0028–6885 | volume 56 | number 4 | october 2010
NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES Published quarterly in association with studiorum novi testamenti societas
NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES
Published under the auspices of Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas
EDITOR OF NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES J. M. G. Barclay (Durham, England)
New Testament Studies (issn 0028–6885) is published four
Editorial Board D. Allison (Pittsburgh Seminary, PA, USA) K. Backhaus (München, Germany) D. Balch (Pacific Lutheran Seminary, CA, USA) I. Dunderberg (Helsinki, Finland ) J. Fitzgerald (Miami, FL, USA) C. Gerber (Hamburg, Germany) M. Holmes (Bethel College, St. Paul, MN, USA) C. Karakolis (Athens, Greece) M. Konradt (Heidelberg, Germany) H. Löhr (Münster, Germany) L. M. McDonald (Arizona, USA) M. MacDonald (Antigonish Nova Scotia, Canada) H. Moxnes (Oslo, Norway) A. Reinhartz (Ottawa, Canada) D. Sim (Melbourne, Australia) G. Steyn (Pretoria, South Africa) F. Tolmie (Bloemfontein, South Africa) H. van de Sandt (Tilburg, The Netherlands)
EDITOR OF THE SNTS MONOGRAPH SERIES J. M. Court (Canterbury, England) THE OFFICERS OF THE SOCIETY ex officio: President of the Society for 2010–2011: A. Yarbro Collins, (Yale, CT, USA) Past-President : A. Lindemann, (Bielefeld, Germany) President-Elect : A. Puig I Tàrrech, (Barcelona, Spain) Deputy President-Elect: H.J. De Jonge (Leiden, Netherlands) Secretary : M. de Boer, (Amsterdam, Netherlands) Assistant Secretary : A. Clarke, (Aberdeen, Scotland) Treasurer : H. K. Bond, (Edinburgh, Scotland) For further information on the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas, please look at the website at https://www.surfgroepen.nl/sites/snts
New Testament Studies is an international peer-reviewed periodical whose contributors include the leading New Testament scholars writing in the world today. The journal publishes original articles and short studies in English, French and German on a wide range of issues pertaining to the origins, history, context and theology of the New Testament and early Christianity. All contributions represent research at the cutting edge of the discipline, which has developed a wide range of methods. The journal welcomes submissions employing any such methods, such as exegetical, historical, literary-critical, sociological, hermeneutical and theological approaches to the New Testament, including studies that employ gender, ethnicity or ideology as categories of analysis, and studies in its history of interpretation and effects. Scholars who wish to publish in New Testament Studies but are not able to compose academic material in one of the three languages used by the Journal (English, German and French) are advised to contact the editor, Professor John Barclay
[email protected], to seek advice regarding the possible translation of their work into one of these languages.
While reviews are not published in this journal, the October issue carries a Books Received list of books received in the previous year. Review copies should be sent to the Editor. Subscriptions times a year in January, April, July and October. Four parts form a volume. The subscription price which includes delivery by air where appropriate plus electronic access to institutional subscribers, (but excluding vat) of volume 56 is £135 (us $249 in usa, Canada and Mexico) for institutions and £46 (us $76 in usa, Canada and Mexico) for individuals. Students may subscribe at £20 (us $36 in the usa, Canada and Mexico). Single parts are £35 net (us $62 in usa, Canada and Mexico) plus postage. The electronic only price available to institutional subscribers is £123 (us $223 in usa, Canada and Mexico). Members of Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas receive New Testament Studies at special terms. eu subscribers (outside the uk) who are not registered for vat should add vat at their country’s rate. vat registered members should provide their vat registration number. Japanese prices for institutions (including asp delivery) are available from Kinokuniya Company Ltd, p.o. box 55, Chitose, Tokyo 156, Japan. Orders which must be accompanied by payment, may be sent to a bookseller, subscription agent or direct to the publisher : Cambridge University Press, The Edinburgh Building, Shaftesbury Road, Cambridge cb2 8ru, uk; or in the usa, Canada and Mexico: Cambridge University Press, Journals Fulfillment Department, 100 Brook Hill Drive, West Nyack, New York 10994–2133. Copies of the journal for subscribers in the usa, Canada and Mexico are sent by air to New York to arrive with minimum delay. Periodicals postage paid at New York, NY and at additional mailing offices, POSTMASTER: send address changes in USA, Canada and Mexico to New Testament Studies, Cambridge University Press, 100 Brook Hill Drive, West Nyack, New York 10994-2133, claims for missing issues should be made immediately on receipt of the subsequent issue. For all queries worldwide, email
[email protected] Copying This journal is registered with the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, ma 01923 (www.copyright.com). Organizations in the usa who are also registered with ccc may therefore copy material (beyond the limits permitted by sections 107 and 108 of us copyright law) subject to payment to ccc. This consent does not extend to multiple copying for promotional or commercial purposes. isi Tear Sheet Service, 3501 Market Street, Philadelphia, p.a. 19104, usa, is authorized to supply single copies of separate articles for private use only. Organizations authorized by the Copyright Licensing Agency may also copy material subject to the usual conditions. For all other use, permission should be sought from Cambridge or the American Branch of Cambridge University Press. http://www.cambridge.org/uk/information/rights Internet Access Information on New Testament Studies and all other Cambridge journals can be accessed via www.journals.cambridge.org
© Cambridge University Press 2010
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000159
The Eagle and the Dove: Roman Imperial Sonship and the Baptism of Jesus (Mark 1.9-11)* M I C H AE L P E P PAR D Dept. of Theology, Fordham University, Bronx, NY 10458, USA. email:
[email protected]
This essay argues that the common understanding of imperial divine sonship among biblical scholars can be reframed by emphasizing the importance of adoption in Roman society and imperial ideology. A case study from the Gospel of Mark—the portrayal of Jesus’ baptism—demonstrates some of the pay-off for reading the NT with a newly contextualized perspective on divine sonship. Through engagement with diverse sources from the Hellenistic and Roman eras, the dove will be interpreted as an omen and counter-symbol to the Roman eagle, which was a public portent of divine favor, election, and ascension to power. Keywords: Son of God, divi filius, baptism, dove, emperor, adoption, mimicry
The new age has a savior figure, the greatest benefactor of all times, the divi filius…the victorious Augustus. —Helmut Koester Some of the most stimulating recent scholarship in religious studies has been done on the interface between political and religious power, and NT scholarship is no exception. Through publications and conferences, the research on Roman political ideology, emperor worship, and early Christianity is proliferating—and much of it is excellent. To cite only a small sample of recent or representative types, one could note the text-specific studies on the Gospels, * A version of this essay was presented at the New England SBL Meeting. Subsequently I received helpful suggestions from many colleagues, especially Adela Yarbro Collins and the anonymous reviewer for NTS. H. Koester, From Jesus to the Gospels (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) . R. Horsley, Jesus and Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress, ); J. D. Crossan and J. L. Reed, Excavating Jesus (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ).
MICHAEL PEPPARD
the epistles, or Revelation, which ask how particular texts have resisted or accommodated the demands of empire. Other scholars have addressed a certain topic or theme that spans different texts and centuries, such as the titles or narratives shared by Jesus Christ and the emperor, the worship of the emperor and the worship of Jesus Christ, conceptions of the imperial family and the Christian family, and the relationship between imperial power structures and Christian communal self-understanding. Some have tried to issue a general wake-up call to their colleagues about the importance of all these topics for historians of early Christianity. Yet despite this burgeoning field of scholarship, which brings the historical fact of imperial power to bear on diverse aspects of early Christianity, some of the R. Horsley, ed., Paul and Empire (Harrisburg: Trinity, ); J. D. Crossan and J. L. Reed, In Search of Paul (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, ); A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Psalms, Phil. :-, and the Origins of Christology’, BibInt () –; P. Oakes, ‘Re-mapping the Universe: Paul and the Emperor in Thessalonians and Philippians’, JSNT () –. S. J. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John (Oxford: Oxford University, ); cf. J. Frey, ‘The Relevance of the Roman Imperial Cult for the Book of Revelation: Exegetical and Hermeneutical Reflections on the Relation between the Seven Letters and the Visionary Main Part of the Book’, The New Testament and Early Christian Literature in Greco-Roman Context: Studies in Honor of David E. Aune (ed. J. Fotopoulos; NovTSup ; Leiden: Brill, ) –. A. Deissmann, Licht vom Osten (Tübingen: Mohr, nd and rd ed. ) –; cf. D. Cuss, Imperial Cult and Honorary Terms in the New Testament (Fribourg: University, ); H. Koester, From Jesus to the Gospels, –, emphasizes the narrative comparisons between Augustus and Jesus, especially the eschatological tenor of Augustus’s principate. E. Lohmeyer, Christuskult und Kaiserkult (Tübingen: Mohr, ); D. L. Jones, ‘Christianity and the Roman Imperial Cult’, ANRW .. () –; A. Yarbro Collins, ‘The Worship of Jesus and the Imperial Cult’, The Jewish Roots of Christological Monotheism (ed. C. C. Newman, J. R. Davila, and G. S. Lewis; Leiden: Brill, ) –; G. Heyman, The Power of Sacrifice: Roman and Christian Discourses in Conflict (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America, ). M. R. D’Angelo, ‘Abba and “Father”: Imperial Theology and the Jesus Traditions’, JBL () –; J. S. Jeffers, ‘The Influence of the Roman Family and Social Structures on Early Christianity in Rome’, Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers (ed. D. J. Lull; Atlanta: Scholars, ) –; E. M. Lassen, ‘The Use of the Father Image in Imperial Propaganda and Corinthians :-’, Tyndale Bulletin () –. M. Dibelius, Rom und die Christen im ersten Jahrhundert (Heidelberg: C. Winter, ); A. Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire (Berkeley: University of California, ); A. Brent, The Imperial Cult and the Development of Church Order (Leiden: Brill, ); C. Ando, Imperial Ideology and Provincial Loyalty in the Roman Empire (Berkeley: University of California, ) esp. –, n. . W. Carter, The Roman Empire and the New Testament (Nashville: Abingdon, ); S. D. Moore, Empire and Apocalypse (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, ); J. Meggitt, ‘Taking the Emperor’s Clothes Seriously: The New Testament and The Roman Emperor’, The Quest for Wisdom: Essays in Honour of Philip Budd (ed. C. Joynes; Cambridge: Orchard Academic, ) –.
The Eagle and the Dove
most fascinating connections between the Roman emperor and Jesus Christ have yet to be treated in detail. My research explores the idea and practice of divine sonship in the Roman imperial context of early Christianity. In this essay, I first discuss the origin and propagation of the imperial ‘son of god’ concept. I argue that the common understanding of imperial divine sonship among biblical scholars can be reframed and broadened by emphasizing the importance of adoption in Roman society and imperial ideology. A case study from the Gospel of Mark— the portrayal of Jesus’ baptism—demonstrates some of the pay-off for reading the NT with a newly contextualized perspective on divine sonship. Readers of Mark have long noted the allusions to Jewish scriptures in the baptism account, and those will not be rejected here. But how would a listener more attuned to Roman culture than the Jewish scriptures have understood this short narrative? Better yet, how would a Roman Jewish listener have understood it? What connections and conclusions might that listener have made concerning the identity of Jesus? Reading the baptism of Jesus through the lens of Roman culture and imperial ideology encourages one to see the baptismal scene as an adoption, the beginning of Jesus’ accession as a counter-emperor. Through engagement with diverse primary sources from the Hellenistic and Roman eras, the dove will be interpreted as an omen and counter-symbol to the Roman eagle, which was a public portent of divine favor, election, and ascension to imperial power. Concomitantly the overall reading challenges the supposedly ‘low’ christological connotations of such an adoption to divine sonship. This is the topic of my book, The Christian Son of God in the Roman World (New York: Oxford University, projected –). The analysis of how the concept ‘divine’ applies to the Roman emperors is important but cannot be undertaken here. Cf. I. Gradel, Emperor Worship and Roman Religion (Oxford: Oxford University, ), and M. Peppard, ‘To Deify Him Even More: Shifting Perspectives on Divinity and Emperor Worship in the Roman World’, Early Christianity (forthcoming, ). Some specialized studies include T. H. Kim, ‘The Anarthrous huios theou in Mark : and the Roman Imperial Cult’, Bib () –; and R. Mowery, ‘Son of God in Roman Imperial Titles and Matthew’, Bib () –. But scholars are just beginning to interpret the ‘son of God’ connection between the emperor and Jesus Christ, e.g. A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Mark and His Readers: The Son of God Among Greeks and Romans’, HTR () –; and A. Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary (ed. H. W. Attridge; Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, ) –. C. P. Thiede, Jesus und Tiberius: Zwei Söhne Gottes (Munich: Luchterhand, ) takes an iconoclastic approach to the issue. I do not mean to reinforce an artificial divide between ‘Jewish’ and ‘Roman’ listeners. I think the audience of Mark is diverse, and many of its members were culturally variegated in themselves. But imagining a listener attuned to Roman culture, even first as a heuristic device, allows us to imagine the reception of the text differently. By counter-emperor, I do not mean simply that Jesus is depicted as against the emperor. I use ‘counter’ in the sense of musical counterpoint, which is a musical figure or theme that is independent but also interdependent with another musical line. The counterpoint is constantly interacting with the other line and in some sense drawing its motif from the pervasive melody.
MICHAEL PEPPARD
. Roman Emperor as ‘Son of God’: Origin and Propagation of the Title
To the Emperor Caesar, God, Son of God, Augustus —inscription from Macedonia According to standard introductions, the origin of the ‘son of god’ title in the Roman Empire is simply explained. Julius Caesar was considered divine during his lifetime by some and was, in any case, declared a god of the Roman state— divus Iulius—after his assassination. During the ensuing battle for power with Mark Antony, Octavian (later ‘Augustus’) used his status as Caesar’s son to bolster his legitimacy—a status that Antony had desired for himself. Octavian was therefore able to call himself, and was called, divi filius or ‘son of god’. This claim of continuity with Caesar was sufficient to rouse troops and public support for the defeat of his rivals and consolidation of imperial powers. So goes the handbook version, and it is correct, as far as it goes. But there is much more to say, a series of questions to be explored. Why did Octavian choose this particular claim to portray his legitimacy? To what social mores was he appealing? Did it matter that he was not a biological son of Caesar, but an adopted son? Within what matrix of cultural practices was that intelligible? After Augustus, how did divine sonship propagate through later emperors? The adoption of Octavian by Julius Caesar is described by several ancient sources, some of which date from the Augustan age. Although Caesar had a [αὐτοκράτορι Kαίσ]α[ρι θ]1ῶι θ1οῦ [υἱῶι] Σ1βαστῷ. V. Ehrenberg and A. H. M. Jones, Documents Illustrating the Reigns of Augustus & Tiberius (Oxford: Clarendon, nd ed. ) no. ; cf. no. and esp. no. : ‘Tiberius Caesar Augustus, God, son of the August Gods, Emperor of land and sea, Benefactor and Savior of the whole world’. There are many regional studies for relevant data, e.g. for the Roman province of Greece, see M. Kantiréa, Les dieux et les dieux augustes: Le culte impérial en Grèce sous les Julio-claudiens et les Flaviens: Etudes épigraphiques et archéologiques (MEΛETHMATA ; Athens: Kέντρον ‘Eλληνικῆς καὶ Pωμαïκῆς ’Aρχαιότητος τοῦ ’Eθνικοῦ ’Iδρύματος ’Eρ1υνῶν; Paris: Diffusion de Boccard, ). Jan. BCE, after which Octavian was divi filius. Expert and distinctive assessments of Caesar’s divinity can be found in L. R. Taylor, The Divinity of the Roman Emperor (Middletown: American Philological Association, ) –; S. Weinstock, Divus Julius (Oxford: Clarendon, ); and Gradel, Emperor Worship, –. The topic cannot be treated here, except as it relates to the issue of divine sonship. On the translation of divus as ‘god’, see Gradel, Emperor Worship, –. Cf. Nicolaus of Damascus Life of Augustus , where Antony was thought to have overly exalted Caesar during the Lupercalia in the hopes of being adopted as his son. Nicolaus of Damascus’ Life of Augustus (Smith College Classical Studies ; Northampton, ). Cf. Appian Civil Wars .-. The adoption of Octavian is described in: Nicolaus of Damascus Life , , , –, –; Livy Periochae .; Appian Civil Wars .-; Suetonius Jul. .; Aug. .; ..
The Eagle and the Dove
biological son, Caesarion, by Cleopatra, he had long showed favor for Octavian, his great-nephew. Before he died, he had adopted Octavian in his will—a quasi-legal practice usually called ‘testamentary adoption’—but kept this fact secret from Octavian. While alive, however, Caesar’s special fondness for Octavian, and even his treatment of him as a son, was clear to those who spent time with them together. His decision to make Octavian his heir was further strengthened by favorable omens. It was also said that Octavian’s mother, Atia, had been visited and impregnated by Apollo. Just as Caesar’s own divinity was supported by divine ancestry, traced to Venus through Aeneas, so would Octavian’s be secured as a ‘son of Apollo’. If anyone was to carry on the charismatic leadership of Caesar, it was this young man. Octavian, for his part, preferred to be ‘son of god’ (that is, the son of divus Iulius) rather than ‘son of Apollo’, though both lineages helped establish his augustness. Surprisingly, after his divine adoptive father had been assassinated, he seems to have been only briefly vexed by the burden of inheriting the name, property, genius, and status of divus Iulius. Some relatives encouraged him to refuse the adoption out of fear for his safety amid political turmoil. But he decided that now, as Caesar’s son, he must avenge his father’s murder and carry on the noble Julian gens. He called himself, ‘Caesar, son of Caesar’, and most famously, divi filius. His filial connection to Caesar won him great public support, not to mention a vast entourage of clients, so the divi filius title was disseminated in coins, inscriptions, and monuments as part of official titulature. Aside from the name ‘Caesar’ itself, the ‘son of god’ title was what most enabled the transition to Octavian’s rule to be interpreted in the terms of Roman dynastic ideology. And yet a paradox lies at the core of this ideology: after Octavian secured sole rule over the Empire, the so-called Julio-Claudian ‘dynasty’ had no small amount of trouble propagating itself through natural, begotten sons. The emperor was actually made ‘son of god’ through the act of adoption, and this fact caused tension between ideologies of natural (begotten) sons and adopted (made) sons
Cf. M. E. Deutsch, ‘Caesar’s Son and Heir’, California Publications in Classical Philology . () –. Cf. W. Schmitthenner, Oktavian und das Testament Cäsars (Munich: C. H. Beck, ). I call it ‘quasi-legal’ because it was not present in the law codes but was enacted through a legally binding document. Nicolaus of Damascus Life , . Suetonius Aug. ., discussed below. Suetonius Aug. .. Cf. Dio .. Appian Civil Wars .; Nicolaus of Damascus Life . Nicolaus of Damascus Life . Examples abound, but for the beginning of the title, see Taylor, Divinity, .
MICHAEL PEPPARD
throughout the first century of the principate. Moreover, the fact that subsequent emperors (after Augustus) used and were called by the title might lead one to ask whether it denoted anything at all about sonship (either natural or adoptive). Perhaps the ‘son of god’ title was just honorific. Or, to re-frame the issue: in the mid-first century, as the ‘son of god’ title was also starting to be used for Jesus Christ, did it refer to an actual process of imperial sonship, whether begetting or adoption, or was it merely one of the emperor’s titles of exaltation? It is tempting at first to see the title as just one among many honorific expressions. However, the evidence suggests that the begetting and making of imperial sons was charted quite carefully by residents of the Empire, especially during the Julio-Claudian ‘dynasty’. People took note of who was born and adopted in the imperial family. Furthermore, a helpful inscription noting Nero’s divine sonship comes from the time after his adoption by Claudius but before his accession to imperial power (between – CE), thus showing that the ‘son of god’ title was connected more to his adoption than to his rule. At the end of the Julio-Claudian ‘dynasty’, the fictive lineage of sons experienced a rupture—the ‘Year of Four Emperors’ ( CE). When Vespasian and the Flavians rose to power, the ‘son of god’ title still drew on images of divine lineage, but the new era necessitated a shift in understanding. That is to say, the fact that Vespasian could be called ‘Caesar’ and ‘son of god’, although he had neither divine begetting nor imperial adoption to justify the titles, demonstrates how the terms could sometimes stand as honorifics that could be divorced from their origins. .. Begotten or Made? The tension between begotten and made divine sonship began with Julius Caesar and Augustus. During his ascendancy to divine status, Julius Caesar relied upon and propagated the image of his divine ancestry. He traced his genealogy to Aeneas, son of Venus, and her importance in Rome was starkly augmented by Caesar’s new temple to Venus Genetrix (dedicated BCE) in his Forum Iulium. In this grand building project, he honored Venus as a divine ancestor and invoked her patronage on the whole city. Such claims of divine ancestry were common among nobility from republican times, even if they were not
O. Kern, Die Inschriften von Magnesia am Mäander (Berlin, ) no. b, housed in the Staatliche Museen, Berlin. Cf. a ‘son of god’ inscription to Drusus the Younger, who was in line to be emperor but never acceded to power (IG II ). He took ‘Caesar’ in his official titulature, and ‘son of god’ is found, for example, in a plaque from Achaia (IG II ); cf. RIC . n. . His deathbed utterance is well known: Vae, puto deus fio (‘Oh dear, I think I’m becoming a god’), Suetonius Vesp. . On his connection to Aeneas, cf. Dio ... On the temple of Venus Genetrix, cf. Weinstock, Divus Julius, –.
The Eagle and the Dove
always believed. But Caesar’s own achievement of divine status changed the tenor of subsequent claims. When Octavian trumpeted himself as ‘son of god’, he needed only to appeal to his divine adoptive father, not a distant figure from hoary antiquity. Divine ancestry shifted to divine sonship. In fact, Octavian wanted to have it both ways—he was a ‘son of god’ by Caesar’s adoption and a ‘son of Apollo’ by divine begetting. (Add in his divine ancestry from Mars and the claims that he was a ‘new Romulus’ re-founding Rome, and one can see how his divine connections were diverse and powerful.) In his competition with Antony for sole possession of Roman imperium, he used both aspects of his divine sonship: the filial connection to Caesar swayed the troops and much of the public, while the patronage of Apollo served to rival Antony’s self-presentation as Dionysus or Hercules. Ultimately, though, the connection to Caesar proved most powerful, and it was this particular divine relationship—divi filius—that was propagated by adoption through the Julio-Claudian ‘dynasty’. As the divinity of the emperors—and of the whole imperial house as domus divina—became a central aspect of imperial ideology over time, claims to divine ancestry diminished in number and power. Olivier Hekster has persuasively argued that the Augustan preference for sonship to a divine emperor, rather than a distant divine genealogy, continued and intensified for subsequent emperors. He concludes, ‘The impact of empire, through the centrality and divinity of the Roman emperor, had made emphasis on divine genealogies a practice of the remote past’. To be ‘son of god’ in the Roman Empire, in the time period under consideration, meant primarily to be the son of the emperor—whether begotten or made. For the divine sonship of the Roman emperor, both begetting and adoption functioned to grant legitimacy, though in different modes. Both have resonance in a Roman understanding of father-son relations. For Augustus, the different expressions of divine sonship were mutually beneficial, as stated above. For the other famous ‘son of God’, the situation was surprisingly similar. In the first century, before the philosophically rooted, Nicene
Cf. T. P. Wiseman, ‘Domi Nobiles and the Roman Cultural Elite’, Les ‘Bourgeoisies’ municipales italiennes aux IIe et Ier siècles av. J.-C. (ed. M. Cébeillac-Gervasoni; Paris: Éditions du Centre national de la recherche scientifique; Naples: Bibliothèque de l’Institut français de Naples, ) –. Cf. the skepticism of Seneca toward such genealogies (De Beneficiis ..). Augustus crowned his new forum with the temple of Mars Ultor, dedicated to Mars in BCE for aid in avenging the murder of Caesar (ultor, ‘avenger’). Taylor, Divinity, –. D. Fishwick, The Imperial Cult in the Latin West ( vols.; Leiden: Brill, –) .–. O. Hekster, ‘Descendants of Gods: Legendary Genealogies in the Roman Empire’, The Impact of Imperial Rome on Religions, Ritual, and Religious Life in the Roman Empire (ed. L. de Blois, P. Funke, and J. Hahn; Leiden: Brill, ) –. Hekster, ‘Descendants’, .
MICHAEL PEPPARD
understanding of divine sonship became the standard, Jesus’ status as ‘son of God’ was grounded in multiple claims: there were dynastic considerations in depicting him as a son of David, who himself was a royal son of God; his miraculous infancy and childhood narratives suggested a divine begottenness from birth; and his baptismal experience suggested an adult divine election or adoption. Yet it is not surprising that a concept as challenging to grasp as divine sonship should be expressed in diverse, and even mutually exclusive, ways. One ancient scholar, well known for grappling with the concept of divine sonship, expressed the tension of the begotten/made distinction in these words: ‘concerning subjects that are obscure, and which require advancement toward understanding, often not only different but even contradictory demonstrations can become clarifications of the things sought for’. The source of this quotation is Athanasius, who favorably excerpted these words while defending a colleague’s beliefs about the divine sonship of Jesus Christ. Even Athanasius himself, champion of Nicene orthodoxy par excellence, acknowledged the complexity of portraying divine sonship. Imagine then the difficulty set before the evangelist Mark: if it is challenging to contemplate divine sonship, how much more to narrate it? Where would one begin?
. Baptism as Adoption
Calling him ‘son’, Galba led Piso into the praetorian camp, and before the assembly, he adopted him. —Suetonius Galba ‘σὺ 1ἶ ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἐν σοὶ 1ὐδόκησα’. This divine voice at Jesus’ baptism has usually been regarded by commentators as a composite allusion to
On the different inflections of ‘son of God’ in Christology, see A. Yarbro Collins and J. J. Collins, King and Messiah as Son of God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). My essay focuses on the baptism in Mark (as opposed to Matthew or Luke) because of its possible Roman provenance and the absence of a birth narrative. During his Nicene-era christological debate, he was defending the pre-Nicene position of Dionysius of Alexandria. Greek: τῶν ἀγνοουμένων, καὶ προσαγωγῆς 1ἰς ἐπίγνωσιν δ1ομένων, οὐ µόνον ἀλλοῖα πολλάκις, ἀλλὰ καὶ ὑπ1ναντία τ1κμήρια γίν1ται τῶν ἐπιζητουμένων δηλώματα. Athanasius, De Sententia Dionysii []; PG b.; critical edition in H.-G. Opitz, ed., Athanasius Werke . (Berlin: de Gruyter, ) –. I translate the baptismal voice as ‘You are my beloved son, whom I am pleased to choose’, which will sound unfamiliar to most readers of English Bibles because the translation of the KJV (‘well pleased’) has influenced almost every subsequent English translation. But that translation, which implies static approval of a pre-existing condition, does not adequately portray the verb’s dynamic agency. Most uses of the verb connote both ‘pleasedness/delight’ and ‘choice/selection’ (e.g., Macc .; Ps .//QPsa XXVIII). Cf. G. Schrenk, ‘1ὐδοκέω,
The Eagle and the Dove
Jewish scriptures. The argument goes: a listener attuned to the scriptures probably had a category in his or her mind into which to assimilate the voice as a characterization of Jesus; this new ‘anointed one’ was construed in terms of messianic expectations, which perhaps combined Davidic kingship with Isaianic restoration. My argument does not flatly reject such suggested allusions. Instead this essay offers a different reading of the scene, an interpretation that conjectures how a Roman listener might have understood the overall event—an adult male being declared a son with the accompanying descent of a bird. What category would a listener attuned to Roman culture have had in his or her mind? And what might Mark have had in his mind, when he attempted to depict Jesus’ divine sonship in a Roman milieu? It will now come as no surprise that my argument favors the ancient practice of adoption. But when this essay suggests that the baptismal scene would have been interpreted as an adoption, the implications of adoption should be understood differently than they have been by previous scholarship. The very mention of the word ‘adoption’ in the same sentence as ‘Jesus’ can stymie a conversation and kindle the ire of typically placid scholars. Furthermore, since Harnack’s History of Dogma popularized the term, ‘adoptionism’ has become
1ὐδοκία’, TDNT .–. The rendering ‘pleased to choose’ resembles the French translation in La Traduction Oecuménique de la Bible (the ‘TOB’, –): ‘il m’a plu de te choisir’. This general picture is supported by: V. Taylor, The Gospel According to St. Mark (London: MacMillan, ); C. E. B. Cranfield, The Gospel According to St. Mark (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ); W. L. Lane, The Gospel According to Mark (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ); R. A. Guelich, Mark –: (Word Biblical Commentary A; Dallas: Word Books, ); R. H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ); J. Marcus, Mark – (AB ; New York: Doubleday, ); F. J. Moloney, The Gospel of Mark (Peabody: Hendrickson, ); and R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ). Mark’s association with Rome is well known from ancient testimonia and defended by many modern scholars. Especially germane to my topic is Craig A. Evans, ‘Mark’s Incipit and the Priene Calendar Inscription: From Jewish Gospel to Greco-Roman Gospel’, Journal for the Study of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism () –, which argues for a ‘Roman reading’ of part of Mark’s prologue. I will not here take up the issue of Mark’s provenance, although I think Rome is the most likely candidate. In any case, the spread of Roman imperial ideology went far beyond the pomerium of the city: it was similarly propagated—and just as vital—at the distant frontier. The full version of this argument is forthcoming in Peppard, Christian Son of God in the Roman World. Some scholars have been open to this reading, e.g., John Donahue and Daniel Harrington, The Gospel of Mark (Sacra Pagina ; Collegeville: Liturgical, ) –; and Yarbro Collins, Mark, . For an example of the standard dogmatic rejection of an adoptionist reading, cf. J. R. Edwards, ‘The Baptism of Jesus According to the Gospel of Mark’, Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society () esp. –.
MICHAEL PEPPARD
one of heresiology’s black holes, a center of gravity which collects into itself multifarious constellations of ‘low’ Christology, obscuring any nuanced perspective on them. But adoption has been misconstrued, and an analogy might help to explain how. Not long ago, most biblical scholars thought they had an adequate understanding of slavery in the Roman Empire. They maintained an unstated assumption that slaves were destitute, without hope, at the bottom of the social system. But research has shown that this picture of Roman slavery looks more like the popular American visualization of slavery—gleaned unconsciously from Uncle Tom’s Cabin or Civil War movies—than the ancient Roman economy of status. In his book Slavery as Salvation, for example, Dale Martin demonstrated that most biblical scholars carried around an image of ancient Roman slavery that ignored a key aspect—the use of slavery as upward mobility in the Roman Empire. Through an examination of the classical sources and material culture, Martin illuminated a new way of understanding the motifs of slavery, manumission, and freedom in Pauline soteriology. I contend that there is an analogous misconception among biblical scholars about adoption in Roman culture. The crucial unstated modern assumption is that adopted sons carried a lower status than biological sons in the Roman conception of the family. In some cases this was true. But the creation of fictive kinship was common in the Roman world, and it was binding. Far from carrying a stigma, adoption could be a vehicle for prestige. What is more, the most important and visible Roman family in the first century, the imperial family, executed many high-profile adoptions which contributed to a burgeoning imperial ideology. By applying our understanding of how adopted sons were viewed in
A. Harnack, History of Dogma ( vols.; Gloucester: Peter Smith, ) uses the term to discuss earliest Christology (.-), the later Roman monarchian adoptionists (.-), and the adoptionism of eighth-century Spain (.-). M. F. Wiles, Archetypal Heresy: Arianism Through the Centuries (Oxford/New York: Clarendon, ), argues that Arianism has served the archetypal function I here ascribe to adoptionism. Marcionism also performed a similar function in ancient heresiography. D. B. Martin, Slavery as Salvation: The Metaphor of Slavery in Pauline Christianity (New Haven: Yale University, ). The best treatment of adoption in Roman society is C. Kunst, Römische Adoption: Zur Strategie einer Familienorganisation (Hennef: Marthe Clauss, ). Cf. S. Dixon, The Roman Family (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, ); M. Corbier, ‘Divorce and Adoption as Roman Familial Strategies (Le Divorce et l’adoption ‘en plus)’, Marriage, Divorce, and Children in Ancient Rome (ed. B. Rawson; Oxford: Clarendon, ) –; J. F. Gardner, Family and Familia in Roman Law and Life (Oxford: Clarendon, ) –; H. S. Nielsen, ‘QuasiKin, Quasi-Adoption and the Roman Family’, Adoption et Fosterage (ed. M. Corbier; Paris: De Boccard, ) –. On the political aspects, in addition to Kunst, cf. M.-H. Prévost, Les Adoptions politiques à Rome sous la République et le Principat (Paris: Sirey, ). Cf. Kunst, Römische Adoption, esp. –.
The Eagle and the Dove
Roman culture and the imperial family, we can better understand how Mark and others depicted the relationship of Jesus and God as son and father. This is not to say that Mark was ‘adoptionist’ in the usual sense of the term, which tends to be an imprecise catch-all for ‘low’ Christologies, as noted above. Mark’s Christology was not connected to the second- and third-century Roman ‘adoptionists’ (Theodotus and followers) nor somehow related to the so-called ‘adoptionism’ of eighth-century Spain. But Mark’s Christology can be interpreted as ‘adoptionist’, if by that term one means that Mark narratively characterizes Jesus in comparison with the adopted Roman emperor, the most powerful man-god in the universe. If readers of Mark consider the resonance of the concept of adoption in the Roman ideology of Mark’s era, it does not appear to be a ‘low’ Christology at all. To the contrary, adoption is how the most powerful man in the world gained his power.
. Dove as Omen
Διατί δὲ ἐν 1ἴδ1ι π1ριστ1ρᾶς;῞Hμ1ρον τὸ ζῶον καὶ καθαρόν. But why in the form of a dove? Gentle is that animal, and pure. —John Chrysostom Hom. in Matt. . …neque imbellem feroces progenerant aquilae columbam. …and courageous eagles do not beget unwarlike doves. —Horace Odes .. The long history of NT exegesis never fails to provide abundant interpretations —from the skeptical to the whimsical to the brilliant—of the smallest words and phrases. The words used by Mark to describe the spirit that descended on Jesus at his baptism, ‘as a dove’ (ὡς π1ριστ1ράν), certainly do not disappoint in this respect. The poet Wallace Stevens penned ‘Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird’, but one recent NT commentary offers sixteen ways of interpreting the dove. Other studies describe even more interpretations, many of which
On Theodotus and followers, see B. D. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture (Oxford: Oxford University, ) –; and W. A. Löhr, ‘Theodotus der Lederarbeiter und Theodotus der Bankier—ein Beitrag zur römischen Theologiegeschichte des zweiten und dritten Jahrhunderts’, ZNW () –. On the so-called ‘adoptionism’ of eighth-century Spain, see J. C. Cavadini, The Last Christology of the West: Adoptionism in Spain and Gaul, – (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, ). W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, The Gospel According to St. Matthew ( vols.; ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) .–. To these we now add E. P. Dixon, ‘Descending Spirit and Descending Gods: A “Greek” Interpretation of the Spirit’s “Descent as a Dove” in Mark :’, JBL () –, which interprets the dove in connection with the common Greek mythological topos of gods descending in human form.
MICHAEL PEPPARD
stretch the boundaries of plausibility. Despite these many options, there seems to be a consensus view, namely that the spirit which descends as a dove alludes to the spirit that hovered over the face of the waters at creation (Gen .). The allusion rests on the connection between water and spirit in the two images. This consensus view is far from perfect, since the spirit in Genesis is only linked to a bird through an interpretation of the verb (מרחפת/ἐπ1ϕέρ1το). Was the spirit ‘hovering’ over the waters like a bird? Genesis is not explicit. R. T. France adopts the consensus view but chooses not to speculate about the dove per se: ‘we are not aware of any ready-made dove symbolism at the time of Mark, and it seems futile to try to provide one. More probably the species of bird is not at issue, any more than it was in Gen .; the dove is mentioned simply as one of the commonest and most familiar birds’. Notice how, even as he affirms the connection with Gen ., this author reveals its tenuousness. He proposes that ‘the species of bird is not at issue, any more than it was in Gen .’, which would be a fine argument, except that there is no bird in Gen .! This essay cannot address the many options for interpreting the dove. Some of the proposed allusions are tenable, but many of them are fanciful and most are only attested from sources centuries later than Mark. Furthermore, this essay tries to imagine how a listener attuned to Roman culture might understand the dove, but most of the interpretations offered in commentaries are based squarely in the Palestinian or Babylonian Jewish traditions. The few exceptions are suggested allusions to Persian or other Near Eastern motifs. Again, let me reiterate that the connections to Jewish motifs are not rejected by my argument; rather, it presumes that Mark was written for a diverse audience.
.. Bird Omens in Roman Culture
In many ancient Mediterranean cultures, the flight of birds was pregnant with meaning. Individual birds helped seafarers navigate, while flocks of birds marked the seasons. Birds were ‘messengers’ of other meanings in diverse ways Discussed in S. Gero, ‘The Spirit as a Dove at the Baptism of Jesus’, NovT () –. E.g., Marcus, Mark –, –. Some have also proposed an allusion to Noah’s messenger bird (Gen .-), since the bird brings a sort of good news of salvation (see, e.g., Davies and Allison, Matthew, , for details and discussion of problems). The verb is used in Deut . to describe a bird, but in Jer . it portrays the shaking of bones. Another important passage is Q, where the Lord’s spirit ‘will hover upon the poor [( ’] ועל ענוים רוחו תרחף.). The anointed one is also mentioned in this fragment, but the connection between the Lord and the anointed one is unclear. Furthermore, the spirit hovers here just as in Gen ., but the issue for my essay is to what degree that invokes a bird. Q gives no reason, apart from the verb, to interpret the spirit as a bird. Finally, the spirit here hovers on the poor, not the anointed one. France, The Gospel of Mark, .
The Eagle and the Dove
throughout the Near East. Romans took special concern for augury, a precise practice that observed the flight of birds in the quadrants of the sky. But they were also attuned to the omens borne by individual birds in flight, omens which were not authorized by a college of augurs but rather by common opinion. One could say that Romans used omens to interpret and explain their experience of the world in analogous ways to how Jews used scriptures to interpret and explain their experience of the world. If scholars have had trouble interpreting the baptismal dove, perhaps that is because they have been using too limited a set of cultural symbols. So what might the alighting of a bird on a person have meant in a Roman context? Suetonius, the Roman historian and collector of tales, reports many bird omens from the lives of the emperors. For instance, he describes how an eagle was an omen of Domitian’s victory over Lucius Antonius. ‘Even before news of this success arrived, Domitian had wind of it from portents: on the very day of battle, a huge eagle embraced his statue at Rome with its wings, screeching triumphantly’. In all his accounts, Suetonius is a rich source of common Roman assessment of omens such as birds, weather, dreams, oracles, soothsayers, and unusual spectacles. Unlike other Roman historians, he prefers to record these kinds of omens instead of the official public portents and divinations common since republican Rome. Andrew Wallace-Hadrill notes that ‘Suetonius’ signs are of the types that best reveal the destinies of individuals’. Furthermore, he argues that ‘all Suetonius’ lists of signs revolve round two issues, and two only: the rise to imperial power and the fall from it’. For example, the accession of Claudius was predicted by a bird omen as he began public life: ‘Claudius entered on his belated public career as Gaius’ colleague in a two-months’ consulship; and when he first entered the Forum with the consular rods, an eagle swooped down and perched on his shoulder’. Augustus had personal eagle omens early and late in life but also at a key moment in his rise to power: ‘At Bononia, where the army of the Triumvirs Augustus, Antony, and Lepidus was stationed, an eagle perched on Augustus’ tent and defended itself vigorously against the converging attack of two ravens, bringing both of them down. This augury was noted and understood by the O. Keel, Vögel als Boten (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis ; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag Freiburg, ). Suetonius Dom. . For other eagle omens not covered in this essay, see Galba ; Vit. . Trans. of Suetonius adapted from The Twelve Caesars (trans. R. Graves; London: Penguin, ). A. Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius: The Scholar and his Caesars (New Haven: Yale University, ) . Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius, . Suetonius Claud. . Suetonius Aug. . Suetonius Aug. .
MICHAEL PEPPARD
troops as portending a rupture between their three leaders, which later took place’. Signs illuminating the rise to imperial power are especially important to this essay because, in the years preceding the Gospel of Mark, imperial power was transmitted through adoption. The most crucial imperial adoption in this period was Augustus’s adoption of Tiberius, primarily because it was the first peaceful transfer of imperial power. If Augustus had ruled because of his personal or ‘charismatic authority’, then it could not have been clear whether or how such rule could be passed on. The final omens that Suetonius records before the accession of Tiberius are revealing for our purposes: ‘Finally, a few days before the letter arrived recalling him from Rhodes [where he was exiled], an eagle—a bird never previously seen in the island—perched upon the roof of his house; and on the very eve of this welcome news the tunic into which he was changing seemed to be ablaze’. The two final omens indicating the ensuing accession of Tiberius are a bird, as at the baptism of Jesus, and a transfiguration of his tunic, as happened to Jesus above Caesarea Philippi—itself the site of an imperial temple. Suetonius’s references to eagles in the life of Vespasian bear more than analogical relevance to our topic, since Vespasian’s quelling of the incipient Jewish revolt catalyzed his accession to imperial power. Suetonius recounts the conditions of Vespasian’s accession in the following way: An ancient superstition was current in the East, that out of Judaea at this time would come the rulers of the world. This prediction, as the event later proved, referred to a Roman emperor, but the rebellious Jews, who read it as referring to themselves, murdered their Governor, routed the Governor of Syria when he came down to restore order, and captured an Eagle. To crush this uprising the Romans needed a strong army under an energetic commander, who could be trusted not to abuse his considerable powers. The choice fell on Vespasian.
The fact that the Judeans ‘captured an Eagle’ (rapta aquila) was the last straw in Suetonius’s account. This symbolic action indicated the magnitude of the revolt and the necessity for a sweeping Roman military response. Later, when Otho, Vitellius, and Vespasian were ‘disputing the purple’, an omen appeared just before the battle of Betriacum between the armies of Otho and Vitellius ( CE): ‘two eagles fought in full view of both armies, but a third appeared from the Suetonius Aug. . On the difficulties of transferring charismatic authority, see M. Weber, Economy and Society ( vols.; Berkeley: University of California, ), .–; .–. Suetonius Tib. . Suetonius Vesp. . This almost certainly alludes to the capturing of a legionary eagle from the XII Fulminata, a Roman legion whose remnant was later assigned to Titus for the assault on Jerusalem (cf. Josephus BJ .).
The Eagle and the Dove
rising sun and drove off the victor’. This final bird omen indicated that the military leader from the East would eventually accede to imperial power over both Otho and Vitellius. All these bird omens involve the rise to power, but Suetonius provides one omen associated explicitly with adoption—the adoption of Octavian by Caesar. As Julius Caesar was felling a wood near Munda in Spain to clear a site for his camp, he noticed a palm-tree and ordered it to be spared, as a presage of victory. The tree then suddenly put out a new shoot which, a few days later, had grown so tall as to over-shadow it. What was more, a flock of doves began to nest in the fronds, although doves notoriously dislike hard, spiny foliage. This prodigy was the immediate reason, they say, for Caesar’s desire that his grand-nephew, and no one else, should succeed him.
This omen does not accompany the exact moment of adoption, a procedure scarcely attested in Roman historical sources, but it does relate to the moment when Caesar knew he would adopt Octavian. What about this omen inspired Caesar’s choice? Suetonius does not interpret it. It seems clear that the ‘new shoot’ that sprouted from and outgrew Caesar’s victory tree was understood to represent Octavian’s succession of Caesar, since sprouting shoots are common in Roman folklore as symbols of successful children. The flock of doves is open to multiple interpretations—Suetonius does not cite doves as symbols anywhere else. One likely option is that the doves, often symbolic of peacefulness in ancient Mediterranean culture (see next section), portend the pax Romana inaugurated with the victory of Octavian at the battle of Actium. The ‘hard, spiny foliage’ of the civil wars would soon be occupied by the ‘doves’ of imperial peace. According to the scholar of Roman omens and divination, Annie Vigourt, the doves might also have called to mind Caesar’s special relationship to Venus Genetrix. As tempting as this final omen is for the argument of this essay, its bird imagery is ambiguous, and it seems that the sprouting tree constitutes the primary symbol. The doves add a sort of bonus to the omen. On the other hand, the frequent eagle omens exemplified above do depict a common Roman point of view: they thought that birds, especially eagles, indicated providential favor for the accession to power of the person on or near whom they alighted.
Suetonius Vesp. . Suetonius Aug. . This is a common trope; elsewhere in Suetonius, see Vesp. . A. Vigourt, Les presages impériaux d’Auguste à Domitien (Paris: De Boccard, ) . Cf. an anonymous quadrans with a bust of Venus and a dove on the reverse (RIC . nos. –). I have not documented here the use of eagles on Roman imperial coins and portraiture, but many examples could be offered. E.g., the PROVIDENTIA DEORUM coin of Trajan, which depicts an eagle descending toward him. In imperial ideology, providentia was the virtue
MICHAEL PEPPARD
. Eagles and Doves Roman authors refer to doves often enough that one can get a sense of their usual symbolism. First, Roman authors occasionally associate doves with the geographical region of Syria-Palestine. For example, the Roman elegist Tibullus (c. BCE—c. BCE), when describing the peaceful aftermath of a military victory, writes: ‘Why should I tell how the white dove, sacred in Syria-Palestine, flies safely through the crowded cities?’ In addition to the sense that the dove was sacred to those in Syria-Palestine, there may also have been knowledge of the dove and pigeon industry in the area, which provided many birds for sacrificial offerings (e.g., Mark .). But the most prevalent employment of the dove as a symbol occurs in relation to that most famous bird, the eagle. These two comprise a contrasting pair of birds, a recognizable juxtaposition of natural enemies (like the wolf and the lamb), in which one is the mighty predator and the other the timorous victim. Ovid portrays the pair in his Metamorphoses: ‘O nymph, I beg, daughter of Peneus, stay! I who pursue you am not an enemy. O nymph, stay! So lambs flee the wolf, so deer flee the lion, so doves with trembling wings flee the eagle, all things flee their enemies: but the cause of my pursuit is love’. Another example of the traditional contrast between eagle and dove occurs in Horace’s Odes. He devotes Ode . to praise of Drusus’s military might on the northern frontier (c. BCE). After noting how the Claudians were nurtured in youth by the ‘fatherly disposition of Augustus’ (Augusti paternus animus), he continues by describing how strength begets strength in the animal kingdom: ‘strong men are created (only) by strong and good men; in both steers and horses appears the virtus of their fathers, and courageous eagles do not beget unwarlike doves’. The fatherly Augustus is thus imagined as an eagle that produced a succession of warlike eagles in the Julio-Claudian ‘dynasty’. The final two lines of the stanza epitomize Horace’s style of antithetic juxtaposition. The qualities of the two birds are set side-by-side (imbellem feroces) to prepare for the juxtaposition of the two nouns to complete the stanza (aquilae columbam). Other examples could be brought to confirm the contrast of eagle and dove in the
often associated with an emperor’s provision of sons/heirs to ensure a stable succession of power. RIC . no. (= pl. XV.); cf. RIC . no. . Tibullus Elegiae .., c. BCE. Latin: Quid referam, ut volitet crebras intacta per urbes / Alba Palaestino sancta columba Syro? On doves and pigeons in this area, cf. ‘Doves and Pigeons’, ABD .-. Ovid Metamorphoses .-. Relevant Latin: sic aquilam penna fugiunt trepidante columbae, / hostes quaeque suos. Horace Odes ..-. Latin: fortes creantur fortibus et bonis; / est in iuvencis, est in equis patrum / virtus, neque imbellem feroces / progenerant aquilae columbam.
The Eagle and the Dove
Roman worldview. But we have enough here to establish that the bellicose eagle was the primary symbol of Roman military might and concomitantly of Roman imperial ideology, while the dove was a contrasting symbol of fear or nonviolence. Several examples of extra-biblical Jewish literature also utilize these symbolic roles of eagles and doves. Josephus expresses a Jewish attitude toward the Roman eagle in the build-up to the Jewish War with Rome. For example, he recounts the famous tearing down of the golden eagle, which constituted the apex of disgust with Herod, especially his collaboration with Rome. After outlining the pay-offs that Herod had made to various members of the imperial family and his own kin (AJ .-), Josephus narrates how Judas and Matthias, two men ‘well beloved by the people’, instigated many young men ‘to pull down all those works which the king had erected contrary to the law of their fathers’ (AJ .). He provides the example that Herod had erected a large golden eagle over the great gate of the Temple; although Herod claimed this eagle was dedicated to God, it was a not-so-subtle honoring of Rome that overlooked the Jerusalem Temple. Monuments such as these were common among all the client kingdoms of the Roman Empire, but the Judeans would not endure it because of their stance against idolatry. Therefore, ‘in the very middle of the day, they got upon the place, they pulled down the eagle, and cut it into pieces with axes, while a great number of the people were in the temple’ (AJ .). Josephus also provides a clear analysis of the military symbolism which the legionary eagle bore for the Romans and their enemies. As mentioned above, the Judeans had stolen a legionary eagle from the XII Fulminata legion in CE. Josephus portrays the position of such an eagle in the military procession of Vespasian’s army in Galilee: After these came the commanders of the cohorts and tribunes, having around them selected soldiers. Then came the standards surrounding the eagle, which is at the head of every Roman legion, both the king and the most warlike of all birds, which seems to them a sure sign of empire, and an omen that they shall conquer all against whom they march. These sacred things are followed by the trumpeters…
The eagle leads every Roman legion; it is the ‘king’ (βασιλ1ύς) and ‘most warlike’ (ἀλκιμώτατος) of all birds, a ‘sure sign of empire’ (τῆς ἡγ1μονίας τ1κμήριον), and an ‘omen’ of victory (κληδών). From the Roman perspective, the eagle was In a letter to Marcus Aurelius, Fronto refers to ‘sheep and doves with wolves and eagles’ (oves et columbae cum lupis et aquilis, Ep. .) as part of a legend of Orpheus. The sheep–wolf and eagle–dove pairs symbolize archetypal enemies, which Fronto claims Marcus Aurelius has brought together in harmony. For a quite different use, see Pliny Ep. ., in which he calls his little letters ‘doves’ as a contrast to his recipient’s military standards (‘eagles’). Josephus BJ .-. Trans. adapted from LCL.
MICHAEL PEPPARD
the legion’s ‘very own numen’, or divine power. With this symbolism, it is not surprising that the XII Fulminata was terrified after having its legionary eagle stolen or that the golden eagle over the Temple incited a minor sedition. The apocalypse called Ezra employs the symbol of an eagle in the seer’s fifth vision ( Ezra –). ‘I saw rising from the sea an eagle that had twelve feathered wings and three heads … [I]t reigned over the earth and over those who inhabit it. And I saw how all things under heaven were subjected to it, and no one spoke against it’ (., -). The eagle is ‘the fourth kingdom that appeared in a vision to your brother Daniel. But it was not explained to him as I now explain to you or have explained it’ (.-). The author explicitly interacts with the four kingdoms vision of Dan and reinterprets the fourth kingdom as Rome (whereas it originally symbolized the Greek or Macedonian Empire in Daniel). The vision concludes with a lion, which chastises the eagle for unrighteousness and represents ‘the Messiah whom the Most High has kept until the end of days’ (.). Although Ezra chooses to symbolize Rome as a bellicose eagle, it does not symbolize Israel’s salvation with a contrasting bird of peace. Rather, the author chooses the king of the land (a lion) to overpower the king of the air (an eagle). But elsewhere the author acknowledges that, among the species of birds, God has selected the dove for Israel: in the second vision, Ezra says, ‘O sovereign Lord,…from all the birds that have been created you have named for yourself one dove, and from all the flocks that have been made you have provided for yourself one sheep’ (.). Two other extra-biblical works provide Jewish perspectives on the dove that illuminate the matter at hand. Like Josephus and Ezra, the Biblical Antiquities of Pseudo-Philo probably emerged from Palestinian Judaism in the first century CE. Among several different uses of the dove as a symbol in this work, one scene imagines the dove as a long-suffering or even forgiving bird. In his targumic interpretation of the Jephthah story, the author expands at length on Judg .. Jephthah protests to the elders of Gilead because they had There are myriad examples of how the eagle symbolized Roman military might. In a pivotal battle against the Cherusci at the entrance to a forest, ‘the finest of auguries’ appeared: eight eagles entering the forest. Tiberius, the commander, said, ‘Go and follow the Roman birds, the legions’ very own divine powers!’ (sequerentur Romanas avis, propria legionum numina; Tacitus Ann. .). The author probably draws on the animal symbolism of a text like Ps : ‘Remember this, O Lord, how the enemy scoffs, and an impious people reviles your name. Do not deliver the soul of your dove to the wild animals’ (Ps .-). It is true that the animal here is a ( תורturtledove), not a ( יונהdove, pigeon), but the terminology oscillates, especially in translations of the Hebrew. There are, of course, other references to Israel as a dove in the Bible and Jewish literature that do not directly inform my understanding of the eagle/dove trope. Nor have I incorporated the aphoristic simile in Matt ., portraying doves as ‘pure/innocent’ (ἀκέραιος) or ‘most simple’ (ἁπλούστατος, Codex D).
The Eagle and the Dove
previously rejected him but now they begged his help in their time of distress; in short, he sternly rebukes them as hypocrites. But they respond thus: ‘Let the dove to which Israel has been compared teach you, because when her young are taken from her, still she does not depart from her place, but she puts away the injury done her and forgets it as if it were in the depth of the abyss’ (Ps-Philo .). As opposed to the aggressive eagle, the dove here depicts clemency and a spirit of forgiveness. The Letter of Aristeas contains an ethical interpretation of doves in terms of Jewish halakha. The text is well known for its allegorical and ethical interpretations of various commandments and prohibitions of the Torah. The author desires to demonstrate that the laws are not primitive or arbitrary but ‘in each particular everything has a profound reason for it, both the things from which we abstain in use and those of which we partake’ (). As one example of this rational basis, Aristeas explains why some birds are permitted and others forbidden. The birds which we use are all gentle and of exceptional cleanliness, their food consisting of wheat and pulse—such birds as doves (π1ριστ1ραί), turtledoves, [etc.] … As to the birds which are forbidden, you will find wild and carnivorous kinds, and the rest which dominate by their own strength, and who find their food at the expense of the aforementioned domesticated birds—which is an injustice … By calling them impure, he has thereby indicated that it is the solemn binding duty of those for whom the legislation has been established to practice righteousness and not to lord it over anyone in reliance upon their own strength, …in the manner of the gentle creatures among the aforementioned birds … By means of creatures like this the legislator has handed down (the lesson) to be noted by men of wisdom, that they should be righteous, and not achieve anything by brute force, nor lord it over others in reliance upon their own strength.
For Aristeas, the salient feature of these permitted birds is gentleness, which is also construed as righteousness. The vocabulary corresponds exactly to the quotation from John Chrysostom that preceded this section of the essay: the dove is ἥµ1ρος and καθαρός. On the contrary, the forbidden birds ‘dominate by their own strength’ and prey on other birds—this domination is plainly called injustice (ἀδικία). We should not forget that the first bird listed among the forbidden birds in the Levitical law is the eagle. ‘And these you shall regard as abominable among the birds, and they shall not be eaten, it is an abomination—the eagle and the Trans. adapted from J. H. Charlesworth, ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha ( vols.; New York: Doubleday, ) .. A more negative interpretation of such behavior is that the doves are timorous prey, as stated in b. B. Qam. a: ‘there is none among the birds more persecuted than doves’. Trans. adapted from OTP .. Let. Arist. –. Trans. adapted from OTP ..
MICHAEL PEPPARD
vulture and [etc.]’ (Lev . LXX). In the Torah, the eagle further symbolizes how a foreign nation can powerfully overtake Israel, such as Rome had done in the first century: ‘The Lord will bring a nation from far away, from the end of the earth, to swoop down on you like an eagle, a nation whose language you do not understand’ (Deut .). Aristeas envisions the dove as the primary symbol of gentleness, purity, and even righteousness among the birds of the air, as opposed to the eagle, which is the abomination among birds in the Torah. Israelites are called to ‘practice righteousness’, like the dove, and not ‘achieve anything by brute force’, like the eagle. The eagle/dove trope can even be found centuries later—in Christian discourse. In his oration on ‘Holy Baptism’ before baptismal candidates, Gregory of Nazianzus encourages them to protect themselves from the temptations of urban life: ‘As much as possible, flee also from the marketplace along with the good company, putting on yourself the wings of an eagle—or, to speak more appropriately, of a dove. For what do you have to do with Caesar or the things of Caesar?’ It is a playful turn of phrase, of which there are many in Gregory’s corpus, but as such it attests to the recognizable symbolism of the eagle/dove pair in the Roman world. The imagery was stable enough that the imperial eagle and the baptismal dove could be conjured in a quick, almost parenthetical remark. At this feast-day sermon on baptism in fourth-century Constantinople, Gregory knew he could play on his audience’s ‘common sense’ interpretation of doves—a Christian counterpoint to the eagle omens and imagery of imperial lore.
. A Different Kind of Power
This foray into Roman, Jewish, and early Christian literature has wandered from the target text for our exegesis, the baptism of Jesus in Mark. With this analysis of the eagle and the dove, we can now step back to assess our original topic: when Mark depicts the dove at Jesus’ baptism, what is he up to? And how might this affect a listener attuned to Roman culture? This essay has tried to show that, with the baptism, Mark begins a narrative characterization of Jesus as a counter-emperor. This Jesus of Nazareth is an adopted heir to power. The dove is a bird omen of the transmission of power from father to son. This counter-emperor will rule not in the spirit of the bellicose eagle, but in the spirit of the pure, gentle, peaceful, and even sacrificial dove. The LXX states: βδέλυγμά ἐστιν—τὸν ἀ1τὸν…[etc.]. The proximity of these two words suggests a possible interpretation of Mark .. The βδέλυγμα to which Mark refers could be the golden eagle set up over the temple by Herod. It would be difficult to argue definitively for this reading, but the historical event (combined with Mark’s text) resonates with this passage of the Levitical law. Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . (In sanctum baptisma, PG .).
