[ p. 179 ]
THE tragedy was now hastening to its end. The panic-stricken disciples had fled. Jesus was under arrest, and before another day began he would be dead —and, the leaders felt sure, forgotten—“dead and done for.”
In order to make clear what happened on the first Good Friday it will be necessary to explain something of the law in force at Jerusalem. Southwestern Palestine—Judea—was a minor Roman “imperial” province, under the governorship of an officer called a procurator, one Pontius Pilatus. All criminal charges which might involve the death penalty were tried by him and by him alone. The Romans, however, utilized existing provincial institutions as far as possible, allowing considerable powers to native judicial bodies, both in civil and in minor criminal affairs. Even in capital cases local courts were permitted to conduct preliminary investigations, and to appear as prosecutors in trials before the Roman governors; combining in this way (as it were) the functions of modern grand juries and district attorneys.
The Jews had—however unwillingly—acquiesced in this arrangement. The proceedings against Jesus in the Sanhedrin were consequently equivalent to a [ p. 180 ] modern grand jury investigation, and the vote, “he is worthy of death,” corresponded to our modern way of “finding” or “returning” a true bill of indictment. The procedure in finding this bill, however, was quite different from modern practice. Unlike modern grand juries, the Sanhedrin always called the prisoner before it. Then the charge was stated by some member of the body, who acted as prosecutor. Next, witnesses were called to make out a prima facie case, and at least two witnesses must agree in testifying to the crime alleged. If such witnesses could not be found, the case was at once dismissed. If the witnesses appeared, the prisoner was then—and not until then—asked to plead. If he pleaded “Not guilty,” he immediately presented his defense, calling such witnesses as he could summon. The prosecution followed in rebuttal, and finally—without summing-up speeches, apparently —the vote of the court was taken. If a good majority —a bare majority was insufficient—voted that the death sentence was deserved, a committee was appointed to carry the case before Pilate. [1]
When Jesus was arrested he was brought to the High Priest’s house, and messengers were sent out to summon the members of the Sanhedrin. While waiting for them to assemble, Jesus was taken before the [ p. 181 ] High Priest’s father-in-law, a very old man named Annas. He himself had held the high priesthood many years before, and continued to be actively influential as a “power behind the throne.” Four of his sons had occupied the sacred office at various times; this speaks in loud words of the political astuteness of the family, if not of their corrupt connections with the civil power.
Curious to see what this perverse new teacher was like, Annas sent for Jesus. It was here that Peter’s denial occurred. The disciples had all fled; but Peter and the unnamed disciple, after a while, plucked up courage to follow the crowd. Because the latter was known in the High Priest’s house, the young girl who acted as a servant at the porter’s gate allowed both to enter the palace. The denial was as impulsive as were all Peter’s acts. “Surely you are one of this man’s disciples, are you not?” This innocent question of the girl caught him unawares and he blurted out a denial. Then he ran out into the courtyard and stood by the charcoal fire with the soldiers.
On the other side of the courtyard, Jesus had been brought to face Annas. Questioned as to his teaching, he pointed to the spectators and said, with dignity, “These men know what I have taught; ask them.” It was a veiled rebuke, and at once some of the sycophant servants began to beat him and demand, “Is it thus you answer the High Priest?” “If I have spoken ill,” he replied, “give testimony; but if I have spoken well, why smite me?” Annas was baffled and annoyed; but he had played his part and had his honors, and so sent the prisoner to Caiaphas, the actual High Priest. [ p. 182 ] As they stood ready to depart, Peter felt the suspicious eyes of the soldiers on him and began with braggadocio to join in their conversation. His rough burr betrayed him as a Galilean, and they also accused him. The girl at the gate having run in, probably, and mischievously tormented him, her taunts and their questioning plunged him into a second denial. It was then that one of the relatives of Malchus, whom he had attacked in the garden, recognized him, and with his accusation, Peter denied again, this time with an oath. Midnight [2] had come (the first cock-crowing) without Peter’s noticing it; now came the “second cock-crowing,” and he remembered—remembered, and turned to see Christ’s eyes upon him, and, throwing his cloak over his face, rushed out into the street, shaking with sobs of penitence.
