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The Gospel of John: The Verdict of the Dark

The Gospel of John: The Verdict of the Dark

Last updated on: July 16, 2026 at 11:02 am by Gabriel Blanchard

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The Gospel of John: The Verdict of the Dark 2026-07-16T11:02:15-04:00 Gabriel Blanchard

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The Gospel of John: The Verdict of the Dark (John 18:28-19:16/16a)

We move now from the ecclesiastical trials to a criminal trial. For this, the Lord must leave the Sanhedrin subcommittee’s custody—for we are in Iudæa*, now a Roman province for over twenty years, with a Roman* prōcūrātor*, one Pontius Pilatus, answerable to Emperor Tiberius. We know from parallel accounts in the Synoptics that some parts of this criminal trial have been left out, yet the Fourth Gospel arguably gives us the most complete portrait of Pontius Pilatus.*

EDIT: As I’ve discussed many a time before, this evangelist loves his sets of seven, and I was far from certain I’d caught them all. Sure enough, I had one staring me in the face in this text the whole time, and never noticed! A skim-through of the relevant passage from the Sacra Pagina volume on John clued me in to it. Long story short: because Pilatus has to keep going in and out of the prætorium, we get a total of seven distinct scenes within this pericope, four outside the prætorium and three within it.

18:28-32, outside—Qayafa’s party approach Pilatus about Yeshua.
- 18:33-38a, inside—Pilatus examines Yeshua.
18:38b-40, outside—Pilatus offers to release Yeshua, but Qayafa’s party call for bar-Abbas.
- 19:1-3, inside—Yeshua is mocked by Pilatus’ soldiers.
19:4-8, outside—Pilatus presents Yeshua to the crowd, trying to appease them.
- 19:9-12, inside—Pilatus tries to examine Yeshua further, but Qayafa’s party threaten his position.
19:13-16a, outside—Pilatus assents to condemn Yeshua.

(Edit incorporated at approx. 11:00 a.m., 16th July 2026.)

Note: depending on the English version you may be using, the last verse of text here may or may not appear to correspond to the entirety of 19:16. The Greek text that I’m mainly working from (that preferred by the Society for Biblical Literature) has v. 16 continuing until what is, in the Greek, a colon following the first clause of the next sentence, and v. 17 picking up from there; by contrast, the RSV reassigns this clause (“So they took Jesus”) to v. 17. This is why there appears to be a discrepancy between the two references given in the headings below for the passage: the enumeration of the verses is different, but the material is the same.

John 18:28-19:16, RSV-CE

Then they led Jesus from the house of Caiaphas to the prætorium. It was early. They themselves did not enter the prætorium, so that they might not be defiled, but might eat the passover.a So Pilate went out to them and said, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” They answered him, “If this man were not an evildoer, we would not have handed him over.”b Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.” The Jews said to him, “It is not lawful for us to put any man to death.” This was to fulfill the word which Jesus had spoken to show by what death he was to die.

Jezus Przed Pilatem [Jesus Before Pilate] (1881), by Mihály Munkácsy.

Pilate entered the prætorium again and called Jesus, and said to him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”c Jesus answered, “Do you say this of your own accord, or did others say it to you about me?” Pilate answered, “Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me; what have you done?”c Jesus answered, “My kingship is not of this world; if my kingship were of this world, my servants would fight, that I might not be handed over to the Jews;d but my kingship is not from the world.” Pilate said to him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king.d For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Every one who is of the truth hears my voice.” Pilate said to him, “What is truth?”

After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again, and told them, “I find no crime in him. But you have a custom that I should release one man for you at the Passover; will you have me release for you the King of the Jews?” They cried out again, “Not this man, but Barabbas!”e Now Barabbas was a robber.

Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged him. And the soldiers plaited a crown of thorns, and put it on his head, and arrayed him in a purple robe;f they came up to him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and struck him with their hands. Pilate went out again, and said to them, “Behold, I am bringing him out to you, that you may know that I find no crime in him.” So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!”g When the chief priests and the officers saw him, they cried out, “Crucify him, crucify him!” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and crucify him, for I find no crime in him.” The Jews answered him, “We have a law, and by that law he ought to die,h because he has made himself the Son of God.” When Pilate heard these words, he was the more afraid; he entered the praetorium again and said to Jesus, “Where are you from?” But Jesus gave no answer.i Pilate therefore said to him, “You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?” Jesus answered him, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore he who delivered me to you has the greater sin.”

