B. Jesus, Pilate, and the Jews (18:28–19:15)
28 So they are leading Jesus from Caiaphas into the praetorium—it was early morning—and they themselves did not go into the praetorium, so that they might not be defiled but might eat the Passover.
29 Therefore Pilate came outside to them, and said, “What charge do you bring against this man?” 30 They answered and said to him, “If he were not doing what is bad, we would not have handed him over to you.” 31 Then Pilate said to them, “You take him, and judge him according to your law.” The Jews said to him, “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone,” 32 so that the word of Jesus that he said signifying by what death he was going to die might be fulfilled.
33 Then Pilate went in again into the praetorium and summoned Jesus and said to him, “You are the King of the Jews?” 34 Jesus answered, “Are you saying this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” 35 Pilate answered, “Am I a Jew? Your nation and the chief priests handed you over to me. What have you done?” 36 Jesus answered, “My kingship is not from this world. If my kingship were from this world, my officers would fight so that I would not be handed over to the Jews. But now my kingship is not from here.” 37 So Pilate said to him, “So you are a king!” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king; I was born for this, and for this I have come into the world, that I might testify to the truth. Everyone who is from the truth hears my voice.” 38 Pilate said to him, “What is truth?”
And having said this, he went outside again to the Jews, and he says to them, “I find in him no probable cause, 39 and there is a custom you have that I release to you one at the Passover. So shall I release to you the King of the Jews?” 40 Then they cried out again, saying, “Not this one but Barabbas.” And Barabbas was a terrorist.
19:1 So then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. 2 And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head and wrapped a purple robe around him, 3 and they kept coming at him and saying, “Hail, King of the Jews,” and giving him slaps in the face.
4 And Pilate again went outside, and says to them, “Look, I am leading him outside to you, so that you might know that I find in him no probable cause.” 5 Then Jesus came outside, wearing the thorny crown and the purple robe. And he said to them, “Look, the man!” 6 So when the chief priests and the officers saw him, they cried out, saying, “Crucify, crucify!” Pilate said to them, “You take him, and crucify, for I find in him no probable cause.” 7 The Jews answered him, “We have a law, and according to the law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.”
8 Then, when Pilate heard this word, he was all the more afraid, 9 and he went into the praetorium again, and he says to Jesus, “Where are you from?” But Jesus gave him no answer. 10 So Pilate says to him, “Are you not speaking to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you, and I have authority to crucify you?” 11 Jesus answered him, “You would have no authority against me at all if it were not given to you from above. For this reason the one who handed me over to you has greater sin.” 12 From this time, Pilate kept seeking to release him, but the Jews cried out, saying, “If you release this one, you are not a friend of Caesar. Everyone who makes himself king opposes Caesar. 13 Then Pilate, when he heard these words, led Jesus outside and sat down on the judge’s bench at a place called Stone Pavement, and in Hebrew Gabbatha. 14 Now it was the preparation of the Passover; it was about the sixth hour. And he says to the Jews, “Look, your king!” 15 They then cried out, “Take, take! Crucify him!” Pilate says to them, “Shall I crucify your king?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king except Caesar!”
When Jesus is transferred from the Chief Priest’s courtyard to the praetorium, the headquarters of Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor (18:28), a series of scenes follow, alternating back and forth between the “outside” (18:29, 38; 19:4, 5, 13) and inside of the praetorium. The alternation is necessary because the Jewish leaders who led Jesus to Pilate “did not go into the praetorium, so that they might not be defiled, but might eat the Passover” (18:28). Again the narrative features an enclosed space, not the Chief Priest’s courtyard this time but the residence of a Gentile, a place of uncleanness for the devout Jew. The notice that they stayed outside the praetorium (v. 28) governs the seven scenes that follow, as Pilate accommodates himself to their religious scruples:
1. Pilate “went outside” and addressed the Jews (18:29–32).
2. Pilate “went in again into the praetorium” and questioned Jesus (18:33–38a).
3. Pilate “went outside again” and told the Jews they had no case against Jesus (18:38b–40).
4. Pilate had Jesus flogged and mocked, evidently within the praetorium (19:1–3).
5. Pilate “again went outside,” brought Jesus out, and said, “Look, the man!” (19:4–7).
6. Pilate “went into the praetorium again,” and again questioned Jesus (19:8–11)
7. Pilate “led Jesus out,” and said, “Look, your king!” (19:12–15).
In the end, Pilate will accommodate himself as well to the desires of the chief priests to have Jesus executed (see 19:16), but not before exploring thoroughly the issue of whether or not Jesus is claiming to be a king. His questioning of Jesus convinces him that whatever kind of a king Jesus might be, he is no threat to the Roman emperor. Three times he tells the Jews, “I find in him no probable cause” (18:38; 19:4, 7). And yet, fascinated with the phrase, “the King of the Jews” (see 18:33; 19:3), he repeatedly uses it to mock them: “Shall I release to you the King of the Jews?” (18:39); “Look, your king!” (19:13); “Shall I crucify your king?” (19:15). Ironically, those who at the beginning of the narrative refused even to enter the Roman praetorium for fear of ritual defilement, in the end cry out, “We have no king except Caesar!” (v. 15b).
28 The narrative shifts back again from Peter (vv. 25–27) to Jesus the following morning: “So they are leading Jesus from Caiaphas into the praetorium—it was early morning—and they themselves did not go into the praetorium, so that they might not be defiled but might eat the Passover” (v. 28). Jesus is “led” from the Chief Priest’s courtyard, just as he was “led” to it in the first place (v. 13), but this time it is not specified who “they” are who are doing the leading. Before, it was “the band of soldiers and the captain and the officers of the Jews” (v. 12), but here the comment that “they themselves” stayed outside the praetorium to avoid ritual defilement makes it clear that “they” no longer include “the band of soldiers” (that is, the Roman cohort) with its “captain.” They will in fact be identified in due course as “the Jews” (vv. 31, 38; 19:7, 12), or, more specifically, “the chief priests and the officers” (19:6). Once Jesus had been handed over to the Jewish Chief Priest, the Roman cohort and its captain seem to have made their exit. Now the process is reversed, as the Jewish priests and officers hand him back again to the Roman authority.
The “praetorium” was the headquarters and residence in Jerusalem of the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate (see Mt 27:27//Mk 15:16). There was another praetorium at Caesarea on the coast (known as “Herod’s praetorium,” Acts 23:35), where a later governor, Felix, had his headquarters, and which Pilate may have used as well. Roman governors seem to have commandeered preexisting Herodian structures, and it is debated whether Pilate’s praetorium was the Antonia fortress north of the temple area which went back to Maccabean times (see Josephus, War1.75; Antiquities15.403), and which Herod had converted into a palace, or Herod’s more elaborate palace on the western height of the city near the present Jaffa gate (see Josephus, War5.176–83). What matters in the narrative is not the precise location of the praetorium, but the simple fact that it is now a Roman, and thus a Gentile, residence. As we have seen, participation in the Passover festival required ritual purification (11:55), and to enter the residence—even the temporary residence—of a Gentile, even the governor, would have compromised ritual purity, particularly since it was now “early morning” of the day before they were to “eat the Passover.” The notice makes it clear that the Passover meal has not yet taken place, confirming what the reader already knows, that Jesus’ last meal with his disciples was not the Passover meal (see 13:1, “Now before the festival of the Passover”).
