Matthew 27:11-26

CRITICAL NOTES

Matthew 27:11. Tie governor asked him.—Pilate, true to the Roman sense of justice, refused merely to confirm the sentence of the Sanhedrin (Carr).

Matthew 27:16. Barabbas.—“Son of Abba,” i.e. Son of Father (so-and-so). The name would originally be given to one who was the son of some Rabbi who had been known in his locality as Father (so-and-so). Not unlikely Barabbas would thus be a person of respectable parentage, though for long he had gravitated toward the lowest stratum of society (Morison).

Matthew 27:19. When he was set down.—While he was sitting (R.V.). His wife.—Claudia Procula or Procla. Traditions state that she was a proselyte of the gate, which is by no means unlikely, as many of the Jewish proselytes were women. By an imperial regulation provincial governors had been prohibited from taking their wives with them. But the rule gradually fell into disuse, and an attempt made in the Senate (A.D. 21) to revive it completely failed (Carr).

Matthew 27:21. They said, Barabbas.—Pilate’s expedient to avoid the necessity of pronouncing sentence is here set forth at length, probably because it brings into strong relief the absolute rejection of their Messiah alike by the rulers and by the people (Gibson).

Matthew 27:24. Washed his hands.—See Deuteronomy 21:6. Cf. Psalms 26:6. See ye to it.—“Ye shall see to it; I presume that ye take to yourselves the whole responsibility of the deed” (Morison).

MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Matthew 27:11

The homage of power.—Jesus is now standing before the Roman governor (Matthew 27:11); in the presence, therefore, of the representative of the then highest power upon earth. To what conclusion does this Imperial delegate come about Him? And how far does he give evidence of the nature of his thoughts? A threefold answer seems discoverable in the passage before us. Notwithstanding the many accusations (Matthew 27:12) to which he is listening, we find Pilate first suspecting, then convinced of, and finally proclaiming, the complete innocency of the Accused.

I. Suspecting the truth.—First, we may believe that the appearance of the Saviour Himself had not a little effect in this way. One of the accusations brought against the Saviour—even a leading one, it would seem (Luke 23:2; John 19:12; John 19:15)—was that of (constructively) impairing the supreme authority of “Cæsar.” No Roman governor could think lightly of such an accusation. No Roman emperor made more of it than the Roman emperor of that day. Many men of the highest rank were being put to death by him yearly on the mere suspicion of such a charge (see Tacitus). Naturally, therefore, when Pilate heard of it here, he would look with special closeness of attention on the Man charged with such guilt, and would expect to find something at least in Him to correspond with so very lofty an aim. There should be something Cæsar-like—palpably—in any one who thought, however distantly, of being in rivalry with him. It would appear from the story, however, that Pilate found nothing like it in the appearance of Christ; no marks of pride; no sign of ambition; nothing, in fact, to betoken a desire to be great upon earth, in the heavenly meekness of that sorrow-lined face. Hence the peculiar and marked emphasis of the question he asks (Matthew 27:11), “Art Thou”—Thou, being such as Thou art—“the King of the Jews?” As much as to say, “Never yet did I see any one with less of earthly royalty in his look.” The Saviour’s demeanour, in the next place, seems to have confirmed this idea. How utterly unmoved He stands by the accusations He hears! How many these are! How silent Himself! Does He hear them, in fact (Matthew 27:13)? And, if so, why is it that He takes no notice of them whatever? This does not look like guilt, or a fear of the consequences, or an anxiety to escape them (see John 19:10). At any rate, it is clear evidence that there is something strange indeed in this case (Matthew 27:14). Lastly, we may well believe that there was something in the demeanour of the Saviour’s accusers which added strength to this thought. Their accusations were such as could easily be accounted for without supposing them to be valid. There was that about their reproaches which showed how highly they valued the praises of men (cf. Matthew 23:5; Luke 20:45), as also how greatly this meek Jesus of Nazareth had interfered with them in this matter. Pilate saw in this, therefore, what was the real root of all their clamour and hate (Matthew 27:18; Mark 15:10), and so was struck, most probably, rather by the weakness than by the strength of their case. “Is this the worst that even such consummate ‘envy’ can lay to His charge? If so, there cannot be much in Him that is worthy of death!”

