Holes in the story: did the crowds turn against Jesus at the end?

Ever wondered why the Jerusalem crowds turned against Jesus so abruptly—cheering him into the city at the start of the week, yelling for him to be crucified at the end of it? Lots of scholars think it all very improbable. We’ll get to that in a moment, but first some reflections on a hermeneutic that fuses narrative and history.

The “historical” part of a narrative-historical hermeneutic means that the New Testament speaks of the experiences of a first century community within its proper historical horizons. The “narrative” part registers the fact that these experiences are presented to the reader through the semi-opaque medium of literary objects that in general terms tell—or, at least, presuppose—a prophetically inspired story about the past, present, and future of that community. What that means is that we cannot talk about the meaning of the New Testament without taking into account the constraints both of historical perspective and of literary form.

Now here’s an example of how history and literature may interact. The last essay in Neil Elliott’s Paul the Jew under Roman Rule: Collected Essays (2024) is entitled ‘Qui Bono? Power Relations and the Work “within Judaism” Language Does.’ That pretty much captures the two central themes of the book: Paul within Judaism and Paul within the Roman Empire.

(It’s ironic, given the subject matter, that the Latinism is wrong. It should be “Cui Bono”—“To whom the good? Who stands to benefit?”)

In the essay, Elliott argues, among other things, that the production of history consists in both the inclusion and the exclusion of the parts that make up a story. He quotes the Marxist historian Michel-Rolph Trouillot: “silences are inherent in history because any single event enters history with some of its constituent parts missing” (284).

A “weighty example” of such narrative silences or “absences,” in Elliott’s view, is the “peculiar disappearance of the enthusiastic crowd that surrounded Jesus as he entered Jerusalem in his last days, according to the Synoptics.”

We are not told how they were involved (if they were) in Jesus’ action in the Temple, or how their motives in hailing Jesus as anointed deliverer related to his motives in that action (if they did), or whither the crowd went when Jesus and his disciples withdrew from the city afterward (if they did, as in Matthew and Mark). The Gospels do not describe how this crowd came to be replaced by the furious mob that appears before Pilate, calling for Jesus’ death; or, if it is the same crowd, how their “wholesale defection” was brought about overnight—to use Paula Fredriksen’s phrase for a plot development she has convincingly declared historically improbable. (286)

Elliott’s collection of essays is an excellent read, I have high regard for the work of Paula Fredriksen, and the general point is undoubtedly correct that what is omitted from a narrative can be as significant as what is included. But I don’t think that the behaviour of the crowds in the last week is as problematic, either narratively or historically, as Elliott and Fredriksen suppose.

The crowd which accompanies Jesus into Jerusalem

Jesus and his disciples leave Jericho accompanied by a “sizeable crowd” (Mk. 10:46). He is acclaimed by a blind beggar, Bartimaeus, as “Son of David,” which establishes the messianic tenor of the narrative. Bartimaeus has his sight restored and he follows Jesus “on the way.” The crowd, however, is not mentioned again, and we should probably assume that, having witnessed the healing, they return home.

Jesus has somehow contrived to have a colt put at his disposal as they approach Jerusalem. Two disciples bring the animal and throw their cloaks on its back, and Jesus mounts.

As they set off on this last stage of the journey, “many spread their cloaks on the road and others rushes, having cut them from the fields” (11:8*). Mark then says that ‘those preceding and those following were shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one coming in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David. Hosanna in the highest”’ (11:9-10*).

Matthew speaks of “the crowd” and “the crowds” at this point (Matt. 21:8-9), but since we have just been told that the two disciples put their cloaks on the colt, it seems likely that “the crowd” is a reference to the “throng” of disciples. Most of the disciples spread their cloaks on the road; some spread branches. One group goes ahead of him, another group follows behind.

The “crowd” in this case is not an indeterminate mass of ordinary people. The reference is to a particular “group or company of people with common interests or of distinctive status” (BDAG 1.b.β).

• We have a similar usage when Judas comes to Jesus in Gethsemane with “a crowd with swords and sticks from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders” (14:43*). This is a largish group with a common purpose, assembled by the authorities.
• Levi holds a dinner for Jesus, and there is a “large crowd of tax collectors and others who were reclining with them” (Lk. 5:29). This is not an indeterminate throng or mob; it is a particular “group or company.”
• Luke also distinguishes between the “great crowd (ochlos)” of disciples and a “great multitude (plēthos) of people from all Judea and Jerusalem and the seacoast of Tyre and Sidon” who gather to listen to Jesus (Lk. 6:17).
• When Peter broaches the question of who will replace Judas, we are told that the “crowd” or company of “names” was about 120 (Acts 1:15).
• As the number of disciples grew in Jerusalem, a “great crowd of the priests were becoming obedient to the faith” (Acts 6:7).

So the “crowd” that accompanies Jesus in such exuberant fashion is, as Luke says expressly, the “whole multitude (plēthos) of his disciples” (Lk. 19:37). They are presumably witting performers in this prophetic mummers’ play that Jesus has staged. They are not the general population of Jerusalem, but they represent them symbolically in this boisterous imitation of a royal parousia—the coming of a king to his city.

I half wonder if it wasn’t in fact intended as a parody of current models of Jewish kingship….

