Pilate

It was so easy
to be brutal.
Everyone understood
brutality.
It was what made the world run.
It was what kept us in power.
(where we deserved to be.)
No-one got anywhere
by being ‘soft’.
There was no doubt
that we were superior.
But ‘they’ didn’t think so.
‘They’ had such a high opinion
of themselves.
‘They’ looked down their noses
at us.
‘They’ claimed to be
The Chosen Race.
Huh!
We,
I, would sort them out.
I would put a stop
to this attitude.
I would win.
I would show them
who was boss.
Any wrong-doing;
any transgression
and they would pay.
Like I said -
everyone understood
brutality.
And then I heard of
this man;
this preacher
who was gaining disciples.
He intrigued me.
For a start
he didn’t condone violence.
And, if that was true,
he couldn’t possibly be a threat
to me,
could he?
I couldn’t fathom
his game plan.
And what was more intriguing,
his own leaders
had turned against him.
Well,
let them deal with him,
and then the problem,
if there was a problem,
would be solved.
I was not going to lose sleep over it.
But then,
quite out of the blue,
the ‘problem’
was put firmly in my lap.
To keep the peace
I agreed to meet ‘them’.
And that is how I came face to face
with this man;
the ‘problem’.
Anyone less like a troublemaker
would have been hard to find.
Amidst all the anger;
the hatred,
he just stood there.
He was calm.
He didn’t seem overawed.
He wasn’t rebellious.
He was an enigma
and, despite myself,
I wanted to find out more.
So I questioned him.
I challenged him.
I gave him every opportunity
to defend himself.
I think I wanted him
to defend himself;
to plead with me;
to beg.
But he didn’t.
He just stood there
looking at me;
looking into me even.
It made me uncomfortable.
But,
as I reminded myself,
I was in charge.
I am in charge.
I have the power
and
I will use it.

© Kathleen Wilks