The final rejection of Jesus, the one whereby he is sentenced to death by crucifixion, is a brilliantly nuanced tale filled with psychological, social and political intrigue. While Pontius Pilate is the focus of this final rejection of Jesus, the story told is the sum of John 1.10, “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him.”
We presume that Caiaphus, the temple police, other leading Jewish officials (Annas?) and possibly a few others close to the high priesthood are among the “they” that walk with Jesus to the Praetorium of Pontius Pilate. Pilate was governor of Judea, the highest representation of Roman authority apart from the Emperor. John tells us that they took Jesus to the governor’s residence “early” (Jn 18.28). They wanted to make sure that the matter of Jesus was the first order of business for Pilate on this Friday, the day of preparation for Passover (Jn 19.14).
However, in a shocking moment of irony, the Jewish officials will not enter the Praetorium so as to avoid ritual defilement (Jn 18.28). We are not certain why the Jewish officials believe they will be defiled by entering Pilate’s residence. John does not mention that there are lepers, dead bodies, pigs, or unclean women at Pilate’s residence. This detail is noted by John to highlight the hypocrisy of those who are bringing Jesus to Pilate to be crucified on false charges while trying to remain ritually pure, or in other words, righteous before God.
When Pilate asks for an accusation (Jn 18.29), the officials do not articulate one. They simply indicate that Jesus is “an evildoer” (Jn 18.30) and essentially says that they wouldn’t bring someone to Pilate if there wasn’t a problem. Because the charges are not specific Pilate immediately rejects the case (Jn 18.31). As will become evident in this story and is attested by external sources, Pilate and the Jerusalem establishment existed in a constant state of political tension. Jerusalem did not like being occupied by Rome because Israel was God’s Promised Land and God’s Temple represented God’s sovereignty over all other gods. The presence of Rome (or Babylon or Egypt or any occupying force) was an affront to God’s purposes for God’s people. Because of their history, Pilate believes he has good reason to be suspicious about the intentions of Caiaphus and his officials in this case, and Caiaphus knows how to strike fear in the heart of Roman officials.
John does not provide any details, but it is clear that once “the Jews” indicate that the case of Jesus rises to the level of the death penalty, Pilate is once again interested and a conversation takes place that we know nothing about (Jn 18.31). Since the officials will not enter the governor’s residence, Pilate has to go back inside to speak with Jesus. It appears from his question (Jn 18.33) that the Jews are bringing the charge of sedition against Jesus. This charge is of interest because it is not an offense punishable by death according to Torah. However, sedition is certainly a concern for Pontius Pilate, whose primary job is to maintain the peace by fomenting revolution in his territory.
In typical Johannine fashion, Jesus does not back down from the accusation, claiming his authority over a kingdom and accepting Pilate’s designation of Jesus as a king (Jn 18.34-37). However, to ease Pilate’s concerns of revolution, Jesus tempers his claims by saying that he is no threat to Rome. His kingdom is not like those with which Pilate is familiar (Jn 18.36). If it were, his officials (the same word used to signify the temple police) would be resisting his capture by the Jews (Jn 18.36). The absence of such resistance proves Jesus’ point. Jesus then claims authority over the kingdom of truth (Jn 18.37), which likely sounds more like a philosophical guild than a “nation” to Pilate. He brushes Jesus off with the ironic statement, “What is truth?” (Jn 18.38) and heads back outside. The irony is simply that for John, “truth” stands before Pilate in the person of Jesus and he does not (yet?) see it.
Pilate remains unconvinced of Jesus’ guilt on the charges presented and instead of just calling an end to these proceedings unwisely attempts to appease the Jews. He offers to release an actual criminal as part of an apparent traditional Passover policy in hopes that they will accept the innocent Jesus. Following this course, the charges of sedition against Jesus would remain, but Pilate would be able to release him. The Jews, however, shockingly cry for the release of an actual criminal, Barabbas (Jn 18.40). This puts Pilate in a bind. There’s no way that Pilate is going to release Barabbas, who was more than likely a Zealot legitimately convicted of insurrection and murder. Thus, Pilate’s first attempt to release Jesus fails.
Pilate tries another approach. He has Jesus dressed up as a faux king, brutally beaten, and then presents him before the Jews (Jn 19.1-5). Pilate hoped that this barbaric form of humiliation would be enough to appease the Jews and enable him to release Jesus. By declaring, “Behold, the man!” Pilate negates the charge of sedition by presenting Jesus as a farcical pretender to the throne. He is battered, spat upon, bleeding – a conquered, weak, hapless faux king – a mere mortal. However, rather than creating empathy by demonstrating the abject weakness of Jesus, the chief priests and temple police call for crucifixion. They are undeterred in their original intention to kill Jesus so that he does not disrupt the power structure in Jerusalem or unsettle the careful balance of Jerusalem’s relationship with Rome.
Again, Pilate is in a bind. He “finds no guilt in him” (Jn 19.6) but cannot find a politically expedient way to release Jesus. Out of frustration, Pilate tells the Jewish officials to “take him yourselves and crucify him” (Jn 19.6). The chief priests and temple police would love to do this, but everyone knows that only Rome has the authority to carry out crucifixions. In addition, politically speaking, if the Jewish authorities kill Jesus they might face a revolt because of Jesus’ popularity. The power of the Roman military was widely feared, so in the minds of the chief priests both legally and politically Rome must be the ones to put Jesus to death.
