Let me begin with a confession that puts the whole case on edge. The date this book defends — Wednesday, 25 April of the year 31 — is no discovery of mine. It was not dug up from some hidden corner of the tradition, not reconstructed from a disputed manuscript, not conjured into being by a creative trick of arithmetic. It stands, in black and white, in the standard work of the man who investigated the date of the crucifixion more deeply than anyone in the twentieth century — and who himself defended the Friday.
Joachim Jeremias, in Die Abendmahlsworte Jesu, puts a clear question to the astronomy: did the fourteenth or the fifteenth of Nisan fall on a Friday in any of the years around 30? And he sets the answer in a table. For the year 31 that table gives, in the column he calls "astronomically calculated", a single outcome: 14 Nisan = Wednesday, 25 April (Jeremias, 1960, p. 32). That is the date of this book, in print, in an opponent's work, half a century before I was born. And note what Jeremias places around it — or rather, does not place. Beside the year 30 he flags his own astronomical column with "kaum" — hardly. Beside the year 31 he leaves it unflagged. It stands as the plain reading. The Friday he needs for his own thesis he must enter beneath it with the little word "evtl." — possibly, perhaps.
See what happens there. The defender of the Friday computes for himself, independently, and arrives for AD 31 at a Wednesday as the natural outcome — and at a Friday only as an exception he must plead for. To reach that Friday he needs two things: that the year 31 was an intercalary year, and that a clouded sky held the first lunar crescent back a day, so that Nisan began one day later (Jeremias, 1960, p. 35). Two auxiliary assumptions for the Friday; for the Wednesday he needs only one — the intercalary year. And yet that Wednesday appears on no shortlist of candidate dates. Why not?
That is the question of this chapter, and the answer is disconcertingly simple. AD 31 did not disappear because it was weighed and found wanting. It disappeared because a single axiom excluded it before any weighing. That axiom runs: the crucifixion was on a Friday. And once that axiom stands as a point of departure rather than as a conclusion, a Wednesday is no longer a candidate but a category error — a date that has not been found wrong, but that is never even admitted among the contenders.
Expert"kaum" and "evtl.", the little words that give everything away
Jeremias writes in German, and his two hedge-words are diagnostic. Kaum means "hardly"; it flags an outcome as highly improbable. Evtl. is the abbreviation of eventuell, "possibly, perhaps"; it flags an outcome as a conceivable exception. In his table the astronomical Wednesday of AD 31 receives neither label — it stands there as the plain reading — while the Friday he defends carries the label evtl. His own sentence on p. 33 confirms it: in the years 30, 31 and 34 the fifteenth of Nisan fell "möglicherweise" — possibly — on a Friday. Möglicherweise, not as a matter of fact. The language of the source itself, then, says: Wednesday is the measurement, Friday is the plea.
How does such an axiom work? It works as a filter that makes itself invisible. Take the astronomical literature that is supposed to exclude AD 31. The best-known modern dating, that of Humphreys and Waddington, must decide whether the year 31 had an intercalary month — the month that shifts Nisan into April and yields the Wednesday. They reject that intercalary month. And the reason they give for it stands in their own article: if Nisan fell a month later, "in no year would 14 Nisan fall on a Friday" (Humphreys & Waddington, 1992, p. 336). Read that sentence once more. The intercalary month is rejected because it yields no Friday. But that the crucifixion fell on a Friday is precisely what was to be demonstrated. The conclusion has become the premise, and the circle is closed. They concede, moreover, that there are "no historical records" of which years between 26 and 36 had an intercalary month — so there is nothing to measure; there is only the axiom, deciding.
And once the axiom sits in the foundations, no one needs to say it aloud any more. It is inherited. Take the most recent example known to me: an Oxford monograph of 2025, T. C. Schmidt's Josephus and Jesus. Eleven times Schmidt writes of "the Passover of 30/33", as a self-evident range. Nowhere does he argue for that range. He does not mention AD 31 a single time — not to reject it, but because it is not in view. And the word "Wednesday" does not occur once in all three hundred and thirty-seven pages, not even to dismiss it (Schmidt, 2025). This is no reproach to Schmidt; it is a diagnosis of the discipline. The year of the crucifixion is not measured afresh each time. It is handed down, footnote to footnote, like an heirloom no one appraises any more.