The Eagle and the Dove
Furthermore, this characterization of Jesus can be construed in terms of colonial mimicry. In postcolonial theory, the concept of mimicry has been described as ‘a reinscription or duplication of colonial ideology by the colonized’. It describes instances in which the colonized produces discourse that simultaneously and necessarily mimics the domination of the colonizer even as it differentiates itself and disavows the other. In the theory of Homi Bhabha, ‘colonial mimicry is the desire for a reformed, recognizable Other, as a subject of a difference that is almost the same, but not quite … [M]imicry emerges as the representation of a difference that is itself a process of disavowal’ (italics original). Therefore, the colonized subject is not an autonomous agent that cleanly and in its own terms renounces the colonizer. The very process and signification of disavowal is necessarily intertwined with the powerful discourse of the authoritative other. Stated another way, the act of disavowing the colonizer depends on the forms through which the colonizer enacted its domination. Bhabha again: ‘It is as if the very emergence of the “colonial” is dependent for its representation upon some strategic limitation or prohibition within the authoritative discourse itself’. Hence the eagle and the dove: a bird descends and absolute power comes upon a son of God—almost the same, but not quite. Read in the light of Roman imperial ideology, the narrative characterization of Jesus’ baptism mimics the accession of imperial power even as it disavows the authority and methods of imperial power. It mimics Roman imperial adoption but disavows the militaristic type of power transmitted through adoption. It mimics the bird omens of Roman warfare and imperial lore but disavows the dominating war-symbol of the Roman eagle. The bird omen of the dove instead portends the accession of a different son of God, whose rise to power, though it would be mocked and suspended by the colonial authority, would ultimately be vindicated by his adoptive father.
The interpretation of the dove as colonial mimicry builds on—or rather, provides a theoretical foundation for—many of the astute observations about Mark and Roman power made by scholars such as D. Senior, ‘With Swords and Clubs: The Setting of Mark’s Community and His Critique of Abusive Power’, BTB () –; and J. Donahue, ‘Windows and Mirrors: The Setting of Mark’s Gospel’, CBQ () –. An intriguing parallel to this example of narrative mimicry is the report of the emperor Titus’s death in rabbinic literature (Lev. Rab. .), which ends with God’s killing of Titus by means of a mosquito that transforms into a dove at the autopsy. For interpretation of this account as colonial mimicry, in part based on an eagle/dove trope, see J. Levinson, ‘“Tragedies Naturally Performed”: Fatal Charades, Parodia Sacra, and the Death of Titus’, Jewish Culture and Society Under the Christian Roman Empire (ed. R. Kalmin and S. Schwartz; Leuven: Peeters, ) –. T.-S. B. Liew, ‘Tyranny, Boundary and Might: Colonial Mimicry in Mark’s Gospel’, JSNT () . H. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, ) . Bhabha, Location, .
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000093
Die markinischen Summarien—ein literarischer und theologischer Schlu¨ssel zu Markus 1–6* EV E- MA R I E B E C K E R Department of Biblical Studies, Faculty of Theology, Aarhus University Taasingegade 3, DK-8000 Aarhus C. email:
[email protected]
On the basis of a concise definition of the literary form of a summary/ Summarium/sommaire that has to be distinguished from epitome (e.g. Mk .f.; .) or ‘Geschichtsabriss’ (cf. Acts), this contribution analyzes the literary and theological function of all three summaries that can be found in Mark – (.–; .–; .–). By these summaries the author of the Markan Gospel not only provides a macro-textual structure for his narrative, but also gives a theological interpretation and a narrative emplotment of Jesus’ Galilean ministry, and thus carries forward essential parts of the Gospel story. Keywords: Summary/Summarium/Sammelbericht, Mark –, Mk .–, .–, .–, emplotment . Zur Form und Funktion eines Summariums—Mk .– als Beispiel Als es aber Abend geworden war, als die Sonne untergegangen war, brachten sie alle (πάντας) zu ihm, denen es schlecht ging und die dämonisch besessen waren. Und es war die ganze (ὅλη) Stadt versammelt vor der Tür. Und er heilte viele (πολλούς), denen es schlecht ging—(die) mit verschiedenartigen Krankheiten—und trieb viele (πολλά) Dämonen aus und ließ die Dämonen nicht reden, denn sie kannten ihn.
Mk .– wird in der Markus-Exegese gemeinhin als ein sog. Sammelbericht oder als Summarium bzw. ‘summary’ oder ‘sommaire’
* Shortpaper, gehalten bei der Tagung der Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas am .. in Wien. A. Yarbro Collins, Mark. A Commentary, Minneapolis (Hermeneia), ; J. Marcus, Mark –. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, New Haven/London (AncB ), . C. Focant, L’évangile selon Marc, Paris (Commentaire biblique. Nouveau Testament ), .
Die markinischen Summarien
bezeichnet. Es handelt sich um eine summarische Zusammenfassung des Wunderwirkens Jesu: Jesus heilt viele Kranke und Besessene auf einmal. Adela Yarbro Collins versteht den Textabschnitt in ihrem Markus-Kommentar von zuletzt als ein ‘editorial summary’, d.h. sie bewertet ihn als eine kurze editorische Zusammenfassung und mißt ihm so faktisch weder literarisch noch theologisch eine eigenständige Bedeutung bei. Ich möchte eine andere Bewertung des Textes vorschlagen, die die spezifische literarische und theologische Bedeutung der Summarien in den Blick nimmt, und beginne mit einer eigenen Betrachtung des ersten Summariums. Das Summarium in .– hat zunächst eine anaphorische Erzählfunktion. Denn die Themen ‘Exorzismus und Krankenheilung’ wurden bereits früher in Kapitel eingeführt: In Mk .– lehrt Jesus am ersten Tag seines Wirkens in der Synagoge in Kapernaum und fungiert hier als Exorzist. Unmittelbar danach, in .–, wirkt er als ein Wunderheiler, indem er—immer noch in Kapernaum weilend—im Haus des Petrus dessen Schwiegermutter vom Fieber heilt. Im Summarium werden die Erzählmotive von Krankheit (.) und dämonischer Besessenheit (.) nun terminologisch neu gefasst und dabei gewissermaßen auch abstrahiert: Denn nun ist verallgemeinernd von Dämonen und Menschen, ‘denen es schlecht ging’, die Rede. In . war die Krankheit der Schwiegermutter des Petrus konkret als πυρέσσουσα bezeichnet, in . spricht Markus von τούς κακῶς ἔχοντας. Wurde die dämonische Besessenheit in . als ἐν πνεύματι ἀκαϑάρτῳ gefasst, so heißen die Besessenen in . hingegen τούς δαιμονιζομένους. So lässt sich im Summarium in .– beides beobachten: die Wiederaufnahme oder Rekapitulation von bereits bekannten Erzählmotiven und deren sprachlich-abstrahierende Neuformulierung. Das Summarium fungiert in narrativer Hinsicht also als variierende Wiederholung, die hyperbolische Züge trägt. Über diese ersten Textwahrnehmungen führen die Beobachtungen hinaus, die Ulrich Wendel zu den sprachlichen und grammatischen Formmerkmalen für synoptische Summarien insgesamt gemacht hat. Sie finden sich auch in Mk .– P. Dschulnigg, Das Markusevangelium, Stuttgart (ThKNT ), sieht in .– eine dreiteilige Struktur vorliegen: V. Exposition; V. Mitte; V. Schluss: ‘Es handelt sich um einen Sammelbericht (Summarium) über die Heilung vieler Kranker und Besessener durch Jesus. Summarien verallgemeinern, steigern und sprechen hyperbolisch von der umfassenderen Heiltätigkeit Jesu, die über Erzählungen von einzelnen Wundertaten hinausgeht’, ebd. (Markierungen im Text sind nicht wiedergegeben). A. Yarbro Collins, Mark, . – D. E. Aune, The New Testament in Its Literary Environment, Cambridge , und spricht allgemein von ‘summary reports’, was dem konstruierten Charakter der Summarien näherkommt, s. dazu unten. Vgl. A. Yarbro Collins, Mark, f. Vgl. P. Dschulnigg, Markusevangelium, : ‘Redaktionskritisch gesehen betont der Sammelbericht über viele Heilungen erstmals hyperbolisch Jesu umfassende Wundertätigkeit’.
EVE-MARIE BECKER
und weisen den Text damit der Textgruppe der Summarien zu, ja sie machen unseren Ausgangstext sogar zu einem prototypischen markinischen Summarium. Bevor wir den Text diachron betrachten (s.u. .), zunächst weiter zur synchronen Textbeschreibung: Mk .– ist ein eigenständiger Textabschnitt, der eine in sich abgeschlossene literarische Einheit darstellt. Denn der Text ist durch Zeitund Ortsangaben formal-literarisch von seinem Mikrokontext nach vorne (.) und nach hinten (.) abgrenzbar: Die im Vergleich zur Gesamtlänge des Textes relativ ausführliche einleitende Wendung in V. —‘als es aber Abend geworden war, als die Sonne untergegangen war’—markiert den Einsatzpunkt der summarischen Erzählung und grenzt V. von der vorausgehenden Heilungsgeschichte ab. Nach hinten wird der Textabschnitt durch das Schweigegebot in V. sowie durch eine neue Zeit- und Ortsangabe, die Jesu Aufbruch aus Kapernaum in V. einleitet, abgegrenzt: ‘Und früh, als es noch dunkel war…’. Besonders interessant sind die Zeitangaben in V. und V. , die an einander anknüpfen, mehr noch: ‘Die zweite erläutert die erste und malt sie aus’: V. :
V. :
ὀψίας δὲ γενομένης, ὅτε ἔδυ ὁ ἥλιος…
καὶ πρωῒ ἔννυχα λίαν…
Mit Hilfe dieser chronologischen Angaben historisiert Markus den Erzählzusammenhang in Kapitel . Zugleich aber dramatisiert er die Erzählung, denn er stellt vor Augen, wie Jesus selbst in der Nacht noch als Wunderheiler und Exorzist tätig ist. Dabei findet zumindest die Erzählfolge in Mk .– an einem Tag und an einem Ort statt: die Heilung der Es handelt sich dabei besonders um terminologische, grammatische und narrative Elemente: Vgl. U. Wendel, Gemeinde in Kraft. Das Gemeindeverständnis in den Summarien der Apostelgeschichte, Neukirchen-Vluyn (Neukirchener Theologische Dissertationen und Habilitationen Band ), f. nennt hier: ‘Terminologie’ (v.a. maximale Größenangaben), ‘Grammatik’ (‘Das Verbum steht oft im Imperfekt’), ‘Explizite Zeitangaben’ und den ‘Bezug zum Erzählverlauf’ (‘Die ntl. Summarien sind keine Rückblicke, sondern treiben den Erzählfaden durchaus voran’). Dies gilt, auch wenn etwa Dieter Lührmann Mk .– insgesamt als einen ‘summarisch Jesu Wirken beschreibenden Abschnitt’ bezeichnet D. Lührmann, Markusevangelium, . J. Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus. . Teilband Mk –,, Neukirchen-Vluyn (EKK II/), . Vgl. M. Dibelius, Formgeschichte, : Markus liegt ‘an der historisierenden Darstellung’. Einige Exegeten—so schon K. L. Schmidt, Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu. Literarkritische Untersuchungen zur ältesten Jesusüberlieferung, Berlin , oder auch z.B. J. Gnilka, Evangelium , —meinen, dass hier immer noch die Zeitstufe von .—also der erste Tag des Wirkens Jesu, d.h. der Sabbat—im Blick sei. Dies scheint mir vor dem Hintergrund von ., aber auch im Blick auf das Verhältnis von .f. zu .ff. nicht plausibel.
Die markinischen Summarien
Schwiegermutter des Petrus (.–), die im Summarium erzählte Heilung vieler Kranker und Besessener (.–) sowie schließlich der Aufbruch Jesu aus Kapernaum (.–). Wilhelm Egger () hält gerade die literarische Abgrenzbarkeit für ein grundsätzliches Merkmal der markinischen Summarien. Er betont bei seiner Analyse von Mk .– dann aber vor allem, wie hier die Zeit- und Ortsangaben den Summarium-Text in den erzählerischen Zusammenhang der Kapernaum-Überlieferungen einbetten. Darauf ist nun unter . zurückzukommen.
. Zur Herkunft und literarischen Bewertung von Mk .–— historische Reminiszenz oder redaktionelle Bildung?
Im Unterschied zu den vorausgehenden Textabschnitten erzählt Markus in .– mit generalisierenden Angaben über Jesu Wunderwirken: Er nennt keinen Individualfall einer spezifischen Krankenheilung oder eines Exorzismus, sondern berichtet von einer Mehrzahl von Heilungen und Exorzismen und verwendet dazu die adjektivischen Quantoren πάντα, πολλοί und πολλά. Diese Quantoren stellen Jesu Wundertätigkeit universalisierend dar, was besonders in V. (πάντα) und V. (ὅλη) deutlich wird: ‘…sie brachten alle zu ihm… Und es war die ganze Stadt versammelt’. Trotz Generalisierung und Universalisierung hält Markus jedoch insgesamt an einer eher ‘realistischen’ Darstellungsweise fest, die dann erst im matthäischen Paralleltext (Mt .) unscharf wird: Während bei Markus zwar ‘alle’ kommen, doch nur ‘viele’ geheilt werden, werden in Mt . schlichtweg ‘alle’ Kranken geheilt. Die summarisch erzählten Heilungen und Exorzismen finden ‘vor der Tür’ (.: πρὸς τὴν ϑύραν) statt—der Erzähllogik zufolge ist offenbar die Tür des Hauses Petri gemeint. Doch ist hier wohl kaum mit einer historischen Reminiszenz oder mit dem Vorliegen einer Einzeltradition zu rechnen. Wenn wir zudem wie Daniel Marguerat die Ortsangaben innerhalb von Mk .– symbolisch verstehen, dann fällt auch von hierher ein besonderes Licht auf die Kompositionstechnik, mit der Markus die Perikopenfolge in Kapitel anordnet. Warum aber schafft er plötzlich in .– diese Generalisierung, nachdem er zuvor individuelle Heilungen geschildert hatte? Hat Markus—wie Egger andeutet—hier speziell ‘petrinische Erinnerung’ gekannt und verarbeitet? Eine Vgl. W. Egger, Frohbotschaft und Lehre. Die Sammelberichte des Wirkens Jesu im Markusevangelium, Frankfurt (FThSt ), . Vgl. W. Egger, Frohbotschaft, bes. f. D. Marguerat, L’aube du christianisme, Paris (Le Monde de La Bible ), : ‘la synagogue est lieu de l’autorité libératrice de Jésus, la maison symbolise la proximité avec les disciples, l’espace ouvert symbolise l’affluence de la foule’. W. Egger, Frohbotschaft, . Vgl. ähnlich zuletzt auch J. Marcus, Mark –, , der Mk .– für eine ‘pre-Markan tradition’ hält.
EVE-MARIE BECKER
andere Erklärung scheint plausibler zu sein: Offensichtlich lag Markus in .– gerade keine Überlieferung vor, so dass er vom Wunderwirken Jesu ‘nur’ generalisierend sprechen kann. Wie kommt es zu diesem Urteil? Es wertet die Beobachtungen zur Semantik weiter aus: Besonders πᾶς und πολύς in V. und sind nämlich—neben z.B. φέρω in V. —sog. ‘markinische Vorzugswörter’. Sie gehen also auf Markus selbst zurück. So zeigt Mk .– sprachlich-philologisch eine redaktionelle Prägung durch Markus an, während—wie schon Rudolf Bultmann gezeigt hat—die Individualberichte über den Exorzismus in Mk .– und die Krankenheilung in .– zumindest in ihrem Grundbestand auf Traditionen, d.h. vormarkinische Überlieferungen, zurückgehen. Dass das Summarium in .– redaktionell geprägt ist, zeigt sich dann auch thematisch an dem für die markinische Evangelien-Konzeption typischen Schweigegebot an die Dämonen in V. . Hier stimme ich in der Tat Joachim Gnilka zu, der vermutet, dass die ganze Erzähleinheit in .– ‘vom Evangelisten gestaltet ist’ und nicht vormarkinischen Ursprungs ist. Dies Urteil hat allerdings in der Forschung zu einer Unterbewertung der Summarien geführt und daher auch selbst Kritik hervorgerufen. Folgen wir nämlich zunächst Gnilka, Bultmann oder der anfangs zitierten Adela Collins darin, Mk .– für eine solche ‘redaktionelle Bildung’ zu halten, so laufen wir Gefahr, die Summarien lediglich als sekundäre Elemente der Evangelien-Erzählung abzuwerten und darauf zu beschränken, verschiedene Einzelüberlieferungen redaktionell zu verknüpfen. Demnach wären die Summarien für die literaturgeschichtliche Entstehung der Evangelien-Erzählung des Markus völlig unbedeutend, wie ja auch Gnilka selbst Mk .– als ‘blasse und allgemeine Schilderung’ versteht. Dagegen wendet sich zu recht Klaus Berger. Berger hat die literarische Geringschätzung der Summarien kritisiert und aus diesem Grunde zugleich
J. Gnilka, Evangelim , mit Hinweis auf L. Gaston, Horae synopticae electronicae. World Statistics of the Synoptic Gospels, Missoula (Sources for Biblical Study ). Vgl. auch P. Dschulnigg, Sprache, Redaktion und Intention des Markus-Evangeliums. Eigentümlichkeiten der Sprache des Markus-Evangeliums und ihre Bedeutung für die Redaktionskritik, Stuttgart (SBB ), . Vgl. R. Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition. Mit einem Nachwort von G. Theißen, Göttingen , und f. Redaktionell sind in .–: .*, *, *, . ‘Das gereinigte Stück zeigt die typischen Züge einer Wundergeschichte“, f. Mk ,– wird ‘unter dem Einfluß von ,– redigiert sein’, . J. Gnilka, Evangelium , . Vgl. R. Bultmann, GST, . In der Literaturgeschichte Georg Streckers z.B. finden die Summarien überhaupt keine Erwähnung: G. Strecker, Literaturgeschichte des Neuen Testaments, Göttingen (UTB ). J. Gnilka, Evangelium , .
Die markinischen Summarien
literarkritische Analysen dieser Texte abgelehnt. Seiner Meinung nach sind Summarien vielmehr ‘Basis-Berichte’, da sie die ‘entscheidende Fülle des Wirkens’ bieten, denn sie ‘sind die Grundlage der Erzählung, aus der sich die Einzelszenen wie Schaumkronen aus dem Meer erheben’. Auch Egger meint, der Sammelbericht sei ‘mehr… als nur eine Verallgemeinerung von Heilungsund Austreibungsgeschichten’. Egger setzt aber—im Unterschied zu Berger— bei literarkritischen Fragen an und will in Mk .– einen ‘traditionellen Bericht’ erkennen. Vor allem die oben schon erwähnte starke temporale Verknüpfung mit dem Mikrokontext in Kapitel wertet Egger als Hinweis darauf, dass Mk .– nur zusammen mit .– überliefert worden sein könne. Berger meint, diesen Umstand der literar- und redaktionskritischen Arbeit anlasten zu können. So hält er den Ausdruck ‘Summar’ sogar für ‘irreführend’, weil er ‘primär literarkritisch orientiert sei’, K. Berger, Formgeschichte des Neuen Testaments, Heidelberg , f. K. Berger, Formgeschichte, . W. Egger, Frohbotschaft, . W. Egger, Frohbotschaft, . Vgl. W. Egger, Frohbotschaft, f. In Mk .– findet sich—nach Egger—nicht die für die markinischen Sammelberichte sonst typische ‘Mosaik-Technik‘: Dabei werden in den Sammelberichten ‘die Elemente wie Mosaiksteine aneinander gekoppelt’, und man kann ‘dementsprechend ohne große Störung Elemente herausnehmen’, . Auch Emil Wendling () hielt Mk .– in seinem Grundbestand für ‘echt’, da er im Text—bis auf .— keine redaktionellen Elemente erkennen kann, vgl. E. Wendling, Die Entstehung des Marcus-Evangeliums. Philologische Untersuchungen, Tübingen , und .—Mit seiner Beobachtung führt Egger faktisch das formgeschichtliche Konzept Karl Ludwig Schmidts () fort, der die in den synoptischen Evangelien erzählte ‘Geschichte Jesu’ insbesondere auf der Basis chronologischer und topographischer Angaben zu rekonstruieren suchte, vgl. hierzu K. L. Schmidt, Rahmen, bes. f. Ähnlich geht auch C. H. Dodd vor: In kritischer Rezeption von Schmidts Annahme, dem Evangelisten habe bereits teilweise ein chronologischer und topographischer Rahmen vorgelegen, in welchen die Sammelberichte eingefügt worden seien, meint Dodd allerdings, Markus habe der Tradition unterschiedliches Überlieferungsmaterial entnommen, u.a. Summarien bzw. Sammelberichte (Mk .f.; .f.; .; .; .b-; .–; ., , ; .), die auf das mündliche kerygma zurückgingen: Vgl. C. H. Dodd, The Framework of the Gospel Narrative: Ders., New Testament Studies, Manchester , –, bes. ff.: ‘The outline which we have recognized as existing in fragmentary form in the framework of Mark may well have belonged to a form of the primitive kerygma’, a.a.O., . Für Schmidt sind die Sammelberichte jedoch ‘jeglichen chronologischen Berechnungen entrückt’ (a.a.O., ).—Zur grundsätzlichen Kritik an Schmidts Zweifel an der Historizität der markinischen Evangelien-Erzählung vgl. D. R. Hall, The Gospel Framework. Fiction or Fact? A Critical Evaluation of Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu by Karl Ludwig Schmidt, Carlisle . Zur kritischen Auseinandersetzung mit Schmidt und Hall einerseits sowie Dodd andererseits vgl. zuletzt auch S. Hultgren, Narrative Elements in the Double Tradition. A Study of Their Place within the Framework of the Gospel Narrative, Berlin/New York (BZNW ), bes. – und –: Hultgren geht von der Annahme aus, Markus habe bereits ein, wenn auch nicht notwendig historisches, so doch ‘traditional narrative framework for the life of Jesus’ vorgelegen, in welchem
EVE-MARIE BECKER
Nun meine ich weiterhin—gegen Egger—und mit der Mehrheit der Exegeten, dass Mk .– auf die markinische Redaktion zurückzuführen sei. Ich möchte dies Urteil aber nicht so bewerten, dass die Summarien auf redaktionelle Überleitungen oder ‘editorial summaries’ reduziert würden. Berger hat ja zu recht das Augenmerk auf die eigenständige literarische Form des Summariums gelenkt. Und Egger betont ebenfalls zu recht dessen spezifische narrative Funktion innerhalb von Mk . Ich stimme beiden Exegeten darin zu, dass die Summarien viel stärker als eigenständige literarisch und theologisch bedeutsame Textgruppe wahrgenommen werden müssen. Die formgeschichtliche und literarkritische Analyse allein ermöglichen diese Sicht auf die Summarien aber nicht. Vielmehr muss neben die Betrachtung der Summarien auch die angemessene Beachtung der literarischen Strategie ihres Verfassers treten. Denn der Evangelist Markus ist keineswegs nur ‘Sammler und Redaktor’, wie die Formgeschichte und letztlich auch die Redaktionsgeschichte annahmen. Und obwohl Werner Georg Kümmel meinte, die ‘redaktionsgeschichtliche Forschung’ habe erkannt, dass Markus ‘ein die Tradition bewusst gestaltender Schriftsteller’ sei, bleiben beim redaktionsgeschichtlichen approach—so etwa in Dieter Lührmanns Markus-Kommentar—die Summarien faktisch deutlich unterbelichtet. . Zur literarischen Strategie des Verfassers in Mk .–
Und damit bin ich bei meiner These: Gerade bei der Konzeption von Summarien weist sich Markus als selbständiger Schriftsteller aus, denn er schreibt seine Geschichte nicht nur auf, sondern er ‘schreibt sie fort’.
diejenigen sog. Sammelberichte eine formative Rolle gespielt haben, die über Markus hinaus auch bei Matthäus und/oder Lukas begegnen, a.a.O., . Bei allen genannten Ansätzen jedoch bleibt die konzise Definition eines Summariums als spezifischer literarischer Form offen, s. dazu unter . So z.B. das Diktum bei: M. Dibelius, Formgeschichte, .—Ich halte—gegen z.B. W. S. Vorster, Markus—Sammler, Redaktor, Autor oder Erzähler?: F. Hahn (Hg.), Der Erzähler des Evangeliums. Methodische Neuansätze in der Markusforschung, Stuttgart (SBB / ), –, : ‘Der Begriff Redaktor hat meines Erachtens geringe Bedeutung für die Lösung des Problems der literarischen Persönlichkeit, die für die endgültige Textgestaltung des Markusevangeliums verantwortlich war’—den Begriff ‘Redaktor’ weiterhin für sinnvoll, wenn er nicht dazu führt, die schriftstellerische Leistung des Markus zu verkennen. W. G. Kümmel, Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Heidelberg , . Vgl. D. Lührmann, Markusevangelium, f. Das trifft auch für den Klassiker des redaktionsgeschichtlichen Ansatzes, Willi Marxsen (/), zu, vgl. W. Marxsen, Der Evangelist Markus. Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Evangeliums, Göttingen : Marxsen widmet sich den Summarien nur am Rande (Mk .– wird nicht erwähnt und zu Mk .f.: a.a.O., ) und bezeichnet Markus bestenfalls als ‘Schöpfer der Literaturwerke’ der Evangelien (). Vgl. dazu R. Koselleck, Erfahrungswandel und Methodenwechsel. Eine historisch-anthropologische Skizze: Ders., Zeitschichten. Studien zur Historik. Mit einem Beitrag von H.-G.
Die markinischen Summarien
Was ist an dieser These neu, und was leistet sie für die Interpretation des Markus-Evangeliums? Die jüngste Erzähl-Forschung hat das Augenmerk auf Markus als Erzähler gelenkt und damit gewissermaßen die entstandene Diskrepanz zwischen dem Redaktor sowie dem Erzähler, Schriftsteller oder Autor ‘Markus’ zu überwinden gesucht (z.B. Willem S. Vorster). Allerdings führt diese Erkenntnis—soweit ich sehe—bislang nicht dazu, die Summarien als wichtige literarische und theologische Elemente der Evangelien-Erzählung zu betrachten. Ein ähnliches Desiderat ist—in Fortsetzung der Erzähl-Forschung—im sog. reader-response-criticism (z.B. Bas M. F. van Iersel; Robert M. Fowler) zu beobachten: Hier wird die narrative Interaktion von Autor und Leser untersucht, nicht aber nach der spezifischen literarischen Funktion der Summarien gefragt. Und in den Feldern von oral/aural criticism oder zuletzt auch performance criticism wird zwar die narrative Funktion von Summarien bei der Rezeption der Evangelien-Erzählung durch die Zuhörerschaft (audience) mitbedacht. Allerdings ziehen die beteiligten Exegeten aus diesen Beobachtungen keine oder nur wenig Rückschlüsse auf das Autor-Profil des Evangelisten Markus. Schließlich lassen auch solche Textanalysen, die das sozial-historische Profil der markinischen Hörer- und Leserschaft zu rekonstruieren suchen (Hendrika Nicoline Roskam), teils speziell aus einer post colonial perspective (Richard
Gadamer, Frankfurt (stw ), –, bes. : ‘Das Aufschreiben ist ein erstmaliger Akt, das Fortschreiben akkumuliert Zeitfristen, das Umschreiben korrigiert beides, das Auf- und Fortgeschriebene, um rückwirkend eine neue Geschichte daraus hervorgehen zu lassen’. Vgl. W. S. Vorster, Markus, bes. , wo Vorster auf die Identität von ‘Autor’ und ‘Erzähler’ hinweist: ‘Der Autor hat nicht irgendeine fiktive Erzählerfigur erfunden, sondern er erzählt die Geschichte Jesu aus der Perspektive der dritten Person und macht sich selbst zum Erzähler’. Vgl. B. M. F. van Iersel, Mark. A Reader-Response-Commentary, Sheffield (JSNT.SS ), z.B. f.; R. M. Fowler, Let the Reader Understand. Reader-Response-Criticism and the Gospel of Mark, Minneapolis . Vgl. dazu z.B.: C. W. Hedrick, The Role of ‘Summary Statements’ in the Composition of the Gospel of Mark. A Dialogue with Karl Schmidt and Norman Perrin: NT () –; J. Dewey, Oral Methods of Structuring Narrative in Mark: Int. () –, bes. : ‘When one hears the Gospel, the passages (Summarien, E-MB) do not seem set off in kind; they too are “visible”’.—Vgl. zum performance criticism zuletzt auch: R. Horsley et al. (Eds.), Performing the Gospel. Orality, Memory, and Mark, Minneapolis ; K. M. Hartvigsen, ‘Prepare the Way of the Lord’. Towards a Cognitive Poetic Analysis of Audience Involvement and Events in the Markan World, PhD-Diss. Universität Oslo . Hier sind weitere gattungsgeschichtliche Fragen anzuschließen, die allerdings vielfach wiederum die Summarien ausblenden: So etwa C. Bryan, A Preface to Mark. Notes on the Gospel and Its Literary and Cultural Settings, New York/Oxford . Vgl. zu wichtigen Aspekten der jüngeren und jüngsten Forschungsgeschichte hier auch D. Dormeyer, Das Markusevangelium, Darmstadt , –. Vgl. nur die beiläufigen Erwähnungen von Mk .– in: H. N. Roskam, The Purpose of the Gospel of Mark and its Historical and Social Context, Leiden/Boston (NT.S ), z.B.
EVE-MARIE BECKER
Horsley), den Aussagehalt und das literarische Profil der Summarien als Verdichtung der Evangelien-Erzählung unberücksichtigt. Doch erweisen sich die Summarien gerade, weil sie eine bestimmte stützende und strukturierende Funktion im Erzählduktus haben, nicht nur für die Analyse der AutorHörer- oder Autor-Leser-Relation als relevant. Eine literaturgeschichtlich geschärfte Sicht auf die Textgruppe der Summarien hilft der Markus-Exegese, den Evangelisten Markus bei seiner Arbeit am literarischen Profil und der theologischen Deutung seiner Evangelien-Erzählung konturiert als Autor und Schriftsteller hervortreten zu lassen. Mit der Frage nach der theologischen Tendenz und der literarischen Struktur der Evangelienschrift kommen wir letztlich auch der seit William Wrede offenen Frage nach dem ‘Messiasgeheimnis’ im Markus-Evangelium auf die Spur. Zunächst dient ein Summarium der Historisierung und—wie Martin Dibelius meinte—der ‘Verbreiterung’ der Erzählung, durch die die ‘Taten Jesu… ins Typische’ erhoben werden. So hat Mk .– nicht nur eine anaphorische Erzählfunktion, indem die zuvor geschilderten Individualfälle nun rekapituliert werden. Vielmehr erweckt Markus ‘den Eindruck eines umfassenden Geschehens, indem er zwischen die Einzelberichte… Sammelberichte einfügt’. Markus gestaltet also maßgeblich durch .– den Erzählzusammenhang in Kapitel aus. Er nutzt aber die Summarien-Form nicht nur historisierend-narrativ, sondern auch zu einer theologischen Reflexion. Das wird an einem Vergleich der sog. ‘Schweigegebote’ in Mk ., . und . deutlich: .–: … οἶδά σε τίς εἶ, ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ ϑεοῦ. καὶ ἐπετίμησεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς λέγων· φιμώϑητι καὶ ἔξελϑε ἐξ αὐτοῦ.
Anm. .—Vgl. zuletzt auch: A. Winn, The Purpose of Mark’s Gospel. An early Christian Response to Roman Imperial Propaganda, Tübingen (WUNT .). Vgl. R. Horsley, Hearing the Whole Story. The Politics of Plot in Mark’s Gospel, London/Leiden , z.B. . Hier beschreibt Horsley, wie die Summarien den Kampf Jesu gegen die Dämonen—den er als ‘struggle against Roman rule’ wertet—narrativ verstärken. Vgl. W. Wrede, Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien. Zugleich ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markusevangeliums, Göttingen , bes. –. Zur Systematisierung der verschiedene Aspekte des Messiasgeheimnisses vgl. a.a.O., –: () Verbote an Dämonen (Mk .,; .); () Verbote nach anderen Wundern (Mk .–; .; .; .); () Verbote nach dem Petrus-Bekenntnis (Mk .; .); () ‘Absicht, das Inkognito zu wahren’ (Mk .; .f.); () ‘Ein nicht von Jesus selbst ausgehendes Verbot zu reden’ (Mk .f.). —Vgl. zur forschungsgeschichtlichen Bedeutung von Wredes Konzept besonders: H. J. Ebeling, Das Messiasgeheimnis und die Botschaft des Marcus-Evangelisten, Berlin (BZNW ), –. Vgl. zuletzt auch den Exkurs in A. Yarbro Collins, Mark, –. Vgl. M. Dibelius, Formgeschichte, f. M. Dibelius, Stilkritisches zur Apostelgeschichte: Ders., Aufsätze zur Apostelgeschichte, hg. v. H. Greeven, Berlin , –, f.; vgl. auch H. J. Cadbury, The Making of Luke-Acts, London , : ‘The summaries…give continuity and historical perspective’. W. G. Kümmel, Einleitung, .
Die markinischen Summarien .: καὶ δαιμόνια πολλὰ ἐξέβαλεν καὶ οὐκ ἤφιεν λαλεῖν τὰ δαιμόνια, ὅτι ᾔδεισαν αὐτόν. .–: … καὶ ἔκραζον λέγοντες ὅτι· σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ϑεοῦ. καὶ πολλὰ ἐπετίμα αὐτοῖς ἵνα μὴ αὐτὸν φανερὸν ποιήσωσιν.
Im Bericht über den Exorzismus in der Synagoge in Kapernaum in Mk .– bedroht Jesus den unreinen Geist, zu verstummen und aus dem Menschen auszufahren (V. ). Unklar ist hier, wie die Wendung φιμώϑητι καὶ ἔξελϑε ἐξ αὐτοῦ zu deuten sei: Gerd Theißen versteht den Ausruf Jesu als Teil der exorzistischen Handlung und wertet das ‘Fehlen exorzistischer Rituale’, wie sie etwa bei Josephus über den jüdischen Exorzisten Eleazar berichtet werden (ant .–), als ein Charakteristikum ‘für die Exorzismen Jesu’. Bernd Kollmann hingegen sieht keine direkten semantischen Parallelen zu der Wendung φιμώϑητι in der ‘traditionellen antiken Exorzismustopik’, die der in Mk . geschilderten Situation analog wären. Er meint daher, Mk . reagiere auf die ἅγιος τοῦ ϑεοῦ-Proklamation in V. und stelle insofern bereits eines der für Markus typischen Schweigegebote dar. Joel Marcus deutet sowohl die Proklamation in . als auch den Ausruf Jesu in . vor dem Hintergrund eschatologischer und apokalyptischer Kampfterminologie. Wichtig scheint mir indes, die Entwicklung des Motivs von Mk .f. über . zu .f. zu verfolgen. In . hat Markus das Schweigemotiv wohl aus dem
G. Theißen/A. Merz, Der historische Jesus. Ein Lehrbuch, Göttingen , ; vgl. auch G. Theißen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten. Ein Beitrag zur formgeschichtlichen Erforschung der synoptischen Evangelien, Gütersloh (StNT ), –. Theißen bezeichnet Mk . (nicht: .!) und . als ‘Verstummungsbefehle’, a.a.O., .—Vgl. ähnlich auch schon R. Bultmann, GST, Anm. .—Vgl. im Blick auf die Religionsgeschichte auch K. Thraede, Art. Exorzismus: RAC () –, bes. f., der mit Verweis auf antike Fluchtafeln (PGM VII,.ff.; IX,f.) Mk . für ein typisches Exorzismusritual hält: ‘Unentbehrlich war der Ausfahrbefehl, die ἀποπομπή…; er lautete ἔχελϑε bzw. recede…’, a.a.O., . B. Kollmann, Jesu Schweigegebote an die Dämonen: ZNW () –, .—Zum traditionsgeschichtlichen Hintergrund der Exorzismen Jesu vgl. zuletzt auch L. Stuckenbruck, Jesus’ Apocalyptic Worldview and His Exorcistic Ministry: G. S. Oegema/J. H. Charlesworth (Eds.), The Pseudepigrapha and Christian Origins. Essays from the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas, New York/London (Jewish and Christian Texts in Contexts and Related Studies ), –. Vgl. B. Kollmann, Jesu Schweigegebote, bes. : ‘Ein Mk . vergleichbarer Schweige- oder Verstummungsbefehl an Dämonen, der dem dortigen φιμώϑητι auch nur annähernd entspräche, ist aus den hierfür beanspruchten Belegen nicht analogisierbar, stellt also auch keine traditionelle exorzistische Technik dar’. Ob Mk . daher auch auf Redaktion zurückzuführen sei, diskutiert Kollmann hingegen nicht deutlich.—Vgl. in der Tendenz ähnlich W. Wrede, Messiasgeheimnis, Anm. , der Mk . als Schweigegebot deutet. Vgl. J. Marcus, Mark –, f. mit Verweis auf H. C. Kee, The Terminology of Mark’s Exorcism Stories: NTS (/) –.
EVE-MARIE BECKER
vormarkinischen Exorzismus-Bericht übernommen. Im Vergleich dazu erscheint das letzte Schweigegebot, das an die Dämonen in . ergeht, als deutliche motivische Weiterentwicklung: Denn am Schluss des Heilungs-Summariums in .– bekennen die ‘unreinen Geister’ nun noch präziser als in . Jesus als den ‘Sohn Gottes’ (.), woraufhin Jesus ihnen noch deutlicher als zuvor das Gebot, ihn nicht offenbar zu machen, erteilt. In Mk . löst Markus also das Schweigemotiv aus dem konkreten Zusammenhang eines Exorzismus (.) und transformiert es zu einem Schweigegebot. In . geht Markus darüber noch hinaus, indem er nun das Schweigegebot konkret mit der Gottes-Sohn-Erkenntnis der Dämonen in Zusammenhang bringt. So liegt in Mk . eine theologische Schaltstelle vor, an der Markus seine Messiasgeheimnistheorie theologisch selbständig zu entwickeln beginnt. Es wäre zu fragen, ob Markus, indem er die Schweigeformel hier zu einer theologischen Deutungskategorie macht, letztlich literarisch—um mit Walter Benjamin zu sprechen—die mit den Exorzismen verbundene ‘Magie liquidiert’. S.o. zur Literarkritik.—Vgl. auch bereits E. Wendling, Entstehung, f.: ‘Erst der Evangelist hat aus seiner Vorlage in . herausgelesen, daß Jesus nicht als Messias verkündigt werden sollte’. Vgl. in der Tendenz ähnliche Überlegungen bei z.B. G. Strecker, Zur Messiasgeheimnistheorie im Markusevangelium: Ders., Eschaton und Historie. Aufsätze, Göttingen , –, f.; H. Räisänen, Das ‘Messiasgeheimnis’ im Markusevangelium. Ein redaktionskritischer Versuch, Helsinki (Schriften der Finnischen Exegetischen Gesellschaft ), f.: ‘Die Tradition hat… erzählt, wie die Dämonen Jesus mit christologischen Schreien anredeten und Jesus sie entweder zum Schweigen brachten (.) oder ein Gespräch anfing (.). Markus hat in den redaktionellen Bemerkungen diesen Befund so interpretiert, dass Jesus die Dämonen hindern wollte, ihr christologisches Wissen zu verbreiten’.—Zuletzt auch A. Yarbro Collins, Mark, : ‘The whole scene in :– is analogous to that in :–, but intensified’.—J. Marcus, The Beelzebul Controversy and the Eschatologies of Jesus: Authenticating the Activities of Jesus, ed. B. Chilton/C. A. Evans, Leiden etc. (New Testament Tools and Studies ,), –, sieht auf der Basis von Mk .–/Q .– eine Entwicklung in Jesu Beurteilung des Satans und in der Entwicklung seiner Eschatologie von einer futurischen, ‘pre-baptismal’ zu einer ‘realized eschatology’ in a ‘post-baptismal phase’ (a.a.O., ), die auch mit Jesu Erfahrungen mit Exorzismen in Zusammenhang steht. Das Verbum ἐπιτιμάω ist im Sinne von ‘Drohen’ und ‘Schelten’ dabei typisch für die markinische Darstellung der Vollmacht Jesu: Vgl. Mk .; .; .; ., , ; .; ., : Dazu auch E. Stauffer, Art. ἐπιτιμάω, ἐπιτιμία: ThWNT () –. Vgl. Walter Benjamins Schrift von : Über das mimetische Vermögen: Ders., Erzählen. Schriften zur Theorie der Narration und zur literarischen Prosa. Ausgewählt und mit einem Nachwort von A. Honold, Frankfurt (stw ), –, bes. (GS II., –): Im Anschluß an Benjamins Überlegungen zum mimetischen Vermögen der Sprache und der Literatur könnte man an den drei Schweigegeboten erkennen, wie Markus mit der Transformation des Schweigemotivs zum Schweigegebot in Mk – nicht nur das Messiasgeheimnis entwickelt, sondern auch mögliche magische Rituale sprachlich-literarisch ‘liquidiert’: ‘Dergestalt wäre die Sprache die höchste Stufe des mimetischen Verhaltens…: ein Medium, in welches ohne Rest die früheren Kräfte mimetischer Hervorbringung und
Die markinischen Summarien . Die Summarien in Mk – als eigenständige Textgruppe
Ich gehe nun von dem ersten und prototypischen Summarium weiter zur Textgruppe der markinischen Summarien insgesamt. Mk .– ist das erste von Markus erzählte Summarium und auch insofern prototypisch. Entgegen der Meinung einiger Exegeten lässt sich Mk .–, der Bericht über den Beginn der Verkündigung Jesu in Galiläa, nicht als ein Summarium verstehen. Zwar wird auch in Mk .– ein summarischer Erzählstil erkennbar, doch hat der Abschnitt keine anaphorische Erzählfunktion. Vielmehr werden hier unverzichtbare, weil für das Markus-Evangelium singuläre Informationen geliefert: Markus begründet den Beginn der Evangeliumsverkündigung Jesu (Mk .) und teilt zugleich den Inhalt der Predigt Jesu (Mk .) mit, den wir sonst nur aus Q ., erschließen können. Ich bestimme Mk .– daher nicht als ein Summarium, sondern besser als eine Verkündigungs-Epitome, mit der Markus gleichsam
Auffassung hineingewandert sind, bis sie so weit gelangten, die der Magie zu liquidieren’, . Vgl. dazu auch: E. Auerbach, Mimesis. Dargestellte Wirklichkeit in der abendländischen Tradition, Bern sowie M. Opitz, Art. Ähnlichkeit: Benjamins Begriffe. Hg. v. M. Opitz/ E. Wizisla. Erster Band, Frankfurt , –.—Vgl. zur Bedeutung der Magie in den synoptischen Evangelien grundlegend auch: J. M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic and the Synoptic Tradition, London (Studies in Biblical Theology Second Series ), bes. – und –: Hull wertet besonders das Wissen der Dämonen über Jesu Identität in Mk . als eine ‘theological ambiguity… created by the point of view of the evangelist’, a.a.O., . Mk .f. lässt sich kaum als Summarium betrachten, da hier eine spezifische Tradition im Hintergrund steht (s.u.); Mk .f. ist deswegen nicht als Summarium zu werten, weil diese zwei Verse als notwendige narrative Einleitung in den folgenden Exorzismus (.–) fungieren. So schon K. L. Schmidt, Rahmen, : ‘Sie stellen einen Sammelbericht dar, den wir am besten auf das Konto des Evangelisten setzen’. Vgl. z.B. U. Wendel, Gemeinde, ; J. Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus, . Vgl. in der Tendenz auch D. Lührmann, Markusevangelium, .—Hier kommt es auch zu einer Vermischung von Formbestimmung sowie Literar- bzw. Redaktionskritik: Auch wenn Mk .–—wie etwa Bultmann meinte—eine ‘ganz sekundäre Bildung’ ist (R. Bultmann, GST, ), muß dieser Text nicht zwangsläufig als ‘Summarium’ bestimmt werden. Q .: ἤγγικεν ἐφ᾽ ὑμᾶς ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ ϑεοῦ. Zur Epitome vgl. allgemein: I. Opelt, Art. Epitome: RAC () –.—Vgl. auch U. Wendel, Gemeinde, , der kataphorische ‘Überblicke’ (z.B. ‘Geschichtsabrisse oder Zusammenstellungen von Reisestationen’) mit Hinweis auf Makk .– oder Josephus, BJ . als Epitome bezeichnet und damit von rückblickenden Geschichtssummarien, besser: Geschichtsabrissen wie z.B. ant .– (s.u.) unterscheidet: Denn Geschichtsabrisse werden zumeist—in Ermangelung einer terminologischen Präzisierung— als ‘Geschichtssummarien’ bezeichnet, vgl. etwa zuletzt bei M. Vogel, Traumdarstellungen bei Josephus und Lukas: J. Frey et al. (Hgg.), Die Apostelgeschichte im Kontext antiker und frühchristlicher Historiographie, Berlin/New York (BZNW ), –, und s. dazu ausführlich unten Anm. –.—Als Periochai gelten die inhaltlichen
EVE-MARIE BECKER
exzerptförmig das Thema von Jesu Auftreten und Wirken benennt. So findet sich im Markus-Evangelium einerseits die Textgruppe der Epitome (.f.; .ff. s.u.) und andererseits die davon zu unterscheidende Textgruppe der Summarien. Wie aber läßt sich die Textgruppe der markinischen Summarien insgesamt definieren und als spezifische Form erfassen? Ich gehe bei der nun folgenden Definition von der Kriteriologie aus, die Dietmar Mathias () entwickelt hat. Nach Mathias sind Summarien ‘das Resümee oder Fazit aus einer Summe von Einzelereignissen’, die durch ‘Verallgemeinerung und Typisierung der Einzelberichte’ zustande kommt. Sie ‘erfüllen eine redaktionelle Funktion durch die Gliederung größerer Zusammenhänge’ und sind ‘am ehesten durch die Gattungsbezeichnung “konstruierter Bericht” erfaßt…’. Demnach lassen sich insgesamt drei wichtige Kriterien festhalten, anhand derer die markinischen Summarien identifiziert werden können: Markinische Summarien sind abgrenzbare literarische Text-Einheiten, die über eine bloße redaktionelle Bearbeitung oder Erweiterung von Überlieferungen hinausgehen und deren Inhalt eine summarische Zusammenfassung des Wirkens Jesu ist. Es handelt sich um
Zusammenfassungen, die zu Livius, Ab urbe condita vorliegen: Livy, Summaries, Fragments, and Obsequences, transl. by A. C. Schlesinger, London/Cambridge (LCL ), –. Zu den Hypotheseis bzw. Argumenta bei Josephus vgl. zuletzt J. Sievers, Forgotten Aspects of the Reception of Josephus’ Bellum Judaicum. Its List of Contents: E.-M. Becker/S. Scholz (Hgg.), Kanon in Konstruktion und Dekonstruktion. Ein Handbuch, Berlin/New York (im Druck). Auch Camille Focant spricht hier sinnvoller von einer ‘déclaration inaugurale’, C. Focant, L’évangile, z.B. . D. Dormeyer, Das Neue Testament im Rahmen der antiken Literaturgeschichte. Eine Einführung, Darmstadt , spricht hier von einer ‘Kleingattung’ der Summarien oder Sammelberichte. ‘() Als Summarium wird… das Resümee oder Fazit aus einer Summe von Einzelereignissen bezeichnet. () Es kommt durch Verallgemeinerung und Typisierung der Einzelberichte zustande. () Diese Summarien erfüllen eine redaktionelle Funktion durch die Gliederung größerer Zusammenhänge… () Als literarische Produkte der Redaktion wird die ntl. Hauptgruppe der Texte am ehesten durch die Gattungsbezeichnung “konstruierter Bericht’ erfaßt…”, D. Mathias, Die Geschichtstheologie der Geschichtssummarien in den Psalmen, Diss. Leipzig , . Der Ausdruck ‘konstruierter Bericht’ scheint mir hilfreich und kommt der Bezeichnung ‘summary report’ bei D. E. Aune, New Testament, z.B. nahe (s.o.).— Vgl. auch die hilfreiche Definition bei U. Wendel, Gemeinde, : ‘Summarien sind Texte, die keine Einzelereignisse, sondern über einen längeren Zeitraum andauernde (durative) Zustände oder innerhalb eines längeren Zeitraums stets wiederkehrende (iterative) Ereignisse beschreiben. Diese Zustände oder Ereignisse sind mit dem aktuellen Erzählverlauf gleichzeitig’ (im Original kursiv). So stellt z.B. Mk . kein Summarium dar. So stellen z.B. Mk . oder .– kein Summarium dar. So stellen z.B. Mk .f. oder . kein Summarium dar.
Die markinischen Summarien
personenzentrierte Kurztexte mit einer erhöhten Relevanz für die literarische und theologische Modellierung der Person Jesu. Doch wo im Markus-Evangelium finden sich Summarien, die dieser Definition entsprechen? Die folgende Übersicht über die Forschungsgeschichte der letzten ca. Jahre zeigt, dass sich die Markus-Exegeten nicht einig sind über die genaue Anzahl und das Vorkommen von ‘Summarien’. Wilhelm Egger ()
Klaus Berger ()
Ulrich Wendel ()
Camille Focant ()
Adela Y. Collins ()
.; .f.; .–; .; .;
.f.; .– ; .; .;
.; .– ; .; .b;
(.–)
.–;
.f.; .;
.; .;
.;
.–;
.–; .–;
.–;
.f.;
.f.;
.f.;
.b; .– ; .–;
.f.; .– ,–; .–
.b; .– ; .– ;
.
.–;
.–
.–
.
Die erkennbare Uneinigkeit rührt überwiegend daher, dass unklar bleibt, wie die markinischen Summarien in Abgrenzung von verwandten Textformen zu klassifizieren und zu typologisieren seien: Mir scheint notwendig, dass Summarien oder Sammelberichte erstens von kurzen summarischen Notizen (z.B. Mk .; .; .b), zweitens von Epitomai (z.B. Mk .f.), drittens von Periochai und
Vgl. W. Egger, Frohbotschaft, VII-VIII. Vgl. K. Berger, Formgeschichte, . Vgl. U. Wendel, Gemeinde, . Vgl. C. Focant, L’évangile, ; –. Vgl. A. Yarbro Collins, Mark, vii–xiii; f. So typologisiert W. Egger, Frohbotschaft, VIIf. die Sammelberichte teils inhaltsbezogen (‘Das Kommen und Verkündigen Jesu’ z.B. Mk .–; .; ‘Offenbarung und Geheimhaltung’ z.B. Mk .–; .f.), teils funktional im Blick auf die Person Jesu (‘Jesus als Lehrer und Arzt’ Mk .–; .–) oder im Blick auf die Form (‘Lehrsummarien’ z.B. Mk .; .f.).—Meines Erachtens könnte ggf. zwischen: Mk .– und .– als ‘Heilungs-Summarien’, Mk .– als ‘Lehr-Summarium’, Mk .– und .– als ‘kombinierten Summarien’ sowie Mk .– als ‘Jünger-Summarium’ unterschieden werden. So lassen sich ‘Summarien’ von ‘sogenannten pragmatischen Verknüpfungen’ (H.-M. Schenke/K. M. Fischer, Einleitung in die Schriften des Neuen Testaments. II Die Evangelien und die anderen neutestamentlichen Schriften, Gütersloh , f.) bzw. ‘referierenden
EVE-MARIE BECKER
viertens von Geschichtsabrissen unterschieden werden. Das Markus-Evangelium enthält weder Periochai noch sog. Geschichtssummarien, die für Teile der Apostelgeschichte (z.B. Apg .bff.; .–) und z.B. für die
Zwischenbemerkungen’ (M. Dibelius, Formgeschichte ) oder ‘summarischen Zwischenbemerkungen’ (z.B.: Mk .–; .f.: H.-M. Schenke/K. M. Fischer, a.a.O., ) unterscheiden. H. Conzelmann, Die Apostelgeschichte, Tübingen (HNT ), differenziert in der Apostelgeschichte die ‘summarischen Notizen’ (Apg .; .; .f.), die ‘leicht als redaktionelle Gebilde zu erkennen sind’, von den ‘drei grossen Summarien’ (Apg .– ; .–; .–).—Vgl. dazu auch D. Mathias, Geschichtstheologie, . S.o. Anm. . Zur klassischen Definition der Geschichtssummarien vgl. G. von Rad, Weisheit in Israel, Gütersloh , : ‘Die Gattung der Geschichtssummarien, d.h. kürzerer oder ausgeführter Rekapitulationen der Geschichte Jahwes mit Israel, hatte ja in Israel eine lange Geschichte’—Vgl. zur Definition auch J. Jeska, Die Geschichte Israels in der Sicht des Lukas. Apg .b- und .– im Kontext antik-jüdischer Summarien der Geschichte Israels, Göttingen (FRLANT ), f. Kritisch im Blick auf die Gattungsbestimmung ist D. Mathias, Geschichtstheologie, f., der folgende Konstitutiva für eine Definition der Geschichtssummarien nennt: ‘() Der Begriff GS beinhaltet Reihenbildung (Aufzählung) und bezieht sich damit auf den Vorgang der Summation einzelner Geschichtsereignisse. () Der Begriff meint andererseits eine Kurzfassung von Geschichte (Rekapitulation, Kompendium) und bezieht sich damit auf das Ergebnis der Summation (Summa). () Die Länge der Summe ist unbestimmt. Sie ist abhängig von der Anzahl der erfaßten Ereignisse (Summanden) sowie von der Ausführlichkeit, mit der die einzelnen Ereignisse berichtet werden. Der Aufzählungscharakter darf aber nicht verloren gehen. () Da die Summe über Geschichtsereignisse gebildet wird, ist die Zeitstufe das Präteritum. () Handlungsträger können Gott oder Gottesmänner sein, sofern der Begriff Geschichte auf biblische Geschichte bezogen ist. () Ob im GS von Gott in der ., . oder . Person gesprochen wird, hängt offenbar vom jeweiligen Verwendungszusammenhang des GS ab. () Die voranstehenden Angaben reichen nicht aus, um das GS als literarische Gattung zu konstituieren’.— Die Form- und Gattungsdiskussionen über Geschichtssummarien, die in der alttestamentlichen Exegese geführt werden, können daher nicht auf die Synoptiker-Exegese übertragen werden—darauf weist auch Joachim Jeska (a.a.O., bes. –) hin. Vgl. auch D. Mathias, Geschichtstheologie, .—Martin Dibelius (Stilkritisches, f.) schlägt folgende Differenzierung von Geschichtssummarien und synoptischen Summarien vor: ‘Der so festgelegten Bedeutung des Begriffs GS steht eine andere Verwendung des Begriffs Summarium zur Seite, die ihn ebenfalls auf Geschichte bezieht, aber allein am Ergebnis der Summation (Summa) orientiert ist. Man versteht darunter “redaktionelle Sammelberichte”’ H.-M. Schenke/K. M. Fischer (Einleitung, ) definieren wie folgt: ‘Das sind redaktionelle Zustandsschilderungen, weithin nur auf Verallgemeinerungen von überlieferten singulären Begebenheiten beruhend, mit denen der Verfasser… die erzählten Einzelereignisse, die er der Tradition entnimmt und an denen er als anschaulicher Erzähler am meisten interessiert ist, verknüpft und die zeitlichen Zwischenräume zwischen ihnen überbrückt’.—Zu den methodologischen Problemen bei der Klassifizierung der synoptischen Sammelberichte als ‘redaktionelle Sammelberichte’ s.o. Die Geschichtssummarien in der Apg lassen sich höchstens insofern als ‘Summarien’ bezeichnen, als hier ein dicht komprimierter Abriß der Geschichte Israels geboten wird. Dieser Typus
Die markinischen Summarien
Geschichtspsalmen charakteristisch sind—eine Textform, die treffender als ‘Geschichtsabrisse’ zu bezeichnen wäre. Wenn wir also von der oben formulierten konzisen literarischen Definition eines ‘Summariums’ ausgehen, so lassen sich neben Mk .– nur .– und .– als Summarien, d.h. als generalisierende Zusammenfassungen des Wirkens Jesu oder besser als ‘konstruierte Berichte’, verstehen. Es handelt sich bei diesen drei Texten ausschließlich um Summarien über Jesu Wunderwirken als Heiler und Exorzist. Es finden sich hingegen keine Summarien über Naturwunder, so etwa über Jesu Herrschaft über Wind und Meer (Mk .–; .–) oder über Speisungswunder (Mk .–; .–). Den drei Summarien-Texten in Mk , und ist gemeinsam, dass sie eigenständige literarische Einheiten (Mk .–) darstellen oder sich innerhalb dieser (Mk .–; .–) befinden. Zudem haben sie jeweils eine anaphorische Funktion: Mk .– rekapituliert wiederum die vorausgehenden Heilungen in Mk .– und .–. Und Mk . greift sogar vier konkrete Begriffe aus der Geschichte über die Heilung der blutflüssigen Frau in Mk .– auf (κἂν,
des Geschichtssummariums findet sich nach Jeska (Geschichte Israels; vgl. auch die Rezension von W. Reinbold, Jeska, Joachim: Die Geschichte Israels in der Sicht des Lukas: ThLZ [] –) besonders in der frühjüdischen Historiographie, so z.B. bei Ben Sira (.– .) oder bei Josephus (BJ .–). Doch auch hier herrscht wenig terminologische Klarheit: So bezeichnen O. Michel/O. Bauernfeind (De Bello Judaico. Der Jüdische Krieg. Griechisch und Deutsch. Band II,: Buch IV-V, Darmstadt , ) ebendiesen Abschnitt in BJ als ein ‘Midrasch’. Vgl. z.B. Ps , , ; ; ; und dazu: D. Mathias, Geschichtstheologie; S. Kreuzer, Die Frühgeschichte Israels in Bekenntnis und Verkündigung des Alten Testaments, Berlin/ New York (BZAW ). Vgl. U. Wendel, Gemeinde, . S.o. Anm. . K. L. Schmid, Rahmen, f. hingegen zählt Mk .– nicht zu den Sammelberichten, da er Mk .– für ‘eine geschlossene Perikope’ hält (a.a.O., ), s.o. A. Yarbro Collins, Mark, bezeichnet Mk .– nur unspezifisch als ‘editorial formulation’ und ‘transitional passage’. Ich meine allerdings, dass innerhalb von Mk .– nur .– und innerhalb von Mk .– nur V. als eigentliche Summarien verstanden werden können: Indizien für diese Abgrenzungen sind einerseits, dass Mk .– singuläre Informationen enthält und für die Handlung relevant ist, und, dass sich andererseits zu Mk .– eine Parallele in Joh .– findet, die gerade kein Summarium ist.—Vgl. ähnlich auch H.-M. Schenke/K. M. Fischer, Einleitung, , die Mk .–; .–; .– als Summarien bezeichnen. So auch z.B. R. Bultmann, GST, ; G. Theißen, Wundergeschichten, oder zuletzt P. Dschulnigg, Markusevangelium, .—Auch in Mk .– (πολλούς, ὅσοι, πολλά) und Mk . (ὅσοι) begegnen Quantoren oder quantifizierende Relativpronomen. Vgl. dazu G. Theißen/A. Merz, Jesus, : Es werden in den synoptischen Summarien keine ‘Naturwunder’, also kein Seewandel, keine Brotvermehrung’ erzählt. ‘Diese galten schon in früher Zeit als nicht typische Wunder Jesu, sondern als Ausnahmen’.
