Under Rome: Power, Taxes, Soldiers, and the Cross in the Time of Jesus
The Gospels give us names such as Tiberius, Pilate, and Herod the tetrarch, but they don’t really explain who these men were, how they were connected, or the land they controlled. The first readers lived under these rulers and knew firsthand what those names meant, but we have to dig a little deeper to understand the depth of Rome’s power in the ancient land.
In our last article, we looked at the major groups in the world of Jesus: Pharisees, Sadducees, scribes, the Sanhedrin, Herodians, and the Zealots. Those names belong to Jewish life, but some of them only come into focus when you can see the power standing behind them. Herodian power is especially hard to understand without that larger world. That world is Rome.
Roman control over the Jewish homeland had begun much earlier, when the Roman general Pompey captured Jerusalem in 63 BC. By the time of Jesus, Rome had been part of the political reality for generations.
Rome did not replace the homes, meals, synagogues, and festivals we have already walked through. Families still gathered for Sabbath, fishermen worked the lake, and pilgrims still went up to the Temple. All of it was lived under Roman authority. Ordinary people did not need to see the emperor to feel imperial power. They encountered it in the name of a city, in coins, in what they owed, and in the official who appeared when Jerusalem filled for a festival.
Most of the people Jesus met never wore a political label. They were not tetrarchs or governors. They were the same households and crowds we have been following through the last several articles. The rulers matter because the Gospels keep naming them, and because Jesus walked from one kind of rule into another without ever leaving Caesar’s shadow.
The Rulers of the Land
Luke’s List of Rulers
Luke puts the whole arrangement in one sentence, and he does it before John the Baptist ever opens his mouth in the wilderness.
“Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and the region of Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, while Annas and Caiaphas were high priests, the word of God came to John the son of Zacharias in the wilderness” (Luke 3:1–2).
This is not decoration. It is a map.
Tiberius Caesar stands first because he stands over everyone else. He is the emperor. Pontius Pilate is the Roman governor of Judea. By Jesus’ public years, Judea, Samaria, and Idumea are under direct Roman administration. Pilate’s ordinary seat is Caesarea on the coast, though the governor was present in Jerusalem when major festivals filled the city. Herod in this verse is Herod Antipas, tetrarch of Galilee and Perea.
A person around Nazareth or Capernaum did not have Pilate as the nearest throne. That throne was Antipas, and even it existed because Rome allowed it. He named his capital on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee Tiberias, after the emperor.
Philip and Lysanias are there because Luke is stacking jurisdictions, not because we need their borders. Annas and Caiaphas bring the Temple into the same sentence. When the word of God comes to John the Baptist, civil power and priestly leadership are already in place.
After the Kingdom Was Divided
The list looks like that because the old kingdom did not stay whole. Herod the Great had ruled the Jewish homeland as a king under Rome. When he died in 4 BC, none of his sons inherited his title as king. The land was divided.
Three of Herod’s sons received portions of his former kingdom: Archelaus, Herod Antipas, and Philip. Archelaus received Judea, Samaria, and Idumea and was given the title of ethnarch, a lesser title than king. His territory amounted to roughly half of Herod’s former kingdom. Antipas received Galilee and Perea as tetrarch. Philip was also named tetrarch over territories to the north and east. By this time, “tetrarch” was a title for a subordinate ruler over part of a territory, not necessarily someone ruling a literal one-fourth.
These rulers held real local authority, but their position depended on Rome. Rome expected dependent rulers to remain loyal, keep order in their territories, meet its financial demands, and provide support when needed. As long as a ruler remained useful and his territory stayed stable, Rome had little reason to replace him.
Archelaus did not last. His rule became so troubled that both Jewish and Samaritan delegations, despite the deep tensions, appealed to Augustus. In AD 6, Rome removed and exiled him, and his territory came under direct Roman administration through a prefect. By the time of Jesus’ ministry, that office was held by Pontius Pilate. The Gospels call him governor; his formal Roman title was prefect of Judea.
That is why Luke can name Pilate in Judea and Antipas in Galilee at the same time.
Matthew notices the difference without taking the time to explain it. When Joseph, Jesus’ earthly father, heard that Archelaus was reigning over Judea, he was afraid to go there and turned aside into Galilee (Matthew 2:22). He was not studying political geography; he was deciding where to raise a child.
This also helps untangle one of the confusing things about the Herods in the Gospels. The “King Herod” of Matthew’s birth account is Herod the Great, who died in 4 BC. The Herod Jesus encounters during His ministry is his son, Herod Antipas. Matthew places Jesus’ birth before Herod the Great’s death, which is one reason the birth of Jesus is commonly dated a few years before AD 1, often around 6–4 BC.
