61-Pilate-II-A

AND WE THOUGHT WE KNEW YOU:
SOUL JOURNEY WITH THE REAL JESUS

Pilate II
SOARING TO NOTHINGNESS

7:30 AM
Thursday, about April 14, AD 30 [1]
Jerusalem, Judea

�� The Honorable Pilate, Procurator of the southern-most Jewish province, must keep peace or lose his position with the Jews and with Rome.� It is an almost impossible task.�

�� Pilate does not know it yet, but he will last ten years here.� However, to manage that long of a term, he must commit ethical suicide.� Anyway, not long after, Caesar will come to Jerusalem himself and burn the city with the Temple in it.[2]

�� Since Caesar abolished the monarchy some twenty years before, there have been rebels everywhere declaring themselves king and calling for a revolution.� All have been violent.� All have been overthrown.� All have been powerless against the Roman occupiers. [3]

�� Now there is a new movement.� The fellow leading this one is strange.� He tells people they can have dual citizenship.� That is because no one can see his kingdom - it is spiritual, whatever that means.� Well, with all the crazies out there killing to take over, he seems harmless enough.�

�� There was an enormous cavalcade in his honor a few days ago.� Procurator Pilate thought it rather amusing.� An invisible kingdom, indeed....

�� "Sir, they're back.� They're demanding to see you.� They've still got that Jesus with them."

�� "I've got real enemies of the kingdom out there to contend with, and they waste my time with this guy.� Well, let's get it over with.� I know they won't dirty their hands to come into my home.� Not that I want them." [4]

�� Pilate walks out onto a veranda followed by a guard with a throne.

�� The religious officials and their prisoner move to where Pilate has consented to meet with them without dirtying their coming holy day. [5]

�� Jesus is still closely guarded, though physically he is in both exhaustion and pain.� The procurator watches Jesus shuffle in and sees that his chin and cheeks are covered with cuts.� He realizes what they have done to him.�

�� He sees pain reflected in Jesus' demeanor, but only because he recognizes the expression of the brave who almost successfully hide even the most excruciating pain ~ almost but not completely.

�� As Jesus slowly makes his way toward the front of the crowd, he stares at the procurator.� Both see men of power.� Neither feels threatened.

�� "Sir, we have returned to you because...."

�� Pilate looks over at the representatives of the Temple from his throne.

�� "I don't care why you returned to me," he interrupts.� "I told you before that I found this man not guilty, and Procurator Herod has backed me up."

�� "But, sir...."

�� "So I am going to give him a stern warning to not incite any riots.� Then you are going to release Jesus and let him go back to his family and friends." [6]

�� Panic.

�� Desperation.

�� Leaving now means never another chance.� Jesus will take over the Temple and disbar the entire Sanhedrin.

�� "Never!� You don't know this man!� He is devious and dangerous!"

�� "We will not leave without a conviction!"

�� "Oh, not that again!"

�� Pilate remembers when he first arrived in the territory several years earlier.� The military standoff occurred because the local people refused to leave his premises.� It lasted five whole days. [7]

�� "Bring the accused to me," he announces standing.� "I want to talk to him alone."

�� "It won't do you any good!� He refuses to talk!"one of the priests shouts after him.

�� Procurator Pilate disappears back into his palace.� Several Roman guards take custody of Jesus away from the Temple guards.� They prod him with the point of their swords to follow Pilate.� He is taken into a small receiving room where the procurator sometimes receives private guests. [8]

�� "Leave us."

�� "But, sir!"

�� "You heard me."

�� "Yes, sir!"

�� Now two men of power stand facing each other.�

�� Though Jesus' hair is matted with blood and sweat, though one eye is completely swelled shut and the other half shut, and though dried blood cakes on his face and neck, Procurator Pilate sees a man of honor.�

�� "Sit down a minute," he says pointing to a bench large enough for them both.� They sit side by side.�

�� "You have taken a lot from them to stand up for your principles.� You must really believe in what you're doing."

�� Jesus looks down at the floor and says nothing.� The procurator had not expected otherwise.

�� "They say you claim to be their king.� Are you?"

�� To Pilate's surprise, Jesus speaks.� His words are slurred but his voice is commanding.� He answers with a question.

�� "Did you arrive at this conclusion on your own, Jesus says, his mouth now swollen, "or did one of my followers tell you?"

