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Pilate

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Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Oct 12, 1876

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 2, No. 42.

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Pilate.

By Joseph Clarke

“What I have written I have written.” John 19:22. There were traits in the character of Pilate which, if he had cultivated, might have saved him from being a participant, or rather a principal, in the wicked act of taking the life of Christ.
It is evident that Pilate was aware of the eminent piety of the Saviour, and that the rulers of the Jews were envious of his increasing popularity and widely-spread influence.
Pilate had the power to defend his subjects from the injustice of the mob, and from the craftiness of the envious Jewish Senate and priesthood, and no doubt he intended to do this; but the fury and wilfulness of the Jews, and the strong determinations of the rulers of that infuriated people, together with the overbearing, cruel temper of Herod and his men of war, were too much for his weaker resolutions.
The faint whisperings of conscience, and the agonizing prayers and tearful remonstrances of his considerate wife, were overborne by the popular clamor; and poor Pilate yielded his noble and manly nature to the ruling spirit of the age, and lent his authority to the demands of the mob, and the deed was consummated: Jesus was crucified.
The feelings of Pilate on this occasion may be conjectured from his writing the words, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews,” and placing them upon the cross; and we may still further judge of his feelings, when, directed by the haughty prelates of the church to change the sense of the inscription, he replied with some independence of mind, “What I have written I have written.”
This was as much as to say, I have yielded my judgment to yours; I have, contrary to law and justice, crucified the best of men, because of your angry, envious clamor; I have sacrificed my own peace of mind for the sake of pleasing the most turbulent of all people, the Jewish nation, and now, in this last little tribute of respect to so good a man, I am still pursued by the persistent spite of this unaccountable wickedness and injustice, towards a man of guileless reputation, and of the most exalted principles.
From the depth of my soul, I detest the part I have acted in this matter; and I have no doubt of the injustice of the act. I shudder at myself, as I think of the scorn, the cruelty, and the shameless effrontery manifested by the prosecuting parties in this terrible tragedy.
And now that haughty rulers have done their work, in urging me on to act contrary to my best impulses by signing the death warrant of an innocent man, these wicked hypocrites have the audacity to dictate to a Roman Governor what title shall be placed upon the cross of their own national benefactor, whom they have betrayed. But for once I will act as my judgment dictates. Goaded almost to madness, I have given Barabbas to freedom, and the prince of princes I have delivered to your will. To please rebellious citizens, I have sold my honor, forfeited self-respect, and yielded up my peace of mind forever.
To place this title upon the cross may, in some small degree, atone for the unwilling consent I have given to this decision. It may at least indicate to all that I have not acted voluntarily in condemning this just, this wonderful man. How could I have done so unjust an act: but it is done; it is too late to retract. I have acted a weak, unmanly part. I might have delayed this prosecution, and this final scene. I might have stemmed the tide of ridicule at Herod’s bar of justice; with my soldiers I might have silenced the false accuser, until the defense was heard from; and the part I have acted I might have placed on the side of justice and humanity.
But it is now over. Malignity has accomplished its cruel work, and here at this point of time I am insultingly bid to place a contemptuous title upon the cross of the man we have so much abused. Shame! Shall the final death struggle of this innocent man be made doubly bitter by the persistent malignity of his persecutors? Has not hatred satisfied itself? Shall justice be thwarted at every point in this disgraceful affair? For once I will do as conscience dictates. For once, but alas too late, I will act independently of this wicked, reckless influence. “What I have written I have written.” Let this remain to show that there is one Roman protest against a Jewish insurrection.
But to the application. Every generation has its opportunity to crucify Christ. Cain, in his enmity to Abel, crucified his Saviour; and those who lived in the time of Noah did the same in rejecting his warning; Jeremiah and the prophets were persecuted and ridiculed, and many of them were put to death; in all this Jesus was crucified.
But has this subject any thing for us, of the present age? Are we opposing the work of God in any way? If so, we are like the Jews who crucified our Saviour. Are any of us arrayed against the Sabbath reform? Are not the nations of the earth arming for a conflict? Are not the churches of this age preparing to install the Sunday of the Persians in the place of the true Sabbath? Is not this war against the Lawgiver? Is it not another crucifixion?
Are there not among the statesmen of our land, eminent and noble men, who to-day are fully prepared, as they believe, to defend the right, who will, when popular clamor demands the concession, do as Pilate did, yield their independence of mind, and decide on the side of the “wild Solar Holiday of Pagan times?”
The Judgment day will bring to light many Pilates, of every age of the world, who have yielded up honor and truth, justice and self-respect, to the demands of the popular voice.
JOSEPH CLARKE.