Booger McLovin

When Jesus of Nazareth walked the streets of Judea, His works astonished the crowds and unsettled the leaders. He healed the blind, opened the ears of the deaf, cleansed lepers, stilled storms, cast out legions of demons, and even called the dead back to life. These were not hidden deeds whispered about in secret corners. They were public events, witnessed by multitudes. The question facing His contemporaries was never whether He performed wonders, but rather by what power He did them.

The Gospels record how quickly suspicion hardened into accusation. After He healed a man both blind and mute, the Pharisees declared, “This man casts out demons only by Beelzebul, the ruler of the demons” (Matthew 12:24). Scribes from Jerusalem said the same, charging Him with being possessed by the prince of demons (Mark 3:22). Others sneered, “He has a demon and is insane” (John 10:20). At His trial before the council, the implication remained: His authority was illegitimate and His power unlawful. They had no choice but to acknowledge the miracles, yet their hearts could not bend to the conclusion those miracles pointed to. They branded Him a sorcerer.

This accusation did not vanish with the passing of time. When the teachings of the rabbis were finally written down centuries later in the Mishnah and the Talmud, fragments of memory about Jesus remained. In Sanhedrin 43a we read: “On the eve of Passover, Yeshu the Nazarene was hanged. For forty days a herald went before him crying, ‘He is going to be stoned because he practiced sorcery and led Israel astray.’” It is a hostile record, yet telling. They remembered that He was executed at Passover. They remembered that He had disciples. They remembered His works as powerful. And yet, rather than confess those works as divine, they explained them away as sorcery.

Other accusations were more imaginative still. Since Matthew’s Gospel records that the infant Jesus was taken to Egypt when Joseph fled Herod’s wrath, later critics twisted this episode into a tale of apprenticeship in dark arts. By the second century the philosopher Celsus could claim that Jesus, having spent time in Egypt, returned to Israel armed with magical powers. Origen, in his great rebuttal Contra Celsum, quotes Celsus accusing Jesus of learning sorcery abroad and then deceiving the crowds with His tricks. What the Gospel writers presented as God’s providential protection, the enemies of Christ reshaped into a fable of Egyptian magic.

Even Jewish sources carried the same theme. Josephus, the first century historian, referred to Jesus as a “doer of startling deeds,” which, though more restrained, acknowledges His reputation as a wonder worker. The Babylonian Talmud contains additional disparaging remarks, again connecting Him with sorcery. The fact that Celsus, a pagan critic, echoed this charge shows that the accusation had become the standard way to grapple with a figure whose extraordinary power could not be denied.

What emerges from these varied voices is striking. Across friends and foes alike there is agreement on the central fact: Jesus performed mighty works. His disciples testified that these signs revealed Him as the Messiah, the Son of God. His enemies conceded the same works but attributed them to sorcery. Thus, the debate was never over the reality of the deeds, but over their source. To admit they were from God would require submission to the One who performed them, so His opponents chose to corrupt the explanation rather than bend the knee.

Ironically, this slander strengthens the case for Christ. Hostile witnesses are often the most reluctant but the most valuable. The rabbis, the Talmud, the pagan philosophers—none of them deny His miraculous works. They only twist their origin. In doing so, they unwittingly testify that something extraordinary occurred, something impossible to ignore, something that demanded an explanation.

The choice that confronted Jerusalem two thousand years ago still confronts us today. Either Jesus was a deceiver who wielded dark powers, or He was the Christ who came with the Spirit of God. To believe the first is to see the light and call it darkness. To believe the second is to confess, with the disciples, “Truly You are the Son of God.” Jesus Himself set the terms: “If I cast out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you” (Matthew 12:28). The miracles that forced a decision then continue to demand one now.