What Is Truth?

He heard the steps before the voice.

“My lord.” a whisper.

“Yes?”

“The Tribune is here”

“What does he want?”

“It’s the Jews, my lord.” “What now?” he thought.

“Show him in, I will be there presently.”

“Yes, my lord.” His manservant receded into the darkness of the common room. He tried to ease out of the bed so as to not wake his wife. Crossing the room in the darkness, he snagged his robe from the hook, shrugged it on and went out. He could just make out the soldier in the moonlight streaming in the windows. The Tribune saluted fist to heart.

“Prefect. The Jew’s council awaits an audience with you.”

“At this hour? What do they want?”

“They wish to turn a criminal over to you for punishment, Prefect.”

“Well, make them go away. Do they not know the hour?”

“Prefect, they insist that it is an urgent matter.”

“Yes, I bet they do.” He thought a moment. “Alright, I will dress while you bring them in.”

“Yes, Prefect.” And with another salute the Tribune exited the room. Pilate went to his dressing room and prepared to meet the Jews. His manservant momentarily fussed over him and pronounced him presentable. Pilate went out through the common room and exited the apartment.

Moving quickly toward his chamber, he wondered if this criminal was the same man Caiaphas had wanted soldiers for the night before; probably. He moved into the large hall where he expected to see them but was instead met by the Tribune.

“My Lord, they refuse to enter the building. It is their day of preparation…….”

“Prior to their holy week. Yes, yes, I remember.” He said somewhat exasperated. They thought entering the gentile building would make them unclean.

“Should I send them away Prefect?” “And he looks quite ready to”, Pilate thought. They must be in a mood.

“No, I would prefer to dispatch the matter now that I am awake.”

He crossed the Great Room towards the main entrance with its glittering torches and large open door. Several of the guard broke away from various points to follow as he made his way. Going through the door, he stopped at the top of the stairway. As he looked down upon the knot of men at the bottom, his guard detached and took up positions along either side of the stairs from top to bottom. Pilate saw that indeed this was the bulk of the Sanhedrin, some holding torches and surrounding a rather small and plainly dressed man. The night was warm and calm. Stars glittered overhead and the moon was full and bright. From the top of the stairs, he raised his voice to the men some 30 feet below.

“What charges are you bringing against this man?”

“If he were not a criminal we would not have handed him over to you.” this from one of the priests flanking the prisoner. A small glow of anger suddenly lit in Pilate’s chest. He started down the stairway toward them. He felt, rather than saw, his guard tense up. You still haven’t handed him over to me you arrogant prick, thought Pilate.

“You awaken me in the middle of the night and summon me outdoors to my own courtyard like a commoner,” He was now standing three feet from the group. “therefore I want to know what specific charges you are bringing against this man!”

“We have found this man subverting our nation. He opposes taxes to Caesar and claims to be Christ, a King.”

“A king?” Pilate’s eyes lit up at this. “So, the carpenter thinks he’s a king does he?” Still, he doubted very much if this king was fomenting a tax rebellion. As Prefect, Pilate was charged with the collection of taxes. To this end he kept a close watch on the more prominent troublemakers of the day. But he had heard nothing about this man agitating against taxes to the state. This was beginning to sound like a Jewish matter and not a Roman one.

Pilate turned and began to go back up the stairs. Without looking around he said, “Take him and judge him by your own law.”

From behind him a voice said, “But we have no law to execute him.”

Pilate froze, one foot on one step and the other on the step below. “Execute?” Pilate brought his feet together on the same step and straightened up, his back still to the petitioners. He looked up at his advisor and friend who waited for him at the top of the stairs. “They brought him to me to be executed?” Pilate thought. He had to stifle a giggle that seemed to come out of nowhere. “Oh yes, yes. By all means let’s execute this terrible threat to Roman Sovereignty.” Pilate stifled yet another giggle and turning, took the 4 or 5 steps back to the group rapidly until he stood over this carpenter, Jesus.

“Are you, the king of the Jews?” Pilate asked with a crooked smile and eyes sparkling.

“Yes, it is as you say.” replied the carpenter who would be king. Pilate did giggle then. The smile remained on his face as he looked up at the crowd of priests,

“I find no basis for a charge against this man.”

One of the Jews spoke up, “He stirs up the people all over Judea. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here!”

“Galilee?” thought Pilate. “He is a Galilean then?” asked Pilate. A sound of general agreement rippled through the men. Pilate turned and rapidly ascended the stairs again.

“Tribune!”

“Yes, Prefect!”

“Assign four guards to this group and take them to Herod. You know where he is staying?”

