Anti-Judaism and Typological Exegesis in Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on the Gospel of John

Abstract

The biblical commentaries of Cyril of Alexandria (c. 376–444) represent a major contribution to the development of patristic exegesis. His Commentary on the Gospel of John demonstrates the close interaction between Christological theology, allegorical interpretation, and ecclesial polemic within late antique biblical interpretation. While Cyril’s exegesis has often been praised for its theological sophistication, modern scholarship increasingly recognizes that his interpretive framework also contains a pronounced anti-Judaic dimension. This study examines several key passages from Cyril’s Commentary on the Gospel of John in order to analyse how typology, supersessionist theology, and polemical rhetoric function together in his interpretation. Particular attention is given to Cyril’s portrayal of Jewish ignorance, his attribution of responsibility for the death of Christ, and his typological reinterpretation of Jewish law and history. The analysis demonstrates that Cyril integrates anti-Jewish rhetoric into a broader theological system in which the Mosaic law is presented as a provisional anticipation fulfilled in Christ and realized in the Christian Church.

1. Introduction

The biblical commentaries of Cyril of Alexandria (c. 376–444 CE) occupy a central place in the history of patristic exegesis. Among these works, the Commentary on the Gospel of John is particularly significant, as it demonstrates how theological reflection, scriptural interpretation, and ecclesial polemic intersect within the context of late antique Christianity.

This is a verse by verse-by-verse commentary consisting of twelve books, of which Books VII and VIII (Jn 10:18–21:48) are lost. The surviving text of the commentary is preserved in PG 73 and 74, 9–756. Many scholars maintain that this commentary dates from the period prior to the Nestorian controversy, namely, between 425–428 (see Jouasarrd 1945, 1962).

As one of the most influential theologians of the fifth century, Cyril consistently interprets the Johannine narrative as the revelation of the incarnate Logos, integrating within this framework the entirety of the scriptural witness concerning Jesus Christ as the Son of God (see Young 1997, pp. 39–45; McKinion 2000; Weinandy and Keating 2003; Pazzini 1997). While Cyril’s exegesis is often praised for its Christological sophistication, modern scholarship increasingly recognizes that his interpretive framework also contains a pronounced anti-Judaic dimension. The portrayal of “the Jews” in Cyril’s commentary reflects patterns common in patristic literature.

Throughout the commentary, Cyril repeatedly accuses “the Jews” of refusing to acknowledge the divinity of Jesus, a theme that recurs with striking frequency. This persistent characterization is widely regarded as one of the most problematic aspects of the work. It reflects not only literary polemic against “the Jews,” but also tensions within the complex social and religious environment of late antique Alexandria in which Cyril lived. “In terms of the clash with Judaism, the implacable opposition between the two religions was the result of two large political and corporate bodies of a mixed population in Alexandria, who by race and religion would not be assimilated to each other. The opposition was focused by religion but flowed out in all other areas of life, and was an indication of the great power that both religious systems could hold over their respective peoples” (McGuckin 1994, p. 9). In such a context, biblical interpretation functioned not merely as a form of theological reflection but also as a means of articulating communal identity and ecclesiastical authority (Haas 1997). Cyril’s exegesis therefore participates in a broader patristic discourse that simultaneously affirms continuity with the Scriptures of Israel while asserting the theological primacy of the Christian Church (Wilken 1973, pp. 9–38; Wilken 1983). “Under such titles as Adversus Judaeos and Altercatio cum Judaeo, the early church fathers produced many harsh polemical writings against the Jewish people. The frequency and intensity of this phenomenon are accompanied by the strange contradiction of its presence in Christian literature” (McDonald 1993, p. 215; Stroumsa 1996). A critical reading of Cyril’s commentary must therefore acknowledge both its theological sophistication and its polemical implications.

This study employs a qualitative, text-centered methodological informed by historical-critical analysis and patristic exegesis. Its primary source, Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on the Gospel of John, is subjected to sustained close reading in order to delineate its dominant themes, interpretative strategies, and rhetorical structures. Particular scrutiny is directed toward the text’s use of typology, its articulation of supersessionist claims, and its recurrent reliance on polemical language, most notably in its construction and representation of “the Jews.”

The methodological approach integrates both descriptive and analytical procedures. In the first instance, a systematic survey of the text is conducted in order to catalogue salient terms, expressions, and passages pertinent to the study. This process entails the identification and classification of references to “the Jews,” alongside related terminology associated with Jewish identity, institutions, and practices. Subsequently, the assembled textual data are analysed within their literary and theological context, thereby facilitating a critical examination of the manner in which Cyril constructs his exegetical arguments and incorporates polemical elements into his broader theological framework.

The study additionally positions Cyril’s commentary within its historical and intellectual milieu, drawing upon pertinent secondary scholarship to critically illuminate the social, religious, and ecclesiastical dynamics of late antique Alexandria. This contextualization is crucial for a sophisticated understanding of the text’s anti-Judaic rhetoric, which operates not solely as a theological assertion but as a strategic component of broader process of identity formation and the management of interreligious relations.

By combining close reading, thematic classification, and contextual analysis, this methodological approach enables a nuanced evaluation of both the theological sophistication and the polemical dimensions of Cyril’s exegesis, thereby contributing to a more comprehensive understanding of patristic biblical interpretation. In this study, we will use Maxwell’s English translation of Cyril’s Commentary (Cyril of Alexandria 2015), while references to this work will be given by volume and page number.

2. References to “The Jews” in Cyril’s Commentary on the Gospel of John

References to “the Jews” are pervasive throughout Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on the Gospel of John. A systematic survey of the text reveals no fewer than 271 explicit occurrences of the expression “the Jews,”1 together with ten additional references to “a Jew.”2 These figures alone demonstrate that the category of “the Jews” occupies a central place in Cyril’s interpretation of the Johannine narrative. Far from being incidental, the term functions as an important rhetorical and theological marker within the commentary. However, Cyril’s references extend far beyond this basic designation. He employs a wide variety of related expressions that refer to the Jewish people collectively, to their leaders and institutions, and even to what he perceives as characteristic Jewish attitudes or patterns of thought. When examined together, these expressions reveal a coherent rhetorical strategy through which Cyril interprets the role of “the Jews” within the Gospel narrative and situates them within his broader theological argument.

For analytical purposes, these references may be grouped into several categories: collective designations for the Jewish people, references to Jewish leadership and institutions, terminology describing Jewish identity and customs, and rhetorical expressions that attribute particular qualities or dispositions to “the Jews.”

Cyril’s repeated use of “the Jews” is not a mere narrative convenience but a structuring device within his Johannine interpretation. The sheer frequency of the term, together with its conceptual expansion through related expressions, shows that “the Jews” function as a theological category as much as a narrative group. While this allows Cyril to construct a coherent reading of conflict in the Gospel, it also risks flattening the complexity of Johannine characterization into a single, overdetermined collective identity. The category becomes increasingly fixed, leaving little room for internal diversity or narrative ambiguity. This tendency raises important critical questions about how Cyril’s theological aims shape, and at times constrain, his exegetical reading of the Gospel text.

3. Collective Designations for the Jewish People

Cyril frequently employs a range of collective formulations that emphasize the communal identity of the Jewish people, in addition to the standard expression “the Jews.” Among these are phrases such as “the Jewish people,”3 “the people of the Jews,”4 and “the multitude of the Jews.” 5 Other expressions include “the race of the Jews,” 6 “a native Jew” or “one who is from the Jews,”7 “the rest of the Jews;”8 “the Jewish multitude of the Jews,”9 “the ancestors of the Jews,”10 “the fathers of the Jews,”11 and the “elders of the Jews.”12

These expressions suggest that Cyril consistently views “the Jews” not simply as individuals appearing within the narrative but as a collective historical community. The language of “race,” “people,” and “multitude” highlights a corporate identity that transcends the immediate narrative setting of the Gospel. In other words, Cyril’s commentary often treats “the Jews” of the Johannine narrative as representatives of a broader historical and theological entity. Such collective language contributes to the rhetorical effect of the commentary. By presenting “the Jews” as a unified group, Cyril reinforces the idea that their responses to Jesus in the Gospel reflect a deeper and more enduring disposition toward Christ and his revelation. However, this hermeneutical strategy risks attenuating the internal diversity and tensions present within the narrative. The result is a shift from descriptive exegesis toward a more generalized theological judgment, a movement that merits careful critical scrutiny in any assessment of Cyril’s interpretive practice.

4. Jewish Leadership and Authority

Cyril also frequently refers to leaders within the Jewish community, thereby highlighting structures of authority within Judaism. Expressions such as “the leaders of the Jews/Jewish people,”13 “the rulers of the Jews/Jewish people,”14 or “the officers of the Jews,”15 appear regularly in the commentary. Similarly, Cyril speaks of “the teachers of the Jew,” “teachers of the Jewish law,”16 or “the Jewish ranks.”17 These references are significant because they shift the focus from the general population to those who exercise religious or political influence.

In Cyril’s interpretation, Jewish leaders often function as the primary opponents of Jesus and as instigators of hostility toward him. This focus corresponds closely with the Gospel of John itself, where conflicts between Jesus and various Jewish authorities form a recurring theme (see Westermann 1998, p. 1008). Cyril amplifies this aspect of the narrative by repeatedly highlighting the role of leaders, rulers, and teachers within the Jewish community. The result is a heightened polemical reading in which authority becomes almost synonymous with opposition. This interpretive emphasis therefore requires scrutiny, as it risks transforming a narrative tension into a fixed theological opposition embedded within Jewish institutional identity.

