Pilate saith unto him, What is truth? The aphorism of Lord Bacon, "'What is truth?' said jesting Pilate, and did not wait for an answer," scarcely represents the reality oft-he case. Pilate was not scornfully jesting with a metaphysical problem, nor professing himself hopelessly baffled in search for it. The language was not the utterance of irrepressible homage to his mysterious Prisoner, or heartfelt sympathy with him. For on this supposition why did he not wait for some more words of strange unearthly wisdom? Nor does he go so far in his skepticism as Pliny the Eider did when he said, "that there is only one thing certain, viz. that there is nothing certain;" but as a man of the world having to do with Roman authority or intrigue and Jewish fanaticism, Pilate despised earnestness and zeal, and was utterly unable to believe in the existence of a world or region where any higher reality than force prevailed. But the governor was now, with his narrow range of thought, strongly convinced that Jesus was utterly innocent of the charge brought against him. The unanswered question is equivalent to this—What has truth to do with kingship? What has the vague shadowy region over which this poor king reigns to do with plots against Caesar? He saw enough to induce him to break off the interview within the Praetorium, and he proceeded, though vainly, to deliver a verdict on the case. When he had said this, he went out to the Jews, and said, I find no crime in him. Here, however, must be introduced the scenes described by Matthew, Mark, and especially by Luke—scenes of loud and angry dispute and renewed and fierce accusation. In all three accounts, after the admission that he was King of the Jews, the loud, fierce accusations followed in which our Lord, notwithstanding the repeated summons of Pilate, "answered nothing." At this the governor marveled greatly. It is not impossible that the first question which Pilate put to him within the Praetorium was renewed and laconically answered with the σὺ λέγεις, as before I but all the wild roar of the chief priests and people could extract nothing more. This silence in face of the accusation of the mob astonished Pilate, and made him more than ever convinced of the innocence of his Prisoner. B. Weiss shows conclusively how much light this interview with Pilate throws on the synoptic narrative; that, in fact, Pilate's whole conduct is only explicable on the supposition that he had received cogent reasons to disarm all political mistrust. Westcott says, "It is of great interest to compare this confession before Pilate with the corresponding confession before the high priest (Matthew 26:64). The one addressed to the Jews is in the language of prophecy, the other addressed to a Roman appeals to the verdict of universal conscience. The one speaks of a future manifestation of glory, the other of a present manifestation of truth."
(c) [Without the Praetorium.] The Roman trial continued without the Praetorium, where Pilate declared Christ innocent, and made another effort to save him. The Barabbas-proposal. Before the scene which John here introduces with a but—as though it followed immediately upon the utterance of a verdict of acquittal—Luke tells us that casual reference was made to the circumstance that Jesus was a Galilaean, and was in Herod's jurisdiction. Eager to quit himself' of a troublesome presence and business, Pilate caught at the expedient of sending Jesus at once to the court of Herod (Luke 23:6-12). This issuing in no result except in fresh and hideous mockery of the King of kings, and in a renewed protestation of his innocence and harmlessness, so far as the Roman Pilate or the Herodian tetrarch could discover, Pilate offered to scourge the Son of God, and release him. The utter meanness and cowardice of his offer to add ignominious pain and insult to the brutal mockeries of Herod and his soldiers, brands Pilate with eternal shame. As soon as the word "release" broke upon their ears, there was a reminder from the people that Pilate should follow at the feast the custom for some time in vogue, of releasing a prisoner. Now, there was a notorious criminal, who had stirred up a bloody insurrection in the city, one which had resulted in murder. He may have been popular among the vehement anti-imperial party for some seditious proceedings against constituted authorities; he may, in fact, really have been guilty of the very charge brought wickedly against the holy Jesus. This is only conjecture. But there he stood—Barabbas, and, according to some manuscripts, "Jesus" also by name, "Son of the Father," but a violent man, a λῃστής, statue with crime, whether he were a Gaulonite or not. The notion of releasing Barabbas, in accordance with a time honored custom, did, according to Luke, originate first of all with some of the people; and this apparent difference between the synoptic narrative and John's is represented and referred to in this Gospel by the introduction of a πάλιν (verse 40). For although John does not mention the first attempt to secure the safety of Barabbas, he implied that the infernal shout, "Not this Man, but Barabbas!" had already burst upon his ears, and was repeated so soon as Pilate had exclaimed, as John briefly reports, Ye have a custom, that I should release unto you one at the Passover. We know nothing of the origin of this "custom," nor is it elsewhere referred to. The two classes into which critics are divided about the "day of our Lord's death," here take opposite views as to the meaning of the phrase, ἐν τῷ πάσχα. The one class press the fact that the Paschal meal must be over, and that this must have been the first day of unleavened bread, in order to justify this expression; the other critics urge that since the feast had not commenced, Pilate was prepared to grant release in time for Barabbas to take his place with his friends in all the national ceremonies. The phrase, according to Meyer and others, is so indefinite that it may most certainly belong to both the 14th and 15th days of Nisan, and no conclusive argument can, from its use, be drawn in favor of either day. Will ye