The scene is heavy with irony. Those bringing Jesus to Pilate are so scrupulous about the laws of purity that they will not even enter the praetorium, yet their scruples do not extend to murder. Their intent all along has been to kill Jesus (see 5:18; 7:1, 19; 8:37, 40), and now the opportunity has come. The irony was recognized already by Origen, who (in commenting on 11:55) wrote that those who “purified themselves” for the Passover did so for an act of worship that was “not a work of God’s feast, but a polluted work that they performed when they killed Jesus” at the Passover. They thought their Passover worship “offered service to God” (see Jn 16:2, which Origen also cited explicitly), but in fact it only made them “more polluted than they were before they purified themselves.”
29–30 Because they would not enter the praetorium, the Roman governor came out to meet them: “Therefore Pilate came outside to them, and said, ‘What charge do you bring against this man?’ ” (v. 29). While the phrase “this man” could imply that Jesus is with him, this is unlikely, for Jesus plays no role in the interchange, and later, when Pilate does bring him out (19:4–5), it is made explicit. Just as in Mark (15:1), Pilate himself is introduced abruptly, without being identified as governor (as in Mt 27:2 and Lk 3:1), perhaps because it was already widely known that, as the earliest creeds declared, Jesus was crucified “under Pontius Pilate” (see, for example, 1 Tim 6:13; Ignatius, To the Trallians9.1; To the Smyrnaeans1.2). Pilate’s first words to them, “What charge do you bring against this man?” echo Jesus’ parting words, “If I have spoken badly, testify to what is bad, but if well, why do you strike me?” (v. 23). They had no answer for Jesus, and they have no real answer for Pilate: “They answered and said to him, ‘If he were not doing what is bad, we would not have handed him over to you’ ” (v. 30). Still unwilling to “testify to what is bad” (v. 23), they nevertheless expect Pilate to take their word for it that Jesus is “doing what is bad,” that is, that he is an “evildoer” or criminal, in the sight of the Romans and the empire no less than in theirs. In sharp contrast to Luke (23:2), where they list three specific charges (“We found this man leading our nation astray, and hindering the paying of taxes to Caesar, and saying that he himself is Christ the king”), they refuse to say what Jesus has done wrong.
31 With no charges filed, Pilate refuses to consider the matter: “Then Pilate said to them, ‘You take him, and judge him according to your law’ ” (v. 31a). There is every evidence within the Gospel that they could have done so. A few verses later they will tell Pilate, “We have a law, and according to the law he ought to die, because he made himself Son of God” (19:7), and on that ground (5:18; 10:33) they have repeatedly tried to kill Jesus, culminating in two attempts at a stoning (8:59; 10:31). But if they are free to “take him and judge him according to your law,” and if stoning is still their intention, why have they brought Jesus to Pilate at all? Their answer is puzzling. Instead of confirming (as in 19:7) that their law condemns Jesus to death, they seem to imply the opposite: “The Jews said to him, ‘It is not lawful for us to kill anyone’ ” (v. 31b).
The words, “It is not lawful,” are commonly interpreted to mean that Roman law did not permit the Jews to impose the death penalty, so that consequently Jesus would die not by stoning but by crucifixion, a Roman and not Jewish method of execution (hence v. 32, citing Jesus’ pronouncements about being “lifted up,” as on a cross). Yet it is odd that the Jews would have to remind Pilate of what Roman law did or did not permit. It is just as odd that Pilate seems to have just given them permission to do what they are now saying was forbidden (“You take him,” v. 31a), and odder still that he will give them permission again, in the same three words, later on: “You take him, and crucify him” (19:6). Moreover, such expressions as “It is lawful” or “It is not lawful” are more often used of what is allowed or forbidden by the law of Moses than by Roman law. Viewed in this way, “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone” sounds more like a simple allusion to the Decalogue: “You shall not murder” (Exod 20:13; Deut 5:17, NIV, NRSV). To be sure, the vocabulary does not exactly match in Greek any more than in English. Yet “kill” is also not quite what we would expect in speaking of a formal execution, for which the more judicial verb “put to death” would have been more appropriate. What the vocabulary does match perfectly is what this Gospel has been saying of the Jewish authorities all along, that they were seeking “to kill” Jesus (5:18; 7:1, 19, 20, 25; 8:37, 40). This terminology extends even to the judicial decision of the council chaired by Caiaphas the Chief Priest “that they would kill” Jesus (11:53), and Lazarus as well (12:10).
The consistency of language was not lost on Origen, who once again savored the irony, citing first verse 31b (“It is not lawful for us to kill anyone”), and then in quick succession verses 35 and 40 and 19:7, 12, and 15 to demonstrate that in effect they did exactly what it was “not lawful” for them to do. Then he cites 16:2 (“The hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he offers service to God”) with the comment that this prophecy of Jesus was “fulfilled, beginning with himself.” Finally he repeats verbatim Jesus’ last charge against them, “But now you seek to kill me, a man who has spoken the truth to you, which I have heard from God” (8:40). The point is that now, in saying “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone,” the Jewish chief priests have condemned themselves, validating at last Jesus’ judgments on them long before at the Tent festival: “Has Moses not given you the law? And none of you does the law? Why are you seeking to kill me?” (7:19), and “If you are Abraham’s children, you would be doing the works of Abraham. But now you are seeking to kill me” (8:39–40a). It is indeed “not lawful … to kill anyone,” but they have plotted from the beginning to kill not just “anyone,” but even worse, “a man who has spoken to you the truth which I heard from God. This Abraham did not do” (8:40b). Their lawlessness is now condemned again, this time from their own lips.
This is all very well within the framework of the Gospel, and the Gospel writer’s intention, but what is going on in the minds of the Jews themselves? What are they thinking? They are saying it to Pilate after all, not just to the reader. What is he to conclude from their disclaimer, “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone”? As we have seen, it is not plausible to assume that they would be lecturing Pilate on the fine points of Roman law. Possibly they are tacitly acknowledging that they have not held a formal trial and consequently do not have a conviction. While the other Gospels seem to imply a trial of some sort before the Jewish Sanhedrin or ruling council (see Mt 26:55–66//Mk 14:55–64; Lk 22:66–71), it is true that in John’s Gospel itself there has been no formal trial and no conviction. Therefore if they were to execute Jesus without a formal conviction, it would be murder, or a lynching, in violation of the ancient command, “You shall not murder.” These points I argued some years ago. Yet it must be acknowledged that such rules did not stop the Jews from attempting to stone Jesus without a trial on two previous occasions (8:59 and 10:31).
Evidently something else is going on here. For some reason, it is important to the Jewish authorities that the Romans carry out the execution of Jesus. Quite possibly they may have feared that they did not have broad enough popular support, and that if they were to stone Jesus to death there would be repercussions among “the crowds,” who have all along been ambivalent about Jesus (see 7:49, “this crowd that does not know the law”; also 12:19, “Look, the world has gone after him!”; also Mt 26:5, “Not during the festival, so as not to cause an uproar among ‘the people’ ”). The stated fear of the chief priests was that if Jesus were allowed to continue to perform signs, “they will all believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation” (11:48), and Caiaphas had proposed that the wrath of Rome be visited on one man so that the whole nation might be spared (11:50). To this end, it was not enough that Jesus be arrested, tried, and put to death by the Jewish authorities. That would gain them no particular favor with the Romans, and might cause them to lose favor with the people. It would be far better if the Roman governor himself came to perceive Jesus as a threat, and if possible be persuaded to carry out the execution on his authority, in the process giving them due credit for their loyalty to Rome. Jesus has implied that they are liars (see 8:44, 55), and their claim that “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone” is, if not an outright lie, at least an attempt to deceive Pilate by leading him to believe that their law prevents them from putting Jesus to death. Pilate, with only a cursory knowledge of Jewish teaching, might well have known that there was something in their law about not committing murder, and been willing to take them at their word.
