0028–6885 | volume 57 | number 2 | april 2011
NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES Published quarterly in association with studiorum novi testamenti societas
NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES
EDITOR OF NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES J. M. G. Barclay (Durham, England) Editorial Board J. N. Aletti (Rome, Italy) D. Allison (Pittsburgh Seminary, PA, USA) F. Avemarie (Marburg, Germany) D. Balch (Pacific Lutheran Seminary, CA, USA) B. Byrne (Melbourne, Australia) C. Gerber (Hamburg, Germany) M. Holmes (Bethel College, St. Paul, MN, USA) C. Karakolis (Athens, Greece) K. King (Cambridge, MA, USA) M. Konradt (Heidelberg, Germany) H. Löhr (Münster, Germany) L. M. McDonald (Arizona, USA) H. Moxnes (Oslo, Norway) G. O’day (Winston-Salem, NC, USA) A. Reinhartz (Ottawa, Canada) H. Roose (Lüneburg, Germany) D. Sim (Melbourne, Australia) G. Steyn (Pretoria, South Africa)
EDITOR OF THE SNTS MONOGRAPH SERIES J. M. Court (Canterbury, England) THE OFFICERS OF THE SOCIETY ex officio: President of the Society for 2010–2011: A. Yarbro Collins, (Yale, CT, USA) Past-President : A. Lindemann, (Bielefeld, Germany) President-Elect : A. Puig I Tàrrech, (Barcelona, Spain) Deputy President-Elect: H.J. De Jonge (Leiden, Netherlands) Secretary : M. de Boer, (Amsterdam, Netherlands) Assistant Secretary : A. Clarke, (Aberdeen, Scotland) Treasurer : H. K. Bond, (Edinburgh, Scotland) For further information on the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas, please look at the website at https://www.surfgroepen.nl/sites/snts
New Testament Studies is an international peer-reviewed periodical whose contributors include the leading New Testament scholars writing in the world today. The journal publishes original articles and short studies in English, French and German on a wide range of issues pertaining to the origins, history, context and theology of the New Testament and early Christianity. All contributions represent research at the cutting edge of the discipline, which has developed a wide range of methods. The journal welcomes submissions employing any such methods, such as exegetical, historical, literary-critical, sociological, hermeneutical and theological approaches to the New Testament, including studies that employ gender, ethnicity or ideology as categories of analysis, and studies in its history of interpretation and effects. Scholars who wish to publish in New Testament Studies but are not able to compose academic material in one of the three languages used by the Journal (English, German and French) are advised to contact the editor, Professor John Barclay
[email protected], to seek advice regarding the possible translation of their work into one of these languages.
Published under the auspices of Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas While reviews are not published in this journal, the October issue carries a Books Received list of books received in the previous year. Review copies should be sent to the Editor. Subscriptions
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© Cambridge University Press 2011
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000317
In Memoriam: Rev. Professor Robin McL. Wilson and Professor Graham N. Stanton During the past short while, two former editors of New Testament Studies, who both also became Presidents of SNTS, have sadly passed away, and it is fitting here to pay tribute to them for their very extensive service to the Journal and to the Society to which it is attached. Robert (Robin) McLachlan Wilson, who spent his entire academic career (–) at St. Andrew’s University, Scotland, was a close friend of his colleague Matthew Black, who was the founding editor of NTS from –. Robin Wilson gave considerable editorial assistance to Matthew Black from early on, becoming ‘review editor’ from , then ‘associate editor’ from . After serving as ‘acting editor’ in – he then inherited the role of editor in , in which he continued through to his retirement in . In those days editing the Journal also involved editorship of the SNTS Monograph Series, and he managed both tasks with exemplary care and attention during a very successful period of growth. He was renowned for his attention to detail, his phenomenal breadth of knowledge, his linguistic expertise, and his helpfulness to authors. Late into his retirement he selflessly offered his assistance to subsequent editors, and no-one could offer wiser or more perceptive advice. The high reputation enjoyed by the Journal and Monograph Series owes much to the standards set in those first formative decades, and Robin Wilson’s unobtrusive service to scholarship in this connection was of considerable significance. With regard to SNTS he served for many years on the Committee and Editorial Board (– ), and was President at the Rome meeting in . He died aged on June , and is remembered with great affection and enormous respect by his international circle of friends, colleagues, and students, as well as those many authors who benefited from his editorial care. Graham N. Stanton came from New Zealand to the UK, where he studied for a PhD (under C. F. D. Moule) and then taught at King’s College London (– ) and Cambridge (–) where he was Lady Margaret Professor. With a genius for organisation and the quiet negotiation of potential problems, Graham became Secretary of SNTS (–) and then editor of NTS and the Monograph Series, in succession to Robin Wilson, from till . His work-rate, his scholarly wisdom and his encouragement of junior scholars were legendary: somehow he juggled innumerable tasks with never-failing efficiency,
JOHN BARCLAY
and he took particular pleasure in seeing the work of up-and-coming scholars through to publication. Unfailingly courteous and kind, he helped many scholars bear the disappointment of rejection by making sure they got positive advice, and his suggestions for revision and improvement of manuscripts were of enormous value. As in his own publications, he set the highest standards of scholarship, to the benefit of us all. He became President of SNTS in (Strasbourg) and gave tirelessly of his time and energy to foster the work of the Society for many years thereafter. He died aged on July , after a long battle with cancer, but his scholarship, his gentleness of spirit and his warm encouragement of others live on in the memory of all who knew him, not least his many doctoral students. John Barclay (current editor)
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000305
The Female Body as Social Space in 1 Timothy AD E L A YAR B R O C O L LI N S 102 Leete’s Island Road, Guilford, CT 06437, USA. email:
[email protected].
By means of his reception of Paul and Genesis, the author of Timothy created a social space in which the autonomy of women, including control of their own bodies, is severely limited. The purpose of such discourse was to oppose Marcion’s rejection of marriage and procreation. The letter thus advocates marriage as a virtual requirement for all Christians, especially ‘the younger widows’, who were probably virgins. Instead of propagating teaching and practices opposed by the author, these women ought to marry, bear children, and keep silent. The author shares certain values with elite Greeks, such as Plutarch, and with the Christian teacher Valentinus. Besides Marcion, the author also criticizes early gnostic teaching of the type found in the Secret Book according to John. Keywords: reception of Paul, marriage, leadership of women, Marcion, Apocryphon of John, Valentinus
An apparent purpose of Timothy is to construct a social space in which each male and female has a proper place and a proper type of behavior. The resulting construction has far-reaching implications for the social control of female bodies. For that reason, I propose to examine the discourse employed in defining the proper, embodied behavior of women in this letter. I take for granted that Timothy is part of the history of the reception of the historical Paul and his letters. In examining the discourse of this letter, I focus on the instructions regarding marriage and the leadership of women. For the idea that space is socially and ideologically constructed, see David G. Horrell, ‘Disciplining Performance and “Placing” the Church: Widows, Elders and Slaves in the Household of God ( Tim ,–,)’, Timothy Reconsidered (ed. Karl Paul Donfried; Colloquium Oecumenicum Paulinum ; Leuven: Peeters, ) – and the literature cited in nn. –. See also Carol A. Newsom, The Self as Symbolic Space: Constructing Identity and Community at Qumran (STDJ ; Leiden: Brill, ). The classic study is P. N. Harrison, The Problem of the Pastoral Epistles (London: Oxford University, ); see also Martin Dibelius and Hans Conzelmann, The Pastoral Epistles: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, ) –; Raymond F. Collins, Letters
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As is well known, Paul’s teaching on marriage is nuanced. On the one hand, he valued the single state and the practice of continence, in his words, the practice of ἐκρατ1ύ1σθαι, of keeping one’s desires under control. On the other hand, he recognized that, as long as the present age endures, as long as those ‘in Christ’ are also ‘in the flesh’, they experience strong sexual desires. These desires are likely to lead to instances of sexual immorality. So everyone who does not have the gift of sexual continence from God ought to marry. Paul’s instructions regarding the leadership of women are also balanced. He did not question the practice of women praying and prophesying in the context of gatherings of the community. Yet he employed readings of Genesis – in order to insist on maintaining socially constructed differences between males and females. The presentation of Christ as the head of every man, whereas the man is the head of (every) woman, suggests that the relationship of men to Christ is direct, while that of women is indirect. Similarly, (the) man is the image and glory of God, whereas the woman is the glory of (the) man. Here the relationship of men to God is direct, but that of women to God is mediated through men. These readings of Genesis are employed to advocate the practices of women covering their heads and men not covering their heads in community
that Paul did not Write: The Epistle to the Hebrews and the Pauline Pseudepigrapha (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, ) –. Jens Herzer argues that Timothy should be understood as a school-pseudepigraphon that serves to some degree as an identity marker; ‘Fiktion oder Täuschung? Zur Diskussion über die Pseudepigraphie der Pastoralbriefe’, Pseudepigraphie und Verfasserfiktion in frühchristlichen Briefen (ed. Jörg Frey et al.; WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) – [–]; see also Annette Merz, Die fiktive Selbstauslegung des Paulus: Intertextuelle Studien zur Intention und Rezeption der Pastoralbriefe (NTOA/SUNT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Fribourg: Academic, ); Timo Glaser, Paulus als Briefroman erzählt: Studien zum antiken Briefroman und seiner christlichen Rezeption in den Pastoralbriefen (NTOA/SUNT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). Manabu Tsuji argues, in contrast, that all three Pastoral Letters are forgeries; ‘Persönliche Korrespondenz des Paulus: Zur Strategie der Pastoralbriefe als Pseudepigrapha’, NTS () –. Cor .–; see also Cor ., –, –, . For a discussion of the Corinthian pneumatics who valued sexual asceticism and Paul’s nuanced response, see Judith M. Gundry-Volf, ‘Controlling the Bodies: A Theological Profile of the Corinthian Sexual Ascetics ( Cor )’, The Corinthian Correspondence (ed. R. Bieringer; BEThL ; Leuven: Leuven University and Peeters, ) –. Cor .–, ; see also Cor ., , . Cor ., . Cor . is a reading of Gen .– if Hans Conzelmann is correct that Paul, in order to serve his rhetorical purpose, substitutes the word κ1ϕαλή here for 1ἰκών. See Conzelmann, Corinthians: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, ; German ed. ) –, –. Cor .– appears to be a reading of both Gen .– and Gen .–.
The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy
gatherings. Lest anyone make too much of these readings, however, Paul qualifies them by affirming that ‘in the Lord’ men and women are interdependent. Furthermore, the origin of woman from man in creation is balanced by the birth of men from women since then. Finally, all are dependent on God. Paul thus indirectly affirms the leadership of women in his discussion of praying and prophesying. In his argument, however, that in community gatherings everything should be done in a decorous and orderly manner, he either contradicts himself or restricts other kinds of speech by women in the assemblies: ‘Let the women be silent in the assemblies; for it is not proper for them to speak; let them rather be subordinated, just as the law says. But if they wish to learn something, let them ask their (own) husbands at home; for it is shameful for a woman to speak in an assembly’. Some scholars have rightly argued that these verses about women dramatically disrupt the context and the flow of the argument. The hypothesis that a later editor added this statement is also supported by textual evidence. The author of Timothy, however, most likely knew this interpolation and accepted it as the teaching of Paul. The instructions on marriage and the leadership of women in Timothy, in contrast, lack the nuance and balance that we have seen in Corinthians. The author has consistently chosen one side of Paul’s ‘both/and’ instructions and often intensified it. After showing that such is the case, I attempt to answer the question why it is so. The author of Timothy affirms chastity but does not emphasize the value of sexual continence. Marriage is a virtual requirement for all members of the audience. To be appointed as an overseer or bishop, a man must be the husband of one wife. The rhetorical point is that he should not be divorced and remarried.
Cor .–. Cor .–; quotation from Cor .–. All translations from the Greek New Testament (NA) are my own. E.g., Conzelmann, Corinthians, . He considered v. b to be part of the interpolated passage but notes that others have taken it with the previous sentence ( n. ). Even if Conzelmann is right that the transposition of vv. – to follow v. in some manuscripts is a secondary simplification ( Corinthians, n. ), this evidence at least confirms the perception of some modern readers that these verses disrupt the context. Some scholars argue that it was the other way around: the author of the interpolation used Tim .– in formulating the material inserted into Cor : Dennis R. MacDonald, The Legend and the Apostle: The Battle for Paul in Story and Canon (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, ) –; Richard I. Pervo, The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) –. For a critical history of scholarship, see Marlene Crüsemann, ‘Unrettbar frauenfeindlich: Der Kampf um das Wort von Frauen in Kor , (b) – im Spiegel antijudaistischer Elemente der Auslegung’, Von der Wurzel getragen: christlich-feministische Exegese in Auseinandersetzung mit Antijudaismus (ed. Luise Schottroff and Marie-Theres Wacker; Biblical Interpretation Series ; Leiden: Brill, ) –.
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Widowers who aspire to the office should not remarry. Although many men and women in ancient Greek, Roman, and Jewish contexts remarried, lifelong marital fidelity was praised, at least on funerary monuments. Here an understanding of chastity is advocated that emphasizes marriage rather than sexual continence. The centrality of marriage is clear in the argument that a man who governs his household well, keeping his children under control, will also be able to manage the congregation of God. Similarly, each deacon should be the husband of one wife and manage his children and household well. It is clear that the terms ‘overseer’ or ‘bishop’ and ‘deacon’ refer to fixed roles in the leadership of the community. The elders are also figures who govern, are compensated, and exercise leadership notably in proclaiming the word and teaching. The context suggests that they are also ordained in a sense: Timothy, as Paul’s agent, ‘lays hands’ upon them. It is less clear whether the word ‘widows’ refers simply to a social status or to a fixed role in the community. Care for the physical welfare of widows in the early church is attested by Acts .- and advocated by Jas .. At some point, this practice was combined with a value placed on sexual continence and a disvalue on marriage outside the community so that women who remained widows began to comprise a special group within the community. They were supported with money or goods and also honored for maintaining the single, continent status. The hypothesis that there was such a fixed group of widows in the first half of the second century is supported by texts roughly contemporary with Timothy. Carolyn Osiek and David L. Balch, Families in the New Testament World: Households and Household Churches (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ) ; Susan Treggiari, ‘Divorce Roman Style: How Easy and How Frequent Was It?’, Marriage, Divorce, and Children in Ancient Rome (ed. Beryl Rawson; Canberra: Humanities Research Centre; Oxford: Clarendon, ) – [–]; Suzanne Dixon, The Roman Family (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ) –, , –, . The same value is evident, both for men and women, in Jewish inscriptions; see Dibelius and Conzelmann, Pastoral Epistles, , and n. . Tim .–. Cf. Plutarch Coniugalia praecepta (c). Tim .. Tim ., . Widows seem to constitute a fixed and well-known group also in Acts .–; Turid Karlsen Seim, The Double Message: Patterns of Gender in Luke–Acts (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) –. Seim, Double Message, , –. In Tim . and , the verb τιμάω is used in such a way that monetary gifts or gifts in kind are implied. This usage, however, may well have included ‘honor’ of a social kind as well. I agree with Jens Herzer that Timothy should be dated to the first half of the second century; see his ‘Juden—Christen—Gnostiker: Zur Gegnerproblematik der Pastoralbriefe’, Die Entstehung des Christentums aus dem Judentum = Berliner Theologische Zeitschrift () – (, , ).
The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy
At the end of his letter to the Smyrneans, Ignatius greets ‘the virgins who are called widows’. Polycarp also seems to presuppose a fixed group of widows in his letter to the Philippians: We should teach the widows to be self-controlled with respect to faith in the Lord, to pray without ceasing for everyone, and to be distant from all libel, slander, false witness, love of money, and all evil, knowing that they are God’s altar and that each offering is inspected for a blemish and that nothing escapes his notice, whether thoughts, ideas, or any of the things hidden in the heart.
The instructions concerning widows in Timothy make more sense if the author is not establishing the order of widows for the first time but attempting to reform an existing one. The reform consists in defining ‘widow’ more narrowly and excluding those who do not fit this new definition. The ‘real’ widows are those who have no children, grandchildren, or any other relatives who could provide for them. One reason for this restriction may be to lessen the financial burden on the community. The new definition, however, involves being no less than sixty years old and having been married once. This definition excludes ‘virgins’, that is, women who choose to live in the single state rather than marrying at all. Such women apparently made a solemn promise or even took an oath to remain sexually continent. In addition to the economic issue, the author has two reasons for excluding the virgins, in his language ‘the younger widows’. The first echoes Paul’s Corinthian Ignatius Smyrneans .; translation from Bart D. Ehrman, The Apostolic Fathers ( vols.; LCL –; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ) .. Cf. Ignatius Polycarp .. Polycarp Philippians .; trans. from Ehrman, .. The date and integrity of this letter are disputed (.–). Sebastian Moll seems simply to assume the viability of Harrison’s thesis that two letters underlie the received one; The Arch-Heretic Marcion (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. See the perhaps too generous review of Moll’s book by Paul Foster, ‘Marcion without Harnack’, ExpT () –. On the characterization of widows as the altar of God, see Carolyn Osiek, ‘The Widow as Altar: The Rise and Fall of a Symbol’, Second Century () –. Tim .–; Jouette Bassler, ‘The Widow’s Tale: A Fresh Look at Tim .–’, JBL () – (–); Seim, Double Message, –. See also Horrell, ‘Disciplining Performance’, and the further literature cited in n. . Tim .-. This goal seems to be implied in Tim .. According to Luke Timothy Johnson, this is ‘the most obvious and central concern of the passage’; see his The First and Second Letters to Timothy (AB A; New York: Doubleday, ) . See also the discussion of his views by Marianne Bjelland Kartzow, Gossip and Gender: Othering of Speech in the Pastoral Epistles (BZNW ; Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, ) –. Tim .. Implied by Tim .; Seim, Double Message, –. See also BAGD, s.v. πίστις, and Horrell, ‘Disciplining Performance’, .
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correspondence: ‘For when they grow wanton, turning away from Christ, they wish to marry, incurring judgment upon themselves because they have broken their first promise’. The second reason is, ‘At the same time, they also learn to be idle, going around from house to house, and are not only idle but also nonsense-talkers and busybodies, saying what should not be said’. Instead, these women should marry, bear children, manage their households, and thus ‘give the opponent no occasion for reproach’. Some scholars have argued that this description signifies that ‘the lifestyle of the widows seems to have produced a negative reaction in the wider society, which objected to their free and apparently useless behavior (v b)’. The next verse, however, reads, ‘For some have already turned aside to follow Satan’. Jouette Bassler interprets this verse to mean that some of the widows have embraced the heretical movement opposed by the Pastor. If, however, one reads these two verses together, instead of separately as expressing two different arguments, the rhetoric appears to have a different point. In this reading, ‘the opponent’ in . is Satan, who looks for opportunities to reproach the faithful in the heavenly court. So, rather than a worry about what outsiders will think, the author indicates that the lifestyle of the widows, especially the younger ones pledged to virginity, indicates a potential, and to some degree actual, link between members of the audience and a group or movement that the author opposes. In this reading the accusations of idleness, gadding about, talking nonsense, and being busybodies do not constitute a fair description of the lifestyle of the widows. It is rather a highly tendentious and pejorative depiction. The claim that the younger ‘widows’ say ‘what should not be said’ is thus
Tim .b–; cf. Cor ., d, , ; Cor .–. Tim .; see the discussions of the usage of ϕλύαρος (and in one instance, π1ρι1ργία) in Bjelland Kartzow, Gossip and Gender, – (π1ρι1ργία on ). See also the use of π1ρι1ργάζ1σθαι in Thess .. Bassler, ‘Widow’s Tale’, ; note also the scholars mentioned in her n. ; Seim speaks of the fear ‘that the surrounding society will react negatively to such a lack of conformity to the domesticity expected of women’ (Double Message, ). Bassler, ‘Widow’s Tale’, and n. . Seim also concludes that the author opposed the ascetic behavior of the widows and maintained ‘that their weakness encourages easy access by heretics who advocated an ascetic lifestyle’ (Double Message, ). The phrase ὁ ἀντικ1ίμ1νος also signifies Satan in Clem . and MPol .. In the instruction concerning an acceptable candidate for the role of overseer or bishop, the author states that he ‘must also have a good reputation among outsiders, in order that he not fall into disgrace and the trap of the Slanderer’ (.). Here the concern with outsiders is explicit. Note the use of the plural here but the singular in .. The two passages seem to construe the activity of Satan in different ways. Bjelland Kartzow accepts that Tim . engages in ancient gossip discourse and that ‘a whole gossip scene is described’ (Gossip and Gender, ). She retrieves gossip as ‘a useful stereotype’ and construes it as ‘a creative counter-discourse’ (–).
The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy
not a rejection of gossip but a reaction to teaching with which the author disagrees. A clue as to the identification of this group or movement is the extraordinary statement at the beginning of ch. : Now the Spirit says explicitly that in later times some will fall away from the faith, giving heed to spirits that lead (them) astray and to teachings of demons. (They will be led astray) by the pretense of liars, seared in their own consciences, forbidding marriage. They also command abstinence from foods, which God created for the faithful to share with thanksgiving, and the faithful know the truth.
As far as I am aware, the only evidence for a Christian teacher forbidding marriage in the first half of the second century concerns Marcion. Clement of Alexandria wrote: Marcion’s followers held natural processes as evil because they were derived from matter that was evil, and from an unrighteous creator. On this argument they have no wish to fill the cosmos the creator brought into being, and choose to abstain from marriage. They stand in opposition to their creator and make So also Horrell, ‘Disciplining Performance’, . Tim .–. The Acts of Paul (and Thecla) teach that only the celibate will attain the resurrection, but this work dates to the second half of the second century; see Wilhelm Schneemelcher, ‘Acts of Paul [including the Acts of Paul and Thecla]’, New Testament Apocrypha ( vols., ed. Wilhelm Schneemelcher; Cambridge, UK: James Clarke; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, rev. ed. ; German ed. ) .– (). MacDonald has argued that the Pastoral Letters were written against oral stories similar to those later incorporated in the Acts of Paul (Legend). Willy Rordorf has agreed with him; see his ‘In welchem Verhältnis stehen die apokryphen Paulusakten zur kanonischen Apostelgeschichte und zu den Pastoralbriefen?’, Text and Testimony: Essays on New Testament and Apocryphal Literature in Honour of A. F. J. Klijn (ed. T. Baarda et al.; Kampen: Uitgeversmaatschappij J. H. Kok, ) – ( n. ); ‘Nochmals: Paulusakten und Pastoralbriefe’, Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament (ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne and Otto Betz; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. But the differences combined with similarities can also be explained as free adaptation on the part of the author of the Acts of Paul or as due to a process of re-oralization of the written Pastorals. Thus I am more inclined to agree with Joachim Rohde (although he dates the Pastorals unnecessarily early, i.e., – CE) that the author of the Acts of Paul knew and used the Pastoral Letters in composing his work and deliberately portrayed as the legitimate teaching of Paul those views criticized by the Pastorals as false teaching; see his ‘Pastoralbriefe und Acta Pauli’, Studia Evangelica vol. V Part II (ed. F. L. Cross; TU ; Berlin: Akademie, ) – (, , ). Richard Bauckham concludes that the author of the Acts of Paul knew the Pastorals; see his ‘The Acts of Paul as a Sequel to Acts’, The Book of Acts in Its First Century Setting. Vol. , The Book of Acts in Its Ancient Literary Setting (ed. Bruce W. Winter and A. D. Clarke; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) – (–).
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haste towards the one they call god, who is not (they say) god in another sense. As a result, they have no desire to leave anything of theirs behind them here on earth. So they are abstinent not by an act of will but through hatred of the creator and the refusal to use any of his productions.
Clement and Tertullian described the teachings and practices of the Marcionites and attempted to refute them in detail. The author of Timothy, writing earlier, instead summarized the teaching in a pejorative way and did not name the teacher or group who advocated it. This procedure is typical of the Pastoral Letters as a whole. There is also evidence that Marcion advocated strict self-control with regard to food and drink. Theodore of Mopsuestia, in commenting on this passage, said of the Marcionites, among others, ‘they condemn the use of food as almost shameful’. The Marcionites advocated abstinence from meat and wine, citing Rom . and Cor .. They also encouraged the practice of fasting, even on the Sabbath. The hypothesis that the Pastoral Letters were written against Marcion has been repeatedly advanced and rejected. No doubt other Christians and perhaps other Clement Stromateis ..–; translation from John Ferguson, Clement of Alexandria: Stromateis—Books One to Three (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America, ) –. See also Tertullian adv. Marc. . and the text and translation in Ernest Evans, Tertullian Adversus Marcionem: Books – (Oxford: Clarendon, ) –. For further references see Adolf von Harnack, Marcion. Das Evangelium vom fremden Gott: Neue Studien zu Marcion (Berlin: Akademie, ; repr. of d rev. ed. ) *–*. Dibelius and Conzelmann, Pastoral Epistles, –. ‘Escarum usum quasi inhonestum criminant’ (Harnack, Marcion, *; see also , *). Cf. Tertullian adv. Marc. . and Ieiun. .. Harnack, Marcion, –, citing the fifth-century Armenian writer, Yesnik of Koghb or Eznik of Kolb, Against the Sects, who says that the Marcionites taught that it was better not to eat meat and not to drink wine; quoted by Harnack (*–*) from p. of the translation of J. M. Schmidt, Das Wardapet Eznik von Kolb wider die Sekten (Vienna: Mechitharisten, ). For a critical assessment of Eznik as a source, see Wolfgang Hage, ‘Marcion bei Eznik von Kolb’, Marcion und seine kirchengeschichtliche Wirkung/Marcion and His Impact on Church History (ed. Gerhard May, Katharina Greschat, and Martin Meiser; TU ; Berlin: de Gruyter, ) –. In Harnack, Marcion, *, a tenth-century Arabic writer is quoted to similar effect. On such sources see Marco Frenschkowski, ‘Marcion in arabischen Quellen’, Marcion (ed. May) –. Note that Paul, the fictive author, instructs Timothy no longer to drink water (alone or by preference), but to make use of a little wine on account of his stomach and his numerous ailments ( Tim .). Harnack, Marcion, , citing Epiphanius Haer., . and Yesnik (Harnack, Marcion, *; Schmidt, ). Advocated by Ferdinand Christian Baur, Die sogennanten Pastoralbriefe des Apostels Paulus aufs neue kritisch untersucht (Stuttgart/Tübingen: Cotta, ) –; rejected by Harnack, Marcion, *–*. Harnack held that Tim .– could be anti-Marcionite and contain a play on the title of Marcion’s work, the Antitheses. He believed, however, that Tim .– was probably a later addition to the letter (Harnack, Marcion, *–*). Advocated by
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groups in the early second century practiced sexual continence and abstinence from certain kinds of food and drink. Nevertheless, it is worth reviving the hypothesis that Timothy was written, at least in part, to oppose the teaching of Marcion. That Christian teacher and his followers constituted a very prominent movement already in the first half of the second century. In his first Apology, written around CE, Justin Martyr declared that Marcion had many followers of every nation. The hypothesis that Timothy is, in large part, a response to Marcion helps to explain why the author has received Paul’s instructions about marriage and the leadership of women in the way that he has. He rejected practices linked to Christian teaching that he viewed as unacceptable. He thus attempted to construct distinct identities for the Marcionites and those he urged to hold to ‘sound teaching’. We have already seen that the author wants to exclude younger women vowed to sexual continence from the order of widows. He prefers that they marry and
Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (ed. Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Krodel; Philadelphia: Fortress, ) (– in the d German ed. ; st ed. ), John Knox, Marcion and the New Testament (Chicago: University of Chicago, ) –, and Hans von Campenhausen, Polycarp von Smyrna und die Pastoralbriefe (SHAW /; Heidelberg: Carl Winter, ) – (–); repr. ‘Polycarp von Smyrna und die Pastoralbriefe’, Aus der Frühzeit des Christentums (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) – (–); rejected by Dibelius and Conzelmann, Pastoral Epistles, ; they conclude, nevertheless, that the Pastoral Letters and Marcion emerge from a common milieu. Some may have been inspired by Luke .– to be sexually continent or may have used this text to justify that practice (see also .). One could argue similarly for Cor . According to David G. Hunter, ‘The clearest exponent of the “encratite” reading of Cor in the second century was Tatian, the enigmatic apologist and former disciple of Justin’. See his ‘The Reception and Interpretation of Paul in Late Antiquity: Corinthians and the Ascetic Debates’, The Reception and Interpretation of the Bible in Late Antiquity (ed. Lorenzo DiTommaso and Lucian Turcescu; Bible in Ancient Christianity ; Leiden: Brill, ) – (). It is not clear, however, that Tatian’s advocacy of ascetic practices was early enough to have been known by the author of Timothy. Justin Apol. . For a relatively early dating of Marcion, see R. Joseph Hoffman, Marcion: On the Restitution of Christianity (Chico, CA: Scholars, ). For a brief summary and critique of Hoffman’s book, see Gerhard May, ‘Marcion in Contemporary Views: Results and Open Questions’, Second Century (–) – []; see also May’s review in ‘Ein neues Marcionbild?’, Theologische Rundschau () –. Hoffman defends his views in ‘How Then Know this Troublous Teacher? Further Reflections on Marcion and his Church’, Second Century (–) –. For a relatively late dating, see Moll, Arch-Heretic, –. Cf. Tertullian’s remark that ‘discipline is the measure of doctrine’ (Praescr. haer. .), discussed by Judith M. Lieu, ‘ “As much my apostle as Christ is mine”: The Dispute over Paul between Tertullian and Marcion’, Early Christianity () – (). Tim .; .. For a study of the way in which Justin used circumcision to create separate identities for Jews and Christians, see Nina E. Livesey, ‘Theological Identity Making: Justin’s Use of Circumcision to Create Jews and Christians’, JECS () –.
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cease the activity of teaching that he has masked under the pejorative terms of talking nonsense and gadding about as busybodies. This instruction has the double intention of advocating marriage and childbearing and opposing the teaching and practice of sexual continence. This view of the environment in which Timothy was composed also helps explain the explicit rejection of any kind of female leadership in ch. : Let a woman learn in silence in complete subordination; I do not permit a woman to teach or to have power over a man, but to be silent. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor. She will be saved through childbearing, if they remain in faithfulness and love and holiness with self-control.
Not only did Marcion forbid marriage and the begetting and bearing of children, he and his followers also permitted the leadership of women in their congregations. Tertullian wrote: The very women of these heretics, how wanton they are! For they are bold enough to teach, to dispute, to enact exorcisms, to undertake cures—it may be even to baptize. [The Marcionites’] ordinations are carelessly administered, capricious, changeable…. And so it comes to pass that to-day one man is their bishop, to-morrow another; to-day he is a deacon who to-morrow is a reader; to-day he is a priest (or elder) who tomorrow is a layman. For even on laymen do they impose the functions of priesthood.
Apparently, Marcion founded congregations that had the same roles or offices as the older local churches. In his churches these roles were not fixed but were Cf. Cor .–. Abraham J. Malherbe translates ‘A woman is to learn in quietness’, linking the phrase ἐν ἡσυχίᾳ in Tim . with ἡσύχιος in .. See his ‘The Virtus Feminarum in Timothy .–’, Renewing Tradition: Studies in Texts and Contexts in Honor of James W. Thompson (ed. Mark W. Hamilton et al.; Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, ) – (). Malherbe translates ‘she is to remain quiet’ (‘Virtus’, ). Cf. Cor .–. Cf. Cor .–. Tim .–. Malherbe translates ‘with moderation’ (‘Virtus’, ). See his discussion of σωϕροσύνη (–). Tertullian Prescr. haer. ; translation by Peter Holmes from The Ante-Nicene Fathers ( vols.; ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) .. See also the text and translation of .– in R. F. Refoulé and P. de Labriolle, eds., Tertullien. Traité de la prescription contre les hérétiques (SC ; Paris: Cerf, ) –. Epiphanius says that Marcion ‘unhesitantly allows even women to administer supposed baptism’ (Panarion ..); translation from Frank Williams, The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis Book I (Sects –) (Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies ; Leiden: Brill, d ed. ) . See also Philip R. Amidon, SJ, The Panarion of St. Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis (New York: Oxford University, ) , Abstract ..
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handled in a free manner. The functions of the various offices were not sharply distinguished, and there was no strict separation of lay and clerical roles. Since sexuality was supposed to be abolished among the redeemed, it is not surprising that Marcion made at least some offices and functions open to women as well as men. The inscription found in Deir-Ali (ancient Lebaba), Syria, mentions the congregation or building (συναγωγή not ἐκκλησία) of the Marcionists in that village. It also indicates that the community or the place of gathering is under the care of a presbyter by the name of Paul. The author of Timothy, in teaching that women should be silent and subordinate, presents this instruction as part of the legacy of Paul. He also offers an interpretation of Genesis – to support the practice of female subordination and to provide a transition to the theme of childbearing. ‘For Adam was formed first, then Eve’, echoes and may be a summary of part of Paul’s argument about head covering. Paul wrote, ‘For man is not from woman, but woman from man; furthermore, man was not created on account of woman, but woman on account of man’. The emphasis in Timothy on the order of creation rather than the process avoids evoking the thought that, in the present time, men are born ‘from women’ rather than vice versa. It also allows the author to avoid mentioning Paul’s qualification, ‘But neither is woman apart from man nor man apart from woman in the Lord; for just as the woman (came into being) through the man, so also the man (comes into being) through the woman, and all things (come into being) from God’.
Perhaps such roles and offices were equally fluid in the older churches at the time Marcion founded his. Moll asserts that Marcion was not innovative with regard to either church offices or the leadership of women (Arch-Heretic, –). See the discussion in Harnack, Marcion, , with reference to the passages from Tertullian and Epiphanius cited above in n. . Moll argues that Marcion adopted the practice of female leadership from ‘the Church’ and that female office holders were the exception rather than the rule ‘both within the orthodox communities and in Marcion’s church’ (Arch-Heretic, –). The inscription dates to or CE. See W. H. Waddington, Inscriptions Grecques et Latines de la Syrie (Paris: F. Didot, ) – no. ; transcription on p. in second section of the volume (numbering begins again with p. following p. ). See also Harnack, Marcion, *–*; Moll, Arch-Heretic, and n. . L. Michael White argues that συναγωγή is a reference to a building and the presbyter Paul had it built; The Social Origins of Christian Architecture. Vol. , Texts and Monuments for the Christian Domus Ecclesiae in Its Environment (HTS ; Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, ) #. Waddington, Harnack, and Moll all assume that a building is meant. He does so by writing in Paul’s name and by echoing Cor .–. For another view of the relation between Tim .– and Cor .–, see n. above. Cf. Tim . with Cor .–. Cor .–.
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The interpretation of Genesis in Timothy states, ‘And Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor’. This remark seems strange in light of Paul’s association of Adam with sin and death. The only time Paul mentions Eve in the undisputed letters is in Corinthians , where he remarks, ‘I am jealous regarding you with a jealousy of God, for I betrothed you to one man to present you as a chaste virgin to Christ. But I fear that somehow your thoughts may be corrupted from the simplicity and chastity that lead to Christ, as the serpent deceived Eve with his trickery’. Both passages seem to presuppose a legendary expansion of Genesis –, according to which Eve was seduced by Satan and bore Cain, who was therefore a child of Satan. The use of this legend with its sexual connotation of ‘deceived’ explains how the author can say, ‘Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived’. This legend then provides a transition to the final statement of this instruction about women, ‘But [woman] will be saved through the act of childbearing, if [women] remain in faithfulness and love and holiness with self-control’. This application of the legend about Eve and Satan to the situation of women in the church seems to imply a principle that could be formulated as follows: by the means with which someone sins, by that is one saved. As Eve sinned by having illicit sexual relations and bearing a child, so the women of the church will be saved from the sinful heritage of Eve by having proper sexual relations within marriage, bearing children, and living a faithful, chaste life. This principle is related to the logic of punishment found in some extra-canonical Jewish and Christian works. In these works, there is a mirror-like relation between the sin committed on earth and the punishment in hell. In the Apocalypse of Peter, for example, the visionary sees in the place of punishment those who have blasphemed the way of righteousness. They are ‘hanging by their tongues’, and ‘under them was laid fire, blazing and tormenting them’.
Tim .. Rom .; Cor .. Cor .–. Dibelius and Conzelmann, Pastoral Epistles, –. For later forms of this legend, see Louis Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews ( vols.; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, , , ) .–; the sources for Ginzberg’s narrative are given in nn. – (.–). For an apparently related form of the legend, see the Secret Book according to John (NHC II, ) .–; for an English translation, see Bentley Layton, The Gnostic Scriptures (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, ) ; Frederik Wisse, ‘The Apocryphon of John’, The Nag Hammadi Library in English (ed. James M. Robinson; San Francisco: Harper, d ed. ) – (–); or Karen L. King, The Secret Revelation of John (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ) . Tim .. Dibelius and Conzelmann formulate it as ‘quo quis peccat, eo salvatur’ (Pastoral Epistles, ). Apoc. Pet. (Akhmim); translation from C. Detlef G. Müller, ‘Apocalypse of Peter’, New Testament Apocrypha (ed. Schneemelcher) .. On mirror punishments, see Callie
The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy
As we have seen, the instruction about marriage and the leadership of women in the church in Timothy can be illuminated by comparison with the teaching of Marcion. Elsewhere, however, the fictional Paul seems to respond to specific rival teachers in addition to Marcion. Near the beginning of the letter, the author gives an example of the kind of teaching about which he wishes to warn the audience: Just as I exhorted you to remain in Ephesus while I went to Macedonia, (so I now appeal to you) to forbid some people to give divergent teaching, to forbid them to pay attention to myths and endless genealogies that lead to speculations rather than to the plan of God, which (one finds) in faith.
Later in the letter, the fictional Paul similarly instructs Timothy, ‘Reject worthless myths such as old women tell’. Like the charge of ‘talking nonsense’ in the section on widows, the notion of ‘old wives’ tales’ here is used to denigrate the stories told by rival teachers. This feminizing of their teaching was probably intended as an act of shaming. Finally, at the end of the letter, the author appeals to the fictional Timothy: Timothy, guard the deposit, turning away from the worthless, empty chatter and contradictions of knowledge, falsely so-called. Some have missed the mark with regard to the faith by professing such knowledge.
Plato and Plutarch composed ‘myths’ or ‘stories’ as supplements to their philosophical arguments. These stories made a philosophical or ethical point in a way that grasped the imagination and moved the emotions of their audiences. Most later Platonic philosophers did not compose their own myths but focused on the interpretation of Plato’s, for example Plotinus and Porphyry. The last named philosophers attacked some gnostic writings as containing, not helpful stories, but lying myths or fabrications.
Callon, ‘Sorcery, Wheels, and Mirror Punishments’, Journal of Early Christian Studies () –. Tim .-. Tim .. Tim .–. E.g., Plato Resp. .– (a-d); cf. Plato Phaedo e; Plutarch De genio Socratis; De facie quae in orbe lunae apparet; De sera numinis vindicta; cf. Plutarch De Iside et Osiride (e–a). Plotinus Ennead .; Porphyry Vita Plotini . I avoid the term ‘Gnosticism’ as problematic; see Michael A. Williams, Rethinking ‘Gnosticism’: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University, ); Karen L. King, What Is Gnosticism? (Cambridge, MA: Belknap of Harvard University, ). I continue to use the terms ‘gnostic’ and ‘Gnosis’ for convenience.
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It appears that the author of Timothy already refers to early gnostic teachings. One of the earliest gnostic works known to us is the Secret Book according to John. Like Marcion’s teaching, this work distinguishes between the highest God and a lower, ignorant creator God. Before the creation of the material world, the highest, unknowable God emitted ‘a hypostasis, or second being, and through successive phases of emission produce[d] a carefully structured series of other beings. These many emanations are called’ aeons, a term that refers simultaneously to places and periods of time. In gnostic texts, the aeons are also abstractions, signified by their particular names, for example, Forethought. The last of the aeons to be produced is called Wisdom. All of these emanations constitute ‘the structure of the divine world in its glorious complexity’. If the author of Timothy had heard an account of divine emanations even only somewhat similar to the text of the Secret Book according to John, it is easy to see how he could construe it in the pejorative phrase, ‘endless genealogies’. This type of gnostic text can also explain the polemic against ‘myths’. The Secret Book according to John includes a myth or story about how the creation of the material world came about. The last aeon, Wisdom, ‘wanted to show forth within herself an image, without the spirit’s [will]; and her consort did not consent’. ‘And out of her was shown forth an imperfect product, that was different from her manner of appearance, for she had made it without her consort’. This imperfect product is the maker of the universe and of Adam and Eve. He is called ‘Ialtabaoth’ but is, at the same time, an interpretation of Plato’s Demiurge and of the creator God of the Hebrew Bible. This story, or set of stories, could well be called ‘myths’. The gnostics evaluated such stories positively, whereas others, perhaps including the author of Layton allows that ‘the characteristic gnostic myth of creation turns out to resemble philosophical mythic speculation already current in the time of Jesus’ (Gnostic Scriptures, ). Michael Wolter and Jens Herzer have rightly argued that Timothy reflects knowledge of Gnosis or a gnostic milieu; Wolter, Die Pastoralbriefe als Paulustradition (FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –; Herzer, ‘Juden—Christen—Gnostiker’, – (– ). Also known as the Apocryphon of John and the Secret Revelation of John. Ismo Dunderberg concludes that Valentinus ‘was familiar with the Apocryphon of John or other Sethian traditions’; see Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism: Myth, Lifestyle, and Society in the School of Valentinus (New York: Columbia University, ) . See the discussion of Valentinus below. Barbara Aland, ‘Marcion (ca. –)/Marcioniten’, TRE () – [section ]. Reprinted in her Was Ist Gnosis? Studien zum frühen Christentum, zu Marcion und zur kaiserzeitlichen Philosophie (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, . Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, ; see also –. See also King, Secret Revelation of John, –. Secret Book according to John (NHC II, ) .-; .–; translation from Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, . Four ancient copies of this work have come down to us; for discussion see King, Secret Revelation of John, –, n. . Secret Book according to John, .; cf. .–. with Plato Timaeus and Gen –.
