Pilate says to him, What is truth? And having said this he went out again to the Jews, and says to them, I find no fault whatever in him.
Pilate ends his talk with the Prisoner by tossing out a question and walking away before Jesus can answer. In the same breath he gives the only honest verdict of the whole trial. Commentators press two points here: what it means to ask about truth while Truth stands in front of you, and what it means to call the Prisoner innocent and then hand Him over anyway.
The question was not asked into empty air. One writer puts Pilate's question next to the Lord's own words and calls it a missed chance.
Pilate's question, so often asked before and since, shows that the world is utterly ignorant of the truth, and this because it is ignorant of the true God... What an opportunity Pilate missed! He asked, "What is truth?" and there before his eyes was Him who had said, "I am… the truth." Such is man in his greatness! Such is the world in its ignorance of God and His truth!
The clue to Pilate's state is not the question but what he did next — he broke off and left.
We may not know exactly what was in the Roman Governor's mind when he asked that question, but his actions show us his attitude to it. He broke off at this point. If he had really wanted to know the truth, an answer would have come from Him who came into the world to bear witness to the truth. If anything but indifference or scepticism had prompted the question, he would surely have waited for that answer. Attitude to the truth and attitude to Christ are much the same.
The Lord's previous sentence had already offered him a way past his own scepticism.
Yet here was a word that could get behind even such defences. If he did not know what truth was, he could at least know whether he was "of" it. And if a man must be true in order to know truth, maybe that lack was what made truth seem out of reach.
Pilate sat as judge. Finding the truth was his job, not an optional extra.
Pilate held the judge's authority, so his job was to find the truth and judge by it. But he asked, "What is truth?" in a flippant, sceptical tone. That showed how, in his mind, judgment had been cut off from righteousness. As a Roman judge he knew far too much about men and their lies, and he felt that chasing truth was chasing a mirage. That did not excuse his folly. The moment he asked his question, he turned his back on Christ and went out to the lying Jews.
The second half of the verse is Pilate's legal finding. Older translations word it "I find no fault in him."
Pilate questioned Jesus briefly, and his judgment was quick and sure. It was the only one he could have given, for so far there was no evidence of any crime and no charge against Him. So, as the man who administered Roman law, he told the impatient, waiting Jews, "I find no fault in Him at all." If that meant anything, it meant acquittal — the Prisoner released at once and the crowd sent away.
Instead of acting on his own verdict, Pilate looked for a way out.
In that case his only duty was to release Him. But instead of giving in to his conscience, he tries to strike a deal with it. Looking for what seems to him an escape from a hard situation, he puts the whole matter into the people's hands. So he makes it almost impossible to return to the right path he has left, and he openly declares himself to be not of the truth.
The religious leaders had already made their decision. Now the ruling power of the nations takes its turn, and the verse records the result.
The religious leaders of the Jewish nation having rejected Christ, the political leaders of the Gentiles are now put to the test. The blessed Lord is led before Pilate, with the result that government, which had been given to the Gentiles for the praise of that which is good, and the execution of judgment upon him that does evil (Romans 13:4), is used to condemn One in Whom, it is confessed, no fault can be found.
Pilate's finding also became one of several unlikely witnesses to Christ's perfection.
What do you think of the moral and spiritual state of a world that can refuse the threefold testimony then given to Jesus, the Man of Sorrows? Pilate says, "I find no fault in him"; the thief says, "This man has done nothing wrong"; the centurion says, "Certainly this was a righteous man." But He is crucified!
People still ask Pilate's question, and one writer names the tell-tale sign.
Pilate's saying, "What is truth?" showed he did not know what truth was. It is just what unbelievers say now. Their minds are always "open to truth," as they say, and that shows one clear thing — they do not have any... And if I have truth, I show my love of truth by keeping it.
- Truth present. Pilate asked what truth was while the One who said "I am the truth" stood in front of him — the answer was in the room.
- Truth dodged. He walked out before an answer could come. His leaving, not his words, showed indifference or doubt — and attitude to truth is attitude to Christ.
- Truth confessed. He found no fault. That was the only verdict the evidence allowed, and it meant the Prisoner should have gone free at once.
