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Today, Good Friday, I’ve been meditating on the line from Matthew (27:25), spoken by the enraged Jews in response to Pilate’s continual efforts to set Jesus free: “His blood be on us and on our children.”
These words appear only in the Gospel of Matthew. It isn’t clear what we should literally take them to mean in any case — it seems unlikely that the crowd shouted this “all with one voice,” as it were, though we can fairly suppose that words to this effect must have been heard from multiple mouths. Gibson took some grief for putting this phrase into his Passion film, on the grounds that it has sometimes been used as a justification for tormenting the Jews as “Christ-killers.” He eventually agreed to take it out… but in fact he only removed the English subtitle, not the actual words, which rock-star-atheist Christopher Hitchens immediately took as evidence for Gibson’s true anti-Semitism.
Nobody should let the furor of all that silliness obscure their meditations on these profound words. I sometimes feel that the “felix culpa” puzzle of St. Paul is all encapsulated in this one line. Here we see the Jews ostensibly (and in their own minds) asking for something very evil — that Our Lord, though wholly innocent and good, should be put to death. But at the same time, in fact, they are pleading for something wonderful — that His blood should mark them and their children forever. For, as we know, the Blood of the Lamb has the power to redeem them from this and all their other sins. We can hardly help but think of the blood of the Passover, which marked the doors of their ancestors and thus saved their children from the angel of death. Mankind’s greatest sin, and its plea for redemption, are captured all in this one sentence.
I was looking through the Catena Aurea this morning, hoping to find something on this passage, but there was nothing. If anyone knows of anything good that has been written on it, please do share.
St. Louis-Marie de Montfort,
Pope St. Pius X,
St. Joseph,
St. Ambrose of Milan,
St. Thomas Aquinas,
St. Francis (and St. Clare),
St. Catherine of Siena,
St. Alphonsus Ligouri,
St. John Chrysostom,
“It isn’t clear what we should literally take them to mean in any case”
I disagree — it is clear. In the preceding verse (St. Matt. 27.24) we see, “taking water [Pilate] washed his hands before the people, saying: I am innocent of the blood of this just man; look you to it.” Pilate lamely attempted to deny responsibility by ceremonially washing his hands of Christ’s Blood. The crowd responded in kind. They virtually said, “YOU may deny responsibility, but we accept it. We do not see the Blood as something to be washed off.” Pilate’s reference to the Blood and the crowd’s reference to it need to be taken together.
“it seems unlikely that the crowd shouted this “all with one voice,” as it were, though we can fairly suppose that words to this effect must have been heard from multiple mouths.”
The verse says, “And the whole people answering said.” In verse 22, “Let him be crucified” is prefaced “They say all.” “Whole” and “all” indicate pretty clearly that this was something more than just “multiple mouths” in the crowd. How could this be? I don’t think this was a spontaneous crowd spontaneously shouting the same words. In verse 20, it says, “But the chief priests and ancients persuaded the people, that they should ask Barabbas, and make Jesus away.” If you know how mobs work, probably the Chief Priest or one of his lieutenants shouted the answer first, with the expectation that the crowd would repeat it. Then they could fall to chanting the words like a slogan. (Is this how it is presented in “The Passion”?) If the crowds all shouted their own demands out of synch with anyone else, how was any message supposed to be sent? In any case, the verse say, “the whole people,” meaning of course the people there in the courtyard (I’m not disputing the “words to this effect part”).
Oh, certainly Pilate’s words about the Blood, and the crowd’s reply, need to be taken together. I just don’t think we need take it more literally than the text intended — for example, the “all” needn’t be taken to imply that literally every person present said it. We wouldn’t normally mean to be quite that literal when we say, “and the people were all yelling…”
I guess what I had in mind was something more like this: someone yells out the words, and lots of people on their own hear it, like it, and start echoing it on their own. Not in unison, Borglike, but more in a wave. That seems to capture the sense of the text, and seems a lot more plausible when you imagine an angry mob of people. And you can certainly imagine something like that happening with the words “Not this man but Barabbas” or “Crucify Him!”
” for example, the “all” needn’t be taken to imply that literally every person present said it. ”
So what you meant was, “It *is* pretty clear what we should literally take them to mean.” Good, we agree.
Whatever. I just meant that the text was ambiguous as to whether they were all supposed to be speaking simultaneously, or in a wave, or what have you. Imagination can fill in the spaces a bit. Probably partly what was in my mind was those silly people (like Hitchens) who somehow think it’s a “problem” that Matthew is the only Gospel that includes this particular line. Doesn’t seem like any big problem to me — presumably it was a crazy scene with lots of shouting and screaming. Different words and details might have stuck in different witnesses’ minds.
