24 So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this (righteous) man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” [Matthew 27:24, NRSV]
Tintoretto’s Christ Before Pilate, 1566.
At the praetorium, Pilate listened carefully to what Jesus said and drew the inference: “So then, you really are a King!” Jesus’ reply suggests that Pilate got it right: “You say that I am a King …” But Jesus was a rabbi, not a traitor. His kingdom is centered around revelation, not revolution; around truth, not treason.
St John’s Gospel begins with a Prologue that speaks of the Incarnation in stunning terms: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father” (John 1:14). Jesus came into the world to bear witness to what Pope John Paul II in Veritatis Splendor (The Splendor of the Truth) calls “the Absolute Truth” which is the Word and Will of God. This was the purpose for his Incarnation; this was his mission in life – to testify to the truth. And everyone who embraces him as the promised Messiah (who “belongs to the truth”) hears his voice (John 18:37).
Little did Pilate the interrogator realize that in fact he was being quietly interrogated inside. Faced with the challenge to accept Jesus’ teaching as the truth, Pilate’s response reveals a tragic weakness in character. Out comes a question, which betrays his complete cynicism as a politician. He does not ask, “What is the truth?” Such a question would indicate that Pilate believes in truth but does not know what the truth is. But he asks, “What is truth?” Now that is a completely different matter. It exposes Pilate’s total disbelief in such a thing as truth. Truth is whatever is convenient, what you want it to be. It is clear that in his political life, Pilate has long given up on ever knowing anything to be absolutely true.
- The lasting lesson, as relevant 2,000 years ago as it is today, that we learn from this narrative is that, whenever we lose faith in the fact that there is absolute truth (as in the norms ordained by God), there is only one standard by which our actions are measured, and that is political correctness. We will not do what is right, but what is profitable.
And so, as Pilate asked, “What is truth?” we realise that Pope Benedict XVI has his finger on the pulse of modern humanity and its tendency towards relativising the truth – “You see it this way, but I see it that way, so who is to tell who is right?” Jesus and Pilate were clearly talking at cross purposes: Jesus was focused on the truth of and from God, while Pilate was concerned with what might be useful to him as political “truth” to preserve his political career. He would not do what was right, even though he had already come to the realization that Jesus was innocent.
The episode of the trial of Jesus before Pontius Pilate is well attested in all four Gospels. These accounts highlight a variety of points. They press upon our conscience a string of urgent issues. These issues demand Christian attention, especially at this time when the world is once again engulfed in two bloody wars in Europe (Ukraine) and the Middle East (Gaza). We watch daily with horror and wrenching hearts all those wanton killings and unnecessary deaths and human suffering. We see that the Gospel narrative of Pilate’s hand-washing is not just exposing one politician’s moral ambiguity and political expediency two thousand years ago; it clearly nails the hypocrisy and heartless complicity of the American-led western powers in both wars today.
Pilate’s legacy stands as a poignant reminder of the complex interplay between power, morality, and treacherous policies. His pivotal role in the crucifixion narrative is marked by moral ambiguity and political expediency. We see the same hypocrisy in foreign policies of many Western nations even as they cause horrific deaths and humanitarian crises across the globe. They blindly opt to do what they deem as “politically correct,” even though it is outrageously wrong morally. Like Pilate, their decisions rest upon expedience, again handing Jesus over to those who are crying for his blood. So daily we watch political leaders acting not out of moral principles, but out of pure pragmatism. The future of humanity is seriously at stake. The enigmatic washing of hands, the reluctant choices made under pressure, and the ugly devastation to the world, compel us to open our eyes to the conflicting forces at work both in the realm of faith and in the annals of history. In our personal lives – in business and in leisure – how are decisions made when impacted by conflicting choices?
The famous Venetian artist Tintoretto offers masterful guide for reflection in his depiction of Christ Before Pilate (1566-67). It has the power of drawing us into the biblical narrative.
Pilate knows that it was out of envy (Matt 27:18; Mk 15:10) that the chief priests had delivered Jesus up to him. He knows that Jesus is innocent and thrice told the whipped-up, murderous crowd so (Luke 18:38; 23:20,22). He even offered to release Jesus instead of the notorious convicted killer Barabbas, but all to no avail. He hears the thunderous chorus of the mob demanding the release of Barabbas and the crucifixion of Jesus. He hears too the Jewish religious leaders’ menacing threat to report him to Caesar (John 19:12). Pilate can scarcely afford a riot; Rome would not forgive him. Sacking, further punishment, and downright disgrace do not seem like an attractive alternative. He is conflicted. To preserve his political career and more, he gives in to the mob who clamours for Jesus’ blood. In conflicts, truth is always the first casualty.
The truth of the matter is, Pilate is wide awake with reference to the innocence of Jesus – from his own investigation and from what his wife told him about the message she received in her dream (Matt 27:19). Sitting on the judgment seat, he is about to commit the gravest of sins of injustice by consciously sending an innocent man to die just to save his own skin.
See how Tintoretto tears the miserable man to shreds.
- Christ the victim occupies the centre of the picture. He is God’s appointed Judge of the world. Yet he has to suffer a fake trial before Pilate, a duplicitous Roman governor of a far-flung region. In true humility, Jesus endures humiliation. He suffers silently, even refusing to speak in his defence, for when your enemies’ minds are made up to put you down and do you in, keeping silent is the appropriate and dignified way (per Pope Francis).
- So Tintoretto places Jesus at the centre of the picture. He alone is clothed in brilliant white. The spotlight shines on him. He does what is right by God, so he stands tall before all. Through it all, he remains calm, dignified and at peace.
- By contrast, even though sitting on his judgment seat, Pilate recedes into a dark background, his stature reduced. He occupies a big office, but he looks small. He who does not do what is right by the truth, is portrayed as a hypocritical bureaucratic judge. He becomes a fidgety and peaceless wreck.
- Conscience pricks. Pilate looks away to his left, unable to face Jesus, even as he attempts to wash his hands of sin and guilt and a servant pouring water on his hands to the right. This public hand-washing is a lame attempt to justify himself. By this very gesture, he commits the folly of laying bare to the world that his guilt is eating him up inside – that his sin actually piques him to the soul.
- Yet, in miscarriages of justice, public hand-washing does not absolve a haunted conscience. Tintoretto suggests that guilt doggedly follows sin and will not relent. Without repentance, there is no respite. The scourge marks on the pillar are permanent reminders.
Copyright © Dr. Jeffrey & Angie Goh, March 2024. All rights reserved.
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