Who Crucified Jesus?

By N. B. Stonehouse

Westminster Theological Seminary, Philadelphia.

THE title of this article coincides with that of a recently published book which answers the question in a fashion so arresting and novel and withal so far-reaching in its implications for the understanding of the gospels that the reader is compelled to face the question for himself.[1] While the question superficially considered may appear to concern only a peripheral historical detail, further reflection will disclose that no one can make any affirmation about Jesus Christ, and least of all one that relates to his death, without taking a position, explicitly or implicitly, on the decisive issue of faith or unbelief. Consequently, whether we come to agree or to disagree with the thesis of this book, it serves the highly useful purpose of stimulating us to observe with greater alertness what the records actually say on this momentous subject.

Professor Zeitlin must be credited, we believe, with a rare achievement. For here is a book devoted to a phase of antiquarian research which turns out to be a tract for the times. Our interest is aroused by the fact that a noted Jewish authority on Rabbinics writes on the ever-fascinating theme of the crucifixion and we know in advance that his treatment can hardly be stereotyped. We soon discover, moreover, that in spite of all that has been written on the subject he comes forward with a brand new thesis concerning the condemnation of Jesus which absolves the Jewish people from implication in this event which has come to be weighted down with tragic meaning for hosts of the sons of Jacob. To add to its appeal the author effectively challenges the reader to observe that “history is the teacher of life” (to use the phrase which he borrows from Cicero), which means in this instance that the study of the struggles between absolutist and tyrannical powers and the representatives of decency and piety will provide sound insights for the solution of our problems as we today pass through catastrophic and world-shaking experiences. In a time when Chaucer and Latin are held by some political leaders to be a waste of time, and Josephus and Hebrew would probably receive even less complimentary characterization, it is refreshing to read a defense of the study of history. In particular Dr. Zeitlin appeals to history to fashion an impressive appeal for the elimination of anti-Semitism as unworthy of the democratic spirit and as based upon an unhistorical judgment of the responsibility of the Jews for the death of Jesus.

The thesis of the book, negatively stated, is that the Jews did not crucify Jesus, that in fact this accusation against the Jews “is a tragic libel evilly wrought on an innocent people” (p. 179). Obviously, to lend plausibility to this negative proposition the author must seek to establish a positive explanation of the actual nature of the developments leading to the crucifixion, an explanation which will stand the test of scrutiny, and herein is discovered the chief novelty of the book. Expressed in its barest outline his position is “that neither the modern Jew nor his ancestors were responsible in any way whatsoever for the death of Jesus. For Jesus fell victim to a cruel pagan imperialism whose malign spirit is as much alive today as it was in the days of ancient Rome” (p. xiv). In other words, Jesus was not the victim of the hostility of the Jews, but like the Jews in ages since suffered at the hands of a ruthless political system.

Does Zeitlin then mean to imply that no Jews whatever were involved in the sordid business? Well, not quite. For the high priest of the day and certain associates do not come off very well; in fact, they are likened to the Quislings of our day. It is insisted, however, that the Jewish people as a people cannot be held responsible for the action of one who was ready to sell out his country for the sake of personal advantage. To quote a fuller statement of the author’s conclusion:

“Jesus was crucified as the King of the Jews. The Jewish religious Sanhedrin and the Jewish people had nothing to do with the trial of Jesus. The high priest who actually delivered Jesus to the Roman authorities either was compelled to do so to save himself so as not to be accused of being an accessory to the rebels; or, most likely, Caiaphas, the high priest, played the rôle of a Quisling who proved ready to sell out Judea to the Romans for personal gain” (pp. 171f.; cf. pp. 210f.).

We should gladly admit of course that, if the Jewish people actually dissociated themselves from the high priest and repudiated his actions, in so far as he was an accomplice of Pilate, we could not fairly charge the Jews with even a measure of moral responsibility for the crime. But of course such dissociation and repudiation would have to be established.

The reader who has any acquaintance with the Biblical records is likely to interpose at this point a further question: how is it permissible to require the high priest to shoulder all the blame, in so far as any blame attaches to the Jews at all, when actually Jesus was condemned by the Sanhedrin, the highest official body of the Jewish people? In answering this question the author displays his greatest originality. The official sanhedrin had nothing whatever to do with the judicial process, he insists; so to understand the records is to fail to make them intelligible. Jesus was condemned, not by the official sanhedrin which could in truth have acted on behalf of the Jewish people, but by a political sanhedrin summoned by the high priest for the special purpose of dealing with Jesus, and this subservient-assembly, a kind of outlaw body which was not subject to the control of a defined judicial procedure, and was operating under the protection and with the encouragement of the capricious procurator Pilate, was responsible for the condemnation of Jesus as a political offender against the Roman state. On this view the circle of Jewish Quislings of course is seen to include several persons in addition to the high priest, and the Jews do not get off scot free. Still one can conceive of the possibility that a small company of persons whose action would be at variance with the wishes of the people might engineer a plot against Jesus, and we should in that event be most ungenerous to attribute the blame for Jesus’ death to the entire Jewish people.

Actually of course no one can fairly derive from the New Testament the notion that the Jews bear sole responsibility for the death of Jesus. Jesus was put to death by Pilate and endured a Roman form of death penalty. It is true, nevertheless, that a reading of the New Testament leaves the distinct impression that the leaders of the Jews, including both Pharisees and Sadducees, were deeply implicated and shared the moral responsibility for it. The initiative is distinctly not assigned to the Roman government, and apparently not to a small company of traitors who were influenced solely by political considerations. Are we mistaken in these impressions? What is the evidence that the death of Jesus was an act of Pilate in which Jewish participation was restricted to the actions of a few persons who were members of a special political court completely dominated by a Quisling high priest?

Were There Two Sanhedrins?

The evidence which is held to substantiate the conclusion of Professor Zeitlin is presented in two nearly equal divisions, the former being concerned with a sketch of the background of Jewish history based principally on Jewish sources, and the latter with a discussion of the New Testament record. With the detailed treatment of the political, economic, social and religious background we are not concerned here but for one significant exception. That exception is the chapter devoted to the subject of “The Two Sanhedrins” wherein the author attempts to establish his case for the judgment that alongside of the sanhedrin which had jurisdiction over the religious affairs of the Jewish people there was another sanhedrin “whose main function was to try offenders against the state”, which might well be designated “the political Sanhedrin” (p. 76). This sanhedrin, it is contended, was distinguished from the official sanhedrin not only by the types of cases which came before it, but also in other important respects. Its constituency was not made up of scholars but of men amenable to the wishes of the state; no specific statutes guided its time of meetings and procedure; it was called together for special sittings when a case arose but did not hold sittings at regular times (pp. 77f.).

