Josephus on Jesus: What Did Josephus Say About Jesus?

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

I bet Josephus never imagined he would be this important in the history of Western civilization. A 1st-century Jewish historian writing under Roman patronage, Josephus had no intention of founding a religion or shaping the theological imagination of billions.

And yet, when it comes to the question of whether Jesus of Nazareth really existed, few ancient voices are invoked as often (or as passionately debated) as his. The topic of Josephus on Jesus has become a cornerstone in discussions of the historical reliability of non-Christian sources, and the conversation shows no signs of fading.

For many readers today, the New Testament provides all they need to know about Jesus. But historians are naturally more cautious. They want evidence that goes beyond the confessional. Sources that are external, independent, and, ideally, uninterested in promoting Christian faith.

Josephus is often celebrated for providing just that. The mere fact that a Jewish historian writing near the end of the 1st century mentions Jesus at all has generated both curiosity and intense scrutiny. Is the text authentic? Did later Christians alter it? What did Josephus actually say?

In what follows, I’ll explore these questions in depth. First, I’ll briefly introduce who Josephus was and why he matters. Then I’ll turn to the central focus of this article: the two brief, but historically significant, references to Jesus found in his writings.

Before we dive in, take a moment to check out Bart Ehrman’s outstanding course, “The Genius of Mark: Revealing the Mysteries of the Gospel of Mark.” In this eight-part series, Dr. Ehrman explores the earliest surviving account of Jesus’ life, uncovering surprising insights and overlooked features in the Gospel of Mark. This is a must-watch for anyone interested in the historical Jesus.

Josephus Flavius: Short Biography

Despite his importance for understanding 1st-century Judaism and early Christianity, there are surprisingly few external sources about Josephus’ life. In other words, nearly everything we know about him comes from his writings (more on those later).

According to his autobiographical account, Josephus was born in 36 or 37 C.E., just a few years after the crucifixion of Jesus in Jerusalem and around the same time that Paul experienced his conversion to Christianity.

Josephus claimed descent from an ancient and prestigious priestly lineage. He belonged to the first of the 24 priestly courses established in Jerusalem and, within that elite class, to one of its most distinguished families.

His upbringing and education were steeped in Jewish tradition, and he quickly rose through the ranks of Jewish society. During the Jewish revolt against Rome that erupted in 66 C.E., Josephus was appointed commander of Jewish forces in Galilee.

At first glance, it might seem that such a man (aristocratic, learned, and a military leader against the Roman occupation) would be celebrated within the Jewish tradition. Well, not so much. Why?

Per Bilde explains in his Biography of Josephus:

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That controversial decision (choosing survival over martyrdom) defined the rest of Josephus’ life. Well, who can blame him?! Anyway, while still in Roman custody, he predicted that his captor, General Vespasian, would become emperor.

Remarkably, the prophecy proved accurate: After Nero’s suicide in 68 C.E. and a year of civil war that saw three emperors rise and fall, Vespasian was declared emperor by his troops. Grateful for the prediction, the new ruler rewarded Josephus handsomely: He received Roman citizenship, a pension, and an apartment in Rome, where he would live out the rest of his life under Flavian patronage.

From that point on, Josephus became a Roman insider. He lived in the imperial capital, enjoying the protection and support of the very regime he had once opposed on the battlefield. While this arrangement secured his safety and enabled his writing career, it also ensured that Jewish tradition would remember him with suspicion, if not outright contempt.

He died sometime around the year 100 C.E., having spent nearly half his life chronicling the events that had shaped his world and his place within the Jewish tradition. 

Of course, there’s much more to the story, including a few colorful details that we didn’t have space for here. For those interested in the full picture of Josephus’ life, we have a whole article dedicated just to him.

For us, though, the more pressing question is this: when it comes to Josephus on Jesus, what did he actually say, and can we trust it?

Writings of Josephus: A Brief Glimpse

However, before we move into the Josephus on Jesus issue, let’s take a brief look at his literary legacy. After settling in Rome under imperial patronage, Josephus devoted the rest of his life to writing historical works that sought to explain Jewish history and culture to a Greco-Roman audience.

His two most significant contributions (The Jewish War and Antiquities of the Jews) are indispensable sources for anyone interested in the world of first-century Judaism and the historical backdrop of early Christianity.

His first major work, The Jewish War, was completed around 75-79 C.E. It offers a dramatic and detailed account of the Jewish revolt against Rome, beginning with the roots of the rebellion and culminating in the catastrophic destruction of Jerusalem and its temple.

Josephus writes as both a participant and a historian, blending his eyewitness testimony with rhetorical flourishes intended to appeal to his Roman patrons. (Here you can read this work in a scholarly English translation.)

Simone Claude Mimouni, in his book Le judaïsme ancien du VIe siècle avant notre ère au IIIe siècle de notre ère (Ancient Judaism from the 6th Century B.C.E. to the 3rd Century C.E.) highlights Josephus’ multifaceted approach:

Josephus’ later and even more ambitious project was Antiquities of the Jews, written around 93 C.E. Spanning 20 volumes, this massive history attempts to recount the story of the Jewish people from the creation of the world down to Josephus’ own time. Think of it as a kind of Jewish version of Livy’s Ab Urbe Condita, aimed at explaining Jewish tradition and scripture to a Roman readership.

It’s in this work, not The Jewish War, that Josephus famously refers to Jesus, and that’s what we’ll explore in the next section. (Here you can read Antiquities in a scholarly English translation.)

What Did Josephus Say About Jesus?

If I had a penny for every time someone asked me whether any non-biblical sources confirm Jesus’ existence, I’d be writing this from my private island. The question is a common (and perfectly reasonable) one. After all, outside the New Testament, what ancient evidence do we actually have?

This is where the Josephus on Jesus issue comes into the picture. In what follows, we’ll take a closer look at the two passages in his writings that mention Jesus.

Josephus on Jesus: The Death of Jesus’ Brother James

The shorter reference to Jesus in Josephus’ writings appears almost incidentally. While discussing events that took place in Jerusalem just before the outbreak of the Jewish War (in particular, the political maneuvering around the high priesthood), Josephus briefly notes that the high priest Ananus took advantage of a leadership vacuum to convene the Sanhedrin and have a man named James put to death.

To identify James more clearly, Josephus adds a phrase that has sparked centuries of scholarly interest:

Most critical scholars regard this passage as authentic, unlike the more complicated reference we’ll examine next.

As John P. Meier argues in his seminal work A Marginal Jew, there are compelling reasons to see this as a genuine statement from Josephus:

In other words, the description is too restrained (and too neutral) to have originated with a Christian scribe. Moreover, the passage is firmly embedded in the Greek manuscript tradition of Jewish Antiquities and already cited by Eusebius at the beginning of the 4th century, providing important external attestation.

While brief, this reference to “Jesus who was called Christ” is taken seriously by historians because it offers a non-Christian confirmation (however passing) that Jesus of Nazareth was known to have had a brother named James, who was publicly executed in Jerusalem.

Josephus on Jesus: Testimonium Flavianum

It’s one of the most read (and most debated) paragraphs from all of ancient literature. Hundreds of studies and posts have been written about it. Countless scholarly debates and polemical battles have been waged across centuries. When it comes to Josephus on Jesus, no passage has drawn more scrutiny, suspicion, and scholarly attention than the famous Testimonium Flavianum.

The paragraph is found in Antiquities of the Jews 18.3.3. It appears in the context of Josephus’ description of unrest under the Roman prefect Pontius Pilate. Seemingly out of nowhere, he inserts a report about a man named Jesus:

Before the rise of historical criticism in the 19th century, this passage was largely accepted at face value. Early Christian authors, such as Eusebius, quoted it approvingly, and few questioned its authenticity.

Today, scholars are, as Robert Louis Wilken explains, divided into three general camps.

#1 – Interpolation All the Way

At one end of the spectrum are those who argue that the entire passage is a later Christian interpolation, inserted wholesale by scribes who wanted to bolster the historical claims about Jesus. This view has been advocated by a minority of scholars, such as Richard Carrier.

In one of his posts, Carrier reiterates what he elaborated in the book On the Historicity of Jesus:

#2 – Authentic All the Way

On the opposite end are those who maintain that the entire paragraph comes from Josephus himself, unaltered. This is also a minority view, but some scholars, as Wolfgang A. Bienert noted, still argue for full authenticity.

#3 – Partial Interpolation Theory

The mainstream scholarly position is a middle ground, sometimes called the “partial interpolation theory.” According to this view, Josephus did originally mention Jesus in Antiquities 18, but later Christian copyists (perhaps as early as the 3rd century) modified the text to make it more theologically affirming.

When one strips away the later interpolation, this is what we get:

Why do most critical scholars accept this middle position? John P. Meier offers several compelling arguments:

#1 – The literary and stylistic flow of the paragraph is disrupted by three phrases that stand out as patently Christian: (1) “if indeed one should call him a man,” (2) “he was the Messiah,” and (3) “he appeared to them on the third day, living again.” 

Meier notes that the paragraph reads smoothly and coherently if these clauses are removed, leaving a neutral, concise report that sounds like something Josephus could have written.

#2 – The language and vocabulary of the “neutral core” differ markedly from the Greek of the New Testament but fit well with Josephus’ own style. By contrast, the three interpolated phrases contain terms closely aligned with early Christian creedal language.

#3 – The “low Christology” of the stripped-down text is entirely incompatible with what we know of early Christian theology. A crucified man remembered as a wise teacher and miracle worker (without resurrection or divine status) wouldn’t satisfy any early Christian interpolator. 

In other words, the result is too neutral, too minimalist, even too dismissive to be a Christian invention.

#4 – Testimonium Flavianum is found in all Greek manuscripts of Antiquities 18, as well as in all Latin translations made by Cassiodorus’ school in the 6th century. That suggests there was some reference to Jesus in Josephus’ original text, even if not all of it is authentic.

Additionally, Robert Louis Wilken, in his book Jesus Outside of the New Testament, provides another important insight:

Finally, it’s worth considering the existence of an alternative version of the Testimonium Flavianum, preserved in Agapius’ Universal History (a 10th-century Christian chronicle written in Arabic). 

This version closely resembles the neutral reconstruction favored by the majority of contemporary scholars, lacking the overtly Christian affirmations found in the standard Greek text.

Taken together, these considerations make the middle-ground theory not only the most academically defensible but also the most historically satisfying. It recognizes the real presence of Josephus on Jesus in this famous passage, while also acknowledging the hands of later Christian scribes who, with a few strokes of their pens, sought to make a neutral report sound like a confession of faith. 

Strip away the confessional layers, and what remains is a rare and valuable glimpse of Jesus from the pen of a Roman-era Jewish historian.

It doesn't come as a surprise that at the end of a meticulous study over the authenticity of the Testimonium Flavianum, French classicist Serge Bardet concluded that a full Christian fabrication is exceedingly unlikely. As he puts it, one would have to suppose “a talent for imitation that would scarcely have any equivalent in antiquity.” (my translation)

Conclusion

When all is said and done, the Josephus on Jesus debate invites both caution and appreciation. The writings of Josephus (especially the Antiquities of the Jews) offer a non-Christian witness that, while brief and contested, remains historically significant.

