Journal of Late Antiquity

Introduction

Only three people are named in the major early Christian creeds: Jesus Christ, Mary, and Pontius Pilate. Early Christian authors were fascinated by this figure; due to his equivocal presentation in the Gospels, they generated a range of interpretations of him.¹ If we restrict our attention to those authors who wrote under the Roman empire, however, the dominant interpretation is positive and apologetic. We repeatedly meet a Pilate who may have been weak, but one who was not evil and who attempted to release Christ as innocent. Some went further, arguing that the Roman governor had recognized Jesus's divinity and so had become—in a sense—a proto-Christian.

The pre-Constantinian roots of this idea are relatively well-known, fitting into a traditional scholarly assumption that apologetics served the function of [End Page 3] advertising Christianity in a palatable way to outsiders. The idea that Pilate viewed Jesus as innocent was therefore valuable propaganda in the argument against persecution. The continuation of pro-Pilate Christian literature in the late empire has however been comparatively neglected—partly because it questions the above assumption. Those who recognize the post-Constantinian tradition suggest a range of motivations, all of which see Pilate himself as a secondary concern. He was, it is argued, merely a chronological marker to fix Christ's death historically;² he was a mirror-image to highlight the betrayal of the Jews in giving Jesus up;³ he was a stand-in for "the nations" to whom the mantle of Israel would soon pass.⁴

Focusing on the extensive portrayal of Pontius Pilate found in the Gospel homilies of John Chrysostom—presbyter of Antioch, bishop of Constantinople, and supposed arch-opponent of earthly authorities⁵—I suggest instead an interpretation which puts Pilate himself front-and-center. Pilate was presented positively by early Christian authors because it was embarrassing for them that Christ should have been put to death by a Roman authority as a revolutionary. Early Christians—themselves Roman subjects—wanted to believe that Christianity and Romanness were fundamentally congruent, and they were attracted to historical examples which demonstrated this. Pilate represented the programmatic, foundational proof of this idea.

This has several implications. Firstly, it suggests that we need to take the Roman identities of Christian authors—both pre- and post-Constantine—more seriously to understand their approach to earthly authority. Secondly, we should nuance our approach to the political rhetoric of Christian polemicists like Chrysostom, who supposedly valued ecclesiastical power above all else. Thirdly, we should be more alive to the continuation of Christian apologetics into the late empire and its similarity to pre-Constantinian expression. Because—as Chrysostom's self-evidently Christian focused rhetoric shows us—the principal aim of such material is not to convince non-Christian hearers of the benign and superior nature of Christianity. Rather, it seeks to re-assure Christians themselves—who were also Romans—that they had a legitimate, and even exalted place in imperial society and history.

My argument proceeds in three sections. Section I demonstrates that apologetic interpretations of Pilate intensified in Late Antiquity rather than withered away. Section II introduces Chrysostom's homilies and explores [End Page 4] their remarkably detailed and positive portrait of Pilate. Finally, Section III connects this positive portrayal to Chrysostom's broader discussions of earthly authority and to a real-life episode in which he felt embarrassment in front of a Roman governor, making the case that the motivations suggested for Chrysostom can equally be applied to the similar material explored in Section I.

I. Pilate in Early Christian Literature

The primary source material with which early Christian authors were working was the New Testament Gospels. Each of the canonical Gospels attempts to shift the blame for the death of Jesus from Pilate to Jewish elements. Mark—the earliest and briefest account—shows Pilate recognizing that the chief priests handed Jesus over out of jealousy (διὰ φθόνον) and asking the crowd "what evil has he done?" (Mark 15.14).⁶ Matthew presents a similar picture, adding Pilate's wife's warning not to harm Jesus, and shows the governor washing his hands and declaring that he is "innocent" of Jesus' blood (Matt 27.19, 24–25). He contextualizes Pilate's condemnation of Jesus by saying he realized a riot was about to occur. Luke's Pilate explicitly tells the chief priests that he finds Jesus innocent (Luke 23.4), repeating this to the crowd outside the praetorium (23.14–16, 22). Luke also transfers the mockery of Jesus by the Roman cohort (as in Mark 15.16–20 and Matt 27.27–30) to the Herodian soldiery (Luke 23.11).⁷ The synoptics therefore display a progressive pro-Romanness and desire to narrate the governor's belief in Christ's innocence.

John displays many similar impulses. Though he has Roman troops arresting (18.12) and mocking (19.3–4) Jesus, he gives us the most detailed portrait of Pilate in the New Testament. Pilate wants the Jews to deal with Jesus themselves, but they refuse (18.29–31). John constructs a metaphysical distinction between the inside of the praetorium—inhabited only by Jesus and Pilate—and the exterior, where the crowd bays for blood; Pilate transitions repeatedly between these spaces,⁸ speaking with Jesus about his spiritual kingdom in the one (18.36), and negotiating with the hostile crowd for his release in the other (18.38–39, 19.4). Convinced that Jesus possesses some special power (19.12), John's Pilate only relents when the crowd suggests he will not be a friend of Caesar if he releases the prisoner; on extracting a [End Page 5] pledge of loyalty from the mob (19.12–15), he condemns Christ. He is handed over to "them" for crucifixion.⁹

Each of the Gospels mentions the inscription on the cross, recording the charge against Jesus. John alone specifies that Pilate had it written, accurately calls it a τίτλος (Latin titulus), and says it rendered the phrase "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew.¹⁰ John has the chief priests protest and ask that Pilate instead write "This man said, 'I am king of the Jews,'" but Pilate replies, "What I have written, I have written" (19.21–22). John therefore agrees with the synoptics in outlines but adds new details such as his involvement with the titulus and his discourses with Jesus.

