"I, Claudia"

A sermon by The Rev. Keenan Kelsey
Noe Valley Ministry, Presbyterian Church (USA)
March 26, 2006

TEXT: Matthew 27:15-26

¹⁵ Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. ¹⁶ At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Jesus Barabbas. ¹⁷ So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, "Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?" ¹⁸ For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. ¹⁹ While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, "Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him." ²⁰ Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. ²¹ The governor again said to them, "Which of the two do you want me to release for you?" And they said, "Barabbas." ²² Pilate said to them, "Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?" All of them said, "Let him be crucified!" ²³ Then he asked, "Why, what evil has he done?" But they shouted all the more, "Let him be crucified!" ²⁴ So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, "I am innocent of this man's blood; see to it yourselves." ²⁵ Then the people as a whole answered, "His blood be on us and on our children!" ²⁶ So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.

I AM CLAUDIA, daughter of the third wife of the Emperor Tiberius, granddaughter of Caesar Augustus, wife of Pontius Pilate. You might think, because I am here today, that during my life I was an unwilling participant in the life of politics and power. But make no mistake, I was a Roman woman through and through. I was raised in the courtyards of power and the theaters of politics. Much of what Pilate wanted, I wanted as well. Our arranged marriage suited us both -- his ambition and courage and my connections made us a perfect combination. Oh, Pilate had royal blood as well, however several generations before, his family fell out of favor and lost prestige. They became chief equestrians. Chief equestrian is not a bad position, but Pilate wanted more, a great deal more. So he bargained to marry me.

Through my father Tiberius, Pilate became prefect of the Roman outpost of Judea. It was a small post, but actually my husband, had greater authority than most procurators under the empire. For in addition to the ordinary duty of financial administration, he had supreme power judicially. And of course he never expected to stay in that Judea - he expected to rise beyond that assignment.

At first, I thought we complemented each other. But I had not known - nor had Tiberius - how very much Pilate hated the Jews. He thought their religion was superstitious. "They're always bickering" he would say. "Petty arguments over legalisms. They cry blasphemy at one another constantly and what groveling they do in from of their God. I bow only to Rome!" Pilate, almost immediately made himself an enemy of the Jews. Wanting to show them who was in charge, he equipped his soldiers with medallions of the Emperor, the one chosen by God, throwing into their faces his lack of respect for their religion.

Then he made another mistake. Wanting to be popular, to make a name for himself, he decided to build an aqueduct. It sounded promising. Surely Rome would sit up and take notice. I encouraged Pilate in his plans. This was just the sort of project that would advance him and might even get us a more prominent post. Everything went well. I thought, until one evening a group of red-faced tight-lipped Sanhedrin appeared at our door, angrily shouting at Pilate. Pilate had used Temple tax money to build the aqueduct! He had taken money from the Jews, intended to support the temple, and used it for his own purposes.We were so hated by the Jews that I myself could not go outside the palace without a servants garb, with my head covered. It all seemed so wrong.

In Caesarea, I met Joseph of Arimethea. He was member of the Council, part of the Sanhedrin that worked with Pilate, a devout Jew and a good man, judging from all I had heard. I decided to show an interest in the Jewish religion, so that perhaps the people would think Pilate too was interested. Joseph told me of their God, a God who had make covenant with them, a God who cared about their everyday lives, I had never heard of such a God. My gods were cold, arbitrary, gods who demanded, never offered. This God was different. This God attempted to communicate; this God cared about the people.

Our world did not separate politics and religion. The chief priests in Jerusalem were the political leaders in Judea And Pilate represented a Roman system that claimed to originate with Jupiter and to manifest Jupiter's and the gods' blessings. Politics is religion, and religion is politics. I should have stayed out of it all. I should have never listened to Joseph. But this God of Israel was compelling. I kept coming back to learn more.

One day I heard Pilate talking to one of his soldiers about a man named Jesus. I asked about him. Pilate said he was just some religious fanatic. He said he hoped he wasn't another John the Baptist who would scream in the wilderness. Pilate had already had to deal with Herod's hatred of the Baptist and the fallout from John's imprisonment and then ugly beheading. And he certainly did not want to tangle with the chief Jewish priest Caiaphas-- a political appointment who straddled the two political powers: a Jewish priest who held power at the pleasure of his Roman masters. Pilate dismissed Jesus. But I asked Joseph about Jesus, and he looked alarmed. Then he got the strangest look on his face, and said, "Claudia you will have to see for yourself. He's coming into Jerusalem soon."

