Luke 23:25Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

For they thought they could add this, namely, that Jesus was worse than a robber, and so wicked, that neither for mercy’s sake, or by the privilege of the feast, ought He to be let free.

Wherefore by the testimony of two men, Jesus is declared innocent, but the Jews His accusers brought forward no witness whom they could believe. See then how truth triumphs. Jesus is silent, and His enemies witness for Him; the Jews make loud cries, and not one of them corroborates their clamour.

Behold, I implore you, this defiant serpent, expelled from his dominion over us, who for himself and the wicked that follow him digs a pit of ruin. As the Psalmist proclaims, 'the nations fall into the destruction they have created; into the snare they have set, their own foot is caught.' The Lord is recognized as the executor of justice; by the deeds of His hands, the sinner is ensnared. For through the works of his own making, he became trapped, and 'he fell into the pit which he had crafted; his labor returned upon his own head, and his iniquity was laid upon him,’ for he was ejected, as noted, due to his arrogance towards us.

Luke returns to those things which were going on before the governor, from which He had digressed in order to relate what took place with Herod; saying as follows, And Pilate, when he had called, &c. from which we infer, that he has omitted the part wherein Pilate questioned our Lord what He had to answer to His accusers.

Here Pilate, who as a judge acquits Christ, is made the minister of His crucifixion. He is sent to Herod, sent back to Pilate, as it follows, Nor yet Herod, for I sent you to him, and behold nothing worthy of death is done unto him. They both refuse to pronounce Him guilty, yet for fear’s sake, Pilate gratifies the cruel desires of the Jews.

It is stated in Scripture as well. Yet, they desired to have Him crucified.

Perish then those writings, which, composed so long a time after Christ, convict not the accused of magical arts against Pilate, but the writers themselves of treachery and lying against Christ.

The individual who is set free is the one guilty of embezzlement, wrongdoing, and murder, while the Son of God, the embodiment of pure innocence, is surrendered to death. 'The governor released to them the one who had been imprisoned for insurrection and murder, whom they requested; but he handed Jesus over to their intentions.' We, dear friends, are responsible for the unrighteous being favored over the righteous Jesus. Our transgressions placed upon Him outweighed the offenses of the murderer. For He bore the sins of the entire world, being 'the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world' (John 1:29). Our conscience, troubled by our sins, cries out to God on our behalf. The law of God, which we had transgressed, demanded judgment from Him and condemned us to everlasting death.

In the end, the earthly magistrate, recognizing that his efforts were futile and only stirred public outcry, delivered the death sentence against the Judge of the living and the dead. This ruling, in accordance with Roman legal practice, was simply stated, declaring that a specific individual faced a particular consequence for a certain infraction. Beyond the Gospel account of Jesus Christ’s trial, it is pertinent to observe that Pontius Pilate sent a report to Tiberius, wherein he recounted the life of Jesus, His miracles, His holiness, the trial He underwent, and the rationale behind His crucifixion. Although the original document has long been lost, its existence is affirmed by early church fathers such as Justin Martyr and Tertullian, who cited it as undeniable evidence in their defenses before the Roman senate and populace. Tiberius was reportedly so taken by the account of Jesus’ miracles and sanctity that he suggested to the senate that Jesus should be included among the Roman deities; however, for reasons unknown, the senate rejected this proposal, and Tiberius opted to sanction the cessation of Christian persecution under the threat of punishment. It is noteworthy that Pilate did not evade the peril he dreaded by illegally condemned Jesus to death. Four years later, he was called to Rome to answer accusations from the Jews and, unable to clear himself, was imprisoned in Vienna, where he ultimately took his own life. The fate of another judge during Jesus’ time, Herod Antipas, was not much different from that of Pilate. Driven by the ambitions of Herodias, he sought greater power in Judea rather than simply ruling Galilee, yearning for total dominion similar to that of his father, Herod the Great. However, his aspirations ended badly, resulting in his exile to Lyons, where he lived in destitution.

