The Earliest Footprint of Jesus: Yeshu ha-Notzri

By Daniel G. Slawter

"Yeshu Ha-Notzri" is the second volume of the historically inspired series, Before the Myth: The Earliest Footprint of Jesus. This book helps assess how the final written stories of Jesus came about. It offers compelling historical details by:

(1) Observing, through close literary analysis, firsthand migration of story development away from original geographical settings focused on Judaism to later Hellenistic environs familiar to Paul and his followers.

(2) Exposing the fallacy of treating Markan tradition as the earliest surviving glimpse of the historical figure.

(3) Replacing this exposed logic with a more dependable, Judaically inspired, profile from an original source tradition.

(4) Spotlighting the figure of Mary Mag′dalene and her crucial role restoring belief among the Nazarene's followers that Yeshu ha-Notzri was indeed Israel's Messiah.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667818528

Book preview

1

Tallit and Tzitzit

Most readers are probably unaware that the story of a religious icon who was crucified and rose from the grave moved through a series of evolutionary steps. From eyewitness village social memories to written post-Palestinian religious dialogue.

Here is a short list of major structural influences that contributed to the final written outcome:

Oral to Written

Rural to Urban

Judaic to Hellenic

Aramaic/Hebrew to Greek

Social to Religious

Most scholars argue themes surrounding various takes on a Hellenistic godman theory.¹ This alleged supernatural figure was born poor but wound up worshipped by, not only his immediate followers, but many who indirectly heard his inspiring words uttered in sayings and parables. Some of these wise words at an early stage may have been written down.

For them the story of Jesus encapsulates many aspects of the synoptic vision. Such a vision was maintained by the original proselytizing disciples and later distributed to religious editors situated in hellenized urban zones.

This two-volume study attempts to refute basic premises behind such popularized notions. They may be theologically enforceable. They may be overwhelmingly accepted by the guild of New Testament scholars. However, in real time these ideas preserved no memories of historical settings. Or historical figures. None whatsoever.

This study attempts to highlight a more historically palatable outlook. Its primary concern is the earliest footprint or memory. Not what happened later amongst religiously oriented redactional interests. The original social memory shared among village kinship groups is what we are after. The most accurate window on history.

To accomplish this end we must revisit the original oral milieu. We must relocate memories back to the first geographical setting: the lower district of rural Galilee. We must re-envision stories maintained in a Judaic (versus Hellenistic) cultural environment. We must shift the building process to a social versus religious venue.

So we need to see that the story of Jesus arose inside Judaic village locales. Within this shared demographic, memories were distributed orally. Talking amongst themselves. They were not literate. They could not read or write. Their ideas were articulated wholly by verbal communication. This theme was touched upon in the previous volume.

These kinship groups may or may not have been influenced by original disciples. They definitely did not witness the Nazarene’s followers behaving as itinerant missionaries promoting a supernatural figure expressed in the final canonical texts. They would have categorically rejected socially unacceptable images of begging poor challenging late second-temple deific beliefs.

These villagers had fields to tend. Families to raise. Camaraderie to share amongst those with identical world views living in their communities. Sharing their bread. Protecting their young ones. Celebrating their way of life. As well as identical religious orientations to revere and celebrate.

This study insists that Yeshu ha-Notzri was first remembered because he healed people living inside the familiar Judaic social world. Healing stories were too close to the challenges of the historical narrative to be arbitrarily cast aside. These first primitive stories were enormously inspirational and while lacking openly devotional themes still offered hope to the poor.

Across the first century, other healers had appeared on the Palestinian scene. Stories were not preserved around their exploits. What finally embedded healing accounts of Yeshu ha-Notzri inside rural village circles resulted from strange rumors circulated around the rabbi’s unanticipated crucifixion. The rumors claimed that somehow he had returned from the grave. The resurrection story soon became a core building block of the original, primitive mythos. And provided sufficient reason to sustain the memory.

