Scripture Cannot Be Broken: The Social Function of the Use of Scripture in the Fourth Gospel

SCRIPTURE CANNOT BE BROKEN: The Social Function of the Use of Scripture in the Fourth Gospel

Jaime Clark-Soles

BRILL

SCRIPTURE CANNOT BE BROKEN

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SCRIPTURE CANNOT BE BROKEN The Social Function of the Use of Scripture in the Fourth Gospel

BY

JAIME CLARK-SOLES

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B A P, I. B • L 2003

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Clark-Soles, Jaime, 1967– Scripture cannot be broken : the social function of the use of Scripture in the Fourth Gospel / by Jaime Clark-Soles. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0 –391–04141–X 1. Bible. N.T. John—Social scientific criticism. 2. Bible—Use—History. 3. Johannine school. 4. Qumran community. 5. Branch Davidians. I. Title: Scripture cannot be broken. II. Title. BS2615.52.C57 2003 226.5'067—dc21 2003001119

ISBN 0–391–04141–X © Copyright 2003 by Brill Academic Publishers, Inc., Boston All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy item for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910 Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change.       

To Wayne Meeks ˜w én≈mbrhsen sof¤an épÚ kard¤aw aÈtoË —Jesus ben Sirach 50.27

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I have been most privileged to work with exceptional faculty who first inspired my scholarly imagination and then set about the more difficult task of directing that imagination toward disciplined thought and articulate expression. Preeminent among them stands Susan R. Garret, who first encouraged me to consider advanced work in New Testament. Wayne Meeks has been a steady presence from my first Greek exegesis course in seminary until now, as I serve as a faculty member at Perkins School of Theology. As both teacher and friend he has generously shared his time and counsel. I first met Lou Martyn in a Galatians course at Yake Divinity School; he has influenced my scholarship in diverse ways. I thank David Bartlett, whose contributions to my life and work are hard to categorize. At one point or another over the past ten years he has served as my professor, my fellow American Baptist minister, my boss, my pastor, and now my colleague. Through it all he has been a friend. Dale Martin and Harold Attridge were kind enough to read and comment on the manuscript. I thank Daniel Boyarin for his interest in and encouragement of the project. Nancy Ammerman’s expertise as a sociologist of religion permeates this project. By directing me to literature in various subfields of sociology, she enabled me to find a language useful for asking the particular questions I wanted to ask of the Fourth Gospel and useful for venturing possible answers. I have learned much from Stephen Fraade and Victor Bers and appreciate their continued willingness to serve as resources whenever my research takes me into their fields. Thanks to Perkins School of Theology for providing a wonderful work atmosphere and support for research assistance in preparing this manuscript. David Watson, Jeremy Bakker, and Lee Jefferson provided valuable assistance. I thank my editors, Patrick Alexander and Renee Ricker, for their impressive expertise and patient help through the publication process. My most profound gratitutude goes to my family. My husband, Thad Clark-Soles, has helped me to carve out a life in which I “have it all,” including our wonderful children, Chloe and Caleb. I hope to lend them the same faith and support that I have enjoyed from my mother- and father-in-law, Caroline and Lewis Soles, and my parents, Margot and Harold Clark.

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgments ......................................................................

vii

Chapter One: Introduction ......................................................

1

The Question .......................................................................... Questions Usually Posed ........................................................ Useful Predecessors .................................................................. J. Louis Martyn .................................................................. Nils A. Dahl ...................................................................... Wayne A. Meeks ................................................................ Method of Inquiry ................................................................

1 2 4 4 6 7 8

Chapter Two: Sociological Models ..........................................

10

Wayne A. Meeks on Early Christianity .............................. Rodney Stark on Early Christianity .................................... Shaye Cohen on Second Temple Judaism .......................... A New Proposal .................................................................... Charting Results .................................................................... The Production of Culture .................................................... Relationship Between Sect and Parent Tradition .............. Establishing Distance .......................................................... Applied Theory .................................................................. Capitalizing on Closeness .................................................. Creating a Distinct Way of Life .......................................... Ethics and Ritual Practices .............................................. Language and Rhetoric .................................................... Sacred Texts ...................................................................... Role of Authoritative Leaders .......................................... Definition of the Future .................................................... Opposition from within the Sect .......................................... Opposition from Without ...................................................... Judgment against Opponents ................................................

12 15 18 20 24 24 37 37 39 46 47 47 49 52 53 54 54 54 55

x

 Growing the Sect .................................................................. Excursus: A History of Church and Sect ............................ Sect-Cult Distinctions ........................................................ Why Label the Group? .................................................... Conclusion ..............................................................................

55 56 62 63 65

Chapter Three: The Qumran Community ............................

66

Why Qumran? ........................................................................ The Origins of the Sect ........................................................ The Evidence from Qumran ................................................ Exegesis at Qumran .............................................................. Pesherite Exegesis .................................................................. Explicit Citations ................................................................ Allusions .............................................................................. Analysis of Primary Sources .................................................. Pesher Habakkuk ................................................................ The Damascus Document ................................................ 4QMMT ............................................................................ Indirect Use of Scripture in 4QMMT ...................... Charting Results .................................................................... Conclusions ............................................................................ Formation of the Sect ........................................................ Creating a Distinct Way of Life ...................................... Loci of Authority ................................................................ Scripture .......................................................................... Leaders ............................................................................ Definition of the Future .................................................... Opponents .......................................................................... Parent Tradition ............................................................ Sect-Defectors ................................................................ The “World” .................................................................. Growing the Sect .............................................................. Conclusion ..........................................................................

66 67 69 71 75 77 79 80 80 93 105 116 118 121 121 124 126 126 128 130 130 131 132 133 134 134

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Chapter Four: The Branch Davidian Community ................ 136 Introduction ............................................................................ Primary Sources .................................................................... Analysis of Primary Sources .................................................. Formation of the Sect ........................................................ Former Leaders and Their Works .................................. Loci of Authority ................................................................ Scripture .......................................................................... Leader ............................................................................ Koresh’s Authority .................................................... Koresh’s Technique .................................................... Ethics .................................................................................. Opponents .......................................................................... The World ...................................................................... The Church .................................................................... The (Other) Adventists .................................................. Sect-Defectors ................................................................ Scholars .......................................................................... Growing the Sect .............................................................. Creating a Sense of Belonging ........................................ Charting Results .................................................................... Conclusion ..............................................................................

136 144 146 146 155 156 156 162 162 168 173 178 178 179 181 185 188 191 193 197 202

Chapter Five: The Community of the Fourth Gospel .......... 207 Roles of Narrative in the Life of a Sect ............................ Roles of Scripture Embedded in a Narrative .................... Scripture .................................................................................. Excursus: 5:31–47 .................................................................. 7:14–24 .............................................................................. 7:37–52 ................................................................................ Jesus’ Own Words .................................................................. mimnÆskomai ........................................................................ plhrÒv ................................................................................ thr°v .................................................................................... pisteÊv ................................................................................ Allusions .................................................................................. Charting Results ....................................................................

208 211 221 241 250 252 294 294 296 297 303 311 314

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Chapter Six: Conclusions .......................................................... 316 Formation of the Sect ............................................................ Creating a Distinct Way of Life .......................................... Ethical Behavior ................................................................ Ritual Practice .................................................................... Loci of Authority .................................................................... Scripture .............................................................................. Roles of Authoritative Leaders .......................................... Definition of the Future ........................................................ Opponents .............................................................................. Parent Tradition ................................................................ Sect-Defectors .................................................................... The World .......................................................................... The Government ................................................................ Judgment against Opponents ................................................ Growing the Sect .................................................................. Creating a Sense of Belonging ............................................ Success of the Group ............................................................ The Potency of Scripture ......................................................

316 319 319 321 322 322 325 328 329 329 331 332 333 334 335 336 341 342

Bibliography ................................................................................ 343 Index of Ancient Sources .......................................................... 353 Index of Authors ........................................................................ 361

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTION

The Question John 10:35 contains a puzzling phrase: in the middle of a debate with the Pharisees, Jesus says, “Scripture cannot be broken.” What does John mean by this? Is the phrase a definitive statement,1 a parenthetical aside by Jesus,2 an intrusion by the narrator,3 or simply part of the protasis of a conditional sentence?4 How does this statement about Scripture compare to the rest of the Fourth Gospel’s attitude toward Scripture? To inquire after John’s use of Scripture is not to ask a new question. To inquire after the social function of John’s use of Scripture is. If David Kelsey5 has taught us anything about Scripture, it is that Scripture functions, and it functions within and for the sake of communities. Oddly, those who have worried about the social history of the Johannine community have not undertaken an extensive study of the way John uses Scripture to do something for and to his community, while those who have attended to the issue of Scripture in John have shown little, if any, interest in a flesh and blood community living sometime in the late first century ..6 I intend to bridge the gap. The  and the  treat it thus. The , the , and the  set the phrase off by dashes, indicating a parenthetical aside by Jesus. 3 Though the  marks with parentheses what it interprets as narrative intrusions, it apparently does not consider John 10:35 as such. No English translation, in fact, interprets John 10:35 this way. 4 Though no English translation interprets the phrase as part of the protasis, it is the most natural grammatical translation. The topic will be discussed in more detail in chapter five. 5 David Kelsey, The Uses of Scripture in Recent Theology (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975). 6 The omission of socio-historical questions as they refer to scriptural interpretation is not unique to  as Devorah Dimant manifests in her article, “Use and Interpretation of Mikra in the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha” (in Martin Jan Mulder, ed., Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity [ed. Martin Jan Mulder; Assen/Maastrich: Van Gorcum, 1988] 379–419): “A thorough and systematic application of the functional 1 2

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  Questions Usually Posed

Various aspects of John’s use of Scripture have been studied.7 One older and now outdated debate in Johannine scholarship centered on the “Jewish” versus “Hellenistic” background or character of John’s Gospel. John’s use of Scripture provided evidence for the “Jewish” side of the debate.8 The textual tradition used by John has been explored.9 The “fulfillment” theme in John has been a favorite of those who express interest in John’s use of Scripture.10 The theological and christological functions of the  citations have evoked interest as well.11 Peder Borgen has conducted one of the most noteworthy investigations of this type in Bread from Heaven, a monograph devoted to the manna tradition as it appears in both John 6:31–58 and Philo. Regarding form, Borgen detects in the discourse “midrashic exegesis within the framework of a homiletic pattern common to Judaism and the early church,” a particular homiletical pattern whose original Sitz im Leben was preaching in a synagogue.12 Regarding the function of the content, Borgen argues: analysis outline above would demand a full understanding of . . . their social and historical background. . . . [The present survey] will not be able to go into the social and historical background of various usages of Mikra. . . .” (pp. 381–82). 7 For an extensive bibliography of Johannine research arranged by topic see Gilbert Van Belle, Johannine Bibliography: 1966–1985 (Brussel Wetenschappelijk Comite voor Godsdienstwetenschappen, Koninklijke Academie voor Wetenschappen, Letteren en Schone Kunsten van Belgie, 1988). 8 See Joseph A. Fitzmeyer, “The Use of Explicit Old Testament Quotations in Qumran Literature and in the New Testament,” NTS 7 (1960–1961): 297–333. 9 See, for example, Bruce G. Schuchard, Scripture Within Scripture: The Interrelationship of Form and Function in the Explicit Old Testament Citatitons in the Gospel of John (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), whose main concern is the textual tradition used by John. He concludes (p. xvii) that John relies upon “one and only one textual tradition, the OG.” OG signifies “Old Greek,” the first Greek translation of the Bible. 10 Richard Morgan, “Fulfillment in the Fourth Gospel: The Old Testament Foundations,” Int 11 (1957): 155–65; John O’Rourke, “John’s Fulfillment Texts,” ScEccl 19 (1967): 433–43; C. F. D. Moule, “Fulfillment-Words in the New Testament: Use and Abuse,” NTS 14 (1967–68): 293–320; F. F. Bruce, The Time is Fulfilled: Five Aspects of the Fulfillment of the Old Testament in the New (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978). 11 D. A. Carson claims that the typology employed by John serves a “replacement motif.” D. A. Carson, “John and the Johannine Epistles,” in It is Written: Scripture Citing Scripture (ed. D. A. Carson and H. G. M. Williamson; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 245–64. Regarding the function of the  citations, Carson writes (p. 246): “The  citations in one way or another point to Jesus, identifying him, justifying the responses he elicits, grounding the details of his life and death in the Scriptures.” The fulfillment theme looms large in Bruce G. Schuchard’s investigation, as indicated by his conclusion (Scripture, 156): “Jesus, therefore, has fulfilled all of Scripture and is himself its ultimate significance.” 12 Borgen, Bread from Heaven: An Exegetical Study of the Concept of Manna in the Gospel of John and the Writings of Philo (Leiden: Brill, 1981), 55.

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The homily in John 6, 31–58 . . . is a polemic against a gnosticizing tendency to draw a sharp distinction between the spiritual sphere and the external sphere. John opposed and was influenced by a docetic Christology and an understanding of the vision of God which was so general that it played down the importance of the external Torah and the unique role of Jesus Christ of history.13

Borgen concludes the monograph with these words: The distinction between the sphere of man and the divine sphere of the spirit in 6, 63 leads to a docetic Christology. The homily of 6, 31–58 develops an anti-docetic Christology as the answer: the spiritual bread from heaven is identical with Jesus, the son of Joseph, a historical human being (“flesh and blood”), with whom the elected believers are united through the mediation of the eucharist and the words of Jesus. The docetic spiritualists, therefore, are like “Jewish” externalists, because they believe the bread from heaven to be found outside the Incarnate One. Furthermore, in the bodily resurrection at the last day (6, 39.40.44, 54) the anthropological and soteriological distinction between flesh and spirit (6, 63) will finally be removed, and the spiritual and external spheres will be one and the same.14

While Borgen explains important aspects of John 6, he uses a traditional approach that focuses on form and theological content with little attention to the social situation of the Johannine community.15 Literary critics of the Fourth Gospel not only show little interest in the first-century Johannine community, but also largely omit consideration of how the scriptural citations function in the narrative itself.16 Paul Duke’s work, Irony in the Fourth Gospel, does venture to move from a literary observation, namely, John’s use of irony, to the social situation of the Fourth Gospel; however, like all of the works cited here, he does not attend to John’s use of Scripture.17 13

Ibid., 148. Ibid., 192. 15 John 6 has garnered extensive scholarly attention. At the forefront have been questions regarding the sacramental language (e.g., Rudolf Bultmann, The Gospel of John [trans. G. R. Beasley-Murray; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971], 218–37), the presentation of Jesus as “the Prophet” (Wayne A. Meeks, The Prophet-King: Moses Traditions and the Johannine Christology [Leiden: Brill, 1967]), the Christology, and the unity or disunity of the chapter (Paul N. Anderson, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel: Its Unity and Disunity in Light of John 6 [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1996]). All are important topics, but the present investigation must be limited to the question of whether or not there are any hints of the Johannine community’s social situation present there. 16 See, for example, R. Alan Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A study in literary design (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), and Mark Stibbe, John (Sheffield: JSOT, 1993). Neither does Stephen D. Moore’s Literary Criticism and the Gospels (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989) treat the appearance of Scripture. 17 Paul D. Duke, Irony in the Fourth Gospel (Atlanta: John Knox, 1985). 14

4

  Useful Predecessors

A number of scholars have sought to incarnate the community implied by the text of the Fourth Gospel. Their work not only illuminates various details of the present investigation but also provides its very starting point. J. Louis Martyn In History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, J. L. Martyn asks about the community behind the Fourth Gospel and infers much about its social situation by reading some of John’s narratives as self-allusive. Martyn argues for a “two-level drama” in John: one refers to the einmalig18 and the other to John’s contemporary situation. By plotting the story of the blind man in ch. 9 on a dramatic map, Martyn discovers that the story reflects the schism that occurred in the synagogue once a group of powerful Jews, whom John calls “Pharisees,” decreed that confession of Jesus as the Messiah would lead to expulsion from the synagogue. In Martyn’s analysis, Jesus represents the Christian preacher, the blind man a faithful convert. Not only ofl pollo¤, but also Jewish rulers decline to make a public Christian confession for fear of dismissal from the synagogue. Evidence of the likelihood that this depicts the historical period of John’s community rather than the time of Jesus may be gleaned from the repeated use of éposunãgvgow language, found in 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2.19 In his reconstruction of the origins of the community, Martyn, perhaps under the influence of Acts 17:22, visualizes a Christian missionary or preacher proclaiming Jesus as Messiah to those in the synagogue. Some Jews believe, so a sub-group forms in the synagogue comprised of those who still participate in regular synagogue worship but also celebrate the Eucharist and conduct catechesis. At some point synagogue authorities determine that belief in Jesus as Messiah constitutes apostasy and take action against Christians. As a result, “What had been an inner-synagogue group of Christian Jews now 18 By way of definition, Martyn writes: “By it I mean something like ‘back there’ as opposed to ‘now and here.’ . . . The reader will not go far wrong if he renders my use of einmalig by the expression ‘once upon a time.’ ” J. Louis Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (Nashville: Abingdon, 1979), 29 n. 22. 19 In specifying the passive sense, John uses the phrase éposunãgvgow gen°syai (9:22). In the active sense, “to expel from the synagogue,” John uses éposunãgvgon poie›n (12:42, 16:2). The word éposunãgvgow does not appear in the  or secular literature.

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became—against its will—a separated community of Jewish Christians.”20 Even with the threats at hand, there are still those who remain within the synagogue but consider themselves Christian. Moreover, Christian preachers are still trying to secure converts from the synagogue, “to lead people astray,” a fact reflected in the drama of chs. 5 and 7. According to Martyn, “leading astray” comprises a legal accusation. Specifically regarding John’s use of the , Martyn expresses interest in the figure of Moses and how John’s assumptions about Moses compared to those of other Jews of his era. John allows Jesus to be a Mosaic Prophet-Messiah, but Jesus is not the antitype of Moses. Referring to this conclusion he claims: “John provides us with data which make it possible to speak about the specific hermeneutic which he applies to the Old Testament.”21 Martyn does briefly acknowledge John’s use of earlier traditions. At the general level, he says, “Of course not everyone in the early church viewed alike the relationship between a concern for tradition and effective involvement in contemporary issues. One of the most pressing needs in  study may be a careful analysis of the various ways in which  authors viewed this relationship.”22 The present work aims to contribute to such an analysis. Martyn never defines “tradition”; presumably he means at least the traditions concerning Jesus, but Scripture would also fit well into his observation that no  author simply repeats tradition, but “everyone shapes it, bends it, makes selections from among its riches, even adds to it. . . . Consequently, when we read the Fourth Gospel, we are listening both to tradition and to a new and unique interpretation of that tradition.”23 The only specific statement Martyn offers about John’s use of the  is this: “From a quite special point of view he [ John] could even agree that Scripture (≤ grafÆ, not ı nÒmow) has about it an imperative quality (cf. 7:23 with, e.g., 20:9).”24 To be sure, the reader will easily detect my debt to Martyn’s scholarship as my presuppositions about the traumatic, antagonistic social situation in which the Fourth Gospel was forged become evident. But Martyn’s work does not treat the social function of John’s use of the . Hence, while Martyn’s work provides important background for my own, he does not address my question at all. 20 21 22 23 24

Martyn, History, 66. Ibid., 104 n. 154. Ibid., 19. Ibid. Ibid., 104.

6

 

Nils A. Dahl In his article, “The Johannine Church and History,”25 Nils A. Dahl notes that John adopts  imagery (e.g., vine and branch) but changes the meaning; that is, the imagery comes to represent Christ’s relationship with the Johannine sectarians rather than the way God deals with God’s people throughout history. Like Martyn, Dahl asks about the relationship between tradition and contemporary life for John. Dahl contends, “What matters is the witness which the Scriptures in their totality bear to Christ (5:39, 46)” and “The Scriptures, as understood by John, bear witness to Christ in the present, rather than to a history of a salvation in the past with an importance of its own.”26 According to Dahl, John declares continuity between tradition and John’s contemporary time not through a salvation history scheme but by compelling the traditions to bear witness to Jesus. This applies both to John the Baptist and  history, including the visions of Isaiah (Isa 6), Moses (Exod 33:17–34:9), and Abraham (based on Gen 15:7–21 and Jewish lore). Dahl insists that for John the “true greatness” of the  figures lies solely in their function as witnesses to Jesus: “Whoever drinks of the well, which Jacob gave to his descendants, will thirst again (4:10–14). Moses did not give the true bread from heaven; the fathers ate manna in the wilderness, and they died (6:32, 49). Abraham died too, and so did the prophets (8:52).”27 Dahl argues that the Fourth Evangelist defines the church as the “true Israel” and speaks of its continuing mission to bear witness to Christ in a world hostile to him, a world that has already been defeated “legally” if not evidently. But Dahl remains on the level of ideas and theology and does not attend to the actual social situation in which John’s community finds itself. In comparing John with Gnosticism he says, “One example of this affinity may be seen in the conception of the church as the community of those who are of the truth and have heard the voice of the Savior”;28 Dahl fails to provide anything more concrete than this. Hence, while he does attempt to investigate John’s use of traditions, he never asks about

25 Nils A. Dahl, “The Johannine Church and History,” in Nils A. Dahl, Jesus in the Memory of the Early Church (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1974), 99–119. 26 Ibid., 106. 27 Ibid., 107. 28 Ibid., 118.

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the social function of Scripture in the Fourth Gospel; he never asks if and how John used Scripture to provide identity and social boundaries for a sectarian group born out of a Jewish community that first possessed that very Scripture. Wayne A. Meeks Wayne Meeks alone has tested the waters in which I wish to swim, particularly in his article “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism.”29 The bulk of the article treats the descent/ascent motif in the Fourth Gospel, but Meeks asks about the motif for sociological rather than merely theological or ideological reasons. What social function does John’s symbolism serve, especially the above/below symbolism? Meeks concludes that John projects the experience of his community onto Jesus’ own so that the presentation of Jesus as alien, not of this world, and hated by the Jews parallels the experience of the sect. This not only provides an etiology of the group but also reminds and assures them that following Jesus necessarily implies “a change in social location,” namely, a separation from the world, especially the world of Judaism. The Fourth Gospel justifies the existence of the community, helps to shape its identity, and draws sharp boundaries around the sectarians: “One of the primary functions of the book, therefore, must have been to provide a reinforcement for the community’s social identity, which appears to have been largely negative. It provided a symbolic universe which gave religious legitimacy, a theodicy, to the group’s actual isolation from the larger society.”30 The Fourth Gospel is a book for insiders, much like some of the Qumran literature. Drawing upon the sociology of knowledge, Meeks suggests that John’s Gospel provided the group with a new symbolic world and therefore a new reality. It is surprising to find that, in the twenty-five years since the article was published, no one has gone on to ask where John’s use of Scripture fits into the “continual, harmonic reinforcement between social experience and ideology.”31 Surely a discussion of identity formation in a Jewish sectarian group is incomplete without a treatment 29 Wayne A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” JBL 91 (1972): 44–72. 30 Ibid., 70. 31 Ibid., 71.

8

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of the role of Scripture in that formation. In this study, I exegete the parts of John that evidence a concern for Scripture to discover what it might indicate about John’s community of faith. Like Meeks, I draw upon the work of sociologists to aid my analysis.

Method of Inquiry The heuristic framework for this study derives from two branches of sociology: the sociology of religion and the production of culture. Chapter Two lays out that framework. Its overall construction is especially informed by the work of William Sims Bainbridge, Rodney Stark, and Bryan Wilson on sects and other religious movements; Nancy Ammerman on the culture of congregations; and Robert Wuthnow on the production of culture, including the production of the sacred. This study uses the comparative method of social history. It is useful to have both an ancient and a modern group with which to compare the community of the Fourth Gospel. The Qumran community and the Branch Davidians serve as those comparative communities. Chapter Three inquires after the social function of the use of Scripture in the Qumran community. The Qumran community has yielded much for archaeologists and biblical scholars alike. Like the Branch Davidians, the Essenes marked boundaries in a radically physical way, withdrawing to a separate space. They have bequeathed enough literary evidence to venture reasonable suggestions about their use of Scripture. From the extensive Qumran library, 4QMMT, Pesher Habakkuk, and CD have been selected as samples for study. Chapter Four focuses on the Branch Davidians, especially under the leadership of David Koresh. Scripture—memorization of it, study of it, and adherence to it—stood at the very center of the group’s communal existence. The Branch Davidians were nothing if not a people of “The Book.” Koresh typically taught through group Bible study, not through writing; therefore, in inquiring after the social function of the use of Scripture among the Branch Davidians, I will depend primarily on recorded Bible study sessions. This comparative method serves in two ways. First, it will tend to validate or invalidate claims made about the nature of the Fourth Gospel community. If I discover a feature of the Fourth Gospel community that would seem to make sense given its status as a “breakaway” group,

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I can test my hypothesis by asking whether the feature appears in other “break-away” groups. If it does not, then I must account for the dissimilarity; if it does, then I must account for the similarity. Second, much more is known about the life of the Qumran and Branch Davidian communities than the Fourth Gospel community. The better known may shed light on the lesser known. Chapter Five uses all of the sociological and comparative material to inform the exegesis of the nineteen occurrences of direct scriptural citation in the Fourth Gospel. Before undertaking that exegesis, however, I consider the fact that the Fourth Gospel, unlike the texts used for comparison, appears in narrative form. Finally, because the Fourth Gospel itself emphasizes Jesus’ own words, I devote special attention to Jesus’ words, their authority, and their relationship to Scripture. Chapter Six concludes the project by venturing an informed hypothesis regarding what the author of John may have achieved for his first-century community through his artful, intentional invocation of Scripture.

CHAPTER TWO

SOCIOLOGICAL MODELS Culture has independent causal influence in unsettled cultural periods because it makes possible new strategies of action—constructing entities that can act (selves, families, corporations), shaping the styles and skills with which they act, and modeling forms of authority and cooperation. It is, however, the concrete situations in which these cultural models are enacted that determine which take root and thrive, and which wither and die. Ann Swidler, “Culture in Action”

This chapter offers a model for examining the use of Scripture in sectarian communities. It defines “sectarian,” it states what sects must do to form and maintain themselves successfully, and it contends that Scripture can aid those processes. The remainder of the study addresses the role Scripture plays in that formation and maintenance. Ideally, in launching an investigation into the social function served by Scripture in the communities of Qumran, the Branch Davidians, and the Fourth Gospel, I would immediately appeal to work done in the “sociology of Scripture,” which would present all the ways Scripture could be used by a given group. I might imagine that these “sociologists of Scripture” would have at least studied various kinds of modern Scripture-using groups and found enough correlations to enable them to draw conclusions about how Scripture functions both ostensibly and actually within the various groups. I might even expect to find sociologists who have studied the use of Scripture among pre-modern groups. I would run my eye down the list until I hit upon the sub-category “the use of Scripture among sectarians,” whence I would learn what I might expect of a sect and why. I would then locate the exegetical materials of the Branch Davidian, Johannine, and Qumran communities, keeping that chart close by to see if these groups manifest such tendencies. If so, I would have insight as to why those tendencies obtained given the fact that sects have to meet certain goals to perdure. Such a line of inquiry, how-

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ever, has yet to be systematically undertaken by sociologists of religion. Occasionally a compelling isolated study appears, but it remains at the level of one sermon1 or one congregation.2 To date, then, sociologists have not tackled the subject.3 Students of Christianity have not helped to clarify the subject either. At least since the oft-quoted publication of Meeks’s “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” the sectarian nature of the Johannine community has largely been granted. Likewise, scholars of both the Qumran community and the Branch Davidian community readily designate them as sects. But what exactly marks a community as a sect? One should not be lulled by the ease with which the term is bandied about into thinking that a shared definition of requisite features present to qualify a group as a sect has been used by these various scholars, or even that such a definition exists. With respect to  scholarship as it relates to the present project, I noted previously

1 See Marsha Witten’s work described at the end of this chapter: “The Restriction of Meaning in Religious Discourse: Centripetal Devices in a Fundamentalist Christian Sermon,” in Robert Wuthnow, ed., Vocabularies of Public Life: Empirical Essays in Symbolic Structure (New York: Routledge, 1992), 19–38. 2 See Nancy Ammerman’s Congregation & Community (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1997) and Bible Believers (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1987). 3 Why have sociologists not tackled the subject? I suggest three reasons: a bias against texts, the disrepute of sociology of religion, and especially the disrepute of the sociology of sectarianism. Regarding the second, William Sims Bainbridge claims: In sociology, anthropology, and even psychology, religion was a prime topic for the pioneers of social science. But despite occasional upsurges like the extensive survey research of the 1960s, the sociology of religion has languished in a peripheral status since those pioneers departed. Today, however, this discipline is primed for a renaissance through which it takes its rightful place at the center of social science. . . . After decades of little respect from social scientists in other specialties, and even less support from grant-giving agencies, the sociology of religion is rapidly gaining stature within the intellectual community, because of a renewed recognition of the importance of its theme. Bainbridge, The Sociology of Religious Movements (New York: Routledge, 1997), 27. Bryan Wilson addresses the third: Despite the obvious social importance of movements that not only affect but actually encompass the lives of so many people throughout the world (for today perhaps no societies are sect-less) sectarian studies remain at the fringe of academic disciplines . . . sectarian studies—compared, say, to anthropology—have received neither encouragement nor endorsement: the subject matter is regarded as academically inconsequential, and the subject area is, within the sociology of religion, something of a pariah, whilst the sociology of religion itself has been called a Cinderella within sociology. Bryan R. Wilson, The Social Dimensions of Sectarianism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 5.

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those who have contributed to the present study by their attention to the social realities of the Johannine community, especially J. Louis Martyn, Wayne A. Meeks, and Nils A. Dahl. Two lacunae remain in spite of their work. First, while they have recognized the sectarian nature of the Johannine community, they have not attempted to systematically study how the deployment of Scripture contributes to the maintenance of that sectarian character. Second, and this is a more general problem, scholars studying the  and early Christianity have been less than precise in their use of sectarianism as a concept, and some have even argued that “cult” is a better category. A sampling of Wayne Meeks, Rodney Stark, and Shaye Cohen proves exemplary.

Wayne A. Meeks on Early Christianity Meeks has done us the invaluable service of, inter alia, drawing on sociology to discuss ancient Christian communities, usually with a functionalist approach. Much of his work regarding early Christianity uses the language of sectarianism to describe a community. None of his work on John omits reference to its sectarian nature. In addressing the development of Johannine Christology, for example, Meeks writes: “We have already affirmed with Martyn that the Gospel’s controversies press us to look for the context of its theologizing in the same disputes that constituted the Johannine groups as a separate religious community over against the Jewish communities to which they had belonged ” (my italics).4 Further, What drove the Johannine Christians to make just these connections, in the face of the social pain that it obviously cost them? We must remember that the social pain was but the negative side of the process by which they had become a distinctive community. . . . In this Gospel, “abiding” in the truth about Jesus has positive and negative social dimensions: It entails stalwart “love” for fellow disciples of Jesus and brave separation from those who reject him. The claim that constitutes the identity of this special group of former Jews is that in their abiding in the Son of Man they have been granted what the whole of Israel’s Scripture and tradition—both Jewish and Samaritan versions—pointed to. . . . They alone are Israel. . . . They are epitomized in one of the first of those “given by God” to 4 Wayne A. Meeks, “Equal to God,” in The Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul and John in Honor of J. Louis Martyn (ed. Robert T. Fortna and Beverly R. Gaventa; Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), 309–21, here 316.

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Jesus, Nathanael the élhy«w ÉIsrahl¤thw. Here we have the very model of a sectarian consciousness. To “Pharisees” and to ordinary Jews of all kinds, as the narrative makes clear, these claims did not fulfill but rather subverted the classical Scripture and traditions. These [christological] claims broke the community with other Jews by their audacity, their exclusiveness, and their persistence; they constituted blasphemy. Smarting from the forced separation, the circle of the Beloved Disciple exulted in this subversion, which became the principle literary strategy of the Fourth Evangelist (my italics).5

In addition to using sectarian categories to understand the Fourth Gospel, Meeks also recognizes the importance that Scripture had in that sectarian consciousness when he claims: “While in Philo’s writings we see the Moses traditions being used in a broad Kulturkampf, here in John they are employed in a sectarian controversy. And both sides in this controversy have used the same scripture and similar traditions.”6 The present study seeks to carry Meeks’s work forward by systematically addressing the ways in which Scripture contributes to the maintenance of that sectarian nature. It also attempts to speak more precisely about the sectarian nature of the Fourth Gospel. As Meeks himself acknowledges, “We have now become accustomed to say that earliest Christianity was a sect of Judaism. This is useful language. . . . However, there are some problems with the phrase.”7 For example, one must always remember that Luke and Josephus, who both use the term a·resiw, have apologetic purposes which may color their usage of the term. Furthermore, a·resiw may not be considered synonymous with a modern sociologist’s usage. Finally, modern sociologists do not always agree on the meaning of the term “sect.” In some ways, however, one might wish that Meeks himself had done more to clarify the usage with regard to ancient Christianity. For instance, in his article “Breaking Away: Three New Testament Pictures of Christianity’s Separation from the Jewish Communities,” Meeks claims of the Fourth Gospel, Matthew, and Paul’s letters: “Each of them gives 5

Ibid., 318–19. Wayne Meeks, “The Divine Agent and His Counterfeit in Philo and the Fourth Gospel,” in Aspects of Religious Propaganda in Judaism and Early Christianity (ed. Elizabeth Schussler-Fiorenza; Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1976), 43–67, here 54. 7 Wayne A. Meeks, “Breaking Away: Three New Testament Pictures of Christianity’s Separation from the Jewish Communities,” in “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity (ed. Jacob Neusner and Ernest S. Frerichs; Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1985), 93–115, here 93. 6

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some reason for affirming that Christianity had been a sect of Judaism, but we shall find that each looks back at that connection [i.e., the connection between Christianity and Israel] from a point just after a decisive break has occurred.”8 This use of the term “sect” is somewhat problematic. First, it implies that “a decisive break,” such as having been expelled from synagogues, moves the group to the position of having been a sect, whereas schism with the parent tradition is one feature of sectarianism upon which almost all sociologists of sectarianism agree. Second, the Fourth Gospel and Matthew were clearly forged in communities that identified primarily with some form of Judaism; Paul’s communities, on the other hand, emerged in a world dominated by pluralistic paganism. According to Stark and Bainbridge, those are two very different social phenomena, and they recognize the distinction by designating the first type “sect” and the second “cult.” A sect is a schismatic group that “breaks away” from an existing “parent body,” to use Bainbridge’s language, while a “cult” is a non-schismatic, innovative group that arises in a society or is imported to it from an alien culture.9 The method of emergence, the social composition, and the dynamics of the two kinds of groups generally differ, so that such labels serve as a shorthand for expressing what one should expect from a group. To call both Pauline Christianity and Johannine Christianity sectarian blurs important distinctions between the two, distinctions that Meeks himself highlights: Theologically it is correct to say that the scriptures and traditions of Judaism are a central and ineffaceable part of the Pauline Christians’ identity. Socially, however, the Pauline groups were never a sect of Judaism. They organized their lives independently from the Jewish associations of the cities where they were founded, and apparently, so far as the evidence reveals, they had little or no interaction with the Jews. . . . There is thus a certain paradox about Pauline Christianity. The apostle himself was deeply concerned about the relations between Christianity and “the Israel of God.” Yet he and his associates had created an organized movement that was entirely independent of the Jewish communities in the cities of the northeastern Mediterranean basin. The scriptures and traditions from Judaism played a major part in the beliefs and practices of Pauline Christianity, yet the identity of the Pauline groups was not shaped by having once been within a Jewish context. However much Paul’s own identity may have been 8 9

Ibid., 94. Bainbridge, Sociology, 107.

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formed by the trauma of what we call his conversion, there was no comparable trauma for the communities which he founded. Unlike the Johannine groups, the Pauline congregations were not composed of people who had become aposynagogoi.10

In “A Hermeneutics of Social Embodiment,” Meeks makes an uncharacteristically general proclamation: “It is time that we took seriously the well-known fact that most of the New Testament documents, including the Pauline Epistles . . . were immediately addressed to . . . what a sociologist could only call the institutionalization of the new sect” (my italics).11 By “the new sect” it would appear that Meeks uses the term so broadly as to include Christianity as a whole and, if not, at least broadly enough to include all of Pauline Christianity. But “the Pauline Epistles,” as he himself has spent a lifetime proving, certainly do not attest to a uniformity among the communities that would warrant speaking of “the” new sect. Since “sects,” as social communities rather than an esoteric set of ideas, can only be designated as such vis-à-vis their own environs, to label all Pauline Epistles as evidence of the institutionalization of a single sect obliterates the differences evident in different Pauline groups vis-à-vis their social surroundings. What is wanted, then, is a way of speaking about the various  communities that takes their social location into account but allows for nuanced distinctions among the various forms of Christianity reflected in the . If successful, the present project will add to what Meeks has begun by attending more systematically both to the function of Scripture in a social group and to the way sects operate, in hopes of discovering how the text and the group shape one another.

Rodney Stark on Early Christianity As a direct result of reading Meeks’s The First Urban Christians, Rodney Stark was inspired to undertake a sociological analysis to explain the apparently explosive rise of Christianity using “hard science,” or as close to it as one can come in the social sciences. While it has much to recommend it, the study lacks nuance. Where Meeks sees a sect, Stark sees a cult. He combines all of “early Christianity” as reflected 10

Meeks, “Breaking Away,” 106–8. Wayne A. Meeks, “A Hermeneutics of Social Embodiment,” in Christians Among Jews and Gentiles (ed. George W. E. Nickelsburg and George W. MacRae; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 176–186, here 185. 11

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in the  and identifies it as a “cult” in contrast to a “sect,” offering the following definitions of each: sect movements “occur by schism within a conventional religious body when persons desiring a more otherworldly version of the faith break away to ‘restore’ the religion to a higher level of tension with its environment. . . . Cult movements, on the other hand, are not simply new organizations of an old faith; they are new faiths, at least new in the society being examined.”12 In identifying what he calls “early Christianity” as a cult, he writes: During his ministry, Jesus seems to have been the leader of a sect movement within Judaism. Indeed, even in the immediate aftermath of the Crucifixion, there was little to separate the disciples from their fellow Jews. However, on the morning of the third day something happened that turned the Christian sect into a cult movement. Christians believe that on that day Jesus arose from the dead and during the next forty days appeared repeatedly to various groups of his followers. It is unnecessary to believe in the Resurrection to see that because the apostles believed in it, they were no longer just another Jewish sect. Although it took time for the fact to be recognized fully (in part because of the immense diversity of Judaism in this era), beginning with the Resurrection Christians were participants in a new religion, one that added far too much new culture to Judaism to be any longer an internal sect movement.13

There are a number of problems with Stark’s argument. First, the resurrection serves as his dividing line between sect and cult. On what basis does he make this decision? Notions of resurrection are not alien to Judaism,14 and the Fourth Gospel points to the claim of Jesus’ being “equal to God” as the primary problem rather than resurrection. Second, if Stark were to attend to the primary evidence of the early Christian groups, he would find that many, if not most, certainly do not see themselves as something “other” than a true, purified, restored, “fulfilled” Judaism. According to emic categories, Christianity would, then, constitute a sect. Stark, however, operates from an etic position whose conclusions contradict those of the groups themselves.15 12 Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 33. 13 Ibid., 44. 14 See George W. E. Nickelsburg’s work: Resurrection, Immortality and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972). 15 In contrast with the approach evidenced by Weber (as quoted in Bainbridge, Sociology, 71) when he notes, “Methodism, which first arose in the middle of the eighteenth century within the Established Church of England, was not, in the minds of its founders, intended to form a new Church, but only a new awakening of the

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And what counts as “culture” for Stark? To argue effectively that Christianity added “far too much new culture to Judaism to be any longer an internal sect movement” would require Stark to identify what constituted essential Jewish culture, what constituted essential Christian culture, and to show that Christianities shared little with Judaisms. At present, his essential Judaism seems to consist of a “nonresurrectionist” theology and Christianity seems to consist primarily of a doctrine of “resurrection.” All of the various  communities depict their groups as aligned with Scripture, a primary cultural element shared by all Jewish groups and all Christian groups.16 Third, Stark eliminates all but Pauline Christianity from his characterization of the early church as a cult movement: “Moreover, whatever the relationship between Christianity and Judaism, when historians speak of the early church, they do not mean the church in Jerusalem but the Pauline church—for this is the church that triumphed and changed history.”17 In his effort to perform a sweeping study of four centuries of Christianity in two hundred pages, he has sacrificed the specifics manifested in the other (i.e., non-Pauline)  texts, such as the one under study in this investigation.18 ascetic spirit within the old. Only in the course of its development, especially in its extension to America, did it become separate from the Anglican Church” (my italics). As we will see when addressing the Qumran community, the Fourth Gospel, and the evidence provided by the Johannine Epistles, such an emic description pertains there as well. 16 Wuthnow’s observation more closely approximates the situation found in the Fourth Gospel: “Congregations . . . are in business not to invent the sacred but to encourage people to discover it. . . . The God that people in most congregations attempt to discover is assumed to be a being described in the books these congregations provide in their pews, a being who likes to hear people sing certain songs that have been part of traditional worship services for years and years, and one who tolerates (perhaps even appreciates) people trying to address him or her (usually him) with certain formulaic prayers. What earns other groups the designation of cult is that they are not content to abide by these norms; instead of discovering the sacred, they many even try to invent it.” Wuthnow, Producing the Sacred: An Essay on Public Religion (Urbana, Ill.: University of Illinois Press, 1994), 53. As we will see in the Fourth Gospel, John does not imagine that he is inventing something new; rather he argues that if one understood the Scriptures, one would see and discover the truth as promulgated by his Jesus. 17 Stark, The Rise, 45. 18 As he admits, Stark has a vested interest in defining this so-called “early Christianity” as a cult: “Finally, what difference does it make whether early Christianity was a movement of the relatively privileged [i.e. “cult”] or of the down-trodden [i.e. “sect”]? In my judgment it matters a great deal.” The Rise, 46. His reasoning goes as follows: sects overrecruit from the less privileged, whereas cults overrecruit from the more privileged. If early Christianity had been a sectarian movement, it would have constituted what Stark designates anachronistically a “proletarian move-

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Meeks designates Pauline Christianity “what a sociologist could only call the institutionalization of the new sect”;19 Stark designates it a cult.20 Meeks designates Johannine Christianity a sect; Stark ignores it.

Shaye Cohen on Second Temple Judaism Scholars of ancient Judaism also invoke the sociological language of sects, as does Shaye Cohen when he devotes considerable attention to what he calls “Sectarian and Normative” in a book on Second Temple Judaism.21 At the outset of the chapter he aims to define “sect,” “orthodoxy,” “heresy,” and “normative.” He defines a sect as “a small, organized group that separates itself from a larger religious body and asserts that it alone embodies the ideals of the larger group because it alone understands God’s will.”22 He then makes at least two claims regarding his definition: (1) he has derived the definition from the sociology of medieval and modern Christianity, and (2) his is a minimalist definition with which all students of sectarianism would agree. But the very fact that he has used constructs derived from medieval and modern Christianity precludes any sophisticated student of sectarianism from agreeing with his minimal definition. He still operates under Troeltschian and Niebuhrian assumptions (such as, “If a sect grows to the extent that it is a large body in its own right, it is no longer a sect but a ‘religion’ or ‘church’ ”),23 assumptions which are outdated (see “history of church and sect” section of this chapter) and anachronistic24 insofar as he applies notions of modern Christian “church” to ancient Judaism. While it is not within the scope of this presentation to relate all of the details of his schema, ment,” and would have been rooted out by mighty Rome as a political threat. Since Rome largely seems to have ignored the movement it makes sense that the movement must have had friends in high places, which protected it from destruction, thus contributing to his interest in explaining “the rise of Christianity.” 19 Meeks, “A Hermeneutics,” 185. 20 For another (early) attempt to apply the sociology of sectarianism to early Christianity, see Robin Scroggs, “The Earliest Christian Communities as Sectarian Movement,” in Christianity, Judaism, and Other Greco-Roman Cults: Studies for Morton Smith at Sixty (ed. Jacob Neusner; Leiden: Brill, 1975), 2:1–23. 21 Shaye Cohen, From the Maccabees to the Mishnah (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1987), 124–73. 22 Ibid., 125. 23 Ibid. 24 Indeed, all “church-sect” discussions are anachronistic insofar as there was no institution quite like a “church” before Constantine.

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its lack of nuance is exemplified by a statement such as this: “In the period under review in this book two Jewish sects (or sect-like groups) outgrew their sectarian origins to become independent religions.25 Out of the Christian sect came Christianity, and out of the Pharisaic sect came rabbinic Judaism, also known simply as ‘Judaism.’ ”26 Using these modern Christian models he describes the nature of Jewish sectarianism in the Second Temple period. At the outset of the chapter he identifies four Jewish sects: the Pharisees, the Christians, the Samaritans, and the Qumranians. He makes a point of differentiating his definition of “sect” (a modern sociological construct) from Josephus’ a·resiw (“schools of thought” rather than sociological groups). He identifies three focal points of Jewish sects: the Law, the temple, Scripture. A number of problems arise in Cohen’s presentation. First, though he originally distinguishes his use of sect from Josephus’, he goes on to consider all of those groups presented by Josephus, sometimes deciding they are sects, sometimes not, sometimes indicating paucity of sources. Second, he is inconsistent in his analyses of the groups he initially identifies as sectarian. He confidently denotes the Pharisees as a sect, though later in the chapter he admits, “None of the ancient sources views the Pharisees as a sect, and there is no sign that the Pharisees of the first century had that exclusivistic ideology, strict organization, and group-oriented eschatology which characterize sects.”27 His treatment of Christianity is problematic. First, when he makes a statement such as “Those Jews who do not accept Christ are sinners. If this is not a sectarian perspective, it certainly is very close to it,”28 he clearly moves away from his own definition of what constitutes a sect. Second, in the end, even based on his own “minimal definition” of Christianity, he cannot decide whether or not it 25 His notions regarding religion may also be overdetermined by modern institutions. One way we should not think about sects is as a group “separating from the parent religion” as such a notion might imply anachronistic features such as established, normative traditions, creeds, states, and a pluralism quite unlike that of modern American society, not to mention that even “religion” as construed in modern academic theories is a notion that would have been foreign to antiquity. Furthermore, though we are accustomed to think of sects as “breaking away” we should be careful to recognize that often the groups studied in this work understand (or least posture) themselves as reformers of the parent tradition or even as the legitimate representation of the “purified” or “true” tradition and do not, in fact, see themselves as “breaking away.” 26 Cohen, Maccabees to Mishnah, 126. 27 Ibid., 162. 28 Ibid., 168.

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constitutes a sect: “These distinctive and peculiar practices [baptism, Eucharist, speaking in tongues], more than the distinctive and peculiar theology on which the practices were based, made Christianity a ‘sect’ or, at least, a separate group within Jewish society.”29 When addressing the Therapeutae, Cohen proclaims that Jewish sectarianism was a phenomenon restricted to the mother country. Alienation from the temple and the priests was required if sectarianism was to have a focus, and outside the land of Israel that focus did not exist, because all Jews were equally distant from the holy land and from contact with the sacred. All the sources that speak about the Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, and other sects, place them exclusively (except for occasional refugees from war or persecution) in the land of Israel, for the most part in Judea.30

Cohen limits his discussion of sectarianism to Jewish sects of the first century, so there are no “controls” in his study regarding the behavior of sects in general. If, for example, when I study the Branch Davidians I find that the sect was established or maintained at a geographical distance from the parent tradition, I will have to conclude either that Cohen is wrong from a sociological point of view in insisting that Jewish sectarianism could only have existed in Palestine or that Cohen is correct but only because Judaism itself was structured such that it provides an exception to the general rule.31 That is to say, first-century Jewish sects may be exceptional because, unlike the Branch Davidian sect, for example, Jews in the first century defined the sacred in terms of a temple and a Holy Land. Had he used a comparative approach Cohen’s arguments might be more persuasive.

A New Proposal A fresh approach is needed. This chapter will present a theoretical framework for the investigation. There is some consensus among social scientists that a group like the three I am examining, in empir29

Ibid. Ibid., 171. 31 Cohen’s insistence that Jewish sectarianism required alienation from the temple and the priests, coupled with his claim that such a requirement did not obtain “outside the land of Israel,” implies that he negates the possibility of a sect outside of Israel. The implication is further corroborated by his statement that, though the Therapeutae may look like an exception to his rule, there is “no hint in Philo of any sectarian self-definition.” Ibid. 30

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ically verified instances, tends to employ a certain range of strategies for establishing and maintaining its identity as a group. This project heavily employs William Bainbridge’s approach to sects and cults. Bainbridge recognizes some basic tendencies that inhere in groups one might call sectarian. First, sects tend to arise from a schism between an established parent tradition and the smaller group. Second, sects tend to represent “an intense form of a standard religious tradition.”32 Bainbridge is quick to note that while these tendencies appear, they do not always inhere together. Rather than attempting to define the essential characteristics of a “sect,” Bainbridge operates with a model that estimates “degrees of tension” between a group and its environment.33 Those considered “sectarian” are on the high-tension end of the continuum. Bainbridge places his own work in the context of the history of scholarship as follows: Traditional church-sect theory postulates a system of religious institutions and movements, in which an ecclesia (or established church) has formed an alliance with the powerful members of a society, and small dissenting sects break away in social opposition and religious fervor. These sectarian movements tend to attract poor and uneducated converts, in contrast to the ecclesia which comprises the rich and educated. Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, sociologists tended to construct complex descriptions of an ecclesia and of sects that listed a number of attributes of each. But many examples did not fit these typologies at all well. Following the ideas of sociologist Benton Johnson, expressed early in the second half of the century, it is useful to arrange religious groups along a dimension of their degree of tension with the surrounding sociocultural environment.34

Whether or not a group will maintain its original level of tension, increase it, or decrease it depends on a number of factors. Bainbridge suggests the following as those that decrease tension: 1. Birth of a new generation of members who must be raised in the religion rather than converted to it. 2. Improvement in the economic level of members due to the ascetic values or other features of the sect. 3. Sociocultural assimilation of the ethnic group to which members belong.

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Bainbridge, Sociology, 24. For a brief history of the “church-sect” and “cult-sect” debates, see the Excursus at the conclusion of the chapter. 34 Bainbridge, Sociology, 59. 33

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4. Increase in the number of members, bringing the sect out of minority status. 5. Development of a stable leadership structure, which builds a bureaucracy and emphasizes the needs of the bureaucratic leaders. 6. Random processes, including regression toward the mean, that tend to reduce the deviance of individuals or groups.

As parallels, Bainbridge offers the following as factors that maintain or increase tension: 1. A high level of recruitment of new members, which emphasizes their needs rather than those of members born into the group. 2. Failure of members to rise in the surrounding socioeconomic system, perhaps due to widespread economic depression and social chaos. 3. Rejection of members by powerful groups in society because they belong to a suppressed ethnic group. 4. Failure of a conversionist group to grow causes members to stress specific compensators in lieu of worldly evidence of success. 5. A sequence of charismatic leaders stages numerous revivals that pump up the tension. 6. Holy scriptures or other well-established traditions that anchor the group near a particular level of tension.35

In all of my research, this is the only place in which a sociologist of religion noted that the use of Scripture may serve a significant social function for sects. Bainbridge’s explanation for inclusion of this category is worth quoting in full: It may not be immediately obvious why holy scriptures, the last of the factors preventing tension reduction, has anything to do with random processes, the last of the factors promoting reduction. The link is found in the mathematical theory of random processes, specifically in the concept of absorbing state. In random processes, an absorbing state is a situation that it is easy to get into but difficult to get out of. This is a very useful concept, but unfortunately is not a very familiar one. Therefore, we need a humble example. Imagine a marble rolling around in the bottom of a bathtub. Almost any place on the bottom of the tub, a slight push makes the marble move a considerable distance. However, if the marble falls into the drain, it is stuck there forever. The drain is an absorbing state. There are several absorbing states in the sociology of religion. A religious seeker sets out on a quest to find a suitable religion to join; when he or she actually joins one, it is an absorbing state for the quest, and the person may stay in it forever. The afterlife is another 35

Ibid., 79.

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absorbing state, from which few if any people return. A successful religious movement typically goes through a formative period, when it develops its distinctive doctrine and practices. If it writes these down into sacred books, or enshrines them in inflexible structures of social roles, then it will be unlikely to change them, short of a major internal revolution. Thus, fixed scriptures are an absorbing state that can prevent random movement away from high tension. The most prominent example, of course is the great power of the New Testament to serve as the launch pad for an endless barrage of high-tension religious movements that seek to fulfill its world-transcending promise.36

Apart from this, Bainbridge ignores the function of Scripture within sectarian groups. It is important to highlight that, in contending for dominance, sects often war on two fronts: one with the parent tradition and the other with the larger secular culture. In the Qumran texts, one finds opposition both to the dominant religious tradition (i.e., temple-based, priestly Judaism) and to the larger non-Jewish culture designated “gentiles,” especially Romans. The Branch Davidian texts depict opposition both to the dominant religious tradition from which the sect separated, Seventh-Day Adventism, and to the larger secular culture designated as “the world.” The Fourth Gospel vehemently opposes its parent tradition; the degree to which it opposes the larger non-Jewish culture will be treated later. It is now appropriate to present from the start a summary of the factors involved in the formation and maintenance of a sectarian group. Sects are engaged in the production of culture, a production in which Scripture plays a key role and which is fundamentally shaped by the need to distinguish the sectarian culture from various external cultures, especially a parent tradition. The following is a general outline of what the creation and maintenance of a sectarian culture entails, but the present project concentrates throughout on the role of Scripture in the process. Thus, the outline provides a taxonomy for understanding how scripture could function in each of the three examined groups. The remainder of this chapter will explain the inclusion of the various categories by drawing upon the work of sociologists. At the broadest level, this investigation inquires after what sociologists call “the production of culture.”

36

Ibid., 82–83.

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Charting Results How Scripture Can Function Within Sects A. BREAKING AWAY: CREATING AND DEGRADING “THEM” B. FORMATION OF SECT 1. Etiology: celebrate origins of the community; ground community in the past 2. Show sect’s founder to have special insight regarding Scripture 3. Defining and elevating “us” C. CREATING A DISTINCT WAY OF LIFE 1. 2. 3. 4.

Ethical behavior Ritual practice Language and rhetoric Use of sacred texts a. The sectarian community as Scripture’s telos b. Scripture is authoritative and validates sect’s views 5. Roles of authoritative leaders Leader is righteous, chosen, or otherwise admirable; leader is unjustly persecuted; leader is privy to special insight; leader warrants fidelity and belief—salvation depends on one’s stance vis-à-vis him or her 6. Definition of the future D. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM THE PARENT TRADITION 1. Named opponents 2. Those who break Scripture E. OPPOSITION FROM WITHIN THE SECT: DEALING WITH DEFECTION 1. Reward adherence to the sect 2. Castigate potential and actual deserters F. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM WITHOUT G. JUDGMENT AGAINST OPPONENTS H. GROWING THE SECT 1. Proselytizing 2. The next generation

The Production of Culture As a subfield in the discipline of sociology, cultural analysis has not experienced smooth development. Scholars have not agreed on the definition of culture, the methods appropriate for studying culture,

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or even whether the subfield belongs to sociology rather than history or political science. In spite of the disparities, it is possible to detect four basic approaches to cultural analysis, according to sociologist Robert Wuthnow.37 The subjective approach views culture in terms of beliefs, attitudes, opinions, and values. The focus remains on the individual, her ideas, moods, motivations, and goals, and depends largely on participant observation and personal interview. This approach prevails in the social sciences.38 The structural approach attends to patterns and relationships among cultural elements. The focus is less on the subjective states of the individual and more on culture as an objectified phenomenon. “Its task is conceived of as identifying orderly relations and rules—structures—that give culture coherence and identity,”39 and the approach typically appears in the work of structuralists and post-structuralists. The institutional approach is marked by interest in how culture is related to actors, resources, and institutions which distribute those resources. This approach recognizes that culture “is produced by actors who have special competencies and is perpetuated by organizations that in a sense process resources for the purpose of ritualizing, codifying, and transmitting cultural products. These organizations in turn are likely to develop relations with the state and other sources of power and may also be challenged by movements with access to other pools of social resources.”40 The final approach, and the one into which the present study best fits, is the dramaturgic approach. 37 Robert Wuthnow delineates these four in Meaning and Moral Order: Explorations in Cultural Analysis (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 10–17. He devotes the remaining chapters of the work to an application of each of the approaches and concludes by noting the strengths and weaknesses of each. 38 The traditional view of how culture shapes action championed most prominently by Max Weber and Talcott Parsons places “values” at the center of the equation. Simply put, culture imparts values to an individual and the individual then chooses actions that will achieve the end dictated by that value. So, in his work, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, Weber argues that the Calvinist doctrine of predestination engendered a drive to prove that one enjoyed a place among the elect which manifested itself in the mundane context of worldly affairs, especially in the forms of asceticism, rigorous self-examination, and discipline. A second example of the “values” approach is provided by the studies and debates on the “culture of poverty,” which seek to explain why the poor do not take advantage of opportunities to get out of the culture of poverty; briefly stated, they conclude that the poor do not have the same values as the middle or upper classes. Ann Swidler, “Culture in Action: Symbols and Strategies,” American Sociological Review 51 (1986): 275. 39 Wuthnow, Meaning, 12. 40 Ibid., 15.

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The dramaturgic approach focuses on the expressive or communicative properties of culture. Rather than being conceived of as a purely (or largely) autonomous entity, culture is now approached in interaction with social structure. Unlike in the subjective approach, culture is said to interact with social structure not as a feature of individual feeling and experience but as an expressive dimension of social relations. Ideology, for example, is pictured as a set of symbols that articulates how social relations should be arranged. More generally, culture becomes identifiable as the symbolic-expressive dimension of social structure. It communicates information about morally binding obligations and is in turn influenced by the structure of these obligations. This approach is like the structural approach in that culture is defined in a way that makes it more observable than in the subjective approach. Rather than consisting of subjective beliefs and attitudes, it consists of utterances, acts, objects and events—all of which are observable, even behavioral in a sense. The relations or patterns among these elements remain important, as in the structural approach. But these relations are no longer examined strictly by themselves; they are now examined in conjunction with ideas about the ordering of social life. Of particular importance is the idea that social life requires a dimension of moral order, that is, a set of definitions about what is proper to do and what is reasonable to expect. The term “dramaturgic” is used to describe this approach because of its emphasis on the capacity of rituals, ideologies, and other symbolic acts to dramatize the nature of social relations [cf. Garfinkel below]. It is in these dramatizations that definitions of the situations are communicated. In saying that culture is symbolic-expressive, therefore, this approach tends to focus less on information that is simply and straightforwardly transmitted than on messages that may be implicit in the ways in which social life is arranged, in rituals, and in the choice of words in discourse. Put simply, what is “given off ” may be as important as what is “given.”41

In the Fourth Gospel, one is dealing with culture in at least two forms: both the narrative and its use of Scripture manifest the “expressive or communicative properties of culture” and both lend themselves to inquiry concerning the interaction between culture and social structure. Ideology in the Fourth Gospel serves not simply to supply an individual with a set of esoteric ideas (as in the subjective approach), but to symbolize and articulate how social relations should be arranged. When Wayne A. Meeks discovers that the motif of Jesus as a stranger to this world both calls the community to persevere under persecu41

Ibid., 13–14.

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tion and comforts the community by showing its identity with Jesus,42 he approximates Wuthnow’s observation that the idea that “social life requires a dimension of moral order, that is, a set of definitions about what is proper to do and what is reasonable to expect,” is extremely important. It is also the case that when Meeks looks beyond the explicit to the implicit messages in the Fourth Gospel, when he looks beyond what the text says about the Man from Heaven to how the text functions, he approximates Wuthnow’s observation that, “In saying that culture is symbolic-expressive, therefore, this approach tends to focus less on information that is simply and straightforwardly transmitted than on messages that may be implicit in the ways in which social life is arranged, in rituals, and in the choice of words in discourse. Put simply, what is ‘given off ’ may be as important as what is ‘given.’ ”43 The insistence upon the importance of the interaction between culture and social structure requires more attention. The present study defines culture in a Geertzian fashion, as “the publicly available symbolic forms through which people experience and express meaning.”44 Geertz’s definition may be augmented by denoting such various symbolic transmitters of meaning as “beliefs, ritual practices, art forms, and ceremonies, as well as informal cultural practices such as language, gossip, stories and rituals of daily life.”45 “Scripture” comprises an egregious omission and, of course, must be added. Ann Swidler’s understanding of how culture functions, namely, as “a repertoire or ‘tool kit’ of habits, skills, and styles from which people construct ‘strategies of action,’ ”46 is quite useful and allows for the complexity of the relationship among social conditions, ideas, and ethos. People are born into a culture not of their own choosing which shapes their identity and behavior. But what happens when a group rejects or is rejected by that community and decides to construct a counterculture, as we see in the groups selected for this study? How do they overcome the separation and invent an identity? They can solve the first problem by building a myth in which the opponents 42

Meeks, “Man from Heaven.” Wuthnow, Meaning, 14. 44 As quoted by Swidler, “Culture,” 273. Wuthnow (Meaning, 4) offers a similar definition of culture as “the symbolic-expressive aspect of social behavior.” 45 Swidler, “Culture,” 273. 46 Ibid. 43

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become “totally other.” The second task demands much more. Now they have to adopt and invent culture, actions, habits; they must imbue them with meaning and instruct others accordingly until they reach a point where people act upon a shared set of assumptions. They must once again set boundaries, markers that indicate whether one is in or out. In order to comprehend the process of breaking away, one must understand how groups form in the first place. To understand a group’s boundaries, one must analyze its culture. In order for a group to function, its members must generally share the same habits and customs without constantly defining them. For example, in America all drivers know that a red light means stop and a green light means go—drivers do not think about why this is so each time they must negotiate a traffic light, nor do they inquire of the other drivers whether or not they too understand that red means stop and green means go. Each assumes that the other will act within the established limits of their culture. Shared assumptions mark a group. In crafting his message for a group of Christians, John intends to shape at least their beliefs and probably their practices as well. Scripture serves John as one tool in constructing his Gospel. In the end, John uses the sacred to produce the sacred; he uses a cultural tool to create a cultural tool. To make such a statement is to draw attention to the fact that culture is produced. It involves producers (e.g., artists, preachers, and authors), products (e.g., works of art and sermons), and consumers (e.g., viewers, readers, or listeners). Other factors involved in the production of culture include: the immediate audience, whether an individual or a community;47 the larger audience, defined as those to whom the immediate audience might relate the contents of the work as well as those who might take an interest in the work for some reason or another;48 the resources available to the preacher; and the host environment. Furthermore, the production of culture is a process. 47 The Gospels highlight the role played by individuals and communities in producing the sacred. First, we have the Gospels because individuals or communities saw fit to preserve Jesus’ traditions, which allowed the Gospel writers to compose narratives and thereby pass on those traditions. Second, we continue to have the Gospels because individuals or communities saw fit to preserve them. 48 “The sermon is likely to have the assembled audience in mind as its primary public, yet it is also likely to treat this audience not as a unitary entity but as a series of subgroups whose boundaries may spill over to a much wider public: those of you who are educated, those of you who are feeling depressed, those of you who are uncertain what to believe.” Wuthnow, Producing, 55.

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The history of sociological analysis regarding the production of culture can be traced from the time when culture was largely viewed as “a set of preexisting assumptions, widely shared and long enduring, that provided tacit explanations for why societies prospered or failed and that guided behavior into various channels”49 to a more recent period in which sociologists have proven that culture, at least in the form of music, art, and museums, is produced rather than inevitable. By Wuthnow’s own admission, “the cultural production perspective has thus progressed far more in studies of other kinds of culture, such as art, literature, and political ideology, than in applications to the understanding of religion.”50 Scripture has enjoyed no attention in this regard. It is not the case, then, that inculcators of culture transmit a systematic set of values whereby each member of the community then chooses each action she undertakes in order to achieve a certain end; the picture is much more complex than that.51 Cultures are not monolithic systems but admit diverse, even conflicting elements from which members are free to choose in undertaking an action. Most useful for our inquiry into the interaction between culture and social structures is Ann Swidler’s analysis of cultural influences

49

Ibid., 23. Ibid., 24. 51 Bainbridge critiques traditional views of values in a chapter entitled “Morality” in Sociology, 269–99. Having presented one of the traditional views in which “values” comprise “the legitimate goals of human action, enshrined as the central axioms of a culture and inculcated into the society’s members through socialization,” he goes on to variously dispute such a notion. First, such a view assumes a highly unified society; second, it favors abstraction over concreteness, and empirical sociologists tend toward the latter, looking to a person’s socioeconomic status or “location in a social network.” Finally, it assumes that people “practice what they preach,” so to speak, but sociologists are not convinced that such is the case. “Once upon a time, sociologists used to explain behavior as the natural expression of an individual’s attitudes, but then researchers found many instances in which words and deeds diverge, and verbally expressed attitudes no longer seemed so sociologically relevant. Attitudes and values may be important, but it was no longer appropriate for sociologists to assume so without direct evidence in the particular situation under study, and it often proved difficult to measure their influence in particular studies” (282). Unlike Swidler’s, however, his constructive work regarding culture, norms, and values is less nuanced and compelling. In short, culture comprises “the accumulated set of explanations a society possesses on how to obtain particular rewards and avoid costs. . . . Norms are simply specific explanations having to do with social situations, and values are general explanations having to do with social situations” (284). He goes on to say that in seeking to formulate these so-called “explanations,” most arose first in the area of religion simply because they did not depend on empirical proof, which leads him to this proclamation: “Thus, values, to the extent that this concept means anything at all, are likely to be religious in nature” (285). 50

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in two different situations, which she refers to as “settled lives” and “unsettled lives.” In settled lives, culture and action reinforce one another, whereas in unsettled lives culture serves to create new strategies of action.52 In “settled lives,” culture and action are not so tightly bound because there is no heightened need for intentionality. The culture in which settled people live is “given” and requires little thought, though it does require some choice because established cultures can tolerate diversity in a way that ideological movements cannot. Hence, in settled lives, there are “gaps between the explicit norms, world-views, and rules of conduct individuals espouse and the ways they habitually act.”53 This does not generally constitute a problem, however, because people “know” how to act within the culture. Unlike unsettled cultures, it is more difficult to analyze the relationship between culture and social structure in settled lives because the two are so intertwined. In settled cultures, “ideology . . . has gone underground, so pervading ordinary experience as to blend imperceptibly into common-sense assumptions about what is true.”54 Nevertheless, Swidler distinguishes how culture influences settled lives: [S]ettled cultures constrain action by providing a limited set of resources out of which individuals and groups construct strategies of action. There is nonetheless a distinctive kind of cultural explanation appropriate to settled cultures. First, while such cultures provide a “tool kit” of resources from which people can construct diverse strategies of action, to construct such a strategy means selecting certain structural elements (both such tacit culture as attitudes and styles and, sometimes, such explicit cultural materials as rituals and beliefs) and investing them with particular meanings in concrete life circumstances.55

She gives as an example young adults who attend church once they are married and have children and, in turn, find religious feelings Two points must be made here: first, “unsettled lives” may refer to individuals or groups; second, the distinction between culture’s role in maintaining strategies of action or creating new ones should not be seen in completely dichotomous terms because, admittedly, “even the most fanatical ideological movement, which seeks to remake completely the cultural capacities of its members, will inevitably draw on many tacit assumptions from the existing culture” (Swidler, “Culture,” 278), a point worth remembering as we undertake an investigation of the use of Scripture among groups who stand against a dominant cultural form (so, the Qumranians deny the validity of other Jewish groups; the Fourth Gospel community denies the validity of “the Jews,” and the Branch Davidians deny the validity of any groups outside the BD who call themselves “Christian”). 53 Swidler, “Culture” 280. 54 Ibid., 281. 55 Ibid. 52

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re-evoked. In such a case, culture does not cause their choice to attend in that both the cultural elements and the life strategy are chosen simultaneously. But culture does serve an influential role insofar as the “ability to put together such a strategy depends on the available set of cultural resources. Furthermore, as certain cultural resources become more central in a given life and become more fully invested with meaning, they anchor the strategies of action people have developed.”56 In unsettled periods, “ideologies—explicit, articulated, highly organized meaning systems (both political and religious)—establish new styles or strategies of action. When people are learning new ways of organizing individual and collective action, practicing unfamiliar habits until they become familiar, then doctrine, symbol, and ritual directly shape action.”57 These groups do not tolerate the ambiguities, multiplicities and even profound inconsistencies which “settled lives” do; rather, they provide an overarching, coherent answer to the question of “how human beings should live. In conflict with other cultural models, these cultures are coherent because they must battle to dominate the world-views, assumptions, and habits of their members.”58 Sects seek to dominate the worldview of their members, and those studied here rely heavily on the invocation and interpretation of Scripture to effect it. Indeed, I propose that the function of every direct quotation from or allusion to Scripture is the production of a worldview. While these cultures do exert a causal power, it is not complete at least at their origins because “much of their taken-forgranted understanding of the world and many of their daily practices still depend on traditional patterns.”59 This is true for all of the groups studied here, the traditional patterns emanating from Judaism in the cases of Qumran and the Fourth Gospel, and from SeventhDay Adventism for the Branch Davidians. The position and influence of Scripture comprises part of those “traditional patterns.” The notion of “unsettled lives” plays a central role in understanding the groups under scrutiny in this work, so it is worth citing Swidler’s brief summary of the discussion of “unsettled lives”: Culture has independent causal influence in unsettled cultural periods because it makes possible new strategies of action—constructing entities 56 57 58 59

Ibid. Ibid., 278. Ibid., 279. Ibid.

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that can act (selves, families, corporations), shaping the styles and skills with which they act, and modeling forms of authority and cooperation. It is, however, the concrete situations in which these cultural models are enacted that determine which take root and thrive, and which wither and die.60

Sects represent an unsettled period; therefore, one should expect Scripture, as a vehicle of culture, to play a prominent role in the establishment of new strategies of action. Additionally, if we assume that sects exemplify “unsettled lives,” perhaps we can reasonably speculate that they actually practice what they preach, that their actions correlate with their beliefs. The construction of new systems generally moves from ideology to tradition to common sense, with ideology constituting an articulated, deliberate belief system, tradition referring to beliefs and practices which are simply taken for granted, and common sense comprising beliefs so assumed that they seem natural and inevitable enough that they evoke little, if any, conscious reflection.61 Groups struggling to establish themselves, especially when vying for a position of dominance, tend toward the ideological; the expectations concerning belief and action are usually explicit, demanding, and rigid. The new ideology often conflicts with tradition and common sense in its effort to construct a new cultural model, which will provide the tools for new “strategies of action.” Such is the case with sects, which, by definition, conflict with tradition and attempt to compose a new cultural model. The ways in which the Qumran, Fourth Gospel, and Branch Davidian communities conflict with the tradition and common sense of their larger culture are manifold and are discussed in the individual chapters devoted to each, but they include at least the interpretation of Scripture, ritual practices, and ethics. A group’s acute ideological phase can be described as follows: Bursts of ideological activism occur in periods when competing ways of organizing action are developing or contending for dominance. People formulate, flesh out, and put into practice new habits of action. In such situations, culture may indeed be said to directly shape action. Members of a religious cult wear orange, or share their property . . . because their beliefs tell them to. . . . During such periods, differences in ritual practice or doctrine may become highly charged, so that stat60 61

Ibid., 280. Ibid., 279.

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uary in churches . . ., the clothing and preaching style of ministers . . . are fraught with significance. Ritual acquires such significance in unsettled lives because ritual changes reorganize taken-for-granted habits and modes of experience.62

To understand how culture works in a high-ideology period one must attend to the larger context. While such groups offer new strategies of action and patterns of organizing people, they “are in active competition with other cultural frameworks—at the least in competition with common sense and usually with alternative traditions and ideologies as well.”63 To explain why one ideology is victorious requires analysis of “the structural constraints and historical circumstances within which ideological movements struggle for dominance.”64 Attention to the placement of a community within a host environment is essential. Wuthnow contends that we should think of religious groups as competing with one another and he identifies three probable dynamics among them. First is the phenomenon of “selective adaptation,” defined as “the process whereby organizations in competition with one another succeed in extracting resources from their host environment, with the result that over time some organizations cease to exist, while others take over a disproportionate share of the available resources.”65 This largely has to do with the notion of “fit” between the host environment and the group. Isomorphism, the second feature, involves the competing organizations coming to resemble one another at least enough to ensure their securing some part of the available resources. Finally, specialization allows each group to assert its distinctiveness. I present these three features not to suggest that one can impose a modern market economy model onto the first century, but to enunciate the fact that the social environment in which a group resides and functions and in which a preacher or artist produces his or her work must be considered as crucial to understanding the dynamics at work between the lone producer, the 62

Ibid., 279. Ibid., 280. Similarly, John A. Hostetler notes: “A sectarian movement must establish an ideology different from that of the parent group in order to break off relations with it. A sect must establish cultural separatism, involving symbolic and often material as well as ideological differences, from those of the parent group.” John A. Hostetler, Amish Society (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1968), 35–36; quoted in Bainbridge, Sociology, 264. 64 Swidler, “Culture,” 280. 65 Wuthnow, Producing, 30. 63

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group that she seeks to affect, and the wider community. In words similar to those expressed by Swidler at the heading of this chapter, Wuthnow writes: In combination these three processes—selective adaptation, isomorphism, and specialization—help us see that the products generated by any particular organization are not merely the result of random efforts by talented leaders or exceptionally clever committees; these products are part of a larger system, and which ones find the light of day depends very much on whether their organizations are successful in coping with the exigencies of their social environments.66

If Swidler is correct in her proposals about high-ideology periods, we should expect stark opposition between the sects and the dominant culture, or, more appropriately, dominant cultures, since dissident sectarian religious oppose both the dominant religious tradition from which they have emerged as well as the larger “secular” culture. For example, the Fourth Gospel opposes the dominant religious tradition, which the author indicates with the term “Jews,” as well as the larger culture designated as “the world.” These designations are not as tidy as they might first appear because (a) the categories “Jews” and “world” overlap and (b) by “secular” I do not mean a-religious or non-religious since it would be difficult to find a person in antiquity not involved in some religious cult. Rather, I mean to indicate that part of the larger culture that does not participate in the sect’s parent tradition, which, for the Qumran and Fourth Gospel communities consists of pagans. Likewise, those in the larger culture outside of Seventh-Day Adventism who are designated as “the world” might actually be part of a religious tradition and not define themselves in “secular” terms. The sects, however, do differentiate between the parent tradition from which they separated and to which they are opposed, and the larger culture that is not part of either the sect or the parent tradition, to which they are also opposed. To summarize the differences between the two models of culture, settled culture (tradition and common sense) is characterized by low coherence and low consistency and serves an encapsulating function. In the short term, it exerts “weak direct control over action” and “refines and reinforces skills, habits, and modes of experience.” In the long term, it “provides resources for constructing strategies of 66 Wuthnow, Producing, 32. The existence of the Johannine epistles indicates that at least two (opposing) parts of the Johannine community did, in fact, survive.

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action” and “creates continuities in style or ethos, and especially in organization of strategies of action.” On the other hand, unsettled culture (ideology) is characterized by high coherence and consistency, and, rather than encapsulating, “competes with other cultural views.” In the short term it exerts “strong control over action” and “teaches new modes of action.” In the long term it “creates new strategies of action, but long-term influence depends on structural opportunities for survival of competing ideologies.”67 Finally, a brief word about the direction of influence between ideology and ethos: debate continues about the relationship between the two, and most use Weber as a starting point.68 Weber is often interpreted as a determinist and criticized for placing too much emphasis on the causal power of ideology to dictate ethics. Regarding Calvinism, for example, Weber suggests that asceticism was borne of the predestinarian doctrine of salvation. Asceticism was not any more the inexorable outcome of predestinarian doctrine than hedonism might have been. Instead, one might argue for a relationship between ideology and ethos that gives priority to the latter as the more causal. Michael Walzer does so when he argues that Calvin had a certain discipline in mind, which he sought to effect in his listeners: He opportunistically revised and reworked his doctrine in order to achieve a particular psychological effect. Calvin needed potent theological imagery to inscribe within his congregants the rigorous control of thought and action he sought. Indeed, tightly argued doctrine, austere ritual, and potent imagery were the weapons Calvin crafted to teach a new ethos.

67 This paragraph summarizes the chart presented by Swidler as “Figure 1. Two Models of Culture.” Swidler, “Culture,” 282. 68 Weber’s concept of “elective affinity” appears in “Social Psychology of the World Religions,” in H. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills, trans. and eds., From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology (London: Routledge, 1960), 267–301. By it, Weber attempts to articulate the complex relationship between ideas and ethics. Using six world religions, he shows that ethics do not flow directly and inevitably from particular ideas; rather, certain ethics depend upon the “psychological and pragmatic contexts of religions” (267). “Not ideas, but material and ideal interests, directly govern men’s conduct. Yet very frequently the ‘world images’ that have been created by ‘ideas’ have, like switchmen, determined the tracks along which action has been pushed by the dynamic of interest. ‘From what’ and ‘for what’ one wished to be redeemed and, let us not forget, ‘could be’ redeemed, depended upon one’s image of the world” (280). Nancy Ammerman explains that “Weber was arguing with Marx on this score. So unlike Marx (for whom the material conditions were both necessary and sufficient), Weber posits that both material conditions and ideas are necessary (the train and the switchmen). Conditions + ideas = new conditions; not simply: ideas = new conditions.” Personal correspondence, February 9, 2000.

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  But doctrine “caused” ethos only in an immediate sense. In a larger explanatory perspective, commitment to a specific ethos, a style of regulating action, shaped the selection and development of doctrine.69

The fundamental recognition that there is a dialectic between ideology and ethos, and the articulation of how a leader may persuade her listeners, serves our study and will be referred to in the following chapters when I analyze how the authors deploy Scripture. If Walzer is correct, then we should expect Scripture to be used by leaders in such a way as to influence an ethos or ethics. A perduring question in Johannine studies concerns the chronological development of the Christology (ideology), the chronological development of the sect (ethos) itself, and the relationship between the christological development and the social group development. One might argue that the high Christology of the group developed first and caused the group to break off into a sect; or, one might argue that the high Christology was the result of having been displaced from the synagogue. The best arguments, however, allow for a nuanced dialectic between the two.70 In closing this section, which has oriented the reader to the assumptions made about culture in this work, I echo the sentiments of Swidler when she presents the implications of the approach to culture which she champions: This perspective could reorient research on culture in a second way, by directing attention to a set of historical questions about the interaction of culture and social structure. Distinguishing culture’s role in settled and unsettled periods, we can focus on those historical junctures where new cultural complexes make possible new or reorganized strategies of action. We can then ask how concrete structural circumstances affect the relative success of competing cultural systems. We could also ask how the capacity of particular ideas, rituals, and symbols to organize given kinds of action affects the historical opportunities actors are able to seize. Such questions might finally begin to give us a systematic view of the dynamic interactions between culture and social structure.71

My study lies in the trajectory of this implication.

69

Swidler, “Culture,” 280 (describing Walzer’s argument). See, e.g., Jerome Neyrey, An Ideology of Revolt: John’s Christology in Social-Science Perspective (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988). 71 Swidler, “Culture,” 283. 70

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Relationship Between Sect and Parent Tradition Establishing Distance Having presented the view of culture assumed in this study, I now attend to the details of group formation and maintenance. Sects, by definition, form in opposition to a parent tradition and, as long as they maintain their sectarian stance, they maintain opposition to and from that parent tradition. The sect inhabits an unclear land with regard to its identity: on the one hand, because it shares much of the same heritage and operates under many of the same presuppositions regarding worldview, in many ways it remains indistinct from the parent tradition; on the other hand, there is enough discontinuity with the parent tradition to warrant the formation of a separate group. How does a group distinguish itself from the parent tradition? First and foremost, the group accentuates the differences between itself and the parent tradition and creates a clear sense of “us” against “them.” The group is characterized in elevated terms and the opponents in degrading terms. Harold Garfinkel’s work on status degradation elucidates the process whereby this may be achieved. By definition, sects stand in opposition to at least one other group, the dominant tradition. The process of developing an identity, group boundaries, and a worldview involves distancing the community from other groups, defining the community over against authentic or constructed opponents. In creating a “we,” leaders capitalize on the benefits of creating a “not-we,” the “other.” None of our authors shies away from the polemic required for this process. In his article, “Conditions of Successful Degradation Ceremonies,” Garfinkel explains, “Communicative work directed to transforming an individual’s total identity into an identity lower in the group’s scheme of social types is called a ‘status degradation ceremony.’ ”72 By “total 72 Harold Garfinkel, “Conditions of Successful Degradation Ceremonies,” AJS 61 (1956): 420. The denunciation can occur through a variety of media including writing or personal presence. Whether or not it is successful depends on a number of factors, which Garfinkel addresses on p. 424; for example, “Whether the denunciation must be accomplished on a single occasion or is to be carried out over a sequence of ‘tries,’ factors like the territorial arrangements and movements of persons at the scene of the denunciation, the numbers of persons involved as accused, degraders, and witnesses, status claims of the contenders, prestige and power allocations among participants, all should influence the outcome.” I am not interested in deciding whether or not the degradation “worked” in the historical sense but rather in providing a framework that defines how one undertakes the work of degradation.

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identity,” Garfinkel signifies not just the actions of the denounced, but the grounds upon which the actions are based. This combination of behavior and grounds “constitutes the other as a social object.”73 Wherever one finds a society, one finds the structural conditions necessary for status degradation, though the tactics may be different from group to group.74 Where Garfinkel starts with specific ritualized occasions, the student of the Fourth Gospel deals with rhetoric in a text. Ritual and rhetoric have in common the power to enunciate a group’s ultimate values and draw lines indicating who shares those values and who does not. Because of this similarity, Garfinkel’s work can usefully be applied to the text of the Fourth Gospel. There are at least three dramatis personae in this performance: the denouncer, the denounced, and the group that the denouncer is trying to persuade (which Garfinkel designates “witnesses”). The denouncer must present himself or herself as an authentic representative of the group. The primary task of the denouncer consists of proving not that the denounced has somehow changed but rather that the character presently described is the essential character which may previously have escaped notice. The rhetoric of denunciation typically employs irony to highlight the disparity between what the denounced seemed to be and what he or she is now proved to be in reality. The reconsideration and “redefinition of origins of the denounced”75 also figures largely in that rhetoric. A successful degradation ceremony requires that the following conditions be met. First, the denounced and that which is being blamed on the denounced (for ease of discussion, Garfinkel chooses to call this the “event”) must be “removed from the realm of their everyday character and be made to stand as ‘out of the ordinary.’ ”76 Second, the denounced and the event must be seen in terms of types rather than unique occurrences so that a certain uniformity regard73

Ibid. One might appropriately assign Garfinkel’s work to the genre of shame and honor studies, which has recently garnered much attention in various disciplines. See, for example, Jerome H. Neyrey, Honor and Shame in the Gospel of Matthew (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998); David Arthur DeSilva, Despising Shame: Honor Discourse and Community Maintenance in the Epistle to the Hebrews (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995); Douglas L. Cairns, Aidos: The Psychology and Ethics of Honour and Shame in Ancient Greek Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993); and N. R. E. Fisher, Hybris: A Study in the Values of Honour and Shame in Ancient Greece (Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1992). 75 Garfinkel, “Conditions,” 422. 76 Ibid. 74

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ing both is engendered: “[A]ny sense of accident, coincidence, indeterminism, chance, or monetary [sic] occurrence must not merely be minimized. Ideally, such measures should be inconceivable. . . .”77 Having been convinced of the typed nature of the denounced, the group must then think in dialectical terms such that they “should not be able to contemplate the features of the denounced person without reference to the counterconception”;78 character traits are further clarified when held to the light of their opposites. Having set the situation up this way, the denouncer aims to have the group (“witnesses”) in such a position that no real choice is involved when regarding the denounced; rather, morality constrains the group to believe that the need for denunciation is obvious, if not commonsensical. The denouncer must enjoy some sort of authority and must show that he shares the same essence as the witnesses and that he speaks for the whole group when he speaks. “What the denouncer says must be regarded by the witnesses as true on the grounds of a socially employed metaphysics whereby witnesses assume that witnesses and denouncer are alike in essence. . . . For bona fide members it is not that these are the grounds upon which we are agreed but upon which we are alike, consubstantial, in origin the same.”79 The denouncer must draw attention to the group’s “ultimate values,” speak on behalf of those values, and be viewed as one who maintains those values. The last requirement involves drawing boundaries, separating the denounced from the denouncer and the group. The denouncer must establish distance between the witnesses and the denounced so much so that “the denounced person must be ritually separated from a place in the legitimate order, i.e., he must be defined as standing at a place opposed to it. He must be placed ‘outside,’ he must be made ‘strange.’ ”80 Applied Theory It is useful to illustrate briefly using examples from the Fourth Gospel. That John vehemently denounces a group known as “the Jews” stands uncontested. How does he effect this? In the narrative, Jesus stands as the denouncer, “the Jews” as the denounced, and the disciples as the witnesses, or group to be persuaded. Assuming the literary text 77 78 79 80

Ibid. Ibid., 422–23. Ibid., 423 and n. 12. Ibid., 423.

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to represent the contemporary reality of the author, the author is the denouncer, non-sectarian Jews are the denounced, and the sect is the witnesses. John 8:31–47 is instructive for this discussion: 8.31 ÖElegen oÔn ı ÉIhsoËw prÚw toÁw pepisteukÒtaw aÈt“ ÉIouda¤ouw, ÉEån Íme›w me¤nhte §n t“ lÒgƒ t“ §m“, élhy«w mayhta¤ moÊ §ste 8.32 ka‹ gn≈sesye tØn élÆyeian, ka‹ ≤ élÆyeia §leuyer≈sei Ímçw. 8.33 épekr¤yhsan prÚw aÈtÒn, Sp°rma ÉAbraãm §smen ka‹ oÈden‹ dedouleÊkamen p≈pote: p«w sÁ l°geiw ˜ti ÉEleÊyeroi genÆsesye; 8.34 épekr¤yh aÈto›w ı ÉIhsoËw, ÉAmØn émØn l°gv Ím›n ˜ti pçw ı poi«n tØn èmart¤an doËlÒw §stin t∞w èmart¤aw. 8.35 ı d¢ doËlow oÈ m°nei §n tª ofik¤& efiw tÚn afi«na, ı uflÚw m°nei efiw tÚn afi«na. 8.36 §ån oÔn ı uflÚw Ímçw §leuyer≈s˙, ˆntvw §leÊyeroi ¶sesye. 8.37 o‰da ˜ti sp°rma ÉAbraãm §ste: éllå zhte›t° me épokte›nai, ˜ti ı lÒgow ı §mÚw oÈ xvre› §n Ím›n. 8.38 ì §g∆ •≈raka parå t“ patr‹ lal«: ka‹ Íme›w oÔn ì ±koÊsate parå toË patrÚw poie›te. 8.39 ÉApekr¤yhsan ka‹ e‰pan aÈt“, ÑO patØr ≤m«n ÉAbraãm §stin. l°gei aÈto›w ı ÉIhsoËw, Efi t°kna toË ÉAbraãm §ste, tå ¶rga toË ÉAbraåm §poie›te: 8.40 nËn d¢ zhte›t° me épokte›nai ênyrvpon ˘w tØn élÆyeian Ím›n lelãlhka ∂n ≥kousa parå toË yeoË: toËto ÉAbraåm oÈk §po¤hsen. 8.41 Íme›w poie›te tå ¶rga toË patrÚw Ím«n. e‰pan [oÔn] aÈt“, ÑHme›w §k porne¤aw oÈ gegennÆmeya: ßna pat°ra ¶xomen tÚn yeÒn. 8.42 e‰pen aÈto›w ı ÉIhsoËw, Efi ı yeÚw patØr Ím«n ∑n ±gapçte ín §m°, §g∆ går §k toË yeoË §j∞lyon ka‹ ¥kv: oÈd¢ går épÉ §mautoË §lÆluya, éllÉ §ke›nÒw me ép°steilen. 8.43 diå t¤ tØn laliån tØn §mØn oÈ gin≈skete; ˜ti oÈ dÊnasye ékoÊein tÚn lÒgon tÚn §mÒn. 8.44 Íme›w §k toË patrÚw toË diabÒlou §st¢ ka‹ tåw §piyum¤aw toË patrÚw Ím«n y°lete poie›n. §ke›now ényrvpoktÒnow ∑n épÉ érx∞w ka‹ §n tª élhye¤& oÈk ¶sthken, ˜ti oÈk ¶stin élÆyeia §n aÈt“. ˜tan lalª tÚ ceËdow, §k t«n fid¤vn lale›, ˜ti ceÊsthw §st‹n ka‹ ı patØr aÈtoË. 8.45 §g∆ d¢ ˜ti tØn élÆyeian l°gv, oÈ pisteÊet° moi. 8.46 t¤w §j Ím«n §l°gxei me per‹ èmart¤aw; efi élÆyeian l°gv, diå t¤ Íme›w oÈ pisteÊet° moi; 8.47 ı Ãn §k toË yeoË tå =Æmata toË yeoË ékoÊei: diå toËto Íme›w oÈk ékoÊete, ˜ti §k toË yeoË oÈk §st°. 8.48 ÉApekr¤yhsan ofl ÉIouda›oi ka‹ e‰pan aÈt“, OÈ kal«w l°gomen ≤me›w ˜ti Samar¤thw e‰ sÁ ka‹ daimÒnion ¶xeiw;

That Jesus speaks as an authentic representative of the group and its ultimate values requires no comment. The passage begins with a presentation of “Jews who had believed” (pepisteukÒtaw), though by the end of the passage a reversal occurs. Jesus immediately establishes abiding in his own Word as the criterion for identifying one who is “truly” (élhy«w)81 a disciple. The reward will be knowledge of the truth (élÆyeia), which indicates that truth stands as a central value. ÉAlÆyeia and its cognates, which appear fifty-five times in the Fourth Gospel, occur eight times in 8:31–47 alone. When Jesus 81 Few aspects are more typically Johannine than the use of élÆyeia and its cognates.

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announces that the truth that comes from keeping his word will bring liberation, the “Jews who had believed” start defining themselves in relation to someone other than Jesus by appealing to their origins: “We are descendants of Abraham” (my emphasis). Ironically, they not only reject the values presented by Jesus, that is, truth and freedom, but do so with the claim “we have never been in bondage to anyone,” which implies an ignorance or forgetting of the exodus. Rather than engage that omission, Jesus indicates their bondage to sin and furthers the distancing process by declaring that there are two kinds of people, the slave and the son; the former does not continue in the house forever but the latter does. Since the author has designated them as slaves, the reader has no choice but to see them as opposed to the Son, whom the readers know is Jesus. Jesus next takes up their claim to be sp°rma ÉAbraãm; he grants them that claim, but indicates that the seed of Abraham should not desire to kill Jesus. Presenting them as potential murderers serves the denunciation process, as does Jesus’ explanation of their impulse. To be “insiders” (or, in John’s words, “truly [ Jesus’] disciples”) requires continuing in Jesus’ word, which they patently do not do: “my word finds no place in you”; hence, they are “outsiders.” In addition to the paired opposites already presented—slave vs. son; slavery vs. freedom; abiding in Jesus’ word vs. having no place for Jesus’ word— Jesus now indicates another: speaking what he has seen with his Father/ doing what they have heard from their father. This leads into a vehement argument regarding the true origins and essence of the opponents. In vv. 31–37, the debate is conducted in terms of “children,” with the Jews claiming and Jesus granting that they are sp°rma ÉAbraãm and Jesus claiming to be a son (uflÒw). Since Jesus has raised the issue of paternity, the Jews respond by citing Abraham as their father, an unremarkable ascription for a Jew. Given that in v. 37 Jesus granted their claim to be sp°rma ÉAbraãm, Jesus’ declaration in v. 39 may seem contradictory until one notices the switch from sp°rma to t°kna: “If you were Abraham’s children (t°kna), you would do what Abraham did, but now you seek to kill me, a man who has told you the truth (élÆyeia) which I heard from God.” The switch from sp°rma to t°kna is not accidental; t°kna occurs four times in John and it always refers to insiders, believers. Securing a position as a child of God is a central concern from the beginning of this Gospel: “But to all who received him, who believed (pisteÊv) in his name, he gave power to become children (t°kna) of God” ( John 1:12). At 11:52 we learn

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that the boundaries signifying insiders are drawn more largely than we might have first suspected, so that Christ died not only for the nation but also “to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad.” At 13:33 Christ calls the insiders, his disciples, “My children.” Thus, the “outsiderness” of these “Jews” is highlighted insofar as they are only sp°rma of Abraham and not t°kna. Having established that they are not t°kna ÉAbraãm because what they do in no way relates to what Abraham did, Jesus declares that what they do relates to what their real father did. Having lost the battle regarding Abraham as their father, the Jews now change their claim to “God is our Father.” Jesus addresses this claim in much the same way, starting with the conditional sentence, “If God were your Father (rather than “If you were Abraham’s children”), you would love me (rather than, “you would do what Abraham did”).” He then explains why they have failed to love him, just as in vv. 37–38 he explains why they seek to kill him, and he arrives at the same two related reasons: they are not able to hear his word and their father is the devil.82 Just as he said in v. 38, “you do what you have heard from your father,” so now he says, “your will is to do 82 Nils Dahl treats this passage at length in “Der Erstgeborene Satans und der Vater des Teufels (Polyk. 7,1 und Joh 8.44),” in Apophoreta: Festschrift für Ernst Haenchen (ed. Walther Eltester; BZNW 30; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1964), 70–84. He notices that Polycarp denounces his opponents using a triad of slander which comprises “Anti-Christ,” “from the devil,” and “firstborn of Satan.” The phrase “firstborn of Satan” appears in both Christian polemic against heretics and Talmudic anecdotes. Dahl suspects that they share a common root. He eventually traces the usage back to a startling targumic legend about Cain in which the story of Cain’s birth in Gen 4:1 is interpreted in such a way that the devil, not Adam, is Cain’s father. His explanation begins: Die Frage: ,,Wer war nach jüdischer Haggada der Erstgeborene Satans?“ zu erheben, heißt sie zu beantworten. Der Erstgeborene Satans war Kain. Darüber kann kein Zweifel bestehen, denn Kain war nach verbreiteter Überlieferung Sohn Satans, und es gab niemand, der ihm den Rang der Erstgeburt strittig machen könnte (72). Dahl argues that John 8:44 alludes to this tradition as well. When Jesus accuses the Jews of murderous desires, he indirectly indicates that they are the “geistige Nachkommen Kains,” who murdered his brother. Dahl admits that the texts of both Gen 4:1 and John 8:44 are problematic and open to various interpretations and reconstructions. He is certain that the §ke›now of 8:44 refers to Cain. Indeed, his reconstruction and interpretation of John 8:31–47 makes sense out of myriad problems in the passage, including text critical (the variant readings of 8:44), grammatical (how does one explain what exactly is meant by Íme›w §k toË patrÚw toË diabÒlou §st°), and hermeneutical questions. Regarding the last, Dahl’s argument best explains the presence of disparate elements which seem odd in their context, such as particularly identifying the father of the Jews as a “murderer” or focusing on sin at 8:34 (which Dahl considers to be an allusion to Gen 4:7). Dahl corroborates his hypothesis with evidence from various sources, including the Johannine epistles.