Without doubt the proved existence of such a distinct sanhedrin would constitute a fact of highly significant bearing upon our understanding of the process in which Jesus was condemned. It remains true, however, even if the existence of such political courts can be established, that it would still be subject to debate whether such an outlaw body rather than the official court of the Jewish people must be charged with the responsibility of condemning Jesus and securing the sanction and services of the Roman governor for his execution.

The terminology employed by Zeitlin to distinguish the two sanhedrins, namely, “the religious Sanhedrin” and “the political Sanhedrin”, it should be borne in mind, is altogether his own. He does not refer to any document which makes such a distinction, nor for that matter to any record which distinguishes them under any other designations. Apart from the confirmation which the New Testament is held to provide, all the evidence appealed to in order to prove the existence of the political sanhedrin is found in the writings of Josephus. Seven different contexts are cited as demonstrating that Josephus had knowledge of a distinct political sanhedrin (pp. 79-83). In view of the decisive bearing of this appeal upon the thesis of the book, each passage must be scrutinized in turn.

The first four passages relate to actions of Herod the Great against the deposed king Hyrcanus, his wife Mariamne, his sons, and his sister-in-law. In the first case Josephus relates how Herod was determined to do away with the threat to his security represented by the ex-king. He apparently fabricated a letter which would implicate Hyrcanus in treachery, and then summoned his victim into his presence. And when Hyrcanus denied any guilt, Josephus concludes, Herod “showed the letter to the sanhedrin and put the man to death”.[2] Here certainly there is no solid grounding of Zeitlin’s thesis: there is not a word of the summons of a sanhedrin, nothing of a trial. Herod merely on his own authority dispatched the object of his fear and hate; only he thought enough of his reputation to manufacture evidence, confront his victim with it, and, failing to secure a confession of guilt, to advertise his scrupulous zeal for justice by exhibiting the “evidence” to the sanhedrin. This context therefore is far from disclosing the existence of two sanhedrins or of a specially constituted political sanhedrin.

In the second case there is indeed more of the semblance of a trial by a specially created court. The company which Herod assembled for the trial of Mariamne is described as consisting of his most friendly relations (τοὺς οἰκειοτάτους αὐτῷ). And in reporting their decision Josephus says merely that when “the company” (οἱ παρόντες) had heard Herod’s intemperate accusation and was “at length satisfied that he was so resolved, they passed the sentence of death upon her”.[3] The jury accordingly was packed and the charges were trumped up. But was the court a Jewish sanhedrin? Was it “the political sanhedrin”? It is not designated as a sanhedrin, and what is more important it was certainly not a company that could have been confused in any way with the official Jewish sanhedrin.

The third instance in some respects comes nearer to supplying the requirements which Dr. Zeitlin sets down for the political sanhedrin. Herod is permitted by the Roman emperor to deal with his sons, but is advised to provide for an examination of the plot against him in a public court (κοινοῦ συνεδρίου), which in the context is also referred to as a δικαστήριον. Following Caesar’s advice it was constituted of Herod’s own relatives, the governor of Syria and other prominent officials. Of Herod’s relatives his sister Salome and his brother Pheroras receive special mention, while Archelaus is specifically excluded as being regarded with distrust. Moreover, we learn that on the emperor’s direction the court met at Berytus (Beirut).[4] The court therefore is designated as a συνέδριον, and yet is clearly not the official Jewish sanhedrin. It was a mere tool of Herod since it was packed with those who were known to be ready to carry out his wishes. In spite of these considerations, however, we fail to understand how anyone can seriously propose that this narrative bears in any way whatsoever upon the question whether in Palestine there existed alongside of the official sanhedrin another sanhedrin of a politicial character. At most the incident proves that capricious and jealous rulers were not unknown to gain their political ambitions by going through the form of bringing their enemies into mock courts whose sentence was determined in advance.

The final case associated with Herod in similar fashion tells of Herod’s methods of dealing with another relative who had threatened his security. In this instance he charged his sister-in-law with alienating the affections of her husband, Pheroras, for Herod — a quite unmodern triangular collision. In his indignation, we read, “he assembled a council (ἀθροίσας οὖν συνέδριον) of his friends and relatives” and accused her of many misdeeds.[5] The Greek word συνέδριον is employed here to describe the assembly, but of course it is used in Greek literature to designate a great variety of assemblies, and does not constitute evidence that we have to do here with a Jewish sanhedrin. Moreover, in the present situation there is no intimation of the conduct of even the semblance of a trial. There is no formal decision against the wife of Pheroras. Nothing more evidently than a kind of family council is in view, and consequently nothing is established as to the existence of a political sanhedrin in Judaism. These passages accordingly cast a gloomy light upon Herod and his times, but they add nothing particularly to our knowledge of the circumstances in which Pilate at the instigation of a Jewish sanhedrin consented to the crucifixion of our Lord.

The other three passages from Josephus deal with situations which developed, considerably after the death of Jesus, when the political circumstances had altered in certain important respects. The great-grandson of Herod the Great, Agrippa II, is now king. In the first of these contexts Josephus relates that many of the Levites who were singers of hymns persuaded the king to assemble a sanhedrin (καθίσαντα συνέδριον) in order to gain permission to wear linen garments as well as the priests, appealing to the king’s vanity by reminding him that he might be remembered for this novelty. They succeeded in their plan, Josephus adds, for the king  “with the consent of those that came into the sanhedrin” granted this privilege. The paragraph ends with the solemn observation that this action, like certain others, was contrary to the paternal laws (τοῖς πατρίοις νόμοις).[6] With regard to this case Zeitlin concludes: “this Sanhedrin could only have been political. The demands of the Levites to wear linen garments in the Temple were motivated by social reasons not by religious ones” (p. 80). A second reason for maintaining that this sanhedrin, like the others mentioned above, was political is that it was summoned, whereas, according to Zeitlin, the provisions for the religious sanhedrin provided no occasion for a special summons “since it held its sessions daily, except on Saturdays and on holydays” (p. 80; cf. p. 71). To this latter consideration we must protest that the regulations of the Mishna, even if they belong to the Tannaitic period, cannot, because of their written codification at a much later time, be regarded as establishing positively the procedure of the sanhedrin at the time of Christ. Professor Zeitlin is himself a witness to the sharply varying fortunes and circumstances of the Jewish people and their government in the chaotic and turbulent situations which preceded the fall of Jerusalem. It is clearly impossible to prove from the Talmudic regulations of the sessions of the Sanhedrin that it was so continuously in session that it could never have been summoned by a king or by a high priest. And, turning to the former consideration, namely, that which appeals to the social motivation of the request of the Levites, we regard the evidence as showing unmistakably that the issue was fundamentally religious rather than political. To note that the request of the Levites was motivated by social ambition does not alter, in our opinion, the fundamental fact that they requested the abolition of religious regulations, and that consequently the decision represented a transgression against the “paternal laws” of the Jewish people rather than against the laws of the state. We do not see how Josephus could have expressed more unambiguously his judgment that the king had erred in bending the official sanhedrin to his will so that it was ready to set aside a distinctly religious enactment.

