Did
Pilate
Lesson”?
“Learn
His
I think there is almost no historical figure that Craig and I
disagree on more than the Roman governor of Judea at the time
of Jesus’ death, Pontius Pilate.
I see him as a cruel,
vicious, hard-headed, insensitive, and brutal ruler; Craig
portrays him as an efficient but wise and rather sensitive
aristocrat who could learn from his lessons and who would go
out of his way not to offend Jewish sensibilities.
A lot
hangs on which view (if either) is right, since it was Pilate
– we agree on this! – who ordered Jesus’ crucifixion.
Moreover, if Jesus was given a decent burial (Craig’s view) or
was left to hang on the cross for some time in accordance with
standard Roman practice (my view), it was, in either case,
Pilate’s decision.
Craig’s view is that Pilate’s sensitive decision not to allow
crucified victims to hang on their crosses after their deaths
is what allowed him to keep “the nation at peace” (the phrase
comes from the Jewish historian Josephus, whom I will be
dealing with in later posts). My view is that the reason the
nation was kept “at peace” was precisely because governors
like Pilate showed with graphic brutality what would happen to
anyone who revolted or threatened to revolt; crucifixion and
the humilities suffered post mortem were an effective
deterrent for revolt, for most of the Roman period.
But what kind of person was Pilate? Craig refers to a passage
in Josephus, Book 18 of the Antiquities, where Pilate, on
assuming rule of Judea, brought Roman standards bearing an
image of the emperor into Jerusalem, thereby offending the
Jews who were resident there, who maintained that since holy
city was holy to God, there were to be no “images” there.
According to Craig’s discussion, the Jews protested, Pilate
realized he had made a mistake and backed down, and that was
the end of the story.
Craig emphasizes that this account
shows that previous governors had not brought standards into
town – showing their basic sensitivities to Jewish customs and
laws – and that once Pilate saw that he had made an error he
“quickly” (his word) gave way.
As Craig summarizes the event:
“Pilate either did not
understand Jewish law and custom and so acted in ignorance, or
he did, thinking he could force on his Jewish subjects his
allegiance to the emperor. In either case, he quickly learned
how loyal the Jews were to their law and wisely backed down.
For Craig, this “wise” decision affected the rest of Pilate’s
rule in Judea. Jewish customs were not to be breached. And
so, Craig “find[s] it hard to believe,” that once Pilate
learned his lesson about Jewish determination to follow their
customs, that he would later allow crucified criminals to
remain on their crosses in violation of Jewish sensibilities.
I have a very different read of Pilate in general, of this
incident of the standards in particular, and of its effect on
Pilate’s behavior subsequently.
First I’ll talk about this
incident.
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Did Pontius Pilate Respect
Jewish Sensitivities?
When I was in high school I was active on the debate team, and
really loved it. We were pretty good, although I was nowhere
near being the best on the team. My colleague and another
fellow on the team ended up debating together in college and
won the national championship as sophomores.
terrific.
These guys were
One of the decisions we constantly had to make when arguing
the negative side of a resolution was how to go about
attacking the claims of the affirmative side. There were two
general approaches: one was what we called the “shotgun”
approach. This involved leveling lots and lots of arguments
(like buckshot) and hoping that the other side could not
respond to them all, thereby making the judge of the debate
think that some of the arguments stuck, even if not all of
them were that good. The problem with the shotgun approach
was that if a bunch of the arguments weren’t very good, the
affirmative side could knock them down fairly easily, and by
the end, it looked like just about everything they said showed
that our arguments weren’t very good.
And so we usually opted to take the other approach, which was
to develop two or three arguments at length that were very
difficult indeed to refute.
If the affirmative side couldn’t
win, say, two of the three arguments (as opposed to
successfully answering 10), then the debate was in the bag for
us.
Another way of looking at this is to say that a cumulative
argument – lots of little arguments adding up to one big
argument — can be seen as an effective mode of refutation, but
ONLY if each one of the little arguments itself carries
weight.
If each of the little arguments don’t carry any
weight at all, then the cumulative effect also doesn’t carry
weight.
You can accumulate all the zeros you want, and
they’ll still add up to zero.
If I had been Craig and wanted to attack the views that I set
forth in How Jesus Became God, I think I would not have taken
the shotgun approach.
