The Acts of
Pilate as an Isolating Force in the Frankfurt Passion Play of 1493
Matthew Z. Heintzelman
Department of Germanic Studies
University of Chicago
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Summary of Dissertation
Religious drama in the later Middle
Ages was first and foremost a social experience. Our reading of it must rely
heavily upon our understanding of the social context within which the plays
were produced, performed, and received. Much previous work on German Passion
plays has focussed on ascertaining the earliest examples of plays, and on the
paths of influence of one play upon another. These plays were largely performed
in urban settings, however, which were rich in their associative political,
religious, and cultural overtones.
Often the plays themselves are compiled
from the most diverse sources, which seem primarily to fill out the story of
Jesus' life, death, and Resurrection. One of the more frequently used non-canonical
("apocryphal") texts was the Gospel of Nicodemus, a forgery from the
fifth or sixth century. It provided the primary source for medieval depictions
of the Harrowing of Hell. While much scholarship has been dedicated to
the Harrowing of Hell motif in late-medieval society, little attention
has gone to another part of the Gospel of Nicodemus, which was used less
frequently: the trial of Jesus before Pilate, or what is often called the Acts
of Pilate.
The one extant play in the German
tradition to make extensive use of the Acts of Pilate is the Frankfurt
Passion Play (manuscript dated 1493, performances recorded in 1492, 1498,
and 1506). The mixed reaction to the Gospel of Nicodemus—the vast popularity
of the Harrowing of Hell, and the relative obscurity of the Acts of
Pilate—leads to many questions: Why did the Acts of Pilate receive
less attention than the other parts of the Gospel of Nicodemus? And why
did the producers of the Frankfurt play use the Acts of Pilate in their
play? How did this material affect the presentation of Jesus' trial on stage,
and what might it have meant to the audience watching the performance? As we
shall see, the use of the Acts of Pilate contributed to general discourses
within Frankfurt society, in particular concerning the separation of the Jewish
community from the Christian one.
The Frankfurt Passion Play
of 1493 is the second of two major manuscripts for this dramatic tradition.
The first is the Frankfurt Director's Scroll (ca. 1315-1345), which consists
only of the first line of each passage of dialogue, along with the rubrics.
Evidence points to this text having been used numerous times. Records of religious
drama begin to become more common in Frankfurt in the mid-fifteenth century,
and from these we know that the Frankfurt productions of 1492, 1498, and 1506
each lasted four days. The 1493 manuscript only presents us with days two and
three of this four-day production. From external records (in particular, a diary
from Job Rorbach), we know that the first day consisted of scenes from the Old
Testament and some parables, while the last day contained a Resurrection play.
Thus, while we have evidence from a larger time period than nearly any other
medieval German Passion play tradition, none of the actual texts present the
entire contents of a production.
In order to approximate the rôle
of the Acts of Pilate within the Frankfurt society of that time, and
thus to understand better their importance within local discourses overall,
it will be necessary to reconstruct the horizon of expectations of the audience
(Jauss). Indeed, the play productions had become an ideological state apparatus
(Althusser) which reinforced other general social and cultural trends within
late medieval Frankfurt. This analysis of the use of Acts of Pilate in
the play will require certain, preliminary foundational work. On the one hand,
we must see just where the innovations of this apocryphal text lie, so we can
better distinguish what comes from the canonical, biblical sources, what comes
from the Acts of Pilate, and what comes from other sources. These Acts
spoke with specific authority to their audience.
Chapter Two takes up diachronic questions
concerning the original, canonical views of Jesus' trial (Mark, Matthew, Luke,
and John), the innovations as presented in the Acts of Pilate, and their
gradual reception into vernacular German texts from the thirteenth to the fifteenth
centuries. Chapter Three presents aspects of the discourses in late-fifteenth-century
Frankfurt, in particular concerning the locus of the production (the Römerberg)
and the isolation of the Frankfurt Jewish community from their Christian neighbors,
with special emphasis on the rôle of the Passion play productions in this
discourse. In Chapter Four, I analyze the trial scene from the 1493 play with
special reference to the previously discussed discourses, and with comparison
of the play text to the Acts of Pilate. Finally, in Chaper Five, I look
at the end of the Passion play tradition in Frankfurt and the further reception
of the Acts of Pilate in the sixteenth century, with special reference
to their shift from the stage to the page, as they disappear from the religious
theater, but reappear in early printed editions.
