Ancient History & Civilisation

11

John of Gischala Comes to Jerusalem

“The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but war was in his heart: his words were softer than oil, yet were they drawn swords.”

PSALMS, 55, 21

ALL THAT WE KNOW about Yohannan ben Levi—John of Gischala—comes from Josephus who, as we have seen, hated him for trying to take his place as governor of Galilee—not to mention several determined attempts at murder. Obviously, it is very hard to tell what is true in an enemy’s testimony. Yet John was an uncompromising patriot who believed passionately in Jewish freedom, and he was convinced that the Jews could win the war. Admittedly, he was unbalanced by a little too much confidence in his own abilities, and he had few scruples about killing anybody who stood in his way.

Josephus says that although most of the inhabitants of Gischala (Gush Halav) were peace-loving farmers interested only in their crops, a large band of brigands had moved into the little city and that some of the city’s notables were “sick of the same distemper.” They had been encouraged to revolt, he explains, by John, an insanely ambitious intriguer, very clever at getting what he wanted, who knew how to be all things to all men. “It was common knowledge that his reason for being so keen on the war was that he hoped to make himself a dictator.” The “malcontents” in the city had chosen him for their leader, and although the majority of the population would have liked to send a message saying they were ready to surrender, Gischala prepared to fight the Romans.1

Vespasian had taken two of his legions back to Caesarea, sending the third (the Tenth Legion) to Scythopolis. There was adequate food for his men in both cities, and being very much aware that they were in need of a rest, he wanted to build up their strength during the winter in preparation for the huge effort that would be required for the capture of Jerusalem. Not only was the nation’s capital built on a naturally strong site but its walls were unusually solid and defended by fanatics. Any shortage of manpower had been made good by refugees who were flooding into the royal city. The prospect worried even Vespasian. Josephus comments that he trained his legionaries as though they were wrestlers.

In a remote area up in northeastern Galilee, Gischala had no strategic value. Its importance was purely symbolic, as the last stronghold in the province still in Jewish hands. Titus set off to capture the place with a mere thousand horsemen and, after reconnoitering, decided that it could easily be taken by storm. However, this would mean massacring its population, and for the moment at least, he seems to have been sick of bloodshed. Hoping to persuade its defenders to surrender, he rode up to the walls, which were crowded with men yelling defiantly.

Just what are you hoping for? Every other Galilean city has fallen, and far stronger ones than yours fell at the first assault, yet here you are, stubbornly holding out by yourselves. All the cities that have accepted Rome’s terms are safe, keeping their goods and their way of life, and these terms are still on offer, despite your impertinence. Wanting “liberty” may be all very well, but trying to resist when there’s no hope is ridiculous. If you turn down my very generous offer, which I make in all good faith, then you are going to learn what war means. As a defense against Roman siege engines, your walls are a joke. If they think they can depend on them, then the last of the Galilean rebels are about to discover they are vain and conceited slaves who have already been taken prisoner.2

According to Josephus, none of the locals dared to reply. In any case, they were not even allowed onto the walls, which were entirely manned by bandits who guarded the gates to stop anybody from going out to surrender or letting in enemy horsemen. John took it on himself to answer Titus. He was satisfied with the terms and would make everybody else in the city accept them, he shouted. But Titus must let the Jews observe the Sabbath, when they were forbidden by their Law to use weapons or conduct negotiations. Even Romans must be aware that Jews ceased from all labor on this day, and anyone forcing them to break the Law was as guilty as those who broke it. The delay could not hurt Titus because the only thing the Jews could do during the night was to try to escape, which he could easily prevent by camping all around the city. The Jews would gain from staying true to their traditions, and it would look more gracious if he respected their ways.

“This was the work of God who saved John so that he might bring destruction upon Jerusalem,” comments Josephus, “just as it was God’s doing that Titus was convinced by his excuse for a delay and decided to camp further off at Cydasa.”3 Cydasa was a well-fortified Syrian village with a long history of anti-Jewish activity. Just how small a place Gischala must have been is shown by the suggestion that Titus should surround it with a thousand men.

That Sabbath night, when the Romans had left the city unguarded, John fled south to Jerusalem, accompanied not only by his men but by several thousand local folk, a long and dangerous march through Galilee and Judea, much of it through territory controlled by the enemy. “Run for your lives,” he told them. “Once we’re in a safe place, we can revenge ourselves on the Romans for what they are going to do to the people we have to leave behind.”