Upon this Pilate sought to release him, but the Jews cried out, “If you release this man, you are not Cæsar’s friend; every one who makes himself a king sets himself against Cæsar.” When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judgment seat at a place called The Pavement, and in Hebrew, Gabbatha.j Now it was the day of Preparation of the Passover; it was about the sixth hour.k He said to the Jews, “Here is your King!” They cried out, “Away with him, away with him, crucify him!” Pilate said to them, “Shall I crucify your King?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but Cæsar.”l Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.

John 18:28-19:16a, my translation

Then they lead Yeshua from Qayafah to the prætorium; it was early; and they did not enter into the prætorium, in order that they should not be stained but might eat the Paskha.a So Pilatus came outside to them and said, “What accusation do you bring against this person?”

They told him in response: “Unless he were doing bad, we would not have given him over to you.”b

So Pilatus said to them, “You take him, and judge him according to the Law.”

The Flagellation of Christ from the Madgeburg Ivories (10th c.)

The Jews said, “It is not allowed to us to kill no one”: in order that the word of Yeshua might be fulfilled that he spoke signifying what kind of death he was going to die.

Then Pilatus went back inside the prætorium and called Yeshua and said to him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”c

Yeshua responds: “Are you saying this from yourself, or did others talk to you about me?”

Pilatus responds, “What! am I a Jew? Your own nation and the high priests have given you over to me; what did you do?”c

Yeshua responds: “My kingship is not from this world; if [it] were from this world, my kingship, my attendants would be fighting, in order that I should not be given over by the Jews;d yet now, my kingship is not from here.”

So Pilatus says to him, “Ah, you are a king then, no?”

Yeshua responds, “You are saying that I am a king.d I have been born for this and I came into the world for this, in order to witness to the truth; everyone who exists from the truth hears my voice.”

Pilatus says to him, “What is truth?” And, saying this, he went back out to the Jews, and tells them: “I find no cause against him; yet it is your custom that I release one [prisoner] for you on Paskha: do you then intend that I release to you the king of the Jews?”

So they cried back, saying, “Not him, but bar-Abba.”e (Bar-Abba was a burglar.)

So then Pilatus took Yeshua and flogged [him]. And the soldiers braided a crown out of thorns and put it on his head, and threw a purple cloak around him,f and they began coming up to him and saying, “Rejoice, the king of the Jews”; and they slapped him.

And Pilatus came outside again and says to them, “Look, I am leading him outside to you, in order that you should know that I find no cause against him.” Then Yeshua came outside, bearing the thorny crown and the purple cloak. And he says to them: “Look—this [is the] person.”g

Ecce Homo [Behold the Man] (1490),
from the school of Hieronymus Bosch.

Then, when they saw him, the high priests and their attendants cried, saying, “Crucify [him], crucify [him].”

Pilatus tells them, “You take and crucify him, for I do not find cause against him.”

The Jews responded to him, “We have a law, and according to the law he ought to die,h because he made himself God’s son.”

Then, when Pilatus heard that word, he was the more frightened, and went into the prætorium again and says to Yeshua, “Where are you from?” But Yeshua gave him no answer.i So Pilatus tells him, “Aren’t you speaking to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you and have authority to crucify you?”

Yeshua responds to him, “You would not have no authority over me unless it had been given to you from the top; because of this, the one who gave me over to you has a greater sin.”

From this [point], Pilatus searched to release him; yet the Jews cried, saying, “If you release this [man], you are no friend to Cæsar—everyone who makes himself a king speaks against Cæsar.”

So when Pilatus heard those words, he led Yeshua outside, and sat on a daïs in a place called the Flagstones, or in Aramaic Gabbetha.j It was the preparation [day] for Paskha; it was near sixth hour.k And he says to the Jews, “Look, your king.”

Then those cried, “Take him away, take him away, crucify him.”

Pilatus says to them, “Should I crucify your king?”

The high priests responded: “We have no king except Cæsar.”l So he then gave him over to them, in order that he should be crucified.

