The First Response to Betrayal (26:69-75)
Further, the Matthean/Markan "trial" account probably represents what was more technically a preliminary inquiry in which Jesus' interrogators would be even less likely to regard the rules as constraining (cf. Jn 18:19-24, 28).105 Finally, the Gospel writers probably intended to convey breach of procedure, not to pretend that the mock trial and abuse they depict were standard Jewish custom (cf. Hooker 1983: 86; Rhoads and Michie 1982: 120-21).106
While one cannot prove by historical means the veracity of the contents of the trial narrative at this remove, skepticism that the first followers of Jesus would have had access to such information (e.g., Sanders 1985: 299) also assumes too much. Sources for the trial narrative may derive from Joseph of Arimathea (Mk 15:43), from connections within the high priest's household (Jn 18:15-16), others who later became disciples or sympathizers (Jn 19:39; cf. perhaps Acts 6:7), or Jesus himself (cf. Acts 1:3); it is unthinkable at least that the early Palestinian tradition would have neglected the witness of anyone like Joseph who could have had contacts present at the trial. That leaks from within the Jerusalem council occurred on other occasions in the first century (Jos. Life 204; among other peoples, e.g., Corn. Nep. 4 [Pausanias], 5.1; 14 [Datames], 5.3) does not prove that such a leak occurred in Jesus' case, but it does challenge the claims of those who suppose such a leak implausible.
Even though Mark may have crafted the material in his own words and for his own purposes (see Donahue 1973: 98-99; idem 1979: 62-65; Dewey 1976: 97-100), substantial evidence remains that he accurately preserves "the decisive elements of Jesus' examination before the Sanhedrin in their correct order" (Schubert 1984: 401 ; see 385-402). Some believe that the Romans would have acted without some sort of session from leaders of the municipal aristocracy (Cohn 1977: 109; Flusser 1988: 589), but this does not fit the Roman manner of delegating preliminaries to local officials.
Together the cleansing of the temple (which would offend the Sadducean aristocracy) and crucifixion by the Romans suggest the intermediary step of arrest by the priestly authorities; as Sanders observes, conflict with the Romans, crowds, or Pharisees would not explain subsequent events, but the continuing enmity of the chief priests against Jesus' followers (e.g., Acts 4:1-7; 5:17-18; 9:1-2) points to the priestly aristocracy as the main source of opposition (1985: 286).107 Given high-priestly involvement, the Gospel writers are not so generous as to have alleged even the pretense of a hearing if in fact they had no tradition that one occurred. Like the best modern preachers, the Gospel writers were more interested in applying their text than in creating a wholly new source to be applied.108
Anti-Semites have often exploited the negative portrayal of the aristocracy in Jesus' trial; but their abuse of this narrative attributes to the whole Jewish people blame for the behavior of a political elite other Jewish minorities also complained about (see the excursus on "high priests" on 26:1-16). Despite Matthew's denunciations of Pharisees elsewhere, he adds them to his passion narrative only in 27:62; the miscarriage of justice he recounts is attributed only to the sociopolitical elite.
Most people in mainstream Jewish society presumably respected their law teachers, elders, and priesthood as their spiritual leaders (representatives of these groups constituted the Sanhedrin — see the excursus on the Sanhedrin above), but here most of these spiritual leaders prove too hostile to Jesus to concern themselves with legal ethics. Although exceptions historically existed,109 the overwhelming picture of religious leaders in the Gospels provides a warning to Matthew's own community. It is common practice to follow those in eminent positions, and if those in positions of authority in the church dare forget whose servants they are, they can easily become enemies of their own Lord, vying for the power and honor that rightfully belong to him alone (21:38; 24:45-51).
First, the high priest and council ignore proper judicial procedures (26:57-61). Although we know the rules primarily from later Pharisaic sources that would not reflect the views of most aristocratic priests (the rabbinic portrait of the Sanhedrin itself is severely distorted; cf. Doeve 1954: 37-38,46), parallels between extant Jewish and Roman laws (cf. Cohen 1966) suggest that some procedures the leaders ignore here were standard. Given the reports about the aristocratic priesthood from their Pharisaic and Essene enemies, the improprieties of the priesthood should hardly surprise us. Arguments based solely on the reports of a group's enemies are weaker than evidence from the group itself, but in the absence of other evidence should weigh more than arguments from pure silence. The rest of history testifies that power and dogmatic certainty that one's cause is right prove a deadly combination for those who do not feel constrained to play by the rules, for whom the supposedly just end justifies the means, no matter how religious they may be.
To the extent that the later sources provide a reliable picture of legal ethics that the Sanhedrin would have respected, probable breaches of legality include the following. First, judges must conduct and conclude capital trials during daylight (m. Sanh. 4:1 ; cf. Roman practice in Aul. Gel. 14.7.8); this may, however, explain a late, brief, more official meeting around 5:30 a.m., before conducting Jesus to Pilate (cf. 27:1 ; Lk 22:66-71 ). Further, trials should not occur on the eve of a Sabbath or festival day (cf. m. Sanh. 4:1; Yom Tob 5:2; t. Yom Tob 4:4; Philo Migr. Abr. 91 ; cf. Blinzler 1959: 143-44), but officials may have regarded this as an emergency situation, and a festival was the one sort of occasion when one could most gather the Sanhedrin, if members came from outside Jerusalem (Reicke 1974: 145; but as I argued above, the Sanhedrin was largely drawn from the municipal aristocracy). Even Pharisaic interpretation supported executing an extraordinary offender on a pilgrimage festival to warn others not to repeat the crime (m. Sanh. 11:4; t. Sanh. 11:7; Dalman 1929: 98; Lane 1974a: 529-30); the offenders included those regarded as false prophets, among others (Hill 1979: 52).
Other possible breaches of legal custom occur. Pharisaic rules also required a day to pass before issuing a verdict of condemnation (m. Sanh. 4:1; Wilkinson 1978: 131-32). Still, the Sadducees may generally have preferred speedier executions than the Pharisees thought appropriate (cf. m. Mak. 1:6; the Sadducees did prefer stricter punishments — Jos. Ant. 20.199). Further, the Sanhedrin should not meet in the high priest's palace (Cohn 1977: 98 cites b. 'Abod. Zar. 8b; Sanh. 41b; Shab. 15a); they would soon move, however, most likely to their normal meeting place (probably what rabbinic sources call "the chamber of hewn stone") on or near the temple Mount (m. Midd. 5:5; Sanh. 11:2; Jos. War 5.144; Wilkinson 1978: 86-87; Brown 1994: 350).
Most obviously, Jewish law opposed false witnesses. The biblical penalty for false witnesses in a capital case was execution (Deut 19:16-21), and later Jewish ideals, at least, continued to regard this penalty as appropriate (Jos. Ant. 4.219; 11QTemple 61.7-11; m. Mak. 1:7; t. Sanh. 6:6; Sifre Deut. 190.5.1), as did Roman law (Ferguson 1987: 51).110 Cross-examination of witnesses was standard in Jewish law (e.g., Sus 48-62; m. 'Abot 1:9; Sanh. 5:1-4; tos. Sanh. 6:3, 6; Sifre Deut. 93.2.1; 149.1.1-2; 189.1.3), and apparently the examiners did their job well enough here to produce contradictions they did not expect.111 In the end, these witnesses could provide only a garbled account of Jesus' proclamation of judgment against the temple (cf. Jn 2:19; Acts 6:14), which could have seemed to the Sanhedrin political reason enough to convict him (cf. comment on 21:12-17; Lane 1974a: 534; Brown 1994: 458; Stanton 1995a: 180-83).112
On the claim in 26:61, see comment on 24:1-3.113 While later Christians might have invented the story of a general charge of blasphemy, they would hardly have invented this charge that Jesus threatened to destroy the temple (Sanders 1985: 71-74; Theissen 1991: 113, 194; Brown 1994: 454-60).114 While Pharisees might dispute the nature of Sabbath law with Jesus (cf. 12:2), the Sanhedrin would hardly assemble to address such an offense (pace Stauffer 1960: 122-23; Tert. Spec. 30; Hill 1985 also thinks the Sanhedrin tried Jesus as a "seducer"); the real charge is profaning the temple, hence by implication insulting or blaspheming God (cf. comment on 21:12-17). From their vantage point after 70, Matthew's audience (in contrast to earlier disciples) may well wonder if the false witnesses did not utter words that proved partly truthful. But at any rate, the high priest must choose another tack; even a court as slanted as this one will not admit evidence from witnesses whose testimony was inconsistent (see Trites 1977: 186; Stauffer 1960: 123-24). Thus for the Jewish court (as opposed to Pilate) the chief priest seeks a new charge in 26:62-68: blasphemy (Blinzler 1959: 170).
Second, when the truth is revealed, it often merely increases the opposition of the powerful predisposed to reject it (26:62-68). The high priest stood (following biblical legal custom — see Trites 1977: 187; but cf. Stauffer 1960: 123) and gave Jesus the opportunity to defend himself, as Jewish law demanded (26:62), but Jesus chose to remain silent (26:63; cf. Is 53:7; Stauffer 1960: 125-26; Argyle 1963: 207).115 Perhaps exasperated, the high priest seeks to place Jesus under the curse of an oath, crying "I adjure you." This was the beginning of an oath formula often used to secure testimony (m. Shebu. 4:5-13) or to produce other action (e.g., 2 Tim 4:1).116
Here the high priest explicitly asks Jesus if he claims messianic authority (26:63). Some doubt that the high priest would have asked such a question, skeptical that Jesus' ministry had hinted at this role (Sanders 1985: 297) or supposing that such a charge would have been invented by later Christian dogmatics (Bousset 1970: 73). But given his earlier hints in public parables in Jerusalem (21:37-39; Kingsbury 1986: 87) and the charge on which Pilate executed him (27:11, 29, 37), some question of this nature is not unlikely. Nor is the answer in-congruent with Jesus' self-identity reflected in actions like the triumphal entry and act in the temple on one hand, and eschatological teaching about the Son of Man (see Introduction) on the other.117 Because Matthew added "Son of the living God" to Peter's confession in 16:16, the high priest's demand may recall that passage for Matthew's audience: Jesus concurred when Peter correctly confessed Jesus' identity, although Peter did not understand the full ramifications of the title; Jesus will surely concur now that another openly confronts him with the matter of his identity.
When Jesus responds, "You said," he may speak ironically for them (cf. Soph. Antig. 576-77). Jesus' answer is probably "affirmative in content, and reluctant or circumlocutory in formulation" (Catchpole 1971: 226; see also Marshall 1990: 86). Jesus' response may not be so much evasive (cf. Cullmann 1956b: 28) as implying that the title was more their choice of wording than his (cf. F. F. Bruce 1972b: 176n.45). Such a response forces his questioner to take responsibility for the claim (26:25; 27:11) — something the priestly aristocracy will ultimately refuse to do (27:43). In a sense, the narrative has allowed the high priest himself to reveal Jesus' identity correctly — though ironically and unintentionally (Hooker 1983: 101-2; cf. Jn 11:50-52). The need to delay the messianic secret now ended, Jesus reveals publicly that he is God's Son(again, 27:54).118 But Jesus must also define the nature of that Sonship; by responding in scriptural allusions (26:64), he defines his mission in terms his interrogators could not misapprehend: he is both Son of Man coming on the clouds (cf. Dan 7:13-14; Mt 24:30) and Lord (Ps 110:1; Mt 22:44).119 The older Greek version of Daniel and second-century rabbinic tradition attest that some viewed Daniel's "Son of Man" in superhuman, almost divine terms (F. F. Bruce 1972b: 198), but the allusion to Psalm 110's "Lord" is considerably clearer, especially for those who knew Jesus' teaching that this represented one greater than a son of David (22:44).
By declaring that "from this point forward"120 Jesus would reign, Jesus may seem to the Sanhedrin to claim that he is going to rule politically despite their power over him. But undoubtedly he means that his reign opens not with power but with the cross. In the words of the Fourth Gospel, the time had come for the Son of Man to be lifted up and glorified (Jn 12:23, 32-33; cf. Is 52:13 LXX). Yet the ultimate fulfillment would occur when even his enemies would see him at his coming in triumph as heavenly ruler (26:64; cf. 24:30; Rev 1:7); that is, though they claimed to judge Jesus now, he would ultimately prove their judge (cf. Kingsbury 1983: 124) — a claim certain to enrage unbelieving leaders who demand honor.121 Nevertheless, Jesus still regards his Father as greater than himself, entitling the Lord at whose right hand he would sit with a standard respectful Jewish circumlocution for God, "power" (Heb. Geburah).122
Such a claim might have been offensive, but at least later the Pharisees, careful to err on the side of leniency in capital cases (contrast the Sadducees — Jos. Ant. 20.199), would not have construed it as technically blasphemous (m. Sanh. 7:5).123 Uninfluenced by Pharisaic details, the high priest might be far less cautious about what he would admit as blasphemy, but messianic claims were not themselves blasphemous (Sanders 1985: 298; idem 1990: 64; Mack 1988: 294). Because the priestly aristocracy perceives Jesus as a political threat to the temple establishment and the peace of the nation, however, and because the charge of threatening the temple (which could also function as blasphemous; cf. 1 Macc 7:35, 38) remained unproved by strict standards of investigation, they need a charge quickly.124 Thus choosing (probably correctly) to construe Jesus' words as associating himself with God's majesty, they may imply that Jesus has lowered God's majesty to his own level (cf. Sanders 1990: 64-67; b. Sanh. 63a).125 Most uses of "blasphemy" in fact were nontechnical (Brown 1994: 522-23; see comment on Mt 9:3). Then again, this may simply represent another example of twisting the rules to get the job done, so frequent in the rest of the narrative; it does fit what we know about some ancient aristocracies dealing with potential troublemakers (cf., e.g., Hanson and Oakman 1998: 94-95).
One could reasonably argue that the Gospels emphasize a Sanhedrin trial so that Jesus dies for religious rather than political reasons (Fredriksen 1988: 117); but the admission of claiming Messiahship in some form would naturally lend itself to the Roman charge of treason; Roman authorities would understand the messianic category in political terms. A messianic claim could be construed as a threat to Rome (cf. Sanders 1985: 55; Schneider 1984: 414); if the Gospels do portray the leaders of the aristocracy as seeking a charge that was more religious than political, their portrait may err by portraying these leaders as more pious (at least outwardly) than they actually were at the trial, rather than less so (a portrait that may fit Matthew's understanding of his own community's opposition; cf. 27:6).
By whatever means they construe his words as blasphemy, the high priest stands to rend his cloak as custom required when one heard blasphemy (m. Sanh. 7:5; cf. b. Mo'ed Qat. 25b-26a; Sanh. 60a; p. Mo'ed Qat. 3:7, §§7-8; Sanh. 7:6, §7), following a traditional behavior for mourning (e.g., Gen 37:34; 44:13; 1 Esdr 8:71 ; 1 Macc 2:14; 4:39-40; 5:14; 11:71; ARN 4, 25A;Char. Chaer. 1.3.4; 3.5.6; 3.10.3; 5.3.4; 7.1.5; Sifre Deut. 43.3.8; p. B. Mes. 2:11, §1; Sanh. 2:1, §4);126 Matthew shifts Mark's undergarments to an outer cloak, perhaps implying the sacerdotal robe (Tasker 1961: 256; but historically cf. Lane 1974a: 538). Whether Josephus merely dramatizes or accurately reports the scenes, he provides evidence that leaders donning sackcloth or rending garments performed a persuasive rhetorical function for the people (Jos. War 2.237, 316), an activity matching Roman custom as well (Dio Cassius R.H. 48.31.6). Dramatic action augmented rhetorical force (Cie. Brutus 55.203; cf. Cie. Verr. 5.62.161; Quint. 6.1.31).127
If he followed what later records deem standard procedure, Caiaphas may have "opened the voting by asking the members to give their verdict." Again, if the court followed the procedure known to us from later sources, in capital cases the clerk began with the votes of the youngest, probably so that they would not be intimidated by their elders (m. Sanh. 4:2; Stauffer 1960: 126; Blinzler 1959: 135; but cf. p. Rosh Hash. 2:6, §9; seated in a semicircle: Ex. Rab. 5:12); but such formality is improbable at this mock trial.128 The spirit of Jewish law opposed condemning a criminal on his own admission (Cohn 1977: 98 cites t. Sanh. 9:1), but the Sanhedrin treats Jesus' words here not as admission of a crime, but as a crime itself, that is, blasphemy, to which they themselves are witnesses, obviating the need for other witnesses (Blinzler 1959: 137; Stauffer 1960: 125; cf. Jer 26:11; Barrett 1978: 528). (For some, one's self-accusation was no less incriminating than capture in the act — Ach. Tat. 7.11.1.) The Mish-nah apparently prohibited witnesses from participating in sentencing the accused (Blinzler 1959: 135, citing m. Sanh. 5:4, which does not make his case),129 but given the political urgency of the moment, it is doubtful that the Sanhedrin would observe such a technicality. Just as their charge of blasphemy is itself blasphemous (12:31-32), so the unjust verdict that Jesus merited death (26:66) ironically visits the same sentence on his judges (5:21-22).
