tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-125585322024-02-28T08:38:15.762-08:00Bible Project"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear ... "
~1 John 4:18~Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger109125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-87081604058055682212007-07-27T17:22:00.000-07:002007-07-27T17:33:03.503-07:00Major Quake, Tsunami Likely in Middle East, Study Finds<img src="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/bigphotos/images/070726-lebanon-quake_big.jpg"/><br />The Middle East region—especially coastal cities such as Beirut, above—faces an impending earthquake from an underwater fault that rumbles every 1,500 years, scientists say. A Beirut research team recently identified the fault as the likely cause of a devastating quake in A.D. 551, which struck the coast of Phoenicia, now Lebanon. Photograph by Barry Iverson/Time & Life Pictures/Getty<br /><br /><br />Major Quake, Tsunami Likely in Middle East, Study Finds<br />Kate Ravilious<br />for National Geographic News<br />July 26, 2007<br /> <br />In A.D. 551, a massive earthquake spawned huge tsunamis that devastated the coast of Phoenicia, now Lebanon.<br />Now a new underwater survey has finally uncovered the fault likely responsible for the catastrophe and shown that it rumbles approximately every 1,500 years—which means a disaster is due any day now.<br />"It is just a matter of time before a destructive tsunami hits this region again," said Iain Stewart, an earthquake expert at the University of Plymouth in the United Kingdom not involved in the underwater survey.<br />The ample archaeological and historical evidence from the A.D. 551 earthquake indicate that it was truly a catastrophic event. The resulting tsunami damaged all major coastal cities between Tripoli and Tyr, and Tripoli was reported to have "drowned." (See a Lebanon map.)<br />Hitting the Jackpot<br />Earthquakes are common in Lebanon, but many of the faults remain hidden beneath the deep waters of the Mediterranean Sea.<br />Surveying the region is difficult because some of the continental shelf drops off very quickly in places, reaching water depths of around 4,921 feet (1,500 meters) only five miles (eight kilometers) from the shore.<br />Ata Elias of the National Center for Geophysical Research in Beirut, Lebanon, and his colleagues had a hunch that the fault responsible for the A.D. 551 earthquake would lie in this offshore region. So they did an underwater geophysical survey—and "hit the jackpot," Elias said.<br />By bouncing radio waves off the sea floor and studying the reflection patterns, Elias and his team were able to build a three-dimensional map showing all the lumps and bumps on the ocean bottom.<br />Running parallel to the Middle Eastern coast, they discovered a distinctive stepped ridge—the shape made by a "thrust" fault when one of Earth's tectonic plates shoves its way beneath another.<br />"We inferred that this thrust fault is the source of major earthquakes," Elias said.<br />The team was able to trace this fault along the coast for more than 62 miles (100 kilometers).<br />The findings are published in the August issue of the journal Geology.<br />Shell Secrets<br />Back on land the team found additional evidence to link this fault to the A.D. 551 earthquake. A "staircase" of platforms rising from present-day sea level shows how the land had moved upward each time the thrust fault moved.<br />Each time the thrust fault ruptured it lifted the coastline by around three feet (a meter), Elias said.<br />When the platforms were at sea level they were colonized by mollusks. But as soon as they were thrust out of the water by an earthquake the mollusks died.<br />By dating the mollusk shells on the raised platforms, Elias' team could determine when the thrust fault moved.<br />At least four earthquakes similar to the A.D. 551 quake have occurred over the past 6,000 to 7,000 years, the team found—suggesting a 1,500- to 1,750-year recurrence time for destructive quakes.<br />From the length of the thrust fault and the amount of uplift of the platforms on land, Elias and his colleagues estimate that the A.D. 551 earthquake must have had a magnitude of about 7.5 on the Moment magnitude scale, a more modern form of measurement than the Richter scale. <br />When the fault ruptured in A.D. 551, part of the the seafloor collapsed by around 5 to 10 feet (1.5 to 3 meters). This drop triggered a surging tsunami, which gained height rapidly as it pushed toward land.<br />Stewart of the University of Plymouth said the study is interesting, but remains cautious about blaming the newfound thrust fault for the A.D. 551 event.<br />"The Mediterranean has a lot of big earthquakes and there are lots of benches [platforms] everywhere. It is hard to link those benches to a particular fault," he said. (Related: "Ancient Tsunami Smashed Europe, Middle East, Study Says" [December 4, 2006].)<br />Nonetheless, he believes that the risk of another big earthquake occurring is very high, and should be taken seriously.<br />"In the past this area has had a lot of big earthquakes and tsunamis, but in modern history it has been quite quiet," Stewart said.<br />"We have been lulled into a false sense of security, just like we were in the [2004 Indian Ocean earthquake]."<br />Drowned Cities<br />Some of the many historical records from the time of the A.D. 551 earthquake describe the complete ruin of Berytus (Beirut), Jewel of Phoenicia, and the sea retreating one to two Roman miles, or 4,921 to 9,842 feet (1,500 to 3,000 meters) from shore, enough to ground mooring ships and uncover sunken ones.<br />More than 30,000 people died in Beirut alone. (Who were the Phoenicians?)<br />"If this earthquake and tsunami were repeated today, it would be a disaster of enormous proportions," said Sanford Holst, an author and expert on ancient Phoenicia.<br />More than 70 percent of Lebanon's roughly 4 million people live along the coast. The seaport of Beirut has a population of 1.5 million.<br />What's more, much of the country's infrastructure is also located along the coast. Major highways, electrical power stations, airports, and economic centers are all next to the sea, Elias said.<br />To prepare for the next big quake, many of the tall buildings that line the coast need to be reinforced to withstand earthquakes. New buildings need to be built with large earthquakes in mind. And people need to be informed.<br />"We need an earthquake and tsunami alert system and proper emergency plans," Elias said. <br /><br /><br /><br /><img src="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/bigphotos/images/061204-tsunami-israel_big.jpg"/><br />A cinder cone rises from the flank of Mount Etna in Italy. A new study says that an ancient landslide on Mount Etna triggered a series of killer waves along the Mediterranean coast from Italy to Egypt, wiping out Stone Age settlements. Photograph by J. Lowenstern/USGS<br /><br /><br /><br />Ancient Tsunami Smashed Europe, Middle East, Study Says<br />James Owen<br />for National Geographic News<br />December 4, 2006<br /><br />A massive tsunami smashed Mediterranean shores some 8,000 years ago when a giant chunk of volcano fell into the sea, researchers say.<br />Waves up to 165 feet (50 meters) high swept the eastern Mediterranean, triggered by a landslide on Mount Etna on the island of Sicily, according to the new study.<br />The research team says the natural disaster likely destroyed ancient communities, with a series of killer waves hitting the eastern Mediterranean coastline from Italy to Egypt.<br />Italian researchers based their findings on geological clues and evidence of a hastily abandoned Stone Age fishing settlement in Israel.<br />Maria Teresa Pareschi and colleagues at the National Institute of Geophysics and Volcanology in Pisa estimated the tsunami's strength by modeling the impact of the landslide from Etna, the tallest active volcano in Europe.<br />The team's calculation, published in the journal Geophysical Research Letters, shows that 6 cubic miles (25 cubic kilometers) of mountainside collapsed into the sea, generating giant waves that reached coasts as far away as the Middle East and North Africa.<br />The waves would have reached heights of about 165 feet (50 meters) off southern Italy, the team says, with a sea surge reaching 43 feet (13 meters) swamping parts of Greece and Libya.<br />Smaller waves hitting coasts farther away would also have had devastating power, according to Pareschi, who led the study.<br />"A tsunami wave height of a few meters can penetrate deeply inland," she said.<br />Long Waves<br />The team estimates the tsunami would have hit a maximum speed of around 450 miles an hour (725 kilometers an hour), taking a little over three and a half hours to reach what are now Israel and Egypt.<br />Evidence for the natural disaster comes mainly from disturbed sediments along the bottom of the Ionian Sea to the east of Sicily. <br />Tsunamis are known to destabilize soft marine sediments, the team notes, leaving telltale coverings of clay deposits after they reach land.<br />These deposits identify Mount Etna as the source of the tsunami and discount other possible causes, such as an asteroid strike or an undersea earthquake, the team says.<br />The researchers also speculate that a Neolithic village just off the coast of present-day Israel was hit by the tsunami.<br />The well-preserved Atlit-Yam settlement, which due to altered sea levels today lies submerged, "shows evidence of a sudden abandonment" 7,000 to 8,000 years ago, the researchers write.<br />These signs include a pile of gutted fish that had been processed and then "stored for future consumption," which was discovered buried under a layer of clay.<br />Secondary Tsunamis?<br />Further research by the Pisa-based team will investigate whether secondary tsunamis were set off by the sediment flows triggered by the initial tsunami from the Mount Etna collapse.<br />Pareschi said the probability of a new big collapse on Etna is low, but she added, "the eastern sector of the volcano is sliding toward the sea, and we have to understand very well the triggering mechanisms."<br />If the Etna tsunami had happened today, she said, the impact would be catastrophic, because the eastern Mediterranean coast is so densely populated.<br />Some ten percent of tsunamis worldwide occur in the Mediterranean.<br />The most recent volcano-triggered tsunami was caused by a landslide on the Italian island of Stromboli in the Tyrrhenian Sea in 2002.<br />The volume of the landslide "was however a thousand times smaller than the Mount Etna one," Pareschi said.<br />A tsunami early warning system is currently being developed for the Mediterranean and the northeastern Atlantic. Due to become operational in December 2007, it will form part of a global tsunami warning system coordinated by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO).<br />The measure follows in the wake of the devastating Indian Ocean tsunami, caused by an earthquake in December 2004, which struck coastlines with little or no warning.<br />Pareschi says the ancient Etna tsunami would have been comparable with the 2004 event, which claimed around 275,000 lives. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Who were the Phoenicians?<br />By Rick Gore <br /><br />We know they dominated sea trade in the Mediterranean for 3,000 years. Now DNA testing and recent archaeological finds are revealing just what the Phoenician legacy meant to the ancient world—and to our own.<br /><br />"I am a Phoenician," says the young man, giving the name of a people who vanished from history 2,000 years ago. "At least I feel like I'm one of them. My relatives have been fishermen and sailors here for centuries."<br />"Good, we can use some real Phoenicians," says Spencer Wells, an American geneticist, who wraps the young man's arm in a tourniquet as they sit on the veranda of a restaurant in Byblos, Lebanon, an ancient city of stone on the Mediterranean. The young man, Pierre Abi Saad, has arrived late, eager to participate in an experiment to shed new light on the mysterious Phoenicians. He joins a group of volunteers—fishermen, shopkeepers, and taxi drivers—gathered around tables under the restaurant awning. Wells, a lanky, 34-year-old extrovert, has convinced Saad and the others to give him a sample of their blood.<br />"What will it tell you?" Saad asks.<br />"Your blood contains DNA, which is like a history book," Wells replies. "Many different people have come to Byblos over the centuries, and your blood carries traces of their DNA. It's going to tell us something about your relationships going back thousands of years."<br />Wells has no doubts about the power of the new genetic techniques he is bringing to our understanding of ancient peoples. Nor does his bespectacled colleague standing beside him on the veranda, Pierre Zalloua, a 37-year-old scientist with a dark goatee and an intense passion for his Lebanese heritage. The two men hope to find new clues to an age-old riddle: Who were the Phoenicians?<br />Although they're mentioned frequently in ancient texts as vigorous traders and sailors, we know relatively little about these puzzling people. Historians refer to them as Canaanites when talking about the culture before 1200 B.C. The Greeks called them the phoinikes, which means the "red people"—a name that became Phoenicians—after their word for a prized reddish purple cloth the Phoenicians exported. But they would never have called themselves Phoenicians. Rather, they were citizens of the ports from which they set sail, walled cities such as Byblos, Sidon, and Tyre.