I have to say that of all those I have encountered in this journey through the Gospels, Pilate stands as the one about whom my opinions are most changed, or perhaps least fixed. It seems as though we come to the history of the Crucifixion with a great deal of baggage. We have the child-like assessments of good and evil which informed our younger days when first we learned this story. If Jesus was good, and Pilate killed Him, then Pilate must be bad. It’s so black and white! And perhaps it really is. Yet, even Jesus paints a bit of grey into the record, declaring him less guilty than the priests for what was to happen.

Add to this the standard depictions from the silver screen. Here, too, there is something of that child-like simplification, but this time in service of a more readily accessible narrative. Pilate is the villain, alongside the priests of course, but then the priests have better lawyers. If we look across the films from that period in which such epics were made, it seems the Romans were a very popular image for villainy. In Westerns, it was the Mexican bandits, or maybe the savage redskin. But, when the tale is from across the pond, nothing suits the role of arch-nemesis so well as a Roman. They are the very embodiment of tyranny and power and corrupt debauchery. Nothing says corrupt politician like a reference to Rome’s later days. And all of this feeds the viewpoint we have when we come to this passage.

We have already judged Pilate as guilty, guilty, guilty! Yet, as I have gone through the events of this final week, as I have considered the various articles documenting the man, I have to say that my opinion of Pilate has risen rather than fallen. There is much to be said in defense of his actions, if not in favor of them. I would note that of all who have written of him, it seems the Evangelists, and John in particular, are quite possibly the most favorable in their presentation. Philo and Josephus being the primary extra-Biblical sources we have concerning Pilate, both are fairly negative in their views. But, then, both are writing from a Jewish perspective, Philo perhaps more so than Josephus, and both are inclined by nature, really, to uphold the Jewish side in those conflicts they had with Pilate. Philo, in particular, we are told perceived Pilate as part of an anti-Semitic program led by Sejanus. It is all the more striking, given these perspectives, that the Apostles show no such animosity towards him. They don’t gloss over his crimes, but they don’t raise them up to the level of approbation that, for example, Herod and Judas receive.

At any rate, an interesting man forced into the most interesting of times. At the very least, as we consider his story in brief here, it is worthwhile to consider how I would have reacted under similar circumstances. It doesn’t take a great deal of imagination to see oneself having proceeded along very similar lines. But, let us consider the man.

As I have noted, we don’t have a great deal of data to work with as concerns Pilate, particularly about his existence before becoming governor of Judea. Certain suppositions can be made. For example, the fact that he was set as procurator likely indicates that his previous experience included military service, and (if I am remembering correctly) that he had served as a cavalry officer. This is further reinforced by the rather oversized military contingent that was under his command in Judea.

The other possibility that is broached in regard to his past is that he may have been either a freedman himself, or descended from such. This supposition is put forward based solely on his name. It is explained that what we have in the record are his family name, Pontius, and his secondary name (forgetting the term), Pilate. What we would think of as a first name is not noted. It is on this name Pilate that the idea of his being a freedman hangs. The term can apparently be translated in such a way as suggests a period of slavery in the past. I believe it was a matter of implying baldness, and slaves would apparently have had their heads shaved to make their status clear.

So, let us suppose this case. Here, then, is a man who has risen rather highly given his past. From slave to governor, not a bad career, really. And, it is noted that his length of service there in Judea was unusually long, the average governorship lasting but four years. He was making somebody happy with the quality of his service in spite of those rough spots with the locals. But, I am interested in what such a background might bring to the man in office. While slavery may have been a commonplace of the social system of the day, and in many cases, may have been a service that was not unkind, yet it could hardly be a state in which one aspired to remain. Nor, having escaped that status, was it likely that one looked back upon that previous existence with any great longing or fondness.

There are, of course, any number of possible ways such a past might color a man’s use of power. It might make him more of a tyrant. One who has been powerless may be vindictive when the situation changes. It might make him timid, fearful that this newfound power could very easily be stripped away and he find himself returned if not to slavery then to a condition too close to it. However, it’s hard to imagine that one so timid has risen through the ranks of the military in such a fashion as to come to the attention of his superiors as one who would serve well in governance.