The accumulation of arguments that
individually don’t carry much weight just ends of not being
very convincing. My view is that most of his arguments really
don’t carry any weight – the “evidence” from Philo, the
“evidence” that Roman governors sometimes showed clemency to
convicted criminals, the claim that Romans allowed executed
criminals decent burial, and – the evidence I’ll cite now.
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Discrepancies That Pay Rich
Dividends
This will be the last post in the hiatus I have been taking
from responding to Craig Evans’s critique of my view of Jesus’
burial. I had thought this hiatus would be one, maybe two
posts; but as often happens on this blog, once I get going on
something I realize that I have to say more — or else what
little I have to say will not make much sense. So my couple
of posts have turned into four, all on the question of whether
the historical-critical approach that I take to the Gospels is
“trashing them,” as a lot of people seem to think, or if,
instead, it is a valuable tool for understanding what these
books really are – literary attempts to teach important
theological lessons about Jesus based on stories about his
life – rather than what they are not – historically accurate,
objective biographies of the things that Jesus said and did.
In the last post I argued that the two portrayals of Jesus
going to his death in Mark and Luke are radically different,
and that recognizing this radical difference is of utmost
importance for understanding what each author is trying to
say.
The in-shock, silent Jesus of Mark, who is betrayed,
denied, abandoned, and mocked by everyone, who wonders at the
very end why God himself has forsaken him, simply is not the
same as the calm confident Jesus of Luke, who knows God is on
his side, who understands what is happening to him, and who
knows what will happen to him after it happens to him: he will
wake up in paradise.
A deeper understanding of each Gospel seeks to understand the
portrayal of Jesus found in each and every one of the Gospels,
but also asks what each account is actually trying to *teach*
by making that kind of portrayal. This is where matters get
more speculative, and this is where both theology and
preaching start getting interesting. I realize (oh so well)
that I am no longer theologically driven or involved with
preaching, but to conclude this hiatus-of-a-thread, I do have
to say what I think each account is trying to say.
Let’s imagine – it’s not much of a stretch of the imagination,
actually, even though there is not concrete evidence behind it
– let’s imagine that each of these Gospels is written to
Christians who are experiencing real suffering in their
lives. Possibly it is a difficult persecution. Possibly it
is the animosity of friends and family and neighbors and coworkers and everyone else who is opposed to their new-found
faith in Jesus.
Or possibly it is hardship in the world that
seems unbearable.
Suppose both Mark and Luke, writing at
different times (say 15 years apart) in different parts of the
world, are both confronted with some such situations.
Why
would they portray Jesus going to his death the way they do?
Here’s what I think.
You’re welcome to think something else!
Mark’s Jesus…
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Why the Critical View of the
Gospels
Matters
Theologically/Religiously
In my two previous posts I’ve been trying to explain that the
historical-critical view of the Gospels, in which they are
recognized not always to represent historically accurate
information about Jesus, is not necessarily a view that
“trashes” them.
Instead, it is a view that tries to
understand what they really are instead of insisting that they
are something else.
Accepting them for what they are is
surely a good thing; making them into something they are not
can’t be good.
In this post I want to do something highly unusual for me. I
want to explain, for those of your who are Christians (or for
anyone else who is interested), why this critical view of the
Gospels is in fact *theologically* valuable, far more
theologically value than a view that would insist that the
Gospels have no discrepancies between them or errors of any
kind, but are historically accurate accounts of what happened
in the life of Jesus.
When I was a Christian, once I came to the conclusion that
the Gospels in fact are full of contradictions and
discrepancies and historical inaccuracies– after many years of
research – I also came to realize that this understanding was
remarkably fruitful from a theological point of view.
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Ancient Forerunners of Modern
Gospel Critics
In my previous post I argued that critical scholars who insist
that the Gospels are not historically accurate accounts of
what happened in the life of Jesus – even though they do
contain some historically accurate information, which needs to
be carefully and cautiously ferretted out of their narratives
– are not trashing the Gospels. They are trashing unfounded
fundamentalist assumptions about the Gospels. In this post
I’d like to argue that this view — that the Gospels are not
sacrosanct-historically-accurate-to-the-very-detail accounts
of what really happened in the life of Jesus — is not merely a
modern notion that emerged during the Enlightenment. It is
that, to be sure; but it’s not merely that.