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Timothy, saw them as fabrications in a negative sense. The fictional Paul urged teachers to avoid such inquiries or searches for knowledge and to focus instead on the divine order found in the faith. After the warning against ‘myths and endless genealogies’ in ch. , the author goes on to say that some have deviated from this divine order and its aims ‘and turned aside to foolish talk, wishing to be teachers of the Law, understanding neither what they are saying nor the things about which they speak so confidently’. The context suggests that this statement is a polemic against those who teach ‘myths’ and ‘endless genealogies’. It may well be that the author is challenging an interpretation of Genesis, the first book of the Law, offered by some gnostics. In addition to the supplementary ‘myths’ about the highest God, the aeon called Wisdom, and Ialtabaoth, the Secret Book according to John reads the story of Genesis against the grain. The creator and his assistants allowed Adam to eat of all the trees in the garden except one. Eating the fruit of all the other trees produced desire, deception, wickedness, and death. They prevented Adam even from seeing the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because it is actually light from the heavenly world. It was the Savior, not the serpent, who caused Adam and Eve to eat of that tree! The fictional Paul exercised his creativity in reading Genesis in quite a different way. The author then continues to talk about the Law but shifts perspectives, so to speak. In the passage just discussed, the issue seems to be the interpretation of the narrative in the first chapters of Genesis. The second passage focuses primarily on the commandments and related ethical issues. In the latter passage he affirms, ‘Now we know that the Law is good, if one uses it lawfully. This means knowing that the Law is not given to the just person but to the unjust and rebellious, the impious and sinners, the unholy and worldly, those who kill their fathers or mothers, murderers, sexually immoral people’, and so forth, ‘and anything else opposed to the sound teaching in accordance with the glorious gospel of the blessed God, with which I have been entrusted’. This argument makes little sense if we interpret it as a response to gnostics, but it does fit the context of polemic against Marcion. That early Christian teacher wrote a work called the Contradictions or Antitheses. It was composed as a guide to or defense of Marcion’s interpretation of the Bible. The title refers to the opposing statements representing the Jewish scriptures and the teaching of I agree with Baur’s argument that ‘teachers of the Law’ here does not mean those who interpret the Law as a guide for living life but rather those who study the Law in order to determine the correct understanding of it in a wider sense (Pastoralbriefe, –). Tim .–. According to King, the Secret Book according to John is an interpretation of the opening chapters of Genesis (Secret Revelation of John, –). Secret Book according to John, .–.. Tim .–.
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Jesus respectively. These oppositions supported his teaching that there were two Gods and all that follows from that claim. Thus it may also have contained inferences from the opposing statements and exegetical discussions. The first antithesis in Adolf von Harnack’s reconstruction reads, ‘The Demiurge was known to Adam and to the following generations; the Father of Christ, however, is unknown, as Christ himself said of him in the following words, “No one knows the Father except the Son”.’ Marcion considered the God of the Jewish scriptures, which Christians eventually called the Old Testament, the creator God, to be inferior to the God who is the Father of Christ. He portrayed the God of the Old Testament as ignorant, violent, and concerned about justice and judgment. The God of Christ is an unknown, alien God who is far beyond, and thus has nothing to do with, this world. Nevertheless, out of love and compassion, this God sent Christ to bring all who belong to him to a heavenly and eternal place of rest. Marcion ‘rejected the Old Testament, not as untrue but as non-Christian’. The prophecies that other Christians interpreted as referring to Jesus, Marcion explained as predicting a Jewish messiah who would come at some point in the future. The Jewish messiah will gather the Jewish people together from their diaspora, whereas Christ was sent by the good God to free the entire human race. The fictional Paul of Timothy tried to justify the Jewish scriptures as Christian Scripture by reprising Paul’s argument that the Law was given to convey knowledge of sin. It is striking that the fictional Paul’s defense of the Law in ch. implies that the Law and the gospel are in harmony with one another. All the things that are contrary to the Law are also opposed to the sound teaching of the gospel. The teaching and widespread influence of Marcion made the issue of the relation of Law and gospel a hot topic, and the author of Timothy seems to address it here.
Aland, ‘Marcion/Marcioniten’, section .. Lieu thinks it unlikely that Marcion’s work included extensive commentary (‘Dispute’, ). She also takes it as ‘a strong possibility’ that the antitheses, especially ‘Law against Gospel’, ‘are as much the projection of Tertullian’s own mentalité’ as Marcion’s (; cf. ). Harnack, Marcion, (Antithesis I). Harnack, Marcion, – (Antitheses II, III, VIII, XIX). Harnack, Marcion, (Antithesis XXX). Evans, Tertullian, xiv. See also E. C. Blackman, Marcion and His Influence (London: SPCK, ) –, –, –; Blackman also notes that Marcion rejected allegorical interpretation (–). Harnack, Marcion, (Antithesis XXIX), ; Blackman, Marcion, . Irenaeus attempted to refute this argument in Haer. .. Harnack, Marcion, (Antithesis XVIII). Gal .; Rom .. As Baur rightly noted (Pastoralbriefe, ).
The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy
As argued above, there is evidence for polemic against both gnostics and Marcion at the beginning of the letter. It has also been noted that attention returns to the gnostics at the end of the letter: ‘Timothy, guard the deposit, turning away from the worthless, empty chatter and contradictions of knowledge, falsely so-called’. There may be a subtle allusion here also to Marcion in the phrase ‘contradictions of knowledge, falsely so-called’. Ferdinand Christian Baur argued that Marcion was the only gnostic who could be accused of teaching ‘contradictions’ or ‘contrary oppositions’. Harnack, however, emphasized the differences between Marcion and the gnostics. Barbara Aland has articulated a reasonable compromise in her view that Marcion cannot be understood apart from Gnosis. In any case, if we take the final exhortation to the fictional Timothy as a kind of rhetorical peroration, it would make sense to conclude that the author would try to refer in this final statement to both of the most important rival Christian teachings of his environment. He refers to the gnostics clearly with the phrase ‘knowledge, falsely so-called’, alluding at the same time to Marcion’s famous work with the word ἀντιθέσ1ις. No doubt a variety of factors in the author’s environment contributed to the views expressed in Timothy about women, marriage, and female leadership. In . the fictional Paul is explicitly concerned with what outsiders will think about the overseers or bishops. It is less clear that he is so concerned with regard to the ‘younger widows’ or virgins. Nevertheless, the views of elite Greeks of his time may have had an effect on his discourse about the practices involving women and thus the female body. Paul advocated female modesty in his arguments in favor of women covering their heads in gatherings of the community. The author of Timothy follows suit in the following instructions: I want…the women to adorn themselves with appropriate clothing, with modesty and self-control, not with stylish braids and gold ornaments or pearls or expensive apparel but with that which is fitting for women who profess reverence for God, namely, good works. Baur, Pastoralbriefe, –, citing Tertullian adv. Marc. .; .. ‘Contrary oppositions’ is Evans’s translation of Tertullian’s ‘Antitheses Marcionis’ (Tertullian, –). Harnack, Marcion, *. As noted above, he argued that Tim .- may allude to Marcion but took it as a later addition to the letter (*–* n. ). Barbara Aland, ‘Marcion: Versuch einer neuen Interpretation’, ZThK () – (). Reprinted in Aland, Gnosis, – (). For a discussion of Roman mores regarding marriage, see Kate (Catherine Fales) Cooper, The Fall of the Roman Household (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ). Cor .–, . Tim ., –. Korinna Zamfir and Joseph Verheyden argue that not only βούλομαι but the phrase βούλομαι προσ1ύχ1σθαι should be supplied to fill the ellipsis in v. ; ‘Text-Critical and Intertextual Remarks on Tim .–’, NovT () –. They also argue that
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Plutarch’s work, Advice to the Bride and Groom, may serve here as representative of contemporary values of elite Greek culture on this point: ‘Adornment’, said Crates, ‘is what adorns’; and what adorns a woman is what makes her better ordered—not gold nor emerald nor scarlet, but whatever gives an impression of dignity, discipline, and modesty.
Paul, or a later editor of Corinthians, declared, ‘It is shameful for a woman to speak in an assembly’. The Pastoral Paul taught, ‘Let a woman learn in silence and in full subordination; I do not permit a woman to teach or to have power over a man, but to be in silence’. Plutarch wrote: Theano [the wife of Pythagoras] once exposed her hand as she was arranging her cloak. ‘What a beautiful arm’, said someone. ‘But not public property’, she replied. Not only the arms but the words of a modest woman must never be public property. She should be shy with her speech as with her body, and guard it against strangers. Feelings, character, and disposition can all be seen in a woman’s talk. Phidias’s statue of Aphrodite at Elis has her foot resting on a turtle, to symbolize homekeeping and silence. A wife should speak only to her husband or through her husband, and should not feel aggrieved if, like a piper, she makes nobler music through another’s tongue…. If [wives] submit to their husbands, they are praised. If they try to rule them, they cut a worse figure than their subjects. But the husband should rule his wife, not as a master rules his slave, but as the soul rules the body, sharing her feelings and growing together with her in affection. That is the just way. One can care for one’s body without being a slave to its pleasures and desires; and one can rule a wife while giving her enjoyment and kindness.
Cor .– is an important pre-text for Tim .-. For an interpretation of this passage from the point of view of ancient Mediterranean women, see Alicia J. Batten, ‘Neither Gold nor Braided Hair ( Timothy .; Peter .): Adornment, Gender and Honour in Antiquity’, NTS () –. Plutarch Coniug. praec. (e); translation by Donald Russell in Sarah B. Pomeroy, ed., Plutarch’s Advice to the Bride and Groom and A Consolation to His Wife: English Translations, Commentary, Interpretive Essays, and Bibliography (New York: Oxford, ) . Cor .b. Tim .–. Plutarch Coniug. praec. – (c-e) (trans. Russell) –. For a discussion of the two passages cited here in literary and historical context, see Sarah B. Pomeroy, ‘Reflections on Plutarch, Advice to the Bride and Groom: Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed’, Plutarch’s Advice (ed. Pomeroy) –; Simon Swain, ‘Plutarch’s Moral Program’, Plutarch’s Advice (ed. Pomeroy) – and the other essays in the volume. See especially the one by Jo Ann McNamara, who contrasts Plutarch’s age with that of Plato and compares Christian values with those of Plutarch (‘Gendering Virtue’, Plutarch’s Advice [ed. Pomeroy] –).
The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy
Plutarch, however, unlike the main rival teaching addressed in Timothy, did not oppose marriage. On the contrary, his concern was to instruct a bride and groom on how to cultivate a good marriage. He and the fictional Paul shared the positive evaluation of marriage and some of the same values concerning the regulation of the female body and female behavior. The Secret Book according to John uses language and images of procreation in order to describe the harmonious heavenly world. These images characterize reproduction in the divine realm as taking place through acts of mental will. Reproduction in the lower world is sharply contrasted with that of the upper. The lower rulers procreate through ignorance, arrogance, and lust, through violence and deception. In the lower world, however, there can also be imitation of the divine ideal, represented by Adam and Eve’s procreation of Seth. The situation seems to be similar in the thinking and practices of the Valentinians. The Valentinians apparently practiced marriage and sexual intercourse. These were appropriate acts in their view, if the purpose was procreation rather than the satisfaction of desire. According to the Gospel of Philip, a Valentinian text, there are human marriages of impurity and marriages of purity. The pure marriages are those that belong, not to desire, but to will, those that involve pure thoughts rather than merely carnal activity. The Christian philosopher and teacher, Valentinus, and perhaps others whose teaching contributed to the rise of the varied gnostic groups, was well known in the first half of the second century. Valentinus recommended ‘detachment
Lisette Goessler has argued that Plutarch’s Dialogue on Love (Erotikos/Amatorius) stands in the tradition of the topos ‘concerning marriage’ (π1ρὶ γάμου), in particular in the tradition of the rhetorical discussion of the question whether it is necessary to marry (1ἰ γαμητέον), and that Plutarch’s answer is affirmative; Plutarchs Gedanken über die Ehe (Zürich: Buchdruckerei Berichthaus, ) –. See also the translation of selected sections of her book in Pomeroy, ed., Plutarch’s Advice, –. On the Amatorius and similar works, see Frederick E. Brenk, ‘Most Beautiful and Divine: Graeco-Romans (especially Plutarch) and Paul on Love and Marriage’, Biblical and New Testament Genres and Themes in the Context of Greco-Roman Literature (ed. David E. Aune and Frederick E. Brenk; NovTSup; Leiden: Brill, forthcoming). I am grateful to him for making this essay available to me. Secret Book according to John .–.; .–; .–.; .–.. In a forthcoming article, ‘Reading Sex and Gender in the Secret Revelation of John’, JECS (), Karen L. King has articulated both the contrast in the gendered representations between the upper and lower world and the mimetic relationship between those of the upper world and those of Seth and his descendants; I am grateful to her for making it available to me. April D. DeConick, ‘The Great Mystery of Marriage: Sex and Conception in Ancient Valentinian Traditions’, VC () –. For a brief discussion of Valentinus, the Valentinians, and their interpretation of Paul, see Pervo, Making of Paul, –. DeConick, ‘Mystery of Marriage’, . On Valentinus as a Christian theologian, see Christoph Markschies, Valentinus Gnosticus? Untersuchungen zur valentinianischen Gnosis mit einem Kommentar zu den Fragmenten
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from the world…but how radical a change in lifestyle he expected is unclear’. He recommended self-control, especially over ‘improper desires’, and taught that the right mental disposition would lead to a lifestyle ‘characterized by stability, inner freedom’, and peace of mind. There is no evidence I know of to indicate that he forbade or even discouraged marriage. On the contrary, there is reason to believe that he evaluated it positively. The concluding lines of his work Summer Harvest read as follows: ‘Crops rushing forth from the deep/A babe rushing forth from the womb’. Christoph Markschies and Ismo Dunderberg agree that these lines may be understood literally: ‘the divine order can be seen in the fruits of matter and equally in pregnancy of mothers and in fertility of the earth’. Clement of Alexandria supports this conclusion, stating, ‘The sect of Valentinus justify physical union from heaven from divine emanations, and approve of marriage’. The author of Timothy justifies marriage on different grounds: his reading of the early chapters of Genesis and his selective appropriation of the teaching of Paul. He justifies the marriage of the ‘younger widows’ or virgins on practical grounds as a means of limiting the spread of teaching with which he disagrees. An effect of all this is his construction of an identity for his audience. This identity involves a positive evaluation of the practice of marriage. He thus shares a value with Plutarch and probably with Valentinus as well. Like Plutarch, the Pastoral Paul also advocates female modesty, the silence of women in public, and their subordination to men. They differ in their justifications, but agree in practice. Plutarch appeals to Theano, the wife of a famous philosopher, and to the sculpture of Pheidias. The author of Timothy explicitly claims the authority of Paul for this teaching by writing in his name and implicitly by allusion to the letters of Paul and to ‘the Law’, that is, Genesis. The reference, however, to those who ‘forbid marriage’ and the strong emphasis on marriage in
Valentins (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). See also Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, –. Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism, . Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism, . Translation from Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, . Markschies, Valentinus, –; Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism, . The quotation is Dunderberg’s translation of a statement by Markschies (). Clement Stromateis ...; translation from Ferguson, Stromateis Books One to Three, . See also Ptolemy’s Letter to Flora ..–, where it is implied that at least some Valentinians practice physical fasts, as a reminder of the true fast, which consists of abstinence from evil deeds. The Treatise on the Resurrection (Epistle to Rheginus) states that practicing many kinds of continence leads to release from this element (the body) and possibly from reincarnation (Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, n. h). It is not clear exactly what kinds of practices are meant (, lines –). I am grateful to Ismo Dunderberg for bringing the last two references to my attention.
The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy
Timothy make most sense if the letter was written, at least in part, in conscious opposition to Marcion. The rhetoric in Timothy advocating practices for women involving dress and adornment, silence and subordination rather than leadership, and marriage rather than sexual continence implies a social space in which the autonomy of women, including control of their own bodies, is severely limited. This social space that limits options for women is also a polemical space aimed at curtailing the spread of Marcion’s movement. The Pastoral Paul focused on practices opposed to those associated with the definition of the Jewish scriptures as nonChristian and a theology involving a God other than the creator.
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000366
Matthew’s Use of Mark: Did Matthew Intend to Supplement or to Replace His Primary Source?* DAV I D C. S I M School of Theology/Centre for Early Christian Studies, Australian Catholic University, Locked Bag 4115, Fitzroy, Victoria 3065, Australia. email:
[email protected]
Most scholars acknowledge Matthew’s debt to Mark in the composition of his own Gospel, and they are fully aware of his extensive redaction and expansion of this major source. Yet few scholars pose what is an obvious question that arises from these points: What was Matthew’s intention for Mark once he had composed and circulated his own revised and enlarged account of Jesus’ mission? Did he intend to supplement Mark, in which case he wished his readers to continue to consult Mark as well as his own narrative, or was it his intention to replace the earlier Gospel? It is argued in this study that the evidence suggests that Matthew viewed Mark as seriously flawed, and that he wrote his own Gospel to replace the inadequate Marcan account. Keywords: Matthew, Mark, supplement, replace, revision, expansion
. Introduction
One of the more assured results of modern Synoptic criticism is that of Marcan priority. The vast majority of scholars today accept with no hesitation
* This study is dedicated to the memory of Graham N. Stanton, whose work on the Gospel of Matthew continues to illuminate and inspire. The major dissenting voices are from the proponents of the neo-Griesbach or Two Gospel Hypothesis. This theory, which has its origins in the eighteenth century, holds that Matthew was written first, that Luke made use of Matthew, and then Mark both abbreviated and conflated these two Gospels. The classic defence of this hypothesis in modern times is that of W. R. Farmer, The Synoptic Problem: A Critical Analysis (Dillsboro: Western North Carolina, d ed. ). See too his later The Gospel of Jesus: The Pastoral Relevance of the Synoptic Problem (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ). The neo-Griesbach Hypothesis has found a number of adherents over the past few decades, but it has been most vigorously defended in recent times by a number of Farmer’s former students. See in particular A. J. McNicol, ed., with D. L. Dungan and D. B. Peabody, Beyond the Q Impasse: Luke’s Use of Matthew
Matthew’s Use of Mark
the proposition that Mark was written first and that it was used as a major source by the authors of Matthew and Luke. Some dissension exists within this consensus position over the nature of the non-Marcan material shared by these later evangelists. While most scholars continue to hold some version of the Q hypothesis to explain the presence of this shared material in these Gospels, a small minority maintains that Q is insupportable and that the phenomenon in question can be explained on the hypothesis that Luke used Matthew in addition to Mark. This disagreement among Marcan priorists need not detain us further, since in this study our primary concern is Matthew’s use of Mark and not his utilisation of Q or any other source. Once it is agreed that Matthew knew and used Mark in the composition of his own Gospel, a number of obvious questions emerge: How did Matthew utilise his Marcan source? What aspects of Mark did he take over, and which elements did he edit or even omit? Why did Matthew see the necessity to expand Mark as much as he did? Matthean redaction critics have spent the best part of sixty years responding to these sorts of questions, though of course their answers have not always been in accord. But the hypothesis that Matthew used Mark raises further questions over and above his treatment of this major source. What intentions did the evangelist have for the earlier Gospel after he had completed his own narrative about Jesus of Nazareth? Was his own text written to supplement Mark, in which case he planned or hoped that his intended readers would read both Gospels? Alternatively, was it Matthew’s goal to replace Mark? Did he produce and circulate his own text with the specific intention that his readers would see no necessity to consult the Marcan account once his own Gospel was available? This topic of Matthew’s intentions for Mark, as opposed to his treatment of Mark, is rarely raised in the scholarly forum. This is somewhat surprising, since
(Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, ), and D. B. Peabody, ed., with L. Cope and A. J. McNicol, One Gospel From Two: Mark’s Use of Matthew and Luke (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, ). For an early statement of this view, see A. M. Farrer, ‘On Dispensing with Q’, Studies in the Gospels: Essays in Memory of R. H. Lightfoot (ed. D. E. Nineham; Oxford: Blackwell, ) –. Farrer’s hypothesis was extensively reproduced, defended and extended in the many works of M. D. Goulder. Goulder’s major contribution to Matthean studies is his Midrash and Lection in Matthew (London: SPCK, ), which deals with Matthew’s expansion of Mark without recourse to the Q hypothesis. In recent times the major defender of this view has been M. Goodacre, who rejects some of Goulder’s more exotic views but still accepts the general principle that Matthew used Mark while Luke knew both of these texts. See M. Goodacre, Goulder and the Gospels: An Examination of a New Paradigm (JSNTSup ; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ); Goodacre, The Synoptic Problem: A Way Through the Maze (TBS ; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ); Goodacre, The Case Against Q: Studies in Markan Priority and the Synoptic Problem (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, ). Cf. too M. Goodacre and N. Perrin, eds., Questioning Q (London: SPCK, ).
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it is surely an obvious question to pose for any author who has made extensive use of an earlier source. It is even more surprising in so far as this issue has been raised in relation to the two other later evangelists, Luke and John. In both cases there has been some debate over whether these writers were motivated to compose their Gospels to supplement or to supplant their sources. Yet, for some reason, Matthew has largely been immune from such enquiry and debate. It is the purpose of this study to put this neglected subject into the foreground. The discussion will begin with Matthew’s treatment of his Marcan source. Here we will note the evangelist’s debt to Mark as well as the serious failings that he identified in that Gospel. These deficiencies include its crude language, short length, offensive features and the fact that Mark was simply inadequate to meet the very different needs of Matthew’s own Jewish Christian community towards the end of the first century. Moreover, Matthew had real concerns that Mark’s depiction of Jesus’ mission was written from a patently Pauline perspective. All of these factors led Matthew to compose his own version of Jesus’ story that corrected, expanded and updated the inadequate and incorrect Marcan account. Once he had done so, the Gospel of Mark simply had no role to play among Matthew’s intended readership. In trying to replace his primary source, Matthew was not unique. It will be argued that both Luke and John were similarly motivated to replace Mark with their own Gospel narratives.
. Matthew’s Treatment of Mark
The first point to establish is Matthew’s precise use of his Marcan source. On any theory of Marcan priority, the conclusion is inescapable that Matthew was indebted to Mark in a number of ways. He adopted fully the Gospel genre that Mark had seemingly initiated, and followed the general Marcan story-line of a Galilean mission preceding the climactic events in Jerusalem. With respect to the order of events, Matthew made some changes to Mark in the first half of his narrative, but retained the Marcan order from . (cf. Mark .) onwards. Matthew’s debt to Mark is also evident in the fact that he included in one way or another most of Mark’s content in his own depiction of Jesus’ life and mission. The exact percentage of material he adopted depends upon a number of R. C. Beaton, ‘How Matthew Writes’, The Written Gospel (ed. M. Bockmuehl and D. A. Hagner; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) – (). See W. C. Allen, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to S. Matthew (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, d ed. ) xiii–xvii. Cf. too Beaton, ‘How Matthew Writes’, n. , and W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew (ICC; vols.; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, , , ) .-. Other scholars posit that Matthew began to follow Mark’s order without deviation even earlier than .. U. Luz contends that this begins at .; see U. Luz, Matthew –: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, rev. ed. ) .
Matthew’s Use of Mark
ambiguous and subjective factors. Matthew had a tendency to abbreviate Marcan narratives, and in some cases it is not easy to draw the line between the severe abbreviation or modification of a pericope and its complete omission. Moreover, the so-called Mark/Q overlaps present a further set of problems. It is often difficult to decide whether Marcan material has been omitted and replaced by a parallel Q tradition, or whether Matthew has used and conflated his two sources. Another factor affecting this issue is the possibility that the evangelist has dropped individual verses or whole pericopes but has then incorporated some of this material elsewhere in his Gospel. While a glance at a Greek synopsis reveals that Matthew has omitted Mark ., –, –; .; .b–; .–, –; .; .–, –; .–; ., –, –; .–; .–; .–, a good case can be made that certain parts of these traditions reappear in other Matthean texts. All of these considerations make it difficult to ascertain with any degree of certainty the extent of Matthew’s adoption of his Marcan material, but most scholars today follow the lead of B. H. Streeter and contend that Matthew has reproduced some % of Mark’s content. While it is clear that Matthew was largely indebted to Mark in terms of genre, order and content, it is equally apparent that he was dissatisfied with his primary source in a number of ways. First of all, the language of Mark is often simple, ungrammatical and pleonastic, and Matthew took pains to rewrite and improve the Marcan text. According to Streeter, Matthew’s editing and abbreviating of Mark’s often cumbersome language resulted in him retaining only % of Mark’s wording. Secondly, Matthew clearly felt that Mark was far too short and See the discussion of Mark/Q overlaps in B. H. Streeter, The Four Gospels: A Study of Origins (London: Macmillan, ) –. For a thorough analysis of this topic, see Streeter, Four Gospels, –. Cf. too J. Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew (NIGTC; Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, ) . Streeter, Four Gospels, . Cf. too D. A. Hagner, Matthew – (WBC A; Dallas: Word, ) xlvii; B. Witherington, Matthew (SHBC; Macon: Smyth & Helwys, ) , and D. L. Turner, Matthew (BECNT; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ) . Beaton, ‘How Matthew Writes’, , prefers the slightly lower figure of %. So too R. E. Brown, An Introduction to the New Testament (ABRL; New York: Doubleday, ) . See the definitive discussion in Allen, Matthew, xix-xxxi. Streeter, Four Gospels, . In general agreement with Streeter are Witherington, Matthew, ; Turner, Matthew, , and A. M. Honoré, ‘A Statistical Study of the Synoptic Problem’, The Synoptic Problem and Q: Selected Studies from Novum Testamentum (ed. D. E. Orton; Leiden: Brill, ) – (–). D. Baum also concurs with a figure of %, but he notes that Matthew is not consistent in his retention of Marcan wording. In some traditions the verbal agreement is high, while in others it is much lower. See his ‘Matthew’s Sources: Written or Oral? A Rabbinic Analogy and Empirical Insights’, Built Upon the Rock: Studies in the Gospel of Matthew (ed. D. M. Gurtner and J. Nolland; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) – (–). Other scholars calculate a much higher percentage. J. B. Tyson and T. W. Longstaff, Synoptic Abstract (The Computer Bible ; Wooster: College of Wooster, ) –, estimate that Matthew has taken over as much as % of Mark’s wording. That
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lacked detail in terms of narratives about Jesus and the teachings of Jesus. He therefore inserted the genealogy and infancy narratives at the beginning of his Gospel and the resurrection appearance traditions at the end, and he greatly supplemented the teachings of Jesus by incorporating material from Q and other sources. Thirdly, despite retaining the greater bulk of Mark, Matthew did omit a number of whole pericopes, and it must be assumed that he did so because he found these traditions either irrelevant, unhelpful or offensive. A good example here is his omission of the healing of the blind man at Bethsaida in Mark .– . Matthew presumably dropped this miracle story on the grounds that he was unimpressed by Jesus’ use of saliva and that he required two attempts to effect the cure; the evangelist had earlier omitted Mark .–, which also mentions spittle as a curative aid. Fourthly, Matthew often edited the Marcan texts he did retain either to remove offence or to correct unpalatable theological features in Mark’s account. In Mark . Jesus is unable to work miracles in Nazareth, while the Matthean parallel in . states that he did not do many miracles. Similarly, Mark .b- maintains that the family of Jesus thought he was possessed by a demon, a sin that is later condemned as unforgiveable (.–), but Matthew removes this slur on Jesus’ family by omitting Mark .b-, leaving only the scribes from Jerusalem as those guilty of an eternal sin (.–). In this context we should include Matthew’s correction of the Marcan depiction of Jesus’ attitude towards the Torah. It is well known that Mark had a rather liberal attitude towards the ritual demands of the Torah, and this is well illustrated in the tradition concerning purity in Mark .–. Mark betrayed his understanding of Jesus’ teaching in this episode when he appended in v. b, ‘thus he declared all foods clean’, thereby highlighting that Jesus abrogated the Jewish dietary laws. Matthew’s
high percentage is based upon their calculation that Matthew adopted all but of Mark’s , words. Similar views are presented by R. H. Stein, Studying the Synoptic Gospels: Origin and Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, d ed. ) –, and D. A. Carson and D. J. Moo, An Introduction to the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, ) . According to Beaton, ‘How Matthew Writes’, n. , Matthew adopted % of Mark’s words. This percentage is reached on the basis of Beaton’s estimation that Matthew reproduced , of the , words in Mark. These much higher percentages reflect different approaches to the phenomenon in question. See Honoré, ‘Statistical Study’, –. So D. A. Hagner, Matthew – (WBC B; Dallas: Word, ) –. See Allen, Matthew, xxxi-xxxiii for full discussion of this aspect of Matthew’s redaction. For detailed analyses of the Torah in Mark’s Gospel, see W. R. G. Loader, Jesus’ Attitude Toward the Law: A Study of the Gospels (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) – , and more recently, B. Repschinski, Nicht aufzulösen, sondern zu erfüllen: Das jüdische Gesetz in den synoptischen Jesuserzählungen (FzB ; Würzburg: Echter, ) –.
Matthew’s Use of Mark
perspective was rather different. The Matthean Jesus spells out clearly in .– that all of the Mosaic Law without exception is to be obeyed until the parousia, and it is expected that his followers will obey the Torah and teach it to others until that time. It therefore comes as no surprise to learn that Matthew omitted completely the Marcan comment in Mark :b. In Matthew’s version of this pericope, there is no indication at all that Jesus undermined the Jewish rules regarding clean and unclean foods; the emphasis remains on the non-biblical Pharisaic practice of ritual handwashing. In line with his emphasis on the Torah, Matthew ‘rejudaised’ Mark in other ways for his Jewish Christian readership. He used the ‘Kingdom of the Heavens’ in preference to the ‘Kingdom of God’, and he employed the formula quotations to root Jesus more firmly in the sacred history of Israel. Fifthly, there is sound evidence that Matthew deemed Mark to be sadly inadequate for meeting the specific needs of his own community at the end of the first century. He therefore updated Mark’s story of Jesus to make it more relevant to the situation of his intended readers and more helpful to meet their particular requirements. An obvious example of this phenomenon is the evangelist’s tendency to intensify the opposition between Jesus and the scribes and Pharisees, which reflects his community’s own conflict with Formative Judaism. A second example is Matthew’s major focus on eschatological matters, especially the horrific fate of the wicked, who are destined to be punished by eternal fire in Gehenna (cf. .–; .; .; .–, –; .–; .). This rather unpleasant Matthean theme can be explained by the fact that his persecuted community had embraced a Jewish sectarian perspective with a concomitant Jewish eschatological response.
See the analyses in Loader, Jesus’ Attitude Toward the Law, –, and Repschinski, Nicht aufzulösen, sondern zu erfüllen, –. See D. C. Sim, The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism: The History and Social Setting of the Matthean Community (SNTW; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) –. Hagner, Matthew –, lxiv, and Beaton, ‘How Matthew Writes’, –. See too the recent discussion of this theme in A. M. O’Leary, Matthew’s Judaization of Mark: Examined in the Context of the Use of Sources in Graeco-Roman Antiquity (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark International, ). See especially U. Luz, Studies in Matthew (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) –. Cf. too Beaton, ‘How Matthew Writes’, –, and Hagner, Matthew –, lxv-lxxi. For a thorough analysis of this theme, see J. A. Overman, Matthew’s Gospel and Formative Judaism: The Social World of the Matthean Community (Minneapolis: Fortress, ), and, more recently, B. Repschinski, The Controversy Stories in the Gospel of Matthew: Their Redaction, Form and Relevance for the Relationship Between the Matthean Community and Formative Judaism (FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ). On this Matthean theme, see D. C. Sim, Apocalyptic Eschatology in the Gospel of Matthew (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ).
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. Matthew as a Supplement to Mark or as its Replacement?
The above discussion provides ample evidence, that despite the fact that Matthew owed a considerable debt to his Marcan source, he was none the less dissatisfied with and critical of the earlier Gospel. Having established in general terms Matthew’s treatment of Mark, we may now pose a series of further questions. What did Matthew intend to happen to Mark once he had composed and circulated his own Gospel? Was it his hope that his intended readers would consult the account in Mark and then turn to his own version of the Jesus story to fill the gaps in the Marcan narrative? Or was it the case that, once Matthew had improved and updated Mark by his additions and editorial changes, he intended to replace his primary source? It is an extraordinary state of affairs that Matthean scholarship has almost entirely neglected this whole issue. The proposition that Matthew hoped to replace Mark has been stated definitively by G. N. Stanton and R. Bauckham, but neither of these scholars provides any argumentation at all in defence of this claim. The contrary opinion is represented by U. Luz, who does attempt to provide some evidence for his view. Luz begins with the assertion that Matthew has written a conservative new story of Jesus based upon the Marcan account. He continues, ‘In this way he makes clear that his story renarrates a given story. There are no indications in Matthew’s Gospel…that he intended to replace the Markan Gospel with which…he assumed at least some of his readers to be familiar’. The logic of Luz’s argument is not immediately clear, but he seems to suggest that Matthew still envisaged a role for Mark in his own community because his intended readers were already familiar with it. Yet a closer examination of the evidence, based upon Matthew’s treatment of Mark, supports the position of Stanton and Bauckham and renders questionable the thesis of Luz. The fundamental question is as follows: What role could Mark have possibly played in the Matthean community once Matthew had published his own corrected, revised, enlarged, improved and updated edition of Mark? Since the evangelist was motivated to write and circulate his own story of Jesus to meet the specific needs of his post- Jewish Christian community, there would be no reason for his readers to continue to consult Mark when it so obviously failed to satisfy so many of their basic requirements. Surely they would have needed only Matthew’s Gospel, especially as it reflected their own theology and Christology, and it directly addressed the circumstances and challenges they were facing. The complete lack of necessity for Mark comes into even sharper focus once we recall that Matthew reproduces some % of Mark’s content. G. N. Stanton, ‘The Fourfold Gospel’, NTS () – (); R. Bauckham, ‘For Whom Were Gospels Written?’, The Gospels for All Christians: Rethinking the Gospel Audiences (ed. R. Bauckham; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) – (). Luz, Studies in Matthew, (original emphasis).
Matthew’s Use of Mark
After the publication of Matthew, Mark had very little distinctive material to offer. Why would the evangelist want his readers to consult the earlier Gospel when his own text reproduced almost all of that source and often improved upon what he did retain? The questions continue when we consider Matthew’s omission and redaction of certain Marcan passages. Why would he want his community to read of the healing of the blind man at Bethsaida in Mark .– when he himself thought it unworthy of inclusion? Why would he be content to have his readers learn that Jesus’ power was limited in Mark . when he had rewritten that Marcan text in Matt . so as not to convey that impression? Why would he want his intended readers to learn from Mark .b- that the family of Jesus’ believed he was demon-possessed after he himself deemed it so offensive that he took considerable pains to ensure that it did not appear in his parallel account? Why would Matthew think it desirable for his community to be exposed to Mark’s statement in .b that Jesus declared all foods clean when he himself clearly opposed this view and omitted the offending words, and elsewhere depicted Jesus as a Law-observant Jew? Finally, why would the evangelist desire that his readers continue to read Mark when it offered them so little in terms of their immediate and pressing needs, such as their conflict with Formative Judaism? These questions are relevant in every case where Matthew has significantly edited the text of Mark, and they cast a considerable shadow of doubt over Luz’s claim that the evangelist intended his Gospel narrative to supplement the earlier Marcan account that was known to his readers. The evidence of Matthew’s treatment of Mark demonstrates that the former did not write to supplement his primary source and did not intend that his text would be read in conjunction with it. On the contrary, the conclusion is inescapable that Matthew specifically composed his Gospel to render Mark redundant. There was simply no place for Mark amongst the evangelist’s readers once his own narrative saw the light of day. This conclusion that Matthew had serious concerns over Mark and intended to replace it does not sit easily with the common view in Matthean studies that Matthew viewed his major source as authoritative and largely stood in theological agreement with it. J. K. Riches remarks that Mark had considerable authority for Matthew, because he treated it ‘…with considerable respect and care, preserving the majority of Mark’s Gospel and incorporating even quite small snippets of Markan material into his narrative’. According to D. A. Hagner, ‘Since Matthew takes over so much of Mark, we may expect that he shares Mark’s Stanton, ‘Fourfold Gospel’, . J. K. Riches, Conflicting Mythologies: Identity Formation in the Gospels of Mark and Matthew (SNTW; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) . Cf. too D. Hill, The Gospel of Matthew (NCBC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) .
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theology’. In similar vein, R. C. Beaton states, ‘The implication is that when Matthew adopts Mark, even though adjustments are made, he embraces the Marcan tradition and theological commitments’. J. P. Meier contends that Mark’s Gospel was influential early on in Matthew’s community, and became the Gospel for liturgy, catechesis, apologetics and polemics before Matthew decided to subject it to revision and expansion. Perhaps the most detailed statement of this general position is that of U. Luz. In the opinion of Luz, Matthew is ‘…the heir of his theological fathers, Mark and Q’, though he accepts that Mark is by far the more important of these sources. Luz goes further than the other scholars by noting a number of important points of contact between these two Gospels. Matthew adopts Mark’s literary genre and so shares his source’s view that the story of Jesus is also a story for the situation of the church, a point that is highlighted in their respective emphases on the disciples and discipleship. Moreover, both authors share an interest in the miracle stories, the title ‘Son of God’, and the conflict with Israel, although Luz acknowledges that some Marcan themes, such as the messianic secret, find no place in Matthew. In evaluating these claims, it can be conceded at once that on many theological and Christological issues the two evangelists shared much in common. That is not unexpected. Both Mark and Matthew were Christians, followers of Jesus of Nazareth, and we would expect on the basis of this common affiliation that they shared some or even many theological perspectives. Both accepted Jesus as the Jewish messiah who proclaimed the coming or arrival of the Kingdom of God (or Heavens), who taught in parables, who performed miracles on a grand scale, who can be described with many titles of majesty (Son of God, Son of Man, Lord, and so on), who fulfilled the Jewish scriptures, who was opposed by many of his Jewish contemporaries, who was obedient to the will of God by dying on a cross, whose death had atoning implications, who was raised from the dead by God and thereby vindicated, and who would return in glory at the end of the age. These agreements are by any measure substantial and significant, and they should not be ignored or played down. They testify that Matthew and Mark shared a common Christian narrative and that the former was content to adopt and often expand these themes when they appeared in his source. Yet, in noting the common ground between Mark and Matthew, we should never lose sight of their fundamental differences that are evident in Matthew’s Hagner, Matthew –, lx. Beaton, ‘How Matthew Writes’, . J. P. Meier, ‘Antioch’, R. E. Brown and J. P. Meier, Antioch and Rome (New York: Paulist, ) – (–). Similarly Luz, Matthew –, . Luz, Matthew –, . Luz, Studies in Matthew, , . Luz, Matthew –, .
Matthew’s Use of Mark
redaction of his Marcan source. Whatever value Matthew placed on Mark, he still viewed it as an inadequate presentation of Jesus’ story that required correction, improvement and expansion, and which needed to be updated to meet the needs of his intended readership. Once we acknowledge and understand the extent of Matthew’s dissatisfaction with Mark on a wide variety of issues, the common view that the former largely embraced and affirmed the outlook of the latter looks decidedly shaky. This point can and should be pushed further. In the quotes of Hagner, Beaton and Luz cited above, the claim is made that Matthew substantially accepted Mark’s theological perspective. While it is clear that these two Christians shared a good deal in common, as noted above, it is questionable whether they shared a similar theological position in the context of a diverse early Christian movement. Let us return to a point made earlier. The two evangelists had completely opposing views concerning Jesus’ attitude towards the Torah and, by extension, its role in the Christian community that succeeded him. The Marcan Jesus has a very liberal take on the Mosaic Law, especially its ritual requirements, and as Mark made clear in his comment in .b Jesus dispensed with the Jewish dietary and purity regulations. By contrast, the Matthean Jesus declares that all the Mosaic Law, even its least components, was to be observed until the parousia (.–), and the evangelist carefully edited his sources so that his Jesus always acts in accordance with the Torah. This difference between the two evangelists must be viewed within a broader context. The issue of the Law’s importance and relevance was hardly a minor matter in the fledgling Christian movement. It was in fact an issue that led to serious divisions in the early church, especially between the Jerusalem church and Paul. One might even state that it was the single most divisive issue in the first Christian century, as the followers of Jesus debated the place of the Sinai covenant in the light of the messiah’s appearance and the crucial matter of Christian identity. The one and only meeting in the first century between the different Christian factions, the so-called apostolic council, was convened in response to this matter (Acts .), and both Paul and Luke testify that the only issue under discussion was the role of the Torah in the Christian tradition. The very same problem lay behind the incident at Antioch (Gal .–), which was instigated by James attempting to impose the Torah on Gentile converts and which resulted in a public confrontation between Peter and Paul. It was again this matter alone that underlay the problems in Galatia and it perhaps features as well in the Corinthian and Philippian epistles. We also find this issue in the post-Pauline period. It appears in the letter to the Colossians, the Pastoral See Sim, Matthew and Christian Judaism, –. For a more recent and more detailed analysis, see I. J. Elmer, Paul, Jerusalem and the Judaisers: The Galatian Crisis in its Broader Historical Context (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ).
