Who Killed Jesus?

The just man who is thought unjust will be scourged, racked, bound-will have his eyes burnt out; and, at last, after suffering every kind of evil, he will be impaled.—Glaucon, The Republic, No. 361Quod scripsi, scripsi—What I have written, I have written.—Pontius Pilate (John 19:22)Political theory is by all accounts a discipline peculiar to Western civilization. It has its origin in the Greek city-state, particularly in Plato's account of the death of Socrates. In The Republic Plato went on to ask whether the just man could live in even the best state. Socrates, we know, fought in the Peloponnesian Wars and died by virtue of a public trial in 399 B.C. By his own testimony he died obedient to the laws of the civil community in which he chose to live his life, thereby condemning the unjust use of Athenian law and stigmatizing forever those 281 hapless jurists who voted for his guilt. Moreover, Socrates died calmly because he believed in the immortality of his own soul and because he was by no means sure that an already aging man would not be much better off in the Isles of the Blessed.

There is no scientific reason to question the existence of Jesus as an authentic historical figure. It means that all the scholars who acknowledge the historicity of Jesus at least as a Jewish teacher and healer accept the fact of his death on the cross. The reasons and the details of the crucifixion given by commentators of the historical sources vary. One thing remains invariable: Jesus was sentenced to death and crucified in Jerusalem on the order of the Roman Prefect of Judaea, Pontius Pilate, most probably on the charge of incitement to rebellion against the Roman Empire.

The Passover Computation

InPilate and Jesus, Giorgio Agamben argues that Pontius Pilate never formally condemned Jesus of Nazareth. “The traditional interpretation of Jesus’ trial … must be revised,” he urges, because “there has not been any judgment in a technical sense.” In Agamben's telling, Pilate's non-judgment is the original truth of Jesus's death that has been covered over by tradition. This is an intriguing hypothesis, but Agamben's use of sources in arguing it is highly irregular. This article offers a critique of the legal and philological argumentation ofPilate and Jesus. In the process, it revisits an ancient—and still actual—controversy surrounding the Roman trial of Jesus and demonstrates that Pilate did sentence Jesus,pro tribunali, to death on a cross.

The statement of the Jewish authorities to Pontius Pilate in John 18. 31b, ‘It is not lawful for us to kill anyone’, is commonly regarded as a key to the historical reconstruction of the trial and execution of Jesus. If it means — as it is usually understood to mean — that Roman law did not permit the Jewish Sanhedrin to carry out the death penalty in capital cases, then it explains what is otherwise unexplained in the synoptic Gospels: i.e. why, if Jesus was convicted by the Sanhedrin, was he delivered to the Romans for another trial, and for death by crucifixion? Why was he not simply stoned to death at the command of the Sanhedrin, as the Jewish law required (cf. Lev 24. 16)? The narrator's parenthetical comment in John 18. 32 seems to bear out this interpretation: the fact that the Jews were not allowed by the Roman government to execute Jesus meant that he would die by being ‘lifted up’ on a cross - a distinctively Roman method of execution (cf. John 3. 14; 12. 32–33).