In fact, I would
argue that this is the earliest attested view of the Gospels
from earliest Christianity.
Let’s assume for this argument a view that most scholars hold
and that I could demonstrate if I wanted to spend a lot of
time doing so, that Mark was the first of our Gospels and that
Matthew and Luke both had access to Mark.
If that’s what we
think (and it’s what “we,” speaking with the “royal we,” in
fact do think, along with 99% of the biblical scholars on the
planet), then we can ask: did the authors of Matthew and Luke
consider Mark to be in inviolable, sacrosanct, completely
accurate account of what Jesus said and did?
The answer is obvious – so obvious that it’s amazing that it’s
never struck most readers (including most of us! It didn’t
strike me for about ten years after starting to read the
Gospels carefully).
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Why Are
Gospels?
You
Trashing
the
I am going to take a break for three or four days from my
response to Craig Evans’s critique of my view of Jesus’
burial. There are more things that I need to say – and I have
not yet gotten to what I think are his two best arguments.
But my sense is that some people are getting a little tired of
a steady dose of posts on the burial stories, so… I’m going to
break to deal with something else of more general interest.
I have had several people respond to my argument that Jesus
was not really buried by Joseph of Arimathea on the day of his
crucifixion by asking me: Why are you trashing the Gospels?
It’s a fair question, and deserves a fair answer.
The short story is that I’m not intending or trying to trash
the Gospels.
In my view, what I’m doing is showing what the
Gospels really are and what they really are not.
And that is
not a matter of trashing them. It’s a matter of revealing
their true character, rather than foisting a false character
on them.
To be sure, by arguing that the Gospels are not historically
accurate I am contesting and challenging views of the Gospels
that many Christians unreflectively have (and that some
Christian scholars reflectively have). But urging a different
understanding of the Gospels is not the same thing as trashing
them. On the contrary if my views of the Gospels are right,
then I’m illuminating the Gospels and showing both what kinds
of books they are and how they ought to be read.
good, positive thing, not a bad, negative one.
That’s a
I should hasten to add that the views that I have of the
Gospels are not ones that *I* came up with on my own. I’m not
that smart or inventive.
These are and have long been common
views among critical scholars who have committed their lives
to studying the Gospels. I’m not saying that everyone who has
these same basic views agrees with everything I say about the
Gospels. Most Gospel scholars, for example, if asked, would
say that they are reasonably certain that Jesus was given a
decent burial by Joseph of Arimathea. But in *principle* they
would not necessarily be opposed to the alternative view that
I’ve been mapping out. The reality is that – to my knowledge
– no one until now has argued very vociferously or thoroughly
for this view in the way that I am. So I don’t know what most
scholars would say about it. But in principle they wouldn’t
be against it, because of our shared views of the Gospels.
Among other things, these views insist that the Gospels are
not always historically accurate in what they say about
Jesus.
That has been acknowledged by critical scholars of
the New Testament as long as there have been critical scholars
of the New Testament – for over 300 years.
So it’s nothing
new, even though I hear from people nearly every week who tell
me that it’s news to them. It’s news to them because scholars
can be among the worse communicators on earth, and biblical
scholars in particular have done a truly dismal job of telling
non-scholars what they have come to think and what they have
tried to demonstrate in their research – for example about the
accuracy of the Gospels.
Different scholars have different assessments of *just* how
inaccurate the Gospels are. Some think they are reliable in
most of the basics, with lots of details being unreliable;
others think that major stories are not historically accurate
(birth narratives, e.g.); others think that in fact very many
of the stories need to be questioned. But for all of these
scholars there is a basic sense that, at the end of the day,
the Gospels are not dispassionate, accurate accounts of the
things Jesus said and did.
Some things in them are accurate.
Some things are not accurate.
And one of the tasks is to
figure out which is which: which stories actually describe
something that happened (e.g., Jesus’ baptism, his
proclamation of the coming kingdom, his crucifixion) and which
stories describe things that, historically, did not actually
happen (e.g., Jesus’ Temptations in the wilderness or his
Transfiguration or his turning water into wine).
These decisions are not made simply on an ad hoc basis or by
guessing.