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your father’s desires.” Again, Jesus has set up a strict boundary line, a strict either/or: God as father vs. devil (diãbolow) as father. If the language was in any way neutral previously, Jesus now presents these Jews in such a way that the reader must consider them “outsiders,” completely opposed to the group’s ultimate values and not accidentally, but because of their very origins and essence.83 Their desire and attempt to murder him, their hatred of the truth and inability to hear Jesus’ word are inevitable given the devil as their source of being (Íme›w §k toË patrÚw toË diabÒlou), a figure whom Jesus describes as “a murderer from the beginning,” one who “has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks according to his own nature (§k t«n fid¤vn), for he is a liar and the father of lies” (8:44). The passage concludes with a clear distinction between insiders and outsiders, those who are “of God” (§k toË yeoË) and those who are not of God, respectively. Lest any doubt remain for the “Jews” with whom he is speaking (and presumably the reader), Jesus clearly categorizes them: §k toË yeoË oÈk §st°” (8:47). 8:48–59 continues in much the same vein and narrates the progression of the debate to the point that they try to kill him, thus proving Jesus’ insight about their very nature as murderers just like their father the devil and unlike their ancestor Abraham. Recall Garfinkel’s proposition: “Communicative work directed to transforming an individual’s total identity [defined as both the actions of the denounced and the grounds upon which the actions are based, the combination of which comprises the other as a social object] into an identity lower in the group’s scheme of social types is called a ‘status degradation ceremony.’ ” In my example, the goal is the denunciation of a “group” on a literal level, though one might argue that “the Jews” constitute a single character on the practical level. Jesus has accomplished the primary task of the denouncer, which is to prove not that these “Jews” had somehow changed, but rather that their character, as described in the passage as murderers, liars, and opponents of Jesus and God, is their essential character though it had apparently previously escaped notice. The author deploys rhetoric typical of denunciation when he uses irony to highlight the disparity between what the denounced seemed to be (those who were truly disciples who had received Jesus’ word) and what they are now 83 See Dahl, “Johannine Church,” 110–11, where Dahl treats 8:30–59 under the heading “Witnesses Before Christ.”

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proved to be in reality (liars in whom Jesus’ word finds no place). Secondly, one sees the “redefinition of origins of the denounced” insofar as the Jews are depicted as those who have the devil as their father rather than Abraham or God. Regarding the conditions which generally must be met for a successful degradation ceremony, it is clear that the “Jews” have been “removed from the realm of their everyday character and [have been] made to stand as ‘out of the ordinary.’ ”84 Second, “the Jews” and their opposition to Jesus in the form of attempted murder and rejection of his word are presented in terms of types rather than accidents. Third, having been convinced of the typed nature of the Jews, the witnesses now think of the Jews in dialectical terms such that they cannot consider the characteristics of the Jews apart from the counter-characteristics, so that the former are further clarified in light of the latter. The Jews belong to the categories of slave (as opposed to son), slavery (as opposed to freedom), having no place for Jesus’ word (as opposed to abiding in Jesus’ word), having the devil as father (as opposed to God as father), “not of God” (as opposed to “of God,” §k yeoË), and those who have “nothing to do with the truth” (as opposed to those who “know the truth”). As the denouncer, Jesus draws attention to the witnesses’ “ultimate values,” speaks on behalf of those values, and is viewed as one who maintains those values. The presentation has been conducted in such a way that the witness, disciple, or reader has no choice but to be against “the Jews” and to identify with Jesus: “What the denouncer [ Jesus] says must be regarded by the witnesses [disciples] as true on the grounds of a socially employed metaphysics whereby witnesses assume that witnesses and denouncer are alike in essence. . . . For bona fide members it is not that these are the grounds upon which we are agreed but upon which we are alike, consubstantial, in origin the same.”85 Finally, clear boundaries have been drawn in this denunciation passage such that “the Jews” have been construed as standing opposed to the group’s “legitimate order”; they have been placed “outside” and have been made “strange.” While I have conducted the study at the narrative level, that is, the story presented of Jesus and “the Jews” ostensibly occurring ca. 30 84 85

Garfinkel, “Conditions,” 422. Ibid., 423.

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.., my primary interest is the social context of the sectarian community for whom this Gospel was written near the end of the first century.86 If Meeks and Martyn are correct, the narrative may be seen, at least in part, as expressing the concerns of the Johannine community. In terms of the analysis above, that would lead us to replace Jesus as the denouncer with the author/leader of the community who speaks authoritatively through the text; the denounced would be the opponents from the sect’s parent community, and the “event” would be the opponents’ refusal to join the sect or, perhaps, their threat to kill sectarians. The sectarians would, of course, identify with Jesus, but it is the author, qua influential member, who occupies Jesus’ role as denouncer in the construction of the sect’s opponents as “other.” Because the passage begins by identifying the denounced not simply as “the Jews” but as “the Jews who had believed,” a case might be made that the author specifically has in mind here the denunciation of sect-defectors rather than the opponents from the parent community who had never been part of the sect. In response to that possibility I have two comments. First, there is no compelling reason to assume that the author could not achieve two purposes with one passage, and it is probable that such is the case here. Second, if one were to analyze the whole of the Fourth Gospel, one could easily make the case that a larger group of Jews is targeted than just apostates. To what pragmatic end is this status degradation enacted? Garfinkel argues that it reinforces “group solidarity” and “binds persons to the

86 Leander Keck has discussed ch. 8 in “Derivation as Destiny: ‘Of-ness’ in Johannine Christology, Anthropology, and Soteriology,” in Exploring the Gospel of John (ed. R. Alan Culpepper and C. Clifton Black; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 274–88. Keck contends that the author of the Fourth Gospel uses the preposition §k to indicate the essential “nature” of given characters in the Gospel. Of this passage he writes: This analysis of “of-ness” is confirmed in the latter half of chapter 8, which contains Jesus’ most drastic polemic against the very Jews who, despite believing in him (vv. 30, 31), nonetheless reject his promise of freedom, claiming that as Abraham’s descendants they have never been enslaved. . . . Jesus’ brutal attack (doubtless reflecting the invective of Jewish-Christian polemic against non-Christian Jews) is based on the previously noted principle that like produces like, here expressed as “like father, like son”. Consequently, of-ness implies not only the point of origin (derivation) but also the reproduction of its character. In other words, by construing of-ness as paternity, one can argue in both directions: One can infer the identity and character of the father from the behavior of the children, and one can attribute the character of the father to the children (p. 282).

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collectivity.”87 One might add other intentions or effects: to further define boundaries for the group; to establish or maintain an “orthodoxy” so that to be a member of this group means to be unlike the denounced; to cause the group to consider the person an “outsider” so that they will eschew that person’s behavior and worldview; to motivate the denounced to leave so that the group may be purified, rid of the denounced’s influence, and brought into closer harmony and unity. Garfinkel’s work makes it reasonable to expect the sect to elevate the status of the sectarians and degrade that of the group’s opponents.88 Capitalizing on Closeness While sects are involved in the creation of something distinct from the parent tradition, they nevertheless continue to be tied to it. In Swidler’s terms, even those in unsettled lives marked by a high ideology period tacitly draw on existing cultural assumptions from the larger culture: “[A]t least at their origins, such ideological movements are not complete cultures, in the sense that much of their taken-forgranted understanding of the world and many of their daily practices still depend on traditional patterns.”89 The ongoing connection between a sect and the parent tradition need not be eschewed by the group but can serve it well. In analyzing how congregations produce the sacred, Wuthnow suggests that congregations can claim that what they do is tied to the sacred because people are culturally conditioned to expect congregations to deal with the sacred. Given a society that has traditionally associated the sacred with certain religious institutions, a congregation can take advantage of that situation by tying itself to such institutions. Historians of early Christianities readily recognize this, especially when discussing what has come to be called “The Parting of the Ways,” that is, the process by which 87

Garfinkel, “Conditions,” 421. In various ways, Garfinkel’s work is corroborated by others who have conducted analyses concerning the dynamics involved in creating an “other” and the concomitant fulmination which results. See, e.g., Sean Freyne, “Vilifying the Other and Defining the Self,” in “To See Ourselves as Others See Us: Christians, Jews, ‘Others’ in Late Antiquity” (ed. Jacob Neusner and Ernest S. Frerichs; Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1985), 117–43; and Susan Harding, “Epilogue: Observing the Observers,” in Southern Baptists Observed (ed. Nancy Tatom Ammerman; Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 1993), 318–37. 89 Swidler, “Culture,” 279. 88

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Christianity became distinct from Judaism. In an unpublished paper,90 I argue that determining the date at which they could be distinguished depends upon whose perspective is presented, the pagan neighbors’, the Roman government’s, the Jews’ or the Christians’. From the perspective of the government, for instance, for some time in some places, Christians could enjoy some of the governmental benefits reserved for Jews by hanging on to the coattails of the Jews, so to speak. Viewing the Fourth Gospel as one Christian perspective, I will argue that John’s community did just what Wuthnow suggests, that is, capitalized on linking itself to Israel’s heritage, at least by its appropriation of its Scripture. Simultaneously then, the sect remains connected to the parent tradition but also tries to demonstrate its distinctiveness. One way to mark the group off is to narrate or construct an etiology of the group, celebrating its origins and grounding the community in the hoary past. Another important and consistent feature exhibited by the Qumran, Branch Davidian, and Fourth Gospel communities in their attempts to distinguish themselves from the parent traditions is the portrayal of the founders and leaders of the sects as having special insight regarding Scripture.

Creating a Distinct Way of Life Ethics and Ritual Practices A number of factors are involved in the successful invention and maintenance of a sectarian culture. Foremost is the influence that a group may exert upon its individual members. Wuthnow ascribes proper significance to the power and role of the community in shaping the individual member’s worldview: The congregation provides a crucible in which a new identity, a person undergoing change, can be molded. It also provides a manifestation of the collective journey of the sacred. This is why church leaders know the importance of corporate identity, why congregations write their histories and commemorate their anniversaries, and why they also sometimes deliberately develop conceptions of themselves as mission churches, pilgrim churches, or churches oriented toward new beginnings, 90 Jaime Clark-Soles, “Christians in Rome: Four Perspectives,” Unpublished essay, December 17, 1993.

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rebirth, and revival. These, like our individual stories, are perhaps myths that reconstruct the past and have minimal connections to actual history, yet they play a powerful role in making the sacred concrete. They do so by making it public, visible, so it can be internalized into the consciousness of individual members.91

If these observations hold true regarding congregations, they are even more likely to apply to sectarian groups that bother intensely with such matters as marking off boundaries, shaping individual and group identity, and expressing the sacred. If it is to enjoy significance and success, a congregation must do at least the following: (a) draw individuals into “an intimate community”; (b) encourage them to worship; and (c) “provid[e] them and their children with instruction.”92 Congregations draw boundaries that mark off the sacred from the profane. I have already noted this feature in reviewing Swidler’s work, and the observation is as old as Durkheim. The boundaries may be drawn in many ways, including rituals (such as fasting or purifying oneself ), architecture (such as a discrete meeting place, stained glass), and dress (formal attire, robes). Finally, there is distinctive behavior. Wuthnow notes: “There is, however, one additional way in which the content of what is said in and by congregations is fundamentally important to their capacity to express the sacred. Congregations do not set themselves apart from everyday life simply by hiding out in strange-looking buildings; they do so even more basically by saying strange things and doing strange things.”93 This saying and doing strange things comprises “ethics” and “ritual practice.” A group distinguishes itself by the principles that are preached and practiced. In a high-ideology period of a group, this group might be expected to delineate clearly the rules by which the members should abide, Swidler’s example of “wearing orange,” as it were. Often these rules address purity issues and, indeed, all three groups studied in this work express some interest in purity or cleanliness. As representatives of “unsettled lives,” sects might also be expected to focus attention on ritual practice. Of course, “ethics” and “ritual practice” overlap and they are to be separated only for heuristic purposes. Under “ritual” we might reasonably expect to find concern for worship, study and instruction, special meals, and methods of purification. 91 92 93

Wuthnow, Producing, 61. Ibid., 40. Ibid., 58.

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Language and Rhetoric Boundary formation takes place in numerous ways, one of which Wuthnow labels “cultural exclusion.” This refers to the process whereby the group rids itself of individuals who do not conform to the group by making them feel uncomfortable or unwelcome (so, as we shall see, John deals harshly with the so-called “crypto-Christians”). For religious groups “to have any distinct identity you have to have boundaries, buttressing the scarcity of their valued goods by limiting access to them.”94 I will ask what those goods would have been in the Branch Davidian, Qumran, and Johannine communities (presumably, “salvation” at the very least). An Ivy League degree is valuable not only because it has been defined as “good” but especially because access to it has been limited. How can a religious group weed out those who make the community less desirable? It takes the cooperation of the group around the preacher to effect boundary formation; the preacher cannot achieve that alone. One element of boundary construction has to do with the presentation of beliefs wherein boundaries are set by making the belief system one that is not accessible to everyone. This may be done by the group’s claim to maintain unique beliefs while simultaneously not definitively delineating those beliefs. Additionally, the group may pepper its presentation “with references to esoteric, historical, philosophical, and theological sources of wisdom.”95 Esoterica and irony would fit well here.96 At the more detailed level, Wuthnow only very occasionally signals the significance of the language by which a group communicates. He makes the following important comment only in passing: “The special advantage of congregations, especially in the high church or liturgical traditions (and at the extreme fundamentalist end of the theological spectrum), is that they can speak largely in the distinctive language of their own subculture and do so with the authority of specialists who know this language well.”97 Relevant to a consideration of the power of language, Wuthnow suggests that any effective religion must use what he calls a “language” based on tradition, narrative, and conviction, a weighty triumvirate. As noted above, the Fourth Gospel concerns itself with tradition, both that of Israel and 94 95 96 97

Ibid., 38. Ibid., 37. See Duke, Irony. Wuthnow, Producing, 101.

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that of the earliest Jesus movement. That the Fourth Gospel worries about conviction will become readily apparent when I treat the problem of sect-defectors. Of tradition, conviction, and narrative, Wuthnow’s presentation of the essentialness and almost inevitability of narrative commands attention: [Narrative’s] fundamental characteristic is the unfolding of events according to a temporal sequence. Narrative is thus especially well suited for connecting moral prescriptions with tradition. Narrative also tends to be self contained; it employs a high degree of intratextuality or selfreferencing. As such it is not easily disconfirmed by outside events or alternative stories. Understanding the narrative requires the listener to enter into its own internal logic. Narrative also invites this sort of identification between the listener and characters in the story. Whether there is true intersubjectivity between the subject and the text or not, the text suggests there is.98

During this investigation of the Fourth Gospel it is important to remember that the use of Scripture appears in the context of a narrative; in a sense it is a language within a language, a code within a code. When Wuthnow grants narrative, stories, and myth “a powerful role in making the sacred concrete,”99 he reminds us that the “literary” and the “social” are not discrete realms. In analyzing a Christian fundamentalist sermon preached in 1986 entitled “The Meaning of Life,” Marsha Witten has made a brief foray into ways by which narrative may be used in religious discourse. She seeks to “discover the conditions that make behaviors meaningful,”100 rather than trying to determine the meaning itself of worship practices and religious talk for participants, convinced that the latter remains impossible. Studying the “context and form of the practices and discourse,”101 however, does yield results, whether one works at the level of institutional contexts or at what she calls the “microscopic level,” studying the “internal structure or the practice of discourse itself.”102 Witten envisions her project thus: My concern here is not with what the sermon means, but with the way in which the structure of the information it presents makes its messages meaningful, delimiting and disambiguating the messages it communicates. In other words, I explore how the text exploits what 98 99 100 101 102

Ibid., 164. Ibid., 61. Witten, “Restriction,” 19. Ibid. Ibid.

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Northrop Frye (1982) would term its ‘centripetal tendency’: structures of information that turn in on themselves, close meaning down, license or authorize a particular set of messages, discourage plural readings. To do so, I examine features in and among the narratives in the text that create a tight structural coherence, a relatively ‘airless’ textual space, that present the sermon as a hermetic entity, a self-reinforcing utterance. Although this paper is devoted to the analysis of one sermon in depth, the method I display here would seem to offer much promise for the systematic, comparative study of the degree of disambiguation in religious texts in general.103

Witten argues that three mechanisms in the story form provide interpretive closure: compactness, coherence, and redundancy of communicative structures. The particular sermon she analyzes contains thirteen narratives. She isolates the following narrative, the “Seneca” story, as an example of a high degree of compactness: (1) Maybe it’s knowledge [that is the answer to the question of life]. (2) Maybe that [sic] why we go to college is because we need more answers. (3) We go to seminars in our jobs all the time to gain more knowledge because that’s going to fulfill life. (4) Seneca, a great philosopher and scholar, believed that. (5) He believed that if you gained enough knowledge that all the immoral things of life would go away, that peace would be attained on earth, that fulfillment would be found. (6) And he quested for knowledge and he gained knowledge and he found that his life became more immoral, that there became more violence, and he ended up committing suicide because he didn’t have any answers. (7) Because knowledge does not contain answers to the real life questions.

The story itself, which comprises sentences 4–6, exhibits an almost completely non-digressive character. There is only one character in the story and his character is summarized by two attributes: he is a scholar and a philosopher. The entirety of his search for truth occupies only three sentences. No setting is given. The narrative essentially races to the story’s outcome, Seneca’s demise. In narrating the story with such compactness, the preacher prohibits digressive gaps that might allow for alternative interpretations. The story also shows the power of coherence to delimit meaning. Here Witten is concerned to show the degree of “connectedness” exhibited by the stories, including both lexical and grammatical connections. Synonyms, word repetitions, or collocations (“words related either by membership in the same class or through opposition”) come under lexical connections, whereas grammatical connections include 103

Ibid., 19–20.

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such phenomena as pronouns, comparative references, conjunctions, or ellipses. Using a system that involves calculating the ratio of the possible number of linkages to the actual number, she finds that the stories in the sermon, including the “Seneca” story, enjoy an unusually high degree of connectedness which, combined with compactness, contributes to tight restriction of meaning. Witten then explores the element of redundancy in the sermon. Within this discussion, she attends to redundancy at the level of story (so the stories in the sermon tend to have the same elements), narrative discourse (often the commentary itself has a redundant structure), and, finally, at the meta-level (where the commentary on the story either always affirms, negates, or remains neutral with respect to the story). I will attend more closely to Witten’s discussion of redundancy when I analyze the Fourth Gospel. Sacred Texts Sacred texts provide a ready tool for cultivating a sense of group cohesion because by definition they form an unquestioned authoritative center for all groups which use them. Certainly this principle obtains in the Qumran, Branch Davidian, and Johannine communities. Although sociologists have studied sects and their opponents, sacred texts and authors have traditionally remained outside the purview of sociology, which tends to deal with groups, not individuals, and people, not texts, certainly unfortunate bifurcations. Occasional observations regarding authors or preachers appear, as when Weber or Bainbridge speaks of charismatic leaders, but remain largely absent. The same is true of Scripture. Bainbridge offers the one observation discussed above, but the fact that he lists the charismatic leaders and holy Scripture separately indicates that he does not consider the use of holy Scripture by the charismatic leader. If even this basic question has not been addressed, we can be sure that more nuanced distinctions have not been pondered. The influence and interplay of Scripture and interpreter for the sake of a community will occupy the remainder of this work, and it is hoped that upon its completion some useful conclusions might be rendered.104 104 Swidler writes the following not about cultures as unified wholes but about what she calls “chunks of culture” and their history: Particular cultural resources can be integrated, however, into quite different strategies of action. A crucial task for research is to understand how cultural

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My interest in Scripture’s role in maintaining a sect responds, in part, to Swidler’s call: “[S]ociologists should search for new analytic perspectives that will allow more effective concrete analyses of how culture is used by actors, how cultural elements constrain or facilitate patterns of action, what aspects of a cultural heritage have enduring effects on action, and what specific historical changes undermine the vitality of some cultural patterns and give rise to others.”105 Role of Authoritative Leaders Sociologists of cultural production remind us to consider the producer. In the case of the artist, the sociologist asks what kind of training the artist had; who funded the training; who provided the program of training; what kind of materials were at the artist’s disposal; who commissioned the piece; how the artist came to the attention of the commissioner; and how these social factors influence the content of the work. The artist and preacher can be distinguished from one another insofar as the former is expected to be original and inventive whereas the latter is expected to enact the sacred rather than produce it. Nonetheless, both the artist and preacher are intentional and deliberate, striving to achieve a particular goal in their production. Where the author is innovative, it is appropriate to ask what factors precipitated innovation, how various innovations may have competed with one another, why some appealed more than others, and, finally, how what was once innovative becomes the norm. One of Wuthnow’s important observations that I keep in mind in my analysis is the fact that “cultural production results in products and by-products, that is, intended results and unintended results.106 . . . In both cases capacities created in one historical context are reappropriated and altered in new circumstances. . . . The significance of specific cultural symbols can be understood only in relation to the strategies of action they sustain. Culture does not influence how groups organize action via enduring psychological proclivities implanted in individuals by their socialization. Instead, publicly available meanings facilitate certain patterns of action, making them readily available, while discouraging others (p. 283). My analysis of the reappropriation of the “chunk of culture” known as Scripture relates its significance to the strategies of action which it sustains, such as the formation and maintenance of a sectarian lifestyle and worldview. 105 Ibid. 106 This phenomenon is readily recognized by reader-response critics, not to mention by preachers who find that parishioners sometimes “hear” something in a sermon that (a) was not actually there or (b) was there, to the complete surprise of the preacher.

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resources are expended and social circumstances influence what happens.”107 All of this leads us to make the following two suggestions about the communities studied in the present work. First, whether or not the audience realizes it or cares, John, David Koresh, and the Qumran authors worked intentionally to achieve certain ends for certain audiences. Second, any serious study of the use of Scripture in the texts of these communities must take social circumstances into account. Definition of the Future Sects require great sacrifice from their members by asking them to abandon the comfort of “settled lives” and join the group. Because they demand much, they must promise much. Why should people enlist? What do they gain? What is the telos toward which the sacrifice is directed? Groups may respond variously, one with a vision for a better present world, another with a vision of an end to an earthly world. Many promise “salvation” and some variety of future glory for adherents of the sect. Whether the three communities under study do so will be addressed when each is taken up in turn. To summarize, I expect successful maintenance of sects to involve attention to ethical norms; ritual practice; the use of language and rhetoric to effect inclusion or exclusion; the authoritative roles played by the leader and by Scripture; and eschatology.

Opposition from within the Sect Because sects demand so much, they often experience a high rate of attrition. Leaders address this problem by: (1) rewarding adherence to the sect and (2) castigating potential and actual deserters.

Opposition from Without By definition, a sect stands in opposition to its larger social environment. Opposition between the sect and the parent tradition from which it stems was treated earlier, but often the sect will find itself 107

Wuthnow, Producing, 27.

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opposed to the larger culture which stands outside the parent tradition. The Qumran community, for example, reveals tensions not only with the parent tradition, temple-based Judaism, but also the Romans. The Branch Davidian group opposes the Seventh-Day Adventist Church as well as the rest of Christianity and secular American culture, including the government. Sects will sometimes label these non-parent, non-sectarian opponents “the world.”

Judgment against Opponents Once the group has exactly defined its opponents, pronouncing judgment upon them solidifies group cohesion. It serves as the corollary to rewarding faithful sectarians. Rewards and judgments can take both concrete and intangible forms; a leader might insist that faithful members will enjoy earthly material prosperity and the opponents scarcity of some sort, or that faithful members will enjoy a beatific heavenly eternal afterlife and the opponents a ghastly, agonizing eternal afterlife. Apocalyptic sects are particularly drawn to this technique.

Growing the Sect To ensure its ongoing vitality, one would expect a leader to worry about enlisting new members through proselytizing. Yet another way in which Swidler’s argument about culture and action is useful for studying the Fourth Gospel has to do with the apparent hesitance of some, represented by Nicodemus and the blind man’s parents, to join John’s community. Swidler observes that those in settled lives “do not readily take advantage of new structural opportunities which would require them to abandon established ways of life. This is not because they cling to cultural values [as the traditional Weberian argument contends], but because they are reluctant to abandon familiar strategies of action for which they have the cultural equipment.”108 Further:

108

Swidler, “Culture,” 281.

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Within established modes of life, culture provides a repertoire of capacities from which varying strategies of action may be constructed. Thus culture appears to shape action only in that the cultural repertoire limits the available range of strategies of action. Such “settled cultures” are nonetheless constraining. Although internally diverse and often contradictory, they provide the ritual traditions that regulate ordinary patterns of authority and cooperation, and they so define common sense that alternative ways of organizing action seem unimaginable, or at least implausible. Settled cultures constrain action over time because of the high costs of cultural retooling to adopt new patterns of action.109

These observations of Swidler’s generate questions about both potential recruitment to the sect and the ability to retain devotees. In addition to growing the sect through proselytes, I would expect the leaders to express concern for raising up the next generation of sectarians through special instruction for the children of the sect.

Excursus: A History of Church and Sect Anyone undertaking a study of sectarianism must contend with some of the older typologies, which still haunt and hinder students of sectarianism, especially the “sect-church” and “sect-cult” debates. Indeed, one scholar goes so far as to say: “Perhaps the cornerstone of the sociology of religion is church-sect theory. . . .”110 Because the history and legacy of the church-sect typology is usually rehearsed by any serious scholar undertaking a discussion of the sociology of sectarianism and is therefore readily available to the especially interested reader, the recapitulation of the subject here is brief. The scholarly debate over church and sect began with Max Weber and Ernst Troeltsch, and has been continued at least by Niebuhr, Benton Johnson, Bryan Wilson, Laurence Iannaccone, and William Sims Bainbridge. Weber contrasted church and sect, describing the former as inclusive and the latter as exclusive. Troeltsch expanded this characterization, noting that the church is bureaucratic, conforms to society, and appeals to the upper classes whereas sects are small, ascetic, countercultural, non-bureaucratic, and consist of members who are devoted, close, and primarily lower class. While aware of the culturally conditioned nature of Troeltsch’s proposed typology, 109 110

Ibid., 284. Bainbridge, Sociology, 38.

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some scholars consider it still generally relevant. Accordingly, Wilson characterizes Christian sects as follows: (1) They tend to be exclusive, in the sense that they do not admit of dual allegiances: a sectarian is committed to only one body of religious teaching, and has only one membership. (2) Sects tend to claim that they have a monopoly of the complete religious truth, which others do not enjoy. This truth provides the framework for all aspects of belief, religious worship, social practice, ethics, politics, and all areas of human affairs; it may also embrace an understanding of the natural world, and the purposes and order that are thought to underlie the universe. (3) Sects also tend to be lay organizations. They may develop a body of professional functionaries and organizers, but they are generally anti-sacerdotal. This is implicit in the assumption that is made by sectarians that all men have some equal possibility of access to the truth. That such an assumption should so often be apparent in the operations of sects arises from the need of the inspirators of these movements to legitimize their own departure from prevailing orthodoxy—an orthodoxy warranted and sustained by the claims of a priestly class. (4) As far as specifically religious practice goes, sects tend to reject the religious division of labour, and to deny special religious virtuosity to anyone, except, in some cases, to their own founders and leaders. Religious obligations are equal obligations for all “those who accept the truth” (as sects frequently define their own members). (5) It is thus implicit that sects are marked by voluntarism. An individual chooses to be a sectarian, and he is normally required to show some mark of merit (by knowledge of doctrine; quality of life; the recommendation of members in good standing; initiations or ritual performances; and so on) in order to be accepted as a member. (6) In conformity with this last requirement, sects exercise concern for sustained standards among their members, and it is usually the case that they exercise sanctions against the inadequate or wayward, to the point of expelling such individuals from the sect. (7) Sects tend to demand total allegiance. The member of any of the conventional churches in western countries may not appear in his everyday life to be very different from other religiously-uncommitted, or completely secular, men in his life-style, morals, interest, and leisure-time pursuits. This is not true of the sectarian—he is marked emphatically by his religious allegiance, which is expected to be evident in its influence on all areas of his life. The fact that a man is a member of such-and-such a group— a Mormon, a Seventh-day Adventist, or one of Jehovah’s Witnesses— is in itself the single most important fact about him, telling one more of what to expect of him than any other piece of information pertaining to him. (8) Finally, the sect is a protest group.111 111 Bryan R. Wilson, Religion in Sociological Perspective (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982), 91–92.

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H. Richard Niebuhr argued that sects naturally evolve into denominations after one generation, implying that the former, in effect, compromise or “sell out.” Like Troeltsch’s, Niebuhr’s model was overly conditioned by a particular era (turn of the century), location (United States), and religion (Christianity). Additionally, instead of recognizing that there may be more than one type of sect and, therefore, that one evolutionary model is insufficient, he assumed that all sects develop in the same way. Benton Johnson criticized the judgmental attitudes of Niebuhr and Wilson regarding sects that assimilate and exhorted sociologists to leave their own “baggage” out of the discussion, to “keep their sociology in isolation from their other passions.”112 Positively, Johnson attempted to improve upon the typologies of Troeltsch and Weber so that they might enjoy a wider applicability, indeed one that could account for Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions.113 Probably the most influential and prolific sociologist of sectarianism, Bryan Wilson has covered a lengthy period in his work. Precisely because he resists dogmatic confidence in typologies or models of sectarianism and, for that matter, the sociology of religion itself, Wilson provides some of the most useful material. He himself intended to construct a typology less determined by post-Reformation Christian sects, one broad enough to include non-Christian, non-western, nonindustrialized contexts. That fact, combined with his use of a comparative approach, makes him particularly interesting and important for the present project. He avoids the earlier theorists’ tendency to define a group based on either organization or doctrine since both of those categories were unduly dictated by Christianity; instead, he suggests and outlines various “responses to the world” evinced by sectarian groups. His own particular interests lie in how groups address and propose to overcome the problem of evil through some scheme of “salvation.” Over the years he has unabashedly revised the typology that he first presented in 1959. In one of its later recensions it comprised the following seven “responses to the world”:114 1. The conversionist response to the world holds that the world is corrupt because people are corrupt and seeks a “supernaturally 112

Benton Johnson, “Church and Sect Revisited,” JSSR 10 (1971): 137. Benton Johnson, “On Church and Sect,” American Sociological Review 28 (1963): 539. 114 For a fuller presentation, see Bryan R. Wilson, Magic and the Millennium (New York: Harper & Row, 1973), 22–30. 113

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wrought transformation of the self ” which allows a “new subjective orientation,” a transcendence over the evil apparent in the world.115 This new posture vis-à-vis the world constitutes salvation and, while it may include a future element, the focus is on salvation now. 2. The revolutionist response insists that the only cure for the evil that exists is the destruction of the contemporary natural and social world; while the faithful may be called to play some small role, it is primarily a divine endeavor, to be executed imminently. Salvation is in the immediate future. 3. The introversionist response views the world as entirely evil and teaches withdrawal from and renunciation of the world as the only means of salvation. The community separates itself from the larger society and worries intently about maintaining holiness. Though ideologically the attainment of salvation is located in the future, “salvation is sociologically a present endeavour”116 and is reserved only for members of the group. 4. The manipulationist response contends that salvation depends upon the mastery of religious precepts that allow one to see the world differently. Salvation comprises health, wealth, happiness, and high status. “Whilst it is the subjective orientation which must be changed, the objective world will be brought into harmony with this new perception and manipulated by it.”117 5. The thaumaturgical response focuses on the cure of very specific afflictions, such as illness, grief, fear, and death. Escape from them constitutes salvation and that salvation is wrought through miracles and oracles. 6. The reformist response seeks to reform the world under the guidance and direction of the divine as revealed to those “whose hearts and minds are open to supernatural influence.”118 According to Wilson, this response may externally resemble rational secular approaches using the same techniques toward similar ends. It maintains that people will be responsible for changing the world, but only at the behest and demand of the divine. Because the position accommodates the world to a significant degree, its convictions about salvation are less gripping and, therefore, it experiences less intense allegiance than the other responses. 115 116 117 118

Ibid., 22. Ibid., 24. Ibid. Ibid., 25.

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7. The utopian response seeks to remodel the world in accordance with the divine economy and reconstitute society in a way that eradicates evil. It does not imagine an apocalyptic cataclysmic event on the part of the divine, but rather envisages human energy accomplishing the divinely assigned task.119 Wilson is careful to warn that his typology (or anyone else’s) should not be treated as a final, complete, thoroughly accomplished scheme that may be universally applied and expected to render a full characterization of any given group. It is unfortunate that Wilson himself has never applied his expertise to ancient groups. One shortcoming of Wilson’s work lies in the fact that, while earlier scholars of the Fourth Gospel may have focused too narrowly on ideology (in the form of theology, Christology, soteriology) and assumed too close a connection between that ideology and the probable social realities related to the group, Wilson himself may leave too little room for any causal connection between ideology and social reality.120 Typology finally gave way to theory in the work of Laurence Iannaccone, who attempted to base his analysis of church and sect on empirical evidence and has employed an economic model, thus lending to the subject the status associated with theory and mathematical analysis. After reviewing charts, graphs, and statistics largely impenetrable to the nonspecialist, one arrives at Iannaccone’s conclusions about church and sect. Churches are moderate with respect to social norms whereas sects are extreme. Sects create two classes, “members (or ‘true believers’), who fully embrace the sect norms while rejecting the society’s, and nonmembers (both ‘heathen’ and 119

This model replaces that presented in “An Analysis of Sect Development,” American Sociological Review 24 (1959): 3–15, where Wilson posited four types of sects: conversionist, gnostic, introversionist, and adventist. Explaining his decision, he writes: “In that endeavor [i.e., that undertaken in Magic and the Millennium], I found it necessary to abandon the rigorous application of sub-types of sect in favour of ‘responses to the world,’ since this type construct did not carry with it the demand for, for example, either exclusivity or the particular assumptions about organization that are built into the concept of the sect as such.” Wilson, Religion, 103. 120 Indeed, he admits having had such criticism lodged against him, but offers only the following rather unrepentant reply: “Obviously response is affected by teachings and doctrine (where something answering to that designation exists), but it is recognizable in groups in which formal teaching is inchoate or incoherent. . . . Ideology, as formally expressed in sect teachings, can become ossified and insensitive to social realities that are expressed by other media and at other levels within a movement. While by no means ignoring the importance of conscious ideologies, this specific item by which ideal types of sect may be distinguished is not confined to ideological concerns.” Wilson, Magic, 20.

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‘heretics’), who reject the sect and are in turn rejected by it.”121 In contrast to churches, where mobility is not a noteworthy feature, the sect’s grasp on new converts is tentative and apostasy is common. Sect membership is more homogenous than church membership, and sects exhibit a stability in the event of social change that the church does not, given its tendency to accommodate to changing society.122 Because they demand more from their members than do churches, sects have to offer more to their members. Furthermore, because the sect requires rejection of the secular society, it must provide an alternative society. “It cannot merely exhort its members to sell all they have; it must also provide them with everything they need.”123 The sect provides not only such mundane necessities as food and shelter, but also intangible rewards such as friendship and status. Sects tend to attract those who do not have much to lose by forfeiting ties with traditional society (unlike, say, a Nicodemus), so they often appeal to the poor, the uneducated, and those who have limited secular opportunities, such as women and minorities. Bainbridge renders the most cogent presentation of past typologies of sects and a newer, perhaps more sophisticated argument that seeks to operate at the level of theory.124 He begins by presenting three hallowed notions maintained by sociologists of sectarianism: first, the group’s religious beliefs and practices largely stand in continuity with the mainstream groups of its society but tend to be more intense; second, sects overrecruit from the poor and uneducated; and third, sects emerge from denominational schism. The problem with the third notion is that it envisions a rather abrupt, definitive break as the only way a sect might form. But not all groups conform to such a scheme. For example, according to Bainbridge: “Adventist movements seem generally to begin not in the schism of a denomination into two or more parts, although that did occur in the recent history of the Branch Davidians, but in rather more subtle processes that take place within a diffuse Adventist cultural system.”125 121 Laurence R. Iannaccone, “A Formal Model of Church and Sect,” American Journal of Sociology 94 (1988): S257. 122 Thus, Iannaccone’s findings contradict Niebuhr’s claim that sects evolve into denominations. Ibid., S258. 123 Ibid., S259. 124 Bainbridge, Sociology. Bainbridge has worked closely and prolifically with Rodney Stark for many years, and this most recent work draws heavily upon that previous work, especially their well-known A Theory of Religion (New York: Lang, 1987) and The Future of Religion (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), inter alia. 125 Bainbridge, Sociology, 117.

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Like Wilson, Bainbridge notes a number of problems with the church-sect typology as initially defined by Ernst Troeltsch. First, by “church” what is meant is an established church, a church recognized by the society and the state as “the” church. Such a model applies neither to modern industrial nations, which by and large have no national church; nor to first-century Palestinian Judaism, which operated under occupation; nor to Diaspora Judaism, which lived under pagan rule; nor to first-century Christianity as reflected in the . The concept denoted by “sect” in this scheme fares no better because many sects do not evidence all of the features described by the ideal type. Recall that Benton Johnson sought to modify Troelstch’s typology to achieve wider application. Rather than attempting to reform the typology, Bainbridge prefers to discard that model and focus instead on Johnson’s observation about “degrees of tension” that exist between a religious group and its social environment, with low-tension denominations on the one end and high-tension sects on the other. “A religious group might be found at any point along this dimension, and over time it may move a significant distance, either increasing or decreasing its relative tension with the surrounding sociocultural environment.”126 The church-sect typology has run its course of usefulness. Sociology of sectarianism has become more sophisticated, trying to move away from the level of impression and sheer particularism toward the level of theory. Instead of defining “sect” as merely a deviant form of “church,” scholars are focusing on sects in the absolute. Bainbridge’s work, though somewhat reductionistic and overdetermined by economic theories, serves as a guide for us as we approach sects in terms of levels of tension rather than a rigid checklist of necessary features. Sect-Cult Distinctions Sect-church typology is no longer compelling. As indicated early in this chapter, however, if used cautiously the sect-cult distinction can help us to differentiate between those schismatic groups that break away from a parent tradition and non-schismatic innovative groups that arise in a society or are imported to it from an alien culture. 126 Ibid., 41. This proposition accounts both for the Johannine community’s moving relatively quickly from the high-tension position vis-à-vis its social environs to the lower-tension position reflected in the Johannine epistles and for the fact that the Branch Davidians and Qumran community did not, though all evidence sectarian characteristics.

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The former comprise “sects” and the latter, “cults” (or “NRMs—new religious movements”127 as specialists now commonly refer to them in an attempt to avoid the pejorative sense associated with the word “cult”). It is the case that the method of emergence, the social composition, and the dynamics of the two kinds of group generally differ so that such labels serve as a shorthand for expressing what one should expect from a group. The problem lies in the paradigm’s inability to account for the many groups that do not fit neatly into the paradigm, those that are marked by both schism and innovation, as we shall see at least when we study the Branch Davidians, an Adventist group. Like Bainbridge, I want “to get beyond sectcult thinking,”128 and rely instead on his “levels of tension” approach, which is more broad and more specific than either traditional “sectchurch” or “sect-cult” typologies. Why Label the Group? What is the benefit of trying to understand what kind of social group the Fourth Gospel represents? Why not stick merely to defining what kind of theology (including soteriology, Christology, ecclesiology) the group represents? In a sense, to ask what kind of social group the Fourth Gospel represents using the insights of the sociology of religion is to take the Fourth Gospel’s own incarnational theology more seriously than theologians themselves have in rendering disembodied analyses. My objective is no more ambitious than to know and understand this first-century community more accurately, and, perhaps as a by-product, to know and understand those of Qumran and the Branch Davidians better. If it is the case that any or all of the groups are “sects,” then I should be able to make some predictions about what I expect to find. As I have noted, the dynamics involved in the formation and maintenance of a sect differ greatly from those of a “novel religious movement,” a “denomination,” or, if Wilson is correct, even another sect. Using the scholars discussed above, especially Swidler, Wuthnow, Wilson, Bainbridge, and Garfinkel as a springboard, our constructive task lies in positing a taxonomy that might help both  scholars and sociologists of religion analyze 127 Rodney Stark prefers to call them “novel” rather than “new” religious movements because sects are also “new” in some sense while not being “novel.” See Bainbridge, Sociology, 24. 128 Ibid., 107.

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the social function(s) served by an author’s or community’s deployment of Scripture, a task that has been undertaken by neither group of scholars. If it is possible to theorize about the nature of various religious groups (sects, NRMs, denominations), apply the theory to actual groups, modify the theory based on particular studies, and use the more refined theory to undertake a new particular study, why should it not be possible to do the same thing for the ways in which various religious groups use their sacred texts to achieve their goals? Should one place exceeding confidence in the theories, typologies, and taxonomies composed by the above scholars or by the present author? Should one envision them as ends in themselves, definitive, solidified categories that exist in order to force elements into them and, having done so, consider oneself to have “explained” something? Indeed not. All of Wilson’s insights regarding the purpose, advantages, and limitations of constructing ideal types should be assumed by the reader: The point of type construction is to delineate a probable and expectable constellation of related features and logical relationships and sequences, and, by comparing the type with actual phenomena, to become aware of the issues that stand in need of explanation. All actual empirical cases diverge from the ideal type, but there must clearly be a limit to such divergence, a point beyond which the cases cannot usefully be analysed by using the type as the appropriate measuring rod, simply because the case is too discrepant. One might say, a point at which the case concerned cannot be appropriately called a ‘sect’, and thus cannot be usefully analysed in the terms we have carefully devised as being specifically appropriate for the analysis of sects. . . . The question of whether a particular movement may or may not properly be called a ‘sect’ is in itself of relatively little interest; the question that matters is the appropriate tools for analysis. . . . [Ideal types] are essential tools, and their purpose is not one of classification. Typeconstructs are not intended simply to allow us to designate classes of phenomena: they are to indicate, as we have said, the expectable logic of the social arrangements of a given genus of phenomena. It is a futile occupation to spend time on deciding whether a particular movement should be called a ‘sect’ or not. Ideal types are not empty boxes into which the sociologist drops appropriate cases; they are, rather, to be used to make us aware of the specific historical, organizational, compositional, or other features of a sect that depart from our hypothetical system of logical relationships. The type should always turn us back to historical or empirical data so that we can explain those features of a case that contradict our hypothesized common-sense assumptions.129 129

Wilson, Religion, 104–5.

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Conclusion Having elaborated on its various elements, I refer again to the chart on page 24, which will provide a taxonomy for presenting the research into the uses of Scripture by each of the three examined groups. When Swidler writes: “Strategies of action are cultural products; the symbolic experiences, mythic lore, and ritual practices of a group or society create moods and motivations, ways of organizing experience and evaluating reality, modes of regulating conduct, and ways of forming social bonds, which provide resources for constructing strategies of action,”130 she approximates my interest in what social effect John’s use of one element of culture, Scripture, has on his community.

130

Swidler, “Culture,” 284.

CHAPTER THREE

THE QUMRAN COMMUNITY Cultural history requires us to take seriously the forms by which a culture transmits its knowledge, and thereby shapes its members’ competencies and self-conceptions. As Roger Chartier asks: “How are we to understand the ways in which the form that transmits a text to its readers or hearers constrains the production of its meaning? The appropriation of discourse is not something that happens without rules or limits. Writing deploys strategies that are meant to produce effects, dictate a posture, and oblige the reader. . . . If we want to understand the appropriations and interpretations of a text in their full historicity, we need to identify the effects in terms of meaning that its material forms produced.” Stephen Fraade, “Looking for Legal Midrash at Qumran”

Why Qumran? Like that of the Fourth Gospel, the community of the Dead Sea Scrolls has come to be regarded as a sect in the sociological sense.1 That is to say, both developed out of conflict with a parent tradition, both represent “an intense form of a standard religious tradition,”2 and both engaged certain strategies of action that maintained or increased tension with the parent tradition. Unlike the Johannine community, which left behind only meager proof of its existence in the form of the Fourth Gospel and the Johannine Epistles, the Qumran community has bequeathed to its students a veritable literary goldmine in addition to archaeological evidence. The present task involves understanding how the use of Scripture at Qumran may have contributed to the formation and maintenance of the sect. Because much more is known 1 2

For an introduction to Jewish sectarianism, see Cohen, Maccabees to Mishnah, 124–73. Bainbridge, Sociology, 24.

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about the sect at Qumran, the study of its scriptural use may by analogy and comparison yield insight into the community of the Fourth Gospel.3

The Origins of the Sect In his article, “The Prehistory of the Qumran Community,”4 Philip R. Davies depicts the history of research regarding the origins of the Qumran community as a drama in three scenes. The first scene finds scholars suggesting that the Qumran community emerged in the midsecond century ... as a result of opposition between a pro-Zadokite group and the Hasmonean high priest. According to the theory, the pro-Zadokite group consisted of so-called Hasidim who had been antiAntiochus Epiphanes. As a result of the conflict with the “wicked” high priest, the Teacher of Righteousness, who was the leader of the Hasidim, withdrew to Qumran with his disciples and formed a sect, the Essenes. From there, Essenism spread throughout Palestine, with Qumran serving as locus of authority for the movement.5 Those Hasidim who spurned the Teacher of Righteousness became the Pharisees. Such a reconstruction equates the Essenes (attested to by Josephus) with the Qumran community. It depends primarily upon Pesher Habakkuk for corroboration, takes what is found there at face value, and fills in the gaps with a harmonizing approach to CD and archaeology.6 The second scene, according to Davies, features scholars who both pay more attention to the prehistory of the Qumran sect and employ a more sophisticated methodology than earlier scholars, a methodology grounded in literary criticism. Acting in this second scene are 3 Richard Hays indicates the appropriateness of such comparison when he writes: “Rabbinic Judaism, no less than early Christianity, represents (along with the Qumran community and Philo’s scholastic Alexandrian Judaism, inter alia), one of several different adaptations of the religious and cultural heritage represented by Israel’s Scriptures.” Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 11. The same could be said of the Qumran and Branch Davidian communities, though the latter does not have the advantage of prestige bestowed upon the hoary. Comparative analysis reveals what the possibilities were and are for treating the . 4 Philip R. Davies, “The Prehistory of the Qumran Community,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of Research (ed. Devorah Dimant and Uriel Rappaport; Leiden: Brill, 1992), 116–25. 5 Ibid., 116. 6 Ibid., 117.

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scholars such as G. Jeremias, H. Stegemann, and J. Murphy-O’Connor, who have noticed discrepancies concerning the history of the sect not only within CD itself but also between CD and other Qumran literature. CD reveals no “wicked priest,” reflects a different ideology and community formation than 1QS reflects, and a different history of sect formation than the pesharim. This has led them to argue that CD reflects the stage of the community before the arrival of the Teacher of Righteousness, whether that pre-Qumran phase might be described as Hasidic (Stegemann) or Essenic (MurphyO’Connor).7 In this construal, the Teacher of Righteousness arrived after the group or movement was established and caused division that resulted in the withdrawal of his followers to the Dead Sea while the rest of the Essenes remained throughout Palestine. This school attributes the origin of the Essenes to sometime between the exile and the first half of the second-century ... Davies critiques the first two scenes and suggests a way forward to the third scene: The third alternative, which of course is the only alternative, is to take the conclusions generated by such literary-critical studies as we have (of the Community Rule, the Damascus Document and the War Scroll in particular) which raise important questions about the ideology and history of Qumran literature—and try to verify or falsify them by looking at other texts from Qumran, looking again at the other ancient sources, and at the archeological data from Qumran—and, most of all, testing the implication.8

Having done so, Davies himself finds at least two communities reflected in the scrolls. The first and earliest community was a group of Essenes, and the second he designates as the yahad depicted in 1QS. He considers the Essenes the “parent movement”9 and the yahad one of its offspring. The earlier community may have developed at any time from the exile on, and its interests and nature are reflected in 11QT, CD, Jubilees, and perhaps 4QMMT and parts of 1 Enoch. The later yahad of Qumran adopted CD and these other texts much in the same way as Christians did the .10 Anyone who undertakes a brief sketch of the origins of the Qumran community or commu7

Ibid., 118. Ibid., 119. 9 Ibid., 121. 10 Ibid. Davies’ statement, of course, is a bit too simplistic, but the analogy serves its purpose. 8

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nities must agree with Davies’ observation: “I suggest that few scholars—even including Qumran specialists—realize the extent to which the whole question of origins is now without consensus.”11 A perennial problem when dealing with the extant texts as evidence for the community at Qumran lies in designating which texts discovered in the caves were composed by the community and which were merely brought there or brought and edited. Regardless of the group’s origins or whether the texts studied in this chapter originated from the group with which it has become associated, this study will presume that the so-called “sectarian documents,” including the pesharim, 1QS, CD, and 4QMMT, discovered at the Dead Sea reflect the nature of the sectarian community that dwelled there and preserved the manuscripts.

The Evidence from Qumran In an investigation concerning the social history of the community, students of Qumran fare better than do their Fourth Gospel counterparts, for not only do they have archaeological remains, but also a vast library upon which to draw.12 Customarily scholars divide the Qumran literature into biblical and non-biblical, the former denoting actual biblical texts and the latter comprising all else. Many of the non-biblical texts are saturated with Scripture, albeit in different ways. The present analysis will attend to the use of Scripture in Pesher Habakkuk (1QpHab),13 4QMMT,14 and the Damascus Document (CD) 1–8 and 19–20.15 11

Ibid., 119. Florentino García Martínez’s The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated: The Qumran Texts in English (Leiden: Brill, 1994), offers the advantage of a complete compilation of all texts published as of 1994, not to mention an introduction to each text. Often scholars possess numerous fragments of a work which they use to reconstruct the original text (as is the case for The Halakic Letter, e.g.). Martínez includes not only the hypothetically reconstructed text, but also all of the fragments. 13 For the Hebrew text, see Miller Burrows, The Isaiah Manuscript and the Habakkuk Commentary, vol. 1 of The Dead Sea Scrolls of St. Mark’s Monastery (New Haven: The American Schools of Oriental Research, 1950), plates LV–LXI. 14 For the Hebrew text, see Elisha Qimron and John Strugnell, Qumran Cave 4.V: Miqsat Ma’ase ha-Torah (DJD X; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994). 15 For the Hebrew text, I use Florentino García Martínez and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition: Volume One IQI–4Q273 (Leiden: Brill, 1997). CD 1–8, 19–20 is known as the Admonition or Exhortation while CD 9–16 is called the Laws or Statutes. Jonathan G. Campbell’s The Use of Scripture in the 12

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Why these texts? Ideally, one would employ texts of the same genre in doing comparative work; however, the Qumran library contains nothing analogous to a Gospel. Like  scholars, Qumran scholars debate issues of genre. One text can fit more than one genre. For example, the Damascus Document contains rules for the community, much like the text known as Rule of the Community, but it also contains halakah, much like 4QMMT or even Jubilees, the latter of which is classified under “rewritten Bible”; it also contains biblical interpretation. And while there are some commonalities between Qumran literature and Johannine literature, there is no continuous narrative recounting the deeds and teachings of the founder of the group. 4QMMT displays mostly halakic interests but it also sheds light on the sectarian understanding of the group’s separatism primarily due to halakic differences. I have chosen CD because it represents the genre of “Rules,” which has been designated “the most typical of all the documents from the Qumran library.”16 One might question its inclusion, leveling criticisms such as the fact that its contents reflect an Essenism at odds with other Qumran literature. CD represents an Essenism that could be lived out in town rather than desert, in marriage rather than celibacy, in conjunction with frequenting the Temple for worship rather than complete withdrawal from it, with some different hierarchical structuring and even some different regulations.17 In defense of its inclusion, the fact that so many copies of CD were discovered at Qumran corroborates the assumption that the sect considered the text an important and authoritative document. CD most likely represents an earlier phase of the sect than does 1QpHab and as such it gives us a wider purview of evidence related to scriptural interpretation of the Qumran community. Pesher Habakkuk is included because it offers an example of another genre typical of that community, the pesharim, and, though prima facie the use of Scripture is fairly straightforward, a closer analysis reveals various intentions of the commentator that survive, which Damascus Document 1–8, 19–20 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1995), provides a useful examination of The Admonition. 16 García Martínez, Dead Sea Scrolls Translated, 2. 17 For a summary of similarities and differences between the two types of Essenism, see Geza Vermes, The Dead Sea Scrolls in English (3d ed.; New York: Penguin, 1987), 9–16.

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accounts for its preeminent position among Qumran scholars. The other fifteen pesharim are much more fragmentary.18 By way of introduction I will present some commonly held views about “exegesis at Qumran,” the “character of the Qumran community,” and “pesherite exegesis” before moving to a perusal of the texts.19

Exegesis at Qumran Numerous scholars have contributed to the discussion of exegesis at Qumran, and some have even sought to compare it with that of various  authors.20 The literary evidence depicts a community for whom study of Scripture is definitive: “[T]he Qumran Community, in recounting its origins and continuing practices, in describing how a person gains admission to the community and advances through its ranks, places intensive study of Mosaic scriptures and the communal laws deriving from those scriptures at the center of its elite self-understanding and differentiation from the rest of Israel.”21 But the relationship between Scripture and the sect at Qumran is symbiotic; while the sect submits to Scripture’s authority it is also the case that the community provides Scripture’s telos. Scripture was partially intended for and useful to preceding generations, but its complete actualization had to await the generation in which the sect found itself. Habakkuk wrote, for example, about things that would happen to the “last generation” (i.e., the sect) and, in fact, he claims that God did not even fully disclose the timing to the prophet himself. 18 In terms of pesherite authorship, it is assumed that all sixteen were composed by different authors. See Timothy H. Lim, Holy Scripture in the Qumran Commentaries and Pauline Letters (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 11. 19 I enclose each topic in quotes because I have reservations about them insofar as I recognize the dangers of positing generalizations from texts, which can evince marked particularities and discrepancies. Since, however, this investigation’s primary concern is the Fourth Gospel and not a thorough study of Qumran, I seek merely to set the context of discussion for the reader. 20 Among those who consider the  in general, see Fitzmeyer, “Quotations,” 297–333. For Paul, see Timothy H. Lim, Holy Scripture; for the Johannine writings see James H. Charlesworth, ed., John and the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Crossroad, 1990). 21 Steven D. Fraade “Looking for Legal Midrash at Qumran,” in Biblical Perspectives: Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (ed. Michael E. Stone and Esther G. Chazon; Volume XXVIII of Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah, ed. F. García Martínez and A. S. Van der Woude; Leiden: Brill, 1998), 62–63.

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“Thus, what differentiates the covenanteers and necessitates their separation from the rest of Israel is precisely their adherence to and active engagement with God’s will (laws), as manifest to all Israel in the Torah (hrwt) and as revealed to the community alone from the Torah (hrwt).”22 The Qumranians fervently believed that they enjoyed an exclusive claim on truth as revealed by the interpretations of Scripture performed by the community’s teachers. They admitted no other legitimate interpretations.23 The same phenomenon occurs in the Fourth Gospel and Branch Davidian sects. The community believed that Torah was twofold; there were revealed things (tlgn) and hidden things (trtsn), and while all of Israel was privy to the former, the latter were reserved for the sectarians alone.24 Fishbane detects three stages with respect to the authority of Mikra at Qumran: (1) God’s revelation of the Torah to all Israel, which turned out to be less than compelling; (2) the revelation of hidden things to the sectarians through the Instructor in Torah; and the Teacher of Righteousness, thereby establishing a New Covenant, and (3) a period of New Instruction.25 The salient texts for deeming the community Torah-centered include:26 1QS 1:3, 8, 12: “[D]o what is right and proper before [God], in accordance with what He commanded through Moses and all His servants, the prophets . . . to perform the statutes of God . . . [and] to clarify their knowledge in the truth of the statutes of God.” 1QS 6:6–8: “And in the place in which the Ten assemble there should not be missing a man to interpret the law day and night, 22

Ibid., 65. “The inspired interpretations at Qumran are also authoritative insofar as it is only these interpretations, which carry the true divine intent of the Torah of Moses and the words of the prophets; i.e., it is only on the basis of the law as interpreted by the Teacher and Interpreter (and their inheritors), and only on the basis of the prophecies as interpreted by the Teacher, that God’s will can be fulfilled and known. The sectarians believed that only they were the bearers of the esoteric sense of the ancient revelations.” Michael Fishbane, “Use, Authority and Interpretation of Mikra at Qumran,” in Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading, and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity (ed. M. J. Mulder, with H. Sysling; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1988), 364. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., 365–66. 26 Fraade discusses 1QS 8:12–16; 1QS 5:7–10; 1QS 6:6–8; and 4QMMT C7–11 in “Looking,” 63–68. Fishbane addresses 1QS 1:3, 8, 12; 1QS 6:6–8; and CD 12:2–3 in “Use,” 345–46. 23

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always, one relieving another. And the Many shall be on watch together for a third of each night of the year in order to read the book, explain the regulation, and bless together.” CD 12:2–3: “[I]n any settlement where there obtains a [communal quorum of ] ten let there not be lacking a priest versed in the book of wghy.” 1QS 8:12–16: “When these become a Community in Israel in accordance with these rules, they shall separate themselves from the session of the men of deceit in order to depart into the wilderness to prepare there the Way of the Lord; as it is written: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make level in the desert a highway for our God’ (Isa 40:3). This (alludes to) the study of the Torah which he commanded through Moses to do, according to everything which he has revealed from time to time, and according to that which the prophets have revealed by his Holy Spirit.” 1QS 5:7–10: “according to everything which has been revealed from it (= the Torah) to the Sons of Zadok, the priests, who keep the covenant and seek his will, and according to the multitude of the men of their covenant, who devote themselves together to his truth and to walking in his will.” 4QMMT C7–11: “[And you know that] we have separated ourselves from the multitude of the people [and from all their impurity] and from being involved with these matters and from participating with [them] in these things. And you [know that no] treachery or deceit or evil can be found in our hand (i.e., in us), since for [these things] we give. [. . . And] we have [written] to you so that you may study (carefully) the book of Moses and the books of the Prophets and (the writings of ) David [and the events of ] ages past.” In short, “at most, we can say that the community’s collective life of regular çrdm, in the root sense of searching for and inquiring after God’s will through revealed scriptures and laws, was the social and soteriological context in which they experienced or expected such revelation to continue. . . . The Qumran community viewed itself as being doubly privileged: to be engaged in the search for God’s will and to have had it divinely revealed to them.”27 A number of people are presented as authoritative interpreters at Qumran, but the figure known as the “Teacher of Righteousness” 27

Fraade, “Looking,” 76.

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held particular sway over the group. Davies describes the community as follows: “[T]he Qumran group accepted some figure as this eschatological teacher and thus anticipated the end of days, accepted his ruling and isolated themselves from those others of their group who rejected the person’s claims. . . . I regard the yahad as a messianic sect, rather like the Nazarenes.”28 The sentence could just as appropriately describe the Branch Davidians. Whoever the “historical” interpreters of Scripture were at Qumran, I am interested in the authors as interpreters. There is tension between application and preservation when one interprets law codes or sacred texts. How can an author simultaneously be “relevant” to her community and faithful to the text? The task of the modern expositor is to elucidate with varying degrees of help from tradition.29 The Qumran texts show a range of exegetical artfulness and variety. Fraade finds sophisticated exegesis at Qumran “involving continuous commentary (pesharim) and complex interpretation of verses through the citation and interpretation of other verses.”30 Fraade has investigated the extent of evidence at Qumran for the method of midrash halakah, defined as “the explicit citation and interpretation of scripture as a source of or justification for law.”31 His conclusion is at least twofold: (1) there is very little evidence of that process whereby laws are derived from scriptural explication32 and (2) this should not surprise us, given the social construction (either actualized or ideal) of the community as evidenced by the scrolls. This is a sectarian group that depends on revelation first and foremost as its locus of authority, bequeathed through the Teacher of Righteousness or his successors. The community starts with revelation and then turns to Scripture.33 This is true of the Fourth Gospel community as well. As Bultmann noticed with perspicacity, Jesus is nothing in the Fourth Gospel if not the Revealed Revealer. In fact, the content of his revelation is simply that he himself is the revealer. And, as we will see later, the Branch Davidians operated in a similar fashion—its primary focus was on revelation as filtered through David Koresh and others before him. 28

Davies, “Prehistory,” 120. Lim, Holy Scripture, 33. 30 Fraade, “Looking,” 63. 31 Ibid., 60. 32 Fraade writes: “[L]egal midrash involving explicit biblical quotation is mainly limited to the Damascus Document, where it is the exception.” Ibid., 61. 33 According to Fraade, the Qumran community “formulated its rules in keeping with its particular socio-religious self-understanding as the elect recipient and bearer of continued divine revelation.” Ibid., 79. 29

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Pesherite Exegesis 34 Because the pesharim reflect a number of peculiar features, they have generated among scholars a (questionable) assumption that we can speak of an exegetical approach to Scripture known as “pesherite exegesis.” When the discussion turns to defining the essence of pesherite exegesis, quot homines, tot sententiae. While I cannot engage the details of that debate here, I do think it necessary to apprise the reader of some of its basic elements before presenting the analysis of Pesher Habakkuk. Any responsible use of the pesharim for purposes such as mine requires a word on the issue of genre as it relates to the pesharim, especially because the term “pesher” has been subjected to abuses of arbitrary usage.35 At the very least, the word may signify either the body of literature discovered at Qumran or the method of interpretation evinced therein. The pesharim adopt a particular biblical book as their focus and proceed to offer a continuous commentary or interpretation. So, a verse or verses will be introduced followed by the statement: “The interpretation (rçp) is . . .” and a contemporizing explanation. However, many other significances attach to the word as a result of the history of scholarship.36 Debate primarily centers on whether one should appeal to content or form when defining the genre.37 Those directing their attention to content designate the 34 Fraade warns against extrapolating too much from the pesharim to general comments on scriptural exegesis at Qumran: “Because the pesharim were among the first of the DSS discovered and published, because of their allusions to events and persons in the sect’s history, and because of their significance for the history of biblical interpretation, they have gained a prominence that has led some to regard them as defining Qumran scriptural exegesis overall. However, given the fact that they all exist in single copies and display a specific type of actualized prophetic exegesis, it would be a mistake to exaggerate their importance or to assume that they characterize the broad range of Qumran use of Scripture.” Ibid., 76 n. 57. 35 Any reader who has essayed to define “apocalyptic” or “midrash” will feel a familiar frustration when engaging the subject of “pesher.” A brief foray into the subject yields suggestions that a separate genre for pesharim is redundant. George Brooke, for example, advises scholars to consider them “Qumran midrash” (“Qumran Pesher: Towards the Redefinition of a Genre,” Revue de Qumran 10 [1979–81]: 502), while Moshe Bernstein wonders if the Isaiah pesher should actually be denominated as “florilegia from Isaiah.” (“Introductory Formulas for Citation and Recitation of Biblical Verses in the Qumran Pesharim: Observations on a Pesher Technique,” DSD 1 [1994]: 66). 36 For a brief overview of that history, see Brooke’s article “Qumran Pesher,” 483–503. 37 The relationship between pesher and midrash generates dispute as well. Brooke advocates considering pesher a sub-genre of midrash, indeed, eliminating the term entirely and assigning the appellation “Qumran midrash” rather than “Pesharim” to the texts traditionally known as such. “Qumran Pesher,” 503.

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prophetic materials, the Teacher of Righteousness’ knowledge of God’s economy of salvation, and eschatological concerns as determinative generic factors. The fact, however, that evidence for the last two features appears in other literature besides the pesharim opens the content approach to criticism. Regarding prophetic materials, the pesharim do not cover all of the prophets (which, to be sure, may be an accident of preservation) and the pesharim are not confined exclusively to the prophets when conducting exegesis. J. Carmignac distinguished two types of pesharim, continu and thematique; the former refers to those that interpret one biblical book sequentially, whereas the latter finds the author drawing from a number of biblical books concerning a particular theme.38 The first type is reflected in the collection of materials known as the pesharim while the second is merely a technique that can appear in any text, even non-Qumran texts (e.g., Paul). Pesher Habakkuk falls under the rubric of pesher continu since it provides a running commentary on Habakkuk. As noted above, generally speaking the pesharim present one or more biblical verses, signify the disjuncture between biblical citation and interpretation with the word rçp, identify the figures in the biblical text in a contemporizing fashion and, finally, provide an explanation. They proceed sequentially through the biblical book. At times, however, the author will re-quote part of the initially quoted text and elaborate. The pesherist will often focus on a particular word and assign it special significance. For instance, we learn from 1QpHab 12.3–4 that “Lebanon” and “beasts” refer to contemporary persons, namely, “the council of the community,” and “the simple of Judah,” respectively. “Lebanon” frequently signifies the Jerusalem temple due to the fact that cedars of Lebanon were used for the construction of Solomon’s Temple (1 Kgs 5:15–26). It is often purported that the Qumran community viewed itself as a “restored temple.” So, “Lebanon” refers to the community. “The simple ones of Judah” refers to the whole or a part of the community.39 Those who like to see parallels in  texts cite Paul’s treatment of sp°rma in Gal 3. 38 Though these tidy distinctions have suffered criticism, they continue to appear in most treatments of pesharim. Moshe Bernstein (“Introductory Formulas,” 63) complains about this classification system (inter alia): “. . . too much weight is placed on 1QpHab as a model, on the existence of exactly two kinds of pesharim, and on the need for pesharim to behave rather monolithically.” 39 Lim, Holy Scripture, 49.

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Timothy Lim has explored pesherite exegesis and Pauline literature. Lim addresses textual variants, original texts, Vorlagen, etc., all of which are relevant for an analysis of scriptural authority. In order to fully understand the relationship of the author to the biblical text we want to know whether the author attempted to completely preserve the original wording of the text or whether she felt free to alter wording or even paraphrase. The issue quickly becomes complicated, of course, since we do not have access to any biblical autographs, so that where differences occur it is difficult to decide whether to attribute the variance to authorial license or simply to the fact that the author uses a different text type. Lim wants to know whether or not the pesherists and Paul modified the biblical text for their own interpretive agenda. He concludes that ancient exegetes, including the pesherists and Paul, did concern themselves with “the preservation of the Word of God.”40 In analyzing their modifications of the text, Lim correctly observes that “there existed a tension between a multiplicity of interpretative forces,”41 but he does not take social factors into consideration. Lim’s concerns differ from my own in a number of ways. He focuses more on the relationship between the interpreter and his text rather than that between the interpreter and his community. In his study the biblical text is an end; in the present study it is a means. Explicit Citations Given the interest in the citation formulae of John’s Gospel (as well as Matthew’s), the introductory formulae in the pesharim warrant some attention. In addressing the use of Scripture in John I will attend to the language used in reference to both Scripture and the words of Jesus in order to better understand the authoritative nature of each. It is necessary to do the same for the Qumran texts. Scripture is referred to as that which (1) is “written” (bwtk), (2) is written in a particular book, (3) God, Moses, or a prophet has “said” (rma), “spoken” (rbd), “told” (dygh), “taught” (dml), or “announced” ([ymçh). rma, rbd, and dygh occur most often. In the pesharim, there are at least two types of formulae, those that introduce the biblical lemmas and those that introduce interpretations of the text. Within the first type, one might ask if there 40 41

Ibid., 33. Ibid., 95.

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are different formulae for introducing the lemma for the first time versus the repetition of a citation. The answer is a qualified “yes”; given the nature of the genre, i.e., a running commentary, the initial lemma is not usually introduced by a formula42 but a re-citation in the interpretive section that follows often is. With respect to 1QpHab, the latter comprises rma rça awh awk and rma rçaw. To introduce interpretations, the pesharim characteristically employ the term “pesher.” Common formulae include rbdh rçp, wrçp, and l µymyh tyrjal µgtph rçp (“the interpretation of the matter with regard to the end of days concerns”), though the last formula does not appear in 1QpHab. After turning a critical eye upon the work of Horton, Brooke, Fitzmeyer, and Divant, Moshe Bernstein arrives at the following conclusions regarding both continuous and thematic pesharim: 1) Scriptural citations in “continuous” pesharim are generally not introduced by a formula. 2) Requotation within “continuous” pesharim is a comparatively rare phenomenon, and perhaps 1QpHab, the touchstone for pesharim, is the exception rather than the rule. 3) The terminology rma rça awh ayk, rma rçaw, bwtk rçaw, and rçak bwtk is also not common in the “continuous” pesharim, with 1QpHab again misleading us regarding its frequency. 4) rma rçaw clearly has two functions in Qumran “continuous” pesharim: the introduction of previously cited text and the introduction of text not quoted before. At times, rma rçaw seems to have a resumptive effect when a text is not strictly continuous. 5) bwtk rçaw/k occur only in non-continuous pesher material of both “continuous” text and thematic types (and CD), and are usually employed to introduce previously unquoted text. This usage in continuous pesher does not seem limited to the introduction of subordinate prooftexts. 6) There are differences in significant features and qualities in citation technique and citation terminology among the “continuous” pesharim as currently defined. 7) Some of the 4QpIsa material (not only 4QpIsac) shares common phenomena with the so-called thematic pesharim, against the other socalled continuous pesharim.43

Regarding thematic pesharim, Bernstein concludes that: (1) they manifest a wider variety of formulae than the continuous pesharim; (2)

42

For possible exceptions, see Maurya P. Horgan, Pesharim: Qumran Interpretations of Biblical Books (Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association, 1979), 243 n. 53. 43 Bernstein, “Introductory Formulas,” 67–68.

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they do not always identify the source of their citation (cf. the Fourth Gospel), though usually they do; (3) rma rçaw serves a resumptive function; (4) citations from other biblical books are not always introduced with a formula; (5) some “quotations” do not match any known biblical lemma and may actually represent paraphrases (as is the case in Fourth Gospel); and (6) “Thematic persharim’s structure of citations from a central text or texts surrounded by support from other ones demands heavy usage of the subordinated prooftext formulas like _b bwtk rça awh or _rpsb bwtk rçak.”44 In 4QMMT, the form bwtk occurs eleven times but is never followed by a direct scriptural citation (B27, 38, 66, 70, 76, 77, C6, 11, 12 [twice], 21). Explicit citations often serve to substantiate a claim already made or a regulation commanded; this is otherwise known as a prooftext. Alternatively, Scripture can be cited first, followed by a comment or interpretation. A crucial feature of the explicit citations is the fact that the interpretation ascribed to the text by or for the community differs from the original meaning of the text, but the interpreter acts as though his interpretation is the “plain-sense of the Mikra.”45 Using CD 3:18–4:4, Fishbane shows how the author employs Ezek 44:15 and concludes: “[T]his passage is then explicated in terms of the sect, so that the special nature of sectarian triumphalism is justified through the Mikra. . . . Through these boldly reinterpretated [sic] citations, the communal sense of history and destiny is justified and vindicated.”46 Allusions Like the Fourth Gospel and Branch Davidian material, Qumran literature is replete with biblical phraseology and allusions. The authors of 4QMMT, CD, and 1QpHab were steeped in the biblical tradition and sought to conform their listeners to the biblical mold. Fishbane presents CD 8:7–9 as a prime example: “And they did each one what was right in his eyes and preferred each one the stubbornness of his heart, and did not withdraw from the people [of the land and their sin], but rebelled highhandedly by walking in the ways of the wicked.”47 Various phrases are reminiscent of biblical language. For 44 45 46 47

Ibid., 68. Fishbane, “Use,” 348. Ibid., 350. Ibid., 357.

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instance, “doing what is right in one’s own eyes” constantly breeds demise in Judges; “stubbornness of heart” occurs often and can be found in Deut 29:18; “the way of the wicked” recalls Ps 1; and so on.48 Wuthnow’s observation: “The special advantage of congregations, especially in the high church or liturgical traditions (and at the extreme fundamentalist end of the theological spectrum), is that they can speak largely in the distinctive language of their own subculture and do so with the authority of specialists who know this language well,”49 applies to the power of allusion in shaping these groups, a power which should not be underestimated; it is no less than supplying them a language with the concomitant power that we all know language wields in the formation of a person’s worldview.50 In addition to biblical language, Fishbane proves that authors also used biblical models as a basis for compositional forms. So, the structure of the Aaronic blessing is imitated in 1QS 2:2–10. He also refers to practices reflected in the Bible, appropriated and adapted for the community. His example is that of 1QS 2, which takes up the covenant ceremony of Deut 27:9–26.51

Analysis of Primary Sources Pesher Habakkuk 52 Col. 1 1 [Hab 1:1–2 Oracle received by the prophet Habakkuk in a vision. For how long, YHWH] do I ask for help without 2 [you hearing me; shout: Violence! to you without you saving me? The interpretation of this concerns the beg]inning of the generation 3 [. . . which will com]e upon them 4 [. . . they] will [sh]out against 5 [. . . Hab 1:3a Why do you show me misdeeds and] do you behold [to]il? Blank 6 [The interpretation of this . . . of ] God with persecution and betrayal. 7 [Hab 1:3b You set destruction and violence in front of me and brawls occur and quarrel arise]. Blank 8 [ The interpretation of this . . .] ro[bbe]ry of [. . .] and brawls 9 [. . . ar]gument and they th[ink] destruc-

48

Ibid. Wuthnow, Producing, 101. 50 In Wittgenstein’s words, “The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.” 51 Fishbane, “Use,” 357–59. 52 English translation taken from Martínez and Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, 1:11–21. 49

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tion 10 [. . .] Hab 1:4a For the Law falls into abeyance. 11 [The interpretation of this . . .] that they have rejected the Law of God. 12 [Hab 1:4bc And justice does not emerge as the winner, for the evildoer accos]ts the upright man. Blank 13 [Its interpretation: the evildoer is the Wicked Priest and the upright man] is the Teacher of Righteousness.53

This passage directs the reader to one of the loci of authority for the sect, namely, the Teacher of Righteousness (1QpHab 1:13) who is defined as the “upright man” referred to in Hab 1:4. He is contrasted with one of the sect’s preeminent enemies, the Wicked Priest (1QpHab 1:13), whom the author of the pesher confidently identifies with the “evildoer” of Hab 1:4. The Wicked Priest has been variously designated as Jonathan Maccabee, Simon Maccabee, Alexander Jannaeus, or perhaps even more than one person. The passage also reveals the sect’s assumption that Scripture finds its telos in the Qumran community itself. In 1QpHab 1:2–3, the author claims that Habakkuk prophesied “concerning the expectation of the generation of the visitation in the last days all the things that are going to come upon them.”54 One contemporizing technique used by the author of the pesher is to move facilely and unapologetically from the original prophet’s first-person statement to an interpretation which imputes a third-person significance to the prophet’s words, as he does in 1QpHab1:4–5. Col. I 14 [. . . Hab 1:4d This] is why justice emerges 15 [distorted. The interpretation of this . . .] and not [. . .] 16 [. . . Hab 1:5 Look, traitors, and behold,] 17 [be astonished, shocked, for in your time a work is done which you would not believe if ] Col. II 1 it was reported. Blank [. . . The interpretation of the word concerns] the traitors with the Man of 2 the Lie, since they do not [believe in the words of ] the Teacher of Righteousness from the mouth of 3 God; and (it concerns) the traito[rs of the] new [covenant] si[n]ce they did not 4 believe in the covenant of God [and dishonoured] his holy na[me]. 5 Likewise: Blank The interpretation of the word [concerns the trai]tors in the last 6 days. They are violator[s of the coven]ant who will not believe 7 when they hear all that is going [to happen t]o the final generation, from the mouth of 8 the Priest whom God has placed wi[thin the Commun]ity, to foretell the fulfillment of all 9 the words of his servants, the prophets, [by] means of whom God has declared 10 all that is going to happen to his people Is[rael]. 53 54

Ibid., 11. Horgan, Pesharim, 12.

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In this passage the author provides a triple interpretation and degradation of the “traitors” mentioned in Hab 1:5. First, the sobriquet points to the initial period of breaking away from the parent tradition by indicating those in the past who allied themselves with the Man of the Lie against the Teacher of Righteousness. The specific charge against the Man of the Lie and his cohort is the failure to believe the words of the Teacher of Righteousness; those who fail to believe (pisteÊv) the words of Jesus will bear serious condemnation in the Fourth Gospel. Second, the passage expresses concern for present troublemakers, namely, those who had once belonged to the sect (i.e., members of the “new covenant”) but have now defected. They are characterized as “not believing” and as “profaning the holy name.” Finally, “traitors in the last days” are potential proselytes who refuse to join the sect. Since the author labels three different groups “traitors” in 1:16–2:10, I presume that the third group listed refers to potential Jewish converts (“those of the covenant”) as opposed to the second group, which refers to defectors from the sect, those of the “new covenant” who deserted. In addition to implying the opposition faced by the sect, the passage also reveals attitudes about leaders of the group. It presents the Teacher of Righteousness as one who both warrants fidelity and belief and is privy to special insight insofar as his words are “from the mouth of God.” Furthermore, the sect’s priest emerges as a locus of authority. In this passage we learn that, just as in an earlier phase of the sect’s testimony the “traitors” referred to in Hab 1:5 were those who did not listen to the words of the Teacher of Righteousness, so also in the final days of the sect there will be traitors who do not listen to the words of the group’s ordained interpreter, the priest. In studying 1QpHab one enters an interpretive world that lends itself to Wuthnow’s dramaturgic approach to the study of culture. The whole of 1QpHab corroborates Wuthnow’s claim: In saying that culture is symbolic-expressive, therefore, this approach tends to focus less on information that is simply and straightforwardly transmitted than on messages that may be implicit in the ways in which social life is arranged, in rituals, and in the choice of words in discourse. Put simply, what is “given off ” may be as important as what is “given.”55

55

Wuthnow, Meaning, 13–14.

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The author of 1QpHab is not simply trying to inculcate a set of esoteric or philosophical ideas in his community, but to express how social relations should be arranged for God’s covenant community. 1QpHab 2:8–10 reiterates the sect’s conviction, which appears already at 1QpHab 1:2–3, that Scripture finds its telos in the Qumran community itself. Here one discovers that other prophets besides Habakkuk spoke of the community’s era. All three sects under study hold this conviction as part of their self-understanding that they alone represent the pure and true covenant community of God as indicated in Scripture. As Meeks writes of the Fourth Gospel: The claim that constitutes the identity of this special group of former Jews is that in their abiding in the Son of Man they have been granted what the whole of Israel’s scripture and tradition—both Jewish and Samaritan versions—pointed to. . . . They alone are Israel. . . . They are epitomized in one of the first of those “given by God” to Jesus, Nathanael the élhy«w ÉIsrahl¤thw. Here we have the very model of a sectarian consciousness (my italics).”56 Col. II 10b Hab 1:6 For see, I will mobilize 11 the Chaldaeans, a cruel [and deter]mined people. Blank 12 Its interpretation concerns the Kittim, wh[o ar]e swift and powerful 13 in battle, to slay many [. . .] in the kingdom of 14 the Kittim; they will take possession [of many countries] and will not believe 15 in the precepts of [Go]d [. . . Hab 1:6 They go across the earth] 16 to [take possession of dwelling not theirs. Its interpretation . . .] 17 [. . .] Col. III 1 and they will advance over the plain, to destroy and pillage the cities of the country. 2 For this is what he has said: Hab 1:6 <>. Hab 1:7 It is dreadful 3 and terrible; his judgment and his exaltation arise from himself. Blank 4 Its interpretation concerns the Kittim, the fear and dread of whom are on all 5 /the peoples;/ all their thoughts are premeditated to do evil, and with cunning and treachery 6 they behave towards all the nations. Hab 1:8 Their horses are swifter than panthers; they are keener 7 than wolves at night. Blank Their war-horses paw the ground, galop [sic], from afar 8 they come flying like an eagle, hastening to eat. Hab 1:9 All of them come to use violence; the breath of 9 their faces is like the East wind. Blank Its inter[pretation] concerns the Kittim, who 10 trample the land with [their] horse[s] and their animals 11 and come from far off, from the islands of the sea, to devour all the nations, like an eagle, 12 insatiable. With fury they are he[ated, and with] burning wrath and livid 13 faces they will speak to all [the nations. Fo]r this is what 14 he has said: Hab 1:9 The brea[th of their

56

Meeks, “Divine Agent,” 54.

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faces is like the East wind. And he gathers] captives [like sa]nd. 15 Its [interpreta]tion [. . .] 16 [. . .] 17 [. . . Hab 1:10a At kings] Col. IV 1 it sneers and leaders it mocks. Blank Its interpretation: 2 they deride the powerful and despise the honoured men; at kings 3 and princes they jeer, and sneer at a huge army. Hab 1:10b And he 4 laughs at every strong fortress, piles up earth and captures it. 5 The interpretation of this concerns the leaders of the Kittim, who despise the 6 fortresses of the peoples and with derision laugh at them, 7 they surround them with a huge army to capture them. And through dread and fear 8 they surrender to their hands, and they demolish them because of the wickedness of those who dwell 9 in them. Hab 1:11 Then the wind changes and goes on; and this one has made his might 10 his God. Blank Its interpretation [con]cerns the leaders of the Kittim, 11 who on the advice of a house of guilty [people] go by, one 12 before the other. [Their] leaders, [o]ne after another, will come 13 to raze the ea[rth. Hab 1:11 And] this one [has made] his might his God. 14 Its interpretation [. . . al]l the nations 15 [. . .]

The author interprets Habakkuk’s “Chaldeans” as Kittim who are “swift and vigorous in battle” (1QpHab 2:12–14). The author of Pesher Habakkuk spends considerable time on the Romans. The fact that they occupy more than one quarter of the commentary’s space indicates that their influence and power were immediate, imminent, ubiquitous, and produced an exigency that surely fueled the sect’s apocalyptic tendencies. Their military might is formidable (3:10–11); they are universally feared (3:4–5); they confiscate land (3:1); they unscrupulously plot evil, guided only by guile and deception; their megalomania respects no bounds. All of this they execute with burning rage and flagrant violence (3:11–12; cf. 6:10–12). Supercilious and cavalier, the Romans are identified as those who “scoff at kings, laugh at princes,” in Habakkuk’s words. We also learn a bit of history, that the Romans have ruled for some duration, when the author interprets “Then they changed, a wind, and they passed by” (Hab. 1:11), as referring to successive Roman rulers. This lengthy excoriation certifies for the sect that the Romans are vehement foes. The author never specifically identifies the Kittim as “Romans”; rather, this is an example of insider language. As we learned from Wuthnow, religious groups may effect boundary formation through “cultural exclusion,” “buttressing the scarcity of their valued goods by limiting access to them.”57 Unless one is initiated into the linguistic code of the group, she will remain an outsider. 57

Wuthnow, Producing, 38.

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Among those who suffer the derision of the Romans the author includes Israel as a whole, “a great people,” thereby indicating that he not only continues to define the sect within the parameters of the parent tradition but also still worries over the welfare of his nonsectarian fellow countrymen. The author castigates those who “betray the covenant.” By this phrase does he signify non-Qumran Jews or the Qumran sectarians? Logic suggests the latter because the author speaks in future terms. Since he has already indicated that the parent tradition patently does not keep God’s statutes and that the sect alone obeys the statutes of God, it most likely refers to defectors from the sect. Col. IV 16 [. . . Hab 1:12–13a Are you not] 17 [from of old, YHWH my holy God. We will not die. YHWH,] Col. V 1 you have appointed him to judge; Rock, you have installed him to rebuke him. Your eyes are too pure 2 to look at evil, you can not stare at calamity. Blank 3 Interpretation of the word: God is not to destroy his nation at the hand of the peoples, 4 but in the hand of his chosen ones God will place the judgment over all the peoples; and by their reproof 5 all the evildoers of his people will be pronounced guilty, (by the reproof ) of those who kept his commandments 6 in their hardship. For this is what he has said: Hab 1:13a <>. Blank Its interpretation: they have not run after the desire of their eyes in the era of 8 wickedness.

This passage defines and elevates the sect. The author is so bold as to transfer the “eyes too pure to look on evil” from God to the sectarians. The sectarians are God’s “chosen ones” (cf. 1QpHab 9:12) who are “not unfaithful.” They persevere, obeying God’s commandments (wtwwxm ta rmç) even in a time of “distress” and “wickedness.” This adherence to God’s commandments plays a central role in creating a distinct way of life for the sectarians; conversely, a chief complaint which the author has against opponents of the sect is their failure to obey God’s commandments. The sectarians are further elevated by their judicial position; they will enact judgment in a twofold capacity: they will judge both Gentiles and Jews outside the sect. Col. V 8b Hab 1:13b Why do you stare, traitors, and remain silent when 9 a wicked person consumes someone more upright than himself ? Blank Its interpretation concerns the House of Absalom 10 and the members of their council, who kept silent when the Teacher of Righteousness was rebuked, 11 and did not help him against the Man of the Lie, Blank who rejected 12 the Law in the midst of their whole Council.

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1QpHab 5:8–12 contributes to an understanding of the origins and history of the sect. The original context of this passage finds Habakkuk pondering Yahweh’s employment of the Chaldeans to punish the wicked of Israel.58 Our author, however, has interpreted the prophecy as referring to the betrayal of the founder59 and authoritative leader of the Qumran community, the Teacher of Righteousness, by those who should have defended him against the Liar (who may be the Wicked Priest, one or more of the Hasmoneans, or a rival of the Teacher of Righteousness within the community).60 The author’s interpretation of Scripture achieves a number of effects for the sect. It categorizes those of the parent tradition at the time of the sect’s break as “them,” speaking of those who “did not help” the sect’s leader, the Teacher of Righteousness. It further degrades “them” by associating them with the “Man of the Lie” and “house of Absalom,” which is defined in treacherous terms. The interpretation creates “us” through etiological means: the Teacher of Righteousness was “rebuked” by the Liar and betrayed by the men of the council. It positions the Teacher of Righteousness as one of the loci of authority and portrays him as unjustly persecuted. It reiterates the lawlessness of the Man of the Lie and his opposition to the Teacher of Righteousness.

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Lim, Holy Scripture, 98–104. Or simply “key figure,” depending on the theory to which one subscribes concerning the Teacher of Righteousness. 60 Geza Vermes, The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English (New York: Allen Lane/Penguin Press, 1997), 54: “The Teacher did not meet with unanimous approval within the congregation, and a faction described as ‘seekers of smooth things,’ ‘removers of the bounds,’ and ‘builders of the wall,’ all metaphors seeming to point to religious laxity and infidelity, turned against him and his followers. The leader of the breakaway party, though accorded a number of unflattering sobriquets, such as ‘Scoffer,’ ‘Liar,’ or ‘Spouter of Lies,’ seems to be one and the same person.” On p. 60, however, Vermes appears to identify the Liar with the Wicked Priest. Michael Knibb, The Qumran Community (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987), identifies the Liar as the leader of a breakaway group, distinct from the Wicked Priest: 7, 10, 23, 42, 71, 223, 243. Lawrence Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls: The History of Judaism, the Background of Christianity, the Lost Library of Qumran (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1994), 232: “The traitors, apparently led by the Man of Lies, were most probably straying members of the group or a competing group. In any case, this passage [1QpHab 2:1–3] shows that the teacher faced opposition from the official priesthood, but from others as well.” James VanderKam, The Dead Sea Scrolls Today (London: SPCK, 1994), 47: “The Liar seems to have been a member of the community who refused to accept what the Teacher of Righteousness claimed.” 59

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Not only here but throughout his work the author of 1QpHab exhibits an understanding of the importance of providing the group with a history of itself. This is in keeping with Wuthnow’s observations regarding the power inherent in a group’s rehearsal of its history.61 Col. V 12 Hab 1:14–16 You made man like fish of the sea, 13 like a reptile, to rule over it. All of [them] he hauls up [with a fish]-hook, catches in his net 14 and gathers in [his] tr[awl. This is why he offers sacri]fices to his net; this is why he rejoices 15 [and is hap]py [and burns incense to his trawl; since by them] his portion is fat 16 [and his food rich . . .] 17 [. . .] Col. VI 1 of the Kittim, and they gather their wealth with all their loot 2 like fish of the sea. And what it says: Hab 1:16a This is why he offers sacrifices to his net 3 and burns incense to his trawl. Blank Its interpretation: they 4 offer sacrifices to their standards and their weapons are 5 the object of their worship. Hab 1:16b Since by them his portion is fat and his food rich. 6 Its interpretation: they distribute their yoke and 7 their burden, which is their food, among all the peoples, year after year, 8 ravaging many countries. Hab 1:17 For this he continually unsheathes his sword 9 to kill peoples without pity. Blank 10 Its interpretation concerns the Kittim who will cause many to die by the edge of the sword, 11 youths, adults and old people, women and children; not even 12 children at the breast will they pity.

1QpHab 6:1–12 depicts the Romans as idolatrous insofar as they sacrifice to their military weapons and are capriciously violent. Note the interpretive move of changing the “He” of the original passage to the plural Kittim. The passage establishes the Romans as opponents. Col. VI 12 Hab 2:1–2 I will stand firm in my sentry-post, 13 I will position myself in my fortress, and I will look out to see what he says 14 to me, and what [he answers t]o my reproof. YHWH answered me 15 [and said: Write the vision; inscr]ibe it on tablets so that may run 16 [the one who reads it . . .] . . . [. . .] 17 [. . .] Col. VII 1 And God told Habakkuk to write what was going to happen 2 to the last generation, but he did not let him know the consummation of the era. 3 Blank And as for what he says: Hab 2:2 <<So that /may run/the one who reads it>>. 4 Its interpretation concerns the Teacher of Righteousness, to whom God has made known 5 all the mysteries of the words of his servants, the prophets.

This passage evinces the sect’s view of the Teacher of Righteousness as privy to special insight. Further, it once again reveals the sect’s 61

Wuthnow, Producing, 61.

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assumption that Scripture finds its telos in the Qumran community itself. The author contends that Habakkuk wrote about the community’s own era and that they are “the last generation.” Such apocalyptic eschatological notions might have encouraged the sectarians to persevere through difficulties and assured them that the apparent chaos (or “tribulation” as 1QpHab 8:2 names it) around them caused by both the parent religion and the destructive Romans was actually all subject to God’s prudence. David Koresh relied upon this technique for the Branch Davidians. Col. VII 5 Hab 2:3 For the vision has an appointed 6 time, it will have an end and not fail. Blank 7 Its interpretation: the final age will be extended and go beyond all that 8 the prophets say, because the mysteries of God are wonderful.

The notion of a “last” end time implies that the author interprets God’s action in salvation history to involve a number of end times, an idea corroborated by 1QpHab 7:12–13. In addition to successive end times, the author states that the ultimate end time, that which his own community inhabits, is prolonged according to God’s providence. Drawing upon the book of Revelation, David Koresh makes the same declaration. Such a proclamation encourages the sectarians to persevere, to understand that the long wait is not a sign of God’s abandonment, but rather God’s economy. In Koresh’s rhetoric, the prolonged period is viewed in positive, proselytizing terms so that the eschaton is protracted in order that more might be drawn into the sect. The author of 1QpHab may have the same vision. Col. VII 9 Hab 2:3b Though it might tarry, wait for it; it definitely has to come and will not 10 delay. Blank Its interpretation concerns the men of truth, 11 those who observe the Law, whose hands will not desert the service 12 of truth when the final age is extended beyond them, because 13 all the ages of God will come at the right time, as he established 14 for them in the mysteries of his prudence. Hab 2:4 See, it is conceited and does not give way 15 [his soul within him.] Blank Its interpretation: they will double upon them 16 [. . . and] find [no] mercy at being judged. [. . .] 17 [. . . Hab 2:4b But the righteous man will live because of their loyalty to him.] Col. VIII 1 Its interpretation concerns all observing the Law in the House of Judah, whom 2 God will free from the house of judgment on account of their toil and of their loyalty 3 to the Teacher of Righteousness.

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The sectarians are elevated as “men of truth” who “observe the Law” (-hrwth yçw[; 1QpHab 7:11; 8:1) and are destined for salvation62 from the “house of judgment” (fpçmh tyb; 1QpHab 8:2).63 In contrast, the opponents will endure judgment (1QpHab 7:16). The passage presents the Teacher of Righteousness as one who warrants fidelity and belief. The eschatological material serves as a thinly veiled implied exhortation to perseverance for the sectarians who are in danger of becoming deserters or have already deserted “the service of truth when the final age is extended beyond them” (1QpHab 7:11–12). As is typical of the Qumran, Branch Davidian, and Johannine communities, the chief stated reward is salvation. Col. VIII 3 Hab 2:5–6 Surely wealth will corrupt the boaster, and not 4 will he last, he who widens his throat like the abyss, and he, like death can not be satisfied. 5 All the peoples ally against him, all the nations come together against him. 6 Are they not all going to chant verses against him, explaining riddles at his expense? 7 They shall say: Ah, one who amasses the wealth of others! How long will he load himself 8 with debts? Blank Its interpretation concerns the Wicked Priest, who 9 was called loyal at the start of his office. However, when he ruled 10 over Israel his heart became proud, he deserted God and betrayed the laws for the sake of 11 riches. And he robbed and hoarded wealth from the violent men who had rebelled against God. 12 And he seized public money, incurring additional serious sin. 13 And he performed re[pul]sive acts by every type of defiling impurity. Hab 2:7–8 Will not suddenly 14 your cre[di]tors get up, and those who shake you wake up? You will be their prey. 15 Since you pillaged many peoples all the rest of the nations will pillage you. 16 Blank The in[terpretation of the word] concerns the Priest who rebelled 17 [. . .] the precepts of [God . . .] . . . [. . .] Col. IX 1 afflicting him with the punishment of sin; the horrors of 2 terrifying maladies they have acted upon him, as well as vengeful acts on his fleshly body. And what 3 it says: Hab 2:8a <<Since you pillaged many peoples all the 4 rest of the nations will pillage you>>. Blank Its interpretation concerns the last priests of Jerusalem, 5 who will accumulate riches and loot from plundering the nations. 6 However, in the last days their riches and their loot will be given into the hands 7 of the army of the Kittim. Blank For they are Hab 2:8a <>. 8 Hab 2:8b For the human blood (spilt) and the violence (done) to the country, the city and all/who dwell/in it. Blank 9 62 63

lxn appears also at 9:13 and 12:14 in 1QpHab, though negatively. tyb appears elsewhere in 1QpHab at 4:11; 5:9; 8:1; 9:12, 14; 10:3; 11:6; note

similar house language in the Fourth Gospel (ofik¤a; 14:2).