At first glance, the trial of Jesus stands apart in many respects from typical human trials. He endured the torment of three different authorities—Jewish, Galilean, and Roman—over a matter none of them claimed as their own. Despite persistent accusations from the Sanhedrin and the crowd, which the Sanhedrin eagerly awaited, a Roman procurator, seemingly unsympathetic to the defendant, arose as a fervent advocate of Jesus’ innocence. The judge openly declared His righteousness yet soon thereafter pronounced the death sentence. This trial presented unique circumstances, as Jesus had access to both natural and supernatural defenses, yet He used only what was necessary to prove His innocence. Each trial had its defining character: the Sanhedrin judged Jesus among His personal adversaries, echoing the judgment of wickedness; in Herod’s palace, a tyrant swayed by whim dictated the proceedings, and although Pilate’s court had the potential to be a refuge for righteousness, it was overshadowed by worldly authority where justice was compromised. The truth itself, embodied in the Son of God, traversed the courts of humanity seeking those who might understand or pursue it. It echoed the lamentations of David, highlighting the departure from goodness as all had gone astray—there being none righteous, not even one (Psalm 13:3). The blindness and defiance of the Jewish people, especially their leaders, were fully revealed. If John the Baptist had risen from the dead, even amid the miracles surrounding Jesus, the chief priests and the people, who had witnessed His works, would still hear the call for repentance: “There is a man standing in the midst of you, whom you do not know!” (John 1:26). The rejection of the Messiah in such a treacherous manner and the cruel persecution He faced stand as a testament to the hardness of their hearts.

It should not be assumed that the enemies of Jesus acted against Him from a place of clear conviction regarding His identity as the promised Messiah, for that would attribute to humanity a malevolence akin to that of the devil, who despises the truth. Yet, it must be noted that the Jewish leaders did everything in their power to keep their own hearts veiled from His truth. Their actions in arresting Jesus were unworthy and dishonorable, as they hastily resolved the case of the Messiah, whose presence was crucial to the temporal and eternal welfare of Israel. Had they not recognized His miracles? Just days before, Lazarus had been raised from the dead before their eyes! If such evidence couldn't convince the Sanhedrin that Jesus was the Messiah, it should have at least prompted them to hesitate before taking such drastic actions against Him, a man believed by many to fulfill so many messianic prophecies.

The sluggish nature of Jesus’ trial in Pilate’s court seemed divinely orchestrated to prompt His adversaries to acknowledge their wrongdoing. Pilate, albeit reluctantly, became a herald of repentance for them. Meanwhile, to achieve their blindly chosen objective, the Jewish elders resorted to ignoble means: bribing a disciple, entering Gethsemane armed after the Passover meal, conferring like criminals under cover of night, spurring the people’s animosity, and threatening the ruler—such actions indicate a profound degradation of their integrity. Never had the supreme council of the Jews debased themselves to such a degree as they did to orchestrate the disgraceful execution of their Messiah. It is challenging to conceive that none among the throng that demanded the Lord's death were devoted to Him; their fear for their own safety surely silenced any expression of loyalty, lest they incur the wrath of the Pharisees, who threatened violence even against the procurator.

The silence of the evangelists regarding any Jewish defenders of Jesus before Pilate exemplifies the absence of such advocates; likewise, the so-called Gospel of Nicodemus—where figures like Nicodemus, the healed paralytic of Siloam, the woman healed of bleeding, and the centurion of Capernaum testify to Jesus before the procurator—lacks historical credibility. The crowd that clamored for Jesus’ death clearly exemplified the ease with which malevolence can manipulate public sentiment. Where the voice of the people should echo righteousness, it became the chaotic uproar incited by evil.

Pilate’s behavior illustrates the consequences of weak leadership when faced with the demand for justice. His lack of moral resolve led him to obfuscate responsibility by attempting to wash his hands of the matter, believing he could absolve himself from the blood of the innocent One. This scene fosters feelings of regret that can easily morph into indignation. Yet, our judgment of Pilate should remain measured, adhering to the sentence issued by the Lord Himself. Greater culpability lies with those who handed Jesus over to him—Judas, the Jewish leaders, especially the high priests—who dangerously approached the edge of sin against the Holy Spirit, which, as proclaimed by the Savior, will not be pardoned in either this age or the age to come (Matt. 12:32). Pilate’s transgression was comparatively limited, having only sinned against the Son of Man, and thus he remained within the scope of those for whom the condemned Son of God aimed to secure salvation.

