JB Lightfoot

It was a constant taunt of the early antagonists of Christianity, that the new religion did not recruit its ranks from the most exalted or the most intellectual or the most respectable classes of society. The philosopher Celsus, who appears to have written about the middle of the second century, makes it a matter of reproach that the active members of the sect were wool-workers and cobblers and curriers, the most ignorant and boorish of mankind, who were marvellously eloquent in a knot of women or boys or slaves, but had not a word to say for themselves when confronted with sensible men. The taunt was an old foe with a new face. Long ago the question had been asked, as if the mere asking were sufficient to bar all further inquiry, "Have any of the rulers or of the Pharisees believed?" (John 7:48) And now the language of the Jewish priests is unconsciously echoed by the Gentile sophists: "Have any of the princes, any of the senators, any of the philosophers believed?"