The third possibility I see is that such a background might just leave a man more sympathetic to those in similar straits. We have a commonly held view in the church that God allows us to go through the circumstances of our lives as preparation, so that we may better counsel and comfort those after us who encounter like circumstances. For all that, we have the book of Hebrews, reminding us that we have in Christ a High Priest who can sympathize with our weaknesses and failures, having been tempted in every way just as we have been, but without sin (Heb 2:18, Heb 4:15). This makes Him particularly well suited both to comfort us and to plead for us in the court of heaven. Well, it may be said that Pilate was no less created in His image than are we. Is there any reason to suppose he wouldn’t find himself more aware of the state of the downtrodden, and maybe a bit more sympathetic to their cause than others of the Roman ruling class might be?

Of course, we have but the scant evidence of Scripture upon which to attempt any proof of such a mindset. The others, Josephus and Philo, are far too antagonistic for their works to be used as grounds for any such proof. I noted somewhere already, but it bears repetition, that the Gospel authors present Pilate far more favorably than any of the other records we have of the man. It is not that they go out of their way to present him in such a way, but simply that the record they give us show him less a tyrant, less some horrible, overbearing tough guy, than as a just man caught up in a particularly untenable situation. It bears thinking about that. For we are all but assured of being caught up in untenable situations ourselves, situations in which the path of righteousness looks far from desirable, and may even look impossible. Face it. The path of righteousness is impossible, if we seek to travel it by our own strength and wit.

When we look at Pilate, then, I think it imperative that we have that mindset that, “there, but for the grace of God, go I.” As we consider what he was dealing with, what his world was like, what his antagonists were like, it’s worth asking oneself how much better I would have done than he did. The worth of the question, though, is only as valuable as the honesty of the answer given.

So, then, let’s think about his situation just a bit. He is here as procurator. Whether his background includes that history of slavery or not, he is in a position of responsibility now. And, in that position, he is answerable first to the Syrian legate, who is not so very far away, but also, of course, to the Caesar himself. That, it must be said, is a particularly precarious position! For all the power he exercised over the local populace, he and they both knew that it wouldn’t take much to topple him. For Pilate’s part, one didn’t arrive at such an office without a keen awareness of the politics of Rome. For the part of the Jews, they had figured enough of the game of Roman politics to know how to play, particularly those who were in, or candidates to be in the Sanhedrin. After all, that council, and even the office of the High Priest, had become matters of Roman politics. They, too, must know the political winds to survive.

But, as to Pilate, he is procurator, and the procurator has certain primary responsibilities. First and foremost amongst those responsibilities was to ensure that revenues are collected on time and in full. Rome required funding for its empire, and this is where it came from! Rather like a modern city, the core of the empire could not possibly support itself on its own means any longer. It must draw upon these surrounding territories both for income and for produce, or be starved into oblivion in short order.

Pilate would also be called upon to act as judge (and jury) in local matters, particularly as concerned taxes and their payment, but also, as here, in other matters. He was also the military commander for the region. That means that he was responsible to keep the peace. Nothing was so deleterious to a Roman career in politics than to fail to enforce the pax Romana. There is a reason why riotous crowds always seem to get a fast and immediate response. If word got out that a Roman governor had failed to prevent such a riot, said governor would not govern for long, nor would he find any career options remaining when out of office!

Subjugated peoples, not just here in Jerusalem, but throughout the empire, learned this fact well. It was a handy bit of knowledge, and made pretty much any governor subject to relatively simple manipulation. Of course, stirring up crowds in an effort to force the governor’s hand could be a tricky business. There’s nothing so dangerous as a cornered pol, particularly when that pol has military backing! But, there is another way to use that information which has far less risk of backfiring, and that is to lay accusations against one’s enemies. Him, over there! He’s been stirring up riots and rebellion, sir. I thought you should know before any damage is done.