<br />The culture later known as Phoenician was flourishing as early as the third millennium B.C. in the Levant, a coastal region now divided primarily between Lebanon, Syria, and Israel. But it wasn't until around 1100 B.C., after a period of general disorder and social collapse throughout the region, that they emerged as a significant cultural and political force.<br />From the ninth to sixth centuries B.C. they dominated the Mediterranean Sea, establishing emporiums and colonies from Cyprus in the east to the Aegean Sea, Italy, North Africa, and Spain in the west. They grew rich trading precious metals from abroad and products such as wine, olive oil, and most notably the timber from the famous cedars of Lebanon, which forested the mountains that rise steeply from the coast of their homeland.<br />The armies and peoples that eventually conquered the Phoenicians either destroyed or built over their cities. Their writings, mostly on fragile papyrus, disintegrated—so that we now know the Phoenicians mainly by the biased reports of their enemies. Although the Phoenicians themselves reportedly had a rich literature, it was totally lost in antiquity. That's ironic, because the Phoenicians actually developed the modern alphabet and spread it through trade to their ports of call.<br />Acting as cultural middlemen, the Phoenicians disseminated ideas, myths, and knowledge from the powerful Assyrian and Babylonian worlds in what is now Syria and Iraq to their contacts in the Aegean. Those ideas helped spark a cultural revival in Greece, one which led to the Greeks' Golden Age and hence the birth of Western civilization. The Phoenicians imported so much papyrus from Egypt that the Greeks used their name for the first great Phoenician port, Byblos, to refer to the ancient paper. The name Bible, or "the book," also derives from Byblos.<br />Today, Spencer Wells says, "Phoenicians have become ghosts, a vanished civilization." Now he and Zalloua hope to use a different alphabet, the molecular letters of DNA, to exhume these ghosts.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-100080387591170842007-07-06T21:24:00.000-07:002007-07-06T21:46:20.777-07:00Healing stories and medical anthropology: a reading of Mark 10:46-52<img src="http://www.shjolg.com/images/jesus%20healing%20people.gif"/><br /><br /><br />Healing stories and medical anthropology: a reading of Mark 10:46-52<br /><br />Santiago Guijarro<br />Abstract<br /><br />The healing stories of the Gospels have been studied by exegetes from a literary and a theological point of view. Both approaches have contributed greatly to a better understanding of them. Nevertheless none of these methodologies has been able to interpret those stories from their native point of view. The purpose of this article is to contribute to this native understanding of the healing stories. This aim is pursued by using some cross-cultural models taken from medical anthropology. These models can help us to imagine how Jesus and his contemporaries experienced and understood illness and healing. The first step is to elaborate a reading scenario combining these models and some literary and archaeological evidence. Then this model is applied to the story of the blind man of Jericho (Mark 10:46-52). This example shows how medical anthropology can be a tool for a more fruitful reading of the healing stories.<br /><br />**********<br /><br />Exegetes have frequently resorted to Western medicine to explain the meaning of the healings reported in the Gospels. This approach, however, has not proved to be very insightful for understanding the significance that illness and healing had for Jesus and his contemporaries. The attitude of these exegetes towards the gospel narratives is quite similar to that of Western doctors when they encounter patients from other cultures. Very often these doctors use the biomedical model to understand the symptoms communicated to them by these patients, instead of trying to interpret the symptoms using the cultural patterns of their patients' native culture (Good & Delvecchio Good: 165-66).<br /><br />As a result of the inadequacy of the biomedical model to explain the original meaning of these accounts and of the social contexts in which they originated, exegetes have devoted themselves to the study of the literary and theological features of the passages (Theissen; Leon-Dufour; Latourelle). Such studies have contributed greatly to our understanding of the healing narratives, for it is true that they were cast in rather precise literary forms. It is also true that over time they came to embody ever more precise theological concepts, as is apparent in the passage we are going to consider in this article (Kertelge: 179-84; Robbins; Johnson). It must be recognized, however, that the main purpose of these narratives was that of reporting the healings performed by Jesus.<br /><br />To understand the original meaning of these narratives we can turn to medical anthropology, a sub-discipline of cultural anthropology, whose object is the study of non-Western medical systems from a cross-cultural perspective (Worsley; Young). Scholars in this branch of learning have elaborated some conceptual models that are especially appropriate for a better understanding of illness and healing in Jesus' time.<br /><br />This kind of approach was proposed twenty years ago in a very insightful study by P. Borgen, but his suggestion was not followed by mainstream scholarship. Almost at the same time J. Pilch began to publish in this journal a series of articles in which he applied different models taken from medical anthropological studies to New Testament texts (BTB 1981:142-50; 1985:142-50; 1986:102-06; 1988: 60-66; 1992:26-33). This and other studies have been collected and published recently in one volume (Pilch 2000). More recently H. Avalos has produced two interesting studies on the role of the temple in the health care system of the Ancient Near East (1995), and on the import of the health care strategies for the rise of Christianity (1999). Following the steps these studies have already taken, the purpose of this essay is to propose some anthropological models in order to understand in its own terms the healing of the blind man from Jericho as it is reported in Mark 10:46-52.<br /><br />Reading Scenario: Different Forms of Understanding Illness and Healing<br /><br />Medical anthropologists have discovered that there are many ways of understanding and experiencing health and illness. They have also shown that the ways in which an individual or a group perceives, symbolizes and reacts to illness and health are determined by their own culture. A. Kleinman, one of the most widely recognized authors in the field, has attempted to understand medicine as a cultural system that includes all elements related to health in a given society. These elements include the perception of illness and its etiology, the individual and collective ways of reacting to it, the values that determine both, and the therapeutic strategies available or the social institutions dedicated to health care. These elements are mutually connected and form an integrated cultural system (Kleinman: 24-25; Worsley: 327-30). This means that illness and healing can be adequately understood only within the framework of a specific culture.<br /><br />The ways of understanding and experiencing health and illness in the world of Jesus and of the first Christians show noteworthy similarities with the "non-Western" medicines predominant in pre-industrial societies. The medical systems of these societies have in common a series of traits such as the following: (1) the symptoms of illness are explained on the basis of the belief that there exists an interdependence between the natural, the supernatural, the society, and the person; (2) the "healer" has a precise knowledge of the patient's social roles within the community and shares the values and social norms of the patient; and (3) participation in the healing process by other significant persons, mainly members of the extended family, relatives and neighbors, is decisive in the overall process. In contrast, Western bio-medicine, which is the prevailing model in industrialized societies, is rooted in an empirical conception of diseases, and its goal is the treatment of pathologies. As a result of those presuppositions, it does not pay much attention to the personal, social, and supernatural factors which determine the perception and interpretation of illness in most cultures (Worsley: 316-17; Good & Delvecchio Good: 167-74).<br /><br />It is possible to be more precise on how illness and healing were perceived in the world of Jesus, and to identify the most relevant differences existing between that health care system and ours. To this end I will develop three conceptual models that allow a systematic comparison between various ways of understanding and experiencing health and illness. Using these models I will try to clarify (a) in which sector of the health care system the healing reported by Mark should be located, (b) which understanding of the illness is transparent in this episode and how it affected the status of the sick person; and (c) which was the therapeutic strategy followed by Jesus.<br /><br />The Health Care System<br /><br />The health care system is not a real entity but rather a conceptual model elaborated on the basis of what the persons involved think and do vis-a-vis health and illness in a given social context. This model includes, therefore, perceptions, expectations and value judgments that are not always conscious. But it also takes into account the reactions and patterns of behavior of those involved in the illness and in the healing process. Both the perception of illness and the reactions to it are governed by cultural values, and are subject to the influence of different social factors such as institutions, roles, and relations in which the evaluation and treatment of the illness take place. The cross-cultural nature of this model makes it especially appropriate to establish comparisons among different health systems (Kleinman: 25-27).<br /><br />In its overall structure a health care system consists of three sectors which intersect in various ways: the popular sector, the professional sector, and the folk sector. In the popular sector, the most important one, the treatment of the illness is carried out by those belonging to the social networks of the sick person, notably family and relatives. It is in this non-specialized sector, deeply rooted in popular culture, where the treatment of illness is defined and initiated in most cases. The professional sector is governed by formal institutions and persons trained for this task through a socially sanctioned process. Because of their specialization, personnel in this sector usually propose their version of clinical reality as the only acceptable one. Finally, the folk sector comprises another series of different medical approaches. Some of them are close to the professional sector, but most are related to the popular one. It is in this last sector that we find the traditional healers (Kleinman: 49-60).<br /><br />These three sectors are defined differently within each culture, and even within various social groups in the same culture. Furthermore, each culture establishes an implicit hierarchy which determines the way a sick person will pass from one sector to another in search of health. To correctly understand the story of Bar Timaeus' healing we must have a basic knowledge of these three sectors in the world of Jesus. This is not the place to make a complete description of the health care system of first-century Palestine. For our purposes it will be enough to locate some literary and archaeological data within the framework provided by the model, so as to identify and describe the health sector in which that healing must be placed.<br /><br />In most cultures, the popular sector provides the first explanations and remedies to treat sickness. Considering the centrality of the family in the world of Jesus, we may assume that the participants in this first sector were above all those related to the sick person by kinship or fictive kinship ties. Thus, the popular sector's network included family relations, neighbors, clients and the patron. Usually the sick person and the social networks to which he belonged made use of the values and beliefs of the popular culture regarding specific illnesses in order to interpret them and react to them in a culturally meaningful way. The Gospel narratives provide us with some sporadic evidence about this sector. In them we find relatives that look after the sick (Mark 1:30) or ask for healing on their behalf (Mark 7:25; 9:17-18), we find also neighbors or clients that help the sick (Mark 2:3-4), and even patrons that intercede for their servants (Luke 7:74).<br /><br />Given the prevalence of this sector in non-Western health care systems, we ought to suppose that this was also the most important sector in the health care system of first-century Palestine. This presupposition is confirmed when we consider the health care functions performed by the family vis-a-vis its members, although not every family was able to perform those functions in the same way (Guijarro 1998: 5941).