5. References to Jewish Institutions and Practices

Another important dimension of Cyril’s terminology concerns Jewish religious institutions and practices. Throughout the commentary he refers to elements such as “the Jewish temple,”18 “the synagogue of the Jews,”19 “the assembly of the Jews,”20 “the Passover of the Jews.”21 He also mentions “Jewish worship,”22 “the Jewish law,”23 “the purifications and Jewish washings,”24 “the legal observance of the Jews”25 and “the defiled denarii of the Jews.”26

Such references situate the Gospel narrative within the concrete religious life of Judaism. They also allow Cyril to contrast what he perceives as the old religious order represented by Judaism with the new reality inaugurated by Christ. In this sense, his references to Jewish institutions frequently serve a theological function, reinforcing the idea that the structures of the Jewish religious system belong to an earlier stage in salvation history.

6. Jewish Identity, Customs, and Ways of Thinking

Cyril’s commentary contains numerous references to what he characterises as Jewish customs, practices, and way of thinking. Among the expressions he employs are “Judaism,”27 “Jewish customs,”28 “a Jewish way,”29 “the understanding of the Jews,”30 “a Jewish mindset,”31 “their Jewish assumptions,”32 “the Jewish doctrine,”33 “a Jewish fashion,”34 “a Jewish manner,”35 “Jewish learning,”36 and “the dogma of the Jews.”37 He also employs expressions related to the Jewish people and their land, including, “the one nation of the Jews,”38 “the land of the Jews,”39 “the country of the Jews,”40 “the territory of the Jews,”41 and “the neighbour of the Jews.”42 He speaks of Jerusalem as “the mother of the Jews.”43

These expressions move beyond simple descriptions of institutions or communities. In many cases, such terminology is used to interpret misunderstandings or objections voiced by Jewish interlocutors in the Gospel narrative. As a result, references to Jewish ways of thinking often function as explanatory devices through which he interprets the resistance to Jesus found in the Gospel. This raises a significant critical concern: Cyril’s explanatory framework may inadvertently transform narrative tension into a generalized account of Jewish cognition that sits uneasily with the textual plurality of the Gospel itself.

7. The Interchangeable Use of “The Jews” and “Israel”

Another notable feature of Cyril’s language concerns his treatment of the terms “the Jews” and “Israel.” In the Gospel of John, a distinction emerges between these expressions. While “the Jews” frequently denotes opponents of Jesus within the narrative, the term “Israel” occasionally carries more positive covenantal associations.44 Cyril, however, does not consistently maintain this distinction. In his commentary, he employs “Israel”45 approximately eighty-three times and “the Israelites”46 roughly thirty-two times, often in contexts that overlap with references to “the Jews.” Consequently, the two terms become largely interchangeable within his exegetical framework.

Cyril also employs a variety of related expressions, including “the people of Israel,”47 “the race of Israel,”48 “men of Israel,”49 “those of Israel,”50 “house of Israel,”51 “the children of Israel,”52 “the sons of Israel,”53 “the whole assembly of Israel,”54 “the twelve tribes of Israel,”55 “Israel’s flesh,”56 “the beloved Israel,” 57 “the firstborn Israel,”58 and “the elect of remnant of Israel,”59 amounting a total of twenty-one usages. Most of these references, as in the case of his use of “the Jews,” are employed in a critical or negative context.

This conflation carries significant theological implications. By identifying “the Jews” of the Gospel narrative with the broader concept of Israel, Cyril effectively extends the polemical trust of the Johannine narrative to encompass the historical people of Israel as a whole. In doing so, his commentary exemplifies a broader pattern within patristic exegesis, thereby the rejection of Christ by certain figures in the Gospel narrative is interpreted as representative of Israel’s collective response.

While this move supports his wider theological commitment to reading Scripture as a unified salvation history, it also intensifies the scope of the Gospel’s polemical language. The effect is to universalize narrative conflict in ways that can obscure textual nuance and internal differentiation. This interpretive choice therefore stands as a key site where Cyril’s theological synthesis both clarifies and potentially distorts the Johannine text, making sustained critical reflection essential.

8. The Emergence of a Negative Rhetorical Framework

While many of the expressions discussed above might initially appear descriptive or neutral, their rhetoric significance becomes apparent when considered within the broader context of Cyril’s commentary. In the majority of instances, references to “the Jews” occur in passages emphasising their misunderstanding of Jesus, their resistance to his teaching, or their hostility toward his mission. Over time, even ostensibly neutral phrases acquire a distinctly negative valence, contributing to the construction of a coherent interpretive framework in which the Jewish interlocutors in the Gospel narrative function as archetypal representatives of disbelief.

Cyril frequently employs anatomical or cognitive metaphors to underscore this rhetorical critique. He refers to “the eyes of the Jews,”60 “the mouth of the Jews,”61 “those arrogant people even with mere words,”62 “the hands of the Jews,”63 “the will of the Jews,”64 “the good will of the Jew,”65 and “the mind of the Jews.”66 As the commentary progresses, Cyril’s language becomes increasingly explicit in its critique. He deploys expressions such as “the most uninformed mind of the Jews,”67 “the senseless mind of the Jews,”68 “the untutored knowledge of the Jews,”69 and “the unlearned conjectures of the Jews.”70 Similarly, he refers to “the hard heart of the Jews,”71 and “the fickle ear of the Jews,”72 emphasizing both moral and intellectual deficiencies ascribed to the group.

By repeatedly associating the Jewish characters with misunderstanding, obstinacy, and misjudgement, Cyril constructs a sustained polemical framework in which these figures operate as paradigmatic examples of disbelief, highlighting both the necessity of divine guidance and the consequences of human obstinacy.

While such imagery intensifies the dramatic force of Cyril’s exegesis, it also narrows the interpretive horizon by mapping epistemic and moral deficiency onto a collective identity.

At this point in the commentary, the critical issue is not simply Cyril’s emphasis on conflict, which is present in John, but the degree to which that conflict becomes systematised into a comprehensive explanatory framework. The Gospel’s varied encounters are thereby drawn into a single rhetorical pattern in which divine truth and human resistance are consistently polarised, leaving little space for ambiguity, development, or intra-textual complexity.

9. Sentiments, Intentions, and Actions Attributed to “The Jews”

Cyril’s commentary extends beyond physical and cognitive metaphors to encompass a range of sentiments, intentions, and actions attributed to “the Jews.” His language frequently emphasizes their moral and volitional dispositions, framing them in ways that highlight resistance, presumption, or misjudgement. Among the expressions he employs are: “the verdict of Jewish presumption.”73 He also refers to linguistic and argumentative activity, including “the Jewish word,”74 “the words of the Jews,”75 “the Jewish arguments,”76 “the intention of the Jews,”77 and “the norm of the Jews.”78 Cyril further emphasizes planned or purposeful action through phrases such as “the work of the Jewish might,”79 “the plan of the Jews,”80 and “the supposition of the Jews.”81

Expressions of social or communal action, or expressions reflecting affective states, include “the request of the Jews,”82 “the joy of the Jews,”83 “the intent of the Jews,”84 “the disposition of the Jews”85 or “a Jewish disposed,”86 and “the statement of the Jews.”87 He additionally highlights interpretive or evaluative attitudes with references to “the assumptions of the Jews,”88 “the vain murmuring of the Jews,”89 and “the secret whisperings of the Jews.”90

Collectively, these expressions serve to construct a rhetorical portrayal of “the Jews” as an active, intentional, yet often misguided collective, whose words, plans, and sentiments are depicted as oriented toward misunderstanding, presumption, or opposition to divine truth. By cataloguing both intellectual and volitional attributes, Cyril reinforces a consistent interpretive pattern in which the Jewish interlocutors function as exemplars of resistance to divine revelation, providing a sustained polemical and theological framework within his commentary.

This is not merely descriptive but structurally interpretive: it frames Jewish action in the Gospel as coherently directed, even when that coherence is defined negatively. The result is a commentary in which disagreement with Christ is repeatedly read through the lens of presumptive agency, where speech, desire, and action are aligned within a single evaluative trajectory. Critically, this raises questions about how far Cyril’s theological aims shape his reading of Johannine plurality. What emerges, therefore, is not only a rhetorical framework but a hermeneutical one—one that prioritises coherence of theological meaning at the potential expense of textual nuance and narrative differentiation.

10. Polemical Language and the Denunciation of Jewish Institutions

Cyril’s commentary demonstrates a persistent and uncompromising critique not only of the Jewish people but also of the institutions, symbols, and historical figures associated with Judaism. His language is often severe and polemical, reflecting a rhetorical strategy that seeks to underscore both the perceived culpability and moral failings of the Jewish nation. For instance, he refers to Jerusalem as “spurning Jerusalem, the ungrateful mother of the Jews,”91 emphasizing the city’s rejection of divine revelation. Similarly, he castigates Arius by invoking “the Jewish impiety of Arius”92 and, in commenting on John 8:44, he twice stresses that Jesus “assigns no other father to the Jews than Satan.”93 In a particularly striking example, he identifies Cain, the murderer of Abel, as “the father of the Jews (I mean Cain),”94 thus linking the Jewish people to the archetype of fratricidal sin. Cyril’s polemical language extends to Israel itself, which he frequently qualifies with harsh adjectives that convey moral and spiritual deficiency. He speaks of “the utterly lawless Israel,”95 “stubborn Israel,”96 while he also speaks of “the apostasy of Israel”97 and “Israel’s refusal.”98

This rhetorical pattern is further intensified by the repeated use of epithets preceding the term “the Jews,” which serve to reinforce a negative characterization. He describes them as “stiff-necked Jewish people,”99 “the ungodly Jews,”100 “the daring Jews,”101 “the imprudent Jews,”102 “the arrogant Jews,”103 “the unspiritual Jews,”104 and “the violent and boastful people of the Jews,”105 and “those miserable people.”106 Such litany of negative descriptors functions not only to stigmatize but also to construct a consistent rhetorical framework in which the Jewish interlocutors are depicted as emblematic of disbelief, moral obstinacy, and spiritual blindness.