The Herod Jesus Met
The Gospels do not keep Antipas at a distance. John the Baptist confronted him, and Antipas locked him up, then had him beheaded (Luke 3:19–20; Matthew 14:1–12; Mark 6:14–29). Within his own territory he could arrest a prophet and kill him. Pilate never enters that account. Later, some Pharisees warn Jesus that Herod wants Him dead. Jesus answers, “Go, tell that fox,” and keeps walking (Luke 13:31–32). Mark often calls him “king.” Luke usually stays with “tetrarch.” In Galilee he was the nearest thing to a king the people had. In Rome’s accounting he was still a dependent ruler.
That mix is why the Herodians make sense. They are not a second Pharisee party. They are aligned with the Herodian house, and twice Mark shows them standing with Pharisees against Jesus: after a Sabbath healing, and when they ask about tribute to Caesar (Mark 3:6; 12:13). They do not have to share a theology. They only have to agree that Jesus has become a problem.
At the Passion the two arrangements meet in one city. Pilate hears that Jesus is a Galilean and sends Him to Antipas, who is also in Jerusalem at the time (Luke 23:6–12). The tetrarch questions Him, mocks Him, and sends Him back. The case still returns to the Roman governor. Antipas was not Caesar, but in Galilee he was what Roman-backed power looked like up close.
Tribute, Tolls, and the Temple Tax
Taxes were one of the clearest ways government reached ordinary life. Rome drew revenue through direct tribute, while other payments were attached to roads, markets, goods, and trade. Alongside those political demands stood another payment entirely: the Jewish contribution connected to the Temple in Jerusalem.
Imperial tribute belonged to Rome’s system of direct taxation. It was not a toll paid for using a road or moving goods; it was money owed because the land and its people stood under Roman rule.
The Herodians and Pharisees appear together again with a question meant to split the room: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” (Mark 12:14). If He says yes, He sounds like a man who has made peace with Rome. If He says no, He sounds like a man the governor can charge. Mark says they were trying to “catch Him in His words” (Mark 12:13).
Jesus asks to see the coin, “Bring Me a denarius that I may see it.” Then He asks, “Whose image and inscription is this?” They answer, “Caesar’s.” He replies, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Mark 12:15–17).
The coin in that scene is a denarius, the silver piece used for the imperial tribute. Many readers picture the well-known denarius of Tiberius, with the emperor’s portrait and titles on it, and that is likely the sort of object in view. We cannot say it was that exact issue, but we can say the trap depends on a coin that already announces Caesar in metal. His image is on it. His claim is written on it. And someone in the Temple precincts is carrying it.
That payment is not the only money problem in the Gospels, and it is not the same as every “tax” the disciples encounter.
Tolls and customs worked differently. Fees could be charged as goods and people passed through roads, harbors, markets, and territorial boundaries, and collection was often handled through local contractors. Not every coin collected at one of these booths was the same tribute being demanded in Caesar’s name.
Matthew, Mark, and Luke all show a tax collector sitting at one of these booths. Mark and Luke call him Levi; Matthew’s Gospel names the man at the booth Matthew (Mark 2:14; Luke 5:27; Matthew 9:9). Church tradition has long identified them as the same man, the apostle Matthew.
Many of those collectors worked around roads, harbors, crossing points, and trade. Their work tied them to unpopular rulers and systems of extraction, and the system left room for abuse. That is why a meal in Matthew’s house costs something socially. Jesus is not dropping in on a neutral clerk. He is sitting with men whose work placed them inside a deeply unpopular system of collection.
Then there is a third payment, and it comes from a different world. In the first century, Jews contributed an annual half-shekel for the worship and needs of the Jerusalem Temple. That connection to Jerusalem reached beyond Judea and Galilee to Jewish communities scattered much farther away.
In Capernaum, collectors of the Temple tax ask Peter whether his teacher pays it (Matthew 17:24–27). This is the half-shekel, or two-drachma payment, due for the sanctuary. It is a Jewish obligation connected to the house of God, not Caesar’s tribute and not a lakeside toll. Jesus’ answer in that scene is about sons and strangers and the Temple, not about Tiberius.
Soldiers, Roads, and Festival Jerusalem
Power in this world did not only live in palaces and coins. It could tap a civilian on the road and put a pack on their shoulders.
“And whoever compels you to go one mile, go with him two” (Matthew 5:41). The saying assumes a known practice. Officials and soldiers could impress someone for service or transport. The burden could include carrying loads, providing animals or transport, or being pressed into service for an official need. Jesus is not inventing a proverb about extra kindness; He is talking to people who knew what it meant to be pulled into someone else’s service.
The roads themselves were older than Rome. Merchants, pilgrims, officials, and ordinary travelers had used the region’s routes for generations. Roman and Herodian rule did not create that movement, but it placed officials, taxes, military demands and political boundaries along the way.
Capernaum on an ordinary day was not Jerusalem at Passover. Pilate normally governed from Caesarea. At Passover he was in Jerusalem, when the city was swollen with pilgrims and the political temperature was very different. Passover carried its own political memory as well: Israel was gathering to remember deliverance from foreign bondage while living under another foreign power. That is why the Passion feels hotter than a lakeside village. The same empire stands over both places.
