“Back to the basics: Suffered under Pontius Pilate”
Matthew 27:24-26
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
A little over sixty years ago, back in June of 1961, while archaeologist Maria Canivet was digging near an ancient theater in Caesarea-by-the-sea, she stumbled upon a 2 x 2 ½ foot limestone slab that was holding up a set of stairs. Apparently, it had first been cut sometime early in the first century to dedicate a temple in honor of Tiberius Caesar, then was moved years later to support that set of stairs. And while she could have ignored it as just another chunk of limestone rubble, when she dug a little deeper, she found an inscription.
This is what it said: “Pontius Pilate, Prefect of Judea, has dedicated this temple to the Divine Augustus.”
Why is that stone so important? Because in a time when scholars questioned whether or not Pilate even existed, it was the first tangible proof, outside of the Bible, that he really did!
Today, it’s called “The Pilate Stone,” and it’s on display in the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.
The Bible tells us something about Pontius Pilate. In fact, it tells us quite a lot about Pontius Pilate. I’ll read the words of Matthew chapter 27: “So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, ‘I am innocent of this Man’s blood; see to it yourselves.’ And all the people answered, ‘His blood be on us and on our children!’ Then he released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered Him to be crucified” (Matthew 27:24-26).
It’s been said that, with its three simple sentences, the Apostles’ Creed provides the “earthiness” of the history of our redemption. It tells of what happened on earth in a particular place and time. So the faith that we believe and confess is not mythical or imaginary. It’s not some version of a general truth, nor is it a philosophy like any other philosophy, for the man or woman on the street. Instead, it’s about what our God has done for sinners in need of eternal rescue. It’s specific and datable.
This is not some “once upon a time” story. It really happened in a real place and at a real time.
In the words of English novelist Dorothy Sayers, “Among both gods and men, Jesus Christ is unique. And while there have been incarnate “gods” a-plenty and slain-and-resurrected “gods” not a few, He’s the only God who has a date in history.”
Also, it’s been said that these words, “suffered under Pontius Pilate,” are the first indication in the Creed that there’s anything wrong at all. So far, it’s simply bounced along, telling us that God the Father Almighty created the heavens and the earth and that Jesus, His only Son, our Lord, was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. Up until now, there hasn’t been a hint that anything’s out of place at all.
But now, all of a sudden, like a mangy dog wandering into a perfectly beautiful room, smelling up the place, we come crashing into the words: “suffered under Pontius Pilate.”
Which, if you don’t mind me saying, makes us wonder--why doesn’t the Creed bother to mention all the other things that Jesus said and did? Why not say instead, “I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, healed the lame, gave hearing to the deaf and sight to the blind, cleansed lepers, taught thousands, multiplied fish and bread and sent disciples to preach and teach in His name”? Why not say, “He traveled throughout all of Israel. He participated in religious festivals. He calmed storms. He walked on water. He washed His disciples’ feet”? Why does the Creed make a “beeline” from “born of the virgin Mary” to “suffered under Pontius Pilate?
Because that’s the reason He came. He came to suffer. He came to die.
In fact, if you think about it, His whole life was a life of suffering. He was born in a stable and laid in a manger, because there wasn’t even enough room in the inn. As an infant, He escaped with His family to Egypt because a vicious king wanted to kill Him. The people of His own hometown once tried to throw Him off a cliff. And later He’d say, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but God’s Son, the Son of Man, doesn’t even have a place to lay His head.” Even more, Judas betrayed Him, Peter denied Him and all the rest ran away.
As the Creed says, Jesus suffered. He suffered a torturous beating. He suffered humiliation at the hands of His accusers. He suffered rejection at the hands of His followers. He suffered a deep sadness of heart. He suffered in Gethsemane. He suffered on Calvary. He suffered physically, emotionally and spiritually.
As Isaiah once promised hundreds of years before: “He was despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).
And why even say the name--”He suffered under Pontius Pilate”? Why not Annas or Caiaphas or the Sadducees or the Pharisees? Why not the Jewish nation or those Roman soldiers or the howling mob or, for that matter, the entire human race? Why place all the blame on Pilate?
He said it himself--not a boast, but a statement of sober fact. As Jesus stood in judgment before him, he said, “Don’t you realize I have the power either to release You or to crucify You?” (John 19:10).
All the power--legally, politically, economically and militarily--all of it rested on that one man: Pontius Pilate, Prefect, Procurator, fifth governor of the Roman province of Judea and Samaria.
Humanly speaking, Jesus will not suffer unless Pilate commands it. He will not go to the cross unless Pilate authorizes it. He will not be buried unless Pilate allows it to be done.
And though the thought never even once crossed his mind, this one man was the pivotal moment in the history of the work of our redemption.
And while today we remember Adolf Hitler for gassing millions and Saddam Hussein for killing thousands, Pontius Pilate will go down in history as the one who killed Jesus.