My own approach to finding the historical Jesus in the text of the New Testament may appear to some as extreme. It seems to me that Mark, the earliest gospel version on the life of Jesus compiled shortly after the destruction of the Second Jewish by the Romans in 70 C.E., contains authentic traces of the historical Jesus shrouded in repeated motifs of secrecy which are intended to obscure the role of Jesus as a political revolutionary sympathizer involved in the Jewish national struggle against Rome. When the Gospel of Mark is analyzed in its own light, without recourse to the special status which canonical tradition confers, it is less history and biography and more historiosophy and parable. It also features an astute polemic against the Jewish Christian believers in Jerusalem, whose influence diminished considerably following the fall of Jerusalem in 70 C.E., and a clever apology to make early Christianity palatable to Rome by not identifying Jesus with the national aspirations of the Jews. The Markan account on the trial of Jesus and his execution, along with the portrait of a pacifistic Christ, are for the most part historically questioned by S. G. F. Brandon, who sees in these narratives attempts by the Gentile Church to win Roman favor by exculpating Pontius Pilate from his share in the crucifixion of Jesus.(64) I agree. Regarding the Synoptic Gospels' (Mathew, Mark, Luke) account of Jesus before the Sanhedrin,(65) the trial before Pilate,(66) and the sentence of death,(67) the question of historical fairness intrudes into these accounts. Jesus is tried three times (the Sanhedrin night-trial which found him guilty of blasphemy, the trial before Herod Antipas, and the dawn-trial before Pilate), and so which court decisively condemned Jesus?(68) Where in the biblical-talmudic tradition is blasphemy defined by claiming that one is the the Son of the Blessed?(69) Lev 24:13-23 and Sanhedrin 7.5 proclaim that whoever curses God is guilty of blasphemy.(70) Rarely recorded are malediction and impious profanity by one who claims to be a messianic figure. True, Josephus reported many messianic pretenders between 6 and 70 C.E., but we have no record of any put to death. Bar-Kochba was called Messiah by Akiba, but tradition does not speak ill of either second-century hero. And no less a personality than Maimonides relegated the messianic doctrine to a secondary position among the articles of faith rendered in his name. Also, one guilty of blasphemy was stoned to death and not killed by crucifixion as recorded by Mark.(71) That Jesus was sympathetic to the Zealot cause may explain why the charges of sedition were not overtly denied by Jesus when asked, Are you the King of the Jews?(72) Other references support this view. One of the trusted disciples was Simon the Zealot.(73) The Zealot Movement, rooted in the tradition of being zealous for the Lord,(74) arose in the Galilee in the first decade of the first century. It may be assumed that the child Jesus raised in Nazareth would have listened often to tales of Zealot exploits against the hated Romans and how many of the former died martyrs' deaths in a futile attempt to replace the bondage of Rome with the yoke of the kingdom of heaven.(75) These childhood experiences listened to in earnest and awe caused the adult Jesus to sympathize with the anti-Roman feelings of his people. Thus, the cleansing of the Temple pericope is not to be read as anti-Temple but rather as a critique of the functionaries who collaborated with Rome.(76) This episode appears to have coincided with an insurrection in Jerusalem during the period of Gaius Caligula (34-41), in which the Zealots appear to have been involved.(77) The famous question concerning tribute to Caesar has Jesus saying, Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's,(78) thereby implying Jewish support of Roman fiscal and political policy. This is an assimilable position and it is very doubtful that the historical Jesus identified with it. …