They are made by slow, deliberate, conscientious,
rigorous application of historical criteria based on a very
wide range of knowledge of the surviving texts and of lots of
other things (history of Palestine; Roman world; Greek
language; history of early Christianity – and more).
It’s
not a matter of picking and choosing what you like or don’t
like.
But even with stories that are judged to be basically
accurate, one needs to decide what parts of the story are
accurate. Was Jesus baptized? Almost certainly yes. By John
the Baptist?
Yes.
In the Jordan River?
Yes.
At the
beginning of his ministry?
Yes.
Did a dove land on his
head?
Did the heavens split open?
Did a voice come
thundering from heaven? Well, probably not.
I should stress that the views critical scholars have of the
Gospels do not simply involve the question of what is
historically accurate.
There are two other issues that are
equally important.
The first is this: if something is not
accurate, how and why did that story or part of the story come
into existence?
For the dove and voice from heaven at the
baptism, for example: even if those things didn’t happen, they
are there for a reason: they show that at the beginning of
Jesus’ ministry he was declared to be the Son of God—a very
important theological point. But probably not a historical
reality (in terms of what actually happened).
The second thing is closely related to the first: studying the
Gospels is not simply a matter of seeing what really happened
and why the stories came to be altered into the form we now
know them; it is also a matter of literary and theological
interpretation. Whether or not a story “happened” – what does
it *mean*?
What is it saying about Jesus?
What is the
theological or ethical message that is being conveyed? And
for people who are doing this who are Christian – how does or
should this message affect one’s life, one’s beliefs, one’s
activities, one’s ethics, one’s relationships, one’s
understanding of the world, and so forth and so on.
Again, different scholars will have different evaluations of
just how historical this or that story is, and about why this
or that detail was added or omitted or changed, and about what
the story is trying to teach. But all critical scholars will
agree that studying the Gospels involves (at least) these
three basic tasks.
Fundamentalists would say that the first
two tasks involve trashing the Gospels.
I say that the
fundamentalists are wrong about that.
Understanding what the
Gospels really are – stories about Jesus intending to teach
theological lessons rather than historically accurate
narratives – celebrates the Gospels for what they really are,
rather than falsely glorify them for what they are not.
Did Roman Laws Require Decent
Burials?
In my previous post I tried to show why Craig’s argument that
Roman governors on (widely!) isolated occasions showed
clemency to prisoners (those not sentenced to death) has no
relevance to the question of whether Jesus, condemned to
crucifixion for treason against the Roman state, would have
been allowed a decent burial, contrary to Roman practice.
The “clemency” argument – even in the sources that Craig
himself cites, only seems to show that in cases that were
completely unlike that of Jesus himself, Roman governors could
on rare occasions be merciful and/or bribed.
Craig goes on to say that this clemency was extended to the
burial of executed criminals. Now in theory, this should be
relevant to the question of whether Pilate showed mercy on
Jesus by allowing his body to be buried on the day of his
execution. But when you actually look at the evidence, once
again it is not relevant – or rather, as in the other cases,
it actually supports the view that is opposite to the one
Craig wants to argue.
Craig claims “that Roman justice not only allowed for the
executed to be buried, but it even encouraged it in some
instances.”
That sounds promising for his own, traditional,
view (so when I first read this, I was holding my breath!
What did I miss when doing my research?!?). But then comes
the “evidence” that he cites. It is drawn from the summary of
Roman law known as the Digesta.
Craig doesn’t tell his
readers that this is the compilation of legal opinions made
under the emperor Justinian in the sixth century CE – that
is, five hundred years (!) after the death of Jesus. But it
may not matter: the Digest is citing earlier rulings (in this
particular case, a third century author who claims to be
quoting a first century source – again Craig doesn’t tell us
this somewhat complicated history of transmission). And so
there’s a good chance that in fact this ruling did apply in
the first century.
Here’s what the ruling says, as Craig
quotes it:
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Did Roman Authorities Show
Clemency?
In my previous post I began to discuss Craig Evan’s essay
“Getting the Burial Traditions and Evidences Right,” which was
his attempt to show that the views I set forth in How Jesus
Became God were flawed.