�� Think, Pilate.� Search your soul.� Did you believe this a long time ago when you had only heard about him?� Are you reflecting what you would like to believe?� It's an invisible kingdom.� It advocates peaceful co-existence with yours.� Think. [9]

�� He stands and paces a short distance away.� Slowly.� Still thinking.� Suddenly he turns.

�� "How am I supposed to know?� I'm European.� They're Middle-Eastern.� I don't understand how they think.� It's your own people who turned you in.� I just want to know what you've done to them." [10]

�� "Procurator Pilate, my kingdom is not part of the physical world.� If it were, my followers would fight to get me released." [11]

�� "So you are a king, then!"� Pilate seems delighted.� He could use a good man like this.� Brains and brawn.� They'd make a good team.� "You really are a king, aren't you?"

�� "You are right."� Once more Jesus has forced the opposition to say out loud what Jesus is.� They have heard it from their own lips now.� They have confessed it even though they hadn't wanted to.

�� Jesus now stands back up.� "I AM." [12]

�� "In fact," he continues, "this is exactly why I was born.� This is why I entered this world from my own.� I had to testify what truth was.� Everyone who sides with truth listens to me."

�� "What IS truth?" [13]�

�� Procurator Pilate, used to being lied to and manipulated by everyone wanting their way in the government, is riled.� He jerks open the door and walks out.� Immediately the guards on standby in the corridor move in to take charge of Jesus and return him to the veranda.

�� "You know he's innocent, don't you?" Procurator Pilate shouts at several of the priests as he walks through the door back to his throne.� "You do too.� And you.� And you." [14]

�� He arrives, seats himself, and waits while Jesus is shuffled back into place to one side of him.

�� "Gentlemen, this is my offer.� Take it or leave it.� For my annual Passover pardon, you may have pardoned and released either Jesus, or the notorious assassin Barabbas."

�� Everyone is shocked.� He is blackmailing them. [15]

�� "We need a few minutes to talk it over."

�� "Take all the time you want."� The procurator leaves the veranda again.�

�� High Priest Caiaphas walks to the veranda.

�� "I am sending a message immediately to the Temple to get those witnesses over here from our own trial!� The rest of you, go out and stop people in the streets.� Some of you go over to the market.� Quickly.� Announce that Jesus is trying to destroy them, and they've got to come help stop him.� It's now or never.� Some of you warn as many Roman soldiers as you can to get battle ready."

�� Within minutes, people begin filing in.� Shouting people.� Angry people.� The people who had tried to make Jesus their king just days earlier. Opportunists who jump to whoever is winning.

�� "He's a fraud!"

�� "He didn't do anything for us!"

�� "He just used us!" [16]

�� On his way back outside to finish up the trial, Pilate receives a message from his wife.

�� "You're deciding the sentence of Jesus the noble teacher, aren't you?� You must release him.� Tragedy will come if you do not.� You must listen to me.� Do not execute Jesus.� You must not." [17]

�� This Roman holds the only power in the world to execute Jesus so he can finish his work.� But that power continues to fight it.� He does not want execute him.� Jesus must die to finish his life's work.� Jesus must die so mankind can live.� Irony continues to twist and turn and toy with providence.

�� Procurator Pilate walks back out onto the veranda and to his judgment seat.� The crowd takes a moment to calm down.� It is much larger than it was a few minutes earlier.� How did they pull that off?

�� People stare at Jesus.

�� "Look at him!" Pilate calls out.� "Can you see him up here?"

�� They are disgusted at what they see.� He is revolting to look at.� How could they have declared him king?� God didn't send him.� God wouldn't let this happen to an innocent man.� He was just using them.� Using them all.� They almost let it happen.� Jesus, with his own blood smeared all over his hair, his face, and his clothes, is repulsive to look at.� They hate him so. He's no longer the winner. And how they hate losers.

�� "All right, gentlemen.� What is your decision?"

�� "The citizenry and the Temple wishes the release of Barabbas."

�� "The assassin?� Are you crazy?"

�� "Barabbas!"

�� The crowd grows out of control.

�� "Barabbas!"

�� The procurator stands and motions to the guards to move in around Jesus and relocate him within reach of his judgment seat.� He motions his own soldiers to join them.� They stand in a circle around Jesus defending him with their swords.