<br /><br />The practice of professional medicine in ancient Palestine is documented, at least within those social groups under Greek influence, from the Hellenistic period on. Ben Sim (Sir 38:1-15) praised physicians and their profession, but at the same time he reminded his readers that healing was always in God's hands (Noorda: 215-24). In the same vein, the Jewish historian Josephus mentions several times the activity of physicians in first-century Palestine (VITA 404; ANT 19.157; 7.343), pointing out their failures (BJ 1.598) and their inability to heal, as in the case of Herod the Great (ANT 15.245-246). Even Jesus referred to himself in a figurative way as a physician (Mark 2:17; Gos Thom 31). In spite of these positive references, the traditional attitude towards physicians in Israelite society was one of distrust. Israelite monotheism could think of God alone as the source of health, and consequently healing could be acquired only through his mediators, especially through the prophets, who were the authorized consultants in the traditional health care system of the Israelite society (Avalos 1995: 260-77).<br /><br />As in the rest of the Hellenistic-Roman world, professional physicians, following the teachings of Hippocrates, sought to find out the causes of illnesses and their remedies. These professionals had a global, philosophical perspective on the cosmos and an integrated idea of the human person (Scarborough; Kee: 49-101; Seybold & Mueller: 98-100). The Gospels mention only one case of recourse to this professional sector, the one of the hemorrhaging woman, and they do not fail to mention the fact that she had spent a great fortune on physicians (Mark 5:25-26).<br /><br />To this same sector of professional medicine can be ascribed most of the activities carried out in the sanctuaries of Aesculapius and in the therapeutic baths. In them, besides the therapies of the Hippocratic medicine, we find the practice of other therapeutic treatments, such as the incubatio (Seybold & Mueller: 101-02). We do not know for sure whether there existed in first-century Palestine sanctuaries devoted to Aesculapius or to Serapis, the healing gods more popular at the time, but excavations at the pool of Bethesda have shown that this place could have been one of them. Since the well-known study of A. Duprez on Jesus and the healing gods, this site has been identified as the scenario where the healing of the paralytic narrated in John 5:2-9 took place, but this identification has been challenged by recent research (Devilliers; Boismard). In any case it seems that the site was a healing center at least from the Hellenistic period on (Pierre & Rousse: 26-27). We can be more sure about the existence of therapeutic baths. Josephus mentions the fountains of Callirhoe, to which Herod was sent by his physicians (ANT 17.171), and the archaeologists have uncovered other similar facilities on both sides of the Jordan in the Hellenistic and Roman period (Dvorjetski; Weber).<br /><br />Finally, folk medicine, the third sector, which reached beyond the circle of family, relatives and neighbors, depended on different specialists who did not practice professional medicine. An outstanding feature of this sector is its proximity to the popular sector, with which it shares a common understanding of sickness and its etiology. Folk medicine is the realm of magic and exorcism, and the arena of popular healers who constitute its most representative figures. Popular healers share a set of traits in different cultures: they share their patients' worldview and understand health and illness very much like them; they accept the symptoms presented to them as coincident elements of a syndrome; they treat their patients outdoors, and they usually live in close proximity to the social situation of the sick person (Pilch 1991: 198-200).<br /><br />In the Hellenistic-Roman world this type of popular healer was quite common. In most cases, their healings were a means to confirm the authority of their doctrine and the basis of the claims they made about their person (Graham: 103-05). In the Israelite tradition, as we have seen, the most representative figure of this kind of popular healer was the healing prophet. This type of healer was not uncommon in the time of Jesus, although he himself was the most outstanding instance in first-century Palestine. Other contemporary healers, like Honni and Hannina ben Dosa, share with him, among other traits, a close resemblance to the prophet Elijah (Green; Vermes: 6446; Meier: 581-88).<br /><br />Access to these three sectors of the health care system was determined by different factors. We can suppose that popular medicine was always the first recourse. When healing could not be achieved through it, resourceful families would have recourse to professional medicine, but this was a luxury reserved to very few. Moreover, it is very probable that among the most traditional strata of Palestinian society (those on the lowest rung), recourse to this kind of medicine would stir up considerable distrust, since in some way it could be an affront against the sovereignty of God over health and illness. For the majority there remained recourse to the popular healers of folk medicine. This would avoid conflict with traditional allegiance to Israel's God, because in the end it was a type of religious healing. It is in this sector of folk medicine that the healings of Jesus must be located.<br /><br />The Explanatory Model<br /><br />There is always an explanatory model, explicit or implicit, behind the various ways of understanding illness and of behaving when confronted with it. An explanatory model is a simplified, abstract representation of some complex real-world interaction, consisting of a set of directives followed by those participating in a healing episode in order to understand and treat the illness. The purpose of such models is to offer an explanation of the illness, to help one choose among the various available therapies, and to provide meaning to the illness from the personal and social point of view. The explanatory model in vogue is the one that determines which symptoms are relevant and which are not, and how they are to be interpreted and treated (Kleinman: 104-10).<br /><br />Underlying explanatory models surface in various ways in the semantic fields of the illness, that is in the terms and expressions spontaneously used to refer to the illness in question (Young: 266-68). This means that to understand the explanatory model of a given illness, we have to pay close attention to the semantic field used by whoever describes it. The data that are not "familiar" to us in the story of the healing of the blind man of Jericho and in other New Testament healing stories are, in fact, the entrance door to the explanatory model of illness and health shared by Jesus and his contemporaries.<br /><br />The explanatory models employed in the various sectors of the health care system, especially in the popular and in the folk sectors, depend in large measure on the cultural interpretation of sickness. The difference between sickness and its cultural interpretation is reflected in the terminology used by medical anthropologists. They usually distinguish between disease and illness. Disease refers to abnormalities in the structure or functioning of a bodily organ or system of organs, whereas illness refers to the perceptions and experiences that a person has of his/her condition (Young: 264-46).<br /><br />Understanding sickness as illness is, then, a cultural process. All cultures have patterns of perceiving, comprehending, explaining, assessing, and treating the symptoms of sickness. These patterns are influenced by personal and family perceptions, and through them by the cultural values of each society. The assessment of sickness takes place by a process of labeling symptoms and the sickness itself, as well as by expressing its significance for the individual and the group to which he or she belongs. In this way, the sickness itself takes on a precise meaning and is shaped according to certain patterns of behavior, being thereby transformed into a specific cultural form. That cultural form is what we call an illness (Kleinman: 72-80).<br /><br />As a result of this process, the cultural construction of a sickness establishes (a) the way it is understood and explained; (b) the way it affects the status of the sick person; and (c) how to treat it, depending on the therapeutic strategies available (Avalos 1999: 23-27). This last aspect will be considered later. Now I turn to the first and second, which are more closely related to the explanatory model.<br /><br />Two relatively recent studies can introduce us into the cultural understanding of sickness and its etiology in the ancient world: the study of L. Wells concerning the vocabulary of healing in the Greek world, and that of L. P. Hogan on illness and health in the Second Temple Israel. Both of them review a large amount of literary and epigraphic evidence that reveals how people understood sickness at that time, especially in the popular and folk sectors.<br /><br />Wells has studied the language of healing employed in the dedications and inscriptions of the major Aesculapius shrines of the Hellenistic world and in the New Testament. After a detailed consideration of both sets of documents, she concludes that the terminology used in these two contexts is the same and has almost identical meaning. Her conclusion reveals that the explanatory models of illness were broadly shared in the Hellenistic-Roman world (Wells: 100-431; 219-29).<br /><br />The focus of Hogan study is the understanding of healing in Second Temple Israel. He scrutinizes the literary documents of that period and concludes that Judeans of the period believed God was ultimately behind all illnesses, even though a given illness could be brought about concretely by various agents or causes: God Himself for some concrete reason; God's agents (angels, demons etc.); evil spirits; stars; and, above all, sin. God was also the ultimate source of healing and health, but there were various means for restoring health. The principal ones were faith and prayer, repentance, exorcisms, physicians, folk medicine, and magic. Not all these means had the same value, but all of them share the same religious explanatory model, which did not separate the natural from the supernatural, the social from the personal (Hogan: 306-10). In any case, these features provide us with a very general framework which has to be filled out in each case, taking into consideration the terminology used.<br /><br />All these issues on the nature of sickness, its etiology and therapeutic strategies are a wide framework in which we must place the "regional" differences that shape many aspects of the cultural understanding of sickness and healing. Thus, for example, the Israelite explanatory model was configured by the Levitical system of purity, something which was not so prominent in other healing traditions of the Hellenistic world (Avalos 1999:34-58). In every instance it is necessary to find out how the general framework and the local tradition interact to configure the explanatory model.<br /><br />A crucial aspect of every explanatory model is the way in which it determines the status of the sick person. In most cultures sickness is interpreted in terms of social deviance, and consequently it attaches an stigma to the sick person. The degree of stigmatization and its precise meaning depend on how a particular sickness is perceived. In the Levitical health care system, for example, some chronic diseases, such as leprosy, attached to the sick person a stigma that required his or her exclusion from the community (Lev 13-15). This exclusion was not for sanitary purposes, but was the consequence of a purity system. This same understanding of purity determined that those who were affected by some physical blemishes such as lameness, deafness or blindness were not allowed to enter the Temple. To rightly understand the meaning of those stigmas we need to bear in mind that in the Mediterranean society of the first century the status of a person was perceived then in terms of honor and shame, which were the core values of that culture.<br /><br />The Therapeutic Strategy<br /><br />An important aspect of every health care system is its therapeutic strategy. A therapeutic strategy is basically the procedure followed to treat an illness in order to obtain healing. The first step in this process is to establish a hierarchy among the therapeutic options available, that is among the different sectors of the health care system. Once this hierarchy has been established, each sector initiates its own therapeutic strategy.<br /><br />The therapeutic strategy is the most noticeable feature in the healing stories of the Gospels. But it is also the most difficult aspect to understand for the Western reader. The reason is that the therapeutic strategies that appear in the gospel narratives presuppose an understanding of sickness and healing which is foreign to us. This understanding is derived from the explanatory model of popular and folk medicine of the first-century Mediterranean world, whereas the therapeutic strategies known to us derive from the biomedical model of Western professional medicine. To understand those stories in their own terms, then, we need a tool that may enable us to draw comparisons between the process of curing disease as professional Western medicine understands it, and the process of healing illness as it was understood in first-century popular and folk medicine.