Nothing in truth is said as to the constituency of this sanhedrin. Perhaps Josephus implies that not all the regular members took part in the decision. But in any case there is nothing to suggest that he chose the members of it in order to secure a political end.

The sixth passage relates how the high priest Ananus in the interval after the death of the procurator Festus, and before the arrival of his successor Albinus, A. D. 62, “assembled a sanhedrin of judges”, brought James, the brother of Jesus, and certain others before it, and accusing them of having transgressed, the law, delivered them to be stoned. The whole matter was brought to the attention of Agrippa and Albinus with the result that Ananus was quickly deposed from the high priesthood. It is also pertinent to observe that Albinus was informed, according to Josephus, that it had been unlawful for Ananus to summon a sanhedrin without his consent.[7] Now Zeitlin concludes on what seems to us completely inadequate grounds that James must have been tried for a political offense and that consequently the court must have been a political sanhedrin. The evidence appealed to is that Ananus convened a sanhedrin and that James was “most likely” accused as a follower of the new sect, the Christians (p. 82). As we have observed above, the mere fact that a sanhedrin was summoned, in this case illegally, is not of sufficient weight to establish this hypothesis. Moreover, in this context, as in the previous passage, Josephus seems clearly to mark the offense of which Ananus thought James guilty as a transgression of the Jewish law rather than as an offense against the state, for he contrasts the severity of the Sadducees with the greater moderation of others who were better informed as to the law (meaning, apparently, the Pharisees). And if Ananus were exhibiting here the zeal of a Quisling rather than of a religionist, it would become difficult to explain why he is represented as having seized the opportunity provided by the absence of the Roman procurator to accomplish the death of James. If he had waited for the arrival of Albinus he might, on the assumption that the alleged offense of James was political, have insured the good will of the Roman governor by accusing James before him. His precipitate action points therefore most naturally to the assumption that his quarrel with James concerned a religious issue between the Sadducees and the Christian church. And it is interesting to observe that in this case at least the high priest took the initiative in bringing about the death of a follower of Jesus, and that therefore blameworthy actions of this kind were not in every case the result of pressure which the Roman procurators laid upon them to suppress every movement that might be suspected of political disloyalty.

The final passage cited by Zeitlin envisages a completely distinctive situation when, during the revolt against Rome, the Jews gained their independence momentarily. Josephus, who became a first-rank appeaser himself, writes without sympathy for the Zealots, the revolutionary party, and he accuses them of having instituted various mock courts and trials (δικαστήρια καὶ κρίσεις) when they wearied of massacres, and in particular tells how, when they determined to do away with a certain prominent citizen named Zacharias, they summoned seventy of the leading men to the Temple to act as judges. When Zacharias made a successful defense before them and was acquitted of the charge of treason, the historian states that the Zealots became indignant that the judges had not understood that their authority had not been that of an actual court of justice (δικαστήριον), but was given merely in pretence. Later on two of the Zealots slew Zacharias in the midst of the temple.[8] This incident then provides an example of a mock court constituted to carry out the murder of an innocent man. It fails, however, to illuminate procedure under the Roman procurators, and provides no support whatever of the theory that there were two distinct sanhedrins in the Judaism of the days of Jesus, the sanhedrin which dealt with religious matters and another body which was concerned with crimes against the state.

Following his comments upon these seven passages from Josephus, Dr. Zeitlin summarizes his conclusion as follows:

“Thus, we have established the existence at the time of Jesus of two types of Sanhedrin, a religious Sanhedrin about which we learn from the Tannaitic literature, and the political Sanhedrin, which Josephus records” (p. 83).

This conclusion, in our judgment, is far from being grounded in the evidence. Indeed, we cannot conceal our amazement that this hypothesis, put forward so confidently, appears to rest on such a fragile basis. None of the passages presupposes a political situation like that which existed when Jewish leaders collaborated with the Roman procurator to condemn Jesus to death. In one case Herod considers it prudent to submit an incriminating document to “the sanhedrin”, but for the rest he either deals summarily with the victims of his jealousy and hatred, or goes through the form of prosecuting them before “courts” packed with their supporters. Agrippa and Ananus summon sanhedrins, and take advantage of the supineness of their members to secure actions which suited their personal whims, but the contexts point to the supposition that these assemblies definitely exercised religious prerogatives and were apparently constituted of regular members of the Jewish Sanhedrin. And mock judicatories were set up by the Zealots in a time when Jewish life as a whole bore almost no resemblance to the life under the procurators. The distinct existence of “the political sanhedrin” is therefore by no means established and cannot be assumed in approaching the study of the record of the trial and crucifixion of Jesus.[9] Nevertheless, we can well afford to listen as Professor Zeitlin employs his hypothesis in the interpretation of the gospels.

The Testimony of the Gospels

We shall perhaps clarify the discussion of the records of the trial of Jesus if we observe the general approach to the gospels which this book takes. We shall hardly expect Zeitlin to share the presuppositions and approach of Christian orthodoxy. It develops, however, that he is also rather far from assuming the most common critical judgments of unorthodox scholars in our day. He does indeed insist that the records contain discrepancies and that they are characterized by a “theological accent” (pp. 101ff., 161) rather than by historical fidelity. On the other hand, most modern critics of the New Testament would find him rather naive in affirming as much as he does. For example, he argues quite like an orthodox scholar when he insists that Jesus could not have repudiated the Old Testament, both in view of his statement recorded in Matthew 5:17–20 and in view of his messianic claims which are “based on the validity of the Bible” (pp. 114f.). The typical criticism of our day, which regards the gospels as consisting essentially of theology rather than of history, commonly appeals to these very features of the gospel record as evidence of the theologizing action of the Christian church.

We doubt, moreover, whether many New Testament scholars of whatever theological tendency would regard his handling of textual questions as satisfactory. On the basis of his judgment that the variant readings in the manuscripts and versions frequently represent theological bias, he proceeds at several points to draw far-reaching conclusions from readings which possess exceedingly slender support (cf. pp. 102f., 138, 172f., 176). For example, he declares:

“That the Jews had a share in the guilt of the crucifixion of Jesus, the reader of the Passion story may be erroneously convinced on a surface reading of the Synoptic Gospels. However, on examining the readings of the manuscripts such a conclusion is not justifiable. Matthew 23:34, the Revised Version reads, ‘Wherefore, behold, I send unto you prophets and wise men and scribes and some of them ye shall kill and crucify and some of them shall ye scourge in your synagogues.’ The words, ‘and crucify and some of them ye will scourge in your synagogues,’ are omitted from some of the manuscripts, which indicates that they were not in the original Matthew” (p. 176).