In post-New Testament literature, many references to Pilate are credal mentions: Christ was crucified ἐπὶ Ποντίου Πιλάτου or sub Pontio Pilato.¹¹ But his ambiguous presentation in the Gospels left the door open for more imaginative retellings too—particularly to those who wished to elaborate on his supposed belief that Christ was innocent and possibly even divine. The idea that some judicial record or letter was sent to Tiberius by Pilate concerning Jesus is mentioned by Justin Martyr (1 Apol. 35.5, 48.3); by Tertullian, who goes as far as to say that Pilate became Christian (Apol. 5.2, 21.24); and by Eusebius (HE 2.2.2–4).¹² Several accounts present Pilate as innocent of Jesus's condemnation, blaming the Jews instead.¹³ Other texts focus particularly on Pilate's handwashing in Matthew as symbolizing the passage of guilt from the governor to the Jews.¹⁴ Pilate's name was also mobilized by those on the other side of the "debate": Eusebius tells us that Maximinus Daia, persecutor of the Christians, forged his own memoirs (ὑπομνήματα) of Pilate full of slanders against Christ (HE 1.9, 9.5).¹⁵ Afterwards, we also begin to see Christian documents which purport to represent the report sent from Pilate to Tiberius.¹⁶ [End Page 6]

From this point, however, traditional approaches see a turning point. On the view that such expressions were externally directed apologies which sought to convince non-Christians of Christianity's benign nature, Winter and Brandon chart the intensity of pro-Pilate statements as correlated with the intensity of persecution. However, from Eusebius and Constantine onwards, such arguments are no longer required: "because he was no longer useful as an official Roman witness to the innocence … of Jesus, Christians began to look more critically at him."¹⁷ After Eusebius, "the current takes a sharp turn in the opposite direction, and Pilate's fortunes in Christian tradition enter upon a steep decline."¹⁸

While it is true that negative stories about Pilate begin to appear in later periods—for example, narrating his suicide (mentioned already by Eusebius) or execution by avenging emperors¹⁹—it is not correct to say that positive interpretations disappear with Constantine's victory. Indeed, if anything, they become more insistent. Pilate's handwashing as symbolising gentile innocence is described by Jerome (Comm. in Matt. 4.27.24) and Ambrose, though he does not absolve Pilate (Expos. in Luc. 10.97–101). Commenting on the titulus in John, Augustine has Pilate as a representative of the nations, declaring his faith in Jesus's Messiahship (Serm. 201.2, 218.7).²⁰ He elsewhere argues it is a greater sin to give up an innocent man for punishment than for the judge to carry out said punishment (In Evang. Iohan. 115.5), and argues Pilate tried to release Jesus (In Evang. Iohan. 115.5).²¹ Cyril of Jerusalem counts Pilate as a witness for Christ's innocence (Cat. 13.13), while Cyril of Alexandria argues that Pilate condemned Jesus despite believing him innocent because he was legitimately worried about provincial sedition (Comm. in Ioh. 12). Such ideas are common too in the apocryphal Pilate literature of Late Antiquity: for example, the Gospel of Nicodemus²²—referred to in later (Latin) recensions as the Acts of Pilate²³—presents a Pilate ranged against Jesus's Jewish [End Page 7] accusers, to the extent that they label him a disciple of Jesus (Acta Pil. 5.2).²⁴ In the Paradosis of Pilate, Tiberius recalls Pilate and executes him for deicide; before death, Pilate proclaims his innocence, blames the Jews (Para. Pil. 3), and begs God for forgiveness (9). A voice comes from heaven, declaring that Pilate will stand by Christ's side at his second coming, and he—and his wife—depart to heaven (10).²⁵

The idea that positive interpretations of Pilate disappear after Constantine is therefore incorrect.²⁶ Arguably, "apologetic" approaches to Pilate are even more insistent in the late empire. In order to investigate why this should be, I wish to focus on a single author who treats the character of Pilate in unique detail: the indomitable Antiochene presbyter and later archbishop of Constantinople, John Chrysostom.

II. Chrysostom's New Testament Homilies: Pilate the Catechumen

John Chrysostom (ὁ Χρυσόστομος, "the Golden-mouthed"), was a fiery Antiochene preacher and later bishop of Constantinople. Likely the son of a middling imperial official (a member of the officium of the magister militum per Orientem), he initially trained to serve as a clerk in the sacra scrinia, the imperial secretariat which drafted legislation.²⁷ He therefore came from a successful family, though not from the truly landed elite (Joh. Chrys. de Sac. 1.2, 1.5), and received a good education—including rhetorical instruction from Libanius, professor of rhetoric at Antioch (Soc. 6.3; Soz. 8.2).²⁸ He abandoned his secular pursuits to enter church service, becoming an assistant to the Nicene Bishop Meletius at a time when that faction was imperially disfavored. After a monastic interlude and with Nicene Christianity again triumphant, he was promoted deacon in 381 and ordained presbyter by Bishop Flavian in 386.²⁹ [End Page 8] Between 386 and 397 he preached many hundreds of sermons to his congregation in Antioch which contained a broad cross-section of fourth-century society, many of which have survived.³⁰ In 397, he was made archbishop of Constantinople, but his public feuding with the empress Eudoxia culminated in his double deposition in 403 and 404 (Soc. 6.15–16, 18), and in 407 he died en route to exile at Pityus, on the Black Sea (Soc. 6.21).³¹

Of interest here is Chrysostom's attitude to the Roman state, or his "political philosophy." In his monumental study of early Christian political philosophy, Francis Dvornik argued that while Chrysostom possessed no systematic theory of political power and responded to situations singly, he was supportive of the emperor's position and authority, utilized traditional Graeco-Roman political principles, and followed Eusebius in divining a commonality of purpose between the Christian church and the Pax Romana, of which the principal historical illustration was Constantine. On the other hand, partly due to his turbulent relationship with real-life Roman rulers, he supported the "spiritual superiority" of the Christian priesthood over secular rulers in his later works.³² More recently, it has been emphasized that, in fact, it is Chrysostom's earliest texts which are most strident in their presentation of sacerdotal superiority.³³ Stephens has gone so far as to argue that Chrysostom possessed a well-developed and consistent political theory, maintained throughout his career as presbyter and bishop, asserting the authority of ecclesiasts over imperial rulers.³⁴ Several scholars have highlighted Chrysostom's criticism of particular Roman institutions, for example concerning family and property law.³⁵ Constantine Bozinis' study of Chrysostom's attitude to the Roman empire highlighted the conspicuous absence of imperial institutions [End Page 9] from much of his work, in favor of the structures of the city and church; against his understanding of Dvornik's position, Bozinis suggests that Chrysostom rejected Eusebius's "Caesaro-papism."³⁶ Recent work, therefore, seems to have adopted a more negative view of Chrysostom's attitude to earthly powers. The remarkably positive portrait of Pilate discussed in this article, however, seems to suggest a political identity—and a view of history—more in keeping with Dvornik's portrait.

