The Mysteries of John the Baptist

by Tobias Churton

  And concerning the prince it is written, He shall not multiply wives to himself. [Deut. 17:17]

  And each man marries the daughter of his brother or sister, whereas Moses said, “You shall not approach your mother’s sister; she is your mother’s near kin.” [Leviticus 18:13]

  But although the laws against incest are written for men, they also apply to women. When therefore a brother’s daughter uncovers the nakedness of her father’s brother, she is (also his) near kin. (Damascus Document V8–12)

  Herodias was the daughter; Aristobulus was her father; her father’s (half) brother was Herod Antipas. Had this text appeared verbatim in the Gospels, spoken by John, we should hardly have been surprised. Furthermore, in the same section of the Damascus Document (thought to have been composed in the first century BCE and held dear by the New Covenanters), we read of the “builders of the wall” (Ezekiel 13:10). The epithet “builders of the wall” fits the Herodian builders of the Temple neatly. Rejected by the righteous “sons of Zadok” of the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Temple organization was also condemned by Jesus, who foresaw woe to those who ignored the righteousness of God (Mark 13:3). Jesus apparently quoted a similar prophecy (Psalm 118:22): “The stone the builders rejected has become the head of the corner.” What the “builders” reject becomes the basis for a new, purified holy building.

  In the Damascus Document, the “builders of the wall” are accused of having followed a “Spouter” who “shall be caught in fornication twice by taking a second wife while the first is alive,” whereas the principle of creation is, “Male and female created He them” (Genesis 1:27). This quotation was of course the essence of Jesus’s reply to gambits about the legality of divorce (Mark 10:1–12). Might we suspect the divorce issue was originally put to him because it was the central issue for which John suffered?

  Before we look again at Josephus’s account of John, putting it this time in the context of the war, one important point should be observed. Much is made of Herodias’s antipathy to the voice of John. However, John was, as far as we can tell, neither born nor had lived under the specific jurisdiction of Herod Antipas. He appears to have been a Judean. Judea was until 37 CE under the jurisdiction of the prefect, Pontius Pilate. Had John wished to avoid ensnarement by Herod, he need only have crossed the Jordan to the west. If there is any truth to the Gospel of John’s account of the Baptist and Jesus baptizing in the area of Salim and Aenon, it should be noted that these places were in the Decapolis, the “ten cities” region that enjoyed autonomy under Roman protection. So it remains something of a mystery as to how a major figure like John came to be arrested by Herod Antipas, unless John had more to do with Galilee (Antipas’s territory) than the Gospels are prepared to admit, or that John was a habitual frequenter of Herod Antipas’s court—or even a regular visitor to Macherus, a friend perhaps of Queen Phasaelis. Had John been an associate of Phasaelis, then Herodias’s alleged personal hatred for John would become clearer still. After all, Herodias was taking Phasaelis’s place, and if Phasaelis knew John, it may have been she who informed him about the divorce plans, specifically to generate a political and legal defense of her position. Thus, John might conceivably have been party to Phasaelis’s “escape” from Macherus. He might have been at the palace when he was arrested. His execution then could conceivably have been connected to Macherus’s proximity to Nabataea.

  If there was a chance of Aretas getting hold of John as a political and religious mascot, such a fear might have necessitated the execution that Herod must have known was politically very risky on the home front; not taking action also involved risk. There is also the real possibility that the nudge to execute John came from Rome; John was putting himself in the way of imperial policy, a policy that, literally, demanded Phasaelis’s father’s head. Since John’s opposition was obstructing this policy, the Emperor Tiberius would expect the Baptist troublemaker’s head to roll too. Niceties about John being a Judean would not have thwarted such an intent. That Rome might have been the critical, if covert, voice in John’s execution would not have suited the gospel writers one little bit. Paul had taught Gentile Christians that Rome’s authority was benign, a Godsend in fact. If Josephus knew more about the case, he would have probably felt compelled to hold the party line. Herod Antipas gave the order for John’s execution on the grounds of political expediency; that could mean simply “on Rome’s orders.” Somebody’s head was going to have to roll.