�� Procurator Pilate raises his arms.� He shouts.� "But what about Jesus?"

�� "Crucify!"

�� "Crucify!" [18]

�� Pilate motions for the military commander to approach.� He leans forward and whispers something that obviously puzzles him.� The commander in turn whispers to one of his soldiers who also looks mystified, and who then disappears along with another soldier back into the palace.

�� The crowd, still deliriously chanting does not pay attention.�

�� "Crucify!"

�� Suddenly, a hush� comes over the priests in the front, and it works its way back until the crowd is hushed in perplexity.

�� A large brass basin is held in front of the procurator.

�� "What is he doing?" someone whispers.

�� "I don't know...."

�� Behind the first soldier, a second approaches with a large pitcher.� He pours its contents into the basin.� It is water.

�� Procurator Pilate stands.� He dips his hands in the water, then holds them up dripping for the crowd to see.�

�� "I wash my hands of the whole sordid mess you've created!" he calls out angrily.� "I rescind all responsibility for this innocent man's...."

�� Go ahead and say it, Pilate.� Say the word for us.� We have been waiting for you to say it.�

�� "...death!" [19]

�� Cheers rise from the blood thirsty crowd like a hungry dragon.

�� "I'm putting it back in your hands!" Pilate shouts above the the roar.� "If this day's events are questioned, it will be your necks!"

�� "We gladly take the blame!" High Priest Caiaphas shouts back.� "Even our children will be glad to take the blame!� This is a great day for the Temple!� Hallelujah!" [20]

�� Two documents are rushed to the judgment seat, one delivered by Pilate's scribe and one by the Sanhedrin's scribe.� Pilate looks at them.� He signs one document, then looks over at Jesus.�

�� They both know what the procurator has done.� But Jesus does not panic.� Jesus stands with shoulders back, head up, and eyes that continue to watch the events.� Swollen eyes.� Blackened eyes.� But eyes that say more than a thousand words.�

�� "Here is Barrabas' pardon!" he shouts over the noise of the crowd.� "Who wants to go personally get this 'innocent bystander' out of prison?"

�� With that, Pilate throws his pen down, turns, glances once more in Jesus' direction, and returns inside.� He has left the order of execution unsigned.� But everyone knows it is all but signed, sealed, and delivered.

�� High Priest Caiaphas goes to the veranda.� "Gentlemen, we have won!� The Temple has won!� Jesus has lost!"

�� The crowd cheers and whistles in approval.

�� "Kill Jesus!"

�� Immediately the military commander approaches the Temple guards and dismisses them.� His own soldiers, with drawn swords, now flank Jesus.� They march toward a back door and disappear with him. [21]

8:00 AM

�� Jesus is pushed down a dark hallway and into a large enclosed courtyard where a band of soldiers has gathered. [22]

�� "Hey, there he is!"

�� "Who?"

�� "God!� He says he's God!"

�� "Oh, one of those."

�� "He's as loony as they come."

�� Jesus' eyes adjust slowly to the bright sunlight.� Gradually he realizes there are chains on the wall with handcuffs attached to them.

�� "We get him until they get his execution arranged."

�� "A dead man, huh?"

�� "Better watch out!� Can't go around killing God!"�

�� Laughter.

�� Nevertheless, Jesus stands tall.� He will stand tall as long as he can.� He must.�

�� Then he notices a post about waist high in the middle of the courtyard.� He is prodded in the direction of the post.� He knows what is about to happen.� He prays.

�� "Oh God, not this too."�

�� Then he remembers the prophecy seven centuries earlier that he's been relying on through the night:� "He was beaten on and wounded for our sins...."

�� Yes, that's it, Jesus.� That's the one.� What else did it say?� "He was clubbed that we might have peace; he was whipped and by those stripes we were healed!" [23]

�� Yes, whipped.� Remember, it's for their sins.� Theirs....

�� They push Jesus over the post, his hands still chained behind him.� They release his hands only to rechain them to steel rings in the ground.

�� On the other side of the wall out on the street, they hear the remains of a mob and their sadistic chant.� "KILL JESUS!� Kill Jesus!� kill jesus...."

�� "Rip that robe off him!"

�� "They say he confessed to the Sanhedrin, but not the military.� Maybe we should elicit a confession from him."

�� "This should do it."

�� Jesus sighs a prayer to his father.� The cup of torment is tipped a little more.

