To feel verse 15 the way the crowd felt it, you need two things the text assumes you already know: a name, and a job.
The name first. Deep in the history books there is a story about a king of Israel named Ahaziah who fell through a lattice, hurt himself badly, and sent messengers to ask a foreign god whether he would recover. The god’s name was Baal-zebub, “lord of the flies,” and he was worshiped at Ekron, a Philistine city a little over twenty miles west of Jerusalem — close enough to be insulting (2 Kings 1:2–16). Elijah met the messengers on the road with a question that has never lost its edge: “Is it because there is no God in Israel that you are going to inquire of Baal-zebub?”
That is the last we hear of him — until seven verses scattered across three Gospels, where a very similar name shows up as a title for the prince of the demons. And here is the honest part, which we will look at closely in the drop-down: the two names are not spelled the same, and the connection between them is one of the genuinely unsettled questions in this passage.
Now the job. Casting out demons was not an unheard-of thing in first-century Judaism. It was a recognized practice with recognized practitioners — which is exactly why verse 19 lands the way it does. Jesus can say “by whom do your sons cast them out?” because everybody in earshot knew somebody who did this for a living. What we can reconstruct of that work, from sources written by Jews in or near Jesus’ own century, is a trade full of apparatus: roots, rings, smoke, written charms, recited formulas, and above all a borrowed name.
Hold that word — borrowed. It is the hinge of the whole chapter. The argument in verses 14–20 is not really about method. It is about whose authority a man is standing on when he speaks to a spirit and the spirit goes.
📜 The name nobody can quite pin down — Baal-zebub, Beelzebul, and what we actually know
Start with the spelling, because it is the whole problem. The Hebrew of 2 Kings 1:2 reads baʿal zəbûb — zebub being the ordinary Hebrew word for a fly. The Septuagint did not even transliterate it — it translated: Βααλ μυῖαν θεὸν Ακκαρων, “Baal the Fly, god of Ekron.” So a Greek-reading Jew in the first century knew this god by that name, in that sense.
But the New Testament does not spell it that way. Every Greek manuscript reads Βεελζεβούλ (Beelzeboul) or, in Vaticanus and Sinaiticus, Βεεζεβούλ with one l dropped. It ends in -boul, not -bub. The familiar “Beelzebub” of the King James Version comes from the Latin Vulgate and the Syriac, not from any Greek copy — those versions quietly conformed the Gospel name to the Old Testament one. NASB95 prints what the Greek says.
So where does -boul come from? Three live options, and we will not pretend one is settled.
- “Baal the Prince.” The Semitic root zbl is a genuine, attested royal title — and we can put tablet numbers on it. In the Ugaritic Baal Cycle, recovered from a Bronze Age city on the Syrian coast, the phrase zbl baʿal ʾarṣ (“the prince, lord of the earth”) appears at least eight times. That is not a devotional guess; it is a hard Ugaritic parallel (Christian Frevel, “The Enigma of Baal-Zebub: A New Solution,” in Divine Names on the Spot II, 2023).
- “Lord of the Dwelling” — lord of the house. Same root, read as zəbûl, “lofty dwelling, residence.” If this is right, the whole discourse is a sustained pun. They call Him the servant of the lord-of-the-house, and He answers with a divided house, a guarded house, a re-entered house, and finally a house that is blessed because it keeps God’s word. This is the reading Jeremy Otten argues for (“The Devil in the Details,” Religions 14.8, 2023), partly because of that wordplay. It is widely held. It is not proven.
- A deliberate Israelite insult — that Israel took “Prince Baal” and twisted it into “Fly Baal” to mock it. Here we have to pull back. This is the version you will hear most often from a pulpit, and a specialist publishing on exactly this question in 2023 rejects it: Frevel argues there is no consonant-swap of the kind documented in other Israelite name-insults, and that zebub, “flies,” is simply the original. Do not teach the mockery theory as fact. Teach it as one of three.
And now the fact that surprises everyone, which is worth saying out loud in the room: outside the New Testament, the name “Beelzebul” is not attested anywhere before the Gospels — not in the Old Testament, not at Qumran, not in Josephus. Its first surviving appearance in this form is in the Gospels themselves (Otten, 2023). The Testament of Solomon does call Beelzeboul “the exarch of the demons,” and people quote it constantly as background — but that book is later than the Gospels and Christian-influenced in the form we have it. Using it to explain Luke 11 runs the clock backwards.
