A dozen or more elbowed their way to the front and were formally interrogated by Ananias, who was known for his skill in crossexamination. Most of the witnesses reported isolated acts in which Jesus had apparently violated the Sabbath, but each told of a different occasion, no two the same, so their otherwise damaging evidence had to be disallowed.
Caiaphas called for more witnesses, and more struggled through the press to the front of the court. Some of these were riffraff from the streets who wanted to have a part in this great hour, but they were expelled after their false testimony proved ridiculous. Other witnesses agreed on technically incriminating evidence, but Ananias hesitated to admit it when it dealt with a kindly or serviceable action of Jesus such as healing on the Sabbath day, for example. Even the learned rabbis disagreed on that, though it was firm tradition that medical help was allowed only if life itself were in danger. A mere broken leg, for example, could not be set on the Sabbath.
Further evidence was offered, but even statements about the same incident did not tally. Finally Ananias thought he could derive a solid charge from the allegations of two men who agreed that Jesus had said, “I will destroy this temple, and rebuild it in three days.” Since any threat against the temple was capital blasphemy, this charge alone, if proved, could result in the death sentence, and Ananias pursued it like a hawk.
Then someone from the crowd shouted, “Yeshu meant the ‘temple’ of his body, not the great temple.” A loud murmuring developed, and Caiaphas called for order. Then, fixing a piercing glare at the defendant, he asked, “Have you no answer to the charges these witnesses bring against you?”
Jesus did not reply. Legally, he did not have to, since no proven evidence had been introduced into the proceedings. Caiaphas knew it. For the last minutes he had been deploring the situation which had brought him to this legal impasse. Because of the inordinate haste in this trial, they had neglected to weed out the false witnesses and secure those with truly incriminating evidence. It was a wretched oversight on his part. In an agony of frustration, he realized that the goal to which he had been pressing over the past months might now elude him. For unless a proven charge were introduced, the prosecution would collapse and the Sanhedrin would be legally bound to declare Jesus innocent and free him. That would render him more popular than ever with the people, while disastrously embarrassing the religious establishment in Jerusalem.
All eyes in the hall were fastened on Caiaphas. As a “Caiaphas” (meaning inquisitor), he was belying his name. Perspiring profusely, he groped for fundamentals. What evidence did he have?…Why did he despise Yeshu Hannosri? Four reasons: (1) he was a lawbreaking false prophet, who deceived the people with dangerous doctrines; (2) he attacked the Jewish authorities abusively; (3) he was probably planning sedition, which would lead to Roman intervention; and (4) he did not repudiate Messianic claims. Alas, without proper witnesses, no case could be constructed on the first three charges…But the fourth! No witnesses? Why not create seventy of them!
Caiaphas stood up from his judiciary seat and walked over to the prisoner. The other members of the Sanhedrin also rose to their feet, for custom demanded this honor for the president. “You will not answer these charges?” the high priest asked. “Then perhaps you will respond to this: I adjure you by the Living God to tell us…Are you the Messiah? Are you the Son of God?”
Caiaphas had prefaced the question with the dreaded Oath of the Covenant. Once it had been spoken, even a reply of silence would be criminal, while a false answer would be damnable. But the question need not have been charged with this explosive, for the mysterious time to which Jesus had repeatedly referred in his public ministry when he said, “My hour has not yet come,” had now come in fact.
“Are you the Son of God?” Caiaphas repeated.
His gaze penetrating to the very soul of the high priest, Jesus replied, “I am…as you have said. And you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the power of God.”
There it was, an answer complete and categorical. Caiaphas tore his priestly garment in fury. Straining to be heard above the great commotion, he cried, “Blasphemy! Do we need any further witnesses? You’ve heard his blasphemy. You are now the witnesses! What is your judgment?”
Each member of the Sanhedrin would now have to decide whether Jesus’ statement was sober truth, or the worst blasphemy a Jew could frame with his mouth. Caiaphas had just said it was the latter, virtually a directed verdict of capital blasphemy, but the Sanhedrists might think differently.
All attention now focused on the youngest of the seventy members of the Sanhedrin, who was sitting at the edge of the semicircle, for, in standard procedure, the voting would begin with him and end with the eldest member, the president casting the final vote. The youthful Sanhedrist stood up in the hushed chamber and said, “He is worthy of death.”
A chorus of whispering erupted. The next member got up and said the same. Commotion in the hall rose steadily as the tally continued, “Guilty.” “Death.”
A look of satisfaction softened the features of Joseph Caiaphas, and when thirty-seven condemnations were recorded, he had triumphed. Only a simple majority of two votes was necessary for a sentence of condemnation. Nevertheless, all seventy would be polled.
When the clerk read the name Joseph of Arimathea, a richly clad man of medium build stood up and said, “I abstain.” There was a brief hubbub in the chamber and Caiaphas glared at Joseph, but then the voting continued.
One more abstention from a man called Nicodemus caused a flurry, but finally Caiaphas cast his concluding vote and announced, “Brethren, there are 69 votes for condemnation and 2 abstentions. Yeshu Hannosri is herewith sentenced to death.”
The hall broke into a great commotion of shouts and applause as the Sanhedrin adjourned. Temple police now grabbed Jesus and hauled him into the courtyard, where they beat and abused him, standard procedure for one condemned. Several spit in his face, while others blindfolded him and taunted, “Now, prophesy for us, you Messiah, who just slapped you?”
One glaring difficulty remained. The trial was illegal, according to Jewish law, since only cases involving monetary matters were heard after sunset. Capital trials could take place only in the daytime. That technicality was removed shortly after dawn the next day, when Jesus was brought before an official session of the Great Sanhedrin, which convened on the temple mount. After bare formalities, Caiaphas again requested a verdict from members of the Sanhedrin. Once more the court clerk read off each name, beginning with the youngest. Each, in turn, arose and replied, “Death,” until, except for the same two abstentions, another unanimous decision was reached.
A final complication was simply disregarded. To avoid hasty convictions, Jewish law stated that a capital sentence could not be pronounced until the day following a trial. Therefore a Friday trial which ended in condemnation was illegal, since it would be followed by the Sabbath, when sentencing or execution were impossible. The only verdict permitted a court on Friday, if it took formal action, was acquittal. But in this emergency, the Sanhedrin did not feel bound by such a restriction.
If Judea were not a Roman province, Jesus would now have been executed by stoning, probably below the east wall of Jerusalem. On the way there, a herald would have preceded the execution detail, calling:
Yeshu Hannosri, son of Mary of Nazareth, is going forth to be stoned because he has uttered blasphemy and is a false prophet and deceiver. Members of the Sanhedrin are witnesses against him. If anyone knows anything in favor of his acquittal, let him come and plead it.