When Pilate Washed His Hands:

Chastity, Consent, Responsibility and the Danger of Looking Away

There is a particular image in the Passion of Christ that has survived for two thousand years because it speaks to something profoundly human: the desire to stand close enough to power to make a decision, but far enough away from the consequences to claim that the decision was not really ours.

Pontius Pilate gives us that image.

When Jesus was brought before him, Pilate questioned Him and found no clear basis for the condemnation demanded by the crowd. In Luke's account, Pilate even sent Jesus to Herod after learning that Jesus was from Galilee. Herod questioned Him and eventually sent Him back to Pilate. The matter had been passed from one authority to another, but responsibility had not disappeared simply because the case had moved from one desk to another.

Then comes the unforgettable gesture in Matthew: Pilate took water, washed his hands before the crowd and declared himself innocent of Jesus' blood. Yet he still released Barabbas and handed Jesus over to be crucified.

The water could wash Pilate's hands.

It could not wash away the decision.

That distinction matters enormously when we think about sexual morality, consent, authority, young people, and the responsibilities that adults have toward one another.

A "No" Does Not Become a "Yes" Because Courtship Has Begun

I am Catholic. I believe, as the Catholic Church teaches, that sexual relations belong within marriage. The Catechism describes chastity not simply as abstaining from sex, but as the integration of sexuality into the whole person and as an apprenticeship in self-mastery.

But there is another truth that must be stated just as plainly:

A person who does not share Catholic teaching about premarital sex still has an absolute human right not to be sexually assaulted.

These are not contradictory propositions.

People have sex before marriage. People enter relationships that never become marriages. People fall in love and fall out of love. People make moral choices with which the Church disagrees. None of those facts erase the requirement of consent.

If a man is pursuing a woman and she repeatedly says no, the answer is no.

If she says no when he asks her out, it is no.

If she says no after spending time with him, it is no.

If she changes her mind halfway through, it is no.

If she once said yes but now says no, it is no.

If she kissed him yesterday but does not want to have sex today, it is no.

And if she has previously had consensual sex with him, that still does not create an entitlement to sex tomorrow.

A previous yes is not a permanent contract.

That should not be controversial.

Fortitude Is Required Where Power Is Unequal

The circumstances become even more serious when there is an imbalance of power.

Perhaps she lives under your roof.

Perhaps you are her employer.

Perhaps you supervise her at work.

Perhaps you are wealthy and she is poor.

Perhaps you are older, stronger, socially powerful, academically senior, financially dependent upon, or otherwise capable of affecting her future.

In such circumstances, simply saying, "She could have left," or "She could have said no," can be an inadequate understanding of human relationships.

The person with greater power has a greater obligation to exercise self-command.

That is where fortitude matters.

Fortitude is not merely the courage to pursue what one desires. Sometimes fortitude means having the strength to refuse one's own desire.

It means recognizing that another human being is not an opportunity.

It means knowing when attraction must stop.

It means understanding that authority can make an ordinary proposition feel like a command.

And it means having enough discipline to walk away before tomorrow morning brings a completely different understanding of what happened the night before.

Wrong is wrong. Wrong remains wrong even when circumstances make it tempting.

The Cornell Case and the Danger of Passing Responsibility Along

The recent Cornell case provides a painful contemporary context for considering these questions.

A former Cornell student, identified in court documents as Jane Doe, alleges that she was sexually assaulted by multiple members of the Chi Phi fraternity at a fraternity house in October 2024. She has filed a civil lawsuit against seven fraternity members and other parties. Prosecutors initially did not bring criminal charges, but the investigation has now been reopened following the lawsuit and the emergence of additional material. Cornell separately conducted a disciplinary investigation, resulting in sanctions against students and the closure of the fraternity chapter.

The allegations remain allegations. The criminal investigation is ongoing, and the accused are entitled to due process. That distinction matters.

But the case nevertheless raises a larger question that extends beyond Cornell:

What happens when responsibility keeps being passed from one person, office, institution or authority to another?

This is where the image of Pilate becomes useful—not because Cornell officials are Pontius Pilate, and not because the circumstances are identical, but because the underlying human temptation is recognizable.

One person says, "Someone else should handle this."

Another says, "The evidence is complicated."

Another says, "This is outside my authority."

Another says, "We followed procedure."

Another says, "We investigated."

Another says, "The matter is now before someone else."

And eventually everyone may be able to point somewhere else.

Yet the person who has been harmed does not experience a chain of administrative responsibility.

She experiences what happened to her.

Institutions have procedures because facts matter, accused people have rights, and serious allegations must be investigated fairly. But procedure should never become a moral hiding place. Nor should uncertainty about criminal liability be confused with uncertainty about the importance of protecting human dignity.

The question is not simply, "Who is legally guilty?"

There is another question:

"Who had a responsibility to act wisely, carefully and humanely when the warning signs appeared?"

Washing Hands Is Not the Same as Being Innocent

This is perhaps the hardest lesson in Pilate's story.

Pilate says, in effect, This is not my responsibility.

Then he makes a decision.

That is precisely why the hand-washing has become such a powerful metaphor. It represents the human desire to separate oneself from an outcome while still participating in the chain that produced it.

We do this in families.

We do it in schools.

We do it in workplaces.

We do it in churches.

We do it in universities.

And we do it in relationships.

A parent may say, "I told her to be careful."

A friend may say, "I knew something was wrong, but I didn't want to interfere."

A boyfriend may say, "She came home with me."

A supervisor may say, "She never formally complained."

An institution may say, "We followed our process."

