At the Court of the High Priest: History and Theology in John 18.13-24

Helen K. Bond

University of Edinburgh

Despite a general preference for the Synoptics, several features of John’s narrative

have often commanded a certain historical respect: the lengthier ministry and its wider

geographical location; the more complex relationship between Jesus and John the

Baptist; the date of the crucifixion; and the passage that concerns us now - John’s

Jewish interrogation of Jesus (Smith 1993, 252-67). C. H. Dodd argued in 1963 that

John’s

‘account of the interrogation is drawn from some source, almost certainly oral,

which was well informed about the situation at the time, and had contact with

the Jewish tradition about the trial and condemnation of Jesus.’1

Scholars today are less inclined to attempt to identify sources, they detect a Johannine

colouring to the scene, and are much more sophisticated in their treatment of

‘historicity’ and verisimilitude. Yet, as Paula Fredriksen notes, ‘when the question

turns to assessments of the Jewish trial in the Passion narratives . . . most modern

scholars . . .unite in their opinion that, in this instance and on this issue – historical

suitability – John is to be preferred.’2

Six reasons are often advanced for regarding John’s interrogation as historical. After

reviewing each in turn, I shall suggest that the scene is much more theological than is

1 Dodd 1963, 95-6. Dodd’s assessment was followed by string of prominent scholars, for example, Brandon 1968, 125-8; Barrett 1978, 523-4; Catchpole, 1970, 47-65; Millar 1990, 355-81. 2 Fredriksen 1999, 221; italics original. See also Brown 1994, 1:363, 404, 408; Senior 1991, 59; Keener 2003, 2:1086.; Smith, 1993, 264.

often supposed, but that John’s theology does not necessarily drain the scene of all

historical value.

(1) The first reason why John’s account is often preferred is the problematic nature of

the Synoptic account at this point. Mark (followed closely by Matthew) presents a

Jewish trial which breaks every legal ruling imaginable: it is held at night on the eve

of a festival; members of the council are intent on a conviction, even arranging for

false witnesses to be called; the high priest acts as a prosecuting councillor rather than

a judge; and in the end, after condemning Jesus on his own testimony, it is members

of the council who set about beating and abusing him (Mk 14.53, 55-64). Earlier

generations of scholars attempted to uphold the historicity of the scene, debating the

validity of mishnaic law in the first century, and asking whether the council followed

Sadducean rules. Recent literary studies, however, have shown that with ‘brilliant

simplicity’ (Brown 1994, 53) Mark constructs a final courtroom drama in which Jesus

is set against Jewish authorities who will stop at nothing in their desire to sentence

him to death. It is a kangaroo court in which the Jewish leaders, true to character,

behave despicably and Jesus is convicted, anachronistically, for his Christian belief

(Juel 1977; Bond 2004, 102-8).

Luke’s account is different, but no less problematic historically. He presents a small

scale interrogation the morning after Jesus’ arrest (Lk 22.66-71) which forms part of a

four-scene trial narrative, including the historically questionable trial in front of

Antipas and culminating in Pilate’s decision that the demand of the Jewish crowd

should be granted (23.25). The Lukan chief priests concentrate their questions on

Jesus’ identity, while several details from the Markan trial (such as the presence of the

high priest and false-witnesses, speaking against the Temple, and the charge of

blasphemy) are reserved until the trial of Stephen in Acts 6.8-7.60. Luke clearly had a

different agenda to Mark: he wanted to stress Jesus’ innocence, an innocence which

could only be maintained if Jesus had some semblance of a trial. So the Lukan Jesus

is tried on three specific charges (Lk 23.2), all demonstrably false, and found innocent

by two high status male witnesses: Antipas and Pilate. Of course, Jesus will

eventually be sent to the cross, but this is engineered in Luke’s narrative through a

combination of Jewish antagonism and Pilate’s weakness (Neagoe 2002, 62-90; Bond

1998, 152-9; 2004, 112-6).

(2) In contrast to the Synoptics, John’s account of Jesus before the high priest is

simple and straight-forward. And this is the second reason for preferring John at this

point. There is no dramatic courtroom setting, no Christological questions, no

desperate attempt to convict Jesus through false witnesses, no accusations of

blasphemy, and no abuse of the prisoner. Instead, Jesus stands alone in front of the

high priest and a couple of attendants. What we have here is not a trial at all, but a

brief fact-finding investigation once Jesus has been taken into police custody. The

high priest asks Jesus only about his disciples and his teaching, a necessary

preliminary, one might think, before passing him over to Pilate the following

morning.