�� "....oh, Father," he groans.� His heart races in anticipation of the horror that awaits him.� He clinches his teeth.

�� "Ahhhgggg!"

�� The leather whip tipped with two splintery chunks of lead is lashed across his naked back side. [24]

�� "Ahhhgggg!"

�� His mind tries in vain to refuse acknowledgement of the pain.� The excruciating pain.� The forever pain....

�� The whip attacks again.

�� "hhhgggg!"

�� And again.�

�� "Ahhhgggg!"

�� Cuts deep into his back.� Deep into his heart.� Bleeding.� Both bleeding.�

�� More slashing. [25]

�� "Ahhhgggg!"

�� Deeper and deeper into his tormented body.

�� "Ahhhgggg!"

�� Through skin, underlying tissues, veins, muscles, arteries.� All bleeding.� Gushing now with blood.�

�� "Ahhhgggg!"

�� Can he possibly live through it?� Most do not.

�� "Ahhhgggg!"

�� "That's enough, soldier!� We've got to have something left to crucify.� Unchain him."

�� Jesus slumps to the cold stone pavement near the death of shock. [26]� He lies still.

�� "Check his eyes.� He'd better still be alive."

�� Instead, another soldier kicks him.� "Get up, you swine.� Oh, wait!� He said he's the king."

�� "Well, well, well.� Our emperor.� Our commander.� This is our boss, guys!"

�� "Hey, boss!� Wanna get up now?"

�� Slowly, agonizingly Jesus moves one hand, then another.� He makes it to his knees, then to his feet.� The blood from his back follows a stream around his rib cage toward his chest, though much of it flows treacherously down to his tunic and become lost there.�

�� "Well, look at that!"�

�� Jesus looks down at the floor by the post.� His blood is spattered on it.

�� He fights to maintain equilibrium.� He fights to straighten up his back.� He fights to stand up tall.� No longer can he.

�� "Got more spunk than I figured."

�� You've made it through another prophecy, Jesus.� You've taken humanity's lashing for the healing of humanity.

�� "Guess we'd better do something before he bleeds to death.� He's got to live long enough to be executed."

�� Sadistic laughter.

�� "Got any rags around here?"

�� The centurion overseeing the proceedings intercedes.�

"Gentlemen!� Gentlemen!� Since our king is among us, he must present himself in dress uniform, ready to lead us to battle!� Uh, Gaius, over in the courtyard where they do the laundry, on a peg in the north corner, there's a....� Well, you'll see it.� Bring it here."

�� Jesus cannot fight off the dizziness.� His head reels and sometimes he feels he is falling, although he is not.� He puts his foot out to catch himself, and in the process jars the awful wounds on his back.� And his nerves cry out in hideous torment.

�� One of the soldiers disappears.� A door is slammed, and the noise shoots through Jesus' throbbing head.� He had forgotten his headache, for his back is now on fire.�

�� "What are you doing Saturday night?"

�� Jesus uses this time to gather his thoughts and keep them from scattering.� Scattering like lost sheep.� "The Lord is my shepherd...he lets me rest...gives me new strength...." [27]

�� "Is this what you wanted, sir?"� The young soldier is back.� He's holding an old robe discarded by Pilate.

�� "Exactly!� Well, we'd better get it on him before he bleeds to death.� After all, he's our king."

�� Laughter.� Hypocritical laughter.

�� A soldier scrapes the robe along Jesus' raw back and his wounds cry out in unbelievable agony.� Fire blazes amidst the blood and Jesus gnashes his teeth in unbearable pain.

�� And they stand back in satisfaction. [28]

�� "Look!� Our royal commander!"

�� More laughter.

�� "Hey, how about a battle helmet?� He's out of uniform without his crown!"

�� Sadistic excitement mounts.

�� "How's this?"

�� Another soldier walks forward with a battle helmet.� He holds it above Jesus' head with both hands, leers crazily, gives out a hyena laugh, then shoves the helmet down on Jesus' already injured head.�

�� The impact vibrates through Jesus' head like lighteningl exploding and raging and tearing it into shreds.

�� "Look!� A king!"

�� "Here!� Here's a broken spear.� That should make a perfect scepter."�

�� "....My father, my God...."

�� "That's not right.� He needs a crown!� Who's got a spare crown?"