II. Ascertaining the truth.—Two things especially seem to have brought this about. One was connected with a remarkable message which came to him at that time. During the previous night, or early that morning, his wife had dreamed about Christ. The details are not told us, but its effects speak for themselves. She has been so scared thereby that she sends her husband word of it, even while seated in court, and earnestly entreats him, in consequence, to beware how he allows himself to deal with Jesus as other than “just” (Matthew 27:19). A somewhat similar warning, in consequence of a dream, is said to have been sent to Julius Cæsar by his wife on the morning of his death. If Pilate was such a believer in dreams and omens as most Romans were in his day, the recollection of that dream would make this one seem to him a message from Heaven itself, and so would help to make him believe that what he had suspected before was nothing indeed but the truth. Another thing telling on him in the same direction was the behaviour of the “multitude” which, by this time, had collected together. Some time previously he had thought that he saw in their presence and apparent disposition a way of settling this case. With this idea he would take advantage of a custom they observed at that “feast” (Matthew 27:15). He would give them the choice, in accordance with that custom, between this Man who seemed to be in favour with them (though not with the priests) and another man who was then in prison and notorious for his crimes (Matthew 27:16; John 18:40). The result turned out exactly contrary to what he had expected and hoped. “Persuaded” by the “priests” (Matthew 27:20), the “multitude” asked the release, not of Jesus, but of the other. Not only so, the more he pleads with them in opposition to this the worse they become. They ask now, not only that Jesus should not be released, but that He should die the death of the cross. And they ask it the more, the more he challenges them to give a reason for so doing. And this, in fact, is, so far, the end. He asks them to say, and they cannot say, “what evil” Jesus “hath done.”

III. Proclaiming the truth.—Finding that all appeal is in vain, hearing nothing further in the way of testimony or evidence, and fearing that the only result of further effort to deliver Him would be a “tumult” for which he would have to answer at Rome, Pilate contents himself with openly declaring his own thoughts about Christ. This he does, first, in the most deliberate way—“taking water,” and having it brought to him (as we may infer) for this end. Next, in a most public way, “before the multitude”—in their sight. Further, in the most significant way, viz., by using the water brought him for washing his hands. Once more, in the most explicit way, by explaining verbally what he meant by that sign (Matthew 27:24). And, lastly, in a way which the answer of the multitude (Matthew 27:25) showed that they perfectly understood. Miserable, in short, as the effort was in the way of exonerating himself, it was trumpet-tongued and beyond capability of mistake in proclaiming the innocence of the Saviour!

This “proclamation” was specially important:—

1. Because of the character of the man.—As we learn from Luke 13:1 and other sources, he was by no means unwilling to be a shedder of blood. Few Roman governors were. Pilate, probably, as little unwilling as any. How striking, therefore, in this case, to see him fighting against it so long, and doing all that he thought he could do, in order to avoid it! There must have been something in his eyes peculiarly dazzling in the lustrous innocence of this Jesus. He was prepared for anything, short of losing his life, rather than treat it as guilt.

2. Because of the nationality and rank of the man.—This Pilate was not only a Gentile, he was a representative Gentile as well. He spoke for Cæsar, who spoke in turn for the world. The whole, in short, of the world’s non-Judaic faith may be said to have culminated then in Tiberius. This fact, therefore, gives to the proclamation in question a kind of “œcumenical” ring; the heathen world, as it were, following up the Jewish world in virtual vindication of Christ.

3. Because of the exceedingly critical character of the juncture.—This final vindication is uttered at the very moment of finally consigning Christ to the cross. Also by the very same lips. The very same power which says He is to die also says He ought not; and that in the very same breath. Thus at once acquitting Him and condemning itself. Thus at once, also, treating Him as guilty and pronouncing Him guiltless—the very marrow of the gospel of Christ!