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Epistles, the letter of James, and even in the epistles of Ignatius of Antioch in the early second century. The question of the role of the Torah in the Christian movement was thus a live and extremely divisive issue throughout the first century, and Mark and Matthew were not immune from this conflict. They stood on either side of what was clearly an emotive and often polemical debate, and full weight must be given to this important disagreement between them when evaluating the theological perspectives of these evangelists. While there is no doubt that these evangelists shared a common Christian narrative, the claim that Matthew simply embraced Mark’s theological agenda ignores not only their different views concerning the Law but also the importance of this disagreement within its broader Christian context. Whatever value Mark possessed in the eyes of Matthew, it was nonetheless fundamentally flawed by its representation of Jesus’ teachings on the Torah. This point leads to a further consideration. An important trend in Marcan studies is that Mark wrote his Gospel from a clear Pauline perspective and depicted Jesus as reinforcing Paul’s later claims about himself and his theology. This can be inferred not simply from his agreements with Paul on the role and validity of the Torah, but from other Pauline elements in his Gospel as well. A few examples will suffice to demonstrate this point. As a passion narrative with an extended introduction, Mark emphasises the sacrificial death of Jesus rather than his teachings. He depicts Jesus as engaging in a (Law-free) Gentile mission which validates the later activity of Paul. Both the family of Jesus and his disciples, the later powerbrokers of the Jerusalem church who opposed Paul, are discredited in various ways, which raises the question of their validity to lead the early church and to oppose Paul as they did. Sim, Matthew and Christian Judaism, –, –. See J. Painter, Mark’s Gospel: Worlds in Conflict (NTR; London: Routledge, ) –; W. R. Telford, The Theology of the Gospel of Mark (NTT; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –; J. Marcus, Mark –: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB ; New York: Doubleday, ) –; Marcus, ‘Mark—Interpreter of Paul’, NTS () – ; J. Svartvik, Mark and Mission: Mark :– in Its Narrative and Historical Contexts (CBNTS ; Stockholm, Almqvist & Wiksell, ) –; Svartvik, ‘Matthew and Mark’, Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries (ed. D. C. Sim and B. Repschinski; LNTS ; London: T&T Clark International, ), – (–), and J. R. Donahue and D. J. Harrington, The Gospel of Mark (SP ; Collegeville: Liturgical, ) –. See the list of agreements in Marcus, Mark –, . On this point, see D. C. Sim, ‘Matthew and Jesus of Nazareth’, in Sim and Repschinski, Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries, – (–). Sim, Matthew and Christian Judaism, –, –. See too J. D. Crossan, ‘Mark and the Relatives of Jesus’, NovT () –; E. Trocmé, The Formation of the Gospel according to Mark (London: SPCK, ) –, and J. B. Tyson, ‘The Blindness of the Disciples in Mark’, The Messianic Secret (ed. C. M. Tuckett; IRT ; London: SPCK, ) –.
Matthew’s Use of Mark
It is imperative to note that Matthew edits or omits all of these Pauline features of Mark. He expands the teachings of Jesus and presents a view of the Torah that stands completely against the position of Mark and Paul. He also confines the mission of Jesus to the Jews alone (.; cf. .–), and depicts the risen Christ commissioning the disciples to be responsible for both the Jewish and Gentile missions in the time of the church (.–; cf. .–), thus undercutting Paul’s claim that he had been appointed the apostle to the Gentiles. Moreover, Matthew substantially rehabilitates the disciples and the family of Jesus. By doing so he not only betrays his allegiance to the tradition of the Jerusalem church, but he also corrects Mark’s implication of their unworthiness to lead the early Christian movement. Just as Marcan scholarship is beginning to embrace the view that Mark was inherently Pauline, we find that Matthean scholarship is now taking seriously an anti-Pauline perspective in Matthew. If we add this factor to the other deficiencies that Matthew identified in Mark’s Gospel, then a compelling picture emerges for Matthew’s motivation to replace his primary source. It lacked important narrative material concerning the birth Sim, Matthew and Christian Judaism, –. Cf. too Sim, ‘Paul and Matthew on the Torah: Theory and Practice’, Paul, Grace and Freedom: Essays in Honour of John K. Riches (ed. P. Middleton, A. Paddison and K. Wenell; London: T&T Clark International, ) –. For other comparisons of the Torah in Matthean and Pauline thought, see R. Mohrlang, Matthew and Paul: A Comparison of Ethical Perspectives (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –, and D. J. Harrington, ‘Matthew and Paul’, Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries (ed. Sim and Repschinski) – (–). D. C. Sim, ‘Matthew, Paul and the Origin and Nature of the Gentile Mission: The Great Commission in Matthew :– as an Anti-Pauline Tradition’, Hervormde Teologiese Studies () –. Sim, Matthew and Christian Judaism, –, –. See Sim, Matthew and Christian Judaism, –; ‘Paul and Matthew on the Torah’; ‘Matthew, Paul, and the Origin and Nature of the Gentile Mission’; ‘Matthew’s AntiPaulinism: A Neglected Feature of Matthean Studies’, Hervormde Teologiese Studies () –; ‘Matthew .–: Further Evidence of Its Anti-Pauline Perspective’, NTS () –; ‘Matthew and the Pauline Corpus: A Preliminary Intertextual Study’, JSNT () –. For further support of this hypothesis, see D. Catchpole, Resurrection People: Studies in the Resurrection Narratives of the Gospels (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, ) –; G. Theissen, ‘Kirche oder Sekte?: Über Einheit und Konflikt in frühen Urchristentum’, Theologie und Gegenwart () – (–); Theissen, ‘Kritik an Paulus im Matthäusevangelium? Von der Kunst verdeckter Polemik im Urchristentum’, Polemik im Neuen Testament. Texte, Themen, Gattungen und Kontexte (ed. O. Wischmeyer and L. Scornaienchi; BZNW ; Berlin: de Gruyter, ) –, and J. Painter, ‘Matthew and John’, Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries (ed. Sim and Repschinski) – (–). Other scholars, however, remain unconvinced. See Harrington, ‘Matthew and Paul’, –; J. Zangenberg, ‘Matthew and James’, Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries (ed. Sim and Repschinski), – (), and J. Willitts, ‘The Friendship of Matthew and Paul: A Response to a Recent Trend in the Interpretation of Matthew’s Gospel’, Hervormde Teologiese Studies () –.
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of Jesus and his resurrection appearances, it was deficient in terms of teaching material, it contained offensive pericopes, it was stylistically crude, and it did not meet the needs of Matthew’s post- Jewish Christian community. Furthermore, Matthew clearly saw Mark for what it was, a narrative account of the mission of Jesus that was designed, at least in part, to support the activity and the theology of Paul. Such a depiction of Jesus was, for the evangelist, utterly wrong and perhaps even dangerous, since it contradicted the theology and praxis of the Jerusalem church and probably misrepresented the teaching and activity of the historical Jesus. For all of these reasons Mark had to be replaced.
. The Cases of Luke and John
It is of interest that the basic claim of this study, that Matthew intended to replace Mark, has been made of the two other later evangelists, and this point is worthy of further exploration. Beginning with Luke, we find that this evangelist sets out his purpose in writing in the prologue to his Gospel (.–). Luke states that since many have undertaken to compile a narrative (about Jesus), it seems good to him also (κἀμοί), having investigated everything carefully (ἀκριβῶς), to write an orderly (καθ1ξῆς) account, so that Theophilus might know the truth (τὴν ἀσϕάλ1ιαν) of what he has been informed. The question that concerns us is the relationship that Luke defines between his own writing and its predecessors. On the one hand, Luke’s use of κἀμοί appears to place his own work very much within the tradition of his sources, in which case there is no criticism at all of these earlier efforts. On the other hand, however, most scholars do perceive in this passage some dissatisfaction on the part of Luke with these antecedent texts. The very fact that he took the trouble to write his own account when others were available indicates that he saw them as deficient to some extent. For discussion of this point, see Sim, ‘Matthew and Jesus of Nazareth’, –. Whether it was Matthew’s intention to replace Mark only in his own setting or right throughout the Christian movement depends upon one’s prior view of the intended readers for the Gospels. R. Bauckham has argued that the Gospels were not designed only for local communities but had open-ended readerships in mind. See Bauckham, ‘For Whom Were Gospels Written?’, –. While Bauckham states that his hypothesis is consistent with the view that the later evangelists intended to supplement their Gospel sources or the alternative thesis that they intended to supplant them (), he himself, as noted earlier, accepts that Matthew intended to replace Mark (). So J. Nolland, Luke –: (WBC A; Dallas: Word, ) –, –, and L. C. A. Alexander, The Preface to Luke’s Gospel: Literary Convention and Social Context in Luke .– and Acts . (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –, –. See, for example, F. Bovon, Luke : A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke :–: (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, ) , and B. Shellard, New Light on Luke: Its Purpose, Sources and Literary Context (JSNTSup ; London: Sheffield Academic, ) –. Cf. too Stanton, ‘Fourfold Gospel’, , and Bauckham, ‘For Whom Were Gospels Written?’, .
Matthew’s Use of Mark
In addition, since he describes his own Gospel as the result of careful investigation with an emphasis on accuracy and order, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that those sources that preceded him were not characterised by these qualities. There is here a veiled critique certainly of Mark and perhaps of Q as well. Did Luke intend to replace Mark because of its deficiencies? The answer lies in his treatment of his Marcan source, which is even more extreme than Matthew’s. While he adopted Mark’s Gospel genre and generally followed that source’s order of events, Luke substantially altered Mark in a variety of ways. He too constantly corrected the language of Mark, added a genealogy and infancy stories at the beginning of his narrative and resurrection appearance traditions at the end, and supplemented the meagre teachings of Jesus in Mark by incorporating material from Q and his special sources. Luke took over much less of Mark than did Matthew, omitting whole sections (cf. .–.) and substituting parallel traditions from his special source material (e.g. Luke .– and Mark .–). Many of the Marcan pericopes that Matthew found offensive and so edited or omitted (Mark .b-; .; .–; .–) are not found in Luke. On the estimate of Streeter, Luke reproduced only about % of Mark’s content. It is likewise clear that Mark did not suit Luke’s theological programme. The Gospel of Luke was not a stand-alone work; it was designed to be read in conjunction with Acts so that the two books together would provide a unified history of the ministry of Jesus and the first generation of the Christian church. The questions posed of Matthew above can be posed of Luke as well. What credible role could Mark have played among Luke’s readers, once he had produced his own revised, improved, enlarged, and updated edition of Mark? Why would Luke want his readers to consult the original Gospel when he had omitted or substituted almost half its content? Why would he desire that they read the Marcan passages that he clearly found offensive? Why would he be willing to have them read Mark when it was deficient in so many ways as a precursor to the story of the church in Acts? In response to these questions, it must be concluded that Mark had no role at all to play in the Lucan community once Luke had composed and circulated his two-volume work. The earlier Gospel had been made redundant. The hypothesis that Matthew and Luke desired to replace Mark with their own Gospel accounts raises a tantalising possibility. It is well known that from the
J. A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke I–IX: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB ; New York: Doubleday, ) –. Streeter, Four Gospels, –. Cf. too J. M. Creed, The Gospel according to St. Luke (London: Macmillan, ) lviii. See Creed, Luke, lxi-lxii. For further examples, see Creed, Luke, lviii-lix. Streeter, Four Gospels, . Brown, Introduction, , gives an even lower estimate of %.
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second century onwards Mark slipped almost into oblivion in the Christian church. It was the least cited Gospel by far and had the fewest commentaries devoted to it. In the opinion of most scholars, this was a simple ‘accident of history’. Matthew and Luke together incorporated almost all of Mark’s content in their own Gospels, so Mark had very little that was distinctive or unique. Under these circumstances it was perhaps inevitable but unfortunate that the original Gospel tended to be overlooked by the Church Fathers and other writers. But it may well be the case that the initial demise of Mark in the ancient church was no accident at all. Perhaps this was the very intention of the later evangelists who were well aware of its many serious flaws. We may now turn to the Gospel of John. The clear tradition of the ancient church was that John was specifically written to supplement the three other Gospels. In H.E. ..– Eusebius cites a tradition that John knew of the other Gospels and confirmed their accuracy, but he believed they lacked information about the early part of Jesus’ mission prior to the arrest of John the Baptist. He then composed his own narrative, which described that period in Jesus’ ministry. In the view of Eusebius John was motivated to supplement the Synoptic Gospels, and he designed his own account to be read alongside theirs. Another tradition cited by Eusebius but attributed to Clement of Alexandria is that John, being content that the three earlier Gospels provided the basic facts, was then moved by the Spirit to compose a spiritual Gospel (H.E. ..). This tradition too relates that John was written to be read in conjunction with the others. In more recent times Johannine scholarship has pondered whether or not the author of John even knew the Synoptic Gospels. The debate on this issue has swung back and forth for a century, but the theory of John’s dependence on the Synoptics now commands the assent of most Johannine scholars. Certainly John must have adopted the Gospel genre from one of the Synoptic Gospels,
For full discussion, see B. D. Schildgen, Power and Prejudice: The Reception of the Gospel of Mark (Detroit: Wayne State University, ) –. It is tempting to speculate that the fate of Q could have been analogous to the early demise of Mark. Given the existence of Q as a single and cohesive source or text and its subsequent disappearance from history, there is nothing to preclude the possibility that Matthew and Luke, again independently of one another and for their own individual reasons, believed that this source too needed to be revised and replaced. If that was their intention, then they were more successful in this instance than in the case of Mark. Mark’s apostolic connections with Peter prevented it from sliding completely into obscurity, but Q presumably had no such associations to protect it from that fate. See the fascinating historical review of this issue in D. M. Smith, John Among the Gospels: The Relationship in the Twentieth Century (Colombia: University of South Carolina, d ed. ). D. M. Smith, ‘John and the Synoptics and the Question of Gospel Genre’, The Four Gospels : Festschrift Frans Neirynck (ed. F. van Segbroeck et al.; BETL ; Leuven: Peeters, ) –.
Matthew’s Use of Mark
and the case for Mark is the strongest. If we assume that John did have access to Mark, then it is clear that he has completely revised and utterly transformed this particular source. The length of Jesus’ mission is extended to three years, much more of the action takes place in Judea and Jerusalem, and there are significant differences in chronology. The most profound discrepancies, however, reside in the unique content of John and the nature of that material. Much of the Gospel, especially prior to the Passion narrative, has no Marcan (or Synoptic) parallel. The Johannine miracle stories have few Marcan counterparts and they serve an entirely different function. Moreover, the teaching of Jesus in John is largely unique. While the Marcan Jesus proclaims the arrival of the Kingdom of God, the Johannine Jesus focuses mostly on his own status and mission. He is aware of his own pre-existence as the Word of God (.-), and he testifies to his identity through the many ‘I am sayings’ in the Gospel (e.g. .; .; .). It hardly needs saying that John’s rich symbolism, high Christology and sophisticated theology far transcend anything in Mark. The questions posed of Matthew and Luke are just as applicable to John. What role could Mark have played in the Johannine community once John had produced his own revised, enlarged, improved and updated edition of Mark? Why would he have been eager for them to consult the earliest Gospel after he himself had used it so sparingly, omitted much of it and replaced those traditions with very different material from independent sources? What possible purpose could have been served by the Johannine community reading Mark’s primitive theology and inferior Christology when his own spiritualised and profoundly theological account was available? John’s transformation of Mark was so drastic and so complete in almost every respect that it is nigh on inconceivable that he believed that Mark could have made any meaningful contribution to his readers alongside his own Gospel narrative. While some scholars continue to support the Patristic tradition that John did indeed compose his Gospel to supplement the others, it is difficult to disagree with the work of H. Windisch who argued long ago that the evangelist saw little theological or Christological value in his predecessors and was motivated to replace them with his own superior account. See the careful analysis in R. Kieffer, ‘Jean et Marc: Convergences dans la Structure et dans les Details’, John and the Synoptics (ed. A. Denaux; BETL ; Leuven: Peeters, ) –. R. Schnackenburg, ‘Synoptische und Johanneische Christologie: Ein Vergleich’, The Four Gospels (ed. van Segbroeck et al.) –. So R. Bauckham, ‘John for Readers of Mark’, The Gospels for All Christians (ed. Bauckham), –, and T. M. Dowell, ‘Why John Rewrote the Synoptics’, John and the Synoptics (ed. Denaux) –. H. Windisch, Johannes und die Synoptiker: Wöllte der vierte Evangelist die älteren Evangelien ergänzen oder ersetzen? (UNT ; Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, ). In agreement with Windisch is M. Hengel, The Johannine Question (London: SCM, ) – n. .
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This discussion of Luke’s and John’s intentions for Mark helps to contextualise the prior discussion of Matthew. That evangelist’s attempt to supplant Mark stands in agreement with Mark’s other early interpreters who also viewed that Gospel as seriously flawed and in need of replacement. This not to say that these three writers identified the same failings in Mark, though it is true that Matthew and Luke shared a number of similar concerns, but each of them believed that the original Gospel was at the very least an inadequate prototype of the Jesus story that had exceeded its use-by-date.
. Conclusions
The intention of this study has been to raise a neglected issue with regard to Matthew’s use of Mark. Did Matthew intend to supplement his primary source or to replace it? While he took over Mark’s Gospel genre and a large percentage of the Marcan content, Matthew’s redaction and expansion of Mark reveal his deep dissatisfaction with that text. Mark was too short. It lacked details about Jesus’ birth and resurrection and it did not adequately represent the teachings of Jesus. Moreover, it was grammatically crude, contained offensive traditions and, most importantly, was Christologically and theologically suspect. Its Pauline features were of particular concern to Matthew, who took great pains to edit or omit them. Mark was also not especially relevant for the evangelist’s Jewish Christian community in the difficulties it faced at the end of the first century. Such a Gospel needed to be replaced, and Matthew undertook this task by composing an enlarged, revised and updated account of Jesus’ story that was Christologically and theologically acceptable and relevant for the challenges facing his community. Once Matthew had produced and circulated his own Gospel, there was simply no need for Mark’s inferior narrative. In treating Mark in this manner, Matthew was no different from Luke and John. Both of these evangelists also identified serious shortcomings in Mark and each of them attempted to make Mark redundant by composing their own Gospel accounts. It is a fact of history that Matthew (and Luke and John as well) enjoyed initial success in his (their) bid to eradicate the Gospel of Mark, but ultimately the original Gospel survived and eventually found its way into the Christian canon. That Mark sits within the New Testament amidst the other Gospels and right next to the Gospel of Matthew is, in view of the argument presented in this study, more than a touch ironic.
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000214
Crucifixion and Burial* J O H N G RA N G E R C O O K LaGrange College, 601 Broad St., LaGrange, GA 30240, USA. email:
[email protected]
This essay examines the contention that Joseph of Arimathaea buried Jesus—in light of what one can know from Greco-Roman culture about the disposal of the bodies of crucified individuals. A survey of the statutes governing the burial of criminals and governing the prosecution of those accused of seditious activity indicates that provincial officials had a choice when confronted with the need to dispose of the bodies of the condemned. Greco-Roman texts show that in certain cases the bodies of the crucified were left to decompose in place. In other cases, the crucified bodies were buried. Keywords: Mark ., maiestas and seditio, animals’ consumption of crucified victims, burial of crucified individuals
Rudolf Bultmann famously claimed that the story of the empty tomb was ‘completely secondary’. He did, however, accept the historicity of Mark . and so did not deny that Joseph of Arimathaea buried Jesus. John Dominic Crossan has advanced the position by hypothesizing that Jesus’ body was thrown into a shallow grave and consumed by dogs. With reference to Mark .–, he asserts, ‘Moreover, far from a hurried, indifferent, and shallow grave barely covered with stones from which the scavenging dogs would easily and swiftly unbury the body there is now a rock tomb and a heavy rolling stone * My thanks to the reader and general editor for their many critical remarks on the article. I am also indebted to the following scholars who made comments: Paul J. Achtemeier, Jean-Jacques Aubert, A. J. Boudewijn Sirks, and William Turpin. I thank archaeologist Joseph Zias for much helpful information on burial in Roman Judaea. R. Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition (New York: Harper, ) . Bultmann, History, (with regard to Mark .–) ‘this is a historical account which creates no impression of being a legend apart from the women who appear again as witnesses in v. , and vv. , which Matthew and Luke in all probability did not have in their Mark’. J. D. Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography (New York: Harper Collins, ) thinks the Christian community invented the existence of Joseph. He provides no argumentation for that thesis other than the contention that Joseph develops in Christian tradition from a respected member of the Sanhedrin (Mark .) into a hidden disciple (Matt .).
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for closure and defense’. He bases this thesis on Gos. Pet. .–. where the Jews allegedly bury Jesus, which he takes to be the beginning of the tradition of Jesus’ burial that the NT developed into a tradition of burial by friends. What is curious about this position is that Crossan leaves out Gos. Pet. . where the Jews give the body to Joseph for burial (presumably because . is not ‘independent of the NT’). The Jews in Gos. Pet. . did not bury Jesus, but laid him on the ground (ἔθηκαν αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς—a translation Crossan does not contest). There is no reference to a shallow grave covered with rocks. He ends his quotation with .. My goal in this essay is not so much to ‘refute’ Crossan’s thesis but to consider what can be known about the disposal of crucified bodies in the Roman world. The argument will lead to the conclusion that the gospels’ narrative of the burial by Joseph of Arimathaea would have been believable to Greco-Roman readers and historically credible. The flow of the argument comprises five elements: . .
. . . .
An overview of the Roman statutes concerning the bodies of condemned criminals. Since criminals guilty of maiestas might not be buried, it is necessary to discuss the legal foundation for crucifixions in first-century Palestine with particular reference to that of Jesus and others executed for political crimes. A survey of the question of mass graves in Roman society. A review and analysis of texts supporting the denial of burial for some crucified bodies, which then were probably consumed by animals. A review and analysis of texts supporting the burial of other crucified bodies. Conclusions.
Crossan, Jesus, . J. K. Elliott argues that Gos. Pet. is dependent on the canonical gospels for its passion narrative (The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation based on M. R. James [ed. J. K. Elliott; Oxford: Clarendon, ] ). See also R. E. Brown, ‘The Gospel of Peter and Canonical Gospel Priority’, NTS () – and idem, The Death of the Messiah: From Gethsemane to the Grave ( vols.; New York: Doubleday, ) –. For the basis of Crossan’s position in Roman texts (i.e., that dogs consumed the bodies of the crucified), see the references to bodies consumed by animals below in § . Cf. Crossan, Jesus, . It seems more likely that .–. is a midrash on the gospels. Gos. Pet. . = P. Cair. f.v, line (Das Petrusevangelium und die Petrusapokalypse. Die griechischen Fragmente mit deutscher und englischer Übersetzung [ed. T. J. Kraus and T. Nicklas; GCS Neutestamentliche Apokryphen I; Berlin/New York: W. de Gruyter, ] ). Brown, The Death of the Messiah, – reviews the material, but more complete is the old work of J. Pearson, An Exposition of the Creed, vol. (Oxford: Clarendon, ) –.
Crucifixion and Burial . Roman Law and the Corpses of the Damnati
Romans were not concerned to leave descriptions of crucifixion. The texts that contain details are brief. They are even more sparing about descriptions of the ultimate fate of the corpses of those who had been crucified. The jurist Ulpian describes, in the early third century, in book nine of his Duties of the Proconsul, the legal situation he knows of that governs the disposal of executed bodies: Corpora eorum qui capite damnantur cognatis ipsorum neganda non sunt: et id se observasse etiam divus Augustus libro decimo de vita sua scribit. Hodie autem eorum, in quos animadvertitur, corpora non aliter sepeliuntur, quam si fuerit petitum et permissum, et nonnumquam non permittitur, maxime maiestatis causa damnatorum. Eorum quoque corpora, qui exurendi damnantur, peti possunt, scilicet ut ossa et cineres collecta sepulturae tradi possint. The corpses of those who were sentenced to die are not to be withheld from their relatives: the divine Augustus writes in the tenth book of his autobiography that he had observed this rule. Today, however, the corpses of executed people are buried as if permission had been asked for and granted, with some exceptions, especially when the charge was high treason. Even the bodies of those condemned to be burned at the stake can be claimed, obviously so that bones and ashes can be collected and buried.
Ulpian pictures an orderly procedure of asking for permission to bury the bodies of the condemned. Augustus and Tiberius were not always willing to give bodies back to the families. The corpse of one of Brutus’s allies was given to birds of prey. In the purges after Sejanus’s fall (during Tiberius’s reign) many committed suicide, like Pomponius Labeo, for fear of the executioner because those who Luc. .– (quoted below) and Sen. Ep. . are two of the most specific, along with the tortures implied in the lex Puteoli. For the lex Puteoli, which describes crucifixion practice, cf. F. Hinard and J. C. Dumont, ed., Libitina: Pompes funèbres et supplices in Campanie à l’époque d’Auguste (Paris: De Boccard, ) II.– (–) with commentary on –. J. G. Cook, ‘Envisioning Crucifixion: Light from Several Inscriptions and the Palatine Graffito’, NovT () –, esp. , –. The inscription was found in the Augustan forum in Puteoli and probably is from the Augustan age, or more generally from the Julio-Claudian era (cf. G. Camodeca, ‘Per la riedizione della leges libinariae flegree’, Libitina e dintorni … [ed. S. Panciera; Libitina ; Rome: Quasar, ] –, esp. –). Ulpian lib. IX de officio proconsulis in Dig. ... Trans. of J.-J. Aubert, ‘Corpse Disposal in the Roman Colony of Puteoli’, Noctes Campanae: Studi di storia antica ed archeologia dell’Italia preromana e romana in memoria di Martin W. Frederiksen (ed. W. V. Harris and E. Lo Cascio; Naples: Luciano, ) –, esp. . See also The Digest of Justinian (ed. A. Watson; vols.; Philadelphia: Pennsylvania University, ) .. For a brief description of De officio proconsulis, cf. T. Honoré, Ulpian: Pioneer of Human Rights (Oxford/New York: Oxford University, ) –, (composed in ). Suet. Aug. .–: ut quidem uni suppliciter sepulturam precanti respondisse dicitur iam istam volucrum fore potestatem (‘He is said to have replied to one man who was suppliantly begging
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were condemned to death were deprived of their possessions and were refused burial. The bodies of Sejanus’s allies were dragged to the Tiber. One of the clearest statements about the refusal of burial for the corpses of some executed individuals is from Eusebius who described the persecution of Lyons during the reign of Marcus Aurelius. The bodies of the martyrs were on public view for six days, and then were burned. Their ashes were then thrown into the Rhone River. The Digest continues with a quotation of Ps. Paulus’s Sententiae, a work written toward the end of the third century: Corpora animadversorum quibuslibet petentibus ad sepulturam danda sunt (The bodies of executed persons are to be granted to any who seek them for burial). Although Ps. Paulus is late, the tradition he hands on may be much earlier, and the gospels confirm his picture if they are correct in their claim that Joseph of Arimathaea asked for and was given the corpse of Jesus. Ulpian leaves the crime of high treason or maiestas as one of the major exceptions to the rule, but it is highly unlikely Jesus was tried for that crime. I will not belabor the point that this ‘exception’ Ulpian mentions is dated closer to his era than that of Augustus.
for burial that “That will belong to the jurisdiction of the birds”’). My thanks to Dr. Arthur Robinson for his comments on this text. Tac. Ann. ..: nam promptas eius modi mortes metus carnificis faciebat, et quia damnati publicatis bonis sepultura prohibebantur. On Ann. .. and Suet. Aug. .–, cf. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, –. Tac. Ann. ... Cp. Liv. .. ( BCE) where the legate, Quintus Pleminius, tortured some military tribunes with ‘servile tortures’, crucified them, and did not allow them to be buried and Suet. Ves. . (unburied conspirators). Eusebius H.E. ..–. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, , errs in his statements that the martyrs of Lyons were crucified and were convicted for maiestas. Maiestas is not mentioned by Eusebius and is a topic in the ongoing debate on the legal basis for the persecution of the Christians. T. D. Barnes, ‘Legislation Against the Christians’, JRS () – remains the seminal contribution in recent years. Ps. Paulus lib. I sententiarum in Dig. ... Trans. in Watson, Digest, .. On the Sententiae, cf. A. A. Schiller, Roman Law: Mechanisms of Development (The Hague/New York: Mouton, ) – and T. Honoré, ‘Iulius Paulus’, OCD, –. In a constitution of March , to Gaudentius (Codex Iust. ..) Diocletian and Maximianus wrote: obnoxios criminum digno supplicio subiectos supulturae tradi non vetamus (we do not prohibit those guilty of crimes who have been subjected to just punishment to be handed over for burial). Against a conviction for crimen maiestatis, to be discussed further below: J.-J. Aubert, ‘A Double Standard in Roman Criminal Law? The Death Penalty and Social Structure in Late Republican and Early Imperial Rome’, Speculum Iuris: Roman Law as a Reflection of Social and Economic Life in Antiquity (ed. J.-J. Aubert and B. Sirks; Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, ) –, esp. n. (a model of clarity). Jesus’ status as a peregrinus and his lower-class social standing are against a conviction for maiestas.
Crucifixion and Burial . Crucifixion in Roman Palestine
If Jesus’ crucifixion was a political execution in Palestine, one might conclude that his body would be treated with special disdain and denied burial. What can be shown here is that it probably was a political execution, though not for maiestas since Jesus was a peregrinus (i.e., not a Roman citizen). Even so burial is not out of the question as archaeology shows. .. Crucifixions in Palestine as Political Executions Josephus envisions all the crucifixions in Roman Palestine as political executions. It is possible that a prefect or procurator, however, could have crucified slaves and peregrini for other crimes. Martin Hengel makes an important point about the evidence in Tacitus and Josephus: ‘What would we know about the crucifixions in Palestine without Josephus? Tacitus, Histories .–, does not say a word about them’. It is important to place Pilate’s execution of Jesus in context of the known crucifixions of that period. In BCE after the death of Herod, the governor of Syria, Quintilius Varus, put down the sedition by imprisoning the less tumultuous and crucifying about individuals:
Οὔαρος δὲ κατὰ τὴν χώραν πέμψας τοῦ στρατοῦ μέρος ἐπεζήτει τοὺς αἰτίους τῆς ἀποστάσεως. καὶ σημαινομένων τοὺς μὲν ἐκόλασεν ὡς αἰτιωτάτους, εἰσὶ δʼ οὓς καὶ ἀφῆκεν· ἐγίνοντο δὲ οἱ διὰ ταύτην τὴν αἰτίαν σταυρωθέντες δισχίλιοι. Varus sent part of the army throughout the land seeking the instigators of the sedition. And when they were discovered, some he punished as the guiltiest, but others he released. He crucified on this charge.
The version in the Jewish War also emphasizes Varus’s search for the fomenters of the sedition (τοὺς αἰτίους τοῦ κινήματος), his decision to imprison the lesser of the troublemakers (τοὺς μὲν ἧττον θορυβώδεις φανέντας), and his decision to crucify of the most guilty (τοὺς δὲ αἰτιωτάτους). Josephus uses a technical See the accusation that a governor of Syria (Piso) crucified soldiers who were peregrini in D. S. Potter, ed., and C. Damon, trans., ‘The Senatus Consultum de Cn. Pisone Patre’, American Journal of Philology () –, esp. – and Das Senatus consultum de Cn. Pisone patre (ed. W. Eck, A. Caballos, and F. Fernández Gómez; Vestigia ; Munich: Beck, ) (text), – (commentary). Cp. Cook, ‘Envisioning Crucifixion’, –. M. Hengel, Crucifixion in the Ancient World and the Folly of the Message of the Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress, ) . Josephus A.J. .. Josephus B.J. .. On these texts, cf. D. Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions of Crucifixion (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. As. Mos. .– probably describes the same event. See H.-W. Kuhn ‘Die Kreuzesstrafe während der frühen Kaiserzeit. Ihre Wirklichkeit und Wertung in der Umwelt des Urchristentums’, ANRW II.. () –, esp. .
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term for a judicial charge (ταύτην τὴν αἰτίαν), the same term used in the Mark . (par. Matt .). Presumably αἰτία is a rough equivalent for crimen (crime, charge) and ἀπόστασις an equivalent for seditio. Felix, in the fifties, sent a troublemaking brigand chief named Eleazar son of Deinaeus to Rome along with his associates and crucified many of his followers:
οὗτος τόν τε ἀρχιλῃστὴν Ἐλεάζαρον ἔτεσιν εἴκοσι τὴν χώραν λῃσάμενον καὶ πολλοὺς τῶν σὺν αὐτῷ ζωγρήσας ἀνέπεμψεν εἰς Ῥώμην· τῶν δʼ ἀνασταυρωθέντων ὑπʼ αὐτοῦ λῃστῶν καὶ τῶν ἐπὶ κοινωνίᾳ φωραθέντων δημοτῶν οὓς ἐκόλασεν, ἄπειρόν τι πλῆθος ἦν. He [Felix] captured the chief brigand Eleazar who had carried out raids in the country for twenty years and many of those who were with him and sent them to Rome. The number was limitless of the brigands crucified by him and of the populace discovered to be in association with him whom he punished.
Josephus had earlier made it clear that Eleazar was the leader of a band of brigands and rioters (τοῦ λῃστρικοῦ δʼ αὐτῶν καὶ στασιώδους Δειναίου τις υἱὸς Ἐλεάζαρος καὶ Ἀλέξανδρος ἐξῆρχον). The other texts from Josephus are similar. In none of the texts does Josephus make an obvious appeal to any specific Roman statute that would serve as the ground for the crucifixions, but he clearly thinks that seditious activity in itself (or rather inciting sedition) warrants execution. .. Jesus’ Crucifixion as a Political Execution Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn, after his careful review of crucifixion in Roman Palestine (all are for some sort of insurrection), remarks that it is certain Jesus was executed as a rebel. The titulus (placard) on the cross, ‘King of the Jews’, H. J. Mason, Greek Terms for Roman Institutions: A Lexicon and Analysis (ASP ; Toronto: Hakkert, ) does not include either Greek term in his dictionary. A discussion of the recovery of dotal property in the case of Gracchus’s widow, Licinnia, is in Basilica .. (ὅτι παρʼ αἰτίαν αὐτοῦ στάσις γέγονε καὶ ἐν τῇ στάσει ἀπώλοντο) par. Dig. ...pr. quod res dotales in ea seditione, qua Gracchus occisus erat perissent (because her dotal property had perished in that sedition, in which Gracchus was killed). Josephus B.J. .. Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, and Kuhn, ‘Kreuzesstrafe’, . Josephus B.J. .. In A.J. ., the parallel to B.J. ., crucifixion is not mentioned. Kuhn, ‘Kreuzesstrafe’, –, . In my view Kuhn’s exegesis of Josephus’s and Philo’s texts is successful. To my knowledge, the only pagan critic of Christianity who claimed Jesus actually committed rebel actions was Hierocles, who both wrote against Christianity and participated in the Great Persecution. Cf. Lact. Inst. .. (SC , Monat): ipsum autem Christum adfirmauit a Iudaeis fugatum collecta nongentorum hominum manu latrocinia fecisse (He affirmed that Christ himself, having fled from the Jews, collected a band of men and committed acts of robbery). Cp. J. G. Cook, The Interpretation of the New Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (STAC ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –
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supports this view. One can choose, against the evidence of the gospels, to be sceptical of the content of the titulus, but the use of the titulus itself was in accord with Roman practice. In Ps. Quintilian Decl. min. ., a master willed that a slave should be crucified because he would not poison him (nolenti dare crucem scripsit). The slave asks for a trial before the tribunes. In the discussion, the rhetors mention the ‘description of the extreme punishment under the appropriate titulus (placard)’. D. R. Shackleton Bailey notes that the titulus would have been ‘placed at the top of the cross’—as in the gospels. I imagine that was the master’s intention. Even if one rejects the content of the gospels’ titulus, the evidence from Josephus for crucifixions in Roman Palestine makes it likely that the charge against Jesus was political. .. Jesus’ Execution: Maiestas, Seditio, or Troublemaking Because Ulpian mentions maiestas as a possible exception to burial of individuals condemned to death, it is necessary to discuss that as a possible charge against Jesus. Although Raymond Brown and others have argued that maiestas was the charge against Jesus, it is more probable that Pilate executed him for sedition or troublemaking, especially because Jesus was a peregrinus (not a Roman citizen). Since Jesus was a peregrinus, it is difficult to see that a formal charge
(with ref. to a tradition of the Slavonic Josephus in which a large group, after seeing Jesus’ healings, asks him to enter Jerusalem, kill the Roman troops and Pilate and reign over them). Celsus compares Jesus unfavorably to a robber captain who at least can inspire loyalty in his followers (unlike Jesus who was betrayed by his followers) in Origen Cels. ., and he calls Jesus ‘author of the [Christian] sedition’ in . (τῆς στάσεως ἀρχηγέτης). In Cassius Dio .. ( BCE) a master, after having led his slave through the Forum with an inscription (μετὰ γραμμάτων) explaining the death penalty, has him crucified. Kuhn, ‘Kreuzesstrafe’, denies that this text is a titulus for a cross, but is simply the placard that criminals had to carry before execution. [Quint.] Decl. min. ., cf. the trans. in [Quintilian], The Lesser Declamations ( vols.; D. R. Shackleton Bailey; LCL; Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University, ) .. D. Liebs (a legal historian), Vor den Richtern Roms: Berühmte Prozesse der Antike (Munich: Beck: ), assumes the validity of the titulus (despite its variations in the gospels) and observes that it presupposes a formal trial. Dig. .., quoted above in § . R. E. Brown, ‘The Burial of Jesus (Mark :–)’, CBQ () –, esp. . He became more circumspect in his investigation of the passion, to be quoted below. G. Jossa, Jews or Christians: The Followers of Jesus in Search of their own Identity (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) (laesa maiestas), J. H. Welch, ‘Miracles, Maleficium, and Maiestas in the Trial of Jesus’, Jesus and Archaeology (ed. J. H. Charlesworth; Grand Rapids, MI/ Cambridge, UK: Eerdmans, ) –, esp. , – (maiestas and maleficium, a charge of the Sanhedrin presented to Pilate). With regard to maleficium, T. Mommsen (Römisches Strafrecht [Leipzig: Dunker, ] n. ) only found technical legal uses of the word (maleficus) in texts beginning with the time of Diocletian. Cf. Collatio legum
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like maiestas (or perduellio [high treason]) would be relevant. I have not found any records of Roman trials in which a peregrinus was explicitly accused of maiestas by a magistrate. A. N. Sherwin-White, a meticulous classical scholar, thinks that Pilate executed Jesus on the charge of sedition. The bibliography is endless, and it is not necessary to rehearse it here. Brown’s conclusions, in his exhaustive analysis of Jesus’ passion, are careful. He writes that it is ‘debatable that maiestas was the charge’ but apparently inclines toward the possibility. He thinks only John . makes the connection of maiestas against the emperor clear. Tacitus’s narratives about trials for maiestas, however, have little in common with .. Again, it is important to emphasize that these stories do not describe the trials of peregrini for maiestas. Ulpian’s discussion of maiestas envisions charges against a Roman citizen guilty of high treason against the state: Proximum sacrilegio crimen est, quod maiestatis dicitur. Maiestatis autem crimen illud est, quod aduersus populum Romanum uel aduersus securitatem eius committitur. . . . quo armati homines cum telis lapidibusue in urbe sint conueniantue aduersus rem publicam, locaue occupentur uel templa, quoue coetus conuentusue fiat hominesue ad seditionem conuocentur: . . . quoue quis contra rem publicam arma ferat: quiue . . . feceritue dolo malo, quo hostes populi Romani consilio iuuentur aduersus rem publicam: quiue milites sollicitauerit concitaueritue, quo seditio tumultusue aduersus rem publicam fiat.
mosaicarum et romanorum . (Fontes iuris romani antejustiniani [ed. S. Riccobono et al.; vols.; Florence: Barbèra, –] .). On this point see C. W. Chilton, ‘The Roman Law of Treason under the Early Principate’, JRS () –, esp. . Chilton shows that perduellio ‘was obsolete long before the accession of Tiberius’ and that ‘in the jurists the term is only used twice outside of Ulpian’. A. N. Sherwin-White, ‘The Trial of Christ in the Synoptic Gospels’, Roman Society and Roman Law in the New Testament: The Sarum Lectures – (Oxford: Clarendon, ) –, esp. : Pilate accepted the Sanhedrin’s sentence (death because of blasphemy, for which they substituted sedition), A. Watson, The Trial of Jesus (Athens, GA: University of Georgia, ), (sedition). Liebs, Vor den Richtern, – gathers a representative collection. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, . John . does not closely resemble any of the occurrences of maiestas in Tacitus (who describes many uses of it in trials), since Jesus is not openly accused of leading a revolt against the people of Rome: Ann. .. (diminishing the army by betrayal and the people by sedition), .. (telling bad stories about Tiberius), .. (insulting the deified Augustus), .. (the sexual liaisons of Augustus’s daughter and granddaughter), .. (involvement with an individual planning war against Rome), .. (leading a revolt against Rome), .. (complicity in a revolt); .. (supplying funds for a revolt, cf. ..), .. (writing a book praising Brutus and Cassius), ..– (words that offended the emperor), .. (desire for the empire), .. (verses against Nero). For a review of the trials under Tiberius see R. S. Rogers, Criminal Trials and Criminal Legislation under Tiberius (Middletown, CT: American Philological Association, ). He (, ) thinks Jesus was crucified for perduellio.
Crucifixion and Burial Closest to sacrilege is that crime which is called treason. . The crime of treason is that which is committed against the Roman people or against their safety . . . or that men armed with weapons or stones should be, or should assemble, within the city against the interests of the state, or should occupy places or temples; or that there should be an assembly or gathering or that men should be called together for seditious purposes . . . or that anyone should bear arms against the state . . . or does anything with malicious intent whereby the enemies of the Roman people may be helped with his counsel against the state; or who persuades or incites troops to make a sedition or tumult against the state.
Roman magistrates might have sometimes prosecuted those guilty of sedition under the lex Julia de vi publica. That law covered appeals, and one of the constitutions concerning appeals mentions sedition as an exception: Constitutiones, quae de recipiendis nec non appellationibus loquuntur, ut nihil noui fiat, locum non habent in eorum persona, quos damnatos statim puniri publice interest: ut sunt insignes latrones uel seditionum concitatores uel duces factionum. Imperial pronouncements that concern the admission and refusal of appeals, so that nothing will change [in the condition of the convict], have no place in case of persons, whose immediate punishment after condemnation is in the public interest: such as notorious bandits, instigators of seditions, and leaders of criminal gangs.