Through the noble act of Pilate’s wife, the lowly actions of her husband were somewhat redeemed. In stark contrast to Herodias, who held John the Baptist in contempt (Mark 6:17), Procula demonstrated an openness to truth and goodness. Upon experiencing an extraordinary dream she perceived as divine revelation, she courageously sought to avert the death of the Righteous One, even defying societal norms that discouraged wives from engaging in their husbands’ judicial affairs. The difference in their religious backgrounds, which often divides people, did not hinder her from seeking salvation for the Jewish prisoner. Her dream was not without purpose, as it aligned perfectly with Pilate’s critical moment. Should it have been mere imagination, one would expect it to embolden her husband’s ambitions for political favor, yet such evil notions did not seem to arise in Procula’s noble heart.

It is remarkable that Claudia Procula was not among the Jewish converts influenced by the fervent zeal of the Pharisees (Matt. 23:15); instead, her commendable character likely caught the attention of Providence. Just as He revealed His will to others in the past—like Abimelech (Genesis 20:3) and Job's friends (Job 20:7)—likewise, Procula became a vessel for divine guidance. Yet some may question the efficacy of her dream—why, if it was a genuine divine prompt, did it not change the course of events? Perhaps it was not intended to alter destiny, but rather to fulfill a greater purpose. Procula, touched by righteousness, engaged in the unfolding narrative of Christ’s journey and ultimately interacted with His disciples, leading to her belief. Ancient tradition holds that Procula became a Christian, enduring persecution for the name of the Righteous One she could not save.

Pilate, too, was not immune to the influence of his wife's warning, even though he disregarded her counsel. His actions before issuing the death sentence reflected this internal struggle; by washing his hands, he attempted to display his innocence, calling the condemned Jesus “Righteous,” a title evidently inspired by his wife’s sentiments. This testimony of Jesus’ innocence, given by a Gentile judge, serves the Christian faith's triumph and stands as a rebuke to the enemies of Christ. Moreover, the Lord demonstrated His faithfulness in sending Procula a warning, reinforcing the truth that He does not allow anyone to be tempted beyond their strength (1 Corinthians 10:13).

Pilate faced the ultimate trial: to defend the innocent prisoner or uphold the honor of Caesar. His conscience, undermined by the absence of genuine faith, buckled under the weight of this temptation. Until then, he had followed the flicker of conscience but now found himself seeking an elusive compromise. Providence, however, had not abandoned him; intimidation and pressure could have obscured Pilate’s conscience, and it is through a divine intervention that we see he wrestled with this critical choice. Without such grace, some might argue that Pilate, despite his many attempts to act justly, was ultimately lost in his decision-making.

Amid his accusers, the Lord manifested an unmatched dignity. Plato might have recognized a righteous man embodied in Jesus had he witnessed the trial. Gone was any sign of the intense struggle He faced in Gethsemane, replaced by the majestic aura of the Lion from the tribe of Judah (Rev 5:5), who, meek as a lamb before slaughter, opened not His mouth (Isa 53:7). While judges and accusers credited their own efforts, Jesus perceived them as instruments of a higher authority. In unseen majesty, He engaged in another judgment—the Father’s judgment—who had consecrated Him and sent Him forth to bear humanity’s sins in His body (1 Peter 2:24). This divine judgment, made before the foundation of the world, embraced not only Jesus’ person but the redemption of the world that the Son of God willingly carried.

In this moment, the forces of evil and truth converged, with the adversary being the prince of darkness, destined to forfeit his hold over humankind (John 12:31-32), and the truth of God demanding satisfaction for human transgressions. The sentence, decreed in eternity, now unfolded before heaven and earth. From this divine vantage, what did Pilate's court, the Sanhedrin with its false witnesses, or Herod with his authority signify to the Son of God? Aware that suffering awaited Him, Jesus observed the chalice of suffering being filled before His eyes. His silence did not diminish the righteousness of the judgment passed upon Him; the Lord had already communicated His identity to His accusers, declaring He was the Messiah and warning them that they would one day see Him as the Divine Judge. Their failure to heed this profound warning stemmed from their own blindness.