Whatever else may have been illegal, the physical mistreatment of a prisoner certainly was; this behavior would have shamed Jesus as well, for such treatment was inappropriate to the status he had claimed. By ridiculing his prophet status (26:68) — challenging him to fulfill a child's game of guessing — they may imply that they have condemned him as a false prophet according to the rules of Deuteronomy 18:20 (Hill 1979: 52). His very condemnation and likely imminent execution disproved for them his prophecies about the temple and his own imminent enthronement (26:61, 64; Gundry 1982: 547; Brown 1994: 575, 580). The informed reader, by contrast, sees Jesus as the truest prophet of all (Deut 18:15-18; cf. Mt 2:16; 4:2; 5:1; 17:1-5), meaning that his accusers merited judgment (Deut 18:19; cf. Mt 5:22). Yet when they treat Jesus as a false prophet, unrequited blows to the cheek (cf. 5:39; 26:53) demonstrate Jesus' integrity to the audience familiar with his teachings (contrast 23:3); earlier prophets had also been struck on the cheek for their prophecies (1 Kings 22:24; Is 50:6; cf. Mt 5:12; b. Sota 13a). Jesus' opponents mock him "as a false prophet at the very moment when his prophecy about Peter is being fulfilled" (26:69-75; Donahue 1976: 78-79 on Mk 14:65-66).
Because mocking follows both the Jewish and Roman trials in Matthew (following Mark), most scholars think that one account (usually the Jewish) was created from the other (usually the Roman). But the details of the abuse are different in each case, and all four Gospels include the Jewish abuse (Brown 1994: 569); all four also have the Romans mock Jesus as "King of the Jews" before or after the trial. It is thus possible that both mockings have a historical basis, and that Mark has assimilated them to one another and arranged them in such a way as to draw attention to the shameful parallel between the behavior of the religious leaders and the Romans (Brown 1994: 572).130 Jewish holders offered the same kind of beating to Jesus ben Ananias in Jos. War 6.302 before handing him over to the Romans (Brown 1994: 586).131
The political and religious leaders condemn Jesus for blasphemy for claiming simply what God had claimed about him all along (3:17; 17:5; cf. Kingsbury 1983: 151). From Jesus' condemnation as "God's Son" (26:63-68) to the centurion's recognition that Jesus really is God's Son (27:54), the dominant christological title will be "King of the Jews" (so Kingsbury 1983: 151). This title constitutes a double irony in that those who apply it intend it ironically, but the Gospel tradition ironically inverts the irony so that they have described him accurately (cf. 21:5; 27:11, 29, 37).
The First Response to Betrayal (26:69-75)
Cf. Mk 14:66-72; Lk 22:54-71; Jn 18:25-27. The burden of proof rests heavily against those skeptical of the historical substance of Matthew's account in this passage. The earliest Christians, facing hostility from their environment, would not likely have created a story so unflattering to themselves as the abandonment of Jesus by his disciples or denial of Peter (Overman 1996: 369).
Matthew anticipates this section in 26:58 (cf. the "courtyard" in 26:58,69). A reader unfamiliar with the Gospel tradition might find in Peter's "following" (4:20) a sign of hope that at last one of the male disciples will honor Jesus; but most of Matthew's community has probably heard the stories of Peter's betrayal before and instead would react with some apprehension at the forthcoming further example of apostasy.
The primary point of the denial account in Mark is to warn the community about apostasy in the face of persecution (Taylor 1952: 572), and given the threat of severe opposition, the same naturally holds for Matthew as well. By placing two responses to betrayal side by side, Matthew also points out how disciples should respond to their failures in discipleship. Peter wept with remorse (26:75); Judas killed himself (27:5). Only the former was able to return to Jesus.132 The narrative may contain another contrast as well: Peter's denial contrasts starkly with Jesus' faithful confession (France 1985: 382; Theissen 1991: 196).133 The high priest's home, like other homes of the priestly aristocracy in the Upper City, was quite large and wealthy (on the wealth of the priestly aristocracy, see, e.g., Hachlili and Killebrew 1983: 46), hence the massive "gateway" (26:71; cf. Filson 1960: 284; Beare 1981: 524).
First, Peter cared more about his own life than about his Lord's honor (26:69-74) — behavior unacceptable for a disciple (10:32-33). Peter sought to be a disciple; while Jesus' enemies "gathered" (cf. 13:40), Peter "followed" (cf. 4:19; 8:22), but from a distance, to see the "end" (telos — 26:58).134 Denying that one knew another was shameful if the claim was false (e.g., Terence Phormio 392-94). That he would renounce his faith before one of minimal social status (though the high priest's servants wielded considerable power, a "slave girl" would have quite little, and Matthew, unlike Mark, underlines this point with two servant girls — 26:69, 71) increases the heinousness of the denial.135 Peter's wording does the same; "I do not know what you say" and similar formulas represent the emphatic form standard in Jewish law "for formal, legal denial" (e.g., m. Shebu. 8:3, 6; Smith 1951: 35).136 Denials with cursing imply not profanity but invoking a curse upon himself if he were lying (Beare 1981: 524; cf. Meier 1980: 335; e.g., b. Shab. 16b-17a); because he was lying, he was directly violating Jesus' teaching in 5:33-37, but more significantly, he was denying the Lord he had promised never to deny (10:33; 26:35).137 Whereas Jesus fearlessly confessed his identity under oath (26:63), Peter under oath denied knowing Jesus (26:72).
If Daube is right (1969), Peter's denials may increase in intensity. His first denial may simply be an evasion designed to save his life (26:69-70); Judaism considered such an evasion acceptable. (In contrast to Mark, however, Matthew's report of even this first denial is plainly public.) Peter's second denial involves a false oath and is a direct denial (26:72), and his third involves much swearing (26:74). Nearly all Jewish hearers would regard the final form of denial, if it would shame one's allegiance to God, as wrong.
That Peter's speech inadvertently betrays him (cf. Judg 12:6) is not surprising.138 Jewish texts report that Galileans failed to distinguish their gutturals properly (Dibelius 1949: 40). The commonly cited modern idea that Galileans were particularly prone to revolution, however, is questionable; the regional prejudice of Judeans against Galileans is more to the point. Zeitlin and others have argued that Josephus used "Galilean" as a revolutionary rather than geographical title (Zeitlin 1974; Loftus 1975; cf. idem 1977), but this approach omits a significant body of evidence (see Armenti 1981; Freyne 1980; Bilde 1980). At least Cumanus apparently thought that Galilean villagers were sympathetic toward revolutionaries (Jos. War 2.228-29), and Judas the Galilean, leader of the infamous and ill-fated tax revolt during Jesus' childhood, was certainly Galilean.139 Nevertheless, when Josephus's rhetoric is taken into account (e.g., Jos. War 3.41), Galilee was clearly unprepared at the time of the first revolt; it hardly proved an ideal base for Zealot sympathizers (Freyne 1988: 162). Sepphoris, in fact, refused to join the revolt of 66-70, perhaps recalling its earlier destruction under Varus. Further, the messianic uprisings of the Samaritan Theudas and the Egyptian prophet that Josephus reports neither transpired near Galilee nor boasted explicit Galilean support (Freyne 1988: 195). Galilean leaders generally respected Jerusalem's representatives as leaders of their nation (Jos. Life 198). Finally, Jesus hailed from Lower Galilee, which participated in Judean and broader Mediterranean commerce, not from the isolated hills of Upper Galilee or from Judas's Gamala on the other side of the Jordan (Witherington 1990: 88-89, following Meyers 1976; see comment on 4:12-16). Jesus' Galilee was probably no more revolutionary than Judea was.
Nevertheless, the primary significance of Peter's being a Galilean is that he did not belong to the high priest's household, having instead followed the Galilean prophet. Judean regional prejudice against Galilee (cf. Davies 1974: 243) probably contributed to the noteworthiness of this observation. Peter had hoped to follow a Messiah whose kingdom did not involve the cross (16:22); thus he proved unprepared when the time came to take up his cross and follow the Lord (16:24; cf. Dewey 1976: 111). That Peter illustrates Jesus' teaching about discipleship in 16:24-27 indicates Peter's function as a paradigm for disciples: only by counting the cost of following Jesus, only by watching and praying, will disciples be ready when the hour comes for them to share the sufferings of their Lord for his name's sake.
Second, the exposure of disciples' weakness is cause for repentance (26:75; cf. 26:31-32), not sorrow unto death (27:5; cf. 2 Cor 7:10). By juxtaposing two responses to betrayal (26:69-75 with 27:1-10), Matthew forces his audience to confront the appropriate ways to address human failure as disciples. Peter's example warns Matthew's audience to be ready for testing; but it also summons those who have stumbled to return to the kingdom way, and calls upon the community to show mercy to those who have already stumbled but wish to return to the way of Christ (cf. 18:10-35).
The Other Response to Betrayal (27:1-10)
Like Peter, Judas is guilty of apostasy, but unlike that of Peter, Judas's apostasy was premeditated. Whereas Peter's remorse leads to repentance, Judas's leads to terminal despair. This narrative also further indicts the heartlessness of the priestly leadership, who value laws of ritual purity more highly than their God-given responsibility as shepherds of other lives among their people. Lest modern Christians be tempted to conceive these leaders in ethnic rather than political and religious terms, we should take note how many churches today seem more concerned about petty church rules than about the life-and-death needs in the communities around them, and recall that the various groups competing for religious leadership in Jesus' day probably could have justified more of their rules from Scripture than modern religious leaders tend to do. As one scholar opines, "it seems that past attempts by Christians to interpret the Passion in such a way as to condemn modern Jews exemplify the very attitudes the Passion-narratives were designed to challenge" (Wilkinson 1978: 144). Finally, Matthew emphasizes in this narrative that even to the smallest details, the events of the passion fulfilled God's purposes previously revealed in his Scriptures.
Matthew reworks his traditions to emphasize his case. Although this narrative contains prior tradition (cf. Acts 1:18-19), Matthew has clearly reworked it to emphasize a point found in this form in neither Markan nor Johannine traditions. Judas's end (27:3-10) is full of Matthean vocabulary, following the liberty he could take in putting an oral tradition into writing (cf. Van Tilborg 1972b: 83-84).
Although Matthew does not create the story, he may fill in its gaps on the basis of biblical prophecy (Hill 1972: 348). Matthew quotes Zechariah 11:13 as if yoser ("potter") could be read 'oser ("treasury"), revocalizing to provide a new interpretation, as we know later Jewish interpreters often did (Longenecker 1975: 150; cf. Burkitt 1907: 125; Lindars 1961: 118). If the priests prevented the money from making it to the "treasury," Scripture would be fulfilled when it reached the "potter"; "One way or another the prophetic Scriptures must reach fulfillment" (Gundry 1982: 556; cf. Mt 5:18). In its original context (with which Matthew appears familiar), the prophecy referred to how cheaply (at the price of a slave) Israel had valued their shepherd, the prophet (or perhaps God himself), and how he would therefore give them a foolish shepherd so that they might learn by contrast how benevolent the prophet (or God) had been to them (Zech 11:4-17; cf. 13:7-9; Edgar 1958: 50).
By appealing to "Jeremiah" rather than to Zechariah, however, Matthew makes clear that he intends his biblically literate audience to link an analogous passage in Jeremiah (32:6-14) and to interpret them together (as in the gezerah shewah of Mk 1:2-3, which Matthew recognizes and modifies in Mt 3:3).140 In so doing, Matthew reapplies Zechariah's prophecy with a message of Israel's coming restoration in Jeremiah. Matthew may well allude to Jeremiah 18-19 (regarding the potter; cf. Meier 1980: 339; Gundry 1982: 556; Upton 1982) as well; in this case he evokes a prophecy of the impending destruction of Jerusalem (Jer 19:10-13; Mt 27:25).141
The betrayal of innocent blood is central to the narrative. The phrase "innocent blood" reflects substantial LXX influence (it appears there fifteen times; Gundry 1982: 554).142 Ancient Eastern peoples regarded very seriously the guilt of innocent blood, sometimes viewed in terms of corporate responsibility.143 Like Pilate (27:24), the priestly officials want nothing further to do with the situation (27:4), and likewise understand that the blood was innocent (27:6). Meanwhile, leading characters in the narrative who foreshadow oppressors of Matthew's community try to pass off responsibility (cf. Jer 38:5); both aristocratic priests and Pilate declare, "See to that yourself' (27:4, 24, the "you" being emphatic). But contrary to their own interpretation (27:4, 24),144 the whole generation that betrayed Jesus shared in Judas's guilt (27:25). In accepting the blood "upon" them (27:25), they accepted the bloodguilt (cf. Acts 5:28), and hence merited Jesus' pronouncement of vengeance in 23:35. In Matthew's narrative world, their own words have ironically condemned them (12:37).
According to the story line, Judas gets what he deserves. Jewish law prescribed for false witnesses the penalty they had wished to inflict on others (Deut 19:16-21; 1lQTemple 61.7; Ferguson 1987: 51; cf. Sifre Deut. 190.5.1); since the chief priests refuse to serve the cause of justice, Judas has to see to his own execution (Meier 1980: 338-39).145 Roman society, as well as many others in Mediterranean antiquity, regarded suicide as an honorable and noble way to die,146 and in some circumstances many Jews in this period concurred.147 Some therefore think that Judas's suicide, perhaps coupled with his "repentance" (27:3), may suggest his forgiveness (cf. Van Unnik 1974; Moeser 1992; Whelan 1993; tentatively, Davies and Allison 1997: 561-63).148 Admittedly the narrative emphasizes the continuing guilt of the priests more than of Judas, but it hardly absolves Judas of responsibility. Bribery was common enough (Jos. Life 73; War 2.273; Qoh. Rab. 11:1, §1; Acts 24:26), but considered reprehensible;149 ancients particularly despised those who would betray a tie of loyalty for the sake of a bribe (e.g., Demosth. For the Liberty of the Rhodians 23; On the Crown 46-49; On the Embassy 120; Appian R.H. 8.3.17; Corn. Nep. 1 [Miltiades], 7.5-6). Further, Judas's suicide is a death of despair, a dishonorable suicide;150 even Romans generally regarded hanging oneself as a dishonorable death that might preclude burial (Livy 42.28.11-12) or invite a shameful one (Aul. Gel. 15.10.2); and most Jews opposed suicide, at least under most circumstances (Jos. War 3.374-82).
