The incident related in this scripture is the strangest yet most significant court scene in history. Strange because never before or since has the world witnessed a scene just like it, and significant because on its outcome depended the security of the world for generations to come.

It was in Pilate's hall that Jesus faced the stern hand of the law. It was there His accusers threw their wicked accusations against Him---accusations that were supported by the noise of the crowd rather than by concrete evidence. Such an atrocious outrage was the whole affair that Pilate would gladly have passed the case on to someone else. So innocent was Christ, even in Pilate's eyes, that any lawyer could easily have defended Him. As a matter of fact, if I had been starting out as a lawyer and had been choosing my first case I would have chosen this one. It would have been a hard case to lose because, in the first place, the judge would have been on my side. In fact, I do not think it would have been necessary for me to have said anything to convince Pilate that Jesus was innocent. Pilate was an experienced man; he had judged hundreds, probably thousands, of cases. He knew when a man was a fraud. Furthermore, even if Pilate had thought that Jesus was guilty, I would have stood every chance to have won, for he would gladly have turned the case against the crowd because they irritated him. He was still angry about being awakened so early in the morning and his wife's dream was still haunting him. Nor did the Jews, refusing to come into the building for fear of defilement, help matters any. The Jews were thoroughly obnoxious to him, and here was a good chance to even up some old scores.

Jesus could see exactly the way the case stood as He faced Pilate. He knew everything was in His favor. He knew that with a few words of truth He could be released. He also realized that Pilate was on the fence, for he was afraid of the crowd. If He chose to defend Himself, He would have no difficulty in winning His freedom. On the other hand, if He refused to speak, a crown of thorns, a brutal whipping and a cruel cross were awaiting Him. That was indeed a trying moment. It was then that the world rocked in the balances. If Jesus had answered Pilate with His usual eloquence, no doubt He would have been set free, but the world would have been lost; the power of sin would have continued its sway over mankind until the end. If Jesus had cried, "I am innocent; I am innocent," the echo of His words would have wailed our fate, "Lost, lost, lost!" Thank God, He did not shirk His duty in that hour.

The text tells us that when Christ faced Pontius Pilate He remained silent. Surely there is nothing in the pages of history that can parallel that. But silence is not always silent. Sometimes silence speaks louder than thunder; sometimes her cries are sharper than a two-edged sword; sometimes she is more powerful than marching troops, more formidable than a mechanized army. The silence of Jesus in Pilate's hall set captives free, healed the sick, mended broken hearts and threw a golden cable of salvation around the world. There was a definite reason for His silence that day.

The silence of Jesus in Pilate's hall set captives free, healed the sick, mended broken hearts and threw a golden cable of salvation around the world. There was a definite reason for His silence that day.
[ End of Part 1 ]

The first voice we hear crying from this silence is that of the Savior, ready to do the Father's command. Before Jesus came from the mansions in glory He knew just what this ordeal would be. He knew that Isaiah's prophecy must be fulfilled, and He also realized the terrible agony that would be necessary in order to fulfill it. He knew the prophecies by heart, but He also knew that it was He who must suffer. He could repeat from memory the scriptures describing His death. He knew that Isaiah had written: "He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth."

In the face of such a trial as that, it is a wonder that Jesus did not succumb. One word from His lips and He would have escaped it all. One gesture toward Pilate and He would have been freed. Oh, the temptation of that hour! None of us have ever faced anything like it. What a challenge that is! This temptation may have surged through His mind and it probably was not a sudden one. Jesus knew from the beginning that He was going to have to face this ordeal. Jesus had passed through a real conflict in the Garden of Gethsemane just before this. As a matter of fact, the conflict was so great that the Scriptures tell us that "his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground." But great as the temptations were, fierce as the conflict was, Jesus remained true to His convictions. He was obedient even unto death on the cross. The temptation that Jesus faced before Pilate was probably the greatest He had ever had. It was even sharper than those in the wilderness, for here He was facing immediate, stark reality; the cross was only a stone's throw away. Many a man facing such a decision would have tottered and fallen. But Jesus, knowing the terrifying agony of the cross, remained steadfast in the task He had set out to do.

