The Impact of Jesus in First- Century Palestine Textual and Archaeological Evidence for Long- standing Discontent 9781108482233

Table of contents :
List of Illustrations page ix
Preface xi
Introduction 1
Part I Memories of Jesus: The Textual Evidence
1 Discontent in Early First- Century Galilee and Judea 9
Introduction: The Historical Background 9
The Messiah 14
Jesus’ Eschatology: The Kingdom of God 22
Summary 31
2 Jesus, the Temple, and the Chief Priests 32
Introduction 32
Jesus’ Action in the Temple and Sayings Relating to the Temple 37
The Infl uence of the High Priesthood in Jesus’ Arrest and Trial 44
Summary 51
3 The Character and Legacy of Jesus 53
Introduction 53
Forgiveness of Sin and Healing Miracles 58
Jesus’ Spiritual Life 63
The Aftermath of the Crucifi xion 70
Summary 74
Part II Jesus in Context: The
Archaeological Evidence
4 Jewish Identities and the Distribution of Ethnic Indicators 77
Introduction 77
Stepped Plastered Pools – Miqweh (Singular) Miqwa’ot (Plural) 78
Stone Vessels (Herodian Stoneware) 86
Ossuaries 91
Pig versus Wild Boar Bones 100
Household Judaism 102
Summary 103
Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 2 104
5 Health Hazards in First- Century Palestine 114
Infectious and Parasitic Diseases 114
Leprosy and Tuberculosis 115
Malaria and Anaemia 120
The Dog Tapeworm ( Echinococcus granulosus ) 126
Patterns of Death in Palestinian Rock- Cut Tombs 127
Interpersonal Violence in the Early First Century 134
Summary 136
Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 3 137
6 Status, Power, and Wealth 145
Introduction 145
Comparing and Contrasting the Wealthy in First- Century
Palestine 149
Galilee 149
Judea 158
The Generation of Wealth 164
Meat as a Status Symbol 170
Summary 179
Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 1 180
Conclusion 187
Bibliography 199
Index 243

Citation preview

The Impact of Jesus in First-Century Palestine

Although the archaeological evidence indicates a prosperous and thriving Galilee in the early first century ce, the Gospel texts suggest a society under stress, where the rich were flourishing at the expense of the poor. In this multidisciplinary study, Rosemary Margaret Luff contributes to current debates concerning the pressures on early firstcentury Palestinian Jews, particularly with reference to socio-economic and religious issues. She examines Jesus within his Jewish environment in order to understand why he rose to prominence when he did, and what motivated him to persevere with his mission. Luff’s study includes six carefully constructed essays that examine early Christian texts against the wider background of late Second Temple Judaic literature, together with the material evidence of Galilee and Judea (Jerusalem). Synthesizing a wide range of archaeological and textual data for the first time, she offers new insights into the depth of social discontent and its role in the rise of Christianity. Rosemary Margaret Luff is an archaeologist and an Emeritus Fellow at Clare Hall, University of Cambridge. During the 1980s and early 1990s, she ran a research unit in the Department of Archaeology specializing in the recovery and analysis of animal and human remains from a variety of prehistoric, Roman, and medieval sites in eastern England; the bones provided information on diet, disease, animal husbandry, socio-economics, mortality, and religious practice. She later worked on excavations in Egypt, in particular those of the 18th Dynasty and Late Antique period, and subsequently directed a project (funded by the Leverhulme Trust) investigating the importance of aquatic versus terrestrial resources in the Pharaonic and Roman periods. While in Egypt she developed a keen interest in early monastic sites, and this resulted in her examining material in Israel, which ultimately led to the present project.

The Impact of Jesus in First-Century Palestine Textual and Archaeological Evidence for Long-standing Discontent

ROSEMARY MARGARET LUFF Clare Hall, Cambridge

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06-04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108482233 DOI: 10.1017/9781108612364 © Cambridge University Press 2019 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2019 Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd., Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Luff, Rosemary Margaret, author. Title: The impact of Jesus in first-century Palestine : textual and archaeological evidence for long-standing discontent / Rosemary Margaret Luff, Clare College, Cambridge. Description: Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, [2019] Identifiers: LCCN 2019019448 | ISBN 9781108482233 (hardback) | ISBN 9781108711678 (paperback) Subjects: LCSH: Bible. Gospels – Criticism, interpretation, etc. | Bible. Gospels – History of contemporary events. | Palestine – History – To 70 A.D. | Palestine – Social life and customs – To 70 A.D. | BISAC: RELIGION / History. Classification: LCC BS2555.52.L84 2019 | DDC 232.9–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019019448 ISBN 978-1-108-48223-3 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

In fond memory of Leonard Baker Luff Trevor Baker Luff David Baker Luff & Helen Anne Luff

Contents

List of Illustrations Preface

page ix xi

Introduction Part I 1

1

Memories of Jesus: The Textual Evidence

Discontent in Early First-Century Galilee and Judea Introduction: The Historical Background The Messiah Jesus’ Eschatology: The Kingdom of God Summary

2

Jesus, the Temple, and the Chief Priests Introduction Jesus’ Action in the Temple and Sayings Relating to the Temple The Influence of the High Priesthood in Jesus’ Arrest and Trial Summary

3

The Character and Legacy of Jesus Introduction Forgiveness of Sin and Healing Miracles Jesus’ Spiritual Life The Aftermath of the Crucifixion Summary

9 9 14 22 31 32 32 37 44 51 53 53 58 63 70 74

Part II Jesus in Context: The Archaeological Evidence 4

Jewish Identities and the Distribution of Ethnic Indicators Introduction vii

77 77

Contents

viii

Stepped Plastered Pools – Miqweh (Singular) Miqwa’ot (Plural) Stone Vessels (Herodian Stoneware) Ossuaries Pig versus Wild Boar Bones Household Judaism Summary Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 2

5

Health Hazards in First-Century Palestine Infectious and Parasitic Diseases Leprosy and Tuberculosis Malaria and Anaemia The Dog Tapeworm (Echinococcus granulosus)

Patterns of Death in Palestinian Rock-Cut Tombs Interpersonal Violence in the Early First Century Summary Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 3

6

Status, Power, and Wealth Introduction Comparing and Contrasting the Wealthy in First-Century Palestine

78 86 91 100 102 103 104 114 114 115 120 126 127 134 136 137 145 145

The Generation of Wealth Meat as a Status Symbol Summary Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 1

149 149 158 164 170 179 180

Conclusion

187

Galilee Judea

Bibliography Index

199 243

Illustrations

2.1 The Temple in the first century ce. From the Holyland Model of Jerusalem page 33 2.2 The Western Wall of the Temple Mount 34 4.1 Bathtub and adjacent ritual pool (miqweh) in the Jewish Quarter 84 4.2 Stone vessels from the Burnt House in the Jewish Quarter 87 4.3 Caiaphas ossuary with inscription 99 5.1 Minimum number (MN) of subadults (0–18 years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of individuals 129 5.2 Minimum number (MN) of infants (0–5 years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of individuals 130 5.3 Minimum number (MN) of infants (0–5 years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of individuals, compared with the minimum number (MN) of infants (0–1 years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of infants 131 6.1 Map of Palestine in the first century ce 148 6.2 Map of Galilee in the first century ce 149 6.3 Plan of Jerusalem at the end of the Second Temple period 159 6.4 Mosaic floor in the Jewish Quarter 161 6.5 Stone table and vessels from the Burnt House in the Jewish Quarter 162

ix

Preface

This book was born of bereavement. I am most grateful for the encouragement and support given by close family members, friends, and university colleagues in bringing it to fruition. I am greatly indebted to the people who kindly read chapters, in some cases the whole manuscript, and offered suggestions for improvement: James Dunn, Mark Chancey, Simon Charlesworth, Robert Gordon, Liora Kolska Horwitz, Jodi Magness, Martin Millett, Piers Mitchell, Dennis Mizzi, and Ronny Reich. I  would also like to thank the anonymous reviewers for their insightful comments, which were well worth waiting for; their recommendations allowed a better integration of the textual and archaeological data which brought Jesus more into focus. Special thanks are given to Philip Stickler who produced the maps and advised on illustrations. I am most appreciative of the support given by the President, the Fellows, and the Visiting Fellows of Clare Hall. The great strength of the college is its multidisciplinary (and multinational) nature, which has greatly benefited me, since my interests are so wide-ranging. To be able to discuss research problems at table over excellent cuisine, in such a convivial and stimulating atmosphere, is a privilege that I highly value. Moreover, having a study in such tranquil and beautiful surroundings considerably aided my research and writing. I am grateful to Hillel Geva and the Israel Exploration Society, and Zev Radovan for reproduction permission. I would also like to acknowledge the encouragement and support of Beatrice Rehl and Eilidh Burrett at Cambridge University Press, without which this book would not have come into being. Lastly, I am indebted to my copyeditor, Kim Richardson, for his expertise in editing this manuscript. xi

Introduction

Although the archaeological evidence indicates a prosperous and thriving Galilee in the early first century ce, the Gospel texts suggest a society under stress and one where the rich were flourishing at the expense of the poor. This motivated me to examine the texts in more detail against the wider background of late Second Temple Judaic literature, and also to undertake an in-depth appraisal of the archaeology, including Jerusalem and environs, in order to determine the nature and severity of any stressors. I was particularly interested in distinguishing between halachic and socio-economic reasons for the distribution of the Jewish ethnic indicators (ritual pools, stone vessels, ossuaries, absence of pig bones) and the possibility of pinpointing halachic differences between Galilee and Judea which may have influenced Jesus’ ministry. There is a major link between the Gospels (and associated texts) and the archaeological remains concerning the wealthy – that is, who they were (texts), and where they lived and the extent of their assets (archaeology) – which I  also wished to pursue. Because archaeology is virtually silent about poverty, I  believe being able to assess the degree of luxury enjoyed by the higher echelons of society in turn would allow some estimation of how oppressed the people were. Finally, given Jesus is remembered as a renowned healer claiming to have cured leprosy, and that infectious disease is a great leveller of any society, I  wanted to determine what diseases were prevalent in first-century Palestine and how life-threatening they were. Born between two major insurrections (4 bce and 66–70 ce), Jesus began his ministry roughly forty years before the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce. That Jesus was held in great esteem by his followers 1

2

Introduction

in the early and later first century, and still is a dominant force, cannot be denied. However, the assumption that it was solely the resurrection experiences of those first disciples – their visions of the resurrected Jesus which catapulted the promulgation and establishment of his movement and catalysed the formation of the early church  – is questionable. The impact of the pre-Easter Jesus was surely of immense importance and merits careful consideration. To touch on the essence of Jesus is to view him in context – his Jewish context. We need to know what it was like to be an ordinary Jew in the early first century with regard to everyday living and worship. We need to understand the hopes and fears of the people and what had engendered them. The late Second Temple Judaic texts and the Gospels have been written by people about people, not only about their torments and deliverance, but their tormentors and deliverers. The textual evidence thus describes the psychology of the main protagonists on the early first-century stage. It can be viewed in two ways, as 1) providing information concerning the general mood of the people, and 2) enabling an understanding of the mindset of specific individuals. However, during the past forty years there has been much controversy concerning the extent to which the material in the canonical Gospels actually originated with Jesus.1 Currently we are in a situation where we have moved from one end of the spectrum to the other, so that there is considerable scepticism about the possibility of recovering the exact words of Jesus, or even his teaching. Indeed, it is readily accepted by a large number of scholars that many of the events describing Jesus’ life are

1

Over the years a number of criteria have been employed to judge the authenticity of Gospel texts with respect to the historical Jesus and these are summarized by James Charlesworth (2008, 20–27). However, in a recent publication, Jesus Criteria and the Demise of Authenticity edited by Keith and Le Donne (2012), such approaches have been soundly criticized. One of the more commonly used criteria is that of multiple attestation. This criterion attests to the historical origin of the material if it occurs in two or more independent sources. The two-source hypothesis, explaining the literary relationships between the Synoptic Gospels, depends on whether Matthew and Luke separately adopted material from an earlier hypothetical document, Q, as well as that from Mark; however, there is no assurance that Mark was unaware of Q or indeed that Luke did not copy material from Matthew and Mark (Goodacre 2012, 152–170). The criterion of dissimilarity originally constituted any saying which was at odds with Judaism or the early church; while Jesus is now accepted as a full-blooded Jew, the latter has been challenged by a number of researchers and they propose that the criterion should be one of similarity between Jesus and the early church (Hays 1996, 161; C. A. Evans 2007, 50). I concur with this since there has to be some continuity between the man and the organization he instigated.

Introduction

3

essentially post-Easter creations, whereby Jesus has been mythologized by the early Christians. Certainly the Gospel authors had their own agendas, but this does not altogether preclude getting back to original material that pertains to Jesus himself and what he was attempting to do. The New Testament Gospels reflect the origins of the Christian movement, when there was much strife and competition between groups.2 Significantly, these texts have been dubbed ‘wartime literature’ by Elaine Pagels, who suggested that Mark was composed either in a respite during the siege of Jerusalem or immediately after its destruction in 70 ce.3 More likely, Mark was written circa 67–70 ce ‘because the fall of the Temple predicted in chapter 13 is not influenced by the actual destruction of the Jewish sanctuary in the war with Rome’ (L. T. Johnson 2010, 37; see also chapter 2, pp. 43–44). Less likely is the view that that Mark may have been completed in the period 35–45 ce.4 With regard to Matthew and Luke, there is considerable support for a date of composition between 80 and 95 ce.5 The traditional view gives John a dating in the late first century between 90 and 100 ce.6 However, James H.  Charlesworth argues for a pre-70 ce dating for the first edition of John’s Gospel on the basis of textual, geographical, and archaeological evidence (Charlesworth 2018, 540; Charlesworth 2010, 3–46). Moreover, it may well be that part of John’s text is based on eyewitness accounts. Notwithstanding, we have to reckon with the fact that ‘first-century Israel was an oral culture’, and it is highly likely that Jesus’ works and words were transmitted orally through two generations after his death, prior to and alongside the written Gospels.7 Over the past decade there has been considerable debate concerning whether oral accounts can be identified and recovered from the literature. The nub of the problem rests on the psychology of memory, a dimension some scholars feel reluctant to trust, since, with respect to everyday living, there is a feeling that only a vague idea of an event or conversation may be remembered. However,

2

3 4 5

6 7

For example, there was ‘bitter fighting between Peter and Paul over the meaning of Jesus’ death’ (Pagels and King 2007, 42). Pagels 1995, 8; 2005, 45. Crossley 2004; a review of Crossley by Instone-Brewer 2006, 650. Dunn 2003, 160 citing:  Fitzmyer 1981, 53–57; Davies and Allison 1988, 1.127–138; Brown 1997, 216–217; Schnelle 1998, 222, 243. Cassidy 2015, 3. Importantly, the churches would already have had their own oral or written versions; thus this could account for some of the variations between the Gospels, which may then not just be alterations through redaction (Dunn 1999, 40; see also Dunn 2003, 161).

4

Introduction

Craig A.  Evans (2011b, 214)  has pointed out in an important review8 that ‘this approach fails to take into account the pedagogical dimension of Jesus’ teaching and activities’. This was a learning exercise where the disciples were pupils responding to the daily teaching of Jesus. And a good teacher constantly reiterates his/her message in different ways, thus ensuring that the essence is preserved and securely passed on, in the case of Jesus from disciple to disciple. James Dunn (2003, 210–254) has demonstrated the oral origin of several Gospel texts, and has shown by comparing the texts that while the essential points of a particular story do not change, supporting and background details may. Importantly, these oral versions date to an earlier time than the date given to the written Gospels, and thus there is a strong likelihood that many originated with Jesus. In textual analysis it is therefore crucial to take this into account when judging whether variations between parallel texts have resulted from redaction or not. Dunn (2003, 406) has also pointed out that, in contrast to isolated sayings, themes are much less subject to alteration by redaction. Thus, over the past decade there has been an about-turn in Jesus research for some of those engaged in textual analysis, so that instead of dissecting individual pericopes and indeed words and phrases, they are more likely to engage with broad themes.9 My methodology for gleaning information from the Gospel material is based on the following two-pronged approach, which 1) identifies key themes in Jesus’ ministry, and 2)  compares and contrasts similar events and sayings between Gospels deemed independent of each other. Thus part i (chapters 1 to 3) of this book takes up themes concerning messiahship, kingdom of God, wealth, healing and nature miracles, and spiritual practice, and also closely examines pericopes from Gospels considered to be literarily distinct compositions, for example Mark and John.10 These pericopes are clearly based on earlier Jesus traditions of an oral nature and provide sound evidence of authenticity, with an early date most likely in Jesus’ lifetime. The links between Mark and John are of crucial importance in establishing how Jesus was viewed and what he was trying to achieve. This is especially so with reference to the last week of Jesus’ life, which is key to understanding the man and his objectives. In addition, the book of 8 9 10

Seeking the Identity of Jesus (2008) edited by Gaventa and Hays. See Allison 1998, 45–52; 2010. [With regard to John] ‘It is clear that there is no direct literary relationship to any of the other three [Gospels], as there is among the Synoptics. Yet even when his reshaping is dramatic, John also clearly draws from the traditions shared by the other three’ (L. T. Johnson 2010, 102).

Introduction

5

Acts and especially the Letter of James corroborate the evidence gleaned from the canonical Gospels concerning Jesus’ spirituality and legacy. This legacy is, I believe, what stimulated and enabled the disciples and, later, other followers to carry on working in his name. Contemporary Dead Sea Scroll (DSS) material and the work of the first-century Jewish historian Josephus have also been used to bolster my arguments. However, rabbinic material from the second century ce onwards has not been used as in the main we cannot be sure whether it is applicable to the time of Jesus. I believe that long-standing discontent in first-century Palestine brought Jesus to the fore in proclaiming the imminence of God (eschaton/ kingdom of God) and in ministering to the poor. Thus the aim of this book (part i – textual; part ii – archaeological) is to view Jesus within his Jewish environment in order to determine the tensions and anxieties that he and the people were experiencing. To achieve this aim the following objectives will be undertaken: 1. To evaluate the documentary evidence for discontent at the time of Jesus (chapter 1) 2. To gauge Jesus’ behaviour towards the Temple and the chief priests in the last week of his life (chapter 2) 3. To determine to what degree the personality and teaching of Jesus influenced his disciples to continue his cause post-Easter (chapter 3) 4. To explore socio-economic versus halachic explanations for the distribution of ethnic/purity indicators between Judea and Galilee (chapter 4) 5. To assess the nature and prevalence of infectious disease in early Palestine (chapter 5) 6. To compare and contrast levels of wealth intra and inter firstcentury Galilean and Judean settlement sites (chapter 6) 7. To integrate the textual and archaeological findings at the end of each archaeological chapter (4 to 6) in order to challenge or support the claims made in the individual chapters (parts i and ii), and to reach a resolution which is further underlined in the Conclusion. Each numbered objective (1–6) will be addressed with reference to a specific chapter of the same number, as shown. Objective 7 links each textual chapter to an archaeological one as follows: chapter 1–chapter 6; chapter 2–chapter 4; chapter 3–chapter 5. In this book, unless otherwise stated, I have used the New International Version of the Bible and the Loeb Classical Library for translations of the works of the Jewish historian Josephus.

Part I MEMORIES OF JESUS: THE TEXTUAL EVIDENCE

1 Discontent in Early First-Century Galilee and Judea

Eschatology does not flourish in a politically and socially secure world. People living in circumstances of peace and prosperity look forward optimistically to a predictable and safe future. Uncertainty, danger and continuous political and social unrest generate the eschatological atmosphere and the consequent eschatological outlook. (Geza Vermes 2005, 68)

Introduction: The Historical Background Geza Vermes made the important point that eschatology1 is not a feature of a secure society but rather that of a politically and socially unstable one. In relation to the ‘eschatological world view’ at the time of Jesus with reference to the Dead Sea Scrolls and the New Testament, he described the Jewish way of thinking as being ‘speculative’ or ‘inspirational’, the former focusing on the timing of the eschaton (end time) while the latter centred on how individuals would respond to its arrival.2 The Qumran community, responsible for the Dead Sea literature, had separated from society to live in the desert, where, waiting patiently for God’s intervention, they observed a strict set of rules.3 In contrast, there is a strong sense of urgency surrounding the exhortations of John the Baptist and 1

2 3

‘The word eschatology refers to the study of final or last things. In Jewish and Christian theology it usually refers to God’s final accomplishment of his purposes. Some day in the future, things will be very different’ (C. A. Evans 2007, 40). Vermes 2005, 69. The sect probably set up in the first half of the second century bce (200–150 bce) under the leadership of an individual named ‘the Teacher of Righteousness’ (Magness 2012b, 124). Importantly, ‘the pottery found in the settlement and in the scroll caves includes

9

10

Memories of Jesus: The Textual Evidence

the teachings of Jesus, which encouraged the people to repent and turn to the kingdom of God through right conduct. And it is this strong eschatological vein portrayed in Jesus’ teaching that raises questions concerning the nature and degree of instability being experienced by the men, women, and children inhabiting Galilee and Judea. In the present chapter this will be examined against the backdrop of early Jewish history, starting with the Assyrian conquest of Galilee in the eighth century bce and ending with the Roman domination of first-century Palestine (Galilee and Judea). The focus will be on two strong themes running through the Gospels, themes which embody a distinct eschatological flavour: 1) the advent of a Messiah, and 2) the establishment of the kingdom of God. As a result of their attacking the southern kingdom of Judah, the Israelites of the northern kingdom (Galilee) were conquered by the Assyrians in 722/1 bce.4 Archaeological surveys indicate that subsequently there was a massive depopulation of the region in both Upper and Lower Galilee. Only in the Persian period was there a resurgence of settlements considerably influenced by Phoenicians pressing in from the coast, in conjunction with settlers, possibly Gentiles, using Galilean Coarse Ware in the east, most of the evidence pertaining to Upper Galilee. Hence, it is clear that the Galileans contemporary with Jesus had not descended from the Israelites of the northern kingdom. The population steadily increased throughout the Hellenistic period, again with reference to Upper Galilee. In the early first century bce, Galilee was annexed into the Hasmonean kingdom of Judea (see below) and there is considerable material evidence that earlier pagan influences were eradicated (the rejection of Phoenician/Galilean Coarse Wares and pagan religious symbols) and Jewish ethnicity established, as shown by finds of Hasmonean coinage and new settlements. The settlers were Jews from Hasmonean Judea and this is further reinforced by the commonality of ethnic indicators between the two regions (see chapter 4). Importantly, the Jews who had moved from Judea to settle in Galilee indubitably shared a common ancestry and heritage with their Judean counterparts, as described below.5

4

5

types that are virtually unique to Qumran’ and this includes the jars that the scrolls were found in Magness (2002, 44). Thus this evidence underlines the fact that the Qumran inhabitants produced and stored the scrolls. This paragraph is based on:  Chancey 2002, 167–170; 2014, 112–118; Freyne 2006b, 38–39. The remainder of this section is largely based on the work of Horsley 1987, 50–54; 2005, 55–57; Miller 1987, 226–237; Riches 1990; Goodman 1996, 737–781; Grant 1996; Gabba 1999, 94–167; Freyne 2006b, 36–51; Arnold 2008, 23–39; Coogan 2011.

Discontent in Early First-Century Galilee and Judea

11

From the sixth century bce up to the time of Jesus, the Jewish nation was subject to considerable outside influence: firstly, through the conquests of the Babylonian (587 bce) and Persian (525 bce) empires; secondly, through those of Greece, embodied in the Ptolemaic (323–200 bce) and Seleucid dynasties (200–166/142 bce); and lastly by Rome (63 bce). During these centuries of foreign domination, it was apparent that the core tenets of the Judaic religion as expressed by the Mosaic covenant were not holding true; that is, despite observance of the law, the promised land was under alien control and was not a place where the righteous were rewarded and the wicked punished. Thus a new way of thinking emerged, inspired by the prophets. The Jews looked to an end time (eschaton) when things would be different, where the present age would give way to a new age, when Israel would be restored to her former glory by God’s intervention and his subsequent reign, and once more Israel would be free of her enemies. This eschatological outlook features in a considerable amount of Judaic literature, such as the books of Isaiah, Ezekiel, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi. And in the book of Daniel and some of the Dead Sea Scrolls signs are described that would signal such an event. Subsequent to the Babylonian Empire being toppled in 539 bce by the Persians, the exiled Jews were later repatriated to their homeland by King Cyrus, who also provided funds for rebuilding the Jerusalem Temple. However, the land remained a Persian province. There were great expectations that the pre-exilic and exilic prophecies would come true, that the glory of Yahweh would be revealed to all (Isaiah 52), that the Temple would be rebuilt (Ezra 1–2), and that a Davidic kingdom would be founded (Ezekiel 34:37). But this did not immediately happen. Indeed, much of what had been prophesied did not happen. Furthermore, the restoration community was suffering acutely through poverty, miserable harvests, corruption, and anxiety concerning invasion. So questions arose as to why this should be. Building on the prophecies of the exilic prophets, who had inspired the people with such hope for a return from exile, the prophets (Third Isaiah, Haggai, and Zechariah) forged a new vision of peace and security based on Israel’s renewed covenant with God. Thus the eschatological dimension in Jewish religion came to the fore.6 While Hellenistic colonization brought considerable cultural benefits to Israel, under the Seleucid dynasty life became unbearable due to heavy taxation, and especially the religious persecution of Antiochus IV Epiphanes (175–163 bce), who was bent on obliterating Judaism. Not 6

Arnold 2008, 28–29.

12

Memories of Jesus: The Textual Evidence

only did this tyrant forbid circumcision and recognition of the Sabbath, he ordered the Jews to make sacrifices to pagan gods and even to eat pork; if they refused to accede to these demands they were subjected to the most appalling cruelty (2 Maccabees 6–7). The final blow came with the desecration of the Temple, which was rededicated to Zeus in 167 bce (2 Maccabees 6). The atrocities suffered by the Jews swiftly led to the Maccabean Revolt7 (167 bce) and the founding of the Hasmonean dynasty. A free Jewish state was eventually established in 142/141 bce, and, apart from one minor Seleucid incursion, lasted for eighty years. Thus Galilee and Judea were united under the same native kingship, and from this time the term Judean referred to all practising Jews with reference to Temple obligations. Eschatological theologies very much intensified during this period of Maccabean liberation. Indeed the book of Daniel (written c. 160 bce) ‘strongly revives the old prophetic utopian assurance that Israel’s tribulation shall end when Yahweh’s kingdom comes into its own on the Last Day, and the enemies of his people shall be consigned to anguish and affliction’ (Grant 1996, 213). In 63 bce the Hasmonean dynasty was reduced to civil war by conflict between two brothers, Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, both of whom contested the kingship. However, just at this time, the Roman republic was expanding its territory over the Mediterranean having defeated Seleucid Syria, which became the Roman province of Syria. The brothers naively asked the Romans to intercede and solve their dispute. In response the Roman general Pompey, together with his armies, marched on Jerusalem and instigated a shocking bloodbath. Pompey further stamped his mark by entering the ‘holy of holies’ in the Jerusalem Temple, a callous and blasphemous act that caused outrage and despair. The devastated Jewish people turned, as before in difficult times, to literature. For example, some of the Psalms of Solomon composed in the first century bce8 express their deep grief and fury at Pompey, and censure of those who had been complicit in the Roman invasion (for example Psalm of Solomon 2 where Pompey is referred to as a dragon [v. 25]). But more, the Psalms of Solomon also express an eschatological viewpoint whereby ‘the Davidic Messiah will enter Jerusalem, banish the gentiles and also Jewish sinners (especially the Hasmonean priests), and establish the new

7

8

The Maccabean Revolt was so named because it was led by a family of that name: the word ‘Maccabee’ may mean ‘hammerers’ (Grant 1996, 210). Atkinson 2004.

Discontent in Early First-Century Galilee and Judea

13

Israel, with the tribes reassembled, as an ideal kingdom’ (Sanders 1992, 285 referring to Psalm of Solomon 17). Judea was reduced to a Roman client state under Roman suzerainty. The Romans had supported one of the brothers, John Hyrcanus II, and it is notable that his main advisor was the Governor of Idumea, Herod Antipater, the father of Herod the Great. When the Parthians invaded Judea in 40 bce, Hyrcanus was dethroned, and Herod, Antipater’s son and Governor of Galilee, fled to Rome. The Roman government through Mark Anthony made a treaty with this Herod whereby they agreed to his kingship of Judea; as a Roman ally he would be a useful buffer against the nearby Parthian Empire. After a series of bloody battles Herod managed to defeat Aristobulus II, who had seized the throne, and also won over a considerable area of territory in Palestine stretching from Idumea in the Negev to Iturea in the north, together with new land in the north-east.9 Herod the Great died in 4 bce having reigned for thirty-three years. His state was divided between his three remaining sons: Archelaus was to rule over Judea; Herod Antipas over Galilee and Peraea; and Philip over Batanaea, Trachonitis, and Auranitis in northern Transjordan. But no son held the title of king:  kingship had ended with Herod the Great. And unlike Herod the Great, who was a Roman citizen, no son held Roman citizenship. In 6 ce Archelaus was deposed and Judea became a Roman province. Jesus’ mission came to the fore halfway between the Jewish revolts of 4 bce and 66–70 ce, when Jerusalem and the Temple were destroyed by Rome. That of 4 bce ensued from the death of Herod the Great and the brutal rule of Archelaus, who incited rebellion after massacring pilgrims in the Temple.10 According to the Jewish historian Josephus, the Romans fiercely put down the rebellion in Judea and also Galilee, and in the process destroyed villages, enslaving and crucifying thousands of people;11 he also claimed towns were set on fire, such as Sepphoris in Galilee.12 Apocalyptic literature (for example the book of Daniel and the Psalms of Solomon)13 was popular in the two hundred years before Jesus’ birth; 9 10 11 12

13

Hull and Jotischky 2009, 80–81. Jensen 2014, 62. Josephus, Jewish War ii.4–13; Jewish Antiquities xvii.213–218. Josephus, Jewish War ii.68–69; Jewish Antiquities xvii.289. However, there is to date no archaeological evidence that Sepphoris was put to the torch. In general, apocalyptic literature dates from approximately 200 bce to 200 ce. Dunn 1990, 310 provides useful and current definitions:  apocalypse (literary genre), apocalypticism (social ideology), and apocalyptic eschatology (a set of ideas present in other genres and social settings). However, there has been much debate as how to define

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these earlier apocalypses can be considered ‘resistance literature’  – a response to the terrible conditions forced onto the people terrorized by the invading and occupying forces of the Seleucid and Roman empires.14

The Messiah When the men came to Jesus, they said, ‘John the Baptist sent us to you to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” ’ At that very time Jesus cured many who had diseases, sicknesses and evil spirits, and gave sight to many who were blind. So he replied to the messengers, ‘Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.’ (Luke 7:20–23/Matthew 11:2–6)

In the first century of the Common Era many Jews believed that the eschaton was imminent. However, in discussing the finer points of first-century Judaism it should be emphasized that there were many viewpoints in circulation, and one should think more in terms of a diverse Judaism rather than one holistic Judaism,15 although certainly there was an underlying and identifiable common Judaism.16 And with respect to the eschaton there was also a wide range of opinions amongst the Jews as to how this would manifest.17 In itemizing the main beliefs of firstcentury Jews at the time of Jesus, James Dunn (2003, 399) states: ‘much of the eschatological expectation … was hope for a continued “thisworldly” existence – the diaspora returned to the Promised Land, Israel triumphant over the nations, paradise restored, perhaps, but on earth’. Some mention is made of a messianic figure and this is highly noteworthy given the scant reference to messianism in the Judaic literature of 500 to 200 bce.1819 Whilst this figure is referred to as a priest, prophet,

14

15 16 17 18 19

apocalyptic literature as a whole, and indeed whether we should. The best approach is that of John J. Collins (2014, 5), who states that ‘classic Jewish and Christian apocalypses are characterized not only by the theme of revelation but also by the prominence of the supernatural world and of eschatology’. See Portier-Young 2011; 2014, 150–162 (for Seleucid Judea: 188–173 bce) and Horsley 2010 (covering the Hellenistic and Roman periods). Riches 1990, 30; Wright 1992, 244. Sanders 1992, 48–76, 195. Sanders 1992, 289–303; Dunn 2003, 393–396. Collins 1995, 22–48, cited by Dunn 2003, 619. The remainder of this paragraph is based on Dunn 2003, 399, 619–622.

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or king, the most commonly occurring form is that of a king or Messiah. As already stated in the introduction, such a Royal Messiah is referred to in Psalm of Solomon 17:21–24, dated to the first century bce, and probably arose as a consequence of the demise of the Hasmonean kingship, which had filled Israel with such hope. And mention of a Royal Messiah occurs in the Dead Sea Scroll (DSS) literature of Jesus’ time (see below), and already in certain psalms of the canonical Psalter (Royal Messianic Psalms 2, 72, 89, and 132).20 In the first century, it would also appear some people were setting themselves apart from common society, alone or in groups, to live in the Judean Desert and the Jordan area in an attempt to find redemption and to await the messianic arrival. For example, as mentioned above, the sectarian community identified at Qumran near the Dead Sea, most likely Essenes, practised an ascetic way of living in contrast to the luxurious lifestyles of the rich in Jerusalem.21 John the Baptist spearheaded another faction and urged the people to repentance through baptism in the River Jordan (Mark 1:4–5; Matthew 3:1–6; Luke 3:2–3; John 1:26–28).22 It is clear that John’s renewal movement was still active after his death, as evidenced by the passages in Acts 18:24–25 and 19:1–7. This is a strong indication of not only the popularity of such movements in the early first century but the extent of their influence. Most importantly, John was offering a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins involving only one baptism, in contrast to the ritual sacrifice in the Temple, repeated as required, and it is possible that this was a major factor leading to his captivity and death.23 That this baptism originated with John is supported by the fact that the New Testament does not use the previously underlined phrase for Christian baptism; indeed it would be odd if the early church had ascribed such power to John.24 In late Second Temple Judaism, as in the Old Testament, ‘prophetic actions were highly dramatic ways of 20

21

22

23

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In these psalms, ‘anointed’ refers to the anointed king, but probably not in a strict ‘messianic’ way, as later interpreted. Magness 2002; 2007. I  follow Magness (2011) who equates the Qumran community with the Essenes. However, there is evidence that Essenes also lived in towns and villages throughout Judea (Capper 2006, 472–502). Josephus describes following a recluse called Bannus who lived in the Judean desert and practised a remarkably similar lifestyle to John the Baptist (Life of Josephus 11–12). Wright states that what John was doing can only be seen as ‘a renewal, not a renewal of existing structures but a renewal aimed at replacing them’. Thus this would account for wider reasons than marital ones for John’s arrest (Wright 1996, 160; Dunn 2002, 458). Meier 1994, 53.

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conveying God’s will and purpose’ (Stanton 2002, 199). Undoubtedly, John was acting in the mode of an Old Testament prophet when through the medium of his baptism he was announcing a baptism with the Holy Spirit which would be undertaken by one greater than himself. But evidently he had no knowledge at that time that this would be Jesus. One point of difference between the two men was that, while John was portrayed as advocating repentance ahead of the apocalyptic intervention of someone greater than himself, Jesus is described as talking more of living in the moment and of judgement to come. When John the Baptist sends his disciples to ask Jesus if he is the one [the Messiah] (Luke 7:20–23/Matthew 11:2–6, see beginning of this section),25 Jesus responds by referring to a number of passages in Isaiah (Isaiah 26:19; 29:18, 19; 35:5–6; 42:7, 18; 61:1): the blind, lame, and deaf are being healed, the good news broadcast to the poor, and the dead are being raised.26 In comparing these pericopes with those in the Dead Sea Scroll 4Q521 (2:1–12), while 4Q521 makes reference to the same Isaiah passages it also ‘talks of a future Messiah and an eternal kingdom in almost the same breath’ (Dunn 2003, 448).27 So, contemporary with the time of Jesus, there was clearly an expectation of a Messiah who would fulfil the predictions of Isaiah. The correlation between the wording in 4Q521 and Jesus’ reply to John the Baptist strongly suggests that Jesus was remembered as having a distinct messianic consciousness. Indeed, Peter’s apparent confession that Jesus is the Messiah at Caesarea Philippi seems to support this (Mark 8:27–30; Matthew 16:13–16; Luke 9:18– 20),28 and for some scholars this confession has been claimed as a major watershed in Jesus’ ministry.29 Significantly, the Greek word for Messiah, Christos, came into use shortly after the crucifixion, as evidenced by Paul’s letters written in the 50s.30

25

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27 28

29 30

Earlier in their Gospels both Matthew (3:14) and Luke (1:41) have commented on Jesus’ status, so the ‘incongruity’ of John the Baptist’s question is ‘usually taken by biblical scholars as evidence that the gospel writers have preserved a primitive tradition and so likely to be authentic’ (Meggitt 2011, 18). Interestingly Jesus is also recalled as healing leprosy. Via a molecular analysis, leprosy (Hansen’s Disease) has been identified in the remains of a well-groomed man excavated from a first-century rock-cut tomb outside Jerusalem (see chapter 5, pp. 115–117). See also C. A. Evans 1995a, 128–129; 2000, 540. Dunn (2003, 644–645) states: ‘Overall the probability must be deemed quite high that in Mark 8:27–30 pars. we see recalled an episode within the mission of Jesus in which the issue of Jesus’ messiahship was raised.’ Manson 1935, 210. Bond 2012, 48.

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In contrast to Jesus’ healing miracles, Marcus Borg (1991, 67)  has suggested that the non-healing miracles or ‘nature miracles’ should be viewed through the ‘symbolic elements in these stories’, and as part of the church’s story about Jesus. Notwithstanding, this does not necessarily deny that there may be some historical authenticity to the accounts, stretching back to Jesus. This certainly would appear the case with reference to the Feeding of the Five Thousand – the only miracle attested in all four of the canonical Gospels (Mark 6:30–44; Matthew 14:13–21; Luke 9:10–17; John 6:5–13). The accounts of the miracle in Mark and John, literarily distinct Gospels, likely originated from earlier oral versions, and are in ‘verbal agreement’ with respect to numbers (200 denarii, 5 loaves, 2 fishes, 12 baskets, 5,000 partakers; Dunn 2003, 684–685). Jesus and his disciples had set out for a remote place in the desert, but had been followed and overtaken by many people who subsequently arrived before them. This would suggest that Jesus frequently visited this particular isolated spot. According to Mark’s version of events, which is highly symbolic, the crowd comprised five thousand men – men who had been directed to sit down on green grass in companies of hundreds and fifties – and after Jesus gave thanks to God for the food it was distributed by the disciples amongst the men. This has been interpreted by some scholars as representing more a ‘military operation’ as opposed to ‘a catering convenience’; indeed, the groups of fifty and groups of a hundred, denoting men from the various towns and villages in Galilee, are curiously reminiscent of the military units described as being deployed in the army of the Exodus.31 Additionally the green grass mentioned in Mark indicates that this event occurred during the Passover season, as the Evangelist John confirms (John 6:4). Moreover, there are notable parallels between the Markan pericope (6:34) and that of Numbers (27:15–17); in the former, Jesus has compassion on the milling masses ‘because they were like sheep without a shepherd’, while in the latter Moses asks God to provide the Israelites with a leader to take his place ‘so the Lord’s people will not be like a sheep without a shepherd’ (Montefiore 1962, 136).32 Thus it would appear that the Evangelist Mark is indicating that these men were lost and without a leader.

31 32

Montefiore 1962, 136. ‘The phrase “sheep without a shepherd” means, according to Old Testament usage, not a congregation without a leader, but “an army without a general, a nation without a national leader” ’ (Montefiore 1962, 136, citing T. W. Manson 1953, 70).

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When Jesus saw the large crowd, he responded not by teaching or healing but simply by supplying food – bread and fish. Mark (6:42) states that ‘they all ate and were satisfied’, while John (John 6:12) describes Jesus ordering the leftovers to be gathered after the crowd was replete. Surprisingly, there are no exclamations of amazement and awe in Mark, which one might expect if five thousand people had actually been fed with such a small amount of food. This contrasts greatly with other miracles, such as the exorcism of a man in the synagogue at Capernaum, where ‘news about him [Jesus] spread quickly over the whole region of Galilee’ (Mark 1:28).33 Importantly, Eric Eve (2002, 382) has demonstrated that the Exodus references in the feeding of the five thousand ‘lack the spectacular characteristics found in allusions to the Exodus miracles in other Jewish literature’. Indeed, the miracle is more closely associated with the feeding of the one hundred men with twenty loaves of barley bread by Elisha (2 Kings 4:42–44), a feeding that seems so much more feasible.34 Thus Jesus is likened to Elisha more than Moses. Moreover, the loaves mentioned in John’s Gospel are ones of barley (John 6:9).35 Clearly the miracle in Mark has an Exodus overlay, but the original story with reference to Elisha likely describes a ‘real Jesus’, someone who magnetized vast crowds and had the resources to ease their hunger.36 Thus it seems entirely plausible that a second feeding along these lines described in Mark may well have occurred (Mark 8:1–10). There is a link between the Gospels of Mark and John that is noteworthy.37 That the men were highly charged is supported by ensuing events. According to John, Jesus, knowing that they wished to make him king ‘by force’, withdrew alone to a mountain (John 6:15), but, according to Mark, not before swiftly and forcefully dispatching his disciples to Bethsaida by boat and dismissing the crowd (Mark 6:45).38 33

34

35 36

37 38

Sanders 1995, 156. The emotions described at the feeding contrast greatly with those portrayed when Jesus walked on water and stilled the storm; significantly, these scenes directly follow the miracle in both Gospels (Mark 6:48–51; John 6:17–21). Initially the disciples did not recognize Jesus coming towards them on the lake and were ‘terrified’, but, when they allowed him to enter the boat after he identified himself and told them not to be afraid, he calmed the storm and they were ‘amazed’. The Elisha story is not mentioned anywhere else in Second Temple literature (Eve 2002, 382). Eve 2009, 152. Eve 2002, 384: ‘The Fourth Gospel, which picks up the potential exodus echoes in this story most explicitly, uses them to make a polemical contrast between Jesus and Moses.’ Montefiore 1962, 139; Dunn 2003, 646. The reference to Jesus being made a ‘king’ in John’s Gospel is notable and strongly indicative that all is not well in Galilee. Just over thirty years earlier in 4 bce, Judas, son of Hezekiah, in Galilee, Simon in Perea, and Athronges in Judea were leaders who rebelled

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This connection between the two Gospel accounts, with the immediate separation of the disciples from the crowd in Mark, is highly significant. Indeed the political implications are clear, not to mention the messianic overtones, and are indicative of both the men’s and later the disciples’ misunderstanding of what Jesus was all about. Seemingly, the real miracle of the Feeding of the Five Thousand is that Jesus persuaded a large number of men not only to lay aside their grievances in order to sit down and share food with each other, an outdoor instance of his tablefellowship, but on his orders to disperse without question. Only a man who was respected and had authority could have controlled and defused this difficult situation. Certainly the Markan version of the story now viewed in context with that of John is redolent of a militant mass of Galilean men – men looking for a charismatic leader. The Evangelist Luke mentions that the feeding took place near Bethsaida and it may well be significant that this territory was ruled by Philip, not Herod Antipas.39 As Helen Bond underlines, talk of an alternative kingdom was potentially perilous, and this and the fact that Jesus was attracting huge gatherings would have made Herod Antipas and the Roman authorities ever more watchful. James Dunn (2003, 620–621) has also commented that mention of the revival of the House of David through a Royal Messiah occurs widely in a variety of Judaic texts at the turn of the era, when the Messiah is seen very much as a ‘warrior king’ fighting for justice, a king who would vanquish Israel’s enemies. He also notes that the military leader Bar Kokhba was hailed as Messiah in the Second Jewish Revolt of 132–135 ce. These observations have major implications for the previous interpretation of the Feeding of the Five Thousand, and also events occurring on the night of Jesus’ arrest. In both Mark’s and John’s Gospels those coming to arrest Jesus at Gethsemane are armed with weapons. And in both Mark’s and John’s Gospels one of the disciples has a sword: at the point of arrest this disciple cuts off the ear of the high priest’s servant. The specific details occur in Mark 14:43–47 and John 18:1–10. John identifies the disciple as Simon Peter, and given the way Peter is portrayed in the Gospels as a somewhat impulsive man this may well be true. Whether Jesus would or would not accept kingship is not the point I wish to make, although

39

against the tyranny of Roman rule on the death of Herod the Great; Josephus relates that all these men were ‘acclaimed king’ by their followers (Josephus, Jewish War ii.56, 57–59, 60–65; Jewish Antiquities xvii.271–272, 273–277, 278–284 cited by Horsley 2014c, 169–170). Bond 2012, 131–132.

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evidently he was reluctant. The key point is that a large number of people had been intent on making him their leader, and it would appear they were forceful in manner; this can only suggest that they were unhappy with their lot. The carrying and, more, the use of weapons demonstrates an aggressive stance that further underlines the Markan account and the discontent of the time. On the night Jesus was arrested, he was first taken to the high priest (Caiaphas)40 who interrogated him as to whether he was the Royal Messiah (King of the Jews), ‘the son of the Blessed One’ (Mark 14:61).41 The motive for asking this question appears to have been based on the main charge brought against Jesus  – that he threatened to destroy the Temple and rebuild it.42 Both the Evangelists Mark and John use the Greek word for ‘sanctuary’ rather than the one for ‘temple’; this may have been a deliberate device by these authors to make reference more to the ‘inner sanctuary containing the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies’ thus underlining the seriousness of the charge against Jesus.43 Importantly, James Dunn (2003, 633) has highlighted the findings of Otto Betz (1963; see also Betz 1968), who first pointed out the connection between the question and the Temple charge:  in 2 Samuel 7:12–14, the prophet Nathan promises King David ‘that he would have a son [son of David], who would build “a house for my name” [the Temple], and whom God would regard as his son [God’s son]’. In examining 4Q174, Betz realized that part of it (1:10–13) refers to 2 Samuel 7:12–14 and in addition identifies a royal Messiah, referred to as the ‘branch of David’. The scroll 40

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There is some confusion between the Evangelists concerning the name of the high priest who was in power at the time of Jesus: Matthew names Caiaphas; Mark remains silent; Luke indicates he was Annas; and John describes Caiaphas as being in an annually elected post, but Jesus’ trial taking place before Annas. Certainly the writers had their own agendas in writing which relate to the communities of their day. However, it should not be forgotten that in the early first century the high priests emanated from only four powerful families (see chapter 2); thus there is a strong likelihood that some interaction occurred between the former and influential high priest, Annas, and his successor Caiaphas. Indeed, Caiaphas was Annas’ son-in-law. Notwithstanding, a careful reading of Josephus indicates that Caiaphas would have been the high priest from 18 to 37 ce (Mason 1992, 130–131). Royal Messiah can be translated as ‘king of the Jews’ (Dunn 2003, 634). The ‘blessed one’ means God; Jews did not like referring directly to God. References to Jesus threatening to destroy the Temple are: Mark 14:58; Matthew 26:61; John 2:19; Acts 6:14. See the literary independence of the pericopes of Mark and John discussed in chapter  2 (‘Jesus, the Temple, and the Chief Priests’). In addition, this is referred to at the crucifixion (Mark 15:29; Matthew 27:39–40), and also in the charges brought against Stephen (Acts 6:14). Hooker 2001, 358.

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is contemporary with the time of Jesus and indicates that a messianic interpretation of Nathan’s prophecy was known. So it is possible that Caiaphas asked Jesus if he was attempting to fulfil Nathan’s prophecy by being the Messiah charged with rebuilding the Temple. However, the argument against this interpretation is that ‘there are no texts that predict the appearance of a messianic figure who first destroys (or predicts the destruction of) the Temple and then rebuilds it’ (C. A. Evans 1997, 409). Nevertheless, one incontrovertible fact is that Jesus was crucified as King of the Jews, and in the eyes of the Romans, and indeed of the high priesthood and Herod Antipas, as a messianic pretender. Having been abandoned by his disciples and condemned by the high priest, Jesus is finally brought before the Roman Governor. The question Pilate puts to Jesus is a loaded one: ‘Are you the king of the Jews?’ Jesus’ reply is measured: ‘You have said so.’44 Pilate, seemingly to satisfy the crowds, hands Jesus over for execution, whereupon he is cruelly mocked and tortured by the Roman soldiers with respect to his assumed kingly intentions, and publicly nailed to a wooden cross with the charge of his supposed crime written above him: ‘The King of the Jews’45 (Mark 15:26). One important point to note is that Jesus was the only one singled out from his movement and crucified; his disciples were not arrested and executed.46 Indeed, they stayed in Jerusalem in the aftermath of his death, and they also attended the Temple on a daily basis. Jesus was not a ‘political insurrectionist’: he was not a militant leader. If he had been his disciples would have been hunted down and killed. In conclusion of this section, the gravity of Pilate’s question and its implications should not be underestimated. Certainly, during Jesus’ lifetime there was a general awareness of the coming of a messianic figure in the contemporary Jewish literature. And this was a figure that would both liberate and heal the people. Moreover, links have been identified between certain passages in the Gospels, Isaiah, and two of the Dead Sea Scrolls which support the idea that Jesus was identifiable as a Messiah, something he surely would have been conscious of. In charging Jesus with threatening the destruction of the Temple, and questioning his messianic pretensions, Caiaphas would have been acutely aware of the connection 44

45

46

References to Pilate’s question and Jesus’ answer are: Mark 15:2; Matthew 27:11; Luke 23:3; John 18:33–37. See also the literary independence of the pericopes of Mark and John discussed in chapter 2 (‘Jesus, the Temple, and the Chief Priests’). References to the sign on the cross of Jesus, King of the Jews are: Mark 15:26; Matthew 27:37; Luke 23:38; John 19:19, significantly occurring in both the Gospels of Mark and John. Fredriksen 2000, 11.

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between the book of Samuel and the DSS material. Nevertheless, the strongest evidence for Jesus being identified as a Messiah by the masses pertains to the pericopes of Mark and John immediately after the Feeding of the Five Thousand, where Jesus is depicted as acting speedily to calm a potentially dangerous situation. The demand for a king, particularly a ‘warrior king’, as defined by messianic expectations, underlines the unsettled nature of Galilean society. Jesus’ Eschatology: The Kingdom of God Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, ‘How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!’ The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again, ‘Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.’ (Mark 10:23–25)

In ancient Jewish literature, God is depicted as king – Israel’s king – and there was an expectancy that this kingship would ultimately embrace the world.47 The word ‘king’ frequently occurs in Jewish prayer, but Jesus almost always avoids calling God ‘king’48 – instead Jesus’ teaching pivots on the kingdom of God. And while Jesus is depicted in the Gospels as frequently using this term, the word ‘kingdom’ or phrase ‘kingdom of God’ rarely occurs in the Old Testament.49 Jesus and his disciples never explained what it meant in actuality,50 despite the fact that it forms a consistent theme linking many of the parables. This indicates that the term was readily understandable to not only Palestinian society in the first century but also Christians of the early Roman Empire. Yet there has been much debate amongst New Testament scholars concerning its meaning. According to the Evangelists, in general the term seems to embrace a number of different but related phenomena. It is something that is sought after, and in the process sacrifices are made to obtain it. It is something that can be possessed. It is something that can be entered. It is something that you cannot see. And its growth is compared with the growth of seeds and the rising of leaven. It is something that is happening. It is something about to happen. It is something coming in the future. It is something that has been revealed to the disciples. But the term was also 47 48 49 50

Dunn 2003, 390–392. Vermes 1994, 136; 2003, 35. The exceptions to this are in Matthew 5:34; 25:34. Dunn 1992, 7; Vermes 1993, 135; Chilton and Neusner 2004, 127, 131. Dunn 2003, 387–388.

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used, albeit sparingly, in connection with eternal life, and also the final divine intervention  – the eschaton. Putting these observations together, what we would appear to have is something that is priceless, powerful, and empowering. But what does this riddle mean in effect? Linguistically, the term ‘kingdom’ is best translated as ‘rule’, so ‘kingdom of God’ means ‘rule of God’.51 Graham Stanton (2002, 213–214) claimed that no other first-century prophet or teacher talked about the kingdom (God’s rule) so many times and in so many different ways as Jesus. Indeed this underlines how he always looked to God in all things. Taking the kingdom sayings as a whole, in conjunction with ‘dominant nuances’ from Old Testament, and Jewish writings contemporary with Jesus, Graham Stanton has attempted to encapsulate their meaning: ‘The kingdom of God is God’s kingly rule, the time and place where God’s power and will hold sway.’ He suggests that the concept of the kingdom of God represented ways of talking about ‘the reality of God’ and his relationship with Israel, since, unlike the Greeks, Jews never speculated on the essence of God. Indeed Jesus only mentions God as ‘Lord of heaven and earth’ in two passages (Luke 10:21/Matthew 11:25). Bruce Chilton (2005, 122) sees the term ‘Kingdom of God’ as a ‘contemporary catch-phrase’ which referred to God, and one that Jesus used to broadcast the presence and activity of God. One of the main questions raised with reference to Jesus’ ministry is when the kingdom would arrive. Thus some scholars have proposed that the kingdom was seen as something coming in the future,52 while others have suggested it was more imminent,53 even already present through Jesus’ ministry, as evidenced for example by his exorcisms (Mark 3:23– 27; Matthew 12:27–28; Luke 11:19–20).54 Schweitzer (1925) claimed that Jesus was talking about the end of the world  – that there would be an apocalyptic intervention by God. However, although Jesus’ words portrayed by the Evangelists are urgent, they do not resemble the sort of language found in Jewish apocalyptic literature.55 Dunn (2003, 479) has summarized the current state of research: ‘The more common way forward has been the synthesis between the thesis of Schweitzer’s “thoroughgoing eschatology” and the antithesis of Dodd’s “realized eschatology” provided 51 52 53 54 55

C. A. Evans 2007, 41. Schweitzer 1925. Jeremias 1967. Dodd 1935, 46. Chilton 2005, 116; Buttrick 2008, 428. Dunn (1992, 15) states: ‘There is a disturbing quality about the urgency of Jesus’ call, a shaking of the foundations which those who want nothing but a quiet life are bound to resent and resist.’

