Holy Blood, Holy Grail

by Baigent, Michael

  The explanation of the matter would seem to lie, as Professor Morton Smith suggests, in a more or less standard "mystery school’’ initiation. As Professor Smith demonstrates, such initiations and their accompanying rituals were common enough in the Palestine of Jesus’ era. They often entailed a symbolic death and rebirth, which were called by those names; sequestration in a tomb, which became a womb for the acolyte’s rebirth; a rite, that is now called baptism—a symbolic immersion in water; and a cup of wine, which was identified with the blood of the prophet or magician presiding over the ceremony. By drinking from such a cup the disciple consummated a symbolic union with his teacher, the former becoming mystically "one" with the latter. Significantly enough, it is precisely in these terms that Saint Paul explains the purpose of baptism. And Jesus himself uses the same terms at the Last Supper.

  As Professor Smith points out, Jesus’ career is very similar to those of other magicians, healers, wonder-workers and miracle-workers of the period.12 Throughout the four Gospels, for example, he consistently meets secretly with the people he is about to heal or speaks quietly with them alone. Afterward he often asks them not to divulge what transpired. And so far as the general public is concerned he speaks habitually in allegories and parables.

  It would seem, then, that Lazarus, during Jesus’ sojourn at the Jordan, has embarked on a typical initiation rite, leading as such rites traditionally did to a symbolic resurrection and rebirth. In this light the disciples’ desire to "die with him" becomes perfectly comprehensible—as does Jesus’ otherwise inexplicable complacency about the whole affair. Granted, Mary and Martha would appear to be genuinely distraught—as would a number of other people. But they may simply have misunderstood or misconstrued the point of the exercise. Or perhaps something seemed to have gone wrong with the initiation—a not uncommon occurrence. Or perhaps the whole affair was a skillfully contrived piece of stagecraft whose true nature and purpose were known only to a very few.

  If the Lazarus incident does reflect a ritual initiation, he is clearly receiving very preferential treatment. Among other things he is apparently being initiated before any of the disciples—who, indeed, seem decidedly envious of his privilege. But why should this hitherto unknown man of Bethany thus be singled out? Why should he undergo an experience in which the disciples are so eager to join him? Why should later, mystically oriented "heretics" like the Carpocratians have made so much of the matter? And why should the entire episode have been expurgated from the Gospel of Mark? Perhaps because Lazarus was "he whom Jesus loved"—more than the other disciples. Perhaps because Lazarus had some special connection with Jesus—like that of brother-in-law. Perhaps both. It is possible that Jesus came to know and love Lazarus precisely because Lazarus was his brother-in-law. In any case the love is repeatedly stressed. When Jesus returns to Bethany and weeps, or feigns to weep, for Lazarus’ death, the bystanders echo the words of the messenger, "Behold how he loved him!" (John 11:36)

  The author of the Gospel of John—the Gospel in which the Lazarus story figures—does not at any point identify himself as "John." In fact he does not name himself at all. He does, however, refer to himself by a most distinctive appellation. He constantly calls himself "the beloved disciple," "the one whom Jesus loved," and clearly implies that he enjoys a unique and preferred status over his comrades. At the Last Supper, for example, he flagrantly displays his personal proximity to Jesus, and it is to him alone that Jesus confides the means whereby betrayal will occur:

  Now there was leaning on Jesus’ bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved.

  Simon Peter therefore beckoned to him, that he should ask who it should be of whom he spake.

  He then lying on Jesus’ breast saith unto him, Lord, who is it?

  Jesus answered, He it is, to whom I shall give a sop, when I have dipped it. And when he had dipped the sop, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon. (John 13:23-6)

  Who is this "beloved disciple" on whose testimony the Fourth Gospel is based? All the evidence suggests that he is in fact Lazarus— "he whom Jesus loved." It would seem, then, that Lazarus and the "beloved disciple" are one and the same person, and that Lazarus is the real identity of "John." This conclusion would seem to be almost inevitable. Nor were we alone in reaching it. According to Professor William Brownlee, a leading biblical scholar and one of the foremost experts on the Dead Sea Scrolls, "From internal evidence in the Fourth Gospel... the conclusion is that the beloved disciple is Lazarus of Bethany."13

  If Lazarus and the "beloved disciple" are one and the same, it would explain a number of anomalies. It would explain Lazarus’ mysterious disappearance from the scriptural account and his apparent absence during the Crucifixion. For if Lazarus and the "beloved disciple" were one and the same, Lazarus would have been present at the Crucifixion. And it would have been to Lazarus that Jesus entrusted the care of his mother. The words with which he did so might well be the words of a man referring to his brother-in-law:

  When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!

  Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home. (John 19:26-7)

  The last word of this quotation is particularly revelatory. For the other disciples have left their homes in Galilee and, to all intents and purposes, are homeless. Lazarus, however, does have a home—that crucial house in Bethany where Jesus himself was accustomed to stay.