DossierJeremias's table, and the bill for his Friday
Jeremias's astronomically calculated column (column 1), for the years around 30:
year
14 Nisan (calculated)
label
30
Friday 7 April
astronomical column "kaum"
31
Wednesday 25 April
no label — the baseline reading
33
Friday 3 April
—
34
Tuesday 23 March
—
The bill for his own Friday. To land AD 31 on a Friday, Jeremias must shift 1 Nisan from the calculated 12 April to 13 April — "infolge von Bewölkung um einen Tag verschoben", shifted by one day owing to cloud cover (1960, p. 35). His calculated 1 Nisan is therefore 12 April — precisely the date that yields the Wednesday. The Friday requires an extra, unprovable auxiliary assumption (a clouded sky on the decisive evening); the Wednesday requires none — for a visible first crescent is the rule, not an assumption, and it is precisely the cloud cover that must be pleaded as the exception. And his own conclusion is, moreover, remarkably honest: "the astronomical chronology unfortunately leads to no certain result"; the only thing astronomy establishes with certainty is that the years 29 and 32 drop out (1960, p. 35). Whoever claims that astronomy excludes AD 31 is contradicting the most thorough investigator of the date of the crucifixion. [CALCULATED · appendix A]
Mark well what is and is not being claimed here, for the honesty of this book stands or falls with it. I do not claim that Jeremias's table proves the Wednesday; Jeremias himself reads that column under the Johannine chronology he rejects, and the figure is his, the construal is not. Nor do I claim that the consensus is stupid or dishonest. I claim something far more limited, and for that very reason harder: that the exclusion of AD 31 is nowhere a measurement. It is an axiom. And an axiom is not a measurement — it is a starting point one chooses, and which one can therefore also test instead of assume.
Countercasethe strongest case for the axiom
Let the defender of the Friday make his best move here, for the axiom is not plucked from thin air. The early church is all but unanimous: the crucifixion fell on the day before the sabbath. The gospels call that day paraskeuê, the day of preparation; the confessions say "died, buried, and raised on the third day"; and the liturgy has kept Good Friday from the very beginning, not a Good Wednesday. A tradition of such age and such breadth deserves the presumption of correctness, not the insinuation of an "axiom". Whoever sets it aside bears the burden of proof, and that burden is heavy. This is the honest strength of the opposing side, and this book does not write it away — it receives its full treatment where it belongs: at the question whether that early unanimity is an independent memory or one voice that multiplied itself (ch. 6).
The answer to that objection is not that the tradition is wrong — that is a matter for later chapters. The answer is more modest, and sharper: however venerable the Friday tradition may be, it is a statement about the day of the week, and that weekday is precisely what is here in dispute. One may not use a contested proposition as a settled point of departure in the very inquiry that is to test it. That is not scepticism for scepticism's sake; it is the first rule of honest weighing. And so long as the weekday is the axiom and not the conclusion, AD 31 is never examined — not because it fails, but because it is never admitted to the weighing.
Excursushow a date becomes consensus without ever being measured
A single remark on the mechanism, for it is instructive and it holds on all sides. In this field a year is seldom recalculated; it is cited. One monograph takes it over from another, with a footnote pointing to a predecessor, which in turn points to a predecessor — and somewhere at the head of the chain stands a calculation that meanwhile no one consults any more. Thus arises a "well-known fact" that was never a fact but a habit. And with that the whole case, on both sides, turns on a handful of texts that must genuinely be measured — not on a consensus that one inherits. Even a leading defender of the Friday concedes how much everything hangs on one text; that concession weighs heaviest in Chapter 13, and there it stands.
Dossierthe oldest exclusion of AD 31, and the half-sentence beneath it
This chapter claims that the Friday is not a measurement but an assumption. That claim can be tested against the oldest source that excludes AD 31, and it is not a twentieth-century monograph but Isaac Newton, in 1733. His exclusion is handed on to this day; André Reis writes in 2025 that "scholars beginning with Isaac Newton have been correct to rule out 31 AD", and quotes him verbatim: the attempt to align that year's Passover with the full moon yields "errors so enormous, that they would be very conspicuous in the heavens [...] to the vulgar eye".