In “the death of christianity,” Lawrence Swaim argues that the doctrine of substitutionary atonement “makes God out to be a vengeful, homicidal deity who can be satisfied only with the death of his son.” He eloquently elaborates how the doctrine of blood atonement is a product of Roman imperial power, injustice, and terrorism, and presents the cross as a sign of conquest that has shaped Christian identity and ecclesiastical might throughout the centuries. Urging us to embrace a counterstory of Jesus’s life, Swaim goes on to suggest that we replace the symbol of the cross with the image of “a woman holding a child.” Since the cross sends a message that violence can be redemptive, he argues, Christians must jettison the doctrine, story, and symbol of the cross.I do not think that we should drop the symbol of the cross, either from the story of Jesus or as a central Christian symbol. We need the symbol of the cross as a public sign of imperial injustice and murder, a symbol that challenges state and ecclesiastical powers, and empowers victims. Hence, it is necessary to retell the story of Jesus in terms of justice and not just in terms of internalized love.What is not obvious at first glance is that Swaim’s argument adopts the critical debate on the the*logy of the cross that has taken place in feminist the*logy and studies in religion. (Please note that my use of an asterisk in “the*ology” is not a typo but rather a way to speak about G*d in neither masculine [theology] nor feminine [thealogy] gender terms.) To my knowledge, Mary Daly was the first feminist the*logian to point out the significance of the discourse on sin, cross, and salvation in Beyond God the Father:The qualities that Christianity idealizes, especially for women, are also those of the victim: sacrificial love, passive acceptance of suffering, humility, meekness, etc. Since these are the qualities idealized in Jesus “who died for our sins,” his functioning as a model reinforces the scapegoat syndrome for women.Subsequent feminist christological discussions have underscored the problematic character of Christian beliefs in the cross and redemption. One example of this feminist the*logical discussion is Christianity, Patriarchy, and Abuse. In the introduction to this book, Joanne Carlson Brown and Rebecca Parker argue that Christianity has been a primary force in shaping our acceptance of abuse. They write:The central image of Christ on the cross as the savior of the world, communicates the message that suffering is redemptive. . . . The child who suffers without even raising a voice is loaded with the hope of the world.After reviewing the classical doctrines of atonement and discussing modern the*logies of suffering and the cross, they conclude:Christianity is an abusive theology that glorifies suffering. Is it any wonder that there is so much abuse in modern society when the predominant image or theology of the culture is of “divine child abuse” — God the father, demanding and carrying out the suffering and death of his own son. . . . This blood‐thirsty God is the God of the patriarchy who at the moment controls the whole Judeo‐Christian tradition.I agree with both this critique and with Swaim’s rejection of the doctrine of blood atonement, as well as his thorough elaboration of imperial Christian power and violence in the name of the cross throughout the centuries. However, I do not think that we should drop the symbol of the cross because it is a constant reminder of imperial injustice.The recent case of Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida, underscores why we need public signs challenging imperial injustice and murder such as the cross. In April 2012 the news broke that, after weeks of public protest, Martin’s killer was arrested. This was achieved because the injustice of Martin’s death was kept alive in public consciousness as a sign of unjust law and rampant police racism that targets young black men. While the cross, i.e., the unjust execution of Jesus, was not publicly invoked as an interpretive frame, its spirit of intolerable injustice was present.Catholics United for the Common Good articulated this critical public function of the cross this year during a demonstration on Good Friday with a fifty‐foot banner that asked, “Were You There When They Crucified the Poor?” In addition to standing in protest before St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the demonstrators submitted 6,400 signatures calling on the Roman Catholic bishops to defend the poor from budget cuts pushed for by House Budget Committee chairman Paul Ryan, a Roman Catholic.In order to keep the cross as the symbol of injustice before our eyes, we have to continue to ask, were you there when they crucified poor welfare mothers or women who insisted on their right to make their own reproductive decisions, or when they crucified young black men? In order to be able to understand the symbol of the cross as a sign of injustice, we need to tell its story differently. We need to abandon the story‐frame of blood atonement and tell the Jesus story in terms of struggles for justice. We must not cut the cross and resurrection out of the Jesus story but tell this story differently. We can do so if we read the New Testament not through the lenses of blood atonement the*logy but rather in light of the resurrection.Critical biblical scholarship has unearthed a host of different interpretations of Jesus’s death and resurrection that may or may not have a claim to being “historical.” While scholars disagree in their historical evaluation of individual texts about Jesus’s death, they almost universally agree that these texts have been generated by historical events. These “facts” consist in that Jesus suffered the excruciating death of crucifixion and that he was proclaimed by his followers as having been raised from the dead.The actual form of Jesus’s execution is not controverted. We know that the Roman imperial police did not hesitate to use crucifixion as a mode of execution, especially against seditious provincials and rebellious slaves. According to all four gospels, Jesus was charged with a political crime. The Roman governor Pontius Pilate had affixed a placard to Jesus’s cross proclaiming the crime for which he was killed. He gave as the reason for Jesus’s execution that he was the “king of the Jews.” Some scholars doubt that this official interpretation of Jesus’s execution is historical. Yet it would be difficult to argue for its later invention, since the statement serves neither Jewish nor Christian political‐religious interests. To the contrary, it caused great difficulties for both. In any case, Pilate’s public identification of Jesus as “king of the Jews” constitutes a very