Meanwhile John’s friendly act has gotten Peter entrance.  The attitude of the two men is in sharpest contrast.  John is avowedly Jesus’ friend, regardless of personal danger.  Peter just the reverse.  And the hate of the leaders has soaked into all their surroundings even down to the housemaids.  And John notes how exactly Jesus foreknew all, even to a thrice-spoken denial before the second crowing of a cock.

Now comes the great Pilate phase.  It was the intense malignity of their hate that made them bother with Pilate.  They could easily have killed Jesus and Pilate would never have concerned himself about it.  But they couldn’t have put Him to such exquisite suffering and such shameful indignity before the crowds as by the Roman form of death by crucifixion.

Clearly there is a hate at work behind theirs.  Their hate is distinctly inhuman.  Is all hate?  There’s an unseen personal power in action here set on spilling out the utmost that malignant hate can upon the person of Jesus.  But these men are cheerful tools.  Hate is tying its hardest knot with ugliest black thread on the end of its opportunity.

This is Pilate’s opportunity and he seems to sense it.  And a struggle begins between conscience and cowardice, between right action with an ugly fight for it, and yielding to wrong with an easy time of it.  Clearly he feels the purity and the personal power of this unusual prisoner.  The motive of envy and hate under their action is as plain to his trained eyes.

Twice the two men, Pilate and Jesus, are alone together.  Did ever man have such an opportunity, personally, and historically?  With rare touch and winsomeness Jesus woos.  And Pilate feels it to the marrow under all his rough speech.  His repeated attempts with the leaders make that clear.  But cowardice gripped him hard.  It’s a way cowardice has.

The name of Caesar conjures up fears,—­loss of position, of wealth, of reputation, maybe of life itself.  He surrenders.  Conscience is slain on the judgment seat.  Cowardice laughs and wins.  A sharp fling brings a cry of allegiance to Caesar from their reluctant throats, as their hatred wins the day.  He strikes them back an ugly blow as He surrenders.  That reluctant Caesar cry told out the intensity of their hate.  They hated Caesar much, but they hated Jesus immeasurably more.  They gulp down Caesar to be able to vent their spleen upon Jesus.

And so they crucified Him.  At last they succeed.  They have gotten what they were bent on.  The hate burning within, these months and years, finds its full vent.  Its hateful worst is done, and horribly well done.  And they stand about the cross with unconcealed gloating in pose and face and speech and eyes.  Their part of the story is done.

Masterful Dying.

But Jesus’ part—­ah! that was just begun.  John lays emphasis on the mastery of Jesus here.  It is marked, and reveals to John’s faithful love-opened eyes the dominating purpose of Jesus in yielding to death.  Strong, thoughtful, self-controlled, anticipating every move, He was using all the strength of His great strong will in yielding.  He was doing it masterfully, intelligently.