Sermon Tone Analysis

Luke recorded a middle phase in all of this action.

When Pilate found that Jesus was from Galilee, he sent him off to Herod Antipas, who was also in town for the Passover.

But Herod only mocked Jesus and returned him to Pilate (Luke 23:6–12).

Later, Peter commented on how Jesus had handled these injustices (see 1 Peter 2:20–23).

But Jesus gave him no answer.

Pilate was greatly amazed that Jesus, facing the death penalty, would not defend himself because, if Jesus did not answer, Pilate would have to judge him guilty.

Recognizing the obvious plot against Jesus, Pilate wanted to let him go, but he was already under pressure from Rome to keep peace in his territory.

The last thing Pilate needed was a rebellion over this quiet and seemingly insignificant man.

Secular power understands very little of real faith, and often the least effective means of teaching is to launch into elaborate sermons with fancy rhetoric and engaging illustrations.

Secular governors have heard plenty of that kind of talk.

The essence of these accusations by the chief priests and elders is recorded in Luke 23:1–5.

The Jewish leaders had to fabricate new accusations against Jesus when they brought him before Pilate.

The charge of blasphemy would mean nothing to the Roman governor, so they accused Jesus of three other crimes: (1) encouraging the people not to pay their taxes to Rome; (2) claiming he was a king—“the King of the Jews”; and (3) causing riots all over the countryside.

Tax evasion, treason, and terrorism—all these would cause Pilate to be concerned.

These accusations were false, but the religious leaders were determined to have Jesus killed.

However, Pilate’s reluctance to prosecute Jesus was undoubtedly due more to his contempt for the Jews than for any particular consideration of Jesus.

Pilate could sense that the solemn rabbi standing before him was unlikely to lead a revolt against Rome.

In Jesus’ eyes, Pilate did not see the hardened glare of a Zealot.

Jesus was no revolutionary.

Jesus did claim to be a king—to remain silent would be like denying it (see also 26:64).

But he wasn’t claiming kingship in any way that would threaten Pilate, Caesar, or the Empire.

Jesus’ kingship was spiritual; a charge of treason required it to be political.

Pilate decrees the sentence, as his position required him to do (27:26): Ibis in crucem (“you will mount the cross”; Blinzler 1959:238).

Given the dangers of riots, Pilate’s acquiescence to the masses at the Passover (Mt 27:24) was likely (R. Brown 1994:722).

Pilate probably saw Jesus in the terms suggested in John 18:36–38: as one of the relatively harmless wandering philosopher-kings known to him from Greco-Roman tradition.

Roman officials were generally not inclined to execute (hence, perhaps, make martyrs of) those they saw as harmless fools (compare Jos. War 6.305).

Pilate presumably thought that it was safer to release Jesus, the “so-called Christ” (vv.

17, 22), than alternatives like Barabbas, who, like those ultimately executed with Jesus, was a “robber” (vv.

38, 44; Mk 15:7), the aristocracy’s derisive title (shared by Josephus) for insurrectionists.

Pilate

By Roman law, a defendant who refused to make a defense had to be assumed guilty (Lane 1974:551); yet Roman officials typically offered “a defendant three opportunities to respond before convicting by default” (France 1985:389), and Pilate offers Jesus at least two here (v.

13).

It is no wonder, then, that Pilate is amazed by Jesus’ silence (v.

14).

Such astonishment on the part of judges appears also in Jewish accounts of defiant martyrs who—in contrast to their judges—valued God’s kingdom more than their lives (Stanton 1974:36).

This part of Matthew’s account has less to do with Jesus than with Pilate, however: it is not Jesus but the character of Pilate that is on trial.

Though Pilate knows the unjust motivation of the charges (v.

18) and receives a divine warning (v.

19), political expediency takes precedence over justice.

Pilate’s “great amazement” (27:14) appears to be mingled with respect for Jesus and antipathy for the Jewish leaders, and so he takes tentative steps to release the prisoner.

Meanwhile Jesus’ silence testifies mutely to his willingness (cf.

26:53) to suffer as “a ransom for many” (20:28).

In other words, the vindicated Lord is the crucified Messiah (cf.

N.A. Dahl, The Crucified Messiah [Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1974], pp.

10–36).

Spurgeon explained why Pilate marveled greatly: “He had seen in captured Jews the fierce courage of fanaticism; but there was no fanaticism in Christ.

He had also seen in many prisoners the meanness which will do or say anything to escape from death; but he saw nothing of that about our Lord.

He saw in him unusual gentleness and humility combined with majestic dignity.

He beheld submission blended with innocence.”

(Spurgeon)

i.

There is a time to defend one’s cause or one’s self, but those times are rare.

When we rise to our own defense, we would usually be better off to keep silent and to trust God to defend us.