(3) The third reason for preferring John’s account is the lack of necessity for any kind

of Jewish trial at this point in the gospel. It is commonly noted that the whole of

Jesus’ public ministry in John is a trial; Jesus’ Jewish opponents continually bring

accusations against him, and by chapter 11 the high priest has convened a Sanhedrin

and sentenced Jesus to death in his absence (Harvey 1976; Lincoln 2000). Material

connected with the Jewish trial in the Synoptics can be found scattered throughout the

gospel (Brown 1961). All the evangelist needed to do was to refer the reader back to

the trial in chapter 11 – something he does quite clearly in 18.3; there was no need for

Jesus to have any kind of a hearing by the Jewish authorities. The presence of Roman

soldiers in Jesus’ arrest (whether historical or not) would naturally lead the reader to

assume that Jesus would be taken into Roman custody, and it is the lengthy Roman

trial that will dominate John’s passion narrative. The most reasonable explanation for

including the apparently lack-lustre Jewish interrogation is that John is simply

drawing on a tradition too well known to omit (rather like the episode with Barabbas

in 18.39-40; so Bruce 1980, 11).

(4) Fourthly, it is often argued that John’s account has an air of authenticity about it,

and that his narrative contains a number of details which cohere well with what we

know of the religious and political situation of first century Judaea:

4.1: John accords a prominent place to the high priest (unlike Mark who omitted his

name and Luke who omitted him altogether). John knows that it was the high priest

and his entourage (chief priests, advisers, and other aristocrats) who made the

decisions and worked alongside the Roman governor for the good of Judaea, a state of

affairs outlined many times by Josephus (McLaren 1991).

At first glance, though, John’s references to the high priesthood are rather strange. He

seems to call Annas ‘high priest,’ for example, even though he has made it perfectly

clear that it was Caiaphas who was high priest that year (11.51, 18.13). Did the

evangelist think that two men could act as high priest simultaneously? And the

expression ‘high priest that year’ is itself odd: did John hold the erroneous belief that

the high priesthood, in common with a number of Roman priesthoods in Asia, was an

annual appointment? For Dodd, these apparent ‘confusions’ only added to the

authenticity of the tradition in that ‘an author composing freely would not be so likely

to allow himself to fall into this kind of confusion as one who was incorporating

material which, at a distance of place and time, he did not fully understand’ (Dodd

1963, 94). Nowadays, however, scholars tend to have a rather more positive

assessment of John’s accuracy. It is true that Num 35.25 allowed for only one high

priest at a time, but since the reign of Herod I, high priests had been appointed and

deposed at will, leading to an unprecedented situation in which a number of former

high priests were still living. There is ample evidence from Josephus (War 2.441, Ant.

20.205, Life 193), rabbinic tradition (m.Horayot 3.4), and perhaps Luke (Lk 3.2 and

Acts 4.6), that these former incumbents retained their former title and prestige,

perhaps reflecting a view that a high priest, once appointed, could not be deposed by

any foreign power (Mason 2003, 188). And the expression ‘high priest that year’ is

now generally interpreted as meaning that Caiaphas was high priest ‘that fateful year’

(Brown 1994, 405). John’s account of the high priesthood, then, seems to cohere well

with historical fact.

4.2 John is the only ancient author to suggest a specific connection between Caiaphas

and Annas (or Ananus I as he is known in Jewish sources). Ananus was the first high

priest appointed by Rome when Judaea became a province in 6 CE. Although he was

deposed after nine years (for reasons which are unknown), he was extremely

distinguished and had a prominent tomb to the south of the city which Josephus

referred to years later (War 5.506). Luke refers to him in his dating of John the

Baptist’s ministry (Lk 3.2) and in his account of the early church (Acts 4.6); and

Josephus stresses his importance and ongoing influence through his five sons, each of

whom succeeded to the high priesthood (Ant. 20.198). Although uncorroborated,

John’s suggestion of a connection between the two men would make good sense.