For historians, Josephus’ references provide important non-Christian evidence. Even though all of us would like more information! Wouldn’t it be great if the Jewish historian wrote more about the nascent Christian movement?! But we have what we have.

Beneath the layers of scribal enthusiasm lies a voice that neither followed Jesus nor denied his historical presence. In a field often clouded by ideological fog, such a voice is more than welcome. It’s, quite simply, invaluable.

Did the Jews Kill (or Hate) Jesus? Learn the Truth!

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

Did the Jews kill Jesus? Few questions in Christian history have been as fraught with misunderstanding — and as devastating in their consequences — as that accusation. For centuries, this claim has fueled antisemitism, violence, and deep divisions between Christianity and Judaism. But does the New Testament discuss a Jewish deicide? If so, was it the murder of God? Who were “the Jews” in the Gospel narratives, and how should we understand that term today? The answer lies not just in theology or tradition, but in language, context, and history.

In this article, I’ll explore what the Gospels really meant when they referred to the Jews, how these texts have been interpreted (and misinterpreted), and, ultimately, who was truly responsible for Jesus’ death.

The deicide definition from Merriam-Webster is an event that kills a divine being or symbolic substitute of that being. However, even that descriptor is complicated since individuals and groups attribute different characteristics to Jesus depending on if they view him as a divine being, merely a historical figure, or neither.

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Etymology: Who Are “the Jews” in the Gospels?

The Greek word translated into English as “Jews” in the New Testament is Ioudaioi. The problem with translating this word properly is that there are two distinct possibilities. For example, while “Jews” is one overarching option, the word technically meant “a person who resides in or is from the region of Judea,” the region in Palestine where Jerusalem was located. This would mean, of course, that Jesus — who came from the region of Galilee — might not have been classified as one of the Ioudaioi, but rather as a Galilean (Greek: Galilaios).

However, Adele Reinhartz points out that the issue of whether to translate Ioudaioi as “Jews” or “Judeans” is quite complicated. She notes that some scholars prefer “Judeans” because translating the word as “Jews” can fuel anti-Jewish biases. On the other hand, we have ancient references to some people called Ioudaioi who had no direct association with Judea, thus signaling a group identity outside of regionalism. Reinhartz finally concludes that

For this reason, most scholars and Bible translations still translate the word as “Jews.”

While there are certainly some positive references to the Ioudaioi  in the New Testament — see John 4:22, for instance, where Jesus says salvation originates with them — there are an overwhelming number of negative allusions to them as well. Let’s look at some of these examples.

References to the Jews in the New Testament

In the Gospel of Mark, there is really only one explicit reference to “the Jews” (if we leave out the multiple times Jesus is accused of saying he was “King of the Jews”). It appears in Mark 7:3, in which the Pharisees reproach Jesus’ disciples for eating without washing their hands for the purpose of ritual purity. The author then explains that “the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders…”

This is a mildly negative reference, since Jesus’ next words scold the Pharisees for caring more about outward purity than inward purification. Finally in Mark 15, we see that Jesus, having been arrested by the Jewish leaders known as the Sanhedrin, is handed over to Pilate to be killed.

However, it’s in Matthew’s Gospel that we begin to see the most damaging portraits of “the Jews.” This is odd, in a way, since Matthew is generally considered the most Jewish of the four Gospels.

Like Mark, Matthew’s explicit use of the word Ioudaioi is basically limited to the charge “King of the Jews” which accusers say Jesus has claimed for himself. However, in a scene just before his crucifixion, the Roman governor Pontius Pilate, about to hand Jesus over to be crucified, washes his hands, symbolically claiming to be innocent of Jesus’ blood. The crowd, who in Jerusalem must have been mostly Jews, says “His blood be on us and on our children!” This line has been used for centuries to justify all forms of antisemitism. Not only do the Jewish leaders hand Jesus over in Matthew, but even the Jewish laypeople demand his blood.

Even worse are the references to the Jews in the Gospel of John. We see them persecuting Jesus in 5:16 and plotting to kill him in 5:18. In 8:44, Jesus describes them as the children of the devil, while in John 7:12-14, we see that the people (who, again, are predominantly Jewish themselves) are afraid of the Jews:

As in the other Gospels, Pilate is reluctant to kill Jesus in John, but when the Jews insist on his execution, Pilate acquiesces. I’ve written before about how unlikely this scenario is, based on our knowledge of the ruthlessness of Pilate and how little he cared about Jewish opinions, despite what the Gospel of John says.

Since the authors of Matthew and John (and possibly the author of Mark) were Jews themselves, what is going on here?

The Intended Meaning of Ioudaioi

In The Jews and the World in the Fourth Gospel: Parallelism, Function, and Context, Lars Kierspel notes that the scholarly consensus is that all the references to “the Jews” in the Gospels refer only to the Jewish religious leaders. Furthermore, in The Gospel and Letters of John, Alan Culpepper notes that in some cases, translating Ioudaioi merely as “the Jews,” indicating all Jews, doesn’t entirely make sense:

As for the disturbing line in Matthew attributing guilt collectively to the Jews for Jesus’ death, there was something else going on there (this is not to deny the horrible effects of the misinterpretation of that line throughout history). In the Jewish Annotated New Testament, Aaron Gale writes that since the author of Matthew was writing years after the destruction of the Temple and the devastation of Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 CE, he was likely indicating that this destruction was a punishment for the Jewish people’s later refusal to accept that Jesus was the Messiah.

Now that we’ve looked at the literary aspects of whether the Jews killed Jesus, let’s look at the historical aspect. Was Jesus hated by the Jews, and if so, were they responsible for his death?

Did the Jews Hate Jesus?

Having clarified the meanings of Ioudaioi (Jews, residents of Judea, or Jewish religious leaders) in the Gospels, can we answer the question of whether the Jews hated Jesus during his lifetime? If we follow the Gospel narratives here, it seems there was a mixed reaction.

When it comes to the Pharisees and other religious leaders, we definitely see examples of hatred for Jesus in the Gospels, to the point of wanting to kill him (see John 11:53, for example). However, crowds of Jewish people seem to have loved Jesus. When he entered Jerusalem, for instance, Matthew 21:9  says he received a king’s reception:

Moreover, in Mark 2:1-12, it’s clear that huge crowds followed him adoringly, both to be healed and to hear his message. The question of whether ALL Jews hated Jesus is overly broad, and the answer is clearly no. So, did the Jews kill Jesus?

Who Killed Jesus and Why?

Why was Jesus killed? Many people throughout Christian history have tried to answer this question. Was he executed because he committed blasphemy, offending the Jewish leaders? Was he killed because he created a ruckus in the Temple? What was the real reason he was hung on a cross?

First, who, in Jesus’ time, regularly used crucifixion as a method of capital punishment? John Granger Cook notes that while the Persians and Carthaginians did, the people best known for it in the ancient world were the Romans. For this reason, Kaufman Kohler and Emil Hirsch write that  “The mode and manner of Jesus' death undoubtedly point to Roman customs and laws as the directive power.” So did the Romans kill Jesus?

Furthermore, Kohler and Hirsch note that “Among the modes of capital punishment known to the Jewish penal law, crucifixion is not found.” In other words, the only possible answer for who crucified Jesus was the Romans, not the Jews.

However, this leaves us the question of why the Romans would have executed Jesus. Why would they have considered him dangerous enough to kill?

In all four Gospels, the charge put on the cross over Jesus’ head to indicate his crime says one thing: “King of the Jews.” What this likely means is that Jesus had indeed claimed to be the true King of the Jews. As Bart Ehrman writes, “Anyone else who claimed to be king was usurping Roman prerogatives and was seen as a threat, or if not a threat, at least a public nuisance.  Romans had ways of dealing with lower-class peasants who were troublemakers and public nuisances.” This claim was a political crime, a form of sedition against Rome, for which the punishment would always be crucifixion.

Rome didn’t care about Jewish conceptions of blasphemy or conflicts between different Jewish groups. They only cared about threats to Roman rule.

The Jews, however defined, didn’t kill Jesus. The Romans did.

Conclusion

For millennia, Jews have been mistreated by Christians who believed they were justified in their behavior since “the Bible said that the Jews killed Jesus.” Despite the obvious horrors this interpretation caused, accurate readings of biblical texts rule that possibility out.

Ioudaioi, the Greek term usually translated as “Jews,” could also mean residents or natives of the region of Judea in southern Palestine. However, it’s clear that, in the Gospels, there are plenty of negative references to Ioudaioi that need explanation.

The Gospel of Mark characterizes the Jews as those who care more about the outward purity while Jesus and his followers prioritize inward, moral purity. In Matthew, a crowd of Jews scream for Jesus’ death while voluntarily taking responsibility for it. This line has caused more antisemitic reactions than any other in the Bible. In John, meanwhile, the Jews persecute Jesus and plot to kill him. But there is more here than meets the eye.

It's clear to most scholars that most of the references to “the Jews” in these writings refer only to the Jewish religious leaders. Translating every reference as “the Jews” is also nonsensical in some passages, such as when a crowd of Jews is afraid of “the Jews.” This is not to negate the centuries of suffering perpetrated upon Jews by misinterpretations of the texts.

Finally, it’s clear, both from the method of execution and the political charge, that Jesus was killed by the Romans. Although he never says it explicitly in the Gospels, he probably did call himself “King of the Jews,” a title which smacked of sedition to Rome, and likely brought the force of the occupying Roman powers down on his head.

Did the Jews kill Jesus? No. Jesus was definitely killed by the Romans.

How Many Apostles Did Jesus Have? (HINT: More Than 12!)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

How many apostles did Jesus have? This question reminds me of one of the most important lessons I learned during my graduate studies: Terms and concepts aren’t fixed entities; they are deeply tied to context and can shift in meaning over time and across cultures. 

Consider, for example, the swastika. In the context of Nazi Germany, it has become an enduring symbol of death, evil, and destruction. Yet in Hinduism, where it originated thousands of years earlier, the swastika signifies auspiciousness, good fortune, and the cosmic order.

Similarly, when we explore the names of the apostles, we’ll find that the concept of apostleship in early Christianity is far broader and more complex than many assume today.

Most people, when they hear the term “apostles,” immediately think of the disciples (Peter, James, John, and the others) who famously accompanied Jesus during his ministry. That association is understandable. The group of the Twelve held tremendous importance in the historical memory of Jesus' earliest followers and remains central to Christian tradition today.

However, if we approach the historical evidence carefully, we discover that apostleship in the 1st century wasn’t confined to this familiar group. The names of the apostles extend well beyond the Twelve, encompassing figures who never set foot among Jesus' original group, and whose roles and significance were shaped by evolving needs and perspectives within the early church.

Several excellent articles on this blog have already examined Jesus’ apostles and their crucial place in the development of early Christianity. These studies have offered valuable insights into the names of the apostles, their place within Jesus’ movement, and the stories and legends about their deaths. 