32 In any event, the Gospel writer’s comment that this exchange took place “so that the word of Jesus that he said signifying by what death he was going to die might be fulfilled” (v. 32) sounds a bit premature. Its point is that since the Jews will not execute Jesus, he will die not by stoning (as he would have in 8:59 and 10:31) but by crucifixion, the Roman method of execution. That is, he will be “lifted up” on a cross just as he said he would (3:14; 12:32, 34; see also 8:28). This is by no means a foregone conclusion. Pilate has not yet agreed to crucify Jesus. Three times he will tell them, “I find in him no probable cause” (v. 38; 19:4, 6), before he finally yields to their demands (19:16). Yet the writer’s comment signals already what is coming: Pilate will capitulate. Jesus will be crucified. His word “signifying by what death he was going to die” will be fulfilled. Here for a second time (as in v. 9) the formula “that it might be fulfilled” occurs with a saying of Jesus rather than a citation of Scripture. In contrast to verse 9 the actual saying of Jesus (this time about being “lifted up,” 3:14; 12:32) is not quoted or paraphrased. Instead the writer simply identifies it as the pronouncement by which Jesus “signified” the manner of his death (see 12:33). Yet the earlier citation, “I have lost none of those whom you have given me” (v. 9) did have the same premature-sounding quality seen here, for at the moment of Jesus’ arrest it was by no means a foregone conclusion that the lives of his disciples would be spared. The “fulfillment” of what he had said before was at the same time a prophecy of what was to come, and the same is true here. Jesus’ fate is sealed, his destiny assured, for “just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of man must be lifted up” (3:14, italics added).
33 The scene changes, as “Pilate went in again into the praetorium and summoned Jesus and said to him, ‘You are the King of the Jews?’ ” (v. 33). That he “summoned” Jesus after reentering the praetorium confirms that Jesus was still inside, presumably under guard. Pilate’s question, “You are the King of the Jews?” is exactly the same question, word for word, that he asks in all four Gospels (compare Mt 27:11//Mk 15:2//Lk 23:3), leaving us to wonder where the title came from, and where Pilate got the idea that this was what Jesus might be claiming. The answer (to the second question at least) is found only in Luke, where the Jewish authorities who bring Jesus to Pilate level certain explicit charges, the last of which is that of claiming to be “Christ, a king,” or, perhaps, “an anointed king” (as in Lk 23:2b). In Matthew and Mark, Pilate’s question is not fully explained, for we are told merely that they “handed him over” to Pilate (Mt 27:2//Mk 15:1). No charges are mentioned. Here in John’s Gospel it is even more puzzling in that Pilate has asked them, “What charge do you bring against this man?” (v. 29), and they have refused (v. 30). How then does Pilate know that the charge is that of claiming to be “King of the Jews”? It is as if Luke 23:2 is needed in order to make sense of the Gospel of John (not to mention Matthew and Mark!).
While the phrase “the King of the Jews” makes an abrupt first appearance here, the reader of John’s Gospel has known almost from the beginning that Jesus is indeed both “the Son of God” and “the King of Israel” (1:49). And even though he himself thwarted those who tried “to seize him to make him king” (6:15), the crowds welcomed him publicly into Jerusalem as “the One coming in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel” (12:13), in the face of which the Pharisees lamented, “Look, the world has gone after him!” (12:19). This may have been enough to prompt Pilate’s question, “You are the King of the Jews?” Pilate’s terminology as a Gentile, and as governor of Judea only, would have been “the Jews” and not “Israel,” but he might well have known of the public clamor (even without an enumeration of the charges mentioned in Luke), and framed the question for himself.
34 The whole of verses 34–37 appears to be an expansion of the cryptic “You say so,” which is what we find in the other three Gospels (Mt 27:11//Mk 15:2//Lk 23:3), followed by resolute silence (see Mt 27:12//Mk 15:4–5; compare Lk 23:9). Here in John’s Gospel, by contrast, he speaks freely, turning the words, “You say so,” into a question, “Are you saying this on your own, or did others tell you about me?”—the same question, in fact, that is in the mind of the reader. That is, where does the phrase “King of the Jews” come from? Have “the Jews” themselves made some charge to that effect (as they do explicitly in Lk 23:2), or is Pilate’s question strictly his own?
35 Pilate’s reply is unambiguous: “Am I a Jew? Your nation and the chief priests handed you over to me. What have you done?” (v. 35). The question “Am I a Jew?” is rhetorical, emphatically dissociating Pilate from “the Jews,” just as emphatically as when he told the chief priests a moment before, “You take him, and judge him according to your law” (v. 31). In the same breath he dissociates himself from Jesus, identifying Jesus’ accusers as “Your nation.” There is ironic truth in this, for as Caiaphas prophesied, the “nation” is Jesus’ own nation, destined to be redeemed by his death (see 11:51). Pilate views Jesus and “the Jews” in much the same way. He wants nothing to do with either, and he asks Jesus the same question he asked them. Of them he had asked, “What charge do you bring against this man?” (v. 29), and of Jesus, “What have you done?” that is, “What are they charging you with?” But as he has already revealed (v. 33), kingship is on his mind.
36 Jesus knows this, and responds accordingly: “My kingship is not from this world. If my kingship were from this world, my officers would fight so that I would not be handed over to the Jews. But now my kingship is not from here” (v. 36). He tacitly acknowledges that he is a king, just as Nathanael and the crowds in Jerusalem confessed him to be, but he is careful to explain what kind of king he is not, leaving the reader to infer the kind of king he is. In contrast to 3:3 and 5, it is not a question of a “kingdom,” a realm that human beings can “see” (3:3) and “enter” (3:5), but rather “kingship,” something belonging to Jesus alone, his royal authority as Son of God (see 1:49, “Son of God” and “King of Israel”).
It is important here to avoid a common misunderstanding. That Jesus’ kingship is not “from this world” does not mean that it is merely “spiritual” in the sense of being inward or subjective. It is not simply Christ reigning in the hearts of individuals. The phrase does not so much define the nature of Jesus’ kingship as locate its origin. It is not “from” this present world, just as Jesus himself is not “from this world” (8:23b). Rather, he is “from above” (8:23a), or “from heaven” (3:13; 6:33, 41, 50, 51, 58), and he now wants the reader to know that the same is true of his “kingship.” He says it twice: “My kingship is not from this world,” and “But now my kingship is not from here.” In the same way that “not from this world” implies “from heaven,” or “from above,” the notice that Jesus’ kingship is not “from here” implies that it is “from above” (3:31). In short, it comes not from Jerusalem or Rome, but from heaven, from the very presence of God, and therefore belongs to God. Divine origin implies divine ownership. “Not from this world” implies no allegiance to this world, but allegiance only to God. Jesus’ kingship is not merely “spiritual” but eschatological, rather like the Holy City in Revelation, always coming down “out of heaven from God” (Rev 3:12; 21:2, 10). It is nothing less than Jesus’ all-encompassing “authority over all flesh” (17:2; also Mt 28:18), and in the end it will supersede all human authority. Pilate in the end will pronounce it politically harmless (see v. 38b), but it is more dangerous than he imagines.