This whole line of thinking may be new to many readers. We will next examine a familiar synoptic story. Drilling down on its narrative development, we will offer a glimpse at the maturation process firsthand. Elements of the five structural influences mentioned above (i.e. oral to written, rural to urban, Judaic to Hellenic, Aramaic/Hebrew to Greek, social to religious) will be put into motion. In a practical way.

We will observe physical migration of social and religious attitudes from one geographical region to another. Enormous cultural transitions and social realignments reweaving an original social memory to an entirely alternate story form. We will give readers a genuine opportunity to thoughtfully consider just how the story of Jesus (that we read today) really came about.

Certain episodes in gospel tradition are educational. They offer us, either directly or indirectly, valuable insights into the historical figure. What he was really about. And how his life impacted his authentic social surroundings. How human behavior responded unselfconsciously to his extraordinary inspirational appeal.

On another level we occasionally get to glimpse a true-to-life snapshot of the first-century’s rather complex, multi-regional pathos:

The unique peculiarities in marginal class social settings.

An overpowering kaleidoscope of ongoing human suffering.

At times immense disparities in cultural looks.

Two sundry historical settings broadly described as Israel versus Gentile at times proffered deep contrasts in outlooks on life. The differences incorporated basic worldviews, social attitudes, and religious framing. Rarely (if ever) touched upon by academics, the tale of the woman with a bloody flux, found in all three Synoptic Gospels, comprises one of those rare, penetrating glimpses that offers us an authentic bridge to both worlds. This study initially looks at Mark.

And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. And there was a woman who had had a flow of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, If I touch even his garments, I shall be made well. And immediately the hemorrhage ceased; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone forth from him, immediately turned about in the crowd, and said, Who touched my garments? And his disciples said to him, You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’ And he looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had been done to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. And he said to her, Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease (Mk 5. 24-34, RSV).

For those who did not read the first volume, readers may wish to note that why we have a rather reliable outline of Yeshu ha-Notzri’s life and deeds has nothing to do with writing. Or written texts. From the beginning, oral transmission preserved thin threads of original memories. By far the most accurate version of events. Why? These accounts comprised the earliest preserved links to the Nazarene’s authentic story. The freshest, genuine memories. The most accurate still frames of initial events.²

Absolutely crucial to understand, the previous volume emphasized that the original stories featured links to an oral venue preserved in Palestinian village environments. The various social groups utilized storytelling overseen by village leaders referred to in the ancient setting as elders. The three related elements – group dynamic, storytelling, village elders – were crucial to preserving the earliest accounts. This threefold blend comprised the essential utilitarian communication form that assured preservation of originating memories.

The familiar post-Palestine written Gospels later honored aspects of these baseline oral tales. Admittedly, fewer than we might hope. That was decades past the Nazarene’s timeline. Interpreted into writing entirely within a gentile milieu. In another language (Greek) than the original Galilean Aramaic (possibly Hebrew) of Jesus and his original followers.

Certain aspects of the following popular canonical account bear witness to a quite reliable originating synthesis. The story provides a workable snapshot of our protagonist, Yeshu ha-Notzri. An authentic glimpse of an authentic historical figure ultimately preserved in literary form.

Thus, the profile that we critique below features a surprising number of useful narrative patches and historically trustworthy seams. What we are saying is certain thematic development that retained an authentic glimpse of the original profile. If we want to learn about the historical figure, perhaps this rather brief sketch is a good way to begin.

Again, the woman with a flow of blood is encountered in all three synoptic tracts. The Johannine narrative did not preserve this tale. In each synoptic story the account was spliced into the underlying episode of Ja′irus and his daughter.³ So at some unknown juncture the two accounts were merged together.

Describing such narrative construction, modern-day experts use the term sandwiching.⁴ That is, one preserved memory was at some point sandwiched into another preserved memory by post-Palestinian religious interests.