In this article, however, I want to highlight another key dimension: How the historical context of early Christianity allowed a broader application of the “apostle” category to men and women who were neither among the original Twelve nor necessarily part of Jesus’ earthly ministry.

As we’ll see, understanding how early Christians used the term "apostle" sheds light not only on the diversity of the movement but also on the fluid and dynamic ways in which authority and leadership were negotiated in its formative years.

How Many Apostles Did Jesus Have? Starting With the Etymology

The term “apostle” has its roots in the Greek language, where it originally functioned not as a noun but as an adjective. It derives from the verb apostellō (ἀποστέλλω), meaning “to send off” or “to dispatch.” From this verb came the adjective apostolos (ἀπόστολος), signifying someone who was “sent” or “dispatched” for a particular purpose.

Only later did apostolos come to be used as a substantive noun, designating a “messenger,” “emissary,” or “delegate.” In its core meaning, an apostle was someone entrusted with a mission on behalf of another, carrying authority as a representative of the one who had sent them.

Before the emergence of Christianity, the term apostolos was attested only sparingly in Greek literature. According to the Liddell-Scott-Jones Lexicon (LSJ), apostolos appears rarely and is typically used in secular contexts to denote an envoy or a bearer of a message.

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A notable example occurs in Herodotus (Histories 1.21), where the term describes emissaries dispatched by Cyrus the Great. In such pre-Christian usage, apostolos carried no specific religious connotations. Rather, it simply referred to individuals commissioned for diplomatic or communicative tasks.

However, as Ceslas Spicq has emphasized in Notes de lexicographie néo-testamentaire (Notes on New Testament Lexicography), none of these Greco-Roman meanings (whether casual or juridical) can account for the profound theological depth that apostolos acquires in the New Testament. 

Christian usage, particularly in Paul, presupposes a Semitic background, rooted in the Jewish institution of the shaliaḥ (שליח), an authorized representative whose acts legally bound the sender. It was within this Jewish conceptual framework that the early followers of Jesus reinterpreted and deepened the meaning of apostleship.

So, with the rise of the Jesus movement, apostolos acquired a distinctive theological weight. As New Testament scholar Francis Agnew notes:

In other words, far from being confined to a single generation or group, the notion of apostleship was pervasive across early Christian writings. It was a central term used by authors in diverse settings to describe those who had been commissioned to carry the message of Christ.

Understanding this background helps frame the larger question that drives our investigation: How many apostles did Jesus have?

As we’ll see in the next section, the New Testament’s application of the term extends beyond the familiar circle of the Twelve, reflecting the fluid and expanding nature of early Christian leadership and identity.

Beyond the Twelve: Other Early Apostles

During Jesus' public ministry, the term “apostle” (apostolos) likely didn’t carry the precise, formal meaning it would later acquire. As John P. Meier, in his book A Marginal Jew, has argued, "apostle" wasn’t a fixed title but rather a functional designation for individuals temporarily commissioned for a task.

The Gospels occasionally describe the Twelve being “sent out” (apostellein) by Jesus (e.g., Mark 6:30), but the focus is on their immediate mission: Preaching repentance, healing, and casting out demons, rather than establishing a permanent office.

The Twelve were primarily called “disciples” (mathētai), meaning learners or followers. The use of "apostle" to designate a stable office emerged only after Easter, when the early Jesus followers became convinced of his resurrection and the need to spread the message of the coming of the Kingdom of God.

In the post-resurrection period, the meaning of “apostle” broadened significantly. It no longer referred simply to the original Twelve but extended to a wider circle of individuals who had, in various ways, been entrusted with proclaiming the risen Christ.

Paul of Tarsus, though not one of the Twelve and indeed a former persecutor of the Church, famously insists on his apostolic status: “Paul, an apostle, not from men nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father” (Galatians 1:1).

Paul's letters contain the highest concentration of the term apostolos in the New Testament, demonstrating his commitment to defending his calling. Likewise, in Romans 16:7, Paul refers to Andronicus and Junia, “who are prominent among the apostles” (more on that in the Appendix).

Barnabas, too, is called an apostle alongside Paul in Acts 14:14, after their missionary efforts in the cities of Lystra and Derbe. Even the group of seventy (or seventy-two) disciples mentioned in Luke 10 and the 120 followers gathered in Acts 1:15 hint at a broader reservoir of commissioned witnesses.

Although not all were explicitly termed “apostles,” they formed part of a dynamic movement that understood mission and testimony as central to Christian identity.

But what precisely qualified someone to be considered an apostle? The early Jesus movement, particularly in its Pauline expressions, seemed to require two key credentials:

#1 – A commissioning by Jesus, often understood to involve some revelatory encounter
#2 – A mandate to proclaim the gospel publicly

Paul appeals to his vision of the risen Lord (Galatians 1:11-12) as the basis of his apostleship, while emphasizing that his mission was divinely authorized rather than institutionally granted.

Similarly, Acts 1:21-22 specifies that Judas’ replacement (Matthias) among the Twelve had to be someone who had accompanied Jesus from the beginning and could bear witness to the resurrection. 

In short, apostleship entailed being sent by Jesus with a public, authoritative mission to proclaim his message.

As Ceslas Spicq explains, reflecting on the famous list in 1 Corinthians 15:5-8:

This observation highlights Paul’s early observation that apostleship extended beyond the rigid circle of the Twelve and included a broader, Spirit-endowed ministry validated by encounter with the risen Lord and missionary service. 

However, the concept of apostleship in the early Church was far from uniform. Different authors and communities held varying understandings of what it meant to be an apostle, leading at times to conflict and sharp polemics. Later Gospel writers provide clear examples of this diversity.

The author of Luke’s Gospel, for instance, closely identified the disciples of Jesus during his earthly ministry with the Twelve, effectively creating the category of the “Twelve Apostles.” In Luke’s conception, apostleship was restricted to those who had accompanied Jesus from the beginning and witnessed his resurrection.

This framework had significant implications: It excluded figures such as Paul from being recognized as apostles in the full sense. 

For Luke, the Twelve Apostles emerged as the foundational leaders of the Jerusalem church, while missionaries and later emissaries, even if crucial to the movement’s expansion, were generally not called apostles.

However, Paul, as already noted, had a different notion in mind. Hans D. Betz explains:

Thus, when asking “How many apostles did Jesus have?” it becomes clear that any simple numerical answer is insufficient. While the number twelve (probably going back to the historical Jesus) was symbolically crucial (representing the twelve tribes of Israel and the renewed people of God), the category of apostle soon expanded beyond this foundational group.

As the early Christian movement spread and adapted to new contexts, the meaning of apostleship evolved to include a wide range of figures: Not only the institutional Twelve but also charismatic leaders, missionaries, church founders, and witnesses to the resurrection.

However, it would be a mistake to imagine that all early Christians agreed on a single definition of what it meant to be an apostle. On the contrary, sharp differences emerged, crafting the future of the nascent movement.

In the end, the question “How many apostles did Jesus have” invites us to look beyond static lists toward the living and often contested tradition of the early Church. Apostleship was not simply a matter of formal membership in an exclusive group; it was a vibrant, evolving response to the experience of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.

Appendix: A Female as an Apostle: Resistance and Rejections in the Early Church

Instead of a formal conclusion you might be expecting, I decided to switch things up a little bit here. In this final section, I want to briefly highlight one of the more intriguing developments in the history of biblical interpretation, what might best be called the Curious Case of Junia.

It offers a striking example of how cultural (patriarchal) assumptions, rather than neutral analysis, sometimes shaped how early Christian figures were remembered, or forgotten.

In Romans 16:7, Paul sends greetings to Andronicus and Junia (probably a married couple), praising them as “prominent among the apostles.” For nearly a thousand years, no one in the Church seems to have doubted that Junia was a woman and an apostle.

Early commentators such as Origen, John Chrysostom, and others all assumed she was female. Chrysostom even marveled at her achievement, writing, “Oh, how great is the devotion of this woman, that she should be counted worthy of the title of apostle!”

However, the story takes a surprising turn much later in history. As Eldon Epp shows in his book Junia: The First Woman Apostle, it was only in the later medieval period, especially with the influence of Martin Luther’s translation and later critical editions, that Junia was transformed into a man.

Motivated by the belief that a woman could not possibly have held the title of apostle, scholars and translators began to subtly alter the tradition. Some introduced the idea of a male “Junias,” even though such a name is unattested in any Greek or Latin texts of the period. 

Critical Greek editions of the New Testament, starting with Eberhard Nestle’s 1927 edition (an influential scholarly reconstruction of the Greek text used for Bible translations), began to favor the masculine reading without substantial manuscript evidence, and some English translations followed suit.

Today, careful examination of the textual and historical evidence has largely reversed this error. As Epp and many others have demonstrated, the objective data (early manuscripts, early Church commentary, and Roman naming practices) consistently point toward Junia being a woman, recognized as an apostle by Paul himself.

In recovering her rightful place, scholars remind us of an important lesson: Our interpretations of the past are often shaped by the assumptions of our own time. But when we return honestly to the sources, voices once muted can speak again.

Was Jesus (Really) a Carpenter? Maybe Not!

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

Was Jesus a carpenter? The image of Jesus as a humble carpenter has become deeply ingrained in Christian tradition, exemplifying his connection to everyday working people and his unassuming origins. But how solid is the biblical foundation for this familiar portrayal? What did the term “carpenter” mean in the ancient world? Could it just as easily refer to another kind of manual labor if we explore Greek translations? And what does Jesus’ possible trade tell us about his social status and the world he inhabited?

In this article I’ll examine the evidence — biblical, linguistic, and archaeological — to explore what it really means to say Jesus was a carpenter, and whether that title is supported by the historical record.

Where in the Bible Does It Say Jesus was a Carpenter?

Unfortunately, our evidence for Jesus being a carpenter is extremely scanty, comprised of only two terse references, in fact. Mark, our earliest written Gospel, gives us the clearest evidence, in 6:2-3. In these verses, Jesus and his disciples visit Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth. On the Sabbath, Jesus goes into the synagogue and teaches, prompting amazement and resentment from the locals among whom he had been raised:

The shock and indignance of Jesus’ hometown crowd seems to indicate two things. First, they did not remember him as being particularly wise or impressive when he lived there as a child and young man. They even name his family members as if to say, “He was just a normal local boy. What happened to him?”

Second, they remember him as having a particular profession, a carpenter in most English translations (more on that later). The fact the locals are surprised that a carpenter can be so extraordinary seems to indicate people in that profession were not expected to be sages or religious teachers. In other words, carpentry was not considered a high-status job.

Scholars know that the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, written at least a decade after Mark, used Mark as a principal source, changing some details and often adding new ones. In this case, Matthew 13:54-56 tells the same story of Jesus being rejected by the people of his hometown, but changes slightly how they remember him:

How do we account for the difference between “carpenter” in Mark and “the carpenter’s son” in Matthew? One possibility is that while Mark felt comfortable saying that Jesus had been a carpenter, traditions about Jesus tended to exalt him more and more over the years. So, by the time Matthew was written, it seemed impossible for Jesus, the Messiah and Son of God, to have such a humble profession himself. Either way, in Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography, John Dominic Crossan notes that, in some ways, the two assertions amount to the same thing, since in the ancient world, sons almost always did the same work as their fathers.

