Epilogue
Pilate could never know it—he would have been astounded to know it—but, apparently insignificant ex-prefect that he was, his would eventually be the most familiar name in all of Roman history. For uncounted masses in future ages, who knew little about a Caesar or Augustus or even Nero, would still confess in The Creed: “I believe in Jesus Christ…who…suffered under Pontius Pilate.”
Many would remember Pilate only in horror from that clause as the man who killed Christ. They would invent the most terrifying, and certainly imaginative, punishments for him: torture, exile, insanity, compulsive hand-washing, suicide, drowning, decapitation, being swallowed by the earth, and even that ancient punishment for parricide—being sewn up in an ox-skin with a cock, a viper, and a monkey, and pitched into a river. Medieval legends would add the familiar stories of his restless corpse, accompanied by squads of demons, disrupting localities from Vienne in France to Mount Pilatus in Switzerland, causing storms, earthquakes, and other havoc.
On the basis of the earliest sources, however, it is clear that nothing of the sort ever happened to Pilate, let alone his corpse. The early Christian church understood “suffered under Pontius Pilate” not in the sense of blame so much as for purposes of historical documentation and chronology. Much subsequent Lenten preaching to the contrary, one of the earliest church fathers claimed that Pilate “was already a Christian in his conscience.” Greek Orthodoxy canonized his wife. To this day, October 27 is Saint Procula’s Day in their calendar, while the Ethiopian church recognizes June 25 as “Saint Pilate and Saint Procula’s Day.”
Sinner or saint, cosmic blunderer or expedient functionary, Roman prefect or instrument of the Divine, Pontius Pilate—beyond any debate—would become one of the very controversial figures in history.
Historical Note
All major episodes in this book are historical and have been documented in the Notes below. Aside from the familiar role of Pilate at the trial and crucifixion of Jesus, such principal events as his involvement in the standards affair, the aqueduct construction and riot, the episode of the golden shields, the clash with the Samaritans, and his recall are all attested by ancient sources, notably Josephus and Philo. Archaeology has supplied additional data concerning his construction of the Tiberiéum and the coinage he minted in Judea.
As for coinage, there is no evidence that Pilate issued any coins during his first years in Judea. But in 29 A.D., he minted bronze quadrans pieces embossed with the simpulum, a sacred ladle used for Roman sacrifices. Since the simpulum was widely used on coinage throughout the Empire, this may have been a small attempt on Pilate’s part to Romanize Judea. Later, in 30–31 A.D., perhaps under pressure from Sejanus, Pilate issued the coin shown below featuring a lituus, the curving, spiral-headed staff symbolizing the priestly-prophetic office of the Roman augur. Thoroughly embedded in Rome’s past—this crosier was used in consecrating the early kings of Rome—the lituus motif was in general vogue on imperial coins at that time. Pilate’s using a symbol freighted with such a Roman mystique on quadrans pieces minted in Judea appears to be a further Romanizing pledge of provincial allegiance to Tiberius and the Empire.
Left: The lituus is at the center of the obverse, and the lettering is Greek: “TIBERIOU KAISAROS,” (“of Tiberius Caesar”). Right: In the left fringe of the reverse are berries, while “LIZ” within the wreath indicates the “17th” year of Tiberius’s reign, i.e., 30–31 A.D.
Paradoxically, the pagan Pontius Pilate embossed what would shortly become a Christian symbol on his coins, since the lituus would be reused as the crosier or bishop’s crook, the symbol of episcopal office to the present day.
This novel’s portrayal of the politics, Roman and Judean, in which Pilate was engulfed is absolutely authentic. Some of the connective material, however, was contrived, but done so on the basis of probabilities with no violation of known historical facts. Because of missing evidence, some relationships were necessarily presumed. The true family gens of Procula is unknown, and even her name comes only from a very early tradition, the Acta Pilati in the so-called Gospel of Nicodemus. Procula’s is the only proper name in this book not attested by an original primary source, but no other name for her is known, and Procula is most probably accurate. Since the name “Claudia Procula” derives from a late tradition, “Claudia” is discarded.
The precise relationship of Pontius Pilate to the various Pontii cited in these pages is presumptive, but members of the gens Pontius would indeed be related, and the ancestral home of the Pontii was Samnium. Nothing is known of Pilate’s parents. His presence at the collapse of The Grotto is merely assumed, though his advancement through Sejanus’s efforts is demonstrable. Even if the letters cited in these pages are not authentic, as such, the correspondence itself and the sentiments expressed are highly probable. Indeed, some of the phrases in the letters are direct citations from the sources.
Pilate’s trip to Machaerus with Antipas is possible, but not documented. His contact with Cornelius is highly probable, since both were Roman officers in Caesarea at the same time. It is not known if Pilate ever conversed with Saul (St. Paul), Herod Agrippa, or Caligula. Finally, his friendship with Cassius Chaerea is based only on the inference that Pilate did rise in office through the Praetorian Guard, where he would have known Chaerea as a fellow tribune.
As indicated, there is an interesting divergence of opinion concerning the fate of Pontius Pilate. Aside from Tiberius’s dying before he could hear his case, the original sources tell us nothing. The traditional negative view that Pilate committed suicide has been common ever since the church historian Eusebius. In his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius wrote:
…tradition relates that…Pilate, he of the Saviour’s time, in the days of Gaius…fell into such great calamity that he was forced to become his own slayer and to punish himself with his own hand, for the penalty of God, as it seems, followed hard after him. Those who record the Olympiads of the Greeks with the annals of events relate this.
(ii, 7. Kirsopp Lake’s translation in Loeb Classical Library)
However, no extant records, Greek or otherwise, confirm this statement, and Eusebius himself calls it tradition. Indeed, in his Chronicon Eusebius cites “the Roman historians” rather than the Greek as his source for the same statement, indicating that he had trouble documenting Pilate’s presumed suicide (ed. Migne, XIX, 538). Moreover, Eusebius’s motivation in recording the tradition of Pilate’s suicide is less that of a critical historian and more that of an apologist and moralist in describing divine vengeance as overtaking Pilate. Finally, Eusebius was writing in the fourth century A.D., and there is considerably earlier evidence than this.
When the noted pagan philosopher Celsus wrote his Logos Alethes (True Word) in 178 A.D., one of the arguments he used against Christianity was the fact that, unlike King Pentheus, Pilate suffered nothing for having condemned alleged divinity. In 248 A.D., the early church father Origen published his refutation Kata Kelsou (Against Celsus), but against Celsus’s argument concerning Pilate’s fate Origen replied only that the Jews, not Pilate, were responsible for the crucifixion (ii, 34). Clearly, there was no church tradition of Pilate’s suicide, execution, or punishment in the second or third centuries.