Chapter XXIII: Section VI: Jesus Christ (3)

The disciples, as we have seen, had received power over devils, but it appears from a remarkable story that they were not always able to master them. For on returning to them after the transfiguration, Jesus found a crowd about them engaged in some disputation. Having demanded an explanation, a man told him that he had brought his son, who was subject to violent fits, probably epileptic (Mark alone makes him deaf and dumb), and begged the disciples to cure him, which they had been unable to do. Hereupon, Jesus, bursting into an angry exclamation against the "faithless and perverse generation" with whom he lived, took the boy and healed him. Luke omits the private conversation with the disciples which followed on this scene. They asked him, it is said, why they had been thus unsuccessful. The answer is different in Matthew and in Mark. In the former Gospel, he assigns a plain reason: "because of your unbelief;" adding afterwards, "this kind does not come out except by fasting and prayer." In Mark, the latter statement constitutes the whole reply, no allusion being made to the disciples' unbelief. It is noticeable, however, that in Mark alone the father is required to believe before the boy is healed; a singular condition to exact, since belief may generally be expected to follow on a miracle rather than to precede it (Mk. ix. 14-29; Mt. xvii. 14-21; Lu. ix. 37-43).

In the case of the Syro-phœnician woman, however, there was no need to impose it, for her faith, founded on the reputation of Jesus was perfect. This woman came to him when he had gone upon an excursion to the neighborhood of Tyre and Sidon, and begged him to cast out a devil from her daughter, who was not present. He at first refused on the ground of her being a Gentile, but after a remarkable dialogue, confessed himself convinced by her arguments, and told her that on her return she would find the daughter cured, which actually happened (Mk. vii. 24-30; Mt. xv. 21-28). Here we have an instance of a remedy effected at a distance, which can scarcely be credited at all unless on the supposition that the daughter knew of her mother's expedition, and had equal faith in Jesus. The probability is, however, that her recovery is an invention, though the argument with the woman may possibly be historical.

Belief in the production of diseases by demoniacal possession, and in the power of exorcism over diseases so produced, is the common condition of mind in barbarous or semi-civilized nations. The phenomena which occurred in the first century in Judea are reproduced at the present day in more than one quarter of the globe. Take, to begin with, the theory of possession in Abyssinia, which I find quoted by Canon Callaway from Stern's "Wanderings among the Falashes." Canon Callaway observes that "in Abyssinia we meet with the word _Bouda_, applied to a character more resembling the Abatakadi or wizards of these parts [South Africa].... The _Bouda_, or an evil spirit called by the same name and acting with him, takes possession of others, giving rise to an attack known as 'Bouda symptoms,' which present the characteristics of intense hysteria, bordering on insanity. Together with the _Boudas_ there is, of course, the exorcist, who has unusual powers, and, like the _inyanga yokubula_, or diviner among the Amazulu, points out those who are _Boudas_, that is, Abatakati" (R. S. A., part iii. pp. 280, 281). Describing the diseases of the Polynesian islanders, the missionary Turner says: "Insanity is occasionally met with. It was invariably traced in former times to the immediate presence of an evil spirit" (N. Y., p. 221). Rising somewhat higher in the scale of culture, the Singhalese, as depicted by Knox, present the spectacle of patients whose symptoms are an almost exact reproduction of those which afflicted the objects of the mercy of Jesus. "I have many times," he relates, "seen men and women of this country strangely possest, insomuch that I could judge it nothing else but the effect of the devil's power upon them, and they themselves do acknowledge as much. In the like condition to which I never saw any that did profess to be a worshiper of the holy name of Jesus. They that are thus possest, some of them will run mad into the woods, screeching and roaring, but do mischief to none; some will be taken so as to be speechless, shaking and quaking, and dancing, and will tread upon the fire and not be hurt; they will also talk idle, like distracted folk." The author proceeds to say that the friends of these demoniac patients appeal to the devil for their cure, believing their attacks to proceed from him (H. R. C., p. 77).

The striking successes of Jesus with maladies of this order naturally brought him the reputation of ability to deal no less powerfully with other diseases. Accordingly, a leper presented himself one day, and kneeling to him said that if he wished he could make him clean. He did so, and the leper, though enjoined to keep silence, went about proclaiming the power of Jesus, who was consequently besieged by still further throngs of applicants and of curious spectators (Mk. i. 40-45; Mt. viii. 1-4; Lu. v. 12-16).

Illustrating the manner in which he was pursued, we find a curious story. Jesus was in his own house at Capernaum, when a paralytic, borne upon a couch, was brought to him to be healed. Unable from the concourse about him to penetrate to Jesus, his bearers let him down through an opening in the roof. After forgiving the man's sins, which he claimed a right to do, he told him to take up his bed and walk. This the paralytic at once did, to the amazement of the bystanders (Mk. ii. 1-12; Mt. ix. 1-8; Lu. v. 18-26). Matthew, telling the same story, omits the crowd and the circumstance of letting down the patient through the roof; and these adjuncts may be fictitious in the special case, but in so far as they bear witness to the thaumaturgic repute of Jesus, have in them an element of genuine history.