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These verses in Mark and Matthew are all the biblical evidence there is for Jesus as a carpenter. Luke and John don’t talk about it, nor does Paul or any other NT author. For this reason, in order to determine the likelihood that Jesus really was a carpenter before beginning his ministry, we’ll need to do some historical work, first on the etymology of the original Greek word translated as carpenter and then on the economy of ancient Roman Palestine.

Was Jesus a Carpenter or Something Else?

The biblical Greek word usually translated as carpenter is tektōn. While “carpenter” is certainly one possible translation, there are others, opening up possibilities for what Jesus’ early profession might have been. A look into the Cambridge Greek Lexicon shows us that while tektōn can mean “a builder in wood, or a joiner,” it can also mean “a skilled worker in other materials, a craftsman.” This could include being a stonemason or even a sculptor. While it’s unlikely (as we will see) that someone raised in Nazareth would be a professional sculptor, it is entirely possible he was a stonemason.

However, whether we translate the word as carpenter or stonemason, we should be wary of importing modern ideas about those professions onto their ancient counterparts. In the modern world, a carpenter is a skilled, lucrative, and respected middle-class profession. But Crossan says this wasn’t the case in Jesus’ time and place. He notes that in Roman-controlled Palestine, economic inequality was brutal, and that the social distinction between rich and poor often meant distinguishing between those who had to work with their hands (the poor) and those who didn’t (the elite).

It's not that carpenters and stonemasons were not skilled. It’s just that in the ancient hierarchy of skills, manual labor was always less valued by the elite, those in control, than mental labor. In other words, carpenters and stonemasons generally lived in poverty, a hand-to-mouth existence. To understand this further, let’s look at the economy of ancient Palestine and, specifically, that of a tiny hamlet like Nazareth.

It’s About the Economy!

In The New Testament World, Bruce J. Malina writes that Palestine and other Roman provinces were “a nearly perfect example of what anthropologists call classic peasant society: a set of villages socially bound up with administrative preindustrial cities.” In his book Jesus and the Peasants, Douglas Oakman defines what this meant:

So peasants were those who labored constantly but could never get ahead because so much of the fruits of their labor were given, usually through taxation, to wealthy landowners who typically lived in large cities such as Jerusalem. And as we’ll see, Nazareth was most definitely a small village, not a city.

First-century Palestine was a typical agrarian society. In Christian Origins: A People's History Of Christianity, Steven Friesen explains that this means wealth was almost completely based on land ownership and that most of the land was controlled by a tiny number of elite families. The wealth of these families also meant they had undue influence on the politics of the region, allowing them to profit from taxation of the peasantry as well.

Friesen estimates that 40% of people in the Roman provinces, including Palestine, lived “at subsistence level and often below minimum level to sustain life.” Among those in this situation, Friesen places small families of farmers, laborers (skilled and unskilled), artisans (such as carpenters or stonemasons), and fishermen. If indeed Jesus was a carpenter or stonemason, he and his family were barely able to keep their heads above water.

In a rural village like Nazareth, were carpentry or masonry common professions? In Archaeology, the Rabbis, & Early Christianity, Eric Meyers and James Strange note that Nazareth in Jesus’ time was a village of only 400-500 people. It was so small, in fact, that it’s not even mentioned in Jewish sources until the 3rd century CE, according to an article by James Strange in the Anchor Bible Dictionary.

While many people in small villages worked as fishermen, Nazareth was 23 miles from the Mediterranean Sea and 19 miles from the Sea of Galilee, making it all but impossible to commute daily on foot. Instead, people from Nazareth would probably have been either artisans or workers on surrounding farms.

While people have speculated for years that Jesus did his early carpentry in the nearby city of Sepphoris, a significantly larger and more Roman-influenced town than Nazareth, recent archeology puts that conclusion in doubt. Archeologist Ken Dark writes that the Galilean region which included Nazareth “was unusual for the strength of its anti-Roman sentiment and/or the strength of its Jewish identity.” Furthermore, he notes that the archeological evidence shows that it’s likely that “there was no close connection between Nazareth and Sepphoris in the Early Roman period.”

If Jesus was indeed a carpenter, what kind of work would he have done in and around Nazareth? In her book Papyri and the Social World of the New Testament, Sabine R. Heubner writes that ancient carpenters made many items for local people, including wagons, yokes for oxen, oil mills, and boats. These would have been useful for the Galilean peasantry and did not require any contact with Roman forces or culture.

Heubner also says that while it’s difficult to know how much a carpenter was generally paid, since elite writers paid little attention to the lower classes, an ancient lease agreement for an oil mill shows that the carpenter that worked on it received 50 denarii a month working for an elite owner. When working for poor farmers or tradespeople, though, carpenters might have merely traded their services for goods or services they needed.

In other words, in a village as small as Nazareth, it is plausible that Jesus could have grown up to be a carpenter. In addition, since carpentry was not a high-status profession in the ancient world, it seems difficult to imagine that the author of Mark would invent this detail for Jesus. Instead, it’s likely that memories of Jesus’ humble origins had long circulated and thus, his early life as a tradesman was common knowledge.

Some common misconceptions are that Jesus was a fisherman or shepherd. We already established earlier that it was unlikely he was a fisherman due to  geographic reasons. Although the New Testament calls him “the Good Shepherd (John 10:11),” this is a metaphorical title and there is no evidence that Jesus himself was a shepherd.

Conclusion

Was Jesus a carpenter? Our analysis began with the unfortunate fact that there are only two references in the entire New Testament indicating this possibility. In Mark, he is called “the carpenter” by the people among whom he grew up. In Matthew, this is changed to “the carpenter’s son.” However, that is an almost meaningless distinction since the son of a carpenter would, in normal circumstances, have been a carpenter as well. What other evidence is there, then, that Jesus could have been a carpenter?

Etymologically, the Greek word translated as carpenter — tektōn — denoted a skilled builder who could have worked with wood, but also possibly with stone or other materials. Both carpenters and stonemasons were ubiquitous in the ancient world, so either is possible as a correct translation.

While we may think of carpenters as skilled, highly-respectable professionals, in the ancient world they would have been consigned by the elite to that massive lower echelon of the economy reserved for those who worked with their hands. If Jesus was a carpenter, he was not a member of the elite. Instead, he and his family would have lived at a subsistence level.

Finally, having seen that Nazareth, Jesus’ hometown, was a tiny village located far from large bodies of water, it is likely that a young man would have been involved in a trade such as carpentry or masonry in order to make a living. We can never be entirely certain, but there is no reason not to believe Jesus was a carpenter before his ministry began.

Was Jesus a Rabbi?

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The question of whether Jesus was a rabbi is more complex than it may first appear. It requires us to explore historical contexts and the evolving definitions of terms over time. While the title "rabbi" is often associated with Jewish teachers and religious leaders, its usage in the time of Jesus differs significantly from how we understand it today.

Was Jesus a rabbi? In this article, I’ll investigate the meaning and historical development of the term "rabbi." By analyzing the Gospels, I’ll explore why Jesus might have been addressed as "Rabbi" and consider whether this title accurately reflects his role in the Jewish society of his time. To do this, I’ll also look into the title's historical significance and how it relates to others ascribed to Jesus (for instance, was Jesus a rabbi or a carpenter?)

The Meaning of the Word Rabbi

The word “rabbi” is derived from the Hebrew word rav. In early uses of the word in the Hebrew Bible, it was simply a term of respect or honor. The HarperCollins Bible Dictionary notes that this sense of the word can be found in 2 Kings 18:17 and 2 Kings 25:8, where it’s used to mean something like “chief” or “officer” rather than its later meaning of “teacher.” In the Hebrew Bible, by the way, the term is not used to mean teacher, which is instead denoted by the Hebrew word mō·w·rāy.

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However, by the New Testament period, there had clearly been a shift from its original meaning, as it seems to have been used only to mean “teacher” in a religious sense. In the Gospels, Jesus is called “Rabbi” 15 times (for example, Mark 9:5; Mark 11:21; Mark 14:45; John 1:38) and is also addressed twice using the Aramaic equivalent “Rabbouni,” since Aramaic was the language of Jesus and his disciples (Mark 10:51; John 20:16). Interestingly, in Matthew, only Judas calls Jesus “Rabbi,” while the other disciples call him “Lord.” The HarperCollins Bible Dictionary notes that in the New Testament, only Matthew, Mark, and John use the term Rabbi.

It's also significant that in Jesus’ time, and even in contemporary Judaism, a rabbi has never been a priest. In the Second Temple period in which Jesus lived (539 BCE-70 CE), priests were responsible for the administration of the Temple, as well as the performance of sacrificial rites. The term “rabbi” is not found in literature from this period. For example, Hillel and Shammai, two early and foundational Jewish sages who lived in the late 1st century BCE and the 1st century CE, were never called rabbis. So why was Jesus addressed with this term in three of the Gospels?

It's important to remember that although Jesus lived from approximately 6 BCE to 30 CE, Mark, our earliest Gospel, wasn’t written until 70 CE — around the time the Temple was destroyed by the Romans. This destruction of this holy building had a profound effect on Judaism. Without a Temple, there was no sacred space in which priests could perform sacrifices; sacrifices were only allowed to be performed in the Temple.

In the wake of this devastating change, rabbinic Judaism would change the focus of Judaism from the Temple and sacrifice to the study and interpretation of the Jewish Law exclusively. Thus, rabbis became the main spiritual authorities, focusing on the texts of the Hebrew Bible and writing voluminous commentaries on them in texts like the Mishna and the Talmud.

When Jesus is called “Rabbi” in the Gospels, it is a reflection of that post-destruction period in which the Gospel authors all lived and wrote. This is not to say that rabbis didn’t exist before this, but the term took on a new level of authority with the destruction of the Temple.

Was Jesus a Rabbi?

Given the above information, asking if Jesus was a rabbi is a bit more complicated than it seems. In fact, the answer comes down to both history and definitions.

What was a rabbi in Jesus’ time? In one sense, it is an anachronism to think of Jesus as a rabbi in the sense we generally mean today. Rabbis, starting in the post-Temple-destruction period and continuing today, have been highly trained and highly literate specialists in the interpretation of the texts of the Torah and its commentaries. Since only about 10% of all people in Jesus’ time could read, and since Jesus apparently came from a working class background (he is called a tekton — carpenter or craftsman — in Mark 6:3) it seems unlikely he would have been among the literate, despite the synagogue episode in which he reads in Luke 4:16-30.

In fact, as Rabbi Jack Abramowitz writes, “The title ‘rabbi’ really only started in the second generation of Tannaim [rabbinic sages from the late 1st and early 2nd century CE], so nobody in Jesus’ day was a ‘rabbi.’” This is an important point; in Jesus’ time, “rabbi” was not yet an official role within the religious establishment. Additionally, a rabbi, as we use the term today, also means someone on whom authority is bestowed by another rabbi. There is no sign of this process of ordination with Jesus.