In his view, the New Testament
portrayal of Jesus’ burial is almost certainly historical:
Jesus really was buried, in a known tomb, on the afternoon of
his death, immediately after he expired, by Joseph of
Arimathea, a member of the Jewish Sanhedrin who had, the night
before, called for his execution.
My view is that this is
entirely unlikely, that Jesus was probably left on his cross
to suffer the ravages of time and, possibly, scavenging
animals, as was the practice of Romans for crucified victims.
In no instance was this practice more constant than in the
case of “enemies of the state,” anyone, for example, who was
involved in an insurrection or who threatened a violent
opposition to Roman rule (or was thought to have
threatened).
Jesus himself, of course, was executed on just
this charge, of planning to supplant the Roman governorship of
Judea in order to set himself up as king.
In the previous post I dealt with Craig’s discussion of a
passage in Philo – the one text from antiquity that explicitly
indicates that a governor might sometimes show clemency in
allowing a crucified victim to be buried.
completely misconstrues this evidence.
I argued that Craig
Craig goes on to argue that clemency was in fact a Roman
practice more generally. His reason for arguing so is to show
that it is not inconceivable that Pilate would be merciful and
would allow Jesus to be buried, since Roman authorities
frequently, in Craig’s opinion, did show mercy.
In his
words, “the Romans not only permitted the bodies of the
executed, including the crucified, to be buried [Craig never
does show this was a policy or custom – he only has the
quotation from Philo], they even pardoned those in prison and
sometimes even pardoned those awaiting or faced with the
thread of execution, whether by crucifixion or my other
means” (p. 75). Craig refers to this as the “Roman practice
of granting clemency.”
When I read this statement for the first time I expected Craig
to cite some examples of Roman administrators who staid the
execution by crucifixion of criminals – or even just their
execution by any means. Oddly enough, Craig next cites four
instances of clemency –none of them from the days of Jesus and
none of them in the land of Israel – and none of them involves
a person convicted to be executed, let alone crucified, let
alone for committing high treason against the state. So why
does he say…
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So why does he say that Romans regularly forgave those worthy
of execution, even by crucifixion, if he isn’t able to cite
any evidence?
My suspicion is that he’s hoping that we won’t
notice!
Before proceeding, I need to stress again the important
point. If we want to say that Pilate showed clemency to Jesus
by allowing him a decent burial immediately after he died, and
we want to say that this was part of the “Roman practice of
granting clemency,” then the very best evidence would indicate
that Romans regularly allowed criminals who were crucified for
high treason to be buried. Craig doesn’t cite any instances
of this.
That’s because none exist.
The next best thing
would be evidence that Romans allowed criminals crucified for
other reasons to be given decent burials. Again, the only
evidence of this is Philo, which does not show a Roman
*pattern* or “practice” of clemency, but was a specific
instance done for a particular reason – not to show clemency
but to honor the birthday of an emperor. Other than that,
there are no examples for Craig to cite.
Jesus was executed for high treason. Romans executed people
like that by crucifixion and allowed their bodies to decompose
on their crosses to show with absolute clarity and force that
Roman power was not to be crossed.
In cases such as this,
they showed no mercy. I don’t know of any counter-examples.
The examples Craig does provide are not of people who were
executed, let alone crucified, let alone crucified as enemies
of the state. They are of people convicted of lesser crimes
who were let go: there is one man condemned to be scourged in
Egypt in 85 CE; some who were released from prison in 112 CE;
an undated instance of some prisoners set free; and an
instance of prisoners who had their chains removed in the
first century BCE (in Rome? The reference is Pliny).
So here we have four instances spread out over the course of
200 years.
In my view, to say that this shows that it is
probable that Pilate allowed Jesus to be buried is a huge
stretch.
The people to whom clemency were shown were not
just in completely different times and places; they were
guilty of different crimes, they all had other extenuating
circumstances that do not apply to Jesus, and none of them is
said to have been condemned to death, let alone death by
crucifixion, let alone on grounds of being an enemy of the
state.
(And none of them, of course, involves a person
being allowed a decent burial.)
Later (on p. 76) Craig does indicate that there was an
instance of clemency in the land of Israel: some 35 years
after Jesus the governor Albinus, as he was leaving office
(and in order to show what a kind fellow he was?) released
from prison those who were guilty of crimes “other than
murder” (that’s Craig’s phrase; see below) – that is petty
crimes. This is a better example, since it is from Judea –
although it is not in the days of Jesus and does not involve
Pilate (about whom I’ll be saying more in a later post). But
Craig doesn’t actually cite the passage from the Jewish
historian Josephus in which this incident is mentioned. It
makes a difference.