The quotation is accurate. It merely begins halfway through the sentence. Newton writes, in Observations upon the Prophecies, chapter XI:
> *"the Passion cannot fall on friday, without making it three days after the full moon, or four days before it: errors so enormous, that they would be very conspicuous in the heavens to every vulgar eye."*
### ⛔ There it stands, in the oldest hand in the debate: AD 31 falls away because the year yields no Friday close enough to the full moon. The Friday is not the outcome of the calculation; it is the condition under which the calculation is performed. Whoever quotes the second half of the sentence hears an astronomical verdict. Whoever reads the first half with it hears an assumption that does not name itself. Precisely what this chapter claims, three hundred years before this book, by the man who of all people could have known better.
And the equal measure compels me to add three things, for they do not weaken Newton but sharpen him.
First.With the same stroke Newton excludes AD 33 — the year of the present consensus, and the year for which Reis cites him. His conclusion: *"Thus all the characters of the Passion agree to the year 34; and that is the only year to which they all agree."* The oldest authority against this book is just as hard on the consensus, and arrives at a third year that no one defends today.
Second.His choice between 33 and 34 turns on the crop, not on the calendar. He rejects AD 33 because the ripe ears the disciples plucked (Mark 2:23) show that the Passover two years before the Passion fell late: "this ripeness of the corn shews that the Passover then fell late [...] but the Passover A.C. 31, March 28th, fell very early."That is the same test this book names as the decisive one in chapter 8. It is not this book's; it is of 1733.
Third.Newton does not begin the month at the conjunction but at the observation: *"the month began at the new moon before, not at the true conjunction, but at the first appearance of the new moon."* That is the axis appendix D.1 registers as an assumption — and the source brought against AD 31 stands, on that axis, on the side of the looking.
### Newton therefore belongs in this book, and not as a name to be waved away. He belongs in it because he writes down this chapter's axiom himself — and because, when he measures not by the axiom but by the crop, he does exactly what this book proposes. [DOCUMENTED — Newton (1733), Observations upon the Prophecies of Daniel, and the Apocalypse of St. John, part I, chapter XI, read in the normalized transcription of the Newton Project (Oxford); ⚠ the printed 1733 edition itself, p. 164, has not been physically inspected]
Where does the investigation stand, then, at the opening of this book? Not at a proof, and not at an indictment either. It stands at an observation that makes the whole inquiry possible: the date this book defends was never weighed and found wanting — it was never weighed. It lies in the standard literature, unnoticed, because an axiom hides it from view. And that means the question lies open again, provided — and this is the condition — that this book does better than the field did. For if the field left AD 31 out without a measure, this book may not bring it in without one. Whoever reproaches another for judging without a measure must first show his own.
That is the next task: the measure of this book, out loud, before anything is weighed.
HeartHEART
There is a quiet arrogance in assuming that everything has already been examined. And there is a quiet courage in the question: have we actually looked here? This chapter accuses no one of bad faith — it points only to a blind spot, and blind spots are human, not malicious. The date lay all that time in the full light of a standard work, unnoticed, because we all knew where we did not need to look. Sometimes the greatest reverence for the truth is not a new argument, but the willingness to go back to the place where we walked past too quickly.
Note on the sources
Jeremias's table has been verified against the scans of pp. 32 and 35 inspected by the author; the labels ("kaum", "evtl.") and the two-column structure stand there verbatim. The circularity in Humphreys & Waddington was read in the source itself. (The concession in Hoehner, which earlier versions named here as well, does not belong in this chapter: ch. 1 nowhere cites him. It has been read at first hand and is accounted for where it does carry — ch. 9.) Schmidt's elevenfold "30/33" assumption and the absence of "Wednesday" were established in the full text of the monograph. This chapter proves nothing about the day; it shows only that the exclusion of AD 31 is not a measurement but an axiom — and that is an invitation to testing, not a conclusion. This chapter claims a proof for neither side.
Literature (APA)
Hoehner, H. W. (1974). Chronological aspects of the life of Christ, Part IV: The day of Christ's crucifixion. Bibliotheca Sacra, 131(523), 241–264. (pp. 242–243)
Humphreys, C. J., & Waddington, W. G. (1992). The Jewish calendar, a lunar eclipse and the date of Christ's crucifixion. Tyndale Bulletin, 43(2), 331–351. (p. 336)
Jeremias, J. (1960). Die Abendmahlsworte Jesu (3rd ed., pp. 30–35). Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. [English ed.: The Eucharistic words of Jesus, SCM Press, 1966.]