“Yes, Prefect.”

“Good. Do it!” Pilate stopped by his advisor at the top of the stairs and turned to watch the four soldiers detach from the guard and escort the Jews out of his courtyard. It was now Herod’s misfortune to be present in the city during the festival. Anyway, everyone knows how much Herod has wanted to meet this Jesus. Well, now he would get his chance. Pilate turned to his advisor.

“Titus, please ride ahead to Herod’s and tell him what has transpired here. You should have plenty of time to explain it before that self important ass grants them an audience.”

“Yes, Prefect.”

“Make sure he understands that though I find no fault in the man, I thought He would want to meet this man of miracles.

Pilate’s advisor dipped his head to him and left to deliver the message to Herod.

“He’s Herod’s problem now.”

5 hours later, Pilate was in his garden waiting on his wife. She had slept late this morning which was unusual for her, but he supposed she deserved it after the journey. Pilate always came to Jerusalem for the Passover festival. As Governor it was expected by the Legate of Syria that he make himself available during this time to his subjects. This was Pilate’s sixth trip from Caesarea to Jerusalem for this event and his wife and he treated it as a time of rest for both of them. They would shop this morning. Pilate loved to watch her wrangle in the marketplace. He would also busy himself continuing his self education of all things Hebrew. He considered it part of his job and one of the reasons he had ruled in Judea for so long. It was unheard of for a Governor to serve more than three years and Pilate was now in his seventh year as Prefect.

He was pulled from his reverie by a cough behind him. He turned to see his advisor, Titus.

“A message from Herod Tetrarch.” His advisor held out a small scroll in his right hand. Pilate took it, unrolled and began to read.

“I have returned this man to you finding nothing in him that is worthy of death. I had hoped to see a miracle or two since I have heard as much from others but, alas, he appears to be a bit of a simpleton to me. Indeed, his accusers leveled all manner of vile accusations against him; yet to my amazement he remained silent throughout. We had some sport with him for the benefit of these Jews, but it does not seem to have assuaged their anger. I returned him to you to do with as you please. It greatly pleased me that you sent him to me, knowing I was desirous of seeing him. I will not forget this kindness.” – Herod

Pilate smiled at the last line since he had intended it to be a thorn in Herod’s side.

“So, they have returned?”, asked Pilate.

“They are in the courtyard, my lord.” answered his advisor. Pilate knew firsthand that these Jews were a demonstrative lot given to emotional outbursts at the slightest provocation to their religion. When he had first assumed the title of Prefect, his replacement guards had gone into Jerusalem at night bearing the Roman standards. The Jews took great offense to this bearing of the standards into the holy city and besieged this very building in protest. It had taken Pilate six days to traverse the distance to Jerusalem. He had entered the courtyard to speak to them with his guard. The Jews had assumed that the guard was there to kill them. Immediately the Jews fell to the ground and bared their necks proclaiming that death would be preferable to the standards being in the city defiling it. Pilate had already ordered the removal of the standards from the city and he told them so. They left off from their protest, accounting it as a victory for their God.

“What is their mood?” he asked Titus.

“The same, if not worse. Perhaps they are agitated over the death of their guide.”

“Guide?”

“Judas Iscariot, the former disciple of this man. He was the one who led our soldiers to him last night. Apparently, in a fit of remorse, he hanged himself last night as well. The crowd in the court yard is quite large.”

This Judas’ death surprised Pilate. What could have generated that kind of remorse so quickly?

“Let’s go out and dispose of this once and for all.” said Pilate. They left the garden and went out to the portico facing the courtyard. The crowd was larger now. Pilate supposed there were the usual busybody’s present, but as he made his way to the edge to address the crowd he saw several people enter the gates, swelling the crowd rapidly. It was a beautiful day and Pilate knew because of this, many people would be milling about the area and out of curiosity might wander in here to see what all the fuss was about. “I need to make short work of this.”

The crowd, when it saw Pilate, began to murmur. Immediately the Priests began to level all manner of accusations against their prisoner. Pilate watched as Jesus made no response.

“Don’t you hear the testimony they are bringing against you?” Pilate asked Jesus. Jesus stood and said nothing. “How can he stand there and make no reply when they are demanding his death? Is he really a simpleton?”

As the crowd became louder Pilate decided to have the prisoner brought in to a place where he could properly interrogate him without all the noise. Jesus was brought into the Great Room and as Pilate walked by him to be seated he commented on the scarlet robe Jesus was now wearing.

“Did Herod give that to you?” he mocked him with a smile. “At least you look more like a king now.” Jesus did not respond but it was not lost on Pilate that he was watching Pilate’s every move with an eerily calm detachment.