The hanging may well recall the story of Ahithophel's end after his betrayal of David (2 Sam 17:23; Meier 1980: 338; Gundry 1982: 553; Brown 1994: 656-57), which fits some other David/Jesus parallels in the pre-Matthean passion tradition (Davies and Allison 1997: 565-66). But in any case the absence of Judas in either Christian or anti-Christian accounts thereafter confirms that historically he met a speedy end. The account of Judas's speedy death and the "field"151 in Acts (1:18-19) indicates that Matthew depends here on prior tradition, but adjusts the telling of the story midrashically (see the discussion of midrash in the infancy narratives; cf. Cope 1976: 88; Manns 1980b; Gundry 1982: 553; but cf. also the more conservative conclusions of Moo 1983:157-75 on the entire pericope). Judas presumably died without atonement (cf. Jn 17:12), and the narrative underlines that he received his just due (Boring 1995: 154 appropriately cites Suet. Julius 89).
The priestly aristocracy is also guilty. Matthew especially plays on the hypocrisy of the chief priests — willing to pay out blood money for Jesus' capture, willing to allow Judas's suicide,152 but too pious to accept their own blood money into the temple treasury (cf. 23:23-32).153 (Money from the temple treasury apparently paid for all the needs of the city, including water maintenance [Jeremias 1969: 16, citing m. Sheqal. 4:2; b. Besa 29a, bar.], though Pilate's use of such money for an aqueduct was viewed as misappropriation [Jos. War 2.175-76; cf. Ant. 18.60; The Suda in Sherk 1988: 75, §39B].154 Just as ancients in general viewed plundering a temple treasury or stealing an idol as terrible sacrilege,155 so early Judaism viewed plundering their temple as an invitation to judgment [e.g., 4 Macc 4; cf. comment on 25:16].)
Hanging oneself in a place (Diog. Laert. 6.2.61), especially in a sanctuary (Temple Chron. of Lindus in Rhodes D 60-93 in Grant 1953: 12), would defile it, and while Judas left the temple to perform his own execution, the leaders' blatant unconcern for justice or for his life contrasts starkly with their attention to purity on details. By sentencing Judas to take care of his own guilt, they have unconsciously sentenced themselves before God (12:34-37). They do the same by acknowledging that the money is in fact "blood money," and thus that they have paid for the murder of an innocent man (Patte 1987: 377). Although the authorities were careful how they used the blood money (cf. Deut 23:18's prohibition of wages from prostitution), most ancient readers would still assume that its curse remained on them (see Test. Zeb. 3:1-3, where judgment for use of blood monéy obtains despite precautions).
Pilate and others who allow the wrong judgments of others participate in their guilt (27:1-2). By framing Judas's end with the account of Jesus being brought before Pilate (27:1-2, 11), Matthew contrasts Judas not only with Peter but also with the courageous Lord he had betrayed. The theme of shedding innocent blood connects Judas, Pilate, the high-priestly authorities, and the people (27:4-6, 24-25): like Pilate (27:24) the priestly officials wish nothing further to do with the situation (27:4), and likewise understand that the blood was innocent (27:6). The modern Western dichotomy between personal and societal responsibility was foreign both to Matthew and to his Jewish contemporaries.
The "taking counsel" in the morning (27:1) may represent a second hearing of sorts that actually would carry the semblance of legality (also Mk 15:1; Reicke 1974: 146; the syntax here probably reflects a Latin judicial expression, consilium capere — Carson 1984b: 559). Local authorities typically interrogated the prisoner first, preparing the legal charge before bringing the accused before a Roman provincial official (Dodd 1961: 91n.l); in the same manner, the Roman administration permitted the Sanhedrin to charge and hand over one suspected of treason (Winter 1961: 27).156
Ancient readers would not be surprised that the authorities brought Jesus "early," and hence would not be as skeptical as some modern commentators about the eventful night that had preceded that morning. Winter doubts that so much could have occurred in as little time as the Gospel record indicates (1961: 7), but the events fit fairly well into ancient chronology. Like other Roman officials and patrons,157 Pilate would be available from dawn until ca. 11 a.m.; the committee thus had to have the charges settled overnight (Wilkinson 1978: 133; Lane 1974a: 549).158 Winter's doubt that the high priests could gain access to Pilate without advance notice (1961: 29) likewise misses the custom of local leaders visiting Roman officials, the prominent role of the high priests, and the urgency of the charge against Jesus during the crowded conditions of Passover.
Political Expediency versus Justice (27:11-26)
This segment of the narrative has less to do with Jesus than with Pilate; for those reading or hearing Matthew, it is not Jesus but the character of Pilate that is on trial.159 As one proverb observed, Tam de se iudex iudicat quam de reo: "A judge passes judgment on himself as much as on the accused" (Pub. Syr. 698, LCL 106-7). Though Pilate knows the unjust motivation of the charges ("envy" — 27:18; cf. Mk 15:10; Acts 5:17)160 and receives a divine warning (27:19), political expediency takes precedence over justice.
But the narrative does not try Pilate alone: the insistent people, blindly following their blind religious leaders (27:20; cf. 15:14; 23:16), embrace the moral responsibility Pilate seeks to evade. (Perhaps in view of his community's conflict with Jewish authorities or the greater responsibility adhering to those who should know the most, Matthew portrays Pilate as less guilty than Jesus' own people. Washing hands most obviously constituted a repudiation of responsibility for innocent blood in Jewish tradition, as in Deut 21:6-7; Ps 26:6; Is 1:15-16; Ep. Arist. 306; cf. Gos. Peter, fr. 1:1.)161 In the narrative world of Matthew, their acceptance of guilt for Jesus' blood on themselves and the generation of their children (27:24-25) directly invites the catastrophic events of 66-70 (23:29-39).162
The responsibility of freeing Jesus or consenting to the Sanhedrin's condemnation of him fell to Pilate. That Jesus appeared before Pilate163 is an inescapably historical datum; only the governor could order him crucified, and if he wished to follow some semblance of order, he would provide at least a brief hearing. Likewise, Jesus' own countrymen would normally perform the function of delatores, or accusers, to charge him with sedition (Harvey 1982: 16; see Sherwin-White 1978: 47). (The "governor" in Judea in this period was technically a "prefect," rather than the later "procurator," as in Tac. Ann. 15.44; the Gospels simply use the general title "governor," which could have covered either.)164
That Jesus was crucified by the Romans is likewise inevitably historical;165 the Christians would hardly have invented execution at all, but certainly not Roman execution, which would have painted them thereafter as subversives in the Roman world.166 Pilate often went to great lengths to quell so much as public complaints, including violent suppression of a crowd, leading to many deaths (Jos. War 2.176-77; Ant. 18.60-62). Under strict Roman law (sometimes ignored), Roman citizens could not be crucified, but slaves and provincials could be (Stauffer 1960: 131). Although slaves (e.g., Suet. Dom. 10) and dangerous criminals (Suet. Julius 4) were regularly crucified, crucifixions of free persons in Palestine usually involved the charge of rebellion against Rome.167
Excursus: The Sanhedrin and the Sword
The local aristocracy would prepare the charges and suggest action, but Pilate had to pronounce sentence. The governor held the power of life and death in a province (Jos. War 2.117; cf. b. Shab. 108a). Some scholars think that the Sanhedrin could execute capital sentences (Winter 1961: 10-15; Smallwood 1976: 150), but this does not fit what we know of the way the Romans administered their provinces. Acts 23:1 -10 constitutes a preliminary inquiry to formulate a charge (22:30; 23:28-29), not evidence for capital authority (pace Winter 1961: 75-90), even though profanation of the temple (cf. 21:28-29) was the one charge for which the Romans permitted local executions (cf. O'Rourke 1971: 174; Sanders 1992: 61).168
Some rabbinic tradition traces the loss of Jewish courts' capital authority to A.D. 70 (Sifre Deut. 154.1.1 ; b. Sanh. 37b), other tradition to no later than A.D. 30 (p. Sanh. 1:1, §3; 7:2, §3; Safrai 1974/76e: 398 also cites b. Shab. 15a; ‘Abod. Zar. 8b; cf. Abrahams 1917: 73). Although Josephus does not report any precedents unfavorable toward Jewish autonomy, this loss of sovereignty (for so it would be viewed — Ep. Jer. 14) must have begun much earlier. Although Rome delegated the right of the sword to Herod and other client rulers,169 it withheld that right from municipal aristocracies who could employ it against citizens loyal to Rome. Although councils of subject territories could pronounce a death sentence, they had to bring their sentence before the governor for ratification (Blinzler 1959: 164-68; Ramsay 1897: 293). Most scholars thus currently recognize that the Sanhedrin had no capital authority in this period (Jos. Ant. 20.200; Benoit 1973: 1:135; Lane 1974a: 530; Stewart 1975; Sanders 1990: 17; F. F. Bruce 1980b: 12-13). As Roman legal scholar Sherwin-White notes (1978: 36; see more fully 32-43),
When we find that capital power was the most jealously guarded of all the attributes of government, nor even entrusted to the principal assistants of the governors, and specifically withdrawn, in the instance of Cyrene, from the competence of local courts, it becomes very questionable indeed for the Sanhedrin.
The Sanhedrin could sentence offenders and recommend them for execution, but apart from violating the temple few Jewish religious charges would receive an automatic capital sentence from the Romans (e.g., the case of Jesus ben Ananias; Brown 1994: 363-72).
As in normal judicial procedure (e.g., Char. Chaer. 5.4.9; Apul. Metam. 10.7; t. Sanh. 6:3),170 the accusers speak first (27:11-13). Pilate's initial interrogation of Jesus clarifies the charge the Sanhedrin has brought to Pilate: Jesus claims to be a king, which Rome, like the priestly aristocracy, would understand in revolutionary terms (27:11). Whatever the possible religious motivations behind the charge, the charge against Jesus is political: by claiming to be a king, Jesus implied a worldly kingdom that would challenge Rome (e.g., F. F. Bruce 1972b: 199). The political charge in Luke 23:2 accurately summarizes the gist of the charge in Mark and Matthew: Jesus was a revolutionary (Schneider 1984; cf. similarly the Johannine charges — Robinson 1984). This is easily the charge of lese majesty (Blinzler 1959: 213, citing Dig. 48.4.1, 3-4; cf. Bammel 1984b: 357), for which the normal punishment in the provinces was crucifixion (Blinzler 1959: 238). Because Pilate had authority to conduct his inquiry without a jury or dependence even on the Roman ordo, the hearing was merely a cognitio to determine the facts and inform his decision (F. F. Bruce 1980b: 13; Ferguson 1987: 50). Jesus' only answer (27:11; cf. 26:25, 64) in the context affirms the charge (Wrede 1971: 47).
Pilate preferred political expediency to justice, but the political leaders of Jesus' own people appear even guiltier. The narrative portrays those who brought the charge as quite insistent that Jesus be executed, and this behavior is hardly surprising given the situation portrayed. What is instead striking is Pilate's reticence to pronounce sentence; if no Roman citizens were involved, one would expect most governors to act quickly at the local aristocracy's request (cf. Harvey 1982: 17; Sanders 1993: 274; for an impoverished provincial condemned to death without trial, cf., e.g., Apul. Metam. 9.42). The Gospels show that Pilate did indeed act quickly, but they also report his reluctance to do so.
Thus some scholars question whether the Pilate of the Gospels is "in character" with the Pilate known to us from other sources (Winter 1961: 54-55, 60; Borg 1987: 179). Pilate executed people without trial, and excessive use of capital punishment ultimately cost him his office (Philo Leg. Gai. 302; Jos. Ant. 18.88-89; Sanders 1993: 274).171 From what Philo and especially Josephus show us of Pilate's character, any reticence to accept the local leaders' recommendation would be more out of spite for them than concern for justice (cf. Benoit 1973/74: 1:141-42).
Yet this reticence need not be unhistorical. As corrupt as the later governor Albinus was, he dismissed Jesus ben Hananiah from further punishment (after a scourging reportedly bared his bones) once he took him to be insane, hence harmless (Jos. War 6.305). Philo and especially Josephus are ill disposed to report good of Pilate (cf. Brown 1994: 697; Krieger 1995; Thatcher 1995); they seem to have felt that the unrest in Judea was better blamed on deceased prefects like Pilate (once supported by the corrupt Sejanus, still despised, e.g., in Juv. Sat. 10.66, 76, 89-90, 104; Phaedrus 3, prol., 41-44; cf. also Brown 1994: 694 on Philo Flacc. I , Leg. Gai. 160-61) than left with the Judeans themselves. Even as governor, Pilate seems to have been quite unpopular (cf. rumors circulating in Lk 13:1 and Bailey 1980: 75).172
Still, the narratives go to great lengths to emphasize that Pilate cooperated with Jesus' execution against his own preference, and this emphasis is understandable for apologetic reasons. Minority sects often validate themselves through reports of praises by those respected among their oppressors; those writing in socially delicate situations must also show proper deference to officials. Thus, for example, Josephus repeatedly excuses Roman rulers' motives; for instance, Titus wished to spare the temple, but some soldiers failed to cooperate (War 6.254, 258, 260-66), or Titus allowed his soldiers to torture Jews only for good reason (War 5.449-51). The Epistle of Aristeas likewise defends the Ptolemaic ruler's motives against the Jews (Ep. Arist. 14), and Josephus claims that Ptolemy Philadelphus praised Jewish law (Apion 2.45-47). In the same manner, early Christians commending themselves to an audience in the broader Roman world might wish to exonerate the Roman prefect (cf. Sanders 1985: 298; Cohn 1977: 326-27) or even cite in their own defense Roman officials' reticence to condemn them (e.g., Acts 13:12; 18:14-15). Matthew probably writes for a largely Jewish-Christian rather than Gentile audience, but nevertheless has ample reason to emphasize the guilt of Jewish rather than Roman leaders whom he views as predecessors of his own community's opponents. Matthew may use historical tradition yet emphasize what best fits his purposes.
Historically, Pilate may have had good reason for political concern if he erred in judgment. Philo notes Pilate's patron, Sejanus, for his anti-Jewishness (Philo Flacc. 1). If Sejanus was executed on October 19, A.D. 31 (Stauffer 1960: 132; Lane 1974a: 556-57n.34; cf. Sherk 1988: 75-77, §40), some premonitions of his impending weakness might have been felt a year and a half earlier at the more likely time of Jesus' trial near Passover of A.D. 30. (Some, e.g., Jewett 1979: 29, prefer a trial in A.D. 33, but it seems more problematic on other grounds.) Such premonitions are admittedly at best a guess rather than a direct inference from our sources, which, unanimously hostile to Sejanus, suggest that most of those who disagreed with him in Rome would have been more circumspect than to say so. More clearly Pilate, like most provincial officials (see Reicke 1974: 138, 175), was probably politically ambitious and hence could ill-afford bad reports about himself (cf. Malina 1993: 115-16). In contrast to many of his peers in office, Pilate was only an equestrian, and that left him especially vulnerable apart from Sejanus's patronage (on that order, see Jones 1970: 134-40). More to the point, Pilate had incurred the hatred of the Jewish people (e.g., Jos. War 2.169-77; Ant. 18.55-62), and on some other occasions he had backed down to pacify them (Philo Leg. Gai. 301-2; Jos. War 2.171-74; Ant. 18.59). Thus Pilate was not only cruel but, like many bullies, fearful of exposure to those in authority over him (Winter 1961: 53-54).
If anything, this situation would probably require Pilate in time to become more rather than less cooperative with the more powerful of his subjects (cf. Jn 19:12-13); failure to prosecute a potential revolutionary, accused by the leaders of his own people, could lay Pilate himself open to the charge of maiestas (Blinzler 1959: 236; Smallwood 1972: 169). Even the suspicion of treason could be fatal under Tiberius, and despite Sejanus's patronage he likely would not risk it.173 Further, although Jesus may have proved politically innocuous (Cullmann 1956b: 46-47), cooperation with the local aristocracy would be more advantageous politically; that he survived as governor until A.D. 36, long after his patron's demise, suggests that he had belatedly acquired some political savvy.174 Pilate's wife's dream (27:19) thus makes some sense of the hesitation depicted in the four Gospels,175 although we should note that divine intervention by dreams is a specifically Matthean technique (1:20; 2:12, 13, 19, 22; cf. Soares Prabhu 1976: 167),176 and Pilate's wife may become another prototype of Gentile sympathizers (2:2, 11; 8:10-11; 15:28; Gundry 1982: 562; Brown 1994: 806). In any case, the hearing before Pilate is brief, and the execution swift (a few hours later).