EVE-MARIE BECKER
ἅπτομαι, ἱμάτιον, σῴζω). Doch neben dieser Wiederaufnahme von bekannten Erzählmotiven bringen die Summarien in Mk und auch eine gewisse narrative Steigerung zum Ausdruck: Das Schweigebot in Mk . geht über die vorausgehenden Schweigemotive (., ) hinaus. Und in Mk . geschehen die Heilungen in maximaler Öffentlichkeit (ἐν ταῖς ἀγοραῖς). Sie setzen nun, über die Heilung der Blutflüssigen hinausgehend, lediglich die Berührung des Saumes von Jesu Gewand voraus, wodurch Jesu Vollmacht als Wundertäter noch einmal gesteigert wird. Mk .: ἐὰν ἅψωμαι κἂν τῶν
ἱματίων αὐτοῦ σωϑήσομαι
Mk .: ἵνα κἂν τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ ἅψωνται…… ἐσῴζοντο
Offenbar liegt am Ende von Kapitel also der Akzent auf dem Wunderheiler Jesus, so dass weitere Exorzismen hier nicht mehr erwähnt werden. Doch weisen die drei Summarien in Kapitel , und im Detail auch einige Unterschiede auf. Markus also hat die Summarien-Form nicht standardisiert. Er bleibt vielmehr literarisch flexibel und schafft keine Stereotypen. . Die markinischen Summarien als makrotextuelle Scharniere und narratives emplotment
Besonders auffallend und erklärungsbedürftig ist schließlich der Umstand, dass Markus die Gestaltung der Summarien auf den ersten Teil seines Evangeliums, der in Galiläa stattfindet, noch genauer: auf die Kapitel –, beschränkt. Es finden sich hingegen weder Summarien in den Jerusalem-Überlieferungen, d.h. in den Kapiteln –, noch in den Abschnitten, in denen Jesus sich vermehrt auch außerhalb von Galiläa aufhält (Mk –). Diese Beobachtung verlangt nach einer Deutung. Ich versuche in dreifacher Hinsicht, eine solche Deutung zu geben, nämlich überlieferungsgeschichtlich, narratologisch und schließlich auch theologisch. Vgl. hierzu auch J. T. Cummings, The Tassel of his Cloak. Mark, Luke, Matthew—and Zechariah: Studia Biblica . II. Papers on the Gospels. Sixth International Congress on Biblical Studies. Oxford – April . Ed. by E. A. Linvingstone, Sheffield (JSNTS.SS ), –, bes. –, der nicht nur die Steigerung der Wundertätigkeit in Mk . gegenüber Mk .bff., sondern auch die Auslassung von τοῦ κρασπέδου in Mk . (vgl. Mt ./Lk .) auf markinische Redaktion zurückführt. Insgesamt ist—wie mir scheint—z.B. P. Dschulnigg, Sprache, bes. f. darin zuzustimmen, dass im Markus-Evangelium keine Kritik an Wundern begegnet: ‘Die Wunder werden vielmehr äusserst geschätzt und haben eine grundlegende Funktion für das Verständnis der Hoheit und Vollmacht Jesu, der Möglichkeiten des Glaubens und der Dimensionen des missionarischen Wirkens Jesu wie des Reiches Gottes’, a.a.O., . Vgl. z.B. den Umfang oder die unterschiedlich starke temporale Verknüpfung mit dem MikroKontext. Mk . hingegen ist—wie die lukanische Parallele andeutet (Lk .)—als Reisenotiz und nicht als summarische Verknüpfung zu verstehen.
Die markinischen Summarien
[] Zunächst zu den überlieferungsgeschichtlichen Aspekten: Martin Dibelius hat beobachtet, wie Lukas besonders in Apostelgeschichte – sog. Gemeindesummarien (z.B. Apg .–; .–; .–) in die Überlieferungen von der Jerusalemer Urgemeinde einfügt, um damit offenbar die ihm vorliegende schlechte, weil unzusammenhängende Überlieferung zu kompensieren: ‘Denn eine fortlaufende Erzählung von den Schicksalen der jerusalemischen Gemeinde gibt es überhaupt nicht…’ und ist ‘dem Verfasser weder überliefert noch von ihm gestaltet worden’. Ähnlich begrenzt und unzusammenhängend sind für Markus offenbar die Galiläa-Überlieferungen. Demnach täte sich—um noch einmal mit Dibelius zu sprechen—das pragmatische Bestreben des Autors der Apostelgeschichte wie des Markusevangeliums ‘nur in den verschiedenen Sammelberichten kund, die, zwischen die einzelnen Szenen und Erzählungen gestellt, Überleitungen und Verbreiterungen schaffen und so das in jenen Geschichten berichtete Einzelne als Spezialfall des hier geschilderten Zuständlichen erscheinen lassen’. So gesehen wird Markus—wohl aus Mangel an einer zusammenhängenden vormarkinischen Galiläa-Überlieferung —der Erfinder einer Kompositionstechnik, die besonders erfolgreich von Lukas adaptiert wird. Und wenn—wie Dibelius meint—gerade die Komposition von Summarien in der Apostelgeschichte Lukas zum ‘Schriftsteller’ macht, muss Analoges auch für Markus gelten. [] Markus liegt da, wo er über Jesu Wirken in Galiläa erzählt, kein kausal verknüpfter vormarkinischer Erzählzusammenhang vor, den er weiter ausgestalten könnte. Das ist in der Passionsgeschichte in Mk – deutlich anders: Diese beginnt vermutlich mit dem Tötungsplan des Hohen Rates (Mk .f.) und endet mit der Erzählung vom leeren Grab (Mk .–). Die Passionsgeschichte hat daher—narratologisch gesprochen—einen plot, d.h. eine fortschreitende dramatische Handlung. Während Markus mit der Passionsüberlieferung bereits eine Erzählung mit logischen Kausalverknüpfungen, also ein plot, vorgegeben ist, muss er einen solchen Erzählzusammenhang in Mk – selbst erst herstellen. Dieser Vorgang lässt sich nach Martinez/Scheffel als emplotment bezeichnen,
Vgl. dazu ausführlich U. Wendel, Gemeinde. M. Dibelius, Stilkritisches, . M. Dibelius, Stilkritisches, (Kursivsetzung durch Verf.in). Vgl. ähnlich auch P. Vielhauer, Geschichte der urchristlichen Literatur. Einleitung in das Neue Testament, die Apokryphen und die Apostolischen Väter, Berlin/New York , f.—Vgl. hier auch die Hinweise zu den späteren Summarien innerhalb von Apg – (.; .; .–; .) oder sogar .–, –). ‘… Angesichts einer solchen Aufgabe durfte der Verfasser nicht bloß Sammler sein, hier musste er Schriftsteller werden’, M. Dibelius, Geschichte der urchristlichen Literatur, hg. v. F. Hahn, München , . Vgl. dazu z.B. H. Antor, Art. Plot: Metzler Lexikon Literatur- und Kulturtheorie. Ansätze— Personen—Grundbegriffe, hg. A. Nünning, Stuttgart/Weimar , . Hier könnte die von E. M. Forster (Aspects of the Novel, London ) vorgeschlagene Unterscheidung von plot und story hilfreich sein: Während der plot kausale Verknüpfungen
EVE-MARIE BECKER
nämlich als ‘Erklärung durch formale Schlußfolgerung und Erklärung durch ideologische Implikation’. Als ein solches emplotment hatte Hayden White die narrative Strategie innerhalb von historiographischen Werken definiert, die die erzählte Geschichte mit Sinn (meaning) versehen soll: ‘Providing the “meaning” of a story by identifying the kind of story that has been told is called explanation by emplotment’. Das emplotment folgt gleichsam ‘einer anthropologisch bedingten Grunddisposition des Menschen als eines “pattern-building-animal”.’ Auch Markus agiert als ‘pattern-building-author’ und schafft ein solches emplotment in zweifacher Weise: Mit dem Hinweis auf den Tötungsplan in Mk . deutet er die Konsequenzen des Wirkens Jesu in Galiläa und verknüpft den ersten Teil seines Evangeliums mit dem plot der Passionsgeschichte. Mit den Summarien in Kapitel , und nimmt Markus ein mehrdimensionales emplotment vor: Er gliedert die Kapitel – makro-textuell, indem er die Summarien sachlich und geschichtlich gleichsam als Scharniere zwischen den Einzelerzählungen positioniert. Daneben präsentiert er mit den Summarien die essentials des Erzählten und deutet die Erzählung, indem er sie summiert und resümiert: Er wiederholt das in den Individualberichten Erzählte und verfolgt offenbar damit auch eine didaktische Intention: Dem Hörer oder Leser sollen sich besonders Jesu Wirken als Wunderheiler und Exorzist und damit ein durchaus erfolgreicher Aspekt des Wirkens Jesu einprägen. Wenn wir davon ausgehen,
voraussetzt (vgl. Mk –), geht die story auf temporale Verknüpfungen zurück (vgl. z.B. Mk –). Vgl. auch H. Antor, Art. Plot. M. Martinez/M. Scheffel, Einführung in die Erzähltheorie, München , . Vgl. H. White, The Content of the Form. Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation, Baltimore/London , : ‘… in telling a story, the historian necessarily reveals a plot’— hier mit Hinweis auf Paul Ricœur. H. White, Metahistory. The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe, Baltimore/ London , . White folgt hier (ff.) N. Fryes (Anatomy of Criticism. Four Essays, Pinceton ) vier ‘modes of emplotment’ (romance, Satire, Komödie, Tragödie), vgl. auch M. Martinez/M. Scheffel, Einführung, f. L. Volkmann, Art. Emplotment: A. Nünning (Hg.), Grundbegriffe der Literaturtheorie, Stuttgart/Weimar , –, mit Hinweis auf H. Antor, The Ethics of Criticism in the Age After Value: R. Ahrens/H. Volkmann (Eds.), Why literature matters. Theories and functions of literature, Heidelberg (Anglistische Forschungen ), –. Darauf weist auch R. Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses. The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony, Grand Rapids/Cambridge , hin. In diesem Zusammenhang ist natürlich auch Mk . als redaktioneller Eintrag des Tötungsbeschlusses, der der Verknüpfung der Galiläa-Erzählung mit dem plot der Passionserzählung dienen soll, zu verstehen.—Die Summarien ‘spiegeln die Struktur des Geschichtsverständnisses: es beruht nicht auf kausaler Verknüpfung, sondern auf dem Finden des Gesamtsinnes in den einzelnen Vorgängen’, H. Conzelmann, Apostelgeschichte, . Ähnlich auch C. W. Hedrick, Role, im Blick auf z.B. Mk .: This summary ‘emphasizes the popularity of Jesus’ healing ministry…’.—Insofern sind die Summarien auch elementare
Die markinischen Summarien
dass die Evangelienschrift zunächst auditiv rezipiert wurde, helfen die Summarien nicht nur dabei, die essentials der Erzählung zu memorieren, sondern auch den Erzählzusammenhang zu erfassen. So zielen die Summarien faktisch darauf, wichtige Aspekte des Wirkens Jesu zu einer generalisierenden story zu machen, die dann auch vom Hörer oder Leser jenseits von an Zeit, Ort und Personen gebundenen Einzelereignissen mnemohistorisch verstanden werden kann: Markus generiert hier eine ‘hot memory’. Zugleich deuten die Summarien die von Markus erzählte Geschichte und gewähren auch Einblick in die ‘ideologischen Implikationen’, die seiner Evangelienschreibung zugrundeliegen: Hörer und Leser außerhalb Galiläas sollen den Erzählzusammenhang verstehen und die essentials memorieren können. Doch warum begrenzt Markus die Summarien auf die Kapitel –? In Mk – scheinen an die Stelle der Summarien nun die Leidensweissagungen Jesu zu treten (Mk .; .; .–). Auch sie gliedern die Erzählung makro-textuell und haben, indem sie zweimal wiederholt werden, eine didaktische Funktion. Im Unterschied zu den Summarien in Mk – greift Markus mit den Leidensweissagungen jedoch nicht anaphorisch auf bereits Erzähltes zurück, sondern exzerpiert hier kataphorisch Teile des frühchristlichen Kerygmas, wie wir es vor allem aus Kor .b- kennen: So sind die Leidensweissagungen in Hinsicht auf ihre literarische Funktion am ehesten mit der Verkündigungs-Epitome in Mk .f. zu vergleichen und dann am besten als Passions-Epitome zu bezeichnen. Mit der Konzeption seiner Summarien ist Markus der Erfinder einer Textgruppe, die von den Seitenreferenten Matthäus und Lukas rezipiert, z.T. auch literarisch
Textabschnitte, die z.B. für die jüngste kognitionspsychologische Erforschung der markinischen Hörer- oder Leserschaft viel stärker als eigenständige Textgruppe ausgewertet werden müssen, vgl. z.B. K. M. Hartvigsen, ‘Prepare the Way of the Lord’. Diese Beobachtung konvergiert mit dem, was M. Reiser, Syntax und Stil des Markusevangeliums im Licht der hellenistischen Volksliteratur, Tübingen (WUNT .), – über den ‘mündlichen Erzählstil’ des Evangelisten Markus hervorgehoben hat.—So hat W. Marxsen, Evanglist, bes. durchaus Richtiges gesehen, wenn er das Markus-Evangelium als eine ‘Predigt’ versteht. Vice versa weist J. le Goff, Geschichte und Gedächtnis, Berlin , bes f. darauf hin, dass die Entwicklung von schriftlicher Erinnerung in der Antike gerade der Überwindung von geographischen Distanzen dient. W. H. Kelber, The Works of Memory. Christian Origins as Mnemohistory—A Response: Memory, Tradition, and Text. Uses of the Past in Early Christianity, ed. by A. Kirk/T. Thatcher, Atlanta (Semeia Studies ), –, . Mark undertakes ‘a productive redescription of tradition, to challenge social identities, and to recommemorate the past’, a.a.O., f. Vgl. dazu auch G. Strecker, Die Leidens- und Auferstehungsvoraussagen im Markusevangelium (Mk .; .; .–): ZThK () –, bes. , der die geschichtsdeutende Funktion der Leidensvoraussagen betont.
EVE-MARIE BECKER
ausgebaut wird. Matthäus und Lukas führen Markus in der Komposition und Anordnung der Summarien weitgehend fort: Matthäus folgt der markinischen Vorlage durchgängig, nimmt aber auch Umstellungen vor und bearbeitet darüber hinaus die ihm vorliegenden Summarien redaktionell, verdoppelt sie teilweise sogar. Auch Lukas greift—mit Ausnahme in seiner sog. Auslassung (Mk .– .)—die markinischen Summarien auf. Zugleich hat er—wohl stärker als Matthäus—‘die summarische Form als eigenständige Größe wahrgenommen und verarbeitet’. Dies zeigt sich nicht nur, wie schon gesehen, in Apg –, sondern auch bereits innerhalb des Lukas-Evangeliums (z.B. Lk .–; .). Interessanterweise verzichtet das Johannes-Evangelium vollständig auf Summarien. Es wäre weiterführend zu fragen, ob Johannes sowie ein späterer Redaktor diesen Mangel an einer übergreifenden und generalisierenden Darstellung des Wunderwirkens Jesu, wie er sich bei Markus findet, im ersten und zweiten sog. Epilog in Joh .f. und Joh . selbst sehen und reflektieren: ‘Gewiß tat Jesus Vgl. Mt .–par. Mk .–; Mt .– und .–par. Mk .–; Mt .–par. Mk .–.—Zur redaktionellen Bearbeitung s.o., vgl. aber z.B. auch die Verknüpfung mit einem Erfüllungszitat in Mt .. Zum ersten von Markus übernommenen Summarium in Mt .f. vgl. U. Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus. . Teilband Mt –, Neukirchen-Vluyn (EKK I/), : ‘Heilungswunder sind von Mk her als Hauptinhalt von Summarien überliefert; Mt hält sich darin an seine Quelle’. Luz analysiert allerdings die markinische Vorlage hier wie folgt: Mt .a = Mk .; Mt .b.c = Mk .–; Mt . = Mk .f. und kommt zum Schluß: ‘Der Evangelist überblickt also weite Teile seiner Mk-Quelle und exzerpiert sie’, ebd. Vgl. Lk .–par. Mk .–; Lk .–par. Mk .–.—Zur lukanischen Bearbeitung der markinischen Summarien vgl. auch U. Wendel, Gemeinde, –. U. Wendel, Gemeinde, . Vgl. generell bereits H. J. Cadbury, The Style and Literary Method of Luke. II The Treatment of Sources in the Gospel, Cambridge , bes. –: ‘With extraordinary fidelity Luke avoids amplifying or exaggerating his source in these summaries of Jesus’ work or fame’ (a.a.O., ). ‘Perhaps the chief liberty that Luke takes with Mark’s summaries is the liberty of repeating them, so as to apply them to two or three successive stages in his own narrative’ mit Hinweis auf Mk .par. Lk .,; . (a.a.O., ). Allerdings bleibt bei Cadbury die Klassifikation von ‘Summarien’ undeutlich, so dass speziell die lukanische Rezeption der markinischen Summarien, die als solche eindeutig identifiziert werden können, untersucht werden müßte.—In Lk .– (Lk .–par. Mk .–) hat Lukas zwei Sammelberichte (V. –; V. ) mit vier Einzelgeschichten verknüpft: Lukas verwendete die markinische Kompositionstechnik der Summarien, ‘um Atempausen in der spannenden Erzählung und elegante Übergänge zu schaffen’, F. Bovon, Das Evangelium nach Lukas. . Teilband Lk .–., Neukirchen-Vluyn (EKK III/), . Vgl. ders., a.a.O., – auch zur redaktionellen (sprachlichen und stilistischen) Bearbeitung der markinischen Vorlage.—Zu Lk . vgl. auch M. Wolter, Das Lukasevangelium, Tübingen (HNT ), , der das Summarium zugleich als ‘theo-logische Coda’ bezeichnet. Könnte dann sogar zutreffend sein, was Wrede vergleichend über Markus und Johannes geschrieben hatte: ‘Man betrachte Markus durch ein starkes Vergrösserungsglas, und man hat etwa eine Schriftstellerei, wie sie Johannes zeigt’, W. Wrede, Messiasgeheimnis, .
Die markinischen Summarien
viele und andere (πολλὰ… καὶ ἄλλα) Zeichen vor [seinen] Jüngern…’ (Joh ). ‘Es gibt aber auch vieles Andere (καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ…), was Jesus tat…’ (Joh ). Die markinischen Summarien sind also als eine spezifische literarische Leistung des Autors und Schriftstellers Markus zu würdigen. Das wird auch daran deutlich, dass Matthäus und Lukas diese Textgruppe rezipieren und ausbauen. Dem für die weitere Auslegungsgeschichte prägenden Diktum Johann Gottfried Herders: ‘Kein Evangelium hat so wenig Schriftstellerisches und so viel lebendigen Laut eines Erzählers wie dieses’, können wir uns also nicht einfach anschließen. Denn gerade die Summarien zeigen die schriftstellerische Leistung des Evangelisten Markus. [] Wichtig ist weiterhin die eigenständige theologische Funktion der Summarien, die ich abschließend skizzieren möchte. Mit Mk .– und .– entwickelt Markus wichtige Aspekte seiner Messiasgeheimnistheorie: Weil die Dämonen die einzigen Wesen sind, die zwischen der Taufe Jesu (Mk .; .) und dem Bekenntnis des Petrus (Mk .) die Messianität Jesu erkennen, müssen sie zum Schweigen gebracht werden. Auf der Erzählebene ist dieses Schweigen übrigens durchaus erfolgreich, denn die ‘Dämonen übertreten das Gebot nicht’. Mit dem Summarium in Kapitel schließlich steigert Markus die Wundertätigkeit Jesu im Blick auf das Wunderwirken und den Grad der Öffentlichkeit: Jetzt genügt zur Heilung, den Saum des Gewandes Jesu zu berühren. Da diese Heilungen in größter Öffentlichkeit stattfinden (ἐν ταῖς ἀγοραῖς), können hier keine Dämonen mehr erwähnt werden, da diese die wahre Identität Jesu zu früh offiziell verbreiten würden. Doch offiziell und unwidersprochen wird die Identität Jesu erst nach seinem Tod durch den Kenturio (Mk .) erkannt und coram publico bekannt werden. So modelliert Vgl. J. G. Herder, Christliche Schriften. Zweite Sammlung, Riga , in: B. Suphan (Hg.), Sämtliche Werke Bd. , Berlin , . In dieser Hinsicht ist auch M. Reiser, Sprache und literarische Formen des Neuen Testaments. Eine Einführung, Paderborn etc. (UTB ), kritisch. Wichtig für den Diskurs über die Identität Jesu sind schließlich auch Mk .– und .–: Vgl. dazu E.-M. Becker, Elija redivivus im Markus-Evangelium? Zur Typologisierung von Wiederkehr-Vorstellungen: H. Lichtenberger/U. Mittmann-Richert (Hgg.), Biblical Figures in Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature, Berlin/New York (DCLY ), –. H. Räisänen, ‘Messiasgeheimnis’, .—Das Schweigegebot in Folge von Heilungen wird hingegen vielfach nicht eingehalten vgl. z.B. Mk .; .f.—Zugleich verwendet Markus die Schweigegebote im Sinne einer literarischen Autor-Leser-Strategie: Denn mit dem Messiasgeheimnis hängt Markus gleichsam ein ‘Schloß vor die Türe’ seiner Evangelienschrift, ‘das nur denen auffällt, die es öffnen können, und den anderen nicht’, L. Wittgenstein, Vermischte Bemerkungen. Eine Auswahl aus dem Nachlaß, hg. v. G. H. von Wright, unter Mitarbeit von H. Nyman, Frankfurt , : ‘Ist ein Buch nur für wenige geschrieben, so wird sich das eben dadurch zeigen, daß nur wenige es verstehen. Das Buch muß automatisch die Scheidung derer bewirken, die es verstehen, und die es nicht verstehen…’.
EVE-MARIE BECKER
Markus mit den Summarien einen wesentlichen Teil seiner Jesulogie und deutet besonders das Wunderwirken Jesu in Galiläa aus: ‘An der verallgemeinernden Zustandsschilderung liegt dem Evangelisten offenbar ebensoviel wie am Aufweis der Kohärenz der Ereignisfolge’. Mit der Textgruppe der Summarien entwickelt Markus gleichsam einen wichtigen Bestandteil einer Erzählung über die Jesus-Christus-Geschichte. Er gibt zugleich Einblick in seine literarischen Intentionen, die er mit der Abfassung seiner Evangelienschrift insgesamt verfolgt: Er will die Jesus-ChristusGeschichte generalisierend und universalisierend erzählen. Der ‘Sitz im Leben’ der Summarien bzw. das sozio-kulturelle setting ist die Lektüre des Evangeliums selbst. So sind die Summarien als schriftstellerische Leistung des Markus kaum zu überschätzen. Als William Wrede schrieb, Markus sei als ‘Schriftsteller’ zu begreifen, wollte er der seinerzeit historistischen Ansicht entgegentreten, Markus habe ‘bei seiner Geschichtserzählung die wirklichen Verhältnisse des Lebens Jesu annähernd deutlich’ vor Augen gehabt. Gegenwärtig bedeutet die Einsicht in die schriftstellerische Tätigkeit des Markus, von bloßen Quellentheorien oder Erzähltextanalysen loszukommen. Dagegen ist eine Sicht auf die literarische Leistung des frühesten Evangelisten notwendig: Denn so wie Markus der Schriftsteller und Theologe mit den Summarien eine synoptische Textgruppe kreiert und das Wirken Jesu deutet und fortschreibt, so generiert er mit seiner Schrift ein zugleich narratives wie theologisches genre, nämlich Evangelienliteratur. German abstract: Ausgehend von einer konzisen Bestimmung der literarischen Form eines Summariums, die zu dessen Abgrenzung von einer Epitome oder einem Geschichtsabriss führt, untersucht der vorliegende Beitrag die literarische und theologische Funktion der drei Summarien, die im Markus-Evangelium (Mk .–; .–; .–) begegnen: Durch diese Summarien gliedert der Verfasser seine Erzählung in Kap. – makro-textuell. Zugleich nimmt er mit den Summarien eine theologische Interpretation und ein narratives emplotment der galiläischen Wirksamkeit Jesu vor und führt dabei wichtige Themen der Evangelienerzählung selbständig aus. P. Vielhauer, Geschichte, . Dementsprechend ist die geschichtsdeutende Funktion der markinischen Summarien verwandt mit derjenigen in den Geschichtssummarien: ‘In all diesen Geschichtssummarien und auch in den Geschichtspsalmen ging es nicht um Geschichte an sich, sondern immer zugleich um die aktuelle Bedeutung der Geschichte’ Es geht nicht um ‘Geschichte an sich und um ihrer selbst willen, sondern um die aus dieser Geschichte gewordene Gegenwart und um den verpflichtenden, mahnenden, warnenden oder auch ermutigenden Sinn dieser Geschichte’, S. Kreuzer, Frühgeschichte, . W. Wrede, Messiasgeheimnis, .
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000135
Lilies Do Not Spin: A Challenge to Female Social Norms LEE A. JOH N SON East Carolina University, Religious Studies Program, Greenville, NC 27858, USA. email:
[email protected]
R O B E RT C. TA N N E H I L L Methodist Theological School in Ohio, 3081 Columbus Pike, Delaware, OH 43015, USA. email:
[email protected]
The saying about the birds and lilies presents a challenge to the expected domestic roles of men, in providing food, and women, in providing clothing, opening the possibility that these duties can be neglected because of a higher priority. This challenge is relevant to situations reflected in other Q texts. The challenge is a threat both to a family’s livelihood and to honor status. Evidence is presented showing that spinning and weaving have special importance in cultural models of the ideal woman and contribute to a woman’s honor. This evidence broadens our awareness of the potential conflict with social norms in the birds and lilies passage. Keywords: Matt .–, Luke .–, women, honor, spinning
. The Challenge to Men and Women in the Q Saying about Birds and Lilies
Some interpreters have recognized that the passage about the birds and lilies (or ravens and lilies in Luke) refers in sequence to the male activity of sowing and harvesting and to the female activity of spinning, forming a male/female pair. Male/ female pairing is a repeated feature of sayings in the early Jesus tradition. This literary See Richard Dillon, ‘Ravens, Lilies, and the Kingdom of God’, CBQ () ; Luise Schottroff, ‘Itinerant Prophetesses: A Feminist Analysis of the Sayings Source Q’, The Gospel behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (Leiden: E. J. Brill, ) ; Schottroff, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ) ; Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus (EKK; Zürich: Benziger; Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener, ) – [The translation in the Hermeneia series, which, referring to sowing and harvesting, puts ‘two characteristic tasks of a human’ for ‘zwei charakteristische Arbeiten des Mannes’, misses the point.]; Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, ) –; Walter Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (THKNT; Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, n.d.)
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
feature has been studied at length by Denis Fricker against the background of Palestinian realities, Semitic parallelism, and Greek rhetoric. He lists seven instances of such pairing: Mark .– par.; Q .–; Q ., –; Q .–; Luke .– ; Q .–; Luke .–. This list includes the passage on the ravens and lilies, to which Fricker devotes a chapter. Fricker believes that the ‘mixed pair’ is an ‘original and remarkable’ feature of the discourse of the historical Jesus. Men should do outside work and women the work of the home according to the instructions of Xenophon and Philo. It is doubtful that this division could be strictly observed in families engaged in subsistence agriculture. If extra hands were needed at harvest time, it is likely that women and children joined the workforce. Nevertheless, harvesting would be regarded as men’s work with which women were assisting. The effect of this male/female pairing is debatable. Including material related to both men and women suggests a desire to address both, which would give women more importance than in a traditional male-dominated society. However, this pairing may seem to perpetuate a division of work that tends to confine women to the home by accepting this division without question. The passage about the birds and lilies, however, questions the importance of ordinary work for both men and women. Their priority must be seeking God’s kingdom (Matt .; Luke .). The powerful words about the birds and the lilies can encourage men to neglect farming and women to neglect spinning, a break with prudent and honorable behavior, according to normal social standards. Recent discussion of this text has sometimes recognized this social impact and sometimes not. Some scholars, in an effort to establish the earliest version,
; John S. Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) ; Hans Klein, Das Lukasevangelium (KEK; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) . Denis Fricker, Quand Jésus parle au masculine–féminin (Études bibliques; Paris: J. Gabalda, ). Fricker, Quand Jésus parle, . Others include additional texts from Q (here cited by their Lukan location): .– (father against son, mother against daughter), .– (father and mother, son and daughter), . (marrying and being married). See William E. Arnal, ‘Gendered Couplets in Q and Legal Formulations: From Rhetoric to Social History’, JBL () . Fricker, Quand Jésus parle, . Xenophon Oeconomicus .–, (Xenophon, Memorabilia and Oeconomicus [LCL; Cambridge, MA; Harvard University, ] –); Philo Special Laws .– (Philo, vol. [LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ] –); Flaccus (Philo, vol. [LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ] –). Noted by Aida Besançon Spencer, ‘Jesus’ Treatment of Women in the Gospels’, Discovering Biblical Equality (ed. Ronald W. Pierce and Rebecca Merrill Groothuis; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, ) –. Fricker provides supporting argument for understanding sowing/harvesting as male labor and spinning as female labor. See Quand Jésus parle, –, –. See Schottroff, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters, .
Lilies Do Not Spin
remove the command to seek the kingdom (Matt . par. Luke .) as a later addition. The effect of this critical procedure is to remove the sharp contrast between normal human anxiety about basic needs and the new demands of the kingdom. This version would simply support passive acceptance of normal life, with the encouragement to endure it with less anxiety. If such a version ever existed, it would have a distinctly different function than the text in Matthew, Luke, and, evidently, in Q. This deletion is rightly rejected by Ulrich Luz. It presupposes that the early text reflected normal wisdom rather than using wisdom forms to preach an inversion of normal wisdom. A counsel to be less anxious in doing one’s daily work would not require, or explain, the strongly argumentative text that we find in the Gospels, which adopts forceful and imaginative language to make its case. The unit is argumentative because it must resist the strong tendency of normal, insecure humans to focus on securing food and clothing, regarded as the essentials of life. The hearer is confronted with direct commands, both negative and positive. The initial negative command not to be anxious is supported by a pattern of duality, established by referring first to food and then to clothing, followed by a rationale that questions the tendency to make these dominant concerns (Matt .; Luke .–). This duality is developed in the following references to the feeding of birds and the clothing of lilies. These references function as rhetorical ‘proofs’ in the argument. The argument proceeds by contrast. Hearers are asked to consider what the ‘birds of the sky’ or the ‘ravens’ do not do. They do not sow nor reap nor store away grain as men do in order to provide food. Yet God feeds them. Birds are common creatures, and most farmers pay little attention to them, unless they are destructive pests. But here farmers are asked to observe birds more carefully. There is something about their way of life that makes them remarkable—and also makes a man’s hard labor remarkable. Birds do not engage in any elaborate process of food production, yet they survive. It is easy to object, of course, that some birds die of starvation. One can still reply that birds get by about as well as humans do, despite their much simpler way of obtaining food. To the observation about the birds is attached an argument from the lesser to the greater: God’s care manifest in the survival of the birds Dieter Zeller, Die weisheitlichen Mahnsprüche bei den Synoptikern (FB; Würzburg: Echter, ) ; Paul Hoffmann, Tradition und Situation: Studien zur Jesusüberlieferung in der Logienquelle und den synoptischen Evangelien (NTAbh; Münster: Aschendorff, ) . Luz, Matthäus, . The rationale is a question expecting a positive answer in Matthew. It is a supportive statement in Luke. Most texts of Matthew add a reference to drink in . (missing in Sinaiticus and some other texts), but only the references to food and clothing are developed in .–. So Hans Dieter Betz in his rhetorically oriented commentary. See The Sermon on the Mount (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, ) .
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
applies much more to those people being addressed. This counters the reasonable objection that humans cannot live like birds. The section on the lilies follows the same pattern as the section on the birds, with elaboration. Repetition is a means of emphasis (here the same pattern of language makes the same point, while varying the imagery). The desire to be emphatic is manifest in the repetition, in the elaboration through comparison with Solomon, and in the use of strong diction. The lilies, like the birds, are contrasted with laboring humans, especially women, who must work to provide clothing for themselves and their families. Spinning is selected to represent this process. Then the contrast is developed with regard to the quality of the clothing. The lilies, which, after all, are only part of the short-lived meadow grass, are dressed more grandly than ‘Solomon in all his glory’. Emphatic phrases underscore the contrast: ‘Not even Solomon’, ‘in all his glory’, ‘grass of the field that exists today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven’. Then the point is scored by proclaiming ‘how much more’ God cares for the people being addressed. This claim allows a return to the initial command not to be anxious or seek after food, now supported by the intervening argument. Matthew . par. Luke . is the Q. E. D. of the argument, even though this negative command leads on to the contrasting positive command in Matt . and Luke .. Thus the sections about the birds and the lilies follow a repetitive pattern that emphasizes and builds to a climax through elaboration, adding force to the utterance. These forceful and imaginative words are shaped to present a powerful challenge to conventional thinking and thereby offer men and women the freedom to seek God’s kingdom, in spite of human insecurity. The birds and the lilies may serve as exempla of a broader and deeper reality— a world of abundance and beauty that exists prior to human striving and testifies to a benevolent power that supports life. The birds and lilies are not unique, for other examples could be substituted or added to the list. Here, however, the birds and lilies take on unusual importance for humans because they are chosen to represent this deeper reality. The artful form and forceful language of this rhetorical argument give them this importance. W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, Jr., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) ., recognize that spinning is women’s work but believe that the paired verb κοπιῶσιν refers to men’s work. This is doubtful. κοπιάω is a general term for hard work. It is applied to women in Rom ., . In Luke . Codex Bezae and a few of the Old Latin and Syriac versions have οὔτ1 νήθ1ι οὔτ1 ὑϕαίν1ι, ‘neither spin nor weave’ in place of ‘they grow; they do not toil nor spin’. This alternative reading has attracted attention despite its rather weak textual support. Bruce M. Metzger indicates that it was rejected ‘after much hesitation’ by the Editorial Committee of the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament. See A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (London/New York: United Bible Societies, ) . It was accepted in the th edition of the Nestle–Aland text. Hans Klein, Lukasevangelium, n. , argues in its favor. This, of course, is a rhetorical argument against which many objections could be raised. To feel its force, one may have to do as instructed—spend some time observing the birds and
Lilies Do Not Spin
In these words the speaker does not specify what seeking the kingdom requires. Only the tension with ordinary domestic life stands out. This is not regulatory language, which is concerned with clear regulations for behavior. Serious responses could vary, ranging from complete abandonment of food and clothing production to reducing time and effort spent on these tasks. Restricting ourselves to evidence from Q material, there are at least three situations (not mutually exclusive) that might be addressed by these challenging words: . .
.
hearing the call to leave home and continue the wandering mission of Jesus, as reflected in Q .–; .–. experiencing a threat to one’s livelihood due to rejection and ostracism, which might make it hard to market crops in exchange for other necessities. Many Q texts reflect this threat: .–, ; .–; .–, –, , ; .–; .. hearing the call to radical charity, which would quickly deplete family resources and threaten the family’s ability to obtain products necessary for farming and domestic crafts. See Q .; .; .. This call is supported by warnings against attachment to wealth in Q .–; ..
the wild flowers. If one finds there some cause of amazement—signs of a benevolent force at work within transient life—and if one agrees with the speaker on the surpassing value of God’s kingdom, the words may have their intended effect. William Arnal (‘Gendered Couplets in Q’, –) denies that the Q couplets indicate a higher valuation of women partly because the best parallels, in his view, are found in ancient legal or regulatory texts that wish to make clear that certain regulations apply also to women. It may be true that these regulatory texts and the Q couplets both refer to men and women in order to be comprehensive, but there the similarity ends. Regulatory texts attempt to regulate external behavior, using clear and literal language to specify what is acceptable and what is unacceptable behavior and to whom the regulations apply. The words about the birds and lilies instead use forceful and imaginative language, and they leave those addressed with considerable freedom to decide what is the appropriate response for them. These words address the moral imagination rather than external behavior. Changed behavior may result, but there is no attempt to define clearly what that behavior should be. Arnal also says, ‘[I]n no instance of direct exhortation is any effort made to pair examples by gender’ in Q (‘Gendered Couplets’, ). This claim can only be made because he mistakenly excludes the birds and lilies passage from consideration. The Q texts are cited according to their position in Luke. For a careful attempt to determine the wording of Q, see James M. Robinson, Paul Hoffmann, and John S. Kloppenborg, eds., The Critical Edition of Q (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, ). James M. Robinson, et al., Critical Edition of Q, includes the reference to lending in Luke . in a reconstructed text of Q, with an indication that this reconstruction is ‘probable but uncertain’. See lxxxii, . Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q, , includes the ravens and lilies passage among subcollections in Q that advocate an ‘adventuresome social practice—including debt
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
This evidence indicates that the sharp challenge in the birds and lilies passage was relevant to real situations in the lives of the early followers of Jesus. While the references to farming and spinning may, by synecdoche, imply other sorts of labor, most of the villagers of Galilee would, in fact, be involved in farming and (for women) cloth production. Food and clothing are basic human needs. It is not surprising that humans through the centuries have spent much of their time and effort seeking them. Yet the birds and lilies text challenges people to direct their concern and effort away from these needs and, relying on God’s care, to adopt a risky lifestyle for the sake of God’s kingdom. In so doing, these sharp words conflict with and challenge the conventional wisdom of the time. According to Xenophon, Socrates praised those who did their work well. [T]he best men and dearest to the gods . . . are those who do their work well; if it is farming, as good farmers; if medicine, as good doctors; if politics, as good politicians.
Interrupting or neglecting the time-sensitive work of farming would make one a poor farmer in the eyes of peers. Furthermore, it would open the farmer to criticism that he is a neglectful and improvident supporter of his family and even lazy. The book of Proverbs has a number of comments about such people. A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich. A child who gathers in summer is prudent, but a child who sleeps in harvest brings shame. (Prov .–) Anyone who tills the land will have plenty of bread, but one who follows worthless pursuits will have plenty of poverty. (Prov .)
The farmer judged to have ‘a slack hand’ because he ‘follows worthless pursuits’ would be subject to such criticism. The famous passage about the ant provides further criticism of farmers who neglect their work. The ant is a corrective model for the lazy because the ant ‘prepares its food in summer, and gathers its sustenance in harvest’ (Prov .–). The ant is also a model in the fables
forgiveness, the eschewing of vengeance, and the embracing of an exposed and marginal lifestyle’. Concerning the question whether μ1ριμνάω implies a mental state or a concern expressed in action, the comment of Luz is appropriate: ‘Man darf beide Momente des “Sorgens”, die Angst um Dasein und das aktive Sich-Mühen, nicht auseinanderreißen. “Sorge” is ein Handeln aus Angst, praktizierte Angst ums Dasein.’ Luz, Matthäus, . Xenophon Memorabilia .. (Xenophon, Memorabilia and Oeconomicus [LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ] –). See also Prov .; .; .; .–.
Lilies Do Not Spin
of Babrius and Phaedrus, showing that the counsel to prudent foresight and disciplined labor is not just the counsel of the Jewish upperclass but is the common wisdom of the ancient Mediterranean world. Among the fables we find three versions of the story contrasting the prudent and industrious ant with its opposite. Poverty due to a lack of focused effort is not only an economic problem. It affects one’s honor. Poverty brings disgrace, according to the wisdom tradition. Poverty and disgrace are for the one who ignores instruction, but one who heeds reproof is honored. (Prov .) If the poor are hated even by their kin, how much more are they shunned by their friends! When they call after them, they are not there. (Prov .) When one looks to the table of another, one’s way of life cannot be considered a life. One loses self-respect with another person’s food. (Sir .)
Then, as now, being able to care for oneself and one’s family was a point of honor. This affects the honor of women also. Wives and mothers who are able to provide clothing for their families are successfully performing their proper role in society, and this earns them respect. Indeed, spinning and weaving were at that time so important in views of the proper wife and mother that they became iconic activities of the honorable woman. Their importance is shown by this remarkable observation: While women in poor families spin and weave out of necessity, women in elite families with domestic servants who could do the work are also expected to spin and weave, for this is part of the ideal of an honorable woman. An exhortation that demotes spinning and places priority on God’s kingdom is a potential challenge to this ideal. Thus, in opening the possibility of neglecting domestic work for a greater commitment, both economic security and honor status are at stake.
‘The ethic of Proverbs is the ethic of the bureaucratic elite’, according to J. David Pleins, Anchor Bible Dictionary (ed. David Noel Freedman; New York: Doubleday, ) .. This suggests that its warnings against slackness apply most appropriately to those who start with privileges and then squander them, rather than to those trapped in poverty from the beginning. But that would not limit the way that the wisdom sayings were applied in later times. Babrius and Phaedrus (LCL; ed. Ben Edwin Perry; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ) –, –, . See also Prov . and Luke ., where the steward says, ‘I am ashamed to beg’. For the purposes of this essay, the term ‘elite’ will be applied to families and women who have domestic servants sufficient to produce fabric and clothing for the household. Either spinning or weaving, by synecdoche, can stand for the whole process of fabric and clothing production.
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
. Spinning and Weaving as Women’s Work in Ancient Society
Literary and archaeological evidence shows that girls and women, regardless of class, were expected to know how to spin and weave, and employing these skills was a sign of an honorable woman. Suzanne Dixon describes cloth-making as the ‘quintessentially female task’, based in part upon recovered loom weights from every excavated garden in Pompeii and Herculaneum. An annual event in Athens—the Panathenaia—celebrated the origin of the city, order from disorder, and civic unity. Part of the ceremony was the weaving of a new πέπλος (decorative tunic) by selected girls and women for Athena. This garment was dedicated to her in the Acropolis temple. The connection between weaving and civic unity was borrowed from a long-standing tradition of a girl’s preparation for marriage, marked by spinning and weaving cloth into a πέπλος in honor of her pending union. The act of weaving a garment was symbolic of the union of a man and woman, whereby opposing fibers—the warp running vertically, and the woof running horizontally—combine to create a unified and beautiful garment from once-distinct strands. The process of weaving marked the transition of the girl into womanhood; as she displays her skill as a weaver, she reveals her mastery of the quintessential task of a wife and mother. As the epitome of female perfection, Mary also is depicted at the loom in the second-century CE apocryphal gospel, the Protevangelium of James. Mary is chosen as one of seven undefiled virgins who will weave a veil for the temple of See Carolyn Osiek and Margaret Y. MacDonald, A Woman’s Place: House Churches in Earliest Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) , . For a recent discussion of women’s honor, showing that it could be acquired in other ways than sexual purity, see Zeba Crook, ‘Honor, Shame, and Social Status Revisited’, JBL / () –. Suzanne Dixon cites Jashemski’s study of the gardens in Pompeii and Herculaneum. See Reading Roman Women: Sources, Genres and Real Life (London: Duckworth, ) . We owe thanks to Sarah Iles Johnston for this discussion. Her fascinating work ‘A New Web for Arachne’ (unpublished paper given at the Women in the Religious and Intellectual Activity of the Ancient Mediterranean World Conference in honor of Adela Yarbro Collins, Methodist Theological School in Ohio and Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio, March –, ) discusses the tradition of the Panathenaia and the weaving of the πέπλος in Athens. Adding to the notion of the unity of the man and woman were the gender-specific terms: ‘warp’ as masculine and vertical and ‘woof’ as feminine and horizontal. The warp was made of a stiff thread and the woof a more supple thread. Both Seneca and Aristotle elaborated upon the sexual conjugal imagery already inherent in the gendered terminology of weaving. Seneca used the word ‘coitus’ to describe the interaction of the warp and woof, and Aristotle noted that the weights attached to the warp to hold the threads in position were comparable to testicles. (John Scheid and Jesper Svenbro, The Craft of Zeus [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ] .) W. Burkert, ‘The Legend of Kekrops’ Daughters and the Arrhephoria: From Initiation Ritual to Panathenaic Festival’, Savage Energies: Lessons of Myth and Ritual in Ancient Greece (Chicago: Chicago University, ) –.
Lilies Do Not Spin
the Lord. Mary, by lot, is selected to weave the true purple and scarlet cloth (the most precious colors). As she is weaving, she is visited by the angel of the Lord who informs her that she will bear the son of God (.–.). In addition to the symbolic and pragmatic function of spinning and weaving in marking the transition from childhood to adulthood, from girl to woman, and from virgin to wife, the work of spinning was synonymous with virtue for women in the Greco-Roman world. Within the ranks of the wealthy, literary evidence for spinning as a sign of women’s virtue is well attested. Livy records a debate in the ‘Rape of Lucretia’ between Collatinus and some other princes, away from home, as to whose wife was superior in chastity. When the discussion became heated, Collatinus proposes that they ride home and check on their wives’ behavior unbeknownst to the women. The wives of the royal princes were discovered among friends at a luxurious dinner party, while Lucretia, the wife of Collatinus, was ‘hard at work by lamplight upon her spinning. Which wife had won the contest in womanly virtue was no longer in doubt’ (.). One of the women lauded in Plutarch’s Bravery of Women is Aretaphila, whose bold actions rescued the city of Cyrene from the destructive rule of Nicocrates. In response to her bravery, the citizens entreated her to share in the governance of the city, but her reaction matched the portrait of the ideal woman in the Greco-Roman world: ‘when she saw the city free, [she] withdrew at once to her own quarters among the women, and, rejecting any sort of meddling in affairs, spent the rest of her life quietly at the loom in the company of her friends and family’ (E). Musonius Rufus also confirms the image of the woman who spins and weaves. In his controversial essay, That Women Too Should Study Philosophy, he argues that philosophical study would only serve to enhance the virtuous hardworking nature of women. When an interlocutor argues that study might make women arrogant, ‘in that abandoning their own households . . . they practice speeches, talk like sophists, and analyze syllogisms, when they ought to be The connections between spinning and the Protevangelium of James were made by Jeremy F. Hultin (unpublished ‘Response to Sarah Iles Johnston’s “A New Web for Arachne”,’ at the Women in the Religious and Intellectual Activity of the Ancient Mediterranean World Conference in honor of Adela Yarbro Collins, Methodist Theological School in Ohio and Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio, March –, ). Proclus of Constantinople elevated the process of weaving to a spiritual plane through his reading of this passage: ‘[Mary] is the awesome loom of the divine economy upon which the robe of union was ineffably woven. The loom-worker was the Holy Spirit; the wool-worker the “overshadowing power from on high”. The wool was the ancient fleece of Adam; the interlocking thread the spotless flesh of the Virgin. The weaver’s shuttle was propelled by the immeasurable grace of him who wore the robe; the artisan was the Word who entered in through her sense of hearing’ (Hom. .I, –). (Translation by Nicholas Constas, Proclus of Constantinople and the Cult of the Virgin in Late Antiquity [Leiden: Brill, ].) Livy, The Early History of Rome (Baltimore: Penguin, ) . Plutarch’s Moralia, vol. (LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ) –.
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
sitting home spinning’, Musonius Rufus responds that ‘the teachings of philosophy exhort the woman to be content with her lot and to work with her own hands’. In other words, study should lead women back to their spinning, since it will confirm that this is their proper place in the cosmos. Hierocles also confirms the conventional through unconventional means. He suggests that it is a useful exercise for married couples to dabble in the duties of the other, as a means to further solidify their partnership. But this task swap is not recommended for all; for certain men, there is a risk: Men who are very clean and neat in their appearance are not disposed to engage in spinning, since, for the most part, it is cheap little men and the tribe of those who are weak and effeminate who emulate female softness and lower themselves to working with wool. It is not seemly that a real man apply himself to such things. So, as for myself, I would perhaps not advise those who have not provided strong proof of their masculinity and selfcontrol to engage in any such occupation.
These literary references allude to women of status and means, as these women would be the ones who had the luxury of time to dabble in their husbands’ occupations, and to study philosophy. The primary value connected with spinning in these texts is that this action confirms the woman’s place within the home and within society. It is notable that even Aretaphila, who assumed a typically masculine, public role for a time, returned to her loom when the crisis had passed. A secondary and related virtue of the spinning wife—and one that would be especially valued among elite males—is that of busyness, in contrast to the stereotypical complaint that idle women are gossipers or, worse, distracted into some untoward activity. Although there is abundant evidence that women of elevated social status had a good deal of interaction with society outside the household domain, the ideal woman was persistently portrayed by a variety of ancient male writers as one who did not circulate in the public sphere; and even more ideally, her name would never be mentioned in public. R. Meir shares this view. He describes the ‘wicked man’ as one ‘who sees his wife go outside with her head uncovered . . . and she spins in public and bathes with men’ (t. Sot. .; y. Sot. ., a; b. Gitt. a). Plutarch
Musonius Rufus, Fragment That Women Too Should Study Philosophy, in Abraham J. Malherbe, Moral Exhortation: A Greco-Roman Sourcebook (Philadelphia: Westminster, ) . Hierocles, On Duties: Household Management (..), in Malherbe, Moral Exhortation, . Kathleen E. Corley summarizes this idealized notion of public and private in Private Women, Public Meals: Social Conflict in the Synoptic Tradition (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ) –. So noted by Tal Ilan, Jewish Women in Greco-Roman Palestine (Peabody, MA: Hendrikson, ) –.
Lilies Do Not Spin
warns the bride against speaking in public because one can suffer ‘exposure’ by revealing feeling and character. Cicero was a vocal advocate for the ‘proper’ matron in Greco-Roman society. In defense of Marcus Caelius, he excoriates Caelius’ estranged lover Clodia, whose public actions (attending dinner parties, walking amid crowds, inviting men into her home) and dress (bright colors or togas) mark her as a courtesan, according to Cicero. In contrast, a woman such as Claudia, whose focus was domestic, is lauded in a now-famous epitaph: Friend, I have not much to say; stop and read it. This tomb, which is not fair, is for a fair woman. Her parents gave her the name Claudia. She loved her husband in her heart. She bore two sons, one of whom she left on earth, the other beneath it. She was pleasant to talk with, and she walked with grace. She kept the house and worked in wool. That is all. You may go.
With notable emphasis upon her familial role and productivity at the loom, the inscription of a wife of an imperial slave from Lower Moesia survives: She was the patron-saint of my home, my hope and my life. Her wishes were mine; her dislikes mine. None of her secret thoughts was concealed from me. She was a busy spinner, economical, but generous to her husband. She did not delight in eating, save with me. She was a good counsellor, prudent and noble.
Wool-working was thus lauded as an antidote to common temptations for the wealthy Roman matron. Those women busy at their looms would escape idleness, which should only be enjoyed by morally superior males. Even within the unconventional Cynic society, Hipparchia (wife of the philosopher Crates) was subject to severe criticism when she adopted her husband’s lifestyle. She responds to her critic Theodorus: ‘[D]o you suppose that I have been ill advised . . . if instead of wasting further time upon the loom I spent it in education?’ Plutarch Advice to Bride and Groom, Moralia D (Plutarch’s Moralia, vol. [LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ] –). Pro Caelio –, – (Cicero: The Speeches [LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ] –, –). Anonymous inscription dated from the mid-second century BCE. (CIL ..) Eva Cantarella, Pandora’s Daughters: The Role and Status of Women in Greek and Roman Antiquity (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, ) –. Also noted in Corley, Private Women, . Ludwig Friedländer, Roman Life and Manners under the Early Empire (London: Routledge & Sons, ) . Noted in Corley, Private Women, . Pauline Schmitt Pantel, ed., A History of Women in the West, vol. (Cambridge, MA: Belknap, ) . Diogenes Laertius Lives of Eminent Philosophers . (LCL; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, ; .).
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
Propaganda promoting Roman elite women’s adherence to a private life at the loom came from Caesar Augustus himself, who boasted that his clothing came exclusively from the looms of women in his family, whose education, he proudly touted, included the ‘habit of working wool’ (Div. Augustus .; .). In fact, women’s virtue became so intertwined with spinning that the Latin word lanifica (‘wool-worker’) came to be applied to honorable women who did not make a living producing cloth. A well-preserved stele from Ostia, dated mid-first century CE, displays a family scene, with Blussus, Menimani, and their son. The father, a sailor, holds a bag of money, and Menimani holds a distaff and a ball of wool. The adjectives that appear most often on funerary inscriptions for women in this era confirm the impact that the idealized portrait of the domestically inclined wife had on society—lanifica, pia, pudica, casta, domiseda (wool-worker, faithful, modest, chaste, stay-at-home). But it is the highly symbolic display of spinning implements that some brides carried in the marriage ceremony that best captures the symbolic significance of spinning and weaving in the Roman imperial era. The honor associated with spinning for women whose advanced social class did not require manual labor is related to chastity and virtue. High-status women who spin are lauded for their adherence to traditional moral values. References to and symbols of the significance of spinning for non-elite women do exist, but, as one would expect, are less frequent than for elite women. These non-elite women are similarly lauded for their habits of spinning and weaving, but their situation was different. The archaeological evidence supports the view that women in the non-elite classes did not have the luxury to avoid the realm of business and trade in the Greco-Roman world. In contrast to wealthy women who may assume a public persona as a patron, non-elite women are depicted in steles working as shoemakers, barmaids, in butcher shops, and selling vegetables. Occasionally ancient authors took note of destitute women who supported themselves with spinning or weaving. As an occupation, cloth-working was viewed as a humble existence, yet Terence (Andria –) commends the woman who supports herself with weaving in contrast to the unattached woman who prostitutes herself for a living. Juvenal similarly viewed
Suetonius, The Deified Augustus Lives of the Caesars (Oxford: Oxford University, ) , . Also noted by Dixon, Reading Roman Women, . Dixon, Reading Roman Women, . Shown in Dixon, Reading Roman Women, (CIL .b). Cantarella, Pandora’s Daughters, . Dixon, Reading Roman Women, . See Dixon, Reading Roman Women, , on the ‘Public Face’ of Roman Women. Terence Andria – (Terence, The Comedies [London: Heinemann, ] ).
Lilies Do Not Spin
cloth-making as a humble, yet respectable, livelihood for a woman. Tobit .– refers to a Jewish woman earning wages by weaving. Even though rabbinic writings speak of the ideal wife as one who avoids the marketplace, a few of the rabbis’ judgments assume active public engagement by women. One example from the Niddah determines that the origin of blood spots on a woman’s garment might have been from a butcher’s market (t. Nidd. .); and in another example, a rabbi and his wife share a covering that she made. He wore it when he left the house to pray, and she when she went out to the market (b. Ned. b). These examples describe women from humble situations—the first must visit the butcher’s market herself, and the second must share her cloak with her husband. Eric Meyers’ archaeological work in Palestine confirms that the general size of homes during the Roman period—‘from – square meters, though most were on the smaller side’—did not allow a sequestered lifestyle for most women in the region. In light of Meyers’ work, the rabbis’ warnings against a woman who ‘spins in public’ (t. Sot. .; y. Sot. .; b. Gitt. a), ‘eats in public, drinks in public, nurses in public’ (b. Gitt. a) are likely challenges to common behavior among non-elite women. As Tal Ilan summarizes the evidence from the archaeological research on dwellings in Palestine, ‘it is evident that in Palestinian houses women’s quarters would have been a luxury which only rich families could afford. . . . [T]he moral requirement that men and women be separated was formulated by and for the well-established classes, who could in fact obey such a requirement’. Whether she could work in private or not, wool-working was one of the duties of a wife, according to the Mishnah (Ket. .). She may be excused from certain duties if she brings slave girls with her to the marriage. If she brings as many as three slave girls with her, she is excused from working in wool. But R. Eliezer objects: Even if the wife ‘brought him a hundred slave girls, he [the husband] forces her to work in wool, for idleness leads to unchastity’. Ket. . specifies a particular amount of warp or woof that the wife must spin. Juvenal Satires . (Juvenal and Persius [LCL; London: Heinemann, ] –). Noted by Dixon, Reading Roman Women, . Ilan, Jewish Women, . Eric M. Meyers, ‘The Problems of Gendered Space in Syro-Palestinian Domestic Architecture: The Case of Roman-Period Galilee’, Early Christian Families in Context: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue (ed. David L. Balch and Carolyn Osiek; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) . See also Yizhar Hirschfeld, The Palestinian Dwelling in the Roman-Byzantine Period (Jerusalem: Franciscan, ), whose archaeological work reveals that outdoor (nonsecluded) space was often employed for women’s work in homes over centuries in Palestine. Ilan, Jewish Women, –. Or, the rabbis’ intended audience is elite women who have the means to live a sequestered life, but are unwilling to do so. Ilan, Jewish Women, . Jacob Neusner, The Mishnah: A New Translation (New Haven: Yale University, ) .