early explanation as to why Jesus was crucified. However, the gospels have the tendency to shift attention from this political reason for Jesus’s death to a religious‐ethnic one. Such a shift takes away the responsibility for Jesus’s execution from the Roman government and places it increasingly on the Jewish leadership and people.The execution of Jesus raised a difficult the*logical problem for his followers as to whether he and his message were wrong. It also engendered the need for a political apologetics capable of showing that the early Christians were not seditious enemies of the Roman order. Such a political apologetics shifted theological attention away not only from the political character of the death of Jesus to a religious symbolic interpretation of the cross, but also away from the culpability of the Roman imperial administration to that of the Jewish leadership and people. Since this shift had already been accomplished at the time when our canonical gospels were written, it is important to trace the pre‐gospel interpretation of the execution of Jesus.One of the first interpretations given to the execution of Jesus is the confessional formula “G*d raised him from the dead,” or “he was raised” (passive voice). This formula seems to be structurally patterned after the central Israelite confession “God brought Israel out of Egypt.” It asserts that G*d’s saving activity is manifested in the vindication of Jesus, who is now the Resurrected One. While the blood atonement interpretation sees Jesus’s death as the perfect sacrifice for appeasing G*d, the vindication by G*d interpretation sees his execution as unjust and his being raised as the exoneration of the just one. Such language of vindication is found in both apocalyptic and Hellenistic wisdom literature. For instance, Wisdom of Solomon 2:13–20 asserts that the righteous one will be numbered among the children of G*d and not be put to shame. The righteous one will be saved by G*d and exalted to glory as a witness to G*d’s help for those who are truly just. To stress that “G*d raised Jesus” expresses the conviction that Jesus’s message and person were vindicated despite all evidence to the contrary.Various other meaning‐making attempts in the face of the unjust execution of Jesus, including that he died for our sins, can be explicated if one explores not only Pauline texts but also christological titles, almost all of which were ascribed to Jesus after his death and resurrection. By giving dignity and value to the one who in his execution became a dehumanized non‐person, these titles seek to exonerate Jesus. One could also find increased instances of such “naming” and meaning‐ making rhetorical gestures by looking closely at how the oldest narrative traditions characterize Jesus. These early Christian attempts at making meaning in the face of the devastating execution of Jesus should not be conceptualized in terms of the history of ideas, but as critical arguments that begin with the very real experience of Jesus’s unjust dehumanization and crucifixion as a political criminal.In short, the cross and its early New Testament interpretations begin with the historical fact of unjust oppression, the experience of struggle for a different world, and the encounter of the victimization and death of the dehumanized person. They seek to make meaning in the context and situation of unjust suffering. In doing so, they claim the historical agency of those disenfranchised to define and change death‐dealing situations of dehumanization because execution is not the last word.Resurrection is a symbolic act, yet it offers real justification for Jesus and all those “little ones” or “nobodies” who struggle for survival, human dignity, and liberation from oppression. Faith in resurrection and hope in the overcoming of brutal suffering and execution celebrates the living. It does so with ever new names and images that reconstitute the human dignity, agency, and memory of those who were killed.All gospels mention Mary of Magdala as the primary witness to the resurrection, and they refer to other women as well. Moreover, these women are not only said to be the first proclaimers of Jesus’s resurrection, but they are also characterized as the primary witnesses to his execution and burial. Yet, no human being is reported to have witnessed the resurrection event itself!The Easter message is given to Mary of Magdala and to the other women who have come to the grave site. The kerygmatic formula proclaimed in Mark 16:6 and stylized in Matthew 28:5–6 mentions the death of Jesus not in general terms but specifically as a crucifixion. The resurrection stories state, “he is not here,” i.e., in the place where Jesus was buried, and the proclamation “he was raised” is the proof for it. The Easter message is an announcement requiring action rather than a statement of confession. It is future‐oriented rather than backward‐looking: the women “seek” Jesus among the dead but are told that the tomb is empty. The empty tomb proclamation locates the Resurrected One not in heaven but on earth, in Galilee. The imagination space of the empty tomb engenders the proclamation of Jesus as the unjustly killed one who has been vindicated.Positioning contemporary feminist discourses about the the*logy of the cross within the rhetorical space of the empty tomb as an ambiguous, open space allows one to reclaim this space of resurrection for women’s meaning‐making practices in the face of dehumanization and oppression. Religious discourses can take these spaces of brutal victimization seriously and at the same time claim the victims’ agency in either collaborating with or transforming such spaces of death.The texts of the empty tomb tradition take injustice, suffering, and death seriously but do not see them as having the last word. Since G*d was absent in the execution of the Just One, the women’s presence under the cross is a witness to this absence. The tomb is the brutal, final reality of the cross that eclipses G*d and negates all possibilities for the future. But the “tomb is empty!” The empty tomb does not signify absence but presence: it announces the Resurrected One’s presence on the road ahead, in a particular place of struggle such as Galilee or Sanford, Florida. The Resurrected One is present in the “little ones,” in the survival struggles of those who are impoverished, hungry, imprisoned, tortured, and killed in the wretched of the earth. Their claims to justice remain visible and audible in the symbol of the cross. We cannot afford to relinquish this Christian symbol of brutal injustice: the cross continues to challenge us to protest the imperial powers of victimization and injustice that shape both our society and our religions.