Unfortunately, after several miles the women and children could not keep up, and guessing that Titus would soon launch a relentless chase, John was forced to leave them behind amid the screams of wives who begged their husbands to stay. Terrified of being caught by the Romans, some were trampled down trying to run after John’s men or were lost in the desert. This description is based on the account given in The Jewish War. The detail that several thousand of the locals tried to leave with John contradicts Josephus’s statement that most of the inhabitants wanted to surrender. Nor does he give John credit for a gallant attempt to evacuate everybody loyal to the cause of Jewish freedom.

The next morning, Titus and his cavalry rode up to the gates of Gischala, which were opened at once, as the inhabitants and their families greeted him as a liberator. At the same time they told him of John’s escape. Titus sent several squadrons of cavalry in pursuit, but he had gained too big a start. After a grueling forced march, John reached Jerusalem safely early in November with most of his little army. However, the Romans killed 6,000 of the noncombatants who had set out with him, dragging back to Gischala as prisoners nearly 3,000 women and children. Although angry at having been tricked, Titus was surprisingly merciful, taking the view that threats were a better deterrent than executions. He merely demolished part of the city wall and left a garrison.

Greeted enthusiastically by the crowds at Jerusalem, John and his men insisted that they had not run away but had withdrawn to fight on more favorable ground. “It would have been a waste of time to risk our lives by trying to defend Gischala or any other badly fortified little town,” they explained. “We wanted to keep our weapons and our numbers to defend the capital.” Even so, Jerusalem was horrified by the fall of Gischala and by so many refugees being killed or taken prisoner during the retreat. John tried to cheer them up. The enemy was much weaker than anyone realized, and their siege engines had breached the ramparts of Galilee’s little cities only with the utmost difficulty, he claimed. “Even if the Romans grow wings, they won’t be able to get over the walls of Jerusalem.”4 This went down well with younger men, making them keen to fight, but the older and wiser sensed that they were in terrible danger.

Law and order had broken down in all the cities of Judea before their recapture by the Romans, The Jewish War tells us. Each family was divided by politics, quarrelling bitterly, with fighting in the streets between those who were eager for war and those who wanted peace. Gangs of bandits terrorized the well-to-do, breaking into houses and ravaging the countryside. Finally, their leaders joined together and took their men into Jerusalem in search of better pickings. Already overcrowded, its population swollen by starving refugees, the capital grew nightmarish, especially for its richer citizens. Robbery, murder, and every imaginable crime were chronic, not just at night but in full daylight.

Josephus’s picture is exaggerated, since he belonged to the class most at risk. The majority of the men he calls bandits are likely to have been illiterate young peasants, ’am ha-arez who had lost their farms rather than professional criminals. Admittedly, even if they did not understand the finer points of the Fourth Philosophy, they agreed wholeheartedly that it was sinful to pay taxes to Rome, and some of them were levelers. Nevertheless, not all of the “rebels” were peasants. More members of the upper class joined them than Josephus says; they were attracted by the party’s heady mix of idealism, courage, and refusal to compromise.5 What they all had in common was a thirst for Jewish freedom, while they prided themselves on their zeal for religion—the source of their adopted name.

What Josephus does not mention is the impact of the loss of Galilee, which showed everybody just how much their ruling class had failed them. It was during this time that the Zealots began to coalesce into a revolutionary movement. Although there were plenty of aristocrats among them, those of humble origin suspected them of being lukewarm in their devotion to the nation’s cause, of wanting to compromise. It looks as if more than a few people were thought to be potential collaborators because of their class. Josephus’s defection may well have fueled these suspicions.

Suddenly, the unruly element seized Antipas, a man of royal blood and great influence who was in charge of the public treasury, together with two other distinguished nobles, Levias “a person of importance” and Sophas, the son of Raguel, putting them in chains. All three were rich grandees with armed retainers who might attempt a rescue, so they were speedily put to death. The deed was done by a Zealot called John, son of Dorcas, “one of the most bloody minded of them all.”6 Taking ten other thugs, he went to the prison where the three were confined and cut their throats. The news caused an uproar throughout Jerusalem. Everybody was worried about his own safety, as if the city had been taken by storm. The reason given for the “executions” was that the men had been in close touch with the Romans and were plotting to surrender Jerusalem to them, an accusation that may well have had some basis, although The Jewish War implies that it was trumped up and that the real motive was class hatred. Using the alleged plot as a pretext and insisting they were the saviors of the people and of liberty, the Zealots took over the Temple, which they turned into a fortress.