A Gentile officer in Capernaum belongs in that picture, and his role is easy to miscast. Matthew and Luke call him a centurion. He commands soldiers, has a household, and the Jewish elders speak well of him (Matthew 8:5–13; Luke 7:1–10). The title does not by itself prove that a permanent Roman garrison stood in Capernaum. The town belonged to Antipas’ Galilee, and Antipas maintained forces of his own.
The officer himself is remembered for something else. He believes Jesus can heal with a word. Jesus marvels at his faith and says He has not found such faith in Israel.
The Charge Rome Would Recognize
From the Council to Pilate
The council can accuse Jesus, but the Roman execution that follows requires Pilate.
John puts the limit on their own lips. They bring Jesus to Pilate and say, “It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death” (John 18:31). How far that limit reached in every case is a question scholars still argue. We’re not going into the whole argument, but what matters here is that Pilate’s authority is necessary for the Roman sentence that follows. That is why the case moves.
Pilate is not being asked to settle a Sabbath dispute; he is being asked to treat Jesus as a threat to order. Blasphemy, as the council understood it, would not put a man on a Roman cross. “King of the Jews” might. The charge has to change clothes before it can travel from one court to the other.
Luke makes that change explicit. When the leaders bring Jesus before Pilate, the accusations are no longer framed only in the language of the council. They say, “We found this fellow perverting the nation, and forbidding to pay taxes to Caesar, saying that He Himself is Christ, a King” (Luke 23:2). The language has shifted: nation, Caesar, kingship. Pilate’s first question follows naturally: “Are You the King of the Jews?” (Luke 23:3).
Whatever Rome made of the religious dispute behind the case, a claim to kingship was something a Roman governor had to hear politically.
Mark sets another man beside Him. Barabbas had been bound “with his fellow rebels; they had committed murder in the rebellion” (Mark 15:7). The crowd is not choosing between a teacher and a random criminal. Jesus is standing next to a man tied to violent resistance. Pilate’s offer puts two different kinds of danger in the same courtyard.
What Rome Wrote Over the Cross
The pressure tightens around Caesar’s name. “If you let this Man go, you are not Caesar’s friend,” they tell Pilate. A little later the crowd answers, “We have no king but Caesar!” (John 19:12, 15).
Mark calls it “the inscription of His accusation” (Mark 15:26). John gives the words: “JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS” (John 19:19). A notice like that was part of the public message of a Roman crucifixion. It told the watching crowd what the condemned man was dying for. The chief priests want it rewritten. Pilate answers, “What I have written, I have written” (John 19:21–22).
Crucifixion itself belonged to that same public language. It was a degrading Roman punishment, especially associated with slaves, rebels, lower-status offenders, and serious threats to public order.
Rome was not weighing Jesus’ teaching and rejecting it. Rome was answering a political charge with a Roman execution.
Sources and Further Reading
Flavius Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, Book 17. Josephus is the main ancient source for the death of Herod the Great, the division of his kingdom among Archelaus, Antipas, and Philip, and Augustus’s confirmation of their territories and titles. https://penelope.uchicago.edu/josephus/ant-17.html
Flavius Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, Book 18. Useful for the world of Pilate and Antipas, including Antipas’ founding of Tiberias, Pilate’s administration of Judea, and Josephus’s independent account of John the Baptist and his execution by Antipas. https://penelope.uchicago.edu/josephus/ant-18.html
The Pontius Pilate Inscription from Caesarea. Discovered at Caesarea in 1961, the inscription preserves Pilate’s name and his formal Roman title, prefect of Judea. It is especially useful for understanding why the Gospels can describe him broadly as governor while his official title was prefect. https://www.livius.org/articles/person/pontius-pilate/pontius-pilate-8/
Anthony Keddie, Class and Power in Roman Palestine. Chapters 3, “Taxation,” and 4, “Economy of the Sacred,” are particularly useful for distinguishing Roman tribute from tolls and customs, explaining local tax collection, and placing the annual Temple contribution in its first century economic setting. https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/class-and-power-in-roman-palestine/5B1250AEB368712B24A3657ABE112D01
Mark A. Chancey, Greco-Roman Culture and the Galilee of Jesus, chapter 2, “The Roman Army in Palestine.” Chancey’s discussion is helpful for avoiding the common assumption that the Capernaum centurion automatically proves a permanent Roman garrison in Galilee during Jesus’ ministry. https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/grecoroman-culture-and-the-galilee-of-jesus/roman-army-in-palestine/C60A6DDA9FAFFC1603A2F8E65D7448D6
E. Bammel and C. F. D. Moule, eds., Jesus and the Politics of His Day. Several essays directly address material used in this article, including “Render to Caesar,” “The Temple Tax,” “The Titulus,” “The Political Charge Against Jesus,” and “The Trial Before Pilate.” It is especially useful for the way Jesus’ case moves from Jewish accusations into political language a Roman governor would recognize. https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/jesus-and-the-politics-of-his-day/A514B6FADACD6DF0F31331C668C14606