The contribution to civilization rendered by the image of the cross obviously lies not in the mere fact of Jesus' crucifixion by the Roman procurator Pontius Pilate and with the acquiescence of Jewish authorities. Rather, it lies in the degree to which the “cross,” as a metonym for Jesus' violent death, became early on in the church a positive organizing center for Christian thought and practice. It did so in three primary ways: (1) its atoning function; (2) its incorporative function (i.e. crucified with Christ); and (3) its ethical function. Christianity's positive focus on Christ's crucifixion is remarkable in view of the fact that the crucifixion of a movement's founding leader would normally be devastating for that movement. Certainly this was the design of those who had Jesus crucified. Even the stories of Jesus' resurrection appearances to disciples reported soon after his death did not, in and of themselves, require a positive valuation of Jesus' death.

Abstract: This article explores apologetic early Christian approaches to Pontius Pilate, demonstrating the popularity of the idea that Pilate was innocent of Jesus's death, regarded Christ as innocent and just, and even became a Christian himself. Focusing on the exceptionally detailed image of the man who condemned Jesus to the cross found in the New Testament homilies of John Chrysostom, this article connects Chrysostom's treatment of Pilate to his interaction with a real-life (and pagan) governor of Syria. It suggests that apologetic interpretations of Pilate were used not merely to denigrate Jews but also to allow Christians who were themselves both Christian and Roman to believe that Rome had witnessed their Messiah—a historical example which proved the congruence of Romanness and Christianity.

In Luke-Acts the deaths of Jesus and Stephen are portrayed as martyrdoms. When we focus on the Lukan Jesus' death, two things need to be said. On the one hand, in contrast to other New Testament witnesses like Paul and Matthew, Luke avoids any connection between Jesus' death and the forgiveness of sins. On the other hand, Luke portrays the death of Jesus as martyrdom, the unjust murder of an innocent man by the established powers due to the pressure of the Jewish leaders. Jesus is innocent of the charges against him. He is delivered up by the Jewish chief priests and scribes and executed by Gentiles. These martyrdoms are understood by the Evangelist in the first instance as the rejection of God's spokesmen which results in the rejection of the rejectors by God.Keywords: Evangelist; Jesus; Luke-Acts; martyrdoms; New Testament; Stephen

General William J. Urbrock, Christopher T. Begg, Eric J. Wagner, CR, Bernhard Lang, and David A. Bosworth 1. Joel S. Baden and Candida R. Moss, "Reevaluating Biblical Infertility," BARev 43 (5, 2017) 20, 66. While the Bible generally portrays fertility and childbearing as something good and blessed, the command to be fruitful and multiply (Gen 1:28) was never meant to be universal. Women like Dinah, Miriam, and Deborah, who are not said to have offspring, are simply barren—and blameless. Indeed, for Jews and Christians in antiquity, the common vision of the world to come was one in which sex and procreation no longer functioned.—W.J.U. 2. Françoise Briqüel Catonnet and Robert Hawley, "Pierre Bordreuil (*August 28, 1937–†November 13, 2017)," UF 44 (2013) vii-x. The authors provide a brief necrology of Bordreuil, a leading contemporary Semitic epigraphist and philologian, that reviews his life, career and scholarly contributions and pays tribute to the generosity with which he made his knowledge available to colleagues, students and the wider public prior to his unexpected death in November 2013.—C.T.B. 3. Telmo José Amaral de Figueiredo, "Por que falar de sacrifíco? [Why speak of sacrifice?]," EBíb 33 (2016) 13-27. This article is intended to introduce the above issue of EBíb that is devoted to the theme of "sacrifice" in the Bible with special attention to the question of what kind of sacrifices are pleasing to God and which are not. Pursuant to this aim, the article explores anthropological/philosophical conceptions of sacrifice, that of R. Girard in particular, which it presents in some detail. It further briefly reviews the various kinds of sacrifices mentioned in the OT, and concludes with considerations on the sacrifice of Jesus as the "true and unique victim." [Adapted from published abstract—C.T.B.] 4. Irmtraud Fischer, "The Views of the Old Testament on Female Sexuality," Ein pralles Leben, 205-14 [see #716]. Sexuality is a central sphere of human life, which is regulated by law, ethics and custom in every society. These rules are, however, only in very few cases—and indeed not at all in historical cultures—set by the individual as a matter of self-determination, but rather by whoever holds power at the time. Ancient women only rarely, and if then only in small numbers, were members of the class of power-holders. The patriarchal society that finds its expression in the OT is no exception in this regard. The relevant OT texts are, however, not to be read as reflections of lived reality, since the legal texts or narratives concerning female sexuality often have, not a descriptive, but rather a prescriptive character. F.'s article begins with considerations concerning the sexual conceptions found in the OT's creation texts and then seeks to situate OT statements about motherhood, female sexual pleasure, and the restrictions placed on female sexuality within the social structures of ancient Israel. In this connection, F. also addresses the specific vulnerability of women's sexuality and the problem of sexualized violence in biblical metaphorical discourse. She ends by advocating [End Page 1] the development of a "gender-fair" sexual ethic for contemporary church praxis. [Translated from published abstract—C.T.B.] 5. M. J. Geller, "Debunking Ancient Jewish Science," JAOS 137 (2017) 393-400. A recently published collection of articles, entitled Ancient Jewish Science and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature (ed. J. Ben-Dov and S. Sanders, 2014), focuses upon a relatively small group of ancient Jewish texts dealing mainly with astronomical calculations and omens as well as physiognomic omens, and attempts to use these as a basis for reconstructing ancient Jewish science in the Persian and Hellenistic periods. G.'s review essay raises questions regarding the collection's aims and methods and proposes an alternative suggestion for the transfer of technical knowledge from Babylonia to ancient Palestine. [Adapted from published abstract—C.T.B.] 6. Jaco Gericke, "The Meaning of Moses' Life: An Analytic and Comparative-Philosophical Perspective," OTE 30 (2017) 315-36. Against the backdrop...

