God Knows Every Man

Book Five, Chapter 564

« And you will waste your time for nothing, My dear friend. Because Pilate - you are aware of it as a man, I as God - is but a reed that bends to the side opposite the hurricane, endeavouring to avoid it. He is never insincere. Because he is always convinced that he wants to take action, and he does what he says in that moment. But a moment later, because of the howling of a storm from another direction, he forgets - oh! he does not break his promise or his will - he forgets, just that, what he wanted previously. He forgets because the cry of a will stronger than his makes him lose his memory, it blows away all the thoughts that another cry had placed in it, and replaces them with new ones. And then, above all the storms that with numberless voices, from that of his wife who threatens to separate if he does not do what she wants - and once he is separated from her, that is the end of all his strength, of his protection with "divine" Caesar, as they say, although they are convinced that this Caesar is more abject than they are… But they can see the Idea in the man, nay the Idea annihilates the man representing it, and one cannot say that the Idea is unclean: every citizen loves, and it is fair that he should love his Fatherland, and should want it to triumph… Caesar is the Fatherland… so… also a miserable man is… great because of what he represents… But I did not want to speak of Caesar, but of Pilate! - So I was saying that above all the voices, from that of his wife to those of the crowds, there is the voice, oh! what a voice! of his ego. Of the small ego of the small man, of the greedy ego of the greedy man, of the proud ego of the proud man; that smallness, that greed, that pride want to reign to be great, they want to reign to have superabundance of money, they want to reign to be able to rule over a multitude of subjects stooping to pay homage to them. Hatred is smouldering underneath, but the little Caesar named Pilate, our little Caesar does not see it… He can only see the backs bent feigning homage and fear before him or really feeling both. And because of the stormy voice of his ego he is prepared to do anything. I say: anything. Provided he may continue to be Pontius Pilate, the Proconsul, the servant of Caesar, the Ruler of one of the many regions of the empire. And because of all that, even if now he is My defender, tomorrow he will be My judge, and inexorable. The thought of man is always uncertain. Most uncertain when that man's name is Pontius Pilate. But, Lazarus, you may satisfy Peter… If that is to console him… »

« Not to console me, but… to calm me a little… »

« Then please our good Peter and go to Pilate. »

« I will go, Master. But You have described the Proconsul as no historian or philosopher could have done. A perfect portrait! »

« I could likewise depict every man in his real image: his character. But let us go to these people who are rioting. »