Nevertheless, since the term rabbi denotes both “master” and “teacher” and since, as Rabbi Abramowitz notes, the term certainly did exist in Jesus’ time, it is valid to say that he was a rabbi of sorts. What was a rabbi in Jesus’ time? Since Jesus did teach some people in a religious context, he may have been addressed by them as “Rabbi.” By the way, John the Baptist is also called “Rabbi” in John 3:26. Like Jesus, he was a religious teacher and could therefore correctly be called a rabbi, albeit without the authority accorded to rabbis in later decades.

Finally, keep in mind that since the Gospels were written decades after Jesus’ actual lifetime, they reflected a different time in history when rabbis held much more authority than they had when he lived.

How Does the Term Rabbi Compare with Jesus’ Other Titles?

I’ve already acknowledged that the word rabbi in its earliest Hebrew Bible sense was simply a term of respect or honor. This is certainly appropriate as something Jesus’ disciples might have called him, although they definitely thought of him as their teacher as well. But how does the term rabbi accord with other terms ascribed to Jesus in the NT?

One of the words most often used to address Jesus in the Gospels is “Lord” (Greek: kyrios). In his book How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from Galilee, Bart Ehrman points out that we have a bit of a translation problem with this term. In Psalm 110:1, for example, most English Bible translations say this:

However, in Hebrew, the two “lords” in this passage are different words. The first is YHWH, the name of God which Jews traditionally do not pronounce because of its holiness. The second lord, however, is the Hebrew word “Adonai,” a word that is often used for God but can also be used, for example, as a term with which a slave addresses his or her master. Since we know that the term “rabbi” originated as a kind of honorific outside of a religious context, “Lord” makes sense as an honorific equivalent, although without the connotation of teacher.

What about the term “messiah,” another title used for Jesus in the NT? The word messiah (Hebrew: mashiach) literally means “anointed one.” In the Hebrew Bible, anointing someone — ritually pouring oil on their heads — signifies that God has given his favor to them in their role as priest or king. For some Jews in Jesus’ time, however, the term came to be used solely to mean someone who would come to save Israel from its oppressors.

So was this term an equivalent of “rabbi”? It was not, because the two terms existed in different domains. The messiah was meant to be a salvific hero, either in the original sense of a warrior king who would defeat Israel’s enemies, or in the later NT sense as a person who saves people from sin. In that second sense, a rabbi could be the messiah, but it certainly wasn’t necessary.

Jesus was also called “Son of Man” in the Gospels. This term, like the term “messiah,” was a reference to a salvific figure. It is found in Daniel 7:13-14, where it means a heavenly being who would be sent by God to lead Israel to victory over its enemies. The Son of Man in this sense was too celestial a being to be a mere teacher, as a rabbi would have been. While Jesus may have been both, there is no linguistic equivalency between the two terms.

Finally, since we’ve already mentioned Jesus being called by the Greek term tekton in Mark 6:3, how does this accord with the term rabbi? While tekton is almost always translated into English as “carpenter,” the Cambridge Greek Lexicon notes that while it could mean a builder with wood, it could also be someone who works with other building materials like stone or brick. So was Jesus a rabbi or a carpenter? In this case, Mark 6:3 is the perfect illustration of the difference between a rabbi and a builder in the eyes of a 1st-century audience.

In Mark 6, Jesus returns to his hometown of Nazareth and teaches in the synagogue, displaying remarkable wisdom and thus surprising the townspeople with whom he grew up. In Mark 6:2-3 we see their reaction:

Why were they so offended at Jesus’ wisdom and power? Because the role of teacher in a synagogue was a role of honor. Jesus was known to them as a builder, a carpenter or mason. This was certainly a respectable way to make a living, but not expected to be equivalent in wisdom or power to one who could teach with authority in the synagogue. In other words, the term “carpenter” would not have been considered the equal of the term rabbi.

Conclusion

Was Jesus a rabbi? As we’ve seen, the term rabbi in the sense we think of it today did not have the same authority in Jesus’ time. A rabbi in his time was a person who was an honored teacher, like a Pharisee. However, the Gospel accounts in which we find Jesus being called this were written in a later time.

For Jews, the term rabbi came to mean something more authoritative and religiously significant, primarily after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE. Religious authority originally rested within the Temple, the place where God was said to dwell and where priests performed sacrifices. However, after the destruction of this Temple, Judaism moved almost exclusively toward a focus on the study and interpretation of the Jewish Law.

Given this, we could say that Jesus was a rabbi in that he taught and was honored by his followers. However, since rabbinic Judaism didn’t really begin until decades after Jesus’ death, the title is somewhat anachronistic. It is, however, equivalent in its honorific sense to other terms of respect common in Jesus’ time, including lord. It is not, however, equivalent to others, such as messiah and son of man, both of which denote a specific role not involved with teaching.

The Crucifixion of Jesus (1,000 Word Summary)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

“Even if death is set before us,” Cicero wrote, “we may die in freedom. But the executioner, the veiling of heads, and the very word ‘cross,’ let them all be far removed from not only the bodies of Roman citizens but even from their thoughts, their eyes, and their ears.”

In the Roman world, crucifixion wasn’t merely a form of execution; it was a spectacle of shame, a punishment so degrading that even its mention was considered offensive. 

And yet, decades later, the apostle Paul would write about the crucifixion of Jesus, “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God… we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles”. For Paul, this event wasn’t a mark of failure but of divine power and victory. 

What happened in between? How did an instrument of torture and disgrace become the central symbol of a faith that would spread across the Roman Empire and beyond? The crucifixion of Jesus, one of the most well-documented events in the early Christian tradition, stands at the heart of this paradox.

In this article, we’ll describe the final hours of Jesus’ life, reconstructing a historical narrative of his arrest, trial, and execution based on the Gospel accounts. 

We’ll also consider what historians say about this pivotal event, reflecting on why Jesus’ crucifixion is widely regarded as one of the most historically certain details of his life.

However, before we begin I want to tell you about a great opportunity to learn more about the origins of Christianity!

Join Bart D. Ehrman’s excellent course “The Genius of Mark: Jesus the Secret Messiah”. In it Dr. Ehrman provides a scholarly analysis of our earliest Gospel, shedding light on the way Jesus was envisioned and remembered by a mysterious author who compiled his work a couple of decades after Jesus’ death.

A Summary of Crucifixion Story Details

Jesus’ death by crucifixion is mentioned in all four Gospels. Since the specifics vary between accounts, we’ll sketch the story by drawing from all four, capturing the central narrative without analyzing the historical accuracy of specific scenes — that will come in the next section. 

For now, we’ll simply recount the story of the most famous crucified victim in the history of mankind. To put it bluntly, we’ll present the summary of the crucifixion story! 

It all began with betrayal after Jesus entered Jerusalem to celebrate Passover with his disciples.  After the Last Supper, Judas, one of Jesus’ twelve disciples, conspired with the religious authorities to hand him over. How exactly Judas betrayed Jesus remains an open scholarly question. 

In any case, as Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas arrived with an armed crowd sent by the chief priests. He identified Jesus with a kiss, leading to his immediate arrest. Taken before the Jewish council, Jesus was accused of blasphemy and condemned.

By morning, he was brought to the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, who, despite questioning Jesus and finding no clear charge against him, ultimately handed him over to be crucified.

The Gospels actually depict Pilate’s role in different ways. In the Synoptic Gospels, he is increasingly reluctant but ultimately yields to the demands of the crowd, washing his hands as a symbolic act of distancing himself from the execution. 

In Luke’s Gospel, for instance, Pilate even sends Jesus to Herod Antipas, who mocks him but doesn’t issue a sentence and turns Jesus back to Pilate. In John’s Gospel, Pilate engages in a philosophical exchange with Jesus about the truth and kingship. 

However, all four accounts agree that, in the end, Plate authorized the execution. Consequently, Jesus was beaten, mocked by Roman soldiers, and forced to carry his cross to the execution site.

There, in Golgotha, he was nailed to the cross alongside two criminals. The Gospel accounts, as Bart D. Ehrman notes in his book Jesus Interrupted, describe various figures at the scene — his mother, a group of women followers, and some onlookers who jeered at him.

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Above his head, a sign read, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” As he suffered, he spoke different words (depending on which Gospel you read) that would be remembered for centuries. He pleaded with God to forgive his executioners, cried out in despair, and finally, commend his spirit to God.

After hours of agony, Jesus breathed his last. According to the Synoptic Gospels, the sky darkened, the earth shook, and the temple curtain was torn in two – a symbolic moment that later Christian tradition saw as the end of the old covenant.

As Richard T. France notes in his Commentary on Matthew:

With his death, the crucifixion of Jesus was complete. His body was taken down and placed in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea before the Sabbath began. In the eyes of the Roman and Jewish authorities, his story had come to an end.

Yet for his followers, this was only the beginning of a new faith. We do not know exactly when, but sometime after Jesus’ death — days, weeks, or even months — some of his closest disciples became convinced that God had raised him.

With this belief in Jesus’ resurrection, a small sect within Judaism set out on a path that would eventually lead to the formation of a new religion: Christianity.

Scholarly Insights Into the Crucifixion of Jesus

“Jesus’ death by crucifixion under Pontius Pilate,” John D. Crossan writes, “is as sure as anything historical can ever be. For if no follower of Jesus had written anything for one hundred years after his crucifixion, we would still know about him from two authors, not among his supporters.”

Yet, while the crucifixion of Jesus is one of the most historically certain aspects of his life, that doesn’t mean all the details surrounding his final days, as recorded in the Gospels, are historically reliable.

The Gospels aren’t biographies in the modern sense but theologically driven narratives written between 35 and 65 years after Jesus' death. Their authors didn’t personally know Jesus; they were later Christians who compiled stories about his life and death, relying primarily on oral traditions that had circulated for decades.

As a result, discrepancies and contradictions exist among the accounts, making it impossible for historians to take them at face value. Instead, scholars apply rigorous historical methodologies to discern which aspects of the Gospel narratives may reflect genuine historical events.

One of the key moments leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus was his arrival in Jerusalem. As Bart D. Ehrman argues in Jesus Before the Gospels, the Gospel accounts of his so-called “triumphal entry” are filled with dramatic embellishments.

While it is likely that Jesus did travel to Jerusalem for Passover, as many Jewish pilgrims did, his arrival was almost certainly more modest than the Gospels describe. His actions in the Temple may also have been exaggerated. Scholars (e.g. E.P. Sanders) generally agree that, at most, Jesus may have caused a minor disturbance — often interpreted as “enacted parable.”

However, his proclamation of the imminent arrival of the Kingdom of God likely alarmed Jewish religious authorities (Sadducees), who were intent on preserving stability and avoiding any potential revolt against Roman rule.

The precise reasons for Jesus’ arrest remain uncertain. The Gospel accounts claim that Judas Iscariot betrayed him to the Jewish authorities, but the motives behind this act are debated.

Regardless, Jesus was handed over to the Jewish high priest Caiaphas, though what transpired in that meeting is impossible to verify. The accounts claim that only Jesus and the Jewish leaders were present, making it unclear how any details of their exchange would have been preserved.