The chapter in the Digest on the lex Julia de vi publica includes this statement: In eadem causa sunt, qui turbae seditionisue faciendae consilium inierint seruosue aut liberos homines in armis habuerint. Under the same heading come those who have entered into a conspiracy to raise a mob or a sedition or who keep either slaves or freemen under arms. Ulpian lib. VII de officio proconsulis, in Dig. ...pr-. Trans. of Watson, Digest, .. Aubert, ‘Double Standard’, n. remarks that Ulpian’s definition is ‘somewhat anachronistic for the early first century A.D.’. Modestinus, lib. VI differentiarum in Dig. ... Trans. of J. Pölönen, ‘Plebeians and Repression of Crime in the Roman Empire: From Torture of Convicts to Torture of Suspects’, RIDA () –, esp. . Ps. Paulus Sent. .. and Dig. .. show that the law of appeals was part of the lex Julia de vi publica. Marcianus lib. XIV institutionum in Dig. ...pr. Trans. of Watson, Digest, .. All of Dig. . is about the Julian law on public violence. Sedition could also be prosecuted under the lex Cornelia de sicariis et veneficis (Marcianus lib. XIV institutionum in Dig. ... qui auctor seditionis fuerit [likewise one who has been the fomenter of sedition]). On that law see J.-L. Ferrary, ‘Lex Cornelia de sicariis et veneficis’, Athenaeum n.s. () –, J. D. Cloud, ‘The Primary Purpose of the lex Cornelia de sicariis’, ZSRG.R () –.
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Individuals guilty of repeated turbulent and seditious behavior who have already been ‘corrected’ (i.e., whipped) are punished with exile or death (Quod si ita correcti in eisdem deprehendantur, exilio puniendi sunt, nonnumquam capite plectendi, scilicet cum saepius seditiose et turbulente se gesserint . . . ). In Ps. Paulus, instigators of sedition and tumult or those who incite the people, depending on their social standing, are either crucified or thrown to wild animals or exiled to an island (Auctores seditionis et tumultus vel concitatores populi pro qualitate dignitatis aut in crucem tolluntur aut bestiis obiciuntur aut in insulam deportantur). Another possibility that one should consider is that provincial magistrates were sent to keep their areas quiet. Trajan told Pliny that he chose his prudence in order that he might use moderation in ordering the practices of the province and that he might enact those things which should be helpful for perpetual freedom from disturbance there (Sed ego ideo prudentiam tuam elegi, ut formandis istius prouinciae moribus ipse moderareris et ea constitueres, quae ad perpetuam eius prouinciae quietem essent profutura). Ulpian wrote that it is correct for a good and serious governor to be concerned that the province which he rules is peaceful and quiet (Congruit bono et gravi praesidi curare, ut pacata atque quieta provincia sit quam regit). Pilate may have identified Jesus as a troublemaker who could potentially disturb the city of Jerusalem. Brown concludes his discussion with a statement similar to Ulpian’s: A general principle of maintaining order in a subject province rather than a specific law may have governed the treatment of a non-citizen such as Jesus. In retrospect, of course, one can find a relationship between that general principle and Roman laws against treason; but it would be wrong to imagine that the prefect consulted law books every time they had to deal with a provincial accused of a crime.
Probably Pilate classified Jesus’ alleged crimen (crime) as seditio or troublemaking (se turbulente gessere), because of the political nature of all (or the majority of?) the crucifixions in first-century Palestine. But once he identified Jesus as a political criminal guilty of fomenting sedition, it is doubtful that he felt the need to consult juristic texts to justify execution. Detlef Liebs mentions the tumultuous entry into Jerusalem and Jesus’ turbulent actions in the temple against the money changers and merchants as enough to convince Pilate that Jesus was inciting the Jewish people against Rome, even though Pilate must have had his doubts Callistratus lib. VI de cognitionibus in Dig. .... Ps. Paulus Sent. ... The parallel passage in Dig. ..., after Constantine’s prohibition of crucifixion (Aurelius Victor Caes. ., Sozomen H.E. ..), changed crux (cross) to furca (fork). Codex Iust. . also comprises laws against sedition. Plin. Ep. Tr. .. Ulpian De procons. VII in Dig. ...pr. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, . I take this point from a comment of Prof. Sirks.
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concerning the accusation. This is not to say Jesus was actually a political revolutionary. However Pilate viewed the seriousness of Jesus’ crimen, he could not have viewed him as a truly dangerous fomenter of sedition, since he did not persecute his followers. .. Archaeology and Political Executions in Roman Palestine Whether Pilate viewed Jesus as guilty of inciting to sedition or just as a troublemaker, the one archaeological remnant, from the first century CE, of a known crucified individual found in a Jewish tomb in Givʿat ha-Mivtar northeast of Jerusalem shows that Pilate could still have permitted the burial of Jesus’ body. If Josephus is accurate in his picture of first-century crucifixions in Palestine, then Jehohanan was almost certainly crucified for some kind of political ˙ crime. His burial is fully in accord with the picture Ulpian leaves us. Jehohanan’s ˙ family had undoubtedly appealed to the prefect or carnifex (executioner, probably a centurion). The point is that if Jehohanan was guilty of some kind of brigandage/ ˙ political disturbance (the two are equivalent in the crucifixions in the first century in the texts of Josephus), the prefect or centurion still allowed the burial. At this time only four archaeological examples of individuals who suffered violence are known in the Jerusalem area. Joseph Zias writes that ‘Osteoarchaeological evidence of the well known endemic violence prevailing in Jerusalem at the time is surprisingly rare. Aside from one case of crucifixion and two decapitations along with a sword injury to the elbow, there are no reported cases from Jerusalem’. All four examples (the fourth being the terribly Liebs, Vor den Richtern, . The only hint of such an action is Tac. Ann. .., repressaque in praesens exitiabilis superstitio rursum erumpebat non modo per Iudaeam … (and having been repressed for the moment, the deadly superstition erupted again not only in Judaea…). This is probably Tacitus’s own conclusion based on Pilate’s execution of Jesus. Prof. Sirks informs me that Jesus’ followers were not prosecuted, because ‘the penalty is against the concitatores seditionum, the inciters of it, which Jesus might be considered with some bad will’. Y. Yadin, ‘Epigraphy and Crucifixion’, IEJ [] –. See J. Zias and E. Sekeles, ‘The Crucified Man from Givʿat ha-Mivtar: A Reappraisal’, IEJ () – (they show that the interpretation, advocated by individuals such as Kuhn, ‘Kreuzesstrafe’, in which both heels were transfixed by the nail, is incorrect) and Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, –. Kuhn, ‘Kreuzesstrafe’, . Joseph Zias, who has carefully analyzed the skeletal remains, concurs with this judgment, per a private communication with the author. J. Zias, ‘Human Skeletal Remains from the Mount Scopus Tomb’, ʿAtiqot () –, esp. (a mutilated male [– years old], probably a captive, in ossuary No. who suffered a shearing blow to the left side of the skull; his left arm ‘was struck twice by a heavy instrument, probably an axe or saber’; another blow sheared the shoulder joint and penetrated deeply into his body). He additionally refers to Zias and Sekeles, ‘The Crucified Man’, – and J. Zias, ‘Anthropological Evidence of Interpersonal Violence in First Century A.D. Jerusalem’, Current Anthropology () – (the two decapitations).
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mutilated individual in the Mount Scopus tomb) were found in the northern cemetery of Jerusalem. Zias makes the observation that ‘skeletal remains are generally recovered in a poor state of preservation because of the custom of burying the deceased in limestone caves, or, sometimes, in limestone ossuaries’. This may help explain the rarity of archaeological evidence concerning crucifixion. Even if Pilate actually thought Jesus was guilty of some kind of political disturbance, he could have allowed the burial. But one cannot deny the possibility that, against the evidence of the gospels, Pilate refused to permit any kind of burial for Jesus.
. Mass Graves
Potters’ fields or mass graves were part of Roman society. Communities in the empire had to have them for the poor and for criminals. Varro (second to first century BCE) mentions pits (puticuli) outside of towns where people were buried or cadavers rotted that were thrown there. They were probably open. Agennius Urbicus (ca. fourth to fifth century CE) also is a witness for public graveyards for the poor and places for convicted criminals. habent et res p(ublicae) loca suburbana inopum funeribus destinata quae loca culinas appellant. Habent et loca noxiorum poenis destinata. Public entities have suburban places designated for the funerals of the poor— which they call ‘places for funeral burnt offerings’. They also have places designated for the punishment of convicted criminals.
The contractor undertaker/executioner of Puteoli agreed to this condition: item si unco extrahere iussus erit oper(is) russat(is) id cadaver ubi plura / cadavera erunt cum tintinnabulo extrahere debebit. If he will be commanded to drag [the cadaver] out with a hook, he must drag the cadaver itself out, his workers dressed in red, with a bell ringing, to a place where many cadavers will be.
The hypothetical indicates that the practice was not universal. Some corpses were abandoned in place. Some were buried. Jean-Jacques Aubert thinks this may be Zias, ‘Anthropological Evidence’, . Var. L. .. Agennius Urbicus, De controversiis agrorum (Corpus agrimensorum romanorum [ed. C. Thulin; BiTeu; Stuttgart: Teubner, ] ,–). Hinard and Dumont, Libitina, II.– (). Cf. Cook, ‘Envisioning Crucifixion’, , , . See the commentary of Hinard and Dumont, Libitina, . For abandoned corpses they refer to Tac. Ann. .., locum servilibus poenis sepositum (the place specially reserved for the punishment of slaves). Var. L. . also mentions this place ‘beyond the Esquiline hill’. Cf.
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similar to the occasional practice in Rome where the corpses of criminals were placed in mass graves or the Tiber. He hedges, however, and cites the text from Ulpian (Dig. ..) given above: ‘However, notwithstanding differences due to local conditions and religious context (cf. Jesus’ burial on the day of his crucifixion before the beginning of Sabbath), the Augustan period appears to have been a watershed in the way corpses of executed people were treated by law’. The other two excerpts in the same title of the Digest ‘show that the matter was left to the emperor’s discretion, and that imperial generosity and indulgence, however slow to come for those who had been deported or relegated, translated into custom in the Severan period and into law by ’. François Hinard and Jean Christian Dumont believe that the lex Puteoli and the text from Agennius Urbicus both show that at least for certain criminals the magistrate of the colony did not deprive the executed of the right of burial. John Bodel discusses the discovery beyond the Esquiline gate in Rome of ‘some seventy-five mass burial pits, rectangular in shape, arranged in rows, lined with blocks of sperone or cappellaccio tufa’. He shows that they are to be distinguished from the potter’s field in Horace’s Sat. ..–, ‘a pestilential region by feet in area strewn with bones’. The mass burial pits would have been open for several weeks before being filled to the capacity. In about BCE the potter’s field mentioned by Horace was covered over by Maecenas, and according to Bodel it ‘marked the end of the practice at Rome of burying the poor in mass graves and that subsequently cremation in public crematoria became the common fate of those without the means to ensure a private burial’. The
J. Bodel, ‘Graveyards and Groves: A study of the Lex Lucerina’, American Journal of Ancient History ( []) –, esp. , . Plautus Ps. mentions the executioners there. Aubert, ‘Corpse Disposal’, . In Roman texts the hook can be an instrument for torture, execution, or for dragging corpses (Cic. Rab. Perd. ., Suet. Tib. .). Aubert, ‘Corpse Disposal’, with reference to the three excerpts in Dig. ..–. Hinard and Dumont, Libitina, . This power extended beyond the punishment of slaves. They also mention Dig. ... J. Bodel, ‘Dealing with the Dead: Undertakers, Executioners and Potter’s Fields in Ancient Rome’, Death and Disease in the Ancient City (ed. V. M. Hope and E. Marshall; London/ New York: Routledge, ) –, esp. (the burial pits had been covered over by rubble fifty years before Horace’s potter’s field was used). Bodel, ‘Dealing with the Dead’, . Bodel, ‘Dealing with the Dead’, with ref. to Cassius Dio .. (in BCE the Senate also decreed that no bodies could be burned within two miles of Rome) and Porphyrion at Hor. Sat. .. (Scholia antiqua in Q. Horatium Flaccum [ed. A. Holder; Ad Aeni Pontem: Wagner, ] ,–: public crematoria,
urbanissime dicitur haec regio, namque publicas ustrinas habebat), and .. (,– Holder: the crematoria were moved away from the Esquiline making it more healthy, Nunc licet Esquiliis habitare[s] salubribus: Scilicet, quia promotae longius ustrinae, salubres factae sunt Esquiliae). Cf.
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relevance of all this for practice in Roman Palestine is somewhat questionable. Open mass graves in Judaea do not seem probable, given Jewish attitudes toward burial. At this time there are no known mass graves in Judaea which show evidence of being open burial grounds, where animals would have left evidence of gnawed skeletal remains.
. Denial of Burial: Birds of Prey, Wild Animals, Dogs and Corpses
NT scholars are well aware that birds of prey fed on the corpses of crucified individuals while they still hung in the open. A slave in Plautus’s Miles Gloriosus asserts that, scio crucem futuram mihi sepulcrum; / ibi meí sunt maiores siti, pater, avos, proavos, abavos (I know that the cross will be my future sepulchre: there my ancestors have been buried—my father, grandfathers, great grandfathers, and great great grandfathers). An inscription from Amyzon in Caria (second century BCE) describes, in elegiac meter, a master named Demetrius son of Pankrates who went to Hades because his slave had killed him in his sleep and then burned his house. The citizens of the community crucified the slave and left him for the beasts:
ἀλλὰ πολῖται ἐμοὶ τὸν ἐμὲ ῥέξαντα τοιαῦτα θηρσὶ καὶ οἰωνοῖς ζωὸν ἀνεκρέμασαν. but the one who did such things to me my fellow citizens hung alive for the wild beasts and birds.
Bodel, ‘Dealing with the Dead’, – on the whole issue. Bodel notes that it is unclear whether the crematoria in Porphyrion’s remark on .. are public or private (). This per a communication from Joseph Zias. He does note that many hyena caves in the region he has excavated contain gnawed human bones. The ‘usual’ examples include: Hor. Ep. .., Petr. ., Juv. .–. A snake, wrapped around the head of the crucified corpse of Cleomenes (Plutarch Cleom. .) keeps flesheating birds away. In Prud. Peri. .– the judge tells the torturer: crux istum tollat in auras / uiuentesque oculos offerat alitibus (let the cross lift that one into the sky, and let him offer his living eyes to the birds). Pl. Mil. –. J. and L. Robert, Fouilles d’Amyzon en Carie I: Exploration, historie, monnaies et inscriptions (Paris: de Boccard, ) –; S. R. Llewelyn, New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity: A Review of the Greek Inscriptions and Papyri Published –, vol. (Grand Rapids, MI/Cambridge: Eerdmans, ) – (his trans. slightly modified). Llewelyn (p. ) shows that it is unclear whether the area was under Roman influence or free at the time of the inscription. Hengel, Crucifixion, quotes an image of the crucified as οἰωνῶν κατάδειπνα, κυνῶν θʼ ἑλκύσματα δεινά (evil food for birds of prey and grim pickings for dogs) from Ps. Manetho Apotelesmatica ..
Crucifixion and Burial
There is no indication the slave was buried, in a mass grave or anything else. The elder Seneca, in a rhetorical exercise concerning whether the bodies of homicides should be buried, writes: naufragos idem fluctus, qui expulit, <sepelit;> suffixorum corpora crucibus in sepulturam suam defluunt; eos, qui vivi uruntur, poena funerat. Nature has given forms of burial for all: the wave which flings shipwrecked mariners into the sea also buried them; the bodies of those fastened to crosses decompose into their own burial; the punishment buries those who are burned alive.
Lucan tells the tale of a cannibalistic witch who bites off crucified flesh for her magic recipes: laqueum nodosque nocentis ore suo rupit, pendentia corpora carpsit abrasitque cruces percussaque viscera nimbis vulsit et incoctas admisso sole medullas. insertum manibus chalybem nigramque per artus stillantis tabi saniem virusque coactum sustulit et nervo morsus retinente pependit. She breaks with her teeth the fatal noose, and mangles the carcass that hangs on the gallows, and scrapes the cross of the criminal; she tears away the rainbeaten flesh and the bones calcined by exposure to the sun. She purloins the nails that pierced the hands, the clotted filth, and the black humor of corruption that oozes over all the limbs; and when a muscle resists her teeth, she hangs her weight upon it.
This text implies that corpses were sometimes abandoned on crosses. Plutarch has his own perspective. After mentioning the Cynics Diogenes and Crates, he asks:
ἀλλʼ εἰς σταυρὸν καθηλώσεις ἢ σκόλοπι πήξεις; καὶ τί Θεοδώρῳ μέλει, πότερον ὑπὲρ γῆς ἢ ὑπὸ γῆς σήπεται; Σκυθῶν εὐδαίμονες αὗται ταφαί· Ὑρκανῶν δὲ κύνες Βακτριανῶν δʼ ὄρνιθες νεκροὺς ἐσθίουσι κατὰ νόμους, ὅταν μακαρίου τέλους τυγχάνωσιν. But will you nail him to a cross or impale him on a stake? And what does Theodorus care whether he rots above ground or beneath? Among the Sen. Con. ... Trans. modified of Hengel, Crucifixion, . This is similar to a form of burial Silius Italicus (.–) attributes to the Scythians: at gente in Scythica suffixa cadauera truncis / lenta dies sepelit putri liquentia tabo (and among the Scythian people, slow day buries cadavers fastened to trees, melting in rotting corruption). Luc. .–, trans. of Lucan, The Civil War (J. D. Duff; LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University; London: Heinemann, ) –.
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Scythians such is the manner of happy burial; and among the Hyrcanians dogs, among the Bactrians birds, devour, in accordance with the laws, the bodies of men, when these have met a happy end.
In Plutarch’s version of the narrative of Theodorus, some crucified bodies rot away on the cross. Valerius Maximus tells a version of the story of Polycrates of Samos: Orontes Darii regis praefectus in excelsissimo Mycalensis montis uertice cruci adfixit, e qua putres eius artus et tabido cruore manantia membra atque illam laeuam…situ marcidam Samos…laetis oculis aspexit. Orontes the prefect of king Darius fixed him to a cross on the highest peak of mount Mycale. There Samos, with rejoicing eyes, observed his decaying limbs and members dripping with putrefying blood and his decayed left hand…
In Apuleius’s narrative, one of the thieves contemplates an imaginative execution for the young woman: patibuli cruciatum, cum canes et uultures intima protrahent uiscera (crucified on a patibulum, where the dogs and vultures will drag out her inner viscera). In that text, apparently the thief envisions a crucifixion low to the ground, so that dogs could do their work. A mishnaic text, in a discussion of when a widow may remarry, mentions an individual who bleeds, is crucified, and eaten by wild animals—apparently all at the same time. Semahot, possibly a third˙ century text, ordains rules for a family which has lost a member to crucifixion: אביו ואמו צלובין עמו—לא, אׁשתו צלובה עמו בעיר,מי ׁשהיה בעלה צלוב עמה בעיר אבל, לא יׁשרה בצד זה.יׁשרה באותה העיר אלא אם כן היתה עיר גדולה כאנטוכיא . ואינ הצורה ניכרת בעצמות, עד מתי הוא אסור? עד ׁשיכלה הבׂשר.יׁשרה בצד אחר [A wife] whose husband was crucified in her city, [a man] whose wife is crucified in his city, [a person] whose father and his mother are crucified [in] his Plutarch An. vit. D. Trans. of Plutarch Moralia, vol. (W. G. Helmbold; LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University; London: Heinemann, ) . Cic. Tusc. . has a similar response of Theodorus to king Lysimachus who threatened him with crucifixion. He told him to threaten his own court officials and that he did not care whether he rotted in the air or in the ground: cui cum Lysimachus rex crucem minaretur, ‘istis, quaeso’ inquit ‘ista horribilia minitare purpuratis tuis: Theodori quidem nihil interest, humine an sublime putescat’. The tyrant threatens death and lack of burial in Sen. Dial. ... In Artemidorus Onir. ., dreaming of crucifixion is bad for wealthy people: γυμνοὶ γὰρ σταυροῦνται καὶ τὰς σάρκας ἀπολλύουσιν οἱ σταυρωθέντες (for they are crucified nude, and those who are crucified lose their flesh). Valerius Maximus .. ext.. Apul. Met. .. m. Yeb. :. Cf. Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, .
Crucifixion and Burial [city]—[such a person] should not dwell in that city, unless a city as large as Antioch. He [whose family member was crucified] should not dwell within this border; rather, [such a] mourner should dwell within another border. Until when is this forbidden? Until the flesh was consumed, and there is not the form [of the person] remembered in the bones.
Clearly this text pictures loved ones whose corpses decay on the crosses themselves, and not in shallow graves or any kind of grave. Although not a text specifically mentioning crucifixion, the next example is useful for understanding the situation. A late astrological text describes an unfortunate astrologer who predicted the death of Domitian on the very day of the prediction. The astrologer said he himself would be torn apart by dogs, when challenged to provide a prediction applicable to his own life. Domitian, condemned him to be ‘bound to a stake and burned’ (ἐκέλευσε σταυρῷ προσδεθέντα καυθῆναι) to give the lie to his prediction. The dogs tore the hapless astrologer apart when water quenched the flames. Crossan uses some of these texts to argue that dogs were the normal fate for crucified bodies. But his argument assumes a shallow grave for Jesus, something I have already shown cannot be established from the Gospel of Peter. What I think these texts indicate is that some crucified bodies were simply abandoned on the cross. None of them mention a ‘shallow grave’. What they do show is that in Roman (and presumably Greek) practice the bodies of some crucified individuals were left to decompose on the cross. The picture is horrifying, but undoubtedly the necrotic flesh rotted away, and what was not eaten by birds of prey fell to the ground and was occasionally consumed by dogs. Some of these texts may imply that some crosses were not high. Aubert argues that one generally would not want to see hanging crucified corpses, ‘except for the sake of example’.
. Burial of the Crucified
Several texts from Greco-Roman literature confirm the possible burial of crucified individuals by their families. Petronius tells a story (a fiction within a Semahot . [b] in Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, – (trans.). ˙ Text of D. Zlotnick, The Tractate Mourning (New Haven: Yale University, ) . Testimonia de astrologiis Romanis (CAG VIII.; ,– Cumont). Cf. variations in Suet. Dom. . and Cassius Dio (excerpta Salmasiana [CUFr; III, ,– Boissevain]). Crossan, Jesus, (referring to Hengel, Crucifixion, , , ). H.-R. Weber, The Cross: Tradition and Interpretation (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) estimates a height of seven feet, so that wild animals could tear the bodies apart. In a private communication. Cf. Aubert, ‘Double Standard’, with ref. to Callistratus [era of Septimius Severus], lib. VI de cognitionibus in Dig. ... where notorious bandits are nailed to furcae (forks) to deter other criminals and to console the families of the murdered victims. Furcae has replaced cruces (crosses) in the original text.
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fiction) in which a soldier was guarding bodies of crucified brigands (latrones). The parents of one of the brigands take down their son’s corpse and bury him while the soldier is away seducing a Roman matron whose husband had died. The soldier then nails the husband’s body to the cross instead. This story clearly belongs in section four, but it does indicate (if one can appeal to popular fiction) the concern of families of the crucified who wanted to bury their loved ones. It may imply that permission for burial had to be sought from the magistrate. Ps. Quintilian, in the Major Declamations, describes a trial based on the law that those who desert their parents should remain unburied. A son leaves his blind mother to ransom his father from pirates and gives himself in substitute for his father to the pirates. Later the pirates throw his corpse into the ocean, and it floats back home. The father wants to bury his son, but the mother does not. In the fictional trial (a rhetorical exercise), the father argues: cruces succiduntur, percussos sepeliri carnifex non vetat, ipsi piratae nihil amplius quam proiciunt (crosses are cut down, the executioner does not prevent those executed from being buried, the pirates did no more than cast the body into the sea). Even if the executioner normally left the bodies on the cross, they could be buried if concerned individuals so requested. There was a topos in antiquity of bad governors who exhibited special cruelty in trials and executions. Consequently, one cannot view the behavior of a governor such as Verres as indicative of legal norms. Verres did not prevent parents from burying their executed children—provided they bought the right to do so: agunt eum praecipitem poenae civium Romanorum, quos partim securi percussit, partim in vinculis necavit, partim implorantes iura libertatis et civitatis in crucem sustulit. rapiunt [eum] ad supplicium di patrii, quod iste inventus est qui et e conplexu parentum abreptos filios ad necem duceret, et parentis pretium pro sepultura liberum posceret. He is being swept into madness by those executions of Roman citizens, whom he either beheaded, or imprisoned till they died, or, while they appealed in vain for their rights as free men and Romans, crucified. The gods of our fathers are haling him off to punishment, because he was found capable of tearing sons Petr. .–. Phaed. frag. has a shorter version of the tale. [Quint.] Decl. maior. . (Declamationes XIX maiores Quintiliano falso ascriptae [ed. L. Håkanson; BiTeu; Stuttgart: Teubner, ] ,–). Trans. modified of L. A. Sussman, The Major Declamations Ascribed to Quintilian: A Translation (Frankfurt am Main/ New York: P. Lang, ) . J. Michelfeit, ‘Das “Christenkapitel” des Tacitus’, Gym. () –, esp. argues, from this one text, that crosses were only used once—an inference based on too little evidence. Aubert, ‘Double Standard’, and n. . I thank Prof. Aubert for making this point to me.
Crucifixion and Burial from their fathers’ arms to be dragged to execution, and of making parents buy of him the right to bury their children.
Verres might normally have left bodies to rot on crosses, but he was open to payment. The text indicates that the friends or kin of the crucified individuals had to ask permission to bury the victims, as did Joseph of Arimathaea in the gospel accounts. Cicero also asks the people of Messana why they have not torn down the cross, located next to their port and city, and thrown it into the sea, the cross that still drips with the blood of Gavius, a Roman citizen, before they came to Rome (nec prius illam crucem quae etiamnunc civis Romani sanguine redundat, quae fixa est ad portum urbemque vestram, revellistis neque in profundum abiecistis locumque illum omnem expiastis quam Romam atque in horum conventum adiretis?). The empty cross is a sign that Verres permitted Gavius’s burial. Philo, in his account of Flaccus’s atrocities against the Jewish community during the fall of CE, writes that in earlier times some Jews were taken from crosses and buried during celebrations, such as birthdays of the Augustan emperors:
ἤδη τινὰς οἶδα τῶν ἀνεσκολοπισμένων μελλούσης ἐνίστασθαι τοιαύτης ἐκεχειρίας καθαιρεθέντας καὶ τοῖς συγγενέσιν ἐπὶ τῷ ταφῆς ἀξιωθῆναι καὶ τυχεῖν τῶν νενομισμένων ἀποδοθέντας· I have known cases when on the eve of a holiday of this kind, people who have been crucified have been taken down and their bodies delivered to their kinsfolk, because it was thought well to give them burial and allow them ordinary rites.
In the next passage Philo writes that Flaccus refused to order that those who had died be taken down from the cross, even though it was a holiday like the birth of the emperor. Philo’s texts show that families, at least during holidays and during the rule of some Roman prefects, could recover crucified bodies. There is a parallel between the families’ obtaining permission to recover the corpses of the victims during holidays and Joseph of Arimathaea’s similar action on the eve of the Passover. Cic. Verr. .. Trans. of Cicero, The Verrine Orations (vol. ; L. H. G. Greenwood; LCL; Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University/Heinemann, ) . Verres charged fees for burial after another execution (. Verr. . mercedem funeris et sepulturae). Cic. Verr. .. Philo Flacc. . Trans. of Philo, vol. (F. H. Colson; LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ). Chapman (Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, ) draws attention to the Jews’ opposition to leaving ‘suspended human bodies unburied’. Crossan, Jesus, is aware of this text, but does not use it to revise his position on Jesus’ body being consumed by dogs. Philo Flacc. . Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, argues that ‘Apparently, even the Romans believed that leaving the bodies unburied during a festival committed a sacrilegious offense’ with reference to this text of Philo and John ..
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In the midst of the Jewish war, Josephus depicts the ‘impious’ behavior of the Idumaeans who do not bury the corpses of those whom they have killed in Jerusalem:
προῆλθον δὲ εἰς τοσοῦτον ἀσεβείας ὥστε καὶ ἀτάφους ῥῖψαι, καίτοι τοσαύτην Ἰουδαίων περὶ τὰς ταφὰς πρόνοιαν ποιουμένων, ὥστε καὶ τοὺς ἐκ καταδίκης ἀνεσταυρωμένους πρὸ δύντος ἡλίου καθελεῖν τε καὶ θάπτειν. They came to this point of impiety that they cast out the bodies unburied, even though the Jews show such care for burials that before sundown they take down [the bodies of] those sentenced to crucifixion and bury them.
Presumably Josephus has Roman crucifixions in mind. The important point is that some of these citizens were crucified, and that their families were still allowed to bury them. In Semahot there is a statement that families should not try to steal bodies of ˙ those executed by the Romans: מאימתי מתחילין להן למנות? מׁשעת ׁשנתיאׁשו. אין מונעין מהן לכל דבר,הרוגי מלכות — ולא כׁשופך דמימ בלבד, הרי זה ׁשופך דמים, כל הגונב. אבל לא מלגנוב,מלׁשאול . ומכלל ׁשבתות, ומגלה עריות,אלא כעובד עבודה זרה [Concerning] those executed by a government—there shall not be a withholding from them of any matter [i.e., of any funeral rite]. When do they begin to count their death? From the time they give up hope from asking [for the corpse], but not from stealing [the corpse]. Everyone who steals [the corpse], such a person is [like] one who sheds blood—and not only like one who sheds blood, but also as like one who serves foreign idols, and one who uncovers nakedness, and one who profanes Sabbaths. Josephus, B.J. .. J. Zias and A. Gorski, ‘Capturing a Beautiful Woman at Masada’, Near Eastern Archaeology () –, esp. argue that the skeletal remains of two unburied males in the Northern Palace of Masada were possibly left there by the zealots (there is some doubt about the age of one of the males). The rebels, according to the archaeological evidence, did not use the Northern Palace after CE. For Deut . and Jewish concern for burial see Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, –, , . A. Cohen, The Hebrew English Edition of the Babylonian Talmud: Minor Tractates (London: Soncino, ) b () has ‘from the time that [the relatives] despaired in their appeal [for the body to be delivered to them for burial]’. Semahot . (b). Text from Zlotnick, Tractate Mourning, and comm. on . Trans. of ˙ Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions, –. A few lines later (Semahot ˙ . [b]), there is the discussion (quoted above) of how long a wife shall live in a city after her husband was crucified.
Crucifixion and Burial
In David Chapman’s reasonable interpretation, this concerns the theft of bodies from crosses, but it may be a more general prohibition of theft of bodies from any Roman mechanism of execution. The interpretation in the brackets also seems reasonable, as Chapman notes, given the context. The text indicates that families could sometimes recover the bodies of the executed.
. Conclusions
The conclusions to be drawn from this material are clear and firmly based on evidence. First, the provincial officials, including prefects like Pilate, had a choice when faced with the disposal of the corpses of those condemned to crucifixion. In Palestine, where the evidence shows that Romans crucified Jews in the first century for political disturbances, prefects and procurators were able to do as they pleased. They could classify the disturbances as seditio, or troublemaking (se turbulente gessere), or simply actions against the quies (quiet) of Judaea. The burial of Jehohanan is proof that they could allow burial for one who was ˙ almost certainly a crucified brigand, if Josephus is correct in his picture of the first-century crucifixions. Many bodies in the Roman world were left to rot on crosses, with no burial. Animals probably consumed those cadavers as they gradually decayed. There seem to be no texts from the ancient world that explicitly state that corpses of the crucified were buried in shallow graves. Some texts, such as the lex Puteoli, indicate that bodies were taken to places ‘where there were many cadavers’, but there is no statement that the undertaker’s workers buried them carelessly. One cannot rule out the possibility that some crucified corpses were placed in open pits (puticuli), but Roman texts do not mention it. There are a number of texts that do prove the bodies of the crucified were occasionally buried by people simply concerned to bury the dead or by their family. Those texts show that the narrative of Joseph of Arimathaea’s burial of Jesus would be perfectly comprehensible to a Greco-Roman reader of the gospels and historically credible.
He refers to Zlotnick, Tractate Mourning, . For example, the Platonist critics of Christianity (Celsus, Porphyry, Hierocles, Julian, and Macarius’s anonymous pagan philosopher), while not accepting the resurrection of Christ, do not (according to the surviving evidence) reject the historicity of the burial. Cf. Cook, The Interpretation of the New Testament and M. M. Mitchell, ‘Origen, Celsus and Lucian on the “Dénouement of the Drama” of the Gospels’, Reading Religions in the Ancient World: Essays Presented to Robert McQueen Grant on his th Birthday (ed. D. E. Aune and R. D. Young; NovTSup ; Leiden: Brill, ) –.
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000330
Announcing the Human: Rethinking the Relationship Between Wisdom of Solomon 13–15 and Romans 1.18–2.11 J O NAT HAN A. LI N E BAU G H Durham University, Department of Theology and Religion, Abbey House, Durham DH1 3RS, England. email: [email protected]
Although the relationship between Rom .–. and Wisdom of Solomon – is variously interpreted, those who detect a level of textual engagement tend to agree that while Rom .– critiques Wis .–, Rom .– stands as a compressed yet theologically consistent restatement of Wis .–., .–. This paper challenges this virtual consensus by rereading Rom .– in light of the rhetorical turn at Rom .. The kerygmatic location of Paul’s polemic, together with a series of alterations to the Hellenistic Jewish polemical tradition, suggest an interpretation of Rom .– that runs directly counter to Wisdom of Solomon’s rhetorical and theological purposes in chs. –. Whereas Wisdom of Solomon’s polemic functions to reinforce the anthropological distinction between Jew and Gentile on the basis of true and false worship, Paul reworks the aniconic tradition to establish the essential unity of humanity. Keywords: Romans –, Wisdom of Solomon –, anthropology, idolatry Us and Them, or Us
The story of sin starts in Eden (Wis .–; Rom .). If the beginning of a story was the whole story, then Romans and the Wisdom of Solomon would have a similar tale to tell; and many have assumed that they do. Since Grafe alerted the world of Pauline scholarship to the unusually close connection between Rom .– and Wisdom of Solomon –, readers of Romans have typically read Rom .– as a condensed but consistent restatement of Wisdom of
E. Grafe, ‘Das Verhältniss der paulinischen Schriften zur Sapientia Salmonis’, Theologische Abhandlungen: Carl von Weizsäcker zu seinem siebzigsten Geburtstage . December gewidmet (Freiburg: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. W. Sanday and A. C. Headlam, The Epistle to the Romans (ICC; New York: Scribner’s, ) –, – introduced these parallels to English-speaking scholarship. For a detailed survey of scholarship, see J. R. Dodson, The ‘Powers’ of Personification: Rhetorical Purpose in the Book of Wisdom and the Letter to the Romans (BZNW ; Berlin: de Gruyter, ) –.
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Solomon’s aniconic polemic. Nygren’s Romans commentary problematised this textual relationship by extending the comparison into Romans and Wisdom of Solomon , but even here the theological affinity between Rom .– and Wisdom of Solomon – was affirmed (and exploited). According to his programmatic reading—a reading that dominates modern commentaries —Rom .– reactivates Wisdom of Solomon’s polemical attack on Gentile idolatry and immorality and then (Rom .–), in what Richard Hays calls a rhetorical ‘sting operation’, establishes the hamartiological equality of Jew and Gentile. Interpreted this way, Rom .– is still about Gentile sin; .– simply undermines Wisdom of Solomon’s immunisation of Israel (Wis .–) by pointing to the impartiality of divine judgment (.–) and the presence of sin within the elect nation (.–, –). Campbell, following the unpopular proposals of Schmeller and Porter, has recently radicalised this interpretative trend, arguing that the affinities between Rom .– and Wisdom of Solomon – are so close that Rom .- is properly read as an un-Pauline summary of Wisdom of Solomon’s polemic. The crucial point for our purposes is that these construals, despite their diversity, assume that while Paul critiques Wis .– in Rom .–, Rom .– stands as a compressed but theologically faithful re-presentation of Wisdom of Solomon –. In this respect, Kathy Gaca is something of an outlier. As she reads Rom ., Paul, while speaking within the ‘tradition of Hellenistic Jewish polemic’, has introduced a ‘problematic innovation’: whereas the polemical tradition charges the Gentiles with theological ignorance, Paul ascribes received theological knowledge to Gentiles, thereby accusing them not just of ignorance but of apostasy. For A. Nygren, Commentary on Romans (trans. C. C. Rasmussen; London: SCM, ), compare p. with –. J. D. G. Dunn, Romans – (WBC a; Waco: Word, ) –; J. A. Fitzmyer, Romans (AB ; London: Geoffrey Chapman, ) ; D. J. Moo, The Epistle to the Romans (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) ; E. Lohse, Der Brief an die Römer (KEK ; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) , . R. B. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament (San Francisco: Harper Collins, ) . T. Schmeller, Paulus und die ‘Diatribe’: Eine vergleichende Stilinterpretation (Münster: Aschendorf, ) –. C. L. Porter, ‘Romans .–: Its Role in the Developing Argument’, NTS () –. D. A. Campbell, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) –. In Campbell’s reconstruction, it is not Wisdom of Solomon that speaks, but an adversarial teacher for whom Wisdom of Solomon was a theologically formative text. K. L. Gaca, ‘Paul’s Uncommon Declaration in Romans .– and Its Problematic Legacy for Pagan and Christian Relations’, HTR . () –. Others (e.g. R. Bell, No One Seeks for God: An Exegetical and Theological Study of Romans .–. [WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ] ) have noticed that Rom .– differs from Wisdom of Solomon in a number of ways, but this has generally been used as evidence against Pauline interaction with Wisdom of Solomon. However, as F. Watson (Paul and the Hermeneutics of Faith
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Gaca, however, while Paul alters the accusation (apostasy not ignorance), the identity of the accused (Gentiles) remains unchanged. The terms in which Paul’s rhetorical trap is sprung, however, invite a reconsideration of Paul’s polemical target in Rom .-. The one who judges the other (κρίνεις τὸν ἕτερον, .)—the other being the presumed target of the invectives of .-—is liable to condemnation because he is guilty of the other’s sins (τὰ αὐτὰ πράσσεις, .; ποιῶν αὐτά, .). The effect of this rhetorical move is to eliminate the self-imposed distance between the judge and the other, thereby subjecting the judge to his own condemnation (σεαυτὸν κατακρίνεις, .). Functionally, then, the indictment of Rom .- becomes, at least retroactively, an indictment of the Jew as much as the Gentile. It is this implication that necessitates a reexamination of Rom .-, one which attends more closely to the dramatis personae Paul actually presents, and exhibits a corresponding sensitivity to the inclusion of Israel within the scope of Israel’s own polemical tradition. Because this reading is retrospective—occasioned as it is by the terms of the rhetorical turn at .–—it is necessary to allow our argument to develop in parallel with Paul’s own rhetorical strategy. For this reason, our (brief) first pass through Rom .– will emphasise the similarities between this unit and Wisdom of Solomon – in an effort to highlight the crucial break which occurs at .. What makes this investigation unique, however, is that it intends to take up the invitation to reread Rom .– in light of the polemical twist of Romans . This rereading will attempt to situate Paul’s accusatory announcement of .– within the kergymatic progression of Rom .– and consider the rhetorical function and theological significance of Paul’s alterations to the Hellenistic Jewish polemical tradition. It will be argued that the contextualisation of the Pauline polemic within the apostle’s apocalyptic kerygma (Rom .–), together with his ‘supra-natural theology’ (.–), allusive inclusion of Israel within the history of sin (.), insertion of divine agency into the causal link between idolatry and immorality (., and ), and collapsing of Wisdom of Solomon’s differentiation between types of idolatry (.–) require an
[London: T&T Clark, ] n. ) notes, this assumption ‘implies that “influence” and “differences” are mutually limiting… In fact…the depth of Paul’s engagement with this text is evident precisely at the points he also differs from it’. That the interlocutor of Rom .– is the same figure explicitly identified as a self-proclaimed Jew in . will be argued below. R. Jewett, Romans (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, ) –, like R. Dabelstein, Die Beurteilung der ‘Heiden’ bei Paulus (BBET ; Bern: Lang, ) – before him, argues for the inclusion of Israel within the polemical scope of Rom .–, but this argument is made at the expense of Paul’s engagement with Wisdom of Solomon rather than, as this paper intends, on the basis of a close comparison between Rom .– and Wis –.
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interpretation of Rom .– according to which its polemical target includes, as . indicates, ‘all…humankind’. Thus, my thesis: Paul’s polemic in Rom .–, rather than standing as a compressed but consistent restatement of Wisdom of Solomon –, serves the opposite rhetorical and theological function of Wisdom of Solomon –. This is not to say that these texts exhibit no continuity. On the contrary, the often noted lexical, thematic and argumentative parallels between Rom .–. and Wisdom of Solomon – indicate an engagement which is situated within an antithetical argument. Textual dependence serves the rhetorical function of establishing theological difference. Whereas Wisdom of Solomon’s polemic serves to reinforce the anthropological distinction between Jew and Gentile (qua non-idolaters and idolaters), Paul reworks the aniconic tradition to establish the essential unity of humanity.
