WHAT amount of knowledge Pilate already possessed of the Saviour’s person and character is not known. But he could not fail to have been surprised, on this occasion, at the earnest request so early in the morning to decide the question respecting the Teacher from Galilee. The deputation from the Sanhedrin would not enter his prætorium, lest they should incur pollution, and be unable to keep the Passover (Jn. xviii. 28). Yielding, therefore, to the popular custom531, with political tact he came forth from his palace (Jn. xviii. 29), and enquired the nature of the accusation against the Redeemer.
At first they replied evasively, and as if they felt hurt at the question, If this fellow were not a malefactor we would not have delivered Him unto thee (Jn. xviii. 30). But this would not satisfy Pilate, and he replied ironically532, Then take ye Him, and judge Him according to your law, as if anxious to refer the whole matter back to themselves. To this the Jews replied that it was not lawful for them to put any one to death (Jn. xviii. 31), and having thus intimated that the Redeemer had committed a crime, for which the punishment of death was due, artfully put forward a charge, which, as a Roman procurator, Pilate could not overlook. We found this fellow, said they, perverting our nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar, saying that He is Christ a King (Lk. xxiii 2).
Though Pilate must have known the Jews too well to imagine that the Sanhedrin would really hate and persecute One, whose sole crime was an anxiety to free them from the Roman power533, he saw that the case could not be hastily put aside, involving as it did three grave charges; (i) seditious agitation, (ii) attempted prohibition of the payment of the tribute-money, and (iii) the assumption of the suspicious title of “King of the Jews.”
It was clearly necessary that he should at least examine the Accused, and, as a procurator534, he was bound to conduct the examination himself.
Withdrawing, accordingly, with the Redeemer into the interior of the prætorium (Jn. xviii. 33), he began by enquiring, Art thou the King of the Jews? (Jn. xviii. 33; Mtt. xxvii. 11). To this the Holy One replied by asking the governor whether he put this question of himself, or at the suggestion of others (Jn. xviii. 34). Apparently offended at such a rejoinder, and disclaiming all communion with the prejudices of the Jews535, Pilate responded that he was not a Jew; His own countrymen, and the ruling powers of the nation, had brought Him before his tribunal, what had He done?
Thus interrogated the Saviour replied by an assertion of the real nature of His kingdom: My kingdom, said He, is not of this world; had my kingdom been of this world, then would my servants have contended that I should not be delivered to the Jews: My kingdom is not from hence. Art Thou536, then, a king? enquired the wondering governor. Thou sayest it, answered the Redeemer; for I am a King. For this purpose was I born, and for this purpose came I into the world, that I might bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth My Voice (Jn. xviii. 37, 38). These mysterious words from the lips of One, whose life seemed to be entirely at his mercy; this denial that He was a king in a worldly sense, and the implication that in another sense He was537; this declaration that the object of His birth and of His life was to bear witness to the truth, increased the procurator’s perplexity. What is truth? he asked, partly in sadness, partly in irony, partly from a real inability to discern the connection of such an abstract matter with “the present question, with a question of life and death, with a capital charge brought by the national council before the supreme tribunal538.” He could connect a kingdom with power, but not with truth.
The only sect Pilate could have ever heard of that believed in such a kingdom was the Stoics539, and their opinions he would naturally regard as those of visionary enthusiasts. The Accused might be a dreamer, but certainly He was not one who had done anything deserving of the sword of the civil power, and going out to the Jewish deputation standing before the gate (Jn. xviii. 38), he declared his conviction of His innocence; he found no fault in Him (Lk. xxiii. 4).