As far as the suffering woman’s tale, readers were told there was no cure. The condition was long lasting. Physicians had failed. The anonymous female was out of resources. Desperate. Alone.

Beyond the Land of Israel, evaluated inside the ancient Greco-Roman world, few to none who first read this story would have been practicing Jews. Apparently, even in the diaspora, pagan populations avoided Jewish communities. And vice versa.

To again revisit the first book, we established that inside the original Palestinian setting this was a timeline that often depicted segregated ethnic groups. Greeks and Jews were not always on speaking terms. In the Holy Land most geographical territories were either dominated by Greeks or Jews.⁵

The story of the anonymous ailing woman had originally formed inside an Israelite cultic environment far beyond the social strata of hellenized gentiles. Outside Israel, decades later (when this account was transferred to writing) gentiles had little to no working knowledge of Judaism. They had little to no access to the originating tradition.

Throughout this review we have to constantly remember that this memory originally formed in the Jewish homeland. Beyond Palestine, the final written account attempted to transfer an original Israelite cultic viewpoint to a Gentile one. Understandably, some surviving Judaic idiosyncrasies would have confused former pagans.

We don’t get overt impressions in the current text. But inside Palestine the massive Jerusalem temple compound dominated the physical, mental, and spiritual landscape. In turn, during the late second-temple period, all aspects of daily life. This would have constituted a quite significant contrast to the pagan world.

Most readers today will probably not appreciate that just viewing this mammoth architectural wonder, visitors – both Gentile and Jew – entered a transformed perceptional world. For even pagans who witnessed the unique cultic monument, the mere physicality of the colossal structure moved consciousness far past images of gods and goddesses, bacchanal rites, libation rituals, and sacred groves. It is apt to consider that even gentile visitors would begin to wonder what Judaism was all about.

Previously set forth, we know that eventually oral stories of Jesus migrated beyond the Palestinian homeland. The female internal hemorrhage snapshot offers us a rare opportunity to observe innate and diverse cultural beliefs at work. And obvious confusion encountered by the pagan world. Confusion that would ultimately articulate itself in the gospel texts.

We are told by some scholars that the current Synoptic Gospels were derived from existent written texts of unknown origins.⁶ There is no good reason to disbelieve this working hypothesis. So between oral storytelling and the familiar synoptic tales was at least one layer (maybe more) of written tradition.⁷ Though lost to us today.

We need this background to properly engage for readers a reasonably accurate set of visual, moving pictures. We have a preserved common story of a lone female in desperate straits. A Jew. From the Land of Israel. With that said, our access to this account begins after the story was put to writing. Beyond Palestine. In the gentile setting of Paul from Tarsus and his converted followers. Now to move forward.

Important for us to understand, experts today interpret the internal bleeding story using terms like ancient magic, menstrual taboos, and uterine related myths. This approach has wide support among academics.⁸

However, this study would argue that after careful drilldown on the original Palestinian milieu, the prognosis is not so clear. In fact, the modern approach seems at odds with the original narrative setting. This view is in light of the actual historical ambience. An ambience possibly unfamiliar to many scholars today. A few important points highlight this outcome.

We should initiate the discussion, however, by cursorily defending the majority of modern experts. For Greeks and Romans beyond Israel certain words preserved in the bookend Ja′irus scene (i.e. the late synoptic written account placed on either end of the bloody flow tale) would probably have been suspicious. Those words were recorded in Aramaic. Not Greek or Latin (more familiar to gentile populations).

Beyond Palestine a gentile audience would have been confused and (probably) made suspicious by the Aramaic phrase: ’Tal′itha cu′mi’; which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise’ in Mark’s Gospel (Mk 5.41, RSV).

In the post-Palestinian time and place setting, to a Greco-Roman audience such foreign language utterances might have, quite understandably, precipitated calls of magic. One check mark in support of the modern day scholarly view.