The two assertions that Jesus’ kingship, or royal authority, is not “from this world” (or “from here”) frame a contrary-to-fact condition. The second one, “But now my kingdom is not from here,” brings matters back to reality, but the conditional clause itself addresses the question, “What if Jesus’ kingship were from this world? What difference would it make?” The difference, he says, is that “my officers would fight so that I would not be handed over to the Jews.” To begin with, he would have “officers” under him, like the “officers” of the chief priests who came to arrest him (18:3, 12, 18, 22; also 7:32, 45), not just “disciples.” These “officers” would fight back, and he would not have been taken. Admittedly, the logic is not airtight. First, one of Jesus’ disciples, evidently fancying himself an “officer,” had in fact drawn a sword and cut off Malchus’s ear (v. 10). Second, even a king whose kingship was “not from this world” might (according to a different tradition) have called on “twelve legions of angels” for reinforcements (see Mt 26:53). But the first was irrelevant because Jesus renounced Peter’s misguided attempt to help (v. 11), and was in fact arrested despite the token resistance. The second scenario—even if known to the writer of John’s Gospel—would have made no sense at all to a Roman governor. The contrary-to-fact condition is ambiguous as far as tense is concerned. It could be translated either “my officers would fight so that I would not be handed over to the Jews” (as we have done), or “my officers would have fought so that I would not be handed over to the Jews” (italics added). We might have expected “so that I would not be handed over to you,” for Pilate has just said, “Your nation and the chief priests handed you over to me” (v. 35). The present tense, “my officers would fight,” is marginally more appropriate because the reference to being “handed over to the Jews” anticipates not the present moment but rather the end of the whole sequence of events when, as we will learn, Pilate finally “handed him over to them [that is, to “the Jews”] to be crucified” (19:16, italics added). Already here, Jesus drops a hint that he will die at the hands of “the Jews” after all.
37 The subtlety of the contrary-to-fact condition is wasted on Pilate, who seems to have heard only the phrase, “My kingship,” implying that Jesus is a king of some sort. Pilate, therefore, “said to him, ‘So, you are a king!’ ” (v. 37a). Jesus replies, “You say that I am a king. I was born for this, and for this I came into the world, that I might testify to the truth. Everyone who is from the truth hears my voice” (v. 37b).
With this, the “Johannine” expansion of the simple “You say so” in all three synoptic Gospels (Mt 27:11//Mk 15:2//Lk 23:3) is complete. Jesus does not deny his kingship, for it is evident in this Gospel no less than in the others (1:49, 12:13), but he prefers to speak of something else—his calling to “testify to the truth,” just as John had done before him (5:33). “For this,” he tells Pilate, “I was born, and for this I have come into the world.” The solemn repetition of “for this” makes this the simplest and most emphatic statement of Jesus’ mission to be found anywhere in the Gospel. Throughout his public ministry, he has spoken “the truth which I heard from God” (see 8:40, 45). Even those who mistakenly wanted to “come and seize him to make him king” (6:15) did so because they believed he was “truly the Prophet who is coming into the world” (6:14). His role as king cannot be separated from his role as the revealer of God, for his authority to “testify to the truth” rests on his kingship, the royal authority the Father has given him over “all flesh” (17:2) to make known “the truth”—that is, “the only true God,” and himself as God’s messenger (17:3).
His final words to Pilate here add a cautionary note, “Everyone who is from the truth hears my voice.” The implication is that those who are not “from the truth,” that is, do not belong to the truth or stand on the side of truth, do not hear Jesus’ voice. In effect he is asking Pilate, “Do you belong to the truth? Are you hearing my voice?” Earlier, after telling “the Jews who had believed him” at the Tent festival, “If you dwell on my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (8:31–32), he found that this did not happen, and he had to say to them in the end, “Whoever is from God hears the words of God. This is why you do not hear, because you are not from God” (8:47). Again at the Rededication he told them: “But as for you, you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep [literally, “you are not from my sheep”]. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (10:26–27). That was his verdict on the Jewish authorities: they were not “from God” in that they did not belong to God; they were not “from” his sheep in that they were not numbered among his sheep; by implication, they were not “from the truth,” for they refused to believe the One who told them the truth (8:45–46) and repeatedly tried to kill him.
38a Pilate is no better. Jesus does not state the negative, but Pilate states it for him: “What is truth?” (v. 38). The question poses no challenge to the reader. We are not intended to ponder these “profound” words, or say to ourselves, “Good question. What is truth, anyway?” On the contrary, it tells us that Pilate has no clue what truth is, consequently that he is not “from the truth” (v. 37) any more than the Jewish leaders were, and has by no means “heard Jesus’ voice.” Readers of the Gospel, by contrast, know what “the truth” is, for Jesus has acknowledged to the Father, “Your word is the truth” (17:17), and has even told the disciples, “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life” (14:6). Pilate’s question, moreover, is dismissive. He does not want an answer, only an end to the conversation, and as far as the reader is concerned, the answer has already been given.
With this, Jesus’ brief encounter with the Gentile world in the person of one Roman governor is over, and the result is the same as that of his far longer series of encounters with the Jewish people and their leaders. If it is true that “He came to what was his own, and his own [that is, the Jews] did not receive him” (1:11), it is just as true that “He was in the world, … and the world [that is, the whole world—Jew and Gentile alike] did not know him” (1:10). But who was privy to this brief encounter? In contrast to Peter’s denials—and possibly Jesus’ interrogation by the Chief Priest—this appears to have been a very private conversation between Jesus and Pilate, with no anonymous disciple “known to the Chief Priest” (v. 15) to pass along what might have been said. On what basis was the Gospel writer able to expand the cryptic, “You say so,” of earlier traditions (Mk 15:1 and par.), not to mention the conspicuous silence that followed (Mk 15:5 and parallel), into the significant dialogue that we find in this Gospel? It is an intriguing question for which there is no sure answer. The account looks like the Gospel writer’s own composition. Possibly the writer claimed as his source another who, like Jesus, would “testify to the truth”—that is, the Advocate or “Spirit of truth,” who, Jesus promised, would “testify about me” (15:26; see also 14:26). Who better to play the role—or give the Gospel writer the right to play the role—of omniscient narrator?
38b–39 Nothing Jesus has said about his kingship has convinced Pilate to regard him as a criminal or in any way a threat to the empire. Once more the scene changes: “And having said this, he went out again to the Jews, and he says to them, ‘I find in him no probable cause’ ” (v. 38b). The verse division is such that the change of scene comes in the middle of a verse, confirming the impression that Pilate expected no answer to the question, “What is truth?” (v. 38a). As quickly as he “said this,” he went back outside the praetorium to speak to the Jewish priests, resuming the conversation that had broken off when they said, “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone” (v. 31b). His declaration, “I find in him no probable cause,” is emphatic, as if to say, “I find none, but perhaps you might.” This would amount simply to a reiteration of his earlier words, “You take him, and judge him according to your law” (v. 31a). Pilate and “the Jews” were at a stalemate, and he now looks for a way out by appealing to a “custom you have that I release to you one at the Passover,” and asking, “So shall I release to you the King of the Jews?” (v. 39). The repetition of “you” is conspicuous, suggesting that in “releasing” Jesus he would not be granting him unconditional freedom (certainly not guaranteeing him any sort of protection), but simply returning him to the jurisdiction of the Jewish leaders. As far as Pilate is concerned, they could still “take him, and judge him” according to Jewish law (v. 31a), or even, if they wished, “take him, and crucify him” (19:6).
This is rather different from what appears to be the case in the other three Gospels, where Pilate had made no previous attempt to return Jesus to the jurisdiction of the Jewish authorities. There Pilate proposed to “release” Jesus (see Mk 15:9//Mt 27:17; Lk 23:16), not to them for judgment but to the crowds—and presumably to freedom. The crowds, under pressure from the chief priests (so Mt 27:20//Mk 15:11), cried out for Barabbas to be released instead. Here, by contrast, “the Jews” have a second opportunity (as in v. 31) to do with Jesus what they will, as Pilate asks them, “So shall I release to you the King of the Jews?” For the first time, he throws in their face the title “the King of the Jews,” and it does not make them happy.