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
Non-elite wives spin out of necessity; their work is honorable because it supplies something needed by their families. The fact that these women assume the ideal domestic role is secondary to their care for their families. The portrait of the ideal woman in Prov .– emphasizes her efforts on behalf of her family, including tireless work at the loom to clothe them. She ‘rises while it is still night and provides food for her household’ (v. ), ‘Her lamp does not go out at night’ (v. ), and she ‘does not eat the bread of idleness’ (v. ). Her prolific spinning talent is especially highlighted. ‘She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands’ (v. ), ‘She puts her hands to the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle’ (v. ), ‘She is not afraid for her household when it snows, for all her household are clothed in crimson. She makes herself coverings; her clothing is fine linen and purple’ (vv. –). However, the work of the ideal wife of Proverbs is not restricted to the household. The prominent public role that she occupies, along with her management role over her ‘servant girls’ (v. ), seemingly align her with elite matrons. She ‘seeks wool and flax’ (v. ), ‘brings her food from far away’ (v. ), ‘considers a field and buys it’ (v. ), and ‘makes linen garments and sells them; she supplies the merchant with sashes’ (v. ). Although her contacts extend well beyond the household, this woman is not publicly lauded like the wealthy matrons who served as benefactors in the Roman empire. Rather, the woman’s business savvy is exercised on behalf of her family and the poor (v. ), and her economic success serves to advance her husband’s position: he ‘will have no lack of gain’ (v. ) and ‘is known in the city gates’, where he sits among the elders (v. ). Although commonly dated to the Persian period (see Christine Roy Yoder, Wisdom as a Woman of Substance: A Socioeconomic Reading of Proverbs – and :– [BZAW; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, ] ), this praise poem in Proverbs shows a valuation of women who spin and weave that persists across cultures and centuries. Two issues that relate to the woman in Prov .– remain unresolved. First, it is not clear whether this portrait reflects actual or idealized women’s activity in the Persian period. ׁ )א: A Christine Yoder argues for the former in ‘The Woman of Substance (שת־חיל Socioeconomic Reading of Proverbs :–’, JBL () ; whereas Bernhard Lang (‘Women’s Work, Household and Property in Two Mediterranean Societies: A Comparative Essay on Proverbs XXXI –’, VT [] –) draws parallels and contrasts with the ideal Athenian wife depicted in Xenophon’s Oeconomicus, which may indicate less connection with actual activities and more of an idealized view of women’s lives. Secondly, there is some uncertainty about how to describe the socio-economic position of the woman. R. N. Whybray says these verses present a ‘well-to-do family, neither aristocratic nor royal’ (Proverbs [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ] ); and Yoder concludes that the woman is a ‘composite figure of Persian-period women, particularly women of affluence or position’ (‘Woman of Substance’, ). Lang (‘Women’s Work’, ) says, this Hebrew household ‘belongs to the elite that would produce and use only the best quality’. He notes ‘the use of scarlet and purple for dying cloth’ (vv. –). The wives of rabbis mentioned in rabbinic writings provide a parallel to the woman of Prov . These wives engage in business in order to support husbands or sons who devote themselves
Lilies Do Not Spin
The tireless efforts of the woman of Proverbs have advanced the family’s economic position. The male voice that praises the woman focuses upon her industry, her devotion to her family, and her economic success. Her skill and productivity in producing fabric and clothing are emphasized as proof of these qualities. Through her commercial acumen, her range of influence is extended, with the approval of her husband, the larger community, and the author(s) of the praise poem. The ideal woman of Proverbs fits the Greco-Roman philosophical ideal in that while spinning she avoids idleness and her focus is the domestic realm, but her honor also arises from her ability to provide clothing for market (v. ), which adds to the family’s well-being. The woman of Proverbs spins pragmatically, not just to conform to social expectations. Yet this poem is early evidence that productive spinning was a source of honor for Jewish women, including wives of elders and wives with servant girls (v. ).
. Conclusion
Poor women had to spin in order to clothe themselves and their families. This is not surprising in the context of ancient society. It is remarkable, however, that elite women, women who had servants that might do the work, were praised if they continued to spin and weave, and they might be censured if they did not. Such work was a significant aspect of the image of an honorable woman in the ancient Mediterranean world. This observation, and the evidence that supports it, should broaden our understanding of the range of impact of Matt .– and Luke .– in their ancient context. We indicated earlier that other Q traditions suggest that the words about the birds and lilies would have special relevance to the early followers of Jesus because of three problems: loss of livelihood because a family member has left home on mission, loss of livelihood because of local rejection and ostracism, and needs arising from the practice of radical charity. The resulting poverty would not only bring material insecurity but also loss of honor in society. The setting of Luke .– fits these concerns. According to Luke ., Jesus is addressing his disciples, people who have left home and are following him as he
to the study of the Torah (James Malcolm Arlandson, Women, Class, and Society in Early Christianity: Models from Luke–Acts [Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ] ). Babatha from Maoza, perhaps the best-documented female Jewish merchant, displays financial acumen similar to the woman of Prov , but she operates fairly independently of male oversight. See Ross Kraemer, Women’s Religions in the Greco-Roman World: A Sourcebook (Oxford: Oxford University, ) –. The overt purpose of Prov .– is to praise a capable wife, but the covert effect might be to encourage husbands to allow their wives to engage in commercial activity.
LEE A. JOHNSON AND ROBERT C. TANNEHILL
travels. Shortly before this (.–), Jesus warned his disciples about the fear and anxiety (μὴ μ1ριμνήσητ1, .; see .) that threatening opposition may cause. Following the words about the ravens and lilies, Jesus calls his disciples to practice radical charity (.–). The words about the ravens and lilies could address the anxious insecurity of persons in poverty or on the edge of poverty because of these circumstances and demands. However, these words could have a broader impact within the first-century context. Work for basic necessities of food and clothing was continuous with a quest for more and better food and clothing, including fine clothing that displays one’s elite status (Matt .; Luke .). So it was also appropriate that Matthew and Luke placed this teaching after broader warnings against seeking earthly treasures and serving mammon (Matt .–, ) or warnings against greed and being a rich fool (Luke .–), combining the birds and lilies with teaching that could address persons who were relatively secure and settled. Spinning, furthermore, had a special significance in the ancient image of an honorable woman. Spinning was valued not only for the product, useful clothing or perhaps fine clothing. The activity itself was valued as a sign that the woman was fulfilling her appropriate role in society. When early followers of Jesus were told that, because of God’s care and the call to the kingdom, they could be like the birds and the lilies, whose lives are not dominated by farming and spinning, they were offered a risky freedom that challenged the quest for security, the quest for wealth, and also the quest to be recognized as an honorable woman through performing an iconic female function in the family.
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000147
Abraham geschworen — uns gegeben. Syntax und Sinn im Benediktus (Lukas 1.68–79) F R I E D R I C H G U S TAV L AN G Eduard-Pfeiffer-Str. 22, 70192 Stuttgart, Germany. email:
[email protected]
The Benedictus is Luke’s own composition. Its syntax is perspicuous, provided that . is understood as zeugma and . as hyperbaton. It has three parts in + + double lines; their topics are eschatological (.–: messianic hopes), ecclesiological (.–: God’s covenant) and soteriological (.–: remission of sins). The oath sworn to Abraham and granted to ‘us’ (.) forms the centre. The hymn originates in Luke’s sophisticated theological reflection, his knowledge of LXX, and his literary skill which is confirmed by the stichometric proportions of the passage. Keywords: Benedictus, Luke and OT, John the Baptist, rhetoric, stichometry
Dass Lukas im Benediktus ein vorgeprägtes Traditionsstück übernommen habe, ist unter Exegeten fast Konsens. Unterschiedliche Meinungen gibt’s zu dessen Herkunft (jüdisch, täuferisch oder urchristlich?), zur Sprache (hebräisch/aramäisch oder griechisch?) und zum Umfang (.– als Einheit, mit redaktionellen Zusätzen oder zusammengesetzt aus zwei Stücken?). Doch Wolter in seinem neuen Kommentar hat dem grundsätzlich widersprochen. Wie das Magnifikat könne auch das Benediktus ‘nur auf der synchronen Textebene des lk Doppelwerks sinnvoll und methodisch kontrollierbar interpretiert werden’. Deutet sich hier ein Paradigmenwechsel an? Allerdings enthält Übersicht bei: M. Wolter, Das Lukasevangelium (HNT ; Tübingen: Mohr, ) –; S. Farris, The Hymns of Luke’s Infancy Narratives (JSNT.S ; Sheffield: JSOT, ) –. Auf eine Darstellung wird verzichtet; die unterschiedlichen Lösungen stellen sich gegenseitig infrage und lassen am Vorhandensein vorlukanischer Tradition eher zweifeln. Wolter, Lk, , vgl. . Ähnlich jüngst S. Vollenweider, ‘Hymnus, Enkomion oder Psalm? Schattengefechte der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft’, NTS () –, bes. : ‘Wie erfolgreich wäre ein erneuter Versuch, die beiden Hymnen als Dichtungen des Auctor ad Theophilum zu beschreiben? Man müsste zeigen können, dass sich das Sondervokabular der Psalmen-Mimesis des mit der Septuaginta so vertrauten Lukas verdankt’.
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
der Text etliche interpretatorische Schwierigkeiten, angefangen bei der Syntax der überlangen Satzperiode .–. Unter Voraussetzung lukanischer Komposition bedarf es einer überzeugenden Erklärung. Dazu werden zunächst die bisherigen Lösungen referiert. Danach wird an Schlüsselstellen und insgesamt eine neue Lösung zur Diskussion gestellt. . Lukas als Verfasser nach bisherigen Auslegungen
Nur einzelne Ausleger halten Zacharias’ Lied für einen Text des Lukas. Die Vorgänger, die Wolter anführt, stammen alle aus Deutschland, je zwei vom Anfang und vom Ende des . Jh.: A. von Harnack hat sich ausführlich zum Magnifikat geäußert: ‘Lucas … hat ein Stück geschaffen, das jeden Griechen mit dem Zauber der alttestamentlichen Sprache bestricken musste, ohne ihn durch zu starke Barbarismen oder Solöcismen abzustossen’ (). In einem Exkurs zum Benediktus bewundert er auch dort ‘die poetische Kunst’ (). Er gliedert es ‘in Strophen zu je Zeilen’, mit Zäsuren vor ., , und (). Zu jedem Vers notiert er ‘die alttestamentlichen Vorlagen und die Art ihrer Umbildung’, dazu die Parallelen bei Lukas selbst. Der syntaktische Anschluss von σωτηρίαν (.) bleibt unerörtert, doch beobachtet er dreimal (.–, –, ) dieselbe Konstruktion mit einem ‘Zwecksatz im Infinitiv ohne Artikel’ und ‘einem weiteren Zwecksatz’, der ‘durch ein dem Infinitiv vorangestelltes τοῦ’ markiert ist; Lukas zeige sich darin als ‘feiner Stilist’ (). Jeweils enthalte der zweite Infinitiv ‘den letzten Zweck der Ausführung’ (). Harnack fasst zusammen (): Lucas hat diese [beiden] Gesänge absichtlich in der Sprache der Psalmen und Propheten (LXX) gehalten: die Hebraismen … sind gewollte, der ganze Stil Kunststil, um einen alterthümlichen Eindruck zu erwecken. … Aber seinen eigentlichen Stil hat Lucas doch nicht ganz zu verbergen verstanden: die drei ersten Strophen des ‘Benedictus’ (v.–) sind nur äusserlich in die Form Zu englischsprachigen Vertretern vgl. Francis, Hymns, mit Anm. –, darunter: H. J. Cadbury, The Making of Luke–Acts (New York: Macmillan, ) –; J. M. Creed, The Gospel according to St. Luke (London: Macmillan, ) – (‘additional note’, Berufung auf Harnack); E. J. Tinsley, The Gospel according to Luke (CBC ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) ; J. Drury, Tradition and Design in Luke’s Gospel (London: Darton, ) –. Nicht einschlägig (gegen Wolter): J. Ernst, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (RNT; Regensburg: Pustet, . Aufl. ) : Vorsichtig abwägend vermutet er, dass der ‘Vf der lk Kindheitserzählungen’ liturgische Traditionen aus Täuferkreisen verarbeitet hat (ebenso ./ [.] Aufl. , ). A. [v.] Harnack, ‘Das Magnificat der Elisabet (Luc. ,–) nebst einigen Bemerkungen zu Luc. und ’, SPAW () –. Hervorhebungen original; zum Stil Verweis auf: E. Norden, Antike Kunstprosa (Leipzig/ Berlin: Teubner, ) .
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben des hebräischen Psalmstils gebracht; sieht man genauer zu, so stellen sie sich als eine einzige, complicirte, gut griechische Periode dar, die in das semitische Gewand lediglich eingezwängt ist: die Hände sind Esaus Hände, aber die Stimme ist Jacobs Stimme.
G. Erdmann, Jahre später, äußert sich nur knapp: Das Benediktus sei von Lukas ad hoc nach der Johannes-Legende geschaffen, anders als das Magnifikat, das er daraus übernommen habe (). Es verlaufe ‘nach den kurzen Anfangssätzen … in langgewundenen überladenen und sehr wenig durchsichtigen Satzgebilden’. Man sehe daran, ‘wie unbeholfen der Prosakünstler [Lk] auf dem Gebiet der Poesie war’; die Wortwahl erinnere vielfach ‘an den Hebräerbrief … und an Formulierungen des hellenistischen Christentums’ (). Der Inhalt ist weiter nicht kommentiert. Gattungsmäßig sei .– ein Genethliakon (Geburtstagsgedicht), der ‘Anredewechsel’ habe eine ‘genaue Analogie in der . Ekloge Vergils’ (). Für W. Schmithals, weitere Jahre später, stammen Benediktus und Magnifikat ‘einheitlich aus der Hand des Evangelisten’. Jeweils seien zwei Strophen chiastisch aufeinander bezogen: Die beiden äußeren beträfen das ‘christologische Geschehen’ (.– bzw. .–), die beiden inneren (.– bzw. .–) seien wie ein ‘eschatologisches Danklied’ gestaltet. Syntaktische Fragen werden nicht erörtert, denn (): Der Stil des Psalms ist archaisierend-feierlich und so gehalten, daß eine deutliche logische Zuordnung der Zeilen oft im Dunkeln bleibt. Das ist Absicht; Lukas geht es nicht vor allem um einzelne sachliche Aussagen des Liedes, sondern um die alttestamentliche Diktion als solche, und der Sinn dieser Imitation des Alten Testaments ist wie bei dem Magnificat die Verankerung von Person und Geschehen in der Tradition Israels.
Entsprechend handle die erste Strophe dezidiert vom Volk Israel, vom Haus Davids und vom Abrahamsbund. Sachgemäß folgt ein Exkurs zu ‘Lukas und das Alte Testament’ (–). Die zweite Strophe zeige, dass ‘Lukas die “Vergebung der Sünden” als den Inbegriff des christlichen Heils versteht’. Diese Erkenntnis zu vermitteln (nicht das Heil selbst) sei die ‘Aufgabe des Wegbereiters’ (). Auch K. Löning geht davon aus, dass im Benediktus ‘die syntaktischen Verknüpfungen zwischen den Sätzen, Teilsätzen und Satzteilen … sehr locker sind’ (). Er beachtet vor allem die thematischen Linien: Im ersten Teil (.– ) sieht er Zacharias als priesterlichen ‘Vermittler zwischen Gott und seinem G. Erdmann, Die Vorgeschichten des Lukas- und Matthäus-Evangeliums und Vergils vierte Ekloge (FRLANT ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, ). Mit Verweis auf T. Zahn, Das Evangelium des Lukas (KNT ; Leipzig: Deichert, ) . W. Schmithals, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (ZBK.NT /; Zürich: TVZ, ). K. Löning, Das Geschichtswerk des Lukas (Stuttgart u.a.: Kohlhammer, ).
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
Volk’, der Gottes erneute Zuwendung ansagt; durch die Propheten und den Eid an Abraham ist ‘Gott am Werk im Wort’ (). Zum zweiten Teil (.–) sind die Verbindungen zur Engelsrede (.–) aufgezeigt, mit der Elia-Typologie (Mal .–) im Hintergrund (–). Durchweg sei ‘die Hand des Theologen Lukas’ zu erkennen (); die Annahme einer ‘vorlukanischen Quelle’ behindre nur das Verständnis des lukanischen Doppelwerks (). Schließlich M. Wolter selbst: ‘Wie das Magnifikat ist auch das Benedictus collageartig aus sprachlichen Versatzstücken zusammengesetzt, die aus dem AT stammen’ (). Schon zu .– hat er erläutert (): Bei dieser Collage-Technik handelt es sich um ein literarisches Stilmittel, das für die Cento-Dichtung charakteristisch ist … Ihm kommt hier die Funktion zu, Maria in der kulturellen Tradition Israels zu verankern. Lukas erweist sich damit einmal mehr als ein Historiker, der sein Handwerk vorzüglich beherrscht, denn er lässt seine Erzählfigur, eine jüdische Jungfrau aus Galiläa, eben genau so reden, wie es Lukian v. Samosata verlangt: ‘der Person und der Lage möglichst angemessen’ (Hist. Conscr. ). … Lukas lässt sie … eine Deutung des erzählten Geschehens im Lichte der Erwählungsgeschichte Israels liefern, und er lässt sie dies mit den Worten tun, mit denen Israel schon immer das heilvolle Eingreifen Gottes zugunsten seines Volkes gepriesen hat.
Die sprachliche Gestalt des Benediktus unterscheide sich jedoch vom Magnifikat: Statt parataktischer Anordnung dominierten ‘hypotaktische Satzbaupläne’. Wie bei Harnack sind drei Einheiten abgeteilt, denen jeweils ‘dasselbe syntaktische Gerüst zugrunde’ liege, nämlich ‘die Verkettung von Verbum finitum + Infinitiv + ein mit τοῦ substantivierter Infinitivus finalis’: .–, –a, b–. Handelndes Subjekt sei erst Gott, dann das Kind, zuletzt die ἀνατολή; von Gottes Handeln werde im Aorist gesprochen, von den andern im Futur (). Außerdem sei ‘dominierender kohärenzstiftender Faktor’ hier ‘die . Person Plural’, also das Gottesvolk Israel, beim Magnifikat dagegen durchgängig Gott (). Im Kontext fungiere das Benediktus einerseits als ‘Antwort des Zacharias auf die ihm zuteil gewordene Geburtsankündigung’ (.–), andrerseits als Wolter, Lk, –. Vgl. R. E. Brown, The Birth of the Messiah [] (AncBRL; London: Chapman, ) , ; D. Schinkel, ‘Das Magnifikat Lk ,–—ein Hymnus in Harlekinsjacke?’, ZNW () –, bes. : ‘Dieses schulmäßig gelehrte, antike Stilmittel ist besonders geeignet, Texte, Motive und charakteristische Stilelemente zu verweben und in eine neue Textform zu gießen’. Die Cento-Technik, ursprünglich in Komödie und Parodie zu Hause, sei nach Ausonius (Cento nuptialis, ca. n.Chr.) eher Anlass, zu lachen als zu loben; Lk verwendet sie wertneutral zur ‘Kontinuitätsstiftung’ im ‘sprachlich-formalen Anschluß an die Schrift’, als spezielle Art von literarischer Mimesis ().—Jedoch, der Begriff wird sonst abwertend gebraucht, etwa auch more centonario (Tertullian Praescr. haer. .), was Schinkel nicht deutlich macht (). Gegen die Cento-Analogie jetzt auch: R. Simons, ‘The Magnificat: Cento, Psalm or Imitatio?’, TynB () –, bes. .
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
‘geisterfüllter, d.h. im Sinne Gottes authentischer Schlusskommentar’ zu Lk , bewusst ans Ende gestellt, damit die Leser die Ankündigung .– auf Jesu Geburt beziehen könnten (): Die Leser wissen … mehr als Zacharias, der hier in zwei Rollen auftritt: als Vater des Täufers und als Repräsentant der eschatologischen Heilshoffnungen Israels. In dieser Doppelfunktion lässt Lukas ihn die auf seinen Sohn bezogene Ankündigung in das mit Jesus verknüpfte Heilshandeln Gottes integrieren und einen prophetischen Ausblick auf die zukünftige Bedeutung der beiden Heilsgestalten—des eschatischen Propheten und des Messiaskönigs—geben.
Anders als das Etikett ‘Collage’ oder ‘Cento’ (eigentlich: zusammengestupfeltes Flickwerk) erwarten lässt, erhält das Benediktus damit einen präzisen Sinn. Aber im einzelnen bleibt manche syntaktische Frage offen, und formal ist unbefriedigend, dass Wolters erster Teil umfangmäßig weit größer ist als die beiden anderen zusammen. Wenn Lukas der ‘feine Stilist’ ist, für den ihn Harnack hält, wird er auch hier nicht geschludert haben! Auch N. Neumanns Arbeit, inzwischen erschienen, setzt methodisch ‘bei der vorliegenden Gestalt des Bibeltextes’ an; ‘unter synchroner Perspektive’ sind traditionsgeschichtliche Fragestellungen ausgeblendet (). Der typische Wechsel zwischen Prosa und Vers in Lk – habe Parallelen in der menippeischen Literatur, ebenso die Cento-Technik (–: Beispiele aus Lukian). Lukas schreibe zwar keine ‘Satire’ ( Anm. ), doch würde die ‘ideale Leserschaft’ die vielen ‘Zitate und Anspielungen’ vermutlich erkennen, was den ‘Unterhaltungswert’ erhöhe (). Das Benediktus habe ‘ Sequenzen’ () und werde ‘höchstwahrscheinlich insgesamt als versförmig’ empfunden (). Inhaltlich würden die ‘Lesenden’ bei λύτρωσις und σωτηρία (.–) an eine politische Erlösung denken, nämlich dass ‘Gott dem Volk Israel militärisch zu Hilfe kommt’ (). Deshalb sei ‘Sündenvergebung’ (.) nicht epexegetisch als Heil selbst, sondern ‘als das ermöglichende Instrument zu interpretieren, das die σωτηρία überhaupt erst herbeiführen kann’ (). Jedoch: Darf ein (unterstelltes) Vorverständnis der Adressaten Leitlinie sein für die Botschaft des Evangelisten? . Syntaktische Schlüsselprobleme
Der Anfang ist syntaktisch durchsichtig: Auf die Anrufung Gottes im Nominalsatz (.a) folgt ein begründender ὅτι-Satz mit drei parataktisch N. Neumann, Lukas und Menippos. Hoheit und Niedrigkeit in Lk ,–, und in der menippeischen Literatur (NTOA ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, ). Ähnlich M. Coleridge, The Birth of the Lukan Narrative (JSNT.S ; Sheffield: JSOT, ): ‘narrative criticism’s assumption of textual unity’ (); Messias-Verständnis .–: ‘in terms of military power and victory’ (), andrerseits . ‘reinterpretation’: ‘the real enemy is … sin’ ().
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
angeordneten finiten Verben (.b–) und davon abhängig der καθώςSatz (.), der das geschilderte Gotteshandeln auf die prophetischen Ankündigungen zurückführt. Schwierig ist danach die Zuordnung der Akkusative σωτηρίαν (.) und ὅρκον (.) sowie der vier Infinitive (.– ). Ebenso ist Syntax und Logik der Infinitivkonstruktionen .– zu erörtern. .. Das Akkusativobjekt ‘Rettung vor unseren Feinden’ (.) Die Klausel σωτηρίαν ἐξ ἐχθρῶν ἡμῶν καὶ ἐκ χειρὸς πάντων τῶν μισούντων ἡμᾶς (.) wird allgemein auf das Vorherige bezogen. Entweder man versteht sie mit rhetorischer Kategorie als Anaphora, als variierende Wiederholung von κέρας σωτηρίας (.) oder, syntaktisch gesprochen, als Apposition zu .–, d.h. mit ἐποίησεν λύτρωσιν (.) als hauptsächlichem Bezugspunkt, woran sich σωτηρίαν nach Kasus und Aussage gut anschließt. Bei beiden Lösungen wird . oder .– zur Parenthese und traditionsgeschichtlich meist der lukanischen Redaktion zugewiesen. Dieser Konsequenz entgeht die Lösung von Zahn, für den . den Inhalt der prophetischen Verkündigung enthält, ‘als eine Apposition zu dem ganzen Satz von v.’. Die Bezugnahme auf das seit alters gesprochene Gotteswort bekommt dadurch eigenes Gewicht. Ebenso bildet sie im Magnifikat (.) den rekapitulierenden Abschluss (καθὼς ἐλάλησεν πρὸς τοὺς πατέρας ἡμῶν), und in der Petrusrede Apg . leitet sie den Schriftbeweis ein (wörtlich wie Lk Vgl. H. Lausberg, Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik (München: Hueber, . Aufl. ) §§ –. Vgl. J. A. Bengel, Gnomon Novi Testamenti (Tübingen: Schramm, ) zSt; H. A. W. Meyer, Kritisch exegetisches Handbuch über die Evangelien des Markus und Lukas (KEK I/; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, . Aufl. ) ; H. Klein, Das Lukasevangelium (KEK I/; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, ./. Aufl. ) Anm. . Vgl. R. Kühner / B. Gerth, Ausführliche Grammatik der griechischen Sprache II/– (Hannover/ Leipzig: Hahn, . Aufl. /) , ,: u.U. ‘durch andere Worte … getrennt’ vom zu bestimmenden Wort; ,: als Apposition ‘zu einem ganzen Satze oder zu mehreren Worten’ zuweilen ‘im Akkusativ, gleichviel welcher Kasus vorangehe, wenn die Apposition ein Bewirktes, ein Ergebnis, eine Folge, Bestimmung oder Absicht … bezeichnet’. Vgl. W. Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (ThHK ; Berlin: EVA, . Aufl. ) ; W. Wiefel, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (ThHK ; Berlin: EVA, [.]/. Aufl. ) ; F. Bovon, Das Evangelium nach Lukas I (EKK /; Zürich/Braunschweig: Benziger / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, ) . Vgl. z.B. T. Kaut, Befreier und befreites Volk. Traditions- und redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zu Magnifikat und Benediktus (BBB ; Frankfurt a.M.: Hain, ) ; Wolter, Lk, . Vgl. z.B. U. Mittmann-Richert, Magnifikat und Benediktus (WUNT /; Tübingen: Mohr, ), . Zahn, Lk, ; aber ausdrücklich nicht ‘als ein nachhinkendes Objekt zu ἐλάλησεν, das kein Leser mehr erwartet’. Ähnlich E. Klostermann, Das Lukasevangelium (HNT ; Tübingen: Mohr, . Aufl. ) .
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
.: πάντων ὧν ἐλάλησεν ὁ θεὸς διὰ στόματος τῶν ἁγίων ἀπ᾿ αἰῶνος αὐτοῦ προϕητῶν). Auch sonst bezieht sich Lukas an entscheidenden Stellen auf das, was Gott durch seine Propheten gesprochen hat, z.B. Lk . (Emmaus-Jünger); Apg . (Schlusswort des Paulus in Rom). Entsprechend lässt sich . als Zusammenfassung verstehen, die den Teil .– abschließt und danach inhaltlich ausgeführt wird (.–), und zwar sachgemäß in einer von biblischen Wendungen durchtränkten Sprache. Wie ist dann σωτηρίαν κτλ syntaktisch einzuordnen? Der Akkusativ, sonst (sofern Apposition) mit ἐποίησεν (.) verbunden, kann sich syntaktisch und semantisch ebensogut auf ποιῆσαι (.) beziehen. Allerdings wurde das bisher nirgends erwogen, denn dort steht schon das Objekt ἔλεος. Dabei ist dies geradezu ein Schulbeispiel für die rhetorische Figur eines Zeugma (Klammer): Das ‘Teil-Glied’ ποιῆσαι, das den beiden ‘koordinierten Gliedern [hier AkkusativObjekten] in gleicher Weise zugeordnet ist und eigentlich zu jedem Glied besonders zu setzen wäre’, wird nur einmal gesetzt, hier in der Mitte, und bildet die Klammer zwischen beiden. Damit lassen sich die beiden parallelen Infinitive . unmittelbar auf . beziehen. Sie sind nicht, angeschlossen an σωτηρίαν (.), als Infinitive des Zwecks oder der Folge zu verstehen, auch nicht ‘den drei Prädikaten VV b. direkt untergeordnet’. Vielmehr führen sie aus, abhängig vom verbum dicendi ἐλάλησεν, was Gott einst angekündigt hat und jetzt durch seinen ‘Besuch’ erfüllt. Hätte Lukas schon . infinitivisch mit σῶσαι angeschlossen, wäre die Satzkonstruktion durchsichtiger. Aber er stellt mit Bedacht das Schlüsselwort σωτηρία an den Anfang. Zugleich zeigt er (wie im Proömium .–), dass er mit rhetorischen Figuren umzugehen weiß, in diesem poetischen Text sogar mit solcher Kühnheit, dass die perspicuitas darunter leidet. .. Der ‘Eid, dem Abraham geschworen’ (.) als Hyperbaton Fast ausnahmslos wird die Akkusativklausel ὅρκον ὃν ὤμοσεν πρὸς Ἀβραὰμ τὸν πατέρα ἡμῶν (.) auf μνησθῆναι (.) bezogen. Allerdings ist
Lausberg, Handbuch, § (‘Komplikationsloses Zeugma’), vgl. Quintilian Inst. , , –. Vgl. Meyer, Lk, ; ähnlich Zahn, Lk, (Zweck); Klein, Lk, Anm. (Folge). Kaut, Befreier, . Vgl. D. Erasmus, Novum Testamentum omne (Basel: Froben, . Aufl. ) : .– insgesamt syntaktisch abhängig von ., σωτηρίαν unmittelbar als Akkusativ-Objekt, aber mit Nebensatz übersetzt wie die folgenden Infinitive: Sicut locutus est per os … prophetarum suorum, Fore ut seruaremur …: Vt uteretur misericordia … In den Annotationes der . Aufl. () wird dieses Verständnis begründet; vgl. S. V. Frech, Magnificat und Benedictus Deutsch. Martin Luthers bibelhumanistische Übersetzung in der Rezeption des Erasmus von Rotterdam (Zürcher germanistische Studien ; Bern u.a.: Lang, ) –. Vgl. Ψ .: καὶ ἔσωσεν αὐτοὺς ἐκ χειρὸς μισούντων. Zum paulinischen Schlüsselbegriff (mal im Benediktus) vgl. .; Apg .; .; . (Fehlanzeige in Mt und Mk!).
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
das Verbum dort mit dem Genitiv konstruiert, entsprechend der geprägten LXXWendung, dass Gott seines Bundes gedenkt, den er mit den Erzvätern geschlossen hat. Deshalb wird allgemein eine attractio inversa vorausgesetzt: ‘Wenn das Bezugsnomen … voransteht, assimiliert es sich bisweilen dem ihm folgenden Relativum’; aber während sonst der Hauptsatz nach dem Relativsatz weitergeht, sei hier das Bezugswort ὅρκον eine ‘eigentümlich’ an den Genitiv διαθήκης ἁγίας αὐτοῦ ‘angehängte Ausführung’, erklärlich als ‘stark hebraisierende Stelle’. Die Schwierigkeit dieser Lösung ist nicht zu übersehen. Nach Kühner-Gerth tritt die Attraktion ‘am häufigsten’ ein, wenn das betreffende Substantiv ‘im Nominative oder Akkusative stehen sollte’; ‘nur selten’ finde sie sich beim Dativ, und dann könnte auch eine rhetorisch veranlasste ‘Umstellung’ vorliegen; der Genitiv bleibt unerwähnt. Bovon sieht die ‘ungewöhnliche Angleichung des Beziehungswortes an das Relativpronomen’; vielleicht richte sich ὅρκον nach σωτηρίαν (.). Jedenfalls: ‘Die Syntax ist weniger eindrucksvoll als der Gedankengang’. Die attractio-Lösung hat auch Konsequenzen fürs folgende. Mit der Klausel τοῦ δοῦναι ἡμῖν beginnt dann ein neuer syntaktischer Zusammenhang. Hart ist dabei das Nebeneinander von Dativ ἡμῖν, abhängig von δοῦναι, und Akkusativ ῥυσθέντας, ebenfalls ‘uns’ betreffend, aber mit λατρεύειν zur AcIKonstruktion verbunden. Sodann wird der Infinitiv λατρεύειν αὐτῷ (.) zum Objekt des Gebens, der ‘Gottesdienst in Heiligkeit und Gerechtigkeit’ also zur Gottesgabe. Aber die Klausel ἀϕόβως ἐκ χειρὸς ἐχθρῶν ῥυσθέντας für sich enthält ebenfalls, was Gott gegeben hat, also den Indikativ; den Geretteten ist ihrerseits das λατρεύειν aufgegeben, als Imperativ. Ist auch das λατρεύειν gottgegeben, so wird die Unterscheidung zwischen Gottes Tun und menschlichem Handeln verwischt. Dass man das Satzgebilde auch anders auflösen kann, zeigt die Verseinteilung, wonach τοῦ δοῦναι ἡμῖν zu . gezogen ist. Sie stammt im NT erst von , entspricht hier aber der traditionellen Aufteilung im Stundengebet, d.h. in der
Vgl. O. Michel, ‘μιμνῄσκομαι’, ThWNT () –, hier ,–. Auch Akk. wäre möglich; vgl. H. G. Liddell / R. Scott / H. S. Jones, A Greek–English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon, /) s.v.: ‘s[ome]t[ime]s c. acc. … more freq[uently] c. gen.’ Vgl. schon Bengel, Gnomon, zSt. F. Blass / A. Debrunner / F. Rehkopf, Grammatik des neutestamentlichen Griechisch (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, . Aufl. ) § mit Anm. . Kühner–Gerth, Grammatik , – (von Blass–Debrunner angeführt, ohne die KasusProblematik zu erwähnen). Bovon, Lk, mit Anm. . Vgl. Bovon, Lk, : ‘anstößig’; Mittmann-Richert, Magnificat, : ‘keinem griechisch schreibenden Autor zuzutrauen’, Indiz für hebräisches Original! Vgl. W. Schmitz, ‘Stephanus (Estienne)’, RGG () .
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
Vulgata. Sie hat sich auch in Luthers Original-Übersetzung niedergeschlagen: ‘Vnd an den Eid, den er geschworen hat vnserm vater Abraham, Vns zu geben’. Dabei ist ὅρκον implizit auch Objekt von δοῦναι: Inhalt des Schwurs von einst ist seine Weitergabe an uns heute. Schon Erasmus hat dieses Verständnis kritisiert: Wegen der Länge des Satzes habe man für den Chorgesang eine feierliche Zäsur gesetzt, weshalb die meisten den richtigen Sinn nicht erfassen würden. Er übersetzt ac daret nobis ut … (‘und er werde uns geben, dass’) und beginnt einen neuen Gedanken, erneut von locutus est (.) abhängig. In der Vulgata ist es dagegen eine AcI-Konstruktion, abhängig von iuravit, wobei esse und iusiurandum als Objekt zu ergänzen sind: daturum se nobis (‘geschworen, dass er uns den Eid geben werde’). Erasmus hat erkannt, dass das griechische Original diesen Sinn nicht hergibt. Der substantivierte Infinitiv mit Genitiv-Artikel kann nicht von einem verbum dicendi (in diesem Fall ὤμοσεν) abhängen. Vielmehr gilt, und das spricht auch gegen Erasmus’ eigene Übersetzung: ‘Als nähere Bestimmung eines ganzen Satzes’ bezeichnet τοῦ mit Infinitiv einen ‘Zweck’, eine ‘Absicht’. Trotzdem kann man den Eid als Objekt des Gebens verstehen, nämlich aufgrund Kühner-Gerths Hinweis, dass statt einer attractio inversa auch die rhetorische Figur einer Umstellung vorliegen könne, genauer: eines Hyperbaton. Darunter versteht man ‘die Trennung zweier syntaktisch eng zusammengehörender Wörter durch die Zwischenschaltung eines unmittelbar nicht an diese Stelle gehörigen (einoder mehrwortigen) Satzgliedes’. Vorausgesetzt, der Vers . bildet eine syntaktische Einheit, so wäre die ‘gewöhnliche Stellung’: τοῦ δοῦναι ἡμῖν ὅρκον ὃν ὤμοσεν κτλ. Die zusammengehörigen Glieder ἡμῖν ὅρκον κτλ sind dann durch Umstellung getrennt, τοῦ δοῦναι ist dazwischen geschoben. Lukas hat damit kunstgerecht seine Akzente gesetzt: ‘Wenn in Einem Satze zwei Wörter durch die Stellung hervorgehoben werden sollen, so tritt das eine an die Spitze des Satzes, während das andere die letzte Stelle einnimmt’. So verstanden bildet auch . einen M. Luther, WA.DB () . Vgl. Frech, Magnificat, –: Rückbeziehung auf den Eid als naheliegendes Verständnis von Luthers Übersetzung; doch könne auch der folgende Infinitiv die Gabe bezeichnen. Erasmus, NT, Einleitung , Text ; vgl. ders., In Novum Testamentum … Annotationes (Basel: Froben, ) . Auch als als NcI wurde übersetzt, vgl. Frech, Magnificat, : Mentel (‘er schwuor … sich selber uns zegeben’); : ähnlich Luthers Benedictus-Predigt . Kühner–Gerth, Grammatik , ; dazu : ‘Von einer Folge wird dieser Genitiv nicht gebraucht’; anders Blass–Debrunner, Grammatik, § , mit Anm. : ‘oft … konsekutiver Sinn nur noch sehr schwach’, etwa .. Lausberg, Handbuch, § , S. . Kühner–Gerth, Grammatik , : ‘In der Regel (wird) … der Dativ dem Akkusative … vorangehen’. Kühner–Gerth, Grammatik , –.
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
Parallelismus membrorum: ‘Um den Eid, den er Abraham geschworen hat … / um den uns zu geben’. Der folgende Infinitiv (.–) erhält dann finalen Sinn: ‘damit wir ihm dienen …’ Inhaltlich geht es um die Gültigkeit des Eides von einst für die gegenwärtige Generation. Schon Isaak wurde das Weiterbestehen der Abrahamverheißung zugesichert, wörtlich fast ebenso: ‘Dir und deinen Nachkommen will ich alle diese Länder geben und will meinen Eid wahr machen, den ich deinem Vater Abraham geschworen habe’ (Gen .: καὶ στήσω τὸν ὅρκον ὃν ὤμοσα Αβρααμ τῷ πατρί σου). So gibt der Vers einen guten Sinn. Andrerseits ist zuzugeben, dass die Voranstellung des Objekts vor den substantivierten Infinitiv die perspicuitas gefährdet, weshalb die Konstruktion allenthalben verkannt wurde. Doch besteht diese Gefahr grundsätzlich bei einem Hyperbaton wie auch bei anderen Abweichungen vom regulären Satzbau. Um die Aussage zu unterstreichen, sind sie dennoch erlaubt. Lukas, bei dem man rhetorische Schulung voraussetzen darf, liebt derartige Stilmittel. Bei einem poetischen Text hat er überdies größere Freiheit, so kann er die umgestellten Satzglieder besonders weit auseinander reißen. .. Die Satzkonstruktion in .– Die Syntax ab . ist zunächst unproblematisch. Zacharias redet seinen kleinen Sohn an und prophezeit ihm seine künftige Funktion als ‘Prophet des Höchsten’. Die folgende Begründung (.b) rekapituliert nahezu wörtlich die Ankündigung .: ‘vorangehen vor dem Herrn’ als Verbum finitum, davon abhängig der finale Infinitiv ‘zu bereiten seine Wege’ bzw. ‘dem Herrn ein zugerüstetes Volk’. Das Weitere scheint sich syntaktisch daran anzuschließen: an ἑτοιμάσαι als Zweckbestimmung der substantivierte Infinitiv τοῦ δοῦναι γνῶσιν σωτηρίας (.), daran die kausale Bestimmung διὰ σπλάγχνα ἐλέους (.a), daran der erläuternde Relativsatz ἐν οἷς ἐπισκέψεται (.b), an dessen Subjekt ἀνατολή der wiederum finale Infinitiv ἐπιϕᾶναι (.a) und Vgl. Lausberg, Handbuch, § : ‘Diese Änderungen (des Satzbaues) sind grundsätzlich als vitia gegen die perspicuitas anzusehen’; ähnlich § , S. . Vgl. Apg .: οὐ μόνον Ἐϕέσου ἀλλὰ σχεδὸν πάσης τῆς Ἀσίας ὁ Παῦλος οὗτος πείσας μετέστησεν ἱκανὸν ὄχλον; nach Blass–Debrunner, Grammatik, § Anm. , ist der Genitiv (wenn nicht lokal, was Latinismus wäre) von ὄχλον abhängig, also Hyperbaton: ‘nicht nur von Ephesus, sondern fast von ganz Asia beredet und verführt dieser Paulus viel Volk’; vgl. C. K. Barrett, The Acts of the Apostles II (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) ; E. Haenchen, Die Apostelgeschichte (KEK ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, . Aufl. ) Anm. : ‘typisch lukanischer Stil der Voranstellung des Betonten’.—Ebenso m.E. Apg .: ὁ τοῦ πατρὸς ἡμῶν διὰ πνεύματος ἁγίου στόματος Δαυὶδ παιδός σου εἰπών; die überladene Partizipialkonstruktion ist textlich umstritten (vgl. B. M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament [Stuttgart: UBS, . Aufl. ] –), aber als Hyperbaton einwandfrei aufzulösen: ‘der du durch des heiligen Geistes Mund, unsern Vater David, deinen Diener, gesagt hast’ (πατρός und παιδός betont kontrastiert).
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
daran schließlich τοῦ κατευθῦναι, nochmals ein substantivierter Infinitiv mit finalem Sinn (.b). Von zwei Seiten wurde vorgeschlagen, die Satzkonstruktion anders aufzulösen. Vielhauer hält es für ‘sehr wahrscheinlich’, dass die beiden Infinitive τοῦ δοῦναι (.) und τοῦ κατευθῦναι (.b) koordiniert und dem Infinitiv ἑτοιμάσαι (.b) subordiniert sind; dadurch entgehe man der ‘Unförmigkeit des Satzgebildes, das bei der Subordination von v.b unter a keinen rechten Abschluß findet’, .–a sei ‘gewissermaßen eine Parenthese’. Anders Wolter: Der Subjektwechsel von σύ zu ἀνατολή spreche dafür, .b–b als eigenen dritten Teil zu verstehen. Beide Lösungen sind sprachlich möglich, keine ist zwingend. Zunächst spricht formal gegen beide: Wenn das Benediktus insgesamt ein poetischer Text ist, durchgängig aus parallelen Doppelzeilen gebaut, dann sollte man die beiden Vershälften von . oder . nicht trennen. Letztlich entscheidet eine theologische Frage über die Syntax: Gibt der Täufer in eigener Vollmacht ‘Heilserkenntnis’? Oder bedarf die soteriologische Aussage . einer christologischen Begründung, so dass .–, entsprechend ausgelegt, eng damit zu verbinden ist? Nun ist der Ausdruck ἀνατολὴ ἐξ ὕψους (.b) umstritten. Vielhauer identifiziert ihn mit προϕήτης ὑψίστου (.a), d.h. Johannes; der sei selbst ‘eine “messianische” Gestalt’, das Benediktus stamme ‘aus der Täufersekte’. Wolter dagegen deutet gerade nicht messianisch: ‘Referentiell verweist ἀνατολή auf die Sendung Jesu, signifikativ bezeichnet der Begriff das von Gott her kommende Heil, und traditionsgeschichtlich angeknüpft wird an alttestamentlich-jüdische Lichtmetaphorik’. Jedoch: ἀνατολή (Sach .; .) ist eindeutig messianischer Titel, zwar Übersetzung von ‘Spross’ ( ) צמחzur Bezeichnung davidischer Herkunft (Jer .), aber das LXX-Wort bedeutet auch ‘Aufgang’ ( ) מזרחder Sonne. Lukas kann den griechischen Begriff, wohl ohne Kenntnis der hebräischen Äquivalente, als Messiastitel und Morgenglanz zugleich verstehen und dann die Lichtmetapher weiterführen (.a). Aber für ihn ist allein Jesus der Messias. Also hat der Abschnitt .– implizit das Verhältnis von Johannes und Jesus zum Thema und bildet darin eine Einheit.
P. Vielhauer, ‘Das Benedictus des Zacharias (Lk ,–)’, Aufsätze zum NT (TB ; München: Kaiser, ) –, bes. . Vgl. Wolter, Lk, . Vgl. J. Kasteren, ‘Analecta exegetica. Luc. ,s’., RB () –: ipse Dominus deshalb als Sinnsubjekt von δοῦναι! Vielhauer, Benedictus, –. Wolter, Lk, : gegen die ‘meisten neueren Kommentare’. Vgl. H. Schlier, ‘ἀνατέλλω κτλ’, ThWNT () , mit Berufung auf ‘das Verständnis von Sach , bei Justin und Melito’.
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
. Kolometrische Gliederung in Doppelzeilen
Aufgrund dieser Vorentscheidungen kann der Text als ganzer analysiert werden, zunächst seine formale Gliederung und poetische Gestalt. Nach der Eulogie (.–) bildet .– einen eigenen Teil. Die Verse davor (.– ), syntaktisch von . abhängig, beschreiben, was Gott versprochen hat, sind also als Unterteil für sich zu nehmen, nach einem Doppelpunkt sozusagen. Außerdem imitiert Lukas die Sprache der Psalmen. Deren Kennzeichen ist der Parallelismus membrorum, und so lassen sich die drei Teile in Doppelzeilen abteilen ( + + ). Sie haben fast alle, offenkundig oder versteckt, korrespondierende Glieder. .: Israel / Volk; .: Horn des Heils / Haus Davids (messianische Begriffe); .: gesprochen / Mund der Propheten; .: Feinde / Hassende; .: Erbarmen / Bund; .: Abraham geschworen / uns gegeben; .: gerettet / dienen (Gegenseitigkeit des Bundes); .a: Kind / Prophet; .b: vorangehen / Wege bereiten; .: Heilserkenntnis / Sündenvergebung; .: Erbarmen Gottes / Morgenglanz von oben; .: Todesschatten / Friedensweg. Die folgende Übersetzung ist kolometrisch in Sinnzeilen angeordnet und versucht, die syntaktische Struktur nachzuzeichnen: Gelobt sei [der Herr,] der Gott Israels! Denn er hat besucht und Erlösung bewirkt seinem Volk und hat aufgerichtet das Horn des Heils für uns im Hause Davids, seines Dieners, gleichwie er gesprochen hat durch den Mund seiner heiligen Propheten aus Urzeiten: Dass er Rettung vor unsern Feinden und aus der Hand aller, die uns hassen, dass er Erbarmen wirke (wie) an unsern Vätern und gedenke seines heiligen Bundes, um den Eid, den er geschworen hat Abraham, unserm Vater, um den zu geben uns, damit wir furchtlos, weil aus der Feinde Hand errettet, ihm treu ergeben seien in Heiligkeit und Gerechtigkeit vor seinen Augen an allen unsern Tagen. Auch du aber, mein Kind, Prophet des Höchsten wirst du genannt werden; denn du wirst vorangehen vor dem Herrn, zu bereiten seine Wege, Anders H. Gunkel, ‘Die Lieder in der Kindheitsgeschichte bei Lk’, Festgabe von Fachgenossen und Freunden (Harnack-FS; Tübingen: Mohr, ) –, bes. : Gattung ‘eschatologischer Hymnus’ (erübrigt sich bei lukanischer Verfasserschaft). Zur Textkritik s.u. Anm. .
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben um zu geben Erkenntnis des Heils seinem Volk in der Vergebung ihrer Sünden, dank der Herzlichkeit des Erbarmens unsres Gottes, durch die uns besuchen wird der Morgenglanz von hoch oben, damit er aufscheine denen, die in Finsternis und Todesschatten sitzen, um auszurichten unsre Füße auf den Weg des Friedens.
Vielfach wurden achsensymmetrische Entsprechungen beobachtet, die auf eine sorgfältig gestaltete Ringkomposition hindeuten, insbesondere von französischen Exegeten. Ihre differenzierten Analysen zu Teilabschnitten unterschiedlichen Umfangs können außer Betracht bleiben, weil sie (abgesehen von .–) von den hier vorausgesetzten drei Teilen abweichen. Für den ganzen Text setzen sie zwischen ./ eine Schnittlinie, an der sich bis zu elf Elemente spiegeln. Nach obiger Gliederung, mit . als mittlerer Doppelzeile des mittleren Teils, sind sechs Elemente in konzentrischer Anordnung begrifflich identisch: ἐπεσκέψατο / ἐπισκέψεται (.b/b), τῷ λαῷ αὐτοῦ (.b/a), σωτηρίας (.a/a), προϕητῶν / προϕήτης (.b/a), ἐχθρῶν (.a/a) und ἐκ χειρός (.b/a). Vier Elemente sind Entsprechungen zwischen erstem und drittem Teil, zwei innerhalb des mittleren Teils. Weitere Entsprechungen sind bemerkenswert: am Schluss der beiden ersten Teile die Zeitangabe ‘aus Urzeiten’ bzw. ‘an allen unsern Tagen’ (./); in den mittleren Doppelzeilen jeweils das ‘Heil’ (.a/a), das ‘uns’ (.a/b) ‘gegeben’ wird (.b/a); und in Teil und die Ersatzbegriffe (Metonyme) κέρας σωτηρίας und ἀνατολή (./), die insgeheim vom Messias reden. Dies alles zeigt, wie sorgfältig Lukas seinen Text formuliert hat. Was ist sein theologisches Ziel? . Die Botschaft des Benediktus
Das Benediktus ist auf doppelte Weise hervorgehoben: Es wird feierlich eingeführt als vom Heiligen Geist eingegebene ‘Prophezeiung’ (.), ähnlich wie Elisabeths Gruß an Maria (.) und Simeons Nunc dimittis (.), aber im Unterschied zu Marias Magnifikat (.). Und es ist auffällig platziert, nicht innerhalb der Erzählung, wo Zacharias, kaum kann er wieder reden, Gott lobt (.), sondern nachklappend als Abschluss der Zachariasgeschichte (.–), unmittelbar vor der Messiasgeburt (.–). An dieser Nahtstelle und nach dieser Einleitung soll Vgl. A. Vanhoye, ‘Structure du “Benedictus”’, NTS (/) –, bes. ; P. Auffret, ‘Note sur la structure littéraire de Lc I. –’, NTS (/) –, bes. (.b– als ‘un centre’); F. Rousseau, ‘Les structures du Benedictus (Luc .–)’, NTS () –, bes. ; P. Auffret, ‘Nouvelle étude structurelle du Benedictus’, BN () – , bes. . Ähnlich: R. Meynet, L’ Évangile de Luc (Rhétorique sémitique ; Paris: Lethiellieux, ) , : .–a als ‘morceau central’ von .–; . von .–. Nicht berücksichtigt, weil nur ähnlich: z.B. σωτηρίαν / ῥυσθέντας (.a/a).
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
es nicht nur jüdisch-frommes Milieu vor Augen malen. Vielmehr darf man von Zacharias eine Botschaft erwarten, die Lukas seinen Lesern sagen will. .. Messianische Zeitansage (.–) Vielerlei Verweisstellen aus AT und zeitgenössischem Judentum hat man dazu aufgelistet. Unter Voraussetzung lukanischer Autorschaft ist speziell die LXX einschlägig. Die Durchsicht ergibt, dass Motive aus der Davidstradition vorherrschen, sogar beim formelhaften Lobpreis: Εὐλογητὸς κύριος ὁ θεὸς τοῦ Ἰσραήλ (.a). Er ist (ohne τοῦ, sonst wörtlich) achtmal belegt: fünfmal als Anfangssatz, und zwar im Munde Davids ( Βασ .: Dank an Abigail; Βασ .: Salomos Inthronisation) und Salomos ( Βασ . = Chr .: Tempelweihe) sowie im Brief König Hirams an Salomo ( Chr .: Tempelbau); dreimal steht die Doxologie am Ende eines Buchs im Psalter, und zwar explizit (Ψ .) oder indirekt in Davidspsalmen (.; .). Sodann verweist . vor allem auf Ψ . (= Βασ .), den einzigen Beleg für κέρας σωτηρίας. Das wird dort als Gottesanrede verwendet (‘Horn meines Heils’) von ‘David, dem Diener des Herrn (τῷ παιδὶ κυρίου), … an dem Tag, als ihn der Herr errettete aus der Hand aller seiner Feinde und aus der Hand Sauls’ (.). Die messianische Bedeutung von κέρας für sich ist belegt in Hannas Lied ( Βασ .: κέρας χριστοῦ) und Ψ . (κέρας τῷ Δαυιδ), die von ‘Haus David’ z.B. in der Nathansweissagung ( Chr .: ὁ οἶκος Δαυιδ παιδός σου). Mit ἤγειρεν wird κέρας sonst nie verbunden, aber vergleichbar ist Ri ., : ‘Der Herr erweckte ihnen einen Retter’, nämlich die Richter Otniël und Ehud; die Bezeichnung σωτήρ gibt ihnen proto-messianische Funktion. Schließlich die Exodustradition hinter .b: Zwar ist das Substantiv λύτρωσις selten in LXX und nur Ψ . aufs ‘Volk’ bezogen (λύτρωσιν ἀπέστειλεν τῷ λαῷ αὐτοῦ). Aber das Verbum λυτρόω verbunden mit λαόν ist typische Exodussprache, z.B. im Moselied (Ex .), im Klage- oder Dankpsalm (Ψ .; . + ), auch in Davids Dankgebet nach Nathans Weissagung Vgl. Apg .–: Des Paulus Schlusswort an die Juden steht, ebenfalls nachklappend, pointiert am Ende, ebenfalls feierlich eingeleitet (‘Gut hat der heilige Geist gesprochen durch Jesaja den Propheten’). Zwar ‘an/von Salomo’ (.LXX bzw. .BH), aber Abschluss der ὕμνοι Δαυιδ (.). Vgl. Parallele Chr . (mit εὐλογημένος statt εὐλογητός): Danklied bei Davids Überführung der Bundeslade. Parallelüberlieferung Βασ . ohne παῖς. Zur Funktion des παῖς μου (‘Gottesknecht’) εἰς σωτηρίαν vgl. Jes . (zitiert Apg .). Außerdem: Shemone Esre, . Benediktion (Bill. /, , babyl. Rez.): ‘Gepriesen seist du …, der sprossen läßt [das Horn der] Hilfe’ (eingeklammert: späterer Zusatz nach Dalman). Ungewiss ist das Alter, d.h. ob Lk Kenntnis haben konnte. Vgl. Βασ .– (Parallelüberlieferung): durchweg δοῦλος statt παῖς. Vgl. W. Foerster, ‘κέρας’, ThWNT () ,–. Vgl. G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments I (München: Kaiser, . Aufl. ) .
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
( Chr .: … λαοῦ σου οὓς ἐλυτρώσω ἐξ Αἰγύπτου ≈ Bas .) und ähnlich nach der Bewahrung vor Saul (Ψ .: ὅτι σὺ λαὸν ταπεινὸν σώσεις ≈ Βασ .). Die Erinnerung an die Rettung von einst begründet das Vertrauen auf Gott in der Zukunft. Ebenso erinnert ἐπεσκέψατο an Gottes gnädige Zuwendung beim Exodus, durch Joseph vorhergesehen und am Dornbusch offenbart (Gen .–; Ex .; .). Das Wort bezeichnet zugleich Gottes geheimnisvolles Eingreifen bei der Schwangerschaft der unfruchtbaren Sara (Gen .) sowie bei den weiteren Kindern der Hanna ( Βασ .). So kann Zacharias mit diesem Stichwort den Dank für die Geburt des Johannes mit der Ansage der messianischen Zeitenwende verbinden. Die diversen Anspielungen aufs AT werden in . grundsätzlich und ausdrücklich interpretiert als Erfüllung von Gottes Verheißungen. Die Wendung καθὼς ἐλάλησεν (wie .) stammt aus LXX. Der Ausdruck διὰ στόματος τῶν ἁγίων ἀπ᾿ αἰῶνος αὐτοῦ προϕητῶν (wörtlich wie Apg .) ist doppelt gewichtig: () Sie werden ‘heilige Propheten’ genannt, vermutlich um ihre unangefochtene, also kanonische Dignität und Autorität zu bezeichnen, analog zu ‘heilige Schriften’. () Die zeitliche Bestimmung ‘Propheten von Urzeit an’, sonst nirgends belegt, wird im entstehenden dreiteiligen Kanon (vgl. .) die Bücher von Josua bis Dodekapropheton betreffen, also einschließlich der später sogenannten ‘vorderen Propheten’, aber auch Mose (nach Apg . mit Dtn .) und David (nach Apg .) mitumfassen, mithin auch den Pentateuch und aus den ‘Schriften’ mindestens den Psalter, also (trotz aller noch offenen Ränder) die Schrift als ganze. So zeigt Lukas einerseits, wie einzelne Schriftstellen auf die Jesus-Geschichte hindeuten, andrerseits, dass sich darin die Schrift insgesamt erfüllt. Denselben Vgl. Βασ .; ., (ἐλάλησας); Βασ .; mit καθότι: Ex .; Dtn . (nach Wolter, Lk, ). Später, seltener Ausdruck, vgl. Petr .; syrBar . (nur Ms. c, nach JSHRZ , ); Josephus, Ant. :. (Mss. MVE, nach ed. Niese). Singularisch: Weish . (Mose); [griech.] ApkEsr . (Esra; JSHRZ , ). Begriffe: γραϕαὶ ἁγίαι (Röm .); ἱερὰ γράμματα ( Tim .; Philo; Josephus); ἱεραὶ γραϕαί (Philo); vgl. G. Schrenk, ‘γράϕω κτλ.’, ThWNT () –, bes. ,–; ,–. Rabbinische Belege (selten): Bill. , ; vgl. K. G. Kuhn, ‘ἅγιος κτλ D’, ThWNT () –, bes. ,–. Vgl. Περὶ ὕψους .: τοὺς ἀπ᾿ αἰῶνος ῥήτορας. Vgl. Bill. /, (nach bBB b Baraitha): Rabbinische Liste mit Büchern, darunter ‘Nebi’im’ (Jos, Ri, Sam, Kön, Jer, Ez, Jes, Dodekapropheton). Anders Josephus, Ap. .– (ca. n.Chr.): insgesamt Bücher, darunter ‘Propheten nach Mose’ (außer den Genannten vermutlich: Hiob, Dan, Est, Esr, Chr). Vgl. R. Meyer, ‘I. Kanonisch und apokryph im Judentum’, ThWNT () –, bes. ,–. Vgl. G. Fohrer, Einleitung in das AT (Heidelberg: Quelle & Meyer, . Aufl. ) : Unterteilung von ‘früheren’ (Jos-Kön) und ‘späteren’ Propheten ‘seit dem . Jh’.; H. L. Strack, ‘Kanon des AT’, RE () –, bes. ,–: Bezeichnung prophetae priores / posteriores ‘in der Maßora’, noch nicht im Talmud.