I wish to focus on the ways in which John Chrysostom deals with Pilate in two homiletic cycles: his Homilies on Matthew and his Homilies on John, delivered at Antioch in 390 and 391 ce, respectively.³⁷ While there are some differences in the portrait of the Roman governor between the two, occasioned by the source texts and the overarching aims of the series, there are also clear similarities. In both cycles, Chrysostom shifts the blame for Christ's death from Pilate to the Jews. However, there is a progressive movement toward proclaiming Pilate's innocence from the Homilies on Matthew to the later Homilies on John.

We begin with Matthew.

Chrysostom characterizes the court of the Sanhedrin which initially finds Jesus guilty of blasphemy as a sham trial (In Matt. Hom. 84.2). He thinks that the high priests did have the ability to put Jesus to death themselves—for which he adduces Pilate's statement, "Take him and judge him according to your law," actually from John's Gospel (, John 18.31)—but that wishing his condemnation to be witnessed far and wide, they made use of a Roman trial and execution (In Matt. Hom. 84.3). We meet Pilate himself when Jesus is brought before him. Chrysostom tells us that, upon seeing that their charges of blasphemy had no purchase with the Roman governor, the priests switched their attack to a political one, that he aimed at tyranny (τυραννίς, In Matt. Hom. 86.1). But Pilate was unconvinced.

So what does Pilate say? "Do you not hear how many things they witness against you?" For he wished that, having defended himself, Jesus should be set free , on which account he said this. But since Jesus did not reply, he devises something else (In Matt. Hom. 86.1; PG 58: 764).³⁸ [End Page 10]

Here, Chrysostom begins his portrait of a Pilate who is unconvinced of Jesus's guilt and anxious that he should defend himself and be set free—but is stymied by Christ's silence. This forces Pilate to adopt a new device, the Passover prisoner release. Chrysostom uses the verb μηχανάομαι, "to devize by cunning." The governor is scheming towards Jesus's release, actively interested in his safety. He goes to the crowd and offers to let Jesus go free on account of the Passover: "he tried to save him (αὐτὸν ἐξελέσθαι ἐπεχείρησεν)."

Do you see how normal order is reversed ? For it was the custom for the petition (αἴτησις) on behalf of the condemned to belong to the people, while the granting (δόσις) belonged to the governor (ἄρχων). But now the opposite occurs: for the governor petitions the people . But even so they are not mollified, but become more savage and murderous, excited to Bacchic frenzy (ἐκβακχευόμενοι) by a passion for envy (βασκανία) (In Matt. Hom. 86.1; PG 58: 764).

Chrysostom develops several important strands of his interpretation of the trial of Jesus here. Firstly, he highlights Pilate's anxiousness to secure Jesus's release, drawing attention to the atypicality of a governor petitioning the people. By lingering on the reversal of the normal order, he suggests Pilate's individual and singular efforts, the one party actively seeking to release Jesus. At the same time, this role reversal hints at the weakness of Pilate's position, and perhaps of his character. A governor petitioning the people is not normal for good reason—a ruler (ἄρχων) should rule. Thus, Chrysostom begins to sow the seeds for an explanation as to how Jesus ended up on a cross, despite a well-disposed judge. Finally, and relatedly, Chrysostom demonstrates to his audience the threat of the mob—both since the governor feels the need to employ such a stratagem to deal with them, and through focusing on their unhinged blood frenzy.

Chrysostom goes on to narrate Pilate's desperate attempts to save Jesus. When the crowd asks for Barabbas instead, Pilate asks the crowd, "What then shall I do to the Christ?" seeking to "shame" (ἐντρέψαι) the crowd into changing their mind. Finally, when he sees that no headway can be made and the situation is deteriorating, Pilate washes his hands, and proclaims his innocence. Only when the crowd had accepted Jesus's blood-guilt and "brought down sentence upon themselves" , did he finally "assent that everything be done" (συνεχώρησε πάντα γενέσθαι) (In Matt. Hom. 86.2). Thus "Pilate intervened in no way, but the Jews did everything (ἀλλὰ πάντα αὐτοὶ ἐποίουν), all of them becoming accusers (κατήγοροι), judges (δικασταί), and executioners (δήμιοι)" (In Matt. Hom. 87.1).

As suggested above, Pilate does not completely escape censure. For his inability to command the crowd, Chrysostom accuses Pilate of being [End Page 11] "unmanly and weak" (ἄνανδρος καὶ μαλακός). However, in the same breath he affirms that his guilt is the lesser, since the chief priests were evil and criminal (πονηροὶ καὶ κακοῦργοι). Pilate was not evil, then; he was simply a weak governor (In Matt. Hom. 86.1). So far, Chrysostom's portrait of Pilate is similar to others we have surveyed, if treated at greater length.

A year later, he revisited Pilate's character in his Homilies on John. In these homilies the image of Pilate was further developed: Chrysostom consistently interprets every action Pilate takes as an attempt to save Jesus. More than this, Chrysostom shows the Roman governor being taught and led towards divine understanding by the one he was supposed to be judging.

We pick up the story as Jesus is led to the praetorium by the chief priests. Chrysostom at first mocks the Jewish elders for their refusal to enter the governor's residence on grounds of ritual purity, asking "But what sort of pollution, tell me, is it to set foot into a justice-hall (δικαστήριον), where wrongdoers receive judgement?" (In Ioan. Hom. 83.3). Pilate's chambers are characterized as a place where justice occurs, in opposition to the halls of the Sanhedrin. Chrysostom adopts a different explanation for the fact that the chief priests brought Jesus to Pilate from that in his Homilies on Matthew. He suggests that the Jews did not have the power to execute him, since Roman dominion had taken away their authority. Moreover, the chief priests were afraid that if they executed Jesus on their own authority, "they would later be accused (κατηγορηθέντες) and dealt punishment (δίκην … δώσειν) by him"³⁹—that is, by Pilate (In Ioan. Hom.83.3). Pilate not only believes in Christ's innocence but would avenge him if illegally executed.