Even if the evidence for the omission were far greater than it actually is (the edition of Legg notes only two cursive manuscripts as omitting the words in question), we fail to understand what conceivable justification there is for leaping to the dogmatic conclusion without further argument, that the words were not in the original Matthew.[10]

To do Professor Zeitlin justice we must not leave the impression that his case rests solely, or even mainly, upon a theory of interpolations into the text of the gospels of a view which implicates the Jews in moral responsibility for the death of Jesus. His method is in truth often arbitrary and is employed without the advantage of a carefully conceived judgment as to the place occupied by the gospels in the history of Christianity. His main argument nevertheless remains to be considered. In brief, he rests his case on the judgment that the records make sense only if the entire procedure, including betrayal, arrest, accusation, condemnation and execution, is observed to be a purely political matter (pp. 144ff.). Jesus was executed as “King of the Jews” by Pilate who must therefore have found him guilty of an offense against the Roman state. The high priest and his associates, acting as Quisling supporters of the authority of Rome, must have made the charge that Jesus was a rebel when they brought Jesus before Pilate. Previously, meeting at night as a political sanhedrin under the domination of the high priest they had conducted a preliminary examination wherein the basis of this charge must have been determined. Still earlier, because of their bond with the Roman procurator they had been able to enlist the aid of a Roman cohort of soldiers in order to arrest Jesus (Jn. 18:3). And, finally, it is maintained that the action of Judas in informing the high priest concerning Jesus must have been in the form of a report that the disciples of Jesus were about to declare him to be King of the Jews, an estimation which Judas himself found irreconcilable with his own acknowledgement of Jesus as the Son of God (pp. 162f.)! The rôle ascribed to Judas is wholly conjectural,[11] but for the rest we may admit that this reconstruction has the advantage of providing a very simple and apparently plausible explanation of the trial of Jesus. The question is, however, whether it is actually borne out by the evidence, whether this simple theory does not constitute an extreme oversimplification of a complex historical development.

The Political Situation

Passing over many details of the argument we shall concentrate on two broad criticisms. Our first fundamental objection to this reconstruction is that, although the issue is judged to be purely political, it fails even to take adequate account of the complexity of the political situation. Of course Pilate’s only interest in the case was occasioned by its political complexion. Not that he was a scrupulous and honorable judge, but his decision to consent to the death of Jesus was dictated by the demands made upon him to maintain tranquillity in Judea. From what we know of his ruthless and capricious actions it is clear that the maintenance of Pax Romana was not subordinated to the establishment of Iustitia Romana, not to speak of a higher justice. It is altogether plausible that he should have been prepared not only to suppress any revolutionary movement that appeared on the scene but also to cater to Jewish leaders whose support in handling the delicate situations occasioned by Jewish piety must have been recognized as a most valuable asset.

The high priest and his immediate associates may well have been as bad as Zeitlin makes them out to be, that is, appeasers and Quislings. As such they obviously had an important stake in maintaining the status quo, and any new movement that threatened their position of privilege would have been regarded as a menace to be dealt with in drastic fashion. We need not suppose then that they felt any necessity of taking their cue in each concrete situation from the Roman procurator; as Quislings they were in the advantageous position of taking the initiative as they saw fit when public order, as they conceived of it, was disturbed.

But is it true that the Pharisees could not have participated in the action against Jesus? Could not a sanhedrin, consisting of Pharisees and Sadducees, and perhaps even dominated so far as its purely religious decisions were concerned by the Pharisaic point of view, have instituted proceedings against him? Professor Zeitlin seems to consider the Pharisees as above any such political action, and accordingly is confident that the sanhedrin before which Jesus was hailed and where he was condemned could not have been the official sanhedrin of which they formed a large majority. The fact is, however, that the Pharisees, in spite of their radical differences from the Sadducees on religious questions, were characterized in this period by a readiness to appease the Roman government. In a situation where they were the acknowledged religious leaders of the people, they also had a great stake in the maintenance of the status quo. Zeitlin himself calls attention to the fact that the Pharisees had lost their revolutionary ardor and had come to adopt a policy of quietism (pp. 43f., 87f.). It may be recalled, moreover, that the Pharisees were unsympathetic with the policy of the Zealots, and that Josephus identified his point of view with that of the Pharisees. The sanhedrin which tried Peter, regarded by Zeitlin as a political sanhedrin (pp. 181ff.), included Pharisees, and in fact they apparently dominated the council inasmuch as the advice of Gamaliel was followed. Although this advice showed greater moderation than that of certain other members, there is no doubt that he, no more than the high priest, was willing to encourage revolutionary movements like that which centered about Judas of Galilee (Acts 5:37). Likewise the sanhedrin which tried Paul, which Zeitlin also considers a political body and not the official Jewish Sanhedrin, included many Pharisees (Acts 22:30; 23:6; cf. pp. 195ff.). Hence when the gospels refer the initiative in the process of Jesus to the sanhedrin, we may not exclude the Pharisees from participation in its actions.[12] Perhaps then the greater initiative in maintaining the supremacy of Roman authority would have come from the high priest and his party, but all that we know of the Pharisees agrees with the supposition that they would have been willing to cooperate with the Sadducees in indicting Jesus as a disturber of the peace and as a threat to revolution.

If then the Pharisees, as well as the Sadducees, who together made up the membership of the official Sanhedrin, cooperated with the Roman state in maintaining order, there is nothing incongruous in the statement of John 18:3 that a Roman cohort participated in the arrest of Jesus. Zeitlin points to this datum as evidence that we have to do with a purely political case (pp. 151, 155). But he himself admits that the Roman cohort was at the disposal of the high priests “in seizing all suspicious elements against the Roman state” (p. 156). Clearly then there is no implication that the arrest of Jesus was due to the initiative of the Roman state, but only that the high priest because of his position of favor could take advantage of the presence of the Roman soldiery at this season in dealing with a situation which he regarded as a threat to the peace. That John’s mention of the Roman cohort does not presuppose that the apprehension of Jesus was conceived of as the action of a Quisling high priest is confirmed incidentally by the fact that John in this very passage specifically mentions “the Pharisees” as associated with “the high priests” in the arrest.