A community may say, "Nobody could have known."

Sometimes those statements may contain relevant facts.

But none of them should become an excuse for abandoning good judgment.

Chastity Is More Formidable Than Abstinence

This is why I find the Catholic understanding of chastity so much more formidable than simply telling young people, "Don't have sex."

Chastity requires self-mastery.

The Catechism describes it as an apprenticeship in freedom: the person learns to govern his or her passions rather than allowing passions to govern the person.

That applies to men.

It applies to women.

It applies to married people.

It applies to unmarried people.

It applies to teenagers.

It applies to the powerful person who could get away with something.

It applies especially when nobody is watching.

The Catholic understanding is also clear that sexual intercourse belongs within marriage.

But chastity is not merely about preventing intercourse.

It is about learning how to look at another human being without turning that person into an object of appetite.

It is about learning restraint before restraint becomes desperately necessary.

It is about knowing that desire is not authority.

Wanting something does not give us the right to take it.

Parents, We Have to Have the Difficult Conversations

Parents have an enormous responsibility here.

It is not enough to tell children that sex is beautiful.

It is beautiful.

It is not enough to tell them that love is wonderful.

It is.

It is not enough to tell teenagers that relationships can be exciting, romantic and meaningful.

They can.

But children also need to hear the cautionary part of the story.

They need to hear about heartbreak.

They need to hear about pregnancy.

They need to hear about sexually transmitted infections.

They need to hear about relationships that become controlling.

They need to hear about sexual pressure.

They need to hear about alcohol and drugs and impaired judgment.

They need to hear about coercion.

They need to hear about what happens when two teenagers who believe they are "just having fun" discover that pregnancy is not temporary.

They need to understand that a baby is not an accessory to a teenage romance.

They need to understand that education, housing, finances, career plans and family relationships can all be affected by an unexpected pregnancy.

They need to hear that dreams can become more complicated overnight.

And they need to hear that boys have responsibilities too.

This cannot become a lecture aimed exclusively at girls.

Teach your sons that masculinity does not mean conquest.

Teach them that persistence is not romantic when the other person has already said no.

Teach them that being physically capable of taking something does not mean they have permission to take it.

Teach them that a woman's vulnerability is not an invitation.

Teach them that self-control is strength.

And teach your daughters that they are allowed to leave uncomfortable situations, to say no, to change their minds, to seek help and to expect their boundaries to be respected.

Contraception Is Not a Substitute for Formation

Some parents respond to the dangers of teenage sex by trying to reduce the consequences: contraception, medical appointments, warnings about sexually transmitted infections and instructions about safer sexual practices.

Those conversations can address real physical risks, but they cannot substitute for moral formation.

And from a Catholic perspective, contraception itself is contrary to Church teaching; the Catechism teaches that responsible parenthood does not justify morally unacceptable means such as contraception.

More fundamentally, however, no contraceptive can teach a sixteen-year-old how to recognize coercion.

No contraceptive can teach a seventeen-year-old boy that "no" means no.

No contraceptive can give a young woman wisdom about whom she should trust.

No contraceptive can prevent heartbreak.

No contraceptive can guarantee fidelity.

No contraceptive can make an unhealthy relationship healthy.

And no contraceptive can wash away responsibility after someone has crossed another person's boundaries.

Medical prevention has its place in public-health conversations. But parents should not confuse reducing one category of risk with preparing a child for the moral and emotional reality of sexual relationships.

Children need formation, not merely equipment.

Do Not Send Children Into Darkness Without a Map

There is a difficult sentence every parent eventually has to confront:

You cannot control every decision your child will make.

You cannot follow your daughter into every bedroom.

You cannot follow your son to every party.

You cannot monitor every text message forever.

You cannot prevent every bad decision.

But you can give them a moral vocabulary before they need it.

You can tell them what love is—and what it is not.

You can tell them that attraction is not permission.

You can tell them that pressure is not romance.

You can tell them that secrecy is sometimes a warning sign.

You can tell them that alcohol and drugs can radically complicate consent and judgment.

You can tell them that a person who truly loves them will respect their boundaries.

You can tell them that they never have to exchange their dignity for affection.

And you can tell them that if they make a mistake, they should come home.

That last part may be the most important.

A child who believes, If I tell my parents what happened, my life will be over, may remain silent precisely when help is most needed.

A child who knows, My parents may be angry, but they will come for me, has somewhere to go.

The Morning After

There is a reason the phrase "tomorrow morning" matters.

At night, everything can appear different.

Desire is powerful.

Alcohol changes judgment.

Peer pressure changes judgment.

Infatuation changes judgment.

Power changes judgment.

Fear changes judgment.

And then morning comes.

The lights are on.

The party is over.

The messages remain on the phone.

The memories remain in the mind.

The consequences begin.

This is the moment when we discover whether we exercised judgment before we needed to explain ourselves.

The Catholic moral tradition asks something demanding of us: self-mastery before catastrophe, not remorse afterward.

Pilate washed his hands after the pressure had reached its climax.

But the water did not change what happened next.

Perhaps that is the lesson worth carrying into our homes, our schools, our workplaces, our universities and our relationships:

Do not wait until tomorrow morning to decide what you should have done tonight.

Have the courage to stop.

Have the courage to say no.

Have the courage to respect another person's no.

Have the courage to leave.

Have the courage to intervene when something is wrong.

Have the courage to protect someone who is vulnerable.

Have the courage to exercise restraint when you possess greater power.

And, above all, have the courage to take responsibility before responsibility has to find you.

Because you can wash your hands.

You cannot always wash away the consequences.