Through repeated negative epithets and theological associations, “the Jews” are consistently framed as morally and spiritually deficient, with this judgement reinforced across multiple contexts rather than arising from isolated comments. While this intensifies Cyril’s theological reading of John, it also expands polemic beyond the immediate narrative and turns interpretive disagreement into a fixed moral category.

11. Tongue, Heart, and Mind of “The Jews”

Throughout his commentary, Cyril employs increasingly severe and polemical language in reference to “the Jews,” particularly focusing on their faculties of speech, cognition, and moral disposition. This linguistic strategy emphasizes both intellectual and moral failings, creating a sustained rhetorical framework in which the Jewish interlocutors are consistently portrayed as obstinate, misguided, and morally culpable.

With regard to speech and verbal expression, Cyril repeatedly castigates “the Jews” for their misuse of language, employing stark and condemnatory adjectives. He refers to “the abominable tongue of the Jews”107 “and the Jews’ verbal abuse.”108 Such language underscores not only the content of Jewish speech but also its perceived ethical and theological deficiencies.

Similarly, Cyril emphasizes the moral disposition of “the Jews” through vivid imagery related to the heart. He speaks of “the uninstructed heart of the Jews,”109 “the hard and unbending heart of the Jews”110 or “the hardness of the Jews,”111 “the stubbornness of the Jews,”112 as well as “the stubborn people of the Jews,”113 and even “the stubborn Jew”114 or “their infinite stubbornness,”115 suggesting an almost absolute incapacity for receptivity to revelation.

Cyril’s critique of the intellect of “the Jews” is particularly sustained and explicit. He repeatedly denounces their reasoning and judgment, employing terms such as “the mind of the Jews,”116 “the accusing imagination of the Jews,”117 “the silly opinion of the Jews,”118 “Jewish senselessness,”119 or “the senselessness of the Jews,”120 and at times directly addressing them as “O senseless Jews.”121 He even intensifies the condemnation with expressions like “the utter senselessness of the Jews,”122 “Jewish insanity,”123 “the Jews’ lack of instruction,”124 “the Jews’ lack of understanding,”125 or “their utter stupidity,”126 “the unintelligent and faithless Jews,”127 and “the unintelligent mind of the Jews.”128 The terms “the foolishness of the Jews”129 and simply “the foolish Jews”130 reinforces the impression of intellectual and spiritual deficiency. He further comments on their collective incapacity for discernment, observing that “understanding of the Jews [which] was darkened.”131

The systematic application of such terminology reveals Cyril’s exegetical strategy: to interpret the Jewish rejection of Christ not merely as historical opposition but as representative of a broader human resistance to divine truth. While this reinforces Cyril’s theological aim of explaining unbelief as a deep-rooted condition rather than a situational response, it also compresses diverse narrative encounters into a fixed framework of deficiency. The result is a reading in which Johannine complexity is reduced to a stable and totalising account of intellectual, emotional, and moral failure.

12. Ignorance, Madness, and Unholiness of “The Jews”

Among the expressions most frequently employed by Cyril to characterize “the Jews,” three stand out as central motifs: ignorance, madness, and unholiness. Each of these terms recurs throughout the commentary, often in multiple variations, and together they form a coherent rhetorical strategy that underscores both intellectual and moral deficiencies ascribed to the Jewish people.

Cyril’s preferred expression, “the ignorance of the Jews,”132 appears approximately seventeen times, accompanied by variants such as “the Jews are ignorant,”133 “Jewish ignorance,”134 “the ignorant people of the Jews,”135 “the ignorant Jews,”136 “by Jewish ignorance,”137 “the ignorance and straying people of the Jews.”138 At times, Cyril even elevates ignorance to a defining characteristic, calling it “the characteristic of the Jews,”139 or portraying it metaphorically as “the foster brother of the Jews.”140

Twin to the motif of ignorance is the recurring reference to “the madness of the Jews,”141 employed some nineteen times, including variants such as “their own madness,”142 “the madness of the Israelites,”143 “the Jews whose minds were completely full of madness,”144 “the magnitude of the Jews’ madness,”145 “the attack of the Jews’ madness,”146 and even of “the madness of the murders.”147 Linked to this intellectual disorder are expressions highlighting defective reasoning or zeal, such as “the zeal of the Jews [which] is not enlightened”148 and “the miserable reasoning of the Jews.”149

The third central motif is “the unholy Jews,”150 which Cyril invokes some twenty-two times, with variations including “the unholiness of the Jews,”151 “their [the Jewish] unholy mind,”152 “the unholy schemes of the Jews,”153 “the unholy leaders of the Jews.”154 “the ridicule and the unholy Jews”155 and “the intolerable invective of the unholy Jews.”156

These three motifs, ignorance, madness, and unholiness, frequently serve as the basis for broader theological assessments. Because of the ignorance, madness, and unholiness of “the Jews,” Cyril speaks of “the sin of the Jews,”157 which he equates with “the unbelief for the Jews,”158 describing them as “the unbelieving people of the Jews,”159 “the disobedient Jews,”160 or “the disobedience of the Jews,”161 sometimes intensified as “the immeasurable disobedience of the Jews.”162 The systematic emphasis on ignorance, madness, and unholiness serves not only to characterize the Jewish interlocutors negatively but also to heighten the contrast with Christ and his followers, reinforcing the rhetorical and theological aims of the commentary. While this strengthens Cyril’s theological reading of unbelief as rooted in deep-seated disorder, it also reduces the diversity of Johannine encounters to a single explanatory pattern. As a result, narrative disagreement is consistently recast as inherent deficiency, limiting the space for more nuanced or situational interpretations of conflict in the Gospel.

13. Anger, Malice, and Audacity of “The Jews”

In his commentary, Cyril attributes to “the Jews” a wide range of intense negative sentiments, particularly emphasizing anger, malice, and audacity. These expressions are not merely descriptive but function rhetorically to underscore the perceived moral, intellectual, and spiritual failings of the Jewish people within the Johannine narrative.

Cyril frequently depicts “the Jews” as consumed by anger, employing terms such as “the rage of the Jews,”163 “the bitter reproof of the Jews,”164 “the sheer wrath of the Jews,”165 “the burning anger of the Jews,”166 the raging of the Jews”167 and “the anger of the Jews.”168 Linked to these sentiments are broader expressions of moral and social disorder. Cyril speaks of “the impiety of the Jews,”169 “the rashness of the Jews,”170 “the pure babbling of the Jews,”171 “the wild and motley multitude of the Jews,”172 “the scorn of the Jews”173 and “the laments of the Jews.”174 He further intensifies his critique through terms such as “the villainy of the Jews,”175 the recklessness of the Jews,”176 “the frenzy of the Jews”177 and “the useless of the Jews.”178 Additional condemnations include “the pleasures of the Jews,”179 “the buffeting of the Jews,”180 “the levity of the Jews,”181 “the unending envy of the Jews”182 and “the irreverent people of the Jews.”183

In line with these indictments, Cyril repeatedly employs the epithet “the wretched Jews,”184 appearing some eleven times, with variations such as “these wretched people,”185 “these wretched people are blind,”186 “the wretched Jews are hard-hearted”187 and “the wretchedness of Jewish reasoning.”188

Cyril also emphasizes malice, inhumanity, audacity, and arrogance as defining characteristics. He refers to “the malice of the Jews,”189 “the inhumanity of the Jews,” and repeatedly to “the audacious Jews,”190 with variants such as “the audacious people of the Jews,”191 “the audacity of the other Jews,”192 “the audacious deed of the Jews,”193 the “audacity of the Jews’ madness,”194 “the ferocity of the Jews’ audacious attacks”195 and “so wicked and audacious.”196

The recurring motif of godlessness is similarly stressed, with terms such as “the godlessness of the Jews,”197 “the Jews’ godlessness and their furious rage”198 and “the Jewish arrogance,”199 appearing multiple times in slightly varied forms, such as “the arrogant Jew,”200 and “the servant of Jewish arrogance,”201 highlighting both spiritual alienation and social insolence.

Finally, Cyril underscores the psychological and social consequences of Jewish opposition to Christ. He cites, on four occasions, the expression “for fear of the Jews,”202 reflecting how the threat of Jewish opposition shaped the actions of those confessing Jesus as Messiah, and linking the moral and intellectual deficiencies he ascribes to them with tangible effects within the Gospel narrative.

Taken together, these expressions reveal a consistent rhetorical and theological strategy: Cyril depicts “the Jews” as morally, cognitively, and spiritually impaired, reinforcing their role as emblematic opponents of divine truth. His repeated emphasis on anger, malice, audacity, and wretchedness not only serves to criticize specific historical actors but also constructs a broader interpretive framework in which the Jewish rejection of Christ symbolizes a universal human resistance to divine revelation (see Beck 1994; Kysar 1992, 1993). Overall, Cyril’s language forms a stable interpretive framework in which “the Jews” are depicted as morally and spiritually deficient, and their rejection of Christ is presented as part of a wider pattern of human resistance to divine truth.