<br /><br />Good and Delvechio Good have developed such a tool. They consider different steps in the interpretation and treatment of symptoms, and make a parallel description of the therapeutic strategy followed by the biomedical model and that of the cultural model (Good St Delvecchio Good: 167-81). Both processes are determined by various cultural assumptions and consequently employ different explanatory models. The biomedical model is rooted in an empiricist conception of sickness based on organ malfunction; this is the model prevalent in Western medicine that determines its interpretation and treatment of the symptoms. In contrast, the cultural model understands sickness not simply as a pathology, but as a significant human reality. Consequently it considers healing as a hermeneutic process whose goal is to interpret that reality. The following chart summarizes the different steps and the strategies followed by both models (Good & Delvecchio Good: 179)<br /><br /> BIOMEDICAL MODEL<br /> (Empiricist)<br /><br />Pathological Entity Somatic of<br /> psychophysiological<br /> lesion or dysfunction<br />Structure of Relevance Relevant data are<br /> those that reveal so-<br /> matic disorder<br />Elicitation Procedures Review of systems<br /> laborotory tests<br />Interpretive Goal Diagnosis and expla-<br /> nation (Erklaren)<br />Interpretive Strategy Dialectically explore<br /> relationship between<br /> symptoms and<br /> somatic disorder<br />Therapeutic Goal Intervene in somatic<br /> disease process<br /><br /> CULTURAL MODEL<br /> (Hermeneutic)<br /><br />Pathological Entity Meaningful construct,<br /> illness reality of the<br /> sufferer<br />Structure of Relevance Relevant data are<br /> those that reveal<br /> meaning of illness<br />Elicitation Procedures Evaluate explanatory<br /> models, decode<br /> semantic network<br />Interpretive Goal Understanding<br /> (Verstehen)<br />Interpretive Strategy Dialectically explore<br /> relationship between<br /> symptoms(text) and<br /> semantic network<br /> (context)<br />Therapeutic Goal To treat patient's expe-<br /> rience: to bring to<br /> understanding hid-<br /> den aspects of illness<br /> reality and to trans-<br /> form that reality<br />The biomedical model is suitable for understanding disease and cure in the professional sector of contemporary Western medicine, but it is of little relevance when applied to other sectors of Western medicine. It is also inadequate when sickness is perceived and experienced according to patterns of other, non-Western cultures such as those in the gospel stories. In these cases, the cultural model is much more useful. As we shall see further on, many of the "strange" traits that appear in the gospel accounts of healing can be explained much better with the help of this second model.<br /><br />The Healing of the Blind Man of Jericho (Mark 10:46-52)<br /><br />The healing of the blind man of Jericho is one of the most elaborate miracle stories in the whole New Testament. The presence of some theological accents characteristic of Mark's Gospel, and its place at the end of a section centered on teaching about discipleship (Mark 8:31-10:52), reveal its catechetical character. This feature is equally apparent in the story of the healing of the possessed boy (Mark 9:14-29). Both of these healings, the last "miracles" related by Mark, are presented to the reader/hearer as "didactic examples" (Kertelge: 182-84). Such theological adaptation may have removed from the story some characteristic traits of the healing process which are more evident in other healing stories (touching, laying on of hands, use of saliva). But it is still possible to discover signs that reveal how Jesus and his contemporaries understood this episode.<br /><br />The Health Care System<br /><br />The first step to an adequate understanding of the story reported by Mark is to locate it in the framework of the health care system of that time, and to find out in which sector of that system it should be placed.<br /><br />The reference to the family can be indicative of the treatment of illness in the popular sector. This reference is implicit in the man's name, and perhaps was explained later to those who did not understand the meaning of the name, ("son of Timaeus"). Since the family was the most important social institution in the ancient world, it was the first place where healing was looked for. It is evident that Bar Timaeus' family was unsuccessful in providing a remedy for his blindness. The mention of his father shows that the family was affected by his situation. As in the case of the beggar asking alms at the Temple gate (Acts 3:2), it is probable that his family had not detached itself from him.<br /><br />We can presuppose, therefore, that Bar Timaeus approached Jesus after having sought healing in the popular medicine sector without success. There is no indication that he had resorted to the professional medicine of his time. No doubt, there would be physicians in Jericho as well as in Jerusalem, but only the members of elite families had access to them, The only recourse available to Bar Timaeus, as to so many other sick persons of his time, was a folk healer.<br /><br />Most of the traits that characterize folk healers appear, in fact, in the encounter of Jesus with Bar Timaeus: Jesus accepts the description the sick man gives of his illness and shares his understanding of it, because he asks no questions about its nature or etiology; the encounter takes place out. doors; the vocabulary used by both reflects a system of shared beliefs, and the therapy occurs through a dialogue. Both Jesus and Bar Timaeus interpret the illness and its healing in religious terms. The compassion Bar Timaeus asks for is an attribute of God, and his request presupposes that only God can bestow healing. Jesus responds to him by attributing the healing to his attitude of faith.<br /><br />These traits of the folk healer, many of which are common to folk healers of other cultures, were patterned in the Israelite society by the tradition of the prophet healer connected precisely to the town of Jericho and its surroundings. The ideal type of the Israelite heater who acted as mediator between God and the sick person was the prophet Elijah (I Kgs 17:17-24) and his disciple Elisha (2 Kgs 4:8-37; 5:1-19). Jesus was not the only folk healer in first-century Palestine. We know of at least two other figures: Honi and Hannina ben Dosa, whose activity as folk healers and popular miracle workers can be still discerned in the rabbinic traditions (Green: 646-47). Like John the Baptist and Jesus himself (Mark 6:15 par.; 8:28 par.; Luke 4:26; John 1:21), Honi and Hannina were associated by their contemporaries with Elijah. The setting of the story in Jericho could be a way of relating Jesus to him.<br /><br />This initial consideration of the story from the perspective of the health care system of the time reveals a perception of illness and healing which cannot be reduced to its biological aspects. The societal and religious implications of the story are equally evident. We might also observe that the sick person's trip in search of healing had probably begun before Bar Timaeus met Jesus, as in the case of the hemorrhaging woman (Mark 5:25-27), or the paralytic of Bethesda (John 5:57). The fact that his father is mentioned points to the popular sector of medicine as the first step in this search. In any case, the context in which this healing episode must be understood is that of Israelite folk medicine, whose most prominent figure was the prophet who heals in God's name. Jesus acts as a folk healer following the steps of Elijah, and in so doing he claims to be the legitimate intermediary through which God grants healing to the sick. This explains the centrality of faith in this and in other healing stories.<br /><br />The Explanatory Model<br /><br />To grasp the way Jesus and his contemporaries understood and experienced illness and healing, we need to identify the explanatory model they used to interpret these experiences. To this end, we must explore the semantic field of the sickness--that is, the words used to name and describe it and everything around it. This especially includes all those traits that we find rather strange, such as Bar Timaeus' request for compassion, the titles with which he addresses Jesus and the response of Jesus ascribing the healing to his faith.<br /><br />These traits reveal that Jesus and the first Christians shared with their contemporaries the belief that God was the source of illness and healing (Exod 15:26). Although the causes of the blindness are not mentioned in the story, we can presuppose that first-century Israelites ascribed it to the influence of a demon (Matt 12:22), or perhaps to some personal or inherited sin (John 9:2). These beliefs constituted the common framework, but to grasp the full significance of the story we must be more specific about the meaning of blindness and the implications of this condition in first-century Mediterranean societies.<br /><br />A brief consideration of the use of terms related to vision (blind, eye, to see) in the New Testament reveals a complex reality that goes beyond the physical ability (Michaelis: 340-46). "The blind" was a symbolic representation of those that could not guide others (Matt 15:15; 23:16-24; Luke 6:39; Rom 2:19). "The eye" could be a source of scandal (Matt 5:29; Mark 9:47), of desire (Matt 5:27-28; 1 John 2:16), and even an instrument to harm others (Matt 6:22-23; 20:5). Closed eyes expressed the inability to understand (Matt 13:15; Luke 24:16), while raised eyes were a means to communicate with God through prayer (Luke 16:23; 18:15; John 6:5; 17:1). In the ancient world there was a very close relationship between the eyes and the heart (Eph 1:18), so that when the eyes were shut the heart was unable to understand (John 12:40; Matt 13:15; Acts 28:27; 1 Cor 2:9). In Cicero we read that the eyes were the way to the heart (Cicero, DE LEGIBUS 1.26-27; ORATIONES 3.221), a belief that can also be found in the Old Testament (Jenni & Vetter: 336-46).<br /><br />This relationship between the eyes and the heart derives from an understanding of the human person in terms of three symbolic zones: one of emotion-fused thought, which functions through the eyes and the heart; one of self-revelation through speech, which operates through the mouth and the ears; and one of deliberate action, which finds expression through the hands and feet (Malina: 73-77). This perception of the individual is one of the taxonomies that can help us understand sickness and healing in the ancient Mediterranean world (Pitch 1991:203-07). Of these three zones that constitute the human being, the first is crucial for knowledge of the individual. For this reason, the ancient physiognomists looked at the study of the eyes as a fundamental task to ascertain or describe a person's character (Malina & Neyrey: 26-27). The eyes were not only an instrument of vision but also a channel of communication between persons and a way of access to their innermost self. All such functions were closed off to a blind person.<br /><br />Anthropological studies have emphasized that this insistence on the eyes and vision, as well as on the visual dimensions of things, is a common element in the Mediterranean societies, where the eye is "an instrument of knowledge, power, predation, dominance and sexuality" (Gilmore: 197). For this reason public exposure to the gaze of others implies a violation of the body, and the fear of such exposure is an important means of control (seclusion of women, veiling, interior courts, etc.). This preponderance of everything which is visual finds expression in the belief in the "evil eye," which is one of the most characteristic traits of Mediterranean societies (Elliott; Duncam & Derret). According to this belief, some persons have the power to injure other people through the eye and the sense of sight, generally as a consequence of envy or greed. For that reason the evil eye is sometimes synonymous with envy (Matt 20:5). This pervasive belief reveals the conviction that the eye and vision constitute an instrument of power over others.<br /><br />This perception of the meaning and power of the eye and vision determines the understanding Jesus and his contemporaries had of blindness. The blind person was, in a certain way, someone whose access to the center of the emotions and thought (the heart) was barred, whether from inside to outside (desires, emotions), or from outside to inside (evil eye). The lack of vision would separate him to some extent from the social interactions which revolved around honor, because honor and shame were visual values. For that reason, perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of blindness was the lack of power that it implied: he who could not see could not control others nor influence their lives.<br /><br />These cultural clues shape the social condition of the blind person. In most cultures, as we have seen, sickness assigns to the sick person a deviant status. In the Mediterranean culture this deviant status was understood and expressed in terms of its core values, that is in terms of honor and shame. When the ancient rhetoric treatises talk about the enkomion they consider good health as an attribute of the honorable person, but illness as something shameful (Malina & Neyrey: 140-41). The dishonorable condition of Bar Timaeus is pointed up in various details of the story: he is a beggar, he is outside the city, and he is not allowed to address Jesus. The name of the father (Timaios = honorable) and the son's condition may provide subtle allusions to the dishonor (atimos = dishonorable) affecting the entire family.