For pagan audiences, alongside the strange words were images of human suffering accompanied by uncontrolled, flowing blood. We have to assume, for gentile audiences, these images would have comprised a justifiable signal of dark forces at work.⁹ Another notch supporting the modern expert conclusion defending magic and internal female taboos.

On top of that, reliable ancient testimony takes modern scholarship’s argument further. Within the historical setting, a plethora of evidence available to us endorses a Mediterranean region teeming with occult beliefs surrounding magic.¹⁰

We cannot forget that during his lifetime the Roman emperor Augustus had ordered thousands of parchments containing magical contents destroyed.¹¹ Augustus passed in CE 14. Roughly the midway point of the Nazarene’s lifetime. That is not all.

Shortly after Augustus magicians had even been formally expelled from Rome.¹² At least two reliable accounts come down to us. They stem from 1) the reign of Tiberius (14-37 CE: initiated by the Roman Senate); 2) the reign of Claudius (41-54 CE: initiated by the Senate at the emperor’s command).¹³

In both instances decrees were issued to force all identified citizen magicians into exile. As stated, these extremely unusual actions occurred at least twice across a period of several decades explicitly in the heart of the Roman Empire. We need to bear in mind a particularly important observation. That is, magical practices were far more prevalent in the countryside than in the capital.

What we do know: during this era, in many Mediterranean and Near Eastern settings, local communities would have included individuals who practiced some form of magic.¹⁴ Hard to grasp today. But clearly historical.

So with this background, during a critical point in the Ja′irus story Jesus had uttered an Aramaic phrase unfamiliar to most post-Palestinian readers. Added to that was the mystery surrounding the ailing woman’s bloody internal hemorrhage. Given what we know of the time and place setting, for gentile populations these two inputs alone could conceivably have invoked magic-filled images.¹⁵ Again, this prognosis is consistent with the ancient pagan cultural environment and just what most experts today profess.

However, within this whole line of reasoning something crucial is missing. Till now, the discussion has entirely discounted changes in geographies, diverse population groups, and differing cultural ideologies. We cannot avoid the fact that original Hebraic influences would have contrasted strikingly with later hellenized nuances adapted beyond the Palestinian physical, mental, and spiritual landscape.¹⁶

In these two volumes our intent is to uncover the earliest source tradition. What truly constituted underlying memories behind the original story? The answer is probably quite different than what many scholars today suggest.

In the initial Palestinian setting, an entirely recalibrated story world had first preserved this very intimate snapshot. A unique snapshot of female desperation. If we want to encounter the earliest footprint, momentum must ultimately head us in a Hebraically inspired direction. To the social and cultural surroundings of the original source.

Transmigrated back to Palestine, the flow-of-blood thread looked to a radical thematic reset from the final synoptic texts. In the early first-century Israelite framing, the scene had been cast around a faith-based miracle event. Not magic-filled taboos.

In the original oral format, the spotlight had been directed on certain Hebraic cultic iconography.¹⁷ This type of narrative imagery would have had little to nothing to do with pagan Greco-Roman forms.¹⁸

So it should be re-emphasized that the account had been originally framed inside the sacramental world of late second-temple Judaism. Not in the diasporan polytheism of hellenized story themes and their accompanying visual forms. To uncover the oldest, authentic layer, this point is crucial.

With that said, beyond Palestine many of the scene’s oldest elements had been nonetheless preserved. This point, also, should be emphasized. But rather self-consciously synoptic editors had chosen extremely vague descriptive language. At times almost indecipherable. In the end, however, in all three synoptic texts brief glimpses of an original core were still identifiable.¹⁹

Curiously, within the late written format, an implied audience would not be able to determine why the woman was healed. Readers were never told.²⁰ The woman just knew what had been done to her (Mk 5.33, RSV).