Fortified through Gethsemane, Jesus now faces death heroically for his people. The hearing was swift not only because Pilate was unconcerned with justice, but because Jesus refused to defend himself, probably in submission to his Father's plan, though this did not reduce the perpetrators' responsibility (18:7; 26:24; Acts 2:23; 4:27-28; cf. Esth 4:14; Is 10:5-19). According to Roman law, a defendant who refused to make a defense had to be assumed guilty (Lane 1974a: 551 ; cf. Appian R.H. 11.7.41 ); Roman officials typically offered "a defendant three opportunities to respond before convicting by default" (France 1985: 389, following Sherwin-White 1978: 25-26), and Pilate offers Jesus at least two here (27:13). It is no wonder, therefore, that Pilate is amazed by the silence (27:14), an amazement that characterizes some other pagans in Jewish martyr stories (4 Macc 17:16) — and may suggest that Matthew links Jesus' opponents with the enemies of his people. From a literary perspective, Matthew can underline Jesus' heroism: such astonishment of judges characterizes Jewish accounts of defiant martyrs who — in contrast to their judges — value God's kingdom more than their lives (Stanton 1974: 36); others also praised courage in the face of death (e.g., Plut. Sayings of Spartans, Anon. 35, Mor. 234AB).177 Matthew's audience might also recall that Jesus had used silence to express initial disdain for another Gentile (15:23, with slightly different wording; cf. Lk 23:9-10).
Pilate could not evade responsibility by passing it off on someone else.
Pilate's only way to avoid the situation is to put forward Jesus as the one to be freed at the paschal amnesty. With others (e.g., Cohn 1977: 166), Brown 1994: 814-19 doubts the adequacy of any of the proposed analogies, hence (819) the custom itself, though it is multiply attested in the Gospels (793-95).178 Although current evidence is insufficient to prove that the custom existed, denying its existence argues from silence (in a narrative that can be confirmed at many other points), and, if we weigh the burden of proof in favor of the Gospels' usual authenticity (see the Introduction), various factors support the likelihood of the custom. Like most customs of the Roman administration in Palestine, this one is currently unattested, but parallels from other Roman administrations and the Gospel writers' assumption that their audiences were familiar with this practice in the Gospel tradition support it.
Later Roman law dictated that judges should not ignore laws, decrees, or custom (legibus... constitutionibus... moribus — Justin. Inst. 4.17). Nevertheless, Roman provincial officials were not bound by "precedents of their predecessors or local customs" (Ferguson 1987: 50);179 thus Pilate's offer of amnesty (27:15) might be a custom Pilate himself initiated, though it is more likely an earlier one he merely decided to continue (Jn 18:39).180 His offer may suggest that he thought himself indulgent on special occasions; his otherwise brutal disposition, however, colors all the other brief Jewish reports of his activity that remain extant. Romans sometimes deferred to local custom in forgiving an offense (e.g.. Plut. R.Q. 83, Mor. 283F); they also sometimes performed mass amnesties on local feasts (Livy 5.13.8; Blinzler 1959: 206), a custom known in various other ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean cultures (Merritt 1985). Sometimes they also released captives due to the people's demands.181 Roman law permitted two kinds of amnesty: abolitio (acquitting a prisoner before trial —· Codex 9.42; De Abolitionibus; Dig. 48.16) and indulgentia (pardoning a convicted criminal — Codex 9.43.3; Blinzler 1959:207-8). Since Pilate had not yet pronounced sentence against Jesus (27:26), an abolitio allowed him to circumvent the whole matter placed before him.
Why would Pilate have sought to release Jesus? Possibly because it was safer to release Jesus, the "so-called Christ" (27:17, 22), than alternatives like Barabbas, who, like those ultimately executed with Jesus, was a "robber" (27:38, 44; Mk 15:7),182 the aristocracy's derisive title (shared by Josephus) for insurrectionists. Pilate probably saw Jesus in the terms suggested in John 18:36-38: as the sort of relatively harmless wandering philosopher-king known to him from Greco-Roman tradition (see Keener 1993: 309; Epict. Disc. 3.22.49; Plut. Flatterer/Friend 16, Mor 58E).183 Roman officials were generally not inclined to execute (hence, perhaps, make martyrs of) those they saw as harmless fools (cf. Jos. War 6.305). By contrast, the Jerusalem aristocrats appear more sensitive to the sort of political threat a populist leader like Jesus might actually pose to their power base.
Jesus' contemporaries shared the guilt of his execution (cf. 23:30-36).
Perhaps because the high priests have reported Jesus' popular appeal along with the charge, Pilate gambles that the people will prefer Jesus to Barabbas; if so, his hope is disappointed. Although Jesus' following may have been large, the high priests represented the temple system respected by most local and foreign Jews, and they could more easily inflame a general mob in their favor, by mob pressure silencing any of Jesus' core supporters who might be present. Ancient literature is replete with examples of masses being easily swayed by leaders (e.g., many who voted for Aristides' banishment allegedly did not know the charge, Corn. Nep. 3 [Aristides], 1.4), including by these priests (Jos. War 2.237-38, 316-17, 321-25; cf. 2.406), and being fickle in the populist favor they bestowed on various figures (Tac. Ann. 2.41; Hist. 1.32, 45; 3.85; Ps-Phocyl. 95-96; Philo Embassy to Gaius 120; Jos. Life 87, 97, 143-44, 313-17, 333; Livy 31.34.3; Lucan C.W. 3.52-58; Corn. Nep. 10 [Dion], 10.2; 13 [Timotheus], 4.1; 1 Sam 18:16; 25:10; 2 Sam 5:2; 15:6).184 Further, the outdoor hearing at Pilate's bema (Jn 19:13; Jos. War 2.175-76, 301, 308; cf. Acts 18:12; 2 Cor 5: 10)185 undoubtedly took place at Herod the Great's old palace (Wilkinson 1978: 140; Gnilka 1997: 309; Jos. War 2.301); although still in the Upper City dominated by the priestly aristocracy, it was some distance from the temple, where Jesus' popular following had been growing and where most Galileans would be found, and perhaps earlier than most of Jesus' supporters would have returned to the temple area anyway after a late night Passover.
On a literary and theological level, Pilate may be offering that particular generation of Israel the "two ways," one of life and the other of death (7:13-14; cf. Deut 30:15-19). Nevertheless, the apparent inconsistency between the crowds that favored Jesus and those who opposed him may have less to do with the Gospel writers adjusting the traditions (cf. Sandmel 1978a: 39) than with their failure to explain the diversity of crowds in their traditions more thoroughly (including diversity based on locales, above). Although this lack of differentiation seems prejudicial to modern readers, understanding a literary device may increase our familiarity with their technique: ancient writers, especially those influenced by the chorus tradition of Greek drama, often allowed a corporate body to speak as if in unison (e.g., Virg. Aen. 11.122-31; Dion. Hal. 6.10.1; 6.87.1; Acts 4:24; cf. 1 Sam 11:4; 2 Sam 5:l-2).186 These crowds can function on a literary level to underline the ambivalence of God's own people swayed by various competing voices. Given the dangers of riots, Pilate's acquiescence to the masses at the Passover (27:24; cf. 26:5) was likely (also Albright and Mann 1971: 345; Brown 1994: 722).
Finally, Matthew underlines in obvious ways that the crowds shared the guilt for Jesus' execution — though he also refuses to let Pilate absolve himself from guilt as easily as he desires. Pilate, who hands Jesus over to the crowds' wishes, is no less guilty than weak-willed Zedekiah, who hands over Jeremiah in Jeremiah 38:5. By accepting the bloodguilt on themselves and their children, however (cf. 2 Sam 3:28-29), Matthew's crowds directly fulfill Jesus' warning in Matthew 23:29-36, thereby inviting the destruction of their temple at the end of the generation, in their children's days. They ironically invite a curse against themselves (cf. Jer 42:5).187 Because later professing Christians abused this passage in an anti-Jewish manner188 (forgetting the ethnic Jewishness of Matthew's own community), interpreters have frequently charged Matthew with vicious anti-Semitism. Others have sought various ways to absolve him of the charge (e.g., Caprile 1960): for example, Matthew meant that Jesus' blood would cover them salvifically, as in Jewish traditions about Exodus 24 (cf. Bowman 1974; Smith 1990; Cargal 1991 ; Sullivan 1992; but the context is bloodguilt); only the Jewish leaders are indicted here (Vandone 1964); or the leaders represented all of sinful humanity (Stephens 1964). How subsequent interpreters have applied Matthew in anti-Jewish ways is an important issue,189 but it is quite different from what Matthew intended; for Matthew, the curse invoked in this verse was fulfilled in the year 70, "children" in this instance referring to the generation immediately following from that multitude (23:36-24:2; 24:34).190
The Romans torture Jesus. Pilate decrees the sentence, as his position required him to do (27:26). A Roman court had to pronounce the method of execution, which for sedition in the provinces was normally crucifixion; the sentencer normally declared, "Ibis in crucem" (You will mount the cross) (Blinzler 1959: 238, citing Petron. Sat. 137.9; Plaut. Mostell. 3.2.63, §850). That Pilate "delivered" him up to carrying the cross fits customary language (Char. Chaer. 4.2.7).
The preliminary scourging here (27:26) is more serious than the maximum thirty-nine lashes administered by synagogue communities (10:17; cf. 2 Cor 11:23)191 and more severe than most Roman public corporal disciplines as well (cf. Acts 16:22; 2 Cor 11:25; Test. Jos. 2:3; Dig. 47.21.2);192 sometimes this kind of scourging caused death itself (F. F. Bruce 1977a: 445). Unlike the lesser fustigatio (beating), the severer disciplines of flagellatio (flogging) and especially verberatio (scourging) accompanied the death sentence (Brown 1970: 2:874; but Brown concedes in 1994: 851 that the Gospel writers and their audiences probably did not recognize these distinctions); whereas Romans used rods on freemen and sticks on soldiers, they used scourges on slaves or provincials of equivalent status (Dig. 48.19.10; 68.28.2; Blinzler 1959: 222).193 Thus Pilate here orders the preliminary scourging that, whether with rods or whips, generally preceded crucifixion and other forms of capital punishment.194
Probably stripped and tied to a pillar or post (Plaut. Bacchides 4.7.25; Artem. Oneir. 1.78 in Blinzler 1959: 222; see similarly m. Mak. 3:12),195 Jesus was beaten with flagella — leather whips "whose thongs were knotted and interspersed" with pieces of iron or bone, or a spike (Apul. Metam. 7.30.154; Cod. Theod. 8.5.2; 9.35.2; Goguel 1948: 527; Blinzler 1959: 222); it left skin hanging from the back in bloody strips (Klausner 1979b: 350; Blinzler 1959: 222). Various texts (e.g., Hor. Sat. 1.3.119; Cie. In Defense of Rabirius 5.15-16; Brown 1994: 851) attest the horror with which this punishment was viewed. Soldiers normally executed this task in the provinces (cf. Suet. Calig. 26; Blinzler 1959: 222). Some felt that lhtflagellum was merciful because it so weakened the prisoner as to hasten his death on the cross (Wilkinson 1978: 151). That the Gospels mention but do not describe the practice makes them read more like official reports than rhetorical documents with a heavy element of pathos at this point (Goguel 1948: 527); nevertheless, Matthew's audience would undoubtedly understand the procedure, for floggings and executions were generally public affairs in the Roman Empire.
That Pilate "delivers" Jesus up (27:26) to the soldiers (perhaps foreign auxiliaries) links him to Judas and the chief priests, who had also "delivered" Jesus over (26:48; 27:2-3; cf. Patte 1987: 376); far from escaping responsibility, Pilate forms the next link in the chain of guilt in which members of all involved parties participated.
The World Ridicules God's Son (27:27-44)
Cf. Mk 15:16-32; Lk 23:26-43; Jn 19:2-3, 17-27. Following Jesus to the cross means that disciples follow a road that may quite well cost them their lives physically (16:24); it also means sacrificing their own honor for Christ's along the way. Ridicule often provided the social backdrop of public executions, especially naked crucifixion, which constituted the ultimate form of shame (cf., e.g., Epict. Disc. 3.26.22; Cie. Pro C. Rabirio 5. IO).196
This section rings with tragicomic irony (as noticed also by early interpreters, e.g., Cyprian The Good of Patience 7; Cyril of Jerusalem Sermon on the Paralytic 12; ACCS, 226-27). The Roman soldiers mocked Jesus' kingship (27:27-31), not for a moment considering the possibility that they were abusing a king greater than any the world had ever known. That Jesus submitted to such abuse reminds the reader that power does not function in the kingdom the way it does in the world (20:25-28). In the next section, Jesus bears public humiliation in front of and from the crowds he had come to save (27:32-40). The soldiers drafted a bystander to suffer with Jesus (27:32), a bystander who performed the role disciples should have been performing (16:24). As Jesus participated with humanity in its suffering under injustice in the world, he summoned his disciples to endure the unjust treatment visited on them for his name's sake (5:10-11). Also, Jesus possibly refused a narcotic meant to dull the pain; he came to embrace the world's pain, and he would accept nothing less than the full impact of his bloody death (27:34). Further, the crowds invite Jesus to prove his divine Sonship by escaping the death of the cross (27:39-40) — thereby acting as Satan's final mouthpieces to turn Jesus from his divine mission (4:3-10; 16:21-23). In the final section of this unit, the religious authorities (at the top of the Jewish social order) and the dying robbers (at the bottom) join the crowds in functioning as Satan's mouthpieces. In Matthew's narrative world, neither outward piety nor being oppressed necessarily guarantees a heart obedient to God.
The soldiers mock Jesus' kingship and beat him. Although one would expect to find a larger contingent of soldiers in the Fortress Antonia (Anderson 1976: 335), Pilate brought soldiers with him at Passover and would keep his own temporary residence heavily guarded (hence, "the prefect's soldiers"). Although speira often means "cohort" (up to 600 troops), it can signify the Roman manipulus, roughly one-third that number (Liddell-Scott loc. cit.), and Matthew probably uses the term loosely here (Gundry 1982: 566).197
That soldiers would take the opportunity to taunt a captive for entertainment should not surprise us; although one cannot prove that they did so on this occasion, evidence suggests that such events were not unusual (see Brown 1994: 877; Davies and Allison 1997: 600). Public abuse of prisoners, even adorning one as a king and beating him, occurred on other occasions.198 Games of mockery included the game of king (Livy 36.14.4; Corn. Nep. 14 [Datames], 3.1-4; Pollux Onomasticon 9.110; cf. Herod. Hist. 1.114; Hor. Odes 1.4.18), and theatrical mimes were common as well (Brown 1994: 874-77). Most daily entertainment was less dramatic. Soldiers usually had to entertain themselves with games like tossing coins or dice;199 tossing knucklebones seems to have been common (Mart. Epig. 14.14-17; Diog. Laert. 9.1.3). The earliest Christian tradition indicates that Jesus was abused and humiliated (Johnson 1996: 120 cites Ps 69:9 in Rom 15:3), a tradition validated by the criterion of embarrassment.
