[ p. 423 ]
THE TRIAL:
(I) Before the Sanhedrin
Jo. xriii. 12-27; Mt xxvi. 57-xxvii. 10; Mk. xiv. 53-72; Lk. xxii. 54-71.
Our Lord’s offence in the eyes of the Jewish rulers was blasphemy; and since blasphemy was a capital crime, it fell under the cognisance of the supreme court of the Sanhedrin. Had it been the day-time when He was arrested, He would forthwith have been conducted to the Hall of Hewn Stone ; but it was now barely 2 a.m., and since the Sanhedrin might not meet ere the time of morning sacrifice—about 3 a.m., when from the Temple watch-tower the gleam of daybreak was descried on Mount Hebron—there was still a full hour to run. What should be done with Him during the interval ?
This had been arranged. In those days the most influential personage in the Jewish state was Annas, the Chief Priest emeritus. Notwithstanding that the august office, formerly hereditary and tenable for life, was then at the disposal of the Roman governors and the Herodian princes, who sold it, as opportunity arose, to the highest bidder, he had held it for ten years, and on his deposition by Valerius Gratus in the year 15 A.D. he had contrived to retain it in his own family. It was now held by his son-in-law Joseph Caiaphas ; but Annas was still predominant, and how [ p. 424 ] could the interval between our Lord’s arrest and the meeting of the Sanhedrin be more profitably employed than in a precognition by the astute veteran in order to expedite the formal trial ?
And so, says the Evangelist, “they led Him to Annas first.” They had not far to lead Him; for Annas had his residence on the slope of Olivet close by the Orchard of Gethsemane— (Jo. xviii. 13) a stately mansion built with the wealth acquired by administrative corruption, especially the profit of the unholy traffic which he and his family carried on at the festal seasons in the outer court of the Temple, and hence popularly nicknamed “The Booths of the Sons of Annas.” (Cf. Jo. ii. 14-16; Mt. xxi. 12,13; Mk. xi. 15.17; Lk. xix. 45,46) Thither the soldiers and the officers of the Sanhedrin conducted our Lord. The eleven had fled, but two of them, Peter and “another disciple” none other than John the Evangelist, presently rallied and followed after them. On their arrival at the outer gate of the palace it was opened to admit the prisoner and His guard, and then closed. No others had the right of entry, but it is written that John was “known to the Chief Priest,” and the portress let him pass in. Peter had no such credential, and he was shut out. There he must have remained, but John spoke for him to the portress and she opened the gate and admitted him too.
Is not this a surprising incident ? John was a fisherman from the Lake of Galilee, and he was known in Jerusalem only as a follower of one who had incurred the displeasure of the rulers and had just been arrested on a charge of heresy and sedition. What intimacy was possible between him and that proud and pitiless [ p. 425 ] tyrant? The question has long been debated, and one old suggestion still in vogue is that he may have belonged to a priestly family and thus, though only a Galilean fisherman, may have been a kinsman of the Chief Priest. But this is a pure fancy, and the explanation is far simpler and more significant. It was furnished long ago by a forgotten scholar who was named Nonnus and belonged to Panopolis in Upper Egypt. He was born and bred a pagan, and his early fame rested on his poem the Dionysiaca, a monumental work in forty-eight books, dealing with mythology and archaeology. On his conversion to Christianity he devoted his learning to its service. His ambition was to commend his new faith to his old associates and win the intellect of the world for Christ. He was no preacher or controversialist but a studious man of letters, loving retirement; and here he found a rare opportunity. The New Testament, being written in the Common Greek, the unliterary vernacular of the period, made no appeal to literary taste; and so, about the year 400, Nonnus executed a metrical paraphrase of St. John’s Gospel in the form of a classical epic. Its poetic merit is indeed slight; but it exhibits much literary skill, and it possesses this abiding value for students of the New Testament—that it preserves not a few traditional elucidations of obscure passages.
