Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth

by Reza Aslan

  The heavenly affirmation “This is my son, the Beloved” is from Psalms 2:7, in which God addresses David on the occasion of his enthronement as king in Jerusalem (Beloved was David’s nickname). As John Meier rightly notes, this moment “does not mirror some inner experience that Jesus had at the time; it mirrors the desire of the first-generation Christian church to define Jesus as soon as the primitive Gospel story begins—all the more so because this definition was needed to counter the impression of Jesus’s subordination to John, implicit in the tradition of the former being baptized by the latter.” Marginal Jew, vol. 2, 107.

  Among those scholars who make a convincing case that Jesus began his ministry as a disciple of John are P. W. Hollenbach, “Social Aspects of John the Baptizer’s Preaching Mission in the Context of Palestinian Judaism,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt (ANRW) 2.19.1 (1979): 852–53, and “The Conversion of Jesus: From Jesus the Baptizer to Jesus the Healer,” ANRW 2.25.1 (1982): 198–200, as well as Robert L. Webb, “Jesus’ Baptism: Its Historicity and Implications,” Bulletin for Biblical Research 10.2 (2000): 261–309. Webb summarizes the relationship between John and Jesus thus: “Jesus was baptized by John and probably remained with him for some time in the role of disciple. Later, in alignment and participation with John and his movement, Jesus also engaged in a baptizing ministry near John. Although he was still a disciple of John, Jesus perhaps should be viewed at this point as John’s right-hand man or protégé. While tensions may have arisen between John’s disciples and those around Jesus, the two men viewed themselves as working together. Only later, after the arrest of John, did a shift take place in which Jesus moved beyond the conceptual framework of John’s movement in certain respects. Yet Jesus always appears appreciative of the foundation that John’s framework initially provided for him.”

  Regarding Jesus’s sojourn in the wilderness, one must remember that “the wilderness” is more than a geographic location. It is where the covenant with Abraham was made, where Moses received the Law of God, where the Israelites wandered for a generation; it is where God dwelt and where he could be found and communed with. The gospel’s use of the term “forty days”—the number of days Jesus is said to have spent in the desert—is not meant to be read as a literal number. In the Bible, “forty” is a byword for “many,” as in “it rained for forty days and nights.” The implication is that Jesus stayed in the wilderness for a long time.

  I disagree with Rudolf Otto, who claims that “John did not preach the coming of the kingdom of heaven, but of the coming judgment of wrath”; The Kingdom of God and the Son of Man, 69. It is Otto’s point that John was concerned chiefly with the coming judgment of God, what he calls “the Day of Yahweh,” whereas Jesus’s focus was on the redemptive nature of God’s kingdom on earth. Yet even Jesus marks John’s activities as part of the inauguration of the Kingdom of God on earth: “The Law and Prophets were [in effect] until John; afterward, the Kingdom of God is proclaimed” (Luke 16:16).

  CHAPTER EIGHT: FOLLOW ME

  Josephus’s description of the Galileans can be found in The Jewish War 3.41–42. Richard Horsley expertly details the history of Galilean resistance, even when it came to the “political-economic-religious subordination to the Hasmonean high priesthood in Jerusalem,” in Galilee: History, Politics, People (Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1995). Horsley writes that “the Temple itself, temple dues, and rule by the high priesthood would all have been foreign to the Galileans, whose ancestors had rebelled centuries earlier against the Solomonic monarchy and the Temple. Thus the Galileans, like the Idumeans, would have experienced the laws of the Judeans superimposed on their own customs as the means to define and legitimate their subordination to Jerusalem rule” (51). Hence Luke’s assertion that Jesus’s parents went to the Temple for Passover every year quite clearly reflects a Lukan agenda rather than Galilean practices (Luke 2:41–51). See also Sean Freyne, Galilee, Jesus, and the Gospels (Dublin: Gill and MacMillan, 1988), 187–89.

  On the distinctive accent of the Galileans, see Obery M. Hendricks, The Politics of Jesus (New York: Doubleday, 2006), 70–73. For the implications of the term “people of the land,” see the comprehensive study done by Aharon Oppenheimer, The ’Am Ha-Aretz: A Study in the Social History of the Jewish People in the Hellenistic-Roman Period (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 1977).

  For more on Jesus’s family as followers, see John Painter, Just James: The Brother of Jesus in History and Tradition (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press), 14–31.

