Mat. 27:15-26a; Mark 15:6-15a; Luke 23:13-25; John 18:39-19:16
With Jesus before him again, Pilate called the Jewish leaders back to the tribunal.
“You have brought this Man to me as a supposed inciter of the people, but neither Herod nor I have found any wrongdoing in Him, so I’ll have Him scourged and let Him go.”
The Jews strenuously objected. Then Pilate had what he thought was a good idea for effecting Jesus’ release. Every year at the time of the Passover the Roman Procurator would release to the people one prisoner whom the government was holding and would free him of all charges. This was meant to have a calming effect on the Jews who were known to be sensitive and easily aroused at Passover time.
There was at that moment, languishing in prison, a notorious prisoner named Barabbas, who had been arrested for rebellion and murder. Pilate thought that, although the Jews despised Jesus, if they were given a choice between the infamous Barabbas and Jesus, they would choose Jesus. At least Jesus was not guilty of the same desperate crimes as Barabbas. Pilate had many vices, but it is evident he did not want to imprison Jesus, much less crucify Him.
Pilate cried out to the crowd gathered in front of the judgment hall, “Whom shall I release to you, Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Christ?” It is highly likely that, with such a choice presented to them, the common people would have chosen Jesus in spite of their keen disappointment in Him.
But the leaders of the Jews shouted to the people, “Ask for Barabbas! Ask for Barabbas!”
A large group of people can quickly become mob?like; and this crowd was no exception. They fast caught the evil impetus that was in the Jewish leaders’ actions and cried, “Away with this man! Give us Barabbas!”
“What then shall I do with Jesus?” Pilate asked them. Oh, what a searching question for everyone! What indeed will we do with Jesus: crucify Him afresh?
The mob had made their fateful decision to ask for the release of Barabbas instead of Jesus. Now they were incited by their leaders to compound their guilt and bring the whole edifice of razed justice crashing down on Jesus’ immaculate head. “Crucify Him!” they cried.
There was enough evil in that microcosm of mankind gone mad to make the staunchest of men to tremble. It was not just human caprice; it was a pit?spawned spirit of evil that enveloped the whole mass of humanity thronging the area before the judgment hall. All around rose the throaty roar of a horde of crazed persons who had lost touch with reality, caught up in the demonic tide that would willingly sweep Jesus into being merely a passing memento of history.
When the shouting subsided somewhat, Pilate said, “Why? What evil has He done?”
And again the mob, urged on by the chief priests, gave full voice to their awful demand: “Crucify Him!”
Pilate wanted all the more to release Jesus because some time during Jesus’ trial Pilate’s wife had sent word to Pilate, “Have nothing to do with this just Man. I have suffered a great deal today because of a dream I had of Him.” But Pilate could prevail not a little. Calling for a basin of water, he washed his hands in it and said, “I am innocent of the blood of this just Person. You see to it.”
“His blood be on us and our children,” they shouted, casting aside all caution in their frenzy and madness.
Mat. 27:26b?31a; Mark 15:15b?20
Pilate set Barabbas free, but Jesus he sent to be scourged, after which He was to be crucified. The soldiers took Jesus to an inner courtyard of the praetorium where they prepared Him for scourging. (Tenney 1967, 761: “Scourge.”) They bared His back to the waist, bound His hands behind His back, and then tied Him, in a stooped over position, to a stake in the ground. In this way His back could receive the full force of the lash as it descended. The lash, or scourge, was a three?thonged whip with jagged pieces of metal or bone attached to the ends. Victims were known to faint or even die from the ordeal.
As mentioned previously, we cannot get elaborate details from the Scriptures of Jesus’ ordeal. We have to use an informed imagination; and even though we may cringe from the picture, we must force ourselves to look at it. It is only natural not to want to see such degradation and torture inflicted on Him who is our very life and on whom our affections are centered. But this is the reason we love Him so: He suffered it all for us when He in no way had to do it. Perhaps the statement is wrong — He did have to do it. His love compelled Him to this extremity and would not let Him avoid the journey into torture on which He was now embarked since the fateful moment in Gethsemane.