The Gospels reveal Jesus' status as a servant-king in part by revealing how unlike a king the world thought him to be: if Jewish opponents ridiculed his claim to be a prophet (26:68), Roman ones mock his pretentious claim to royalty (27:29). Syrian or other eastern auxiliaries, who may have predominated here (France 1985: 393; Davies and Allison 1997: 601), but also Romans stationed in Palestine, might be happy to ridicule the notion of a Jewish king — thereby also ridiculing the people among whom they were stationed (Malina and Rohrbaugh 1992: 163).200 The abuse of Jesus' captivity to disdain the Jerusalemites strikes a note of irony that Matthew might have seen carried into 70. Those in the east who worshiped Caesar or hellenistic rulers would kneel and cry "Ave," or "Hail, Caesar!" (Blinzler 1959: 227; Brown 1970: 2:875); the soldiers here offer the same to Christ, but the irony of the narrative is that it inverts their own irony: he is the person whom they sarcastically claim him to be.
The "scarlet" robe (27:28) is undoubtedly a faded red soldier's cloak, which Mark (15:17) and John (19:2) apparently independently describe as "purple,"201 reflecting the color of garments worn by hellenistic princes, hence the soldiers' mockery. The soldiers provide Jesus with this "purple" chlamys, a sceptre (probably from a bamboo cane used for military floggings), and a crown of thorns (probably woven from the branches of an available shrub like acanthus; Blinzler 1959: 227). The crown recalls the garlands worn by hellenistic vassal princes, since only the highest ruler wore a diadem with white wool.202 The long thorns may thus have turned outward to imitate contemporary crowns rather than inward to draw blood, and the soldiers probably removed it along with the other mocking regalia before leading him to crucifixion (Blinzler 1959: 244-45; Gundry 1982: 567). (Luke's white robe in Lk 23:11 characterized Jewish kings as well — Hill 1979: 52.) The reed provides "a mock staff or sceptre" (Anderson 1976: 339).
Some suggest that the soldiers' spittle (27:30) may also parody the kiss of homage with which eastern subjects greeted their rulers (Blinzler 1959: 227; cf. Phaedrus 5.1.5), but the spitting comes at the end of the mockery, when they have begun beating him with the rod. Now they are abusing him physically, though the blows remain insulting as well as painful (cf. comment on 5:39; Dupont 1992: 126-27), and spitting was one of the severest expressions of disgust, as well as one of the severest experiences of disgust for its recipient (cf. Num 12:14; 4 Ezra 6:56; 2 Bar. 82:5; Ps-Philo 7:3; 12:4; ARN 35A; 19, §42B; Sifre Num. 106.1.1; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 10:8; Jews would regard Gentile spittle as particularly unclean).
The soldiers must draft a bystander (27:32) to do what the disciples were unwilling to do (16:24). Matthew's primary point is striking, reinforcing the negative portrayal of the disciples his audience has experienced in his recitation of the Gethsemane tradition. While Jesus suffered for them, his own disciples, who should have borne his cross (16:24), abandoned him, forcing the Romans to impress a foreigner.203
Normally a condemned prisoner carried his own patibulum, or transverse beam of the cross, to the site of the execution, where soldiers would fix the patibulum to the upright stake (palus, stipes, staticulum), which they regularly reused for executions.204 Both Jewish people (Lev 24:14; Num 15:35-36; Deut 17:5; 1 Kings 21:13; Jos. War 4.360; Ant. 4.264) and Romans (Artem. Oneir. 2.53; Plaut. Soldier 2.4.6-7, §359-60) performed executions outside a town (Blinzler 1959: 251; Lane 1991: 2:541). In this case, a proposed site for the execution is only about 1,000 feet north to northeast of Herod's palace, where Pilate pronounced the sentence (Reicke 1974: 185). The soldiers presumably led Jesus through part of the upper city and out the Garden Gate, near the Hippicus tower of Herod's old palace (Gnilka 1997: 309).
Given the unlikehilood that the soldiers would simply show mercy to a condemned prisoner, scholars are probably correct to suppose that Jesus was too weak to carry the cross, and that his executioners preferred to have him alive on the cross rather than dead on the way (cf. Goguel 1948: 530-31; Lane 1974a: 562; Davies 1993: 197; Brown 1994: 914). Although soldiers sometimes scourged prisoners en route to the crucifixion, the practice is not mentioned here, probably because Jesus was already scourged (Valerius Maximus 1.7.4; Dion. Hal. 7.69.1; Blinzler 1959: 244), perhaps also because he was too weak already. Since crucifixion sometimes lasted days (Jos. Life 420-21), the quickness of Jesus' death (multiply attested: Mk 15:44; Jn 19:31) reinforces the notion that Jesus was already quite weak (Klausner 1979b: 353), probably partly from the scourging, perhaps partly exhausted from the Gethsemane experience (26:38) and partly wishing to surrender his own life as quickly as possible (12:40; 16:21; 17:22-23; 20:18-19, 28; 26:26-28). In such circumstances, that the soldiers would have drafted a bystander is not improbable;205 one would not expect them to carry the beam themselves if they could "impress" another into service (see comment on 5:41).206
Most scholars agree that Simon of Cyrene is a historical figure (Brown 1994: 913). It does not seem simply part of Markan predictions of scripture fulfillment, and Simon does not bear the cross willingly as a mere invention to fulfill a disciple paradigm would (B. Sanders 1995: 56-57). Archaeologists have uncovered the grave of an "Alexander son of Simon," a Cyrenian Jew, near Jerusalem (Lane 1974a: 563), which would fit the Jerusalem-based Passion Narrative Theissen suggests behind Mark, where Simon's sons seem to have been familiar (Mk 15:21; Theissen 1991: 176-77; some cite Rom 16:13 for Rome). Given the commonness of names like "Alexander"207 and "Simon,"208 we cannot be sure that the same Cyrenian is in view, but it remains possible. ("Rufus" was a common Roman name, especially among slaves, but naturally less known in the Greek East; for Roman Jews, see CIJ 1:103, §145; cf. 1:52, §79; 1:401, §541.)
Simon's ancestral ethnicity also remains uncertain. Boykin Sanders (1995: 62-63) makes a reasonable case for Simon's ancestry being native Cyrenian rather than immigrant Jewish Cyrenian, showing how frequently early Christian narratives designate characters' ethnicity. Yet at Jerusalem's festivals, full of pilgrims from other parts of the world (Acts 2:5-11; Jos. War 1.253; Ant. 17.254; Safrai 1974/76d: 898), one might simply identify oneself by one's place of origin. This would also be true if Simon or his sons remained part of the Christian community (many believe the tradition recalls his name because he became a Christian — e.g., France 1985: 395; Brown 1994: 913) in Jerusalem, which probably traditioned the Passion Narrative (see Theissen 1991: 166-99). Cyrene was as much as a quarter Jewish (Jos. Ant. 14.115-18; cf. Apion 2.44; Caird 1955: 21; Brown 1994: 915), and its Jewish community is well known (Acts 2:10; 13:1; see especially Applebaum 1979; Yamauchi 1992). "Simon" is also a frequent (though not exclusively) Jewish name, but we currently lack adequate evidence to decide whether Simon was of fully Jewish descent or may have been descended from proselytes. Soldiers would march the prisoner through crowds of spectators (Reicke 1974: 185); crowds normally gathered to watch executions, especially if near the city (Morris 1971: 807).
Jesus deliberately endured the full physical pain of the cross. The passion tradition not only employs Simon carrying Jesus' cross to underline the horrendous failure of disciples to share Jesus' cross, but it juxtaposes this failure with Jesus' willingness to suffer. The wine mixed with gall (27:34) may have been intended to dull his pain (cf. Prov 31:4-7). Mark's "myrrh" (Mk 15:23)209 had many uses, among them narcotic properties that may induce sleep (scholars cite Dioscorides Pedanius Materia Medica 1.44.3); it is reported that Jerusalem's respected women provided (financially or in person) a narcotic to men being executed to diminish their pain (b. Sanh. 43a; Jeremias 1971: 225; Lane 1974a: 564; Blinzler 1959 252-53 and n. 27).210 Whether or not Matthew's implied audience would find such a narcotic implied in his "gall,"211 they would expect the wine itself to serve a pain-killing function (Prov 31:6-7). Once he tasted the wine and its additive, Jesus may have refused it, in part because of his vow in 26:29 (Moule 1965: 126; cf. 27:48; Num 6:4); but Jesus apparently refused it also because he had come to share humanity's pain, and had to experience it in full.
Jesus' crucifixion by the Romans outside Jerusalem is an "almost indisputable" historical fact (Sanders 1985: 11); Christians would not have invented the crucifixion. The full horror of that mode of execution (e.g., Apul. Metam. 3.9; 6.32; Char. Chaer. 3.3.12) remained vivid enough in the first century that all four evangelists hurry by the event itself quickly, Matthew "disposing of it in a participial clause" (A. B. Bruce 1979: 328). It was established rhetorical practice to hurry most quickly over points that might disturb the audience (Theon Progymn. 5.52-56).
Although some features of crucifixions remained common, executioners could perform them in a variety of manners, limited only by the extent of their sadistic creativity (Hengel 1977: 25).212 Executioners usually tied victims to the cross, but in some cases hastened their death by nailing their wrists as well (Jn 20:25).213 Romans crucified their victims naked;214 although some later rabbis explaining the proper way to carry out theoretical executions allowed men a loincloth (m. Sanh. 6:3; Blinzler 1959: 253), it is unlikely that Pilate's soldiers would have accommodated their sensitivities.215 Further, other tradition indicates that most teachers allowed men to be executed naked (m. Sanh. 6:3; Sota 3:8; b. Sanh. 45a, bar.). Public nakedness could cause shame in other settings (e.g., Juv. Sat. 1.71; Plut. R.Q. 40, Mor. 274A; Diog. Laert. 2.73; but contrast Plato Rep. 5.452C; Dio Chrys. 13th Disc. §24), but especially for Palestinian Jews (e.g., Gen 3:7, 10-11; Jub. 3:21-22, 30-31; 7:8-10, 20; IQS 7.12; t. Ber. 2:14; Sifre Deut. 320.5.2). One being executed on the cross could not swat flies from one's wounds, nor withhold one's bodily wastes from coming out while hanging naked for hours and sometimes days (Klausner 1979b: 350).
The specific mention of divided clothing (27:35) may well recall Psalm 22:18 (e.g., Cope 1976: 103), but it can hardly be a mere accommodation to it without historical substance (cf. Freed 1965: 101);216 Roman law allowed the execution squad to seize the few possessions the condemned might have on his person (Dig. 48.20.6;217 Dibelius 1971: 188; Sherwin-White 1978: 46; against the Jewish custom, e.g., b. Sanh. 48b, bar.).218 The Roman army's basic unit was a contubernium, eight men who shared a tent; normally half of such a unit would be dispatched for a work detail like a crucifixion (Jones 1971: 193-94; see Jn 19:23). The casting of lots (27:35) may involve the guessing of another's hidden fingers (Brown 1994: 955), but the bored soldiers may as easily have brought dice to entertain themselves (cf. Cary and Haarhoff 1946: 149).
The charge posted above Jesus' head219 reveals the irony of the situation: Jesus is executed for being king of Israel (27:37). Yet for all the charge's irony, it is historically quite probable (so even Winter 1961: 108-9).220 Jesus' triumphal entry (21:6-l 1) marked him as a royal aspirant; the priestly aristocracy would arrest and the Romans execute anyone who offered the slightest grounds for suspicion of treason against Rome (see 27:11-13, 29, 37, 42). The title is not a traditional Christian confession; Jesus' "you say" (27:11) suggests that it is not the title he would have emphasized, and Romans crucified many self-proclaimed kings and their followers under the Lex Iulia de maiestate (Jos. Ant. 17.285, 295; Brown 1994: 968). Other Jewish rebels apparently hoped for kingship (Jos. War 2.443-44; Ant. 17.285; Harvey 1982: 13n. 12), but unless they desired repression Christians would hardly have invented the claim that Jesus was crucified on these grounds (Harvey 1982: 13-14; Stanton 1995a: 173; cf. Acts 17:7); surely the apolitical Markan community would have been an unlikely source for the invention (cf. Kee 1980: 120-21).
A further datum supports the plausibility of the account: on other known occasions a member of the execution squad would carry in front of or beside the condemned a small tablet (tabula) declaring the charge (titulus), the cause of execution (causa poenae), which he might later post on the cross.221 That Matthew and Luke (perhaps Q; "this is") and Matthew and John ("Jesus") share some common elements against Mark suggests the prominence of this memory in the common passion tradition.
Jesus endures the mocking of those present. Jewish people could view mockery, which often accompanied executions, as a final test martyrs had to endure (Boring 1995: 158 cites Asc. Isa. 5:2-3). The "robbers" on either side, one on the left and one on the right (27:38; cf. Jn 19:18), could recall the promise to those enthroned on either side of Jesus (20:23); crowned with thorns (27:29) as "King of the Judeans" (27:37), Jesus had a cross for a throne (as in Mark — cf. Perrin 1976a: 93). That Jesus would be hung between "robbers" is not surprising; the Roman charge against him is that of treason, viewing him as a revolutionary or a "social bandit" (Oakman 1992: 121; cf. 26:55). Because the "robbers" are probably revolutionaries (e.g., Malina 1981: 77) who may have sought to facilitate the establishment of God's earthly kingdom,222 the irony and pathos of their ridicule become all the clearer.
Both lay and aristocratic mockers pass by, perhaps along a road,223 "wagging their heads" (Ps 22:7),224 repeating the slanderous charge of 26:61 (cf. Jn 2:19), seeking a sign (cf. 16:1), and serving as mouthpieces for Satan's desire for a kingdom without the cross (cf. 4:3, 7). Perhaps they were mocking in order to demand appropriate vindication of the court's sentence; at least in later tradition an executed person was to confess his sins in order to receive God's mercy (cf. m. Sanh. 6:2-3; Num. Rab. 8:5; Ps-Philo 25:6-7; 27:15; in view of death in general, t. Ber. 6:17). While uttering the sort of derision one might expect at an execution of a misled pietist, the mockers from the Sanhedrin225 (27:41-43) unwittingly cite Psalm 22:8 (Matthew presumably conforms their mockery to correspond clearly with that text)226 — showing themselves enemies of God's anointed servant, hence of God himself.
The language of the priestly mockers probably also echoes Wisdom 2:18 in the Septuagint: "For if the righteous man is a son of God, God will help him, and deliver him from the hand of those who resist him." In the Wisdom of Solomon, those who utter these words are the wicked who want to condemn the righteous to death unjustly, because he claims to be a child of God and to have a good future (2:16-20). In other words, by their own words Jesus' enemies are condemned (Mt 12:37; cf. Lk 19:22). The King of the Judeans refuses to respond (5:39; cf. Is 53:7).
Again irony saturates the narrative: they are right that he cannot save himself if he would save others (27:42). That they offer to believe if he will come down, just as Satan offered him the kingdom if he would bow down, tests Jesus: he can have people's allegiance if he will just forsake the Father's way of getting it (26:39, 42). But Jesus himself models the sacrificial life of discipleship for Matthew's community: whoever wishes to save his or her life will lose it (10:39; 16:25).
Signs at Jesus' Death (27:45-54)
Cf. Mk 15:33-39; Lk 23:44-49; Jn 19:25-30. The pious priestly aristocrats would not have waited for Jesus to die and may well have left for the afternoon liturgy in the temple (Stauffer 1960: 138). Like Pilate (Mk 15:44-45), they may not have anticipated his death so quickly. Crucified persons could survive several days, depending on their constitution and whether ropes or nails were used (Sen. Ep. 101.10-13; Jos. Life 420-21; Brown 1994: 1222).
Jesus ' suffering elicits a plaintive cry of final dependence on God. Given subsequent Christian Christology, the early church would hardly have invented Jesus' cry of despair in uttering a complaint about alienation from God, quoting Psalm 22:1 (e.g., Stauffer 1980: 140; Gundry 1975: 203; Jeremias 1971: 189).227 Jesus' contemporaries recognized in the psalm a plea for mercy (cf. Mek. Shir. 3.75ff., Laut. 2:28), which accords with Jesus' most recent recorded prayer (26:39, 42). Mark records the prayer in its fully Aramaic form, perhaps following an early Palestinian tradition that conformed Jesus' cry to the Targum; Matthew re-Hebraizes the address (changing "Eloi" to "Eli"), either to conform to frequent early synagogue practice of using Hebrew prayers (though this Hebraism had come over into Aramaic; cf. also the use of "Eli" in Qumran's hymns), or to explain (probably correctly, cf. Layton 1996: 611-12; pace, e.g., Cope 1976: 104) how listeners thought they heard "Elijah" (Eliyahu; Jeremias 1971: 5n.2; cf. Anderson 1976: 346).