Caiaphas’ family background is obscure,3 and his rise to the high priesthood would be

only natural if he were connected by marriage to the most important high priestly

dynasty of first century Palestine (Bond 2004, 37). Even the Jesus Seminar see no

reason to doubt John’s record at this point, awarding the detail one of the few red

colourings in the whole gospel (Funk and the Jesus Seminar 1998, 429). And if

Ananus and Caiaphas were related, Ananus’ involvement in Jesus’ trial (though

mentioned by no other evangelist) would be quite explicable. Caiaphas, as officiating

high priest, had other duties to attend to the night before Passover, and might well

have left this important yet sensitive matter in the capable hands of his father-in-law

(Brown 1994, 1:363, 404, 408).

4.3 Furthermore, John’s lack of a formal council at this point fits with a number of

modern studies which query the existence of a fixed body known as ‘The Sanhedrin’

(Goodman 1987, 113-8; Sanders 1992, 472-90; Goodblatt 1994). Instead, members of

the aristocracy acted through ad hoc coalitions and alliances; the precise people

involved depended on the nature of the issue. True to the spirit of the age, disputes

were settled through diplomacy, negotiation and compromise.4 Historically, then, the

high priest may have simply summoned a small body of councillors to help him

3 A handful of rabbinic references may refer to him: tos.Yebamoth 1.10, y.Yebamoth 1.6, 3.1, and m.Parah 3.5. For further discussion (and bibliography) see Bond 2004, 23-4, 164-5. 4 The reference to ‘a sanhedrin’ in chapter 11 may well indicate a looser gathering, or a consilium, rather than a formal body known as ‘the Sanhedrin.’

determine the charge before passing Jesus over to Rome – precisely the outline of

events described by John.

4.4 Finally, the fourth evangelist credits Caiaphas with the gift of prophecy in 11:51

and reminds the reader of his words again here. A number of contemporary Jewish

texts similarly associate the high priest with prophetic powers (Hayward 1996, 70;

Dodd 1962; Gray 1993, 7-34), suggesting that John’s gospel came from a community

which knew these traditions and which had, at least at some point in the past, a certain

respect for the priestly office.

The author of the fourth gospel, then, presents a much simpler picture of the Jewish

trial which fits in well with what we know of first century practices. But can we say

more about this author and his sources?

5) John is the only evangelist to explain how Peter got into the high priest’s courtyard:

he was admitted by a mysterious ‘other disciple’ (allos mathētēs) with connections to

the high priest (18.15). This disciple is commonly linked to the Beloved Disciple, the

enigmatic figure who assumes a central role in the second half of the gospel, and

perhaps even to the evangelist himself (see discussions in Charlesworth 1995;

Blomberg 2002, 233-4, and Keener 2003, 1089). Even if, following Dodd, we

understand the ‘other disciple’ to be an otherwise unknown Judaean disciple (1963,

87-88), the implication is that at this point the evangelist may have had access to

good, historical eye-witness information (either that of his own, or a trusted source).

The vivid details of the scene, the charcoal fire (18.18) and the early hour (18.28),

appear to reinforce this view (Dodd 1963, 86; Burge 2001, 40).

6) The sixth and final reason why this scene is often regarded as more historical than

its synoptic counterpart is its apparent lack of theology. C. H. Dodd puts the matter

clearly: ‘Where the Marcan scene has profound theological significance, John, the

most theological of the evangelists, has given a version which has no theological

content, but moves altogether on a matter-of-fact level’ (1963, 92, also 93). R. E.

Brown too writes: ‘we find no clear Johannine theological motive that would explain

the invention of the Annas narrative’ (1970, 835). And D. Moody Smith sums up the

views of many when he writes: ‘John’s account of Jesus’ appearance before the high

priest is almost completely different [to Mark’s trial narrative] and, as commentators

have noted, less theologically freighted than Mark’s’ (2001, 116). In a gospel full of

theological insight, the apparent lack of theology here is taken to imply that John was

more dependent on tradition at this point, a tradition which may well go back to good

historical memory.