Of various other miracles of healing with which Jesus is credited, one of the most interesting is the alleged resuscitation of Jairus' daughter. Jairus was a ruler of the synagogue; a personage therefore of some note in his district; and his daughter, a little girl of twelve years old, was dangerously ill, and supposed by her friends to be at the point of death. At this critical moment Jairus repaired to Jesus, and requested him to come and lay his hands on the little maid, that she might live. Jesus consented, but before he could reach the house messengers arrived who informed Jairus that his child was already dead; he need not trouble the master. None the less did Jesus proceed to the house, taking with him only the most intimate disciples, Peter, James, and John. Here a strange scene awaited him. About, and probably in the sick-room had gathered a crowd of people, relations, friends, and dependants of Jairus, who were engaged in raising a wild clamor of grief around the child. Flute-players were performing on their instruments, while their lugubrious music was accompanied by the tumultuous wailing and howling of the mourners. Jesus, having entered the place, declared that the maiden was not dead, but sleeping; or as we should say, in a state of insensibility. The people laughed in derision at the assertion, but Jesus at once took the very proper and sensible measure of turning them all out of the room (which was either the sick-room itself or one close to it), and taking the damsel's hand, commanded her to rise. She did so, and Jesus (again exhibiting excellent sense) ordered that she should have something to eat (Mk. v. 21-24, and 35-43; Mt. ix. 18, 19, and 23-26; Lu. viii. 40-42, and 49-56). In this case we have a peculiarly valuable instance of the manner in which miracles may be manufactured. Analyzed into its elements of fact and its elements of inference, we find in it nothing which cannot be easily understood without supposing either any exercise of supernatural power or any deliberate fraud in the narrators. Observe first, that in two out of the three versions the girl is reported by Jairus not to be dead, but dying. True, before Jesus can get to her it is announced that she is actually dead. But Jesus, having reached the house, and having evidently seen the patient (though this fact is only suffered to appear in Luke's version), expressly contradicts this opinion, declaring that she is not dead, but unconscious. On what particular symptom he founded this statement we do not know, but we cannot, without accusing Jesus of deliberate untruthfulness, believe that he made it without reason. At any rate, the measures taken by him implied a decided conviction of the accuracy of his observation. If she were, as he asserted, not dead, though dangerously ill, the hubbub in the house, if suffered to continue, would very likely have rendered her recovery impossible. Quiet was essential; and that having been obtained, it was perfectly possible that under the soothing touch and the care of Jesus she might awake from her trance far better than before, and to all appearance suddenly restored to health. The crisis of her case was over, and it may have been by preventing her foolish friends from treating that crisis as death, that Jesus in reality saved her life. And when she awoke, the order to give her food implied a state of debility in which she could be assisted, not by supernatural, but by very commonplace measures. Observe, however, the manner in which in this case the myth has grown. In two of the Gospels, Mark and Luke, Jairus comes to Jesus, not when his daughter is dead, but only when she is supposed to be at the last gasp. There is no reason from their accounts to believe that she died at all, her friends' opinion on that point being contradicted by Jesus. But in Matthew the miracle is enhanced by the statement of the father to Jesus that she was just dead (Mt. ix. 18). Consistently with this account the message afterwards sent to him from his house is omitted. Again, while it seems from the manner in which Matthew and Mark relate what happened, that the words of Jesus, "The maiden is not dead, but sleepeth," preceded his entry into her room, it is clear from Luke that they succeeded it. And this is consistent with the requirements of the case. Some of the mourners and attendants must obviously have been by the bedside, and he could not turn them out till he was himself beside it. Then clearing the sick-chamber of useless idlers, he could proceed in peace to treat the patient; while if we suppose that these people were all outside the door, there is far less reason for their prompt expulsion. That this is the true explanation of the miracle I do not venture to assert; I have only been anxious to show, by a single instance, how easily the tale of an astounding prodigy might arise out of a few perfectly simple circumstances.

A curious incident took place on the way to the house of Jairus. A woman who had had an issue of blood for twelve years, came behind Jesus and touched his clothes, whereupon she was instantly healed. Jesus, turning round, told her that her faith had saved her (Mk. v. 25-34; Mt. ix. 20-22; Lu. viii. 43-48). Such is the fact as related by the first Evangelist; but the other two, magnifying the marvel, place Jesus in the midst of a throng of people pressing upon him, and make him supernaturally conscious that some one has touched him in such a manner as to extract remedial power out of him. Discovered by this instinct, the woman tremblingly confesses her deed.

Neither contact, however, nor even the presence of Jesus on the spot, were essential to a miracle of healing. A centurion, having a paralytic servant, either went or sent others to Jesus, requesting that he would heal him. Before Jesus could reach the house, he declared that he was unworthy of receiving him within it, but entreated that the word might be spoken, adding that his servant would then be healed. This was done; and Jesus took occasion to point the moral by contrasting the faith of this heathen with that of the Jews, dwelling on the superior strength of the former (Mt. viii. 5-13; Lu. vii. 1-10). This myth, which appears only in two Gospels, and in them with considerable variations, seems to have been designed to glorify Jesus by making a Roman officer acknowledge his powers. This intention is more evident in Luke than in Matthew; for in Matthew the centurion comes himself; but in Luke he sends "the elders of the Jews" to prefer his request, their appearance evincing his importance, and therefore increasing the honor done to Jesus by the suppliant attitude in which he stands. When Jesus is near his house the officer still does not approach in person, but sends friends, distinctly stating that he thought himself unworthy to come himself, and intimating his belief that a mere word will be enough to heal his servant. It is impossible to see why this message might not have been sent in the first instance by the elders, and the cure effected at once, but the two embassies to Jesus make a better story. Thus, in this version the centurion, who in the other version gives an interesting account of his official status, and receives the highest praise for his faith, never actually sees Jesus at all; and the eulogy is spoken not _to_ him, but _of_ him. Here, then, is another example of the way in which tales of this kind grow in passing from mouth to mouth.