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  Its interpretation concerns the [Wi]cked Priest, whom, for the wickedness against the Teacher of 10 Righteousness and the members of his council, God delivered into the hands of his enemies to disgrace him 11 with a punishment, to destroy him with bitterness of soul having acted wickedly 12 against his elect. Woe to anyone putting ill-gotten gains in his house, placing 13 his perch high up to escape the power of evil! You have planned things that will bring disgrace 14 to your house, destroying many nations and sinning against your [so]ul. For 15 the sto[ne] will shout from the wall, the wooden beam will an[swer . . .] 16 [The interpretation of the word concerns the priest who [. . .] 17 [. . .] Col. X 1 for its stone to be by oppression and the beam of its wood by pillage. And what 2 it says: Hab 2:10 <>. Blank 3 Its interpretation: it is the house of judgment, for God will give 4 his judgment among many nations and from there will lead him to punishment. 5 And in their midst he will proclaim him guilty and will punish him with sulphurous fire. Hab 2:12–13 Woe 6 to him who builds a city with blood and founds a town on wickedness! Does 7 this not stem from YHWH of Hosts that the nations wear themselves out for fire 8 and the peoples are exhausted for nothing? Blank 9 The interpretation of the word concerns the Spreader of the Lie, who has misdirected many, 10 building a useless city with blood and erecting a community with deceit 11 for his own glory, wearing out many by useless work and teaching them 12 a[c]ts of deceit, so that their labours are for nothing; so that 13 those who derided and insulted God’s chosen will go to the punishment of fire.

This passage elevates both the sect and the Teacher of Righteousness. The author refers to the sect as God’s “elect” (1QpHab 9:12; 10:13) and announces that its maltreatment will result in divine judgment for those who persecute them.64 The Teacher of Righteousness is once again portrayed as unjustly persecuted (1QpHab 9:10).65 Maltreatment of the Teacher of Righteousness carries with it the same heavy penalty as mistreatment of the sect, that is, divine judgment (1QpHab 9:10–12). Additionally, the passage indicates opponents of the group and judgment against them. The Wicked Priest is a Ruler of Israel who previously was not an opponent of the group (he was “called by the true name at the beginning of his course”); however, he became “arrogant,” apostatized, “betrayed the statutes,” and stole on account 64 Just as fidelity to the Teacher of Righteousness brings salvation and rejection brings divine judgment. 65 Cf. 1QpHab 5:9–12; 11:4–6.

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of greed (cf. 1QpHab 12:10). The author identifies him with “the one who multiplies what is not his own” in Hab 2:6. All of these characteristics remind the sectarians that the Priest is indeed an opponent. The Jerusalem priests comprise another opponent (1QpHab 9:4). Hab 2:8a says, “For you have plundered many nations, but all the rest of the peoples will plunder you.” In the author’s estimation, “you” refers to the last priests of Jerusalem who, like the Wicked Priest, have amassed ill-gotten wealth; like the Wicked Priest, they will be punished for it particularly by the Romans, who are indicated as “the rest of the peoples.” The Wicked Priest receives punishment (1QpHab 9:1–2, 9–12); the last priests of Jerusalem likewise (1QpHab 9:4–7). The former appears to have already occurred while the latter awaits fruition from the author’s perspective. Notice that 1QpHab 9:4–6 presents the Romans as instruments of God wielded to punish Jerusalem priests. This is the only reference to the Kittim that does not revile them. Finally, named among the opponents of the sect is the Spreader of the Lie and his followers (1QpHab 10:9), who traffic in deceit, violence, and paths of error, lead to judgment. Col. X 14 Hab 2:14 For the earth will become full of the knowledge of YHWH’s glory just as water 15 fills the sea. Blank Interpretation of the word: 16 in his return [. . .] 17 [. . .] Col. XI 1 the Lie. Afterwards, knowledge will be revealed to them, as plentiful as the water 2 in the sea. Hab 2:15 Woe to anyone making his companion drunk, spilling out 3 his anger, or even making him drunk to look at their festivals! 4 Blank Its interpretation concerns the Wicked Priest who 5 pursued the Teacher of Righteousness to consume him with the heat 6 of his anger in the place of his banishment. In festival time, during the rest 7 of the day of Atonement, he appeared to them, to consume them 8 and make them fall on the day of fasting, the sabbath of their rest. Hab 2:16 Your are more glutted 9 with disgrace than with glory. Drink up also and stagger! 10 The cup of YHWH’s right hand will turn against you and disgrace come 11 upon your glory. Blank 12 Its interpretation concerns the Priest whose disgrace exceeded his glory 13 because he did not circumcise the foreskin of his heart and has walked on paths of 14 excessiveness to slake his thirst; but the cup of 15 [Go]d’s anger will consume him, increasing [. . .]his [dis]grace. And the pain 16 [. . .]

The passage portrays the Teacher of Righteousness as unjustly persecuted. In castigating the Wicked Priest, the author reminds the sect of the abominability of its opponent’s deeds.

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This passage also depicts the sect as privileged to receive “revealed knowledge,” a feature which all of the three groups under study share. It also indicates some of the liturgical/ritual practices, namely, the observance of the Day of Atonement, the sabbath, and fasting. That juxtaposition of “new” (i.e., “revelation”) and “old” (i.e., observance of traditional Jewish rituals) depicts well the “in-between” nature of a sect. At one and the same time, it both defines itself over against the parent tradition and capitalizes on its connection to that tradition. As previously presented, both Wuthnow and Swidler have discussed the naturalness and advantages enjoyed by a group which ties itself to a culture or institution which is traditionally associated with the sacred. Col. XI 17 [Hab 2:17 For the violation of Lebanon will cover you, and the destruction of animals] Col. XII 1 will appal [sic] you, owing to the human blood and the violence (done to) the country, the city and all who dwell there. 2 The interpretation of the word concerns the Wicked Priest, to pay him the 3 reward for what he did to the poor. Because Lebanon is 4 the Council of the Community and the animals are the simple folk of Judah, those who observe 5 the Law. God will sentence him to destruction, Blank 6 exactly as he intended to destroy the poor. And as for what he says: Hab 2:27 <>. Its interpretation: the city is Jerusalem 8 in which the/Wicked/Priest performed repulsive acts and defiled 9 the Sanctuary of God. The violence (done to) the country are the cities of Judah which 10 he plundered of the possessions of the poor.

This passage exemplifies a number of aspects of the author’s exegetical technique. First, the author contemporizes overtly and unabashedly, applying Habakkuk’s references to his own community so that “Lebanon” is the community’s council and the “beasts” are the simple ones of Judah. Second, while on the one hand the author demystifies the text by providing such explicit equations, on the other hand he remystifies by speaking in his own “code,” which draws upon biblical idiom. So, rather than simply stating, “Alexander Jannaeus66 treated the members of our sect poorly,” he says, “The Wicked Priest persecuted ‘the poor ones’ ”; Habakkuk’s “beasts” are not described as “our Qumran community,” but rather in other cryptic terms, namely “the simple ones of Judah.” However the author chooses to denote

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To whom the title refers remains uncertain.

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his group, he clearly defines and elevates them both as obedient to the Law and as persecuted. Through incisive invective, the author reminds the sect of the heinousness of its opponent’s, the Wicked Priest’s, deeds. In addition, the passage assures the sectarians that, despite present appearances, God exacts judgment justly; the author accomplishes this by prophesying that God will mete out the same punishment upon the Wicked Priest as the latter attempted to inflict upon the sectarians, namely, “complete destruction.” Finally, the author claims that the Wicked Priest’s sphere of influence extends from Jerusalem to the cities of Judah. Col. XII 10 . . . Hab 2:18 What use is the sculpture which the craftsman carves, 11 (or) the cast effigy and sham oracle, in whom their craftsman trusts, 12 to make dumb idols? The interpretation of the word concerns all the 13 idols of the peoples which they made, to serve them and bow down 14 for them. But they will not save them on the day of Judgment. Hab 2:19–20 Woe, 15 wo[e, to anyone saying] to wood: Wake up! and to a silent [st]one: G[et up!] 16 [Can it instruct? It is covered with gold and silver, but no] 17 [spirit at all is therein. But YHWH is in his holy Temple.] Col. XIII 1 Silence in his presence, all the world! Its interpretation concerns all the peoples 2 which serve stone and wood. However, on the day 3 of judgment God will destroy all the worshippers of idols, 4 and the wicked, from the earth. Blank 5–15 Blank

The author presents “the nations” as enemies of the sect at 1QpHab 12:10–13:4. They cannot destroy God’s people; rather, they are to be judged by the Qumran community. They are idolatrous and as such they will be judged by God on the “day of judgment.” 1QpHab as we have it ends on a note of judgment. Previously the author has assured the sectarians that God would deal harshly with their opponents within the parent tradition; now he turns his attention to Gentile enemies and, finally, casting his net widely to include them all, he predicts judgment on “all evil ones.” The Damascus Document The year 1896 marked Solomon Schechter’s discovery of the Damascus Document (CD) in a Cairo genizah. Two manuscripts, A and B, comprise that document, the former containing sixteen columns (CD 1–16) and the latter two columns (CD 19–20). Typically scholars divide CD into the Admonition (1–8; 19–20) and the Laws (9–16). With the discovery of the Qumran cache, new evidence of the

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document appeared primarily in the form of eight incomplete  (4Qda–h or 4Q266–273).67 Of these eight, 4Q266 and 4Q270 contain the most material. After reconstructing 4QD it appears that it contained not only all of the Cairo material but additional material as well. I have chosen to use the Admonition as a sounding into the text, canvassing CD 1–8 and 19:33b–20:34 for evidence.68 Johnathan Campbell’s monograph on the use of Scripture in CD serves as my primary guide.69 With respect to CD, Campbell’s introduction implies that he has made similar observations, discovered similar gaps in scholarship, and asks some of the same questions I do with respect to the Fourth Gospel. For example, he notes the near impossibility of determining which came first, a consideration of Scripture followed by a particular interpretation or a group’s ideas projected onto Scripture. As the premise of my investigation should reveal, while I think the two work in tandem, common sense should prevent us from underestimating the latter. He also makes an astute sociological observation about scriptural interpretation in Second Temple Judaism: What does it mean for a religious group in the second century ..., or perhaps earlier, to consider its message as stemming from the Bible? In one way or another, such would be the case for almost any group of observant Jews of the time, for it is arguable that, from at least the second century onwards, the inner tensions and conflicts within Second Temple Judaism centered largely on competing claims to represent a valid interpretation of the one commonly received corpus of revelation.70

When he actually commences analysis of texts, however, our aims diverge, his being the identification of scriptural texts alluded to in seven sections of CD. Beyond indicating that the author was intentional about his usage of Scripture and identifying certain scriptural passages which exert a widespread influence on the document, Campbell rarely ventures into questions of social history. When he 67

Caves 5 and 6 yielded a few fragments as well. CD 19:1–33a, found in  B, presents multifarious difficulties. For the most part, it duplicates 7:5b–8:21 of  A, but there are perplexing difficulties, the explanation of which has prompted much scholarly discussion but no indubitable conclusions. For a concise introduction to the subject, see Campbell, Use, 152–60. Since I have included an investigation of 7:5b–8:21, I will not attend to 19:1–33a, as it adds nothing to my conclusions. 69 The text of CD itself, however, will be quoted from Martínez and Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, 1:551–81. 70 Campbell, Use, 9. 68

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does, he simply makes a provocative comment here or there but fails to pursue a social-historical line of questioning.71 Much scholarly attention has been devoted to the redactional history of the text, especially given the irreconcilable or contradictory elements apparent in the triple-presentation of the sect’s history in the Admonition at 1:1–2:1; 2:14–4:12a; and 5:15b–6:11a. My investigation does not depend significantly upon the proper designation of each stratum. As I have noted regarding the Fourth Gospel, the final form commands attention for two reasons. First, mine is a quest for the social function of the use of Scripture embodied in the text rather than a strictly literary inquiry into issues of form, structure, etc. The second point results from the first, namely, the ancient community used and preserved these texts, with all of the seams and discrepancies that discomfit the modern reader, so I do not presume that the discrepancies are a “problem to be solved”; at most they are an inroad to further insight about how the texts functioned for ancient groups. Because my question is one step removed from the “narrative level” of the text, I am under no compunction to harmonize the various details, but only to suggest what the author (or authors if the text represents various phases of the sect’s existence) is trying to accomplish as a shaper of this sect’s imagination, Weltanschauung, and practices.72 To be sure, it is necessary to have a general understanding of what the author intends at the “narrative level” in order to determine what he is trying to achieve for his group. So, when the author refers to someone as “the scoffer” it is important to recognize that he refers to a leader of Israel, but whether the leader is Jannaeus or Simon or represents both at the same time does not affect my project significantly.

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I recommend the book as a compendium of citations and allusions in the seven sections of CD that he treats. By analogy it serves a purpose similar to NestleAland’s Appendix III: Loci Citati Vel Allegati. Campbell’s presentation also provides excellent bibliography and touches briefly on some textual problems in light of the discovery of the   relevant to CD. The lack of a concordance renders a quick comparison of terminology in the document difficult. 72 That at least one other scholar deems the enterprise worthy or possible is indicated by Campbell’s comment as he turns from an analysis of sources behind the so-called “historical” sections to what he calls the “midrashic” sections: “Indeed, the remainder of the Admonition can be characterized by its immediate, practical interest, expressed very largely through the direct quotation and interpretation of Scripture.” Campbell, Use, 105.

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What does matter relative to the historical sections of CD and the origins of the sect is this: “[P]art-way through the story there is a shift from ancient Israel to the formation and development of the group behind the Admonition. Thus, the story of the [sic] God’s involvement with biblical Israel culminates in the establishment of the community commended in CD 1–8 and 19–20. . . .”73 As with the Fourth Gospel and 4QMMT, I deal primarily with direct citations introduced by a formula not because loud allusions and soft echoes do not matter, but simply to avoid undertaking the unfeasible task of discussing every citation, allusion, and echo in the texts.74 Col. I (= 4Q266 2 I–II) 10b And God appraised their deeds, because they sought him with an undivided heart, 11 and raised up for them a Teacher of Righteousness, in order to direct them in the path of his heart. Blank. And he made known 12 to the last generations what he had done for the last generation, the congregation of traitors. 13 These are the ones who stray from the path. This is the time about which it has been written: Hos 4:16 <>, when <> (ˆwxlh çya) arose, who poured out over Israel 15 waters of lies and made them stray into a wilderness without path, causing the everlasting heights to sink down, diverging 16 from tracks of justice and removing the boundary with which the forefathers had marked their inheritance, so that 17 the curses of his covenant would adhere to them, to deliver them up to the sword carrying out the vengeance 18 of the covenant. For they sought easy interpretations (twqljb wçrd), chose illusions, scrutinised 19 loopholes, chose the handsome neck, acquitted the guilty and sentenced the just, 20 violated the covenant, broke the precept, banded together against the life of the just man, their soul abominated all those who walk 21 in perfection, they hunted them down with the sword and provoked the dispute of the people. And kindled was the wrath of Col. II (= 4Q266 2 II) God against their congregation, laying waste all its great number, for their deeds were unclean in front of him.75

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Ibid., 202. Nevertheless, Campbell’s warning is prudent: “[W]e should avoid overemphasizing the role of quotations, since no consistent criteria can be detected which determined whether a reference to the Bible should be overt or subtle. Thus, for example, while no text from Jer is cited, our survey shows clearly that it would be wrong to suggest that Jer 23, 25, 27 are any less important in the Admonition than, say, Hos 3–4, from which verses are quoted. On the other hand, some passages that appear peripheral, when set against the entire body of influential texts, are cited by the author, as in the case of Mal 1:10 in CD 6:12. An acknowledgement of overt Bible usage only, therefore, could lead the student of CD in the wrong direction.” Ibid., 178. 75 CD speaks of a shoot of the planting (t[fm çrwç); the Fourth Gospel speaks 74

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CD 1:1–2:1 has spawned much debate in which scholars take turns supplying referents for the author’s cryptic designations and propose various theories for the historical development of the group. Campbell has identified no less than fifty biblical allusions in CD 1:1–2:1, most of which are related to the exile. He barely mentions the direct citation in his discussion, however, which remains at an abstract level and does not venture into the social. He does little more than present his case justifying why he detects an allusion here or there. All of his discussion leads only to this conclusion: “Such data lead us to different conclusions than those of some scholars. Indeed, it may be conjectured that considerable care went into forming the narrative of CD 1:1–2:1, whatever is to be made of the historical problems outlined above. Further analysis of the rest of CD . . . is now in order to determine whether the same applies to the remainder of the Admonition.”76 It is clear that the author inveighs against a leader of Israel, the scoffer, who is described in terms which contrast with the Teacher of Righteousness in 1:11. This person had considerable power inasmuch as he successfully led “Israel” astray into “a wilderness without path” (˚rd al whwtb µ[ty) as compared with the Teacher of Righteousness who was sent “to direct them in the path of his heart” (wbl ˚rdb µkyrdhl). As in 1QpHab, the opponents are here characterized as breaking the precepts of the Torah (CD 1:20), and the author confidently predicts that divine judgment awaits them (CD 1:16–17; 1:21–2:1). Furthermore, like his 1QpHab counterpart, the author of CD expresses certainty that the biblical texts were written about the author’s own time and predicted that those of the parent tradition would be led astray. As I observed in our other texts, when the author lambastes those of the parent tradition, he bestows his greatest calumny upon the leaders of Israel who cause Israel to stray. Col. III (= 4Q269 2) 7 to them in Qadesh: Deut 9:23 <. But they preferred the desire>> of their spirit, and did not listen to 8 the voice of their creator, the precepts he had taught them, and murmured in their tents. of Jesus as the vine and the Christians as the branch; such language is adopted by the Adventist sectarians, the Branch Davidians. It would be worthwhile to see if this kind of language is typical for sectarians or whether it is ubiquitous in JudeoChristian history at large. 76 Campbell, Use, 66.

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Through this retrospective historical recounting, the author uses Scripture to create “them,” to explain the nature of the opponents now by looking to the past where the sectarians can see the inexorability of the present situation. The opponents, like God’s opponents of old, opposed God’s precepts and “murmured.”77 Col. III 20 . . . Those who remained steadfast in it will acquire eternal life, and all the glory of Adam is for them. As 21 God swore to them by means of Ezekiel the prophet, saying: Ez 44:15 <>.

In the immediate context the author recounts Israelite history for exemplary purposes so that his readers may despise evil and choose rightly.78 As with Pesher Habakkuk and the Fourth Gospel, revelation plays a central role for the small group of the faithful. CD 3:10–12 indicates that salvation depends on adherence to the sect, a group characterized as “holding fast to the law.” The author of CD presents the biblical text in an altered form by adding a waw before µywlh and qwdx ynb thereby creating three groups where there had been one; he then identifies them. The MT of Ezek 44:15 reads:

yl'[+ y; îq, la,rc: y] AI yneB] twº[to B] i y!vDi q ; m] i tr,mº v, m] Ai ta, Wr⁄mv] ; rv! a, } qwdøfix; yneB] µYwI⁄i lh] ' µyn!hI K} hø w' “ 79 hwhy ynda µan µd+w: : bl, j¢e y!li byràq i h] l' ] yn" p;fi l] Wd¢m][;w“ ynI t- er]vâ;lø] yl`'ae Wbàr“q]yI hM; I hì e The three groups are described in the following terms: “The priests are converts of Israel, who left the land of Judah; and the levites are those who joined them; and the sons of Zadok are the chosen of Israel, the men of renown, who stand (to serve) at the end of days” (CD 4:2–4). Though the exact determination of these groups and which historical phase they allude to remains elusive, the author 77 The student of the Fourth Gospel notes a similar accusation on the part of the Johannine sectarian author against the parent tradition in John 6. 78 “Thus, by knowing what went wrong with previous generations, as far back as the Watchers, as well as why and to what effect, the reader can choose aright so as to avoid the same fate.” Campbell, Use, 68. 79 “But the levitical priests, the descendants of Zadok, who kept the charge of my sanctuary when the people of Israel went astray from me, shall come near to me to minister to me; and they shall attend me to offer me the fat and the blood, says the Lord GOD” (NRSV).

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intends to signify the sect and reveal something of its establishment, the fact that it broke away or withdrew from the parent tradition. As Campbell notes, “The biblical verse, featuring the qwdx ynb once more, is used to prove that the community was raised up to inherit the covenantal promises.”80 The sectarians are elevated as “men of renown,” an elect group, and they operate within a history which is drawing to a close. The eschatological note may serve a two-fold purpose. If we were to assume that the author wrote in part for potential proselytes, we might cite this as an example of the use of Scripture for persuading them to join the sect, since at CD 3:10–12 we learn that anyone outside the sect (house of Judah),81 “when the period corresponding to the number of these years is complete,” will fare poorly. At this point the author only expresses concern for Israelites who do not join the sect, ignoring Gentiles. The author displays an overt interest in boundaries, here depicted as a “wall” which divides insiders and outsiders (CD 4:12). If we assume that the author expects only the sectarians to read the text, we must assume that the ostensible interest in proselytizing is a backhanded way of encouraging present members to continue to adhere to the sect. Of course, it does not have to be an either/or; the author could have more than one group in mind, though I suspect that the sect is the main audience. Certainly that is how the rhetoric works for David Koresh. Col. IV 12 . . . And during all these years 13 Belial will be set loose against Israel, as God has said by means of the prophet Isaiah, son of 14 Amoz, saying: Isa 24:17 <<Panic, pit and net against you, earthdweller>>.

In the previous verses the author has warned that the time for joining the sect, “the house of Judah,” is growing short and those who remain outside should expect divine judgment. In this passage the author declares God’s judgment and punishment upon Jewish nonsectarians and acts as though the claim that God will enact it by means of Belial is a natural interpretation of the Isaiah text and that the time frame implied is the sect’s own. The author degrades the Jewish opponents by interpreting Isaiah’s “net” as three nets: fornication, wealth, and defilement of the temple. 80

Campbell, Use, 83. Once again, we see evidence of the importance of belonging to the right “house.” Cf. n. 63 above. 81

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  Col. IV 19b The builders of the wall who go after Zaw—Zaw is the preacher 20 of whom he said: Mic 2:6 <>— are caught twice in fornication: by taking 21 two wives in their lives, even though the principle of creation is Gen 1:27 <<male and female he created them>>. Col. V (= 4Q266 3 II; 4Q267 2) 1 And the ones who went into the ark Gen 7:9 <<went in two by two into the ark>>. Blank And about the prince it is written: 2 Deut 17:17 <>.82

This passage actually contains three direct quotations but as they are so closely related it seems best to present them together. The author applies Micah’s words, indicating a plural subject, to an individual, Zaw,83 who must be an influential leader among the non-sectarian Jews who teaches his followers to break the law through polygyny.84 The author amasses scriptural evidence to support his stated view. Col. V 8b But Moses said: Lev 18:13 <>. The law of incest, 10 written for males, applies equally to females. . . .85

Here the author deploys Scripture to degrade his Jewish opponents by once again accusing them of violating the law, this time through incest. In so doing, he implies ethical regulations for his own group. Given the perennial claim about the absence of women at Qumran, CD contains surprising material, such as this concern to apply the 82

Because they do not contain an introductory formula, Campbell (Use, 125) considers Gen 1:27 and 7:9 “virtual quotations.” 83 Regarding the identity of this figure Campbell writes: “Another possibility is to identify the wx with the ˆwxlh çya of CD 1:14, because both contexts utilize the epithet πyfm. He may then be equated with one of the Maccabee brothers, so that the ≈yth ynwb are then literally ‘builders’ of Jerusalem in the mid-second century ..., working under his command. Numerous other theories of identification have, of course, been put forward,” Ibid., 122. Perhaps this figure is synonymous with that of 1QpHab 10:9, since both opponents are designated as πyfm. If so, we may add this as evidence for the Man of Lies. 84 The brevity and, to the modern reader uninitiated in the sect, obscurity in the invocation of the Micah passage reminds us that a thorough study of the biblical texts in their original context would shed even greater light on how the author deploys Scripture. For instance, Campbell, who treats allusions as well as direct citations, lists Mic 2 as a text which considerably influences at least the three historical sections in the Admonition. 85 Were the text of CD presented here extended to include vv. 13ff., we would note the “virtual quotation” of Isa 59:5: “They hatch adders’ eggs, and weave the spider’s web; whoever eats their eggs dies, and the crushed egg hatches out a viper,” and Isa 50:11a: “But all of you are kindlers of fire, lighters of firebrands.” This serves, quite obviously, to degrade the Jewish opponents.

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law of incest to females though the original text clearly does not take that step.86 Col. VI 2b And he raised from Aaron men of knowledge and from Israel 3 wise men, and made them listen. And they dug the well: Num 21:18 <>. The well is the law. And those who dug it Blank are 5 the converts of Israel, who left the land of Judah and lived in the land of Damascus, 6 all of whom God called princes, for they sought him, and their renown has not been repudiated 7 in anyone’s mouth.

The original text finds God miraculously providing water to the Israelites as they travel to Moab and Ammon and it follows closely upon the heels of the bronze serpent stories.87 The author interprets and applies this to his own community. He elevates the sectarians as princes of renown who are above repudiation. It bespeaks the sect’s history, withdrawal, and separation from the parent tradition apparently due to issues concerning the law. The boldness of the author’s language implies a profound disagreement as he claims that the sectarians actually dug the well, which is the law. It is not the case that the sectarians and the parent tradition agree on the fundamentals of the law and differ on a few minor points; rather, so drastic is the disparity that the author uses language of something “new” (çdj; v. 19) being inaugurated. The author’s use of “land of Damascus” reminds the reader that, like the Branch Davidians, the Qumran community resided in a location physically separate from any other community. This is one overt way to draw boundaries and mark off the sacred from the profane. Indeed, in addition to rituals, dress, and distinctive behavior, “architecture” is one feature of congregational life to which sociologists of religion point when studying how religious groups draw boundaries. Col. VI 7b And the staff ( qqwjmh) is the interpreter of the law (hrwth çwrd), of whom 8 Isaiah said: Isa 54:16 <>. Blank And the nobles of the people are 9 those who came to dig the well with the staves that the sceptre decreed, 10 to walk in them throughout the whole age of wickedness, and without which they will not obtain it, until there arises 11 he who teaches justice (qdxh hrwy) at the end of days. 86

Cf. CD 3:6–9. Both the divinely supplied water and the bronze serpent incident pique the interest of the student of the Fourth Gospel. 87

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Now the author uses Scripture to interpret Scripture. Isaiah illuminates Numbers to the effect of describing a leader of the sectarians, here called hrwth çwrd.88 How the qqwjmh, hrwth çwrd, and hrwy qdxh are related and whether or not they represent the same historical figure is debatable,89 but for our present purposes it is clear that the Teacher of Righteousness is an eschatological figure upon whom correct observance of the law depends. The leader (or leaders) described here is divinely ordained and privy to special insight by which he leads the sectarians.90 Col. VI 11b But all those who have been brought into the covenant 12 shall not enter the temple to kindle his altar in vain. They will be the ones who close 13 the door, as God said (la rma rça): Mal 1:10 <<Whoever amongst you will close my door Blank so that you do not kindle my altar 14 in vain!>>. They should take care to act in accordance with the exact interpretation of the law for the age of wickedness: to keep apart 15 from the sons of the pit; to abstain from wicked wealth which defiles, either by promise or by vow, 16 and from the wealth of the temple and from stealing from the poor of the people, making widows their spoils 17 and murdering orphans; to separate unclean from clean and differentiate between 18 the holy and the common; to keep the sabbath day according to its exact interpretation, and the festivals 19 and the day of fasting, according to what was discovered (axm) by those who entered the new covenant (hçdjh tyrbh) in the land of Damascus (qçmd).

The author applies the words of Malachi to the sect, once again indicating that it is the sectarians who are alluded to in the text; that they should strictly observe the law and maintain clear boundaries. There is concern for ritual practices such as sabbath observance, fasting, and festival days. The opponents are degraded as “sons of the pit” and are presumably Jewish, given the implication that they are associated with the ill-gotten wealth of the temple. The 88 Whether or not this figure is synonymous with the Teacher of Righteousness is debatable. 89 As is the relationship between the citation of Num 21:18 at 6:3–4 and the citation of Isa 54 here. Campbell (Use, 97) suggests that “the significance of the citation in CD 6:8 probably relates to mention of the qqwjm, for it would appear that the ylk in Isa 54:16 has been taken as a parallel to qqjm in Nu 21:18.” 90 It is unlikely that the interpreter of the law and the Teacher of Righteousness are identical in the author’s scheme, as the former refers to a former stage of the sect and the latter to a later figure. It may even be that one or both are functional terms rather than titles or personal code names. The point, however, lies in the fact that this use of Scripture tells us something about the loci of authority in the group and the ordained nature of the leaders.

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passage further substantiates the observation above that opponents, Jew or Gentile, are generally defamed as greedy, law-breaking, violent people. The clichéd nature of the accusation detracts somewhat from the likelihood of its historical accuracy, but accuracy of the degradation is irrelevant for my purposes. The passage elevates the sectarians as those who have “discovered” something of God’s plan and belong to a “new” covenant with God. They define themselves as those who have withdrawn to the “land of Damascus,” a phrase that constitutes insider language. Col. VII 6b And if they reside in camps in accordance with the rule of the land, and take 7 women and beget children, they shall walk in accordance with the law Blank and according to the regulation 8 of the teachings, according to the rule of the law, as he said: Num 30:17 <>.

The author appears to use Scripture here either to justify a practice among the sectarians or to command it. Col. VII 9b But (for) all those who despise: when God visits the earth in order to empty over them the punishment of the wicked, 10 when there comes the word which is written in the words of Isaiah, son of Amoz, the prophet, 11 who said: Isa 7:17 < come since the day Ephraim departed from Judah>>. When the two houses of Israel separated, 13 Ephraim detached itself from Judah, and all the renegades were delivered up to the sword; but those who remained steadfast 14 escaped to the land of the north. Blank As he said Am 5:26–27 <>. Blank The books of the law are the Sukkat 16 of the King, as he said Am 9:11 <>. Blank The King 17 is the assembly; and the Kiyyune of the images are the books of the prophets, 18 whose words Israel despised. Blank And the star is the Interpreter of the law, 19 who will come to Damascus, as is written: Num 24:13[sic], 24:17 <>. The sceptre is the prince of the whole congregation and when he rises he will destroy 21 all the sons of Seth. Blank These escaped at the time of the first visitation Col. VIII 1 while the renegades were delivered up to the sword. Thus will be the judgment of all those entering his covenant but who 2 do not remain steadfast in them; they shall be visited for destruction at the hand of Belial. This is the day 3 when God will make a visitation.91 91

Campbell, Use, 132 n. 77: “There are marked differences between Mss A and

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Because these three instances of direct citation are so interrelated, it is best to treat them together. While a thorough exegesis of this rather complicated passage cannot be undertaken here, some information relevant to our task can be gleaned. The author uses the first scriptural citation to predict judgment, though without the following text it is not quite clear upon whom that judgment will fall. The first three scriptural citations yield the following contention on the author’s part: at an earlier phase the sect, Ephraim, broke away from the parent tradition, Judah, and God’s favor was upon the former (and wrath upon the latter), so much so that God chose to entrust the books of the Law and the prophets to the small but “steadfast” sect. In escaping to the “north” the sect allegedly went to Damascus (a term used numerous times in this document to designate the sect). The opponents, Israel, are defamed as “despisers of the law.” God did not leave the sect bereft of leadership but supplied an Interpreter of the Law as well as a “prince of the whole congregation”92 whose main purpose lies in the destruction of those who have apostatized from the sect, the sons of Seth. Garfinkel’s work concerning degradation ceremonies resurfaces here as the author wants to show that it is not simply the case that these apostates were firm believers who somehow fell away, but rather that they never really were what they appeared to be. They never were essentially “one of us” but imposters who somehow were fortunate enough not to be discovered during the first visitation. Their luck, however, has run out, and the author assures the group that these apostates will suffer greatly.93 Col. VIII 8b They did not keep apart from the people and have rebelled with insolence, 9 walking on the path of the wicked ones, about whom God says: Deut 32:33 <>. Blank The serpents are the kings of the peoples Blank and the wine is 11 their paths, and the asps’ poison is the head of the kings of Greece, who comes to carry out vengeance against them.

B in CD 7:9b–8:2a and 19:5b–14, respectively. This chiefly concerns the biblical texts chosen for proof and illustration. Ms A uses Is 7:17; Am 5:27a; and Nu 24:17, whereas Ms B employs Zec 13:7 and Ez 9:4.” Ms A is followed in this study. 92 I do not include this figure under leaders of the group because I suspect he is a supernatural eschatological figure. 93 I do not exclude the possibility that the author also uses Scripture to predict judgment on non-sectarian Jews as well, since he presumably addresses “all despisers” (µysawmh); however, a closer reading of the text implies greater concern with apostates.

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Col. VIII 14 And what Moses said: Deut 9:5 <>. 16 Blank And thus is the judgment of the converts of Israel, who turned aside from the path of the people: on account of God’s love for 17 the forefathers, who following him, he loves those who come after them, because to them belongs 18 the fathers’ covenant.

This appears to announce judgment for apostates from the sect. Campbell claims that it signifies election of the sect and reassures the sectarians that “as God loved the µynçar, so too does he love µhyrja µyabh.”94 Col. XX 13b And from the day 14 of the gathering in of the unique teacher, until the end of all the men of war who turned back 15 with the man of lies, there shall be about forty years. Blank And in this age the wrath 16 of God will be kindled against Israel, as he said: Hos 3:4 <>.

The author denounces one of the leaders of Israel as the Man of Lies and foretells God’s judgment upon those who follow him, especially apostates. This wrathful judgment contrasts with the abundant blessings to be enjoyed by the sectarians themselves (CD 20:17ff.). The citation substantiates the author’s own view that the sect is the proper recipient of God’s love and covenant. 4QMMT 4QMMT’s fragmentary condition necessitates a considerable amount of reconstruction, which leaves ample room for debate and circumspection and little room for claims of certainty. The editors often depend on other Qumran texts, especially the Temple Scroll, in their reconstruction. The reconstructed nature of the text does not jeopardize my undertaking, however, because enough is certain to make general claims about how Scripture functioned socially for the people related to this text. The author alludes both directly and indirectly to Scripture and does so intentionally. Just as the entirety of 1QpHab purports to be merely an interpretation of the biblical text, so also 4QMMT claims that it contains “some 94

Campbell, Use, 148.

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of the rulings according to the precepts of the Torah.” Conceivably, then, one might chart the whole text on the table, since the author presents the text as an explication of part of the Bible. Unlike 1QpHab, however, this text does not systematically quote Scripture and then explicate it. It is best, therefore, to stick to explicit references to Scripture either in the form of citations introduced by a formula or in the form of more general reference to Scripture such as “the books of Moses, the precepts of Torah,” etc.95 Those references appear at: B 9–11 (GM 12–14); B 27–35 (GM 30b–38); B37–38 (GM 40–41); B 66–67 (GM 69B–73a); B 70 (GM 73b); B 75–76 (GM 78–79a); B 76–77 (GM 79b–80a); B 77–78 (GM 80b); C 6–7 (GM 91b); C 12 (GM 97a), C 12 (GM 97b–102); C 17 (GM 103–106a); C 20 (GM 106b–107a).96 At the “narrative level,” so to speak, the author ostensibly composes the letter in order to persuade the recipient to adopt the precepts and practices of the author’s community. The fact that numerous copies of the letter were found among the texts preserved at Qumran implies that it secondarily (or even primarily if the letter form was a rhetorical rather than actual device) may have served to inculcate or validate certain beliefs and practices at Qumran. How does the use of Scripture achieve the ostensible purposes of the author and how might it have reinforced the community’s own practices and beliefs? Before those questions are answered, attention to a number of points regarding the overall nature of the letter vis-à-vis Scripture is in order. First, the High Priest issue. If the letter was, in fact, penned for the eyes of the High Priest (and I remain skeptical about this), then one could say that the entire letter reveals opposition from the parent religion, especially the High Priest/Wicked Priest, but also all Jews who break Torah precepts as defined by the sect’s leaders. Second, because the author wants to prove that the sectarians observe Scripture’s precepts while the opponents patently do not, all of the scriptural references degrade the enemy while elevating the sectarians.

95

In addition to the scriptural materials, the text contains evidence relevant to the various categories on the chart, but I remind the reader that my concern lies primarily with the social function of Scripture as used by the author. 96 The references are drawn from the Qimron-Strugnell DJD edition of 4QMMT. To facilitate the reader’s ability to refer to the text, references to the lines of the composite manuscript are provided in parentheses, as given by Martínez in Dead Sea Scrolls Translated, 76–85.

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Third, because the author bothers to write the letter to persuade the addressee of his position, all of the references show a residual concern for the parent tradition and seek to proselytize. Finally, whether the halakot derived from and/or validated by Scripture imply provision of ethical imperatives remains somewhat problematic in the text insofar as some of the halakot address temple rituals. I have circumspectly decided not to infer sectarian ethical regulations and practices from those instances but only suggest such where the regulation could be practiced within the sect itself. 4QMMT expresses concern not only for what the sectarians believe, but also for what they do.97 We can identify at least three parties in 4QMMT by the appearance of first, second, and third person pronouns: the author’s group (the sect), the addressee’s group (followers of the Wicked Priest?), and a third group (Pharisees?). B 9–11 (GM 12–14): [And concerning the cereal offering] of the sacrifice of well-being which they (the opponents) leave over from one day to the following one: but [it is written] that the cereal offer[ing is to be ea]ten after the suet and the flesh (are sacrificed), on the day when they are sacri[ficed (i.e. before sunset).

B 9–11 concerns the proper time to eat a cereal offering, but since Scripture does not specifically address cereal offerings, the author turns by way of analogy to such texts as Lev 7:15 or Lev 22:29. The author apparently interprets sunset as the beginning of a new day, whereas the opponents count the new day with the dawn. The passage provides an ethical imperative for the members of the sect and it demonstrates the sect’s presupposition that Scripture is a major locus of authority. As was the case in both 1QpHab and CD, opponents are degraded in terms of their unwillingness to keep the law. B 27–35 (GM 30b–38): [And concerning] that it is written: [if a person slaughters inside the camp, or slaughters] outside the camp cattle or sheep or goat: for [ . . . in] the northern part of the camp. And we are of the opinion that [-ç µybçwj wnjnaw] the sanctuary [is the ‘tent of meeting’] and that Jerusalem is the ‘camp’, and that ‘outside the 97 In noting the biblical allusion to Gen 15:6 at 4QMMT C31–32, Moshe Bernstein “wonder[s] whether the employment of Gen 15:6 in 4QMMT is not meant to convey an overtone of proper belief or of taking something on trust ( ˆmahw), as well as proper practice” (my italics). Moshe Bernstein, “The Employment and Interpretation of Scripture” in Reading 4QMMT: New Perspectives on Qumran Law and History (ed. John Kampen and Moshe Bernstein; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996), 36.

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B 27–35 appears in the context of proper slaughtering practices. The author quotes and interprets part of Lev 17:2–5, which in its entirety reads: “Speak to Aaron and his sons and to all the people of Israel and say to them: This is what the L has commanded. If anyone of the house of Israel slaughters an ox or a lamb or a goat in the camp, or slaughters it outside the camp, and does not bring it to the entrance of the tent of meeting, to present it as an offering to the L before the tabernacle of the L, he shall be held guilty of bloodshed; he has shed blood, and he shall be cut off from the people.” The author applies the ancient text to contemporary concerns by interpreting the ancient “tent of meeting” as the contemporary Jerusalem temple sanctuary and the “camp” to mean the city Jerusalem, so that “outside the camp” signifies outside Jerusalem.98 In consulting the Temple Scroll, which also treats this Leviticus passage, it would appear that the opponents do not slaughter in the sanctuary, whereas the author believes that they should. For the sect this passage serves a number of purposes. It upholds the authority of Scripture. It degrades “them,” in this case as those who transgress Torah because “they do not slaughter in the sanctuary.” Furthermore, the phrase -ç µybçwj wnjnaw locates authority in the sectarian leader(s) and appears throughout the Halakic Letter (4QMMT B 36, 37, 42, 55, 64, 73). The authority of the letter’s “we” is further demonstrated in the hortatory section which concludes the letter: “[And] we have [written] to you so that you may study (carefully) the book of Moses and the books of the Prophets and (the writings of ) David [and the events of ] ages past” (4QMMT C 10); and “We have indeed sent you some of the precepts of the Torah according to our decision, for your welfare and the welfare of your people” (4QMMT C 26–27). The latter passage may indicate that the letter was written to the Hasmonean High Priest; if that is the case, it further evinces opposition from the parent tradi98 Cf. B 59–62: “For Jerusalem is the camp of holiness and is the place which He has chosen from among all the places of the tribes of Israel. For Jerusalem is the chief of the camps of Israel.”

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tion, particularly the High Priest. The sectarian leaders know God’s economy (4QMMT C 20) which elevates them and, presumably, the sect which follows them. Finally, the fact that the leader(s) composed the letter and sent it to the High Priest reveals a residual concern for the parent tradition. While the authors do concern themselves with providing ritual imperatives here, I do not include it because, unlike other halakot in 4QMMT, I am unsure that this one would apply to the sect’s own community since it treats a temple matter. B 37–38 (GM 40–41): [. . . And concerning] eating (a fetus): we are of the opinion that the fetus [found in its (dead) mother’s womb may be eaten (only) after it has been ritually slaughtered. And you know that it is] so, namely that the ruling refers (to) (bwtk) a pregnant animal.

Qimron’s translation obscures the occurrence of bwtk in this passage, which refers to Lev 22:28; 4QMMT makes the unusual move of applying Lev 22:28 to pregnant animals, a move that places it in opposition to rabbinic law.99 The passage serves the following functions for the sect: it upholds the authority of Scripture, provides a ritual imperative, and ascribes authority to the sectarian leader(s) through the phrase -ç µybçwj wn jnaw, which is then connected with what is “written.” The authors’ reminding the reader of what the reader “knows” regarding Scripture paraenetically brings the reader into the sect. B 66–70a (GM 69b–73a): And it is (indeed) written that after he (i.e. the leper) shaves and washes he should dwell outside [his tent seven] days; but now while their impurity is (still) with them le[pers enter] into a house containing sacred food. And you know [that if someone violates a prohibitive commandment unintentionally], and the fact escapes him, he should bring a purification offering.

Both Lev 13:46 and 14:1–32 are evidenced here. The former reads: “He shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease; he is unclean. He shall live alone; his dwelling shall be outside the camp.” Lev 14:1–32 addresses the healing of a leper and demarcates a threephase process. The particular citation above draws from Lev 14:8, which describes the first phase: “The one who is to be cleansed shall wash his clothes, and shave off all his hair, and bathe himself in

99

Qimron and Strugnell, DJD X, 157.

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water, and he shall be clean. After that he shall come into the camp, but shall live outside his tent seven days.”100 It appears in a section about the purity of lepers at different stages of their healing. The author eschews the opponents’ more liberal view,101 which allows the leper to enter a house containing sacred food during the first phase, and espouses a more stringent view, which would bar entrance. The author manifests tolerance for those who violate commands accidentally.102 For the sect, the scriptural citation once again upholds the authority of Scripture and provides an ethical imperative. It is important to draw attention to the author’s penchant for clemency toward ofl pollo¤ in sharp contrast with B 70–71 below, where he impugns the leaders who should know better but instead “allow” the lepers to eat the sacred food. This is a characteristic evident in all of our sectarian texts, namely, while the sectarian leaders consider all those of the parent tradition who are not for them to be against them, a peculiar vehemence is reserved for and directed against the leaders. Students of the Fourth Gospel usually wonder at John’s ambiguous use of the term ÉIouda›oi to mean all Jews at times but only the scribes, Pharisees, and chief priests at other times. Something similar to 4QMMT’s attitude toward the “enemies” occurs in the Fourth Gospel. This passage also displays 4QMMT’s typical concern for purity, boundaries, and proper social relations. Drawing clear boundaries is an effective and concrete way to develop sectarian cohesion. Recall Swidler’s observation that during high ideology periods, in which a sect tries to establish an identity and a culture for its members, such issues assume great importance. Sectarian ideology does not tolerate ambiguities or multiple interpretations; rather, it seeks to clearly enunciate an overarching worldview for its members. The same phenomenon is seen when 4QMMT deals with issues of marriage. 100

Lev 14:9 and 14:20 provide the second and third phases, respectively. The rabbis’ views reflect a stance closer to the opponents’ than the sectarians’, according to the evidence in m. Neg. All agree, however, that a leper cannot partake of the sacred food until sunset on the eighth day. For the full discussion, see Qimron and Strugnell, DJD X, 166–70. 102 Bernstein restores the text to read as follows: “They shall be alone [outside the city. And] it is also written that from the time that he shaves and washes [h]e shall remain outside [his house for seven d]ays,” with the result that the author insists on two points: (1) lepers be kept out of cities and (2) during the purification period they be excluded from their homes. Bernstein, “Employment,” 43–44. 101

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B 70–72 (GM 73b): [and concerning him who purposely transgresses the precepts it is writ]ten that he ‘despises and blasphemes’. [Moreover, since they have the] impurity of leprosy, one should not let them (the lepers) eat of the sacred food until sunset on the eighth day.

The author’s complaint seems to be lodged against those who “let them (the lepers) eat of the sacred food,” thereby implying that the debate exists at the level of leadership. The whole section begins with the words, “And concerning (healed) lepers we are [of the opinion that they . . .],” the phrase “we are of the opinion” occurring throughout the text. The author views himself as influential and argues with opponents who enjoy similar influence. In accusing the opponents of despising and blaspheming, the author may draw from Num 15:30–31.103 This passage presents Scripture and the sect’s leaders as loci of authority. It degrades “them,” in this case as those who “despise and blaspheme” because they transgress Torah. B 75–76 (GM 78–79a): And concerning104 the practice of illegal marriage that exists among the people: (this practice exists) despite their being so[ns] of holy [seed], as is written, Israel is holy.

Scholars debate whether this refers to marriage between priests and laity or between Israelites and non-Israelites. Qimron and Strugnell prefer the former.105 They also contend that the author has in mind here not Jer 2:3, “Israel was holy to the L,” but rather “that Israel is holy according to the scripture.”106 What, if anything, does this passage imply for the Qumran sect? It would appear that it does not forbid marriage in general but only 103 Num 15:27–31: “An individual who sins unintentionally shall present a female goat a year old for a sin offering. And the priest shall make atonement before the L for the one who commits an error, when it is unintentional, to make atonement for the person, who then shall be forgiven. For both the native among the Israelites and the alien residing among them—you shall have the same law for anyone who acts in error. But whoever acts high-handedly, whether a native or an alien, affronts the L, and shall be cut off from among the people. Because of having despised the word of the L and broken his commandment, such a person shall be utterly cut off and bear the guilt.” 104 The author introduces each topic with the phrase lx πaw. This approximates Paul’s epistolary technique using per‹ d° and must be factored into a decision about the genre of 4QMMT. For such a discussion, see Qimron and Strugnell, DJD X, 113–14. 105 See Ibid., 171–75, for their argument. 106 Ibid., 55.

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improper marriage. If the passage refers to priestly endogamy, does this mean that the priests of Qumran could marry? If it refers to a prohibition against the marriage between Israelites and non-Israelites, does it imply that the laity could marry if they did so properly? I see no reason to dismiss these as possibilities despite the insistence on the part of many scholars that the sect at Qumran was exclusively male.107 It may be that, in addition to worrying about the behavior of the addressee and his people regarding marriage, the author is implying an ethical imperative for his own community regarding marriage. Certainly the author exhibits a continuing concern for the parent tradition. As usual, the passage also reflects the authority of Scripture and degrades “them” for opposing what “is written.” B 76–77 (GM 79b–80a): And concerning his (i.e., Israel’s) [clean ani]mal, it is written that one must not let it mate with another species;

Qimron and Strugnell, whose adherence to the notion that 4QMMT does not directly cite Scripture impresses me as somewhat dogmatic, contend that here bwtk “introduces the content of the biblical law rather than a quotation.”108 The author refers to Lev 19:19: “You shall keep my statutes. You shall not let your animals breed with a different kind; you shall not sow your field with two kinds of seed; nor shall you put on a garment made of two different materials.” For the sect, the passage achieves the following: it appeals to the authority of Scripture; evinces concern for boundaries, especially through the use of purity and defilement language; and provides an ethical imperative. B 77–78 (GM 80b): . . . and concerning his clothes [it is written that they should not] be of mixed stuff; and he must not sow his field and vine[yard with mixed specie]s.

This passage also refers to Lev 19:19 and perhaps Deut 22:9 as well: “You shall not sow your vineyard with a second kind of seed, or the whole yield will have to be forfeited, of both the crop that you 107 That the bones of women and children were discovered at one of the two Qumran cemeteries would corroborate such a possibility. Or, if one adopts the Essene theory, which distinguishes between those who withdrew from society and those who remained in it, one might argue that the passage implies the permissibility of marriage for the “city-dwellers,” so to speak. The author himself does not indicate any distinction, however, so it is best to avoid such a speculative proposition. 108 Qimron and Strugnell, DJD X, 56.

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have sown and the yield of the vineyard itself.” Both passages reveal a concern for purity, for a strict adherence to the Law. The reason purity should prevail over adulteration lies in the holiness of Israel, a point introduced at B 76 and reiterated quickly in B 79. Such emphasis implies that the author detects and disapproves of libertinism regarding purity. At B 80–81, the author accuses the addressee by saying, “You know (µy[dwy µtaw)109 that some of the priests and [the laity mingle with each other] [as well as] [And they] unite with each other and pollute the [holy] seed [as well as] their own [seed] with women whom they are forbidden to marry.” The passage appeals to the authority of Scripture; provides an ethical imperative; and evinces concern for boundaries, especially through the use of purity and defilement language. The opponents are degraded because they do, in fact, adulterate that which should remain pure, thereby transgressing Torah. C 6–7 (GM 91b): [And it is] written [in the book of Moses] [hçwm rpfb] that you should [not] bring any abomination [into your home, since] abomination is a hateful thing.

For the purposes of context, C 4–6, which immediately precedes the scriptural citation, evidences worry about women and the destruction which ensues on their account. The scriptural source behind the author’s comment is Deut 7:26:110 “Do not bring an abhorrent thing into your house, or you will be set apart for destruction like it. You must utterly detest and abhor it, for it is set apart for destruction.” The author adduces Scripture at this point to castigate the opponents, who do not keep strict purity laws, and to justify the sect’s separation from them. He says, “[And you know that] we have separated ourselves from the multitude of the people [and from all their impurity] and from being involved with these matters and from participating with [them] in these things. And you [know that no] treachery or deceit or evil can be found in our hand [i.e. in us], since for [these things] we give [. . .].” This proclamation yields useful information to the historian. First, this is the earliest evidence for the use of çrp to mean “to separate.”111 Second, it indicates, in emic 109

The same technique appears elsewhere in 4QMMT. Cf., e.g., C 8. Where Qimron sees a mere paraphrase, Bernstein (“Employment,” 47) suggests quotation of Deut 7:26 combined with language from Deut 12:31 as well as Deut 12:2. 111 Qimron and Strugnell, DJD X, 58. 110

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terms, why the group broke away. Third, it attests to the ubiquitous Qumran preoccupation with deceit and evil. Hence, this passage as it functions in its context creates “them” and degrades “them,” manifests a continuing concern for the parent religion, creates “us” by testifying to deliberate withdrawal on the part of sectarians, elevates “us” as not deceitful, sets boundaries with purity/defilement language, appeals to the authority of Scripture for its position, and accuses the opponents of the sect of breaking Torah. C 12 (GM 97a): And it is written that [you will stray] from the path (of the Torah) and that calamity will meet [you].

The text echoes Deut 31:29: hwhy yny[b [rhAta wç[tAyk µymyh tyrjab µkydy hç[mb wsy[khl. Presumably the author replaces the second person plural of the biblical text with the second person singular in order to refer to the addressee (who may be the Hasmonean High Priest). Since the author takes Deut 31:29 and 30:1 together (see below), this passage achieves eschatological purposes: “The long paraphrase after bwtkw follows Deut 30:1–3. It represents the biblical source in an idiosyncratic form that is at the same time both abbreviated and supplied with explanatory additions that date the promise in Deuteronomy to the end of days.”112 Additionally, it appeals to the authority of Scripture and it degrades the opponent as a transgressor of Torah. C 12 (GM 97b–102): And it is written ‘and it shall come to pass, when all these things [be]fall you,’ at the end of days, the blessings and the curses, [‘then you will take] it to hea[rt] and you will return unto Him with all your heart and with all your soul’, at the end [of time, so that you may live. . . .]

The author cites Deut 30:1–3, though not in the form represented by the ; rather, the citation contains abbreviations, supplements, and omissions. The biblical text reads: hl+ ;l;Q“h'w“ h!k;r:B]h' hL,afieh; µyr∞Ib;D“h'AlK; Úyl,⁄[; Wa Ob! y:AykI h°y:h;w“ 30:1 Új} iì yDIji r év, a} µy±IwGO h'Alk;B] Úb+,b;l]Ala, t! ;boveh}w" Úyn– hM;v: Úyh`, Ola‘ hwì :hy“ .Úvâ,p]n"Alk;b]W Ú`b]b;l“Alk;B] Úyn< +b;W hT∞ ;a' µw Y–ho ' Ú¡ù W“x'm] yk∆InOa;Arv,a} r ví ,a} µyM+i['h¢;AlK;mi Ú!x]B,qiw“ bc;wO“ Úm-<j}riw“ Ú¡t]Wbv]Ata, Úyhi à,fila‘ hwí :hy“ bv;! w“ 30:3 >hM;vâ; Úyt™l, øa‘ hw :hy“ IÚàx]ypâih‘ ⁄ 112

Ibid., 59.

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The author adds “at the end of days,” creating an eschatological significance for the text which is to be realized contemporarily113 and omits the phrase “which I have set before you.” The omission of >hM;vâ; Úyh™ l, øa‘ hwì :hy“ Úài j}yDihi r ví ,a} µy+wOi Gh'Alk;B] constitutes a more important move because, if intentional, it finds the author erasing the allusion to the historical dispersion of Israel. This achieves the following for the sect: it sets its experience in an eschatological context, and, while ostensibly seeking to convert the addressee to the sectarian worldview, it implicitly exhorts those already “in” to remain faithful and so achieve salvation. Furthermore, it implies that the scriptural text finds its telos in the sect’s own generation, degrades the opponents as those who stray from Torah, and espouses a clear notion of judgment for non-sectarians. C 17–20 (GM 103–106a): [It is written in the book] of Moses [and in the books of the Prophets] that there will come [. . .] [the blessings have (already) befallen in . . .] in the days of Solomon the son of David. And the curses [that] have (already) befallen from the days of Jeroboam the son of Nebat and up to when Jerusalem and Zedekiah King of Judah went into captivity that He will bring them [. . .].

The author exhorts the addressee to turn to Scripture, especially the history of the kings, in order to learn from them. The passage achieves the following for the sect: it sets their experience in an eschatological context, implies that the scriptural text finds its telos in the sect’s own generation, and espouses a clear notion of divine judgment. C 20 (GM 106b–107a): And we know that some of the blessings and the curses have (already) been fulfilled as it is written in the bo[ok of Mo]ses.

This passage echoes C 17 and as such achieves the same for the sect: it sets their experience in an eschatological context, especially with the “fulfillment” language, implies that the scriptural text finds its telos in the sect’s own generation, espouses a clear notion of divine judgment, and shows the sect’s special knowledge.

113 Where Qimron and Strugnell see “an addition,” Bernstein suggests another biblical allusion rising from Deut 31:29 or even Deut 4:30: lKø¡ ÚWaÈx;m]W Ú+l] rX¢'B' >wløâqøB] T™[; ]m'v;w“ Úyh+,loa‘ hw∞:hy“ Ad[' T!;b]v'w“ µym+iY:h' t!yrIj}a'B] hL,aeh; µyr¢ib;D]h.' Qimron and Strugnell, DJD X, 59; Bernstein, “Employment,” 48 and n. 43.

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Indirect Use of Scripture in 4QMMT As with the Fourth Gospel, while space does not allow extensive comment on biblical allusions, indirect references, or the mere use of biblical phraseology, a few words are certainly in order. Like most Qumran texts, 4QMMT is suffused with biblical language.114 For example, at C 24 the author observes that kings who followed Torah were “delivered from troubles” (twrxm lxn), a common phrase which is used of King David at 1 Sam 26:24 and Ps 34:18.115 References to “Torah” (hrwt) abound (C 24 [twice], 27, 28) and function in the important capacity of canon for setting boundaries and determining whom to include or exclude. So the opponents are those who do not “fear” or “do” Torah, whereas the sectarians are defined as “seekers of the Torah” (hrwt yçqbm). Knowing Torah is not as important as fearing or doing Torah, since the (unknown) addressee proves that knowledge of Torah certainly does not necessitate observance of it (C 28). Other indirect references to Scripture appear in the form of “the book” (rps) C 10 (twice), 11; Moses (hçm) C 10, 17, 21; David (dwd) C 10, 18, 25; prophets (aybn) C 10; and “former events,” C11, 12. These last five congregate in 4QMMT C 7–11, so it bears closer attention. C 7–11:116 [And you know that] we have separated ourselves from the multitude of the people [and from all their impurity] and from being involved with these matters and from participating with [them] in these things. And you [know that no] treachery or deceit or evil can be found in our hand (i.e. in us), since for [these things] we give [. . . And] we have [written] to you so that you may study (carefully) the book of Moses and the books of the Prophets and (the writings of ) David [and the] [events of ] ages past.

At the “narrative level,” the author writes to the addressee to explain why his group has separated and to invite the addressee to scrutinize Scripture more seriously so that he might at least concede the authors’ points and at most convert to the sect. 114 Though Qimron’s claim (DJD X, 136) seems a bit exaggerated: “In most of the halakhot there are allusions to the biblical passages on which the particular halakha is based. Some words from each biblical parallel occur in the halakha of MMT (sometimes in a grammatical form different from that of the source).” 115 Ibid., 62 n. 24. 116 Ibid., 56–57.

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For the sect that preserved the letter, the appeal to “the book of Moses,” “the books of the Prophets,” “the writings of David,” and “the events of ages past” degrades “them” as “the people and all their impurity.” It helps to create “us” through etiological propositions—both the claim that the sectarians deliberately separated at some point and the claim that “events of ages past” as recorded in Scripture validate that withdrawal. It elevates “us” as an honest, faithful group in whom there is “no treachery or deceit.” As always, it reflects the authority of Scripture for the group. Cases where the author refers to the biblical text, but does not indicate he is doing so by using a citation formula (bwtk), occur at B 69, 70. There the lack of citation formula serves an intentional function since the author’s goal at those points is paraenetic; he acts as though the addressee does not need to be directed to the scriptural passage because the addressee should “know” already that the author is alluding to Scripture. So the author says, “And you know [that if someone violates a prohibitive commandment unintentionally], and the fact escapes him, he should bring a purification offering.” In referring to Lev 5:2 the author assumes (whether actually or rhetorically)117 that this addressee who has “wisdom and knowledge of the Torah” (C 28) knows the reference. Put that way, the addressee would be ashamed to admit he does not. The technique compels the reader to assume the author’s position.118 A similar pattern of indirect reference usage appears in the following places, but detailed analysis of them would add little to what we have already seen: B 11–13 (Lev 22:16); B 14 (Num 19:8, 10, 21); B 39–41 (Deut 23:2–4); B 40 (Gen 2:23–24); B 49 (Lev 19:30); B 62–64 (Lev 19:23–24 and Lev 27:32); B 72–74 (Num 19:16 or 19:18); C 25 (2 Sam 7:15, Ps 89:25, 29, 34, 50; 2 Chr 6:42); C 31–32 (Gen 15:6; Deut 6:18, 24–25; 12:28; Ps 106:3).119

117

Cf. Rom 7:1. David Koresh was fond of this technique. 119 Moshe Bernstein distinguishes between biblical imitation for “purely stylistic” purposes and “theological” purposes. I disagree with such a categorization because what Bernstein designates “mere stylistics,” I would place on our chart under the rubric of “shaping worldview” or “production of culture,” noting the power of language in a way he apparently does not. If we ignore his categories, his identifications of biblical allusions are useful. For a discussion of how Bernstein arrives at these scriptural echoes, see “Employment,” 36–38. 118

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Charting Results How Scripture Functions in the Qumran Sect A. BREAKING AWAY: CREATING AND DEGRADING “THEM” 1QpHab 2:1–3; 5:8–12 4QMMT B 9–11, 27–35, 70, 75–76, 77–78; C 6–7, 12 CD 3:7–8; 4:12–14; 5:8ff.; 6:11–19; 7:9–8:3 B. FORMATION OF SECT 1. Etiology: celebrate origins of the community; ground community in the past 1QpHab 5:8–12 4QMMT C 6–8; 11 CD 3:20ff.; 6:2–7; 6:11–19; 7:9–8:3 2. Show sect’s founder to have special insight regarding Scripture 1QpHab 2:2; 7:4–5 CD 6:7–11 3. Defining and elevating “us” a. An elect group 1QpHab 5:4–5, 6–8; 9:12; 10:13 CD 8:14–18 b. An honest, faithful group 4QMMT B 8–9 1QpHab 5:7; 7:10 c. A persevering group 1QpHab 5:6–8; 7:10–11; 8:1 CD 7:12–14 d. A privileged group 1QpHab 11:1 4QMMT C 20 CD 3:18–4:4; 6:2–7; 6:11–19 e. A group affording access to salvation 1QpHab 8:2 f. A group that observes the Law 1QpHab 5:5–6; 12:2–5

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C. CREATING A DISTINCT WAY OF LIFE 1. Ethical behavior a. Setting boundaries: purity/defilement 4QMMT B 66–67, 75–76, 76–77, 77–78; C 6–7 CD 3:20ff.; 6:11–19 b. Providing ethical imperatives 1QpHab 5:5; 7:10–11; 8:1 4QMMT B 9–11, 37–38, 66–67, 75–76, 76–77, 77–78 CD 6:11–19; 7:6–9; 7:9–8:3 2. Ritual practice 1QpHab 11:7–8 4QMMT B 27 CD 6:11–19 3. Language and rhetoric All of 1QpHab, which clothes contemporary experience in biblical terms CD 6:2–7; 7:9–8:3 4. Use of sacred texts a. The sectarian community as Scripture’s telos 1QpHab 1:2–3; 2:8–10; 7:2 CD 1:13ff.; 4:12–14; 6:11–19 b. Scripture validates the sect’s views 4QMMT B 9–11, 27–35, 37–38, 66–67, 70, 75–76, 77–78; C 6–7, 12 CD 4:19ff.; 7:6–9; 20:13–17 5. Roles of authoritative leaders a. Teacher of Righteousness 1. The leader is righteous, chosen by God or otherwise admirable 1QpHab 1:13 CD 6:7–11; 7:18ff. 2. Unjustly persecuted 1QpHab 5:9–12; 9:9–10; 11:4–6 3. Privy to special insight 1QpHab 2:2; 7:4–5 CD 6:7–11 4. Warrants fidelity and belief; salvation and judgment depend upon one’s stance vis-à-vis him 1QpHab 2:2; 8:2–3; 9:9–12

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b. Priest 1QpHab 2:8–10 c. “We” of 4QMMT who pronounce rulings (dabar) according to their opinion 4QMMT B 1–2, 29, 36, 37, 42, 55, 64, 73; C 10, 11–12, 20, 26–27 6. Definition of the future 1QpHab 7:1–2, 7, 9–14 CD 3:20ff. D. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM THE PARENT TRADITION 1. Named opponents a. High Priest/Wicked Priest ([çrh ˆhkh) 1QpHab 1:13; 8:8–13; 11:13–14 4QMMT as a whole; 4QMMT C 26–27(?) b. Man of the Lie 1QpHab 2:1–2; 5:11; 10:9(?) CD 1:14(?) c. Seekers-After-Smooth-Things CD 1:18 d. House of Absalom and its partisans 1QpHab 5:9–12 e. Other priests of Jerusalem 1QpHab 9:4 2. Those who break Scripture 1QpHab 5:11–12 4QMMT B 9–11, 27–35, 70, 75–76, 77–78; C 6–7, C 12 CD 1:20; 3:7–8; 4:19ff.; 5:8ff. E. OPPOSITION FROM WITHIN THE SECT: DEALING WITH DEFECTION 1. Reward adherence to the sect 1QpHab 8:2 4QMMT C12 2. Castigate potential and actual deserters 1QpHab 2:3–4, 14–15 CD 7:20–8:3; 8:14–18

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F. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM WITHOUT 1. Romans 1QpHab. 2:12–14; 3–4; 6:1–12; 9:4–6 2. The nations 1QpHab 12:10–13:4 G. JUDGMENT AGAINST OPPONENTS 1. Against Parent Religion 1QpHab 5:4–5; 9:1–2, 4–7, 12; 10:3–5, 12–13; 12:2–5 CD 1:16–17; 1:21–2:1; 3:20ff. 4QMMT C 12, 17, 20 2. Against Sect-Defectors 1QpHab 2:3–4, 14–15120 CD 7:20–8:3; 8:14–18; 20:13–17 3. Against the “World” (the nations, the Romans) 1QpHab 5:4; 12:12–13:4 H. GROWING THE SECT 1. Proselytizing 1QpHab 2:6 4QMMT B 37–38 CD 3:20ff. 2. The next generation

Conclusions Formation of the Sect A sect, by definition, forms in opposition to a parent tradition, and as long as its members remain sectarian they maintain opposition to and from that tradition. The process of developing an identity, group

120 Protest might be raised against the inclusion of the 1QpHab passages here insofar as they do not overtly announce judgment on the sect defectors at this particular point, but merely mention them with disgust. Other passages, however, make it clear that, in addition to drawing attention to them, the author implies judgment on them as well (cf. e.g., 13:4).

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boundaries, and a worldview requires distinguishing the group from other groups, defining the community over against actual or constructed opponents. Regardless of which, if any, of the scenarios presented at the beginning of the chapter actually inhered in the birth of the sect, the author of 1QpHab envisions a schism centered on the acceptance or rejection of the Teacher of Righteousness (1QpHab 5:8–12). The sectarian insiders, the “we,” identify with those who accepted the Teacher of Righteousness, while the opponents, the “they,” are those who are identified with the rejecters. The latter are not only identified, but also clearly degraded; they are “traitors” who are associated with the Man of the Lie (1QpHab 2:1–3). The author of 4QMMT ascribes the break to issues of purity and draws the dividing line between the “we” who maintained the purity laws and the “they” who patently transgressed them. 1QpHab also identifies “them” as those who rejected the law (1QpHab 5:8–12). The distinctions and characterizations made by the Qumran authors in recounting the emergence of the sect remain consistent for opponents as described in the sect’s contemporary situation. Just as the original opponents to the Teacher of Righteousness rejected him, so also the contemporary opponents reject the sectarians; just as the original opponents were treacherous, deceitful, and willing to sacrifice their integrity to save themselves, so also the contemporary opponents are treacherous, greedy, and deceitful; just as the original opponents broke Torah, so also the contemporary opponents do the same. By the same token, the contemporary sectarians resemble their founding counterparts. They accept the words of the Teacher of Righteousness, that is, the word of God. They remain faithful to Torah (1QpHab 5:5–6); they are honest and persevere in the truth no matter what the cost to them. These consistent characterizations are in keeping with Garfinkel’s observations regarding degradation techniques. It is not enough simply to denounce the actions of the opponents; the grounds of their actions must be identified. In the Fourth Gospel the essence of the opponents is defined primarily by whether one’s father is the devil or God. In the Qumran literature, the opponents, in their very essence, are opposed to God’s desires and seek to fulfill their own desires (CD 3:7); the exact opposite can be said of the sectarians. The Qumran authors (i.e., the denouncers) use Scripture deftly to accomplish what Garfinkel describes thus: “any sense of accident, coincidence, indeterminism, chance, or monetary [sic] occurrence must not merely be

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minimized. Ideally, such measures should be inconceivable. . . .”121 This is accomplished in part by the authors’ indication that the sect’s contemporary situation was already inscribed in Scripture long ago and that Scripture finds its telos in the group. There are no surprises for the sect: their experiences are simply the unfolding of what was already foretold in Scripture. The opponents are made to be totally “other”; they are ritually separated from a place in the legitimate order and are instead doomed to divine destruction. As it turns out, although the Qumran group separated from its parent tradition, each text manifests a residual concern for the parent tradition and its affairs; theirs was not “a clean break.” The people of the Qumran community, in typical sectarian fashion, never considered themselves anything but Jews. Their distinction lay in their understanding themselves as the true, purified, fulfilled Israel, the faithful inheritors of the covenant indicated in Scripture. Their etiology is grounded in the hoary past; to one initiated into the sect’s special jargon, they can be seen in the pages of Scripture, the “we” of Hab 1:12ff., the “princes” of Num 21:18. The fact that the sect simultaneously envisioned itself both as a “new” phenomenon (members of a “new” covenant, e.g.) and an “old” phenomenon (rightful claimants to the original covenant, faithful remnant) results in tension that may explain in part why the authors give more attention and vehement castigation to Jews than to Gentiles. Though adamantly defining themselves as radically different from those in the parent tradition, they are not so different as to be defined apart from that tradition. So, the person who expects the Qumran sect to wash its hands of the Jews who opposed it and whom it opposed, and to turn its sights upon Samaritans or Gentiles, will find little supporting evidence. It is not the case that the authors’ interest in the parent tradition terminates with their having narrated the original break; rather, it continues to express tension with the tradition. Recall Swidler’s characterization of unsettled periods which, in the process of forming new strategies of action, nevertheless maintain a basic connection with the parent tradition insofar as “much of their taken-for-granted understanding of the world and many of their daily practices still depend on traditional patterns.”122 Scripture itself may be counted among those “traditional patterns,” as Wayne Meeks indicates when he writes with 121 122

Garfinkel, “Conditions,” 42. Swidler, “Culture,” 279.

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regard to the Fourth Gospel: “While in Philo’s writings we see the Moses traditions being used in a broad Kulturkampf, here in John they are employed in a sectarian controversy. And both sides in this controversy have used the same scripture and similar traditions.”123 Creating a Distinct Way of Life Like the Branch Davidians, the Qumran community evinced its break with its parent tradition in a rather literal way by physically residing together in a separate community whose boundaries were drawn clearly. As Bainbridge notes: “A successful religious movement typically goes through a formative period, when it develops its distinctive doctrine and practices.”124 Those forging a sectarian community must provide the group a sense of identity, which involves adopting or inventing culture, actions, habits, ascribing to them particular meaning, and assimilating members into that culture so that everyone in the group operates with a set of shared assumptions and strategies of action. Residents of Qumran were expected to abide by uniform ethical and ritual practices. Recall Swidler’s argument: Bursts of ideological activism occur in periods when competing ways of organizing action are developing or contending for dominance. People formulate, flesh out, and put into practice new habits of action. In such situations, culture may indeed be said to directly shape action. Members of a religious cult wear orange, or share their property . . . because their beliefs tell them to. . . . During such periods, differences in ritual practice or doctrine may become highly charged, so that statuary in churches . . ., the clothing and preaching style of ministers . . . are fraught with significance. Ritual acquires such significance in unsettled lives because ritual changes reorganize taken-for-granted habits and modes of experience.125

She argues, “In unsettled periods, ideologies—explicit, articulated, highly organized meaning systems (both political and religious)—establish new styles or strategies of action. When people are learning new ways of organizing individual and collective action, practicing unfamiliar habits until they become familiar, then doctrine, symbol, and ritual directly shape action.”126 Sects, as representatives of unsettled lives, are impa123 124 125 126

Meeks, “Divine Agent,” 54. Bainbridge, Sociology, 82–83. Swidler, “Culture,” 279. Ibid., 278.

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tient of the ambiguities, varieties, and even profound inconsistencies which “settled lives” tolerate; rather, they provide a comprehensive answer to the question of “how human beings should live. In conflict with other cultural models, these cultures are coherent because they must battle to dominate the worldviews, assumptions, and habits of their members.”127 Sects seek to dominate the worldview of their members, and the sects studied here rely heavily on the invocation and interpretation of Scripture to effect it. The reader should not be surprised, then, to find an emphasis on ethical and ritual practice at Qumran or to discover Scripture as a vehicle of culture which plays a prominent role in designing the new strategies of action. In the most general terms, the sectarians are consistently exhorted to “observe the Law” (1QpHab 8:1) or “keep the commandments” (1QpHab 5:5), but more specific practices are enjoined as well, such as those related to consuming a cereal offering (4QMMT B 9–11), eating a fetus (4QMMT B 37–38), lepers (4QMMT B 66–67), marriage (4QMMT B 75–76), and others. Rituals related to slaughtering (4QMMT B 27) and keeping the sabbath and festival days (CD 6:11–19; 1QpHab 11:7–8) appear as well. Issues of purity and defilement loom large in the deployment of Scripture in the chosen Qumran texts. This is a community that appears to have concerned itself seriously with setting boundaries between insiders and outsiders. The same applies to the Branch Davidians under Koresh, who expected his people to abide by particular dietary laws, marriage boundaries, codes of dress, and observance of the sabbath. In addition to ethical and ritual means, creating and using a special insider language is effective in developing a sense of group identity among sectarians. Recall the discussion concerning language and rhetoric as a means to cultural inclusion or exclusion. Leaders and members may insist that their belief system is unique but deliberately not present those beliefs thoroughly or transparently. They may appeal to esoteric, historical, philosophical, and theological sources of wisdom to keep the belief system somewhat inaccessible to outsiders. They may also use special language.128 This type of move is made often in the Qumran literature where the authors speak in a code, even a double code. For example, 1QpHab12ff. quotes Hab. 1:4 and then “explains” that the “evildoer” of Hab 1:4 is the “Wicked 127 128

Ibid., 279. Wuthnow, Producing, 101.

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Priest” and Habakkuk’s “upright man” is the Teacher of Righteousness. The biblical code is thus cracked for the sectarians who, as insiders, know the Wicked Priest and the Teacher of Righteousness, but the “interpretation” remains opaque to the outsider whose only hope of discovery rests upon extensively searching all of the Qumran literature to make an educated guess as to the identity of these figures. Other examples of special language include: “traitors,” the “poor ones,” the “simple ones of Judah,” “the last generation,” “those who live in the land of Damascus,” “Ephraim,” “the House of Judah,” “the House of Absalom,” “Man of the Lie,” “seekers-after-smooththings,” and “Kittim.” In observing how these authors wield Scripture to establish boundaries and place various people and groups of people into orderly categories, it is useful to visit part of Wuthnow’s explanation of the dramaturgic approach to culture: The term “dramaturgic” is used to describe this approach because of its emphasis on the capacity of rituals, ideologies, and other symbolic acts to dramatize the nature of social relations. It is in these dramatizations that definitions of the situations are communicated. In saying that culture is symbolic-expressive, therefore, this approach tends to focus less on information that is simply and straightforwardly transmitted than on messages that may be implicit in the ways in which social life is arranged, in rituals, and in the choice of words in discourse. Put simply, what is “given off ” may be as important as what is “given.”129

Loci of Authority Scripture The authors of our texts plied Scripture extensively and variously to maintain the sect. In addition to setting boundaries, providing ethical imperatives,130 and insisting on ritual/devotional practices, much scriptural interpretation focused on the loci of authority, specifically the leaders of the group and Scripture. In the establishment of new strategies of actions for the Qumran sectarians, Scripture and the 129

Wuthnow, Meaning, 13–14. “Keep,” “learn,” and “practice” are all words used often in the Qumran texts with regard to the keeping of God’s “statutes,” “ordinance,” “commands,” and “words”; the Fourth Gospel uses strikingly similar language. 130

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authoritative leaders play a special role. Clearly, the group considered itself subject to Scripture, called variously the word of God, the Law, the commandments, the words of his servants the prophets, or “that which is written.” In its break with the parent tradition, the Qumran sect did not attempt to downplay the role of Scripture; rather it viewed itself as those who take Scripture most seriously and adhere to what is communicated therein. Indeed, the group patently distinguishes itself as those who take Scripture seriously as opposed to the parent tradition, which is definitively characterized by its “rejection” of Scripture. Recall Wuthnow’s identification of the three dynamics at work when religious groups compete with one another: selective adaptation, isomorphism, and specialization. Selective adaptation concerns the “fit” between the group and its host environment; the Qumran community’s fit and the parent tradition’s fit in Roman Palestine appears to have been equal and requires no attention. Isomorphism has to do with the organizations having enough resemblance to one another to ensure a certain part of the available resources. The Qumran sect appears to have been a strictly Jewish phenomenon; its members came from a worldview previously shaped by the parent tradition. “Specialization” was achieved, at least in part, by the Qumran community’s commitment to reforming, purifying, and revitalizing the covenant community as indicated in Scripture. Hence, in presenting its views, the community readily argued that those views emerged from and were validated by Scripture. The authors all resolutely indicate that the sectarian community is Scripture’s telos. They typically “prove” that their views are in keeping with Scripture.131 Davies addresses the role of Scripture in the Qumran community: This state of affairs is misconceived if CD is dismissed as a mere ‘mosaic’ of quotations to which no evidential value may be attached. There are certainly numerous examples of biblical phraseology which must be regarded as unconsidered and even as only part of the author’s own biblically saturated vocabulary. But the cumulative force of the numerous quotations and allusions amounts to a statement that the ‘plot’ of CD can be read in the Bible: the community, the time in which it lives, its laws, everything is anticipated, described, regulated in 131 This aspect of scriptural usage has been commented on by myriad scholars usually under the rubric of “proof-texting.” See, e.g., Geza Vermes, “Biblical ProofTexts in Qumran Literature,” Journal of Semitic Studies 34/2 (1989): 493–508.

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the Bible. The conclusion is forced upon one that not only is the Bible used by the community to present its appeal, but also that it was in the Bible in the first place that the community found its identity.132

The authors use Scripture to denote the centrality of Scripture. As noted previously, the relationship between the community and Scripture was symbiotic (a point which applies to any community, ancient or modern, which espouses a notion of scriptural authority). The community rests under the authority of Scripture but certainly influences how Scripture is interpreted by “closing down” possible meanings so that the “proper interpretation” becomes “evident and inevitable.” Leaders The “specialization” of the group does not end with Scripture, however. As will be seen in the cases of both the Branch Davidians and the Johannine community, it is Scripture as mediated through the authoritative leader or leaders of the group. 1QpHab uses Scripture to elevate especially the figure known as the Teacher of Righteousness, who makes only a slight appearance in CD’s scriptural interests and is absent from 4QMMT’s. Some may find this surprising given the febrile attempt to place him as the founder and primary leader of the sect and to compare his to the role of Jesus of Nazareth for Christianity. To be sure, we have included only evidence pertaining to the use of direct citations, so the inclusion of entire texts in our analysis might have secured him a more central role. Because he has engendered so much debate, a few words are in order regarding the Teacher of Righteousness. While the exact date, identification, and function of the Teacher of Righteousness continues to befuddle students of Qumran, no one would contest his significant role in the community and especially the authority wielded by him regarding biblical interpretation. Jesus enjoyed a similar authority in the community of the Fourth Gospel, as did David Koresh in the Branch Davidian community. Unlike the latter two groups, however, the Qumranians did not impute divinity to their teacher. In speaking of the authority of Mikra, Fishbane proposes a “twofold chain of authority: God and His authoritative spokesmen.”133 Mikra is 132 133

Philip R. Davies, “Eschatology at Qumran,” JBL 104 (1985): 55. Fishbane, “Use,” 360.

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the revelation of God to which Moses and the Prophets attest. Next in line are the community’s teachers.134 The role of the teacher is highlighted in CD 6:10–11: “Without [the Staff of Instruction] they will not grasp [the meaning of the revelations of God] until there arises one who teaches righteousness in the end of days.” And in 1QpHab 2:1–9 we learn that “the true meaning of the ancient prophecies were not even known to the authoritative spokesman of God who revealed them in past times. Only through the interpretations of the Teacher will the community know of the final day and their ultimate vindication.”135 The same point is made in 1QpHab 7:1–2. 1QpHab attests to the special interpretive authority imputed to the Teacher of Righteousness. His words are to be believed because it has been given to him to unravel the mysteries set forth in Scripture; indeed, his interpretation is presented as coming from the “mouth of God.” His special revelatory relationship vis-à-vis Scripture is the cynosure of his authority. Because of this, not only should his words command belief, but he himself should be the object of fidelity. As is the case with the Branch Davidian and Fourth Gospel groups, the leader is shown to be especially righteous or chosen by God to fulfill his role. He is unjustly persecuted; he is privy to special insight regarding Scripture and other matters. In all three cases, that is, with the Teacher of Righteousness, Jesus, and David Koresh, the authors insist that to reject the leader is to reject the word of God or Godself and thereby to lose one’s salvation. While the three leaders mentioned occupy the central leadership roles for the groups studied, both the Qumran and Branch Davidian sects admit other, if lesser, authorities as well. So, 4QMMT never mentions the Teacher of Righteousness; rather, the halakic exhortations and rulings are handed down from the “we” who are indicated in the text. 1QpHab also allows room for a “priest” mentioned in 1QpHab 2:8–10. The Branch Davidians reserve an authoritative position for a number of previous leaders in the group’s history, but Koresh is the ultimate authority. The Fourth Gospel strictly eschews Jesus’ sharing authority with anyone, even John the Baptist.

134 135

Ibid. Ibid., 361.

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Definition of the Future As noted already by Meeks and sociologists of sectarianism, sects require great sacrifice from their members. As a result, they must compensate by providing rewards and by providing a deep sense of belonging. Rewards can be envisioned as a present or a future phenomenon. One common reward among all of the groups under study here is that of salvation from God’s judgment. Both 1QpHab and CD concern themselves with the future, or, as 1QpHab denotes it, “the end time.” At that time, divine justice will be meted out and the sectarians will receive God’s favor, eternal life, all the glory of Adam (CD 3:20ff.), while the opponents of the group will not (1QpHab 7:9–14). One stands either with the sect or against the sect; one receives either God’s favor or disfavor; the Qumran authors envision no “middle ground.” Of course, eschatology and judgment go hand in hand. By proclaiming judgment the author exhorts the sectarians to continued faithfulness despite tribulation, retrieves those in danger of defecting, and insists that the apparent chaos and violence surrounding them from the parent religion and the Romans is not ultimate; rather, God’s sovereignty is to be trusted. The author takes the opportunity to inspire the faithful sectarians to endure by assuring them that salvation inheres only in the sect, whereas those outside will reap divine wrath. Scripture is used to portend this fate variously for non-sectarian Jews, sect-defectors, and pagans. Opponents Attention to the sect’s enemies is in order. First, because the sect seems to have developed over time, we must allow that the enemies in each era and/or each text might be somewhat different. In other words, the particularities of each text must be honored rather than harmonized under the rubric of a principal text which one has chosen as “the key text.” Having said that, one generalization supported by this study is that the most often and most vociferously denounced enemies of the Jewish sect are always other Jews, with the pagan world lagging behind substantially. Even when pagan opponents do appear, more often than not they are presented as agents of God’s divine wrath due to the treatment of the sectarians by the rest of Judaism. Campbell makes an observation which will apply to the Fourth Gospel as well:

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With regard to the significance of the use of scripture in CD 1–8 and 19–20, we may go one stage further in view of the polemical air of much of the document. This adversarial tone, as already implied in our consideration of the sect’s supposed exilic origins, may profitably be related to conflicting claims in the second half of the Second Temple period truly to represent and continue ancient Israel’s traditions. Indeed, rival interpretations of revelation held in common among the various Jewish groups at this time have been highlighted by Vermes, whose own words we may borrow once more: “From the one body of sacred writings . . . and employing the same methods of interpretation, each evolved a distinct religious outlook and way of life in conflict, very often, with those of the others.”136

Numerous named enemies surface in the texts we have chosen. Realizing that various sobriquets may apply to an individual or a group, and that some of these may designate the same historical figure(s), we list the following: Wicked Priest, traitors, Man of Lies, SeekersAfter-Smooth-Things, Man of Scorn, Spouter of Lies, House of Absalom and its partisans, other Jerusalem priests, and all those who do not keep Torah precepts. The Romans and “the nations” occasionally appear as well. Recurring characteristics of the enemies include trafficking in deceit, violence, profanation of God’s name, disbelief, and apostasy. Notably, our Qumran authors (like the Fourth Gospel) can distinguish between “the people” and “rulers of the people” when speaking of both Jewish and Roman opponents.137 Parent Tradition By definition, sects stand in opposition to at least one other group, the parent tradition. Those of the parent tradition are most generally and often referred to as those who do not keep Torah precepts. Specific figures are also named. The Wicked Priest is an evildoer, proud, a deserter of God, a betrayer of the Law, greedy, inebriate, a robber, and the performer of acts of defiling impurity. The Man of Lies is primarily charged with rejecting the Law and not believing the words of the Teacher of Righteousness which were from the mouth of God, two of the most egregious offenses the author can imagine. He leads others astray (the same charge made against Jesus 136

Campbell, Use, 207. Campbell’s n. 79 refers us to 4QMMT as well. So, e.g., 1QpHab 3:9 speaks of “the Kittim,” whereas 4:5 refers to “the rulers of the Kittim.” 137

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in the Fourth Gospel; John 7:12 and 7:47) subjecting them to deceit and falsehood and causing them to persecute the sectarians. CD 1:18ff. speaks of “the scoffer” who arose in Israel and caused people to stray so that the people became unjust, broke the covenant, and sought easy interpretations (also translated “seekers-after-smooththings”). The “House of Absalom and their partisans” are castigated primarily for their inaction rather than action insofar as they remained silent when the Teacher of Righteousness underwent persecution by the Man of the Lie in their midst. The author of the Fourth Gospel exhibits the same impatience with “fence-sitters” and indicates that one belongs to the sect and receives all due reward or one does not belong to the sect and receives all due punishment. Neither he nor the Qumran authors shows sympathy to those who try to occupy neutral ground. The last priests of Jerusalem, like other opponents, are characterized by their greed and injustice. Sect-Defectors Sects demand much of their adherents and they often lose members. Not only do many sects expect material, physical, and social sacrifices, all of them ask the new member to adopt a new worldview, to learn new strategies of action. In the case of Qumran, the authors indicate that they draw members from the parent Judaism. As such, the Qumran community would afford some common traditions and assumptions that would feel comfortable to the potential convert but at the same time would require a shift from the old worldview. In studying how culture functions in a high-ideology period, Swidler suggests that the group that is offering new strategies of action and patterns of organizing people is “in active competition with other cultural frameworks—at least in competition with common sense and usually with alternative traditions and ideologies as well.”138 That is to say, the Qumran community certainly competed with temple-based Jerusalem Judaism, which would have represented common sense, and it may also have found itself competing with other forms of Judaism as well.139 That the group did experi138

Swidler, “Culture,” 280. That Second Temple Judaism was marked by variety has become axiomatic, against the older view of a “normative Judaism.” How various the forms were depends in part on the angle one takes when investigating the groups. Regarding political 139

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ence defection from the sect is indicated in the chosen texts. The authors castigate the defectors as “traitors” and those who did “not remain steadfast.” The authors clearly announce divine reward (life, blessings, salvation from the house of judgment) at some future day of judgment for those who remain faithful to the sect and condemnation (destruction, curses) for the defectors. The Fourth Gospel, through its particular concern for “abiding” in Jesus (of the one hundred twelve occurrences of m°nv in the , thirty-eight appear in the Fourth Gospel, twenty-three in 1 John, and three in 2 John), reflects a similar problem of sect-defection. Like Qumran, it offers “life” (zvÆ) and not a place in the house of judgment, but a room in God’s house ( John 14:2) as a reward for those who remain faithful despite suffering much tribulation on account of their membership in the group. The Branch Davidian materials exhibit the same problem and a similar solution. The “World” Of the Qumran texts chosen for scrutiny, only 1QpHab evinces any interest in what David Koresh and, perhaps, the Fourth Gospel call “the world”; i.e., those who belong to neither the sect, its defectors, or the parent tradition. 1QpHab, in its typical “double-code,” interprets Habakkuk’s Chaldeans as “Kittim,” which signifies the Romans. The reader may refer to the analysis at 1QpHab 2:12–14 for a full description of their vices, but the Romans are primarily defined in terms similar to those used against the other opponents: they are violent, greedy, proud, unjust, and deceitful. Like all of the other opponents, the author confidently consigns them to divine destruction on the day of visitation. Because of their identical (degraded) natures, it is only fitting then that God will use the Romans to destroy the Jewish opponents of the sect. The Romans are presented as a violent force in the land of Israel, annihilating everything in

attitudes, there were Jews who were avidly nationalistic as opposed to those who embraced a more cosmopolitan stance. Regarding issues of personal piety, Pharisees may have adopted temple piety into their own and advocated that others do the same. Regarding particular doctrinal considerations, there was some variety among different groups of Jews. We might categorize varieties of Judaism by taking class issues into account. At any rate, Second Temple Judaism was a complex phenomenon, and the Qumran community would have found itself having to take that into consideration when seeking members.

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their path, but the author never indicates that the mighty forces had any particular cognizance of the small Qumran community. In this way the Romans differ from the opponents in Jerusalem who persecute the group qua sect. 1QpHab also mentions “the nations” but in a very stock way. They are idolaters who will receive destruction along with everyone else who does not belong to the Qumran community. Growing the Sect Like the Branch Davidian and Johannine communities, the authors of the Qumran texts looked to the parent tradition for new members. After all, all three saw themselves as the rightful and true incarnation of the parent tradition as indicated by Scripture. They all used Scripture to convince those who already lent Scripture authority that their group was the purified form of God’s covenant community. None of the Qumran texts chosen for study addresses the next generation. The same is true of the Fourth Gospel. The Branch Davidian materials show only very occasional and brief interest in the subject. Conclusion Sects are engaged in the production of culture, a production in which Scripture plays a key role and which is fundamentally shaped by the need to distinguish the sectarian culture from various external cultures, especially a parent tradition. That the sectarian Qumranians successfully created and maintained a community cannot be doubted given the fact that it seems to have perdured over time and created enough distinction for itself to be noticed by Josephus. Wuthnow suggests three requirements for the success of a religious group. It must: a) draw individuals into an intimate community; b) encourage them to worship; and c) provide them and their children with instruction. While none of the texts chosen for this study reveals concern for the instruction of children, they do demonstrate concern for the instruction of members and meet the other two criteria as well. All of the sociologists of religion cited in this study have called us to attend to the concrete social and historical circumstances in which a religious group functions to better understand the group. Swidler urges us to analyze “the structural constraints and historical cir-

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cumstances within which ideological movements struggle for dominance.”140 She contends: Culture has independent causal influence in unsettled cultural periods because it makes possible new strategies of action—constructing entities that can act (selves, families, corporations), shaping the styles and skills with which they act, and modeling forms of authority and cooperation. It is, however, the concrete situations in which these cultural models are enacted that determine which take root and thrive, and which wither and die.141

For both Qumran and its parent tradition, those “historical circumstances” included operating under Roman rule and, finally, suffering destruction by the Romans. Jerusalem fell to the Romans and the temple was destroyed, but the tradition arose from the ashes, perhaps in the form of Rabbinic Judaism. On the other hand, the Qumran community appears to have been destroyed. Thus, it “lost” its competition with the parent tradition.

140 141

Swidler, “Culture,” 280. Ibid.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE BRANCH DAVIDIAN COMMUNITY

We are entering into a period of time where the Bible is gonna be understood by somebody. David Koresh Ezekiel 21:31: ‘I will pour out my indignation upon you, with the fire of my wrath I will blow upon you. I will deliver you into brutish hands, those skillful to destroy.’ The Lord destroys with fire these days. David Koresh People like dead religions. David Koresh

Introduction On April 19, 1993, the group known as the “Branch Davidians” was catapulted to momentary notoriety when the United States government smashed through the walls of the citizens’ residence1 with military tanks and released CS gas into the home, which was housing some eight-five children, men, and women, all the while shouting over a loudspeaker: “This is not an assault. This is not an assault.” Within minutes the so-called “compound” and seventy-four of its residents were consumed by flames. Twenty-one of the eighty were children, not including the two fetuses, one seven months and one full-term, which appear to have been born “as the result of an evolutionary reflex, instants after their mothers . . . expired.”2 Before the

1 This act alone killed six mothers and children who, according to Coroner Rodney Crow, were crushed and suffocated “from the falling concrete in the bunker that fell on them.” Among those crushed was one of the two pregnant women. Dick J. Reavis, The Ashes of Waco (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995), 275. 2 Ibid., 277.

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fire was fully extinguished, the Mt. Carmel flag was replaced with an ATF flag. For the most part, interest in the group lingers only in the occasional TV episode devoted to “cults”3 and among a small group of scholars. The main question posed by James D. Tabor and Eugene V. Gallagher appears in the title of their monograph: Why Waco? As one of the few scholarly accounts of the group known as the Branch Davidians and its conflict with the American government, the work attempts to set the sect in its historical, religious, and social contexts.4 Tabor asks, “Who were the 130 Branch Davidians living at Mt. Carmel in the spring of 1993, how had they come there, and why did they choose to stay, even if remaining there might lead to death?”5 Contrary to popular sentiment, the Branch Davidians were not a cult; that is, they were neither a “new” religious movement nor did they hail from some exotic land. They were strictly a homegrown phenomenon sown in the Millerite movement, watered in the SeventhDay Adventist church, blossoming under the leadership of Victor Houteff. Historically speaking, scholars trace the heritage of Koresh’s group to 1818 when a Baptist named William Miller concluded that the Second Coming would occur in 1844. It did not. Disciples responded variously to this “Great Disappointment,” and one group, under the leadership of Ellen G. White, who had heard Miller himself on more than one occasion, formed the Seventh-Day Adventist church (hereafter, SDA). White was privy to numerous divine visions and revelations upon which she based her teachings. Among those teachings were Saturday Sabbath keeping; abstinence from meat, alcohol, tobacco, and caffeine; and a belief in the imminence of Christ’s return. She proclaimed that, though 1844 did not see Christ’s return to earth, it was the occasion of Christ’s entering the Holy of

3 April 1999 saw the airing of an episode of “First Wave,” which featured an alien taking human form, attracting followers, imprisoning them within a compound, killing those who crossed the leader, and treating the women as a personal harem. The episode used the words “cult” and “deprogramming” and presented both Jim Jones and David Koresh as analogues. Such is the influence the anti-cult network has had on the media and, in turn, on the American mind. 4 See also Stuart A. Wright, ed., Armageddon in Waco: Critical Perspectives on the Branch Davidian Conflict (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995). 5 James Tabor and Eugene Gallagher, Why Waco? Cults and the Battle for Religious Freedom in America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 23.

