The Nicene and Apostles Creeds we recite as professions of faith mention only two people outside of the Blessed Trinity: the Virgin Mary and Pontius Pilate. Now, of all the people that could have been included in the creed, great saints like St. Joseph, or Peter and Paul, or Mary Magdalene, why mention the rather minor character who is not a saint—Pontius Pilate?
Well, it would appear that the Apostles and later bishops who compiled the creeds wanted us to understand that the gospels were not made-up stories, but real historical events. And so, they included a person, Pontius Pilate, a mid-level official in the Roman government whose identity could easily be verified.
Pilate was appointed the Roman prefect of Judea, in the south of Israel, in 26 AD. A prefect was like a chief financial officer with a small army. Judea was not a post that Roman officials would have fought over, for the Jews were quite ungovernable and were always making trouble. So, when Pilate arrived, he made trouble back. Herod Agrippa, who is mentioned in the 12th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, described Pilate as “violent, extortionate, coercive and tyrannical” (Philo). Pilate had no love for the revolutionary-minded Jews he came to rule. And he wasted no time in showing his utter contempt for the Jews, even going so far as to provoke them.
It all kind of made sense. The Jews and Pilate deserved each other. The Jews were the reason Pilate came to rule over them in the first place. Two Jewish delegations had gone to Rome requesting that the Romans take over all of Palestine: Galilee in the north, where Christ lived, and Judea in the south. The Jews wanted a regime change because their own Jewish leaders, the sons of Herod the Great, were high-level crooks and high-level embarrassments to the Jewish nation.
One petition to get rid of the Herods was signed by 8,000 Jewish residents of Rome. There were many Jews in Rome at this time, and they had prospered there. But the Jewish Encyclopedia states that in the year 19 AD (when Christ was around 19 years old), “The Jews were expelled from Rome because a Roman lady who inclined toward Judaism had been deceived by Jewish swindlers. The synagogues were closed, the vessels burned, and 4,000 Jewish youths were sent upon military service to Sardinia.” (That was no little thing as Jews were exempt from military service in the Roman Empire.)
It was during this time of increased Roman hostility to the Jewish nation that Pontius Pilate was sent to Judea, an unenviable assignment on the far eastern outskirts of the Empire. Pilate ruled in Judea for ten years, until 36 AD, when after yet another particularly violent episode involving the Jews, he was called back to Rome, where he was fired.
What happened to Pontius Pilate afterwards? We don’t know. Some say he committed suicide. Some churches venerated him at one time. How could that be? Well, it appears Pilate had a good wife, whose name has come down to us as Claudia. Romans sent on faraway assignments normally did not bring their wives. Pilate did. And according to the gospels, Claudia warned her husband to have nothing to do with “the innocent man” from Galilee. Perhaps over time, and with much prayer Claudia even got her “coercive and tyrannical” husband to repent and even convert. Stranger things have happened.
Repentance is the subject of last Sunday’s gospel passage. When the Jews reminded Christ how Pilate killed some of his fellow Galileans (and then defiled the temple by mixing their blood with the sacrificial animals’ blood), Christ had to explain that bad things do not only happen to bad people. But Christ was very clear about one thing: If you do not repent, bad things will happen to you.
Let’s understand: People who are in hell are not there because of any sins they committed. No, they are in hell because they refused to repent. Some of the worst sinners who ever lived made it to heaven because they did repent.
True repentance means “to turn,” as to turn away from a false road and get on the right road. That takes action and discipline. It also takes the right frame of mind. The psalm states, “The Lord is kind and merciful . . . to those who fear Him.” What does that mean exactly? The Psalm states: “Come, my children, listen to me, I shall teach you the fear of the Lord.” St. Hilary of Poitiers wrote: “The fear of the Lord has then to be learned because it can be taught.”
God in the burning bush told Moses to keep his distance and take his shoes off because he was standing on sacred ground. God was teaching Moses to fear the Lord. If Moses hadn’t feared the Lord, he would have ended up fearing Pharaoh. And the Jews would have ended up remaining as slaves in Egypt making bricks without any straw.
Another word for fear of the Lord is humility, which means understanding your sinful nature and realizing that you need saving from that nature.
Bishop Sheen wrote that “Christ didn’t come into the world to write a new code of morals. He came to do something for sinners.” But here’s the thing; if you do not think you are a sinner, there is not much Christ can do for you.
The blind who refused to admit the existence of light could never be healed . . . The deaf who deny they are deaf will never hear. The sinners who deny there is sin, deny therefore the remedy for sin, and thus cut themselves off from Him who came to redeem.
The remedy for sin was not a code of morals, but a death on a cross. It’s interesting what the Creed says about Christ’s life. It says He was conceived, born, and crucified . . . by Pontius Pilate. Isn’t that interesting? They skip over all the teachings and miracles, and only mention His death, because Christ came to die. In fact, nearly one-sixth of Matthew, Mark, and Luke are devoted to Christ’s death. Nearly one-third of John is devoted to the all-important subject.
A priest wrote:
From start to finish, everything they wrote converges on that mysterious death. At the outset, each evangelist sounds a note of imminent conflict, of coming tragedy. Matthew shows the political power bent on destroying Jesus. Mark describes the religious representatives of the people jealously watching Jesus. Luke relates His birth and immediately indicates how He will be a sign of contradiction for many, while a sword of sorrow will pierce His mother’s heart. John’s outlook is more cosmic as he sees in Christ’s entrance into the world a definitive battle looming between light and darkness. (Gerard Rooney, CP)
And so, here we are, minor characters in a gospel narrative, “gospel” of course meaning “good news.” And it is good news, because Christ has come to do something for us. He has come to die.
He comes to die for us at Holy Mass, a real historical event that mysteriously takes place outside of time because there is no time with God. As God told Moses: “This is my name forever; thus am I to be remembered through all generations.”
At Mass the definitive battle between light and darkness takes place. Do not then be deaf to Christ’s command for you. At Mass listen to Him say:
Repent. Turn back to me. And then follow me. Follow me up to Calvary where I will do something for you. Hang high with me, and then I will mingle your blood with the Blood of my sacrifice. That will make it an acceptable offering to my Father in heaven. And when your definitive battle on earth ends, I will take you to my Father.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