“Are you the king of the Jews?”

“Is that your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?” Jesus responded. Pilate thought in amazement, “He is asking me if I want to be one of his disciples!”

“Am I a Jew?” Pilate responded quickly in order to cut off this line of thought on Jesus’ part. “It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me.” Jesus made no response. Calming down a bit, Pilate thought for a moment and then asked,

“What is it you have done?”

Jesus responded, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place.”

“You are a king then!” exclaimed Pilate.

“You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

“So, you see your purpose as not revolution, but spreading your “truth.””, thought Pilate.

“What is truth?” Pilate said harshly. “Enough of this nonsense.” He rose and, brushing past Jesus, went back out to the porch to address the crowd. The little courtyard was full to capacity now with people standing even in the gates. They were a noisy lot. Pilate raised a hand for quiet and when he got it he announced to the priests,

“You brought me this man as one who was inciting the people to rebellion. I have examined him in your presence and have found no basis for your charges against him. Neither has Herod for he sent him back to us; as you can see, he has done nothing to deserve death. Therefore, I will punish him and release him.”

Without waiting for a response, Pilate turned and walked briskly back into the building as the noise behind him from the crowd broke out loudly. Entering the Great Room he headed straight for the Tribune and said,” Take the prisoner and flog him. Take your time.”

“Yes, my Lord”, responded the Tribune and Pilate watched as they pushed Jesus into the chamber off the main hall. It was Pilate’s intention to show the Jews a little blood to quench their thirst for vengeance on this man. Then He would release him, the matter would be settled and he could begin his holiday proper.

Pilate busied himself with a response to Herod while the soldiers carried out his order. He knew they would consider this a diversion from their routine and so it should take awhile. “Let the Jews wait.” he thought to himself as he wrote. They had already given him more trouble in one day than he normally saw in a month.

Pilate could hear when the lashes began, but he was no stranger to this form of punishment. And while thirty nine lashes might seem excessive to most, he understood the Jews intractability on religious matters well enough that he knew he needed to put on a good show before he released this man. While he needed no one’s permission to release this carpenter king, he also did not need unrest on the part of the populace. As the lashes continued, Pilate began to realize he had not yet heard the carpenter cry out. In fact, he had heard nothing at all except the sound of the lash and the grunts of effort from the one who wielded it.

Pilate had finished his letter and after thirty nine lashes had been reached, he rose and made his way back to the portico. On the way out he told the Tribune to bring Jesus when he was ready. He was about to finish this incident. It had gone on too long already.

Pilate walked out onto the portico. When the crowd saw him they began to raise their voices. Pilate did not see the group of priests; he spotted first one, and then three more moving through the crowd. As he scanned the rest of the throng he realized that the priests were all through the courtyard. The people now, and not just the priests, began to call for the death of their “king”. Pilate raised both of his hands and after a few seconds the crowd quieted enough for him to speak.

“Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no basis for a charge against him.” said Pilate. He turned his head toward the door to the portico and waited. All eyes in the crowd were on the door as well. As soon as they saw Jesus, they began to yell, “Crucify! Crucify Him!” Out he came without the robe now, wearing only a loincloth. “All the better for the priests to see his wounds.” thought Pilate. Indeed, the man’s back was a mass of shredded flesh and his legs and loincloth were soaked in red.

Instead of the reaction he had hoped for, Pilate heard the crowd grow louder in their cries and shouts for crucifixion of this hapless soul. Anger again sparked in Pilate’s chest at the bloodlust of the crowd. He now understood that the priests were orchestrating this rabble into a frenzy. Pilate attempted to bypass the priests and get the crowd’s attention with the weight of what they were demanding.

“You take him and crucify him. As for me I find no basis for a charge against him.” He declared angrily.

This did in fact quiet the crowd, but then one of the priests jumped into the gap of silence.

“We have a law and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the son of god.”

This shot fear up Pilate’s spine until it rested in the base of his neck and made the hairs stand on end. “Son of God?” Nobody had ever told Pilate that this king believed himself to be a son of God. Pilate immediately turned on his heel and headed back into the building, demanding that Jesus be brought along. He headed straight to the desk but did not sit behind it. Instead, he turned toward Jesus and leaned back into it, crossing his arms. He watched as the guards did their best to drag Jesus before him with all haste. Finally Jesus is standing before him, flanked on either side by a guard. Pilate gropes in his mind for the right question. As he does he now sees this man in a new way, and it’s not one he likes. There is no way this carpenter is a son of the gods, but……

“Where do you come from?” Pilate’s eyes are locked onto this man who is staring at the ground while his sweat is now mingling with his blood. He hears the man’s labored breathing from the pain he is in. He waits for an answer but when he realizes one is not forthcoming his fear grips him and he tries to impress the gravity of the situation on this country prophet.

