By Hyam Maccoby, with Introduction by Lewis Loflin
As a follower of Hyam Maccoby, I find his take on Jesus—a Jewish messianic leader, not the divine figure of Christianity—both compelling and grounded. In my own work, like “Paul of Tarsus: Greatest Source of Christian Doctrine”, I’ve argued that Paul, not Jesus, shaped Christianity, twisting a Jewish movement into a Gentile religion of sin and redemption. Maccoby’s *Revolution in Judaea* echoes this, stripping away Paul’s distortions to reveal Jesus as a revolutionary Prophet-King, rooted in Jewish tradition. As a Deist, I see reason in Maccoby’s Jesus—one who trusted divine justice over military might, not Paul’s irrational atonement. Below, Maccoby re-dates the Triumphal Entry to autumn, aligning it with Tabernacles and Jesus’s royal mission. His insight cuts through Gospel myth, much as I’ve sought to expose Paul’s legacy.
The Gospels depict Jesus repeatedly prophesying his death in Jerusalem and subsequent resurrection. His disciples, however, are shown failing to grasp these prophecies. At one point, a serious quarrel erupts between Jesus and Peter over this very issue. While we may doubt Jesus anticipated his own death, it’s plausible that tensions arose between him and his chief followers, the Twelve, during this period.
The likely cause of this dissension was the strategy for resisting Roman rule. Jesus’s disciples, with their Zealot leanings, may have pushed for a full-scale armed rebellion. The nationwide fervor greeting Jesus as a Prophet-King offered a prime chance to muster a large army against the Romans.
Jesus, however, was a staunch apocalyptist. He believed the fight against Rome would be won largely through miraculous intervention, not military might. He made no serious preparations for war. Far from a political or military opportunist, Jesus staked his life on a mission he saw as cosmic in scope. Unlike Judas Maccabaeus, who expelled the Greeks by force to establish a Hasmonean dynasty, Jesus aimed to usher in the kingdom of God—a new era in world history—or nothing at all.
The Triumphal Entry marked the zenith of Jesus’s political career. Apocalyptic hopes, first as a Prophet and then as a Prophet-King, erupted into an ecstatic welcome. Throngs in Jerusalem hailed him with cries of “Hosanna! Save us!”
When did this occur? The Gospels place it at Passover, in spring. Yet, several clues suggest otherwise—that the Triumphal Entry happened in autumn, during the Feast of Tabernacles. The Gospels cram the Entry, the Cleansing of the Temple, preaching, the Last Supper, and multiple trials (before the High Priest, Sanhedrin, Herod Antipas, and Pilate) into six days. This compression strains credulity for human political and judicial processes. A more plausible timeline places the Entry just before Tabernacles, with Jesus’s crucifixion six months later at Passover.
The palm branches of Palm Sunday offer a glaring hint. In spring, around Passover, fresh palms are scarce in the region—withered remnants from autumn wouldn’t suffice for such a welcome. Palms, however, are central to Tabernacles’ rites, alongside “branches of trees” used to roof the festival’s booths (Leviticus 23:40). These elements, profuse in autumn, align with the Entry’s imagery.
A curious detail bolsters this: Jesus cursing the fig tree right after the Entry. Approaching a fruitless tree, he declared, “Let no fruit grow on thee henceforth forever” (Mark 11:14). Figs ripen in autumn, not spring—no one would expect fruit at Passover. Jesus’s reaction, steeped in Galilean belief in evil spirits, likely stemmed from prophetic expectations of messianic abundance (Joel 2:22: “the fig tree and the vine do yield their strength”). A barren tree may have signaled to him an evil spirit resisting God’s kingdom.
The crowd’s cry of “Hosanna” (Hebrew: *hosha-na*, “save, please”) further ties the Entry to Tabernacles. This plea, liturgically unique to that festival, was directed to God, not Jesus, meaning roughly, “Save us, God, through your Messiah.” In Hebrew Scriptures, “save” often denotes deliverance through rulers or warriors (e.g., Judges). At Tabernacles, such a prayer for salvation fit Jesus’s mission perfectly.
Tabernacles held special royal significance. Unlike most Jewish rites, where the king played little role, this festival featured the monarch entering the Temple Court to read “the paragraph of the King” (Deuteronomy 17:14-20)—his duties under Mosaic Law—every seventh year, after the Year of Release. Jesus likely timed his Entry to coincide with this, planning his coronation and Royal Progress to arrive just before the festival. As King, he’d renew this rite, signaling his accession and commitment to rule as savior.
King Solomon loomed large in Jesus’s mind. At Tabernacles, Solomon dedicated the First Temple, offering a stirring prayer from a platform in the Temple Court (1 Kings 8). Jesus’s first act—cleansing the Temple—mirrors this. Far from the Gospels’ trivialized whip-wielding outburst, it was a kingly reform, purging the Sadducean High Priesthood’s corruption. Backed by the masses, Jesus overwhelmed the Temple police. He may even have appointed a new High Priest, a royal prerogative seen later in the Jewish War of 66 CE.
At his peak, Jesus likely re-dedicated the Temple for the Messianic age, reading “the paragraph of the King” and praying like Solomon for his regime. A muddled account in John (John 7) hints at this Tabernacles visit, though it separates it from the Entry. The parallel clarifies a later charge: Jesus threatening to destroy and rebuild the Temple. He may have intended this once his kingdom was secure. Herod’s Temple, built by “Herod the Wicked,” was tolerated by Pharisees but not deemed fit for the Messiah’s reign. They’d have welcomed its replacement—only Caiaphas and his clique would balk.
The autumn timing fits Zechariah’s prophecy too. He foresaw the Last Days’ battle at Tabernacles, with nations later celebrating it in Jerusalem (Zechariah 14:16). Jesus’s entry on a colt fulfilled Zechariah 9:9, signaling his intent to confront Rome before the festival’s end.
Why then do the Gospels shift the Entry to spring? Gentile-Christian tradition prioritized Jesus’s crucifixion—his “real” story—over his Jewish mission. Telescoping events into a dramatic Passion Week, tied to Passover, heightened this focus. Spring resonated with resurrection cults like Adonis or Attis, where a Young God’s feting preceded his sacrifice. Christianity’s appeal to the pagan world leaned on such echoes.
For Jesus, expecting triumph, autumn—the harvest season of joy—made sense. His parables liken God’s kingdom to harvest (e.g., Matthew 13). Tabernacles, with its command to “be wholly joyful” (Deuteronomy 16:15), marked the Jewish year’s peak, post-purification, celebrating a secure harvest. Passover began the salvation story with the Exodus; autumn, as with Solomon’s reign, crowned it with triumph.
This piece is drawn from Hyam Maccoby’s Revolution in Judaea: Jesus and the Jewish Resistance (Ocean Books, 1973; Taplinger, 1980). Edited and introduced by Lewis Loflin with assistance from Grok (xAI), March 27, 2025.
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