Textual Notes

a. They themselves did not enter the prætorium, so that they might not be defiled, but might eat the passover/they did not enter into the prætorium, in order that they should not be stained but might eat the Paskha | αὐτοὶ οὐκ εἰσῆλθον εἰς τὸ πραιτώριον, ἵνα μὴ μιανθῶσιν ἀλλὰ φάγωσιν τὸ πάσχα [autoi ouk eisēlthon eis to praitōrion, hina mē mianthōsin alla fagōsin to Pascha]: The hypocrisy on display hardly requires comment. However, it is worth observing that the habit of feigning to oneself that moral duties can be compromised if ritual ones are observed more exactingly is a human habit, not a uniquely Jewish one. Also, it is a perennial issue perennially corrected in Scripture, not an Old Covenant issue finally being corrected in the new: “to obey is better than sacrifice” dates back at least as far as the composition of the Book of Samuel, and, if the narrative in that book is to be trusted, it dates as far back as the reign of Saul.

The Caiaphas Ossuary, a mortuary container
discovered in 1990 in Israel, possibly that of
Yousef ben Qayafa (Caiaphas). Photo by deror
avi, used via a CC BY-SA 3.0 license (source).

b. If this man were not an evildoer, we would not have handed him over/Unless he were doing bad, we would not have given him over to you | Εἰ μὴ ἦν οὗτος κακὸν ποιῶν, οὐκ ἄν σοι παρεδώκαμεν αὐτόν [ei mē ēn houtos kakon poiōn, ouk an soi paredōkamen auton]: I doubt I’m the first to observe, that’s an awfully roundabout way of not saying what he’s ostensibly guilty of.

c. Are you the King of the Jews? … Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me; what have you done?/Are you the king of the Jews? … What! am I a Jew? Your own nation and the high priests have given you over to me; what did you do? | Σὺ εἶ ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων; … Μήτι ἐγὼ Ἰουδαῖός εἰμι; τὸ ἔθνος τὸ σὸν καὶ οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς παρέδωκάν σε ἐμοί· τί ἐποίησας; [sü ei ho basileus tōn Ioudaiōn? … mēti egō Ioudaios eimi? to ethnos to son kai hoi archiereis paredōkan se emoi: ti epoiēsas?]: Pilatus’s exasperation throughout is likely operating on multiple levels. First of all, a criminal case has just been dumped in his lap by the Sanhedrin, on the eve of a holiday no less.1 But on interview, the “criminal” turns out to be a local loony who’s, yes, annoying, but obviously completely harmless. (Pilatus naturally knows nothing about this guy, but he knows the type; new philosophical sects and mystery religions were everywhere in the young Empire. Everybody in the Mediterranean has by now been accosted on their way somewhere by an unwashed Cynic2 or a Neopythagorean sage2 or a devotee of Isis2 or whatever—shut up and take this obol,3 I need to leave now or I’m going to miss the ferry!)

Worse, whatever exactly is the matter with this particular loony, it seems to have something to do with the finer points of the holy book these Orientals are so touchy about … and they want Pilatus to give a judgment? Ha ha ha ha, that’s a bad idea. They don’t even like Gentiles setting foot on the Temple Mount if it can be helped. This has NOPE and TOUCH ME NOT and IT’S A TRAP written aaall over it.

But there may have been more than local drama on the governor’s mind. This possibility is strictly speculative, and has to be, since we don’t know the precise year in which the Crucifixion took place. However, what we do know is who was emperor when it happened; and thereby hangs a tale.

In the autumn of 14 CE, at the age of 55, Tiberius Julius Cæsar4 had succeeded his stepfather as emperor. He began as an effective, even-handed administrator. That said, he was not the charismatic personality Augustus had been: he had been made grim by a long series of personal disappointments and tragedies (which continued into his reign), and had already attempted to retire before. By the early 20s, he was spending less and less time in Rome; in 26 he moved out of the city altogether, permanently. He communicated with the Senate by letter as needed, but many practical affairs were placed in the hands of a prefect of the imperial bodyguard, one Lucius Ælius Sejanus, who had been assisting Tiberius in his work for some years at this point.

A map of the Roman Empire under Tiberius
(yellow and green indicate Roman territory; client
realms are in pink). Map by Cristiano64, used via
a CC BY-SA 4.0 license (source).

Exactly why the following occurred is not known—some key sources (e.g. Tacitus’ Annals covering the relevant period) are lost. Nonetheless, there is a near-consensus among historians, ancient and modern, that Sejanus had been using his influence to amass power, and had designs against his master; whatever they were, they were withered before any fruition. In the year 31 Tiberius abruptly denounced Sejanus to the Senate, ordering his execution without trial. A horrific purge of his associates followed, which went as far as the killing of his two prepubescent children. The remainder of Tiberius’ reign, which lasted until 37, was marked by the remote emperor’s paranoia and the people’s terror, which overwhelmed even their hatred.