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
hermeneutischen Grundsatz, explizit mit Beziehung auf ‘alle Schriften’ (.), formuliert er auch am Ende seines Evangeliums (.) und ebenso im Eingangs- und Schlussteil der Apg (.; .). .. Vergegenwärtigung des Väterbundes (.–) Auf die Ansage der eschatologischen Zeitenwende folgt das ekklesiologische Thema Bund. Im Hintergrund steht durchgängig Jos , der ‘Landtag zu Sichem’. Das betrifft zunächst die Abfolge von Erinnerung an Gottes Wohltaten einerseits (.–) und Verpflichtung zum treuen Dienen andrerseits (.– ). Dazu kommt die wörtliche Übernahme von Motiven und Klauseln: ἐκ χειρὸς sc. ἐχθρῶν (., ) / ἐκ χειρῶν αὐτῶν (Jos .); ἔλεος μετὰ τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν (.) / ἐξ-/ἀνήγαγεν τοὺς πατέρας ἡμῶν (.B, ); Ἀβραὰμ τὸν πατέρα ἡμῶν (.) / τὸν πατέρα ὑμῶν τὸν Αβρααμ (.); λατρεύειν αὐτῷ ἐν ὁσιότητι καὶ δικαιοσύνῃ (.–) / λατρεύειν αὐτῷ ἐν εὐθύτητι καὶ ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ (.); πάσαις ταῖς ἡμέραις ἡμῶν (.) / πάσας τὰς ἡμέρας Ἰησοῦ (.LXX). Schließlich das Schlüsselwort διαθήκη (.): Bezogen auf die feierliche Selbstverpflichtung des Gottesvolks, erinnert es zugleich an den Väterbund (.). Wer sind für Lukas die ‘Feinde’? Gewiss nicht die Römer, ein politisches Messiasverständnis ist beim Evangelisten auszuschließen. Wie Ψ .; . (Feinde Davids und des Gottesvolks) denkt er an die Feinde des Messias (Lk ., ; . = Ψ .), an den Hass gegen dessen Anhänger (.; .) und an die Konfrontation mit der Satansmacht (.–). Während die ‘Rettung’ aus deren Händen ‘uns’ betrifft, die gegenwärtige Generation des Zacharias, scheint das ‘Erbarmen’ (.a) nur den ‘Vätern’ von einst zu gelten. Dass sie ‘als Bewohner des Paradieses am Geschick des Volkes teil(nehmen)’, ist eine Verlegenheitsauskunft. Eher ist anzunehmen, dass Lukas die Gegenwart stillschweigend impliziert. Jedenfalls ist der Ausdruck ποιεῖν ἔλεος μετά gut belegt, fürs Erbarmen Gottes (Gen .) oder der Menschen (Ri .; .; auch Lk .). Die Wendung μνησθῆναι διαθήκης ἁγίας αὐτοῦ (.b) ist Vgl. Jos ..–.: mal λατρεύειν für Gottes- oder Götzendienst. Nur diese Parallele wird sonst angeführt, vgl. J. Gnilka, ‘Der Hymnus des Zacharias’, BZ NF () –, bes. ; H. Schürmann, Das Lukasevangelium (HThK ; Freiburg u.a.: Herder, ) Anm. ; E. Schweizer, Das Evangelium nach Lk (NTD ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, ./. Aufl. ) ; u.a. Anders: Neumann, Lk/Menippos, ; bezüglich Vorlage: Grundmann, Lk, ; Schweizer, Lk, ; Wiefel, Lk, . Wiefel, Lk, ; vgl. Grundmann, Lk, ; Schweizer, Lk, (nach .; .). Ähnlich Bovon, Lk, : Lk ‘nimmt diese kleine Spannung in Kauf’; vgl. Klein, Lk, : ‘in Analogie mit seinem Handeln an “unseren Vätern”’. Die anderen LXX-Belege gehören zur Davidsgeschichte ( von Gott: Βασ .; .; Βασ .; Chr .; Ψ .; von/an David: Βασ ., ; Βασ ., , ; .[] = Chr .[]) oder zu deren Umkreis (Rut .; Saul: Βασ .; Βασ .).
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
Explikation: Wenn Gott seines Bundes gedenkt, darf Israel trotz selbstverschuldeter Not jeweils auf gnädige Rettung hoffen. Die Geltung für die Gegenwart formuliert .: Was Gott einst Abraham geschworen hat, das will er jetzt ‘uns’ geben. Der Relativsatz nimmt eine typische LXX-Wendung auf, bestehend aus Relativpronomen, Aorist ὤμοσεν (oder ὤμοσα, -σας) und den Vätern als Empfängern von Gottes Schwur im Dativ. Von den Belegen stammen aus Dtn, weitere aus Gen–Jos. Das Relativpronomen bezieht sich mal auf γῆ (aufs ‘Gelobte Land’), aber nur mal auf ὅρκον, nämlich Gen .: Gott bestätigt Isaak ‘den Eid, den ich geschworen habe Abraham, deinem Vater’, betreffend Segensverheißung, Land und Nachkommenschaft; Dtn .: Israels Erwählung wird begründet in Gottes Treue zu dem ‘Eid, den er euren Vätern geschworen hat’, weshalb er sie aus Ägypten herausführte und ‘aus der Hand des Pharao erlöste’; Jer .: Gott wird an seinen Eid erinnert, ‘ihnen ein Land zu geben, das von Milch und Honig fließt’. Aus diesem Material schöpft Lukas, doch der Abraham geschworene Eid wird nun selbst zur Heilsgabe: Er verbürgt die Zugehörigkeit zum Gottesvolk der Abrahamskinder (vgl. .). Dem Indikativ entspricht der Imperativ, Gottes Handeln, beschrieben in drei Infinitiven (.–), zielt auf die Antwort des menschlichen Bundespartners im vierten: λατρεύειν αὐτῷ (.b). Gemeint ist damit Gottesdienst nicht als Kult, sondern im Sinn des ersten Gebots als Lebensentscheidung für den Gott Israels und gegen die Abgötter. Das wird durch zwei modale Adverbialbestimmungen Womöglich hat καί explikativen Beiklang; vgl. Blass-Debrunner, § , a. Bundespartner sind (bei LXX-Belegen): x Noah (Gen .–), x Erzväter (Ex .; .; Lev .[], ; Makk .; Makk .; Ψ .), x Israel (Ψ .; .), x Jerusalem (Ez .); anders Am . (Vertrag zwischen Völkern). Zu ‘heiliger Bund’ (spät und selten) vgl. Makk ., ; Jer .LXX; Dan ., [] (nach Wolter, Lk, ). Ähnliche Wendung, aber ohne ‘Vater’: ἐλέη … ἃ ὤμοσας τῷ Δαυιδ (Ψ .). Zu ὤμοσεν πρός (statt Dat.) vgl. Homer, Od. , ; , . Gen .; .; Ex ., ; .; Num .; .; .; Jos .; .; ., . Außerdem Ri .; Mi .; Jer .; [].; Bar .. Außerdem Dtn .: Beziehung auf διαθήκην (wie .; .) und ἔλεος (wie .; .; Mi .); Dtn .; .: auf Erhebung zum Gottesvolk; Jos .: ‘gab ihnen Ruhe ringsum, wie er geschworen hatte ihren Vätern’. Im NT ist die LXX-Wendung sonst nicht belegt, aber Barn .. Vgl. Weish . (einziger LXX-Beleg für ὅρκον als Objekt von δοῦναι): ‘den Vätern hast du Eide und Verträge gegeben (ὅρκους καὶ συνθήκας ἔδωκας) voll guter Verheißungen’. Sonst bedeutet ὅρκους διδόναι ‘Eide ablegen’, vgl. Herodot Hist. , .; Aristoteles Rhet. a; Aristophanes Lys. . Vgl. Bovon, Lk, . Anders: Grundmann, Lk, ; Wiefel, Lk, : Das Leben ‘als heiliger Priesterdienst … des ganzen Volkes’; Schweizer, Lk, : Ziel ist ‘der ungestörte Gottesdienst’. Vgl. H. Strathmann, ‘λατρεύω κτλ’, ThWNT () –, bes. ,–: Ausdruck ‘der treuen Ergebenheit gegen Jahwe’, in innerer Haltung wie Lebensführung. Belege: außer Jos
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
ausgeführt: Einerseits, im Gegenüber zur feindlichen Welt, d.h. coram mundo, ist Furchtlosigkeit angesagt (ἀϕόβως), nicht als Ergebnis stoischer Reflexion und Selbstdisziplin, sondern begründet in der kollektiven Erfahrung, dass Gott sein Volk feindlichem Zugriff heilvoll entrissen hat und entreißt (.a). Andrerseits, explizit coram Deo: ‘vor ihm’ sind ‘Heiligkeit und Gerechtigkeit’ die ethischen Leitziele im Verhalten gegenüber Gott und Menschen (.a); der Doppelaspekt des Liebesgebots ist darin zusammengefasst (vgl. .). Gottesdienst dieser Art soll ‘alle unsre Tage’ bestimmen (.b). Die Verse .– sind somit klar strukturiert. Ist auch hinter .– ein Strukturprinzip erkennbar? Schon Wettstein hat in den Begriffen ἔλεος, μνησθῆναι und ὅρκον einen sensum mysticum vermutet, nämlich über die hebräischen Namen Johannes (‘JHWH ist gnädig’), Zacharias (‘JHWH hat gedacht’) und Elisabeth (‘Gott hat geschworen’); ebenso lässt sich σωτηρίαν mit Jesus verbinden (‘JHWH ist Rettung’). So wäre die Gedankenfolge .– insgeheim in der Hierarchie dieser Namen begründet. Hat Lukas, der sich sonst auf die griechische LXX bezieht, die hebräische Bedeutung dieser Namen gekannt? Jedenfalls bei Johannes ist dies wahrscheinlich, gilt doch sein Name als auffällig (.–), und in seiner Geburt erweist ‘der Herr seine Gnade’ (.). Inhaltlich beziehen sich diese Verse auf Exodustradition (.) und Vätergeschichte, mit dem Bundesschluss zwischen Gott und Abraham (.– ), also auf die Grunderfahrungen des Gottesvolks, die mit dem Anbruch der messianischen Zeit wieder aktuell werden. So steckt hinter den konzentrierten Formulierungen des Lukas zugleich gründliche theologische Reflexion. .. Heilserkenntnis durch Johannes wegen Christus (.–) Ob sich Lukas an einem Genethliakon orientiert, sei dahingestellt. Jedenfalls folgt auf das Gotteslob die . avisierte Prophezeiung, daher der
bes. Ex .; Dtn . (Bilderverbot); . (= Lk .); .– (Shema Jisrael); auch Apg .; .; insgesamt typischer Dtn-Begriff (x). Vgl. Epiktet, Diss. , .: ἄϕοβος … ἔσει καὶ ἀτάραχος (‘sei ohne Furcht und ohne Regung’); H. Balz, ‘ϕοβέω κτλ’, ThWNT () –, bes. ,–. Vgl. Philo Spec. Leg. , : ‘zwei höchste Hauptpunkte’ (δύο τὰ ἀνωτάτω κεϕάλαια) der zahlreichen Einzelgebote, einerseits εὐσέβεια und ὁσιότης, andrerseits ϕιλανθρωπία und δικαιοσύνη (nach Wolter, Lk, , ). Begriffspaar ὁσιότης / δικαιοσύνη auch Weish .; ähnlich Dtn .; Weish .–; Eph .. Vgl. Ψ .: ἐν πάσαις ταῖς ἡμέραις ἡμῶν. J. J. Wettstein, Novum Testamentum graecum I (Amsterdam: Dommeriana, ) ; vgl. Meynet, Lc, (auch Jesus). So nach Erdmann (Vorgeschichten, ) z.B. Vielhauer, Benedictus, ; Grundmann, Lk, ; Bovon, Lk, . Anders K. Berger, ‘Hellenistische Gattungen im NT’, ANRW II, / () –, bes. : ‘kein Genethliakon’, sondern (wie Vergils . Ekloge) ‘ein futurisch formuliertes Führer-Enkomion’.
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
Wechsel vom Aorist zum Futur. Zunächst (.) antwortet Zacharias explizit auf die unmittelbar vorausgehende Frage (.): ‘Was wird dieses Kind wohl werden?’ Was dann als Auftrag des Johannes ausgesagt ist (.), bedarf einer Begründung, die implizit auf den Messias vorausweist (.–). Johannes wird mit Titel und Funktion angekündigt. Er ist προϕήτης ὑψίστου (.a), also dem υἱὸς ὑψίστου (.) koordiniert und zugleich subordiniert; auch sonst ragt er heraus als letzter der Propheten (.; .; .). Sein Auftrag als Vorläufer und Wegbereiter des Herrn (.b) stammt aus der synoptischen Täufer-Überlieferung mit der Kombination (Mk .–) von Jes .– und Ex . / Mal . (= Lk .– bzw. .; vgl. .). Dabei dürfte κύριος doppelten Sinn haben: Gottesname für Zacharias, für Lukas jedoch insgeheim schon Christustitel (vgl. .; .). Was Johannes bringt, definiert die mittlere Doppelzeile durch das Stichwort ‘Vergebung ihrer Sünden’ (.b), entsprechend der Tradition Mk ., wonach der Täufer die Bußtaufe predigte εἰς ἄϕεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν (ebenso Lk .). Doch gerade bei Lukas spricht Jesus selbst Vergebung zu (.; .); nach Ostern wird sie in seinem Namen verkündigt (.; Apg .; .; .; .), zunächst dem ‘Volk’, also Israel (Apg .; .), wie schon von Johannes (.a; Apg .). Lukas sieht Johannes und Jesus ganz nah beisammen. Die ‘Erkenntnis des Heils’, die Johannes schenken soll und die in der Sündenvergebung besteht, wird dem ‘Wort des Heils’ (λόγος τῆς σωτηρίας) entsprechen, das Paulus verkündigt (Apg .). Ziel dieser ‘Soterio-Logie’ ist Bekehrung zu Gott (.), nicht politische Befreiung. Johannes ist Heilsbringer nur in Verbindung mit Christus. Seine Heilsfunktion ist begründet (διά) in Gottes, durch sprachliche Doppelung potenziertem Erbarmen (.a), und ebendarin (ἐν οἷς) gründet zugleich die Epiphanie der messianischen ἀνατολὴ ἐξ ὕψους (.b). Deren soteriologische Wirkung ist abschließend beschrieben (.): Sie bringt Licht für die in Finsternis und Todesschatten, was wörtlich Ψ . aufnimmt (καθημένους ἐν σκότει καὶ σκιᾷ θανάτου) und schon über Israel hinausweisen dürfte. Ziel ist, ‘Analogiebildung’ zu προϕήτης τοῦ κυρίου/θεοῦ (Wolter, Lk, ) mit bzw. LXX-Belegen: Βασ . (Elia); . = Chr . (Micha b. Jimla); Βασ . (Elisa); Sir . (Samuel) bzw. Βασ . (Elisa); Makk . (Jeremia). Anders G. Friedrich, ‘προϕήτης κτλ D’, ThWNT () –, bes. ,–: ‘Prophet des Höchsten ist … eine Bezeichnung für die [!] eschatologische Heilsgestalt’. Ähnlich, bezüglich Tradition/Redaktion: F. Hauck, Das Evangelium des Lk (ThHK ; Leipzig: Deichert, ) ; Grundmann, Lk, . Anders Wolter, Lk, : ‘mit Sicherheit Gott’. Die einzelnen sind angesprochen: αὐτῶν; vgl. .: Bekehrung ‘vieler’ in Israel. Anders Schmithals, Lk, ; Bovon, Lk, : Unterscheidung zwischen Erkenntnis des Heils und Heil selbst (nicht überzeugend, trotz der Vorgänger Erasmus und Luther, vgl. Frech, Magnificat, ). Ähnlich Jes .–: ὁ πορευόμενος ἐν σκότει …· οἱ κατοικοῦντες ἐν … σκιᾷ θανάτου (anders zitiert in Mt .: καθήμενος / τοῖς καθημένοις). ‘Finsternis und Todesschatten’
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
auszurichten auf den Friedensweg, ausdrücklich ‘uns’, also das Gottesvolk; wobei ὁδὸς εἰρήνης wie Ψ .LXX (= Röm .); Jes . und analog zu ὁδὸς θεοῦ, κυρίου, ζωῆς oder σωτηρίας primär auf die Glaubensentscheidung abzielt, nicht die Lebenspraxis. Dem entspricht der LXX-Ausdruck κατευθύνειν καρδίαν/-ας, der jeweils das Herz auf den Herrn ausrichtet; ‘Füße’ als Objekt sind singulär, vermutlich abgeleitet von der ‘Weg’-Metapher. Wann erscheint die Lichtgestalt? Gewiss in der Zukunft: ἐπισκέψεται! Wann genau? Mit Jesu öffentlichem Auftreten? Oder erst mit der Sendung des Geistes, der angekündigt ist als ‘Kraft ἐξ ὕψους’ (.)? Näher liegt, was unmittelbar folgt: Jesu Geburt. Dort erinnert an .– das Himmelslicht mitten in der Nacht (.–), ‘Gott ἐν ὑψίστοις’ und ‘εἰρήνη auf Erden’ (.). Lukas will Johannes und Jesus eng zusammenbinden, wie überhaupt beider Anfänge in sieben Teilen kunstvoll miteinander verwoben sind (.–.). Womöglich sind ihre Namen auch hier geheimnisvoll ineinander verschränkt: Des Johannes Auftrag weist auf Jesus (.: σωτηρία), die messianische Begründung auf Johannes (.: ἔλεος). Jedenfalls ist der Täufer biographisch und theologisch in die JesusGeschichte integriert. Seine Geburt inauguriert die messianische Zeit, von der die gnädige Restituierung des Gottesvolks erwartet wird. Seine Predigt der Sündenvergebung bereitet darauf vor, steht aber schon im Licht der ChristusEpiphanie. So erfüllen sich die eschatologischen, ekklesiologischen und soteriologischen Hoffnungen Israels, die im Benediktus knapp rekapituliert sind. Damit unterstreicht Lukas die Gemeinsamkeiten zwischen Johannes und Jesus: Ohne Rückbezug auf ‘Gesetz und Propheten’ ist Jesu Sendung nicht richtig zu verstehen, und Johannes bildet deren krönenden Abschluss (.–; .a). Das Neue wird später herausgestellt: Jesu Predigt von Gottes Reich
außerdem: Hiob .; .; Ψ .; σκιὰ θανάτου mit σκότος im Kontext: Hiob .; . []; Jer .; ohne σκότος: Hiob .אcA; Ψ .; .. Weg ‘Gottes’: Lk .; Apg .; κυρίου: Lk . (Jes .); Apg .; .; ζωῆς: Apg . (Ψ .); σωτηρίας: Apg .; vgl. Wolter, Lk, (weitere LXX-Belege). Absolutes ὁδός für ‘Glaubensrichtung’: Apg .; ., ; .; ., . Anders Bovon, Lk, : gehorsames ‘Handeln’. Vgl. Chr .; Chr .; .; .; .; Spr .; .; Sir .; dazu Thess .; nur εὐθύνειν: Jos .; Sir .. Vergleichbar ist κατευθύνειν διαβήματα (‘Schritte’): Ψ .; .; .. Gut bezeugt von *אB u.a.; daneben vielfach ἐπεσκέψατο. Nach Brown, Birth, : Aorist als lectio difficilior, weil Jesu Geburt noch zukünftig. Dagegen Metzger, Commentary, : Aorist ebensogut vom Futur ableitbar, als Angleichung an .. So K. H. Rengstorf, Das Evangelium nach Lk (NTD ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, . Aufl. ) . Aufbau mit drei Johannes- und vier Jesus-Teilen, im Zentrum die Weihnachtsgeschichte: .–, –, –; .–, –; .–; .–..
Abraham geschworen—uns gegeben
(.; .b; noch nicht .), seine wundervollen Heilungstaten (.; vgl. Apg .), dazu die Taufe mit Geist und Feuer (.; vgl. Apg .; .; .–). An der Schwelle zum Neuen jedoch steht der Täufer, und so bleibt er im Gedächtnis (Apg .; .; .). . Stichometrische Beobachtungen zu Umfang und Proportionen
Den Umfang griechischer Prosatexte hat man mit einer Maßzeile berechnet, die entsprechend dem Durchschnittshexameter ursprünglich , später (wie im Lateinischen) Silben zählte. Im Verlagswesen war dies ein übliches Verfahren, ebenso im Rhetorikunterricht; offenbar kannten es auch die Autoren des NT. Danach zählt das Benediktus (-Silben-)Stichoi, exakt : (d.h. Restsilben). Die Zahl ist bemerkenswert: Die Ostergeschichte Mk .– ist gleichgroß, der Epheserbrief insgesamt hat × = Stichoi. Interessant die Proportionen: Der Eulogie-Teil (.–) zählt (:) Stichoi, die Prophezeiung (.–) exakt :. Auch .– hat (:) Stichoi, für .– bleiben :. Nun gehören die Zahlen , , , in die sog. Fibonacci-Reihe der Näherungswerte zum Goldenen Schnitt, die beiden Zäsuren scheinen dieses Verhältnis abzubilden. Weithin wird man für abwegig halten, dass Lukas darauf geachtet habe. Doch wenn sich solche Proportionen bei ihm auch sonst nachweisen ließen? Der Kontext .– etwa hat × = Stichoi; auf .– entfallen × = , auf den Rest × = Stichoi. Durchweg sind das Produkte aus Fibonacci-Zahlen! Zwar hat Teil .– nach dieser Betrachtung vier Silben zuviel. Aber bei textkritischer Tilgung von κύριος (.) ist dieser Schönheitsfehler auf : Stichoi reduziert. Für den Kurztext spricht das Kriterium Alter/Verbreitung ( W it vgst sys samss Cyprian: seit . Jh. von Ost bis West bezeugt) und die Ableitbarkeit des Langtexts (lectio brevior, sekundär ans LXX-Vorbild angeglichen). Allerdings wird die Lesart kaum diskutiert und nur von Harnack unterstützt. Der Text ohne κύριος wäre ein stichometrisches i-Tüpfelchen: Vgl. F.G. Lang, ‘Schreiben nach Maß. Zur Stichometrie in der antiken Literatur’, NT () – bes. –; ders., ‘Stichometrie’, RGG () ; außerdem: www.stichometrie.de. Vgl. F.G. Lang, ‘Maßarbeit im Markus-Aufbau. Stichometrische Analyse und theologische Interpretation I’, BN () –, bes. ; ders., ‘Ebenmaß im Epheserbrief. Stichometrische Kompositionsanalyse’, NT () –, bes. . Benannt nach Leonardo von Pisa (‘Bonaccio-Sohn’, um ), belegt bei Nikomachos von Gerasa (um n.Chr.); vgl. Lang, Schreiben, . Jede Zahl ist die Summe der beiden vorhergehenden; je höher, desto näher kommt das Verhältnis von zwei benachbarten Zahlen dem irrationalen Wert , … Absatzgestaltung auf GNT-Basis, aber ohne Absatz vor ., ; neu vor ., . Ebenfalls Stichoi hat Mk .–., vgl. Lang, Maßarbeit, . Harnack, Magnifikat, : ‘Lucas empfand wohl das artikellose Wort vor ὁ θεός als einen Barbarismus’. Anders Metzger, Commentary (nur . Aufl. ) : Kurztext ‘probably the
FRIEDRICH GUSTAV LANG
Indiz, wie präzis Lukas auch literarisch gearbeitet hat. Jedenfalls kann die Stichometrie bestätigen, dass das Benediktus ‘aus einem Guss’ ist. German abstract: Das Benediktus ist von Lukas selbst verfasst. Seine Syntax ist durchsichtig, vorausgesetzt man versteht . als Zeugma und . als Hyperbaton. Es besteht aus drei Teilen mit + + Doppelzeilen; ihr Inhalt ist schwerpunktmäßig eschatologisch (.–: Erfüllung messianischer Hoffnungen), ekklesiologisch (.–: Gottes Bund) und soteriologisch (.–: Sündenvergebung). Die Mitte bildet der Eid, den Gott Abraham geschworen und ‘uns’ gegeben hat (.). Der Hymnus insgesamt beweist die theologische Kompetenz des Lukas, seine gründliche Kenntnis der LXX und sein literarisches Können, das sich sogar stichometrisch an den Proportionen der Textabschnitte aufzeigen lässt.
result of scribal oversight, occasioned by homoeoteleuton’ (inwiefern, bleibt unklar; kein Kommentar zur Bezeugung); Mittmann-Richert, Magnifikat, Anm. .
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000111
‘Some were saying, ‘‘He is good’’’ (John 7.12b): ‘Good’ Christology in John’s Gospel?* JA N E H EAT H School of Divinity, History and Philosophy, King’s College, University of Aberdeen, Aberdeen, AB24 3UB. email:
[email protected]
Far from being the banality suggested by commentators, John’s use of the vocabulary of ‘goodness’ for Jesus (ἀγαθός and καλός) is christologically significant. It points to Jesus’ unity with God. The Johannine treatment of Jesus’ ‘goodness’ and interpretation of the Shema contrasts with and complements the Synoptic treatment of these themes in the rich man pericope (Mark .– parr.). Keywords: John’s gospel, monotheism, goodness, rich man, Shema, Christology, commandments . Introduction
It is the Feast of Tabernacles in Jerusalem, a bustling festival where the Jews are gathered to dwell in booths for eight days, remembering God’s gift of shelter in the wilderness (Lev .), and looking forward to his eschatological manifestation of his kingship on all the earth (Zech ). Before Jesus’ appearance on the scene, the crowds are already muttering about him: οἱ μϵ̀ν ϵ῎ λϵγον ὅτι ἀγαθός ϵ̓στιν, ἄλλοι [δϵ̀ ] ϵ῎ λϵγονׁ οὔ, ἀλλὰ πλανᾷ τὸν ὄχλον (‘Some people were saying, “He is good”; others were saying, “No, he is leading the people * Earlier versions of this paper were presented in for the John Seminar at the British New Testament Society Conference and for the New Testament Seminar at the University of Aberdeen. I am grateful to both audiences and to the editor of this journal for very helpful feedback. Errors and infelicities remain my own. Possibly outside the Temple itself: cf. H. Ulfgard, The Story of Sukkot: The Setting, Shaping, and Sequel of the Biblical Feast of Tabernacles (BGBE ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) , on Neh .; QT cols. and . On the Feast in general, see esp. Ulfgard, Story of Sukkot. Other literature includes: J. Daniélou, ‘Les Quatre-Temps de Septembre et la Fête des Tabernacles’, MD () –; G. W. MacRae, ‘The Meaning and Evolution of the Feast of Tabernacles’, CBQ () –; R. E. Brown, The Gospel According to John (AB ; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, ) – ; H. Ulfgard, Feast and Future: Revelation :– and the Feast of Tabernacles (CBNTS : Almqvist & Wiksell International, ) –.
JANE HEATH
astray”,’ John .). Commentators on the gospel usually have little to say about this verse, and if they do dwell on it, then it is the second, pejorative half that they focus on. This is true of great exegetes, such as Rudolf Schnackenburg and Charles Kingsley Barrett, but the most interesting and extended discussion in this vein is by James Louis Martyn. Martyn explains why it is that John . is so disappointing: after the healing of the cripple in ch. , John had recorded the Jews’ increased hostility toward Jesus:
διὰ τοῦτο οὖν μᾶλλον ϵ̓ζήτουν αὐτὸν οἱ ᾽Iουδαῖοι ἀποκτϵῖναι, ὅτι οὐ μόνον ϵ῎ λυϵν τὸ σάββατον, ἀλλὰ καὶ πατϵ́ρα ἴδιον ϵ῎ λϵγϵν τὸν θϵὸν ἴσον ϵ̔αυτὸν ποιῶν τῷ θϵῷ. The Jews started seeking to kill him, because he was not only breaking the Sabbath, but also saying that God was his own father, making himself as great as God. (John .)
John . then verbally repeats the first part of this verse, ϵ̓ζήτουν αὐτὸν οἱ ᾽Iουδαῖοι ἀποκτϵῖναι (‘the Jews were seeking to kill him’). The repetition raises expectations of a claim about Jesus that will be of the magnitude of John .—that he was ‘making himself as great as God’ and thus, from a hostile perspective, challenging monotheism. It is in the light of this, Martyn argues, that John . seems rather bland. However, like Schnackenburg and Barrett, Martyn does find that on closer inspection ‘He is leading the people astray’ is more significant than at first appears. The language of ‘leading astray’ can be traced through later accounts of the legal basis for Jesus’ death (Just. Mart. Dial. , ; Sanh. a), to show that at least by the second century Jews were claiming that Jesus was put to death as one who tried to ‘lead [Israel] astray’, like the prophet or dreamer mentioned in Deut .-: there the same verb (πλανᾶν) is used for one who urges people to ‘go worship other gods, gods we have not known’ (Deut .-). That passage commands faithful Israelites to put this ‘person who is leading astray’ to death by stoning (Deut .). Accounts of persecutions of Christians in the second century suggest that Deut .– was also turned against Jesus’ followers. Martyn and others thus argue that John was probably familiar with this text as a Jewish charge in his own day against Jesus and the Christians, and so
J. L. Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (nd rev. ed.; Nashville: Abingdon, ) –. Martyn, History and Theology, . Polycarp: Polyc. Mart. Pol. .; it is also plausible that the ‘Ben Stada’ of rabbinic literature was a Christian persecuted on this charge, see j. Sanh. c, d; b. Sanh. a with discussion in Martyn, History and Theology, .
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
for that reason portrays it on the lips of the crowds who seek to kill him, as well as drawing attention several times to the attempts specifically to stone him, as Deuteronomy commanded (John .; .-; .). From a literary perspective, it is unlikely that the dark half of the diptych of the crowds’ beliefs about Jesus should be so rich in meaning, while the bright half that balances it semantically should be as banal as is suggested by the exegetes. From a theological perspective, it is unlikely that ‘He is good’ is in fact utterly banal in any case, for although ‘good’ can be as bland an adjective as the English ‘nice’ without context, where theological debates are in view it is an important claim that demands inspection. Indeed, Martyn’s formulation has turned the problem into more than a question simply of whether ‘He is good’ is banal (Schnackenburg’s word was ‘colourless’; Barrett’s was ‘inadequate’). Rather, Martyn’s presentation has raised the question as to whether ‘He is good’ offers any challenge to traditional Jewish understandings of monotheism, corresponding both to John ., he was making himself as great as God, and to the implication of ὁ πλανῶν in John . that he is seeking to lead people to other, unknown gods. This question demands a closer study of Johannine vocabulary of ‘goodness’, its resonances in the early Christian tradition, and John’s own literary deployment of it. . John’s Vocabulary of ‘Goodness’: ἀγαθός and καλός
Greek has a range of adjectives that correspond to aspects of the English ‘good’ or the Hebrew טוב. Particularly prominent in the LXX as translations for טובare ἀγαθός and καλός; χρηστός is rare outside the psalms; ὡραῖος occurs occasionally; ἐσθλός is absent. In John, ἀγαθός and καλός are the only terms in this semantic domain that appear. J. H. Neyrey is the only scholar to my knowledge to have written specifically on John’s language of ‘goodness’. He draws a sharp distinction between ἀγαθός and Martyn, History and Theology, -; cf. C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St John (nd ed.; London: SPCK, ) ; R. Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St John, Vol. : Commentary on Chapters – (HTCNT ; London: Burns & Oates, ) –. Other commentaries find ‘He is good’ similarly bland, and some do not comment at all: F. Godet, Commentaire sur L’Évangile de Jean ( vols.; rd rev. ed.; Neuchatel: Attinger, ) .; R. Bultmann, Das Evangelium des Johannes (KEKNT /; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) n. ; E. Haenchen, Das Johannesevangelium: ein Kommentar (Tübingen: Mohr, ) ; D. A. Carson, The Gospel According to John (Pillar New Testament Commentary; Leicester: Intervarsity; Grant Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) ; B. Witherington III, John’s Wisdom: A Commentary on the Fourth Gospel (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, ) ; H. N. Ridderbos, The Gospel According to John: A Theological Commentary (Grant Rapids, MI/Cambridge: Eerdmans, E.T. ) ; L. Schenke, Johanneskommentar (Kommentare zu den Evangelien; Düsseldorf: Patmos, ) ; C. S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary ( vols.; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ) ..
JANE HEATH
καλός. However, the only text that he cites in support is Aristotle Rhetoric I..—a surprising witness to choose, since Aristotle here contrasts τὸ καλόν not with τὸ ἀγαθόν but with τὸ συμϕέρον. Neyrey’s other piece of evidence is his observation (for which he gives no textual support) that the opposite of ἀγαθός is πονηρός but the opposite of καλός is αἰσχρός. This is often true (e.g. Aristotle Rhetoric I..), but it did not always hold. In particular, the LXX and NT rarely use αἰσχρός at all and favour πονηρός as the opposite of both καλός and ἀγαθός. John uses κακῶς as the opposite of καλῶς (John .). ἀγαθός and καλός could have different nuances, depending on date, provenance, and context. ἀγαθός is the general term for ‘good’, used of the ideal or formal ‘good’ and appearing in a wide range of contexts. καλός often evokes especially ‘beauty’ or ‘nobility’. However, the two also frequently overlap closely. In the Greek world from the fifth century on, καλός and ἀγαθός were yoked in the expression καλὸς κἀγαθός or καλός τε καὶ ἀγαθός. This description of a good man was important originally in socio-political discourse, later also in more general discourse, or in specifically ethical contexts. The same expression appears for the devout in hellenistic Jewish literature, including the LXX; and in the NT and other early Christian literature. καλός and ἀγαθός could also often be used in close association without being formally combined in a fixed expression. Plato considered very closely together the ideal forms of the good (ἀγαθόν), beautiful (καλόν), and true (e.g. Rep. VI.d– VII.b, esp. b; cf. Hipp. Maj. c); Aristotle sometimes distinguished them (e.g. Metaph. XIII..a-). Their combination in the notion of deity was taken up in Platonic fashion in Philo, the Hermetica, and in the work of some church fathers. In hellenistic Jewish literature, including the LXX, καλός and ἀγαθός are often used together without sharp distinction between them, e.g. ‘they should assign forty-eight ἀγαθάς and καλάς cities to the Levites’ (Jos. Ant. .); ‘Praise the E.g. καλόν vs. πονηρόν (Gen ., ; ., ; Lev . (twice), , , ; Num .; Josh .; Ps .; Amos .-; Mic .; Mal .; Isa .; Matt .– etc.); ἀγαθόν vs. πονηρόν (Gen .; Sam .; Sam .; .; Neh .; Eccles .; Sir .; .; Isa .-; Ezek ., Matt . etc.). κακόν is also quite often used as the opposite of ἀγαθόν (Num .; Deut .; Mark . etc.). H. Wankel, ‘Kalos kai Agathos’ (PhD diss.; Julius-Maximilians-Universität zu Würzburg, ); W. Grundmann, ‘καλός’, TDNT () –; W. Donlan, ‘The Origin of καλὸς κἀγαθός’, AJP () –. E.g. Jos. Ant. .; .; Tob .; .; Macc .; Macc .; .; .; .; .; .; Luke .; Cl. Al. Strom. ... J. B. Weaver, ‘The Noble and Good Heart: καλοκὰγαθία [sic] in Luke’s Parable of the Sower’, Scripture and Traditions: Essays on Early Judaism and Christianity in Honor of Carl R. Holladay (ed. P. Gray and G. R. O’Day; NovTSup ; Leiden: Brill, ) –. E.g. Philo Leg. Gaj. ; CH XI.; see further: Grundmann, ‘καλός’, -; G. W. H. Lampe, ed., A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon, ) .
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
Lord for the Lord is ἀγαθός; sing praises to his name, for it is καλόν’ (Ps .). In the NT the two also occur in close combination: ‘Every good (ἀγαθόν) tree produces good (καλούς) fruit’ (Matt .-, twice), ‘do good works (ἀγαθοεργεῖν), be rich in good works (ἐν ἔργοις καλοῖς)’ ( Tim .). This last quotation cites a tradition of ‘good works’ which is common to Judaism and Christianity; rabbis discuss them as מעׂשים טובים, and in the LXX and NT ἀγαθὰ ἔργα and καλὰ ἔργα both occur widely. Since καλός and ἀγαθός were often closely related, this essay will differentiate them sharply only if the Johannine context demands it. This is not to assume that they are ‘synonyms’, although it is plausible that John intended them as a pair of words to highlight a key theme by elegant variation, much as he did with the pairs ἀγαπῶ and ϕιλῶ, or ὥρα and καιρός. Rather, the decision to treat together καλός and ἀγαθός responds to the fact that they are in the same semantic domain, which in Hebrew and English respectively is covered by a single adjective, and that the lexical evidence outside John forbids presupposing a sharp distinction, while the study of John’s language of ‘goodness’ for Jesus would be incomplete if only one of the two terms were examined.
. The Wider Context for ‘Good’ Christology
In the context of NT scholarship, the project of investigating the use of these particular terms stirs the debate well remembered from the response to Kittel’s Wörterbuch, about word studies vs. concept studies. The ‘goodness’ of Jesus and of God is perceptible in many ways without the presence of the particular term, hence as a ‘concept’ much work has been done on it before. Is a study of the application of the adjective ἀγαθός to Jesus in John, or even of the range of adjectives ἀγαθός and καλός, likely not merely to repeat previous work, but more importantly to circumscribe and distort the topic of the goodness of Jesus, because of its lexical focus? These are not insignificant questions, but a study focusing on the use of these particular words in John is useful if it can be shown that words for ‘good’ were important for early readers. This section will briefly consider the role of ‘goodness’ in Greek philosophy, Paul, and the Cf. Eccles .; Zech .. Cf. Tim .. E.g. καλὰ ἔργα (Matt .; .; Mark .; Tim .; ., ; .; Tit ., ; ., ; Heb .; Pet .); ἀγαθὰ ἔργα (Job .; Acts .; Rom .; .; Cor .; Eph .; Phil .; Col .; Tim .; Tim .; .; Tit .). See further: Str.-B. .-; Grundmann, ‘καλός’, -; and below, p. . M. Lattke, Einheit im Wort: Die spezifische Bedeutung von ἀγάπη, ἀγαπᾶν und ϕιλεῖν im Johannesevangelium (SANT ; Munich: Kösel, ) . My thanks to Yong Shin Jung for pointing out these comparanda. J. Barr, The Semantics of Biblical Language (Oxford: Oxford University, ) esp. –.
JANE HEATH
Synoptics, as scholars have widely found relationships between these and John in other ways. In the Greek philosophical tradition, the language of ‘goodness’ was given prominence by Plato when he began his pattern-story for education in his city with the characteristics of the god, of which the first is, ‘God is in actual reality good’ (ἀγαθὸς ὅ γε θεὸς τῷ ὄντι, Rep. II.b), and he made a sight of the form of the good and the true the end of the philosopher’s pilgrimage (Rep. VI.d– VII.b). By ‘good’, he envisaged a single, transcendent One. Aristotle’s discussion of the good opposed this; he argued that we should speak only of ‘good’ in particular categories of human experience, the good in quality is virtue, in essence it is divinity or reason, and so on. These two traditions of how to think about the ‘good’ developed over the following centuries in new ways. The Stoics were more influenced by Aristotle, but Philo and the Hermetica by Plato. For them, καλόν and ἀγαθόν, both together and separately, remained closely connected with the deity. ‘Good’ (ἀγαθός) emerged occasionally as a keyword in a wider debate about the boundaries between humanity and god. Diogenes, the Cynic of Sinope, is reported to have said that ‘good men are images of gods’ (DL ..); Philostratus records that Apollonius of Tyana learned from the Indians that good men are worthy of the title ‘god’, and used this as part of his defence at his trial, when charged with having received the appelation ‘god’ (Philostratus Vit. Ap. .; .). For these philosophers, ‘god’ was not the Platonic transcendent idea, but present in mortal men of virtue. This contrasts with the Platonic tradition of homoiosis theoi, whereby men through virtue become like gods, which was also widespread in the first century, though it deployed a broad range of keywords for the relevant virtues required for the transformation. Wisdom of The main discussions in Aristotle are in EN I, esp. .a-.b; EE I..ba cf. b; a-. Other passages are identified and concisely discussed in J. M. Cooper, ‘The Magna Moralia and Aristotle’s Moral Philosophy’, AJP () – . On the relationship between τὸ καλόν and τὸ ἀγαθόν in ethics, see EN III.–IV. with M. Palakuk, Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics: An Introduction (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –. W. Grundmann, ‘ἀγαθός etc’., TDNT () –; Grundmann, ‘καλός’ -; and n. , above. G. H. van Kooten, Paul’s Anthropology in Context: The Image of God, Assimilation to God, and Tripartite Man in Ancient Judaism, Ancient Philosophy and Early Christianity (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. H. Windisch, Paulus und Christus: Ein biblisch-religionsgeschichtlicher Vergleich (UNT ; Leipzig: Hinrich, ) . Cf. Nero appears as ‘the good god’ (ἀγαθῷ θεῷ) on a votive inscription: A. Deissmann, Light from the Ancient Near East (London: Hodder & Stoughton, E.T. ) . Similarly: Aristotle, EN .-.a-. Van Kooten, Paul’s Anthropology, –.
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
Solomon stands in this tradition when wisdom is said to be ‘a spotless mirror of God’s activity and an image of his goodness (ἐικὼν τῆς ἀγαθότητος αὐτοῦ); though she is one, she is capable of all things, and abiding in herself she makes all things new and goes across into holy souls in each generation and makes them friends of God and prophets’ (Wis .-). This carefully preserves the distinction between humanity and god, while articulating how Wisdom, as image not of God but of his goodness, transforms souls not into gods, but into friends and prophets of God. In Christian tradition, Paul nowhere calls Jesus ‘good’ in so many words. He underlines often that Christians are to be good, and that God is good to them; this presupposes the ascription of ‘good’ at least to ‘the Christ-event’, but Paul’s understanding of the sinlessness of Jesus himself has been much debated in view of texts like ἐν ὁμοιώματι σαρκὸς ἁμαρτίας (Rom .), or τὸν μὴ γνόντα ἁμαρτίαν ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν ἁμαρτίαν ἐποίησεν ( Cor .). The Synoptics have a little more to say than Paul does about calling Jesus ‘good’. It is very plausible that John had access to some form of the Synoptic tradition; for a literary relationship to Mark and Luke there is not insignificant evidence. It is in Mark and Luke that the story about Jesus’ encounter with the rich man raises the question of the ‘goodness’ of Jesus himself explicitly. According to these two gospels, the rich man approached Jesus and addressed him, ‘Good teacher’; Jesus’ sharp reaction suggests that he perceived the epithet as anything but banal or ‘colourless’. ‘Why do you call me good?’ he said, ‘No one is good except One, God’ (οὐδεὶς ἀγαθὸς εἰ μὴ εἷς ὁ θεός, Mark .//Luke .). εἷς ὁ θεός—this closing expression probably cites the Shema, the central confession of Judaism. This is an index of how much is at stake for theology in the application of ‘good’ to Jesus in the Synoptics, at least in Jesus’ eyes.
For the debate: V. P. Branwick, ‘The Sinful Flesh of the Son of God (Rom :): A Key Image of Pauline Theology’, CBQ () –; R. Bell, ‘Sacrifice and Christology in Paul’, JTS () –. The ‘Johannine Question’ continues to be much debated, but some form of relationship is now widely accepted. See esp.: A. Denaux, ed., John and the Synoptics (BETL ; Leuven: Leuven University, ), esp. the contributions of Neirynck and Barrett; D. M. Smith, John Among the Gospels: The Relationship in Twentieth-Century Research (Minneapolis: Fortress, ); M. Labahn and M. Lang, ‘Johannes und die Synoptiker: Positionen und Impulse seit ’, Kontexte des Johannesevangeliums: Das vierte Evangelium in religions- und traditionsgeschichtlicher Perspektive (ed. J. Frey and U. Schnelle; WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. The history and meaning of the Shema is another major debate, but its citation here is likely: see esp. K. H. Tan, ‘The Shema and Early Christianity’, TynB () –; cf. Athanasius Orationes tres contra Arianos ..-.
JANE HEATH
The meaning of the pericope is much debated. The main lines of debate are very well known and there is no need to reiterate them here. Most importantly for the present discussion, the pericope is intended to provoke reflection on the application of ‘good’ to Jesus. His response in Mark . to the rich man’s use of the epithet ἀγαθός for him does not close down answers: he does not say either ‘I am not good’ or ‘I am god’, though his words have been received in both ways by readers from antiquity to today. Matthew’s version of the pericope has often been understood as evidence for an early interpretation of Mark . that heard in Jesus’ words a denial of his own goodness. In Matthew, the rich man does not address Jesus as ‘Good teacher’, but asks only, ‘What good thing must I do to inherit eternal life?’ and Jesus replies, ‘Why do you ask me about the good? He Who Is Good is One (εἷς ἐστιν ὁ ἀγαθός)’ (Matt .-). Scholars see this as a deliberately ‘sanitised’ redaction of Mark, written in an historical setting where Mark . was an embarrassment to Christian theology. However, Matthew goes further: where in Mark and Luke Jesus’ instruction to the rich man begins, ‘One thing you lack . . .’ (Mark .; Luke .), in Matthew it begins, ‘If you want to be perfect (τέλειος) . . .’ (Matt .). Only once before has Jesus spoken about the command to perfection in Matthew; that was in the Sermon on the Mount, where he said, ‘Be perfect (τέλειος), as your heavenly father is perfect (τέλειος)’ (Matt .). Perfection there was likeness to the father; in speaking to the rich man, it becomes likeness to Jesus, for Jesus’ command about how to be perfect is to give up everything and ‘follow me’ (Matt .). In the LXX, τέλειος corresponds to the Hebrew ;טמיםit suggests blamelessness before God (Gen .; Deut .; Sam .; Wis .; Sir .) or the perfection of his ‘way’ and ‘teaching’ ( Sam .; Ps .; .), but not usually a quality of God himself. In philosophical Greek it indicates the maturity of having attained the ‘end’ (τέλος), but although philosophers speak of humans and other creatures as having ‘ends’, the perfection of the deity involves no progression to a goal. Matthew’s use of τέλειος for the heavenly father in the Sermon on the Mount probably implies already a christology that associates imitatio dei with imitatio Christi. In the literary context of the first gospel, however, Matt . appears to be an allusion to Matt .. This suggests that in the rich man pericope Matthew does not merely avoid the issue that Mark .– raises as to whether Jesus is good as God is good. Matthew’s text suggests An article that deserves more attention than it has received is J. C. O’Neill, ‘“Good Master” and the “Good” Sayings in the Teaching of Jesus’, IBS () –. V. Taylor, The Gospel According to St. Mark (London: Macmillan, ) –; O’Neill, ‘“Good” Sayings’, –. E.g. F. W. Beare, The Gospel according to Matthew (Oxford: Blackwell, ) ; W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison, The Gospel According to Saint Matthew ( vols.; ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, –) .. But cf. Deut .. Thanks to Markus Bockmuehl for these references.
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
awareness of not one but two ways of reading the Mark .: not only the challenge that ‘Jesus is not good (ἀγαθός)’, as a result of which problematic ambiguity in the opening exchange with the rich man is avoided, but also the counter-assertion that although ἀγαθός is reserved for God alone, in being the person to follow in order to become τέλειος, Jesus offers a model like the heavenly father (and the heavenly father offers a model like Jesus). If this is a correct reading of Matthew, then it suggests that Matthew found Mark . an occasion for reflecting on the extent, character, and limits of the proximation of Jesus to God, leading him to point toward an aspect of the unity between father and son. On this theme of unity Matthew does not go nearly as far as John, notwithstanding the so-called ‘Johannine thunderbolt’ in Matt .-, but the redaction of the rich man pericope suggests a direction that John took much further. Even without Matthew’s evidence, Jesus’ response to the rich man in Mark . // Luke . remains at least open to an interpretation in terms of Johannine christology that ‘I and the father are one’ (John .) and that ‘the son cannot do anything of himself, but what he sees the father doing’ (John .), for it highlights two themes on which John did reflect: the goodness of Jesus and his unity with God, which is the Johannine interpretation of the monotheistic Shema. Acceptance of Johannine christology facilitated the early patristic reading of Mark . as a claim by Jesus to divinity. John was aware that it was controversial to say of Jesus, ‘He is good’ (John .), though he includes no close reworking of the rich man pericope. He does, however, use ἀγαθός for Jesus on two separate occasions, and καλός a number of times; by contrast, in the Synoptics only ἀγαθός is applied directly to Jesus, and that only this once. This lends the theme a relative prominence in John’s gospel, albeit in a distinctive way. Such convergence of interest with the Synoptics in both the verbal occasion for theological reflection, and in the theological themes that are raised, makes it significant to investigate more closely John’s reception of Jesus as ‘good’ and its relationship, theological if not historical, to the Synoptic tradition. This essay will examine in literary sequence each of the passages in John’s gospel where he uses the terms ἀγαθός or καλός in relation to Jesus. The central questions of the discussion as a whole will be Martyn’s challenge about K. von Hase, Geschichte Jesu nach akademischen Vorlesungen (Leipzig : Breitkopf & Härtel, ) ; cf. A. Denaux, ‘The Q-Logion Mt , / Lk , and the Gospel of John’, John and the Synoptics (ed. Denaux) -. J. A. Bengel, Gnomon (ed. E. Bengel and J. C. F. Steudel; rd ed.; vols.; Tübingen: Ludov, ) .–. C. K. Barrett, ‘The Old Testament in the Fourth Gospel’, JTS () –. R. E. Brown, An Introduction to New Testament Christology (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist, ) . Discussion of the Synoptic verse was significant in the Trinitarian debates of the fourth century: Athanasius De Sancta Trinitate XXVIII, .-; ., -; ..
JANE HEATH
whether ‘He is good’ implies any significant reevaluation of Jewish understandings of monotheism, and, secondly, the relationship (theological if not historical) of Jesus’ ‘goodness’ to the Synoptic pericope about the rich man.
. Passages in John’s Gospel where ἀγαθός or καλός Appears
.. ‘Can anything good (ἀγαθόν) come out of Nazareth?’ (John .); ‘You have saved the good (καλόν) wine till now’ (John .) The first time ‘goodness’ is mentioned in John’s gospel is not in ch. , in the account of the Feast of Tabernacles, but at the calling of the first disciples in ch. , then it is picked up in the story of the wedding at Cana in ch. . Nathanael’s question, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ (John .) is not unreasonable from a historical perspective quite apart from the scriptures to which Philip referred: messianic claimants from Nazareth had caused some trouble (Jos. Ant. .; Acts .-). However, doubt as to whether good can come thence is swiftly laid to rest in the intimate encounter that follows: Jesus recognises Nathanael as ‘a true Israelite, in whom there is no treachery’, and Nathanael Jesus as, ‘The son of God; the King of Israel’. These mutual acknowledgements in trust and anticipated fidelity mirror the perfect relationship also between Israel and her God, which is often expressed biblically with the twofold ‘I–thou’ formula: ‘Thou shalt be my people’ and ‘I shall be thy God’. In both cases, the mutual, self-giving recognition binds each side in love and devotion to the other alone. Nathanael’s choice of words does not necessarily imply recognition at this stage of a person who is more than human, or who was before the world began. ‘Son of God’ and ‘King of Israel’ can both be understood in purely human terms. Jesus’ response, however, indicates how much more is involved: this Son of Man, however humanly Nathanael has understood him up to this point, promises to be perceived as the thoroughfare of divine revelation and, by probable allusion to Jacob’s ladder, the very locus of the vision of God. Thus far, Nathanael’s question, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ is answered without repetition of the keyword ‘good’ (ἀγαθόν), though the question is found to open onto a direct, intimate encounter with the divine, and one that is structured according to Jewish expectations of fidelity between Israel and God. Another term for ‘good’, however, καλόν, features prominently in the episode that immediately follows this meeting. The scene is a wedding; this resonates E. C. Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel (ed. F. N. Davey; vols.; London: Faber & Faber, ) .–. Cf. E. Norden, Agnostos Theos: Untersuchungen zur Formengeschichte Religiöser Rede (Stuttgart: Teubner, ) –. On the relationship between the so-called ‘covenant formula’ and the Shema: E. Aurelius, ‘Der Ursprung des Ersten Gebots’, VT () –.
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
with the intimate confession of trust between Nathanael, true Israelite, and Jesus, son of God, Israel’s holy king: that encapsulated the relationship between Israel and her God in the Hebrew bible, often portrayed there as marriage. The location for the wedding in John is Cana, which we later learn is Nathanael’s home town (John .). Politically, much as no good came from Nazareth, our (rather limited) evidence about Cana points to problems there also. Here, however, Jesus performs his first sign, and thus reveals his glory. What he does is to turn water into wine—and not just any wine, but, as the host ignorant of its source comments, ‘good wine’ (καλὸν οἶνον): ‘Every human being’, he says, ‘offers first the good wine (καλὸν οἶνον) and when the guests are drunk, the worse, but you have kept the good wine (καλὸν οἶνον) till now’ (John .). This abundant, miraculous provision of good wine recalls vivid depictions of the eschatological, materialistic experience of God’s goodness envisaged in earlier Jewish tradition, beginning in the OT. Amos reports God speaking of a time when the treader of grapes shall overtake the one who sows seed and the mountains shall drip sweet wine and all the hills shall flow with it. Cities are promised, where Israel will plant vineyards and drink their wine (Amos .-). Jeremiah writes vividly of how God’s people ‘shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion, and they shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord (ἐπ’ ἀγαθὰ κυρίου), over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall become like a watered garden, and they shall never languish again’ (Jer . [LXX .]). Baruch learns from God of extraordinary viticultural abundance and of the hungry seeing ‘marvels every day’ ( Bar .-). In Gen .-, the Messiah was interpreted as someone who would wash his garments in wine, his robes in the blood of grapes, and whose eyes would be darker than wine. Hengel also points out that ‘the wine-cup, pitcher, grape-leaf and grape appear frequently on the coins of the uprisings of – and –, which were motivated by eschatological-Messianic considerations’. The good wine at Cana, then, seems one sign that the messianic age is now here. John emphasises the significance of this moment by summarising: ‘This was the beginning of the signs Jesus did in Cana in Galilee and manifested his glory, and his disciples believed in him’ (John .). This is the first time that ‘glory’ has been mentioned since the prologue, where it was used programmatically in the statement: ‘the word became flesh and tabernacled among us and we E.g. Cant. passim; Isa .; .; Jer ., ; Ezek ; Hos –. Cana is likely to have been a Zealot stronghold in the war of – CE: Jos. Vita with A. Geyser, ‘The Semeion at Cana of the Galilee’, Studies in John: Presented to Professor Dr. J. N. Sevenster on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday (ed. A. Geyser; NovTSup ; Leiden: Brill, ) , . M. Hengel, Studies in Early Christology (Edinburgh: T.&T. Clark, ) . On materialism in Jewish eschatological hope: M. Weinfeld, ‘Jeremiah and the Spiritual Metamorphosis of Israel’, ZAW () n. .
JANE HEATH
beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten from the father, full of grace and truth’ (John .). That opening claim summarised John’s christology and indeed his gospel. At Sinai too God ‘tabernacled among’ the Israelites, first at the tent of meeting at Sinai and then through the building of the tabernacle there as his permanent dwelling place. At Sinai it was granted the Israelites to ‘behold his glory’, which was intended to ground their faith and obedience to the divine law (Exod .-). John develops his expression ‘full of grace and truth’ three verses later into a comparison of ‘grace and truth’ through Jesus with the gift of the law through Moses, and thus he suggests a comparison between Sinai where the law was given and the incarnation, wherein Jesus dwelt among us, ‘full of grace and truth’. Thus the first mention of ‘glory’ in the prologue associates it with the theophany at Sinai. The miracle at Cana is where glory is next mentioned in the gospel; John links the manifestation of glory to the sign consisting in good wine. God’s glory and his goodness are associated in a number of passages in the OT, but the most significant of these is again the Exodus account of Sinai. There Moses asked God to show him his glory ( ;)כבדךin Hebrew, God responded with the promise to make all his ‘goodness’ ( )כל־טוביpass before Moses; in the Greek, however, the LXX translator homogenised God’s response with Moses’ petition; he translated the Hebrew ‘I shall make all my goodness pass before you’ with the more personal, ‘I shall pass before you in my glory’ (τῇ δόξῃ μου, Exod .-). So in the prologue when John first mentions beholding divine glory in the incarnation, he evokes Sinai; the first time he picks this up in the gospel itself, the link between seeing the glory and seeing the goodness of God (realised here in the good things he gives through Jesus) develops the association. In these opening scenes ‘goodness’ associated with Jesus emerges as anything but banal or ‘colourless’. It receives definition but of a different kind from in the rich man pericope in the Synoptics. Unlike in that pericope the ‘luxury’ miracle at Cana implies no critique on material satisfaction. And yet, like in the rich man episode there is a challenge to interpreting goodness as mere material ease, for there is a poignant side to Cana. Jesus is not recognised; the goodness of his wine is not in doubt, but the host who acknowledges it does not acknowledge Jesus’ own goodness or recognise that this goodness is the goodness of God. The only ones who perceive Jesus’ glory are his disciples; by and large, his goodness is hidden. More darkly still, ‘my hour has not yet come’ points to when it does come, when Mary appears in the narrative for the second time but now at the foot of the cross. These aspects of humility and sombreness define an aspect of the
Brown, Gospel, .-. J. Ferreira, Johannine Ecclesiology (JSNTSup ; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ) . For John’s use of both LXX and Hebrew scriptures, see Barrett, Gospel, -. Some scholars think the blood and water from Jesus’ side at the cross recall the water made wine at Cana. This is plausible but not certain and is often associated with a strongly
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
call to ‘give up everything and follow’ Jesus which is less well drawn out in the rich man episode in the Synoptics because of their particular focus on wealth. John does not use the language of ‘give up everything and follow’, but Cana is integral to the call of the disciples since it is they who there first behold his glory in the good things he gives, and believe in him. .. ‘He is good (ἀγαθός)’ (John .) Scholars have noted a number of links between the early chapters of the gospel and the account of Tabernacles in ch. . Nathanael’s initial doubt, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ is recalled in the crowds’ doubt, ‘Surely the Christ does not come from Galilee?’; in both cases, the uncertainty is at least partly rooted in the use of scripture to identify the messiah (John .; cf. .). Secondly, Jesus’ brothers, before they urge him to manifest himself at Tabernacles, have only appeared once before: namely, when they were at Capernaum with him, his mother and disciples in .. They are as awkward about Tabernacles in ch. as his mother was about the wedding in ch. : they want him to manifest himself dramatically at the festivities, but he says his time has not yet come (John .; cf. .-). Thirdly, Cana is immediately followed by the episode where Jesus expels traders from the Temple; Ulfgard points out that this is a sign of the inauguration of the messianic age in accordance with Zech .; similarly, the appearance of Jesus at the Temple at Tabernacles offering fountains of living water marks the start of the messianic age, plausibly also drawing on images from Zech .. In these ways, then, when some of the crowds start to mutter, ‘He is good’, the scene is similar to one where Jesus’ ‘goodness’ has already been manifested and explored. But in other ways, the scene is different. It is the Feast of Tabernacles. Booths have been built in Jerusalem and eschatological expectation grows high: discussion among the crowds increasingly centres on whether ‘he’ is the messiah or not (John .-, , -). The comment ‘He is good’ is the one that opens the debate about Jesus at this festival. For readers of the gospel with the prologue, it has already been celebrated that the word became flesh and ‘tabernacled (ἐσκήνωσεν) among us and we have seen his glory’ (John .). For these readers, Jesus’ appearance in the flesh at the Feast of Tabernacles (σκηνοπηγία) evokes the divine ‘tabernacling’ of the word made flesh. To attentive readers, the crowds’ ‘He is good’ is a further answer to Nathanael’s question, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ in addition to the responses already given in John .–.. The depiction of the
sacramental reading of John. See, e.g., R. E. Brown, ‘The Johannine Sacramentary Reconsidered’, TS () –. Ulfgard, Story of Sukkot, –.