Varying combinations of these six points have convinced many scholars that what we

have in John’s account of Jesus before the high priest has at least a claim to historical

accuracy. Some, of course, have wished to harmonise John’s account with the

Mark/Matthean tradition, so that when Annas sends Jesus to Caiaphas in 18.24 we are

to read the Sanhedrin trial narrative into the story.5 Such harmonisations have an

ancient pedigree (traceable as far back as Tatian in the second century), but rather

problematically produce a composite sequence of events unlike anything in any of the

gospels (see Brown 1994, 23-4, 417). Even more difficult here is the fact that John

presented a full council meeting (albeit without Jesus) in 11:47-53. Whether the

5 So, for example, Bruce 1980, 11; Blomberg 2001, 232-5; Köstenberger 2004, 513; Carson 1991, 581; Benoit 1969, 79-85; Bauckham 1998, 158.

evangelist is following a different tradition to the synoptics, or has deliberately

relocated Mark’s final courtroom scene,6 there is absolutely no indication that he

expected his readers to understand a Markan-style trial after 18.24. Logically, then,

we have a four-fold choice: we can choose to follow John’s account, Matthew and

Mark’s account, Luke’s account, or none of them (so Crossan 1994, 152; 1996,147).

And most commentators – for the reasons outlined above - favour John’s.

But do these arguments really carry any weight?

The first four arguments, it seems to me, are strong ones. I would not argue with

reading the synoptics as dramatic courtroom fictions, nor with the apparent simplicity

of and lack of necessity for John’s account. Nor would I wish to dispute that John’s

account possesses an air of authenticity – though creating an air of verisimilitude, I

have to stress, is only that. All these details prove is that John was familiar with

Judaean ways and religious customs, not that he actually had any hard historical facts

at his disposal. Quite possibly, as E. P. Sanders notes, ‘John was just more astute

with regard to realpolitik that were the other evangelists, and so wrote a story with

greater verisimilitude’(1993, 72). I wish to remain agnostic over the ‘Other Disciple’.

At best, he is a witness to events outside rather than in the courtroom itself,7 and even

if he were in a position to furnish the evangelist with reliable eye-witness testimony to

the interrogation, I see no reason why the author would not have worked with it just

as creatively as he does elsewhere. The weakest argument in my opinion is that the

scene lacks theology and so, on that basis, has a good claim to historicity. In the

remaining sections of this paper, I wish to argue that the interrogation narrative is

6 For a survey of scholarship on the literary relationship between the Johannine and Synoptic passion narratives, see Smith 2001, 111-37; for a more complex relationship of ‘interfluence’ see Anderson 2006.7 A point conceded by R. Bauckham, though he goes on to argue that this disciple’s relationship to the high priest ‘may well be intended to indicate access to information’ (2006, 397-8).

highly theological and to ask what implications this may have on the historicity of the

scene. I shall start with a close reading of the text itself.

The Theology of the Trial in front of ‘the High Priest’

The problems regarding the identity of ‘the high priest’ in 18.19-24 are well-known.

As far as the flow of the narrative goes, the high priest must be Annas, and, as we

have seen, there is plenty of evidence that former high priests retained their title even

after they had been deposed. Yet Caiaphas was technically the high priest, and is the

only one specifically to have been named as such by John (11.49, 18.13, 24).

Scholars have detected some confusion here in John or his sources, and from the

second century attempts have been made to rearrange the order of the verses so that

Jesus appears in front of Caiaphas rather than Annas, though with little success.8

But perhaps the confusion is deliberate. In a gospel which delights in word plays and

double meanings, John has introduced two high priests: they are connected by

marriage and clearly share the same outlook and purpose; one is the most famous high

priest of the first century, the other is ‘high priest that year.’ The note that Jesus was

taken to Annas in 18.13 is immediately followed by a reference back to Caiaphas’

prophecy (18.14; 11.50-1), meaning that when Jesus stands before ‘the high priest’ in

18.19, the names of both men are in the reader’s mind. What this ambiguity does, I

suggest, is to deflect attention away from the precise incumbent, and on to the office

of high priest (so also Escaffre 2000, 58-61). The short scene brings Jesus face to

face with the supreme representative of ‘the Jews’ for one final confrontation.

