Pontius Pilate

On the one hand it is surprising that we know as much about Pontius Pilate as we do. After all, he was Roman Governor of a frontier province (Palestine) for a relatively short period of time (26 – 36CE). Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time…or the right place at the right time! 

Pilate’s modern fame is almost entirely dependent on a single prisoner, only intermittently in his custody and over a period of less than 24 hours, but a prisoner so famous, so consequential that Pilate’s brief and entirely unsatisfactory encounter was enough to make him the best known Roman Provincial Governor of all time. 

This was no ordinary prisoner; in time, he would become more famous than OJ (Simpson), more popular than Michael (Jackson), and more dangerous than Bobby (Seale or Sands). It’s fair to say that Pilate rode into history on Jesus’ coattails.

But there’s more to Pilate than bright lights; this is no Judge Ito. Pilate could be the avatar of an entire class of folks in the post-industrial West, society’s so-called middle managers.  

Several studies have shown that Middle Managers (MMs) experience more toxic stress than either the people they manage or the people who manage them. They are responsible for everything but empowered to do nothing. 

Still, the managerial class is subject to all the same ‘domestic pressure’ as the rest of us. Expenses always seem to outstrip income and then there is always the unsolicited advice, or demands, of family members. Yet, the middle manager class is strangely immobile. Rarely are C-suite executives pulled from MM ranks. 

On the other hand, eschewing the stress and returning to the factory floor is usually not an option either. Aging bodies are not well suited to manual labor and financial commitments, once undertaken, cannot easily be scaled back. 

By all accounts, Pilate is an able administrator with an impossible task. He is constantly under pressure from three constituencies:

1. Rome, ultimately the Emperor himself, demanding he maintain public order.

2. The Jewish residents of Palestine, the population he meant to ‘serve and protect’, seeking immediate cultural autonomy…and eventual political liberty.

3. His wife, Procla, who has her own mystically derived ideas, agitating for ‘a seat at the table’, a say in the affairs of state. 

   
   

Into this field of dry kindling steps Jesus, the spark. His claim to a ‘Kingdom not of this world’ threatens both Rome and the Jewish establishment in Jerusalem. On the other hand, it emboldens Procla to broadcast her darkly prophetic dreams.

Though apparently wanting to favor his wife is this matter, Pilate’s real political assessment of the situation would not allow it. In the end, he called for a bowl of water and attempted to abdicate his role in Jesus’ crucifixion by a ceremonial washing of hands. Congrats, Pontius, you’ve managed to make exactly no one happy; welcome to the world of the middle manager.

In the course of these proceedings, Pilate engages Jesus in a dialog that is among the best known, albeit most enigmatic, but also most consequential, ever recorded. Lucky there was a court reporter on hand…at that hour of the night…and on Preparation Day (before Passover) to boot!  

One could say that the books of the Old Testament share a common concern for Law (Torah), i.e. God’s order. In that case, the New Testament’s focus would be Truth (Aletheia) in the context of that order. Arguably, every book in the New Testament is addressed to Pilate (and through Pilate, us), answering his ‘overwhelming question’, What is Truth?

In Greek drama, there is a separate dramatic personage, Chorus, that represents us, the audience, and interacts with the other characters, asking questions or making comments on our behalf.

In the Gospel narratives, there is no Chorus per se. Different characters assume the role at different points in the drama, for example:

The self-interested Congregation at Capernaum

Jesus’ helicopter relatives in Nazareth

The clueless Apostles wherever they go

The Soldiers at the Foot of the Cross

Pilate too is Deux Ex Machina. He asks the questions we might have asked had we been in the room, if we’d had a seat at that table:

“Are you the King of the Jews?

Where are you from?

Why do you not speak to me?”

And finally,

“What is Truth?”

Are these not these questions we still ask today?

Image: Mattia Preti. Pilate Washing His Hands. 1663. Oil on canvas, 81 1/8 x 72 3/4 in. (206.1 x 184.8 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Purchase, Gift of J. Pierpont Morgan and Bequest of Helena W. Charlton, by exchange, Gwynne Andrews, Marquand, Rogers, Victor Wilbour Memorial, and The Alfred N. Punnett Endowment Funds, and funds given or bequeathed by friends of the Museum, 1978.