But this was the signal for a furious clamour on the part of the chief priests and the members of the Sanhedrin. He stirreth up the people, they cried, teaching throughout all Judæa, beginning from Galilee even unto this place (Lk. xxiii. 5). Pilate thereupon turned once more to the Accused, and enquired what answer He had to give to these charges (Mtt. xxvii. 13). But the Holy One continued silent, and answered not a word. This increased still further the astonishment of the procurator (Mtt. xxvii. 14; Mk. xv. 5), but he fancied he had discovered an escape from the dilemma. The word Galilee had not escaped his ears (Lk. xxiii. 6). Galilee was in the jurisdiction of Herod-Antipas, who was now present in the city as a worshipper at the Feast (Lk. xxiii. 7), and by sending the case before him540, he might at once rid himself of a troublesome responsibility541, and conciliate one, with whom he had hitherto been on no friendly terms542 (Lk. xxiii. 12). Having assured himself, therefore, that the Accused was a Galilæan (Lk. xxiii. 6), he sent Him before Herod’s tribunal.
The tetrarch of Galilee543, as we have seen before, had often heard of the Saviour, and had long desired to see Him544 (Lk. xxiii. 8). He was highly pleased, therefore, when informed who was awaiting an audience with him, and hoped his curiosity to see some sign of supernatural magical power might be gratified. With this view he put many questions to Him, but the Redeemer maintained an imperturbable silence. Meanwhile the chief priests and scribes, who had followed into the presence of Herod, persisted in their furious accusations. But neither their charges nor the questions of the tetrarch could induce the Holy One to utter a word. Provoked at being thus disappointed of the object of his hopes, Herod’s superstitious curiosity was exchanged for scorn. He did not venture indeed to condemn the Accused to death, and saw that there was nothing He had done which rendered Him liable to punishment, but he did not scruple to insult Him, and therefore handed Him over to his soldiers, amongst whom probably, as in his father’s body-guard545, were Gaulish and Thracian barbarians, who treated the Holy One with every kind of indignity (Lk. xxiii. 11). This done, he sent Him back to the Roman procurator, clad in a purple robe, and the ill-feeling between the two was from that day exchanged for friendship (Lk. xxiii. 12).
Perplexed, as Pilate probably was, at finding the case thus thrown back upon his hands, he was more than ever convinced that the Holy One was entirely innocent of such grave charges as had been made against Him. He therefore summoned the chief priests and rulers of the people (Lk. xxiii. 13) together, and once more declared his conviction that their accusations could not be sustained, and added that in this he was fortified by the judgment of Herod also. He offered, however, to scourge Him before letting Him go (Lk. xxiii. 16).
This first symptom of weakness and irresolution was not lost upon the Jewish rulers, and their followers assembled before the prætorium, and the proposition merely to scourge the meek Sufferer found little favour with them. Pilate therefore resolved to try another method of making the proposed acquittal more acceptable546.
It appears to have been a custom, the origin of which is wholly unknown547, to release at the season of the Passover any prisoner whom the people might select. There was at this time in confinement a celebrated (Mtt. xxvii. 16) bandit, named Barabbas548, who with others had committed murder in an insurrectionary tumult (Mk. xv. 7) in the city (Lk. xxiii. 18). The procurator therefore, in accordance with this custom, proposed to the Jews that they should select for release one of the two, either Barabbas, a condemned murderer and insurgent, or the Prophet of Nazareth. He saw clearly that it was envy of His fame and popularity (Mk. xv. 10) which had induced the ruling powers to accuse the Holy One, and he hoped by this appeal to the people to procure His release. Indeed so certain does he appear to have been that they would select for release One, whom thousands had so lately welcomed with loud Hosannas as their Messiah, that he ascended and sat down upon the judgment-seat549 as if to ratify and formally accept their decision (Mtt. xxvii. 19).
But at this moment, as if to increase his perplexity, an attendant approached bearing a message from his wife550 imploring him to have nothing to do with the just person (Mtt. xxvii. 19) standing before his tribunal. During the night she had probably been roused by the messengers551 of the high-priest requesting a Roman guard, and a fearful and harrowing morning (Mtt. xxvii. 19) dream concerning the righteous Prophet of Nazareth had induced her thus to appeal to her husband in His behalf.