So we look at Deity clothed in flesh as the soldiers roughly prepare Him for His scourging and push and curse Him. We force ourselves to look at Him as the lash descends on His back with the full force of an unfeeling arm behind it. The onlooker can see the jagged ends as they cut deeply into the flesh, and watch in distress as Jesus’ body convulses in the searing pain and a cry escapes his lips. Horror-stricken, we can feel in some small measure His exquisite suffering and are appalled as we see His back gradually turn into one crimson mass as the welts crisscross it until they are scarcely distinguishable one from the other. And all that our tear blurred eyes can make out is raw, bleeding flesh.
It is needful that we look at this tragic scene. It is not only a tremendously moving tale of deep and enduring love: it actually happened. It was a literal event and the love that engineered this exacting yet great redemptive design is more real than the world around us.
The soldiers were not yet through with their brutal diversion. As Jesus sagged at the stake, they untied Him and jerked Him to His feet, His mind blurred by a fog of pain. Somewhere they found a purple robe which they draped on Him, the touch of it on His back causing needles of pain to jab at Him.
“He said He was a king,” someone said. “Let’s dress Him like one.”
Next, they reasoned, He must have a crown. One of them got the idea of plaiting a crown of thorns, which they hastened to do and then pressed it down on His brow. He meekly endured it as fresh drops of blood appeared amid the traces of dried blood from Gethsemane. Putting a reed in Jesus’ hand for a scepter, the soldiers knelt before Him.
“Hail, King of the Jews!” they shouted in mockery. Then they spit on their newly elevated king and, taking the reed out of His hand, they struck him over the head with it.
After a while their sadistic urge tapered off and they took Him back to Pilate. Pilate took Jesus out to the people again. He had been a bedraggled figure before, but now the change for the worse was striking. Still there was no sympathy in the myriad of eyes fastened on Him — only a monumental unconcern at best or, at worst, a deep hatred that wanted Jesus swept completely out of their lives. It is amazing how inhumane mankind can be to its own kind.
Staggering behind Pilate as the two of them came before the throng, Jesus stood mute in front of them. If Pilate had any doubts as to the crowd’s sympathies at this moment, they were soon dispelled.
Pointing to Jesus still wearing the purple robe and the crown of thorns, Pilate said, in wonderment and possibly some compassion, “Behold the Man!”
The mob was intractable and again cried out as one, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!”
“You crucify Him,” Pilate shot back. “I find no fault in Him.”
“He broke our law by saying He is the Son of God.”
An uneasy feeling closed in on Pilate like a thick cloud, stifling his sense of security. Was there any truth to this preposterous claim? Who was this Man?
He took Jesus back inside and asked Him, “Where are you from?” Jesus remained silent.
“Don’t you know,” Pilate said a little testily, “that I have the power to crucify you or release you?”
“You have no power at all” Jesus replied with conviction, “except what is given you from above.” Pilate was impressed. From then on he tried to free Jesus, but was frustrated by the Jews and his own cowardice. He recalled that the Jews had made a point of telling Pilate, “If you let this Man go you are not Caesar’s friend. Whoever makes himself a king sets himself against Caesar.”
Pilate brought Jesus out and he (Pilate) sat down in the judgment seat. He gestured dramatically toward Jesus. “Behold your King!”
There is the possibility that it was said not altogether in mockery. Pilate was without doubt strangely moved by this Person who was altogether wretched looking and yet exuded such an air of calm and imperturbability.
The Jews were adamant, crying again, “Away with Him! Crucify Him!”
“Shall I crucify your king?”
“We have no king but Caesar.” These were strange words from a nation who had always insisted that they submitted to no foreign power. The Jews were now so inflamed with their hatred of Jesus that their former intense dislike of foreign dominion became a triviality. Pilate, seeing a clear and present danger of yet another Jewish uprising, yielded and gave Jesus over to be crucified.
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