The recognition of the great stake which the Pharisees as well as the high priests had in preserving their prestige and authority will account, moreover, for the unseemly haste and other “irregularities” of the trial. Zeitlin contends that the Sanhedrin which tried Jesus could not have been the official Jewish Sanhedrin because the procedure of that body was determined by statutes which excluded such irregularities. This claim involves two presuppositions, neither of which can be granted: (1) that the regulations set down in the Mishna many decades after the time of Christ necessarily represent the procedure of the Sanhedrin circa A. D. 30, and (2) that, assuming their currency at that time, they would necessarily have been consistently applied. The latter point is particularly doubtful. A Sanhedrin which was compelled to take cognizance constantly of the autocratic authority of Rome and which apparently cooperated actively in maintaining order against all threats of revolution would not be likely to be under a strong compulsion to adhere to the letter of the rabbinic regulations. And even the Mishna, as Billerbeck and Dalman have pointed out, allowed for exceptions, especially if it was thought that the non-observance of the law at one point might appear to be the means of its confirmation as a whole.[13]

The Religious Issue

Our second main criticism of Zeitlin’s approach to the question of the crucifixion of Jesus is that, in seeking to resolve the issue into a purely political conflict, he neglects all the evidence that the division between Jesus and the Jewish leaders, including Pharisees as well as Sadducees, was at bottom grounded in their religious differences. To construe the conflict as merely political requires one to pass over the consistent testimony of the evangelists on this matter. It moreover confronts the historian with the necessity of accounting for a sudden and abrupt outbreak of action against Jesus on political grounds in spite of all the evidence that Jesus himself never interpreted his messianic claims in a worldly or political sense. The hostility of the high priest to Jesus was indeed, as admitted above, grounded partially in the threat which he discovered in Jesus to his position of authority in the order of the day, and it was accordingly motivated by political considerations, but alongside of the issue of political power, and even transcending it in significance, there was the conflict of religious authority. It is after all the religious authority associated with the office of the high priest which alone accounts for the readiness of the Roman government to capitalize upon his subservience, as indeed for the willingness of devout Jews to tolerate him. There can be no doubt that the high priest and his aristocratic associates regarded the claims of Jesus to exercise authority in religious matters as a force that would tend to jeopardize their already precariously situated leadership. Zeitlin virtually admits this point when he says that Jesus’ action in driving the moneychangers from the temple “was a challenge against the authority of the high priest who ruled over the Temple precincts like a dictator” (p. 160), but this can hardly be construed as the first instance in which the high priest took cognizance of the religious claims of Jesus. Consequently, the New Testament records present an altogether congruous account when they represent the fundamental issue between Jesus and the Jewish leaders as religious, and yet show how, when they appeared before Pilate, they could construe it as political.

While then Zeitlin’s construction, in our judgment, oversimplifies the issue between Jesus and the aristocratic opportunists who belonged to the circle of the high priest, in that the profound dispute over authority in religious matters is neglected, he errs even more conspicuously in practically discounting the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees as a factor in the development of the final climax. Since the official Jewish Sanhedrin was composed to a large extent of Pharisees, the effect of Zeitlin’s claim, that not this body but a political group dominated by the high priest must be charged with complicity in the death of Jesus, is to exonerate the Pharisees altogether. As a matter of fact, along with a readiness to castigate the high priestly circle as appeasers and Quislings, this author presents a stout defense of the Pharisees whom he considers to be the “saviors of Judaism” (pp. 142f.). The record of Jesus’ conflict with the Pharisees, it is maintained, is colored considerably by a later attitude. In particular it is not allowed that Jesus himself could have called the Pharisees “hypocrites”.

With this important question of the relation of Jesus to the Pharisees, which has been in the foreground of discussion in recent decades, we cannot concern ourselves to any great extent in the present discussion. Even to expound and evaluate Zeitlin’s treatment of the subject in connection with his exceedingly interesting chapters on “The Sermon on the Mount” and “Jesus’ Controversies with the Pharisees” (pp. 114-143) would demand more space than is available here. On many individual points he is decidedly worth hearing. On the other hand, he fails to impress when he argues that various references to the Pharisees as “hypocrites”, especially in Matthew 23, must be regarded as interpolations into the original document (pp. 138ff.). The evidence of a sharp divergence between Jesus and the Pharisees is so pervasive that the decision cannot be made to depend upon the authenticity of certain phrases. The fundamental fault on this point is, we believe, that he has failed to grasp the real import of the teaching of Jesus.

So far as the Pharisees are concerned Zeitlin virtually admits their legalism, externalism and casuistry. These characteristics are placed, however, in a perspective which discloses that they are assets rather than liabilities. The fundamental motive of the Pharisees appears to be that the authority of the divine law should be maintained, and yet that the law should be adjusted to the practical situation in which weak and sinful men live, even if in effect such adjustments set aside the law. The Pharisaic approach to religious and ethical questions is illustrated in a variety of ways. For example, seeking to set aside the lex talionis, the Pharisees achieved their end by a “legal fiction”, that is, by limiting the right of a man who suffered the loss of an eye to take out an eye exactly like his own in size and color. This of course abolished the law (p. 120). The utilitarianism of the Pharisees receives pointed expression in the appraisal of their attitude toward the Sabbath: “The Pharisees were always ready to amend the laws of the Sabbath and to make it possible for the people to observe the Sabbath” (p. 130).

Jesus, on the other hand, is represented as an impractical moralist, who was unconcerned with human society and made no concessions to human nature, and who “relied entirely on ethics and ethical exhortation to change human nature” (p. 122). The differences between Jesus and the Pharisees, as expounded by Zeitlin, come to especially significant expression in connection with the discussion of oaths:

“And the Pharisees maintained that if a man took a corban, a vow, not to honor his father or his mother, he must keep that vow. By this Jesus claimed the Pharisees themselves were nullifying the Pentateuchal law of God. 

“In these charges and countercharges is reflected the philosophy of the Pharisees and Jesus concerning the nature of society. The Pharisees were the leaders of the religious Sanhedrin. As such, they had to take cognizance of the weaknesses of human nature, knowing that a person may transgress a precept; and therefore, it was their duty to find a way to give the person the opportunity for repentance and readjustment. Jesus, on the other hand, believed a person should be taught that he should never transgress the laws, not taking into consideration the weakness of humanity. 

“The corban, the vow. According to the Pharisees a vow must be kept since it is written in the Pentateuch that a man should not break his word. But if a man took a vow against the Biblical precept he must keep his vow, and not observe the precept for which, according to them, he would be punished for not observing the precept. However, to avoid a clash between two commandments in the Pentateuch, namely, ‘Honour thy father and thy mother’ and ‘He shall not break his word,’ the Pharisees introduced a legal fiction. If a man took a vow not to honor his father and his mother, he could absolve himself of his vow. This is called, in the Tannaitic literature, the ‘invalidation of vows.’ According to Jesus, however, no vow could be taken against a Pentateuchal precept, thus disregarding human weakness that a man might transgress, and take a vow against a Pentateuchal precept” (pp. 134f.).