In his book The Creed in Slow Motion, author Ronald Knox wrote, “I can never think of Pilate except as a hopelessly weak man, a fuffler and a shuffler who never ought to have got his job as procurator at all. The trouble about him, I suppose, was that he was so anxious to please everybody. He wanted to please Caiaphas. He wanted to please the Jewish mob. He wanted to please his wife. He wanted to please Herod. He wanted to please our Lord. He wanted to please St. Joseph of Arimathea. And like most people who want to please everybody, he pleased nobody.”
And that’s why even today, Sunday after Sunday, we, along with billions of fellow Christians in churches all around the world, will say until the end of time, “I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate.”
Pilate knew full well he was dealing with someone they despised. Jesus was everything they were not. He was wise, learned, profound, compassionate, sympathetic, tenderhearted, powerful, selfless. He didn’t fill His own pockets by abusing the poor like they did.
Besides, He was a model citizen. He showed respect and obedience to the power of Rome. He was never an insurrectionist, never a revolutionary. He told people to pay their taxes. And when they tried to make Him King, He wouldn’t let them.
Still these leaders of the Jews launched their charges against Him and tried to support their case with whatever flimsy evidence they could find. And when they finished, the turn came for the defense to enter its own reply and to give counterevidence. The stakes were high and the Jews wanted nothing less than death.
But Jesus didn’t have a lawyer and He didn’t offer a defense for Himself whatsoever. Pilate had tried many other cases. He often condemned men to death and sentenced them to die. But this case was different, like none he had ever tried before.
If you think about it, nothing would have made him happier than to put Jesus to death, to give the people what they wanted and to rid himself of another problem with the Jews.
He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t rise to that position because he didn’t have a sense of justice. If there was any possible way, he would stand for what was right.
But this was strange. This Man standing before him was innocent and he knew it. In fact, he said, three times, “I find no fault in Him.” Three times, he declared Jesus, “Not guilty.” He knew there was no way He deserved the penalty of death.
So not knowing what else to do, Pilate took Jesus aside, by himself, for a few moments. And they talked, just the two of them. The one who bore Caesar’s full authority and power in that time and place stood face to face with Jesus. At his command, soldiers marched, children huddled in doorways and men cowered in fear.
“Who are You,” Pilate asked, “and where did You come from?”
“My kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus said.
Obviously not. Jesus had no palace, no soldiers and no army. There were clothes on His back, but not a coin in His pocket. His disciples had scattered in fear. Pilate knew He was nothing but a hapless, hopeless and helpless Galilean.
“Don’t You realize I have power to free You or to crucify You?” he asked.
And Jesus replied, “You would have no power over Me if it were not given to you from above.”
So what could he do? How could he deal with this so-called King of the Jews?
Suddenly, shouts of “Crucify!” began to puncture the air. “You crucify Him,” Pilate said, “for I find no basis for a charge against Him.”
“But we have a law,” they said, “and according to that law, He must die, for He claimed to be the Son of God.”
And with a twinkle in his eye, Caiaphas said, “And if you dare release Him, you are no friend of Caesar. If he gets wind of this, he’ll pull that golden ring from your finger and your life will end in shame.”
And in that moment, Pilate crumbled. It was either save Jesus or save himself, so he chose to save himself. And as he washed his hands before them, he uttered his one last word of condemnation. “Staurotheto,” he said. “Let Him be crucified.”
Why did Pilate want Jesus to die? It was all very simple. He wanted to please the people. He wanted to satisfy the angry crowd. Just give them what they asked for, and then they’ll go away. Go ahead, release Barabbas, an insurrectionist and murderer, and crucify the sinless Son of God.
And so it was done. Three iron nails, six agonizing hours, deep darkness and Jesus, our Savior, was dead.
He wore my crown of thorns, that I may wear His crown of glory. He wore my rags, that I may wear His robe of righteousness. He bore my shame, that I may bear His honor. He endured my sufferings, that I might share His glory.
In September of 1967, Charles Schulz of Peanuts fame, penned a cartoon of Lucy, holding a sheet of paper and a pen. First, she goes to Snoopy and says, “Here…sign this…It absolves me from all blame.” Then she goes to Violet and says, “Sign this, please…It absolves me from all blame.” Then she goes to Linus and Shroeder and Peppermint Patty. Finally, at the end, she goes to Charlie Brown. And as he too signs it, she says, “No matter what happens any place or any time in the world, this absolves me from all blame!” And as she walks away, Charlie says, “That must be a nice document to have.”
We don’t have a document like Lucy does, but we do have a Savior who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, and who suffered under Pontius Pilate.
And for that we give our God all glory and praise.
Keep us from the sins of Pilate, Lord Jesus, choosing safety and convenience over what is right. Teach us to hate the sin that brought You to the cross. Abide with us that we may abide with You. This we ask in Your name. Amen