presence. Rumor had wafted to his ears strange accounts of marvelous feats. One messenger had brought news that the Prophet of Nazareth had raised from the dead a man named Lazarus from Bethany, and also the son of the widow of Nain. Another had declared that the laws of nature suspended themselves on occasion at His behest; that when He walked out on the sea, He did not sink; and that He stilled the tempests with a mere motion of His hand. Still another reported that the mighty magician could take mud from the pool and restore sight; that a woman, ill for many months, need only touch the hem of His garment to be made whole again; and that if He but touched the flesh of a leper, it would become as tender and beautiful as that of a new-born babe. These reports had doubtless been received by Herod with sneers and mocking. But he gathered from them that Jesus was a clever juggler whose powers of entertainment were very fine; and this was sufficient for him and his court.

"Then he questioned with him in many words; but he answered him nothing."

Herod thus opened the examination of Jesus by interrogating Him at length. The Master treated his insolent questions with contemptuous scorn and withering silence. No doubt this conduct of the lowly Nazarene greatly surprised and nettled the supercilious Idumaean. He had imagined that Jesus would be delighted to give an exhibition of His skill amidst royal surroundings. He could not conceive that a peasant would observe the contempt of silence in the presence of a prince. He found it difficult, therefore, to explain this silence. He probably mistook it for stupidity, and construed it to mean that the pretensions of Jesus were fraudulent. He doubtless believed that his captive would not work a miracle because He could not; and that in His failure to do so were exploded His claims to kingship and Messiahship. At all events, he was evidently deeply perplexed; and this perplexity of the Tetrarch, in its turn, only served to anger the accusing priests who stood by.

"And the chief priests and scribes stood and vehemently accused him."

This verse from St. Luke clearly reveals the difference in the temper and purposes of the Sanhedrists on the one hand, and of Herod on the other. The latter merely intended to make of the case of Jesus a farcical proceeding in which the jugglery of the prisoner would break the monotony of a day and banish all care during an idle hour. The priests, on the other hand, were desperately bent upon a serious outcome of the affair, as the words "vehemently accused" suggest. In the face of their repeated accusations, Jesus continued to maintain a noble and majestic silence.

Modern criticism has sought to analyze and to explain the behavior of Christ at the court of Herod. "How comes it," asks Strauss, "that Jesus, not only the Jesus without sin of the orthodox school, but also the Jesus who bowed to the constituted authorities, who says 'Give unto Caesar that which is Caesar's'--how comes it that he refuses the answer due to Herod?" The trouble with this question is that it falsely assumes that there was an "answer due to Herod." In the first place, it must be considered that Herod was not Caesar. In the next place, we must remember that St. Luke, the sole Evangelist who records the event, does not explain the character of the questions asked by Herod. Strauss himself says that they "displayed simple curiosity." Admitting that Jesus acknowledged the jurisdiction of Herod, was He compelled to answer irrelevant and impertinent questions? We do not know what these questions were. But we have reason to believe that, coming from Herod, they were not such as Jesus was called upon to answer. It is very probable that the prisoner knew His legal rights; and that He did not believe that Herod, sitting at Jerusalem, a place without his province, was judicially empowered to examine Him. If He was not legally compelled to answer, we are not surprised that Jesus refused to do so as a matter of graciousness and accommodation; for we must not forget that the Man-God felt that He was being questioned by a vulgar animal of the most cunning type.

But what is certain from the Scriptural context is that Herod felt chagrined and mortified at his failure to evoke from Jesus any response. He was enraged that his plans had been foiled by one of his own subjects, a simple Galilean peasant. To show his resentment, he then resorted to mockery and abuse.

"And Herod with his men of war set him at nought, and mocked him, and arrayed him in a gorgeous robe, and sent him again to Pilate."

We are not informed by St. Luke what special charge the priests brought against Jesus at the judgment seat of Herod. He simply says that they "stood and vehemently accused him." But we are justified in inferring that they repeated substantially the same accusations which had been made before Pilate, that He had claimed to be Christ a King. This conclusion best explains the mockery which they sought to heap upon Him; for in ancient times, when men became candidates for office, they put on white gowns to notify the people of their candidacy. Again, Tacitus assures us that white garments were the peculiar dress of illustrious persons; and that the tribunes and consuls wore them when marching before the eagles of the legions into battle.

The meaning of the mockery of Herod was simply this: Behold O Pilate, the illustrious candidate for the kingship of the Jews! Behold the imperial gown of the royal peasant pretender!

The appearance before Herod resulted only in the humiliation of Jesus and the reconciliation of Pilate and Herod.

"And the same day Pilate and Herod were made friends together: for before they were at enmity between themselves."

JESUS AGAIN BEFORE PILATE

The sending of Jesus to Herod had not ended the case; and Pilate was undoubtedly very bitterly disappointed. He had hoped that the Galilean Tetrarch would assume complete jurisdiction and dispose finally of the matter. On the contrary, Herod simply mocked and brutalized the prisoner and had him sent back to Pilate. The Roman construed the action of the Idumaean to mean an acquittal, and he so stated to the Jews.

"And Pilate, when he had called together the chief priests and the rulers and the people, Said unto them, Ye have brought this man unto me, as one that perverteth the people: and, behold, I, having examined him before you, have found no fault in this man touching those things whereof ye accuse him: No, nor yet Herod: for I sent you to him; and, lo, nothing worthy of death is done unto him. I will therefore chastise him, and release him."

The proposal to scourge the prisoner was the second of those criminal and cowardly subterfuges through which Pilate sought at once to satisfy his conscience and the demands of the mob. The chastisement was to be a sop to the rage of the rabble, a sort of salve to the wounded pride of the priests who were disappointed that no sentence of death had been imposed. The release was intended as a tribute to justice, as a soothing balm and an atoning sacrifice to his own outraged sense of justice. The injustice of this monstrous proposal was not merely contemptible, it was execrable. If Jesus was guilty, He should have been punished; if innocent, he should have been set free and protected from the assaults of the Jews.