Sometimes much more materialistic means of healing were adopted. One day, by the sea of Galilee, a deaf and dumb man was brought to Jesus. In this case he took the man aside, put his fingers into his ears, spat, touched his tongue, looked up to heaven, sighed, and said, Ephphatha, or, Be opened (Mk. vii. 31-37). When a word was sufficient, it was singular to go through all these performances, and the whole proceeding has somewhat the air of a piece of jugglery. At Bethsaida he dealt in like manner with a blind man, leading him out of the town, spitting upon his eyes, and then putting his hands upon him. Asked whether he saw, the man replied that he saw men as trees walking, whereupon a further application of the hand to his eyes caused him to see clearly (Mk. viii. 22-26). Here the remark presents itself that if anything of the sort ever occurred, the man could not have been born blind, since he would then have been unable to distinguish either men or trees by sight. It must have been a blindness due to accident or disease of the eyes, and might not have been total. But the whole story is probably mythical.

Two more miracles of healing rest on the authority of the third Gospel alone. By one of them ten lepers, who had asked for mercy, were suddenly cleansed after they had gone away. One only of the ten, a Sâmaritan, turned round to glorify God and to utter his gratitude. Jesus then observes: "'Were not the ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Were there none found that returned to give glory to God, except this stranger?' And he said to him, 'Arise, go; thy faith hath saved thee'" (Lu. xvii. 11-19). Here the intention of exalting the Sâmaritan above the Jews is very evident.

Another prodigy was worked at the town of Nain, where the only son of a widow was just dead, and his body was being carried out to the burial-place. Jesus touched the bier, and the widow's son rose to life, to the terror of the spectators, who declared that a great prophet had been raised up, and that God had looked upon his people (Lu. vii. 11-17).

Though the miracles of Jesus were principally of a remedial character, there were others which were rather designed to evince his power. Conspicuous among this class is that of feeding a multitude of five thousand people who had followed him into a desert place, and whose hunger he satisfied by the supernatural multiplication of five loaves and two fishes (Mk. vi. 30-45, and viii. 1-9; Mt. xiv. 14-21, and xv. 29-38; Lu. ix. 10-17; Jo. vi. 1-15). Of this wonder a double version, slightly different in details, has been embodied in the first two Gospels. It is plainly the same story coming from different sources. John, whose miracles are seldom identical with those of the synoptics, relates this one nearly in the same way; except that according to him it was a lad and not (as in the other Gospels) the disciples, who had the food on which the marvel was operated. The number of persons is stated in all four Gospels to be five thousand (and on the second occasion in the two first Gospels four thousand); but Matthew alone has striven to enhance the miracle still further by adding to these numbers the words, "besides women and children."

Immediately after this miracle the disciples entered a boat to cross the lake of Galilee, leaving their master on land. A storm overtook them at night, and as they were laboring through it, they saw Jesus walking towards them on the water. Alarmed at such an apparition they cried out in fear; but Jesus reassured them, and was received into their boat, whereupon the wind fell (Mk. vi. 45-52; Mt. xiv. 22-33; Jo. vi. 16-21). To this Matthew, unlike Mark and John, adds that Peter also attempted the feat of walking on the lake; but being timid, began to sink, and had to be rescued by Jesus. John alone adds to the first miracle a further one: namely, that immediately upon his entrance into the ship, they were at the land whither they went.

A somewhat similar performance is that of stilling a violent storm on the lake of Galilee, which seems to have astonished even the disciples in the boat, accustomed as they must have been to prodigies. At least their exclamation, "What sort of man then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?" looks as if all his influence over devils and diseases had failed to convince them of his true character (Mk. iv. 35-41; Mt. viii. 23-27; Lu. viii. 22-25).

All doubt upon this score must have been removed in the minds of three at least of the disciples by a scene which occurred in their presence. Peter, James and John accompanied him one day to a high mountain, where he was transfigured before them; his raiment becoming white and shining. Elijah and Moses were seen with him, and Peter, evidently bewildered, proposed to make three tabernacles. A voice came from heaven: "This is my beloved son: hear him." Suddenly the apparition vanished; Jesus alone remained with the disciples, and on the way down charged them to tell no one of what they had seen till after the resurrection (Mk. ix. 2-13; Mt. xvii. 1-13; Lu. ix. 28-36). This is a suspicious circumstance, which means, if it mean anything, that the transfiguration was never thought of till after the death of Jesus, and that this order of his was invented to account for the otherwise unaccountable silence of the three disciples. For is it to be imagined that Peter, James, and John could keep the secret of this marvelous event, which was so well fitted to confirm the faith of believers, and to convince the Jews in general of the Messianic nature of the prophet? And if they did keep the secret, what weight is to be attached to their evidence, given long after the event, and when exalted views of the divinity of the Christ who had risen from death were already current?