Pilate goes out to the chief priests, sees Jesus bound, and asks them what accusation they have against him:

Do you see that Pilate was free from lust for power (φιλαρχία) and envy (βασκανία)?⁴⁰ For seeing Jesus bound and conveyed by so many men, he did not assume that they had indisputable proof (ἐλεγχον ἀναμφισβήτητον) of their charges. Rather, he interrogates them, saying it inappropriate (ἄτοπος) for them to snatch at a judgement, and then apply a punishment, unjudged, to him (In Ioan. Hom. 83.4; PG 59: 452).⁴¹ [End Page 12]

Pilate's unremarkable request for the chief priests to explain their charges against the accused is interpreted as an action which proves his justice and his lack of malice. Similarly, when Chrysostom discusses John's account of the Passover prisoner release, he again goes beyond his source (John) in attributing to the Roman governor a strenuous and praiseworthy energy:

See how wisely Pilate proceeded! He did not say to the crowd: "He has sinned and is worthy of death, but forgive him on account of the feast." But, having first freed him of all charges (αὐτόν ἀπαλλάξας αἰτίας ἀπάσης), Pilate goes above and beyond (ἐκ περιουσίας) and asks them that if they will not accept his release as innocent, to forgive him as guilty on account of the season (In Ioan. Hom. 84.1; PG 59: 455).

Chrysostom's sense here is confusing, but he seems to be saying that—by initially emphasizing Christ's innocence, then on the crowd's refusal to accept this, instead asking them to pardon him as guilty—the governor was allowing the crowd to save face by meeting him in the middle. This is an image then of a governor bargaining with the people he is ruling—an inversion, like the governor petitioning the people in the earlier Homilies on Matthew. Again, Chrysostom is highlighting Pilate's active and even creative role in attempting to secure a safe conclusion to the episode.

Throughout the rest of his account, Chrysostom continues to emphasize Pilate's restless pro-Jesus action. He wished to "deliver him from the anger of the Jews," and was "anxious" (σπεύδων) to halt the bloodthirst (In Ioan. Hom. 84.1). Every action which Pilate took is interpreted as evidence that he was trying to free him. When he had Jesus whipped, it was to "calm the fury of the Jews ," and when he permitted Jesus to be dressed as a false king, it was to "slacken their anger." However, when the Roman soldiers who mocked Jesus went too far and hurt him, Chrysostom shows that Pilate bore no responsibility. He rhetorically asks, "How would the soldiers have done this, if it had not been the command of their governor?" Supplying the answer: "to please the Jews" (εἱς χάριν τὴν Ἰουδαικὴν), for soldiers will do anything for money. This was "not by the order" (οὐδὲ τὴν αρχήν) of their commander.⁴² Even when Pilate shouted to the crowd, "Take him and crucify him yourself," this was merely to shame the Jews by throwing to them responsibility which they did not have (In Ioan. Hom. 84.2). The result of all of this was another inversion: "see in how many ways the judge defends the defendant" : [End Page 13]

They had dragged him there in order that [their will] might be done with the aid of the governor's judgement ; but the opposite happened, that he was instead acquitted by the governor's judgement (In Ioan. Hom. 84.2; PG 59: 456).

More than simply finding Jesus innocent, Pilate, in Chrysostom's description, began to believe in Christ's divinity and Messiahship. When the governor interrogated Jesus about the kingdom which the chief priests alleged he coveted, he replied that "My kingdom is not of this world." In this he "leads (ἀνάγει) Pilate up, who was certainly not evil (οὐ σφόδρα ὄντα πονηρόν)—and did not take after the manner of the others—and wished to show him that he is not simply a man, but God, and the son of God" (In Ioan. Hom. 83.4). Christ therefore attempted to catechize Pilate and teach him about his own nature. Later, Chrysostom suggests he was successful: Jesus "spoke to Pilate, educating him (παιδεύων αὐτόν),⁴³ and leading him up to higher things (ἀνάγων πρὸς ὑψηλότερα)." More than this, Pilate was a willing student, discoursing alone with Jesus inside the praetorium, a place Chrysostom has established the Jews will not tread, because "he had a suspicion of something great about Jesus, and wanted to learn everything accurately away from the tumult of the Jews" (In Ioan. Hom. 84.1). Pilate, in fact, became the only non-Jewish student of Christ.⁴⁴

Pilate, Chrysostom suggested, had begun to believe. And he showed this too in writing the titulus: in proclaiming that Christ was the King of the Jews in three languages, Pontius Pilate was repudiating the Jews (τοὺς Ἰουδαίους ἀμυνόμενος) and defending (ἀπολογούμενος) Christ. He set the title on the cross "as if on a trophy" (ὥσπερ ἐπὶ τροπαίου), words which speaking with a "clear voice" proclaim Christ's victory (νίκη) and kingdom (βασίλεια) (In Ioan. Hom. 85.1). Chrysostom outdoes his efforts in the Homilies on Matthew, aided here by John's Gospel but still going well beyond it. The governor is shown as a dogged defender of Christ, seeking new ways to set him free at every turn and separated from the more distasteful elements of the trial. More than this, he becomes a willing hearer of Christ's message, eager to learn from [End Page 14] him, and led by him to greater understanding. After Christ's death, he proclaims his witness of Christ's Messiahship through the titulus. For Chrysostom's fourth-century Antiochene audience, the praefectus Iudaeae had been won by Christ.