40 While Pilate’s proposal to “release” may have a slightly different meaning in John’s Gospel than in the other three, the response is just the same: “Then they cried out again, saying, ‘Not this one but Barabbas’ [compare Mt 27:21; Mk 15:11; Lk 23:18]. And Barabbas was a terrorist” (v. 40). “Again” sounds odd because they have not “cried out” before, but the probable meaning is that they shouted “back,” in response to what he had just said. They are in no mood to negotiate. “Barabbas” is introduced very abruptly, more so than in the other three Gospels (all of which mention and name him), and he is identified in just one word, as a “terrorist,” a term quite compatible with the more detailed information given in Mark (15:7), Matthew (27:16), and Luke (23:19). John’s Gospel shows less interest in Barabbas than the other Gospels, and unlike the others (see Mt 27:26; Mk 15:15; Lk 23:25), never states explicitly that he was in fact ever released. The characteristically Johannine narrative aside, “And Barabbas was a terrorist,” calls attention to the same irony that is so evident in the other Gospels (not to mention Acts 3:14), but here it is merely one small irony among many. More important, perhaps, Pilate’s offer to turn Jesus back to the Jewish authorities is once again refused. “The Jews” are relentless in their determination that Rome and not Jerusalem will put Jesus to death.
*********************** CHAPTER 19 ***********************19:1 While we are not told explicitly that Pilate “went back inside” (as in 18:33), this is implied by the notice that “then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged” (19:1). In Matthew and in Mark, this happens just as Pilate “handed him over to be crucified” (Mt 27:26//Mk 15:15). In Luke, by contrast, it is not actually carried out. Rather, as a strategy or conciliatory gesture, Pilate twice offers to “have him flogged and release him” (Lk 23:16, 22), but the strategy proves futile. Here in John’s Gospel, it is evident that Pilate has not yet given in. He still has no intention of bending to the wishes of the chief priests (see vv. 4, 6, 12). Yet it is doubtful that he does this simply to conciliate “the Jews,” for his action is closely linked to what immediately follows (vv. 2–3), an elaborate mockery of “the Jews.”
2–3 That the “flogging” was carried out by Pilate’s soldiers is confirmed by the accompanying notice, “And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head and wrapped a purple robe around him, and they kept coming at him and saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews,’ and giving him slaps in the face” (vv. 2–3). In Matthew and Mark, this takes place only after Jesus has been handed over to be crucified, and in the presence of “the whole cohort” (Mt 27:27//Mk 15:16), six hundred troops in all. The “horseplay” described here is more private, and reminiscent of what was recorded a chapter earlier in the other Gospels, in connection with the trial before Caiaphas and the Jewish council—but with one important exception. There Jesus was mocked by Jews for his reputation as a prophet (Mt 26:68; Mk 14:65; Lk 22:64). Here the mockery is the work of the Romans, aimed as much at “the Jews” themselves as at Jesus. The soldiers—apparently at Pilate’s instigation—are acting out the governor’s obsession with the title “King of the Jews” (see 18:33, 39). The idea of this pitiful subject people having their own “king” is an absurdity to Pilate, and he allows his soldiers the sport of dressing up this pitiful, beaten figure as a ridiculous “King of the Jews.” The “purple robe” proclaims his kingship, while the “crown of thorns,” the flogging, and the slaps in the face expose him as a “king” thoroughly humiliated and powerless, a fitting potentate for a despised and subjugated people.
4–5 The elaborate mockery of Jesus by Pilate and the Roman soldiers is not simply a matter of private amusement, but turns out to be for the benefit of the Jewish leaders as well: “And Pilate again went outside, and says to them, ‘Look, I am leading him outside to you, so that you might know that I find in him no probable cause’ ” (v. 4). For the second time, he pronounces his verdict: “no probable cause” (as in 18:38), at least as far as the death penalty is concerned. “Look, I am leading him outside” probably means that Pilate has ordered his soldiers to bring Jesus out, not that he went back in and escorted Jesus out personally. Immediately, “Jesus came outside, wearing the thorny crown and the purple robe. And he said to them, ‘Look, the man!’ ” (v. 5). Given the way Jesus is clothed, we might have expected, “Look, your king!” (as in v. 14). Pilate is not ready to say that, and when he does say it he will make it far more of a production, formally installing Jesus (albeit ironically) as “the King of the Jews” (see v. 13). “Look” (idou) does not have the same performative quality that “Look” (ide) has, at least in some places (as, for example, in v. 14). Pilate is not, by his words, appointing Jesus to be “the man,” but simply calling attention to him so that “the Jews” can draw their own conclusions about him. “Look, the man!” recalls the repeated references to Jesus as “this man” throughout the Gospel, usually by the Jewish authorities, and often with disdainful connotations (see 5:12; 9:16, 24; 11:47; 18:17, 29). It is as if Pilate is now saying to them, “Look, here is ‘the man’ you were looking for, and arrested and brought to me. Now what are you going to do with him?”
To the reader, the pronouncement evokes something quite different, Jesus’ characteristic self-identification as “the Son of man.” As we have seen, he himself has used “Son of man” conspicuously in connection with his impending death, whether by being “glorified” (12:23; 13:31) or “lifted up” (3:14, 8:28; 12:34), and now the moment of death is drawing near. But the title “the Son of man” (literally, “the son of the man”) would make no sense to a Roman Gentile. “The man” is about as close to the idiomatic Jewish expression “the Son of man” as Pontius Pilate could be expected to come. It is commonly agreed, in fact, that “a man,” or “the man,” is precisely what “the Son of man” means when translated back into Hebrew or Aramaic. To the reader, therefore, Pilate—like Caiaphas before him (11:51–52)—is speaking more wisely than he knows, designating Jesus in much the same way Jesus designated himself, as “the Son of man,” in Caiaphas’s words the “one man” destined to “die for the people” (11:50).
So much for christological hints and allusions. The more immediate question is, What response does Pilate expect from the Jewish leaders by showing them “the man,” crowned with thorns, beaten, and wearing a purple robe? According to Raymond Brown, all this is “arranged by Pilate as a ploy to win the sympathy of ‘the Jews’ for a Jesus thus pitiably disfigured.” This is perhaps consistent with the fact that “Look, the man!” is framed by Pilate’s second and third announcements that “I find in him no probable clause” (vv. 4, 6), but it is hardly consistent with the cruel mockery that has just gone on inside the praetorium. Pilate is not trying to elicit compassion from the Jewish leaders, but only to dramatize his impression that Jesus is a pathetic and therefore harmless figure as far as the Roman government is concerned. The sight of him is calculated to evoke not so much pity as ridicule, and they can hardly be unaware that the ridicule is aimed as much at them as at Jesus. Ordinarily the kind of treatment to which Jesus has been subjected is preliminary to execution, and the presentation of “the man” to the Jewish chief priests appears to be yet another invitation to them (as in 18:31) to “take him, and judge him according to your law.” Once more Pilate is offering to “release to you the King of the Jews” (18:39), that they might finish the job he has started for them and put the wretched prisoner to death. In short, the battle of wills goes on. Jesus must die, but at whose hands, the Romans or the Jews?
6 It appears that the Jewish “chief priests and officers” themselves view the flogging and mockery as preliminary to execution, for at the sight of “the man” they “cried out, saying, ‘Crucify, crucify!’ ” Then “Pilate said to them, ‘You take him, and crucify, for I find in him no probable cause’ ” (v. 6). The scene is a virtual reenactment of 18:30–31, when they first brought Jesus to Pilate without naming a specific charge, and he told them, “You take him, and judge him according to your law” (18:31). This time he is more explicit: “You take him, and crucify,” that is, “you” rather than “I.” The conventional wisdom among modern commentators is that “Pilate is not serious,” but is simply “refusing to have anything to do with crucifying Jesus by telling them to do what both parties knew was impossible.” But at this point conventional wisdom is sorely tested, for Pilate’s reply here (as in 18:31) implies just the opposite, that “the Jews” were perfectly free to put Jesus to death if they so chose. They had, after all, attempted to do just that, not once but twice (8:59; 10:31). On the other hand, Pilate probably does know that if “the Jews” were to put Jesus to death, it would not be by crucifixion. He simply wants to throw their own words (“Crucify, crucify!”) back in their faces. All he is saying is, “You take him. I don’t care what you do with him! As for me, I find in him no probable cause” (this now for the third time).