Romans .–. and Wisdom of Solomon –: An Initial Reading
Wisdom of Solomon – and Rom .–. are connected by a series of lexical and thematic links and, perhaps more significantly, by a unique argumentative structure. As Watson observes, ‘The argument of Rom .– develops in parallel to Wis .–.’ and, as Campbell remarks, ‘the two argumentative progressions are unique to the Wisdom of Solomon and Romans ’. Both texts argue from a squandered creation-related knowledge of God to a corresponding turn to idolatry that in turn occasions a litany of social and moral perversities, thereby inviting an appropriate exercise of divine judgment. This broad structural continuity conceals numerous and significant theological differences that will be explored after the rhetorical turn of Rom . has been considered. Situating this discontinuity, however, requires that the following analysis emphasise the points of contact between Romans and Wisdom of Solomon, in order to underline C. E. B. Cranfield, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans [ vols.; ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ] . n. ) seems to have intuited a similar reading, but he never developed it outside a footnote. For a detailed list of the lexical parallels, see T. Laato, Paul and Judaism: An Anthropological Approach (trans. T. McElwain; Atlanta: University of South Florida, ) –. Watson, Hermeneutics, . Campbell, Deliverance of God, . While this argumentative sequence is particular to Romans and Wisdom of Solomon, Philo’s De decalogo offers something of a parallel to Wisdom of Solomon in that its denunciation of false-worship moves from the less deplorable act of worshiping heavenly elements or bodies (–; Wis .–) to the absurd practice of worshiping created images (–; Wis .–; .-; .–) which finds its most risible expression in Egyptian animal worship (–; Wis .–); cf. J. M. G. Barclay, Jews in the Mediterranean Disapora: From Alexander to Trajan ( BCE– CE) (Berkeley: University of California, ) .
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the dramatic twist of Romans , which will then point us back to Paul’s unique reworking of the polemical tradition in Romans . (i) A (possible) creation-related knowledge of God has been squandered: Wisdom of Solomon .–; Romans .–. Wisdom of Solomon’s claim that the animal plagues function as the appropriate divine recompense for Egyptian animal worship (.–; .–; .–.) invites an extended reflection on the origin of idolatry and the corresponding divine judgment that confronts it (.–.). Theological knowledge is universally available because, as Wis . states, ‘the greatness and beauty of the created’ (κτίσμα) provides an ‘analogous perception (ἀναλόγως θεωρεῖται) of the creator’ (ὁ γενεσιουργός). Similarly, Paul insists that the ‘knowledge of God’ (τὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ) has been evident ‘since the creation of the world (ἀπὸ κτίσεως κόσμου) because his eternal power and divinity (θειότης, cf. Wis .) are perceivable in the things that have been created/done’ (τοῖς ποιήμασιν, Rom .-). In both texts, however, this (possible) knowledge of the creator is forfeited by worthless (μάταιος, Wis .; ματαιόω, Rom .) fools who either fail to reason from creation to creator (Wis .–) or neglect to honour the God they know (Rom .–). Stupidity, however, is ‘no excuse’; both the ignorant idolaters of Wisdom of Solomon and the rebels against revelation of Romans are ἀναπολόγητος (Wis .; Rom .). (ii) This wasted opportunity to know the true God manifests itself in false religion: Wisdom of Solomon .–., – (and .–); Rom .–. Paul and Wisdom of Solomon appear to agree that humans are fundamentally worshipers, and thus turning from true worship can only be a turning to its opposite— idolatry. Wisdom of Solomon offers a detailed review of the origin of idolatry: leftover lumber becomes a household god (.–), a sailor’s fear of the sea provokes prayer to the powerless (.), an image designed to console a bereaved father gains religious momentum until it achieves legal apotheosis (.–a), the absence of a monarch occasions the fashioning of his image which slips from respect to worship in the popular imagination (.b–), profiteers trade in idols, actively capitalising on the senseless piety of their customers (.–) and, most deplorably, Egyptians worship animals even God failed to bless (.–). Paul, choosing succinctness over subtlety, condenses this complex genesis of idolatry into a single sentence: καὶ ἤλλαξαν τὴν δόξαν τοῦ ἀφθάρτου
θεοῦ ἐν ὁμοιώματι εἰκόνος φθαρτοῦ ἀνθρώπου καὶ πετεινῶν καὶ τετραπόδων
For a detailed analysis of this section, see M. Gilbert, La critique des dieux dans le Livre de la Sagesse (Sg –) (Rome: Biblical Institute, ); cf. M. McGlynn, Divine Judgement and Divine Benevolence in the Book of Wisdom (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –; D. Wintson, The Wisdom of Solomon (AB ; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, ) –. For a detailed tracing of Wisdom of Solomon’s polemic see Gilbert, La critique, –; cf. C. Larcher, Le Livre de la Sagesse, ou, La Sagesse de Salomon ( vols.; Paris: Gabalda, ) ..
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καὶ ἑρπετῶν (Rom .). Paul’s compactness has the advantage of emphasising the oppositeness of idolatry and true worship implicit in much of Wisdom of Solomon’s rhetorical devaluation of the natural origin and impotence of idols. Artifacts which are created by human artisans are obviously, if only implicitly, not themselves creators (cf. Isa .-) and thus, as creatures of creatures, are powerless in response to prayer (Wis .–.; cf. Ps .–). Paul captures this contrast between the creator and the creature in the antithetical presentation of the incorruptible God (ἄφθαρτος θεός) and the corruptible human (φθαρτὸς ἄνθρωπος). Furthermore, Paul’s focus on creaturely idolatry (i.e. animals rather than artifacts) appears to follow the distinctive emphasis of Wisdom of Solomon’s aniconic polemic which ultimately has Egyptian animal worship as its target. (iii) The turn to idols occasions a corresponding decline into immorality: Wisdom of Solomon .–, –; Romans .–. The point is explicit in Wisdom of Solomon: ‘For the idea of idols was the beginning of sexual perversion (ἀρχὴ πορνείας) and the discovery of them was the destruction of life’ (.); and again, ‘for the worship of nameless idols is the beginning and cause and end (ἀρχὴ καὶ αἰτία καὶ πέρας) of every evil’ (.). Without compromising this basic aetiology (idolatry leads to immorality), Paul emphasises the divine agent within the causal process. God delivers idolators over to sin because (διό, .; cf. ., ) they exchanged his glory and truth and failed to acknowledge his divinity (., , ). The effect, in Romans, is an ethical decline, rooted in the meta-sin of idolatry, which spirals downwards into sexual sin (., –) and then overflows into a smorgasbord of non-sexual immorality (.–). While Wisdom of Solomon mixes sexual and non-sexual sins (.–), the Pauline emphasis on gender/sexual denaturalisation is reflected in Wisdom of Solomon’s vice list as it repeatedly refers to the defilement of marriage (.), sex inversion (γενέσεως ἐναλλαγή), marital disorder (γάμων ἀταξία) and adultery (μοιχεία, .). (iv) A fitting divine judgment awaits those guilty of idolatry and the corresponding immorality: Wisdom of Solomon .–; Romans .. Divine judgment upon sin is evident within the historical depreciation of human religion and ethics, but in neither Romans nor Wisdom of Solomon is God’s confrontation with the sinner reducible to anthropological history. In Wisdom of Solomon, those whose history is characterised by the movement from idolatry to immorality
Watson, Hermeneutics, . E. Klostermann, ‘Die adäquate Vergeltung in Röm ,–’, ZNW () –; cf. S. Gathercole, ‘Sin in God’s Economy: Agencies in Romans and ’, Divine and Human Agency in Paul and His Cultural Environment (ed. J. M. G. Barclay and S. J. Gathercole; London: T&T Clark, ) –.
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will be overtaken by ‘just penalties’ (τὰ δίκαια), not because their idols are powerful, but because ‘the just penalty’ (ἡ δίκη) for their sins will ‘always overtake the transgression of the unrighteous’ (.–). It is difficult to fix the juridical context for this coming judgment, but . appears to indicate that Wisdom of Solomon, consistent with its earlier eschatology (Wis –), expects a future divine visitation upon idols/idolaters. According to Paul, idolaters, though theologically ignorant (.), are nevertheless aware of the divine decree ‘that the ones who practise such things [i.e. the idolatry and immorality catalogued in .–] are worthy of death (ἄξιοι θανάτου, Rom .; cf. Wis .). That the execution of this decree awaits an eschatological act of divine judgment is explicitly stated in Rom .–.
The Rhetorical Turn
In Rom . Paul addresses a generic individual (ἄνθρωπος) who is characterised by an ironic combination of judging the people depicted in .- and practising the vices of .-. The effect of this combination—a combination which is paradoxically expressed in the contrast between ἕτερος and αὐτός—is to remove the self-imposed distance between the judge and the other. The judge’s condemnation of the other, because the judge does the same things (τὰ αὐτὰ πράσσεις), is necessarily self-condemnation (σεαυτὸν κατακρίνεις). To expose this identification of the judge and the other, however, Paul does not introduce a new set of criteria by which the judge’s religion and morality is assessed. On the contrary, the judge’s judgment is shown to be self-referential on the basis of the theological principles which shaped the polemic of .-. The repeated use of πράσσω (., ) and ποιέω (.) in conjunction with αὐτός (.) and τοιοῦτος (., ) includes the judge within the pattern of idolatry and immorality outlined in .- and, in particular, with the phrasing of . (οἱ τὰ τοιαῦτα πράσσοντες). Effectively, then, by the judge’s own standards, he is an object of the revelation of divine wrath (.) and thus under the divine death sentence of Rom .. The judge, however, appears to disagree. This raises the dual question of the judge’s identity and the rationale behind his assumed immunity from both the logic of his own judgment and, more fundamentally, the judgment of God (τὸ κρίμα τοῦ θεοῦ, .). As to identity, despite some continued scholarly
Codex Alexandrinus (A) has ἀδίκα instead of δίκαια; see McGlynn, Divine Judgement, n. . Campbell (Deliverance of God, ) helpfully refers to this rhetorical tactic as ‘universalization’—‘an argumentative concession that can be forced onto the proponents of any position by insisting that the principles within that position…be applied consistently to its proponents’.
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protest, the generic judge of .– should be associated with the Jew of .. While the evidence for this assertion includes matters of genre, scriptural quotation and thematic links between .– and .–, the most compelling (and relevant) evidence is that Paul’s argument assumes that the judge of .– endorses his critique of false-religion in .– and thus the entirety of .– operates within the parameters of what Wischmeyer calls ‘der innerjüdische Israel-Diskurs’. More specifically, Rom .–, as will be demonstrated below, engages with Wisdom of Solomon by arguing from theological principles articulated in Wisdom of Solomon. Thus, to say that the judge is a Jew is only a partial answer. Paul’s continued engagement with Wisdom of Solomon in Rom .– establishes both the Jewishness of his interlocutor’s theology and, more specifically, forces us to say with Käsemann that .– ‘ist einzig Polemik gegen jene jüdische Tradition begreiflich, welche sich am deutlichsten und teilweise mit gleicher Begrifflichkeit in Sap. Sal ,ff. äußert’. In other words, Paul’s Jewish interlocutor is neither a generic human nor a generic Jew; he is a Jew in the theological tradition of the Wisdom of Solomon. This association of the judge and the theology of Wisdom of Solomon is evident in his implicit affirmation of the polemical content of .–, his presumed immunity from divine judgment and the language in which Paul launches his critique. Paul’s indication that his interlocutor assumes he will ‘escape the judgment of God’ (Rom .) alludes to and attacks one of Wisdom of Solomon’s central theological convictions: Israel is different because Israel is not idolatrous. Paul’s polemical turn towards Israel in Rom . occurs at the same argumentative moment (and in much the same language) as Wisdom of Solomon’s polemical pause in relation to Israel at .–: But you our God are kind (χρηστός) and true, patient (μακρόθυμος) and managing all things in mercy. For if we sin we are yours, knowing your power; but we will not sin, knowing that we are reckoned as yours. For to understand you is complete righteousness, and to know your power is the root of immortality. For neither has the evil intent of human art deceived us, nor the useless labour of painters… See e.g. S. K. Stowers, A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University, ) –. So Watson, Paul, Judaism and the Gentiles, ; S. J. Gathercole, Where is Boasting? Early Jewish Soteriology and Paul’s Response in Romans – (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) –. O. Wischmeyer, ‘Römer .- als Teil der Gerichtsrede des Paulus gegen die Menschheit’, NTS () – (). E. Käsemann, An die Römer (HNT a; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) .
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Here, as in Exod .-, which this paragraph echoes, divine patience and mercy anchor an assurance that sin does not disqualify Israel from being God’s people (cf. σοί ἐσμεν, σοὶ λελογίσμεθα, Wis . with ἐσόμεθα σοί, Exod ., LXX). As Barclay notes, ‘the reference to sin (“even if we sin”) picks up Moses’ confidence that “you will forgive our sins and our iniquities” (Exod ., LXX)’. However, whereas Moses utters these words in the wake of the Golden Calf episode, Wisdom of Solomon contextualises this confidence within an assurance that Israel does not and will not worship idols because they know God’ (‘we will not sin’, .b; ‘the evil intent of human art has not deceived us’, .). Thus, while Wisdom of Solomon echoes Exod .-, it decontextualises divine mercy: ‘Wisdom does not make, and could not make, reference to the Golden Calf’. Unlike the ungodly who are ignorant of God (.) and thus caught in the inevitable movement from idolatry to immorality (.–, –), Israel knows God and therefore ‘will not sin’ (.b). The function of .- within Wisdom of Solomon’s critique of false-religion is therefore to establish the irreducible difference between Jew and Gentile on the basis of the non-idolatry of the former and the false-worship of the latter. More concisely, Wisdom of Solomon’s anthropological dualism is built on Israel’s immunity from idolatry. It is this foundational presumption that Paul challenges in Rom .–.. Paul’s reference to the kindness (χρηστότης) and patience (μακροθυμία) of God (Rom .) echoes Wisdom of Solomon’s echo of Exodus . Paul, however, is quick to remind his interlocutor of an essential element of Wisdom of Solomon’s theology: God mercifully ‘overlooks human sin for the sake of repentance’ (εἰς μετάνοιαν, Wis .; cf. Rom .). Whereas Wis .– suggests that an awareness of the divine attributes renders potential sin an actual impossibility, Paul, like Exodus , locates the operations of divine kindness and patience within the matrix of human idolatry and immorality. Paul thus disputes the assumed immunity of the judge who, in Rom .–, appears to base his self-differentiation vis-à-vis the other on the same religious and ethical criteria Wisdom of Solomon employs to construct the Jew/Gentile dualism. Assuming that the history of Rom Larcher, Livre, .–; cf. H. Hübner, Die Weisheit Salomons (ATD Apokryphen ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –. J. M. G. Barclay, ‘“I will have mercy on whom I have mercy”: The Golden Calf and Divine Mercy in Romans – and Second Temple Judaism’, Early Christianity () – (). Barclay, ‘ “I will have mercy’”, . Gathercole, Where is Boasting, notes that Rom .- and .- also provide what he terms ‘phenomenological evidence’ and ‘scriptural evidence’ for Israel’s sinfulness. On Paul’s use of Wisdom of Solomon’s theology and language against his interlocutor, see Watson, Hermeneutics, . Pace K. Yinger (Paul, Judaism and Judgement according to Deeds [SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ] –) who argues that Paul is not disputing a Jew ‘claiming “we have not sinned”…but Jews or Jewish Christians claiming that they will not be treated the same way as the “sinners” in the judgement’. This reflects a representative tendency
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.- is not his history, the judge affirms Paul’s theologoumenon: οἱ τὰ τοιαῦτα πράσσοντες ἄξιοι θανάτου (Rom .). As Paul’s repeated claim that the judge ‘does the same things’ (., ) implies, however, Paul’s reading of anthropological history includes his interlocutor within the narrative of Rom .-. In other words, for Paul, in opposition to Wisdom of Solomon, ‘the difference between Jew and Gentile’—a difference which Paul maintains (e.g. Rom .; .; .–)— ‘is not’, as Watson observes, ‘the difference between the righteous and the unrighteous’. In Wis .– Israel is different because the nation is not guilty of the idolatry and immorality catalogued in Wis .–.. In Romans the gap between the Jewish judge and the other is erased because Paul’s interlocutor is guilty of the idolatry and immorality catalogued in Rom .–. This inclusion of Paul’s Jewish dialogue partner within the scope of what initially sounds like a Jewish polemic against non-Jews invites a reconsideration of the subtle but substantive differences between Wisdom of Solomon – and Rom .–. To state our thesis in advance, the rhetorical contextualisation of Rom .– within the kerygmatic proclamation of .–, together with the Pauline alterations to Wisdom of Solomon’s critique of non-Jewish religion, broadens the target of Paul’s polemic to include Israel and thus, as Paul announces in ., πᾶσα ἀσέβεια καὶ ἀδικία ἀνθρώπων.
Rereading Romans .-
This rereading will attempt to situate Paul’s accusatory announcement of .– within the kergymatic progression of Rom .- and consider the rhetorical function and theological significance of Paul’s alterations to the Hellenistic Jewish polemical tradition. It will be argued that this rhetorical location, together with Paul’s divergence from Wisdom of Solomon’s aniconic critique, contribute to a universalising of Paul’s polemical target. The anthropological effect is the essential identification of Jew and Gentile as they confront the divine verdict, not as non-idolatrous Jew or idolatrous Gentile, but as ἄνθρωποι.
among Pauline scholars (e.g. B. W. Longenecker, Eschatology and the Covenant: A Comparison of Ezra and Romans – [JSNTSup ; Sheffield: JSOT, ] ; U. Wilckens, Der Brief an die Römer [ vols.; EKKNT; Neukirchen: Benziger, –] .-) to abstract Wis .a (‘even if we sin’) from the more basic insistence that ‘we will not sin’ (.b) and ‘human art has not misled us’ (.). Watson, Hermeneutics, . While it would be over-determined to argue from Paul’s use of ἄνθρωπος to the broadening of his polemical target, it is nevertheless suggestive that ἄνθρωπος is explicitly and intentionally inclusive in Rom . (cf. Gal .) and .–. Even in Rom . where ἄνθρωπος is limited to the Jewish judge, Paul argues from within ‘der innerjüdische Israel-Diskurs’ to ‘eine
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The Kerygmatic Context of Romans .-
Wisdom of Solomon’s aniconic polemic is situated within an extended reflection on Egyptian animal worship and functions primarily as an argument for Israel’s avoidance of idolatry over against non-Jewish religion (.–.). Paul’s polemic finds its rhetorical context within the proclamation of a gospel that addresses both Jew and Gentile with the news of God’s saving righteousness (Rom .–). This contextual contrast generates a difference in genre which Bornkamm identifies as a distinction between ‘Hellenistic apologetic’ (Wisdom of Solomon) and ‘prophetic accusation’ (Romans). Understood within the double-apocalypse of divine righteousness (.) and wrath (.), the Pauline proclamation announces an event. Such a claim, however, states a conclusion ahead of its evidence. To situate the polemic of Rom .- within its apocalyptic and kerygmatic context it is necessary to take a step back and consider the grammatical and theological progression of Rom .-. The apocalypse of wrath in Rom . is connected to the gospel of . through an argumentative chain linked by successive uses of the explanatory γάρ. Paul is not ashamed of the gospel because (γάρ) it is the divine power for salvation because (γάρ) the righteousness of God is revealed in it; for (γάρ) the wrath of God is revealed. Grammatically, the γάρ of . relates ἀποκαλύπτεται ὀργὴ θεοῦ directly to the syntactically similar and ultimately salvific (.) revelation of divine righteousness in .. The crucial question for our purposes is what this grammatical connection indicates about the theological link between the revelations of wrath and righteousness in relation to the gospel. Answers to this question, while diverse, generally take one of two approaches: juxtaposition or progression. According to the former, wrath and righteousness relate as opposites. This reading has always been puzzled by the presence of γάρ in ., but Campbell’s radicalised version of this interpretation explains the γάρ as contributing to the structural parallel between the revelations of wrath and righteousness which, according to his reading, represent two antithetical gospels. As Cranfield observes, however, ‘there would seem to be no
universale Verurteilung’, and therefore his use of ἄνθρωπος has ‘universal-anthropologische Dimensionen’ (Wischmeyer, ‘Römer .–’, ). Bornkamm, ‘The Revelation of God’s Wrath’, . P. Stuhlmacher, Gerechtigkeit Gottes bei Paulus (FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –. M.-J. Lagrange (Saint Paul: Épitre aux Romains [Étbib ; Paris: J. Gabalda, ] ) translates the γάρ with ‘car’, but argues that in this context is has ‘une légère opposition’ (cf. C. H. Dodd, The Epistle to the Romans [MNTC; London: Hodder & Stoughton, ] who refers to the ‘adversative conjunction but in .’). The Pauline gospel (.), defined by a saving righteousness, is set in juxtaposition to the ‘Teacher’s’ gospel (.), which is centred on an eschatological exercise of retributive wrath
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justification (apart from a theological presupposition that it is appropriate to contrast δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ and ὀργὴ θεοῦ)’ to read Rom . and . antithetically. In Campbell’s case at least, his exegesis is clearly driven by a disinclination to permit a theological association between the syntactically linked revelations of righteousness and wrath. In his words, Rom . and . express ‘fundamentally different conceptions of God’. This theological interpretation, however, appears to put asunder that which the apostle has joined together. In Thess . and Rom ., to cite but two examples, salvation is defined as deliverance from divine wrath. Similarly, the natural force of the repeated γάρ of Rom .– coordinates the saving righteousness of God with that from which it saves. Thus, in the interpretative tradition of Sanday and Headlam, we can say that the γάρ of . explains the revelation of righteousness by citing the reason it is required; but we can also say more. This initial answer may appear to imply a movement from wrath to saving righteousness which in turn would seem to support a progressive reading in which the era of wrath precedes the era of righteousness. There are, however, two related reasons why this cannot be sustained. First, as Bornkamm observes, world history prior to the gospel event is not characterised as an era of wrath; rather, for Paul, the time before the revelation of divine righteousness is the period of patience (Rom .-; cf. .). It is this time of divine forbearance that is brought to an end in the present (ἐν τῷ νῦν καιρῷ, .) demonstration of divine righteousness that is the cross of Christ Jesus (.–). The correlation between εἰς ἔνδειξιν τῆς δικαιοσύνης αὐτοῦ (., ) and δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ ἀποκαλύπτεται (.), together with the identical time references indicated by ἐν τῷ νῦν καιρῷ (.) and the present tense of ἀποκαλύπτω (.), indicate that it is, as the connection between . and . suggests, in the gospel event that the divine righteousness is revealed. What then of the revelation of wrath in .? The structural parallelism between the revelations of wrath and righteousness, especially the identical present passive form of ἀποκαλύπτω, suggests
(Campbell, Deliverance of God, –). This construal requires reading Rom .– as a summary of the rhetorical opening of Paul’s opponent whose theology is decisively shaped by Wisdom of Solomon. Such a thesis is seriously called into question by the numerous and significant differences between Rom .– and Wis –. Cranfield, Romans, .–. Campbell, Deliverance of God, . Sanday and Headlam, Romans, . H. Lietzmann, An die Römer (HNT ; Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck], d ed. ) . A variant of this reading does not relate the two eras chronologically but views wrath and righteousness as two spheres of existence corresponding to being outside (wrath) or inside (righteousness) the gospel (e.g. T. Zahn, Der Brief des Paulus an die Römer [KNT ; Leipzig: Deitchert, ] –). Bornkamm, ‘The Revelation of God’s Wrath’, .
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that the dual revelations are tied to a single reality. Read this way, the apocalypse of divine wrath is not only the reason for the revelation of saving righteousness; it is the dark side of the one event which reveals both. The antithesis between wrath and righteousness, therefore, does not indicate the presence of two gospels (contra Campbell); rather it represents the two words of the singular Gospel: wrath and righteousness, condemnation and salvation, death and life, no and yes. In Pauline terms, the cross is the divine enactment of judgment on ungodliness and therefore the justification of the ungodly. Accordingly, the revelation of wrath is, in relation to the gospel, a novum—something heretofore concealed but now unveiled. This brings us back to the difference between Wisdom of Solomon – and Rom .–. In Wisdom of Solomon the anthropological situation is fundamentally knowable. Non-Jewish humanity has foolishly failed to exercise their rational potential, but this failure renders them ignorant, not epistemologically incapable. In Wisdom of Solomon’s words, the non-Jewish world should have known that ‘a corresponding perception of the creator’ is derivable ‘from the greatness and beauty of created things’ (Wis .), but, being ‘foolish by nature’, they failed to think from ‘the good things’ to ‘the one who exists’ (.). Reading Rom .– as if it were Wisdom of Solomon –, Campbell detects what he considers an un-Pauline parallel in the anthropology of Rom .–. According to Campbell, the polemic of Romans presupposes an epistemological openness to the existence and demands of God which is itself the presupposition for the rational transition from wrath to grace. Thus interpreted, the content of Rom Campbell, Deliverance of God, –, attempts to soften the syntactical connection between . and . by interpreting the present tense verb of . as ‘a rare future present’ (cf. Bell, No One Seeks for God, ; H.-J. Eckstein, ‘ “Denn Gottes Zorn wird vom Himmel her offenbar warden”. Exegetische Erwägungen zu Röm ,’, ZNW [] –), but the present time reference of the identical occurrence of ἀποκαλύπτεται in . makes this unlikely. Cf. K. Barth, A Shorter Commentary on Romans (trans. D. H. van Daalen; London: SCM, ) – (see also Church Dogmatics I/, [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ] –). While Barth’s explicit association of the revealed wrath of Rom . and the cross is theologically appropriate, it is exegetically premature. Though divine wrath finds its eschatological manifestation on Golgotha, Rom .–. is that part of the apostolic kerygma which announces God’s wrath which properly stands over humankind and which, as Paul only later reveals, is enacted and exhausted on the cross. R. Jewett, Romans (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, ) –. This is not to suggest that God’s wrath is not operative prior to the gospel events (cf. Rom ., , ). Campbell, Deliverance of God, –. Campbell’s theological concern is to combat a ‘prospective soteriology’ (i.e. plight to solution) which he insists rests on a faulty epistemology that requires an essentially rational rather than revelatory apprehension of the human condition. (This is contrasted with a ‘retrospective soteriology’ [i.e. solution to plight] which allows the liberating gospel to inform its object about its prior captivity.) This epistemological criticism, however, is neutralised if the anthropological content of Rom .–. is situated within the revelatory disclosure of .–.
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.- is essentially and antecedently known, or at least knowable. This, however, is precisely the reading which the apocalyptic and kerygmatic context of . will not allow. In contrast to Wisdom of Solomon’s invitation to reason ‘from below’, Paul’s apocalyptic accusation pronounces the gospel’s verdict on the world. The revelation of wrath is thus a constituent part of the Pauline proclamation (cf. Rom .; Thess .-). Read this way, solution and plight do not exist in a linear relationship that can be plotted in terms of an epistemological process. There can be no sense of a natural, rational awareness of the anthropological situation which somehow functions as a soteriological preface to the proclamation of the gospel. Paul is not arguing from plight to solution or solution to plight; he is, as Seifrid observes, announcing both the solution (.–) and the corresponding plight which it presupposes. There is, then, between solution and plight what we might call an antithetical affinity—the problem and the answer fit. However, an apprehension of this fit—this correspondence between the severity of the crisis and the drama of the divine saving act—is the epistemological product of the theologia crucis. It is the event and proclamation of the cross that reveals both sin and salvation, both wrath and saving righteousness. Within this kerygmatic context, the revelation of divine wrath is not, in contrast to Wisdom of Solomon, reducible to a process of rational deduction. The revelation of divine wrath is, to risk stating the obvious, a revelation.
Paradise Lost: Created-Theology in Romans .-
Romans .- narrates the history of ἀσέβεια and ἀδικία against which God’s wrath of . is revealed. Within the movement of this basic plotline Rom .- establishes humanity as recipients of divine truth, thereby legitimating the accusation that people ‘suppress the truth’ (.). Paul’s reference to ‘the knowledge of God’ (τὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ, .) that has been evident ‘since the creation of the cosmos’ (ἀπὸ κτίσεως κόσμου, .), suggests that, for Paul, the act of creation is the establishment of the divine–human relationship. Within this context, ‘natural theology’ is more properly ‘created-relationality’; it is the theological knowledge presupposed in the original relationship between human creature and divine creator. For Paul, however, what is primal is past (and prologue). According to Wis .-, knowledge of God is an unactualised potential. Creation offers a corresponding knowledge of the creator (.), but the non M. Seifrid, ‘Unrighteous by Faith: Apostolic Proclamation in Romans .–.’, Justification and Variegated Nomism. Vol. , The Paradoxes of Paul (ed. D. A. Carson et al.; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, ) . Cf. F. Watson, Text and Truth: Redefining Biblical Theology (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) –.
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Jewish world failed to reason from ‘the good’ to ‘the one who exists’ (.). In Romans by contrast, τὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ φανερόν ἐστιν ἐν αὐτοῖς; and this because ὁ θεὸς αὐτοῖς ἐφανέρωσεν. Here knowledge of God is a reality on account of divine revelation (cf. .). As Markus Barth replies to his own question—‘What is suppressed?’—it is ‘the factual knowledge of God’. In both Wisdom of Solomon and Romans this possible (Wisdom of Solomon) or actual (Romans) theological knowledge is tied to creation, but it is notable that whereas Wisdom of Solomon argues for a possible theological knowledge derived ‘from’ (ἐκ, ., ) creation, Paul indicates only that God’s revelatory activity has been occurring ‘since’ (ἀπό, Rom .) the creation of the cosmos and that this self-disclosure is somehow related to ‘the things that have been made’. There is, then, a sharp contrast between Wisdom of Solomon’s insistence that though people could and should have known God they are nevertheless ignorant of God (.) and Paul’s declaration that people, γνόντες τὸν θεόν, have failed to honour him. In the one case the knowable God is unknown (Wisdom of Solomon); in the other the unknowable God (τὰ ἀόρατα, .) is known (Romans). ‘For although they knew God…’ (.). This, for Paul, is the problem—not that humanity is ignorant of God, but that humanity knew God. Wisdom of Solomon asserts that Israel’s knowledge of God will prevent sin (.) and the ungodly are defined as such on the basis of their theological ignorance (e.g. .). From a Pauline perspective, knowledge of God does not prevent sin; it is the precondition for creaturely rebellion. As Watson observes, ‘we learn in Rom. .- that to be human is to be the recipient of God’s self-disclosure’; but in Rom .– we also learn that to be human in history is to be a rebel against this creational revelation. ‘Suppressing the truth’ (Rom .) presupposes ‘knowledge of God’ (.). The διότι which connects the two clauses indicates that Paul’s emphasis on the actuality of theological knowledge serves to establish the reality of human rebellion and the legitimacy of divine judgment. By relating divine revelation to creation, Paul effectively includes all humanity within its scope and therefore makes each person a potential rebel. Thus, in contrast to Wisdom of Solomon’s charge that people are ‘without excuse’ because they failed to exercise their epistemic potential and therefore know God, Paul insists that humanity is ‘without excuse’ because the self-revealing God is known.
M. Barth, ‘Speaking of Sin’, SJT () –. Cf. H. Bietenhard, ‘Natürliche Gotteserkenntnis der Heiden? Eine Erwägung zu Röm ’, ThZ () –. Bornkamm, ‘The Revelation of God’s Wrath’, . Watson, Text and Truth, .
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To adapt Gaca’s provocative proposal, Wisdom of Solomon’s polemic targets idiots; Paul aims at apostates. This construal captures the implicit plot of Paul’s polemical proclamation. There is a definite movement from knowledge of God to ignorance, idolatry and immorality. Thus, in contrast to Wisdom of Solomon’s summons to reason ‘from below’ (from creation to creator), Paul announces a revelation ‘from above’. Moreover, whereas Wisdom of Solomon envisages a process of epistemological ascent, Paul tells a story of anthropological decline. As Bell remarks, Rom .– narrates a ‘fall’. In Watson’s words, ‘the effect of the primal revelation was, simply and solely, its own distortion into idolatry’. For Paul, then, idolatry is not a step in the right religious direction; it is the rejection of revelation. The movement of false religion is not from theological ignorance to the almost excusable worship of creation (as in Wisdom of Solomon); it is the distortion of divine self-disclosure—a suppression of theological truth (.) and the exchange of that truth for a lie (.). Consequently, within the Pauline polemic an original, creation-related knowledge of God does not represent an alternative route to theological knowledge. This original revelation is fundamentally rejected revelation (it is past). Its function is therefore not to contribute to theology proper but to establish the reality of human ‘excuselessness’ and therefore to ground the necessity of the re-creative revelation of Rom .– (it is prologue).
Adam, Israel and Everyone: Allusive Inclusion in Romans
Allusions are elusive: they are difficult to identify and, once identified, their meaning and rhetorical function is not always clear. The following analysis of the allusive presence of Adam and Israel in Romans concedes the initial ambiguity of the allusions. It is possible that Paul’s account of human sin draws freely and somewhat indiscriminately from biblical resources. In this broad sense, Westerholm is correct to describe Rom .– as ‘a dramatized depiction of the human condition, recalling many a biblical account…but not retelling any one story’. However, it is precisely as Paul is drawing together these various
Gaca, ‘Paul’s Uncommon Declaration in Romans’, -. Barth (CD I/, ) anticipates Gaca in his suggestion that the gospel’s universality implies a corresponding crisis in which ‘the complaint of apostasy is now expressly and seriously leveled against them all’. Bell, No One Seeks for God, . Watson, Text and Truth, . Cf. Watson, Text and Truth, n. , who rightly notes that the Pauline affirmation of primal revelation occurs within a theological interpretation of the phenomena of idolatry. Cranfield, Romans, .. S. Westerholm, Perspectives Old and New: The ‘Lutheran’ Paul and His Critics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) .
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stories that he effectively constructs a single story—the human story. As argued above, the terms of the rhetorical turn at .– force a rereading of Rom .– which is alert to the inclusion of unexpected characters within the narrative. The following argument should thus be read as an exegetical attempt to re-read Rom .- in light of the implications of .–. In Wisdom of Solomon –, the ignorant idolators do not include Israel (.b–). Paul’s polemic permits no such limitations. Subsuming his polemical addressees under the single term ἄνθρωπος (cf. .), Rom .– tells the tragic tale of human history ‘since the creation of the cosmos’ (ἀπὸ κτίσεως κόσμου, .). This creational context is the first indication that the humanity in question is, both broadly and specifically, Adamic humanity. God’s self-revelation began in the beginning (.). This brings Adam into the story, but the ingressive ἀπό keeps the narrative moving. Put another way, the story of a primordial knowledge of God which is exchanged for a lie is Adam’s story; but for Paul, Adam’s story is never Adam’s story alone. In Rom . Paul traces human sin and the death that accompanies it back to Adam: ‘Therefore, just as sin came into the world through the one man (δι᾽ἑνὸς ἀνθρώπου), and death through sin, so death spread to all because all sinned’. In Pauline theology, the Adamic trespass means death (.), condemnation (., ) and the status of ‘sinner’ (.) for the many who, through Adam’s sin, are subjected to the reign of death (., ). But this universalism also has a particularity. While ‘all sinned’ (.), not all sinned ‘in the likeness of Adam’s trespass’ (ἐπὶ τῷ ὁμοιώματι τῆς παραβάσεως Ἀδάμ, .). That dubious honour had to await the coming of the Mosaic Law (.–) and therefore is a distinction Those who find Adam in Rom include J. Jervell, Imago Dei: Gen ,f. im Spätjudentum, in der Gnosis und in den paulischen Briefen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –; M. D. Hooker, ‘Adam in Romans I’, NTS (–) –; Bell, No One Seeks for God, ; Dunn, Theology of Paul the Apostle, –; J. R. Levison, ‘Adam and Eve in Romans .- and the Greek Life of Adam and Eve’, NTS () –. However, see the cautionary article by A. J. M. Wedderburn, ‘Adam in Paul’s Letter to the Romans’, Studia Biblica III (ed. E. A. Livingstone; JSNTSup ; Sheffield: JSOT, ) –. The strongest evidence for the presence of Adam in Rom is () . probably echoes Gen .a (LXX) in which ἄνθρωπος, εἰκών and ὁμοίωσις (a possible synonym with Paul’s ὁμοίωμα) are all coordinated, () the references to ‘exchange’ (Rom ., ), ‘desire’ (.) and service to the creaturely subservience (.) may be allusions to Gen – which have been, as Levison (‘Adam and Eve’, ) argues, ‘refracted through the lens of a tradition such as we find in the Greek Life of Adam and Eve’, () the possible reflection of Jewish traditions about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the contrast between presumed wisdom and actual folly in ., () the points of contact between Paul’s references to sexual immorality and traditions (e.g. Macc. .–; En. .) about Eve’s temptation relating to unchastity. While Wisdom of Solomon explains the entrance of death in relation to the devil’s agency in Eden (.–), Adam’s particular theological significance is not as the archetypal sinner, but rather as the first figure in a long history of Wisdom saving those who are ‘worthy of her’ (.– ; cf. .).
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unique to Israel. As Gathercole remarks, ‘Here we see that the primeval “fall” of Adam and Eve has…been brought into association with sin under the Law in the life of the people of Israel’. Romans .- makes precisely this point. As in Romans , multiple stories appear to be intermixed. The prohibition against desire (ἐπιθυμία, .), the emphasis on deception (ἐξαπατάω, .; cf. Gen .) and, most notably, the reference to a prior period of aliveness apart from the law (ἐγὼ ἔζων χωρὶς νόμου ποτέ, .) indicate the allusive presence of Adam. However, as Moo and Watson argue, the primary focus of Rom .– is Israel’s encounter with the Mosaic Law. In Watson’s words, ‘The topic here is not the fall but the coming of the law, and the commandment, “You shall not desire” (v. ) is drawn not from Genesis but from the Decalogue (Exod .)’. The absence of an object in relation to the prohibition indicates, as in Philo (Decal. -) and Macc. ., that the tenth commandment is cited here as, in Moo’s phrase, ‘a representative summation’ of the law. The coming of this command (.) is the event of the law’s coming, the conclusion of the period referred to in Rom . (ἀπὸ Ἀδὰμ μέχρι Μωϋσέως). This association of Adam and Israel enables Paul to recast Israel’s confrontation with the law in Edenic terms. In this respect, the selection of the prohibition against desire, rather than forcing a choice between a focus on Israel or Adam, has the effect of bringing Sinai and Eden together. As Chester remarks, Paul ‘creates a fusion between the giving of the command not to eat in the Garden of Eden [and] the giving of the law at Sinai’. Gathercole, ‘Sin in God’s Economy’, n. ; cf. N. T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant: Paul and the Law in Pauline Theology (London: T&T Clark, ) . Ezra ., – offers a similar account of the replication of Adamic sin in Israel’s history. Jewish sources (e.g. Apoc. Mos. .; Apoc. Abr. .) commonly cite ‘desire’ as the root of all sins and therefore link the prohibition against desire to the Eden narrative (Dunn, Theology of Paul the Apostle –, –). G. Bornkamm, ‘Sin, Law and Death: An Exegetical Study of Romans ’, Early Christian Experience (New York: Harper & Row, ) –; H. Hübner, Das Gesetz bei Paulus. Ein Beitrag zum Werden der paulinischen Theologie (FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –; Käsemann, An die Römer, . D. J. Moo, ‘Israel and Paul in Romans .–’, NTS () –; Watson, Hermeneutics, –. This is established primarily on the basis of Paul’s use of νόμος, the similarity between the narrative sequence of this text and, in Moo’s words (), ‘a Pauline theological pattern having to do with the redemptive-historical experience of Israel, the citation of the tenth commandment, the link between the law and life (cf. Lev .; Sir. .) and the connection between “desire” and Israel’s experience in the desert (cf. Cor .-)’. Watson, Hermeneutics, . Moo, ‘Israel and Paul in Romans .–’, n. . G. Theissen, Psychological Aspects of Pauline Theology (trans. J. Galvin; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) –; S. J. Chester, Conversion at Corinth: Perspectives on Conversion in Paul’s Theology and the Corinthian Church (SNTW; London: T&T Clark, ) n. . Chester, Conversion at Corinth, n. .
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By linking desire and death, however, Paul does more than connect the Eden episode and Israel’s sin; he connects quite specifically the Adamic trespass and Israel’s experience under the law in the wilderness. As Watson has thoroughly demonstrated, the ‘correlation of desire and death derives…from Numbers’. Corinthians .–, reading Numbers in a similar fashion to Ps .-, associates Israel’s desire in the desert ( Cor .) with the destruction of nearly the entire wilderness generation (.). Here, the first manifestation of this sin-causing illicit desire is the idolatrous incident of the Golden Calf: ‘Do not be idolators as some of them were; as it is written, “The people sat to eat and drink and rose to play”’ ( Cor ., quoting Exod .). This indicates that the story of desire leading to death that is allusively narrated in Rom .– is in large part the story of Israel’s sin and death at Sinai and in the wilderness. This, crucially, is the story Wisdom of Solomon cannot tell. This brings us back to Romans . Paul, by including Israel within the history of Adamic sin, confronts the realities of Israel’s past that Wisdom of Solomon is forced to erase or displace. As argued above, Wisdom of Solomon alludes to Moses’ confident words in the aftermath of the Golden Calf, but in the same sentence Wisdom of Solomon exonerates Israel from idolatry (Wis .–). That Paul faces precisely this history is strikingly evident in the double allusion of Rom .. We have already noted the probable echo of Gen .a here; but, in keeping with the Pauline association of Adamic and Israelite sin, the primary reference of this verse is to the allusion to the Golden Calf in Ps . (LXX): And they exchanged the glory (καὶ ἠλλάξαντο τὴν δόξαν) that was theirs for the likeness (ὁμοίωμα) of a grass-eating ox (Ps .). And they exchanged the glory (καὶ ἤλλαξαν τὴν δόξαν) of the immortal God for the likeness (ὁμοίωμα) of the image of a mortal man and of birds and fourfooted animals and creeping creatures (Rom .).
Here, to adapt a well-known phrase, we have an echo of Israel in the polemic of Paul. This allusive inclusion of Israel stands in the sharpest possible contrast to Wisdom of Solomon’s claim that Israel is innocent of idolatry (.). There is no room for the Golden Calf in Wisdom of Solomon’s anthropological dualism. The wilderness is the site of blessing and testing for the holy, idolatry-free nation in symmetrical contrast to the plagues which fittingly befell the unrighteous Egyptians (Wis –). As Barclay remarks, ‘the God-aware people of Israel are
Watson, Hermeneutics, . Barth, ‘Speaking of Sin’, : ‘All that Paul says about the foolishness of those that think themselves to be wise, and of the fabrication of quadripedal idols, he says by allusions to OT sayings’.