And yet, still, Pilate gave him up. As in the Homilies on Matthew, Pilate cannot entirely escape blame. When the crowd saw that the prefect was not for turning, they "wickedly" switched their argument to treason against the emperor, finding recourse to "outside laws," saying, "Everyone who makes himself a king, speaks against Caesar." This led Pilate to think that "he might be endangered in the future" (νομίσας κινδυνεύειν λοιπόν) (In Ioan. Hom. 84.2), and so he eventually delivered Jesus up, "completely irrationally" (σπόδρα ἀλόγως). He should have carefully investigated the truth of the charges, but instead he delivered the condemnation "out of fear alone" (ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου μόνου) (In Ioan. Hom. 85.1). He was perhaps perceptive and just, but he was also weak and led by fear.

This seems like an extreme condemnation, but it does not quite fit with the rest of the presentation of Pilate we get in these homilies. Chrysostom spends so much time showing Pilate's energetic defence of Christ that the moment of weakness—almost betrayal—is somehow unsatisfying. To understand this, it may be worth considering that the power of the governor had been significantly diminished by Chrysostom's own day in comparison to the early and high empire.

Many factors conspired to render the Roman provincial governor of the fourth century less fearsome and powerful than the governor of the early and high empire. In earlier periods, Roman administration was thin, and the governor was by far and away the senior official. As a senator or (in the case of Pilate above, and Festus below—see Section III) an eques, the governor of the early Roman empire held a status which few others, if any, in his province could match.⁴⁵ His authority was buttressed by the fact that he was also the commander of the troops in his province.⁴⁶ Roman citizenship was comparatively rare in the East, and governors had almost untrammelled authority in dealing with peregrines, such as Jesus.⁴⁷ Institutions of appeal and judicial [End Page 15] checks-and-balances were relatively poorly developed, making it difficult to evade an unfavorable legal decision.⁴⁸ If provincials were unhappy with their treatment at the hands of their governor, they had to wait for his term of office to end and then travel to Rome to have him impeached in the senate in a trial (though the chances of success were reasonably good).⁴⁹

All these conditions had been changed in the late empire. Diocletian's reorganization had drastically reduced the size of provinces,⁵⁰ which were now grouped within dioceses and further above these into praetorian prefectures, meaning that governors had at least two layers of hierarchy between themselves and the emperor.⁵¹ This meant that provincials had other reachable officials they could appeal to if they were unhappy with a governor's decision—particularly so in major cities like Antioch, which was the seat both of the consularis (governor) of Syria and of the comes Orientis, the vicarius of the diocese of the Oriens.⁵² Civil and military competencies had been separated, depriving governors—who no longer commanded troops—of directly using imperial forces.⁵³ Finally, many inhabitants of cities like Antioch were themselves ex-officials or Constantinopolitan senators, often of senior status [End Page 16] to the man who was administering their province.⁵⁴ The emboldened local elite had become part of the structure of imperial administration as the late antique state expanded its aims and reach, and so "even when resident in their hometown, they felt entitled to treat the incoming governor as a junior colleague."⁵⁵ Among this local elite were now also the Christian bishops, who were developing judicial competencies which contested with those of the governors.⁵⁶ The governor of the late empire—the kind of man to whom Chrysostom was accustomed—was no longer the all-powerful imperial legate but one piece among many in the administration of a province who had to co-operate and tussle with, as much as rule over, the potentates of his province.⁵⁷

A governor who did not show restraint and care in his dealings with the local elite—treating them as inferiors rather than as partners—might find co-operation withdrawn, and administration become impossible.⁵⁸ Lucianus, consularis Syriae in 388—the third year of Chrysostom's career as presbyter, shortly before he began his Gospel homilies—had been deposed after the Antiochene councillors, outraged at what they regarded as a lack of respect,⁵⁹ appealed to Tatianus, the praetorian prefect of the Oriens and Lucianus's superior (Lib. Or. 56.14, 21). Indeed, losing the protection of the powerful could be the difference between life and death. In 354, Theophilus, another consularis Syriae, was torn to pieces by the Antiochene mob during a famine. Ammianus Marcellinus suggests that he had been used as a scapegoat by Gallus Caesar, who had inflamed the crowd by proclaiming that nobody could lack food against the governor's will (quod invito rectore, nullus egere poterit victu).⁶⁰ This event left a deep impression at Antioch; nine years later Julian reproached the Antiochenes for having killed the governor (Jul. Misop. 370c), [End Page 17] and looking back after the Riot of the Statues in 387 (below), Libanius recalled the murder of the "excellent governor" (χρηστὸς ἄρχων) Theophilus and asked Theodosius to show the same clemency to the city which Constantius II had after that shameful episode (Lib. Or. 19.47–48 [Loeb 452: 296–98]).

John Chrysostom's audience in 390–391 would therefore have needed no reminding of the professional and personal risks faced by a governor who lost control of his province. They had excellent examples of both in the recent history of their city. I suggest that Chrysostom's focus on the intransigence of the local elites in Jerusalem—the chief priests—and their incitement of the mob baying for Jesus's death, would have allowed an audience acquainted with weak governors to reconcile the idea that Pilate had been convinced of Jesus's innocence with the fact that he allowed him to be executed. Pilate was not evil, but nor was he all powerful, and he was afraid—perhaps reasonably. What would have stretched credulity for an early imperial audience was now more believable: Pilate was one of a number of actors in the story of Jesus's trial rather than the undisputed chief, and he had found himself outmanoeuvred.

This may have served as explanation, and partial defence, of Pilate's weakness, his μαλακία. But why should he have needed this defense—why was John Chrysostom so keen to emphasize his attempted protection of Christ and his lack of responsibility for the condemnation? The primary explanation for the similar expressions we find across early Christian texts is that this was to emphasize the separation between a Christian church—which had found its home in the gentile world—and the Jews.⁶¹ Absolving the Roman judge of guilt for Jesus's death was part of a project to instead blame the Jews and emphasize their failure to recognize the Messiah—justifying the passing of the mantle of the people of God from the old Israel to the new. This is certainly part of the motivation for the material we have explored. It ties into the popular Christian idea that the Jewish nation executed Christ and paid for its offence with the double destruction of Jerusalem, first during the Jewish Revolt of 66 to 73/74,⁶² and finally during the Bar Kokhba revolt under Hadrian in the 130s.⁶³ The force and coherence of such arguments would be lessened if the mechanism by which this divine penalty was applied—the Roman state—also bore responsibility for the death the Messiah.