The process of separating Jew from
Christian began already in the first-century canonical gospels of Mark, Matthew,
Luke, and John. Each of these built upon and responded to existing versions
of Jesus' trial. In fact, the later Acts of Pilate follow the lead of
the canon in their tendency to exonerate Pilate and place greater blame for
Jesus' death on the Jewish leaders. The canonical versions are noteworthy especially
in their brevity, and in their consistent depiction of Jesus as standing alone
before Pilate, completely abandoned by his followers.
The apocryphal version of the trial
begins with ten Jewish leaders (including Annas and Caiaphas) approaching Pilate
voicing their demand that Jesus be tried. They cite preliminary charges that
he claims to be the Son of God and that he violates the Sabbath. Pilate attempts
to counter the latter charge himself. Then Pilate's cursor escorts Jesus in,
greeting him with respect. At the same time, the imperial standards miraculously
bow in homage to him. This leads to a lengthy argument in which the story of
Jesus' entry into Jerusalem is recounted. The Jewish leaders accuse Jesus of
causing the dream of Pilate's wife which warns against involvement in the trial.
After this, the charge is raised that Jesus is illegitimate, but then Nicodemus,
supported by twelve Jews favoring Jesus, claims that his parents—Joseph and
Mary—were legally married. The trial continues with further charges, and Pilate
attempts to set the proceedings aside as unfounded. Then Nicodemus steps forward
and presents his argument in Jesus' favor: If Jesus is from God, then his works
will be lasting, and if he is merely human, then his works will fall away. This
is based upon the speech by Gamaliel in the canonical Acts of the Apostles.
Finally, five witnesses testify before the court that Jesus has cured them.
Again, the Jewish leadership attempts to squelch their testimony. Even Pilate,
himself, condemns the Jews as "seditious and in rebellion" against their benefactors.
Of course, Jesus is eventually taken out and crucified. Throughout the trial,
however, Pilate has been shown to favor Jesus, while the Jewish leaders have
consistently refused to accept Jesus as divine. In fact, they often manipulate
the situation in order to keep Jesus' followers quiet.
Each of the German poets who transformed
this tale into vernacular narrative verse approached the story differently.
However, they and later compilers always placed the Acts of Pilate within
wider narratives of the Passion, death, and Resurrection by interweaving apocryphal
and canonical material. At the same time, each poet raised the status of the
story's authority, even claiming that its purported author was the only follower
of Jesus to witness the actual trial. By the late fifteenth century, when the
Frankfurt Passion Play was performed, the text's (and its supposed author's)
authority had been largely established.
Already in the first of these poetic
treatments, Konrad von Heimesfurt's Urstende (ca. 1225), the Jewish leadership
at Jesus' trial is very negatively depicted. The Jews are consistently shown
to be uncourtly and their anger at Jesus shows an extreme lack of moderation.
The second poet, Gundacker von Judenburg (Christi Hort, mid-thirteenth
century) does not exaggerate the rôle of the Jewish leadership in the
same way; however, he does continue his story with the destruction of Jerusalem.
Finally, Heinrich von Hesler (Evangelium Nicodemi, ca. 1300) goes the
furthest in blaming Jesus' death on the Jewish leaders. Most important for the
later discourse on the Jews in late medieval Frankfurt (and Germany, in general)
is the correlation Heinrich draws between the actions of the Jewish leadership
at the trial and the position of Jews in the society of his own day. He overtly
calls for the conversion of the Jews, and sees their practice of usury as destructive
of all Christianity. It was his version of the Gospel of Nicodemus (and
the description of the trial of Jesus in the Acts of Pilate) which was
to be the most popular in the later Middle Ages. The subsequent treatments of
the Acts of Pilate/Gospel of Nicodemus in the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries (Heinrich von München's Weltchronik, Die Neue Ee,
numerous translations) enhanced the text's authority as an eyewitness report
of the events surrounding the trial of Jesus.