What has all this got to do with the text? Well, it certainly indicates why, from late 31 onwards, any Roman official’s blood might run cold on hearing the accusation “You are no friend to Cæsar.” In Pilatus’ case, however, the issue may have been even more pressing. This is not an established fact; but, because Pontius Pilatus is thought by most scholars to have begun his tenure as prōcūrātor in the year 26, it’s possible that he was nominated for the post by Sejanus. If so, and if the Crucifixion took place in the year 32 (or any later year), the precariousness of Pilatus’ position can hardly be overstated. A man in such circumstances might feel that anything would be better than letting a negative report of him, from whatever source, come to the emperor’s ears.

d. My kingship is not of this world; if my kingship were of this world, my servants would fight, that I might not be handed over to the Jews … You say that I am a king/My kingship is not from this world; if [it] were from this world, my kingship, my attendants would be fighting, in order that I should not be given over by the Jews … You are saying that I am a king | Ἡ βασιλεία ἡ ἐμὴ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου τούτου· εἰ ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου τούτου ἦν ἡ βασιλεία ἡ ἐμή, οἱ ὑπηρέται οἱ ἐμοὶ ἠγωνίζοντο ἄν, ἵνα μὴ παραδοθῶ τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις … Σὺ λέγεις ὅτι βασιλεύς εἰμι [hē basileia hē emē ouk estin ek tou kosmou toutou: ei ek tou kosmou toutou ēn hē basileia hē emē, hoi hüpēretai hoi emoi ēgōnizonto an, hina mē paradothō tois Ioudaiois … sü legeis hoti basileus eimi]: This is, and has long been regarded as, a crucial statement of the nature of Christ’s kingdom. Violent means5 cannot promote his rule: not that they aren’t allowed to, but that they are not able to. This is a lesson Christians of many stripes have been trying harder and harder not to learn for many centuries.

I also want to draw attention to two differing phrases here: the RSV has “to the Jews”; I have instead rendered the phrase τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις as “by the Jews.” Now, the phrase in question is in the dative case, the default meaning of which is usually easiest to render with a prepositional phrase using “to” or “for,” besides being the case for a sentence’s indirect object. There is, however, a rather rare use of the dative case that’s called a dative of agent, which I think may be the idea here.

Illumination (c. 1225) of Christ before Pilate
from a French Bible moralisée. Copyright
holder unclear; used via a CC BY-SA 4.0
license (source).

This idea is very tentative. It wouldn’t fly if this were written in Classical Greek, for instance. Classical Greek only allows the dative of agent to be used with passive verbs in the perfect and pluperfect. (Short version in English: if “I” is the subject, the perfect passive version of the verb “to kick” would be I have been kicked, i.e. it just happened and is still relevant right now; the pluperfect would be I had been kicked, i.e. I’m describing events of the more remote past, and I’ve reached a point in my narrative at which the information about me being kicked was, at the time, relevant.)

However, in the New Testament, we’re not dealing with Classical but with Koiné—K-mart-brand Greek, if you will. Moreover, though these forms are by no means identical, the verb here (παραδοθῶ) is an aorist, which, like the perfect and pluperfect, is generally treated like a past tense; and it is in the passive voice. To me, it seems like there’s at least a chance that, at this time and by this author (whose Greek is rather strange throughout), the dative of agent could have been transferred to an aorist verb.

My reason for bothering with all this conjecture is: if the more conventional meaning of the dative is assumed, this statement doesn’t make much sense. The Lord had pretty decidedly already been “handed over to the Jews,” several hours ago now (which his disciples had fought, even if unsuccessfully). They had finished with him. The issue was now in Roman hands, which was the entire reason he was speaking to Pilatus in the first place. Alluding to his being handed over by the Jews to the Romans, however, who (as Pilatus points out) have the power to crucify him, is currently relevant and does make sense.

e. Barabbas/bar-Abba | τὸν Βαραββᾶν [ton Barabban]: This name appears to mean “son of [the] father” or “son of [his] father,” derived from a simple patronymic term, בַּר [bar] (just like the O’ or Mac in many Irish surnames), and the standard Aramaic word for “father,” אַבָּא [‘abâ’]. (Some manuscript traditions make Barabbas “Jesus Barabbas,” which would come out as Yeshua bar-Abba in my nomenclature system. Jesus/Yeshua was a common enough forename in the first century, but to my mind, a criminal bearing this name being rendered a substitute for Christ is so appallingly cheesy, I find it impossible to believe this is anything but a pious6 invention.) Strong’s—for reasons unknown to me—instead derives this αββᾶς [abbas] from אֲבַגְתָא [‘Àvagh’thâ’], a name which originates in neither Hebrew nor Aramaic, but in Old Persian.