702 BOOK REVIEWS more points. :Moreover, his theological presuppositions frequently intrude in the explanation. For example, he writes: "Paul greets the Church ... in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, that is, in the faith of the Trinity and of the divinity and humanity of Christ, because our beatitude will consist in knowing them. He mentions only the person of the Father and the incarnate Son, in which two is understood the Holy Spirit who is the bond between the Father and the Son." (p. 5) Again, in discussing 1 Th. 4:4 he distinguishes between venial sin, when concupiscence is present in relations with one's wife, and mortal sin, when adultery is committed. (pp. 30 f.) Modern scholars have not overcome this "hermeneutical circle," though they are more aware of its presence. Thirdly, we occasionally find a theological insight that is of major significance in the development of ontological theology. Perhaps the most important of these in this commentary is Thomas's recognition, in 1 Th. 4:14, of the role of the resurrection of Christ in man's redemption, a role that has only recently been re-discovered by modern theologians. During the last several hundred years theologians commonly had reduced the resurrection to little more than epilogue in the theology of redemption, to an apologetic for Christ's divinity. Redemption was almost exclusively attached to Christ's passion and death. It is embarrassingly clear now that the Scriptures, and especially St. Paul, had already proclaimed the active, if not dominant role of Christ's resurrection in our justification. 1 Th. 4:14 is only one of several Pauline statements on the subject, and not the most forceful at that. Nevertheless, St. Thomas comments unequivocally that " Christ's resurrection is the cause of our resurrection. . . . He is also the efficient cause of our resurrection, for the things done by Christ's humanity were done not only by the power of His human nature, but also by virtue of His divinty united in Him." (p. 35) This is not the place for a detailed discussion of the significance of this insight for a theology of redemption. We might say simply that it would almost justify by itself the publication of this translation of St. Thomas's commentary. Mt. St. Mary's of the West Norwood, Ohio EuGENE H. MALY The Origin and Evolution of the Priesthood. By JAMEs A. MoHLER, S. J. New York: Alba House, 1970. Pp. 15~. $3.95. This book presents an account of the origin and evolution of the Christian priesthood from its beginnings, when it bore the marks of contemporary Jewish governing bodies, to its attainment, during the fourth century, of a degree of perfection rivalling that of the Jewish priesthood of Aaron. At this peak of development, the Christian priesthood, reflecting BOOK REVIEWS 703 the struggles of the Church with secular ruling powers, had come to symbolize the triumph of the Church. The functions of the episcopate, representing the fullness of the priesthood, had become surrounded with something like imperial dignity and splendor. The divine power of bishops and priests was stressed; their human capacities and responsibilities were viewed in their relationship of instrumentality to what God would accomplish within the Church. The author sketches quite summarily the results of his scholarly research which could be expanded, as he must have pursued it, into a volume many times the size of this one. In the main part of the book the exposition is positive and factual, with little evidence of any kind of personal viewpoint. In the introduction, however, the author suggests his conviction that the Church may have reached today a turning point in history which will demand re-examination of the concept of the priesthood . The pastor of souls who, in the past, served as marriage counselor, psychologist, legal advisor, teacher and confessor, now finds many of these tasks taken over by professionally trained lay experts. Even the liturgical services, over which the priest continues to preside, have been opened up more and more to lay participation. Does this mean that the priesthood itself is no longer relevant to the needs of contemporary man? Should the Church now be...