14. Anti-Jewish Rhetoric in Cyril’s Interpretation of the Passion Narrative

The remainder of the harsh language that Cyril of Alexandria directs toward “the Jews” in his commentary on the Gospel of John is closely connected with his interpretation of the passion and death of Jesus. Within these passages the polemical tone of Cyril’s discourse reaches its climax, as he attributes to “the Jews” deliberate malice and a determined intention to bring about the death of Christ. In describing their alleged actions and intentions, Cyril employs a wide range of highly charged expressions. Among these he refers to “the Jews’ conjecture,”203 “the Jews’ final act,”204 “the evil designs of the Jews,”205 “the murderous intent of the Jews,”206 “the plot of the Jews,”207 “the malicious plan of the Jews,”208 “the evil disposition of the Jews,”209 “the snare of the Jews”210 and “the malice of the Jews is unbearable.”211

As a result of this interpretative framework, Cyril also attributes to “the Jews” a variety of morally reprehensible attitudes and actions. He therefore refers to “the Jews’ irreverence and cruelty,”212 “the danger from the Jews,”213 “the brutality of the Jews”214 or “the extreme brutality of the Jews’ pretence”215 and “the hatred of the Jews.”216 Similar language appears in references to “the violence of the Jews,”217 “the condemnation of the Jews,”218 “the outburst of the Jews,”219 “the Jews’ enmity towards God”220 and “the insults of the Jews.”221

These repeated descriptions ultimately converge in Cyril’s explicit judgment that “the Jews” are “all alike murderers and utterly unjust judges.”222 In connection with this accusation, he introduces further striking expressions such as “the bloodstained band of the Jews,”223 “the bloodthirstiness of the Jews,”224 and “the Jews who killed the Lord.”225 He also refers to “the cruelty of the Jews,”226 and to “the opposition of the Jews,”227 or even “the senseless opposition of the Jews.”228

Within this same context, and in light of the accusation that “the Jews” were responsible for the death of Jesus, Cyril repeatedly refers to the Johannine title given to Christ during the passion narrative, namely “the King of the Jews.”229 For Cyril, the title functions not merely as a historical designation but as a theological affirmation: the one whom “the Jews” reject and condemn is in fact the true king and the divinely appointed Messiah. In this way, the narrative of the passion becomes, in Cyril’s exegesis, both a demonstration of Christ’s sovereignty and a further indictment of those whom he regards as responsible for his death.

This section shows that Cyril’s interpretation of the Passion reaches its most intensified polemical form, where “the Jews” are consistently represented as acting with deliberate intent, coordinated planning, and sustained hostility toward Christ. The repeated use of expressions such as “plot,” “murderous intent,” and “malicious plan” does not simply describe isolated actions within the narrative, but instead constructs a coherent explanatory system in which the death of Jesus is framed as the outcome of unified collective agency. In this way, narrative complexity is absorbed into a single interpretive logic of intention and execution.

This logic is reinforced by an expanding vocabulary of violence and moral depravity, including references to brutality, hatred, enmity, and bloodshed. These descriptors accumulate to produce a strongly unified moral portrait in which “the Jews” are not only participants in the Passion narrative but are positioned as its primary causal agents. The effect is to transform a range of narrative tensions into a stable structure of culpability, where difference in role or motivation is largely flattened into a singular category of opposition.

At its most explicit point, Cyril’s commentary crystallises this trajectory in categorical judgments of collective guilt, presenting “the Jews” as uniformly responsible for the death of Christ. While this serves his broader theological aim of affirming Christ’s sovereignty and the salvific necessity of the Passion, it also significantly narrows the interpretive field of the Gospel account. The Passion is thereby read less as a multi-layered narrative of political, religious, and theological confrontation, and more as a direct confrontation between divine truth and a single, unified group defined by opposition.

Within this framework, even the Johannine title “the King of the Jews” is reinterpreted in a strongly contrastive and polemical register. It functions not only as a Christological affirmation of Jesus’ identity, but also as a rhetorical counterpoint that heightens the perceived blindness and culpability of those who reject him. The result is a reading of the Passion in which Christ’s kingship and the condemnation of “the Jews” are mutually reinforcing theological claims, tightly interwoven in a way that leaves limited space for narrative ambiguity or differentiated responsibility among the characters involved.

15. Typology and the Transformation of the Mosaic Law

A central element of Cyril’s hermeneutic is his typological understanding of the Mosaic law. For him, the institutions of Israel were never intended to represent the final form of divine revelation; rather, they functioned as symbolic anticipations of the truth revealed in Christ. This interpretive logic appears clearly in Cyril’s discussion of John 1:13, where he addresses the question of Israel’s relationship to divine sonship. Responding to the objection that Israel too was called God’s children, Cyril argues that the law granted Israel only a preliminary participation in divine realities: “The law has a shadow of the good things to come, not the image itself of the realities” (vol. 1, p. 61).

From this premise Cyril concludes that Israel’s privileges must be understood typologically rather than literally. According to him, “everything that we have, they had in type” (vol. 1, p. 61). Israel’s experience of covenantal sonship was therefore anticipatory, whereas the Christian community receives the reality itself through the Spirit of Christ. He reinforces this contrast by invoking Pauline language: the Israelites possessed the “spirit of slavery to fear,” whereas believers in Christ receive “the Spirit of sonship … in whom we cry, ‘Abba, Father’” (vol. 1, p. 61).

The same interpretive structure appears in Cyril’s commentary on John 4:36–37, where Jesus speaks of the reaper gathering fruit for eternal life. Cyril interprets this imagery as symbolizing the transition from the Mosaic law to the gospel. The proclamation of the law and the prophets, he argues, has now reached its completion in Christ: “The law, by its worship in types, foreshadowed the one who was coming, that is, Christ” (vol. 1, p. 132). Within this interpretation, the work of Christ consists in transferring people from the sphere of the law into the life of the gospel. The Logos “will reap from their legal worship those who are still slaves to the law and who devote themselves only to the letter and it will transfer them like sheaves into the evangelical way of life and disposition” (vol. 1, p. 133).

This contrast between letter and spirit reflects a familiar Pauline theme, yet Cyril intensifies its polemical implications. Those who remain within the framework of the law are portrayed as spiritually limited, unable to perceive the deeper truth that the law anticipated. The gospel therefore appears not merely as a continuation of the law but as its transformative fulfilment.

Cyril’s interpretation of John 2:11, the miracle at Cana, provides a particularly striking example of supersessionist allegory. The narrative setting becomes a symbolic representation of the transition from Judaism to Christianity. Cyril draws attention to the fact that the miracle takes place in Galilee rather than Jerusalem and interprets this detail as significant: “The gathering is not in Jerusalem … (but) outside Jerusalem, as if in the country of the Gentiles” (vol. 1, p. 91). From this observation he concludes that the “synagogue of the Jews rejected the bridegroom from heaven, and the church of the Gentiles received him with great joy” (vol. 1, p. 91). The miracle therefore becomes an allegory of salvation history: the synagogue rejects Christ, while the Gentile church welcomes him.

The symbolism of the wine reinforces this argument. The failure of the wine at the feast represents the insufficiency of the Mosaic law: “The wine failed the feasters, for the law perfected nothing; the Mosaic letter did not suffice for perfect gladness.” By contrast, the wine produced by Christ represents the life-giving power of the gospel, since “the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (vol. 1, p. 91). The law thus becomes a preliminary stage whose limitations reveal the necessity of Christ’s revelation.

Cyril’s Passion interpretation presents “the Jews” as a unified and deliberate agent responsible for Christ’s death, using repeated language of plotting, intent, and violence to frame the event as the outcome of coordinated hostility. While this reinforces Cyril’s theological emphasis on Christ’s sovereignty, it also narrows the Gospel’s interpretive range by flattening differences in role and motivation into one category of opposition.

16. Polemical Rhetoric and the Characterization of “The Jews”

While typology provides the structural basis for Cyril’s interpretation, his commentary also contains passages of explicit polemic. In several places he characterizes “the Jews” collectively as spiritually blind, obstinate, or irrational for failing to recognize Christ. Commenting on John 15:18, he claims that “the Jews” “served only the letter of Moses,” cherished their ignorance, and refused to abandon “the disease they grew up with” (vol. 2, p. 236). Such rhetoric portrays Jewish resistance to Christianity not merely as theological disagreement but as a moral and intellectual failure.

Cyril reads the historical events described in the Gospel not merely as episodes in the life of Jesus but as symbolic representations of the broader history of salvation and of the relationship between Christ and the Jewish people. The departure of Jesus from Jerusalem after the Jewish festival of unleavened bread, associated with the slaughter of the paschal lamb, is interpreted as prefiguring Christ’s withdrawal from the Jewish people following his crucifixion in Jerusalem (see vol. 1, p. 137). At the same time, Cyril’s exegesis introduces an eschatological dimension that complicates a simple narrative of rejection. While the departure from Jerusalem symbolizes the temporary withdrawal of divine favour from Israel after its opposition to Christ, Cyril suggests that this separation is not ultimately permanent. By interpreting Christ’s return to Jerusalem after the weeks of Pentecost “shows, in types and enigmas, that our Saviour will once again return to the Jews, because of his loving kindness, in the last times of the present age” (vol. 1, p. 137).