That Jesus utters the complaint of the righteous sufferer (Ps 22:1)228 might well suggest to early Christians that he participated in humanity's ultimate alienation from God in experiencing the pain of death (27:46).229 Although Christians are not likely to have invented such a cry, they undoubtedly found great significance in the use of Psalms 22 and 69 in the Passion Narrative. Jewish Christians, like other Jews, recited these psalms identifying with the oppressed; to hear Jesus in terms of these psalms invited them to contemplate how fully Jesus had embraced their condition of suffering.
The cry does not imply collapse of faith in what he had already prophesied; "my God" implies continuing trust (Kingsbury 1983: 130). Neither for the Gospels, nor necessarily for their sources, do Jesus' abandonment and despairing "Godforsakenness" (Kelber 1979: 81) necessarily imply doubt of ultimate triumph.230 Jesus had to know that Psalm 22 went on to declare the psalmist's vindication (22:22-24; cf., e.g., Meier 1980: 349).231
Still, his own people did not recognize what was happening. When some of the bystanders think that Jesus is calling Elijah, the Gospels reinforce the picture that their smug assurance is folly (as in the philosophers' misinterpretation of Paul's "deities" in Acts 17:18; cf. Haenchen 1971: 518), although it is hardly unlikely that Judeans might mishear a weakened Galilean's utterance (Albright and Mann 1971: 350). They may have known the tradition that rabbis in distress sometimes looked to Elijah for help,232 and assumed that Jesus was doing likewise. He had failed to "save himself' (27:40, 42), so now perhaps Elijah would (27:49); they mock Jesus as a deluded visionary (cf. 1 Cor 1:23; comment on 4:5-6). Clearly they expected no supernatural intervention, expectations seemingly confirmed because Elijah would not come (27:47-49). The narrative again bristles with irony: far from being able to help Jesus, "Elijah" was his forerunner in martyrdom (17:10-13; Hooker 1983: 79; Kingsbury 1983: 130).
Jesus yielded his life for the many (20:28). Whereas the bystanders assume that a misled pietist is calling for help to survive, Jesus has in fact relinquished his life. The wine vinegar233 (27:48) was probably an attempt to revive him (Reicke 1974: 187), perhaps to prolong the torment, probably in mocking pretense that Elijah had come to relieve him.234 Jesus had come to drink the cup of suffering (26:39), the cup of God's wrath (Jer 25:15-29). That Jesus "gave up his spirit" simply means that he died (cf. Test. Abr. 17A; Life of Adam 27:1; 45:3; 2 Enoch 70:16; Sen. Dial. 7.20.5; cf. Quint. Inst. Or. pref. 12), but it may imply an element of his choice (cf. 4 Macc 9:25; 12:20; Tert. Apol. 21). Jesus is both his followers' model, obedient and uncomplaining as he serves the Father no matter what the cost, and their savior, who offers himself for the sins of the world.
By expiring at 3 p.m., Jesus died close to the official time of the evening lamb offering in the temple, especially significant in a paschal context (m. Pesah. 5:1; Reicke 1974: 166 — though I would argue that the final Passover lambs were being slaughtered the preceding day). Earlier studies argued that because of the position of their bodies, victims of crucifixion eventually became unable to lift their diaphragms and normally died by asphyxiation (Reicke 1974: 187). Some more recent studies suggest that dehydration and loss of blood are more plausible causes (Brown 1994: 1092). In any case (various factors undoubtedly weakened the body, whichever factors ultimately proved decisive in inviting death), Jesus died more quickly than expected (Mk 15:44-45; see comment above). Jesus' dying "cry" may echo the Greek version of Psalm 22:2, 5, 24 (Ps 21 LXX; France 1985: 400).
God confirms Jesus' righteousness by signs in nature. But whereas Elijah did not come to rescue Jesus, the sort of signs that Judaism regularly expected to accompany the death of the righteous (because the prayers of the righteous sustained the world)235 did follow Jesus' death (27:51-53). These signs would indicate divine approval of Jesus and disapproval of his executioners to both pagan and Jewish audiences (see Kee 1983: 189; Best 1965: 98, citing, e.g., Virg. Georg. 1.466ff.; cf. also Macrobius Comm. 2.2.3 in van der Horst 1973: 224).236 Although Matthew does not borrow these signs from Mark, the style of these verses suggests that he follows a different pre-Matthean source "circulating in popular circles" (Brown 1994: 1138, who doubts its historical accuracy).
The darkness (Mk 15:33) could stem simply from heavy cloud cover, but the Gospel writers use it to convey a more profound theological point. For many Jewish people, the darkness would recall the three-day plague immediately preceding the sacrifice of the first paschal lamb (Ex 10:21-23; Wis 17),237 as well as judgment imagery (Sib. Or. 4.56-58; 11.45; 2 Enoch 7:1-2; Gen. Rab. 28:1), especially eschatological (4 Ezra 7:38-42; Ps-Philo 3:10; Sib. Or. 3.800-804; Test. Mos. 10:5; cf. 4 Ezra 5:4-5; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 9:1). Fierce darkness worthy of mention might also recall ancient views concerning eclipses. Although many ancients understood that the moon passing in front of the sun caused a solar eclipse (Diog. Laert. Lives 7.1.145-46; 10.96; Pliny N.H. 2.6.47; Dio Cassius R.H. 60.26.1-5; Livy 44.37.6-7), eclipses normally constituted a bad omen (Diod. Sic. 20.5.5; Plut. Aemilius Paulus 17.5; Arrian Alex. 3.7.6; 3.15.7), in Jewish tradition signifying divine judgment (t. Sukk. 2:5-6; cf. b. Sukk. 29a). An eclipse at midday (as here, the sixth hour, 27:45) seemed particularly noteworthy (Livy 37.4.3). On at least one occasion in Greek tradition a lunar eclipse signified nature's sympathy for the decease of a great man (Diog. Laert. Lives 4.64, on Carneades, ca. 213-129 b.c.); more frequently, they at least saw unexpected darkness as the activity of deities (cf. Plut. Timoleon 28.2).238
As noted above, Jewish hagiography typically listed signs at a righteous person's decease (Dalman 1929: 220), perhaps in conjunction with the view that the merit of the righteous sustained the world.239 That Matthew should add signs to those mentioned by Mark is hardly surprising, both given Matthew's expansion from Palestinian traditions consistent with contemporary Jewish thought and Mark's specialized emphasis on the cross and hidden revelation. (That some cosmic signs, such as darkness, remain even in Mark may suggest that the tradition had more signs, which Mark and John had theological reasons not to emphasize.)
Matthew provides an astute theological observation in the raising of dead persons at Jesus' death (27:52-53): by refusing to save himself, Jesus did save others (27:42). Yet by mentioning only "many" of the saints, Matthew clearly intends this sign merely to prefigure the final resurrection, proleptically signified in Jesus' death and resurrection (Cullmann 1956a: 168).240 Popular folk religion venerated the tombs of saints (Meyers and Strange 1981: 162), and the very people who sought Jesus' death built those tombs (23:29-32); but Jesus, the holiest saint of all, had power to raise them.241 Appearances of shades of the dead at night (Ovid Metam. 15.797) functioned as portents like earthquakes (15.798) that could terrify Romans; but Matthew is clear that these are not merely apparitions of the dead, but actual resuscitations prefiguring the eschatological resurrection at Jesus' return. Signs "in the city" would be especially terrifying (2 Macc 5:2, 4). Like the resuscitations, the earthquake likely has proleptic eschatological significance (1 Enoch 1:6-8; 2 Bar. 27:7; 70:8; 4 Ezra 6:13-15; 9:3; Rev 6:12; cf. Bauckham 1977), as well as connecting the cosmic implications of Jesus' death with those of the resurrection triumph in the context of the earthquake in 28:2 242
The rending of the veil, however, already appears in Mark, probably admitted because it is a "hidden" sign (more public in later tradition such as, e.g., Sib. Or. 8.305). Scholars dispute whether the rending of the veil refers to the inner (cf. Ex 26:33) or outer243 (cf. Lane 1974a: 574-75; Blomberg 1992a: 421) veil of the temple; if the former (as I prefer, given theological capital possibly drawn from it in early Christian tradition — Heb 6:19-20; 9:3; 10:19-20),244 the rending would have occurred at the time of the evening sacrifice (27:45-46), when it would be obvious to the attending priests (Edersheim: 614). In either case, the rending could symbolize the departure of God's presence that preceded God's judgment against the temple.245 Perhaps the old veil was "rent" because the new order would not fit it (cf. 9:16 — schisma). That the rocks were likewise "rent" (not in Mark) amplifies the impact of the rending (27:51).
Some commentators believe that this description is merely symbolic, perhaps deduced from symbolic comments on fresh access to God. They note that Josephus fails to mention clearly this extraordinary sign (Moule 1965: 127), and that only priests (and a small number of them at that) would be privy to the rending of the veil, which leads one to question how the Passion Narrative's source would know what happened (Beare 1981: 536). But some rabbinic sources may report a garbled account of a similar tradition, though the evidence is not clear.246 Josephus may know a related tradition about a heavy gate to the inner court opening by itself presaging Jerusalem's destruction, though he or his source place it closer to the latter event (Jos. War 6.293-96); likewise, the priestly aristocracy would certainly not have publicized a rending of the inner veil at Jesus' death (which they might regard as coincidence — cf. the Sadducean view in Jos. Ant. 13.173), but early "leaks" to the Christians unconfirmed by the hierarchy would be possible (Acts 6:7). Modern readers who wish to settle their view of the event's historical probability may need to resort to presuppositions about the possibilities of the miraculous and about the reliability of the Gospel traditions as a whole.
The Gentiles present — Jesus ' own brutal executioners — recognize his identity. Whereas his own people had not believed, the supervising centurion247 and (in Matthew) those with him (presumably the other Gentile soldiers) recognized Jesus' identity the way Peter had some time before (16:16). In contrast to Peter, however, these Gentiles recognize Jesus' Sonship in the cross, rather than by ignoring it (16:21-22), all the more remarkable because this defied Gentile models of leadership (20:25).248 These were among the very men who had beaten him (27:30), providing also an example of repentance (3:2). The Gospel has come full circle: again the religious leaders of Israel have missed the significance of Jesus, whereas the pagans one would expect most hostile to Christ have understood and embraced his true identity (2:1-12). Matthew's message to his community is clear: regardless of the response of the Jewish religious leaders, you must evangelize the Gentiles. Jesus is for Israel first (15:26-28), but he does not belong only to their own ethnic community.
Ironically, the Roman centurion, a participant in Jesus' torments, recognizes without prompting what the Sanhedrin had denied: Jesus is God's Son (27:54). Fellow members of Jesus' own ethnic community ridicule Jesus' Son-ship (27:40, 43) based on a statement they themselves elicited (26:64); by contrast this Gentile persecutor becomes the first person after Jesus' death to concur with Jesus' identity announced by God in 3:17 and by Peter in 16:16.249 Matthew's signs offer more reason for this confession than Mark had, but the specific title remains unexpected (apart from hearers' familiarity with the tradition). Whereas a centurion might intend the title in the sense of a divine man (Moule 1965: 128; Lane 1974a: 576; cf. Dan 3:25, where the narrative suggests an angel, Dan 3:28), on the narrative level it fulfills the Son of God motif in both Mark and Matthew.250 Although less clearly than in Mark, it remains the cross that declares Jesus' Sonship (cf. 4:3; 27:40), as in 8:8-12 the astonishing first confession in the holy land comes from a Gentile centurion,251 and as in 2:1-12 those who first acknowledge Jesus as King of Israel are those outside God's household. Matthew reinforces this picture by indicating that not only Mark's centurion but apparently the other members of the Gentile execution squad recognized his identity (27:54).
Guardians of Jesus' Body (27:55-66)
Cf. Mk 15:40-47; Lk 23:50-56; Jn 19:38-42. The identities of the actors in this narrative are significant. Because John's disciples took great risk and buried their teacher (14:12), the reader may expect at least as much courage from Jesus' disciples here (Rhoads and Michie 1982: 133). But Jesus' disciples disappoint us, leaving the task to characters readers would not anticipate apart from having heard the story before.252
First, whereas the maie disciples feared for their lives and were nowhere to be found, the women followed all the way to the tomb. In that culture women were relegated to a marginal role in discipleship at best, and not permitted to be disciples of rabbis (cf. Swidler 1976: 97-111; Keener 1992: 83-84; Gnilka 1997:179); but these women had followed Jesus as disciples in whatever ways they could (the rabbis and Matthew both applied "follow" to discipleship — cf. Davies 1966b: 134-35), even ways that would have appeared scandalous in that culture (27:55; cf. Stanton 1989a: 202; Stambaugh and Balch 1986: 104).253 Their "ministry" to Jesus' needs (27:55) probably largely followed the roles assigned their gender and social rank in their culture (8:15), but this narrative evaluates and bestows honor on the basis of their courage and faithfulness rather than their social prominence.254
This potential for scandal militates against the invention of this tradition by Iater Christians (Witherington 1984: 117; Sanders 1993: 109); multiple attestation also supports the tradition (Mk 15:40; Lk 8:1-3; Jn 19:25).255 The situation is also historically likely: the culture allowed family members to gather around the person being crucified (Lane 1974a: 576, citing t. Git. 7:1; p. Git. 48c; Witherington 1984: 94, 187n.l03; cf. also Sifre Deut. 308.2.1; pace Barrett 1978: 551), and women were granted greater latitude in mourning (Soph. Ajax 580; Eurip. Madness of Heracles 536; Medea 928; Livy 26.9.7; Diod. Sic. 17.37.3; Dion. Hal. 7.67.2; 8.39.1; Jos. Ant. 4.320; Pomeroy 1975: 44; Dupont 1992: 115). Finally, although some rulers executed women under extreme circumstances, such punishment was rare,256 and women, unlike men, would not be suspected as disciples and hence potential coconspirators with Jesus (Klausner 1979b: 354).
Yet the special role accorded women among Jesus' disciples,257 in addition to the loyalty with which they responded to him, is significant. The Gospels note that the women were watching the burial (Mk 15:47); although many tombs existed in the Judean hills, these women must return by themselves early Sunday morning to the same site. This is hardly simply Christian apologetic to cover up the women's ignorance of the site (pace Crossan 1976: 152); immediately after claims of resurrection appearances, others would have checked the tomb. But it does underline the care that was taken to locate the right site, albeit initially for later expressions of mourning. "Salome" (Mk 15:40) may be the name of Zebedee's wife (Mt 27:56); the wife of Alphaeus and mother of James the Less (10:3; 27:56; Mk 15:40, 47) also was part of the group.
Second, Joseph of Arimathea models one of the few wealthy allies of the Jesus movement (27:57)258 Although Matthew omits mention of Joseph's membership in the Sanhedrin,259 he mentions that he was "rich" — the sort of people who rarely showed up among Jesus' disciples, especially when pressure became serious (19:24; 26:18). Given early Christian experiences with and feelings toward the Sanhedrin, the invention of a Sanhedrist acting piously toward Jesus (Mk 15:43) is not likely (Brown 1994: 1240; Davies and Allison 1997: 647). Brown is certain that pious Jews, given their views of burial, would not have allowed Jesus to go unburied (1994: 1240; cf. also Davies and Allison 1997: 648). He doubts that Joseph was a disciple (27:57, not noted in Mark), thinking that this is why the women did not cooperate with him in the burial (1994: 1218); but we may well question to what degree the women would have trusted a Sanhedrist at this point. Acts 13:29 could suggest burial by hostile leaders, but this may simply represent summary language. The preservation of his name and other details may suggest that Joseph either followed Jesus at this time (as I think more likely) or, as Brown 1994: 1230 thinks, that Joseph became a disciple later. In Matthew, however, Joseph is already a "disciple," a model to be imitated, one of the few rich men who squeezed through a needle's eye by God's grace (19:24-26). Many people liked generous rich people (Hom. II. 6.12-19; Prov 19:6), but the issue with Joseph is more than generosity. He squeezed through the needle's eye because he risked all his wealth and status to stand with the condemned Jesus — something Jesus' other male disciples failed to do.
