What Would You Do in Those Shoes?
June 2025
As an avid history buff who studies the practices of great (and not-so-great) leaders and how they deal with heart-wrenching dilemmas, I’ve concluded that while technology and language has evolved over time, basic human nature hasn’t really changed. Century after century, people’s basic needs, fears and care-abouts have pretty much stayed the same.
This realization struck me like a bolt of lightning while reading The Diary of Samual Pepys (pronounced Peeps), Secretary to the (English) Admiralty during the reigns of King Charles II and King James II. In addition to detailing his daily activities throughout the decade spanning January 1, 1660, through 1669—during the Great Plague of London, the Great Fire of London, and the second Anglo-Dutch War—Pepys’ now-world-famous diaries also chronicled his most private thoughts, feelings, passions and fears.
Although I initially toiled through with his 17th century colloquial expressions, once I got used to the language, I couldn’t put the book(s) down. It was impossible not to put myself in his shoes as he navigated the triumphs and struggles of his everyday life. Aside from the processes imposed or mitigated by the infrastructures of the time, Pepys’ thoughts and emotions pertaining to his business dealings and affairs of the heart were not unlike our own today, 350+ years later. Recognizing all the parallels was an epiphany.
An even deeper revelation struck me when I came across a reprint of a chapter from the book, Archaeological Writings of the Sanhedrin and Talmuds of the Jews: Taken from the Ancient Parchments and Scrolls at Constantinople and the Vatican at Rome, Being the Record Made by the Enemies of Jesus of Nazareth in His Day, the Most Interesting History Ever Read By Man.
[NOTE: The description of this book on Amazon states, “This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.”]
The chapter which I initially came across as an independent piece online was titled Chapter IX: ‘Acta Pilati,’ or Pilate’s Report of the Arrest, Trial, and Crucifixion of Jesus. As the title alludes, it is the first-hand account of Pontius Pilate, originally written in Latin, to his boss Tiberius Caesar, the Roman Emperor from AD 14 to 37, immediately following the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. I’ve included the complete English translation of Pilate’s letter, below, detailing his involvement, skepticism, distress, fears, and regrets about what ultimately became a world-changing phenomenon. Imagine being in his shoes while you read along and consider what, if anything, you might have done differently.
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To Tiberius Caesar, Emperor of Rome. Noble Sovereign.—Greeting:
The events of the last few days in my province, have been of such a character that I will give the details in full as they have occurred; as I should not be surprised if, in the course of time, they may change the destiny of our nation, for it seems of late that all the gods have ceased to be propitious. I am almost ready to say, Cursed be the day that I succeeded Vallerius Flaceus in the government of Judea; for since then my life has been one of continual uneasiness and distress. On my arrival at Jerusalem, I took possession of the pretorium, and ordered a splendid feast to be prepared, to which I invited the tetrarch of Galilee, with the high priest and his officers. At the appointed hour no guests appeared. This I considered an insult offered to my dignity, and to the whole government to which I belong. A few days after the high priest deigned to pay me a visit. His deportment was grave and deceitful. He pretended that his religion forbade him and his attendants to sit down at the table of the Romans, and eat and offer libations with them, but this was only a sanctimonious seeming, for his very countenance betrayed his hypocrisy. But I thought it expedient to accept his excuse, but from that moment I was convinced that the conquered had declared themselves the enemy of the conquerors; and I would warn the Romans to beware of the high priests of this country. They would betray their own mother to gain an office and procure a luxurious living. It seemed to me, of the conquered cities, Jerusalem was the most difficult to govern. So turbulent were the people that I lived in momentary dread of an insurrection. I had not soldiers sufficient to suppress it. I only had one centurion and a hundred men at my command. I requested a reinforcement from the prefect of Syria, who informed me that he had scarcely troops sufficient to defend his own province. An insatiate thirst for conquest to extend our empire beyond the means of defending it, I fear, will be the cause of final overthrow of our whole government. I lived in obscurity from the masses, for I did not know what those priests might influence the rabble to do; yet I endeavored to ascertain as much as I could the mind and standing of the people.