There is support for this in Chrysostom's work. In the homilies we have explored, he explicitly places the guilt of the Jews above that of Pilate.⁶⁴ He [End Page 18] uses Pilate's defence of Christ to highlight the relentless attempts by the chief priests to have him executed. As we have seen, he refers to the titulus placed by the governor as an explicit repudiation of the Jews (In Ioan. Hom. 85.1). Chrysostom's interpretation of Pontius Pilate may also be implicated in his earlier series of Homilies against the Jews, delivered in 386/387.⁶⁵ These addresses are primarily directed against the Judaizing tendencies of his own congregation, exhorting them to abstain from joining in with Jewish festivities and calling upon them to be watchful lest any of their number backslide towards Jewish belief—a call-to-arms to community self-policing.⁶⁶

In these sermons, Chrysostom regularly calls the Jews "Christ-killers," asking his congregation to remember that those with whom they would share feasts and fasts were those who shouted "Crucify him, crucify him," and "His blood be upon us and upon our children" (for example, Adv. Iud. 1.5.1, 6.1.7; PG 48: 850, 905), recalling the moment in Matthew in which the guilt for Jesus's death is transferred from Pilate to the Jewish mob through the governor's handwashing. This project of transferring guilt from Pilate to the Jews therefore could have supported his tangential aims of arguing for strict separation between Jews and Christians.⁶⁷ Indeed, a passage in the first Homily against the Jews in which Chrysostom seems to be channelling his inner Pilate may suggest that the prefect was on his mind. He tells his audience that if any of his congregation should join in any Jewish festival, "I am cleansed of the blood of all of you" (, Adv. Iud. 1.8.1; PG 48: 835), reminiscent of Pilate's statement in Matthew that "I am innocent of the blood of this man" (, Matt 27.24).

On the other hand, Pilate is only explicitly named once in this series of sermons, where Chrysostom interprets Jesus's silence before his judge as a fulfilment of Isaiah 53.7–8, and the mention is not positive. Pilate is described as presiding over a "lawless tribunal" (παράνομος δικαστήριον), and it is suggested that he bears responsibility for accepting "false witness" made in his courtroom (Adv. Iud. 6.5; PG 48: 910). If the primary motivation for presenting Pilate in a positive light was to highlight Jewish evil, it is strange that it does not occur in a series which seeks explicitly to prove Jewish guilt for Christ's death. Moreover, as this passage demonstrates, it is not necessary to reduce Pilate's guilt to stress Jewish culpability. Both could be condemned together. Finally, it is now generally agreed that the contra [End Page 19] Iudaeos genre is less concerned with "real" debates between Christians and Jews than with internal Christian debates.⁶⁸ This is in fact explicit in Chrysostom's Homilies against the Jews, as he is addressing Christian members of his flock and begins by likening his anti-Jewish mission to his anti-heretical addresses (Hom. contra Iud. 1.1). Viewed this way, it may be asked whether it might be the case that, in Chrysostom's Homilies on Matthew and Homilies on John, Jewish guilt is used in order to highlight the relative innocence of Pilate, as much as the other way round. If this is the case, then we must suggest new motivations for Chrysostom's presentation—ones which center Pilate himself.

III. A Tale of Three Governors: Pilate, Festus, and Celsus

This was not the only time Chrysostom showed interest in a historical Roman governor. He also had cause, several years earlier, to discuss with his congregation the example of Paul before Porcius Festus, who ruled Judaea as procurator three decades after Pilate's stint as prefect (Hom. de Stat. 16). I contend that the way Chrysostom dealt with Festus throws light onto his motivations in mobilizing Pilate: these two historical Roman governors were utilized by Chrysostom in similar ways. What particularly attracted him to this episode was his belief that Festus had almost become Christian by Paul's words—another example of a Christian figure catechizing a pagan Roman official. Moreover, this was an example to which John's mind went after a real-life interaction with a pagan Roman governor which had left him ashamed and angry.

In 387, the people of Antioch rioted after a protest against a new tax got out of hand.⁶⁹ In the fray, imperial images were smashed and statues of the emperor were torn down, broken up, and dragged through the streets (Lib. Or. 19; Joh. Chrys. Hom. de Stat. 2). Though some lower-class "instigators" were quickly executed by the local authorities—led by the governor (consularis)⁷⁰ of Syria, Celsus—the population was terrified that, once word reached the emperor, he would destroy the city.⁷¹ The Meletian Bishop of Antioch, Flavian, [End Page 20] immediately departed for Constantinople to beg Theodosius for mercy (Hom. de Stat. 3.1).⁷² Chrysostom, who had already begun his Easter cycle of homilies (Hom. de Stat. 1), was now faced with keeping the congregation of Antioch calm in the absence of their bishop while they awaited news from the capital.⁷³

The sequence of homilies suggests that after the initial excitement, the situation calmed, enabling Chrysostom to avoid the topic for several sermons. In the meantime, the emperor had received news of the riot and dispatched two deputies—Caesarius the magister officiorum and Ellebichus the magister militum per Orientem—to execute the guilty among the Antiochene curial class at an extraordinary trial. Seventeen days after the riot—perhaps due to news that the commissioners' arrival was imminent⁷⁴—Chrysostom's congregation became distressed by the idea that the city was encircled by soldiers preparing a slaughter (Hom. de Stat. 16.1). Celsus, the pagan consularis Syriae who had carried out the initial executions, entered John's church (probably the Golden Church) to calm his congregation.⁷⁵ After this gubernatorial intervention, an embarrassed John admonished his cowardly flock. [End Page 21]

Though I commended (μὲν ἐπῄνεσα) the governor (τὸν ἄρχοντα) for his care (κηδεμονία)—because having seen that the city was in uproar, and all were considering flight, he entered in here and encouraged (παρακάλεσε) you, and led you to happy hopes (εἰς χρηστὰς ἐλπίδας)—I nevertheless was ashamed and burned (ἠρυθρίασα) on your account, that you should have required consoling words from without (ἔξωθεν), after my many and extensive addresses!