What is certain, however, is that the Jewish authorities deemed Jesus a threat and transferred him to Pontius Pilate.

Christopher M. Tuckett’s book Crucified: The Christian Invention of the Jewish Executioners of Jesus demonstrates how Pilate is progressively depicted as more innocent in the Christian tradition. Historically, however, there is little reason to believe Pilate would have struggled with condemning Jesus.

If Jesus had proclaimed the coming of a different “Kingdom,” this would have been perceived by Rome as a form of sedition — an offense punishable by death. As such, after what was likely a brief trial, Pilate sentenced Jesus to death by crucifixion, a punishment typically preceded by severe flogging.

What happened after the crucifixion of Jesus remains a subject of debate among scholars. 

John D. Crossan and Bart Ehrman argue that the traditional burial story is a later invention, suggesting that Jesus’ body was likely left on the cross or thrown into a shallow pit to be scavenged by animals — a fate common for crucified victims in the Roman world.

On the other hand, scholars such as Dale C. Allison and Craig A. Evans contend that the account of Joseph of Arimathea securing Jesus’ body for burial holds credibility under historical scrutiny.

The debate remains unresolved, and rather than drawing definitive conclusions, the best approach is to engage with both perspectives and evaluate the arguments for yourself.

Conclusion

The crucifixion of Jesus is one of the most historically certain events of his life, yet the Gospel accounts tell the story in different ways. They describe his betrayal by Judas, his trial before the Jewish authorities and Pontius Pilate, and his eventual execution at Golgotha.

Historians broadly agree that Jesus was executed under Pilate but view many elements of the Gospel accounts as later theological interpretations rather than strict historical records. 

Scholars debate whether Jesus' entry into Jerusalem and his actions in the Temple were as dramatic as described, and they question how much influence the Jewish authorities actually had in his condemnation.

The fate of his body after death also remains uncertain, with some arguing he was left unburied while others see the burial story as plausible. Finally, as with much of ancient history, the crucifixion of Jesus raises as many questions as it answers, leaving scholars and readers to weigh the evidence for themselves.

What Time Did Jesus Die? (The Answer Might Surprise You)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The question of the exact time when Jesus died on the cross is actually quite complicated. While many are familiar with the accounts of his crucifixion, the precise time of his death remains unclear to some Bible readers — especially when considering the context of ancient timekeeping methods.

So what time did Jesus die? In this article, I’ll answer that question by exploring ancient time-measurement methods and then examining how these methods influenced the Gospel narratives surrounding Jesus’ death. By understanding this background, we can better interpret the timing of this pivotal event in history.

Time Measurement in the Ancient World

In order to answer the question of precisely what time Jesus died on the cross, we must first understand how time was measured in his historical time and location. There were no watches and no precise mechanical clocks then, so how did people measure the hours of the day?

In the ancient Jewish context in which Jesus lived and died, the time of daylight was divided into 12 units called hours (Greek: hōrai). So far, that sounds like our modern system. However, since there were no precise clocks, the duration of an hour was not entirely fixed. In his book Roman Pompeii: Space and Society, for example, Ray Laurence notes that in the ancient Mediterranean world, an hour in midwinter would only last about 45 minutes since the daylight time is shorter. An hour in midsummer, on the other hand, would last about 75 minutes since there was more daylight time.

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So how did ancient people refer to the times of the day? Our modern system of hours begins measuring each new day at midnight. Midnight to 1:00 is the first hour of the day, 1:00 to 2:00 is the second hour of the day, etc. However, while the Roman system of time measurement similarly marked the first hour of a new day at midnight, in Time and Process in Ancient Judaism, Sacha Stern writes that the Jewish system designated the first hour of the day at dawn, usually somewhere around 6:00 AM for us. They would call this the 1st hour, remembering, of course, that the duration of an hour was flexible and depended on the seasons and amount of daylight.

This variability of hours also meant that all specified times of the day were approximate rather than precise. If you were told to arrive somewhere “at the 9th hour,” there was no precise time corresponding to this designation. Instead, people made rough estimates of when that time was according to the position of the sun and arrived about that time. This meant that they couldn’t consider someone late unless they had missed the time by at least a few hours.

To sum all this up, what was called the 1st  hour in ancient Palestine occurred at about 6:00 AM. That meant that the 6th hour was around noon. Sunset was the 12th hour or around 6:00 PM. Therefore, when we read ancient accounts of times of the day, we have to translate those hours into rough estimates of what modern time each hour would correspond to, including the season since that affected the length of each hour.

Having explained the way time was measured and designated in Jesus’ world, I’ll now look at the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion and see what time they say he died. Remember, by the way, that we have no eyewitness accounts of the crucifixion. Instead, we have oral traditions passed down through generations and written down decades after Jesus died. However, since  the Gospels are the only ancient sources that talk about what time Jesus died, that’s all we have to go on.

What Time Was Jesus Crucified in the Gospel of Mark?

Since Mark is our earliest written Gospel, it’s a good place to start this investigation. Mark refers to specific times of the day leading up to and including Jesus’ crucifixion. Also, since Jesus’ crucifixion happened in the spring (probably in April), we know that the length of hours roughly corresponded to the length of our standard modern hours:

“As soon as it was morning” most likely indicates the 1st hour, or about 6:00 in the morning. We don’t know how long the council would have met, but since they’d also gathered the night before in Mark’s story, it was probably a brief meeting, and Jesus would have arrived at the court of Pilate between 7:00 and 8:00 AM.

As I said above, the first hour was about 6:00 in the morning. This means that the 3rd hour was about 9:00 in the morning. In fact, the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition actually just says “nine o’ clock in the morning” in its translation just to make things clear to modern readers. Keep in mind, though, that this was when they first put Jesus on the cross, not when he died. Death by crucifixion was as slow as it was tortuous.

So if the 3rd hour was 9:00 AM, the 6th hour was noon. At noon, darkness fell over the land for three hours. At the 9th hour, or 3:00 PM, Jesus cried out his last words and soon died. According to Mark, then, Jesus died at about 3:00 PM.

What Time Did Jesus Die in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke?

If you’ve read many of the previous posts on this website, you probably know that Matthew, Mark, and Luke are called the Synoptic Gospels. The word “synoptic“ is derived from a Greek word meaning “seen together” because the three Gospels share a lot of the same material. Since scholars know that Mark was written before Matthew and Luke, they assume that Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source. This doesn’t mean that Mark was their only source — there is some material in both Gospels that is independent of Mark — but when they used Mark, they most often copied whole sections word for word. This is the case with most of the chronology of Mark, as well as some of the descriptions of the crucifixion.

Although neither Matthew nor Luke say what time Jesus was first placed on the cross, they both agree with the other two times Mark mentions.

True to form, then, Matthew and Luke agree with their source Mark that Jesus died around 3:00 in the afternoon.

What Time Did Jesus Die on the Cross in the Gospel of John?

Since John didn’t use Mark as a source (although there is some debate about this), his timeline of Jesus’ life is often quite different from the Synoptics. In John, for instance, Jesus’ Cleansing of the Temple, in which he drives out the money-changers, happens at the beginning of his ministry. This happens at the end of the Synoptics’ version, on the other hand, and seems to precipitate Jesus’ arrest. In addition, John contains miracle stories — like the turning of water to wine — which the other three do not.

As you might expect, then, John’s chronology of the crucifixion is a bit different, as well:

Unlike in Mark, Jesus is presented to the crowd by Pilate at noon. By noon in Mark (and presumably in Matthew and Luke as well), Jesus had already been on the cross for three hours. We can presume, then, that John’s Jesus died later than Mark’s, although the Gospel of John is not specific about the exact hour Jesus died.

However, in “The History and Pathology of Crucifixion,” F.P. Retief and L. Cilliers write that death by crucifixion could take anywhere from six hours to four days. Although John is generally silent on the matter of the time of death, it was presumably before sundown since it was the day before the Sabbath, which began at sundown, and bodies had to be taken down before the Sabbath. However, Mark says it took six hours, with Jesus dying at about 3:00 in the afternoon. Since that time frame accords with Retief and Cilliers’ assessment of how long crucifixions lasted, it’s safe to say that Jesus probably died around 3:00 PM.

Conclusion

Ancient people didn’t have the luxury of measuring the hours of the day as precisely as we can. Instead, they generally divided up the daylight time into twelve units they called hours, with the hours lasting different lengths depending on how long daylight lasted.

Jews started measuring the hours with the 1st hour at dawn, corresponding roughly to our 6:00 AM. The day then concluded with the 12th hour, about 6:00 PM. This is how times of the day are referred to throughout the New Testament.

What time did Jesus die? Mark says that he was placed on the cross at the 3rd hour, or 9:00 AM. At the 6th hour, or noon, he says that darkness fell over the land, lasting until the 9th hour, or 3:00 PM, when Jesus finally gave up the ghost. Matthew and Luke, following Mark’s timeline, agree that the time of Jesus’ death was 3:00 PM.

John, although he doesn’t actually say what time Jesus was crucified, does say that at noon — the 6th hour — Pilate was still trying him. However, when he died, it must have been before dark since the Sabbath would begin at nightfall and no dead bodies could be left unburied.

Since we have some medical information that crucifixion usually took at least six hours, it is safest to accept Mark’s timeline: Jesus died at about 3:00 in the afternoon.

Examining Jesus' Family Tree (CHART)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

Have you ever traced your family tree, looking for information on your ancestors? Most people in the contemporary world haven’t! For many, these issues carry little to no importance in their everyday lives. But in the ancient world, genealogies were more than just a record of ancestors — they were a vital way to establish identity, status, and legitimacy.

Family trees told stories, connected individuals to their cultural and religious heritage, and reinforced their place in society.

This brings us to Jesus' family tree, as depicted in the New Testament. Two of the Gospels (Matthew and Luke) provide detailed accounts of Jesus’ family tree. But these genealogies are far from identical which raises fascinating questions about their purpose and meaning.

Why are there two different genealogies? What do they reveal about how the Gospel authors viewed Jesus’ identity and mission? To answer these questions, we must try to set our minds in the world of antiquity where genealogies had an important function.

In his Commentary on Luke’s Gospel, Joel B. Green explains:

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In this article, we’ll, therefore, dive into what the Gospels have to say about the genealogy of Jesus. We’ll explore these ancient texts side by side, looking not only at their similarities and differences but also at the theological intentions behind them.

Additionally, we’ll give a bit of space to the scholarly exegesis of Jesus’ family tree, considering how historians and biblical scholars have interpreted these intriguing accounts over the centuries. Let’s uncover what these genealogies can teach us about the man at the center of Christianity.

However, before we begin, I want to invite you to check out Bart D. Ehrman’s exceptional course The Genius of Mark: Jesus the Secret Messiah. In 8 online lectures, Dr. Ehrman provides a fresh and scholarly look at the oldest Gospel, revealing nuances and delineating between history, myth, and tradition!