The crowds in the temple

The next day, Jesus lays into the traders and money-changers in the temple. This is another piece of prophetic drama with its origins in the scriptures. He enacts the violence that will come upon the temple because it has been made a den of robbers. This sparks a series of disputes with his opponents in thecrowded courts of the temple.

• The chief priests and scribes are alarmed. They are “seeking how they might destroy him; for they feared him, for all the crowd were astonished at his teaching” (11:18*).
• When they demand to know by what authority he does things, Jesus puts a question back to them: “The baptism of John—was it from heaven or from people?” (11:30*). They prevaricate because “they were afraid of the crowd, for they all held John really to have been a prophet” (11:32*).
• Thirdly, the chief priests and scribes realise that Jesus has told the parable of the wicked tenants against them. They want to arrest him but “feared the crowd” (12:12).
• When Jesus seemingly asserts that the Christ is David’s lord, not his son, the “great crowd was hearing him gladly” (12:37*).

Shortly after, Jesus leaves the temple with his disciples and declares that the splendid edifice will be destroyed: “There will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down” (Mk. 13:2).

No connection is made between the crowd of onlookers in the temple and the largish group of followers which so ostentatiously celebrated Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem We are given the impression, I think, of a population, already galvanised by John’s urgent call to repentance and declaration of messianic hope (1:4-8), now reacting for the first time to the presence of Jesus in their midst.

The furious mob

In Elliott’s view the Gospels do not explain the sudden appearance of a “furious mob” at Jesus’ trial before Pilate. I’m not so sure.

Mark says that “the crowd, having come forward, began to ask (Pilate to do) just as he used to do for them” (15:8*).

Where has this crowd come from?

After his arrest Jesus is brought to the house of the high priest, and “all the chief priests and the elders and the scribes came together” (14:53). So we have a gathering of “the chief priests and the whole council” trying to establish testimony against Jesus in order to be able to put him to death. Eventually, he is judged to have uttered blasphemy, and “they all condemned him as deserving death” (14:64).

First thing the next day, “having held a consultation, the chief priests with the elders and scribes and the whole council, having bound Jesus, led him away and delivered him to Pilate” (15:1*). My rather inelegant, but I think precise, translation suggests that the whole Sanhedrin is present when Pilate interrogates Jesus.

Then we have the dubious prisoner release episode (15:6-15). There are a number of historical issues we could discuss here, but we’ll stick with the part played by the crowd in the story.

Mark says that at the feast Pilate used to release “for them” one prisoner for whom they asked. In the frame of the narrative, “for them” appears to refer to those men who brought Jesus before Pilate at his official residence: the chief priests and the whole council. We are given no reason to think that ordinary citizens are present.

At this point, “the crowd” begins to ask Pilate to do what he customarily did “for them”—to release a prisoner. I suggest that this is another case of ochlos signifying a “group or company of people with common interests or of distinctive status”—the mass of the council in contrast to the small number of chief priests who are accusing Jesus of many things.

Pilate is confronted by the leaders of Israel. He used to release a prisoner “for them.” Now the “crowd” of council members asks him to release a prisoner “for them.”

The governor then probes to see if there is a fault line between council and the chief priests, because he knows that the envious chief priests were principally responsible for the arrest of Jesus (15:10). But the chief priests stir up the Sanhedrin crowd, and in compliance they demand the release of Barabbas and the death of the king of the Jews.

Several crowds, no obvious holes

So there is the throng of disciples which accompanies Jesus into Jerusalem. There are the crowds in the temple who have not forgotten John’s reformist programme and are impressed by Jesus’ anti-establishment behaviour. There is the armed mob sent by the chief priests, scribes, and elders to arrest Jesus. And there is the crowd that has access to the impromptu arraignment of Jesus before Pilate, which calls for the release of Barabbas and the substitutionary crucifixion of Jesus.

The argument about the council may not work, admittedly.

Matthew seems to have understood Mark differently. The governor was accustomed to release a prisoner “for the crowd,” rather than “for them,” which then needed to gather. Pilate is alarmed by the “clamour” and washes his hands of the matter (Matt. 27:15-26).

Luke tells the story a little differently. The “whole multitude (plēthos)” of the elders of Israel—chief priests, scribes, and council—bring Jesus before Pilate. Jesus is sent to Herod, and when he comes back, Pilate “called together the chief priests and the rulers and the people” and tells them that neither he nor Herod has found any guilt in the man. At this, ‘they all cried out together, “Away with this man, and release to us Barabbas”’ (Lk. 23:13-18).

We might wonder whether Luke meant “rulers of the people” (cf. Acts 4:8; 23:5), but the distinction occurs again in his account of the crucifixion:

And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And they cast lots to divide his garments. And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!” (Lk. 23:33-35)

So it appears that there were a number of people at the trial before Pilate who were not party members, so to speak, who shouted for the release of Barabbas, and who became silent—rueful, bemused, indifferent?—witnesses of the crucifixion.

But either way, we are left with a rather complex picture of the crowd movements in the last week Jesus’ life. The disciples arrive as enthusiastic street performers but end up in hiding. The presence of the temple crowds raises the tensions, but they are not given direct agency. If the “crowd” calling for Jesus’ crucifixion is not the gathered council members, then they may well be the mob sent by the chief priests, scribes, and elders to arrest Jesus.

The storytelling is highly compressed. We cannot expect to know everything. But it doesn’t seem to me to be fundamentally full of holes.