(Hom. de Stat. 16.1; PG 49: 161).

So distressed was John that his congregation had failed to heed his own exhortations to calmness, necessitating an unbelieving governor to take his place in church, that he wished to be swallowed up by the ground. He lamented upon hearing the governor "now comforting (παραμυθουμένων) you, now rebuking (αἰτιωμένων) this inopportune and senseless cowardice (ἀλογον δειλίαν)." The congregation had missed an opportunity to give the governor a lesson in Christian mildness and self-control, and he had left less convinced by Christian virtue than before.

For it was not befitting for you to be taught (διδάσκεσθαι) by him: rather you should become the teachers of all the unbelievers … In future, with what eyes shall we look upon the unbelievers, we who were so terrified and cowardly (δειλοί)? With what tongue shall we discourse with them, and persuade them to take courage before the coming horrors, when we proved more cowardly throughout this contest than any hare?

(Hom. de Stat. 16.1; PG 49: 161–62).

The craven behavior of his congregation was an embarrassment in front of civil authority—particularly since he was a pagan, one "without" (ἔξωθεν) the church, an unbeliever (ἄπιστος) who should have been student, not teacher.⁷⁶ There is only praise for Celsus himself; he had spoken and acted well. The [End Page 22] issue was rather that Chrysostom's congregation did not act before a Roman governor the way Christians should.⁷⁷

To drive home the point, Chrysostom summoned the example of Paul before Festus. Unlike the Antiochene Christians, Paul had calmly met his fate and even revelled in his detention. He looked upon his trial before a Roman judge—just as Jesus did in the Homilies on John which Chrysostom would later deliver—as an opportunity to catechize the governor, teaching him of Jesus. In this way Paul "grasped the judge , and almost convinced him to convert to his side" (Hom. de Stat. 16.3).

Such are the souls of the saints. When they have fallen into danger, they do not contemplate how they might get free , but how they might capture their oppressors (τοὺς ἐμβαλόντας), trying all devices. And it happened just so. He entered to defend himself , but he left, taking the judge with him (τὸν δικαστὴν λαβὼν ἀπῄει)! And the same judge witnessed (ἐμαρτύρησε) this, saying: "In such short order (ἐν ὀλίγῳ) you convince me to become Christian!"

(Hom. de Stat. 16.4; PG 49: 166).

This is the example which Chrysostom would have had his congregation follow before their own governor Celsus:

And this is what should have happened today: and this governor (ἄρχων) should have been amazed by your magnanimity (μεγαλοψυχία), your philosophy (φιλοσοφία), your total calmness (ἡσυχία ἄπασα)—and have left taking with him an education (διδασκαλία) from your constancy , marvelling at your assembly (σύλλογος), praising your council (συνέδριον), and learning from these things how great the difference is between Hellenes and Christians!

(Hom. de Stat. 16.4; PG 49: 166).

In their cowardice, the Antiochene Christians of 387 had failed to make a Festus—or a Pilate—out of Celsus. While those two historical governors, whose interaction with Christians had been immortalized in the New Testament, had been led to higher things by the constancy of those brought before them, the inconstancy of John's congregation had left only a negative impression on the pagan governor of fourth-century Syria.

Only, Festus never suggested he was nearly made Christian by Paul. Those words were spoken by Herod Agrippa II, attending Festus's court at Caesarea. Moreover, in context, Agrippa's interjection in Acts 26.28 (ἐν ὀλίγῳ με πείθεις [End Page 23] Χριστιανὸν ) is clearly satirical, translated either as a mocking question ("Are you so quickly persuading me to become a Christian?" NRSV) or a dismissive statement ("You try to make me a Christian with so few words"). Luke's Paul understands this, for his response supposes that Agrippa means ἐν ὀλίγῳ to be diminutive. More than this, the Festus of Acts—though, like Luke's Pilate, finding Paul innocent⁷⁸—is not convinced by what he has to say. In fact, he interrupts Paul: "Festus said in a loud voice: 'You are mad, Paul! Too much learning (πολλά … γράμματα) has made you insane!'" (Acts 26.24).

John's homily therefore significantly alters Acts 26. Chrysostom has reinterpreted the mocking ἐν ὀλίγῳ με πείθεις Χριστιανὸν ποιῆσαι as an affirmation that Paul succeeded in making a Christian in such short order (ἐν ὀλίγῳ), and he has transferred the words from Agrippa to Festus. Introducing the scene, John tells us only: "When this Paul came in before Festus," referring to him thereafter as "the judge," (ὁ δικαστής). Nowhere is the presence of Agrippa admitted. Whether by deliberate intent or accident,⁷⁹ Chrysostom's elision here demonstrates a deep interest in the converted Roman governor as a counterpoint to the unconverted Celsus—an interest that we have seen was widely held among early Christian authors writing under the Roman empire.

Chrysostom admits no Jewish presence in the scene of Paul before Festus—Jewish guilt is not a topos here—and yet he dwells, again, on a Roman officer who recognized Christian truth and innocence. This helps to elucidate that when he did the same a few years later while preaching on Pilate, focusing on another catechesis at the hands of a prisoner, it is not simply because Pilate's innocence suggests the culpability of the Jews. Nor is he merely the generalized representative of the gentiles. Rather, Chrysostom is interested in Pilate qua Pilate—in his capacity as Roman prefect of Judaea. In each of these cases—Celsus, Festus, and Pilate—Chrysostom is animated by the desire that Roman officialdom should be positively impressed in its interactions with Christians.