7 The Jewish chief priests respond to Pilate’s emphatic pronouns with an emphatic pronoun of their own: “We have a law, and according to the law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God” (v. 7). That is, “Even if your law does not condemn him, ours does.” And with this they reveal their real reason for wanting Jesus dead—not that he made himself “King of the Jews,” posing a threat to the Romans (as in Lk 23:2, for example), but that he “made himself the Son of God.” This, of course, has been their charge against Jesus ever since that unnamed festival when they began by asking, “Who is the man?” (5:12), and ended by “seeking all the more to kill him, because he was … claiming God as his own Father, making himself equal to God” (5:18), and later at the Rededication when they tried to stone Jesus to death for “blasphemy, and because you, being a man, are making yourself God” (10:33, italics added). Here again, Pilate’s “Look, the man!” (v. 5) prompts them to forget their strategy with the governor, and recall again what this “man” has been “making himself” to be—nothing less than the Son of God! On the face of it, the notion that “according to the law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God” contradicts their earlier excuse that “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone” (18:31b). Once again the Gospel writer wants to expose their hypocrisy. They have told Pilate on the one hand that their law forbids the taking of life, and on the other that their law requires it in cases of blasphemy. Why then do they not act on what their law requires? They have attempted to do so before (8:59 and 10:31), but now, whether because they do not have a formal conviction, or (more likely) because they lack support among the people, they are determined that Pilate will do it for them, even though he does not perceive Jesus as a political threat. In the heat of the moment they have inadvertently revealed their true reason for wanting Jesus dead, not that he claimed to be king, or posed a threat to the Romans or to the social order, but (just as before) that “he made himself the Son of God.”
8–9 The effect on Pilate is unexpected, as the scene changes again: “Then, when Pilate heard this word, he was all the more afraid, and he went into the praetorium again, and he says to Jesus, ‘Where are you from?’ But Jesus gave him no answer” (vv. 8–9). “All the more” (v. 8) sounds strange because Pilate has shown no sign of fear thus far. For this reason, some have proposed that the meaning is simply that he became “very afraid.” More likely, “all the more” is used precisely because fear has not been mentioned before. That is, it is used to mean “rather,” introducing an alternative. The point is that Pilate’s demeanor was not what it had been before; rather, he became fearful. Still the question remains, What was Pilate afraid of? His fear is said to be triggered by “this word” (v. 8), apparently the chief priests’ claim that Jesus “made himself the Son of God” (v. 7). He promptly breaks off the conversation and goes back again into the praetorium, evidently taking Jesus with him. The questioning that had broken off with Pilate’s dismissive “What is truth?” (18:38) now resumes. “Where are you from?” (v. 9), he asks Jesus, a question that could be simply routine, but more likely arises out of Pilate’s fear. If Jesus “made himself the Son of God,” what sort of being is he claiming to be? For the first time, Pilate seems to sense that he may be dealing with more than he bargained for. Has he scourged a god of some sort?
The question of where Jesus is from is not a new one. The Jerusalemites at the Tent festival thought they knew (7:27), and Jesus agreed that, at least in a geographical sense, they did know, but quickly added, “I have not come on my own, but the One who sent me is true, whom you do not know” (7:28; see also 8:14, “I know where I came from and where I am going. But you do not know where I come from or where I am going”). Later, after the healing of the man born blind, they admitted that “as for this man, we don’t know where he is from” (9:29), just as the wedding guests did not know where the good wine was from (2:9), and the Samaritan woman did not know where the living water came from (4:11; see also 3:8). Yet no one up to now has asked him in so many words, “Where are you from?” It is the perfect opportunity for Jesus to say something like “You are from below, I am from above. You are from this world, I am not from this world” (8:23), or words to that effect. Instead he says nothing at all, confirming the tradition found in other Gospels that at some point Jesus was silent in the presence of Pontius Pilate, in the face of charges leveled by the Jewish chief priests (see Mt 27:12–14//Mk 15:3–5). But here, by contrast, only Pilate is present, and the reader knows why Jesus is silent. He already answered Pilate’s question when he said, “My kingship is not from this world,” and “my kingship is not from here” (18:36). If it is “not from this world,” it is, as we have seen, “from heaven,” and if it is not “from here,” it is “from above.” And if Jesus’ kingship is “from heaven” or “from above,” he himself is from there as well (as John told us, 3:31). Jesus does not answer because he has already done so—if Pilate would only listen.
10 In contrast to Matthew and Mark, where Jesus is unresponsive to the accusations of the Jewish priests, Pilate knows that the silence is directed at him, and him alone. “Are you not speaking to me?” he persists. “To me” is placed first in the sentence for emphasis (literally, “To me are you not speaking?”). And “Do you not know,” he adds “that I have authority to release you, and I have authority to crucify you?” (v. 10). The sentence bears a striking resemblance to Jesus’ claim nine chapters earlier that “I lay down my life, that I might receive it back again.… I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to receive it back” (10:17–18). The redundant repetition of “I have authority” in both passages links them unmistakably together, as if on a collision course. Where does the “authority” to settle Jesus’ fate lie? With Jesus himself, as he has repeatedly claimed, or with the Roman governor? Without question, Pilate does have the legal right to have Jesus crucified, but as to his first claim, that “I have authority to release you,” it is conspicuously evident that he has so far been unable to do so. Even from the standpoint of raw political power, his claim is on shaky ground.
11 Jesus could have responded by throwing in Pilate’s face the earlier pronouncement, which Pilate of course has not heard: “No, you are wrong. I have authority to lay down my life, and I have authority to receive it back” (see 10:17–18). But he does not. Instead, avoiding the collision course, “Jesus answered him, ‘You would have no authority against me at all if it were not given to you from above. For this reason the one who handed me over to you has greater sin’ ” (v. 11). It is a very gentle response, for it applies to Pilate the same principle that applied to John, to Jesus himself, or indeed to anyone: “A person cannot receive anything unless it is given him from heaven” (3:27). It is a response intended more for the reader of the Gospel than for Pilate, who would not have understood it. To him, “from above” would likely have meant from higher up in the imperial chain of command, ultimately from the emperor himself. But the reader is expected to understand that “from above” means “from heaven,” the place where Jesus himself is from (see 3:31). Jesus had said, “I have authority to lay down my life, and I have authority to receive it back,” yet he was quick to add, “This command I received from my Father” (10:18b). Even Jesus’ “authority” over his own life and death is not self-contained, but is contingent on his Father’s “command.” The same is true many times over of Pilate’s self-proclaimed “authority” in the political and legal sphere, for Pilate is but an unknowing instrument in God’s hands, while Jesus is, as he claimed, the very “Son of God,” the Father’s obedient messenger “from above.”