<br /><br />The social condition of Bar Timaeus is depicted in terms, not of physical deficiency but of social exclusion because blindness would render one incapable of actively taking part in major social interactions. This perception of blindness in terms of social exclusion appears in some passages of the Israelite literature that presuppose the Levitical health care system. In 2 Sam 5:6-8 the author quotes a popular saying: "The blind and the lame will not enter the house of the Lord." And, according to the Levitical prescriptions, among the descendants of Aaron that were not allowed to present the offering were "the blind and the lame" (Lev 21:18). In Jesus' time the exclusion of the blind was even more emphasized, at least in some religious groups in which purity was a central concern. In one of the halakhic documents found in the Qumran caves we read that the blind and the deaf are not pure "because those who cannot see or hear cannot observe [the Law]" (4QMMT 56-57), and in the Temple Scroll it is stated that the blind should be barred not only from the Temple, but also from the holy city: "No blind will enter it in all his life; he will not defile the holy city in whose center I dwell" (11QTemple 45:12-14).<br /><br />As a result, healing was defined, not in physical but rather in social terms. For that reason the healing of the blind, the deaf, and the lame was a literary paradigm used in the prophetic writings to announce the restoration of the people of God (Clements). It is no accident that, in the story, the blind man's recovery of sight is followed by integration into the group of Jesus' disciples. This integration is in fact the last step in a process of social reintegration which runs through the entire story. The first step is to address Jesus without paying attention to those who command him to be silent. Then Bar Timaeus leaves behind the signs of his exclusion: his place beside the road and the beggar's mantle. And finally he talks to Jesus, asking him for healing. It is evident that, in Mark's view, this process describes the ideal itinerary of disciples. They must recover their sight to be able to follow Jesus on the way to the cross (Mark 10:51). But before this passage was placed in Mark's account, the story of the healing of the blind man may have been one more example of the social reintegration of outcasts through which Jesus expressed the coming of the kingdom of God (Guijarro 1999: 123-24).<br /><br />The Therapeutic Strategy<br /><br />The therapeutic strategy that surfaces in this story is better understood when we place it in the folk sector of the health care system of Jesus' time, and when we know the social connotations of blindness at that time. We explore this therapeutic strategy now, using the comparative model proposed by Good & Delveccio Good.<br /><br />The first stage of the healing process is the appearance of the sickness. Cultural patterns would orient the sick person and those who were related to him/her (family, relatives, neighbors, etc.) to perceiving that condition in social rather than in biological terms. For them blindness was not (as we have already noted) primarily a physiological pathology but rather an illness with social implications.<br /><br />The second stage is the search for relevant data about the sickness. This is the stage at which Western medicine looks for symptoms that reveal the existence of a known pathology. This interest is completely lacking in the story. Rather what we are told about are signs revealing the meaning of the illness. The place where Bar Timaeus is situated, his begging condition, the fact that he is not permitted to speak to Jesus ... all these features indicate which symptoms were relevant for them.<br /><br />The third stage looks to the identification of the sickness. Here the explanatory model shared by Jesus and his contemporaries must be taken into consideration, and this can be achieved through the scrutiny of the semantic field employed. This semantic field includes references to the origin of the sickness (perhaps sin) and of the healing (God). This semantic field reveals an emic understanding of blindness, which involves the importance of everything visual in ancient Mediterranean culture. Unlike the biomedical model, which focuses principally on the physical examination of the patient, the cultural model takes various dimensions of human experience into account: the natural (physical blindness), the divine (only God and faith can heal), the personal (the inability to see), and the social (exclusion and dishonor). In the story all these dimensions are related, but the divine and social dimensions come to the fore and are thus the most important for identifying the significance of blindness.<br /><br />The interpretive goal of this process is not, as in the biomedical model, diagnosing and explaining physical symptoms, but rather understanding the meaning that the illness has for the patient. Consequently the interpretive strategy does not rest on exploring the relation between the physical symptoms and dysfunctions but rather on exploring the relation between the symptoms and the semantic field of the illness. This is precisely what we find in the story, mainly in the brief dialogue between Jesus and Bar Timaeus. Twice Bar Timaeus begs Jesus to have compassion on him, but Jesus makes him articulate his request in a more specific way: "What do you want me to do for you?" The reader gets the impression that the blind man does not want to mention his blindness because of the social connotations it bears, but Jesus compels him to relate his situation (beggar, at the edge of the road, etc.) to its source, and he makes him ask openly to remedy the source of his social exclusion and his shame.<br /><br />Finally, the healing process does not rest on intervening in the somatic process of the pathology but in treating the patient's experience by establishing a new frame of reference. This aspect is more evident in this story than in other healings of blind people. Jesus pays no attention to the physical dimensions of the sickness (he neither lays hands on him nor applies dust or saliva); rather, he concentrates on its meaning. The healing is interpreted in terms of salvation which occurs thanks to faith in God. The first consequence of the man's recovering his sight is his incorporation into Jesus' group of disciples. This creates a new significant social framework that erases all the signs of the social exclusion caused by the stigma attached to the sickness: he is not beside the road but on it, he has thrown away the beggar's mantle, and what is most important, he finds welcome in a new social group.<br /><br />Conclusion<br /><br />In this essay, I have tried to show the usefulness of medical anthropology for an adequate understanding of healing stories in the Gospels. I am aware that the model presented is somewhat incomplete, but thanks to that model we have been able to discover some features implicit in the story and to interpret other features that are better understood from this perspective.<br /><br />The analysis of Mark 10:46-52 with the help of this reading scenario has shown, first of all, that the healing of Bar Timaeus is better understood when placed into the structure of the prevailing health care system of first-century Palestine. The story belongs in the folk sector of that system, but it is noteworthy that at first the case was dealt with in the popular sector, and that Timaeus' family had no access to the professional sector. As we have seen the folk sector of the Israelite health care system was closely related to the tradition of the prophet healer. This relationship points to the Israelite roots of Jesus' healing activity.<br /><br />The study of the explanatory model that the story takes for granted helps to clarify how blindness was understood and experienced at the time of Jesus. For Jesus and his contemporaries it was not only a disease but an illness that had strong religious, social, and cultural implications. According to the Levitical purity system, blindness implied, first of all, an exclusion from the political religious system. This exclusion was symbolized in the prohibition to enter the Temple. Furthermore, in a society which had honor as its core value, blindness entailed also a social segregation, because those who could not see were unable to participate in the main social interactions.<br /><br />On the other hand, understanding the story from the perspective of the cultural model of the healing process allows us to unveil the purpose of the healings performed by Jesus. In them the "miraculous" dimension, emphasized in traditional apologetics, was really of little importance. What was important was the social and political religious nature of the process. The healing of the blind man implies a healing of the roots of sin, which occurs through faith in the God of Israel (political religious dimension), and a social reintegration that entails the removal of all the signs of his exclusion (social dimension).<br /><br />Finally, a better knowledge of how sickness and healing was perceived in the social context of Jesus can be of great help to elucidate the specific traits of his activity as a healer. Perhaps the most relevant one was his therapeutic strategy. His therapeutic strategy was completely different from the one promoted by the Levitical health care system. These two strategies rest on different understandings of purity. Whereas the Levitical system promoted the exclusion of the sick, the strategy followed by Jesus strove for his inclusion. Jesus' healings, like his exorcisms and his meals, expressed what the kingdom of God meant in a culturally relevant and eloquent manner. 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(Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus, n. 21) Freiburg, Germany: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.<br /><br />Jenni, E, & Vetter, D., `ayn Ojo. Pp. 336-46 in DICCIONARIO TEOLOGICO MANUAL DEL ANTIGUO TESTAMENTO, edited by E. Jenni & C. Westermann. Madrid, Spain: Ed. Cristiandad.<br /><br />Johnson, E. S. 1978. Mark 10:46-52. Blind Bartimaeus. CATHOLIC BIBLICAL QUARTERLY 40: 191-204.<br /><br />Kertelge, K. 1970. DIE WUNDER JESU IM MARKUSEVANGELIUM. Munchen: Kosel Verlag.<br /><br />Kleinman, A. 1980. PATIENTS AND HEALERS IN THE CONTEXT OF CULTURE. AN EXPLORATION OF THE BORDERLAND BETWEEN ANTHROPOLOGY, MEDICINE AND PSYCHIATRY. Berkeley & Los Angeles, CA/London, UK: University of California Press.<br /><br />Latourelle, R. 1990. MILAGROS DE JESUS Y TEOLOGIA DEL MILAGRO. Salamanca, Spain: Ed. Sigueme.<br /><br />Leon-Dufour, X. (ed.) 1979. LOS MILAGROS DE JESUS. Madrid, Spain: Ed. Cristiandad.<br /><br />Malina, B. J. 1993. THE NEW TESTAMENT WORLD. INSIGHTS FROM CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY (Revised Edition). Lousville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press.<br /><br />Malina, B. J., and J. J. Neyrey. 1996. PORTRAITS OF PAUL AN ARCHAEOLOGY OF ANCIENT PERSONALITY. Lousville, KY: Westmisnter John Knox Press.<br /><br />Meier, J. P. 1994. A MARGINAL JEW. VOL. II: MENTOR, MESSAGE AND MIRACLES. New York, NY: Doubleday.<br /><br />Michaelis, W. 1967. horao ktl. Pp. 315-82 in THEOLOGICAL DIC. TIONARY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT, edited by G. Kittel. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.<br /><br />Noorda, S. 1979. Illness and Sin, Forgiving and Healing. The Connection of Medical Treatment and Religious Beliefs in Ben Sira 38, 1-15. Pp. 215-24 in STUDIES IN HELLENISTIC RELIGIONS, edited by M. J. Vermaseren. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill.<br /><br />Pierre, M.-J. & Rousse, J.-M. 1981. Sainte Marie de la Probatique. PROCHE ORIENTE CHRETIENNE 31:23-42.<br /><br />Pilch, J. J. 2000. HEALING IN THE NEW TESTAMENT. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press.<br /><br />1991. Sickness and Healing in Luke-Acts. Pp. 181-209 in THE SOCIAL WORLD OF LUKE-ACTS. MODELS FOR INTERPRETATION, edited by J. Neyrey. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson.<br /><br />Robbins, V. K. 1973 The Healing of Blind Bartimaeus (Mk 10:46-52) in the Marcan Theology. JOURNAL OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE 92:224-43.<br /><br />Scarborough, J. 1988. Medicine. Pp. 1227-48 in CIVILIZATION OF THE ANCIENT MEDITERRANEAN, edited by M. Grant & R. Kitzinger. New York, NY: Charles Scribner's Sons.<br /><br />Seybold, K. & Mueller, U. B. 1978. SICKNESS AND HEALING, Nashville, TN; Abingdon Press.<br /><br />Theissen, G. 1974. URCHRISTLICHE WUNDERGESCHICHTEN. Gutersloh: Mohr.<br /><br />Vermes, G. 1997. JESUS EL JUDIO. 4th ed. Barcelona, Spain: Ed. Mario Muchnick.<br /><br />Weber, T. 1997. Thermal Springs, Medical Supply and Healing Cults in Roman-Byzantine Jordan. Pp. 331-38 in STUDIES IN THE HISTORY AND ARCHAEOLOGY OF JORDAN, Vol VI, edited by G. Bisheh. Amman, Jordan: Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan...<br /><br />Wells, L. 1998. THE GREEEK LANGUAGE OF HEALING FROM HOMER TO THE NEW TESTAMENT TIMES. Berlin, Germany/ New York, NY: Walter de Gruyter.<br /><br />Worsley, P. 1982. Non-Western Medical Systems. ANNUAL REVIEW OF ANTHROPOLOGY 11:315-48.<br /><br />Young, A. 1982. The Anthropologies of Illness and Sickness. ANNUAL REVIEW OF ANTHROPOLOGY 11:257-83.