Dear listeners, the actions of Pilate are noteworthy in many ways. The most significant aspect here is the recognized innocence of our Lord Jesus, acknowledged even by Pilate, an innocence transgressed only by the audacity of human passion. Furthermore, Pilate's actions reveal the frailty of human devotion to truth. O guardians of righteousness, earnestly seek the God of truth, that He may grant you the vision to perceive truth and equip you with the resoluteness to fulfill the works of truth.

Pilate was not swayed by the fear of disregarding the truth. He did not perceive a threat to his governance, which he had been appointed to uphold. Rather, he recognized a danger to his own authority and surrendered weakly to the influence of the unruly. He didn’t even delay his verdict for a more appropriate moment. It was not a sense of duty as a statesman, albeit mistaken concerning the matter at hand, that drove Pilate to distort the truth and justice. Instead, it was a concern for his own well-being and his position that led him to alter righteousness. What kind of judgment was this?

The adversaries of the Lord sought to persuade Pilate to impose the death penalty on Jesus by resorting to the extreme tactic of suggesting that if he were to release the individual accused of undermining his royal authority, they would report him to Rome. This maneuver weakened Pilate's determination to liberate Jesus. Nevertheless, he made another effort to appeal to the pride of the Jewish people and their aspirations for sovereignty. He presented Jesus on the judgment seat and proclaimed to the crowd, "Behold, your King...! Shall I crucify your king?" His intention was to remind the Jews, who were irrational in their fury, that if Jesus indeed claimed kingship over the Jews, they should reflect on their own desires for an independent ruler and their opposition to Rome.

Pilate placed Jesus under the jurisdiction of the Sanhedrin. As noted by the Evangelist Luke, Pilate acquiesced to their demands, releasing Barabbas, the man imprisoned for insurrection and murder, but left Jesus to their judgment. Thus, the verdict of humanity against Divine Truth was fulfilled. The sinful world, ensnared in wickedness, could not endure this truth and rebelled against it; in this rebellion, the fierce struggle of evil to preserve its long-standing reign over mankind was revealed. Although evil could not prevail against Divine Truth, in this intense conflict, the forerunner of truth in human form was not merely to be vanquished; he was to face death. This death was prophesied by divinely inspired prophets.

The adversaries of Christ possessed hearts more unyielding than the hardest stone, and once they regained from their momentary discomposure, fearing that the opportunity for sacrifice might escape them, they began to shout and cheer even louder, filling the air with their bloodthirsty demands, "Crucify Him, crucify Him!" Had Pilate exhibited greater moral and civic courage, the situation could have been resolved at that moment. According to Roman law, the Accused was declared innocent, and the representative of that law dismissed the allegations of insulting his authority as unfounded. Thus, the case had to be evaluated solely under Jewish law, which had restricted capacity to impose the death penalty.

‘Another evangelist records, "Took Jesus and commanded him to be beaten,"’ as stated in John 19:1. The accounts of Jesus Christ's torture and derision, according to the first two Evangelists, occurred after Pilate's ultimate ruling (Matthew 27:26-31; Mark 15:15-20), while the fourth Gospel introduces these events alongside Barabbas. There is no inconsistency present. To grasp the full context of these occurrences, one must consider the narratives provided by all four Evangelists. After the episode involving Barabbas, Pilate had capitulated to the crowd’s demands and decided to condemn Jesus; thus, the beating and ridicule served as a harbinger of His impending execution. Following this grim introduction to the Lord's suffering, Pilate hoped that such brutality would evoke compassion from the onlookers for the Innocent before them, perhaps leading to a different resolution. This anticipated reaction explains the postponement of the final verdict. The culmination of the trial is only conveyed after the sequence recounted by John (19:4-15).

The Mosaic Law already alludes to physical punishment, likely involving rods as tools (Leviticus 19:20; Deuteronomy 22:18). The compassionate nature of the law dictated that no more than forty lashes be administered (Deuteronomy 25:1-3). In subsequent eras, as the gentler spirit of theocratic governance waned, ‘scorpions’ are mentioned (1 Samuel 12:11) - a type of whip with sharp hooks. The punishment assigned by Pilate to Jesus was not of Jewish origin but rather Roman, consisting of scourging, which was a common Roman practice. When a magistrate deemed it necessary to inflict torture upon a defendant, this punishment was referred to as quaestio per tormenta or Flagella quaestionia causa (Seneca, On Anger 3.18). Scourging often served as a brutal precursor to capital punishment, particularly in cases leading to crucifixion (Jerome, Commentary on Matthew 27; compare Cicero, On the Verres 5.54; Livy 7.19; 10.9; 33.36; Josephus, Jewish War II.14.9; V.11.1; Dio Cassius 49.22). It was recognized as a distinct and severe form of punishment (Cicero, On the Verres 5.62).

