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  <front>
    <journal-meta>
      <journal-id>TMR</journal-id>
      <journal-title-group>
        <journal-title>The Medieval Review</journal-title>
      </journal-title-group>
      <issn pub-type="epub">1096-746X</issn>
      <publisher>
        <publisher-name>Indiana University</publisher-name>
      </publisher>
    </journal-meta>
    <article-meta>
      <article-id pub-id-type="publisher-id">10.05.01</article-id>
      <title-group>
        <article-title>10.05.01, Hourihane, Pontius Pilate (Sara Lipton)</article-title>
      </title-group>
      <contrib-group>
        <contrib contrib-type="author">
          <name>
            <surname>Lipton</surname>
            <given-names/>
          </name>
          <aff>SUNY- Stony Brook</aff>
          <address>
            <email>slipton@notes.cc.sunysb.edu</email>
          </address>
        </contrib>
      </contrib-group>
      <pub-date publication-format="epub" date-type="pub" iso-8601-date="2010">
        <year>2010</year>
      </pub-date>
      <product product-type="book">
        <person-group>
          <name>
            <surname>Hourihane, Colum</surname>
            <given-names/>
          </name>
        </person-group>
        <source>Pontius Pilate, Anti-Semitism, and the Passion in Medieval Art, </source>
        <year iso-8601-date="2009">2009</year>
        <publisher-loc>Princeton, NJ</publisher-loc>
        <publisher-name>Princeton University Press</publisher-name>
        <page-range>Pp. 491</page-range>
        <price>$55.00</price>
        <isbn>978-0-691-13956-2</isbn>
      </product>
      <permissions>
        <copyright-statement>Copyright 2010 Trustees of Indiana University. Indiana University provides the information contained in this file for non-commercial, personal, or research use only. All other use, including but not limited to commercial or scholarly reproductions, redistribution, publication or transmission, whether by electronic means or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright holder is strictly prohibited.</copyright-statement>
      </permissions>
    </article-meta>
  </front>
  <body>
    <p/>
    <p>


In May 2003 a group of scholars was convened jointly by the U.S.
Conference of Catholic Bishops and the Anti-Defamation League to
examine the allegedly anti-Semitic script of Mel Gibson's then-
unfinished film <italic>The Passion of the Christ</italic>.  Among the various
troubling features identified by the panel, the report singled out the
film's "sympathetic depiction" of Pontius Pilate: "The script
fundamentally misconceives the relationship between...Pontius Pilate
and the Temple authorities led by Caiaphas.  Caiaphas served at Rome's
pleasure.  Yet the script shows him bullying Pontius Pilate with an
amazing control of the Jewish mob.  Pilate even states he fears
Caiaphas is plotting a revolt. This is a total reversal of the
historical reality of Judea under Roman rule."  An appendix to the
report adds that far from having an aversion to shedding innocent
blood, as the movie implies, Pilate was described as particularly
brutal in contemporary secular sources. [1]  The scholars were so
concerned about the portrayal of Pilate because throughout Christian
history assessments of Pilate's role in the crucifixion have almost
inescapably intersected with attitudes toward Jews.  When Pilate is
presented as a passive or reluctant participant in the events of the
Passion, the Jews tend to be deemed that much more culpable.</p>
    <p>

In <italic>Pontius Pilate, Anti-Semitism, and the Passion in Medieval
Art</italic> Colum Hourihane sets out to explore the multiple dimensions of
this millennia-old relationship between Pilate and Jews, as
represented in medieval Christian imagery.  The scope of the book is
impressive, covering artworks in a wide range of media from the fourth
through the fifteenth centuries.  The bulk of the visual sources stem
from western Christendom, but Hourihane also treats images from the
eastern Mediterranean, Armenia, Byzantium, Scandinavia, and Ireland.
Chronologically organized chapters vividly detail the changing
iconography of Pilate and probe a complex array of artistic,
intellectual, and devotional developments that contoured
representations of that elusive and ambiguous figure.</p>
    <p>

A brief Introduction lays out the book's theme and approaches,
emphasizing the fact--amply demonstrated throughout the body of the
book--that historical perceptions of Pilate have been characterized by
variety, ambiguity, and contradiction.  Hourihane expresses perhaps
undue faith in our ability to uncover "the historical and human
character" (1) of Pontius Pilate--the data does not allow us to
hypothesize about the motivations of the historical Pilate, or even to
assume that the narrative of his behavior (washed hands, etc.) is
historical.  And readers might question the possibility, not to
mention advisability, of rehabilitating Pilate's reputation (5).  The
next four chapters provide essential background information.  Chapter
One consists of a brief overview of government and Roman-Jewish
relations in Roman Judaea.  Chapter Two offers the first-ever survey
of the major late antique and medieval Jewish and Christian texts that
refer to Pilate, ranging from Philo and Josephus through the New
Testament, Talmud and Midrash, and both early and later apocrypha and
legendary material.  This is a useful and long overdue scholarly
contribution, though more might perhaps have been said about the
language and origins of each text. [2]  Chapter Three reviews some
archaeological finds and some further second-, third-, and fourth-
century texts that touch upon Pilate.  Chapter Four sketches the main
outlines of Gospel and patristic accounts of the trial of Christ,
noting that early Christian texts tended to downplay the
responsibility of Rome, and that Justin Martyr, Tertullian, and
Chrysostom all underscore Pilate's doubt, hesitation, reluctance,
perhaps even admiration for and faith in Christ.  As the book is
primarily an iconographical study, this chapter is not designed to
systematically or comprehensively survey patristic exegesis, but to
suggest the range of possible approaches available to early Christian
and medieval visual artists.</p>
    <p>