�� Sadistic excitement mounts.

�� The young soldier darts outside, breaks off a branch from a thorny bush and rushes back in, shaping it as he goes.� "This ought to do the trick!"

�� He goes over to the stooped, robed figure and crushes the thorny crown onto a dirty, sweaty, matted head.� The hundreds of delicate blood vessels about his brow are dug open and weep freely of scarlet tears.

�� "Perfect!"� Then laughter.

�� "Hail!� Hail!"

�� Several soldiers stand to attention and salute.

�� "Oh yes, hail to the king!� Hail to the king!" [29]

�� The mocking laughter echoes through the Master's head, around the stone-cold courtyard, and up into the shadowy sunrise.

�� Another soldier stands at attention and begins to sing the song of triumph.� Others begin marching in formation in step with the mocking cadence.

�� The sound of their heavy sandals reverberates intolerably in Jesus' head.� He closes his eyes, but nothing goes away.

�� Think of another psalm.� Think.� Try to remember.� Yes!� Here's one:� "I'm standing silently before God.� I'm waiting for his rescue...rescue...rescue...." [30]

�� They march closer and closer until each soldier in succession is able to turn and spit in Jesus' face.� The spittle adds salt to the wounds on his face.� He flinches, but says nothing.� He closes his eyes and prays.

��"Oh, my God, my father.� Give me strength."

�� "Hey, his crown is on crooked.� Can't have that.� Not with our king and commander."

�� The soldier walks up to Jesus, jerks the thorny crown off of him, forcing his head sideways, then thrusts it back up.

�� "Oh, sorry, king.� Didn't mean to hit your ear."

�� Jesus winces in pain.

�� "Give me that!� You don't know how to put on a crown.� Let me do it!"

�� The other soldier grabs the crown back off Jesus' head, and thrusts it forward, hitting Jesus in his swollen eye.

�� "Uh, oh.� I did the same thing.� Can you believe it?" [31]

�� "Hey, someone said he was a prophet too."

�� "Yeah!� I heard he even performs miracles!� Let's see a performance!"

�� Jesus' head is jerked back and he is blindfolded.� One of the soldiers slaps him with the back of his hand.� "Okay, prophet.� Tell us.� Who slapped you?� If you can, that is."

�� "No answer?� Well, maybe this will help you," a second soldier declares.� He kicks Jesus, his legs weaken, and he falls to his knees.� "Well, how about it, prophet?� Who kicked you?"

�� "Hey, he's on his knees.� Maybe he's praying!"� More abominable laugher.

�� And he is indeed praying.� ....Oh, this cup....� His father is his only strength as he drinks his cup of death.� He must hang on to his father as long as he is conscious.

8:30 AM

�� " 'tention!"

�� The soldiers in the courtyard snap to.� They recognize their centurion's strong voice.

�� "The prisoner is wanted back in the palace."

�� Four soldiers immediately step forward at attention and salute.� Then they walk over to Jesus and once more chain his hands behind his back.

�� With two in front and two behind, they begin a slow walk out the courtyard and into the palace.� Slowly.� Very, very slowly....�

�� Jesus is now stooped.� He can no longer straighten what is left of his back.� Excruciating pain has taken over.� He feels as though he is walking through an inferno.

�� Every footstep jolts his exploding nerves like the quaking of a volcano.�

�� Think of another psalm, Jesus!� Try.� You must try!

�� "They say God will never help me...you're my only hope....my head...bowed in shame." [32]

�� Jesus slides his feet a few inches at a time.� The pain enshrouding his entire body has taken captive all of his senses.� Survival cries out and echoes through the halls of hell.

�� "If I die, I can't....glory....worn out with pain...." [33]

�� Jesus' breath is short and shallow.� He fights to remain conscious.� He must remain conscious.� To win, he must.� Slowly....� Painfully....� Agonizingly....

�� "Save me....pounce...maul...drag...no one to rescue...." [34]

�� One of the soldiers stops.� "This is getting us no where.� We'll have to drag him."

�� He and one other take hold of Jesus' arms and advance forward.� Jesus tries to make his feet work so that he can keep up with him to maintain some dignity.� He is grateful for the help, as degraded as it makes him look.