Schmidt, T. C. (2025). Josephus and Jesus: New evidence for the one called Christ (App. 3, pp. 249–254). Oxford University Press.
Let me begin with a confession that puts the whole case on edge. The date this book defends — Wednesday, 25 April of the year 31 — is no discovery of mine. It was not dug up from some hidden corner of the tradition, not reconstructed from a disputed manuscript, not conjured into being by a creative trick of arithmetic. It stands, in black and white, in the standard work of the man who investigated the date of the crucifixion more deeply than anyone in the twentieth century — and who himself defended the Friday.
Joachim Jeremias, in Die Abendmahlsworte Jesu, puts a clear question to the astronomy: did the fourteenth or the fifteenth of Nisan fall on a Friday in any of the years around 30? And he sets the answer in a table. For the year 31 that table gives, in the column he calls "astronomically calculated", a single outcome: 14 Nisan = Wednesday, 25 April (Jeremias, 1960, p. 32). That is the date of this book, in print, in an opponent's work, half a century before I was born. And note what Jeremias places around it — or rather, does not place. Beside the year 30 he flags his own astronomical column with "kaum" — hardly. Beside the year 31 he leaves it unflagged. It stands as the plain reading. The Friday he needs for his own thesis he must enter beneath it with the little word "evtl." — possibly, perhaps.
See what happens there. The defender of the Friday computes for himself, independently, and arrives for AD 31 at a Wednesday as the natural outcome — and at a Friday only as an exception he must plead for. To reach that Friday he needs two things: that the year 31 was an intercalary year, and that a clouded sky held the first lunar crescent back a day, so that Nisan began one day later (Jeremias, 1960, p. 35). Two auxiliary assumptions for the Friday; for the Wednesday he needs only one — the intercalary year. And yet that Wednesday appears on no shortlist of candidate dates. Why not?
That is the question of this chapter, and the answer is disconcertingly simple. AD 31 did not disappear because it was weighed and found wanting. It disappeared because a single axiom excluded it before any weighing. That axiom runs: the crucifixion was on a Friday. And once that axiom stands as a point of departure rather than as a conclusion, a Wednesday is no longer a candidate but a category error — a date that has not been found wrong, but that is never even admitted among the contenders.
Expert"kaum" and "evtl.", the little words that give everything away
Jeremias writes in German, and his two hedge-words are diagnostic. Kaum means "hardly"; it flags an outcome as highly improbable. Evtl. is the abbreviation of eventuell, "possibly, perhaps"; it flags an outcome as a conceivable exception. In his table the astronomical Wednesday of AD 31 receives neither label — it stands there as the plain reading — while the Friday he defends carries the label evtl. His own sentence on p. 33 confirms it: in the years 30, 31 and 34 the fifteenth of Nisan fell "möglicherweise" — possibly — on a Friday. Möglicherweise, not as a matter of fact. The language of the source itself, then, says: Wednesday is the measurement, Friday is the plea.
How does such an axiom work? It works as a filter that makes itself invisible. Take the astronomical literature that is supposed to exclude AD 31. The best-known modern dating, that of Humphreys and Waddington, must decide whether the year 31 had an intercalary month — the month that shifts Nisan into April and yields the Wednesday. They reject that intercalary month. And the reason they give for it stands in their own article: if Nisan fell a month later, "in no year would 14 Nisan fall on a Friday" (Humphreys & Waddington, 1992, p. 336). Read that sentence once more. The intercalary month is rejected because it yields no Friday. But that the crucifixion fell on a Friday is precisely what was to be demonstrated. The conclusion has become the premise, and the circle is closed. They concede, moreover, that there are "no historical records" of which years between 26 and 36 had an intercalary month — so there is nothing to measure; there is only the axiom, deciding.
And once the axiom sits in the foundations, no one needs to say it aloud any more. It is inherited. Take the most recent example known to me: an Oxford monograph of 2025, T. C. Schmidt's Josephus and Jesus. Eleven times Schmidt writes of "the Passover of 30/33", as a self-evident range. Nowhere does he argue for that range. He does not mention AD 31 a single time — not to reject it, but because it is not in view. And the word "Wednesday" does not occur once in all three hundred and thirty-seven pages, not even to dismiss it (Schmidt, 2025). This is no reproach to Schmidt; it is a diagnosis of the discipline. The year of the crucifixion is not measured afresh each time. It is handed down, footnote to footnote, like an heirloom no one appraises any more.