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by Jeremias’ inaugurated eschatology or “eschatology that is in process of realization”.’ Certainly, there are both present and future elements in Jesus’ kingdom teaching which cannot be ignored, especially those relating to the future, which have considerable ramifications. There appears a clear demarcation between the Synoptic Gospels and John whereby, in contrast to the former, the latter hardly contains any kingdom of God sayings and indeed demonstrates a ‘realized eschatology’. As Raymond Brown (1979, 51) states, ‘for the synoptic Gospels eternal life is a gift that one receives at the final judgement or in a future age (Mark 10:29–30; Matthew 18:8–9) but for John it is a present possibility (5:24)’. While the more frequently occurring temporal sayings, as opposed to spatial, are foremost in interpreting God’s kingship, the spatial sayings can be interpreted as being indicative of God’s rule; thus, ‘to enter, inherit or be in the kingdom means to be among the people who experience God’s kingly rule’ (Graham Stanton 2001, 59). This is exemplified by one of Jesus’ sayings concerning the difficulty of the rich entering the kingdom of God (Mark 10:23–25, see beginning of this section; Matthew 19:23–24; Luke 18:24–25). Those who pass through the needle are not entering a specific place but rather have become part of a community experiencing the rule of God. To pass through the needle or enter the kingdom [as well as repenting], an individual has to have particular qualities as advocated by Jesus. Thus Stanton is referring to discipleship, whether now or in the future: . . . to speak about God was to speak about his relationship to his people, and vice versa. In other words the kingdom of God always carried ethical implications. This is clearly implied in the sayings which refer to the individual’s response – sayings which refer to entry into the kingdom, or to the kingdom as something to be possessed or sought after. (Stanton 2002, 214)

Indeed, Manson (1935, 205)  compared Jesus’ sayings referring to entrance into the kingdom with those describing discipleship and found a strong concurrence: the qualities of a disciple including a childlike spirit, sacrifice, obedience, and loyalty to Jesus. Jesus left a vital legacy to his movement in the simple prayer he gave his disciples. The importance of the Lord’s Prayer cannot be overestimated both from an eschatological and socio-economic viewpoint. With reference to the Evangelists, Matthew’s version is characterized as ‘instructions on how to pray for people who do pray’, while that of Luke is an ‘encouragement to people who do not pray to do so’.56 Although attributed 56

Howard Marshall (2001, 115)  draws attention to Jeremias (1971, 193–195), who contrasts Matthew and Luke in the Lord’s Prayer.

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to Q57 by some scholars, these texts clearly have resulted from independent oral traditions handed down by the early church; furthermore, their liturgical nature has ensured much of the original wording has been preserved.58 This is the only prayer Jesus is known to have taught (Luke 11:2–4/ Matthew 6:9–13), the opening petitions of which resemble the Kaddish, thus reflecting Jesus’ Jewish roots.59 Jesus’ prayer is short compared with contemporary pagan and Jewish prayers; indeed, long prayers, communal or individual, were a normal feature of Jewish liturgies.60 Luke is considered the more authentic version with regard to length, and in contrast to Matthew’s formal ‘Our Father’ uses just ‘Father’, which stems from the Aramaic Abba, a term of greater intimacy; however, it is claimed that Matthew has the more original wording.61 One important point to notice is that the prayer centres on God as father, and that the disciple is being asked to approach God in a childlike sense. In allowing a disciple to address God as father, just like him, Jesus is empowering that disciple.62 And while the use of ‘father’ is not unique to Jesus, the number of times he used this term is. Joachim Jeremias Authorized King James Authorized King James (1967, 94–95) Version Matthew 6:9–15 Version Luke 11:2–4 After this manner therefore ‘Dear Father, And he said unto them, Hallowed be pray ye: ‘Our Father ‘When ye pray, say, Our thy name. which art in heaven, Father which art in Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy kingdom come. Thy Our bread for tomorrow/give will be done in earth, Thy will be done, as in us today. as it is in heaven. Give heaven, so in earth. Give And forgive us our us this day our daily us day by day our daily debts/as we also bread. And forgive us bread. And forgive us our herewith forgive our debts, as we forgive sins; for we also forgive our debtors. our debtors. And lead us every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into not into temptation, but And let us not succumb to deliver us from evil: For temptation; but deliver us thine is the kingdom, and temptation.’ from evil.’ the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

57

58 59 60 61 62

Q (quelle) is a hypothetical source comprising material shared by both the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Dunn 2003, 226–228. Vermes 1993, 141; Dunn 2003, 410. Finkel 2001, 62. Jeremias 1967, 93; Stanton 2002, 9. Jeremias 1967, 97.

26

Memories of Jesus: The Textual Evidence For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.’

The first petition of the Lord’s Prayer focuses exclusively on the kingdom yet to come. However, this would appear at odds with Stanton and Manson’s ideas of discipleship; those that follow Jesus’ teaching are already part of the kingdom. Further, Jesus’ successful exorcisms63 demonstrated the presence and power of the kingdom. Bearing in mind the wide-ranging definitions of the term kingdom, Dunn (2003, 410) has suggested that this petition indicates either the kingship of God had yet to be fully implemented, or that God would ultimately act for his people. In the former case not all the population had repented and turned to God through Jesus, while in the latter, the final intervention and judgement of God – the eschaton – is implied. In the Authorized King James Version of the Bible the forgiveness petition reads somewhat differently in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, in that both parts of the petition in Matthew indicate that the accent is on debt forgiveness, while Luke mentions sin forgiveness in the first part of the petition but debt forgiveness in the second part. The Greek word

63

Demon possession constituted any form of mental illness, and in Second Temple Judaism belief in demons was rife (Dunn 1975, 46). With respect to Jewish magical practices of the period, exorcism is the most well proven (Bohak 2008, 88), and indeed formed a significant part of Jesus’ ministry in that it was seen to herald a new age of God’s reign. In fact, his success was never in question, only who was instrumental in the healing – Satan or God! Hollenbach (1981) first proposed that the demoniacs in the Gospels represented a resistance to Roman colonization in that they turned their anti-Roman feelings inwards rather than outwards, for fear of reprisal if they did indeed confront the invading force. In other words the demons constituted the Roman soldiers. This line of thought was later taken up by others, including Horsley (1987, 184–190; 2005, 63–68), to argue for a Galilee that was severely repressed due to Roman domination. In particular, the healing of the Gerasene demoniac was interpreted in this way (Mark 5:1–20). This is an attractive theory particularly in light of the man calling himself ‘Legion’. However, the account has been seriously questioned by Meier (1994, 666–667), who pointed out that Gerasa was a Hellenistic city in the Decapolis and would have been well disposed towards Rome; therefore, it was highly unlikely the Roman legions would have appeared threatening to the people. Furthermore, the Roman occupation of Galilee is not apparent until the second century ce and the considerable archaeological evidence is suggestive of a thriving economy (see chapter 6).

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ὀφείλημα usually means debts or obligations to other people, rather than sins translated as ἁμαρτίας. It is ‘very unusual for the New Testament to use ὀφείλημα (or its cognates) to refer to sin’; indeed ‘the use of “debt” in relation to sin-forgiveness between people is very unusual when compared to the rest of the Gospels, the New Testament, or indeed wider Greek literature’ (Drake 2014, 239). The main vehicle for Jesus’ teaching  – the parables – consists of figurative narratives using images from nature and daily life.64 Jesus was clearly referring to sin forgiveness by using the word debt and its derivatives as a metaphor. However, the unusual way of expressing ‘sin’ via debt language hints that debts and debtors were part of the Galilean landscape. Joseph Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI (2007, 151–152), draws attention to Cyprian (c. 200–258 ce), who pointed out that those petitioning for today’s bread could only have been the poor, and that asking for our bread signifies the importance of sharing in a community, both in giving and receiving. However, the Greek word epiousios (daily) is difficult to translate as it is not found in Greek literature of the early Christian period; there are two possible interpretations, literal (bread for survival), and spiritual (bread for the future) (p. 154). Certainly, for the early church, there is an eschatological dimension to this petition (see below), but the petition clearly originated in a context where there was much emphasis on basic needs (Matthew 7:9). So the Lord’s Prayer clearly focuses on the needs of the poor:  the desire for the kingdom to manifest, for justice to triumph, for bread now rather than tomorrow, and steadfastness with regard to temptation. Significantly, the petition for bread underlines the prevailing socioeconomic conditions of the time. Further, it was only thirty years later after the crucifixion when there was a major Jewish rebellion, and the debtors’ archive was destroyed in Jerusalem. Martin Goodman (1982, 417–427; 1987, 51–75; 2002, 16)  has underlined the major economic factor that triggered the inception of this unrest in Judea in the early part of the first century ce  – the rich acquiring the land of peasants in lieu of their debts, debts that these farmers were forced to take out in order to survive poor harvests.65 This important point is developed further in chapter 2, in relation to the chief priests.

64 65

Dodd 1935, 22; Shillington 1997, 15; Bailey 1998, 30. Goodman cites Josephus (Jewish War vii.260–261), who ‘speaks of a universal sickness in Judaea from a.d. 6, which led the rich to oppress the masses and the masses to plunder the rich’.

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Yet the Lord’s Prayer was regarded with awe by the early church.66 As already stated, the Aramaic word for father is Abba, and the fact that Mark and Paul use the word in Greek texts written for the Gentiles demonstrates exceptional respect.67 It was not commonly used in prayer in Palestine, as evidenced by Paul (Romans 8:15 and Galatians 4:6), who considered it a special prayer marking those who had received the Spirit.68 And Paul’s comments are of immense significance in attempting to interpret the primary meaning of the prayer, since all his letters date to the 50s, ‘around 20 years after the death of Jesus’ (Bond 2012, 48). In the context of the early church, the second petition, best translated as ‘our bread for tomorrow give us today’, is more indicative of a spiritual nature, possibly signifying the ‘heavenly banquet to come’ or a remembrance of the manna given to the Israelites when they were crossing the desert to the Promised Land.69 The Exodus connection in Jesus’ mission should not be underrated. Certainly, the prayer has an eschatological tone to it: the kingdom in its entirety lies in the future, and therefore forgiveness of others is likely linked to the final judgement. However, it is evident that it is extremely difficult to enter the kingdom, as reflected by the Q70 parable of the Narrow Entrance (a door in Luke 13:24; a gate in Matthew 7:13–14).71 In other words, to follow Jesus and hold to his teachings was exacting. The general turmoil hinted at in the Feeding of the Five Thousand is suggestive of this, where the mission of Jesus was badly misunderstood (see above). Jesus is also remembered as becoming increasingly frustrated with the overall response that he was receiving from the people in Galilee, and this is exemplified in a number of passages from Q (Luke 10:13–15/Matthew 11:20–24). ‘Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon at the judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be lifted to the heavens? No, you will go down to Hades.’ (Luke 10:13–15)

66 67 68 69 70 71

Jeremias 1967, 85. Thompson 2001, 48. Dunn 1996, 27. Jeremias 1971, 199–201; Davies and Allison 1988, 1.609–610. See note 57. Clearly these texts originate from an oral tradition (Dunn 2003, 232–234):  ‘These are … teachings remembered as teachings of Jesus in the way that oral tradition preserved such teaching: the character and emphasis of the saying is retained through stable words and phrases, while the point is elaborated in ways the reteller judged appropriate to the occasion.’

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James Dunn (2003, 421) has pointed out that the only known mission to Galilee was undertaken by Jesus, and that it would be implausible to believe that his followers would be more frustrated than he at the rejection of his message by these towns.72 That the people refused to follow him is also indicated by John’s Gospel (John 6:60, 66): ‘many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him’. Moreover, there is no doubt that Jesus is recalled as having talked a great deal about judgement, and about being accountable for one’s actions; this is a major thread running through the Gospels, for example in the parables of Entrusted Money in Q (Luke 19:12–26/Matthew 25:14–30), and the Unmerciful Servant in Matthew (18:21–35).73 Outcomes in heaven (Luke 13:28/Matthew 8:11– 12),74 referred to as the kingdom of God, or Hades (Luke 10:15/ Matthew 11:23) are mentioned. But there are also disturbing passages describing a final reckoning, such as in Q (Luke 12:58–59/Matthew 5:25–26) and the chilling passage from Luke quoted above, which firmly underline the eschatological nature of Jesus’ mission. Importantly, John J.  Collins (2008, 47)  has pointed out that the ‘expectation of post-mortem judgement is at the heart of apocalyptic eschatology and is the main element that distinguishes it from the eschatology of the Hebrew prophets’. John the Baptist falls within this bracket, the focus of his preaching being an imminent and final judgement by fire (Matthew 3:10–12), and certainly Jesus’ teaching of the kingdom of God was of an apocalyptic nature but differed from mainstream beliefs in that it incorporated a realized eschatology and had no systematic view of the future.75 Albert Schweitzer, a key proponent of ‘thoroughgoing eschatology’, was convinced that Jesus believed God was about to make a dramatic appearance in human affairs and that this would be the culmination to his ministry.76 However, Schweitzer based his proposal on only the kingdom of God motif and did not take into consideration,

72

73

74

75 76

Tyre and Sidon are not the first-century cities but those railed against by the Old Testament prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel (Davies and Allison 1991, 267). This parable is considered to have originated with Jesus (Davies and Allison 1991, 794; Hultgren 2000, 29). The servant although forgiven much debt would not forgive another who owed him very little; as a result he was imprisoned and tortured until he remunerated his master. Dunn (2003, 427) suggests that Jesus was referring to ‘hope of life beyond death’ with reference to the following kingdom passages:  drinking wine in the kingdom of God (Mark 14:25) and reclining at table with Abraham in the kingdom (Matthew 8:11–12; Luke 13:28–29). Dunn 1990, 317. Schweitzer 1906.

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among other things, Jesus’ unique and close relationship with God as his Father.77 This relationship is key to understanding an important and vital part of Jesus’ ministry – his spirituality and prayer life. Notwithstanding, it is evident that there is a strong element of urgency running through the Synoptic Gospels concerning the imminent advent of the new kingdom. This, taken with Jesus’ action and comments concerning the Temple in the last week of his life, suggests that at this time he was especially emboldened to speak out against corruption and greed. This will be the subject of the next chapter (chapter 2). In conclusion of this section:  firstly, it is important to remember that the concept of the kingdom of God was used first and foremost by Jesus to focus on God – the power of God – and not on himself. This is a point that is all too often overlooked in Jesus studies. Secondly, Bill T.  Arnold (2008, 24) has pointed out that ‘Old Testament eschatology is not primarily individual eschatology in that it is seldom specific about the final fate of the individual as opposed to national or universal eschatology, which are often blended together in the Old Testament’. However, Jesus’ eschatology was about the individual, and a choice had to be made whether or not to obey his teaching and follow him, and thus ultimately become part of the new world order, in infinitely better conditions than before, with God at the focal point. But Jesus also saw the nation as important. He chose twelve disciples to symbolize the original twelve tribes of Israel, unequivocally associating his idea of the coming kingdom of God with the restoration of Israel, and in the process not only challenged potential followers with his demands but also the authorities of the day, both Jewish and Roman. Therefore, I agree with Cohen’s definition: ‘while the piety of pre-exilic Israel centred on the group the piety of second temple Judaism centred on both the group and the individual’ (Cohen 1989, 22). Certainly the Lord’s Prayer, dating back to Jesus on account of its liturgical nature (see above), is indicative of the economic hardships of the poor, the initial emphasis being for the kingdom to appear. What is interesting and seems to get glossed over by scholars, however, is Jesus’ utter exasperation and anger, later in his mission, when the people refuse to follow his teaching. In other words, they refuse to follow him, yet at the Feeding of the Five Thousand they evidently want him as their leader. This strongly suggests that he is not acting as a king, much less the ‘warrior king’ mentioned by contemporary Jewish texts. Instead, he warns about judgement and retribution to come, and this emphasizes that his 77

Drane 1986, 118.

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whole ministry is based on the eschaton – the coming of better times – the coming of God’s kingdom. Jesus as prophet is utterly focused on God, a God that in his mind would ultimately act for the good of Israel. Summary For five hundred years or more prior to the birth of Jesus, Palestine had in the main been subject to rule by other nations. Culminating in the Roman invasion, this had left the Jewish people deeply traumatized to the extent that in the first century ce the concept of the eschaton was very much in the air. There is substantial evidence that there was discontent among the people: the cumulative evidence from Josephus, the Dead Sea Scrolls, certain apocalypses, and the Evangelists, especially Mark and John, supports this. Firstly, many had located in the desert in order to gain redemption and await a messianic deliverance. Secondly, clearly a large crowd wanted Jesus as their leader, even their king, and tried to coerce him into this. This hints at some urgency in the matter. Thirdly, while the Lord’s Prayer has strong spiritual overtones, it does inform us that Jesus’ mission was aimed at the poor and downtrodden, those who were seeking justice and awaiting better times. Fourthly, Jesus’ proclamation of the kingdom of God when viewed in historical context signifies all is not well. He is the last in a long line of Hebrew prophets exhorting the people to turn around (repent) and return to God, so that all would be well, and Israel would be restored to her former glory. With regard to detecting discontent and indeed poverty, the evidence presented here in chapter  1 (textual) appears to conflict with that of chapter 6 (archaeological). Thus the material in chapter 1 is referenced in at the end of chapter 6.

2 Jesus, the Temple, and the Chief Priests

Jesus then began to speak to them in parables … ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvellous in our eyes.’ Then the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders looked for a way to arrest him because they knew he had spoken the parable against them. (Mark 12:1, 10–12)

Introduction The Herodian Temple far surpassed every other temple in the ancient world in terms of grandeur and scale (Figure 2.1). And underlying this grandeur was an engineering feat of breathtaking audacity:  the extension of the original Temple platform constructed at the highest point in Jerusalem, and the concomitant building of massive stone revetments still visible in, for example, the Kotel or Western Wall (Figure 2.2). Each stone in the dry masonry construction is of a considerable size and weight, with some approaching 120 tons, but four are astonishingly large, especially the Western Stone.1 As James H. Charlesworth (2014b, 147) states: The stupendous nature of such large stones needs to be contextualized. The largest stones in the Temple Mount dwarf those used in the construction of Egypt’s

1

Bahat 1999, 44–46. The stones were limestone ashlars.

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33

Figure  2.1 The Temple in the first century ce. From the Holyland Model of Jerusalem. Courtesy of Zev Radovan/BibleLandPictures.com massive pyramids. No stone in the pyramids weighs over seventy tons. And no stone used by the builders with massive equipment today weighs over one hundred tons. Yet, the stone put in place by builders just before Jesus’ birth weighs about 570 tons [Western Stone]. Herod’s Temple Mount in Jerusalem was the largest in the ancient world, being more than twice the size of Trajan’s later temple in Rome.

These retaining walls are all that is left of the Temple which was burnt to the ground by Titus in 70 ce during the rebellion of the Jews against Roman rule (Figure  2.2). In order to appreciate the magnificent architecture and decoration, we are reliant on textual sources, the most important being that of Josephus, who provides an eyewitness account. The splendour of the Temple proper could be seen from afar: a mountain of snow fronted by sheets of gold which at dawn reflected the rising sun’s rays, dazzling the naked eye (Jewish War v.222–223).2 Indeed Pliny the Elder himself referred to Jerusalem as ‘the most famous city of the East’.3 As well as emphasizing the enormous amount of space for worshippers in the main courts of the Temple, as compared with the inner areas of 2

3

A detailed description of the Temple is provided by Sanders (1992, 55–70). See also Goodman 2005, 459–68 and the papers in Charlesworth 2014a. Natural History 5.15.70. Simon Gathercole, pers. comm.

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Figure 2.2 The Western Wall of the Temple Mount. Courtesy of Zev Radovan/ BibleLandPictures.com

pagan temples, Martin Goodman (2005, 459–468; 2007b, 51)  intriguingly draws our attention to the sounds and smells emanating from the building: Levites singing, trumpet blasts, and ‘the constant sound of animals on the way to slaughter’ giving ‘a distinctive smell to the place, overlain with the scent of roast meat’. The Temple was the repository of enormous riches in the late Second Temple period and included money from taxes, tithes, and substantial private donations.4 While it did not function as a bank in the commercial sense, it did provide a safety deposit for the valuables of the wealthy, 4

Josephus, Jewish War i.152, vii.148–151, vi.387–392; 2 Maccabees 3:4–6, 10–15; 4 Maccabees 4:1–37.

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particularly in troubled times.5 The annual payment of the half-shekel tax for the maintenance of the Temple brought in a colossal revenue, and every Jewish male (twenty years or more), whether in Israel or the diaspora, was expected to pay this. This is underlined by Josephus who quoted the future emperor Titus as saying: ‘we [Romans] allowed you to occupy this land and set over you kings of your own blood; then we maintained the laws of your forefathers and permitted you, not only among yourselves but also in your dealings with others, to live as you willed; above all we permitted you to exact tribute for God [the Temple tax] and to collect offerings, without either admonishing or hindering those who brought them – only that you might grow richer at our expense and make preparations with our money to attack us! [my italics]’ (Jewish War vi.333–336). Some idea of the vast scale of this wealth is indicated by Josephus when he relates that it was used as payment for 18,000 unemployed workmen, laid off after the completion of the building of the Temple c. 64/5 ce, who were then directed to pave the city streets with white stone; moreover, through this means the money was prevented from falling into Roman hands.6 Certainly the treasury was looted on occasion, as for example by Gessius Florus, the last Roman procurator before the Jewish Revolt of 70 ce, who seized 17 talents of silver.7 Jewish–Roman relations clearly took a swift downward turn subsequent to this event. After Herod the Great died in 4 bce his kingdom was divided among his three less able sons. Archelaus was made Tetrarch of Judea but due to his cruel and impetuous nature was banished by the Romans in 6 ce. Judea then became a Roman province governed by Rome with the Roman prefects and procurators usually residing in Caesarea. However, the high priest8 and his council, comprising a large part of the Jewish aristocracy, exercised control over Jerusalem.9 Importantly, the high priest carried the heavy responsibility for preserving law and order, an onerous task at the time of the three major annual festivals10 when vast numbers of pilgrims swamped the city. The end of Archelaus’ rule marked 5 6 7 8

9

10

Josephus, Jewish War vi.282, cited by Gabba 1999, 124–125. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xx.219–222; Gabba 1999, 125, 236. Josephus, Jewish War ii.293–297, after Bahat 1999, 41. Sanders 1992, 323. While the high priest can be viewed as ‘first among equals’, the chief priests are believed to have been chosen from ‘the four or five families from whom the high priests were drawn’ (Sanders 1992, 327–328). Note the council of seventy-one elders, the Sanhedrin, did not exist in the early first century (Bond 2004, 34 n. 2). Festivals of Passover (Pesach), Weeks (Shavuot), Tabernacles (Sukkot).

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an important watershed in Jewish history – in addition to being the focal point for the Jewish religion the Temple became the hub of political and economic activity.11 Jesus was a first-century eschatological prophet and, as noted in chapter  1, one of the most important themes in his teaching is that of the advent of the kingdom of God. A  key sub-theme closely related to this is judgement. The Evangelists in their opening chapters describe John the Baptist, fiery and forceful, preaching not only repentance for the forgiveness of sins but judgement on the people. This mantle was taken up later by Jesus in association with his proclamation concerning the kingdom of God. Matthew and Luke describe his despair and anger at the lack of comprehension and motivation of some of the Galilean villagers who refused to follow him – those from Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum  – and his subsequent threats that divine judgement would fall on them (Luke 10:13–15/Matthew 11:21–24). Certainly John was an apocalyptic prophet, and part of Jesus’ teaching was of an apocalyptic nature (see chapter 1). It is generally accepted by scholars that, during his ministry, Jesus was a good Jew in that he respected Jewish cult activity.12 And certainly in the aftermath of his execution his followers continued to frequent the Temple and participate in its services (Acts 2:46; 3:1). Moreover, Paul also took part in Temple rituals and taught there (Acts 21:26–36; 22:17; Charlesworth 2014c, 210). Notwithstanding, there is considerable agreement that Jesus was arrested because of his disruptive action in the Temple (the so-called ‘Cleansing of the Temple’) in conjunction with remarks he made, both at the time and later, especially those concerning the destruction of the Temple. According to the Gospel authors these incidents are closely associated during the last week of Jesus’ life. The purpose of this chapter is to utilize a more wide-ranging assessment of textual material, incorporating an approach from oral testimony, in order to understand the Evangelists’ understanding of Jesus’ attitude towards the Temple and its administration. It is important to be aware that we are seeing first-century Jerusalem through the eyes of the Evangelists, in particular Mark. There is no doubt that he produced a carefully crafted Gospel, especially with respect to the last week in Jesus’ life, which suggests that he paid close attention to eyewitness accounts.

11 12

Borg and Crossan 2008, 15. Sanders 1985, 245–269; Vermes 2003, 42–43; Wardle 2010, 171.

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Significantly, it is evident that some of the Markan pericopes are of an early date and therefore can be viewed as originating with Jesus. Jesus’ Action in the Temple and Sayings Relating to the Temple The historicity of the ‘Cleansing of the Temple’ is not only strongly supported by the multiple references in the Synoptic Gospels and that of John (Mark 11:15–18; Matthew 21:12–13; Luke 19:45–47; John 2:13– 16), but also by earlier oral accounts detectable in some of the texts (see below). Moreover, Jesus’ actions did not draw the attention of the Jewish Temple guards or Roman soldiers, ‘indicating that the action was both brief and confined to a small area of the temple’ (Wardle 2010, 172). This is notable and further demonstrates the importance given to the event by the Evangelists. Indeed, John puts it in a prominent position near the beginning of his Gospel. However, no act on the part of Jesus has generated so much disagreement as to what it was he was objecting to in the outer court of the Gentiles during the final days of his life. Essentially Jesus stopped the buying and selling of animals, overturned the tables of the moneylenders and the benches of the dove sellers, and prohibited the area being used as a thoroughfare. This lack of consensus as to why Jesus behaved as he did has resulted in a voluminous amount of published and unpublished literature. Two important but contrasting views are those of E.  P. Sanders (1985) and Craig A.  Evans (1997), Sanders claiming Jesus’ action symbolized the forthcoming destruction of the Temple as divine judgement, while Evans maintaining it represented just a ‘cleansing’, but of a moral rather than a ritual significance. Moreover, Sanders does not hold that a corrupt priesthood was the root cause of Jesus’ conduct, but Evans does, adding that ‘the Temple authorities were Jesus’ enemies’ (Evans 1997, 407). In the main, previous discussions have centred primarily on the scene itself, and this has hindered understanding. But Jesus’ action (and also the comments regarding the Temple destruction) needs to be viewed within the wider context of the ‘Jesus story’, in order to understand how such behaviour fits in with the general themes that can be identified during Jesus’ short ministry. The phrase ‘Cleansing of the Temple’ is an ambiguous expression and has no reference to purity rituals according to the Gospel texts; it was the priests who maintained the purity of the Temple, and Jesus was no priest. Thus several scholars have deemed it unsuitable, some preferring

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the words ‘action in the temple’ instead.13 In this chapter we will follow their direction. In addition our focus will mainly centre on comparing material from the Gospels of Mark and John; these are distinctive bodies of literature drawing on different but comparable sources. John’s account compares well with Mark (and the other Synoptics) in that ‘the sellers of animals and doves are expelled from the Temple precincts and the tables of money-changers are overturned, with some variation in detail as one would expect in an oral tradition [my italics]’; likewise, the reprimands attributed to Jesus are different yet compatible with the Temple being described as a ‘den of thieves’ (Mark 11:17) as opposed to a ‘market place’ (John 2:16) (Dunn 2011a, in 2013, 177–178). Thus, based on the individuality of Mark and John, this evidence strongly suggests that the story circulated in earlier oral versions. E. P. Sanders has been considerably influential in proposing that Jesus’ action was symbolizing the destruction of the Temple to make way for its eschatological restoration (Sanders 1985, 61–76; 1995, 260–261). He argued that removing the sacrificial animals from the court of the Gentiles for purity ideals, thus cleansing the Temple, is not a viable explanation for Jesus’ action. Sacrifice and worship were inextricably linked in the Temple:  the Temple could not function without sacrifice. Moreover, Sanders claimed there was no evidence that Jesus wished to alter procedure in the Temple, or that Jesus thought there was corrupt management. He states: ‘If Jesus were a religious reformer, however, bent on correcting “abuse” and “present practice”, we should hear charges of immorality, dishonesty and corruption directed against the priests’ (Sanders 1985, 66). And he dismissed the references to Jeremiah and Isaiah in Mark (11:17) that Jesus appears to have used as later interpolations by the early church, as have many other scholars. However, Helen Bond (2004, 66) has pointed out that those hearing Jesus’ words would have unmistakeably understood the significance of his citations and actions. Several hundred years earlier than the time of Jesus, Jeremiah and Isaiah were prophets who used ‘symbolic actions’ to convey God’s message to Israel and who railed against the conduct of the priesthood’s behaviour in the Temple, because it fell short of ‘obedience, kindness, morality and justice’. In contrast to Sanders, Craig A.  Evans (1997) proposed that Jesus’ action embodied a symbolic purification of the Temple, and that his ire was directed at the corruption of the Temple administration. This latter 13

Bauckham 1988, 72–73; H. D. Betz 1997, 459; Klawans 2006, 224.

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proposal rests on the Old Testament citations made by Jesus in Mark 11:17 (Jeremiah 7:11; Isaiah 56:7). Evans points out that ‘criticism of the Temple and its priesthood is thematic in Isaiah’, and that Jeremiah ‘charges the priests and rulers of Judah with various crimes, some of which are commercial’ (1997, 410–411). Wardle (2010, 177)  supports these statements from a different perspective and by also using the Old Testament references in John (Zechariah 14:21; Psalm 69:9):  ‘Since the differing Old Testament citations in Mark and John both turn on an accusation of financial impropriety, it is highly probable that the common tradition behind both Mark and John contained a denunciation of the chief priests’ economic malfeasance.’ In other words we have here an echo of a pre-literary story – an oral version substantiating the words of Jesus – words that powerfully denounce the priesthood. Underlining the unscrupulous behaviour of the first-century priesthood, Evans also cited considerable material from outside the New Testament, much of it rabbinic (Evans 1995a, 321–342; 1997, 421–428). However, this approach has been criticized by Klawans (2006, 227–228), who pointed out that the similarity between Josephus and the rabbinic texts with reference to known and corrupt high priests relates to the 60s, not necessarily the time of Jesus. There were approximately nineteen high priests in office between 6 and 66 ce, which is a considerable number, leading Meier (2001, 623) to speak of a ‘revolving-door’ policy in their appointments. Despite this rapid turnover, all the men came from only ‘four highly influential families who must have formed a fairly tight-knit clique in their control of Judean (and other Jewish affairs)’ (Horsley 1986, 31). Hence there is a strong likelihood that the rabbinic evidence is relevant. Furthermore, there is copious protest against the way the Temple and priesthood were run in the Dead Sea Scrolls.14 For example, the Damascus Document (CD 4.14) speaks of the three nets of Satan  – fornication, riches, and profanation  – with regard to the priests and the running of the Temple.15 Essentially this sect was

14

15

Vermes 1994, xxiv: ‘In sum, the general scholarly view today places the Qumran scrolls roughly between 200 bce–70 ce with a small portion of the texts possibly stretching back to the third century bce, and the bulk of the extant material dating to the first century bce.’ ‘During all those years Satan shall be unleashed against Israel, as He spoke by the hand of Isaiah, son of Amoz, saying, Terror and the pit and the snare are upon you, O inhabitant of the land (Isa. 24.17). Interpreted (pišro), these are the three nets of Satan with which Levi son of Jacob said that he catches Israel by setting them up as three kinds of

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highly critical of the corruption that ran through the Jerusalem priesthood.16 The fact that Sanders rejected the Old Testament references as later additions undermines his claim that there was no wrongdoing or abuse of power on the part of the high priest and his set. As Richard Hays points out, the Jeremiah reference crucially supports Sanders’s thesis that Jesus was enacting the potential destruction of the Temple, for Jeremiah had threatened the Temple with destruction in his own day if there was no reform in the corrupt behaviour of the priests (Hays 2015, 8; Jeremiah 7). Thus Jeremiah was writing in the context of judgement on Judah, and, as Hooker underlines, it is the element of judgement in the Temple action that Sanders has ignored (Hooker 1988). Interestingly, Hays goes on to say: ‘I see no reason to deny that the historical figure of Jesus might well have patterned his words and actions after the prophet Jeremiah.’ And he also makes an important observation that in general the ‘ominous threat of judgement and destruction holds good for the analysis of Mark’s theology’. There are further similarities in the Gospel accounts of Mark and John in that metaphors relating to the destruction of the Temple, Jesus’ body in John (John 2:19) and the fruitless fig tree in Mark (Mark 11:12–14 and 20–21), are associated with Jesus’ action in the Temple. In Mark the Temple action is placed close to the accounts of the fig tree; in John the incident is juxtaposed with a reference to Jesus’ death. Hence, it would appear there is pre-Markan oral evidence alluding to the destruction of the Temple. Furthermore, Hays has drawn attention to the fact that the fig tree episode in Mark is of great significance in that this story is connected with Jeremiah in the form of a ‘judgement oracle’ (Hays 2015, 8–9; Jeremiah 8:13). Hays states: ‘Just as Jeremiah had spoken of Israel as an unfruitful, withered fig tree, Jesus performs a symbolic treewithering act that prefigures the fate of Israel – or, at least, of the Temple.’ This concept of judgement presented by the Evangelists is further highlighted by the parable of the Wicked Tenants (Mark 12:1–12; Matthew 21:33–46; Luke 20:9–19), which in Mark follows the episode in the Temple where Jesus’ authority is challenged by the chief priests, teachers of the law, and the elders (Mark 11:27–33).

16

righteousness. The first is fornication, the second is riches and the third is profanation of the Temple’ (Damascus Document CD 4.14, cited by Timothy H. Lim 2002, 53). C. A. Evans (2010, 248–250) provides more examples from the scrolls, stating: ‘Qumran’s criticism of the Jerusalem priesthood is severe and uncompromising.’

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Jesus then began to speak to them in parables: ‘A man planted a vineyard. He put a wall around it, dug a pit for the winepress and built a watchtower. Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers and moved to another place. At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenants to collect from them some of the fruit of the vineyard. But they seized him, beat him and sent him away empty-handed. Then he sent another servant to them; they struck this man on the head and treated him shamefully. He sent still another, and that one they killed. He sent many others; some of them they beat, others they killed. ‘He had one left to send, a son, whom he loved. He sent him last of all, saying, “They will respect my son.” But the tenants said to one another, “This is the heir. Come, let’s kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.” So they took him and killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others. Haven’t you read this passage of Scripture: “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvellous in our eyes”?’ (Mark 12:1–12)

This parable clearly originated with Jesus since ‘it does not serve the needs of the post-Easter community and its proclamation’ (Charlesworth 2014b, 167). Moreover, the early church would not have introduced the inheritance theme,17 or for that matter supported servitude. It is important to note that the Dead Sea Scrolls indicate that the prophets are described as ‘servants’ in Second Temple Judaism (1QpHab 7 after Charlesworth 2014b, 168). In narrating this parable Jesus is referring to the Song of the Vineyard in Isaiah 5:1–7.18 In the latter the judgement of God looms over Israel, which has been found to be wanting in ensuring ‘justice’ and ‘righteousness’, but in the parable judgement shifts from Israel to the newly introduced tenant farmers who, for the following reasons, represent the iniquitous chief priests. The Aramaic paraphrase (Targum) of Isaiah (5:1– 2, 5) refers to the watch tower and winepress mentioned in Isaiah as a ‘sanctuary’ and an ‘altar’ respectively; this is also corroborated in two places in the rabbinic literature, Tosefta:  Me’ila 1.16 and Sukkah 3.15. Moreover, in 4Q500, dating to the first half of the first century bce, the Song of the Vineyard citation is clearly associated with the Temple and supports the foregoing interpretation of the Targum.19 Thus at the time 17 18 19

Crossan 1971, 455; C. A. Evans 1997, 404. C. A. Evans 1997, 404. Baumgarten 1989, 1–6; Brooke 1995, 268–294, after C. A. Evans 2012, 90 n. 1; C. A. Evans and Wright 2008, 7–8. Charlesworth 2014a, 169.

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of Jesus the Isaiah parable was commonly understood as being a direct criticism of the Temple authorities. There has been much dispute over whether the Old Testament reference (concerning the cornerstone, Mark 12:10 citing Psalm 118:22) following the parable was originally associated with it, or has been added by the early church. Timothy Wardle (2010, 185–187) has argued convincingly for an early association of the psalm with the parable on the following grounds: 1) the parables of Jesus (and the rabbis) commonly had biblical citations following them, giving ‘greater authority to the parable’s conclusion’; 2) the parable and citation are closely associated ‘through Semitic wordplay’ with respect to the son and the stone, a wordplay only possible in Hebrew (and Aramaic),20 and not Greek, the language of the early church; and 3) there is a ‘historical precedent’ for the juxtaposition of the vineyard and the cornerstone, since in one of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Rule of the Community, 1QS 8:4–10) the ‘community’ is likened to both ‘an eternal planting’ and an immovable ‘precious cornerstone’. Collectively, these points form a strong argument for the parable and the citation originating with Jesus. In Jesus’ parable the owner of the vineyard (the Temple) is God, who sends his servants (the prophets) to warn the wicked tenants (the chief priests) of impending death if they do not change their corrupt ways. Importantly, the parable depicts the rapacious and murderous behaviour of the tenant farmers or rather the chief priests. It is plain that in telling this parable Jesus was not only openly confronting the priesthood, but stating his relationship to God as his ‘son’ thereby putting his own life on the line. That the use of the word ‘son’ can be attributed to Jesus is clearly brought out by the pericope following the parable in which he expertly puns on the word ‘stone’ (see below). The ‘stone’ as the ‘cornerstone’ is the most important part of a building and relating it to Jesus as ‘son’ is indicative of the importance of his mission. Mark makes it clear that Jesus is speaking this parable to the Temple authorities – in particular the 20

Although the Aramaic word for ‘son’ is ‘bar’ (cf. Hebrew ‘ben’), the Hebrew word was also used in Aramaic contexts (Simon Gathercole pers. comm.). And the Aramaic word for ‘stone’ is the same as that in Hebrew, ‘eben’, thus enabling the ‘pun (eben is ben)’ (Wright 1996, 170 after Charlesworth 2014a, 170). There is also a play on ‘stones’ and ‘sons’ in Matthew 3:9 and Luke 3:8. In addition, Josephus states in the Jewish War v.272: ‘Accordingly the watchmen that sat upon the towers gave them notice when the engine was let go and the stone came from it, and cried out aloud, in their own country language, “THE SON COMES” so those who were in its way stood off, and threw themselves down upon the ground; by which means, and by their thus guarding themselves, the stone fell down and did them no harm’ (Simon Gathercole pers. comm.).

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chief priests – who after hearing it were determined to arrest him there and then, but they held back fearing the crowd about him (Mark 12:12). As already stated, Sanders’s proposal that Jesus was enacting the destruction of the Temple has been strengthened by the associated Old Testament references. In addition, he himself has cited evidence embracing a wider context and from a number of traditions to support his theory (Sanders 1985, 71–73:  Mark 13:1–2; Mark 14:57–58/Matthew 26:59–61; Mark 15:29/Matthew 27:40; John 2:19). Certainly the notion that Jesus actually said something predicting or threatening the destruction of the Temple is widely acknowledged. Furthermore, another link between Mark and John points to an early ‘oral memory’ identified by Dunn (2011a in 2013, 178):  after Jesus’ authority is challenged in the Temple John quotes Jesus as saying, ‘Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days’ (John 2:19), and, although the Evangelist Mark has claimed witnesses were not in accord, even fabricating evidence, the essence of these words is repeated in accusations at Jesus’ trial in Mark (14:57–59). Such accusations were also hurled at Jesus while on the cross (Mark 15:29). And Stephen was also charged with saying Jesus would destroy the Temple (Acts 6:14); yet again the allegation rested on false witnesses (Acts 6:13).21 Notwithstanding, one of the most interesting Temple references is Mark 13:1–2 (Matthew 24:2; Luke 21:6): As Jesus was leaving the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!’ ‘Do you see all these great buildings?’ replied Jesus. ‘Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.’

When the Romans seized control of Jerusalem in 70 ce they did not raze the Temple or the city to the ground. A huge part of one retaining wall remains standing today, underpinning the Temple Mount (Haram al-Sharif). And as already pointed out in the introduction, this wall comprises large and in some places gigantic stones. Significantly, Jesus did not predict the eyewitness account of Josephus, who describes a massive conflagration, one in which the Holy of Holies was engulfed and destroyed together with the rest of the Temple complex.22 As E. P. Sanders (1995, 257) has pointed out, clearly the prediction in Mark 13:2 does not hold good; if the pericope was of post-70 ce origin, then almost 21 22

Sanders 1985, 72. Josephus, Jewish War vi.249–253.

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certainly this raging fiery event would have been mentioned. Thus the archaeological and textual evidence strongly argue for a pre-70 ce dating for this part of the text.23 Another reference to the potential destruction of the Temple Mount is that of Mark 11:23; following Old Testament tradition, here the Temple is likened to a mountain (as for example the holy mountain mentioned in Isaiah 56:7). Closely allied is the pericope concerning prayer (Mark 11:24–25), the kind of prayer that is based on faith and the forgiveness of others. The Influence of the High Priesthood in Jesus’ Arrest and Trial So far we have established that the Temple action and the associated sayings of Jesus and others point to the destruction of the Temple as a judgement by God, and that Jesus’ anger was directed full blast at the chief priests. What we have not established is why Jesus was so angry: what exactly was it that the chief priests had done? The words corruption and injustice cover a mass of unacceptable human behaviour. In order to gain further understanding of this, the main themes of Jesus’ ministry need to be examined. Besides that of the message of the kingdom of God, and the matter of his healings, one persistent thread runs through the Gospel texts – Jesus’ concern for the poor. Tan (1997, 177–178) proposed Jesus was protesting against the corruption in the Temple that oppressed the poor; significantly, he points out that doves were ‘the poor man’s sacrifice’.24 Klawans (2006, 228)  claimed Jesus’ act ‘articulates a social message’ in that he was against those aspects of the system, the Temple tax and the vendors selling doves, which squeezed money from the poor. Widening the context, he underlines the ‘communitarian ethic’ reflected in the aftermath of the crucifixion, whereby Jesus’ followers shared all their possessions, thus leaving no one in dire need (Acts 2:44–45; 4:32–36). The fact that John and Jesus forgave sins without recourse to the Temple rite of the sin offering suggests that the expense for sacrificial 23

24

There is a parallel in Josephus when, four years before the Jewish war in 70 ce, Jesus ben Ananias was bent on predicting the destruction of the Temple until he was struck by a stone from a Roman ballista (ancient military siege engine in the form of a crossbow), which instantly killed him (Jewish War vi.300–309). ‘But if she cannot afford a lamb, she is to bring two doves or two young pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a sin offering’ (Leviticus 12:8). See also Luke 2:24.

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birds may have been beyond the means of the poor, as perhaps was the Temple half-shekel tax. Moreover, removing the need to make a sin offering would have put John and Jesus in direct confrontation with the Temple authorities, and was probably one of the contributory factors leading to their deaths (see chapter 1, p. 15; chapter 3, p. 58). There is consensus that, at the time of Jesus, every adult male was required to pay the annual Temple tax of a half-shekel. This was for the maintenance of the Temple, including the community sacrifices, but was not meant as a payment to the priesthood.25 Certainly there is no mention of an annual tax in the Torah.26 The earliest reliable evidence for the annual half-shekel tax is post-Hasmonean and relates to Roman rule in Judea.27 And despite the fact that all Jews were expected to pay this, including those in the diaspora, there was some dissent. For example, one of the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q159) indicates that the Qumran community understood that the tax should be a one-time life payment, reverting back to the time of Exodus: ‘As for the half-[shekel, the offering of the Lord] which they gave, each man as a ransom of his soul: only one [time] shall he give it all his days’ (after Horsley 1987, 280). However, archaeological evidence has shown that, contemporary with Jesus, considerable interest (agio) was charged if payment was made by one individual using a halfshekel in contrast to two individuals whose combined payment was one whole shekel.28

25 26

27 28

Sanders 1992, 156. ‘Exodus 30:13–16 requires every male twenty years old or older to pay a tax of a half shekel to support the tabernacle (which preceded the temple), apparently meaning this to be tax that was for one time only. Nehemiah 10.32 [Heb v33] levies an annual tax of one third shekel. In our period, these passages were interpreted as requiring an annual tax of one half shekel (= two drachmas) to be paid by every adult Jewish male’ (Sanders 1992, 156). It is important to note that at the time of the Exodus the shekel was not a coin but a weight in silver. Coinage was not introduced until the seventh century bce. Liver 1963, 186–187, after Horsley 1987, 280. Leo Kadman 1962 (http://israelvisit.co.il/beged-ivri/shekel/teachings/kadman.htm). In 1960, a hoard of c. 4,500 ancient silver coins was found near Isfiya on Mount Carmel comprising:  3,400 Tyrian shekels, 1,000 half-shekels, and 160 Roman denarii of Augustus. The shekels and half-shekels date from 40 bce to 52/53 ce, with most from 20–53 ce, and the Roman denarii from the first decade ce. This well-preserved coin hoard represents the payment of the annual Temple tax for ‘7,800 male Jews of more than 20 years of age, or a community of 30,000 people’. The hoard clearly shows the difference in paying the tax for one individual (half-shekel) as opposed to two (shekel), since according to the Mishna interest (agio) was charged on the former at 4 to 8 per cent; thus, the 160 denarii represent an agio of 8 per cent on the 1,000 half-shekels identified in the hoard. The 2-drachma (half-shekel)/4-drachma (shekel) tax is strikingly described in Matthew 17:24–27, where Jesus tells Peter where to find the 4-drachma coin

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Some scholars have suggested that it was wrong to use Tyrian coinage for the Temple offering since the coins were not neutral or ‘holy’; on the obverse was an image of a pagan God (Melkart-Herakles), and on the reverse a Tyrian eagle with the inscription ‘Tyre, the holy and inviolable’.29 This could have been offensive to devout Jews. But the popularity of the half-shekel coin chosen for the Temple tax lies in the fact that the silver content was ‘exceptionally pure (95% silver)’ (Chancey 2005, 173). And such high-value currency would have been deemed necessary by the Temple authorities and most likely have swayed any adverse opinions. The changing of money was organized by the Temple treasury.30 Bauckham (1988, 72–89) has claimed that Jesus was objecting to the manner in which the Temple treasury had changed the sacrificial procedure into a profit-making business; this and the accruement of Temple revenues were ‘benefitting the rulers rather than the ruled’. In other words, he sees commercialization rather than corruption provoking Jesus into action. And this may well have had an adverse effect on the poor. Martin Goodman (1987, 51–75) has presented two models as to how the rich gained their wealth. Jerusalem was one of the richest and most prosperous cities in the Near East in the first century ce. While the stimulus for its growth rested on the pilgrim industry and generous donations from visiting Gentiles, and also Herodian wealth generated in other parts of Palestine, there appeared no incentive at this time to invest in the local economy and agricultural production. Indeed the land surrounding Jerusalem was of mediocre quality. Goodman’s first model highlights the precarious nature of peasant farming when struck by poor harvests caused by occasional droughts. Here freehold farmers would have had to seek cash loans from the rich in order to survive, and if they were unable to pay back such loans (with interest accruing) they would have been forced to sell the land, perhaps remaining on it as tenants. There is considerable evidence that such loans were made in first-century Judea, and this was one reason why the debt archive was sought out and burnt in Jerusalem in 66 ce by the Jewish rebels.31 Moreover, if a number of freeholdings had been bought and converted into an estate, only a

29

30

31

to pay the tax for both of them, thus avoiding the need to pay any agio. Note 1 drachma (Greek coin) is equivalent to 1 denarius (Roman coin). Richardson 1992, 507–523 and Murphy-O’Connor 2000, 43–55, after Von Wahlde 2006, 523–586. Charlesworth 2014a, 164. Bauckham (1988, 75)  states:  ‘In all probability the moneychangers were priests or Levites on the temple staff.’ Josephus, Jewish War ii.427.

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‘limited number’ of men would have been needed to manage it, and those men surplus to requirements would have swiftly become unemployed. Indeed, some of Jesus’ parables do reflect this situation.32 Goodman’s second model concerns Herod and Archelaus granting land to the rich as largesse, although there is no real evidence for this. Jesus encouraged the rich to give away their possessions to the poor (Mark 4:19; Matthew 19:21–22; Luke 18:22–23), and several of his parables describe rich landowners (Matthew 20:1; 21:33). Thus it is apposite to ask who exactly these people were, and where Palestinian wealth was concentrated. Given the extraordinary wealth indicated by the lavish mansions excavated in the Upper City of Jerusalem,33 Goodman (1987, 55) has dubbed these ‘Jerusalemites’ the rich ruling class recognized by Rome, such recognition indicating that their wealth lay in land. David A. Fiensy (1991, 51) claimed that the aristocratic priests, particularly the chief priests and their families, were the principal landowners at the time. This view is based on Stern (1976, 587), who pointed out that Diodorus Siculus, a Greek historian of the first century bce, records Hecataeus of Abdera, an earlier fourth-century historian, as saying that Moses gave the priests a larger share of the land than all the other Israelites (40.3.7); this contradicts the Old Testament ruling which states that the priests and Levites should not hold land (Deuteronomy 10:9, 12:12, 18:1; Numbers 18:24). Thus the Greek reference must have referred to the social situation of the Second Temple period and not earlier. Furthermore, Barnabas in the New Testament is an example of a Levite who, contrary to the Old Testament requirements, owned land.34 The Jewish aristocracy would have comprised relatives of Herod holding land, but they would not have held any formal office.35 It was the chief priests who had both the power and the land. In the ancient world, temples constituted the first banks where considerable quantities of coins were given as offerings to the gods; here money was thought to be under divine protection and therefore the best 32

33 34

35

It is interesting to note that the labourers in the parable of the Workers in the Vineyard (Matthew 20:9–10) and those working on the Temple (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xx.220) receive remuneration for a whole day’s work regardless of how long they worked, even if for just an hour. This suggests there were a considerable number of unemployed men around. See chapter 6, pp. 158–161. ‘Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas (which means Son of Encouragement), sold a field he owned and brought the money and put it at the apostles’ feet’ (Acts 4:36–37; Simon Gathercole pers. comm.). Horsley 1987, 31.

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place for safe-keeping.36 Such banking accelerated in the Hellenistic period only to slow down in Roman times, excepting the larger temples. However, the Temple of Jerusalem still remained the place where the rich could store their surplus wealth.37 Significantly, it was also the place from which loans could be made – a place in direct control of the chief priests. Following the socio-economic aspect identified in the Gospels and Acts by Klawans (see above), we should turn our attention to the Letter of James, traditionally attributed to Jesus’ brother (see chapter 3, p. 72 for details concerning the authenticity of the text). What is important is not so much the author but the early Jewish community of Jesus followers it describes, who were living in Jerusalem pre-70 ce. The letter is significant not only because the author lays emphasis on the power of prayer in giving guidance and healing, but because he is very much aware of the poor. His own wisdom teaching, while unique to him, reflects that of Jesus; for example James 2:5 resembles the first Beatitude (Luke 6:20) in the sayings of Jesus.38 Furthermore, like Jesus, he targets the rich as both a wisdom teacher and prophet; for example, 1)  the imprudence of the wealthy described by James (4:13–16) compares with Jesus’ parable of the Rich Fool (Luke 12:16–20)39; and 2) the coming judgement on those that persecute the poor (James 5:1–6) parallels Jesus’ parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19–31).40 Indeed, James goes further than Jesus in positively lambasting the rich (James 5:1–6): Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming on you. Your wealth has rotted, and moths have eaten your clothes. Your gold

36 37 38 39

40

Hamilton 1964, 366. Josephus, Jewish War, cited by Goodman 1982, 420. Bauckham 1999, 86. In the parable of the Rich Fool (Luke 12:16–21; Thomas 63), while the material life of the man was overflowing with abundance since he had been amassing more and more grain, his spiritual life was defunct in that he had focused more on money than God. He subsequently failed to gain entrance into eternal life. This parable likely originated with Jesus (Hultgren 2000, 108). Dunn (2003, 424) states: ‘Here again is a motif regarding future judgement which is widespread and thoroughly rooted in the different strands of the Jesus tradition. In several cases where the tradition is attested in only one Synoptic Gospel we have noted that Thomas also attests the tradition. In such a case it must be considered most unlikely the tradition entered the tradition only in the early churches.’ In the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, the rich man ignores Lazarus’ dreadful plight while alive, but after death finds himself in hell rather than where Lazarus is with Abraham (Luke 16:19–26). Jesus is recorded as saying: ‘No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.’ Dunn has remarked on the parable’s overtly Jewish nature (2003, 422 n. 213).

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and silver are corroded. Their corrosion will testify against you and eat your flesh like fire. You have hoarded wealth in the last days. Look! The wages you failed to pay the workers who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty. You have lived on earth in luxury and self-indulgence. You have fattened yourselves in the day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered the innocent one, who was not opposing you.

