And the governor said,
"Why, what evil hath he done?" But they cried out the more, saying, "Let
him be crucified."
(Matt.
27:23)
We have a sad and
shameful scene in the life of our Savior presented for our consideration
in the language quoted. We have upon the bench as judge, the governor of
Judea, Pontius Pilate, holding that position by the grace and favor of
Tiberius Caesar, the Roman emperor, who had been then for about twenty
years occupying the throne of the great Roman empire. Before this judge
stands the Savior — pale, sad, troubled, pure, self-sacrificing and
ready to sacrifice life itself; a personage such as had never been upon
the earth before and was never to be on the earth again — the immaculate
Son of the living God — a prisoner on trial for his life before that
judge, surrounded by a tumultuous mob, thirsting and clamoring for the
blood of the prisoner.
As Jesus stood there
before Pontius Pilate, being tried for his life, he could look back
one-third of a century and almost feel the breath of heaven upon his
brow — that breath laden with the perfume of flowers that bloomed in the
garden of God; could remember that then every flower that bloomed in
that paradise on high, every breeze that fluttered the foliage of the
tree of life, every world in existence, every atom in space, belonged to
him, while angels and archangels around the throne of God cast their
crowns before him, and the stars were but glittering dust beneath his
feet. Yet he had sacrificed all these things; had come to this world and
become the Babe of Bethlehem, born in a stable, cradled in a manger; had
become the Man of sorrows, the Friend of sinners, the poorest of the
poor — poorer than the foxes of the fields or the birds of the air — and
stands now, without a friend beside him, on trial for his life before
the Roman governor.
The governor is troubled;
his wife has sent him a message: "Have thou nothing to do with that just
man." He looks over the mob and wonders what to do; he makes a
proposition to release unto them a prisoner, as was the custom at that
time, and he hopes they will choose Jesus to be released; but they
clamor for Barabbas, the robber, to be released. He asks them, "What
shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ?" and they cry,
"Crucify him, crucify him!" Then the governor asks the question, "Why,
what evil hath he done?" but they cried again, "Let him be crucified?'
The question that Pilate
propounded was a reasonable question, and one that has been recognized
as such by rational, reasonable people from that day to this —
reasonable that he should ask such a question when the mob clamored for
the crucifixion of Christ: "Why, what evil hath he done?" But from the
bosom of that mob, swept by a storm of anger, no answer comes save the
furious cry: "Away with him!" Mobs rarely listen to the voice of reason,
rarely regard reason, and especially such a mob as that — a mob filled
with the blackest and bitterest thing that ever shadows the soul of
human beings supposed to be respectable: the spirit of religious
fanaticism, partyism, bigotry, and prejudice.
They did not reject Jesus
because he was an atheist; they believed in God. They did not reject him
because he did not believe the Scriptures; he quoted from them
repeatedly, and said no jot or tittle of the law should pass until all
should be fulfilled. They did not oppose him because he was a sectarian;
for there was no sectarianism in his soul.
Why do they hate Jesus
so? Who are these people composing that mob? The religious advisers,
spiritual teachers, or ecclesiastical heads of the various sects,
parties, and denominations in existence at that time were there, with
the following of their denominations, sects, and parties, and at the
bottom and back of their hatred was this reason: Jesus did not regard or
respect their religious parties or partyism as such, did not sustain
them in the idea that every religion is right just because it is called
"religion." God had established Judaism fifteen hundred years before
that time — established it in a formal way at the foot of shaking Sinai,
when, from the summit of that cloud-wrapped mountain, he gave the law to
Moses; but base men, desiring to be leaders, and there being no head
places for them, had divided Judaism for their own base purposes and
reduced it to the level of partyism; and God has never set the seal of
his approbation on religious partyism. Pharisees and Sadducees and the
other sects and parties of the day were perpetually striving against
each other, each trying to rebuild itself upon the wreck and ruin of the
others. But they laid aside all their strife and wrangling among
themselves and formed a great ecclesiastical, crazy-quilt combination to
oppose the Son of God because he would not recognize their sects or
parties. Upon the same principle that Herod and Pilate could make
friends, though they had been foes, so in the presence of Jesus these
various sects and parties of the Jews formed a crazy-quilt combination,
and reared upon the mountain wave of hatred and passion a billow that
lifted him to the cross on which he died.
It behooves each one of
us, as we value our souls and the souls of those we might win, to think
seriously, carefully and prayerfully, to see if we are guilty along this
line. Are we doing as that mob did? Do we love supremely the cause of
Christ? Are we willing to do and dare and die to bring sinners away from
Satan to the Savior? Are we trying to get people to be Christians and
nothing but Christians — only this and nothing more — simply to take God
at his word, do what he commands, become and be what he requires, live
as he directs, and lovingly trust him for what he promises till he shall
call us home? Is that our mission? Is that our hope? Is that the end for
which we labor? Or is it our party that we love, our denomination that
we are trying to support? Is it our party, and not Christ and his cause
that we defend?
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