At this point, the Jews offer a new accusation: Jesus claims not only to be a King, but also a Son of God (Jn 19.7). Roman Emperors frequently took on divine titles, routinely imagining themselves as sons of the gods. In the ancient world there was always a direct link between divine power and political authority. The strength of an emperor or a king immediately reflected the power of the gods who either backed them or who they embodied. For Jesus to claim to be a “son of god” doesn’t challenge regional authority, it challenges imperial authority. Pilate is rightly “more afraid than ever” (Jn 19.8).
He returns to Jesus with the question, “Where are you from?” (Jn 19.9). His question is about Jesus’ authority. In essence, “From where do you draw your political authority: from human lineage or from divine commission?” Initially Jesus says nothing. If Pilate cannot comprehend Jesus’ prior explanation of his reign, his kingdom and truth, how is Pilate going to wrap his mind around Jesus being the Son of the Father, who is the God of Israel? Only faith can see and know these things, and while Pilate believes Jesus is innocent of the charges brought against him, he is not yet like the man born blind (Jn 9).
Pilate threatens Jesus with his “authority” to release Jesus or send him to be crucified. Now Jesus speaks and offers something Pilate agrees with: Any authority that Pilate has over Jesus has been divinely granted. While the divine source may be at issue, Pilate can immediately understand that the divine authority of the Emperor comes down through his governorship to the position in which he finds himself in this moment. Jesus then points out the problematic position in which Caiaphus finds himself. Pilate knows that the charges Caiaphus is bringing against Jesus are false. So, in Jesus’ understanding, Pilate stands in a position of divine righteousness relative to Jesus, and Caiaphus is “guilty of a greater sin” (Jn 19.11). This argument convinces Pilate once and for all of Jesus’ innocence and he seeks to release Jesus.
However, the Jews were savvy and, as noted, very experienced with pushing Roman authorities around to get what they wanted. In response to Pilate’s repeated efforts to exonerate and release Jesus, the Jews now call into question Pilate’s allegiance to the Emperor (Jn 19.12). The import of their claim is that if Pilate will not convict Jesus of sedition and crucify him, they will appeal to the Emperor. In Pilate’s view, if the Emperor hears that Pilate did not respond with immediate severity against an insurrectionist he would lose his governorship and possibly his life. This pivot by the Jews places Pilate in an untenable position. In the political calculus, now it is either Pilate or Jesus. So, regardless of Pilate’s judgment (faith?) about Jesus and his innocence in light of the charges, he has no option left but to crucify him.
So, Pilate brings Jesus out to the place in the gubernatorial palace where official judgments are proclaimed (Jn 19.13). John notes the day and time at which Pilate’s pronunciation is taking place. This moment, as it turns out, coincides with the beginning of the preparations for Passover. It is no coincidence in John’s gospel that as the events of the Cross are about to take a significant step forward, work ceases, leaven is removed from Jewish houses, and the Passover lambs are beginning to be slaughtered. Whereas Passover remembers the Exodus from Egypt, the Cross is depicted by John and other New Testament writers as God’s Second Exodus, a powerful theological frame with substantial implications.
Rather than announcing a judgment against Jesus based on the charges, Pilate frustrates the Jews by declaring, “Behold, Your King!” (Jn 19.14). In this, Pilate gives the Jews one, final opportunity to offer their judgment either for or against Jesus. We know by now that, quite ironically, Pilate believes Jesus. However, we also know that Pilate is going to be forced to reject Jesus out of pure political expedience. The Jews issue their final rejection of Jesus at Pilate’s offer. He even asks them a second time, “Shall I crucify your King?” (Jn 19.15). Their response marks not only their ultimate condemnation of Jesus, but of the Lord God as well: “We do not have any King except for Ceasar!” (Jn 19.15). As Passover begins, the Jews declare their ultimate allegiance to the Roman Emperor rather than the God who redeemed them from slavery in Egypt and delivered them to the Promised Land. The theological import of this claim is also profound and should serve as a continual warning to both Israel and the Church.
With what is likely a sense of deep sorrow Pilate hands Jesus over to the officials to be crucified by Roman authorities (Jn 19.16). While the Jews appear to have the last word in the trial of Jesus, it is Pilate who passive-aggressively lands the final theological blow in John’s gospel. When Jesus is crucified, the sign above him which ought to indicate the charge against him simply reads, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews” in Hebrew, Greek and Latin, so that all understand. The Jews are incensed by Pilate’s positive claim about Jesus that echoes his declaration from the seat of judgment, but Pilate is done with them: “What I wrote, I wrote!” (Jn 19.22).
So, by the end of these three stories on this Maundy Thursday, the Jerusalem establishment, a close disciple of Jesus (not John, but Peter), and even Pilate as a representative of Rome have rejected Jesus. Indeed, Jesus “was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him” (Jn 1.10). The universal rejection of Jesus calls the faithful today to consider their own faith in and allegiance to Jesus and, maybe more importantly, our possibly overt and maybe more subtle “rejections” of Jesus that show up in our intentions, our words, and our actions. Few narratives in the New Testament cut so immediately to the heart of the way in which we routinely reject God out of personal, social, or political expedience than these three rejection stories from John. As we head into Good Friday, may we take them to heart.