Such are some of the "mighty works" for which Jesus claimed, and his disciples yielded, the title of "son of man," or "son of God," and assumed the authority of the "Messiah" whom the Jewish nation expected. But this claim was recognized neither by the spiritual heads of the Jews, nor by the great bulk of the people. Indeed he had given great offense to their religious sentiment both by putting forward such pretensions, and by the opinions he had expressed on various topics. The language which had caused their hostility, as belonging to his historical and not to his mythical personality, will be considered elsewhere. But the accounts—semi-mythical, semi-historical—which have reached us of the closing scenes of his life, must be passed under review now.

Long before his actual arrest, the Gospels tell us that he had predicted to his disciples the sufferings that were to befall him. Peter, according to one of the versions, had remonstrated with him on these forebodings, and had received from him in consequence one of the sharpest reprimands he had ever given, with the opprobrious epithet of "Satan." It is further stated that he prophesied his resurrection, and his return to earth in glory with the angels of his Father. To this was added another prediction which proved false, that there were some standing there who should not taste of death till the son of man came in his kingdom. Gloomy expressions as to the necessity of his followers taking up their crosses and being ready to lose their lives also escaped him (Mk. viii. 31-ix. 1; Mt. xvi. 21-28; Lu. ix. 22-27). A little later, he is said to have distinctly given vent to similar expectations as to his approaching end, though without being able to make himself understood by his disciples (Mk. ix. 30-32; Mt. xvii. 22, 23; Lu. ix. 44, 45). Again, on the way to Jerusalem where he intended to celebrate the passover, he took all his twelve disciples aside, and distinctly foretold his execution there, and his resurrection on the third day (Mk. x. 32-34; Mt. xx. 17-19; Lu. xviii. 31-34).

Those portions of his prophecies which related to his death at the hands of the Jewish rulers, though not those which related to his return in glory, were destined to be soon fulfilled. Determined to insist publicly upon his title to the Messianic throne, Jesus resolved upon a triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Having sent two disciples from the Mount of Olives to fetch a colt, hitherto unridden, which he informed them the owners would surrender on hearing that the Lord had need of it, he mounted this animal and rode into the city amid the shouts and acclamations of his supporters. Many are said to have spread their garments in his path; others to have cut down branches from trees, and strewed them before him. Those that went before and behind him kept cheering as he rode, exclaiming: "Hosanna, blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord; blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David; hosanna in the highest" (Mk. xi. 1-11; Mt. xxi. 1-11; Lu. xix. 29-39; Jo. xii. 12-16).

This remarkable scene is described in all the Gospels; but while the three first represent Jesus as sending to fetch the colt, or the ass and colt, which he in some mysterious manner knows that the man will give up, the fourth makes him take the ass and mount it; not as in the other versions before the triumphal reception, but after it had begun. So that as to these important circumstances the two accounts are entirely at issue; that of John being the more natural. That Jesus actually entered Jerusalem in this fashion is highly probable, for we find in the Gospels themselves a motive assigned which might well have led him to select it for his approach to the capital. There was a prophecy in Zechariah with which he was no doubt familiar: "Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion: shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee, just and victorious is he; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a foal, the young of asses" (Zech. ix. 9). With the views he held as to his Messiahship, Jesus may well have been anxious to show that this prophecy was fulfilled in his person.

On the day after his entry on the ass, on coming from Bethany he was hungry, and finding a fig-tree without fruit, he cursed it. Mark says that the disciples found it withered the next day; Matthew increasing the marvelous element, that they saw it wither "immediately." Mark also adds that it was not the season for figs, which, if correct, would have made it absurdly irrational in Jesus to expect them (Mk. xi. 12-14, and 20-26; Mt. xxi. 18-22). If we accept the more natural supposition that it was the season, but that this individual tree was barren, then we may easily understand that the absence of fruit and the withered condition of the tree were both parts of the same set of phenomena, and that the disciples may have observed them about the same time.

Human beings were the next victims of the wrath of Jesus. The money-changers and dove-sellers were turned out of the temple by him; the fourth Gospel alone mentioning a scourge of small cords as the weapon employed (Mk. xi. 12-14; Mt. xxxi. 12, 13; Lu. xix, 45, 46; Jo. ii. 15-18). A question put by the authorities as to his right to act thus was met by a counter-question, and finally left unanswered (Mk. xi. 27-33; Mt. xxi. 23-27; Lu. xx. 1-8.). The chief priests now consulted together as to the measures to be taken with a view of bringing him to trial, but hesitated to do anything on the feast-day for fear of popular disturbances. Matthew tells us, what the other two do not know, that they assembled at the palace of the high priest Caiaphas, and also puts in the mouth of Jesus a distinct prophecy that after two days he will be betrayed to be crucified (Mk. xiv. 1, 2; Mt. xxvi. 1-5; Luke xxii. 1, 2.).