8 For discussions of this problem, see Schneider 1957, 116 and Mahoney 1965, 137-44.

A face-to-face meeting is, of course, thoroughly Johannine. This evangelist has a

penchant for reducing scenes to one main protagonist (for example, the visit of

Nicodemus, who speaks in the plural, suggesting that the tradition recounted the visit

of a number of visitors [3.1-15]; or the presence of Mary Magdalene alone at the

tomb, where the other gospels have several women [20.1, 11-18]). Such a meeting

allows an individual the space to encounter Jesus, and to come to a decision about him

(3.17-21; Brown 1994, 413). Even if John’s tradition included a larger courtroom

scene at this point, the evangelist may well have deliberately singled out the one

person whose presence really mattered - the high priest - and brought him up against

Jesus in a tense and dramatic moment. Perhaps, too, this is why the scene is not a trial

as such; the evangelist is not interested in the high priest as a ‘judge’ (this is the role

of Pilate who will be found wanting in the next scene), but in the high priesthood

itself.

Commentators often highlight the contrast between Jesus inside the high priest’s

palace and Peter outside in the courtyard. ‘Jesus stands up to his questioners and

denies nothing’, writes Brown, ‘while Peter cowers before his questioners and denies

everything’(1970, 842). Read in this way, the scene becomes a reflection of the trials

of Johannine Christians at the hands of hostile authorities. Jesus is clearly the example

to be emulated, while Peter shows that even one of Jesus’ closest disciples could lose

his courage under pressure. There is some validity to this observation, but the

contrast between the two men works much better in Mark where Peter’s denials are

interwoven with a formal court hearing, and his refutations contrast starkly with

Jesus’ powerful ‘I am’ (Mk 14.62). In John’s gospel, Peter’s strong and simple

denials (ouk eimi) are a much better parallel to Jesus’ three-fold ego eimi at the arrest

(18.5, 6, 8), and the link back to the garden scene in 18.26 seems to confirm this

connection. Jesus’ confession in the garden defends his disciples (18.8), his ‘I am’

saves their lives, even at the expense of his own, while Peter’s ‘I am not’ saves his

own life but betrays his discipleship.

Why, then, does John interweave the denial scene with the interrogation? Why not

simply group Peter’s three denials together after the arrest, allowing his audience to

make the connection clearly? The answer, it seems to me, lies with the high priest’s

opening question regarding Jesus’ teaching and his disciples. Superficially this

sounds rather banal until we realise, along with Meeks (1967, 60-61), that the high

priest is drawing on the categories of the false prophet as condemned by Deut 13.2-6,

18.20: one who leads others astray (disciples) and falsely presumes to speak in God’s

name (teaching). Anyone familiar with Deuteronomy would understand the

implication of the high priest’s question. And the answer is not so much in Jesus’

verbal response as the interwoven story of Peter. At the precise moment that the high

priest asks Jesus if he is a false prophet, we see his prophecy to Peter in 13.36-38

coming true. Jesus is clearly no false prophet, though his full identity will be made

clear in the remainder of the scene.

It is often observed that, although bound throughout this exchange, Jesus’ behaviour

is far from that of a common criminal: he is self-assured and speaks boldly and

majestically to his high priestly inquisitor. Like Wisdom in the Jewish Scriptures,

Jesus has spoken openly in public places, inviting all to hear the message (Prov 8.2-3,

9.3, Wis 6.14, 16, Bar 3.37(38)). And, in a further Christological link with the

prologue (1.1-18), Jesus’ words echo those of God himself in Deutero-Isaiah,9 9 LXX of Dt-Isaiah 45.18-19, also 48.16; noted by Brown 1994, 415.

reinforcing once again the unity between the Father and the Son. The high priest’s

attendant takes offence at Jesus, slaps him in the face and asks if that is any manner in

which to speak to the high priest (18.22) 10. The exchange invites readers to compare

the two men, and to see that the true ruler is not the high priest but the majestic figure

of Jesus who will not be intimidated but courageously speaks up for himself. Jesus

has the last word in this encounter (18.20-21) and leaves as ‘the moral victor’

(Haenchen 1970, 205). The high priest and his attendant, in contrast, are silenced.

On one level, this is a clear rejection of the truth and shows that the high priest falls

under the condemnation of Jesus’ words. All he can do is to send Jesus to Caiaphas,

‘high priest that year’ – a designation which, though doubtless referring to that fateful

year, may also be designed to underline the transitory nature of the office. Like the

temple, the high priesthood has had its day, and its place in salvation has now been

superseded by Jesus. John’s silence regarding what happened in front of Caiaphas is

surely not because he expects his audience to supply a Synoptic-style sanhedrin trial,

or simply because of tradition. Rather the reference to Caiaphas underlines the

impotence of the high priest; whatever happened before him has no importance, the

narrative gaze does not rest upon him. Faced with Jesus, the high priest loses his

power and plays no further role in the story. Just as Jesus will later emerge as the true

judge before Pilate, so he is the true high priest before Annas/Caiaphas.

