I Am Pontius Pilate – No Part in Innocent Blood

On that crisp morning, the sun barely rising over the horizon, a messenger from the emperor

arrived at my doorstep. His face was flushed with excitement, and his eyes sparkled as he handed

me a scroll. I took it from him eagerly, my heart the parchment.

As I read the words inscribed within, joy surged through me, multiplying tenfold with each

passing moment. I could hardly believe it—I had been appointed Governor of Judea! My mind

raced, filled with thoughts of responsibility, power, and the challenges that awaited me.

I turned to the messenger, still brimming with excitement, and pressed a gleaming gold coin into

his palm. "Well worth it," I muttered to myself, watching as he bowed and left.

But as the initial euphoria began to fade, the weight of my new role settled heavily upon my

shoulders. Judea was no ordinary province; it was a land steeped in tension, with zealots

determined to break free from Roman rule. It would be no easy task to govern such a restless and

rebellious people.

Yet, I felt a fire within me—a desire to prove my worth, to show that I could govern with both

strength and fairness. The road ahead would be long and fraught with danger, but I was ready to

embrace it. My journey as Governor of Judea had just begun.

When I first arrived in Judea, I settled into the Governor’s house in Jerusalem. The air was thick

with anticipation, but for the time being, things were calm. There were no immediate rebellions

stirring in the province, but I remained vigilant. Knowing the reputation of Judea, I formed a

small intelligence team to monitor the activities of the zealots, those ever-ambitious rebels

seeking to overthrow Roman rule.

The reports from my intelligence team brought no alarming news. The zealots seemed quiet, but

one name stood out in their updates: Jesus of Nazareth. According to my men, this Jesus held

public gatherings, attracting crowds of followers. It was said that he could heal the sick and even

the paralyzed. While intriguing, I did not take this news seriously. After all, his mission seemed

more spiritual than political, and there was no indication that he was leading any rebellion against

Caesar. His influence, for now, seemed divine rather than dangerous.

As my administration moved forward, the members of my council began to press me with a new

suggestion—one that filled my heart with unease. They proposed the construction of a colosseum

in Judea to entertain the masses. The people, they claimed, would be placated by gladiatorial

games, animal hunts, and the brutal spectacle of combat.

But I could not bring myself to support such a project. A colosseum, with its bloodshed and the

slaughter of innocents—both men and beasts—was a horror I could not condone. My soul

recoiled at the thought of building an arena where lives were thrown away for mere sport.

To avoid this, I informed the council that there were no funds to build a colosseum, citing

financial difficulties. In truth, my opposition was rooted in principle. I also mentioned the

logistical difficulties of transporting gladiators and animals into Judea from distant parts of the

Empire.

Instead, I proposed a different plan. I suggested the construction of an amphitheater to host plays

and public performances, a more civilized form of entertainment. Alongside it, we would build

new waterworks to ensure that the city and its people never suffered from a shortage of water. A

project that would benefit everyone.

For funding, I knew where to look. Herod's family had vast resources, and the Temple authorities

were rich in treasures. By appealing to them, I secured the necessary support, framing the project

as something that would enhance both the prestige and welfare of Judea.

In the end, I succeeded in pushing through my plan, though not without resistance. The

amphitheater rose, a testament to the power of culture over cruelty, and the new water channels

brought life to the city. For now, the people were entertained, the province was quiet, and I had

preserved my conscience.

A few days later, my servant came and told me that the Jewish authorities were waiting outside

with a petition. I asked him to bring them in, but he explained that they couldn’t enter because

they were observing the Sabbath, and it was considered unclean for them to come inside. I

thought to myself, these rituals and traditions will be their downfall one day. Not wanting to

prolong the matter, I decided to go out to them and settle the issue.

When I arrived, they accused Jesus of many things, claiming He had spoken against their laws

and even declared Himself the Son of God. I told them, "This is your problem. Why don’t you

punish Him according to your own laws?" One of them replied, “Your Excellency, we have no

authority to execute a person. According to our law, He must be put to death.” I then commanded

them to take Jesus to Herod for judgment, and they left.

However, they soon returned with Jesus, stating that Herod had not given any judgment, and they

demanded His execution. I thought it would be best to interrogate Jesus myself and try to find a

way to release Him. After questioning Him, I told the Jews, "I have interrogated this man, and I

find nothing deserving of death." But they shouted even louder, demanding His crucifixion. One

of them claimed, "Jesus said He is the King and will establish a new kingdom."

Hearing this, I asked Jesus once more, “Are you the King of the Jews?” He answered, “If I were

the King of the Jews, my followers would have defended me.” Curious, I asked, “Who are you,

then?” Jesus replied, “I am the King of the Kingdom of Truth.” I asked, “What is truth?” But

before He could answer, the restless crowd outside grew louder, shouting repeatedly, “Crucify

Him! Crucify Him!”

I then realized a possible way out. It was customary to release a prisoner during the festival. I

offered the crowd a choice: Barabbas, a known criminal, or Jesus. But the people shouted,

“Crucify Jesus and free Barabbas!” With no other option left, and with my wife having warned

me not to punish Jesus due to a troubling dream she had, I was torn. If I freed Jesus, Caesar might

become my enemy, and the Jews would revolt.

Reluctantly, I made my decision. I called for water, washed my hands before the crowd, and

declared, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; this is your responsibility.” I handed Jesus over to

the Jews, leaving the place with a heavy heart.

Just after the crucifixion of Jesus, some Temple authorities came to me with a complaint. They

were upset because the inscription on Jesus’ cross read, “Jesus, the King of the Jews.” They

insisted it should have said, “He claimed to be the King of the Jews.” I lost my temper and told

them, “You always cling to your rituals and stir up trouble. What is done is done. Now leave at

once!” I dismissed them immediately.

After Jesus was crucified, a man named Joseph of Arimathea came to me, requesting permission

to perform the last rites for Jesus according to their traditions. Hearing this, I was pleased—at least

someone had come forward to honor Jesus after His death. Without a second thought, I granted

him permission.

Three days after Jesus’ crucifixion, my intelligence agents reported an unusual rumor circulating

in the city. There was talk that Jesus had risen from the dead and had appeared to His disciples,

even holding secret meetings with them. I was confused—how could someone rise from the

dead? To clear things up, I summoned Joseph of Arimathea. He confirmed that he had performed

the last rites, placed Jesus' body in the tomb, and sealed it with a large stone. My confusion

deepened, but I had no clear way to investigate further. In the following days, reports continued

to surface that Jesus' followers were meeting in secret, spreading His teachings. My trusted agents

assured me that there was nothing in their gatherings that posed a threat to Roman rule.

As time passed, there was a change in the Roman government. Caligula became the emperor, and

this was not good news for me. The new emperor held a grudge against me over minor past

disagreements. As I feared, the same messenger who had delivered my appointment as Governor

of Judea arrived with grim news—it was a termination order. I now had three options: return to

Rome and live as an ordinary citizen, end my life rather than live under the mercy of others, or

dedicate myself to the last words Jesus spoke to me: "The Kingdom of Truth."

I chose to prefer the last option. Only time will tell what lies ahead.

- Pontius Pilate - The Ex Governor of Judaea.