Here is an instance. “There followed in His path at a distance,” so runs his paraphrase of the passage before us, “Simon and another young comrade who, being well known from his trade of fish-catching to the famed Chief Priest, went running in Christ’s train into the courtyard.” See what this means. Ere the [ p. 426 ] Lord called Him, John had been a fisherman at Capernaum, and the Galilean fishery was a thriving industry. The Lake swarmed with fish which, by reason of their excellent quality, were in large request. Close to Capernaum was a town called Taricheae or “The Pickleries” where they were preserved, and thence they were exported far and wide. The market of Jerusalem was supplied from Galilee, and the demand was particularly large during the Passover season when the city was crowded with worshippers. In this busy industry John had all his life had an interest, and no small interest; for he and his brother James and their father Zebedee were employed in it, and evidently in a somewhat large way since, as the Evangelist mentions (Mk. i. 20.), they had several paid hands. Of course they engaged in the export trade, and they would certainly have a connection with the capital.
Here lies the explanation of the Apostle’s acquaintance with the Chief Priest. He was no stranger at the palace, since for years past he had never visited Jerusalem without presenting himself there in the way of business. He would have accounts to settle every time. The portress knew him well; and what wonder that she admitted him on that eventful night and at his request let him bring his friend with him into the courtyard ?
And what of the Master meanwhile ? The officers had taken Him in charge and leaving the soldiers in the courtyard had ushered Him into the presence of Annas. What transpired is but meagrely recorded (Cf. Lk. xxii. 59.); for though it lasted an hour, it was a private interview, and what little the Evangelist knew he learned probably by the report of the officers. [ p. 427 ] The purpose of the astute old Chief Priest was to elicit from the prisoner some admission which might be employed against Him at the subsequent trial; and he questioned Him “regarding His disciples and regarding His teaching”—promising fields of inquiry both. For had He not a Zealot among His disciples, and might He not on this score be made out a ringleader of sedition ? And did not His attitude toward the Sacred Law and His claim to a divine commission furnish ground for a charge of blasphemy ?
The Lord knew the purpose of this cross-examination, and He recognised also that it was nothing less than a flagrant illegality. For the Jewish law, always scrupulously merciful, required that a trial on a capital charge should begin with the production of witnesses for the defence, and the attempt to extort from Him some damning admission was thus a gross violation of justice. And so at last He entered a protest. “I have spoken freely to the world. I always taught in the synagogue and in the Temple where all the Jews meet, and in secret I spoke nothing. Why are you questioning Me ? Question those who have heard what I spoke to them. See,” said He, indicating the officers, “these men know what I said.” It was a courteous remonstrance, yet it was at the same time a sharp rebuke. Annas was not accustomed to have his procedure challenged. He would flush with indignation ; and observing his discomfiture and thinking to curry favour, one of his creatures smote the prisoner. “Is it thus,” he demanded, “that you answer the Chief Priest ?” The Lord quietly replied : “If I spoke ill, witness of the ill; but if well, why do you strike Me ?” It was a gross outrage not only [ p. 428 ] on the prisoner but on the tribunal before which He stood, and Annas should have sternly reprimanded it. But he let it pass. The hour for the convening of the Sanhedrin was nigh, and he ended the examination and dismissed the prisoner to His trial.
And what had been passing meanwhile in the courtyard below ? When the portress at John’s request admitted Peter, she remarked as she let him in : “You are one of this fellow’s disciples too, aren’t you ? ” She meant no harm. It was mere banter; and had he, like his comrade, made no disguise and simply assented, that would have been the end of it. But in his dread of arrest he blurted out a denial. “I am not ” said he, and hastily passed on. It was chilly in the open at the bleak hour before dawn, and the domestics and the soldiers in waiting for the prisoner had gathered round a brazier in the midst of the court. Peter joined the group, and with a poor assumption of indifference sat warming himself in the cheerful blaze ; but the portress was a mischievous damsel and would not let him escape. She presently stepped forward and confronted him. “You were with Jesus the Galilean too ” said she. “I don’t know what you mean ” he faltered. All eyes were turned on him, and he withdrew in confusion and sought the seclusion of the wide gateway. But there was no escape. His tormentor returned to her post with some of the curious idlers. “This is one of them ” she cried, and with an oath he denied it : “I don’t know the fellow,” and retreated into the courtyard. The whole company gathered about him and after the manner of their sort diverted themselves by playing upon his terror. “Indeed,” cried one, “you are one [ p. 429 ] of them ; for you are a Galilean : your accent betrays you/’ “I am not " he vociferated. Among his tormentors, as ill luck would have it, was a kinsman of Malchus who had been present at the arrest and witnessed Peter’s assault. “Didn’t I see you in the orchard with him ? ” said he. This drove the wretch frantic. Old habits die hard, and with a torrent of oaths as in former days when he was a rough fisherman by the northern Lake, “I don’t know the fellow,” he shouted.