<br /><br />Santiago Guijarro, S.S.L. (Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome), S.S.D. (Pontifical University of Salamanca, Spain), is a professor in the Faculty of Theology of the Pontifical University of Salamanca (e-mail: guijarro@upsa.es). He was the coordinator of one of the most recent translations of the Bible into Spanish: BIBLIA DE LA CASA DE LA BIBLIA (Madrid, 1992), and BIBLIA DE AMERICA (Madrid, 1994). He has published recently a monograph on the disruption of the family for the sake of discipleship (FIDELIDADES EN CONFLICTO. LA RUPTURA CON LA FAMILIA POR CAUSA DEL DISCIPULADO Y DE LA MISION EN LA TRADICION SINOPTICA (Salamanca, 1998). He has also recently contributed an article to BTB: The Politics of Exorcism: Jesus' Reaction to Negative Labels in the Beelzebul Controversy (29:118-29).<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2000 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2003 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-84584034897017407072007-07-06T20:37:00.000-07:002007-07-06T20:45:07.082-07:00Paul's contestation of Israel's memory of Abraham in Galatians 3<img src="http://www.hp.uab.edu/image_archive/ulj/mosaic33.jpg"/><br /><br /><br />Paul's contestation of Israel's memory of Abraham in Galatians 3<br /><br />Philip F. Esler<br />This essay proposes an explanation for the prominent role of Abraham in Galatians 3. While the view of existing scholarship that Paul is responding to a case being made by his opponents is accepted, there are difficulties with the current proposals. Paul's opponents are not likely to have invoked Abraham as part of a theological case, or because of his connection with circumcision or with blessings. An explanation is needed which focuses on the question of Abrahamic descent in the totality of its dimensions. By adopting aspects of theories of ethnicity, social identity and, above all, collective memory, it is argued, first, that Abraham was central to the ethnic identity and collective memory of first century Judeans and that Paul's opponents were offering his converts the exalted status of Abrahamic descent as a reward for becoming Judeans through circumcision. Second, Paul's argument in Galatians 3 represents a fundamental contestation of this memory. He formulates a counter-memory for installation in the hearts and minds of his audience. He does this by arguing that the "seed" or descendants of Abraham to whom God had made promises were not Judeans but rather Christ and those who were one with him in baptism. Thus he wrenches the prize that was Abraham from the Judeans and lodges it among his mixed congregations of non-Judean and Judean Christ-followers. The audacity of Paul's enterprise is evident in his leaving no room for Judeans who had not found faith in Christ to be Abraham's descendants, a radical position from which he would later withdraw in Romans 4.<br /><br />*********<br /><br />The function of Abraham in Paul's letter to the Galatians has received considerable attention from scholars, not least in G. W. Hansen's 1989 monograph and Jeffrey Siker's shorter treatment of the subject in 1991. Such attention is more than justified. Paul mentions Abraham nineteen times, but these instances are concentrated in two of his letters, with nine in Galatians, mostly in Chapter 3 (3:6, 7, 8, 9, 14, 16, 18, and 29) and one later in the section on Sarah and Hagar (4:22), and nine more in Romans, mostly in Chapter 4 (4:1, 2, 3, 9, 12, 13, 16), with the two remaining examples coming later (9:7 and 11:1). The remaining instance occurs in 2 Corinthians 11:22. None of the deutero-Pauline letters mentions Abraham.<br /><br />Prominent themes in the current discussion of Abraham in Galatians include the reason Paul introduces him (probably in response to the case being mounted by his opponents in Galatia), the character of, and rationale for, his picture of Abraham (especially the question over the identity of his true descendants), and differences between the presentation of the patriarch here and in Romans.<br /><br />My aim in this article is to investigate the role of Abraham in Galatians 3 in relation to the emerging interest in collective memory, especially the extent to which such memory embraces great figures from the past and is contested between groups. The recent interest on the part of biblical scholars in the field of collective memory, an area now embracing sociology and anthropology that was pioneered by Maurice Halbwachs before the Second World War but has only in the last two decades come to the forefront of social-scientific reflection, reflects, as Andreas Huyssen has noted, the emergence of memory as a key concern of contemporary society. In addition to the two seminal works by Halbwachs (1980; 1992), in the last twenty years there have been a stream of significant texts, with notable contributions by Paul Connerton, James Fentress and Chris Wickham, Gary Fine, Jeffrey Olick, Nachmann Ben-Yehuda, Barry Schartz and Eviatar Zerubabel. Jeffrey Olick and Joyce Robbins usefully surveyed this field as it then stood in 1998. It is disappointing and surprising, therefore, to find historians writing about memory without reference to the vibrant sociological and anthropological literature--as a case in point, Halbwachs is not mentioned in the admittedly excellent 2003 collection of essays edited by Katharine Hodgkin and Susannah Radstone, Contested Pasts: The Politics of Memory. For reasons that will shortly become apparent, I find it essential to integrate notions of collective memory within a broader investigative framework that includes perspectives on group identity and ethnicity.<br /><br />There are five major sections to this article. In the first I survey the relevant data in Galatians 3 and briefly consider some current scholarly approaches to it. In the second I consider how Abraham and Abrahamic descent were closely connected with the ethnic identity of first century Judeans, including those in Galatia putting pressure on Paul's converts. In the third section I explain how Abraham featured in the collective memory of first century Judeans. In the fourth section I offer an interpretation of Galatians 3:6-29, arguing that here Paul is concerned to contest the memory of Abraham and to attach his descent to the Christ-movement, detaching it from Israel in the process. I offer some concluding observations in the fifth and final section.<br /><br />I have previously considered the role of Abraham in Galatians from a different aspect of social identity theory than that I will utilize here (1998: 173-74, 191-94), while I have recently examined the role of Abraham in Romans 4 from perspectives similar to those in this article (2003:171-94).<br /><br />Abraham in Galatians 3 in Current Discussion<br /><br />Abraham first appears in Galatians at 3:6. In the preceding verse Paul (rhetorically) asks whether the one who supplies the Spirit to them and works miracles among them does so by works of the law or heating with faith. Here, as Hansen has shown (110-13), the faith in question is that of the Christ-follower and certainly not the "faithfulness of Jesus"--as argued by Richard B. Hays (1983: 147) as part of his larger and unpersuasive project to cobble together a Pauline narrative concerning the faithfulness of Jesus, a narrative that Paul himself never happened to express. Then in 3:6 Paul states, quoting Genesis 15:6 in the Septuagint, "Thus Abraham put his faith in God and it was reckoned to him as righteousness." After this he continues, "For (ara) you know that it is those of faith--these are the sons of Abraham" (3:7). Here the particle ara marks an inference made on the basis of the preceding verse (Danker: 127). As Paul develops his argument, however, it becomes clear that this is also a thesis that he is seeking to prove.<br /><br />He will conclude the argument at 3:29 with a statement very similar to that at 3:7. The entirety of the passage from 3:6 to 3:29 serves to demonstrate that those who have faith in Christ are really the sons or seed of Abraham. The act of Abraham in putting his faith in God is paralleled by the act of Paul's converts putting their faith "in Christ Jesus"--3:26). This illustrates how, as Richard Bauckham has pointed out in rightly arguing for an early high Christology in the Pauline corpus (1998; 2002), what was predicated of God in the Old Testament comes in Paul to be predicated of Christ.<br /><br />Why does Paul spend 23 verses of this letter (out of 149, or some one seventh of the whole) on this topic? The obvious answer is that he is answering the case being made in relation to Abraham by those active in the congregations of the Christ-movement in Galatia who oppose his gospel. There is a long line of scholars who support this general view, with Hansen (262) mentioning Barrett, Betz, Bruce, Mussner, Brinsmead, Beker, Richard Longenecker, Daube, Bligh, Ridderbos, Guthrie, Burton, and Duncan, and even this list is hardly exhaustive. But what kind of case was it? Here I will merely sample a handful of the available views.<br /><br />For C. K. Barrett it was a theological case. Speaking of the opponents, he says,</p> <pre> At the heart of their theology was the concept of the people of God with its origin in Abraham, and the divine promise which constituted it. They probably took the view ... that the Abrahamic covenant had been re-defined by the Sinaitic. The<br /><br />promise was made to Abraham and his seed; and the obligations of the seed were revealed in the law, fulfillment of which was made the necessary condition for receipt of the promised blessing<br /><br />[15; emphasis added]. </pre> <p>J. Christiaan Beker has proposed that the Judaizers were arguing that because both Abraham and Christ--as the heir to Abraham's blessing--were circumcised, "only sons of Abraham through circumcision belong to the domain of blessing. Gentiles cannot be full Christians without living within the domain of salvation, that is, without adopting circumcision and the Torah" (48).<br /><br />In a detailed argument, Hansen suggests that the opponents of Paul's gospel were running a circumcision campaign. This is a reasonable start, for if we know anything about Paul's problem in Galatia it is that certain persons were seeking to persuade non-Judean members to be circumcised and, therefore, become Judeans themselves (Galatians 5:2; 5:12; 6:12). Yet Hansen then goes further and suggests that this circumcision campaign "was probably supported by a reference to God's original command to Abraham to receive circumcision with all his household as a sign of the covenant in the flesh (Gen. 17)" (113). He also urges that there is a strong connection drawn between circumcision and the Abrahamic covenant in Israelite literature (170-74; 175-99). Since circumcision was the means presented in such literature by which Abraham gained perfection, circumcision was the necessary means whereby one shared in the Abrahamic blessings of life and righteousness (172).<br /><br />There is, however, a major problem with these first three explanations, namely, that they do not focus on the very issue at stake here--being a son or descendant of Abraham. Paul's argument is plainly predicated on the view that descent from Abraham is a very desirable thing. It is highly probable that this view was shared by his opponents in Galatia. To draw this conclusion is not to leap into what are sometimes presented as the dangerous quicksands of "mirror-reading" (Barclay), but merely to insist that, like anyone used to argument in a public forum in the ancient period or today, it was necessary for Paul to anticipate and meet the specific features of his opponents' case. On the basis of ancient rhetorical advice to anticipate an opponent's case, I have elsewhere (1998: 64-68) argued against George Lyons' attempt to deny to Paul this inevitable feature of effecfive argumentation.<br /><br />Paul's aim is to redefine the character of Abrahamic descent and the means by which it is achieved--"You regard descent from Abraham as a desirable thing? ... Then let me tell you what it means and how to get it!"<br /><br />None of these three scholars--Barrett, Beker or Hansen--sees anything valuable in descent from Abraham per se. Barrett sees such descent merely as one integer in a much larger theological case, one of a number of concepts, being advocated by the opposition. Beker considers that this was a means to obtain blessings. As for Hansen, thirdly, in a revealing section of his book entitled "The Opponents' Use of the Abraham Tradition," (167-74), he does not mention Abrahamic descent as a desirable good; indeed he never mentions it at all! He regards Abraham as entering the picture because of his established connection with circumcision in Genesis 17:110-1 4 and elsewhere. This is part of "Jewish" "literary tradition." His vision is of Paul's opponents relying on such literature to prove their point. Like Beker, he also sees circumcision (note, not Abrahamic descent) as a way to obtain blessings.<br /><br />More recently J. Louis Martyn has provided a detailed account of the case that Paul's opponents were probably making in relation to Abraham (302-06). He refers to these opponents as the "Teachers," which is an unfortunate and unwarranted euphemism given the fierceness with which interpersonal competition was undertaken in ancient Judean and Greco-Roman colture (Esler 1998: 65-66). Based on an erudite understanding of the various facets of the Judean portrait of Abraham in the first century CE, Martyn focuses on the extent to which the "Teachers" were offering Paul's converts Abrahamic descent as a way to win divine blessings. To get these blessings one had to be incorporated into Israel through circumcision.