The Stations of The Cross - Fifth Station
Jesus judged by PilateMark 15: 14,15
I ask, who would choose to govern the Jews?
When it meant my arising early at three,
To receive their high priest in full panoply.
Expecting me to ratify their charge,
Against this man Jesus – a blasphemous
Preacher, he’d accused of spreading dissent.
To get to the truth, I decided I would
Examine the prisoner by myself; to
See if he was a threat to Rome, or was
It another one of their religious feuds?
When brought in, I got my first look at him.
And for a Jew, he did impress me, so
I began to question to him in Greek,
On the charges laid against him, mainly,
Claiming to be the long-awaited Messiah,
Which I took, to be as some type of king.
He claimed his kingdom was not of this world,
He had been born into the world, so he
Could witness to, and bring all, to the truth.
That only begged my question – what is truth?
This seemed a question about religion,
And more to do with their peculiar god.
And I could find no evidence for sedition.
But the priest claimed he’d been preaching rebellion,
To Jerusalem, from his home in Galilee.
Which being under Herod’s rule, it was to
His court he would go to submit his plea.
Herod soon sent him back, as he was born
In Bethlehem, a town now under me.
Then came the last act, the road to Calvary.
I was determined to have this man released,
After being flogged, to teach him some caution.
But Caiaphas soon objected – being not pleased,
As it did not appease the Sanhedrin.
So, I invoked the Passover custom,
By which one prisoner could be reprieved,
Which should satisfy the crowd, waiting outside,
For that willy priest and his followers.
I offered them Jesus, as their King, but
It was for Barabbas the thief, they cried.
Determined as I was, to have my way,
Against that rabble, it did not signify –
We have no king but Caesar, was the cry!
Given such a choice I could not proceed
To free this man, even though I ought to.
I could not prevail, the die was now cast,
The mob had but one voice – to crucify!
Before I signed, I called for water,
To wash my hands of his guilt; and above
His cross I had put: ‘The King of the Jews’.
My wife had dreamt about that man Jesus,
With a warning, for me to avoid his case.
And though we have since left that land,
She still has a dream that links both our names:
A vision – of voices calling; to him
As to a god, but against me, in infamy.
Images from Wikimedia Commons: Jörn Droemann.
© D G Moody 2023
Poetry by D G Moody
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Written on 2023-04-08 at 17:05
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