On the seventh day, when the heart of the king was merry with wine, he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, and Abagtha, Zethar, and Carcas, the seven chamberlains that served in the presence of Ahasuerus the king, to bring Vashti the queen before the king with the crown royal, to shew the people and the princes her beauty: for she was fair to look on.
—Esther 1:10-11

The meaning of this name is not known, though it is possible that it’s related in some way to the Old Persian name Bagadātā, “god-given.”

Anonymous votive panel of the Man of Sorrows
(1443) from Wrocław, with instruments of the
Passion—note the spitting head behind the Virgin’s
halo, thirty pieces of silver at the upper left, etc.

f. the soldiers plaited a crown of thorns, and put it on his head, and arrayed him in a purple robe/the soldiers braided a crown out of thorns and put it on his head, and threw a purple cloak around him | οἱ στρατιῶται πλέξαντες στέφανον ἐξ ἀκανθῶν ἐπέθηκαν αὐτοῦ τῇ κεφαλῇ, καὶ ἱμάτιον πορφυροῦν περιέβαλον αὐτόν [hoi stratiōtai plexantes stefanon ex akanthōn epethēkan autou tē kefalē, kai himation porfüroun periebalon auton]: The various forms of ridicule on the part of the soldiers are of course parallel with emblems of royalty. The crown sounds as though it was probably much as we’ve been taught to imagine it, i.e. more or less circular, along the lines of a wreath or diadem rather than a cap. The species of thorny plant involved, however, is probably impossible to determine.

As for the cloak, the word “purple” almost certainly indicates Tyrian purple, an exceedingly expensive dye obtained from certain species of sea-snail: the color it produced might be anything from a darkish blue to a deep, rich shade of red, rather like the color of a garnet; the fact that the Gospel of Matthew describes the cloak as “scarlet” likely indicates that this one was toward the latter end of the range. Centurions wore red cloaks a little later on in imperial history, but I couldn’t find confirmation that this was already a general usage in the Roman army of the first century; however, given that Tyrian purple, as the name indicates, originated in Tyre, it was probably a little easier to obtain in the Levant, so perhaps it was already being assigned to senior centurions as a distinction, or something of that kind. Alternatively, since Luke informs us (23:11) that Herod sent Christ back to Pilatus in a “gorgeous robe,” perhaps this was a castoff from the Tetrarch’s household. (If so, this element may be out of chronological order in John‘s narrative; cf. note i below.)

g. Here is the man/Look—this [is the] person | Ἰδοὺ ὁ ἄνθρωπος [idou ho anthrōpos]: In Latin, this presentation of the accused is translated Ecce homo. Architectural features, works of art, and musical compositions (and of course allusions to any of these things, or to the event they are themselves alluding to) are apt to contain this phrase.

Christ before Pilate from the Maestà of Siena
(c. 1310), by Duccio di Buoninsegna.

h. We have a law, and by that law he ought to die/We have a law, and according to the law he ought to die | Ἡμεῖς νόμον ἔχομεν, καὶ κατὰ τὸν νόμον ὀφείλει ἀποθανεῖν [hēmeis nomon echomen, kai kata ton nomon, ofeilei apothanein]: This is, subtly, an odd choice of wording; it almost seems designed to render what law is under discussion ambiguous (“we have a law”—and this is a place where it is reasonable to insert the indefinite article in English). No mention is made of Moshe, which might be significant or might not. If it is, it doesn’t signify anything good. It put me in mind of the passing references made by Yeshua to “your law” in 8:17 and 10:34. In those two verses, I took it as a small piece of sarcasm, and I still think that interpretation makes sense; however, if that interpretation of mine is correct and this verse is deliberately meant to evoke those references, that sarcasm has been picked up and blended into something much darker—something that hints at the dreadful denunciation from chapter 8:

‘Amin, ‘amin, I tell you that everyone who does sin is slave of sin; the slave does not stay in the household into the age; the son stays into the age. … I know that you are Abraham’s seed; but you are searching to kill me, because this my word does not hold in you. The things I have seen from the Father, I speak; so you too hear and do things from the father. … If you were Abraham’s children, you would do Abraham’s works; but now you search to kill me, a person who has told you the truth which I heard from God; Abraham did not do this. You do the works of your father. … You are from your father, the Accuser, and you want to fulfill the desires of your father. That one was a murderer from the beginning, and did not stand in the truth, because no truth is in him. Whenever he tells a lie, he speaks out of his own [things], because he is a liar like his father. … He who exists from God hears God’s message; because of this you do not hear, because you are not from God.
—John 8:34-35, 37-38, 39b-41a, 44, 47

i. “Where are you from?” But Jesus gave no answer/”Where are you from?” But Yeshua gave him no answer | Πόθεν εἶ σύ; ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ἀπόκρισιν οὐκ ἔδωκεν αὐτῷ [«pothen ei sü?» ho de Iēsous ouk edōken autō]: Though John does not mention it, this sounds as though it was shortly before Herod’s interrogation of Christ:

They were the more fierce, saying, “He stirreth up the people … beginning from Galilee to this place.” When Pilate heard of Galilee, he asked whether the man were a Galilæan. And as soon as he knew that he belonged unto Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod, who himself also was at Jerusalem at that time. And when Herod saw Jesus, he was exceeding glad: for … he hoped to have seen some miracle done by him. Then he questioned with him in many words; but he answered him nothing. … And Herod with his men of war set him at nought, and mocked him, and arrayed him in a gorgeous robe, and sent him again to Pilate. And the same day Pilate and Herod were made friends together: for before they were at enmity between themselves.
—Luke 23:5-12

Fresco (16th c.) from a church on Mount Athos
depicting the Flagellation and the beginning of
the Via Crucis, by Theophanes the Cretan.

Pilatus was looking for any pretext to just get Yeshua taken off his hands, and one possibility was to make him Herod’s problem because he was native to Herod’s tetrarchate. Judging from the text of John here, it sounds as if he tried to get this information out of Yeshua first, but actually got it by chance from some of the accusing parties a little later on.

But, that’s only the literal meaning of Pilatus’s question, and the practical issue of the Lord’s silence. Just as “Qayafa, being high priest that year, prophesied,” so here the conversation (if that’s the right word for it) has a wider significance. The forces of the dark are dark; they can “grasp” the light only in the crudest and most mechanical of senses, only in the same way that they can “grasp” a rock—that is, they can surround and so, to a degree, conceal it. But they can really understand nothing about the light, from its source to its summit. I think the Lord Yeshua here is not only silent because his role as a rabbi is finished, but because there is, in a deep sense, no point in telling Pilatus anything: though Pilatus doesn’t realize this (or not yet), whatever the prisoner might say, it won’t affect his decision.

j. a place called The Pavement, and in Hebrew, Gabbatha/a place called the Flagstones, or in Aramaic Gabbetha | τόπον λεγόμενον Λιθόστρωτον, Ἑβραϊστὶ δὲ Γαββαθά [topon legomenon Lithostrōton, Hebra’isti de Gabbatha]: These two names indicate distinct traits of the place in question. The Greek name suggests a tessellated pavement—e.g., perhaps a rhombille tiling. The Aramaic, on the other hand, ultimately comes from a Hebrew word (גַּב [gav] “back,” as in the bodypart); the sense of it in Aramaic was of a place that was elevated—the same sentence has just mentioned a daïs. There is a Church of Ecce Homo (cf. note g) in Jerusalem today which was traditionally thought to be built over the Gabbetha, but this theory is apparently disfavored now, though I didn’t learn why.

k. it was about the sixth hour/it was near sixth hour | ὥρα ἦν ὡς ἕκτη [hōra ēn hōs hektē]: This conflicts with the account given in Mark, the only other canonical Gospel to give a time at which the Crucifixion began: “It was the third hour, and they crucified him” (15:25). I’ve heard somewhere that the Johannine timing is symbolic, ensuring that Yeshua’s death (in narrative terms) took place at the same time as the offering of the paschal lambs; however, this doesn’t make sense as a way to explain the Johannine-Marcan discrepancy, because that would be true as long as he died at “the ninth hour” (basically equivalent to our 3:00 p.m.)—which he is specified as doing in all the canonical Gospels, not just the Fourth. I cannot account for the discrepancy.