What outraged Josephus still more, however, was the way in which levelers among the Zealots forced the election of a new high priest of humble background, although it was an office that for many years had been a hereditary preserve of the great families. His name was Phannias ben Samuel, and he came from the village of Aphthia, “a man who not only lacked descent from high priests, but was too boorish to understand the meaning of the high priesthood.” In The Jewish War, Josephus tells us with horror how this “ignoble, low born man” was brought in from the countryside, taken into the Temple, dressed up in the vestments, and told how to play the part and goes on to say that the Zealots thought that both the man and his election were a joke.7

Although Phannias did not have distinguished ancestors, he was nonetheless descended from Aaron, the first high priest, and therefore he was entitled to call himself ha-Kohen. Instead of being a peasant, as Josephus contends, he worked as a stonemason, which was a perfectly decent calling for a member of the lower priesthood. Moreover, one source claims that he had married a daughter of the Nasi—the Sanhedrin’s president.8 Until the fall of the city, he donned the high priest’s miter and breastplate on Yom Kippur. Even so, Phannias’s election foreshadowed class war. In political terms, however, he turned out to be a complete nonentity who never made any attempt to influence events.

The Zealot leader at this time was a man of upper-class background, Eleazar ben Simon, who had emerged during the battle with Cestius the previous year, and it was he who had suggested occupying the Temple. Despite a parade of idealism, Eleazar was in reality just a gang boss with a “tyrannical temper.” It is unlikely that the Zealots possessed a coherent strategy until John of Gischala took over the leadership, which was some considerable time after his arrival in the capital. It was John who declared war on the old establishment and led the Jewish “revolution,” although at first he concealed his aims.

The leader of the Jewish establishment was Ananus ben Ananus, senior among former high priests. Four of his brothers had held the office, and he epitomized the magnates of Judea. He still presided over the junta, though he was weakened by the disappearance of his ally Eleazar ben Ananias, which historians cannot explain. In Josephus’s opinion, Ananus was a man of very shrewd judgment, who might have saved the city. No doubt, he had arranged the murder of James, the brother of Jesus, but he knew how to control his savage streak. Rallying the citizens against the extremists in the Temple, he quickly found allies among the elite, notably another ex-high priest Joshua ben Gamala, together with Gorion ben Joseph and Simon ben Gamaliel. The four made speeches all over the city, buttonholing everybody they met in the streets.

They held meetings at which they rebuked the citizens of Jerusalem for not standing up to people “who called themselves ‘zealots’ as if they were zealous for doing good instead of practicing depravity.”9 One of these meetings drew a particularly big crowd of people who complained about the occupation of the Sanctuary and about so much robbery and bloodshed. They were too frightened to do anything since the Zealots were such tough customers. However, during the meeting Ananus made a long, eloquent speech that shows his views were close to those of Josephus, who no doubt inserted his own opinions into the version he gives us. The speech marked the last chance of reaching some sort of settlement with the Romans—of escaping from a war bound to end in annihilation.

“I wish I had died before I had seen the house of God so full of abomination, at seeing sacred places that ought to be inviolable being trodden by the feet of blood-stained murderers,” began Ananus, standing in the midst of a huge crowd. He was in tears as he spoke, frequently glancing meaningfully in the direction of the Temple. Angrily, he rebuked his listeners for permitting the Zealots to arm themselves and dominate Jerusalem, for allowing them to put Antipas and his friends in chains, and then torture and murder them, and for letting them establish a tyranny. How could they bear to see their holiest possessions trampled on by such criminals? “You really are pitiful creatures!” he told his audience. “Why can’t you rise up and throw them out?” He added, “Or are you waiting for the Romans to come back and rescue our holy places?”

“We are in the middle of a war with Rome—I am not going to speculate whether it’s likely to do us any good and be to our benefit—but I am asking you to try and remember the whole point of the war,” he continued. “Surely it’s about freedom? Then why are we refusing to let ourselves be ruled by the masters of the known world when we are putting up with these thugs in our own backyard?”