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Holies in heaven where he cleansed the sanctuary in preparation for his second advent to earth, at which time only Adventists would receive salvation. White died in 1915, and her writings remain authoritative for Adventists. The General Conference has never validated a new prophet.6 In the late 1920s one devoted SDA by the name of Victor Houteff set about to reform the church which had become, in his estimation, too lax.7 William Pitts makes this astute comment: “As has been the case with the leaders of countless other sectarian movements in the history of the church, Houteff did not initially want to start a new denomination. Rather, he wanted to reform an old one; but the old one did not welcome his reform.”8 By 1935 the schism could not be bridged; Houteff had been excised from the church roll, and the group broke away under the name Shepherd’s Rod. During WWII it changed its name to the Davidian Seventh-Day Adventists in order to enjoy the rights afforded to the SDA church regarding conscientious objection. Tabor, echoing the sentiments of Pitts, summarizes the break this way: “Although Houteff had never intended to separate from the mother church, after he was forced out, his movement officially took the name Davidian Seventh-Day Adventists. . . . As time went on and opposition from the main body stiffened, Houteff began to view the Seventh-Day Adventists as a ‘heathen’ apostate group, in contrast to his own small band of followers, whom he identified as the ‘remnant’ true church.”9 Certain characteristics of Houteff ’s teaching and leadership style perdured throughout the group’s history, many of them especially prominent in Koresh’s reign. First, Houteff never considered himself or his group as anything other than Seventh-Day Adventists. He continually attempted to influence the denomination and drew his adherents from it. Second, he declared himself a prophet and insisted upon the notion of “present truth,”

6 For a brief history of the Adventist movement, see Bainbridge, Sociology, 89–118. Pp. 110–17 are devoted to the Branch Davidians. 7 Indeed, Victor Houteff would not have been surprised to find a prominent sociologist of religion say this in 1997: “Despite holding Sabbath services on Saturday and stemming from the same millenarian tradition as the Witnesses, the SeventhDay Adventists fit right into the standard Protestant tradition.” Bainbridge, Sociology, 110. 8 William L. Pitts, Jr., “Davidians and Branch Davidians: 1929–1987,” in Armageddon (ed. Stuart A. Wright; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 23. 9 Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 35.

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a continual unfolding and further revelation of the truth as presented in Revelation and Daniel, the two most central books of Adventism. His treatment of all of Scripture as an enclosed universe allowed him to ignore any borders between individual books of the Bible and freely to illuminate any verse of Scripture by drawing on innumerable other biblical texts. This constant blending of literal and symbolic readings left room for an infinite amount of “play” and adjustment of interpretation as events unfolded. This method allowed every line, every word, every symbol in the entire Bible to serve, on some level, as a coded indicator for the contemporary situation, often directly addressing Houteff and his group. Even in cases where a text had an obvious historical fulfillment or point of reference, it could always have a “double” hidden meaning, revealed only through the “spirit of prophecy.” Koresh employed precisely the same methods in his own exposition of the Scriptures, often to the utter bafflement of the FBI negotiators.10

The King James Version served as the authoritative biblical text for the group. Houteff continued Ellen G. White’s ethical requirements regarding vegetarianism, alcohol, and caffeine. He settled his group at a site they named Mt. Carmel, where they lived together, studied together, sent out missionaries and tracts, attempted to gather the 144,000 (as indicated in Revelation), and awaited the second advent of Christ. Upon his death in 1955 Houteff was succeeded by his wife, Florence. Notably, she does not figure in Koresh’s own version of the group’s history. Her tenure was quite brief and she made no lasting contributions to the group. She did set a particular date for the second Advent, April 22, 1959, which inspired about nine hundred people to sell all of their possessions and convene at Mt. Carmel to await the Parousia. The day comprised yet another disappointment, which sparked a number of splinter groups, one of which fell under the leadership of Ben Roden who added the “Branch” to the Davidian SDA name based on Isa 11:1, Zech 6:2, and a revelation that Roden received that he himself was the branch referred to therein. In addition, he claimed other branches would be associated with him, basing such a claim on John 15:1–3. For the most part, Roden simply built upon Houteff ’s work, though he emphasized more heavily the

10

Ibid., 36.

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observance of Levitical feasts and the need to relocate the center of Adventism to Israel. He also injected new life into the anti-Catholic sentiments born in early Adventism. Ben Roden died in 1978 and was succeeded by his wife, Lois, only after she prevailed over her son George Roden in a battle for authority over the group. She continued the group in the same vein as earlier Branch Davidian prophets but provided the innovative teaching that the Holy Spirit is feminine. She died in 1986. Roden groomed as her successor Vernon Howell, a young Adventist who had joined the group in 1981 after being removed from the church rolls of his Seventh-Day Adventist church for causing dissension regarding his belief that the Adventist church had become corrupt and lax. Howell, too, had to contend with George Roden to assume leadership of the group.11 By 1988 Howell had ascended to unrivaled primacy, though he held de facto power as early as 1985. In 1990 Howell changed his name to David Koresh, the first name after King David and the cognomen after Cyrus, the Persian king and “christ” discussed in Second Isaiah. Koresh continued in the same vein as his predecessors, considering himself a prophet appointed by God, the recipient of divine revelations, and the final authority on scriptural interpretation. He inherited his exegetical technique from the former leaders, though his interpretation differed on a number of points, as we will see when we review his own teachings. His innovation lay in an unprecedented focus and concentration on unraveling the mysteries of the seven seals. He “corrected” the earlier leaders by showing that, though they thought they were about the business of gathering the 144,000, in actuality their responsibilities lay in different areas. This “correction” presents no problem for a group which embraces the notion of “present truth” and progressive revelation. His other innovation lay in his understanding of his role in building the House of David, which would rule in the millennium. On the basis of this, Koresh had sexual relations not only with his wife, Rachel, but also with many of the other women at Mt. Carmel, some married, some under legal age, and all with the consent of parents and husbands.

11 The details of the power struggle are unusual and interesting insofar as they include both a small gun battle between Roden and Koresh’s followers and a challenge from Roden to Koresh involving raising a corpse that Roden had illegally exhumed.

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In 1993 the group came under attack, ostensibly because of weapons violations and accusations of child abuse. The latter charge has never been substantiated though investigated more than once. Popular sentiment assumes that the conflict regarding weapons centered on stockpiling them; in fact, it is not illegal in Texas to stockpile weapons, and the charge had to do with a technicality regarding the assembling of the weapons. The group was partially in the business of selling the weaponry at gun shows. This is not the place to provide details about the legality or the wisdom of the ATF raid, though I urge the reader to familiarize herself with the scholarly analysis of the facts. That consensus exists as to the catastrophic actions sanctioned by the government is obvious throughout the literature, the less restrained providing titles to their work such as “Killed by Semantics: Or Was it a Keystone Kop Kaleidoscope Kaper?” or “Did the G-men Sleep Through Soc 100?” and the more restrained entitling their works “Misguided Tactics Contributed to Apocalypse in Waco” and “Cult Label Made Waco Violence Inevitable.”12 Everyone, however, agrees with Nancy T. Ammerman’s judicious observations: After the disastrous BATF raid on the home of the Branch Davidians, as the FBI settled into their long siege and the world’s news organizations created a small village outside the perimeter, scholars of religion—with near unanimity—shook their head in collective disbelief at the strategies being adopted by federal law enforcement. Did they not know that a group was more likely to rally behind its charismatic leader than to surrender to his enemies? Did they not know that apocalyptic beliefs should be taken seriously, that they were playing the role of the enemies of Christ? Did they not know that any course of action that did not seem to come from the Bible would be unacceptable to these students of Scripture? Did they really believe they were dealing with hostages? I have yet to encounter a single sociologist or religious studies scholar who has the slightest doubt that the strategies adopted by the FBI were destined for tragic failure.13

In March 1993 Philip Arnold of the Reunion Institute in Houston went on the air (radio) and discussed the relevance of Revelation, Koresh’s primary text, for the Branch Davidians’ self-understanding. 12 All four articles are found in James R. Lewis, ed., From the Ashes: Making Sense of Waco (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield, 1994). The authors and page numbers are as follows: Moorman Oliver, Jr., 71–86; William H. Swatos, Jr., 201–4; Stuart A. Wright, 95–98; and Robert C. Hicks, 63–66. 13 Nancy T. Ammerman, “Waco, Law Enforcement, and Scholars of Religion,” in Armageddon, ed. Stuart A. Wright, 282–83.

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Koresh heard the show on his transistor radio and requested that he be allowed to discuss Scripture with Arnold. The FBI denied the request but sent tapes of the broadcasts to the group. This prompted Arnold and James Tabor to develop a plan for communicating with Koresh. On April 1, 1993, they went on the radio and discussed the “prophetic technicalities of the Waco situation as it might be viewed by the Branch Davidians.”14 Koresh expressed pleasure that he had finally found biblical scholars who understood what he was trying to say, or at least spoke his language. The government did not capitalize upon this whatsoever. The night before the April 19, 1993 fire, Koresh began to write his document on the Seven Seals, after which he intended to come out. He did not, quite obviously, have the chance to finish it; however, he did make sure that what he had written made it to Tabor through one of his followers, Ruth Riddle. In keeping with Koresh’s wishes, Tabor has provided that material to the public.15 The conflagration ended the Koresh era of the movement. Eleven of the survivors have been incarcerated on conspiracy charges; others manage The Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, which distributes Koresh’s materials free of charge. To date, no new leader has arisen. This brief history has situated the group in its historical context, for, in one scholar’s words: “Only through an understanding of Adventist history can one ever hope to accurately comprehend Koresh within a meaningful context. The media and the federal government were satisfied with the generic label ‘cult’ leader, as if Koresh somehow existed outside time and place.”16 Tabor answers his own question, “Why Waco?” thus: scriptural interpretation and an apocalyptic worldview were central to this group and its leader, and this fact was never recognized or taken seriously by the negotiators, one of whom thought that Koresh meant aquatic animals when he referred to the Seven Seals. While some rely primarily on disaffected apostates from the group, Tabor interviews faithful Branch Davidians who survived the fire to discover why they followed Koresh and

14

Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 14. For a more detailed history of the Branch Davidians, see Pitts, “Davidians”; see also David Bromley and Edward D. Silver, “The Davidian Tradition: From Patronal Clan to Prophetic Movement,” both in Stuart A. Wright, ed., Armageddon. See also Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 23–51. 16 Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 43. 15

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lived in that community. Both the faithful and the apostates cite Koresh’s exegetical skills as the primary draw to the group. Scripture functioned as the central core of the Branch Davidians, whose quotidian Bible studies could occasionally last fifteen hours. These were people to whom Scripture mattered, for whom Scripture provided a symbolic worldview that approximated their experience. Initially, the group’s proselytizers attempted to interest these people in hearing Koresh, who was said to have great wisdom and skill in expounding the entire Bible, particularly the  prophets and the book of Revelation, in a way that none could equal. Koresh’s entire efforts rested on the fundamental presupposition, sacrosanct through 150 years of Adventist history, that humankind was living in the last days, and that God’s true people would be guided by the voice of a living prophet. The crux of the Davidian claim was that no one could have the wisdom and skill that Koresh had in the Scriptures unless God had inspired him or her. Koresh viewed the parent body of Seventh-Day Adventists as apostate and corrupt. . . . The absolute center of life at Mount Carmel was the Bible studies that Koresh conducted for the group. He claimed that those who lived at Mount Carmel were exposed to his deeper teachings, which had never been revealed before. Within the group there was a sense that God was beginning to reveal more and more truth and understanding, and Koresh and his followers spoke of this with joy and exhilaration. The Davidians thought themselves to be on the absolute edge of God’s latest revelation regarding all the matters that would pertain to the final events of history and their own vital participation therein—and it was all being expounded to them through the mouth of David Koresh.17

Already the reader might notice some similarities with the Johannine community, and there are legion others. For instance, just as Jesus is the center of the message and the center of Scripture, so too is Koresh for this group: “You reject Cyrus, you reject God.”18 More than once in the Fourth Gospel John has Jesus claim that to know him is to know the Father and to reject him is to reject the Father. John’s community was rejected by its parent tradition though the community saw itself as the true and pure form of that tradition. It saw itself as standing against the “world”; likewise, the Branch Davidians, accused of brainwashing people, claim, “No, the truth is,

17

Ibid., 26–31. David Koresh, Ancient of Days, audiocassette transcript, June 14, 1986, as quoted in Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 32. 18

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it is the world that is brainwashed.”19 An analysis of the group at Waco promises to provoke interesting questions concerning John’s community.

Primary Sources The primary evidence for the role of Scripture in the life of the Branch Davidians comes from the cassette tapes of Koresh’s exegesis and the final written transcript given to James Tabor. I will analyze such data to ask how Scripture functioned in that group, providing identity and boundaries for the group, legitimating the authority of its leader, and prescribing particular ethics. Tabor prefaces his own attempt to do so with words somehow appropriate to the Fourth Gospel: “Koresh and his followers lived within a coded world of biblical language that created for them a sacred context they perceived to be concrete, systematic, and reliable. Those ‘outside’ had few, if any, clues to comprehending this world, so that the most technical and vital aspects of the group’s understanding of Scripture simply became ‘mumbo jumbo’ and ‘Bible babble.’”20 Most of the cassettes that feature Koresh undertaking scriptural exegesis are simply recordings of group Bible study or worship.21 A few find Koresh alone elucidating Scripture for the sake of those about to receive the tape, whether it be a group in Australia (see Letter to Australia) or Wisconsin (Letter to Steve Schneider and the Wisconsin Brethren). These electronic epistles serve as do Paul’s letters to the early Christian communities. They are composed not for the sake of a general audience but seek to shape a community with whom there is already a connection and a certain amount of shared knowledge and worldview. As the common saying among Pauline scholars goes, then, “It is like listening to one side of a telephone conversation.” The tapes have been entitled, though it is unclear who has chosen the titles.22 It should also be noted that of the twenty-four I

19

Ibid., 33. Ibid., 52. 21 At the time of my inquiry, The Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund offered twentyfour cassettes through its catalogue. Those are the twenty-four alluded to above. 22 Because the Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund maintains a catalogue from which anyone can order the materials, it may be that the titles were assigned for the sake 20

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own, two are from 1984, three from 1985, four from 1986, eleven from 1987, none from 1988, and one from 1989. There is a gap from 1989 to 1993, and the only recording from 1993 is the March 2 radio broadcast conducted just after the February raid and just before the April destruction. Two are undated. The literary evidence consulted comprises The Decoded Message of the Seven Seals of the Book of Revelation, Daughters of Zion, Get Ready! The Message, Letter to Sister Smith, Letter to the Seventh-Day-Adventist Church, and Blow Ye the Trumpet in Zion, all downloaded from Mark Swett’s website. Though I have personally listened to them, I have relied upon Mark Swett’s transcriptions of Jonah, Judge What I Say, and Enter Into Rest—the Seventh Seal.23 Where I rely upon a transcript, I have indicated the name of the transcriber and the online location of the transcript; when I refer to the content of a sound recording, I indicate that by “audiocassette.” While I do not want to prematurely announce or provide a detailed summary of the similarities between the Branch Davidian and the Johannine evidence, it is useful to indicate some broad similarities and dissimilarities at the start. I suggest the following as points of similarity: 1) both express a concern for proper interpretation of Scripture; 2) both insist that only a privileged leader can execute such an interpretation; and 3) both are composed for a specific, already committed (albeit to various degrees) audience. But there are also points of dissimilarity. The Branch Davidian materials are abundant, they cover a period of nine years, they consist of both oral and written materials, and they contain materials directed to a variety of audiences. I distinguish four types of evidence and present them in descending order of priority: 1) that whose primary audience was the group residing at Waco; 2) that directed to Davidians residing elsewhere: Letter to Australia, Letter to Steve Schneider and the Wisconsin Brethren; 3) that directed to Adventists and lapsed Branches: Judge What I Say; and 4) that directed to complete outsiders including other denominations and “the world”: Radio Sermon and The Decoded Message of the Seven Seals of the Book of Revelation. I weight the materials composed

of ordering ease. The titles in the catalogue and those on the cassettes themselves do not always exactly agree. 23 Mark Swett maintains a website regarding Koresh and the Branch Davidians which is located at http://home.maine.rr.com/waco.

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for the sake of the community most heavily because I consider the Fourth Gospel and the Johannine Epistles to be materials of that order. My interest in the Branch Davidian material lies in its potential for illuminating understanding of the Fourth Gospel.

Analysis of Primary Sources I now lay aside what outside observers suggest about the Branch Davidians and turn instead to the Davidians’ own understanding of themselves, always with a view to what function Scripture plays in encouraging particular self-understandings and discouraging others. I report on the salient concerns, themes, and techniques that repeatedly occur in Koresh’s exegesis and use of Scripture. Does Scripture function for this sect as I have hypothesized it might for sects in general? Formation of the Sect All scholars who provide a history of the sect’s emergence record its birth date as 1929, under the leadership of V. Houteff. Every comprehensive historical account begins with William Miller ca. 1818. The Davidians themselves, however, trace their history to a much earlier date. Koresh finds in the biblical texts, especially Revelation, clear reference to the group’s continually unfolding history. Rev 7 figures prominently in this and appears in most of the study sessions. I commence my explication of how Scripture is used to highlight and make certain claims regarding the group’s emergence with an interpretive example that showcases other aspects of Koresh’s techniques as well: “And after these things ( John says) I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth” (Rev 7:1a). These are the mysteries, these four angels here. “. . . holding the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree” (Rev 7:1b). Now inspiration revealed through the seventh angel’s message that seeing that 144,000 have not been sealed yet, and seeing that there must be four prophetic messages holding the strife from the world against the church, we have to look today for a present interpretation of who these four angels are. Now we know that all the messages from Enoch

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all the way down to our day . . . well, let me back up. From Enoch all the way down to 1844, the judgment of the dead, all those messages are contained in Ellen G. White. Ellen G. White brought us the modern Israel of the day. Israel, Sabbath keeping people. That’s the third angel’s message. Now seeing that the Sabbath is still present truth, still present truth, and that the world is held accountable for knowing this true Sabbath, Saturday, that is one of the angels. But there is also another angel that joined the third angel that is important for the people to know about today, and that was Victor Houteff. His message was about the New Jerusalem. And then we had another message about the Branch name, the Branch He. That’s the other angel. But then to our surprise we have a sixth angel, Lois I. Roden, who brought us the Branch She message, who started revealing the mystery of Christ, the fullness of the Godhead bodily. Now these four angels Branches, use your senses, common sense, are the main four prophetic messages which the world is held responsible for today of knowing. Now remember, this is a revelation. And these messages hold, or keep the persecution of the world away from the church. And we also know something else, that another angel is ascending from the east. [The] east represents the old country but it also represents dry wind. Now notice, this angel comes and tells the four angels, “Do not hurt the wicked until we have sealed.” So right there people have always wanted to know when the 144,000 were going to be sealed. They’ve always . . . now wait a minute . . . Sister White was the first one who saw the vision of the 144,000. Her first vision was of the 144,000, so we know one of those four angels is Ellen White. Brother Houteff came teaching he was to seal them. And Brother Roden the same, and Sister Roden point blank says that her message is mainly for wave sheaf. So here’s another point. Wave sheaf is barley. We also know that Sister White, Brother Houteff, Brother Roden, Sister Roden, they never gathered the 144,000 to seal them. They’ve been gathering barley. Now, how do we know this? Remember, according to Ezekiel four, six grains, from Luther all the way to Ellen White, were to be combined into what? One barley cake. In other words, barley . . . Ellen G. White said that when all those who died under the third angel’s message would be resurrected in the special resurrection. So the third angel’s message gathered barley. And Victor Houteff came in Leviticus declaring to be the Vanguard, the first of the first fruits. So that right there, everyone who joined the Shepherd’s Rod became what? Not 144,000, they became wave sheaf, Vanguard. Then Brother Roden came declaring that all those who joined the Branch He message become what? Wave sheaf. And then Sister Roden comes along and point blank and teaches her message is to gather wave sheaf. So here we have four angels holding the winds, that the winds should not blow until the servants of God, the 144,000, the antitypical disciples of the day, are going to be sealed. So now it’s not until the angel ascends from the east, which would be the seventh angel. Let me

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  repeat now, Sister White’s the third, Brother Houteff is the fourth, Brother Roden is the fifth, Sister Roden is the sixth, and the angel ascending from the east is the seventh angel, the seventh angel saying, “Hurt not till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads with the seal of the living God.” Who’s the living God? The Sabbath seal, the Sabbath seal. Now the question is, we have been taught the Branches may say, that Brother Houteff was the seal with the New Jerusalem and Brother Roden sealed with the Kingdom seal but now someone here now is teaching that they don’t have these seals and [that is] true. Let’s see what the Bible says. We turn to Revelation, chapter 14, where again this same subject is being brought to view.24

A number of points should be noted. First, Koresh’s interpretation, what he calls “common sense,” is comprehensible only within a specific privileged context, that is, the Branch Davidians under Koresh. In-group jargon abounds, including “inspiration,” “revelation,” “the 144,000,” “1844,” “present truth,” “Ellen G. White, V. Houteff, B. Roden, L. Roden,” “Branch He,” “Branch She,” “wave sheaf,” “antitypical,” and “the special resurrection.” This reflects the use of rhetorical techniques to effect inclusion or exclusion. Second, the Davidians are an elect, elevated group, “wave sheaf,” “first fruits,” “modern Israel.” Third, Koresh uses Scripture to interpret Scripture. In elaborating upon the four angels holding the four winds, he declares: “So the third angel’s message gathered barley,” drawing upon Ezek 4. Through the quotation and interpretation of a single verse, Rev 7:1, Koresh has managed to achieve a number of necessary ends. He has helped to create a sense of “us” by appealing to the group’s history and grounding it not only in the more recent past, but tracing it all the way back to Enoch. As a part of that history, he indicates that the founder of the sect (and most of its subsequent leaders) enjoyed special insight regarding Scripture. He also elevates “us” in at least two ways, one overtly and one covertly, the former via such laudatory sobriquets as “first fruits” and “wave-sheaf ” and the latter by adopting Ellen G. White, a figure who belongs to the Seventh-Day Adventist Church, as the sect’s own and connecting her with three of the sectarian leaders, Houteff, Roden, and Roden when presenting an interpretation of Rev 7:1. Unlike the scholarly

24 David Koresh, Judge What I Say, audiocassette recorded April 2, 1985. Transcribed by David Bunds. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco.

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presentations, the move from White to Houteff is seamless and smooth in Koresh’s own. The interpretation does more, though, than simply rehearse the group’s past, as indicated by the scriptural verse; it sets boundaries, establishes the loci of authority for the group, and encourages perseverance. In this single passage we find Koresh using Scripture, here Rev 7:1, to establish boundaries in two ways. First, he declares that one of the four angels is Ellen G. White, whose primary message had to do with keeping the Sabbath on Saturday. He thereby enjoins his followers to observe a Saturday Sabbath, expressing concern for ritual practice. Second, by using jargon he draws a line between insiders, for example, those who understand what is meant by the mere mention of 1844 or Branch She, and outsiders, who do not. This reflects the use of rhetorical techniques to effect inclusion or exclusion. By means of Rev 7:1 Koresh insists that Scripture stands at the center of the group. When a question arises, which here regards Koresh’s teaching that some of the former leaders were mistaken about their role in the ingathering of the 144,000, Koresh says, “Let’s see what the Bible says.” While Scripture certainly does enjoy elevated status, Koresh’s interpretation makes it clear that Scripture’s authority for the group depends upon “inspiration revealed through the seventh angel’s message,” which, as the sect knows, refers to Koresh’s own message. His authority prevails. Koresh begins his interpretation of the passage by indicating an imminent period of trial: “There must be four prophetic messages holding the strife from the world against the church.” Later he says, “And these messages hold, or keep the persecution of the world away from the church.” By this he means to say that each of the four angels named, White, Houteff, Roden, and Roden, was about the business of gathering the 144,000, after which the consummation of the eschaton would arrive. None of them achieved it, so the Final Judgment, the wind, has been held back so that the seventh angel’s message could accomplish the ingathering.25 The former leaders would 25 For the tyro, some confusion inheres in the numbering of the angels. There are seven angels with messages in Revelation. The four angels who appear in Rev 7:1 are the third, fourth, fifth and sixth angels, and they divulged their messages to White, Houteff, Roden, and Roden, respectively. The first two angels are both connected with William Miller; the first angel’s message was that preached by him prior to 1844 and the second was that preached after 1844.

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not have seen themselves as the four angels of Rev 7:1 and clearly thought that they were, in fact, to gather the 144,000; it is only in hindsight, or with the aid of “inspiration,” “present truth,” and “new light,” that all of the group’s history up to Koresh has been placed in its proper perspective. Koresh’s message is the clarion call, and those who persevere will be “sealed.” By reviewing all of the primary sources one can compose a brief outline of the group’s self-presentation of its history. Note that Koresh clearly and unwaveringly identifies with Christianity in general and Adventism in particular. In the course of amply listening to and reading Koresh’s interpretation of Scripture, one pieces together Koresh’s view concerning how his group came to be. As he exegetes Jonah, we learn that it is a story of “movements who failed to progress into the ever unfolding ray of truth, the spirit of prophecy, God’s purpose on earth.”26 He quotes the first half of Amos 3:7: “ ‘the Lord God will do-’” and the group finishes it: “-nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.”27 It is a story of figures, prophets, arising in a denomination, insisting on reform among their brethren, having their message largely fall on deaf ears and, consequently, a new group developing.28 So, after centuries of “darkness”, which comprises the hegemony of the Catholic Church, Martin Luther appears and leads the Protestant Reformation. “They reformed in that they chose not to follow the heresies and the traditions of Rome, but to follow only the ‘thus saith the Lord’ as recorded in the word of God. Luther brought this out to them ‘the just shall live by faith as it is written,’ not as it is prelated through

26

David Koresh, Jonah, audiocassette recorded April 25, 1989. Transcribed by Mark Swett. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco. Though Houteff might not have conceded Koresh’s point, Koresh declares that Houteff ’s movement “failed,” at least in part, and explains why that happened: “They did the same thing they’d been preaching against the Adventists were doing—consulting with flesh.” David Koresh, Ezekiel 21, audiocassette recorded October 19, 1984. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 27 Amos 3:7 and Rev 10:7 comprise the most frequently completed Bible verses by the group. 28 This type of reasoning is evident in the following excerpt: “In 1929, the fourth angel came according to Rev 14:15. This message came to join the third angel of the dead—Ellen G. White’s message. This message came to announce the imminent judgement of the living. This movement was called The Shepherd’s Rod. It was given the greatest amount of light we’ve had heretofore. But folks were proud and arrogant so God took another route—the Branch Davidians. To begin the judgment at the house of God was to begin with the Davidians” Koresh, Ezekiel 21.

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the prelates, huh?”29 Though Luther “didn’t have all the light,”30 he “faithfully gave his message to the Nineveh of that time.” The Catholic Church rejects Luther’s message and the Lutheran church is born. Luther dies and the next prophet to arise is John Knox. As the “new ray of light” he attempts to reform his Lutheran brethren teaching that one must be born again by the agency of the Holy Spirit as testified to in Scripture. The Lutherans reject Knox and Presbyterianism is born. Wesley arises and exhorts the Presbyterians. “The Methodists had to finally become the Baptists, and the Baptists become the Adventists, and the Adventists become the Seventh-Day-Adventists.”31 The Adventists grew out of the Baptists insofar as William Miller, the founder of Adventism, was a Baptist. Often Koresh alludes to what “we as Adventists” know, believe, or do. For example: “We as Seventh-Day Adventists we might be more blind than we think. We might be more judgmentive [sic] of others and we need to judge ourselves a bit more”;32 or, “We know as Adventists we have the judgment message;” or, “What is truth? What is this message to the Laodicean church of which I, being a Seventh-Day Adventist, I know I’m a part because our denomination proclaimed the judgment according to Daniel’s prophecies?”33 Koresh sees the Branch Davidians as the continuation and perfection of the Reformation.34 In keeping with the observation made by sociologists of sectarianism, Koresh sees his group not as outside Christianity or Seventh Day Adventism but as a purified form of them, the genuine expression of what they call for. At the same time, he does recognize that his group constitutes a small, contentious part of these larger bodies. Koresh prefaces his explication of “the marriage feast” by saying

29

Koresh, Jonah. His dietary habits indicate that Luther still lacked some light. Koresh asks the group how Luther died and they answer, “Overeating.” He confirms that Luther “didn’t know how to regulate his mouth, did he? That had not yet been given to him yet, huh? Back in those days when you used to be sick, do you know what they prescribed to you? Food! You got a bellyache you need to eat some food. Any kind of pain in the stomach was you were hungry. Dark days in those days.” Koresh, Jonah. The Davidians, as Adventists, consider dietary habits an important part of the religious life, as we shall see further when discussing the group’s ethics. 31 Koresh, Jonah. 32 David Koresh, What is Truth?, undated audiocassette. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 33 Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 48. 34 David Koresh, Ezekiel 47, audiocassette recorded November 11, 1984. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 30

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that when people hear the explanation, “you’ll know why our little group is in so much trouble all the time.”35 Regarding his “little group,” Koresh originally taught that the group was living during the sixth seal and within that seal are four angels, White, Houteff, Roden, and Roden. In the latter part of his tenure, Koresh would claim that the seventh seal was being revealed via himself. For example: In other words, we want to know who the Lord’s feet are according to Zechariah 14. So therefore, if Uzziah represents Victor Houteff then Jotham must represent Brother Roden and Ahaz Sister Roden and then Hezekiah must also represent the seventh angel’s message. In other words we’re taking from Brother Roden’s writings and showing that Victor Houteff was Uzziah, then Jotham would be Brother Roden. Sister Roden would be Ahaz and Vernon Howell, the seventh angel’s message, would be Hezekiah.36

Though he traces the group’s history ultimately back to creation down through the Reformation, the period from White to Koresh commands the majority of discussion regarding the group’s history. As noted above, Koresh often chooses Rev 7 for study and rehearses the group’s history by interpreting Rev 7:3. Now remember these four angels here are standing on the four corners of the earth and they have power to hurt don’t they? That means their message has come, has been rejected, and now they have power to hurt. Now this angel who is ascending from the east has the seal of the living God. Who are these four messages—these four angels? It should be very simple. The only message that we’ve ever had as pertaining to judgment that deals with the 144,000—the first message that is, was contained in the third angel’s message, the Sabbath. The Sabbath seal, or the third angel of 1844, contains all the truth from creation to the time of Christ. And the third angel’s message was a review of that history, so that all the world would realize that the judgment for the dead had begun. The first vision that Ellen G. White had was of the 144,000. That’s simple isn’t it? Now if that interpretation is true then we should easily be able to see that as far as the world is concerned today; what four messages is all the earth responsible for? Well, the message of the Sabbath, the message of the Kingdom, the message of the new name both he and she. In other words, we

35 David Koresh, Voice of Fire, audiocassette undated. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 36 Koresh, Judge.

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see these four angels as Sister White, Brother Houteff, Brother Roden, and Sister Roden.37

In Koresh’s scheme, as in all Adventist interpretations, William Miller conveyed the first two angels’ messages, the first in 1833 and the second prior to 1844.38 On October 22, 1844, Christ entered the celestial Holy of Holies and at that time the judgment of the dead occurred. Also in keeping with Adventism, Ellen G. White represents the third angel’s message, which largely teaches the observance of a Saturday Sabbath. Koresh presents White as simply the next step in the unfolding Christian, meaning Adventist, meaning Branch Davidian, history: “Ezekiel 4 tells us that the third angel’s message consisted of six grains—six grains: Luther, Knox, Wesley, Campbell, Miller, White. But they were combined into what kind of cake? A barley cake. Branches, what is barley? Wave sheaf.”39 Victor Houteff offered the fourth angel’s message, which Koresh often refers to as the New Jerusalem. While all secondary sources trace the emergence of the Branch Davidian movement to V. Houteff in 1930 and indicate it in terms of a crucial disjuncture, Koresh once again moves immediately and smoothly from Ellen White to V. Houteff in his rehearsal of the group’s “myth of origins”: “Only those who joined the third angel’s message, who died when Sister White was alive, will be resurrected as wave sheaf. But when Brother Houteff came in 1930, he came to seal with the Sabbath seal . . . . Those who were Adventists, who joined the Shepherd’s Rod, became true Sabbath keepers and they received the Sabbath seal.”40 In fact, Koresh depicts a seamless history from the  to the present. Each successive stage represents further progress and “light” so that no earlier phase of Christianity enjoys a privileged status. Take, for example, his attitude toward Miller’s message in relation to Paul’s: “So William Miller’s message was just as much a part of the gospel as Paul’s message, wasn’t it? Those who rejected William Miller couldn’t be saved.”41 37

David Koresh, The Seventh Angel—Enter Into Rest, audiocassette recorded on January 31, 1985 in Jerusalem. Transcribed by Mark Swett. Online: http://home. maine.rr.com/waco. 38 David Koresh, Confusion, Part I, audiocassette recorded July 18, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 39 Koresh, The Seventh. 40 Koresh, Judge. 41 Koresh, Confusion, Pt. 1.

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Florence Houteff, who succeeded Victor Houteff, does not factor into Koresh’s version of the group’s history. Rather, he skips to Ben Roden as the bearer of the fifth angel’s message, which he usually refers to as the Branch He message. Lois Roden related the sixth angel’s message “revealing the mystery of Christ, the fullness of the Godhead bodily.” Branch She42 is the shorthand for Lois Roden’s addition of the feminine to teachings on God. While occasional reference is made to George Roden’s unjustified attempt to seize leadership of the group, he is never depicted as anything but an imposter. The group history moves from Lois Roden to Koresh’s own era of leadership, at which time the seventh, and last, angel’s message is revealed. That message primarily concerns the opening and interpretation of the seven seals, which reveals the final and ultimate truth about all matters, especially history, the restoration of the House of David, the meaning of Scripture, the solution to scriptural puzzles, and the nature and imminence of the apocalyptic eschaton. David Koresh’s ministry represents the time when the 144,000 would be gathered: “1985, the ministry begins and the sealing of the 144,000 is to start.”43 Thus, Scripture functions prominently in the retelling of the group’s history in at least three related ways. First, in the Davidians’ estimation, Scripture itself points forward to and adumbrates the group’s history. Second, the twentieth-century group looks back to Scripture and views itself in light of it. Finally, Scripture is used as an excuse to rehearse the group’s history. In other words, while the ostensible goal of a Bible study is simply to interpret correctly whatever Scripture is at hand that day, the choice of Scripture to interpret as well as its fittingness for presenting the group’s history is no accident. In this way, Koresh uses Scripture to build an identity for his group and the individuals who comprise it. He instills a bold confidence

42 The Branch “He” and the Branch “She” stem from a twofold observation. First, Ezek 36:8 refers to the mountains of Israel shooting forth their branches. Second, the Gospels contain the parable of the fig tree, a judgment parable in which “Matthew says the branch he, Mark says the branch she, and Luke tells us, learn the parable of the fig tree and all the trees” [italics mine]. Koresh, Judge. It is true that the KJV translates ı klãdow aÈt∞w “his” branch at Matt 24:32 and “her” branch at Mark 13:28, but why it ascribes a masculine translation to a feminine possessive remains a mystery. At any rate, like Rabbi Akiba and others, Koresh finds significance in such details. 43 Koresh, Judge.

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in this afflicted minority community so that, equipped with the certain knowledge that they are a privileged, elect group, they might persevere and abide with the group. Like the Qumran sect, the Branch Davidian situation corroborates Wuthnow’s claims about the importance of constructing and relating a group’s collective history: “These, like our individual stories, are perhaps myths that reconstruct the past and have minimal connections to actual history, yet they play a powerful role in making the sacred concrete. They do so by making it public, visible, so it can be internalized into the consciousness of individual members.44 Former Leaders and Their Works Koresh does more than list former leaders in his recounting of the group’s history; he also refers to their teachings as authoritative. For instance, while interpreting Ezek 21 Koresh claims, “And the only plan of salvation there is is contained in the everlasting gospel presented by William Miller. . . . You’ll also find that same gospel continued on by Ellen G. White, picked up again by Brother Houteff, also found through Brother Roden’s message. Sister Roden’s. And there is a seventh angel too.”45 Like all Adventists, Koresh often invokes the teachings of “Sister Ellen G. White.” At least as often he quotes the sect’s founder, “Brother Houteff ” who, like White, produced numerous writings. For example, “Our study aim—in the message of The Loud Cry—is to find out who are the foolish virgins. As we learn in 2nd Shepherd’s Rod 185, Brother Houteff says they’re the ones who had confidence in men. They saw no necessity for more light, more prophets, truth, or a message.”46 Elsewhere he narrates the group’s history as shown in Revelation and says this of Houteff: “In 1929, the fourth angel came according to Rev 14:15. This message came to join the third angel’s message of the dead— Ellen G. White’s message. The message came to announce the imminent judgment of the living. This movement was called The Shepherd’s Rod. It was given the greatest amount of light we’ve had heretofore.”47 It is clear from the cassettes that the group uses charts composed

44 45 46 47

Wuthnow, Producing, 61. Koresh, Ezekiel 21. Koresh, The Seventh. Koresh, Ezekiel 21.

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by Houteff and successive Davidian prophets. The following quote, whose context is an interpretation of Ezek 47, indicates both the use of such charts and the fact that Koresh views the leaders as Christ figures: Brother Roden hasn’t reaped the 144,000, though he will. Because he as Christ and Brother Houteff as Christ and all those from the third angel’s message on will be resurrected as Christ was resurrected to finish the work, to gather the 144,000. To prove it, Brother Houteff shows on the ceremonial chart he shows from 31 .. on the wave sheaf offering. And in 1844 the door was opened and he shows, what’s the symbol up there? Barley. Proves it to the tee doesn’t it?48

He alludes to the Rodens’ work rather than quoting them verbatim. For instance, “Sister Roden used to tell us that the days of creation was a compacted prophecy.”49 All of these examples attest to the group’s leaders as loci of authority and those that showcase Houteff show the sect’s founder to have special insight regarding Scripture. As important as they are, none of these writings enjoys the same level of authority as Scripture, and each is considered enlightened only insofar as possible given the limitations and constraints imposed upon it by virtue of its place in the progressive revelation of truth. So, in referring to White’s work, “The Great Controversy,” he cautions his listeners: “Sure, take ‘Great Controversy,’ read it through, but Ellen G. White will tell you point blank that she didn’t have all the light.” Loci of Authority Scripture Studying Scripture’s function within a group from a sociological perspective always involves a twofold task: (1) to understand how the group itself describes the role of Scripture in its midst and (2) to understand how an outsider might view the role of Scripture in the group. Anthropologists designate the former the “emic” function of Scripture and the latter the “etic” function of Scripture, but only with certain qualifications. First, the emic and the etic may coincide; second, the etic may be considered an addition to the emic rather

48 49

Koresh, Ezekiel 47. Koresh, The Seventh.

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than a denial of it; finally, where the emic treads on holy or supernatural ground, the etic cannot follow insofar as sociology and empirical analysis are inherently limited to natural ground. The overwhelming conviction presented in the exegetical tapes is that Scripture is the inviolable source of all truth. Quoting John 10, Koresh announces: “The law [by which Koresh means to indicate “Scripture”] cannot be broken.”50 Without question, Scripture stands at the center of the group’s activity and identity. Koresh conducted lengthy quotidian Bible studies, and the most common reason given by converted Davidians for why they chose to join the group was Koresh’s command, understanding, and ability to elucidate the Scriptures. Koresh continually emphasizes the centrality of Scripture: “How did Christ overcome? Well, I know one thing—Christ overcame through scripture. It is written. It is written. It is written. Christ also overcame through prophecy which was written.”51 And again, “Christ is quite well-versed in the scriptures . . . always referring, ‘It is written, it is written, it is written’ when he comes up against the devil.”52 He says, “God will have a people who will uphold the Bible and the Bible only.”53 After recapitulating Rev 8:1ff., Koresh warns his listeners: “You better start looking for the angel from the east who’s coming to gather.” The angel is going to seal 144,000 then a “great multitude.” The seventh seal opens and one finds “an angel at the altar only for those who know the truth. He has a censer for the saints. Saints believe in God’s word. They know what truth is. They believe God’s word.”54 By this statement, Koresh implies that Scripture and truth are coextensive so that what is said about one applies to the other. “What is truth? Well, let me tell you, the Lord is truth. He’s the Word. Look at this book—is it truth?” Truth saves: “Truth that doesn’t save you is gonna hurt you. The truth you don’t listen to is gonna 50 David Koresh, Radio Sermon, audiocassette recorded March 2, 1993. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. Koresh quotes John 10:34–35 very quickly. In 10:34 Jesus says, “Is it not written in your law, I said, Ye are gods?” The quote is actually not from the Pentateuch but from Ps 83, indicating that the fourth evangelist used the word “law” rather loosely. I believe Koresh simply misquoted 10:35 which says, “scripture cannot be broken” accidentally because of the presence of “the law” in 10:34. At any rate, he clearly intends to quote the verse and clearly means “Scripture.” 51 Koresh, What is Truth? 52 Koresh, Radio Sermon. 53 Koresh, What is Truth? 54 Ibid.

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hurt you. No ostrich games in God’s kingdom. . . . People today are not really concerned about truth.”55 In Koresh’s teaching, truth is closely bound to judgment and exists in unexpected form: “The prophecies teach something contrary to any human planning.”56 Scripture is the basis for all that the community says and does. “Being Christian, our foundation is supposed to be the Bible. . . . I’m building up to this point: we’re supposed to be Christians who are founded upon a sacred parchment known as the Bible which is a record of men who have gone before.”57 There is a war being waged and Scripture is a weapon, a sword: “The sword is a message that comes not to the world to destroy the wicked but to destroy or save the wicked in the church.”58 Who is the slayer of Ezek 21:11? Koresh asks. He answers: “Paul tells us that the word of God is a two-edged sword. The word of God given to a messenger is the same as giving a man a sword in a battle to obtain a victory.”59 When he refers to Paul’s words about the sword, Koresh must have Heb 4:12 in mind, implying that he assumes Paul wrote it. We should not be surprised to find Koresh picking up the sword theme in Ezekiel and Paul because, of the thirty-seven times the word appears, eleven are found in Revelation, Koresh’s favorite book. Of those eleven, six refer to the words that come from Jesus’ mouth (1:16, 2:12, 2:16, 19:15, 19:21, 19:21). Revelation is the Alpha and Omega of all of Koresh’s exegesis; it is the preeminent, ultimate canon within the canon. Next in respective order of importance stand Daniel, other prophetic texts, and then the remaining texts, but they hold significance only insofar as they illuminate Revelation. “You need to understand the full meaning of each passage of scripture, of the prophecies, and its relationship to the book of Revelation. This is the only way that we can have a complete understanding of prophecy and revelation and the way that they both work together. I’m sure we can all agree on this.”60 Koresh inherited this rating of the various texts directly from his predecessors, who received the tradition from Adventism itself.

55 56 57 58 59 60

Koresh, Koresh, Koresh, Koresh, Ibid. Koresh,

What is Truth? What is Truth? Voice of Fire. Ezekiel 21. The Seventh.

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He admits that people often ask him why he does not “talk about the gospel. How come you always want to talk about prophecy?” His response: Well, you see, prophecy, Peter tells us, is a light that shines in a dark place. Now, how would you have liked to have been Cyrus the King of Persia who came according to prophecy, and understood the prophecies, and demanded that Gath be returned to the land, and yet they did not because they did not fully understand the prophecies? How would you like to have been Alexander the Great who died a death because simply he was fulfilling prophecy, and knew not the day of his visitation? How would you like to be the Jews, who did not fully understand the significance of Daniel chapter nine so that when the Messiah came, he found them unprepared for his gospel, and yet today, we ourselves are in a period of time where we don’t even understand the prophecies?”61

Because one’s salvation depends upon it, knowledge or ignorance of prophecy is no trivial matter. In exegeting Rev 10:7, Koresh turns to Dan 12:1 for illumination: “And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people: and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation [even] to that same time: and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book.” Koresh then warns: Now brethren, honestly before God. If we do not know the events that are foretold by Christ’s own testimony, which Revelation 19 tells us—“the testimony of Jesus Christ is the spirit of prophecy”—then we can be assured that our name is not in that book, because how can we fulfill that which we know not? The Pharisees fulfilled prophecy. They killed the Son of God, did they not? They did, because they knew not the truth pertaining to the events of their day.62

He also turns to Joel to elucidate Rev 10:7 and reiterates the importance of understanding biblical prophecy: Let’s look into the book of Joel and see what wisdom God has placed there that we might understand these things; as God has given each messenger a portion of the truth we must harmonize each prophecy

61 David Koresh, Letter to Steve Schneider and the Wisconsin Brethren, audiocassette recorded in 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 62 Ibid.

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of the Bible that we may know the whole truth and be prepared to be delivered, because we are written in the book. If we are the ones who fulfill prophecy in these days then it is God who has spoken of us long ago that through the writings of the prophets God may foreknow us by the spirit of prophecy. If we do not fulfill God’s word we are not written in this book, but if we fulfill that which is written we are in God’s book as a surety, we are children of light.63

He himself indicates that the preoccupation with Daniel and Revelation stems from the Adventist movement. In other words, he did not invent the focus on those texts. One cassette opens with a song entitled “Understand,” which exhorts: I got a secret that I’d like you to understand; see the Book there in the angel’s hand; the book of Daniel’s got a message, a message for you. See the angel with a book in his hand, the book of Daniel, it contains the eternal plan, seven thunders won’t you see, won’t you listen to me, we’ve got the key.64

He claims that “Daniel fits hand in hand with Revelation because Daniel also includes all the other prophecies.”65 If we imagine a set of concentric circles with Revelation at the very center, the next circle would consist of Daniel, followed by the prophetic texts in general and, finally, parts of non-prophetic books which contain prophecy. The following statement is not atypical for Koresh: “Now look at ya. You mean to tell me you don’t know what the prophecies teach in the Old Testament? You don’t know what Isaiah 2 or Micah 4 teaches? Or Jeremiah 36 or Jeremiah 30? You don’t know what Ezekiel 36 or Zechariah 2 teaches? You mean to tell me you don’t know who that mighty army of Joel 2 is? Or of Isaiah 5? Who’s that bird in Ecclesiastes 12? What is the fall of Babylon according to Isaiah 13? . . . You don’t know what happens in Daniel 11 or 12?”66 Elsewhere he prods, “What does Isaiah say about it? What does Malachi? What does Ezekiel? What does Amos? Hosea [which he pronounces Ho-she-a]? Zechariah?” Or, “Do the prophets have

63 64 65 66

Ibid. Koresh, Voice of Fire. Koresh, What is Truth? Ibid.

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the mystery written within their pages? Isaiah 2; Micah 4; Ezekiel 36; Zechariah 2? Do they relate to Revelation 11?”67 At times Koresh invokes less prophetic books, but uses them only to pull out material related to prophecy. So, he turns to 2 Peter, but the only aspect that interests him is the prophetic one. After reading 2 Pet 1:15, he explains that Peter is “fixin’ to die.” He then reads vv. 16–21. Commenting on v. 19, he says, “Prophecy is like a light that shines in darkness.” In an interpretive move that downplays the authority of apostolic witness and moves the spotlight to biblical prophecy, Koresh interprets Peter’s words, “So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed,” this way: “Prophecy is an even more sure word than Peter’s own eyewitness.” He draws attention to the mention of “daystar,” which points to the future coming of Christ. He concludes his interpretation of the section with this assertion: “Since God can’t lie, all the prophecies must harmonize.”68 Koresh has an unwavering conviction that “prophecy relates to the future.”69 Early in his teaching he placed his community in the period of Revelation’s sixth seal, though later he would locate them at the beginning of the seventh. “You know the first cases to be judged are those who died in the flood. You know that as well as I do. And you know the seals represent judgments or truth that God has sent to the world since the beginning of the world, since Adam’s time. The sixth seal is our period of time. You know that. Doesn’t take a nit-wit to know those kinda things. But the key is, what do the symbols actually teach? Well, there’s an answer and it’s very clear.”70 Before leaving the topic of Scripture’s role as attested to by Koresh himself, it is important to note that only the King James Version suffices as the authoritative text for interpretation: “[S]tay with the King James and the original renderings but not these modern ones, you know, go with the original King James.”71 Again, Koresh inherited this contention from his predecessors. According to their self-presentation, the Davidians were a scriptural people. They spent a vast amount of time studying it, seeking to 67

Ibid. Koresh, Voice of Fire. 69 Ibid. 70 Koresh, What is Truth? 71 David Koresh, Root of Jesse, audiocassette recorded August 27, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 68

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understand it, and conforming to it. If Geertz is right that culture comprises “the publicly available symbolic forms through which people experience and express meaning,” then Scripture is the most potent cultural element for the group. These were not people who accommodated themselves to the host environment six days a week and made room for the rather odd world of Scripture once a week. For the Davidians, a group whose high degree of tension with its surrounding culture persisted for the course of its existence, Scripture was an absorbing state. The numerous examples given in this section attest to the primacy of Scripture’s authority for the Branch Davidians. Leader Koresh’s Authority To say that Scripture enjoys an authoritative position for the Branch Davidians is correct as far as it goes, but it lacks nuance. Repeatedly the centrality of Scripture is asserted, but nowhere is blind, unquestioning acceptance of it counseled. Quite the contrary. Koresh says: “See why we’re supposed to read the Bible? To see if these things really happened. That’s why the book was written—to judge these men. To see if they be of God or not.”72 Scripture stands under judgment by the group (“we’re supposed to read the Bible”). That is the first note of nuance. Such a proclamation may lead the listener to the assumption that this degrades the authority of Koresh himself as interpreter, that what we have here is the notion that any faithful believer (i.e., member of Koresh’s group at Mt. Carmel) is capable of exacting such judgments, but such is not the case. An extended exchange between Koresh and a potential Branch Davidian reveals, inter alia, that Koresh alone owns the right “to judge these men.” Our second note of nuance, then, is that, much like the Fourth Gospel, it is not Scripture itself which is authoritative, but Scripture as interpreted by the divinely inspired leader of the community. As a corollary, the “we” who are advised to read the Bible and see if it approximates history is not a group of individuals who have undertaken personal studies and then convened to discuss their insights in hopes of arriving at a consensus, but rather a “we” with Koresh at the head leading the group 72 David Koresh, The Assyrians, audiocassette recorded January 10, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX.

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qua group into “light,” as he often calls it. Conformity to Koresh’s own interpretation constitutes attainment of truth. So, while Scripture indeed enjoyed a central role at Mt. Carmel, it did so only as interpreted by David Koresh. He alone retained absolute authority over every aspect of life at Mt. Carmel, including the proper understanding of Scripture. Koresh exerts control, elevates his own authority, and puts members in their place all the while doing so in the context of scriptural interpretation. While interpreting Zephaniah, for example, Koresh is teaching about Assyria. A man raises his hand and Koresh says, “Yes, David?” and the exchange proceeds as follows: David: “Manasseh paid tribute to the king of Assyria.” Koresh: “Yes, he did.” David: “He was taken captive and taken to Babylon . . .” (at this point, Koresh talks over the top of him) Koresh: “But again, that title, the scholars have put that title of Assyria. He was taken where again David? You already answered your question. He was taken to Babylon. What was he taken to Babylon for?” David: “Babylon had not conquered Assyria at that time.” Koresh: “Yes they had. Yes they had.” David: “Assyria fell in 612 ..” Koresh: “Yes, that’s what the historians tell us, but there’s somethin’ I know that y’all don’t know yet.” At this point, Koresh turns to an amalgamation of Chronicles, Daniel, and Revelation, commencing with this comment: “Now, inspiration recently revealed—now, I don’t mean to throw our understanding of history away, but I’m just saying we have to understand something more clearly than any scholar has ever understood.” He goes on to ask whether Dan 7:8–9 concerning the little horn head has occurred yet. The group answers in the negative and Koresh confirms it, saying: “No, but Zephaniah is telling us about this event. See what I’m saying, David?” Apparently David remains unabashed because later in the study Koresh asks, “Now, you still with us David? Huh? Are you understanding this or are you having a problem over there?” To which David responds, “I don’t agree with that.” At this point Koresh assails him: “I know you don’t, but I don’t agree with the way you’ve been doin’ your past few weeks here either. I mean,

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you know, we’ve been talking in the past few years about inheritance and things like that. I’m here to warn ya. We’ve had this experience over and over again. God’s a little bit wiser than what we are and our human wisdom is gonna end up as ashes one of these days.”73 Again, David persists; this time he requests further clarification of Koresh’s assertion that “The Assyrians were the ancient Americans,” asking whether Koresh means that literally or symbolically. Koresh interrupts him and charges: “You’re not listening. I’ve been explaining it here for the past five minutes,” and goes on to exegete a passage of Daniel for him after which he declares, “You see, we’ve been having studies every day some of us here, right? So David and the Bonds are at a disadvantage because this is a very unique subject we’ve been opening up.” Strict boundaries are drawn between those who “understand” and “know” (language used by the Fourth Gospel for the same purpose) and those who do not. Elsewhere Koresh phrases it this way: “Not all of us here have the same knowledge of the truth.”74 Another lengthy exchange between Koresh and a visitor to the group whose sister appears to be a member provides a further example. Troubled by Koresh’s suggestion that he alone can interpret Scripture, she asks if it is not the case that God, by the power of the Holy Spirit, reveals things to the individual who earnestly studies. He responds negatively. At that point, a man asks, “Only you can give it?” to which Koresh replies with his own question: “Does that offend you?” The woman persists and Koresh peremptorily declares: “You may not, by asking God, understand the mysteries of God. God will do nothing but reveal his secret to his servants the prophets. Should you, should you receive an enlightened message from God then you’ll be sittin’ here and I’ll be sittin’ out there.”75 The woman chooses to leave, which Koresh says, “happens all the time.” Like his predecessors, Koresh claimed exclusive authority on the basis of his prophetic office, an office won not by human election but by divine designation. In this role, Koresh was privy to various genuine revelations.76 “But by the mercy of God, God allowed me

73

Ibid. Ibid. 75 Koresh, Confusion, Pt. 1. 76 As opposed to those that are invalid. For instance, referring to a book esteemed by some Adventists, Daniel and Revelation by Uriah Smith, Koresh assures his listeners that the information contained therein “never was a real revelation.” 74

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to have such a wonderful vision and a wonderful understanding of the seventh angel’s message.”77 In The Assyrians, dated to 1987, Koresh speaks of “The vision in Australia that I had.”78 Elsewhere he claims, “The Lord revealed a very special thing to me here recently”79 and “You see we’re in Jerusalem right now and the Lord revealed something to me here a year and a half ago. . . .”;80 given that he made this statement in April, 1985, this particular revelation must have occurred in 1983. Because he is an anointed messenger, a christ, there is no true knowledge and understanding apart from his teaching. Regarding the interpretation of Ezek 36, Koresh says, “Let each of the Branches read this at their own leisure, and then we’ll be sending out some studies on it because only inspiration can bring it to light.”81 He invites them to admit his privileged status: “Branches, judge in your own hearts. Everything that I’ve spoken, you know is true. Everything. Judge what I say. ‘And when this cometh to pass (lo, it will come), then shall they know that a prophet hath been among them’ (Ezek 33:33).”82 During a study of Hebrews, he quotes Heb 3:12 and then explains its meaning: “How do you depart from the living God, Branches? Well you depart from the living voice, don’t you? The living mouthpiece, right? No Prophet—no truth. That’s the rule.”83 In traditional prophetic style, the leader of the Branch Davidians is to be about the business of reformation. “Where there is any true reform in the Word of God there is a living prophet directing that truth. Otherwise, the church is as it is now.”84 Like the Fourth Gospel, so key is the leader that to reject him is to reject Scripture and, therefore, truth; like the Fourth Gospel, Koresh makes this point explicitly to the listeners: I myself, I been watchin’ people here for quite a while, observing, seeing how they respond to me, seeing how they respond to—well, some of you know how it is in the world when somebody gets mad, who do they get mad at usually? Me. That lady acted like she was [indiscernible word] yesterday, the lady we saw at the store. Right? I’m the devil and Paul’s the good guy, right? He’s the angel there with the 77

Koresh, Judge. Koresh, The Assyrians. 79 David Koresh, A Letter to Australia, audiocassette recorded June 14, 1986. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 80 Koresh, Judge. 81 Ibid. 82 Ibid. 83 Koresh, The Seventh. 84 Koresh, The Bird. 78

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  halo on his head. You see? Why does that stuff happen all the time for? Because they don’t have to accept Paul. You see, they can accept everything Paul says and have the light in their heads and still be lost. But the test is God has given them a person as a covenant to the people. That’s what Isaiah tells us, right? That’s the people who don’t like me from the day go when they just see me for some reason. ’Cause actually in their hearts they don’t like truth, you see?85

Compare Koresh’s presentation of himself here with John 3:19–21 and 8:31–59, in which Jesus indicates that rejection of him signifies rejection of truth and Scripture.86 All of this material corroborates the leader as a locus of authority. Given the elevated status of Scripture and its ostensible authority, it is surprising that Koresh frequently calls attention to discrepancies in the Bible rather than ignoring or denying that contradictions exist. He deals with this “problem” in three different ways. Sometimes he presents the disharmony as a mere fact to be accepted. For example, in his lengthy study on The Assyrians,87 he raises a number questions. For example, when exegeting Zephaniah, Koresh points out that “the destruction of the Land” prophesied has never happened. How does Koresh address the problem? We can’t worship Zephaniah just because he claims to be a prophet, can we? No. That would be stupid, wouldn’t it? We have to prove Zephaniah gibes with history. . . . Always there’s been people in Jerusalem. . . . I’m not gonna worship a dead prophet. . . . The prophet must have been stretching the story a little bit. If that’s the case, the prophet’s a liar. . . . What if the Bible’s a false book? And those of us who are traditional Christians accept it because everybody else does. And that’s tradition too, isn’t it? That’s no different than being a Jew accepting God because your fathers accepted him. And not knowing anything about God.88

85

Koresh, The Assyrians. The parallel is not exact insofar as Koresh speaks in own name, whereas the “leader” in the Fourth Gospel, that is, the author, speaks through the mouth of Jesus. The difference in strategy can be imputed both to the genre difference of the materials (the Fourth Gospel is a narrative, Koresh’s material is an exposition of Scripture) as well as the nature of authority in each group. The Branch Davidians had a tradition of successive authoritative leaders who were elected by God; the  evidences various techniques designed to lend authority to the text, from Paul’s insistence on his “apostleship,” to the practice of pseudepigraphy, to the use of characters in a narrative who promulgate the author’s own agenda. The Fourth Gospel falls into the last category. 87 Koresh, The Assyrians. 88 Ibid. 86

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He provides no immediate resolution but proceeds to the next verse of interest in Zephaniah.89 Finally, at other times he actually accounts for the discrepancies by appealing to “mystery,” which, along with other special jargon such as “revelation,” “present truth,” and “inspiration,” comprises an insider vocabulary, which simultaneously binds group members together more intimately and helps to identify “outsiders.” Discrepancies are only apparent, not actual: “The Bible does contradict itself, bite my tongue, according to man. With inspiration, we can find out why there’s a he tree and a she tree. . . .”90 Unlike, say, a Paul, Koresh is not content to shepherd from afar. His program for the ingathering of the elect seeks to draw all Branch Davidians to Mt. Carmel. In the context of interpreting the eschatological marriage supper on the basis of Zephaniah, Matthew, and Revelation, Koresh indicates this concern: Well, isn’t a marriage supper a sacrifice? Right? You’re blessed just ’cause you’re invited to it. Now you’re tenfold cursed if you don’t accept the response, you see, if you don’t give a response to the call. We had a letter from one of our professed Branches from Canada recently. And you know what they wrote to us? I’m telling this for the benefit of those who haven’t seen this yet. [He goes on to talk about a woman who has given various excuses for not migrating to Waco]. Now she can’t come because some guy proposed though he’s not an Adventist or a Branch or anything but yet he knows what she believes and doesn’t say anything about it. So she’s gonna go ahead and marry him. She hopes to see me in Israel in 1989 for the resurrection. Now that’s deception isn’t it?

He tells the group that his response is: “Well, you’re not gonna see nobody resurrected. You see? What is the test of this message? Come to Texas! Right? God didn’t say come to Texas meaning to stay where you’re at and get the truth ’cause you can’t get it. It’s impossible.”91 To have the group physically reside together, of course, draws clear boundaries between insiders and outsiders and serves as a crucible for inculcating the desired worldview and ethical regulations.

89 Koresh never seriously entertains the notion that the Bible could be a false book but aims rather to present the case as an uninitiated reader might see it. The point is, here he freely raises the problem and does not provide a solution. 90 Koresh, Confusion, Pt. 1. 91 Koresh, The Assyrians.

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Koresh’s Technique Koresh adopts a number of techniques and assumptions in his scriptural interpretation that deserve to be highlighted. First, one subtle technique of persuasion is his tendency to pepper his interpretation with the phrase, “It’s so plain” or “simple” or “clear,” leaving the listener little choice but to agree unless she wants to appear ignorant. One prominent feature is his dialogical style, even on a cassette that finds him alone. He tends to read a verse or two and then ask a question about it. He then either does or does not answer it. For instance, he reads Rev 3:20: “ ‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock.’ What door? Door of your heart? It doesn’t say that, does it?”92 This stylistic feature is important to note because it reveals information about both leader and group. First, one immediately realizes just how essential scriptural knowledge and interpretation is not only to the leader, but to the members. This is a people steeped in Scripture. Often Koresh will ask them to finish a scriptural verse. Quoting Rev 10:7, Koresh asks, “ ‘The mystery of God should be finished’; how?” to which the group as a group responds by completing the verse, thus indicating the importance of Scripture memorization.93 In addition to simple verse completion, another technique comprises his reading a verse and asking a question about it, the answer not being contained within the verse itself. So he cites Ps 20:1 and then asks, “Who was Jacob’s God’s name?” to which the group responds, “El-Shaddai.”94 Clearly the members have been initiated into special knowledge. What is even more striking is that the answer in no way furthers the exegesis, but appears only to “keep the group on its toes,” so to speak. Second, this method serves as a useful tool for Koresh insofar as it allows him to monitor the group, gauge what people are thinking, and correct any erroneous notions they may be harboring. For example, when exegeting Zephaniah he asks the group what is meant by “fish gates.” He receives no reply and promptly chastises them, saying in a frustrated tone, “Come on, you already forgot since the last Sabbath?”95

92

Koresh, What is Truth? Ibid. The context indicates that people would not have had their Bibles opened to Rev 10:7 but were quoting from memory. 94 Ibid. 95 Ibid. 93

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Third, it serves to draw potential converts in by alerting them to the fact that there are many important, even life-and-death questions to be answered about Scripture and showing them that, in fact, they do not know the answers. Koresh indicates that only by joining his group will they escape this fatal ignorance. Koresh, like all Davidians before him and probably most exegetes in Christian history, consistently assumes that Scripture helps to interpret itself. He has a penchant for visiting a plethora of biblical books while exegeting any given text. Sometimes the connection rests upon a word or phrase that appears in more than one biblical book. For example, a portion of The Assyrians study proceeds as follows. Koresh turns to Ps 20. After having the group identify the name of Jacob’s God alluded to in v. 1 as El-Shaddai (though the verse itself does not do so), Koresh then indicates that the “banners” mentioned in v. 5 refer to a prophecy, a prophecy also alluded to in Song 2:4 and Isa 13:2.96 Ps 20:8 speaks of those who are “risen” and those who are “brought down.” The former, he claims, is connected with Eccl 12:4, which reads: “And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of music shall be brought low.” This verse from Ecclesiastes appears often in Koresh’s exegesis and is considered prophetic. He designates those who are “brought down” as “the Assyrians.” Having made these connections, he observes: “We look at these prophecies and we look at this psalm and we

96 While suspect to modern sensibilities, this exegetical technique, whereby texts are connected and used to interpret one another on the basis of a single word or phrase that appears in both, appears in the  (e.g., Hebrews on “rest”). It is a regular feature of Rabbinic exegesis (usually treated under the rubric of gezerah shewa). For a brief introduction to  examples of Scripture used to interpret itself, see Michael Fishbane, “Inner Biblical Exegesis: Types and Strategies of Interpretation in Ancient Israel,” in Midrash and Literature (ed. Geoffrey H. Hartman and Sanford Budick; New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), 19–37; and James L. Kugel and Rowan A. Greer, Early Biblical Interpretation (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986). The balancing act between the authority of Scripture and the authority of Koresh is illuminated by Fishbane, “Inner Biblical Exegesis,” 34: One of the features that emerges prominently is the fact that for inner biblical exegesis there is no merely literary or theological playfulness. Exegesis arises out of a practical crisis of some sort—the incomprehensibility of a word or a rule, or the failure of the covenantal tradition to engage its audience. There is, then, something of the dynamic of “tradition and the individual talent” here—where the tradition sets the agenda of problems which must be creatively resolved or determines the received language which may be imaginatively reworked.

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realize it’s more than just somebody gibber-jabbering a poetic prayer, isn’t it? It’s more than what meets the eye. . . . But we have to have the mind of the prophet to see what he saw in order to discern it properly.”97 The technique appears again when Koresh attends to Zeph 1:8 and notices that a) there is no record of this invitation to sacrifice ever having occurred and b) Zephaniah refers to “strange apparel.” He gets the group to agree that this sounds like some  passages, moves to the wedding garment episode in Matt 22:11–14, and then declares: “So, the sacrifice [in Zephaniah] must have something to do with the wedding or the marriage.”98 He also alludes to the parable immediately preceding the wedding garment pericope, the invitation to the wedding feast (Matt 22:1–10). Eventually he ties all of this to Rev 19. He asks “Blessed are those who are called to the what?” and the group responds, “Marriage supper.”99 When exegeting the book of Jonah, they come upon this text: “Then said the Lord, ‘Doest thou well to be angry?’” Koresh puts this question to the group: “You hear that same statement echoed from something we heard earlier before. Who can tell me where that was echoed from?” The class answers: “Cain and Abel,” and Koresh goes on to draw an analogy between Cain and Jonah insofar as “Cain chose to do his own predetermined will.”100 Next, like his predecessors, Koresh relies upon typological interpretations.101 A few examples will suffice. According to Koresh, the seven seals of Revelation represent seven different eras. In his estimation his group was living during the sixth and seventh seals. He sees typology in the Passover. In the first Passover, the Passover of Moses, the Israelites put blood on their doorposts. In the time of Christ there was also a Passover and because “Judas didn’t put blood on the doorpost of his mind, he lost out. What about in our day? 97

Koresh, The Assyrians. Ibid. 99 Ibid. 100 Koresh, Jonah. 101 Koresh did not invent this technique. The  evinces this strategy (e.g., Rom 5:14; Heb 8:5) as does much subsequent exegesis. See Patrick Fairbairn, The Typology of Scripture: Viewed in Connection with the Entire Scheme of the Divine Dispensations (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1900); Richard M. Davidson, Typology in Scripture: a Study of Hermeneutical tÊpow Structures (Berrien Springs, Mich.: Andrews University Press, 1981); John E. Alsup, “Typology,” ABD 6:682–85; Kugel and Greer, Early Biblical Interpretation, 140–41. 98

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Will there not be an antitypical Passover for God’s people? That angel has a special message, a seal that’s gonna seal 144,000 and we’d better know what it is, especially as God’s people Israel today, Sabbath keepers.”102 Interpreting Ezek 21:2, “Son of man, set thy face toward Jerusalem, and drop [thy word] toward the holy places, and prophesy against the land of Israel,” Koresh declares this “a message for Jerusalem, antitypically, the church.”103 In explaining why the death of Christ abolished the necessity of animal sacrifice, Koresh asserts that in Christ’s cross “type met antitype.”104 Regarding the former leader of the group, Ben Roden, Koresh avers: “We know that brother Roden was a type [sic] of anti-typical [sic] Nebuchadnezzar.”105 A final example: “And when David destroyed the Philistines, we find in Revelation that’s a type of the last days when it says, ‘Who [is] like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him [Rev 13:4]?’” The answer: “A stone cut out of a mountain [Dan 2:45].”106 The next salient feature is Koresh’s system, which he claims stems from the Adventist church, for the reckoning of prophetic time. In discussing the half hour of silence mentioned in Rev 8:1, Koresh says, “A half an hour equals thirty minutes but in prophetic time each day for a year which, as Adventists, we use a lot. It’s actually seven days.”107 The seven seals of Revelation represent seven historical periods: In 1833 the first angel’s message began to sound. 1844, the Spring, the second angel’s message. 1844, the Fall, shortly afterwards, the third angel arose judging the dead. Other messengers have come proclaiming to be the fourth, fifth, and sixth. What do they teach? Well, to make a long story short, we know one thing: if they teach anything it better be according to the Bible.108

Koresh unabashedly claims that biblical prophecy refers to Koresh’s contemporaries. He substantiates this claim in part by pointing out that many of the events predicted in prophecy have yet to occur, which leaves the reader with two explanations: either the prophets 102 103 104 105 106 107 108

Koresh, Koresh, Ibid. Ibid. Koresh, Koresh, Ibid.

What is Truth? Ezekiel 21. The Assyrians. What is Truth?

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were wrong and the Bible lies or the prophets were right, the Bible is trustworthy, and these events are taking place now. Koresh opts for the latter: “The unique thing about these prophecies [referring to Isa 7–8], though misunderstood by all Christiandom [sic], is these prophecies are written in a way to where when you go back and research history, the majority of what the prophets wrote never came to pass.”109 Rev 10:7, “But in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall begin to sound, the mystery of God should be finished, as he hath declared to his servants the prophets,” serves as a key text for the claim that the prophecies apply to modern times since adherents of the sect are taught that Koresh, as an inspired prophet, has the message of the seventh angel. According to Koresh’s teaching, before his ministry it was simply impossible to understand certain aspects of Scripture because the seventh angel had not yet come with the key necessary for unlocking the truth. Early in his tenure, he preached: “The sixth seal is our period of time. You know that. Doesn’t take a nit-wit to know those kinda things.”110 Koresh later preached that he and his contemporaries were living during the shift from the sixth to the seventh seal. In his words, “The seventh angel’s message is here. . . . The future is laid out plainly.” Like many biblical numerologists, Koresh privileges the number seven: “[Adventists] will admit that everything God does is in sevens.”111 In his interpretation of Ezek 21:2, “Son of man, set thy face toward Jerusalem, and drop [thy word] toward the holy places, and prophesy against the land of Israel,” Koresh declares that Jerusalem antitypically refers to the church and the “land of Israel” refers to the United States. He supports his interpretation by pointing out that Lois Roden, a former leader of the group, taught this. “Today modern Israel is embedded where in the world? In the United States. This is where the first, second, and third angels’ message has come in the judgment of the dead.”112 The Ammonites of Ezek 21:28 comprise “people of the world,” and the “land of origin” in v. 30 is the United States. As part of his explication of Ezek 21, Koresh alludes to the struggle for power between himself and George Roden. He insists that Roden is not a legitimate candidate because he has not

109 110 111 112

Koresh, Koresh, Koresh, Koresh,

The Assyrians. What is Truth? Cf. Judge What I Say. What is Truth? Ezekiel 21.

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been appointed by God and, therefore, does not have the gift of inspiration. At the end of his exegesis of Ezek 21, Koresh offers an application of the text to Mt. Carmel: “A prophetic message has come. George is losing his position. He’s lost it. By his own works he shows he doesn’t have the spirit. God is purifying his church.”113 When asked by a member of the class whether the prophecies were not originally intended for the prophets’ contemporaries that they might repent, Koresh emphatically replies, “No. That’s a mystery. No, because God knew they wouldn’t. . . . The books they wrote were for the future.”114 Koresh’s position is fully summarized in this statement: “That prophecy was put there specifically for us.”115 The Branch Davidians clearly assumed that Scripture referred to their contemporary situation, that they were the telos of Scripture. The relationship between Scripture, Koresh’s technique and authority, and the history of the sect is complex and not easily separated into its various components. Koresh’s intention and ability to shape his community into a preconceived mold affected his interpretation of Scripture. Recall Walzer’s understanding of Calvin: He “opportunistically” revised and reworked his doctrine in order to achieve a particular psychological effect. Calvin needed potent theological imagery to inscribe within his congregants the rigorous control of thought and action he sought. Indeed, tightly argued doctrine, austere ritual, and potent imagery were the weapons Calvin crafted to teach a new ethos. But doctrine ‘caused’ ethos only in an immediate sense. In a larger explanatory perspective, commitment to a specific ethos, a style of regulating action, shaped the selection and development of doctrine.116

Were one to replace “Calvin” with Koresh, one would arrive at an equally accurate conclusion. Attention to ethics will corroborate this. Ethics David Koresh used Scripture in all of the ways described above in order to inculcate a worldview that would mark the boundaries between the group and outsiders. He wanted the Davidians to think

113 114 115 116

Ibid. Koresh, The Assyrians. Ibid. Swidler, “Culture,” 280.

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a certain way, and he attempted to accomplish that by invoking certain biblical texts and providing an authoritative interpretation of them. Discerning what he wanted them to think is somewhat more difficult than discovering what he wanted them to do. One of the most transparent indicators of group boundaries appears in the form of ethics. Earlier I argued that sects represent what Swidler has called “unsettled lives.” In unsettled lives, culture serves to create new strategies of action, and one should expect to find a high level of ideology, defined as “explicit, articulated, highly organized meaning systems (both political and religious).”117 Throughout this study I maintain that Scripture comprises a powerful, efficacious subcategory of culture for groups which claim it as a locus of authority. Though never counseled to “wear orange,” Koresh’s followers were exhorted to adhere to particular rules of dress and other behavior as presented below. The angels of Rev 7 must hold back from hurting the earth so that people might have one more opportunity to hear the message of salvation as presented by Koresh. In defense of his argument that people have spurned Sister White’s message, he specifies: “They’ve not been health reformers, they’ve not been dress reformers. . . . They do not believe specifically in inspiration. . . . They don’t keep the feasts. . . .”118 Like all Adventists, Koresh insists on Saturday Sabbath observance,119 and one obvious identifying characteristic of the group’s opponents is failure to do so. So important was the issue of Sabbath observance that, according to Koresh, it comprised the third angel’s message. His interpretation of Rev 10:6 contains the following observation: “This is the God of Sabbath. The Sabbath, the fourth commandment of God, contains the sign and the seal that those who worship on that day worship not a god, but the living God of creation.”120 They keep Levitical feasts. They celebrate Passover. “This last Passover, those who didn’t keep it with us, they have the mark of the beast.”121 They participate in twice daily Bible studies: “If you

117

Ibid., 278. Koresh, Judge. 119 In explicating the meaning and requirements of Sabbath, he relies at times on Heb 4. It should be noted that such an interpretation is standard in scholarship. See Harold W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989). 120 Koresh, The Seventh. 121 Koresh, Ezekiel 47. 118

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don’t study [Scripture] every day, you cannot be familiar with it.”122 This indicates concern for ritual practice. Strict123 dress codes in accordance with modesty apply. In interpreting Isa 3:9, Koresh enjoins: “Ladies, button up your shirt; close up the slits. Guys take off your shorts and put on pants.” He is especially dismayed at what he finds at Loma Linda University, an Adventist school, “a fashion show you never saw before. Peacocks would be ashamed.”124 Smoking and drinking are prohibited. Interpreting Ezek 33:27–28, in which God promises destruction for Israel, Koresh warns: “A lot of people like George [Roden] and certain of his following believe that God’s going to bless the land over here like it is. But when you drive down the middle of Jerusalem and see pictures of indecent women and the way the people dress over here and all the smoking and drinking and the different crimes that are taking place now, believe me, God is not going to bless these type of people.”125 Strict dietary regulations apply to both adults and children. Interpreting Ezek 33:24, “Thus saith the Lord God; Ye eat with the blood and lift up your eyes toward your idols and shed blood: and shall ye possess the land?” Koresh proclaims: “No meat eater is going to receive the kingdom of God.”126 In the context of Isa 2:8, Koresh says: “There’s more to the beast than just Sunday-keeping. The beast says, ‘It’s alright to eat a Snickers candy bar.’ God says it’s not. The beast says, ‘That soda pop’s good for you.’”127 That their food intake could be minimal at times is implied by his explanation that “justification by faith is saying: ‘Thank God for the little food Vernon gave me today.’ If it weren’t for God, you’d get discouraged. ‘If it’s up to you, I hope Vernon’s hand slips tomorrow and I get a few more beans.’”128 By the time the ATF attempted its “dynamic entry,” Koresh apparently had a change of heart regarding active vs. passive resistance.

122

Koresh, The Assyrians. “Strict,” of course, is a decidedly relative term and is used in comparison with the group’s surrounding environment since it is only by such a comparison that one can label a group “sectarian.” 124 Koresh, Confusion, Pt. 2. 125 Koresh, Judge. 126 Ibid. 127 Koresh, Confusion, Pt. 1. 128 Koresh, Ezekiel 47. 123

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Formerly he had taught: “At least the people that follow the seventh angel’s message don’t go around shooting guns at people and things like that. We got to come to our senses. We let the Lord be our protection.”129 Traditionally Davidians, like their Adventist brothers and sisters, refused to participate in military combat for fear of killing another Christian. The issue of military service never arose in Koresh’s tenure or teaching. The ATF raid, however, found the Davidians relying on firearms for protection and, indeed, killing ATF officers in the process. Whether or not this indicates an ethical modification is difficult to say. Nowhere on the cassettes, even those recorded during the time of the siege, does Koresh advocate the use of violence against the ATF or the FBI. Rather than proudly assuming credit for “killing infidels,” the Davidians spent more time trying to persuade outsiders that the government was the aggressor. Furthermore, the Davidians deny stockpiling weapons in an apocalyptic manner; they insist that they owned so many weapons because they earned money by selling guns at gun shows, which in fact they did. From an emic perspective, it appears that there was no ethical modification. From an etic perspective, one might make a case contrariwise, but the argument would remain speculative. The call to leave one’s home and follow Koresh to Waco deserves mention under ethics. As noted above, Koresh contended that, unless one did so, it was impossible to obtain truth and salvation since he alone had been designated to reveal it. It almost goes without saying that having the group reside together was the surest way to directly and completely influence the thought and behavior of the members. Such a context would serve as a crucible for what Swidler calls “establishing new strategies of action.” She maintains that “when people are learning new ways of organizing individual and collective action, practicing unfamiliar habits until they become familiar, then doctrine, symbol, and ritual directly shape action.”130 When people share a common life as the residents of Mt. Carmel did, eating, sleeping, studying, raising children, and maintaining the property together, the opportunity to make the “ideology” become “common sense” is greatly enhanced. The central ritual of the group was worship and Bible study, which occurred twice a day. Thus, two of the requisite features delineated by Wuthnow apply at this point: a) 129 130

Koresh, Judge. Swidler, “Culture,” 278.

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encouraging members to worship, and b) providing members and their children with instruction. The third, drawing individuals into an intimate community, will be discussed later in the chapter. How does Scripture fit into the group’s ethics? Recall Swidler’s inquiry into “chunks of culture,” which I argue includes Scripture: “A crucial task for research is to understand how cultural capacities created in one historical context are reappropriated and altered in new circumstances. . . . The significance of specific cultural symbols can be understood only in relation to the strategies of action they sustain.”131 It is clear that vis-à-vis the Davidians, Scripture is a “cultural capacity created in one historical context” and “reappropriated and altered in new circumstances.” Just as each ancient Jewish group, including Qumran and earliest Christianity, reappropriated Hebrew Scripture, so also all Christian groups, including the Davidians, reappropriate and alter the Old and New Testaments to serve new circumstances. Rarely do any two groups derive the exact same strategies of action from Scripture, which indicates that Scripture does not perspicuously necessitate particular strategies of action. As Swidler reckons: “Culture does not influence how groups organize action via enduring psychological proclivities implanted in individuals by their socialization. Instead, publicly available meanings facilitate certain patterns of action, making them readily available, while discouraging others.”132 This means that it is wrongheaded to assume that the group simply “followed scripture” any more than any other radically biblically based group does. Rather, one must recognize that, in his efforts to wrest control over Scripture from the parent community, Koresh made choices about which Scriptures to focus on and what meanings to extract and simultaneously closed down certain potential meanings the text might yield. But he did not work from scratch; instead, his own method of wresting Scripture, not only from the ancient church but especially from the SDA church, was influenced and constrained by the “publicly available meanings which facilitated certain patterns of action.” That is, he was constrained by SDA beliefs dating back to the nineteenth century and by Davidian beliefs that had been promulgated since 1929. This section has provided ample evidence for the Branch Davidian concern for boundary setting by means of ethical imperatives. 131 132

Ibid., 283. Ibid.

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178 Opponents

In Koresh’s rhetoric, one can identify all of the opponents postulated on the chart; he inveighs against “the world,” against sectdeserters, and against the parent tradition, which must be defined as twofold for Koresh: he opposes both “the church” in the larger sense and the main body of Seventh Day Adventism. He also treats scholars with scorn. The World As part of a running commentary on John 12:23–44, Koresh indicates his attitude toward “the world” when he quotes and interprets John 12:28a. The whole passage is cited because it displays not only his view of “the world,” but also some of his common exegetical techniques (e.g., appealing to the authoritative writings of Ellen G. White and using other biblical passages to inform the present one), pedagogical moves (e.g., use of the interrogative to elicit agreement with his teaching as when he asks, “wasn’t it?” or “hasn’t it?”; exhortation in the form of “We need to open our eyes”), and thematic concerns (e.g., the necessity of observing Sabbath): Now we want to read this scripture very carefully, Branches. Verse 28 again, “Glorify thy name.” Ellen G. White tells us that the name of God is contained in the fourth commandment. Well, what is that name? Sabbath. Now remember the Sabbath is a memorial of creation. Those who worship the Sabbath, worship the God of creation. In other words, the whole testimony of the Bible is that “thus saith the Lord.” God said something. And when God said it, those who would see what God spoke, it was good. In other words, everything that God spoke in the days of creation was good, wasn’t it? We need to open our eyes. It was good. That’s our whole hope of salvation, is receiving that first dominion, the first kingdom. But because of man and his evil works, God’s word has been twisted up, muddled, it’s been blackened. And the effects of that has been seen in the world, hasn’t it? But now notice. When God created everything by the spoken word, God created the Sabbath as a memorial, and we were to rest in that word, weren’t we? In other words, the Sabbath is a memorial of all things that God created, and to enter into God’s rest is to believe in his word, and his word is also made manifest by his name [emphasis added].133

133

Koresh, Judge.

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In interpreting Rev 7:1, Koresh says: “And these messages hold, or keep the persecution of the world away from the church.”134 The world is a persecuting force. “Christianity” and “the world” are mutually exclusive spheres. When interpreting Rev 15:2 Koresh denotes the victors as those “who don’t mix Christianity with worldliness.”135 Koresh interprets the Ammonites of Ezek 21:28 to be “people of the world.” As is the case with Pesher Habakkuk, the ruling government constitutes an antagonistic force for the Davidians. In explicating Rev 15:2, Koresh declares simply: “the beast represents the earthly governments.”136 God’s judgment lies in store for these governments: “Fools!! Get wise, wisdom says!! Get wise!! The man on the white horse comes first!! That’s Psalms 1, that’s Psalms 2, that’s Psalms 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!! Learn ’em!! That’s what God says is going to happen!! Do you hear?! Do you understand!! It’s war!!! These governments of this world are coming to an end.”137 The Church Koresh refers to those in the larger church as “Sunday-keepers,” as opposed to his own group, which he refers to as “Sabbath-keepers.” For example, he refers to a “book in Adventism called Daniel and Revelation by Uriah Smith. It’s kinda crazy. . . . The majority of the information came through ‘Sunday-keepers.’ The information never was a real revelation. Since when do we get our truth from people who aren’t in the truth?”138 Koresh draws heavily on truth/falsehood language and accuses his opponents of trafficking in the latter; “Sunday-keepers” are counted in that group. Koresh claims that he was formerly Baptist and therefore attended church on Sunday. Then he discovered that “that wasn’t biblical but traditional.” He imagines entering a Baptist church as a Seventh-Day Adventist and telling them to keep the true Sabbath, Saturday. He suggests they are unlikely to welcome his biblical insight and change their ways, though

134

Ibid. Ibid. 136 Ibid. 137 The Foundation. Audiocassette recorded October 1989. Transcribed by David Bunds. No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco. 138 Koresh, What is Truth? 135

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he does hold out the possibility that “there may be somebody that is honest and sincere, but today with as much light as there is, everybody knows that the Sabbath is Saturday.”139 Most, however, are unlikely to change. Why? “Most of ’em [i.e., Baptist pastors] are getting paid a good pay check, they got a nice church, they got people who want an easy way to be saved, who like to sit in their seats and hear a watered down sermon. He’s [i.e., the pastor] gonna make you sound like a fanatic because you know the Bible.”140 Though he recognizes that Christ rose on a Sunday, he explains that, like Ellen G. White, he finds no evidence that Scripture abrogates the Saturday observance; rather the Bible says “not one jot or tittle will pass from God’s law.”141 The Branch Davidians alone represent the only true religion and are characterized by truth, spirit, heaven, salvation, and light; all others are false, carnal, earthly, damned, and consigned to darkness. Koresh designates the “nation not desired” which is to “gather together” in Zeph 2:1 as “the Assyrians,” which he further defines as: “American-sponsored religionists. I say religionists because they’re Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Catholics, Jewish. All false apostate religions are trying to put their headquarters over where? Jerusalem.”142 Elsewhere, he inveighs against “the Papacy and apostate Protestantism.”143 Even when Koresh attacks “the world,” he makes it simultaneously an opportunity to attack the church: Let me try to attack things this wise. You been to several churches and things just didn’t hit you right. Well, remember today when we go to church we’re looking for God. And this seems to be something that the whole world takes for granted. Everybody claims to know God or to have an experience of God. At least those in religion do. And yet you know as well as I do that they’re no different than the world is. The world and the church go hand in hand today. We know that the name Jesus Christ is basically an excuse for sinning. Tammy Baker and Jim Baker, Oral Roberts, Robert Schuller and all these people spending multi-mega bucks. The church’s music, Amy Grant, Sandi Patti, it’s all ‘la-la-la-la-la’ type of big mega bucks, ‘I’m secure.’”144 139 140 141 142 143 144

Koresh, Ibid. Ibid. Koresh, Koresh, Koresh,

Voice of Fire. The Assyrians. Letter to Australia. Voice of Fire.

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In the same way, when interpreting Ezek 21:3 for his listeners he insists that the sword “is a message that comes not to the world to destroy the wicked but to destroy or to save the wicked in the church. . . . Take notice; there are many people in the church of God today that are quite wicked. They’re trying to do the best that they know how to do. Let’s call them Jacobites. Jacob was a wicked man. Like the angel who wounds Jacob, the person who wields the word will wound the Jacobites for the sake of truth.”145 Perhaps his most transparent critique of the churches comes in his Radio Sermon. Addressing Rev 19:2, he says: [The whore] will probably be responsible for the blood of God’s servants because she probably won’t know where they’re coming from. So we know that Babylon is a big whore, right? I mean she’s not really very faithful when it comes to God’s word, when it comes to knowing God’s truth and I bet you she’s the kind of person that’ll claim to be with a guy, love a guy and not even know where he’s coming from. That’s how most whores are, isn’t it?

He then applies this to those who claim to love Jesus Christ yet do not even know where the seals are found in the prophecy.146 The (Other) Adventists Never in their history did the Branch Davidians consider themselves as anything other than “true” Adventists. From their inception they sought reform within Adventism. This is why they continued to attend Adventist worship services and conventions and cause disturbances in hopes of attracting members. Though ethnically and nationally diverse, most of the sectarians had been Adventists before joining the group. As already discussed, they share not only the Bible with their parent tradition, but also a common history, which began with William Miller and a common respect for the writings of early leaders, most notably the prophetess Ellen G. White. How to wrest control from the parent tradition over proper interpretation of both the Bible and the writings of Ellen G. White? The first is accomplished by showing that the sect’s leaders have been granted special knowledge by means of inspiration, revelation, or visions. This is claimed, of course, for Houteff, the Rodens, and Koresh. Laying rightful claim 145

Koresh, Ezekiel 21. Koresh, Radio Sermon. Not only Revelation, but at least also Isa 13, Hosea, and Joel speak of the seals in Koresh’s estimation. 146

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to White is accomplished by showing that the Adventists misinterpret her. For example, Koresh narrates his attending a convention of the Reformed Adventists and engaging in debate over Ellen G. White’s teaching that Jerusalem will not be purified until God does so with fire. “This guy was smilin’ real big, and all that, you know, because they think this is after the thousand years, at the end of the millennium. But Sister White’s correct. It’s just that their application of her writings is wrong.”147 As with all those who oppose or even remain indifferent to the sect, judgment lies in store for these other Adventists. After quoting Ezek 35:15, which promises desolation for all Idumea, Koresh provides this interpretation: “Now we know that Idumea represents the fleshly Jews and also the modern SDA and Davidian groups who have not progressed with present truth. . . . And verse fourteen of Ezek 35 tells us that when all the earth shall rejoice, the Lord’s going to execute his judgments upon the Adventist people and upon, well, Zech 14 is going to be fulfilled also at that time.”148 The main complaint that Koresh voices about the Adventist church is its failure to admit any “present truth” or “new light” in the form of an authoritative prophet after Ellen White’s death in 1915. “The Adventist church is a rejected church. They are not God’s people. They have not been for years. You see? That’s why they had no commission in the world. They haven’t ever preached the Sabbath as it is to be preached. They don’t keep it as it is to be kept. They know nothing of it ’cause they have no spirit of prophecy.”149 This precludes their ability to interpret Scripture correctly, which results in doctrinal error, a failure to understand how modern events reflect God’s plan for the eschaton, and a loosening of morals. Koresh’s shorthand for these charges is “Laodicean,” a reference from Revelation that describes the church at Laodicea as “lukewarm”; the Laodicean church was to be vomited out of the mouth of Christ. This sobriquet is reserved not only for the SDA church but also for those in the sect who may not adhere strictly to the coherent, hermetic, overarching ideology presented. What Koresh calls “Laodicean,” Swidler would called “settled lives.” As all scholars of Adventism note, the

147

Koresh, The Assyrians. Koresh, Judge. 149 Koresh, The Shower Head Tape, audiocassette recorded August 24, 1987. Transcribed by Mark Swett. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco. 148

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SDA church has reduced its tension with its surrounding sociocultural environment to such an extent that Bryan Wilson can say that Adventists “have gradually accepted a less intensely sectarian stance, and in some respects have come closer to a denominational position.”150 Mainline Adventism, as the dominant Adventist group, incorporates diversity and tolerates inconsistencies as characteristic of “settled lives” as previously discussed; sectarian Adventism, as represented by the Branch Davidians, does not. A final result of what Koresh considers “apostate Adventism” is its tendency to dismiss or persecute the “true Adventists,” that is, the Branch Davidians. By claiming that Houteff, the Rodens, and Koresh are the genuine successors to the leadership of Adventism; by insisting on a singular interpretation of Scripture that admits no diversity; by calling followers to a radical and costly discipleship that entails leaving job and family to abide at Mt. Carmel; and by instituting a lifestyle with rigorous ethics regarding food, dress, and twice daily worship, Koresh validates Hostetler’s observation cited in chapter two: “A sectarian movement must establish an ideology different from that of the parent group in order to break off relations with it. A sect must establish cultural separatism, involving symbolic and often material as well as ideological differences, from those of the parent group.”151 The one correction to his observation, which applies at least to the three sects under study here and probably all sects, is that none seek deliberately to break off relations with the parent group; rather, they seek to reform it, convert it, and embody its truest form. In accounting for the relationship between the Davidians and the SDA church, Meeks’s description of the Johannine community’s struggle with its parent Jewish tradition applies. Of the Fourth Gospel he writes: What drove the Johannine Christians to make just these connections, in the face of the social pain that it obviously cost them? We must remember that the social pain was but the negative side of the process by which they had become a distinctive community. . . . In this Gospel, “abiding” in the truth about Jesus has positive and negative social dimensions: It

150 Bryan Wilson, Social Dimensions, 140; quoted in Ronald Lawson, “Seventh-Day Adventist Responses to Branch Davidian Notoriety: Patterns of Diversity within a Sect Reducing Tension with Society,” JSSR 34 (1995): 327. 151 Bainbridge, Sociology, 264.

184

  entails stalwart “love” for fellow disciples of Jesus and brave separation from those who reject him. The claim that constitutes the identity of this special group of former Jews is that in their abiding in the Son of Man they have been granted what the whole of Israel’s Scripture and tradition— both Jewish and Samaritan versions—pointed to. . . . They alone are Israel. . . . They are epitomized in one of the first of those “given by God” to Jesus, Nathanael the élhy«w ÉIsrahl¤thw. Here we have the very model of a sectarian consciousness. To “Pharisees” and to ordinary Jews of all kinds, as the narrative makes clear, these claims did not fulfill but rather subverted the classical Scripture and traditions. These [Christological] claims broke the community with other Jews by their audacity, their exclusiveness, and their persistence.152 (emphasis added).