<br /><br />Bruce Longenecker, finally, has suggested that evidently "the promotion of circumcision and works of the law was being carried out in Galatia with reference to this notion of the identity of Abraham's descendants." He further adds that "Abrahamic descent was the issue that gave rise to the promotion of circumcision and other practices of the law." He explains this in terms of "the high regard in which Abraham was held in Early Judaism," especially because he turned from paganism to worship the one true God. The "agitators" (Paul's opponents) were establishing a connection with the "Galatians" (sc. Paul's non-Judean converts to Christ) through Abraham--by saying that both they (sc. the agitators) and the Galatian converts had turned away from idolatry to serve the true God (129). In addition, he suggests that Genesis 17 entails that offspring of Abraham had to be circumcised and that by that means they became entitled to share in the covenant blessings. Probably they also linked the Abrahamic covenant with the delivery of the Mosaic law on Sinai (130).<br /><br />Both Martyn and Longenecker do at least see a role for Abrahamic descent itself. Yet they do not portray such descent as a valuable end in itself, but as a means whereby the agitators can relate themselves to Paul's converts via Abraham's eschewal of idolatry and, most critically, as the vehicle for transmission of the blessings that God promised to his descendants. While it is clear that the blessings that flow to the true descendants of Abraham are an important part of the picture, I submit that even Martyn and Longenecker have failed to access the full significance of Abrahamic descent.<br /><br />In the balance of this article I will set out an alternative approach to the views of these five scholars in relation to Abraham in Galatians 3. But before doing so I must briefly note the theoretical resources I consider desirable for this exercise, which will enable me to interrogate the textual data in a new way. The core of my approach will be to interpret Abrahamic descent as central to the ethnic identity of Judeans--an identity they highly valued--with the figure of Abraham being central to this identity and, furthermore, accessed and maintained by Judeans through the processes of collective memory and contested by Paul in an effort to re-direct that collective memory to serve the needs of the congregations of Christ-followers in Galatia.<br /><br />Abraham, Judean Ethnic Identity, and Galatians<br /><br />I take it as highly probable that Paul's fundamental concern in Chapter 3 and the rest of Galatians is with preserving the unique identity of the various congregations of the Christ movement in Galatia as he had founded them. His problem is that his version of the movement, characterized by Judean and non-Judean Christ-followers who engaged in the intimate table-fellowship of the Lord's Supper with one another, is imperiled by pressures upon the non-Judeans to be circumcised and hence become Judeans. He is determined to maintain the boundaries that separate the Galatian groups of Christ-followers from Judeans--in other words, to preserve his version of the gospel against rival versions (Esler 1998).<br /><br />How do we categorize Paul's opponents? Usually they are called "Judaizers" and regarded as "Jews" who are members of the congregations, possibly under pressure from other "Jews" to do something about these goyim with whom they are associated. It is easy to view this as a religious identity. But if we eschew the anachronism of translating Ioudaios as "Jew" and adopt "Judean" instead, for reasons I have set out at length elsewhere (2003: 40-76) , we are dealing with an identity best described as "ethnic." The Judeans then become one of a large number of ethnic groups in the first century Mediterranean world, like the Romans, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Gauls and so on, all nominated in relation to the territory from which they were known to have come, even those of their number who lived a diaspora existence abroad. Many of these groups are mentioned in the Contra Apionem of Josephus, a text whose practice of treating the Ioudaioi as (superior) members of a class best described as "ethnic" that also includes Romans, Greeks and Egyptians and so on, represents a powerful argument against the exceptionalism (and, let us be blunt, intellectual inertia) involved in treating Ioudaioi as "Jews" belonging to a religion known as "Judaism."<br /><br />Ethnicity has recently been the focus of lively discussion in the social sciences (Vermeulen & Govers; Banks; Jenkins; Baumann; Spickard & Burroughs). Fredrik Barth's construal of ethnicity as representing a sense of group identity that at various times selects different indicia as expressive of that identity (as opposed to ethnicity being determined by a set of primordial cultural features) has been widely influential. In Barth's perspective, the boundaries of ethnic groups operate as processes, permitting some interactions across them and prohibiting others. A number of recent works have demonstrated how comfortably this modern notion of ethnicity can be related to groups in the ancient Mediterranean world (Bilde et al.; Hall; Konstan; Malkin). There is also a burgeoning literature that applies the theory of ethnicity to biblical studies (Brett; Cohen; Duling 2003 and 2005/2006; Esler 2003).<br /><br />Although Barth recognizes that the indicia which typify a particular ethnic group can change over time, certain features do commonly recur in groups we would wish to label as ethnic. John Hutchinson and Anthony Smith have helpfully listed a number of features that tend to be associated with ethnic groups (3-14). These are (a) a common proper name to identify the group; (b) a myth of common ancestry (note "myth," since the genealogical accuracy of the claimed descent is irrelevant); (c) a shared history or shared memories of a common past, including heroes, events and their commemoration; (d) a common culture, embracing such things as customs, language and religion; (e) a link with a homeland, either through actual occupation or by symbolic attachment to the ancestral land, as with diaspora peoples; and (f) a sense of communal solidarity. I stress that these features should be seen as operating in the processual and self-ascriptive approach favored by Fredrik Barth.<br /><br />It is worth dwelling on the second of these features, a myth of common ancestry or descent. Max Weber, writing in 1922, proposed that ethnic groups were characterized by the belief that they shared common descent "because of similarities of physical type or of customs or both, or because of memories of colonization and migration." It did not matter whether an objective blood relationship existed or not. Ethnic membership differed from a kinship group precisely in that it was a presumed identity, rather than the concrete social action of the latter (389). Even Fredrik Barth, who opposed defining ethnicity in terms of cultural features, stated that an ascription of someone to a particular social category was an ethnic ascription "when it classities a person in terms of his basic, most general identity, presumptively determined by his origin and background" (13; emphasis added).<br /><br />The Judeans of the first century CE, whether living in Palestine or in the diaspora, were an ethnic group like other peoples of their kind. In his Contra Apionem Josephus does present them as having distinctive and desirable features, but he clearly sees them as belonging to the same broad category of group-belonging as the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians and so on. When we run through the various features that Hutchinson and Smith have highlighted as typical indicia of ethnicity, it is notable that Abraham seems to bear on all of them.<br /><br />First, they had a common proper name in relation to outsiders, Ioudaioi or Judaei. This name referred to their homeland, Ioudaia or Judaea, just as Romans were called after Rome, Greeks after Greece (Hellenes after Hellas) and Egyptians after Egypt. To translate Ioudaios as "Jew" deletes the territorial connection attached to ethnic names in the ancient Mediterranean. An essential feature of Judean tradition was that they had acquired the claim to their land through God's gift to Abraham. They also had an ingroup name for themselves, Israelitai or "sons of Israel," a name which also linked them to Abraham in as much as he was Israel's grandfather.<br /><br />Secondly, they had a myth of common ancestry, which began with Abraham and continued on through his son Isaac through his wife Sarah, who inherited rather than Ishmael (Abraham's son through his servant Hagar), and thence to Isaac's son Jacob, subsequently named Israel (Gen 32:28).<br /><br />They had a shared history, thirdly, that began with Abraham and moved onwards, through the period in Egypt, the Exodus and settlement of Canaan, the time of the judges, the monarch, exile and return, Seleucid and Roman occupation. Aspects of this history were regularly commemorated, as with the Feast of Passover, for example.<br /><br />Fourthly, they had a common culture, including distinctive religious and ethical beliefs and practices, which included an aversion to idolatry originating with Abraham. The Greek word Ioudaismos (see Gal 1:14) refers to the ethical, legal, religious and cultural practices associated with being a Judean. It thus quite nicely designates this fourth indicator of ethnicity. For modern scholars to speak of a religion called "Judaism" as the decisive aspect of the identity of this people misses the fact that this cultural (including religious) dimension is only one of a larger number that together produce an identity best interpreted as ethnic. In the ancient world, moreover, "religion" was not separable from kinship and the economic and political realms. Thus, to focus on "Jews" as representative of a religion "Judaism" is both anachronistic and grossly reductionist and does little justice to the identity of first century Judeans.<br /><br />Fifthly, they had their own land, which they believed God had given to them through Abraham. Even when they lived in the diaspora they were oriented to the land, as seen in their payment of the annual Temple tax and pilgrimages to Jerusalem for the great festivals (see Binder: 48-89; Esler 2003: 64-65).<br /><br />Sixthly, they had a strong sense of communal solidarity, which rested ultimately on the belief in their descent from a common ancestor, Abraham.<br /><br />It is evident from this just how prominent Abraham was in the ethnic identity of the Judeans, in telling themselves who they were as a people. For Judeans to say they were descendants of Abraham presumed or invoked all these various dimensions of their group identity. Yet there is more to be said than this. Henri Tajfel, the founder of social identity theory, rightly maintained that a sense of belonging to a group extended beyond the cognitive dimension--the understanding of the nature of the group to embrace emotional and evaluative dimensions--that is, how members felt about belonging to the group and how they rated themselves with respect to the members of other groups. It is quite clear that first-century Judeans were immensely proud of being the descendants of Abraham and regarded themselves as superior to other groups by virtue of this lineage.<br /><br />There are many signs of this. Two will suffice. At one point in his preaching, John the Baptist said to those coming out to him, "Bear fruit that is worthy of repentance and do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father'; for I tell you God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham" (Matt 3:8-9; cf. Luke 3:8). Here John is presuming in his Judean audience an ethnic pride focused on Abraham that highlights the ethical superiority of Judeans over other peoples--a pride reflected in the view that they do not need to repent. At John 8:33, secondly, the Judeans who had believed Jesus respond to his suggestion that the truth will set them free by saying, "We are the seed of Abraham and we have never been in slavery to anyone." Thus they appeal to their descent from Abraham as connected with their freedom as a people. Although this is a somewhat exaggerated claim in view of their long history of domination by foreign powers, it certainly underlines the extent to which they associated their ancestor Abraham with their honorable status as a free people.<br /><br />These examples reveal that appeal or reference to Abraham is made as a way of asserting their ethnic identity. To be of such stock both tells them who they are and makes them feel privileged and superior to the members of other groups. It has cognitive, emotional and evaluative connotations. Abrahamic descent is thus a way of describing the glorious status of being a Judean. It is a status acquired through circumcision, and here apparently the Judeans were prepared to overlook that proselytes could not actually be physically descended from Abraham even though they were actually circumcised. Perhaps they acknowledged that among the people initially circumcised by Abraham were purchased servants, people not physically his kin (Gen 18: 22-27). Such a status goes far beyond the notion of Abrahamic descent as being a mode of delivery of divine blessings.