Here it is. Judge its relevance for
yourself:
But when Albinus heard that Gessius Florus was coming to
succeed him, he was desirous to appear to do somewhat
that might be grateful to the people of Jerusalem; so he
brought out all those prisoners who seemed to him to be
most plainly worthy of death, and ordered them to be put
to death accordingly. But as to those who had been put
into prison on some trifling occasions, he took money of
them, and dismissed them; by which means the prisons were
indeed emptied, but the country was filled with robbers.
(Antiquities 20, 215).
So, is this an instance of Roman clemency? Well, yes, to the
petty robbers stuck in prison – whom he released after
receiving bribes (!). But not for anyone who deserved a death
sentence. These he summarily executed.
Romans did not show mercy to people who committed a capital
offense (note: it is not just murderers – it is anyone who
deserved death in his opinion; that could have been any range
of person.)
Even worse than capital offenders, of course,
were enemies of the state. These would not have been left in
prison for a while. They would have been crucified to suffer
a prolonged and unbelievably painful death in the public eye,
humiliated, debased, and tortured for all to see, and then
left to rot on their crosses.
Did
Romans
Burials?
Allow
Decent
Now that I have restated my views about the burial of Jesus by
citing two passages from How Jesus Became God, and emphasized
one particular general point – that it is of utmost importance
to remember why Romans crucified people, and in particular why
they crucified those who were guilty of insurrection, the
threat of insurrection, or high treason (a point that I cannot
stress enough: Jesus was executed for calling himself the King
of the Jews – a political charge of treason against the state)
– I can now begin to summarize the counter-arguments that
Craig Evans has made in his relatively long response, “Getting
the Burial Traditions and Evidences Right.”
Despite this
title, and despite the respect I have for Craig as a scholar,
I have to say that in my judgment he gets virtually all the
evidence(s !) precisely wrong.
He focuses his counter-argument on two of my main points: the
Roman practices of crucifixion and the character of Pontius
Pilate in particular.
I will respond to all of his major
claims – but if anyone wants me to respond to yet anything
else in his essay when I’m done, just let me know and I’ll be
happy to oblige.
When reading Craig’s response, I have to say that I was taken
aback by the fact that he started to counter my views by
quoting a passage from the Jewish philosopher from
Alexandria,Egypt, Philo, in order to show that Romans had a
“practice” (his term) of allowing bodies of crucified people
to be given burials under “various circumstances.”
I was
surprised because this is the very passage that I myself used
in my discussion!
When I cited the passage, I did so
precisely because it is the *one* literary reference we have
in any ancient source to any Roman officials of any kind
showing clemency to crucified victims by allowing them to be
given a decent burial. I cited it for a very specific reason
(which I stated), namely, to show that the *one* exception we
know about has no bearing at all on the case of Jesus.
Craig cites the same passage to argue that “it was in fact
Roman practice , under various circumstances, to permit bodies
of the crucified to be taken down and buried” (How God Became
Jesus, p. 75).
Craig reads the passage to show that
“normally” crucified men were allowed burial in these “various
circumstances” (pp. 74, 75).
I will quote the passage and
then explain why I think this reading of it is completely
wrong, and then you will be able to make up your own mind.
But first I have to say that Craig actually *objects* to my
use of the passage because he thinks it is irrelevant to the
case of Jesus.
Here’s what he says:
“Had Jesus been
crucified in Alexandria, Ehrman’s point would be well taken.
But Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem, in the land of Israel,
where very different political and religious factors were in
play” (p. 75).
Now *this* is an argument I just don’t get. Craig wants to
use the passage to make his point about Roman “practice” but
he does not think that I can use the passage to make my point
about an exception to that practice. And, well, why would the
passage be relevant for his case but not to mine exactly? He
doesn’t say.