Excursus: The Importance of the Burial
If Jesus died at 3 p.m. and Joseph stopped to seek Pilate's permission, perhaps only an hour remained before sundown and the prohibition of work. Although anointing and washing the corpse was permissible even on the Sabbath (m. Shab. 23:5),260 some other elements of the burial (see Safrai 1974/76b: 776-77 for samples of these) could be conducted only in the most preliminary manner for the moment, though undoubtedly hastened considerably through the agency of Joseph's servants. One could not move the corpse or its members on the Sabbath (m. Shab. 23:5). In a Jewish setting, linen shrouds were part of honorable burial (Mt 27:59; Finegan 1969: 213), specifically for the righteous (Test. Abr. 20A; Life of Adam 48.1; Apoc. Mos. 40.1-3; b. Ber. 18b; cf. white wrappings in Ps-Philo 64:6; Gen. Rab. 96:5). Although the plural form of linen strips in John 19:40; 20:7 could tell against the authenticity of the traditional shroud (so Brown 1970: 2:941-42),261 others have argued that the plural could be idiomatic for "grave clothes" (Thompson 1985: 240).262 Joseph or his agents had purchased the linen before the Sabbath (Mk 15:46), but the women either purchased or more likely prepared the spices only after the Sabbath (Mk 16:1; Lk 23:56; 24:1; Dalman 1929: 101).263 (When spices were used they were important, not to preserve the corpse but to diminish the stench264 and, in practice, to pay final respects to the deceased.)265
Although reports existed of cultures that did not bury (Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. 3.226-28), burial was an essential duty both in Jewish (Gen 23:3-20; 50:12-14, 25-26; Sir. 38:16-17; Tob 1:17-20; 2:7-10; 4:3-4; 6:14; IQM 7.2; Acts 8:2; Jos. Apion 2.205, 211; Ps-Phocyl. 99-101) and broader Mediterranean culture (Diod. Sic. 20.84.3; Plut. Nicias 6.5-6; Diog. Laert. 6.2.52; Paus. 1.32.5; Char. Chaer. 4.1.3; cf. Plut. Solon 21.1). Like most of their contemporaries (e.g., Eurip. Suppliants; Diod. Sic. 15.35.1),266 the Jews regarded lack of burial as a horrible fate (Eccl 6:3; Jub. 23:23; Jos. War 5.514; Sib. Or. 3.643; Qoh. Rab. 3:2, §2). Burial societies ensured that even poor people would receive proper burial (e.g., ILS 7360a; Sherk 1988: 234; Cary and Haarhoff 1946: 151-52; for slaves, cf. Buckland 1908: 74), whereas the rich and well known had elaborate public funerals (Polyb. R.R.E. 6.53; Dion. Hal. 6.96.1 ; Corn. Nep. 10 [Dion], 10.3; Herodian 4.2.2; Apul. Metam. 2.27; 1 Macc 2:70; Jos. Ant. 9.166; 13.406; Mart. Pol. 17) and other honors (Theon Progymn. 9.4-5; cf. Jos. Ant. 4.320; b. Shab. 153a; Gen. Rab. 100:2; Qoh. Rab. 7:12, §1; 9:10, §3). Even those considered morally reprehensible normally permitted burials of their enemies (2 Macc 4:49; Jos. Ant. 4.264-65); it was honorable behavior (e.g., Hom. II. 7.79, 84, 409-10; Virg. Aen. 11.100-7; Livy 38.2.14; Corn. Nep. 18 [Eumenes], 13.4), and sometimes constituted a dead or dying person's final request (Hom. II. 23.65-71; Od. 11.71-76; Eurip. Children of Heracles 588-90; Hecuba 47-50; Phoenician Maidens 1447-50).267 Authorities or very angry enemies might prohibit burial (Hom. II. 17.126-27, 255, 272; Eurip. Phoenician Maidens 1627-30; Diod. Sic. 16.16.4; 18.67.6; Dion. Hal. 3.21.8; 4.40.5-6; 6.9.4; 20.16.2; Appian R.H. 3.9.3; 12.8.52; 12.16.107; C.W. 1.8.73; Herodian 1.13.4-6; 8.8.7; Char. Chaer. 1.5.25; 1 Enoch 98:13; 2 Macc 13:7) or public mourning (m. Sanh. 6:6; Eurip. Phoenician Maidens 1631-34; cf. Jos. Ant. 9.104) in the case of a particularly heinous crime. Still, such occasions were sometimes disputed (cf. Soph. Ajax 1130-41; Antig. 21-30, 43-48), prohibitions were not always permanent (fragments of the bodies in Lucan C.W. 2.166-68; 2 Sam 21:13), those who could not be buried by free persons when executed for treason could be buried by slaves (Corn. Nep. 19 [Phocion], 4.4), in practice some Roman leaders might grant burial even to enemies (Appian R.H. 12.9.60), and, most widely attested, withholding burial was viewed as impious (e.g., Hom. 11. 24.22-137; Soph. Ajax 1326-69; Antig. 278-79,450-55, 692-95, 1348-53; Eurip. Suppliants 19; Lucan C.W. 7.809-11).
The Romans normally preferred having the bodies of condemned criminals rot on crosses (Petron. Sat. 112; Brown 1994: 962, 1208 cites also Phaedrus Fables of Aesop, Perotti's Appendix 15.9; Hor. Epodes 1.16.48), but Jewish custom prohibited this final indignity, demanding burial even for the condemned by sunset (Deut 21:23; Jos. War 4.317; see further Safrai 1974/76b: 774). The Jewish people may ordinarily have buried condemned criminals in a common grave reserved for that purpose (cf. m. Sanh. 6:5; t. Sanh. 9:8; Daube 1973: 311; Daube 1956: 342; elsewhere, e.g., Corn. Nep. 4 [Pausanias], 5.5), a purposely shameful burial (especially if a Jewish court rather than a Roman one rendered the verdict — cf. Jos. Ant. 5.44; b. Sanh. 47b).268 Although Roman custom in this period officially prohibited burying the executed (Tac. Ann. 6.29; cf. Petron. Sat. 112), the Romans sometimes surrendered the corpse to friends or relatives who sought permission to bury them (Philo Flacc. 83-84; Taylor 1952: 600; Lane 1974a: 578 also cites Cie. Orationes Philippicae 2.7.17; Plut. Antonius 2).269 Pilate would hardly cooperate with Jesus' accusers (historically likely, as we noted above, because consistent with the way matters were handled in the provinces), then suddenly defy the religious scruples of his subjects, which Pilate had previously learned the hard way could be intense (Jos. Ant. 18.59). Governors usually seem to have accommodated Jewish requests for the body, exceptions being noteworthy (Philo Flacc. 83-84; Gnilka 1997: 314). But unless Joseph already held special favor before Pilate (cf. Jos. Life 420-21), which is unlikely, only a courageous ally would identify himself before the governor as "friend" or patron of one condemned for conspiracy against Rome (cf. Chrys. Matthew, Homily 88; ACCS, 238; cf. also Brown 1994: 1217).270
To be sure, one might expect Joseph's status, like the women's gender, to afford him some protection; but from an aristocratic perspective, social prominence could invite closer scrutiny and hostility (Phaedrus 2.7.14-15; 3.5.1; 4.6.11-13; Babrius 4.6-8; 31.23-24; 64.10-11 ; Corn. Nep. 1 [Miltiades], 7.5-6; 2 [Themistocles], 8.1-7; 3 [Aristides], 1.1-5; 7 [Alcibiades], 4.1-2; 12 [Chabrias], 3.3; 19 [Phocion], 4.3). In any case, being associated with one condemned for treason was a dangerous matter (e.g., Herodian 1.13.6; 3.5.6; 4.6.1); though Pilate would not view Jesus as a major political threat, Joseph could not be sure of this in advance, and much of Matthew's audience may not have known governors' leniency toward Sanhedrists’ requests. Thus the tradition prefers Joseph's devotion at this point to that of the long-term disciples, though perhaps Joseph's status (like the women's gender) would in the end render him less vulnerable to retaliation. That Jesus was buried is also attested in pre-Pauline tradition known to Paul's readers in his own and other congregations (Rom 6:4; 1 Cor 15:4). A tradition that admitted Jesus' execution as a public enemy had no reason to invent for him a burial to remove shame, and had it invented one it might have invented more time for greater honors.
Only Matthew explicitly notes the use of Joseph's own family tomb, fulfilling Isaiah 53:12, but the tradition behind Mark 15:46 probably presupposes it (pace Brown 1994: 1252); how else would Joseph acquire a tomb so quickly? To bury Jesus in his own tomb (27:60) fits the situation of haste and location, but also suggests a special love normally reserved for family members or those equally esteemed (cf. 1 Kings 13:30-31). Further, archaeological evidence for the tombs in this area may suggest that the tomb belonged to a person of some material substance (Craig 1995: 148). The "newness" of the tomb (27:60; b. Sanh. 47b) may suggest that wealth had come into his family only in his own generation, or that rising prominence had led him to move closer to Jerusalem from another home.271
The earliest Christians preserved the accurate site of the tomb. Most Judean burial sites were private family tombs scattered around Jerusalem and elsewhere (Safrai 1974/76b: 779-80). Often these were caves with an opening covered by a large stone rolled in a groove; such stones could not be removed from within (Reicke 1974: 187; Yamauchi 1972: 112; Anderson 1976: 351; cf. m. ‘Erub. 1:7; Nazir 7:3; Ohoi. 2:4). Indeed, such stones would be cumbersome to move from the outside; people generally moved them only for reburials or new burials (Thompson 1962: 318; cf. examples in Josephus 1982: 283, 393). Because Joseph was well-to-do he probably owned a more ornate tomb, whose disk-shaped stone would be too large (a yard in diameter) for a single man to move even from outside (Thompson 1962: 318-19; Lane 1974a: 581). The practice of secondary burial — in which the corpse rots in an antechamber in the tomb for a year, then the bones are gathered in a box slid into a niche in the wall — is a largely first-century custom.272 Such burial involved no shoveling of dirt as today, and often no coffin (Meyers and Strange 1981: 98; Safrai 1974/76b: 780-81, 786; Carmon 1973: 121).273
That Jesus' followers would forget the site of the tomb (or that officials who held the body would not think it worth the trouble to produce it after the postresurrection Jesus movement arose) is extremely improbable. James and the Jerusalem church could easily have preserved the tradition of the site in following decades (Brown 1994: 1280-81), especially given Middle Eastern traditions of pilgrimage to holy sites (though admittedly evidence for early veneration there is lacking, perhaps because the body was not there — Craig 1995: 148-49, 152). The traditional Protestant "Garden Tomb" is a much later tomb and cannot represent the site of Jesus' burial;274 by contrast, the Catholic Holy Sepulchre and tombs in its vicinity date to the right period.275 The tradition of the latter vicinity is as early as the second century (when Hadrian erected a pagan temple there; he defiled many Jewish holy sites in this manner — cf. Finegan 1969: 164), and probably earlier. Good evidence exists, in fact, that this site dates to within the first two decades after the resurrection. This is because (1) Christian tradition is unanimous that Jesus was buried outside the city walls, and no one would make up a site inside (cf. Heb 13:12; Jn 19:41); (2) Jewish custom made it common knowledge that burials would be outside the city walls (4 Bar. 7:13; Wilkinson 1978: 146); (3) the traditional vicinity of the Holy Sepulcher is inside Jerusalem's walls; (4) Agrippa I expanded the walls of Jerusalem sometime in the 40s a.D.276
In contrast to the women and Joseph, the other participants in the tomb narrative have quite different motives: they want Jesus to stay buried lest his promises to reign stir hope. They want the whole Jesus movement to stay buried in the tomb (27:62-66).277 This paragraph inaugurates a contrast between the alleged deceitfulness of Jesus (27:63) and of his disciples (27:64) and, not long after, the actual deceitfulness of his enemies (28:13-15; cf. Gundry 1982: 582; Mt 24:4; on the possible relation to a charge before the Sanhedrin of being a "misleader," see Stauffer 1960: 230). Most early Christians, presumably frustrated with the power structures of their day, would likely have resonated with the portrait of the authorities wielding raw power. But while the religious leaders appear to have the power of life and death, the following resurrection narrative (and story line already known to Matthew's implied audience) reveals that God's power subverts the apparent power of such human initiative (see Weaver 1992: 399).
But the primary focus of this paragraph and its conclusion in 28:11-15 is the incontrovertible evidence Matthew apparently wishes to present for Jesus' resurrection. Sealing the stone (27:66) made it impossible for anyone to enter the tomb while the guards slept and then replace the stone (cf. Dan 6:17; Filson 1960: 299). Although Jesus has already left the tomb, the stone is first removed at 28:2. Because Matthew would hardly create a charge that did not exist, we may be sure that the primary polemic against the Christian claim concerning Jesus' resurrection was theft of the body (cf. Craig 1984; Meier 1980: 356).
Some think that Matthew's response about the guards is a Christian invention to counter that story (Schweizer 1975: 519);278 while this proposal is possible (would the authorities have taken Jesus' promises to reign more seriously than the disciples did?), it is also possible that the sources that betrayed information about Jesus' trials and perhaps about the temple veil would have had inside information about the guards. If Pilate did grant the priests a small contingent of guards, probably a quaternion (cf. Acts 12:4; Lake and Cadbury 1979: 134),279 Joseph of Arimathea would surely have learned of it and reported the incident. At the same time, if the charge of disciples stealing the body to which Matthew responds included the claim of the guards' witness (and the story would have more credibility if it claimed witnesses), the early Christians would not have needed "inside information." Based on firsthand knowledge of their own innocence and the resurrection appearances, as well as their acquaintance with high-priestly treachery in conjunction with Judas's betrayal, they could have reconstructed a basic account similar to the one Matthew preserves. The other Gospels could have suppressed the negative witness just as easily as Matthew could have created it. Officials would have posted guards to prevent theft of the corpse, as the story declares, rather than because they feared Jesus might reign and wished to detain him in the tomb!
Brown 1994: 1311 regards as a particularly strong argument against the historicity of the guards that the women could not hope to enter the tomb. But first of all, we cannot be certain that the guards would have prevented the women from paying respects to the body; after all, the guards were there to prevent theft and would hardly suspect these women of stealing the body under their noses. Perhaps they might even help in removing the stone (the real problem for access — Mk 16:3), which the women could not do by themselves; men generally treated women more gently than they treated other men (see comment on 20:20-28; the opening paragraphs under 27:55-66). Second and more important, however, the narrative's own logic counters this argument. If the guards were posted on the Sabbath as the narrative indicates (perhaps to indict the Sanhedrin's selective piety again — cf. 27:4-6), the women did not know that the guards were there.280
The Report of the Women (28:1-10)
Cf. Mk 16:1-8; Lk 24:1-12; Jn 20:1-18; Mk 16:9-11. The various resurrection narratives vary considerably in length, focus, and detail. If Q included a resurrection narrative, most of the Gospel writers treated it as one among many; given the many witnesses of the risen Christ (1 Cor 15:6), it is hardly surprising that numerous accounts would exist and different Gospel writers would draw on different accounts. The four Gospels differ in detail, but in all four the women become the first witnesses, and Mary Magdalene is explicitly named as one witness among them (also Gos. Pet. 12:50-13:57). Sanders 1993: 280 may be right to argue that "a calculated deception should have produced greater unanimity. Instead, there seem to have been competitors: 'I saw him first!' 'No! I did.'" But the divergent details suggest independent traditions, thereby underlining the likelihood of details the accounts share in common (e.g., Boyd 1995: 277-78). This fits what we should expect of eyewitness traditions. (Thus, for example, though two eyewitnesses who accompanied Alexander agreed that Callisthenes was in-dieted, publicly scorned, and died, and though their accounts could be called entirely trustworthy [pany pistol], they differ even on whether he died by sickness or hanging — Arrian Alex. 4.14.3. The variation in the Gospel accounts is far less significant than this.)