The more difficult pronouncement is the corollary, “For this reason the one who handed me over to you has greater sin.” Superficially, the pronouncement recalls the scene in Matthew where Pilate washes his hands and declares himself innocent of Jesus’ blood, and “all the people” reply, “His blood is on us and on our children” (Mt 27:24–25). But here “the one who handed over” Jesus is singular, obviously not “all the people.” Most immediately, the Jewish chief priests handed him over (see 18:30, 35), but the singular calls attention to Caiaphas in particular (see 18:28, “from Caiaphas”). Here again Pilate’s understanding and that of the reader part company. Pilate could only have understood the reference to be to Caiaphas, for Caiaphas had in fact done the “handing over.” Yet the words, “You would have no authority against me at all if it were not given to you from above,” could just as easily have been said to Caiaphas as to Pilate. As “Chief Priest of that year,” and as someone able to “prophesy” (11:51), Caiaphas surely stood as much (or more) under the sovereignty of God as Pilate. Therefore, the reader will inevitably think of Judas as “the one who handed over” Jesus to the authorities, Jewish and then Roman, thus betraying him death. This is in keeping with the way Judas has been designated quite consistently in the Gospel (see 6:64, 71; 12:4; 13:2, 11, 21). And yet even Judas’s act of betrayal was “so that the Scripture might be fulfilled” (13:18; 17:12), implying that it too was in some way decreed or given “from above.”
Quite possibly the reader is meant to go even a step further back, remembering that before the last meal and the footwashing, “the devil … put it into the heart so that Judas Iscariot of Simon might hand him over” (13:2). While Judas himself is called “the devil” for doing the devil’s work (6:70), and the Jewish leaders have been told, “You are from the father [who is] the devil, and you choose to do the desires of your father” (8:44), the one with “greater sin” is perhaps best identified as the original devil of the Genesis story, “homicidal from the beginning,” both “the liar and the father of it” (8:44). As we have seen, while Jesus never explicitly forgives sin in this Gospel, he does retain or convict of sin repeatedly (see 8:21, 24; 9:41; 15:22, 24), and now he does so again. “Greater sin” implies that Pilate too is guilty of sin (and Caiaphas and Judas all the more), but he places the ultimate guilt right where it belongs (see 1 Jn 3:8, “the devil sins from the beginning; for this the Son of God is revealed, that he might destroy the works of the devil”). At this point, the stark dualism of the Gospel is evident, for Jesus is unwilling to say of the devil what he says of Pilate, that is, that anything about him is “from above” (see 14:30, “in me he has nothing”).
12 The conversation is over. We may assume that at this point Pilate went out again (alone) to address the Jewish chief priests, for we are told, “From this time, Pilate kept seeking to release him, but the Jews cried out, saying, ‘If you release this one, you are not a friend of Caesar. Everyone who makes himself king opposes Caesar’ ” (v. 12). “From this” could mean either “From this moment on,” or “As a result of this,” but in this case (as in 6:66) it is clearly the latter. Pilate has, after all, been trying to have Jesus released ever since he first questioned him (see 18:38, 39; 19:4, 6). The tense of the verb (“was seeking,” or “kept seeking”) suggests that he simply continued what he was trying to do all along, either by saying yet again, “I find in him no probable cause,” or in other ways. But what is it that happened “as a result of this”? Not that he tried to have Jesus released, for he had done that already. Rather, that “the Jews” responded in the way they did, going over Pilate’s head as it were to invoke the power of the emperor: “If you release this one, you are not a friend of Caesar.” Unfortunately for Pilate, the words of Jesus, “You would have no authority against me at all if it were not given to you from above” (v. 11) are still ringing in his ears, words which, as we have seen, he would have heard as a reference to Caesar and the Roman imperial authority. The Jewish priests, abruptly changing their tactics, are now invoking that very authority “from above” as a veiled threat against him. Surely a coincidence, it seems, for “the Jews” were not privy to the conversation between Pilate and Jesus (vv. 8–11). And yet, we are told, their appeal to the higher authority arises “from this,” or “as a result of this.” Where is the connection? Possibly in the redemptive plan of God, although the Gospel writer does not press the point. But whether that is the case or not, the connection in Pilate’s mind is very real. That is, the threat that if he releases Jesus, he will lose favor with the emperor (v. 12) serves to reinforce his misunderstanding of Jesus’ warning that the only authority he has is “from above” (v. 11). Its inevitable effect will be to heighten his fears (see v. 8), and bring him finally to the point of handing Jesus over to death (see v. 16).
Yet why should the release of one fugitive cause Pilate to lose favor with the emperor? The Jewish priests explain themselves further, shifting their ground once more: “Everyone who makes himself king opposes Caesar” (v. 12b). Previously, the charge had been that Jesus “made himself the Son of God” (v. 7), a religious charge which, as we have seen, was their real reason for wanting to kill Jesus (see 5:18; 10:33). Now they have changed it back to the political charge that was implied in bringing Jesus to Pilate in the first place (see 18:30; also Lk 23:2), the charge that Jesus “makes himself king.” This means that he “opposes Caesar,” and by implication that Pilate himself is “opposing Caesar” in refusing to prosecute such a person. The identification of “Son of God” and “King” is something the reader understands, for Nathanael paired the two titles right from the start (1:49), and the reader knows full well that Jesus is both “Son of God” and “King of Israel” (see also 10:36; 12:13). What is not true is that he has “made himself” either of those things. He is, on the contrary, One “whom the Father consecrated and sent into the world” (10:36), and “the One coming in the name of the Lord” (12:13), who speaks and acts not “on his own” (aph’ heautou; see, for example, 5:18; 7:18), but always at the Father’s command. The accusation by the chief priests that he “makes himself king” simply ignores Pilate’s thrice-repeated verdict that “I find in him no probable cause” (18:38; 19:4, 6), made on the basis of a conversation with Jesus specifically about kingship (18:33–37). There is nothing new here, but circumstances have changed. Pilate now fears for his political future, and he takes immediate action.
13–14 Pilate’s action here is triggered (just as in v. 8) by a pronouncement of “the Jews.” In verse 8 they spoke of Jesus “making himself the Son of God,” and “when Pilate heard this word” he was afraid and went in to speak with Jesus. Here they have just spoken of Jesus “making himself king,” and “Pilate, when he heard these words, led Jesus outside and sat down on the judge’s bench at a place called Stone Pavement, and in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the preparation of the Passover; it was about the sixth hour. And he says to the Jews, ‘Look, your king!’ ” (vv. 13–14). That he “led Jesus outside” probably does not mean that he went back into the praetorium but (as in v. 4) that he ordered guards to bring Jesus out. He then “sat down on the judge’s bench” as if to issue a definitive verdict, just as he did (according to Josephus) when he was challenged by the Jews over the issue of bringing effigies of Caesar into Jerusalem. Some have argued that the verb is transitive (as it sometimes can be), so as to yield the translation, “Pilate seated [Jesus] on the judge’s bench.” This is in fact the case in certain second-century traditions in which Jesus is seated and mockingly commanded, “Judge us” (Justin, First Apology35), or “Judge righteously, O King of Israel” (Gospel of Peter3.7). But this is no mocking scene. The mockery is over (see vv. 2–5), and (as Brown notices) Jesus is no longer said to be wearing the purple robe and the crown of thorns. It is a solemn and decisive moment, and the Gospel writer underscores the solemnity by taking careful notice of the exact place and time. Pilate takes his seat in order to announce his decision “at a place called Stone Pavement, and in Hebrew Gabbatha.”
