Commentary - Matthew 27:11-26

Bird's-eye view

In this section of Matthew's gospel, we are brought into the legal and political theater of Christ's passion. Jesus stands before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, and the scene is one of stark contrasts. We see the silent majesty of the true King against the noisy accusations of the corrupt religious establishment. We see the craven political maneuvering of a pagan governor who knows what is right but refuses to do it. And most centrally, we see the great substitution, the divine exchange, dramatized for all of history in the choice between Jesus and Barabbas. The crowd, manipulated by their leaders, chooses a murderer over the Prince of Life. This entire episode is a potent display of human depravity, political cowardice, and the insidious nature of envy. But overarching all of it, as the Scriptures elsewhere make plain, is the sovereign hand of God, accomplishing the redemption of the world precisely through this travesty of justice (Acts 4:27-28).

The passage moves from the quiet dignity of Jesus under questioning to the loud clamor of a mob demanding His death. Pilate attempts to evade responsibility, but finds himself trapped by the crowd's fervor and his own desire to maintain political peace. His theatrical hand-washing is a futile attempt to declare himself innocent of a verdict he himself enables. The section concludes with the chilling cry of the people, taking responsibility for Christ's blood, and the release of the guilty in the place of the innocent. Barabbas walks free, and Jesus is handed over to be scourged and crucified, the perfect Lamb moving inexorably toward the slaughter He had ordained from before the foundation of the world.

Outline

Verse-by-Verse Commentary

v. 11 Now Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor questioned Him, saying, “Are You the King of the Jews?” And Jesus said to him, “You yourself say it.”

Here stands the King of the cosmos before a petty local official of the Roman Empire. The irony is thicker than mud. Pilate, thinking he is the one with the authority, asks the central question. He is not asking a theological question about the Messiah; for him, "King of the Jews" is a political charge, a matter of insurrection. Is this man a threat to Caesar? Jesus's answer is not an evasion. "You yourself say it" is a way of affirming the statement while throwing the weight of it back on the questioner. It is a Hebraic way of saying, "Those are your words, but you have spoken the truth." Jesus is a king, but not in the way Pilate understands kingship. His kingdom is not of this world, which is why His servants were not fighting. He is a king who rules by truth and righteousness, not by the sword. And here, He is confessing this truth before the representative of the world's power.

v. 12 And while He was being accused by the chief priests and elders, He did not answer.

The chief priests and elders, the religious establishment, are the accusers. They should have been the ones to recognize their Messiah, but instead, their envy has curdled into murderous rage. They unload a barrage of accusations, likely a mix of blasphemy charges (which Pilate wouldn't care about) and trumped-up political charges (which he would). In the face of this verbal assault, Jesus is silent. This is not the silence of guilt or confusion. It is the fulfillment of prophecy: "He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth" (Isaiah 53:7). It is the silence of sovereign dignity. He has nothing to say to these liars. His case is not being tried before them, or even before Pilate, but before His Father in heaven.

v. 13 Then Pilate said to Him, “Do You not hear how many things they testify against You?”

Pilate is perplexed. This is not how trials are supposed to go. An accused man is supposed to defend himself, to dispute the testimony, to plead for his life. Pilate is almost trying to help Jesus here, to coach Him on how to play the game. "Don't you hear them? Say something!" He sees the injustice of it, but he is a man of the world, and in his world, you have to fight for yourself. He cannot comprehend a man who refuses to participate in the charade. Jesus's silence is unsettling to him; it is a display of a kind of authority that Pilate's worldly power cannot touch.

v. 14 And He did not answer him with regard to even a single charge, so the governor marveled greatly.

Jesus remains silent. Not one word in His own defense. This is not contempt of court; it is a profound statement. He is not submitting to Pilate's judgment but to His Father's will. Pilate's reaction is astonishment. He had seen all kinds of men in his court, from hardened criminals to sniveling cowards. He had never seen anyone like this. This quiet, dignified man who refused to be drawn into the fray was utterly unique. The governor "marveled greatly." The power of God is often displayed not in thunder and lightning, but in the quiet, immovable resolve of His Son.

v. 15 Now at the feast the governor was accustomed to release for the crowd any one prisoner whom they wanted.

Here Matthew introduces a local custom, likely a Roman attempt to placate the Jews during the volatile Passover festival. It was a political pressure valve. This custom now becomes the instrument through which God will display the heart of man and the glory of substitutionary atonement. Pilate thinks he can use this tradition to his advantage, to cleverly extricate himself from a difficult situation.

v. 16 And at that time they were holding a notorious prisoner, called Barabbas.

We are introduced to the other man. Barabbas. His name is significant: Bar-Abbas, meaning "son of the father." He is described as "notorious," a well-known criminal. John tells us he was a robber (John 18:40), and Mark and Luke add that he was an insurrectionist and a murderer (Mark 15:7; Luke 23:19). He is the embodiment of what the Jews claimed to be fighting against: lawlessness, violence, rebellion against order. He is a guilty man, a true son of the fallen father, Adam.

v. 17 So when the people gathered together, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you? Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?”

