The Roman soldiers and Pilate
The Roman soldiers and Pilate
Those immediately responsible for the death of Jesus were of course the Roman soldiers who carried out the sentence. The actual process of crucifying him is not, however, described by any of the four evangelists.
If we had to rely exclusively on the Gospels, we would not have known what happened. But other contemporary documents tell us what a crucifixion was like.2 The prisoner would first be publicly humiliated by being stripped naked. He was then laid on his back on the ground, while his hands were either nailed or roped to the horizontal wooden beam (the patibulum), and his feet to the vertical pole. The cross was then hoisted to an upright position and dropped into a socket which had been dug for it in the ground. Usually a peg or rudimentary seat was provided to take some of the weight of the victim’s body and prevent it from being torn loose. But there he would hang, helplessly exposed to intense physical pain, public ridicule, daytime heat and night-time cold. The torture would last several days.
None of this is described by the Gospel writers. Piecing together what they do tell us, it seems that, according to known Roman custom, Jesus began by carrying his own cross to the place of execution. Presumably, however, he stumbled under its weight. For a man named Simon, from Cyrene in North Africa, who was at that moment coming into the city from the country, was stopped and forced to carry the cross for Jesus. When they arrived at ‘the place called Golgotha (which means The Place of the Skull)’, Jesus was offered some wine mixed with myrrh, which was a merciful gesture intended to dull the worst pain. But, although according to Matthew he tasted it, he refused to drink it. Next, all four evangelists write simply: ‘and they crucified him’.3 That is all. They have previously described in some detail how the soldiers mocked him in the Praetorium (the governor’s residence): they dressed him in a purple robe, placed a crown of thorns on his head and a sceptre of reed in his right hand, blindfolded him, spat on him, slapped him in the face and struck him on the head, at the same time challenging him to identify who was hitting him. They also knelt down before him in mock homage. But the evangelists give no details of the crucifixion; they make no reference at all to hammer or nails or pain, or even blood.
All we are told is ‘they crucified him’. That is, the soldiers carried out their gruesome task. There is no evidence that they enjoyed it, no suggestion that they were cruel or sadistical. They were just obeying orders. It was their job. They did what they had to do. And all the while, Luke tells us, Jesus kept praying out loud, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing’ (23:34).
Although the Gospel writers seem to be implying that no particular blame attached to the Roman soldiers for crucifying Jesus (and they add that later the centurion in charge of them believed, or at least semi-believed), the case is quite different with the Roman procurator who ordered the crucifixion. ‘Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified. So the soldiers took charge of Jesus...they crucified him’ (John 19:16–18). Pilate was culpable. In fact, his guilt is written into our Christian creed, which declares that Jesus was ‘crucified under Pontius Pilate’.
Pilate is known to have been appointed procurator (i.e. Roman governor) of the border province of Judea by the Emperor Tiberius, and to have served for 10 years from about ad 26 to 36. He acquired a reputation as an able administrator, with a typically Roman sense of fair play. But he was hated by the Jews because he was contemptuous of them. They did not forget his provocative act, at the beginning of his period of office, of exhibiting the Roman standards in Jerusalem itself. Josephus describes another of his follies, namely that he misappropriated some Temple money to build an aqueduct.4 Many think that it was in the ensuing riot that he had mixed the blood of certain Galileans with their sacrifices (Luke 13:1). These are only samples of his hot temper, violence and cruelty. According to Philo, King Agrippa I described him in a letter to the Emperor Caligula as ‘a man of a very inflexible disposition, and very merciless as well as very obstinate’.5 His overriding aim was to maintain law and order, to keep those troublesome Jews firmly under control, and, if necessary for these ends, to be ruthless in the suppression of any riot or threat of one.
The portrait of Pontius Pilate in the Gospels tallies well with this external evidence. When the Jewish leaders brought Jesus to him with the words ‘We have found this man subverting our nation’, and added that ‘he opposes the payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be Christ, a king’ (Luke 23:2), Pilate could not fail to take notice. As his investigation proceeded, the evangelists emphasize two important points.