All this is thrilling history to me because I know that Jesus Christ is "the same yesterday, and today, and forever." Today Jesus Christ is my attorney in heaven. Today He pleads my case before God. I know this is true because John wrote in his first epistle: "If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." If Jesus could tenaciously stand for the truth, even in the shadow of the cross, I am sure that He will rightly plead for me. We can be sure that He is just the same now as He was when He forgave the woman taken in the very act. Others change, but Christ never changes.

Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changes not, abide with me!

Still another voice comes from that silence and that is the voice of love for men. There is a touch of pathos in its words, for it is crying and pleading the cause of humanity. It is a voice that we have heard before, when Jesus said: "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." There was always a tear in that voice because of the love that was throbbing in the great heart of the Savior. But certainly there was nothing in that crowd of religious ruffians that would cause one's heart to bleed with compassion. What incentive could Jesus have for love when He looked into their vile faces, distorted with anger and purple with hate? What spirit of love could have flowed through His soul when He saw numbered among the throng men and women whom He had healed? If you had been there, do you think you could have loved them? Be honest with yourself, could you? If their cruel words, shouted in bigoted derision, "Crucify him, crucify him!" had fallen on your ears, do you think you could have remained silent?

But remain silent Jesus did, not because of any encouragement from the crowd, for there was none. He held His peace because of His indescribable love for humanity. That was love's supreme test. Never before has anyone been tested like that, and never before has love had a sweeter note than it had in Pilate's hall. I wish I had the vocabulary to describe such love. If I were to borrow Shakespeare's vocabulary, it would still be found wanting. If I could use the dramatic power of Talmage, the voice of Spurgeon, and the zeal of Jonathan Edwards, I would still fall far short. Yes, even if we could gather all the wisdom of all the sages that ever lived together they could not begin to describe the wonderful love of Jesus. If it were possible I would borrow Jacob's ladder, throw it up to the portals of heaven and ask the angels the best way to see the love of Christ. But I am afraid they would simply fold their wings and say, "We cannot understand it ourselves. If you must see the depth of His love, go to Pilate's hall or look at Calvary's cross." It was there, my friends, that the fathomless, matchless, external love of Jesus Christ was crystallized in experience so that mankind could see it. The poet has well written:

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
Were the whole world of parchment made,
Were every single stick a quill,
Were every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God alone
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky. -Anon.

But there is still another voice that cries from that silence. It is conspicuous by its absence. Certainly there were some present who had known of the Savior's love. Surely someone was there who had felt His healing power, but if they were there they did not make it known. They simply kept silent-shamefully silent. Peter was not the only one who denied his Lord. Those in the crowd that had known Him and had loved Him were denying Him also by their silence.

If in court a friend of yours were being sentenced and you knew that He was innocent and you had evidence that would free Him and yet kept silent, you would certainly be a rogue. How much more so was that true of the followers of Christ! They had seen deaf ears unstopped, blind eyes opened and the halt raised up. They had felt His healing virtues and had eaten bread from His hands; yet they kept silent. Where can we find a word vile enough to describe them? The crimes of Benedict Arnold are insignificant in comparison with these. Many there are who have glimpsed Christ's suffering, have felt His love and witnessed His power, and are willing to do anything they can for Him. They like to join in the chorus and sing:

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

But if the whole realm of nature were ours, a great number of us would hold onto it regardless of what happened. Today Jesus Christ is being crucified anew; today a crown of thorns as real as that of the Jews' is being pressed on His head. Today the world is shouting, "Crucify, crucify!" and what are we doing about it? Oh, for a greater soul burden! Oh, for greater love and greater compassion! Will we stand idly by and see Him crucified? or will we join the redeemed of all ages and lift our voice in the crowd, and say, "I, even I, will follow Jesus wherever He goes. If He is to be crucified, let me die also?" Do we think we could do that? Millions of martyrs have done it, and many more are doing it still today!
[ The End ]