Hourihane then turns to the iconographical analyses that form the
heart of the book and constitute its singular contribution.  Chapter
Five offers a fascinating study of the representation of Pilate in
early Christian art, far more comprehensive than any that has yet
appeared (usefully supplemented by an Appendix of early Christian
images).  Not surprisingly, there are few depictions of Pilate dating
to the period before Constantine, but from the fourth century he began
to appear frequently on sarcophagi and in manuscript illuminations,
mosaics, and ivory panels.  He is nearly always shown seated and
washing his hands before a standing Christ; the setting as well as
Pilate's cross-legged pose and costume evoke Roman imperial imagery
and consequently emphasize the prefect's status and authority.
However, Pilate's gaze does not always accord with this authoritative
aspect: although he sometimes looks directly at Christ, as one would
expect from a judge, he also frequently turns his head away.
Hourihane reads this gesture as exculpatory, designed to "convey
[Pilate's] inner conviction that Christ was innocent" (56).  There
are, of course, other possible readings--as Hourihane notes, Origen
described Pilate as "unfit or unable to look on Christ" (80)--but in
any case the gesture certainly serves to distance this representative
of imperial Rome from the consequences of the judgment, and so
graphically to introduce the question of moral responsibility.
Hourihane likewise sees the visual emphasis on Pilate's hand-washing
as implying Pilate's absolution (72), noting that the gesture
parallels Christ's Washing of the Apostles' Feet and evokes the ritual
of baptism (76), marking Pilate as a Christian convert (80).  Various
early Christian texts (Tertullian, Eusebius, and the <italic>Acta
Pilati</italic>, in particular) lend support to this reading.  But the
visual parallels adduced by Hourihane could equally support a
different assessment of Pilate, contrasting Christ's humility in
tending to his disciples (and Peter's in protesting Christ's self-
abasement) with Pilate's arrogance, and/or highlighting the distance
between a physical, bodily (i.e., pagan) conception of purity and a
more purely spiritual (Christian) one.</p>
    <p>

Chapter Six, "Pilate and the Passion Sequence," covers a broader time
span (the sixth through the tenth centuries) and a far more diverse
set of images.  The iconography established in late antiquity was
somewhat revised, while the elaboration of Passion iconography led to
the introduction of many new scenes.  Key themes of this chapter
include the transformation (via changes in costume, setting, and
accessories) of Pilate from a Roman governor to a Germanic ruler, a
tendency to group Pilate together with the Judaic high priests and
elders, the insertion of Pilate into scenes of the Flagellation, and
the creation of the first illustrations of Pilate's wife.  The variety
of this imagery makes generalization quite difficult, but Hourihane
persuasively argues that in their aggregate they promote a more
negative assessment of Pilate's character and motivation than was
apparent in the early Christian period.  Attempts to explain this
trend are somewhat more tentative--Hourihane notes that little was
said about Pilate by early medieval exegetes (84); the texts he does
cite consequently range from Origen (third century) to Rupert of Deutz
(twelfth century).  Throughout the discussion Hourihane offers
insightful remarks that indicate potentially fruitful avenues of
research.  He observes that Pilate's wife, who on the basis of a dream
urges her husband to release Jesus, "reinforces a contrast between
formal judgment and personal truth" (128), suggesting that examination
of the development of penitential theology might shed light on the
iconography.  And he is surely right to emphasize the importance in
this period of kingship and empire (123).</p>
    <p>

The remaining four chapters address the explosion of Pilatian
iconography in the high and late medieval West.  Chapter Seven
("Jewish Beginnings: Characterization in the Eleventh Century") argues
that in this period Pilate began to be portrayed as a Jew; artists
also began to show increased interest in the form of the praetorium.
Hourihane links both these developments to the rise of cities and
intensification of commerce and believes that the former is, in part,
a response to the prominent role played by Jews in trade and money-
lending.  Firm evidence for the prevalence in the eleventh century of
Jewish money-lending--or even for Christian stereotypes of Jews as
moneylenders--is, however, lacking.  Chapter Eight ("The Legal
Perspective: The Twelfth Century") highlights two key iconographical
trends: Pilate is identified ever more closely with Jews, whose
culpability in the crucifixion is now given graphic expression, and he
takes on "a more formalized legal slant" (173), holding items and
making gestures associated with law courts and legal (as well as
religious) disputation.  Chapter Nine ("Pilate in the Expansion of the
Passion: The Thirteenth Century") tackles the dizzying proliferation
of scenes and episodes featuring Pilate in this century of intense
artistic innovation.  It becomes increasingly difficult to
differentiate Pilate from Caiaphas and/or Annas; Pilate is also now
liable to be depicted as befriending Judas, witnessing the
crucifixion, supervising the Flagellation, and consorting with
physically distorted tormentors of Christ--all of which "leaves little
doubt as to the negative perception of [Pilate's] character" in this
period (295).  Chapter Ten ("The Established Image in the Fourteenth
and Fifteenth Centuries") tracks the continued use and further
elaboration of this imagery to the end of the Middle Ages.  A
recurring theme of this chapter is the changing uses and new genres of
Christian art, which necessarily affected representations of Pilate.
The chapter thus offers an instructive example of the complex
interaction of form, content, and context.  Although the book is
organized chronologically, the temporal limits of the chapters are not
always systematically observed: images from later centuries sometimes
illustrate discussions of eleventh- and twelfth-century developments,
rendering the narrative of iconographical evolution occasionally
difficult to follow.</p>
    <p>

