Matt. 27:19
1909 263 This is a unique incident in the Gospels, peculiar to St. Matthew; yet, however slight it may seem, we may be sure there was a divine reason for its insertion in an inspired writing, where nothing is casual. Seemingly the verse containing it might be removed without affecting the sense or the sequence of the passage. The contrast between Pilate's better spirit and the envenomed malice of, the chief priests would be equally vivid. But the statement anent Pilate's wife clearly shows that he was somewhat at least influenced by her. It is well known that such influence was often exerted by women, and naturally exercised as a rule on the side of mercy. Indeed, the Romans on this very account objected to provincial governors taking their wives with them, lest they should be deflected from the line of rigid justice. And we know how severe the Romans were, though there was much that was excellent in their discipline. Every student of Roman history is aware how conspicuously the manlier virtues stand out in the records of her chroniclers.
But, with dominion, luxury and scepticism had increased, and there was a condition of over-elaborated culture that is only too closely parallelled by not a little that we see around us now. It is always so in the history of nations: first, power; then, wealth and luxury; then, degeneracy. And of such overripe, exotic culture Pilate was probably a crucial type. His very question, "What is truth?" addressed to our Lord, indicated the languid cynicism with which he regarded the matter. For undoubtedly the interpretation placed on the question by Lord Bacon, usually so sage and shrewd, is quite wide of the mark. That great philosopher says in one of his famous essays: "What is truth, said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer." But Pilate was not jesting at all; his question was simply the outcome of his despairing pessimism. Alas! he knew not that Truth embodied in a Person, in the Son of man, stood before him. But of this presently. Meanwhile, it is easy to realise how in his wavering mind the admonition of his wife must have reinforced the arguments suggested by his intellectual keenness, and perhaps some vestiges of compassion.
But to return to Claudia Procula, the name (according to tradition) of the lady whose disturbed dream is recorded by the Evangelist. And, first of all, may we not surmise, for the reason stated above, viz., that nothing is casual or insignificant in scripture, that it was not merely superstitious feeling that prompted her action; that her heart, nay, perhaps her conscience in some measure had been reached in God's mysterious providence, and that, if not then, yet in the sequel she may really have bowed to Him who is the Truth, as He is the Way and the Life — the only Saviour? Of course, it would be unwise to dogmatise; the evidence is not forthcoming, and speculation, unsatisfactory at all times, is nowhere more so than when indulged in the things of God. We simply do not know; we can only recognise the numerous ways that the Spirit of God has of dealing with men and women, and that dreams at times have played a not unimportant part in spiritual experiences. But it is far from unlikely that Claudia may have seen our Lord. What more probable than that, on one or more of her comings and goings to and from her husband's palace, she may have come across Him during His visits to Jerusalem, or even elsewhere? There may have been a great concourse, as on the day when the Lord repaired to the house of Jairus, and when He healed the woman with the issue of blood. We know how dense the throng was on that occasion, and on some similar one the litter, borne by numerous slaves, of the highly-placed Roman lady may have been, in modern parlance, "held up." Then she may have beheld that gracious Presence, and God may have first led her to see something awe-inspiring as well as holy in "that just man.", Either this, or it was revealed to her in the dream itself that He was something far above the common run of men. All this may have been. Now let us turn to the application.
I suppose this verse is not very frequently selected as a text. In the course of a fairly long life I have heard hundreds of sermons (some of the best by lips never more to be heard on earth), but never from Matt. 27:19: "Have thou nothing to do with that just man." Nay, but with Him we must all have to do. Claudia Procula, and her husband the Roman Governor, and all mankind — as Saviour or as Judge. Of course, we know what she meant. She did not wish Pilate to take upon himself the responsibility of condemning an innocent man. Somehow she know He was innocent; nay, just, for she does not use a merely negative term. Truly, if she knew little, and was still far from the kingdom of God, the Governor was much farther off. He certainly thought the lowly prisoner at the bar at whose claims to kingship he had half-contemptuously, half-pityingly marvelled, had to do with him, Pontius Pilate, the representative of the mighty Empire of Rome. "Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee" (John 19:10). We all know with what divine dignity and calm the blessed Lord replied. No wonder the Governor was more and more perplexed. Yes, all of us must have to do with "that just man." Blessed are they who have to do with Him now, who bow to Him now, and prove the value of His precious blood that cleanseth from every sin. Is it not striking how unconsciously Pilate's wife deprecates what is imperative for all of us, if we would be saved? Of course, she was right from her limited point of view. But, how terrible to have no link with Him This poor woman little knew how far it was from being merely a question of common rectitude in a ruler; little knew that the terrible thing would be, if Christ let her alone! if God said, as once of old, "Ephraim is joined unto idols; let him alone." Nay, that were the most dreadful thing of all — to be let alone now, to be judged in a future day! For "all things are naked and opened before the eyes of Him with whom we have to do" (Heb. 4:13). Let us have to do with Him now.