“Do you refuse to speak to me?” he spits out in anger mixed with a newfound fear. “Don’t you realize I have the power either to free you or crucify you?” The man raises his head and fixes Pilate with a steady eye.

“You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore, the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” And Jesus lowered his head again to continue his effort at breathing.

Judas! He’s telling me Judas’ death was the direct result of his betrayal. “And if my authority over this man is given me by his……..”

Pilate snapped bolt upright and began to stride back to the portico with a terrible motivation of soul. He must find a way to release this man. It was one thing to put to death a self proclaimed prophet, but how much more a son of the gods themselves.

“Bring him!” Pilate snapped to the guards as he was already out the door to the porch. “How shall I do this? There must be a….” and then as if by divine providence he was stopped by the words of two priests as they waited on his arrival.

“It is the custom to release one prisoner to us on Passover.” say the priests and the crowd begins to shout for the release of a prisoner.

“Excellent!” thought Pilate with a sudden giddy feeling in his chest. Sensing a sudden turn of events in his favor, he strides to the edge of the portico and shouts to the crowd.

“Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” Their answer shocks Pilate and his new born hope dies a quick death in his heart.

“Barabbas!” they shout, nearly in unison. He knew why too and this day he hates the priests of the Sanhedrin council of the Jews. Jesus Barabbas – insurrectionist. This prisoner was a convicted murderer! What has this carpenter done to stir up so much enmity against him? Then another voice comes from the front of the crowd, loudly interrupting Pilate’s thoughts, “If you let this man go you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar!” And the last vestige of hope in Pilate’s breast becomes a millstone of despair around his neck. He hears the threat implicit in this statement, which is now being vehemently agreed upon by the ever noisier crowd.

“Bring Barabbas.” he tells a centurion and the man instantly obeys. The crowd continues the noise as Pilate walks slowly and resolutely to the Judgment Seat. He faces the crowd without seeing them and sits. This quiets the crowd as Barabbas is brought out from his cell. Barabbas is dazed by the light after the darkness of his cell. Pilate looks at him to his left and then turns his head to the stooped and beaten body of Jesus. He has been outmaneuvered by the priests. By demanding Barabbas they have insured that Jesus cannot go free. Pilate must release one, but to release two will focus the issue on “why” for Rome should trouble be stirred afterwards.

A messenger arrives at his side and whispers, “A message from Claudio, lord.”, and hands him a small parchment. Claudio’s handwriting is instantly recognizable to him. The message says: “Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.” This message re-energizes the fear in him and stacks the weight of even more on his shoulders. His wife did dream dreams and had on occasion told him so. Most of them he dismissed, but the timing of this one felt like more than coincidence. Rarely had she been this direct, and never had she tried to communicate with him while he was in the conduct of his office. But his hands were tied at this point, so he could only ask the crowd again: “Which of the two do you want me to release to you?”

The name of Barabbas again resounds off the walls of the courtyard. Pilate shouts over the noise, “What shall I do then with Jesus who is called Christ?”, and some in the crowd begin again to scream for crucifixion. His emotions nearly smothering him, Pilate cries, “Why? What crime has he committed?”

But the crowd continues as though it hasn’t heard him. Pilate gives the command to release Barabbas. He then turns to the crowd who is quieting down at seeing Barabbas being unshackled. Pilate’s mood is very dark now having been coerced so neatly by the priests into an action he did not choose or want. He turns his head toward the carpenter king. Jesus is sweating and weak from the beating, being supported now by the guards at his side. He is no threat to anyone at this moment. Pilate bites off his next words to the crowd.

“Here is your king!”

Someone in the crowd yells, “We have no king but Caesar!”

Pilate’s face remains dark as it is fueled by rage and hatred for this crowd, for his job and for himself as well. He reaches over to a bowl of water kept nearby for just such a display and says in a dismissive yet furious manner to the crowd, “I am innocent of this man’s blood. It is your responsibility!” He quickly rises as he dries his hands on his robe. He is eager to rid himself of this crowd, this moment, this Jesus. Then someone yells, “Let his blood be on us and on our children.” as Pilate gives Jesus over to be executed. He looks out over the now dispersing crowd but cannot see who had said these words. “Somehow I think it will be.” He watches Jesus being led off to die, and knows that some way, somehow, he himself already has.