HOMILIES ON THE VERSES

Matthew 27:12. The silence of Jesus at the bar of Pilate.—The predictions which we find in the Old Testament in relation to the Messiah seem to have been all fulfilled; and it is not easy to bring them and the life of Jesus Christ into juxtaposition, and resist the conclusion that He was the promised Saviour. It was predicted that toward the close of His beneficent career, He would not so much as open His mouth in certain circumstances, and this prediction, like all the rest, was literally verified. Before the Sanhedrin, before Herod, before Pilate, He “retired into the great empire of silence.” Before Pilate He was not absolutely silent. He appears to have replied to most of Pilate’s queries, and to have given him, in the capacity of judge, all the information that was really necessary to a right decision in the case; and the fact that He spoke when He conceived that there was occasion shows that His silence was not exactly premeditated. There was no obstinacy about it. In prospect of the trial He did not rashly or cunningly resolve that He would not in any way commit Himself by speaking. His silence was spontaneous, natural, and on that account all the more impressive and suggestive. In seeking to account for it, we would observe:—

I. That at those times when He became silent it was not necessary to speak.—After Pilate had heard all that the chief priests and elders had to say against Him, he felt constrained to acknowledge that they had not made good a solitary charge. He, as judge, declared that in his opinion there was no fault in Him, and with this view Herod coincided. Had they substantiated their charges, Jesus might have spoken. Since no tangible proof of political guilt was adduced, He stood before Pilate with sealed lips; and His silence was more condemnatory of His accusers than a score of speeches would have been. It frequently happens that silence is the best answer that can be given.

II. That it would have served no practical purpose for Christ to have spoken.—Suppose that Jesus had with the breath of His mouth blown away the accusations brought against Him by His enemies, as smoke is driven away by the wind, would Pilate have acquitted Him and not have delivered Him to the Jews? No. He had not the courage to set Jesus at liberty, and dare the Jews to lay a finger on Him. His silence did not make against Him, and He was certain that it would not. It may be asked, Was speech not needed for His vindication in the eyes of posterity? No. His silence notwithstanding, posterity has decided that Jesus was all that He professed to be; and this will become more and more its belief.

III. That Jesus came into the world expressly to die.—In the light of this fact, what is there in the silence of Christ to perplex us? Nothing whatever.

Lessons.—

1. There was not in Jesus a morbid love of life.
2. The innocence of Christ.
3. In Jesus there was any amount of self-control.—G. Cron.

Matthew 27:19. The dream of Pilate’s wife.—We inquire reverentially:—

I. Why the dream in question was sent.—Among all the absurdities that have been uttered and believed about dreams, the following things seem quite clear, viz., that we cannot order our own dreams; that no other men can order them for us; that God sometimes does (or has, at the least); that no other beings ever have, that we know of, except Him; and, consequently, that however uninterpretable and unimportant such things in general are, those which have a special significance and bearing may be reasonably traced to God’s hands. In the case of this dream, moreover, the fact of its relation by the Evangelist is an additional argument on this side. And if so, then the dream, in reality, was:

1. A Divine preaching of Christ to the mind of the sleeper. It had the effect of concentrating her waking attention, not only on Christ in His innocence, but on Christ in His death—that same marvellous combination which seems to have converted the penitent thief. Had she, therefore, thought of these things as he did; had she followed up these first truths, as she ought; had she inquired, and so heard of the wonders accompanying His crucifixion, and of the truth and glory of His resurrection; who can exaggerate the result? Her dream placed the key of heaven in her hands; something as was done for Cornelius by his own vision and that of Peter, and something as was done for Saul by the vision of Ananias.

2. Another merciful object was to warn another sinner of the extreme peril of his position at that particular time. Pilate, of himself, could know next to nothing of the unparalleled position he stood in. But to warn him of the excessive peril of his position was the purport of the dream and message of his wife. May we not consider that dream, then, a final warning to him to beware? This would be quite in keeping with God’s dealings. Judas had received such a warning from Christ (Matthew 26:24) and had conveyed one to the priests (Matthew 27:5). So did Pilate himself afterwards to the Jews at large (Matthew 27:24). And if so, how affecting an illustration of 1 Timothy 2:4; 2 Peter 3:9, etc.!