Pilate’s feelings of awe and amazement were now intensified, and his determination to release his Prisoner increased. But the chief priests and the Sanhedrists had improved their opportunity while he was listening to his wife’s message, and when he composed himself afresh to receive their decision, he saw that malice and bitter, determined hatred had done their work. Persuaded by their teachers, the multitude cried out, Not this Man, but Barabbas. In vain the procurator tried to stem the torrent, in vain he expostulated (Mk. xv. 9), in vain he re-asserted his conviction of the innocence of the Accused. Loud clamour, and furious faces, and uplifted hands, told him that the feelings of the throng were excited beyond such efforts. Equally powerless was a solemn and significant action, by which he strove to represent in the most striking manner possible, how strongly he was convinced of the perfect innocence of the Holy One. Calling for water, he washed his hands publickly (Mtt. xxvii. 24) before the whole multitude, saying, I am guiltless of the blood of this Just Person: see ye to it. His blood be upon us and upon our children, was the frantic reply, and Pilate saw that further opposition would only increase the tumult (Mtt. xxvii. 25).
One hope, however, he still seems to have retained552. Perhaps that tossing clamorous throng would be satisfied with the infliction of a punishment only less terrible than death. Perhaps the inhuman scourge of the Roman soldiers would be enough553, without the penalty of crucifixion, for which so many were already clamorous. He gave the order, therefore, that He should be scourged, and appears to have again sat down on the judgment-seat while the command was carried into effect.
The soldiers executed his orders with their wonted severity, and then flung around the bleeding body of the Divine Sufferer a purple554 robe (Mtt. xxvii. 28; Jn. xix. 2), and placing a reed in His right hand (Mtt. xxvii. 29), and a crown of thorns555 upon His head, bowed the knee before Him, and in cruel mockery saluted Him, saying, Hail, King of the Jews (Mtt. xxvii. 29; Mk. xv. 18). Not satisfied with this outrage, they took the reed and struck Him with it on the head, and spat in His face (Mtt. xxvii. 30; Mk. xv. 19), and heaped upon Him every kind of indignity.
The scourging appears to have been inflicted within the prætorium (Mtt. xxvii. 27), and when it had been carried out, Pilate himself went and led forth the Sufferer wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe (Jn. xix. 4, 5), and presented Him to the people, saying, Behold the Man556. Would not this spectacle of terrible suffering suffice? Could cruelty demand yet more? Crucify Him was the cry of the chief priests and their attendants (Jn. xix. 6). The sight of so much suffering so meekly borne drew forth no pity, and no relenting. Take ye Him, and crucify Him, replied the procurator; for I find no fault in Him. We have a law, rejoined the Jews, and by our law557 He ought to die, because He made Himself the Son of God.
These last words roused afresh all Pilate’s fears (Jn. xix. 8). Taking his bleeding, lacerated Prisoner once more within the prætorium he enquired anxiously, Whence art Thou558? But the Holy One made him no reply. Startled by this continued silence the procurator asked whether He did not know that he had power to release Him, and power to crucify Him. Thou couldest have had no power at all against Me, was the mysterious reply, unless it had been given thee from above; therefore he559 that delivered Me unto thee hath the greater sin (Jn. xix. 11). This answer, so calm, so gentle, so full of mystery, made a deep impression on Pilate, already awed by the message of his wife, and still more by the infinite patience of the accused, and he resolved to make one last effort to release Him (Jn. xix. 12). But it was too late. A cry, far more formidable to himself than any he had yet heard, struck upon his ears: If thou let this Man go, cried the Jews, thou art not Cæsar’s friend: whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against Cæsar (Jn. xix. 12). It was a crafty, well-chosen cry. Pilate knew that the Jews already had matter for accusation against him560, and could well divine the consequences, if they accused him before the gloomy suspicious Tiberius of sparing a prisoner who had been accused of treason561. Loss of place, degradation, banishment, perhaps a death by torture, stared him in the face. His fears for his own personal safety turned the scale. He must save himself562, even though he sacrificed One whom he had confessed to be innocent. Once more, therefore, he took his seat upon the tribunal (Jn. xix. 13), but even now he could not resist the impulse to bid the Jews bethink themselves before it was too late. Behold your King, said he. His words were the signal for uproarious cries of Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him! Shall I crucify your King? asked the procurator. We have no king but Cæsar, replied the chief priests (Jn. xix. 15), thus renouncing altogether the hope of the Messiah in order to satisfy their thirst for the Redeemer’s blood, and Pilate seeing it was useless to prolong the controversy, pronounced the word, the irrevocable word, Let Him be crucified (Joh. xix. 16).