Likewise, we may wonder what drove the Davidians to make the connections they did in spite of the social pain it cost them. And, likewise, we realize the concomitant benefits of belonging to a distinctive, intimate, exclusive group. Like the Johannine community, the Davidians claimed that they, rather than the parent tradition, constituted the true Israel. Like the “ordinary Jews” of the Gospel’s world, the SDA church did not concede that the Davidians fulfilled Scripture but asserted that they had subverted it. The SDA excised Davidians from church rolls, allowed them no part in national meetings, and, at the time of the 1993 destruction, officially denied any connection with them whatsoever. Unlike the cases of the Fourth Gospel and Qumran communities, we have external evidence that reveals the stance of the other Adventists to the Branch Davidians. The official response, by which is meant that generated by the General Conference of Seventh-Day Adventists, to the Branch Davidian debacle indicates no ties between the Branch Davidian Seventh-Day Adventists and Seventh-Day Adventists. One press release declared: “Although the Seventh-Day Adventist Church has no affiliation with the Branch Davidians or any other cult, our hearts go out to those who have lost loved ones in the Waco, Texas, tragedy. As compassionate, peace-loving people, our prayers are with these families;”153 this, in spite of the fact that another work published by the church’s official publishing house avowed: “because Davidian theology could be built only on Adventist

152

Meeks, “Equal to God,” 318–19. Lawson, “Seventh-Day,” 329. The liberal Adventist response, according to Lawson, did not seek to distance itself from the Davidians. 153

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theology, you had to have an Adventist understanding of the Bible even to understand what the Davidians were talking about.”154 In Producing the Sacred, Robert Wuthnow suggests that we consider religious groups to be in competition with one another, and this is evidenced well in Koresh’s treatment of relevant opponents in this regard, namely, the church universal and the SDA church. Wuthnow suggests three dynamics that obtain in the conflict. First, isomorphism contributed to the group’s continued existence from 1929 on and to whatever proselytizing success it could be said to have had. That is, it resembled the wider church and especially the SDA church enough to survive in the host environment, which has always paid at least considerable lip service to the validity of Christianity. Second, the group definitely specialized and thereby retained its distinctiveness. The most salient specializing feature was its commitment to continued prophecy dispensed exclusively by Davidian leaders from Houteff to Koresh. Where the group failed in the competition was in the third dynamic, “selective adaptation,” which has to do with how well the group “fits” its host environment. Obviously, the wider church and even the SDA defeated the Davidians insofar as the Davidians maintained such a high level of tension with their host environment that they were destroyed. This section testifies to opposition to and from the parent tradition. Sect-Defectors Koresh recognizes the cost of abiding with him and, as does Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, he announces rather than suppresses this news: Always the Lord brings darkness before he brings light, and I’ve been goin’ through some darkness. . . . But now things are starting to come to light. See, there’s a portion of time when God’s people will have to flee out of the land and go to another place until something happens before another phase of work comes into existence. There’s a lot of details we don’t know yet. But these truths have to be very, very intricately presented because wouldn’t it be terrible to be a Judas amongst us? And hear these sacred truths and yet not be firm and determined to follow truth no matter where it could lead us? Right? So we have to each step of the way count the cost. Now we first began with several people in the beginning of the message and some of these people have fallen away. And it’s for their own benefit too. 154

Ibid., 330.

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Because it’s a whole lot better to fall away at the beginning of the message and be lost than it is to be right there at the very end and decide to take a shortcut. Everyone has to search their heart and see if they are willing to go the way the Lord says he wants you to go, putting aside their own feelings and opinions.155

In one fell swoop, Koresh accomplishes three ends. First, he passes judgment on apostates by saying they have fallen away and are therefore “lost.” Second, he uses their example to encourage the rest of the group to adhere to the sect. Their reward will come when, “at the very end,” that is, the final judgment, they will be found to have “go[ne] the way the Lord says he wants [them] to go.” Finally, he encourages perseverance through difficulty, exhorting them to “follow truth no matter where it could lead,” and “each step of the way count the cost.” The following comment on Jesus’ proclamation in the Fourth Gospel, that Christ came not to condemn the world, indicates that apostasy among the sectarians created concern: “But if they would not accept that truth then the truth in the end would judge them because they would try to establish their own righteousness and they would lose out, the same as many Branches have done these days”156 (my italics). This also castigates potential and actual deserters. Koresh acknowledges that he is not the first Branch Davidian leader to encounter defection. The problem of apostasy visited earlier incarnations of the sect as well, and Koresh teaches that Heb 3:11 (“So I sware in my wrath, ‘They shall not enter into my rest’”) refers to the deserters: “So those who came in and joined with the Branch movement under Brother Roden; they started looking at his faults and his frailties and then they found some excuse to jump off the boat.”157 I have previously referred to the struggle Koresh endured to assume leadership at Mt. Carmel when Lois Roden’s reign concluded. Koresh and his followers did not reside there at the time. Her son George tried to assume power. During this time Koresh recorded Ezekiel 47, which he intended to send to Mt. Carmel. He accuses those living there of trafficking in unrighteousness and sets their misdeeds in the larger context of the cosmic struggle between good and evil repre155 156 157

Koresh, The Assyrians, 572. Koresh, Judge. Koresh, The Seventh.

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sented in Revelation: “So this is why there’s so much fighting and stinginess and lying and theft and adultery and things taking place on Mt. Carmel, because people have the mark of the beast.”158 Like the author of the Fourth Gospel, the Branch Davidians know schism, and the fact of schism is an opportunity to identify true followers and liars: We have a schism amongst us. We have schism. There is competition now. I’m happy. I’m happy to see that the Spirit now has opportunity to manifest herself in a way that we’ve never before seen. That we might discern the children of light and the children of darkness. There are those who have walked with us in the flesh. They have not been children of light. They say they have seen, they have seen, but now you see they have seen nothing.159

Koresh understands well that the most intense hatred often appears between those who are most alike. He warns: The last persecuting power, the one that’s gonna be the most fierce in opposition against the church of God, the seventh church, the complete church, is gonna be those who at one time were the closest of brethren, and who have the greatest amount of light and who yet have turned and apostatized [sic] from following progressive truth. They will be our worst enemies. We don’t have to fear Catholicism or the apostate Protestantism. What we have to fear are those who at one time shared the work with us and who are the farthest from us by being the closest to us.160

It is not entirely clear whether he here implicates apostates from the sect or the Seventh-Day Adventist church. Because his next words are “You can have two members in one room, both of them doing the same worship in the flesh but one doing it of the spirit and the other doing it of the flesh; one of them through spiritual knowledge, another through carnal knowledge,” he appears to refer to sect members. Either way, it displays the same principle evident at Qumran and in the Fourth Gospel, namely, the most vehement vituperation flies at those closest to the group, for that is where the real struggle, including the appropriation of Scripture, lies. Also like the Fourth Gospel, the Branch Davidians present the devil as holding sway over opponents and remain on guard against 158 159 160

Koresh, Ezekiel 47. Koresh, The Foundation. Koresh, Ezekiel 47.

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his beguiling ways. For instance, Koresh compares those who will not know that the Lord’s hand is lifted up (Rev 10:5) with those who, in 1844, refused to believe that Christ had entered the Holy of Holies. The devil is responsible for this unbelief: “The devil took over and the devil was leading them and has ever since been leading those people who will not progress with present truth.”161 On at least two different occasions, women preface their questions to Koresh with the disclaimer, “You might think I have the spirit of the devil.”162 Scholars Finally, scholars usually appear as opponents: “Now we should, as Adventists, be scholars today. And very few Adventists are scholars. Even our scholars are stupid people. That’s hard to say, isn’t it? Can you imagine that the majority of theologians in the world are ignorant of what the Bible is teaching?”163 Castigating one member who invokes his historical knowledge to contest Koresh at one point, Koresh responds: “Your scholarly studies are of benefit for the sake of argument to those who wanna go by that type of study,”164 implying that Koresh does not. Scholarly studies, which are devoid of inspiration and recent revelation, are relegated to the category of human wisdom, about which Koresh happily announces: “We have the privilege of breaking down the walls of human wisdom.”165 To show his disdain for mainline theological education, Koresh turns to the example of Christ: The schools of Israel ordained by the Sanhedrin and also the Pharisees were schools similar to the ones of our own theological schools of today of which the careful student of Scripture observes that nowhere is it written in the Gospels that Christ ever attended these schools, but at the age of twelve he did enter into the Temple and had a most unique and interesting discussion with the religious leaders by which they were quite amazed at such a young lad’s knowledge of Scripture.166

All of these groups, the world, the church universal, the SDA church, sect-defectors, and scholars, are cultures or subcultures against which

161 162 163 164 165 166

Koresh, Koresh, Koresh, Ibid. Ibid. Koresh,

Judge. Confusion, Part I. The Assyrians. Radio Sermon.

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the Davidians vied for dominance and all are considered opponents by the Davidians, though the converse is not necessarily true. Far from belligerent animosity, the church universal and scholars do not even express interest in the small sect. While the SDA church has never recognized the validity of the group, it has never actively persecuted it. For the most part, the SDA church has simply ignored the group, paying attention to it only when the Davidians forced it to by disrupting national meetings or local church services. The one opponent that has shown the least interest in the Davidians throughout its history is the one group that proved most fatal, that is, the United States government (one part of “the world”). Anyone who doubts the accuracy of speaking of a “culture” with respect to the government agencies dispatched to contend with the Davidians is referred to Nancy Ammerman’s work, “Waco, Federal Law Enforcement, and Scholars of Religion.”167 I address the argument at greater length in the conclusion of the chapter, but the thrust of it appears in this sentence referring to why those government agencies ignored professional advice from scholars of religion: “Those ears were deaf for a number of reasons, many of which have to do with the training and culture of the FBI”168 (my italics). Why the two cultures clashed and why the government culture emerged victorious depends upon the concrete historical and social circumstances obtaining in 1993 in the United States involving at least internal government politics, law enforcement culture, the anti-cult network, the media, and a popular emphasis on the welfare of children. Having presented evidence regarding the Davidians, Koresh as their leader, and Koresh’s attempt to shape his group in a very particular way using Scripture, I can use Garfinkel’s work to help explain how Koresh achieves the vilification of certain groups as “opponents.” Recall that a successful status degradation requires that the denouncer (here, Koresh) must present himself or herself as an authentic representative of the witnesses (the Davidians) and must show that he or she shares the same essence as they. As the leader directly chosen by God and privileged to have received numerous revelations and visions from God, Koresh unquestionably serves as the authentic representative. Koresh must separate the denounced from

167 168

Ammerman, “Waco,” 282–96. Ibid., 292.

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the denouncer and the group, drawing boundaries so rigid that distance between the two sides is guaranteed. “The denounced . . . must be ritually separated from a place in the legitimate order, i.e., he must be defined as standing at a place opposed to it. He must be placed ‘outside,’ he must be made ‘strange.’”169 One way to accomplish this distance is to employ typology, a favorite technique of Koresh’s. This allows the group to think in uniform and dialectical terms such that they “should not be able to contemplate the features of the denounced person without reference to the counterconception”170 so that character traits are further clarified when viewed in light of their opposites. Once Koresh has established such a situation, the group is constrained to regard the denounced as entirely “other” and logically deserving of denunciation. For Koresh, of course, the types are drawn from the Bible. So, the government and those who traffic with it are “Babylon.” Non-Davidian Christians are those referred to as the “whores” in the books of Hosea and Revelation, those who claim to have a commitment to Christ but are not faithful to him. On the other hand, the Davidians are the “bride” referred to in Revelation as well as Ps 45:10. A potential sect-defector is spoken of as being “a Judas,” meaning that he or she appears to be of one nature, godly, but are actually of another, diabolical. Koresh succeeds in drawing such stark boundaries not only because he serves as an authentic representative of the group and draws attention to what Garfinkel calls the group’s “ultimate values” but also because those “ultimate values” are purportedly ensconced in Holy Writ so that even if the group could disagree with Koresh, it certainly could not disagree with Scripture. Judgment lies in store for all opponents of the group. Interpreting Heb 3:11, Koresh says, “Always, men fail to hold to the promises of God because they know not when prophecy is gonna be fulfilled, nor [do] they know how they’re gonna be fulfilled. So they fell short of perfection. They don’t enter into that rest because they do not endure the trial. ‘So I sware in my wrath, “They shall not enter into my rest” God says.’”171

169 170 171

Garfinkel, “Conditions,” 423. Ibid., 422–23. Koresh, The Seventh.

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Growing the Sect Koresh proselytized. He believed that his ministry represented the last chance for people to receive inclusion in God’s salvific plan. Toward this end, every cassette contains such comments as: “I want to be part of the 144,000 or at least a part of the ‘great multitude.’ How about you?”172 or, “We’re trying to agitate your thinking; we wanna get you to study. Because you see, we have answers to this [i.e., to identifying various figures in prophecy]. It’s very clear. The seventh angel’s message is here.”173 Or: My job is to prove to you that the Bible in regards to the prophecies harmonize one hundred percent with Daniel chapters eleven and twelve. My challenge is for you to come, to get into contact with us to ask the questions, to demand answers in the name of the Lamb. . . . Brethren, my name is Cyrus. The message is from Israel. The truth is in the Bible. Give us a call. Remember the question: What is Truth?174

Koresh took some interest in proselytizing those who had sampled churches but had not found a home there: “You been to several churches and things just didn’t hit you right.”175 He took more interest in those who already considered themselves Christian, as when he says: “I am trying to proselate [sic]. I’m trying to say ‘Why don’t you come serve my God. You serve Jesus Christ, the Greek name, Iesous Christos, you see. I serve God whose name is the Word.’”176 In his Radio Sermon just before the annihilation of the Davidian residence and residents, Koresh appealed to all Christians. He first invokes Rev 19:7, which refers to the marriage of the Lamb and the bride who has made herself ready. He then appeals to Ps 45 to explain that the wife of Rev 19:7 is none other than the woman of Ps 45:10, the daughter who is to “forget [her] own house,” which he interprets as a call to forget one’s own denomination.177 But as we have previously noted and as Koresh’s Letter to Steve Schneider and the Wisconsin Brethren shows, Koresh primarily targeted Adventists. In that study, he undertakes an exegesis of Rev 10 for

172

Koresh, What is Truth? Ibid. 174 Ibid. 175 Koresh, Voice of Fire. 176 Koresh, The Bird, audiocassette recorded August 24, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. 177 Koresh, Radio Sermon. 173

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them and upon arriving at verse six which, in part, declares “there should be time no longer,” he reminds them, “Now we as SeventhDay Adventists understand this to refer to prophetic time.”178 The focus on Adventists as potential members comes as no surprise given that Koresh’s teachings and exhortations would be quite difficult to understand for anyone who had not been previously initiated into Adventism. As one scholar has noted: David Koresh had grown up as an Adventist, had attended an Adventist school, and was an active church member until he pressed divergent views too strongly and was disfellowshipped by his congregation, at which point he was drawn to the Branch Davidians. . . . Nevertheless, he continued to speak in the ‘prophetic-apocalyptic idiom of Adventism.’ . . . Under his leadership, the Branch Davidians had earnestly pursued Adventists, and were especially successful in gaining recruits in Hawaii, England, and Australia. . . . Consequently, the vast majority of those living, and killed, at Mount Carmel at the time of the BATF and FBI raids had been drawn recently from the ranks of Adventists, where they had often played active and even prominent roles in their congregations. Following Davidian practice, the names of many of them were no doubt still on the rolls of Adventist churches; most of them had family members who were Adventists.179

The following implies that, at least in part, Koresh attempts to attract twenty- to thirty-year-olds: “This is your friend Vernon from Waco, TX. I’m gonna be your orator in regards to sharing with you some things we feel are very important. And I wanna remind you, brothers, that the things I’m gonna show you are strictly biblical. And we’re gonna lay some points together from the Scriptures that are so dynamic and so unreal that hopefully it’ll do for you what it’s done for me and many other people in my own age category.”180 Koresh was born in 1959; he was thirty-three when he died near Passover, 1993. Though most of the converts to the group did indeed come from an Adventist background, Koresh was unsuccessful in attracting a large group. Given Swidler’s work, we should not be surprised. It is notoriously difficult to convince those whose lives are settled to abandon the cultural equipment they have acquired: “Settled cultures constrain action over time because of the high costs of cultural retool178 179 180

Koresh, Letter to Steve. Lawson, “Seventh-day,” 324. Koresh, Voice of Fire.

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ing to adopt new patterns of action.”181 Davidians demanded that proselytes leave job, family, and church in order to reside at the Waco residence and undergo “cultural retooling.” That the cost was high is hardly debatable. One aspect of proselytizing that the student of sects must attend to has to do with how the group goes about raising up the next generation in the tradition. This usual sectarian concern, however, receives short shrift in the primary materials studied. That children attended the Bible studies is clear because one hears them talking on the cassettes. That the children themselves were immersed in Bible study is indicated when, in interpreting Isa 26:12’s mention of “works” Koresh says, “Even our little children now are studying the Bible. And instead of playing silly games, they play Bible study. And you can ask them if they want a chocolate candy bar and they’ll say point blank, ‘No, that’s not good for my body.’”182 Elsewhere, when treating Isa 3:5 (“the child shall behave himself proudly against the ancient”) he ponders the habit of children not behaving properly in Sabbath school and parents pleading with the children to do so and wonders, “What happened to good ol’ fashioned whippins?”183 Apart from these comments, Koresh does not attend directly to where children fit into the sect’s future. This may be largely explained by the fact that Koresh, like the Apostle Paul before him, did not envision a lengthy future. Creating a Sense of Belonging Any group must create a sense of belonging among the members if it would be successful. As Iannoccone indicates, sects must excel at this because they particularly ask members to sacrifice much. Koresh does not shy away from this; for example, he declares, “It’s going to cost everything to know this truth.”184 Relocating to Texas means sacrificing one’s job, security, and family. He compares his group to Jesus’ group, identifying Jesus as “a bum who didn’t have a job because he quit working and went around preaching, not like the Pharisees and Sadducees who got paid every week.” Peter “put his

181 182 183 184

Swidler, Koresh, Koresh, Koresh,

“Culture,” 284. Judge. Confusion, Pt. 2. Judge.

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family on welfare and stuff. Those guys suffered, following Jesus around. So, you know, they were considered weird too, putting this Jesus Christ first instead of, you know, their family responsibilities. In those days, Christ was a troublemaker. He busted up families. He called dummies around to be preachers.”185 Clearly, this is a group which expects and finds itself in high tension with its surrounding culture.186 It does not honor traditional family bonds or society’s status standards as they relate to education and careers and the supposed “security” offered therein. One elevated member of the group, Steve, serves as an exemplar: he “wasted” his money on a seminary education, he was kicked out of his church, and, at the time of the recording was “fixin’ to be kicked out of his family.”187 Koresh helps to create a sense of belonging in multifarious ways. The use of jargon, of special language, speaking in code, contributes to group cohesion. Regardless of one’s status from a secular perspective, this group is a place where those limitations or advantages can be overcome. One may have no secular education whatsoever but may be considered quite knowledgeable and educated within the group if one can show that she has mastered necessary subjects. In a veritable enactment of the biblical observation that “the last shall be first and the first shall be last,” the Branch Davidians tend to laud the uneducated among them (Koresh included) and reserve suspicion for the educated. Indeed, more than once Koresh uses one of his prominent followers, Steve, as an example. Steve apparently received seminary training and went into debt to do so. Koresh often bemoans and ridicules that situation, both the training from what Koresh considers ignorant scholars and the idea of charging people to learn about God. As noted earlier he appeals to the idea that Jesus himself was uneducated.188

185

Koresh, Root of Jesse. For instance, he says, “Sabbath-keepers are pushed around and abused and are being mistreated” (Letter to Steve). Interpreting Nah 1:11, Koresh says: He speaks contrary to revealed truth. He tells the people what they should do to that guy who is on the mountains. He is the one that suggests that while we need to do this and that and this it would be a good example for the world to show the world what happens to people who are part of cults. Their object is they want to stop cults and sects (The Shower Head Tape). 187 Koresh, The Bird. 188 Koresh, Radio Sermon. 186

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He also implies eulogy for the uneducated when he intimates himself as an example: “Maybe some of you are educated; I am not.”189 Those who have status in the group are those who have learned the teachings of Koresh, those who presumably do not falter when, during an interpretation of Rev 10, Koresh asserts: “And Christ comes down to execute Ezekiel nine,” and moves right along without giving a single word of explanation regarding the content of Ezek 9. While the present state of the evidence does not permit a statistical analysis of Koresh’s language, the speeches and papers are marked by the frequent repetition of such special terms as “investigative message,” “judicial message,” “executive judgment,” “wave sheaf,”190 “present truth,” “inspiration,” “loud cry,” “the refreshing,” and “1844.” This is in keeping with Wuthnow’s observation that in order for a group to succeed against its competitors, it must offer something and make access to that something limited to ensure its value. Recall the example of the Ivy League degree, which remains valuable not only because it has been defined as “good” but especially because access to it has been limited. In the same way, Koresh draws boundaries for the group by presenting a unique belief system without definitively delineating beliefs or by peppering the presentation with references to esoteric, historical, philosophical, and theological sources of wisdom. In Koresh’s case he draws upon Scripture, SDA assumptions, the writings of Ellen White and former Davidian leaders, and his own revelations and visions. Concrete rewards inhere in belonging to the group. Koresh purports that others will become Christians when they see the blessings bestowed on the group, including lawn mowers that do not break down, cars that run fast, girls who are plain but beautiful, men who are strong, generosity.191 Salvation is the peculiar inheritance of the Branch Davidians: “But by his everlasting grace he saved us; we are going to enter into that rest as the Bible declared in John and in Luke.”192 Koresh uses the rhetoric of biblical language to draw lines between insiders and outsiders. Just as he elevates the group by labeling them 189

Koresh, Confusion, Pt. 1. Koresh defines “wave sheaf ” as “those who believe in the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth and have received the seventh angel’s message.” Judge. 191 Koresh, Ezekiel 47. 192 Koresh, Judge. 190

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with laudable biblical sobriquets, he denigrates those who stand outside the group. “Now we’re looking for a certain period of time which we’re not going to explain on this tape because we want to be as wise as serpents and harmless as doves and we don’t want to cast our pearls before swine. And it’s up to each individual to decide whether they’re swine or whether they’re actually the Lord’s children or not. But time will tell.”193 Notice, the full teachings (“pearls”) are reserved for those who have proven themselves to be insiders (“the Lord’s children”) rather than outsiders (“swine”). The ultimate reward belongs to the future. In interpreting Heb 3:1, speaking of Christ, Koresh says: “Yet he endured the shame of this world and he received a greater reward didn’t he? So now let’s consider whether we want to actually live a life like Christ and receive the reward, or whether we want to have our reward now.”194 He encourages perseverance regularly. In the context of interpreting Heb 4:7–10, Koresh exhorts: “So they didn’t endure the trial. In other words, many people say when they come in God’s church; well I can’t make it. I can’t overcome. I’m just gonna go back into the world. Well that shows no faith in what was spoken in the beginning doesn’t it?”195 While he certainly tries to bind the group together cohesively against the group’s opponents, Koresh always keeps a certain level of mistrust among them in order to make certain that each member remains loyal to him first. So, he informs them that looks can be deceiving, that two members can appear to be worshipping exactly the same way, but in actuality one is spiritual and one is carnal. Elsewhere, he criticizes a member of the group who is not there and this prompts another member to mention someone else whose behavior has been less than stellar. Koresh attempts to extract the name of the member from the man speaking. Koresh wants the group to cohere, but the first loyalty must remain to him.

193

Ibid. Koresh, The Seventh. 195 Ibid. His statement also reveals the mutual exclusivity of “the world” and “God’s church,” a theme that recurs often. 194

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Charting Results It is now fitting to summarize in chart form what a review of the Branch Davidian materials has yielded. The reader will find a minimum of exemplary quotes followed by a list of other relevant references cited by cassette title and counter or page number. The list is not exhaustive but refers only to examples included in this chapter. How Scripture Functions in the Branch Davidians A. BREAKING AWAY: CREATING AND DEGRADING “THEM” “movements that failed to progress” ( Jonah) B. FORMATION OF SECT 1. Etiology: celebrate origins of the community; ground community in the past “From Enoch all the way down to 1844, the judgment of the dead, all those messages are contained in Ellen G. White” ( Judge). 2. Show sect’s founder to have special insight regarding Scripture “But when Brother Houteff came in 1930, he came to seal with the Sabbath seal. . . . Those who were Adventists, who joined the Shepherd’s Rod, became true Sabbath keepers and they received the Sabbath seal” ( Judge). “In 1929, the fourth angel came according to Revelation 14:15. This message came to join the third angel’s message of the dead—Ellen G. White’s message. The message came to announce the imminent judgment of the living. This movement was called The Shepherd’s Rod. It was given the greatest amount of light we’ve had heretofore” (Ezekiel 21). 3. Defining and elevating “us” “That’s the only true Israel, those who believe in the Word” (Letter to Steve). “Brethren, upon hearing these tapes and seeing this truth as written in the Bible, you are being called to be a part of a remnant of those who uphold the Bible and the Bible only as the only rule of faith” (Letter to Steve). “wave sheaf,” “first fruits,” “modern Israel” ( Judge)

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C. CREATING A DISTINCT WAY OF LIFE 1. Ethical Behavior “There comes a time when sin is done out in the open. For instance, Davidians and Branches, and Adventists never wear shorts, those driven by the spirit of God. Neither do they eat things like meat and defiled foods, especially like depleted white sugar, white flour (etc.). These are abominations to soul temple” (Ezekiel 21). Cf. Confusion, Pt. 2; Judge; Confusion, Pt. 1; Ezekiel 47 2. Ritual practice a. Daily Bible study The Assyrians b. Levitical feasts “This last Passover, those who didn’t keep it with us, they have the mark of the beast” (Ezekiel 47). c. Sabbath observance “This is the God of Sabbath. The Sabbath, the fourth commandment of God, contains the sign and the seal that those who worship on that day worship not a god, but the living God of creation” (The Seventh Angel ). 3. Language and rhetoric “inspiration,” “revelation,” “the 144,000,” “1844,” “present truth,” “Ellen G. White, V. Houteff, B. Roden, L. Roden,” “Branch He” “Branch She,” “wave sheaf,” “antitypical,” “the special resurrection” ( Judge) 4. Use of sacred texts a. The sectarian community as Scripture’s telos “The sixth seal is our period of time. You know that. Doesn’t take a nit-wit to know those kinda things” (What is Truth). Cf. Ezekiel 21; The Assyrian b. Scripture is authoritative “Let’s see what the Bible says” ( Judge). “Being Christian, our foundation is supposed to be the Bible. . . . I’m building up to this point: we’re supposed to be Christians who are founded upon a sacred parchment known as the Bible which is a record of men who have gone before” (Voice of Fire).

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Cf. Radio Sermon; What is Truth?; Voice of Fire; Ezekiel 21; The Seventh Angel; Letter to Steve and the Wisconsin Brethren 5. Roles of authoritative leaders a. Former leaders: William Miller, Ellen G. White, Victor Houteff [F. Houteff is not mentioned], Ben Roden, Lois Roden “In other words, we want to know who the Lord’s feet are according to Zech 14. So therefore, if Uzziah represents Victor Houteff then Jotham must represent Brother Roden and Ahaz Sister Roden and then Hezekiah must also represent the seventh angel’s message. In other words we’re taking from Brother Roden’s writings and showing that Victor Houteff was Uzziah, then Jotham would be Brother Roden. Sister Roden would be Ahaz and Vernon Howell, the seventh angel’s message, would be Hezekiah” ( Judge). “We see these four angels as Sister White, Brother Houteff, Brother Roden, and Sister Roden” (The Seventh Angel ). “And the only plan of salvation there is is contained in the everlasting gospel presented by William Miller. . . . You’ll also find that same gospel continued on by Ellen G. White, picked up again by Brother Houteff, also found through Brother Roden’s message. Sister Roden’s. And there is a seventh angel too” (Ezekiel 21). b. David Koresh 1. The leader is righteous, chosen by God or otherwise admirable “You may not, by asking God, understand the mysteries of God. God will do nothing but reveal his secret to his servants the prophets. Should you, should you receive an enlightened message from God then you’ll be sittin’ here and I’ll be sittin’ out there” (Confusion, Pt. 1). 2. Unjustly persecuted The Assyrians 3. Privy to special insight “But by the mercy of God, God allowed me to have such a wonderful vision and a wonderful understanding of the seventh angel’s message” ( Judge). 4. Warrants fidelity and belief; salvation depends on one’s stance vis-à-vis him “You reject Cyrus, you reject God” (Ancient of Days).

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“How do you depart from the living God, Branches? Well you depart from the living voice, don’t you? The living mouthpiece, right? No Prophet—no truth. That’s the rule” (The Seventh Angel). Cf. The Assyrians; A Letter to Australia; Judge; The Bird; The Seventh Angel; Ezekiel 47 6. Definition of the future The Assyrians; Letter to Steve and the Wisconsin Brethren; Judge D. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM THE PARENT TRADITION 1. Named opponents “The Adventists didn’t regard [Ben Roden]” (Ezekiel 21). 2. Those who break Scripture “The Adventist church is a rejected church. They are not God’s people. They have not been for years. You see? That’s why they had no commission in the world. They haven’t ever preached the Sabbath as it is to be preached. They don’t keep it as it is to be kept. They know nothing of it cause they have no spirit of prophecy” (The Shower Head Tape). E. OPPOSITION FROM WITHIN THE SECT: DEALING WITH DEFECTION 1. Reward adherence to the sect “lawn mowers that don’t break down, cars that run fast, girls who are plain but beautiful, men who are strong, not stingy” (Ezekiel 47) 2. Castigate potential and actual deserters The Assyrians; The Seventh Angel; Ezekiel 47; The Foundation; Judge F. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM WITHOUT 1. The (non-Adventist) church “And yet you know as well as I do that they’re no different than the world is. The world and the church go hand in hand today” (Voice of Fire). Cf. The Assyrians; Letter to Australia; Ezekiel 21; Radio Sermon 2. The world The Ammonites of Ezek 21:28 are “people of the world” (Ezekiel 21). “And these messages hold, or keep the persecution of the world away from the church” ( Judge).

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3. The government “the beast represents the earthly governments” ( Judge). 4. Scholars The Assyrians; Radio Sermon G. JUDGMENT AGAINST OPPONENTS 1. Against parent tradition “Now we know that Idumea represents the fleshly Jews and also the modern SDA and Davidian groups who have not progressed with present truth . . . And verse fourteen of Ezekiel 35 tells us that when all the earth shall rejoice, the Lord’s going to execute his judgments upon the Adventist people and upon, well, Zechariah 14 is going to be fulfilled also at that time” ( Judge). 2. Against sect-defectors “But if they would not accept that truth then the truth in the end would judge them because they would try to establish their own righteousness and they would lose out, the same as many Branches have done these days” ( Judge). 3. Against the world “Fools!! Get wise, wisdom says!! Get wise!! The man on the white horse comes first!! That’s Psalms 1, that’s Psalms 2, that’s Psalms 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!! Learn ’em!! That’s what God says is going to happen!! Do you hear?! Do you understand!! It’s war!!! These governments of this world are coming to an end (The Foundation).” H. GROWING THE SECT 1. Proselytizing “Brethren, upon hearing these tapes and seeing this truth as written in the Bible, you are being called to be a part of a remnant of those who uphold the Bible and the Bible only as the only rule of faith” (Letter to Steve). “I am trying to proselate [sic]” (The Bird ). Cf. What is Truth? Voice of Fire; Radio Sermon 2. The next generation

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The Branch Davidians under David Koresh manifest typical sect characteristics and concerns and almost without exception use Scripture to achieve certain ends necessary for the sect to succeed. Comparing the primary evidence with Bainbridge’s chart of factors that either increase or decrease tension between the sect and its surrounding sociocultural environments, I surmise that the group experienced high tension. The group never grew out of minority status and never developed a bureaucratic leadership, both factors which would have reduced tension; rather, it emphasized specific compensators for the apparent lack of worldly success (e.g., being part of the elect who would receive salvation on judgment day). Koresh was one in a line of charismatic leaders who sought to heighten rather than reduce tension. Scripture anchored the group at a high level of tension, especially because the apocalyptic books of Revelation and Daniel stood at the center of the group’s attention. Though the sect included members who had been raised as Davidians, converts constituted the majority of the group. The raising up of a new generation of members born into the group is usually considered a factor that decreases tension, whereas attending primarily to the needs of converts increases it. Raising a new generation did not emerge as a fundamental concern of the group; this may be explained by the apocalyptic worldview of the sect. Apocalyptic groups expect an imminent eschaton and therefore focus their attention on conversion rather than on establishing long-range plans involving the next generation. The external evidence bears out the correctness of my hypothesis that the Davidians remained in high tension with their surrounding sociocultural environment. First, their government considered them deviant enough to warrant an almost unprecedented attack with weapons usually reserved for war, namely, tanks and CS gas. Second, the official response of their parent tradition, Seventh-Day Adventism, was to distance itself from the sect.196 In order to do so, they hired 196 Scholars agree that Seventh-Day Adventism has sought to reduce its tension with the surrounding society and has largely succeeded. As recently as 1992 the North American Division of Seventh-Day Adventists claimed: Adventists have often been thought of as a sect or cult. . . . But Adventists have always looked upon themselves as being in solidarity with historic Christianity. . . . Seventh-Day Adventists hold to the central core truths of Christian faith. . . . [They] meet all the criteria of an authentic church. The idea of cult or sect does not apply. Lawson, “Seventh-Day,” 327.

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professional consultants who presented a crisis management plan to the General Conference of Seventh-Day Adventists, which stated the following goals: “To successfully distinguish the Davidian Cult from the Seventh-Day Adventist Church, ensuring public support for Seventh-Day Adventism as a mainstream religion, providing spiritual guidance, disaster relief, education and health care services to millions of people worldwide.”197 In addition, the local Adventist pastor in Waco spearheaded a Waco-wide and an Adventist-wide special offering to donate to the families of the officers killed in the attempt at a “dynamic entry”; no attention was paid to the families of the deceased Branch Davidians. Recognizing that both the SDA parent tradition and the United States government of 1993 were opposed to the sect helps to explain its defeat. Recall Swidler’s insistence that in order to understand why one ideology prevails over another one must attend to “the structural constraints and historical circumstances within which ideological movements struggle for dominance.”198 In the cases of the Branch Davidians and Qumran, it is the conflict with the government, not the parent tradition, that was fatal. Interestingly, both communities expected persecution from the godless government, as attested in their written and oral texts. The Fourth Gospel, on the other hand, shows little concern with the government as a persecuting force, and there is no evidence that the community was destroyed by the government. In fact, the existence of the Johannine Epistles indicates that the community perdured. For the Qumranians, the structural constraints and historical circumstances that most impacted their community were being a Jewish group during the Roman campaign of 66–72 .. against Palestine, which resulted in the destruction of the Second Temple. For the Davidians, the constraints and circumstances may be described in terms of a confluence of conservative groups whose aim is to eradicate groups they have identified as “cults,” United States government internal politics especially regarding the BATF and FBI, the secular nature of both the government and the media that disallowed an understanding of the group, the

For a review of the relevant arguments, see Lawson, “Seventh-Day” and Bainbridge, Sociology, 89–118. See also Laura Vance, Seventh-Day Adventism in Crisis: Gender and Sectarian Change in an Emerging Religion (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1999). 197 Lawson, “Seventh-Day,” 329. 198 Swidler, “Culture,” 280.

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rejection by the official body of Seventh-Day Adventists, and numerous other factors. Not only must one ask “how concrete structural circumstances affect the relative success of competing cultural systems,”199 as I have just done, but one must also ask “how the capacity of particular ideas, rituals, and symbols to organize given kinds of action affects the historical opportunities actors are able to seize.”200 To address the latter would involve two tasks: first, to ask what factors led those who lived at Mt. Carmel to come there in the first place. Some Adventist publications tried to address that question in the aftermath of the destruction, citing various strains in Adventist theology as primary factors. Sociologists of sectarianism usually explain the attraction in terms of social status and arrive at the conclusion that most sectarians have little to lose and much to gain by joining a sect. Converts tend to be poor, uneducated, and have a minority status in terms of gender or race. Of the eighty members living there, some were English, some were American, some were Caribbean, and some were Australian. Some of the older members had come as children with their parents when the Rodens were the leaders and had, in turn, raised their own children in the group. Many of the residents were children who had come with their parents under Koresh, and no small number were children born of various women but sharing Koresh as father. It is not difficult to discern why they stayed. Like the earliest founders of Adventism, not to mention most of the  authors, the Davidians believed in the imminent Parousia. Having studied and believed Revelation, they expected to be persecuted by both apostate churches and, most especially, by Babylon, that is, the government. The attack by the government only validated their interpretation of Scripture and put them in the position to make one of two choices: to obey God or human beings. As Philip Arnold argues in his article, “The Davidian Dilemma: To Obey God or Man?”201 the choice was clear for them. As most scholars have noted, given their cultural toolkit, the one way they could have both obeyed God

199

Ibid. Ibid. 201 Philip Arnold, “The Davidian Dilemma: To Obey God or Man?” in From the Ashes: Making Sense of Waco (ed. James R. Lewis; Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1994), 23–32. 200

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and survived would have been to understand Scripture in a different way. Both Tabor and Arnold argued with Koresh via cassette (because the government would not allow them to speak directly to him) that, in fact, there was another way to interpret a specific passage of Revelation that would require Koresh to live and spread his message. Koresh was in the process of doing just that when the government decided to attack anyway. Both groups, the government agencies and the Davidians, operated from extremely rigid and all-encompassing cultures, which made the disaster likely.202 It may be easily argued that the Davidians understood the government much better than the government understood the Davidians. In this competition between the two cultural systems, the strategies of actions available and chosen resulted in the demise of Mt. Carmel. The high-tension Davidians maintained the high ideology already characterized by Swidler. When a group is struggling to establish itself and is vying for dominance, one should expect explicit and rigorous demands concerning belief and behavior. This ideology will conflict with the traditions and common sense assumed in the surrounding culture as the group attempts to establish new strategies of action. Koresh doggedly exhorted, instructed, corrected, and shaped the beliefs and actions of those residing at Mt. Carmel, all the while

202 In her article, “Waco,” Ammerman argues cogently and compellingly that the culture of law enforcement either caused or largely contributed to the debacle. She details the various strains that conjoined to create the mentality and actions of the agencies, not only the “culture of disbelief,” which had the most impact on decisions, but also the attitudes of those whose own religious beliefs contributed to their animosity toward the Davidians. She describes (284–92) the law enforcement stance: During our first round of briefings, especially in our conversations with the hostage negotiators who had been involved in Waco, the most striking finding was the FBI’s near total dismissal of the religious beliefs of the Branch Davidians. . . . They saw no reason to try to understand his religious beliefs, indeed thought them so bizarre as to be incomprehensible by normal people. The negotiators expressed deep regret at this state of affairs, but could see no alternatives to the way they had come to understand the situation. The tactical commanders had no real regret, seeing the final outcome as unavoidable. . . . The tendency to discount the influence of religious beliefs and to evaluate situations largely in terms of a leader’s individual criminal or psychological motives is, I believe, very widespread in the FBI. In our initial briefings with negotiators and tacticians, the consensus around the table was that when they encountered people with religious beliefs, those beliefs were usually a convenient cover for criminal activity. They continued to refer to the members of the group as hostages, failing to recognize the free choice those people had made in following Koresh.

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knowing and admitting the conflict with the traditions of the surrounding culture: “What we’re trying to do is we’re trying to bust up your foundation like this concrete out here.”203 With Swidler, I contend that “strategies of action are cultural products; the symbolic experiences, mythic lore, and ritual practices of a group or society create moods and motivations, ways of organizing experience and evaluating reality, modes of regulating conduct, and ways of forming social bonds, which provide resources for constructing strategies of action.”204 For the Davidians, the single most significant “chunk of culture” used to create culture is Scripture. Earlier in the chapter I noted that the Davidians indeed had two of the three features necessary to enjoy significance, that is, providing ethical instruction for members and their children and encouraging worship. I now add the third: drawing individuals into an intimate community. Clearly, Koresh succeeded in his use of Scripture to effect an allencompassing worldview out of which his followers acted.

203 204

Koresh, The Assyrians. Swidler, “Culture,” 284.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE COMMUNITY OF THE FOURTH GOSPEL

In every family worthy of the name, there are especial stories that so early amuse, then later so tickle and tantalize memory that the phrase which recalls one of them becomes a shibboleth in the family. These are in-jokes, the use of which can leave an outsider so puzzled and bewildered in the presence of collective hilarity that explanations are in order, albeit convolutedly forthcoming. Ferrol Sams, “Harmony Ain’t Easy”

Most of the details regarding the social situation of the Fourth Gospel continue to elude scholars. We do not know with any certainty who wrote the Fourth Gospel, where it was written, or when it assumed its final form. It is reasonable to posit a late first-century date for the final redaction. Irenaeus ascribes authorship to the beloved disciple of John 13:23 whom he identifies as John, one of the twelve disciples. Others have nominated Lazarus, John Mark, or other “Johns.” Irenaeus names Ephesus as the Gospel’s provenance, though Alexandria and Antioch have also been suggested.1 This chapter will primarily attend to an analysis of the passages in which scriptural quotations are central to discover how they may or may not contribute to the repertory of things that sects need to do in order to establish and sustain themselves. Because there is no direct evidence of how the scriptural echoes functioned for the Johannine community, I will rely on educated imagination, the Johannine Epistles, and the evidence studied from the two groups about whom I do have more concrete evidence, namely, the Qumranians and the Davidians. Two cautionary notes on methodology are in order. First, in relying upon the proposed theoretical framework posited in chapter two as well as its application in chapters three and four, I do not

1 For a synopsis of the various positions, see Raymond Brown, The Gospel According to John, I–XII (AB; New York: Doubleday, 1966), LXXX–CIV.

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intend to force the evidence from the Johannine material into a mold created from the analysis of Qumran and the Branch Davidians; rather, I use the previous investigations to understand how or if a given instance of scriptural quotation, along with its context, might contribute to the Johannine community’s success, given my understanding of what it must achieve to succeed. Second, the Fourth Gospel is written in narrative form2 and tells the story of the sojourn on earth of the Word made flesh. After the hymnic Prologue, the narrative commences with the appearance of John the Baptist and relates a three-year ministry on the part of Jesus of Nazareth climaxing with his crucifixion and resurrection. Unlike the materials studied for the Branch Davidians and the Qumranians, the genre of the Johannine material is narrative. So, in addition to the issue addressed in chapter two, how Scripture functions in the formative discourse of a sect, a further methodological question must be asked: how does a narrative function in a sect when the narrative incorporates scriptural interpretation? This can be broken down into two subtopics: (1) roles of narrative in the life of a sect and (2) roles of Scripture and its interpretation when embedded in or implied by narrative.

Roles of Narrative in the Life of a Sect No one has undertaken systematic inquiry regarding either of the two questions, both of which deserve a full-scale study. In treating the first, roles of narrative in the life of a sect, it would make sense to collect narratives belonging to various sects (sects preferably representing a broad temporal and geographical spectrum) and study their function within the groups. The present study, of course, has the use of Scripture, not the use of narrative, at its center, and, as a result the materials chosen from the Branch Davidian and Qumran cultures highlight Scripture, not narrative. Absent a theory regarding the roles of narrative in the life of a sect, I will take my lead from work done in the sociology of religion and from adumbrative efforts on the part of both Meeks and Martyn.

2 For an analysis of the Fourth Gospel as a narrative, replete with plot and characters, see Culpepper, Anatomy.

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Three decades ago, Wayne Meeks sought to understand the social function that myth may have had for the Johannine community. In “developing [his] own method” he drew upon the work of V. Turner, J. Z. Smith, and W. D. O’ Flaherty. He writes: I shall argue that one function of the “symbolic universe” communicated in this remarkable body of literature was to make sense of all these aspects of the group’s history. More precisely, there must have been a continuing dialectic between the group’s historical experience and the symbolic world which served both to explain that experience and to motivate and form the reaction of group members to the experience. In the following pages an attempt is made to discern the function which the motif “ascent and descent” serves, first, within the literary structure of the Fourth Gospel, then, by analogy, within the structure of the Johannine community and its relationships to its environment.3

Similarly, I contend that the narrative form of the Fourth Gospel serves to equip the Johannine Christians with a symbolic universe that helps them to make sense of their historical experience, “to explain that experience and to motivate and form the reaction of group members to the experience.” Just as Meeks moves by analogy from the literary level of the text to the social level, so do I. The same method is employed by J. Louis Martyn. Like Meeks, Martyn argues that the Fourth Gospel reflects the lived experience of the Johannine community. Noting that the Fourth Gospel did not “drop from heaven straight into our time,” Martyn seeks to flesh out the historical community signified by the Fourth Gospel: Our first task, however, is to say something as specific as possible about the actual circumstances in which John wrote his Gospel. How are we to picture daily life in John’s church? Have elements of its peculiar daily experiences left their stamp on the Gospel penned by one of its members? May one sense even in its exalted cadences the voice of a Christian theologian who writes in response to contemporary events and issues which concern, or should concern, all members of the Christian community in which he lives? If we should encounter data in the Gospel which indicate an affirmative answer to these questions—and we shall do so very shortly—it becomes imperative that we make every effort to take up temporary residence in the Johannine community. We must see with the eyes and hear with the ears of that community. We must sense at least some of the crises that helped to shape the lives of its members. And we must

3

Meeks, “Man from Heaven,” 49–50.

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  listen carefully to the kind of conversations in which all of its members found themselves engaged.4

Throughout his analysis of the Fourth Gospel, Martyn argues by analogy. He describes the Fourth Gospel as a two-level drama, designating the first the einmalig, or the “once upon a time” level as opposed to the “here and now” level, which comprises the second level.5 About this methodological approach he insists: “We cannot be satisfied, however, merely to speak of the evangelist’s art. We must ask whether in his composition it is possible to detect specific reflections of some definite situation in the life of his church. To this end we may find it illuminating to formulate our questions as we transpose the narrative into a more developed dramatic form.”6 Like Martyn, I assume that the Fourth Gospel is a narrative that purports to relate events that occurred ca. 30 .., not a dispassionate church history that overtly recounts late first century events. This means that in every case I will have to ask whether the implied use in the Gospel’s own rhetorical situation approximates the narrated use in Jesus’ situation. Recall Robert Wuthnow’s observation about narrative as a powerful tool in the life of a religious community: [Narrative’s] fundamental characteristic is the unfolding of events according to a temporal sequence. Narrative is thus especially well suited for connecting moral prescriptions with tradition. Narrative also tends to be self contained; it employs a high degree of intratextuality or selfreferencing. As such it is not easily disconfirmed by outside events or alternative stories. Understanding the narrative requires the listener to enter into its own internal logic. Narrative also invites this sort of identification between the listener and characters in the story. Whether there is true intersubjectivity between the subject and the text or not, the text suggests there is.7

My approach will approximate Wuthnow’s “dramaturgic approach” as presented in chapter two where he claims that “what is given off” may be as important as what is “given.”8

4 5 6 7 8

Martyn, History, 18. Ibid., 29–30, especially p. 29 n. 22. Ibid., 27. Wuthnow, Producing, 164. Wuthnow, Meaning, 13–14.

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So, Meeks, Martyn, and Wuthnow all attest to the social function served by narrative. Narrative helps the auditors make sense out of their lived experiences. It both draws one into a particular symbolic universe and then insists that one has to be a part of the special group in order to fully understand and use the language of that universe meaningfully. In this way, it creates boundaries for the group between insider and outsider.

Roles of Scripture Embedded in a Narrative The second issue, roles of Scripture and its interpretation when embedded in or implied by narrative, has also been neglected. We might expect a literary-critical monograph such as Alan Culpepper’s Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design, which patently deals with the Fourth Gospel as narrative, to account for the frequent presence of Scripture, the intertextuality of the narrative. It does not. Martyn has demonstrated how we might move from narrative to social history and he insists upon the importance of tradition for the Fourth Gospel, but he does not treat “Scripture” under the rubric of tradition. In fact, he does not mention the use of Scripture. Still, the presentation of his own method holds promise for mine. In response to his own question, “How shall we sharpen our senses so as to perceive elements in the Gospel which are clues to the circumstances in which it was written?” he responds: “A word about the role of tradition in early Christian thought may help us find such an approach.” Martyn claims: The early church shared with many groups of its time a concern for tradition which exceeds by far that known to most of us. The past— specific events and teachings of the past—lived on with power and somehow mingled with events of the present. To the ancients it was far more obvious than it is to us that one’s response to contemporary issues involves careful consideration of the tradition inherited from one’s forebears. Indeed it was responsible contemporary involvement which most often sharpened the sense of need for tradition and which is therefore mainly to be thanked for preserving the voice of the past. Of course not everyone in the early church viewed alike the relationship between a concern for tradition and effective involvement in contemporary issues. One of the most pressing needs in New Testament study may be a careful analysis of the various ways which the New Testament authors viewed this relationship. No one will want to insist,

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  I think, that the problem of connecting past traditions with current concerns is viewed in precisely the same way by, say, Paul and Matthew. Yet each has wrestled long and honestly and effectively with just this problem, and a priori there is no reason to doubt that each may have a much-needed word for us as we face the same problem.9

Though his appraisal of the situation was and remains accurate, Martyn himself never takes up in detail the relationship between Scripture (though it clearly stands as part of John’s tradition) and effective involvement in contemporary issues. Martyn finds in the Fourth Gospel more than narrative; he finds drama, and it is drama which seeks to encounter the auditor as more than art, as theology. I suggest that the Fourth Gospel is also a sermon, religious discourse composed for the benefit of an audience. I am interested then, in the influence and interplay of Scripture and interpreter for the sake of this community. How does Scripture work for communities who have it? What effect does its use have upon individuals and communities? What are the overt reasons for calling upon Scripture? What are the covert reasons? Power? Identity formation? The structuring of a symbolic world and a worldview? An attempt to motivate conformity or deviance or both? To date, it is those sociologists who have begun to ask about how narrative and Scripture work within sermons whose work has been the most suggestive for answering the second issue. Susan Harding, a sociologist of religion, has attended to the complex nexus of factors that may affect the efficacy of the deployment of Scripture by a narrative preacher. In her work, “The Gospel of Giving: The Narrative Construction of a Sacrificial Economy,”10 she analyzes Jerry Falwell’s use of Scripture and narrative to achieve certain fund-raising goals for his ministry. She specifically focuses on a sermon that Falwell delivered at Liberty Baptist College’s first chapel service in fall 1978. In it, Falwell asks God to supply five million dollars for the school by September 24, 1978, which Falwell designated “Miracle Day.” After exclaiming the need, Falwell went on to preach a sermon from Joshua. Harding quotes from an authorized biography:

9

Martyn, History, 18–19. Susan Harding, “The Gospel of Giving: The Narrative Construction of a Sacrificial Economy,” in Vocabularies of Public Life: Empirical Essays in Symbolic Structure (ed. Robert Wuthnow; London: Routledge, 1992), 39–56. 10

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He described the people of Israel and their situation as they faced the high strong walls of Jericho. The Thomas Road Baptist Church was facing similar obstacles. “The Jews had come through four hundred years of bondage. God delivered them from the Red Sea by the hand of Moses, and after forty years of wandering in the wilderness, delivered them from the river Jordan by the hand of Joshua. They had come far by faith, but now, having arrived in the Promised Land, they found the walls of Jericho immovable. The inhabitants of Jericho had been reported to Joshua to be ‘giants.’ Everything seemed lost to the children of God. Defeat seemed imminent.” Jerry drew a parallel: “Liberty Mountain is our Promised Land. For many years we have prayed for this thirty-five hundred acres of sanctified property. After twenty-two years of miracles, we have arrived on Liberty Mountain. But now we find ourselves looking up at the high walls of bills and unfinished buildings. A miracle is needed.” The students listened attentively as their chancellor told how Joshua met the unseen Captain. The Lord assured Joshua of victory and gave him the plan for it. The Jews were told to march around the walls once a day for six days. Then, on the seventh day, they were to march around seven times. The men of war were to march up front. The seven priests with trumpets of rams’ horns were to march directly behind them each day, sounding the trumpets all the way. The ark of the covenant would be carried in their midst. The congregation was to follow the ark. Drawing an analogy between men of war and prayer warriors, Jerry called for thousands of local prayer warriors to “walk point,” symbolic of those who go first into battle. He asked millions who were watching by television to do the same. He assured the prayer warriors that, as they circled the walls of impossibility, the preachers at Thomas Road would keep preaching and sounding forth the message of the gospel. He asked Christians of North America to join with him on this trek of faith and pray with them for a miracle. On each of the six days preceding the September 24 ‘Miracle Day,’ Jerry drove along the circumference road of Liberty Mountain, an 11.3 mile trip. He began at the main entrance of the college and prayed continually as he drove. On Sunday, September 24, Jerry rose early and encircled the mountain seven times—79.1 miles—before the early church service at Thomas Road. The offering that day and from the previous six weeks totaled more than $7 million. $2 million more than what had been prayed for. People stood and wept and praised God who loves to answer the prayers of his people.11

11 Gerald Strober and Ruth Tomczak, Jerry Falwell: Aflame for God (Nashville: Nelson, 1979), 79–81; quoted in Harding, “The Gospel,” 40–41.

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A number of Harding’s observations about how Falwell’s sermons “worked” are suggestive for my project. First, neither the biographers nor perhaps Falwell himself completed the story of the walls of Jericho in their narrations; they did not have to; their audiences knew the rest of the scriptural story from previous experience with Scripture. Likewise, when reading the Fourth Gospel, we should remember that most, if not all, of the Johannine sectarians were familiar with Scripture. Second, Harding notes: “From the beginning, Falwell interlaced Joshua’s tale with a second, contemporary, story that reiterated with exquisite precision and updated details the same tests of faith and imagination evoked by the first.”12 The author of the Fourth Gospel has done as much and even more. He has not only interlaced Scripture with the story of Jesus and his first disciples, but has also interlaced all of that with his own community’s story. To explain Falwell’s interlacing of the old and the contemporary to a largely secular discipline of sociology, she writes: Both these stories are entirely true. Indeed, they are not simply “true stories,” they are “storied events.” Event and story in fundamentalist discourse have not been torn asunder. Biblical narrators, past and present, are literally historians. They tell histories, the way things actually happened. Their stories do not represent history, they are history. Likewise, the connections that appointed narrators propose between one story, such as Joshua’s, and another, such as Jerry’s, are not mere filaments of interpretation tying tales together in some folk Imaginary. They are historical tissues, sinews of divine purpose, design, and will that join concrete events across millennia.13

In presenting the case thus, Harding virtually echoes Martyn’s own understanding of the connection between tradition and contemporary issues felt by early Christians: “The past—specific events and teachings of the past—lived on with power and somehow mingled with events of the present.”14 Harding’s work is also useful in reminding the student of the Fourth Gospel that various factors impinged upon the original audience’s hearing of the text. The original auditors did not hear the text in a vacuum any more than modern auditors do. Regarding Falwell’s appeal, she maintains that the auditors

12 13 14

Ibid., 43. Ibid. Martyn, History, 18.

     

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filtered his appeal through an endless mesh of traces and presuppositions: other tellings of Joshua’s tale, including the biblical text, and a variety of commentaries on the story; a set of side texts and contexts— other stories and storied situations in Falwell’s discursive church which framed and infilled his appeal that sunny afternoon; and a characteristically fundamentalist Baptist set of preconceptions about how juxtaposed stories, their characters, and their outcomes are related as divinely designed events.15

Typology serves as one way that juxtaposed ancient and contemporary stories work for both Falwell’s, Koresh’s, and the  authors’ audiences, including the Fourth Gospel’s.16 We might ask two questions of the author of the Fourth Gospel: Why narrative? and Why Scripture? We might argue that the author could just as easily state her propositions and consider her task completed. But, as Wuthnow reminds us, narrative functions particularly well for achieving certain ends. Likewise, to ask the author of the Fourth Gospel to simply “make his point” without clothing it in biblical language and symbolism would reveal the outsider position of the inquirer. Harding’s argument regarding the Falwell fund-raising campaign speaks to the student of the Fourth Gospel: All this translates into money rather elegantly and, under the influence of a master preacher such as Falwell, amply. The pitch, no matter how it is dressed up biblically, sounds to the unborn-again ear like mere fund-raising (“Send us money so we can build a college”). But the biblical attire is everything to the faithful. An appeal for sacrificial giving catches them up in a sacred enactment of core gospel meanings. Just as Joshua obeyed God and was, necessarily, blessed, so was Jerry, and so will they be. They too will complete Joshua’s story, not only through prayer but through sacrificial giving.17

All of the sects under study here demand great sacrifice from their members, even unto death. The sectarians view themselves in continuity with biblical characters and injunctions, and they are taught 15

Harding, “The Gospel,” 44. Among others, Harding explores mountain typology over the course of a few years in Falwell’s fund-raising efforts, from Ararat to Sinai, to Moses’ viewing the Promised Land from a mountain, to Jesus’ ascension, etc. When Falwell later “fashioned himself as Joshua on the verge of the Promised Land, the scene was already heavily saturated with mountainous biblical innuendos. Jerry was not only Joshua, but a touch (at least) of Noah, Abraham, Moses, Elijah, Haggai, and Christ himself. His gathered church resembled their gatherings, their peoples. His and his church’s trials, persecutions, sacrifices, and triumphs fulfilled theirs.” Ibid., 47. 17 Ibid., 51. 16

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that struggle and sacrifice are both inevitable and heavily rewarded with blessings of various sorts. All of this is to say that, far from being a mere shell that can be discarded once the pearl inside has been retrieved, the narrative and scriptural form of the materials studied are themselves part of the pearl. Recall Steven Fraade’s words: Cultural history requires us to take seriously the forms by which a culture transmits its knowledge, and thereby shapes its members’ competencies and self-conceptions. As Roger Chartier asks: “How are we to understand the ways in which the form that transmits a text to its readers or hearers constrains the production of its meaning? The appropriation of discourse is not something that happens without rules or limits. Writing deploys strategies that are meant to produce effects, dictate a posture, and oblige the reader. . . . If we want to understand the appropriations and interpretations of a text in their full historicity, we need to identify the effects in terms of meaning that its material forms produced.”18

The work of Marsha Witten as presented earlier contributes to the present discussion. From the outset she identifies herself as an intellectual descendant of Robert Wuthnow. As such, she contends: Sociologists of religion are criticizing meaning-centered approaches to culture (for example, symbolic analysis (Bellah 1970; Berger 1969) and thick description (Geertz 1973)) as overly subjective and are calling for more systematic methods for analyzing religious practices, doctrines and discourse (see, for example, Wuthnow 1987) [Meaning and Moral Order]. Instead of attempting to pin down the meaning of worship practices, or of religious talk, for participants—a nearly impossible task because meaning can vary so widely among people, depending on their situations, prior experiences, competence in the communicative code, and so forth—the analyst is urged to discover the conditions that make behaviors meaningful. This can be done by exploring the context and form of the practices and discourse. On the broad environmental level, the conditions of meaningfulness may be sought by examining, for example, the institutional contexts within which people act; on the microscopic level, by studying the internal structure or the practice of discourse itself (Wuthnow 1987).19

To demonstrate this approach, Witten seeks to illustrate how such an examination of the internal formal properties of a text may be a useful tool in the study of religious discourse, by the in-depth analysis of the narratives used in a fundamentalist Christian sermon. My concern here is not with what the sermon means, but 18 19

Fraade, “Looking,” 75. Witten, “Restriction,” 19.

     

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with the way in which the structure of the information it presents makes its messages meaningful, delimiting and disambiguating the messages it communicates. In other words, I explore how the text exploits what Northrop Frye (1982) would term its “centripetal tendency”: structures of information that turn in on themselves, close meaning down, license or authorize a particular set of messages, discourage plural readings. To do so, I examine features in and among the narratives in the text that create a tight structural coherence, a relatively “airless” textual space, that present the sermon as a hermetic entity, a self-reinforcing utterance. Although this paper is devoted to the analysis of one sermon in depth, the method I display here would seem to offer much promise for the systematic, comparative study of the degree of disambiguation in religious texts in general.20

Lest suspicions arise concerning Witten’s usefulness for the present project because the Fourth Gospel is not a fundamentalist sermon, it is worth highlighting Witten’s statement that the approach should apply to other religious texts as well.21 Recall Witten’s focus on three mechanisms which, through narrative, serve to delimit and disambiguate the sermon’s messages and restrict its meaning: compactness, coherence, and redundancy of communicative structures. Individual stories within the sermon give discourse “the possibility of radical compactness while at the same time maintaining a high degree of coherence.”22 The Seneca story serves as an example of that compactness. The second element, coherence, Witten describes as the “extent to which elements in the text ‘stick together,’ rely on one another for their meaning, create an ‘airless’ textual structure.”23 Stories are especially suited to coherence because they do not require reference to or evidence drawn from the world outside the story. Witten uses a mathematical formula to measure coherence in terms of both lexical and grammatical connections. The process need not detain us here; it is enough to note that a text that shows a high degree of lexical and grammatical connectedness limits the possible meanings. Redundancy restricts meaning: Insofar as a text is redundant, it places limits on the amount of total information it communicates, thus heightening its interpretive predictability; redundancy constitutes a “surplus of communication” regarding 20

Ibid., 20. In fact, Witten herself intends to apply the method to conservative and liberal sermons as well. Ibid., 33 n. 2. 22 Ibid., 22. 23 Ibid., 24. 21

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the same information, augmenting the probability that its message will be transmitted unambiguously (Suleiman 1983: 55).24

Drawing upon the work of Susan Suleiman, Witten lists the following as possible redundancies among narratives: 1. Several characters have the same qualities (or a single character displays the same qualities throughout the story). In the particular sermon analyzed by Witten, the stories typically contained characters who were “lost” (e.g., Seneca) and, conversely, characters who were “settled.” In all stories where a minister appeared, the minister played the role of “settled” person, the person with the correct answers to the meaning of life. 2. Goals of several characters’ actions are the same (or a single character displays the same goals throughout the story). In the second quarter of the sermon, for example, each story portrays a single character or group who desires some resource that may hold the answer to life. 3. Actions of several characters are the same (or a single character displays the same actions throughout). Each of the “lost” characters mentioned above relies on worldly structures of action (such as questing for knowledge, conducting scientific experiments). 4. Means of actions of several characters are the same. 5. Outcomes of several characters’ actions are the same. All of those characters fail. 6. The context is metonymically redundant with the character. This category is not applicable to the sermon Witten analyzes because no context is given. 7. Several characters pronounce the same interpretive commentary (or a single character repeatedly does so). 8. An event is redundant with the interpretive commentary made by a character concerning it. 24

Ibid., 25.

     

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As an example of (1), in many of the sermon’s thirteen different narratives, the preacher presents two characters, one in the position of being “lost” and the other in an admirably settled state who attempts to lead the “lost” person to truth. Not only are the characters’ qualities the same, but so are their actions: the lost person asks and listens, the found person answers. The outcomes are the same: those questing for knowledge outside the purview of Christianity fail. This is what Witten means by redundancy on the level of individual stories. Witten examines redundancy not simply at the story level or level of narrative discourse, but also “structural parallels between the story content and the narrator’s interpretive commentary.”25 Witten proposes that narrative or interpretive commentary can take three forms. First, narrative commentary can create tension between itself and the story’s message (by denying its plausibility, by using irony, by expressing caveats about its “truth”). Second, it can remain neutral by simply reporting the story. Finally, it can affirm the story’s content. In the sermon analyzed, the commentary was always redundant with the story’s result. So if the story implied a failure, as did the first twelve, the preacher affirmed that, indeed, failure had occurred. The thirteenth story, the only “positive” story in the sermon, narrates the preacher’s discovering the answer to the meaning of life on a highway billboard that declares: “Jesus is the answer.” The narrator, who in this case is the preacher, immediately affirms that, indeed, “Jesus is the answer.” Thus, the preacher’s conviction that “ ‘Jesus is the answer’ has been confirmed on the three levels of narrative communication—that of the level of the story, the level of the narrative discourse, and the level of the relationship between the two—as the single, ‘correct,’ authorized answer to the problems of life.”26 The goal of redundant communication is thus to reduce interpretive ‘space’—the possibility of gaps appearing in the text that might enable a plural reading.27 This feature is especially of interest to the student of the Fourth Gospel as the narrator intrudes upon

25

Ibid., 29. Though operating at the level of a single sermon, Witten hopes that her essay will lead to further study: “In isolating these features and demonstrating how they may work, this paper suggests several directions for future research in religious discourse. First, it makes it possible to conduct systematic comparisons of the degree of meaning-restriction in sermons or other authoritative religious utterances, and the types of discursive devices used to close down meaning.” (Ibid., 30; my italics) 27 Ibid., 25. 26

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the narrative, especially when Scripture is deployed.28 I will employ Witten’s work when analyzing the narratives or passages in which John invokes Scripture to see if John may be better understood using her method.29 Summarizing, then, some of the insights gleaned from these scholars, the use of Scripture within a group’s narrative points to what Martyn has deemed “the relationship between tradition and contemporary issues.” Scripture may be used to indicate a boundary between those who understand it and those who do not; it may, in Wuthnow’s words, “connect moral prescriptions with tradition.” It may help the auditor make sense of his or her lived experience and remind him or her that that experience, especially suffering or persecution, is part of God’s divine design. In her analysis of Falwell’s use of Scripture over a number of years, years which included real difficulties for Falwell’s ministry, Harding discovered that “what Falwell mastered during the mid-1970s was the biblical language to convert defeat into victory, death into life.”30 And surely Falwell is not too far off of one role of Scripture in a narrative when, speaking of his friend’s attempt to encourage him at a difficult time, he says: Old Dr. Lakin spent the week. There was nothing he could do legally to end our troubles. But he ministered personally to my own tired 28 So, for example, in 12:29–36 the narrator tells a story about the interaction between Jesus and “the crowd.” Jesus says his piece and departs. The narrator proceeds to declare a negative outcome, the crowd “did not believe in him,” and provides an explanation for its disbelief by citing Scripture. 29 Jonathan Z. Smith has also spent some time worrying about texts, preachers, and audience, especially in his article, “Sacred Persistence: Toward a Redescription of Canon,” in Approaches to Ancient Judaism: Theory and Practice (ed. William Scott Green; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1978), 1:11–28. In pursuing John’s comment that “scripture cannot be broken” we lend an ear to Smith, who urges historians of religion to understand canon (the community’s surrender of freedom with regard to texts) and exegesis (the community’s rediscovery of that freedom through its exercise of “ingenuity” within the boundaries of canon), 44. Smith defines canon as “the arbitrary fixing of a limited number of ‘texts’ as immutable and authoritative,” and claims that canon is common. (Smith maintains that “texts” do not necessarily have to be written; this insight will play a fundamental role in my argument concerning Jesus’ words as scriptural in the Fourth Gospel). The essence of canon is its closed nature. A closed canon necessitates a hermeneute whose task lies in applying the canon to new situations not covered within it without appearing to alter the canon in any way. Appropriately Smith likens the process to preaching in which the preacher seeks to make the text speak to a modern situation. Such motives and skills can be attributed to John. 30 Harding, “The Gospel,” 51.

     

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spirit. He retold the  stories about ancient clashes between the government and the prophets. He reminded me of the  stand the apostles and first-century Christians had to take against kings, governors, courts, and ruling bodies. He dragged out all his best dramatic accounts of the prophets and the priests, the martyrs and the saints. And he inspired me through the telling.31

Harding provides one answer to Martyn’s question about the relationship between tradition and contemporary issues when she finds the following connections between Scripture, narrative, and a community’s life of faith, connections to be found in the Fourth Gospel as well: Fundamentalists are still writing the Bible, inscribing it into their lives, endlessly generating a third Testament in their speech and action. Their Bible is alive, its narrative shape enacts reality, infills it with form and meaning. It is, we might say, miraculous, this discourse which effects the world it speaks by constituting subjects who bring it about.32

Scripture While one has the sense that Scripture pervades the Fourth Gospel, at nineteen particular places the author explicitly announces that Scripture is being directly quoted, implying that these passages deserve special attention. Since I am interested in determining how John uses Scripture to shape his group, I will privilege first and foremost those places where he himself clearly indicates that Scripture is being cited and only secondarily turn to a few representative instances where John quotes or alludes to Scripture without explicitly indicating that he is doing so. Having done that, I will explore the role of Jesus’ own words in the Fourth Gospel. The text itself calls for attention to Jesus’ own words, which, as it turns out, share a unique relationship with the words of Scripture. The words of Jesus become the ultimate authority for the group; indeed, the author transfers the language that is usually reserved for Scripture to Jesus’ own words such that his words are given priority. As the Johannine sectarian knows, Scripture is not self-evident but is open to misinterpretation. It cannot be the solid rock upon which one stands to begin her journey toward understanding 31 32

Ibid., 49. Ibid., 54.

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God; only Jesus’ words constitute that solid rock. One must start from Jesus’ own words, the hermeneutical key, and only then attempt to understand Scripture’s testimony to God, not vice versa. Direct Citations According to the Author of the Fourth Gospel Fourth Gospel

Indicator

Situation in Narrative

1:23

kay∆w e‰pen ÉHsa˛aw ı profÆthw

John the Baptist says it

2:17

gegramm°non §st¤n

disciples recall a relevant scriptural passage

6:31

kay≈w §stin gegramm°non

Jews quote it to Jesus in a challenge

6:45

¶stin gegramm°non §n to›w profÆtaiw

Jesus quotes it to Jews

7:38

kay∆w e‰pen ≤ grafÆ

Jesus quotes it to Jews

8:17

§n t“ nÒmƒ d¢ t“ Ímet°rƒ g°graptai

Jesus quotes it to Jews

10:34

¶stin gegramm°non §n t“ nÒmƒ Ím«n

Jesus quotes it to Jews

12:13, 16

taËta ∑n §pÉ aÈt“ gegramm°na

narrator indicates that disciples remembered citation

12:14–15

kay≈w §stin gegramm°non

narrator explains Jesus’ actions

12:38

·na ı lÒgow ÉHsa˛ou toË profÆtou plhrvhyª

narrator explains Jewish disbelief

12:39–40

e‰pen ÉHsa˛aw

narrator explains Jewish disbelief

12:41

e‰pen ÉHsa˛aw

narrator regarding Isaiah’s vision

13:18

·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª

Jesus regarding Judas

15:25

·na plhrvyª ı lÒgow ı §n t“ nÒmƒ aÈt«n gegramm°now

Jesus regarding Jewish rejection

17:12

·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª

Jesus in prayer regarding Judas

19:24

·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª

narrator regarding Jesus’ clothes

19:28

·na teleivyª ≤ grafÆ

narrator regarding Jesus’ thirst

19:36

·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª

narrator regarding Jesus’ bones

19:37

grafØ l°gei

narrator regarding piercing

     

223

It is now appropriate to commence analysis of the direct scriptural quotes that appear in the Fourth Gospel.33 John 1:23: ¶fh, ÉEg∆ fvnØ bo«ntow §n tª §rÆmƒ, EÈyÊnate tØn ıdÚn kur¤ou, kay∆w e‰pen ÉHsa˛aw ı profÆthw. Here the author has John the Baptist quote part of Isa 40:3: fvnØ bo«ntow §n tª §rÆmƒ •toimãsate tØn ıdÚn kur¤ou eÈye¤aw poie›te tåw tr¤bouw toË yeoË ≤m«n. This citation also appears in the Synoptics

but differs in two ways. First, John quotes only the first part of the verse, whereas the Synoptics include the latter part as well. The Synoptics quote the passage in full, as we have it transmitted in  , while John replaces §toimãsate with eÈyÊnate, the verb that approximates the eÈye¤aw poie›te found in the second part of the verse, thereby paraphrasing and compressing Isa 40:3. Second, and more importantly, John puts the citation in the mouth of John the Baptist so that he himself fully understands and proclaims what exactly his role is and is not. We might be tempted to ascribe little significance to this citation if we quickly notice that all four Gospels cite it in one form or 33 In initially undertaking a study of John’s use of Scripture, it is tempting to rely upon a resource such as NA26, as it demarcates scriptural use in three different ways: 1) marginal references; 2) italics in the text itself; and 3) an appendix entitled: “Loci Citati vel Allegati.” For the casual inquirer, it serves as a starting place, but for the serious student of the Fourth Gospel, it will not do for a number of reasons. First, there are occasions where the Fourth Gospel explicitly claims to refer to Scripture but NA26 does not include it in the Appendix (e.g., 8:17). Second, there are occasions where the Fourth Gospel does not explicitly claim to refer to Scripture and NA26 nonetheless includes them in the list of direct citations (e.g., 1:51; 12:27; 16:22). Third, there are inconsistencies between the marginal notes and the Appendix (so, NA26 italicizes Isa 40:9 in the body of the text but not in the Appendix). Fourth, NA26 provides the ostensible scriptural references for John’s quotations, but quite often it is impossible to determine which text John intends in a given passage since he rarely quotes verbatim the  or . Fifth, if such is the case for the instances in which John overtly declares that he invokes Scripture, how much more difficult it is to determine the  text upon which an allusion is based? Finally, positing allusions at all is necessarily a speculative endeavor that precludes certainty. NA26 finds allusions to at least 217  texts and twenty-seven apocryphal or pseudepigraphical texts. It has almost certainly omitted some and probably included some that do not belong. Regarding omissions, the number for Genesis should be higher insofar as Dahl has shown that 8:44 comprises an unmistakable allusion to Genesis 4. See Dahl, “Der Erstgeborene,” 70–84. Furthermore, the number of references to Numbers cited by NA26 is certainly too low insofar as NA26 notes only one reference to Numbers in ch. 6. Peder Borgen has proven that almost the entire chapter is nothing but a reworking of Scripture.

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another and all do so with respect to John the Baptist. This may inappropriately cause us to estimate that it is simply such an established piece of Christian tradition that John cannot help but include it. Attention to the Johannine context as well as a comparison with the Synoptics, however, demonstrates that the Fourth Gospel’s use of the quotation serves a unique function. From the beginning of the Gospel, the author takes great pains to relegate John the Baptist to a subordinate role. Immediately after introducing Jesus as God, the author turns his attention to John the Baptist and declares that his role was that of a witness (martur¤a) to Christ, “the true light which enlightens everyone” and which “shines in the darkness.” The author apparently does not consider the positive statement of John’s role enough and clarifies further what John’s role was not, namely, he was not the light ( John 1:8). The fact that the author “protesteth too much” indicates that some people were positing that John himself was the light. The author returns to the topic of Christ at v. 14: Ka‹ ı lÒgow sårj §g°neto ka‹ §skÆnvsen §n ≤m›n, ka‹ §yeasãmeya tØn dÒjan aÈtoË, dÒjan …w monogenoËw parå patrÒw, plÆrhw xãritow ka‹ élhye¤aw. Verse 16, ˜ti §k toË plhr≈matow aÈtoË ≤me›w pãntew §lãbomen ka‹ xãrin ént‹ xãritow logically follows v. 14, especially because of the linking words “fullness” and “grace.” Verse 15 appears as a discordant interruption, blazoning: ÉIvãnnhw marture› per‹ aÈtoË ka‹ k°kragen l°gvn, Otow ∑n ˘n e‰pon, ÑO Ùp¤sv mou §rxÒmenow ¶mprosy°n mou g°gonen, ˜ti pr«tÒw mou ∑n. Noting the intrusive nature of the verse, Bultmann explains it as an addition to the original Prologue meant to subordinate John the Baptist. Es handelt sich bekanntlich vor allem darum, ob die Verse 6–8 und 15 zum ursprünglichen Bestande gehorën. Ich schließe mich hier ganz dem Urteil Wellhausens an, der diese Verse für spätere Einfügungen erklärt, und will seine Gründe nicht weiderholen, die mir auch durch Ed. Meyer und H. Leisegang neuerdings nicht widerlegt zu sein scheinen.34 Aber vor einer Entscheidung ist zu erwägen, ob man vielleicht doch den ganzen Prolog außer den Versen 6–8.15 und 17 und den christlichen Zusätzen in V. 1 (?) 9 (?) und 12 als vorchristliche Vorlage verstehen kann, ob hier schon gestanden haben kann: ka‹ ı lÒgow sårj §g°neto. Schon die Vorlage hätte dann den Gedanken der früheren Offenbarungsträger

34 Rudolf Bultmann, “Der religionsgeschichtliche Hintergrund des Prologs,” in Erich Dinkler, ed., Exegetica (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1967), 10.

     

225

zurückgedrängt, um alles Licht auf den entscheidenden Offenbarer zu konzentrieren, und dieser wäre dann offenbar in einer geschichtlichen Gestalt der unmittelbaren Vergangenheit geschaut gewesen. Wer sollte das gewesen sein? Aus dem eigentlichen Judentum könnte die Vorlage dann kaum stammen, sondern wohl nur aus dem Täufertum, in dessen Kreisen man vom Täufer Johannes ausgesagt hätte, daß in ihm der Logos Fleisch ward. So würde sich auch erklären, daß der Evangelist (der diese Vorlage aus hellenistisch-jüdischen Täuferkreisen übernimmt und auf Jesus überträgt) in V. 6–8 und V. 15 den Täufer zum Zeugen für Jesus herabdrückt.35

Not a few scholars have commented on the disruption of v. 15, and English translations often enclose the verse with parentheses. As Raymond Brown states, “It is agreed today that this verse is an addition to the original hymn, an addition of the same type as vv. 6–8 (9), awkwardly breaking up vss. 14 and 16.”36 Just as in his two preceding appearances, John is presented in v. 19 with “witness” language (martur¤a). Again, as in the two preceding appearances, John defines his role vis-à-vis Christ. He denies being the Messiah, Elijah, or the prophet, that is, Moses, or the “prophet like Moses” (Deut 18).37 Having proclaimed who he is not, John proceeds to announce that he is the voice spoken of by Isaiah. This will not be the last time that “the Jews” trouble themselves over defining a character’s identity in this Gospel. At v. 19 the author identifies the authoritative senders as “the Jews”; in v. 24 he further specifies that they are “the Pharisees.” The “priests and Levites from Jerusalem” appear as the Pharisees’ lackeys. They then express concern that he is baptizing, a privilege apparently reserved for the Messiah, Elijah or the prophet, all of which John has just denied being. The issue of who baptizes and how will

35

Ibid., 32–33. Brown, John, 15. According to Brown’s judgment: “Verse 14 has stated that the pre-existent heavenly Word became flesh. Apparently the redactor who added vss. 6–9 has also added 15, intending to confirm vs. 14 with John the Baptist’s testimony that Jesus is pre-existent. There is obvious polemic against any suggestion that John the Baptist might be greater than Jesus because he began his ministry first” (35). John Painter writes: “The witness of the Baptist is appropriately introduced at 15. But this verse interrupts the first person plural confession (‘we beheld . . .’) which is continued in 16. This indicates that 15 has been introduced into an existing composition because of the proclamation of the incarnation in v. 14.” “Christology and the History of the Johannine Community in the Prologue of the Fourth Gospel,” NTS 30 (1984), 462. 37 Meeks, Prophet-King. 36

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arise again a few verses later. The author closes the pericope, not accidentally, by saying that this controversy of identity took place in Bethany. None of the Synoptics envisions Bethany as the place connected with John’s testimony. Bethany will appear three more times in the Gospel, always in close connection with Jesus’ identity. It occurs twice in the story of Lazarus’ resurrection, a sign that foreshadows Jesus’ own death and resurrection. It occurs again in the story of Mary’s anointing Jesus, which again foreshadows his death, or, as Jesus says, “Leave her alone, so that she might observe it for the day of my burial” (my translation). John ensures that the connection will be made in the reader’s mind by opening the story of the anointing by saying, “Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead” (12:1). Indeed, right after that he enters Jerusalem, which signals the beginning of the end for his earthly existence. The Synoptics place John the Baptist in the ¶rhmow, which presumably provides the rationale for invoking Isa 40:3. Thus, in the Synoptics Isa 40:3 serves as a fulfillment of prophecy. The author of the Fourth Gospel neither places John the Baptist in the ¶rhmow nor does he have Jesus driven there to be tempted. The author uses the word sparingly38 and usually in contexts reminiscent of Moses. In ch. 3 he alludes to Moses’ lifting up the serpent in the wilderness (¶rhmow) which he considers the type to which his death and resurrection will correspond as anti-type. In ch. 6, known as the Bread Discourse, Jesus’ audience twice claims that Moses gave their ancestors manna to eat in the wilderness (¶rhmow). The Bread Discourse and the direct allusion to the manna in the wilderness does not appear in the Synoptics, though one could argue that the Synoptic authors certainly intend to evoke that very context by placing the Feeding of the Five Thousand in the ¶rhmow (Matt 14:15; Mark 6:35; Luke 9:13). Matthew and Mark do the same with the Feeding of the Four Thousand (Matt 15:33; Mark 8:4), a story that appears in neither Luke nor John. As it turns out, the pericope in which Isa 40:3 is located in John has almost nothing in common with the Synoptic parallels. The Synoptics do not have John wrangle with “the Jews” over whether

38 Only four times outside the Isaiah quote as compared with Matthew’s seven, Mark’s eight, and Luke’s nine.

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he is the Messiah, Elijah, or the prophet; they do not place the citation in John’s own mouth. They have John operating in the wilderness, not in Bethany. Mark quotes Exod 23:20, which is linked to the Isaiah quotation by the concern for “preparing the way” and which makes John’s primary role that of a messenger (êggelow) who prepares Jesus’ way; both Matthew and Luke apply the same quote to John at a later point in their Gospels. For the author of the Fourth Gospel, John is not a messenger but a witness. Both the Synoptics and the Fourth Gospel have John perform the role they have assigned him, so the Synoptics depict him declaring a message, namely, “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.” Never does the word “repent” appear on John the Baptist’s or anyone else’s lips in the Fourth Gospel. But the Fourth Gospel claims from the beginning that John’s role was one of a mãrtuw and the author depicts him fulfilling such a role thoroughly. His only “message” in the Fourth Gospel is his testifying to Jesus as the Messiah. In no way is Jesus’ ministry dependent upon John’s. On the other hand, the Synoptics never depict John using mãrtuw language. The next passage, 1:29–34, which follows the interrogation concerning John’s identity, once again finds John testifying (martur°v) to Jesus’ lofty identity, a point that is made twice (vv. 32 and 34), once by the author and once by John himself. Again, the Synoptic parallels reveal that the Fourth Evangelist goes his own way. The most significant difference between the accounts is that the Synoptics have John baptize Jesus, an idea which the Fourth Evangelist eschews entirely. In no way does this author imagine a passing of the baton, so to speak, from John to Jesus. This is not a cooperative venture; Jesus stands alone with John never anything but subordinate to him. Another glaring difference lies in the author’s having John repeat the saying about Jesus’ ranking before him. This is now the third time (cf. 1:15 and 1:27) the author has explicitly made the point which the Synoptics make only once, namely, John’s lowly ranking vis-à-vis Jesus. Finally, the narrative about the Spirit descending upon Jesus like a dove differs greatly between the Synoptics and the Fourth Gospel. The Synoptics narrate the event as occurring immediately after his baptism by John. They depict heaven opening, the Spirit descending upon Jesus like a dove, and a voice from heaven proclaiming to or about Jesus that he is God’s Beloved Son. This marks the beginning of Jesus’ ministry in the Synoptics. In Mark and Luke, God

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directly addresses Jesus, and it could be argued that it marks the beginning of Jesus’ own understanding of his calling. Matthew has a more general proclamation, saying, “This is my Beloved Son,” rather than “You are my Beloved Son.” In all of the Synoptic accounts, it is somewhat unclear as to who, besides Jesus, hears the voice, and no mention is made of John the Baptist. In the Fourth Gospel, however, the event is imagined as happening primarily so that John the Baptist might be able to testify to Jesus’ identity. The narrator indicates this when he begins the story by saying, “And John bore witness (martur°v)” and then changes to a first person account on the part of John the Baptist in which he relates seeing the Spirit descend upon Jesus and remain upon him. Unlike the Synoptics, this does not occur in the context of Jesus being baptized. God does not address Jesus or anyone else but John the Baptist, and apparently the address occurred before the actual sending of the Spirit on Jesus. God had told John the Baptist ahead of time what to expect, and when it happened John recognized its fulfillment and, according to his first person account, dutifully proceeded to testify (martur°v) that Jesus is the Son of God. This is a radically different story from the Synoptic accounts. The next passage, 1:35–42, finds John the Baptist directing two of his own disciples to Jesus by proclaiming him to be the Lamb of God; he made the same proclamation the day before, in v. 29. Where Andrew and the other disciple had once followed (ékolouy°v, v. 40) John, they have transferred their discipleship to Jesus (ékolouy°v, v. 38). John appears again in ch. 3 where, uniquely, the narrator depicts John and Jesus baptizing simultaneously. The simultaneous baptizing serves two functions. First, it obliterates any notion of the “passing of the baton” found in the Synoptics, which implies that Jesus cannot begin his ministry until John ends his, thereby making Jesus’ ministry dependent on John’s. Second, it sets John the Baptist up for yet another opportunity to humble himself and testify to Jesus’ exalted identity. Like the first passage that evidenced John’s doing this, the event is instigated by the Jews,39 an interesting ascription

39 The ancient  evidence is evenly divided on whether “Jew” or “Jews” should be read. Lectio difficilior demands that the singular be read, assuming that a singular is more likely to have been changed to the plural in keeping with the majority of the Gospel. Also in support of the singular is the fact that nowhere does the

     

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given that John, his disciples, and Jesus were all Jews. I will return to this point when I analyze the text at the social-historical level rather than the narrative. John’s disciples depict the relationship between John and Jesus as competitive; they worry that everyone whom John baptizes is “crossing over” (p°ran in v. 26) on both a literal level, from the Decapolis, where Aenon and Salim are located, to Judea, and on a metaphorical level, from John to Jesus. But John refuses to engage in competition and instead shows that such a situation is God’s will; it is what has been “given from heaven” (v. 27). Furthermore, he reminds them that they themselves witnessed (martur°v) John’s insistence that he is not the Messiah. He then identifies himself as merely a “friend of the bridegroom” whose role is to listen to the bridegroom. Jesus is the bridegroom who now stands center stage, with John taking a seat in the audience. For anyone doubting John’s intention to humble himself and even remove himself from the picture, the author has John declare, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (3:30). The author has thus insisted that John’s disciples became Jesus’ disciples and that such a move was authorized and celebrated by John (“For this reason my joy has been fulfilled,” v. 29). The material about John in 3:22–30 shares much in common with that in 1:19–28, both structurally and substantially. Both depict “the Jews” initiating a pointed conversation which results in John’s defining his role vis-à-vis Jesus. In both cases he declares that he is not the Messiah, but rather one who has been sent ahead to testify to him who is coming. In fact, at 3:28 the author has John refer back to and quote what he had said in 1:20ff.: “You yourselves are my

plural occur without the definite article, which would be the case here if one adopted the plural reading. On the other hand, because the singular is so rare in the Gospel, occurring only at 4:9 and 18:35, both in reference to Jesus’ being a Jew, reason might impel one to assume that the plural is more likely. Furthermore, John’s first confession of “I am not the Messiah” was instigated by “the Jews” (1:19) who are later identified as “Pharisees” (1:24). That the present instance of the same confession is instigated by “Jews” is made probable by the fact that John 4:1 refers to “the Pharisees” having heard that Jesus was making more disciples that John, which can only refer to the preceding passage, and, in fact, seems to serve no other purpose than to further identify the “Jews” in v. 25. Its apparent reason for inclusion is given as the impetus for Jesus’ departing, but as such it is a strange verse. Perhaps the deciding factor is that nowhere does the plural occur without the definite article, which would be the case here if one adopted the plural reading. Hence, the singular is more probable.

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witnesses that I said, ‘I am not the Messiah, but I have been sent ahead of him.’” Finally, John the Baptist concludes both passages by using metaphorical language to show his subordinate position to Jesus, first as unworthy to untie Jesus’ sandal and second as a friend of the bridegroom. John appears twice more in the Gospel; not surprisingly, both instances depict him solely in the role of testifying to Jesus. In ch. 5, however, John does not make first person proclamations about his role as testifier; rather, Jesus invokes John as a witness to his true identity. Jesus is engaged in a controversy with “the Jews” (5:18) over his making himself “equal to God” (5:18) and he declares: “§ån §g∆ martur« per‹ §mautoË, ≤ martur¤a mou oÈk ¶stin élhyÆw: êllow §st‹n ı martur«n per‹ §moË, ka‹ o‰da ˜ti élhyÆw §stin ≤ martur¤a ∂n marture› per‹ §moË . Íme›w épestãlkate prÚw ÉIvãnnhn , ka‹ memartÊrhken tª élhye¤&” (5:31–33). Lest anyone think that Jesus depends upon John’s testimony of him, however, Jesus quickly offers these caveats: “§g∆ d¢ oÈ parå ényr≈pou tØn martur¤an lambãnv, éllå taËta l°gv ·na Íme›w svy∞te” (5:34) and “§g∆ d¢ ¶xv tØn martur¤an me¤zv toË ÉIvãnnou” (5:36a). He goes on to specifically identify that greater testimony as his works and his father: “tå går ¶rga ì d°dvk°n moi ı patØr ·na telei≈sv aÈtã, aÈtå tå ¶rga ì poi« marture› per‹ §moË ˜ti ı patÆr me ép°stalken: ka‹ ı p°mcaw me patØr §ke›now memartÊrhken per‹ §moË” (5:36–37).

Notice the frequency with which the author employs “witness” language in this passage, ten times in all. Chapter one comes in second place with seven occurrences. Of the forty-six times that “witness” language is used, one quarter of them refer to John the Baptist. His role is nothing in this Gospel but a witness to Christ’s identity.40 Chapter ten is the last time that listeners hear of John the Baptist. The same tight connection observed between 3:22–30 and 1:19–28 exists also between 5:16–47 and 10:22–42. In both cases, the scene has been set at the time of a Jewish festival in Jerusalem. In ch. 10 “the Jews” ask Jesus about his identity, whether or not he is “the Christ” (v. 24), and he reminds them of what he had said in ch. 5 regarding his works: épekr¤yh aÈto›w ı ÉIhsoËw, E‰pon Ím›n ka‹ oÈ pisteÊete: tå ¶rga ì §g∆ poi« §n t“ ÙnÒmati toË patrÒw mou taËta

40

Cf. Dahl, “Johannine Church,” 106.

     

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marture› per‹ §moË: éllå Íme›w oÈ pisteÊete, ˜ti oÈk §st¢ §k t«n probãtvn t«n §m«n. Looking back to ch. 5, we find that Jesus is cor-

rect; he did formerly explain that he does works in his father’s name which testify to him, but the interrogators do not believe because they do not belong to Jesus’ own. A number of verses from ch. 5 validate this. Verses 36–38 deserve special attention; I have marked the parallels with 10:25–26. 5.17 ı d¢ É[IhsoËw] épekr¤nato aÈto›w, ÑO patÆr mou ßvw êrti §rgãzetai, kég∆ §rgãzomai. 5.19 ÉApekr¤nato oÔn ı ÉIhsoËw ka‹ ¶legen aÈto›w, ÉAmØn émØn l°gv Ím›n, oÈ dÊnatai ı uflÚw poie›n éfÉ •autoË oÈd¢n §ån mÆ ti bl°p˙ tÚn pat°ra poioËnta: ì går ín §ke›now poiª, taËta ka‹ ı uflÚw ımo¤vw poie›. 5.20 ı går patØr file› tÚn uflÚn ka‹ pãnta de¤knusin aÈt“ ì aÈtÚw poie›, ka‹ me¤zona toÊtvn de¤jei aÈt“ ¶rga, ·na Íme›w yaumãzhte. 5:36 §g∆ d¢ ¶xv tØn martur¤an me¤zv toË ÉIvãnnou: tå går ¶rga ì d°dvk°n moi ı patØr 10:25b: tå ¶rga ì §g≈ poi« §n ·na telei≈sv aÈtã, t“ ÙnÒmati toË patrÒw mou aÈtå tå ¶rga ì poi« marture› per‹ §moË ˜ti ı patÆr me ép°stalken:

10:25c: taËta marture› per‹ §moË:

5:38 ka‹ tÚn lÒgon aÈtoË oÈk ¶xete §n Ím›n m°nonta, ˜ti ˘n ép°steilen §ke›now, toÊtƒ Íme›w oÈ pisteÊete.

10:25a: oÈ pisteÊete; 10:26: Íme›w oÈ pisteÊete

10:25 épekr¤yh aÈto›w ı ÉIhsoËw, E‰pon Ím›n ka‹ oÈ pisteÊete: tå ¶rga ì §g∆ poi« §n t“ ÙnÒmati toË patrÒw mou taËta marture› per‹ §moË: 10.26 éllå Íme›w oÈ pisteÊete, ˜ti oÈk §st¢ §k t«n probãtvn t«n §m«n. The points made in 10:25–26, namely, that the Jews do not believe because they do not abide with Jesus, that Jesus’ works stem from the Father, and that the works bear witness to Jesus, do specifically hearken back to 5:36–38, where Jesus previously made the same points. Moving to the next verses in ch. 10, we see the following comparisons:

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10:27 tå prÒbata tå §må t∞w fvn∞w mou ékoÊousin, kég∆ gin≈skv aÈtã ka‹ ékolouyoËs¤n moi, 10:28 kég∆ d¤dvmi aÈto›w zvØn a`fi≈nion

5:37 oÎte fvnØn aÈtoË p≈pote ékhkÒate 5:39 §raunçte tåw grafãw, ˜ti Íme›w doke›te §n aÈta›w zvØn afi≈nion ¶xein: ka‹ §ke›na¤ efisin afl marturoËsai per‹ §moË: 5:40 ka‹ oÈ y°lete §lye›n prÒw me ·na zvØn ¶xhte (cf. 5:21 Àsper går ı patØr §ge¤rei toÁw nekroÁw ka‹ zƒopoie›, oÏtvw ka‹ ı uflÒw oÓw y°lei zƒopoie›) (cf. 5:24 ÉAmØn émØn l°gv Ím›n ˜ti ı tÚn lÒgon mou ékoÊvn ka‹ pisteÊvn t“ p°mcant¤ me ¶xei zvØn afi≈nion ka‹ efiw kr¤sin oÈk ¶rxetai, éllå metab°bh ken §k toË yanãtou efiw tØn zvÆn.

Both passages worry about hearing Jesus and therefore receiving eternal life, or not. Numerous other parallels from the passage in ch. 5 could be listed, especially the hearing, resurrection from the dead, and eternal life language in 5:25–29, but the point is made without enumerating them in detail. The next aspect of the present pericope which is paralleled in ch. 5, and only in ch. 5, is the Jews’ animosity towards Jesus because of his “making himself God.” Note the language about the works which appears in both passages; at present I will focus only on the charge of Jesus’ identity as God. 10:30 §g∆ ka‹ ı patØr ßn §smen

10:31 ÉEbãstasan pãlin l¤youw ofl ÉIouda›oi ·na liyãsvsin aÈtÒn.