  It should be stressed that Josephus says nothing about John being “in the wilderness” at any time, only that he baptized. He could have done that anywhere. If we understand the “voice in the wilderness” as a true poetic metaphor, and not as description of habitual place, we may imagine a considerably more mobile figure than we are used to imagining, with followers all over the region. The Gospels’ placing of John “in the wilderness” is clearly based heavily on the most literal interpretation possible of Isaiah 40:3, one into which I fear we have all been taken in. There is not a lot of water in the wilderness. One might imagine a man of John’s archstature in religious history would have enjoyed the most profound spiritual understanding of the inner nature of Isaiah’s ancient prophecy. Any man who could formulate a movement of the scope he achieved was unlikely to have been one whose imagination was bound by the materialistic literalism of the peasant—or the average and below-average religious teacher.

  From this observation, another flows. If John was perceived by Herod Antipas as a political liability, for whatever reason, then we may be sure that King Aretas IV of Nabataea would have been “on the case.” If the Gospels are correct in attributing part of Herod’s objection to John as being due to the latter’s opposition to the marriage with Herodias, then we can see that, as far as Aretas was concerned, John was standing up and putting the legal case against Aretas’s errant son-in-law. This would immediately give John the kind of political status enjoyed fifteen hundred years later, in England, by Archbishop Cranmer when that distinguished churchman provided a legal-religious case for Henry VIII’s divorce of Catherine of Aragon. A corresponding parallel would then lie in the case of St. Thomas More, who for reasons of piety declared against Henry VIII’s supremacy of the church in England. More was beheaded. And it should be noted here with some emphasis that beheading was a form of execution reserved for persons of rank. John was clearly such a person, and his death, as much as his life, would be the cause of deep embarrassment to Herod Antipas, at least, and perhaps to other political players as well.

  The legality or otherwise of Herod’s marriage would have provided the legal basis or casus belli on which Aretas could justifiably have disturbed the Pax Romana and fought a war. In that case, John would certainly have been a dangerous figure to have in the corridors of power and, more particularly, among people at large.

  We cannot also therefore discount the real possibility that John may have been in contact with Aretas, having been seen by the Nabataean king as a significant ally. Therefore, anyone who served Herod’s family would, in such a case, have been concerned to neutralize John and, were there any chance of it, to prevent him from getting under the direct protection of Aretas. In this respect, the sending of John to Macherus is problematic. One could perhaps imagine the value of removing John far from his followers, but that would be to presuppose his greatest following was to have been found in Galilee, which the Gospels seem to be curiously quiet about, referring only to a scenario wherein all the people in Jerusalem and Judea “went out” to hear John. That puts him down south. Then why, when Jesus does miracles in Galilee, does the gospel Herod declare that John is back from the dead? Did the gospel writers wish to separate jurisdictions, as it were: Jesus of Galilee and John of Judea? One feels John has been “decreased” as Jesus has been “increased.” It does seem odd that a man as Josephus presents him should have been confined when, after all, his message was, as far as we assume, offered to all who had an ear for it.

  Now, let us look at Josephus’s account of the war:


  So they [Herod Antipas and Aretas] raised armies on both sides, and prepared for war, and sent their generals to fight instead of themselves; and when they had joined battle, all Herod’s army was destroyed by the treachery of some fugitives, who, though they were of the tetrarchy of Philip, joined with Aretas’s army. So Herod wrote about these affairs to Tiberius, who being very angry at the attempt made by Aretas, wrote to Vitellius [Lucius Vitellius, President of Syria] to make war upon him, and either to take him alive, and bring him to him in bonds, or to kill him, and send him his head. This was the charge that Tiberius gave to the president of Syria. (Antiquities XVIII.5)