DossierJeremias's table, and the bill for his Friday
Jeremias's astronomically calculated column (column 1), for the years around 30:
The bill for his own Friday. To land AD 31 on a Friday, Jeremias must shift 1 Nisan from the calculated 12 April to 13 April — "infolge von Bewölkung um einen Tag verschoben", shifted by one day owing to cloud cover (1960, p. 35). His calculated 1 Nisan is therefore 12 April — precisely the date that yields the Wednesday. The Friday requires an extra, unprovable auxiliary assumption (a clouded sky on the decisive evening); the Wednesday requires none — for a visible first crescent is the rule, not an assumption, and it is precisely the cloud cover that must be pleaded as the exception. And his own conclusion is, moreover, remarkably honest: "the astronomical chronology unfortunately leads to no certain result"; the only thing astronomy establishes with certainty is that the years 29 and 32 drop out (1960, p. 35). Whoever claims that astronomy excludes AD 31 is contradicting the most thorough investigator of the date of the crucifixion. [CALCULATED · appendix A]
Mark well what is and is not being claimed here, for the honesty of this book stands or falls with it. I do not claim that Jeremias's table proves the Wednesday; Jeremias himself reads that column under the Johannine chronology he rejects, and the figure is his, the construal is not. Nor do I claim that the consensus is stupid or dishonest. I claim something far more limited, and for that very reason harder: that the exclusion of AD 31 is nowhere a measurement. It is an axiom. And an axiom is not a measurement — it is a starting point one chooses, and which one can therefore also test instead of assume.
Countercasethe strongest case for the axiom
Let the defender of the Friday make his best move here, for the axiom is not plucked from thin air. The early church is all but unanimous: the crucifixion fell on the day before the sabbath. The gospels call that day paraskeuê, the day of preparation; the confessions say "died, buried, and raised on the third day"; and the liturgy has kept Good Friday from the very beginning, not a Good Wednesday. A tradition of such age and such breadth deserves the presumption of correctness, not the insinuation of an "axiom". Whoever sets it aside bears the burden of proof, and that burden is heavy. This is the honest strength of the opposing side, and this book does not write it away — it receives its full treatment where it belongs: at the question whether that early unanimity is an independent memory or one voice that multiplied itself (ch. 6).
The answer to that objection is not that the tradition is wrong — that is a matter for later chapters. The answer is more modest, and sharper: however venerable the Friday tradition may be, it is a statement about the day of the week, and that weekday is precisely what is here in dispute. One may not use a contested proposition as a settled point of departure in the very inquiry that is to test it. That is not scepticism for scepticism's sake; it is the first rule of honest weighing. And so long as the weekday is the axiom and not the conclusion, AD 31 is never examined — not because it fails, but because it is never admitted to the weighing.
Excursushow a date becomes consensus without ever being measured
A single remark on the mechanism, for it is instructive and it holds on all sides. In this field a year is seldom recalculated; it is cited. One monograph takes it over from another, with a footnote pointing to a predecessor, which in turn points to a predecessor — and somewhere at the head of the chain stands a calculation that meanwhile no one consults any more. Thus arises a "well-known fact" that was never a fact but a habit. And with that the whole case, on both sides, turns on a handful of texts that must genuinely be measured — not on a consensus that one inherits. Even a leading defender of the Friday concedes how much everything hangs on one text; that concession weighs heaviest in Chapter 13, and there it stands.
Dossierthe oldest exclusion of AD 31, and the half-sentence beneath it
This chapter claims that the Friday is not a measurement but an assumption. That claim can be tested against the oldest source that excludes AD 31, and it is not a twentieth-century monograph but Isaac Newton, in 1733. His exclusion is handed on to this day; André Reis writes in 2025 that "scholars beginning with Isaac Newton have been correct to rule out 31 AD", and quotes him verbatim: the attempt to align that year's Passover with the full moon yields "errors so enormous, that they would be very conspicuous in the heavens [...] to the vulgar eye".