Chrysostom elsewhere shows an interest in the ways in which the Roman empire and Christianity were complementary.⁸⁰ Like many other Christian authors, he found Roman recognition of Christianity a compelling subject. This should not be surprising, despite the idea that Chrysostom professed an [End Page 24] episcopal authority which existed outside and superior to imperial structures.⁸¹ Of course, like many other elites of the Roman empire, he advocated the superiority and legitimacy of the structures of which he was beneficiary and organizer, as potentates in the provinces ruled by Rome always had.⁸² This should not necessarily be taken as evidence that he was opposed to temporal authority in principle; rather, the zero-sum competition for privileges and legitimacy which characterized life under Roman rule encouraged these types of rhetorical expressions from all identity mobilizers. At the same time, Chrysostom was part of a Mediterranean-wide society which was avowedly and, in many ways, "aggressively Roman," and of a family with a history of imperial service.⁸³ Antioch, after all, was proud of its history of imperial honors, even if this was intertwined with periods of imperial disfavor.⁸⁴ The material discussed here does not amount to a coherent political philosophy by any means, but I think it gives us a window into something deeper than a self-conscious and fully fledged exposition: a basic, even primal discomfort with some of the things that a narrative of hostility between the Roman state and the Christian religion implied, and an interest in historical examples which vitiated them. Chrysostom may have had much to criticize about specific Roman institutions, but this material does not support the view that the Roman empire was conspicuous in its absence from John Chrysostom's thought.⁸⁵ Contrary to Dvornik's schema, however, this is not a purely (or even particularly) "Eusebian" viewpoint, but—as we have seen in Section I—it corresponds to concerns encountered throughout a wide swathe of early Christian literature.

In 393, two years after he delivered his Homilies on John and six years after the debacle of the statues, Chrysostom's homiletic cycle concerned Paul's Epistle to the Romans. Here, again, he spoke of the importance of Christian self-control and obedience in front of earthly authorities, since by this behavior the Christian could convert unbelieving governors and dispel the myth of Christian revolution (In Epist. ad Rom. 23.1–2). Thus, Paul's injunction to obey rulers (Rom 13.1–7) applied to both pagan and Christian powers (In [End Page 25] Epist. ad Rom. 23.3). In his final homily on Romans, Chrysostom delivered a moving tribute to Rome itself, as a place redolent in both earthly and spiritual glory—both a historical and living proof of the essential connection between the empire of the Romans and the religion of Christ. Reflecting on the fact that both Peter and Paul should be forever associated with the eternal city, Chrysostom waxes:

I love Rome on this account , despite having other reasons to praise her—for example her greatness , and her antiquity , and her beauty , and her populousness , her power , her wealth , and her successes in war . But I leave all this aside, and consider her blessed for this reason: that while he lived Paul both wrote to them, and so loved them, and discoursed with them while he was there, and loosed his grip on life there. So the city is more renowned (ἐπίσημος … ) for this reason, than for any other. And as a body great and strong, she has two shining eyes—the bodies of these saints. Not so brilliant is heaven (οὐχ οὕτως ἐστὶν ὁ οὐρανὸς λαμπρὸς) when the sun sends forth its rays as is the city of Rome transmitting these two beacons across all parts of the world (In Epist. ad Rom. 32.2; PG 60: 687).

I think that we can detect a clear pride in this passage, not necessarily that Christianity has conquered a hostile Rome (for Chrysostom explicitly counts Rome blessed) but that a city known everywhere as the most famous and powerful in the world should find a new fame as something unambiguously and splendidly Christian. For Christian believers who were themselves Roman subjects and citizens, both pre- and post-Constantine—and leaving aside their apparent beliefs on episcopal authority—there was a deep-seated need to find a way to present Christianity as something that had always really been a part of Rome. This is the same impulse which was acting on Christians across the Mediterranean, throughout the principate and Late Antiquity, in mobilizing the figure of Pilate as one who recognized the righteousness of Jesus. They did this not simply as a way of suggesting Jewish guilt for Jesus's death, nor merely as a way of prophesying the Pauline mission to the gentiles, but as a way of suggesting that Rome—through the prefect of Judaea—had been there from the very start.

In some ways, my interpretation represents a return to older arguments which saw Pilate as part of a "propaganda war," used by Christians to suggest the benign nature of their religion.⁸⁶ Where I differ from this—and what the [End Page 26] case of Chrysostom shows clearly—is that the target of this rhetoric was not "pagans" or "educated Graeco-Romans" outside the church, as has traditionally been regarded the audience of Christian apology.⁸⁷ Chrysostom did not preach to externi, but to Christians congregated in his church. This was an internal discourse—as was, I argue, the pre-Constantinian material explored in Section I. The investigation of Chrysostom's detailed portrait of Pilate therefore throws light on the motivations for a wide range of early Christian literature. This helps to explain why Constantine's reign and the coming of a Christian empire did not lead to a radical break in the way Christian authors approached Pilate. For as long as they existed within the Roman empire, Christian thinkers—most of them educated individuals who considered that they should be part of the social elite of imperial society—had to work out how to square their Christianity, which entailed revering a man who was put to death by a Roman governor as a revolutionary, with their positions as educated members of Roman society. This was an identity imperative which, if anything, became more acute with Christianity's achievement of power in the fourth century. Indeed, if there is a new development in this period, it is the popularization of the theory of Pilate's lack of culpability. Whereas in the pre-Constantinian area, such expressions were embedded in texts written by elite Christians and intended for consumption by other elite Christians, Chrysostom was preaching to a socially-mixed audience. At the same time, Pilate-related apocrypha—which, as we have seen (Section I), often contained pro-Pilate portraits—were circulating, likely also finding wider social appeal than earlier apologies and polemics. Chrysostom himself may have been influenced by them, as he was by other popular apocryphal stories, such as those concerning the emperor Nero.⁸⁸ This shows that such ideas were not merely of academic interest but had a wide appeal. Rome was Christian, and Roman history was Christian history, but that overlapping story had some rough edges. Christian authors and identity mobilizers resorted to a number of creative strategies to smooth these out—and the material explored here was part of that process.

In John Chrysostom's New Testament homilies we see an exceptionally full exposition of the idea of Pilate as an honest witness for Jesus Christ, belying the preacher's apparent anti-authority bent and presented for the benefit of [End Page 27] his Christian congregation. In fourth-century Antioch, deep into a Christian empire, it was still important to be able to imagine a Pontius Pilate who had seen and believed.