  Dead Sea Scrolls scholar Robert Eisenman has suggested that that reference to Aretas’s head being desired by Tiberius went through a curious inversion when the Gospels were composed, and it became John’s head that was removed. Extreme as this sounds, it is curious how in Josephus’s history, John the Baptist suddenly appears, but only in the context of the war. The marriage is not mentioned, and Josephus does not say by what means the Baptist was put to death:

  Now some of the Jews thought that the destruction of Herod’s army came from God, and that very justly, as a punishment of what he did against John, that was called the Baptist: for Herod slew him, who was a good man, and commanded the Jews to exercise virtue, both as to righteousness toward one another, and piety toward God, and so to come to baptism; for that the washing [with water] would be acceptable to him, if they made use of it, not in order to the putting away [or the remission] of some sins [only], but for the purification of the body; supposing still that the soul was thoroughly purified beforehand by righteousness. Now when [many] others came in crowds about him, for they were very greatly moved [or pleased] by hearing his words, Herod, who feared lest the great influence John had over the people might put it into his power and inclination to raise a rebellion, (for they seemed ready to do any thing he should advise,) thought it best, by putting him to death, to prevent any mischief he might cause, and not bring himself into difficulties, by sparing a man who might make him repent of it when it would be too late. Accordingly he was sent a prisoner, out of Herod’s suspicious temper, to Macherus, the castle I before mentioned, and was there put to death. Now the Jews had an opinion that the destruction of this army was sent as a punishment upon Herod and a mark

  of God’s displeasure to him.

  To attribute the loss of an army to the execution of John gives us a good idea of the status John enjoyed in his own country. Disappointingly, we do not learn when the Baptist was put to death. The context suggests Antipas was under pressure. One would not want a rebellion or riot occurring when one’s army was engaged with an enemy. Antipas may well have wished to go to war without fear of an organized fifth column behind him. But as we noted before, Josephus offers no clue as to why John might have wished to raise a rebellion. John’s hold over the popular imagination is very clear; he appears to have no rival.

  The overall impression one gets from the limited, though highly suggestive, sources is that John had involved himself in the tetrarch’s affairs to a considerable degree and his activities put him under official suspicion, even if not entirely justified in terms of active, presumably armed, political opposition. What Herod did recognize was the power John wielded over his followers’ minds. If those minds were enflamed by messianic fervor, Antipas had grounds for concern. The Herodian dynasty’s corruption of the temple system was a constant target for messianic invective.

  Can we fix a date for John’s death?

  All indices suggest that the battle between Aretas and Antipas took place in 36 CE. That is the most likely date for the Baptist’s execution. Other than the appointment of newly made Consul Lucius Vitellius as governor of Syria in 35 CE, the only certain date we have that ties the historical record, such as it is, together is the death of the Emperor Tiberius. Tiberius died in 37 CE.

  But have you noticed something rather surprising? In most books, the date of Jesus’s crucifixion is given as sometime between 30 and 33 CE. After plowing through the arguments for these dates on many occasions, none of them, in my judgment, compels assent. They exhibit, I think, a tendency or desire to avoid a salient issue. The majority of commentators treat the Gospels as reliable or fairly reliable historical records. There are heavy vested interests. The crucifixion of Jesus was not recorded at the time it happened by anyone whose record has survived. The main marker has always been that it occurred under Pontius Pilate. Pilate was relieved of his duties in 36 or 37 CE, having governed Judea and Samaria, according to Josephus, for ten years. In this regard, study of the events around the death of John the Baptist has caused private dismay among some committed Christians. Since the “ministry” of Jesus (I prefer the word operation) is generally accepted as having begun after the Baptist’s arrest, and as it is generally accepted that it lasted some years (two or three usually), then, if John died in 36, and Jesus was active for another three years, then he could not have been crucified “under Pontius Pilate.” It would throw all the creeds up in the air. For this reason, Christian commentators cannot help themselves but to find every possible reason to suppose that John was arrested much earlier than 36—even earlier than the time of the death of Philip (34 CE), when the destiny of Herodias’s daughter’s tetrarchy became an issue (Salome was married to Philip) and marriage to Herod Antipas would strengthen their hand: vainly as it turned out. Whatever one makes of that, the execution of John is removed as far back as possible from the war with Aretas; the whole issue is fudged.