Among the various rumors that came to my ears, there was one that attracted my attention in particular. A young man, it was said, had appeared in Galilee, preaching with a noble unction, a new law in the name of the God that had sent him. At first I was apprehensive that his design was to stir up the people against the Romans; but my fears were soon dispelled. Jesus of Nazareth spake rather as a friend of the Romans than the Jews. One day in passing by the place of Siloe, where there was a great concourse of people, I observed in the midst of the group a young man who was leaning against a tree, calmly addressing the multitude. I was told it was Jesus. This I could easily have suspected, so great was the difference between him and those who were listening to him. His golden colored hair and beard gave to his appearance a celestial aspect. He appeared to be about thirty years of age. Never have I seen a sweeter or more serene countenance. What a contrast between him and his bearers, with their black beards and tawny complexions. Unwilling to interrupt him by my presence, I continued my walk, but signified to my secretary to join the group and listen. My secretary’s name was Manlius. He was the grandson of the chief of the conspirators who encamped in Etruria waiting for Cataline. Manlius was an ancient inhabitant of Judea, and well-acquainted with the Hebrew language. He was devoted to me and worthy of my confidence.
On entering the pretorium I found Manlius who related to me the words Jesus had pronounced, at Siloe. Never have I read in the works of the philosophers anything that can compare to the maxims of Jesus. One of the rebellious Jews, so numerous in Jerusalem, having asked him if it was lawful to give tribute to Caesar, Jesus replied: “Render unto Caesar the things that belong to Caesar, and unto God the things that are his.”
It was on account of the wisdom of his sayings that I granted so much liberty to the Nazarene; for it was in my power to have had him arrested, and exiled to Pontus; but this would have been contrary to the justice which has always characterized the Roman government in all her dealings with men; this man was neither seditious nor rebellious; I extended to him my protection, unknown perhaps to himself. He was at liberty to act, to speak, to assemble, and address the people to choose disciples, unrestrained by any pretorian mandate. Should it ever happen (may the gods ever avert the omen!), should it ever happen, I say, that the religion of our forefathers should be supplemented by the religion of Jesus, it will be to this noble toleration that Rome shall owe her premature obsequies, while I, miserable wretch, shall have been the instrument of what the Jews call Providence, and we call destiny.
This unlimited freedom granted to Jesus provoked the Jews, not the poor, but the rich and powerful. It is true, Jesus was severe on the latter, and this was a political reason, in my opinion, for not restraining the liberty of the Nazarene,—“Scribes and Pharisees,” he would say to them, “you are a race of vipers; you resemble painted sepulchers; you appear well unto men, but you have death within you.” At other times he would sneer at the alms of the rich and proud, telling them that the mite of the poor was more precious in the sight of God. New complaints were daily made at the pretorium against the insolence of Jesus. I was even informed that some misfortune would befall him; that it would not be the first time that Jerusalem had stoned those that called themselves prophets; and, if the pretorium refused justice, an appeal would be made to Caesar. However, my conduct was approved by the Senate, and I was promised a reinforcement after the termination of the Parthean war.
Being too weak to suppress a sedition, I resolved upon adopting a measure that promised to establish the tranquility of the city, without subjecting the pretorium to humiliating concession. I wrote to Jesus, requesting an interview with him at the pretorium. He came. You know that in my veins flows the Spanish mixed with Roman blood—as incapable of fear as it is of puerile emotion. When the Nazarene made his appearance, I was walking in my Basilic, and my feet seemed fastened with an iron hand to the marble pavements, and I trembled with every limb as a guilty culprit, though he was calm; the Nazarene was as calm as innocence itself. When he came up to me he stopped, and by a signal sign he seemed to say to me, “I am here;” though he spoke not a word. For some time I contemplated with admiration and awe this extraordinary type of man—a type of man unknown to our numerous painters who have given form and figure to all the gods and the heroes. There was nothing about him that was repelling in its character, yet I felt awed and tremulous to approach him.