Since James’s letter was composed with reference to diaspora Jews,41 the question arises as to how far the above description represents the Jerusalem where James lived. Dunn (2009, 1141) has pointed out that such a public condemnation signifies conditions pre-66 since James does not use the cataclysmic event of 70 ce as a judgement on the greed of the wealthy. Significantly, Lang has pointed out that Paul scarcely wrote about the poor or criticized the wealthy with regard to Gentile Christians (Lang 1989, 330). Further, following Jesus’ death, the Jerusalem ‘church’ under James maintained Jesus’ mission in prayer, preaching, and helping the poor through raising financial aid. The latter was commented on by Paul when he visited the apostles to obtain their blessing for the work he was doing; there in Jerusalem he was asked to make collections from the Gentiles for the Jerusalem poor (Galatians 2:10). And indeed such collections were made for the indigent (Romans 15:25–26, 31; 1 Corinthians 16:1–3). Lang has suggested that ‘this emphasis soon began to distinguish [the poor] Jewish Christians from the [more prosperous] gentile churches’ (Lang 1989, 329–330). Thus it would seem reasonable to assume that the author was writing out of his own experience, and that the above diatribe highlights the hoarding of wealth by the rich in Jerusalem and their withholding of payment to the poor.42 When Judea became a province of Rome in 6 ce, the Romans had a strong hand in appointing the high priest, and they favoured the Sadducees for their choice of candidate; thus Ananus and his family controlled the high priesthood for sixty years.43 James’ acerbic attacks on the rich likely was the reason that led the high priest Ananus (son of Annas or rather Ananus the elder) to scheme his death at a time when the procurator was absent from Jerusalem. James was executed by stoning 41

42 43

Dunn suggests the letter resulted from the transcription of an earlier oral version by a later writer, perhaps after James’s execution or even after the Jewish rebellion (2009, 1128–1129). See chapter 3, p. 72. James was put to death in c. 62 ce. See the archaeology in chapter 6, pp. 158–164. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xviii.93; xx.6; Simmons 2008, 71.

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in 62  ce.44 Since this execution was not in accord with Roman policy, Ananus was subsequently dismissed from office.45 Evidently the community of Qumran (most likely the Essenes) abhorred and shunned the Temple set-up in Jerusalem.46 Possibly John the Baptist had a connection with Qumran, and initially Jesus may have been his disciple; this could well have been influential in causing Jesus’ anti-Temple-establishment stance.47 Moreover, there are related points concerning the high priest and chief priests’ involvement in the arrest of Jesus at Gethsemane in both the Gospels of Mark and John. Plainly Judas betrayed Jesus to the priesthood, and the chief priests figure predominantly as those who had sent officials to arrest Jesus.48 When Jesus was arrested in the garden of Gethsemane, one of the disciples cuts off the ear of the high priest’s servant/slave (Mark 14:47; John 18:10); moreover, the fact that the high priest had sent his servant indicates he had a major interest in the arrest. The involvement of the high priest49 in Jesus’ arrest is perhaps not too surprising, given that one of his main tasks at Passover and in general was to maintain law and order. The massive influx of people into Jerusalem at Passover entailed keeping tight control of the crowds, and, apart from the Roman prefect, responsibility for this fell on the high priest. Indeed, riots often flared up during feasts.50 Jesus’ popularity would surely have worried the establishment and it is notable that John records he was arrested at night and by a covert operation (John 18:2–3). So a good reason for Jesus’ arrest would have been to curb the people’s enthusiasm and hence ensure orderly behaviour.51 With reference to the early Christians, Sanders (1985, 285) has pointed out that the harrying of the early church was at the behest of the Jewish leadership; it is the chief priests and Sadducees who are responsible in the book of Acts. And, as just mentioned, it was the high priest Ananus who was responsible for the death of Jesus’ brother James.

44 45 46 47 48

49 50 51

Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xx.199–201. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xx.201–203; Sanders 1985, 284. C. A. Evans 1997, 424. C. A. Evans 1997, 424–425. Mark 14:43 (chief priests, teachers of the law, and the elders). John 18:3 (detachment of soldiers, some officials from the chief priests, and Pharisees). Caiaphas: high priest from 18 to 37 ce (Mason 1992, 127). Josephus, Jewish War i.88; ii.224. Sanders 1995, 273; Fredriksen 2000, 270–271.

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Now one of the main charges brought against Jesus at his trial was that he threatened the destruction of the Temple. Jeremiah was arrested for preaching against the Temple, prophesying its desolation and destruction, and he was consequently threatened with death (Jeremiah 38:4). Tellingly, as Sanders highlights, the Evangelists went to great lengths to indicate that Jesus did not threaten the Temple. He states: ‘they protest too much’ (Sanders 1995, 257–258). Evidently Jesus did say something against the Temple and his action in the Temple demonstrated this. Furthermore, it is conceivable that Caiaphas, the high priest, interrogated him as to whether he was the Messiah (see chapter 1, pp. 20–21). While I agree with Sanders that Caiaphas took action against Jesus ‘because of his principal political and moral responsibility: to preserve the peace and to prevent riots and bloodshed’, there are important additional reasons as to why he acted. Jesus was popular with the people not only because they believed in his miracles but also because he wholeheartedly supported the poor. He opposed the selfishness of the rich  – the aristocracy  – a large part of which comprised the chief priesthood. This concern for the less fortunate was mirrored by Jesus’ brother James, and formed a core principle in setting up the early church. It is noteworthy that the antagonists of Jesus (Caiaphas) and James (Ananus) were closely related high priests: Caiaphas was married to Ananus’ sister. Summary The Gospels of Mark and John attest to the authenticity of the Temple incident, and also confirm that Jesus did speak openly about the destruction of the Temple. They also tally with reference to their Old Testament citations in that Jesus appears to be accusing the Temple authorities of corrupt behaviour. Clearly these New Testament texts have originated from oral versions that would have been in circulation much earlier than the written material. The Jeremiah and Isaiah references in Mark’s Gospel are keys to understanding Mark’s take on this story, especially in relation to the concept of judgement. Firstly, Jesus was acting the role of Jeremiah who, several hundred years earlier, had condemned the priesthood for oppression, idolatry, thieving, and immorality. Secondly, by setting the Temple scene close to the account of the withered fig tree cursed by Jesus, which relates to the fig tree reference in Jeremiah (a judgement oracle), Mark emphasizes the coming destruction of the Temple. Shortly afterwards Mark introduces the parable of the Tenants with its strong core

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of judgement. This emanates from the Song of the Vineyard in Isaiah; here evidence from both the Isaiah Targum and one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 4Q500, indicates that the iniquitous priesthood is the target of God’s wrath. Moreover, there is strong evidence that the parable and the citation following originated with Jesus, particularly with reference to the word ‘son’ and the Semitic wordplay involving the words ‘son’ and ‘stone’. Certainly Jesus is highlighting the violent and greedy conduct of the chief priests. While much money could be made through the pilgrim industry, real wealth was tied to the land. This was the way the rich became richer, by buying up land from peasants who were unable to pay back loans taken out to survive times of climatic uncertainty. This elite sector of society was largely comprised of the chief priests together with a number of Herodian aristocrats. Jesus (and most likely John the Baptist and James) did not oppose the Temple as such but rather the abuse of it by the high priest and chief priests. Jesus saw the Temple as a money-spinning enterprise operating at the expense of the poor, the intense commercialization obliterating any sense of a ‘house of prayer’. He viewed the rich landowners of the priesthood as a major cause of misery for the poor. Indeed, his brother James carried on his ministry to the poor, and was remembered as vehemently denouncing the avarice and venality of the rich. While Caiaphas would have been worried that Jesus might well precipitate a major disturbance at Passover, equally Jesus’ overt stance against the priesthood and the corruption it represented almost certainly led the high priest to take drastic measures against him, resulting in his death. The textual evidence of chapter 2 is underpinned by the archaeological data of chapter  4, which contrasts and compares late Second Temple Judaic practices between Galilee and Judea; this has enabled a better understanding as to why Jesus went to Jerusalem and confronted the priesthood. The material in chapter 2 is referenced at the end of chapter 4.

3 The Character and Legacy of Jesus

Jesus thought of himself as God’s son and as anointed by the eschatological Spirit, because in prayer he experienced God as Father and in ministry he experienced a power to heal which he could only understand as the power of the end-time and an inspiration to proclaim a message which he could only understand as the gospel of the end-time. (James D. G. Dunn 1975, 67)

Introduction That Jesus made a strong impact on his disciples and close followers to the extent that immediately after his death they gathered together to carry on his mission – in his name – is not in doubt. The visions1 of him experienced by the disciples in the aftermath of the crucifixion and their receiving of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost played a vital part in giving momentum to his movement, especially in the form of the early Jewish church. What is debatable, however, is the extent to which the pre-Easter Jesus had activated the spiritual receptivity and willingness of these men and women to promote his cause. In other words, were these individuals primed pre-Easter for their encounters with Jesus post-Easter? I do not mean they expected to see him post-Easter:  certainly they did not. What I do propose is that they were more closely attuned to him than is commonly recognized, having been greatly influenced by his character

1

Mark 16:1–8; Matthew 28:1–10; Luke 24:1–12, 13–35, 36–49; John 20:1–10, 11–18, 19–22, 24–29; 21:1–25; 1 Corinthians 15:6 (Jesus appeared to more than 500 people at one time) and 1 Corinthians 15:7 (Jesus appeared to his brother James).

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and way of life, particularly with respect to prayer and caring for those in need. Over the years, scholars have tended to minimize Jesus’ spiritual nature by pigeonholing him into specific roles such as prophet, wisdom teacher, healer and exorcist, political activist, social reformer, wandering charismatic, or failed religious visionary.2 Clearly he did fulfil some of these roles, for example healer and exorcist, and wisdom teacher, and acted with an authority which was much commented on by the Evangelists. But, as Dunn (1975, 41–67) argued in a landmark study, Jesus and the Spirit, it was his consciousness of the Spirit or power of God flowing through him that underlay this authority, together with his realization of divine sonship. This set him apart from others and fuelled his eschatological ministry. In chapter 1, it was shown that the kingdom of God or rule of God motif pervades the Synoptic Gospels, and it is evident that Jesus’ primary purpose relates to this quite simply. He was a channel for the rule of God to be realized – a power he fervently believed would imminently embrace all Israel, bringing justice and liberation for the oppressed. This dawning of a new age was already self-evident with respect to his successful healings and exorcisms, whereby he gained a widespread reputation both in his own lifetime and subsequently. Foreshadowed by John the Baptist, and proclaiming the impending rule of God, Jesus rose to prominence in early first-century Palestine. The magnetism of the man swiftly caught the attention of the local people, and crowds constantly expecting miracles often followed him (Mark 10:1; Matthew 4:25; Luke 9:11, John 6:2; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xviii.63–64). He was remembered by the Evangelists for displaying deep compassion in noticing the socially marginalized members of society, such as the poor widow giving all the money she had to the Temple treasury (Mark 12:41; Luke 21:2),3 and the lonely invalid, crippled for thirty-eight years, who had no one to help him at the healing pool called Bethesda – that is, until Jesus arrived (John 5:1–14).4 But it should not be 2

3

4

Prophet (Goergen 1986, 154; Riches 1990, 103), moral teacher (Perkins 1990), wisdom teacher (sage) (Borg 1987, 97–14; Witherington 1994), holy man (Vermes 1993; 2001; 2003), healer and exorcist (S. L.  Davies 1995; Remus 1997), philosopher (Crossan 1991), political and social reformer (Horsley 1987), Jewish renewal movement leader (Borg 1984; 1987, 125), wandering charismatic (Theissen 1978), revolutionary (Brandon 1967), and failed religious visionary (Schweitzer 1906). Dunn (2003, 221) argues for the oral authenticity of the two pericopes. This suggests an early date. The topographical accuracy of the account argues for authenticity (Meier 1994, 680– 681). See also the archaeology of the Bethesda Pool in chapter 4.

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forgotten that Jesus had some wealthy followers, as for example Joseph of Arimathea, who, after the crucifixion, asked Pilate for Jesus’ body to bury (Mark 15:43; John 19:38).5 The marginalized also comprised ‘sinners’, and Jesus is depicted as someone criticized by the Pharisees6 for associating with them. As Sanders (1985, 177–178) states, ‘sinners’ were clearly criminals, breakers of the Mosaic law. But Jeremias (1971, 109–112) also suggested that they were a mixture of those undertaking ‘despised trades’ and those who were ‘uneducated and ignorant’ peasants, the common people. It is important to note here, however, that no standard interpretation of the law existed within Second Temple Judaism.7 Sanders (1992, 47–49) has helpfully distilled the essence of a common Judaism in the Second Temple period, comprising reverence towards the Temple, belief in God, and knowing that the Jewish nation was the chosen people of God. Nevertheless, a variety of viewpoints have been identified, some leading to particular practices:  for example, a stricter observance of the purity laws outside the Temple by the Pharisees and the Essenes. The members of these particular groups, as described by Josephus (Jewish Antiquities xiii.297–298, xvii.42, xviii.20–22), comprised a fraction of the population, and Dunn (2003, 280–281) has proposed that their diverse natures did not constitute different Judaisms, but rather ‘different versions of Judaism practised by different groups of Jews’. Importantly, their practices emanated from the bedrock of the common Judaism practised by the masses. Such a diverse Judaism tended to engender factionalism in which the more dominant group vilified the other, often in an attempt to segregate it from society.8 This is well documented in the literature of the period, where the ‘wise’ or ‘righteous’ are contrasted with ‘sinners’. For example, in the Psalms of Solomon the ‘righteous’ rail against the ‘sinners’ who are clearly their adversaries; such sinners were most likely the Hasmonean Sadducees controlling the Temple cult, and their accusers the Pharisees (Psalms of Solomon 3:3–7; 4:1, 8; 9:5; 10:3, 6; 13:6–12; 15:6–7). Thus ‘sinners’ were

5

6

7 8

Martin Biddle (1999, 119)  has undertaken a painstaking examination of the site of Jesus’ burial in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, and while his research concentrated on the later encasements of the tomb, his findings indicate that much of the original first-century rock-cut chamber survives. Deines (2014, 86) claims that the depiction of the judgemental Pharisees in the Gospels rings true from 30 to 70 ce and is not a reflection of the later rabbinic era, since neither rabbis or Pharisees were a dominant force immediately after the Jewish War. Dunn 2003, 529. Dunn 2003, 529–531. This paragraph is based on Dunn.

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not necessarily those who disobeyed the commandments and Jewish law in general, but rather those who practised a wider embracing Judaism than the more stringent factionalism that was currently in vogue. Jesus’ detractors, the Pharisees, commonly used the words ‘tax collectors’ and ‘sinners’ with reference to his dining companions (Mark 2:15–17; Matthew 11:19; Luke 7:34). And one may well wonder what kind of sinner Jesus associated with; as Dunn (2011b, 99) has pointed out, Jesus’ response to the Pharisees is critical for determining this. He is recalled as saying: ‘I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners’ (Mark 2:17). Here the word ‘ “sinners” was a factional term within the Second Temple Judaism of Jesus’ time’ (Dunn 2011b, 99). Tax collectors were particularly despised by all classes, since their working arrangements brought them into close contact with the authorities, both Herodian and Roman; thus, they could easily be viewed as ‘collaborators and quislings’ (Bond 2012, 18). Sharing a meal with such individuals and those called ‘sinners’ denoted acceptance and recognition – Jesus was extending the hand of friendship in order to create an open fellowship which united society. This was a society that included the sick and the poor. However, the Pharisees were renowned for championing the laws of tithing and purity, which potentially divided society. The inability to tithe meant social and religious excommunication:  Pharisees would simply have refused to sit down at table with non-observant Jews.9 Marcus Borg sees this separation as ‘the politics of holiness as separation’, something that was having a very real effect on Jewish social life; this, taken together with economic pressures linked to the payment of temple tithes, could well have resulted in a large number of so-called ‘sinners and outcasts’ (Borg 1984, 27–72; 1987, 87, 91–92). Furthermore, in his more recent publication, Conflict, Holiness and Politics (1998, 10–16), rather than seeing Roman oppression as having precipitated this ideology Borg proposes the Temple as being the root cause, as an exploitative system run by the priests and scribes. In my chapter 2 considerable evidence is presented demonstrating that there was corruption on the part of the chief priests that directly affected the poor. Holiness and purity went hand in hand.10 The purity laws formed the core of the Jewish religion and set the Jews apart from other 9 10

Borg 1987, 89. Purity did not mean free from ‘dirt or personal hygiene … it concerned the proper observance of religious rituals that distinguished the “clean” from the “unclean” ’ (Simmons 2008, 60).

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nations and brought them closer to God; these laws encompassed many aspects of everyday life, including food and its preparation.11 Sanders emphasizes an important point:  ‘Most purity laws, however, are not prohibitions; they do not require people to avoid impurity. They regulate, rather, what must be done after contracting impurity in order to enter the temple’ (Sanders 1985, 182–183). In other words, impurity was not regarded as a sin. Still Dunn (2002, 451–452) has stated that breaking the holiness code or entering the Temple while impure were sins.12 This code had been compiled with reference to the Temple only, the hub of the Judaic religion and the motivation for purity and rituals of purity. However, it would seem that during the Hasmonean period the Pharisees were bringing the purity rituals out of the Temple and into the community. Josephus relates that they handed down various traditions to the people, indicating a concern for the holiness of all the people (Jewish Antiquities xiii.297).13 So this was not just the sole prerogative of the priests. Indeed he states that, unlike the Sadducees, the Pharisees were popular with the people (the people’s party), so much so that the chief priests who controlled the Temple followed their pronouncements (Jewish Antiquities xiii.297–298, 408–409; xviii.15, 17; Jewish War ii.162–163). Josephus also declares that the Pharisees were greater in number than all the major sects, and were the most zealous in their traditions (Jewish Antiquities xiii.298; xviii.15, 17). Certainly, at the time of Jesus, such pronouncements were already widely embraced by the populace, and this is evident in the widespread occurrence of archaeological purity indicators in Galilee and Judea (stone vessels and miqwa’ot). The purity indicators (see chapter 4) could be viewed on occasion as indicative of differences in status as regards the following: bathing in a miqweh (ritual bath) in preference to the nearby brook/lake, or washing unclean vessels using water from large stone water jars as opposed to smaller stone vessels or a spring. Thus the name Pharisees (possibly meaning ‘the separated ones’) may indicate those who have separated from society through the use of purity indicators.

11

12 13

Sanders (1985, 182–187; 1992, 214–229) has detailed the principal impurities and the necessary purifications. Leviticus 19:8; 20:17; 22:9; Isaiah 6:7; 1 Enoch 5:4; Palms of Solomon 8:12–13. Hengel and Deines 1995, 30–1 and 46–7; Dunn 2002, 454–455.

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In contrast to the purification procedures practised within and without the Temple, a distinctive water rite was drawing large crowds into the Judean desert (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xviii.116; Mark 1:5; Matthew 3:5–6; Luke 3:7; John 3:23). This rite involved being totally immersed in the River Jordan, an act that symbolized not only purification but also the forgiveness of sin. And it was being performed by an ascetic living in the desert and surviving on locusts and wild honey – John the Baptist. The appellation ‘Baptist’ is highly significant and underlines that John himself was undertaking the immersion; if others had been involved one would expect the term to be subsumed into ‘the baptizers’. This singles John out as someone special, one whom the people highly respected. Indeed, he is referred to as a prophet (Matthew 11:7–9/Luke 7:24–26) ‘a fact of significance in itself since the title had rarely been accorded or merited since Malachi’ (Dunn 2003, 349). Baptism by John the Baptist was a once-only immersion for the forgiveness of sins, and this is stated both in Josephus and the Synoptic Gospels (Jewish Antiquities xviii.117–118; Mark 1:4; Matthew 3:11; Luke 3:3). These texts indicate that John expected those baptized to have repented before God prior to the baptism, so that the immersion was literally a metaphor for forgiveness.14 The Gospel references to forgiveness occur in conjunction with the imminent arrival of the eschatological baptism by Jesus through the Holy Spirit. That John was enabling anyone to be forgiven their sins, providing their consciences were clear, was diametrically opposed to the Mosaic law as advocated and practised by the priests at the Temple in Jerusalem. Here the sin offering15 was of paramount importance. Dunn (2002, 459; 2003, 359) has pointed out that the language Josephus uses is ‘cultic in character’ in associating John’s baptism with the ‘excusing’ of sins of those who were baptized (epi tinōn hamartadōn paraitēsei). Indeed, the word for sin (hamartas) is frequently used in Josephus’ description of the ‘sin offering’ (Jewish Antiquities iii.204, 230, 238–240, 249). However, John makes no mention of the prerequisite of making a ‘sacrifice’ or performing an ‘act of atonement’. Dunn makes the important observation: In a sense, baptism took the place of the sin-offering. That was the really distinctive feature of John’s baptism: not that he rejected the Temple ritual on the 14 15

Acts 13:24; Simmons 2008, 152. A sacrifice performed by the priests in the Temple on behalf of an individual for an unintentional (purification offering) or deliberate sin (moral fault) (Sanders 1992, 107–110).

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grounds that repentance alone was sufficient; rather that he offered his own ritual as an alternative to the Temple ritual. Perhaps we should even say that John the Baptist in baptizing played the role of priest. (Dunn 2003, 459)

This last remark may well be highly significant since an isolated pericope in John’s Gospel describes priests and Levites16 coming from Jerusalem to ask John who he is, presumably under the instructions of the high priest (John 1:19). A steady flow of people travelled into the Jordan desert to be baptized by John (Mark 1:5; Matthew 3:5; Luke 3:7; John 3:23), despite the fact that his rite contravened Jewish law. And thus it would appear that many people were turning away from the Temple. What did this mean? Could economic reasons have played a part in this surge for alternative purity rites because poor and sick individuals were having difficulty in paying the sin offering, and indeed meeting the Temple obligations in general? There is considerable evidence in the Gospels that the population suffered from a variety of illnesses, and it is plain from molecular research on human bones that two serious and lifethreatening diseases were around at the time of Jesus  – tuberculosis and leprosy (Hansen’s Disease).17 Physical sickness was seen as punishment of sins by God, while mental afflictions constituted demonic possession.18 Indeed, Hooker (1991, 110)  has aptly highlighted the contempt with which ‘disease’ was generally regarded, the translation of the Greek word for disease in Mark’s Gospel being ‘scourge’. To be labelled a ‘sinner’ in this regard would have had tremendous implications for mental welfare, and an alternative purification rite may well have proved attractive. Undoubtedly Jesus was baptized by John, as all the canonical Gospels confirm. And, almost certainly, this would have affected his beliefs at the beginning of his ministry: that one could bypass the Temple ritual with regard to the forgiveness of sin, and be cleansed once and for all providing one had a contrite heart before God. Such an early association with John sets the pace for his own ministry and also its location. But Jesus soon set himself apart from him to usher in the kingdom of God. And unlike John he did not avoid visiting the Temple.

16

17 18

Both priests and Levites served in the Temple and both positions were hereditary; the Levites were descended from one of the twelve tribes of Israel (Sanders 1992, 77). See chapter 5. Vermes 2003, 8.

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John the Baptist is described as a prophet, not as a healer (John 10:41), while Jesus was clearly a healer, and this is one of the main themes running through the Gospels. That Jesus made a great impact on people with regard to healings, both physical as well as mental, is strongly attested by the Evangelists (see chapter 5 for important details concerning Jesus’ healing ministry).19 At first sight, Jesus appears to be an exceptional example of the early Hasidim or ‘devout ones’, his healings resembling those carried out by first-century Jewish healers.20 Such Jewish miracle workers were not numerous. However, there is no mention of cures for deafness, dumbness, and lameness.21 Furthermore, the power for Jesus’ healing miracles was accessed through faith: specifically faith in him and his ability to heal.22 Indeed, this emphasis on faith distances Jesus from Judaic and Hellenistic miracle workers.23 Eric Eve (2009, 6)  has pointed out that in Second Temple literature ‘healing stories are rare and stories about exorcism are even rarer, while spectacular miracles of national deliverance, punishment of the wicked, provision in need, or accreditation of God and his messengers are far more common’. Accomplishing far more healings than any other individual, even Elijah and Elisha, Jesus, as described in the Gospels, is undoubtedly pre-eminent in his healing ministry.24 Jesus’ approach to healing was simple, often using touch or announcing the recovery of a sick person. He did not use potions, spells, or amulets: his authority alone was sufficient. And the same was true of his exorcisms in which he commanded the evil spirit(s) to depart from the afflicted. While the miracles pointed to Jesus’ exceptional powers, they ‘enhanced his prophetic authority and established him as someone through whom God was active’ (Bond 2012, 108). Indeed, the Hebrew scriptures often relate healings to the new rule of God, the eschaton, and this is shown by the Isaiah passage that Jesus refers to when John the Baptist’s disciples later question him as to his identity (Luke 7:18–23/Matthew 11:2–6).25 So the imminent arrival of the kingdom of God which Jesus fervently proclaimed is closely linked to his miracles, both healings and exorcisms.

19 20 21 22

23 24 25

Dunn 2003, 670. Vermes 2001, 60. Stanton 2001, 67. Dunn 1975, 74; 2003, 501–502. Dunn (2003, 501) states that ‘a striking feature is that the majority of the references to faith (or lack of faith) occur in relation to miracles’. Dunn 1975, 168. Eve 2009, 7. Bond 2012, 108.

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In one healing miracle Jesus is remembered as declaring the person’s sins forgiven:  the healing of the paralytic man (Mark 2:1–5; Matthew 9:1–8; Luke 5:17–26). Forgiveness of sin is an important concept at the heart of the Gospels and the message of Jesus, nowhere more so than in the Lord’s Prayer, the wording of which has hardly changed (see chapter 1, p. 25). Hägerland (2006) has commented that in the Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11:4/Matthew 6:12) there is no graphic confession of sin (repentance), but only the asking of God’s forgiveness based on the petitioner’s forgiveness of others. On the surface this appears somewhat confusing, particularly whether human forgiveness is conditional on divine forgiveness or vice versa, but Dunn (2003, 591–592) states that it is pointless debating this; both emphases are important, in that society is only sound when forgiveness is both given and received. And Graham Stanton points out this is not a bargain between the individual and God, rather it is a state of mind in that if one is willing to forgive then God will forgive (Stanton 2002, 11).26 Notwithstanding, Hägerland makes a distinction between moral and ritual repentance, in that Jesus would surely have expected the former if not the latter (Hägerland 2006, 166). Thus some so-called ‘sinners’ were those who had not openly repented along the lines of the Temple ritual, but had demonstrated to God and Jesus their change of heart. This starkly contrasts with the covenantal theology at the heart of the institutionalized penitential prayers of the Second Temple era.27 Thus it would appear that Jesus’ teaching on the forgiveness of sins, like John’s, radically differed from mainline Judaism at the time, where visible repentance of sins through the sin offering was demanded in the Temple.28 This shows why he was so strongly criticized for associating with ‘sinners’ as well as those individuals practising their own version of Judaism (see introduction to this chapter), particularly by participating in meals with them (another common theme in the Gospels). However, there is one important exception to this – the lepers – who were encouraged by Jesus to show themselves to the priest and make a sin offering.29 Perhaps this is

26

27 28 29

Stanton (2002, 11) states: ‘God is entreated to forgive their sins, but not because they have forgiven others … which would suggest a bargain with God. They know they can seek God’s forgiveness only if they are willing to forgive others.’ Hägerland 2006, 178–180. Vermes 1993, 192; Dunn 2003, 787. ‘He reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cleansed. Jesus sent him away at once with a strong warning: “See that you don’t tell this to anyone. But go, show yourself to the

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not too surprising given the infectious nature of skin diseases and indeed the devastating effect of leprosy (Hansen’s Disease),30 and shows Jesus as a sensible and pragmatic man. Jesus is remembered as healing on the Sabbath and such incidents have been recorded in all the Gospels, thus underlining their authenticity; for example, the healing of the man with the withered hand (Mark 3:1–5/ Matthew 12:9–13/Luke 6:6–10); the healing of the crippled woman (Luke 13:10–16); the healing of the paralysed man at the Pool of Bethesda (John 5:1–11); and the healing of the blind man near the Pool of Siloam (John 9:13–16). Such memories also recall that he was strongly criticized by the Pharisees, for in doing so he transgressed the law. Notably, in the first case Jesus was ‘deeply distressed’ and ‘angry’31 at those accusing him of such healing. These particular Sabbath actions could indicate ‘a sense of urgency to his mission’ (Magness 2016b, 114) rather than just sheer compassion. Nevertheless, Jesus’ inclusive approach to healing demonstrates his concern that all should be able to enter the kingdom of God in a pure and unblemished state (see chapter 5 for details). And this inclusion of the poor and destitute as well as the wealthy for healing singles Jesus out as an individual with integrity and compassion. For Jesus the law was encapsulated by only two commands:  ‘ “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these” ’ (Mark 12:29–31). James Dunn (2011b, 112–113) has pointed out that Jesus ‘lived by the love command’: ‘For Jesus it was not possible to love God with all one’s heart unless one also loved one’s neighbour as oneself.’ And, significantly, he pointed out that it must have been Jesus who took the second commandment from Leviticus 19:18 and gave it ‘pre-eminence’, since it is not mentioned outside Leviticus prior to him. The Evangelist John (13:14) also recalls Jesus giving the ‘love command’ during the Last Supper after Judas left to betray him. This legacy of loving others was well established in the early days of the Christian church, as evidenced by Paul’s reference to it in his letters

30 31

priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your cleansing, as a testimony to them.” ’ (Mark 1:41–44). See also Matthew 8:4; Luke 5:14; 17:14. Identified in Jerusalem, see chapter 5, p. 117. He also showed anger at the way certain villages were ignoring his message (Luke 10:13– 15/Matthew 11:21–24).

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(Romans 13:9; Galatians 5:14), and also by James (2:8), Jesus’ brother, in his epistle.32 Jesus’ Spiritual Life Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him. (Psalm 37:7)

As stated in the introduction to this chapter, James Dunn (1975) recognized the importance of Jesus’ consciousness of the Spirit of God, a consciousness ‘empowering him’ and ‘inspiring him’ that fired his mission. The awareness of God as his father and the experience of spiritual power in healing led Jesus to believe he was heralding a new kingdom. Dunn also suggested that there might have been a more substantial spiritual side to Jesus’ overall mission that has subsequently been lost.33 For many Jews in the early part of the first century, prayer was a key feature of their religious lives;34 indeed, individuals described in the pseudepigraphical books are portrayed as praying often.35 Since prayer was commonly practised by Jews, it has been suggested that the specific Gospel references to Jesus praying may well indicate that he was more observant in this respect than other Jews.36 The Evangelist Luke records that before choosing the apostles, Jesus spent the whole night in prayer on a mountain (Luke 6:12–13). And he is described as engaging in deep prayer at the time of certain other momentous events. For example, Mark attests that Jesus retreated to pray at four critical moments in his life: 1) after a mass healing in Capernaum, prior to his ministry in Galilee (Mark 1:35–37); 2) in choosing the twelve disciples (Mark 3:13); 3) after the Feeding of the Five Thousand (Mark 6:46); and 4)  at Gethsemane prior to his arrest (Mark 14:32).37 Some of these, with additions, have been noted in Luke.38 That is, 1)  at his baptism (Luke 3:21); 2) in choosing the disciples (Luke 6:12); 3) prior to asking the disciples who they thought he was (Luke 9:18); 4) at the Transfiguration (Luke 9:29); and 5) at a ‘particular place’ [Gethsemane] on the Mount of Olives (Luke 22:39 and 40). And prayer in the form of thanksgiving came naturally to Jesus; for example, for the food before the 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Dunn 2003, 584; 2011b, 114. Windisch 1928, cited by Dunn 1975, 88. Jeremias 1967, 72. Sanders 1992, 202. Marshall 2001, 116. Dunn 2003, 646. Marshall 2001, 118.

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Feeding of the Five Thousand, and at the Last Supper (Mark 6:41; 14:22). He also stressed the importance of prayer in exorcism (Mark 9:29). Notably, Jesus regularly prayed to God as a son to a father, using the Aramaic word Abba which means ‘father’; this contrasts with the more formal nature of contemporary Jewish prayers.39 And while the use of Abba is not unique to Jesus, the frequency of usage is. Dunn sees this father–son relationship as the key to understanding Jesus’ spirituality, a personal relationship which moulded his character and directed his mission (Dunn 1990, 186–188). He does not develop this further, except to point out that this prayer mode would account for the periods of time Jesus withdrew from society, to be alone in prayer ‘when he unburdened himself to God in his own words’. Certainly, the Gospels record that in order to pray by himself Jesus retired secretly to the desert or a mountain (Mark 1:35/Luke 4:42; Mark 1:45/ Luke 5:16; Mark 3:13; Mark 6:32/Matthew 14:13; Luke 6:12; John 6:15; 10:40; 11:54). That John’s Gospel corroborates the Synoptics is strong evidence that this actually happened. This appears to have occurred frequently, since on certain occasions the people knew exactly where he was going; for example, prior to the Feeding of the Five Thousand they arrived there before him (Mark 6:33). To withdraw to such remote areas indicates that this kind of prayer required peace and quiet, not something readily available in a bustling village, or among a dozen eager disciples intent on asking questions. Furthermore, the time taken to reach such places would suggest that these were no swift retreats but involved a more lengthy process of spiritual communication, one that would eventually have been devoid of words. Such an endeavour would have involved stilling the mind, that is, eradicating all extraneous thoughts to centre on God, and this exercise is mentioned in the Psalms (see above, Psalm 37:7 and Psalm 46:10). Indeed, it is notable that Galilean holy men ‘stilled their minds’ for at least an hour in order to direct their hearts to heaven and focus on God.40 Thus, it is proposed that Jesus most likely practised this form of simple contemplation.41 39 40 41

Dunn 1990, 126. Borg 1987, 44; Vermes 2003, 36–37. ‘But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen’ (Matthew 6:6). The room referred to may be metaphorical, as most small houses in Palestine would not have had separate rooms (Marshall 2001, 117). Although this specific reference is not paralleled in the other Gospel accounts, the sentiment certainly embodies how Jesus himself prayed and would have advocated prayer.

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John Ashton has proposed that the experiences Jesus underwent at his baptism and in the desert, where he was tempted by the devil, were vital episodes in his life, when he began to develop this close father–son relationship with God; furthermore, he suggests such a spiritual connection enabled Jesus to become both a ‘prophet-preacher’ and an ‘exorcisthealer’ (Ashton 2003, 18). Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist is recorded in all the Gospels (Mark 1:9–11; Matthew 3:13–17; Luke 3:21–22; John 1:32–34). However, while the baptism itself is not in doubt, scholars have questioned the veracity of what happened at the event as described by the Gospel authors.42 That is, do the Gospel accounts originate with Jesus or have they resulted from later Christian romanticizing? At his baptism, as Jesus emerged from the water, the heavens opened, and the power (Spirit) of God descended on him in the form of a dove;43 then the voice of God declared that he was his beloved son (Mark 1:10–11). There are links here to charismatic Judaism in that Jewish holy men occasionally heard ‘heavenly voices’ declaring they were ‘God’s son’.44 But if this really had happened, surely Jesus would have told the disciples, and, if so, one would expect his account to have become an important part of his teaching recounted in his own words, not ‘from the viewpoint of the narrator’ (Dunn 2003, 375). Nevertheless, this must have been a special moment, the essence of which would not have been bandied about to all and sundry. Following his baptism, he lived in the desert for forty days where he was tempted by the devil (Mark 1:12–13; Matthew 4:1–11; Luke 4:1–13). This period of time mentioned by the Evangelists is symbolic, and almost certainly reflects the forty days and forty nights Moses spent fasting in the wilderness while receiving the Ten Commandments (Exodus 34:28; 1 Kings 19:8). Jesus’ withdrawal from society is entirely credible given that Paul lived in the desert for three years after his vision of the resurrected Jesus (Galatians 1:16–18), and Josephus followed the ascetic, Bannus, into the wilderness, to seek guidance on his spiritual life (Life 11).45 Here too Jesus could contemplate his relationship with God and ultimate mission.

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Meier (1994, 105) claims the theophany is Christian editing. Davies and Allison (1988, 1.334): The Spirit ‘likened to the hovering of a dove’ is reminiscent of Genesis 1:2. Notably, birds are traditional messengers of the divine (Kim 2007, 12). ‘The descent of the Spirit clearly shows a sense of being anointed by God, set aside for a particular purpose (see Isaiah 61:1), as, too, do the divine words drawn from Psalm 2:7 and Isaiah 42:1’ (Bond 2012, 85). Borg 1987, 41. Bond 2012, 86.

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With respect to the temptations, yet again we are presented with a story about Jesus which was not related by him.46 Thus it is possible that these stories have resulted from later Christian embroidery. However, the fact that he fasted and endured many trials, physically, mentally, and emotionally, may well have a kernel of truth (Mark 1:12; Matthew 4:1; Luke 4:1). During this period it has been suggested that Jesus became a spiritpossessed healer.47 But he was no shaman. The power did not possess him since he was consciously aware of God’s power operating through him through his exorcisms.48 Indeed, the essence of the temptations later distilled by Luke and Matthew may well be an important echo of Jesus, one which underlined his mission: ‘Man does not live by bread alone’ (Luke 4:4/Matthew 4:4).49 Here, away from human and material distractions, he would have been able to engage in prayer and contemplation. Moreover, he could have spent several years in such an environment gaining the spiritual discipline he ultimately showed in moments of crisis. In the closeknit society of Second Temple Judaism, where family loyalties were all important, and families lived in close proximity, Jesus’ established prayer patterns most likely came into being through an extended sojourn away from community life. Like the accounts of Jesus’ baptism and his temptations in the desert, the description of the Transfiguration takes on a new light when viewed against Jesus’ spiritual life (Mark 9:2–8; Matthew 17:1–8; Luke 9:28–36). While the theological significance of the event has been much discussed in relation to Jesus as a prophet,50 scant attention has been accorded to whether the Gospel accounts may contain some reference to the spiritual practice of Jesus and his disciples. Indeed, there are some important points to take on board with reference to this. Firstly, the canonical Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration all agree that it happened on a mountain, and, given the prominence of mountains in relation to Jesus’ retreats for prayer, this provides an important context for the event.

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Dunn 2003, 380–381. S. L. Davies 1995. Dunn (2003, 379) has contrasted the different Synoptic accounts and interestingly suggests that Mark has ‘strong echoes of the characteristic account of the shaman driven into the bush by the inspiring Spirit to undergo a testing or purifying experience for his future role’. Similarly Ashton (2003) sees Jesus under the influence of spirit possession. Dunn 1975, 47. Deuteronomy 8:3. Dunn 2003, 666.

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Secondly, there is an extraordinary change in Jesus in that his face ‘shone like the sun’ (Matthew 17:2) and ‘his clothes became dazzling white’ (Mark 9:3). This compares well with the description of Moses who after meeting with God on a mountain top had a radiant face of numinous quality, so much so that Aaron and the Israelites were afraid to come near him (Exodus 34:29–30). However, it seems that Matthew has embellished Mark’s account with Mosaic features in order to make Jesus appear greater than Moses.51 When Stephen was accused and brought before the Council in Jerusalem, he was full of the spirit and had a face ‘like the face of an angel’ (Acts 6:15). Although there is little agreement on the validity of these accounts, this does not deny the reality of the original experience, since there are other accounts of such changes in visual appearance. For example: Angus Wilson (1992, 156–157) draws attention to the Buddha demonstrating similar features in his lifetime, and Dale Allison (2009, 72–73) points out that there is a ‘surprisingly large body of firsthand testimony’ concerning people transfigured into light, for example Gregory of Nyssa, a Cappadocian father (fourth century ce) writing about his brother Basil.52 Thirdly, the disciples are ‘afraid’ (Matthew 17:6–8; Mark 9:6; Luke 9:34), and these Gospel pericopes have a distinct numinous quality. In contrast to Jesus’ baptism and temptations in the desert, it is evident that the Evangelists are describing the scene through the eyes of Jesus’ closest disciples (Peter, James, and John). The disciples are the ones experiencing the vision of Jesus transfigured with Moses and Elijah present. Further, it is the disciples who hear the voice of God and are fearful. What are we to make of such an event? John Ashton highlights Morton Smith’s incisive observation that ‘Christian faith as based on the resurrection experience has overlooked the fact that the resurrection experience was presumably based on Christian faith’ (Ashton 2003, 20).53 In other words an understanding of Jesus’ religious practice was vitally important in enabling the disciples to be ready for ‘the resurrection vision’. As Morton Smith points out, the Transfiguration is illustrative of ‘such preparatory experiences’. Indeed, Ashton goes further and suggests the disciples joined Jesus in his mystical experiences (Ashton 2003, 20).

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Davies and Allison 1991, 2.705. Brother Anandamoy (Self-Realization Magazine 2005, 50), in a tribute to Ananda Mata (1915–2005), recalled an incident when she came out of her office and answered the phone: ‘to my utter amazement I saw light all around her – a whole sphere of light’. M. Smith 1980, 39–44.

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This implies these particular disciples (Peter, James, and John) were more advanced than the others and had reached a greater spiritual awareness. As at the Transfiguration, Jesus’ powerful presence could be somewhat disquieting. For example, Jesus was clairvoyant: apparently he could read people’s minds (Matthew 9:4, 12:25; Luke 5:22, 6:8, 9:47, 11:17; John 2:24). Notably, John’s Gospel corroborates the Synoptics. And because this particular attribute is frequently mentioned in the Gospels, its historical authenticity is claimed as valid.54 Further, at times Jesus instilled a fearful awe in the disciples: ‘They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to happen to him’ (Mark 10:32). Dunn (1975, 76–77) has contrasted this passage with other Gospel passages where there are ‘more stereotyped expressions of astonishment’, and suggests that set against the broad picture of Jesus’ sayings it can be considered genuine. Indeed, Geza Vermes (1993, 75) has commented on the force of the words, which emphasize the presence of Jesus and the power streaming from him.55 The curious incident following the Feeding of the Five Thousand where Jesus was said to have walked on water and alarmed his disciples also has a numinous feel to it; the disciples were ‘terrified’ and ‘frightened’ (Mark 6:45–52 and John 6:16–21). That this account follows both the Markan and John so-called ‘feeding miracle’ could be significant, and there may well be a link between the two events. Although Jesus called God his father (Abba), there is no record of him ever having claimed to be the ‘Son of God’.56 Nevertheless, there are numerous references in the Gospels of a ‘Son of God’ dimension.57 In understanding the term ‘Son of God’, one should be aware of its use in Jewish texts. The Wisdom literature shows that the wise and righteous ones were sons of God (Sirach 4:10; Wisdom of Solomon 2:18). And (as stated above) Jewish holy men sometimes heard heavenly voices declaring them to be God’s sons.58 Hence it seems unproblematic 54 55

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Dunn 1975, 83. Vermes (1993, 75): ‘this passage renders with supreme simplicity and force the immediate impression of the numinous that issued from the man Jesus, and no artistry of characterization could do it so powerfully as these few masterly and pregnant words’. Dunn 2003, 723. Mark 1:11; 3:11; 5:7; 9:7; 12:35, 37; 13:32; 14:61; Matthew 8:29; 11:27; 14:33; 17:5; 22:42–45; 27:40, 43, 54; Luke 1:31, 32, 35; 4:3, 9, 41; 8:28; 9:35; 10:22; 20:13, 41–44; 22:70; John 1:49; 5:25; 11:27; 19:7; 20:31. Borg 1987, 41; Vermes 1993, 180.

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for Jesus or others to use the expression in his lifetime, although one sees the wisdom in restricting usage much in the same way as he did with ‘Messiah’. Indeed, adopting the term ‘Son of God’ challenged the Roman emperor’s claim to the title, thus risking the penalty of high treason.59 As we have intimated above, Jesus’ father–son relationship with God was based on contemplation well away from the distractions of the temporal world. This gave him authority. According to Stanton (2002, 193), authority is a Greek word which translates as ‘the notion of power which comes from God’. And this authority was most evident in his exorcisms (Mark 1:23–27; Luke 4:33–36). In contrast to other exorcists Jesus did not use spells or amulets:  his commanding presence and voice were enough to free an individual from powerful demonic influence.60 The frequency and distinctiveness with which he qualified his sayings with Amen for powerful effect is also evidence of his authority; such expressions do not occur in the remaining New Testament or Jewish literature in general (Mark 3:28).61 James Dunn (1990, 186) has made the important point that ‘his claim to authority put himself at odds with past and present Judaism; this was something that came from within him, it wasn’t taught to him’. The Synoptics record that Jesus gave his disciples authority over evil spirits, when he started to send them out on their mission to proclaim to the people the coming new world order – the kingdom of God (Mark 6:7; Matthew 10:1; Luke 9:1). It appears they were not always successful, as in the case of the deaf and dumb boy (Mark 9:28). This suggests that either the disciples had taken this authority for granted, or they lacked trust in Jesus’ power. Jesus underlined the importance of prayer in this particular exorcism, most likely meaning that this was an exercise that only he could undertake and succeed in (Mark 9:29). And this raises the question as to how far the disciples had been initiated in spiritual matters. With regard to the Matthean mission, Hooker has pointed out the authority given by Jesus is linked to the Holy Spirit (Hooker 2004, 30). But it is important to understand that the giving of the Holy Spirit to the disciples was a momentous event, only occurring after the resurrection at Pentecost (Acts 2:1–4), and that prior to this the power came through Jesus. 59 60 61

Crossan 2007a, 28. Bond 2012, 106 Dunn 2003, 700–701; 2011b, 16.

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Ben Witherington (1995b, 37) has suggested that there is a strong link between Mark’s depiction of Jesus teaching his disciples in private (Mark 4:10–13, 34; 9:30) and that of John’s, where Jesus tells his disciples he will no longer speak figuratively but plainly (John 16:25). The fourth Gospel author characterizes Jesus as a sage teaching wisdom to his disciples behind closed doors (John 13–17) along the lines described in Ben Sira 51:23.62 Indeed, it has been proposed such teaching would have consisted of discussions and meditations.63 Jesus is remembered as teaching his disciples to pray with the assurance that their prayers would be heard by God, and that they were to persist in prayer (Luke 11:9–13/Matthew 7:7–11). Evidently Matthew and Luke had different ideas of petitioning, but certainly given the tenor of Jesus’ teachings the asking most likely refers to both material needs and spiritual insight. Further, regarding material needs, these were fairly basic – eggs, fish, and bread.64 It is likely that the author of the fourth Gospel adapted this tradition of prayer known to Matthew and Luke: ‘Very truly I tell you, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name’ (John 16:23–24). The petitioning in the Lord’s Prayer also concerns basic needs such as bread, but this prayer also demonstrates that Jesus encouraged his disciples to address God as their father, just as he did, and to pray for the advent of the kingdom (Luke 11:2–4/Matthew 6:9–13, see chapter 1, pp. 24–27). Jesus’ prayers are short and to the point and such prayers are highly memorable. The Aftermath of the Crucifixion They all joined together constantly in prayer, along with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers. (Acts 1:14)

In the aftermath of the crucifixion Luke records there were few followers left – 120 all told (Acts 1:15). Possibly this figure has been underestimated, but it may be germane that the author of John’s Gospel describes many disciples deserting Jesus (John 6:66). This incident follows on closely from the Feeding of the Five Thousand, and one wonders whether there may be a connection here to Jesus’ refusal to be made king;65 however, the ordering of the material in John’s Gospel, certainly with regard to the

62 63 64 65

Witherington 1995b, 26, 37. Riesenfeld 1957, 63, cited by Witherington 1995b. Bond 2012, 106. See chapter 1, pp. 18–19.

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Temple scenes, does not follow the Synoptic pattern. Notwithstanding, perhaps the people’s comment recorded in verse 60 holds weight: ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?’ (John 6:60). The disciples and followers of Jesus portrayed in Acts are undoubtedly characterized by their prayer lives, and Joel Green (2001, 183) has described them as a ‘people of prayer’. Prayer was a way of life for both men and women, and took place privately in houses (Acts 1:14; 12:12) and openly in the Temple, the latter showing a distinct continuity with Judaism (Acts 3:1). That the disciples were ‘constantly in prayer’ is notable (see opening quote of this section), as is the fact that their later followers (stated to number ‘about three thousand’) held steadfast to the teachings of Jesus and prayer (Acts 2:42–46). Indeed, the parables of the Persistent Widow and the Friend at Midnight in the Gospel of Luke highlight the importance of persistence in the act of prayer (Luke 11:5–8; Luke 18:1–8).66 And, as we have seen, this accent on prayer is something that Jesus would have encouraged. In comparing the Synoptic Gospels, references to prayer feature much more in the Gospel of Luke than those of Mark or Matthew, and it has been suggested that the Lucan Evangelist clearly understood the vital importance of prayer to Jesus and his mission.67 However, since Luke wrote both the Gospel of Luke and Acts, it is necessary to query whether he might have overemphasized the disciples’ commitment to prayer. And in order to do this we need to examine other contemporary literature such as the Epistle of James. Although James is rarely mentioned in the Gospels, Paul tells us that Jesus appeared to him shortly after the crucifixion (1 Corinthians 15:7). Like his brother Jesus, he was clearly respected by the disciples, as shown by his later being made head of the church in Jerusalem and being remembered as James the Just. Richard Bauckham (1999, 16)  has pointed out that the letter was addressed to the diaspora, that is ‘the twelve tribes scattered among the nations’; further, that ‘early Jewish Christians thought of themselves not as a specific sect distinguished from other Jews but as the nucleus of the Messianic renewal of the people of Israel which was under way and would include all Israel’.68 This is underpinned by the eschatological nature of the letter, where clearly the disciples are waiting for the ‘Lord’

66 67 68

Marshall 2001, 122. Marshall 2001, 116. Prior to the Romans destroying Jerusalem in 70 ce, the diaspora Jews were in greater number than those inhabiting Israel itself.

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(Jesus) to return (James 5:7–9). But how reliable is the Epistle of James for gauging the continuity of Jesus’ mission? Indeed, can we be sure that the letter is attributable to James? With regard to the latter, Bauckham (1999, 23–24) proposes that James could well be responsible for the written letter in Greek. However, Dunn (2009, 1128–1129) prefers to view the letter as having resulted from the transcription of an earlier oral version by a later writer, perhaps after James’ execution or even after the Jewish rebellion.69 Notwithstanding who the author is, the epistle can be viewed as comprising memories of James and his teaching by the Jewish community in Jerusalem. And the important point to notice is that this teaching shows great similarity not only to the Wisdom literature of the Second Temple Judaic Period, such as Ben Sira, Proverbs, and the Wisdom of Solomon, but also to that of Jesus. That is, there are great similarities between the ‘sayings’ of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels and James’s letter, as there are in the literary forms employed to express them  – aphorisms and similitudes.70 Importantly, James appears to be following Jesus’ manner of teaching as a Jewish wisdom teacher; that is, he has taken on and developed this teaching without altering the overall content, adding his own experiences drawn from everyday life.71 Most scholars are in agreement that these similarities between Luke and James have stemmed from the use of oral rather than literary forms of the tradition.72 Indeed, Bauckham (1999, 74) states: ‘While long didactic poems and treatises were no doubt literary compositions, aphorisms were surely coined orally, used in oral teaching, and memorized… Literature functioned in the context of orality. Sayings did not pass out of oral vitality through writing. Much ancient literature lived on the verge of orality, and aphorisms are a prime case of a form that was essentially oral as well as literary.’

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Dunn (2009, 1129) also points out that the letter is not a proper letter since there are ‘no closing formulations’. In classifying the aphorisms in James, Bauckham (1999, 93) adopted the scheme used by David Aune (1991) to classify the aphorisms attributed to Jesus in the Gospels. ‘We have shown that the literary forms of aphorisms and similitudes in James not only reflect those used in the tradition of Jewish wisdom instruction, but correspond remarkably closely to the range of literary forms in which the aphorisms of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels are cast. We have also shown that James’ indebtedness to the traditions of the sayings of Jesus should not be understood in terms of allusion, but in terms of creative appropriation and re-expression.’ Bauckham 1999, 30. Kloppenborg 2007, 121.

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That James attached considerable importance to prayer is shown by the inclusio bracketed by 1:5–8 and 5:13–18.73 And the text itself demonstrates that prayer was of vital importance to the Jesus followers of the Jewish community in Jerusalem,74 in that they were encouraged to pray or to ask for prayer at all times whether happy, in trouble, or sick (James 5:13–14). Indeed, James states boldly: ‘The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective’ (James 5:16). While there is an eschatological tone to prayers for healing and forgiveness (James 5:13), clearly there is expectation of prayer imminently answered that depended solely on faith, for example in praying for wisdom (James 1:5–8). And importantly, such wisdom is ‘first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere’ (James 3:17–18). So James supports Luke in that the tradition of prayer Jesus taught was carried on in the post-Easter communities, as were his warnings against accumulating wealth (see chapter 2, pp. 48–49). Indeed, prayer was an important element of community life. It is evident that on occasion Jesus himself was appealed to in prayer, and this is hardly surprising given the strong faith of the disciples, evidently strengthened by the resurrection appearances. But clearly this falls short of actual worship, that is ‘Jesusolatry’ as defined and denied by Dunn (2010, 147–148).75 Indeed, like Jesus, James focuses on God and his authority  – not the authority of Jesus.76 But in the immediate aftermath of the crucifixion one thing was glaringly obvious – the kingdom in its entirety had not appeared. Certainly, the eschatological flavour of the Lord’s Prayer underlines the fact that God’s rule overall would happen in the future. And James and Paul were still expecting it to arrive through the Parousia (James 2:5; 1 Corinthians 6:10), although Paul’s expectations seemed to peter out later in his ministry. Nevertheless, whatever reservations the disciples and followers had over the timing did not prevent them from relating to God in the way

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Dunn 2009, 1140. Although written for diaspora Jews, it is clear James would have practised what he preached. Significantly, Dunn (2010, 147) underlines that the New Testament writers refer to Jesus as an icon (not an idol), meaning ‘a window through which the eye passes, through which the beyond can be seen, through which divine reality can be witnessed’. See Kloppenborg (2007, 125):  ‘James never expressly appeals to the authority of Jesus …’.