A similar foreboding is expressed, according to Matthew, Mark, and John, in reference to an incident which is variously described by these three Evangelists. Matthew and Mark agree in saying, that on this occasion he was taking a repast at the house of Simon the leper, when a woman came up to him with a box of very precious ointment and poured it on his head. Here, according to Mark, "some," according to Matthew, "the disciples," were indignant at the waste of the ointment, which might, they said, have been sold "for much," or "for three hundred pence," and the proceeds given to the poor. But Jesus warmly took up the woman's cause, for, he remarked, "she has wrought a good work on me. For you always have the poor with you, but me ye have not always. For in pouring this ointment on my body she has done it for my burial." Mark now how strangely this simple story has been perverted in the fourth Gospel to suit the purposes of the writer. The date he assigns to it—six days before the passover—is nearly the same as that given in the second Gospel, where it is placed two days before that festival. The place, Bethany, is also identical. But the other circumstances are widely different. In this Gospel alone is anything known of an intimate friend of Jesus, Lazarus by name. In it alone is there any mention of one of his most astounding miracles, the restoration of Lazarus to life. Consistently with his peculiar notion of the relations of Jesus with this man's family he says nothing of Simon the leper, but without telling us in whose house Jesus was, mentions that Lazarus was among the guests, and that his sister Martha was serving. Further, he asserts that the woman who brought the ointment was Mary, the other sister. Instead of pouring it on his head, she is made to anoint his feet, and wipe them with her hair. Instead of the disciples, or some unknown people, being angry at the waste, it is Judas Iscariot in whose mouth the obnoxious comment is placed. The sum he names, three hundred pence, is the same as that assigned in Mark as the value of the ointment. But in order to cover Judas with still further obloquy, the Evangelist charges him with a desire to obtain this sum, not for the poor, but for himself; he being the bearer of the common purse, and being in the habit of dishonestly appropriating some portion of its contents (Mk. xiv. 3-9; Mt. xxvi. 6-13; Jo. xii. 3-8). Of such an accusation not a trace is to be found in the other Gospels, whose writers were assuredly not likely to spare the reputation of Judas if it were open to attack. Nor does the author of this insinuation offer one particle of evidence in its support.

The steps by which a story grows from an indefinite to a definite, from a historical to a mythical form, are admirably illustrated in this instance. A tradition is preserved in which, while the main event is clear, many of the surrounding circumstances have been suffered to escape from memory. Writer after writer takes it up, and finding it thus imperfect, adds to it detail after detail until its whole complexion is altered. Even the main event may not always be exempted from the transfiguring process; as here, where the feet of Jesus are substituted for the head, and the interesting picture introduced of Mary wiping them with her hair, and consequently placing herself in a situation of the deepest humility. And if the central incident is thus unsafe, still more so are its adjuncts. First, the woman is unknown, as are those who murmur against her. Then, in the second stage, the woman is still unknown, but the murmurers are known generally as the disciples. But no bad motive is as yet assigned for their censure. Lastly, in the third stage, the woman is known, the murmurer is known specifically as _one_ disciple, and a bad motive is assigned for his censure. Such is the way in which myths grow up.

The circumstance we have next to deal with is obscure, not because too much has been added, but because something has been omitted. Jesus had now drawn upon him the mortal hatred of the priests of the temple. He was well aware of his danger, as many of his expressions show. He endeavored to avoid it by living in concealment in or near Jerusalem. Not that we are told of this in so many words, but that the course of the story renders it a necessary assumption. For all the Gospels inform us that one of his disciples, Judas named Iscariot, went to the chief priests and betrayed him, receiving a pecuniary reward for the service thus rendered (Mk. xiv. 10, 11; Mt. xxvi. 14-16; Lu. xxii. 3-6; Jo. xiii. 2, 27). As to this fact there is complete unanimity, and it is borne out by the manner of his arrest as subsequently depicted. We cannot then treat it as a fiction; but it is plain that had Jesus been leading the open and public life described in the Gospels, there would have been no secret to betray, and no reward to be earned. A period, more or less long, of retirement to some spot known only to friends, must therefore be taken for granted. John alludes to something of the sort, though not distinctly, when he relates that there was a garden across the brook Cedron, to which he often resorted with his disciples, and which was known to Judas. But the Christian tradition did not like to acknowledge that Christ, whom it represents as braving death, ever lurked in hidden places like a criminal, and at the same time it wished to brand the memory of Judas with infamy. Hence the suppression of a fact without which the story cannot be understood. The expressions, "he sought how he might conveniently betray him" (Mk. xiv. 11); or "he sought opportunity to betray him" (Mt. xxvi. 26), plainly point to the same inference.

There are some differences in the manner in which the proceedings of Judas are related. All the Gospels agree that he received money, but Matthew alone knows how much. This Evangelist had in his mind a passage in Zechariah, which he erroneously attributes to Jeremiah, and which moreover he misquotes (Mt. xxvii. 9). In the original it runs thus: "And I said unto them [the poor of the flock], If it is good in your eyes, give me my hire; and if not, forbear. And they weighed for my hire thirty pieces of silver."[26] Matthew and Mark merely state that Judas betrayed his master, giving no reason for his conduct. Luke, however, represents it as a consequence of Satan having entered into him (Lu. xxii. 3); while John in like manner states that the devil put it into his heart, and even knows the very moment when Satan entered into him (Jo. xiii. 2, 27). This Evangelist alone places the first steps taken by Judas after the last supper, instead of before it, and strangely enough so arranges the course of events, that he only acts upon the resolution to betray him after a distinct declaration by Jesus that he was about to do so.