  After the priests are said to have decided on his death, Lazarus is not again mentioned by name. He would appear to vanish completely. But if he is indeed the "beloved disciple," he does not vanish after all, and his movements and activities can be traced to the very end of the Fourth Gospel. And here, too, there is a curious episode that warrants examination. At the end of the Fourth Gospel Jesus forecasts Peter’s death and instructs Peter to "follow" him:

  Then Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following; which also leaned on his breast at supper, and said, Lord, which is he that betrayeth thee?

  Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do?

  Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me.

  Then went this saying abroad among the brethren, that that disciple should not die: yet Jesus said not unto him, He shall not die; but, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee?

  This is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things: and we know that his testimony is true. (John 21:20-24)

  Despite its ambiguous phraseology, the import of this passage would seem to be clear. The "beloved disciple" has been explicitly instructed to wait for Jesus’ return. And the text itself is quite emphatic in stressing that this return is not to be understood symbolically in the sense of a "second coming." On the contrary, it implies something much more mundane. It implies that Jesus, after dispatching his other followers out into the world, must soon return with some special commission for the "beloved disciple." It is almost as if they have specific, concrete arrangements to conclude and plans to make.

  If the "beloved disciple" is Lazarus, such collusion, unknown to the other disciples, would seem to have a certain precedent. In the week before the Crucifixion Jesus undertakes to make his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, and in order to do so in accordance with Old Testament prophecies of a Messiah, he must be riding astride an ass. (Zechariah 9:9-10) Accordingly an ass must be procured. In Luke’s Gospel Jesus dispatches two disciples to Bethany, where, he tells them, they will find an ass awaiting them. They are instructed to tell the beast’s owner that the "Master has need of it." When everything transpires precisely as Jesus has forecast, it is regarded as a sort of miracle. But is there really anything very extraordinary about it? Does it not merely attest to carefully laid plans? And would not the man from Bethany who provides an ass at the appointed time seem to be Lazarus?

  Th
is certainly is the conclusion of Doctor Hugh Schonfield. 14 He argues convincingly that the arrangements for Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem were entrusted to Lazarus and that the other disciples had no knowledge of them. If this was indeed the case, it attests to an inner circle of Jesus’ followers, a core of collaborators, coconspirators or family members who alone are admitted to their master’s confidence. Doctor Schonfield believes that Lazarus is part of just such a circle. And his belief concurs with Professor Smith’s insistence on the preferential treatment Lazarus receives by virtue of his initiation, or symbolic death, at Bethany. It is possible that Bethany was a cult center, a place reserved for the unique rituals over which Jesus presided. If so, this might explain the otherwise enigmatic occurrence of Bethany elsewhere in our investigation. The Prieuré de Sion had called its "arch" at Rennes-le-Château "Bethanie." And Saunière, apparently at the Prieuré de Sion’s request, had christened his villa Villa Bethania.

  In any case, the collusion which seems to elicit an ass from the "man from Bethany" may well be displaying itself again at the mysterious end of the Fourth Gospel—when Jesus orders the "beloved disciple" to tarry until he returns. It would seem that he and the "beloved disciple" have plans to make. And it is not unreasonable to assume that these plans included the care of Jesus’ family. At the Crucifixion he had already entrusted his mother to the "beloved disciple’s" custody. If he had a wife and children, they, presumably, would have been entrusted to the "beloved disciple" as well. This, of course, would be all the more plausible if the "beloved disciple" were indeed his brother-in-law.

  According to much later tradition Jesus’ mother eventually died in exile at Ephesus—from whence the Fourth Gospel is said to have subsequently issued. There is no indication, however, that the "beloved disciple" attended Jesus’ mother for the duration of her life. According to Professor Schonfield the Fourth Gospel was probably not composed at Ephesus, only reworked, revised, and edited by a Greek elder there—who made it conform to his own ideas.15

  If the "beloved disciple" did not go to Ephesus, what became of him? If he and Lazarus were one and the same, that question can be answered, for tradition is quite explicit about what became of Lazarus. According to tradition as well as certain early Church writers, Lazarus, the Magdalen, Martha, Joseph of Arimathea, and a few others were transported by ship to Marseilles.16 Here Joseph was supposedly consecrated by Saint Philip and sent on to England, where he established a church at Glastonbury. Lazarus and the Magdalen, however, are said to have remained in Gaul. Tradition maintains that the Magdalen died at either Aix-en-Provence or Saint Baume, and Lazarus at Marseilles after founding the first bishopric there. One of their companions, Saint Maximin, is said to have founded the first bishopric of Narbonne.

  If Lazarus and the "beloved disciple" were one and the same, there would thus be an explanation for their joint disappearance. Lazarus, the true "beloved disciple," would seem to have been set ashore at Marseilles, together with his sister—who, as tradition subsequently maintains, was carrying with her the Holy Grail, the "blood royal." And the arrangements for this escape and exile would seem to have been made by Jesus himself, together with the "beloved disciple," at the end of the Fourth Gospel.

  THE DYNASTY OF JESUS

  If Jesus was indeed married to the Magdalen, might such a marriage have served some specific purpose? In other words, might it have been something more than a conventional marriage? Might it have been a dynastic alliance of some kind, with political implications and repercussions? Might a bloodline resulting from such a marriage, in short, have fully warranted the appellation "blood royal"?