JANE HEATH
various things Jesus did at the Feast details the ‘goodness’ to which the crowd refers. It is manifested in manifold ways, but it is never to be seen apart from the goodness of God, who gave the tabernacles in the wilderness and whose word here tabernacles in flesh; whose teaching Jesus gives (John .-); whose glory Jesus seeks (v. ); whose law Jesus manifests to a point beyond visible circumcision in the flesh to the healing of the ‘whole man’ according to ‘true judgement’ (vv. -). God is Jesus’ whence and whither (vv. -, -), and the idea that Jesus will go to the Greeks of the diaspora only serves to evoke the eschatological manifestation of God’s kingship over all the earth (v. ; cf. Ps .; Isa ., ), while the streams offered by Jesus on the last day of the feast evoke the divinely granted fountains bestowed on the day of the Lord (vv. -; cf. Zech .). For the readers, then, ‘He is good’ depicts Jesus’ implication in God’s goodness. For those actually discussing ‘him’ in the streets of Jerusalem amidst the booths, John’s presentation suggests that neither his supporters nor his detractors fully understood Jesus. All real dialogue is between them, the different groups at the festival; the interweaving of their debate with Jesus’ own utterances is in the manner of antiphony, such that they do not attain to comprehending conversation with him. However, their lack of full comprehension does not imply that the crowds mean nothing but, ‘What a nice man!’ when they said ἀγαθός ἐστιν. The response that they provoke, that ‘He is leading the crowds astray’ has been traced by scholars to the accusation against a divisive seducer in Deut .-, as noted at the start of this essay. That passage in Deuteronomy dealt specifically with how to charge and penalise such a person; it is therefore significant in explaining why the Jews are seeking to kill Jesus in this chapter. If those who utter it are intentionally using the language of Deuteronomy, then that suggests that they, not only John’s readers, perceive the claim ‘He is good’ as something more than a casual ‘He is a pleasant sort’. Rather, they are then associating the attractive ‘goodness’ of Jesus with that of the Deuteronomic seducer who seeks to lead people astray ‘to other gods’. Certainly from the readers’ perspective, the division between the crowds places those crowdspeople too, not only Jesus, in the dock, and their division between the sentiments, ‘He is good’ and ‘He is leading the people astray’, recalls less Deuteronomy and more Deuteronomy , where the Israelites stand at the foot of Horeb and Moses articulates their choice between ‘good (ἀγαθόν) and evil’ (Deut .), warning them to be careful in making this choice not to be led astray (πλανηθείς) to bow down to other gods (Deut .). The association with that part of Deuteronomy is strengthened by Cf. A. Lincoln, Truth on Trial: The Lawsuit Motif in the Fourth Gospel (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ) –, , .
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
several other pointers in John to the scene at Mount Horeb. That was where Moses first gave the law and instituted the Feast of Tabernacles where it was to be read; so Jesus now expounds it at that same feast. Moses advised them, ‘the hidden things (τὰ κρυπτά) belong to the Lord our God, but the revealed things (τὰ ϕανερά) to us and to our children forever, to do all the things of this law’ (Deut .). This enigmatic verse was diversely interpreted in Judaism. The ‘hidden–revealed’ (κρυπτός − ϕανερός) pair is recalled in Jesus’ brothers’ frustration with his hiddenness and in his own compunction about being revealed just yet. He goes to the festival ‘hidden’ (ἐν κρυπτῷ)— and this is not the hiddenness of the silent, for he stands in the middle of the Temple and cries out the truth, but the hiddenness of what belongs to the Lord and is not yet revealed in a way that the Israelites may ‘do’ it faithfully (cf. Deut .). Further, Moses said that the Lord would gather his people if they turned to him (Deut .-); Jesus offers the presence of God to gather them into one—but they are divided about him. Moses promised that God would one day circumcise their hearts to make them obedient (Deut .), while Jesus teaches the will of God (John .) and heals the whole man in truth, explicitly opposing this to the merely visible and partial healing of the circumcision (John .-). Finally, when the Pharisees rebuke their officials at the end of the chapter for not bringing Jesus, their accusation is: Surely you have not been led astray (πεπλάνησθε) too? None of the rulers or Pharisees has believed in him, have they? But this crowd, which does not know the law, they are under a curse. (John .-)
The term πεπλάνησθε, followed by the reference to the crowd, picks up the language of the debates the crowds were having in secret, when they did not want the Jews to hear (John .-). The Pharisees comment that crowds led astray are ignorant of the law and under a curse; the close association of ‘leading astray’ with the law and curse recalls Deuteronomy – where the curses and blessings for obeying or defying the commandments are set out, and where the warnings to choose good not evil and not to be led astray are proclaimed. This close to the Johannine scene, then, makes explicit the allusion that was implicit when the dispute in the crowds was first mentioned. When the crowds say, ‘He is good’, the term ‘good’ is coloured by the character of ‘goodness’ in Deuteronomy. The adjective ‘good’ (Greek: ἀγαθός) is frequently E.g. Wis .; .; Macc .; B. Z. Wacholder, ‘The “Sealed” Torah versus the “Revealed” Torah: An Exegesis of Damascus Covenant V, – and Jeremiah , -’, RevQ () –; A. Shemes and C. Werman, ‘Hidden Things and Their Revelation’, RevQ () –. The pair is picked up in Christianity: Matt .-; Mark . // Luke .; Rom .-; Cor .; .; Cor .; Eph .-; Col .; .; Iren. Adv. Haer. . (Harvey Praef. p. ).
JANE HEATH
repeated in the book of Deuteronomy, mostly appearing in the combination ‘good land’, thus indicating the material rewards that God will provide for Israel in his goodness. John emphasises not possessions but certainly the gift of healing and the ‘signs’ Jesus does, both of which are gifts bestowed for the near side of eternity. However, in Deuteronomy, the attractiveness of material satisfaction is never far from the deeper satisfaction of a relationship of mutual (if unequal and incommensurable) fidelity and love, in which such materialistic hopes are fulfilled: God gives good things to his faithful people who love him alone, otherwise he will take away those good things and curse that people. Similarly in John , questions of personal fidelity are palpable behind the divisions; the crowds are increasingly explicit about their suspicion that Jesus is the messiah, and the officials accused of being led astray like the crowds (μὴ καὶ ὑμεῖς…;) are the ones who do not bring Jesus because οὐδέποτε ἐλάλησεν οὕτως ἄνθρωπος (John .). Standard Bible translations render this, ‘No one ever spoke like this man’, which avoids amphiboly, but the use of ἄνθρωπος in such an unemphatic way is strange—we would expect rather a phrase with οὐδείς. The word ἄνθρωπος, however, allows a richer theological reading: ‘No human being ever spoke thus’. What the Jews feared in John . was that Jesus was making himself ‘as great as God’; it is plausible that they hear this nuance in what the officials say, and that they associate it with the crowds’ impression of Jesus. As in John –, then, it is unlikely that readers are intended to find ‘He is good’ a mere banality in John .. The crowds were debating whether Jesus was manifesting both the material and personal goodness of God, or seducing them as a deceiver. ‘He is good’ cannot be uttered lightly in this context, for though it testifies to this-worldly attractiveness and personal relationship to God, it is also dangerous. For the Jews who confess ‘He is good’, there is a risk that they are (or will be perceived to be) putting their faith in a person who is ‘leading astray’ and who therefore deserves stoning, together with his followers. For Jesus himself, this threat is vividly real. Again, those who recognise Jesus as ‘good’ and perceive that that is closely implicated in the goodness of God, are not called simply to give up their material possessions and follow him as in the Synoptic encounter with the rich man, but to share in his poignant lack of dialogue with the world, his hiddenness and endurance of the threat of stoning from his own religious community, standing firm because he is irreducibly ‘true’ as well as good: amidst the dispute, he proclaims, ‘he who seeks the glory of the one who sent him is true and there is no injustice in him’ (John .). E.g. Deut ., ; .; .; .; ., ; ., ; .; .-. A similar nuance is plausible in John . in the light of other resonances of the verse. For the allusion to glory at Tabernacles, see above, p. .
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b) .. ‘I am the good (καλός) shepherd’ (John ., ); ‘For which good (καλόν) deed do you put me to death?’ (cf. John .)
After Tabernacles, the adjective ἀγαθός for Jesus drops out but καλός occurs several times in the discourse of the ‘good shepherd’. Already in the opening of the gospel καλὸν οἶνον interpreted Nathanael’s τί ἀγαθόν. Much scholarly attention has been paid to the image of the ‘good shepherd’ in ch. . This makes it all the more surprising that the shepherd’s epithet has received very little comment. For example, discussions of the relationship of the Johannine passage to the OT have shown significant links to texts about ‘shepherds’, especially Ezek and Ps ; but such links serve to underline that in applying the adjective ‘good’ to the shepherd four times, John creates a descriptive title that is unparalleled in the OT. Again, studies of the relationship of John to the Synoptics have drawn out likely interaction, especially with the Synoptic passion narratives and shepherd parables; but John’s treatment of the ‘good shepherd’ also stands in striking contrast to Synoptic treatment of the ‘good teacher’: in John, Jesus speaks of himself to his disciples four times emphatically as ‘good shepherd’ (ὁ ποιμὴν ὁ καλός); in Mark and Luke on the other hand, when a would-be disciple addresses him ‘good teacher’ (διδάσκαλε ἀγαθέ), Jesus rounds on him to challenge his use of the epithet. Jesus’ first definition or elaboration of ‘I am the good shepherd’ is, ‘The good shepherd offers his life on behalf of the sheep’ (John .). The phrase ὑπὲρ τῶν προβάτων conveys the distinctive character and purpose of Jesus’ death; it is not a mere ceasing to be, but a death for the sheep; similarly, Jesus gives his flesh ‘for the life of the world’ (ὑπὲρ τῆς τοῦ κόσμου ζωῆς, John .), and fulfils the high priest’s prophecy that ‘one man’ should die ‘for the people, and the whole nation should not die’ (ὑπὲρ τοῦ λαοῦ; ὑπὲρ τοῦ ἔθνους [twice], John .-). Earlier in The one exception of which I am aware is Neyrey, ‘Noble Shepherd’. Neyrey claims that καλός has a substantially different nuance from ἀγαθός here, and is to be considered an assertion of Jesus’ ‘nobility’ in a culture keenly concerned with issues of guilt and shame. I argued against Neyrey’s sharp differentiation between καλός and ἀγαθός above (pp. -). His analysis of John is also problematic as he paraphrases John’s text in order to find there the categories of the progymnasmata, and in doing so he substantially alters its nuances, e.g. ‘justice’ (δικαιοσύνη) is not mentioned in John , but Neyrey analyses the shepherd’s knowledge of his sheep, love and other characteristics as marks of the duty or virtue of justice. E.g. Barrett, ‘Old Testament’, ; J. Beutler, ‘Der alttestamentlich-jüdische Hintergrund der Hirtenrede in Johannes ’, The Shepherd Discourse of John and its Context (ed. J. Beutler and R. T. Fortna; SNTS.MS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –; R. Zimmermann, ‘Jesus im Bild Gottes: Anspielungen auf das Alte Testament im Johannesevangelium am Beispiel der Hirtenbildfelder in Joh ’, Kontexte des Johannesevangeliums: Das vierte Evangelium in religions- und traditionsgeschichtlicher Perspektive (ed. Frey and Schnelle) –. Esp. M. Sabbe, ‘John and its Relationship to the Synoptic Gospels’, The Shepherd Discourse of John and its Context (ed. Beutler and Fortna) –.
JANE HEATH
the gospel, Jesus’ death has been implicated in his ‘goodness’ but it is his gifts of good things that have been especially in view. In John .-, although Jesus is the gate to pasture and life (vv. -), his role as ‘the good shepherd’ is strongly focussed on his death (vv. -). Jesus contrasts ‘the good shepherd’ not with ‘the bad shepherd’ but with ‘the hired man’. As in the case of ‘thieves’ (cf. John .-), so in the case of the ‘hired man’, the distinctive characteristic of his relationship to the sheep is that they are ‘not his own’ (οὐκ ἔστιν τὰ πρόβατα ἴδια). For Jesus, this explains why the hired man does not lay down his life for the sheep when the wolf comes (John .-). The personal, intimate knowledge, as between a good shepherd and his own flocks, is what the hired man lacks. This is one of the aspects of the good shepherd discourse that recalls Jesus’ encounter with Nathanael, which first interpreted how Jesus is τι ἀγαθόν. Under a fig tree the king of Israel recognised a true Israelite and a true Israelite recognised the king of Israel (John .); ‘I know my own and my own know me’ says the good shepherd (John .). The resonance is enhanced by the close association between shepherd imagery and kings in antiquity, not least in OT passages on which John draws in ch. (Ezek ). Nathanael also said, ‘You are the son of God’ (John .); this receives express response for the first time in John ., when Jesus says to the Jews, ‘I said I was the Son of God’. Nathanael’s knowledge is thus acknowledged on the lips of the good shepherd. In Jesus’ encounter with Nathanael, literary form and phrasing suggested the I–Thou relationship of God to Israel, especially when Jesus underscored that he was himself, as ladder to the angels, the locus of divine revelation. Similarly, mutual knowledge between sheep and good shepherd implicates the sheep in an analogous relationship to God (‘just as the father knows me and I know the father’, John .a). It is not only καλὸν οἶνόν then, nor even ἀγαθός ἐστιν, but also ὁ ποιμὴν ὁ καλός that interprets and responds to Nathanael’s τί ἀγαθόν. The twin themes of ownership and knowledge that distinguish the good shepherd receive a fresh focus in the discussion of unity: ‘And I have other sheep which are not from this fold; I must bring them too and they will listen to my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd’ (John .). The ‘one flock, one shepherd’ (μία ποίμνη εἷς ποιμήν) emphasises ‘one-ness’ by repetition of ‘one’ (μία, εἷς) and also by the assonance of the cognate terms, ποίμνη, ποιμήν. This vocation to unity is an eschatological hope to realise an ideal that was once enshrined in the unity of the Temple cult and continued to be celebrated in the daily recitation of the Shema. It is the role of the good shepherd to establish that unity, just as it was Jesus’ response to the rich man who addressed him as a ‘good teacher’ to seek to establish unity around the Shema, confessing only one who is good, God. C. T. R. Hayward, ‘“The Lord is One”: Reflections on the Theme of Unity in John’s Gospel from a Jewish Perspective’, Early Jewish and Christian Monotheism (ed. L. T. Stuckenbruck and W. E. S. North; JSNTSup ; London/New York: T&T Clark, ) –.
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
Finally, the good shepherd’s act of laying down his life in order to take it up again is described as grounding God’s love of him (John .) and as grounded in authority (v. ab), as a command received from the father (v. c). This is the first time in John’s gospel that the language of ‘command’ appears at all. In the Synoptic rich man pericope commandments are important because Jesus’ first response to the question about inheriting eternal life, which is put him as a ‘good teacher’, is to instruct obedience to the Ten Commandments. In John, Jesus does not emphasise those commandments at all. The language of ‘command’ is used in other ways, first for the father’s command to the good shepherd (John .); then for his command to Jesus concerning what to say, which is eternal life (John .-). It is also used for Jesus’ commands to his disciples, which focus on love of one another and of him so as to bind them in a nexus of relationships to one another, to him and to the father; these relationships are diversely characterised in terms of mimesis, analogy, reciprocation (the three are not always easy to distinguish: often the keyword is καθώς, e.g. John .; ., ); love (.); and obedience (.; .). These commands are only given to those who already know Jesus in some measure. They are more akin to the conclusion to the rich man pericope, ‘Give up everything and follow me’, than they are to Jesus’ instruction upon first encounter with the rich man. At John . the scene changes from the vicinity of Siloam where the blind man was healed (ch. ) to Jesus strolling in the Stoa of Solomon at the Feast of Dedication in winter. Jesus continues to use the language and concepts of the good shepherd discourse to explain why the crowds do not believe: it is ‘because you are not of my sheep’ (John .): they do not belong to him, whereas the good shepherd’s sheep know him because they are his (John .). Here at last he makes a bold christological claim of the magnitude of John .: ‘I and the father are one’ (John .). The Jews pick up stones in response: this recalls the penalty in Deut . for the deceiver who leads Israel astray to other gods, thus evoking the debate at Tabernacles about whether Jesus is ‘good’ (ἀγαθός) or ‘leading the crowd astray’. Jesus challenges the Jews now about the goodness of his deeds:
Similarly, the Nash papyrus associates the Ten Commandments with the Shema. See: W. F. Albright, ‘A Biblical Fragment from the Maccabaean Age: The Nash Papyrus’, JBL () –. See further: R. Hirsch-Luipold, ‘Prinzipiell-theologische Ethik in der johanneischen Literatur’, Jenseits von Indikativ und Imperativ (ed. F. W. v. Horn and R. Zimmermann; Kontexte und Normen neutestamentlicher Ethik / Contexts and Norms of New Testament Ethics I; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –. The diction of John .b also resonates with the good shepherd’s language of ‘putting [down]’ and ‘taking up’ his own life (., , -). Above, pp. –, –.
JANE HEATH
‘Many good works (ἔργα καλά) I showed you from the father; what deed is it for which you are stoning me?’ The Jews answered him, ‘What we are stoning you for is not to do with a good work (περὶ καλοῦ ἔργου), but with blasphemy, and because you, being a human being, are making yourself (a) god’. (John .-)
‘Good works’ (καλὰ ἔργα), correspond to the ‘good works’ ( )מעׂשים טביםthat played an important role both in Jewish piety and in early Christian tradition. They include things like visiting the sick, hospitality to strangers and preparing the dead for burial. Jesus prescribed them (Matt .; .-), performed them, and encouraged them (Mark . parr.), although he also challenged the Jewish concept of what constituted a ‘good work’. Most parts of the NT draw attention to ‘good works’, using ἀγαθά and καλά indiscriminately in this context. Some scholars differentiate this kind of ‘good work’ sharply from the Johannine ‘good works’ that Jesus ‘showed’ (ἔδειξα) from the father; they argue that John is speaking of revelation in contradistinction to the emphasis on human piety elsewhere in the NT. But John is not using a wholly different category to convey the unity between Jesus and God; rather, he is seeking a deeper reflection on traditional categories of Jewish piety in order better to understand both Jesus and God. In John .-, Jesus seeks to reverse the relative significance of the statements about his good deeds and his claim to divinity respectively. He rejects his accusers’ perspectives both that the goodness of the deeds is irrelevant to the debate about him, and that making himself God is a significant accusation in itself. He cites as ‘law’ the psalm where God says, ‘You are gods’ (Ps .). By this he urges that finding gods and Son of God on earth is nothing remarkable. By diminishing attention to those mere words, he throws into greater relief the importance of the goodness of his deeds. By believing the deeds, they may know the unity between Jesus and his father (‘The father is in me and I in the father’, John .). Thus Jesus suggests that his own ‘goodness’ is more important christologically than this crowd of Jews perceives; it is not (as they think) irrelevant to the redefinition of monotheism conveyed in the claim that ‘I and my father are one’ (John .). In ch. the key term has shifted from ἀγαθός to καλός, but the theme is not very different from in earlier scenes. When the crowds at Tabernacles were divided about whether Jesus was ἀγαθός or a deceiver, the former party were probably thinking of him primarily as a doer of ‘good deeds’, much as Jesus says of himself to the Jews seeking to stone him in .-. But after his debate with the Jews, those of the crowds who are attentive to what Jesus does are able to say more: many come to him across the Jordan and start to assert that Above, p. with n. . Luke . cf. Matt .-, discussed in Grundmann, ‘καλός’, . Grundmann, ‘καλός’, n. ; K. H. Rengstorf, ‘σημεῖον etc.’, TDNT () n. .
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
what John the Baptist said about him was true (John .). John the Baptist had said that Jesus surpassed him because he was before him (John .), which could be interpreted as a reference to pre-existence, resonating with Jesus’ own claim to be the son of God (John .). The supportive crowdsfolk are not explicit in making such great claims; they are more like Matthew, who avoided saying that Jesus was ἀγαθός as God is ὁ ἀγαθός, only to say that Jesus is τέλειος and to imply that in that he is as God (above, pp. –). The Johannine crowds’ and Matthew’s reflection on the ‘goodness’ of Jesus point in a christological direction that the Johannine Jesus developed much further.
. Conclusion
‘Some people were saying, “He is good”’; ‘Why do you call me “good”? No one is good but God alone.’ If one of the people who said, ‘He is good’ (John .) were the rich man of the Synoptics, then Jesus’ response, reformulated and represented by John, would imply not Jesus’ sinfulness or separation from God, but the impossibility of calling him good except insofar as that describes God’s words and work manifest in him. Beyond that, it would differ from the response in the Synoptics in two especially marked ways. First, the emphasis on obedience to commandments has shifted from the Ten Commandments handed over at Sinai to the imperative to ‘love’ in a way that is modelled on and binding to Jesus and the father, in ‘grace and truth’. It is more of the order of ‘If you want to be perfect . . . follow me!’ (Matt . cf. Mark .; Luke .) than of ‘You know the [Ten] Commandments’ (Mark . // Luke .; cf. Matt .-). Secondly, where the Synoptics problematise possessions, John does not seek to do this. His has been described as an ‘aristocratic’ gospel; the first manifestation of Jesus’ goodness is the luxury miracle of the ‘good wine’ at Cana; John alone appreciates the smell of the expensive ointment with which Jesus is anointed (John .); the upper stratum of society in general plays a comparatively significant role in John. Nowhere does John utter polemic against riches as such. Yet, although John does not problematise possessions, giving up everything and following Jesus, as the rich man is asked to do, is not made any easier than in the Synoptics. If anything, the shift of focus away from possessions makes it harder still. For John’s depiction of Jesus’ goodness ties it closely to themes of non-recognition, danger, and death, and underscores that it cannot be divided Thanks to Ruth Edwards for pointing this out to me. The only remaining time that καλ– vocabulary is used for Jesus is in John .; however, the expression καλῶς λαλέω refers to ‘true’ or ‘right’ rather than to ‘good’ speech (cf. John .; .; .), so it is appropriate to omit this adverbial use from the present discussion. Hengel, Studies, , citing John .-; .-; .; ; .; .-.
JANE HEATH
from those obligations. As good shepherd, Jesus chooses to lay down his life for the sheep and it is because of this kind of death that his father loves him. The water changed to wine is not just ‘cheap’ luxury, but abundant riches given ahead of time by the one whose side shed water and blood on the cross, and the reader learns that the former gift was not possible without the latter. The difference in emphasis between the Synoptics and John is in this respect a difference in emphasis between different parts of the Jewish promise to love the ‘one god’, articulated in the Shema. ְׁשַמע יִ ְׂש ˕רֵאל יְהו˕ה ֱאׂלֵהינוּ יְהו˕ה ֶא ˕חד׃ וְ ˕אַהְב ּ˕ת ֵאח יְהו˕הֱאׂלֶהיך˕ ְּב ˕כלְֿל ˕בְבך˕ וְּב˕כלֿנְַפְׁשך˕ וְּב ˕כלְֿמׂאֶדך˕ ׃ Listen, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one, Thou shalt love the Lord your God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy strength (Deut .-)
Strength ( )ְמׂאדwas frequently interpreted as ‘possessions’; this is the kind of love that Jesus underscores to the rich man in the Synoptics, when he objects to being called ‘good’ because εἷς ὁ θεός as in the Shema, and then tells the man to sell his possessions. Loving God with heart and soul/life, however, suggests the kind of love that Jesus particularly underscores in John, where as good shepherd he lays down his life (ψυχή) for the sheep; it is this kind of love that Christians are to imitate, as the dark note ringing throughout the depiction of his goodness suggests. It is plausible that John was interacting with the Synoptic tradition in his presentation of Jesus as ‘good’, shifting the emphasis to underscore that Jesus is ‘good’ inasmuch as God is seen in him; and shifting the emphasis with regard to discipleship from an issue of wealth to an issue of humility and danger, from loving God with my property to loving God with my soul or life. Finally, in addition to the Synoptic comparison, many scholars have suggested that John’s portrayal of Jesus in general is strongly influenced by wisdom traditions, not least in John . In respect of his goodness, we might in the light
LXX: ἄκουϵ Iσραηλ κύριος ὁ θϵὸς ἡμῶν κύριος ϵἷς ϵ̓στιν καὶ ἀγαπήσϵις κύριον τὸν θϵόν σου ϵ̓ξ ὅλης τῆς καρδίας σου καὶ ϵ̓ξ ὅλης τῆς ψυχῆς σου καὶ ϵ̓ξ ὅλης τῆς δυνάμϵώς σου
Hayward, ‘“The Lord is One,”’ , citing QS col. vi, ll. -; Sifre Deut. ; m. Ber. .; Targ. Ps-J and Targ. Neof. of Deut .. Among modern scholars, e.g. Brown, Gospel, .CXXII–CXXVII, -; J. D. G. Dunn, ‘Let John Be John: A Gospel for its Time’, The Gospel and the Gospels (ed. P. Stuhlmacher; Grant Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) –; M. Fishbane, ‘The Well of Living Water: A Biblical Motif and Its Ancient Transformations’, Sha’arei Talmon: Studies in the Bible, Qumran, and the Ancient Near East presented to Shemaryahu Talmon (ed. M. Fishbane and E. Tov; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, ) –, esp. -; S. H. Ringe, Wisdom’s Friends: Community and Christology in the Fourth Gospel (Louiseville, KY: Westminster John Knox, ); C. Bennema, The Power of Saving Wisdom: An Investigation of Spirit and Wisdom in Relation to the Soteriology of the Fourth gospel (WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ). The
‘Some were saying, “He is good”’ (John .b)
of this recall again Wis .-, quoted above, where wisdom is described as ‘image of God’s goodness; being one she is powerful for many things, she enters holy souls in each generation and makes them friends of God and prophets’. This may seem at first sight a close correlate to John’s application of ‘good’ to Jesus, but Jesus is more personal, more concrete, and unlike wisdom is subject to a death without which his ‘goodness’ cannot be properly conveyed. John avoids the term εἰκών entirely; Jesus is not the image or likeness of God’s goodness in John, but rather he is ‘good’. The good that comes from Nazareth is encountered personally and directly in him and in what he does, says and gives. The proper counterpart to his unity is not his power to do many things (though he does do them) but rather it is that he will gather his ‘own’. This is not achieved by entering holy souls without further ado, but rather it depends on his death as ‘good shepherd’. His goodness is thus known in the context of alterity and in mortality that is fully subject to God’s will and command. Whether one compares the Johannine ascription of ‘goodness’ to Jesus with the Synpotics or with Wisdom, it emerges as anything but banal or ‘colourless’. Considered within the gospel context itself, Martyn is right that the crowds’ comment, ‘He is good’ does not spell out a challenge to monotheism in the way that John . does, but it is a christologically significant claim, and for the reader who has John’s whole literary presentation of Jesus’ ministry to hand, it develops the depiction of a relationship of Jesus to God in which their shared ‘goodness’ becomes both a theological and an ethical challenge.
association of John with Wisdom is much older: for the medieval cult, J. F. Hamburger, St. John the Divine: The Deified Evangelist in Medieval Art and Theology (Berkeley/London: University of California, ) –. This point was kindly brought to my attention by Reinhard Feldmeier and Rainer HirschLuipold.
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S002868851000010X
Mutual Brokers of Grace: A Study in 2 Corinthians 1.3-11* DAV I D B R I O N E S Durham University, Abbey House, Palace Green, Durham DH1 3RS, UK. email:
[email protected]
The brokerage relationship has been applied as a model to various passages in the NT. Surprisingly, only a few scholars have applied it to the Pauline corpus. Among them is Stephan Joubert, who uses the model to paint a very hierarchical portrait of Paul’s apostleship in the Corinthian Correspondence. Against Joubert, this essay will demonstrate that, when the brokerage model is applied to Cor .-, a characteristic relational pattern in the economy of grace emerges, one which is marked by interpersonal solidarity and a mutual channelling of χάρις. This discovery, however, only appears when the ‘unfitting’ nature of the model is acknowledged. Keywords: Paul, Corinthians , patronage, brokerage, mutuality, apostleship, grace
. Introduction
Systems of reciprocity, such as Roman patronage (patrocinium) and Greek benefaction (euergetism), not only dominated the Mediterranean world but also
* Many thanks are due to Professor John Barclay, as well as Wesley Hill, Peter Orr, Orrey McFarland, and Jonathan Linebaugh for their helpful comments on earlier drafts of this essay. Since this essay focuses on a relationship (brokerage) which is to be found within the system of Roman patronage, it need not provide a detailed analysis of whether Roman patronage and Greek benefaction are two separate or identical entities. Although some NT scholars affirm the divide between the two (e.g., S. Joubert, ‘One Form of Social Exchange or Two? “Euergetism,” Patronage, and New Testament Studies—Roman and Greek Ideas of Patronage’, BTB [] –), most classicists are reluctant to separate patronage and benefaction (cf. C. Eilers, Roman Patrons of Greek Cities [Oxford: Oxford University, ] –; N. Jones, Rural Athens under the Democracy [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, ] –; J. Nicols, ‘Pliny and the Patronage of Communities’, Hermes [] – at –). For a critical engagement with the differing perspectives among NT scholars, see J. Marshall, Jesus, Patrons, and Benefactors: Roman Palestine and the Gospel of Luke (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) nn. , ; –; E. D. MacGillivray, ‘Re-evaluating Patronage and Reciprocity in Antiquity and New Testament Studies’, JGRChJ () –
Mutual Brokers of Grace
currently pervade the world of NT studies, from the Gospels, throughout the Epistles, and reaching to the early church fathers. But this should come as no surprise. For several decades, scholars have used systems of reciprocity as interpretive frameworks to analyse and explain gift-exchange relationships embedded within particular social structures, norms, and values. However, specifically residing under the rubric of Roman patronage is a lesser-known relationship, one which has been largely overlooked by Pauline scholars. Broadly speaking, it introduces a third party into the patron–client alliance, an intermediary who distributes the goods of the patron to the client and likewise mediates the reciprocating return of the client back to the patron. It is called brokerage, and it is this model which will be the focus of this study. Although many have deployed this cultural model in the attempt to elucidate the writings of the NT, the only concentrated application of brokerage in Pauline
at –; C. Osiek, ‘The Politics of Patronage and the Politics of Kinship: The Meeting of the Ways’, BTB () –, esp. . See n. below. A. Batten, ‘God in the Letter of James: Patron or Benefactor?’, The Social World of the New Testament (ed. J.H. Neyrey and E. Steward; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ) –; J. Chow, Patronage and Power: A Study of Social Networks in Corinth (JSNTSup ; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ); J. H. Neyrey, ‘God, Benefactor and Patron’, JSNT () – ; J. Whitlark, Enabling Fidelity to God: Perseverance in Hebrews in Light of Reciprocity Systems in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, ). R. Williams, ‘Charismatic Patronage and Brokerage: Episcopal Leadership in the Letters of Ignatius of Antioch’ (PhD diss., University of Ottawa, ); Williams, ‘Bishops as Brokers of Heavenly Goods: Ignatius to the Ephesians’, Life and Culture in the Ancient Near East (ed. R. Averbeck et al.; Bethesda, MD: CDL, ) –. J. Elliot, ‘Patronage and Clientage’, The Social Sciences and New Testament Interpretation (ed. R. Rohrbaugh; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ) – at . For objections raised against the current use of patronage as a model, especially among prominent social-scientific interpreters, see MacGillivray, ‘Re-evaluating Patronage’, –; D. J. Downs, ‘Is God Paul’s Patron? The Economy of Patronage in Pauline Theology’, Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Reception (ed. B. W. Longenecker and K. D. Liebengood; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) –. Worth noting is an insightful remark made by Richard Saller, that the patron–broker–client relationship has been considered to be most relevant for the study of Mediterranean society during the Roman Empire (Personal Patronage under the Early Empire [Cambridge: Cambridge University, ] ). The majority focus on Johannine literature (e.g., B. Malina, The Social World of Jesus and the Gospels [London: Routledge, ] –; T. G. Brown, Spirit in the Writings of John [JSNTSS ; London: T&T Clark, ]; R. Piper, ‘Glory, Honour and Patronage in the Fourth Gospel: Understanding the Doxa Given to Disciples in John ’, Social Scientific Models for Interpreting the Bible: Essays by the Context Group in Honour of Bruce J. Malina [ed. J. Pilch; Leiden: Brill, ] –; Neyrey, Glory, –; Neyrey, ‘Worship in the Fourth Gospel: A Cultural Interpretation of John –’, BTB [] –; Neyrey, ‘“I Am the Door” [John .,
DAVID BRIONES
studies—to the best of my knowledge—is a short essay written by Stephan Joubert. In this essay, Joubert contends that Paul’s apostolic authority in the Corinthian Correspondence contains two aspects. On the one hand, he is the authoritative paterfamilias of the Corinthian household and, on the other, a relational, earthly broker of heavenly patrons (i.e., God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit). This two-sided apostolic construct creates a single, authoritative sphere in which he oscillates between ‘hierarchical and intimate aspects of his patriarchal role’, depending, of course, on the state of his relationship with the community. If chastisement was needed, he enforces his hierarchical authority; if encouragement, then he emphasizes his interpersonal solidarity. Nevertheless, any appearance of egalitarian terminology in and Corinthians, such as ‘brothers’ or ‘partners and fellow workers’, must not be understood as signifying a reality. For Joubert, this terminology only ‘masked a relationship other than the one they implied, since these persons were in fact not his equals. They were socially inferior to him, because he had the authority to command their obedience’. But does the ability to command necessarily imply that Paul, as Joubert insists, ‘at all times, claimed the superordinate position for himself’, or that expressions of mutuality functioned solely as beguiling disguises? In contrast to this use of the brokerage model to arrive at a solely hierarchical conclusion on Paul’s apostleship, this essay will probe Cor .- with the same heuristic tool, only in a completely different manner from Joubert. I will apply the model loosely, allowing Paul to speak within it and yet permitting him to break out
]: Jesus the Broker in the Fourth Gospel’, CBQ [] –). But some apply the model to Luke–Acts (e.g., Moxnes, ‘Patron–Client Relations’) and Hebrews (e.g., D. de Silva, ‘Exchanging Favor for Wrath: Apostasy in Hebrews and Patron–Client Relationships’, JBL [] –; Whitlark, Enabling Fidelity to God). Various works that briefly allude to the practice of brokerage include: Z. Crook, Reconceptualising Conversion: Patronage, Loyalty, and Conversion in the Religions of the Ancient Mediterranean (BZNW ; New York: W. de Gruyter, ) –; idem, ‘The Divine Benefactions of Paul the Client’, JGRChJ (–) – at ; S. Joubert, Paul as Benefactor: Reciprocity, Strategy and Theological Reflection in Paul’s Collection (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) –; B. Malina and J. H. Neyrey, Portraits of Paul: An Archaeology of Ancient Personality (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, ) ; Neyrey, ‘God, Benefactor and Patron’, –; M. MacDonald, Colossians and Ephesians (SP ; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, ) . S. Joubert, ‘Managing the Household: Paul as Paterfamilias of the Christian Household Group in Corinth’, Modelling Early Christianity: Social-Scientific Studies of the New Testament in Its Context (ed. P. Esler; London: Routledge, ) –. Joubert, ‘Managing the Household’, . Joubert, ‘Managing the Household’, . My italics. Joubert, ‘Managing the Household’, . My italics.
Mutual Brokers of Grace
from it. For had Joubert noted the ways in which the brokerage model fails to ‘fit’ this passage—a passage precisely within the Corinthian Correspondence—he would have arrived at a different conclusion. Nevertheless, to say that this model does not exactly ‘fit’ the text does not therefore render it useless. On the contrary, I intend to demonstrate how it indeed fits the intricate relationship between God, Paul, and the Corinthians, to some degree. However, I will also argue that from the ‘unfitting’ parts of this text emerges the uniquely Pauline articulation of relationships ‘in Christ’. To meet this end, I will first describe the relational dynamics of the patron–broker–client alliance, before applying the model to Cor .-. I will then draw out the ‘fitting’ and ‘unfitting’ parts of the text and pinpoint three misshapen pieces which together convey a characteristic relational pattern within the economy of χάρις.
. The Brokerage Model under the Rubric of Roman Patronage
.. Roman Patronage Patronage is truly a complicated web of affairs that lends itself to limitless variations and distinctions, largely because it ‘shares characteristics with other categories of relations into which it merges’. This makes it nearly impossible to pin This methodology seeks to avoid the prevalent tendency of model-based approaches, where one’s conclusions are predetermined or confined by the constraints of the model. In this regard, David Horrell warns NT scholars of the ‘serious weaknesses and dangers’ of such an approach, particularly ‘in its tendency to impose the model upon the evidence’. To this, Horrell candidly states that ‘a merely pragmatic assertion that the model “works” cannot obviate these deeper problems’ (‘Models and Methods in Social-Scientific Interpretation: A Response to Philip Esler’, JSNT [] –; cf. also Horrell, ‘Whither Social-Scientific Approaches to New Testament Interpretation? Reflections on Contested Methodologies and the Future’, After the First Urban Christians: The Social-Scientific Study of Pauline Christianity Twenty-Five Years Later [ed. T. D. Still and D. G. Horrell; London/New York: T&T Clark, ] –). For significant works on Roman patrocinium, consult Eilers, Roman Patrons; G. E. M. de Ste. Croix, ‘Suffragium: From Vote to Patronage’, BJS () –; Marshall, Jesus; J. Touloumakos, ‘Zum römischen Gemeindepatronat im griechischen Osten’, Hermes () –; K. Verboven, The Economy of Friends: Economic Aspects of Amicitia and Patronage in the Late Republic (Brussels: Latomus, ); T. Mommsen, ‘Das römische Gastrecht und die römische Clientel’, Römische Forschungen ( vols.; Berlin, –) .–; Nicols, ‘Pliny and the Patronage’. Helpful studies on socio-historical patronage include: S. W. Schmidt et al., eds., Friends, Followers and Factions: A Reader in Political Clientelism (Berkeley, CA: University of California, ); Saller, Personal Patronage; S. Eisenstadt and L. Roniger, Patrons, Clients and Friends: Interpersonal Relations and the Structure of Trust in Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ); A. Wallace-Hadrill, ed., Patronage in Ancient Society (London: Routledge, ); E. Gellner and J. Waterbury, eds., Patrons and Clients in Mediterranean Societies (London: Duckworth, ). Saller, Personal Patronage, .
DAVID BRIONES
down one definition of patronage, as attested to by the perennial debate between social historians and classicists. Although differing opinions abound on this matter, a detailed analysis of the discussion cannot be recapitulated here, especially since an agreed upon definition of patronage is still pending. What is necessary to mention, before describing the brokerage model, are some general characteristics of a patron–client relationship which classicists and social historians equally affirm: (a)
(b)
Patron–client relationships are comprised of individuals possessing unequal social statuses and degrees of power. The patron held the dominant position over the client, possessing the tangible means to express his influence by meeting the needs of the less fortunate. In exchange, the client, though unable to reciprocate in kind, provided the patron with any help he might require. Patron–client relationships entail an exchange of different types of resources. The patron provides what the client needs (social, economic, and political resources); while the client returns what the patron desires (honour, loyalty, political allegiance, and public gratitude). As such, each participant supplies the other from their own resources.
Nicols, ‘Pliny and Patronage’, : ‘Few historians would disagree with the statement that patronage is one of the most important, and yet elusive bonds in Roman society… [I]t is not easy to define what patronage is’. At the heart of the issue is the source for scholars’ varying definitions. Classicists develop their definition of Roman patrocinium from ancient sources, while social historians propose a transcultural definition of patronage. The most notable, yet highly criticized, socio-historical definition is that of Richard Saller. He contends that a patron–client relationship is () reciprocal; () asymmetrical; and () long-term (Saller, Personal Patronage). This threefold definition became widespread, even commonplace, among NT scholars through the influential works of Wallace-Hadrill and S. Eisenstadt and L. Roniger (see, e.g., John Chow, Patronage and Power: A Study of Social Networks in Corinth [JSNTS ; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ] –; Crook, Reconceptualizing Conversion, –). Classicist Claude Eilers, while acknowledging the value of his analysis, challenges Saller’s popular definition, insisting that it erroneously permits any relationship that meets this threefold criterion to be labelled ‘patronage’, even relationships such as suffragium and literary patronage, which were not recognized by the Roman world as patrocinium. It robs patronage of its specificity and lacks correct knowledge of the Roman world, which is necessary to develop a general definition of patronage (Roman Patrons, –; cf. also Marshall, Jesus, –). Still, Eilers’s work, significant as it may be, has not escaped scholarly assail, which leaves the definition of patronage open for discussion (cf. K. Verboven, ‘Review of Claude Eilers, Roman Patrons of Greek Cities’, BMCR . [] http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/ /--.html (accessed //)). Because multiple kinds of patronal relationships exist, I will only present certain characteristics avowed by both classicists and social historians. Marshall, Jesus, . Marshall, Jesus, –; Eisenstadt and Roniger, Patrons, ; A. Blok, ‘Variations in Patronage’, Sociologische Gids () . Eilers, Roman Patrons, –; Marshall, Jesus, –; E. Wolf, ‘Kinship, Friendship, and Patron– Client Relations in Complex Societies’, Friends, Followers, and Factions (ed. Schmidt et al.) – at .
Mutual Brokers of Grace
(c)
Patron–client relationships are bound by ‘social obligation and the inner force of honour’, which may have been viewed as an exploitative transaction couched in terms of personal loyalty or reciprocity. In any case, it was incumbent upon recipients to express their gratitude, so as not to be considered ignoble and so as to enhance the social prestige and reputation of the patron. Failure to do so was deemed a disgraceful insult and resulted in public opprobrium, as Seneca attests: ‘Not to return gratitude for benefits is a disgrace, and the whole world counts it as such’ (De Ben ..; cf. ..). In theory, even the patron ‘was obligated to fulfil his responsibilities to his clients and promote their well-being’.
Other characteristics could certainly be added. Sufficient for present purposes, however, are the specific relational components of asymmetry, reciprocity, exchange of disparate resources, and mutual obligation that a patron–client relationship entailed; and yet, when the broker is factored into this relational equation, patronage takes on a different shape. .. Brokerage To speak at a fairly high level of abstraction, the broker provides a profitable link between two parties or segments of society. Jeremy Boissevain likens the job of the broker to that of a telegrapher who transmits messages between two persons. The transmission from the patron to the client is primarily one of material goods and services, whereas the return transmission from the client to the patron is one of gratitude or even acts of loyalty. Behind these transmissions, the broker has, as Jerome Neyrey points out, ‘a foot in both worlds’, appreciating the interests of both parties and striving to bridge them effectively. As a ‘telegrapher’ connecting higher- and lower-ranking people or groups, the broker facilitates access to an otherwise unattainable resource, one which Boissevain labels a ‘second order resource’. ‘First order resources’ refer to tangible goods such as land, jobs, and protection, which the patron directly possesses. But ‘second order resources’ pertain to ‘strategic contacts with other people who Marshall, Jesus, . Peter Garnsey, Famine and Food Supply in the Graeco-Roman World: Responses to Risk and Crisis (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) . Donald Engels, Roman Corinth: An Alternative Model for the Classical City (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago, ) ; cf. Nicols, ‘Pliny and Patronage’, , , who distinguishes between ‘patronage in theory and patronage in practice’. Boissevain, Friends of Friends: Networks, Manipulators and Coalitions (Pavilion; Oxford: Blackwell, ) , . Wolf, ‘Kinship, Friendship, and Patron–Client Relations’, . Neyrey, ‘God, Benefactor and Patron’, ; cf. Blok, ‘Variations’, ; Sydel Silverman, ‘Patronage and Community–Nation Relationships in Central Italy’, Friends, Followers, and Factions (ed. Schmidt et al.) , .
DAVID BRIONES
control such resources directly or have access to such persons’. ‘[T]hose who dispense second order resources’, Boissevain concludes, ‘are brokers’. By possessing strategic contact with the wealthy, the broker bridges the social chasm between patron and client in a way that is profitable for both parties. Various examples from the letters of the younger Pliny helpfully illustrate this intermediary practice, especially since he enjoyed an analogous relationship with the emperor Trajan as well as others. Epistles ., for instance, captures Pliny’s right to solicit the ‘patronage’ ( fortuna) of Priscus on behalf of Voconius Romanus, whose character is worthy to gain entrance into the patron’s valuable ‘friendship’ (amicitia). Pliny’s access to emperor Trajan’s patronage is further projected in Ep ., where Pliny entreats Trajan to grant a senatorial office to Romanus, of which Pliny, by virtue of his connection with the emperor, confidently awaits Trajan’s ‘favourable judgment’, not only for himself but also for Romanus, the client. In another letter, Pliny brokers a Praetorship for his friend, Accius Sura, whose high view of Trajan ‘prompts him to hope [that] he may experience [receiving a Praetorship] in this instance’ (Ep .). Viewed together, these examples of unwavering certainty in receiving what has been petitioned, by the client and Pliny alike, and of Pliny’s right to make requests of opulent members of society, demonstrate the broker’s privileged access to the rich storehouse of patrons on behalf of clients. Given that the broker has access to the goods of the wealthy and manages the transaction of these goods to the client in the patron’s stead, one could easily see how the client could mistake the broker for the patron. This misperception is caused by the fact that the broker assumed the role of a patron for clients residing within distant locations. Indeed, Pliny, although clearly brokering a benefit, sounds more like a patron when describing how Tranquillus, upon receiving a favour from Baebius Hispanus, will incur an obligation to Pliny (Ep .). At times, Pliny even refers to himself as a ‘patron’ (patronus), but this occurs only when corresponding with certain communities who have officially conferred Boissevain, Friends, –. Boissevain, Friends, . See Pliny Ep .; ., ; ., , ; ., , , , , , , , , a and b, , , , , , , ; also Fronto Ad Amicos .; .. See Saller, Personal Patronage, –. James Scott notes that ‘it is quite possible for a single individual to act both as a broker and a patron’ (‘Patron–Client Politics’, ; cf. H. Moxnes, The Economy of the Kingdom: Social Conflict and Economic Relations in Luke’s Gospel [OBT; Philadelphia: Fortress, ] ). Blok, ‘Variations’, –. Although he recognizes that he will also remain under obligation to Baebius: ‘I mention these particulars, to let you see how much he will be obliged to me, as I shall to you, if you can help him to the purchase of this little box, so agreeable to his taste…’ (Ep. .; first italics mine). Nicols, ‘Pliny and Patronage’, ; cf. A. N. Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny the Younger: A Historical and Social Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon, ) .
Mutual Brokers of Grace
the title upon him, not when mediating favours to individuals. With regard to mediating benefactions to individuals, it is not surprising that, with the broker’s task of procuring for and, perhaps, physically delivering necessary goods to clients, the broker would have been misrecognized as the patron in the eyes of the client. In the eyes of the patron, however, the broker (though euphemistically called a ‘friend’) is primarily regarded as a sort of privileged client. On one occasion, Pliny performs the role of an obsequious supplicant, overly flattering and honouring Trajan after granting Roman and Alexandrian citizenship to Harpocras at his request (Ep .-). He expresses his deep gratitude to the emperor by noting that this favour, a favour given to Harpocras, places Pliny himself under further obligation. Elsewhere, Pliny begins one letter more like a subservient client than a privileged broker. After explaining how Priscus gladly embraces ‘every opportunity of obliging [him]’, he servilely exclaims, ‘so there is no man to whom I had rather lay myself under an obligation’ (Ep .). This prefaces an appeal to Priscus to admit one of Pliny’s friends into Priscus’s ‘friendship’ (i.e., patronage). Emerging from these examples is the complex pyramidal structure of brokerage networks, in which the broker is obliged to the patron and the client obliged to the broker (in addition to the already-established obligation of patrons and clients). Having outlined broadly the broker’s role in this enmeshed web of relations, as one who possesses and manipulates access to ‘second order resources’ and channels goods between two persons or groups, we can now see how well this intermediary practice ‘fits’ the reciprocal relationship of Cor .-.
. The ‘Fitting’ Qualities of the Text
Assessing the shape of the text necessitates a close examination of the three participants in the pattern of exchange within Cor .-: God, Paul, and the Nicols, ‘Pliny and Patronage’, , . To the best of my knowledge, each instance where Pliny mediates a favour is accompanied by recognizing the source, whether by name or by the title patronus. In the Roman Empire, the language of ‘friendship’ became proper etiquette. The emperor appointed senators as brokers, whom he considered ‘friends’, in order to distribute his beneficia throughout the land (Saller, Personal Patronage, ). Similarly, clients were also called ‘friends’ so as not to degrade them, but this courtesy ‘did not produce any levelling effect or egalitarian ideology in the hierarchical Roman society’ (p. ). Friendship, therefore, contained the appearance and language of equality, since it originally aimed to be based on mutual affection, but, in actuality, consisted of unequal partners contributing unequal goods and services in profitable exchange (p. ). ‘With respect to the central authority’, Blok notes, ‘they [i.e., brokers] can be regarded as clients’ (‘Variations’, ).
DAVID BRIONES
Corinthians. To discern whether this tripartite relationship ‘fits’ harmoniously within the contours of the brokerage model, the role of each individual participant, along with how they relate to one another, must be compared to the relational dynamics of the patron–broker–client alliance. Situating these gift-exchange participants into their respective patron, broker, or client roles will provide the necessary evidence to uncover the fitting qualities of Cor .. This text, however, contains two vantage points on a single, reciprocal relationship, so an investigation of vv. - will be carried out before turning to vv. -. That God performs the role of the patron in vv. - appears in three distinct ways. First, an asymmetrical relationship is revealed in the title, ‘the Father of mercies’ (.). God occupies the superior position as ‘Father’, while Paul and the Corinthians share the inferior position as ἀδελφοί (.). Secondly, the ‘Father’, as ‘the God of all comfort [παράκλησις]’ (.), possesses a ‘first order resource’, direct access to the commodity of παράκλησις; or, we could say, χάρις. For, in this context, χάρις appears synonymously with παράκλησις, provided that the ‘deliverance’ in v. can be likened to a demonstration of God’s παράκλησις in a time of utter distress (cf. .), a divine act of ‘comfort’ which Paul calls a ‘gift’ (χάρισμα) in v. . In this sense, just as χάρις manifests itself in the form of ‘deliverance’ in vv. -, so, in vv. -, χάρις manifests itself in the form of παράκλησις. God, therefore, as the benevolent patron, imparts the commodity of παράκλησις/χάρις to Paul (.). The last distinct way God acts as patron is that he receives recognition in exchange for granting the resource of grace. Whereas God provides Paul what he needs in time of ‘affliction’, Paul reciprocates what God desires in return for his beneficence; that is, gratitude (Εὐλογητὸς ὁ θεός [.]), the thankful and appropriate response to the generous patron who possesses ‘all comfort’. Paul, conversely, bridges the gap between God the patron and the Corinthians as clients, thereby assuming the role of the broker. This, too, is seen in three distinct ways. Since Jesus’ role in this relationship is multifaceted and complex, operating as the source of the gift (.), the gift itself (., a), and the sphere in which the gift is received (.), I have purposely integrated Jesus’ role into God’s role as patron to avoid clouding the brokerage model and the argument of this essay. The intricacy of Christ’s role is too varied to be developed within the confines of this work, but I recognize its importance and hope to explore his unique role in a later work. For a discussion on whether this introductory formula should be regarded as a wish or a statement, see P. O’Brien, Introductory Thanksgivings in the Letters of Paul (NovTSup; Leiden: Brill, ) –. O’Brien rightly maintains that εὐλογητός does not rule out any thought of personal gratitude and should therefore be interpreted as a wish with an implicit nuance of thanksgiving (p. ). For the sake of simplicity, I will use the name ‘Paul’ in this essay and translate the plurals in . with the pronouns ‘he’ and ‘his’, but the plural in vv. - may certainly include Timothy, at the least. Although many disagree with this interpretation and champion the notion that the
Mutual Brokers of Grace
In the first instance, he possesses strategic contact with the patron and thus access to ‘second order resources’. This privileged access is supported by the fact that ‘all comfort’ is provided by God alone (., a)—Paul does not directly possess this supply. Next, his intermediary role is indicated by the purpose statement of v. : God distributes his comfort to Paul ‘in all [his] afflictions in order that [he] may be able [εἰς τὸ δύνασθαι ἡμᾶς] to comfort those in any affliction through the comfort with which [he] himself [is] comforted by God’. Only the God of ‘all’ (πᾶς) comfort is able to provide for those in ‘any’ (πᾶς) affliction; and yet, he chooses to do so by way of mediation. As God’s commodity of παράκλησις reaches and imbues Paul in the midst of all his hardships, it powerfully enables this frail, suffering mediator to align himself with the trajectory of grace aimed at meeting the needs of others; in this case, the Corinthians. Comfort or grace, then, flows through Paul’s ‘corpselike condition of Christ’ (cf. .) and cascades into a community of affliction, showering the Corinthians with an overflowing surplus of divine grace. Finally, the earnest commitment on Paul’s part to pass on this benefit to the Corinthians, and therefore to meet the interests of both parties, is captured by
Corinthians should also be incorporated into the plural ‘we’, I would argue that Paul intentionally demarcates himself and Timothy from the community. Helpful in this regard is Samuel Byrskog’s fourfold category of the plural in the Pauline corpus: () the ‘pluralis sociativus’, in which the sender associates him- or herself with the recipients; () also the ‘pluralis sociativus’, in which the sender associates him- or herself with a specific group among the recipients; () the sender incorporates fellow-workers who may or may not be co-senders; and () the sender speaks solely of him- or herself (‘Co-Senders, Co-Authors and Paul’s Use of the First Person Plural’, ZNW [] – at ). Based on this categorization, I would argue that the plural ‘we’ or ‘us’ in vv. - ought to be subsumed under category and considered real plurals, with Paul (the sender) and Timothy (co-sender and coauthor) specifically in view. This partly aligns with Byrskog’s conclusion on the plural in Corinthians; he asserts that ‘,- is composed throughout in the first person plural, sometimes apparently including the addressees, but sometimes, most evidently from , and onwards, not including them’ (p. ). However, I would go further and assert that the article τούς in v. , the passive recipients of ‘comfort’, comprises the same group identified by ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν in v. (i.e., the Corinthian community), which clearly delineates the sender from the recipient, so that the plural evidently excludes addressees from v. onwards rather than from just v. . For more on the first person plural in Paul and Corinthians, see K. Dick, Der Schriftstellerische Plural bei Paulus (Halle: Niemeyer, ); T. Zahn, Einleitung in das Neue Testament (Leipzig: Deichert, ) ; O. Roller, Das Formular der Paulinischen Briefe; ein Beitrag zur Lehre vom Antike Briefe (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, ) –; E. von Dobschütz, ‘Wir und Ich bei Paulus’, ZST () –; M. Thrall, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians (ICC; vols.; Edinburgh & T. Clark, ) .–. See the previous note for a defence of the literary plural and a disclaimer for the translation of .. A. E. Harvey, Renewal through Suffering: A Study of Corinthians (SNTW; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) ; cf. Cor .-.
DAVID BRIONES
the key phrase ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν. This phrase signifies a selfless, other-oriented modus operandi, alluded to in v. but amplified in vv. -: But if we are afflicted it is on behalf of your comfort and salvation [ὑπὲρ τῆς ὑμῶν παρακλήσεως καὶ σωτηρίας]; or if we are comforted, it is in behalf of your comfort [ὑπὲρ τῆς ὑμῶν παρακλήσεως], which is effective in the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer. And our hope on behalf of you [ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν] is firmly grounded, knowing that as you are sharers of our sufferings, so also [you will be sharers] of comfort.
