What’s the first thing you think of when you hear the word “martyr”? Radical Islamists hoping to die in battle with Israel? Something that the Catholic Church seems to have a lot of? Your mother-in-law saying that it’s all right, she’ll just sit there in the dark?

Maybe all of the above. One thing we don’t think of that often is that there are Jewish martyrs: those who willingly went to their deaths rather than undergo forced conversions to Christianity; those who stood up against Imperial Rome when Torah study and Jewish practices were outlawed and were put to death for their convictions; maybe even those who died in the camps during the Holocaust.

There is a Hebrew term, kiddush haShem, which literally means “sanctification of God” or “of God’s name.” And behavior by Jews that were acts of kindness and justice sanctified the name of God. At some point in Jewish history, the term also began to be used specifically for martyrdom. During medieval times, when confronted with the choice of forced conversion to Christianity (usually Catholicism) or death, many Jews chose the latter—and died reciting the words of the Shema. This was considered the ultimate act of sanctifying God’s name, by remaining loyal to the God of Israel.

Today, the terms kiddush haShem and its opposite, chillul haShem (desecration of God’s name), are often shorthand for “Is our behavior good for the Jews or bad for the Jews?” If someone Jewish is, say, convicted of a Ponzi scheme, we say they committed a chillul haShem. Their acts reflect poorly on the Jewish people and, by extension, on the God of the Jewish people as well.

But with martyrdom, there was no question of whether it was good or bad for the Jews—it was simply laying down one’s life in service to God, performing the ultimate sacrifice. But since this kind of faithfulness undoubtedly strengthened the faith of other Jews and helped ensure the survival, rather than the assimilation, of the Jewish people, we can judge it good for the Jews as well.

What does Jesus have to do with any of this?

Take a poll of Jewish people and pose the question, “Who was Jesus?” At one time, the answer would not have been very flattering, but it is now common to hear that he was a rabbi, a good teacher, the first Reform Jew (in other words, he upset the religious apple cart), a prophet, or a martyr. What many have in mind by the last description is that Jesus died at the hands of the Romans, perishing in a messianic cause that didn’t pan out.

As it happens, there is a large assortment of modern Jewish writers and poets who have written about Jesus’ death as martyrdom, firmly placing Jesus within his Jewish milieu alongside the multitude of other Jews who also died martyrs’ deaths.

For example, the late Matthew Hoffman wrote that,

For almost all modern Jewish writers Jesus’ death is understood more within the Jewish tradition of martyrdom than the Christian tradition of vicarious atonement and sacrifice. Part of the appropriation of Jesus from Christianity involves Jews reinterpreting the very meaning of his death.1

It is not necessarily a “reinterpretation” of his death to see him in terms of martyrdom. However, the New Testament does not picture his death as that of a victim overrun by powerful external forces. In contrast to the Jews of later centuries who were murdered by no choice of their own, the New Testament portrays Jesus as intentionally going to his death in service to his “cause.”

In Jesus’ own words: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”2

The idea is foreign to modern urbanites (the wildest animal I ever saw growing up in Brooklyn was a pigeon!), but sheep are frequent biblical images for people in need of protection, guidance, and care, all of which were provided by the ancient occupation of a shepherd. So, the idea behind this metaphor is not that sheep are mindless followers but that they are vulnerable and need a shepherd to steer and guide them.

A good shepherd, as opposed to a lazy one, guarded the flock against predatory animals as well as thieves who would have loved to seize some of the flock for a lamb chop dinner. The shepherd even protected the sheep from themselves because of their natural tendency to go astray (e.g., Psalm 119:176). A shepherd was like a Boy Scout troop leader and security guard rolled into one. Would this guard be slacking off, checking his iPhone, or napping? Or would he be vigilant, if need be, even sacrificing his own life for the sake of keeping the flock safe—in other words, be a good shepherd?

Again, from the mouth of Jesus: “I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.”3

Here, just a few verses after the first quote above, we find Jesus stating the same thing in even starker terms, along with the implication that he will be raised from the dead (“that I may take it up again”).

Later on in the New Testament, this idea is drawn out more explicitly.

For while we were still weak, at the right time Messiah died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Messiah died for us.4

This quote invokes common human behavior: most people do not willingly give up their lives for another person. Someone might sacrifice themselves in battle to save a buddy or to get someone else out of harm’s way, but that is not typical behavior. The media has even reported on times when crowds have stood around observing a crime in action without doing anything to stop it, the so-called “Bystander Effect.”5 Much less do people choose self-sacrifice for someone they consider enemies.

But Jesus gave up his own life to atone for our sins even while humanity stood opposed to God. Now that is a kiddush haShem!

What about the other, more contemporary meaning of kiddush haShem? Was Jesus’ death good for the Jews?

If we’re basing our answer on the history of Jewish persecution by would-be followers of Jesus, the answer should be no. After all, Jews have been beaten, attacked, slandered, and vilified for being “Christ-killers,” an ancient accusation that has lasted into recent times.6

But in fact, Jesus’ death is portrayed in the New Testament as very good for the Jews, indeed. By reconciling us to God, he secures our ultimate hope for peace and prosperity.

When Jesus was brought by his parents to the Temple in Jerusalem for his consecration (the first-century version of today’s pidyon ha-ben ceremony), an old man named Simeon (or Shimon) was hanging around. Apparently, he was also a poet (artistic types always seem to be hanging around!), because when he saw Jesus and his parents,

He took him up in his arms and blessed God and said, “Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.”7

In other words, Jesus was good for the Jews, even if there were those who have misrepresented him. His death atoned for our sins in a way even Yom Kippur cannot. His resurrection from death ensures life for those who believe in him. He brings shalom to communities of Jewish and non-Jewish followers alike. Many of his non-Jewish followers today are standing with Israel and the Jewish people at a time of rising antisemitism.

Jesus’ life was indeed a kiddish haShem, as he taught wisdom and healed those who were suffering. Jesus’ death was also a kiddish haShem because he laid down his life as a Jewish martyr for the sake of others. In life, death, and, yes, in his resurrection, too, what Jesus taught and did was “good for the Jews.”

Endnotes

1. Matthew Hoffman, From Rebel to Rabbi: Reclaiming Jesus and the Making of Modern Jewish Culture (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007), 125. Hoffman was assistant professor of Judaic Studies and History at Franklin & Marshall College. He passed away in 2020.

2. John 10:11.

3. John 10:17–18.

4. Romans 5:6–8.

5. See, e.g., Latane and Darley, “Defining the Bystander Effect: Kitty Genovese Murder & Research,” Study, May 24, 2013.

6. Considering that the New Testament portrays Jesus’ death as atoning for the sins of humanity, one would think that the goyim would be glad for his death, no matter who crucified him. But as ancient Jewish wisdom has it, “Go figure.”

7. Luke 2:28–32; emphasis added.