II. Why the dream is related.—Partly, it is possible, as an illustration of God’s power, mysteriously controlling even those innermost thoughts which are so uncontrollable by ourselves. Partly, too, by way of illustration of God’s mercy, and as opening out, by the case of Pilate and Pilate’s wife, an almost boundless prospect of the opportunities, strivings, and warnings vouchsafed to our race. But neither of these would appear to be the chief purpose of the history. The prosecution had broken down. In such a case, however, “not proven” is not enough. God would have the innocence of His Son beyond doubt. Two independent, consistent witnesses (as required by the law) “established” this great point—the false disciple and the judge, the unscrupulous and unpopular judge who would lose nothing and gain much (as he judged) by condemning, and the suspicious, yet intimate companion who would certainly have detected evil if there had been any to detect. Thus far the testimony of man. But in a case such as this, virtually tried in the presence of the universe, greater testimony still is required. This we have, therefore, in prophecy, in the subsequent inspired declarations of Apostles, in voices from heaven during life, and now, at last, just previous to death, in this mysterious dream. Thus strikingly, thus almost dramatically, at the very crisis of the Saviour’s fate, is He declared without sin. The whole subject is a signal evidence of the importance attached to the Atonement. The perfect innocence of the Saviour is an essential feature in that doctrine. See how carefully, how profoundly, how anxiously, and so to speak, reconditely, the point is established.—Mathematicus in “Homilist.”

Matthew 27:21. Rejecting Christ.—One evening, at a small literary gathering at which Carlyle was present, a lady, who was somewhat noted for her “muslin theology,” was bewailing the wickedness of the Jews in not receiving Christ, and ended her diatribe against them by expressing her regret that He had not appeared in our own time. “How delighted,” said she, “we should all have been to throw our doors open to Him, and listen to His Divine precepts! Don’t you think so, Mr. Carlyle?” Thus appealed to, Carlyle said, “No, madam, I don’t. I think that, had He come very fashionably dressed, with plenty of money, and preaching doctrines palatable to the higher orders, I might have had the honour of receiving from you a card of invitation, on the back of which would be written, ‘To meet our Saviour’; but if He had come uttering His sublime precepts, and denouncing the Pharisees, and associating with the publicans and lower orders, as He did, you would have treated Him much as the Jews did, and have cried out, ‘Take Him to Newgate, and hang Him!’ ”—Tools for Teachers.

Matthew 27:22. Christ before Pilate—Pilate before Christ.

I. Let us try to account for the hesitation of Pilate to give up the Lord, and then for his final yielding to the clamour of the people.—Wherefore this unwonted squeamishness of conscience? It was the result of a combination of particulars, each of which had a special force of its own, and the aggregate of which so wrought on his mind that he was brought thereby to a stand. There was

1. The peculiar character of the prisoner.
2. The singular message of his wife.
3. The fatality that there seemed about the case. He had tried to roll it over on Herod, but that wily monarch sent the prisoner back upon his hands. The deeper he went into the case he discovered only the more reason for resisting the importunity of the Jews, and however he looked at it, his plain duty was to set the prisoner free. Why, then, again we ask, was his perplexity? The answer is suggested by the taunt of the Jews, “If thou let this man go, thou art not Cæsar’s friend.” He foresaw that if he resisted the will of the rulers, he would make them his enemies, and so provoke them to complain of him to the emperor, who would then institute an inquiry into his administration of his office; and that he was not prepared to face. His past misdeeds had put him virtually into the power of those who were now so eager for the condemnation of the Christ. His guilty conscience made him a coward at the very time when most of all he wanted to be brave.

II. The question of the text is pre-eminently the question of the present age.

III. What is true of the age is true also of every individual to whom the gospel is proclaimed.—W. M. Taylor, D.D.

Christ still on His trial.—Jesus Christ is on His trial again before the research and culture of the nineteenth century. The controversies which once raged round His miracles have now gathered about His Person. For acute thinkers saw it was useless to deny the supernatural, so long as Jesus Christ Himself, the great central miracle in history, passed unchallenged. And now, in this age, thoughtful man must, sooner or later, ask himself the question which Pilate put to the Jews: “What shall I do, then?” etc. And from the motley crowd of Jews and Gentiles, of friends or foes, grouped round that calm, majestic Figure, come the three chief answers that the human heart can give.