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Jesus had taught. His prayer life was not incidental to, but the very bedrock of, his convictions – as was theirs – kingdom or no kingdom. Summary Jesus was a man of compassion and authority with an aura that, on occasion, inspired considerable awe. Baptized by John the Baptist, Jesus was clearly influenced by him with regard to forgiving sins without recourse to the Temple ritual of atonement. But in contrast to the prophet John, Jesus was a healer, and a highly successful one. His championing of the ‘love command’, the second commandment, was a legacy inherited by the early church as evidenced by both Paul and James’ teaching. He is remembered for ministering to the marginalized, the less favoured in Judean society, which included the physically and mentally infirm, and the poor, and sat down at table with them. Jesus’ prayer life underpinned his mission. This was based on a close spiritual relationship with God which enabled him to turn to prayer at all times, including moments of uncertainty, danger, and ultimately terror. He encouraged his disciples to pray to God as their Father, just as he did, and with absolute trust. He also taught his disciples prayer on two levels: prayer for simple everyday needs, and prayer of a more spiritual nature in relation to the complete implementation of the kingdom. The Gospel portrayal of Jesus’ inner life is reinforced by the fact that both Acts and James bear witness to his emphasis on prayer. Moreover, the Epistle of James demonstrates the reality, importance, and individuality of Jesus’ wisdom teaching, something to be treasured and emulated. Vitally, this teaching on wisdom and especially prayer primed the disciples for the resurrection appearances, and sustained them in the establishment of the early church. The material in this chapter is referenced in at the end of chapter 5, which discusses the acute and chronic diseases prevalent in first-century Palestine. Thus Jesus, as a healer, can be viewed in context.

Part II JESUS IN CONTEXT: THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE

4 Jewish Identities and the Distribution of Ethnic Indicators

… particular types of material culture, such as ritual baths and synagogues, along with particular symbols, such as the menorah, are still to be taken diagnostically Jewish – and wherever they are found sites are interpreted as ‘Jewish’ sites. This whole procedure, however, depends upon the assumption that a fixed, one-to-one relationship persisted between specific types of material culture and a particular ethnic identity, in this case … Jewish identity. Furthermore, if Jewish communities are identified on the basis of such a range of fixed material traits then it also follows that Jewish culture and identity are assumed to be monolithic and homogeneous across diverse social and historical contexts. (Siân Jones 1998, 33–34)

Introduction In a landmark paper, ‘Archaeology, Ethnicity, and First-Century ce Galilee: The Limits of the Evidence’, Mark Chancey (2009) recorded that the distribution of stepped pools, stone vessels, and ossuaries had been investigated by three independent research projects (Reed 2000, 23–61; Aviam and Richardson 2001; Chancey 2002), and that all parties had concluded such items did inform on Jewish ethnicity to the extent that Galilee had been comprised of mainly Jewish residents. Notwithstanding, Chancey emphasized for this conclusion to hold water the indicators would have to be widely spread across an archaeological site. Moreover, the absence of stone vessels and stepped pools did not necessarily mean that Jews were absent, since some may have practised a different form of purity ritual, while others may have been simply uninterested. The difficulties of

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interpreting the archaeological data have been highlighted by Zangenberg (2007, 6) with respect to the work of Aviam (2004a, 132, 202–224; 2007) and Moreland (2004, 139); Aviam views a Galilee dominated by a Jewish population all of whom were practising purification rites, while Moreland urges caution since, in his estimation, the presence of indicators does not signify all the inhabitants were practising Jews. It was Jonathan Reed (2000, 44–51) who originally linked these indicators1 recovered from domestic sites to Jewish ethnicity. This observation had allowed him to make two propositions: firstly, that in the late Second Temple period Galilee and Judea were ‘remarkably similar’ (Reed 1999, 98–101), and, secondly, that such ethnic indicators demonstrated social stratification, in that they were status symbols (Reed 2000, 219). However, recent research, to be discussed below, has suggested significant differences between the two areas particularly with regard to stepped pools and ossuaries. Therefore, in this chapter we will compare and contrast possible halachic2 and socio-economic explanations for the distribution of the ethnic indicators in conjunction with other factors. Stepped Plastered Pools – Miqweh (Singular) Miqwa’ot (Plural) Miqwa’ot3 are ‘man-made installations constructed according to several regulations … to enable the observant Jew to purify himself when necessary, through full immersion (tevilah) of the nude body in water’ (Reich 2000, 560–561). Ronny Reich (1990; 2013) was the first to make an in-depth study of ritual pools from the Second Temple period and later rabbinic sources. According to rabbinic law, such potentially purifying water4 flowed into the pool without human aid, such as rainwater from the roof or a courtyard via gravity, as opposed to the pouring of drawn water obtained from a cistern; concomitantly the installation was cut into the ground and not fabricated. Miqwa’ot are not particularly large in size: for example, the cluster of small pools associated with the Jerusalem

1 2

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And pig remains (see section on ‘pig versus wild boar bones’, p. 100). Halacha (Halakha), meaning religious rules (see glossary, Hachlili 2005). By religious rules I do not mean the later Mishna but rather the rules of the late Second Temple period. Miqweh (singular), miqwa’ot (plural): transliteration provided by Professor Ronny Reich, pers. comm. According to rabbinic law, while the water is flowing it has not yet the power to purify; this occurs when the water in the miqweh reaches the minimum required amount (Ronny Reich, pers. comm.).

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Temple,5 and the domestic ones at Sepphoris which only just accommodate a human body. Notwithstanding, two of the most spectacular finds have been those of the pools of Siloam6 and Bethesda7 – enormous miqwa’ot – and places where Jesus is described by John the Evangelist as healing the sick (see below). The following account, however, will deal primarily with the domestic miqweh. Unless otherwise mentioned I have been reliant on the work undertaken by Yonatan Adler (2008, 2011, 2013, 2014a, 2014b) for the following three paragraphs. The interiors of the miqwa’ot were plastered and steps led down into them. At least 700 stepped pools have been identified from the late Second Temple period (200 bce–70 ce); they are found in private homes, near synagogues, burial grounds, agricultural installations (wine and olive pressing),8 and the Temple at Jerusalem.9 This varied distribution indicates that no one sect was responsible for their introduction.10 The earliest miqwa’ot were constructed in the Hasmonean period, that is at the end of the second century bce and the beginning of the first century bce, at Jerusalem, Jericho, Qumran, and Sepphoris. But it was in the first century ce that they became much more widespread. Only seventy stepped pools have been discovered in Galilee, as opposed to 600 in Judea, which include 170 from Jerusalem itself; the finds are spread right across the city, many occurring in a large number of wealthy properties. Stepped pools in Galilean villages are usually single and are situated near industrial complexes, as for example at Yodefat (olive and wine presses) and Gamla (olive press),11 and/or attached to a synagogue as at Gamla; it is assumed that the installations also served the whole community.12 They date to pre-67 ce and at least eight other Galilean sites had pools of a similar date.13 However, no stepped pools have been identified at Capernaum and it has been suggested that the nearby lake would have

5

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The two baths situated near the Temple Mount between the Huldah Gates measure 3 by 4.8 m and 1.4 by 4 m (Regev 2005, 194). Reich and Shukron 2004; 2011; Reich 2011. Gibson 2005; 2009; 2011a. Twenty miqwa’ot have been discovered which relate to agricultural installations, that is wine presses and olive presses mainly in the environs of Jerusalem, but there is also one at Gamla (Adler 2008, 63). Magness (2011, 16) states that ‘the biggest concentration of miqva’ot – and the largest miqva’ot – are associated with the Jerusalem temple and priestly groups’. Chancey 2009, 212. There are halachic requirements with oil and wine production. Aviam and Richardson 2001. Charlesworth and Aviam 2014, 130.

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been an acceptable substitute.14 A similar interpretation has been proposed for the lack of pools at Bethsaida. However, three miqwa’ot were found at the city of Magdala (Migdal), and Reich and Meza (2014) suggested that although the lake was nearby these were much more convenient to use in order to preserve privacy for larger numbers of people; according to rabbinic law ritual immersion involved ‘total nudity’, thus cordoning off parts of the lake would only work with village-sized settlements. But in contrast to all the other excavated pools, they are unplastered and the only examples known that used groundwater infiltration. Much debate has centred on whether all the stepped, plastered domestic pools were intended for ‘ritual’ use, and this poses the question as to whether they can all be interpreted as reflecting Jewish ethnicity. There is considerable variation in the shape and size of the miqwa’ot which questions the applicability of some of the rabbinic evidence for the late Second Temple period; that is, we cannot say for certain that the rabbinic construction rules apply to all miqwa’ot in the first century ce.15 The rabbinic texts also mention an additional component to the ritual pool, the ‘ozar’, which is a small pool/reservoir connected to the miqweh ‘with a pipe and a plug that could be opened or closed’; however, in hilly areas such as Jerusalem and its environs the miqweh–ozar application rarely occurs, with, for example, only one ‘ozar’ to sixty miqwa’ot having been excavated in the Upper City itself, indeed one ‘ozar’ to 170 in Jerusalem as a whole (Reich 2002, 52–54; pers. comm.). Notwithstanding, Yonatan Adler (2014b, 263–283), in examining the textual and archaeological evidence, rejects its use altogether, and suggests the ‘ozar’ was first introduced in nineteenth-century Europe. In Galilee a dense mass of stepped pools was discovered on the western acropolis at Sepphoris, dating to the late Hellenistic and Roman periods.16 Over a hundred stone vessel fragments and more than twenty miqwa’ot have been found in private residences there.17 The pools were either cut 14 15

16 17

Reed 2000, 50. Yonatan Adler (2014a, 861) in a review of Ronny Reich’s published dissertation (2013), questions the applicability of third-century rabbinic texts to the late Second Temple period, with regard to, for example, the minimum volume of water for immersion (40 seah/750 litres) and the use of drawn water invalidating a ritual pool. He points out that while ‘most ritual baths are trapezoidal or rectangular in plan, some display a round, ovoid or irregular design’, with capacities ranging from 500 litres to 300,000 litres (Adler 2013, 242). Meyers 1992, 321–338; 1999; 2002; Galor 2007, 210. Reed 2000, 49. In his examination of the Sepphoris installations, Ronny Reich identified twenty-two miqwa’ot (Reich 2002, 53). He pointed out that the three largest were

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into the bedrock of basements in small houses, or were constructed in larger residences by carving out caves which had tiny entrances. Although the majority of the pools are much smaller than those in Jerusalem, providing a ‘snug fit’ for a body measuring 5 feet to 5 feet 6 inches in height, they are able to contain an acceptable amount of water for immersion (40 seah/750 litres) (Meyers 2002, 211–213). The Sepphoris pools have been a source of contention ever since they were first excavated in the 1980s. One line of argument specified that in order to be assured that a pool had been used for ‘ritual’ purposes then a bathtub must be found in close proximity, and this bathtub would have served for washing the body.18 If no bathtub was discovered, then it was deemed that the pool was used for daily ablutions and played no part in purification practices. Meyers (2002, 213) has demonstrated that at Sepphoris, where there are no bathtubs, most of the pools are so small that it is difficult to carry out ablutions apart from simple immersion since there is no elbow room to rub or scrub the body. Moreover, Chancey (2009, 211)  argued that if many of these pools were simply for washing they should have been discovered on pagan sites, which is clearly not the case. So the presence or absence of bathtubs does not determine whether an accompanying pool is indicative of a ritual process or simply washing; indeed, it would appear that all these stepped pools are indicative of ritual Jewish immersion, but how frequently they were used is impossible to determine. Bathtubs denote socio-economic status. Carving out a bath from bedrock takes time and money, and undoubtedly such luxury items were carefully crafted. Perhaps it is not too surprising that they are only to be found in the homes of the wealthy. Similarly, it can be argued that it takes time to hew out a decent stepped pool, and only those Jews with suitable resources could have done this. As mentioned in the introduction to this section, Jonathan Reed has suggested the distribution of miqwa’ot in private Galilean homes was underpinned by socio-economic differences between households. He states: ‘miqwaoth found in private houses have been in wealthier urban homes (e.g. Sepphoris and Jerusalem). In village settings or rural areas they tend to be public in nature, either attached to synagogues (e.g. Gamla and Chorazin) or near olive press installations. For this reason the absence of miqwaoth in private houses at Capernaum

18

comparable in size and layout to the ‘Jerusalem type’ of miqweh (also recognized at Qumran). Thus he proposed that these larger ones could be dated to the Second Temple period prior to 70 ce. Eshel 1997, 132; 2000b.

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is less telling of ethnicity than socio-economic status; a miqweh in a private house indicates the relatively high socio-economic status of its Jewish inhabitants’ (Reed 2000, 157–158). However, Katharina Galor (2007, 210) challenged this interpretation. In her 2007 paper, Galor compared and contrasted the miqwa’ot and other water installations at Hellenistic Jericho, Roman Jerusalem, and Byzantine Susiya with those of Roman Sepphoris, and declared that where a bathtub was found this could be used as a measure of ‘social status’. The late Hellenistic palace at Jericho had the following water installations: bathtubs, cisterns, swimming pools, and stepped pools.19 And in the first-century houses of the wealthy quarter of Jerusalem there were stepped pools plus bathtubs and cisterns; excavations here also revealed striking polychrome mosaic floors and attractive wall paintings, elegantly carved stone furniture, terra sigillata ware, fine pottery, glass and alabaster ornaments, further emphasizing the status of the owners.20 Yet in the more modest homes of Sepphoris and Susiya, the absence of bathtubs demonstrated the householders as having had ‘limited economic means’ (Galor 2007, 210). Consequently, Galor concluded that while bathtubs were only found in wealthy homes, stepped pools occurred right across the socio-economic spectrum. Further supporting evidence for Galor’s thesis is provided by the fact that if the building of stepped pools was totally dependent on certain economic means rather than religious affiliation, then we would expect more to have been found in the wealthy sectors of settlements such as Yodefat and Gamla in Galilee. This is certainly not the case. Moreover, ‘hundreds’ of miqwa’ot have been identified at ‘dozens’ of rural sites in Judea, and frequently several pools have been uncovered at one site, sometimes only a village or farmstead:  for example, Ben Shemen (eighteen), Horvat Burnat North (seven), Horvat Burnat South (eight), Horvat ‘Ethri (at least four),21 and Nesher-Ramle (eleven). Thus it is apparent that these water installations in first-century Palestine were used by the whole of Judean society, from the elite to those of much humbler status. It is notable that the stepped plastered pool was introduced into Palestine during the second half of the second century bce, at the same 19 20 21

Netzer 1978; 1997, 5–31, cited by Galor 2007, 209. Avigad 1984. Zissu and Ganor 2009.

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time as the Hellenistic hot bathhouse.22 Such stepped pools have been discovered at Jericho.23 Regev (2010, 207)  has claimed the miqwa’ot excavated in Herod’s royal bathhouses were ‘an integral part of the bathing complex’. This is an important point and one first proposed by Reich (1988, 106) who stated that ‘the frigidarium, which in Roman baths usually took the shape of a rather shallow cold-water basin, sometimes located in a round room with niches in the circular wall, is the sole architectural element fundamentally different from its Roman counterpart. Here, in place of the common frigidarium, we have a comparatively deep stepped water installation. This installation is identical in layout, arrangement of stairs, type of plaster, etc., to the water installations identified as miqwa’ot, familiar from Jerusalem and other locations.’ This was challenged by Benjamin Wright (1997, 197–198) who claimed that the frigidaria of Roman baths were not always shallow and varied greatly in shape and size, and while not as deep as for example the Masada ones, one could still dive into them. He also refuted an identification based on the frigidarium having a separate entrance (see Hoss 2005, 47), since examples of frigidaria in separate rooms had been found in the baths at Pompeii and Herculaneum, whereby access was only gained through the apodyterium (entrance), thus signifying the independent operation of the frigidaria. However, the close association of miqwa’ot with bathrooms in first-century bce/first-century ce houses in Jerusalem belonging to the priestly aristocracy suggests that many of the palace frigidaria are most likely miqwa’ot. And additional evidence is provided by the adoption of caldaria with hypocausts within several such residences; significantly these were located close to the miqwa’ot.24 Indeed, Avigad (1984, 142)  has pointed out that ‘The bathrooms, ritual baths, and cisterns were generally centred round a common vestibule, forming a single unit within the house.’ Sixty miqwa’ot have been identified in the excavations of a number of private residences located in the Upper City of Jerusalem; these had been hewn out of rock in the basements adjacent to the bathrooms, the complexes consisting of cisterns, bathtubs, and occasionally footbaths. Figure  4.1 shows one bathroom containing a stone bathtub, and a miqweh and possibly another miqweh adjacent to it, although this has been described as a ‘store pool’ or ‘ozar’. Sometimes the more luxurious 22 23 24

Reich 1988, 104. Reich 1997, 430–1. Avigad 1984, 142; Reich 1988, 103–104.

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Figure  4.1 Bathtub and adjacent ritual pool (miqweh) in the Jewish Quarter. From Avigad, Discovering Jerusalem (Oxford: Blackwell, 1984), p. 160, fig. 175. By permission of Hillel Geva and the Israel Exploration Society.

dwellings had more than one miqweh; for example the Palatial Mansion had five.25 These miqwa’ot ranged in size from ‘small open pools’ to ‘spacious ritual baths impressively vaulted in fine stonework and having broad, stepped entrances’ (Avigad 1984, 142). Miqwa’ot were commonly constructed in basements in order to avoid the intense light which promotes algal growth.26 One important point to note is that to install an Upper City miqweh, particularly the larger ones, would have been an expensive and technically difficult undertaking given the quality of rock carving. Returning to the Herodian palaces, bathhouse frigidaria converted into miqwa’ot have been observed at Jericho, Cypros, Masada, Herodium, Machaerus, and Caesarea.27 According to Regev forty-one possible stepped pools were identified in Herod’s palaces and associated buildings; eighteen of these could be directly linked to the palaces themselves and thirteen acted as frigidaria. It would appear ritual purity was important to Herod, his family, and court. Moreover, as Regev (2010, 25

26 27

Avigad 1984, 139–143; Reich 1988, 106; 1997, 430; Geva 2000, 29, 88, 96–97; Eilat Mazar 2002. Reich 2002, 53. Adler 2013, 244.

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211) underlines: ‘the merging of the two [bathhouse and miqweh] into a single installation bears a strong cultural message: the aim and need to combine Roman cultural luxury and social status with Jewish religious (or better: halakhic) piety’. And this was clearly something emulated by the Jerusalem aristocracy. Notwithstanding, the bathhouse of Herod’s third winter place at Jericho contains a distinctly Roman frigidarium, circular and shallow with four niches; that it was built by Roman masons is further indicated by use of the opus reticulatum construction technique.28 On the north side of the palace three stepped plastered pools had been built. In comparing the number of stepped pools identified in Galilee and Judea, where Galilee appears to have far fewer (see earlier), Kloppenborg proposed that this reflected a real difference in the Halacha practised between the two areas (Kloppenborg 2000, 233, cited by Chancey 2009, 211). However, Aviam (2013a, 45) has underlined a strong halachic unity between Galilee and Judea through the archaeological remains. Both areas are characterized by imageless Hasmonean and Herodian coins, a lack of figurative oil lamps, and local rather than imported pottery, the latter possibly indicative of religious concerns. A petrographic analysis of some of the oil lamps from Yodefat (Galilee), that is the knifepared or Herodian lamps dating from 25 bce to 125 ce, showed they had been manufactured in Jerusalem. This type of lamp dominated the lamp sample  – 78%  – and a similar percentage has been identified at Gamla. Furthermore, in an extensive investigation of Jewish and nonJewish sites, Adan-Bayewitz et al. concluded that most of the knife-pared lamps found in northern Jewish towns and cities came from Jerusalem (Adan-Bayewitz et al. 2008, 37–85, cited by Aviam 2013a, 33–35). Aviam also pointed out that most of the lamps found in tombs of the first to second centuries ce are knife-pared ones. He suggests that this particular lamp epitomizes Jewish religious belief at that time, and that ‘there was a mystical, emotional, and spiritual connection between the holiness of Jerusalem and light’. Interestingly, a stone table was found in an early first-century synagogue29 at Migdal (Magdala) depicting an eight-branched Menorah within the Temple, again a strong spiritual link between Galilee and Jerusalem

28 29

Ronny Reich, pers. comm. Netzer 2001, 1.232; Plan 36. First-century ce synagogues have been found at Gamla, Magdala, Masada, Herodium, Qiryat Sefer, Modi῾n, Capernaum, and Cana (Meyers and Chancey 2012, 208–217), and possibly at Khirbet Qana and Capernaum (Levine 2014, 129–150).

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with an emphasis on light.30 The Migdal synagogue is characterized by frescoes and mosaics indicating some Jews were prepared to ‘assimilate and adapt Hellenism’ (Zangenberg 2010, 482). The Gamla synagogue was larger without such embellishments although made of quality ashlars. Although there appears a stark contrast in the numbers of miqwa’ot between Judea and Galilee, current research suggests there is no solid evidence that socio-economic factors have affected this. While a common Judaism is clearly identifiable which strongly binds both areas (see above), there is evidently room for expression, as described by Andrea Berlin (2005, 453):  ‘The variable distribution of mikva’ot suggests a comparable variability in attitudes and behaviours, with purity considerations falling along a continuum.’ Indeed, the current state of research suggests Galilee and Judea can best be viewed at opposite ends of the spectrum. This is the hard evidence of archaeology and this diverse31 Judaism, underpinned by a common Judaism, is at one with the findings using textual evidence as presented in the first part of this book (see chapter 3, p. 55). Stone Vessels (Herodian Stoneware) Utensils made out of stone are frequently recovered from early Roman archaeological sites in Galilee, Judea, and the Golan.32 They are rarely found in the diaspora. The types of stoneware range from small vessels ideal for eating, drinking, and serving food at the table, to large vessels suitable for holding drinking water and for washing and purifying tableware, as described in Mark 7:4 (Figure 4.2, see also Figure 6.5).33 Some items were turned on lathes, small and large, while others were hand carved. Indeed, hundreds of hand-made mugs34 have been found, with some having two handles, suggesting they were used for hand washing, the mug easily passing from one hand to the other.35 The importance of this ware for the Jews is that, in contrast to pottery, metal, or glass, stone is

30 31

32 33 34

35

Aviam 2013a, 41; 2013c. I prefer to use the term diverse (or indeed varied) instead of variable because the emphasis is on variety rather than change. Diverse is the term that New Testament scholars use when discussing the different kinds of Judaism practised in the late Second Temple period (see the introduction to chapter 3). Reed 2000, 44. Strange 2007, 241. I am following Shimon Gibson’s plea to replace the meaningless term ‘measuring cup’ with ‘mug’ (Gibson 2003, 293). Strange 2007, 245–246.

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Figure 4.2 Stone vessels from the Burnt House in the Jewish Quarter. Courtesy of Zev Radovan/BibleLandPictures.com

not liable to impurity,36 and hence such ware has important implications for the purity of the individual.37 This increasing concern for purity of the individual raises an important question still to be resolved and which will be considered in this section: why have so many stone vessels been found in Galilee and yet so few miqwa’ot?38 Clearly, both are strongly associated with the purity laws of the late Second Temple period. There is clear evidence for the use of stone vessels in the late first century bce in the Herodian Mansion of the Upper City in Jerusalem.39 The mansion was abandoned in the late first century bce when a road was paved over it, thus effectively sealing and preserving the deposits below. A reliable date has been proposed for the commencement of the ossuary industry (see below), and it is notable that there is a close connection with both this industry and that pertaining to the stone vessels. Firstly, stone vessels were produced using comparable raw material, similar techniques, and decorative styles.40 Secondly, given the stone waste left over from constructing an ossuary, it would make sense for the two industries to

36

37 38 39 40

Since stone vessels are not explicitly mentioned in the Torah as being potentially subject to impurity, this would have provided an added spur to their adoption and usage. Regev 2010, 206. Kloppenborg Verbin 2000, 233, cited by Chancey 2009, 211–212. Geva 2006, 32, 218–238. Cahill 1992, 232.

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be associated. Indeed, the stone quarry excavated at Jebel Mukabbir just outside Jerusalem yielded ‘stone blocks cut in the same shape and size as ossuaries’ together with incomplete stone vessels, and the former were viewed by the excavators as incomplete ossuaries (Rahmani 1978, 107). Also at the Hizma quarry some ossuary fragments were found in association with stone vessels.41 Thirdly, it seems likely that the emergence of the stone vessel industry was linked to ‘technological developments in stone-masonry as a result of Herod’s building projects’ (Reed 2003, 384–385). Thus we can be confident in dating the beginning of the stone vessel industry to the latter part of the first century bce (see ossuary dating below). Their use dwindled after the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce, and they vanish altogether after the Bar Kokhba revolt in the early second century ce.42 In a study of material from the quarry at Hizma, outside Jerusalem, and the Temple Mount, Yitzhak Magen (2002, 163) proposed that the distribution of stone vessels was related to the Halacha. But the miqwa’ot distribution and the sheer ubiquity of stoneware recorded from both Judea and Galilee indicates the likelihood of additional factors affecting the spread of this material. Hence Gibson (2003, 304) and Stuart Miller (2003) have proposed that there may have been a more practical everyday use for such objects rather than just a solely ritual one. Chancey (2009, 210) countered this suggestion by stating that, if so, then stone vessels should have been found over a much wider area and in specific Gentile contexts. This is a valid point but does not preclude a utilitarian factor operating in conjunction with purity concerns; it would make considerable sense for Jewish men and women to choose to remain in a state of purity while eating ‘ordinary’ food served from stone dining services (Regev 2010, 206). The stone vessel industry is characterized by:  1) the easily available raw material; 2) the large number of workshops producing a plethora of vessel types; and 3) the widespread distribution of vessels across all types of settlement.43 Berlin (2005, 433)  does not consider that stone vessels

41 42 43

Gibson 1983, fig 1.14. Cahill 1992, 225–232; Magen 2002, 162; Reed 2003, 383–384. Berlin 2005, 433. During the early first century ce there were at least sixteen workshops solely producing stone vessels in Palestine, including five large manufacturing sites located in caves in the vicinity of Jerusalem and another at Reina in Lower Galilee; it is evident from the debitage recovered that many settlement sites, towns, and villages acted as centres of production but on a smaller scale as compared to the six large production centres (Berlin 2005, 430). There is also another workshop in Galilee currently under

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were items of prestige since in her estimation they were easily produced; however, Avigad (1984, 176) has queried this since the soft stone could easily break in manufacture, and also because of the appreciable weight of the material, especially with regard to large items. Certainly the production of large vessels or jars depended on considerable human expertise and sophisticated machinery with respect to the lathe; this, and the eventual transport costs from producer to consumer, could only result in an end product deemed to be a luxury item.44 Although hand-carved vessels, such as mugs, would have been relatively cheap, hence their wide distribution, they probably would still have cost more than pottery.45 What is more, Reed (2003, 392–398) has found that the size and shape of large stone vessels relate to social stratification. He compared and contrasted the distribution of the ware across three archaeological sites in Galilee:  Nabratein (Upper Galilean village), Capernaum (Lower Galilean village), and Sepphoris (city/town). Although fragments of stone vessels were frequently excavated on all the sites, large jars, turned on large lathes, were not found at Nabratein, rarely occurred at Capernaum, but were much more abundant at Sepphoris, where 15% of the fragments came from such vessels. These vessels were also found in the early Roman excavations of the wealthy Jewish Quarter at Jerusalem, for example the Burnt House and Palatial Mansion.46 So large lathe-turned vessels were scarce in Galilean villages, and appear to have been purchased only by the rich mainly in urban environments. Clearly large stone jars are informing on status. Magen (1994, 248) has observed that ‘the great variety of forms [of stone vessels] stems from the many attempts to imitate, in stone, utensils in common usage [my italics] such as imported ceramic ware and metal, glass or wooden vessels … The manner of working also reflected the models copied: turned stone vessels usually were imitations of metal and wooden vessels also made on a lathe and of imported pottery vessels thrown on a wheel; stone vessels made manually strove to imitate handcrafted wooden vessels and items of furniture.’ That stone vessels often copied metal, pottery (terra sigillata), and glass items could be because the latter were expensive to import and purchase; hence, costs were reduced

44 45 46

excavation by Yonatan Adler and Dennis Mizzi at ‘Einot Amitai, which is adjacent to Reina and has often been confused with it (Dennis Mizzi, pers. comm.). Reed 2003, 393–394. Dennis Mizzi pers. comm. Avigad 1984, 174–176.

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by replacing these table and decorative wares with stone imitations.47 This would appear a move to cater for the masses, since the Herodian aristocracy continued to acquire such Roman goods and simultaneously enjoyed high-quality architectural features including exquisite mosaic floors and frescoes.48 Andrea Berlin (2005, 431–432) grouped stone vessels into 1)  large jars, 2) large mugs, 3) service vessels, such as large bowls and trays, and 4) dining vessels, such as small dishes, and questioned whether all the types pertained to Jewish purification rites. Notwithstanding, it is important to realize we have no contemporary texts that can verify this, and it is vital that earlier scholars’ assumptions do not slip into the published literature. Berlin surmised that only types 1 and 2 could hold water and were used in purification rites, and that types 3 and 4 suggested other factors were at work with regard to why they were produced. She also noted like Magen with the latter types ‘that many of these forms are close versions or even exact copies of imported fine glazed or silver vessels’, and she interpreted this as signifying ‘ethnic pride and attentiveness to Judaism’ (Berlin 2005, 431). The act of imitating does not indicate anti-Roman feelings especially on the part of the Galileans, a theory Berlin originally promoted (Berlin 2002). Indeed, the copying of imported pottery and metal vessels demonstrates a self-sufficiency in production. In answer to the question raised in the opening paragraph (why have so many stone vessels been found in Galilee and yet so few miqwa’ot?), I  propose that utilitarian factors combined with purity considerations account for the much wider distribution of the stoneware in contrast to that of the miqwa’ot, which were entirely focused on ritual. This reflects a common Judaism observable in both Galilee and Judea. However, in contrast to the miqwa’ot distribution, an initial study of stone vessels has indicated socio-economic elements also play a part, with higher-status sites being characterized by larger and more expensively produced items. It is unfortunate that most of the excavated material has not been quantified in any way since this is vital for any further progress to be made. As Gibson (2003, 292) has stated, ‘It would be instructive to know the overall quantity of material found at sites, the ratio of hand-carved to 47

48

By using stone to copy with rather than pottery these items met both status and ritual needs. It is important to note there are no pottery versions of the stone mugs and pitchers (mugs with a spout), and this reinforces the suggestion these are ‘cultic vessels’ (Aviam 2013a, 33). Aviam has also suggested pitchers were used to fill oil lamps, since small or large, the capacities are roughly equivalent. Avigad 1984.

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lathe-turned vessels and the relative quantities of subtypes of vessels that have been identified.’ Ossuaries The practice of ossilegium, the gathering of the bones of the dead for secondary burial, dates back to at least the Chalcolithic period (4,500–3,400 bce) in Palestine (and even earlier with other Near Eastern burials) and continued into the Graeco-Roman period.49 Both the primary and secondary burial took place within the context of a rock-cut tomb. In the Iron Age, Hellenistic burial methods were introduced into Palestine; the walls of the burial cave were provided with loculi,50 which are niches carved in a perpendicular plane to the wall, each niche able take a corpse. When the niches were full, bones from decayed bodies were scooped into a pit or piled up on the floor, the latter sometimes leading to the use of an adjacent chamber as a charnel room. During the reign of Herod the Great (37–4 bce) there was a surge in the production of specially made receptacles – ossuaries – to house the bones. These chests or boxes were usually carved out of a single block of stone but were occasionally made of clay or wood.51 Certainly, ossuaries have been recovered from earlier periods but not on such a scale and with such craftsmanship. While they continued to be used until the Second Jewish Revolt leading to the Bar Kokhba War (132–135 ce), there had already been a marked reduction in supply after the first revolt of 70 ce.52 The main issue still to be resolved is who or what influenced the Jews to concentrate on this mode of secondary burial. In this section I will compare and contrast the most pertinent theories, with the view of finding plausible explanation(s) for the ossuary’s meteoric rise in popularity in the early first century. While remains from Judea primarily figure, those of Galilee will also be considered. In the process I will also address other questions, such as 1) whether differences in the material and decoration of ossuaries reflect differences in wealth and status; and 2) whether secondary burial was undertaken by all members of society, both rich and poor.53 49 50

51 52 53

Meyers, 1970; 1971. Loculus (s.), loculi (pl.) (Latin) = kokh (s.), kokhim (pl.) (Hebrew). A niche carved at right angles to the tomb wall. Cahill 1992, 216; McCane 2013, 267. Chancey 2009, 213. Chancey 2009, 215.

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The Palestinian ossuaries were mainly found in rock-cut tombs outside Jerusalem, Jericho, and in the Shephelah.54 The most common type of tomb is the kokhim tomb; each tomb comprises a courtyard and a central room with kokhim55 embedded in its three walls. Ossuaries were located in the kokhim, on shelves around the room, and also on the floor. In the Jerusalem cemeteries and hinterland over a thousand such tombs have been discovered,56 and in the Jericho cemeteries more than a hundred.57 At least 1,500 ossuaries have been found emanating from the Second Temple period and most of them belong to the Jerusalem tombs; they were made of chalk or sometimes more resistant limestone. Some scholars have suggested that Jewish religious beliefs were undergoing a profound metamorphism with respect to views on the resurrection of the body. N. T. Wright (2000, 10) has underlined: ‘There was a spectrum of beliefs about the afterlife in first-century Judaism, just as there was in the Greco-Roman world.’ Those scholars supporting the resurrection theory include Rahmani (1994, 53–55) and Strange (2007, 247). However, indisputable references to the resurrection are scant in ancient Jewish literature, apart from Daniel 12 and 2 Maccabees 7.  Arguing against a resurrection explanation, Fine (2001) pointed out that ossuaries disappear after the Romans sacked Jerusalem in 70 ce, which demonstrates their usage was closely linked with the city’s prosperity and economy. Magness (2005, 136) also argues against the association of ossuaries with resurrection, stating that, if this was so, then they should become more common after 70 ce when such beliefs were ‘normative in Judaism’. Moreover, there are no contemporary sources connecting the use of ossuaries with resurrection beliefs such as flesh decaying from bones expiates sin.58 The main problem with a belief in the resurrection is that the Pharisees believed in physical resurrection of the dead while the Sadducees did not,59 and the ossuaries in the rock-cut tombs contained the elite of Jerusalem – many of whom were Sadducees! Ofra Guri-Rimon (Hecht Museum, University of Haifa) has suggested that stone ossuaries might have been used to contain the impurity of

54

55 56 57 58 59

The Shephelah (Hebrew meaning ‘Judean foothills’) is a low-lying area in south-central Israel to the west of Jerusalem (between Mount Hebron and the coastal plain) covering 10 to 15 km. The information in this paragraph is based on Aviam 2013b. See note 50. Kloner and Zissu 2007. Hachlili and Killebrew 1999, 4. Fine 2001, 1; McCane 2007, 235. Acts 23:8; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xviii.12–16.

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the dead individual, in much the same way that stone lids and stoppers were thought to ensure the purity of the contents in pottery containers (suggested by the Mishna).60 This need not necessarily detract from other ideas of use, and would make sense why the Sadducees participated in this burial rite. However, the Dead Sea sect at Qumran, noted for its rigid adherence to purity ideals, did not use ossuaries and this would appear to rule out such a use. Ossuaries are associated with rock-cut tombs of the elite and Roman influence (see below), and such an association would have been anathema to the ascetic Qumran community, who preferred to bury their dead in trench graves in the way of the lower classes.61 Indeed, there are much more compelling reasons as to why society adopted the use of ossuaries. Levine (2002, 264–265) was amongst the first to point out that there was a direct parallel to the Jewish ossuaries – the Roman cinerary urns62 – which held the ashes of the dead after the Roman burial rite of cremation. Prior to this Rahmani (1994, 58) had claimed ‘the shape of ossuaries was based on the common household boxes and chests used throughout the Hellenistic and Roman worlds’, so in his estimation it was not surprising that remains from different areas bore some semblance of similarity. There is a wide range in shape and size of the Roman containers, which varied according to the status of the deceased. Indeed, Toynbee stated that ‘the burnt bones and ashes of the body were placed in receptacles of various kinds – in marble altar-shaped ash-chests, small ash-chests of marble, stone or rectangular boxes or caskets (all of them richly adorned with reliefs) and in marble, alabaster, gold, silver or bronze vases or urns (the well-to-do) or in lead canisters, glass vessels, and earthenware pots (the relatively poor)’ (Toynbee 1971, 50). Levine also drew attention to the Ephesus ossuaries (of similar date to the ones from Palestine) with reference to western decoration, which Christine Thomas had studied; Thomas (1996, 393) concluded that ‘the classes carrying Roman citizenship led the vanguard in these shifting styles, first from plain ossuary to garland ossuary and then to the sarcophagus. The Ephesian evidence suggests that social class and conspicuous consumption were solely

60

61 62

http://mushecht.haifa.ac.il/abstract/23/23e_1.pdf. Also biblical legislation (Numbers 19:14) mentions that the contents of sealed vessels, probably referring to clay stoppers, are protected from corpse impurity (Dennis Mizzi, pers. comm.). Berlin 2005, 462–463; Magness 2011, 160. Roman cineraria – small stone boxes containing cremated bone; Jewish ossuaries – stone boxes containing intact bones.

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linked in the choice of burial container.’ This is highly significant in light of interpreting the Jewish material. Magness (2005, 121) also relates the use of ossuaries in Palestine to the Roman burial practice of cremation and views the rite ‘as one aspect of the adoption of Hellenistic and Roman fashions by Jerusalem’s elite during Herod’s reign’. She links this custom (cineraria/ossuaries) to further Graeco-Roman influence with respect to the affluent material culture constituting ‘imported and locally produced consumer goods appearing around 20–10 bce’ recovered from the Jewish Quarter excavations of the Upper City which housed Jerusalem’s wealthiest inhabitants (p. 138). Furthermore, the burial methods of the later Roman period in Galilee lend support to the proposal that Roman burial practice heavily influenced the Jews. At the cemetery of Beth Shearim in Lower Galilee, dated to the second and third centuries ce, the main burial method was that of inhumation in stone sarcophagi; clearly this was following contemporary rites in Rome and her provinces.63 Another suggestion to account for the thousands of ossuaries excavated is that the prosperity and increased employment generated by Herod’s building and commercial activities may have precipitated an increase in population; space was at a premium in the packed tombs and it was difficult to add further chambers, so putting bones into boxes and stacking them made more room for further burials.64 However, ossuaries tend to be ‘stacked up on shelves or niches where they consume rather than conserve space’ (McCane 2013, 268). And Chancey (2009, 214) has argued that this would not apply to sparsely inhabited regions such as Galilee. Moreover, Fine (2000, 73) pointed out that there must have been other reasons besides lack of room to account for the ossuaries since Byzantine monasteries in the Judean deserts retained charnel chambers. Additionally there is evidence that the size of the average family was decreasing in the early Roman period.65 In the First Temple period, prior to 586 bce, there were large communal family tombs headed by a patriarch, but by the late first century bce small family tombs with kokhim emerged; Goodman (1987, 68– 69) proposed that this change had been caused by social and economic pressures. Regev (2004) acknowledged such processes in operation, but claimed that the smaller family which emerged in the Herodian period 63 64 65

Magness 2005, 136–137. Crossan and Reed 2001, 239; C. A. Evans 2003, 29. Regev 2004.

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was a direct result of the urbanization of Jerusalem; furthermore, that it was this reshaping of the family that had brought to the fore the importance of individualism66 within society. Steven Fine was one of the first to suggest that this increasing preference for ultimate interment in an ossuary as opposed to the ‘anonymity’ of a charnel chamber signified the increasing importance of the individual(s) within the family, and he related this to ‘the sense of the individual as it was developing within the greater Greco-Roman context’ (Fine 2000, 75–76). Indeed, McCane (2007, 235), strongly supporting the idea of individuation, stated that ‘it was the increasing influence of Hellenistic cultural norms valorizing the human individual which led Palestinian Jews to develop a form of secondary burial that preserved individual identity’. Individual identity was examined by Peleg (2002) using skeletal material from eighty-one ossuaries recovered from Jerusalem and Jericho. In general, ossuaries contain either the skeletal remains of one person or, if a multiple burial, two or more closely related family members, for example wives buried with husbands, sons with fathers, and young children with mothers. Peleg found that 60% of the ossuaries contained multiple interments (multiple-interment ossuaries), while 40% contained only one individual (personal ossuaries). More men than women were buried in personal ossuaries, that is 37% men as compared with 23% women; moreover, a higher proportion of men had their names inscribed on ossuaries than women. Interestingly, it would appear more men than women were being individualized. While these factors point to the patriarchal nature of Jewish society, at the same time it is evident that quite a few women held an important place within it. Nevertheless, we still have to account for the fact that a large proportion of ossuaries held several individuals, thus questioning the notion of true individuation. These multiple burials do not, in Fine’s estimation and that of others (Crossan and Reed 2001, 239–249; Chancey 2009, 214), undermine the notion of individuation, in the sense that Jews as family members were being accorded more validation than those ending up in a charnel pit comprised of many generations. Clearly individual nuclear families were 66

Fine (2000, 75–76), Crossan and Reed (2001, 239–249), Chancey (2009, 214), and McCane (2007, 235)  all use the term individuation (OED:  distinguish from others of the same kind), while Regev (2001; 2004) and Peleg (2002) use the term individualism (OED: the habit or principle of being independent and self-reliant). Regev and Peleg have used this word in the sense of the identity of the individual, as have the aforementioned scholars. I will use the term individuation.

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being recognized and remembered, and at the same time some men and women were also being accorded status within the family – status within a high-class family. As Regev (2001, 44) underlines: ‘The bones take the place of the deceased’s individual self, representing his [her] identity and position in the familial (or other reference group) cave.’ And it is the standing of the individual within the Jewish family that is important, not solely the individual him or herself. Notwithstanding, we should remember that this burial practice reflects that of the Palestinian upper/ middle classes and not the poor who were buried in trench graves (see below). Thus we cannot talk in terms of the individuation of Jewish society as a whole. Importantly, McCane draws attention to Cohen, who ‘points out that while the piety of pre-exilic Israel centred on the group, the piety of second temple Judaism centred on both the group and the individual’ (Cohen 1989, 22 cited by McCane 2003, 46). However, criticizing Fine (2000), McCane (2003, 44) does not accept that economic prosperity was the main contributory factor for the rise of the ossuary on the basis that some were crudely made; he argues that economic prosperity may increase the standard of funerary furniture but it cannot account for a change in burial practice. Nevertheless, economic prosperity is an important factor in the dissemination of the burial rite, as Fine underlines with reference to the stone-carving industry (Fine 2000, 73). He gives two indisputable reasons. Firstly, the initial use of ossuaries was coincident with the timing of Herod the Great’s huge building ventures in the city and Temple at Jerusalem; that is, reconstruction of the temple began c. 23–18 bce67 and this is a date that compares well with Rahmani’s dating of 20–15 bce for the introduction of ossuaries (Rahmani 1994). This was later confirmed by ‘the discovery of an undisturbed tomb dating to the reign of Herod the Great into which ossuaries were introduced during the last phase of use’ (Vitto 2000, 98, cited by Magness 2005, 129). Secondly, and ‘just as important’, according to Fine (2000, 73), was ‘the rise of a well trained community of stone masons’. Approximately seventy-five stone ossuaries have been found across twenty-five sites in Galilee.68 Magness (2012a, 120) has stated that ‘No 67

68

Josephus dates the beginning of the construction of the Temple to the fifteenth year of Herod the Great’s reign in Jewish War (i.401), that is 23/22 bce, and to the eighteenth year in Jewish Antiquities (xviii.380), that is 19/18 bce (Galor 2013, 232). Aviam 2013b, 109. Excavations at Khirbet Qana, possibly the largest necropolis in Galilee, revealed about a dozen tombs with many loculi – but no ossuaries were found (McCollough 2015, 143). Possibly the tombs had been looted.

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rock-cut tombs or ossuaries can be firmly dated before 70 ce.’ Indeed, Aviam and Syon (2002, 183) have pointed out that they were unable to date any Galilean tombs containing ossuaries ‘solely to the first century [ce]’. However, Weiss has argued for continuity of burial from the end of the first century bce, through the first century ce, to the second century ce; that is, Galileans buried their dead in the second century ce in the same manner as they had done in the first century ce (Weiss 2016, 188). Thus tombs and ossuaries from the first century would be indistinguishable from those of the second century. In early first-century Judea, ossuaries inform on the death rites of the more wealthy, those of higher status, indeed the elite of Jewish society, who had been heavily influenced by Roman opulence.69 Therefore one would expect to find some ossuaries pre-70 ce in Galilee given the Graeco-Roman tastes of the upper classes (architecture and décor). In contrast to the Galilean ossuaries, those in the Jerusalem tombs could be dated to pre-70 ce because of the destruction of Jerusalem. Notwithstanding, there is a distinct difference in the quality of the stone ossuaries recovered from Jerusalem and Galilee; those from Galilee are undecorated and more crudely made, exhibiting none of the craftsmanship of the ‘Jerusalem school’. In other words, Galilee appears not to have been influenced by Jerusalem. In addition, a number of clay ossuaries have been found in Galilee as opposed to only one from Jerusalem; thus this has been deemed a Galilean invention. Aviam and Syon (2002, 184) have related these findings to the ‘dramatic decline of the economic situation at the time’. In the aftermath of the destruction of the Temple (70 ce) and the failure of the second rebellion (Bar Kokhba revolt, 132– 135 ce), increased numbers of Jews sought refuge and settled in Galilee; however, it would appear there was a lack of well-trained craftsmen of ‘the Jerusalem school’ among them. The failed Jewish revolts most likely had led to the death and imprisonment of these skilled artisans.70 Aviam and Syon (2002, 183) have therefore proposed that secondary burial with ossuaries initially reached Galilee at the end of the first century, thus supporting Rahmani’s claim of a similar date (Rahmani 1994, 21–23). Nevertheless, as stated above, it seems likely that ossuaries were used pre-70 ce by the Galilean upper classes. In later research, interestingly

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‘[T]he association of rock-cut tombs and ossuaries with the elite is borne out by inscriptions, some of which bear the names of these affluent families and some of which denote the deceased’s professions’ (Magness 2012a, 120). Rahmani 2000, 204.

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Aviam (2013b, 109)  has claimed that the later Galilean ossuaries are more akin to the second-century ce ossuaries originating from the Judean Shephelah and the Hebron Mountains. Mark Chancey has underlined the overtly Jewish nature of Galilean society in the first century ce in both his books Myth of a Gentile Galilee and Greco-Roman Culture and the Galilee of Jesus (2002, 2005). Hellenization was a result of Roman influence through the army, which did not occupy Galilee until 120 ce, and Greek was not the spoken language until after that time. Certainly, no Graeco-Roman temple or pagan shrine has ever been discovered in first-century Galilee. In contrast, McCane (2007, 236) pointed out that slightly more than 40% of the inscriptions on Jewish ossuaries from the early Roman period in Jerusalem are in Greek. It is notable that some Judean tombs do not necessarily reflect the status or wealth of the family. For example, the tomb of the Caiaphas family is somewhat unimposing, and the burial chamber crudely constructed.71 Yet the ossuary of Caiaphas has been carefully crafted and is aesthetically pleasing, even although this object would have been seen by few people (Figure 4.3).72 But at the same time plain and uninscribed ossuaries have been discovered in other tombs clearly belonging to wealthy families, leading Magness (2005, 130)  to observe that ‘there is no correlation between the relative wealth and status of the deceased and the ornamentation of the ossuary’. The Judean rock-cut tombs would have mainly belonged to the upper and middle classes, so this begs the question as to where the poor would have been buried. Shimon Gibson has suggested that agricultural land around Jerusalem was in great demand for ‘intensive and extensive’ agriculture with regard to the growing of vines and olives, and trench burial would not have been an option; therefore rock-cut tombs were used by the lower classes (Gibson 2009, 133–134, 160). However, Magness (pers. comm.; 2005, 121) has pointed out that there is ‘plenty of evidence of different forms of burial disposal (literary and archaeological), whether casual disposal in empty pits and cisterns, trench graves dug into the ground, or cist graves cut into rocky outcrops’. Indeed, she (2012a, 119–120) underlined the 71 72

McCane 2003, 34; Magness 2005, 130. Whether this ossuary is that of Caiaphas himself is debatable on the grounds of the crudely carved inscription and the spelling of the name; indeed, in his writings, Josephus does not refer to the high priest Caiaphas as ‘Joseph, son of Caiaphas’ as in the ossuary, but as ‘Joseph Caiaphas’ and ‘Joseph called Caiaphas’ (C. A. Evans 2003, 108).

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Figure  4.3 Caiaphas ossuary with inscription. Courtesy of Zev Radovan/ BibleLandPictures.com

fact that although 900 tombs have been discovered at Jerusalem (late first century bce to the first century ce), this number of tombs could not have catered for the population.73 Moreover, rock-cut tombs would have been widespread throughout both Judea and Galilee if used by the lower classes and this simply is not the case. Fifty shaft graves have been excavated at Beit Safafa, a village in south-western Jerusalem, and these are contemporary with the rock-cut tombs already described.74 The tombs comprise ‘a five to seven-foot-deep vertical shaft with a horizontal burial niche dug out at the bottom’; each shaft mostly contained one

73

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‘Eyal Regev has calculated that no more than five to seven people per generation were buried in most of these tombs. If we take the maximum possible estimate, 3 generations of 7 people each buried in all of these tombs, the number of burials over the course of a century would total 18,900. During this period Jerusalem’s population at any given time was at least 60,000, and perhaps much larger’ (Magness 2012a, 119). Crossan and Reed 2001, 244–245.

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skeleton.75 This find verifies that there were alternative burial rites for those less well off. In conclusion of this section, the major factor accounting for the advent and rise of the ossuary in the first century is that of contemporary Roman burial practice. In addition, Herod’s building programme provided impetus to the stone-carving industry, which in turn acted as a springboard by which Greek and Roman customs and beliefs, especially the modified use of cineraria, came to the fore. Change in any society tends to go top-down (Herodian royal family and Judean elites) rather than bottom-up, and such change would have taken time to reach other parts of the country (Galilean elite), ultimately to manifest on a smaller and more modest scale. If there was a lack of first-century Galilean ossuaries, then it seems that we might be observing a socio-economic difference between Galilee and Judea; however, this idea is rejected given the increasing socio-economic growth (chapter 6, p.  146) and the recent findings of two large stone quarries/workshops in Lower Galilee, which indicate ossuaries could easily have been produced.76 Moreover, it is a distinct possibility that ossuaries were used by the Galilean elite pre-70 ce, having been influenced by the material culture of wealthy Judeans who had adopted this Roman burial rite. However, the inability to differentiate between first-century and secondcentury tombs precludes certainty in this matter. Notwithstanding, in any interpretation of the Galilean evidence we need to be aware that Jerusalem and its environs has been more extensively excavated than Galilee,77 and that future excavations might overturn this interpretation. Pig versus Wild Boar Bones The presence or absence of pig bones on Palestinian archaeological sites78 has, up until recently, been used as an indicator of Jewish ethnicity; sites with faunal assemblages without pig bones were interpreted as Jewish especially when other ethnic indicators (miqwa’ot and stone vessels) 75

76 77

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http://members.bibarch.org/image.asp?PubID=BSBA&Volume=25&Issue=02&Image ID=05000&SourcePage=publication.asp&UserID=0&. Similar shaft graves have been found at Qumran. Shaft grave = trench grave. Reina and ‘Einot Amitai (Dennis Mizzi, pers. comm.). No tombs have been excavated at Gamla and Yodefat, and almost none at Capernaum (Charlesworth and Aviam 2014, 123–124). See Table 1, p. 171.

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occurred.79 Notwithstanding, pig bones have been found in ostensibly Jewish contexts at Sepphoris, although this has been disclaimed. Reed considers that the pig bones (four) found in the kitchen of the house of Unit ii are statistically void, but one might ask in what way they are void (Reed 2000, 127). Part of the problem lies in the way that the relative number of bone fragments (NISP) per taxon has been compared and contrasted. If the relative percentage of pig bones is based on the number of pig bones divided by the total number of identifiable fragments, as opposed to the number of pig bones divided by the total number of identifiable fragments for the main domesticates (cattle, sheep/goat, and pig), then clearly there will be a higher fraction of pig employing the latter method. And this is the main method used with most faunal reports.80 Using this method, Table 1 shows that pig bones at Sepphoris ranged in amount from 5 to 10% in a comparison with the main domesticates, and that the Roman sample itself constituted a good 5%. Grantham (1996, 150) has suggested that a strong Christian presence would account for the usage of pork in the Roman-Byzantine and Byzantine samples but this still does not explain the presence of pig in the early Roman sample. A pig radius shaft from Horvat ‘Eleq (Mount Carmel) sported a healed fracture; this indicates that the animal had been cared for and was likely domesticated.81 Certainly, the natural forest at Mount Carmel and adequate rainfall would have been conducive to the raising of pigs. If the porcine bones from Horvat ‘Eleq and indeed other sites had resulted from hunting then we would expect a much higher number of wild animals including wild boar. This is certainly the case for the porcine bones recovered from the late Hellenistic/early Roman levels of Bethsaida on the Lake of Galilee; here considerable amounts of wild game (gazelle and deer) have been identified as important dietary items, so it is likely the pig remains are those of wild boar. The ‘Eleq pig had been butchered since the radius showed deep chop marks, but this does not mean the owners ate the meat as there is some indication in the Mishna that Jews could raise pigs as long as they did not consume the flesh.82 And the same would be true of the camel of which butchered bones have also been unearthed. However, the Horvat ‘Eleq estate does not appear to have been owned by Jews since there is a lack of ethnic indicators (ritual pools and stone

79 80 81 82

Reed 2000, 49. King 1984; 1999. Horwitz 2000, 517. Horwitz 2000, 517, 522.