Professor Zeitlin’s estimate of Jesus is correct, in our judgment, when he indicates that Jesus went beyond the externals of conformity to the law to appeal to the motive behind the act, but like many Liberals, he fails to plumb the depths of Jesus’ teaching chiefly because its God-centered character escapes him. The message of our Lord will never be comprehended if it is conceived as a mere moralism which appeals to men’s consciences and aims to bring about moral reform through human effort. Against the externalism and casuistry which in a purely formal manner upheld the authority of the law of God only to set it aside by legal fictions, and which failed therefore to enunciate the radical implications of the commandment of love to God and to one’s neighbor, Jesus brought men into the very presence of God by confronting them, not with an ethic constantly ready to adjust itself to human weakness and sin, but with the absolute demands of a holy and righteous God. Of course, the ethical message of Jesus does not comprise the whole of his teaching, for, alongside the message of the claims of the holy God for an absolute and whole-hearted obedience, there was also the proclamation of the coming of the rule of God with its gracious bestowal of the gifts of forgiveness and fellowship. But Jesus and the Pharisees are seen to be poles apart even in their teaching concerning the law of God. Occasionally indeed Zeitlin seems to admit that the differences between Jesus and the Pharisees was deep-seated, since they did not recognize his claim to speak with messianic authority and could not countenance his rejection of the traditions of the elders on the ground of their conflict with the law of God (e.g., p. 132). But these admissions fail to carry with them their full implications. For nothing less than an entirely different attitude toward religion and life is expressed by these differences.

Now Zeitlin objects strenuously to the testimony of the gospels that Jesus at times characterized the Pharisees as hypocrites (p. 143). It may be admitted that the word “hypocrite” as used today carries a somewhat harsher connotation than the Greek word ὑποκριτής. A “hypocrite” as used in the New Testament signifies one who pretends at something, that is, who is a play-actor, and hence one whose actions are not in conformity with his actual claims about himself. Paul even accused Peter and certain others of dissimulation (ὑπόκρισις) when they failed to act in consistency with their own principles (Gal. 2:13). This is not to say that the application of the term to the Pharisees in the gospels represents a mild rebuke. Quite the contrary. While it does not imply that the Pharisees without exception were completely lacking in sincerity, it does involve the judgment that their professions and practices were inconsistent. In our judgment, as much as this is established even on the basis of the admissions of Zeitlin. What was so repugnant to Jesus was that they set themselves up as teachers and guides for the religion of others, and yet did not fulfill the fundamental requirement of a teacher of religion that he should confront men with God himself, with the divine law and with the divine grace. Their “legal fictions” disclose the sad fact that they were not teachers of genuine religion at all, but only of a kind of practical ethic which countenanced all kinds of compromises with sin. In making the pretence of upholding the law of God, and yet using their energies to set it aside, they established the charge which Jesus made. The righteousness which Jesus demanded, on the contrary, bore no resemblance to the righteousness which the Pharisees enunciated, simply because it was the righteousness of God himself.[14]

It is because of his failure to gauge the profound religious issue which separated Jesus and the leaders of Judaism that Zeitlin’s reconstruction of the judicial process in terms of purely political considerations appears unrealistic. The crucial question of the actual nature of that process, as attested by the evidence, must nevertheless be considered. The Jews, we admit, did not actually perform the act of crucifying Jesus. That was Pilate’s responsibility. The question to be faced, however, is whether the Jews share the moral responsibility for the act inasmuch as they condemned him and prevailed upon Pilate to put him to death. What was the basis of the sanhedrin’s condemnation of Jesus? Did its condemnation rest on religious or on political grounds?

The Accusation of Blasphemy

As remarkable as any feature of the entire book is the manner in which the author, despite his acceptance of the historicity of the charge of blasphemy against Jesus, construes the process before the sanhedrin as political and not religious. That this is the author’s meaning appears most clearly from his comment on John 19:7, which he treats as an integral aspect of the actual development of events. The words of the accusers to Pilate, “We have a law and by that law (κατὰ τὸν νόμον) he ought to die because he made himself the Son of God” refer undoubtedly, he claims, to Roman law rather than to Jewish law, and therefore must be understood as meaning that “Jesus’ reference to himself as Messiah and the ‘Son of God’ was tantamount to challenging the authority of Caesar over the Jews” (pp. 168f.). But what is the basis for the conclusion that Roman law must be in view? There are two principal considerations advanced to support this proposition. The first is that “there is no Jewish law, either in the Bible or in the Talmud to the effect that a person who claims to be ‘Son of God’ is liable to capital punishment” (p. 168). And the second is derived from the fact that the text reads “the law” rather than “our law” (A. V.). On the latter point, it seems absurd to claim that, when the Jews say, “We have a law”, and then proceed to speak of the particular law which they have in mind, they are to be understood as referring to a Roman law rather than to a Jewish law. And as for the former consideration, it seems clear that the law against blasphemy as formulated in Leviticus 24:16 must be in mind rather than an infringement of a Roman law against insurrection.

We receive the impression, moreover, from the Matthaean and Marcan records of Jesus’ appearance before the Sanhedrin that he was accused of blasphemy and on that account judged to be liable to death (Mt. 26:63–66; Mk. 14:61–64). Since this charge of blasphemy is evoked by Jesus’ acknowledgment of his divine sonship, and by his immediate interpretation of that sonship as involving rule at God’s right hand and an appearance with theophanic glory, it would seem impossible to construe the record so as to support the theory that the charge against Jesus was fundamentally political rather than religious. As a matter of fact we cannot regard Zeitlin’s discussion as having actually faced this issue in any adequate fashion. His argument is to the effect that the facts do not agree with the presupposition that the body before which Jesus appeared was the official Jewish Sanhedrin. These alleged facts are two in number: (1) the language of Jesus was, he contends, not strictly a cursing of God but merely abusive language, which under Tannaitic regulations was not subject to the death penalty, and (2) the official Sanhedrin could have carried out the death sentence. Hence, it is argued, the offense could not have been a religious offense properly speaking, and the court must have been the political sanhedrin which did not possess the prerogative of carrying out the death sentence (pp. 152ff.). Our answer is simply that if the regulations of the Mishna, understood in this fashion, are taken as decisive for the procedure at the time of Christ, we had better reject the New Testament account as unhistorical rather than invent the explanation that, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, the charge of blasphemy was understood in a political sense.