The typological interpretation of the paralytic in John 5, further illustrates this dynamic. Cyril associates the man’s prolonged illness with the spiritual condition of Israel after its rejection of Christ, describing the Jewish people as “sick and paralyzed” (vol. 1, p. 137) and enduring a long period of inactivity or stagnation. The symbolic reference to the thirty-eight years, just short of the full number forty, which he understands as “the full number of the law” (vol. 1, p. 137), allows Cyril to argue that Israel’s condition is incomplete and provisional rather than final. Just as the paralytic is eventually healed by Christ, so too Israel is expected to be restored through “obedience and faith” (vol. 1, p. 137). Nevertheless, the rhetorical force of this typology remains strongly polemical: the Jewish people are depicted as having “irreverently raged” (vol. 1, p. 137) against Christ and consequently entering a period of spiritual paralysis.

Cyril’s typological method extends beyond ritual practices to encompass the historical experiences of Israel. Events in Jewish history are frequently reinterpreted as allegories of the Church’s relationship to Christ. A striking example appears in his commentary on John 18:10, where Peter cuts off the ear of the high priest’s servant. Cyril interprets this action symbolically: Peter “cuts off the right ear … indicating that the Jewish people were bereft of right hearing” (vol. 2, p. 317). The incident thus becomes a figure for the inability of “the Jews” to hear Christ’s teaching. By contrasting the “right ear” with the “left,” Cyril suggests that the Jewish community has chosen error over truth.

Cyril’s language displays a strongly negative rhetorical framing in his interpretation of John 6:1. His interpretation of “the distance across the sea” (vol. 1, p. 179) as symbolizing the “difficulty, or rather impassability” of the access of “the Jews” to Christ demonstrates his reliance on allegorical and typological exegesis. The physical barrier in the narrative becomes a spiritual barrier imposed by God. By citing prophetic language about God “hedging up the way,” (vol. 1, p. 179) Cyril constructs an argument that the separation between Christ and the Jews is not accidental but divinely ordained. This interpretive move has significant theological implications. The sea is said to separate “the holy from the unholy” (vol. 1, p. 179), effectively identifying Christ and his followers with holiness while designating the Jewish community as spiritually impure. In this framework, exclusion from Christ is interpreted as the result of divine judgment rather than historical contingency.

The passage further intensifies its polemical force through typological interpretation of the Exodus narrative. By invoking the destruction of the Egyptians in the sea while “only Israel was saved” (vol. 1, p. 179), Cyril initially draws on a central narrative of Jewish salvation history. However, he subsequently reverses the typology. Through the imagined voice of Moses condemning a “wicked and adulterous generation” (vol. 1, p. 179), “the Jews” are reconfigured as analogous to the enemies of God rather than the recipients of divine deliverance.

Cyril concludes with an explicit statement of divine punishment directed at “the Jews.” The punishment described is not merely physical but spiritual: they suffer “a punishment of the soul” (vol. 1, p. 179). This emphasis on spiritual penalty reflects the theological logic underlying much Christian anti-Jewish discourse in late antiquity. Jewish rejection of Christ is interpreted as a moral failure deserving divine retribution, and continued Jewish existence outside the Christian Church is explained as a consequence of this punishment.

Cyril’s discussion of the manna narrative and its relation to John 6 is also structured around a strongly typological hermeneutic, in which events and institutions of the Hebrew Bible function as anticipatory figures fulfilled in Christ. Within this framework, the manna given in the wilderness becomes a “type” that prefigures the true bread from heaven, identified with Christ and the gospel. The Jewish understanding of the manna as a miraculous gift in its own right is dismissed by Cyril as a misunderstanding of Scripture’s deeper meaning. His claim that “the Jews” cling to events that occurred “in type” rather than perceiving “the beauty of the truth” (vol. 1, p. 205) establishes the fundamental interpretive hierarchy that governs the passage: Christianity possesses the true, spiritual meaning of the text, while Jewish interpretation remains bound to a literal and incomplete level of understanding.

For Cyril, the law and its associated institutions were never ends in themselves but temporary and symbolic realities intended to foreshadow Christ. When he describes the manna, the quails, and the Sabbath in typological terms, he constructs a salvation-historical progression in which the Mosaic law reaches its fulfilment and termination in the coming of Christ. The “morning” that follows the desert narrative becomes an allegory for the revelation of Christ (vol. 1, p. 208), while the manna itself represents the gospel teaching that now nourishes believers. Within this scheme the law is not rejected entirely, but it is reduced to a preparatory stage whose meaning becomes intelligible only retrospectively through Christian revelation. Consequently, adherence to the law after the advent of Christ appears to Cyril not as faithfulness to divine command but as a failure to recognize the completion of God’s plan.

The rhetorical dimension of the passage reveals a more explicit polemical stance toward “the Jews.” Cyril repeatedly characterizes Jewish interpretation with language that suggests intellectual and spiritual deficiency. “The Jews” are described as possessing “no small ignorance” (vol. 1, p. 204) as refusing to seek the truth behind scriptural types, and ultimately as being “senseless beyond measure” (vol. 1, p. 209).

Such language is not merely descriptive but serves an argumentative function: it delegitimizes Jewish claims to authoritative interpretation of their own Scriptures while simultaneously reinforcing the Christian claim to possess the correct, spiritually enlightened reading. The notion that the synagogue remains under a “veil” or “hardening” (vol. 1, p. 208) echoes the interpretive tradition derived from the writings of Paul the Apostle, particularly passages in Romans and 2 Corinthians that speak of Israel’s partial blindness to the gospel.

An important aspect of Cyril’s argument is the allegorical reinterpretation of Jewish ritual practice. When he refers to sacrifices, purifications, and “Jewish washings” as forms of piety that are “low to the ground” (vol. 1, p. 208), he implies that Jewish religion remains bound to material and external observances rather than attaining the spiritual reality revealed in Christ. By framing Judaism as fundamentally concerned with earthly and provisional practices, Cyril can present Christianity as the higher and more universal form of religion that transcends the limitations of the law. The imagery of manna that must not be kept until morning reinforces this argument: the continued observance of the law after Christ’s appearance is depicted symbolically as food that decays into “rottenness and worms,” a vivid metaphor suggesting the obsolescence of the old covenant.

Cyril interprets the descent of the true manna not as a blessing remaining within the synagogue but as a gift scattered “around the camp” (vol. 1, p. 208), that is, among the nations. By invoking the prophetic statement that “more are the children of the desolate than of her who has a husband” (vol. 1, p. 208), he presents the expansion of Christianity among the Gentiles which becomes the true heir of the promises once associated with Israel, while the synagogue remains characterized by misunderstanding and unbelief.

Cyril’s discussion on circumcision on the eighth day, as part of his comment on John 7:23 forms another theological anti-Judaism argument that is closely tied to his typological reading of Scripture and his broader supersessionist framework. Cyril begins by interpreting circumcision on the eighth day as a symbolic anticipation of the resurrection of Christ. In this typological framework, the “eighth day” signifies the new creation inaugurated by the resurrection. “Circumcision was on the eighth day because of the resurrection of Christ, and not before the eighth day. The gift of the Spirit, after all, is not before the resurrection but after it, or at the same time as the resurrection, when he breathed on his disciples and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’” (vol. 1, p. 283).

Cyril goes further by explicitly associating Jewish circumcision with bondage and punishment. He states that circumcision performed with an “iron knife” was appropriate “for the Jews,” because they were “still slaves and subject to the law, the punisher” (vol. 1, p. 283). The symbolism he assigns to iron, namely punishment and coercion, serves to depict the Jewish relationship to the law as fundamentally servile and disciplinary rather than life-giving. Cyril reinforces this contrast by presenting Christian “circumcision in the Spirit” as a superior form of purification that “drives out all defilement” (vol. 1, p. 283) and leads to perfection in godliness.

The appeal to Abraham and Isaac further strengthens this argument through allegorical interpretation. Cyril contrasts Isaac, the “free son of the free woman” (vol. 1, p. 284) with those who remain under the law, drawing on imagery derived from Pauline allegory. The “Jerusalem above” becomes the symbol of the Christian community, which receives the “eighth day” through the resurrection and thus experiences true liberation from sin and death. By contrast, the Jewish community is implicitly associated with the older order characterized by servitude and legal obligation. This interpretive move effectively relocates the identity of the true heirs of Abraham away from the historical Jewish people and toward the Christian church.

Cyril’s theological argumentation that reinforces negative portrayals of Judaism continues in his comment on John 8:30, where he imagines Christ addressing those who have begun to believe in him and urging them to detach themselves from “the types of Moses” and the “shadows of the law” (vol. 1, p. 352). The imagery suggests that the practices associated with the Mosaic law lack substantive spiritual power once the reality they prefigured, namely, Christ and the gospel, has appeared. The exhortation to “abandon your resolve that the power of salvation is in any way in those shadows” (vol. 1, p. 352) directly challenges the legitimacy of Jewish claims that covenantal fidelity through the law remains salvifically meaningful.

The passage also illustrates how the identity of the true heirs of scriptural revelation is transferred from the Jewish community to the Christian Church. By insisting that those who believe in Christ are recognizing the one proclaimed “from the beginning through the law and the prophets” (vol. 1, p. 352), Cyril effectively claims the Jewish Scriptures as fundamentally Christian texts whose proper interpretation belongs to the Church. In this interpretive move, the authority of the Hebrew Bible is preserved, but its meaning is redefined in ways that exclude Jewish interpretive traditions. The law becomes meaningful only insofar as it points beyond itself to Christ.