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vessels), and the animal bone assemblage in general signifies Roman husbandry and butchery (see chapter 6, p. 178). Liora Horwitz (2000, 518) has stressed that it is the relative number of pig bones that is important, not their presence or absence. And she points out that they are present in high numbers at sites ‘inhabited by a mixture of ethnic groups’ such as Ashkelon and Caesarea Maritima. This is also true of Tel Anafa in the Golan, which is not far from the village of Gamla, and which in Table 1 shows the highest percentages of pig bones relative to cattle and sheep/goat when compared with any other site. Nevertheless, we cannot avoid the fact that pig bones have been discovered on Palestinian sites from the Iron Age to the Byzantine. Moreover, animals such as the hyrax and catfish83 which are anathema to Jews have also been found in Jewish contexts from Galilee and Carmel in the Roman period. This has led Lev-Tov (2003, 431) to state, ‘In reality it may have been that Jews differed in regard to their observance of the dietary laws with some being more Romanized (or Hellenized) than others.’ Household Judaism Peter Richardson stated that the ‘Jewish religion was expressed most regularly in the house’ (Richardson 2004c, 330), and in the early first century ce Andrea Berlin proposed there was a domestic change for which she coined the term ‘household Judaism’ (Berlin 2002; 2005; 2006; 2014). In a comparison of pagan, Galilean Jewish, and mixed sites with reference to architecture and more especially table and cooking ware, and lamps, the Jewish sites yielded locally produced pottery, stone vessels, and knife-pared lamps; this is in contrast to the presence of ETSA (eastern terra sigillata pottery) and mould-made lamps at the same sites in the first century bce, which were also found on the pagan and mixed sites in both centuries. However, it should be noted that pottery counts were only available for Gamla and Tel Anafa, and Jensen (2006, 237–238) has pointed out that the amounts of ETSA both before and after the turn of the millennium are very low at Gamla as compared with the huge corpus of ETSA from Tel Anafa, thus caution should be exercised in any interpretation until further statistics are available.

83

Another Jewish taboo concerns the prohibition of the consumption of catfish (Leviticus 11:10). Curiously, many catfish bones have been excavated from the Iron Age levels of Jerusalem despite the fact that they were considered unclean (Borowski 1998; see also Lernau and Lernau 1992).

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While some scholars have interpreted the cessation of ETSA and mould-made lamps as allied to the Halacha (Adan-Bayewitz and Aviam 1997, 165), others see it more as a subversive anti-Roman tactic (Crossan and Reed 2001; Berlin 2002). However, with respect to the former Berlin defines ‘Household Judaism’ as something which has ‘developed outside halakhic or priestly concerns. The remains reflect shared beliefs as well as a broad desire for material possessions that would encode and reflect religious unity and identity’ (Berlin 2005, 417). In other words the Jews were openly displaying their religious affiliation not only to their God but importantly to each other. That this was in any way anti-Roman is undermined by the facts that both Yodefat and Gamla had adopted Hellenistic wall paintings, and that all sites, both pagan and Jewish, had embraced pans, signifying a new style of cooking in Roman mode (Berlin 2002; 2006). Further, Herod Antipas had not precipitated any conflict ‘since he supported Jewish culture through producing aniconic coins and did not construct readily identifiable Greco-Roman cultic institutions’ (Jensen 2006, 239). Summary The ethnic indicators discussed in this chapter do not constitute a static, monolithic Jewish society in Palestine in the late Second Temple period, but, rather, one that was open to change from without through Graeco-Roman influence, and from within through Jewish innovation. Considerable change came through the Herodian royal family and the native Jewish aristocracy, the top end of society, with respect to the use of the domestic stepped pools (ritual baths) or miqwa’ot, some having been incorporated into Roman-type bathhouse complexes, and ossuaries which appear to have been modelled on Roman cineraria or stone boxes. On current evidence, it appears there was a difference in usage between Galilee and Judea in that fewer miqwa’ot and scant ossuaries have been found in Galilee. Regarding Roman ideas of burial, the trickle-down effect, from the Judean elite to the Galilean elite, would have taken time and resulted in smaller and more modest adjustments; this could partially account for any ossuary disparity between Galilee and Judea pre70 ce. But, more importantly, the difficulties in distinguishing between first-century and second-century tombs in Galilee have hampered firm conclusions being made. The miqwa’ot data demonstrate a difference in the interpretation of the Halacha (religious rules), and this can be viewed as reflecting a diverse Judaism firmly underpinned by a common Judaism

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identified through a number of archaeological artefacts, such as the Herodian or knife-pared oil lamp common in both Galilee and Judea. The widespread presence of pig bones on Jewish sites, albeit in low numbers, also demonstrates a diverse Judaism. Stone vessels were discovered on all types of site across Judea and Galilee and, with the exception of large jars clearly produced for the wealthy, were used by all classes. Some vessels fulfilled needs associated with the purity laws, while others were more utilitarian and even copied Roman fine pottery and silver ware. This stone vessel revolution has been interpreted as establishing Jewish identity and self-sufficiency. This identity is further underlined by ETSA and mould-made lamps being replaced by locally produced pottery and knife-pared lamps in the early first century. Finally, the timing of Herod’s massive building programme provided the momentum for these changes to occur with impressive speed. Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 2 What is the significance of the ethnic indicator distribution for understanding Jesus’ eschatological mission? What evidence is there that the pools of Siloam and Bethesda were used for healing as described in the Gospel of John? Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness. (Matthew 23:27–28)

The ethnic indicator distribution is critical for understanding the Palestinian contexts within which Jesus moved, and the late Second Temple Judaism practised by Galileans and Judeans. This religious connection between Galilee and Judea is important, because it enables a better appreciation of why a Galilean should choose to confront the Temple authorities at Jerusalem in the final days of his life. Notably, one third of Mark’s Gospel comprises the last week of Jesus’ life leading up to the incident in the Temple, while that of John places the demonstration in the Temple early on in the second chapter of the Gospel (see my chapter 2), thus emphasizing its importance. Essentially the archaeological data of my chapter 4 underpin and clarify the textual evidence of my chapter 2. What is immediately apparent, with reference to the distribution of miqwa’ot and stone vessels, and the scarcity of pig bones, is the

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closeness of the religious ties between early first-century Galilee and Judea. Stoneware is ubiquitous, signifying a common Judaism being practised in both areas, further underlined by the recovery of imageless Hasmonean and Herodian coins, non-figurative oil lamps, and locally made rather than imported pottery. Although there is a disparity in the number of miqwa’ot identified between Galilee and Judea, this does not undermine this strong connection in that ritual pool immersion could be undertaken in a variety of natural ways (see below). At first sight, it seems that the Judean burial ritual utilizing ossuaries was not extensively practised in Galilee at this time.84 However, rich Judeans (including the high priesthood), having been influenced by Roman material culture, had swiftly adopted this rite, and one would surmise that rich Galileans would have too, given that their houses reflected Graeco-Roman styles of architecture and wall paintings. That the Galileans strongly adhered to the purity laws has been shown by recent excavations of two stone quarries in Galilee, where there is indisputable evidence of the large-scale production of stone vessels destined for local markets:  Reina, and ‘Einot Amitai, which is 1 km from Reina (Yonatan Adler and Dennis Mizzi, pers. comm.). The location of these two enormous quarries and production sites, side by side, points to the fundamental nature of Judaism practised in Galilee. With regard to ritual purity, Cecilia Wassen (2016, 31)  has underlined that in the Gospels ‘there is no evidence that Jesus transgressed, challenged, or disregarded the purity laws’; such interpretations were founded on the erroneous supposition that ‘Jews in general went to great lengths to avoid impurity’. To further make her point she cites a common cause of impurity  – that of sexual activity. I  would certainly agree with this. Indeed, impurity was not deemed a sin except when entering the Temple without having performed the prescribed water rituals. The sinners that Jesus was accused of associating with at his table fellowship were, as already described in the introduction to chapter 3, most likely practising a diverse form of Judaism. There is good evidence from the archaeological record that hand washing was widely practised; for example, a large number of twohandled stone mugs have been excavated from all types of archaeological 84

Aviam 2013b, 110 ‘… ossilegium (bones in ossuaries) custom only spread into Galilee after the destruction of the Temple. Not only do we have no first-century ce dated tombs with ossuaries in Galilee, they are clearly lacking from the Golan and are extremely rare in Perea – a distribution that shows, in my opinion, that ossilegium in the Second temple period was a strictly Judean custom.’

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site. This practice is recorded in the Gospel of Mark (7:3–4):  ‘The Pharisees and all the Jews do not eat unless they give their hands a ceremonial washing, holding to the tradition of the elders … And they observe many other traditions, such as the washing of cups, pitchers and kettles.’ Other items used for purification included large stone jars capable of holding gallons of water, the latter identified in the Gospel of John at Cana in Galilee where Jesus attended the Jewish wedding of a wealthy family and miraculously turned the water into wine (John 2:1– 9). There is archaeological evidence that these larger vessels were likely luxury items within the grasp of the more wealthy, but the ubiquity of stone vessels in general and their utilitarian nature indicate that they were used by all sectors of society. Notably such items were not identified in adjacent pagan areas. In contrast to the stone vessel distribution, the relative distribution of ritual miqwa’ot does vary between the two areas, with more examples having been excavated in Judea. However, this does not undermine the importance of ritual purity to Galileans in that there were other ways of carrying out ritual ablutions, for example bathing in the Sea of Galilee and in freshwater springs, which were abundant. So with regard to ritual bathing the purity laws could easily be upheld. This demonstrates the diverse nature of Judaism. Moreover, there is no evidence that socioeconomic factors accounted for the construction, use, and ownership of such pools; in other words the poor were not at odds with the rich. Interestingly Cecilia Wassen (2016, 31) reminds us that at his own baptism Jesus himself entered a ‘purification bath’, confirming that he did take part in such ‘purification rituals’. During his ministry Jesus remained a loyal Jew in that he respected Jewish cult activity.85 He paid the Temple tax (Matthew 17:24–26) and attended the annual festivals held at the Temple (Mark 14:12; John 5:1). Moreover, the opening petitions of his prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, are similar to the Kaddish, therefore underlining his Jewish allegiance. Certainly in the aftermath of his execution his followers continued to frequent the Temple and participate in its services (Acts 2:46; 3:1). And this focus on the Temple by Galileans in general is further underlined by the recent excavation of a stone table in a synagogue at Migdal – the table clearly shows a carving of the sacred Temple Menorah. So Jesus exemplifies the embodiment of a common Judaism overlaid by a personal interpretation with reference to, for example, some of his healing activities 85

Sanders 1985, 245–269; Vermes 2003, 42–43; Wardle 2010, 171.

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and of course his proclamation of the coming kingdom of God (that is, a blend of the common and diverse Judaism as described in chapter 3, p. 55 and above). Jesus’ Judaism reflects the religious atmosphere prevalent at the turn of the first millennium: the hope of better times with enemies overturned and God’s rule established. His eschatological ministry first and foremost focused on the worship of God through loving one’s neighbour and, importantly, predicted the imminence of the arrival of the kingdom of God when wrongs would be righted through judgement of the wicked, especially the oppressors of the poor. Indeed, judgement forms a strong theme in Jesus’ teachings. That this intervention would signify a renewal of the covenant between God and Israel is highlighted by Jesus’ choice of twelve disciples symbolizing the twelve patriarchs of Israel; moreover, the disciples were told that they would sit on thrones in this new kingdom judging the twelve tribes of Israel (Luke 22:30/Matthew 19:28). What is striking about Jesus’ prophecy is the emphasis on its impending arrival. Firstly, a sense of urgency pervades the Gospel texts regarding Jesus’ proclamation; indeed, the short length of his mission in Galilee before embarking for the Temple highlights this. Secondly, his anger and frustration at the lack of belief of the villagers indicates that he realized that time was running out if they were to be included in the new kingdom (Luke 10:13–15/Matthew 11:21–24). And thirdly, he tells a potential follower who wanted to bury his father:  ‘Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God’ (Luke 9:60/Matthew 8:21–22). Based on what we know from the archaeology as described earlier in this chapter, this passage refers to the late Second Temple ritual of secondary burial where the bones are gathered together and placed elsewhere in the tomb. In this instance there is no evidence that an ossuary was to be used, as claimed by some scholars;86 indeed, the expression ‘let the dead bury their own dead’ argues more for a communal heap, pit, or charnel chamber whereby the father’s remains were allowed to mingle with that of the ancestors. Importantly, this secondary burial informs us that there was a family rock-cut tomb involved. Ossuaries are a statement of wealth and position reflecting the lavish lifestyles of the Jewish upper classes, who had adopted not only this Roman custom of burial but other aspects of Roman culture touching 86

C. A. Evans 2003, 13; McCane 2003, 76–77.

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on dining, architecture, and interior decoration.87 Comprising the high priesthood and the Judean aristocracy, the Sadducees had adopted this new burial rite modelled on Roman cinerary urns in the late first century bce. Extremely rich and forming an elite class, they did not believe in the resurrection of the dead.88 This contrasts strongly with the Pharisees, who believed in the resurrection, and also the Essenes at Qumran, who lived in hope of the establishment of an eschatological community which satisfied their own strict purification laws.89 Indeed, Jesus certainly believed in a continued existence in light of the eschaton, but only for those who heeded his word and turned back to God. It is interesting to note that the Essenes at Qumran were buried in trench graves, which were carefully delineated, each grave being identifiable by a heap of stones with the head and feet areas marked with flat stones.90 Magness (2011, 160) proposed that the Essenes buried their dead like the poor because they believed in an ascetic way of life in contrast to the ‘Hellenized/Romanized lifestyle (and deathstyle) of the Jerusalem elite’, largely comprising the priesthood living in sheer luxury. The Gospels also provide evidence of underground burials in Galilee; for example, where Jesus likens the Pharisees to graves, ‘Woe to you, because you are like unmarked graves, which men walk over without knowing it’ (Luke 11:44/Matthew 23:27). Indeed, in rural Judea as well as Galilee ‘people were customarily buried in burial fields’ (Aviam 2013b, 110). Notwithstanding, rock-cut tombs were also used (see opening quote). The disparity between the rich and the poor was much greater in Judea than Galilee; indeed, it can be inferred from land tenure arrangements that those lower down the social scale in Judea experienced considerable economic hardship at the hands of the rich. We have established a close connection, a common Judaism, between Galilee and Judea through the ethnic indicators (stone vessels and miqwa’ot) and associated material remains, and this distribution also explains why Jesus’ Galilean ministry culminated in Judea, at the Temple in Jerusalem, as discussed in chapter 2. If Jesus believed the eschaton was actually happening, rather than challenge the local religious authorities it is not too surprising he headed straight for the Temple, the focal point

87

88 89

90

The ossuaries do not necessarily reflect this since some have been plainly made and others sport crude inscriptions. Acts 23:6–8; Josephus, Jewish War ii.162–165. Pharisees: Acts 23:6–8; Josephus, Jewish War ii.163; Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews xviii.12. Essenes:  Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews xviii.172; Josephus, Jewish War ii.154. Magness 2011, 162.

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of the Jewish religion, to await the event. There is ample evidence that on arrival he did indeed prophesy the destruction of the Temple and drew attention to the venality and greed of the priests and their oppression of the poor. Like Jeremiah and Isaiah before him he was pronouncing a terrible judgement on the corrupt priesthood. While the Synoptic Gospels describe his preaching as centring on Galilee, it is important to note that Jesus had close associations with Judea, for example through the village of Bethany on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives (Mark 14:3; John 11:1–3). And it is highly significant that in the last days of his life it was from Bethany that he travelled to Jerusalem, having been enthusiastically hailed as ‘king’ along the way (Mark 11:1–10; John 12:1–15). After saying this, he spat on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes. ‘Go,’ he told him, ‘wash in the Pool of Siloam.’ So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. (John 9:6–7) Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie – the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’ ‘Sir,’ the invalid replied, ‘I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.’ Then Jesus said to him, ‘Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.’ (John 5:1–8)

Most of the miqwa’ot in Jerusalem were discovered in the basements of private houses, and consequently usage would have been strictly limited to the owners. While large miqwa’ot have been found in close proximity to the Temple Mount, Shimon Gibson (2005, 270) queried whether these pools would have been able to meet the purification needs of the vast numbers of pilgrims visiting the city for the three annual festivals. He proposed that two gigantic pools, the Bethesda Pool (Sheep’s Pool) and the Siloam Pool, north and south of the Temple Mount respectively, were of integral importance during the Herodian period in enabling the ritual purification of pilgrims before they entered the Temple precinct (see Figure 6.3, p. 159). Thereby, he challenged the original interpretation that the pools held the main water reserves of the city. His argument rests on the following facts gleaned from the archaeology of the sites which have been excavated by himself (Bethesda Pool, Gibson 2005; 2009; 2011a), and Ronny Reich and Eli Shukron (Siloam Pool, Reich 2011, 225–244).

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The Siloam Pool was filled by the nearby Siloam spring, which had supplied the city since the First Temple Period and earlier. Indeed, this was the main difference between it and the Bethesda Pool, which depended on being filled by trapped rainwater. Trapezoidal in shape, it measured approximately 60 m by 50 m. The three sides that have been excavated, like the Bethesda Pool, have a series of steps and landings leading down to the pool (although with the Bethesda Pool these features occur only on one side). Three sets of five steps and landings were excavated. The pool was built in two stages and an analysis of the plaster reveals that the earliest use dates to the middle of the first century bce. One of the problems in viewing this installation as a miqweh is that it is overlooked by the Upper City residents, allowing no privacy for pilgrims. Therefore Yoel Elitzur (2008) proposed that the Siloam Pool was a swimming pool, but Gibson (2005, 194 and note 124) argued against this on the grounds that the Jews would not have allowed such an item inside the city. Indeed, the amphitheatre was located outside the city.91 However, Reich and Shukron (2011, 246) observed there were holes in the stone of one of the landings that may have held poles to which a canopy of some sort was attached; this would have preserved the privacy of Jews undertaking ritual immersion and possibly allowed segregation of the sexes. Conversely, in a looser interpretation of the rabbinic rules perhaps those immersing wore light garments. The Bethesda Pool measured 47 m by 52 m and was filled with rainwater from an adjacent upper reservoir measuring 53 m by 40 m (collectively named the pools or twin pools); a vertical and horizontal channel connected the two installations and sluice gates controlled the amount of water passing from the upper to the lower basins. The reservoir and pool were surrounded by porticoes on all four sides, and there was an additional portico built over the wall separating the two basins. Many steps led down into the pool along its western side stretching for 53 m; in between each series of steps (in groups of one to six) was a landing. The archaeological finding of the pools’ porticoes confirms that John’s account is an accurate description of the facility: four colonnades on each of the four sides plus a fifth separating the reservoir and the pool proper. In other words John was aware that there were two components to the Bethesda Pool. Gibson has pointed out that the sick man’s description of the ‘stirring of the water’ as recorded in John 5:7 most likely relates to rainwater being drained from the reservoir into the pool. The pool clearly 91

Levine 1998, 59.

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dates to the first century given ‘the plastered barrier wall separating the two parts of the pool was … partly built of alternating courses of welldressed header-and-stretcher ashlars with smoothed exteriors, typical of other first-century building ventures in Jerusalem’ (Gibson 2005, 75). The Johannine text relates that a large number of disabled people used to ‘lie’ at the pool, and the landings would have provided useful places for recumbency (John 5:3). However, this particular point raises questions concerning the accuracy of John’s depiction of Jesus actually healing a paralysed man at the site, since as Jodi Magness (2016a, 328) has recently pointed out the scene of the ‘Sheep’s Pool [Bethesda]  – surrounded by invalids lying on mats – sounds more like the incubator of an Asclepeion than pools used for ritual purification as prescribed by biblical law’. She states that this suggests a date more in keeping with post-70 ce (when an Asclepeion was set up) rather than pre-70 ce. And that John had an agenda: ‘From the perspective of memory studies, John’s endeavour … was to create memories, and often palpable ones, of Jesus’ activities in Jerusalem’ (p. 325). In other words John has positioned Jesus in a much later context in order to underline his healing ability. There are no accounts in the Mishna that miqwa’ot were ever used for healing; the pools were built to fulfil the purity obligations according to Jewish law. However, it is possible some of these sites attracted healers in late Second Temple times. And healings did occasionally occur in conjunction with individuals purifying themselves; for example, Elisha healed Naaman (an army commander of the King of Aram) of a skin disease by telling him to wash seven times in the River Jordan (2 Kings 5:9–10).92 Moreover, as we have seen above, in John’s Gospel Jesus tells a blind man to wash in the Pool of Siloam and he is healed.93 The Bethesda healing differs from the Siloam one in that Jesus is present at the Bethesda Pool and healed the man without immersion. Certainly the pools were still in use from 135 ce as part of the now pagan city, Aelia Capitolina, built by the emperor Hadrian, but Gibson is notably wary in claiming the existence of an Asclepeion due to the poorly preserved archaeological remains; however, he stated there is considerable evidence from a dilapidated stone altar and ex-votos ‘that pagan healing rites were undoubtedly undertaken in the immediate vicinity of the pools … perhaps associated with Serapis or Aesclepius’ (Gibson 2011a, 29–30). 92

93

Elisha sent a messenger to say to him, ‘Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed’ (2 Kings 5:10). For an explanation of this healing see chapter 5, p. 142.

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Moreover, James H. Charlesworth (2006a, 34) has asserted ‘there is abundant evidence in the cisterns within Bethesda and from the images of snakes found on objects found in situ in Bethesda that this site was a place set aside for healing before and during the Herodian period’ [my emphasis]. This casts a different light on Antoine Duprez’s work (1970, 95–97, 108–176) who daringly proposed back in the 1970s that in the early first century an Asclepeion might have existed at the Bethesda Pool; he argued that being outside the city it would not have offended the sensibilities of orthodox Jews, and would have serviced pagan94 Roman soldiers from the nearby Antonia fortress. This idea was not accepted by scholars given the strict adherence of Judeans to the purity laws at this time. However, Yeung (2002, 77–78) cautioned that the idea should not be rejected out of hand since, while not yet a true Asclepeion, this site could have been a place of healing attracting a variety of religious beliefs embracing Jews influenced by Solomon’s healing power, and Hellenized Jews and Gentiles motivated by Serapis/Asclepius worship. At the time of Jesus, soldiers from the nearby camp could well have promoted the cult of Asclepius.95 Indeed, it was soldiers who popularized worship of Asclepius even to the remotest parts of the Roman Empire.96 For an understanding of Jesus’ healing ministry much also depends on the dating of John’s Gospel. The traditional view gives a dating in the late first century between 90 to 100 ce,97 but an earlier date has been proposed – ‘as early as the 50s and no later than 70 ce’; the latter is based on the fact that a ‘developed theology does not argue for a late origin. The theology of Romans (written c 57) is every bit as developed as that of John’ (Barker 2011, 1756). Interestingly the author of John’s Gospel uses the present tense in describing the Bethesda Pool, which not only suggests a certain familiarity with the site but also a pre-70 date (John 5:2).98 James H. Charlesworth also argues for a pre-70 ce dating for the 94

95

96 97 98

One cohort (500 soldiers) was stationed at the Antonia fortress under the command of a tribune answerable to the governor of the province of Judea; because Jews were exempt from military service for religious reasons these troops comprised pagan provincials (Bond 1998, 13). It is interesting to note that ‘in pagan circles, the god Asclepius was credited with bringing sight to the blind, voices to the mute and the ability to restore paralysed limbs’ (Bond 2012, 105). These are similar afflictions to those Jesus healed. Edelstein and Edelstein 1945, 253. Cassidy 2015, 3. Thomas L. Stegel presents the evidence for a pre-70 ce dating for John’s Gospel, part of which depends on the historical present tense usage in John 5:2 (www.chafer.edu/files/ v14no2_date_of_john_s_gospel.pdf).

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first edition of John’s Gospel based on textual, geographical, and archaeological evidence (Charlesworth 2010, 3–46; 2018, 540). The other Gospels do not mention the Bethesda and Siloam pools, but then, unlike John, their focus is on Galilee rather than Judea.99 In summing up this section:  while the Siloam Pool was clearly a miqweh servicing a large number of Jews, the Bethesda Pool seems to have served an additional function. There are two indisputable facts: 1) the long history of healing at the site of Bethesda, and 2) Jesus’ reputation as a renowned and highly successful healer, a solid theme running through the Gospels (see chapter 3). The pool as described by John and excavated by Shimon Gibson is not typical of the miqwa’ot that were found in Jerusalem and its vicinity, Qumran, Hebron and Benjamin, the Shephelah, and Galilee (Sepphoris).100 Moreover, there is the strong possibility that the first edition of John’s Gospel containing the Bethesda scene pre-dates 70 ce. Thus it would appear that this pool in the early first century as well as being a miqweh functioned as a focus for a healing cult, and catered for a wide variety of people with different needs. Indeed, as Patricia Bruce (2005, 47) has stated, ‘the pool at Bethesda may have met a need that was not met by the Temple’. Jesus’ association with Bethesda is significant and unlikely to be coincidental.

99

100

Further support for the historicity of John’s Gospel is provided by: Anderson 2006; Von Wahlde 2006; Gibson 2011b. Gibson 2009, 77.

5 Health Hazards in First-Century Palestine

[L]ife in first-century Galilee – though not necessarily dissimilar to other parts of the Mediterranean – was substantially different from the modern world and cannot be characterized as stable. Chronic and seasonal disease, especially malaria, cut down significant segments of the population and left even the healthy quite often ill. (Jonathan Reed 2010, 34) [In the modern world] [i]nfectious diseases remain the world’s leading killer, accounting for one in three of all deaths. Each year 17 million people, mostly young children, die from infectious diseases. Acute respiratory infections kill almost 4  million people; diarrhoeal diseases kill 3  million; HIV/AIDS kills 2.5 million, tuberculosis kills 2 million, and malaria kills 1.5 million. The discrepancy between rich and very poor countries is huge: infections cause 1–2% of all deaths in the former, yet over 50% in the latter. (Tony McMichael 2001, 95)

Infectious and Parasitic Diseases Jonathan Reed (2010) has recently challenged the notion that economic prosperity fuelled the growth of settlements in early Roman Galilee, instead proposing that a high fertility rate and a low density of people, unimpeded by infectious diseases more characteristic of urban environments, allowed the Galilean population to mushroom. But he also claimed that ultimately it would be the cities that curbed growth, concomitant with the building and habitation of settlements in low-lying areas near standing water conducive to malaria.1 Infectious diseases were 1

Reed 2014, 242–250.

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probably2 the prime cause of death in antiquity, as indeed today, and it is therefore important to determine what diseases existed in Galilee and Judea and how they affected the people, the more so since Jesus was clearly in demand as a healer. Documentary and palaeopathological research undertaken with regard to Roman Italy has demonstrated conclusively that malaria was a ‘killer’ disease at certain times of the year and in particular environments.3 Indeed, it may well have been a major factor in the fall of the Roman Empire. The recovery of human remains from rock-cut tombs in Israel has been affected by tomb robberies, pressurized deadlines for excavation, and, since 1994, ultra-orthodox rabbinic concerns of not disturbing the dead.4 Although the condition of these remains raises some issues, this section will address what kinds of palaeopathological and demographic information have been gleaned from the bones. Tuberculosis and leprosy have both been identified morphologically and molecularly in early first-century bones recovered from the rock-cut tombs located outside Jerusalem. However, the suggestion that malaria in its more virulent form was widespread in first-century Palestine still needs verification. Documentary evidence indicates its presence but does not confirm that it was directly fatal; in this chapter I  suggest that additional factors, including environmental and behavioural ones, could in combination have precipitated death. The ratio of subadult to adult burials will also be examined with special attention paid to the mortality of infants (nought to five years old), that segment of the population especially vulnerable to acute infections. Leprosy and Tuberculosis The Tomb of the Shroud is a first-century rock-cut tomb in the cemetery of Akeldama located in the lower Hinnom Valley at the base of Mount Zion, Jerusalem; it was discovered by Shimon Gibson in conjunction with James Tabor in 2000. Due to the importance of the finds an emergency excavation was swiftly undertaken by Gibson, Tabor, and Boaz Zissu. The following account is based on Gibson (2009, 139–147), and also

2

3 4

It is important to note that over 90% of skeletons show no evidence as to how each individual died; infectious disease is a plausible explanation but many people may have died from starvation as a result of famine or from injuries to their soft tissues (Piers Mitchell, pers. comm.). Shaw 1996; Soren 2003; Scheidel 2013. Balter 2000, 34–35; Gibson 2009, 140–141.

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Matheson et  al. (2009), who undertook the molecular research. Inside the tomb an adult individual was discovered sealed into a loculus5 with plaster, a feature rarely observed with Jerusalem burials; the body had been wrapped in a shroud and still retained hair. The shroud consists of a number of woollen and linen wrappings, demonstrating a warp that was both Z-spun and S-spun; the textiles of Z-spun warp had not been manufactured locally and would have been imported probably from Syria or Anatolia, or possibly even from Greece or Italy. While a morphological examination of the bones from this primary burial showed that the individual was an adult male, a molecular analysis indicated the presence of the DNA of both Mycobacterium leprae and Mycobacterium tuberculosis. Indeed, one bone (metatarsal?) showed an ‘advanced lesion’ typical of tuberculosis, thus underlining the chronic nature and severity of the disease. Two infants were also discovered sealed into a wall niche with plaster, although these were secondary burials; M. tuberculosis was again identified in the remains of both children. Matheson et al. point out that the identification of M. tuberculosis in the tooth pulp extracted from all three individuals indicates that this pathogen was in the bloodstream and therefore rife in the body as miliary tuberculosis, an acute form, which would have led to almost certain death. That this was a family tomb is indicated by an analysis of the mitochondrial DNA, which showed that the adult was related to at least five other individuals (eleven in total) in the tomb. The hair of the man is well-cut and clean, showing no evidence of head lice.6 This level of grooming, the quality of textiles comprising the shroud, and the location and size of the tomb indicate that he emanated from the upper and wealthier section of society. It is important to note that ‘the presence of both M. tuberculosis and M. leprae DNA is associated with immuno-suppressed individuals, which is a feature of the multi-bacillary or lepromatous form of leprosy’ (Matheson et al. 2009, 12). While leprosy is a ‘chronic, debilitating and disfiguring infection’, the lepromatous form of the disease is the most severe (Carmichael 1993, 834–839).

5 6

A niche carved at right angles to the tomb wall. The clean hair of the adult is striking given the widespread occurrence of the human head louse, Pediculus humanus (Zias 1991, 148). Hair combs and hair from the Dead Sea dating to the first and second centuries ce were examined from Qumran, Masada, Murabbaᶜat, and the Negev: 50% of the artefacts examined were infested with lice and lice eggs (Mumcuoglu and Zias 1988). A  body louse in association with textiles was found in a storeroom at Masada, the context being that of the Jewish Revolt (Mumcuoglu et al. 2003).

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‘Whether a person develops lepromatous leprosy (affecting the hands, feet, face), tuberculoid leprosy (affecting one nerve and the muscles/skin it supplies), or any of the spectrum in between (borderline lepromatous, borderline, borderline tuberculoid, primary polyneuritic) depends on the immune response of the infected person; a good immune response using white blood cells leads to a tuberculoid form of the disease and sometimes a cure, while an immune response that fights infection with antibodies does not work well and this leads to the lepromatous form of the disease’ (Piers Mitchell, pers. comm.).7 Gibson (2009, 146) has suggested that since the Tomb of the Shroud lies in close proximity to the Tomb of Ananus, the geographical location of which is described by Josephus (Jewish War v.506), then it may have belonged to a ‘priestly or aristocratic family’. Clearly, this was a man who had been cared for and it calls into question the widespread assumptions that lepers were shunned and of lower-class origin. Indeed it raises another question as to just when this leprosy, or rather Hansen’s Disease (true leprosy), first appeared in Palestine. Joseph Zias (1989, 30) has pointed out that ‘the fact that compilers of the Old Testament never made direct reference to forbidden sexual practices as a vehicle for contracting the disease, while religious authorities of the Roman–Byzantine period consistently did, suggests that today’s leprosy appeared in the Holy Land sometime after the First Temple period and was already well established during the first centuries of the common era’. The term zara’ath or tsara’ath mentioned in the book of Leviticus in the Old Testament is generally considered to refer to a wide range of skin diseases. It has been claimed that the Greek word lepra in the New Testament does not mean modern leprosy since the Greeks called this affliction elephantiasis graecorum;8 however, there is still disagreement concerning the precision with which such terms were used by ancient writers.9 Morphologically, the Tomb of the Shroud contains the first bones to exhibit leprosy in Palestine. The earliest evidence in the Near East is to be found in four human skulls from the Dakhleh Oasis, Egypt dating to the Ptolemaic period. Because the skulls are not typical of that area, being 7

8 9

Clinical features described by Diana N. J. Lockwood in the Oxford Textbook of Medicine, edited by David A. Warrell, Timothy M. Cox, and John D. Firth, http://oxfordmedicine .com/view/10.1093/med/9780199204854.001.1/med-9780199204854-chapter-070627 (updated 28 November 2013). Aufderheide and Rodríguez-Martín 1998, 148. Zias 2002, 261.

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European as opposed to Negroid, it was suggested that they belonged to individuals from the higher echelons of society who had been segregated from distant more urban areas.10 The dating of the skulls relates closely to the timing of Alexander the Great’s campaign in India (327–326 bce), and thus it has been suggested that it was Alexander’s soldiers who, on their return home, brought leprosy to the Mediterranean.11 But equally trade routes between the Near East and Far East could well have spread the disease much earlier.12 Two young adult males interred in the Roman cemetery (Kellis 2) at the Dakhleh Oasis demonstrate bone pathologies indicative of multibacillary (lepromatous) leprosy.13 On a molecular analysis, using PCR, each adult proved, as with the man in the Tomb of the Shroud, to be co-infected with both M. leprae and M. tuberculosis.14 It has long been thought that leprosy died out in Europe because cross-immunity protected tuberculosis-infected individuals from leprosy. However, Donoghue et al. (2005), using material from the Roman period to the thirteenth century, suggest that ‘the immunological changes found in multi-bacillary leprosy, in association with the socio-economic impact on those suffering from the disease, led to increased mortality from tuberculosis and therefore to the historical decline in leprosy’. In other words there was a synergetic relationship between leprosy and tuberculosis, and the weakening of the immune system by the leprosy bacillus allowed the tubercle bacillus to terminate life swiftly and thus prevent the spread of leprosy. Notably the Kellis 2 burials had not been isolated from the main cemetery but were included within it, and Molto (2002, 179) has suggested this indicates a ‘level of tolerance towards leprosy at Kellis’. This is true of the Tomb of the Shroud adult burial, although it was clearly of much higher status. Interestingly, Grmek (1989, 202)  relates that individuals with leprosy in nineteenth-century Greece were ‘grouped into small colonies that were not strictly isolated from the rest of the population’. And in the early twentieth century there were about 250 people with leprosy in Palestine, most of whom were segregated in Jerusalem, Ramleh, Nablus, or Damascus, where they occupied houses provided by the government.15 Notably the first effective treatment for leprosy only became available 10 11 12 13 14 15

Dzierzykray-Rogalski 1980, 72. Anderson 1969, 45; Roberts and Manchester 2010, 201. Zias 2002, 267. Molto 2002. Donoghue et al. 2005, 390. Masterman 1918, 66.

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in the 1940s. Due to the generally slow appearance of symptoms from three to five years, the disease is slightly contagious and is transmitted through the skin or respiratory passages.16 On the other hand tuberculosis is highly contagious. Since prehistoric times tuberculosis (TB) has been endemic in most of Europe, Asia, and North Africa. It was originally thought that humans contracted the tubercle bacillus through cattle domestication; however, it is now clear that M. tuberculosis did not evolve from M. bovis at the time of domestication.17 Recent DNA research has indicated that M.  bovis evolved from M.  tuberculosis, suggesting that humans may have given TB to cattle.18 Moreover, bovine tuberculosis, while a disease of cattle, can afflict other wild mammals, with humans being secondarily infected. A mother and child were recently recovered from the site of Atlit Yam19 in Israel, one of the first Neolithic villages (7,250–6,160 bce) with evidence of agriculture and animal domestication, and a molecular analysis confirmed that the individuals had contracted TB through the agent of M. tuberculosis.20 Besides the findings in the Tomb of the Shroud (Jerusalem) a tubercular lesion was positively identified on the proximal part of an adult femur from a Second Temple period tomb in the cemetery of Arnona, Jerusalem (Zias 2006b, 118–119). Zias has argued that the low frequency of tubercular lesions observed on ancient bones, taken in conjunction with data concerning the low frequency of tuberculosis in present-day Jews, suggests that early Roman Jews might have had a ‘high resistance’ to the disease. But molecular research has pinpointed that the tuberculosis identified in Roman Jerusalem was the acute rather than chronic form, which would allow little time for the skeleton to be affected. It has been concluded that the occurrence of tubercular bone lesions in the ‘preantibiotic era’ was low, approximately 5–7%.21 Indeed, Roberts and Cox (2003, 395), in an extensive palaeopathological survey of Britain spanning the Palaeolithic to modern periods, identified few pathological bones in the late and postmedieval periods, which sharply contrasted with the strong documentary evidence for the disease in those periods. They have suggested that researchers may be using different methods of 16 17 18 19 20 21

Carmichael 1993, 834. Roberts and Manchester 2010, 184 citing Brosch et al. 2002. Namouchi et al. 2012, 723, fig. 1 (Piers Mitchell, pers. comm.). Now submerged off the coast of Israel, 10 km south of Haifa Bay. Hershkovitz et al. 2008. Steinbock 1976, 175; Aufderheide and Rodríguez-Martín 1998, 133.

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diagnosis:  ‘Most workers diagnose the condition on the basis of Pott’s disease in the spine, and this will be a very small percentage of those affected by tuberculosis … many people could have had the disease but their skeletons were not affected when they died.’ Out of all the infectious diseases today TB is the most ubiquitous and the number one killer.22 It can affect any part of the body but is commonly linked with the lungs.23 The disease is usually chronic, which eventually leads to bone abnormalities, but can be acute especially in the case of infants and young children. Johnston (1993) has stressed that the aetiology of tuberculosis is strongly associated with crowding, quality of nutrition, and working conditions; age, gender, and immunogenetic factors also play a part. Since the disease is spread through the air by simply ‘talking, coughing, sneezing, spitting and sighing’, crowded housing particularly in urban environments would certainly have increased its incidence. And those most at risk would have been infants, adolescents, and the aged, all individuals having low resistance. The disease engendered considerable horror and fear in early twentieth-century Palestine; Dr E. W. G. Masterman, a medical doctor, wrote that ‘there is a growing dread of infection from this disease and many poor sufferers are shockingly neglected by their relatives who are afraid to associate with them’ (1918, 65). Grmek (1989, 202) claimed that both leprosy and tuberculosis were a ‘by-product of indigence’. Clearly the poor were at great risk in Palestine; however, it is evident that those with more affluent life styles were not immune to such infections. Malaria and Anaemia Malaria24 is caused by a protozoan parasite (Plasmodium sp.), which is transmitted to its human host by the bite of a female mosquito (Anopheles sp.).25 There are four species of human malaria, three of which are endemic to Mediterranean countries, Plasmodium vivax, Plasmodium malariae, and Plasmodium falciparum, the latter being the

22 23 24

25

Roberts and Buikstra 2007, 213. Johnston 1993, 1059–1060. Unless otherwise stated, the information on malaria in the first two paragraphs is based on the research of Sallares et al. (Sallares 2002; 2004). F. L.  Dunn 1993, 854. There are approximately 3,500 species of mosquitoes grouped into 41 genera. Human malaria is transmitted only by females of the genus Anopheles. Of the approximately 430 Anopheles species, only 30–40 transmit malaria (i.e. are ‘vectors’) in nature (www.cdc.gov/malaria/about/biology/mosquitoes/).

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most deadly. A recurring fever marks malaria out from all other diseases. Hence ancient Greek and Roman authors describe malaria by the periodicity of the fever:  tertian (P.  falciparum and P.  vivax), which recurs every second day, and quartan (P. malariae), which recurs every third day. Sallares et al. (2004, 314) summarize its extensive early history: ‘[T]here are plenty of references to the intermittent fevers characteristic of malaria in ancient literature such as the works of the Hippocratic Corpus in Greece in the fourth and fifth centuries bc, in ancient Indian texts (difficult to date), and in Chinese literature of the first millennium bc. These accounts leave no doubt whatsoever that benign tertian fever (caused by P. vivax) and quartan fever (caused by P. malariae) were endemic in the Old World from Greece to as far as India and China by 500 bc. Evidently these types of human malaria arrived in Greece sometime between the end of the last Ice Age and 500 bc.’ During the reign of the emperor Tiberius (42 bce to 37 ce), Celsus (De Medicina 3.3) describes malaria to the extent of differentiating the tertian fevers; he used the term semitertian to specify the more prolonged attack of the deadly P.  falciparum, and tertian fever for the less harmful P. vivax. Thus it is clear that falciparum malaria was widely known in early first-century Rome and her empire. Both the Greek physicians Asclepiades (129–40 bce) and Galen (129–216/217 ce) also indicate in their writings that falciparum malaria was common in ancient Rome. There is no doubt that this strain of malaria had a great impact on the mortality rates of classical Greece and ancient Rome, but as Sallares et  al. (2004) point out, ‘only within strictly circumscribed geographical areas’. This is because only certain mosquito species carry the parasite, and mosquitoes in themselves are not noted for flying long distances. Documentary evidence shows that malaria was certainly present in Israel during the first century bce. Josephus in Jewish War (i.105–106) and Jewish Antiquities (xiii.398) describes Alexander Janneus (103– 76 bce, a Hasmonean king of Judea) dying on a military campaign of complications associated with what appears to be quartan26 malaria of three-year duration. However, Rosen (2000, 673)  emphasizes that the texts indicate that it was probably physical exertion that killed Alexander, not necessarily the infection; furthermore, in all the detailed descriptions of Roman manoeuvres in Judea prior to and during 70 ce Josephus makes no reference to problems with malaria. Nevertheless, Josephus describes 26

Probably caused by P. malariae (Neuburger 1922, after Rosen 2000).

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the Great Plain (the Jordan Valley) between Tiberias and the Dead Sea as exceedingly hot with an unwholesome air, the only water being in the River Jordan (Jewish War iv.457–458). And Tacitus also reports the Dead Sea area as having an unhealthy air (Histories v.7). But there is no hint of major malarial problems and certainly no indication that falciparum was present. Reed (2010, 356) has not specified which malaria he supposes was around in first-century Galilee, but his comparison of parts of Galilee, that is sites near the lake and low-lying valleys, to the malaria-infested Egyptian Fayum27 is suggestive of falciparum. He further argues that the high death rate from malaria of Jewish settlers in Galilee in the early twentieth century demonstrates the dangers of living in such areas, for example ‘the Huleh Valley down past the Gennesar Plain to Tiberias and over along the Beit Netofah Valley, which until modern irrigation flooded often’. This does not necessarily indicate that these places were death traps in the early first century. Indeed, this point was raised by Rosen (2000) with reference to the Roman settlement of Horvat ‘Eleq, an area that was highly malarious in the early 1900s, and also Roman Caesarea only 8 km away, the inhabitants of which used water from the spring at Horvat. Why would the Romans have built in such a place if it had been so badly infected with harmful mosquitoes? Since Caesarea thrived during the Byzantine period, certainly a time of immense growth in Israel, the virulent form of malaria could not have posed a serious threat to health.28 Nevertheless, malaria was viewed with fear and trepidation by some at that time, as evidenced by amulets which were worn as protection.29 A bronze amulet was discovered at Sepphoris in Galilee in a late fourth/early-fifth century context with a charm written in Palestinian Jewish Aramaic.30 The first few lines translate as follows: An amulet against fever Protracted that burns And does not cease.

It is interesting to note that one of the additional symptoms of malaria besides a high fever is dry burning skin.31

27 28 29 30 31

Scheidel 2001. Rosen 2000, 675. Naveh and Shaked 1985, 44–55. McCollough and Glazier-McDonald 1997, 146. Bullard 2004, 212.

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Walter Scheidel (2013, 48) has underlined that the killing propensity of falciparum malaria was greatly enhanced by its synergistic interaction with ‘other seasonal infections such as gastro-intestinal disorders and respiratory diseases’. This would have been true of other strains of malaria, and, significantly, Galen did indeed recognize that tuberculosis was a major complication of quartan fever.32 So while the Palestinian type of malaria may not have been as lethal as that at Rome, individuals could be weakened and rendered much more susceptible to dangerous infections such as tuberculosis, just like those initially infected with leprosy were vulnerable to the deadly effects of tuberculosis (see above). Two genetic anaemias characterized by abnormal haemoglobin, sickle-cell anaemia and thalassaemia, give some resistance to malaria.33 Today thalassaemia is commonly found in the Mediterranean, Middle East, and Far East. It is claimed that the earliest evidence for the disease comes from the Near Eastern Neolithic village of Atlit Yam (7250–6160 bce; see above).34 The proximal humerus of a young male skeleton (16– 17 years of age) was found to exhibit a premature and irregular fusion of the growth plates, which is characteristic of thalassaemia; however, for a more definite identification there would need to be several long-bone epiphyses affected.35 Sickle-cell anaemia occurs throughout sub-Saharan Africa and in small pockets in the Mediterranean region, the Middle East, and the Indian subcontinent.36 Scanning-electron microscopy of a male skeleton excavated on the island of Failaka in the Persian Gulf showed erythrocytes with the characteristic sickle shape, thus demonstrating sickle-cell anaemia existed by the Roman period.37 With regard to the human skull, porosities in the outer table of the cranial vault (porotic hyperostosis) and orbital roof (cribra orbitalia) are commonly seen in ancient human remains. The active form of this pathology is always found in subadults. Evidence of cribra orbitalia has been found in Galilee, Judea, and the Dead Sea (see section below on patterns of death). Angel (1966) originally proposed that this cranial pitting was related to the hereditary haemolytic anaemias, that is thalassaemia and sickle-cell, and that these anaemias frequently occurred in populations where malaria was endemic. However, there has been a long-standing 32 33 34 35 36 37

After Sallares 2002, 136. Steinbock 1976; Sallares 2002, 33; Roberts and Manchester 2010, 232–234. Hershkovitz et al. 1991. Exarchou et al. 1984, cited by Molto 2000, 107. Williams and Weatherall 2012. Sallares 2004.

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belief that such lesions are characteristic of iron-deficiency anaemia,38 although it is important to note that the skull changes are essentially the same for all the anaemias.39 Hence, the precise aetiologies of porotic hyperostosis and cribra orbitalia have not been completely resolved. Recently Walker et  al. (2009, 119)  rejected the idea that this pitting was caused by iron-deficiency anaemia and suggested persuasively that ‘porotic hyperostosis and many cribra orbitalia lesions are a result of the megaloblastic anemia acquired by nursing infants through the synergistic effects of depleted maternal vitamin B12 reserves and unsanitary living conditions that are conducive to additional nutrient losses from gastrointestinal infections around the time of weaning’. It is striking that gastrointestinal disease was the prime cause of infant and child mortality in early historical populations; indeed, Celsus recorded in ancient Rome that children up to the age of ten years were the main casualties of diarrhoea and dysentery.40 Significantly Masterman (1918, 71) recounted on his travels in Palestine at the turn of the nineteenth century that infant mortality was very high, infants commonly dying from diarrhoea, dysentery, and particularly malaria. Moreover, he states that malaria was the main disease affecting all classes, and observed that its incidence depended primarily on the water supply and the area where the disease lingered the most. He states: In Jerusalem, the larvae of the two first-mentioned varieties [Anopheles maculipennis; Pyretophorus palestinensis] breed in countless numbers in the semi-closed rainwater cisterns attached to almost all the houses, and it is therefore little wonder that malarial fevers are there continuously propagated. (Masterman 1918, 62)

This is interesting given that water was stored in cisterns during the Roman period, as for example at Jerusalem and Sepphoris. Miqwa’ot could have been similarly affected, as well as the huge reservoirs/pools sited around the perimeter of Jerusalem itself.41 However, we do not have concrete evidence for this. According to Masterman, water stored in cisterns was perfectly drinkable providing the containers were regularly cleaned; further, such rainwater collected from roofs was probably safer than that of a public supply, where water-borne diseases could spread swiftly throughout the city. But the cisterns of the poor often leaked and 38 39 40 41

Ortner 2003. Roberts and Manchester 2010, 233. Sallares 2002, 124; Celsus, De Medicina 2.8.30. Miqwa’ot = Jewish ritual pools. For reservoirs see Magness 2012b, 168–169.

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were at risk of being infected with sewage from cess pits. Presumably this may also have been a problem in the Second Temple period. Several toilets following Roman lines have been found in Iron Age contexts in Jerusalem, whereby latrines largely consisted of wooden or stone seats set over cess pits dug into earth.42 At Pompeii, Ostia, and Rome scarcely any houses were connected to street drains43 and this would appear to be the case at Jerusalem. So even if cess pits were used any material would have to be collected in conjunction with refuse regularly thrown into the streets. However, no toilets have been reliably identified in the early Roman levels, for example the opulent residences of the Jewish Quarter. This is perhaps not too surprising since the inhabitants of these mansions were clearly zealous in their practice of the Jewish purity rituals, as evidenced by the numerous miqwa’ot, not to mention the bathtubs and foot baths underlining their adherence to cleanliness. It would seem at odds to have a toilet in the vicinity, and more in line to have chamber pot(s) enabling a swift removal of excrement and urine elsewhere. Taking aside toilets, in first-century Italy ‘at Pompeii and elsewhere there is abundant evidence showing that many people relieved themselves in streets, doorways, tombs and even behind statutes’ (Scobie 1986, 417), and this possibly occurred in Second Temple Jewish settlements too. It is important to remember that in antiquity human faeces were deemed valuable and used for agricultural purposes.44 Notwithstanding, there is no evidence of this practice in strictly Jewish settlements and Ken Dark’s settlement survey between Nazareth and Sepphoris would tend to support this (Dark 2008). And it is highly likely the Jewish purity laws would have prohibited this. Streets were regularly cleaned during the Second Temple period.45 An enormous dump of rubbish (at least 200,000 cubic metres) was found outside the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem, just below the Temple Mount on the western slopes of the Kidron Valley; associated artefacts indicate that the garbage was gathered from approximately the middle of the first century bce to 70 ce. Rubbish had regularly been collected at a rate of 2,000 cubic metres per year, over a period of roughly 120 years. To remove this amount of material from the city could only have

42 43 44 45

Magness 2012b, 128. Scobie 1986, 409. Scobie 1986, 414. The following two paragraphs are based on the research of Reich and Shukron 2003.

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involved the use of an organized task force. A comparison of the numismatic and artefactual evidence gathered from garbage recovered from the main street inside the city by the Temple Mount and the dump outside indicates a striking difference. Garbage from the street contained coins only of the last five years of the Jewish Revolt, 66–70 ce, while no such coins were excavated from the city dump, thus giving a terminus ad quem of 66 ce when it ceased to be used. It is therefore evident that rubbish rapidly accumulated in Jerusalem and was not collected during the fiveyear period of rebellion when the Romans laid siege to the city. Such a build-up of material would have constituted a major health hazard, and with the dense concentration of hungry people infectious diseases would have spread rapidly. The Dog Tapeworm (Echinococcus granulosus) Two cysts of the human and animal parasite Echinococcus granulosus were recovered from the abdominal cavity of a man buried in a rock-cut tomb at Akeldama,46 and one was found in an ossuary from a tomb at the Mount Scopus Observatory.47 Echinococcus granulosus was also found in human faecal remains from eighth-century bce Jerusalem.48 The parasite is transmitted to humans from dogs that have consumed the flesh of infected animals, most often sheep; at this stage the parasite comprises a ‘saclike container of larvae, the hydatid cyst’ (Patterson 1993, 703). Normally the adult form of the tapeworm is found in dogs or other canids. However, the larval stage can lead to severe disease in humans. The Akeldama man exhibited a partially collapsed vertebral body and Zias (1996a, 118) suggests that this is possibly a ‘clinical expression of infestation by the tapeworm Echinococcus granulosus’.’49 A large part of the economy of Jerusalem at the time concerned sheep/goat husbandry, thus it is not coincidental that these parasites have been found. Summarizing this section, the remains of a Jew from the upper echelons of late Second Temple Jewish society was discovered sealed into a burial niche in a rock-cut tomb; this high-class adult male had been co-infected with leprosy and tuberculosis, thus indicating the prevalence of these 46 47 48 49

Zias 1996a, 117. Arieli 1998, 40. Cahill et al. 1991. ‘Skeletal involvement in echinococcosis of the hydatid type is approximately 2%, and nearly half the skeletal lesions occur in the vertebral column. The segments of the spine most often affected are the middorsal and sacral regions’ (Zias 1996a, 118, citing Ortner and Putschar 1985, 229).

