While indisputably a real person, we know only a little about Pontius Pilate, primarily from Philo, writing circa 41CE, and also Josephus (writing 75-79CE). Pilate was appointed as prefect, or governor, of Judea in 26CE and after ten years of insensitive and brutal control was, according to Philo, recalled to Rome in 36 ‘to stand trial for cruelty and oppression, particularly on the charge that he had executed men without proper trial.’ (On the Embassy to Gaius)
Described by Philo as having ‘an inflexible, stubborn and cruel disposition’, Pilate was not the kind of man who would entertain in his private residence those marked out for crucifixion, nor one who would feel remorse at the execution of thieves, insurrectionists and general trouble makers. It is likely he had hundreds if not thousands of them crucified during his time as prefect.
Would a man known for ‘his venality, his violence, his thievery, his assaults, his abusive behaviour, his frequent executions of untried prisoners and his endless savage ferocity’ (Philo), have a prisoner over for a chat about the nuances of the meaning of Truth? Almost certainly not.
Would he have suffered mental anguish because he might be about to execute an innocent man? Absolutely not.
Would he have symbolically washed his hands to ease his conscience? He would not.
Would he have offered a rabble the chance to free Jesus or the bandit Barabbas? Again, absolutely not. There was no such ‘tradition’ and the episode is clearly symbolic.
If Jesus was crucified ‘under Pontius Pilate’, the Prefect himself would, in all probability, not have been aware of it. Jesus would have been one more seditionist among many. Nor would Pilate have granted a member of the Sanhedrin, unrelated to the crucified criminal, the right to remove his corpse from a cross to give it a decent burial in compliance with Jewish ritual. Pilate was known for his insensitivity to such niceties.
Jesus’ encounters with Pilate in the gospels are so entirely implausible they can only be fictional. The two would never have met. Even if they had, none of the gospel writers would have known the details of their exchanges, different in each gospel. In all of them, the cruel and savage Pilate behaves entirely out of character.
While no records survive of any trials conducted by any prefect of the area (because there were none in the first place?) it is perhaps surprising that details of Jesus’s trial were not preserved, when only a few days later, reports that he had returned from the dead began to circulate. Yet, say apologists, this is one of the few indisputable, ‘minimal’ facts we know about the historical Jesus: ‘he was crucified under Pontius Pilate.’ It’s there in both the Nicene creed (325CE) and the so-called Apostles’ creed (circa 341). Yet Paul, writing close to the time of Pilate’s supposed involvement, doesn’t mention him, ever. When he’s not blaming ‘the Jews’ for Jesus’ death (forgetting he is a Jew himself) Paul is insisting demonic powers are responsible:
Yet among the mature we do speak wisdom, though it is not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age (‘Archons of this Aeon’), who are being destroyed. But we speak God’s wisdom, a hidden mystery, which God decreed before the ages for our glory and which none of the rulers of this age understood, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. (1 Corinthians 2:6-8)
While Paul doesn’t refer to either Pilate or the Romans in his teaching about the crucifixion, he does refer to the latter in his letter to believers in Rome itself. in Romans 13 he tells them they must obey Roman authority because God himself has put it in place. What an incongruous, unreasonable directive if the Romans had indeed been responsible for the execution of the Messiah.
The only other mention of Pilate outside the gospels is in 1 Timothy, which was not written by Paul but forged long after Mark had written the Prefect into his gospel as the embodiment of Paul’s demonic powers. (Mark’s gospel is in fact awash with demons, not to mention Satan himself. It’s essentially an allegory of their defeat at the hands of the Messiah.) 1 Timothy 6:13 merely repeats a tradition developed from Mark’s gospel that Jesus made ‘a good confession’ in front of Pilate.
The ‘fact’ that Pilate had Jesus executed is therefore poorly attested. Mark is the first to mention it, circa 70CE, and we know Matthew and Luke lifted their timelines and much of their detail from Mark. A growing number of scholars think John also relied on Mark for the general outline of his gospel. It is likely therefore there is only one source for Pilate’s involvement in Jesus’ death: Mark.
Outside the Bible, there is no evidence that Pilate was responsible. Josephus’s Testimonium Flavianum is widely accepted as an interpolation (i.e. later Christian tampering) and Tacitus’ mention of Pilate is far too late (c. 116CE) to be an independent source.* There is therefore no contemporaneous, independent, reliable evidence that Jesus was crucified under Pontius Pilate. That myth came later and then only from Mark.
Legend has it that Pilate either killed himself in 37CE on the orders of Caligula or retired and faded into obscurity. Whichever it was, would he, in his last days, have regretted his excessive cruelty? Would he have suffered remorse for executing an innocent man? Would he even have remembered? It all seems so unlikely.
*See chapter 3 of Michael Alter’s The Resurrection and Its Apologetics, 2024)
Homelander created by Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson. Image of Antony Starr from Amazon Prime’s The Boys.
As the official records record.
“He had a vewy gweat fwend in, Wome called Biggus Dickus.”
With apologies to the team of Monty Pyrhon.
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So, let’s imagine the end of a gospel written with knowledge of the real-life Pilate and the real-life Roman army.
~~~~~~~~Jesus and his disciples go to Gethsemane. At a minimum this includes “the twelve,” but probably includes many more not part of that inner circle. Perhaps it’s because they’ve come to “the big city” or perhaps it’s because he’s been struck with a case of Jerusalem Syndrome and Jesus is about to go all Messiah, but this time they’re armed.
Jesus takes three of them further into the garden, goes off a little further alone and prays.
When they return to the main group, the Roman soldiers have appeared. They’ve come in force. John identifies it as a “cohort.” A Roman cohort comprised 480 men.
Jesus and the disciples surrender. Or, scuffle with the soldiers and then surrender. Any left alive are taken prisoner by the Romans. Any who escaped are hunted down and either killed or captured by the Romans. At the same time, other groups of Roman soldiers are striking other places Jesus’ followers are known to be. All these men are also killed or taken.
All the prisoners are taken to the garrison. There is no trial. In the morning, Jesus and all his male followers are crucified along the road that heads north to Galilee.
The crucified take hours, perhaps days, to die. Their corpses are left on the crosses to decay and be eaten by scavengers. When the bones finally fall from the crosses they are collected and thrown in a common pit.
Pilate’s only involvement is to read a report that another 153 Jewish insurgents were rounded up and crucified.
The men of the Jesus movement have been obliterated. All that remains are the widows and orphans.
Perhaps Jesus’ family back in Nazareth hear of all this and feel a responsibility to help the survivors. His brothers James and Jude move to Jerusalem and gather the widows and orphans. They serve at the temple where portions of the sacrifices are reserved for widows, orphans, and the poor.
The Christ family remembers Jesus’ teachings from before he went crazy. They share those teaching with the movement’s surviving followers and any who will listen and perhaps donate to their cause. Like all such stories, they grow over time.
The new movement is small, existing primarily near the temple. But the stories are heard and spread by Jewish pilgrims to the temple from all over the empire.
One day, perhaps after the destruction of the temple, one not so stable Jew who’s heard the stories has a particularly vivid dream. . .
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Sounds just as plausible as the fantasy fable Mark came up with.
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