�� They go out the courtyard, into a corridor, and start up a stairway.� They have been told Pilate is now in an upper room above his veranda.� Jesus is half up the stairs.�

�� Procurator Pilate stands in the doorway watching, his wife at his side.� She gasps in disbelief when she sees Jesus, and cries.�

�� "What have they done to you?"�

�� "In here, men!"

�� Jesus is taken across the room to some windows.�

�� Procurator Pilate watches, amazed at Jesus' stamina.� There is something about this man.� If indeed he is just a man.� Something....

�� He steps outside onto a balcony.� The crowd gathered in the courtyard and out in the street outside the palace wall raise their voices in approval.�

�� Members of the Sanhedrin rush up to gain re-entry inside the courtyard.� They stand on the veranda staring up at the balcony and their Roman governor.

�� Procurator Pilate motions for silence.� The crowd complies in sadistic anticipation.� Did he die?� What's happening?� Did you kill him yet?

�� "Attention, everyone!� He is still in my custody.� He's been beaten enough that any man would confess to something just to stop the beating. He confesses to nothing. I still have found no evidence indicating any kind of treason!" [35]

�� Not again!� Procurator Pilate, you cannot win!� Just like Jesus!� You can't win!

�� With that, Pilate motions behind him.� Jesus slowly shuffles out onto the balcony.�

�� At first sight of the blood and mockery, the crowd roars in delight.� The same voices that had welcomed him to the city just a days earlier.� The same voices that had declared him their king.�

�� The same voices.� The same vigor.� But not the same ardor.� For their love has turned to hatred.� They had wanted to use Jesus to get their way.� He didn't make his move.� He had playing them all for fools.

�� Their victim is now almost unrecognizable.� But they would know him anywhere.� You do that with your enemies.

�� Jesus is still wearing the kingly robe and the crown of thorns.

�� "Behold!� The Man of the Hour!" [36]

�� Again the crowd roars, this time with boos and hisses.

�� See the people, Jesus?� Strain.� Try to see them.� You will have to become them in a few hours.� You will have to become every who ever fought good since the world began.� Hear them, Jesus?� You will be trading places with them soon.� You will be dying in their place.� Very soon.

�� The priests, call up to the balcony.� "You must execute him!� You must execute him!"

�� Pilate, still repulsed, cries out in anger, "You do it!� You execute him!� I tell you he is not guilty and I won't do it!" [37]

�� He turns to leave in disgust.

�� "Not according to Temple law is he innocent!� He's as guilty as sin!� He must die!� Die for claiming he is God!"

�� Pilate stops abruptly, turns, and glares down at His Rightness Caiaphas.� He then looks over at Jesus and his pulse quickens.� A god?

�� "Bring him back in here!" Pilate shouts at the soldiers supporting Jesus.

�� Pilate and Jesus are together again.� Frantic, he inquires, "You're a god?� Where did you come here from?"

�� Silence.

�� "Give me some help here.� Are you a god or not?"

�� Someone comes to the door.� He picks up a candle stand and throws it at the messenger.

�� "Answer me!"

�� Silence.

�� "You fool!"

�� He walks closer to Jesus.

�� "Don't you realize I'm the only one with the power to free you?"

�� "I know..."

�� Jesus has chosen once more to speak.� But only to the foreigner.� He listens.� Or tries to.

�� I know you're trying.� Jesus coughs.� I know the endless nights you will wonder why you gave in to them.� Jesus' chest is getting tight.� It is getting harder to breathe.�

�� "But you were given this power by God."� His voice is hoarse with injury, pain, and exhaustion.�

�� "The guilty one is that Temple leader who brought the charges against me."�

�� Pilate shakes his head.� "I can't let you go through with this.� There's something about you....� I've got to stop them.� Sit down a few minutes.� You need the rest." [38]

�� The procurator returns to the balcony, but this time without Jesus.�

�� "Attention, everyone!� I have come to a decision.� This man will not be executed!"

�� The crowd boos wildly.� Some run out into the street and dare people to drive their animals into them.� Others jump up on carts and wagons passing by, shaking them, trying to tip them.� Still others throw merchandise off of peddler's backs.� Then the stones.� The crowd begins picking up stones.� It's Jesus' fault.

�� The priests shout up at the procurator.� "If he goes free, you are a traitor to Caesar!� This man claims to be king!� Caesar abolished the royalty!� You are Caesar's enemy! We will report you!" [39]

�� They are hitting below the belt.� They know it.� The procurator knows it.� Jesus, listening inside, knows it.� Pilate knows that, if they report him to Caesar, he will not only lose his position, but possibly even be banished.