But how did her healing come about? What does all of this perceiving in himself that power had gone forth really mean? Jesus told the woman that your faith has made you well (Mk 5.34, RSV). But abbreviated details in the late written text highlighted nothing about her faith. In the scene’s resolution there was not even a hint of how to to placate a hypothetical live audience’s curiosity.

Whoever first preserved this thread, it is clear in the shared narrative (i.e. combining common elements from all three synoptic stories) that touching the garment was somehow key.

To some extent, this phrase is in fact suggestive of ancient pagan themes. In Greek mythology, for example, gods and goddesses were sometimes adorned with clothing items (girdles, bodices, bands around their waists, etc.) that purportedly possessed magical properties.²¹ Reimagined inside a pagan setting, all three synoptic accounts specifically underlined touching the garment(s). So pagan considerations might have additional merit here as suggested by scholars.

However, digging deeper inside the synoptic story world, we come across another valuable tidbit. This morsal is critical to reimagining the original Hebraic telling.

The other two texts (i.e. Matthew and Luke), while brief, highlighted a massively important incidental (apparently) tossed out by the initial Markan editor:

And behold, a woman who had suffered from a hemorrhage for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment. for she said to herself, If I only touch his garment, I shall be made well (Mt 9.20-21, RSV).

And a woman who had had a flow of blood for twelve years and could not be healed by anyone, came up behind him, and touched the fringe of his garment; and immediately her flow of blood ceased (Lk 8.43-44, RSV).

In the first rendering, the most comprehensive, The Gospel of Mark had initially skipped the fringe of his garment phrase. For observers today, however, this little particular represents the key to properly enumerating the scene.

The narrative unity of this memory and obvious popularity (across the spectrum of the synoptic story world) is unusually compelling. In fact, strangely, basic elements in the garment scene were oddly refrained a second time in two of the three synoptic texts. An exception, though not unprecedented, in canonical literature.

Certain elements in the second-time accounts virtually mirrored each other. This time, without further ado, Mark’s Gospel remembered the keystone fringe of his garment …

And when the men of that place recognized him, they sent round to all that region and brought to him all that were sick, and besought him that they might only touch the fringe of his garment; and as many as touched it were made well (Mt 14.35-36, RSV).

And wherever he came, in villages, cities, or country, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and besought him that they might touch even the fringe of his garment; and as many as touched it were made well (Mk 6.56, RSV).

Altogether, in four of the five ancient pericopae, a laser spotlight had been placed on the fringe of the garment (otherwise missing only in Mark’s first narrative – though not in the second).

In any case, what were post-Palestine religious editors getting at? What were they saying? What was so special about the fringe of the Nazarene’s garment? Consistent with contemporary pagan practices, were some sort of magical properties supposed to inhabit the seams of his apparel?

In the later hellenized social setting this option was certainly possible. The synoptic story world was filled with various pictures of dark forces at work. His Satanic Majesty himself had surfaced in the world of men tempting the Christos Jesus with worldly pleasures (Mt 4.1-11; Mk 1.12-13; Lk 4.1-12). Demons were everywhere. And on numerous occasions even held court with our protagonist (Mt 4.1-11; 8.28-34; 12.22-32; 15.21-28; 17.14-20; Mk 1.12-13, 21-28; 3.20-30; 5.1-20; 7.24-30; 9.14-29; Lk 4.1-13, 31-37, 41; 8.26-39; 9.37-43; 11.14-26).

Considering the synoptic literary approach, when reading these stories, maybe gentile readers really accepted this line of thought. This was the social-cultural environment they knew. Editorial interests living beyond Israelite territorial boundaries would instinctively picture the story of Jesus inside their own active worldview. Certainly not rural Galilee. Or the temple-dominated Holy City in Judea.

So again we need to remember back. The story did not originate in the pagan world of gods and goddesses, witches and wizards, demons and devils. The story had had its roots in the Israelite homeland. The land of prophets, torah, ritual purity and so forth. Yes, the mythic Promised Land. Could worshipping Jews really accept that such true evil inhabited Y-H-V-H’s (not Y-H-W-H: see Appendix ‘A’ in back) own righteous ground? The land of milk and honey?