I. The answer of rejection.—The fickle crowd cried, “Let Him be crucified.” It was the cry of prejudice, of thoughtlessness, of conscious guilt. That cry finds an echo to-day. It is couched in less offensive language. It is clothed in the garb of poetry and philosophy, of the highest culture; the form is changed, the spirit is unaltered. It is still the answer of rejection.

II. From Pilate comes the answer of indifference.—He represented the Roman society of his age, which had lost faith in religion and morality, and yet was troubled by dreams; which was at once sceptical and superstitious; whose creed had been summed up by one of its own writers in a notable saying: “There is no certainty save that there is nothing certain, and there is nothing more wretched or more proud than man”—a nerveless, hopeless, sorrowful creed, the parent of apathy, cynicism, and unrest. Pilate is a picture of that vain and shallow indifference which is too weak to believe in the truth, and yet too fearful to deny it altogether.

III. The answer of faith.—There were some in that crowd insignificant in number, in wealth, in influence—often, alas! untrue to their own convictions—who could give a very different answer to Pilate’s question. One of them the previous night had acted as the spokesman of his brethren, when he said, “Lord, I will follow Thee to prison and to death.” They were brave words, the language of a faithful and loving heart—forgotten and broken at the first blush of trial, but nobly fulfilled in after years; and they are the answer of faith.—F. J. Chavasse, M.A.

Pilate’s questions.—

I. In this day Jesus is on His trial, and it has reached the phase marked by the text. The question to-day is, “But if we accept this deliverance of science or that dictum of criticism, what shall we do, then, with Jesus which is called Christ? How shall we judge Him?” All great questions pass through, say, four stages, viz., neglect, opposition, attention, decision. The question of the Christ has in these days come to the last stage when it must be decided.

II. Some of the present forms of the phase of the trial of Jesus.—Take two—agnostic secularism and evolution.

III. The gravity of the present phase of the trial of Jesus.—To Pilate’s question the answer came, “Let Him be crucified.” The gravity lies here: the trial of Jesus in this day has developed to this crisis; we must either accept Him as the Christ, or deliver Him to be crucified. No middle course possible.—A. Goodrich, D.D.

Matthew 27:24. Pilate.—The power of conscience in Pilate was strong enough to protest, but it was not strong enough to resist.

I. We are compelled to look into the man himself for the explanation of his conduct.—

1. He had, by his injustice and selfishness in the administration of his province, put himself already at the mercy of the Jews.
2. He had no sure moral standard for the regulation of his conduct.
3. He held low views of responsibility. Was there ever such a display of silliness as this washing of his hands before the people?

II. Practical lessons.—

1. Be on your guard against fettering yourself for the future by the conduct of the present.
2. Remember there is a higher rule of life than mere selfish expediency.
3. Learn that sin is a voluntary thing.
4. Do not forget that it is not the washing of hands in water, but the cleansing efficacy of the blood of Christ alone, that can take away guilt.—W. M. Taylor, D.D.

Pilate disclaiming responsibility.—“See ye to it.” Pilate forgot that in things moral men cannot clear one another by a mere act of will. Still less can they, in their individual actions, be like the rowers in our British waters, who look one way and go another.—J. Morison, D.D.

Sinning in the light of the clearest evidence.—Pilate’s conduct plainly shows that it is possible to sin against the conviction of our own mind. Learn:—

I. That guilt may be contracted through others.—Guilt is none the less our own because somebody else is implicated. This should be borne in mind when positions are offered us respecting which we have conscientious misgivings.

II. That guilt knowingly contracted admits of no honourable excuse.

III. That guilt may be contracted by not preventing evil, as well as by committing it.

IV. That guilt, however contracted, cannot be removed by any mere form or ceremony.—“Pilate washed his hands,” etc. It was customary among the Greeks, Romans, and Hebrews, to wash their hands in token of their innocency from any imputed guilt. But no ceremony can of itself cleanse away our guilt. “The blood of Jesus Christ,” etc.—A. Hilittch.