The instruments utilized for scourging were commonly thin twigs from elm trees, which would strike the victim with a loud noise. More frequently, the scourge took form as leather whips with sharp bones or lead weights attached (Lipsius, On the Cross 1.3). Prior to being scourged, the condemned person was stripped of their clothing (Dionysius of Halicarnassus IX, pp. 596; Cicero, On the Verres 5.62; Suetonius, Caligula 26; Tacitus, Histories 4.27; Philostratus, Flaccus 976) and bound in a bent position to a low post (ad palum alligatus; Cicero, On the Verres 5.6). Often, not only the back but also the chest, face, and even the eyes were subjected to blows (Cicero, On the Verres 5.54; Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History VI.41; VIII.6). Eusebius notes that witnesses to such scourging were horrified to see the body mangled to the point where muscle and entrails were visible (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History IV.15). This account, although referencing martyrs from Smyrna in the second century, reflects the extreme brutality characteristic of such forms of punishment. Due to the inhumanity of these punishments, many perished under the savage lashes (Ulpianus, On Punishments; compare Philo's account in Flaccus §10).

Such egregious corporal punishment was generally intended for slaves. Roman citizens were exempt under the exclusions of Porcius and Sempronius, instead facing punishment with sticks (Livy 10.9; Digest XLVIII On Punishments 19.10; Cicero, On the Verres 5.63). However, especially in the provinces, free individuals could also be scourged, as evidenced by Cicero’s condemnation of Verres and Josephus’ indictment of Flora, who scourged many prominent Jews, even those with Roman citizenship, before sending them to crucifixion (Josephus, Jewish War II.14.9; Cicero, On the Verres 5.54; Tacitus, Histories 4.27). The common populace frequently suffered such punishments without the usual lictors who enforced them under proconsuls and praetors, as the minimal number required was typically two, but could reach six (Cicero, On the Verres 5.54). Hence, Pilate assigned the scourging of Jesus to his soldiers, leading to the reasonable conclusion that the implements used were whips rather than the conventional rods employed by lictors. This is partly supported by the term φραγελλώσας (Matthew 27:26; Mark 15:15) used in the Gospel to describe the scourging of Jesus.

The site of the scourging, as inferred from the continued narrative of the Gospel, was not in the square, occupied by a tumultuous crowd, nor in a courtroom, but likely in a designated area of the Praetorium, perhaps in a section specifically established for such acts, including the customary scourging post found in every Roman Praetorium. This notion is supported by long-standing traditions identifying this precise post. Mentions of it can be found in the writings of pilgrims and early ecclesiastical authorities such as the Bordeaux Pilgrim, Blessed Jerome (in his account of St. Paul’s pilgrimage), Theodosius, Antoninus Martyr, Arculphus, and others. The duration of this dreadful torment is not clearly stated by the Evangelists. They note only a brief mention of Jesus' scourging (Matthew 27:26; Mark 15:15; John 19:1). Luke, seemingly seeking to shield his audience from the harshness of this scene, refrains from detailing it, instead offering a poignant observation: ‘And he (Pilate) released to them the one they requested, who had been imprisoned for insurrection and murder, but he delivered Jesus over to their will’ (Luke 23:25). Despite this, some sought to quantify the blows endured by Jesus or the wounds inflicted upon Him. In one poem by Bartol. Laurentius, it is remarked: ‘To believe the number of wounds suffered by Christ for us is equal to those apprehended by these four figures 5475,’ asserting that these were notably greater, a sentiment echoed by Saint Bridget. Others, such as Ludolph of Saxony, affirmed similar sentiments (On the Life of Christ Part 2, Cap. 58). Some calculated a total of blows at 475, while others suggested a count as high as 5375 or 5460, yet the true nature of the cruelty is universally acknowledged.