THUS the Holy One was formally delivered into the hands of the soldiers563, who instantly made their preparations for His crucifixion. The place of execution was a spot of slightly rising ground without the gates of the city, called, probably from the shape of its rounded summit564, Golgotha565, the place of a skull (Mtt. xxvii. 33; Jn. xix. 17). Thither, therefore, after stripping Him of the purple robe, and putting on Him His own garments (Mtt. xxvii. 31; Mk. xv. 20), the soldiers led Him forth bearing566, as was customary, the Cross on which He was to suffer (Jn. xix. 17), attended by a centurion567, and two malefactors who were to be crucified with Him568 (Lk. xxiii. 32).
As they proceeded from the city, the Redeemer, exhausted by the grievous sufferings He had already undergone, sank under the heavy weight of the Cross, and the soldiers meeting one Simon569 of Cyrene in Northern Africa, coming from the country570, laid hold upon him, and compelled571 him to assist in bearing it (Mtt. xxvii. 32; Mk. xv. 21; Lk. xxiii. 26). And so the mournful procession was resumed, followed by a great multitude, amongst which many women began to utter loud laments at the sad spectacle. Turning to these daughters of Jerusalem the exalted Sufferer with superhuman composure bade them weep not for Him, but for themselves; for nameless sorrows awaited them, days when they would bless the wombs which had never borne, and the paps that had never given suck, when they would cry to the mountains to fall upon them, and to the hills to cover them572 (Lk. xxiii. 28–31).
On reaching the appointed place, the hole for the Cross was dug in the ground, and the customary stupefying potion573 of wine mingled with myrrh was offered to the Holy One. He touched it with his lips (Mtt. xxvii. 34), but would not drink it, being resolved to preserve His senses clear, and to endure all the coming agony in the full possession of His consciousness. Then the soldiers stripped Him of His garments, nailed His hands and feet to the Cross574, placed over His head the title575 which Pilate had written in three languages, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin,
This is Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews,
and between the two malefactors, one on His right hand and the other on His left (Isai. liii. 12), the Redeemer hung suspended between heaven and earth, breathing forth even under the hands of His murderers words of infinite love, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do (Lk. xxiii. 34).
It was now about the third hour576 (Mk. xv. 25), and the quaternion or party of four soldiers577 (Jn. xix. 23), with their centurion (Mtt. xxvii. 54), whose special duty it was to see that the bodies of those who suffered by crucifixion were not taken away, sat down and watched (Mtt. xxvii. 36). According to custom, the clothes of the Redeemer had become their perquisite. Of the outer garment they made four parts, probably loosening the seams578. But the inner garment579 was without seam, woven from the top throughout (Jn. xix. 23). That they might not rend this garment, therefore, they drew lots for it whose it should be, and thus unconsciously fulfilled the words of the Psalmist, They parted My raiment among them; and for My vesture they did cast lots (Ps. xxii. 18; Jn. xix. 24).
While, however, the soldiers were thus employed, and the high-priests were busy wrangling with Pilate respecting the title he had placed upon the Cross, a few faithful ones had ventured to draw near the suffering Redeemer. Near His Cross stood His mother, His mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas580, and Mary Magdalene (Jn. xix. 25), and with them the Apostle John. Looking upon His mother, and seeing standing by her the disciple whom He loved, He said to her, Woman, behold thy son, and to the disciple, Behold thy mother, and from that hour the Apostle took her to his own home581 (Jn. xix. 27).