5:18c: éllå ka‹ pat°ra ‡dion ¶legen tÚn yeÒn ‡son •autÚn poi«n t“ ye“. 5.18a §zÆtoun aÈtÚn ofl ÉIouda›oi épokte›nai

10:32 épekr¤yh aÈto›w ı ÉIhsoËw, Pollå ¶rga kalå ¶deija Ím›n §k toË patrÒw: diå po›on aÈt«n ¶rgon §m¢ liyãzete;

10:33 épekr¤yhsan aÈt“ ofl ÉIouda›oi, Per‹ kaloË ¶rgou

5:18 diå toËto oÔn mçllon §zÆtoun aÈtÚn ofl ÉIouda›oi épokte›nai, ˜ti

      oÈ liyãzom°n se éllå per‹ blasfhm¤aw, ka‹ ˜ti s`Á ênyrvpow Ãn poie›w seautÚn yeÒn.

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oÈ mÒnon ¶luen tÚ sãbbaton, éllå ka‹ pat°ra ‡dion ¶legen tÚn yeÒn ‡son •autÚn poi«n t“ ye“.

In both instances, Jesus has recently done a good work that has upset the Jews, but even more so, they seek to harm him because he is making himself equal to God. As all students of the Fourth Gospel know, the irony in the charge is thick, since, of course, Jesus is in no way a mere human being making himself God, but is God Incarnate, which the audience knows from the Prologue. The last element of the two controversies centers on Scripture: 10:34 O`Èk ¶stin gegramm°non §n t“ nÒmƒ Ím«n ˜ti ÉEg∆ e‰pa, Yeo¤ §ste; efi §ke¤nouw e‰pen yeoÁw prÚw oÓw ı lÒgow toË yeoË §g°neto, ka‹ oÈ dÊnatai luy∞nai ≤ grafÆ, ˘n ı patØr ≤g¤asen ka‹ ép°steilen efiw tÚn kÒsmon Íme›w l°gete ˜ti Blasfhme›w, ˜ti e‰pon, UflÚw toË yeoË efimi; 10:37 efi oÈ poi« tå ¶rga toË patrÒw mou, mØ pisteÊet° moi: 10.38 efi d¢ poi«, kín §mo‹ mØ pisteÊhte, to›w ¶rgoiw pisteÊete, ·na gn«te ka‹ gin≈skhte ˜ti §n §mo‹ ı patØr kég∆ §n t“ patr¤.

5:39 §raunçte tåw grafãw, ˜ti Íme›w doke›te §n aÈta›w zvØn afi≈nion ¶xein: ka‹ §ke›na¤ efisin afl marturoËsai per‹ §moË:

5:45 mØ doke›te ˜ti §g≈ kathgorÆsv Ím«n prÚw tÚn pat°ra: ¶stin ı kathgor«n Ím«n Mv#s∞w, efiw ˘n Íme›w ±lp¤kate. 5:46 efi går §pisteÊete Mv#se›, §pisteÊete ín §mo¤: per‹ går §moË §ke›now ¶gracen. 5:47 efi d¢ to›w §ke¤nou grãmmasin oÈ pisteÊete, p«w to›w §mo›w =Æmasin pisteÊsete;

The parallels between the texts could be discussed at great length, but here I simply mention them. All references to Scripture have been singly underlined and those referring to believing have been doubly underlined. The main point to be understood in both cases is that Scripture witnesses to Christ’s identity. In both cases Jesus makes a rhetorical move about believing such that, rather than simply saying, “Believe in me,” he invites them to believe in something else (what Moses wrote and Jesus’ works) which then leads to believing in Jesus and to an understanding of the relationship between Jesus and the Father.

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The pericope in ch. 10 ends with what appears to be a gratuitous mention of John the Baptist. But when we have recognized that John only ever appears to witness to Jesus’ identity, the point of his mention becomes clear on the rhetorical level, if not the narrative level. That is, at the beginning of the Gospel John appears testifying to Jesus’ identity as the Son of God (1:34).41 Between there and ch. 10, the author has employed God, Scripture, and Jesus’ works as “witnesses” as well. By the end of ch. 10 we have come full circle so that what was presented in ch. 1 is validated in ch. 10. John made certain proclamations regarding Jesus’ identity; now we find anonymous believers remembering what John had said: ka‹ pollo‹ ∑lyon prÚw aÈtÚn ka‹ ¶legon ˜ti ÉIvãnnhw m¢n shme›on §po¤hsen oÈd°n, pãnta d¢ ˜sa e‰pen ÉIvãnnhw per‹ toÊtou élhy∞ ∑n (10:41).

Jesus’ works, God the Father himself, Scripture, and John the Baptist all serve as mighty witnesses to Christ’s identity. In this way, John’s testimony is elevated in status, for surely the trinity of Jesus’ works, Scripture, and God is quite an impressive one with which to be listed; however, his role is limited to witnessing and, unlike Jesus’ works and God, he enjoys no other importance in this Gospel. As always, the narrator is especially eager to emphasize this and does so here by having the believers concisely declare that John did no sign. It is a rather odd thing to say because it does not seem logically connected to the second part of the proposition. Why not leave it at, “Everything John said about this man was true”? The author is subordinating John to Jesus who, in stark comparison with John, did do shme›a, a characteristic so important to Jesus’ ministry that the first twelve chapters of the Fourth Gospel are commonly called “The Book of Signs” by scholars. That John does not appear after this point should not surprise us; his only function was to testify publicly to Jesus’ identity, and the rest of the Gospel shows Jesus turning toward his “hour,” toward his farewell discourse and passion. Upon first glance, then, the ostensible reason for the invocation of Scripture at 1:23 is to show that John’s role was predicted by Scripture. But the scriptural citation itself is used by John to solidify his immediately preceding assertions, which functioned to put him in proper relation to Jesus. By tracing John’s role through the Gospel

41 Of course, John’s is not the first announcement to the reader about Jesus’ identity as Son of God; the narrator has made the point in the Prologue.

     

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we discover that his other appearances corroborate this initial scriptural announcement so that the author heavily subordinates John to Jesus. The author’s treatment follows the technique observed by Witten in the sermon that used redundancy to restrict meaning. John the Baptist displays the same qualities, goals, and actions throughout the story. Furthermore, the narrator’s own commentary restricts meaning for the reader insofar as his own commentary affirms what is stated about John by both Jesus and John himself. It is not within the scope of this book to identify the function of John the Baptist in each of the Synoptics, but it is safe to say that he stands on his own as an authoritative figure there. There he is sent as a “messenger” to “prepare the way” for Jesus. He has his own message. In Mark and Luke he preaches a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins (Mark 1:4; Luke 3:3); in Matthew he preaches, “Repent for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand.” In Luke he preaches particular ethics (Luke 3:10–14). In Q, he can engage in debate with those who claim to have Abraham as their Father (Matt 3:7–10; Luke 3:7–9). In the Fourth Gospel, on the other hand, Jesus is the one who debates their claim to have Abraham as their father ( John 8). In the Synoptics, John rebukes Herod about his morality (Matt 14:3ff. and parallels) and Herod imagines that Jesus is John redivivus. In direct contrast to the Fourth Gospel, Matthew has Jesus testify to John and to declare that John is Elijah, an identity the Fourth Gospel overtly has John deny. At any rate, John is clearly not a cipher in the Synoptics; he is a rich character.42 How does this treatment of John the Baptist relate to the realities of the late first-century Johannine community? It would appear that some people were elevating John to a very high status,43 probably at least to the level of being Elijah, a figure who had to come

42 All of the Gospels, however, do subordinate John to Jesus, but not so unreservedly. 43 Bultmann, The Gospel of John, 18, explains: “The motive for the insertion of vv. 6–8, 15 is clear from their polemical character. For their purpose is not only the positive one of proclaiming the Baptist as witness for Jesus; it is also polemical: to dispute the claim that the Baptist has the authority of the Revealer. This authority must therefore have been attributed by the Baptist sect to their master; they saw in him the f«w, and thus also the pre-existent Logos become flesh. This suggests that the source-text was a hymn of the Baptist-Community. By referring it to Jesus, the evangelist would then have been acting in a way similar to that of the Church Fathers, who saw a prophecy of Jesus Christ in the 4th Eclogue of Vergil. There is no difficulty in this conjecture, if one may suppose that the evangelist once

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before Jesus could be designated or operate as Messiah. Such a claim is certainly legitimated by the Synoptics. It looks as though some were even raising him to the same status as Jesus so that the author has to declare that John was not the light. Whether the author’s community was battling an outside group of John the Baptist’s disciples or insiders who were unclear about Jesus’ solitary authoritative status is not clear. That some number of the Johannine community were those who transferred their discipleship from John to Jesus is indicated by chs. 1 and 3, which show John himself directing his own followers to Jesus. One can imagine lingering loyalty to John that disallowed Jesus to stand as the only authority. Matthew calls John Elijah. The author of the Fourth Gospel does not envision John as anything but a witness, and specifically a strictly human one (ênyrvpow, 5:34).44 In addition to the possibility of an outside group

belonged to the Baptist community, until his eyes were opened to perceive that not John, but Jesus was the Revealer sent by God. For without doubt the narrative I. 35–51 bears witness to the fact that one section of the disciples of the Baptist went over to the Christian community; and must we not therefore assume that Baptist tradition was taken over by the Christians?” Paul Lemarche writes about John the Baptist’s role in the Prologue: “As has often been rightly stated, John may have wished to show honour to his previous master, whilst at the same time trying to draw over to Christ the laggard disciples of the precursor.” “The Prologue of John,” in The Interpretation of John (ed. John Ashton, 2d ed.; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997), 47. In “Johannine Church,” 106, Dahl contends: “Like the earlier evangelists and the tradition before them, John begins the Gospel story with John the Baptist. But in the Fourth Gospel the point is not that a new epoch within a continuous history of salvation begins. The Baptist is nothing but the voice of one crying in the wilderness; he is misunderstood if he is taken to have any greatness of his own (1:19–27; 3:25–30). His only function is to bear witness to Christ (1:6–8; etc.).” Cf. Wayne A. Meeks, “Man from Heaven,” 173: “It is astonishing that attempts to solve the Johannine puzzle have almost totally ignored the question of what social function the myths may have had. . . . We know at least a few things about its history—all from direct allusions in the documents themselves. The group had to distinguish itself over against the sect of John the Baptist and even more passionately over against a rather strong Jewish community with which highly ambivalent relationships had existed.” Cf. David Rensberger, Johannine Faith and Liberating Community (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), 56: “Turning to John the Baptist, we may note that it has long been recognized that behind the portrait of him in the Fourth Gospel there lies a rivalry current in the evangelist’s days between Christians and followers of the Baptist who made messianic claims on his behalf. . . . In this way John the Baptist’s followers are made to hear their own master call on them to accept the claims of Jesus—or rather, the claims made about Jesus by the Johannine Christians. Thus John the Baptist also is important not simply as an individual but as evoking a group on whom the evangelist wished to press his christological claims.” 44 Compare this to 10:33 where the Jews claim that Jesus is making himself God, though he is only human (ênyrvpow).

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of John the Baptist’s disciples, an inside group that came from John the Baptist, or an inside group familiar with the Synoptic vision of John, it may be that the Jews who were putting Johannine Christians out of the synagogue were using John the Baptist traditions against the group. Perhaps more than one of the above obtained. Regardless of which was the case, the scriptural quote at 1:23 subordinates John in order to portray Jesus as the only leader who enjoys special status. Both the Qumran and Branch Davidian materials show Scripture used to define the role of the group’s leaders, usually to justify the groups’ ascription of authority to the leader. There is, however, a notable difference. While the Teacher of Righteousness unquestionably enjoyed the most authority of any leader in the Qumran culture, there was also room for the Priest and the “we” of 4QMMT. In the Branch Davidian evidence, Ellen White, V. Houteff, Ben Roden, and Lois Roden were acknowledged as authoritative for their time, but Koresh is careful to insist repeatedly that they are subordinate to him and his authority, that they, unlike him, did not have “all the light.” Both groups, unlike the Fourth Gospel, had some room for more than one leader as a locus of authority. John 2:17: ÉEmnÆsyhsan ofl mayhta‹ aÈtoË ˜ti gegramm°non §st¤n, ÑO z∞low toË o‡kou sou katafãgeta¤ me. After 1:23, the next place at which the author himself indicates that he is quoting Scripture is 2:17. The narrator tells us that, in the midst of Jesus’ rage in the temple, the disciples collectively remembered an appropriate verse, Ps 68:10:45 ı z∞low toË o‡kou sou kat°fag°n me. It is interesting to note that 2:16 finds Jesus declaring: “Take these things away; you shall not make my Father’s house a house of trade,” which parallels the Synoptic citation of Isa 56:7 and Jer 7:11 (Mark 11:17 and par.). The Synoptics announce that this is a scriptural quote, but the author of the Fourth Gospel simply puts it in Jesus’ mouth and instead of “my house” speaks of “my Father’s house.” In the next verse the Fourth Gospel author does signify that he is quoting Scripture and then uniquely cites Ps 68:10. In the narrative, the quote shows that Scripture witnessed to Christ; the author subtly accomplishes this by changing the verb from the past tense

45

The reference is to the ; English 69:9;  Ps 69:10: ynIt]l-…k;a} Ú¢t]yyB ta'¢n“qiAyKâ.i

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as it appears in Ps 68:10 to the future, which appears in v. 17. Also on the narrative level, it depicts Jesus’ disciples as scripturally adept. Unlike the Jews who are castigated in ch. 5 for searching the Scriptures but coming up short even though the Scriptures testify to Jesus’ identity, the disciples know the Scriptures, believe them, and therefore believe (pisteÊv) Jesus. 2:17 proves what Jesus declares in 5:46: “If you believed Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote of me.”46 The disciples, therefore, stand in direct contrast with the opponents who are characterized as not believing. The author divides people into two categories: those who believe and those who do not. While pisteÊv appears in most  books,47 it is fair to consider it special Johannine language. It appears ninety-eight times in the Fourth Gospel as opposed to eleven in Matthew, fourteen in Mark, and nine in Luke.48 The verb mimnÆskomai appears twice more in the Fourth Gospel, both times depicting the disciples remembering Scripture as it relates to Jesus. The Cleansing of the temple ends with the narrator informing the reader: ˜te oÔn ±g°ryh §k nekr«n, §mnÆsyhsan o‹ mayhta‹ aÈtoË ˜ti toËto ¶legen, ka‹ §p¤steusan tª grafª ka‹ t“ lÒgƒ ˘n e‰pen ı ÉIhsoËw (2:22). On the narrative level, three things are accomplished. First, the disciples are once again portrayed as knowing Scripture and interpreting events in light of it. Second, it implies that Scripture can only be truly understood after the resurrection. Finally, it puts the word of the Word on par with Scripture. Whereas in 2:17 and 12:16 the disciples remember Scripture, at 2:22 they remember Jesus’ word, which incites their belief in Scripture and Jesus’ word. The final appearance of the word mimnÆskomai occurs in 12:16: taËta oÈk ¶gnvsan aÈtoË o‹ mayhta‹ tÒ pr«ton, éllÉ ˜te §dojãsyh ÉIhsoËw tÒte §mnÆsyhsan ˜ti taËta ∑n §pÉ aÈt“ gegramm°na ka‹ taËta §po¤hsan aÈt“. This comment follows two scriptural texts invoked

in relation to the Triumphal Entry: 46 That Moses is not the author of the Psalms should not trouble the reader insofar as in ch. 10 Jesus quotes a Psalm and refers to it as being in the law, traditionally ascribed to Moses. In the Fourth Gospel, “what is written by Moses,” is shorthand for all of Scripture. 47 With the exception of Colossians, Philemon, 2 Peter, 2 John, 3 John, and Revelation. 48 “Believing” becomes more prominent in Acts, where the word occurs thirtyseven times.

     

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12:12 Tª §paÊrion ı ˆxlow polÁw ı §ly∆n efiw tØn •ortÆn, ékoÊsantew ˜ti ¶rxetai ı ÉIhsoËw efiw ÑIerosÒluma 12:13 ¶labon tå ba˛a t«n foin¤kvn ka‹ §j∞lyon efiw Ípãnthsin aÈt“ ka‹ §kraÊgazon, ÑVsannã: eÈloghm°now ı §rxÒmenow §n ÙnÒmati kur¤ou [ka‹] ı basileÁw toË ÉIsraÆl. 12:14 eÍr∆n d¢ ı ÉIhsoËw Ùnãrion §kãyisen §pÉ aÈtÒ, kay≈w §stin gegramm°non, 12:15 MØ foboË, yugãthr Si≈n: fidoÁ ı basileÊw sou ¶rxetai, kayÆmenow §p‹ p«lon ˆnou.

No indication that it is a quotation accompanies the first citation, but the second notes that Scripture had previously indicated Jesus’ sitting on the young donkey. I will address the second citation later but here want to focus on the fact that for the third time the disciples remember (mimnÆskomai) Scripture. The narrator claims that, at first, the disciples did not understand (gin≈skv) that these Scriptures had been written of Jesus. Only after Jesus’ death and resurrection did they remember. In this way, the disciples stand in stark contrast to “the Jews” who are described already in the Prologue patently as “his own who did not know him (gin≈skv)” and proceed to validate this description throughout the narrative. To know or not to know is a defining character feature in the narrative of the Fourth Gospel, which uses gin≈skv fifty-seven times and o›da eighty-four times; Matthew, Mark, and Luke use gin≈skv twenty, twelve, and twentyeight times, respectively, and o‰da twenty-four, twenty-one, and twentyfive, respectively. So, in addition to showing that Scripture can only be understood post-Easter and that the disciples are “in the know,” so to speak, their recollection implies that the ancient Scripture was written precisely about Jesus. All of this leads to the conclusion that the literary role of Scripture in John 2:17 is fourfold. First, it shows that the disciples are paradigmatic characters because they remember (mimnÆskomai), they understand (gin≈skv, o‰da), and they believe (pisteÊv). Witten’s “centripetal tendency,” or observations on redundancy as it relates to the characters in a narrative, applies once again. The disciples, either as a group or individually, evince the same qualities, goals, actions, means of action, and outcomes of actions throughout the story. Second, the disciples can only remember, understand, and believe Scripture after the glorification, that is, the passion and resurrection of Jesus. There is no understanding and believing Scripture outside of “the Christ Event.” Third, it sets the reader up to evaluate critically and negatively the opponents who are described in opposite terms, by “not understanding” and “not believing.” The author cannot characterize

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the Jewish opponents as “not remembering” Scripture; in fact, at times in the narrative they do remember and quote the Scriptures and even mistakenly attempt to find life in them. At other times, as in 2:17–18, while Jesus’ action triggers the disciples’ memory of Scripture, the opponents show no flicker of recognition but rather they must inquire after Jesus’ authority. Finally, it implies a fulfillmentof-Scripture theme. Adopting Witten’s scheme, the fulfillment-ofScripture motif effects restriction of meaning for the community insofar as an event is redundant with the interpretive commentary. So, the narrator directly connects the cleansing of the temple with Scripture through the memory of the disciples. What, if anything, does it accomplish for the author’s own community? It affirms the community’s/Jesus’/the disciples’ viewpoint and restricts meaning for them. It gives them an elevated status as the ones who have the necessary key truly to understand and believe Scripture, in this case post-Easter faith. Shared assumptions mark a group, and post-Easter faith is a primary shared assumption. The post-Easter faith stance as mediated through the Johannine community and its texts also serves as a strong boundary marker, effecting cultural exclusion. As Wuthnow argues, one element of boundary construction has to do with the presentation of beliefs wherein boundaries are set by making the belief system one not accessible to everyone. This may be done by the group’s claim to maintain unique beliefs while simultaneously not definitively delineating those beliefs. Additionally, the group may pepper its presentation with references to esoteric, historical, philosophical, and theological sources of wisdom. This is similar to the situations at Qumran and Waco, where the key lay in the teachings of the Teacher of Righteousness and the revelations of David Koresh. The opponents of the group, especially the religious establishment as represented by those who were executing the synagogue expulsions, would certainly have used Scripture as traditionally understood to combat the claims and behavior of the Christians who had only lately been among them. But the author’s community should not be discouraged, as they should understand that those opponents are in error regarding Scripture. The passage also situates Jesus as a locus of authority because Scripture cannot be understood apart from him. Finally, it shows that Scripture, what “is written,” is an authoritative source. Moreover, John 2:17 implies that Ps 69:9 was written with Jesus in mind, so that one finds the community assuming that it is the telos of Scripture. As noted ear-

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lier, given a society that has traditionally associated the sacred with certain religious institutions, a congregation can take advantage of that situation by tying itself to such institutions. In producing his own sacred cultural product, the author of the Fourth Gospel augments its sanctity by attaching it to that which is traditionally sacred.

Excursus: 5:31–47 Though ch. 5 contains no direct citations, it is so central to understanding what the author is trying to accomplish by using Scripture that it deserves some attention. In 5:31–47 Jesus attacks the Jews (ofl ÉIouda›oi) because of their attitude toward Scripture. As is usually the case when Jesus comes into conflict with the Jews concerning Scripture, John is careful to set the scene in the temple, the traditional center of Judaism. As has often been noted, the cleansing of the temple episode sets the tone for the whole Gospel’s attitude toward the temple (as well as Jerusalem; cf. ch. 4): the center has shifted to Jesus himself—his body is the new temple. So it is no mistake that John repeatedly sets these confrontations between Jesus and the scriptural traditions in the context of the temple. Jesus charges the Jews with not having God’s Word abiding in them (ka‹ tÚn lÒgon aÈtoË oÈk ¶xete §n Ím›n m°nonta, ˜ti ˘n ép°steilen §ke›now, toÊtƒ Íme›w oÈ pisteÊete). The reader familiar with John knows that every word is saturated with meaning here. The “Word of God” has triple significance; it refers to Jesus, to Jesus’ words (lÒgoi, =Æmata, §ntola¤), and to Scripture. First, it refers to Jesus, the Word made flesh, the Word sent by God. The Jews do not “believe,” which immediately identifies them as outsiders since abiding belief constitutes salvation in this Gospel. Those who do believe abide in Jesus and he in them, and they abide in Jesus’ words and his words abide in them. This point is driven home in the portion of John’s Gospel directed strictly to the disciples, or insiders, who represent John’s community, most notably at 15:1–10: 15:1 ÉEg∆ efimi ≤ émpelow ≤ élhyinÆ, ka‹ ı patÆr mou ı gevrgÒw §stin. 15:2 pçn kl∞ma §n §mo‹ mØ f°ron karpÒn a‡rei aÈtÒ, ka‹ pçn tÚ karpÚn f°ron kaya¤rei aÈtÚ ·na karpÚn ple¤ona f°r˙. 15:3 ≥dh Íme›w kayaro¤ §ste diå tÚn lÒgon ˘n lelãlhka Ím›n: 15:4 me¤nate §n §mo¤,

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kég∆ §n Ím›n. kay∆w tÚ kl∞ma oÈ dÊnatai karpÚn f°rein éfÉ •autoË §ån mØ m°n˙ §n tª émp°lƒ, oÏtvw oÈd¢ Íme›w §ån mØ §n §mo‹ m°nhte. 15:5 §g∆ efimi ≤ êmpelow, Íme›w tå klÆmata. ı m°nvn §n §mo‹ kég∆ §n aÈt“ otow f°rei karpÚn polÊn, ˜ti xvr‹w §moË oÈ dÊnasye poie›n oÈd°n. 15:6 §ån mÆ tiw m°nh §n §mo¤, §blÆyh ¶jv …w tÚ kl∞ma ka› §jhrãnyh ka‹ sunãgousin aÈtå ka‹ efiw tÚ pËr bãllousin ka‹ ka¤etai. 15:7 §ån me¤nhte §n §mo‹ ka‹ tå =Æmatã mou §n Ím›n me¤n˙, ˘ §ån y°lhte afitÆsasye, ka‹ genÆsetai Ím›n. 15:8 §n toÊtƒ §dojãsyh ı patÆr mou, ·na karpÚn polÁn f°rhte ka‹ g°nhsye §mo‹ mayhta¤. 15:9 kay∆w ±gãphs°n me ı patÆr, kég∆ Ímçw ≤gãphsa: me¤nate §n tª égãp˙ tª §m˙. 15:10 §ån tåw §ntolãw mou thrÆshte, mene›te §n tª égãp˙ mou, kay∆w §g∆ tåw §ntolåw toË patrÒw mou tetÆrhka ka‹ m°nv aÈtoË §n tª égãp˙.

Abiding in the words of the Word causes believers to produce good fruit and gives them the right to ask for anything they wish with the assurance it will be granted. Such is not the case for those who do not abide in the Word; rather, they are thrown into the fire and burned. John provides only two categories: those who abide in the words of the Word and therefore bear fruit and receive divine favors, and those who are incinerated. “The Jews” in ch. 5 belong to the latter group. The Jews are shortsighted regarding the word of God. To them “the word of God” refers solely to Scripture as it has been written rather than to Jesus and his words, much as bread from heaven refers to that which Moses gave rather than that which God is presently giving. Scripture operates like the many other traditions and ancestors, which have become dead weight that drags the Jews down and keeps them from putting their belief in the proper place, namely, Jesus. They have their word and the Johannine community has the word of its Word. John sets them next to each other and proceeds to demote Scripture, much as he does with John the Baptist, Moses, et al. They search (§raunãv) the Scriptures (grafa¤) because they consider them the source of eternal life (zvÆ afi≈niow). But John has already shown that the proper paradigm is to seek Jesus, come to him, and receive eternal life. Jesus alone is the source of eternal life. The Jews have mistaken the testifier for the one who is testified to. Scripture merely serves to point to the words of God made known through the Word of God. It is another witness. In v. 42 Jesus pronounces that they do not have the love of God

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in them (tØn égãphn toË yeoË oÈk §xete §n •auto›w). Again the experienced reader (and John’s own community) sees the connection for John between the word of God and the love of God because she has read 15:1–10, which also moves from a discussion about abiding in Jesus and his words to how that amounts to abiding in Jesus’ love. Jesus clinches his argument by saying that these very Scriptures from which they seek life will lead them not into life but into judgment. At the end of the attack John invokes Moses in Moses’ capacity as author of Scripture. 5:38–39 parallels 5:45–46 as follows: 5:38 ka‹ tÚn lÒgon aÈtoË oÈk ¶xete §n Ím›n m°nonta, ˜ti ˘n ép°steilen §ke›now, toÊtƒ Íme›w oÈ pisteÊete. 5:39 §raunçte tåw grafãw, ˜ti Íme›w doke›te §n aÈta›w zvØn afi≈nion ¶xein: ka‹ §ke›na¤ efisin afl marturoËsai per‹ §moË:

5:45b ¶stin ı kathgor«n Ím«n Mv#s∞w, efiw ˘n Íme›w ±lp¤kate. 5:46 efi går §pisteÊete Mv#se›, §pisteÊete ín §mo¤: per‹ går §moË §ke›now ¶gracen. 5:47 efi d¢ to›w §ke¤nou grãmmasin oÈ pisteÊete, p«w to›w §mo›w =Æmasin pisteÊsete; Jesus moves thus: “You do not have God’s word abiding in you because you did not believe me. You should have believed me because you have the Scriptures which Moses wrote. But the fact is that for all of your supposed homage to and respect for Moses, you do not actually believe what he wrote.” And, then, in a qal vehomer climax: “And if you have not even gotten to the point of believing Moses, who is a mere first step (who is your highest authority, the one you trust the most, which obviously is not very much), how are you going to move to the higher ground which is me?” They are liars—they claim to honor Moses but they do not. Just before this, Jesus is pitted against Moses because the Jews have “set their hope” on Moses. As it turns out, Moses becomes just another witness to Jesus and even accuser of the Jews. So it is not Jesus against Moses—it is (a) putting Moses in his proper place and (b) pitting Jews against Jesus via Moses since Moses is a witness to Jesus; because he is a witness to Jesus, he is simultaneously an accuser of those who do not hear Moses’ testimony. So, again, Jesus catches them coming up short because he proves that, in fact, though they

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claim to believe Moses, they actually must not, because if they did it would be “ergo: Jesus”. The very last verse, much like 2:22, shows John setting the words of Jesus above the words which Moses wrote. Jesus’ words must increase; Moses’ must decrease so that they serve as a witness to Jesus, a stepping stone, but not the Final Word. One would like to know what texts John has in mind when he has Jesus say this, but he never cites a specific text. I assume that they include at least all those which John deploys or alludes to in the Fourth Gospel. John 6:31: ofl pat°rew ≤m«n tÚ mãnna ¶fagon §n tª §rÆmƒ, kay≈w §stin gegramm°non, ÖArton §k toË oÈranoË ¶dvken aÈto›w fage›n. The next indication from the author that he is quoting from Scripture comes at 6:31 in the Bread Discourse.49 As previously noted, the scriptural interpretation has been recognized by Peder Borgen and others (including Wayne A. Meeks) as central to the form of this passage. The present task lies in discovering any clues to its social function. 6:1–15 narrates a day near Passover filled with epiphanies of Jesus’ divinity: the miraculous feeding of the five thousand and Jesus’ walking on water. He only narrowly escapes coronation. The next day, the audience that had been left behind by Jesus and his disciples discovers the abandonment, and John rather comically devotes a few verses to getting the crowd reunited with Jesus, no small task since the disciples had taken the only boat. Even this small part of the chapter relates to the Bread from Heaven insofar as a fresh round of boats arrives for the abandoned audience, and at that point the author writes: êlla ∑lyen ploiã[ria] §k Tiberiãdow §ggÁw toË tÒpou ˜pou §fagon tÚn êrton e`ÈxaristÆsantow toË kur¤ou (6:23). The crowd locates Jesus and asks him why he chose to go across the sea, to which he responds by accusing them in terms of the previous day’s feast of bread, ÑAmØn émÁn l‹gv Ím›n, zhte›t° me oÈx ˜ti e‡dete shme›a, éllÉ ˜ti §fãgete §k t«n êrtvn ka‹ §xortãsyhte (6:26), and then turning their attention away from earthly bread to heavenly bread. Jesus then calls them to believe in him, but the crowd wants to know 49 There is much scriptural play going on in this passage. NA26 cites Ps 78.24, but Exod 16 is the more likely source. No one else quotes Ps 78.24, and only 1 Corinthians alludes to the bread of Exod 16.

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what sign Jesus will do to warrant their belief; it would appear that (a) they had forgotten the previous day’s miracle or (b) Jesus was right in his estimation that they had not even comprehended the sign but had simply eaten well (6:26). The crowd then attempts to pit Moses against Jesus, with Moses emerging as the victor since he performed a sign by giving the Jews bread from heaven, whereas, in the crowd’s estimation, Jesus has not only not performed an equal sign with his bread multiplication, he has simply not performed a sign. As Jesus’ Jewish opponents are wont to do in this Gospel, they use Scripture against him: ofl pat°rew ≤m«n tÚ mãnna ¶fagon §n tª §rÆmƒ, kay≈w §stin gegramm°non, ÖArton §k toË oÈranoË ¶dvken aÈto›w fage›n (6:31). Jesus responds in a surprising way, which practically obsoletes Scripture, when he tells the crowd that what really matters is not that God gave bread from heaven, but that God is giving them bread from heaven; what is more, this bread, in comparison with that given in the wilderness, is the “true” bread: oÈ Mv#s∞w d°dvken Ím›n tÚn êrton §k toË oÈranoË, éllÉ ı patÆr mou d¤dvsin Ím›n tÚn êrton §k toË oÈranoË tÚn élhyinÒn:

Most interpreters mention the play in the ambiguity of the third person singular, ¶dvken, so that Jesus changes the subject of the verb from Moses to God. I disagree that the major contrast has to do with the subject of the verb, Moses or God; rather, the contrast is between the obsolete past and the pregnant present.50 The import of 50 Brown, ( John, 232), directly opposes this argument. He notes the contrast in verb tenses, but stresses continuity rather than contrast: “Notice the contrast between the past (aorist of perfect) and the present tense in the final line in v. 32: the Father’s giving has begun and will continue.” Bultmann’s argument ( John, 227–28) stands closer to mine insofar as it emphasizes discontinuity with the past: “The reference to manna is important also, because according to the Jewish belief the coming Messiah, as the ‘second Redeemer,’ must correspond to Moses, the ‘first Redeemer,’ because, that is to say, the miracle of manna must be repeated in the final age. Thus this reference to the manna gives expression to man’s folly in imagining that he knows the signs by which the Redeemer is to be recognised, his folly in imagining that he has criteria at his disposal to which the revelation must conform in order to gain recognition; whereas in fact God’s revelation destroys every picture which man’s desires make of it, so that the real test of man’s desire for salvation is to believe even when God encounters him in a totally different way from that which he expected.” After first translating John’s verbs “back into Hebrew” (a dubious enterprise, perhaps), Peder Borgen allots considerable attention to establishing that 6:31–33 represents “midrashic method, patterns and terminology” (Bread

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the contrast lies in the fact that at 5:39 Jesus accuses the Jews of seeking eternal life in the Scriptures and in doing so failing to attain the eternal life inherent in Jesus. In that passage, just as in the present one, the Jews used Scripture as a defense against Jesus, and in that passage, just as in the present one, Jesus claims that they should turn their eyes from Scripture to him if they want to have eternal life. This interchange is yet another example of Scripture as a hindrance to the Jews’ coming to belief in Jesus. Again, Witten’s observations about the rhetoric of the preacher are relevant. The Jews display the same qualities, the same goals, the same actions, use the same means of actions throughout the narrative. The outcomes of their actions are also almost always the same. The narrator always affirms the impression given by the narrative regarding the Jews. While the character portrait appears to be exaggerated for homiletic purposes, it is not unreasonable to imagine that the exchange reflects that which is occurring in the author’s own community; that is, on the basis of Scripture itself, those from the parent tradition challenge the Johannine Christians and their claims. Moses, as the preeminent prophet and purveyor of divine doings and discourse, is the likeliest figure against whom to pit the Jesus of these Johannine Christians. The author faces the issue directly and shows the community how to work around the Moses problem both here and elsewhere.51 He takes up the comparison and the result, in the words of Wayne Meeks, is this: “Here as in 9:28, the decision has to be made whether to be disciples of Moses or disciples of Jesus. Only the latter receive the ‘real bread,’ the ‘food that remains for eternal life.’”52 The author has used Scripture here, in the mouth of the opponents, as a rhetorical technique to effect inclusion or exclusion. The opponents’ very act of quoting Scripture thus degrades them and shows them to be obtuse as well as recalcitrant in their insistence on adhering to

from Heaven, 67). With respect to the actual significance of the tense changes, Borgen says only this: “The midrashic pattern of contrast makes clear the significance of the tenses of the verbs in v. 32, referring back to a different vocalization of the verb in the Hebrew text (not ˆtn, but ˆtwn). Parallels in the midrash indicate that the preferred vocalization of a participle (ˆtwn, in Greek present tense d¤dvsin) makes the verb refer to eschatological time” (Ibid.). 51 See also John 3:14–15 where Moses was able to grant a bit of mortal life but Jesus grants eternal life. Because this passage is only an allusion and not a direct quote, it does not receive attention in this study. For a thorough treatment of the relationship between Moses and Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, see Meeks, Prophet-King. 52 Meeks, Prophet-King, 92.

     

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Scripture rather than Jesus. This depiction of the Jews furthers the status degradation effect presented in chapter two using John 8. He also uses the opportunity to show Jesus’ special insight regarding Scripture and, in a negative way, to show once again Jesus and only Jesus as the group’s locus of authority. If it is correct to suggest that this exchange reflects polemic between the parent tradition and the Johannine community, then we have evidence of opposition to and from the parent tradition. John 6:45: ¶stin gegramm°non §n to›w profÆtaiw, Ka‹ ¶sontai pãntew didakto‹ yeoË: pçw ı ékoÊsaw parå toË patrÚw ka‹ may∆n ¶rxetai prÚw §m°. This passage represents a significant trump for John’s community in that its members obviously are those designated as “taught by God” who have heard, learned, believed, and gained eternal life. These characteristics are the very ones that the opponents lack: throughout the Fourth Gospel they are described antithetically as those who do not hear, do not understand, do not know, do not believe; they die, vainly seeking eternal life in the Scriptures. It also represents another claim for Jesus’ equality with God. John produces the sacred by tying his community in with that which is traditionally sacred. He also performs what Wuthnow calls “cultural exclusion” by insisting that one must be taught by God, which for him can only be done through Jesus. Before leaving John 6, I want to comment on the possibility of sect-defection that appears to be implied in 6:66. Recall that the scriptural quotation was invoked by the crowd at the beginning of the discourse and served to structure the remaining speech on Jesus’ part. He concludes his peroration with a reference back to that original citation and, just as he did at the opening, he once again takes up their scriptural challenge and simultaneously distances himself from any authority that Scripture might have: otÒw §stin ı êrtow ı §j oÈranoË katabãw, oÈ kay∆w ¶fagon ofl pat°rew ka‹ ép°yanon: ı tr≈gvn toËton tÚn êrton zÆsei efiw tÚn afi«na (6:58). The distance is felt on a number of counts, not least of which is the contrast between what “your fathers”53 and the present consumers eat and gain as a 53

Those textual witnesses that include Ím«n simply make explicit the possessive pronoun implied by the fact that the fathers alluded to here are those introduced on the lips of the opponents at 6:31 as “ofl pat°rew ≤m«n.”

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result. At this point, “many of Jesus’ disciples” (pollo‹ oÔn ékoÊsantew §k t«n mayht«n aÈtou) find themselves questioning what Jesus has said; with customary Johannine irony, the author depicts them in light of the very Moses who served as the cause for the speech by describing their complaining as goggÊzv, a term he uses three times in this passage and which is reminiscent of the wilderness situation.54 As was the case in the Exodus wilderness, manna has been miraculously provided, but rather than effecting belief and understanding in the recipients, the “sign” evokes nothing but murmuring. Similarly, it is easy to overlook the fact that Jesus’ warning not to work for “food that perishes” alludes to the fact that manna spoiled if left overnight (Exod 16:19–20). Further, the complaints that led to the provision of manna are paralleled by the story of craving also for “flesh,” which God supplies in another miracle (Exod 16:12–13; Num 11:31–32). There is a very intricate argument built up in Jesus’ discourse here, a discourse that has many more dimensions when the reader is aware of these allusions. At the very least, the author heavily degrades the opponents by implicitly defining them in terms of Moses’ opponents, much as he explicitly degrades them when he attributes their paternity to the devil. Jesus’ opponents are the antitype to Moses’; both the Davidians and Qumranians use the same technique. Using scriptural images and categories to define the social relationships among the actors in the narrative contributes to the building of that powerful “special vocabulary” that Wuthnow has indicated exists among successful groups.55 Jesus announces that only the elect whom God has chosen can come to him; this declaration overly taxes the patience of “many of his disciples” (pollo‹ [§k] t«n mayht«n aÈtoË) who apostatize upon hearing it. Those who apostatize are degraded as the “not chosen.” 54 The Israelites’ “murmuring” (goggÊzv) in the wilderness begins in Exodus and provides one of the leitmotifs of Numbers. In Numbers, it appears especially in chs. 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 21, and 25. Of particular interest to the present discussion, at 11:1ff. they murmur (goggÊzv) about the manna that God has miraculously provided in the wilderness. In Johannine terms, they remain blind and hostile in the face of a sign from God. God responds to their murmuring with judgment (Num 14:2, 27, 29). goggÊzv appears twenty-seven times in the : five times in Exod, nine times in Num, and once at the beginning of Deut. Its occurrence in Ps 105:25 refers back to the murmuring in the wilderness. Likewise, of its thirteen appearances in the , goggusmÒw occurs five times in Exod 16 and twice in Num 17. 55 Duke also recognizes the scriptural heritage of goggÊzv: “That they still bear the blindness of their fathers to the true Father is clear from the designation of their unbelief as “murmuring” (vss. 41, 43)—a deliberate echo of the murmuring which surrounded the first gift of manna.” Irony, 65.

     

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If we assume that the author does not aim here to show the failure either of Jesus’ 30 .. community or his own ca. 90 .. group, we must ask why he would present such a falling away. One reasonable suggestion is that it reflects his response to the problems of apostasy in his own community, a problem evident and treated in the Branch Davidian and Qumran communities as well. But the author recognizes that rewards are necessary for the sacrifice on the part of the sectarians and therefore he bolsters his group in various ways here. First, unlike the apostates, the committed members will receive eternal life. Second, when a leader loses “many” disciples, how does he or she encourage the others to abide? The leader reminds them that they can be assured they are among “God’s chosen,” as John does. Once again John faces his problem directly; rather than smooth over the defection, he has Jesus confront the remaining disciples: “Do you also wish to go away?” The response of Jesus’ faithful disciples would surely have inspired those faced with the same choice in John’s own community: “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God” (my italics). It pays to stay. As Susan Harding notes: A people gives its church many gifts, of course—sociability, services, creativity, loyalty, prayers, and more—and all of them, insofar as they are free gifts, function, like tithes and offerings, “outside” the market economy, according to noncommercial logic. They generate an invisible world, a “kingdom of the spirit,” in which God is worshiped continuously through all sorts of sacrificial giving and God blesses people with “good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over.56

Sects represent what Swidler has identified as “unsettled lives,” which are characterized by high ideology and demanding, rigid expectations. This ideology and the concomitant expectations conflict with both tradition and common sense, which are represented singularly in the Fourth Gospel by “the Jews.” John 7:38: ı pisteÊvn efiw §m°, kay∆w e‰pen ≤ grafÆ, potamo‹ §k t∞w koil¤aw aÈtoË =eÊsousin Ïdatow z«ntow. To treat 7:38 properly I must attend to nearly the whole of ch. 7. For purposes of analysis, the chapter will be treated in two parts, 7:14–24 and 7:37–52. 56

Harding, “The Gospel,” 53.

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7:14–24 The saying of Jesus at 7:38 provides the climax of the episode that begins with his declaration in 7:14–24. Once again the temple is the setting for conflict regarding Scripture. In ch. 5 Jesus accuses the Jews of searching the Scriptures because they thereby hope to have eternal life. There they never get the opportunity to defend themselves against the charge. Now they do and, as it turns out, they act in complete accordance with Jesus’ prediction about them. This serves at least two purposes for John: (1) it again shows the Jews as fatally mistaken and obdurate (thus, showing John’s own opponents as such), and (2) it shows the power of Jesus’ own words: what he says is true. Only in chs. 5 and 7 does the word grãmma appear. In 5:47 it refers to what Moses wrote. When Jesus goes into the temple and teaches in the middle of the Festival of Booths (7:15) the Jews marvel and ask, P«w otow grãmmata o‰den mØ memayhk≈w; The teaching function is important here as it sets up numerous comparisons. First, it takes the reader back to 5:47 where there is a comparison between what Moses wrote (grãmma) and Jesus’ own words (=∞ma), with more importance being placed on the latter. So, the reader already has that comparison in mind when she arrives at 7:15. And, indeed, John reiterates the distinction and superiority of Jesus’ own words because they come from God: “My teaching (didaxÆ) is not my own but his who sent me,” as opposed to the law which is written (grãfv) by Moses, given (d¤dvmi) by Moses (7:19, 1:17), and is defined as being “of Moses” (Mv#s°vw). On the surface, grãmma has quite different meanings in the two passages, but the initiated Johannine reader is accustomed to John’s penchant for multivalent diction. Second, John deploys his usual irony in this passage to make the opponents look foolish. The Jews claim that Jesus has never been taught (manyãnv; 7:15), but Jesus has just said in 6:45: ¶stin gegramm°non §n to›w profÆtaiw, Ka‹ ¶sontai pãntew didakto‹ yeoË: pçw ı ékoÊsaw parå toË patrÚw ka‹ may∆n ¶rxetai prÚw §m°. The Johannine play on words and irony act to reveal the Pharisees’ lack; Jesus, the authoritative Word, “knows” not only letters, the literal meaning, but also Mosaic writings as the word grãmma means at the only other place it appears. John probably deliberately avoids referring to grafÆ in 5:47. Jesus knows what Moses wrote (grãmma) and not only has he learned from God, but everyone who has been taught by God

     

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(didakto¤; in the narrative, the followers of Jesus; in John’s community, the sectarians themselves) arrives at Jesus and his teachings. They get beyond the law of Moses (though the opponents actually fail even to comprehend the law of Moses). Jesus uses Moses for two different arguments in this passage. First, Jesus indicates that Moses gave them the law and Jesus categorically declares that none of them keeps it. In the second argument, he approaches the matter differently. In a statement that appears to contradict what he has just said, he grants that they do keep the law of circumcision given by Moses and argues that if they follow through with their logic, they will see that if it is proper to attend to a small part of man’s body on the sabbath, then it must be even more proper to attend to the whole body. The net effect is to attack the Jews on all sides, to cover all the bases of attack. None of them keeps the law; but even if they do, they still fall short ultimately. The passage achieves three goals. Primarily, it shows the Jews/John’s opponents as bumbling fools and degrades them emphatically and en masse. Furthermore, it sets the reader up for the supremacy of Jesus’ own teaching that will come especially in chs. 13–17 by showing the law, which Moses gave, to be a human gift as opposed to Jesus’ commandments (§ntolÆ) which are a gift from God. There is no reason one should expect the opponents to be didakto‹ yeoË when they do not even allow themselves to be taught by Moses. If they did, they would have to grant Jesus’ qal vehomer argument regarding circumcision, but instead they try to kill him. Finally, it makes thicker the line between insider and outsider insofar as Jesus deploys distancing pronouns. It is not the case that Moses gave the law “to us” and “you” do not keep it while we really do, but rather Moses gave the law “to you” (Ím›n) and “you” do not follow it. They have Moses; John’s community has Jesus. John is the only Gospel author not to include Deut 6:5 and Lev 19:18. The only binding law is that which Jesus himself lays down.57 The argument deployed here is identical (even with respect to diction) to that which 57 Again, Moses “gave” the law “to you all” ( Jews); the Jews do not “do” the law. The Fourth Gospel expects one to adopt both beliefs and actions. The author contrasts what the Jews “do not do” (poi°v) and what followers of Jesus and Jesus himself “do.” At 5:27 Jesus announces that God grants resurrection of life to those who “do” (poi°v) good, and resurrection of judgment to those who “do” (prãssv) evil. The law is something you do; Scripture is something you believe. Likewise, Jesus demands that his followers “believe” his words and “do” his commandments.

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appears in ch. 10, where Jesus indicates their apparent concern not to break (lÊv) Scripture as here they appear to be concerned about breaking the law. It implies that 10:35 should be seen as a concession, not as a proclamation on Jesus’ part. 7:37–52 Verses 25–36 relate the remaining events of that day. At 7:37 we reach the final part of the chapter, the last day of the Festival of Booths and an important passage for those interested in John’s use of Scripture. The precincts of the temple provide the setting (cf. v. 45). Jesus initiates discussion of the role of Scripture. The passage betrays contrivance insofar as Jesus simply stands up in the temple unprovoked and shouts out (krãzv) that folks should believe in him and invokes Scripture in his outburst. It is only Scripture that ties the passage together, and it is Scripture which John wants to focus on in this passage. The result of the conflict, in typical Johannine style, is a schism (sx¤sma; cf. 7:43; 9:16; 19:24; 21:11) between those who believe and the leaders who take action against Jesus. Jesus’ proclamation results in others expressing their opinions concerning where Scripture fits into this picture. What does this say about John’s own community? It shows that Jesus and his relationship to Scripture constituted a “problem” with respect to both claims about his identity and his actions. This relationship between Jesus and Scripture caused schism among not only the leaders of the parent tradition, but also the ordinary Jew, Greek, and Samaritan represented in the narrative by the people from the ˆxlow. In terms of structure and content, 7:12–13 and 7:40–44 share parallels: 7:12a ka‹ goggusmÚw per‹ aÈtoË ∑n polÁw §n to›w ˆxloiw:

7:12b: ofl m¢n ¶legon ˜ti ÉAgayÒw §stin,

7:12c: êlloi [de] ¶legon, OÎ, éllå planò tÚn ˆxlon.

7.43 sx¤sma oÔn §g°neto §n t“ ˆjlƒ diÉ aÈtÒn: 7:40 ÉEk toË ˆxlou oÔn ékoÊsantew t«n lÒgvn toÊtvn ¶legon, OtÒw §stin élhy«w ı profÆthw: 7:41a: êlloi ¶legon, OtÒw §stin ı XristÒw,

7:41b: Ú d¢ ¶legon, MØ går §k t∞w Galila¤aw ı XristÚw ¶rxetai;

      7:13 oÈde¤w m°ntoi parrhs¤& §lãlei per‹ aÈtoË diå tÚn fÒbon t«n ÉIouda¤vn.

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7.44 tin¢w d¢ ≥yelon §j aÈt«n piãsai aÈtÒn, éllÉ oÈde›w §p°balen §pÉ aÈtÚn tåw xe›raw.

The crowd experiences conflict over Jesus (7:12a, 43a). Some are inclined positively toward him (7:12b, 40) while others speak against him (7:12c, 41b). Trepidation keeps people from acting upon their wishes regarding Jesus (7:13, 44). As indicated above, I am often as struck by what John does not quote as by what he does. John does not beat one over the head with Scripture in the fashion of Matthew—he is at once more subtle and more powerful, even when he works with the “fulfillment” material in the passion narrative. This passage illustrates his skill in wielding Scripture. Surely John has in mind Isa 55:1 (ofl dic«ntew poreÊesye §fÉ Ïdvr ka‹ ˜soi mØ ¶xete érgÊrion bad¤santew égorãsate ka‹ p¤ete êneu érgur¤ou ka‹ tim∞w o‡nou ka‹ st°ar) when he puts the words of 7:37 on Jesus’ lips: ÉEãn tiw dicò §rx°syv prÒw me ka‹ pin°tv. But while he appears to be the only  author (apart from

the author of Revelation, if different) to allude to Isa 55:1, he does not quote it directly. This may surprise the reader given (a) his frequent use of living, flowing water imagery (e.g., the wedding at Cana, Jesus’ side on the cross, the woman at the well, the blind man washing himself ) and (b) his penchant for quoting from Isaiah. This obvious and probably intentional omission highlights the power of John’s allusive technique; John does not aim for one-to-one correspondences, but rather infuses the world of his converts with biblical language and symbol, thereby shaping the very categories and language with which they think. Immediately following, however, he does purport to quote directly but refers to a passage undetectable to the modern who has all the advantages of concordance, computer, and NA26. If this happened only here, one might assign it to accident, but it happens elsewhere as well. John invokes Scripture in a formidable fashion here, introducing the “citation” with a solemn formula: kay∆w e‰pen ≤ grafÆ. Such a move lends authority to John’s own creative urges, corroborates Jesus’ words found in v. 37,58 and explains the validity of the claims of John’s community to have access to the Holy Spirit. There

58 It is no accident that Jesus’ words are presented first and then supported by Scripture rather than Scripture being cited first and Jesus saying, “Therefore. . . .”

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is, as usual, a self-referential quality insofar as the reader is transported back to ch. 3 and the Nicodemus story, where we see water and Spirit linked. Koil¤a appears only elsewhere at 7:38 as it does in ch. 3, namely, in connection with pneËma so that one is born from above, from water and pneËma. The narrator directly informs the reader of the correct interpretation of the citation, no doubt because the interpretation is less than obvious. “These words” (ofl lÒgoi otoi) cause a schism. The members of the crowd are not privy to the narrator’s kindly interpretation about reference to the Spirit, so their reaction has nothing to do with that interpretation. In fact, in terms of the narrative itself, the interpretation is irrelevant and obtrusive. What has made these people voice such high claims regarding Jesus’ identity as prophet or Messiah? First, Jesus expects people to “believe in him” (pisteÊv efiw me—see the many references in John below). As noted above, the Scripture cited in v. 38 must refer to the believer’s heart, given that the word appears elsewhere only in the Nicodemus story. I noted that there would be nothing unusual about such an interpretation because John is so self-referential. John, however, is also the master of double entendre. In order for the ensuing schism to make sense, the “his” of v. 38 should apply to Jesus so that he is seen as explaining why people should believe in him based on Scripture. Indeed, the narrator has already told the reader that all of these words are somehow tied up in Jesus’ death, by which he refers to 19:34. But even those not advantaged by the narrator, namely, the crowd, sense that Jesus is talking about himself, so they argue about his identity rather than what a “believer” must do to drink or believe as Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman wonder. To this cryptic scriptural claim there are at least two responses concerning Jesus’ identity, probably three. The reader already expects this, however, as John prepared her in v. 12: “And there was considerable complaining about him among the crowds. While some were saying, ‘He is a good man’ (cf. v. 40–41a), others were saying, ‘No he is deceiving the crowd’ (41b–42). Yet no one would speak openly about him for fear of the Jews” (cf. v. 44). Some say he is a prophet. Others say he is the Messiah. Interest is momentarily lost in the prophet designation and the Messiah identity explored. Here we once again see John accomplishing two feats at once. First, he ridicules those who are quite caught up in Scripture on the one hand, but, finally, miss the point. They argue over “what Scripture

     

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says” concerning Jesus and “where he is from.” The irony involving the motif of whence Jesus comes has been attended to,59 and what we want to notice presently is John’s determination to rise above such mundane details through that irony. As upon every occasion in which John employs irony, the irony here effects a line between insider and outsider and highly elevates the insider while degrading the outsider. Under the subheading “Irony as Weapon,” Paul Duke explains one of irony’s functions thus: “While Irony has her allurements and richly rewards those who dance with her, she can be positively cruel to her enemies. . . . One of the functions of irony is the making and the mocking of victims. While irony is a witness to those who will see, it is a weapon against those who will not see.”60 With respect to the Fourth Gospel itself, Duke proclaims: “So irony in the Fourth Gospel, with discourse splendidly extraordinary, invites the reader to abide with an ascended Christ and to see from that height what a world that loves darkness will not see.”61 Second, John says something about Scripture here, and this is the main point of vv. 37–44. Note John’s clever way of contrasting Jesus and the crowd in citing Scripture: in vv. 37–38 Jesus tells them what the Scripture said (≤ grafØ e‰pen); at v. 42 we hear some of them pondering what Scripture said (≤ grafØ e‰pen). Jesus declares that Scripture attests to him, and if one believes in Scripture, one should believe in Jesus, whereas vv. 40ff. reveal that such is not the case for the members of the crowd, whose “knowledge” of Scripture obfuscates their view instead. The character referents in this snippet are difficult to identify. Verse 40 identifies one group: ÉEk toË ˆxlou . . . ékoÊsantew . . . ¶legon; v. 41a introduces êlloi who proclaim Jesus as Messiah. The texts vary concerning whether or not a third group enters at 41b, but the evidence strongly favors a third group.62 Presumably it is those of 41b who represent the tinew of v. 44 who want to arrest Jesus. 59

Duke, Irony, 64–69. Ibid., 39–40. Wayne Booth also comments on the dual nature of irony, its creative and destructive powers: “The building of amiable communities is often far more important than the exclusion of naïve victims. Often the predominant emotion when reading stable ironies is that of joining, of finding and communing with kindred spirits. . . . every irony inevitably builds a community of believers even as it excludes.” Wayne Booth, A Rhetoric of Irony (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), 28; quoted in Duke, Irony, 151. 61 Duke, Irony, 1. 62 The appearance of a third group enjoys strong external and internal support. 60

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John can provide details when the intended effect warrants as much. “Nicodemus came by night”; they brought “a hundred pounds of spices”; Peter warmed himself by a “charcoal fire”; the aroma of the perfume filled the air; and so on. So why such ambiguity regarding which Scriptures are being cited by Jesus and those in 41b, and why such vagueness regarding the characters in this episode? The story primarily presents the contention between John’s community and those outside the group who attack the validity of Jesus and John’s community vis-à-vis the . That is incontestable on the general level. We might speculate in further detail and imagine in Martyn-type fashion that the “story” represents the following scenario: a Johannine preacher63 preaches the words of Jesus, including Jesus’ exegesis, and some hearers have taken the first step toward belief as evidenced by their confession of him as prophet or Messiah.64 These potential converts are then confronted by Jews well versed in Scripture (religious authorities, studious neighbors)65 who seek to show that Scripture does not support the claims of the Johannine community at all and, in fact, undermines those claims. The two sides wrestle for possession of Scriptures.66 First, the  evidence includes P66 and a, among others. Formerly, Nestle-Aland included the third group as the preferred reading. Internally, a third group is logical given that the ofl of 41b assume that Jesus is not the Christ while those of 41a declare him to be the Christ. 63 For Martyn’s defense of “doubling” Jesus with an early Christian preacher, see History, 28ff. 64 The Samaritan woman of ch. 4 and the blind man of ch. 9 fit this category. For a full account of Martyn’s interpretation of John 9 as a two-level drama that reflects not only a story that happened “once upon a time” in Jesus’ ministry, but also the contemporary situation of the evangelist’s community, see History, 24ff. 65 The purpose behind naming “religious authorities” and “studious neighbors” lies in indicating that the Johannine community faced opposition not only from “the men in power” (represented in ch. 9 by “the Jews”) but also from their ordinary Jewish neighbors (represented by “the crowd”); both groups could use Scripture against the sect. Martyn identifies the religious authorities as “the Gerousia in John’s city” by which he refers to “the ruling body of Jewish elders in John’s city.” History, 32. Or, asking who the leaders are to whom the formerly blind man is led, Martyn says: “The Pharisees in chapter 9 probably reflect the authority of the Bet Din in Jamnia much more than they reflect an historical ‘Pharisaic Sanhedrin’ of Jesus’ day.” History, 31 n. 29. 66 That the deployment of Scripture in this passage reflects the situation of the Johannine community itself is also suggested by Wayne A. Meeks when he addresses John 7:41–42: “Here the opponents appeal directly to ‘the Scripture’ in asserting that ‘the Christ comes from the seed of David and from Bethlehem . . .’ The simplest explanation for the evangelist’s inclusion of this objection is that it played a role in the polemic between the Jews and the Christian community he represents.”

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John 8:17: ka‹ §n t“ nÒmƒ d¢ t“ Ímet¤rƒ g°graptai ˜ti dÊo ényr≈pvn ≤ martur¤a élhyÆw §stin. This is part of an odd passage. At 8:13 the Pharisees reject Jesus’ testimony regarding himself, declaring the invalidity of a self-testimony. Jesus agrees that he is bearing witness to himself but argues that nevertheless the testimony is true. In 8:17 Jesus quotes to his Jewish opponents out of “their law,” identifying himself and his Father as the two men. Furthermore, Jesus’ statement in 8:14, “Even if I do bear witness to myself, my testimony is true, for I know whence I have come and whither I am going, but you do not know whence I come or whither I am going,” contradicts his own words at 5:31–33: “If I bear witness to myself, my testimony is not true; there is another who bears witness to me, and I know that the testimony which he bears to me is true. You sent to John, and he has borne witness to the truth.” The point at 8:17 is not for Jesus to express his own commitment to Scripture but rather to argue using his opponents’ own terms. By his comment in 8:14 he indicates that he is not beholden to the regulations of Scripture, as he is quite above and beyond its confines due to his unique status as one equal to God. As we shall see throughout the Fourth Gospel, when Jesus engages the Jews in debate, his pattern is to try to move them from their present state of commitment, namely, searching the Scripture in order to have eternal life, to the ultimate teleological commitment, namely, himself and his Father. In such instances, he invokes that which they know and

Prophet-King, 36. Martyn provides detailed exposition of ch. 7 in History. He shows how the Pharisees would have appealed to Torah in legally charging Jesus with leading people astray (pp. 73–81); at the end of this argument, he concludes: In portraying action taken against Jesus on the basis of this charge, John is not dependent on “Jesus-tradition,” but rather primarily on his own experience. In his city the second and awesome step taken by the Jewish authorities (16:2b) was designed not to frighten synagogue members with the threat of excommunication, but rather to stop Jewish-Christians once and for all from missioning among their own people. Do not such missioners persuade others to worship Jesus as a god alongside of God (5:18)? In spite of their having been excommunicated, they are, therefore, in the technical and legal sense, persons who lead the people astray. The law itself warns about them (Deut 13:6ff.) and provides the punishment due them. They are to be legally arrested, tried, and if found guilty, executed (p. 81). Martyn also provides an excursus on planãv (158–60), and an excursus on “John 7:45–52 and Acts 5,” (161–63).

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firmly grant, Scripture, to argue on their own terms. In this particular passage, what is at issue is the validity of Jesus’ testifying to himself. This passage shows redundancy with ch. 5 so that the author has yet another opportunity to degrade the opponents as obtuse and driven by the sinister desire to “catch Jesus out,” especially with regard to Scripture. If there is redundancy in the character of the Jews, so too with Jesus’ character. He is adept and masterful with Scripture and puts it in its proper place. John 10:34: épekr¤yh aÈto›w [ı] ÉIhsoËw: oÈk ¶stin gegramm°non §n t“ nÒmƒ Ím«n ˜ti §g∆ e‡pa: yeo¤ §ste; The next direct quote occurs at 10:34. During the controversy with the Jews who want to stone him, Jesus invokes part of Ps 82 (81):6: §g∆ e‰pa yeo‹ §ste ka‹ uflo‹ Íc¤stou pãntew. The pericope begins at v. 22 and is introduced by an announcement that the following took place during the Festival of Dedication. “The Jews” encircle Jesus (v. 24) and they demand that he frankly (parrhs¤&) tell them whether or not he is the Messiah. Of the thirty-one times parrhs¤a appears in the , nine are in the Fourth Gospel. The English phrase “out in the open” approximates the meaning of the word, so it can have the sense of something done publicly or frankly. Certain motifs recur that would remind a competent reader of the former episode in ch. 7. That chapter begins with the narrator informing the reader that Jesus was avoiding Judea because “the Jews” were trying to kill him. His brothers assume incorrectly that he wants to be out in the open (§n parrhs¤&) so they encourage him to go up to Judea (the very place that the reader knows Jesus is avoiding), particularly Jerusalem, for the Festival of Booths to perform his works rather than remaining in secret (§n krupt“) in Galilee. They further insist: efi taËta poie›w, fan°rvson seautÚn t“ kÒsmƒ, making clear that for them, at least, Jerusalem comprises “the world.” Jesus plays on this by saying, “The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify against it that its works are evil.” That “the world” can be synonymous with “the Jews” is easily proven, and I will offer just one example. In 15:18, Jesus warns his disciples: “If the world hates you be aware that it hated me before it hated you” (v. 18). He goes on to characterize this “world” as “they” who “do not know him who sent me. If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have sin; but now they have no excuse for their sin” (v. 22). As

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noted above, in a number of places in the Fourth Gospel, Jesus speaks to the Jews, meets with disbelief, and then later reminds them of what he had earlier spoken (e‰pon). In addition, Jesus’ comment about their sin takes the reader back to ch. 9, where an intense controversy between the Jews and the healed man (not to mention between the parents of the man, as well as among “the Jews” themselves) ensues after the healing. At the end of the incident, Jesus uses the same language that he uses in 15:22, when he says to the Pharisees: “If you were blind you would not have sin, but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains” (9:41).67 The “centripetal tendency” in the Fourth Gospel is strong. Jesus rejects his brothers’ suggestion and remains in Galilee (v. 9), but just until they leave. Then he does, in fact, go up to Jerusalem, not publicly (faner«w) as they had urged but in secret (§n krupt“). While there, “the Jews” seek him out and disagree over him, but the author indicates that even these people did not speak openly (parrhs¤&, 7:13) for fear of “the Jews.”68 But in ch. 10 Jesus comes out into the open, ironically, teaching “the Jews” not only in “the temple” but specifically in the portico of Solomon, that great Wisdom figure. Everything Jesus says in response to their exhortation to openness he has said to them already, as Jesus himself notes (10:25). Regarding his works, they need only remember the controversy over his healing the man ill for thirty-eighty years and the ensuing discussion (esp. 5:17–18 and 5:36); regarding his sheep, they need only recall the recent controversy over Jesus as the good shepherd (10:1–21); regarding Jesus’ unity with the Father, they may once again recall the controversy of ch. 5.69 Just as in ch. 5, “the Jews” attempt to kill Jesus. He stalls the attack by patronizingly asking which good work from the Father has inspired the attack? Just as in ch. 5, they

67 Bultmann contends: “The term ofl ÉIouda›oi, characteristic of the Evangelist, gives an overall portrayal of the Jews, viewed from the standpoint of Christian faith, as the representatives of unbelief (and thereby, as will appear, of the unbelieving ‘world’ in general).” John, 86. 68 This passage attests to the author’s somewhat inconsistent use of groups as single characters. “The Jews” look for Jesus, but “the crowds” (presumably Jewish crowds) argue over him (7:12) and operate in fear of “the Jews” (7:13). At 7:43 “the crowd” again appears divided over Jesus. At 9:16 it is “the Pharisees” who are divided over him, and at 10:19 it is “the Jews.” 69 The reader, of course, knows of this unity from the start, John 1:1.

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miss the point that the works and the unity with the Father are inseparable and claim that it is not the good works that have incited them (of course the reader of chs. 5, 9, and 11 knows that this comment is patently untrue), but his blasphemy. There is further repartee from Jesus in which he invokes part of Ps 82 (81):6, which he claims comes from “your law” (OÈk ¶stin gegramm°non §n t“ nÒmƒ Ím«n):70 “I said, ‘You are gods.’” “Even stronger is the heightening of the initially innocuous claim in John, for there the form of the argument is explicitly a fortiori: ‘If [Scripture] calls those yeo¤ to whom the Word of God came . . . are you saying that I blaspheme because I said that I am God’s son—I whom the Father consecrated and sent into the world as his envoy?’ (vv. 35–36).”71 There are three other subtle moves going on at the narrative level in this scriptural exchange. First, the rest of the line of Ps 82 (81):6 which remains unquoted, but perhaps assumed, is (¶ste) uflo‹ Íc¤stou, and it approximates Jesus’ own claim for himself as a uiÚw toË yeoË. Second, the exchange further validates the claim initially made in the Prologue, namely, the Word (lÒgow) efiw tå ‡dia ∑lyen, ka‹ ofl ‡dioi aÈtÚn oÈ par°labon. If these “Jews” who are contesting Jesus were not blind, surely they would see the irony at play in Jesus’ characterizing the psalm as being spoken to §ke¤nouw . . . prÚw oÓw ı lÒgow to# yeoË §g°neto; that is, they are ofl ‡dioi. Third, the clause ka‹ oÈ dÊnatai luy∞nai ≤ grafÆ has traditionally been translated as an aside on the part of Jesus, but there is no reason to do so. Rather, the proposition that Scripture cannot be broken is not a proclamation by Jesus but simply a second protasis of a conditional clause.72

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Both the “your” and the “law” call for explanation. Regarding the former, there is a textual variant that omits the troubling Ím«n, but given its attestation at 8:17, and the likelihood that the possessive makes the more difficult reading, the possessive remains. Regarding the latter, it appears that for first-century Christians and Jews, the term nÒmow had a larger application than the Pentateuch. 71 Meeks, “Equal to God,” 314. One might argue contrary to Meeks’s proposal. That is, one might expect Jesus to argue via a fortiori here: “If those to whom the word of God came were called ‘gods’ how much more so the Word of God himself.” But the author does not play on lÒgow in that way here. Instead, he argues from the greater to the lesser, using Scripture deftly to make them look the fool. That is, he argues that if the psalmist is to be trusted (and, a priori, for them he is) when he records either God or himself calling those to whom the word of God came “gods” then surely Jesus’ simply calling himself a “child of God” should cause no offense (emphasis added). 72 In personal correspondence, dated November 15, 1996, Victor Bers, Professor of Classics, Yale University, wrote: “Now, as I read the sentence, it seems to me

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This argument is substantiated by reference to 7:23 where, again, the reference to the breaking (lÊv) of the law of Moses is provided as the protasis of a condition. If, as is obviously the case, both conditions A and B are true, then it follows that a human person can innocuously be called yeÒw (or an equivalent, i.e., uflÚw yeoË), especially if that person was also loved by God and sent as God’s envoy into the world. It appears that the common translation has been influenced by Matthew where, in fact, Jesus does proclaim that Scripture cannot be broken. But John is not Matthew. The controversy concludes, as usual, with Jesus having the last word, and just as in ch. 5, he proclaims his unity with the Father, which incites “the Jews” to arrest him. After reading this controversy story, the Johannine Christian has every reason to feel superior to her synagogue-Jew opponent who claims that confession of Jesus is erroneous, even blasphemous and deserving of death. The deployment of Scripture here further delineates the camps, and the opponents of the sect are identified and degraded as those who do not even understand their own law, surely the deepest of insults for a Jew. That explains the force of the possessive, Ím«n, which has troubled various translators needlessly. It is used for ironic purposes to degrade the opponent. It also demonstrates that the group’s founder, Jesus, has special insight regarding Scripture; unlike the opponents who believe themselves to be acting in accordance with “their” law by stoning Jesus, Jesus truly knows Scripture. The Johannine Christians, as confessors of Jesus, are defined and elevated here, as elsewhere, as those who believe Jesus, believe his works (cf. 2:11), and know and understand that “the Father is in me and I am in the Father.” The use of irony on Jesus’ part in

that there is no way to be sure whether the second clause is parenthetical or not. My intuition, though, is that it is parallel to the first. In general, classical Greek does not require, and in fact avoids, repetition of elements in a second clause that can be easily supplied from the first, hence it’s natural that there isn’t a second efi to introduce oÈ dÊnatai. Moreover, both verbs are indicative, with no indication by the particle én that we have a contrary-to-fact condition; and the difference in tense is required by the logic, i.e., a past tense since the calling happened in the past, and a present for a permanent truth about Scripture. My guess is that if the author wanted to indicate an unmistakable difference in the status of the two clauses, he could have done so. One way would be to postpone the oÈ dÊnatai clause so that it would stand after the (rhetorical) question; or even clearer, to postpone it and add a gãr after the oÈ. Then Jesus would be saying, first, that Scripture says thus and so, and then that he himself was applying a principle.”

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the narrative effects inclusion and exclusion. The insiders are those who “get” both the play on Scripture that leaves the opponents speechless and the play on the language concerning “those to whom the Word of God came;” those who do not understand are outsiders. The passage reveals Jesus as the locus of authority. If Scripture is presented as a locus of authority for the Johannine Christians, it is done in a manner less obvious than the fulfillment quotations or a passage like 1:23, where John the Baptist identifies himself by the invocation of Scripture. At the narrative level, Jesus seems to employ Scripture merely to cast Scripture back into the faces of the opponents, fighting fire with fire, so to speak. The opponents intend to obey their law, which requires stoning for blasphemy, so in that sense, they themselves bring up the issue of Scripture. This inspires Jesus to best them. He shows that these “Jews” of the parent tradition who accuse Jesus of breaking Scripture have broken it themselves by attempting to stone him unjustifiably. It also manifests the author’s continual effort toward status degradation with respect to the parent tradition. They are murderers, liars, etc., and in depicting them as such, he further augments the myth of the opponents as “totally other.” It is tempting to register this as evidence for degrading those who break Scripture. That category raises an interesting point with respect to the Fourth Gospel: unlike the authors of the Qumran material, Jesus does not care, from a halakic viewpoint, if the opponents break Scripture; he himself takes no pains to observe it. Rather, he uses their breaking Scripture simply as a way to lampoon them on their own terms. They are supposedly concerned with obeying Scripture, but they fail to maintain consistency. Finally, Jesus’ use of the word Ím«n serves as a stark boundary marker indicating here those who are entrenched in “settled lives” and unwilling to sacrifice the rewards inherent in a settled life.73 73 A note on ethics. This passage in ch. 10 draws heavily upon Ps 82 (81):6. Not only does Jesus directly quote it, but also he appears to draw upon it in his claim to be a son of God, as noted above. But there is additional interesting play. Jesus’ invocation of the psalm is somewhat misleading; he presents God as calling the mere listeners “gods,” but in the psalm itself, God proclaims that only to deflate by contrast those listeners by saying, “nevertheless, you shall die like mortals, and fall like any prince” (v. 7). Just before those declarations of God, the psalmist complains: “They have neither knowledge nor understanding, they walk around in darkness” (v. 5a–b). Knowledge (gn«siw and its cognates) is a favorite word and theme for the author of the Fourth Gospel, and, in fact, in response to the “Jews” in ch. 10 he remarks: “But if I do them . . . believe the works, so that you may believe

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John 12:12–15: Tª §paÊrion ı ˆxlow polÁw ı §ly∆n efiw tØn •ortÆn, ékoÊsantew ˜ti §rxetai ı ÉIhsoËw efiwÉ ÑIerosÒluma 12.13 ¶labon tå ba˝a t«n foin¤kvn ka‹ §j∞lyon efiw Ípãnthsin aÈt“ ka‹ §kraÊgazon, ÑVsannã: eÈloghm°now ı §rxÒmenow §n ÙnÒmati kur¤ou, [ka‹] ı basileÁw toË ÉIsraÆl. 12.14 eÍr∆n d¢ ı ÉIhsoËw Ùnãrion §kayisen §pÉ aÈtÒ, kay«w §stin gegramm°non, 12.15 MØ foboË, yugãthr Si≈n: fidoÁ ı basileÊw sou ¶rxetai, kayÆmenow §p‹ p«lon ˆnou. The next place in which the author indicates that he is directly quoting Scripture appears at 12:13–15. The author himself does not immediately indicate that the material in v. 13 is to be found in Scripture, and indeed it appears to draw from at least two texts. The first part, eÈloghm°now ı §rxÒmenow §n ÙnÒmati kur¤ou, comes from Ps 118 (117):26 and appears also in Mark, Matthew, and, with modification, in Luke. The phrase ı basileÁw toË ÉIsraÆl appears nowhere in Scripture, but Zeph 3:1574 does contain the phrase basileÁw ÉIsraÆl.75 The argument for inclusion of v. 13 as a direct quote must depend on the taËta found in the authorial note, which informs the reader that taËta oÈk ¶gnvsan aÈtoË ofl mayhta‹ tÚ pr«ton, éllÉ ˜te §dojãsyh ÉIhsoËw tÒte §mnÆsyhsan ˜ti taËta ∑n §pÉ aÈt“ gegramm°na ka‹ taËta §po¤hsan aÈt“ (12.16).

and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father” (v. 38; whereas both the psalmist and Fourth Gospel author use gin≈skv for the first word, the psalmist uses sun¤hmi where the evangelist uses gin≈skv again for the second word). The psalmist goes on to criticize the people for walking in darkness, skot¤a, another favorite Johannine term. (Of the sixteen occurrences of the word in the , eight occur in the Fourth Gospel and six in 1 John.) Could it be that Ps 82 (81) was a signature Scripture for the Johannine Christians? If so, might we not expect the ethics therein to be presumed by the group? If this is the case, the ethics delineated there include judging justly (kr¤siw and its cognates being favorite Johannine terms), not showing partiality to the wicked, giving justice to the weak and the orphan, maintaining the right of the lowly and the destitute, and rescuing the weak and the needy. Or does a different ethic apply for sectarians such that they do not care for anyone outside the group? In other words, the traditional Jewish ethic may have been turned on its head such that the ethics of the Psalms do not apply and are replaced by “love one another.” Both Matt and Luke worry about the lowly, the poor, etc., terms missing from the Fourth Gospel. 74 NA26 provides an italicized reference to Zeph 3:15 in the text, indicating the conviction that the author quotes that Scripture; however, the reference is not included in the appendix. 75 Meeks observes: “The Scripture quotation in John 12.15 differs from Matthew as well as from all known text traditions of both Hebrew and Greek Old Testaments. The coincidence that both Matthew and John quote the Zechariah passage is therefore best explained by positing a common tradition at some point behind both,

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At 12:15 the author clearly signifies that he draws directly from Scripture by using the introductory formula, kay«w §stin gegramm°non, but then offers a quotation found nowhere in Scripture. Parts of the quotation are reminiscent of Scripture, and scholars have offered various suggestions. NA26 lists Zech 9:9, Isa 35:4, and Isa 40:9.76 The center of the quotation is a paraphrase or variant of Zech 9:9. xa›re sfÒdra becomes mØ foboË, a common biblical phrase.77 The references which NA26 gives, Isa 35:4 and 40:9, have second person plural imperatives. While the context of the second may apply somewhat to the location in John, it is more reasonable to assume that the Genesis and Deuteronomy references are alluded to, given the epiphanic nature of the Gospel’s christology, given the idea of God’s movement with the people, and given the Fourth Gospel’s penchant for making Jesus a Mosaic figure. Most likely, the author has more than one text in mind, though it is difficult to see how Isa 35:4, as suggested by NA26, should be considered among them. The next part of the “quotation,” yÊgathr Si≈n . . . ¶rxetai, appears to come from Zech 9:9, though the author may have other texts in mind as well.78 The last part also appears to stem from Zech 9:9 but has some variation of it. The  text reads: §pibebhk∆w §p‹ ÍpozÊgion ka‹ p«lon n°on. How to account for the difference is debatable. Perhaps the author is (mis)quoting from memory or perhaps he is working from an alternative text of the  passage.

which in turn reinforces the conclusion that the Zechariah passage shaped the tradition of the entry at its earliest stages. . . . The title is motivated by the confluence of the fourth evangelist’s theological concerns with the royal implications of the whole scene, especially the quotation from Zechariah itself.” Prophet-King, 86. 76 To be more precise, NA26 lists Isa 40:9 in the margin but not in the appendix. 77 It appears forty-two times in the . In Gen it is spoken by God or an angel of God (Gen 15:1; 21:17; 26:24; 28:13; 46:3); the  rendition of 28:13 includes mØ foboË whereas BHS does not). Moses says it twice in Deut 31:6: mØ foboË mhd¢ deil¤a mhd¢ ptohyªw épÚ pros≈pou aÈt«n, ˜ti kÊriow ı yeÒw sou ı proporeuÒmenow meyÉ Ím«n, and 31:8: ka‹ kÊriow ı sumporeuÒmenow metå soË oÈk énÆsei se oÈd¢ mØ §gkatal¤p˙ se: mØ foboË mhd¢ deil¤a. 78 For instance, one might hear echoes of Isa 62:11, given that passage’s interest in proclaiming salvation to daughter Zion. Likewise, Zech 2:14 () is a good candidate since in it God proclaims to come (¶rxetai) and dwell (kataskhnÒv, cf. John 1:14) with daughter Zion (yÊgater Si≈n). Yet another possibility is Zeph 3:14–15 where daughter Zion is to rejoice because the “king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst.” The language of “king of Israel” and “in your midst” is Johannine. Or it may reflect Mic 4:8–9 where daughter Zion is questioned as to the cause of her crying aloud: mØ basileÁw oÈk ∑n soi.

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Unlike John, Matthew has Jesus direct the disciples to procure a donkey and a colt for Jesus and then explains: ToËto d¢ g°gonen ·na plhrvyª tÚ =hy¢n diå toË profÆtou l°gontow, E‡pate tª yugatr‹ Si≈n: ÉIdoÁ ı basileÊw sou ¶rxeta¤ soi pra#w ka‹ §pibebhk∆w §p‹ ˆnon ka‹ §p¤ p«lon uflÚn Ípozug¤ou (21:4–5). Matthew then has the crowds

shout, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” but does not indicate that this was to fulfill Scripture. On the other hand, John has Jesus get his own single young donkey and indicates that both the crowd shouting and the securing of the donkey (taËta as opposed to Matthew’s toËto) reflects material recorded in Scripture. But beyond these superficial differences, there is an even more striking and significant one; that is, whereas Matthew narrates the occurrence of the events in a chronological fashion and promptly proceeds with the story, John uses the scriptural citations as an opportunity to elevate Jesus, elevate the disciples, and indicate that the true understanding of Scripture is enjoyed only by those who understand Jesus’ glorification. The disciples’ original lack of understanding is swept away presumably at some point after the Gospel narrative itself ends, and they “remember” that these particular Scriptures actually applied to Jesus all along. Recall that the same thing occurred with reference to the cleansing of the temple in ch. 2. Only John places the disciples in this position of “remembering” that amounts to revelation. Likewise, the author maintains that such knowledge is dependent upon Jesus’ “glorification,” or death and resurrection, and, therefore, belongs only to the Christian. What does this do for the community that used this text? First, it designates Scripture as a locus of authority. Theoretically, John could have told the story without reference to Scripture. For example, both Matthew and Luke mark the inauguration of Jesus’ ministry with quotations from Isa 9 and 61, respectively; John does not. This is an important point: we must resist the temptation to casually skim over John’s use of Scripture by saying, “Well, those scriptural passages are just part of his received tradition and John does not really have a choice as to whether or how he uses it.” To the contrary, often John draws upon Scriptures that appear nowhere else in the Gospels or even the ; at other times, he uses the same scriptural passage that appears in other  texts but places it elsewhere in his narrative; finally, some scriptural passages that appear in all of the other Gospels and some other  texts are not present in John. John’s inclusion of Scripture in the story of the triumphal

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entry implies that Scripture, “what is written,” matters a great deal to the story. This is an example of the persistence of tradition; in unsettled lives such as sects, the sectarians will still think in traditional patterns to some degree. The passage also serves as one more way for the preacher to shape authoritatively the worldview of the listener, by having both Scripture and the narrator’s interpretive commentary confirm that the event was in keeping with what Scripture had foretold. The passage also functions to elevate Jesus insofar as he is the one about whom it was written. Scripture signifies Jesus, and his ministry and glorification are in accordance with it, despite the accusations contrariwise probably being made against the Johannine Christians. Not only does Scripture serve that function, but the quote about the donkey also allows the author to clarify that Jesus fulfilled the Scripture without assistance. This deployment of Scripture also sets up an impermeable boundary, with the Johannine Christians on the inside and their opponents on the outside. The Johannine Christians are those whose (collective) memory is jogged on the basis of Jesus’ glorification, and the opponents are those who do not believe or understand Jesus’ glorification and, therefore, cannot hope to understand that “these things were written of him” (12:16) and, in Jesus’ own words, “testify on my behalf ” (5:39). The passage illustrates cultural exclusion in action. Beliefs are presented but in such a way that the belief system is not readily accessible to everyone. The exclusion may be facilitated both by the group’s claiming to maintain unique beliefs while simultaneously not definitively delineating those beliefs and by peppering their presentation with reference to esoteric, historical, philosophical, and theological sources of wisdom. In the process, a boundary is drawn between insider and outsider. Here, as in ch. 2, the “insider” is the one who receives revelation through remembrance which occurs only after Easter. In a subtle way the passage grounds the community in the hoary past because it claims that what was written long ago actually referred to the Jesus in whom the group believes. With Scripture, John has a built-in tool, a “chunk of culture” that facilitates certain patterns of action such as formation and maintenance of a sectarian lifestyle and worldview. After all, he is competing with the parent tradition for followers; what better tool than its own Scriptures?

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John 12:37–41: TosaËta d¢ aÈtoË shme›a pepoihkÒtow ¶mprosyen aÈt«n oÈk §p¤steuon efiw aÈtÒn, 12.38 ·na Ù lÒgow ÉHs˛ou toË profÆtou plhrvyª ˘n e‰pen, KÊrie, t¤w §p¤steusen tª ékoª ≤m«n; ka‹ ı brax¤vn kur¤ou t¤ni épekalÊfyh; 12.39 diå toËto oÈk ±dÊnanto pisteÊein, ˜ti pãlin e‰pen ÉHs˛ou 12.40 TetÊflvken aÈt«n toÁw ÙfyalmoÁw ka‹ §p≈rvsen aÈt«n tØn kard¤an, ·na mØ ‡dvsin to›w Ùfyalmo›w ka‹ noÆsvsin tª kard¤& ka‹ straf«sin, ka‹ fiãsomai aÈtoËw. 12.41 taËta e‰pen ÉHs˛ou ˜ti e‰den tØn dÒjan aÈtoË, ka‹ §lãlhsen per‹ aÈtoË. This is the next place that the author himself denotes a scriptural quotation.79 The narrator intrudes here to explain the apparent resistibility of Jesus’ message on the part of “the crowd” (ı ˆxlÙw). As a character in the narrative, the crowd is difficult to define precisely.80 At 12:34 the crowd initiates a conversation on Jesus’ messiahship. He responds by exhorting them to “believe” (v. 36). It is the crowd then, which is logically indicated by the third person plural language in the passage that follows. This passage indicates that the crowd did not believe in Jesus (TosaËta d¢ aÈtoË shme›a pepoihkÒtow ¶mprosyen aÈt«n oÈk §p¤steuon efiw aÈtÒn), which contradicts 7:31 (ÉEk toË ˆxlou d¢ pollo‹ §p¤steusan efiw aÈtÒn) and 7:40f. (ÉEk toË ˆxlou oÔn ékoÊsantew t«n lÒgvn toÊtvn ¶legon, OtÒw §stin élhy«w ı profÆthw: êlloi ¶legon, OtÒw §stin ı XristÒw). Their stance vis-àvis Jesus is not the only perplexing issue; one also wonders who comprises this “crowd.” In 12:9 they are presented as Jews ([ı] ˆxlow polÁw §k t«n ÉIouda¤vn) and the present passage contributes to such a characterization by saying, ˜mvw m°ntoi ka‹ §k t«n érxÒntvn pollo‹ §p¤steusan efiw aÈtÒn, éllå diå toÁw Farisa¤ouw oÈx …molÒgoun ·na mØ éposunãgvgoi g°nvntai. All of these “characters,” that is, the crowd, the authorities, and even the Pharisees, have been characterized in earlier chapters as suffering divisions among themselves on account of Jesus’ identity and validity.81 The author seems to collapse the groups so that there is overlap among the crowd, the Jews, the Pharisees, and the authorities. The author displays ambivalence

79 NA26 lists 12:27 as the next direct quote, but the author himself does not indicate this. 80 See Culpepper’s treatment of the crowd in Anatomy, especially pp. 131–132. 81 The crowd at 7:43, the Pharisees at 9:16, the “Jews” at 10:19, and the authorities, especially represented by Nicodemus, at 7:45–52.

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toward those from the group who believe. As noted above, he can characterize these people as “believing,” but then go on to exclude them categorically from the group of believers (e.g., at 12:37 he does not say that “some” did not believe, but rather simply that “they” did not believe), only to claim a few verses later that “many, even of the authorities believed in him” (v. 42), but ultimately reveals disappointment with them by qualifying that belief thus: éllå diå toÁw Farisa¤ouw oÈx …molÒgoun ·na mØ éposunãgvgoi g°nvntai (v. 42b).82 The progression from initial belief to hostility occurs also in chs. 6 and 8 and probably indicates the trouble the sect had with defectors. Before we leave the crowd, it should be noted that, in typical Johannine fashion, “the crowd” serves as yet another witness (§martÊrei oÔn ı ˆxlow, 12:17) to Jesus. It might strike the reader of the Fourth Gospel as odd that Jesus’ message could, in fact, remain resistible. Twice Jesus seems to indicate that he expects the crowd to believe. In a prayer delivered to his Father just before he raises Lazarus, Jesus thanks his Father for having heard him. He declares: §g∆ d¢ ædein ˜ti pãntot° mou ékoÊeiw, éllå diå tÚn ˆxlon tÚn periest«ta e‰pon, ·na pisteÊsvsin ˜ti sÊ me ép°steilaw (11:42). Again, in 12:36 Jesus exhorts the crowd: …w tÚ f«w ¶xete, pisteÊete efiw tÚ f«w, ·na uflo‹ fvtÚw g°nhsye. Immediately after that (12:37) the author informs the reader that, in fact, “they” did not believe in him. For him who “knew what was in everyone,” this is a strange predicament in which to find himself. The author makes some attempt to account for Jesus’ resistibility by claiming that “the word spoken by the prophet Isaiah” was thus “fulfilled” by the unbelief of the crowd which Jesus had just evangelized. So strongly does the author want to make this point that he immediately repeats his argument but draws upon a different scriptural text the second time. He says, “For this reason they could not believe (oÈk ±dÊnanto), because Isaiah also said, ‘He has blinded their eyes and hardened their heart so that they might not look with their eyes, and understand with their heart and turn—and I would heal them’” (12:40). Moreover, the motif appears already in 2:23–25 and is illustrated by Nicodemus in ch. 3.

82 Raymond Brown argues that these “crypto-Christians” remain outsiders in the eyes of the Johannine community. Raymond Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (New York: Paulist, 1979), 89.

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Why does John reiterate this point so emphatically? As previously noted, it is not enough to imagine compulsion on the author’s part since his work seems to argue against such a simple explanation. The question of Jesus’ resistibility probably arose either from the Johannine community itself, seeking to understand how God’s message could remain uncompelling for so many of their contemporaries, or the question was put to them by their Jewish contemporaries in the form, “If this person was who you say he was, then why does the majority of your Jewish brothers and sisters remain unconvinced?” Most likely the “answer” given bolstered the insiders and offered an apology regarding outsiders. Two observations lead me to suspect that social reality drove this apology. First, the Synoptics nowhere use Isa 53:1. In fact, the only other occurrence of the text appears in Rom 10:16 (and then only the first part of Isa 53:1) where Paul explicitly addresses the very question I imagine the Johannine sect to have asked or have been asked, namely, how to explain the unbelief of the majority of Jews. Paul writes, “But not all have obeyed the good news; for Isaiah says, ‘Lord who has believed our message?’” Paul then explains that the Jews’ disbelief serves a definite and intentional function in God’s salvific plan. So, the only other appearance of the text occurs in a situation much like the one I imagine for John 12:38ff. Furthermore, the second text that John quotes, Isa 6:10, is used differently in the Synoptics. There it is always used to explain the obscurity of Jesus’ parables. John, who includes no parables, groups this text with Isa 53:1 to explain the disbelief of those whom the Johannine community would have expected to have believed. If my explanation for the inclusion of these scriptural texts is accurate, it becomes easy to imagine the functions served for the sect. First, the authority of Scripture as well as the contention that Scripture refers to the evangelist’s contemporary community is affirmed; the author claims that because (˜ti) Isaiah said so, the crowd could not believe. (Matthew places more blame on Jesus’ audience, stating that they simply “did not” perceive, listen, or understand, unlike John’s crowd who “could not” believe.) Scripture is clearly a locus of authority for the group. Second, the author of the Fourth Gospel not only quotes Isaiah, but he even explains why the prophet was moved to say such a thing in the first place: ˜ti e‰den tØn dÒjan aÈtoË, ka‹ §lãlhsen per‹ aÈtoË. The author shows that hoary Scripture actually applies and finds its telos in Jesus. Third, this use of Scripture

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may be characterized as a rhetorical technique that validates the experience of the community and draws clear boundaries between insiders and outsiders. That is, there are those, indeed the majority, who have not joined the group. Why not? The answer, according to John and Paul: “Do not be troubled, all is going according to plan, as you can see by referring to Scripture.” This passage provides a good example of Garfinkel’s phenomenology of degradation rituals. The opponents are different in essence; they are those who are “not chosen.” A successful sect must offer heavy rewards to balance the sacrifices made by its members. The second scriptural quote implies a reward for the sectarians, namely, “healing”: ka‹ fiãsomai aÈtoÊw. The association between healing, salvation, and sin, especially the sin of faithlessness, is heavily attested in the  and is assumed by some  authors as well. It is a particularly favorite metaphor of the psalmist and the prophets, and applies both to individuals and to collective Israel. In Ps 40:5 (41:4), the author entreats God: KÊrie §l°hsÒn me: ‡asai tØn cujÆn mou, ˜ti ¥martÒn soi.83 The prophets, especially Jeremiah and Isaiah, frequently use this language. After proclaiming Israel’s faithlessness, God says, §pistrãfhte, uflo‹ §pistr°fontew, ka‹ fiãsomai tå suntr¤mmata Ím«n ( Jer 3:22). Later Jeremiah implores God: ‡asa¤ me, kÊrie, ka‹ fiayÆsomai: s«sÒn me, ka‹ svyÆsomai (17:14).84 Isaiah, from whom the author has taken both quotations in this passage, demonstrates an inseparable link between healing and salvation from sin. Isa 53:5 can speak of a certain salvific figure thus: aÈtÚw d¢ §traumat¤syh diå tåw énom¤aw ≤m«n ka‹ memalãkistai diå tåw èmart¤aw ≤m«n: paide¤a efirÆnhw ≤m«n §pÉ aÈtÒn, t“ m≈lvpi aÈtoË ≤me›w fiãyhmen. Isa 61:1, which serves a programmatic function at the inauguration of Jesus’ ministry in Luke, announces: pneËma kur¤ou §pÉ §meÄ, o e·neken ¶xris°n me: eÈaggel¤sasyai ptvxo›w ép°stalk°n me, fiãsasyai toÁw suntetrimm°nouw tª kard¤&, khrÊjai afixmal≈toiw êfesin ka‹ tuflo›w énãblecin. The author of the Fourth Gospel has adopted Isaiah’s vision of God as one who “hardens hearts” and one who “heals hearts.” The quote from Isa 6:10 is the first mention of heart (kard¤a) in the Fourth Gospel. As previously noted, that Scripture citation helps 83 Cf. Ps 102 (103):2–3: eÈlÒgei ≤ cuxÆ mou tÚn kÊrion ka‹ mØ §pilanyãnou pãsaw tåw éntapodÒseiw aÈtoË: tÚn eÈilateÊonta pãsaiw ta›w énom¤aiw sou, tÚn fi≈menon pãsaw tåw nÒsouw sou. 84

Cf. also Lam 2:13; Hos 6:1; 14:5.

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to explain the resistibility of Jesus’ message and implies reward for the faithful sectarians. If the sectarians are to identify themselves with the disciples in the narrative, then the reward implied in the present passage becomes clearer in the succeeding narrative. Kard¤a is first mentioned at 12:40 as part of the quote. After that it occurs five more times, always with reference to Jesus’ disciples. In 13:2, the reader learns that the devil puts it into Judas’ heart to betray Jesus. Three times the disciples are described as troubled, afraid, and sorrowful in heart (14:1, 27; 16:6). The final occurrence of the word appears in a passage that once again acknowledges their pain but points toward the promise of joy: ka‹ Íme›w oÔn nËn m¢n lÊphn ¶xete: pãlin d¢ ˆcomai Ímçw, ka‹ xarÆsetai Ím«n ≤ kard¤a, ka‹ tØn xarån Ím«n oÈde‹w a‡rei éfÉ Ím«n (16:22). In addition to healing, then, the disciples in the narrative and the sectarians receive inalienable joy. That healing and salvation are synonymous is indubitable to any reader of the Synoptics; John’s own connection between healing and salvation is displayed in 3:14, where the author alludes to Moses’ lifting up the serpent in the wilderness to signify what effect Jesus’ crucifixion will have. The author does not explain what transpired in the Moses event but assumes that the reader already knows. In fact, Moses’ raising the serpent brought healing (ka‹ §po¤hsen Mvus∞w ˆfin xalkoËn ka‹ ¶sthsen aÈtÚn §p‹ shme¤ou, ka‹ §g°neto ˜tan ¶daknen ˆfiw ênyrvpon, ka‹ §p°blecen §p‹ tÚn ˆfin tÚn xalkoËn ka‹ ¶zh, Num 21:9), that is, life and salvation, two of the author’s favorite words. All of these, healing, salvation, and joy, are no small rewards for the insiders. Finally, in his concluding remarks on the pericope, the author implies that there are some potential sectarians who remain on the fringe for fear of being put out of the synagogue. The author has no patience for such people and contrasts Isaiah’s seeing Jesus’ glory and professing it with those who have seen but do not profess because they are more concerned with human glory than Jesus’. Such a presentation both calls the fence-sitters to complete allegiance and confirms those already wholly aligned with the group. We are once again reminded of the sect as a high ideology group characterized by unsettled lives prone to apostasy. Those in settled lives are wary of joining due to the heavy social dislocation involved. John 13:18: oÈ per‹ pãntvn Ím«n l°gv: §g∆ o‰da t¤naw §jelejãmhn: éllÉ ·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª: ı tr≈gvn mou tÚn êrton §p∞ren §pÉ §m¢ tØn pt°rnan aÈtoË.