Although then Zeitlin seems to interpret the charge of blasphemy as not constituting a religious offense, there is one point in his discussion where the confession of Jesus before the sanhedrin is judged to bear a religious aspect (p. 164). Here it is maintained that the entire assembly is viewed as judging that one who spoke such abusive language against God was obviously a person of no special worth or importance, and, considering the danger that Pilate might punish the Jewish people as a whole because of the claims of Jesus to be the king of the Jews, they accordingly felt no compunctions of conscience in delivering such a person to Pilate as a rebel who was worthy of death. The implication seems to be that if Jesus had not spoken as he did, there might have been some hesitation on their part in making him a scapegoat in order to free themselves of suspicion. Considered in that fashion the issue remains, according to Zeitlin, essentially political, from the point of view of the sanhedrin as from Pilate’s, and the religious aspect is completely subordinate. As a political sanhedrin they had no jurisdiction over religious matters, and hence could not have sought to condemn him on religious grounds. We cannot regard this reconstruction as borne out by the evidence. The subordination of the religious charge to the political is not derived from the accounts of the appearance of Jesus before the Jewish authorities, for there the main point is precisely that at last the Jewish judges discovered a religious ground for his condemnation to death.

The extremities to which Zeitlin must go in seeking to carry out consistently this thesis that the charge against Jesus was essentially non-religious are further displayed in connection with his discussion of the condemnation of Stephen as a blasphemer (pp. 188ff.). Strange to relate, the trial of Stephen is held to have been for a purely religious offense, the charge being that “he spoke words of blasphemy (abusive language) against God and Moses” (p. 189). On the basis of this conclusion, and because of the statement of Acts 6:12 that “they brought him into the sanhedrin” (that is, one that did not have to be assembled), he affirms that the trial judicatory must have been the official, or “religious”, Sanhedrin (p. 190). Wherein then does the charge against Stephen appear to be religious whereas that against Jesus is considered political? The charge against Stephen was that in his testimony to Jesus he had spoken blasphemous words against Moses and against God (Acts 6:11ff.) and apparently it was his testimony that he saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God (Acts 7:55f.), which confirmed their judgment that he was a deceiver and a blasphemer. Obviously his offense was religious. But was not the conflict between Jesus and the Jewish leaders, including Pharisees as well as Sadducees, precisely that he spoke “as having authority and not as the scribes”, that is, as possessing the right to declare authoritatively the will of God, and that he set aside the traditions of the elders? And did he not at the trial, in acknowledging his Messiahship, speak of his person in a way that evoked the charge of blasphemy? On this question Zeitlin is not completely silent. He says:

“There is a vast difference between the words of Jesus and the statement of Stephen. Jesus made a prediction while Stephen made a statement that he saw the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God; that is, he considered Jesus the founder of a new religion” (p. 191).

Can one seriously propose that the formal difference between a prediction and a statement is of sufficient weight to establish a qualitative difference between the Jewish conceptions of the offense of Jesus and of that of Stephen? So far as the reference to the session at God’s right hand and the coming with theophanic glory is concerned, Zeitlin admits that both as spoken by Jesus and as affirmed by Stephen they were held to establish the proof of the commission of blasphemy. In our opinion, on the assumption that Jesus had no right to make such transcendent claims of superhuman dignity, the blasphemy involved in ascribing such glory to one who no longer lived among men was far less evident than in the instance of one who claimed for himself such authority and dignity that his Jewish judges would be compelled to recognize his transcendent power and glory. As we have observed above, the religious differences between Jesus and the Jewish leaders were so profound that, even though the break with Judaism had not been consummated, there must have been an awareness that the acknowledgement of the claims of Jesus involved a fundamentally different view of religion from that represented by current Judaism.

In concluding our discussion of the religious aspects of the conflict between Jesus and the leaders of Judaism, we may profitably observe that the evangelists at no point disclose any awareness of the participation of any other assembly than the official Jewish Sanhedrin in the trial of Jesus. Matthew and Mark describe the trial court as consisting of “the high priests and the whole sanhedrin” (Mt. 26:59; Mk. 14:55; 15:1). Zeitlin indeed makes ingenious use of the Lucan phrase “their sanhedrin” (Lk. 22:66) as an argument for his thesis that the trial sanhedrin was constituted of persons who were merely “rubber stamps” of the high priest. He declares: “This was his Sanhedrin, as the Gospel of Luke states clearly, ‘And the scribes assembled and led him into their Sanhedrin’” (pp. 163f.). If the Lucan passage actually stated that the sanhedrin was “his”, that is, the high priest’s, it would seem to suggest that in some special sense the high priest could claim it as his own. Since however the text reads “their” rather than “his”, the claim made on the basis of Luke’s declaration is astonishing.

As a matter of fact the more closely Luke 22:66 is scrutinized, the less support it actually offers for the theory that the trial court was a special political tribunal. What Luke actually says is this: καὶ ὡς ἐγένετο ἡμέρα, συνήχθη τὸ πρεσβυτέριον τοῦ λαοῦ, ἀρχιερεῖς τε καὶ γραμματεῖς, καὶ ἀπήγαγον αὐτὸν εἰς τὸ συνέδριον αὐτῶν.. .. In order to construe the meaning of “their sanhedrin” correctly, it is necessary to examine the implications of the antecedent language. A comparison of the phrase τὸ πρεσβυτέριον τοῦ λαοῦ with πᾶν τὸ πρεσβυτέριον in Acts 22:5, as well as with πᾶν τὸ συνέδριον in Acts 22:30, will show that this phrase is Luke’s designation of the Sanhedrin, which he says gathered together as soon as it was day. That he mentions the chief priests and scribes as constituting its membership, but does not mention “the elders” (οἱ πρεσβύτεροι), is apparently due simply to the fact that he has already characterized the assembly as “the presbyterion”. That the “elders” are not meant to be excluded receives confirmation from the manner in which Luke at other points includes them among those who rejected Jesus (Lk. 9:22; 22:52). In view of these considerations, the final clause must be understood as meaning that, the presbyterion having come together, Jesus was led “into their assembly”, the word συνέδριον being employed here in a non-technical sense. The expression “their assembly” implies then that it was the assembly of the entire company of the members of the Sanhedrin. It may be observed therefore that Lk. 22:66 not only offers no particular support of the theory that the sanhedrin in some special sense was dominated by the high priest, but it also presents positive evidence that the sanhedrin which tried Jesus was not a special political court of the kind that Zeitlin contends for. Such a political body of Quislings could never have been described as “the presbyterion of the people”.[15]

When the thesis of the work we have been examining is tested by the pertinent evidence, we are convinced that it falls far short of being established. We wish to add, however, that the recognition that the official Jewish Sanhedrin condemned Jesus and secured his crucifixion at the hands of Pontius Pilate by no means provides a tenable basis for anti-Semitism. The popular and official repudiation of Jesus’ claims by the Jewish people as a whole, and the resultant visitation of a divine judgment upon them, never carried with it the implication, according to the New Testament, that the Jewish people might with impunity be made the objects of hatred and persecution. On the contrary, there is everywhere the insistence that the divine plan required the missionaries to preach “to the Jews first”. The deep yearning of the apostle Paul for the salvation of his Jewish compatriots is eloquent on this subject. The repudiation of anti-Semitism does not depend upon a radical revision of the New Testament. There is a far deeper guarantee in Christianity of the rights of the Jew than any revision of one’s estimate of the actual course of the events connected with the death of Jesus could provide.

