There are the great and the famous—and the not
so famous. Often the distance between a name that is known to history and the
figure forgotten is a matter of seconds—or a few votes—or a quirk
of timing. Names like Victoria Woodhull—the first woman to run for President
or consider Clement Ader of France, Richard Pearse of New Zealand and the Bavarian
immigrant Gustav Whitehead who all flew their airplanes before the Wright brothers.
There are so many names we could know so well—but history has forgotten.
It is a curiosity of history that our great long gospel lesson for today contains
within it one name that history really should have forgotten—yet as presented
in Matthew’s version of the passion story he plays a fascinating role.
He was not one of the great governors of Roman history. He was a man more destined
for obscurity and the footnotes of history—except for one event that marked
Pilate’s place in history as no other event could.
Roman historians like Josephus from the first century are pretty negative about Pontius Pilate, in what few references they make to the man who was governor of the third rate province of Judea from 26-37 AD. Christian writers of the New Testament are probably the most positive in their limited descriptions and reports concerning Pilate. Matthew—Our Gospel source for today—had a particularly anti-Jewish prejudice concerning the death of Jesus which makes this gospel even more sympathetic to Pilate. Matthew creates for us a picture of a man who really appears to desire to do the right and correct thing —but he is caught in the flow of emotion and politics that so often determines the course of history. Pilate interviews the arrested Jesus—the mob threatens to riot—Only Matthew gives us one of the most memorable pictures of Pilate—A scene that says something very remarkable about the whole passion story. Only in Matthew’s gospel does Pilate literally wash his hands of the whole incident—Only in Matthew’s gospel does Pilate claim no part in the crucifixion and the people accept their responsibility for Christ’s death. There is something about that picture of Pilate washing his hands—It is symbolic of something more.
The Passover meal celebrated by Jesus began with the washing of hands—the trial concludes with the washing of hands. When I was a child I was not allowed to come to the table with dirty hands—every parent tells their child to wash their hands—But this was more than a learned ritual or a childhood tape being replayed—the trial ends with the washing of hands. The intention of this washing was not to make clean—the water flowed not to cleanse but to establish the blame—to reveal the guilty ones—Pilate was claiming innocence and the people accepted the guilt. There is no question that Pilate wanted to pass the buck—to place responsibility for Christ’s death on others than himself whether it was to avoid a riot or just soothe his conscience or maybe both—And Matthew wants to support that view by providing a conclusive act that frees Pilate once and for all of responsibility for the events that follow—the mockery, scourging and crucifixion. What intrigues me most about Pilate and the washing of his hands is that no one today accepts that action as freeing Pilate of responsibility for Christ’s death—If anything the very act of claiming innocence causes most of us to assume that there is a lot more to Pilate’s role in all this then meets the eye. As the old saying goes, “Me thinks he does protest too much.”
History confirms the judgment. Washing his hands only reminds us of how dirty they must have been. Pilate attempting the impossible—the washing of the unwashable. Pilate’s struggle is not foreign from our own experience of the world—the question of responsibility—the placing of blame. In this litigious age the blame game has become central to news headlines and our daily encounters with those around us. The company collapses and the quest is on for whom to blame and who will pay—while everyone who can, tries to wash their hands of the whole situation. Abuse touches the lives of those who trusted and when the charges are brought the fingers are pointed at many who thought they had washed their hands of the whole matter. Centuries old conflicts continue between peoples and nations each accusing the other while washing their hands of any responsibility for the terror and violence that continues. We look at our hands and they do not appear any where near as dirty as the hands of those making the headline news. We know the meaning of Christ’s teachings to be loving stewards of the world and it’s people. We know the demand Christ makes for us to be less wasteful of resources—less exploitive of other people. We know that Christ calls us to live differently—But we live in the world—and the world cries out for us to buy more—consume more—do more.
Pilate resolved to dispatch the whole situation simply and easily—to wash his hands of the matter and disappear into the mists of history. No one would ever remember the verdict and death of an itinerate preacher from Galilee executed as a criminal revolutionary in some back water little occupied province of the Roman Empire. Tens of nameless thousands had died at the hands of the Romans before—tens of thousands more would die—all nameless and easily forgotten to time. Maybe if you did something really evil—Osama bin Ladin evil—maybe then at least the history books would remember you to future generations—but death is an ending—it removes names from peoples lives—and in two or three generations the memories fade too—few of us can name our great great grandparents —and they have some claim to our memory of them. Pilate washed his hands—history would never remember the man executed —never remember him having anything to do with the whole affair. But that wasn’t true—not in this case. Centuries passed—empires rose and fell and rose again—nations and people triumphed and failed—millions—even billions—were born and died. Names of greatness were marked by history and forgotten to history—two millennium passed—and the name of Jesus lived on. It would not—could not—die. And one other name endured along side it—repeated over and over for centuries in Latin and Greek, German and English—in creedal confessions of both the eastern and western churches—suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified dead and buried. Few have come so close to eternity while washing their hands. Pilate did not know what we know too well. This Christ came not for death but life—and everything that is associated with him is life—even the water—transformed from the excuse from responsibility to the entry point into God’s kingdom and our acceptance of the great responsibility of discipleship.
Pilate washed his hands and said there was nothing more he could do—he tried to save Jesus but the crowd—the world around him —was too much in control of his life. He wanted to let this Jesus go. Instead he let the sin be passed to the victim—and Pilate did nothing—nothing but wash his hands. The whole passion narrative is filled with such moments—the disciples do nothing as the soldiers arrest Jesus—Peter denies even knowing who Jesus is—Those who could have defended him stood silent—and at the crucifixion no disciple stood by him—only a few women and they kept their distance. Not until Jesus is dead does anyone make a responsible move —Joseph of Arimathea claims the body. To do nothing is often to do more than any conscious act ever would do—If the doctor does not operate—does nothing—washes her hands of the patient—and the patient dies—who is responsible?
If the hungry are starving and no one sends food—no one
does anything. Instead we just wash our hands before sitting down to our meals—who
is responsible? If there is hatred and prejudice and no one welcomes or greets
the visitor—no one embraces the stranger —no one celebrates the diversity
of God’s creation so that the hatred grows—who is responsible? Grace
is the gift to discern that we are provided opportunity—and resources—and
vision—and water. To have been met by the Christ—to have heard his
words and witnessed his grace. You can wash your hands all you want—but
only Christ can make truly clean. No longer an act of our will or doing—there
is only one way. Receive here the gift of Christ’s body and blood. What
he did for us. The faith journey of Holy Week has begun. We dare not just stand
by and watch. Pilate washed his hands before the crowd saying I am innocent
of this man’s blood —And Pilate went back to his comfortable room—but
it wasn’t quite so comfortable anymore. And he really didn’t feel
very clean. He felt somehow as if he had soiled his hands so he washed them
again—and again and again. And outside the crowd cried crucify and a man
picked up his cross.
Amen.