What is safe to say: the accusers used a name for the prince of demons that we cannot fully trace, built on a Semitic root that means something like prince or dwelling, and probably heard behind it the old Philistine god Elijah mocked. What is not safe to say: that we know what it meant, or that everyone in the first century used it.
🏺 What an exorcist actually carried — and why that makes verse 19 bite
Four windows into this world, all from Jewish writers, all within a century or so of Jesus.
1. Josephus watched one and wrote it down. In Antiquities 8.45–49 he reports that God gave Solomon “that skill which expels demons… He composed such incantations also by which distempers are alleviated.” Then Josephus says he saw it himself: “I have seen a certain man of my own country, whose name was Eleazar, releasing people that were demoniacal in the presence of Vespasian… He put a ring that had a root of one of those sorts mentioned by Solomon to the nostrils of the demoniac, after which he drew out the demon through his nostrils; and when the man fell down immediately, he abjured him to return into him no more, making still mention of Solomon, and reciting the incantations which he composed.” To prove it worked, Eleazar set a basin of water at a distance and commanded the departing demon to knock it over (Whiston’s Josephus, Antiquities Book 8).
Count the equipment in that one paragraph: a ring, a root, a name (Solomon’s), recited incantations, a binding oath, and a staged demonstration. Honest note: commentaries routinely say the root in Eleazar’s ring was the baaras root Josephus describes elsewhere. Josephus does not say that. He says “a root of one of those sorts mentioned by Solomon.” It is a reasonable guess; it is not the text.
2. The baaras root. Separately, in Jewish War 7.180–185, Josephus describes a plant growing in the valley by Machaerus — the fortress where he places John the Baptist’s death — that glows at evening, recoils from the hand, and kills whoever pulls it up, so it is harvested by tying a dog to it. Its one virtue: “if it be only brought to sick persons, it quickly drives away those called demons, which are no other than the spirits of the wicked, that enter into men that are alive and kill them.” Note his demonology in passing: to Josephus, demons are the spirits of the wicked dead.
3. Tobit. In the book of Tobit the angel’s instructions are practical chemistry: take the heart and liver of a fish, “make a smoke from these before the man or woman, and that person will never be troubled again” (6:7). It works — “when the demon smelled the odor he fled to the remotest parts of Egypt, and the angel bound him” (8:3). Careful: you will see Tobit 8:3 cited to prove demons go to the desert. It says Egypt. Use it for the smoke and the binding, not for geography.
4. The Dead Sea Scrolls. Among them is 11Q11, a small collection of exorcism psalms — complete with adjuration language and a congregational “Amen, Amen” at the close — copied around the middle of the first century AD. Many scholars restore Solomon’s name in its second psalm; the brackets are reconstruction, so we say restore, not reads. There is also 4Q560, an Aramaic charm naming classes of demon, and, in the Genesis Apocryphon, Abram healing Pharaoh “I laid my hands upon his he[ad], and the affliction was removed from him and the evil [spirit] was exorcized” — with no root, ring, or smoke at all, only prayer.
5. And the New Testament’s own witness. In Ephesus, “some Jews who went around driving out evil spirits tried to invoke the name of the Lord Jesus… ‘In the name of Jesus, whom Paul preaches, I command you to come out’” — and it goes catastrophically wrong (Acts 19:13–19). Afterward the city’s practitioners burned their scrolls, valued at “fifty thousand pieces of silver.” The Greek does not name the coin; if it is the drachma, as most reckon, that is about a day’s wage apiece — roughly 137 years of daily wages going up in smoke. This trade was not fringe. It was an industry.
Now the honest version of the contrast, because the sloppy version will not survive a sharp question. It is not true that “Jews used gimmicks and Jesus didn’t” — Abram in the Genesis Apocryphon simply prays, and Jesus Himself asks a demon’s name in Mark 5:9, which was itself a known technique. What is true, and what James Dunn and Graham Twelftree put almost in these words, is that in the Gospels Jesus uses no physical aids and “does not invoke any authority or power source.” Eleazar says Solomon. The sons of Sceva say Jesus, whom Paul preaches. Everyone borrows a name. Jesus borrows nobody’s. That is the claim verses 19–20 are about to make explicit.