Notes

1. Solomon Zeitlin: Who Crucified Jesus? New York and London: Harper & Brothers. 1942. xv, 240. $2.50.
2. Ant. XV, 6:2 (173); ed. Niese, III, p. 290.
3. Ant. XV, 7:4 (229); Niese, III, p. 298.
4. Bel. Iud. I, 27:1, 2 (537ff.); Niese, VI, pp. 95f.
5. Bel. Iud. I, 29:2 (571); Niese, VI, p. 102.
6. Ant. XX, 9:6 (216ff.); Niese, IV, p. 263.
7. Ant. XX, 9:1 (197ff.); Niese, IV, pp. 260f.
8. Bel. Iud. IV, 5:4 (334ff.); Niese, VI, pp. 294f.
9. Attention may be directed to the fact that Zeitlin finds confirmation of his conclusion as to the existence of a separate political sanhedrin not only from the record of the trial of Jesus in the gospels, but also from the records in Acts of the trials of Peter and Paul (pp. 180ff.). His claim is that “Peter and Paul were tried by a political Sanhedrin for a political offense against the Romans in the same manner as Jesus; and they, like Jesus, were executed by the Romans” (p. 180). In the case of Peter the chief evidence relied upon to establish the political character of the court is that he was a political offender. This conclusion is based, first of all, upon the consideration that Peter was arrested “for teaching that Jesus arose after his death and was made by God the ruler of the Jews” (p. 184). Perhaps this statement has in view Acts 5:31 where Peter speaks of Jesus as the exalted “Prince and Saviour”, in addition to Acts 4:2 where the reason given for his arrest is that “he proclaimed in Jesus the resurrection from the dead”. Zeitlin contends that it could not have been a religious offense to maintain that Jesus had been raised from the dead, and that therefore “Peter could only have been tried for associating himself with Jesus who claimed to be the King of the Jews” (p. 184). But this is to ignore the plain implications of the entire context that the issue was religious. Zeitlin makes Christianity essentially a political movement at the beginning, as is indicated by his remarks on page 188 that “In due time the followers of Jesus became a religious group. The political aspect of Jesus, as a Messiah who claimed to be the King of the Jews, became less conspicuous”. There is not a particle of evidence that Jesus ever interpreted his messianic claims as having political meaning, or that the community which acknowledged him as the Messiah conceived of itself as the Kingdom of the Jews, at least not in a worldly sense. A second consideration calculated to demonstrate that Peter was a political offender is the fact that Gamaliel appeals to the history of the rebels Theudas and Judas (Acts 5:36f.; pp. 187f.). But this is to miss the whole point of the argument, which is that “if this work be of men, it will be overthrown; but if it is of God, ye will not be able to overthrow them, lest perchance ye be found fighting against God” (Acts 5:38f.). His discussion of the trial of Paul likewise at many points fails to grasp the fundamental and decisive religious issue which led to the opposition of the Jewish leaders to Paul. One example of his interpretation of the evidence must suffice here. The fact that, according to Acts 23:6, the sanhedrin before which Paul was brought consisted of both Sadducees and Pharisees is said to prove “undoubtedly that the Sanhedrin was not a religious body, but a political Sanhedrin, and that Paul was brought before it for a political offense. It would be unthinkable to assume that a religious court would consist of Sadducees and Pharisees, since their beliefs were so diametrically opposed to each other, for what would appear to the Pharisees a religious offense would not be so considered by the Sadducees. .. But if we assume that Paul was brought before a political Sanhedrin. .. we can understand why its members consisted of Sadducees and Pharisees. It was quite proper for the head of a nation to convene citizens of different religious beliefs for the purpose of trying a man for a state offense” (p. 199). This argument is certainly extraordinary if one recalls Zeitlin’s admission on page 75 that Sadducees sometimes became members of the official sanhedrin but were required to render decisions according to the Pharisaic interpretations. Nor is there any evidence that the sanhedrin was specially constituted by the representative of the Roman government. According to Acts 22:30 the chief captain “commanded the chief priests and all the sanhedrin to come together” in order that he might discover the nature of the accusation of the Jews against Paul, their opposition to Paul being inferred not from any charge of political infidelity, but from the tumult in the temple (cf. 23:26–30).
10. His judgment that the synoptic gospels were written exclusively for Jewish Christians, and John for Gentile Christians, is clearly not established (pp. 107ff.). In connection with his view of early Christianity as consisting of two distinct groups, Jewish and Gentile Christian (pp. 194f.), these conclusions as to the gospels are made the basis of far-reaching judgments concerning their testimony (e.g., pp. 140ff.).
11. Judas is made to side with Paul against the other disciples! “We may add that the Gospel of John states that the disciples of Jesus wanted to make him king while Jesus was still in Galilee. Paul did not eliminate Judas from the twelve apostles. In his letter to the Corinthians, he still speaks of the twelve. It is indeed strange that Paul should still include Judas, the so-called betrayer, among the twelve. But we must not overlook the fact that Paul never regarded Jesus as the ‘King of the Jews’. To Paul Jesus was the Son of God” (pp. 162f.). Passing over the allegations as to Paul’s attitude towards Judas as too absurd to require refutation, we may point out that John 6:15 does not state or imply that the eleven wanted to make Jesus king, but that the people did, and this became the occasion of Jesus’ withdrawal from the crowds and of intimate contacts with the inner circle.
12. The Pharisees are specifically associated with the action against Jesus in Mt. 27:62 and Jn. 11:47, 57; 18:3, and must be chiefly in mind when repeated reference is made to the actions in which “the elders” participated.
13. Strack-Billerbeck, Kommentar zum N. T., II, pp. 815-827; Dalman, Jesus-Jeshua, E. T., pp. 98-106.
14. Cf. Mk. 7:6ff. and Mt. 15:7 where, quoting Isa. 29:13, our Lord condemns as hypocritical and vain the worship of God which is accompanied by a setting aside of his commandments. The instances in Mt. 23:13ff. and Lk. 13:15 are similar in import. In Mt. 22:18 and Mk. 12:15 Jesus accuses them of hypocrisy because they came with hostile purpose, in order to ensnare him, and yet addressed him as a Teacher who was true and taught the way of God. Cf. Lk. 12:1.
15. It may be recalled also that Zeitlin maintains as a criterion for distinguishing a political sanhedrin that it had to be specially summoned while the official sanhedrin is represented as being in regular session five days a week. In this case the theory would break down, for here certainly there is no implication that the sanhedrin was constituted and convened for this occasion. They convened when it became day.