The Frankfurt Passion Play
was an important constituent in the discourses within the life of the late medieval
city. The very setting of the productions was heavily laden with images and
representations of the powers within the societal and cultural milieu. The Römerberg
was the primary sphere of self-assertion for the patrician-dominated Frankfurt
city council, which was the dominant power in fifteenth-century life. In addition,
the square represented the city's relationship to the Holy Roman Emperor, who
often made public appearances on it. As the site of two major European-wide
trade fairs (one in the Spring and one in late Summer), it was also the center
of economic life for the city. In one particular instance—unique within medieval
German religious drama—the producers of the Frankfurt play depicted the Roman
Emperor assigning Pilate to the governorship in Judea. The Jewish leaders who
approach the Emperor in this matter are shown to be deceitful. Potential representational
associations between the "historical" emperor on stage and the contemporary
emperor (the direct overlord of the city), could have reflected adversely on
certain political institutions within the city. So, while the play productions
helped to unite the diverse factions within the urban society, the performances
also helped to expose the cracks around the edges of medieval social structures.
The scene of Pilate being assigned
already leads us into the primary discourse in which the Passion Play had a
vital rôle: the ongoing pattern of isolation of the Jewish populace from
the Christians in Frankfurt. The paths of separation within the city at that
time were multiple and varied. In 1462, the Jews were moved to a newly built
ghetto. In the mid 1470's a painting of a Judensau ("Jew's sow") was
placed upon the most important city bridge over the Main river. In the course
of the fifteenth century, city laws concerning the Jewish community became more
and more restrictive. The discourse of isolation toward the Jews in Frankfurt
took on many forms, and consisted of many voices, both within the city walls,
and from far beyond: the city council, the local clergy, the guilds, the emperor,
the pope, the archbishop of Mainz, and even the Jews themselves.
The play was one of the primary ideological
state apparatusses which supported this discourse of isolation. As numerous
studies have shown—by Winfried Frey, Edith Wenzel, Vincent Marsicano, and others—the
play's depiction of the Jewish leadership showed them to be guilty of the injustice
committed against Jesus. More importantly, these studies have shown that there
were many ways in which the Jews on stage were to be associated with—and perhaps
identified with—the Jews of Frankfurt: through references to usury, the use
of local Jewish names, etc. The overall impact of the productions could only
have been the further isolation of the Jews from the Christians.
This discourse of isolation could
be manifested occasionally in unexpected ways. In 1494 and again in 1512 we
have incidents recorded in which Jewesses were publically baptized in Frankfurt.
Since nearly all baptisms within Christian families were undertaken almost immediately
after birth, they were done as private events, within the homes of the families.
So these two public baptisms stand out as being quite different from the usual
ritual. It is in the earlier manuscript for the Frankfurt Passion Play,
however, that we find an interesting parallel to these baptisms. The Frankfurt
Director's Scroll (early fourteenth century) ends with a group of "Jews"
approaching the narrator, Augustine, and asking for baptism. Thus, the play
functions not only to isolate and separate the Jewish community, it also provides
a limited means by which members of this community can be incorporated into
the body of Christ.
Finally, we come to the second trial
scene with Jesus before Pilate in the Frankfurt Passion Play of 1493
(lines 2915-3537), which is one of the longest among those in medieval German
religious drama. It comes after Jesus has been led to Caiaphas, Annas, Pilate
(for the first time), and Herod. The scene shows a strong tendency to encourage
the audience to look back at earlier events in the play and (for those familiar
with popular Christian beliefs) forward at events yet to come. As a result,
the audience is placed in the position of judging the actions of the Jewish
leadership from their pre-knowledge of the events from the previous day and
from the later Passion story.
As the scene progresses, the Jewish
leadership is shown to be opposed by political authority (in the person of Pilate),
heathendom (in the person of Pilate's personal messenger, or cursor), the devils
(during the dream of Pilate's wife), and finally from all of the proto-Christians
(those who testify that Jesus healed them). Each conflict between the Jewish
leaders (Annas, Caiaphas and Synagogus) and another group results in the Jews
looking worse, until only the Jews are shown to favor the death of Jesus.
The call for judgment is especially strong in the conflict between the Jewish
leaders and Machmet ("Mohammed"), Pilate's cursor. Machmet not only receives
Jesus with respect, he addresses him as lord. Annas contests his actions, and
the events of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem are recounted, much as they had occurred
on the previous day of the play. Annas is forced to testify against his own
interests by explaining what the Hebrew word "Osanna" (Hosanna) means in German
and then admitting that the Jewish children did indeed greet Jesus as lord.