The variation in length of the Gospels' resurrection narratives (Lk 24 is long though recapitulated briefly in Acts 1 ; Mt 28 is quite brief) may represent the desire to make optimum use of scroll length rather than leaving a blank space at the end (as sometimes happened — Diog. Laert. 6.2.38). Josephus once seems caught unexpectedly by the end of his scroll (Jos. Apion 1.320); Matthew, approaching the length limit of his standardized scroll (see the Introduction), may hasten to his conclusion. He surveys the testimony of the women (28:1-10), the testimony of the guards (28:11-15), and finally the testimony of the church (28:16-20) related to that of the women.
The Gospel narratives agree that the revelation of Christ's resurrection began on the first day of the week, after the Sabbath (Mt 28:1 ; Mk 16:1 ; Lk 24:1 ; Jn 20:1; cf. 20:19, 26). Especially in Mark and Matthew, this language makes it clear that the earliest Christians regarded Sunday as a special day celebrating the resurrection (cf. Acts 20:7; 1 Cor 16:2; Justin 1 Apol. 67; Iren. frg. 7), perhaps even "the Lord's day" (cf. Rev 1:10; Did. 14.1; Vanni 1978; but note Strand 1967; Lewis 1968), but not as a new Sabbath (this developed in the second century and later; cf. Ign. Magn. 9.1; Barn. 15.8-9; Chadwick 1967: 128; Bacchiocchi 1977), which among the earliest Jewish Christians remained on the last day of the week. The tradition is too early to be influenced by Mithraism (pace Cary and Haarhoff 1946: 344), which did not spread widely in the Roman world until the next century (Grant 1986: 40-41);281 this simply was the day Jesus' followers found the empty tomb, the day after the Sabbath. Sunday became the "Lord's Day" because of the discovery of the empty tomb rather than the reverse.
First, the narrative demonstrates that those of whom society thinks the least are often those whom God sends with his message. Not all testimony was regarded as being of equal merit; the trustworthiness of witnesses was considered essential (CD 9.21-22; 10.1). Most of Jesus' Jewish contemporaries held little esteem for the testimony of women;282 this reflects a broader Mediterranean limited trust of women's speech and testimony also enshrined in Roman Iaw 283 By contrast, the guards' report that the disciples had stolen the body (28:11-15) might command much greater respect then,284 and in an antisupernaturalistic culture like much of modern academia as well. Indeed, even the disciples in the late tradition in Mark 16:11 did not believe the women — a tradition that may reflect historical reality at this point (Vermes 1973: 40-41; cf. Ps-Philo 9:10). For the early Christians, neither the empty tomb nor the testimony of the women was adequate evidence by itself (cf. Lk 24:22-24); they also depended on the testimony of men for the public forum (1 Cor 15:5-8; cf. Stauffer 1960: 151; Dunn 1975: 126).285 No one had apologetic reason to invent the testimony of these women, but the Gospel writers may have a profound theological purpose in preserving it.
Matthew lays these two reports, the true and the false, side by side, forcing his audience to declare their choice. The testimony of the women thus becomes a model for the disciples who will follow them (28:16-20). Jesus commissions them as his shaliahim — agents or apostled ones (see comment on 10:5) — to bring news of his resurrection to his own disciples. Their faithfulness, like Joseph's (27:55-61), is laid over against the authorities' deceitful accusation of deceit (27:62-66); Matthew thereby calls his audience to suffer rejection and dishonor at the hands of the hostile authorities of their own day.286 In ancient literature, one woman's wrong behavior could be held against her gender (Hom. Od. 11.432-34, 436-39, even though Clytemnestra also slew Cassandra in 11.422; Eurip. Orestes 1153-54);287 likewise, a woman's prowess or courage could shame men into acts of valor (Virg. Aen. 11.734; Ovid Metam. 8.380-89, 392,401-2), though they might also allow the woman's honor (Virg. Aen. 11.846-47; Ovid Metam. 8.425-27). Such examples suggest that ancient readers generally noticed the gender of heroes when they were female; it is thus not unreasonable to suppose that Matthew expects the positive performance of these women to reflect favorably on their gender. But more importantly, as female examples could provoke both women and men, the women in Matthew's narrative function as a model for disciples, male or female.
Although Matthew is less explicit than Mark about unfinished business in the burial (Mk 16:1), the approach of the Sabbath with sundown (Mt 27:57)288 and the return of the women after the Sabbath had ended Saturday at sundown and Sunday's morning light had come suggest that this was the purpose for which the women came in the first Gospel as well.289 (Gundry 1982: 585-86 thinks that the women in Matthew arrive Saturday evening, but against this interpretation, epiphōskō in Mt 28:1 means "grow toward dawn.") Jewish custom permitted women to attend to corpses of either gender, although men could not tend women's corpses, and women were often permitted to engage in such preparatory burial rituals (for comparison with the Greek world, see Abrahamsen 1986: 121-22).
Second, the narrative reveals God's power (28:2-3). The angelic revelation exhibits points of contact with biblical theophanies. The description of glory recalls Jesus' own in 17:2 (cf. Dan 7:9; 10:5-6). In 4 Ezra, the heavenly Zion (10:25-27) has a countenance that flashes "like lightning" (10:25) and at its voice the earth quakes (10:26). Elsewhere, lightnings flash from the fiery face of a mighty angel and earthquakes accompany him (3 Enoch 22:9). (On such appearances see comment on 17:6-8.)290
The white clothes could allude to a variety of functions. Priests generally wore linen, including Egyptian priests (Appian C.W. 4.6.47; Plut. Isis 3-4, Mor. 352C; Apul. Metam. 11.10, 23; Lewis 1983: 92), those at the temple of Artemis (Acts of Jn 38), and Jewish priests (Jos. War 5.229; Pesiq. R. 33:10; Yadin 1962: 219). Worshipers wore white or linen in other worship settings (Eurip. Bacch. 112; Paus. 2.35.5; 6.20.3; Diog. Laert. 8.1.33; SEG 11.923 in Sherk 1988: 58; Ramsay 1904a: 386; cf. the change of garments in Olmstead 1959: 511), including the Jerusalem temple (Jos. War 2A; Ant. 11.327; Safrai 1974/76d: 877) and that of the Therapeutae during worship (Philo Cont. 66). A philosopher like Pythagoras might wear white wool (replaced in later times with linen — Diog Laert. 8.1.19). Perhaps because white could signify good and black evil (Diog. Laert. 8.1.34; Ovid Metam. 2.832),291 converts might wear linen (Jos. and Asen. 14:12/13; cf. Rev 3:4-5; 4:4; 19:8, 14). Pagan deities could appear in white garments (e.g., PGM 4.637-38, 698-99; inscr. in Grant 1953: 16); Jewish angels likewise appeared in linen (Ps-Philo 9:10; Rev 15:6) or white garments (1 Enoch 71:1; 87:2;292 90:31-33; 2 Macc 3:26; 11:8; Jannes and Jambres fragments in Chester Beatty Papryrus 16; cf. the exception in late Pesiq. R. 20:4), or clothed in glory (3 Macc 6:18; 1 Enoch 71:1; cf. Adam in Gen. Rab. 20:12). In this context, the angelic or theophanic functions are paramount.
That the angel "sits" on the stone (28:2; cf. Mk 16:5, likely seated elsewhere) is itself a dramatic statement of supernatural triumph since the stone, probably disk-shaped, would not naturally accommodate one sitting on it; single-handedly rolling away the stone also indicated great strength (cf. Gen 29:8, 11). Ancients had other traditions of becoming "like the dead" before a deity's holiness (Diod. Sic. 4.24.5), but 28:4 reflects the biblical tradition (Rev 1:17; see comment on Mt 17:6; for the idiom more generally, cf. Jos. Ant. 6.306). Although the guards feared for their lives, God had no intention of slaying them. Yet despite this manifestation of his power, they failed to believe (28:15).
Matthew abbreviates Mark's account yet heightens the miraculous;293 in Mark, even the angel can be mistaken for a young man, who is less explicit about the resurrection (Montefiore 1968: 1:402 thus surmises that the Markan account may be historically accurate). Some attribute this heightening of the miraculous to haggadic elaboration of Mark (Beare 1981: 542), but Mark may as easily have toned down other features to condense his conclusion (like his introduction in Mk 1:1-13 or 1:1-15) and focus on vindication by the resurrection sign alone.294
Various non-Markan material here recurs in John and Luke-Acts (e.g., 28:6; cf. Lk 24:6), suggesting access to non-Markan resurrection traditions or material in a now-lost ending of Mark (Wenham 1973; Gundry 1982: 590-91).295 It is, in fact, difficult to doubt that such other traditions would have existed, given the large number of witnesses to the resurrection (cf. 1 Cor 15:5-7). Some scholars are convinced that one can completely harmonize the stories of the women at the tomb if we grant that the Gospel writers reported only data essential to their distinctive accounts (Hodges 1966); others, while acknowledging that the conviction of the resurrection is early, doubt that our current Easter stories belong to the earliest stratum of tradition (Dibelius 1949: 139). While harmonization approaches become strained when they misunderstand the liberties literary historians sometimes took in recounting secondary details (see the Introduction), they do work harder than more skeptical approaches to make the best possible sense of the data we have. On any account, two matters are plain: (1) the differences in accounts demonstrate that the Gospel writers were aware of a variety of independent traditions; (2) these divergent traditions overlap significantly, hence independently corroborate the basic outlines of the story.
Third, the narrative shows that God is selective in his revelation (28:4-9). Although the guards witnessed God's power, the angel spoke only to the women; often when people fell before a revelation as if they were dead, the revealer declared, "Fear not."296 But here the angel says "Fear not" to the women, not to the guards who had fainted before him (28:4-5; cf. 28:10; 17:7; Mk 16:6; Dan 10:11-12). Jesus appears directly to the women as well, but not to those who did not believe (28:8-10; cf. Acts 10:41). In view of the prejudice against women's testimony in antiquity (see above), no one would have invented the testimony of the women attested in all four Gospels; indeed, Paul even omits it.
The initial dependence of the men on the testimony of the women reflects the gospel's power to transcend gender restrictions (Thompson 1985: 233). When the women met Jesus, they worshiped (28:9) — finally responding as the wise Gentiles had (2:2, 11), yet — again with an ironic touch — before the male disciples did (28:17).297 Nevertheless, Jesus does not cast off the male disciples here; he identifies the disciples to whom he is sending them as his "brothers" (12:50; 25:40; cf. a similar tradition in Jn 20:17, via Mary Magdalene).298
Because Paul explicitly reports only resurrection appearances, some suppose that the empty tomb tradition was a myth;299 Mack, for example, suggests that before the Gospels we have only Paul's account of "visions" (Mack 1988: 308).300 But while Paul's language could include visionary experiences,301 he is reporting earlier Palestinian tradition in 1 Corinthians 15:3-7,302 and Palestinian Jews did not speak of nonbodily resurrections.303 (Dibelius 1971: 191, who doubts that Paul had the empty tomb tradition because he does not mention it, nevertheless recognizes that Paul would have to assume it based on Jewish premises about the nature of the resurrection. But if early disciples assumed it they would have checked, and given the availability of traditions concerning the resurrection apearances, Paul had no reason to mention the far more ambiguous evidence of the empty tomb.) Nor would anyone have persecuted them for simply affirming that they had seen someone who had been dead; apart from the bodily character of the resurrection — the sort that would leave an empty tomb — people would merely assume that they claimed to see a ghost, a noncontroversial phenomenon (cf. comment on 14:26; note on 1:20).304 Ghosts were "phantasms" that appeared especially at night (Plut. Brutus 36), but this is not what the resurrection narratives report (Lk 24:40; Sanders 1993: 278). Further, very little evidence suggests the plausibility of successive and mass, corporate visions (e.g., Schweizer 1971: 48-49; see especially 1 Cor 15:5-7).305 Those inventing an empty tomb tradition would hardly have included women as the first witnesses (see above), and "Jesus' resurrection could hardly have been proclaimed in Jerusalem if people knew of a tomb still containing Jesus' body" (Schweizer 1971: 48).306
Those who witnessed Jesus alive from the dead (e.g., 1 Cor 15:1-8; virtually all the narrative accounts also suggest significant conversation with him, rather than fleeting appearances) were so convinced of the veracity of their claims that many devoted their lives to proclaiming what they had seen, and some died for it; clearly their testimony was not fabricated (Sanders 1993: 280).307 Supposed pagan parallels to the resurrection stories are weak (see Aune 1981: 48).308 Most pagans would have preferred to play down a savior's human death (Boring 1995: 151, comparing Philost. V.A. 7:14).
Excursus on Mysteries, Resurrection, and Salvation
The Mysteries appear to have been less popular than was once thought (Rives 1998). They apparently influenced some Palestinian Jewish thought in late antiquity, though the exact date of the evidence is unclear. Numismatic evidence indicates some presence of the Mysteries in Palestine (Avi-Yonah 1974/76a: 60; Flusser 1974/76: 1,065- 1,100); the influence of a third-century-A.D. Mithraeum in Caesarea (on the Mithraeum see Bull 1974; Lease 1975; Flusser 1974/76: 1099) is unclear, since Caesarea was of mixed population and the date is much later than our period (cf. Charlesworth 1985: 82). Mystery language did infiltrate some forms of Judaism (Philonenko 1975; idem 1965),309 but pagan accusations that confused Judaism and the Mysteries (Russell 1932: 338; cf. Reitzenstein 1978: 174-84) do not constitute good evidence that Judaism as a whole made that confusion; Reitzenstein's claim that "Even in Trajan's time the Roman Jewish community still... either altogether or in large part worshiped the Zeus Hupsistos Ouranios and the Phrygian Attis together with Yahweh" (1978: 125) lacks the support of subsequent research into Roman Judaism.
The language of the Mysteries clearly infiltrated Christian writers of the second century and later. Tertullian claims that Christianity has the true Mysteries, of which others are poorer and later copies (Apol. 47.14). Such language becomes much more prevalent in the third and fourth centuries A.D. (Eliade 1958: 120).310 Yet it is possible that some features of the Mysteries derive from Christianity. As they began to lose devotees to Christians in a later period, the Mysteries could have adopted some features of Christianity; many of the "parallels" in the Mysteries occur only in the later period (Metzger 1955: 10-11 ; Eliade 1958: 115). That the church fathers understood the Mysteries as "imitation demoniaque du Christianisme" (Benoit 1975: 79-81 ) may suggest that they, like many early modern students of these cults, read them through the grid of their own Christian background, and the ready-to-hand explanation of demonic imitation may have led them to heighten rather than play down the similarities between the two.
Much of the most specifically Mystery vocabulary is lacking in earliest Christianity: Metzger, following Nock, lists such terms as mystēs, mystikos, mystagōgos, katharmos, katharsia, katharsis, teletē, and so on (1955: 11). What is perhaps more significant is the different perspective on the events described by the two kinds of religions. As Metzger points out (1955: 20),
... the Mysteries differ from Christianity's interpretation of history. The speculative myths of the cults lack entirely that reference to the spiritual and moral meaning of history which is inextricably involved in the experiences and triumph of Jesus Christ.311