The opening verses of John’s gospel provide a perspective on the presence and power of the God of Creation in the life of Jesus from 30,000 feet. Early in the story John shocks his hearers with the line: “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him” (Jn 1.10). We might assume based on what John has told us in the opening verses of his prologue that since “he was with God in the beginning” (Jn 1.2) and “all things came into being through him” (Jn 1.3) and that his life is the light of all people (Jn 1.4) and that he “was coming into the world” (Jn 1.9) that Jesus, the Son of God, the Word from Creation would obviously be welcomed, known, loved, and embraced. But most of us know that is not how the gospel is going to unfold. The One who fashioned the cosmos will become flesh and live among us (Jn 1.14). And yet, John tells us from the beginning that when confronted with the good news of God’s immediate presence among God’s people, the Son of God will be rejected by those God created. As you (hopefully) read three interwoven rejection stories today that expose, I hope you will see the overt and subtle motivations for humanity’s rejection of the Son of God – both then and now.
As in Matthew’s gospel, Judas leads an armed militia to the garden to arrest Jesus. John notes that both Roman and Jewish cohorts are part of the mix. A “speira” (Jn 18.12) is a Roman manipulus, which at the time could include anywhere from 200 (two centuries) to 600 soldiers (a cohort). This military unit was under the command of a chiliarch (Jn 18.12), which literally means “ruler over a thousand men.” Even 200 soldiers (let alone 600!) seems like overkill if the goal is to ensure the arrest of Jesus. In addition, that sounds like quite a large detachment of soldiers for Rome to have on hand at Jerusalem. However, given the fact that the Passover festival was about to begin it would not be unusual for Rome to amass soldiers near Jerusalem to suppress any potential uprisings.
In addition to the Roman military unit, a Jewish temple police force of an unknown size is also in the garden. In this scene, the Roman militia was on hand to support the Jewish temple police just in case something went awry in the capture and arrest of Jesus. Contrary to any possible reports that Jesus tried to resist arrest, John’s gospel portrays Jesus going out to meet Judas and the militia as they enter the garden (Jn 18.4). Note that the kiss of betrayal is not included in this gospel and that the soldiers “step back and fall to the ground” (Jn 18.6) when Jesus identifies himself as the person they seek, using the name of God (Jn 18.6,8, “I am”). In John’s gospel, in contrast to Matthew, Jesus is not taken, but authoritatively hands himself over as he is seized and bound (Jn 18.12). In addition, both Gentile and Jewish militia take part together signaling early on the universal scope of the rejection of Jesus.
Having secured Jesus, the temple police take him to Annas, “the father-in-law of Caiaphus, the high priest that year” (Jn 18.13). John’s gospel is the only one that includes Annas in this portion of the gospel narrative, but it is not completely surprising. Annas was high priest before Caiaphus (c. 6-15CE), maintained a position of substantial authority in Jerusalem, and had five sons and grandsons who held the high priesthood through 41CE (Beasley-Murray, 323). Annas figures prominently in Luke-Acts alongside Caiaphus and other high priests in his family, solidifying his patriarchal status in the Temple during the time of Jesus, even to the point of maintaining the title of high priest (Jn 18.19, Acts 4.6).
As Jesus is brought before Annas, John reminds the reader that it was Caiaphus who said “it is expedient for one man to die on behalf of the people” (Jn 11.50, 18.14). When Caiaphus said this, he spoke to the rising concern over what Rome would do in response to the tumult that Jesus was causing among the Jews, particularly after raising Lazarus from the tomb (Jn 11.48). With these words, Caiaphus solidified the resolve of the Sanhedrin to kill Jesus (Jn 11.53). John, however, indicates that Caiaphus spoke far more than he could understand: “He did not say this on his own, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus was about to die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the dispersed children of God” (Jn 11.51-52). Caiaphus understands the death of Jesus in the most expedient terms of leveraging political savvy and power to maintain national security and Jerusalem’s balance of power with Rome. John, understanding the Cross now in the light of Resurrection, understands Jesus’ resolve as he walks the journey from Gethsemane to Golgotha. What Caiaphus understands by “saving our nation” and what John and Jesus understand by “saving our nation” are two entirely different visions that stem from precisely the same events. In other words, what Annas and Caiaphus see, hear know and believe when they see the Cross and what John and his hearers see, hear, know, and believe when they see the Cross radically differ. How might perceiving the world through the sign of the Cross as John comprehends it alter the way we see, hear, know and believe? This is one of the driving questions that runs throughout John’s gospel (Jn 20.30-31) and that remains vital in every era of human existence.
In verse 19, Annas breaks from Judaic tradition in his “trial” of Jesus. Instead of calling witnesses, he questions Jesus directly. By questioning Jesus about his “disciples and his teaching,” Annas is likely attempting to demonstrate that Jesus is a false prophet of Israel, a charge punishable by death (Dt 13). Jesus speaks about the highly public nature of his ministry against the charge. False teachers who seek to subvert authority tend to teach in secret and all of Jesus’ teaching and healings have been done out in the open.
Jesus then directly accuses Annas of violating standard trial protocols, suggesting that Annas call witnesses (Jn 18.21), which is why one of the temple police officers strikes Jesus (Jn 18.22). Turning to the officer, Jesus more directly demands a fair trial. When Jesus says, “If I have spoken wrongly,” he is not referring to the assumed charge of being a false teacher, he is referring to the fact that Annas is not dealing justly with Jesus. Because Jesus has doubled down on his demand for a fair trial, Annas “sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest” (Jn 18.24).
We do not know if Jesus is put on trial before Caiaphus because John’s narrative turns immediately to Jesus’ trial before Pilate. The trial before Annas was a farce designed to expediently arrive at a death sentence. Any trial before Caiaphus would have been the same. The result is that Jesus is taken to Pilate since, as we discover in Jn 18.30, Caiaphus does not have authority under Roman rule to carry out the death penalty as adjudicated by Torah. At this point in our journey, the Jerusalem establishment has rejected Jesus and will do anything to be rid of him in order to protect their political and social standing under Roman rule. To be direct, they are choosing political expediency over faithfulness to God; what is best for Israel over righteousness before God – which is something worth thinking about in any political climate that claims to be “under God.”