- Truth betrayed. He compromised with his conscience instead of obeying it, pushed the decision onto the crowd, and so showed he was not "of the truth."
- Truth vindicated. The judge, the thief and the centurion all said the same thing: the One they crucified was faultless.
But ye have a custom that I release [some] one to you at the passover; will ye therefore that I release unto you the king of the Jews?
Pilate has just told the crowd outside his palace that he finds no guilt in Jesus. Instead of setting Him free, he reaches for a local custom and offers the people a choice. The offer sounds generous. But it hands a judge's duty to a mob, and it forces the nation to say out loud what it thinks of its King.
After the verdict of "no guilt," one action remained: release. Pilate took a different road:
Something, at least, makes Pilate uneasy. He does not wait for an answer, but goes off to the crowd to declare that he can find no fault with Jesus. In that case his business was only to release Him. But he seeks a compromise with his conscience instead of yielding to it. It looks to him like a way out of a difficult situation, so he puts the whole matter into the people's hands. This makes it almost impossible for him to return to the path of righteousness he has left. He shows plainly that he is not of the truth.
Pilate dresses the offer up as a favour to the nation. His real motive was self-protection:
But Pilate cared more about his standing at Rome than about justice. He had insulted these Jews in cruel and hurtful ways several times of late. They were quite capable of appealing to Caesar against him. It might be shrewd to appease them, and here was the chance. He would fall in with one of their fiercely guarded customs. It was the great Feast, and they had been demanding that he release a prisoner to them, as usual. He would pretend to oblige them and release "the King of the Jews," if that was their wish. Surely they would not hesitate to choose between Jesus and Barabbas.
Notice what the custom itself assumed about the prisoner:
It was the Roman custom to release one prisoner at the Passover, and the Jews could choose which one. This practice assumed the prisoner was guilty. So the custom should never have applied to the Lord Jesus at all. But Pilate went against justice and let the Jews choose between Jesus and Barabbas, a rebel and a murderer.
Pilate's plan failed, and commentators see God's hand in that failure:
The last two verses of this chapter show us another try by Pilate to get out. They also show a fateful choice by the people: Barabbas — Satan's counterfeit "son of the father." Their choice confirms the people's guilt. But the other side is that God watches over the scene. He makes sure His Son is not released as a guilty but pardoned criminal, but rather condemned as innocent.
Pilate expected an easy answer. Instead the choice held up a mirror:
His duty, therefore, is plain. Justice demands the release of an innocent man. But personal interest urged Pilate to stay on good terms with the Jews. So he tries again to avoid condemning an innocent man and to please the Jews at the same time. He falls back on a custom that set a prisoner free at the Passover. Custom or no custom, Pilate's plain duty as a judge is to release One in whom he finds no fault. The compromise fails. Worse, it shows how deep the evil of the Jewish nation had gone… Such is the evil of our hearts. However much we may dislike a murderer and a thief, apart from the grace of God we will choose him over Christ. We choose the one who takes life rather than the One who gives life.
The custom fell at the feast of redemption. One man walked out of prison free that day:
We see Barabbas here as a chief of sinners, a rebel and a murderer. For him the feast of redemption offers a possible release — but only, by Pilate's offer, if Jesus is given up. Jesus becomes, as it were, the Substitute for the chief of sinners. To "release Barabbas" is "to destroy Jesus." Why? Because He has done evil? The judge asks in vain — where is it? Look deeper than the wicked wills of men. In the purpose of God we may see that holy Sin-offering, the true Passover. By it even a Barabbas may be delivered — not for any good in him, for Barabbas shows none. Barabbas is released; Jesus is given up.
- Duty — Pilate had already said he found no fault. Justice then required one thing only: release.
- Compromise — instead of obeying his conscience, he bargains with it. He hands the decision to the crowd and shuts his own way back to righteousness.
- Custom — the Passover release assumed a guilty prisoner. Offering it to Jesus was unjust in itself: He needed no pardon.
- Choice — the question sounds easy, yet it exposes the human heart. Apart from grace we prefer the man who takes life to the One who gives it.