The Sanhedrin was now ready, and Jesus was called before this court. The investigation followed the regular course, but none too smoothly for the prosecutors. The charge was that Jesus claimed to be Messiah, [3] but no witness could be found who had heard him make such a claim. Judas alone could have testified to it—perhaps may have revealed it to the authorities—but Judas already had more than enough. He did not testify, and Jewish courts, like our own, could not take hearsay evidence. For a while it appeared that the prosecution would break down without any [ p. 183 ] opportunity to call for the prisoner’s testimony. Finally, however, two men testified to having heard Jesus say something which they interpreted as a claim of power to destroy and rebuild the temple, [4] a miracle that only the Messiah could accomplish. This was judged sufficient evidence to warrant calling on the prisoner to plead. Caiaphas made the formal demand. Jesus, however, refused to discuss his claims before such a court. In Jewish procedure, unlike our own, a refusal to plead was equivalent to a plea of “guilty,” [5] and Caiaphas, as in duty bound, asked: “You then confess that you are the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed? I charge you before God to answer truly!” Before such a question, so put, Jesus could no longer remain silent. It was as if he were put on oath in a modern law court. In Aramaic a question has the same form as a direct statement; [6] it was enough to reply, “Thou hast said it.” [7] The Sanhedrin had what it wanted. But, before anyone thought of stopping him, Jesus went on to give the Sanhedrin much more than it asked for: “From henceforth—by what you are to do to me—the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of God as this world’s Judge.”
The court sat aghast. To claim to be the Son of God, the Messiah, was a crime deserving death. But to claim to be the Heavenly Son of Man—so awful a pretension [ p. 184 ] was nothing short of blasphemy. [8] And it was blasphemy committed in the presence of all the dignitaries of Israel; not the confession of a crime, but the crime itself. Caiaphas voiced the feelings of all when he performed an act, as symbolic and as rigidly prescribed as that of an English judge when he assumes the black cap. Taking a knife, he made an incision through his outer garments and solemnly tore them for about four inches, a tear never to be sewn together again: “he rent his robes.” No further witnesses were needed; the court by acclamation pronounced Jesus “worthy of death.”
A generation ago—not quite so loudly or frequently, perhaps, today—much was made of the difference between the “Gospel of Jesus” (his teaching about God and righteousness) and the “Gospel about Jesus” (the doctrines about his person and work). It was for the “Gospel about Jesus” and not for the “Gospel of Jesus” that Jesus died. He was condemned because he made himself Divine Son.
A Jewish document ( Sanhedrin) written in a.d. 225 is often quoted in illustration of Jesus’ trial. Its evidence, however, must be used with great caution. It contemplates an independent Jewish court, bearing the responsibility for inflicting death, and so it provides safeguards that would have been needless in Jesus’ day. Moreover, many of its rules are much later than New Testament times and represent rabbinic ideas of what should have been the law, not the actual practice of any period. ↩︎
The “first cock-crow” means “midnight”; the “second cock-crow” means “3 a.m.” ↩︎
Properly, “had falsely claimed to be Messiah.” But to the Sanhedrin the falseness of such a claimant was not worth proving. ↩︎
Perhaps the explanation is to be found in St. John ii: 19-21. ↩︎
More technically, refusal to present a defense was the modern plea non wult contendere. ↩︎
Illustrated by the wording given above to Caiaphas’ demand. ↩︎
The reply does not mean, “You say so, not I.” ↩︎
The intensely curious Jewish usage, by which “Son of Man” is a vastly higher title than “Son of God” is correctly reproduced in Mark’s and Matthew’s accounts of the trial. The Gentile writer, Luke, however, has reversed the two titles, perhaps because he thought his readers would not otherwise understand them. ↩︎