The quotation is accurate. It merely begins halfway through the sentence. Newton writes, in Observations upon the Prophecies, chapter XI:
> *"the Passion cannot fall on friday, without making it three days after the full moon, or four days before it: errors so enormous, that they would be very conspicuous in the heavens to every vulgar eye."*
### ⛔ There it stands, in the oldest hand in the debate: AD 31 falls away because the year yields no Friday close enough to the full moon. The Friday is not the outcome of the calculation; it is the condition under which the calculation is performed. Whoever quotes the second half of the sentence hears an astronomical verdict. Whoever reads the first half with it hears an assumption that does not name itself. Precisely what this chapter claims, three hundred years before this book, by the man who of all people could have known better.
And the equal measure compels me to add three things, for they do not weaken Newton but sharpen him.
First. With the same stroke Newton excludes AD 33 — the year of the present consensus, and the year for which Reis cites him. His conclusion: *"Thus all the characters of the Passion agree to the year 34; and that is the only year to which they all agree."* The oldest authority against this book is just as hard on the consensus, and arrives at a third year that no one defends today.
Second. His choice between 33 and 34 turns on the crop, not on the calendar. He rejects AD 33 because the ripe ears the disciples plucked (Mark 2:23) show that the Passover two years before the Passion fell late: "this ripeness of the corn shews that the Passover then fell late [...] but the Passover A.C. 31, March 28th, fell very early." That is the same test this book names as the decisive one in chapter 8. It is not this book's; it is of 1733.
Third. Newton does not begin the month at the conjunction but at the observation: *"the month began at the new moon before, not at the true conjunction, but at the first appearance of the new moon."* That is the axis appendix D.1 registers as an assumption — and the source brought against AD 31 stands, on that axis, on the side of the looking.
### Newton therefore belongs in this book, and not as a name to be waved away. He belongs in it because he writes down this chapter's axiom himself — and because, when he measures not by the axiom but by the crop, he does exactly what this book proposes. [DOCUMENTED — Newton (1733), Observations upon the Prophecies of Daniel, and the Apocalypse of St. John, part I, chapter XI, read in the normalized transcription of the Newton Project (Oxford); ⚠ the printed 1733 edition itself, p. 164, has not been physically inspected]
Where does the investigation stand, then, at the opening of this book? Not at a proof, and not at an indictment either. It stands at an observation that makes the whole inquiry possible: the date this book defends was never weighed and found wanting — it was never weighed. It lies in the standard literature, unnoticed, because an axiom hides it from view. And that means the question lies open again, provided — and this is the condition — that this book does better than the field did. For if the field left AD 31 out without a measure, this book may not bring it in without one. Whoever reproaches another for judging without a measure must first show his own.
That is the next task: the measure of this book, out loud, before anything is weighed.
HeartHEART
There is a quiet arrogance in assuming that everything has already been examined. And there is a quiet courage in the question: have we actually looked here? This chapter accuses no one of bad faith — it points only to a blind spot, and blind spots are human, not malicious. The date lay all that time in the full light of a standard work, unnoticed, because we all knew where we did not need to look. Sometimes the greatest reverence for the truth is not a new argument, but the willingness to go back to the place where we walked past too quickly.
Note on the sources
Jeremias's table has been verified against the scans of pp. 32 and 35 inspected by the author; the labels ("kaum", "evtl.") and the two-column structure stand there verbatim. The circularity in Humphreys & Waddington was read in the source itself. (The concession in Hoehner, which earlier versions named here as well, does not belong in this chapter: ch. 1 nowhere cites him. It has been read at first hand and is accounted for where it does carry — ch. 9.) Schmidt's elevenfold "30/33" assumption and the absence of "Wednesday" were established in the full text of the monograph. This chapter proves nothing about the day; it shows only that the exclusion of AD 31 is not a measurement but an axiom — and that is an invitation to testing, not a conclusion. This chapter claims a proof for neither side.
Literature (APA)
Hoehner, H. W. (1974). Chronological aspects of the life of Christ, Part IV: The day of Christ's crucifixion. Bibliotheca Sacra, 131(523), 241–264. (pp. 242–243)
Humphreys, C. J., & Waddington, W. G. (1992). The Jewish calendar, a lunar eclipse and the date of Christ's crucifixion. Tyndale Bulletin, 43(2), 331–351. (p. 336)
Jeremias, J. (1960). Die Abendmahlsworte Jesu (3rd ed., pp. 30–35). Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. [English ed.: The Eucharistic words of Jesus, SCM Press, 1966.]
Schmidt, T. C. (2025). Josephus and Jesus: New evidence for the one called Christ (App. 3, pp. 249–254). Oxford University Press.