But I would argue just the opposite: the passage makes sense
for my point and not for his. And here is why. I cited the
passage because it is the only known *exception* to the rule
that Roman authorities left bodies on the cross rather than
allowing them to be buried (although see below: this is not
actually true either: these people Philo refers to were also
left on their crosses). I don’t cite exceptions in Jerusalem,
in the land of Israel, precisely because there ARE NO KNOWN
EXCEPTIONS in Jersualem in the land of Israel. Well then, if
the passage does not apply to Jerusalem, why does Craig cite
it? For an obvious reason: he wants to say that the situation
in Alexandria, Israel IS applicable to the situation of Jesus,
in Jerusalem, Judea.
But my entire point is that it is NOT applicable.
passage.
Here’s the
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Why Romans Crucified People
I am getting close to the point where I can deal directly with
Craig Evans’ counter-argument to the position that I take in
How Jesus Became God, in which I argue, as you have seen in
two previous posts, that it is likely that Jesus was not given
a decent burial, as described in the Gospel accounts of Joseph
of Arimathea and his request for the body on the afternoon of
the crucifixion. Rather, it is more likely that – as was the
case virtually every other crucified person in all of Roman
antiquity – Jesus’ body was left on the cross for several days
before being tossed into some kind of pit. It sounds bizarre,
but I think that’s what the evidence suggests.
And Craig
thinks otherwise. This will be an interesting point/counterpoint/counter-counter-point, I hope – as it is obviously a
very important issue for a very great number of people.
Before taking on Craig’s arguments, I want to make one
overarching point of my own that cannot be stressed enough,
since it is the single most important key to the entire
question. It has to do with why Romans crucified people – and
in particular (even *more* important)
why they crucified
people for insurrection against the state or for intended (in
the Roman eyes) insurrection.
Crucifixion was not invented by the Romans, but they used it a
lot.
It was thought of as the most horrible, painful,
tortuous, and humiliating form of execution possible.
If
Romans wanted simply to kill someone without a fuss, there
were plenty of other means available – for example,
beheading.
Crucifixion was reserved for special cases.
But there were lots of special cases. Two of the most common
were low-life criminals and enemies of the state.
These are
two very different matters – they are not the same thing. Low
life criminals would include, for example, slaves who had
escaped from their masters and committed a crime.
If caught,
a slave could be crucified.
There were two reasons they were
subjected to such a tortuous, slow, and humiliating death.
They were receiving the “ultimate” punishment for their crime
and, possibly more important, they were being used as a
spectacle to warn any other slave who was thinking about
escaping or committing crimes what could happen to *them*.
The Romans had a very different view of capital punishment
from ours. In the U.S., if someone is to be executed, there
are enormous concerns about due process.
Appeals can take
almost literally forever in some places.
The executions
themselves are done in private, and the goal (well, the stated
goal, anyway) is to make the death as swift and painless as
possible, away from the public view.
That’s not how the Romans did it.
The Romans did not have a
procedure for due process, trial by jury, right of appeal;
they did not delay punishment; and they wanted some executions
(for example, of low lifes and enemies of the state) to be as
public, torturous, long and drawn out, degrading, and
humiliating as possible.
If someone in New Jersey is
convicted of carjacking, they may need to spend some time
behind bars away from public view. If something like that
happened in the Roman empire (chariot-jacking?) (well, OK,
horse theft) they would nail the lout to a cross, in a public
place, so everyone passing by could hear him scream and watch
him writhe for a couple of days.
And then they’d leave the
body on the cross so that the birds and dogs could get at
it.
Do that a few times for horse-theft, and see how many
horse thieves you’ll find.
It was an exceedingly more
effective disincentive for crime. Or so the Romans reasoned,
in any event.
Worse than escaping as a slave or stealing a horse –very much
worse – was opposing the Roman state itself.
This is
something the Romans WOULD NOT tolerate.
Enemies of the
state had to be shown what the power of the state was. And
crucifixion was how it was done.
If you were a resistor to
Roman military action – crucified.
If you were caught
attacking Roman troops – crucified.
If you plotted to
overthrow the local Roman government – crucified.
Crucifixion was a particularly poignant statement when it came
to enemies of the state. Those who were opposed to Rome – I
don’t mean those who didn’t much like the Romans running the
show, or those who wished things were different, or those who
hoped something better would come along, but instead, those
who actively sought to oppose the state, or at least were
*thought* by the Roman authorities to seek to oppose the state
– were unceremoniously condemned to be crucified precisely in
order to show how absolutely HELPLESS anyone is who thinks
they can oppose the power of Rome.