All of this we see play out in the case of Pilate, but not only in his case. As we follow Paul on his missionary journeys, we see that the same game is played elsewhere, and it’s not always the Jews doing it, either. Think about the temple of Artemis. When the people of Ephesus stirred up the authorities against Paul and his friends, it was because those who manufactured idols of Artemis saw their livelihood threatened. How do we move the governor to action? We make a scene! We point to these enemies of ours as the ones stirring up all the trouble, and presto! Here comes the military to do our bidding.

So, for Pilate, maintaining order over this ‘surly subject people’, as the ISBE frames it, is a primary duty, perhaps the primary duty. One can’t collect taxes from a rebellious population, and if one is forced to ride roughshod over them to quell the rebellion, well, dead people don’t pay taxes either. So, it is a primary concern for him, and also one major headache. There is a reason he is here in Jerusalem for a feast he does not observe, rather than in his own headquarters up in Caesarea. Herod might be putting in an appearance to maintain his ostensible participation in Jewish faith, but not Pilate. Pilate is here as the authority. And, he is here in force. He is here in force because there is a long history now of riots and rebellions arising out of these festal gatherings in Jerusalem. Better a bit of preventive medicine, then. Let them see that retribution will be swift, and there will be less cause for retribution.

The ISBE comments that Pilate did not concern himself with the religious sensibilities of the Jews, and certainly those events reported by Josephus and Philo would seem to back up that claim. That he would see no looming problem when he sought to use the corban funds to finance his aqueduct problem does not suggest a man who has looked into these things more than absolutely necessary. And yet, interestingly enough, the same ISBE later points out that while Pilate was determined to maintain Rome’s power and order, he also demonstrated a willingness to adjust for local practices. Seems like these are rather contradictory perspectives. Either he didn’t care or he did. I suppose an alternative view of the matter is that one describes his early career and the other his later service.

More than that, I think the problem is that we want to summarize a man, and a man is by nature complex. Certainly, there are actions of his, even at this late date in his governorship, which demonstrate a certain disregard for Jewish religious practices. On the other hand, much of what is said of these events would seem to indicate that he did not so much disregard them as deem them secondary to the matters of governance. In other words, where making room for local religious practices did not interfere with Roman governance, or cause a loss of face for Rome, he had no problem with it.

Even if we look at those instances that are in the historical record, there is room for interpretation as to his thinking. That first matter of the soldiers bearing their standards into Jerusalem: was it intentional slight, or ignorance of local custom, or was it more simply a statement that Rome was in charge and Rome would do as it wished? Given the points made regarding the kid-glove handling of the Jews by other administrations, ignorance seems an unlikely explanation. As to causing an intentional slight, would the man charged with maintaining the peace really be inclined to make so provocative a move if he thought it would stir up rebellion? That would demonstrate a rather thoroughgoing lack of talent for the post. It’s not hard to imagine an incompetent bureaucrat, certainly, but this would have required some equally incompetent superiors having deemed him fit for the task.

That leaves the purposeful demonstration of Roman superiority. We are in charge, and you will submit. Given the description of that region as a ‘surly subject people’, it’s not hard to understand why a military governor might feel it necessary to make his power felt. As to that later business with the shields in his residence, well! Consider how the Jews reacted to the idea of coming even to the Pavement. Consider the established standards of the Pharisees, that they would not so much as set foot in a Gentile house lest it make them unclean. What concern, then, did these people have for how he chose to decorate his own house? Did he come forcing them to raise idols to the Roman deities in their houses? No, he did not. And, by Jove, he was in charge not they! So, yes, it took his superior’s intervention to get him to back down on this one. And, from a purely administrative standpoint, it could easily be argued that his superior was wrong to have so commanded.