It was now daybreak, when “the winged messenger of day ” ushered in the fourth watch (3-6 a.m.), “calling men back to cares and toil” ; and while Peter’s oaths were ringing through the courtyard, a cock crew, and back to his remembrance rushed the words which the Master had spoken to him a few hours ago in the Upper Room : “Ere cock-crow you will deny Me time and again.” Just then, as it chanced, the prisoner was being conducted across the courtyard from His examination within doors. As He passed the noisy group, He had heard the blasphemy of those lips which had vowed devotion unto death ; and when Peter, startled by the cock-crow, turned round, he saw that gentle face surveying him with sorrowful reproach. Only a look, but it broke the recreant’s heart. He burst into tears of bitter grief and fled through the open gate from the scene of his shame.
From the mansion of Annas the prisoner was conducted down the slope of Olivet and through the streets of the still slumbering city to the Hall of Hewn Stone, there to stand His trial before the Sanhedrin under the presidency of Caiaphas, the acting Chief Priest. Early as it was there was a full attendance. Not that there was need of deliberation; for already, on the [ p. 430 ] double score of His habitual violation of their Sabbath law and His repeated claim to deity, the rulers had found Him guilty of blasphemy and had determined that, when opportunity offered, He should be put to death ; and now that He had been delivered into their hands, what had they to do but pass sentence upon Him ? Here, however, they were confronted by an embarrassing restraint. In those days, when the Jews were vassals of Rome, “it was not allowable for the Sanhedrin to put any one to death.” (Jo. xviii. 31) It was not enough for the Chief Priest and his colleagues to pass sentence on the prisoner: their sentence was subject to the procurator’s revision, and it must be such as he would approve.
Such a sentence they now set themselves to procure. According to the Jewish law blasphemy was a capital crime punishable by stoning to death ; but what had the Roman law to do with questions of the Jewish religion ? The only way of attaining their end was by giving the case a political colour and arraigning Him on a charge of turbulence and sedition ; nor was this difficult in those troublous days when the land was seething with disaffection. They produced a number of witnesses ; but so inconsistent were their allegations that it was impossible to construct a charge which would bear the scrutiny of an impartial tribunal. Only one had a show of reason. It was preferred by two witnesses who recalled that cryptic saying of His at the Passover three years ago : “De sanctuary, and in three days I will raise it.” (Jo. ii. 19) It was a prophecy of His death and resurrection, but they had, perhaps in all good faith, taken it literally and construed it as a threat of revolutionary [ p. 431 ] violence : “We heard him saying : ‘ I will demolish this Sanctuary made by hands, and in the course of three days will build another not made by hands/” It was a palpable perversion, and the court recognised the futility of going before the procurator with so flimsy a charge.
All the while the Lord stood silent, offering no defence. Indeed none was needed, since the allegations of His accusers refuted themselves. It seemed as though the case were breaking down for lack of evidence. If only He would speak, He might incriminate Himself; and Caiaphas, starting from his judgment-seat, menacingly confronted Him. “You are answering nothing ! What,” he demanded, “of the witness which these are bearing against you ?” It was a shameless attempt at intimidation, and Jesus met it with disdainful silence. What could the baffled tyrant do ? A device occurred to him. The idea was abroad that the prisoner was the Messiah, the Promised Deliverer, and that He would presently announce Himself as the King of the Jews; and if this were His own claim, then He might reasonably be delated for treasonable designs. But then so unspiritual was the Messianic ideal of His day and so false the expectation which it had created, that He had shrunk more and more from Messianic ascriptions and it was doubtful whether He had claimed Messiahship or no. Caiaphas would now challenge an express declaration. “I put you on oath,” said he, “by the Living God to tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”
It was an adroit stratagem. He was indeed the Messiah, and had He kept silence, He would have been false to His commission. “Have it so,” He answered. [ p. 432 ] At such a claim from a helpless captive, a poor Galilean, a derisive murmur would pass round the court. They little dreamed, those insolent rulers, who He was or in what far other guise they would one day behold Him. “I tell you,” said He, surveying their scornful faces, “by and by you will see the Son of Man ‘seated at the right hand’ of power and coming with the clouds of heaven.’” (Ps. cx. 1; Dan. vii. 13)
It was required by the Rabbinical law that one who heard blasphemy should rend his garments in token of horror. “Blasphemy !” cried Caiaphas, and rent his garments. In truth there was no horror in his heart but rather exultation ; for he had achieved his purpose. “What further need have we of witnesses ? See, you have heard the blasphemy. What is your opinion ?” It was the formal demand for the judgment of the court; and sentence of death was passed.