“Jesus,” said I unto him at last—and my tongue faltered—“Jesus of Nazareth, I have granted you for the last three years ample freedom of speech; nor do I regret it. Your words are those of a sage. I know not whether you have read Socrates or Plato, but this I know, there is in your discourses a majestic simplicity, that elevates you far above these philosophers. The Emperor is informed of it, and I, his humble representative in this country, am glad of having allowed you that liberty of which you are so worthy. However, I must not conceal from you that your discourses have raised up against you powerful and inveterate enemies. Neither is this surprising. Socrates had his enemies, and he fell a victim to their hatred. Yours are doubly incensed against you, on account of your discourses being so severe against their conduct; against me, on account of the liberty I have afforded you. They even accuse me of being in directly leagued with you, for the purpose of depriving the Hebrews of the little civil power which Rome has left them. My request—I do not say my order—is, that you be more circumspect and moderate in your discourses in the future, and more tender toward them, lest you arouse the pride of your enemies, and they raise against you the stupid populace, and compel me to employ the instruments of law.”
The Nazarene calmly replied: “Prince of the earth, your words proceed not from true wisdom. Say to the torrent to stop in the midst of the mountain gorge: it will uproot the trees of the valley. The torrent will answer you that it obeys the laws of nature and the creator. God alone knows wither flow the waters of the torrent. Verily I say unto you, before the rose of Sharon blossoms the blood of the just shall be spilt.”
“Your blood shall not be spilt,” said I, with deep emotion; “you are more precious in my estimation on account of your wisdom that all the turbulent and proud Pharisees, who abuse the freedom granted them by the Romans. They conspire against Caesar, and convert his bounty into fear, impressing the unlearned that Caesar is a tyrant and seeks their ruin. Insolent wretches, they are not aware that the wolf of the Tiber sometimes clothes himself with the skin of the sheep to accomplish his wicked ends. I will protect you against them. My pretorium shall be an asylum, sacred both day and night.”
Jesus carelessly shook his head and said with a grave and divine smile: “When the day shall have come, there will be no asylums for the son of man, neither in the earth nor under the earth. The asylum of the just is there,” pointing to the heavens. “That which is written in the books of the prophets must be accomplished.”
“Young man,” answered I mildly, “you oblige me to convert my request into an order. The safety of the province, which has been confided to my care, requires it. You must observe more moderation in your discourses. Do not infringe my order. You know the consequences. May happiness attend you; farewell.”
“Prince of the earth,” replied Jesus, “I come not to bring war into the world, but peace, love and charity. I was born the same day on which Augustus Caesar gave peace to the Roman world. Persecutions proceed not from me. I expect it from others, and will meet it in obedience to the will of my Father who has shown me the way. Restrain, therefore, your worldly prudence. It is not in your power to arrest the victim at the foot of the tabernacle of expiation.”
So saying, he disappeared like a bright shadow behind the curtains of the Basilic to my great relief, for I felt a heavy burden on me, from which I could not extricate myself while in his presence.
To Herod, who then reigned in Galilee, the enemies of Jesus addressed themselves, to wreak their vengeance on the Nazarene. Had Herod consulted his own inclinations, he would have ordered Jesus immediately to be put to death; but though proud of his royal dignity, yet he was afraid of committing an act that might diminish his influence with the Senate, or like me, was afraid of Jesus himself. But it would never do for a Roman officer to be scared by a Jew. Previous to this Herod called on me at the pretorium, and, on rising to take leave, after some insignificant conversation, asked me what was my opinion concerning the Nazarene. I replied that Jesus appeared to me to be one of those great philosophers that great nations sometimes produced; that his doctrines are by no means sacrilegious, and that the intentions of Rome were to leave him to that freedom of speech which was justified by his actions. Herod smiled maliciously, and, saluting me with an ironical respect, departed.