Now, our official residence was the palace of Herod at Caesarea; there Pilate commanded a military force of about 3,000 soldiers. But at the times of religious feasts, These soldiers came up to Jerusalem for the city became swelled with thousands of strangers. These soldiers were deployed in order to deter and quell disturbances. Hence it was that we had come to Jerusalem at the time of the Passover.

A few days after we had arrived from Caesarea, Pilate reared back in his chair and said, "Claudia, stay in your quarters tomorrow. The Nazarene is going to enter Jerusalem and I don't want you on the streets." Stay in my quarters? Who did Pilate think I was? I did not need to be told about politics; I knew far better than Pilate how to behave as the ruler of conquered peoples. That's why Pilate married me! Stay in my quarter indeed. I went. Of course I went. I went wearing my servants cloak and watched Jesus approach, sitting on a donkey, people yelling and shouting hosanna. The crowd jostled and pressed, then I found myself very near him and he looked right at me and said, DAUGHTER. Me, granddaughter of Caesar Augustus, responded with a spontaneous, "Rabonni!" And then the dream, the nightmare. Have you ever had a dream that clutched you? Clutched you and held you. Tossed you and turned you, horrified you, its fingers unrelentingly digging into your flesh, burning you with the terror that what you have dreamed is not of this world? A dream so terrifying that you awake trembling, for you know not what is dream and what is reality? You awake and you shiver in the dark and cold night and you wish for morning for you fear you will never sleep peacefully again. The dream I had just before the man Jesus was crucified was such a dream. I saw Pilate screaming at the crowds, I heard the pounding of the nails, I smelled blood and flesh, There was an earthquake, God's thunder, and I saw people crumbling, shriveling from the inside out....Then Jesus spoke:" You Claudia, are no pawn, but Pilate is..." So horrendous was it that my own screaming awoke me. Terrified I paced the palace floor for hours, finally falling exhausted on my bed. And then I slept. Oblivious to the morning or even the crow of the cock.

Of all the mornings not to be awake. Of all the mornings not to be able to speak to Pilate before he left. I could have warned him. I could have explained the dream. I could have pleaded for the life of this Jesus of Nazareth! But that morning, he had already gone. "O Pilate, Pilate," I wanted to cry," things are not as they seem!" O Pilate, I wish you were as shrewd as Herod or Caiaphas. How easily you let your ambition blur your vision. How readily your insecurity and fear cowed your courage. This Jesus came before Pilate, and Pilate let the other thief go. Though he knew that Jesus was innocent, in the end he was more committed to avoiding an uprising, to trying to please everyone, than to living in the truth. And it was done. Jesus was condemned.

Six years late, the fears of Pilate were fulfilled, and he was ousted by Vitellius, the Roman High Command based in the region of Samaria. An imposter had given out that it was in his power to discover the sacred vessels which, as he alleged, had been hidden by Moses on Mount Gerizim. But that was sacred ground for the Samaritans, and they came in large numbers to defend the area. Samaritans and Jews were the same to Pilate. Thinking that hostile conflict with the Jews was how a petty ruler woos the tribute of Vitellius, Pilate hurried forces to attack them. Many were slain. In fact, Pilate's soldiers left for dead over a thousand simple people scattered across the hills of Gerizim. Pilate miscalculated, and dawn brought down the wrath of Rome. Such blindness bred by hatred!

We were dismissed from our post. We traveled to Rome to appeal the decision. Before we reached the western side of Rome, my father Tiberius had died. Caligula ruled in his place. My husband fell into further misfortunes under Caligula, and eventually, God forgive, took his own life.

And me? At night, I often cried for all The Jews that he had killed, the fall of every woman, man and child. At night I often dreamed about that face, the face of Jesus, the sound of "daughter" from his lips. And at night, I often thought about the question Pilate had once posed: "What is truth?" If only Pilate had stayed for an answer. Truth, it seems is the end of reckoning. It is the step beyond logic, it is wisdom and righteousness beyond one's own judgment. It seems that Jesus once said, "If you are looking for the way to God, I am the way to God; if you are looking for the truth about God, I am the truth about God; if you are looking for a life that is in communion with God, that life is found in a relationship with me."

I think that truth has more to do with the openness of our heart and mind, than with our intellectual capacity to understand it. My fate was sealed with Pilate. I died a Roman outcast. But do not think I died a bitter or resentful woman. But do not think there were no God, no tender rod to comfort me and lead me through the darkest valleys. You see, however briefly, I knew Jesus alive. And friends, to answer truth with truth, I know him now.

May God be with you.