Announcing the Human
in principle averse to idolatry, and hardly liable to worship a Golden Calf’. But Paul, as Watson comments, ‘faces the fact that the author of Wisdom of Solomon strives to suppress: that the holy nation is itself deeply complicit in the idolatry and ungodliness that it prefers to ascribe to the Gentiles’. As we have seen, for Wisdom of Solomon, Jew and Gentile are irreducibly different qua non-idolaters and idolaters. Consequently, Paul’s inclusion of Israel within the human history of idolatry effectively eliminates the basis on which Wisdom of Solomon’s anthropological dualism is constructed. Romans .- is a polyvalent narrative. The story of the sin of Adamic humanity is told in the Gentile-directed style of Wisdom of Solomon –, but, in contrast to that tradition, the polemical target is broadened to include Israel. Dunn captures this dynamic when he refers to a ‘blending of traditions’ that produces a ‘twofold indictment’, a reference first to ‘the characteristic Jewish condemnation of Gentile religion and sexual practice’ and, secondly, to a ‘reminder that Israel itself falls under the same indictment’. The effect of Rom .– is therefore the opposite of Wisdom of Solomon –. Whereas Wisdom of Solomon explicitly disassociates Israel and idolaters, Rom .- highlights Israel’s idolatry, thereby collapsing the soteriological difference between Jew and Gentile. The contrast is thus between two theological anthropologies. Wisdom of Solomon’s anthropological dualism, which has Israel (righteous) and non-Israel (sinners) as its lowest, irreducible denominators, is confronted by Paul’s anthropological universalism that further reduces the Jew/ Gentile distinction to a single denominator: ἄνθρωπος.
Introducing Divine Agency
Stanley Stowers observes that ‘interpreters have not placed enough emphasis on God’s action in [Romans] .–’. We have already considered the contextualisation of Rom .– within the apostolic announcement of an ultimately salvific divine act and the explicit references to divine self-revelation that ground the claims about a primal theological knowledge. In Romans , however, God’s agency is not only evident in acts of salvation and revelation; it is also active in judgment. Wisdom of Solomon’s explanation of the origin and effects of sin, at least in chs. –, is strictly anthropological. According to Barclay, ‘I Will Have Mercy’, . Watson, Hermeneutics, . Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle, . Dunn appears to overlook the oddity of having these two indictments side by side and that the presence of such a phenomenon represents a significant Pauline alteration to the polemical tradition from which he draws. Stowers, A Rereading of Romans, . Wis . does introduce a supra-human cause within the account of death’s origin, but here the non-human is demonic (διάβολος) not divine.
JONATHAN A. LINEBAUGH
Rom ., and , by contrast, ‘the human situation depicted in Rom derives’, as Beverly Gaventa argues, ‘both from human rebellion against God and from God’s own active role in a cosmic conflict’. The ‘and’ makes all the difference. Paul’s introduction of divine agency into the causal link between idolatry and immorality is unique in the Hellenistic Jewish polemical tradition. The significance of this innovation is underlined by the triple use of the phrase ὁ θεὸς παρέδωκεν (., , ). Gaventa’s consideration of both biblical and non-biblical uses of παραδίδωμι convincingly, if unsurprisingly, demonstrates that ‘handing over virtually always involves a handing over to another agent’. This raises two related questions: whom did God hand over and to whom did he deliver them? Taking the latter question first, Rom ., and all identify that to which people were delivered with an εἰς + accusative clause: εἰς ἀκαθαρσίαν (v. ), εἰς πάθη ἀτιμίας (v. ) and εἰς ἀδόκιμον νοῦν (v. ). According to this reading, the phrase ἐν ταῖς ἐπιθυμίαις τῶν καρδιῶν αὐτῶν that separates the παραδίδωμι and εἰς clauses in . is interpreted causally. This is consistent with both the Pauline ( Cor .) and early Jewish opinion that ‘desire is the origin of every sin’ (Apoc. Mos. .) and means that God hands people over to ‘uncleanness’, ‘dishonourable passions’ and a ‘worthless mind’ because of the desires of their hearts. While these sound more like descriptions of human misbehaviour or depravity than agents, the reappearance of these motifs in Romans—Gaventa cites .–, . and .–—seems to subsume these unnatural disorders under the power of sin. This is not quite the same as saying, as Gaventa does, that ‘uncleanness, dishonorable passions, and a deformed mind are instances of synecdoche; they refer to the anti-God powers, especially the power of Sin’; but it does imply that these human conditions are, in part, the effects of sin and therefore point to its sinister agency. There is, then, a linking of desire and the implicit agency of sin in Rom .. Following a now recurring pattern, this subtly connects the Verdammnisgeschichten of Rom .- and Rom .-. Personified Sin is the main character of Rom .-. With the coming of the prohibition against desiring (ἐπιθυμέω, .), Sin sprang to life and produced ‘all desire’ (πᾶσα ἐπιθυμία, .) in the ‘I’, thus deceiving and murdering him (.). The parallel movement from desire (ἐπιθυμία) to the effects of sin’s agency and ultimately death (.) in Rom .- suggests that Israel, the main focus of Romans , is not excluded from the account of God handing humanity over to the destructive B. R. Gaventa, Our Mother Saint Paul (Louiseville: Westminster John Knox, ) (italics added). Cf. Gathercole, ‘Sin in God’s Economy’, –. Gaventa, Our Mother Saint Paul, . Gaventa, Our Mother Saint Paul, . Cf. Gathercole, ‘Sin in God’s Economy’, –.
Announcing the Human
power of sin in Rom .–. Otherwise expressed, tying the effects of sin to the causal effects of desire, with all its associations with Adam and Israel, contributes to the bringing together of Jew and Gentile under the single term ἄνθρωπος. Thus, in answer to our second question, God handed over humans—Jew and Gentile— to the effects of sin’s agency. In Rom . ἄνθρωπος means ἄνθρωπος; it is an inclusive reference and as such the tragic history of human sin is precisely the human story.
Unsubtle Subversion
‘God’s wrath strikes man’s religion’. This is true in both Wisdom of Solomon – and Romans ; but again, there are crucial differences. There is a subtle differentiation between two types of false worship in Wis .– and .–. The initial focus (vv. –) is on those things created by the divine artisan. Fire, water, air, wind, stars—these ‘created things’ (κτίσμα, .) were taken to be gods (.) with the result that Gentile religion became fixed on the penultimacy of the created rather than its divine cause (., –, ). In .– the focus is no longer on the works of the divine creator, but rather on the artefacts created by humans (cf. .–; .–). Under this general topic, Wisdom of Solomon demonstrates an awareness of various forms of idolatry: personal piety (.–), legal cult (.–) and emperor worship (.–). This differentiated reflection on non-Jewish cult displays a level of acculturated sophistication and subtlety. Whatever Paul is in Romans , he is certainly not subtle. In contrast to Wisdom of Solomon’s careful distinguishing of types of idolatry, Paul’s account reduces idolatry to images of living creatures (Rom .). A similar lack of subtlety is evident as Paul, unlike Wisdom of Solomon’s sensitive evocation of Israel’s aniconic tradition, offers an apparently novel interpretation of idolatry as service to the creature (.). Wisdom of Solomon’s emphasis on the human origin of certain idolatrous artefacts (.–; .–) evokes what Watson calls the ‘craftsman motif’ from Isa .-, and the satirical polemic against the lifeless impotency of idols derives from Ps ..–. Paul’s interpretation, by contrast, seems to come from nowhere. It may be, however, that Paul’s language of ‘exchange’ and its connection to, as Levison writes, ‘the inversion of the human dominion that is established in Gen. .’ reflects an interpretative tradition that includes ‘the exchange of human dominion for subservience to animals’ as an effect of the Edenic fall. In the Greek Life of Adam and Eve the wild animals address
Barth, ‘Speaking of Sin’, . Barclay, Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora, . Watson, Hermeneutics, . Levison, ‘Adam and Eve’, , .
JONATHAN A. LINEBAUGH
the woman after her rebellion: ἡμῶν αἱ φύσεις μετηλλάγησαν (.). That this exchange includes the forfeiting of Adamic dominion is confirmed both by an extra-biblical linking of the Edenic sin with animal rebellion (.) and an eschatological promise that Adam’s rule will be reestablished (), thus indicating that the loss of that rule is presupposed. This connection between Rom ., and an interpretative tradition associated with the Eden narratives further confirms the significance of Adam within Paul’s polemic. Importantly, however, Adam himself is not the polemical target. Paul accuses ἄνθρωποι not Ἀδάμ. Accordingly, the effect of this (possible) allusion to Eden is not to focus on humanity’s progenitor, but rather to reduce humanity to a commonality and thereby to address Jew and Gentile as ἄνθρωπος, as Adamic humans. Read within this rhetorical and theological intention, Paul’s apparently crude collapsing of types of idolatry takes on new significance. Hidden within Paul’s undifferentiated description of false worship is what we might call an unsubtle sophistication—a subversively un-nuanced account of cultic practice which has the effect of collapsing both the difference between types of religion and the associated differences between their practitioners. In Wisdom of Solomon, false religion exists on something of a sliding-scale that moves from mildly condemnable (μέμψις ὀλίγη, . ) to ‘most foolish’ (πάντες ἀφρονέστατοι, .)—that is, from nature worship (.–) to Egyptian animal worship (.–). It is the object of cultic devotion that distinguishes Egyptian from Greek, and ultimately Egyptian and Greek from Jew. In this variegated religious scheme, Israelite religion is set in contrast to a highly differentiated assortment of false religion. Although all non-Jewish religion is false insofar as it is not directed to the one God of Israel, the object of one’s worship remains theologically relevant. Worshiping the works of the creator is closer to the truth than idolising animals that even the creator did not bless (.–). In this sense, there is true religion (Israel) and progressively less true religion. Paul’s perspective is different. Those who worship human images, birds, fourfooted animals and reptiles are all guilty of the single sin of serving the creature rather than the creator (Rom .). Thus, for Paul, cultic practice is not a definitive distinguishing mark of Greeks, Jews and Egyptians. The formal differences between types of false religion only serve to conceal a fundamental material identity. The particular image of cultic devotion is ultimately inconsequential. Either one worships the one God, or one does not. By relativising the anthropological significance of religious differences Paul effectively broadens his polemical scope. In contrast to Wisdom of Solomon’s portrayal of Israel in juxtaposition to a range of false religion (.–; .), for Paul there is only true worship and its opposite. Despite its diversity non-Jewish religion is essentially a singular Watson (Hermeneutics, n. ) considers this possibility: ‘The Pauline conflation might be regarded either as a crude misunderstanding or as a sign of theological sophistication’.
Announcing the Human
entity; and insofar as Israel is complicit in Adamic humanity’s history of idolatry— a reality that Paul’s allusion to the Golden Calf episode in Rom . forces the reader to concede—Israel is placed on the wrong side of the true/false worship divide. Here again, Paul’s alterations to the Hellenistic Jewish polemical tradition have the effect of producing an antithetical anthropology in relation to Wisdom of Solomon’s Jew/Gentile dualism. Whereas Wisdom of Solomon contrasts Israel with various types of idolaters, Paul reduces idolatry to terms reflected in Israel’s original sin at Sinai and thereby includes Israel within humanity’s common hamartiological history.
Conclusion
In the words of Rom ., ‘there is no distinction’. But for Wisdom of Solomon, there is a distinction. Anthropology is reducible no further than the difference between Jew and Gentile because Jews know God and Gentiles are idolatrous. Wisdom of Solomon – serves to reinforce this division by contrasting the idolatry and immorality of non-Jews with Israel’s innocence in relation to idols and the consequent immorality. Paul’s engagement with Wisdom of Solomon – makes precisely the opposite point. The contextualisation of the Pauline polemic within the apocalyptic and kerygmatic context of Rom .–, together with the various alterations Paul introduces into the polemical tradition, serve the single rhetorical and theological aim of eliminating the difference between Jew and Gentile by eliminating the imagined difference between non-idolatry and idolatry. The story of Rom .–, even as it tells the diverse stories of Adam, Israel and the Gentiles, is, as . states, the story of the ἄνθρωπος. By narrating these various stories within and as a single story Paul effectively creates a common human history. Thus, in contrast to Wisdom of Solomon’s irreducible anthropological dualism, Paul announces the essential oneness—coram deo—of all persons; he announces the human.
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000342
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent: An Interpretation of 2 Corinthians 12.7–9 M . DAV I D LI T WA Department of Religious Studies, PO Box 400126, University of Virginia. Charlottesville, VA 22904-4126, USA email: [email protected].
This essay offers a reading of Cor .– in light of a rabbinic story of Moses’ ascent to heaven (b. Šabb. b-a). After an exploration of Moses in Corinthians the author argues that vv. –, like vv. –, constitute an ascent report (vv. –). This ascent report, it is maintained, is structurally parallel to Moses’ heavenly ascent in b. Šabb. b-a. Early traditions of Moses’ ascent to heaven and dominance over angels suggest that Paul knew a form of the Mosaic ascent, and parodied it to highlight his weakness and paradoxical authority in vv. –. Keywords: Moses, Cor .–, heavenly ascent, Paul and Rabbinic literature, angel of Satan, parody Introduction
Paul’s account of his ascent to the third heaven ( Cor .–) is a classic crux interpretum. The report, coming on suddenly and forcefully, raises critical questions. What does the report have to do with the broader issue of Paul’s legitimacy as an apostle? How does Paul’s ascent demonstrate his weakness (.; ., )? How does one properly connect Paul’s ascent experience with his ‘thorn in the flesh’ (vv. –)?
Paul’s legitimacy as an apostle is widely recognized as the key issue in the ‘Four Chapter Letter’ ( Cor –). See, e.g., G. Strecker, ‘Die Legitimität des paulinischen Apostolates nach Korinther –’, NTS () –. Commentators recognize that Paul’s ascent to paradise is not an instance of weakness and thus find difficulty integrating it into a speech whose overall aim is to demonstrate weakness. See, e.g., Margaret E. Thrall, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians ( vols.; ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) .; Laurence Welborn, ‘The Runaway Paul’, HTR () – (). Thrall recognizes that Paul’s ascent is ‘integrally connected’ with his experience with the thorn (Commentary, .), but cannot explain the logic of the connection (.). Murray Harris notes a temporal link between the ascent (vv. –) and Paul’s reception of the thorn, but no logical link (The Second Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text [NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ] ). For Frank Matera, the thorn is the ‘result’
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
This essay will attempt to answer these questions with a proposed new reading of Cor .–. After a brief exploration of Moses in Corinthians (Part I), and a brief exegesis of vv. – (Part II), this essay will argue that Paul’s ascent report follows a tradition of Moses’ ascent preserved in rabbinic literature (Part III). Paul uses this tradition, it is proposed, to structure his ascent report in vv. –, but parodies it to highlight his weakness (Part IV).
Part I: Moses In Corinthians
In Corinthians , after comparing the significance of the old and new covenants (vv. –), Paul contrasts Moses’ timidity with his boldness as God’s minister (vv. –). His statements, despite their polemical character, indicate the pervasive importance of Moses for Paul. The Apostle’s very attempt to outstrip Moses in glory assumes the glory of Moses’ ministry (.–). In other parts of Corinthians, it seems, Moses continues to act behind the scenes. In ., Paul claims that he has performed ‘signs and wonders’ (σημεῖα τε καὶ τέρατα) a phrase often designating the miracles of Moses (cf. Deut .; Ps .–; Wis .–; Acts .; Philo Mos. .). In ch. , Paul’s insistence on being clothed with a heavenly body recalls Moses stripping off his flesh at death (Philo Virt. ). In ch. , the Christ speaking through Paul (v. ) is reminiscent of Moses speaking as if with the voice of God (Josephus Ant. .–). Moreover, the whole emphasis in Corinthians on wisdom and powerful speech (esp. chs. – ; –) may partially be explained by devotion to Moses as a prophet of consummate wisdom and (rhetorical) power in Hellenistic-Jewish apologetic. The abundance of references—implicit and explicit—to Moses in the Corinthian correspondence (cf. Cor .–) suggests that Moses was an important figure for Paul’s opponents in Corinth. Although we cannot, like Georgi, determine the precise role of Moses for Paul’s enemies, we can at least surmise
or ‘outcome’ of Paul’s heavenly ascent, but he does not explain why (II Corinthians: A Commentary [NTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ] , ). For Paul’s depiction of Moses in general, see the recent article by Gerhard Dautzenberg, ‘Mose und das Neue Testament. Zwischen Vereinnahmung und Abstossung?’, Studien zur paulinischen Theologie und zur frühchristlichen Rezeption des Alten Testaments (ed. Dieter Sänger; Giessen: Selbstverlag des Fachbereichs, ) –. Cf. Carol K. Stockhausen, Moses’ Veil and the Glory of the New Covenant: The Exegetical Substructure of II Cor. ,–, (Rome: Biblical Pontifical Institute, ) –, –. Thrall, ‘ “Putting On” or “Stripping Off”’, New Testament Textual Criticism (ed. E. J. Epp and G. Fee; Oxford: Clarendon, ) –, esp. –. Apart from his devotion to the θεῖος ἀνήρ typology, Dieter Georgi’s study of Moses in Hellenistic-Jewish apologetic remains valuable (The Opponents of Paul in Second Corinthians [Philadelphia: Fortress, ] esp. –).
M. DAVID LITWA
that they appealed to him as a figure of impressive authority. Paul’s opponents, it seems, negatively compared Paul with Moses’ glory, wisdom, and power in order to expose Paul’s lack of authority. Reading between the lines, then, it appears that Paul’s problem in Corinth is a lack not only of qualifications, but of distinctly Mosaic qualifications. One of the keys to Paul’s defense, then, is to show how he fits—and better fills—the Mosaic pattern of authority. Paul’s culminating defense of his apostolic authority is his ascent report in Cor .–. The possibility that Moses might lurk behind this passage as well is the central issue we will explore in this essay. A full-blown comparison of Moses’ and Paul’s heavenly ascents would require a comprehensive exegesis of Cor .–. Such a project exceeds the limits of this study. Our comparison between the Pauline and Mosaic ascents will focus on Cor .–. Since these verses are not normally seen as an independent ascent report, my choice to see them as such must be justified. This is the task of Part II. Part II: A Proposed Reading of Corinthians .–
As an introduction to our discussion of vv. –, I offer the following translation.
And (καί) in the intensity of the revelations (τῇ ὑπερβολῇ τῶν ἀποκαλύψεων), in order that I might not be lifted up higher (ἵνα μὴ ὑπεραίρωμαι), there was given to me (ἐδόθη) a thorn against the flesh (σκόλοψ τῇ σαρκί), an angel of Satan (ἄγγελος Σατανᾶ) to thrash me (κολαϕίζῃ), lest I be lifted up higher. About him I begged (παρεκάλεσα) the Lord three times that he might get away from me (ἀποστῇ ἀπʼ ἐμοῦ).
Then he announced to me ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness’. Gladly, then, I will rather boast in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ might tabernacle over me.
It is generally thought that the episode related in these verses is not an ascent experience (as is vv. –). The basis for thinking this is a putative difference in style and setting in vv. – and –. Upon closer examination, however, the style and setting are not opposed. Verses – exude the same aura of mystery and obscurity as vv. –. In both passages, Paul uses aorist main verbs to describe an event in the past (v. , ἡρπάγη, ἤκουσεν; vv. –, ἐδόθη, παρεκάλεσα). The present subjunctives in v. (ὑπεραίρωμαι, κολαϕίζῃ) do not indicate time (as if Moses as paradigm of religious authority and legitimacy for religious leaders is a pervasive theme in apocryphal and pseudepigraphical literature (Scott Hafemann, ‘Moses in the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha: A Survey’, JSP [] –, esp. ). The view is almost universal. A recent exception is Paula Gooder, Only the Third Heaven? Corinthians .– and Heavenly Ascent (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) . For this claim, see Victor P. Furnish, II Corinthians (AB a; Garden City: Doubleday, ) ; and Thrall, Commentary, ..
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
Paul shifted from past to present), but aspect; in this case, continuous action in the past. Thus Paul neither assumes nor sets a new narrative context for vv. –. Consequently, the interpreter is led to understand these verses as describing an event parallel to that in vv. –, namely an ascent to heaven. Furthermore, repetition of similar vocabulary indicates that vv. – and – are structurally parallel. Καυχᾶσθαι δεῖ, οὐ συμϕέρον μέν,
ἐὰν γὰρ θελήσω καυχήσασθαι,
ἐλεύσομαι δὲ
…
εἰς ὀπτασίας καὶ ἀποκαλύψεις κυρίου.
καὶ τῇ ὑπερβολῇ τῶν ἀποκαλύψεων.
…
…
ὑπὲρ τοῦ τοιούτου καυχήσομαι,
ἥδιστα οὖν μᾶλλον καυχήσομαι ἐν ταῖς ἀσθενείαις μου, ἵνα ἐπισκηνώσῃ ἐπʼ ἐμὲ ἡ δύναμις τοῦ Χριστοῦ.
ὑπὲρ δὲ ἐμαυτοῦ οὐ καυχήσομαι εἰ μὴ ἐν ταῖς ἀσθενείαις.
διὸ εὐδοκῶ ἐν ἀσθενείαις …
As if framed in two corresponding panels, both vv. – and – begin with a reference to boasting in revelations, and end with a reference to boasting in weaknesses. What seems to be the case, then, is that vv. – (more narrowly, vv. –) and vv. – (more narrowly vv. –) recount two parallel revelations received in the same context: an ascent to heaven. In both accounts, the subject of the ascent is Paul. In vv. –, Paul objectivizes himself (‘I know a person in Christ’, v. ), because he would not boast of his perceived strength (the attaining of paradise). In vv. –, he describes a weakness which he felt he could flaunt in the first person. Verses – together serve as a transition from Paul’s third-person (non-selfreferential) boast to his first-person boast of his ascent. In v. , Paul refuses to take credit for a perceived strength (the great revelations), although he wants the Corinthians to know that his ascent experience was real (v. a). What he wishes to highlight about his ascent (i.e., the weakness he experienced in it), he insists on giving as a firsthand report (what is seen and heard ‘from me’ [ἐξ ἐμοῦ], v. b). Verse b thus functions as a transition to v. , where Paul’s firsthand (flagged by the first person) account of his ascent begins. Michael Goulder’s view, that the ‘man in Christ’ in vv. – is a missionary companion, does not take seriously enough Paul’s exceedingly personal plea for his own authority, his rhetorical ability, and the ability of the Corinthians to understand this rhetoric (‘Visions and Revelations of the Lord [ Corinthians :–]’, Paul and the Corinthians: Studies on a Community in Conflict. Essays in Honour of Margaret Thrall [ed. Trevor J. Burke and J. Keith Elliot; Leiden: Brill, ] ).
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The dative τῇ ὑπερβολῇ can express intensity or frequency. Intensity (as translated above) is the more common connotation of Paul’s ὑπερ- compounds (see esp. ., ), and fits well here. ‘Revelations’ (ἀποκαλύψεις) is plural likely due to the multi-tiered structure of heaven. At each level of heaven, Paul was shown new mysteries, a frequent topos in ascent texts (e.g., T. Levi .–; En. –; Ascen. Isa. –). The διό (‘therefore’) launching v. b (left untranslated above) is not found in many important manuscripts (P D Ψ itd,ar syrp,h copsah Irlat Orlat Hier). The combination of P with ‘Western’ witnesses (in particular D itd,ar Irlat) is especially powerful, as Günther Zuntz has shown. Transcriptionally, the διό seems to be a scribal addition attempting to divide Paul’s precipative discourse into distinct semantic units. Functionally, it makes what follows into a new sentence. Some scholars who accept the διό are inclined to take v. a with the last idea of v. (what is ‘seen and heard’ from Paul), and understand the initial καί as specifying what is seen or heard, as introducing a concession (NRSV), or as introducing a reason. Nevertheless, it is best, along with other exegetes, to understand v. a as introducing the following phrases (through v. ). The statement ‘that I might not be lifted higher’ is a literal translation of ἵνα μὴ ὑπεραίρωμαι. Most interpreters understand this phrase not spatially but attitudinally, as referring to Paul’s high (i.e., prideful) state of mind. This understanding of ὑπεραίρωμαι has good lexical support. The verb, however, can also simply mean ‘rise above’ (in the middle voice) or ‘be lifted up higher’ (in the passive). This passive meaning would certainly fit the context of an ascent report. It would signify that Paul is literally ascending to an incredible height.
The Text of the Epistles: A Disquisition Upon the Corpus Paulinum (London: Oxford University, ) –. Murray Harris asserts that διό is the harder reading (Commentary, ). As he notes, however, it is only harder if one assumes that v. a begins a new sentence. For those who see v. b as beginning the new sentence, the διό presents a smoother, stylistically improved text. Likely, then, the scribes who produced the more polished Alexandrian text saw v. b as beginning a new sentence, and inserted the διό to make this clear. Ralph P. Martin, Corinthians (WBC ; Waco: Word, ) . Furnish, II Corinthians, ; C. K. Barrett, A Commentary on the Second Epistle to the Corinthians (ed. Henry Chadwick; New York: Harper & Row, ) . Rudolf Bultmann, Der zweite Brief an die Korinther (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) ; A. Plummer, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Second Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) ; Barrett, Commentary, . See also Thrall, Commentary, . n. . LSJ ‘ὑπεραίρω’ suggests ‘to be lifted up’ as the meaning of ὑπεραίρωμαι in Cor . (Oxford: Clarendon, ) . This meaning would be parallel to the passive uses of ἁρπάζω (‘to be snatched up’) in vv. , . Gooder sees a double entendre in the verb: Paul becomes elated as he was literally lifted up (Gooder, Third Heaven, ). LSJ ‘ὑπεραίρω’, II..
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
To prevent the Apostle from ascending too high (and thus becoming elated), the Lord gave him (ἐδόθη is most likely a divine passive) a σκόλοψ τῇ σαρκί. This phrase, usually translated into English as ‘thorn in the flesh’ (locative dative), is probably better translated ‘thorn for (or against) the flesh’ (dative of disadvantage). Since the ‘angel of Satan’ is in apposition to the thorn, one is probably meant to understand them as identical. Accepting this point allows one to bypass the massive speculation about the thorn as something other than or caused by the angel. Most importantly, it allows one to see that when Paul talks about his thorn, he is talking about what happened to him in the context of his ascent described in vv. –. In short, the thorn is the angel he encounters in an ascent to heaven. That in a journey to heaven Paul would have met with a hostile angel is not a strange idea, as David Abernathy has shown. He points out that Paul did not ask to be healed from the thorn/angel, but that the thorn/angel depart (ἀποστῇ) from him. Moreover, Paul did not employ ὡς with ἄγγελος Σατανᾶ to signal a simile or metaphor (‘like an angel of Satan’); he simply said ἄγγελος Σατανᾶ, ‘angel of Satan’. If Satan masquerades as a literal angel of light in Cor ., there is little reason to view the ‘angel of Satan’ metaphorically in .. That this ‘angel of Satan’ designates a literal angel is also supported by comparison with ancient Jewish literature. In the Septuagint, angels are regularly sent to punish the wicked (Gen ; Num .; Sam = Chron ; Ps .– ; .). Yet they also attack the righteous. For instance, an angel attacked Jacob at the Jabbok (Gen .–), and Moses on his way from Midian to Egypt (Exod .–). In the eighth century B.C.E., Isaiah had a vision of fiery angels protecting God’s temple from defilement. When he confessed himself to be ‘a man of unclean lips’, a seraph swooped down to the prophet and purified his mouth by fire (Isa .–). The pain this would have (presumably) caused Isaiah’s flesh indicates that the seraph’s action may not have been purely benevolent. At this stage, however, angelic animosity is muffled if present at all. Only in Maccabees do the The literature on the thorn is endless. For the main viewpoints, see Thrall, Commentary, .–. ‘Paul’s Thorn in the Flesh: A Messenger of Satan?’, Neot () –. The idea was first proposed by Robert Price, ‘Punished in Paradise (an Exegetical Theory on II Corinthians .–)’, JSNT () –. Plummer points out that ἀϕίστημι in the New Testament is always used of persons (Second Epistle, ). See esp. Luke .; Acts .. Abernathy, ‘Paul’s Thorn’, . See in general on this topic Johann Maier, ‘Das Gefährdungsmotiv bei der Himmelsreise in der jüdischen Apokalyptic und “Gnosis”’, Kairos () –; Joseph Schultz, ‘Angelic Opposition to the Ascension of Moses and the Revelation of the Law’, JQR () –. In Jub. .–, it is Mastema who is said to attack Moses. In b. Ned. b-a, it is said that Satan attacked Moses on his return to Egypt.
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angelic guards of the temple first openly attack. In ch. of this work, they lash Heliodorus, official of King Seleucus, for attempting to enter the temple (vv. –; cf. Macc. .–.). The taint of (Gentile) impurity is likely in view here. Yet such attacking angels are, it seems, far from being ‘angels of Satan’. The exegetical origin of the adversarial angel may lie in the J source of Genesis. Paradise was guarded by a cherub with a swiveling, fiery sword (Gen .). This cherub, clearly a servant of God, would presumably destroy anyone who sought to reenter Eden. Later in the Pentateuch we have reference to an angel who opposed Balaam three times as ‘a satan’ (—לשטןhere meaning ‘adversary’; Num .–). Here ‘the satan’ is no apostate demon, but the ‘angel of YHWH’ ()מלאך יהוה, or in Greek ‘the angel of God’ (LXX ὁ ἄγγελος τοῦ θεοῦ; Num .). It is possible that Paul weaved Gen . and Num .– together to arrive at an account in which he was blocked from paradise by a ‘satanic’ (= adversarial) angel. It is also possible that Paul wove in an exegetical strand from Job, where ‘the satan’ ( )השטןappears as a character with new independence and personality. In Job , the satan presented himself to the Lord as one of the ‘sons of God’, i.e., one of God’s angelic chiefs of staff (Job .). His charge, it seems, was to discover the sins of human beings and to expose them on high. The accuser attacked both Job’s property and his person. In the Testament of Job, Satan (now apparently a personal name) likened himself to a wrestler who pinned Job to the ground and bruised his limbs (.–). Job was attacked on earth, but attacks of the accuser were later thought to occur in heaven. In the Apocalypse of Zephaniah, a work likely dating before C.E., Zephaniah goes on a heavenly journey which leads him to Hades (.). There he is confronted by the accuser, called ‘the great angel’ (., ) whom Zephaniah at first mistakenly thinks is God (.–). The accuser unfurls a manuscript which contains a full list of Zephaniah’s sins (.–). Terrified, the prophet prays to the Lord for deliverance from the accuser (.–), and forgiveness for his sins (.). Accuser angels in the heavens are also found in the Parables of Enoch ( En. –). In his first parable, Enoch ascends to the celestial throne room. There he sees angelic accusers, literally ‘satans’. They do not accuse Enoch in heaven,
V. Jegher-Bucher, ‘The Thorn in the Flesh/Der Pfahl im Fleisch. Considerations about Corinthians .– in Connection with .–’, The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture (ed. Stanley Porter and T. H. Olbricht; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ) –, –. O. S. Wintermute dates the Apocalypse of Zephaniah between B.C.E. and C.E. If the proEdomite tradition in . derives from the author, Wintermute is inclined to assign the work a date before C.E. (OTP .–; see also n. b). For the place of punishment as situated in heaven, see, e.g., Apoc. Abr. .–. Cf. Apoc. Abr. .; PGM .–.
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since apparently he is pure. To prevent them from accusing those on earth, they are expelled by the voice of the angel Phanuel ( En. .–). An accuser figure also appears in the Ascension of Isaiah (early second century C.E.). As Isaiah mounts to the highest heaven, the angel in charge of the praise of the sixth heaven cries out. ‘How far is he who dwells in the flesh to go up!?’ This angel, implicitly charging Isaiah with impurity, is clearly eager to guard against the defilement of God’s heavenly temple (.–; cf. .; .). A similar pattern occurs in the Apocalypse of Abraham. In a preparatory ritual of ascent, ‘an unclean bird’ flies down to Abraham and asks ‘What are you doing…on the holy heights, where no one eats or drinks…?’ (.). The bird is identified as the evil angel ‘Azazel’. Angelic hostility occurs again in early rabbinic literature. In the Baraita deRabbi Ishmael (attached as a prologue to Sifra), R. Yose the Galilean understands God’s declaration to Moses on Sinai, ‘I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by’ (Exod .), to teach that ‘power was given to the destroyers to destroy (( ’)ניתנה רשות למחבלים לחבלPereq .). A variant reading of ‘destroyers’ is ‘angels’ ()מלאכים, and this is most likely how the passage is to be understood. Here God’s hand does not protect Moses, but refers to the angels who can destroy him. Attacking angels are also part of the story of the four rabbis who journeyed to paradise (t. Hag. .; y. Hag. b; b. Hag. b-b; Cant. R. . [= ..]; m. Meg ˙ ˙ ˙ .). In the rabbinic and Hekhalot literature, Paradise ( )פרדסbecame a technical term for the Holy of Holies in the highest heaven. As in the Ascension of Isaiah, it was the duty of the priestly angelic ministers ( )מלאכי השירתto keep impure beings out of God’s sanctuary. When these ‘ministering angels’ want to attack R. Akiva, God warns them, ‘Leave this elder alone, for he is worthy to make use of my glory’. This text, reminiscent of Ascen. Isa. .–, is from the Bavli (b. Hag. b). ˙ Other MSS read ‘among aliens’. R. Rubinkiewicz dates this work to the interval between and C.E., OTP .. The Baraita is of course only attributed to R. Ishmael. The source could be late Tannaitic (Menahem Kahana, ‘The Halakhic Midrashim’, The Literature of the Sages [ed. Shmuel Safrai et al.; vols.; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum; Philadelphia: Fortress, ] .) or Amoraic (Gary G. Porton, The Traditions of Rabbi Ishmael [ vols.; Leiden: Brill, ] .). Louis Finkelstein, Sifra on Leviticus according to Vatican Manuscript Assemani with Variants from the Other Manuscripts, Genizah Fragments, Early Editions and Quotations by Medieval Authorities ( vols.; New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, ) .. Finkelstein, Sifra on Leviticus, .. C. R. A. Morray-Jones, ‘Paradise Revisited ( Cor .–): The Jewish Mystical Background of Paul’s Apostolate. Part : The Jewish Sources’, HTR . () n. . C. R. A. Morray-Jones, Transparent Illusion: The Dangerous Vision of Water in Hekhalot Mysticism—A Source-Critical and Tradition-Historical Inquiry (Leiden: Brill, ) . But the association of Eden, the future paradise of the righteous, and the heavenly temple is found as early as Jub. (.–; .; Morray-Jones, ‘Paradise, Part ’, –).
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An earlier account of Akiva’s ascent is told in Hekhalot Zutarti (HZ ). Here the ‘ministering angels’ who want to do Akiva harm are called ‘angels of destruction/violence’ ()מלאכי חבלה. In a recent study on Paul’s ascent, Paula Gooder agrees with the present author that Paul met a real angel in heaven, whom Paul calls a ‘thorn’. In this context, she points out Paul’s possible assimilation to the prophet Ezekiel, who, after receiving a vision of the Lord, was told not to fear ‘briers and thorns’ ( ;וסלוניםEzek .). Regrettably, she says nothing about Moses, the greatest of prophets with whom Paul directly compared himself in Corinthians. It is my contention that Moses provides the best background for understanding what Paul means by the thorn/angel of Satan.
Part III: The Story of Moses’ Ascent to Heaven
The story of Moses’ ascent to heaven at Sinai seems to have been well known in first-century Judaism. It is told, for instance, by Ezekiel the Tragedian (Exagoge, lines –), and Philo (Mos. .; QE .). These Alexandrian traditions could have come to Paul’s (and the Corinthians’) attention through Apollos, the learned Alexandrian preacher (Acts .). Besides these Alexandrian traditions, Moses’ heavenly ascent is also presumed in a Palestinian source, Ps.-Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum (L.A.B., traditionally dated to the first century C.E.). This is indicated by the fact that when Moses descends from Sinai, ‘he went down to the place where the sun and the moon are (descendit in locum ubi lumen solis et lune est); and the light of his face surpassed the splendor of the sun and moon’ (.). The light on Moses’ face exceeded the For HZ as the earliest version of the pardes story, see Morray-Jones, ‘Paradise, Part ’, –. Synopse §, Münich . For ‘angels of destruction’, note QS .; En. .; .; .; .; Philo Abr. , ; t. ‘Abod. Zar. .–; cf. b. Šabb b. James Davila has argued for the presence of hostile angels in the ‘Hymn of the Garden’ in the Hodayot hymns of Qumran (QHa col. .–), where the sword of the cherub in Paradise (Gen :) becomes a bevy of ‘holy spirits and blazing fire that turns from side to side’ (.; ‘The Hodayot Hymnist and the Four Who Entered Paradise’, RevQ [] –, esp. –). For later Christian material on adversarial angels, see, e.g., Ps. Clem. Rec. . = Hom. .; Eus. E.H. ..; Barn. .. Note also the Coptic Apocalypse of Paul (NHL V/) which pictures Paul encountering punishing angels at the fourth and fifth gates of heaven. Gooder, Third Heaven, –. Insightfully, Gooder also points out that the King of Tyre, who lives in the luxury of God’s paradise (παραδείσου, עדן גן־אלֹהים, Ezek .) was also called a ‘piercing thorn’ (v. , סלון, LXX σκόλοψ; Gooder, Third Heaven, ). In HZ, Moses is immediately invoked as the prototypical mystic who learns the name of God which secures full remembrance of the Torah (Synopse §§, ; cf. Schäfer, The Hidden and Manifest God: Some Major Themes in Early Jewish Mysticism [Albany: State University of New York, ] ).
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
celestial bodies because Moses had been bathed in the glory of the heavenly courts, ‘whose “invisible light” was higher than the visible luminaries of this world’. Paul, who was putatively educated in Palestine (Acts .), could well have learned such a tradition there. Although Moses’ ascent was known to first-century Jewish authors, the tradition was more fully developed in rabbinic aggadot. Of chief importance is the story we find in the Babylonian Talmud (b. Šabb. b-a): R. Joshua b. Levi also said: When Moses ascended on high ()למרם, the ministering angels spoke before the Holy One, blessed be He, ‘Sovereign of the Universe! What business has one born of woman ( )ילוד אשהamongst us?’ ‘He has come to receive the Torah’, answered He to them. Said they to Him: ‘That secret treasure, which has been hidden by You for nine hundred and seventy-four generations before the world was created, You desire to give to flesh and blood ( !)לבשר ודםWhat is man, that You are mindful of him, And the son of man, that You visit him? O Lord our God, How excellent is Your name in all the earth! Who has set Your glory [the Torah] upon the Heavens!’ ‘Return them an answer’, bade the Holy One, blessed be He, to Moses. ‘Sovereign of the Universe’ replied he, ‘I fear lest they consume me with the [fiery] breath of their mouths’. ‘Hold on to the Throne of Glory’, said He to him, ‘and return them an answer’, as it is said, He makes him to hold on to the face of His throne, And spreads His cloud over him, whereon R. Nahman observed: This teaches that the Almighty spread the luster of His Shechinah and cast it as a protection over him (trans. H. Freedman, modified).
The story goes on to tell how Moses, using great boldness (cf. παρρησία in Cor .), argued why the Torah ought to be given to human beings rather than to angels. The angels then befriend Moses, allowing him to take the Torah as booty. As signs of reconciliation and submission, they give him additional gifts (a midrash on Ps . [Heb ], ‘You ascended on high… You took gifts’). In the Talmud, this story is fifth in a series of eight homiletic narratives attributed to the famous aggadist Joshua ben Levi (b. Šabb. b-a). The story is left Mark Stephen Kinzer, ‘ “All Things under His Feet”: Psalm in the New Testament and in Other Jewish Literature of Late Antiquity’ (PhD diss., University of Michigan, ) . Interestingly, Moses, before his death, is taken on a cosmic journey in which he sees ‘the paths of paradise’ (L.A.B. .; cf. Cor .). Peter Schäfer is inclined to treat the parallel account of this story in Midrash ha-Gadol as more original since it is anonymous (Rivalität zwischen Engeln und Menschen. Untersuchungen zur rabbinischen Engelvorstellung [Berlin: de Gruyter, ] ). Each homiletic narrative uses bits of scripture to generate the storyline and fill in dialogue. The stories are exegetically and thematically linked. The third, fourth, and fifth story interpret bits from Ps . The fifth, sixth, and seventh story underscore Moses’ humility before God. The fifth, sixth, and eighth story depict hostile angels or the figure of Satan.