The great feast of the Jews was approaching, and the intention was to avail themselves of the popular exultation which always manifests itself at the solemnities of a passover. The city was overflowing with a tumultuous populace, clamoring for the death of the Nazarene. My emissaries informed me that the treasure of the temple had been employed in bribing the people. The danger was pressing. A Roman Centurion had been insulted. I wrote to the Prefect of Syria for a hundred foot soldiers, and as many cavalry. He declined. I saw myself alone with a handful of veterans in the midst of a rebellious city, too weak to suppress a disorder, and having no other choice left but to tolerate it. They had seized upon Jesus, and the seditious rabble, although they had nothing to fear from the pretorium, believing, as their leaders had told them, that I winked at their sedition—continued vociferating: “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
Three powerful parties had combined together at that time against Jesus: First, the Herodians and the Sadducees, whose seditious conduct seemed to have proceeded from double motives: they hated the Nazarene, and were impatient of the Roman yoke. They could never forgive me for having entered the holy city with banners that bore the image of the Roman Emperor; and although in this instance I had committed a fatal error, yet the sacrilege did not appear less heinous in their eyes.
Another grievance also rankled in their bosoms. I had proposed to employ a part of the treasure of the Temple in erecting edifices for public utility. My proposal was scorned. The Pharisees were the avowed enemies of Jesus. They cared not for the government. They bore with bitterness the severe reprimands which the Nazarene for three years had been continually throwing out against them where ever he went. Too weak and pusillanimous to act by themselves, they had embraced the quarrels of the Herodians and the Sadducees. Besides these three parties, I had to contend against the reckless and profligate populace, always ready to join a sedition, and to profit by the disorder and confusions that resulted therefrom.
Jesus was dragged before the High Priest, and condemned to death. It was then that the High Priest, Caiaphas, performed a divisory act of submission. He sent his prisoner to me to pronounce his condemnation and secure his execution. I answered him that, as Jesus was a Galilean, the affair came in Herod’s jurisdiction, and ordered him to be sent hither. The wily Tetrarch professed humility, and, protesting his preference to the Lieutenant of Caesar, he committed the fate of the man to my hands. Soon my palace assumed the aspect of a besieged citadel. Every moment increased the number of the seditionists. Jerusalem was inundated with crowds from the mountains of Nazareth. All Judea appeared to be pouring into the devoted city. I had taken a wife from among the Gauls, who pretended to see into futurity. Weeping and throwing herself at my feet, “Beware,” she said to me, “beware, and touch not that man; for he is holy. Last night I saw him in a vision. He was walking on the waters; he was flying on the wings of the wind. He spoke to the tempest, and to the fishes of the lake; all were obedient to him. Behold, the torrent in Mount Kedron flows with blood, the statues of Caesar are filled with gemonide; the columns of the interium have given away, and the sun is veiled in mourning like a vestal in the tomb. Ah! Pilate, evil awaits thee. If thou wilt not listen to the vows of thy wife, dread the curse of a Roman Senate; dread the frowns of Caesar.”
By this time the marble stairs groaned under the weight of the multitude. The Nazarene was brought back to me. I proceeded to the halls of justice, followed by my guard, and asked the people in a severe tone what they demanded.
“The death of the Nazarene,” was their reply.
“For what crime?”
“He has blasphemed; he has prophesied the ruin of the Temple; he calls himself the Son of God, the Messiah, the King of the Jews.”
“Roman justice,” said I, “punishes not such offenses with death.”
“Crucify him! Crucify him!” belched forth the relentless rabble. The vociferations of the infuriated mob shook the palace to its foundations.
There was but one who appeared to be calm in the midst of the vast multitude; it was the Nazarene. After many fruitless attempts to protect him from the fury of his merciless persecutors, I adopted a measure which at the moment appeared to me to be the only one that could save his life. I proposed, as it was their custom to deliver a prisoner on such occasions, to release Jesus and let him go free, that he might be the scapegoat, as they called it; but they said Jesus must be crucified. I then appealed to them as to the inconsistency of their course as being incompatible with their laws, showing that no criminal judge could pass sentence on a criminal unless he had fasted one whole day; and that sentence must have the consent of the Sanhedrin, and the signature of the president of that court; that no criminal could be executed on the same day his sentence was fixed, and the next day, on the day of his execution, the Sanhedrin was required to review the whole proceeding; also, according to their law, a man was stationed at the door of the court with a flag, and another a piece off on horseback to cry the name of the criminal and his crime, and the name of his witnesses, and to know if any one can testify anything in his favor; and the prisoner on his way to execution had the right to turn back three times, and to plead any new thing in his favor. I urged all these pleas, hoping they might awe them into subjection; but they still cried, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
I then ordered him to be scourged, hoping this might satisfy them; but it only increased their fury. I then called for a basin, and washed my hands in the presence of the clamorous multitude, thus testifying that in my judgement Jesus of Nazareth had done nothing worthy of death; but in vain. It was his life these wretches thirsted for.