  This might calm nerves where evangelism is concerned, but on a purely historical basis, arguments against putting John in the context of historical actuality, derived from an urge to preserve articles of religious belief (or what has come to be associated with religious belief) can only appear to the objective eye as being profoundly biased, even misguided. Again, John is decreased! There is a curious disquiet when the theologically “decreased” are restored to historical proportions.

  My own survey of the evidence provides not only ample time for the key events to take place, keeping the creedal formularies of the faithful intact, but provides powerful insight into what in all probability happened and why. The key to opening the picture comes from recognizing the true significance of John the Baptist.

  FROM JOHN’S EXECUTION TO JESUS’S CRUCIFIXION

  The years 36 to 37 were tumultuous and confused for the eastern Roman Empire. Newly made Consul Lucius Vitellius, a rising star, had been sent by Tiberius to Syria to deal with the threat of a Parthian invasion of the strategically vital province. Vitellius had four crack legions at his disposal. In spite of the fact that the Syrian legions were the last resort in the case of rebellion in Judea to the south, the Parthian threat from the east and northeast was Vitellius’s chief concern. The last thing the empire needed was a war with Aretas IV and a breakdown of order in Palestine.

  Prefect Pontius Pilate occupied an unenviable position. He had no automatic jurisdiction in Herod Antipas’s territory but knew perfectly well what was going on and the threats posed to order in Judea and Samaria. If the worst should happen, and the Parthians should unite against Rome, the whole eastern border could collapse. Herodias’s egging on of her ambitions through her husband must have appeared to Roman eyes distinctly irritating, if potentially exploitable.

  The Emperor Tiberius had decided to join the late Philip’s tetrarchy to Syria, unwilling to let it go to Antipas and Herodias. Tiberius doubtless held it as a bargaining prize. Had Antipas defeated Aretas in 36, instead of the other way around, Antipas might reasonably have expected it to go to him. This would explain why, if there is any truth in Mark’s story of a “dancing Salome,” Philip’s widow had gone to live with her mother and her mother’s new husband. To put Salome back in her late husband Philip’s inheritance, Antipas needed a victory. If John’s word had blunted the will to win against the Nabataeans, little wonder John found himself in custody. John would probably have found himself being investigated at a deep level
, by someone like Saul of Tarsus, who according to Acts, specialized in zealously investigating unto death religious leaders who threatened the Herodian religious order. There is no reason whatever to think that Saul only came “on the job” in time for the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles narrative. Indeed, Eisenman wonders if the Christian Paul was not “Saulus,” grandson of Costobarus, Idumaean wife of Herod the Great. This would explain why Saul went to “Arabia” after he was parapsychologically confronted by the realization that he was still pursuing the “Son of God,” who was supposed to be dead, finished, politically neutralized. It would also explain Saul’s Roman citizenship and influential political positioning.

  By joining Philip’s tetrarchy to Syria, instead of giving it to Antipas, Tiberius must have realized he had made Antipas a potential ally of Artabanus II, the anti-Roman king of Parthia, whom the emperor was keen to unseat permanently when the time was right. Tiberius’s chief instrument of policy, Vitellius, brought a Roman-backed Parthian prince, Tiridates, to north Syria. Many Parthians backed Tiridates. It is no surprise to find that when Tiridates crossed the Euphrates with Roman escort on his way to Parthia, Herod Antipas was there to greet him, assuring his own loyalty to Rome by joining his welcome to that of pro-Tiridates Parthian nobles.