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diseases in first-century Palestine. Two infants from the same tomb had died of tuberculosis. Documentary and archaeological evidence clearly show that malaria was present in Roman and Byzantine Palestine, but the type of malaria has yet to be identified. In nineteenth-century Jerusalem, mosquitoes were a serious problem in that they carried malaria and infested domestic water cisterns, and the same may well have been true in Roman times. The urban environment in the Graeco-Roman world was a known health hazard, particularly in relation to the disposal of human and animal waste which harboured pathogenic organisms. Evidence of echinococcosis was also found and was likely transmitted from dogs to humans. Patterns of Death in Palestinian Rock-Cut Tombs Life expectancy at birth for the Roman upper classes and indeed emperors was from twenty to thirty years.50 And in the Graeco-Roman world as a whole the average life expectancy at birth ranged from twenty to thirty years, although earlier or later deaths may sometimes have resulted from high-risk (densely populated, low-altitude, watery, malarious) or low-risk (sparsely populated, high-altitude) environments.51 In Rome, Scheidel (2007, 39) has underlined that ‘endemic infectious disease acted as the principal environmental determinant of local age structure’. Infants were especially vulnerable, particularly those who had just been weaned and were subject to dirty receptacles and contaminated food,52 not to mention excrement from dogs and swarms of flies. However, unlike the Romans who practised infanticide, the Jews refused to adopt this procedure for religious reasons, and they were also disinclined to practise contraception and abortion.53 Since 1967 over a thousand tombs have been discovered on the ridge encircling Jerusalem.54 In the Herodian period stone-carved ossuaries were used as receptacles to house the bones gathered from secondary burial (see section on ossuaries in chapter 4). The degree of preservation of human bones should be addressed before any judgements on issues of demography are made, and unfortunately there has been a lack of detail concerning this in many osteological 50 51 52 53 54

Scheidel 1999, 280. Scheidel 2007, 39. Scobie 1986, 422. Goodman 1996, 769. See Kloner and Zissu 2007.

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reports. Due to the damp environment, bone has not preserved well in some of the limestone ossuaries that have been excavated in the Jerusalem tombs.55 However, Zias describes ‘excellent preservation’ in the undisturbed ossuaries from a tomb at Arnona, Jerusalem (Zias 2006b, 117). At Jericho, Hachlili and Smith (1979, 67) state with reference to the bone assemblage from the Goliath Tomb:  ‘As is frequently the case in limestone ossuaries, the bones were extremely friable and difficult to study.’ Children’s bones do not preserve as well as adults since they have a lower bone mineral density, and thus are susceptible to attack by the acidic products of organic matter decomposition and acid environments, and also to being crushed.56 This leads to their under-representation on sites. Bones of the skull vault are frequently missed in excavation and consequently the detection of specific pathological conditions such as porotic hyperostosis and cribra orbitalia is seriously affected.57 Yet these Palestinian bones are important, having been discovered in contexts of great significance, and it is essential to attempt to glean as much information as possible from them. Figures 5.1 and 5.258 shows the minimum number (MN) of subadults (0–18  years) compared with infants (0–5  years), each expressed as a percentage of the total number of individuals recovered from a selection of tombs and burial caves in Judea and Galilee. Note the subadult counts include those of the infants. For comparative purposes data from Roman/Byzantine Tell Hesban in Jordan,59 classical sites in the

55 56 57 58

59

Arensburg and Rak 1975, 69; Smith 1977, 121; Zias 1992a. Guy 1997. Djurić et al. 2011, 259. In order to be able to compare and contrast sites, the grouping into infant (0–5 years), subadult (0–18 years), and adult reflects the way that the data has been presented in the osteological reports. The tombs used for analysis are as follows and the number of individuals (MN) are also included: Caiaphas (63 MN, Zias 1992a); Arnona (41 MN, Zias 2006b); Akeldama (115 MN, Zias 1996a); Mt Scopus Observatory (143 MN, Arieli 1998); Mt Scopus West Slope (88 MN, Zias 1992b); Giv’at ha-Mivtar (35MN, Haas 1970); French Hill late Hellenistic (33 MN, Smith and Zias 1980); French Hill Roman (64 MN, Arensburg and Rak 1975); Jericho (192 MN, Arensburg and Smith 1983); Goliath Tomb Jericho (31 MN, Hachlili and Smith 1979); Dead Sea Ein Gedi (164 MN, Arensburg and Belfer-Cohen 1994); Dead Sea Caves Hellenistic and Roman (99 MN, 28 MN, Goldstein, Arensburg, and Nathan 1981); Meiron, Upper Galilee (197 MN, Smith, Bornemann, and Zias 1981); Tell Hesban Jordan (99 MN, Grauer and Armelagos 1998); Bedouin C19 (216 MN, Goldstein, Arensburg, and Nathan 1976); Eastern Mediterranean (144 MN, Angel 1969). Grauer and Armelagos 1998.

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Figure  5.1 Minimum number (MN) of subadults (0–18 years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of individuals.

eastern Mediterranean dating to 650–350 bce,60 and nineteenth-century Bedouins61 have also been included. If one considers the subadult (0–18  years) section of society, the Jerusalem tombs (Caiaphas, Arnona, Akeldama, Mount Scopus, Giv’at ha-Mivtar), and those at Meiron in Galilee, Dead Sea Ein Gedi, Dead Sea Caves (Roman), Tell Hesban in Jordan and the eastern Mediterranean, all show that over 40% of their remains comprise subadults. Notwithstanding, it is the tomb of Caiaphas62 which stands apart from these and the other sites in demonstrating a much higher percentage of deaths – 68%. Here the subadult to adult ratio exceeds that of 50:50 prevalent in agricultural societies. Given that taphonomic factors would have affected the more fragile bones of infants and children, this percentage is significant as better preservation would have increased the figure. In contrast to the other tombs, 32% of this subadult group (22% of the total number of individuals) were between six and twelve years of age. Also in contrast to other Palestinian tombs this tomb has the highest percentage of infant deaths (41%, Figure 5.2). 60 61 62

Angel 1969. Goldstein et al. 1976. See chapter 4, p. 98n72 for the reliability of identification of Caiaphas’ tomb.

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Figure 5.2 Minimum number (MN) of infants (0–5 years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of individuals.

The patterning of the Jerusalem tombs (Caiaphas, Arnona, Akeldama, Mt Scopus West Slope, and Observatory), the Goliath Tomb at Jericho, and Meiron in Galilee is similar in that the subadult remains comprise a large proportion of infants (0–5 years of age), an age group extremely prone to infectious diseases. This is also true of the Tell Hesban tombs in Jordan and the eastern Mediterranean sites. In Egypt for the greater part of the nineteenth century approximately 50% of children died under five years of age,63 and this high infant mortality was something that had been observed by contemporary medical doctors in Palestine.64 So we can assume that a similar mortality would have been experienced by Second Temple Jews and other coeval societies. However, if the proportion of 0–1-year-old infants is separated out from the total number of infants, as shown in Figure 5.3, clear differences can be observed (note the 0–5year-old sample is a percentage of the total number of individuals, while the 0–1-year-old sample is a percentage of the 0–5-year-old minimum number of individuals). Five sites in particular demonstrate 50% or more of the infants are 0–1  years old:  Tell Hesban (78%); the eastern

63 64

Tucker 1985, 115. Masterman 1918, 71.

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Figure 5.3 Minimum number (MN) of infants (0–5 years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of individuals, compared with the minimum number (MN) of infants (0–1  years) expressed as a percentage of the total number of infants.

Mediterranean (72%); the Akeldama tombs (67%), the remains of which include eighteen perinatal births; the Goliath Tomb at Jericho (55%); and Meiron (50%). It is important to realize that a high percentage of 0–1year-old infants is normal in agricultural societies and demonstrates high fertility; indeed, ‘populations of the ancient world were characterized by a regime of high fertility and mortality’ (Scheidel 2007, 38). What is more, this is an age group that is greatly under-represented in many Palestinian tombs through poor preservation of the osteological material. With regard to Figure 5.2, it is striking that the French Hill (Roman) tomb contained one of the lowest percentages of infant remains, just 16%. Clearly the assemblage has been affected by poor environmental conditions and indeed Arensburg and Rak (1975, 69) described finding some of the bones crumbling into a white powder: ‘The ossuaries were locked by a stone cover, but were not sufficiently hermetic to prevent humidity or the penetration of water. Therefore, the condition of the bones is rarely good, and these bones were decayed and sometimes degenerated into a white dust which, when touched, lost any form.’ Leaving aside the Goliath Tomb, the amalgamation of Jericho tombs contained the

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lowest number of infant burials. Arensburg and Smith (1983) concluded that their estimation of age at death pointed to a longer life span and lower infant mortality at Jericho as opposed to Jerusalem, with a higher percentages of adults surviving beyond the age of fifty years. They related this difference to climate, Jericho’s winters being warm and mild while those at Jerusalem were cold and damp, where respiratory infections and rheumatic conditions are common even today. This is an attractive but flawed proposition since the infant remains are vastly under-represented and undoubtedly more are to be discovered; one burial cave incompletely excavated had revealed two layers of infant remains buried below a plastered floor.65 The Goliath Cave at Jericho has yielded results similar to the Jerusalem tombs, showing fatal infectious diseases strike the young regardless of climate. In the Goliath Tomb, two ossuaries were discovered containing only an infant (five to six months old) in one and a child (six years old) in the other. Infants were normally buried with adults, as demonstrated by two mothers who were interred with their infants; these women died at forty to forty-five years old,66 demonstrating an impressive fecundity.67 The tomb is very closely dated to three generations (sixty years), that is 10–70 ce, and its large size, delicate frescoes on the walls of the upper chamber, and high proportion of inscribed ossuaries indicate the high status of the owners.68 However, long bone measurements of eighteen infants from the Akeldama tombs ‘fell far below normative figures given for newborns in Ashqelon during the Roman Period’ (Zias 1996b; Smith and Kahila 1992), and this is indicative of non-viable premature births. Importantly this is also a measure and indication of poor maternal health. 65 66

67

68

Arensburg and Smith 1983, 133. The average age of the menopause is fifty years in modern western populations and there has been scant change in the age of onset in human populations over the past two millennia (Chamberlain 2006, 55). Hachlili and Smith 1979, 68. In 1989 at Beit Shemesh in Israel archaeologists discovered a Roman tomb dating to the late fourth century ce and containing a young girl who had died in childbirth; 7 grams of Cannabis sativa was found with the mother and unborn child (Zias 1996b, 16). Hashish is mentioned in the ancient Egyptian Ebers medical papyrus dating to the second millennium bce and is associated with mothers and children; it was probably used to stem haemorrhage in childbirth. Papaver somniferum, the opium poppy, was also known as it was depicted on coinage of King Herod the Great in conjunction with ears of wheat to celebrate the local cult of Demeter and Kore at Samaria. The earliest use of opium in Israel dates back a thousand years earlier to the Bronze Age, where ceramic juglets closely resembling poppy heads were found to contain the substance detected through a gas chromatography analysis (Zias 1996b, 17). Hachlili and Smith 1979, 70.

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The Meiron tomb in Galilee is an undisturbed cave dating from the first century bce to the fourth century ce. 48% of the individuals died before reaching eighteen years of age (see Figure 5.1).69 Within this age range the highest mortality occurred within the first five years of life, that is 74%. Cribra orbitalia was observed in most children’s skulls.70 The Dead Sea Cave excavations also yielded the remains of children showing cribra orbitalia from the Hellenistic (65%) and Roman periods (ten out of eleven children).71 There was little evidence of active lesions in the Tell Hesban sample, indicating the population overall was not unduly stressed; even so over 50% of the orbits showed ‘indications of slight pinpoint porosity and remodelling’, indicating juvenile stress (Grauer and Armelagos 1998, 118). Three children from Giv’at ha-Mivtar also showed evidence of cribra orbitalia. The Dead Sea Roman skeletal sample most likely represents Jewish refugees fleeing and sheltering from Roman sieges.72 Here there is a high proportion of subadult remains with a considerable proportion of infants. However, the overall number of remains is small, so care should be taken in their interpretation. A similar proportion of infant remains was found at Ein Gedi, but there was no mention of cribra orbitalia in the osteological reports. Also the low number of infant remains in the French Hill Roman period tombs argues for poor preservation in general. To conclude this section: one major finding has been the high proportion of infant burials (0–5 years) discovered in the tombs (Jerusalem: Caiaphas, Arnona, Akeldama, Mount Scopus; Jericho:  Goliath; Galilee:  Meiron), and indeed, where recorded in osteological reports, the high incidence of those aged 0–1  years (Jerusalem:  Akeldama; Jericho; Galilee:  Meiron). Certainly with better bone preservation the numbers would have greatly increased. This is a common finding in agricultural societies. Infants and neonates were accorded proper burial and in some cases were buried in their own ossuaries. The subadult to adult ratio of roughly 40:60 for many of the Jerusalem sites approximates the 50:50 of agricultural societies, and with more favourable environmental conditions this correlation could have been reached. In general the Jerusalem and Jericho (Goliath) tombs demonstrate a similar trend but the tomb of Caiaphas stands out with a particularly high

69 70 71 72

Smith et al. 1981, 110. Smith et al. 1981, 117. Goldstein et al. 1981, 15. Goldstein et al. 1981.

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incidence of subadult remains, a large proportion of which were infants and children aged between six and twelve years of age. This mortality pattern possibly represents an epidemic of some sort, perhaps related to environmental conditions, where the young were more susceptible than the old who had through exposure gained some immunity; Zias (1992a) has suggested that a drought in Jerusalem (41–48 ce) may well have accounted for these deaths.73 Certainly a great famine occurred during the reign of the emperor Claudius, as mentioned in Acts (11:28–30) and Josephus (Jewish Antiquities xx.51–53, 100; iii.32) (Jensen 2012b, 321). It is notable that during 25 to 24 bce Herod the Great organized a massive importation of grain from Egypt to counteract the effects of a drought in Judea which had precipitated famine and various epidemics.74 Poor maternal health is suggested by long-bone measurements of the newborn infants recovered from the Akeldama tombs, which are well below the norm for the period. Moreover, the high incidence of cribra orbitalia identified on the Meiron child skulls possibly points to low nutritional diets for the mothers. Clearly, higher social status and wealth did not grant any particular health advantages over those less well endowed. Interpersonal Violence in the Early First Century The remains of three individuals from the Mount Scopus tombs demonstrate evidence of trauma during the Herodian period. Firstly, the distal end of a humerus, belonging to a woman aged fifty to sixty years, had been cleanly sliced through by a sharp blade, and the direction of the blow through the elbow indicates that the woman had attempted to parry the attack; she did not survive, as evidenced by a lack of bone modelling and any signs of infection. Secondly, in an adjacent tomb a young man, twenty-five to thirty years, exhibits a well-healed depression fracture on the right frontal bone of the skull. And thirdly, in the same tomb a man, aged fifty years, appears to have been decapitated by two blows through the neck, which sliced one cervical vertebra and cut another.75 Zias questioned the likelihood of this being the result of a judicial execution on the basis that there were two attempts at severance.

73

74 75

This can only be a tentative suggestion since a statistical analysis would not be appropriate because of the poor preservation of the bones and the limited excavation of most of the tombs. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xv.299–300. Zias 1983, 233–234.

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Interestingly, in an extensive survey of several hundred Roman decapitations (outside Palestine and mainly in Britain) Craig A.  Evans concluded that ‘in about one half of the cases two or more strokes of the sword or axe were required before the head was separated from the body’ (C. A. Evans 2011b, 94). Evans has also pointed out that in the ‘bloody battle’ of Towton (fifteenth-century ce Britain), where similar weapons were used to those in first-century Palestine, an analysis of the skeletal remains of several hundred soldiers yielded only one possible decapitation; half the men had fatal head wounds and the other half fatal cuts via swords/spears to the body. His point is that if there are so few decapitations when men are armed to the hilt with swords and spears, then it is highly unlikely that such mutilations would arise through domestic disputes. Thus the aforementioned injuries involving head removal are most likely decapitations in the form of judicial executions. Another possible decapitation, this time of an elderly (possibly) female, was found at Giv’at ha-Mivtar (Abba cave), whereby the ferocity of the blow had ‘cut through the mandible shearing off most of the face’.76 The cut marks at Giv’at ha-Mivtar indicate that the instrument used was a sword rather than an axe. It is pertinent to note that in Acts (12:2) Herod had James the brother of John put to death by the sword, and earlier he had given the order for John the Baptist to be beheaded (Mark 6:27). I would therefore suggest that the sword rather than the axe was used for decapitation. In addition to the material already described from Mount Scopus,77 an ossuary from another tomb contained the bones of a young man, aged eighteen to twenty-five years, who had been brutally cut down by a series of blows which had severed an arm, penetrated deeply into the other, and had lacerated the skull, spine, and pelvis; since there were no observable wounds on the forearms, indicative of a defensive stance, Zias (1991, 153–154; 1992b, 101) suggested that such butchery had not been sustained in battle but rather had been incurred as punishment inflicted by the Romans. A punishment commonly used by the Romans to terrorize and thus control its citizens and client kingdoms was that of crucifixion. Josephus relates that when the Romans blockaded Jerusalem during the Jewish rebellion of 66–70 ce over 500 Jews a day were crucified outside the city (Jewish War v.450–453). Notwithstanding, despite the fact that a goodly 76 77

Smith 1977, 123–124. Zias 1983.

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number of tombs have been excavated in the vicinity of Jerusalem, only one has yielded evidence for crucifixion, that at Giv’at ha-Mivtar; here the victim, a young man aged between twenty-four and twenty-eight years old, had been interred in an ossuary with a three- to four-year-old child.78 The man’s heel bone had been transfixed with a large nail.79 Zias (2013, 1849–1852) proposed two reasons for the apparent lack of evidence for crucifixion in Palestine: 1) iron nails were considered to be ‘one of the most powerful healing amulets in antiquity’ and clearly were sought-after items; and 2)  the fragile nature of the calcaneum, largely consisting of spongy bone with a thin outer cortex, does not lend well to preservation. Another reason for the lack of crucifixion victims is that such a death was reserved for the lower members of society, and tomb contents reflect those from the upper end of the social scale. But human bones in general have not preserved well in the tombs surrounding Jerusalem, and this accounts for the low levels of violence recorded, together with the fact that many people may have died from soft tissue injuries. Summary Leprosy and tuberculosis have both been identified in archaeological human remains from a first-century tomb outside Jerusalem. It is of some significance that the co-infection was identified in a person, possibly a priest, from the higher echelons of society. Additionally, two infants from the same tomb tested positive for tuberculosis. Only through an analysis of the DNA were these findings established, and this underlines the importance of continuing such molecular research, paying rigorous attention to methodology. Thus some of the leprosy cases mentioned in the Gospels may well have been true leprosy, rather than a common skin complaint such as psoriasis. Malaria is described by Josephus with reference to a Hasmonean king in the first century bce, and it is suggested that the parasite involved was P. malariae. So far there is no evidence that malaria was a serious problem in the first century, and certainly there is no evidence for the deadly falciparum form. Parasites such as head lice (and eggs) and cysts from the hydatid tapeworm have been recovered from human hair and body cavities of Second Temple Jews.

78 79

Haas 1970, 42, 49–59. Zias 1991, 155.

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An analysis of the human bones from Palestinian tombs, in particular the ones relating to the urban sites of Jerusalem and Jericho, demonstrates a high level of subadult deaths, especially of infants. Endemic infectious disease coupled with a poor understanding of hygiene affected all classes. Those socially and economically advantaged were equally at risk with those less well off when faced with an aggressive and persistent pathogen. Notwithstanding, the tomb of Caiaphas stands apart from other burial sites in containing a high incidence of subadult remains, comprising not only infants but young children aged between six to twelve years old. This is unusual and is suggestive of some epidemic following an environmental misfortune, possibly a drought leading to crop failure and food shortages, which in turn would have had a deleterious effect on the populace. Although the bones demonstrate little in the way of interpersonal violence, those that do show a brutality likely reflective of Roman punishment: for example the crucifixion (male), two beheadings (one male, one possibly female), and the extensive butchery to the upper torso of a young man. Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 3 Why are Judean health concerns important in the Jesus story? How does Jesus’ healing ministry relate to his eschatological outlook? And what are the main factors accounting for Jesus’ apparent healing success? That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demonpossessed. The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. He also drove out many demons … (Mark 1:32–34)

As an apocalyptical and eschatological prophet, Jesus sought to heal those of impurities which would hinder their entering the kingdom of God, the presence of God. This proposal was recently made by Jodi Magness (2016b) with reference to diseases, deformities, disabilities, and demonic possession, and, in agreement, I believe it is fundamental to any discussion concerning Jesus’ healing ministry (see below). Most of the afflictions Jesus healed were chronic as opposed to acute diseases, and, given recent medical research concerning long-standing illness, a large proportion of those afflicted would have responded well and gained much benefit from the influence of an uplifting character, such as Jesus, a person who cared and could instil confidence and command respect. Thus I propose the impact Jesus made on his disciples, as described in

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chapter  3, is of immense importance in understanding why he became renowned as a great healer and exorcist, major themes running through all the Gospels. While the bioarchaeological remains in chapter 5 do not directly inform on Galilee, they provide vital information concerning Judean society which puts Jesus and his mission in context. The diseases and mortality patterns so far described in chapter 5 pertain to the urban environment of Jerusalem, not the rural areas of Galilee, and incorporate more acute infections.80 Nonetheless this information is important. One cannot view and understand Jesus in the isolation of first-century Galilee  – what is happening to the people in Judea is of major concern. While Jesus’ eschatological mission centred in Galilee (he was after all a Galilean), he also had contacts with Judea, in particular the village of Bethany outside Jerusalem, which is mentioned in all four Gospels (see below). Further, it is evident that he was highly aware of the corrupt behaviour of the priesthood with regard to the way they ran the Temple, and their contemptible treatment of the poor (see chapter  2). These points highlight his close association with people in and around Jerusalem. The Gospels scarcely record Jesus frequenting urban environments: his ministry focused on the Galilean village and its environs. This has often been commented on and a variety of reasons for this have been proposed; however, one contributory reason not already considered might well have been the need to avoid dangerous diseases prevalent in the cities, such as tuberculosis, normally chronic in manifestation, but (as identified at Jerusalem) deadly in combination with the leprosy bacillus. Those with more wealth clearly had no advantage over the less fortunate where any infection was concerned. This is evident from the information gleaned from the Judean tombs, those at Jerusalem and Jericho. Indeed the Akeldama tombs (Jerusalem) were among the most splendidly decorated tombs, yet osteological data indicate that the rich women interred suffered poor maternal health, likely related to nutritional deficiencies. And interestingly this was also suggested for the skeletal remains from Meiron in Upper Galilee. The lower strata of Judean society would have been even more exposed to such major infections through poor housing and sanitation, but additional stress factors were also affecting them, such as the accumulation of large debts and unemployment (see chapter  2, p.  46; chapter  6, pp. 184–185). As shown in chapter  4, a common Judaism 80

Here the highly infectious TB identified in its acute form is especially important in understanding the stressors on Judean society.

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linked Judea and Galilee and many Galileans would have regularly visited Jerusalem to attend the annual festivals. These pilgrims would have been exposed to infectious diseases easily spread by such throngs; thus Judean health concerns are of relevance to Galilee. Moreover, Jerusalem at these times can also be regarded as a melting pot for infections, minor or major, carried by the diaspora. Many of the physical diseases Jesus healed can be classed, as already stated, as chronic disorders rather than acute infections leading to death: for example, deafness (Mark 7:31), dumbness (Mark 7:31), blindness (Mark 8:22; 10:46; Matthew 9:27; 20:30; Luke 18:35; John 9:1), haemorrhaging (Mark 5:25; Matthew 9:20; Luke 8:43), fever (Mark 1:30; Matthew 8:14; Luke 4:38; John 4:46), paralysis (Mark 2:3; Matthew 9:2; Luke 5:18), withered hand (Mark 3:1; Matthew 12:9; Luke 6:6), oedema (Luke 14:1), and even leprosy (Luke 17:11).81 Significantly, Jodi Magness (2016b, 115) has pointed out that similar conditions are listed in the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa 1[2]:3–9) of the Essenes at Qumran, a sect living apart in the Judean desert near the Dead Sea and coeval with Jesus. No man with a physical handicap – crippled in both legs or hands, lame, blind, deaf, dumb or possessed of a visible blemish in his flesh – or a doddering old man unable to do his share in the congregation – may en[ter] to take a place in the congregation of the m[e]n of reputation. For the holy angels are [a part of] their congregation. (1QSa 2:5–9; translation by Michael Wise et al. 1996, 146)

This rule82 states that only those men who are free of such defects83 will ultimately be allowed to enter the Essene eschatological community; in other words, only those who were perfect and pure could enter the presence of God. In direct contrast to this, Jesus was healing such complaints so the people could enter his conception of the kingdom of God. This is an important feature of Jesus’ ministry highlighted by Magness  – the inclusive nature of Jesus’ movement: ‘whereas Jesus’ attitude towards the 81

82 83

The leprosy mentioned may have been a common skin complaint. The pagan god Asclepius ‘was credited with bringing sight to the blind, voices to the mute and the ability to restore paralysed limbs’ (Bond 2012, 105), and there is a significant link between this pagan practice of healing and Jesus’ at the Pool of Bethesda (see chapter 4, pp. 111–113). Based on the Mosaic law described in Leviticus 21:16–23 for the priests of Aaron. Bleeding is not mentioned in the Rule of the Congregation but Jesus is recorded as healing a haemorrhaging woman who had suffered from the complaint for many years (Mark 5:25–34). This is allied to the purity laws, as described in Leviticus 15:25: ‘When a woman has a discharge of blood for many days at a time other than her monthly period or has a discharge that continues beyond her period, she will be unclean as long as she has the discharge, just as in the days of her period.’

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diseased and disabled can be characterized as inclusive and proactive, the Qumran sect was exclusive and reactive’ (Magness (2016b, 115).84 So Jesus’ healings represent his consciousness of the holiness of God and his resolve to heal the sick, so that they could enter the divine presence in a pure and unblemished state. It is the healed people made whole itemized in the parable of the Great Banquet (Luke 14:16–24/Matthew 22:1–10), the eschatological banquet, who will enter the kingdom of God first, that is the ‘poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame’ in preference to the rich who blatantly ignored the invitation. Indeed, Dunn (2011b, 67– 68) has drawn attention to the fact that Luke (14:12–14, 21) repeatedly emphasizes this point in his chapter, thus indicating this was a strong memory of Jesus, recalling his aversion to such exclusion.85 Furthermore, in answer to John’s messengers asking the disciples who he was, Jesus answered, ‘Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: “The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor” ’ (Luke 7:22–23/Matthew 11:4–6). Siting the healing of such diseases alongside the poor in this verse clearly underlines the wider social context of Jesus’ healing ministry.86 Indeed, such healings/ miracles are promised in Isaiah and 4Q521, and, importantly, 4Q521 mentions the appearance of a Messiah who possibly would undertake this work (see chapter 1, p. 16). In a pre-antibiotic era some of these disorders would have been commonplace (see below with reference to blindness), causing not only physical suffering but economic hardship leading to poverty, and ultimately ostracism, since throughout biblical times there was a great stigma attached to illness, which was considered related to sin. Purification rites could not change and cure these conditions either for the men of Qumran or the ordinary Palestinian individual. This is why Jesus’ approach to healing was so important to the people (not just his promises concerning entry into the eschatological kingdom); there were few other avenues open to them for help since Jewish miracle workers were uncommon (see chapter  3, p.  60), and doctors were expensive (Mark 5:26). Clearly he was singularly successful as he drew large crowds, as evidenced by all the Gospels, but, more to the point, why was he successful? 84 85

86

See also Dunn 2011b, 67 n. 60. Indeed, Helen Bond (2012, 109) states: ‘Jesus shows a complete disregard for the age, gender and social status of those he heals (even perhaps healing the occasional Gentile, see Mark 5.1–20 and 7.24–30).’ Eve 2009, 57.

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The success of Jesus’ healing ministry pivoted on his ability to enable the individual to have faith in the healing process – to have faith that God would enact a cure. And it is this faith factor that clearly distances Jesus from Judaic and Hellenistic miracle workers.87 Significantly it was only in his healing miracles that Jesus called upon the faith of the person to be healed or that of his/her friends (see chapter 3, p. 60).88 Gerd Theissen (2010, 54–55), who believes in the reality of Jesus’ healings, has stated that ‘faith and confidence can support the healing processes on the side of both the patient and physician’ and he has suggested ‘the placebo effect’ was central to Jesus’ cures. I agree with this proposition since recent medical research concerning the ‘placebo effect’ is beginning to demonstrate that it is a real phenomenon, the effectiveness lying in the relationship between patient and therapist.89 However, for this ‘interpersonal healing’ to work it needs to operate within the parameters of illness rather than of disease.90 There is a key distinction between the terms; ‘disease adversely affects the organism’ while ‘illness adversely affects the person’ (Miller et  al. 2009, 523). This point was also recognized by Theissen through the application of cultural anthropology methodology; significantly, he pointed out that the healer was not necessarily curing a disease but making an illness easier to live with (Theissen 2010, 54–55). And, importantly, this enabled the sufferer to be returned to family, friends, and society in general.91 By asking whether the sick person had faith Jesus was getting the man or woman into the right frame of mind to effect a healing and to receive forgiveness for any perceived sin. He was activating the mind– body connection so boosting the patient’s immune system, which directly affects mental states. But to raise human expectations he needed to gain the trust and confidence of the sick person. And the way Jesus did

87 88

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90

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Dunn 1975, 168. Luke 7:1–10/Matthew 8:10 (centurion’s servant); Mark 2:1–5, Matthew 9:2–8, Luke 5:18–26 (paralytic); Mark 5:25–29, Matthew 9:20–22, Luke 8:42–44 (bleeding woman); Mark 10:46–52, Matthew 20:29–34, Luke 18:35–43 (blind Bartimaeus). Miller et  al. 2009; Finniss et  al. 2010. See Meggitt 2011, 33 for the effectiveness of the placebo response in a range of clinical trials across a broad spectrum of ailments. Importantly he notes that ‘placebos have been shown to affect not just a patient’s subjective perception of a symptom (such as pain) but also bodily processes that are objectively observable and measurable’. ‘Disease consists of biological dysfunction of the human organism – the primary focus of diagnosis and treatment within biomedicine. Illness is the experience of detriments to health, including the symptomatic manifestations of disease’ (Miller et al. 2009, 523). Eve 2009, 57.

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this was to act and speak with authority, an attribute peculiar to him in that it came from him alone and not from contemporary or indeed earlier Judaism (see chapter 3, p. 69). This trait is frequently mentioned in conjunction with his teachings and exorcisms as well as his healings. Jesus did not make use of complicated rituals or prayers:  his healings were simply and commonly accomplished through touch, by either him touching or being touched (Mark 1:41; 3:10). Blindness is an affliction commonly mentioned in the New Testament; Jesus healed several blind people in Capernaum, Bethsaida, Jerusalem, and Jericho (Mark 8:22–26, 10:46–52 [blind Bartimaeus begging in Jericho]; Matthew 9:27–31, 20:29–34 [two blind beggars at the side of the road outside Jericho]; Luke 18:35–43 [blind beggar at Jericho]; John 9:1–12). Patricia Bruce (2005, 42)  has pointed out that ‘being sick or disabled often went hand in hand with poverty and such people were frequently reduced to begging’. Evidently some of the aforementioned individuals were indeed beggars, and, interestingly, beggars in urban environments  – towns. Notably at the turn of the nineteenth century in Palestine, Masterman, a medical doctor, observed that there were an ‘extraordinary’ number of blind beggars in and around the towns (Masterman 1918, 69) – and inflammation of the eye was widespread. Bacterial conjunctivitis is one of the most commonly found eye problems in medicine. Highly contagious and potentially leading to blindness, it is preventable by hand washing92 and good hygiene practices. Trachoma93 is another bacterial eye infection and is the leading cause of preventable blindness worldwide. A  1931 census reported a high incidence of blindness in the villages of southern Palestine; summer epidemics of acute conjunctivitis and trachoma prevalent in Palestine were responsible for most of this blindness.94 John’s account of the healing of the blind man at Jerusalem is intriguing since Jesus took a distinctly pragmatic approach whereby he mixed clay with saliva and applied this to the infected eye (John 9:6–7). This calls to mind the natural healing properties of some of Israel’s and indeed Jordan’s soils and clays. The Dead Sea mud for all the present-day 92

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It is notable that hand washing was an accepted practice by the Pharisees and Jews at the time of Jesus (Mark 7:3). And many two-handled stone mugs suitable for this purpose have been recovered from Jewish sites, the mug easily being passed from one hand to the other. Trachoma is a contagious bacterial infection of the eye causing inflamed granulation on the inner surface of the lids. Shimkin 1935, 548–576.

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advertising does have anti-bacterial properties;95 test micro-organisms (Escherichia coli, Staphylococcus aureus, Propionibacterium acnes, and Candida albicans) rapidly lost their viability when added to Dead Sea mud.96 And Jordan’s red soils have antibiotic properties due to the proliferation of antibiotic-producing bacteria, which kill organisms such as Micrococcus luteus and Staphylococcus aureus.97 Thus there is the distinct possibility that Jesus as a healer was aware of the potency of such natural healing remedies.98 In the account of Jesus healing Simon’s mother-in-law, Luke (4:38– 39) is the only Evangelist to use the words ‘great fever’; Matthew (8:14– 15) and Mark (1:29–31) simply use the word fever.99 We can surmise that Luke, a physician (Colossians 4:14), used a more exact terminology and was hence referring to malaria, but there is no suggestion that the woman’s life was in danger. Furthermore, others have claimed that this was simply a bad bout of influenza based on the ‘the brief duration, high fever, and abrupt cessation of fever’ (Hon et al. 2010). Certainly the rapid 95

96 97 98

99

The general term ‘antimicrobials’ is used for any compound with a direct action on micro-organisms used for treatment or prevention of infections. Antimicrobials are inclusive of anti-bacterials, anti-virals, anti-fungals, and anti-protozoals. The term ‘antibiotics’ is synonymous with that of anti-bacterials (www.hma.eu/fileadmin/dateien/ Veterinary_ medicines/ 00- HMA_ Vet/ 02- HMA_ Task_ Force/ 03_ HMA_ vet_ TF_ AMR/ 2012_11_HMA_agreed_AB_AM_definitions.pdf). Ma’or et al. 2006. Falkinam et al. 2009. Eric Eve (2008) has compared Jesus’ use of saliva in healing a blind man at Bethsaida (Mark 8:22–26) with that of Vespasian using spittle in curing a blind man at Alexandria (Tacitus, Histories iv.81; Suetonius, Vespasian 7.2; and Cassius Dio, Roman History lxv.8). There had been a rapid turnover of emperors after the suicide of Nero in 68 ce, and these accounts indicate that Vespasian’s healings were acts calculated to help legitimize his claim to being emperor. Vespasian had been sent by Nero to suppress the Jewish Rebellion of 66 ce to 70 ce, and to Jews a healing by Vespasian would ‘have sounded like a usurpation of traditional messianic hopes’ (Eve 2008, 1). Moreover, if the Gospel of Mark was written after 70 ce, then the aforementioned histories of Vespasian’s healings would have been readily available. Thus Eve proposes that the Evangelist Mark was aware of Vespasian’s healing and used his healing reference to Jesus to ‘contrast the messiahship of Jesus with such Roman imperial “messianism” ’. In other words this was a rhetorical device used on the part of Mark. However, in contrast to Mark’s Gospel the key element of the healing in Johns’ Gospel is mud, and as we have seen this is highly significant, given its possible anti-bacterial properties. I would therefore question Eve’s assertion that the Markan accounts have no basis in reality. Moreover, there is good evidence that part of Mark’s Gospel was written pre-70 ce (see chapter 2). According to the AKJV: ‘And he arose out of the synagogue, and entered into Simon’s house. And Simon’s wife’s mother was taken with a great fever; and they besought him for her. And he stood over her, and rebuked the fever; and it left her: and immediately she arose and ministered unto them’ (Luke 4:38–39).

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recovery of the woman would argue for this. However, in John’s account of the healing of the official’s son at Capernaum there is an expectation of imminent death with this fever, and on that basis I would argue that the boy was most likely suffering from a form of malaria (John 4:46–53). It is evident that on occasion Jesus was not afraid to associate with potentially dangerous infections, for instance when he visited a leper at Bethany (Mark 14:3). All the Gospels refer to Bethany, but the Gospel of Mark mentions the village many more times (seven) and associates it with a man called Simon the Leper. Interestingly, one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Temple Scroll, records that those with ‘skin diseases’ were to live outside and to the east of Jerusalem, and this accords with the location of Bethany, which was also well out of sight of the city itself (11Q19 42:16– 18). The Synoptic Gospels record Jesus healing leprosy (Mark 1:40–44; Matthew 8:2–4; Luke 5:12–14; 17:11–14), but whether this was true leprosy or not is debatable. In all cases the Gospels record that the lepers were ‘cleansed’ and that Jesus told them to show themselves to the priest. The aforementioned complaints would appear to have a physical cause, especially since such afflictions are commonplace in less advantaged societies with inadequate healthcare systems. However, a psychosomatic element should not be ruled out in Jesus’ healings, particularly in relation to demonic possession. Notwithstanding, there is insufficient evidence to determine whether this was so or whether oppression (political, economic, social, and/or domestic) was a major factor giving rise to this. Jesus was immensely successful as an exorcist, and his deliverances (healing of mental illness) were closely allied to his eschatological teaching. Casting out demons was a signal that the kingdom of God was actually in the process of arriving (Matthew 12:28; Luke 11:20). In conclusion of this section Jesus evidently had connections with Judean society and, in order to fully comprehend his story, it is important to be aware of the highly contagious infections that seriously impacted Judean urban society, such as tuberculosis. He appears to have mainly avoided such environments. Jesus healed a wide range of chronic illnesses to enable the sick to gain entry to the kingdom of God in a state of wholeness, physically and mentally, and indeed morally (see chapter 3). The sufferers of such maladies would have responded well to the placebo effect, implemented by a strong charismatic character with a commanding presence. This latter factor is of the greatest importance in accounting for Jesus’ healing success.

6 Status, Power, and Wealth

More than insist on the rebuilding of covenantal community through collective responsibility for one another, Jesus led his followers in direct opposition to the power-holders and institutions that had centralized wealth by exploiting the people. Indeed, it would not be going too far to state that, according to the Gospels, it was Jesus’ adamant opposition to the centralization of power and wealth that resulted in his execution by crucifixion. (Richard A. Horsley 2014a, 93)

Introduction There are two opposing points of view concerning the socio-economic situation in first-century Galilee, pivoting on distinct differences in methodology:  that of the archaeologists using material remains,1 and that of some New Testament scholars employing modelling techniques borrowed from the social sciences.2 The archaeological approach argues for a thriving Galilee with little evidence for mass hardship, while that of the modellers tends to depict a Galilee in conflict, the rural poor groaning under oppression by the rich dwelling in the cities. The drawbacks of using models, particularly outmoded models, have been underlined by both Sawicki (2000, 66–67) and Jensen (2006, 30–34). And in a notable paper, ‘Disputed Issues in the Study of Cities, Villages, and the Economy in Jesus’ Galilee’, Mark A. Chancey (2011) has pointed out not only the shortcomings of modelling, but also the need to acknowledge that the empirical data (especially relating to taxation, monetization, and land 1 2

Reed 1994; 2000; Meyers 1997a; Strange 1997a; Aviam 2004a; 2004b; 2013a. Crossan 1991; 1999; Freyne 1995; Horsley 1996; Arnal 2000.

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tenure) are still insufficient and thus a root cause of inaccurate and confusing interpretations concerning socio-economics. Moreland (2004) has argued against ‘parasitic urban–rural relations’ for the early first century, that is the late 20s to 50s; in addition to a dearth of textual evidence relating to natural disasters and major peasant revolts, he cites two lines of archaeological evidence supporting his premise: 1) the absence of fortresses, and 2)  the lack of ‘extreme wealth’ in either of the two Galilean cities, Sepphoris and Tiberias. His second point is important in relation to status and power. Moreover, I would suggest the idea of a rigid urban–rural divide is questionable given the ‘urban nature’ of some of the villages identified from archaeology (see below). Jonathan Reed (2007, 405)  has identified a ‘social elite’ becoming prominent in some of the large villages, an elite ‘who expressed their wealth in a way that accentuated class divisions’. Indeed, it is the division between the social hierarchies within such villages that may well have contributed to some of the dissonance hinted at in the Gospel texts. From an archaeological perspective, Morten Jensen proposed that the huge increase of Galilean settlements established during and in the wake of the Hasmonean expansion, and in particular during the Herodian dynasty, reflects rapid economic growth right across the board. He depicts a booming first-century Galilee under the rule of Herod Antipas ‘when evaluated on general signs of decline or village enlargement, the presence of public buildings, industrial activities, and local upper-class quarters’ (Jensen 2006, 178, 246). Regarding those less favoured, Zangenberg (2010, 482) queried: 1) whether an increase in population and settlements would have occurred if there had been abject poverty, and 2) whether any poverty could have been alleviated through the means of the rich, for example by providing work constructing domestic and public buildings. Certainly Herod Antipas’s building programme was not as ambitious as that of Herod the Great, but continued until the early to mid-20s and would have helped fuel economic growth in Galilee.3 However, Sharon L. Mattila (2013, 110) pointed out that there is not necessarily a correlation between ‘population/commercial growth and greater prosperity on the part of the average individual’. This is an important point with reference to Jesus and his focus on the well-being of the individual. Jesus is remembered by the early church for championing the cause of the poor (Matthew 5:3; Mark 10:21/Matthew 19:21/Luke 18:22; Luke 4:18, 19:8; Luke 7:22/Matthew 11:5) and highlighting the dangers of 3

Edwards 1992, 63.

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being wealthy (Mark 12:41–44/Luke 21:1–4; Luke 6:20–26; 12:13–21; 16:19–31). Whittaker (1993b, 4) has warned that ‘mass poverty in both ancient and modern pre-industrial societies was and still is overwhelmingly a rural phenomenon, which is rarely documented’. Moreover, unless one has access to human remains4 it is extremely difficult to identify poverty in the archaeological record; rather, it is far easier to recognize wealth in the way of material remains such as valuable artefacts and impressive architecture and decor. There is a strong indication that many Judean farmers were debt-ridden, having had to take out loans from the rich to survive poor harvests; the inability to repay these debts resulted in the land being taken over by the Herodian and priestly aristocracy.5 It should not be forgotten that Jesus had strong links with Judea as well as Galilee: indeed, as Sean Freyne (2006b, 37) has emphasized, it was in Jerusalem that Jesus met his end.6 In order to gain some understanding of the social hierarchies in play, this chapter will compare and contrast levels of prosperity identified from a variety of settlements in Galilee, Gaulanitis, and Judea. From this perspective valuable insight can be gained into where true wealth lay in Palestine and thus the centralization of power that Horsley proposes that Jesus opposed (see above, opening quotation). The settlements that we will consider in the following sections are as follows:  Gaulanitis7 (Gamla,8 Bethsaida); Lower Galilee (Yodefat,9 Capernaum, Khirbet Qana,10 Nazareth, Sepphoris, Tiberias, Magdala); Mount Carmel (Ramat Hanadiv); and Judea (Jerusalem) (Figures  6.1 4

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7

8 9 10

There are various markers in bone and teeth that indicate stress, particularly that relating to childhood; these stress indicators include Harris lines, dental enamel hypoplasia, and anaemia (cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis) (Lewis 2007, 103–115). See chapter 2, pp. 46–47; Goodman 1987, 51–75. ‘Historians [and archaeologists] are missing an important clue to his career, however, if they ignore the fact that it was in Jerusalem rather than in Galilee that he eventually met his fate.’ Gaulanitis (Greek); Golan (Hebrew). ‘Historically the Golan formed a cultural extension of Jewish Galilee in the Second Temple Period and later’ (Aviam and Syon 2002, 183). Gamla (Gamala) meaning camel hump. Jotapata (Greek); Jodefat/Yodefat (Hebrew). There are two contenders for the site of Cana mentioned in the Gospel of John (2:1– 13): Kefar Kanna and Khirbet Qana (Charlesworth and Aviam 2014, 132–133). At Kefar Kanna there is evidence of houses dating back to the first century ce. At Khirbet Qana there are ‘inter alia, more than ten mikvot and many stone vessels, as well as two secret hideaways, one of which was precisely dated to the first century. Most likely these hiding places are mute witnesses to the threat of the Romans, who brutally murdered civilians.’ Khirbet Qana is generally considered to be the site of Cana; it has a long period of occupation from the Iron Age to the Arab periods, with ‘peaks of occupation in the Early

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Figure 6.1 Map of Palestine in the first century ce.

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Figure 6.2 Map of Galilee in the first century ce.

and 6.2). The quality of the archaeology for the early first century is exceptional at some of these places. The hill sites of Gamla and Yodefat are especially important as frozen time capsules – obliterated by Vespasian and his army in 67 ce, they were never occupied again. And the Jewish Quarter excavations in Jerusalem have uncovered spectacular remains of aristocratic houses in the Upper City which had stunning views overlooking the Temple Mount, all of which were destroyed by the Romans in 70 ce. Comparing and Contrasting the Wealthy in First-Century Palestine Galilee Galilee’s division into Lower and Upper Galilee reflects a distinct change in altitude between the two regions, the mountains of the latter being Roman and Early Byzantine periods’ (Aviam and Richardson 2001). Moreover, it sits well with the references to its location in Josephus (Life 206), who was stationed at Cana during the Jewish War (McCollough 2015, 129–130).

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twice the height of the former.11 At the time of Jesus this area was ruled by Herod Antipas (son of Herod the Great), while to the north the more precipitous and rugged Gaulanitis lay under the jurisdiction of his brother Philip. Lower Galilee consists of a western hilly area, a central area consisting of four mountain ranges running east–west, and an eastern part comprising hill and plateau portions, the easternmost part being the Kinnaret Valley (Sea of Galilee). Towards the south of Galilee lay the Great Plain, an extensive fertile area consisting of many imperial estates. The climate is mild, and fertile soils cover the valleys, but Upper Galilee is colder and wetter and dense vegetation covers many parts. The fertile soils, springs, and abundant rainfall made Lower Galilee an important agricultural region in the cultivation of grapes, wheat, and olives, typical of Mediterranean dry farming. This region contrasts strongly with the Judean highlands where water was at a premium, having to be extensively stored in cisterns; moreover, Judea was not well suited to agriculture since the valleys were narrow and the ridges retained hardly any topsoil, but pastoralism thrived. The foothills of the Shephelah to the west of Judea were more conducive to farming as they experienced a higher rainfall. On coming to power Herod Antipas concentrated his resources on 1) restoring Sepphoris, parts of which, according to Josephus,12 had been destroyed in the Galilean rebellion in 4 bce when Herod the Great died, and 2) building a new city, Tiberias, on the Sea of Galilee. Sepphoris is located 30 km east of the Mediterranean and also the same distance west from Tiberias. The city was built on a hill overlooking the Beit Netofa Valley and the following sites are in close proximity: 5 km to the southeast is Nazareth, and 5 km to the north is Khirbet Qana, while Yodefat is 9 km to the north. On the Galilean shore stretching north from Tiberias is the city of Magdala, then the villages of Capernaum and Bethsaida. New Testament scholars and archaeologists are at odds over the classification of Galilean archaeological sites in general. For example, Yodefat, Khirbet Qana, and Capernaum (all in Lower Galilee) and Gamla (Gaulanitis) have been referred to as both towns and villages, and sometimes cities.13 Freyne (2008, 580) underlined the fact that the first-century historian Josephus only mentions two types of settlement in Galilee – the village and the city – despite the fact that there must have been a range 11 12 13

The following two paragraphs are based on Aviam and Richardson 2001. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xvii.288–289; Jewish War ii.68–69. Charlesworth and Aviam 2014, 115–119.

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of settlement types such as towns, farmsteads, and hamlets; he points out that this has resulted from the ancient Greek vocabulary having only these two words to describe where the people lived. The same is true of the Gospel texts, which were originally written in Greek. Certainly, the populations of some of the ‘villages’ as stated by Josephus have either been exaggerated or indeed were small towns. For a settlement to be described as a town it is generally understood that the following basic features should be identified:  planning in the form of a grid, the presence of a marketplace, administrative/public building(s), and different levels of housing. Few of these features are immediately evident in the excavations of Galilean villages, and therefore one may well question whether we can consider them as towns.14 However, the topographies of some sites, such as Gamla, built on a rocky ridge, would not have allowed the settlements to have been laid out as a strict grid. There are signs of ‘modified or quasi-Hippodamian plans, especially in the early Roman period’ at Gamla, Khirbet Qana, and Yodefat.15 Furthermore, marketplaces could have been temporary erections in streets or at entrances into the sites, while it is possible that business was handled under the auspices of one or more of the elite and on premises which were part of their housing complex.16 No public buildings or agorae17 have been uncovered at Yodefat, although the excavated area was relatively small, but at Gamla there is a synagogue and another public building currently dubbed a ‘basilica’ since it partially resembles a Roman basilica, but its function has yet to be determined.18

14

15 16

17

18

Reed (2000, 139–160) gives the following reasons for categorizing Capernaum as a village: • not on a major international trade route • modest population • no centralized planning • no evidence of two intersecting thoroughfares • lack of civic buildings • no evidence of defensive fortifications or walls • no evidence for structures relating to the agora such as shops or storage facilities. Richardson 2004a, 57, 69; 2006, 216. With respect to the ‘small towns’ of Roman Britain, Burnham and Wacher 1990, 49–50 state: ‘[O]pen market areas need not be expected at all sites, because temporary stalls or even trestle tables could have been erected in side-streets, as in some modern towns today.’ Incidentally the ‘small towns’ of Roman Britain did not have grid plans or indeed administrative buildings. Greek public space for civic and commercial purposes (cf. forum); Richardson 2004a, 379. Richardson 2004a, 77, 80; Syon 2014b, 9.

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Notwithstanding, it is the variety of housing styles, their architecture and interior decoration, which suggests some of these sites were more than just agricultural villages. These factors, taken in conjunction with the scale of industrial activity uncovered, strongly indicate a distinctly urban flavour. Richardson (2004c) views Yodefat and Gamla as well as Khirbet Qana and Capernaum as urban when set against his typology of Levantine/Palestinian housing based on Hirschfeld (1995); this approach will be adopted and discussed below together with status. I have adapted his grading of Levantine/Palestinian houses from simple to complex as follows: Rural • caves • tents • farmhouse • villa Urban • single roomed: low end of social scale • terrace housing:  without courtyards typical in hillside towns and villages Gamla, Yodefat, and Khirbet Qana • side courtyard:  very common ‘standard house’ Gamla, Yodefat, Khirbet Qana, Capernaum, and cities such as Jerusalem and Sepphoris • central courtyard:  characteristic of larger houses Gamla, Yodefat, Khirbet Qana, and Capernaum and cities such as Sepphoris, Jerusalem, Jericho, and Magdala • peristyle courtyard:  cities such as Jerusalem, Caesarea Maritima, Jericho, and Magdala. Immediately apparent is the tiered ranking of society at Gamla, Yodefat, and Khirbet Qana, and to a certain extent Capernaum, reflected by the terrace, side courtyard, and central courtyard housing19 discovered in different areas of the ‘villages’. At Yodefat the houses were fairly basic, with earthen floors and rough, mud-plastered stone walls without mortar;

19

With regard to the courtyard house it is important to correct a major assumption made by many archaeologists: that the rooms do not necessarily reflect one family per room rather than one owner per house (Mattila 2013, 120). In an in-depth study of the courtyard houses excavated by the Franciscans at Capernaum, Mattila demonstrated that there was only one entrance from the street which could be secured, unlike the doorways between the rooms. Therefore there could only have been one owner per house.

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the terrace housing generally had two stories, sometimes three.20 One mansion was much larger; Aviam (2011, 31) comments: ‘In one of the rooms beautifully frescoed walls were discovered preserved to a height of 1.5 m. They are in the “masonry style” of the Pompeian second style, in red and ochre tables separated by black, white and green stripes, and frames of marble imitation … the floor itself is decorated with frescoes of red and black pavers. This is a rare find that was discovered in Israel only in the Herodian theater’s orchestra at Caesarea, and also at Leptis Magna in the 1st century ce orchestra.’21 While most of the housing at Gamla was terraced, large, well-built residences with paved courtyards of dressed stones were discovered, and some of these houses had stuccoed walls and mural frescoes imitating the Pompeian second style.22 Such painted plaster resembles that excavated from the Herodian palaces at Masada23 and also Tiberias.24 Even so, the Gamla plaster was not found in situ, unlike that of Yodefat. The higher-class inhabitants of Jerusalem also painted their house walls with ‘coloured panels, imitation marble, architectural patterns (columns and dentils) and floral patterns, some similar to the frescoes at Pompeii’ (Avigad 1993, 731). Although there were comparable mural frescoes in houses excavated on the western summit of Sepphoris, it is questionable whether they pertain to the early Roman period since the abundant fragments recovered appear to have been introduced at a later date, ‘perhaps during masonry recycling operations’ (Meyers et  al. 2015, 45).25 Nevertheless ‘most of the residences are moderately sized courtyard houses’ (c. 180 m2) probably having ‘no more than two stories’. Floors were mainly of plaster, no mosaic tesserae having been found in situ, unlike the well-preserved mosaics discovered in the Upper City of Jerusalem, which were also fitted in luxurious bathrooms. Reed has pointed out that the use of local building material (as opposed to marble) demonstrates that Sepphoris, like Tiberias, was only ‘second tier’ (Reed 2000, 118). However, marble was not widely used until the second century (see below), thus undermining

20 21 22 23 24 25

Richardson 2004a, 65, 76–79. According to Aviam (2013a, 23) the floor frescoes were designed as opus sectile. Aviam and Richardson 2001; Richardson 2004a, 80; Berlin 2006, 152. Gutmann 1993, 462. Aviam 2013a, 20. The difficulties of excavating the multi-period site of Sepphoris are underlined by Meyers et  al. 2015, 43; this was primarily due to the shallow nature of the stratigraphy and intrusion into earlier layers by later deposits.