Perhaps the greatest demonstration we have of Pilate’s attempts to balance Roman supremacy with local custom comes in the midst of the trial. He is there as Rome’s representative, to impart Roman justice. And, as a true Roman, his concern for justice is great. Rome was, after all, an empire built upon law. Law was the foundation of peace. And law, to do its job, must be administered justly. All of this is part of his character. Yet, as governor, he must also cope with the political if he is to survive. So, then, as the trial of Jesus reaches its climactic moment, and the priests are pressing their point, Pilate’s rather visceral response is that they should see to things themselves, for he could find no cause for which Jesus was guilty. By Roman law, there was nothing here for him to punish. If it was a religious matter, then let the religious authorities deal with it.

It is striking to me how this demonstrates his commitment to justice. He would rather this somewhat surprising abdication of responsibility then to be the executioner of an unjust punishment. Of course, we are not granted to hear the tone of his delivery when he speaks thus. It does seem rather unlikely that he meant to offer them the right to inflict capital punishment. It is highly unlikely that he needed their reminder to recognize that they as a subject people were not permitted the death penalty. But, he was clearly frustrated in the extreme by the conflict between a just conscience and political necessity.

Somehow, the ISBE arrives at the certainty that Pilate was a corrupt ruler. I have to say that I see no such evidence. There is no hint in the Gospels that he was fishing for a bribe. One might see some of that with Paul’s imprisonment, but it is not on display here. Indeed, the fact that the point is made directly in regard to Paul and no mention made here could be taken as suggesting Pilate was actually not corrupt.

Here is a matter that all seem to agree upon: As regards all but the final moments of the trial, Pilate’s actions are entirely proper and in good accord with the standards of Roman practice. He is there as judge and jury, with the priests serving as prosecution. Fine. His handling of that trial is in no wise different than would be expected from a governor. He is a man doing his job. He is, to the point, a Roman doing the job of the law, and as a typical Roman his regard for justice is a dominant trait. Notice that, although he had provided military support for the arrest of Jesus, he was not simply going to rubber-stamp the wishes of the chief priests. They don’t even wish to mention charges when they come. It would seem they thought they had long since rolled the governor, and that he would simply do their bidding. He would not. “He’s guilty or we wouldn’t have brought Him to you” isn’t going to cut it. There will be a trial, and it will be done properly. The alternative is that it will not be done at all.

Indeed, the Scriptural record, particularly John’s account, show Pilate going out of his way to see justice done by Jesus. It may seem a minor capitulation in our eyes that his early parlay consists of having Jesus scourged in spite of an apparent lack of evidence against the Man. But, such a result might be fit with his deference to local, religious concerns. There’s nothing here to call for Roman attention, but if there is something in local Law that requires His punishment and you wish for us to deal with it, fine. Later, even after he has been sufficiently threatened by political retribution as to accede to the crucifixion, he is still seeking to see Jesus released. He may be beaten, mocked and spit upon, but perhaps Pilate can still manage to preserve His life, so he has Jesus paraded before the crowds in this pitiful condition. “Behold, your King!” Perhaps, when they see what they are causing to be done to this man, the crowds will cease from backing the priests. But, it was not to be.

One thing which is clear is that there was no intention to appease the Jews in the initial progress of this trial. If anything, as judge, he is proving somewhat antagonistic to the prosecution. No. He has demonstrated repeatedly that he is not inclined to instantly bow to every scruple of the population. He will, as has been said, uphold Rome’s power. So it is here. You want justice, you shall have it. You want mindless revenge? You’re on your own.

Sadly for Pilate, those he was dealing with already knew he could be manipulated. They, too, were creatures of Roman politics. In this they were, perhaps, more Roman than Jewish. The Pharisees may have been less inclined towards these games, but the Sanhedrin? The political machinations behind competition for the office of high priest were often as brutal if not more so than in the courts of Rome. No. They knew how Rome worked, and they knew how to work Rome. They had made of study of the Caesars, and they were well aware of the political winds. And, as has been noted, they have won against Pilate before. They have gone around him to his superiors, and he has been forced to relent due to those efforts. They know it. More to the point, he knows it.