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If the reader of 12:37 was struck by the author’s doubly-expressed explanation for the disbelief of the crowds, that reader will feel almost bludgeoned by the author’s response to what appears to have been the embarrassing fact of Jesus’ betrayal by one of his closest disciples. The Synoptics narrate Judas’ betrayal in roughly similar fashion. Judas confers with the chief priests and is promised money to betray Jesus; Jesus indicates his knowledge of his imminent betrayal by Judas; Judas leads the police to the garden and identifies the suspect with a kiss. Mark says no more about Judas. Luke claims that Judas bought a field with the “reward of his wickedness” (misyÒw t∞w édik¤aw), and then fell down and died, simultaneously getting his just reward and fulfilling Ps 69:26 (Acts 1:15ff.). Matthew narrates quite a different story. Matthew, whose community evidences a polemical engagement with fellow Jews similar to the Fourth Gospel’s in intensity, also seems to have suffered some assault and embarrassment on account of Jesus’ resistibility even to an “insider” like Judas. Matthew solves the problem by restoring Judas in a sense; he has Judas not only repent, but also return the money and tell the chief priests that Jesus was innocent. As if that were not enough, he even has Judas kill himself. So, Matthew handles the problem in a typically Matthean fashion, namely, by showing the disciples in the best possible light. Likewise, the author of the Fourth Gospel solves the Judas problem in a typically Johannine fashion, namely, by showing that Jesus is eminently in control of the situation, orchestrates everything that occurs, and is diminished in no way by anyone, even Judas. Jesus displays no sadness or frustration; rather, he comes across as a person who has received special information before anyone else and enjoys dropping enough hints to prove that he knows what is going to happen and can hardly stand the anticipation of seeing it all come to pass so that he can say, “See, I told you so.” Apart from the general comment at 2:24–25, the first specific evidence of Jesus’ knowledge regarding Judas’ betrayal appears at 6:71. Jesus has recently concluded the Bread Discourse and lost some disciples as a result. He then asks the Twelve if they want to depart, to which Peter responds with his confession of Jesus as the Holy One of God. On the heels of this climactic moment, Jesus indicates that one of the twelve is a “devil” (diãbolow). The author then identifies Judas as the culprit. Twice more the author mentions diabolical influence on Judas (13:2 and 13:27). By the time we arrive at ch. 13, we not only expect Judas to oppose Jesus, but we also have placed him into the

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same category of degraded opponents who appear in ch. 8 and are portrayed as progeny of the devil. The narrator goes on to say (6:71), otow går ¶mellen paradidÒnai aÈtÒn, eÂw §k t«n d≈deka, his concessive clause implying that he is compelled to respond to the fact that Jesus was betrayed by an intimate insider. John again faces the problematic fact of Judas squarely in 12:4, which narrates the exchange between Jesus and Judas when Judas castigates Jesus for the waste of precious ointment. The author introduces the conflict with this description of Judas: ÉIoÊdaw ı ÉIskari≈thw eÂwÑ [§k] t«n mayht«n aÈtoË, ı m°llvn aÈtÚn paradidÒnai. He is once again boldly presented both as one of the twelve and as the betrayer. Whereas in 6:71 the author further characterizes Judas as a devil, here he adds “thief ” (kl°pthw) to the image. Judas appears more often in the Fourth Gospel than in any other work and, in the Fourth Gospel, he is never mentioned without the concomitant identification as the betrayer. The author begins ch. 13 by announcing both that Jesus “knew” that his hour had come and that he loved his own (ofl ‡dioi, cf. 1:11, etc.).85 The next verse (v. 2) shows that the devil came unto his own and his own, Judas, received him. Next, the reader hears once again that Jesus “knows” of his imminent return to God, and this knowledge leads him to wash the disciples’ feet; he initiates the process by telling Peter that Peter does not “know” what Jesus is doing. Jesus then pronounces almost all of the disciples clean. While Jesus does not tell the disciples who remains unclean, the author does apprise the reader: ædei går tÚn paradidÒnta aÈtÒn: diå toËto e‰pen ˜ti OÈx‹ pãntew kayaro¤ §ste (v. 11).86 Any disciple who was paying close attention two chapters later would deduce that Judas was the unclean disciple because Jesus proclaims to the disciples without qualification: ≥dh Íme›w kayaro¤ §ste diå tÚn lÒgon ˘n lelãlhka Èm›n 85 The concern about who belongs to whom in the Fourth Gospel is prominent. In the end, chs. 13ff indicate that only the disciples comprise Jesus’ “own.” It is not difficult to imagine that all of this “belonging” language established clear boundaries for the sect. The auditors are supposed to be among Jesus’ own and have God as their father. Those who are not Jesus’ own belong to the devil and have the devil as their father. Even Moses is not legitimate as a father; nor are ancestors such as Abraham or Jacob. 86 This kind of aside is consistent with the author’s insistence that the disciples could not understand all of Jesus’ words before the glorification, whereas the reader, who exists post-glorification, is privy to the information. The author distinguishes narrative time from the contemporary readers’ time.

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(15:3). Judas was not among them (having gone out into the night at 13:30), and that is why Jesus could speak about cleanliness without caveat. Jesus goes on in ch. 13 to command the disciples to wash one another’s feet, arguing from greater to lesser; that is, if Jesus as Lord behaves that way, surely the disciples as slaves should. He then acknowledges them as insiders, literally, those in the “know” (13:17),87 but again, he qualifies his statement by adding oÈ pãntew, referring to Judas without explicitly saying so. At this point, the author once again highlights Jesus’ omniscience: “I know whom I have chosen.” The author again connects ch. 13 and ch. 6. At 6:70f. Jesus’ reference to his choosing of the Twelve is followed by a word against Judas, just as his reference to his choosing of the Twelve at 13:18b is followed by a word against Judas.88 Unlike ch. 6, however, the word against Judas is spoken by Jesus in a rather obscure way, from the narrative point of view. That is, Jesus follows his statement, “I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen,” with a scriptural quote that he claims will be fulfilled. He roughly quotes Ps 40 (41):10:89 “the one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me” and goes on to explain that he is telling them this prÚ toË gen°syai, so that when “it” happened it would effect belief in him regarding his identity. A passage such as this shows that the Gospel was written primarily with an eye to the contemporary audience rather than an eye to simple historical recounting, because from a narrative point of view the disciples would have been quite confused about the “it” that is going to happen. While the reader, as one who shares the narrator’s omniscient point of view, has been repeatedly prepared for Judas’ betrayal, the disciples have no idea that Judas has any nasty motives. We might expect the narrator to tell us here that after it happened they remembered what he had said and realized that the Scripture had been written of him. At the very

87 O‰da appears eighty-four times in the Fourth Gospel, twenty-four in Matt, twenty-one in Mark, and twenty-five in Luke; gin≈skv appears fifty-seven times in the Fourth Gospel, twenty in Matt, twelve in Mark, and twenty-eight in Luke. These figures have not been lost on those who want to see a gnostic influence on the Gospel. 88 Jesus mentions the fact that the disciples are his “chosen” (§kl°gv; he never uses §klektÒw) again at 15:16 (twice) and 15:19. 89 Quite likely Ps 41 as a whole was a psalm used by the community; it is a psalm that could easily be read christologically.

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least, we might expect them to ask him to explain himself. That does not happen. Only at v. 21 does Jesus speak more clearly, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.”90 Jesus further specifies the traitor as the fellow to whom he will give the intincted, baptized bread, and then gives that bread to Judas. Again, ch. 13 reminds the reader of ch. 6, the other place where bread, Jesus, and discipleship congregate. Just as Jesus indicated in ch. 6, and the narrator indicated in 13:2, Judas traffics with the devil. Jesus encourages Judas to complete his task. Oddly, the disciples do not “know” what Jesus means by this. Apparently no ruckus has emerged among them after Jesus has handed the baptized bread to Judas as they still seem to have no idea that he is the traitor. The episode ends with Judas departing into the darkness (v. 30). Clearly the author’s first concern is not with scrupulous narrative logic. What purpose is served by the quotation of Scripture here? The “problem” of Judas lends itself to two different, but not mutually exclusive, interpretations. First, the community may be sustaining attack on account of the scandal of Judas. Second, if we adopt Martyn’s proposal of a “two-level” drama, then Judas represents sectdefectors in John’s own community.91 The author uses Scripture apologetically to explain that the Judas affair amounts to no real crisis for the sectarians; quite to the contrary, it shows that Scripture validates the community’s experience, that Scripture was written with a view to the Johannine community. It also reveals, as do all invocations of Scripture, that Scripture is a locus of authority, certainly for the community, but it would appear that this is also the case for the opponents. The author not only reassures the community, but also provides them with a scriptural arsenal so that they might be equipped to battle the opponents on that front. In other words, bothering to show that a certain event is in keeping with Scripture implies that Scripture serves as a locus of authority for both the arguer and his 90 Passages like this elicit sympathy for those who long to help the evangelist arrange his Gospel more logically. For instance, narratively it would make more sense to place the scriptural quotation found in 13:18 between the first and second halves of 13:26, right after Jesus has told the disciples that one of them will betray Jesus and made the comment about dipping the bread. Furthermore, v. 20 seems a bit in the way. 91 Dahl finds in Judas a paradigmatic opponent: “Die Welt in ihrem Widerspruch zu Gott und seinem Gesandten existiert jedoch nicht nur außerhalb der Kirche, sondern auch im Kreis der Jünger Jesu. Dafür ist im vierten Evangelium Judas das typische Beispiel.” Dahl, “Der Erstgeborene Satans,” 80.

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opponent. As is the case with both the Davidian and Qumran communities, Scripture is assumed to point to the Johannine community. The use of Scripture here also shows the sect’s founder to have special insight into Scripture as it is Jesus, not the narrator, who refers to the scriptural text. That the author intends to elevate Jesus is further intimated by Jesus’ comment immediately after his scriptural quotation in which he displays not only the supernatural gift of augury, but also that he is God.92 Jesus’ decision to quote Scripture at 13:18 does not make much narrative sense insofar as the disciples have no way of understanding what he means at that point. Unlike the reader, the disciples have no idea that Judas will betray Jesus and they have not yet begun eating bread. The author has his eye toward the reader, not the characters. The reader does, in fact, already suspect that Judas is the one to whom Jesus refers, and the author reveals a bit of woodenness here in having Jesus foretell the future, thus revealing his divine nature, and then immediately having it come to pass only a few verses later. In other words, had the author inserted the quote at the more “natural” place in terms of narration, namely, between 13:26a and 13:26b, it would manifest Jesus’ divinity less effectively, insofar as the occasion of eating bread could have “instigated” the quote, so to speak, and it would give the reader less cause to feel like an insider, one who knows and understands beforehand what is going to happen in the narrative. The reader would be more on the level with the disciples in the narrative. Instead, the reader has a full understanding of what is signified by Jesus’ giving the bread to Judas. This type of move falls under the use of literary and rhetorical techniques to effect inclusion or exclusion. Finally, the author “solves” the problem of Judas for the Johannine community, the problem of an insider apostatizing, through status degradation; the author shows not that Judas used to be “one of 92 The §g≈ efimi statements are a peculiar Johannine feature that has engendered much consideration. Generally speaking, they are taken to approximate God’s selfrevelation in the  as “I am.” Bultmann distinguishes among John’s various uses of §g≈ efimi ( John, 225 n. 3). Edwin D. Freed has explored the §g≈ efimi phenomenon in various articles: “Ego Eimi in John 1:20 and 4:25,” CBQ 41 (1979): 288–91; “Ego Eimi in John viii.24 in the Light of Its Context and Jewish Messianic Belief,” JTS 33 (1982): 163–67; “Who or What Was before Abraham in John 8:58?” JSNT 17 (1983): 52–59. Neyrey provides a useful synopsis of John’s use of the phrase in An Ideology, Appendix I. See also Philip B. Harner, The “I Am” of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Johannine Usage and Thought (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1970).

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them” and then had a change of heart, but rather that Judas never really was one of them. It is worth exploring this feature, unique to the Fourth Gospel, using Garfinkel’s model. As discussed earlier, status degradation involves three dramatis personae: the denouncer, the denounced, and the group which the denouncer is trying to convince (which Garfinkel denominates “witnesses”). In the narrative, Jesus and the narrator collude as the denouncer, Judas is the denounced, and the disciples are the witnesses. On the historical level of the author’s contemporary audience, the author is the denouncer, the sectarians are the witnesses, and apostates from the sect are the denounced. Recall that the denouncer must present himself or herself as an authentic representative of the group, one who embodies the group’s ultimate values. Jesus plays this role. At the very beginning of the pericope, 13:1, one learns that Jesus loved his own (ofl ‡dioi); immediately after saying this, the narrator separates Judas from this group by marking him as the betrayer and as one associated with the devil: ka‹ de¤pnou ginom°nou, toË diabÒlou ≥dh beblhkÒtow efiw tØn kard¤an ‡na parado› aÈtÚn ÉIoÊdaw S¤mvnow ÉIskari≈tou (13:2). It is important to consider previous passages with which 13:2 is connected. First, this association with the devil is extremely significant given the first analysis of degradation that I performed regarding “the Jews” of ch. 8; there, one characteristic feature of the Jews was their connection to the devil. This connection must be remembered when reading ch. 13. Second, the opponents were characterized in ch. 12 as those whose hearts (kard¤a) were hardened. Judas’ heart (kard¤a) is controlled by the devil. Furthermore, ch. 12 found the narrator insisting that Judas was a thief (kl°pthw). Next Jesus washes the disciples’ feet. During that act, Jesus declares his disciples “clean.” Once again, Judas is immediately singled out as different and separate from the rest of the group: ka‹ Íme›w kayaro¤ §ste, éllÉ oÈx‹ pãntew. ædei går tÚn paradidÒnta aÈtÒn: diå toËto e‰pen ˜ti OÈx‹ pãntew kayaro¤ §ste (13:10b–11). Now not only is Judas controlled by the devil, but he is also unclean. Jesus emphasizes the essential connection between his disciples (servants) and himself (the master).93 Recall Garfinkel’s note: “What the denouncer says must be regarded by the witnesses as true on the 93 The intimate and essential connection between Jesus and the disciples is especially emphasized in the Farewell Discourse.

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grounds of a socially employed metaphysics whereby witnesses assume that witnesses and denouncer are alike in essence. . . . For bona fide members it is not that these are the grounds upon which we are agreed but upon which we are alike, consubstantial, in origin the same.”94 Yet again, Jesus draws a strict boundary between himself and the witnesses on the one side and Judas on the other when he separates Judas out by saying: oÈ per‹ pãntvn Ím«n l°gv: §g∆ o‰da t¤naw §jelejãmhn, thereby doubly excluding him: first by not including him in the speech about the connection between Jesus and the disciples and second by labeling him “not-chosen.” Now Judas is controlled by the devil; his heart is in the wrong place; he is unclean; enjoys no servant relationship with the master; and is not among “the elect.” As Garfinkel claims, a successful status degradation requires first that the denounced and that which is being blamed on the denounced (Garfinkel calls the latter “the event”) must be “removed from the realm of their everyday character and be made to stand as ‘out of the ordinary.’”95 Second, the denounced and the event must be seen in terms of types rather than unique occurrences so that a certain uniformity regarding both is engendered. “[A]ny sense of accident, coincidence, indeterminism, chance, or monetary [sic] occurrence must not merely be minimized. Ideally, such measures should be inconceivable. . . .”96 Having been convinced of the typed nature of the denounced, the group must then think in dialectical terms such that “they should not be able to contemplate the features of the denounced person without reference to the counterconception,” so that character traits are further clarified when held to the light of their opposites. Having set the situation up in this way, the denouncer aims to have the witnesses in such a position that no real choice is involved when regarding the denounced; rather, morality constrains the group to believe that the need for denunciation is obvious, if not commonsensical. The rest of ch. 13 manifests these very features. Every single time Judas is mentioned, the author tags him as the “betrayer” so that the reader never really considers him to be a true disciple. Therein lies the irony that usually accompanies degradation ceremonies; that is, the disparity between what the denounced 94 95 96

Garfinkel, 423 body and n. 12. Ibid., 422. Ibid.

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seemed to be and what he or she is now proved to be in reality is highlighted. Successful degradation requires that the character of Judas as presently described is taken to be the essential character which may have previously escaped notice. Throughout the Gospel, Judas appears to be one of the disciples, but the reader knows from Judas’ first introduction that such is not the case. In ch. 13 Jesus announces to the group that one of those present would betray him. While the reader knows exactly who is meant, the disciples in the narrative have no idea. They ask Jesus to be specific. He indicates that it is the one to whom he will hand the bread. As soon as he does so, the narrator once again paints Judas in terms of a heart controlled by the devil/Satan (efis∞lyen efiw §ke›non ı Satançw), just as he did in v. 2. The irony continues as the disciples, even after Jesus has given the bread to Judas identifying him as the traitor, think that Judas is going to help the poor, though the narrator has informed the reader in ch. 12 that Judas is patently not interested in helping the poor. The denunciation is further clinched by having Judas depart and the narrator conclude with these words: ∑n d¢ nÊj. In a Gospel that identifies true disciples with light and opponents with darkness, the comment is not accidental. Once Judas, the outsider, is eliminated from the group picture, the “insider-instruction” can begin, which it does at 13:31. The author has achieved stunning success in his status degradation; an impermeable boundary has been constructed between Judas and the other disciples (or, in the author’s community, between apostates and sectarians). The denounced has been separated from the group and denouncer. So much distance has been established between the witnesses and the denounced that Judas has been “ritually separated from a place in the legitimate order; i.e., he [has been] defined as standing at a place opposed to it.” He has been “placed outside” and “made strange.”97 John 15:25: éllÉ ·na plhrvyª ı lÒgow ı §n t“ nÒmƒ aÈt«n gegramm°now ˜ti §m¤shsãn me dvreãn. All would agree that John evinces a concern for love. Of one hundred forty-two occurrences of égapãv in the , thirty-seven occur

97

Ibid., 423.

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in the Fourth Gospel and thirty-one in 1, 2, and 3 John. égãph is a particularly Johannine word; the Fourth Gospel harbors seven of its nine  appearances.98 In addition, of the twenty-five occurrences of fil°v, thirteen appear in the Fourth Gospel. But John is even more disproportionately concerned with hate, which is showcased in 15:18–25.99 Hatred of Jesus (mis°v) forms an inclusio in the passage which has vv. 18 and 25 as its brackets. The first part of the passage alludes to the world’s hatred of the disciples and the second part to hatred of the Father; both the hatred of the disciples and the Father is tied to the hatred of Jesus. The world hates the disciples on account of Jesus’ name because they do not know the Father (v. 21). Whoever hates Jesus also hates the Father (vv. 23, 24). In addition to the author’s explicit treatment of hate (mis°v), close attention to the author’s use and non-use of Scripture corroborates the point. John, for all his attention to love, is the only Gospel writer not to have Jesus quote Lev 19:18, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Either the author did not know the tradition, which, given its appearance in both Paul and James seems unlikely, or the author knew it and chose to omit it for some particular reason.100 98 égaphtÒw, which occurs sixty-one times in the , never appears in the Fourth Gospel. The “beloved disciple” of the Fourth Gospel is always referred to with the verb (e.g., 21:7, ı mayhtØw §ke›now ˜n ±gãpa ı ÉIhsoËw). 99 Of the twenty-five occurrences of mis°v in the Gospels, twelve occur in the Fourth Gospel (3:20; 7:7 [twice]; 12:25; 15:18 [twice], 19, 23 [twice], 24, 25; 17:14). Of those twelve, seven occur in ch. 15. Outside the Gospels and Acts, mis°v occurs only fifteen times (Rom 7:15; 9:13; Eph 5:29; Titus 3:3; Heb 1:9; 1 John 2:9, 11; 3:13, 15; 4:20; Jude 1:23; Rev 2:6 [twice]; 17:16; 18:2); notice that of those fifteen, one-third occur in 1 John. 100 The argument somewhat approximates that surrounding the Bethlehem tradition in which some scholars suggest, improbably, that the author simply did not know the tradition, whereas others argue for the author’s intentional omission. So Raymond Brown states: “The objection raised against Jesus’ being the Messiah indicates that there was no knowledge in Jerusalem that Jesus had actually been born in Bethlehem, an indication that is hard to reconcile with Matt ii.3 where ‘all Jerusalem’ is upset by the birth of the child. Some commentators would transfer the ignorance of Jesus’ birth at Bethlehem from the crowd to the evangelist. They maintain that the silence of John in not giving a rebuttal to the objection in vs. 42 means that the author did not know the tradition of Jesus’ birthplace as it is found in Luke and Matthew.” The Gospel, 330. Duke also attests to the debate: “Though no one doubts irony’s presence here, scholars debate its actual locus. Some say the author has in mind the tradition of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. Others say John neither knows nor cares about that tradition, the ironic point being that Jesus is the Christ precisely in spite of his Galilean origin, because he is really from God.” Duke, Irony, 67. On p. 174 n. 11 Duke provides a bibliography of those who consider John knowledgeable about the Bethlehem tradition (Barrett, Brown, Bernard,

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If John is indeed sectarian, as we argue, then the group’s boundaries preclude any possibility of love for outsiders. The sect is a persecuted minority whose very survival depends on separation from, not sympathy or collusion with, its opponents. As the language throughout the Fourth Gospel indicates, there is an “us” (represented in the text by the disciples who “remember Jesus’ words” and “understand”) and there is a “them,” which indicates all who are “not us.” The fact that the author is concerned primarily, if not exclusively, with the boundary between his group and those outside his group helps to explain why the boundaries between all of those in the Gospel who are “not us” remain so ill-defined; the line drawn between “the Jews,” the Pharisees, the crowd, Nicodemus, the world, Judas, etc., is not always clear. John is the only evangelist who omits the “love” quote of Lev 19:18, and the only author the entire  who includes the “hate” quote: “they hated me without cause,” which the author claims derives from “what is written in their law.” In fact, the sentence, §m¤shsãn me dvreãn, never appears in the ; rather, the phrase ofl misoËnt°w me dvreãn appears twice (Ps 68 [69]:5 and 34 [35]:19). Although the author once again (cf. 10:34) claims to quote from the Law (nÒmow), in actuality he does not quote (he paraphrases) and the “text” is not from the Law (it is a psalm).101 Though it offers the most concentrated attention to hate, ch. 15 is not the first time the author has addressed it. Already at 3:20 “hate” identifies which camp a person inhabits: pçw går ı faËla prãssvn mise› tÚ f«w ka‹ oÈk ¶rxetai prÚw tÆ f«w, ‡na mØ §legxyª tå ¶rga aÈtoË. While this may sound like conventional wisdom or proverbial language, for John it is technical language, so that “hating the light” signifies hating Jesus.102 Those who hate Jesus are further

Culpepper, Hoskyns, Morris, and Schlatter), those who dissent from this view (Bultmann, Lindars, de Jonge, and Meeks), and those who remain neutral (Dodd and Schnackenburg). 101 Campbell’s observation regarding Pauline literature obtains: “Secondly, it appears that Moses was viewed as a prophet and the Torah as the prophetic work par excellence, with the corollary that all his godly successors and their writings could be viewed as analogous, if secondary. The latter factor explains the flexibility evident in the terminology employed in the likes of 1 Cor 14:21, citing Isa 28:11, 12 as part of ‘the law.’” Campbell, Use, 17. 102 The word f«w is particularly Johannine, occurring twenty-three times as opposed to seven times in both Matt and Luke, and once in Mark. Of the twentythree appearances in the Fourth Gospel, all but one (5:35) refer to Jesus. E.g., ∑n

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defined as those who “effect bad things” (ı faËla prãssvn, 3:20).103 In stark contrast, followers of Jesus, defined as “those who come to the light” are those who “do truth” (ı d¢ poi«n tØn élÆyeian). The next time the reader hears of “hate,” at 7:7, she is both reminded of what she has learned in 3:20 and is taught something additional. She finds Jesus explaining to his unbelieving brothers: oÈ dÊnatai ı kÒsmow mise›n Ímçw, §m¢ d¢ mise›, ˜ti §g∆ martur« per‹ aÈtoË ˜ti tå ¶rga aÈtoË ponhrã §stin, and is thereby reminded that “Jesus-haters” do “evil works”; but she also learns that “the world” (ı kÒsmow) falls into the camp of “Jesus-haters.” Thus she is surprised neither by Jesus’ announcement in 15:18ff. that the world hates him nor that people fall into two and only two distinct categories, here “those who belong to the world” (§k toË kÒsmou, 15:19)104 and “those who do not belong to the world.” In this passage Jesus identifies the latter as his disciples. There are two related principles at work in Jesus’ words: (a) one can only love and be loved by that which is one’s own (tÚ ‡dion), that to which one belongs, and (b) one can belong to only one group. So, the world must love its own (15:18); the disciples are not the world’s own but rather are Jesus’ own, as the reader already knows from 13:1: égapÆsaw toÁw fid¤ouw toÁw §n t“ kÒsmƒ efiw t°low ±gãphsen aÈtoÊw (cf. 1:11). Therefore, the disciples must be hated by the world. The world’s hatred is inevitable, but tÚ f«w tÚ élhyinÒn, ˘ fvt¤zei pãnta ênyrvpon, §rxÒmenon efiw tÚn kÒsmon (1:9), Pãlin oÔn aÈto›w §lãlhsen ı ÉIhsoËw l°gvn, ÉEg≈ efimi tÚ f«w toË kÒsmou: ı ékolouy«n §mo‹ oÈ mØ peripatÆs˙ §n tª skot¤&, éllÉ ßjei tÚ f«w t∞w zv∞w (8:12), etc. In 9:5 Jesus indicates that he will not always be in the world: ˜tan §n t“ kÒsmƒ Œ, f«w efimi toË kÒsmou and, as is often the case, the Gospel goes on to verify this

when Jesus’ hour comes and he returns to the Father. The end of the so-called Book of Signs finds the last references in the Fourth Gospel to Jesus as the “light”: …w tÚ f«w ¶xete, pisteÊete efiw tÚ f«w, ·na ufio‹ fvtÚw g°nhsye. TaËta §lãlhsen ÉIhsoËw, ka‹ épely∆n ɧkrÊbh épÉ aÈt«n,” (12:36) and §g∆ f«w efiw tÚn kÒsmon §lÆluya, ·na pçw ı pisteÊvn efiw §m¢ §n tª skoti& mØ me¤n˙ (12:46). Jesus’ words in 12:46 indicate a closure of his activity as the light that shines in the darkness (skot¤a) that was announced in the Prologue (ka‹ tÚ f«w §n tª skot¤& fa¤nei, ka‹ ≤ skot¤a aÈtÚ oÈ kat°laben; 1:5), thus forming an inclusio for the “Book of Signs.” 103 The only other time prãssv occurs is in a passage much like the present one, which distinguishes between two types of people, those who do (poi°v) good and those who accomplish (prãssv) the bad: mØ yaumãzete toËto, ˜ti ¶rxetai Àra §n √ pãntew ofl §n to›w mnhme¤oiw ékoÊsousin t∞w fvn∞w aÈtoË ka‹ §kporeÊsontai, ofl tå égayå poiÆsantew efiw énãstasin zv∞w, ofl d¢ tå faËla prãjantew efiw énãstasin kr¤sevw (5:28–29). 104 In “Derivation,” Keck argues that “indeed, this gospel relies repeatedly on one preposition—§k (of, from)—to express not only its Christology but also its anthropology and soteriology” (274).

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Jesus encourages the disciples in two ways. First, he identifies with their experience. Second, he shows foreknowledge of what the future holds such that his credibility is high; so, if it is the case that what he says about the world’s hatred comes to pass, it should also be the case that comforting promises (of an advocate, of eternal life, etc.) will come to pass. So, just when the disciples begin to undergo their persecution, they should, ideally, remember that Jesus predicted this and be encouraged by the promises that they should expect to be fulfilled. As happens a number of times in the Fourth Gospel, Jesus refers to a statement which he has made earlier in the Gospel. Here he says, mnhmoneÊete toË lÒgou o §g∆ e‰pon Ím›n, OÈk ¶stin doËlow me¤zvn toË kur¤ou aÈtoË (15:20); by referring back to 13:16 we can see that Jesus indeed quotes himself correctly: oÈk ¶stin doËlow me¤zvn toË kur¤ou aÈtoË, though in that context Jesus uses the maxim to enjoin the disciples to act in a certain way toward one another rather than endure the ignominy of the world. The effect of this middle section of 15:18–26 is to list numerous ways in which the disciples are united with Jesus against the world; they are his own, so that which holds true regarding the world’s attitude towards him obviously holds true for them: the world hates them, the world persecutes them, and the world will not keep their word. Jesus then turns his attention from the relationship between the disciples and the world back to the relationship between the world and himself and in doing so largely repeats material he has stated earlier in the Gospel: (1) the world does not know the Father (cf. 16:3) who sent Jesus;105 (2) had the world been ignorant of Jesus it would not be culpable (cf. 9:41); (3) it hates Jesus and his Father; (4) it does not heed Jesus’ words (14:24). Four times in 15:18–25 the author indicates the world’s hatred of Jesus and his father: in vv. 18, 23, 24, and, finally, in v. 25 where Jesus announces that all of this hatred is in accordance with the word that is written in their law.106 Surely the irony is thick when Jesus quotes from “their” law. Throughout the Gospel one has seen a battle raging about the proper

105 Jesus is often described as the one whom God has sent (épost°llv; p°mpv) and God is often described as the one who sent (épost°llv; p°mpv) Jesus. E.g., 3:17, 34; 5:36, 38; 6:29, 57; 7:29; 8:42; 10:36; 11:42; 17:3, 8, 18, 21, 23, 25; 20:21. 106 The author already indirectly indicated the world’s hatred of Jesus at 3:20 and directly at 7:7.

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interpretation of Scripture. The opponents and Jesus confront one another at every turn regarding it, with the opponents claiming that Scripture must be fulfilled, such that Jesus cannot be the Messiah because he breaks the Sabbath (ch. 9), he does not come from Bethlehem (ch. 7), and so on. The irony throughout lies in the fact that Scripture, rightly understood, is fulfilled in Jesus, though the opponents cannot see this because, as Jesus says to them, “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf ” (5:39). The opponents long to see Scripture fulfilled; when Jesus fulfills it, they cannot see it. They long to fulfill Scripture; when they do so, they are blind to its ramifications. At 15:25, Jesus declares that they have achieved their goal, they have, indeed, fulfilled their law, but in the most tragic of ways: “It was to fulfill the word that is written in their law, ‘They hated me without a cause.’” This is a sophisticated move on the author’s part. Unlike Qumran, where the opponents are characterized forthrightly as “law-breakers,” the author of the Fourth Gospel grants, ironically, that the opponents are, indeed, fulfillers of the law, but not in the way that they imagine themselves to be. What does this scriptural citation do for the late-first-century Johannine community? The author intends his community to identify with the disciples/Jesus/Father, so the citation warns the members of John’s community to expect the world’s hatred and persecution, and it provides a theodicy for those already experiencing it. That this experience of hatred was actual rather than hypothetical is suggested by the unusual attention given it; as noted above, John uses “hatred” language more than any other  author, and this passage, 15:18–25, includes the most intense focus upon it, climaxing with a scriptural citation. Moreover, John is the only evangelist to employ either Ps 35:19 or 69:5. Like all sects, the Johannine community is in conflict with the larger community, here fellow Jews. Unlike the Qumran and Davidian groups, this group seems to experience no substantial conflict with the ruling government; this suggestion is corroborated by the Johannine epistles, which indicate not only that the Johannine community survived, but survived long enough to split into factions. In contrast with David Koresh, who distinguished between the parent tradition (Seventh-Day Adventism), “apostate Christianity” (all other Christian groups), and “the world” (everybody else), the fourth evangelist’s use of the cognomen “the world” overlaps with other referents to the parent tradition, rather

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than indicating mere paganism. It is difficult to say whether “the world,” “the Jews,” and “the Pharisees” all apply to one group of opponents or whether the Johannine sect is suffering attack from different Jewish groups (comparable to the various Christian groups which harassed the Branch Davidians), or even if “the world” includes some non-Jews. The group is being attacked at least by the parent tradition which shows up in this passage as “the world.”107 The use of Scripture in this passage draws definite boundaries between insiders and outsiders. The opponents, here called “the world,” are degraded and shown to be, as Garfinkel suggests, something essentially different from the followers of Christ. Simultaneously the opponents are degraded and the sectarians elevated. This is done in both obvious and subtle ways. When Jesus makes statements such as: efi §k toË kÒsmou ∑te, ı kÒsmow ín tÚ ‡dion §f¤lei: ˜ti d¢ §k toË kÒsmou oÈk §st°, éllÉ §g∆ §jelejãmhn Ímçw §k toË kÒsmou, diå toËto mise› Ímçw ı kÒsmow (15:19), he degrades the world as hostile towards him and elevates the disciples as those he has “chosen out of the world”; his disciples are both “chosen” and separate from “the world.” Keck recognizes the “essential difference” of which Garfinkel speaks; referring to the use of §k in John 3:6 he contends: “Here, derivation—one’s ‘of-ness’—determines not only one’s ‘nature’ but also one’s (future) destiny, for only the Spirit-begotten can enter the kingdom.”108 Recognizing the distinction between those who are “of this world” and those who are not “of this world” as primary in this Gospel, Keck characterizes the two groups thus: [W]hen Jesus says, “You are not of this world,” he is not simply identifying his opponents as earthlings or even as denizens of the known solar system. Rather, he is making an anthropological accusation about the derivation of their real “nature”; he is identifying the hostile “whence” that accounts for their obduracy, for their not knowing either him or the Father (8:9), and for their not understanding that his words about the Sender are about the Father (8:27). Their resistance to him actualizes and demonstrates their “of-ness.”109 107 By “the world” the author may signify more than varieties of Judaism. After all, Jesus performs works among non-Jews. Also, the world is a strange category because both Jesus and the Jewish leaders castigate that group (“see the whole world has gone after him”). The author indicates a broad mission: “For God so loved the world. . . .” (3:16); “When I am lifted up I will draw all people to myself ” (12:32), etc. 108 Keck, “Derivation,” 276. 109 Ibid., 280.

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  Jesus’ last word, however, states the condition on which the alternative destiny depends: namely, accepting his christological claim— “believe that I AM”—the enigmatic appropriation of God’s own self-proclamation in Isa 43:10. To paraphrase, those who believe what Jesus says about himself—John’s “high” Christology—will not die in their sins because believing this makes them no longer “of this world.”110

So the author degrades the opponents and elevates the sectarians by associating them with their respective forebears who have been placed in their distinct categories. But the passage also reveals a slightly more subtle method of elevating the disciples: for every negative and degrading characteristic Jesus ascribes to the opponents, the author has depicted the disciples in opposite terms. The world “hates” the disciples and Jesus, whereas the disciples “love one another” (cf. 13:35) and Jesus (e.g., 14:15; 15:17; 17:26; 21:15, 16, 17). The world loves its own, whereas the disciples are not the world’s own (17:14). The world persecutes on account of Jesus (cf. 16:2), whereas the disciples are persecuted on account of Jesus’ name (cf. 16:2). The opponents do not keep Jesus’ word (cf. 14:24), whereas the disciples do (esp. 17:6, “they have kept your word;” cf. also 14:15, 21, 23; 15:10). The opponents do not know God (cf. 16:3), whereas the disciples do (14:7). The opponents’ response to viewing Jesus’ works is hatred of Jesus and his Father (10:38–39), whereas the disciples respond with belief (cf. 2:11). Finally, the scriptural citation provides the ultimate degradation of the opponents, because not only do they hate Jesus, they hate him for no reason at all. That is to say, by means of the scriptural citation, Jesus summarizes the point he has made throughout the Gospel: though the opponents claim to hate him on account of his words and deeds, in actuality they are never able to make their case viable. The only reason they hate Jesus is because their father is the devil (8:44); they are, in their very essence, opponents of Jesus. The Johannine community is supposed to identify with the disciples, Jesus, and God in the narrative such that the text, by depicting the disciples’ and Jesus’ opponents in a degrading light, depicts the Johannine community’s own opponents in the same light.

110 Ibid., 281. While Keck’s argument largely convinces, his logic falters somewhat when he speaks of believers as those who “no longer” are of this world, indicating that the boundaries between the disciples and opponents are permeable, whereas the rest of his argument patently argues for an essential “nature” based on derivation.

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Simultaneously, then, John has used the scriptural citation to mark a boundary between insider and outsider, to degrade the opponents, and to elevate the sectarians. Furthermore, the scriptural citation evinces the practice of setting boundaries by means of literary and rhetorical techniques to effect inclusion or exclusion; those “outside” the group are those who “fulfill Scripture” by hating Jesus “without a cause.” The author also bolsters the confidence of the Johannine sectarians by showing Jesus’ special insight regarding Scripture. The opponents lord Scripture over Jesus and the disciples in the narrative and John’s first-century community, but the disciples are shown the errors of the opponents’ ways. The opponents think they know what Scripture means, but Scripture cannot be understood apart from knowledge of and belief in Jesus (5:39), knowledge and belief that only the Johannine community possesses. The author has a bit of fun in the passage by showing the irony of the opponents’ situation; for all their concern about events and personages corresponding to Scripture and all their smugness about their own adherence to Scripture, they fail to see that they adhere by fulfilling the roles ascribed to God’s enemies, rather than God’s followers in Scripture. As always in the Fourth Gospel, Jesus wields Scripture truly and effectively, leaving his scriptural opponents looking obtuse. This would go some distance in convincing the Johannine sectarians that they had the upper hand, despite appearances and experiences that may indicate otherwise. The invocation of Scripture by Jesus at 15:25 demonstrates that Jesus is a locus of authority: he alone properly understands it and Scripture actually refers to him. The author presents the psalm, written many centuries earlier, as signifying Jesus all along. John 19:23–24: Ofl oÔn strati«tai ˜te §staÊrvsan tÚn ÉIhsoËn, ¶labon tå flmãtia aÈtoË ka‹ §po¤hsan t°ssara m°rh, •kãstƒ strati≈t˙ m°row, ka‹ tÚn xit«na. ∑n d¢ ı xit∆n êrafow, §k t«n ênvyen ÍfantÚw diÉ ˜lou. e‰pan oÔn prÚw éllÆlouw, MØ sx¤svmen aÈtÒn, éllå lãxvmen per‹ aÈtoË t¤now ¶stai: ·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª [≤ l°gousa]: Diemer¤santo tå flmãtiã mou •auto›w ka‹ §p‹ tÚn flmatismÒn mou ¶balon kl∞ron. Ofl m¢n oÔn strati«tai taËta §po¤hsan. While all of the evangelists record the dividing of Jesus’ garments, John’s rendition is peculiar. First, he gives more detail. He indicates the exact number of soldiers involved and the exact number of pieces

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into which the garments were divided. He also mentions a seamless tunic, the particular piece of clothing for which lots were cast among the soldiers. Also, John allows the soldiers themselves to speak in first person rather than reporting on them in third person. The structure of the material about dividing Jesus’ garments is chiastic and focuses attention on the quote itself. Having set up the scene depicting the soldiers’ actions in detail, the author then turns to a scriptural citation taken from Ps 22(21):19 (18) and concludes by once again commenting on the actions of the soldiers. Ps 22(21):19 (18) reads: diemer¤santo tå flmãtiã mou •auto›w ka‹ §p‹ tÚn flmatismÒn mou ¶balon kl∞ron. By marking the passage with italics in Appendix III, NA26 suggests that all of the evangelists directly quote this psalm. Only the fourth evangelist, however, actually indicates that he is quoting from Scripture, and he does quote it exactly. His narrative concerning the division of garments differs from the Synoptics because its details are dictated by the scriptural quote itself. This holds true even in permitting the soldiers to speak in first person since the psalm itself uses first person language. Much has been made of the various features of this passage. The fact that it differs from or provides more detail than the Synoptics leads to a discussion over John’s use or ignorance of the Synoptics.111 John’s misreading of the psalm’s parallelism, which leads him to posit two garments rather than one (in the same way that Matthew’s Jesus rides two animals rather than one; Matt 21:7), has been noticed.112 The symbolism of the seamless tunic has been explored, with the tunic representing now Jesus as High Priest, now the unity of the church.113 While everyone is interested in the details, the very fact that John should quote Scripture at all does not command any attention. Scholars apparently consider it axiomatic that a Christian text, especially a Christian Gospel, must include scriptural quotations and

111 Barrett concludes: “John is probably dependent on Mark, but either he, or intermediate tradition, has modified the source markedly. Every one of the alterations is at least connected with a dogmatic motive.” C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John (London: SPCK, 1955), 455. 112 Cf. Bultmann, John, 670 n. 7; Barrett, John, 458; Brown, John, 920. 113 Cf. Brown, John, 620–22. Regarding the garment, Meeks notes: “In contrast to the synoptic accounts (Mark 15.20; Matthew 27.31) there is no indication in John that the purple robe was removed before the actual crucifixion. In John the scene is not the satirical aftermath of Jesus’ condemnation, but the prelude to his paradoxical exaltation.” Prophet-King, 69.

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proof-texts. But noncanonical Gospels, such as the Gospel of Philip, Marcion’s gospel, or the Gospel of Truth, prove otherwise. Such an assumption is anachronistic and presupposes the canon. That all of the canonical Gospels express concern for the fulfillment of Scripture does not imply for the historian that concern for the fulfillment of Scripture is logically inevitable. Furthermore, the historian must not assume that proof-texts serve the same function for each Gospel or even within each Gospel. As a social historian, I wonder why John directs his readers’ attention to Scripture so intensely during the narration of the crucifixion. Nineteen times in the Fourth Gospel the author explicitly indicates that he is quoting Scripture; one-quarter of those appear in the crucifixion passage, 19:16b–37. Before venturing an explanation of the appearance of the citations, it is important to review briefly each of the three remaining citations in ch. 19. John 19:28: Metå toËto efid∆w ı ÉIhsoËw ˜ti ≥dh pãnta tet°lestai, ·na teleivyª ≤ grafÆ, l°gei, Dic«. The first person singular of dicãv does not appear in the , so it is unclear which grafÆ the author intends to quote here, if any; NA26 suggests Ps 69 (68):22 or Ps 63 (62):2. True to John’s depiction of Jesus throughout the Gospel, Jesus is quite in control of himself on the cross. John depicts Jesus not as suffering from thirst but as making perfunctory mention of it on his way to completing his list of personal tasks. It may be that the author is either combating docetic tendencies (by indicating Jesus’ thirst) or inventing them (by depicting Jesus not as actually needing any physical relief, but simply aligning himself with Scripture). John 19:32–36: ∑lyon oÔn ofl strati«tai ka‹ toË m¢n pr≈tou kat°ajan tå sk°lh ka‹ toË êllou toË sustaurvy°ntow aÈt“: §p‹ d¢ tÚn ÉIhsoËn §lyÒntew, …w e‰don ≥dh aÈtÚn teynhkÒta, oÈ kat°ajan aÈtoË tå sk°lh, éllÉ eÂw t«n strativt«n lÒgx˙ aÈtoË tØn pleurån ¶nujen, ka‹ ¶j∞lyen eÈyÁw aÂma ka‹ Ïdvr. ka‹ ı §vrak∆w memartÊrhken, ka‹ élhyinØ aÈtoË §stin ≤ martur¤a, ka‹ §ke›now o‰den ˜ti élhy∞ l°gei, ·na ka‹ Íme›w pisteÊ[s]hte. §g°neto går taËta ·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª, ÉOstoËn oÈ suntribÆsetai aÈtoË. John 19:37: ka‹ pãlin •t°ra grafØ l°gei, ÖOcontai efiw ˘n §jek°nthsan.

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The frequency with which Scripture is quoted during the crucifixion necessitates a few words of warning. First, if Robert Fortna’s composition theory is correct, John inherited the Passion Narrative rather than having composed it from scratch.114 There is no reason to doubt this. Accepting such a proposal, however, should not lead to minimizing the significance of the citations for the author’s own community. Gone are the days, fortunately, when the evangelists were seen as mere “stringers of pearls.” The present study assumes that the author intentionally includes each and every citation present. John has shown repeatedly, especially in comparison to the Synoptics, that he is capable of shaping his Gospel to fit the needs of his own community. The second word of warning is not to disregard the import of the citations for the Fourth Gospel simply because all of the Gospels show a concern for the “fulfillment” of Scripture. As it turns out, only the Fourth Gospel explicitly points to the fulfillment of Scripture with respect to the crucifixion. One must account for John’s concentrated attention to Scripture during the crucifixion. If the first warning concerns divesting the citations of real importance, the second advises against considering “fulfillment” the only or the primary purpose in John’s citing Scripture.115 As attention to the other direct citations in this chapter has shown, John does much more with Scripture than worry about its “fulfillment.” It may be tempting to ascribe the frequency solely to John’s theological intentions, development of meaningful symbolism, preservation of tradition, or the like.116 Surely the Synoptists also have theological and symbolic agendas to promulgate via the crucifixion passage; surely they seek to perpetuate tradition, but none of the Synoptists explicitly invokes any particular scriptural citation when recounting the crucifixion.117 It will not do, then, simply to gloss over

114

Robert Fortna, The Fourth Gospel and Its Predecessor (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988). See Johannes Beutler, “The Use of ‘Scripture’ in the Gospel of John” in Exploring the Gospel of John (ed. R. Alan Culpepper and C. Clifton Black; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 147–62. 116 See David E. Garland, “The Fulfillment Quotations in John’s Account of the Crucifixion,” in Perspectives on John: Method and Interpretation in the Fourth Gospel (ed. Robert B. Sloan and Mikeal C. Parsons; Lewiston, N.Y.: Mellen, 1993), 229–50. 117 Both Matt and Mark allude to Ps 22:1, et al., but allusions function differently or at least more subtly than proof-texts. Allusions presume knowledge on the part of the audience and/or indicate the author’s own view of Scripture as the mold into which contemporary experiences fit somehow. Further, by allusions the author teaches his or her audience to understand their world in scriptural terms. Allusions 115

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the peculiar congregation of scriptural citations in John 19 with gross generalizations and then consider it “explained,” any more than it would to gloss over Matthew’s peculiar congregation of scriptural citations surrounding Jesus’ infant and toddler years, or Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. I suggest two primary reasons for the inclusion of Scripture, one relating to outsiders and one relating to insiders. First, the outsiders. The crucifixion seems to have comprised a “problem” for the Johannine community vis-à-vis its parent tradition. If the Jewish opponents of the group harassed the Johannine Christians over the scriptural incongruity of Jesus’ Nazareth origins (cf. ch. 7), it is even easier to imagine that the Jewish opponents of the group would have enthusiastically and facilely “proved” to the Johannine Christians that, based on Deut 21:23, a crucified Messiah was not in accordance with Scripture. That a crucified Messiah could cause some embarrassment is indicated elsewhere in the  (Heb 12:2; Gal 3:13; 1 Cor 1:23). The author of the Fourth Gospel, by adducing Scripture in relating the story of the crucifixion, provides his community with ammunition against scripturally knowledgeable detractors by showing that, in fact, Scripture does corroborate Christian claims. His concern to do so implies opposition from the parent tradition. A second battle being waged using Scripture has to do with the insiders’ understanding of Jesus’ death. That the author must insist on the trustworthiness of his presentation implies that he is defending against or anticipating rejection on the part of someone from among his readers. The same phenomenon occurs in Galatians where Paul must defend himself against outsiders ( Judaizers), provide the insiders (Galatian Gentile Christians) with ammunition to rebuff the outsiders, and correct the belief and behavior of the insiders. At Gal 1:20 Paul writes, ì d¢ grãfv Ím›n, fidoË §n≈pion toË yeoË ˜ti oÈ ceÊdomai. When John says, ka‹ ı •vrak∆w memartÊrhken, ka‹ élhyinØ aÈtoË §stin ≤ martur¤a, ka‹ §ke›now o‰den ˜ti élhy∞ l°gei, ·na ka‹ Íme›w pisteÊ[s]hte (19:35), there is no reason to assume the comment applies only to Jesus’ side being pierced, but rather to the whole recounting of the crucifixion. As noted above, the parenthetical comment explaining that Jesus’ assertion of thirst was to fulfill Scripture require more sophistication on the part of the audience; it may be possible to delineate the nature of a text’s audience by comparing the occurrence of allusions and direct references.

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may imply a “naïve docetism” on the part of the evangelist, if he, rather than a redactor, provided the note. That Docetism was a problem in Johannine circles is evident from the Johannine Epistles, which seek to quash it (cf. 1 John 4:2; 2 John 7). It is quite possible that the heretics of the Johannine Epistles found their basis in the Fourth Gospel itself. The claims regarding the piercing of Jesus’ side and the integrity of his bones probably indicate symbolism associated with Jesus’ crucifixion, such as Jesus as the Paschal Lamb,118 Jesus as the “living water,” and so on. I am interested not in explaining every possible theological implication of “blood and water,” but rather in arguing that the author is attempting to shape a group that has clear boundaries so that if a person wants to remain a member in good standing in John’s group, she must understand, or at least confess, (1) that Jesus’ death occurred in a particular way and (2) that such details of his death are concordant with Scripture.119 By means of comparison, passages such as the following appear often in the Branch Davidian material: And then Sister Roden comes along and point blank and teaches her message is to gather wave sheaf. So here we have four angels holding the winds, that the winds should not blow until the servants of God, the 144,000, the antitypical disciples of the day, are going to be sealed. So now it’s not until the angel ascends from the east, which would be the seventh angel. Let me repeat now, Sister White’s the third, Brother Houteff is the fourth, Brother Roden is the fifth, Sister

118 That John’s peculiar passion chronology is bound to his depiction of Jesus as the Paschal Lamb is a commonplace argument. See Jack Finegan, Handbook of Biblical Chronology (rev. ed.; Peabody, Mass: Hendrickson, 1998), 355–58. 119 Meeks points to the theological significance of Jesus’ bones remaining unbroken since John portrays Jesus as the Passover Lamb referred to in Exod 12:10. He notices other functions as well, however: The spear-thrust and the statement that Jesus’ bones were not broken are closely connected. In each case more than one motif is present: (1) apologetic: against Jewish objections that Jesus never really died, the two statements demonstrate his actual death (cf. Mk 15.44f.); (2) Scripture fulfillment: each incident is supported by a text introduced by the fulfillment formula. The text for ‘breaking bones’ is not quite clear, since the passive suntribÆsetai occurs only in Ps 33.21, where it is said that God will guard the d¤kaiow lest his bones be broken. It is quite possible, as Bultmann urges (Ev. Joh., 524, n. 8, that the original tradition was based on the psalm text alone, while the evangelist himself introduced the Passover allusion by adjusting the quotation in part to Ex 12:10. (3) In the case of the spear-thrust perhaps there is also a sacramental interest: the sacraments are connected as closely as possible with Jesus’ death. Prophet-King, 77 n. 2.

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Roden is the sixth, and the angel ascending from the east is the seventh angel, the seventh angel saying, “Hurt not till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads with the seal of the living God.” Who’s the living God? The Sabbath seal, the Sabbath seal.120

Recall that when analyzing such passages in chapter four, there, too, I was interested less in working out the intricacies of the symbolism inherent in “wave sheaf,” “antitypical disciples,” or Sister White as the “third angel” and more in noting how Koresh’s use of Scripture here would function for the group. What was important was to note that the insider had to subscribe to the symbolism, even if complete understanding of it was still a future reward for novices in the group. In effect the author of the oral (Koresh) or written (Fourth Gospel) text says, “This is our story and this is the way you must learn to tell it if you are to be reckoned as one of us. The longer you are with us, the more you will come to understand the meaning of the unalterable details which may presently strike you as odd (an angel ascending from the east; blood and water pouring out of Jesus’ side) or obscure (wave sheaf; the importance of the integrity of Jesus’ bones).” With respect to functions related to concern for insiders, the scriptural citations in the crucifixion passion serve severally. First, Scripture is a locus of authority; that an event accords with Scripture serves as a trump card played by the author and seems to require no further explanation on his part. After narrating the piercing of Jesus’ side and the protection of his bones, the author concludes by quoting the applicable Scriptures, thereby assuming that he has “explained” the events. So important is it for the author’s story to comply with his chosen scriptural passages that he can allow the details of his narrative to be dictated by them, as he does with the dividing of the garments. Second, Jesus is shown to have special insight regarding Scripture when he cites Scripture in a perfectly timed manner, having understood at which part of the unfolding drama he presently finds himself. Third, the author may be using Scripture to correct the views of some of the insiders who do not narrate the story in what the author would consider an orthodox manner, thus indicating possible opposition from within the sect. At every quotation in

120

Koresh, Judge.

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ch. 19, the author restricts meaning (usually in an apologetic manner) by having the event affirmed both by Scripture and the narrator’s interpretive commentary. Finally, like the Branch Davidians, the Johannine community seeks to enlarge its group. Primary focus remains on the parent tradition, though occasional concern is shown for attracting those outside both the sect and the parent tradition.

Jesus’ Own Words (lÒgow, lÒgoi, =∞ma, §ntolÆ, lal¤a, taËta lelãlhka) The Fourth Gospel places special emphasis on Jesus’ words (variously designated as lÒgow, lÒgoi, =∞ma, §ntolÆ, laliã, taËta lelãlhka). In what follows, I will address two issues: (1) the status of Jesus’ word(s) vis-à-vis Scripture and (2) the relationship between the author’s presentation of Jesus’ word(s) and the social situation of the Johannine community. Through subtle and less-than-subtle means, the author empties Scripture of its usual authority and instead transfers that functional authority to the words of Jesus. Jesus’ word is God’s word, and Scripture is useful only insofar as it witnesses to Jesus. One way that the author makes this point is by transferring the language which is usually reserved for Scripture to Jesus’ own words such that his words are given priority over Scripture’s. Attention to memory (mimnÆskomai), fulfillment (plhrÒv), observance (thr°v), and belief (pisteÊv) language corroborates this thesis. mimnÆskomai

Memory language (mimnÆskomai) first occurs in the Cleansing of the Temple, where the narrator informs the reader: ÉEmnÆsyhsan ofl mayhta‹ aÈtoË ˜ti gegramm°non §st¤n, ÑO z∞low toË o‡kou sou katafãgeta¤ me (2:17). The disciples come (¶rxomai, 1:39, 46) to Jesus, then move to Scripture, unlike the opponents in the Fourth Gospel, who start with Scripture and, as a result, refuse to come to Jesus: §raunçte tåw grafãw, ˜ti Íme›w doke›te §n aÈta›w zvØn afi≈nion ¶xein: ka‹ §ke›na¤ efisin afl marturoËsai per‹ §moË: ka‹ oÈ y°lete §lye›n prÒw me ·na zvØn ¶xhte (5:39–40). Herein lies one of the key distinctions

between the insiders and outsiders in the Fourth Gospel.

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The next narrated act of memory occurs a few verses later, at 2:22 where, after Jesus has proclaimed that he would raise up the temple in three days, the narrator explains: ˜te oÔn ±g°ryh §k nekr«n, §mnÆsyhsan ofl mayhta‹ aÈtoË ˜ti toËto ¶legen, ka‹ §p¤steusan tª grafª ka‹ t“ lÒgƒ ˘n e‰pen ı ÉIhsoËw. This time the disciples remember Jesus’ words rather than Scripture but, as in the first instance, the disciples’ privileged status as followers of Jesus (here determined by experience of the resurrection) moves them to Scripture; again, the proper order for a Johannine Christian is Jesus first, then Scripture. As a result of the resurrection, the disciples believe in (the) Scripture and in Jesus’ word. Jesus’ word is presented as something to believe in (pisteÊv plus the dative) just as Scripture is to be believed in. The author focuses attention on Jesus’ word; the disciples both remembered it and believed in it, just as they remembered Scripture in 2:17 and believed in it at 2:22. The final occurrence of mimnÆskomai appears at 12:16 where, after narrating the triumphal entry and citing two scriptural quotes in the process, the narrator comments: taËta oÈk ¶gnvsan aÈtoË ofl mayhta‹ tÚ pr«ton, éllÉ ˜te §dojãsyh ÉIhsoËw tÒte §mnÆsyhsan ˜ti taËta ∑n §pÉ aÈt“ gegramm°na ka‹ taËta §po¤hsan aÈt“. Here the author brings the disciples in line with the narrator’s own knowledge that Scripture is understood only through a disciple’s experience of the glorified Jesus. The main point to be immediately grasped is that “memory” language is associated with Scripture every time it appears in the Fourth Gospel; additionally, it applies to Jesus’ own word at 2:22, thereby elevating the status of Jesus’ own word by applying language usually reserved for Scripture.121

121 David Brakke also notices the connection John makes between Jesus’ words and “remembering”: It is possible, then, that the social setting in which Johannine Christians reflected on the obscurity and clarity of Jesus’ words was the process in which educated members of the sect had begun to collect and edit the community’s pool of Wisdom’s (i.e., Jesus’) sayings, ultimately producing the Fourth Gospel (in its various editions). The community’s recollection and reinterpretation of Jesus’ sayings are referred to as “remembering” (2:22), a technical term that early Christians used to describe the ‘process of creating, collecting, and transmitting the sayings of Jesus.’” “Parables and Plain Speech in the Fourth Gospel and the Apocryphon of James” JECS 7 (1999): 198.

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296 plhrÒv

All readers of the Gospels are accustomed to hearing of the “fulfillment” of Scripture. A formula signifying Scripture’s fulfillment occurs once in Mark,122 five times in Luke,123 seven times in John,124 and thirteen times in Matthew.125 But what strikes the reader of the Fourth Gospel is its application to Jesus’ own words. At 17:12, Jesus informs his Father that he has faithfully guarded and kept those whom God had given him, Judas proving the one exception: §fÊlaja, ka‹ oÈde‹w §j aÈt«n ép≈leto efi mØ ı uflÚw t∞w épvle¤aw, ·na ≤ grafØ plhrvyª. Three noteworthy elements inhere at 17:12: (1) Jesus declares that he has lost (épÒllumi) no one (oÈde‹w); (2) Jesus admits he has lost one, the son of loss (épvle¤a); and (3) this loss in no way diminishes Jesus because it has been expected and merely represents the fulfillment of Scripture. One chapter later Jesus is arrested. The soldiers approach and Jesus offers himself and protects the disciples from harassment by saying E‰pon Ím›n ˜ti §g≈ efimi: efi oÔn §m¢ zhte›te, êfete toÊtouw Ípãgein (18:8). The narrator interprets Jesus’ action as a “fulfillment” of the words that Jesus had spoken in 17:12: ·na plhrvyª ı lÒgow ˘n e‰pen ˜ti OÓw d°dvkãw moi oÈk ép≈lesa §j aÈt«n oÈd°na (18:9). The fulfillment formula, ·na plhrvyª is now applied to Jesus’ spoken word (ı lÒgow ˘n e‰pen), not the written word of

Scripture as one might have expected. It is worth noting that the narrator has taken Jesus’ words out of context since he includes only one of the three elements noted in 17:12; he thoroughly dispenses with the issue of Judas, which was the main point of his words at 17:12. The author treats Jesus’ words in the same way that he treats Scripture’s words: he uses the fulfillment formula ·na plhrvyª ı lÒgow ˘n e‰pen and he adapts that original lÒgow to a new situation with what appears to the modern eye as little respect for the original context. The trial before Pilate provides another instance of applying plhrÒv to Jesus’ words. Pilate exhorts the Jews to deal with Jesus according to their own laws. The Jews declare rather oddly that ÑHm›n oÈk

122 123 124 125

27:9.

plhrÒv: plhrÒv: plhrÒv: plhrÒv:

Mark 14:49. 4:21; 24:44; tel°v: 18:31; 21:22; 22:37; t°low: 22:37. 12:38; 13:18; 15:25; 17:12; 19:24, 36; tel°v: 19:28. 1:22; 2:15, 17, 23; 4:14; 5:17; 8:17; 12:17; 13:35; 21:4; 26:54, 56;

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¶jestin épokte›nai oÈd°na (18:31). The narrator explains that the Jews spoke thus ·na ı lÒgow toË ÉIhsoË plhrvyª ˘n e‰pen shma¤nvn po¤« yanãt« ≥mellen époynπskein (18:32). To make sense of this

comment, we must recall that, indeed, Jesus did express his means of death earlier in the story: kég∆ §ån Ícvy« §k t∞w g∞w, pãntaw •lkÊsv prÚw §mautÒn. toËto d¢ ¶legen shma¤nvn po¤ƒ yanãtƒ ≥mellen époynπskein (12:32–33), though at neither place does Jesus or the narrator explicitly define crucifixion as the means. This is an insider book and the audience knows already or will be taught quickly that crucifixion is meant. Again, only Jesus’ words are described in language otherwise reserved for Scripture. Compare 18:32 regarding Jesus’ word with 12:38, which refers to Isaiah’s words: ·na ı lÒgow toË ÉIhsoË plhrvyª ˘n e‰pen ·na ı lÒgow ÉHsa˛ou toË profÆtou plhrvyª ˘n e‰pen

Clearly John thinks of Jesus’ words and Scripture in identical terms. thr°v

Similarly, close attention to John’s use of the word thr°v yields fruit. The term appears most frequently in ch. 8 and chs. 14–17; ch. 8 establishes the term as associated with Scripture and chs. 14–17 reveal the subtle transferal of authority from Scripture to properly Jesus alone. thr°v is used in the , the , and other ancient Christian and Jewish literature with regard to observing the commands of Scripture.126 For example, James 2:10 warns: ˜stiw går ˜lon tÚn nÒmon thrÆs˙ pta¤s˙ d¢ §n •n¤, g°gonen pãntvn ¶noxow, and Matt 19:17 finds Jesus exhorting: ı d¢ e‰pen aÈt“, T¤ me §rvtòw per‹ toË égayoË; eÂw §stin ı égayÒw: efi d¢ y°leiw efiw tØn zvØn efiselye›n, tÆrhson tåw §ntolãw. Likewise, at John 9:16 the word is used with reference to Jesus’ breaking the sabbath: ¶legon oÔn §k t«n Farisa¤vn tin°w, OÈk ¶stin otow parå yeoË ı ênyrvpow, ˜ti tÚ sãbbaton oÈ thre›. All of the Synoptics rather overtly defend Jesus against the charges that he and his disciples do not observe the commandments as presented in Scripture; so Matthew shows Jesus not only instructing his disciples to obey the Law, but even intensifying the Law

126

See BAGD, 815.

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(5:19). All of the Synoptics show Jesus countering the accusation lodged against him that his disciples pluck grain on the Sabbath by giving a scriptural example of David and his followers doing the same. John does not engage in such a defense. Nowhere in the Fourth Gospel is anyone enjoined to observe (thr°v) the commandments of Scripture. John’s readers need only observe (thr°v) Jesus’ own words; in doing so, they will automatically follow the word of the Father. In deciding how to behave, the audience of the Fourth Gospel needs only to consult Jesus. Scripture is not presented as an ethical manual; its single function in the Fourth Gospel is to witness to the identity of Jesus as the one by whom and in whom eternal life is granted. Now the observance language usually reserved for the law applies only to Jesus’ own words. In ch. 8, John narrates a discordant discussion between Jesus and some other Jews. Here I attend only to the presentation of Jesus’ word (lÒgow). At 8:26 and 8:28 Jesus declares that the very word that he speaks is the Father’s word. At 8:30 many Jews believe in (pisteÊv) Jesus, but immediately they are depicted in unfavorable terms as Jesus indicates that belief is not enough, that the distinguishing characteristic of a Jesus-disciple is “abiding in his word” (ÉEån Íme›w me¤nhte §n t“ lÒgƒ t“ §m“, élhy«w mayhta¤ moÊ §ste). The use of the possessive adjective denotes emphasis on Jesus’ own word and contrasts it with traditional Scripture where, a few verses earlier, he uses another possessive adjective, §n t“ nÒmƒ d¢ t“ Ímet°rƒ g°graptai (8:17). Jesus proceeds to prove patently that these “many who believed” do not abide in his word; in fact, Jesus relates their desire to kill him not to his deeds (cf. 11:47ff.), but rather to his word: zhte›t° me épokte›nai, ˜ti ı lÒgow ı §mÚw oÈ xvre› §n Ím›n (8:37). Jesus reemphasizes this point in 8:43, where he presents his word as the boundary marker that signifies insider and outsider: diå t¤ tØn laliån tØn §mØn oÈ gin≈skete; ˜ti oÈ dÊnasye ékoÊein tÚn lÒgon tÚn §mÒn. Again, note the possessive adjectives. Here the reader is further exposed to various vocabulary for that which proceeds from Jesus’ own mouth, namely, laliã and lÒgow, the distinction here implying that understanding the former depends upon hearing the latter. Jesus’ lÒgow is the central key for distinguishing insiders and outsiders, those who appear to believe (8:30) and those who do, in fact, understand and abide. Without it, one has nothing; with it, one lacks nothing. Jesus equates his own words with those of God when he accounts for the outsiders’ inability to hear (ékoÊv) his word with the fact

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that they themselves are not from God: ı Ãn §k toË yeoË tå =Æmata toË yeoË ékoÊei: diå toËto Íme›w oÈk ékoÊete, ˜ti §k toË yeoË oÈk §st° (8:47). The reader is now introduced to yet another expression for the word of Jesus or God, =∞ma. These Jews promptly accuse Jesus of having a demon. Why? Primarily because Jesus accuses them of “not being of God.” To tell a Jew, a member of God’s traditionally “chosen race,” that he or she is not of God would have struck Jesus’ hearers as both offensive and absurd. Equally absurd and offensive, however, would be to tell Jews, people preeminently defined as the recipients of Torah, that they do not hear the words of God. Only after proclaiming that “he who is of God hears God’s words” does Jesus classify the Jews as those who are outsiders, those who are not “of God.” If the reader is feeling bludgeoned by the singular centrality of Jesus’ word and words, expressed in triple variety, Jesus is not yet finished. He finally claims that observing his word leads to eternal life: émØn émØn l°gv Ím›n, §ãn tiw tÚn §mÚn lÒgon thrÆs˙, yãnaton oÈ mØ yevrÆs˙ efiw tÚn afi«na (8:51). As if Jesus has not already indicated the ultimate authority and status of his words, which are God’s own words, he applies a term normally used for Scripture, thr°v, to his own word and makes eternal life dependent upon observance of his word, again using the emphatic possessive adjective. There is a contest and contrast going on here between Jesus’ words which, when observed, give life, and the words of Scripture in which the Jews hope to find life (5:39). John signifies the moment of the statement by introducing it with émØn émÆn, a feature unique to the Fourth Gospel among  texts. In this battle of observing divine words and acquiring eternal life, the Jews adduce two preeminent examples from their Scripture, Abraham and the prophets, all of whom involved themselves heavily in observance of God’s word. The Jews pit these preeminent figures, Abraham, who was the first to observe God’s word, and the prophets, who devoted their lives to calling the Jews back to God’s word, against Jesus, who attempts to transfer their allegiance from “their law” to “his word;” they lose. Jesus is God’s word (1:1), he speaks God’s word (8:26, 28), and he himself “observes” God’s word: ÉEån §g∆ dojãsv §mautÒn, ≤ dÒja mou oÈd°n §stin: ¶stin ı patÆr mou ı dojãzvn me, ˘n Íme›w l°gete ˜ti yeÚw ≤m«n §stin, ka‹ o`Èk §gn≈kate aÈtÒn, §g∆ d¢ o‰da aÈtÒn. kín e‡pv ˜ti oÈk o‰da aÈtÒn, ¶somai ˜moiow Ím›n ceÊsthw: éllå o‰da aÈtÚn ka‹ tÚn lÒgon aÈtoË thr« (8:54–55).

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The intensity of this passage and the frequency of mention and emphasis upon Jesus’ word indicate that it was of special concern for the author. The passage probably reflects the experience of the author’s own community, which found itself in just such a debate with fellow Jews who were using Scripture to undermine the confidence of the Johannine community.127 But the author reassures the community by placing Jesus’ own words rather than Scripture at the center, so that the authority enjoyed by Scripture among the Jews is transferred to Jesus’ own words for the Johannine community. Hearing, believing, understanding, and observing Jesus’ words constitute the primary tasks of a Johannine Christian; when those have been accomplished, Scripture takes its rightful place as a “witness” to Jesus, nothing more, nothing less. This is a radical and unparalleled move among  authors, but entirely understandable when viewed in light of the sociology of sectarianism and the social function served by the use of Scripture therein. This is a group that has been cast out of the synagogue. In trying to form and sustain a sectarian group, the author is careful to maintain enough continuity with tradition to appeal to those of a Jewish background, and he uses Scripture to do so. Sociologically speaking, at some level the evangelist understood that one part of the process of producing the sacred is to attach his product to that already considered sacred. On the other hand, he also recognizes that he must create enough discontinuity to establish a separate identity. The author had to figure out how to draw strict boundaries between his group and the parent tradition given that “both sides in this controversy have used the same Scripture and similar traditions.”128 The author of John demotes the independent authority of Scripture and insists that only those who understand Jesus’ words have access to truth, life, and all of the rewards that only members of the Johannine sect enjoy. Continuing to follow John’s use of thr°v, we arrive at the Farewell Discourse and a cascade of coalescent significations regarding Jesus’ own words. At 14:15 the disciples are called to express their love of Jesus by observing (thr°v) not Jesus’ lÒgow, as above, but Jesus’ com-

127 In discussing chs. 7 and 8 Meeks writes: “Both are thus paradigms of Jesus’ statement on discipleship in 8:30–36, and at the same time, as Bultmann suggests, probably vignettes out of the life of the Johannine church in its relationship to a hostile Jewish community.” Prophet-King, 59. 128 Meeks, “Divine Agent,” 54.

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mandments (§ntolÆ): ÉEån égapçt° me, tåw §ntolåw tåw §måw thrÆsete. The sentiment is repeated in 14:21 with additional information provided, namely, that one first has to have (¶xv) the commandments before one can keep them. Clearly only those in the sect “have” Jesus’ commandments; they are not self-evident and they are not synonymous with Scripture (grafÆ) or the law (nÒmow). Jesus links keeping his commandments with receiving a revelation of him. Puzzled by this sectarian, exclusive notion, Judas (not Iscariot) asks Jesus to clarify matters regarding his revelation not to the world, but only to the insiders: KÊrie, [ka‹] t¤ g°gonen ˜ti ≤m›n m°lleiw §mfan¤zein seautÚn ka‹ oÈx‹ t“ kÒsmƒ; (v. 22); notice the placement of ≤m›n to emphasize the point. Jesus then, in effect, tells Judas that he heard him right the first time, that keeping Jesus’ word or commandment is the basis of membership among his disciples. In words almost identical to 14:15 and 14:21, Jesus says: ÉEãn tiw égapò me tÚn lÒgon mou thrÆsei , ka‹ ı patÆr mou égapÆsei aÈtÒn ka‹ prÚw aÈtÚn §leusÒmeya ka‹ monØn parÉ aÈt“ poihsÒmeya (v. 23). As in 8:51, the latter example enjoins observance of Jesus’ lÒgow rather than §ntolÆ, but the terms are virtually synonymous for John. So, John began at 14:15 by tying love of Jesus with observance of Jesus’ word/commandments. At 14:21 he adds that those who do observe his word demonstrate love for God as well; he also offers them the reward of his own presence. At 14:23 all of these elements are combined. At 14:24 the case is stated negatively such that absence of love for Jesus precludes keeping his words (lÒgoi); this is followed by a reminder that those words are not merely the human words of Jesus, but God’s very own words. Never in the Fourth Gospel is so much attention paid to the authority of Scripture; never are the words of Scripture designated the word(s) of God, as are Jesus’ own words. The reader may well feel that by the end of ch. 14 the author has exhausted the subject. But not so, as attention to chs. 15 and 17 will demonstrate.129 At 15:1 Jesus begins his monologue on the

129

Commentaries commonly point out that the main themes of ch. 14 are repeated and expanded in chs. 15–16, suggesting to some that we have two parallel formulations of a homiletic tradition in the Johannine groups. 18:1 follows naturally on 14:31. Barrett provides a synopsis of the solutions which have been offered regarding the problem of the relationship between chs. 15–17 and their literary context. He himself opines: “The most probable explanation is that in ch. 14 (or 13:31–14:31) and chs. 15–17 (16) we have alternative versions of the last discourse” ( John, 379–80). Cf. Meeks, “Man from Heaven,” 65.

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true vine and true branches in which he exhorts his disciples to “abide” (m°nv) in him and allow his words to abide in them (§ån me¤nhte §n §mo‹ ka‹ tå =Æmatã mou §n Ím›n me¤n˙, ˘ §ån y°lhte afitÆsasye, ka‹ genÆsetai Ím›n, 15:7) that they might bear fruit rather than be thrown into the fire. He announces that on account of the word (lÒgow) that he has spoken (lal°v) the disciples have been cleansed (kayarÒw; 15:3).130 Jesus’ words are efficacious for salvation. They provide entrance into the Johannine group. He then returns to his declamations concerning what it means to abide in Jesus and what rewards inhere in doing so. It involves abiding in his words (=Æmata, 15:7). This abiding (m°nv) in Jesus involves observing, not Scripture, not the law, but Jesus’ own words: §ån tåw §ntolãw mou thrÆshte, mene›te §n tª égãp˙ mou, kay∆w §g∆ tåw §ntolåw toË patrÒw mou tetÆrhka ka‹ m°nv aÈtoË §n tª égãp˙, 15:10). So, 15:1–10 spends considerable space attending to the requirements and rewards related to observing Jesus’ own word. The rewards comprise at least being cleansed, abiding in Jesus’ love, bearing much fruit, avoiding the fire, glorifying the Father, and having one’s every wish fulfilled. Scripture can offer nothing of the sort. Before leaving 15:10, it is worth noting that the disciples are to keep Jesus’ commandments just as Jesus himself has kept God’s commandments. This pattern of Jesus’ experiences mirrored in the experience of the disciples obtains throughout the Farewell Discourse (e.g., 13:16; 15:2, 20). Verse 15:20 coalesces language concerning Jesus’ own word: mnhmoneÊete toË lÒgou o §g∆ e‰pon Ím›n, OÈk ¶stin doËlow me¤zvn toË kur¤ou aÈtoË. efi §m¢ §d¤vjan, ka‹ Ímçw di≈jousin: efi tÚn lÒgon mou §tÆrhsan, ka‹ tÚn Ím°teron thrÆsousin. Earlier I discussed the three appearances of the verb mimnÆskomai and argued that the transferal of central authority from Scripture to Jesus’ own word could be followed in John’s usage of the term. Here John introduces another “memory” word (mnhmoneÊv), depicting Jesus as exhorting the disciples to remember what he said at the beginning of the Farewell Discourse where he called them to wash one another’s feet as he

130 kayarÒw appears only four times in the Fourth Gospel, once here and three times in ch. 13, where Jesus indicates that the disciples have become clean but that achieving cleanliness has nothing to do with water (13:10). Judas is the one exception, and his exclusion from the group and the stigma of his “outsider” nature is conveyed by his being called “not clean” (13:11).

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himself had done (13:16). 15:20b is stunning on two counts. First, once again, it is Jesus’ own word, not Scripture, which deserves “observance” (thr°v); second, the disciples are elevated to quite a lofty status such that if they observe Jesus’ word (lÒgow), then the world will observe the disciples’ word. mnhmoneÊv appears again at 16:4 where Jesus informs the disciples that he has foretold events so that when they occur, the disciples will remember his words. Scripture’s function has been completed. It has fulfilled its function by foretelling and witnessing to Jesus (unlike Matthew, who expects his community to maintain scriptural ethical regulations). Now that Jesus has come, his words replace Scripture in numerous ways (source of life, worthy of “observance”), one of those being foretelling future events. So, Scripture points to events that occur in the narrative, ca. 30 ..; Jesus’ words point to events that occur in the Johannine community, ca. 90 ..131 During Jesus’ final prayer, the author reiterates that observance of Jesus’ word constitutes the primary boundary marker between insider and outsider, disciple and “world.” Those who have been given to Jesus, that is, divinely elected, are precisely those who observe Jesus’/God’s word: ÉEfan°rvsã sou tÚ ˆnoma to›w ényr≈poiw oÓw ¶dvkãw moi §k toË kÒsmou. so‹ ∑san kémo‹ aÈtoÁw ¶dvkaw ka‹ tÚn lÒgon sou tetÆrhkan (17:6).132 pisteÊv

So far, by attending both to John’s overt and subtle language regarding Jesus’ own words, such as the use of mimnÆskomai, thr°v, mnhmoneÊv, and possessive adjectives, we have seen that Jesus’ own words (rendered variously by =∞ma, lÒgow, and taËta lelãlhka) enjoy sole authority, assuming characteristics usually reserved for Scripture. The author’s use of pisteÊv further substantiates this claim. A comparison with the Synoptics shows that pisteÊv counts as special Johannine vocabulary: it appears ninety-eight times in John; eleven times in Matthew; fourteen times in Mark; and nine times in Luke. John is the only evangelist who does not use p¤stiw.

131 The only other occurrence of mnhmoneÊv appears at 16:21 in reference to a mother no longer remembering the anguish produced by labor. 132 thr°v appears three more times in ch. 17, but with the meaning of “protect” (17:11, 12, 15).

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John uses the word in a number of ways. To give a brief overview, objects of belief include Jesus’ name,133 Jesus’ works, Jesus’ words, propositions about Jesus,134 Jesus himself, and God. Vehicles of belief include John the Baptist, Scripture, and Jesus’ word.135 First and foremost it refers to believing “in Jesus,”136 though occasionally it refers to Jesus in the form of the “Son”137 or the “light.”138 The reader is repeatedly reminded that receipt of eternal life and resurrection stand as a reward for those who believe in Jesus.139 Two of these passages deserve special mention. At 14:1 belief in Jesus is paralleled with belief in God: MØ tarass°syv Ím«n ≤ kard¤a: pisteÊete efiw tÚn yeÒn ka‹ efiw §m¢ pisteÊete.140 Of special interest for this project is 17:20 where Jesus expects the word (lÒgow) of the disciples to engender belief (pisteÊv) in him: OÈ per‹ toÊtvn d¢ §rvt« mÒnon, éllå ka‹ per‹ t«n pisteuÒntvn diå toË lÒgou aÈt«n efiw §m°. Earlier John drew parallels between God’s word, Jesus’ word, and the disciples’ word.141 In addition to believing in (efiw) Jesus, John can also speak of simply believing Jesus (pisteÊv plus the dative)142 just as he speaks of believing in (efiw) God143 and believing God.144 Believing in God is associated with hearing Jesus’ word, and both are necessary to escape judgment and death and receive eternal life: ÉAmØn émØn l°gv Ím›n ˜ti ı tÚn lÒgon mou ékoÊvn ka‹ pisteÊvn t“ p°mcant¤ me §xei zvØn afi≈nion ka‹ efiw kr¤sin oÈk ¶rxetai, éllå metab°bhken §k toË yanã-

133

1:12; 2:23. These propositions take the form pisteÊv + ˜ti + proposition and they appear at 6:69; 8:24; 11:27, 42; 13:19; 14:10; 16:27, 29; 17:8, 21; 20:31. Most refer to one of the following: Jesus as Messiah (11:27; 20:31), Jesus as sent by God (16:27, 29; 17:8, 21), or Jesus as “I am” (8:24; 13:19). 135 It may be argued that Jesus’ works belong here, but presently the concern is only with pisteÊv language that the author himself uses. 136 2:11; 3:15, 16, 18 (twice), 36; 4:39; 6:29, 35; 7:5, 31, 38, 39, 40, 48; 8:30, 31; 9:35, 36; 10:42; 11:25, 26, 45, 48; 12:11, 37, 42, 44 (twice), 46; 14:1; 16:9; 17:20. 137 3:16, 36; 6:40; 9:35. 138 12:36. 139 3:15; 6:40; 11:25. 140 Given John’s insistence on Jesus’ equality and unity with God (1:1; 10:30), perhaps this is an epexegetic ka¤ here. I have found no translation which treats it as such, however. 141 Parallels between God’s word and Jesus’ word: 8:26, 28, 47; parallels between Jesus’ word and the disciple’s word: 15:20. 142 4:21; 5:46; 6:30; 8:45, 46; 10:25, 37, 38; 14:11 (twice). 143 14:1. 144 5:24, 38. 134

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tou efiw tØn zvÆn (5:24). In 5:38 the author reverses the terms of

5:24 to indicate an interchangeability between belief in Jesus/belief in God and Jesus’ word/God’s word: ka‹ tÚn lÒgon aÈtoË oÈk ¶xete §n Ím›n m°nonta, ˜ti ˘n ép°steilen §ke›now, toÊtƒ Íme›w oÈ pisteÊete. The same interchangeability occurs with belief/work. At 10:38, for example, Jesus exhorts his audience at least to believe in the works of his Father which Jesus is doing so that they may know and understand that he and the Father are one. At 6:29 Jesus defines the “work of God” (tÚ ¶rgon toË yeoË), as “belief in Jesus.” The author often uses pisteÊv with no complement, and when he does so it almost always indicates belief in Jesus. This belief is defined in the first appearance of the word outside the Prologue where Nathaniel exclaims: ÑRabb¤, sÁ e‰ ı uflÚw toË yeoË, sÁ basileÁw e‰ toË ÉIsraÆl, and Jesus responds, ÜOti e‰pÒn soi ˜ti e‰dÒn se Ípokãtv t∞w suk∞w, pisteÊeiw; (1:49–50). It is this kind of belief that the author has in mind at 4:42, 48; 5:44; 6:36, 47, 64; 9:38, 10:26; 11:15, 40; 16:31; 20:8, 25, 29 (twice). As mentioned variously in this treatment of pisteÊv, in the Fourth Gospel Jesus’ word is inextricably bound up with belief. The relationships between belief and Jesus’ word and between belief and Scripture are of special importance for this project. The latter is treated first, as it is a briefer topic. Reference to belief in Scripture appears three times, at 2:22, 5:46, and 5:47. In 2:22, a passage previously visited, the reader is told that after the resurrection the disciples did three things: they remembered what Jesus had said, believed Scripture, and believed the word that Jesus had spoken: ˜te oÔn ±g°ryh §k nekr«n, §mnÆsyhsan ofl mayhta‹ aÈtoË ˜ti toËto §legen, ka‹ §p¤steusan tª grafª ka‹ t“ lÒgƒ ˘n e‰pen Ù ÉIhsoËw. The emphasis is on Jesus’ own spoken word, but Scripture is granted mention. The next reference to belief in Scripture appears in 5:45–47 where Jesus contends with Jewish opponents; the opponents in the narrative probably reflect the sect’s own Jewish opponents who appeal to Scripture to disprove Christianity. The text reads: 5:45 mØ doke›te ˜ti §g∆ kathgorÆsv Ím«n prÚw tÚn pat°ra: ¶stin ı kathgor«n Ím«n Mv#s∞w, efiw ˘n Íme›w ±lp¤kate. 5:46 efi går §pisteÊete Mv#se›, §pisteÊete ín §mo¤: per‹ går §moË §ke›now ¶gracen. 5:47 efi d¢ to›w §ke¤nou grãmmasin oÈ pisteÊete, p«w to›w §mo›w =Æmasin pisteÊsete;

This passage is part of a lengthy response on Jesus’ part to a question that is never asked. The reader is simply told in 5:15 that the man

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whom Jesus had healed on the sabbath had informed the Jews, and the Jews persecuted Jesus because he healed on the sabbath. All of this is narrated in third person. At 5:17 Jesus answers the unspoken accusation by saying that he and the Father are still working, and this answer, according to the narrator, incites the Jews to kill him not only for breaking the Sabbath but also for claiming to be equal to God. At 5:19 Jesus launches into his extended and varied response to these unspoken accusations. In 5:45–47, Jesus apparently responds to the Jews’ concern that he intends to accuse them before the Father. He retorts that Moses, not Jesus, is their accuser because Moses wrote about Jesus and they refuse to believe what Moses wrote. This response makes some sense at the narrative level insofar as the narrator plays with the issue of who is accusing whom. The Jews mutely accuse Jesus of breaking what Moses wrote insofar as Moses wrote that healing should not occur on the Sabbath, and Jesus has clearly healed on the Sabbath. Jesus merely bypasses any self-defense of the sort that appears in the Synoptics, where he presents a conundrum (Mark 3:4 and par.) or a proclamation regarding the sabbath (Mark 2:27 and par.), and instead turns the tables and accuses the Jews, not himself, of transgressing what Moses wrote by their disbelief in Jesus. The issue is once again belief in Jesus, and Scripture is used only as a pawn in the argument; it is merely a witness to Jesus’ identity, and once a person has been transported from disbelief to belief in Jesus, Scripture warrants no belief in itself. The function of Scripture as presented in 5:45–47 is analogous to that of John the Baptist. He is a vehicle that conveys a person to Jesus, but once the person has arrived at Jesus John recedes into the background, having accomplished all that he was meant to accomplish, such that he himself warrants no belief in himself. While Jesus’ diatribe regarding Scripture fits only loosely into the narrative, it would have fit perfectly into the struggles experienced by the Johannine community. I imagine the Johannine community presenting its case to fellow synagogue Jews only to be met with resistance from those Jewish brothers and sisters on the basis of Scripture itself. That Jesus transgressed the law of Moses by healing on the sabbath appears to be a well-established tradition, as it appears in all four Gospels, and it is not hard to imagine fellow Jews asking for an explanation from the Johannine community. The Jewish opponents use Scripture against the community and the community aims to turn the tables on the opponents. But rather than resorting

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to what would amount to a fairly weak argument from a Jewish perspective, namely, “we do not have to respect that law,” the community presents the importance of Scripture not in its harboring of numerous detailed laws, but only as witness to Jesus, nothing more. What the initiates already know is that, once a person has arrived at Jesus (i.e., joined their group), the words of Jesus, not the words of Scripture, function as the authoritative word for the community. Indeed, apart from 2:22 and the present passage, the reader hears nothing more about “believing scripture.” Jesus’ word, omnipresent in the Fourth Gospel, is to be believed. We have seen that belief entails the reward of resurrection and eternal life and escape from judgment and death. We have also seen overlap in John’s terminology such that “believe,” “believe Jesus,” and “believe in Jesus” are synonymous. Furthermore, belief in God and belief in Jesus are equivalent. Turning to belief in Jesus’ word, we arrive first at a familiar passage, 2:22, where the author makes a double proclamation concerning Jesus’ word: the disciples remembered it and believed it. There it is paralleled with Scripture. In 3:12 Jesus uses a qal vehomer argument centered on his word: efi tå §p¤geia e‰pon Ím›n ka‹ oÈ pisteÊete, p«w §ån e‡pv Ím›n tå §pourãnia pisteÊsete; Jesus has spoken earthly things and Nicodemus does not believe;145 therefore, Nicodemus cannot believe the heavenly things which Jesus would say. Verses 4:39–41 show the connection between the word Jesus’ followers and the word of Jesus himself. The Samaritan woman’s word, for example, was efficacious for belief: ÉEk d¢ t∞w pÒlevw §ke¤nhw pollo‹ §p¤steusan efiw aÈtÚn t«n Samarit«n diå tÚn lÒgon t∞w gunaikÚw

Jesus’ own word is not to be outdone, however. After the note about the Samaritan woman’s word, vv. 40–41 depict Jesus frequenting with the Samaritans with the result that ka‹ poll“ ple¤ouw §p¤steusan diå tÚn lÒgon aÈtoË. The author here manages to show how Jesus’ declaration in 15:20, which connects the power of his word

145 Narratively speaking, Jesus is talking to Nicodemus, but the author uses the plural, Ím›n, here. This, along with Jesus’ use of the first person plural in v. 11, may indicate that Jesus speaks on behalf of the Johannine community to Nicodemus, who represents the synagogue community against which the Johannine community is attempting to defend itself.

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with that of his followers, works in practice. Note the distinct parallels between the disciple’s (i.e., the Samaritan woman’s) activity and Jesus’ own. Lest the reader get carried away, however, and give too much credit to the disciple’s words, the author includes this: tª te gunaik‹ ¶legon ˜ti OÈk°ti diå tØn sØn laliån pisteÊomen: aÈto‹ går ékhkÒamen ka‹ o‡damen ˜ti otÒw §stin élhy«w ı svtØr toË kÒsmou (4:42).

The healing of the official’s son, 4:46–54, affords another look into the function of Jesus’ word in the Fourth Gospel. The pericope begins and ends with a reference to Jesus’ being in Galilee and performing signs there. Verse 46 mentions the first sign, the transformation of the water into wine, and v. 54 counts the healing of the official’s son, also performed in Galilee, as the second sign. The official approaches Jesus and begs for his help, to which Jesus responds by censuring belief (pisteÊv) which is based upon signs.146 The man seems to take no notice of Jesus’ remark and instead once again implores him to come. Jesus then speaks a word to the man, saying, “Go, your son will live.” The official ceases demanding action from Jesus, but believes Jesus’ word (§p¤steusen ı ênyrvpow t“ lÒgƒ ˘n e‰pen aÈt“ ı ÉIhsoËw) and departs. The official returns home to find his son healed. He asks the servants when the boy became well and, as it turns out, it had occurred upon Jesus’ speaking his word. The narrator says of the official: ¶gnv oÔn ı patØr ˜ti [§n] §ke¤n˙ tª Àr& §n √ e‰pen aÈt“ ı ÉIhsoËw, ÑO uflÒw sou zª, ka‹ §p¤steusen aÈtÚw ka‹ ≤ ofik¤a aÈtoË ˘lh. In depicting the official’s incipient belief, the narrator focuses on Jesus’ word, not the healing. It is not when he hears that his son is well that the official believes; rather, it is when he realizes that Jesus spoke his word at that hour. The man is attributed with belief twice in the pericope (4:50, 53); both occurrences center on Jesus’ spoken word. The pericope also proves another of Jesus’ contentions in the Fourth Gospel, namely, that life (zvÆ) is associated with Jesus’ word.

146 This view is corroborated by 20:29 where Jesus declares “blessed” (makãriow) those who believe without seeing. Referring to 2:4 and 2:23, Barrett ( John, 207) considers the present passage proof that for John “faith based on miracles . . . is inadequate.” Further, “the strong negation (oÈ mÆ with the subjunctive)” implies a rebuke. Fortna (Fourth Gospel, 62) also interprets Jesus’ words as a rebuke: “In response to the official’s plea for his son, Jesus suddenly addresses a nameless crowd and berates them for demanding dramatic evidence on which to base their faith.” Fortna treats the issue more fully in Part 2B: “Signs and Faith,” 235–50.

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The blurring of the boundary between Jesus and his words, between believing Jesus/believing in Jesus and believing Jesus’ word, is evident in a passage such as 11:25–26. There Jesus makes a proclamation concerning himself to Martha, implicitly inviting her to believe in him: ÉEg≈ efimi ≤ énãstasiw ka‹ ≤ zvÆ: ı pisteÊvn efiw §m¢ kín époyãn˙ zÆsetai, ka‹ pçw ı z«n ka‹ pisteÊvn efiw §m¢ oÈ mØ époyãn˙ efiw tÚn afi«na. Then he asks her, pisteÊeiw toËto; apparently indicating the words that he has just spoken. Martha replies affirmatively and additionally proclaims what she (and the author and the Johannine community) assumes is meant by Jesus’ word, namely, ˜ti sÁ e‰ ı XristÚw ı ufiÚw toË yeoË ı efiw tÚn kÒsmon §rxÒmenow. It is appropriate in this context to mention 5:47 again. There Jesus debates the Jews. His point is not that Scripture deserves their belief. Scripture is used merely to show how far from believing in him the Jews remain. It is a qal vehomer argument reminiscent of or identical to the argument about Jesus’ own word in ch. 3. There the move was from earthly things (tå §p¤geia) as the lesser to heavenly things (tå §pourãnia) as the greater, just as in ch. 5 the move is from Scripture as the lesser to Jesus’ words as the greater. In and of themselves, neither earthly things nor Scripture hold any great value. Emphasis is placed on the latter term in each equation and, since it is the loftier, it is simply logical that if they cannot even grasp the former, they certainly cannot grasp the latter. A very interesting coalescing of Jesus’ word, belief in Jesus, Scripture, and the situation of the late first-century Johannine community appears at 12:38–39 where, after Jesus has spoken in an attempt to make manifest his identity to the crowd, the reader learns that oÈk §p¤steuon efiw aÈtÒn. This fact is explained by Isaiah 53:1. The question is, whose report (ékoÆ) is not believed? Given the immediate narrative context, the answer must be Jesus’ own report. This aligns with the earlier observation that “believing in Jesus” can be synonymous with “believing in Jesus’ word.” Given the historical context, the answer is that the Jews who have the law (12:34) do not believe the report of the Johannine community, which attempts to convince the Jews of Jesus’ identity. The Johannine community’s experience validates what Jesus predicts in the narrative—that the world will treat the disciples’ words just as they treated Jesus’ own. One feature associated with Scripture but taken up and taken over by Jesus’ own word is that of “fulfillment.” In 13:18 Jesus quotes a scriptural passage that he expects to be fulfilled. But the next verse

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offers the final word on the subject, and it is Jesus’ word: épÉ êrti l°gv Ím›n prÚ toË gen°syai, ·na pisteÊshte ˜tan g°nhtai ˜ti §g≈ efimi. It is Jesus’ word that will evoke their belief in him as God (rendered here as §g≈ efimi); this indeed happens in 2:22 and 12:16. The same predictive technique on Jesus’ part appears in 14:29: ka‹ nËn e‡rhka Ím›n pr‹n gen°syai, ·na ˜tan g°nhtai pisteÊshte. Belief depends upon Jesus’ word. Scripture may help that process, as it does for the disciples (2:22, 2:17) and the Johannine community, which has seen Jesus’ words, such as that spoken in 13:18 and 14:29, realized. Scripture may hinder the process of belief, as it does for the Jews in the story (e.g., 5:39, 47; 7:42; 10:22–39; 12:34, etc.). Scripture’s word without Jesus’ is ineffective; Scripture’s significance obtains only when mediated through an understanding of Jesus’ own words. For those who stand outside the sect, that is, those who do not have access to an understanding of Jesus’ own word, Scripture is a hindrance and a stumbling block. If Scripture is defined as the authoritative word that functions as a cohesive center from which a community takes its identity and conducts its discussions, its preaching, and the content of belief, then it is Jesus’ word, not Scripture, which functions scripturally. Jesus wrangles with the Pharisees over Scripture in chs. 5–10, reflecting the tension between John’s community and the parent tradition to which the Scriptures originally belonged. The real transfer of power from Scripture to Jesus’ words is seen in chs. 13–17, the Farewell Discourse. This reflects John’s internal concerns, that is, the formation of group identity and validation. All of this is placed in the overarching framework of the authority of Jesus’ own words as the hermeneutical lens for interpreting Scriptures correctly. In Bainbridge’s scheme, Jesus’ word is the absorbing state par excellence.147

147 Some of the conclusions reached above regarding the special function served by Jesus’ words in the Fourth Gospel are corroborated by Brakke. Unlike the present study, Brakke’s work centers not on Jesus’ words vis-à-vis Scripture but rather a comparison between how Jesus’ parable and plain speech function as social boundary markers for the Fourth Gospel community and the community of the Apocryphon of James. Like Wuthnow, Brakke (“Parables”) is interested in the way language is used to effect inclusion or exclusion. Brakke finds John achieving this by distinguishing between insiders, for whom Jesus’ speech is “plain,” and outsiders, for whom Jesus’ speech remains obscure.