Here’s Cornelius A Lapide commenting on this passage: “Let the guilt thou fearest be transferred from thee to us. If there be any guilt, may we and our posterity atone for it. But we do not acknowledge any guilt, and consequently, as not fearing any punishment, we boldly call it down on ourselves. And thus have they subjected not only themselves, but their very latest descendants, to God’s displeasure. They feel it indeed to this day in its full force, in being scattered over all the world, without city, or temple, or sacrifice, or priest, or prince, and being a subject race in all countries. It was, too, in punishment for Christ’s crucifixion that Titus ordered five hundred Jews to be crucified every day at the siege of Jerusalem, as they crowded out of the city in search of food, ‘so that at last there was no room for the crosses, and no crosses for the bodies’ (Josephus B. J., VI 12) ‘This curse,’ says Jerome, ‘rests on them even to this day, and the blood of the Lord in not taken from them,’ as Daniel fortold (IX 27)
From verse 20 it is evident that that the people were urged by their leaders to ask for Barabbas in unison, “and destroy Jesus.”Likewise “Crucify Him. Crucify Him,” is repeated on several occasions in unison. By the time Pilate washed his hands, the multitude was in full swing and a unified tumult was immanent. Moreover Pilate was adopting a familiar Jewish custom in trying to wipe away the guilt of Christ’s blood while saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood.” Their retort, “His blood be upon us…,” would flow quite naturally and spontaneously from all.
I don’t see “in unison” in verse 20. It does say that they were encouraged by their leaders. Gibson portrays it somewhere in between a wave and a unison chant, with a few core people in the middle managing to stay in unison, while the rest of the crowd is just going crazy. That seems more plausible to me.
Anyway, I don’t think this is really a fitting subject for argument. Imagine it how you will, so long as it doesn’t sound like those Novus Masses where they have the priest and congregation read a little “dialogue”, with the congregation mumbling along in bored-sounding tones.
On the other subject… though there may be a sense in which the Jews have “suffered the curse” that came upon them through that evil deed, we certainly should not use it as an excuse for persecuting them ourselves. And, though I can’t find substantiation for this in other sources, what I said is surely right — it cannot be a mere strange coincidence that in taking the guilt on themselves, they were also begging for the one thing that could expunge them of it — the Blood of the Lamb, on themselves and their children. The connection with the Passover is particularly obvious given the time at which these events occurred.
Of course we should not persecute but rather pray for them—without giving offense, of course. However, I don’t see how you can say that they were begging to be washed in the Blood of the Lamb. That was the farthest thing from their mind. They said he blasphemed for making himself the Messiah. Some receive the Precious Blood in Holy Communion to their salvation and some to their damnation, not distinguishing the Blood of the Lord. We might as well say the Romans were also doing something to atone for their sins; they were offering a sacrifice pleasing to God while nailing Our Lord to the Cross. It is more than in a certain sense that the Jews have suffered from the curse they called upon themselves. Here is Saint Alphonsus:
“Poor Jews! You invoked a dreadful curse upon your own heads in saying: “His blood be on us and our children”; and that curse, miserable race, you carry upon you to this day, and to the End of Time you shall endure the chastisement of that innocent blood. O my Jesus! … I will not be obstinate like the Jews. I will love Thee forever, forever, forever!”
Here is a prayer of Pope Pius XI. Note that he is asking God to do something that has not yet been done to them as a race.
“Most sweet Jesus, Redeemer of the human race … look with pity upon the children of that race which was for so long Thy chosen people, and let Thy blood, once invoked upon them in vengeance, now descend upon them also in a cleansing flood of redemption and eternal life. Amen.”
I think, Clara, the irony works in the opposite direction. They *should* have been pleading for a marking in Passover blood that would call down God’s blessing, and instead they asked for a marking that would mark them as guilty. They should have accepted Him as Messias and Davidic king, instead they said, “We have no king but Caesar.” They should have asked Him to offer Himself as a sacrifice for them, instead Caiaphas ironically fulfilled his role as high priest when he said, “Better one man die for the good of the nation.” There’s irony here to be sure, but the “wondrous thing” is not what the crowd “really asked for” but what Christ did with their request. That is the irony of the Improperia, the Reproaches on Good Friday.