  The Greek word for “disciples,” hoi mathetai, can mean both male and female disciples. Obviously the sight of unaccompanied women following an itinerant preacher and his mostly male companions from town to town would have caused a scandal in Galilee, and in fact there are numerous passages in the gospels in which Jesus is accused of consorting with “loose women.” Some variants of the gospel of Luke say Jesus had seventy, not seventy-two, disciples. The discrepancy is irrelevant, as numbers in the Bible—especially evocative numbers such as three, twelve, forty, and seventy-two—are meant to be read symbolically, not literally, with the exception of the twelve disciples, which should be read both ways.

  There can be no doubt that Jesus specifically designated twelve individuals to represent the twelve tribes of Israel. However, there is much confusion about the actual names and biographies of the Twelve. Thank God for John Meier, who presents everything there is to know about the Twelve in Marginal Jew, vol. 3, 198–285. That the Twelve were unique and set apart from the rest of the disciples is clear: “And when it was day, he called his disciples to him and from them he chose twelve whom he named apostles” (Luke 6:13). Some scholars insist that the Twelve was a creation of the early church, but that is unlikely. Otherwise, why make Judas one of the Twelve? See Craig Evans, “The Twelve Thrones of Israel: Scripture and Politics in Luke 22:24–30,” in Luke and Scripture: The Function of Sacred Tradition in Luke-Acts, ed. Craig Evans and J. A. Sanders (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 154–70; Jacob Jervell, “The Twelve on Israel’s Thrones: Luke’s Understanding of the Apostolate,” in Luke and the People of God: A New Look at Luke-Acts, ed. Jacob Jervell (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1972), 75–112; and R. P. Meyer, Jesus and the Twelve (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1968).

  For more on Jesus’s anticlerical message, see John Meier, Marginal Jew, vol. 1, 346–47. Meier notes that by the time the gospels were written there were no more priests in Judaism. After the destruction of the Temple, the spiritual heirs of the Pharisees—the rabbinate—became the primary Jewish opponents of the new Christian movement, and so it is natural that the gospels would have made them appear as Jesus’s chief enemies. This is all the more reason why the few hostile encounters that Jesus is presented as having with the Temple priests should be seen as genuine. Helmut Merkel expands on the division between Jesus and the Temple priesthood in “The Opposition Between Jesus and Judaism,” Jesus and the Politics of His Day, 129–44. Interestingly, Jesus is seen in conversation with the Sadducees only once, during a debate around the resurrection on the last day; Mark 12:18–27.

  CHAPTER NINE: BY THE FINGER OF GOD

  A comprehensive treatment of Jesus’s individual miracles can be found in H. van der Loos, The Miracles of Jesus (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 1965).

  For more on Honi and Hanina ben Dosa, see Geza Vermes, “Hanina ben Dosa: A Controversial Galilean Saint from the First Century of the Christian Era,” Journal of Jewish Studies 23 (1972): 28–50, and Jesus the Jew (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1981), 72–78. For a more general study of miracle workers in the time of Jesus, see William Scott Green, “Palestinian Holy Men: Charismatic Leadership and Rabbinic Tradition,” ANRW 19.2 (1979): 619–47. A very good critique of scholarly work on Hanina can be found in Baruch M. Bokser, “Wonder-Working and the Rabbinic Tradition: The Case of Hanina ben Dosa,” Journal of Jewish Studies 16 (1985): 42–92.

  The earliest work on Apollonius is the third-century text by Philostra
tus of Athens titled The Life of Apollonius of Tyana. For an English translation, see F. C. Conybeare, ed., Philostratus: The Life of Apollonius of Tyana (London: Heinemann, 1912). Conybeare’s book also includes a translation of a later work on Apollonius by Hierocles titled Lover of Truth, which expressly compares Apollonius to Jesus of Nazareth. See also Robert J. Penella, The Letters of Apollonius of Tyana (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 1979). For an analysis of the parallels between Apollonius and Jesus, see Craig A. Evans, “Jesus and Apollonius of Tyana,” in Jesus and His Contemporaries, 245–50.

  Research done by Harold Remus indicates no difference in the way pagans and early Christians described either miracles or the miracle workers; “Does Terminology Distinguish Early Christian from Pagan Miracles?” Journal of Biblical Literature 101.4 (1982): 531–51; see also Meier, Marginal Jew, vol. 2, 536. More on Eleazar the exorcist can be found in Josephus, Antiquities 8.46–48.