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Allusions In addition to the direct citations, the Fourth Gospel contains many scriptural allusions. While I have addressed all of the direct citations, I have mentioned only a few of the allusions. In the initial stages of the project, I intended to include allusions as well. In the end, I decided against doing so for two reasons. First, and most importantly, while the details of the exploration that be fascinating, the results would merely validate my conclusions regarding social function rather than add substantially to those conclusions. This has proven to be the case with those allusions that I have attended to. For example, recall the treatment of 7:37, which alludes to Isa 55:1; or the Bread from Heaven Discourse, which alludes heavily to the  manna traditions; or the allusion in John 3:14–15 to Moses’ lifting up the serpent in the wilderness. In each case, I argued that the allusions serve a social function. There are two main problems when addressing allusions in the Fourth Gospel. First, how do we determine whether or not the author is alluding to an  text? In Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul, Hays mentions various categories of scriptural usage including direct citation with an introductory formula, direct citation without an introductory

In the wake of a traumatic separation from the Jewish synagogues, the Fourth Gospel makes the transition from obscurity to perspicuity in Jesus’ sayings the result, first, of a certain understanding of the crucifixion and, second, of a willingness to take on a sectarian social identity determined by that understanding (191). The Fourth Gospel was written at a time when Christians still defined themselves with respect to the Jewish communities from which they took their origin. Their written Scripture was the , but an emerging class of writers within the Johannine circles had begun to collect and organize the community’s traditions of Jesus sayings. At this time understanding Jesus’ teachings as a whole was at issue: for outsiders, Jesus’ teachings were enigmatic parables, but for those who had come to see the crucified Jesus as “the Holy One of God,” these teachings were plain speech. In the Fourth Gospel, the same words of Jesus could be either “parables” or “plain speech,” the distinction between the two being more the hermeneutical and social location of the hearer/reader than the precise mode of Jesus’ speech. This newfound clarity in Jesus’ speech came at the cost of social alienation and rejection, but this experience was itself seen as confirmation of one’s solidarity with the Son of Man, who had equally been rejected by his own people. The oral and written Scripture of Jesus’ teachings was a tool for the Johannine Christians’ self-definition with respect to their former religious home, the Jewish synagogue (218).

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formula, allusions, and echoes. During an analysis of Phil 1:19, he writes: “In this case, in fact, the volume of the echo is so slight that it should probably not be understood as carrying any allusive force at all. The echo, if echo it is, is only a cadence in Paul’s ears, perhaps subliminally recalled by his evocation of Job but creating no semantic link between the earlier text and the later.”148 The second problem is the sheer volume of allusions in the Fourth Gospel. NA26 finds allusions to at least 217  texts. While it has almost certainly omitted some and probably included some that do not belong, the fact of volume still remains. And that number does not even include other levels of allusion, such as the literary structure of a text, such as John 6 as homiletical midrash or the Farewell Discourse as testamentary literature. Scholars devote articles, even entire monographs, to a single allusion or cluster of allusions. For instance, Borgen’s Bread from Heaven treats allusive material from John 6:31–58. Meeks’s article, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” addresses John’s allusion to Jacob’s ladder as it appears in John 1:51; in The Prophet-King, Meeks investigates John’s presentation of Jesus’ as “prophet” and “king,” and argues that the “peculiar combination of the two figures was connected with traditions about Moses.”149 In “Der Erstgeborene Satans und der Vater des Teufels (Polyk. 7,1 und Joh 8.44),” Dahl contends that John 8:44 alludes to Gen 4. For these reasons, I deemed it unwise to attempt a systematic analysis of John’s  allusions. I do, however, want to take the opportunity to summarize what I have implied during my study about the power of allusive language. First, allusions signify the author’s own view of Scripture as the mold into which contemporary experiences somehow fit. Second, the use of allusions presumes knowledge on the part of the audience.150 Allusions require more sophistication on the part of the audience than do proof-texts. Third, by allusions the

148

Hays, 24. Meeks, Prophet-King, 286. 150 “[T]he Fourth Gospel depends for its understanding upon the recognition that its author is moving within the orbit of historical tradition, a tradition with which he presumes his readers to be at least generally familiar.” Edwyn Clement Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel (ed. Francis Noel Davey; London: Faber and Faber, 1947), 59, quoted in Meeks, Prophet-King, 4. 149

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author teaches the audience to understand their world in scriptural terms; in sociological terms, this falls under the “production of worldview.” Allusion serves the same social function as all insider language— it creates a bond among the sectarians and between the sectarians and the author. As Jerry Falwell knew well, placing his financial campaign into the biblical context of Joshua narrative had far more emotional power than merely requesting money to establish a new school. Speaking in such terms convinces the community that they are part of the unfolding drama between God and humanity, which began thousands of years ago. The community becomes part of something larger than itself, the mundane and petty details of its own situation are transcended and given significance by association with the scriptural story. To become a Branch Davidian under the leadership of Vernon Howell may be significant; to become a member of the true Israel under the leadership of God’s messiah, Cyrus (Koresh), may be worth dying for. To join a small group of iconoclastic Jews operating under the name of a crucified criminal may demand some sacrifice; to become a true Israelite who follows God’s only begotten Son, God Godself, the one whom Moses himself wrote about in Scripture, demands full commitment in the face of inevitable persecution. Philip Davies understands the power of allusion: This state of affairs is misconceived if CD is dismissed as a mere ‘mosaic’ of quotations to which no evidential value may be attached. There are certainly numerous examples of biblical phraseology which must be regarded as unconsidered and even as only part of the author’s own biblically saturated vocabulary. But the cumulative force of the numerous quotations and allusions amounts to a statement that the ‘plot’ of CD can be read in the Bible: the community, the time in which it lives, its laws, everything is anticipated, described, regulated in the Bible. The conclusion is forced upon one that not only is the Bible used by the community to present its appeal, but also that it was in the Bible in the first place that the community found its identity.151

151

Davies, “Eschatology,” 55.

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Charting Results How Scripture Functions in the Johannine Sect A. BREAKING AWAY: CREATING AND DEGRADING “THEM” 2:17–18; 10:22–39; 12:38ff.; 15:25 B. FORMATION OF SECT 1. Etiology: celebrate origins of the community; ground community in the past 12:13–15 2. Show sect’s founder to have special insight regarding Scripture 11:22–39; 13:18; 15:25; 19:28 3. Defining and elevating “us” a. Those who receive revelation through “remembrance” 2:22; 12:13–15; 13:18; 15:25 b. Those who see, know, understand, believe; those who “get” the author’s irony: 7:37ff. C. CREATING A DISTINCT WAY OF LIFE 1. Ethical behavior 2. Ritual practice 3. Language and rhetoric 2:22; 7:37ff.; 10:22–39; 12:13–15; 12:38ff.; 13:18; 15:25 4. Use of sacred texts a. The sectarian community as Scripture’s telos 1:23; 2:17; 12:13–15; 12:38–40; 13:18; 15:25; 19:24, 36, 37 b. Scripture validates the sect’s views 7:38–39 5. Roles of authoritative leaders a. John the Baptist: important but subordinate to Jesus 1:23 b. Jesus 1. The leader is righteous, chosen by God, admirable 2:17; 10:22–39; 12:13, 15

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2. Unjustly persecuted 10:22ff.; 15:25 3. Privy to special insight 10:22; 13:18; 15:25 4. Warrants fidelity and belief; salvation depends on one’s stance towards him 12:38ff. 6. Definition of the future D. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM THE PARENT TRADITION 1. Named Opponents 10:22–39; 13:18; 15:25; 19:24, 28, 36, 37 2. Those who break Scripture or fail to understand it 2:17–18; 5:39ff., 10:22–39 E. OPPOSITION FROM WITHIN THE SECT: DEALING WITH DEFECTION 1. Reward adherence to the sect ch. 6; 12:38ff. 2. Castigate potential and actual deserters 13:18; 12:38ff. F. OPPOSITION TO AND FROM WITHOUT 12:38ff.; 15:25 G. JUDGMENT AGAINST OPPONENTS Jesus’ word, not Scripture, is used for this in the Fourth Gospel (see 5:24) H. GROWING THE SECT 1. Proselytizing 2. The next generation The next chapter summarizes the results of this study.

CHAPTER SIX

CONCLUSIONS

No one, of course, is in a position to write an empirical sociology of Johannine Christianity. Wayne Meeks, “Man from Heaven”

Having studied each sect using the model presented in chapter two, I now draw conclusions about the Fourth Gospel.

Formation of the Sect It is possible to detect the beginnings of the Qumran, Branch Davidian, and Johannine communities by attending closely to their texts. The author of the Fourth Gospel does not overtly narrate the historical emergence of his sect. The Johannine community as reflected in the Fourth Gospel appears to have begun as a movement within the parent tradition, some form of Judaism. As defined by the social scientists consulted in this study, the community of the Fourth Gospel as well as those of Qumran and the Branch Davidians are denominated sects rather than cults because they emerged from a schism, they stood in conscious opposition to the parent tradition, they had minority status within its culture, and they were exclusive. At some point the Johannine Christians who worshiped with their fellow Jews began to make proclamations concerning Jesus’ identity that were no longer tolerated by the parent tradition and resulted in the expulsion of Christians from the synagogue.1 Like the Qumranians and the Branch Davidians, the Johannine Christians all considered themselves the pure and legitimate form of the tradition of which they were a part, so that the author of the Fourth Gospel can have Jesus say: “If you believed Moses, you would believe me” (5:46). As Meeks writes of the Fourth Gospel community: 1 For two presentations of the emergence of the sect based on textual clues, see Brown, Community and Martyn, History.

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What drove the Johannine Christians to make just these connections, in the face of the social pain that it obviously cost them? We must remember that the social pain was but the negative side of the process by which they had become a distinctive community. . . . In this Gospel, “abiding” in the truth about Jesus has positive and negative social dimensions: It entails stalwart “love” for fellow disciples of Jesus and brave separation from those who reject him. The claim that constitutes the identity of this special group of former Jews is that in their abiding in the Son of Man they have been granted what the whole of Israel’s Scripture and tradition— both Jewish and Samaritan versions—pointed to. . . . They alone are Israel. . . . They are epitomized in one of the first of those “given by God” to Jesus, Nathanael the élhy«w ÉIsrahl¤thw. Here we have the very model of a sectarian consciousness. To “Pharisees” and to ordinary Jews of all kinds, as the narrative makes clear, these claims did not fulfill but rather subverted the classical Scripture and traditions. These [Christological] claims broke the community with other Jews by their audacity, their exclusiveness, and their persistence; they constituted blasphemy. Smarting from the forced separation, the circle of the Beloved Disciple exulted in this subversion, which became the principle literary strategy of the Fourth Evangelist (my italics).2

The leaders of the groups did not set out to form a separate religion; they simply wanted reform. As a modern analogue, one might look to Max Weber’s contention regarding the emergence of Methodism: Methodism, which first arose in the middle of the eighteenth century within the Established Church of England, was not, in the minds of its founders, intended to form a new Church, but only a new awakening of the ascetic spirit within the old. Only in the course of its development, especially in its extension to America, did it become separate from the Anglican Church (my italics).3

Both the Branch Davidians and the Johannine sectarians were rejected by their parent traditions, the former being excised from the church rolls and the latter being expelled from the synagogue. In depicting the emergence of the groups, the authors show the superiority of those who opted for the sect and the ignorance or wickedness of those who did not. They use Scripture, in part, to achieve this aim. So Koresh, interpreting the various epochs he finds in Revelation, speaks of “movements that failed to progress” as opposed to his group, which has “present truth.” The Qumran literature refers to the schism numerous times. 1QpHab, for example, 2

Ibid., 318–19. Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (trans. Talcott Parsons; New York: Scribner, 1958), 95; quoted in Bainbridge, Sociology, 71. 3

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interprets Hab 1:13b, “Why do you stare, traitors, and remain silent when a wicked person consumes someone more upright than himself ?” as referring to the men who failed to defend the Teacher of Righteousness against the Man of Lies. The Fourth Gospel describes those against whom the sect emerged in terms diametrically opposed to those assigned to the sectarians: the persecutors hate, the sectarians love; the persecutors traffic in death, the sectarians in life; the persecutors have the devil as their father, the sectarians God. For the sectarians, Scripture is a tool for legitimating their own emergence and downplaying their relative newness by grounding the groups solidly in the past as represented by Scripture. Koresh says “From Enoch all the way down to 1844, the judgment of the dead, all those messages are contained in Ellen G. White.”4 CD 3:20ff. depicts the sectarians as the priests, Levites, and sons of Zadok found in Ezek 44:15. According to Campbell, “The biblical verse, featuring the qwdx ynb once more, is used to prove that the community was raised up to inherit the covenantal promises.”5 In the Fourth Gospel, when Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey, he does not inspire an upstart new religion; rather he shows himself to be the one about whom Scripture testified long ago. In distinguishing themselves from their parent traditions, all three groups wrest Scripture away from their opponents by showing the groups’ founders and leaders to have special insight regarding Scripture. CD 6:7–11, for example, takes Isa 54:16 as a reference to the sect’s leader, without whom Scripture cannot be understood and the law properly observed. Koresh allows that all of the group’s leaders, as the various angels spoken of in Revelation, have had special insight regarding Scripture, but usually he emphasizes their contribution to one or another particular part of Scripture; he alone, as the last in the line of Branch Davidian leaders, has thorough insight into all of Scripture. The Fourth Gospel depicts Jesus as the figure who truly understands the meaning of all Scripture (e.g., 13:18; 15:25). Finally, in the formation of the sects, Scripture is used by all three groups to define and elevate the insiders. The Branch Davidians relied heavily on this technique: they are the “true Israel,” “those who believe in the Word,” “the remnant,” “wave sheaf,” and “first fruits.” The Qumranians are those who keep God’s commandments, 4 5

Koresh, Judge. Campbell, Use, 83.

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even in hardship (1QpHab 5:5–6 interpreting Hab 1:12–13). They are an elect group (e.g., CD 8:14–18 interpreting Deut 9:5); an honest, faithful group (cf. 4QMMT 8–9); a persevering group (1QpHab 7:10–11); a privileged group (cf. CD 6:2–7); and a group affording access to salvation (cf. 1QpHab 8:2). The Fourth Gospel sectarians are those who receive revelation through remembrance (2:2; 12:13–15; 13:18; 15:25); they are those who see, know, understand, and believe.

Creating a Distinct Way of Life Ethical Behavior Both the Qumran and Branch Davidian communities appealed to Scripture in shaping their ethical lives. As a halakic treatise, 4QMMT overtly treats ethical issues ranging from the proper treatment of lepers to proper marriage practices. But both CD and 1QpHab also show some interest in associating ethical directives with Scripture. CD, for example, offers rules governing monetary and social life, eating, and observing holy days (6:11–19). 1QpHab approximates the Fourth Gospel more closely: if this were the only text available from Qumran, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to delineate any specific ethical regulations. The author alludes only generally to observance of the law (1QpHab 5:5; 7:10–11; 8:1). Genre, then, may account in part for whether a text bothers with concrete ethical exhortation. Like the Qumranians, the Branch Davidians lived a communal life hemmed in by distinctive and strict regulations regarding food, dress, and sexual relationships. While Koresh does associate ethics with Scripture in the extensive materials surveyed, he does so only seldom and briefly. How can I explain this? First, it is important to recognize that both the Qumran and Branch Davidian communities used many texts as authoritative and no one text presents a complete picture of the group’s character. Second, as the sociologists of religion have reminded us, the group itself provides the crucible for a member’s formation. How does this illuminate the Fourth Gospel which, in fact, never associates an ethical commandment with Scripture? First, one must attend to genre. Unlike, say, 4QMMT, the Fourth Gospel does not have halakic rulings as its primary purpose.6 Second, a text such as 6

As Meeks notes, “[T]he Fourth Gospel meets none of our expectations about

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1QpHab does not provide specific ethical regulations; however, it is well known that the community from which it stems practiced specific ethical regulations. Likewise, numerous Koresh tapes make no mention of specific ethical regulations; however, it is well known that the community practiced specific ethical regulations. Therefore, to opine that a community lacks concern for specific ethical practices simply because a particular text does not evince them is to use faulty logic. In addition to the texts studied here, both the Branch Davidian and Qumran communities possessed other texts which supplied numerous ethical directives. Furthermore, both communities, as sects, provided an especially close and strong group that could serve as what Wuthnow calls a “crucible” for formation. One should not, therefore, underestimate the possibilities that (a) the Fourth Gospel community possessed other texts aimed more directly at ethical regulations and (b) as a sect, the group itself provided a crucible for transferring the group’s ethical convictions to its members. Writing about the Fourth Gospel, Meeks echoes Wuthnow: This Gospel does not provide moral instruction, as we have observed, nor does its narrative directly model character to be emulated. Nevertheless, it presents, in the story of Jesus’ mission and the mystery of discipleship, the mirror of a community that has been formed in the crucible of conflict. We know nothing about that community except what we can deduce from this document. Yet we may surmise, from the shape of the narrative itself and from Jesus’ instructions to those who believe, a set of attitudes toward the world and a pattern of behavior that govern this community and which the evangelist wants to reinforce.7

Third, both the Branch Davidian and Qumran communities broke from a parent tradition, and both derived much of their ethical systems from that parent tradition. As discussed in chapter two, while sects are involved in the creation of something distinct from the parent tradition, they nevertheless continue to be tied to it. Swidler argues that even those in unsettled lives marked by a high ideology period tacitly draw on existing cultural assumptions from the larger culture: “[A]t least at their origins, such ideological movements are not complete cultures, in the sense that much of their taken-for-granted understanding the way ethics should be constructed. If, after all, it has some moral lesson to teach us or some ethical challenge to offer, then we must first submit to its own idiom and the coercive voices of its narrator and its protagonist.” “The Ethics of the Fourth Evangelist,” in Exploring the Gospel of John (ed. R. Alan Culpepper and C. Clifton Black; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 320. 7 Ibid., 322.

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of the world and many of their daily practices still depend on traditional patterns.”8 The Fourth Gospel community, therefore, probably depended in part on ethics drawn from the parent tradition, though to what extent it is impossible to say. Fourth, it should not be assumed that the Fourth Gospel community had no explicit ethical regulations but only that Scripture was not invoked to promulgate them. The author of the Fourth Gospel differs in this regard from many  authors. For example, when Paul informs the Corinthians that apostles have a right to be paid he bases his argument on Deut 25:4: §n går t“ Mv#s°vw nÒmƒ g°graptai, OÈ khm≈seiw boËn élo«nta. mØ t«n bo«n m°lei t“ ye“ µ diÉ ≤mçw pãntvw l°gei; diÉ ≤mçw gãr §grãfh ˜ti Ùfe¤lei §pÉ §lp¤di ı érotri«n érotriçn ka‹ ı élo«n §p’ §lp¤di toË met°xein. efi ≤me›w Ím›n tå pneumatikå §spe¤ramen, m°ga efi ≤me›w Ím«n tå sarkikå yer¤somen; (1Cor. 9:9–11). Matthew, Mark, Luke,

Paul, and James all consider Lev 19:18 a basis for ethical behavior. John does not use scriptural citations to exhort his audience to particular behavior. In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus’ words, not Scripture, provide the basis upon which the reader is called to observe commandments (§ntolÆ), Jesus’ commandments. Jesus’ words function as the ultimate authority for the Fourth Gospel. In referring to those commandments (13:34; 14:15, 21; 15:10, 12), the author approximates 1QpHab’s habit of referring to “observing the law” only a few times and then only generally.9 Conclusions regarding Johannine ethics are twofold then. First, by analogy with Qumran and the Branch Davidians, it is reasonable to wager that the Johannine sect did, in fact, possess and promulgate strict ethical regulations. Second, the Fourth Gospel itself does not use Scripture to accomplish that end. Ritual Practice I would expect to find ritual practices among all sectarian groups, given Swidler’s proposition that “when people are learning new ways of organizing individual and collective action, practicing unfamiliar habits until they become familiar, then doctrine, symbol, and ritual

8

Swidler, “Culture,” 279. The only “specific” commandment which Jesus gives, to love one another ( John 13:34), is not particularly specific. 9

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directly shape action.”10 The Qumran materials studied, especially 4QMMT, do rely on Scripture for ritual prescriptions. CD, for example, draws on Mal 1:10 to exhort the sectarians “to keep the sabbath day according to its exact interpretation, and the festivals and the day of fasting, according to what was discovered (axm) by those who entered the new covenant (hçdjh tyrbh) in the land of Damascus (qçmd)” (CD 6:18–19). Koresh also uses Scripture to call for quotidian bible study, “Levitical feasts,” and proper Sabbath observance. In interpreting Revelation 10:6, for example, he declares: “This is the God of Sabbath. The Sabbath, the fourth commandment of God, contains the sign and the seal that those who worship on that day worship not a god, but the living God of creation.”11 The Fourth Gospel does not use Scripture to enjoin the audience to any particular rituals.12

Loci of Authority Scripture Why should the author of the Fourth Gospel, as a leader trying to establish his group over against the Jewish parent tradition, rely upon Scripture at all? Because given a society that has traditionally associated the sacred with certain religious institutions, a congregation can take advantage of that situation by tying itself to such institutions. Furthermore, one must remember that the earliest Johannine sectarians were Jews and Samaritans. Sectarians, who by definition find themselves in an “unsettled” position, still depend on some traditional patterns even in their formation of a new culture. Scripture is far less elevated in the Fourth Gospel than among the Branch Davidians and Qumranians. A strong central identity marker for both the Branch Davidian and Qumran groups is their being “bible-believers.” Koresh always ostensibly positions Scripture 10

Swidler, “Culture,” 278. Koresh, The Seventh. 12 The only possible exception to this claim may be the Bread Discourse in ch. 6 where the exhortation on the part of the crowd to have Jesus match the manna miracle turns into what appears to be a eucharistic matter. There is a long history of debate regarding ch. 6 as evidence for eucharistic practices. Frances Moloney presents his own view but also a useful, concise survey of the topic in “A Sacramental Reading of John 13:1–38,” CBQ 53 (1991): 237–56. See also John M. Perry, “The Evolution of the Johannine Eucharist,” NTS 39 (1993): 22–35. 11

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above himself; this is not so for Jesus in the Fourth Gospel. For the Branch Davidians, Scripture serves as the center around which the group gathers and acts and as the primary cultural repertoire that the group uses to view the world. It is presented as the inviolable source of all truth. This is simply not the case for the Johannine community either on the ostensible or the actual level. That is to say, the Fourth Gospel does not exhort the disciples to know and understand Scripture nor to observe the ethical regulations written therein. And certainly, unlike the Branch Davidians, salvation does not depend upon one’s knowledge of Scripture. Koresh says: Let’s look into the book of Joel and see what wisdom God has placed there that we might understand these things; as God has given each messenger a portion of the truth we must harmonize each prophecy of the bible that we may know the whole truth and be prepared to be delivered, because we are written in the book. If we are the ones who fulfill prophecy in these days then it is God who has spoken of us long ago that through the writings of the prophets God may foreknow us by the spirit of prophecy. If we do not fulfill God’s word we are not written in this book, but if we fulfill that which is written we are in God’s book as a surety, we are children of light.13

And again: “How did Christ overcome? Well, I know one thing— Christ overcame through Scripture.”14 This is not the sentiment expressed in the Fourth Gospel. Unlike the Branch Davidian community, for the Johannine community Scripture and truth are not coextensive. Rather, it is Jesus’ own word(s) and his words alone that serve this function for the Johannine group. In the Fourth Gospel, Scripture does have a function but not a unique one: it serves merely as a “witness” or “signpost on the way” to Jesus, much as John the Baptist and Jesus’ works do; once a person arrives at belief in Jesus, Scripture has no remaining power. Tabor says of Koresh and his followers: “[They] lived within a coded world of biblical language that created for them a sacred context they perceived to be concrete, systematic, and reliable. Those ‘outside’ had few, if any, clues to comprehending this world, so that the most technical and vital aspects of the group’s understanding of Scripture simply became ‘mumbo jumbo’ and ‘Bible babble.’ ”15 While also true of the Fourth Gospel’s use of Scripture, Tabor’s observation would apply more readily to 13 14 15

Koresh, Letter to Steve. Koresh, Radio Sermon. Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 52.

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the Johannine situation if we replaced “Scripture” with “Jesus’ own words.” Jesus’ word serves as an absorbing state for the group. For the sectarians, Scripture corroborates what Jesus said and did, nothing more, nothing less. It is a tool in the repertoire, but Jesus is key. It only witnesses to Jesus; it is not a source of ethics or dogma as it is for Matthew and Paul. As a cultural tool, however, it is useful for battling the opponents who are well-versed in Scripture and are wielding it as a weapon of destruction, trying to undermine the validity of the community. John 6 demonstrates that the opponents were somewhat successful. Direct citation of Scripture figures prominently in the retelling of both the Branch Davidians’ and the Qumran sect’s history. Scripture functions proleptically, prospectively, and retrospectively. Scripture adumbrates the group’s history, so the group can look back in Scripture and find itself there; but the group also continues to be shaped in light of what it finds there. The Fourth Gospel makes the same moves. The issue of genre, however, must always be kept in mind when comparing the two. Koresh overtly narrates the history of his own group; the author of the Fourth Gospel does so only indirectly. Where an explicit one-to-one correlation is made, it will, for narrative purposes, have to be between Scripture and those active in the Johannine story ca. 30 ..; the relationship between 30 .. and the late first century group must be extrapolated from that. Whereas Koresh uses Scripture heavily in regard to both himself and the community, most of the one-to-one correlations in the Fourth Gospel apply to Jesus (one applies to Judas) rather than the Johannine community’s various historical stages. A third salient feature of the use of direct scriptural citations by the Branch Davidians and the Qumran community (especially Pesher Habakkuk) does not occur in the Fourth Gospel, namely, Scripture used as an excuse to rehearse the group’s history. Often, Koresh ostensibly is concerned merely with elucidating a particular biblical passage, but actually manages to use the opportunity to rehearse the group’s history. This is a brilliant and powerful move for any leader of a fledgling sect trying to establish an identity for the group. Again, one is reminded of Wuthnow’s argument concerning the powerful effect actualized through the narration and celebration of a group’s history.16 John does not use this technique heavily. Again, the genre is not especially suited for such unless the author wants to employ allegory 16

Wuthnow, Producing the Sacred, 61.

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that is then transparent to the sect members, as occurs in Matt 22, Mark 4, and perhaps John 10 and 15. He certainly does not use allegory in the way Paul does in Galatians 4, which belongs to the epistolary genre. All three groups clearly view themselves as Scripture’s telos. Recall Koresh’s contention: “The sixth seal is our period of time. You know that. Doesn’t take a nit-wit to know those kind of things.”17 The author of 1QpHab expresses the same view when he says: “And God told Habakkuk to write what was going to happen to the last generation, but he did not let him know the consummation of the era” (1QpHab 7:1–2). At numerous places in his Gospel the author of John expresses this conviction as well. For example, in 12:13–15 he uses Scripture to show why the present opponents of Jesus behave as they do and presents it as if it were written solely for that occasion. Scripture can be viewed as having a double meaning so that it applies not only to the past but also to the contemporary group’s situation. What Tabor and Gallagher say about the Branch Davidian methodology also holds true for the fulfillment quotations in the Fourth Gospel: “Even in cases where a text had an obvious historical fulfillment or point of reference, it could always have a ‘double’ hidden meaning, revealed only through the ‘spirit of prophecy.’ ”18 Finally, all three sects use Scripture to validate their own views. This use of Scripture is often at work when one finds the formula “as it is written.” For example, 4QMMT appeals thus to Lev 22:28 regarding eating a fetus: “And concerning eating a fetus: we are of the opinion that the fetus found in its dead mother’s womb may be eaten only after it has been ritually slaughtered. And you know that it is so, namely that the ruling refers to (bwtk) a pregnant animal” B 37–38 (GM 40–41). For a Johannine example, the author uses this technique, among other places, at 7:38–39 to express the group’s convictions regarding the Holy Spirit. Roles of Authoritative Leaders The Johannine community differs from the Branch Davidian community with regard to former leaders. David Koresh was viewed as the last in a long line of inspired prophets divinely appointed who enjoyed special insight, visions, and revelations and propounded what was known as “present truth,” a continual unfolding and further 17 18

Koresh, What is Truth? Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 36.

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revelation of the truth. As the last in that line Koresh enjoyed a certain preeminence over the other six, so much so that he can say, “You reject Cyrus [referring to himself ], you reject God.”19 But two observations must be made. First, such a statement by Koresh is rare and it is only in the very late years of his ministry that he ascribed such a lofty position to himself. Second, Koresh confers the honor of prophet upon his predecessors, whereas the author of the Fourth Gospel lends attention and honor to only one leader, Jesus. The author declares: “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known” ( John 1:18). So important is Jesus that in talking to his contemporary community the author hides behind Jesus, though presumably the author appears as ı •vrak∆w memartÊrhken, ka‹ élhyinØ aÈtoË §stin Æ martur¤a, ka‹ §ke›now o‰den ˜ti élhy∞ l°gei, ·na ka‹ Íme›w pisteÊ[s]hte (19:35).20 For the Johannine community, there is only

one leader divinely appointed by God who, like the Branch Davidian leaders, was privy to unique revelations and enjoyed the position of sole expounder of the “present truth” or the unfolding and further revelation of the truth. The only hint of any former leader in the Fourth Gospel comes in the form of John the Baptist, and the author takes great pains to show that the difference between John and Jesus is one of kind and not degree. Jesus is unique; he is not the last in a line of esteemed leaders. He is the only Incarnation of God and the only individual ever to have been simultaneously human and equal to God. Unlike the Branch Davidians, no former leader’s teachings are authoritative for the Johannine community. In the Qumran community, the Teacher of Righteousness is presented as the primary authoritative leader, though there is also room for the “priest” of 1QpHab 2:8–10 and the “we” of 4QMMT who pronounce rulings throughout the document. The central leaders of all three groups, the Teacher of Righteousness, Koresh, and Jesus, are shown to evince a concern for the proper interpretation of Scripture; for each group, that interpretation can be mediated only through the privileged leader. For example, the author of 1QpHab finds in Hab 2:2 a reference to “the Teacher of Righteousness, to whom God has made known all the mysteries of 19

Koresh, Ancient of Days; quoted in Tabor and Gallagher, Waco, 32. Much attention has been devoted to this question. For a brief summary of possible interpretations of §ke›now, see Brown, John, XII–XXI, 936–37. 20

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the words of his servants, the prophets” (7:4–5). Koresh puts it thus: “You may not, by asking God, understand the mysteries of God. God will do nothing but reveal his secret to his servants the prophets. Should you, should you receive an enlightened message from God then you’ll be sittin’ here and I’ll be sittin’ out there.”21 For John, Jesus is the interpreter of Scripture par excellence (5:39; 10:34ff .). Each group depicts its leader as righteous, chosen by God, or admirable in other ways. The leader has exclusive authority on the basis of God’s own designation. Koresh says, for example: “But by the mercy of God, God allowed me to have such a wonderful vision and a wonderful understanding of the seventh angel’s message.”22 The Teacher of Righteousness is the “upright man” (1QpHab 1:13). The entire Fourth Gospel attests to nothing if not the superior nature of the group’s leader. Nonetheless, in both the Branch Davidian and Fourth Gospel communities, the centrality of the leader offends the listeners (cf. John 6 and the conversation recorded in the earlier chapter between Koresh and the member, David). Both Koresh and Jesus claim that people “hate” them on account of truth. A striking similarity between Koresh and Jesus is the strict boundaries they draw around “truth,” a favorite word of each. Repeatedly each insists that not everyone has the truth or the same knowledge of the truth, and each draws the line of salvation and condemnation on that basis. The Teacher of Righteousness, Jesus, and Koresh are depicted as unjustly persecuted. The author of 1QpHab provides this interpretation of Hab 2:15: “ ‘Woe to anyone making his companion drunk, spilling out his anger, or even making him drunk to look at their festivals!’ Its interpretation concerns the Wicked Priest who pursued the Teacher of Righteousness to consume him with the heat of his anger in the place of his banishment” (1QpHab 11:4–6). Koresh says: I myself, I been watchin’ people here for quite a while, observing, seeing how they respond to me, seeing how they respond to—well, some of you know how it is in the world when somebody gets mad, who do they get mad at usually? Me. That lady acted like she was [indiscernible word] yesterday, the lady we saw at the store. Right? I’m the devil and Paul’s the good guy, right? He’s the angel there with the halo on his head. You see? Why does that stuff happen all the time for? Because they don’t have to accept Paul. You see, they can accept everything Paul says and have the light in their heads and still be lost. 21 22

Koresh, Confusion, Pt. 1. Koresh, Judge.

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But the test is God has given them a person as a covenant to the people. That’s what Isaiah tells us, right? That’s the people who don’t like me from the day go when they just see me for some reason. ’Cause actually in their hearts they don’t like truth, you see?23

Jesus expresses the same sentiment at John 15:18–25, which concludes with a citation of Scripture: nËn d¢ ka‹ •vrãkasin ka‹ memisÆkasin ka‹ §m¢ ka‹ tÚn pat°ra mou. éll’ ·na plhrvyª ı lÒgow ı §n t“ nÒmƒ aÈt«n gegramm°now ˜ti Em¤shsãn me dvreãn.

The quote from Koresh also illustrates another conviction of all three groups, namely, that the leader warrants fidelity and belief such that one’s very salvation depends upon one’s stance vis-à-vis him. Koresh certifies this when he says, “You reject Cyrus, you reject God.” The author of 1QpHab is equally clear: “[Hab 2:4b ‘But the righteous man will live because of their loyalty to him.]’ Its interpretation concerns all observing the Law in the House of Judah, whom God will free from the house of judgment on account of their toil and of their loyalty to the Teacher of Righteousness” (7:17–8:3). Likewise, the author of the Fourth Gospel insists, based on Isaiah, that the opponents of Jesus will not receive God’s “healing” (12:38–40).

Definition of the Future Both the Branch Davidians and the Qumranians considered the eschaton imminent and used Scripture to substantiate that perspective. CD, drawing upon Ezek 44:15, depicts the sectarians as the “chosen of Israel, the men of renown, who stand (to serve) at the end of days” (CD 4:2–4). 1QpHab speaks of the sectarians as “the last generation.” Koresh repeatedly shows through biblical interpretation that God has divided history into seven epochs and that his sect was living in the seventh and final epoch, the end of which would be apocalyptic. After quoting Ezek 21:31, “I will pour out my indignation upon you, with the fire of my wrath I will blow upon you. I will deliver you into brutish hands, those skillful to destroy,” Koresh declares: “The Lord destroys with fire these days.”24 Both the Branch Davidians and the Qumranians represent apocalyptic eschatology. With reference to the Fourth Gospel, both “apocalyptic” and “escha23 24

Koresh, The Assyrians. Koresh, Ezekiel 21.

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tology” elicit debate from scholars.25 The debate is not immediately relevant as John does not quote from Scripture in delineating his definition of the future.

Opponents For all three groups opponents are tagged by the negative element in dualistic linguistic pairs. For example, Koresh labels opponents false, carnal, earthly, damned, and related to darkness, whereas the sectarians are defined by truth, spirit, heaven, salvation and light, categories quite similar to those employed by the Fourth Gospel and Qumran literature. This name-calling achieves the goals set forth in Garfinkel’s analysis of degradation ceremonies. Opposition to the sects comes in various forms—from outside the sect, in the form of the parent tradition, the “world,” or the government, and from within the sect. Parent Tradition If the Fourth Gospel and Branch Davidian communities reckoned themselves the purest form of the parent tradition, they also recognized that the parent tradition had no tolerance for such a claim. Koresh admits that his “little group is in so much trouble all the time” and narrates confrontations between the SDA church and the Branch Davidians. For his part, the author of the Fourth Gospel indicates that sect members underwent expulsion from the synagogue and possible threat of death. Both confronted members of the parent tradition face to face and in their literature. Regarding the Branch Davidians, we know the official SDA stance toward the group. Church records show that Koresh was expurgated from the church rolls, and we have numerous official statements on the part of the SDA at the time of the standoff with the government and the aftermath of the destruction.26 We have no external evidence on the part of the parent tradition for the Qumran and Johannine sects.27 25 For a brief introduction to the issues, see John Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1991), 67–76 and 383ff. 26 For detailed statements, see Lawson, “Seventh-Day,” 323–41. 27 Martyn’s suggestion that the Birkhat Ha-Minim reflects an official response to Johannine heresy has been criticized, though the critique does not undermine the primary substance of his argument regarding the Johannine community. Pieter W.

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Each group attempted to undercut the parent tradition’s hold on the group by usurping the tradition’s primary resources and figures. So the Branch Davidians expropriate Ellen White from the SDA church, claiming her as one of their own prophets who was then succeeded by V. Houteff. The Fourth Gospel commandeers the traditions of Judaism as well, but after appropriating them, subordinates them to the later leader. So, Moses is appropriated but properly situated not as a predecessor of like kind with Jesus, but merely as a witness to Jesus. Again, John revels in the uniqueness of the incarnation; what we have in the Fourth Gospel is not a seamless continuation of Israel’s history in the manner of Luke but a drum roll (Scripture) that leads to the appearance of God Incarnate. An interesting difference between the Fourth Gospel and the other two groups studied has to do with labeling the opponents as “those who break Scripture.” Both the Qumran and the Branch Davidian materials characterize the opponents as Scripture-breakers. For instance, Koresh impugns the parent tradition, saying: “The Adventist church is a rejected church. They are not God’s people. They have not been for years. You see? That’s why they had no commission in the world. They haven’t ever preached the Sabbath as it is to be preached. They don’t keep it as it is to be kept. They know nothing of it ’cause they have no spirit of prophecy.”28 All of the Qumran authors consulted in this study malign the opponents as transgressors of van der Horst, “The Birkat ha-minim in Recent Research,” ExpTim 105 (1994), begins his survey of scholarly treatments of the Birkhat as it relates to Christianity thus: “Some New Testament passages are often drawn into this discussion, especially those in the Gospel of John where Jesus speaks about his followers’ being thrown out of the synagogues by the Jews (9:22; 12:42; 16:2). Several recent scholars have suggested that as this Gospel is from the period around 100 .., it may have been written partly in reaction to this new berakhah. It was especially the influential work History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel by J. Louis Martyn that has given this theory an almost canonical status. . . . Is this picture, however, as unambiguous as it would seem to be? In the past decade or so a number of studies have been published that deny its overall validity” (363). See also Steven Katz, “Issues in the Separation of Judaism and Christianity after 70 ,” JBL 103 (1984): 43–76; Reuven Kimelman, “Birkat ha-minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity,” in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, II: Aspects of Judaism in the Graeco-Roman World (ed. E. P. Sanders, et al.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), 226–44; William Horbury, “The Benediction of the Minim and Early JewishChristian Controversy,” JTS 33 (1982): 19–61; Wayne O. McCready, “Johannine Self-Understanding and the Synagogue Episode of John 9,” in Self-Definition and SelfDiscovery in Early Christianity (ed. David J. Hawkin and Tom Robinson; Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen, 1990), 147–66. 28 Koresh, Shower Head Tape.

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Torah. Artfully and with grave playfulness John presents the opponents as “breaking” Scripture insofar as they do not believe in Jesus (cf. 5:39ff.) and they try to kill him (10:32ff., etc.), but he also insists that they “fulfill” Scripture, albeit ironically (12:38ff.; 15:25). Sect-Defectors All three groups use Scripture against actual or potential sect-defectors. For John, one way to prevent defection lies in facing the scandal of the cross squarely. By means of his fulfillment quotations, John can convince hesitant members that the mockery and death of Jesus poses no real problem since it accords fully with God’s plan as presented in Scripture. Both Koresh and the Fourth Gospel overtly admit and address what each calls “schism” in the group. How do they deal with this? Each author freely admits, even emphasizes, the cost of abiding with him and the sect. But both also offer various rewards, including love, knowledge of the truth, healing, salvation, and eternal life (cf. 1QpHab 8:2 and 4QMMT C12). Each also operates under the assumption that those who are closest to the group are the most dangerous (represented by Judas in the Fourth Gospel and overtly stated by Koresh). Each ascribes inside opposition to the devil (who is depicted as a “beguiler”) and castigates potential and actual deserters. About one group of Branch Davidian schismatics, Koresh declares: Here at Mt. Carmel a brochure went around trying to get George Roden elected president. Well, according to the inspired writings of Ellen G. White, Houteff Levitical [inaudible word], and Ben Roden, a president, which is a prophet, isn’t to be elected but appointed by God. Now those who’d elect any man for that office without God’s supervision (?) proving they have the gift of inspiration can be driven by none other than the devil himself.29

About the sect-defector par excellence in the Fourth Gospel, Judas, Jesus pronounces: If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them. I am not speaking of you all; I know whom I have chosen; it is that the Scripture may be fulfilled, “He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.” I tell you this now, before it takes place, that when it does take place you may believe that I am he (13:17–19).

29

Koresh, Ezekiel 21.

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Interpreting Num 24:17, the author of CD states: The sceptre is the prince of the whole congregation and when he rises he will destroy all the sons of Seth. These escaped at the time of the first visitation while the renegades were delivered up to the sword. Thus will be the judgment of all those entering his covenant but who do not remain steadfast in them; they shall be visited for destruction at the hand of Belial. This is the day when God will make a visitation (CD 7:20–8:3).

The World The author of the Fourth Gospel has a love-hate relationship with the world. On the one hand, he has Jesus proclaim that God so loved the world (kÒsmow) that he sent the Son so that those who believe in him might have eternal life, the highest reward offered in the Fourth Gospel. On the other hand, as was demonstrated exegetically in the previous chapter, the world is less than receptive to the sent Son and, by extension, to the Johannine sect. Scripture is used to derogate the world, which hated Jesus without a cause ( John 15:25). As Bultmann declares of the kÒsmow in the Fourth Gospel: “it stands over against God and confronts him with hostility; the kÒsmow then is the skot¤a (v. 5), which constitutes itself as such by turning away from the revelation.”30 Furthermore, in both the Fourth Gospel and Branch Davidian literature, there is some conflation between the parent tradition and “the world” (see exegesis of 10:34ff. above) so that where John uses Scripture to degrade the parent tradition, it can be assumed that the same applies to his view of “the world.” “The world” also receives attention from Koresh, always negative. The Ammonites of Ezek 21:28 are “people of the world.”31 After interpreting Scripture, Koresh can say, “And these messages hold, or keep the persecution of the world away from the church.”32 Like the Fourth Gospel, Koresh conflates “the world” with other opponents; speaking of the non-Adventist church, he says: “And yet you know as well as I do that they’re no different than the world is. The world and the church go hand in hand today.”33

30 31 32 33

Bultmann, John, 54. Koresh, Ezekiel 21. Koresh, Judge. Koresh, Voice of Fire.

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The Government All three sects demonstrate conflict with their respective governments. Based on Scripture, both the Qumranians and Branch Davidians expected imminent, severe, apocalyptic persecution by their respective governments. 1QpHab, for example, interprets Hab 1:11 thus: “Its interpretation [con]cerns the leaders of the Kittim, who on the advice of a house of guilty [people] go by, one before the other. [Their] leaders, [o]ne after another, will come to raze the ea[rth” (1QpHab 4:10–13). In explicating Rev 15:2, Koresh declares simply: “the beast represents the earthly governments.”34 The expectations of both groups were realized: both were destroyed in a conflict with their governments. The situation of the Fourth Gospel community shares some points of contact with these groups, but differs markedly. Meeks35 and David Rensberger interpret John’s Gospel as revealing strong tension with the Roman government. Rensberger focuses on the three main characters of the trial before Pilate: Pilate, Jesus, and “the Jews.” He presents Pilate as a hard, ironic, supercilious, manipulative figure who delights in whipping up the fervor of the Jews against Jesus. He maintains: Moreover, by having him bully “the Jews” into accepting the kingship of Caesar, the evangelist shows himself implicitly critical of that kingship. Certainly he does not agree with Pilate and “the Jews” that Israel has no king but Caesar, and this must make him inimical not only to Pilate but inevitably also to the system that Pilate represents.36

Fine, but how does one get from this general ideological stance against the “kingship of Caesar” (a stance certainly not unique to the Fourth Gospel among  authors) to the notion of real conflict between sectarians and Rome? Rensberger argues: “Jesus’ interviews with Pilate very likely represent a model for the Johannine community’s dealings with Roman officials, just as Jesus’ interrogation by the high priest reflects the community’s relationships with the Jewish authorities.”37 While all of the above may be true, some reservations are in order. First, John explains that potential sectarians avoided joining the sect not for “fear of the Romans,” but for “fear of the Jews” (7:13; 12:42; 34 35 36 37

Koresh, Judge. Meeks, Prophet-King, especially 63ff. Also Meeks, “Ethics,” 323–24. Rensberger, Johannine, 95. Ibid., 96.

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19:38; 20:19). Indeed, the Gospel implies that sectarians could be murdered by “the Jews” (16:2), the same people whom the author repeatedly depicts as seeking to kill Jesus (5:18; 7:1, 19, 20, 25; 8:37). It is the real possibility and even inevitability of violence on the part of “the Jews” which comes across most strongly in the Fourth Gospel. To be sure, Jesus suffers violence at the hands of Pilate, but no fear is indicated whatsoever; Jesus handles the affair with sangfroid. The Fourth Gospel implies that danger comes not in the form of the Roman government but in the form of “the Jews” who may inform against the group and stir up the suspicions of the government. Second, and most importantly, unlike both the Qumran and Branch Davidian communities, the Fourth Gospel never appeals to Scripture to derogate the government as an opponent of the group.38

Judgment against Opponents All three sects clearly expect God’s judgment to descend upon opponents of the sect, an expectation supported by, if not born from, Scripture. Koresh expounds: Now we know that Idumea represents the fleshy Jews and also the modern SDA and Davidian groups who have not progressed with present truth. . . . And verse fourteen of Ezekiel 35 tells us that when all the earth shall rejoice, the Lord’s going to execute his judgments upon the Adventist people and upon, well, Zechariah 14 is going to be fulfilled also at that time.39

Qumran abounds with examples of this conviction. 1QpHab 4:16–5:6 provides one instance: Hab 1:12–13a Are you not] 17 [from of old, YHWH my holy God. We will not die. YHWH,] you have appointed him to judge; Rock, you have installed him to rebuke him. Your eyes are too pure 2 to look at evil, you can not stare at calamity. Blank 3 Interpretation of 38 As the government, per se, Rome is not denounced according to Scripture. Pilate (presumably a representative of the author’s attitude toward Romans) certainly turns out to be part of “the world,” as do all opponents of Jesus in the Gospel and, therefore, may be reckoned among the hostile forces of 12:38ff. and 15:25. Rensberger summarizes: “[A]s Wayne Meeks points out, Pilate answers his own question from v. 35: he would deny it (mèti), but he is ranked alongside “the Jews” among those who do not hear Jesus’ voice. He is ‘of the world.’ ” Johannine, 93. 39 Koresh, Judge.

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the word: God is not to destroy his nation at the hand of the peoples, 4 but in the hand of his chosen ones God will place the judgment over all the peoples; and by their reproof 5 all the evildoers of his people will be pronounced guilty, (by the reproof ) of those who kept his commandments 6 in their hardship.

The Fourth Gospel, too, envisions judgment for any who remain outside the sect. But only once does John deploy Scripture in this regard (12:38ff.); rather, for John the certainty of judgment is inseparably linked not to Scripture, but to Jesus’ own words. John 5:24 is representative: “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears my word and believes him who sent me, has eternal life; he does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.”

Growing the Sect The texts that I have analyzed from the three sects are aimed at insiders, not outsiders. Koresh shows some interest in proselytizing, as when he forthrightly states: “I am trying to proselate [sic],”40 and when he attempts to educate visitors to his Bible studies. Hardly any of the Qumran materials evince a concern for using Scripture in proselytizing, and the Fourth Gospel does not use direct quotations for the purposes of proselytizing (unless we argue that all of the instances of Jesus’ contending with “the Jews” over Scripture comprise an attempt to win Jewish opponents to the group). But like the Branch Davidian and Qumran materials, the Fourth Gospel is written for the community, not as a missionary tract. Various scholars argue for a Jewish,41 Samaritan,42 or Gentile mission in the Fourth Gospel.43 That the community of the Fourth Gospel incorporated 40

Koresh, The Bird. Those who argue that the Fourth Gospel, either in an earlier or final form, aimed to convert Jews include: W. C. van Unnik, “The Purpose of St. John’s Gospel,” in Studia Evangelica (ed. Kurt Aland, et al.; TU 73; Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1959), 382–411; John A. T. Robinson, “The Destination and Purpose of St. John’s Gospel,” NTS 6 (1960): 117–31; J. Louis Martyn, “Source Criticism and Religionsgeschichte in the Fourth Gospel,” in Jesus and Man’s Hope (ed. David G. Buttrick; Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, 1970), 248, 253–54; D. Moody Smith, “The Setting and Shape of a Johannine Narrative Source,” JBL 95 (1976): 231–41. 42 See Edwin D. Freed, “Did John Write His Gospel Partly to Win Samaritan Converts?” NovT 12 (1970): 241–56. 43 Among the more interesting and unusual approaches to missionary elements 41

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non-Jews into its group hardly seems surprising, but John does not invoke Scripture to achieve proselytizing aims. He also pays no attention to the next generation of sectarians, the children. The same was true for the Branch Davidians and the Qumranians, but there the apocalypticism of the groups went far to explain such inattention. It is an odd omission for a group with a supposed “realized eschatology,” and may indicate that the group was more apocalyptically oriented than is usually proposed. By attending to figures such as Nicodemus and the blind man’s parents ( John 9), I could easily corroborate Swidler’s thesis that those in settled lives do not join sects because of the extreme social costs for them. Those figures, however, fall outside the purview of the present study.

Creating a Sense of Belonging Any group must create a sense of belonging among the members if it would be successful. Iannoccone maintains that sects must excel at this because they particularly ask members to sacrifice much. Both John and Koresh confess the costs, including dangerously high tension with the surrounding culture in the form of the parent tradition, the wider social environment, or both. Additionally, there is the trauma of loss of one’s close family ties and learning a new system of status achievement based on the group’s own values, whether it is mastering the understanding of Scripture as presented by David Koresh or knowing, believing, and abiding in Jesus’ own word as presented by the author of the Fourth Gospel. The leader can create a sense of belonging in a number of ways, not least of which is depicting the sectarians as an elect group. The in the Fourth Gospel is Tod D. Swanson’s “To Prepare a Place: Johannine Christianity and the Collapse of Ethnic Territory,” JAAR 62 (1994): 241–63. Swanson writes: “The prologue alerts us to expect two opposing responses to these semeia. On the one hand, the light of creation will come to its own home, its own place, but there it will not be received. The light will then come to others who evidently are not its own, but they will respond and become children of God. The first are clearly the Iudaioi [sic] while the second are the members of the incipient Johannine community most clearly represented in the gospel by the Samaritans. It is my thesis that these contrasting responses are in fact two opposing attitudes toward ethnic territory. As such, they provide a key to the religious meaning of space in the early Johannine community” (248).

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Johannine community, like its sectarian Qumranian and Davidian counterparts, viewed itself as the true form of the parent tradition. The Branch Davidians are “wave sheaf,” “firstfruits,” “modern Israel.” The Johannine community consists of “those whom God has chosen,” “those who hear the voice,” “true Israelites”—but rather odd Israelites since, like Jesus, they are “not of this world,” “from above,” and sojourners on the way which leads ultimately to the Father’s house (14:2). In addition to elevating the group to a high status using various superior sobriquets, the use of in-group language serves a powerful cohesive function. Whereas the Branch Davidians used such language as “inspiration,” “revelation,” “the 144,000,” “1844,” “present truth,” “Ellen G. White, V. Houteff, B. Roden, L. Roden,” “Branch He” “Branch She,” “wave sheaf,” “antitypical,” and “the special resurrection,” the Fourth Gospel uses language such as “believe,” “know,” “understand,” “observe,” “truth,” light vs. darkness, love vs. hate, of this world vs. not of this world, from above vs. from below, heavenly vs. earthly, Jesus’ word(s), Jesus’ commandment(s), “glory,” “signs.” If there is one element of creating a sense of belonging mentioned by different sorts of sociologists, it is the power of language, though few elaborate. Witten’s analysis provides one example of attending to language. Wuthnow makes the following important comment only in passing: “The special advantage of congregations, especially in the high church or liturgical traditions (and at the extreme fundamentalist end of the theological spectrum), is that they can speak largely in the distinctive language of their own subculture and do so with the authority of specialists who know this language well.”44 Relevant to a consideration of the power of language, Wuthnow suggests that any effective religion must use what he calls a “language” based on tradition, narrative, and conviction. Swidler writes the following about culture which, for her, includes “beliefs, ritual practices, art forms, and ceremonies, as well as informal cultural practices such as language, gossip, stories and rituals of daily life”45 (I would include “Scripture” as well): Particular cultural resources can be integrated, however, into quite different strategies of action. A crucial task for research is to understand how cultural capacities created in one historical context are reappropriated and altered in new circumstances. . . . The significance of specific cultural 44 45

Wuthnow, Producing, 101. Swidler, “Culture,” 273.

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symbols can be understood only in relation to the strategies of action they sustain. Culture does not influence how groups organize action via enduring psychological proclivities implanted in individuals by their socialization. Instead, publicly available meanings facilitate certain patterns of action, making them readily available, while discouraging others.46

Paul Duke’s study of John’s use of irony takes seriously the social function of language, and irony appears to be particularly well suited to a group that so strictly defines insider and outsider. As with his use of metaphor, misunderstanding, and double meaning, the author of the Fourth Gospel uses irony with skill and, more importantly, with intention. Duke defines that intention as twofold, what he calls “Irony and the Johannine Polemic” and “Irony and the Johannine Witness.” He argues that John’s use of irony fits well with the notion of a group embroiled in battle with the synagogue. Irony is a weapon used most often against “the Jews,” who constantly shout their certainty that Jesus is a sinner (9:24), who piously appeal to the law they reject (19:7) and the spiritual heritage they have betrayed (8:39), and who, in order to silence the one they accuse of blasphemy, will exalt Caesar above God (19:15). Their victimization is not without its comic touches. The height of John’s mockery of them is that they constantly bear unwitting witness to Jesus’ dignity and are themselves instrumental in his exaltation and the consequent belief of many.47

While irony in the Fourth Gospel destroys, it also edifies. He quotes Wayne Booth to this effect: [T]he building of amiable communities is often far more important than the exclusion of naïve victims. Often the predominant emotion when reading stable ironies is that of joining, of finding and communing with kindred spirits . . . every irony inevitably builds a community of believers even as it excludes.48

Applying this to the Johannine community, Duke suggests that the irony deployed against the Jews could affirm and reinforce the sectarians’ decision to break ties with the parent tradition and make the sectarians feel as though they belong to a superior, elect group. It could encourage perseverance and faith in the sectarians. It could embolden the timorous (Brown’s “crypto-Christians”) to fully commit 46 47 48

Ibid., 283. Duke, Irony, 150. Ibid., 151.

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to the group, to become insiders. Though he does not seem to know Garfinkel’s work, he shares Garfinkel’s belief expressed here that irony serves a social function: Two themes commonly stand out in the rhetoric of denunciation: (1) the irony between what the denounced appeared to be and what he is seen now really to be where the new motivational scheme is taken as the standard and (2) a re-examination and redefinition of origins of the denounced.49

Though he does not develop the argument, Duke does notice a relationship between irony and Scripture in the Fourth Gospel: [T]he effect of the irony sometimes depends upon some knowledge of the Old Testament or Jewish tradition. One thinks, for example, of 7:52, where the Pharisees say, “Search and you will see that the prophet is not to rise from Galilee.” The irony depends partially upon either the fact that Scripture says nothing of the origin of the Prophet or the fact that several biblical prophets arose from Galilee. Pilate’s “Behold the Man!” is a far richer irony if one recalls Zechariah 6:12.50

Drawing upon Herbert Leroy’s work,51 David Brakke recognizes the social function of “code language” in John: The Johannine Christians’ alienation from their social world parallels the Son of Man’s rejection by the world. The community’s estrangement from its cultural home becomes vivid in the frequent scenes of misunderstanding in John, which reflect the Johannine community’s use of a “special language” (“Sondersprache”), which was known to those in the community and unknown to those outside it. This language consisted of terms that had standard meaning in the conventional religious language of the sect’s environment, but which had taken on peculiar meanings for the sect. A disjunction between what terms conventionally meant and their particular significance for Johannine Christians resulted in misunderstanding when members of the sect attempted to communicate with outsiders. This special language had its basis in Johannine christology, namely, in the community’s faith in the crucified Jesus as the one who has descended and ascended: as the Johannine Christians responded to the revelation of the descending and ascending Lord, they would have developed and inculcated their special language in preaching and instruction.52

49

Garfinkel, “Conditions,” 422 n. 7. Duke, Irony, 141–42. 51 Herbert Leroy, Rätsel und Missverstandnis: Ein Beitrag zur Formgeschichte des Johannesevangeliums (Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1968), 190. 52 Brakke, “Parables,” 194. 50

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Yet another technique used by the Fourth Gospel is to make the sectarians identify closely with Jesus. So, just as the world hates Jesus, persecutes him, and will not keep his word, so also the sectarians should expect nothing less than that the world will hate them, persecute them, and resist keeping their word. But just as Jesus and the Father love each other and are one, so also do the sectarians enjoy the intimate unity with Jesus and the Father. This strict identification between the experience of the sectarians and the experience of Jesus has been detected by Meeks when he concludes that the Descent/ Ascent motif in the Gospel functions to convince the sectarians that, just as Jesus is an alien in this world, so too should they consider themselves.53 Having members of a group meet frequently builds a strong sense of group identity. Sociologist of religion Daniel Olson contends: One of the oldest generalizations in the sociology of religion is that religious identity, belief, and commitment depend for their vitality upon the frequency and character of social interaction among persons sharing a common belief. Without regular contact with others who share one’s beliefs, a person slowly forgets the vitality of his or her religious experience, religious identity begins to blur, and beliefs lose much of their plausibility and relevance for life (Durkheim 1915; Berger 1967).54

He notes with approbation: The classical sociological theorists of the nineteenth century (such as Marx, Weber, Durkheim, Tonnies, and Simmel) argue that in preindustrial societies religion, kinship, and community form the central bases of individual identity, interaction, and solidarity among persons. Moreover, the three spheres are coextensive and indistinguishable; one’s neighbors are one’s kin and one’s fellow believers. One’s religious identity as a member of the community is taken for granted. The entire community, its values, institutions, and individual members act to transmit and reinforce religious identity.55

If meeting frequently contributes to this strong identity, how much more so residing together? This point was well taken by both the Qumran and Branch Davidian communities, which each resided 53

Meeks, “Man from Heaven.” Daniel V. A. Olson, “Fellowship Ties and the Transmission of Religious Identity,” in Beyond Establishment: Protestant Identity in a Post-Protestant Age (ed. Jackson Carroll and Wade Clark Roof; Louisville: Westminster, 1993), 32. See also Christopher G. Ellison and Linda K. George, “Religious Involvement, Social Ties, and Social Support in a Southeastern Community,” JSSR 33 (1994): 46–61. 55 Olson, “Fellowship,” 33. 54

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together and met frequently. If the Johannine community was able to retain its sectarian nature, as the Johannine Epistles indicate, then the possibility that the members of the Johannine community lived together should not be excluded. At the very least, if the sociologists are correct, the sectarians must have met quite frequently.56 In addition to all of the above, a sectarian leader must make the members feel that there are rewards for the sacrifice and, to increase their value, they must be rewards which are not accessible to everyone. The rewards may be concrete (so, the Branch Davidians enjoyed fast cars and lawn mowers that never break), or lofty (such as status, honor, and friendship). The Fourth Gospel lists election, healing, joy, salvation, knowledge and understanding, being cleansed, abiding in Jesus’ love, bearing much fruit, avoiding the fire (escape from judgment), glorifying the Father, having every wish fulfilled, resurrection, and eternal life.

Success of the Group None of the three sects lessened its tension with its socio-cultural environment, though the tension expressed by the Johannine Epistles is with “the world” rather than “the Jews.” Unlike Qumran and the Branch Davidians under Koresh, the Fourth Gospel sect survived. The first two, which exhibit a heavily apocalyptic stance and far more concern with the violent tendencies of the government than the Fourth Gospel, were destroyed at the hands of their respective governments. This may suggest that a sect’s chance of survival is lessened considerably if it excites the animosity of the government that rules the land in which the sect operates rather than merely conflicts with its parent tradition. Furthermore, conflict with the parent tradition can lead to exciting the animosity of the government if the former informs the latter against the sect. For instance, the para-Christian Anti-Cult Network and various “cult-deprogrammers” drummed up no small amount of noise about the Branch 56 “Abiding in the logos of Jesus entailed for them a steadfast loyalty to the countercultural movement, which had had to find other social forms and locations, outside the synagogues, for its existence. It found them, as we know from the epistles of John, in household-based communities, like those by which other circles of Christianity found a foothold in the more ethnically diverse cities around the Mediterranean.” Meeks, “Ethics,” 323.

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Davidians. The Jewish opponents in the Fourth Gospel seem to have done the same before Pilate. A third suggestion has to do with the provenance of the Johannine sect and its Gospel. That the Gospel reflects only a relatively small concern with government persecution may indicate a provenance in which the general populace and government were ignorant or tolerant of the group. This would militate against Palestine or even a place such as Rome, where an argument between Christians and Jews could lead to an expulsion of Jews from Rome as occurred under Claudius.

The Potency of Scripture Scripture serves a stunning array of functions for the author of the Fourth Gospel. These functions have been summarized above. John, believer, storyteller, preacher, and minister, already knew what scholars of the New Testament and sociology are only now beginning to study and take seriously: Scripture is powerful for all who lend it authority.

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Dimant, Devorah. “Use and Interpretation of Mikra in the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha.” Pages 379–419 in Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity. Edited by Martin Jan Mulder. Assen/Maastrich: Van Gorcum, 1988. Duke, Paul D. Irony in the Fourth Gospel. Atlanta: John Knox, 1985. Ellison, Christopher G., and Linda K. George. “Religious Involvement, Social Ties, and Social Support in a Southeastern Community.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 33 (1994): 46–61. Erikson, Kai. Everything in Its Path. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1976. ——. A New Species of Trouble: Explorations in Disaster, Trauma and Community. New York: Norton, 1994. Fairbairn, Patrick. The Typology of Scripture: Viewed in Connection with the Entire Scheme of the Divine Dispensations. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1900. Finegan, Jack. Handbook of Biblical Chronology. Rev. ed. Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1998. Finke, Roger, and Rodney Stark. The Churching of America. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1992. Fishbane, Michael. “Inner Biblical Exegesis: Types and Strategies of Interpretation in Ancient Israel.” Pages 19–37 in Midrash and Literature. Edited by Geoffrey H. Hartman and Sanford Budick. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986. ——. “Use, Authority and Interpretation of Mikra at Qumran.” Pages 339–77 in Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading, and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity. Edited by M. J. Mulder with H. Sysling. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1988. Fisher, N. R. E. Hybris: A Study in the Values of Honour and Shame in Ancient Greece. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1992. Fitzmeyer, Joseph A. “The Use of Explicit Old Testament Quotations in Qumran Literature and in the New Testament.” New Testament Studies 7 (1960–1961): 297–333. Fortna, Robert T. The Fourth Gospel and Its Predecessor. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988. Fraade, Steven D. “Interpretive Authority in the Studying Community at Qumran.” Journal of Jewish Studies 44 (1993) 46–69. ——. “Looking for Legal Midrash at Qumran.” Pages 59–79 in Biblical Perspectives: Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Michael E. Stone and Esther G. Chazon. Volume 28 of Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah. Edited by F. Garcia Martinez and A. S. Van der Woude. Leiden: Brill, 1998. Freed, Edwin D. “Did John Write His Gospel Partly to Win Samaritan Converts?” Novum Testamentum 12 (1970): 241–56. ——. “Ego Eimi in John 1:20 and 4:25.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 41 (1979): 288–91. ——. “Ego Eimi in John viii.24 in the Light of Its Context and Jewish Messianic Belief.” Journal of Theological Studies 33 (1982): 163–67. ——. “Who or What Was Before Abraham in John 8:58?” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 17 (1983): 52–59. Freyne, Sean. “Vilifying the Other and Defining the Self.” Pages 117–43 in To See Ourselves as Others See Us: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity. Edited by Jacob Neusner and Ernest S. Frerichs. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1985. García Martínez, Florentino, and Donald W. Parry. A Bibliography of the Finds in the Desert of Judah 1970–95. Leiden: Brill, 1996. García Martínez, Florentino. The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated. Second English Edition. Leiden: Brill, 1996. García Martínez, Florentino, and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar. The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition: Volume One IQI–4Q273. Leiden: Brill, 1997. García Martínez, Florentino, and Julio Trebolle Barrera. The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Literature, Social Organization and Religious Beliefs. Translated by Wilred G. E. Watson. Leiden: Brill, 1995.

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Garfinkel, Harold. “Conditions of Successful Degradation Ceremonies.” American Journal of Sociology 61 (1956): 420–24. Garland, David E. “The Fulfillment Quotations in John’s Account of the Crucifixion.” Pages 229–250 in Perspectives on John: Method and Interpretation in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by Robert B. Sloan and Mikeal C. Parsons. Lewiston, N.Y.: Mellen, 1993. Gundry, Robert Horton. The Use of the Old Testament in St. Matthew’s Gospel. Leiden: Brill, 1967. Hamm, Mark S. Apocalypse in Oklahoma: Waco and Ruby Ridge Revenged. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1997. Hammond, Phillip E. “Religion and the Persistence of Identity.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 27 (1988): 1–11. Harding, Susan. “Epilogue: Observing the Observers.” Pages 318–37 in Southern Baptists Observed. Edited by Nancy Tatom Ammerman. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1993. ——. “The Gospel of Giving: The Narrative Construction of a Sacrificial Economy.” Pages 39–56 in Vocabularies of Public Life: Empirical Essays in Symbolic Structure. Edited by Robert Wuthnow. London: Routledge, 1992. Harner, Philip B. The “I Am” of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Johannine Usage and Thought. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1970. Hays, Richard B. Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. Hicks, Robert C. “Cult Label Made Waco Violence Inevitable.” Pages 63–66 in From the Ashes: Making Sense of Waco. Edited by James R. Lewis. Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1994. The Holy Bible: New International Version. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1984. The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989. Horbury, William. “The Benediction of the Minim and Early Jewish-Christian Controversy.” Journal of Theological Studies 33 (1982): 19–61. Horgan, Maurya P. Pesharim: Qumran Interpretations of Biblical Books. Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association, 1979. Hoskyns, Edwyn Clement. The Fourth Gospel. Edited by Francis Noel Davey. London: Faber and Faber, 1947. Hostetler, John A. Amish Society. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1968. Iannaccone, Laurence R. “A Formal Model of Church and Sect.” American Journal of Sociology 94 (1988): S241–68. ——. “Why Strict Churches are Strong.” American Journal of Sociology 99 (1994): 1180–211. Johnson, Benton. “Church and Sect Revisited.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 10 (1971): 124–37. ——. “On Church and Sect.” American Sociological Review 28 (1963): 539–49. Jucci, Elio. “Il Pesher, un Ponte tra il Passato e il Futuro.” Henoch 8 (1986): 321–38. Käsemann, Ernst. The Testament of Jesus: A Study of the Gospel of John in the Light of Chapter 17. Translated by Gerhard Krodel. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1968. Katz, Steven. “Issues in the Separation of Judaism and Christianity after 70 CE,” Journal of Biblical Literature 103 (1984): 43–76. Keck, Leander E. “Derivation as Destiny: ‘Of-ness’ in Johannine Christology, Anthropology, and Soteriology.” Pages 274–88 in Exploring the Gospel of John. Edited by R. Alan Culpepper and C. Clifton Black. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996. Kelsey, David. The Uses of Scriptures in Recent Theology. Philadephia: Fortress, 1975. Kimelman, Reuven. “Birkat ha-minim and the Lack of Evidence for an AntiChristian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity,” Pages 226–44 in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, II: Aspects of Judaism in the Graeco-Roman World. Edited by E. P. Sanders, et al. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981.

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Kister, Menahem. “Biblical Phrases and Hidden Biblical Interpretations and Pesharim.” Pages 27–39 in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of Research. Edited by Devorah Dimant and Uriel Rappaport. Leiden: Brill, 1992. Knibb, Michael. The Qumran Community. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Koresh, David. The Assyrians. Audiocassette recorded January 10, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. The Bird. Audiocassette recorded August 24, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. “Blow Ye the Trumpet in Zion.” No pages. Transcribed by Marc Breault. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/trumpe.html. ——. California Study. Audiocassette recorded from Video Study of 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. Confusion, Part 1. Audiocassette recorded July 18, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. Confusion, Part 2. Audiocassette recorded July 18, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. “Daughters of Zion” No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/ daught.html. ——. “The Decoded Message of the Seven Seals of the Book of Revelation.” No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/manuscript.html. ——. Ezekiel 21. Audiocassette recorded October 19, 1984. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. Ezekiel 47. Audiocassette recorded November 11, 1984. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. Feelings. Audiocassette recorded August 24, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. The Foundation. Audiocassette recorded October 1989. Transcribed by David Bunds. No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/foundation.html. ——. “Get Ready!” No Pages. Transcribed by Marc Breault. Online: http:// home.maine.rr.com/waco/ready.html. ——. Jonah. Audiocassette recorded April 25, 1989. Transcribed by Mark Swett. No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/jonah.html. ——. Judge What I Say. Audiocassette recorded February 4, 1985. Transcribed by David Bunds. No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/judge.html. ——. A Letter to Australia. Audiocassette recorded June 14, 1986. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. “Letter to Sister Smith.” No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/ smith.html. ——. Letter to Steve Schneider and the Wisconsin Brethren. Audiocassette recorded in 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. “Letter to the Seventh-Day-Adventist Church.” No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/son.html. ——. “The Message.” No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/sda.html. ——. Psalm 68 and Isaiah 42. Audiocassette recorded March 12, 1986. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. Radio Sermon. Audiocassette recorded March 2, 1993. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. Root of Jesse. Audiocassette recorded August 27, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. The Sabbath, Part 1. Audiocassette recorded March 15, 1986. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. The Sabbath, Part 2. Audiocassette recorded March 15, 1986. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX.

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——. The Seventh Angel—Enter Into Rest. Audiocassette recorded January 30, 1985. Transcribed by Mark Swett. No pages. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/ rest.html. ——. The Shaking, Part 1. Audiocassette recorded July 23, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. The Shaking, Part 2. Audiocassette recorded July 23, 1987. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. The Shower Head Tape. Audiocassette recorded August 24, 1987. Transcribed by Mark Swett. Online: http://home.maine.rr.com/waco/shower.html. ——. Voice of Fire. Audiocassette. Undated. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. ——. What is Truth? Audiocassette. Undated. Provided by Mt. Carmel Survivors Fund, Axtell, TX. Kugel, James L., and Rowan A. Greer. Early Biblical Interpretation. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986. Lawson, Ronald. “Seventh-Day Adventist Responses to Branch Davidian Notoriety: Patterns of Diversity within a Sect Reducing Tension with Society,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 34 (1995): 323–41. Lemarche, Paul. “The Prologue of John.” Pages 47–65 in The Interpretation of John. Second Edition. Edited by John Ashton. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997. Leroy, Herbert. Rätsel und Missverständnis: Ein Beitrag zur Formgeschichte des Johannesevangeliums. Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1968. Lewis, James R., ed. From the Ashes: Making Sense of Waco. Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1994. Lim, Timothy H. Holy Scripture in the Qumran Commentaries and Pauline Letters. Oxford: Clarendon, 1997. Lim, Timothy. “The Qumran Scrolls: Two Hypotheses.” Studies in Religion 21 (1992): 455–66. Malina, Bruce. The Gospel of John in Sociolinguistic Perspective. Berkeley, Calif.: Center for Hermeneutical Studies in Hellenistic and Modern Culture, 1985. Martyn, J. Louis. The Gospel of John in Christian History. New York: Paulist, 1979. ——. History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel. Revised and enlarged edition. Nashville: Abingdon, 1979. ——. “Source Criticism and Religionsgeschichte in the Fourth Gospel.” Pages 247–73 in Jesus and Man’s Hope. Volume One. Edited by David G. Buttrick. Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, 1970. May, Herbert G. and Bruce M. Metzger, eds. The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha: Revised Standard Version. New York: Oxford University Press, 1977. McCready, Wayne O. “Johannine Self-Understanding and the Synagogue Episode of John 9.” Pages 147–66 in Self-Definition and Self-Discovery in Early Christianity: A Study in Changing Horizons: Essays in Appreciation of Ben F. Meyer From Former Students. Edited by David J. Hawkin and Tom Robinson. Lewiston, N.Y.: Mellen, 1990. Meeks, Wayne A. “ ‘Am I a Jew?’ ” Pages 163–86 in Christians, Jews and other GrecoRoman Cults: Studies for Morton Smith at Sixty. Volume 1. Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity 12. Edited by Jacob Neusner. Leiden: Brill, 1975. ——. “Breaking Away: Three New Testament Pictures of Christianity’s Separation from the Jewish Communities.” Pages 93–115 in To See Ourselves as Others See Us: Christians, Jew, “Others” in Late Antiquity. Edited by Jacob Neusner and Ernest S. Frerichs. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1985. ——. “The Divine Agent and His Counterfeit in Philo and the Fourth Gospel.” Pages 43–67 in Aspects of Religious Propaganda in Judaism and Early Christianity. Edited by Elixabeth Schussler-Fiorenza. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1976. ——. “Equal to God.” Pages 309–21 in The Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul and

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John in Honor of J. Louis Martyn. Edited by Robert T. Fortna and Beverly Gaventa. Nashville: Abingdon, 1990. ——. “The Ethics of the Fourth Evangelist.” Pages 317–26 in Exploring the Gospel of John. Edited by R. Alan Culpepper and C. Clifton Black. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996. ——. “Galilee and Judea in the Fourth Gospel.” Journal of Biblical Literature 85 (1966): 159–69. ——. “A Hermeneutics of Social Embodiment.” Pages 176–86 in Christians Among Jews and Gentiles. Edited by George W. E. Nickelsburg and George W. MacRae. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986. ——. “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism.” Journal of Biblical Literature 91 (1972): 44–72. ——. The Prophet-King: Moses Traditions and the Johannine Christology. Leiden: Brill, 1967. ——. “ ‘Since Then You Would Need to Go Out of the World’: Group Boundaries in Pauline Christianity.” Pages 4–29 in Critical History and Biblical Faith. Edited by Thomas J. Ryan. Villanova, Pa.: College Theology Society, 1978. Moloney, Frances J. “A Sacramental Reading of John 13:1–38.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 53 (1991): 237–56. Moore, Stephen D. Literary Criticism and the Gospels. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. Moorman, Oliver, Jr., “Killed by Semantics: Or Was it a Keystone Kop Kaleidoscope Kaper?” Pages 71–86 in From the Ashes: Making Sense of Waco. Edited by James R. Lewis. Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1994. Morgan, Richard. “Fulfillment in the Fourth Gospel: The Old Testament Foundations.” Interpretation 11 (1957): 155–65. Moule, C. F. “Fulfillment-Words in the New Testament: Use and Abuse.” New Testament Studies 14 (1967–1968): 293–320. Nessan, Craig L. “When Faith Turns Fatal: David Koresh and Tragic Misreadings of Revelation.” Currents in Theology and Mission 22 (1995): 191–99. Neyrey, Jerome H. Honor and Shame in the Gospel of Matthew. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998. ——. An Ideology of Revolt: John’s Christology in Social-Science Perspective. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988. Nickelsburg, George W. E. Resurrection, Immortality and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972. Niebuhr, H. Richard. The Social Sources of Denominationalism. New York: World Publishing, 1929. Nitzan, Bilhah. “The Pesher and Other Methods of Instruction.” Pages 209–20 in Mogilany 1989: Papers on the Dead Sea Scrolls in Memory of Jean Carmignac, Part 2: The Teacher of Righteousness, Literary Studies. Edited by Zdzislaw J. Kapera. Krakow: Enigma, 1991. Olson, Daniel V. A. “Fellowship Ties and the Transmission of Religious Identity.” Pages 32–53 in Beyond Establishment: Protestant Identity in a Post-Protestant Age. Edited by Jackson Carroll and Wade Clark Roof. Louisville: Westminster, 1993. O’Rourke, John. “John’s Fulfillment Texts.” Sciences ecclésiastiques 19 (1967): 433–43. Painter, John. “Christology and the History of the Johannine Community in the Prologue of the Fourth Gospel.” New Testament Studies 30 (1984): 460–74. Perry, John M. “The Evolution of the Johannine Eucharist.” New Testament Studies 39 (1993): 22–35. Pitts, William L. Jr., “Davidians and Branch Davidians: 1929–1987.” Pages 20–42 in Armageddon in Waco. Edited by Stuart A. Wright. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995. Qimron, Elisha and Strugnell, John. Qumran Cave 4.V: Miqsat Ma’ase ha-Torah. DJD 10. Oxford: Clarendon, 1994.

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INDEX OF ANCIENT SOURCES

Old Testament/Hebrew Bible Genesis 2:23–24 15:6 15:7–21

118 118 6

Exodus 16:12–13 16:19–20 23:20 33:17–34:9

248 248 227 6

Leviticus 5:2 7:15 13:46 14:1–32 17:2–5 19:18: 19:19 19:23–24 19:30 22:16 22:28 22:29 27:32

118 108 110 110 108–109 251, 280–281, 321 113 118 118 118 110, 325 108 118

Numbers 10 11:31–32 15:30–31 19:8 19:16 19:18 21 21:9 21:18

112 123 112 118 118 118 118 271 123

Deuteronomy 6:5 6:18 7:26 9:5 12:28

251 118 114 319 118

18 21:23 22:9 23:2–4 24 25 25:4 27:9–26 29:18 30:1–3 31:29

225 291 113 118 118 118 321 80 80 115 114–115

1 Samuel 26:24

116

2 Samuel 7:15

118

1 Kings 5:15–26

76

2 Chronicles 6:42

118

Psalms 1 20 20:1 22:19 29 34 34:18 34:19 35:19 40:5 40:10 45:10 50 63:2 68:5 68:10 69:5 69:9 69:22

80 169 168 288 118 118 116 281 284 270 274 190–191 118 289 281 237–238 284 240 289

354

   

69:26 82 89:25 106:3 118:26

272 258–260 118 118 263

Ecclesiastes 12 12:4

160 169

Song of Solomon 2:4

169

Isaiah 2 2:8 3:5 3:9 5 6 6:10 7 8 9 11:1 13 13:2 26:12 35:4 40:3 40:9 53:1 53:5 54:16 55:1 56:7 61:1

160–161 175 193 175 160 6 269–270 172 172 265 139 160 169 193 264 223, 226–227 264 269, 309 270 318 253, 311 237 270

Jeremiah 2:3 3:22 7:11 17:14 30 36

112 270 237 270 160 160

Ezekiel 4 9 21 21:2 21:3 21:11 21:28

148, 152 195 155, 172–173 171–172 181 158 172, 179, 200, 332

21:31 33:24 33:27–28 33:33 35 35:15 36

47

328 175 175 165 201 182 160–161, 165 79, 99, 318, 328 156

Daniel 2:45 7:8–9 11 12:1

171 163 160 159

Joel 2

160

Amos 3:7

150

Jonah

150

Micah 4

160–161

Habbakuk 1:4 1:5 1:11 1:12 1:12–13 1:13b 2:2 2:4 2:6 2:8a 2:15

81, 126 82 84, 333 123 319 318 326 328 91 91 327

Zepheniah 1:8 2:1 3:15

170 180 263

Zechariah 2 6:2 9:9 14:

160–161 139 264 182, 199, 201

Malachi 1:10

322

44:15

   

355

New Testament Matthew 3:7–10 14:3 14:15 15:33 19:17 21:5–6 21:7 22 22:1–10 22:11–14

235 235 226 226 297 265 288 325 170 170

Mark 1:4 2:27 3:4 6:35 8:4 11:17

235 306 306 226 226 235

Luke 3:3 3:7–9 3:10–14 9:13

235 235 235 226

John 1:8 1:11 1:14–16 1:17 1:18 1:19 1:19–28 1:23 1:24 1:29–34 1:34 1:35–42 1:39 1:46 1:49–50 1:51 2:2 2:11 2:17 2:22 2:23–25 2:24–25

224 273 224–225 250 326 225 229–230 223–231, 237, 262 225 227 234 228–229 294 294 305 311 319 286 237–240, 294–295 310 238, 244, 295, 305, 307, 310 268 272

3 3:12 3:14 3:14–15 3:19–21 3:20 3:22–30 3:30 4:10–14 4:39–41 4:42 4:46–54 4:48 5:15 5:16–47 5:17 5:18 5:19 5:19–20 5:24 5:25–29 5:31–33 5:31–47 5:34 5:36 5:36–37 5:36–38 5:37 5:38 5:39 5:39, 46 5:39–40 5:44 5:45–47 5:46 5:47 6 6:1–15 6:23 6:26 6:29 6:31 6:31–58 6:36 6:32, 49 6:45 6:47

226, 228 307 271 311 166 281–282 229–230 229 6 307 305, 308 308 305 305 230 231, 259, 306 230, 232–233, 259, 334 297, 306 231 304–305, 335 232 230, 257 241–244 230, 236 259 230 231 232 305 233, 246, 266, 284, 287, 310, 327, 331 6 232, 294 305 233, 305, 306, 309 238, 305, 316 250–251, 305, 310 226 244 244 244–245 305 244–247 2–3, 311 305 6 247–249, 250 305

356 6:58 6:64 6:66 6:70 6:71 7:1 7:7 7:12 7:12–13 7:13 7:14–24 7:19 7:20 7:23 7:25 7:31 7:37 7:37–52 7:38 7:38–39 7:40 7:42 7:47 8 8:13 8:14 8:17 8:26 8:28 8:30 8:31–47 8:31–59 8:37 8:43 8:44 8:47 8:48–59 8:51 8:52 8:54–55 9 9:16 9:22 9:38 9:41 10 10:1–21 10:22–39 10: 22–42 10:25 10:25–26 10:26 10:27–28 10:30–33

    247 305 247 274 272–273 334 282 132 252–253 259, 333 250–252 334 334 5, 261 335 267 311 252–256 249–250 325 267 310 132 235, 247 257 257 257–258, 298 298–299 298–299 298 40–43 166 298, 334 298 286, 311 299 43 299, 301 6 299 336 252, 297 4 305 259 157, 234, 325 259 310 230 259 231 305 232 232

10:32 10:34 10:34–38 10:35 10:38 10:38–39 11:15 11:25–25 11:40 11:42 11:47 12:1 12:4 12:6 12:9 12:12–15 12:13–15 12:16 12:17 12:23–44 12:32–33 12:34 12:36 12:37 12:37–41 12:38 12:38–39 12:38–40 12:40 12:42 13:1–2 13:2 13:10–11 13:16 13:17 13:17–19 13:18 13:23 13:26 13:27 13:30 13:31 13:34 13:35 14:1 14:2 14:7 14:15 14:21 14:23–24

331 258–262, 281, 327 233 1, 252 305 286 305 309 305 268 298 226 273 295 267 263–266 319, 325 238–239, 266, 310 268 178 297 267, 309–310 268 272 267–271 297, 331, 335 309 328 271 4, 268, 333 277 271–272, 275 277 302 274 331 271–279, 309, 310, 318–319 207 276 272 274 279 321 286 271, 304 133 286 286, 300–301, 321 300–301, 321 301

    14:24 14:29 15 15:1 15:1–3 15:3 15:1–10 15:7 15:10 15:12 15:17 15:18 15:18–25 15:18–26 15:20 15:22 15:25 16:2 16:4 16:6 16:31 17:6 17:12 17:14 17:20 17:26 18:9 18:31–32 19:16b–37 19:23–24 19:24 19:28 19:32–36 19:34 19:35 19:37 19:38 20 20:8 20:9 20:19 20:25 20:29 21:11 21:15 27

283, 286 310 325 301 139 273–274, 302 241–243, 302 302 286, 321 321 286 258 280, 328 283 302–303, 307 258–259 284, 287, 318–319, 331–332 4, 286, 334 303 271 305 286, 303 296 286 304 286 296 297 289 287–289 252 289 289 254 291, 326 289 334 302 305 5 334 305 305 252 286 271

Acts 1:15 17:22

272 4

Romans 10:16

269

357

1 Corinthians 1:23 9:9–11

291 321

Galatians 1:20 3 3:13 4

291 76 291 325

Philipians 1:19

312

Hebrews 3:1 3:11 3:12 4:7–10 4:12 12:2

196 186, 190 165 196 158 291

James 2:10

297

2 Peter 1:15–21

161

1 John 4:2

133 292

2 John 7

133 292

Revelation 1:16 2:12 2:16 3:20 7 7:1 8:1 10 10:5 10:6 10:7 11 13:4 14:15 15:2 19 19:2 19:7 19:15 19:21

158 158 158 168 146–150, 152, 174 179 157, 171 191–192, 195 188 174, 322 159, 168, 172 161 171 155, 197 179, 333 170 181 191 158 158

   

358

Old Testament Pseudepigrapha 1 Enoch

68

Jubilees

68, 70

Dead Sea Scrolls 1 QpHab 1:2–3 1:4–5 1:1–13 1:13 1:14–17 2:1–2 2:1–3 2:1–9 2:1–10 2:2 2:3–4 2:6 2:8–10 2:10–17 2:12–14 3 3:1 3:1–15 3:4–5 3:11–12 4 4:1–15 4:10–13 4:16–5:6 4:16–17 5:1–8 5:4 5:4–5 5:5 5:5–6 5:6–8 5:8–12 5:8b-12 5:9–12 5:11 5:11–12 5:12–17 6–8 6:1–12 6:10–12 6:11–19 6:12–17 7

69–70, 75–76 78 81, 83, 120 81 80–81 120, 327 81 120 118, 122 129 81 118, 120 121 122 83, 120, 130, 326 83 84, 121, 134 121 84 83–84 84 84 121 84 333 334 85 85 122 119, 121 119, 125 119, 123, 319 119 118, 122 86 120–121 120 121 86 119 86, 121 84 319 87 120

7:1–2 7:1–8 7:2 7:4–5 7:9–14 7:9–17 7:10–11 7:11 7:11–12 7:12–13 7:16 7:17–8:31 8:1 8:1–17 8:2 8:2–3 8:8–13 9:1–2 9:1–2, 9–12 9:1–12 9:1–17 9:4 9:4–6 9:4–7 9:9–10 9:9–12 9:10–12 9:12 9:14 10:1–13 10:3–5 10:9 10:13 10:14–17 11:1 11:1–16 11:4–6 11:7–8 11:13–14 11:17 12 12–13 12:1–10

120, 129, 326 87 120 118, 120, 326–327 130 87–88 119, 319 90 89 87 89 328 90, 119, 125, 319 89–90 87, 119, 121, 319, 331 120 120 121 91 91 90 91, 121 121 91 120 120 91 85, 119 120 90–91 121 91, 120 91, 119 91 119 92 120, 327 119, 125 120 92 121 121 92–93

    12:2–5 12:3–4 12:10 12:10–17 12:10–13:4 12:14 13:1–4 14–15

119, 121 76 91 93 94, 121–122 126 94 121

1 QS 1:3 2 2:2–10 5:7–10 6:6–8 8 8:12–16 12

68–69 72 80 80 73 72–73 72 73 72

4 Q 266–273

94

4 Q d a-h

94

11QT

68

CD 1:21–2:1 1:10b–21 1:13 1:14 1:16–17 1:18 1:20 2:1 2:14–4:12a 3:7 3:7–8 3:10–12 3:18–4:4 3:20 3:20–21 4:1 4:2–4 4:12 4:12–14

67–70 95, 98, 121 97 120 120 98, 121 120, 132 98, 121 97 95 123 98, 118, 121 99 79, 119 118–122, 130 98 98 99, 328 100 100, 118, 120 121 100 100 118 101 95 121 101, 118–119

4:19 4:19b-21 5:1 5:8 5:8b–10 5:15b–6:11a 5:18 6:2b–7

6:7b–11 6:10–11 6:11b–19 6:18–19 7:6–9 7:6b–8 7:9b–21 7:9–8:3 7:12–14 7:18 7:20–8:3 8:1–2 8:7–9 8:8b–11 8:14–18 9:14–18 20:13–17 20:13b–17 4 QMMT B 1–2 8–9 9–11 11–13 14 27 27–35 29 36 37 37–38 38 39–41 42 55 62–64 64 66 66–67 66–70 69 70 70–71 70–72 72–74 73 75–76

359 102, 118, 120, 318 129 103, 118–120 125 322 119–120 104 104 118–119 119 120 121, 332 104 79 105 119, 121, 319 105–106 120–121 106 68–70, 96 120 119 107–108, 118, 119–121, 125 118 118 79, 119, 125 107–108, 118, 120–121, 125 120 109, 120 109 107, 110, 119–120, 125, 325 79 118 109, 120 109, 120 118 109, 120 79 107, 119–120, 125 110 117 79, 107, 117–118 120–121 111 111 118 109, 120 107, 112, 118–121, 125

360 76 76–77 77 77–78 79 C 4–6 6 6–7 6–8 7–11 10 11 11–12

    79, 113 107, 113, 119 79 107, 113, 118–121 113 114 79 107, 114, 118–121 118 73, 117 109, 117, 120 79, 117–118 120

12 17 17–20 18 20 21 24 25 26–27 27 28 31–32

79, 107, 114, 115, 117–118, 120–121, 331 107, 117, 120 116 117 107, 109, 116, 119, 121 79, 117 116 117–118 109, 120 116 116 118

INDEX OF AUTHORS Ammerman, Nancy 8, 141, 189 Arnold, Philip 204 Bainbridge, William Sims 8, 14, 21–23, 52, 56, 61–63, 124, 202, 310 Bernstein, Moshe 78–79 Booth, Wayne 338 Borgen, Peder 2–3, 244, 312 Brakke, David 339 Brown, Raymond 225, 338 Bultmann, Rudolf 224–225, 332 Campbell, Johnathan 94–95, 97–98, 99, 106, 131 Carmignac, Jean 76 Cohen, Shaye 12, 18–20 Culpepper, Alan 211

Martyn, J. Louis 4–5, 12, 45, 208–212, 214, 220, 221, 256, 275 Meeks, Wayne 7–8, 11, 12–15, 18, 26–27, 45, 83, 124, 130, 183–184, 208–209, 211, 244, 246, 312, 316–317, 333, 340 Murphy-O’Connor, J. 68 Niebuhr, H. Richard 56, 58 O’Flaherty, W. D. 209 Olson, Daniel 340 Pitts, William 138 Qimron, Elisha 110, 113 Rensberger, David 333

Dahl, Nils A. 6–7, 12, 312 Davies, Philip R. 67–69, 74, 128, 313 Duke, Paul 3, 255, 338–339 Fishbane, Michael 72, 79–80, 129 Fortna, Robert 290 Fraade, Steven D. 74, 216 Gallagher, Eugene 137 Garfinkel, Harold 37–39, 43, 45–46, 63, 105, 123, 189, 270, 285, 339 Geertz, Clifford 27, 162 Harding, Susan 212–215, 220–221, 249 Hays, Richard B. 311–312 Hostetler, John A. 183 Iannaccone, Laurence 56, 60–61 Jeremias, Gert. 68 Johnson, Benton 56, 58, 62 Keck, Leander E. 285–286 Kelsey, David 1 Leroy, Herbert 339 Lim, Timothy 77

Smith, J. Z. 209 Stark, Rodney 8, 12, 14–18 Stegemann, Hartmut 68 Strugnell, John 110, 113 Suleiman, Susan 218 Swett, Mark 145 Swidler, Ann 10, 27, 29–34, 36, 46, 48, 53, 55–56, 63, 65, 92, 124–125, 133, 135, 174, 176–177, 182, 192–193, 203, 205–206, 249, 320–322, 336 Tabor, James 137, 138–139, 142–144, 205, 323–325 Troeltsch, Ernst 56, 62 Turner, Victor 209 Walzer, Michael 35–36, 173 Weber, Max 35, 52, 56, 317 Witten, Marsha 50–52, 216–220, 240, 246, 337 Wilson, Bryan 8, 56–60, 63, 64, 183 Wuthnow, Robert 8, 25–27, 33, 34, 46, 47–48, 49–50, 53, 54, 63, 80, 82–83, 85, 92, 126–127, 135, 155, 176–177, 185, 210–211, 215, 216, 220, 240, 247, 248, 320, 324, 337–338