Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth (41 page)

Geza Vermes demonstrates that
bar enasha
is never a title in any Aramaic sources; “The Son of Man Debate,”
Journal for the Study of the New Testament
1 (1978): 19–32. It should be mentioned that Vermes is among a handful of scholars
who believe that “Son of Man” in its Aramaic expression is just a circumlocution for
“I”—an indirect and deferential way to refer to oneself, as in when Jesus says, “Foxes
have holes and birds of the air have nests but the Son of Man has [that is,
I have
] no place to lay his [
my
] head” (Matthew 8:20 | Luke 9:58). See also P. Maurice Casey,
Son of Man: The Interpretation and Influence of Daniel 7
(London: SPCK Publishing, 1979). But as Burkett notes, the basic problem with the
circumlocution theory is that “the idiom requires a demonstrative pronoun (‘this man’)
which the gospel expression lacks.”
The Son of Man Debate
, 96. Others take the opposite tack, claiming that “Son of Man” does not refer to
Jesus at all but to some other figure, someone Jesus expected would follow him. “When
the Son of Man comes in his glory, and the holy angels with him, he shall sit upon
the throne of his glory” (Matthew 25:31). Prominent proponents of the theory that
Jesus was referring to someone else as the Son of Man include Julius Wellhausen and
Rudolf Bultmann. However, that, too, is unlikely; the context of most of Jesus’s Son
of Man sayings makes it clear that he is speaking about himself, as when he compares
himself to John the Baptist: “John came neither eating nor drinking and they say,
‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man [i.e., I] came eating and drinking and they say ‘Look!
A glutton and drunk’ ” (Matthew 11:18–19 | Luke 7:33–34). Among those who believe
that “the Son of Man” is an Aramaic idiomatic expression meaning either “a man” in
general, or more specifically “a
man like me,” are Barnabas Lindars,
Jesus Son of Man
, and Reginald Fuller, “The Son of Man: A Reconsideration,”
The Living Texts: Essays in Honor of Ernest W. Saunders
, ed. Dennis E. Groh and Robert Jewett (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America,
1985), 207–17. These scholars note that God addresses the prophet Ezekiel as
ben adam
, meaning a human being but perhaps implying an ideal human. For the lack of unified
conception among the Jews of the Son of Man, see Norman Perrin, “Son of Man,”
Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible
(Nashville: Abingdon, 1976), 833–36, and Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Influence of
Daniel on the New Testament,”
Daniel
, ed. John J. Collins (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 90–123.

Although the “one like a son of man” is never identified as the messiah, it seems
that the Jewish scholars and rabbis of the first century understood him as such. Whether
Jesus also understood Daniel’s “one like a son of man” to be a messianic figure is
unclear. Not all scholars believe that Daniel is referring to a distinct personality
or a specific individual when he uses the phrase “son of man.” He may be using the
term as a symbol for Israel as victorious over its enemies. The same is true of Ezekiel,
where “son of man” may be not a distinct individual named Ezekiel but a symbolic representative
of the ideal man. In fact, Maurice Casey thinks even the “son of man” in
Enoch
is not a distinct individual but simply a generic “man”; see “The Use of the Term
‘Son of Man’ in the Similitudes of Enoch,”
Journal for the Study of Judaism
7.1 (1976): 11–29. I do not disagree with this position, but I do think there is
a significant difference between the way the generic term is used in, say, Jeremiah
51:43—“Her cities have become an object of horror, and a land of drought and a desert,
a land in which no man lives, nor any son of man [
ben adam
] passes”—and the way it is used in Daniel 7:13 to refer to a singular figure.

Both Enoch and 4 Ezra explicitly identify the son of man figure with the messiah,
but in 4 Ezra he is also called “my son” by God: “For my son the messiah shall be
revealed with those who are with him, and those who remain shall rejoice four hundred
years. And after these years my son the Messiah shall die, and all who draw human
breath” (4 Ezra 7:28–29). There’s no question that 4 Ezra was written at the end of
the first century, or perhaps the beginning of the second century
C.E
. However there has long been a debate over the dating of the
Similitudes
. Because no copies of the
Similitudes
were found among the many copies of Enoch found at Qumran, most scholars are convinced
that it was not written until well after the destruction of the Temple in 70
C.E
. See Matthew Black,
The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch: A New English Edition with Commentary and Textual Notes
(Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 1985). See also David Suter, “Weighed in the Balance:
The Similitudes of Enoch in Recent Discussion,”
Religious Studies Review
7 (1981): 217–21, and J. C. Hindly, “Towards a Date for the Similitudes of Enoch:
A Historical Approach,”
New Testament Studies
14 (1967–68): 551–65.
Hindly offers a date between 115 and 135
C.E
. for the
Similitudes
, which is a bit late, in my opinion. For better or worse, the best date we can give
for the
Similitudes
is sometime after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70
C.E
., but before the composition of the gospel of Matthew in around 90
C.E
.