Often in our civil commotions have I witnessed the furious animosity of the multitude, but nothing could be compared to what I witnessed on this occasion. It might have been truly said that on this occasion all the phantoms of the infernal regions had assembled at Jerusalem. The crowd appeared not to walk, but to be borne off and whirled as a vortex, rolling along in living waves from the portals of the pretorium even unto Mount Zion, with howling screams, shrieks and vociferations such as were never heard in the seditions of the panonia or in the tumult of the forum.
By degrees the day darkened like a winter’s twilight, such as had been at the death of the great Julius Caesar. It was likewise the Ides of March. I, the continued governor of a rebellious province, was leaning against a column of my Basilic, contemplating athwart the dreary gloom these fiends of Tartarus dragging to execution the innocent Nazarene. All around me was deserted. Jerusalem had vomited forth her indwellers through the funeral gate that leads to Gemonica. An air of desolation and sadness enveloped me. My guards had joined the cavalry, and the centurion, to display a shadow of power, was endeavoring to keep order. I was left alone, and my breaking heart admonished me that what was passing at that moment appertained rather to the history of the gods than that of men. A loud clamor was heard proceeding from Golgotha, which, borne on the winds, seemed to announce an agony such as was never heard by mortal ears. Dark clouds lowered over the pinnacle of the temple, and setting over the city covered it as with a veil. So dreadful were the signs that men saw both in the heavens and on the earth, that Dionysius the Areopagite is reported to have exclaimed, “Either the author of nature is suffering, or the universe is falling apart.”
Whilest these appalling scenes of nature were transpiring, there was a dreadful earthquake in lower Egypt, which filled everybody with fear, and scared the superstitious Jews almost to death. It is said Balthasar, an aged and learned Jew of Antioch, was found dead after the excitement was over. Whether he died from alarm or grief is not known. He was a strong friend of the Nazarene.
Towards the first hour of the night I threw my mantle around me, and went down into the city towards the gate of Golgotha. The sacrifice was consummated. The crowd was returning home, still agitated, it is true, but gloomy, taciturn and desperate. What they had witnessed had stricken them with terror and remorse. I also saw my little Roman cohort pass by mournfully, the standard bearer having veiled his eagle in token of grief; and I overheard some of the Jewish soldiers murmuring strange words which I did not understand. Others were recounting prodigies almost similar to those which had so often smitten the Romans by the will of the gods. Some times groups of men and women would halt, then looking back towards Mount Calvary, would remain motionless in expectation of witnessing some new prodigy.
I returned to the pretorium sad and pensive. On ascending the stairs, the steps of which were still stained with the blood of the Nazarene, I perceived an old man in a suppliant posture, and behind him several Romans in tears. He threw himself at my feet and wept most bitterly. It is painful to see an old man weep, and my heart already overcharged with grief, we, though strangers, mutually wept together. And in truth it seemed that the tears lay very shallow that day with very many whom I perceived out of the vast concourse of people. I never saw such a complete division of feeling, both on the extreme. Those that betrayed and sold him, those that testified against him, those that said, “Crucify him, we will have his blood,” all slunk off like cowardly curs, and washed their teeth with vinegar. As I am told that Jesus taught a resurrection and a separation after death, if such should be the fact I am sure it commenced in this vast crowd.
“Father,” said I to him, after gaining control of my feelings, “who are you, and what is your request?”
“I am Joseph of Arimathea,” replied he, “and am come to beg of you upon my knees the permission to bury Jesus of Nazareth.”
“Your prayer is granted,” said I to him; and at the same time ordered Manlius to take some soldiers with him to superintend the interment lest it should be profaned.
