Books
Pontius Pilate of history less intriguing than the myth
PONTIUS PILATE IN
HISTORY AND INTERPRETATION By Helen K. Bond Cambridge University
Press, 250 pages, $59.95 |
By PAMELA SCHAEFFER
To avoid moral and ethical responsibility.
To excuse oneself by shifting blame.
To wash ones hands of guilt.
Such are the motivations historically linked to Pontius Pilate,
the Roman governor whose public hand-washing in Matthew 27:24 has become a
metaphor for cowardly avoidance.
I am innocent of this mans blood, Pilate
declared according to Matthew, indicating that he was only carrying out the
will of the crowd in executing Jesus.
Given that the quest for the historical Jesus has occupied
scholars for much of this century, it is only fitting that Pilate be subjected
to similar scrutiny. The goal of the sometimes controversial Jesus quest, as
anyone faintly familiar with contemporary biblical scholarship knows, is to
separate what is historically accurate in the New Testament from
interpreters distortions -- most notably those of the gospel writers with
their various agendas.
In a rare English-language work, a scholar has produced a
full-length historical treatment of Pilate, looking at his portrayal by six
men: the Jewish writers Philo and Josephus and the authors of the four
gospels.
The book, Pontius Pilate in History and Interpretation, by
Helen K. Bond, was published by Cambridge University Press as one in a series
of monographs sponsored by the Society of New Testament Studies.
Pilate served as Judeas Roman governor, from 26 to 37, when
Judea belonged to the Roman province of Syria. Pilates job depended on
his keeping peace among sometimes fractious factions in his province.
The search for the real Pilate moves beyond those bare
facts as authors portray him through their various lenses.
A common -- and overly simplistic -- assumption, Bond writes, is
that all four gospels show Pilate as weak and vacillating.
Bond sees it differently. She sees in Marks Pilate, for
instance, a shrewd, manipulative politician who saw beyond the concerns of the
Jewish high priests. They saw Jesus as a threat to their religious authority;
Pilate saw him as a potential threat to civil order. But to get Jesus out of
the way, Pilate needed the support of the crowd. So he referred to Jesus as
king of the Jews.
The people got the implied message: If they supported a
king to whom Jews had no right, they would be in a dangerous
position, perceived as opposing the political authority of Rome.
Bond assumes that Mark wrote for Christians in Rome after
Neros persecutions in 64. Wary of Roman authority, they would have
scoffed at a portrayal of a Roman governor as weak. Further, his portrayal of a
Jesus who suffered at manipulative Roman hands would have strengthened them in
the face of their own political persecutions, according to Bond.
In Matthews account, Pilate regards Jesus as innocent but
washes his hands of the affair, letting the Jewish people take responsibility.
This suits Matthews literary concern. Writing after the fall of Jerusalem
in 70, his anti-Jewish tone reflects the breakdown in relations between his
audience, Christians of Jewish ancestry and the Jewish synagogue leaders.
Luke, writing later, is concerned about creating a favorable
environment for Christians in Rome.
In the passion story, Pilate gets off easy. Finding no
case against Jesus, he is strongly inclined to let Jesus go with a
flogging but buckles under pressure, allowing a Jewish mob to trump Roman
justice.
John presents Pilate as a manipulative, mocking leader who, once
persuaded by the crowd that Jesus is a political threat, decides to put him to
death, but only after the people renounce their messianic hopes and
unconditionally champion Caesars authority. But as John weaves his
theology into the story, he pits Jesus against all earthly rule, so that in the
end, it is really the Jews and Pilate who are judged.
It has become axiomatic among contemporary historians that history
is always written with an agenda. Philo and Josephus were no exception,
according to Bond.
Philo, whose account of the crucifixion of Jesus was, of the six
accounts, written closest to its occurrence, was in the best position to gather
firsthand facts. But Bond cautions that Philos pro-Jewish agenda has to
be kept in mind when he presents Pilate as spiteful, angry, lacking in
courage, inflexible, stubborn and cruel and given to savagery. Philo
tends to black-brush Romans who lack respect for Jews.
By contrast, for reasons of his own, the Jewish historian Josephus
portrays Pilate as a relatively able governor with a commendable distaste for
excessive bloodshed, though insensitive toward Jewish religious concerns.
Josephus message to Jews is that its futile to defy Roman rule.
Like the role of Jesus in the minds and hearts of believers, the
role of Pilate in literary history surpasses elusive historical fact. Bond
points out that in the former Soviet Union, Pilate served in literary works
during the Stalinist era as a metaphor for avoiding responsibility. Over the
centuries, Pilate has become an archetype of human tendencies to manipulate,
scapegoat and evade.
As in gospel times, the mythical Pilate -- the Pilate who reflects
tendencies we see all around us, as well as within -- may inspire more interest
than any catalog of historical facts.
Whoever he was, whatever his true motivations, Pilate, through his
chance encounter with Jesus of Nazareth, is assured an enduring place in
Western consciousness.
Pamela Schaeffer is NCRs special projects editor.
National Catholic Reporter, April 2,
1999
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