The offer of scourging first and then the release of the prisoner was indignantly rejected by the rabble. In his desperation, Pilate thought of another loophole of escape.

The Evangelists tell us that it was a custom upon Passover day to release to the people any single prisoner that they desired. St. Luke asserts that the governor was under an obligation to do so. Whether this custom was of Roman or Hebrew origin is not certainly known. Many New Testament interpreters have seen in the custom a symbol of the liberty and deliverance realized by Israel in its passage from Egypt at the time of the first great Passover. Others have traced this custom to the Roman practice of releasing a slave at the Lectisternia, or banquets to the gods. Aside from its origin, it is interesting as an illustration of a universal principle in enlightened jurisprudence of lodging somewhere, usually with the chief executive of a race or nation, a power of pardon which serves as an extinction of the penal sanction. This merciful principle is a pathetic acknowledgment of the weakness and imperfection of all human schemes of justice.

Pilate resolved to escape from his confusion and embarrassment by delivering Jesus to the people, who happened to appear in great numbers at the very moment when Christ returned from Herod. The multitude had come to demand the usual Passover deliverance of a prisoner. The arrival of the crowd of disinterested strangers was inopportune for the priests and elders who were clamoring for the life of the prisoner in their midst. They marked with keen discernment the resolution of the governor to release Jesus. They were equal to the emergency, and began to whisper among the crowd that Barabbas should be asked.

"And they had then a notable prisoner, called Barabbas. Therefore when they were gathered together, Pilate said unto them, Whom will ye that I release unto you? Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ? For he knew that for envy they had delivered him."

Pilate believed that the newly arrived multitude would be free from the envy of the priests, and that they would be satisfied with Jesus whom they had, a few days before, welcomed into Jerusalem with shouts of joy. When they demanded Barabbas, he still believed that if he offered them the alternative choice of a robber and a prophet, they would choose the latter.

"But the chief priests and elders persuaded the multitude that they should ask Barabbas, and destroy Jesus. The governor answered and said unto them, Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you? They said, Barabbas. Pilate saith unto them, What shall I do then with Jesus which is called the Christ? They all say unto him, Let him be crucified."

Amidst the tumult provoked by the angry passions of the mob, a messenger arrived from his wife bearing news that filled the soul of Pilate with superstitious dread. Claudia had had a dream of strange and ill-boding character.

"When he was set down on the judgment seat, his wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just man: For I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him."

This dream of Pilate's wife is nothing strange. Profane history mentions many similar ones. Calpurnia, Caesar's wife, forewarned him in a dream not to go to the senate house; and the greatest of the Romans fell beneath the daggers of Casca and Brutus, because he failed to heed the admonition of his wife.

In the apocryphal report of Pilate to the emperor Tiberius of the facts of the crucifixion, the words of warning sent by Claudia are given: "Beware said she to me, beware and touch not that man, for he is holy. Last night I saw him in a vision. He was walking on the waters. He was flying on the wings of the winds. He spoke to the tempest and to the fishes of the lake; all were obedient to him. Behold! the torrent in Mount Kedron flows with blood, the statues of Caesar are filled with the filth of Gemoniae, the columns of the Interium have given away and the sun is veiled in mourning like a vestal in the tomb. O, Pilate, evil awaits thee if thou wilt not listen to the prayer of thy wife. Dread the curse of the Roman Senate, dread the powers of Caesar."

This noble and lofty language, this tender and pathetic speech, may appear strange to those who remember the hereditary stigma of the woman. If this dream was sent from heaven, the recollection is forced upon us that the medium of its communication was the illegitimate child of a lewd woman. But then her character was probably not worse than that of Mary Magdalene, who was very dear to the Master and has been canonized not only by the church, but by the reverence of the world.

It is certain, however, that the dream of Claudia had no determining effect upon the conduct of Pilate. Resolution and irresolution alternately controlled him. Fear and superstition were uppermost in both mind and heart. The Jews beheld with anxious and discerning glance the manifestation of the deep anguish of his soul. They feared that the governor was about to pronounce a final judgment of acquittal. Exhibiting fierce faces and frenzied feelings, they moved closer to him and exclaimed: "We have a law, and by our law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God."

Despairing of convicting Jesus on a political charge, they deliberately revived a religious one, and presented to Pilate substantially the same accusation upon which they had tried the prisoner before their own tribunal.

"He made himself the Son of God!" These words filled Pilate's mind with a strange and awful meaning. In the mythology and ancient annals of his race, there were many legends of the sons of the gods who walked the earth in human form and guise. They were thus indistinguishable from mortal men. It was dangerous to meet them; for to offend them was to provoke the wrath of the gods, their sires. These reflections, born of superstition, now swept through Pilate's mind with terrific force; and the cries of the mob, "He made himself the Son of God," called from out the deep recesses of his memory the half-forgotten, half-remembered stories of his childhood. Could not Jesus, reasoned Pilate, be the son of the Hebrew Jehovah as Hercules was the son of Jupiter? Filled with superstitious dread and trembling with emotion, Pilate called Jesus inside the Temple a second time; and, looking with renewed awe and wonder, asked: "Whence art thou?" But Jesus answered him nothing.

Pilate came forth from the judgment hall a second time determined to release the prisoner; but the Jews, marking his decision, began to cry out: "Away with him, away with him, crucify him!" Maddened by the relentless importunity of the mob, Pilate replied scornfully and mockingly:

"Shall I crucify your king?"

The cringing, hypocritical priests shouted back their answer:

"We have no king but Caesar."

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