Or to put it differently, they turned the marking with blood of Passover into a marking with blood for visitation of penalty. When we sin, we are asking for Christ’s Blood to be on our heads. Of course, as you say, Clara, Christ brought the cure out of the crime. I’d never thought of it before in the way you put it — thank you. It just seems that it would be better to focus on the *vicious* irony of the scene. At that moment in the Passion narrative, we are supposed to be focussing on the terrible weight of the crime, including the way Christ’s persecutors “know not what they do.” Yes, in the shedding of the Precious Blood is the ability to blot out the crime. But what do we do with that irony? That mob and those priests in that scene stand for man in the ignorance and hatred born of sin, so it is better to focus on how they pervert reality to their own ends and are ignorant of the fact that Our Lord is enacting the New Passover. For the sake of Good Friday, the crowd’s ignorance of the Paschal symbolism just goes to show the extent of their blindness. It is not until Pentecost, about fifty days from now, that St. Peter comes out and calls that same crowd to repentance and reveals the solution to the bind they’ve put themselves in.
You can compare the situation of Judas. We all know that he could have repented and could have been saved. Of course, he would have been redeemed by the very Death he is guilty of orchestrating. But Judas represents the right choice *not* taken, the opportunity forfeited. For the purpose of Good Friday, the crowd and chief priests are blind to the Paschal symbolism, and it is their blindness (not the salvific value of the Precious Blood) that is the primary message at that point. “Father forgive them (i.e. make the Precious Blood salvific for them) for they know not what they do.” It is wondrous, but primarily in the terrible sense.
Clara, while it has been a while now since I attended the OF on Good Friday, one part of the new ceremony I particularly liked was the congregation taking the part of the crowd during the reading of the Passion Narrative. I remember being thoroughly moved when I joined in with everyone else saying, “Crucify him, crucify him.” Is it really such a bad thing to have the people say this?
Ditto with Maximilian Hanlon. That is a bonus of the OF Good Friday service. I don’t remember the parish being so much bored as confused as to the tone they were supposed to use right then — to read the line with gusto certainly would be inappropriate. The congregation has the toughest lines to say — all of them negative — and it is appopriate that they be halting and reluctant, which is what I have felt. By giving them the lines, the Church was essentially saying, “If not for God’s grace, this would have been YOUR role.” Pretty harsh and honest for the Novus Ordo, I’d have to say.
You’re right — the reading of those lines in the OF liturgy doesn’t reproduce the frothing reality of the first Good Friday. Then again, it’s not supposed to.
At Notre Dame, they did a sung version of the Passion on Good Friday, with the choir singing the part of the crowds. I always found that very moving, and it’s a good way to do the mob without encouraging people to shout and scream in church. Obviously the music was very angry and dissonant-sounding for lines like, “Not this man, but Barabbas!” or “Crucify him!”
I appreciate Tobias Petrus’ fleshing out the negative irony of the “Let his blood be on us” line. Certainly that’s there too. Of course, Discipule, I don’t mean that the crowd was intentionally asking for the Blood of Salvation… but we, given our greater knowledge, should not be insensible of the fact that the thing they literally demanded was the key to their salvation, and that, through the meeting of their demands, salvation was the thing offered to them.
I don’t think it’s really right to say that the negative irony is the “more proper” focus. They are all proper subjects for meditation; that’s what makes the passage so incomprehensibly rich. Here we see the meeting point between divine justice and divine mercy. Here we get a glimpse of the unfathomable paradox of the “felix culpa”, the most heinous of all crimes opening the way for a glorious path of salvation.
This is not the same as Judas Iscariot. The ultimate sin of Judas, as you point out, is not betraying Our Lord. Even that could have been forgiven, but as we know, he does not ask forgiveness — instead he despairs, and hangs himself. But we don’t see this crowd despairing. In this one sentence, we see them calling out for that thing that, unbeknownst to them, will bring both their greatest curse and also their only real hope. The fact that the same sentence might be spoken by the devout Christian today as a plea for forgiveness should deepen it “on both ends” if you will. The Christian should be chastened by the recognition that he is asking to be cleansed by the blood of an innocent, murdered by fallen man. But we, looking back on the angry mob of that time, should also be awed to recall that, through God’s great mercy, the terrible thing that the Jews brought down on their heads that day was, in fact, the cure that can save us all.
Thank you for your patience, Clara. I was way too quick on the draw. I see your position clearly and should have seen it in the original post. My apologies for getting it wrong. Happy Easter!
Happy Easter to you, Discipule! No worries, this kind of discussion is exactly the thing for figuring out how to articulate a point.
From the Act of Consecration to the Sacred Heart: “Look, finally, with eyes of pity upon the children of that race, once Thy chosen people; and let Thy Blood, which of old they called upon themselves, now descend upon them in a cleansing flood of redemption and eternal life.”