“We found this man saying he was Christ the King.”
Perhaps Pilate was remembering his troubled past, the servitude of his ancestors, some problem, for he hesitated, suspecting a ruse, that the priests were deceiving him. He must have known that I had not preached revolt.
“Are you king of the Jews?” he asked, motioning me to come closer. “Your people have brought you here. What have you done?”
“My kingdom is not of this world.”
“Are you a king?”
“I was born to bear witness to the truth.”
Pilate shrugged.
“What is truth?” He resumed his seat.
I did not respond.
“What is truth?” he repeated. He waited a little while and then said, looking at me closely: “I find no fault in this man.”