First, Pilate was convinced of Jesus’ innocence. He was obviously impressed by the prisoner’s noble bearing, self-control and political harmlessness. So three times he declared publicly that he could find no ground for charging him. The first was soon after daybreak on the Friday morning when the Sanhedrin referred the case to him. Pilate listened to them, asked Jesus a few questions, and after this preliminary hearing announced, ‘I find no basis for a charge against this man.’6
The second occasion was when Jesus came back from being examined by Herod. Pilate said to the priests and people: ‘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.’7 At this the crowd shouted, ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ But Pilate responded for the third time: ‘Why? What crime has this man committed? I have found in him no grounds for the death penalty.’8 Moreover, the procurator’s personal conviction about the innocence of Jesus was confirmed by the message his wife sent him: ‘Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him’ (Matt. 27:19).
Pilate’s repeated insistence on the innocence of Jesus is the essential background to the second point about him which the evangelists emphasize, namely his ingenious attempts to avoid having to come down clearly on one side or the other. He wanted to avoid sentencing Jesus (since he believed he was innocent) and at the same time avoid exonerating him (since the Jewish leaders believed he was guilty). How could he contrive to reconcile these irreconcilables? We watch him wriggling, as he attempts to release Jesus and pacify the Jews, i.e. be just and unjust simultaneously. He tried four evasions.
First, on hearing that Jesus was a Galilean, and therefore under Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod for trial, hoping to transfer to him the responsibility of decision. But Herod sent Jesus back unsentenced (Luke 23:5–12).
Secondly, he tried half-measures: ‘I will have him punished (i.e. scourged) and then release him’ (Luke 23:16, 22). He hoped the crowd might be satisfied by something less than the supreme penalty, and their blood-lust sated by the sight of his lacerated back. It was despicable. For if Jesus was innocent, he should have been immediately released, not flogged first.
Thirdly, he tried to do the right thing (release Jesus) for the wrong reason (because the crowd chose him for release). Remembering the procurator’s established custom to grant a Passover amnesty to some prisoner, he hoped the people would select Jesus for this favour. Then he could release him as an act of clemency instead of as an act of justice. It was an astute idea, but inherently shameful, and the people thwarted it by demanding instead that the procurator’s pardon be granted to a notorious criminal and murderer, Barabbas.
Fourthly, he tried to protest his innocence. He took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood’ (Matt. 27:24). And then, before his hands were dry, he handed Jesus over to be crucified. How could he bring himself to incur this great guilt immediately after proclaiming his innocence?
It is easy to condemn Pilate and overlook our own equally devious behaviour. Anxious to avoid the pain of a whole-hearted commitment to Christ, we too search for convenient subterfuges. We either leave the decision to somebody else, or opt for a half-hearted compromise, or seek to honour Jesus for the wrong reason (e.g. as teacher instead of as Lord), or even make a public affirmation of loyalty while at the same time denying him in our hearts.
Three tell-tale expressions in Luke’s narrative illumine what in the end Pilate did: ‘their shouts prevailed’, ‘Pilate decided to grant their demand’, and he ‘surrendered Jesus to their will’ (Luke 23:23–25). Their shouts, their demand, their will: to these Pilate weakly capitulated. He was ‘wanting to release Jesus’ (Luke 23:20), but he was also ‘wanting to satisfy the crowd’ (Mark 15:15). The crowd won. Why? Because they said to him: ‘If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar’ (John 19:12). This clinched it. The choice was between honour and ambition, between principle and expediency. He had already been in trouble with Tiberius Caesar on two or three previous occasions. he could not afford another.
Sure, Jesus was innocent. Sure, justice demanded his release. But how could he champion innocence and justice if thereby he denied the will of the people, flouted the nation’s leaders, and above all provoked an uprising, thereby forfeiting the imperial favour? His conscience was drowned by the loud voices of rationalization. He compromised because he was a coward.