Here, Paul’s resolve as broker to provide for the needs of the community, despite any grievous condition he may encounter, comes to the fore. And yet, this mediating role, replete with external and internal suffering, takes on a more theological character. He becomes an embodiment of the sacrificial life of Christ to the community. This is why he considers ‘Christ’s sufferings’ (.) to be his own, In the verbless clause of v. c, the future verb ἔσεσθε ought to be supplied instead of ἐστε, although the ὡς…οὕτως καί formulation leads many commentators to insert ἐστε (e.g., I. Vegge, Corinthians—A Letter about Reconciliation [WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ] ). They nevertheless neglect the future-oriented perspective of ἐλπίς here and in v. (ῥύσεται εἰς ὃν ἠλπίκαμεν), and they also disregard the fact that the Corinthians already experience a present working (τῆς ἐνεργουμένης) of ‘comfort’ (.). The point being communicated in v. c is that if they participate in Paul’s sufferings, and thus the ‘sufferings of Christ’ (.), they will enter eschatological ‘comfort’ (cf. Rom . for the same line of argument). They must, then, reaffirm their relationship by becoming ‘fellow-sharers’ (κοινωνοί) of his sufferings in order to share in a common, future hope. My translation. The ‘sufferings of Christ’ in Paul contain a physical ( Cor .-; .-; .-) as well as emotional dimension ( Cor .; .). Numerous suggestions have been posited as to the specific nature of ‘the sufferings of Christ’. Some associate them with the Jewish ‘woes of the Messiah’ in which the community, rather than the Messiah, experiences the birth-pangs as a prelude to the messianic age (Isa .; .; Jer .; Hos .; Mic .-; cf. C. K. Barrett, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians [BNTC; London: A&C Black, ] ). Yet, the LXX employs the terms ὠδίν or ὠδίνω for ‘birth-pangs’, not πάθημα, and attestation in first-century sources is difficult to maintain. According to J. C. Beker, the concept of the messianic woes is ‘not documented in Jewish literature until C.E.’ (Paul the Apostle: The Triumph of God in Life and Thought [Philadelphia: Fortress, ] ). Conversely, some consider these sufferings as Paul’s endeavor to imitate Christ (cf. Thess .), but even though Paul is hailed as a model to imitate (e.g., Cor .), the imitation motif is completely absent from Corinthians. Still others affirm a realistic union with the sufferings of the historical Jesus, having been enacted through participation in the σωμᾶ Χριστοῦ and operating as an extension of Christ’s work (C. Proudfoot, ‘Imitation or Realistic Participation? A Study of Paul’s Concept of Suffering with Christ’, Int [] – at ). But it is uncertain as to whether Paul shares this realistic interpretation of σωμᾶ Χριστοῦ (cf. Thrall, Second Epistle, .). Instead, a more convincing position recognizes a real, but not completely literal, union with Christ occurring through baptism (Rom .-), inwardly conforming believers into his character, suffering, and death (R. Tannehill, Dying and Rising with Christ: A Study in Pauline
Mutual Brokers of Grace
which, contrary to expectation, produces ‘comfort’ and ‘life’ in others (cf. .). Building upon this, the inclusion of ‘salvation’ (σωτηρία), most likely a synonym for ‘comfort’, adds soteriological weight to the παράκλησις he provides. It expands the meaning of ‘comfort’, from solely representing a present experience to including an eschatological hope (i.e., final salvation), and thereby heightens the necessity to be in close relationship with their apostle. For without his intermediary function on their behalf, the Corinthians may seem to experience ‘comfort’ in the present time but never attain the eschatological ‘comfort’ of God. Consequently, living ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν, as it were, is anything but an optional practice. It is an essential means to the ultimate salvation of the Corinthians. In short, vv. - portray a unidirectional relationship, a ‘one-way street’, as Scott Hafemann puts it, with God the patron working through Paul the broker in order solely to benefit the Corinthians as clients. This relationship, along with the route of grace, may be diagrammed as follows:
Figure a
Theology [BZNW ; Berlin: Töpelmann, ] ). In addition to this inward conformity, there is also an outward embodiment. As John Schütz succinctly puts it, ‘Paul does not repeat what Christ has done. He reflects what Christ has done. In him the account of that action is made manifest’ (Paul and the Anatomy of Apostolic Authority [SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ] ; emphasis original). On suffering in Corinthians specifically, see Harvey, Renewal through Suffering, –. Just as Christ ‘became poor’ (πτωχεύω) to make others ‘rich’ (πλούσιος) ( Cor .), so, too, Paul describes himself ‘as poor [πτωχοί], yet making many rich [πλουτίζοντες]’ ( Cor .). The term σωτηρία expresses the eschatological motif of the Messiah bringing an end to misery and imbuing God’s people with comfort, an interpretation most prominently found in the Psalms and Deutero-Isaiah (Proudfoot, ‘Imitation or Realistic Participation?’, ; cf. Luke .). This demonstrates the necessity for the Corinthians to become fellow-sharers with Paul in suffering now, so that they may experience future ‘comfort’. As Morna Hooker states, ‘Just as Christ’s death leads to life for Christians, so Paul’s affliction leads to comfort and salvation for the Corinthians. Just as Christ’s resurrection brings resurrection and glory (to those who are prepared to suffer with him), so Paul’s experience of comfort brings comfort to the Corinthians (provided they share his sufferings)’ (From Adam to Christ: Essays on Paul [Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, ] ). Not in any absolute sense, as if Paul’s ministry contained ‘atoning efficacy’ (contra A. Hanson, The Paradox of the Cross in the Thought of St Paul [JSNTSup ; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ] ), but in the sense that that his ministry serves to realign them with the grace of God in Christ. S. Hafemann, Corinthians (NIVAC; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, ) .
DAVID BRIONES
In turning to the second half of the pericope, an interesting shift occurs. Until now, Paul has recounted his sacrificial role in the economy of χάρις as one who brokers a divine supply for the afflicted community (God comforts Paul, so that Paul may comfort the Corinthians). But, in vv. -, Paul does something that the Corinthians may not have expected. He begins by narrating his unique story of suffering—a story that, although vague and cursory, not only relates the tremendous effects engendered by the tumultuous affliction in Asia (both negative [.-a] and positive [.b-]) but also, and more importantly, contains an attempt to draw the Corinthians into a right understanding of the economy of χάρις. Paul presents himself, not as a tyrannical despot who solely inflicts ‘pain’ (as they had erroneously concluded [.-]) but as a fellow-sufferer ‘in Christ’. He, too, like them, is well acquainted with affliction and depends greatly upon divine consolation. Indeed, he notifies them of how ‘the God who raises the dead’ (.), the one who ‘calls into being that which does not exist’ (Rom .), had previously delivered him from ‘so great a death’ (.). And it is this past deliverance which moves him to express a steadfast hope in God’s ultimate ‘deliverance’ from future peril. But the question becomes: how will Paul experience this future deliverance? In this regard, the note of future ‘deliverance’ at the end of v. becomes a timely segue into v. , in which Paul explains exactly how this deliverance will come about: the Corinthians must become mediators of God’s grace to him. Or, to apply patronage terminology, they must become brokers of God (the patron) and mediate divine resources to Paul (the dependent client). This is a radical modification of the one-way relationship in the previous section, particularly because Paul, in v. , anticipates an interchange of roles wherein the Corinthians contribute to the ultimate fate of their apostle as brokers of divine grace. To discern the development of and reason for this interchange, three important shifts must be uncovered. The first shift relates to privileged rights. Paul formerly had direct access to the patron, but now the Corinthians have the privilege of unmediated access to God. The impenetrable barrier once separating them as mere clients has been eradicated. Now, within this close partnership, the community may ‘co-work’ According to A. E. Harvey, the vagueness of this formidable event can be attributed to Paul’s interest in answering the more important question of ‘what the sufferer “felt” like—guilty or angry, hopeful or despairing’, rather than what exactly he endured (Renewal, ). The rationale behind this is ‘to prove a point, to mount a defense, to disarm criticism’, which typifies the ‘well-known techniques of persuasion’ in the ancient world’ (pp. –; on the rhetoric employed in this passage, see L. Welborn, ‘Paul’s Appeal to the Emotions in Corinthians .–.; .-’, JSNT [] – at , ). Welborn, ‘Paul’s Appeal’, : ‘Nothing serves to make clear the commonality of affliction better than an account of the suffering of the one who has caused sorrow’. This commonality is also faintly alluded to in ..
Mutual Brokers of Grace
(συνυπουργούντων) with God through their prayers (.a), with the supply of the patron now readily accessible. The second shift is directional. Whereas ‘comfort’ previously flowed through Paul (.), the Corinthians now have the opportunity to allow a χάρισμα to flow ‘through’ them. The mediating role of the apostle was Two grammatical queries arise from Paul’s use of συνυπουργούντων: (a) how should the participle be interpreted, and (b) with whom exactly does Paul want them to ‘co-work’? First, συνυπουργούντων could be interpreted temporally (‘while you cooperate’; e.g., P. Hughes, Paul’s Second Epistle to the Corinthians [NICNT; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ] ; Thrall, Second Epistle, . n. ), conditionally (‘if you join in’; e.g., Barrett, Second Epistle, ; V. Furnish, II Corinthians [AB A; Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Co., ] ), or imperatively (‘you must work together’; e.g., R. Bultmann, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians [Minneapolis: Augsburg, ] ). Still, the conditional interpretation is the preferable option, primarily because it follows the conventional pattern of other prayer requests in the Pauline corpus (Phil .; Phlm ). Second, as to with whom the Corinthians were to ‘co-work’, three viable options have been proffered: Paul, God, or among themselves. Those in favor of identifying Paul as the implied partner of συνυπουργούντων appeal to συναγωνίζομαι in Rom . (Bultmann, Corinthians, ; cf. also M. Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ] ). There, however, the context obviously identifies Paul as the cooperating partner, while the co-worker conveyed in Cor . is not overtly evident. Also, the adverb ‘also’ (καί), preceding the appeal to cooperate in prayer, may suggest that Paul wants them to reciprocate an action he himself has done on their behalf. For this reason, Paul cannot be their co-worker. Rather, just as he worked in conjunction with God for the Corinthians (vv. -), they are now to cooperate with God through prayer for their apostle, not as equals with God but as dependent beings presenting their request to ‘the God of all comfort’. As Adolf Schlatter affirms, ‘Das σύν meint schwerlich, daß ihr Gebet mit dem des Paulus zusammen wirke; σύν wird auf Gottes Wirken bezogen sein, an dem sie durch ihr Gebet dienenden Anteil haben’ (Paulus der Bote Jesu: Eine Deutung seiner Briefe an die Korinther [Stuttgart: Calwer, ] ). Arguably, the same idea may be present in Cor .: θεοῦ γάρ ἐσμεν συνεργοί. Furnish strongly disagrees. He admits that the question of whether this verse should be translated ‘co-workers with God’ or ‘co-workers who belong to God’ is ‘virtually unanswerable’ on lexical and grammatical grounds. But he nevertheless insists that, on contextual grounds, the latter is preferable (‘Fellow Workers in God’s Service’ JBL [] – at ). Still, it is possible to affirm the former without viewing the apostles as somehow equal with God. Donald Ker claims that ‘the language of “service” (διακονία) is as likely to imply partnership as subservience’, and that Paul wishes to stress the ‘God-given authenticity’ of their apostolic work in Cor – (‘Paul and Apollos—Colleagues or Rivals?’ JSNT [] – at ). That said, the apostles, like the Corinthians, co-work ‘with’ God while remaining ‘under’ God. Opinions vary as to what the χάρισμα entails, from Paul’s apostolic vocation (J. E. Osiander, Commentar über den zweiten Brief Pauli an die Korinthier [Stuttgart: Rudolf Besser, ] ) to the bestowal of grace or equipping of the spirit (H. Windisch, Der zweite Korintherbrief [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ] ). The majority of commentators, though, accurately interpret χάρισμα as deliverance from a future peril (A. Plummer, The Second Epistle of St Paul to the Corinthians [ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ] ; H. Lietzmann,
DAVID BRIONES
implicitly expressed in the purpose clause of v. . But for the Corinthians, the office of the broker is explicitly disclosed by the preposition διά. The χάρισμα of the patron will be transmitted ‘through many’ (διὰ πολλῶν)—presumably the Corinthians—to Paul. The flow of grace has now altered its course and destination. The last shift is based on need. Important in this regard is the switch from ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν in vv. - to ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν in v. , a verse which has certainly prompted much scholarly frustration and interpretive bemusement. It has been labelled ‘a perplexing sentence’, considered ‘a complicated manner of expression’ (die umständliche Redeweise), and bluntly called ‘confused’. To help mitigate some of the ambiguity, I have created a table of the three major interpretive options. Three Options for Verse b Greek Text:
ἵνα ἐκ πολλῶν προσώπων τὸ εἰς ἡμᾶς χάρισμα διὰ πολλῶν εὐχαριστηθῇ ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν
. Translation:
‘that for the gift bestowed upon us through many people, thanks may be given from many persons on our behalf’ () ἐκ πολλῶν προσώπων modifies εὐχαριστηθῇ () διὰ πολλῶν modifies χάρισμα () προσώπων is translated ‘people’, ‘persons’, or ‘faces’ Strict grammar requires the article τό before διὰ πολλῶν for this translation. Moreover, the space between ἐκ πολλῶν προσώπων and εὐχαριστηθῇ is too large a gap for one to modify the other.
a. Interpretive Decisions
b. Problems
An die Korinther I–II (HNT ; Tübingen: Mohr, ) ; Bultmann, Corinthians, -; Furnish, II Corinthians, ; Barrett, Second Epistle, ; cf. Rom .- ‘where χάρισμα is almost a summary term for God’s gracious intervention through Christ’ (Thrall, Second Epistle, .). Plummer, Second Epistle, . Windisch, Korintherbrief, . J. Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit: A Study of the Religious and Charismatic Experience of Jesus and the First Christians as Reflected in the New Testament (London: SCM, ) . E.g., Barrett, Second Epistle, -; Hughes, Corinthians, -; R. Martin, Corinthians (WBC ; Waco: Word Books, ) ; J. Lambrecht, Second Corinthians (SP ; Collegeville, MI: Liturgical, ) ; Thrall, Second Epistle, .-; Harris, Second Epistle, -; F. Young and D. Ford, Meaning and Truth in Corinthians (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) . Commentators fluctuate on their translations of προσώπων, so it is not necessary, for instance, to translate the word ‘persons’ in order to subscribe to option . This also applies to the other two options. C. F. D. Moule, An Idiom Book of New Testament Greek (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) .
Mutual Brokers of Grace
. Translation: a. Interpretive Decisions
b. Problems
. Translation:
a. Interpretive Decisions
b. Problems
‘that the gift may be granted to us through the prayer of intercession on our behalf from many persons’ () ἐκ πολλῶν προσώπων and διὰ πολλῶν both modify χάρισμα () εὐχαριστηθῇ is translated ‘granted’ () διὰ πολλῶν is understood as a neuter—translated ‘through many prayers of intercession’ If ἐκ πολλῶν modifies χάρισμα, the Corinthians are distinguished as the absolute source of the ‘gift’ (i.e., deliverance). Moreover, even though διὰ πολλῶν in the neuter mitigates the superfluous appearance of πολλῶν, the rendering of εὐχαριστῶ as ‘to grant’ nowhere appears in Paul’s letters in the active voice with a direct object in the accusative and can hardly be supported by Judith .. ‘that from many mouths, for the gift bestowed upon us, thanks may be given through many people on our behalf’ () ἐκ πολλῶν and διὰ πολλῶν both modify
εὐχαριστηθῇ
() God is the implied source of χάρισμα () προσώπων is translated ‘mouths’ διὰ πολλῶν is redundant.
Of the three, the first appears to be the most convincing. For even though strict grammar requires τó before διὰ πολλῶν, A. T. Robertson cites passages where a prepositional phrase, modifying a preceding articular noun, is lacking the article. But more significantly, pairing ἐκ πολλῶν προσώπων with εὐχαριστηθῇ and διὰ πολλῶν with χάρισμα alleviates the unnecessary tension of perceiving the Corinthians as the absolute source (ἐκ) of the gift. God is the one who imparts the ‘gift’ (χάρισμα) ‘through’ (διά) the agency of ‘many’ (πολλῶν) ‘on behalf of’ (ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν) the apostle. Although Paul once looked after their interests by acting on behalf of their salvation (.), the Corinthians now have the opportunity to comprise ‘the many’ who act on his behalf through prayer for his ultimate deliverance (i.e., salvation). By beseeching
E.g., J. Héring, The Second Epistle of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (London: Epworth, ) . Barrett, Second Epistle, . E.g., Plummer, Second Epistle, ; Furnish, II Corinthians, , . Moule, Idiom, . A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical Research (Nashville: Broadman, ) ; e.g., Rom .; .; Cor .; Cor .. An analogous thought occurs in Phil ., where Paul is dependent upon the Philippians’ prayers in cooperation with the Spirit to actualize a near future and eschatological deliverance
DAVID BRIONES
God to deliver a χάρισμα to Paul, they place a foot in his world and esteem his interests greater than their own. The picture painted in vv. -, therefore, resembles that of vv. -, except now the ‘one-way street’ runs in the opposite direction, with God the patron working through the community as the broker in order solely to benefit Paul, the client.
Figure b What then can be said concerning the ‘fittingness’ of the brokerage model in these separate sections? It has hopefully become apparent that these texts share multiple affinities with the patron–broker–client alliance: God the patron who possesses direct access to ‘first order resources’; the mediating roles of Paul and the Corinthians (indicated by διά in the case of the latter but implied in the former); their access to ‘second order resources’; and their desire to satisfy the interests of the other party, implied by ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν and ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν, all closely resonate with the brokerage model. Nevertheless, when the separate sections of vv. - and - are conjoined as one reciprocal relationship, the pattern of exchange that emerges is quite paradoxical and even antithetical to the model itself. . The ‘Unfitting’ Qualities of the Text
Certain pieces of this text do not ‘fit’ the brokerage model. Identifying these awkwardly shaped pieces and attempting to explain why they are unfitting will enable better perception of the kind of gift-giving relationship Paul hopes to enjoy with the Corinthian community.
(σωτηρία); cf. M. Silva, Philippians (BECNT; Grand Rapids: Baker, ) –. Other verbal parallels may be discerned between Cor and Philippians (χάρις [Phil .], πάθημα [Phil .], θλῖψις [Phil .; .], κοινωνία [Phil .; .], παράκλησις [Phil .], θάνατος [Phil .; .]), which, together, may demonstrate that the Philippian community, as fellow-sharers of the ‘same struggle’ as Paul (.), exhibited a mutually dependent relationship with their apostle rather than one of domination and subordination. The relationship sought after is future-oriented rather than presently experienced.
Mutual Brokers of Grace
The first odd-shaped piece is that ‘grace’ is the only available commodity. Whereas patronal relations in Greco-Roman society involved an unequal exchange of various goods, God’s economy of grace forbids such a thing to occur. Instead, it promotes a system of balanced reciprocity in which the sole resource of χάρις remains in God’s hands and is granted, not for one’s own possession or for advancing one’s own influence and power, but to ‘pay it forward’ abundantly to fellow-sufferers in this network of grace. Within this divine network, there is, as it were, a re-cycling of χάρις, springing from God’s fount of generosity, flowing through, among, and for Christ-followers, and finally returning to its owner as εὐχαριστία. The second misshapen piece, one which strikes at the very heart of the brokerage model, is that both Paul and the Corinthians operate interchangeably as brokers of one another. Strictly speaking, for the brokerage model to ‘fit’ precisely the reciprocal relationship of Cor .-, there cannot be two brokers with direct access to the patron. In a single patron–broker–client relationship, if someone is a broker, then the other has to be a client. To be sure, as mentioned earlier, the broker could have functioned like a client to the patron or a patron to the client. But here we have the broker functioning like a client to the former client, and the client functioning like a broker to the former broker. Paradoxically, what the text unveils is a ‘mutual brokerage’ relationship, a relational pattern that follows suit with other Pauline articulations of those who reside in the divine economy. Consider one instance where Paul states, ‘ … through love serve one another’ (Gal .). How can there be two servants in one relationship? If one is a servant, then is not the other a master? Consider also Rom .b, ‘Outdo one another in showing honour’. The cultural principle at the time was to strive after one’s own honour and outdo others to improve one’s own social standing. But for Paul, the complete opposite is true. Christ-followers are to strive after another’s honour and improve another’s social standing by outdoing them in dishonour (since one cannot honour another without somehow dishonouring oneself). What is being described in these culture-defying examples, as in Cor , is the establishment of a mutuality that has a levelling effect, one that is marked as much by solidarity as by difference; that creates a community of alternating disequilibrium, having been ‘bound together by webs of need and of gift’, which See R. Jewett, ‘Paul, Shame, and Honour’, Paul in the Greco-Roman World: A Handbook (ed. P. Sampley; London: Trinity Press International, ) -. To borrow the words of David Horrell’s book Solidarity and Difference: A Contemporary Reading of Paul’s Ethics (London: T&T Clark, ). J. Barclay, ‘Manna and the Circulation of Grace: A Study of Corinthians .-’, The Word Leaps the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honour of Richard B. Hays (ed. R. Wagner et al.; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) - at .
DAVID BRIONES
distributes divine commodity to those in need (cf. Cor. :-), eradicates selfsufficiency, and renders every inhabitant equally dependent on God through the agency of others; and that promotes a counter-cultural lifestyle that lives by the way of the cross rather than the way of this world, by the path of other-regarding shame rather than self-gratifying honour. Still, one of the most noteworthy outcomes of the ‘mutual brokerage’ relationship in Cor .- is that each participant in this economy depends upon the other to receive grace from God. The absence of either Paul or the Corinthians in this mediatory form of exchange would render it impossible for the divine surplus of grace to reach its intended destination. It must be mediated. So, far from eliciting individualism, this relational pattern requires the critical, social dynamic of mutual engagement. This brings us to the third and final disproportionate piece. If receiving χάρις from God lies in the mediation of the other, as I have just sought to establish, it necessarily follows that properly returning εὐχαριστία also lies in the initiative of the other. They must therefore acknowledge their mutual dependency in receiving χάρις in order properly to return εὐχαριστία. This is the reason why the Corinthians obtain ‘comfort’, but Paul returns ‘thanks’ (albeit implicitly) on their behalf in v. , ‘Blessed be God’. And, conversely, Paul obtains a χάρισμα, but the Corinthians return ‘thanks on his behalf’ in v. . This demonstrates the corporate nature of completing the circle of χάρις, wherein each participant depends upon the other to avoid the most atrocious disgrace—the vice of ingratitude. This relational pattern may be diagrammed as follows:
Figure c
While ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν is found in v. , ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν is lacking in v. . But the picture of παράκλησις streaming through Paul to the Corinthians (.-) suggests that the wish/thanksgiving (cf. n. ) can be construed as being on their behalf. This is not to say that either party renders thanks vicariously for the other, but that Paul’s initial act of giving thanks is representative of what he desires the Corinthians to reciprocate as a result of witnessing the surpassing χάρις of God. There are certain instances where a broker vicariously renders thanks to the patron for the client (e.g., Pliny Ep .), but the parallel passages of Cor . and .- prohibit such a view. Brackets indicate that these acts, though absent from the text, are implied conceptually.
Mutual Brokers of Grace . Conclusion: Mutual Brokerage
Identifying these ‘unfitting’ qualities of the text, that of a single commodity, the interchange of brokerage roles, and the mutual dependence on the other to receive from and give back to God, has hopefully substantiated the claim that Paul deviates from the classical model of brokerage and radically fabricates his own paradoxical version: ‘mutual brokerage’. Since the absence of such a relationship contains devastating results for both parties, Paul needs the Corinthians just as much as the Corinthians need him. They need one another, as I have argued, to be in a giving and receiving relationship with God, that is to say, to be in fellowship with God. Mutuality or κοινωνία ἐν Χριστῷ must characterize the lives of those who reside within this economy of other-regard; for, within this sphere of grace, κοινωνία with God is predicated upon κοινωνία with one another. For Paul, this is of more than merely personal significance. The stakes are high, and so he writes this earnest appeal to cultivate a mutual mindset among the Corinthians. Larry Welborn perceptively identifies the problem in Corinth as ‘a persistent and distressing symptom of the failure of mutual understanding, which is the eschatological goal of the Christian community (.-)’. Paul’s ‘firm hope’ is that they will concede to his earnest appeal for mutuality, and embrace the mysterious nature of χάρις which extends through a nexus of weakness and suffering, so that, together, they may share in God’s eschatological salvation. Paul’s insistence on this interdependent relationship certainly prohibits any view, such as Stephan Joubert’s, that erroneously turns egalitarian terminology into a relational mask that conceals an authoritative reality. Rather than a pretense of affection, egalitarian terms within and concepts behind the Pauline corpus exhibit a genuine expression of interpersonal solidarity in the grace of God. This is not to deny Paul’s apostolic authority, especially when he is, in many ways, superior to the Corinthians. After all, he is the founding father ( Cor .; Cor .), apostle ( Cor .), and teacher ( Cor .) of the community. But his mutual dependency on the Corinthians should challenge any view that considers his authority over and mutuality with his churches as an either–or option. The two are undeniably inseparable; one just needs to be understood in light of the other. Welborn, ‘Paul’s Appeal’, ; cf. J. Barclay, ‘ Corinthians’, Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible (ed. J. D. G. Dunn and J. W. Rogerson; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) – at –. Though, a less hierarchical appraisal of Paul’s fatherhood has been proposed by S. Bartchy, ‘Who Should be Called Father? Paul of Tarsus between the Jesus Tradition and Patria Potestas’, BTB () –. Worth considering is David Horrell’s attempt to rebalance the scales; he perceptively defines ‘the irony of power’ as an appeal for equality ‘made from a position of presumed authority’ (Solidarity, ). Cf. Kathy Ehrensperger who allows equality and hierarchy to complement one another rather than cancel each other out, such that she moves beyond the domination
DAVID BRIONES
At any rate, conflicting voices on the nature of Paul’s apostolic authority certainly deserve a fair hearing in this ongoing discussion. But, of course, this essay has sought only to contribute by turning the brokerage model against Joubert in order to expose his two-sided apostolic construct as a heavily one-sided (and thus untenable) argument. More significantly, though, this essay underscores the essential component of mutuality that Paul strives to nurture with the Corinthian community, a hybrid relationship which only appears once the ‘unfitting’ qualities of the text are acknowledged.
structure of command–obedience to a ‘response-ability’ paradigm, a paradigm which empowers the other to act in concert with their apostle and replaces hierarchical positions with mutual empowerment (Paul and the Dynamics of Power: Communication and Interaction in the Early Christ-Movement [LNTS; London: T&T Clark, ] , ; cf. also R. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament: A Contemporary Introduction to New Testament Ethics [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ] –).
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000123
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World: The Soteriological Necessity of the Scriptural Catena in Hebrews 1.5-14 J O S H UA W. J I P P Department of Religion, Emory University, Atlanta, GA 30322, USA. email:
[email protected]
Hebrews .- has proved difficult to integrate within the author’s larger literary project. More recent scholarship has emphasized rightly that the catena centers upon the Son of God’s royal enthronement, but the question as to why the author should begin his argument this way has yet to be answered. In this essay I argue that the event which the catena describes, namely the Son’s enthronement to the heavenly world, is critical for the entire logic of the author’s argument regarding how humanity’s salvation is accomplished. The likelihood of this conclusion is bolstered by the rarely recognized inclusio between .- and .-. Finally, I briefly examine four texts which suggest that the author envisions the Son’s narrative, particularly his entrance into God’s heavenly realm as described in .-, as a soteriological necessity, and pattern, for humanity. Keywords: Son of God, enthronement/exaltation, angels, Hebrews, heavenly Zion, catena
The presence of Heb .- within Hebrews has continued to baffle scholars, and many have not even attempted to relate the section to the broader argument of the sermon, an odd state of affairs given that many scholars regard Hebrews as the most elegant piece of literature in the NT. Suggestions that the author was Although it is not a matter of importance for this paper, I assume that the genre of Hebrews is a sermon. On the genre of Hebrews, see Craig R. Koester, Hebrews (AB ; New York: Doubleday, ) –. For example, David Hay (Glory at the Right Hand: Psalm in Early Christianity [SBLMS ; Nashville: Abingdon, ] ) suggests that the catena may be a traditional early Christian testimonium which explains ‘the partial irrelevance of the passage’ to the author’s broader argument. Likewise, Hugh Montefiore (The Epistle to the Hebrews [BNTC; London: A & C Black, ] –) thinks Heb .- is taken over by the author from earlier tradition since the catena ‘seems ill-adapted to his purpose, [and] since only one of them in the LXX contains the actual word angels’. Similarly, see Harold Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, ) . Paul Ellingworth (The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary
JOSHUA W. JIPP
countering angel worship or a form of angel christology are, while prevalent in scholarship, speculative at best as there is no polemic against angels in the speech or anywhere in the rest of the text. The argument that the author engages in a synkrisis between the angels and Christ in order simultaneously to exalt Christ and to weaken the authority of the old covenant certainly carries much more weight, especially given the relationship between Sinai and the angels in .-, but this suggestion does not go nearly far enough in explaining all the diverse elements of the entire passage. While some scholars have rightly recognized that the catena centers upon the Son of God’s royal enthronement, the reason as to why the author should begin his sermon this way has yet to be answered convincingly. I want to suggest, however, that this catena of verses, which I will argue depicts a hymnic celebration of the Father’s declaration of Jesus’ sonship and his royal enthronement to the heavenly world, is critical for the entire logic of the author’s argument and the symbolic world which the text creates. At the very least, the Son’s exaltation, depicted in Heb .-, functions as the means whereby God secures his promises to humanity (.-), is the basis for the argument that Jesus is humanity’s Melchizedekian high priest (.-; .-
on the Greek Text [NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ] –) has refuted the suggestion that the author has not integrated these verses into his epistle. Likewise, the catena is treated as central for Hebrews by Richard Bauckham, ‘Monotheism and Christology in Hebrews ’, Early Jewish and Christian Monotheism (ed. Loren T. Stuckenbruck and Wendy E. S. North; London/New York: T&T Clark, ) –. Many have supposed that the author, or the original source of the catena, was combating some form of angel-worship or angel-christology: Loren T. Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration and Christology: A Study in Early Judaism and the Christology of the Apocalypse of John (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ) –; Ronald Williamson, Philo and the Epistle to the Hebrews (Leiden: Brill, ) ; Charles A. Gieschen, Angelomorphic Christology: Antecedents and Early Evidence (Leiden: Brill, ) –; L. K. K. Dey, The Intermediary World and Patterns of Perfection in Philo and Hebrews (SBLDS ; Missoula, MT: Scholars, ) –. A dated but impressive list of scholars who see Heb .- as polemically motivated is listed by Friedrich Schröger, Der Verfasser des Hebräerbriefes als Schriftausleger (BU ; Regensburg: Pustet, ) –. That the angel–Christ contrast functions within the author’s contrast between the old and new covenants is argued for fruitfully by Kenneth L. Schenk, ‘A Celebration of the Enthroned Son’, JBL () –, here , –. See also, Barnabas Lindars, The Theology of Hebrews (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –; William L. Lane, Hebrews – (WBC A; Dallas: Word, ) –; John P. Meier, ‘Symmetry and Theology in the Old Testament Citations of Heb. :-’, Bib () –; L. D. Hurst, ‘The Christology of Hebrews and ’, The Glory of Christ in the New Testament: Studies in Christology in Memory of George Bradford Caird (ed. L. D. Hurst and N. T. Wright; Oxford: Clarendon, ) . James W. Thompson (‘The Structure and Purpose of the Catena in Heb :-’, CBQ [] –) argues that the purpose of the catena has nothing to do with combating some form of heresy. Likewise, he sees the catena as primarily a celebration of the exalted royal Son.
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
), and establishes the narrative goal or pattern which God’s children follow (.-). That the catena occupies a critical role in the author’s narrative logic is further demonstrated by the author’s final argument in Heb .-, a text which, I will suggest, forms an inclusio with Heb .-. The major task set before me will be to demonstrate the role which these two texts play in the author’s argument regarding the Son’s heavenly enthronement. I will then conclude by briefly suggesting how this celebration of the enthroned Son is a highly appropriate, even necessary, way for the author to begin his argument of how the Son accomplishes humanity’s salvation as its pioneer as he enters into God’s own world.
. Hebrews .- and the Firstborn Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly Kingdom
In . the author subordinates the role of the angels by placing direct speech from the LXX on the Father’s lips: υἱός μου εἶ σύ, ἐγὼ σήμερον γεγέννηκά σε; καὶ πάλιν, ἐγὼ ἔσομαι αὐτῷ εἰς πατέρα, καὶ αὐτὸς ἔσται μοι εἰς υἱόν (‘You are my son, Today I have begotten you’, and again, ‘I will be a Father to him, and he will be a Son to me’). It is of utmost significance to note that the primary metaphor which the author uses to refer to Jesus is familial, namely his sonship. The climactic moment of the scene in the catena is the Father’s declaration of Jesus’ sonship as he enters into God’s throne room. Having referred to the Son’s purification for sins in .b, the author develops the most important theme of the exordium where he claims that Jesus ‘has taken his seat at the right hand of the Majesty on high’ (ἐκάθισɛν ἐν δɛξιᾷ τῆς μɛγαλωσύνης ἐν ὑψηλοῖς, .c). This allusion to LXX Ps ., a text which is the final quotation in the catena (Heb .; see also Heb .; .-; and .), sets the theme for the rest of Heb .- as the catena centers upon the Son’s enthronement and entrance into the Father’s heavenly throne room. Having taken his seat at the Father’s right hand, Jesus subsequently ‘inherited a more excellent name than them’ (ὅσῳ διαϕορώτɛρον παρ’ αὐτοὺς κɛκληρονόμηκɛν ὄνομα, .b). While the similarity of this text to Phil .- This is argued for by Schenk, ‘A Celebration of the Enthroned Son’, –. Also see the perceptive essay of Ardel B. Caneday, ‘The Eschatological World Already Subjected to the Son: The Οἰκουμένη of Hebrews . and the Son’s Enthronement’, The Cloud of Witnesses (ed. Richard Bauckham et al.; London/New York: T&T Clark, ) –. On the theological importance of the heavenly world to the author’s argument, see M. Rissi, Die Theologie des Hebräerbriefs: Ihre Verankerung in der Situation des Verfassers und seiner Leser (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ) –. On the exordium of .- as prefiguring the author’s Son of God Christology, see Scott D. Mackie, ‘Confession of the Son of God in the Exordium of Hebrews’, JSNT () – , esp. –. John P. Meier (‘Structure and Theology in Heb ,-’, Bib [] –
JOSHUA W. JIPP
makes it tempting to assume that the unspecified name is κύριος, the inheritance of the name surely must be that of ‘Son given the father/sonship language of . and the fact that the author begins his sermon by using the metaphor of son in .’. By using the perfect form of the verb κληρονομέω the author emphasizes and foregrounds the Son’s inheritance. The reader is, therefore, reminded of the fact that the author has just prior claimed that God appointed this Son ‘heir of all things’ (ὃν ἔθηκɛν κληρονόμον πάντων, .b). This reality of the Son being described both as ‘heir of all things’ (.) and inheriting the name Son (.) is not insignificant for humanity, for in . the author claims that the angels are ministers for ‘those who are about to inherit salvation’ (διὰ τοὺς μέλλοντας κληρονομɛῖν σωτηρίαν). While the precise relationship between the Son’s inheritance and humanity’s inheritance is left ambiguous at this point in the author’s argument, the readers are, nevertheless, given a subtle indication that Jesus’ inheritance of sonship will have soteriological ramifications for humanity. Second, the two LXX citations in ., which are from Ps . and Sam . respectively, demand that the reader view the catena of ch. as depicting and celebrating the enthronement of the Son to the heavenly realm. Both Ps . and Sam . are royal pronouncements which speak of a Davidic son who enters into kingly rule on behalf of God’s people. The tradition history of the use of these verses within the NT and their Septuagintal context strongly confirms that they should be read within Hebrews as referring to the Son’s resurrection/exaltation
) argues that the characteristics of the Son in .- correspond structurally to the Septuagintal quotations in .-. So, Scott D. Mackie, ‘Confession of the Son of God in Hebrews’, NTS () –, here –; Thompson, ‘The Structure and Purpose of the Catena in Heb :-’, . Scott W. Hahn (Kinship by Covenant: A Canonical Approach to the Fulfillment of God’s Saving Promises [New Haven: Yale University, ], ) similarly argues that the name is given in v. —‘the firstborn son’. See, however, Richard Bauckham [‘Monotheism and Christology in Hebrews ’, ] who argues that the one who already exists as the Son inherits the divine name, the tetragrammaton, on parallel with Phil .. Bauckham is clearly concerned to deny the claim that Jesus became the Son at the resurrection/exaltation. See also, Richard Bauckham, ‘The Divinity of Jesus Christ in the Epistle to the Hebrews’, The Epistle to the Hebrews and Christian Theology (ed. Richard Bauckham et al.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ) –, esp. – and . That verbal tense forms not only indicate aspect but also function to differentiate planes of discourse is argued by Stanley E. Porter, Idioms of the Greek New Testament (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, ) –. Gabriella Gelardini (‘Verhärtet eure Herzen nicht’: Der Hebräer, Eine Synagogenhomilie Zu Tischa Be-Aw [Leiden: Brill, ] ) argues regarding Heb .-: ‘Die gerechte und ewig währende Sohn-/Herrschaft des in die Welt eingeführten und erhöhten Sohnes wird der Dienerschaft der Engel gegenübergestellt’.
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
(cf. Mark .; Acts .-; .; Rom .-). It is significant, for example, that Psalm refers to a king whom God sets over Zion (βασιλɛὺς … ἐπὶ Σιων ὄρος τὸ ἅγιον, .; cf. Heb .-) who obtains the world as his inheritance (τὴν κληρονομίαν, .). And likewise Samuel depicts God’s chosen king as his Son, a kingly Son who is promised an eternal rule and throne (., ). More important, however, is the fact that the immediate context suggests a scene of enthronement as it declares: ‘he sat down at the right of the majesty in the heavens’ (ἐκάθισɛν ἐν δɛξιᾷ τῆς μɛγαλωσύνης ἐν ὑψηλοῖς, .c). And the next verse refers to him ‘becoming so much better than the angels’ (τοσούτῳ κρɛίττων γɛνόμɛνος τῶν ἀγγέλων, .a). Thus, it should really not be too controversial to read these verses as depicting Jesus’ exaltation to the heavenly realm where he inherits the royal name ‘Son’. This reading is confirmed by the author’s final citation of the catena in . where he invokes LXX Ps .: κάθου ἐκ δɛξιῶν μου, ἕως ἂν θῶ τοὺς ἐχθρούς σου ὑποπόδιον τῶν ποδῶν σου (‘Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet’). Psalm . is, of course, the classic NT prooftext depicting the royal Son’s exaltation to the right hand of the Father’s throne. Psalm . (LXX) establishes a relationship between Zion and God’s heavenly throne room as the exalted heavenly figure is said to rule ‘from Zion’ (ἐκ Σιων). The frequency with which these royal-messianic texts (Pss ; ; and Sam ) are quoted and alluded to within the NT makes it necessary to emphasize that the author uses these texts in order to portray the remarkable reality of the Son’s entrance into the life and power of God. The unstated but obvious premise is that the Son has been resurrected and is now alive in a more real, transcendent, and powerful existence. On the NT usage of these verses, see: Luke T. Johnson, Septuagintal Midrash in the Speeches of Acts (Milwaukee: Marquette, ) –. Probably the most concise and helpful discussion of Pss and is in Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer (Hebr –) (EKK ; Zürich: Benzinger; Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener, ) –. For detailed analyses of the Septuagintal context, tradition-history, and use in the NT of Ps :, see Hay, Glory at the Right Hand: Psalm in Early Christianity; Martin Hengel, ‘ “Sit at My Right Hand!”: The Enthronement of Christ at the Right Hand of God and Psalm :’, Studies in Early Christology (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, ) –; W. R. G. Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefes (WMANT ; Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener, ); Loader, ‘Christ at the Right Hand: Ps cx. in the New Testament’, NTS (–) –. That Hebrews assumes the resurrection of Jesus as necessary for its entire argument is shown convincingly by David M. Moffitt, ‘ “If Another Priest Arises”: Jesus’ Resurrection and the High Priestly Christology of Hebrews’, The Cloud of Witnesses (ed. Bauckham et al.) –. Also, see Gareth E. Cockerill, ‘The Better Resurrection (Heb. :): A Key to the Structure and Rhetorical Purpose of Hebrews ’, TynBul () –. One should not accept, therefore, the common sentiment articulated here by Georg Strecker (Theology of the New Testament [trans. M. Eugene Boring; Louisville: Westminster John Knox; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, ] ): ‘The Letter to the Hebrews does not know the idea of the rising or resurrection of Jesus from the dead’.
JOSHUA W. JIPP
The confluence of these themes, namely the Father / Son relationship and the Son’s inheritance of, and entrance into, the heavenly realm of the Father is continued throughout the chapter. Hebrews . dramatically depicts the Son’s entrance into the heavenly world: ὅταν δὲ πάλιν ɛἰσαγάγῃ τὸν πρωτότοκον ɛἰς τὴν οἰκουμένην, λέγɛι· καὶ προσκυνησάτωσαν αὐτῷ πάντɛς ἄγγɛλοι θɛοῦ (‘and again, when he leads forth the firstborn son into the world, he says, “Let all the angels of God worship him”’). While the exact Septuagintal reference is disputed, a possible conflation of LXX Deut . (προσκυνησάτωσαν αὐτῷ πάντɛς υἱοὶ θɛοῦ) and Deut . (ἀγγέλων θɛοῦ) is the most likely source of the quotation. If Deuteronomy is the source, then the author may have subtly established a relationship between the angels and Sinai. With respect to .a, many interpreters claim that οἰκουμένη should be read as referring to the earthly material world, and that the verse, therefore, depicts the Son’s birth or the Incarnation. This interpretation must, however, be rejected. First, the author’s only other use of the term οἰκουμένη occurs in . where the author states that it is the ‘world which is to come’ (τὴν οἰκουμένην τὴν μέλλουσαν) which is the topic under discussion. Here in . it is stated that this ‘world to come’ was not subjected to angels, the premise being that it was, rather, subjected to the Son (the fuller argument being made in .-). It makes abundant sense, therefore, to view .- as the author’s description of the Son’s entrance into this heavenly reality. After all, the author has described in .-: (a) the Son’s exaltation above all of his enemies (.); (b) his eternal and virtuous rule (.-); (c) It is also possible, however, that Odes . (LXX) and QDt provide evidence of existing textual traditions which already contained the quotation of Heb .. For more on this, see Martin Karrer, ‘The Epistle to the Hebrews and the Septuagint’, Septuagint Research: Issues and Challenges in the Study of the Greek Jewish Scriptures (ed. Wolfgang Kraus and R. Glenn Wooden; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, ) –, esp. –. This is argued for by Kiwoong Son, Zion Symbolism in Hebrews: Hebrews :- as a Hermeneutical Key to the Epistle (Waynesboro, GA: Paternoster, ) . Those who read this text in connection with Luke’s account of Jesus’ baptism include: H. Attridge, Hebrews, –; Montefiore, Hebrews, ; H. W. Bateman (Early Jewish Hermeneutics and Hebrews :- [New York: Lang, ] ). Those who have seen the verse as referring to Jesus’ second coming include: Lane, Hebrews –, ; O. Michel, Der Brief an die Hebräer (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) ; David Peterson, Hebrews and Perfection: An Examination of the Concept of Perfection in the Epistle to the Hebrews (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) ; Ellingworth, Hebrews, ; Ernst Käsemann, The Wandering People of God: An Investigation of the Letter to the Hebrews (Minneapolis: Augsburg, ) –; Gieschen, Angelmorphic Christology, –. So also, Schenk, ‘A Celebration of the Enthroned Son’, ; Ardel B. Caneday, ‘The Eschatological World Already Subjected to the Son’, –. While the οἰκουμένη is still a future hope from the perspective of humanity, it is a present reality for the Son. So David A. deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on the Epistle ‘to the Hebrews’ (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ), .
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
his sharing of God’s eternal throne (.-); and (d) his inheritance of the name ‘Son’ (.-). Thus, ‘the subjection of the inhabited world’ of which the author speaks in . must refer in some measure to these elements. Further, one should not view the author’s statement in . (Διὸ ɛἰσɛρχόμɛνος ɛἰς τὸν κόσμον) as a legitimate parallel which would confirm that . depicts Christ’s incarnation, for the word κόσμον is used here and not οἰκουμένη. Secondly, given that the author has just described the Son’s exaltation to the Father’s right hand in .c-, it is logical to interpret . as continuing this theme. While one could argue that πάλιν functions adverbially, the author frequently uses it in order to connect various quotations (additionally, see . and .). Thus, the author’s use of πάλιν to modify λέγɛι (not ɛἰσαγάγῃ) indicates that a change of topic is not in view and that his citation of the LXX is continuing the theme of the Son’s exaltation from .. The familial title of ὁ πρωτότοκος indicates that . is the third of three explicit Sonship citations. While the language of ‘the firstborn son’ is abundant throughout the LXX, its usage in Ps . where it refers to Israel’s coming Davidic King is especially pertinent. In this Psalm, the Son cries out: ‘You are my Father my God’ (πατήρ μου ɛἶ σύ θɛός μου, LXX Ps .), and in the Father’s act of appointing the Davidide as his πρωτότοκος, the Father makes him ‘exalted above all those who rule the earth’ (ὑψηλὸν παρὰ τοῖς βασιλɛῦσιν τῆς γῆς, .). In doing so, the Father makes the Son’s throne to endure forever and ever (ɛἰς τὸν αἰῶνα τοῦ αἰῶνος … τὸν θρόνον αὐτοῦ, .; note the linguistic similarities with the Son’s throne in Heb .). Thus, Heb . further continues the celebration of .- as it depicts the Father leading his royal firstborn Son into the heavenly realm and commanding the angels to worship this firstborn Son. Hebrews .- continues the celebration of the enthroned Son by comparing the eternal and virtuous character of his throne and rule with the fleeting and perishing order of the material world with which the author surprisingly connects the angels. In . the author refers to God as making the angels as ‘winds’ or ‘spirits’ (πνɛύματα) and ‘flames of fire’ (πυρὸς ϕλόγα). The angels are, in other words,
So rightly, Albert Vanhoye, ‘L’oikoumenē dans l’Épître aux Hébreux’, Bib () –. Against, G. B. Caird, ‘Son by Appointment’, The New Testament Age (ed. William C. Weinrich; Macon, GA: Mercer, ) –, here –. Caneday, ‘The Eschatological World Already Subjected to the Son’, . The author of Hebrews uses πάλιν as a connective in his various Septuagintal strings of quotations. See in particular Heb .-; .; .. On the options and difficulties in deciding where to place πάλιν, see Grässer, An Die Hebräer (Hebr -), . Those who see an allusion to LXX Ps . in . are Luke Timothy Johnson, Hebrews: A Commentary (TNTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, ) –; Bauckham, ‘Monotheism and Christology in Hebrews ’, –; Caird, ‘Son by Appointment’, .
JOSHUA W. JIPP
associated with the sensual material world. The reference to the angels as λɛιτουργοὺς αὐτοῦ confirms this as it looks forward to the author’s claim in . that the angels are λɛιτουργικὰ πνɛύματα whose role is to ensure humanity’s salvation. Reference to the angels as ‘winds’ and ‘flames of fire’ likely evokes a connection between the angels and the Sinai theophany (Exod .; .; ., –; cf. Acts .). That an association with Sinai as physical is intended by the author is evident from ., a text we will examine in more detail shortly, where the author associates Sinai with such things as fire and wind (κɛκαυμένῳ πυρὶ καὶ γνόϕῳ καὶ ζόϕῳ καὶ θυέλλῃ, .b). The reference to the angels as ‘ministers’ (λɛιτουργ-) in both . and . may suggest their function to be that of cultic service whereby they perform cultic worship in the heavenly throne room ( Bar .; Esd .-). In contrast to the angels who are God’s servants and are associated with Sinai, note that when the Son is enthroned to the heavenly realm he becomes a sharer of God’s eternal throne: πρὸς δὲ τὸν υἱόν· ὁ θρόνος σου ὁ θɛὸς ɛἰς τὸν αἰῶνα τοῦ αἰῶνος (‘and to the Son, Your throne O God is forever and ever’, .a). The Son not only enters into the sphere of God but also becomes a sharer in the eternal rule and reign of God which, as .b- declares, is characterized by the virtues of integrity, righteousness, and a hatred of lawlessness. While the created order associated with the angels will disappear and is even now disappearing, the Son’s throne and rule will last forever (.-). The author quotes LXX Ps .- in order to establish the Son’s rule over all of creation, including the angels (.), something hinted at already in . where the author claimed that the Son was active in creation. The heavens and the earth will perish and be rolled up like a garment but the Son’s years will never come to an end (.-). Whereas the angels are associated with the transience of the created world (.), the enthroned Son’s share in the Father’s throne ensures that his years will never cease (.b). We may now ask the question: why has the author singled out the angels as the foil in his comparison between them and the Son? What is it precisely which makes the contrast between the Son and the angels useful to the author’s argument? First, the connection between the angels and the giving of the law at Sinai is frequently attested in post-biblical Jewish literature as a means of describing the Law’s glory (Jub. .; Josephus, Ant. .; Acts ., ; Gal .). In one text God’s angel is described as ‘the mediator between God and men for the peace of Israel’ (Test Dan .). The author of Hebrews makes this connection between the angels and Sinai explicit in . where ‘the word which was spoken through This point is made in detail by Kenneth L. Schenk, Cosmology and Eschatology in Hebrews: The Settings of the Sacrifice (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –. See Schenk, ‘A Celebration of the Enthroned Son’, . So also Thompson, ‘The Structure and Purpose of the Catena in Heb :-’, –. Bauckham, ‘Monotheism and Christology in Hebrews ’, .
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
angels’ is contrasted with God’s new revelation in Christ (.). Insofar, then, as the angels are associated with the Torah, they are inferior to the heavenly Zion (.). Second, the author’s establishment of the relationship between the angels and the created order which is temporal, mutable, and ultimately destined to perish functions as a contrast with the heavenly Zion and the Son’s throne which is eternal and unchanging. Finally, given that the angels inhabit the heavenly Jerusalem (see .b; .), it is necessary that the author establish that it is humanity—not angels—which occupies the attention of God’s salvific purposes. Thus, the author’s claim that God ‘did not subject the coming world to angels’ (Οὐ γὰρ ἀγγέλοις ὑπέταξɛν τὴν οἰκουμένην τὴν μέλλουσαν, .) establishes that it is humanity which occupies the center of God’s purposes. Three points should be kept in mind as we continue our exploration of the author’s Son-of-God-Christology. First, the significance of the filial language should not be underestimated. The author has chosen to begin his argument with a catena of quotations which is dominated by the relationship between the Father and the Son. The first and second of the LXX quotations (.) in Hebrews are proclamations of Jesus’ Sonship directly proceeding from the Father’s mouth. It is precisely because he is the Son of God the Father that Jesus can share in his sovereignty. Second, the catena of Septuagintal quotations focuses upon celebrating Jesus’ inheritance of the name Son as he is enthroned upon his Father’s throne and enters into the heavenly realm. The author systematically applies royal-messianic texts to the Son and does so in a way that emphasizes this rule as, not the earthly kingdom of the Son of David, but the cosmic reign of the one who has entered into God’s own life. Third, the author opposes the rule of the Son which is characterized by eternality with that of the angels who are associated with the temporal and even dying created order. I suggest that these three claims function as the indispensable and foundational premises for much of the rest of the author’s argument. . Hebrews .- and the Firstborn Children’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
The significance of the catena in Heb .- as well as its purpose and importance for the entire sermon become more evident when one compares it with the author’s final argument in .-, a passage which contains many of the same themes. Like .-. the author initially establishes the superiority of the Son and the heavenly Jerusalem (.-; .-) and then sets forth a Bauckham, ‘Monotheism and Christology in Hebrews ’, . Barnabas Lindars (‘The Rhetorical Structure of Hebrews’, NTS [] –, here ) refers to Heb .- as the ‘grand finale’ of the author’s argument. While ch. is certainly critical to the composition as a whole, the author concludes the actual argument of his exhortation in .-. On the relation of Heb to the rest of the epistle, see Floyd V. Filson, ‘Yesterday’: A Study of Hebrews in the Light of Chapter (SBT /; Naperville, IL: Allenson,
JOSHUA W. JIPP
warning not to ignore this superior revelation (.-; .-). There seems to be in fact something of an inclusio between Heb .- and .-. Whereas the author begins his composition by celebrating the firstborn Son’s inheritance and entrance into the heavenly realm, he concludes by celebrating the proleptic inheritance of the firstborn sons as they enter into the heavenly Jerusalem. Whereas the catena celebrates the eternal and unchanging reign of the Son’s kingdom in opposition to the transience of the material world, the author concludes with a contrast between the unshakeable heavenly ‘city of the living God’ (.) and the created order which will come to an end (.-). While this insight is significant in establishing the importance of the themes found in Heb .-, only a few comments need to be made here in order to make this point. First, as the Son’s rule is contrasted with the material creation which will perish and fade away (.-), so is the assembly of the sons in heaven contrasted with the sensual phenomena of the Sinai event. This is vividly captured in the author’s statement: ‘for you have not come to a place which can be touched and a burning fire and to darkness and gloom and a whirlwind’ (Οὐ
γὰρ προσɛληλύθατɛ ψηλαϕωμένῳ καὶ κɛκαυμένῳ πυρὶ καὶ γνόϕῳ καὶ ζόϕῳ και θυέλλῃ, .). Note how in Heb . the author reduces the importance of the angels precisely by comparing them to the transient and sensual elements of ‘wind’ (πνɛύματα) and ‘flames of fire’ (πυρὸς ϕλόγα). The author’s strategy of associating the angels as the mediators of the Sinai covenant in .- is reused again here as the author now associates the Sinai theophany with the sensual and temporal (.-). The entire created order, to which the Sinai covenant belongs, the author warns, will be destroyed for as God has promised, ‘Still once more I will shake not only the earth but even the heaven’ (.b). The author interprets this quote from Hag . to mean that in a little while God will ‘remove the things that are shaken as things that have been made, so that what is not shaken may remain’ (.b). Again, the warning corresponds quite
). Koester (Hebrews, ) suggests briefly that a relationship exists between .- and .-. So also, see Schenk, Cosmology and Eschatology in Hebrews, –. I am sympathetic to Kiwoong Son (Zion Symbolism in Hebrews, –) who sees an inclusio between Heb .- and .- and .-, but he inexplicably excludes .- because he fails to see the overlapping motifs of .- and .-. Albert Vanhoye (Structure and Message of the Epistle to the Hebrews [SB ; Rome: Editrice Pontificia Istituto Biblico, ]) does not comment on the relationship between .- and .-. Note that the author again utilizes the language of ‘to come’ or ‘to enter’. See .-; .; .; .. Much of the language in .- derives from OT accounts of Sinai (Exod / Deut –). See deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude, –. Whether µɛτάθɛσις should be translated as ‘remove’ or ‘change’ is a difficult exegetical problem to resolve. Those inclining toward ‘remove’ are Attridge, Hebrews, –; Ellingworth, The Epistle to the Hebrews, –; Edward Adams, The Stars will Fall from
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
directly to the first chapter where the Son’s throne is referred to as eternal, unending, and unchanging (., ), but the created order is said to be destined for destruction (.), is in the process of being made old (.), and is being rolled up like a garment (.). Secondly, the author makes the important claim that his audience has now come to ‘Mount Zion, the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem…’ (Σιὼν ὄρɛι καὶ πόλɛι θɛοῦ ζῶντος, ’Ιɛρουσαλὴμ ἐπουρανίῳ, .a). The mention of Mount Zion evokes the royal Davidic dynasty and kingdom, perhaps most emphatically associated with such texts as Samuel , Psalms , , and —all of which appear in some sense in Heb .- in order to portray the Son’s entrance into his heavenly kingdom and reign (respectively: Heb .b, a, a, and b). The author’s key move here, a move common to early Christian exegesis, is to associate the fulfillment of these promises, namely of an everlasting royal Davidic kingdom associated with God’s kingly rule, with Jesus Christ’s resurrection and exaltation. This ‘city of the living God’ (πόλɛι θɛοῦ ζῶντος, .) which is ‘the heavenly Jerusalem’ (’Ιɛρουσαλὴμ ἐπουρανίῳ) is the goal of the pilgrimage of both the ancients and the audience. The former, we are told, made no remembrance of their earthly homeland for they were looking for the better heavenly city which God had prepared for them (.). The same goal is held out for the audience, as we will see later, as they run toward the exalted Son (.-). Thirdly, the reader should note the parallel between Heb .- and the mention of the ‘myriads of angels in a festal celebration’ (μυριάσιν ἀγγέλων, πανηγύρɛι, .b). The mention of the angels not only evokes the hearer’s recollection of .-, but it makes another thematic connection between one of the functions of the angels. In . the angels are called upon to celebrate and worship the Son as he enters into God’s rule, and here in . the angels are also said to exist in a festal celebration together with the assembly of the firstborn children (.).
Heaven: Cosmic Catastrophe in the New Testament and its World (London/New York: T&T Clark, ) –; deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude, –. Scott D. Mackie (Eschatology and Exhortation in the Epistle to the Hebrews [WUNT .; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, ], –) argues for the translation ‘change’ by attempting to situate Heb .- within a Jewish apocalyptic context. This point is noted by Johnson, Hebrews, –. Koester, however (Hebrews, –) does not explore the importance of the language of ‘Zion’, ‘firstborn’, and other themes which relate back to Heb .-. On the theological significance of Zion for the author of Hebrews, see Kiwoong Son, Zion Symbolism in Hebrews, –. On which, see Donald Juel, Messianic Exegesis: Christological Interpretation of the Old Testament in Early Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress, ) esp. –, –. On the heavenly Jerusalem, see Gal .-; Rev .–.; Esd .; .; .-; .; Apoc Bar .-; En .-; and Test Lev .-.