On the parallels between the Enoch Son of Man and the gospel Son of Man in the material
that is unique to Matthew, see Burkett,
The Son of Man Debate
, 78; see also John J. Collins, “The Heavenly Representative: The ‘Son of Man’ in
the Similitudes of Enoch,” in
Ideal Figures in Ancient Judaism: Profiles and Paradigms
, ed. John J. Collins and George Nickelsburg (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1980),
111–33. On the Son of Man as a preexistent heavenly being in the fourth gospel, see
Delbert Burkett,
The Son of the Man in the Gospel of John
(Sheffield, U.K.: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991) and R. G. Hamerton-Kelly,
Pre-Existence, Wisdom, and the Son of Man
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973). It should be noted that neither in
the
Similitudes
nor in 4 Ezra is “Son of Man” used as a title, certainly not the way Jesus uses it.

Jesus standing before Caiaphas quotes not only Daniel 7:13 but also Psalms 110:1 (“The
Lord says to my lord, ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool’ ”).
The integration of Daniel 7:13 and Psalms 110:1 in Jesus’s reply to the high priest
may at first seem somewhat disjointed. But according to T. F. Glasson, Jesus is making
a natural connection. Glasson notes that in Daniel, the coming of the Son of Man “with
the clouds of heaven” symbolizes the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth.
Thus, once Jesus is exalted to the right hand of God, the kingdom he preached in 1:15
will emerge as the “new community of the saints.” According to Glasson, the reference
to the Psalms demonstrates Jesus’s personal exaltation, while the reference to Daniel
indicates the inauguration of the kingdom on earth—an event that must begin with his
death and resurrection. This idea is quite in league with Jesus’s threefold interpretation
of the Son of Man. In other words, Glasson believes that this is the moment when the
two titles, messiah and Son of Man, come together for Jesus. See Thomas Francis Glasson,
“Reply to Caiaphas (Mark 14:62),”
New Testament Studies
7 (1960): 88–93. Mary Ann L. Beavis notes the parallels between the story of Jesus
before Caiaphas and the previous confession made by Peter. Both scenes begin with
a question of Jesus’s identity (8:27, 14:60), and both end with a Son of Man discourse.
Furthermore, in both instances Jesus’s reinterpretation of the messianic title is
met with a resounding condemnation (8:32–33, 14:63–65); see Mary Ann L. Beavis, “The
Trial Before the Sanhedrin (Mark 14:53–65): Reader Response and Greco-Roman Readers,”
Catholic Biblical Quarterly
49 (1987): 581–96.

As tempting as it may be to dismiss the betrayal of Judas Iscariot as nothing more
than a narrative embellishment, the fact is that it is a detail attested to by all
four gospel writers, though each presents a different reasoning for his betrayal.

Mark and Matthew make it clear that “the crowd” had been expressly sent by the Sanhedrin,
and Luke adds the presence of the Temple captains to the arresting party to make the
point clearer. Only the gospel of John indicates the presence of Roman troops in the
arresting party. That is highly unlikely, as no Roman soldier would seize a criminal
and deliver him to the Sanhedrin unless he was ordered to do so by his prefect, and
there is no reason to think that Pilate became involved in Jesus’s situation until
Jesus was brought before him. Although Mark seems to suggest that the one wielding
the sword was not a disciple but “a certain one of those standing by” (Mark 14:47),
the rest of the gospels make it clear that this was indeed a disciple who cut off
the servant’s ear. In fact, John identifies the sword-wielding disciple as Simon Peter
(John 18:8–11). Luke’s discomfort with a Jesus who seems to resist arrest is ameliorated
by his insistence that Jesus stopped the melee and healed the poor servant’s ear before
allowing himself to be taken away (Luke 22:49–53). That said, it is Luke who specifically
claims that the disciples were commanded by Jesus to bring
two
swords to Gethsemane (Luke 22:35–38).

On Eusebius, see Pamphili Eusebius,
Ecclesiastical History
III.3, quoted in George R. Edwards,
Jesus and the Politics of Violence
(New York: Harper and Row, 1972), 31. Eusebius’s account has been challenged by some
contemporary scholars including L. Michael White,
From Jesus to Christianity
(New York: HarperOne, 2004), 230.