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this conclusion. What is not clear is to what extent their infrastructures had been constructed by the early first century and the impact each had on their respective hinterlands. No public buildings have been found on the Sepphoris acropolis of firstcentury date. With regard to the rest of the site, Meyers dated the construction of the theatre, basilica, and other civic structures to 68–135 ce (Meyers 1998, 347, 351). While there has been an ongoing argument about the dating of the theatre, the ‘majority opinion dates it to the late first or early second century ce’ (Meyers and Chancey 2012, 119). This would be in line with the increased growth of the residential and civic areas in the late first and early second centuries.26 Moreover, as Meyers and Chancey (2012, 266) point out, the Roman army would have been instrumental in undertaking the work, given their expertise in engineering and surveying and their familiarity with building such structures in contrast with the indigenous population. And notably the army did not occupy Galilee until the early second century. Chancey (2001, 136) also pointed out that Sepphoris has not revealed any other first-century ce evidence for Graeco-Roman culture in the way of major public buildings such as a hippodrome, amphitheatre, odeon, nymphaeum, arches, stadium, pagan temples, or a gymnasium. And perhaps not surprisingly there is scant evidence of Gentiles.27 Most of the archaeology is from the second century or later. This is in contrast to first-century Caesarea Maritima, constructed by Herod the Great with infinitely greater resources than Antipas, which according to Josephus had a forum, theatre, amphitheatre, palace, temple, and marketplace (agora); excavation has located the theatre, amphitheatre, palace, temple, and also an impressive harbour.28 First-century material is rarely found at Tiberias,29 and it is debatable whether the impressive gateway (with two side towers) dates to Herod Antipas’s rule.30 Within the city a series of rooms have been excavated with floors laid down comprised of ‘carefully cut white, black and brown tiles’; this opus sectile31 flooring is almost identical to that from the Herodian palaces of Masada and Cypros (near Jericho) and the ceramics suggest an early first-century date (Zangenberg 2010, 472). 26 27 28 29 30 31

Weiss 2015, 67–68. Chancey 2001, 129. Raban 1993, 270; Chancey, 2002, 144–145. Jensen 2006, 138. Meyers and Chancey 2012, 119. The opus sectile technique comprised a decorative paving of geometric marble slabs, usually in several colours (Richardson 2004a, 381).

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However, Meyers and Chancey (2012, 119)  point out that this use of marble is uncommon at that time since the marble trade did not fully develop until after the Jewish rebellion, thus raising questions concerning the early date. As Chancey (2005, 99)  emphasizes, the Galilean cities of Sepphoris and Tiberias are not comparable with those elsewhere, such as Caesarea Maritima in Judea, Gerasa in the Decapolis, or indeed Pompeii, Herculaneum, or Ephesus. We can assume that at the time of Jesus the former cities were purely administrative capitals and held no territorial jurisdiction over their hinterlands, in contrast to the Hellenistic poleis of the Decapolis, which functioned independently.32 Notwithstanding, Josephus ranked Taricheae (Magdala) with Tiberias and Sepphoris as a polis, and Ubi Leibner’s survey of the area shows it to have been ‘the largest settlement in the region during the Early Roman period’ (Leibner 2009, 221–222). Certainly Magdala was a fully-functioning Hellenistic city built along the lines of the Hippodamic model; its impressive harbour and massive public bath complex was probably built during the Hasmonean period, while the first phase of the synagogue is dated to the late Second Temple period.33 As befits a city, the housing excavated ranged from lowly dwellings to large courtyard houses and even a peristyle mansion, which clearly belonged to the wealthy. Moreover, the houses in the western residential quarter to the south of the site demonstrate an impressive ‘continuity’ from the Hellenistic period to the late Roman, with early Roman masonry built on Hellenistic walls.34 One of the more lavish courtyard houses from the northern sector of the site, the House of Dice, consisted of fifteen rooms, one containing a high-quality mosaic, a courtyard, and two stepped pools. Evidently the Jewish inhabitants blended some Graeco-Roman customs with their own, as shown by 1) the public baths adorned with frescoes and mosaics (but devoid of statuary), and 2) the pre-70 ce synagogue embellished with ‘brightly colored frescoes’ and mosaics. Some aspects of Hellenism were evidently embraced, and this contrasts with Gamla, for example, where the much larger synagogue, although built of fine ashlars, was unornamented.35

32 33

34 35

Horsley 1995, 214–215. Zangenberg 2010, 475–476; De Luca and Lena 2015, 280–342; Bauckham and De Luca 2015, 91–118. De Luca and Lena 2015, 305–308; Bauckham and De Luca 2015, 113–114. Zangenberg 2010, 482.

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Unlike Gamla and Yodefat, Khirbet Qana cannot be assigned a terminus ad quem date since the village was continuously occupied. All three sites were built on hills and stretched back to the Hellenistic periods. Thus in order to determine early first-century levels, ceramic and numismatic data, and AMS radiocarbon dating were used and the following information gleaned.36 Terraced housing comparable with Gamla and Yodefat predominates, but there are also large houses including side courtyards, one containing a stepped pool carved into the rock, and a courtyard house. The courtyard house revealed an ‘interior pilaster with a nicely carved capital’ which formed part of an arch supporting a second floor; the house size and quality of plaster indicate an upper-class owner living in Khirbet Qana in the early Roman period (McCollough 2015, 138). Courtyard houses constructed out of basalt were also found at Capernaum and Nazareth, but there is no evidence of an upper class from the architecture and decor.37 Mattila (2013) has argued that the inhabitants of Capernaum were better off than the assumed38 subsistence level of fishermen and farmers on several counts, including the finding of luxury items from early Roman contexts (63 bce to 135 bce).39 Moreover, an early Roman courtyard house, the Western House, had an internal surface area of 97 m2, which was considerably larger than the late Roman Patrician House at Meiron (Upper Galilee), which was just 79 m2. Early Roman glassware was found nearby and currently is dated to the late first to second centuries; fourteen free-blown items comprised plates, bowls, a goblet, and flasks.40 Nevertheless, as Mattila (2013, 95) points out, ‘they are not as fine as the colored and colorless cast glass vessels and polychrome mosaic vessels that were recovered from the elite quarters of Jerusalem’. 36 37 38 39

40

McCollough 2013; 2015. Jensen 2006, 172. Reed 2000, 164; Crossan and Reed 2001, 85; Freyne 2006a, 76; Horsley 1996, 114–115. Mattila (2013, 90–129) challenges this on four fronts: 1. The finding of luxury items. Luxury items have been recovered from contexts dating to the early Roman period (63 bce to 135 ce) and also the Hellenistic period (323 bce to 63 bce); 2. The flaw in comparing and contrasting trade between early Roman and Byzantine periods outside of context; 3. The error of judging courtyard houses containing many rooms to reflect one family per room, rather than one owner per house; 4. And the error of judging the rude remains of the village houses without understanding possible embellishment which has long since perished. Mattila 2015, 245.

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Regarding Nazareth, since little evidence of the village had been found, Reed (2000, 132)  concluded that ‘the houses themselves were rather poorly made of fieldstones and mud, with thatched roofs and coverings over caves’. However, recently Ken Dark (2012) excavated a well-preserved courtyard house dating to the first century. This was partially rock-cut and had plastered walls suggesting a moderately welloff household. A stone spindle whorl and Kefar Hananya41 pottery was found within. Early first-century Bethsaida comprised ‘only simple rural houses built of fieldstones, with plastered and whitewashed walls’ (Arav and Savage 2015, 277). The abundance of fishing implements, hooks, net weights, line sinkers, and anchors indicates the main economy of the site was fishing. The owners of the Sepphoris houses (see above) appear to have been modest in their tastes; indeed, the full range of artefacts reflecting a ‘social elite’ was not recovered.42 Bone was used instead of ivory for cosmetic applications and, in general, pottery is of the common Galilean type with little evidence for fine wares and certainly none of the more costly terra sigillata. Furthermore, there is no evidence for the drinking of imported wine as no amphorae were recovered with stamped handles. With respect to the villages, luxury items such as part of a stone table and a multi-nozzle, grey oil lamp were recovered from Yodefat,43 and, as just mentioned, glassware was found at Capernaum. There is evidence that the upper echelon of Gamla owned a small number of Italian pans and lids in order to produce dishes according to Italian cuisine; however, such imported items occur in much larger numbers at the higher-status sites of Jericho, the Herodium, Masada, and the Upper City at Jerusalem.44 Locally manufactured forms were also produced. Danny Syon (2014b, 10) points out that ‘hundreds of beads and glass (cabochons), numerous finger rings and earrings (some of gold), gemstones and other items of jewelry found throughout the Wester Quarter of Gamla indicate the affluence of the inhabitants, as do numerous luxury items made of bone’. In a fascinating study of table settings, Andrea Berlin discovered a striking difference between the serving and dinning vessels utilized by the 41

42 43 44

Kefar Hananya located on the border between Upper and Lower Galilee (see Figure 6.2) produced and traded considerable quantities of cooking and storage ware to the surrounding villages. Reed 2000, 126. Aviam 2013a, 23. Rosenthal-Heginbottom 2003, 215–217; Berlin 2005, 441; 2006, 152.

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Galilean ‘villagers’ and those of the wealthy in Jerusalem (Berlin 2005, 442–448). In the early first century at Gamla, the dining ware was made out of pottery and stone, and comprised twenty small dishes for individual use, two to three jugs, and a large serving bowl; Berlin suggests food ‘would have been folded into bread or soup, rather than served separately’. She also found similar table settings at Bethsaida, Capernaum, and Yodefat. In contrast, in the Upper City of Jerusalem from the later first century bce to 70 ce ‘every sort of vessel necessary for a full personal table setting and for serving both food and drink occur: plates, bowls, cups and mugs, broad and narrow-necked jugs and several sorts of serving bowls’ (Berlin 2005, 446, citing Avigad 1984, 85–88, 117–118, 185–186; Gunneweg, Perlman, and Yellen 1986, 77–82 and Rosenthal-Heginbottom 2003, 2010–15). Furthermore, this encompassed a variety of decorated table ware, locally manufactured and imported from Italy, Cyprus, and the Phoenician coast. Judea During the period of the Herodian dynasty, Jerusalem attained a grandeur never before seen in the city. This growth is expressed mainly in public building projects such as the Temple Mount, the fortifications, and the public water supply. However, the Jewish Quarter excavations uncovered another Jerusalem – a secular, everyday Jerusalem with a residential quarter whose splendor outshone everything previously known in the city. (Nahman Avigad 1984, 260)

Professor Nahman Avigad not only directed the Jewish Quarter excavations in Jerusalem from 1969 to 1982, but swiftly produced a splendid publication describing the main finds well in advance of the final publications of each sector of the site (Avigad 1984). Unless specifically mentioned, the following account is based on this and, where mentioned, the subsequent excavation reports (Geva 2000b; 2003; 2006; 2010; 2012; 2014). Undoubtedly the houses discovered in the Upper City belonged to the elite of Judean society and are far grander than the houses of the Galilean upper classes at Gamla, Yodefat, and Sepphoris. Upper City is positioned on the Western Hill and is just slightly higher than the Temple Mount (Figure  6.3). Well-preserved and large, these houses resemble more luxurious villas or mansions. Indeed, one has been named the Palatial Mansion on account of its ground-size area – 600 m2. Another dating to the time of Herod the Great was c. 200 m2. This latter house was abandoned during Herod’s reign and the remaining ones came to an abrupt end with the storming of Jerusalem in 70 ce by the Romans.

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Figure  6.3 Plan of Jerusalem at the end of the Second Temple period. From Stern (ed.), The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (New  York:  Simon and Schuster, 1993), vol. 2, p.  718. By permission of Hillel Geva and the Israel Exploration Society.

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The buildings are of the courtyard type and there is a hint that there may even have been a peristyle type. Every house was fitted with at least one mikveh, sometimes two or more, located by the bathroom, which contained a full-size bathtub and sometimes a footbath, together with a cistern(s), all these features having been carefully carved out of the bedrock and acting as one unit. Since Jerusalem relied on rain for its water supply there was an extensive system of cisterns throughout the city. Coloured mosaics decorated the bathrooms as well as other rooms. These bathrooms symbolize extreme wealth and are not found outside Jerusalem with the exception of the Herodian palaces. The mosaics show that the aristocrats had a keen sense of GraecoRoman style, as do the frescoes mentioned earlier (Figure 6.4). The former are the earliest to be found in Jerusalem and date from Herod the Great’s reign to the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 ce. Comparable mosaics have been discovered in Herod’s palace at Masada. These mosaics, in accordance with contemporary Jewish ideals, depict geometric and floral motifs with no human or animal representations. Another kind of flooring employing coloured stone tiles (as opposed to cubes) in the form of black squares and red triangles was found; this is the Roman technique of opus sectile mentioned above in connection with the supposed palace at Tiberias. Other examples have been found in Herod’s palaces at Jericho and Masada. The wall paintings have been executed expertly and wet and dry plaster techniques have been used; they are also innovative, introducing ‘floral and architectural motifs’ (Avigad 1984, 150) unknown in Israel at that time.45 The wealth of the Upper City residents is further exemplified by some of the portable finds, including ‘painted pottery bowls, red-slipped imported terra sigillata ware, a stone sundial and an elaborate glass decanter signed by Enion of Sidon’ (Avigad 1984, 731). Furniture in the form of two types of carefully crafted stone table (high and low) was also common in wealthy homes. Interestingly, Avigad underlined the copious amount and variety of stone vessels used, including finely crafted, large goblet-like jars (Figure 6.5). This is a significant factor when taken in conjunction with the frequency of miqwa’ot found, especially the large number recorded for the 45

Wall paintings in situ and countless other fragments have been unearthed at another site in the Upper City on Mount Zion (Broshi 1976, 81–88). Unusually birds are depicted in contradiction of the Mosaic law of not making any graven images (Exodus 20:4). In addition, the mansions excavated were similar to those of the Jewish Quarter and contained miqwa’ot (Magness 2011, 10).

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Figure  6.4 Mosaic floor in the Jewish Quarter. Courtesy of Zev Radovan/ BibleLandPictures.com

Palatial Mansion, and thus Avigad queried that this might have been the residence of one of the high priests who were known to have lived in this area at the time of Jesus. Moreover, the Aramaic inscription on the stone weight recovered from the basement workshop of another dwelling, the Burnt House, reads ‘(of) Bar Kathros’, or ‘(of) the son of Kathros’. As Avigad (1984, 130)  states:  ‘The “House of Kathros” is known as one of the families of High Priests who, in practical terms, ruled the Jews of Palestine in the days of the Roman Procurators.’ Since the Burnt House was close to the Temple Enclosure it is highly likely that this house, the Palatial Mansion, and possibly other houses belonged to families of the high priests. That these houses had such a wonderful vantage point overlooking the Temple Mount is also noteworthy. There were also bridges connecting the Temple via the western wall gate with the

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Figure 6.5 Stone table and vessels from the Burnt House in the Jewish Quarter. Courtesy of Zev Radovan/BibleLandPictures.com

Upper City,46 for example Wilson’s Arch spanning the Tyropoeon Valley which leads into the Court of the Gentiles, and this strengthens the high priestly link. With respect to the foregoing points, the unusual abundance of silver in pottery assemblages recovered from the Jewish Quarter excavations is striking. Originally the analysis of the pottery was undertaken as part of an extensive project to find out the chemical compositions and production provenances of pottery recovered from late Second Temple period sites in Roman Judea; the sample size comprised 1,175 pottery vessels from thirty-eight rural and urban sites in Roman Judea.47 Only the pottery from the Jewish Quarter excavations in Jerusalem (dating to the late first century bce to 70 ce) as opposed to that recovered from rural sites outside the city showed an anomalously high percentage of silver, and Adan-Bayewitz et  al. (2006a; 2006b) have suggested this may be indicative of the overall wealth of the area at that time. Aqueous transport of corroded silver in groundwater and its subsequent absorption by the pottery accounts for the silver presence. Since it is thought that the silver

46 47

Safrai 1976, 866. Adan-Bayewitz et al. 2006a; 2006b.

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had originally been deposited by human means, Josephus’ comments are highly relevant in the aftermath of the capture of Jerusalem in 70 ce. Of the vast wealth of the city no small portion was still being discovered among the ruins. Much of this the Romans dug up, but the greater part they became possessed of through the information of the prisoners, gold and silver and other most precious articles, which the owners in view of the uncertain fortunes of war had stored underground. (Jewish War vii.113–115)

Thus it seems reasonable to suggest that some of the inhabitants of the Jewish Quarter area were likely to have been the high priests and their families, the upper echelons of society who enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle and were immensely wealthy. Power and status can also be identified in the countryside via impressive agricultural estates,48 the nearest approach to a Roman villa. For example, not far from Nazareth and located south of Mount Carmel, about 7 to 8 km north-east of Caesarea, Ramat Hanadiv covers c. 450 hectares and consists of two sites: Horvat ‘Eleq and Horvat Aqav, which were 2 km apart. At Horvat ‘Eleq an orthogonal structure (4,800 m2) was discovered with 2 m-thick walls together with four corner towers and four intermediate ones. In the centre of the site was a huge tower, originally over 20 m high, and next to this a sizeable residential and storage area. A dovecote providing pigeon manure as fertilizer and an olive press were also found. The other site, Horvat Aqav, was smaller but similar, comprising an orthogonal complex surrounded by a wall (1.3 m thick); inside was a residential quarter, agricultural installations (a cistern, two wine presses, and an olive press), and a tower with a wall (1.2 m thick) built into the south-western corner. Interestingly, Hirschfeld (2006b, 387) declared that ‘the tower was a symbol of power and rule’, a place ‘for storing the estate treasures’ as well as being ‘the temporary dwelling of the land-owner when he visited the site’. There is textual evidence indicating towers were constructed to prevent agricultural resources from being stolen (Isaiah 5:2; Matthew 21:33; Mark 12:1). Horvat ‘Eleq was supplied with water via an aqueduct, and there was a swimming pool (300 m3) and a heated bathhouse. One round tower contained a columbarium (dovecote) and an olive press. Hirschfeld (1998, 74–80; 2006b, 384–388) proposed that the owner emanated from the Jewish aristocracy, but this has been challenged by Magness

48

Hirschfeld 1998, 74–80; 2006b, 384–388.

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(2011, 11–12) on several grounds including, importantly, the lack of miqwa’ot and stone vessels, which suggest a Roman owner. This proposal is supported by the animal bone assemblage for the following reasons: in contrast to the usual Palestinian profile of sheep/goats, the main domestic animals raised were cattle which had been slaughtered for tender beef, the bones exhibiting the Roman butchery method of large-scale meat processing using cleavers rather than knives (most likely to sell in the markets at nearby Caesarea) (see below, section on meat); butchered bones of non-kosher animals, pig and camel, were identified with a pig radius shaft showing a healed fracture indicative of animal husbandry (see chapter 4, p.  101). The fact that Ramat Hanadiv was abandoned in 70 ce is strongly indicative that the owners were associated with the Jewish Revolt and likely had Jewish sympathies. Since the bathhouse was of comparable quality to the Herodian bathhouses at Masada, Jericho, Herodium, and Cypros, Hirschfeld suggested that the owner ‘directly influenced by the king … was probably one of his close associates’. Nevertheless, the remains of a miqweh have been found at Horvat Aqav, indicating Jewish ownership. So in the early Roman period in addition to villages the rural population of Judea lived on farms or large estate manors.49 Villas along Roman lines are rarely found in Judea and most estate owners lived in fortified mansions, as above, or villages.50 Indeed, Fergus Millar (1993, 535–544) has stated: ‘the East was a world of villages and it was there that much of the wealth of the region was created’. We will examine this in the next section particularly in relation to Galilee. The Generation of Wealth In order to understand where the rich obtained their wealth we need to set the archaeological sites in context; in other words we need to examine the land, in particular the partitioning of it, and who owned it. David Fiensy (2007, 42–43) in his extensive survey has underlined the ‘ample evidence  – literary, inscriptional, and archaeological  – that many large estates existed in Herodian Palestine (from Idumea to the Great Plain51)’. South of the Nazareth ridge, the Great Plain comprised the most fertile soil in Galilee and a large Herodian estate existed there which would have 49 50 51

Hirschfeld 1998, 79. Applebaum 1989, 163. Great Plain = Plain of Esdraelon = Jezreel Valley.

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been worked by tenant and day labourers and slaves. A huge number of wine presses (p. 117) have been identified along the southern edge of the plain representing a highly profitable wine industry operating on an industrial scale, which in all likelihood was in existence during the preceding Hellenistic period.52 Whether north of the Nazareth ridge there were any large estates is still a moot point. In contrast with the preceding Hellenistic period, farmers no longer lived on their farms but in villages. It was originally thought that Lower Galilee consisted of many small farms from 1 to 15 acres in size, with most being 4 acres;53 however, parts of this ancient field system could have belonged to different estates. On the one hand, since there is no evidence from the field networks of farms being sacrificed in order to establish large estates, it could be reasoned that the village farmers were not too hard-pressed. On the other hand, one could postulate that one or more well-off villagers may have owned several farms apiece, and that the village was in part comprised of upper-class individuals, tenant farmers, and independent farmers. Certainly, the identification of an upper class in some of the villages and a social hierarchy in general, as evidenced by the housing, provides considerable support for the latter proposal. Moreover, Fiensy has recently suggested that there were large estates in the Beit Netofa Valley which Sepphoris overlooked; his case rests on textual (Josephus and rabbinic literature) and indirect archaeological evidence.54 With regard to the latter he proposed that the wealth needed to build the houses at Sepphoris (Western Domestic Quarter) could only have emanated from agriculture in the Beit Netofa Valley. This is a valid and important point. Thus with reference to the villages already discussed some of the more affluent village houses may have been owned by the elite of Sepphoris, Tiberias, or further afield, and indeed ownership may well have extended to the village itself or several villages in the same vicinity. Two parables of Jesus exemplify the position of the tenant farmer in the first century:  the parable of the Vineyard (Mark 12:1–4), where at harvest time the owner expects his servants to receive his due share of the fruit from the tenants, and the parable of the Shrewd Manager (Luke 16:1–14), where two farmers were in debt to a rich man to whom they

52 53 54

Fiensy 2012, 138. Golomb and Kedar 1971, 136–140. Fiensy 2012.

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owed considerable amounts of olive oil and wheat. Clearly relations had not been good between the owner and tenants in the first parable. Many villages were not solely reliant on farming the land but were involved in a variety of activities additional to farming,55 thus ensuring an economic safety net for inclemency (see below). Hazards, such as unfavourable weather or disease, both human and animal, would have had to be dealt with. The village elite would have been the driving force behind this ingenuity and the first to benefit from any profits. Notwithstanding, it is reasonable to question how some of the poorer villages would have related to Herod Antipas’s ‘newly refurbished city’ of Sepphoris. It has been readily accepted that refurbishing Sepphoris and building a new city (Tiberias) led to the over-exploitation of the Galilean villagers, through heavy taxation and the annexing of land for the new elite.56 However, calculating Antipas’s tax revenues from Josephus’ figures is not reliable.57 Moreover, Jensen (2006, 162)  has underlined that Sepphoris was ‘in its “urban infancy”, only just deserving the term polis in comparison with the surrounding urban areas’. The same was true of Tiberias. Here settlement surveys are extremely important: for example, Ken Dark’s settlement survey (2008) of the area between Nazareth and Sepphoris, the Nahal Zippori Valley. Although Nazareth is only 5 miles away from Sepphoris, Dark located a distinct cultural boundary between the two places; the agricultural settlements nearer Nazareth only used artefacts specifically identified as Jewish, whilst those closer to Sepphoris used a wider range of material including Roman imports. Moreover, no road has been identified between Nazareth and Sepphoris, although, interestingly, there was a ‘good road between Nazareth and the larger more Romanized towns around the Sea of Galilee’. Similarly, before the Jewish Revolt there was no notable road linking Khirbet Qana with Sepphoris or other centres.58 Indeed, the road from Tiberias to Ptolemais via Sepphoris was not on a major international trade route; only interregional traffic used it.59 One of the settlements on the Sea of Galilee is the aforementioned Magdala (Migdal Nun),60 which has been identified as Taricheae of the Hellenistic period, the name associated with the salting of fish.61 55

56 57 58 59 60 61

The inhabitants of Yodefat had diversified their activities to embrace not only pastoral farming but that of industry (Aviam 2013a, 44). Horsley 1996, 92; 2008, 79; Freyne 2001a, 204. Udoh 2014, 384. McCollough 2013, 65. Reed 2000, 146–148. Migdal (Hebrew); Magdala (Aramaic); Taricheae (Greek). Freyne 1995, 100. Taricheae was famous for salted fish, which was a major Galilean export (Strabo, Geography 16.2.45; Fiensy 2007, 46).

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The site is ‘at the crossroads of main regional trade routes’ linking the ‘cities of the Decapolis to the east, the coastal centres to the west, and, likely, Syria and Phoenicia to the north’.62 There are remains of an impressive harbour and quay, and a large fish processing area has been tentatively identified.63 Omri Lernau (2018, 44) identified a considerable number of freshwater fish in the first-century rubbish dump, located just outside the city wall of Jerusalem on the west slope of the Kidron Valley; he has suggested that these fish were imported from Magdala to Jerusalem. Although some Galilean fishermen owned their boats (Mark 1:20) they were still part of ‘a state-regulated, elite-profiting enterprise, and a complex web of economic relationships’ (Hanson 1997, 100). This fishing industry would have generated considerable profits for the Herodian aristocracy. The salting of the fish for preservation would have produced two additional and highly marketable products much sort after in the Roman world: fish source (the best known being garum) and fish paste (allec).64 Despite the evidence of village expansion in the early first century there is no concomitant increase in monetization in the villages.65 Few Roman coins have been found in first-century contexts. Indeed, there was far more Hasmonean coinage in circulation than Herodian, which was minted as political propaganda material for Herod Antipas.66 The Hasmonean coinage consists of small bronze coins for everyday transactions, while Tyrian67 coinage comprising high-value silver continued to act as the mode for more costly business. It is significant that major changes in material culture only occurred prior to and after Antipas’s rule, that is the Hasmonean period and after the Second Jewish Revolt in the second century.68 That there was no increase in the minting of small change and no evidence of a formal marketplace69 (such as an agora at Sepphoris)

62 63 64 65 66 67

68 69

De Luca and Lena 2015, 286. Bauckham and De Luca 2015. Bauckham and De Luca 2015, 111–112. McCollough 2013, 54. Jensen 2007a, 8. Moreland 2007, 156: ‘Tyrian coins are thought to be prevalent at Galilean sites because they were the most stable currency; their abundance is thought to be due to the ability of Tyre to produce mass quantities of coins over a long period of time, and because they were the accepted currency in the Jerusalem temple.’ Chancey 2002; 2005. Unlike Sepphoris and Tiberias, which had one or more marketplaces by the second century, there was no marketplace (forum or agora) at Cana, Gamla, Yodefat, Capernaum, Chorazin, or other Galilean villages (Richardson 2006).

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are strong arguments against a market economy and for a low level of urbanization in Galilee.70 However, this does not mean Galileans mainly bartered their goods, as it would appear ‘thousands of Hasmonean coins were still in circulation’, and these coins have been recovered from more than a hundred sites (Charlesworth and Aviam 2014, 130). In the early first century it appears there was an extensive trade ‘network’ in high-quality cookware and storage jars. The latter were made at Shikhin in Lower Galilee, and neutron activation analysis has shown that such jars formed a significant proportion of the jars recovered from Galilean sites in general.71 The village of Kefar Hananya (on the border between Upper and Lower Galilee) was a major producer of cookware, and this pottery was marketed throughout Upper and Lower Galilee, the Golan,72 and also Sepphoris, as well as Acco-Ptolemais and Caesarea Philippi (Banias).73 None of this pottery was exchanged south of the Nazareth ridge.74 Notwithstanding, Aviam has claimed that similar pottery vessels were probably produced by other Galilean villages, suggesting production may have been much more local; for example, Yodefat produced significant amounts of pottery identical to Kefar Hananya ware, and a ‘potters quarter’ was excavated revealing four pottery kilns (Aviam 2007, 18; 2013a, 27; 2015, 114). Aviam’s archaeological excavations at Yodefat and his investigations into land use around the site have yielded important results (Aviam 2011; 2013a). Olive oil was produced although not on the same scale as Gamla; in a cave near two higher-class houses, each with a miqweh, was located an olive press. However, it was in the extensive textile industry that the village excelled itself; spindle whorls and more than 250 fired-clay pyramidal loom weights were found, the largest amount ever recovered from Roman Palestine (only ninety were excavated at Gamla). Not surprisingly, the age profiles of the animal bones indicate that sheep were reared for wool. Thus the villagers were thriving traders as well as zealous farmers, or to be more exact certain individuals of the village hierarchy who were the driving force. In contrast to Yodefat, several mills and two large olive presses were found at Gamla which would have produced flour and oil on an industrial

70 71 72 73 74

Jensen 2006, 215; Richardson 2006, 127. Adan-Bayewitz et al. 1995, 180–187. See note 7. Adan-Bayewitz and Perlman 1990; Adan-Bayewitz 1993; Edwards 2007, 364. Meyers 1997a, 61.

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scale.75 A house complete with miqweh associated with these finds (flour mills and one olive press) was of upper socio-economic status, as were the ones at Yodefat. Thus certain villagers owned these properties and supervised the associated industries, which were clearly making a profit. At Khirbet Qana at least one columbarium (dovecote) has been found, and, while the birds would have been good to eat, their droppings would have been valuable manure. From the evidence of wasters there was also a glass-making installation indicative of a first-century date.76 Further, a ‘complex of cells or vats’ associated with two possible ritual baths ‘may have been used for dying, tanning, or a fullery’ (McCollough 2013, 65). Both Richardson (2006) and later McCollough (2013, 65) have referred to a ‘coherent economic unit’ formed by the villages of Yodefat and Khirbet Qana, in that there was no overlap in industrial activity between them. One complements the other. Although large houses with multiple rooms were found, there is little to indicate the presence of high-class individuals at Capernaum.77 There is some evidence of the village having been a manufacturing centre for millstones, and large basalt grinders were transported to Cyprus; however, whether this dates to the first century is debatable.78 In conclusion: the early first-century villages were acting in such a way as to generate a Galilean self-sufficiency. In line with the Roman Empire their income was not just based on agriculture but trade and industry.79 This allowed the emergence of a higher class in some of the Galilean villages that espoused Graeco-Roman tastes. Moreover, it would appear there was scarcely any difference in status between these village elites and those of Sepphoris; indeed, they may well have been closely associated. But there was a huge disparity in wealth between them and the city of Magdala, so much so that Bauckham and De Luca (2015, 114) have recently stated: ‘It may well have been the wealthy elite of Magdala, some of whose houses we now know, that Jesus had in mind when he denounced the rich.’ While Jesus may well have admonished the Magdalanians and indeed some of the more prosperous villagers, it is imperative to remember that it was in Jerusalem where he angrily confronted the chief priests and pointed to their greedy and corrupt behaviour with reference to the poor.80 75 76 77 78 79 80

Syon 2014b, 9. Edwards 2002, 116–117; McCollough 2013, 62. See Jensen 2006, 175. Edwards 2007, 366; 2009, 228. Hopkins 1978, 55, cited by Edwards 1988, 176. See my chapter 2.

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The Herodian and priestly aristocracy in Jerusalem had adopted the very best of Graeco-Roman culture in line with their religion, and clearly had access to enormous wealth (see above). Martin Goodman (1999, 69–76; 2007, 59–67) has emphasized that the ‘prosperity of Jerusalem lay in the temple’ and that any wealth would have been generated by the service industries associated with the pilgrim festivals held in Jerusalem with three main festivals a year; the vast numbers of pilgrims would have needed accommodation, food, drink, ‘luxuries and souvenirs’. Jerusalem was surrounded by poor agricultural land not suited to the growing of crops for trade; indeed, the city was not even located on an ‘important trade route’. Significantly, there is no evidence for mass pilgrimage before Herod the Great’s reign, and Goodman has suggested Herod was the catalyst who with his acute business acumen seized the opportunity to increase his revenues. Notwithstanding, it seems unlikely that he would have benefited from such a venture since ‘it takes time for investment in infrastructure to pay off’. Thus it is apposite to ask who would have been the main recipients of the revenue generated at the time of Jesus  – the most likely answer would be the high priesthood. Meat as a Status Symbol One reliable measure of status for early pre-industrial societies is based on the procurement and consumption of meat, especially prime cuts. With regard to Roman Palestine there are two opposing views concerning this: 1) that the people ate little meat,81 and 2) that the people ate reasonable quantities of meat.82 The former viewpoint is based on textual evidence from the Talmud,83 which suggests that, meat being a luxury, sheep, goats, and cattle were raised primarily for draught, milk, and wool, while the latter opinion is based on archaeological evidence in the form of animal bone assemblages. The crux of the argument lies in how these assemblages are interpreted. Table  1 shows the number of identifiable bone fragments and their percentages for the main domesticates recovered from a selection of sites

81 82 83

Safrai 1981, 90; Broshi 1986. Dar 1996, 332; Lev-Tov 2003, 427; Bar-Oz et al. 2007, 1. Broshi (1986, 132–133) states ‘… it seems that meat consumption in our period was pretty low, with most of the population eating meat only on holidays and feast days. Only the wealthy ate meat every Saturday.’ However, he adds that the priests ‘ate the meat of the sacrifices in great quantities, frequently gorging themselves.’

171

4080 (85%) 4470 (86%) 1806 (64%) 130 (36.8%) 72 (55%) 186 (60%) 81 (87%) 107 (85.6%) 502 (60.8%) 204 (58.4%) 221 (62%) 48% 128 (45.3%) 482 (57%) 1799 (61%) 327 (69.4%) 111 (69.8%) 114 (62.2%) 289 (47.4%)

Early Roman Early Roman

Early Roman Early Roman Roman-Byzantine Early Roman Early Roman Roman-Byzantine Hellenistic-Roman Roman Roman-Byzantine Hellenistic-early Roman Early Hellenistic Late Hellenistic-early Roman Persian Hellenistic Hasmonean Roman Roman

Tel Anafa

Tel Michal

Yodefat Bethsaida

Sepphoris

Jerusalem City Dump (southern cut) area D3 Jerusalem Temple Mount Horvat ‘Eleq Mount Carmel Sumaqa Mount Carmel Khirbat Burnat Horbat Rimmon Shephelah

688 (71%) 90%

Early Roman Early Roman

Jerusalem City of David Jerusalem City Dump (northern cut) area L

S/G

DATE

SITE

999 (35%) 215 (60.9%) 58 (44.3%) 124 (40%) 11 (11.8%) 18 (14.4%) 267 (32.3%) 129 (37%) 101 (28.4%) 32% 145 (51.4%) 339 (40%) 1136 (38.5%) 144 (30.6%) 46 (28.9%) 65 (35.5%) 182 (29.9%)

717 (15%) 728 (14%)

284 (29%) 10%

CATTLE

2 (1.2%) 4 (2.2%) 138 (22.7%)

57 (6.9%) 16 (4.6%) 34 (9.6%) 2% 9 (3.2%) 25 (3%) 12 (0.4%)

1 (1.1%)

2 (0.07%) 8 (2.3%) 1 (0.8%)

PIG

Redding 1994

Hellwing and Feig 1989

Cope after Aviam 2011 Fisher 2005

Grantham 1996

Reich et al. 2015 Horwitz 2000 Horwitz 1990 Reich et al. 2015 Horwitz 1998

Bouchnick 2016 Spiciarich et al. 2017

Horwitz 1996 Bar-Oz et al. 2007

REFERENCE

Table 1 Relative number of bone fragments (NISP) and percentages of the main domesticates sheep/goat, cattle, and pig

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in ancient Palestine. The first point to notice is that these assemblages are not large when compared with Roman sites from the Roman northwestern provinces.84 Only a few demonstrate samples above a thousand fragments in total. Secondly, so far, with the exception of the city’s main garbage dump to be described below, few intensive programmes of dry and wet sieving have been implemented in Israel in order to retrieve reliable samples of fish and birds, the bones of which can be remarkably small. Thus this section will concentrate mainly on the larger domesticates: cattle, sheep/goats, and pigs. Tel Michal is situated on the coastal plain of Israel on a ridge 12.5 km north of Jaffa (Joppa). It exemplifies many Near Eastern sites where the subsistence economy was based mainly on the herding of sheep and goats, which provided the main source of meat throughout the occupation of the site.85 Indeed, the ratio of sheep/goat to cattle bones remains fairly similar across all periods from the Persian to that of the Roman. Sarah Bisel (1989, 233)  undertook a mineral analysis (strontium/calcium ratios) of human remains from the large Persian cemetery, and she observed that the people ate a diet high in terrestrial meat, supplemented by coarse, unleavened bread and unrefined cereal products. But how true would this have been of other sites in Roman period Palestine? A remarkable garbage dump of first-century Roman animal bones was discovered outside the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem, on the western slopes of the Kidron Valley.86 Bone samples from the northern cut of the dump stand apart from other Palestinian ones in having the highest percentage of sheep/goat remains (two sheep to one goat) and, in conjunction with other Jerusalem sites, scarcely any evidence of pig (Table 1).87 Since the dump lay close to the Temple Mount, and the deposits forming the bone assemblage contained a much greater percentage of cooking pots than those recovered from the upper city dwellings, Reich (2011, 224)  proposed that the rubbish had mainly emanated from pilgrims ‘staying temporarily in and around the city’.88

84

85 86

87

88

King 1984; 1999. If one considers how many bones comprise a cow, sheep, goat, or pig’s skeleton it makes sense only to undertake a detailed analysis on bone samples of hundreds, preferably thousands, instead of scores of bones. Hellwing and Feig 1989, 246. Reich and Shukron 2003; Hartman and Bar-Oz et  al. 2013, 4370; Bouchnick 2016, 303–321. Sediments were ‘carefully sifted and floated in order to achieve a maximum retrieval of faunal and floral remains’ (Bar-Oz et al. 2007, 2). This garbage dump formed the northern part of a large landfill, the southern part of which, further away from the Temple Mount, has yielded a large quantity of butchered

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Indeed, most of the sheep/goats are male and are represented by skull fragments, highly indicative of ritual activity associated with the Temple.89 Furthermore, the avian bone sample is unusual in that it comprises a large percentage of pigeons (23%),90 likely Temple offerings, since this was the poor person’s sacrifice in the late Second Temple period (Mark 11:15; John 2:16). The bones consist of meat-bearing and non-meat-bearing elements indicative of primary and secondary slaughter. Moreover, 53% of the sheep/goats had been slaughtered at less than twelve months of age, thus underlining the consumption of lamb/kids.91 Despite the fact that this is one of the few sites sieved, no luxury dietary items were found in the form of, for example, exotic fruits and seeds, although the identified fraction yielded, in addition to pigeons, a few chicken and fish92 bones. Bar-Oz et  al.’s bone analysis (2007, 6)  revealed that the sheep and goat bones varied in size and robustness; this morphological variation suggested the animals originated from different geographical areas. Thus Hartman and Bar-Oz et al. (2013) sampled various locations in the city dump and via a carbon and nitrogen isotope analysis compared these sheep/goat remains with other archaeological material and modern wild herbivores from a variety of known environments. The results demonstrate that a good proportion of the animals consumed in first-century Jerusalem (c. 37%) emanated from rural desert regions located hundreds of miles away such as Arabia and Transjordan. Because the economy of Jerusalem centred on the Temple through the massive influx of pilgrims, especially from the diaspora, Hartman and Bar-Oz et  al. argue that local resources would not have been able to provide the vast numbers of animals needed for sacrifice and consequently to boost the Temple economy. Therefore, extra animals were brought in from considerable distances away and, indeed, their results would seem to confirm this. Additionally, we have supporting textual evidence which indicates that sheep/goat transportation was happening at least by the beginning of the second century bce.93 Different figures have been proposed for the number of sacrifices made at the Feast of the Passover ranging from 30,000 lambs (Sanders 1992,

89 90 91 92 93

animal bone emanating from domestic slaughter and consumption (Spiciarich 2018, 43). Extensive wet and dry sieving and flotation techniques have been employed. Spiciarich et al. 2017, 113, citing Bouchnick 2011, 172; Spiciarich 2018, 43. Spiciarich et al. 2017, 110, citing Bouchnick 2011, 73. 71% before two years of age (Bouchnick 2016, 16, Table 16.3). Cichlidae, Mugilidae, Sparidae, and Scombridae. After Eupolemus and Josephus, cited by Joachim Jeremias 1969, 38, 47.

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136) to 255,600 lambs (Josephus, Jewish War vi.425). If one considers the killing would have taken place over one day and that at least several hundred thousand people would be in the Temple vicinity, the immensity of the operation is stupendous. Certainly, the Temple was acting as a slaughterhouse on an enormous scale!94 Another assemblage of bone from the same dump but from the southern cut (area D3)95 also revealed a high percentage of sheep/goat remains (3 sheep:2 goats), but these animals had been slaughtered for meat mainly at eighteen months. Male and female animals were evenly represented, unlike the northern cut. Cattle were also exploited for their meat and were killed off before three years. Unlike the northern cut samples, some older animals were kept for breeding and secondary products, and also for draught. The avian bones were dominated by chicken (Gallus gallus), with goose (Anser anser), duck (Anas platyrhynchos), and partridge (Alectoris chucker) also present. However, no pigeon bones were recovered in contrast to the northern cut. Hence this assemblage seems of a more secular nature, possibly originating from the rubbish of the Lower City inhabitants. Fish also provided sustenance for the Jerusalemites, with mullet from the Mediterranean dominating the landfill assemblage (43%).96 Nile perch was also identified, a common import from the Nile Valley (2.7%). What is surprising is the considerable number of freshwater fish belonging to the carp family (36%). These fish, together with the cichlids (2.7%) and the catfish (1.4%), all inhabiting the Sea of Galilee, may well have been imported from the salting plants of Magdala. To return to the question of meat generally, Hartman and Bar-Oz et al. (2013) have stated that although meat was eaten this was not on a daily basis, while Lev-Tov (2003, 429)  has argued that the small fraction of wild animals identified in Palestinian assemblages signifies meat (from

94

95 96

‘Accordingly, on the occasion of the feast called Passover, at which they sacrifice from the ninth to the eleventh hour, and a little fraternity, as it were, gathers round each sacrifice, of not fewer than ten persons (feasting alone not being permitted), while the companies often include as many as twenty, the victims were counted and amounted to two hundred and fifty-five thousand six hundred; allowing an average of ten diners to each victim, we obtain a total of two million seven hundred thousand, all pure and holy. For those afflicted with leprosy or gonorrhoea, or menstruous women, or persons otherwise defiled were not permitted to partake of this sacrifice, nor yet any foreigners present for worship, and a large number of these assemble from abroad’ (Josephus, Jewish War vi.425). Spiciarich et al. 2017, 112. This paragraph is based on Lernau 2018, 44.

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domesticates) was easily obtained, otherwise game would have been more intensively hunted. Constructing age profiles, via the tooth eruption and wear patterns of the mandibles, is vital for understanding the degree of exploitation of cattle and sheep/goats. The first-century City of David animal bone assemblage is different from those of the City Dump (northern cut). Firstly there is a higher percentage of cattle and a lower percentage of sheep/goat. Secondly, long bone epiphysial fusion data and dental attrition indicate that 50% of the sheep/goats had been killed by three years of age, with a peak age of slaughter at 2.5 years. Thus the City of David deposit centres on mature animals that had reached maximum size, rather than lambs or kids which dominate the City Dump (northern cut) assemblage. Horwitz (1996, 312) has interpreted this as an early Roman subsistence economy centring on the production and consumption of meat. Economically to get maximum return on raising sheep/goats the ideal age to slaughter is between two and three years. Certainly this is the best evidence so far for animals bred for secular meat eating.97 Although only a small sample,98 remains from the Burnt House in Jerusalem, owned most likely by one of the high priests, indicate that sheep/goats were slaughtered at an even younger age, between one and two years of age, which is indicative of the consumption of tender meat.99 However, the bones display chopper marks rather than the neat knife cutting employed on the City Dump bones (northern cut). In addition the household ate domestic chicken (Gallus gallus domesticus), chukar partridge (Alectoris chukar), and gray mullet (Mugil cephalus). Unfortunately, the mammalian faunal assemblage from the Ophel located behind the City of David is far too small to be of use.100 However, birds from the Ophel and City of David sites were amalgamated period wise. In comparison to the Roman period, in the Iron Age (tenth to eighth centuries bce) there was a wider variety of species eaten, including duck, partridge, dove, and Passeriformes, in addition to chicken, goose, and pigeon. The early Roman sample comprises only the domesticated taxa of chicken, goose, and duck.101 Nevertheless, pigeons/doves were 97

98

99 100 101

City of David areas A1 and H (early Roman): Nile perch and tunny identified (Lernau and Lernau 1992 after Horwitz 1996, 305). The former is a high-status fish. Ninety-eight bones in total, with seventy-four identified, of which 77% were sheep/ goats (three identified as sheep and four as goat). Horwitz and Lernau 2010, 290–299. Horwitz and Tchernov 1989. Horwitz 1996, 300.

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an important part of the economy; there are approximately a thousand caves which were used for breeding pigeons in antiquity.102 In addition, many rural sites in Palestine exhibit remains of columbaria (dovecotes). Another urban assemblage of bone was recovered from excavations adjacent to the Temple Mount dating to the first century ce.103 A higher percentage of cattle was identified with a lower percentage of sheep/goat as compared with the aforementioned sites; according to the analysts this was possibly attributable to the recovery of larger bones, thus favouring cattle. Horvat ‘Eleq in the Mount Carmel region of Palestine was an important agricultural estate in the early Roman period (see above). The animal bone assemblage is dominated by cattle bones, which is surprising given that ‘most archaeological sites in Israel are dominated by ovicaprine104 remains’ (Grigson 1995 after Horwitz 2000, 515). The environment of the lush Hanadiv Valley with perennial springs would favour the raising of cattle, but the valley is traditionally an agricultural area and a reasonably sized herd would need extensive pasturage on Mount Carmel, which has a low carrying capacity. Thus, Horwitz (2000, 517; 2006) has suggested that the herd could only be maintained by a wealthy landowner and that the cattle bones ‘may be a reflection of wealth and status rather than of particular environmental or topographical factors’. The cattle were clearly bred for meat, as evidenced by the epiphysial fusion data with nearly 50% of the animals slaughtered between one and two years of age (60% survived beyond 1.5 years of age, just less than 50% survived by two years, while less than 10% remained by adulthood, four years of age).105 This finding fits well with the high socio-economic status of the site (see above). It should also be noted that a ready market would have been provided by the nearby city of Caesarea Maritima.106 A third of the sheep/goat sample from Horvat ‘Eleq comprises goats. The epiphysial fusion data informs that 50% of the sheep/goats survived beyond one year while 30% of the animals survived beyond two years of age. Only 20% survived into maturity, that is 3.5 years or older. Dental attrition scores agree with this and indicate that the majority of sheep/ 102 103 104 105

106

Tepper 1986, after Dar 1996, 332. Reich et al. 2015, 19–34. Sheep/goat. Horwitz 2000, 520. Two fish bones identified to the genus Serranidae were retrieved from Horvat’ Eleq, which points to the status of the owners; these are ‘important edible fish with a high market value’ (Lernau 2000, 527). Reich et al. 2015, 28.

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goats were killed off before maturity. This was a flock that appears to have been exploited for meat. But Horwitz stresses that ‘due to small samples and limited data on adult animals these results should be treated with caution’ (2000, 520–521).107 Although only a small sample of bones was recovered from the village of Sumaqa, cattle form a sizeable part of the Roman–Byzantine assemblage, which again may well be reflective of the environmental conditions of the Mount Carmel region. Moreover the village of Khirbet Burnat in the Shephelah yielded a high proportion of cattle bones. Here mature cattle and sheep/goat bones indicate the agricultural nature of the site where the focus was on secondary products such as milk, wool, and animals used for traction.108 The animal bone assemblage from Bethsaida is dominated by sheep/ goats slaughtered as juveniles and young adults, thus these animals were also being raised for meat. Moreover, the skeletal elements demonstrate that they had been slaughtered and consumed on site. Cattle were slaughtered when no longer of use as draught animals.109 Grantham suggested that there was an increased consumption in meat at Sepphoris during the Roman period, but the samples he bases this on are small and he had to combine the results of two different aging methods for both the cattle and sheep/goats, which underlines that this is a suggestion rather than a conclusion (Grantham 1996, 146 and 148). The village of Yodefat is not far from Sepphoris and the initial results of the Hellenistic–Roman animal bone study demonstrate that the economy was based on sheep rearing for wool and milk (Aviam 2011). Aviam observed that 50% of the land outside the settlement was unsuitable for farming, and hence deduced that it would have been much more suitable as 107

108 109

In other words we need more numerical data relating to this. And also with the settlement of Sumaqa on Mount Carmel Horwitz states, ‘The cattle assemblage at Sumaqa is dominated in all periods by adult animals, though the small sample sizes necessitate caution in referring to these results’ (Horwitz 1990, 298). Moreover, with the City of David excavations she reminds us that they are limited by the relatively small faunal samples of some of the sites and also the hand-picking, ‘consequently all conclusions reached here need to be treated with caution’ (Horwitz 1996, 313–314). I emphasize her words because all too often scholars unfamiliar with zooarchaeological methodology do not qualify their faunal arguments and come to unsubstantiated conclusions. For example, Lev-Tov (2003, 428)  states that ‘some archaeologists such as Horwitz (2000, 517, 520) seem hesitant to accept the idea that mortality patterns may indeed reveal that period diet was more carnivorous than previously suspected’. We need more valid and statistically reliable samples before we can say this. Bouchnick et al. 2006, 16. Fisher 2005, 109–110.

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pasture. Moreover, a surprisingly high number of cisterns were excavated which would have stored ample water supplies. Yodefat is unusual in that it has yielded the largest number of kiln-fired clay loom weights which have ever been discovered in early Roman Palestine (see above). In discussing Palestinian butchery, Carole Cope commented:  ‘the butchering patterns at Gamla and Yodefat are extremely exact. The cuts are perfectly placed to sever origins and insertions of whole groups of muscles as well as arteries and veins’ (Cope 2004, 25). In addition she claimed that the sciatic nerve had been carefully removed, an important part of the butchery process if the meat was to satisfy the requirements of Jewish law.110 Ram Bouchnick (2016, 317) also found that cut marks on caprine bones from the Jerusalem dump (northern cut, see above) were exactly placed, suggesting professional butchers; however, there was no palpable indication that the sciatic nerve had been removed. At Horvat ‘Eleq ‘the butchery damage to the early Roman bones indicated that butchery practices were relatively gross and that in most cases large parcels of meat were reduced by hacking off portions probably with a cleaver’ (Horwitz 2000, 522). This crude and clumsy butchery is strikingly similar to that described by Cope (1999) for the Roman material from Caesarea, indicating that at this time this was the common method of butchery. Furthermore, it allowed large numbers of carcases to be processed swiftly. Pig bones have been recovered from some sites, but always in low numbers and this likely reflects the diverse Judaism practised in the late Second Temple period (see section on pig versus wild boar in chapter 4, p. 100). In conclusion of this section, the high-status site of Horvat ‘Eleq reveals a meat consumption pattern differing from the Middle Eastern norm of lamb/kid, that centring on beef, and the wealth of the owner is further substantiated by the fact that the estate was not ideally suited to the raising of cattle. In Galilee, the Yodefat and Gamla bones are characterized by a stringent Jewish butchery practice which has not been identified at Sepphoris. In Jerusalem, the kill-off pattern for sheep/goats differed between the religious (City Dump, northern cut) and secular (City of David; City Dump, southern cut) assemblages:  much younger animals, in particular lambs, were preferred for Temple slaughter in contrast to older ones from the City of David and Lower City (City Dump, southern cut) clearly raised for mutton; however, the latter were killed 110

Genesis 32:32.

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off at the optimum age for economic return indicating they were raised especially for meat. In contrast to the City Dump and also the large urban assemblages from the Roman north-western provinces, the secular samples in general are small, and therefore only provided limited numbers of mandibles for aging by tooth eruption and wear. Without this information it is difficult to inform on the degree of meat eating by the Palestinian population in general. Notwithstanding, in addition to meat in the form of lamb, mutton, and beef, fish, chicken, and eggs111 were also consumed. Summary There is no longer a clear demarcation between urban and rural settlements in first-century Galilee. Firstly, some villages demonstrate urban characteristics reflected by a variety of building styles and decoration. Such tiered housing was identified at the sites of Gamla, Yodefat, and Khirbet Qana, and this reflects a distinct socio-economic hierarchy. The owners of the larger and more embellished houses belonged to the upper strata of society, comparable to the wealthy sector discovered in the city of Sepphoris; possibly some of the owners may well have been residents of Sepphoris. The Galilean houses were decorated with painted wall plaster imitating the Pompeian second style, and one house revealed skilled masonry; some were sited near olive oil presses and/or flour mills, thus underlining ownership. Secondly, the nature of industries as diverse as olive oil, flour milling, pottery, textiles, and glass clearly argues against the idea of Galileans just being ‘peasant farmers’. There is little evidence at Sepphoris for the finer accoutrements of Graeco-Roman life such as fine wares and wine amphorae. However, Magdala is the pre-eminent city in Galilee in the early Roman period, both by size, the number of civic buildings, and an extensive fishing industry underpinning international trade; it was also home to an elite sector of society, richer than that at Sepphoris and elsewhere in Galilee, as reflected by the size and decoration of the houses. While the material prosperity of Magdala is comparable with Jerusalem, it is at the latter site that Jesus remonstrated against the high priesthood and expressed his concern for the poor. Taking Magdala aside, the level of wealth identified in Galilee is far surpassed by that uncovered in Jerusalem and on Mount Carmel  – in 111

The relative paucity of chicken on sites is undoubtedly due to a collection bias, but their remains are found on all sites (Liora Horwitz, pers. comm.).

