The Jews objected to enter this fine palace, because as a Gentile residence it was defiled, and therefore defiling, and they wished to be “clean” for the feast they were to eat in the evening.  Pilate humoured them, and had his conferences with them outside the building.  Seeing their object and observing their temper, he must have discovered at once their miserable hypocrisy.  These were the men who affected to be the leaders of the one pure faith on earth, a faith which looked with scorn on the “idolatry” of the cultured Roman.  He must have regarded them with immense contempt.  If his tone is cynical, it is but a match for the unmitigated cynicism of their conduct.

Pilate inquires as to the crime with which the Prisoner is charged.  At first, the Jews do not give an explicit reply, only stating that they have already found Him guilty.  Pilate catches at that.  His weakness, so pitiably apparent throughout the whole proceedings, appears at this early stage.  Desiring to shirk the responsibility of deciding the case—­he would use the first apparent loophole of escape.  Since the Jews have taken this case in hand, let them carry it through, dealing with it according to their law.  They are not to be caught by that flattering suggestion.  They know that they have not the power of life and death.  Pilate would not let them kill Jesus.  His proposal, which on the surface looks like the granting of a privilege, amounts to this, that they may exercise ecclesiastical discipline, excommunicate their Prisoner, or perhaps fling Him into jail, possibly scourge Him.  But the worst of these punishments will not satisfy their determined hatred, or rid them of the haunting fear inspiring it, that Jesus will undermine their influence with the people.  Nothing less than His death will put an end to that danger; so they thought, although the event proved that it was this very death of Christ that was to lead to the victory of Christianity over Judaism.  This, however, even His own disciples could not foresee, much less could it enter into the minds of His enemies among the Jews.

Thwarted in his first attempt to escape, and compelled to try this difficult case, Pilate enters the palace where Jesus is kept under arrest, and questions Him.  He has been informed that Jesus claims to be the king of the Jews.  Is that so?  Is the charge but a piece of malicious slander?  If it is, there is an end of the matter.  Pilate is not going to lend himself to humour the whim of those hateful Jews, whom he affects to despise while in his heart he is mortally afraid of them.  There is nothing of the bearing of the violent insurgent in this calm peasant who stands before him.  Surely this is some stupid mistake, or there is more Jewish malice in it than Pilate can fathom.  But the Roman magistrate soon discovers that he is dealing with no ordinary man.  Jesus takes his measure in a moment.  Pilate is a feeble creature, with no character, insincere,