The brief summaries provided above hardly do justice to the range of
topics and artworks touched upon throughout the book.  The Irish
monopoly on early medieval sculptural representations of Pilate (111),
the mutually reinforcing interplay of biblical iconography and legal
imagery (173), the proclivity of German artists to illustrate obscure
scenes from the apocrypha (313), the fact that Pilate's apparent age
varied widely from one period and place to the next (353)-these are
but a few of the many striking observations to be found here.  If the
sweeping scope of the study precludes in-depth examination of
individual artworks and their immediate contexts, it effectively lays
the groundwork for many such studies, and will doubtless inspire
scholarship for years to come.</p>
    <p>

It is inevitable that a work of this scope will invite some criticism
from experts in individual fields.  Scholars of Jewish-Christian
relations might question some characterizations of Jewish history (for
example, the statement that "in the ninth and tenth centuries,
antagonism toward Jews increased" [117-118], which is supported by
reference to an eleventh-century source, or the description of Philip
Augustus's expulsion of the Jews from the Ile-de-France [289], which
implies a more general and permanent expulsion than was the case, or
the identification of the thirteenth century as "the high point in
terms of Jewish persecution [368]).  Some of the book's assertions
regarding Pilate's "Jewishness" should be greeted with caution.  To
identify the eleventh century as the beginning of this trend is
problematic because, as Hourihane himself notes, no firm Jewish
iconography had yet been established (in fact, many of the
illustrations in the latter part of the chapter are twelfth century
and later).  Beards and devils were far too common to constitute
identifying Jewish signs, and until about 1150 pointed hats signified
antique authority rather than Jewishness.  Starting in the mid-twelfth
century Pilate does often bear signs typically associated with Jews in
contemporary art, but the association was neither as universal nor as
automatic as is suggested here.  Moreover, in many of the
illustrations whose captions state that Pilate is "portrayed as a Jew"
or "wearing a Jewish cap" the differences in dress, feature, and
manner between Pilate and the high priests and Jewish crowds seem as
salient as the similarities (see, for example, Figures 74, 79, 102,
139, 144).  On the whole it seems more fruitful to ask "what qualities
are assigned to Pilate, and with which characters does he share them?"
than to focus too narrowly on whether Pilate is portrayed "as a Jew."
This is not to say that Hourihane is wrong to assert that medieval
artists constructed a visual relationship between Pilate and Jews.  In
fact, it suggests that Pilate's significance to the history of anti-
Jewish imagery may be even greater than he states-the iconography of
Pilate doesn't so much borrow from anti-Jewish iconography, as help
establish it.</p>
    <p><italic>Pontius Pilate, Anti-Semitism, and the Passion in Medieval Art</italic>
is likely to stimulate discussion on this and many other subjects for
some time to come, so broad is its reach and bounteous its sources.
It is a significant accomplishment to begin to bring order to this
enormous mass of material; that Hourihane has also produced such a
wide-ranging and beautifully illustrated volume is cause for
considerable gratitude.</p>
    <p>

--------</p>
    <p>
Notes:</p>
    <p>
1. http://www.bc.edu/research/cjl/meta-
elements/texts/cjrelations/resources/reviews/Passion_adhoc_report_2May
.pdf  (accessed 2/27/2010).</p>
    <p>

2. I should note here a potentially confusing typographical error: the
<italic>Vindicta Salvatoris</italic> is not a "medieval Jewish creation" but a
"medieval anti-Jewish creation" (according to J.K. Elliott, <italic>The
Apocryphal New Testament</italic> [Oxford, 1993], p. 213).  A few other
<italic>errata</italic>: the transcription on page 208 should read "Pilatus qui
hic selle curuli inpictus precepit custodiam de christo nec moeret in
tarro."  The Fourth Lateran Council decreed distinguishing clothing
for Muslims and Jews in canon 68, not 78; nor did all 70 canons affect
the Jews (290).  Bernward of Hildesheim was not archbishop of Mainz in
1011, but bishop of Hildesheim (146).</p>
    <p/>
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</article>