Probably unfamiliar to most readers, and certainly unfamiliar to the traditions of the early prophets, this study argues that inside the Land of Israel demon possession and similar themes such as ancient magic, menstrual taboos, and uterine related myths were disconnected from the Nazarene’s historical timeline. Even decades after.

Within the original Palestinian setting, many hellenized ideas attached to female impurity would have been nixed by Judaism’s extreme focus on ritual purity and related subject matter. Especially with regard to menstrual related themes. The following discussion prominently frames the idea of demon possession in the Land of Israel. Not that female impurity would have been literally linked to possession per se.

Nonetheless, this background is necessary to highlight the original bloody flux story in its proper context. This will help us to sharpen a far more credible historical lens on the ailing woman’s unique tale. While demon possession and exorcism are not this story’s focus, the basic beliefs and cultural attitudes inherent in such an outlook to some extent coincided with interpretations of the ailing woman’s unfortunate plight.

Broadly viewed, a practical definition of exorcism is something like commanding or compelling an individual by invoking an otherworldly power.²²

Did Jesus practice exorcism? Most modern scholars would consider this question immaterial to New Testament studies. Supported by their readings of the Synoptic Gospels, this topic is rarely even addressed anymore. Nearly all experts take for granted that he did.

However, strictly viewed in the context of history, is this conclusion right? Could the woman with the internal hemorrhage in an authentic ancient Israelite environment be subject to ancient magic, menstrual taboos, and uterine related myths claimed by most modern scholars?

Demon possession in the ancient world represents a very broad subject. While the woman’s plight did not directly coincide, nevertheless, since exorcism literally dominated the synoptic stories, and since the vast majority of contemporary scholars view the exorcism topic as authentically reflected in the three synoptic tracts, we will focus momentarily on exorcism. This will, hopefully, in an indirect way, shed light on a more historically compatible profile of the Israelite woman’s actual predicament.

New Testament scholarship’s defense of exorcism at the time of Jesus comes from a broad spectrum of ancient sources. At least, that is what the guild wants to tell us. According to their analyses, following is a representative inventory of supporting literature:

1 Enoch

Tobit

Jubilees

Qumran Scrolls

Josephus

Philo of Alexandria

Mishna

Lucian of Samosata

Apollonius of Tyrana

Testament of Solomon²³

Most scholars would probably conclude that the list above, while not exhaustive, represents a fair survey of external sources. If aspects of these accounts are compatible with synoptic literature, then, in their eyes, we are certainly moving forward.

According to expert research, we would have identified common links between the gospels and independent social attitudes composed in an authentic historical era. Documentary sources that to some extent would corroborate related narrative development in the synoptic stories. And, in turn, reflect more favorably on their critiques of our ailing woman. Thus, confirmation within the list would provide these scholars with fair historical precedent for defending key aspects of synoptic tradition.

Following is a brief line-by-line reply to the ancient popular testimony categorically defended by most experts today. This study’s rebuttal comments track each listing.

1 ENOCH

This text was written centuries before Jesus. The account envisioned a thought world where a heavenly temple had replaced the Jerusalem temple.²⁴ Its so-called exorcism contained very few, if any, synoptic motifs.

1 Enoch comes down to us from the third century BCE. Certain details in the Enochic myth (En 6-11) tell us, unequivocally, that the healing cited here is not an example of exorcism identifiable in synoptic tradition.²⁵ Again, the so-called exorcism in this account did not feature parallels in synoptic literature.

