Chapter IV: The Condemnation of Jesus
Matt. xxvii. 26-30; Mark xv. 15; John xix. 1-16.
The scourging inflicted upon Jesus was a cruel torture. Stripped of his garments and fastened by the wrists to a low column, the condemned person offered his back to blows which tore his flesh. The instrument of punishment for foreigners was not the rod of elm ward reserved for Roman citizens, but a leathern thong, armed with knobs of bone and balls of lead.
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| Scourging Christ's back. J-J Tissot. |
At every cut from this horrible lash the skin was raised in ragged furrows, blood streamed forth, and frequently the victim would fall at the lictors' feet, thereby exposing every portion of his frame to their attacks. It was no rare thing to see the sentenced man succumb under this preliminary torture; for the Roman law had not set any limits to the duration of their sufferings, like those fixed by the Sanhedrin.
No rule determined the number of blows; everything was left to the caprice of the lictors, who stopped at nothing short of a surfeit of cruelty or from sheer muscular exhaustion.
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| Scourging Christ's face. J-J Tissot. |
The Gospels recorded this whipping without entering into its details; but the silence of Jesus, which acted as a savage spur to the fury of the executioners, Pilate's plan to move the sympathies of the Jews by the spectacle of their Victim, the condition to which the Saviour was reduced, so that He could not afterwards sustain His Cross,— all the facts, indeed, makers conjure has seen a prolonged agony. It all took place in the Pretorium and under the eyes of the people, for we see that immediately after the flagellation the soldiers brought Jesus back into the court of Antonia.
And there, renewing the insulting fast just now enacted by Herod in their presence, they shouted to the others of their cohort, and together these Fellows offered a scurrilous homage to the new "King of the Jews." Jesus, mounted in derision upon a throne, was covered with a mantle of red linen such as the legionaries wore. In the meantime some of the ruffians had woven a crown of thorns with which they at once encircled a Saviour's head; then, taking a reed strong as wood, they set it in His hand. With a throne, a crown, a sceptre, nothing was lacking now to them eagles state of the new Monarch, save the worshipful fealty of His subjects; accordingly such tokens were lavished upon Him:—
"Hail, King of the Jews!" they shouted, reverently Bending the knee before Him, but arising again only to load Him with rough blows and with spittle discharged full at His face.
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| "Hail, King of the Jews!" J-J Tissot. |
During this series of outrages the reed slipped from the hand of Jesus, Who was still bound tightly and utterly helpless; suddenly they seized it, and striking that sacred head, drove the thorns fast within His brow. The compassion which Pilate always displayed for Jesus makes it impossible to believe that the Governor was a witness of this scene. However, his orders had been faithfully executed, even exceeded, and he desired to profit thereby to excite the sympathy of the people. Once more appearing upon the square of Gabbatha he bespoke their attention.
"Behold," he said to the Jews, " I bring him out hither to you, that so you may know I find no crime in him."
And Jesus came forth, the crown of thorns upon His forehead, the red robe hanging about His bloodstained body. Then they forced Him to mount the steps of the tribunal.
" Behold the man!" Pilate cried to the throng. But their hearts were shouts now against pity.
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| "Behold the man!" J-J Tissot |
" Crucify him, crucify him!" they shouted.
Their cruelty stirred the Governor's indignation; he had something like a resolution to save Jesus.
"Take him you and crucify him; for indeed I find no cause of death in him."
The Jews could not construe this as meaning a permission in any serious sense; and this was why, upon seeing all their accusations were of no avail, they at last unmasked the real reason of their relentless hatred of Jesus,— His so-called blasphemy, whereby He made Himself equal with God, a crime which the Law punished by stoning the guilty man. Rome respected the religious customs of its subjects; they therefore hoped that the Governor would end by yielding to their wishes.
" We have a law," they said, " and according to that law he ought to die; because he made himself the Son of God."
Son of God! The words threw Pilate's mind into a state of still greater uneasiness. In vain did he turn away from the Victim Whom his soldiers had been disfiguring with their heavy whips. A King just now, Jesus had suddenly risen above the ranks of mankind. Yet had not this Jew, Whose sole crime it was that He said He was the Son of God,— had He not, perhaps, justified His high claims by His calm bearing amid the brutality of His torturers? Or the mythological dreams in which Pilate's childhood had been cradled, the soldiers' own story, how last night they had been flung back to earth at His word, the vision appearing to his wife, these all came crowding back upon his mind.
" What did they mean by this 'Son of God?' Whence came he?"
More trouble than ever, he bade them bring back the Saviour; then alone, and face to face with Him, he said:—
" Whence are you?"
Jesus made no reply.
" What!" exclaimed the Governor, " do you not speak to me? Do you not know that I have both power to crucify you and the power to break your bonds asunder?"
"You should have no power over Me," responded Jesus, " if it were not given you from above."
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| Jesus before Pilate. J-J Tissot. |
Then comparing Pilate's crime with that of the Jews, He distinguished between the guilt of hatred and that of weakness:—
" And this is why the crime of him who delivers Me into your hands is a greater than yours."
Yielding finally to the voice of conscience the Governor determined to release Jesus; again he stepped forth from the Pretorium, whereupon a new storm of cries assailed him.
" If you release this man you are no friend of Caesar; whoever makes himself the King is Caesar's enemy."
Terrible threat, for the Caesar on that day was Tiberius, and no-one there but knew what powers lay in the reach of informers. Even Herod had not been able to defend himself against the statements of these Jews; his son Archelaus had lately been deposed at their instance; little more than this would be enough to overwhelm Pilate. Straightway losing sight of Jesus his mind pictured only that suspicious master of his world, who, from the rocky Heights of Caprea, made the earth tremble; saw in a flash the Jews summoning him before this inexorable judge,— the crime of high treason charged against him,— his fortune plundered,— then exile and death. He could make no stand against these phantoms of his imagination; fear of the future overmastering every other feeling he commanded Jesus to be brought out, and himself ascended the judgment-seat. It was the eve of the Pasch, about the sixth hour (between half past ten and eleven in the morning); the Jews were surging wildly about the high tribunal where Pilate, although become that all of their hatred, strove still to command respect by invading his terrors under a semblance of haughty contempt.
"And this, then, is your King?" he began again.
But his voice was drowned by the cries of the multitude.
"Away with him, away with him!"
"Crucify him!"
"This is your King; shall I crucify your King?"
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| "We have no King but Caesar" J-J Tissot. |
The one last word gave the spur to his tardy resolution.
"We have no King but Caesar," shouted the chief priests.
Vanquished at last he delivered Jesus into their hands.
His crime was to be severely punished; three years had not elapsed when, upon the depositions of certain Samaritans, Vitellius, Proconsul of Syria, delegated Marcellus there to take in hand the affairs of Judaea, and enjoined Pilate to proceed to Rome, and there clear himself of the accusations brought against him. The fearful misgivings to which he had succumbed in sacrificing Jesus became realities; condemned in his turn, despoiled of all his property, he was sent into exile. Vienna still points out, upon the banks of the Rhone, a high pyramid which passes for the tomb of Pilate. We are told by various traditions that it was here, when dragged down by remorse, the banished man put a violent end to his existence. Still other religions would have us believe that, in the midst of his misfortunes, he was sought out by the grace of Jesus; and the Abyssinian Church finds a place in the ranks of the saints for this week-spirited man who, nevertheless, was a Christian, says Tertullian, in the fugitive, impotent longings of his soul.
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