There were no religious leaders in the Bible.
At least not in the way we currently think of “religious leaders,” as though they were something separate from “civic” or “political” or just “regular” leaders.
It might seem like a weird distinction to make, because we do see priests in the Bible. We see Sadducees and Pharisees. We see Sanhedrin councils. We see prophets. We see judges and kings and governors and satraps and tetrarchs and caesars. And these seem like religious leaders and civic leaders.
But that’s largely because we live in a world in which “church” and “state” are separate spheres. And hose spheres weren’t really a thing in the world that produced the Bible.
Fundamentally, “religion” is about the significance a group of people attributes to signs, stories, and symbols. “Religion” determines how they understand the start of life, and the rites, rituals, and celebrations they use to mark and celebrate the occasion. “Religion” describes the narratives we tell about the body and soul when it comes time to reckon with death. For most of human history, your religion has been more determined by your ethnicity than it has been by voluntary adherence to any doctrine or creed.
The idea that our personal beliefs determined our religious identity is relatively recent in the grand scheme of history, and Christianity was a major factor in that shift. The first “Christians” were not born that way. They chose to believe that God was revealed in a human. A man named Jesus from Nazareth. But, for the most part, “religion” was just something you sort of inherited based on where and to whom you were born. (Christianity often functions like that today, by the way. It’s a large part of why Anabaptists were regarded as heretics in the 16th century for suggesting that people weren’t really Christians until/unless they voluntarily decided to follow Jesus and chose baptism for themselves, instead of accepting an involuntary infant baptism.)
So a “religious” leader wasn’t someone who was relegated to that place you went on the weekends if you happened to believe certain things. “Religious” leaders were just leaders. Where kings and emperors lead military campaigns and oversaw governors (who oversaw bureaucracies and administrations, who often oversaw local cultic/“religious” activities), “religious leaders” were the ones who were most integral in the rhythmic, ritual activities of people. They were the keepers of stories and histories—equal parts officiants and archivists. The people we now think of as “religious leaders” were the librarians, griots, and masters of ceremony for their people.
But there weren’t separate civic & religious spheres. That’s why in the books of Kings & Chronicles, kings are judged not by how well they performed in battle, but by whether or not they adhered to proper worship. That’s why prophets held kings (and nations) to account for matters of justice. That’s why a priest (named Samuel) also served as a judge, a prophet, and the human agent for the institution of Israel’s monarchy. “Religion” was just a part of life, not something that people chose to participate in and keep separate from the real world.
Separate religious & civic spheres were only necessary once civilizations began joining ethnicities with different “religions” and decided that democratic principles were valuable.
So when we say that Jesus was killed by “religious leaders,” we’re making things up.
A common narrative is that “religious leaders” turned Jesus over to Pontius Pilate and pressured him into crucifying Jesus. And this narrative seems to be supported by “a plain reading” of scripture… until you entertain the idea that there are no “religious leaders” in scripture.
To accept this narrative requires us to believe that Pontius Pilate was afraid of the Jewish people under his jurisdiction, despite the fact that scripture tells us the exact opposite. And, while a couple of scriptures might suggest that Pilate was intimidated by the local Jewish populace, a closer reading of John 19 shows that Pilate’s fear was not of the local populace, but of his bosses.
If I were to provide a “Treyslation” of the scene, I’d have to step into my role as a father.
There are times when my kids get to arguing, and then they try to call me in to settle a matter. That’s the Jerusalem leaders taking Jesus to Pilate. (Mind you, Pilate doesn’t actually live in Jerusalem. He lives in Caesarea Maritime. He just comes down to Jerusalem for important festivals to make sure the streets don’t get too wild). More often than not tho, I’m not tryna hear nothin’ they gotta say. I want them to figure it out themselves. And Pilate wasn’t any different. But sometimes, my kids insist that the matter can’t be settled among themselves. It’s a real serious matter that demands paternal attention. But usually, I’m just tryna chill. There’s one card that’ll put me to action every time, though. If whatever they’ve gotten into is going to upset my wife… I’m gonna put an end to it. And they know that. Which is why their response to me asking them if they can figure it out themselves usually begins with “but Mommy said….”
That’s where we find ourselves with the Jerusalem leaders bringing Jesus to Pilate for trial. They know Pilate isn’t concerned with Jewish customs. That’s why they’re very specific about which one of their codes Jesus broke. Claiming to be the Son of God isn’t just a “religious” problem. That’s a problem problem. Because if people start believing that, they’re liable to get rowdy. And if they get rowdy, Pilate gotta get to regulatin’. Because his job isn’t peacemaking. The Romans made “peace” (Pax Romana) the moment they conquered a people and their land. His job is peacekeeping. That’s why, in each of the synoptic gospel accounts (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), Pilate relents to “the crowd” (or “the mob”) when it appears that the choices are crucify Jesus or witness a riot. Pilot has one job. The only reason he is in Jerusalem at that moment is to keep the peace. He’s there for crowd control. He doesn’t see a group of “religious” fanatics going berserk over purity of doctrine. He sees a bunch of people from a subjugated nation getting unruly, putting his job as an agent of the Roman Empire in jeopardy.
Why should any of this matter?
That’s a mighty fine question you’ve asked.
When we try to pin the blame for Jesus’ barbaric death on “religious” leaders, we’re missing the point. Jesus did not lay his life down for doctrinal purity. Jesus didn’t get stoned to death for violating the law of Moses. He was nailed to a cross as one who disturbed the “peace” of Rome. Jesus laid his life down to show us the whole truth about humanity.
It is not Jewish, Samaritan, Pagan, Christian, or any other “religious” power that drives nails through the body of Jesus.
It is the facade of peace and justice that aims to destroy the very image of God among us.
But Jesus’s death destroys that illusion.
And Jesus’s resurrection shows us the power of the real thing.
The peace of God—the type Jesus thought was worth dying for—is the sort of peace that disrupts the world around us.
It is the peace of creation. It is the peace that brings order to chaos. It is the peace that flattens hierarchies and disparity. It is the peace that makes the world a place where even the disabled can thrive. It is the peace where the poor are not exploited. It is a peace where we can stand in front of power and tell the truth about who we are.
It is the peace that boldly declares: I am a child of the Creator of the universe, and I will not pretend otherwise.
This dichotomy of the "the “peace” of Rome" and God's peace is very interesting, and something I will be chewing on for a while. "It is the facade of peace and justice that aims to destroy the very image of God among us." is a bar and a half!
Yet again you've given me something deeper to think about...