Nevertheless, we must point out that 1 Enoch was cited in Jude (14-15) and possibly 1 Peter (3.19) as well as 2 Peter (2.2-5). This suggests that the apocalyptic text may authentically reflect popular beliefs of the first century period.²⁶

No doubt, many early Christians at some point were exposed to the Enochic myth. But the three noted documents were produced decades after Jesus (sometime between 60 and 70 CE – Barton, et al. 1995, 1 Peter, 2 Peter, Jude, 230). And authored in pagan settings. Not in Palestine. That is only one small, though critical, point related to this rather insightful claim. The three Christian Testament documents just cited were formulated beyond the Land of Israel, decades beyond the life of the historical figure.

The weightier aspect is that 1 Enoch contained no direct links to the claims of the synoptic stories as they exist today. Its familiarity to Christians three decades or more after Jesus proves nothing in a historical sense. Other than Christ believers beyond Palestine may have shared similar ideas about evil spirits expounded three centuries prior to their time.

This social attitude would have been consistent with the attitudes of hellenized local populations. The thinking expressed in these three documents would have reflected contemporary gentile beliefs. Entirely removed from the Land of Israel.

TOBIT

The Book of Tobit was also probably written several centuries before Jesus. This is the only account depicting a named demon in all of Hebrew literature prior to the destruction of the Second Temple.²⁷ When set against the first-century cultural milieu, the text depicting exorcism per se is barely recognizable.

Tobit was probably written between 225 and 175 BCE.²⁸ While a demon was expelled, scholars are uncertain if an exorcism per se was actually performed.²⁹ Thus Tobit leaves major unanswered questions as to thematic similarities with the alleged exorcising activities of Jesus hundreds of years later.

Nevertheless, experts have looked at Tobit as the oldest example of related behavior in Judaic written tradition.³⁰ Anything stated in this context must be prefaced by an essential understanding that in the final analysis Tobit had very little, if anything, in common with the synoptic stories.³¹

So the account of Tobit would have had very tentative connections to the attitudes and behaviors of rabbi Jesus. That is, of course, if he, in fact, performed exorcisms at all.

JUBILEES

This story recalled Noah. Yes, the same Noah of the Great Flood. The account included an appearance by Satan. The same Satan depicted today in modern horror films. Israel’s survival was pinned on the prospect of defeating Satan. ³²

Ancient herbal medicines from plants were also cited in alleged acts of exorcism. This story has no semblance with synoptic thematic development in the slightest.

At its core, the mythical Noah-dominated Jubilees story contained a very slim thread to first-century synoptic tradition. In the context of a very slim thread, contrary to all the synoptic stories, in Jubilees Noah used medicines in exorcism (Jub 10.10-13).³³ A far cry from alleged related acts performed by Jesus.

In conjunction with this picture, an angel taught Noah how to heal through plant or herbal remedies.³⁴ Does this in the slightest suggest Yeshu ha-Notzri or any tradition(s) associated with his memory?

In the end, Jubilees even included fallen angels and giants.³⁵ For obvious reasons, optimistically, Jubilees has proven to be a problematic link to Jesus and synoptic tradition.

QUMRAN SCROLLS

Out of all the Qumran materials, only one document actually portrayed an exorcist at work (Genesis Apocryphon).³⁶ But that portrayal differed markedly with the synoptics.³⁷

While modern scholars have rejoiced in an abundance of presumed exorcism materials from the Qumran collection, this conclusion is categorically unsupported by the evidence. The takeaway for this study: any legitimate inferences to exorcism in the Qumran scrolls are entirely disconnected from synoptic tradition.

JOSEPHUS

Pertaining specifically to the Land of Israel, with the account of Eleazar (Ant 8.42), this story represents the only known Jewish exorcism report of the first century. Again, this story is the only account available to us from first-century Judaic sources preserving a memory in any way associated with synoptic depictions of exorcism. However, from there the alleged evidence trail dries up. Again, context is key. The Josephus account was formulated many decades after the life of Jesus.

Josephus referred to this incident as an example of wisdom demonstrated by such figures as Solomon. The wisdom reference is a Hellenistic allusion, hardly compatible with the