Cyril’s anti-Judaic rhetoric embedded within theological exegesis is also expressed in his comment on John 14:24. Here, the Alexandrian Patriarch frames Jewish engagement with the Mosaic law as a form of “ignorance” and “supposition,” emphasizing a contrast between the provisional and typological character of the law and the fullness of truth revealed in Christ. The law, for Cyril, is limited to “types and outlines” (vol. 2, p. 196) that cannot perfect a person; it merely anticipates the ethical and spiritual formation that Christ achieves directly. By describing the law as incapable of achieving perfection and portraying Christ’s teaching as “nakedly” (vol. 2, p. 196) revealing truth, Cyril rhetorically positions Judaism as inherently subordinate to Christianity. The statement that “this upset the Jews” (vol. 2, p. 196) reinforces a negative characterization: their attachment to the law renders them incapable of perceiving its intended fulfilment.

A similar argument is repeated in Cyril’s comment on John 15:18 in which he constructs a stark contrast between the disciples of Christ, who embrace the truth of the gospel, and the Jewish community, which he depicts as rigidly attached to the law while fundamentally blind to its ultimate fulfillment in Christ. By stating that “the Jews served only the letter of Moses and put their own interpretation on what was done in type” (vol. 2, p. 236), Cyril reduces Jewish religious practice to a literalistic and self-serving adherence to ritual, implying both a misreading of Scripture and an incapacity to perceive spiritual truth. Cyril emphasizes the attachment of “the Jews” to ignorance, describing it as “most precious” and depicts them as hesitant to abandon “the disease they grew up with” (vol. 2, p. 236). Such language is rhetorically charged: it portrays Jewish religious identity not merely as mistaken but as spiritually corrupt and self-destructive.

In Cyril’s comment on John 19:30, he reads the crucifixion of Christ and the culmination of the law through an allegorical and typological lens. He contrasts the “outer courtyard” and “inner tent,” representing the Mosaic law and the fuller revelation of the Gospel, respectively. The law is described as holy and righteous, yet incomplete; only through Christ and the anointing of the Spirit does one reach the “Holy of Holies,” that is, full sanctification. Cyril interprets the law as a “porch and vestibule” (vol. 2, p. 351) to the Gospel, placing the Jewish people in the outer courtyard. This metaphor implies that “the Jews” were spiritually limited, unable to fully access God’s truth, reinforcing a narrative in which their adherence to the Mosaic law is partial and preparatory rather than definitive.

In his comment on John 21:1–6, Cyril continues his allegorical and typological exegesis, portraying Israel’s relationship to the Mosaic law as spiritually insufficient prior to Christ’s revelation. He frames Israel as “caught, as it were, by Moses” yet still “on a par with those who had not been caught at all” (vol. 2, p. 381), suggesting that adherence to the law without recognition of Christ is effectively meaningless. Cyril explicitly describes Israel as “unbelieving and stubborn,” and contrasts them with the Gentiles, who were “still uncaught” (vol. 2, p. 381). Although both groups are spiritually limited before Christ, “the Jews’” failure is depicted as willful and culpable, because they “trampled on the law” (vol. 2, p. 381).

The allegory of fishing, with nets cast to the right (Christ) and left (Moses), underscores a hierarchy in which Christ’s instruction and the Spirit’s grace surpass the law in authority, glory, and efficacy. Moses is said to have cast the net of instruction through the law, but “on the left side,” whereas Christ’s command to cast the net on the “right side” of the boat becomes a metaphor for spiritual truth. The instruction of Christ “surely surpasses the types, the master surely surpasses the servant, and the justifying grace of the Spirit surpasses the letter that condemns” (vol. 2, p. 381).

Building on this framework, Cyril reads the narrative tensions of the Gospel of John, where Jesus repeatedly debates with “the Jews,” as evidence of a deeper theological divide (see Cunningham et al. 2011; Bieringer et al. 2001; Dunn 2006). While the Gospel itself contains passages that portray conflict between Jesus and Jewish interlocutors, Cyril intensifies the polemical dimension of these scenes. The narrative disputes become, in his interpretation, a salvation-historical paradigm in which adherence to the law without recognition of Christ represents spiritual incompleteness. In this way, the Gospel’s already critical portrayal of “the Jews” is extended and made more explicit in Cyril’s commentary, transforming the Johannine narrative into a broader theological argument about the transition from the law to its fulfilment in Christ.

As a result, Jewish practice is consistently interpreted as provisional, literal, or spiritually deficient, while Christian revelation is presented as the full meaning of Scripture. Although Cyril occasionally introduces eschatological nuances, the dominant structure remains supersessionist: Jewish interpretive traditions are largely displaced in favour of Christian readings that claim exclusive access to scriptural truth. This turns the Johannine conflicts into a broader salvation-historical narrative in which Judaism is positioned as surpassed by Christianity, intensifying the Gospel’s tensions into a systematic theological opposition.

17. Cyril of Alexandria’s Accusation of “The Jews” as the Murderers of Christ

In his Commentary on the Gospel of John, Cyril of Alexandria advances a sustained and highly polemical interpretation of the Johannine narrative in which “the Jews” are presented as the primary agents responsible for the death of Jesus Christ. While the Gospel of John itself contains sharp disputes between Jesus and certain Jewish interlocutors (see Ashton 1994, pp. 36–70; Thatcher 2010, pp. 13–38; Casalegno 2010, pp. 99–121), Cyril intensifies these tensions and frames them within a theological argument that portrays the Jewish people collectively as morally and spiritually responsible for Christ’s death.

In his commentary on John 8:37, where Jesus acknowledges that his interlocutors are descendants of Abraham, Cyril uses this statement as an opportunity to challenge what he presents as the Jewish reliance on physical descent from the patriarchs as a guarantee of divine favor. He argues that “the Jews” mistakenly believed that their biological relationship to Abraham ensured their continued status as God’s people. By invoking the idea that “not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel” (vol. 1, p. 359), Cyril attempts to undermine this claim and to redefine true membership in the people of God in moral and spiritual terms rather than genealogical ones.

Within this framework he makes the striking claim that “the Jews then are all alike murderers and utterly unjust judges, since they decree that he is worthy of death who has done nothing wrong” (vol. 1, p. 359). The force of this accusation lies not only in its severity but also in its generalization. Rather than limiting responsibility to specific figures within the Gospel narrative, such as particular priests or authorities, Cyril extends the charge to “the Jews” as a collective entity (see Motyer 1997; Pedersen 1999).

The logic underlying this argument becomes clearer in Cyril’s interpretation of John 8:44, where Jesus tells his opponents that their father is the devil. Cyril is careful to clarify that this statement should not be taken literally, yet his explanation nonetheless constructs a theological genealogy that reinforces the accusation. According to Cyril, Christ assigns the Jews a “father” in the sense of one whose character and behaviour they imitate. He therefore links them to Cain, who murdered his brother Abel, and ultimately to Satan, whom he describes as the original rebel against God. “Let us wrap them in the likeness of the wickedness of Cain and show that they tried to do the same thing to Christ as Cain did to Abel, so that he may now justly and properly be called their father” (vol. 2, p. 4).

In this scheme Satan becomes the first instigator of rebellion, Cain its first human perpetrator, and “the Jews” the latest heirs of the same murderous disposition. Cyril explicitly develops the comparison by arguing that just as Cain deceived Abel before killing him, “the Jews” deceived Christ through the betrayal of Judas Iscariot, who approached him with a kiss. This typological reading allows Cyril to reinterpret the Passion narrative as a repetition of the primordial murder recorded in Genesis. However, the argument relies on a selective and polemical use of biblical typology. The identification of “the Jews” with Cain is not derived directly from the Gospel text but imposed upon it as part of a broader rhetorical strategy aimed at portraying Jewish hostility to Christ as the continuation of humanity’s earliest act of violence against the righteous.

Cyril’s interpretation becomes even more explicit in his treatment of the Passion narrative in John 18–19. Throughout these passages he repeatedly attributes the initiative for Christ’s death to “the Jews,” particularly to their leaders. According to his account, the Jewish authorities are responsible for nearly every stage of the process: they bribe the traitor, organize the arrest, bring Jesus before the Roman governor, and incite the crowd to demand his execution. Cyril portrays the rulers as manipulating the people and stirring them into “monstrous fury” (vol. 2, p. 335), thereby transforming what might otherwise appear as a complex judicial process into a deliberate conspiracy driven by envy and malice.

In this narrative Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor who formally authorizes the crucifixion, appears primarily as a weak and reluctant figure. Cyril emphasizes that Pilate repeatedly declares Jesus innocent but is ultimately “dragged down to the will of the murderers” (vol. 2, p. 340). This interpretation allows Cyril to maintain that the real responsibility for the crucifixion lies with “the Jews,” even while acknowledging that Pilate shares some blame for failing to prevent the injustice.

This interpretation culminates in Cyril’s commentary on John 19:13–16, where he states that the evangelist “ascribes all the blame for murdering Christ to the Jews” (vol. 2, p. 340). Such a claim, however, represents a significant interpretive leap beyond the narrative itself. Although the Gospel does depict pressure from certain Jewish leaders, the execution of Jesus is historically and narratively a Roman act carried out under Roman authority. By minimizing this context and concentrating blame almost exclusively on “the Jews,” Cyril effectively reshapes the narrative to serve a theological argument about Jewish rejection of Christ.

When commenting on John 19:30, where Jesus declares “It is finished,” Cyril interprets the statement as referring to the completion of “the measure of the Jews’ godlessness and their furious rage” (vol. 2, p. 350). The crucifixion thus becomes the culmination of a long pattern of hostility toward God. Similarly, in his discussion of John 19:31 he emphasizes what he sees as Jewish hypocrisy: those who show concern for observing the Sabbath are the same people who have just executed the Lord of the Sabbath. According to Cyril, this contradiction reveals the emptiness of Jewish devotion to the law. Yet such claims rely heavily on rhetorical exaggeration. “Look, look! Though they kill Christ, they show great reverence for the sabbath. Though they insult the lawgiver with unthinkable audacity, they make a show of their reverence for the law. Those who destroyed the Lord of the solemn day pretend to honour the great solemnity of that sabbath” (vol. 2, p. 353).

