The Mysteries of the Bible: What Did Pilate’s Wife Dream? (Remnant Newspaper)
Being a pagan, Pilate’s wife conceives of the Savior’s sacrifice on the Cross in terms of comparison with one of the gods known to the Romans, a thought which clearly fills her with astonishment. In a dream she "suffered many things" becuase Pilate was condemning Jesus to death. What, then, did she dream?
The tumult was growing. Caught as if in an inescapable trap between Roman law and the murderous fanaticism of those who wanted to see Jesus the Nazarene dead, Pilate does everything he can to save the unusual accused man. Eager to avoid the dangerously escalating unrest—whose crescendo was easily perceptible—he behaves like a diplomat incapable of heroism. He uses every trick, including the tradition of releasing a prisoner on a holiday. He hopes the crowd will choose Jesus. Without knowing why, he is disturbed by this silent accused man, who, when he does speak, touches Pilate’s mind and heart as if he could see through him. Despite his hopes, the envy of the accusers is implacable (“For he knew that for envy they had delivered him”– Matthew 27:18).
In the midst of the discussions, as if his own inner turmoil were not enough, he receives a message from his wife. Called Claudia by some traditions, and Procula by others, she sends him a note that Pilate, feverish, reads pensively in the judgment seat. The lines from his consort make him frown even more deeply:
“Have thou nothing to do with that just man; for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him.” (“Nihil tibi, et justo illi : multa enim passa sum hodie per visum propter eum.”–Matthew 27:19)
Looking at the turmoil around him as if it were an unbelievable dream, he remains silent as he sees the faces of the accusers twisted by hatred. The Dutch master Hieronymus Bosch would later depict them so vividly in his paintings. After a few minutes of restless reflection, he tries once more to save Jesus, proposing His release under the generous custom of summer clemency. Stubborn, blind, with hearts of stone, the accusers press on to the end. The uproar grows louder and louder. Cowardly and lacking in heroism, Pilate chooses the comfort of convenience over manliness: he washes his hands, releases a scoundrel, and accepts instead the death sentence of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Not even his wife’s warning could make him act like a true Roman. What followed, we know. Yet the question remains: what did Pilate’s wife dream?
Without claiming that the veil of mystery can be lifted, what remains for us is a beautiful, imaginative meditation on one of the mysteries in the lives of those who were direct witnesses to the most important event in all of fallen humanity’s history: the Passion and Death of the King of Kings, Jesus Christ.
First, let us note the nuance introduced in Saint Jerome’s Vulgate: the Greek original word ὄναρ (ónar = dream) is translated as visum (= vision). So not just an ordinary dream, but a vision like the one through which the angel warned Saint Joseph to flee with the divine child and the Holy Virgin Mary to Egypt. Saint Jerome also comments that God granted such a vision to pagan spouses because “the confession of Pilate and his wife that the Lord was innocent is a testimony of the Gentile people.”[1]
As for the source of the vision, the saints offer conflicting interpretations. Some believe that Pilate’s wife’s dream was caused by a malevolent angel—a demon. Among the supporters of this interpretation is the Blessed Benedictine monk Rabanus Maurus Magnentius (c.780–856). Here is what he tells us:
“The devil now at last understanding that he should lose his trophies through Christ, as he had at the first brought in death by a woman, so by a woman he would deliver Christ out of the hands of His enemies, lest through His death he should lose the sovereignty of death.”