Jesus' family tree: Comparing Matthew’s and Luke’s Genealogies

The best way to begin our exploration of Jesus’ genealogy is to present both Matthew’s and Luke’s versions side by side. This will allow us to see their similarities and differences, as well as the unique ways each Gospel author crafted their account of Jesus’ lineage.

Wow! That’s quite something. A long list of names and generations in both versions of the genealogy of Jesus. Now, let’s take a closer look at each version to explore their unique details and significance.

The Genealogy of Jesus in Matthew: Jesus’ Lineage to Abraham

In contrast to Mark’s Gospel, which begins with Jesus’ baptism, Matthew opens with a genealogy of Jesus that traces his line of descent. The very first verse of Matthew sets the tone for the entire Gospel: “This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.”

This introduction highlights the dual focus of the genealogy: Jesus as the fulfillment of the promises to Abraham, the father of the Jewish people, and as the descendant of King David, the great ruler of Israel whose lineage was expected to produce the Messiah.

As Raymond E. Brown notes in his masterpiece The Birth of the Messiah: “The name ‘Jesus Christ’ binds the title ‘Messiah’ indivisibly to Jesus and serves as a good preparation for a genealogy and a narrative both of which will stress that Jesus is the fulfillment of Jewish messianic hopes.”

Furthermore, Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus is carefully structured into three sets of 14 generations which represent significant epochs in salvation history: From Abraham to David, from David to the Babylonian exile, and from the exile to Jesus.

This arrangement reflects Matthew’s theological intent and literary expertise. Matthew, or the individual traditionally identified as the author, was an educated figure immersed in Jewish religious tradition. Mark A. Powell, in his book Introducing the New Testament, offers an insightful explanation of Matthew’s use of the number 14:

Another striking feature of Matthew’s version of the genealogy of Jesus is the inclusion of four women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba, alongside Mary.

Their presence is highly unusual in ancient genealogies, which traditionally focused on male lineage. Each of these women’s stories involves elements of irregular or socially scandalous circumstances, yet they play pivotal roles in advancing God’s salvific plan.

As Brown highlights, their inclusion serves a profound theological purpose. These women foreshadow Mary’s extraordinary role in Jesus’ birth, where divine intervention overcame societal norms and expectations.

Through its careful structure, symbolic use of numbers, and the inclusion of women with unconventional backgrounds, Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus serves, first and foremost, as a profound theological statement. In other words, it can’t be taken as an objective (historical) presentation of Jesus’ family tree — a notion that Origen fully acknowledged in the 3rd century.

With this foundation in place, we now turn to Luke’s Gospel to explore how he presents Jesus’ lineage. Let’s take a look!

The Genealogy of Jesus in Luke: From Adam to Jesus

At the outset, it must be noted that Jesus' family tree in Luke is markedly different from the one presented in Matthew. As Joseph A. Fitzmyer explains in his Commentary on Luke:

Any attempt to reconcile these genealogies is, in my view, a futile exercise rooted in ignoring a fundamental reality of the New Testament: the existence of differences, and at times outright contradictions, between the Gospels. Instead of harmonizing, it’s far more fruitful to examine what Luke’s genealogy of Jesus seeks to convey about Jesus’ identity and mission.

Is Jesus a Descendant of David?

Unlike Matthew, who begins with Abraham and highlights Jesus' connection to Israel, Luke’s genealogy reaches as far back as Adam, the progenitor of the human race. This broader scope underscores Luke’s theological emphasis on Jesus’ relationship to all humanity. For Luke, as Bart D. Ehrman explains in his book The New Testament: A Historical Introduction, more than any other Gospel author we’ve seen, Jesus’ salvation comes to the entire world.

By tracing Jesus’ lineage to Adam, Luke expands the focus from Jesus’ Jewish heritage to his universal significance, presenting him as the savior of all people, not just those of Israel.

This raises the question: Is Jesus a descendant of David? Theologically, the answer is rooted in the Jewish belief that the Messiah must descend from David’s line. Historically, however, we lack any verifiable evidence to confirm this claim.

 As far as we can tell, the historical Jesus came from a modest, lower-class family in Nazareth, with no way to establish a direct link to King David, who lived nearly 1,000 years earlier. 

The association with David likely emerged as a theological reflection after Jesus’ death, when his followers, convinced of his resurrection and messianic identity, constructed a narrative to “prove” his Davidic lineage.

It’s possible that Jesus himself alluded to this connection during his ministry, but this remains speculative. What is clear is that the idea of Jesus as a descendant of David served an essential role in early Christian theology, affirming his identity as the long-awaited Messiah.

How Many Generations from Adam to Jesus?

Luke’s genealogy of Jesus stands out not only for its scope but also for its length. Unlike Matthew’s meticulously structured genealogy of three sets of 14 generations, Luke lists 77 generations. This number, often associated with completeness and divine perfection in ancient traditions, carries theological weight. 

Fitzmyer explains the use of groupings of seven names as a mnemonic device “because oral tradition undoubtedly played a great role in the composition of such lists.” The use of seven, a number symbolizing wholeness, adds a layer of significance to the genealogy’s structure and reinforces its portrayal of Jesus as the culmination of divine purpose.

Moreover, the inclusion of 77 generations emphasizes the universality of Luke’s narrative. By extending the genealogy to Adam, Luke connects Jesus not only to Israel’s history but also to the origins of humanity itself.

Finally, Luke’s inclusion of lesser-known or unique names in his genealogy suggests that he either relied on alternative sources or crafted the genealogy to align with his theological aims. This brings us to a crucial question: What is the theological meaning of the genealogy of Jesus in Luke?

Perhaps Michael Wolter, in his Commentary on Luke, offers the clearest answer:

Despite their differences, both genealogies of Jesus have one thing in common: They are, first and foremost, a theological declaration! Luke, through the genealogy of Jesus, ties his identity to the broader human story and emphasizes God’s redemptive plan for all people.

Conclusion

After writing this piece, I might, contrary to most people today, take a closer look at my family tree! Genealogies, as this exploration reveals, were far more significant in the ancient world, serving not only as records of ancestry but as powerful tools for establishing identity, status, and legitimacy. 

The genealogy of Jesus both in Matthew and Luke is no exception, though these versions differ markedly in structure, scope, and theological intent.

Matthew’s genealogy presents Jesus as the fulfillment of Jewish messianic hopes, emphasizing his Davidic and Abrahamic lineage through three sets of 14 generations. This carefully structured account integrates symbolic numbers and includes notable women to highlight God’s salvific plan. 

In contrast, Luke’s genealogy extends back to Adam, underscoring Jesus’ connection to all humanity and portraying his mission as universal. By listing 77 generations, a number tied to completeness, Luke reflects the divine purpose behind salvation history.

Both genealogies, as theological declarations, reveal how the Gospel authors used these lineage accounts to frame Jesus’ identity within God’s redemptive plan for the world.

How Long Was Jesus on the Cross? (TIMELINE)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The crucifixion of Jesus is one of the most significant and debated events in history. Beyond its profound theological and historical implications, questions about the physical details of Jesus’ death continue to intrigue scholars and believers alike. One of the most commonly asked questions is: How long was Jesus on the cross?

By examining the specifics of crucifixion and cross-referencing the Gospel accounts, we can piece together a clearer picture of how long Jesus endured this agonizing fate. In this article I’ll explore the typical duration of crucifixion, the details provided in the Gospels, and the historical and physical factors that may explain the timing of Jesus' death on the cross.

How Long Did a Typical Crucifixion Last?

Before we can answer the question of how long Jesus was on the cross, there are some things we need to understand about crucifixion in general.

Crucifixion was a method of capital punishment favored by the Romans, although the Carthaginians and Persians used it as well, according to John Granger Cook writing in the Brill Encyclopedia of Early Christianity. It involved nailing and/or tying a person to a cross or a stake and letting them hang there until they died.

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While popular depictions of crucifixion show the victim being nailed to the cross by the hands and feet, archeological evidence has demonstrated some of the difficulties inherent in this method. In 1968, archeologists discovered the 1st-century CE remains of a crucified man in Jerusalem, the only such example of crucified remains found so far. The bones of the man, who was named Jehohanan according to his ossuary, gave scholars a lot of information about how crucifixion worked, according to Hershel Shanks.

Specifically, while it was initially imagined that the victim’s feet were nailed to the cross by one nail through the top of the feet, Jehohannan’s heel bone shows something different. His heel bone has a large nail still embedded in it. However, the nail didn’t go through the top of the foot but sideways through the heel. In Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions of Crucifixion, David Chapman writes that the most likely scenario is that the victim’s feet were placed to either side of the upright beam of the cross and nailed sideways.

In addition, although translations of John 20:25 mention wounds from the nails in Jesus’ hands, the Greek word translated as hand — cheír — can mean anything from the hand to the entire forearm up to the elbow. Since the soft tissue of the hand could not have supported a victim’s weight, some have proposed that either their arms were tied to the cross instead or that they were nailed to the wood through the wrists or forearms.

What was the ultimate cause of death for a crucified person? As usual with such historical questions, it’s complicated.

In their article “The History and Pathology of Crucifixion”, F.P. Retief and L. Cilliers write that there are many factors involved in the death of a crucified person. For example, the scourging of the victim before they were hung on the cross, a common practice according to many sources, would have caused severe bleeding and dehydration. However, Retief and Cilliers detail that the main factor leading to death would have been “progressive asphyxia caused by impairment of respiratory movement.”

Hanging by the arms for a long period of time would make breathing progressively more difficult. Eventually, the person would die from a lack of oxygen. Retief and Cillliers write that if the attending Roman soldiers thought this was taking too long, they would speed things along by various methods.

These included the “breaking of the tibia and/or fibula, spear stab wounds into the heart, sharp blows to the front of the chest, or a smoking fire built at the foot of the cross to asphyxiate the victim.” Readers of the Gospels will recognize two of these methods — breaking the legs and stabbing with a spear — although Jesus was speared in the side rather than the heart because he was already dead.

How long did death on a cross generally take? Retief and Cilliers write that it could have taken anywhere from six hours to four days. 

How Long Was Jesus on the Cross Before He Died?

The Gospels tell us some of Jesus’ treatment, but how many days was he on the cross? Before I answer that,  take a look at this comparison chart of how all four canonical Gospels tell the story.

Gospel Timelines of Jesus’ Crucifixion

All four Gospels write that after Jesus was sentenced by Pilate, he had to make his way from Jerusalem where he had been tried, to Golgotha where his crucifixion would take place. Kaufman Kohler and Emil Hirsch write that people condemned to be crucified were normally forced to carry not the entire cross, but only the horizontal cross-beam to the place of execution.

However, the Synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, all say that another person was compelled to carry Jesus’ cross. Mark 15:21 says the guards “compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus.” The stories in Matthew and Luke agree.

Jesus was forced to carry his own cross-beam only in the Gospel of John. As John 19:16-17 puts it, “So they took Jesus, and carrying the cross by himself he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha.”