�� The procurator goes back inside but says nothing.� He looks at Jesus.� He looks in a mirror.� He looks out at the crowd now out of control.� Indeed, Jesus has finally managed to incite the riot they accused him of, and he has done it with his hands tied behind his back.

�� "Power!" Procurator Pilate thinks.� "What power this Jesus has!"�

�� He has grown to like Jesus.� Admire him even.� They could have been friends.�

�� Jesus stands and shuffles over to the procurator, each step shoving a myriad fiery needles into him.� He looks up the best he can despite the pain shooting through his back.� It's okay, he whispers.

�� Together, they leave the room and walk toward the stairs.��

�� "We're all spineless, Jesus, but you.� And they've practically beaten the spine off of you.� They'll never do it.� You'll win, even beyond the grave, won't you?"

�� Pilate descends the stairs and waits for the soldiers to drag Jesus down after him.�

�� "You men over there!� Protect him with your lives!� Is that understood?"

�� Ten soldiers on standby respond and surround Jesus and Pilate.� Then, together the procurator and the king walk slowly out onto the veranda.

�� "Tell your priests I want to see them," Pilate shouts into the crowd. [40]

�� As they wait, the two men look at each other in silence.� Pilate, the only one Jesus has trusted to talk to during the whole trial.� Jesus, the only one Pilate has ever thought he could trust with absolute truth.

�� "I'm sorry, friend.� I'm about to become your betrayer."

�� Just then the priests arrive.� Pilate sits down on his judgment seat.� His blood boiling.� He is handed a familiar parchment - the execution order.� Then he looks up at the priests. [41]

�� "Here is your king!" he shouts.� Jesus is a much better man than all of them put together.

�� "Get him out of our sight!" The high priest shouts.� "We never want to see him again!� Execute him!"

�� Still unable to let go of what Procurator Pilate knows is the truth, he shouts back, "Shall I execute your king?"

�� "We have no king but Caesar!";�

�� "Hail Caesar!� Hail Caesar!� Hail Caesar!"

�� The priests have sworn their allegiance at last.� It is not to God.� It is to the one who gives them power and prestige.� They have sold their souls for Jesus' flesh.

�� Quickly, knowing he could change his mind, Pilate picks up a pen and signs the execution order. [42]

�� "I'm sorry, Jesus," he whispers with his eyes.� "I'm truly sorry." [43]

�� Procurator Pilate will try to reconcile himself; for he along with his wife, will become convinced that somehow Jesus was a god.� He will personally request that Caesar and the Roman senate declare Jesus a god along with the others.� He will fail. [44]�

�� It only makes the Jewish leaders more incensed against him.� They bide their time.� They will crucify him somehow.

�� Eventually the opportunity will come.� He will execute one too many men for treason.� They will report it to Caesar, and they will be believed.� There will be more of them.� Only one of Pilate.� Just like there was only one of Jesus. [45]

�� Many legends will follow him.� Yes, enshrouded in myth, but possibly ~ very possibly ~ founded on some truth.� Every legend, even those from his own century, will infer that he eventually accepted Jesus, not just as a god, but as his God.

�� Still, he will always be haunted by what he did to Jesus.� And eventually he will no longer be able to face his deed.� For eventually he will commit suicide. [46]

�� A Peter?� A Judas?�

LIFE APPLICATION

1.�� It is popular today to say there is more than one truth, and that it is egotistical of any person or movement or religion to declare there otherwise. �If there is only one cure for a disease, is it egotistical to use the one cure?� Jesus said "I am THE way, THE truth, THE life" (John 14:6).� People who say they can accept Jesus' truth along with Buddhist's truth and Mohammed's truth are really denying Jesus.� The basic writings of each religion are available.� Investigate each one for scientific and prophetic truths to see if any of these religions can be proven one way or the other.

2.�� Power often corrupts, even in religion where people usually start out very sincere.� If you were a religious leader, how would you keep from using your power for your own ego?� Are you sure?

3.What is the difference in being just and justifying a deed that is not just?� Think about a time you justified yourself so you could do something that you knew deep down was wrong.� If faced with such a situation again, how will you handle it truthfully?

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