Pontius Pilate

“Meanwhile, the leading priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas to be released and for Jesus to be put to death. So the governor asked again, ‘Which of these two do you want me to release to you?’

The crowd shouted back, ‘Barabbas!’ Pilate responded, ‘Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?’ They shouted back, ‘Crucify Him!’

‘Why?’ Pilate demanded. ‘What crime has He committed?’ But the mob roared even louder, ‘Crucify Him!’

Pilate saw that he wasn’t getting anywhere and that a riot was developing. So he sent for a bowl of water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood. The responsibility is yours!’”

(Matthew 27:20-24, NLT)

Pontius Pilate

The shining afternoon

gathered into darkness

like a blackened drape

pulled across the golden sun.

I only did the expedient thing.

A wooden cog caught

in the wheel

of spinning mob hatred.

What else could I do?

Their shouts fell as arrows

—piercing insurrection promises

should I not release

Barabbas instead.

In deepest night still

I hear their thundering cies,

“Crucify Him, Crucify Him!”

Yet stood He mute,

crushed like a white

unblemished rose

under heels of hypocrites.

A bruised petal

whose fragrant

aroma

ascended

as incense upon the altar.

Our eyes locked—

He knew—I knew

—innocent.

Now dreams destroy me.

Awakening,

I go wash,

yet again, and again.

 —Kathy F. Sanders

© Kathy F. Sanders 2006

(Poem published in Evangel magazine, April 16, 2006)