  The Gospel of Matthew states explicitly that Jesus was of royal blood—a genuine king, the lineal descendant of Solomon and David. If this is true, he would have enjoyed a legitimate claim to the throne of a united Palestine—and perhaps even the legitimate claim. And the inscription affixed to the cross would have been much more than mere sadistic derision, for Jesus would indeed have been "King of the Jews." His position, in many respects, would have been analogous to that of, say, Bonnie Prince Charlie in 1745. And thus he would have engendered the opposition he did precisely by virtue of his role—the role of a priest-king who might possibly unify his country and the Jewish people, thereby posing a serious threat to both Herod and Rome.

  Certain modern biblical scholars have argued that Herod’s famous "Massacre of the Innocents" never in fact took place. Even if it did, it was probably not of the garish and appalling proportions ascribed to it by the Gospels and subsequent tradition. And yet the very perpetuation of the story would seem to attest to something—some genuine alarm on Herod’s part, some very real anxiety about being deposed. Granted, Herod was an extremely insecure ruler, hated by his enslaved subjects and sustained in power only by Roman cohorts. But however precarious his position might have been, it cannot, realistically speaking, have been seriously threatened by rumors of a mystical or spiritual savior—of the kind with which the Holy Land at the time already abounded anyway. If Herod was indeed worried, it can only have been by a very real, concrete, political threat—the threat posed by a man who possessed a more legitimate claim to the throne than his own, and who could muster substantial popular support. The "Massacre of the Innocents" may never have occurred, but the traditions relating to it reflect some concern on Herod’s part about a rival claim and, quite possibly, some action intended to forestall or preclude it. Such a claim can only have been political in nature. And it must have warranted being taken seriously.

  To suggest that Jesus enjoyed such a claim is, of course, to challenge the popular image of the "poor carpenter from Nazareth." But there are persuasive reasons for doing so. In the first place, it is not altogether certain that Jesus was from Nazareth. ’Jesus of Nazareth’ is in fact a corruption, or mistranslation of "Jesus the Nazorite" or "Jesus the Nazorean’ or perhaps "Jesus of Gennescareth." In the second place, there is considerable doubt as to whether the town of Nazareth actually existed in Jesus’ time. It does not occur in any Roman maps, documents, or records. It is not mentioned in the Talmud. It is not mentioned, still less associated with Jesus, in any of the writings of Saint Paul—which were, after all, composed before the Gospels. And Flavius Josephus—the foremost chronicler of the period, who commanded troops in Galilee and listed the province’s towns—makes no mention of Nazareth either. It would seem, in short, that Nazareth did not appear as a town until sometime after the revolt of A.D. 66-74 and that Jesus’ name became associated with it by virtue of the semantic confusion—accidental or deliberate—that characterizes so much of the New Testament.

  Whether Jesus was "of Nazareth" or not, there is no indication that he was ever a "poor carpenter."17 Certainly none of the Gospels portrays him as such; indeed, their evidence suggests quite the contrary. He seems to be well educated, for example. He seems to have undergone training for the rabbinate, and to have consorted as frequently with wealthy and influential people as with the poor— Joseph of Arimathea, for instance, and Nicodemus. And the wedding at Cana would seem to bear further witness to Jesus’ status and social position.

  This wedding does not appear to have been a modest, humble festival conducted by the "common people." On the contrary, it bears all the marks of an extravagant aristocratic union, a "high society" affair, attended by at least several hundred guests. There are abundant servants, for example—who hasten to do both Mary’s and Jesus’ bidding. There is a "master of the feast" or "master of ceremonies"—who in the context would have been a kind of chief butler or perhaps even an aristocrat himself. Most clearly there is a positively enormous quantity of wine. When Jesus "transmutes" the water into wine, he produces, according to the Good News Bible, no less than six hundred liters, which is more than eight hundred bottles! And this is in addition to what has already been consumed.

  All things considered, the wedding at Cana would seem to have been a sumptuous ceremony of the gentry or aristocracy. Even if the wedding were not Jesus’ own, h
is presence at it and his mother’s would suggest that they were members of the same caste. This alone would explain the servants’ obedience to them.

  If Jesus was an aristocrat and if he was married to the Magdalen, it is probable that she was of comparable social station. And indeed, she would appear to be so—as we have seen, she numbers among her friends the wife of an important official at Herod’s court. But she may have been more important still.

  As we had discovered by tracing references in the "Prieuré documents," Jerusalem—the Holy City and capital of Judaea—had originally been the property of the Tribe of Benjamin. Subsequently the Benjamites were decimated in their war with the other tribes of Israel, and many of them went into exile—although, as the "Prieuré documents" maintain, "certain of them remained." One descendant of this remnant was Saint Paul, who states explicitly that he is a Benjamite. (Romans 11:1)

  Despite their conflict with the other tribes of Israel, the Tribe of Benjamin appears to have enjoyed some special status. Among other things it provided Israel with her first king—Saul, anointed by the prophet Samuel—and with her first royal house. But Saul was eventually deposed by David, of the Tribe of Judah. And David not only deprived the Benjamites of their claim to the throne. By establishing his capital at Jerusalem he deprived them of their rightful inheritance as well.