A few days after the sepulcher was found empty. His disciples published all over the country that Jesus had risen from the dead, as he had foretold. This last report created more excitement than the first. As to its truth I cannot say for certain, but I have made some investigation in the matter; so you can examine for yourself, and see if I am in fault, as Herod represents me.
Joseph buried Jesus in his own tomb. Whether he contemplates his resurrection or calculated to cut him another I cannot tell. The next day after he was buried one of the priests came to the pretoruium and said they were apprehensive that his disciples intended to steal the body of Jesus and hide it, and then make it appear that he had risen from the dead, as he had foretold, and of which they were perfectly convinced. I sent him to the captain of the royal guard (Malcus) to tell him to take the Jewish soldiers, place as many around the sepulcher as were needed; then if anything should happen they would blame themselves, and not the Romans.
When the great excitement arose about the sepulcher being found empty, I felt a deeper solicitude than ever. I sent for Malcus, who told me he had placed his lieutenant, Ben Isham, with one hundred soldiers around the sepulcher. He told me that Isham and the soldiers were very much alarmed at what had occurred there that morning. I sent for this man Isham, who related to me as near as I can remember the following circumstances: He said at about the beginning of the fourth watch, they saw a soft and beautiful light over the sepulcher. He at first thought that the women had come to embalm the body of Jesus, as was their custom, but he could not see how they had got through the guards. Whilest these reflections were passing through his mind, behold, the whole place was lighted up, and there seemed to be crowds of the dead in their grave clothes. All seemed to be shouting and filled with ecstasy, while all around and above was the most beautiful music he had ever heard; and the whole air seemed to be full of voices praising God. At this time there seemed to be a reeling and swimming of the earth, so that he turned so sick and faint that he could not stand on his feet. He said the earth seemed to swim from under him, and his senses left him, so that he knew not what did occur. I asked him in what condition he was when he came to himself. He said he was lying on the ground with his face down. I asked him if he could not have been mistaken as to the light. Was it not day that was coming in the east? He said at first he thought of that, but at a stone’s cast it was exceedingly dark; and then he remembered it was too early for day. I asked him if his dizziness might not have come from being wakened up and getting up too suddenly, as it sometimes had that effect. He said he was not, and had not been asleep all night, as the penalty was death for him to sleep on duty. He said he had let some of the soldiers sleep at a time. Some were asleep then. I asked him how long the scene lasted. He said he did not know but he thought nearly one hour. He said it was hid by the light of day. I asked him if he went to the sepulcher after he had come to himself. He said not, because he was afraid; that just as soon as relief came they all went to their quarters. I asked him if he had been interrogated by the priests. He said he had. They wanted him to say it was an earthquake, and to say they were asleep, and offered him money to tell that the disciples came and stole him; but he saw no disciples; he did not know that the body was gone until he was told so. I asked him what was the private opinion of those priests he had convened with. He said some of them thought that Jesus was no man; that he was not a human being; that he was not the son of Mary; that he was not the same that was said to be born of the virgin in Bethlehem; that the same person had been on the earth before with Abraham and Lot, and at many times and places.
It seems to me if the Jewish theory be true, these conclusions would be correct, for, to sum up his life, it would be in accord with this man’s life, as is known and testified by both friends and foes; for the elements were no more in his hands than the clay in the hands of the potter. He could convert water into wine; he could change death into life, diseases into health; he could calm the seas, still the storms, call up fish with a silver coin in its mouth. Now, I say if he could do all these things—which he did, and many more as the Jews all testify; and it was doing these things that created this enmity against him; he was not charged with criminal offenses, nor was he charged with violating any law, nor of wronging any individual in person; all these facts are known to thousands, as well by his foes as by his friends; so I am almost ready to say, as did Manulas at the cross, “Truly this was the Son of God.”
Now, noble Sovereign, this is as near the facts in the case as I can arrive at them, and I have taken this pains to make the statement more full so that you may judge of my conduct upon the whole, as I hear that Antipater has said many hard things of me in this matter. With the promise of faithfulness and good wishes to my noble Sovereign,
I am your most obedient servant,
Pontius Pilate
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What parallels did you notice with modern times?