Slightly anticipating the course of the narrative, we may mention here the singular myth of the unhappy end of the traitor Judas; a myth which is of peculiar interest inasmuch as its origin is distinctly traceable to a mistranslation of a verse in Zechariah. The passage quoted above continues thus: "And Jehovah spoke to me: Throw it to the treasure, the costly mantle with which I am honored by them; and I took the thirty pieces of silver and threw them into the temple of Jehovah to the treasure." But the word here used for the treasure commonly signifies potter, and was hence interpreted "Throw it to the potter." Out of this mistake arose the story that Judas, ashamed of his bargain, returned the money to the chief priests, who, deeming it unlawful to put it in the treasury, bought therewith the "potter's field to bury strangers in." Thus, observes Matthew, "was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet." Judas, having parted with his ill-gotten gain, committed suicide by hanging (Mt. xxvii. 3-10). So at least says Matthew; but Luke, making confusion worse confounded, represents Judas himself as purchasing the field "with the reward of iniquity;" after which he fell headlong, and bursting in the middle, his bowels gushed out (Acts i. 18, 19). Of this notorious fact, "known," according to the Acts of the Apostles, "to all the dwellers at Jerusalem," Matthew at least was wholly ignorant. But both versions equally originate in the defective Hebrew of the translators of Zechariah.

In all the synoptical Gospels, the celebration of the passover by Jesus and his disciples succeeds the secret arrangement of Judas with the high priests. He kept it in Jerusalem, in the house of a man whose name is not mentioned, but who must have been one of his adherents. The encounter with this man is represented in two of the three versions as something miraculous. On the first day of unleavened bread Jesus told two of his disciples (according to Mark), James and John (according to Luke), to go into Jerusalem, where they would meet a man bearing a pitcher of water. Him they were to follow, and wherever he went in, they were to say to the master of the house, "Where is the guest-chamber, where I may eat the passover with my disciples?" He would then show them a large furnished upper room, where they were to prepare it. Nothing but a perfectly natural version of all this appears in Matthew. There Jesus tells his disciples to go into the city to So-and-so (the name therefore having been given), and tell him that he wished to keep the passover at his house (Mk. xiv. 12-16; Mt. xxvi. 17-19; Lu. xxii. 7-13). Here again we see how easily a wondrous tale may originate in a very simple fact.

Supper was accordingly prepared in the man's house, and Jesus ate the passover there with his disciples. At this supper, according to all the Gospels, he mentioned the fact that one of them would betray him. Whether in so doing he actually named the traitor is uncertain. Mark's account is that when he had predicted that one would betray him, the disciples in sorrow inquired one by one, "Is it I?" and that Jesus told them it was the one who dipped with him in the dish. Luke leaves it still more indefinite. There Jesus merely says, "the hand of him that betrays me is with me on the table," and no further inquiry is made by any one. Matthew, like Mark, represents each disciple as asking whether he was the one, and Jesus as giving the same indication about the dish. But he adds that Judas himself asked, "Is it I?" and that Jesus answered, "Thou hast said." Quite different is the account in John. There, instead of all the disciples inquiring whether it was he, a single disciple, leaning on the breast of Jesus, asks, on a sign from Peter, who it was to be. Jesus does not reply that it was he who dipped in the dish, but he to whom he should give a sop. He then gives the sop to Judas, and tells him to do quickly that which he is about to do; words understood by no one present.[27] The improbability of any of these stories is obvious. In the three first, Judas is pointed out to all the eleven as a man who is about to give up their master to punishment, and probable death, yet no step was taken or even suggested by any of them either to impede the false disciple in his movements, or to save Jesus by flight and concealment. The announcement is taken as quietly as if it were an every-day occurrence that was referred to. John's narrative avoids this difficulty by supposing the intimation that Judas was the man to be conveyed by a private signal understood only by Peter and the disciple next to Jesus. These two may have felt it necessary to keep the secret, but why then could they not understand the words of Jesus to Judas, or why not at least inquire whether they had reference to his treachery, which had just before been so plainly intimated? That Jesus, with his keen vision, may have divined the proceedings of Judas, is quite possible; that he could have spoken of them at the table in this open way without exciting more attention, is hardly credible.

It was at this same passover that Christ, conscious of his approaching end, blessed the bread and the cup of wine, and giving them to his disciples, told them that the one was his body, and the other his blood in the new testament, or the new testament of his blood (Mk. xiv. 22-25; Mt. xxvi. 26-29; Lu. xxii. 14-21; I Cor. xi. 23-25). John who was confused about dates in his biography, supposes that this supper took place before the feast of the passover, instead of at it, and, consistently with this view, he says nothing of the institution of the Eucharist, which had a peculiar reference to the Jewish feast-day. Instead thereof, he introduces another ceremony, of which neither the other Evangelists nor Paul say a word; that of washing the disciples' feet by Jesus. This was done to make them "clean every whit" (though it had no such effect on Judas), and also to set them an example of mutual kindness (Jo. xiii. 4-17).