Raymond Brown outlines the argument for a set of pregospel passion narratives in his
encyclopedic two-volume work
The Death of the Messiah
(New York: Doubleday, 1994), 53–93. Contra Brown is the so-called Perrin School,
which rejects the notion of a pre-Markan passion narrative and claims that the narrative
of the trial and crucifixion was shaped by Mark and adapted by all the canonized gospels,
including John. See
The Passion in Mark: Studies on Mark 14-16
, ed. W. H. Kelber (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976).

For the use of crucifixion among the Jews, see Ernst Bammel, “Crucifixion as a Punishment
in Palestine,”
The Trial of Jesus
, ed. Ernst Bammel (Naperville, Ill.: Alec R. Allenson, 1970), 162–65. Josef Blinzler
notes that by Roman times there was some sense of uniformity in the process of crucifixion,
especially when it came to the nailing of the hands and feet to a crossbeam. There
was usually a flogging beforehand, and at least among the Romans it was expected that
the criminal would carry his own cross to the site of the crucifixion. See Blinzler,
The Trial of Jesus
(Westminster, Md.: Newman Press, 1959).

Josephus notes that the Jews who tried to escape Jerusalem as it was besieged by Titus
were first executed, then crucified;
The Jewish War
5.449–51. Martin Hengel writes that although crucifixion was a punishment reserved
for non-Roman citizens, there were instances of Roman citizens being crucified. But
these were deliberately done in response to crimes that were deemed treasonous. In
other words, by giving the citizen a “slave’s punishment,” the message was that the
crime was so severe that it forfeited the criminal’s Roman citizenship. See Hengel,
Crucifixion in the Ancient World and the Folly of the Message of the Cross
(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977), 39–45. Cicero’s quote is from Hengel, 37. See
also J. W. Hewitt, “The Use of Nails in the Crucifixion,”
Harvard Theological Review
25 (1932): 29–45.

Regarding Jesus’s trial before Caiaphas in the gospels, Matthew and Mark claim that
Jesus was brought to the courtyard (
aule
) of the high priest and not to the Sanhedrin. Unlike Mark, Matthew specifically names
the high priest Caiaphas. John claims that Jesus was first taken to the previous high
priest, Ananus, before being transferred to Ananus’s son-in-law and the present high
priest, Caiaphas. It is interesting to note that Mark treats as false the claim that
Jesus will bring down the Temple and build another without human hands. As Matthew,
Luke-Acts, and John make clear, that is precisely what Jesus threatened to do (Matthew
26:59–61; Acts 6:13–14; John 2:19). In fact, a version of that very statement can
be found in the Gospel of Thomas: “I shall destroy this house, and no one will be
able to rebuild it.” Even Mark puts Jesus’s threat into the mouths of the passersby
who mock him on the cross. If the statement were false, as Mark contends, where would
the passersby have heard it? From the closed night session of the Sanhedrin? Unlikely.
Indeed, such a statement seems to have been part of the post–70
C.E
. Christological foundation of the Church, which considered the Christian community
to be the “temple made not with human hands.” There can be no doubt that whatever
Jesus’s actual words may have been, he had in fact threatened the Temple in some way.
Mark himself attests to this: “Do you see these buildings? Not one stone will be left
upon another; all will be thrown down” (Mark 13:2). For more on Jesus’s threats to
the Temple, see Richard Horsley,
Jesus and the Spiral of Violence
, 292–96. With all this in mind, Mark’s apologetic overlay in the trial before the
Sanhedrin comes across as a ridiculously contrived attempt to show the injustice of
those who made accusations against Jesus, regardless of whether those accusations
were true, which in this case they most certainly were.

Raymond Brown lists twenty-seven discrepancies between the trial of Jesus before the
Sanhedrin and later rabbinic procedure;
Death of the Messiah
, 358–59. D. R. Catchpole examines the argument against the historicity of the trial
in “The Historicity of the Sanhedrin Trial,”
Trial of Jesus
, 47–65. That nocturnal
trials were, at the very least, unusual is demonstrated by Acts 4:3–5, in which Peter
and John are arrested at night but must wait until daylight to be judged before the
Sanhedrin. Luke, who wrote that passage in Acts, tries to fix his fellow evangelists’
blunder by arguing for two Sanhedrin meetings: one on the night Jesus was arrested
and another “when day came.” In Acts 12:1–4, Peter is arrested during Passover but
not brought before the people for judgment until after the feast is over, though Solomon
Zeitlin takes exception to the idea that the Sanhedrin could not meet on the eve of
the Sabbath; Zeitlin,
Who Crucified Jesus?
(New York: Bloch, 1964). One could argue here for John’s sequence of events, wherein
the Sanhedrin met days before arresting Jesus, but considering that in John, Jesus’s
triumphal entry into Jerusalem and his cleansing of the Temple, which all scholars
agree was the impetus for his arrest, were among the first acts of his ministry, John’s
logic falls apart.