alilean prisoner to his judgment, and
Pilate would gladly rid himself of the awkward case by this ingenious
device. But it was useless, for the simple reason that Herod had no
power of life and death in Jerusalem, and Pilate soon had his Prisoner
on his hands again. Next he clutched at the custom of releasing a
prisoner during the feast. Here was a chance for letting off Jesus
without declaring Him innocent. But this suggestion was hopeless. If
the Jews were set on effecting the death of Jesus, they would not give
up their right to choose their prisoners to be released, and take at
the dictation of Pilate the very man they wanted to have done to death.
They clamoured for an insurgent, Barabbas, a man caught red-handed in
the very crime for which these hypocrites professed in their
new-fledged loyalty to Caesar to be anxious to have Jesus executed.
The cynicism of their choice is palpable. By daring to make it, they
show in what contempt they hold Pilate. The governor loses ground
considerably by this false move. Then he tries to throw the blame of
the murder of Jesus, which he sees he cannot prevent, on the Jews. A
new motive urges him to escape from the responsibility of committing a
judicial murder. His wife had sent a private message warning him to
"_have nothing to do with that righteous man_." She had been much
disturbed by a dream about him. Romans were slaves to omens and
auguries, and the most materialistic of them felt some awe of dreams,
although they had lost faith in real religion. Your confirmed sceptic
is often slavishly superstitious in the secret of his soul. It is a
way the spiritual has of avenging itself on the man who openly flouts
it. Boldly flung out of the window, it creeps back into the cellar and
vexes the soul with petty tricks played on the subterranean
consciousness. The man who expels his good angel is haunted by imps
and elves. He who will not believe in God and despises truth succumbs
to the message of a dream.

More anxious now than ever to escape responsibility, Pilate calls for
water and publicly washes his hands, telling the Jews that the innocent
blood will be on their heads. They accept the awful responsibility.
What do they care for the weak Roman's scruples? He is doing their
will, and of course no hand-washing can cleanse his conscience from the
stain of guilty compliance.

Yet one thing more Pilate will do. He will scourge Jesus. Perhaps
that may satisfy th