Once they arrived at Golgotha, Jesus was nailed to the cross by the Roman soldiers who were there. Moreover, all four Gospels agree there were some random passersby who came to see the crucifixion. Only in John, however, are friends and family present, watching Jesus on the cross. Specifically, John 19:25-27 says Jesus’ mother and one of his aunts are there, along with a woman named Mary the wife of Clopas, Mary Magdalene, and the disciple whom Jesus loved. Finally, the Synoptics all say the Jewish religious authorities were present. Mark 15:31-32, for instance, says:

How long was Jesus on the cross? Matthew and Luke don’t mention any time of day when the crucifixion began, but Mark says it was at “the third hour” or nine o’clock in the morning. John, however, says Jesus was sentenced around noon, so his actual crucifixion would have begun sometime after that.

All three Synoptic Gospels say that at noon, a 3-hour period of darkness fell over the land. Since Jesus had been on the cross since 9:00 AM, he had been hanging on the cross for three hours. At the end of this period of darkness, Jesus dies at 3:00 PM. This fits with the lower end of the range of time it generally took for someone to die on the cross, according to Retief and Cilliers. Since John doesn’t indicate when Jesus finally died, we’ll have to take the Synoptics’ word for it. How long did Jesus hang on the cross? He was on the cross for six hours before he died.

Conclusion

Crucifixion was a horrible way to die. Death on the cross was far from instantaneous. After being mercilessly whipped, the condemned person was forced to carry the crossbeam of their own instrument of torture to the place where they would be killed. After being nailed and/or tied to the cross, the victim would hang there, slowly asphyxiating over a period of hours or even days.

Jesus’ crucifixion, as described in the Gospels, certainly fits this pattern in most ways. After he was scourged, the Synoptics say he was given a reprieve from the arduous task of lugging the instrument of his death when someone else was forced to carry his cross-beam, although John disagrees, saying Jesus carried it himself.

How long was Jesus on the cross? Mark’s Gospel says he was nailed to the cross at 9:00 in the morning. Three hours later, according to all three Synoptics, a darkness lasting three hours fell over the entire land, after which Jesus gave up the ghost. Since John doesn’t tell us when Jesus died — he merely says Jesus’ crucifixion began after noon — we have only the Synoptics to tell us: Jesus hung on the cross for six hours before dying.

What Ethnicity Was Jesus? (Uncovering His Nationality and Race)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

Questions about Jesus’ ethnicity, race, and nationality have intrigued people for centuries. Since the meanings behind these categories have evolved over time, and since Jesus lived in a very different historical and cultural context from our own, the task of defining his identity can be more complicated than it might seem. What nationality was Jesus?

In this article, I'll answer that question while explaining the terms ethnicity, race, and nationality as they relate to Jesus and attempt to clarify the cultural and political aspects of his identity. By examining the historical context of Jesus' life, we can gain a deeper understanding of who he was, both in his time and in our modern imagination.

Definitions: Ethnicity, Race, and Nationality

Let’s first examine three categories often used to classify the identities of human beings. The first of these is ethnicity. The American Psychological Association gives a good definition of this term:

It’s important to note, then, that ethnicity has little to do with physical traits and everything to do with a shared culture and history, according to this definition. When we define Jesus’ ethnicity, we will see that there is plenty of available information on his culture, which makes it easy to define his ethnic identity.

Race is a trickier category, not least because, since its invention in the 16th century, people have often used it to denigrate and mistreat others based on arbitrary judgments of perceived physical characteristics (i.e., racism). The definition from the American Psychological Association is, again, helpful:

Note that this definition includes the way modern humans have often used the notion of race as a justification for denying power or rights to various groups of people they deemed inferior. Today, race is often thought to be an invalid idea since it is based on perceptions of biology which have no basis in science. In fact, in an article entitled “We Should Abandon “Race” as a Biological Category in Biomedical Research,” Wolfgang Umek and Barbara Fischer argue that

Nationality, the last of our three terms, is simply the legal status of being a citizen of a particular nation-state. Nation-states are a modern invention. Many historians point to France after the French Revolution at the end of the 18th century as the first nation-state. Others say it was the English Commonwealth, established in 1649, Regardless, it goes without saying that in the 1st-century Mediterranean world Jesus lived in, there were no nation-states, and therefore, no nationalities.

Having defined these categories, we can now look into how they do — or don't— fit Jesus.

What Was Jesus’ Ethnicity?

If ethnicity is a category based primarily on shared culture, we need to examine evidence for Jesus’ cultural identity. Fortunately, the Gospels provide us with plenty of data on this. As the well-known scholar Paula Frederikson says, “What astonishes me when I read the stories about Jesus in the New Testament, is how completely embedded he is in this first-century... Jewish world of religious practice and piety.”

Jesus was from the northern region of Palestine known as Galilee and did most of his preaching there. In “The Archeology of Roman Palestine,” Mark Alan Chancey and Adam Lowry Porter note that archaeological evidence from Galilee in Jesus’ time shows a predominantly Jewish population. This evidence includes many ritual baths or mikveh for purity, as well as proof of widespread Jewish burial practices all over the region.

In addition, the New Testament gives us further evidence of Jesus’ Jewish ethnicity. He was circumcised eight days after his birth and then presented in the Temple, according to Luke 2:21-22. Furthermore, in the Gospels, Jesus frequently goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath (Matt 12:9, Mark 1:21, Luke 4:16, John 6:59). His disciples, Galileans like himself, were all Jewish as well, and Jesus spoke Aramaic, the language of most Jews in Palestine. Jesus went to Jerusalem for major festivals such as Passover (Mark 10:32-33, Matt 26:17-18), and while he was there, he and his disciples went into the Temple where they were under the authority of the priests. As Shaye I.D. Cohen says,

What was Jesus’ ethnicity? From the evidence of Jesus’ cultural background and activities, there is zero doubt: Jesus was ethnically Jewish.

What Race Was Jesus?

As I wrote above, race is a suspect category. In fact, I agree with the biologists I quoted above that, given its history and the nefarious uses it has been put to in the modern world, it should probably be retired.

Additionally, since the notion of race is based on judgments of perceived physical characteristics, we are actually at a loss anyway; while people have created visual representations of Jesus for centuries, we actually have no idea what he really looked like. Anyone who has read the Gospels notes that there are no physical descriptions of Jesus.

Historian Joan E. Taylor, using early texts and archeological evidence, has determined that Jesus was likely a fairly short man (by modern standards) with dark skin. Why, then, have depictions of his appearance varied so much, with some modern paintings showing a light-skinned, blond, blue-eyed Jesus, for instance? The answer reinforces the problematic nature of the concept of race.

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In The Forging of Races: Race and Scripture in the Protestant Atlantic World, 1600–2000, Colin Kidd writes that in the 19th century, some biblical scholars began to theorize that Jesus was not Jewish. The basis for this judgment was antisemitism: an amazing, wise person such as Jesus could not have belonged to an inferior race such as the Jews.

For example, in her book The Aryan Jesus: Christian Theologians and the Bible in Nazi Germany, Susannah Heschel notes that 19th-century scholar Ernest Renan portrayed Jesus as being transformed from a Jew into an Aryan. Renan said Jesus had been “purified from any Jewish traits.” This idea would unfortunately develop further in Europe and the United States in the years to come.

In acknowledging the troubled past of the concept of race, I don’t think it’s necessary or appropriate to answer the question of Jesus’ race.

What Nationality Was Jesus?

According to our definition above, nationality means legally belonging to a political entity — a nation-state — that was invented sometime between the 17th and 18th centuries. In one sense then, it’s illogical to ask what Jesus’ nationality was. With no nation-states, no one had a nationality.

However, as an ethnic Jew, Jesus did belong to a people. This is signified in the New Testament by the Greek word ethnos, the root of our word “ethnicity.” Sometimes, ethnos in the Bible means “Gentiles,” people who have their own group identities but are not Jewish. An example of this is Matthew 6:32, where Jesus is talking to a Jewish audience about why they shouldn’t worry about what they will eat, drink, or wear. Why? “For it is the Gentiles (ta ethne) who seek all these things.” In this case, an ethnos is simply a people who are not Jews like Jesus and his audience.

Other times, though, the word ethnos is translated into English as “nations.” We see this in Mark 13:10, when Jesus says “And the good news must first be proclaimed to all nations (ta ethne).” Don’t be fooled by the translation, though. While the word “nation” is used, it doesn’t mean nation-state.

A synonym for “nation” in this ancient sense could have been as simple as “group” or “tribe.” In terms of identity, though, ancient people also believed that everyone who was a member of a specific ethnos came from a common mythical ancestor or ancestors. Romans, for example, believed they derived from Romulus and Remus, while Jews believed that they came from Abraham.

While Palestine was not a nation-state —  it had no constitution or enforced borders, for example – it was a nation, a people. In Remembering Abraham: Culture, Memory, and History in the Hebrew Bible, Ronald Hendel clarifies this, writing about “the ways that Israel constructed its cultural identity in relation to its neighbors, and how its cultural, religious, and ethnic boundaries were contested and reinterpreted in various biblical texts.” In other words, the nation of Israel was not defined by political borders as our nations are, but by culture, religion, and ethnicity.

By this measure, Jesus, as a member of the Jewish people culturally and religiously, was Jewish. But then another question arises: was Jesus a Hebrew? This question assumes a difference between the words Jewish and Hebrew.

Was Jesus Hebrew?

The word Hebrew comes from the Hebrew word ivri. There is no uniform scholarly consensus on the meaning of this word in its context in the book of Genesis, but Genesis 14:13 calls Abraham “the Hebrew” (Ha’Ivri) meaning “from the other side of the Euphrates River.” Later rabbinic interpretation would take this to mean that Abraham stood apart from his original people, creating a new nation, the Hebrews.

So was Jesus Jewish? Yes. But since he, like his contemporaries, believed he had a common ancestor with other Jews, he could also be called a Hebrew.

Conclusion

The words ethnicity, race, and nationality are often used interchangeably. However, they are not the same. Ethnicity denotes primarily a common culture, which can, of course, include such factors as language, food, and religion, among others. Race is a category invented in the 17th century and categorizes people by perceived physical traits. It has often been used to catalog people deemed inferior and, scientifically, it has little validity. Nationality, on the other hand, simply means citizenship in a nation-state, something that was invented no earlier than the 17th century as well.

For these reasons, the easiest way to define Jesus’ identity is ethnically. What ethnicity was Jesus? He was an ethnic Jew. He was raised in a Jewish part of the world, he spoke Aramaic, the language of most Jews in the 1st century, and participated in the religion and culture of the Jews around him.

Since the notion of race has largely been discredited in the modern world, defining Jesus’ race seems unnecessary or even harmful. While at least one historian has written of what Jesus might have looked like based on his geography and ethnicity, there is no way to know for certain. However, beginning in the 19th century, some scholars asserted improbably that Jesus was somehow not Jewish. This stemmed from antisemitism and an unwillingness to identify such a revered person with a hated racial group.

Nation-states did not exist in Jesus’ time, so, essentially, Jesus did not have a nationality as we define it today. However, he did belong to an ethnos, a “nation” which corresponds in many ways to our modern notion of ethnicity in that it is culturally based. In the ancient world, a nation was a people with a shared culture, religion, and mythical heritage.