And this, once again, fits perfectly with the rest of the gospel. The evangelist

continually juxtaposes Jesus alongside Jewish feasts and institutions which are now

fulfilled or transcended by his presence. So Jesus is the one who embodies the true

10 There is an allusion here to Ex 22.28 (which forbade cursing a ruler of the people), and perhaps also to Lam 3.30 and Is 50.6.

meaning of the Sabbath (ch. 5), the real meaning of the Passover (ch. 6), Tabernacles

(chs. 7-10), and Dedication (chs. 10-12). He transforms the water of Jewish

purification into good wine (2.1-11), declares his body rather than the Temple the site

of true worship (2.19-22; 4.21-26), contrasts the bread of his body (presumably the

eucharist) with the manna given by Moses in the wilderness (6.25-65), claims priority

and superiority over Abraham (8.35) and dies as the new paschal lamb (1.29, 35,

19.14). What John is doing in this short interrogation scene, then, is bringing Jesus

against yet another crucial Jewish institution - the high priest – and underlining, once

more, Jesus’ utter superiority. Everything Jewish Christians once looked to the high

priest to achieve – intercession, sacrifice, reconciliation, cleansing and forgiveness of

sins – will now be accomplished through Christ11.

Historical Reflections

What does this say, then, about the historicity of the interrogation in front of the high

priest? Just because something is theological, of course, does not in any way mean

that it cannot also be historical (so Carson 1981, 104-7; Anderson 2007, 2). John may

have drawn theological meaning from actual historical events, or his theological

agenda may have led him to present something which (perhaps unintentionally) turns

out to be rather close to what happened. Yet as historians we need to be particularly

wary of scenes (particularly uncorroborated ones) which exhibit a high degree of

theology. Three elements in particular in the present scene, I suggest, are worth

reflecting on.

The first is the setting, the quiet ordered scene in which Jesus faces the supreme

representative of ‘the Jews.’ We have noticed already that John likes to reduce scenes 11 For further connections between Jesus and the Jewish high priest in John, see Bond 2007.

to a confrontation between Jesus and one other person; is the setting, then, a historical

reminiscence of a small preliminary interview, or a Johannine creation in which Jesus

faces the supreme representative of ‘the Jews’? Similarly, the exchange takes place at

night. Darkness and light are important dualistic motifs for this evangelist, extending

even to the settings of scenes. Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews, and Judas operate at

night; conversely, the Samaritan woman meets Jesus at noon (4.6; the appropriate

hour in Greek thought for a theophany), and Jesus reveals his glory on the cross at the

same time (19.14). When else, we might ask, would Jesus meet with the head of ‘the

Jews’ but at night? Even if John’s tradition had Jesus interrogated the morning after

his arrest (as in Luke), might not John have altered it to fit with his sense that the

leader of ‘the Jews’ could only function in the darkness?

Second is the presence of Annas. If what John wanted to do was to contrast Jesus

with the Jewish high priest, why not introduce the most influential high priest of the

first phase of Roman occupation, the founder of arguably the most significant priestly

dynasty of the first century, the man we might call ‘the high priest par excellence’?

Moreover, Annas may well have been infamous in Christian circles as the father of

the high priest responsible for the swift removal of James, the leader of the Jerusalem

church (a man also called Ananus; Josephus Ant. 20.199-203); the very name, then,

might well epitomise high priestly animosity. Is it not curious that although Annas

was clearly well-known to Luke (Lk 3.2, Acts 4.6), the third evangelist – despite a

lengthy trial narrative - says nothing about Annas’ involvement in Jesus’ death?

And third, in a gospel which delights in marriage imagery (Schneiders 1995, 356-7),

why not connect Annas to Caiaphas (‘high priest that year’) through marriage?