JOSHUA W. JIPP
Fourthly, the occurrence of the phrase ‘the assembly of firstborn sons enrolled in the heavens’ (ἐκκλησίᾳ πρωτοτόκων ἀπογɛγραμμένων ἐν οὐρανοῖς) should also remind the audience of the mention of Jesus in . as ‘the firstborn Son’ (τὸν πρωτότοκον). What is remarkable here is that the author begins his composition with the depiction of the royal firstborn Son’s entrance into the heavenly οἰκουμένη and concludes it with the claim that heaven is now enrolled or registered with firstborn sons. Somehow humanity inherits the role and title of firstborn children of God from the firstborn Son of God. The reader should expect, therefore, in view of the beginning and end of the composition, that the author will explain how the exaltation of the Son of God into heaven functions so as to accomplish the entrance of many more sons into heaven. Finally, note that these firstborn sons in heaven are referred to as ‘spirits of the righteous ones perfected’ (πνɛύμασι δικαίων τɛτɛλɛιωμένων, .b). This final occurrence of τɛλɛιο- indicates that humanity has now fully attained the promise for which it was created, and proleptically indicates the goal of humanity. Whatever the precise connotations of ‘perfection’ in Hebrews, their entry into God’s heavenly presence where Christ has already gone (.; .-; .; .) is surely essential to our understanding. While Hebrews does not use the language of τɛλɛιο- to describe the Son’s enthronement, I suggest that the catena in fact paints a hymnic portrait of the Son entering into this state of perfection and this will be borne out in more detail when we examine Hebrews and . This language of perfection, I will suggest, refers both to the process of one’s moral development and to the subsequent result of entry into God’s life and promises. That humanity is referred to by the adjective ‘righteous’ here in . echoes the Son’s own kingly rule which is characterized by ‘a love of righteousness’ (.-, esp. a) and further supports the contention that perfection refers, in part, to moral development. Knowing that the work is bookended by the Son’s entrance into heaven (.-) and the proleptic entrance of sons into heaven (.-), the interpreter has good reason to read the middle of the text searching for clues as to the process whereby this takes place. It is important to emphasize that in . the referent is plural (πρωτοτόκων ἀπογɛγραμμένων). Gieschen (Angelmorphic Christology, –) wrongly translates and makes observations on . as though the direct reference was to Jesus as the firstborn Son. The language is political. In . the Son enters into a royal kingdom or οἰκουμένη. He is, of course, the royal Son and the language of πρωτοτόκων echoes Ps (.; .). The language of ἀπογɛγραμμένων, likewise, is political or legal and is frequently used to speak of citizenship. See Koester, Hebrews, . Attridge, Hebrews, ; deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude, . Johnson, Hebrews, –; Schenk, Cosmology and Eschatology in Hebrews, . Marie E. Isaacs (Sacred Space: An Approach to the Theology of Hebrews [JSNTSS ; Sheffield: JSOT, ] –) is attentive to what I refer to as the composition’s bookends as well as to the fact that the author views salvation proleptically in .- as Jesus is the forerunner of humanity in his entrance into God’s presence.
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
I have tried to show that the author has created something of an inclusio between the first (.-) and last (.-) major sections of his argument. In the process, I have attempted to demonstrate that the catena of Hebrews is a celebration of the exalted Son who has entered into God’s kingdom, a rule which is characterized as heavenly, eternal, pure, and virtuous. While I have not engaged in an exegesis of the passage, I have tried to show that the final section of the sermon (.-) corresponds to the catena in reproducing many of the same themes. What is most striking here is that the heavenly Jerusalem is now filled with not just the Son but an assembly of firstborn children who have been made perfect (.). I suggest, therefore, that as the argument begins with the enthronement of God’s Son and ends with a proleptic portrait of an assembly of God’s children in this heavenly realm, the Son’s exaltation may function as a soteriological necessity for humanity. Does the rest of this text support this suggestion?
. The Soteriological Necessity of the Son’s Enthronement
In this section I want to set forth, all too briefly, four texts which suggest that the author of Hebrews envisions the Son’s narrative, particularly his enthronement as described in .-, as a soteriological necessity, and pattern, for humanity. .. The Firstborn Son Leads his Siblings to Glory: Hebrews .- In Heb .- the author turns from the reign of the exalted Son to humanity’s failure to attain the state of glory and rule which God had promised it in Ps .-. The quotation of Psalm ends with the promise ‘you have subjected all things under his [i.e. humanity’s] feet’ (πάντα ὑπέταξας ὑποκάτω τῶν ποδῶν αὐτοῦ, Heb .a); attentive readers will recognize that the author has, just a mere half-dozen verses before, claimed that God has placed all of the Son’s enemies under his feet (ἕως ἂν θῶ τοὺς ἐχθρούς σου ὑποπόδιον τῶν ποδῶν σου, .b). The Son has entered into God’s heavenly οἰκουμένη (Heb .), but humanity’s hope of inheriting this world (Heb .) has been frustrated. The link with the celebration of Hebrews suggests that the Son has experienced the fulfillment of God’s promise to humanity. From humanity’s present I do not have space to defend my interpretation of the subject of .- as anthropological in the first instance. For an incisive critique of exclusively christological interpretations of Ps .- in Heb .-, see Craig L. Blomberg, ‘ “But We See Jesus”: The Relationship between the Son of Man in Hebrews . and . and the Implications for English Translations’, The Cloud of Witnesses (ed. Bauckham et al.) –. There is much to commend in Blomberg’s critique, and I am sympathetic to his argument. He goes too far in excluding the fact that the author applies the text to Jesus in .. So Gelardini, ‘Verhärtet eure Herzen nicht’, –.
JOSHUA W. JIPP
standpoint, God’s promise to Adam looks to have been thwarted as ‘we do not yet see all things subjected to him’ (.b). The Son has, however, entered into the promise of Psalm as the author describes him as ‘having been crowned with glory and honor’ (δόξῃ καὶ τιμῇ ἐστεϕανωμένον, Heb .b), a direct reference to the promise made in Psalm (δόξῃ καὶ τιμῇ ἐστɛϕάνωσας αὐτόν, Heb .b). Thus, the argument here depends entirely upon the assumption that the Son has already entered into God’s rule—exactly that which we have seen in Heb .-. The Son’s entrance into God’s rule is, however, beneficial for humanity, for it is precisely the Son’s obedient suffering and subsequent exaltation which accomplishes humanity’s salvation. In . the author makes the bold claim that it was fitting, or appropriate, for God ‘in leading many sons to glory to perfect the pioneer of their salvation through sufferings’ (πολλοὺς υἱοὺς ɛἰς δόξαν ἀγαγόντα τὸν ἀρχηγὸν τῆς σωτηρίας αὐτῶν διὰ παθημάτων τɛλɛιῶσαι). It is essential to note the parallel between God leading the firstborn Son into the heavenly world in . (ɛἰσαγάγῃ τὸν πρωτότοκον ɛἰς τὴν οἰκουμένην) and God leading the many sons into glory (πολλοὺς υἱοὺς ɛἰς δόξαν ἀγαγόντα). In each instance, God is the subject who leads his children into a state of perfection. This immediately helps one make sense of Jesus’ title in . as τὸν ἀρχηγόν. Its connotations of source, initiator, and pioneer result from the fact that as ‘the firstborn Son’ Jesus has proleptically entered into God’s rule and heavenly realm in advance of and on behalf of ‘the many sons’. We see here that the author’s choice of ‘firstborn Son’ further functions as a means of identifying Jesus as the head of a family, the elder brother as it were, of God’s children. Thus, as the Father proclaims that Jesus is his Son (.), so the Son directly affirms humanity as his fellow siblings (.-). His participation in their humanity ensures their salvation and their reconciliation with the Father (Heb .-). Finally, we must note that the manner in which humanity is led to glory is accomplished through Jesus being perfected through sufferings (διὰ παθημάτων τɛλɛιῶσαι). The statement is similar to that of .b where we saw Jesus ‘crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death (τὸ πάθημα τοῦ θανάτου)’. In ., sufferings are the means whereby the Son is ‘crowned with glory and honor’, whereas in . sufferings are the means through which the Son is ‘perfected’. Thus, while τɛλɛιόω has a wide semantic Rissi (Die Theologie des Hebräerbriefs, ) states it in this way: ‘Er, der unter die Engel erniedrigt wurde, hat die Herrschaft über die ganze Schöpfung übernommen. Das wissen wir zwar, sehen es aber noch nicht. Wir sehen nur, was am Christus geschah. Die Weltwirklichkeit ist für menschliche Augen dieselbe geblieben wie vorher’. On this term, see G. Johnston, ‘Christ as Archegos’, NTS (–) –. On the significance of Jesus’ public declaration of his identification with humanity, see Mackie, ‘Confession of the Son of God in Hebrews’, NTS () –.
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
range within Hebrews, here its parallel with . strongly connotes the sense of exaltation. .. A High Priest According to the Order of Melchizedek (.-) Perhaps most well known about Hebrews’ Christology is its novel characterization of Jesus as humanity’s high priest. The author is clear, however, that Jesus’ priestly status is of another order than the Levitical priesthood, and he plainly admits that Jesus belongs not to the tribe of Levi, but to the tribe of Judah (.; cf. .; Num .-). Jesus’ priesthood is based not on the Levitical order of priests, but ‘according to the order of Melchizedek’ (.b, b). What is central to my thesis here is the rarely noted fact that the author’s argument for Jesus’ Melchizedekian priesthood is based on the audience’s acceptance of the prior claim, made in Heb .-, that Jesus is God’s royal and heavenly enthroned Son. After claiming in . that no high priest takes the honor on his own initiative, but is rather called by God, the author suggests analogically that the same process took place with Jesus’ appointment to high priest. Just as the Father ‘spoke to him, “You are my Son, today I have begot you”’ (ὁ λαλήσας πρὸς αὐτόν· υἱός μου ɛἶ σύ, ἐγὼ σήμɛρον γɛγέννηκά σɛ, .b; quoting Ps .), so also Jesus receives his high priesthood from the one speaking to him: ‘You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek’ (σὺ ἱɛρɛὺς ɛἰς τὸν αἰῶνα κατὰ τὴν τάξιν Μɛλχισέδɛκ, .). It is important to note that the author intentionally draws the reader back to the royal celebration of the enthroned Son by means of quoting Ps ., one of the central texts quoted in the opening catena to celebrate the Son’s exaltation (Heb .). The author’s innovation here is to draw upon the common early Christian strategy of applying texts such as Ps . (Heb .) and Ps . (Heb .), which depict the Son’s exaltation, as the foundation for extending the claim that the Father has also spoken the words of Ps . to the Son. Thus, it is not too much of an exaggeration to say that the author’s high priestly christology is founded upon the Son of God’s entrance into the heavenly kingdom. .. An Eternal High Priest with an Indestructible Life (.-) What are the characteristics of this Melchizedekian priesthood? In ch. , we have seen that the Son’s ‘having been perfected’ (τɛλɛιωθɛίς, .) is parallel to God’s ‘designating (προσαγορɛυθɛίς) him … a priest according to the order of Melchizedek’ (.). Thus, it is only after the Son has been perfected that he Τɛλɛιο- language occurs in philosophical texts to speak of moral maturity, in texts referring to initiations into religious mysteries, and in the Septuagint often to refer to cultic ordination. For a good discussion of the religious background of this word group and its usage in Hebrews, see deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude, –. Johnson (Hebrews, ) rightly notes that the author’s quotation of Ps . ‘triggers the hearers’ memory of the words of God that certified Jesus as the very Son who had been enthroned at God’s right hand (Heb :-)’. So deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude, –.
JOSHUA W. JIPP
becomes a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek. Why is it that God’s act of ‘perfecting’ the Son is parallel to God’s ‘designating’ him as an eternal priest? I suggest that it is precisely the key attribute of the Melchizedekian priest of ‘the power of an indestructible life’ (.) which is parallel to God’s act of perfecting the Son. The author fastens upon the words of Ps ., ‘you are a priest forever’ (σὺ ἱɛρɛὺς ɛἰς τὸν αἰῶνα; .; ., ), and it is precisely this quality of the Son’s eternality which qualifies him to be the Melchizedekian priest. In ch. , the author claims that the Son prayed to ‘the one able to save him out of death (ἐκ θανάτου)’ and that ‘he was heard because of his piety’ (ɛἰσακουσθɛὶς ἀπὸ τῆς ɛὐλαβɛίας, .). That the Son ‘was heard’ by God must be taken to indicate that the Son was saved ‘out of death’. Given the fact, however, that the author has made the point that the Son ‘tasted death for everyone’ (.b), attained perfection through sufferings (.), and defeated death through his own death (.), the author cannot mean that Jesus was spared from the experience of death. Since Jesus was not saved from this experience, in order for the author’s claim that God ‘heard him’ to have any meaningful substance, it must refer to something that happened to Jesus after he died. The description of God in . is similar to ., ἐκ νɛκρῶν ἐγɛίρɛιν δυνατὸς ὁ θɛός, which is a clear reference to God’s ability to raise Isaac from the dead. Jesus, then, does not escape or avoid death but overcomes it through God’s act of resurrection/exaltation. This emphasis on life and eternality in opposition to death and temporality is the primary trait of the Melchizedekian priesthood and is confirmed throughout ch. . Thus, Melchizedek is like the Son due to his ‘having no end of life’ (μήτɛ ζωῆς τέλος ἔχων, .), being testified to as ‘living’ (ζῇ, .), and having ‘the power of an indestructible life’ (δύναμιν ζωῆς ἀκαταλύτου, .). Whereas many Levites have been high priests due to death (.), Jesus holds the priesthood perpetually because ‘he remains forever’ (ὁ δὲ διὰ τὸ μένɛιν αὐτὸν ɛἰς τὸν αἰῶνα, .; cf. Ps .) and he ‘always lives to intercede on [humanity’s] behalf’ (πάντοτɛ ζῶν ɛἰς τὸ ἐντυγχάνɛιν ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν, .b). The author’s final statement that God’s oath (i.e. Ps .) appoints as high priest ‘a son made perfect forever’ (υἱὸν ɛἰς τὸν αἰῶνα τɛτɛλɛιωμένον, .) strongly echoes the event in .-. The relationship between these texts suggests that the Son’s perfection refers to the event where he was raised from the dead and Kenneth L. Schenk, ‘Keeping his Appointment: Creation and Enthronement in Hebrews’, JSNT () –, here . I translate ἐκ θανάτου ‘out of death’ instead of ‘from death’ in order to avoid a misreading of the passage that would suggest that Jesus prayed that he would be able to avoid death. Such an interpretation would stand in serious contradiction to Heb .-. So, David M. Moffitt, ‘ “If Another Priest Arises”’, . So also, Johnson, Hebrews, –. See Isaacs, Sacred Space, –.
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
entered into the enduring quality of God’s life—something depicted in Heb . (LXX Ps .-) where it is said to the Son that his throne ‘is forever’ (.), that creation will perish but ‘you will remain’ (.), and ‘your years will not be erased’ (.). .. ‘Looking Away to Jesus’ (.-) The argument of Heb .- also depends upon the opening salvo of .- as the author’s command to finish the race depends upon the audience granting both the claim that Jesus has entered into God’s own life (Heb .-) and that he is their elder human brother (Heb .-). Specifically, the runners are to ‘look away to Jesus the author and perfecter of the faith’ (ἀϕορῶντɛς ɛἰς τὸν τῆς πίστɛως ἀρχηγὸν καὶ τɛλɛιωτὴν ᾽Ιησοῦν). The injunction commands them to look ahead to Jesus who has already finished the race—the same contest in which they are now competing (.-). The mentioning of the proper name ‘Jesus’ emphasizes the Son of God’s human nature and thereby his solidarity with humanity (cf. .-; .-). The description of Jesus as both ἀρχηγὸς καὶ τɛλɛιωτής carries the connotations of the originator/beginner and finisher. That Jesus is the ἀρχηγός of humanity’s faith recalls . where the author declared that God ‘perfected the ἀρχηγός of their salvation through sufferings’. Jesus is the originator of both ‘faith’ (.) and ‘salvation’ (.) in that he is the first one, and thereby humanity’s prototype, to have entered into God’s promises for humanity. Likewise, Jesus is the τɛλɛιωτής of faith in that he brings to completion the faith of the OT heroes—a faith which had yet to attain perfection and inherit the promises (.-). Already we have seen this language of perfection applied to Jesus. In . God perfects Jesus through sufferings; in . Jesus is perfected through his learning obedience through what he suffered; and in . the author speaks, on the basis of his entrance into a resurrected life, of a Son made perfect forever. I suggest that in . these same resonances are at work. Jesus has, through endurance and fidelity to God, finished the race and thereby entered into a perfect form of existence. The author indicates as much in .b where he says of Jesus that ‘for the joy set before him (ὃς ἀντὶ τῆς προκɛιμένης αὐτῷ χαρᾶς), he endured the cross, while thinking lightly of the shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God (ἐν δɛξιᾷ τɛ τοῦ θρόνου τοῦ θɛοῦ κɛκάθικɛν)’. The author again holds up Jesus’ endurance of suffering as a model for his audience (., ; .; .-). While it is possible to translate the preposition ἀντί as ‘instead of’, it makes much better sense to read it as ‘for’ and as indicating the reason for which Jesus endured the cross (cf. So Bauckham, ‘The Divinity of Jesus Christ in the Epistle to the Hebrews’, . So Dennis Hamm, ‘Faith in the Epistle to the Hebrews: The Jesus Factor’, CBQ () – , here –.
JOSHUA W. JIPP
.). The joy which Jesus enters into is described in .b with the familiar words of Ps .: ‘he has taken his seat (κɛκάθικɛν) at the right hand of the throne of God’. The author foregrounds Jesus’ exaltation through his use of the perfect tense and further emphasizes the event and continuing state of Jesus’ exaltation. The joy that was set before the earthly Jesus was, therefore, his promised exaltation to the right hand of God—a promised state which he has now entered into. When the author calls upon the audience to consider (.) and fix their gaze (.) upon this one who endured such hardship, he sets before their eyes the perfected Son who has entered into God’s life. And because he is the ‘author and perfecter of faith’, Jesus’ experience functions as the paradigm for humanity’s narrative. The joy which Jesus has entered into, depicted so powerfully in Heb .-, is the goal which lies before the audience.
. The Literary and Theological Function of Hebrews .-
In this essay I have argued three basic points. First, Heb .- depicts the celebration of the final stage of the Son’s narrative as he enters into God’s own life, is exalted to the Father’s right hand, takes up his throne, and inherits the name ‘Son’. The entire theme of the opening argument and each quotation from the LXX, which can be easily sidetracked by the undue focus on the angels, centers upon the Son’s enthronement and the nature of his rule. Secondly, I have demonstrated that there is a literary connection between this text and the author’s final argument in Heb .- which is a proleptic portrait of the heavenly Zion. This text forms an inclusio with Heb .- as both texts portray the heavenly Zion (.), the presence of festive angels (.; .), an emphasis on the heavenly kingdom as eternal in contrast to the temporal/tangible (., -; .-), and the presence of the firstborn Son (.) and firstborn children who have been perfected (.). Thirdly, I have demonstrated that the opening depiction of the enthroned Son is soteriologically necessary for the author’s entire argument. The argument of Hebrews begins, one might say, with the end in that it depicts the final aspect of the Son’s narrative—the Son’s entrance into the heavenly realm. Thus, I suggest that when applied to the Son, at least one of the connotations of the stem τɛλɛιο- is the perfection of his existence as he inherits God’s promises. See N. Clayton Croy, Endurance in Suffering: Hebrews :- in Its Rhetorical Religious and Philosophical Context (SNTSMS ; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) –; Koester, Hebrews, –. One of the problems for those who would wish to interpret ἀντί as ‘instead of’ is the fact that the author uses the language of joy in a positive sense (.; .). It becomes problematic, therefore, to interpret the joy set before Jesus in . as a reference to the fleeting pleasures of sin (such as in .-).
The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World
While the author refrains from applying explicit resurrection language to the Son (except .), one sees the author frequently emphasize the perfected quality of his life. So, for example, he is ‘heard’ because of his piety by ‘the one able to save him from death’ (.-). He is qualified to be humanity’s priest according to the order of Melchizedek because he has been enthroned to God’s right hand (.), as a result of the power of his indestructible life (.), and because he is a ‘Son who has been made eternally perfect’ (.). This aspect of the Son’s narrative is foundational for the rest of humanity also. Just as the Father leads the Son into the heavenly realm (.), so the Father leads humanity into glory through the Son (.). The Son’s attainment of the promises functions so as to release these promises to humanity (.-). Jesus functions, therefore, as the firstborn Son of God (.-), as humanity’s forerunner (.-), as the source of salvation (.), and as providing both the pattern and goal for humanity (.-).
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000160
Short Study
Keine Qua¨storen in Korinth: Zu Goodrichs (und Theißens) These u¨ber das Amt des Erastos (Ro¨m 16.23) ALEXAN D E R W E I S S Universität Leipzig, Historisches Seminar, Beethovenstr. 15, 04107 Leipzig, Deutschland. email:
[email protected]
In a recent article, Goodrich has revived the thesis of Theissen, that Erastos, the οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως (Rom .), held the office of quaestor when Paul met him in Corinth. This article, however, argues that the municipal office of quaestor did not exist in Corinth. Keywords: Erastos, social status, Corinth, Romans
Am Ende des Römerbriefes lässt Paulus Grüße eines gewissen Erastos an die römische Gemeinde ausrichten und bezeichnet ihn bei dieser Gelegenheit als οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως, als Oikonomos von Korinth, dem Abfassungsort des Römerbriefes (Röm .). Dies ist das einzige Mal, dass Paulus ein weltliches Amt einer Person nennt. Welches Amt Paulus aber nun mit diesem Titel genau meint und welcher soziale Rang damit verbunden ist, das nun ist eine Frage, über der reichlich Tinte geflossen ist. Das Amt des οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως kann nämlich in römischer Zeit zu den hohen Ämtern einer Stadt zählen, es kann aber auch von einem öffentlichen Sklaven bekleidet werden und dann ist es kein ‘Amt’ im antiken Sinne, keine Magistratur, sondern ein Verwaltungsposten. Noch viel schwerer wiegt allerdings, dass das Amt des οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως als solches in Korinth gar nicht existierte. Korinth war eine römische colonia, mit vollem Titel colonia Laus Iulia Corinthiensis, eine Stadt mit einem privilegierten römischen Rechtsstatus, in der die Amtssprache Latein war und alle Ämter demzufolge lateinische Titel trugen. Der von Paulus gewählte Amtstitel ist somit als Übertragung eines lateinischen Amtstitels zu verstehen. John K. Goodrich hat jetzt in dieser Zeitschrift dafür plädiert, den Amtstitel des Erastos in Röm ., οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως, als Äquivalent für das Amt des
Keine Quästoren in Korinth
Quästoren zu verstehen. Damit nimmt er eine These auf, die Gerd Theißen zuerst vorgetragen hatte. Theißen hatte sogar eine mehrstufige Karriere, einen cursus honorum des Erastos rekonstruieren wollen. Nach Theißen war Erastos möglicherweise ein Freigelassener, der zum Zeitpunkt des zweiten Aufenthaltes des Paulus in Korinth die Quästur bekleidet habe. Paulus sei ihm während seines Amtsjahres als Quästor begegnet und habe ihn in Röm . ὁ οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως genannt. Später sei Erastos dann zum Ädilen gewählt worden, was Theißen aus der viel diskutierten korinthischen Pflasterinschrift schließt, die ein Erastus pro aedilitate sua pecunia hat legen lassen. Theißens Rekonstruktion hat abgesehen von dem zentralen Problem, auf das wir gleich eingehen werden, noch andere Schwierigkeiten. So kann Erastos kein Freigelassener gewesen sein, weil den Freigelassenen seit der lex Visellia des Jahres n. Chr. die Bewerbung um Ämter (honores et dignitates) ebenso untersagt war wie die Mitgliedschaft im Stadtrat (decurionatum), sofern der Freigelassene nicht durch einen kaiserlichen Akt zum ingenuus, zum Freigeborenen erklärt wurde, ein Privileg, das die Kaiser nur äußerst selten und, soweit zu sehen ist, auch nur an hochrangige Freigelassene des kaiserlichen Hauses verliehen. Weiterhin ist die Identität des Ädilen Erastus aus der Pflasterinschrift mit dem Erastos aus Röm . zwar möglich, aber alles andere als sicher. Darum soll es aber an dieser Stelle gar nicht gehen, sondern wir beschränken uns auf die Frage, ob der Erastos aus Röm . in Korinth das Amt des Quästors bekleidet haben kann. Für diese Interpretation führt Goodrich in dem erwähnten Beitrag jetzt neue Argumente ins Feld. Er stützt sich vor allem auf eine publizierte Inschrift aus Patras, eine weitere colonia der römischen Provinz Achaia. Diese Inschrift nennt einen Neikostratos, der das Amt des οἰκονόμος τῆς κολωνείας, also des Oikonomos der colonia Patras bekleidet hatte, daneben zwei Mal Agonothet war, weiterhin das Amt des Agoranomos und wiederum zwei Mal das Amt des Grammateus innehatte. Eine beachtliche Karriere, aus der sich allerdings noch einige Fragen ergeben. Welche Ämter der colonia Patras sind mit Oikonomos, Agoranomos und Grammateus denn überhaupt gemeint? (Agonothet kann offen gelassen werden, da die Agonotheten nie Jahresbeamte waren, sondern diejenigen, welche die regelmäßig stattfindenden Spiele finanzierten.) Denn auch für J. K. Goodrich, ‘Erastus, Quaestor of Corinth: The Administrative Rank of ὁ οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως (Rom .) in an Achaean Colony’, NTS () –. G. Theißen, Studien zur Soziologie des Urchristentums (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr, . überarb. Aufl. ) –. Cod. Iust. .: Lex Visellia libertinae conditionis homines persequitur, si a quae ingenuorum sunt, circa honores et dignitates ausi fuerint attemptare vel decurionatum adripere, nisi iure aureorum anulorum impetrato a principe sustentantur. Tunc enim quoad vivunt, imaginem, non statum ingenuitatis obtinent et sine periculo ingenuorum etiam officia peragunt publica. Goodrich, ‘Erastus’, - mit dem griechischen Text der Inschrift SEG ., einem Photo und einer englischen Übersetzung der Inschrift.
ALEXANDER WEISS
die colonia Patras gilt natürlich, dass die dortigen Ämter offiziell lateinische Titel trugen. Dazu muss man zunächst klären, in welcher Reihenfolge Neikostratos die Ämter bekleidet hat. Zuerst Oikonomos, dann Agoranomos, dann Grammateus? Ist Oikonomos also das niedrigste, Grammateus das höchste Amt des cursus honorum des Neikostratos? Goodrich entscheidet sich dafür, den Oikonomos hier mit dem Amt des Quästors gleichzusetzen, das in Patras als munizipales Amt belegt ist. Dann läge hier ein aufsteigender cursus vor. Sehr wahrscheinlich ist diese Lösung richtig, auch wenn die Übertragung des höchsten Amtes der colonia Patras, des Duumvirats, mit γραμματεύς ungewöhnlich ware. Daraus ergäbe sich folgende Karriere des Neikostratos in aufsteigender Reihenfolge: Quaestor
Aedilis Duumvir Duumvir iterum
Oἰκονόμος Ἀγορανόμος Γραμματεύς δὶς Γραμματεύς
Dies würde gut zur mutmaßlichen Ämterhierarchie in Patras passen. Neikostratos hätte dann den lokalen cursus in Patras durchlaufen, von der Quästur über die Ädilität zum Duumvirat, das er sogar zwei Mal bekleidet hätte. Diese Rekonstruktion ist durchaus plausibel. Wir hätten damit einen Beleg, dass der Quästor einer römischen colonia im griechischen Sprachgebrauch mit οἰκονόμος übertragen werden kann. Ein wichtiger Befund. Können wir daraus aber folgern, dass auch Erastos in Korinth das Amt des Quästors bekleidet hat? Goodrich meint ja und führt dazu zwei Argumente ins Feld: ) Korinth ist wie Patras eine römische colonia, beide Städte liegen noch dazu in enger Nachbarschaft in derselben Provinz Achaia. Aufgrund dessen hält Goodrich es für sehr wahrscheinlich, dass in Korinth und Patras die gleiche Ämterstruktur zu finden sei (‘an apparently identical political structure’). ) Darüber hinaus sei in Korinth die Quästur als munizipale Magistratur sogar in vier Inschriften belegt, von denen drei aus dem ersten nachchristlichen Jahrhundert stammten. Beide Argumente sind bedauerlicherweise nicht richtig. Patras und Korinth sind zwar beide coloniae in derselben Provinz, aber daraus folgt nicht zwangsläufig dieselbe Ämterstruktur. Die Ordnung der Ämter hatte in den römischen coloniae verschiedene Formen. Die unter Augustus wohl zwischen den Jahren - v. Chr. gegründete colonia Aorea Augusta Patrensis hatte sehr Goodrich, ‘Erastus’, . Goodrich, ‘Erastus’, weist selbst darauf hin, dass in anderen Inschriften aus Patras möglicherweise die Titel στρατηγός oder ἀρχὸς πενταέτηρος als Übertragungen für das Amt des Duumvirn verwendet werden; ἀρχὸς πενταέτηρος allerdings in einem Epigramm, dort also poetischer und kein technischer Sprachgebrauch. Goodrich, ‘Erastus’, .
Keine Quästoren in Korinth
wahrscheinlich eine dreigliedrige Ämterstruktur, aufgefächert in Quästur-ÄdilitätDuumvirat. Korinth jedoch, einige Dekaden früher unter Caesar als colonia Iulia Laus Corinthiensis wiedergegründet, hatte eine zweigliedrige Ämterstruktur, die in Ädilität und Duumvirat unterteilt war. Diese Unterteilung ist für die caesarischen coloniae ganz geläufig, wir kennen sie vor allem aus dem Stadtgesetz der ebenfalls von Caesar gegründeten colonia Urso in Spanien. Dass in Korinth nur zwei reguläre Magistraturen, die Ädilität und das Duumvirat, existierten, wird zur Genüge deutlich, wenn man sich die Zusammenstellung der korinthischen Ämter bei Kent ansieht, dem Herausgeber der in Korinth zwischen – gefundenen Inschriften. Kent kannte ja die vier Inschriften, die Goodrich, wie vordem bereits Theißen, als Beleg für die Quästur in Korinth ansieht, drei davon hat er selbst ediert. Aber er bezieht sie nicht auf ein städtisches Amt und schließt aus den fraglichen Inschriften gerade nicht, dass in Korinth die Quästur als städtische Magistratur existiert hätte. Kent hat sicher Recht, denn die vier Inschriften beziehen sich allesamt nicht auf ein lokales, städtisches Amt in Korinth, sondern auf die senatorische Quästur, die als unterste Magistratur Teil des senatorischen cursus honorum war. Goodrich meint, es sei nicht ganz klar, ob in den korinthischen Inschriften, in denen die Quästur genannt wird, ‘provincial or municipal offices’ gemeint wären. Aber der entscheidende Unterschied besteht nicht zwischen einem munizipalen und einem provinzialen, sondern zwischen einem munizipalen und einem senatorischen Quästor. Die senatorische Quästur konnte man als quaestor urbanus in der Stadt Rom ableisten, als quaestor imperatoris im Dienst des Kaisers oder als quaestor provinciae im Stab eines Provinzstatthalters.
Dazu A. D. Rizakis, Achaïe II. La cité de Patras: épigraphie et histoire (Meletemata ; Athen: Boccard, ) –. Lex Ursonensis §§ – und –. Der Text zuletzt in CIL II , . Text mit englischer Übersetzung bei M. Crawford (Hg.), Roman Statutes ( Bde.; Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Supplement ; London: Institute of Classical Studies, ) .-. Deutsche Übersetzung in H. Freis, Historische Inschriften zur römischen Kaiserzeit (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, ) –. J. H. Kent, The Inscriptions – (Corinth VIII ; Princeton: The American School of Classical Studies at Athens, ) –. Zum senatorischen cursus honorum s. M. Schmidt, Einführung in die lateinische Epigraphik (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, ) –. Goodrich, ‘Erastus’, . Auch Theißen, Studien, hat das nicht gesehen, ebenso wenig A. D. Clarke, Secular and Christian Leadership in Corinth: A Socio-Historical and Exegetical Study of Corinthians – (Leiden: Brill, ) , auf den sich Goodrich, ‘Erastus’, Anm. bezieht. ‘Provinziale Ämter’ gab es in diesem Sinne nicht. Das Amt des quaestor provinciae ist in erster Linie ein senatorisches Amt, ebenso wie das eines Provinzstatthalters, zu dessen Stab der quaestor provinciae gehörte.
ALEXANDER WEISS
Zur Verteidigung von Goodrich und Theißen muss man allerdings anmerken, dass die korinthischen Inschriften, auf die sich beide beziehen, alle nur äußerst fragmentarisch erhalten sind. Aber auch wenn die Karrieren der in den Inschriften genannten Personen aufgrund des sehr schlechten Erhaltungszustandes nur ansatzweise zu rekonstruieren sind, so lässt sich doch erkennen, dass in keiner der Inschriften ein korinthisches Amt gemeint ist. Wir wollen nachfolgend kurz und soweit nötig erläutern, woraus man das schließen kann. ) Kent (Anm. ) Nr. . Zu dieser Inschrift hat Kent selbst darauf verwiesen, dass der hier genannte Cocceius aus der senatorischen Familie der Coccei stammt. Die in der Inschrift vor ihm genannte Person war sicher gleichfalls ein Senator, von dessen Karriere auf dem fragmentarischen Stein nur die senatorische Quästur erhalten geblieben ist. Kent hat die Inschrift daher völlig zu Recht unter dem Kapitel ‘Provincial Governors and Others of Senatorial Rank’ aufgeführt. ) Kent (Anm. ) Nr. . Die mit dieser Inschrift geehrte Person gehörte nicht dem korinthischen Stadtrat an und war offenbar auch kein korinthischer Bürger, denn ihm wurden die ornamenta, die Rangabzeichen der korinthischen Ämter und zwar der Ädilität, des Duumvirates, des quinquennalen Duumvirates und der Agonothesie, ehrenhalber verliehen. Die, nach der Zählung Kents, in der zweiten Zeile genannte Quästur ist so zu verstehen, dass die Inschrift darüber einen absteigenden senatorischen cursus honorum verzeichnete, mit der Quästur als unterster senatorischer Magistratur. Das nächstfolgende höhere Amt in der senatorischen Laufbahn, entweder die Ädilität oder das Volkstribunat, hatte der Geehrte offensichtlich als kaiserlicher Kandidat, als candidatus Imperatoris erlangt, worauf das von Kent sicher richtig gelesene [impe]rat[o]ris verweist. Man schaue sich zum Vergleich die Inschrift Kent Nr. an, die ebenfalls einen Senator nennt, der ehrenhalber die ornamenta erhielt. ) Kent (Anm. ) Nr. . Ein Blick auf die Umzeichnung der Inschrift bei Kent p. zeigt, wie zertrümmert die Inschrift ist. Schon das muss zur Vorsicht mahnen. Kent selbst schreibt, dass sein Vorschlag zur Rekonstruktion der Inschrift insbesondere der Z. - ‘by no means assured’ sei. Das gilt insbesondere für die Lesung [qua]es(tor) in Z. . Nur das S und ein Bruchstück der untersten Haste eines E sind erhalten. Ob an dieser Stelle überhaupt [qua]es(tor) gestanden hat, ist völlig unsicher. Wenn Kents Rekonstruktion der Karriere des in der Inschrift genannten Sospes aber wenigstens teilweise stimmt, dann verweisen das Militärtribunat und die Legionslegatur erneut auf eine senatorische Karriere, zu der dann auch die Quästur gehörte. Man müsste die Inschrift in diesem Fall so verstehen, dass Sospes, nachdem er einige Stufen der senatorischen Zu diesem Vorgang s. schon W. Liebenam, Städteverwaltung im römischen Kaiserreiche (Leipzig: Duncker, ) .
Keine Quästoren in Korinth
Karriereleiter durchlaufen hatte, städtische Ämter in Korinth übernahm, und zwar die Agonothesie und das Duumvirat. ) West Nr. a. Das in der Inschrift über [quae]storem zu lesende IIIIvir verweist uns neuerlich auf eine senatorische Karriere. Die in der Inschrift geehrte Person hatte wohl das Amt des IIIIvir viarum curandarum inne, eines der Ämter des sogenannten Vigintivirates, das in einer senatorischen Laufbahn der Quästur vorausgeht. Keine der Inschriften kann somit als Beleg für das Amt des quaestor coloniae in Korinth herhalten. Im übrigen sind diese vier von Goodrich und Theißen angeführten Texte nicht die einzigen korinthischen Inschriften, in denen die senatorische Quästur genannt wird. Darüber hinaus wäre die ausnahmsweise einmal besser erhaltene Inschrift Kent Nr. zu nennen, in der die senatorische Quästur ebenso als Teil eines senatorischen cursus honorum erwähnt wird wie in der Inschrift AE ,, einer Ehreninschrift für den Senator Herodes Atticus. Sicher zu ergänzen ist das senatorische Amt des quaestor provinciae Achaiae außerdem in der fragmentarischen Inschrift AE ,. So schön es gewesen wäre, über das Amt des Erastos endlich Klarheit zu gewinnen, so bleibt uns angesichts der Quellenlage nur die Schlussfolgerung: Welches Amt auch immer Erastos in Korinth bekleidet hat—die Quästur kann es jedenfalls nicht gewesen sein, denn diese existierte nicht als städtisches Amt in der colonia Laus Iulia Corinthiensis. Es müssen daher noch einmal andere Lösungswege gesucht werden, um das Amt des Erastos zu erklären—aber das ist nicht mehr Aufgabe dieses Beitrags. German abstract: Goodrich hat kürzlich die These von Theißen wiederaufgenommen, Erastos, der οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως (Röm .), habe das Amt des Quästors bekleidet, als Paulus ihm in Korinth begegnete. Dieser Beitrag will dagegen zeigen, dass das städtische Amt eines Quästors in Korinth nicht existierte.
A. B. West, Latin Inscriptions – (Corinth VIII ; Princeton: The American School of Classical Studies at Athens, ). Die Inschrift mit verbesserter Lesung in Année Épigraphique , .
New Test. Stud. , pp. –. © Cambridge University Press, doi:10.1017/S0028688510000172
BOOKS RECEIVED / AULÉN, Gustaf, Christus Victor: An Historical Study of the Three Main Types of the Idea of Atonement (trans. A. G. HEBERT; London: SPCK, ) Pp. xxi + . ISBN ---. £.. BACHMANN̄ , Michael, Anti-Judaism in Galatians? Exegetical Studies on a Polemical Letter and on Paul’s Theology (trans. Robert L. BRAWLEY; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. $./£.. BARKER, Gregory A. and Stephen E. GREGG, Jesus Beyond Christianity: The Classic Texts (Oxford: Oxford University, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. £.. BASSER, Herbert, The Mind Behind the Gospels: A Commentary to Matthew – (Boston: University, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. £.. BEILBY, James K. and Paul R. EDDY, eds., The Historical Jesus: Five Views (London: SPCK, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. £.. BENNEMA, Cornelis, Encountering Jesus: Character Studies in the Gospel of John (Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. £.. BIRD, Michael E., Crossing Over Sea and Land: Jewish Missionary Activity in the Second Temple Period (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ) Pp. xvi + . ISBN ----. $.. BIRD, Michael E. and Preston M. SPRINKLE, eds., The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical and Theological Studies (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, ) Pp. xix + . ISBN ----. $.. BRENT, Allen, A Political History of Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xviii + . ISBN ----. £.. BROWN, Thomas Paterson, Metalogos: Los Evangelios de Tomás, Felipe y la Verdad (Beuenos Aires: Sirio, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. CAMPBELL, Douglas A. The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xx + . ISBN ----. $./£.. CAREY, Holly J., Jesus’ Cry from the Cross: Towards a First-Century Understanding of the Intertextual Relationship Between Psalm and the Narrative of Mark’s Gospel (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xv + . ISBN ----. £.. CHARLESWORTH, James H. and Lee Martin MCDONALD, eds., Jewish and Christian Scriptures: The Function of ‘Canonical’ and ‘Non-Canonical’ Religious Texts (Jewish and Christian Texts in Contexts and Related Studies ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xxii + . ISBN ---. £.. CHARLESWORTH, James H. and Petr POKORNY, eds., Jesus Research: An International Perspective, The First Princeton–Prague Symposium on Jesus Research (Princeton–Prague Symposia Series on the Historical Jesus; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxii + . ISBN ----. $./£.. CHILTON, Bruce and Deirdre GOOD, Starting New Testament Study: Learning & Doing (London: SPCK, ) Pp. ix + . ISBN ----. £.. CLABEAUX, John, NT Greek: A Systems Approach (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. $./£.. CLEMENTS, Keith. The SPCK Introduction to Bonhoeffer (London: SPCK, ) Pp. xix + . £.. COHICK, Lynn H., Women in the World of the Earliest Christians: Illuminating Ancient Ways of Life (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. $.. COMFORT, Philip Wesley, The Poems and Hymns of the New Testament (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, ) Pp. xxiii + . ISBN ----. $.. CONSTANTINEANU, Corneliu, The Social Significance of Reconciliation in Paul’s Theology: Narrative Readings in Romans (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xvi + . ISBN ---. £..
Books Received / CORLEY, Kathleen E., Maranatha: Women’s Funerary Rituals and Christian Origins (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) Pp. xvi + . ISBN ----. CRAFFERT, Pieter F. The Life of a Galilean Shaman: Jesus of Nazareth in AnthropologicalHistorical Perspective (Cambridge: James Clarke, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. CROMHOUT, Markus, Jesus and Identity: Reconstructing Judean Ethnicity in Q (Cambridge: James Clarke, ) Pp. xiv + . ISBN ----. $./£.. DANOVE, Paul, A Grammatical and Exegetical Study of New Testament Verbs of Transference: A Case Frame Guide to Interpretation and Translation (SNTG /LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. £.. DE CARLO, Franco, ‘Dio mio, Dio mio, perché mi hai abbandonato?’ (Mc ,): I Salmi nel racconto della passione di Gesù secondo Marco (Analecta Biblia ; Rome: Gregorian & Biblical, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. DE SOUSA, Mário José Rodrigues, ‘Para que Também vós Acrediteis’: Estudo exegético-teológico de Jo , – (Tesi Gregoriana Serie Teologica ; Rome: Gregorian and Biblical, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. DELGADO, Álvaro Pereira, De apóstol a esclavo: El exemplum de Pablo en Corintios (Analecta Biblica ; Rome: Gregorian & Biblical, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. €.. DEYOUNG, Curtiss Paul, et al., eds., The Peoples’ Companion to the Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) Pp. xxxii + . ISBN ----. EDWARDS, James R., The Hebrew Gospel & the Development of the Synoptic Tradition (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxxiv + . ISBN ----. $./£.. EHRENSPERGER, Kathy, Paul and the Dynamics of Power: Communication and Interaction in the Early Christian Movement (London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xiv + . ISBN ----. £.. ENGBERG-PEDERSEN, Troels, Cosmology & Self in the Apostle Paul: The Material Spirit (Oxford: Oxford University, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. FEE, Gordon D., The First and Second Letters to the Thessalonians (NICNT; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxviii + . ISBN----. $./£.. FLEMMING, Dean, Philippians: A Commentary in the Wesleyan Tradition (New Beacon Bible Commentary; Kansas City: Beacon Hill, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. $.. GILLESPIE, Michael Allen, The Theological Origins of Modernity (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. GREEN, Joel B., ed., Hearing the New Testament: Strategies for Interpretation (nd ed.; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. $./£.. GREEN, Joel B., ed., Methods for Luke (MBI; Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. $./£.. HANSEN, Bruce, ‘All of You are One’: The Social Vision of Gal ., Cor . and Col . (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. £.. HANSEN, G. Walter, The Letter to the Philippians (Pillar New Testament Commentary; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxiii + . ISBN ----. $.. HATINA, Thomas R. ed., Biblical Interpretation in Early Christian Gospels, Volume : The Gospel of Luke (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. HORTON, Dennis J., Death and Resurrection: The Shape and Function of a Literary Motif in the Book of Acts (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. HUFFSTETLER, Joel W., Boundless Love: The Parable of the Prodigal Son and Reconciliation (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. $.. HUTTUNEN, Niko, Paul and Epictetus on Law: A Comparison (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. £.. JOHNSON, Luke Timothy, The Writings of the New Testament (rd ed.; Minneapolis: Fortress, ) Pp. xix + . ----. KÄSEMANN, Ernst, On Being a Disciple of the Crucified Nazarene (trans. Roy A. HARRISVILLE; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxi + . ISBN ----. $./£..
Books Received / KALER, Michael, Flora Tells a Story: The Apocalypse of Paul and Its Contexts (ESCJ; Waterloo, ONT: Wilfrid Laurier University, ) Pp. xiv + . ISBN ----. $.. KAMESAR, Adam, The Cambridge Companion to Philo (Cambridge: Cambridge University, ) Pp. xv + . ISBN ----. $./£.. KEENER, Craig S., The Historical Jesus of the Gospels (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxxviii + . ISBN ----. $./£.. KELBER, Werner H. and Samuel BYRSKOG, eds., Jesus in Memory: Traditions in Oral and Scribal Perspectives (Waco, TX: Baylor University, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. KIMESA, Chantal Ngongsia, ‘L’Agir Puissant du Christ Parmi les Chrétiens’: Une etude exégeticothéologique de Co ,– et Rm ,– (Tesi Gregoriana Serie Teologia ; Rome: Editrice Pontificia Università Gregoriana, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. €.. KLINK, Edward W., III, ed., The Audience of the Gospels: The Origin and Function of the Gospels in Early Christianity (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. viii + . ISBN ----. £.. KONSTANTINOVSKY, Julia S., Evagrius Ponticus: The Making of a Gnostic (Ashgate New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology and Biblical Studies; Farnham, UK: Ashgate, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. KUGLER, Robert and Patrick HARTIN, An Introduction to the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxv + . ISBN ----. $./£.. LAKEY, Michael, Image and Glory of God: Corinthians :– as a Case Study in Bible, Gender and Hermeneutics (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xi + . ISBN ----. £.. LARKIN, Willian J., Ephesians: A Handbook on the Greek Text (Waco, TX: Baylor University, ) Pp. xxviii + . ISBN ----. LEVISON, John R, Filled with the Spirit (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxv + . ISBN ----. $./£.. LIM, Kar Yong, ‘The Sufferings of Christ Are Abundant in Us’: A Narrative Dynamics Investigation of Paul’s Sufferings in Corinthians (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xvi + . ISBN ----. £.. LONGENECKER, Bruce W. and Kelly D. LIEBENGOOD, eds., Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Reception (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. vii + . ISBN ----. $./£.. LOVE, Stuart L., Jesus and Marginal Women: The Gospel of Matthew in Social-Scientific Perspective (Cambridge: James Clarke, ) Pp. xvi + . ISBN ----. $./£.. LÜDEMANN, Gerd and Frank SCHLERITT, Arbeitsübersetzung des Neuen Testaments (UTB ; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. €.. MAXWELL, Kathy, Hearing Between the Lines: The Audience as Fellow-Worker in Luke-Acts and its Literary Milieu (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xiv + . ISBN ----. £.. MCCARTNEY, Dan G., James. (BECNT; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, ) Pp. xxi + . ISBN----. $.. MCDONOUGH, Sean M., Christ as Creator: Origins of a New Testament Doctrine (Oxford: Oxford University, ) Pp. xi + . ISBN ----. £.. MIHAILA, Corin, The Paul-Apollos Relationship and Paul’s Stance Toward Greco-Roman Rhetoric (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xix + . ISBN ----. £.. MITTLEMAN, Alan, Hope in a Democratic Age (Oxford: Oxford University, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. £.. MOUNCE, William D., Basics of Biblical Greek Grammar, Third Ed. Workbook (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. $./£.. MOXNES, Halvor, Ward BLANTON, and James G. CROSSLEY, eds., Jesus Beyond Nationalism: Constructing the Historical Jesus in a Period of Cultural Complexity (London: Equinox, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. £..
Books Received / MUDDIMAN, John and John BARTON, eds., The Pauline Epistles (Oxford Bible Commentary; Oxford: Oxford University, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. NEYREY, Jerome H., The Gospel of John in Cultural and Rhetorical Perspective (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xx + . ISBN ----. $./£.. NICHOLSON, Suzanne, Dynamic Oneness: The Significance and Flexibility of Paul’s One-God Language (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. $.. NIEBUHR, Karl-Wilhem and Robert W. WALL, eds., The Catholic Epistles and Apostolic Tradition: A New Perspective on James to Jude (Waco, TX: Baylor University, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ---. OAKES, Peter, Reading Romans in Pompeii: Paul’s Letter at Ground Level (London: SPCK, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. £.. O’BRIEN, Kelli S., The Use of Scripture in the Markan Passion Narrative (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. O’BRIEN, Peter T., The Letter to the Hebrews (Pillar New Testament Commentary; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xxxiii + . ISBN ----. $.. O’COLLINS, Gerald, SJ and Michael Keenan JONES, Jesus Our Priest: A Christian Approach to the Priesthood of Christ (Oxford: Oxford University, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. £.. OROPEZA, B. J., C. K. ROBERTSON and Douglass C. MOHRMANN, eds., Jesus and Paul: Global Perspectives in Honor of James D. G. Dunn. A Festschrift for his th Birthday (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xxvii + . ISBN ----. £.. PAHL, Michael W., Discerning the ‘Word of the Lord’: The ‘Word of the Lord’ in Thessalonians : (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. PAYNE, Philip B. Man and Woman, One in Christ: An Exegetical and Theological Study of Paul’s Letters (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. PEARCE, Sarah J. K., The Land of the Body: Studies in Philo’s Representation of Egypt (WUNT ; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, ) Pp. xxviii + . ----. PERVO, Richard I. The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) Pp. xv + . ISBN ----. PORTER, Stanley E. and Mark J. BODA, eds., Translating the New Testament: Text, Translation, Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, ) Pp. xvi + . ISBN ---. $./ £.. POWELL, Mark Allan, Introducing the New Testament: A Historical, Literary, and Theological Survey (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. $.. PREGEANT, Russell, Encounter with the New Testament: An Interdisciplinary Approach (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, ) Pp. xxii + . ISBN ----. PUIG I TÀRRECH, d’Armand, ed., La Vertitat i la Mentida (Scripta Biblica ; Tarragona: Associació Biblica de Catalunya, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. RÄISÄNEN, Heikki, The Rise of Christian Beliefs: The Thought World of Early Christians (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) Pp. xxiv + . ISBN ----. RESSEGUE, James L., The Revelation of John: A Narrative Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. $.. RODRIGUEZ, Rafael, Structuring Early Christian Memory: Jesus in Tradition, Performance and Text (European Studies on Christian Origins; LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. ROGERSON, J. W. and John VINCENT, The City in Biblical Perspective (London: Equinox, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. £.. ROWE, C Kavin, World Upside Down: Reading Acts in the Graeco-Roman Age (Oxford: Oxford University, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. £.. RUIS-CAMPS, Josep and Jenny READ-HEIMERDINGER, The Message of Acts in Codex Bezae: A Comparison with the Alexandrian Tradition, Vol. : Acts .–:: Rome (LNTS London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. £..
Books Received / SAMPLEY, J. Paul and Peter LAMPE, eds., Paul and Rhetoric (London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. £.. SECHREST, Love L., A Former Jew: Paul and the Dialectics of Race (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. £.. SHKUL, Minna, Reading Ephesians: Exploring Social Entrepreneurship in the Text (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. £.. SKINNER, Christopher W., John and Thomas—Gospels in Conflict? Johannine Characterization and the Thomas Question (PTMS; Eugene, OR: Pickwick, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN---. SMITH, Daniel A. Revisiting the Empty Tomb: The Early History of Easter (Minneapolis: Fortress, ) Pp. xi + . ISBN ----. SQUIRE, Aelred, Asking the Fathers (London: SPCK, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. £.. STEWART, Eric C., Gathered Around Jesus: An Alternative Spatial Practice in the Gospel of Mark (Cambridge: James Clarke, ) Pp. xiii + . ISBN ----. $./£.. STICHELE, Caroline Vander and Todd PENNER, Contextualizing Gender in Early Christian Discourse: Thinking Beyond Thecla (London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. ix + . ISBN ---. £.. STILL, Todd D. and David G. HORRELL, eds., After the First Urban Christians: The Social-Scientific Study of Pauline Christianity Twenty-Five Years Later (London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. STRUTHERS MALBON, Elizabeth, Mark’s Jesus: Characterization as Narrative Christology (Waco, TX: Baylor University, ) Pp. xi + . ----. TAIT, Michael and Peter OAKES, eds., Torah in the New Testament: Papers Delivered at the Manchester-Lausanne Seminar of June (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. £.. TATUM, W. Barnes, Jesus: A Brief History (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, ) Pp. xviii + . ISBN ---. £.. THISELTON, Anthony C., The Living Paul: An Introduction to the Apostle and his Thought (London: SPCK, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. £.. THOMAS, Rodney Lawrence Thomas, Magical Motifs in the Book of Revelation (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. £.. TITLEY, Robert, A Poetic Discontent: Austin Farrer and the Gospel of Mark (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. TWELFTREE, Graham H., People of the Spirit: Exploring Luke’s View of the Church (London: SPCK/Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. £.. TWOMEY, Jay, The Pastoral Epistles through the Centuries (Blackwell Biblical Commentaries; Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. WARD, Keith, The Word of God?: The Bible after Modern Scholarship (London: SPCK, ) Pp. . ISBN ----. £.. WEBB, Robert L. and Duane F. WATSON, eds., Reading Second Peter with New Eyes (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xviii + . ISBN ----. £.. WELCH, John W., The Sermon on the Mount in Light of the Temple (SOTS; Farnham, UK: Ashgate, ) Pp. xii + . ISBN ----. £.. WINK, Walter, The Bible in Human Transformation (nd ed.; Minneapolis: Fortress, ) Pp. x + . ISBN ----. WITHERINGTON, Ben III, What’s in the Word: Rethinking the Socio-Rhetorical Character of the New Testament (Waco, TX: Baylor University, ) Pp. viii + . ISBN ---. YAMAZAKI-RANSON, Kazuhiko, The Roman Empire in Luke’s Narrative (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xv + . ISBN ----. £..
Books Received / YARBROUGH, Mark M., Paul’s Utilization of Preformed Traditions in Timothy: An Evaluation of the Apostle’s Literary, Rhetorical and Theological Tactics (LNTS ; London: T&T Clark, ) Pp. xvii + . ISBN ----. £.. ZETTERHOLM, Magnus, Approaches to Paul: A Student’s Guide to Recent Scholarship (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, ) Pp. xv + . ISBN ----.
NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES
instructions for contributors Submissions Materials submitted for publication should be sent to the Editor, Professor John M.G. Barclay, at
[email protected] (Mail address: Department of Theology and Religion, Durham University, Abbey House, Palace Green, Durham DH1 3RS, UK). Contributors are requested to send one electronic copy in Microsoft Word or Word Perfect and simultaneously a second copy in pdf format. If pdf-submission is not possible, they are required to send two copies of the typescript to the above mail address, retaining a third copy for checking proofs.
On acceptance of a submission, contributors will be asked to send a final form of the article electronically in both word format (Microsoft Word or Word Perfect) and pdf format; they will also be asked to supply a copy of any font used in the article. They will be expected to check and correct first proofs of their article after it has been typeset.
The author should certify that the article is not being submitted simultaneously to some other journal and explain to the editor the extent of any overlap with books or articles the author has published or is likely to publish in the near future. Articles that appear elsewhere in the same or a different language should not be submitted to this journal. In order to ensure an anonymous reviewing process, contributors are expected to ensure that material submitted bears no indication of their identity either at the head of the article or in references to their own work in the text or footnotes. Upon acceptance of a paper, the author will be asked to assign copyright (on certain conditions) to Cambridge University Press. Contributors are responsible for obtaining permission to reproduce any material in which they do not hold copyright and for ensuring that the appropriate acknowledgements are included in their manuscript.
Offprints Authors of articles and short studies will receive a pdf file of their contribution and a complimentary issue upon publication.
Manuscript preparation New Testament Studies accepts contributions in English, French and German. All articles submitted for publication in this journal are expected to conform to the requirements of the full instructions for contributors which can be found at http://assets.cambridge.org/NTS/NTS_ifc.pdf Submissions should not normally be longer than 8,500 words, including footnotes (i.e. about 20 pages of the current NTS format). All materials should be double-spaced, including footnotes and citations. Special materials (e.g. lists, tables, charts, diagrams) should be typed on sheets separate from the main text, and the location of such material in the main text should be indicated clearly (e.g. ‘insert chart 1 here’). Contributors are asked to supply an abstract of their article, not exceeding 100 words in length, and a list of up to six keywords (for on-line searching). Short studies may be supplied without an abstract.
Proofs Typographical or factual errors only may be changed at proof stage. The publisher reserves the right to charge authors for correction of non-typographical errors.
This journal issue has been printed on FSC-certified paper and cover board. FSC is an independent, non-governmental, not-for-profit organization established to promote the responsible management of the world’s forests. Please see www.fsc.org for information.
© Cambridge University Press 2010 cambridge university press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge cb2 8ru, United Kingdom 32 Avenue of the Americas, New York, ny 10013–2473, usa 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, vic 3207, Australia Ruiz de Alarcón 13, 28014, Madrid, Spain Dock House, The Waterfront, Cape Town 8001, South Africa Printed in the United Kingdom by the University Press, Cambridge.
volume 56 | number 4 | october 2010
NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES Articles
Jane Heath (Aberdeen, UK) ‘Some were saying, ‘‘He is good’’’ (John 7.12b): ‘Good’ Michael Peppard (New York, USA) Christology in John’s Gospel? The Eagle and the Dove: Roman Imperial [513–535] Sonship and the Baptism of Jesus David Briones (Durham, UK) (Mark 1.9-11) Mutual Brokers of Grace: A Study in 2 [431–451] Corinthians 1.3-11 Eve-Marie Becker (Aarhus, Denmark) [536–556] Die markinischen Summarien—ein literarischer und theologischer Schlüssel Joshua W. Jipp (Atlanta, USA) The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World: The zu Markus 1–6 Soteriological Necessity of the Scriptural [452–474] Catena in Hebrews 1.5-14 Lee A. Johnson (North Carolina, USA) [557–575] and Robert C. Tannehill (Ohio, USA) Short Study Lilies Do Not Spin: A Challenge to Female Social Norms Alexander Weiss (Leipzig, Germany) [475–490] Keine Quästoren in Korinth: Zu Goodrichs (und Theißens) These über Friedrich Gustav Lang (Stuttgart, das Amt des Erastos (Röm 16.23) Germany) Abraham geschworen – uns [576–581] gegeben. Syntax und Sinn im Benediktus (Lukas 1.68–79) Books Received 2009 / 2010 [491–512] [582–587]
Cambridge Journals Online For further information about this journal please go to the journal website at:
journals.cambridge.org/nts