The passover eaten, Jesus retired with his disciples to the Mount of Olives. Being in a prophetic mood, he foretold that all his disciples would forsake him in the hour of danger now approaching, and that Peter would deny him. This Peter resented, though it was destined to be soon fulfilled. After this Jesus went to Gethsemane, and taking his three principal disciples apart from the rest, told them that his soul was sorrowful unto death, and begged them to remain and watch while he prayed. Going a little forward, he prayed earnestly that the coming trial might pass from him, yet with submission to God's will. Returning, he found his three friends asleep, and this happened twice again, these devoted men sleeping calmly on until the very moment when the officers of the Sanhedrim came to arrest their Lord. Luke adorns this scene—which he places at the Mount of Olives without mentioning the garden of Gethsemane—with ampler details. Mark and Matthew know nothing of the exact distance of Jesus from his disciples; Luke knows that it was about a stone's throw. Moreover, all the number are present, not only Peter, James, and John. Sweat like drops of blood falls from Christ. An angel appears to strengthen him. All this is new; as is the representation that the disciples were sleeping from sorrow,—a motive which the Evangelist no doubt felt it needful to assign in order to vindicate their honor. The other two biographers, who content themselves with saying that "Their eyes were heavy," certainly keep more within the limits of probability (Mk. xiv. 32-42; Mt. xxvi. 36-46; Lu. xxii. 39-46).

No sooner was the prayer concluded than Judas, accompanied by a large _posse comitatus_ armed with swords and staves, came from the Jewish authorities. Resistance to the arrest must have been expected, and not wholly without reason; for as soon as the officers, in obedience to the preconcerted signal of a kiss from Judas, had seized Jesus, one of his party drew a sword and cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. This incident is related in various ways in all the Gospels. In Mark, Jesus addresses no rebuke to the disciple who commits this action. In Matthew, he tells him to put up his sword, for all who take the sword shall perish by the sword. In Luke, the progress to greater definiteness which has been noted as characterizing these semi-historical myths has begun. In the first place, before going to the Mount of Olives, the disciples provide themselves with two swords; and Jesus, on their mentioning the fact, says, "It is enough." Then the writer knows that it was the right ear which was cut off. More than this, he gives artistic finish to the whole by making Jesus touch the place and heal the wound: though whether a new ear grew, or the old one was put on again, he does not tell us. More definite still is the version in John. This Evangelist, as we saw in another case, is fond of supplying names. Thus, he pretends to know here that it was Peter who cut off the ear, and that its owner was called Malchus. Peter is called to order in his version, but Malchus is not healed. Plainly it was the sense of justice of the third Evangelist that made him shrink from leaving an innocent dependent in this mutilated condition, when he knew that Christ might so easily have restored the missing member.

While in the synoptical Gospels it is Judas who by a kiss points out Jesus, in John it is Jesus himself who comes forward to declare himself. Hereupon the party deputed by the priests go backwards and fall to the ground. They soon recover themselves enough to arrest him. In all the versions he suffers himself to be quietly taken, while in all but John he resents, with much dignity, the sending of such a force against him, as though he had been a thief; while in fact he had often taught openly in the temple and had not been stopped. Their master once taken, the courage of the disciples was at an end. They all fled. Jesus was brought before the Sanhedrim, and evidence, of the tenor of which we are not informed, was produced against him. Lastly, two witnesses deposed that they had heard him say, "I am able to destroy this temple, and in three days to rebuild it;" or, "I will destroy this temple made with hands, and will build another not made with hands in three days." Mark endeavors to depreciate these witnesses by saying that their evidence did not agree; and he himself is liable to the remark that his report of their evidence does not agree with that of Matthew, while in neither Gospel does the utterance attributed by these men to Jesus tally exactly with that assigned to him in John, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up" (Jo. ii. 19). The agreement, however, is close enough to render it probable that some such expression was used, and some such evidence given. Neither Luke nor John know anything of witnesses against Jesus. But Luke, in common with the other synoptical Gospels, asserts that he not only admitted, but emphatically confirmed the charge—distinctly put to him by the high priest—of being the Son of God. On this confession he was unanimously found guilty of blasphemy.

Wholly different is the conduct of the trial in John, whose account, moreover, is confused and ill-written in the extreme. With his usual proneness to give names, he says that Jesus was taken first before Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas the high priest. Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas. The high priest (the council is not alluded to) carried on an informal conversation with Jesus, inquiring about his doctrine and disciples; questions which the latter, on the plea of the publicity of his teaching, refused to answer. There is no mention of blasphemy; no conviction on any charge; no expression of opinion on the part of Caiaphas; though from the fact that he committed the prisoner for trial before the Roman court, it may be inferred that he considered him guilty.[28]