Surely it is strange that Josephus, who lauded Annas for his own high priesthood and

that of his five sons (Ant. 20.198 ‘something that never happened before to any other

of our high priests’) forgot - or did not know - the connection between him and

Caiaphas, the man who was probably in office at the time of Josephus’ birth? Is it

really credible that Josephus knew that Annas was the father of men who served for

only a year or so (Eleazar, Jonathan, Matthias), but had no knowledge of the

connection between him and the longest serving high priest of the first century, a man

who served for 18 or 19 years?

Of these three points, the second and third are the most problematic, though perhaps

not insuperably so. Neither Mark nor Luke had any great interest in the identities of

Jesus’ Jewish opponents: Mark does not name ‘the High Priest’ and Luke omits him

altogether (though Mark’s nameless high priest will make an appearance as a literary

device in his trial of Stephen in Acts). Matthew did name the high priest, though

whether this was a historical memory of Caiaphas’ involvement or simply because, as

a Jewish-Christian, Matthew knew that Caiaphas had been high priest at the time, is

uncertain. There was, however, no role for Annas in the Markan presentation adopted

by Matthew, and so it is hardly surprising that he does not feature in the dramatis

personae. The lack of corroboration of Annas’ role at this point, then, is perhaps not

as compelling as it may at first appear. On the matter of the relationship between

Annas and Caiaphas, it is worth noting that Josephus seems to have made use of lists

of high priests which he slotted into his narrative at appropriate points (Schwartz

1992, 212-312). We cannot know how full these lists were; they may have mentioned

important father/brother connections, but not necessarily marital ties. Given that

Josephus tells us very little about Caiaphas (or any other high priest for that matter), 12 Josephus’ summary of high priests in Ant. 20.224-51 may be drawn from such a list.

his silence regarding Caiaphas’ possible connection to Annas is not necessarily

deafening.

Least problematic is our first consideration. The night-time setting clearly adds to

John’s theological presentation, but it is also corroborated by Mark’s general outline

(Luke probably relocated the Jewish hearing to the following morning so that it would

form the first of a four-part trial before Jewish and Roman authorities). In 1Cor 11.23,

too, Paul recounts the tradition that Jesus was handed over at night. For a small ad hoc

group of Jewish leaders (with or without Annas) to convene shortly after his arrest

would not only make perfect sense, but would also fit Josephus’ contention that the

‘leading men’ were instrumental in handing Jesus over to Pilate (Ant. 18.64),13 and, as

we have seen, conforms to what we know of Jewish practice at the time. Despite the

theology of the scene, then, the broad sequence of events may conform to what

actually happened after Jesus’ arrest.

The content of the scene is more difficult, but even here there may be elements of

history that have not commonly been recognised. One such may be the matter of the

charge, more specifically the accusation that Jesus was a ‘false prophet.’ Earlier in the

gospel the rather anachronistic sounding charges brought by ‘the Jews’ are that Jesus

claims to be the Christ, and is a blasphemer (10.22-39, charges which appear again in

a slightly different guise in the Roman trial, 18.33-38, 19.7-11). But if the

reconstruction of the scene offered above has any merit, it is clear that the charge of

being a false prophet was one that John wanted to counter, and may well have been

13 The authenticity of Josephus’ Testimonium Flavianum (Ant. 18.63-64) is of course highly debated. A number of modern studies, however, have argued that while the passage clearly shows signs of later Christian editorial work, the sentence regarding the involvement of the Jewish leaders may well be original. See Meier 1990, Carleton Paget 2001.

the actual charge against Jesus. B.Sanh 43a, 107b has Jesus executed as a magician

and a seducer of the people, that is, a false prophet; and a range of scholars have, on

quite different grounds, concluded that this – rather than the charge of blasphemy in

Mark and Matthew - may have been the real accusation (so, for example, Wright

1996, 439-42).

In conclusion, the precise course of events after Jesus’ arrest is probably now

irrecoverable. Our primary texts are such that it would be impossible to prove one

narrative over another. What we can do, however, is to evaluate degrees of

probability, and on this count, when it comes to Jesus before the high priest, John’s

account performs relatively well. Despite the theology of his scene, the Fourth

Evangelist’s presentation of events does seem to possess a greater claim to historical

accuracy than those of the synoptic writers – though whether John had better

traditions, a better sense of what commonly took place in such cases, or was (perhaps

unconsciously) guided by his theological interests to present a scene which happened

to cohere well with historical events, is impossible to say.

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