- Substitute — Pilate's failed escape route served God's purpose. The Son was not freed as a pardoned criminal but condemned as innocent. So a guilty man went free at the feast of redemption.
They cried therefore again all, saying, Not this [man], but Barabbas. Now Barabbas was a robber.
Pilate wanted to be rid of the responsibility, so he offered the crowd the usual Passover release and set two prisoners side by side. Their answer took five words. It shows what the human heart prefers — and what God did with that choice.
The name they shouted has a meaning of its own, and one commentator draws out what their demand exposed.
Pilate suggests a way out of the difficulty: the usual release of a prisoner at the feast. He offers to let their King go. But this only draws out the depth of their hatred, and they all cry out: … "Not this man, but Barabbas." Now, Barabbas, as the Gospel writer adds, was a robber. So the Jews chose Satan's "son of the father" — that is what the name means. How clear it is that a man who rejects Jesus is Satan's slave!
John does not argue with the crowd. He records what kind of man they preferred, and what that cry set in motion.
Five words were enough to express their utter rejection of the Lord — "Not this Man, but Barabbas." They were completely unanimous, for this was the cry of all. The Gospel writer's comment is just as short, also packed into five words: "Now Barabbas was a robber." Without exaggeration we may call this cry the most fateful in all history. It has controlled the course of the world for nearly two thousand years and will finally seal its doom… They demanded Barabbas, the robber, who was also a revolutionary and a murderer, as other Gospels show.
It would be a mistake to read the shout as admiration for the prisoner they named. The crowd was answering a different question than the one about Barabbas.
Pilate has the Son of God on his hands, and would gladly be rid of the heavy responsibility. He fell back on the custom of releasing a prisoner at the Passover. He brought out Barabbas, murderer and robber, and told the crowd to choose between him and Jesus. Urged on by their religious chiefs, the people shouted "Not this Man, but Barabbas." The question this time was: "Whom will you RECEIVE?" Sadly, anyone but Jesus was welcome. It is not that the crowd had the smallest regard for Barabbas; the point was that they did not want Jesus.
The crowd's preference tells us something about everyone, not only about them.
If we want a perfect standard by which to measure the world, to measure the human heart, to measure sin, we must look at the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ… Man preferred a robber and murderer to Christ. By that he proved that he would rather have robbery and murder than light and love. The cross shows this enormous fact so clearly that it leaves not the shadow of a question.
People still make the same choice today, under names that look nothing like a first-century bandit.
That is exactly where the world is today… They want to have happiness without Him. Forms and ceremonies are an advantage to them. They can profit by such things, and will go in for them to any extent — the more of them the better. But Christ is not wanted, and He is not welcome. "Not this Man, but Barabbas."… You have your Barabbas in some shape or form. But it is the very contrast to Jesus Christ, the very opposite to Him. The Barabbas of today is no doubt different in character from the Barabbas of former days. But then or now, the world's choice is not Christ.
There is a second story inside the crowd's cry. One prisoner went home that day; the other did not.
"Even in this last scene, Jesus delivers others at His own cost, and in every sense. A moment earlier He had kept the disciples from being arrested. Now He is the means of setting Barabbas free, wicked as he was. He never saved Himself. It was the very perfection of the moral glory of Christ to deliver, bless and save, and to do it all at His own expense." (W. Kelly) Barabbas went free, though guilty and condemned, because the Lord Jesus took his place. Christ was his substitute. Once free, Barabbas might have looked up to Him who hung on the cross and said, "He died for me; He paid my penalty." It is a wonderful illustration of the atonement.
- The choice. Two men stood side by side, and the crowd was unanimous. One writer calls those five words the most fateful cry in all history.
- The refusal. They had no regard for Barabbas. The real question was whom they would receive — and anyone but Jesus was welcome.
- The exposure. Choosing a robber over Christ proved that man would rather have robbery and murder than light and love. The cross measures the human heart.
- The exchange. The guilty prisoner walked free because Christ took his place. That is the atonement, acted out in public.
- The echo. Today's Barabbas wears other names, even religious ones. The world's choice is still not Christ. What is yours?