Thus, the "noble heathen," Machmet, can recognize and accept Jesus immediately,
while Annas (and the rest of the Jewish leadership) recognize Jesus, but refuse
to accept him. While the story of Pilate's cursor originated in the Acts
of Pilate, the anachronistic association with Islam did not appear there.
It appears to be an invention of the play's producers. For a Central European
audience in the last decade of the fifteenth century, the Jews could be perceived
as more dangerous to Christianity than the followers of Islam—some of whom (in
the authority of the Turkish Ottoman empire) were currently conquering predominantly
Christian regions of eastern and southeastern Europe.
In a particularly telling example,
the devils (led by Lucifer and Satan) come to the realization that Jesus' death
will mean that they will lose the souls they have thus far collected—mostly
figures from the Old Testament. They decide to approach Pilate's wife (her name
as given by the Acts of Pilate is Procula), and encourage her to intercede
on Jesus' behalf. Again, these actions on the part of the devil do not appear
in the Acts of Pilate, but they have grown out of an assertion made by
the Jewish leaders in that apocryphal story. There they accuse Jesus of using
magic to cause the dream of Pilate's wife. Here, the play's producers turn this
assertion into a scene showing the devil attempting to save Jesus' life
(because he leads a "just life"). In the end, the Jewish leaders are completely
alone in pursuing the death of Jesus.
Another strong call to comparison
with previous events in the play comes in the testimony by those who claim that
Jesus cured them. Some of these cures appeared on the previous day of the play,
although the correspondences were not fully consistently treated. In the first
case, Annas uses the testimony of the sick man of Bethesda to prove that Jesus
was curing people on the Sabbath. For the Jewish leadership, this accusation
(violation of the Sabbath by curing others) is of paramount importance. Their
allegience to Mosaic law seems to make them blind to the presence of God here
before them, in the person of Jesus. Finally, the testimony of Veronica (he
healed her blood flow which had lasted twelve years) is challenged because according
to Jewish law, women are not allowed to testify in court. Of course, this exchange—based
entirely upon the Acts of Pilate—merely shows the Jewish leadership attempting
to silence the Christian message. By the fifteenth century, Veronica had already
been established both as a saint (therefore, she spoke with divine authority)
and as a regular figure at the events of the Passion (especially with her veil
during Jesus' tortuous path to Calvary). Thus, a Christian audience would be
predisposed to believe and accept her testimony.
In the final chapter, I attempt to
show how the late medieval fascination with this text changes with the advent
of printing and the end of the tradition of religious drama in Frankfurt. The
performance records for Frankfurt am Main become most numerous in the mid-fifteenth
century and continue up to 1515, when the last request to perform a religious
play there was rejected. These records frequently point up tensions within Frankfurt
society, especially as they pertain to the performances. These tensions centered
on the logistics of performance (availability of the Römerberg, digging
holes in the main square, etc.) and the cost, as well as on the content of the
plays ("Caveatur amplius ad evitandum supersticiones"), and finally on social
questions concerning who was producing, performing and supporting such plays.
After the large-scale performances in 1492, 1498 and 1506—each lasting four
days, and involving more than 200 persons in the production—the play tradition
essentially ceased. While subsequent Passion Plays (either Catholic ones from
Lucerne or Villingen, or Protestant ones by Hans Sachs or Jakob Rueff) continued
to reveal some minor knowledge of the Acts of Pilate, none of the later
plays demonstrate direct borrowing, nor do the authors/compilers base their
presentation of the trial before Pilate upon the Acts.
Interest in the Gospel of Nicodemus
(including the Acts of Pilate) continued throughout the sixteenth century
in the form of vernacular printed editions. Thus, the primary forum for this
material moved from the stage to the printed page. Nicodemus was no longer the
main witness to the trial, but his account was still considered useful background
reading. These editions essentially stop in the early seventeenth century, and
do not start up again until a renewed interest in apocryphal literature in general
arises in the mid-eighteenth century.
While the late medieval audience
for the Frankfurt Passion Play probably did not experience this production
as first and foremost an exercise in anti-Judaism, these presentations did not
occur within a cultural and historical vacuum. The play grew out of and fed
back into the social discourses within the city and Central Europe in general.
While the play seems to have fit entirely within the horizon of expectations
of the audience in the late fifteenth century, by the early sixteenth century
its rôle in the society was in question. As Christians became more interested
in attacking each other, the play's rôle—along with that of the Acts
of Pilate—in the isolation discourse faded away.
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