Cyril’s commentary presents a powerful but deeply problematic interpretation of the Johannine Passion narrative (see Koen 1991). A critical reading of Cyril’s argument must therefore recognize the extent to which his interpretation reflects the polemical context of late antique Christian theology. By the fifth century, when Cyril was writing, Christianity had become closely aligned with imperial authority, and theological disputes with Judaism often served to reinforce Christian claims to religious legitimacy. In this environment, Cyril’s commentary on John functioned not only as an explanation of Scripture but also as a means of defining the boundaries between the Christian community and its religious rivals. Cyril’s insistence that “the Jews” were the “prime movers” (vol. 2, p. 342) of Christ’s death reflects this broader dynamic. His exegesis does not merely describe the events narrated in the Gospel but transforms them into evidence of a fundamental and enduring opposition between Judaism and Christianity.

At the same time, Cyril’s interpretation demonstrates how the language of the Gospel of John could be expanded and radicalized in later Christian thought (see Fisher 1977). The Gospel’s references to “the Jews” are complex and often refer specifically to certain authorities or opponents within the narrative context (see Marcheselli 2016). Cyril, however, treats the term as a comprehensive designation for the Jewish people as a whole. This shift from narrative category to collective identity enables him to construct the sweeping accusation that “the Jews” are the murderers of Christ. The result is a theological reading that intensifies the polemical elements of the Gospel while obscuring the historical and literary nuances of the text (see Boys 2011; Crossan 1995).

Rather than limiting blame to identifiable groups within the Johannine Passion narrative such as specific priests, officials, or crowd dynamics, Cyril repeatedly expands agency outward until it is absorbed into a single collective subject. This shift allows the Passion to be read not as a sequence of contingent political and judicial events, but as the expression of a unified disposition of hostility toward Christ.

A key mechanism in this construction is typological amplification. By linking “the Jews” to Cain, to the devil, and to the archetype of primordial violence, Cyril embeds the Passion within a transhistorical pattern of rebellion against God. This interpretive move strengthens theological coherence by presenting Christ’s death as the climax of a long moral and spiritual genealogy of opposition. However, it also functions rhetorically to stabilise a predetermined meaning of the narrative, where later biblical and mythic figures are used to retrospectively define the identity and intention of actors within the Gospel itself.

This explanatory framework is further reinforced by Cyril’s treatment of Roman authority. Although Pilate is formally responsible for the crucifixion in the narrative, Cyril consistently portrays him as hesitant, externally pressured, and ultimately subordinated to Jewish instigation. The effect is not merely to mitigate Roman responsibility but to structurally recentre causality elsewhere, ensuring that the Passion is interpreted primarily through the category of Jewish agency. In this way, juridical and historical complexity is subordinated to a theological logic of causation that privileges a single explanatory subject.

At the narrative level, Cyril’s reading selectively foregrounds scenes of accusation, manipulation, and hostility while diminishing or reinterpreting elements that might complicate this trajectory. Even moments of procedural ambiguity in the Gospel are recast as evidence of coordinated intent. This produces a reading in which the Passion is not simply narrated but reorganised into a coherent moral drama with a clearly identified collective antagonist.

From a critical standpoint, the significance of this interpretive approach lies in its transformation of a narrative category into a totalising identity. The Johannine expression “the Jews,” which operates in a context-sensitive and often variable way within the Gospel, is recast by Cyril as a comprehensive designation for an entire people. This enables the construction of a unified theological accusation but also entails a substantial reduction in narrative plurality and historical specificity. Ultimately, Cyril’s commentary demonstrates how exegetical method, typological reasoning, and polemical theology converge to produce a highly integrated interpretive system. Within this system, the Passion is not only an account of Christ’s suffering but also a structured argument about collective guilt, in which theological meaning is secured through the consolidation rather than the differentiation of narrative agents.

18. Cyril and the Alexandrian Christian Tradition

As part of the Alexandrian tradition of biblical interpretation, Cyril of Alexandria’s commentary on John continues the school’s characteristic emphasis on allegorical and theological exegesis of Scripture. The Alexandrian Christian tradition developed in continuous interaction with the Jewish intellectual world of Alexandria. From Philo through Clement, Origen, Didymus the Blind to Athanasius, and finally Cyril of Alexandria, one finds a characteristic style of biblical interpretation marked by allegory, typology, spiritual exegesis, and a concern to defend the transcendence and unity of God (Behr 2001; Louth 2007). Yet the relationship between Alexandrian Christianity and Alexandrian Judaism evolved dramatically across these centuries (Simonetti 2001).

Clement, for example, represents an earlier and more dialogical phase of Alexandrian Christianity. Strongly influenced by Hellenistic philosophy. Clement frequently portrays Christianity as the true philosophy that fulfills both Greek wisdom and the Mosaic tradition (Osborn 2005). Although Clement regards Christianity as superior to Judaism and believes the Mosaic law finds completion in Christ, his tone toward Judaism is generally less hostile than that of Cyril. Jewish Scripture remains a revered source of divine revelation, and Clement often draws positively upon Jewish philosophical traditions, especially those associated with Philo (Runia 1986). For Clement, the principal distinction lies not between ethnic groups but between levels of spiritual knowledge. Jews may remain attached to preliminary forms of revelation, but they are not ordinarily presented as a permanently rejected people. This reflects the relatively fluid intellectual culture of second-century Alexandria, where Jewish and Christian thinkers still shared substantial philosophical vocabulary and exegetical techniques (Collins 2000).

Origen deepens Clement’s allegorical method while simultaneously universalizing Israel’s meaning (de Lubac 2007). The true Jew becomes the spiritual believer; circumcision becomes inward purification; the temple becomes the soul. This approach allows Origen to criticize Judaism while also partially dissolving ethnic distinctions into universal spiritual categories (Fürst 2021; Wilken 1984). Even when Origen speaks negatively of Jewish unbelief, he frequently interprets biblical polemics within a broader anthropology of spiritual blindness affecting all humanity (Origen 2010, Contra Celsum IV–V; Heine 2010). In many passages, “the Jews” function less as concrete social opponents than as symbols of attachment to the letter rather than the spirit (Origen 1981; McGuckin 2022). This does not eliminate anti-Jewish tendencies in Origen, but it moderates them by embedding them within a universal theory of spiritual ascent (Daniélou 1955; Martens 2012).

When compared with the Commentary on John of Origen, both continuity and divergence become evident. Origen shares many of the same theological assumptions that later appear in Cyril. He also interprets the law typologically, views Christ as the fulfillment of Scripture, and distinguishes between literal and spiritual interpretation. In Origen’s thought, attachment to the literal sense of Scripture represents spiritual immaturity, while true understanding belongs to those capable of perceiving the deeper spiritual meaning concealed beneath the text. Consequently, Origen too can speak of Jewish blindness and failure to recognize Christ.

In Origen, the conflicts between Jesus and “the Jews” often become universal symbols of the soul’s resistance to divine truth. Jewish figures are frequently interpreted allegorically as representations of lower spiritual understanding applicable to all humanity, not exclusively to historical Jews. Cyril, by contrast, historicizes and collectivizes the polemic. “The Jews” are repeatedly treated not simply as symbolic figures but as a theological community defined by unbelief and opposition to Christ. The difference reflects not only personality and method but also historical context. Origen wrote in the third century within a comparatively intellectual environment in which Christianity had not yet become politically dominant. Cyril, writing in fifth-century Alexandria amid intense ecclesiastical and social conflict, reflects a far more aggressive Christian triumphalism.

Didymus the Blind preserves much of Origen’s exegetical method while showing signs of the increasing institutional consolidation of Christianity after Constantine His commentaries continue the Alexandrian emphasis on allegory and spiritual interpretation, yet the distinction between synagogue and Church becomes sharper (Layton 2004). Didymus often interprets Israel typologically as prefiguring the Church, and he increasingly assumes that Christian interpretation has definitively superseded Jewish understanding (Crouzel 1989). Nevertheless, his rhetoric generally remains less socially aggressive than Cyril’s (Young 1997, pp. 77–83). The primary focus is still doctrinal and spiritual rather than civic or political.

With Athanasius one sees a significant transition. Theological conflict becomes more intensely connected to ecclesiastical authority and communal identity. Although Athanasius’ principal opponents are Arians rather than Jews, his rhetoric increasingly frames orthodoxy in exclusive terms. The Church alone possesses the fullness of truth, while opponents are associated with blindness and rebellion (Brakke 1998).

This broader rhetorical environment prepared the way for Cyril’s sharper anti-Jewish polemic. Under conditions in which Christianity had become socially dominant, theological disagreement could more easily be transformed into political exclusion. Cyril inherits the entire Alexandrian exegetical tradition, including its allegorical and typological methods, but he deploys them within a sharply defined theological and pastoral context.

Yet the social meaning of these theological claims changes significantly over time. In Clement and Origen, criticism of Judaism is often integrated into a universal spiritual anthropology and remains partly moderated by shared intellectual culture. In Didymus and Athanasius, ecclesiastical consolidation sharpens distinctions between orthodoxy and its rivals. In Cyril, these tendencies culminate in an openly triumphalist and supersessionist vision in which Judaism is portrayed as historically obsolete and spiritually blind. In contrast to the more fluid intellectual boundaries of Clement’s era, Cyril operates in a period marked by intensified Christological controversy, the consolidation of episcopal authority, and clearer distinctions between orthodoxy and heterodoxy.