therefore that I release unto you the King of the Jews? Again therefore they cried all, Not this Man, but Barabbas! Now Barabbas was a robber. Possibly Pilate wished to find out whether among the ὄχλος there were any sympathizers with Jesus, who might be gratified at the expense of the hated priests; for he "knew that by reason of envy they had delivered up Jesus to him." He wished to set the multitude and the priesthood at variance, and to save Jesus through their mutual recriminations. He would have made a diversion in favor of his Prisoner. He adroitly suspected that some of the surging crowd might have been the friends or accomplices of Jesus, and he would have been gratified to free himself from the responsibility of slaying an innocent man. The phraseology of Mark suggests that Pilate would have been justified in such a conjecture, for a momentary pause occurred. There were some symptoms of wavering in the crowd. But the suggestions of the chief priests passed to the people. Matthew (Matthew 27:20) says, "The chief priests and elders persuaded ( ἔπεισαν) the multitudes that they should demand Barabbas, and destroy Jesus." They needed some persuasion, then: but, alas! they yielded to it. Mark (Mark 15:11) is still more explicit: "The chief priests stirred up the people( ἀνέσεισαν), in order that he might release Barabbas unto them." The double phrase sets forth, in vivid touches, the eager circulation to and fro among the crowds of the hot- headed and malignant priests and elders, who thus secured, not without some difficulty, a popular confirmation of their malignant scheme. "NOT THIS MAN, BUT BARABBAS!" was the repeated cry of a stupefied crowd. The memory of all the gracious words and life-giving actions of Jesus did not subdue the raging passion of their lust; they could neither see with their eyes, nor hear with their ears, nor understand with their hearts. The light that was in them was darkened. They preferred that a murderer should be granted to them. "Not this Man, but Barabbas!" is their verdict. Human power and popular feeling and corporate conscience reached the bottomless abyss of degradation. Jerusalem that killed the prophets would have none of him. Even human nature itself must bear the shame which by this cry for vengeance against goodness was branded upon its brow for ever. Through this daemonic hatred of the noblest and the best, manifested by the world, the world is itself condemned. "Who is he," said John afterwards, "that overcometh the world? Even he who believeth that Jesus is the Son of God." The world has made its Sesostris, its Tiberius, its Nero, its Antinous, into sons of God; the world has ever cried, "Not this Man"—not Jesus of Nazareth—but "Jesus Barabbas is son of God." It will find out its mistake too late.
The synoptic narrative had already made the Church familiar with other details more or less connected with this incident, and which preceded the final sentence. John, who followed his Master as closely as possible, was acquainted with some interesting facts, full of suggestion, which throw additional light upon the conduct of Pilate, and bring forth some sublime traits in the character and bearing of our Lord. From the synoptists we learn that Pilate struggled for some considerable time to get his own way, and he remonstrated repeatedly with the people concerning their choice of Barabbas, the murderer and brigand, and their refusal to recall their malignant deliverance of Jesus to him as a malefactor. The bare idea that this gentle, silent, magnanimous Sufferer, bereft of his friends, mocked by Herod, deserted by his disciples, should have the faintest shadow of a claim to sovereignty in the only sense in which Pilate could understand such an idea, revolted his common sense. The message from his wife (Matthew 27:19) had furthermore excited his semi-superstitious fears, and he maundered in a feeble fashion, "What shall I do with Jesus that is called Christ?"—"with him whom ye say is (accused of being) King of the Jews?" and for the first time the ominous and terrible cry is returned, "CRUCIFY HIM!" They do not ask that he be speared or beheaded, or treated like a convicted aspirant or usurper; nay, they will not be pacified until the doom of a common malefactor, the shameful death of a criminal slave, is meted out to him. Pilate is amazed, and even horrified, by the intensity of their spite and the cruelty of their hatred. Once and again Pilate said, "Why, what evil has he done? I found in him no proved occasion of any kind of death." The tumult was rising every moment, and Pilate would have been glad to compromise the matter by sending Barabbas to the cross; and before he took the course dictated by the angry mob, he washed his hands in a basin of water, and proclaimed the fact that he had, and would take, no responsibility for the judicial murder to which they would hound him. "I am guiltless of the blood of this Man: see you to it" (Matthew 27:24, Matthew 27:25). Many commentators refer this proceeding of Pilate to the moment when he finally uttered the cursed verdict: Ibis ad crucem. Matthew's account is much more concise at this point than John's. Heathen writers had repeatedly scoffed at the notion of water washing away the guilt of blood. We can hardly suppose that Pilate meant more than a disdainful repudiation of any sympathy with the infuriated crowd (see Steinmeyer). This act, instead of appeasing, served to madden the fury of the populace, who shouted in bitter earnest, "His blood be upon us, and upon our children"—a sentence of their own, which rankled in their memories, and came back a few months afterwards with grim earnestness (Acts 5:28). "Then," says St. Matthew, "Pilate released Barabbas to them." To do this, the governor would return to the Praetorinm, and Jesus was thus once more face to face with him. Probably the gorgeous robe which Herod had thrown over his fettered limbs had been taken from him; and then Pilate, bewildered, weak, with some ulterior motive of staving off the madness of the Jews, and satiating their inhuman thirst for blood, adopted another expedient.
HOMILETICS