Pilate thinks this is a brilliant move. He offers the crowd a stark choice. On the one hand, a violent murderer. On the other, a man who went about doing good, a teacher whom many in the crowds had followed. He even adds "who is called Christ" to perhaps appeal to any Messianic hopes in the crowd. Surely, he thinks, they will make the obvious, rational choice. He is trying to use democracy to achieve justice, a strategy that is doomed from the start when the heart of the democracy is corrupt.

v. 18 For he knew that because of envy they had delivered Him over.

This is a crucial verse. Matthew gives us a glimpse into Pilate's mind. He was not a fool. He was a pagan Roman governor, but he could see plain as day what was going on. The motive was not righteousness or zeal for God's law. The motive was raw, ugly envy. The chief priests saw the crowds following Jesus. They saw their authority diminishing. Jesus's goodness and power were a rebuke to their hypocrisy, and they hated Him for it. Envy is not the desire to have what someone else has; it is the desire for the other person not to have it. It is a vile sin, and Pilate, for all his faults, could spot it a mile away.

v. 19 Now while he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent him a message, saying, “Have nothing to do with that righteous Man; for last night I suffered greatly in a dream because of Him.”

As if Pilate's own conscience and political sense weren't enough, he gets a supernatural warning from an unlikely source, his pagan wife. God is giving Pilate every opportunity to do the right thing. This dream is a testimony from outside the covenant community, a witness to the righteousness of Jesus. Pilate is being warned from every quarter, natural and supernatural. He is being hemmed in by the truth. The message is clear: "that righteous Man." Even a pagan woman could see it.

v. 20 But the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to put Jesus to death.

Here is the turning point. Pilate had miscalculated. He had underestimated the power of wicked leaders to manipulate a crowd. The chief priests and elders get to work, stirring up the multitude. We should not assume this is the same crowd that welcomed Jesus on Palm Sunday. Jerusalem was packed for the Passover, and it was a divided city. The religious leaders could easily gather a mob sympathetic to their cause. They persuade them, they campaign, they lobby. And their platform is simple: release the murderer, and kill the Messiah.

v. 21 But the governor answered and said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.”

Pilate asks again, perhaps in disbelief. And the verdict of the people comes back, clear and terrible. "Barabbas." They choose the son of the father, the murderer, the rebel. They choose the man who is just like them. In this moment, all of humanity stands with Barabbas. We are all guilty rebels, deserving of death. The crowd's choice is our choice, apart from grace. They chose a man who takes life over the man who gives life.

v. 22 Pilate said to them, “Then, what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” They all said, “Let Him be crucified!”

The logical next question. If Barabbas goes free, what happens to Jesus? The crowd, now a unified mob, roars its answer: "Let Him be crucified!" Not just executed. Crucified. The most shameful, agonizing death the Romans could devise. A death reserved for slaves and the worst of criminals. This is the depth of their hatred, whipped into a frenzy by their envious leaders. They want to utterly humiliate and destroy the one who is called Christ.

v. 23 And he said, “Why, what evil did He do?” But they were crying out all the more, saying, “Let Him be crucified!”

To his credit, Pilate pushes back one more time. He asks for a reason, for a crime. "Why? What evil has He done?" It is the question of a man whose conscience is screaming at him. But mobs do not listen to reason. Their response is not an argument, but an increase in volume. Their minds are made up. The demand for crucifixion becomes a deafening chant, drowning out the voice of justice and reason. This is the nature of mob rule; it is passion untethered from truth.

v. 24 Now when Pilate saw that he was accomplishing nothing, but rather that a riot was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to that yourselves.”

Pilate gives up. His primary concern is not justice, but order. He fears a riot, which would be bad for his career. So he performs a symbolic act, a Jewish custom of washing hands to declare innocence (Deut. 21:6-9). But it is an empty, pathetic gesture. He is the governor. He has the soldiers. He has the authority to release Jesus. By handing Jesus over, he is complicit, no matter how much water he uses. His words are a cowardly abdication of his duty. He tries to place the blame entirely on the Jews, but he is the one who will give the order.

v. 25 And all the people answered and said, “His blood be on us and on our children!”

This is one of the most chilling verses in all of Scripture. The crowd readily, even eagerly, accepts the responsibility. They are so consumed with their desire to see Jesus dead that they invoke a curse upon themselves and their descendants. In one sense, this was a terrible imprecation that had horrific historical consequences. But in another, more profound sense, this is the cry of every sinner who comes to God for salvation. We can only be saved if Christ's blood is upon us. They meant it for condemnation, but God meant it for salvation. The blood that they called down in judgment is the only blood that can cleanse them, and us, from sin.

v. 26 Then he released Barabbas for them; but after having Jesus scourged, he delivered Him over to be crucified.

The great transaction is completed. The substitute is released. Barabbas, the guilty, walks free, a living picture of every redeemed sinner. And Jesus, the innocent, is handed over to suffer. He is scourged, a brutal whipping that tore men to pieces, and then delivered to the cross. Pilate the politician has won his peace for the day. The envious priests have won their victory. The bloodthirsty crowd has gotten its wish. And God the Father has accomplished His eternal purpose. The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, is now on His way to the altar.