Kroning met de Doornenkroon [Crowning With
the Crown of Thorns] (1623), by Dirk van Baburen.

l. We have no king but Cæsar/We have no king except Cæsar | Οὐκ ἔχομεν βασιλέα εἰ μὴ Καίσαρα [ouk echomen basilea ei mē Kaisara]: As everyone knows, throughout most of its history both as a Republic and as an Empire, Rome waged many wars of conquest. It gradually absorbed the Italian Peninsula, then the Tyrrhenian Islands,7 Spain, the Maghreb, Greece, Gaul, Anatolia … Funny thing about Anatolia, actually: one of its principal states in the late second century BCE was the Kingdom of Pergamon, ruled by the Attalid dynasty—one of the important successor states to Alexander’s empire. Its sixth and final king, Attalus III, had no children, and took the quite unusual step of leaving his realm to the Roman Republic in his will. Similarly, when Goths started showing up at the edges of Roman turf in the third century (if not before), they were not merely envious barbarians seeking to ruin what they could not imitate; far from it. Many of the Gothic peoples who lived at the skirts of the Empire eagerly became, and for centuries remained, foederati—a status somewhere between allies and subjects, closer to the latter. Roman tech, Roman culture, Roman law, Roman religion, these things were extremely chic among the Vandals, Goths, Franks, and Burgundians. Force was not the sole means by which Roman influence and power spread. This was an institution the nations wanted to be part of. But I digress.

It is perhaps understandable that the Judeans would not, at this juncture, bring up Herod the Tetrarch. Besides the unpopularity of the Herodian dynasty, this took place in Yrushalem, where he was not king anyway.

That aside, it is rather more ominous that they do not mention God. Those who accuse the New Testament of anti-Semitism (or, revoltingly, “credit” it with anti-Semitism) rarely if ever cite this verse, or not that I’ve observed. This is a bit ironic, as it’s a much stronger point in favor of that thesis than the infamous line from St. Matthew, His blood be upon us and upon our children. That text has, in historical fact, been used pretty often as a pretext for anti-Semitic attitudes and actions, and it does sound pretty bad to anyone ignorant of the ritual of the Tabernacle and the Temple; that has not been removed from anybody’s Bible, so if we Christians are ignorant of it, we have nobody but ourselves to blame.

But, if there is any sincere Christianity to appeal to in any anti-Semite’s heart, that ostensible trump-text breaks in their hands on real analysis. There’s a laundry list of reasons this is true, most of them obvious to a moment’s thought: for example, that nobody has the power to inflict the guilt of their own sin on any of their descendants; or, that even at the time, not all Jews agreed to this. But—and I cite this not because I suppose that the Judaic theology of atonement was this mechanical, but because (in my thankfully-limited experience) the minds of anti-Semites tend to be superstitious—it runs most hopelessly aground on this:

When Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come … he entered once for all into the Holy Place, taking not the blood of goats and calves but his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption. For if the sprinkling of defiled persons with the blood of goats and bulls … sanctifies for the purification of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ … Therefore he is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, since a death has occurred which redeems them from the transgressions under the first covenant. … [E]ven the first covenant was not ratified without blood. For when every commandment of the law had been declared by Moses to all the people, he took the blood of calves and goats … and sprinkled both the book itself and all the people, saying, “This is the blood of the covenant which God commanded you.” And in the same way he sprinkled with the blood both the tent and all the vessels used in worship. Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.
—Hebrews 9:11-15, 18-22

“Adoration of the Mystic Lamb” from the Ghent
Altarpiece (c. 1432) of Jan van Eyck.

In other words, if the Lord’s blood being “upon us and our children” were theirs to decide in the first place, that would only make the Jews more sacred, not less. (And for anyone who’s wondering: no, persecuting a sacred people is not a good idea. Why did you ever think that persecuting the ethnicity God chose to take flesh from was a good idea? on any level?)