It was ordained by the Jewish law that in a trial on a capital charge, whereas, if the prisoner were found innocent, his acquittal should be forthwith pronounced, on the other hand, if he were found guilty, his sentence should be delayed until next morning, and the judges must pass the rest of the day in mourning and fasting. But in their unholy triumph our Lord’s judges ignored that gracious ordinance. They tumultuously acclaimed Him guilty and sentenced Him on the instant. And worse still: forgetful alike of their own dignity and of the majesty of their august court, those grave and reverend signiors compassed the helpless prisoner with coarse contumely. Abetted by their officers, they spat upon His holy face; they blindfolded Him and buffeted Him aqd cried : “Divine for us, Messiah ! Who is it that smote you ?”
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The shameful scene was of short duration, since they were eager to arraign Him before the procurator and have Him done to death. So He was again taken in charge and conducted from the Hall of Hewn Stone on His way to the Praetorium, the procurator’s official residence, formerly the palace of Herod, on the western side of the city ; and the Sanhedrists followed after. As they were leaving the Hall, they were startled by a wild apparition. It was the miserable traitor. It had happened with him as with many another criminal—with Nero, for example, of whom it is told that he ruthlessly compassed the assassination of his mother Agrippina and “when the crime was at last accomplished, he realised its portentous guilt, and for the rest of the night, now silent and stupefied, now and still oftener starting up in terror, bereft of reason, he awaited the dawn as if it would bring with it his doom.” And even so, when Judas saw the Master in His enemies’ hands, he realised what he had done and was stricken with remorse. Was it too late ? Might he not even yet cancel his infamous bargain with the Chief Priests? With the accursed shekels in his hand he betook himself to the Hall of Hewn Stone, and waited there till the prisoner was led forth; and then when Caiaphas and old Annas and the other Chief Priests emeriti appeared, he confronted them. “I sinned,” he cried, “in betraying innocent blood !” and producing the money, would have paid it back. But they brushed him aside. “What is it to us ?” said they; “you will see to it,” and would have passed on. But he pursued them with wild importunities till, as they crossed the Templecourt, they reached the Sanctuary, and to be rid of [ p. 434 ] him they retreated into the Holy Place. Ere they could close the door against him, he hurled the shekels after them, and went away and hanged himself.
They gathered up the coins, and by and by at their leisure they deliberated what should be done with them They were the price of blood, and it would have been impiety to put them into the Temple treasury ; and at length they resolved to devote them to what seemed a fitting service. To the south of the city lay a disused clay-bed known as “The Potter’s Field,” It was good for nothing and a blot upon the landscape, and they purchased it with the thirty pieces of silver and turned it into a burial-place for Gentiles who chanced to die in the Holy City. The unhallowed spot was styled Akeldama , “The Field of Blood ; and it was still there in St. Jerome’s day more than three centuries later—an abiding memorial of the ghastly tragedy of the traitor’s end.
A ghastly tragedy indeed it was ; and it is no wonder that it was soon invested with imaginary horror. An example of the legends which arose is that gruesome story in the Book of Acts (Ac. i. 18,19), parenthetically intruded into the speech which Peter made in proposing the election of a successor to Judas. What of this story, so widely different from the tale which the Evangelist tells? In truth it is no part of the sacred narrative. Originally a reader’s note on the margin of his manuscript, it was, as so frequently happened in the transcription of ancient books, incorporated with the text by a later copyist; and its value is that, like other legends still more gruesome which are preserved in early Christian literature, it shows us what horror the traitor’s end inspired.