But soon others than these faithful ones drew near. The passers-by began to vent their mockery and bitter gibes upon The Redeemer. Some reminded Him in derision of His deep saying at the first Passover of His public ministry, and bade Him who could destroy the Temple and build it in three days, save Himself (Mtt. xxvii. 39, 40; Mk. xv. 29). Others, and especially the chief priests, bade Him if He was in truth the Son of God, the Messiah, and King of Israel (Mtt. xxvii. 42; Mk. xv. 32), come down from the Cross. The soldiers also took up their words, and drawing near offered Him in mockery their sour wine582 (Lk. xxiii. 36), and required Him, if, as His title portended, He was the King of the Jews, to deliver Himself, and soon even the crucified malefactors followed their example, and cast the same in His teeth (Mtt. xxvii. 44; Mk. xv. 32).
But as the weary time wore on, the feelings of one of the two, won over by the heroic bearing of the Saviour and His infinite patience, underwent a striking change. He began to reprove the other for his revilings (Lk. xxiii. 40). They indeed were suffering justly, and receiving the reward of their misdeeds, but the Holy One in their midst had done nothing amiss. This avowal, made amidst all His present agony and degradation, was a great step, but soon it led to another. The more the penitent malefactor reflected on the sinlessness of Him who hung beside him, the more he contrasted it with his own shortcomings, the more the light streamed into his soul, and at length the eye of faith opening to discern the invisible, and the conviction dawning upon him that this was his Lord, the true King of the Jews, he turned and said, Lord, remember me when Thou comest in Thy kingdom, and received the comforting reply, This day shalt thou be with Me in paradise (Lk. xxii. 43).
But now the greatest and most mysterious period of the Passion drew near. Already nature herself had begun to evince her sympathy with the awful scene that was being enacted. At the sixth hour, the hour of noon, the clearness of day began to be obscured. A fearful darkness583 gradually spread over the whole land (Mtt. xxvii. 45; Mk. xv. 33; Lk. xxiii. 44)584, and deepened in intensity till nearly the ninth hour, the hour of the evening sacrifice. Meanwhile the Holy One began to be sensible of the burning thirst, which is the most painful aggravation of a death by crucifixion, and gave expression to it in words (Jn. xix. 28). Close at hand stood a vessel full of vinegar, and one of the soldiers took a sponge, and filling it with the fluid put it on a hyssop-reed, and raised it to His lips. At this moment the Redeemer gave utterance to the prophetic words of the xxiind Psalm, in which, in the bitterness of his heart, David had complained of the desertion of his God, and said, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me? (Mk. xv. 34).
On hearing this exclamation, some of those standing near, either misapprehending His words, or in wilful mockery, declared that He called not on Eli, God, but on Elias, whose appearance was universally expected as the sign of the Messiah’s kingdom. They would, therefore, have waited to see whether the great prophet would really come (Mk. xv. 36), and would have arrested the compassionate hand that was raising the vinegar. But the moment of release was near. As soon as He had tasted the vinegar (Jn. xix. 30), the dying Redeemer cried with a loud voice, It is finished; Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit, and gave up the ghost.
These last words had hardly been uttered before a wondrous event took place in the Temple. The veil, the beautiful veil, inwrought with figures of Cherubim, which separated the Holy Place from the Most Holy, was suddenly rent in twain from the top to the bottom585 (Mtt. xxvii. 51; Mk. xv. 38; Lk. xxiii. 45), and at the same moment the earth trembled with the convulsion of an earthquake, and the rocks were rent, laying open many of the sepulchres with which they were perforated on all sides of the city586 (Mtt. xxvii. 52).
These marvellous incidents made a deep impression, not only on the centurion and his soldiers who had been stationed to watch the cross, but on the multitudes who had been spectators of all that had occurred, and the women and kinsmen of the Holy Sufferer who stood gazing afar off (Mtt. xxvii. 55; Mk. xv. 40). The people beating their breasts in deep but unavailing sorrow (Lk. xxiii. 48) began to pour back with fearful forebodings into the city, while the Roman officer, who though he had often looked upon death and its victims in various forms, had never witnessed such a death as this587, under the influence of deep emotion testified that He, who had been condemned as a blasphemer, was indeed a righteous man (Lk. xxiii. 47), nay more, that He was in truth the Son of God588 (Mtt. xxvii. 54; Mk. xv. 39).