“Now that I’ve mentioned the Romans, I might as well say everything that came into my mind on the subject while I was talking and what I really think of them. It is this. Even if they somehow succeed in conquering us—and may God forbid that it should all end in such a way—we cannot be asked to suffer anything much worse than what these wretched men have been doing to us.”

Subtly, Ananus went on to suggest some of the advantages that might result from making peace. “The Romans have never overstepped the boundaries that are laid down for those who don’t share our religion, they have never outraged our sacred customs, and they have always kept well away from our Holy of Holies, showing not only respect but genuine awe. In contrast, these men who were born in our country and brought up in our customs, these men who call themselves Jews, dare to walk around hallowed precincts when their hands are still stained with the blood of fellow countrymen. . . . In plain language, I’m telling you that the Romans might even turn out to be the real upholders of our Law instead of the enemies who are within our walls.”10

He ended by begging the crowd to fight to the death to save the Temple, for the sake of their wives and children, and for the honor of God. Josephus comments sympathetically that Ananus was a realist who knew how difficult the struggle would be but was prepared to risk everything. His speech was a rousing success, his listeners shouting that the Temple must be recovered at once and demanding a leader. Immediately, Ananus started to collect weapons and to arm his new followers.

Learning that Ananus was organizing an army, the Zealots suddenly charged out of the Temple and attacked his supporters. An increasingly vicious battle ensued in the streets outside, first with stones and javelins, then at close quarters with swords. Although the moderates were badly armed, rage gave them the strength they needed to beat back their opponents. Finally, they stormed the outer court of the Temple, blockading the Zealots in the inner court. However, the devout Ananus refused to break down the sacred doors. Instead, he had 6,000 men chosen by lot, who mounted guard in the colonnade. Josephus notes grimly that many of the richer moderates hired substitutes to mount guard in their place. Yet for a moment it looked as if the moderates had won the day and that the Zealots would soon be starved into surrender.

The man who destroyed the moderates was John of Gischala who, Josephus reports inaccurately and ungenerously, “ran away from Gischala.”11 In retrospect, it is clear that ever since his arrival in the city, John must have been plotting to overthrow the junta because he realized they were planning to make peace with the Romans. Convinced that the war was just, he was no less certain that he was the one man to win it. He identified the Zealots as the only party who, despite their shortcomings, were committed to the war and decided to become their leader. He saw his chance in the struggle with Ananus.

Pretending to be on the moderates’ side, John made a point of spending every hour of the day with Ananus, especially while discussing matters with his officers, in addition to passing much of the night with him when he was inspecting the watch. John then sent secret messages to warn the Zealots inside the Temple of any schemes to attack them. Eventually, Ananus and his advisers grew suspicious and wondered whether he was the source of the enemy’s uncanny knowledge of all their plans. There was no proof of his guilt, however, and he had many friends in high places who trusted him. Instead of being arrested, he was made to take an oath of loyalty, which he did so convincingly that he was subsequently allowed to attend the meetings of Ananus’s council. He was even entrusted with negotiating with the Zealots and offering them terms.

Once inside the Temple, John reminded the Zealots how often he had risked his life to save them, by sending information about Ananus’s plans. He told them that they were in great danger. Ananus, he lied, had persuaded his party to send an embassy to Vespasian, inviting him to come and take possession of Jerusalem. In the meantime, Ananus was arranging a purification ceremony for the following day, so that his men could get into the Temple and attack them. There were so many of the moderates, said John, that he did not see how the Zealots could possibly hold out. They had only two choices—to beg for mercy or find help from elsewhere. If they chose the first, they could expect to be slaughtered by Ananus’s followers in revenge for their own killings.

John’s speech in the Temple, as recorded in The Jewish War is unimpressive, but it is only Josephus’s unenthusiastic reconstruction and based on hearsay or even guesswork.12 It is likely that he spoke very differently, and indeed brilliantly. Elsewhere, even Josephus admits that he was a most effective orator, for his speech achieved everything he wanted. It was now that John of Gischala became the Zealot leader and was able to start, if not a revolution, at least a reorganization, which he hoped would win the war.

If you find an error or have any questions, please email us at admin@erenow.org. Thank you!