Vespasian had just been named emperor, but his rule was not yet secured. While he waited in Alexandria for favorable weather in order to be able to sail for Rome he was badgered by two sick men who wanted him to heal them. One was blind and the other scarcely had the use of one of his hands any longer. The blind man begged Vespasian to spread the imperial saliva on his eyes and eyeballs. The other asked the emperor to touch his crippled hand with the sole of his foot. At first Vespasian found the idea ridiculous, but as the two sick men continued to bother him he began to like the idea. Of course, he did not want to embarrass himself, so first he obtained a medical opinion. The doctors were ambivalent. A healing might be possible, and it could be brought about by natural causes. But it might also be that the gods wanted to help Vespasian. Ultimately, the emperor attempted the healing in the presence of the assembled crowd. “He was convinced,” Tacitus writes, “that there were no limits to his destiny: nothing now seemed incredible.” And behold: the hand was healed and the blind man could see again.
There can be no doubt about this event. The charism of healing was expected of a new emperor or king, and not only then. The idea endured in Europe beyond the Middle Ages and into the nineteenth century: in France and England it was part of the ritual that a newly anointed king should touch sick people. Apparently, from time to time, the special circumstances and the sick person’s expectations released healing powers.
Josephus tells another story in his
[A]nd this method of cure is of great force unto this day; for I have seen a certain man of my own country whose name was Eleazar, releasing people that were demoniacal in the presence of Vespasian, and his sons, and his captains, and the whole multitude of his soldiers. The manner of the cure was this: He put a ring that had a root of one of those sorts mentioned by Solomon to the nostrils of the demoniac, after which he drew out the demon through his nostrils; and when the man fell down immediately, he abjured him to return into him no more, making still mention of Solomon, and reciting the incantations which he composed. And when Eleazar would persuade and demonstrate to the spectators that he had such a power, he set a little way off a cup or basin full of water, and commanded the demon, as he went out of the man, to overturn it, and thereby to let the spectators know that he had left the man; and when this was done, the skill and wisdom of Solomon was shown very manifestly.
Josephus explicitly emphasizes his own status as eyewitness (
So Josephus tells of demons being driven out by a Jewish exorcist. What is most revealing in this is the way he proceeds: by calling on the name of Solomon, with magical formulae that supposedly come from Solomon, and by causing the victim to smell a magical root. That draws the demon out of the possessed person. Finally, the demons are also adjured not to return. We know from Luke 9:49 that another Jewish exorcist used the name “Jesus” in his treatment of possessed persons—further proof of the activity of Jewish exorcists! Apparently they too were successful.
But the difference between them and Jesus is striking: in his exorcisms Jesus never made use of a “name.” He acted on his own authority. Above all: he never employed magical practices. Finally, he did not stage any demonstrations as Eleazar did in causing the expelled demon to upset a basin.
Besides Eleazar we can mention two other Jewish names: Honi the Circle-Drawer (first c. BCE) and Chanina ben Dosa (first c. CE). Both were charismatics, wonder workers, and people who healed by prayer. Honi was famous for his prayer for rain. It is said that during a period of severe drought he drew a circle, placed himself within it, and said that he would not leave that circle until God caused it to rain. Thereupon it rained so heavily that he had to beg God for a suitable amount of rain (