  A survey of magic and the laws against it in the Second Temple period is provided by Gideon Bohak, Ancient Jewish Magic: A History (London: Cambridge University Press, 2008). As in the fable of Rumpelstiltskin, there was a general belief that knowledge of another’s name establishes a certain power over him. Magical prayers quite often derived their power from the name of whoever was being cursed or blessed. Per Bultmann: “The idea … that to know the name of the demon gives power over it is a well-known and widespread motif.” See History of the Synoptic Tradition, 232. Ulrich Luz cites as a Hellenistic example the story of Chonsu, “the God who drives out demons,” as an instance of demon recognition; “The Secrecy Motif and the Marcan Christology,” The Messianic Secret, ed. Christopher Tuckett (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983), 75–96.

  Joseph Baumgarten discusses the relationship between illness and demon possession and provides a host of references to other articles on the topic in “The 4Q Zadokite Fragments on Skin Disease,” Journal of Jewish Studies 41 (1990): 153–65.

  Additional useful studies on magic in the ancient world are Matthew W. Dickie, Magic and Magicians in the Greco-Roman World (London: Routledge, 2001); Naomi Janowitz, Magic in the Roman World (London: Routledge, 2001); and Ann Jeffers, Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 1996). The word “magic” comes from the Greek term mageia, which has its roots in the Persian term for priest, magos. As in “the Magi.”

  Contrary to popular perception, Jesus’s miracles were not meant to confirm his messianic identity. In all the biblical prophecies ever written about the messiah, there is no characterization of him as either a miracle worker or an exorcist; the messiah is king, his task is to restore Israel to glory and destroy its enemies, not heal the sick and cast out demons (indeed, there are no such things as demons in the Hebrew Bible).

  Justin Martyr, Origen, and Irenaeus are quoted in Anton Fridrichsen, The Problem of Miracle in Primitive Christianity (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1972), 87–95. Perhaps the most famous argument made about Jesus as a magician is Morton Smith’s controversial thesis, Jesus the Magician (New York: Harper and Row, 1978). Smith’s argument is actually quite simple: Jesus’s miraculous actions in the gospels bear a striking resemblance to what we see in the “magical texts” of the time, which indicates that Jesus may have been seen by his fellow Jews and by the Romans as just another magician. Other scholars, most notably John Dominic Crossan, agree with Morton’s analysis. See Crossan, Historical Jesus, 137–67. Smith’s argument is sound and it does not deserve the opprobrium it has received in some scholarly circles, though my objections to it are clear in the text. For parallels between the miracle stories in the gospels and those in rabbinic writings, see Craig A. Evans, “Jesus and Jewish Miracle Stories,” in Jesus and His Contemporaries, 213–43.

  Regarding the law for cleansing lepers, it should be noted that the Torah allows for those who are poor to substitute two turtledoves or two pigeons for two of the lambs (Leviticus 14:21–22).

  CHAPTER TEN: MAY YOUR KINGDOM COME

  For a clear and concise treatment of the notion of the Kingdom of God in the New Testament, see Joachim Jeremias, New Testament Theology: The Proclamation of Jesus (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1971). Jeremias calls the Kingdom of God the “central theme of the public proclamation of Jesus.” See also Norman Perrin, The Kingdom of God in the Teaching of Jesus (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963) and Rediscovering the Teachings of Jesus (New York: Harper and Row, 1967). Perrin refers to the Kingdom of God as being the very heart of the message of Jesus: “all else in his teaching takes its point of departure from this central, awe-inspiring—or ridicule-inspiring, according to one’s perspective—conviction.”

  According to John Meier, “outside of the Synoptic Gospels and the mouth of Jesus, [the term Kingdom of God] does not seem to have been widely used by either Jews or Christians in the early 1st century A.D.”; Marginal Jew, vol. 2, 239. The Hebrew Bible never uses the phrase the “Kingdom of God,” but it does use “Kingdom of Yahweh” in 1 Chronicles 28:5, wherein David speaks of Solomon sitting on the throne of the Kingdom of Yahweh. I think it is safe to say that this phrase means the same thing as Kingdom of God. That said, the exact phrase “Kingdom of God” is found only in the apocryphal text The Wisdom of Solomon (10:10). Examples of God’s kingship and his right to rule are, of course, everywhere in the Hebrew Bible. For example, “God will reign as king forever and ever” (Exodus 15:18). Perrin thinks the impetus for the use of the word “kingdom” in the Lord’s Prayer can be seen in an Aramaic Kaddish prayer found in an ancient synagogue in Israel, which he claims was in use during Jesus’s lifetime. The prayer states: “Magnified and sanctified be his great name in the world which he has created according to his will. May he establish his kingdom in your lifetime and in your days and in the lifetime of all the house of Israel even speedily and at a near time.” See Kingdom of God in the Teaching of Jesus, 19.