During the trial by the Sanhedrim, a singular scene was passing in the ante-room. There Peter, who alone of the disciples had followed his master (for the mention of another is peculiar to John), was warming himself among the attendants. Questioned by maids and officers of the court whether he had not been among the disciples of the accused, he vehemently, three several times, repudiated the supposition, though his Galilean accent told heavily against him. According to John, the question was put on the third occasion by a relative of Malchus, who had seen him in the garden. The other Evangelists are less specific. Now Jesus had foretold that Peter would thus deny him, and that his falsehoods would be followed by the crowing of a cock. Immediately after the last denial, this signal occurred; and Peter, according to all the Gospels but the fourth, went out and wept over his meanness.[29]

Convicted by the Sanhedrim, the prisoner was now placed at the bar of the civil tribunal. The procurator of Judea at this time was a man named Pontius Pilatus. His character does not stand high. Neander terms him "an image of the corruption which then prevailed among distinguished Romans" (Leben Jesu, p. 687). Appointed in the year 23, he was recalled in 37 on account of the slaughter of some Sâmaritans in a battle. He had insulted the prejudices of the people he governed by setting up the standards of the Roman army within the walls of Jerusalem, and had threatened an armed attack upon the peaceable Jews who went to Cæsarea to remonstrate against this novel measure. On another occasion he had taken some of the revenues of the temple to construct an aqueduct, and when the work was interrupted by the people, had set disguised soldiers upon them, who killed them without mercy.

Such a man was not likely to be excessively troubled by scruples about the execution of an innocent victim. On the other hand it is perfectly possible that he might, comparing the prisoner with the prosecutors, prefer the former. Having no love for the Jewish people, an object of their antipathy might become to a certain extent an object of his sympathy. But beyond this, it would be absurd to suppose that a man of the character of Jesus would inspire him with any sort of regard, or that he would hesitate to take his life if it suited his purpose. The simplest account of the trial bears out this expectation. Questioned by Pilate as to the charge preferred against him, of claiming to be the king of the Jews, the prisoner answered by an admission of its truth: "Thou sayest it." To other accusations urged against him by the priests he made no reply. Pilate wondered at his silence, and endeavored, but without success, to extract an answer. While the conduct of the accused man must have appeared to him not a little strange, Pilate may also have thought that the pretensions to kingship of a peaceable fanatic, with but few and obscure followers, were nowise dangerous to the Roman government. It was his custom at this festival to release a prisoner, leaving the people, or the Jewish authorities, to decide whom. He now proposed to release Jesus, but the suggestion was not accepted, and the liberation of a well-known political prisoner, who had been engaged in an insurrectionary enterprise, was demanded instead. Pilate naturally enough preferred the would-be Messiah to the actual rebel. The Jews as naturally preferred the rebel. They clamored for the crucifixion of Jesus, and Pilate—afraid perhaps that by too much anxiety to save him he would expose himself to misrepresentation before Tiberius—gave way to their demand.

So far Mark; and as to the charge against Jesus, and the procurator's treatment of it, the other Evangelists are all at one with him. But each has adorned the trial with additional incidents after his own fashion. Matthew has a ridiculous story of an interference with the course of justice by Pilate's wife, who on the strength of a dream entreated him to have nothing to do with "that just man." Matthew, as we have seen before, was a great believer in dreams. Then he is so desirous of clearing the character of the Roman, that he describes him as washing his hands in token of his innocence before the multitude, who cry out that the blood of Jesus is to be on them and their children. In Luke, there is a new variation. Learning that Jesus was a Galilean, Pilate sent him to Herod, who had long been anxious to see him, but who could not now induce him to answer any of his questions. Herod, like Pilate, found no fault in him, and sent him back after treating him with ridicule. Pilate's reluctance to convict Jesus is much magnified in this Gospel. He insists on Herod's inability, as well as his own, to discover any capital offense committed by him, and three several times proposes to the prosecution to chastise him and then dismiss him. In John, the conversation of Pilate with Jesus is wholly different. In the first place, it takes place alone, or at any rate in the absence of the accusers, for these had refused to be defiled by entering the court; and Pilate is represented as going out to them to inquire into the charge. This is to suit the blunder about dates committed in this Gospel, according to which the last supper was before, and the trial at the very time of, the passover. The Jews, therefore, stand without, and the prisoner is within. The prisoner does not refuse, as in all the other versions, to answer Pilate's questions, but enters at some length into his doctrine, explaining the unworldly nature of his kingdom. Pilate places the purple robe and the crown of thorns upon him before his condemnation, instead of after it, and then tells the Jews that he finds no fault in him. Yet after this he desires them to crucify him, although he was guiltless. Hereupon the Jews tell him that he had made himself the Son of God. At this, Pilate is frightened, and enters into further conversation with Jesus. After hearing him expound another theory, he is still very anxious to release him, but is forced to yield by an intimation that no friend of Cæsar's would protect a rival to the throne (Mk. xv. 1-14; Mt. xxvii. 1, 2, and 11-25; Lu. xxiii. 1-23; Jo. xviii. 28-40). Anything more utterly improbable than this scene it is difficult to imagine. The picture of the Roman governor of Judea going backwards and forwards between accusers and accused; listening to the theological fancies of the accused; helpless against the pressure of the accusers; alarmed at the pretensions to divinity of a young Galilean artisan; are sufficient in themselves to stamp this Gospel with the mark of unveracity.