owledged Him to be, was He
entitled to be set free; and His silence called upon Pilate to act on
this acknowledgment.

The judge was more than ever astonished; and he was irritated a little
at being thus treated. "Speakest Thou not unto me?" he asked,
flushing; "knowest Thou not that I have power to crucify Thee and have
power to release Thee?" Poor man! it was to be seen before many
minutes had passed how much power he had. And what was this power of
which he boasted? He spoke as if he had arbitrary discretion to do
whatever he pleased. No just judge would make such a claim: justice
takes from him the power to follow his own inclination if it be unjust.
It was of this Jesus reminded him when He now answered with quiet
dignity, "Thou couldest have no power at all against Me, unless it were
given thee from above." [2] He reminds him that the power he wields is
delegated by Heaven, and therefore not to be used according to his own
caprice, but according to the dictates of justice. Yet He added,
"Therefore he that delivered Me unto thee hath the greater sin." He
acknowledged that Pilate was in a position in which he was compelled to
try the case: he had not taken it up at his own hand, as the Jewish
authorities had done.

Thus Jesus recognised all the difficulties of His judge's position and
was willing to make for him every allowance. This was He whom Pilate
had, a few minutes before, given over to torture. Was there ever such
sublime and unselfish clemency? Could there have been a more complete
triumph over resentment and irritation? If the silence of Christ was
sublime, no less sublime, when He did speak, were His words.

III.

Pilate felt the greatness and the magnanimity of his Prisoner, and came
forth determined at all hazards to set Him free. The Jews saw it in
his face. And at length they brought out their last weapon, which they
had been keeping in reserve and Pilate had been fearing all the time:
they threatened to complain against him to the emperor; for this was
the meaning of what they now cried: "If thou let this man go, thou art
not Caesar's friend: whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against
Caesar."

There was nothing which a Roman provincial governor so much dreaded as
a complaint lodged against him at Rome. And in Pilate's case such an
accusation, for more reasons than one, would have been specially
perilous. The imperial throne was occupied at the time by one who was
a most