  Like many other scholars, Perrin is convinced that Jesus uses the term “Kingdom of God” in an eschatological sense. But Richard Horsley notes that while God’s actions with regard to the Kingdom may be thought of as “final,” that does not necessarily imply an eschatological event. “The symbols surrounding the Kingdom of God do not refer to ‘the last,’ ‘final,’ ‘eschatological,’ and ‘all-transforming’ ‘act’ of God,” Horsley writes. “If the original kernel of any of the sayings about ‘the son of man coming with the clouds of heaven’ … stem from Jesus, then, like the image in Daniel 7:13 to which they refer, they are symbolizations of the vindication of the persecuted and suffering righteous.” Horsley’s point is that the Kingdom of God may be properly understood in eschatological terms but only insofar as that implies God’s final and definitive activity on earth. He correctly observes that once we abandon the notion that Jesus’s preaching about the Kingdom of God refers to an End Times, we can also abandon the historic debate about whether Jesus thought of the Kingdom as a present or as a future thing. See Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 168–69. Nevertheless, for those interested in the “present or future” debate, John Meier, who himself believes the Kingdom of God was meant as an eschatological event, lays out the argument on both sides in Marginal Jew, vol. 2, 289–351. Among those who disagree with Meier are John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography, 54–74; Marcus J. Borg, Jesus: A New Vision (New York: HarperCollins, 1991), 1–21; and, of course, me. In the words of Werner Kelber, “the Kingdom spells the ending of an older order of things.” See The Kingdom in Mark (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974), 23.

  For more on the “Jewishness” of Jesus of Nazareth, see Amy-Jill Levine, The Misunderstood Jew (New York: HarperOne, 2006). Jesus’s statements against gentiles can be pretty firmly accepted as historical, considering that the early Christians were actively courting gentiles for conversion and would not have been well served in their efforts by such verses in the gospels. It is true that Jesus believed that gentiles would ultimately be allowe
d into the Kingdom of God once it was established. But as John Meier notes, Jesus seemed to have considered this to be the case only at the end of Israel’s history, when the gentiles would be allowed entry into the kingdom as subservient to the Jews. Marginal Jew, vol. 3, 251.

  I agree with Richard Horsley that the commandments to “love your enemies” and “turn the other cheek” in the gospel of Luke are likely closer to the original Q material than the parallel statements in Matthew, which juxtapose Jesus’s commandments with the Hebrew Bible’s command for “an eye for an eye” (lex talionis). See Jesus and the Spiral of Violence, 255–65.

  Regarding Matthew 11:12, I have included here the variant version of the verse—“the Kingdom of Heaven has been coming violently”—both because I am convinced it is the original form of the verse and because it fits better with the context of the passage. The standard version of the passage reads: “From the days of John the Baptist until now the Kingdom of Heaven operates by force, and forceful men snatch it away.” That is the translation by Rudolf Otto in The Kingdom of God and the Son of Man, 78. Note that this version of the verse is more often imprecisely translated as “From the days of John the Baptist until now the Kingdom of Heaven suffers violence, and violent men snatch it away,” though even those translations will include a variant reading to indicate the active voice that I use in my translation. The problem lies in the verb biazomai, which means “to use violence or force.” In the present perfect tense, biazomai can mean “to have violence done to one,” but it is not the perfect tense that is operative in this passage. Similarly, in the passive voice biazomai can mean “to suffer violence,” but again, it is not the passive voice that is used in Matthew 11:12. According to the UBS Lexicon, the word biazomai in this passage is actually in the Greek middle voice and thus means “to exercise violence.” A clue to how to translate the passage in Matthew 11:12 can be found in the parallel passage in Luke 16:16. Luke, perhaps wanting to avoid the controversy, omits altogether the first half of the verse—“the Kingdom of God operates through force/violence.” However, in the latter half of the verse he uses the exact same word, biazetai, actively in the phrase “everyone uses violence in entering it.” Ultimately the usual translation, “the kingdom of heaven suffers violence,” agrees neither with the time when Jesus spoke the words nor with the context in which he lived. And context is everything. See Analytic Greek New Testament (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Book House, 1981). Also see note on Matthew 11:12 in Thayer’s Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996) and Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament, ed. Johannes P. Louw and Eugene A. Nida (Grand Rapids, Mich.: United Bible Societies, 1988). Louw and Nida correctly note that “in many languages it may be difficult, if not impossible, to speak of the kingdom of heaven ‘suffering violent attacks,’ ” though they do concede that “some active form may be employed, for example, ‘and violently attack the kingdom of heaven’ or ‘… the rule of God.’ ”