On the southern side of the street that stretches from the Gethsemane Gate to the west, known in Arabic as Tarik-sitti-Mariam, at the north-western corner of the temple, stands a cluster of stone structures currently housing Turkish barracks. These stone edifices, extending in a line from west to east before angling southward, form a significant feature of the area known as es-Serai. These buildings are extensive, irregularly formed, boasting flat roofs and multiple courtyards of varying sizes. Pilgrims journeying to Jerusalem inevitably pause at this site, greeted by ornate gates adorned with Saracen designs. The walls exhibit pale yellow and red stones, and a semicircular threshold forms the entrance to the gates. However, the latter was almost entirely blocked in 1857 due to the installation of a pavement alongside the barracks. The circular platform reveals remnants of a staircase, leading to the tradition that in the days of Christ, it was here that He ascended to Pilate's court, while the current Serai was once the location of the Roman governor's Praetorium. Should a pilgrim gain entry into the barracks courtyard, they will encounter a site believed to be where Jesus was crowned with thorns; however, this belief is primarily rooted in Latin legend.

This small, quadrangular chapel with niches on each side may once have housed the opulent coffin of Louis, the King of Sicily. Now it serves as a store for barley for artillery horses. The latest architectural styles of the buildings indicate a more recent origin, particularly as Pierotti contemplates the entrance of the gate as a remnant of Saladin or Suleiman's time. The decorative trimming on some stones hints at a Crusader-era use of older materials. However, the precise history and purpose of these structures remain elusive. It is certain that Turkish pashas once resided in this location, though the dates remain uncertain. Tobler speculates that this began no earlier than the late 15th century when Turkish pashas were recorded to have apartments here.

Regarding the 28 marble steps, mentioned by A.S. Norov in Rome, located in ‘the church called the Holy Porch near the cathedral of St. John Lateran’, these were likely transported from Jerusalem by the Crusaders. A prominent Latin inscription reads: ‘Pilate took Jesus and ordered Him to be scourged,’ positioned nearly against the site of the ‘holy staircase’ at a chapel of scourging, which is marked by a small grated iron door. The Franciscan caretakers indicate that the center of the chapel is where the scourging post was situated. In the early 17th century, Quarezmius observed a well-preserved chapel that Mustapha Bey, son of the city's governor, had repurposed as a stable. A century and a half later, Abbot Mariti noted that the legend surrounding this site had become unreliable. Ibrahim Pasha subsequently granted the property to the Franciscans, who restored and expanded the chapel in 1839, funded by Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria.

Proceeding westward from the ‘holy porch’ and Franciscan chapel of scourging, a short distance brings one to a large arch known as the arch Ecce-homo, rising impressively above passersby and extending beyond both street boundaries. A small room with three quadrangular latticed windows—two on the east and one on the west—sits atop this arch, accessible via stairs on the south side. A pointed spire embellishes the structure. Tradition holds that this arch marks the scene of the poignant moment at Pilate's judgment seat known as Gabbatha. Thus, it is sometimes referred to interchangeably as Gabbatha or Lifostroton. The arch is commemorated by the proclamation of Pilate to behold the bloodied, thorn-crowned Christ: ‘Behold the man!’

The earliest records of an arch resembling the present Ecce-homo date back to Marinus Sanutus in the early 14th century, who described two substantial stones supporting Jesus as He bore the cross. By the mid-15th century, various pilgrims chronicled their visits, aiming to capture the details of this grand structure. Some pilgrims portrayed the arch as a grand, blackened vault, designed so expertly that no gaps could be detected between its stones. It featured two smaller arches nearby. Considering the context of Pilate's trial, those two stones atop the arch were symbolically significant; they represented Pilate's judgment seat and Christ during the inquiry.

However, descriptions of the stones varied—some reported that one bore Jesus, the other Pilate, while others noted both stood. The stones were noted as quadrangular, broad, white, and smoothly shaped. Notably, references from the latter half of the 16th century mention a structure atop the arch where Pilate allegedly declared the fateful words, which lent the arch its name. Latin and Greek inscriptions adorn some of the arch's stones, amidst which emperors and individuals of prominence are referenced. Previously uncovered inscriptions included phrases such as ‘Take, take Him, crucify Him!’ and perceptively mention the gradual degradation of these inscriptions over time.