Pontius Pilate’s personal accounting of the three years before, during and after the crucifixion gave me a very different perspective of the Roman who by most other reports was portrayed as the villain. Just as with The Diary of Samual Pepys, I found it easy to relate to Pontius Pilate’s skepticism, distress, fears, and regrets over what he claimed transpired under his watch as Roman governor of the province of Judea.
According to Pilate’s report, he didn’t preside over any trial of Jesus, nor did he order the crucifixion of Jesus. Rather, Jesus was dragged before the High Priest, Caiaphas, who condemned Jesus to death. The High Priest then sent Jesus to Pontius Pilate, expecting Pilate to officially pronounce Jesus condemned and order his execution. In other words, the High Priest was directing the show. Pilate attempted to excuse himself from any involvement but was forced to participate due to his position within the Roman governmental hierarchy. Of course, modern-day believers understand it was God’s plan from the beginning to send His Son to die on the cross for the sins of mankind.
Being easier to play Monday-morning quarterback 2,000 years after the fact, let’s now assess Pilate’s report as a business case in Leadership. Consider these key points:
Pilate seemed concerned about adhering to the standards of Roman justice.
Pilate admitted he had committed a fatal error when he first entered the holy city bearing the banners of the Roman Emperor.
Following that, Pilate lived in obscurity from the masses.
Pilate claimed Jesus was neither seditious nor rebellious.
In response to the High Priest’s directive, Pilate rationalized that since Jesus was Galilean—rather than Judean—determination of Jesus’ fate legally fell under the jurisdiction of Herod, the tetrarch of Galilee and Perea. Pilate therefore ordered Jesus to be sent to Herod for prosecution.
Herod refused to accept the responsibility for determining Jesus’ fate and instead escalated the issue to a senior officer reporting to Roman Emperor Caesar.
The “finger pointing” went full circle when Caesar’s Lieutenant pushed responsibility back to Pontius Pilate.
Pilate’s emissaries informed him that the treasure of the temple had been employed in bribing the people.
Pilate’s palace and the entire city of Jerusalem were then inundated by a rebellious mob which demanded Jesus be crucified.
Pilate informed the rebellious crowd that under Roman law, Jesus had not committed any offense punishable by death.
Given how rich and powerful the Jews who rebuked Jesus were, Pilate was concerned that his personal tolerance of Jesus could cause the downfall of the Roman Empire.
Therefore, attempting to placate the mob, Pilate ordered Jesus to be scourged.
Pilate gave no indication of whether, under Roman law, “scourge” was a legally allowable or required punishment for either blasphemy or for calling oneself the Messiah.
Leadership Questions:
As the newly appointed ruler of Judea, should Pilate have known before entering the city of Jerusalem for the first time that a display of pageantry—bearing the banners of the Roman Emperor—could cause animosity? What should he have done instead?
If you had been in Pilate’s shoes, would you have “lived in obscurity from the masses” after taking over the position previously held by Vallerius Flaceus, or would you have assumed a command presence to set the tone and expectations of the citizenry?
Should Pilate have leveraged a more amiable, cooperative, or authoritative leadership style?
Should Pilate have warned the Herodians and/or the Sadducees about the potential consequences for sedition under Roman law?
If you had been in Pilate’s shoes, would you have treated the wealthy Jews and/or Jesus any differently to prevent an insurrection?
What modern day parallels can you identify with respect to bribing the people with the treasure of the temple?
As the Roman governor of Judea, what leadership and/or legal practices would you have employed to quell the mob and avert the execution of someone you believed to be not guilty of any crime?
If you had been in Pilate’s shoes, would you have chosen to scourge Jesus (a non-criminal) or scourged the rioters and/or seditionists without holding a trial?
How could Pilate have prevented the execution of Jesus, given the anger and animosity of the rich citizenry toward him?
Would Pilate have become the target of the wrath of wealthy citizens if he had taken legal action to prevent the crucifixion?
What steps should Pilate have taken to achieve a fair, just, and legal outcome?
The more things change, the more they stay the same. How would you apply your answers to the questions above to the current geopolitical and world economic situations? More importantly, how would you apply your answers to your own life challenges? Let me know in your comments.