Luke 23:4–7 (ESV)
Then Pilate said to the chief priests and the crowds, “I find no guilt in this man.” But they were urgent, saying, “He stirs up the people, teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee even to this place.”
When Pilate heard this, he asked whether the man was a Galilean. And when he learned that he belonged to Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him over to Herod, who was himself in Jerusalem at that time.
So, Jesus’s trial is some kind of kangaroo court?
Yes, but watch how Pilate cleverly finds a way to kick this rabble out of his office. He’s a high-level administrator, and he’s annoyed by having to deal with this. So, in Luke 23:4–5, he says, “I find no guilt in this man,” and they reply with the charge, “He stirs up the people, teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee even to this place.”
Oh no! Teaching and stirring! What poppycock.
Yeah, but then Pilate notices an out. In Luke 23:6–7 he says,
When Pilate heard this, he asked whether the man was a Galilean. And when he learned that he belonged to Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him over to Herod, who was himself in Jerusalem at that time.
They’ve just told him whom he can delegate this to—Herod. Be gone. Go pester him.
Pilate sounds like a seasoned bureaucrat, whose patience has run out.
Yes, the point is that Rome didn’t take crucifixion lightly. They didn’t just crucify anyone at the drop of a hat. Thus, their subjects didn’t see the Roman Empire as being all about crucifixion. They see it as a marvelous civilization, full of modern wonders—roads, aqueducts, baths, sanitation, law and order.
Right. Pilate’s actions show that he was a professional. He was taking this seriously—as he should. You don’t get yourself publicly tortured to death without doing something that must be deterred. That means anything that assaults the Roman system, thus ruining things for everyone.
Interestingly, the Greek word (ληστής, lase-tase) for the criminals we see crucified in the Bible can mean either robber or insurrectionist. Their crimes are the worst because they assault the functioning of the Roman system itself. The thief on the cross was a lasetase, and so was Barabbas.
Robber and insurrectionist are two very dissimilar things. What’s up with one word meaning both things?
Think of it as something like the word “felon.” Both meanings are similar in that they are worthy of crucifixion, so I’d assume that’s what it basically means.
How is Jesus going to get convicted of that?
The chief priests return from talking to Herod and try to make the case that Jesus’s claim to be a king makes him a lasetase too. Their case is pathetic; any large empire has lesser kings (e.g., Herod). They need to show that Jesus is noncompliant, which they don’t do.
Sounds like an epic fail. How did they manage to pull that rabbit out of a hat?
They stir up the crowds to the point that Pilate either has to cave in to their demands or risk a riot (and unwanted attention from Rome). He has the power to put down a riot by force, but assumes, rightly, that Rome would hear about it. He wants no part of that.
Oh yeah, if this lands on Caesar’s desk, Pilate could have a shortened career—or life.
So Pilate caves and is furious at being manipulated, but he still has some cards to play. He ceremoniously washes his hands and then launches one of the most famous digs in all history.
Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Aramaic, in Latin, and in Greek. So the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but rather, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” Pilate answered, “What I have written I have written.” — John 19:19–22 (ESV)
Take that, you bozos!
The priests’ strategy was clever. They knew that Pilate had to keep the peace or risk Rome’s wrath.
But it backfired big time. Pilate’s dig did real, long-term damage. The chief priests didn’t want being “King of the Jews” to be declared a category of lasetase. That’s far more important to them than the crucifixion of a single guy they hate.
So, in a way, they just painted themselves into a corner.
And, of course, their plan is going to backfire even more when Jesus rises from the dead. They didn’t even get rid of the guy they were trying to get rid of.
But aren’t you supposed to be making the case for that happening?
Yes, but I need to set that up by explaining crucifixion—what He rose from—and I’m not done. I still need to explain how crucifixion kills.
Gee, sounds like fun. I’ll see you tomorrow for the next installment.
