We Are Pilate.

When we read the Bible we like to see ourselves as the heroes, the protagonists, the good guys.  We identify with the Israelites marching out of Egypt, and with the intrepid band who followed Jesus, (often ignoring or downplaying the weaknesses and failures of each).

It rarely occurs to us that the people depicted in the Bible are in many ways nothing like us.  And the ones who are like us are not necessarily the ones we want to be associated with.  

Take Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea who oversaw Jesus’ execution.  He was a representative of the prevailing and dominant political regime.  He wielded the power of the most effective military in the world.  He was well-funded by the dominant world economy.  He managed the police as a conservative advocate of law-and-order.  He and his class and superiors lived off the labor of local workers, extracting the “resources” from the land and sea. 

Should we not recognize ourselves in him?  Isn’t he kind of familiar to us, with:

 

— His managing a corrupt and unjust legal system.  

— His cynical political machinations.  

— His willingness to condemn the innocent for the sake of “stability.”  

— His strength masquerading as weakness, like when he says he washes his hands of responsibility for Jesus, and tells them to take him and crucify him themselves.  

— His need to stay accepted by the people.  

— His replacement of the truth with expediency.  

— His delusion that he is a force for good in the world.

He might as well be a Presbyterian.  I have been at too many session, presbytery, and General Assembly meetings, and had countless conversations with church members, that involved exactly these kinds of considerations.         

What if,

whenever we say in the Creed that 

Christ “suffered under Pontius Pilate,” 

we are unconsciously confessing that he suffered, 

and still suffers, 

under us?  

— Don’t we daily demonstrate that preserving capitalism and nationalism is far more important than following him?  

— Don’t we adjust “truth” to be whatever serves our psychological or political agenda?  

— Don’t we also daily participate in the oppression and murder of poor people of color like him, even if reflexively or unconsciously?  

— Don’t we still insist on displaying exclusive national idols in our worship spaces?  

— Haven’t we bound our church to a regime based on slavery from the beginning, and continue to defend it and attack those who try to tell the truth about it?  

— Don’t we call Jesus “king,” while, in effect, crucifying him by our loyalty to other considerations?

— Don’t we invariably back down when the trump card is played and someone reminds us that “we have no king but Caesar,” because that is the only truth that matters to us?  

Clearly, Jesus may be our personal hobby; but there is no doubt that Caesar is our king.  I mean look at the evidence.  Look at where we put our money.  Look at how we vote.  Look at what we share on Facebook.  

Jesus has harsh words for hypocrites.  What else should we call what we do when we pretend to be the Biblical good guys, but by any measurement we have more in common with Pilate and Pharaoh than with Jesus and Moses?  

Maybe this in part explains the decline of the main-line church over the last half-century.  It’s like when Gandhi said he loved Jesus, but it was Jesus’ followers he had a problem with.  Who can’t relate to that?  

At least Pilate had some integrity.  He knew who he worked for.  He knew who signed his paycheck.  He knew who he followed.  Do we? 

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