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particular the lavish mansions of the priestly aristocracy in the Upper City of Jerusalem and the fortified manor houses at Ramat Hanadiv, owned by the higher echelons of Palestinian and Roman society. Moreover, at the manor house of Horvat ‘Eleq (Ramat Hanadiv) cattle were raised for domestic consumption as tender beef; since the land was not particularly suited to the raising of cattle this is indicative of considerable wealth on the part of the owner. While some beef was consumed at Jerusalem, lamb and mutton were popular fare, together with other sources of protein such as fish, poultry, chicken, and eggs, which would have been supplemented by vegetables and cereals. The Jerusalem dwellings were much larger than those of the Galilean elite, with far superior wall paintings and flooring with exquisite mosaics. Furthermore, the owners enjoyed the full range of decorated tableware available, both local and imported from Italy, Cyprus, and the Phoenician coast. In contrast, several Galilean sites yielded modest dining sets, with a simple serving bowl and a score of small plates plus a jug or two. The substantial Ramat Hanadiv establishments are characterized by their massive towers where treasure could be stored. Evidently considerable valuables were secreted underground in the area of the high priests’ houses in Jerusalem, the silver of which later corroded and by aqueous transport soaked into discarded pottery, only to be identified two thousand years later. Clearly the Upper City priestly quarter and its relationship with the nearby Temple epitomize the centralization of wealth and power that Jesus opposed in first-century Palestine. Local supplies of sheep and goats were not sufficient for the Temple sacrifices, particularly at festival time given the massive influx of Jews to Jerusalem from within and without Palestine, so additional animals were transported from as far away as Transjordan and Arabia. The purchase of sacrificial animals and the use of the service industries by pilgrims generated a huge income for the Jewish aristocracy, especially the high priesthood, who would have been the main overseers of the festival operations.

Connection with Textual Materials of Chapter 1 How is the textual material in chapter 1 (discontent of the masses) both challenged and defended by the archaeological material presented in chapter 6 (living conditions)? The poor you will always have with you … (Mark 14:7; John 12:8)

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The general historical background described in the first part of chapter 1 is reflective of Judea; however, as already stated, given the ancestry shared by Galileans and Judeans and their practising of a common Judaism (see the material remains in chapter 4), it is also a significant part of the heritage of Galilee. The Jewish people had suffered greatly in the past through invasion and oppression, and in the process humiliation. In the early first century, Jesus’ urgent preaching concerning the imminent arrival of the kingdom of God raises questions concerning the social, economic, and political stability in Galilee, questions which are equally applicable to Judea since other individuals including John the Baptist and the Essenes at Qumran had separated from society to await the eschaton. Undoubtedly the textual evidence of chapter 1 is challenged by the archaeological findings of chapter 6 with reference to Galilean living conditions. Jesus’ preaching concerning the coming of a new age where God would reign supreme and the numerous references to his own potential kingship (that of the Messiah), subtly expressed in the Synoptic Gospels, point towards a general air of discontent among the people. Indeed, in the Gospels of Mark and John there are even hints of an uprising in the context of the Feeding of the Five Thousand; here in a remote part of Galilee a large number of men were seeking to make Jesus their leader – their king (Mark 6:45; John 6:15). And this begs the question as to why the people were so discontented. Yet at the same time Galilean settlement patterns indicate growth, stability, and the emergence of wealth. The dissimilarity between these two scenarios can only be properly resolved by examining Galilee in its Palestinian context with specific reference to Jerusalem. As stated in the introduction to this chapter, it is Jerusalem that holds the key to Jesus’ ministry to the poor and its abrupt termination. The degree of discontent identified in pre-industrial societies is in general a measure of the standing of the poor and their ability to find the necessary requisites – not only for everyday living but in order to survive. Jesus’ eschatology went hand in hand with his ethics: to enter the kingdom of God one not only had to be physically whole (see chapter 5, p. 139) but also morally upstanding, especially with regard to caring for the poverty-stricken. This is why a study of Galilean living conditions to pinpoint the socio-economic hierarchy is important for understanding the context of Jesus’ ministry. With respect to owning riches and property, while Jesus portrayed discrepancies in lifestyle between the different Galilean social classes in his parables (landowners, landlords, stewards, servants, and administrators), he never tried to change the social system

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itself.112 Instead he laid emphasis on the individual exercising right behaviour by giving away his/her possessions to help the poor (Mark 10:21; Matthew 19:21; Luke 11:41, 12:33, 18:22, 19:8; John 13:29). But while encouraging right behaviour towards the impoverished was a central concern in Jesus’ eschatological ministry, it is not clear from reading the texts just how prevalent poverty was in Galilee. The poor are largely invisible in the archaeological record due to their paucity of possessions; moreover, there is no standard methodology in archaeology that has been devised to identify and measure poverty.113 Notwithstanding, the archaeological data have provided valuable information concerning standards of living and, importantly, relative wealth across Galilee and Judea. And it is relative wealth that informs, in conjunction with the texts, where the centralization of wealth lay in Palestine – the opulence that Jesus so opposed, as did his counterpart James. In examining standards of living in first-century Galilee we find a system of highly functioning villages, many of which demonstrate aspects of urban life as described in the earlier part of this chapter. The cities of Sepphoris and Tiberias were only in their infancy, as they were largely without public buildings and thus appear more as administrative centres; moderately sized courtyard houses were excavated at Sepphoris but there was no sign of Graeco-Roman mosaics, decorated wall plaster, or indeed fine wares in situ. Moreover, there were no roads between some villages and Sepphoris, for example Nazareth and Khirbet Cana. However, the city of Magdala was only located a few miles south of Capernaum and Bauckham and De Luca (2015, 114–115) have pointed out that ‘the road from Nazareth or Cana to Capernaum, through the Wadi Hamam Valley, must have run right beside the northern entrance to Magdala or even actually through the city’. As described above, excavations at Magdala have demonstrated considerable wealth with regard to housing, extensive public baths, a massive harbour and quay, and a fish processing plant. This area around the north-west shore of the lake of Galilee, and including the plain of Gennesaret, was densely populated at the time of Jesus due to the fertility of the plain and the extensive fishing industry, of which Capernaum would have been a part. And Bauckham and De Luca have suggested this is perhaps why Jesus made Capernaum the main centre for his ministry. 112 113

Hengel 1974, 28. See Charles E. Orser Jr (2011, 537): ‘Archaeologists have yet to develop concrete ways to identify and to understand the material realities of poverty.’

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Galilean villagers cannot be classed simply as peasant farmers. Firstly, there was a distinct social hierarchy reflected by tiered housing and, at the top end of the ranking, Graeco-Roman tastes in architecture and decor. Secondly, a variety of trades have been pinpointed, such as those of pottery, olive oil, flour milling, glass, and textiles, with some of them being on an industrial scale. Apart from a small number of coins minted by Herod Antipas for political reasons, the coinage is dominated by Hasmonean rather than Roman coins, with higher-value Tyrian coinage for larger transactions. However, none of the accoutrements associated with Roman wining and dining have been found in these villages, in contrast to the lavish houses of the upper strata of society in Jerusalem. The village dining services are fairly uniform, plain, and unadorned, with communal serving bowls.114 This indicates that there was not a great disparity in wealth between the upper and lower classes in Galilee, and contrasts strongly with the wealthy Jerusalemites who used a wide range of finequality dining vessels emanating from Italy, Cyprus, and the Phoenician coast, as well as locally made ware. The places Jesus commonly visited in Galilee were the villages, in particular Capernaum, and along the edge of the lake of Galilee. Jesus was also associated with the modest village of Nazareth, which evidently was regarded somewhat unfavourably in the first century ce (John 1:46). Courtyard houses have been found at Nazareth and Capernaum, but there is no evidence of an upper class from the architecture and decor such as at Gamla and Yodefat. Interestingly, Capernaum has an independent association with healers in that Josephus was taken there when wounded to be treated by physicians (Josephus, Life 403–4 after Freyne 2007a, 158). Gamla with an attached miqweh to the synagogue contrasts with Capernaum which has yielded no evidence of a miqweh. But in both Mark and John’s Gospels a synagogue is mentioned as being at Capernaum (John 6:59; Mark 1:21). Some scholars have suggested that Jesus’ Judaism may have been less conservative than somewhere such as Gamla or Yodefat and more challengingly liberal (Charlesworth 2006a, 57; Freyne 2007b, 159). Sean Freyne (2007a, 29) has even suggested that 114

At the Last Supper the disciple who was about to betray Jesus was recognized through the dipping of bread into the communal dish (Mark 14:20; John 13:26), a custom that Andrea Berlin (2005, 442–448) identified in several Galilean villages. Notwithstanding, there is no mention of eating a lamb at this meal, which somewhat belies that this was a Passover meal. This change to communal dining is epitomized by Jesus, and there is some thinking that his flair for telling parables was central to his being invited out (Trocmé 1973, 91, cited by Dunn 2003, 600).

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Gamla and Yodefat could have been centres where the Pharisees lived, and where they confronted Jesus over Judaic issues mentioned in the Gospels such as the ‘food laws, purity regulations, and the Sabbath observance’. If this is true, they held no sway over religious matters in that it was the priesthood at Jerusalem where Jesus raised socio-economic matters, as part of his castigation of the priesthood and their running of the Temple. The opening quotation of this section, identified in both Mark and John, is important as both Gospels link it with the same place, Bethany, where Jesus’ feet were anointed with precious perfume. This was clearly another lowly village he frequented. As described in chapter 5 (p. 144), Bethany was likely the village in Judea where those with skin diseases were sent in the early first century. But there is also evidence that Jesus associated with the rich, as recounted in John, where he turned the water into wine at Cana (John 2:1–11). The stone jars described are those used by Jews to undertake their purity rites, but only the wealthy would have been able to afford such large ones (see Figure 6.5). Here, he also healed, at long distance, the son of an official of the royal household who was sick at Capernaum (John 4:46–50). Certainly, the Gospel texts in no way reflect ‘crushing poverty’ in Galilee.115 Yet, according to the incident after the Feeding of the Five Thousand clearly some Galileans were unhappy. So far no large slave-run estates have been identified in Galilee itself, although there are references to tenant-run farms and vineyards in some of Jesus’ parables.116 Notwithstanding, Jesus would have been aware of such establishments since Nazareth, sited on a ridge, overlooks the Great Plain, where there is considerable archaeological evidence for extensive wine production. There were many large estates in Herodian Palestine running from Idumea to the Great Plain which were in the hands of royalty and the aristocracy. Significantly, the documentary evidence pertaining to economic grievances points towards Judea. Firstly, it is notable that the Gospels only record beggars, indeed blind beggars, in Judea, at the cities of Jericho and Jerusalem (see chapter  5, p.  142). Secondly, Josephus ‘speaks of a universal sickness in Judaea from a.d. 6, which led the rich 115 116

Dunn 2003, 311. Two parables of Jesus describe the position of the tenant farmer in the first century: the parable of the Vineyard (Mark 12:1–4), where at harvest time the owner expects his servants to receive his due share of the fruit from the tenants, and the parable of the Shrewd Manager (Luke 16:1–14), where two farmers were in debt to a rich man to whom they owed considerable amounts of olive oil and wheat. Clearly relations had not been good between the owner and tenants in the first parable.

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to oppress the masses and the masses to plunder the rich’ (after Goodman 1993, 51, citing Jewish War vii.260–261). Thirdly, as pointed out by Bradley Root (2014, 32), in the events leading up to the Jewish rebellion of 66 ce, Josephus117 makes a clear-cut distinction between Judean and Galilean class relations with regard to socio-economic pressures; because the Judean lower classes despised the elite, ‘the rebel leaders frequently had to enact radical economic reforms to placate the poor multitude at the expense of the rich’, while in Galilee there was no sign of a class rift and those lower down the economic scale readily supported their leaders without question. And fourthly, during the first rebellion the debtors’ archive in Jerusalem was razed to the ground. The reason for this Judean discontent centred on the wealthy, the Judean elite, who had been made even richer by gobbling up land acquired in lieu of debts which could not be paid; the debtors had been farmers forced to take out loans to survive bad harvests.118 There is solid evidence in chapter 2 that a large part of the Judean elite comprised the priesthood, who not only owned land but likely increased their finances through the annual Temple tax, which brought in an eyewatering revenue, and the pilgrim industry, a highly lucrative business that had been set in motion by Herod the Great (p. 170). And it was the priesthood that was the target of Jesus’ wrath when he demonstrated in the Temple during the last week of his life, the objects of his concern being the running of the Temple and the predicament of the poor. The priests’ unscrupulous conduct, avarice, and crass disregard of the less fortunate had propelled him into action and on a course that would end in his death. Such bold behaviour not only indicates Jesus’ belief that the eschaton was happening and God was about to intervene, but, importantly, the severe oppression of the poor by the elite. The high priesthood lived in sumptuous mansions overlooking the Temple and the archaeological finds clearly indicate the priests and their families were heavily influenced by Graeco-Roman tastes in architecture, decor, and dining services. Few other sites in Judea or Galilee of firstcentury date have revealed such a display of luxury. Josephus (Jewish War vii.113–115) describes Roman soldiers digging for loot in this area of the city in the aftermath of the rebellion. Indeed, archaeologists have

117

118

Jewish War ii.425–441; iv.183–241, 327, 335–336, 364–365; v.440–441; Jewish Antiquities xx.214. Martin Goodman 1982, 417–427; 1987, 51–75; 2002, 16.

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discovered that a huge amount of silver (most likely coinage) had been buried. The poor are specifically mentioned and comforted in the Lord’s Prayer (see chapter  1, p.  27) and also the Beatitudes (Luke 6:20–21/Matthew 5:3–6). Indeed, in the former, the petitions for bread and forgiveness of debts strongly reflect contemporary socio-economic conditions. And this scenario would appear to have some substance since the liturgical nature of this prayer will hardly have changed over time, and therefore it can be closely associated with Jesus and his Galilean mission. But, according to Josephus (see above), in comparing Galilee and Judea, it would appear that the Judean lower classes were the more oppressed. This elucidates the incident in the Temple where Jesus attacked the chief priests concerning their callous treatment of the poor, which may well partly reflect Judean concerns regarding the confiscation of their lands in lieu of payment of debts. Jesus is remembered as saying ‘the poor you will always have with you’ (Mark 14:7; John 12:8). In any tiered society, in particular a preindustrial one, there will always be the less fortunate, those in need, the impoverished, so I  believe there would have been a considerable number of poor people living in Galilee at the time of Jesus. However, the combined textual and archaeological evidence suggests that, in contrast to those discontented Galileans, it is likely many Judeans were in a worse state. Indeed the aforementioned saying of Jesus was made while he was staying at the village of Bethany in Judea.

Conclusion

Jesus came to the fore in Galilee at a time when there was considerable need for a leader that would act on behalf of the oppressed. This and his proclamation of the imminent arrival of a new era, a kingdom ruled by God, marked a critical juncture in late Second Temple Judaism. Prior to this, there had been a long history of eschatological expectation developing over six hundred years. Having been invaded by Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, and lastly Romans, the Jewish people had suffered humiliation and subjugation, as well as extreme brutality. During this time the nation had expressed its pain, grief, and bitter disappointments through an inspirational literature – a literature which promised that one day their God would restore his people, Israel, and thus inaugurate a new age. Certainly, the Jews took back power in the middle of the second century bce with their short-lived Hasmonean dynasty, but even then there was division within society as sects began to form, for example, the Pharisees, who believed in the physical resurrection of the dead, and the largely aristocratic Sadducees (the priesthood who ran the Temple), who did not, while some Jews completely separated from mainstream Judaism and worship at the Temple, notably the Essenes associated with Qumran. Indeed, late Second Temple Judaism is characterized by such factionalism, and in the early first century ce the teachings of both John the Baptist and Jesus reflect the deep malaise in Jewish society. During the Hasmonean period Jews from Judea had settled in Galilee, earlier pagan influences having been suppressed; thus, the Galilean population shared a common ancestry and heritage with their Judean counterparts. So, despite their distance apart, there is no evidence that there was any basic difference in the Judaism practised by Galilee and 187

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Judea; notably, archaeological investigations have emphasized that whilst there is considerable diversity of expression with respect to the material remains, a common Judaism bound them close together. Artefacts such as imageless Herodian and Hasmonean coins, a lack of figurative oil lamps, and locally made rather than imported pottery reflect this common Judaism linking Galilee and Judea. Furthermore, the menorah depicted on a stone table discovered at the Magdala synagogue demonstrates Galilean allegiance to the Temple, as perhaps do the knife-pared Herodian clay lamps, mainly made in Jerusalem, and possibly symbolizing spiritual light. In addition, the two areas are characterized by the following ethnic indicators: ritual pools (miqwa’ot), stone vessels, and scant pig bones. These archaeological markers further point to the common Judaism practised by Galilee and Judea, a Judaism that united the Jewish nation: allegiance to one God, reverence for the Temple, and an understanding that Israel constituted the chosen people. The indicators were investigated for socioeconomic and halachic reasons in respect of their distribution across sites in Galilee and Judea. Stone vessels and ritual pools were used in order to obey the purity laws. Stone vessels were recovered from all types of site and, with the exception of large vessels purchased by the wealthy, were used by all classes. While there are many more pools in Judea than Galilee, of varying shapes and sizes, this is not down to socio-economics but to choice, reflecting a diverse Judaism. It is evident that pork, albeit in small amounts, was consumed on some Jewish sites, and occasionally other non-kosher foods, such as hyrax and catfish, so the presence of such bones does not always signify a non-Jewish community as originally thought. Possibly, some shortcomings in the food supply may have pressurized Jews into eating pork and other items; moreover, some of the human remains recovered from upper-class tombs show signs of nutritional deficiencies. Nevertheless, the selection of these animals for food again points to a diverse Judaism. But this diverse Judaism is always underpinned by a common Judaism. Clearly, the diversity of expression with regard to the ethnic indicators was leading to a certain degree of tension in society, and this can be seen in Jesus’ table fellowship. Here the Pharisees accuse Jesus of associating with ‘sinners’. Jesus responds by stating he had come to call ‘sinners’, not the ‘righteous’, to repent and turn to God. In contrasting the terms ‘sinners’ and ‘righteous’, he was clearly indicating the factionalism present at the time, where the ‘sinners’ were practising a wider interpretation of Judaism than their accusers, the Pharisees, who maintained a strict adherence to the purity laws. This is well documented in late Second

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Temple literature where the ‘wise’ or ‘righteous’ are often contrasted with ‘sinners’. Jesus’ table fellowship was characterized by its all-inclusive nature, a significant aspect of his ministry. Jesus focused on helping the poor, the sick, and the vulnerable – the outcasts of society. Summarizing the main points of his mission, the Lord’s Prayer was a prayer for the poor with petitions for the kingdom to be manifest, a daily bread supply (recalling the difficulties of obtaining food in first-century Galilee), justice in overcoming trials, steadfastness in confronting adversity, and forgiveness based on one’s forgiveness of others. To enter the kingdom, Jesus encouraged Galileans to turn to God through right conduct, especially loving one’s neighbour as oneself, something not mentioned in Judaic texts outside Leviticus. Forgiving one’s neighbour paved the way for forgiveness by God. Moreover, the fact that the Lord’s Prayer continued into posterity, virtually unchanged, and the high regard it was accorded by early Christians signifies its importance to the post-Easter communities, and underlines the impact Jesus had made on his disciples. Jesus’ apocalyptical and eschatological ministry aimed to ensure not only the moral purity, but the physical and mental wholeness of his followers, so that they could enter the kingdom of God, a kingdom that in his mind was already unfolding, as evidenced by his successful exorcisms. This new kingdom was to be all-inclusive, including the less fortunate, and it contrasted strongly with the views of other groups such as the Pharisees, Sadducees, and the Essenes. Significantly, the physical disorders preventing membership of the Qumran eschatological community are the very ones Jesus attended to as a healer (lameness, paralysis, blindness, deafness, dumbness, and skin diseases). Clearly, Jesus’ healing ability was exceptional: no other individual in the Bible has been credited with so many healings and indeed exorcisms, not even Elijah or Elisha. Furthermore, healing and exorcism accounts feature rarely in Second Temple literature. The physical healings in the Gospels pertain in the main to chronic illness, and sufferers of such conditions would have responded well to a man of authority, who inspired faith in his ability to heal. This relationship between healer and healed is exemplified by the placebo effect, which depends on the belief of the patient in the treatment he/she is being given. This may be in the form of a substance and/or the words spoken by the doctor. Jesus had the rare ability to strengthen minds, thus enabling individuals to cope with and even overcome their afflictions. And it cannot be ruled out that stress may have either promoted or exacerbated some of these conditions. Interestingly,

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the Gospel of John records Jesus curing a case of blindness, by mixing his own saliva with mud before applying it to a blind man’s eyes (John 9:1– 7); this is indicative of folk-healing methods, and it is notable that some local soils and clays have anti-bacterial properties and are used today in therapeutic remedies, for example Dead Sea mud. Jesus was not starting a new religion. Unquestionably he carried out his obligations as a practising Jew in that he visited the Temple, especially during the festivals, and paid the temple tax. With regard to skin diseases, where apparently he was a successful healer, Jesus told those whom he had cured to report to the priests for clearance. So he was well aware of the purity laws and certainly obeyed some of them. However, he did deviate from the Jewish norm by healing on the Sabbath, and he is depicted as being at odds with the Pharisees over this. Another distinguishing feature of Jesus in connection with his healings was his forgiving of sins, which had been preached by John the Baptist in association with his water ritual (baptism). That John and Jesus preached the forgiveness of sin without recourse to the Temple would have brought both men into direct conflict with the Temple authorities, and this almost certainly provided additional reasons for their deaths. These alternatives to the Temple ritual would have been especially important for the poor, given their limited means with regard to purchasing sin offerings. The Gospels state that Jesus was followed by large numbers of people seeking relief from their illnesses, both physical and mental, and those of their families and friends. One of the likely reasons that Jesus was executed was the fact that he attracted massive crowds. John the Baptist had commanded a large following but, according to Josephus, Herod Antipas had had him beheaded because he was fearful of his influence over the people. Crowd control in that fateful week of Passover, when pilgrims flooded Jerusalem, would have been of the utmost importance to the high priest, and also to the Roman prefect. Moreover, Jesus was executed as King of the Jews, a title that implies an individual with a substantial following, a leader that could, in the eyes of the ruling elite, threaten the stability of the political and religious administration. And Jesus’ preaching had clear political implications: he preached the imminent advent of a ‘new’ kingdom and frequently warned of judgement to come. The Gospels of Mark and John clearly describe an incident after the Feeding of the Five Thousand, wherein a large number of discontented men were intent on making Jesus their leader, indeed their king. But, as

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a Galilean, Jesus was not promoting a separatist movement. Evidently he rapidly dispersed the crowds, and he himself retired to a quiet place. The Gospel texts recall him seeking remote places to pray, and the image depicted is that of a man of quietude – unless of course something particularly exasperated and angered him, such as the refusal of the Galilean villagers to understand his message, and the chief priests’ maladministration in running the Temple. The villagers appeared more concerned about Jesus’ miraculous healings than about the impending advent of the new kingdom. Shortly after castigating the villagers and threatening a terrible judgement, it is apparent that many men deserted his cause, which again shows that he was not the militant leader they sought. Jesus was a man of peace, not violence, as indicated by the important fact that out of all his movement only he was arrested and executed; his disciples were not even incarcerated or held to account, and in the aftermath of his death they were able to stay in Jerusalem and attend the Temple. But, with respect to Jesus, this invites the question as to why the people were looking for a leader in the first place. Clearly this was not about health issues. The archaeological picture of first-century Galilee does not suggest an area under stress, but rather a thriving society. The Galilean region comprised mainly villages, although the size, amenities, and in some cases the public buildings are indicative of a more urban character. The villagers were engaged in farming and also other industries such as pottery, olive oil, glass, flour, and textiles, some on an industrial scale. A distinct social hierarchy is identified mainly through the tiered housing, with the emergence of an elite sector. The houses of the elite, for example at Gamla and Yodefat, compare well with regard to Hellenistic architecture and decor, decor of a standard comparable with some Herodian palaces. Similar wall frescoes to those at Yodefat and Gamla were found on the western summit at Sepphoris, but do not date to the early Roman period; most of the archaeological remains here pertain to the second century or later. Indeed, it would appear that the infrastructures of both Sepphoris and Tiberias had scarcely been developed by the early first century. This was not an egalitarian society. Land and the various commercial enterprises would have belonged to the more wealthy individuals living in the villages, those espousing Graeco-Roman tastes, with maybe some connection to the Jewish aristocracy living in the cities of Sepphoris, Tiberias, or even Magdala. What is more, Herod Antipas and his entourage would certainly have had some stake in what was produced. And those lower down the social scale would have served those higher up. Regarding wealth and property, in his parables Jesus certainly described

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a tiered Galilean society comprising landowners, landlords, stewards, servants, and administrators. However, the material remains suggest that the gap between the lower and upper classes was not as wide as that in Judea. The archaeological remains do not allow us to comment on the degree of hardship experienced by the villagers, and indeed those living in Sepphoris and Tiberias, since we have little information concerning human remains. Jesus’ name is associated with the more modest settlements of Bethsaida, Nazareth, and particularly Capernaum. It was at Capernaum and along the lake edge that he based his ministry, and it is significant that Josephus mentions that this area was closely associated with healers/ doctors in the early first century ce. Jesus originated from Nazareth, a lowly village, situated close to Sepphoris; somewhat isolated, there are no known roads running between it and this city. Graeco-Roman culture did not reach Nazareth, and is only apparent in the larger villages, such as Yodefat and Gamla. Jesus is also linked with Bethany, a village located just outside Jerusalem, which may have been the place mentioned in the Dead Sea Scrolls where those with skin diseases were encouraged to live. Nonetheless, Jesus certainly mixed with affluent individuals, as for example when he visited a rich householder at Cana, where he famously turned the water into wine. Plainly, Jesus avoided Galilean cities such as Sepphoris, Tiberias, and Magdala. Thus, it is noteworthy that the Feeding of the Five Thousand possibly took place near Bethsaida in the territory of the tetrarch Philip, rather than that of Herod Antipas, who was described by Jesus as having the characteristics of a fox (Luke 13:32). This underlines the size of his following. In an urban environment such a large crowd would have drawn the immediate attention of the Herodian authorities, who would have swiftly arrested him. Recent discoveries at the city of Magdala show that this was the preeminent city at the time, having steadily developed since the Hasmonean period, and as well as having impressive public buildings, such as a synagogue and public baths, it has also revealed impressive mansions and a major fish-processing plant. However, Magdala, at the centre of a number of major trade routes, appears to link more with the Decapolis and the Mediterranean east coast, in view of its Graeco-Roman bathing facilities, architecture, and decor, than with the rest of Galilee. Jerusalem was a different case: this was the focal point of the Jewish religion where the Temple constituted God’s house and dwelling place. And Jesus had close links with it through the nearby village of Bethany.

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Another reason Jesus may have avoided cities is that they are fertile breeding grounds for the spread of highly infectious and deadly diseases. Tuberculosis (in association with leprosy) has been identified in a highclass man, possibly a priest, at Jerusalem. The incidence of tuberculosis is often associated with inadequate nutrition, and some of the skeletal remains from the tombs show signs of poor maternal health, again among the upper class. While the leprosy bacillus takes years to develop and is only mildly contagious, that of tuberculosis is highly contagious, and in a crowded city would have made a significant impact. Furthermore, contracting both infections would certainly make the tubercular one swift acting and deadly. Although both diseases have long been associated with the poor, these results demonstrate that the upper classes in first-century Palestine were equally vulnerable. So with a low life expectancy at birth, typical of early agricultural societies, and death ever-present through infectious disease, and on occasion inadequate sustenance, a healer such as Jesus would have been in high demand, the more so since it is evident that there were few people of this calibre around. Malaria has only been identified through textual sources. Josephus clearly refers to the less lethal form, P. malariae. There is an indication that the official’s son described in John’s Gospel, whom Jesus healed, was suffering from the disease; the fever and the expectation of death would suggest this. However, one would expect that, if malaria had been as problematic in Palestine as in parts of Roman Italy, the contemporary Jewish historian Josephus would have described more incidents. Although there appears a difference between Galilee and Judea with regard to burial practices, in that so far no ossuaries have been recovered from first-century (pre-70 ce) tombs in Galilee, this may not hold true. What is being observed may simply be the trickle-down effect of new customs being transmitted from the Judean elite to the Galilean upper classes. Additionally, there are difficulties in dating the tombs with respect to differentiating between the first and second centuries. This form of secondary burial in stone-carved receptacles was the mode of burial of the wealthy, and was in accordance with contemporary Roman burial customs, as it used funerary urns (cineraria). In the Judean stone quarries outside Jerusalem, waste from both the stone vessel and ossuary industries has been found. But this is not the case with respect to the Galilean quarries, where only waste from stone vessels has been retrieved. Socioeconomic factors do not account for this disparity, since Galilee was on a strong growth curve, with stone being quarried on a large scale to supply a flourishing stone-carving industry.

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Some illumination on this matter is provided by the tableware. Plain simple ware, locally made in stone and pottery, was utilized by the Galilean villagers (for example at Gamla, Bethsaida, Capernaum, and Yodefat), as opposed to the more elaborate table settings enjoyed by the wealthy Jerusalemites, with much of it imported from Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Italy. The set for each Galilean household is characterized by many small bowls, a couple of jugs, and one large serving bowl, the latter signifying shared meals, perhaps reminiscent of the Last Supper. I  believe that this display of Jewish identity and self-sufficiency could also account for the slower acceptance of ossuaries. The rich Jerusalem priests had readily adopted the use of ossuaries and sophisticated Mediterranean table settings towards the end of the first century bce, and, given their bad reputation, this may well have been another reason why Galileans appear to have been reluctant in adopting them. This is true for the Essenes at Qumran, who despised the Sadducean priesthood, and in any case buried members of their sect in carefully demarcated trench graves in the manner of the poor. Generally, the poorer people would have been buried in trench graves, both in Judea and Galilee. Apart from a number of shaft (trench) graves excavated in south-western Jerusalem, there is scant evidence for these burial sites or their associated human bones, which would give valuable information concerning health, diet, and longevity. Hence, the poor are mainly invisible in the archaeological record, and we are heavily reliant on the documentary evidence. Conversely, the rich are more easily identifiable through their material remains, which have revealed where the centralization of wealth lay in Palestine. A large number of ritual pools (miqwa’ot) and stone vessels have been identified in the excavations of the Upper City in Jerusalem, indicating that this was where the chief priests lived. Moreover, additional evidence is provided by an Aramaic inscription on a stone weight recovered from one of the houses, the Burnt House, which mentions the ‘House of Kathros’, one of the families of high priests who were known to have been in residence at the time of the Roman prefect Pilate. The priests’ standard of living was stunning. Overlooking the Temple Mount, the remains of large and lavish mansions, decorated with exquisite Roman wall paintings and mosaics, demonstrate immense wealth. First-century ce pottery sherds were excavated from this area, and subsequent analysis found that they were heavily impregnated with silver. In the aftermath of the Jewish War in 70 ce, Josephus describes Roman soldiers digging for valuables hidden in the ground; it would appear that these Jews had

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buried personal items of silver, and, over many centuries, their discarded pottery had taken up the corroded silver in groundwater via aqueous transport. The last week of Jesus’ life, especially his demonstration in the Temple, is key to understanding the man and his mission: Jesus stopped commercial activity in the outer court of the Gentiles by overturning the tables of the moneylenders and the benches of the sellers of doves (the poor person’s sacrifice), and prevented the area being used as an access route. Here he acted as a leader powerfully challenging the behaviour of the chief priests and their running of the Temple. His actions in the Temple, recorded by all four Gospels, indicate his anger and frustration. In comparing the versions of Mark and John, it is clear that these accounts contain clues to earlier oral versions, likely originating with Jesus. But it is Jesus’ sayings, recalling the laments and admonishments of Jeremiah, and also Isaiah, protesting against the priests of their day, several hundred years earlier, which are important for comprehending the objects of his anger – the chief priests. The Old Testament citations in Mark and John concern corrupt behaviour and financial impropriety. Thus the Temple appears to have been run as a commercial operation to benefit the rich and oppress the poor. This criticism of the priesthood is further supported by the Parable of the Tenants and the citation following it, and there is good evidence, from the Targum of Isaiah and one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, supporting their contemporaneity with Jesus. Moreover, Jesus’ antipathy towards the priests’ running of the Temple is recorded in all four Gospels, in a number of pericopes relating to its imminent destruction, seen as the inevitable judgement of God on Israel. Current evidence suggests that the annual half-shekel Temple tax was likely introduced in the early Roman period. Textual data also suggest that the chief priests were extremely rich, being among the principal landowners at that time, and they would also have been among the main money lenders. This is where the true wealth lay in Palestine. The priests had grown rich through their inherited land holdings, which they managed to increase in size through the misfortune of some farmers. Such vulnerable individuals were forced to take out loans in order to survive poor harvests and, often unable to pay back the money, were forced to sell their land to their lenders, the Judean aristocracy, which included the chief priests. Josephus states that, from as early as 6 ce, problems had arisen between the upper and lower classes in Judea, with the rich oppressing the poor and the poor retaliating. In 66 ce, the debtors’ archive was set on fire and destroyed in the first uprising of the Jewish

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War, because it represented a vehicle whereby the rich became richer and the poor poorer. The hatred towards officialdom reflects the dire straits that some Jews had found themselves in, having had to borrow money in order to be able to survive. In addition, the revenue generated annually by pilgrims attending the major pilgrim festivals at the Temple was a principal source of income. The revenue had been reaped from the service industries that had been set up by Herod the Great, but it was the chief priests who would eventually benefit from this lucrative business. So, despite having spent so much time in Galilee, Jesus was acutely aware of the priests’ mismanagement of the Temple, their greed, unscrupulous behaviour, and exploitation of the poor; this suggests that he kept closely in touch with current affairs in Jerusalem. Moreover, according to all the Gospels, Jesus frequently stayed at the nearby village of Bethany when he visited Jerusalem. To speak out against the priesthood in public was dangerous. The chief priests would have bitterly resented any criticism of their religious administration, let  alone their own personal deficiencies. And they moved quickly in conjunction with the Roman prefect to eliminate their perceived enemy – the leader of the people – the King of the Jews. But Jesus was working to a purpose and a plan, and what gave him the courage to speak out was the conviction that God was imminently going to act – that the kingdom of God had arrived. Justice would be done. It is hardly coincidental that both Jesus and his brother James spoke out against the priesthood in Jerusalem, and that they were both sent to their deaths by the high priests of their time. Jesus was patently a charismatic leader, as shown by the discontented masses who sought his help and tried to make him king in Galilee after the Feeding of the Five Thousand, and he was put to death as a king, albeit as a pretender in Judea. Undeniably, he had a consciousness of his kingship, of being the Messiah, a liberator of the people heralding judgement for the oppressors and justice for the poor. That the Greek word for Messiah, Christos, was in use twenty or so years after the crucifixion shows the remarkable impact that he made on his disciples before Easter. With the use of textual evidence, Jesus’ mission as leader and liberator becomes more comprehensible within the context of the times, as also reflected by the archaeological data: to challenge those in authority, the rich, and especially the chief priests, and confront them with their moral shortcomings, commercialization of the Temple, and callous behaviour towards the needy; to care for those on the fringes of society, the sick and the poor; and to prepare them and the repentant for the imminent

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coming of the kingdom of God. Jesus concentrated on serving the poor in Galilee, particularly in the less affluent areas. Josephus, comparing and contrasting the circumstances of the Galilean and Judean classes leading up to the Jewish War, suggests that it was the Judean masses who were worse off rather than those of Galilee. In other words, there was a greater animosity between the rich and the poor in Judea. Indeed, the archaeological evidence demonstrates that it was in Jerusalem where Palestinian wealth was centralized. In the aftermath of the crucifixion, Jesus’ ministering to the needy was carried on by his disciples – significantly in Jerusalem. His brother James became head of the church there, and in the canonical Letter of James is recollected as severely reprimanding the rich for their avarice. He even persuaded Paul to collect money from rich Gentile believers for the Jerusalem poor. The wisdom teaching of James recalls that of Jesus with its use of aphorisms and similitudes. And the tradition of prayer that Jesus taught was adhered to by James, and by his other disciples and followers. His healing ministry was also carried on in the early church by Peter and Paul in conjunction with the love command that he taught – to love one’s neighbour. Certainly, there was considerable discontent in early first-century Palestine. While the Galilean lower classes were not as hard-pressed as those of Judea, nevertheless there was a demand for a leader that would alleviate the suffering of the poor. Fired by a deep spiritual relationship with his Father, and in undertaking his eschatological ministry, Jesus felt compassion for the people and responded to their needs. But, in so doing, he became embroiled in a head-on clash with the priesthood and the Roman authorities, which ended in his torture and death. By acting with compassion, courage, authority, and integrity, Jesus the Jew made an impact of such a magnitude that it was to resonate down through the centuries to the present day.

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Index

Acts, Book of, 5, 71, 74 Adan-Bayewitz, D., 85, 103, 162 Adler, Y., 79, 80 Akeldama tombs, 131, 132, 134, 138, see also Tomb of the Shroud Allison, D. C., 67 anaemia, 123–124 Ananus, 49–50 apocalyptic literature, 13, 23 Archelaus, 13, 35, 47 Arnold, B. T., 30 Asclepeion, 111–112 Ashton, J., 65, 67 Assyrian conquest, 10 Atlit Yam, Israel, 119, 123 Aviam, M., 77–78, 85, 90n47, 97, 98, 103, 108, 147n10, 153, 166n55, 168, 177 Avigad, N., 83, 84, 89, 158, 160, 161 Babylonian Empire, 11 baptism, 15, 58–59 Jesus, 65 John the Baptist, 15, 58 Bar-Oz, G., 170n82, 171, 172n87, 173 Bauckham, R., 46, 71–72, 169, 182 Berlin, A. M., 86, 88–89, 90, 102, 103, 157–158, 183n114 Bethany, Judea, 109, 138, 144, 184, 192 Bethesda Pool (Sheep’s Pool), 109, 110–112, 113 Bethsaida, Gaulanitis, 101, 157, 158, 192 meat, 177 Betz, O., 20

Bisel, S. C., 172 blindness, 142, 190 Bond, H. K., 19, 28, 35n9, 38, 56, 60, 112nn94–95, 139n81, 140n85 Borg, M. J., 17, 56 Broshi, M., 170n83 Brown, R. E., 24 Bruce, P., 142 Caesarea Maritima, Judea, 154 Caiaphas, 20, 21, 51, 52, 98 tomb of, 129, 133, 137 Capernaum, Galilee, 79, 156, 157, 158, 169, 182, 183, 192 Chancey, M. A., 10n4, 46, 77, 81, 85, 87n38, 88, 94, 95, 98, 145, 154, 155 Charlesworth, J. H., 2n1, 3, 32–33, 41, 91nn52–53, 112, 168, 183 chief priests, 44, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, 56, 169, 195, 196 Chilton, B. D., 23 Cohen, S., 30 Collins, J. J., 13n13, 29 cisterns, 124–125, 127 Cleansing of the Temple, 37–39, 40, 51, 104, 195 coinage, 166–167, 183 Cope, C. R., 178 crucifixion, 135–136 Dark, K., 125, 157, 166 Deines, R., 55n6

243

244

Index

De Luca, S., 169, 182 Dead Sea Scrolls (DSS), 5, 16, 20, 39, 41, 42, 45, 52, 139, 140, 144, 192 decapitations, 134–135 discipleship, 24 diseases, 1, 59, 114–115, 124–125, 137–139, 144, 193 DSS, see Dead Sea Scrolls (DSS). Dunn, J. D. G., 3n7, 4, 13n13, 14, 16, 17, 19, 20, 23, 26, 28n71, 29, 38, 43, 48nn39–40, 49, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60n22, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 68, 69, 72, 73, 183n114 Duprez, A., 112 early church, 2, 28, 74, 197 Eastern Terra Sigillata pottery, see ETSA (Eastern Terra Sigillata pottery) Elisha, 18, 111 eschatology, 9, 12, 14–15, 22–24, 29–30 eschaton (end time), 9, 11, 14–15, 23, 26, 28 ethnic indicators, 1, 77–78, 103, 188, see also miqwa’ot; ossuaries; pig bones; stone vessels ETSA (Eastern Terra Sigillata pottery), 102, 103, 104 Evans, C. A., 2n1, 4, 9n1, 21, 37, 38–39, 40n16, 41nn17–19, 98n72, 135 Eve, E., 18, 60, 143n98 executions, 134–136 exorcisms, 18, 26, 54, 60, 66, 69, 144, 189 Feeding of the Five Thousand, 17–19, 22, 28, 30, 181, 184, 190, 192 Fiensy, D. A., 47, 164, 165 Fine, S., 92, 94, 95, 96 fish, 166–167, 174 forgiveness of sins, 15, 36, 61, 190 Freyne, S., 147, 183–184 Galen (Greek physician), 121, 123 Galilee, 1, 10, 28, 145–147, 149–158, 169, 179–180, 181–184, 186, 191–192 housing, 150–157, 179 public buildings, 154–155 Galor, K., 82 Gamla, Gaulanitis, 85, 86, 102, 103, 149, 150, 151, 155, 157, 158, 183, 184 housing, 151, 153, 179, 183, 191

meat, 178 miqwa’ot, 79, 82, 168–169 gastrointestinal diseases, 124–125 Gibson, S., 88, 90, 98, 109, 110, 111, 113 Tomb of the Shroud, 115, 117 Goliath Tomb, Jericho, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133 Goodman, M., 27, 34, 46–47, 94, 170, 185n118 Grantham, B. J., 101, 177 Grmek, M. D., 118, 120 Guri-Rimon, O., 92 Hägerland, T., 61 Hartman, G., 173 Hasmonean dynasty, 12, 187 Hays, R. B., 40 Herod Antipas, 13, 19, 21, 146, 150, 166, 190, 191, 192 Herod the Great, 13, 35, 47, 134, 154, 170, 185 high priests, 20n40, 35, 39, 50, 52, 170, 185 Hirschfeld, Y., 152, 163, 164 Hollenbach, P. W., 26n63 Hooker, M. D., 20n43, 40, 59, 69 Horsley, R. A., 26n63, 45, 145 Horvat Aqav, Mount Carmel, 163, 164 Horvat ‘Eleq, Mount Carmel, 163–164 malaria, 122 meat, 176–177, 178, 180 pig bones, 101 Horwitz, L. K., 101nn81–82, 102, 171, 175, 176, 177, 178 household Judaism, 102–103 housing, 183 Galilee, 152–154, 155, 156–157, 179 Gamla, 151, 153, 179, 183, 191 Jerusalem, 158, 160, 179, 180 Sepphoris, 153–154, 179, 182, 191 Yodefat, 151, 152, 153, 179, 183, 191 individuation, 95–96 infectious diseases, see diseases Isaiah, 16, 38, 39, 41–42, 52, 109 James, Letter of, 5, 48–49, 71–73, 74, 197 Jensen, M. H., 102, 134, 145, 146, 166 Jeremiah, 38, 39, 40, 51, 109

Index Jerusalem, 158, 160–163, 170, 181 housing, 158, 160, 179, 180 meat, 172–174, 175–176, 178, 180 Jerusalem tombs, 92, 97, 127–128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 138 Jesus, 1–4, 5, 36, 44, 45, 53–55, 59–60, 68–69, 74, 197 arrest, 19–21, 50, 51 baptism, 65 Cleansing of the Temple, 37–39, 40, 51, 104, 195 exorcisms, 18, 26, 54, 60, 66, 69, 144, 189 forgiveness of sins, 61, 190 healing ministry, 54, 60–61, 62, 137–138, 139–144, 189–190 Judaism, 106–107, 190 judgement, 28–29, 36 kingdom of God, 10, 22–24, 26, 27, 29–31, 36, 60, 69, 73–74, 107, 139–140, 181, 187, 189, 191, 196 Lord’s Prayer, 24–25, 26–28, 30, 31, 61, 73, 186, 189 love command, 62–63, 74 ministry, 181–182, 189, 190, 196–197 parable of Wicked Tenants, 40–43 prayer, 63–64, 66, 69, 70, 74 teachings, 70, 72, 74 temptations, 65, 66 Transfiguration, 66–68 Jewish nation, 11–13, 31, 55–56, 181, 187–188 Jewish Quarter, Jerusalem, 158, 160–163 Jewish rebellion, 13, 135, 150, 185 John the Baptist, 15–16, 44, 45, 50, 59–60, 190 baptism, 15, 58 forgiveness of sins, 15, 36, 58, 190 judgement, 29, 36 kingdom of God, 9, 36 John, Gospel of, 3, 4, 70, 112–113 Bethesda Pool, 110, 111, 112, 113 Cleansing of the Temple, 37, 38, 39, 40, 51, 104, 195 Feeding of the Five Thousand, 17, 18, 19, 22, 181, 190 healing miracles, 142, 144, 190 Jesus’ arrest, 19, 20, 50 kingdom of God, 24 love command, 62 prayer, 64

245

Johnson, L. T., 3, 4n10 Johnston, W. D., 120 Josephus, 15n22, 18n38, 42n20, 44n23, 65, 96n67, 151, 155, 183, 184–185, 186, 195, 197 forgiveness of sins, 58 Jerusalem Temple, 33, 35, 43 Jewish rebellion, 13, 135, 150, 185 malaria, 121, 136, 193 priesthood, 39 Judaism, 14–15 common Judaism, 55, 86, 103, 105, 106–107, 108, 188 diverse Judaism, 55, 86, 103–104, 105, 106–107, 188 factionalism, 55–56 household Judaism, 102–103 Judea, 1, 10, 13, 27, 35–36, 158–164, 181, 184–185, 186 Khirbet Qana, Galilee, 150, 156, 166, 169, 179 kingdom of God, 10, 22–24, 26, 28, 29–31, 36, 60, 73–74, 107 Klawans, J., 39, 44, 48 Kloppenborg, J. S., 85, 87 Lang, G., 49 Leibner, U., 155 leprosy, 1, 59, 61–62, 115, 116–119, 120, 123, 126, 136, 138, 139, 144, 193 Levine, L. I., 93 Lev-Tov, J., 102, 170n82 life expectancy, 127 Luke, Gospel of, 3, 36, 70, 71 Feeding of the Five Thousand, 19 healing miracles, 143 Lord’s Prayer, 24, 25, 26 prayer, 63, 70, 71 Magdala (Migdal; Taricheae), Galilee, 80, 85, 150, 155, 166–167, 169, 179, 182, 191, 192 Magen, Y., 88, 89 Magness, J., 9n3, 15n21, 62, 79n9, 92, 94, 96, 97n69, 98, 99n71, 108, 111, 125n42, 137, 139–140, 160n45, 163–164 malaria, 114–115, 120–123, 127, 136, 193 Manson,T., 17n32, 24, 26

246

Index

Mark, Gospel of, 3, 4, 36–37, 104 Cleansing of the Temple, 38, 39, 40, 51, 104, 195 Feeding of the Five Thousand, 17, 18, 19, 22, 181, 190 Jesus’ arrest, 19, 20, 50 prayer, 63, 71 teachings, 70 Wicked Tenants parable, 40, 42–43, 51–52 Masterman, E. W. G., 120, 124, 130n64, 142 Matthew, Gospel of, 3, 36 Lord’s Prayer, 24, 25, 26 prayer, 70, 71 Transfiguration, 67 Mattila, S. L., 146, 152n19, 156 McCane, B. R., 94, 95, 96, 98 McCollough, C. T., 96n68, 122n30, 156, 169 Meggitt, J. J., 16n25, 141n89 Meier, J. P., 26n63, 39, 54n4 meat, 170–179, 180, 188 Meiron tomb, Galilee, 130, 131, 133, 134, 138 Messiah, 14–15, 16, 19, 20–22, 196 Meyers, E. M., 81, 91n49, 153, 154 Migdal, Galilee, see Magdala (Migdal; Taricheae), Galilee Millar, F., 164 miqwa’ot (stepped pools), 78–85, 86, 103, 104, 105, 106, 109, 111, 124, 194, see also Bethesda Pool; Siloam Pool Moreland, M., 78, 146, 167n67 Mount Scopus tombs, 134

Philip, 13, 19, 150 pig bones, 100–102, 104, 178, 188 Pilate, 21 pottery production, 168 poverty, poor, 1, 27, 30, 48, 49, 52, 54, 147, 181–182 prayer, 44, 48, 63–64, 66, 71, 73, 74, 197 priesthood, 38–40, 52, 138, 185–186, 194–195, 196 chief priests, 44, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, 56, 169, 195, 196 high priests, 35, 39, 50, 52, 170, 185 Psalms of Solomon, 12–13, 15, 55 public buildings, 154–155 purity laws, 55, 56–57, 78, 80, 86–87, 104, 105–106, 125, 188 purity rituals, 58–59, 77–78, 88, 105–106 Qumran community, 9, 15, 45, 50, 93, 108, 187, 194 Rule of the Congregation, 139

ossuaries, 78, 88, 91–98, 100, 103, 105, 107–108, 127–128, 193, 194

Rahmani, L. Y., 88, 92, 93, 96, 97 Ramat Hanadiv, Mount Carmel, 163–164, 180 Ratzinger, J., 27 Reed, J. L., 78, 81–82, 88, 95n66, 101, 114, 122, 146, 151n14, 153, 157 Regev, E., 83, 84–85, 94, 96 Reich, R., 78, 80, 83, 84n26, 85n28, 109, 110, 125n45, 171, 172 resurrection beliefs, 92, 108, 187 Richardson, P., 102, 147n10, 152, 154n31, 167n69 Roman Empire, 10, 11, 12–13, 31 Root, B. W., 185 Rosen, B., 121, 122 Royal Messiah, 14–15, 19, 20–21 rubbish disposal, 125–126 Rule of the Congregation, 139

Pagels, E. H., 3 parable of the Tenants, see Wicked Tenants, parable of Paul, 36, 49, 65, 71, 73, 197 Lord’s Prayer, 28 love command, 62–63 Peleg, Y., 95 Persian Empire, 10, 11 Pharisees, 55, 56, 57, 184, 188 resurrection beliefs, 92, 187

Sallares, R., 120n24, 121, 123n32 Sanders, E. P., 35n8, 37, 38, 40, 43–44, 45n26, 50, 51, 55, 57, 58n15, 59n16 Scheidel, W., 123, 127, 131 Schweitzer, A., 23, 29 Seleucid Dynasty, 11 Sepphoris, Galilee, 13, 89, 122, 150, 155, 157, 166, 169, 182 housing, 153–154, 179, 182, 191 meat, 177, 178

natural healing remedies, 142–143 nature miracles, 17–19 Nazareth, Galilee, 156, 157, 166, 183, 192

Index miqwa’ot, 79, 80–81, 82 pig bones, 101 public buildings, 154 sickle-cell anaemia, 123 Siloam Pool, 110, 111, 113 sinners, 55–56, 59, 61, 188–189 Smith, M., 67 Son of God, 68–69 Song of the Vineyard, 41–42, 52 Stanton, G., 16, 23, 24, 26, 61, 69 stepped pools, see miqwa’ot Stern, M., 47 stone vessels, 77, 86–91, 104, 105–106, 188, 193–194 storage jars, 168 Syon, D., 97, 157 Tan, K. H., 44 tapeworms, 126, 127, 136 Taricheae, Galilee, see Magdala (Migdal; Taricheae), Galilee Tel Michal, Israel, 172 Temple, 11, 12, 13, 20, 32–35, 36, 40, 46 Temple tax, 35, 44–46, 195 temples, 47–48 thalassaemia, 123 Theissen, G., 141 Thomas, C. M., 93 Tiberias, Galilee, 150, 154–155, 166, 182, 191 toilets, 125 Tomb of the Shroud, 115–117, 118, 126 tombs, 92, 96–97, 98–100, 103, 108, 127, 128–130, 131–134, 193

247

Toynbee, J., 93 trade, industry, 166, 167, 168–169 tuberculosis, 59, 115, 116, 118, 119–120, 123, 126–127, 136, 138, 193 Vermes, G., 9, 39n14, 68 violence, 134–136, 137 Walker, P. L., 124 Wardle, T., 37, 39, 42 Wassen, C., 105, 106 water rites, see purity laws; purity rituals. wealth, 47, 52, 147, 164, 165, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 191–192, 194–196, 197 Weiss, Z., 97 Wicked Tenants, parable of, 40, 41–43, 51–52, 195 Witherington, B., 70 Wright, B. G., 83 Wright, N. T., 15n23, 92 Yodefat, Galilee, 85, 103, 149, 150, 151, 157, 158, 168, 169, 184 housing, 151, 152, 153, 179, 183, 191 meat, 177–178 miqwa’ot, 79, 82 Zangenberg, J. K., 78, 86, 146, 154 Zias, J., 116n6, 117, 119, 126, 128, 132, 134, 135, 136