And in spite of this, he stands, and he stands relatively firm. But, the priests know how to shape their charges. Note well the claims made against Jesus. He is teaching them that they shouldn’t pay taxes! And, what is Pilate’s chief responsibility? To see the taxes paid and delivered. Why, Pilate, if you don’t take care of this miscreant, it’s a dereliction of duty!

And, if that’s not enough, He’s stirring people up all over the territory, and even in neighboring Galilee! He’s a rabble rouser, a disturber of the peace. What, dear Pilate, is more important to your emperor’s heart than the peace of his empire? Do you sense the peril to your position here, yet?

No? Well, there’s this: He’s set Himself forth as a king. You might not have recognized this, because He speaks of Himself as Messiah (never mind that He has never spoken thus, to our knowledge). That’s a local term, it’s true, but it’s terminology for a king. You let Him go, and you know what that would mean. You know how that would sound to Caesar were he to find out about it, hmm? That’s what finally pushed Pilate to act against justice.

As much as he upheld the ideals of justice, he also knew how Rome worked. He knew the poisonous atmosphere, and he knew that Caesar, being at a further remove from events would not have much concern for the background details. The Man said he was a King, and that was all the evidence Caesar would need. You let Him go? Then, dear Pilate, you must be let go. That was political reality and he knew it. They made it quite clear by this that they knew it. And if there was one other certainty in Pilate’s thoughts, it was this: They would make use of that knowledge. If it would not suffice to get them their way now, they would have it later, and they would have him along with it.

This may well have been the final calculation for him. If he did not meet their demands now, it would still not save Jesus, only delay the inevitable. If he did not act the executioner, then Caesar would only wind up sending another to do the job later, and Pilate would find himself thrown in to boot. Justice would still not have been served, and he would be in no position to uphold justice on any other occasion. Is it pragmatism? To be sure. But, it does not require a judgment of corruption to arrive at an understanding of his thought process.

I would also note other actions he took during this trial. Consider the offer of a choice between Barabbas and Jesus. Now, at first, this might seem rather an odd thing. Actually, at first it seems merely incomprehensible. Barabbas, we are told, was a proven insurrectionist, a violent thief, and a murderer. And, Pilate has already adjudged Jesus as innocent of any such activities, at least based on the evidence presented. Yet, he’s willing to risk releasing this enemy of the state?

On further inspection, if Pilate recognized the absurd falsification in their charges against Jesus, he must also have recognized that their sympathies would naturally run toward this insurrectionist. He had stuck it to the man once, already! In spite of his scurrilous nature, he was doubtless a folk hero to many in this crowd. So, then, why did he bring this man into the picture? Surely, there were other, more innocuous prisoners he could have brought out for release? Wouldn’t his sense of justice lead him to seek to minimize the injustice of releasing a prisoner per this annual custom?

Well, there is this: Barabbas shared a name with our Lord. Both were named Jesus. That gets somewhat lost in the story, but it’s there. Pilate knows who the ring leaders are in this event, that it is the priests in their jealousy for power who are stirring things up. He is quite likely thinking that the majority of the mob here are what we would deem low information voters in our own time. They don’t know much about what’s going on. They’re just following the lead of those priests. Well, then, might he suggest they are thinking of the wrong man? Are you sure this is the Jesus you’re so worked up about? He seems rather innocent to me. Perhaps you were thinking of this other Jesus?

There’s two aspects to this. First, as I suggest, it can be seen as an attempt to refocus the mob on a more appropriate villain. Second, it offers the priests an opportunity to retreat from their demands with honor. Oh! Our bad, you’re quite right. It was that Barabbas fellow we were concerned about. Sorry to bother you then. If that was his hope, that hope clearly backfired. Or, perhaps he was more savvy than that, and merely wished to demonstrate the abject hypocrisy of these men. You come charging this innocent man with rebellion, yet clamor so loudly for another, proven rebel to be released? If that doesn’t poke some serious holes in the prosecution’s arguments, what does?