As a result, Cyril’s engagement with both Scripture and Judaism reflects a transformed context. While he continues to affirm the unity of the Old and New Testaments and employs typological interpretation extensively, his reading is more directly governed by doctrinal polemics and ecclesial self-definition. Jewish interpretation of Scripture is no longer treated as a parallel but incomplete philosophical tradition, as it often is in Clement, but is more frequently positioned in opposition to Christian claims about Christ as the definitive fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets.

Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on John stands at the culmination of the Alexandrian exegetical tradition. It inherits many methods and assumptions from Origen and earlier Alexandrian theologians, while also reflecting the harsher social and political realities of fifth-century Alexandria, where Christians, Jews, pagans, and imperial authorities struggled for dominance (Rouge 1990). A comparison of Cyril with Origen and other Alexandrian commentators reveals both continuity and rupture: continuity in exegetical method and theological structure; increasing polemical intensity toward “the Jews” in Johannine interpretation; a shift from philosophical engagement with Judaism to ecclesiastical supersessionism; and the transformation of anti-Jewish rhetoric from primarily theological argument into social and political exclusion.

Thus, Cyril does in many ways represent the mature form of Alexandrian Christian attitudes toward Alexandrian Judaism, though he also transforms the earlier Alexandrian inheritance into something more institutionally and politically aggressive.

The study therefore illustrates not only the development of patristic exegesis but also the evolution of Christian anti-Judaism within the interpretation of John’s Gospel. Johannine dualisms such as light and darkness, spirit and flesh, above and below, become frameworks through which Judaism and Christianity are contrasted. Yet Cyril radicalizes this opposition by transforming “the Jews” into a collective symbol of unbelief and by identifying the Church as the sole legitimate heir of Israel’s Scriptures and promises. Through allegory and typology, Judaism is rendered a shadow whose meaning survives only insofar as it points toward Christ and the Christian Church.

Cyril’s writings, however, cannot be separated from the concrete social tensions of fifth-century Alexandria. The city contained large and influential Jewish communities with long historical roots extending back to the Ptolemaic era. Alexandria had for centuries been one of the major centers of Jewish intellectual life, producing figures such as Philo and the Septuagint tradition itself.

By Cyril’s time, however, relations between Christians and Jews had become deeply antagonistic. Ecclesiastical competition, urban unrest, imperial politics, and disputes over civic authority intensified communal hostility. Cyril’s episcopate is associated with the expulsion of Jews from Alexandria following violent conflicts between Christian and Jewish groups.

His Commentary on John reflects this environment. The Gospel’s repeated references to “the Jews” become an interpretive framework through which contemporary conflict is understood. Johannine dualisms are mapped onto present realities: synagogue versus Church, blindness versus illumination, old covenant versus fulfillment (McGuckin 1994).

In this sense, Cyril does represent a distinctly Alexandrian Christian attitude toward Alexandrian Jews, but specifically the late antique form of that attitude after Christianity had achieved institutional dominance. Earlier Alexandrian theologians such as Clement and Origen inherited many anti-Jewish theological assumptions, especially supersessionism and the claim that Christ fulfills the law. Yet they operated within a more intellectual and philosophical framework in which Judaism still functioned as a respected antecedent tradition.

Cyril inherits the same theological structures but deploys them within a radically altered political context. The result is a more rigid opposition between Christianity and Judaism and a more collective condemnation of Jews as a religious community.

Cyril therefore both continues and intensifies the Alexandrian tradition. He preserves its exegetical methods while transforming them into instruments of ecclesiastical identity and communal exclusion. His Commentary on John reveals how Johannine theology could become a vehicle not only for Christological reflection but also for defining Christian relations with Jews in late antique Alexandria.

19. Conclusions

From a modern perspective, Cyril’s portrayal of “the Jews” raises significant historical and ethical concerns. His commentary employs sweeping generalizations that attribute collective guilt to an entire people. The repeated depiction of “the Jews” as ignorant, irrational, and murderous contributes to a long tradition of Christian anti-Jewish rhetoric (see Becker and Reed 2003; Synan 1967).

Cyril constructs a powerful narrative in which the ignorance of “the Jews” explains their rejection of Christ while simultaneously condemning them as responsible for his death. Through a combination of scriptural exegesis, typological interpretation, and polemical rhetoric, he portrays “the Jews” as spiritually blind and morally culpable. The tension between ignorance and guilt lies at the heart of Cyril’s argument. “The Jews” fail to recognize Christ because of their blindness, yet this blindness itself becomes evidence of their guilt. Their attempt to destroy Christ ultimately fulfils the divine plan of salvation, but it also confirms their exclusion from the community that truly understands the scriptures.

A critical examination of Cyril’s commentary therefore reveals both the theological sophistication and the polemical intensity of patristic exegesis (see Flannery 1985). His work stands as a significant example of how early Christian interpretation of the Fourth Gospel contributed to the development of enduring narratives about Jewish ignorance and responsibility for the death of Christ. Nevertheless, it is important to recognize that such interpretations had enduring consequences. By depicting “the Jews” primarily in negative terms, Cyril reinforces a binary worldview in which recognition of Christ correlates with spiritual enlightenment and rejection equates to culpable blindness. This binary, while rhetorically effective for asserting Christian truth claims, risks transforming theological disagreement into a vehicle for social condemnation that influenced Christian attitudes toward Judaism for centuries. In the words of Lee Martin McDonald, “What at times may appear in the church fathers to be a reference to race—that is, Jews being condemned as a people or nation because of their race—is most often a reference to their religious identity rather than to their ethnic origins. … however, a ‘religious’ anti-Judaism could be just as hostile and dangerous to the Jews as a bias based on race” (McDonald 1993, p. 215).

The Gospel of John itself contains passages that portray Jewish leaders as hostile to Jesus (e.g., Jn 8:44, 19:14–15). Yet Cyril’s interpretation abstracts these conflicts from their historical context, using them as evidence for perpetual Jewish culpability. This approach raises methodological concerns: it conflates exegesis with polemic and projects anachronistic social tensions onto the biblical text. While his insights into the Logos and Christological themes remain influential, his treatment of the Jewish people reflects both historical contingencies and enduring theological biases, which contributed to the long-standing marginalization of Jewish communities within Christian discourse.

This brief examination of anti-Judaism in the tradition of Cyril of Alexandria’s interpretation of John’s Gospel inevitably leaves the modern reader with a sense of unease. It is impossible to ignore that strands of Christian interpretation and preaching, including those found among influential patristic figures, became entangled with attitudes that later contributed, directly or indirectly, to hostility, discrimination, and at times violence toward Jewish communities. This legacy remains deeply troubling, and contemporary scholarship rightly acknowledges the harm caused when theological polemic crossed the line into dehumanizing rhetoric or social exclusion.

At the same time, the historical situation in which these developments occurred was complex and multi-layered. Both emerging Christian and Jewish communities understood themselves in relation to the same scriptural heritage and often interpreted claims of divine election in mutually exclusive terms. Tensions were further intensified by social, political, and cultural competition in the late antique world, as well as by periods of mutual suspicion and rivalry. These factors shaped an environment in which theological disagreement could easily harden into adversarial identity formation.

Modern historians have therefore cautioned against simplistic readings that collapse all instances of Christian anti-Jewish rhetoric into a single, monolithic Church policy (Abulafia 2002; Nirenberg 2013; Langmuir 1990; Porat 2023). While it is clear that certain theological motifs, such as the accusation of collective Jewish guilt for Christ’s death, had a long and damaging afterlife, it is also important to distinguish between official doctrine and the often inconsistent, context-driven actions of bishops, Councils, and Christian societies shaped by their own political structures. In this sense, responsibility is distributed unevenly across individuals, traditions, and historical circumstances, rather than reducible to a single institutional intention.

Yet even within this difficult history, one can discern trajectories that moved in different directions: some toward coexistence and limited toleration, others toward sharper exclusion. It is precisely this ambivalence that makes the historical record so significant for contemporary reflection. The watershed moment in reassessing this legacy came with the Second Vatican Council, particularly in Nostra aetate (Flannery 2001), which decisively rejected blanket accusations of Jewish culpability and called for a renewed theological relationship between Christians and Jews grounded in respect, dialogue, and mutual recognition. Subsequent documents, including We Remember (1998), further reinforced this trajectory by acknowledging that erroneous interpretations of Scripture had, at times, fostered hostility toward the Jewish people. Such statements represent an important institutional effort to confront the distortions of the past and to distinguish between authentic Christian teaching and historically conditioned misreadings that fueled prejudice.

In this light, Cyril of Alexandria’s legacy, like that of other early Christian writers, must be approached critically but carefully: neither excused by historical context nor abstracted into modern categories without nuance. His anti-Jewish rhetoric, when read today, stands as a warning of how theological argumentation can become entangled with social hostility when doctrinal identity is defined over against an “other” in absolute terms. Contemporary scholarship, shaped by both historical rigor and moral reflection, therefore insists on vigilance against any revival of interpretive traditions that risk perpetuating such patterns.

Ultimately, the history surveyed here underscores both the fragility and the possibility of transformation in Christian–Jewish relations. It reveals a tradition that has contained both exclusionary and reconciliatory impulses, and it challenges present-day theology to ensure that the interpretive legacy of figures like Cyril is engaged critically, responsibly, and in a manner that resists any repetition of the anti-Jewish trajectories of the past.