I finally realized that the only way to be done with the matter was to release Jesus to the crowd. I called for my basin and washed my hands of His guilt or innocence for all to see. Then I turned Him over to the mob. He was crucified.
Nothing I tried would make it go away. The problem of Jesus always came back to me. It is not a thing to be proud of. Not the way I hoped my service to Caesar would go. But I do not see what I could have done differently. Just bad luck, I guess. I console myself with the thought that few will ever know of this matter; a minor affair of a mad race in a backwater province. My name, when remembered, will be remembered with the glory and honor of Caesar, ruler of all the earth, and Rome, the kingdom that will endure.
Voice of evasion
April 7, 2012 by joyfulpapist