Just as the devil brought death into the world after Eve obeyed the serpent, now—through another Eve—he seeks to thwart the plan of the Divine Savior to redeem humanity through His sacrifice on the Cross. The list of those who share Rabanus’s interpretation is impressive, including Saint Cyprian of Carthage (c. 210–258) and the legendary Doctor Mellifluus, Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153). However, the list of those who believe that the angel who caused Pilate’s wife’s dream or vision was a good one is even more impressive: it includes Origen (c.185–c.253), and Saints Hilary of Poitiers (c.310–c.367), John Chrysostom (c. 347–407), Ambrose of Milan (c.339–397), and his brilliant student, Augustine (354–430). Suggesting the positive origin of the dream, Origen speaks in his commentary of the work of Divine Providence, which desired, in fact, nothing less than the conversion of Pilate’s wife:
“The Evangelist did not overlook the matter of divine providence regarding the praise of God, who desired to convert Pilate’s wife in a dream. The woman took it upon herself to prevent her husband from passing sentence against Jesus.”[2]
From this arose the Eastern traditions which, with great exaltation, came to regard Claudia Procula as a saint. Interesting is the interpretation of the Angelic Doctor, Saint Thomas Aquinas, who unifies the two views—thus avoiding any criticism of the saints previously mentioned—through an elegant commentary:
“As regards this vision, we can say that it was caused by God through good angels; or by the devil, who was bent on preventing the passion: for in the passion there was the sin of murder. And in this way it came through good angels; but a good fruit comes out of the passion, so the devil, already perceiving that he was God, and afraid of losing power through the passion, just as he had put it in the mind of Judas to betray him, so also now he wished to prevent it, not because he wanted to prevent the sin, but rather to prevent the fruit of the passion.”[3]
Although not as elegant, the famous 17th-century Jesuit commentator Cornelius a Lapide (1567–1637) stated that it is “more correctly” to assume that Pilate’s wife’s dream was the result of intervention by a holy angel.[4] Despite all these commentaries, the actual content of Pilate’s wife’s dream remains unknown to us. It seems that only poets and writers can attempt to offer a plausible version—without ever being able to claim they have unraveled the mystery.
The fact that she perceives the historical figure of Jesus of Nazareth in such terms shows us that she had already surpassed the pagan understanding of her fellow Romans. Though not necessarily a saint, she was on the path to conversion.
One of the most gifted modern English-speaking writers, Dorothy Leigh Sayers (1893–1957), imagines such a version in her radio play The Man Born to Be King. Written between 1940–1941, the play was broadcast in episodes on BBC Radio from December 21, 1941, to October 18, 1942. Here, in the 6th sequence of the Second Scene (Calvary Hill), Pilate asks his wife about the content of the dream. Though purely fictional, the response imagined by the English author is truly remarkable:
“Claudia: I was in a ship at sea, voyaging among the islands of the Aegean. At first the weather seemed calm and sunny—but presently, the sky darkened—and the sea began to toss with the wind. . . .
(Wind and waves)
Then, out of the east, there came a cry, strange and piercing…
(Voice, in a thin wail: “Pan ho megas tethnke - Pan ho megas tethnke-”)
…and I said to die captain, ‘What do they cry?’ And he answered, ‘Great Pan is dead.’ And I asked him, ‘How can God die?’ And he answered, ‘Don’t you remember? They crucified him. He suffered under Pontius Pilate’ . . .
(Murmur of voices, starting almost in a whisper)
…then all the people in the ship turned their faces to me and said: ‘Pontius Pilate’…
(Voices, some speaking, some chanting, some muttering, mingled with sung fragments of Greek and Latin liturgies, weaving and crossing one another: ‘Pontius Pilate… Pontius Pilate… he suffered under Pontius Pilate… crucified, dead and buried… sub Pontio Pilato… Pilato… he suffered… suffered… under Pontius Pilate… under Pontius Pilate…)
... in all tongues and all voices …even the little children with their mothers...
(Children's voices: ‘Suffered under Pontius Pilate… sub Pontio Pilato… crucifix sous Ponce Pilate… gekreuzigt unter Pontius Pilatus… and other languages, mingling with the adult voices: then fade it all out)
…your name, husband, your name continually—‘he suffered under Pontius Pilate’.”[5]
Being a pagan, Pilate’s wife can only conceive of the Savior’s sacrifice on the Cross in terms of comparison with one of the gods known to the Romans. Yet even so, the sheer thought of the death of a god clearly fills her with astonishment. The fact that she perceives the historical figure of Jesus of Nazareth in such terms shows us that she had already surpassed the pagan understanding of her fellow Romans. Though not necessarily a saint, she was on the path to conversion.
This is how Dorothy Leigh Sayers resolved the mystery of Pilate’s wife’s dream. Without claiming that the veil of mystery can be lifted, what remains for us is a beautiful, imaginative meditation on one of the mysteries in the lives of those who were direct witnesses to the most important event in all of fallen humanity’s history: the Passion and Death of the King of Kings, Jesus Christ.