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in Hebrew, which suggests that the redactors of the Bavli took it complete from an Amoraic source. The story in the Talmud can be broken down into six discrete units, each centered around a particular scriptural text. The first unit focuses on Ps . [Heb ], where God’s glory (i.e., the Torah) is set in the heavenly world. The angels use this text to keep the Torah for themselves. The second unit cites Job ., explaining it to mean that the glory cloud enveloped Moses when he seized God’s throne. In the third unit, Moses lists commands from the Decalogue (Exod .–), proving to the angels that the Torah was meant for human beings. The angels concede Moses’ point in unit four, using the words of Ps . [Heb ]. The fifth unit spotlights Ps . [Heb ], interpreting Torah as the ‘spoils’ Moses received on high. In the sixth and final unit, Moses receives other gifts from the angels, including the Angel of Death, who reveals how to stop a plague (Num .– [Heb .–]). The connection of Moses’ ascent on Sinai with Psalm (in unit five) is important since it helps us to date the story. During the ancient festival of Shavuot, David Halperin argues, Jews were already reading the Sinai pericope (Exod ), and the Chariot vision (Ezek ) along with Psalm (which mentions Sinai and chariots, v. [Heb ]). Signs of reading these passages together are already found in the LXX translation of Ezek .. Halperin thus traces the ‘Sinaitic’ reading of Psalm to a pre-Christian Alexandrian Jewish community. The words of Ps :, ‘You ascended on high’, were taken to refer to Moses’ heavenly ascent at least as early as the first century C.E. This is indicated by Eph .–, which quotes Ps :, but replaces the ascent of Moses with that of Christ. It is not unrealistic to suppose, then, that the story of Moses’ heavenly ascent at Sinai was known to Paul in the first century. Evidence of Moses encountering angels in heaven is also attested in literature prior to or contemporaneous with Paul. In Ezekiel’s Exagoge, for instance, Moses dreams that he is crowned and enthroned on Sinai. Viewing the world below, he sees ‘a host of stars’ (τι πλῆθος ἀστέρων) fall prostrate at his feet ‘like a squadron of soldiers’ (ὡς παρεμβολὴ βροτῶν, lines –). The ‘stars’ which prostrate themselves before Moses are a common poetic designation for angels (Job . The Amoraic period is usually thought to run from ca. – C.E. David Halperin, ‘Merkabah Midrash in the Septuagint’, JBL () –, esp. . Halperin, ‘Merkabah’, , –. For the connection of Ps .– with Shavuot and the Sinai pericope at Qumran, see C. R. A. Morray-Jones, ‘The Temple Within’, Paradise Now: Essays on Early Jewish and Christian Mysticism (ed. April D. DeConick; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, ) –. See W. Hall Harris, The Descent of Christ: Ephesians :– and Traditional Hebrew Imagery (Leiden: Brill, ) –. The argument is based partly on the (late) Targum on the Psalms which paraphrases Ps .: ‘You ascended to the firmament, O prophet Moses (’)נבייא סליקתא לרקיע משה.
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[LXX]; En. .–). These angels are in battle formation as they are depicted in Judg .. Moses’ ability to count them assimilates him to God (Ps .; cf. Isa .), and signifies his rulership over them. Indeed Moses, it is not a stretch to say, is here depicted as the ‘Lord of (angelic) hosts’. A like tradition of Moses’ encounter with, and dominance over angels is found in L.A.B. . Here Deborah sings a victory hymn in which she puts the defeat of Sisera at the hands of the ‘stars’ (again, Judg .) in the context of Moses’ ascent at Sinai. As Moses lay dying, God says to him: ‘Let the heaven in which you entered (celum in quo ingressus es) and the earth on which you walk until now be a witness between me and you and my people. For at that time the sun, and the moon and the stars were servants to you’ (ministri enim erant vobis sol et luna et astra, .). The ‘stars’ in this passage are very likely thought to be angels (cf. .; .–), as is indicated by the parallel in .: God ‘led you [Moses and the Israelites] into the height of the clouds and set the angels beneath your feet and established for you the Law’. As Mark Stephen Kinzer notes, ‘[t]he subjugation of the angels and of the luminaries to Israel is thus equated, and they are both tied to the ascent to heaven’. The angels beneath Moses’ feet seems to have derived from a midrashic reading of Psalm . Verse [Heb ] of this psalm puts ‘all things’ under the feet of ‘man’ (ֱאנוֹׁש, v. ). The ‘all things’ would include those mentioned in Ps . [Heb ]: ‘moon and stars’. If the ‘stars’ are read as angels, and the ‘man’ as Moses, then the angels fall before Moses’ feet. This image is essentially what we find in the Exagoge and L.A.B., suggesting that this ‘Mosaic’ reading of Psalm predated Paul.
Even if Moses’ dream vision in the Exagoge is a mere parable of mundane realities (as suggested by Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the God of Israel: God Crucified and Other Studies on the New Testament’s Christology of Divine Identity [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ], –), the contents of the dream still give the historian access to ancient traditions of Moses ruling angels at Sinai. The thickness of biblical and extrabiblical allusion in Moses’ dream indicates that Ezekiel was handling traditional material (Howard Jacobson, The Exagoge of Ezekiel [Cambridge: Cambridge University, ] –). D. J. Harrington mistranslates the Latin perfect (ingressus es) as if it were future: ‘the heaven that you are to enter’ (OTP .). Here, subjected angels sandwiched between an ascent and the giving of the Law suggest a context at Sinai. For possible angelic opposition at Sinai, note L.A.B. .: ‘I [God] brought them [the Israelites] to the foot of Mount Sinai, and I bowed the heaven and came down… and impeded the course of the stars…and interrupted the storm of the heavenly hosts so that they would not ruin my covenant’ (suspendi tempestatem militiarum, ut non corrumperem testamentum meum, trans., Howard Jacobson). Kinzer, ‘ “All Things Under His Feet”’, . The language here is deliberately politically incorrect to highlight the fact that the ‘man’ could be read as a singular, particular man. See below. For Moses as the subject of Ps , see Kinzer, ‘ “All Things Under His Feet”’, –.
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If Ps : is the exegetical origin of Moses’ ascent, and Psalm the exegetical origin of his dominance over angels, the text most generative for Cor .– is Job . (unit two in the Bavli account above). The core of R. Joshua’s midrash on Job . is Moses’ divine protection in heaven. The first part of the verse speaks of one grasping the face of a throne (כסה, NRSV ‘full moon’). The next word, ( פרשזBDB pil’el of פרש, NRSV ‘spreads’), is treated as a notarikon: פרש (he spreads); ( רחםbeing merciful), ( שדיthe Almighty); ( זיו עננוhis glory cloud), or ‘The Almighty, being merciful, spreads his glory cloud’. The tradition presumes that Moses ascended to heaven, encountered angelic hostility (the link with the Ps . unit), and was subsequently protected by grasping God’s throne. In what follows I will argue that this homiletical expansion of Job . presents a story of Moses’ ascent which is structurally parallel to Paul’s experience in Cor .–. This structure has two basic elements () the presence of angelic hostility in heaven, and () God’s overshadowing protection. Comparison of the Pauline and Mosaic Ascent Reports . In the Job . midrash, hostile angels attack Moses in his ascent. Paul’s encounter with an ‘angel of Satan’ in Cor ., I propose, can be interpreted along the same lines. The immediate difficulty for this view is a seeming difference in type of angels. In b. Šabb. b-a, Moses’ opponents are the ‘ministering angels’ ()מלאכי השרת. For Paul, however, it is a singular ἄγγελος Σατανᾶ, who is either one of Satan’s angels (genitive of possession) or Satan himself (appositive genitive). Are these two sorts of angels really comparable? The differences between the angels, at first glance, are weighty. It seems as if the ministering angels in the aggada are celestial priests solely concerned about the purity of the heavenly sanctuary. They refer to Moses as the ‘one born of woman’ made up of ‘flesh and blood’. Paul’s Satan, on the other hand, is a tempter, accuser, and prosecutor of moral offenses. Furthermore, the ministering angels must be seen as on the side of God, whereas Satan, as is commonly supposed, is incorrigibly pitted against God. Nevertheless, the nature of angelic opposition in rabbinic aggadot indicates that Paul’s ‘angel of Satan’ is indeed like unto the ‘ministering angels’ of rabbinic lore. As already mentioned above, the ministering angels who attack Akiva in the Hekhalot are called ‘angels of destruction/violence’ ()מלאכי חבלה. This is also their designation in three other parallel accounts of Moses’ ascent at Sinai, each of which contains the Job . midrash (Exod. Rab. ., Tanh. Buber Ki Tiśśa ˙ When I discuss structural parallels, I mean to illuminate one text by another, not to suggest any genetic relationship(s). Perhaps the former should be preferred since ‘the angel Satan’ would require the definite article (ο͑ ἄγγελος Σατανᾶ; Plummer, Commentary, ). The translation ‘an adversarial angel’ is also possible. H. A. Kelly, Satan: A Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ).
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
§, and Pesiq. Rab. ). That the Bavli account uses ‘ministering angels’ is probably redactional. As Christopher Morray-Jones points out, the designation is ‘deliberately “softer” and reflects a concern to guard against the possibility of association between the demonic principle and God’. In the writings of the Dead Sea sectarians, the neat distinction is absent. The ‘angels of destruction’ ( )מאלכי חבלare instruments of God’s wrath (CD .), even though they are explicitly aligned with ‘Belial’ (QM .–; cf. .). In later rabbinic literature, these angels act as accusers ( )קטיגוריןbefore God, pointing out the moral offenses of Israel (Midrash Tehillim .). Objectively, such angels represent the punishing righteousness of God ()מדת הדין. Subjectively, these angels are jealous of Israel, to the point of being malicious. Their capacity to be cruel and destructive is well shown by how they treat those unworthy to see ‘the king in his beauty’. In Hekhalot Rabbati (HR; Synopse §§–; cf. HZ §§–), the angelic guardians of the sixth palace hurl upon ascenders ‘a thousand thousand waves of water when there is not so much as a single drop there’. Their trick of illusion serves as an ordeal. If the ascender sees the water, the angels know that he is impure. Consequently, ‘they run after him to stone him and say to him, “Worthless one! Perhaps you are one of the calf-kissers’ seed and unworthy to see the king and his throne!”’ Like the angels of destruction, Paul’s Satan is a tempter ( Thess .; Cor .) who uses deception to achieve his ends ( Cor ., ; cf. Gal .). He is constantly seeking an opportunity to take advantage of God’s elect to lead them into sin ( Cor .; Cor .). When people sin, they fall into his power so that he can destroy their flesh ( Cor .). In his capacity as destroyer, Satan executes the strict justice of God. The association of Satan with destruction in Cor . helps interpret Paul’s reference to ‘the destroyer’ (ὁ ὀλοθρευτής) in Cor .. Here ‘the destroyer’ (cf. המשחיתin Exod . [LXX τὸν ὀλεθρεύοντα]; Chron ., ) destroys the grumbling Israelites in the desert. The reference is probably to the plague which broke out against the people in Num . or .– (cf. Wis .– ). Martin Dibelius thought that the definite article (ὁ ὀλοθρευτής) pointed to one particular destroyer—the one who destroys in Cor .—namely Morray-Jones, ‘Paradise, Part ’, . Notably, in Pesiq. Rab. , the ‘angels of destruction’ ( )מלאכי חבלהare identified with the ‘ministering angels’ ()מלאכי השרת. See §§. and . in Karl-Erich Grözinger, Ich bin der Herr, dein Gott! Eine rabbinische Homilie zum Ersten Gebot (PesR ) (Bern: Peter Lang, ) . Schäfer, Rivalität, –. Trans. Morray-Jones, Transparent Illusion, . This is not to say that all angels are unfriendly in the Hekhalot literature. The redactors of these texts have finely interwoven traditions of angelic opposition with the motifs of angelic guidance and revelation (Schäfer, ‘Engel und Menschen in der Hekhalot-Literatur’, HekhalotStudien [Tübingen: Mohr (Siebeck), ] –.
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Satan. J. Schneider pointed out that in Rabbinic literature, the משחיתwas one of the angels of destruction ()מלאכי חבלה. Schneider identified these angels with the ‘angels of Satan’. The destruction of a person’s flesh by Satan (ὄλεθρον τῆς σαρκός, Cor .) is reminiscent of an angel of Satan attacking Paul’s flesh as a thorn (σκόλοψ τῇ σαρκί, Cor .). In both passages, the flesh seems to refer to the part of human nature associated with sin and uncleanness. Flesh is offensive to the angels because of its association with impurity. Recall the outcry in the Ascension of Isaiah, ‘How far is he who dwells among flesh to go up?!’ (.). The same complaint is lodged against Moses when he is called ‘one born of woman’ ( ;ילוד אשהbirth and women both thought of as impure), as well as ‘flesh and blood’ ( )בשר ודםin the Bavli. Here, בשרseems to be the conceptual equivalent of Paul’s σάρξ in Cor .. Paul’s thrice repeated petition that the angel depart may indicate that the angel attacked him three times. If so, this angel of Satan would appear similar to the angel who opposed Balaam three times as ‘a satan’ (לשטן, Num .– ). If Paul is in any way echoing this text, it seems likely that he would view his ‘angel of Satan’ as God’s angel as well (note again that God appears to send the angel, v. ). The angel is God’s minister, no less spiteful and destructive than the ‘ministering angels’ who stand before God in the midrashim. . The second structural similarity between the Pauline and Mosaic ascent reports is the presence of God’s overshadowing protection. In b. Šabb. b-a, when God bids Moses to answer the opposing angels, Moses cries out that they will destroy him. Although not stated in the form of a request, Moses’ plaintive cry functions as a plea that God deliver him from the violence of the angels. Paul’s petition that the angel might depart from him has essentially the same function. God’s response to Moses’ plea throws considerable light on how Paul wishes God to respond to him. In the Talmud, God tells Moses to grasp the throne of Martin Dibelius, Die Geisterwelt im Glauben des Paulus (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –. TDNT, ‘ὄλεθρος’, .. Pesiq. Rab. §.; En. .. It appears that Paul’s flesh must be stripped away in order for him to have access to Paradise, which is probably the location of God’s throne room (cf. Ascension of Isaiah .–; En. ). In the Coptic Apocalypse of Paul, Paul reaches the tenth heaven as pure spirit (.). Cf. C. R. A. Morray-Jones, ‘Transformational Mysticism in the Apocalyptic-Merkabah Tradition’, Journal of Jewish Studies . () –, esp. –. It is worth pointing out that in the Bavli, the story which follows the account of angels threatening Moses depicts Satan as searching for the Torah that Moses took from heaven. After confronting God, the Deep, Destruction, and Death (following Job ., , ), Satan confronts Moses with the accusation. ‘Where is the Torah which the Holy One, blessed be He, gave to you?’ Moses claims that he does not have it, a lie which he (humbly) justifies by reasoning that such a great treasure was not given to him alone.
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
Glory. This command is explained in light of Job .. ‘He makes him to hold on to the face of his throne, and spreads his cloud over him’. ‘R. Nahman’ explains that the cloud is the cloud of glory ()זיו, or God’s ‘Shekinah’ cast as a protection over Moses. Above I have translated Paul’s word ἐπισκηνόω (.) as ‘tabernacle over’. This term does not appear in the LXX, Philo, or Josephus. Its only other use is in Polybius (Histories ..) when he speaks of enemy troops ‘quartered’ in the houses of a conquered city. Paul’s usage, however, is probably based on the combination of the preposition ἐπί and the noun σκηνή in the LXX. Numbers ., for instance, talks of the pillar of cloud (representing God’s presence) as being drawn ‘over the tabernacle’ (ἐπὶ τῆς σκηνῆς) in the wilderness. If Paul combined the word σκηνή with the ἐπι- prefix based on LXX usage, his verb probably means something roughly equivalent to κατασκηνόω, which in the LXX and Josephus is used of the glory cloud overshadowing the Tent of Meeting (Num .; Ant. .). Thus Paul desired Christ’s power to ‘tabernacle over’ him like God’s Glory over the Tent of Meeting (cf. Rev .). Just as Moses was enveloped in God’s glory cloud, so Paul wished to be overshadowed by divine power. But can ‘the power of Christ’ (ἡ δύναμις τοῦ Χριστοῦ, v. b) truly be compared with the glory cloud of the Job . midrash? The terms ‘power’ (δύναμις) and ‘glory’ (δόξα) could both refer to God’s presence in ancient Jewish writings. In Ps . (LXX), δύναμις and δόξα refer to God’s presence in the temple. In the book of Wisdom, Sophia is said to be the ‘breath of God’s δύναμις and a pure efflux of the Almighty’s δόξα’ (.). Δόξα in Paul can have the sense of God’s presence ( Cor .a; Rom .), which can also be the sense of δύναμις. In Cor ., for instance, Paul says that his spiritual presence and the power (δύναμις) of Jesus Christ are present at the judgment of a sexual offender. ‘Power’ here is a synonym for Christ’s glorious attendance in judgment. Likewise, in Mark ., the Son of Man reveals himself upon the clouds ‘with great δύναμις and δόξα’. The author of Matthew, who evidently understands δύναμις and δόξα as roughly equivalent terms, can change the phrase to ‘with δύναμις and great δόξα’ (.; so also Luke .). In Rev ., the temple of God is filled with smoke ‘from the δόξα of God and from his δύναμις’. Both terms describe God’s glorious presence. Paul could thus use δύναμις and δόξα as roughly equivalent terms. He probably used δύναμις instead of δόξα in Cor . to contrast with his ἀσθένεια, mentioned twice in that verse. I conclude that Christ’s overshadowing δύναμις in Cor . is conceptually akin to We know that Paul elsewhere combined two LXX terms into one: ἀρσενοκοίτης ( Cor .) from ἄρσην and κοίτη in Lev .. Cf. Thrall, Commentary, . n. . See further Helge K. Nielsen, ‘Paulus’ Verwendung des Begriffes Dynamis. Eine Replik zur Kreuzestheologie’, Die Paulinische Literatur und Theologie (ed. Sigfred Pedersen; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –, esp. –.
M. DAVID LITWA
the glory of God’s presence (= the Shekinah) protecting Moses from the angels in the midrash on Job .. These basic similarities shared by the Pauline and Mosaic ascent reports should not be taken to mean that Paul knew the story later told in the Talmud. The Talmudic narrative, essentially constructed out of midrashic biblical exegesis, merely indicates the basic structure of Mosaic ascent traditions with which Paul may have been familiar. Paul need not have known about every detail in the Talmudic story to have shaped his ascent report to conform to the basic structure of an earlier Mosaic ascent tradition. The structural similarities I have pointed out between Moses’ and Paul’s ascent reports, in fact, make all the more interesting the differences between them. This is the subject of Part IV.
IV. Paul’s Ascent as Mosaic Parody?
The most striking difference between the ascents of Paul and Moses is the outcome of the angelic attack. Whereas Moses receives divine deliverance from angelic power, Paul is left to be beaten. Indeed, the fact that Paul was struggling and seemingly resourceless on high appears to be the emphasis of Cor .–. One is thus led to inquire: If Paul’s ascent report has a Mosaic form, what is the rhetorical function of Paul’s heavenly helplessness? What I wish to propose is that Paul not only knew a tradition of Moses’ heavenly encounter with angels, but that he subtly parodied it in his own ascent report in Cor .–. The idea of parody has become important in recent research on Paul’s Narrenrede ( Cor .–.). Lawrence Welborn, developing an insight from Hans Windisch, argues that Paul plays the part of a mime in Cor .–.. The specific mimic role Paul played in Cor .– was that of the ‘learned imposter’. A special manifestation of the learned imposter is the ‘quack holy man’ who boasts of his supernatural healings. The failed healing in vv. –, Welborn argues, is a parody of this boast. Employing Welborn’s analysis (though leaving aside his interpretation of the thorn), I wish to suggest an even more specific object of parody in Cor .–—someone closer to Paul’s heart than the quack holy man—namely Moses. For ἐπισκηνόω as an allusion to the Shekinah, see Thrall, Commentary, .–. For the Shekinah resting on Moses due to his meekness, see b. Ned a. The first to use the term ‘parody’ with reference to Cor .– was Hans Dieter Betz (‘Eine Christus-Aretalogie bei Paulus [ Kor .–]’, ZTK [] –; cf. Der Apostel Paulus und die sokratische Tradition. Eine exegetische Untersuchung zu seiner ‘Apologie’ Kor – [Tübingen: Mohr (Siebeck), ] –). Betz asserted that Paul was parodying a healing oracle. His interpretation assumes that the ‘thorn’ refers to a physical malady, a judgment with which I cannot concur. Welborn, ‘Runaway Paul’, . Welborn, ‘Runaway Paul’, –.
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
Above I argued that the tradition of Moses’ ascent to heaven and encounter with angels dates to Paul’s time. It is more difficult to determine, however, whether Paul knew a tradition of Moses meeting angelic hostility in heaven. Indeed, Gal . (‘[I]t [the Torah] was ordained through angels by a mediator’, cf. Acts . and Heb .) indicates that the angels, far from opposing Moses on Sinai, nicely cooperated with him! Nonetheless, Paul did not need to know a tradition of angels opposing Moses in heaven to create a Mosaic parody. He only required familiarity with a tradition of Moses’ dominance over the angels in his Sinaitic/heavenly ascent. Early evidence attests to the fact that Moses did in fact undergo a heavenly ascent at Sinai in which angels submitted to him. We have already seen evidence of this in Ezekiel’s Exagoge and L.A.B. Further, Mosaic dominance is clearly a theme in b. Šabb. b-a, where Moses immediately receives the overshadowing protection of God’s Shekinah. Safely grasping God’s throne, he is filled with boldness to respond to his angelic opponents. The angels are utterly conquered by the force of Moses’ oratory. They quickly become obliging to Moses and give him gifts. More colorful narratives of Moses’ dominance over the angels in the context of the Sinai ascent are found in later rabbinic collections. In Pesiqta Rabbati, for instance, Moses meets the angel Qemuel, who is set over the angels of destruction ()מלאכי חבלה. When Qemuel threatens Moses and will not depart, Moses strikes him and drives him ‘out of the world’. Later angels in this midrash prove more formidable, but God promptly delivers Moses from them all. In Qoh. Rab. . §, Moses is confronted by five angels of destruction, who are personifications of God’s indignation: Rage, Corrupter, Destroyer, Wrath, and Anger (cf. Deut .). When Moses prays to God to remember the patriarchs, three of the angels fall away, but Wrath and Anger remain. Moses asks God to remove Wrath, while he manhandles Anger alone. An especially important tradition of Moses’ dominance over the angels is found in Exod. Rabb. .. The context of this midrash is Moses’ intercession for Israel on Sinai after the sin of the Golden Calf. Satan appears to accuse Israel, and Moses stands to oppose him. R. Judah the Prince (ca. C.E.) likened the situation to a king who was sitting in judgment on his son, while the accuser was indicting him. When the instructor of the prince saw that his charge was being condemned, he thrust the accuser outside the court and placed himself in his stead in order to plead on his behalf. Similarly, when Israel made the Golden Calf, Satan stood within [before God] accusing them, while Moses remained without. What then did Moses do? He arose and thrust Satan away and placed himself in his stead, as it says, ‘Had not Moses His chosen stood before Him in the breach, [to turn away the wrath of the destroyer (( ’])משחיתPs .). Trans. S. Lehrman in Midrash Rabbah Exodus (ed. H. Freedman and Maurice Simon; London: Soncino, ) .
M. DAVID LITWA
In this text, Moses is depicted as the protector and defender of Israel, who defeats Satan by his own power. In this story, far from fearing angelic attack, Moses pushes Satan away and secures the reception of the Torah for Israel. Moses’ ability to beat off his angelic enemies results in some astounding boasts in the late compilation Deuteronomy Rabbah. The boasts occur in the account of Moses’ death. The angel Sammael is sent to take the soul of Moses, but proves powerless to do so. Before dismissing Sammael, Moses boasts about his ascent to receive the Torah. ‘I ascended and trod a path in the heavens. I engaged in battle with the angels, I received the Law ( )תורהof fire, and sojourned under [God’s] Throne of fire, and took shelter under the pillar of fire, and spoke with God face to face; I vanquished the celestial Familia, and revealed unto humans their secrets; and received the Law from the right hand of the Holy One, blessed be he, and taught it to Israel’ (.). Moses speaks of his ascent to heaven like a veteran general speaks of his bygone victories. When Sammael returns again to Moses, Moses beats him with his staff which bears the name of God.
Paul’s Parody? In the face of Moses pummeling angels, Paul in Cor . turns out to be a striking figure of contrast. Instead of beating off the angels, Paul is helplessly punched and cuffed. Instead of showing off his oratorical prowess, Paul can only cry out for deliverance. Instead of being answered with divine protection, Paul is told that he can bear the suffering. Meanwhile, the Apostle is left hovering black and blue in heaven, making his whole ascent appear less tragic than comic. Far from being dominant over his angelic opponent, the angel starkly exposes Paul’s weakness. Yet in his debility Paul is confident that the power of Christ will envelop him. Consequently, Paul boasts—not of his victories—but of his weaknesses ( Cor .). ‘Exhibit A’ of his weakness is his bumbling encounter with the satanic angel. The contrast with Moses at just this point is so striking it seems hardly coincidental. While Moses easily glides to victory over his angelic opponent(s), Paul suffers a degrading defeat. The combination of structural similarity and material incongruity leads me to propose that Paul, in constructing his own ascent report, may have parodied a tradition of Mosaic ascent. Paul as ‘Mosaic fool’ would fit nicely as the crowning bit of sarcasm in Paul’s fool’s speech. In a letter vigorously attempting to reclaim lost religious authority, a parodic reference to Moses (perhaps Israel’s greatest authority) would have a powerful effect. If Moses’ ascent was the supreme demonstration of his power, so—paradoxically—was Paul’s. Moses received power directly from God, whereas Paul manifested God’s power through weakness. The text is late, but based on earlier traditions. See, e.g., ARN (version A), ARN (version B). For a pre- C.E. date of ARN, see Anthony J. Saldarini, The Fathers according to Rabbi Nathan (Leiden: Brill, ) –.
Paul’s Mosaic Ascent
This implicit contrast with Moses, if present, would indicate that Paul’s rhetorical strategy in Corinthians had changed. In ch. , Paul outstripped Moses by being bolder and more glorious. His ministry brought greater benefits (life, the Spirit, righteousness), and Paul felt no need to hide the glory of these gifts. In essence, Paul in Cor boasted of being ἱκανότερος (‘more capable’) than Moses. In Cor .–, by contrast, Paul outstripped Moses by being weaker and more inglorious than Moses, as demonstrated by his encounter with the angel. By changing his strategy, however, Paul did not need to discount Moses—only re-envision him. The raw material for such a re-visioning was not wanting. The Philonic picture of Moses at the burning bush, for instance, shows a Moses who is cautious (εὐλαβής) and shamefaced (αἰδοῖος) in part because he is ineloquent and tongue-tied (ἰσχνόϕωνος καί βραδύγλωσσος, Mos. .–). Interestingly, Philo makes a point here that sounds like the oracle received by Paul. The very image of the ‘most weakly’ (ἀσθενέστατον) bush which withstood the fire, Philo says, communicated a divine message, namely that ‘your weakness is your strength’ (τὸ ἀσθενὲς ὑμῶν δύναμις ἐστίν, Mos. .; cf. ‘my power [δύναμις] is perfected in weakness [ἐν ἀσθενείᾳ]’, Cor .). Although this message was meant for the suffering Israelites, it had obvious relevance for Moses who actually beheld the bush. It is perhaps not coincidental that a like statement appears in Paul when Paul himself appears like Moses ( Cor .). Yet Paul did not have to borrow the vision of a weak Moses from Philo. He could have understood from the Torah itself that God transformed Moses’ weakness and ineloquence into impressive strengths. (Nowhere is it said that Moses lacked words when appealing to Pharaoh.) At the end of his life, Moses experienced the great limitation of not being able to enter the Promised Land. After begging the Lord (ἐδεήθην κυρίου) to reverse his decision, God answers, Ἱκανούσθω σοι, ‘Let it be sufficient for you’ (Deut .–; cf. Ἀρκεῖ σοι, ‘[My grace] is sufficient for you’, Cor .). Moses, Israel’s greatest authority, also had to accept weakness and limitation. In one respect, then, Paul remained perfectly consistent in his presentation of Moses. Just as in Corinthians , Paul did not have to become something different than Moses to be superior to him. (Such a move would be counterproductive since Paul wanted to show the continuity of his authority with that of Moses.) Nevertheless, Paul’s rhetoric about his ministry being more glorious than Moses’ had to change. Paul had to become not ἱκανότερος than Moses, but ταπεινότερος. Paul had to become, so to speak, a Christ-like Moses, a Moses whose power was proved in weakness. Why Paul changed his rhetorical strategy about Moses can probably be inferred. Repulsed by the unmeasured boasting of his enemies ( Cor .–), Paul was content to be meek just as Moses was (Num .) in conformity to the ‘meekness and gentleness of Christ’ ( Cor .).
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000354
A Non-combat Myth in Revelation 12* AN D R A´ S D A´ VI D PATA KI Budapest-–Fasori Reforma´tus Egyha´zko¨zse´g, Va´rosligeti fasor 5-7. H-1071 Budapest, Hungary. email: [email protected].
The presentation of Jesus in his appearance in Rev . includes his birth and his ascension, but it does not mention his death, despite its important role elsewhere in the book. The present study, after surveying some typical explanations of this lack, suggests a twofold solution. First, the comparison of the christophanies in the Apocalypse reveals a characteristic sequence in their description into which the messianic appearance in ch. fits well. Second, the fact that John sharply separates the depiction of the satanic intent to kill the Messiah from Jesus’ death contributes to the Christology of Revelation. The protagonist of the book is unequivocally superior both to the devil and to all popular mythical figures who must face the forces of chaos. Keywords: Rev ., Christophany, Jesus’ death, ascension, literary structure, combat myth
. An Emphatic Silence in Revelation .
In the middle of the book of Revelation there is a curious appearance of Christ. In ., in the story of the conflict between the woman clothed in the sun, perceived usually as the symbol of God’s people, and the dragon, equated in . with Satan, the woman gives birth to a male child, who ‘will rule all the nations with a rod of iron’ and who ‘is caught up to God and to his throne’. In the history of interpretation this last point has been identified most often as the ascension of Christ. This connection seems correct in view of the reference to the Second Psalm, an important messianic psalm, in the previous clause, and of the frequent association of God’s throne with the glorious Christ in Revelation (e.g. .; .; .; .; .). This explanation admitted, Rev .
* I would like to express my warmest gratitude to Prof. Dr. Péter Balla, my doctoral supervisor at the Faculty of Theology of Károli Gáspár Reformed University, Budapest, who made his library available to me, and to Ms. Klára Pojják for her invaluable contribution in correcting my English. I am especially thankful to Prof. Dr. Péter Balla, Prof. John Barclay and Prof. Dr. Jens Herzer for their significant remarks on the draft.
A Non-combat Myth in Revelation
mentions the birth, the future heavenly rule and the ascension of Christ; but in contrast with the majority of early Christian creeds this brief summary is silent about his humiliation, his suffering and his death. Most interpreters of the Apocalypse detect this strange description and offer various explanations for this absence. One of the popular solutions comes from source-critical investigations. Adela Yarbro Collins, following R. H. Charles, identifies two non-Christian (Jewish) sources behind the story of Revelation and she relates the curious formulation to the careless editing of the original text: The absence of any reference to the life or deeds of the messiah, especially the lack of any notice of a redemptive death, and the complete projection of the messianic office of the child into the future, make it quite unlikely that the narrative concerning the woman, the dragon and the child was originally composed to suit a Christian context.
But Yarbro Collins’ cumulative argument in support of her hypothetical sources is not very convincing. She dismisses the view identifying the woman clothed with the sun with ‘the Church’ because the Christian community can hardly be described as the mother of Christ. But she overlooks the fact that early Christianity often identified itself with the OT people of God (e.g. Matt .–; Gal .–), and we find clear signs of the same association in Revelation (e.g. .–; .–). Thus, this interpretation does not fragment ‘the image of the woman into two’ since the author probably considered these two realities distinguished in Yarbro Collins’ exegesis as only one. Moreover, she finds the presence of the woman first in heaven (v. ), then, without any transition, on the earth Concerning the humiliation and the death of Jesus in the Christian confessions of the NT period, see Richard N. Longenecker, New Wine into Fresh Wineskins: Contextualizing the Early Christian Confessions (Peabody: Hendrickson, ) –; cf. –, for the prominence of the theme of Jesus’ redemptive death in the book of Revelation. I do not discuss here the arguments for a messianic (or human or astral) figure other than Jesus in Rev .. The Apocalypse is in agreement with the Gospels and other NT writings about the identification of the Messiah, and seems homogeneous in this respect. I also reject as speculative the hypotheses suggesting an allusion to ‘another characteristic’ of Jesus, e.g. Josephine Massyngberde Ford, Revelation: Introduction, Translation and Commentary (AB ; New York: Doubleday, ) –, who maintains here the possibility of ‘mystical experiences’ enjoyed by the ‘son-warrior’. For a series of fanciful explanations from church history, see Charles Brütsch, Clarté de l’Apocalypse (Genève: Labor et Fides, th ed. ) n. . Adela Yarbro Collins, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (Missoula, MT: Scholars, ) . Cf. R. H. Charles, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Revelation of St John, vol. (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) –; Roland Bergmeier, ‘Altes und Neues zur “Sonnenfrau am Himmel (Apk )”: Religionsgeschichtliche und quellenkritische Beobachtungen zu Apk .–’, ZNW () –; Ulrich B. Müller, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (GTB ; Gütersloh: Gütersloher, ) –.
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(v. ) contradictory. However, the unmarked switch from the heavenly scene to the earth is not exceptional in the Apocalypse (e.g. ., cf. the indication of the setting for chs. – in .) and if the woman refers to the people of God, in the context of the book being in part in heaven and at the same time on earth, there is not any extraordinary feature in this change. The main problem of Yarbro Collins’ view is its incongruity. In the second chapter of her thesis, she detects the basic characters and movements of a widespread ancient Mediterranean combat myth. She identifies nine typical traits of this story in Revelation . Then, in the third chapter, she divides the story of the woman and the dragon between two distinct sources and several redactional additions. However, only five of the previously listed basic features belong to her first source, two to the second and the other two to the redactor. Thus, she weakens her argument as she hypothesizes an entire mythic story edited from two different, unrelated but complementary sources of the same story by a Christian redactor. Since the story is built up of many OT allusions, supposedly used by a Christian author as well, and since it is woven into and developed in the plot of the following chapters, it seems more probable that John himself rewrote (or at least alluded to) the well-known combat myth to serve his own purposes. However, disregarding the number of hypothetical sources included in the narrative, the writer (or final editor) of the Apocalypse seems like a very thorough author. For example, he not only composed seven blessings in his work in accordance with his preference for symbolic numbers: he used the name of Jesus fourteen times, the titles ‘Christ’, ‘the one who sits on the throne’ or ‘the Alpha and the Omega’ seven times and the designation ‘Lamb’ of Jesus twenty-eight times! Is it Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, –. For a detailed list and criticism of the typical interpretations concerning the woman figure, see Heinz Giesen, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (RNT; Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, ) –. Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, –. Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) . Cf. the detailed analysis of Michael Koch, Drachenkampf und Sonnenfrau: Zur Funktion des Mythischen in der Johannesapokalypse am Beispiel von Apk (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –, about the ‘dynamische Struktur’ of Rev . Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, –. Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, –; cf. . Rev relates the deeds of the allies of the dragon. Ch. contrasts the woman and her seed in ch. with the great prostitute and her offspring. The dénouement of the story takes place only in Rev , with the final judgment of the devil. I find the criticism of Pierre Prigent, L’Apocalypse de Saint Jean (CNT ; Genève: Labor et Fides, rev. and augm. ed. ) , appropriate. ‘Faute de pouvoir produire le modèle juif supposé, cette explication ne doit être retenue qu’en désespoir de cause, en l’absence de toute autre interprétation plus simple et plus économique’. Gregory K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) –, citing many more instances from Richard Bauckham, The
A Non-combat Myth in Revelation
likely that the lack of mention of Jesus’ death, so important elsewhere in the book, escaped his attention? Not really. Then, if one argues for a non-Christian source for this chapter, one must also explain why John left the story as it is. Other scholars argue that the text implies the death of Christ. Here, I consider only the proposal of Gregory K. Beale: The deliverance described in v is not absolute protection from death but resurrection from the dead… Allusion to resurrection from the dead may be implicit in the word ἁρπάζω (‘catch up’), which is often used of taking something away forcefully. The idea may be that the devil momentarily devoured the Christ-child by putting him to death, only to have victory taken away at the resurrection (: shows that the context has Jesus’ death in mind).
It is right that the larger context mentions the blood of the Lamb; however, this observation does not answer our question, only changes it: why does the author delay this allusion until v. ? And though the use of ἁρπάζω is indeed to be explained, nevertheless, as in the closer context nothing else seems to refer to Jesus’ death and to the momentary devouring of the child by the devil, this interpretation seems to lack sufficient basis. Perhaps the most convincing suggestion is that of André Feuillet. He does not argue for the implication of Jesus’ death and resurrection in the ‘catching up’ of the child; rather, he connects it to his ‘birth’ and chiefly to the pains leading to it, alluding to a Johannine analogy, the imagery of giving birth in John .– . Some critics attack this sort of solution on the basis that the birth in Rev . would establish Christ’s divine sonship in this case, similarly to the Second Psalm cited here by the author (cf. Ps .); however, he is born here rather as the human child of the woman. In spite of the force of this argument in view
Climax of Prophecy: Studies in the Book of Revelation (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) –, and augmenting it with his own examples. I adhere to their conclusion: these numerical patterns, according to their great number and to the theological importance of the terms occurring , , , times in all probability are not coincidental. Beale, Revelation, . Cf. M. Eugene Boring, Revelation (Interpretation; Louisville: John Knox, ) . Without any explication, Ben Witherington III, Revelation (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) , also seems to include the death and the resurrection in the narrative. André Feuillet, ‘La Messie et sa mère d’après le chapitre XII de l’Apocalypse’, Revue Biblique () –; followed by e.g. Prigent, L’Apocalypse, –; and Pablo Richard, Apokalypse: Das Buch von Hoffnung und Widerstand (Luzern: Exodus, ) –. See the similar explanation of Akira Satake, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (KEK ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) : ‘Also versteht er [Johannes] unter der Geburt die himmlische Inthronisation Christi, die im Anschluss an dessen Tod stattfindet’. Jürgen Roloff, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (Zürcher Bibelkommentare NT ; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, ) –; cf. Witherington, Revelation, .
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of other instances mentioned by Feuillet, John .– looks like a proper parallel to the examined verse in that both link the picture of the birth pangs to the grief of the earthly messianic community. The only uncertainty with this view concerns the acquaintance of the first readers of Revelation with this passage of the fourth Gospel: whether it was known to them and whether it was so important in their sight that they associated it with the story of the woman giving birth to the male child. Several interpreters cite a remark of Joachim Jeremias about a characteristic Semitic literary device presenting a story with the allusion to both its beginning and its end and they suggest that the absence occurring in Revelation can be explicated on the basis of this phenomenon. Nevertheless, the presentation of Jesus’ life in the NT rather focuses on his crucifixion and his resurrection. Only one of the four canonical Gospels relates his ascension and two his birth, while all centre around his death. Richard Longenecker, probably correctly, ascribes the proposed summary function rather to the latter detail: ‘So prominent, in fact, was the theme of Christ’s redemptive death on a cross in the consciousness of the early Christians that at many places in the NT the terms “death” and “cross” appear in metonymous fashion for all the work of Christ in accomplishing human redemption’. G. K. Beale enumerates more verses of the Apocalypse (., –; .) offering ‘[t]he same kind of abbreviation…with a focus on Christ’s death and resurrection’. In the light of this significance given to the crucifixion among the first Christians it is likely that the lack of mention of Jesus’ death is not accidental. Moreover, as John himself also stresses the importance of Christ’s death elsewhere in his book, it seems reasonable to suggest that the silence about this significant fact is also emphatic. In general, every conclusion based on silence is very tentative, since various plausible reasons can be given for this absence. Nevertheless I think that closer consideration can detect a characteristic literary pattern in Revelation on the one hand, and an important relational aspect of
E.g. Acts . (wrongly referred to as . in Feuillet, ‘Messie’, ; cf. Prigent, L’Apocalypse, ) cites indeed the seventh verse from the same psalm as the confirmation of Jesus’ relationship with the heavenly Father in the context of his resurrection from the dead. E.g. Mathias Rissi, Was ist und was geschehen soll danach: Die Zeit- und Geschichtsauffassung der Offenbarung des Johannes (AThANT ; Zürich: Zwingli, ) n. ; Michael Wilcock, The Message of Revelation: I Saw Heaven Opened (BST; Leicester: Inter-Varsity, ) . Cf. David E. Aune, Revelation – (WBC B; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, ) . The solution of Simon J. Kistemaker, New Testament Commentary: Exposition of the Book of Revelation (Grand Rapids: Baker, ) , is similar: ‘John mentions two main redemptive facts: he stresses Jesus’ birth on earth that includes his ministry and his ascension into heaven that includes his majestic rule’ (Kistemaker’s italics). Longenecker, New Wine, . Beale, Revelation, .
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the action described in v. on the other: both can explicate the interesting formulation, the first from the viewpoint of literary structure, the second from that of Christological content.