I hope that has duly exploded any anti-Semitic reading of the texts cited from either Matthew or John. (Other passages of the New Testament will have to wait their turn.) But this Johannine text does, I think, deliberately strike a note of tragedy. It evokes a different passage from the Bible, one that comes not from the Epistles, but from the Former Prophets.8

It came to pass, when Samuel was old, that he made his sons judges over Israel. … And his sons … turned aside after lucre, and took bribes, and perverted judgment. Then all the elders of Israel gathered themselves together, and came to Samuel unto Ramah, and said unto him, “Behold, thou art old, and thy sons walk not in thy ways: now make us a king to judge us like all the nations.”

… And Samuel prayed unto the LORD. And the LORD said unto Samuel, “Hearken unto the voice of the people in all that they say unto thee: for they have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me, that I should not reign over them. … [S]ince the day that I brought them up out of Egypt … they have forsaken me, and served other gods … Now therefore hearken unto their voice: howbeit yet … shew them the manner of the king that shall reign over them.”

And Samuel told all the words of the LORD unto the people that asked of him a king. And he said, “This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you: … ye shall be his servants. And ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which ye shall have chosen you; and the LORD will not hear you in that day.”

Nevertheless the people refused to obey the voice of Samuel; and they said, “Nay; but we will have a king over us; that we also may be like all the nations …”

And the LORD said to Samuel, “Hearken unto their voice, and make them a king.”
—I Samuel 8:1, 3-11a, 17b-19, 22a (emphases mine)

Footnotes

1It wasn’t a Roman holiday, sure. But in fairness, that wouldn’t be filmed for about 1,920 more years anyway.
2Literally unwashed, in the case of the Cynics. Though the meaning of the word has evolved a great deal, Cynicism was a school of philosophy in the Hellenistic era (generally dated from 323 to 31 BCE). Cynic philosophers more or less rejected all conveniences and conventions of civilization, and this rejection earned them their name: κυνικός [künikos], “dog-like” in Greek.
The Neopythagoreans were a revival of the Pythagoreans. They believed in mystical properties inhering in numbers (including the applicability of mathematics to all other problems) and in metempsychosis (i.e. reincarnation). They also practiced gender egalitarianism and vegetarianism. The original Pythagorean school appears to have died out in the later half of the fourth century BCE; the Neopythagorean revival began in the first century BCE, with eclectic influences from Platonic and Aristotelian sources.
Finally, while the worship of the Egyptian goddess Isis was by now many centuries old, there was a pan-Mediterranean flowering of her cultus in the Hellenistic period. Partly by absorbing traits from other Egyptian deities (notably Hathor and Heka), partly by identification with foreign goddesses like Venus and Persephone, Isis became a foundress of civilization, a universal mother-goddess, and even a mistress of fate, traditionally held to govern the gods themselves. Mystery rites (i.e., religious rites open only to initiates of the cultus) in Isis’ honor—probably modeled on the Eleusinian Mysteries—were apparently being practiced by the mid-second century CE: they are described in that period by Lucius Apuleius in his novel, Asinus Aureus (“The Golden Ass”), which is about the adventures of a man magically transformed into a donkey; in the end, he is restored to human form by the intervention of Isis, and becomes an initiate and priest of her mysteries in gratitude.
3An obol (Gr. ὀβολός [obolos]) was one-sixth of a Greek drachma, which was effectively equivalent to a Roman dēnārius. Accordingly, an obol would be vaguely equivalent to something like five bucks today.
4This was his name due to his adoption by Augustus, who was himself legally named “Julius Cæsar” after adoption by his great-uncle (who is not known as “Julius Cæsar classic,” even though he should be). Romans took adoption pretty seriously, and it was normal to use one’s new, adoptive name rather than one’s birth name from that time forward: Augustus himself merely appended Octavianus, a modified form of his birth name Octavius, onto the end of his adoptive name, as a distinguishing agnōmen. Tiberius had originally been named for his biological father, Tiberius Claudius Nero.
5Some readers will object that the cleansing of the Temple was violent. I don’t care for this use of the word violent. I’ve always considered it transparently preposterous to use the same term for upsetting, or even damaging, property as is used for doing bodily harm to a human being; in almost all cases (certainly in that one), it seems frivolous to me even to raise the comparison.
6Well. For a certain value of “pious,” anyway.
7“The Tyrrhenian Islands” is my collective shorthand for Corsica, Sardinia, and Sicily.
8If you’re wondering what the expression “Former Prophets” means, the short version is, it means the books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings. For more context, see this post, and the rest of the series it introduces.

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Who rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem after the exile?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Zerubbabel Nehemiah Joshua Ezra