Roman power was very real, very tangible, very palpable.
And
it was played out on the bodies of those who tried to oppose
it. Crucifixion was the perfect mode of execution for anyone
engaging in, supporting, or endorsing violent opposition to
the Roman state. You think you can oppose US? Well then,
this is what we’ll do to YOU to show you how powerful you
really are.
We will take you, strip you naked, drag you to a
public place, nail your hands (wrists) to a cross beam, nail
your feet to an upright, set you up as a public spectacle for
people to see and mock.
By doing so we will not only
torture you to death (often it took a couple of days for a
person to die of asphyxiation). We will reveal to all who can
see how helpless you are.
Your hands and feel will be nailed securely to wood and you
will be left to hang in a position where you cannot fend for
yourself.
You will not be able move your body. You will not
be able to wave off the scavenging birds. You will not be
able to kick away the roaming dogs. You will not be able to
lift life a finger to help yourself. We can do this to you.
And if you oppose our power, this *is* what we will do to you.
Crucifixion was not merely a death by torture.
It was a
symbolic statement that WE are Roman power and YOU are
nothing. And if you oppose us, we will prove it, by rendering
you absolutely, completely powerless, while we wrack your body
with pain and make you scream.
And the proof did not end with your last breath.
Romans left
bodies on the cross for clear and distinct reasons.
Everyone wanted a decent burial in the ancient world. It was
far more important to people then than it is to people today.
A decent burial, for many, was required for a decent
afterlife. It honored the body of the one departed. Not to
receive a decent burial was disgusting, scandalous, gutwrenching, debasing, humiliating.
And so Romans did not
allow crucified victims – especially enemies of the state – to
be buried. They left them on the crosses as their bodies rot
and the scavengers went on the attack.
To allow a decent
burial was to cave into the desires precisely of the people
who were being mocked and taught a lesson.
No decency
allowed.
grave.
The body has to rot, and then we’ll toss it into a
This was especially the case – I reiterate – for enemies of
the state.
Rare exceptions might be made for low-life
criminals – escaped slaves, horse thieves, general riff-raff
who did not matter to anyone in power. But enemies of the
state did matter to those in power. Because these enemies had
the temerity, stupidity, and willfulness to want to oppose
that power. If that’s what they choose to do, this is the
price they will pay – and everyone will see it, for days.
Jesus was not executed as a member of the riff-raff, as a
slave who committed a crime against his owner, as a lowly
criminal from the lower classes.
He was executed for calling
himself King of the Jews.
Craig Evans agrees with that.
Virtually everyone agrees with that.
Jesus was killed on a
political charge. By calling himself king – in Roman eyes
(whether this is what he personally meant or not) – he was
making a political claim, that he was going to replace the
Roman governance of Judea with a kingdom in which he himself
would be king.
This could happen (in Roman eyes) only if
there was a rebellion. Rebellions have to be suppressed – and
if you’re Roman, they have to be suppressed violently,
forcefully, mercilessly.
If you think you are going to
replace the Roman ruler,
if you think you can start an
insurrection against the state, if you think you can take our
power away and exert your own power, well, we’ll SHOW you how
much power you have.
The crucifixion of Jesus was a forceful and unmistakable
demonstration of Roman power.
They humiliated him, tortured
him, nailed him to a cross so that he couldn’t raise a hand in
his own defense, let alone overthrow the ruling Roman
authority.
It is what Romans did to insurrectionists and
prospective insurrectionists, to anyone who opposed their
power by proposing to set up their own kingdom.
The
humiliation and show of force was not limited to a six-hour
(in Jesus’ case, somewhat unusually, if the Gospels can be
trusted on this point) torture. To show what Roman power is,
the body would be left on the cross, so everyone in that
public place could see what happens to anyone who thinks they
can cross the power of Rome.
There was no quarter, no mercy,
no sympathy.
Instead, there was public humiliation and
torture and the public display, for days, of the bodies of
those who think that they will start their own kingdom.
This ideology of crucifixion needs to be firmly born in mind
when thinking about whether Romans made an exception to their
policies of crucifixion in the case of Jesus.