But, then, Jesus confessing to being a king doesn’t help matters. That He speaks of some kingdom beyond the realm of the empire doesn’t change the claim unfortunately. Pilate might find a distinction there, but Caesar was unlikely to. One almost gets the sense that Pilate could have enjoyed some philosophical discussions with Jesus under different circumstances, but time certainly doesn’t permit now. So, when he goes back out to the crowds, it is with this knowledge that this man, innocent though he may be, willingly confesses to being a king. Add the final threat of the priests to this, and it’s really no wonder he bows to the inevitable. Their words are a clear threat, and a very real one. The ISBE notes that, “Such investigations were frequent in Rome in this period.” If he was brought up on charges of betraying Caesar to this claimant of kingship, there would be no defense.

Turning to Fausset’s article, that author suggests that Pilate had some suspicion that Jesus was indeed Who He claimed to be. They conclude that if this is the case, he certainly failed to grasp the significance. In one regard, I am inclined to think he could not possibly have harbored any such realization else how could he have proceeded with the execution? On the other hand, a relative lack of piety with regard to their own gods was not particularly uncommon for the Romans. That, however would better serve as an argument for unbelief than for believing and yet proceeding.

The thing that strikes me this morning is that the Roman gods, like their Greek counterparts were far too human in their character. Indeed, as we find Rome promoting the Caesar as a god, this begins to expose the problem. Now, I have to say I’m uncertain whether that effort had begun at this date, but I believe it had. Either way, as I was reading a night or two back, the styling of Caesar as a god was but an imitation of practices common enough to Oriental thinking. It was a familiar path, this making a god out of man. Arguably, this is pretty much how the entire pantheon got established.

Think about that pantheon and its Greek twin. One has heroes. One has titans. One has the gods themselves. But, reading the mythologies, it could be argued that from the stance of morality, the heroes were in every way superior to the gods. Gods were suspicious, jealous, manipulative, vengeful. They were powerful, to be sure, but this was the only measure in which they might be seen as an improvement on man. They were powerful, but at least as fallen as those who worshiped them, in many cases, far more fallen. Worship, then, was not so much an adoration of what is admirable as an attempt to fend off the reprehensible.

Now, add the cult of the emperor. Now, not only are your gods like humans. They are humans, and what’s more, they are humans known to you. Man is lifted up as god, and the inevitable result is a much reduced sense of what a god is. I think this may be about where we find Pilate. He’s seen men proclaimed gods before, and they are no less human for all that. They are not immortal. Emperors and kings have been killed before, and they shall be so again, cult or no cult. For this one who proclaims himself king of some other realm to be simultaneously claiming the title of god, as the priests have contended, is really nothing so very new to Pilate.

This must be balanced with the recognition that the Evangelists do record a bit of his mental state as the end of the trial unfolds, and there is indeed a hint of fear. His wife has had dreams. Jesus has been surprising in His testimony, and wholly unafraid of Pilate, even, it would seem, unafraid of the cross that lay in His immediate future. The very priests who have come to prosecute Jesus have noted His claims of being God, their god, to be sure, not some new addition to Rome’s pantheon. And, frankly, it’s hard to imagine that Pilate has failed to hear the various claims surrounding Jesus’ ministry these last few years. Never mind that, think back across the last week or two. We daren’t lose sight of the fact that Lazarus was called from the grave a short walk from Jerusalem, and that, not at all long ago. Oh, yes, Pilate had cause to suspect what this Man was capable of, should He decide to defend Himself. But, Pilate was a Roman, and a military commander surrounded by his men. Even against the gods, he might find himself willing to venture a victory, especially one of these foreign gods. Rome was power, after all.

Along these same lines, if he was aware of the many claims regarding Jesus, he was far more aware of how he had just been played by these priests, and he was humiliated. He knew it. Publicly humiliated by these despicable men. And, let there be no doubt about it, he despised them. He had despised them from the first time they stirred up trouble for him, and he assuredly despised them after they had run to Syria to get his actions countermanded.