The [you] in an emphatic position in verse 11 suggests this = You the King of the Jews!” (Bruce)

Of course, we can only wonder what Pilate thought when he first set eyes on Jesus, when he saw this beaten and bloodied Man before him.

Jesus didn’t look especially regal or majestic as He stood before Pilate, so the Roman governor was probably sarcastic or ironic when he asked, “Are You the King of the Jews?”

Now Jesus stood before the governor: History shows us Pontius Pilate was a cruel and ruthless man, unkind to the Jews and contemptuous of almost everything but raw power.

Here, he seems out of character in the way he treated Jesus.

Jesus seems to have profoundly affected him.

The leaders must have said, “This man claims to be a king.”

So Pilate asked if that were true.

Jesus admitted that he was indeed a king, but even then Pilate knew this was a religious matter and that Jesus was innocent of treason or rebellion.

So he tried to acquit him.

I suggested in an earlier study that Pilate had probably been contacted the previous night by one of the Sanhedrin, probably Caiaphas, to be sure that he would hear the case in the morning.

He must have agreed to a quick pro forma trial.

But when the leaders appeared the next day, they were startled to find that the governor wanted to begin a formal hearing.

They seem to have been caught off guard since they did not have their charges against Jesus well thought out.

Luke refers to an apparently similar massacre in which Pilate “mixed” the blood of certain Galileans “with their sacrifices” (Luke 13:1).

Pilate was not an upright nor noble man.

On another occasion he appropriated money from the sacred Corban treasury to build a fifty-mile aqueduct to the city, provoking outrage from the citizens.

When the people gathered to protest the sacrilege, Pilate sent soldiers into the crowd disguised as common people who, on a prearranged signal, pulled out hidden clubs and daggers and attacked the demonstrators.

When he arrived in Judea the first time, he sent his legions to Jerusalem by night, bearing standards blazoned with the images of Tiberius, which the Jews considered idolatrous.

That he did it by night shows that he knew what he was doing, but that he did it at all betrays his brutish nature.

Pilate revealed his nature by his oversight of Judea.

He was the sixth procurator of that region, having assumed his post in A.D. 26.

The governors who had served before him had been sensitive to Jewish sensibilities and had generally avoided acts that could offend or inflame the people.

But Pilate showed no such sensitivity.

The greatest puzzle of the Roman trial is the contrast between what we know of Pilate’s character from secular sources and his conduct at the trial of Jesus as reported in the Gospels.

Pilate was not a noble person.

He had come from Spain, served under Germanicus in the wars on the Rhine, and had risen to his relatively minor post as governor of Judea through his marriage to Claudia Proculla, a granddaughter of the emperor Augustus.

The marriage was a smart career move but a moral disgrace.

Claudia’s mother, Julia, was notorious for her coarse immorality even in decadent Rome, and her daughter was like her.

Augustus would refer to them saying, “Would I were wifeless or had childless died.”

Three chapters ago when we began the study of Christ’s trials, I pointed out that they present a unique situation.

Jesus was tried, on the one hand, by an ecclesiastical court, seeking to apply the revealed law of God to Jesus’ case, and, on the other hand, by a civil court, seeking to apply what is generally thought to be the most highly developed law known to man.

Jewish law was the most humane of legal systems.

It did everything possible to preserve life and avoid executions.

Roman law was known for its comprehensiveness, systematization of statutes, specification of procedures, and affixing penalties.

It has been said of the ancient world that Judea gave religion, Greece gave letters, and Rome gave law.

So Pilate was greatly astonished.

This was clearly not going to be the sort of trial to which he was accustomed.

In the trial before the Sanhedrin Jesus was silent when a variety of allegations were made, but he spoke when the high priest put to him a question he was perfectly entitled to put by virtue of his office.

Similarly, he responded to Pilate when the governor asked the question he was bound to ask because of his office.27

But when Pilate drew attention to the accusations of these Jewish officials it was another matter; he did not reply to Pilate then.

They were not concerned with justice but with an execution.

The specific allegations did not matter; they were determined to have him executed, and to refute their accusations was irrelevant.

If those charges were shown to be false, they would raise others.

Now we come to the accusation that we would expect.

The Jewish leaders kept accusing him (the present infinitive points to a continuous process);25

It seems clear that Matthew is following his customary practice of abbreviating the narrative.

If all that happened was that Pilate asked whether Jesus was king of the Jews and received an affirmative answer, even a hesitant one, surely the trial would have been over and Pilate would have given a sentence that would have gotten rid of this “king.”

But John tells us of a discussion between Jesus and Pilate about the nature of kingship in which Jesus made it clear that he had no intention of fighting against the Romans.

“You are saying it.”