Pilate's indecision brought, it would seem, additional suffering on our Lord. Avowing that he found no evil in Him, yet he had Him scourged, and what he proposed as an alternative to the crucifixion was really an aggravation of the Saviour's bitter pains. For after all, and against his better judgment, the Governor, spite of his wife's remonstrances, was craven enough to yield to the wicked importunity of the Sanhedrin. He had, we know, very cogent reasons for giving way to the Jews, inasmuch as he was in very bad odour in Palestine because of his misdeeds. He was therefore, as St. Mark tells us (Mark 15:15), "willing to content the people." He did not doubt for a moment that his prisoner had to do with him as duly appointed judge. Poor, unhappy Pilate! His was a sad record, and tradition has it that he committed suicide in Gaul. Legend also became busy with his history in connection with Mount Pilatus, in Switzerland. A small thing for him that his name is immortal with unenviable notoriety by reason of his association with that very One whom he doubtless regarded as merely a Galilean peasant. Yet but for this connection with the Saviour of mankind he would probably have been no more famous than any other governor of an (in Roman eyes) unimportant province. It is singular to think how his name is daily heard in the creeds of Christendom. Alas! no mere outward link avails. The Roman Governor was confident that our Lord had to do with him; he did not know that he and all mankind have to do with Christ. And so he gave orders that it should be as the chief priests required. And in the energetic and most pathetic language of St. Luke 23:25, "He released unto them him that for sedition and murder was cast into prison, whom they had desired; but he delivered Jesus to their will." For, as we read, they asked for Barabbas, whose name, by a singular coincidence, means "son of the father." The true Son of the Father was crucified.
But to return to Pilate's demand, "What is truth?" This is a question that is asked now-a-days often enough, sometimes half languidly, or half cynically, as Pilate asked it. Others say we must ever pursue after it, but never imagine we have got it. And if by truth people mean mere knowledge, they are undoubtedly quite right. For is not science ever having to revise her judgments? A notable instance of this occurred only recently, when the discovery of radium and radio-activity threw much suspicion on the soundness of a long-established chemical axiom, viz., that each element is essentially differentiated from every other. Yet long ago Sir William Hamilton, a noted Scottish philosopher, declared that of things in themselves we could know nothing. Even so; and that spite of the marvellous and, in themselves, most admirable discoveries of science. But "the truth, where is that?" Only in Christ, even as grace and truth come by Him. "God," scripture declares, "is light," and "God is love." Love and Light revealed to guilty sinners take the shape of grace and truth.
And as our Lord reveals, nay, is "the truth" (i.e., He reveals God to me, shows me what I am, and what God is; also shows the remedy for me, else it were sad indeed), what is revealed is fact. Christianity rests on the bedrock of fact. The well-known creeds of Christendom were attempts to embody these facts, at least the main ones, in succinct language; and with all their defects, they have doubtless been a help to very many. It need hardly be said that no formal recitation of a creed, however correct, can save the soul. Moreover, they are not inspired; the scriptures are, and we must ever refer all to the "word and the testimony." Probably in the past, when few comparatively could read, the salient facts of Christianity were by such means conveniently committed to memory. And Christianity is either fact or fiction. We cannot have it both ways, as so many, alas! in a vague and indifferent fashion, are content to do. The resurrection, in short, may not be spiritualised. As one has said, "unless we believe as literally in the resurrection of Christ as in His death and burial, we are not Christians at all." Thus wrote many years ago the late Bishop of Durham. But the majority of the readers of this magazine will rightly regard this most important statement as too obvious to need emphasising. Christianity requires no vehement protestations in defence of its supernatural origin. "He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself" (1 John 5:10). And may we not say, in conclusion, that all who believe thank God for opening their eyes, thank Him that they have had to do with His Son in this day of His grace? R.B.