For their part, the priests feel their advantage and press it. They figure they’ve got Pilate set back on his heels, sufficiently cowed as to do their bidding with no further resistance. But, they are wrong. They come to complain of his choice of charges, and he sends them packing. In part, he must. He remains the governor, and as governor he must be the primary power. To continue in capitulating to these men is to ensure his own failure, and a particularly ugly failure at that. So, he stands firm. The ISBE suggests this was a bit of petty revenge against them, calling Jesus their king and refusing to reword the mocking inscription. They conclude, “It is certain that Pilate, in condemning Jesus, acted, and knew that he acted against his conscience. He knew what was right, but for selfish and cowardly reasons refused to do it. He was faced by a great moral emergency, and he failed.”

I find myself wanting to soften the judgment here: “For selfish or cowardly reasons.” I suppose in some regard that is a proper assessment. But, one could as easily say, “for reasons of self-preservation.” It doesn’t really change anything, but it feels a little more justifiable, doesn’t it? Oh, and there lies a warning! How our own thoughts seek to alter the wording of our own condemnation. We can rewrite the sins listed against us in ways that make them sound more acceptable. Is that not exactly what happened with the Law under the Pharisees? When “Thou shalt not murder” was first commanded, it carried in its words so much more, as Jesus had taught on the Mount. No, even insulting and libelous words were to be found within the scope of that simple commandment. Indeed, even the thoughts that formed the words. But, in an effort to make our favored sins more palatable, more acceptable, the definition of that commandment had been tightened until only the bare, literal command remained. The bar had been lowered to meet ability, rather than ability trained and exercised until it might clear the bar.

So, then, when conscience comes pointing out the real nature of our sins, how do we respond? No, I know how we ought to respond, and that’s a fine thing to know. But, how do we respond? What excuses for inaction do we produce? How swiftly do we move to rephrase the charges so that they don’t sound so much like a sin, so that we can, at least in our own sorry minds, justify continuing unchanged? I am, I confess, quite full of myself most days. But, I am not so full of myself as to suppose I am the only one who has experienced this. It is one more reason why we are all of us so thoroughly dependent on the gracious work of God in us. We cannot even trust our own hearts and minds when it comes to sin. We are too much creatures of this fallen existence, too resistant to the very good we desire.

Why do you suppose it is we have that anguished cry of Paul in Romans? No, this is not the cry of some pre-conversion reprobate on the mend. This is the cry of the honest saint! How can this be, Lord? I love You and yet I do this? I do this and yet You love me? And yet You abide in me? How can You? How can perfect holiness stand to be in any way associated with so fallen and corrupt a creature? If You have saved me and changed me and remade me, how is it that I still have this battle with sin? Listen, if you have not felt this dilemma within yourself, I would have to question whether you’ve really confronted your true condition. If you think you’ve arrived at some state of purity in perfection, even if you properly attribute the working of that perfect purity to our Lord and Savior, then I have to think you are in great danger! The heart is deceptively wicked, and it is, I dare say, the last stronghold that is overcome in the process of our sanctification. No. I do not ever expect that in this life I shall lose the need, the absolute and utter dependency on my Jesus. And yet, it pains me that it must be so. It may, in fact, be one of the hardest things in which to hold the mindset of, “Thy will be done.”

Let this, then, be our lesson drawn from the governance of Pilate. As is true of the Pharisees, so with him: We are not so very different. We can look down our noses at these malefactors from the Gospel history, but that is not why their record is set before us. It is not even, I think, set out for us that we might have some practice in exercising forgiveness. Rather, as with all the imperfect heroes of Scripture, they are set there in order that we might recognize ourselves. Just as Scripture’s heroes are never perfectly heroic, so Scripture’s villains, it seems, are never perfectly villainous. What both categories can be said to be is entirely human. None of us is so monochromatic in our ways. None of us has attained to the goal of righteousness, nor have any of us fallen so far into the pit of sin as to be irredeemable by Christ. It is good that we should remember this, we who have been granted the immeasurable privilege of coming before His throne of grace.