. The Seven Glorious Appearances of Christ
A useful observation concerning the literary structure of the book can help us understand the silence about Jesus’ death in Rev .. In the whole book, there are seven personal appearances of the glorious Christ which are undisputed by the great majority of the scholars: ., ; .; .; .; .; and .. In the six cases other than . the description of Jesus or the connected hymns make a clear reference (or at least a more direct allusion) to his death or to his blood. Each of the seven instances occupies a significant position in the narrative structure of Revelation: they are parts of the introduction of new, important sections. In six cases, the presentation of Christ clearly occurs in two steps. First, we are informed of his honour and his sovereignty. Then, in the second step, his glory is related to the mention of his death or of his blood. Let us survey the six sections. Revelation .– is the overture of the whole book. First, .– introduces the work as ἀποκάλυψις. Here, John shows Jesus, the glorious Revealer who is able to mediate the divine will to God’s servants. In vv. –, we find the introduction of the book as a letter. The Christ of this section is no less majestic, he is the faithful witness and the ruler of the kings of the earth. However, the picture is completed: he is simultaneously the firstborn of the dead and he has freed us by his blood. The passage reaches its crescendo in v. , at Jesus’ appearance when every eye will see him, even those who pierced him. The second section is .–, the introduction of the seven letters to the churches of Asia Minor. Verses – present the Son of Man in his divine majesty, using the attributes of God according to the visions of Ezekiel – and of Daniel . Afterwards, John falls to his feet and the Lord encourages the seer by introducing himself as the living one who was dead, and who has control over the keys of death and of Hades (.–). Chapters and constitute the introduction to the breaking of the seven seals. The appearance of Christ is to be found in .–. In a first step, we hear the announcement of the victorious Lion of Judah, the Root of David who is able to open the scroll (v. ). Then, in vv. –, we witness the appearance and the due celebration of the Lamb who is like one put to death (v. ; cf. v. ), and who is praised for he was slain and he purchased (his people) by his blood from every language and every nation (v. ). Revelation .– introduces the series of the seven trumpets. First, we are present again at the worship of the Lamb by the great multitude clothed in white robes (.–). Subsequently, the conversation of the author with one of
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the elders identifies the assembly: these are the ones who washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb (.–). Revelation .–, the introduction of the last series of judgments is the only other appearance of the Lamb in the book, besides ., that does not contain any explicit reference to the death of Christ; but in vv. –, the formulation strongly implies it. In its first half, the vision shows us the Lamb with his entourage, the one hundred and forty-four thousand (.–a). The second half of the section presents these followers as the ones who had been purchased from the earth and who were purchased from the people (.–). This is a clear allusion to the hymn of the heavenly choir in . where they adore the Lamb who purchased his people by his blood. The characterization of these worshippers as the ones who ‘follow the Lamb wherever he goes’ and the imagery of ‘firstfruits’ reinforce the sacrificial tenor of the description, with reference to the Lamb. The merely implicit reference to Jesus Christ’s death in these verses is presumably in connection with the exclusiveness of the redeemed ones’ song (.). Only they know its glorious content: they—only they—can present it with their voices and with their holy lives. The last appearance, in .–, introduces the finale of the chef-d’oeuvre. Long hymns and the warning of a ‘fellow servant’ (an angel, in all probability) prepare us for the great event (.–). The Lamb is celebrated since his wedding has come; and we are informed that the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy (.–). Then, he appears in person. His description ends with his robe dipped in blood. The majority of interpreters recognize here an allusion to the divine Warrior of Isa .–, and therefore, to the realization of the final judgment of God’s enemies. But they exclude the possibility of the identification of this blood with that of Christ perhaps too quickly: they find it incompatible with the Isaianic reference. The remark of Beale and McDonough concerning the use The introductory function of the messianic appearance in .– is perhaps contrary to most scholars’ structural conception. The majority consider both Rev .–. and Rev .–. as coherent units. Although one must accept the coherence of the succession of seven bowls in the latter instance, the addition of Rev .– to this section seems rational. While chs. – present us with the leaders of the enemy, from . we are informed of the judgment coming upon their people. Aune, Revelation –, –, ; Roloff, Offenbarung, –; Mounce, Revelation, –; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, . Beale, Revelation, –. Cf. Eduard Lohse, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (NTD ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –: ‘Dieser Weg aber führt auch in das Kreuz hinein, durch Leiden und Sterben zur Herrlichkeit’. For the arguments against the identification of the blood in . with that of Jesus, see Beale, Revelation, –; David E. Aune, Revelation – (WBC C; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, ) ; and Prigent, L’Apocalypse, –. The contrary view to these, recognizing the blood of the Lord here is supported by, e.g., Mathias Rissi, Alpha und Omega: Eine Deutung der Johannesoffenbarung (Basel: Friedrich Reinhardt, ) –; Boring, Revelation, –;
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of the OT in Revelation is accurate: ‘even though John handles these OT figures with creative freedom, almost always these pictures broadly retain an essential OT association and convey principles of continuity between the OT and the NT’. However, it is important to notice that John often deepens, enriches or modifies the emphases of the same allusions by the context in his book, usually thus Christianizing them. With the juxtaposition of the Lion of Judah and the Lamb looking like one slaughtered, he presents the victorious Messiah, in accordance with the Christian interpretation, as the required sacrifice to God (.–). As he connects the grateful song of Moses celebrating the Exodus to the song of the Lamb, he reinforces and at the same time redefines the central salvation event of Israel’s history (.). When the description of the new Jerusalem relates the names of the twelve tribes of Israel to the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb, he recasts the OT reference to the people of God in an obvious Christian sense (., ). With regard to the robe of the rider in Rev ., the blood in the Apocalypse is never explicitly related to the blood of the enemies, although in . it refers in all probability to it. But we have one clear reference to the blood of Christ (.), and three more to that of the Lamb (.; .; .). The last of these declares that his blood is the means of victory. Moreover, the expression used for dipping in blood of the divine Warrior’s robe (βάπτω, the translation of Hebrew )טבלis one of the technical terms in the LXX version of the Pentateuch for sacrificial cleansing, often employing blood (e.g. the purification of the priests: Lev ., ; .; cf. the instructions concerning the Passover in Exod . as well). In Revelation, the sacrificial blood of cleansing is always that of the Lamb. So it seems likely that the first readers understood the word blood in . as the blood of victory (similar to the OT imagery of the divine Warrior): but this blood of victory is related to the death of Christ (in agreement with the Christological orientation of Revelation). This reference can be understood in the light of Longenecker’s appropriate comment about the book (in relation to Rev .): What is interesting, however, is that these two ideas of sacrificial victim and victorious leader are merged in the Johannine Apocalypse… It is, in symbolic language, the same message as appears throughout the rest of the NT: Jesus is the triumphant conqueror at the eschatological end because he was the Lamb who was sacrificed on the cross.
Robert W. Wall, Revelation (NIBC ; Peabody: Hendrickson, ) –; Giesen, Offenbarung, . G. K. Beale and Sean M. McDonough, ‘Revelation’, Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament (ed. G. K. Beale and D. A. Carson; Grand Rapids: Baker, ) –, here . Longenecker, New Wine, . See the similar conclusion in Bauckham, Climax of Prophecy, .
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There are at least three more appearances of heavenly beings often associated with Christ: the vision of the rider on the white horse in ., that of the ‘mighty angel’ in . and the figure ‘like a son of man’ in .. They all have several attributes used elsewhere in connection with the glorious Jesus or with God: the white horse (.; cf. .); the cloud (.; .; cf. .); the rainbow (.; cf. .); the face like the sun (.; cf. .); and the title ‘one like a son of man’ (.; cf. .). However, other attributes relate them to other personages in Revelation as well, e.g. the mention of the crown (.; στέφανος) is connected to the faithful (.); to the locusts (.); to the woman clothed with the sun (.); but never to Jesus in the book. Moreover, the golden crown (.) is assigned elsewhere to the twenty-four elders of the heavenly throne room (.; and cf. also .). Therefore, it seems impossible to decide the identity of these figures with certainty, but the context perhaps suggests that they are angelic beings representing the glorious Christ in the process of the judgment. The rider appears in a scene where the Lamb is present as well: he opens the first seal (.). The heavenly being in . is called ‘another mighty angel’: this would be a peculiar title for the protagonist of the book. The person ‘like a son of man’ acts in accordance The degree of scholarly support for the identification of these figures with Christ is very different. Probably the majority of commentators rejects the equation of Christ with the rider of ., and perhaps the majority admits it in relation to the ‘one like a son of man’ in .. The widespread adoption of the latter position is in all probability the result of the similarity of this designation with the name ‘the Son of Man’ used in the Gospels for Jesus. However, the expression is anarthrous here, in opposition to its articular use in the sayings of Jesus preserved in the Gospels. See Aune, Revelation –, –, and I. Howard Marshall, ‘Son of Man’, Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels (ed. Joel B. Green and Scot McKnight; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, ) –. The rider in . has ‘many diadems’ (διαδήματα πολλά): John uses the same word here as at . and at . concerning the dragon and the beast! Cf. Loren T. Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration and Christology: A Study in Early Judaism and in the Christology of the Apocalypse of John (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr, ) : ‘If several angelological texts in Revelation are reminiscent of motifs found in the opening epiphany, this does not occur at the expense of an emphasis that Christ is superior to God’s angels’. Jens Herzer, ‘Der apokalyptische Reiter und der König der Könige: Ein Beitrag zur Christologie der Johannesapokalypse’, NTS () –, argues for a possible Christological approach to the rider in Rev .. For other detailed treatments of the figure with different conclusions, see Michael Bachmann, ‘Noch ein Blick auf den apokalyptischen Reiter (von Apk .–)’, NTS () –; John C. Poirier, ‘The First Rider: A Response to Michael Bachmann’, NTS () –; Heinz Giesen, ‘Im Dienst der Weltherrschaft Gottes und des Lammes: Die vier apokalyptischen Reiter (Offb :–)’, Studien zur Johannesapokalypse (Stuttgarter Biblische Aufsatzbände ; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, ) –; and Jens-W. Taeger, ‘Hell oder dunkel? Zur neueren Debatte um die Auslegung des ersten apokalyptischen Reiters’, Johanneische Perspektiven: Aufsätze zur Johannesapokalypse und zum johanneischen Kreis – (FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) –. For arguments defending the messianic identification, see Beale, Revelation, –; and Robert H. Gundry, ‘Angelomorphic Christology in the Book of Revelation’, SBLSP ()
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with the order of an ‘other angel’—and his task is described in complete parallelism with a new ‘other angel’ (.–; cf. .–). But even if we accept the view that Christ in person is present in these figures, their function and their presentation strongly differ from the other appearances where Jesus is worshipped as the glorious Messiah: in these cases, he only announces, launches or completes the judgment of God. The male child’s birth in . rather fits into the sequence of Christ’s glorious appearances. This event marks the introduction of God’s enemies and their intrigues in the book. He is characterized with the words of the Second Psalm. According to this messianic psalm, very popular among the early Christians, he will rule the nations with a rod of iron. In addition he is taken to God and to his throne. But where is the second step, the mention of his death? The story continues: his mother must flee to the desert where she finds protection and rest prepared by God—and suddenly, the scene is changed, and we are right in the middle of the heavenly battle between Michael and his angels on the one hand, and the dragon on the other (.–). Only after the dragon’s defeat, in his definitive absence resounds the loud voice in heaven, celebrating God and his Christ and announcing the victory accomplished by our brothers and sisters over their accuser by means of the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony (.–)! Hence, the delay in mentioning Christ’s death fits well into the recognized literary pattern present in the book of Revelation. The appearance of the Son introduces a new section in the book; first, he is presented as the child participating in the authority of God; second, his power is related to his victorious blood. But the timing perhaps is not only the result of a rigid organization of the material. The influence of a Christological consideration could also contribute to the unusual description.
–, who recognizes Jesus in the angelic beings of Rev .–; .–; .–, ; .–; . as well. See Giesen, Offenbarung, –; Beale, Revelation, –; and Prigent, L’Apocalypse, – for the reasons in support of the equation with Christ. I agree with Beale that the parallelism in the description of this heavenly being with that of . is important. However, contrary to him, I think that this link rather weakens the messianic identification. Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration, –, –, and Matthias Reinhard Hoffmann, The Destroyer and the Lamb: The Relationship between Angelomorphic and Lamb Christology in the Book of Revelation (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –, suggest the presence of an ‘angelomorphic Christology’ in this passage. Moreover, the birth of the son of the woman, in front of the dragon, the ancient serpent, perhaps signals the eagerly expected fulfilment of the divine promise in Gen ..
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. The Non-combat Myth
I previously argued that the silence about the death of the Messiah in Rev . seems conscious and emphatic. How can it contribute to the theological message of the book? The prime importance of the plot of ch. does not lie in the characterization of the three personages in themselves but rather in the presentation of their relations. Verse b prepares us for the relation of the dragon and the child as it exists in the purposes and desires of the former. Verse relates the total failure of his intentions in this relationship. He is unable to come close to his future conqueror; he cannot even hurt the woman’s son. Every contact between them is broken. So, mentioning Christ’s death in this context would be misleading. The dragon has nothing to do with the crucifixion of Jesus. The emphatic absence of the latter underlines this theological message. In Revelation, the significance of the main events often exceeds the point when they actually took place. Likewise, the death of the Messiah also has a perpetual importance after its completion. In this respect, the representation of the principal temporal developments in the book resembles John’s characteristic treatment of space in chs. –: there, we read concrete letters to concrete churches addressing their concrete situations—but the seven churches of Asia Minor, in the context of the Apocalypse, represent the whole Christian church; thus, these messages simultaneously present the Lord to every Christian everywhere. Similarly, the crucifixion of Jesus at a particular point of history carries a universal meaning at every point of history. This event describes the wonderful character of Christ—even in his glory in the presence of God (.–). It creates the content of every relationship between the believers and their Lord. There is only one relation within which the death of Jesus is unintelligible: that of Christ and the dragon. Revelation . affirms that the crucifixion precedes this latter relationship: only the consequences of this sacrifice are important in that they define the perspective of the church about the dragon. The blood of the Lamb is the means of victory for his people in the war waged against the devil. The silence about Jesus’ death in Rev . constitutes the same reminder as the one declared explicitly in John .. There, preparing his disciples for his crucifixion, Jesus announces the coming of ‘the prince of this world’ (i.e. the devil);
See the similar conclusion of Mounce, Revelation, : ‘The significant point is that the evil designs of Satan were foiled by the successful completion of Christ’s messianic ministry, which culminated in his ascension and exaltation’. Cf. the comment of Beale, Revelation, : ‘One purpose for these omissions is to highlight the victory at Christ’s resurrection and ascension’. Moreover, the crucifixion of Jesus has cosmic significance even before the incarnation according to Rev ..
A Non-combat Myth in Revelation
but he immediately adds that the prince of the world has no hold on him. The devil is powerless against Christ. Two facts seem to reinforce our proposition. First, the use of the verb ἁρπάζω. If it refers to the ascension in itself, the usage of the more common ἀναλαμβάνω (Acts ., , ; Tim .) or ὑψόω (Acts .; .; cf. Phil . and perhaps John .) would have been more comprehensible, even if the realization of Christian hope, i.e. the resurrection and the catching up of the believers at the parousia of Christ in relation of which ἁρπάζω is applied in Thess ., is sometimes connected in the NT to the resurrected Lord’s being taken up and reigning in glory (John .–; .; Tim .; Heb .–). With the force and violence inherent in ἁρπάζω, and with the association of the cognate nouns ἁρπαγμός and ἁρπαγή with robbery, the use of this verb is most intelligible in the context if it points here to the powerful breaking of all contact between the child and the dragon. The dreadful enemy is definitively robbed of the possibility of devouring the Messiah. The irresistible force of the divine action is directed against his obvious intentions. The other observation is connected to the sequel of the story. In the context of the Apocalypse, the desire of the dragon aiming at personal contact with the Messiah will never be realized. He and his armies can launch attacks only on the saints (e.g. .). The only verse in Revelation that describes the Lamb as personally included in an actual battle is Rev . where the mention of the future war of the ten kings allied against him is immediately joined to the announcement of his victory over them. There are in fact two further notes showing him in connection with fighting: first, Rev . reports the Rider on the white horse as one who judges and makes war with justice; however, it is more a characterization of his pure divine personality than the record of a concrete battle. Secondly, Rev . is only a strong warning ironically against Jesus’ own church which is ready to accept the false prophets’ teachings. The possibility of this latter combat remains open for his people, and not against his enemies. In summary, we can assume that the Christ of the Apocalypse does not participate personally in the wars waged by Judith L. Kovacs, ‘ “Now Shall the Ruler of This World Be Driven Out”: Jesus’ Death as Cosmic Battle in John :–’, JBL () –, here , states that the following verse in John further strengthens the same point: ‘Verse , however, makes clear that Satan is not the most important actor in the drama. In the end, Jesus’ death comes about only because it is the will of the Father…which is willingly accepted by the Son… The ἄρχων is allowed to “come” so that Jesus’ love and obedience to the Father may be known’. Erich Tiedtke and Colin Brown, ‘Snatch, Take Away, Rapture: ἁρπάζω’, The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. , Pri–Z (ed. Colin Brown; Carlisle: Paternoster, ) –. Matt .; .; John .–; Acts .; . clearly use the same verb in the sense of the forceful termination of a relationship. This juxtaposition is strikingly similar to .–. In both passages we are informed about the intention of the enemies (. is in the future tense!) and of the failure of their purposes.
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the evil one. This fact does not indicate that he is outside the struggle of the ecclesia militans. He is over this struggle. In the light of the conceited ambitions of the dragon, reality is completely humiliating for the latter. He cannot face his conqueror even at the moments of his judgment. As a tiny lizard, he is seized and thrown down by angels of the Messiah twice in the Apocalypse (.–; .–). He seems terrible—but in reality, he is nothing in the presence of the Lamb. Now, it is useful to return to the widespread and probable hypothesis about the presence of some characteristic features of a well-known Mediterranean combat myth in ch. of Revelation. This story relates how a dragon-like figure threatened by the approaching birth of his future conqueror—usually a god like Apollo or Horus—attempts to destroy the pregnant mother or the newborn baby; and how he himself will be killed subsequently by the protagonist’s hand. The fundamental counter-argument to the identification of this myth in the Apocalypse is vigorously formulated by Leon Morris as follows: John’s imagery is to be understood from its use in Revelation, not from the imagery of the myths… We must not degrade him to the level of a copyist of ill-digested pagan myths. Moreover it is plain from his whole book that he abominated paganism. It is thus most unlikely that he would borrow significantly from that source, or that pagan religion will give us the key to his ideas.
Morris’ judgment concerning John’s opposition in respect of all sorts of paganism seems correct, yet the possibility that the author refers consciously to the myth familiar to his readers remains perhaps also tenable. The three In the context of the book of Revelation, πολεμέω and particularly πόλεμος mostly refer to the intentions and the activity of God’s enemies (e.g. .; .; ., ; .; .; .). Antoninus King Wai Siew, The War between the Two Beasts and the Two Witnesses: A Chiastic Reading of Revelation .–. (JSNTSup ; London: T&T Clark, ) , states: ‘The dragon, as powerful as he is depicted in Rev. –, is only an angel. He meets his match in his encounter with Michael, an angel’. This perspective of the book practically turns the pretentious question asked by the worshippers of the dragon’s agent, the beast, in ., into ridicule. For the various forms of the combat myth, see the presentation of Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, –; Peter Busch, Der gefallene Drache: Mythenexegese am Beispiel von Apokalypse (TANZ ; Tübingen: Francke, ) –; and Koch, Drachenkampf, –. Leon Morris, The Book of Revelation: An Introduction and Commentary (Tyndale; Leicester: Inter-Varsity, d ed. ) . The remark of Stefan Schreiber, ‘Die Sternenfrau und ihre Kinder (Offb ): Zur Wiederentdeckung eines Mythos’, NTS () –, is very useful. He urges consideration of both the author’s intentions and the probable reception of the first readers (). It is all the more important that John seems to know the addressees of the book very well, as the ‘letters’ in chs. – demonstrate his familiarity with the situation of the churches in Asia Minor.
A Non-combat Myth in Revelation
personages, the dragon, the woman and the son, awaken associations too direct to be incidental. But the obvious reorganization of the story and the use of OT imagery in the description suggest that the writer utilized the components of the narrative freely. This can mean that his purposes were basically polemical. The key to this affirmation is the recognized absence of every contact between the Messiah and the dragon in Rev . (and in the whole book). The battle of the woman’s son (or sometimes her husband) and of the dragon-like figure is at the centre of the story in every known version of the myth, and it leads to the catharsis, the climactic victory of the hero. In some versions, the latter dies as well, and it is only by the persistent efforts of his mother (or his wife) that he can return to life and triumph over his enemy. Thus, the dragon and the hero are equal partners in the battle which is the central element of the narrative as the broadly accepted ‘combat myth’ term suggests it. But the narrative in the Apocalypse, the reworking of the myth, denies the possibility of any warfare between Christ and the dragon. John greatly diminishes the importance of the combat when he alters the opponent of the evil one and asserts that the angelic army vanquishes him with ease. It is no more a combat myth. From the diabolic point of view, it is a pure ‘defeat myth’. Christologically, it is a ‘non-combat myth’. As John does not seem to paraphrase any concrete version of the widespread myth, but freely reworks it applying the symbolical language of the OT, the force of the polemics can be directed to the cult of the deity Apollo as well as to that of Isis and Horus. In both forms of the myth, the mother is constrained to rescue her child from the pursuit of his foe. In some versions, she must look for security before the birth; in other forms, she takes flight with the little boy. In Revelation Richard, Apokalypse, : ‘Möglicherweise kannte der Verfasser der Johannesapokalypse diese Mythen und verwendete sie mit neuer Sinngebung’. See the arguments leading to a similar conclusion in Aune, Revelation –, –. Following the expression used by Witherington, Revelation, , it is an ‘antiestablishment mythology’. He continues thus: ‘Christianity reworks its biblical heritage and transforms pagan material in line with its own aim of communicating truth in its cultural context’. Cf. Jan Willem van Henten: ‘Dragon Myth and Imperial Ideology in Revelation –’, SBLSP () –. Though the pertinence of these versions is dubious: the Ugaritic parallels for the protagonist’s death cited by Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, –, are too distant in time from the composition of the book of Revelation to be relevant here; moreover, both these and the Egyptian texts concerning Osiris’ fate (–) are quite dissimilar from the storyline in Rev . Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, – asserts the presence and the central importance of the Apollo cult and the knowledge of the myth relating the birth of the deity in the region. We can find another hint of the polemics against Apollo in Rev ., cf. Aune, Revelation –, ; Beale, Revelation, –. Schreiber, ‘Sternenfrau’, –, suggests the influence of the Horus and Typhon myth. However, Busch, Der gefallene Drache, –, argues convincingly on the basis of contemporary accounts that the birth of Horus apparently disappeared from this myth before the first century C.E.
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, the Messiah is born in the presence of the dragon—and the frightening enemy is totally unable to injure him. Jesus is above the mortal attempts of the dragon. And in the same way, he is above every deity occurring in the popular combat myths, even above the emperor proclaiming himself the incarnation of Apollo: Christ does not need to fight with the source of every chaos, he is the Lord of every creature, he is the only Lord even above the dragon. John’s first readers undoubtedly recognized the emphatic change in the wellknown action. Jesus who is the Lord of the Christian community, living in the uncertain situation of an often misunderstood religious minority and facing recurrent persecutions, is the incontestable Victor of the past, the present and the future. His people do not have to worry about the moves of their enemy. Under the protection of Christ, they will triumph, and they will rule the nations with a rod of iron (.) received from the son caught up to the throne of God. The devil cannot change the decisions of the majestic Jesus. He is miserably defeated in a ‘non-combat’.
. Conclusion
As the recognized literary structure of the glorious appearances of Christ demonstrates, John does not ignore, but only delays the mention of Jesus’ death in Revelation . He underlines every time, as the victorious Jesus enters the stage, that his majesty is tightly connected to his crucifixion. However, he stresses everywhere that this event does not indicate the weakness of the Lamb, it rather manifests his sovereignty. Nobody can take away his life—he gives his blood freely as the resource for the victory; he would have the power to resist, and he has the power of giving his life (cf. John .). Even the Satan waging constant warfare against the Christians is disabled in front of him. Jesus’ death receives the suitable stress in heaven at the moment of the definitive absence of the dragon. And even if the enemy and his allies continue their assaults on God’s eschatological people, Jesus’ followers, the readers and the hearers of Revelation are already acquainted with the heavenly reality unknown to the Satan. They can face these attacks with the certitude resounding in the hymn (.): they possess the blood of the Lamb and the word of the testimony, the sufficient means of victory!
See van Henten: ‘Dragon Myth’, –; Jürgen H. Kalms, Der Sturz des Gottesfeindes: Traditionsgeschichtliche Studien zu Apokalypse (WMANT ; Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener, ) –; and Heike Omerzu, ‘Die Himmelsfrau in Apk : Ein polemischer Reflex des römischen Kaiserkults’, Apokalyptik als Herausforderung neutestamentlicher Theologie (ed. Michael Becker and Markus Öhler; WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) – (–).
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press,
STUDIORUM NOVI TESTAMENTI SOCIETAS THE SIXTY-FIFTH GENERAL MEETING – July
The sixty-fifth General Meeting of the Society was held at Humboldt University in Berlin, Germany from to July , under the presidency of Professor Adela Yarbro Collins (USA). About members, spouses and guests were present. On the first evening, Professor Christoph Markschies, the President of Humboldt University, warmly welcomed the Society to Berlin and the University with a reception at the Pergamon Museum.
The Academic Programme
The President delivered her Presidential Address with the title ‘The Female Body as Social Space in Timothy’ at the opening plenary session of the Society. Main Papers in plenary sessions were read by Prof. Andreas Dettwiler (Switzerland): ‘Mémoire et émergence d’une rhétorique renouvelée: l’exemple de Colossiens et Ephésiens’; Prof. Elizabeth Struthers Malbon (USA): ‘History, Theology, Story: Re-contextualizing Christology and Mark’s Messianic Secret’; Prof. Peter Arzt-Grabner (Austria): ‘Gott als vertrauenswürdiger Käufer und Verkäufer. Papyrologische Anmerkungen und bibeltheologische Schlussfolgerungen zum Gottesbild der Paulusbriefe’; and Prof. Loveday Alexander (UK): ‘The Gospel According to Celsus: The Apologetic Agenda and the Acts of the Apostles’. Eighteen short papers were given in simultaneous sessions by Jean-Claude Loba-Mkole (Kenya): ‘Emergence de l’exégèse interculturelle dans les études néotestamentaires’; Judith Gundry (USA): ‘Why is marriage “Good” and Celibacy “Better”? Bondage and Freedom in Corinthians ’; Eric C. Wong (Hong Kong): ‘The Externalization of Jesus Christ’s Inner World in the Gospel of Matthew: A Contribution towards Historical Jesus Research’; David G. Horrell (UK): ‘“Race,” “Nation,” “People”: Ethnic Identity-Construction in Peter :’; Stephen Hultgren (USA): ‘A Confessional Sitz im Leben for Habakkuk : in Early Christianity? The Evidence from Hebrews and Paul’; Hermann von Lips (Germany): ‘Das Martyrium des Timotheus und die Entstehung der Pastoralbriefe’; John Cook (USA): ‘Suffering in Peter: Local Anxiety, Empire and the Imitatio Christi’; Hans Kvalbein (Norway): ‘Do Not Trust the Dictionaries: Basileia is Realm, not Rule or Reign’; Adele Reinhartz (Canada): ‘Forging a New Identity: Johannine Rhetoric and the Audience of the
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Fourth Gospel’; John D. K. Ekem (Ghana): ‘Interpretation and Translation of the Phrase μιᾶς γυναικὸς ἄνδρα ( Timothy :): An African Perspective’; Thomas Witulski (Germany): ‘Der ἄλλος ἄγγελος ἰσχυρός (Apk ,f.), der Gott Helios und der Koloss von Rhodos’; William S. Campbell (UK): ‘Covenantal Nomism and/or Participation in Christ? E. P. Sanders Reconsidered’; Paul Anderson (USA): ‘Addressing the Riddles of the Fourth Gospel’; Ilaria L. E. Ramelli (Italy): ‘Allusions to the New Testament in the Pseudepigraphical Correspondence Between Seneca and Paul’; Chris Manus (Nigeria): ‘The Call of Matthew/Levi (Matthew :/Mark :/Luke :): A Mistaken Identity or a Change of Name?’; Eberhard W. Güting (Germany): ‘Luke’s List of Nations in Acts :-: Context, Form and Function’; Michael Winger (USA): ‘Good News and Imagination: What Significance did Historical Fact have for the Evangelists (and their Sources)?’; Edwin Broadhead (USA): ‘Jewish Christianity and the Religious Map of Antiquity’. Fifteen seminars with the following subjects, convenors and presenters were held: () ‘Christliche Literatur des späten ersten Jahrhunderts und des zweiten Jahrhunderts/Christian Literature of the Late First Century and the Second Century’ (F. Prostmeier and H. van de Sandt): Stefan Beyerle (Greifswald), ‘Die Anfänge jüdischer Identität am Beispiel von “Propaganda” und “Apokalyptik”’; Judith Lieu (Cambridge), ‘Constructing Judaism/Constructing Heresy in the Second Century’; Markus Lang (Vienna), ‘Zwischen Synkretismus und Polemik. Das Judentum in der Darstellung des Kerygma Petri’. () ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls in Relation to Early Judaism and Early Christianity’ (J. J. Collins and J. Frey): Jörg Frey (Zurich), ‘Flesh in the DSS and Spirit in the DSS: Is There Really a Connection Prefiguring the Antithesis in the NT?’; Respondent: Loren Stuckenbruck (Princeton); Thomas Tobin, S.J. (Loyola University Chicago), ‘Flesh and Spirit in the Pauline Literature in light of the DSS’; Respondent: John R. Levison (Seattle); Harold Attridge (Yale), ‘Flesh and Spirit in the Johannine Literature in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls’; Respondent: John J. Collins (Yale). () ‘The Greco-Roman World of the New Testament: Language, Culture, Ideas’ (S. E. Porter and P. Arzt-Grabner; co-adviser L. Rydbeck): Armin Baum (Gießen), ‘The Epilogue (John :–), the Colophon (John :–), and the Last Chapter of John’s Gospel. Observations against the Background of Ancient Literary Conventions’; Anne Lykke (Guest), ‘Where Did the Jewish Coins Come from? The Beginning of Jewish Coinage in Its Ancient Context’; Michał Wojciechowski (Olsztyn), ‘Vision of God in the Olympic Oration of Dio Chrysostom and in the New Testament’, and Runar M. Thorsteinsson (Guest): ‘Roman Christianity and Roman Stoicism: A Comparative Study of Ancient Morality’. () ‘The Greek of the New Testament’ (C. C. Caragounis and J. W. Voelz): Albert Hogeterp (Guest, Nijmegen), ‘New Testament Greek as Popular Speech: Adolf Deissmann in Retrospect’; Respondent: David du Toit (München); James W. Voelz (St Louis), ‘The Greek of the New Testament and
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Its Place within the Context of Hellenistic Greek’; Respondents: Rollin Kearns (Tübingen) and Jan van der Watt (Nijmegen); Chrys C. Caragounis (Lund), ‘Perfect for Aorist. Subtle Nicety or Indiscrimination?’; Respondent: Jarl Ulrichsen (Trondheim). () ‘Inhalte und Probleme einer neutestamentlichen Theologie’ (C. Landmesser and M. Seifrid): Mogens Müller (Copenhagen), ‘Bundesideologie im Matthäusevangelium. Die Vorstellung vom neuen Bund als Grundlage des matthäischen Gesetzesverkündigung’; Andrew Das (Elmhurst, USA), ‘Covenant in Paul’; Knut Backhaus (München), ‘Covenant and Christ. The Christological Redefinition of a Biblical Motif in Hebrews and Early Christianity’. () ‘The Johannine Writings’ (M.M. Thompson, R. Zimmermann): James D. G. Dunn (Durham, UK), ‘Paul, John and the Spirit’; Thomas Söding (Münster), ‘Heiligung bei Johannes und Paulus’; Mary Coloe (Victoria, Australia), ‘Temple and Body: Johannine and Pauline Cultic Images of Incorporation into Christ’. () ‘New Challenges for New Testament Hermeneutics in the st Century’ (B. McLean and O. Wischmeyer): Bernard C. Lategan (Stellenbosch), ‘Recent Tendencies in Anglo-Saxon New Testament Hermeneutics’; B. T. Viviano, O.P. (Fribourg), ‘The Situation in Applied New Testament Hermeneutics in the United States’; Mark Elliott (Guest), ‘New Tendencies for Spiritual Exegesis of the New Testament in British Scholarship’. () ‘The Jewish World in New Testament Times’ (S. Freyne, J. W. van Henten and W. Horbury): James McLaren (Australian Catholic University, Melbourne), ‘Josephus as a Critic of Rome’; Respondent: Daniel R. Schwartz (Jerusalem); Helen Bond (Edinburgh), ‘Josephus and Gender Rhetoric: The Depiction of Herod in the Jewish War’; Respondent: Joseph Sievers (Rome, Guest); Jan Willem van Henten, ‘Josephus from a Narratological Perspective: Time and Place’; Respondent: Turid Karlsen Seim (Rome/Oslo). () ‘The Reception of Paul’ (C. K. Rothschild and C. Gerber): Christine Gerber (Hamburg), ‘The Reception of Paul in Ephesians’; Richard I. Pervo (Evanston), ‘The Reception of Paul in “The Acts of Paul”’; Ismo Dunderberg (Helsinki), ‘The Reception of Paul in Valentinianism’. () ‘History and Theology of Mission in the New Testament: Global Challenges and Opportunities’ (J. Ådna, J. Kanagaraj, and S. Tofană): Göran Lennartsson (Uppsala), ‘Identity and Unity Expressed through the Jerusalem Collection’; Respondent: Eugene Eung-Chun Park (San Francisco, USA); David Sim (Melbourne), ‘Competing Missions in the Early Church’; Respondent: Paul Trebilco (Dunedin, New Zealand); The seminar coordinators, ‘The Missionary Speeches in the Acts of the Apostles’; Report and discussion of results from the consultation at the School of Mission and Theology in Stavanger, Norway, – May, . () ‘Pauline Theology in Galatians and Romans’ (B. Roberts Gaventa, J. M. G. Barclay and M. C. de Boer): Martin Rese (Münster), ‘Abrahambund und/oder Abrahamverheißung im Galater- und Römerbrief’; M. C. de Boer (Amsterdam), ‘The Fulfillment of the Law in Galatians : (with an Occasional Glance at Corresponding Texts in
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Romans)’; Troels Engberg-Pedersen (Copenhagen), ‘How Important is “Anthropology” in Paul’s Interventions in Galatians and Romans?’. () ‘The Acts of the Apostles and Ancient Historiography’ (K. Backhaus, J. Schröter and G. Sterling): Hubert Cancik (Tübingen), ‘Hairesis, Diatribe, Ekklesia. Griechische Schulgeschichten und das Lukanische Geschichtswerk’; Steve Mason (York University), ‘Being Earnest, being Playful: Speeches in Josephus and Acts’; David Moessner (Dubuque), ‘“Witness” Trumping “Eyewitness”: Paul as Guarantee of the Apostolic Gospel in Luke’s Hellenistic History Writing’. () ‘Christian Apocryphal Literature’ (T. Nicklas, C. M. Tuckett and J. Verheyden): Gesine Robinson (Claremont), ‘An Update on the Gospel of Judas’; Christoph Markschies (Berlin, Guest) and J. Schröter (Berlin), ‘The New “Antike christliche Apokryphen”’; Judith Hartenstein (Leun, Germany), ‘Apokryphe Evangelien und die Entwicklung frühchristlicher Theologie und Christologie am Beispiel der Sophia Jesu Christi’. () ‘New Testament Ethics’ (F. W. Horn, D. Horrell and E. Baasland): Friedrich Wilhelm Horn and Ruben Zimmermann (Mainz), ‘Begründungszusammenhänge neutestamentlicher Ethik’; Respondent: Jan van der Watt (Nijmegen); Richard Burridge (London), ‘Using the New Testament to Address Ethical Dilemmas Today: Methodological Reflections Building upon Gustafson and Hays’; Respondent: David Horrell (Exeter); Matthias Konradt (Heidelberg), ‘Reception and Transformation of Ancient Ethical Traditions in Early Christianity’; Respondent: Richard Hays (Duke). () ‘Social History and the New Testament’ (H. Löhr, M. Öhler and A. Runesson): Werner Eck (Guest), ‘Sklaven und Freigelassene von Römern in Iudaea und den angrenzenden Provinzen’; Albert Harrill (Indiana University, Bloomington), ‘The Psychology of Slaves in the Gospel Parables: A Case Study in Social History’; Hermut Löhr (Münster), ‘The Status of Slaves in Christian Communities at the End of the First and the Beginning of the Second Century C.E.’.
The Business Meeting
At the Business Meeting of the Society, Prof. Armand Puig i Tàrrech (Spain) accepted the Society’s invitation to become President-Elect (to take office as President at the General Meeting in Annandale-on-Hudson, New York, USA), and Prof. Dr Henk Jan de Jonge was invited to become DeputyPresident-Elect (to take office as President at the General Meeting in Leuven, Belgium). Prof. Camile Focant (Belgium) and Prof. Dr Turid Karlsen Seim (Norway) retired from the Committee and Prof. Christian Grappe (France) and Prof. Samuel Byrskog (Sweden) were elected to serve in their places for a three-year term. Prof. M. C. de Boer was appointed to a second five-year term as Secretary of the Society from January . The Society received the Treasurer’s Report and formally accepted the statement of accounts as presented by the Treasurer, Dr Helen Bond.
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The Assistant Secretary for International Initiatives, Prof. Bernard C. Lategan, reported on the work of existing liaison committees for Eastern Europe and Africa, on the initiatives being undertaken to establish such committees for Asia and Latin America, and on the progress being made in the establishment of an SNTS Electronic Library. The Editor of New Testament Studies, John M. G. Barclay, outlined the editorial policy for the journal and gave a report on both the journal and the monograph series. The Editorial Board nominated (and the Society approved) Profs J. -N. Aletti, F. Avemarie, B. Byrne, K. L. King, G. R. O’Day and H. Roose for a threeyear term ( January – December ) in place of Profs K. Backhaus, I. Dunderberg, J. T. Fitzgerald, M. Y. Macdonald, F. Tolmie and Dr H. van de Sandt who were due to retire at the end of . The Society received with regret news of the deaths of the following members: Profs E. Earle Ellis; Peter Fiedler; Albert Fuchs; S. Giversen; Michael Goulder; Z. I. Herman; Jakob Kremer; G. Kretschmar; Simon Légasse; Stanislav Pisarek; John Reumann; Joachim Rohde; R. H. Smith; Max Wilcox; Robert (Robin) McL. Wilson (President of the Society in Rome ). Members observed a minute’s silence in memory of these scholars. The following nominees for membership were elected to the Society: Dr Ann Graham Brock (Iliff School of Theology, Denver, USA); Prof. Claire Clivaz (Faculté de théologie et de sciences des religions, University of Lausanne, Switzerland); Dr Anders Gerdmar (Livets Ord Theological Seminary, Uppsala, Sweden); Dr Paul Holloway (Sewanee: The University of the South, Tennessee, USA); Dr Gudrun Holtz (Eberhard-Karls Universität Tübingen, Germany); Prof. Reidar Hvalvik (Norwegian School of Theology, Oslo, Norway); Dr Michael Labahn (Kirchliche Hochschule, Wuppertal, Germany); Prof. Lo Lung-kwong (Chung Chi College, Chinese University of Hong Kong); Dr Silvia Pellegrini (Institut für Katholische Theologie der Hochschule Vechta, Germany); Prof. Thomas Phillips (Point Loma Nazarene University, San Diego, USA); Dr Thomas Popp (Universität Halle-Wittenberg, Germany); Dr Michael Reichardt (Universität zu Köln, Germany); Dr Boris Repschinski (Innsbruck University, Austria); Dr Todd Still (Truett Theological Seminary, Baylor University, Waco, Texas, USA); Prof. Elsa Tamez (Latin American Biblical University, Costa Rica); Dr Mikael Tellbe (Örebro School of Theology, Sweden); Dr James Thompson (Abilene Christian University, Texas, USA); Dr Robert Webb (McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada); Prof. Ansgar Wucherpfennig (Hochschule Sankt Georgen, Frankfurt am Main, Germany); Dr Magnus Zetterholm (Lund University, Sweden).
Social Events
Social events at the conference included a reception and buffet sponsored by Walter de Gruyter in the Berliner Rathaus; a chamber concert by ‘Musica
STUDIORUM NOVI TESTAMENTI SOCIETAS
Authentica Berlin’ in the Marienkirche; and a boat trip on the Wannsee, with a reception by the Roman Catholic and Protestant Churches of Germany. Optional excursions on the Saturday included ‘Chorin/Angermünde—The UNESCO Biosphere Reserve Schorfheide-Chorin’; ‘Neuruppin/ Rheinsberg— Schinkel, Fontane and Frederick the Great’; ‘Potsdam—City of Gardens and Castles’.
Future Meetings
The Society will hold its General Meeting in Annandale-on-Hudson (New York) in , in Leuven (Belgium) in and in Perth (Australia) in . ..
M. C. de Boer
STUDIORUM NOVI TESTAMENTI SOCIETAS COMMITTEE MEMBERS AND OFFICERS FOR –
Committee
President: Professor A. Yarbro Collins (United States) Past President: Professor A. Lindemann (Germany) President-Elect: Professor A. Puig i Tàrrach (Spain) Deputy President-Elect (auditor/observer): Professor H. J. de Jonge (Netherlands) Professor S. Byrskog (Sweden) Professor B. R. Gaventa (United States) Professor C. Grappe (France) Professor J. J. Kanagaray (India) Professor Dr M. Küchler (Switzerland) Professor M. Y. MacDonald (Canada) Professor J.-C. Loba-Mkole (Kenya) Professor Dr M. Wolter (Germany) Officers
Secretary: Professor M. C. de Boer, Faculteit der Godgeleerdheid, Vrije Universiteit, De Boelelaan , HV Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Tel. . E-mail [email protected] (preferred) or [email protected] Assistant Secretary: Dr A. Clarke, Dept of Divinity & Religious Studies, King’s College, University of Aberdeen, Aberdeen AB UB, Scotland. E-mail a.d. [email protected] Assistant Secretary for International Initiatives: Professor B. C. Lategan, PO Box , Stellenbosch, South Africa. E-mail [email protected] Treasurer: Dr H. K. Bond, School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh, New College, Mound Place, Edinburgh EH LX, Scotland. E-mail [email protected] Editor of the Journal (New Testament Studies): Professor J. M. G. Barclay, Department of Theology and Religion, University of Durham, Abbey House, Palace Green, Durham DH RS, England. E-mail [email protected] Editor of the SNTS Monograph Series: Dr. J. M. Court, A The Street, Boughton, Faversham, Kent ME BE, England. E-mail [email protected]
S.N.T.S. MEMBERSHIP LIST,
Dr
Reidar AASGAARD, IFIKK, Faculty of Humanities, University of Oslo, P.O. Box Blindern NO- Oslo, NORWAY. E-mail [email protected]
Prof. Paul J. ACHTEMEIER, Union Theological Seminary, Brook Road, Richmond, VA , USA. E-mail [email protected] Prof. A. K. M. ADAM, Seabury-Western Theol. Sem., Sheridan Road, Evanston, IL , USA. E-mail [email protected] Dr Edward ADAMS, Department of Theology & Religious Studies, King’s College London, Strand, London WCR LS, UNITED KINGDOM. E-mail [email protected] Prof. Dr Jostein ÅDNA, School of Mission and Theology, Misjonsmarka , N