This location is now unknown. Tourists today are shown a very ancient pavement (over two thousand square yards in area!) at the site of the Fortress Antonia, but this is unlikely. Not only is the Antonia no longer believed to be the site of Pilate’s praetorium, but the text seems to require a more specific location than the pavement shown today, which has the same general appearance that any large public square would have had, and in any event probably dates from no earlier than the second century. More likely, the “Stone Pavement” was a platform of some kind (possibly marked by a mosaic) on which the “judge’s bench” stood. Moreover, “Gabbatha” is not the Hebrew translation of the Greek word for “Stone Pavement,” but rather an Aramaic word of uncertain meaning, possibly referring to a height or ridge of some kind (whether natural or man-made). It seems to have been simply the name given by the Jews to the specific “place” known to Pilate and the Romans as “Stone Pavement.” It is doubtful that the Gospel writer actually expected his readers to know and visualize the location, any more than he expected them to know the location of the pool of Bethsaida (5:2), or Siloam (9:7), or the “portico of Solomon” (10:23), or for that matter “Golgotha” (19:17). The notice simply lends concreteness to the narrative, telling the reader that these were real events that happened at a particular time and place, not forgotten but known and remembered by the author and other witnesses.
To the same end the Gospel writer adds a narrative aside, “Now it was the preparation of the Passover; it was about the sixth hour,” and, resuming the narrative, goes on to tell us that Pilate then “says to the Jews, ‘Look, your king!’ ” (v. 14). The two designations of time (“preparation of the Passover,” and “the sixth hour”), closely linked to the presentation of Jesus as king, seem to carry more weight than the two designations of place (“Stone Pavement” and “Gabbatha”). The “preparation” normally meant Friday, the day before Sabbath (see Mk 15:42), but in connection with “the Passover” it refers to the day before Passover, when lambs were slaughtered in “preparation” for the Passover meal. Although the Gospel writer does not labor the point, Jesus, “the Lamb of God” (1:29), will die on that very day. That it was indeed the “preparation” in that sense was clear from the moment Jesus was brought to Pilate, when those who brought him “did not go into the praetorium, so that they might not be defiled but might eat the Passover” (18:28). Later, however, we will learn that it was the “preparation” in both senses, for it seems to have been a year in which the Passover also fell on a Sabbath (see below, vv. 31, 42).
As for the notice that “it was about the sixth hour,” any reader familiar with other Gospels will notice a conflict with the tradition that “It was the third hour when they crucified him” (Mk 15:25). It is commonly agreed that in the Gospels (as in the Mediterranean world generally) daytime was reckoned from 6:00 a.m. on, so that “the third hour” would be 9:00 a.m. and “the sixth hour” noon. A surprising number of commentators have theorized that “the sixth hour” is a Johannine invention designed to make the point that Jesus was crucified at the precise time the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the temple. But the evidence for this is late and obscure (according to Exod 12:6, the lambs were to be slaughtered “at twilight”), and one would expect the Gospel writer to call attention to such a remarkable correspondence. It is better to content ourself with the recognition that while the text “does link Jesus’ death with the slaughter of the Passover lambs in the temple,” the link is “of the day rather than the hour.” This means that “the sixth hour” as the approximate time of the presentation and crucifixion of Jesus is not merely a theological construction, but is to be taken seriously as a tradition independent of Mark. It should also be noted that all three synoptic Gospels testify to “the sixth hour” as the time when darkness began to “cover the whole earth” (Mt 27:45//Mk 15:33//Lk 23:44).
In the interest of harmonization, some have proposed that in this instance, the new day began at midnight (as in Roman law), so that “the sixth hour” would be 6:00 a.m., but besides being inconsistent with other time references in the Gospel of John (1:39; 4:6, 52), this expedient creates more problems than it solves. Too much has happened since “early morning” (18:28) for “the sixth hour” to be only 6:00 a.m. Moreover, if we are to have the crucifixion at 9:00 a.m. (as in Mark), the three hours that must still elapse between verse 14 and verse 17 (when Jesus is crucified) are left unaccounted for. And why would the Gospel writer fix the time of Jesus’ presentation as king so precisely and the time of his crucifixion not at all? It appears rather that the Gospel writer wants to call attention to two decisive events, close together in time—the presentation as king (vv. 13–14), and the crucifixion (vv. 17–18)—each linked to a specific place identified with both a Greek and a Semitic name (vv. 13, 17), with an approximate time designation in between, sufficient to locate both (“it was about the sixth hour”). If—as is generally agreed—the crucifixion is Jesus’ “lifting up” (as in 3:14; 8:28; 12:32), it is just as plausible to think of the presentation, “Look, your king!” as his “glorification” (as in 7:39; 11:4; 12:16, 23, 28; 13:31–32; 17:1, 5), for the one is no less ironic than the other. As far as the Gospel writer is concerned, whatever the shame of crucifixion, Jesus was in fact “lifted up” to the Father, and whatever Pilate’s motivation, “glorified” here as “Son of God” and “King” (see vv. 7, 12).
And what was Pilate’s motivation? It appears that “Look, your king!” has a performative quality that “Look, the man!” (v. 5) does not have. Jesus is obviously a man, but not so obviously a king, and, rhetorically at least, Pilate is making him a king. Clearly, the pronouncement is a direct response to the threat of “the Jews” that “If you release this one, you are not a friend of Caesar,” because “Everyone who makes himself king opposes Caesar” (v. 12). The accent, therefore, in the words, “Look, your king!” falls on “your.” Pilate is saying, in effect, “How dare you threaten me! He is your king after all!” The reader cannot help but recall his earlier words, whether to them (“You take him, and judge him according to your law,” 18:31, and “You take him, and crucify,” 19:6), or to Jesus (“Am I a Jew? Your nation and the chief priests handed you over to me,” 18:35). All along he has tried to dissociate himself from them and their grievances. Now that they have threatened to accuse him of disloyalty to Caesar, he throws the word “king” back in their faces. If Jesus is in any sense “King of the Jews” (18:33, 39; 19:3), then it is they, not he, who are disloyal to Caesar.
15 The drama continues: “They then cried out, ‘Take, take! Crucify him!’ Pilate says to them, ‘Shall I crucify your king?’ The chief priests answered, ‘We have no king except Caesar!’ ” (v. 15). Dodging for a moment the issue of their own loyalty, they once again “cried out,” now for the fourth time (see 18:40; 19:6, 12), as the redoubled “Take, take! Crucify him!” picks up the redoubled “Crucify, crucify!” of verse 6. Again Pilate throws their own word back in their faces, this time (as in v. 6), the word “Crucify.” “Shall I crucify your king?” he asks, reminding them once again that the issue is not his loyalty to Caesar but rather, “Who is your king?”
On the positive side, Pilate’s question, “Shall I crucify your king?” juxtaposes for the reader crucifixion and kingship, allowing two seemingly incompatible notions to illumine and interpret each other. Jesus will indeed reign as king in this Gospel—of the Jews, and of all people—not from a throne but from a cross, for his violent and shameful death will reveal once and forever his eternal kingship. But on the negative side, deliberately or not, Pilate’s question forces from the Jewish priests a pledge of allegiance to Rome: “We have no king except Caesar!” (v. 15b). It is the final irony. Not content with rejecting Jesus, “the Jews” reject their own Jewishness. Any discussion of the so-called anti-Semitism or anti-Judaism of the Gospel of John must take account of the fact that in the eyes of the Gospel writer those who crucify Jesus are no longer “Jews” in any meaningful way, but loyal subjects of Rome who acknowledge “no king except Caesar”—in that sense Romans! Their bold words, “We are Abraham’s seed, and have never been in slavery to anyone” (8:33), now ring more hollow than ever. In denying Jesus they have denied as well any hope of a messianic king, and beyond that even the kingship of their God, the God of Israel. While not as hurtful or anti-Semitic in its long-range effects, “no king except Caesar” in John’s Gospel is in its way no less disturbing than Matthew’s “His blood be on us and on our children” (Mt 27:25), for it presents a Judaism that—momentarily at least—denies its very existence.
J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, The New International Commentary on the Old and New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, UK: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2010).
Exported from Logos Bible Software, 10:01 AM February 27, 2024.