<br /><br />This analysis allows us to sharpen our critique of the five scholars discussed above. In Galatia Paul was responding to the fact that his opponents were categorizing the appeal of becoming a Judean in terms of Abrahamic descent. To be of the seed of Abraham meant acquiring a distinctive and glorious identity. Barrett, Beker and Hansen, each in their separate ways, have missed this factor entirely. Martyn and Longenecker, while seeing the importance of Abrahamic descent, opt for reasons that are too narrow fully to explain it. Paul's opponents are proffering Abrahamic descent to Paul's converts not because Abraham's people were anti-idolatrous (although they were), nor because such people obtained covenant blessings (which they did), but because descent from Abraham summed up the totality of the ethnic identity and hence elevated status, in all their various manifestations, that came from being a Judean. This identity included the blessings and the monotheistic worship of the one, true God but went far beyond them, to embrace all the components of Judean ethnic identity just rehearsed.<br /><br />Abraham and the Collective Memory of Israel<br /><br />How did Abraham continue to have such an appeal to and impact upon Judeans? We must first shed the idea that it was based upon their personally reading scrolls or codices containing scripture or other Judean writings. As Werner Kelber, Paul Achtemeier, and others have been reminding us for a long time now, this was a largely illiterate (or "residually oral") society. That only a tiny percentage of people could read has been demonstrated in works by William Harris and Catherine Hezser. Judeans did have access to their traditions, but by listening to texts read in synagogues on the sabbath, as described by Philo in the fragment of a lost work (cited by Esler 2003: 91) and by remembering what they heard and by discussions at other times. Israel was a speaking and listening community, not a "reading community" as Richard Hays suggests, in a remarkable example of anachronism that undermines his "intertextuality" project (Hays 1989:20-21), now unwisely supported by Francis Watson (17-24). For Hays and Watson there is no essential difference between the way Paul accessed scripture and the way we do, post-Reformation and post-Gutenberg. In fact, Abraham lived in the memories of Israelites and it is to memory that we must turn in seeking to understand this phenomenon. Direct references to Judean scripture in Galatians (including by Paul in Galatians 3) and other references that can reasonably be implied are very significant but must be understood as appropriated in this way.<br /><br />Unfortunately, as Werner Kelber points out in a long essay in a forthcoming Semeia volume on social memory, the principal representatives of the recent upsurge in orality/literacy studies (such as Albert Lord, Eric Havelock, Walter Ong, Jack Goody and John Foley) have not yet seriously connected with the massive recent work in memory studies. Much work remains to be done in this area, although I have recently attempted an integration of collective memory and orality in relation to Hebrews 11 in the same volume of Semeia.<br /><br />Maurice Halbwachs (1877-1945), under the influence of his teacher in sociology, the great Emile Durkheim (1858-1917), regarded memory as the production of human beings living together in society. "It is in society," he wrote, "that people normally acquire their memories. It is also in society that they recall, recognize and localize their memories" (1992: 38). Although this is a strikingly Durkheimian formulation, Halbwachs had previously been influenced by Henri Bergson and so was able to resist the pull of extreme social determinism. Probably for this reason Halbwachs interested himself in groups within society, rather than just in the larger reality of society itself (Coser: 33). "Let us remark in passing," Lewis Coser observes, "that almost everywhere that Durkheim speaks of 'Society' with a capital S, Halbwachs speaks of 'groups'--a more cautious usage" (22). Collective memory as explained by Halbwachs relates to groups rather than to society at large.<br /><br />Halbwachs was much preoccupied with the ways in which a group reconstructed its memories in the present. Some theorists, such as Barry Schwartz, have argued that he traveled too far along this road, thus imperiling the continuity within which a group stands in relation to its past (1982: 25-27). Nevertheless, he was correct in affirming the capacity of groups to reconstruct the past, typically by the invention of tradition or the capture of traditions generated by other groups. More problematic, as Paul Connerton has shown, was Halbwachs' neglect of the manner in which collective memories are passed on, communicated, from one generation to another. Connerton is right to insist that "to study the social formation of memory is to study those acts of transfer that make remembering in common possible" (39).<br /><br />"When we remember," James Fentress and Chris Wickham persuasively affirm, "we represent ourselves to ourselves and to those around us. To the extent that our 'nature'--that which we truly are--can be revealed in articulation, we are what we remember." They deduce from this that "a study of the way we remember--the way we present ourselves in our memories, the way we define our personal and collective identifies through our memories, the way we order and structure our ideas in our memories, and the way we transmit these memories to others--is a study of the way we are" (7). E. Zerubavel expresses a similar view: "Being social presupposes the ability to experience things that happened to the groups to which we belong long before we even joined them as if they were part of our own personal past" (3). Zerubavel also correctly notes that much of what we "remember" did not happen to us personally. We only remember some things as members of what he usefully calls "mnemonic communities," such as particular families, organizations, ethnic groups and so on (90). It is clear that the Judeans of the first century were a mnemonic community in this sense, with an unusually large body of historical tradition, read out every sabbath in their synagogues, to sustain and enrich their communal memoria.<br /><br />Jan Assmann has developed Halbwachs' theory in the direction of identity formation by writing of the way in which "cultural memory" is an active force that seizes upon figures and subjects from the past, modifying and contextualizing them, to feed the needs and aspirations of a group in the present. This is opposed to unconvincing static approaches to memory that see it merely as a receptacle that preserves the past unchanged in something akin to a form of "cold storage," a useful notion of Kelber's (2005).<br /><br />When memory is our focus, we are less concerned with whether certain figures from the past actually existed or with what they did than with how they are remembered, with the extent to which they become what Jan Assmann has called "figures of memory" (11). Assmann points out that no one doubts that Ahenotaken lived; yet his attempt to introduce a monotheistic religion in Egypt was overturned after his death and the memory of his innovation extirpated. Whether Moses ever lived, on the other hand, is largely irrelevant, given the abiding role he has played in the memories of Israelites and other groups. The same can be said of Abraham, who was a most important figure in the collective memories of ancient Judeans, whether he ever existed or not.<br /><br />This theory provides a good foundation for comprehending how Abraham featured in the collective memory of the Judeans. We should not, like most critics commenting on Abraham in Galatians, see the issue as a battle over how best to interpret Israelite scripture in which he happens to be mentioned in important passages. The real issue is the question of Abrahamic descent itself, and the elevated status and ethnic identity that such descent entails, with scripture (accessed in oral performance and retained anamnetically) forming part of the stock of data that supports the collective memory of Abraham. By remembering Abraham, the Judeans told themselves who they were. To obtain some notion of how this process operates we might consider the current function of the memory of Abraham Lincoln to citizens of the United States or the memory of William of Orange ('Good King Willie") to the Unionist community of Northern Ireland. Using data such as the number of statues erected in his honor per year, Barry Schwartz (2000) has usefully demonstrated how the memory of Abraham Lincoln in the USA changed (and in a positive direction) during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. But to that type of memory must be added the circumstance that Judeans believed they were physically descended from Abraham. Common descent from the same ancestor is one of the major sources of communality on which traditional forms of social solidarity rest. Normally it is seen in relation to kinship in families (Zerubavel: 63-64). But with the Judeans we have a whole ethnic group claiming such connectedness. We must now consider how all this bears on what had happened in Galatia.<br /><br />Paul's Contestation of the Memory of Abraham in Galatians 3<br /><br />When we enter any new group or social environment, we usually learn what we should remember and what we should forget. Zerubavel refers to this process as "mnemonic socialization" (87). Some at least of those who turned to Christ while Paul was present in Galatia came from a background of idolatry; as he says in Galatians 4:8, "But then not knowing God you were enslaved to beings that are by nature not gods." No doubt when these converts joined the movement, he would have begun this form of socialization, by downplaying their memories of idolatrous practice and pagan values and building new memories based on the Christ-event appropriate for those who now know God (Gal 4:9). His congregations formed a new and distinctive mnemonic community that offered a fresh understanding of the past as part of their social reality and identity that transcended the subjectivity of individual members and was shared by the whole group. After his departure, however-unfortunately for him and his gospel--other people sought to continue the mnemonic socialization of these ex-idolatrous converts, but in a new direction that perplexed him greatly. Paul's opponents had begun contextualizing and mobilizing the figure of Abraham through techniques of oral persuasion (see Gal 5:7-8) to convince his converts of the desirable identity that was theirs if they were circumcised and became Judeans. In short, his opponents were inviting the converts to join the mnemonic community that was Israel. They were appealing to what Zerubavel calls a "mnemonic tradition" (87), meaning a tradition that embraces not only what should be remembered (here Abraham) but also how we should remember it (here in the link between Abrahamic descent and Judean ethnicity). Not only is this a notable instance of the way in which, as Assmann claims, figures from the past can be actively seized and re-deployed to shape identity in the past, but it also reveals one means by which memories are passed on to others, an aspect of collective memory that Halbwachs himself neglected.<br /><br />Faced with this threat, Paul had little choice but to contest the memory of Abraham. In the last few decades what it means to contest the past has become a question of great interest to some historians and social scientists. Katharine Hodgson and Susannah Radstone accurately summarize the thrust of much of this discussion as follows:</p> <pre> But to contest the past is also ... to pose questions about the present, and what the past means in the present. Our understanding of the past has strategic, political, and ethical consequences. Contests over the meaning of the past are also contests over the meaning of the present and over ways of taking the past forward [2003b: 1]. </pre> <p>In Galatians 3 Paul steps into such an arena--contesting the past as it is portrayed in Judean discourse in relation to Abraham so as to respond to the present threat (as he sees it) facing his converts. Given the dominance of the memory of Abraham among the millions of Judeans who lived around the Mediterranean in the first century CE and his centrality for their ethnic identity, this was an audacious enterprise. Yet this is not so unusual, for as Jeffrey Olick and Joyce Robbins note, "Memory contestation takes place from above and below, from both center and periphery" (21). Peripheral and minority groups, such as Paul's version of the Christ-movement, regularly confront the otherwise hegemonic memories of groups that are dominant.<br /><br />The notion of "counter-memory" has been used by F. Bouchard in relation to a particular theory of Michel Foucault as to how written texts serve to challenge dominant discourses, including living memories. A form of counter-memory more relevant to residually orally cultures, however, is evident in Stephen Cornell's account of how members of an ethnic group that have experienced a rupture in the taken-for-granted reality of their identity develop new ways to construe their past and thus make sense of their present (45-46). Often they generate narratives that can be repeated (and revised) by word of mouth as well as in written form. Here we have a counter or contested memory of wider application than that which Bouchard has discerned in Foucault's writings.<br /><br />Cornell's version of counter-memory is also applicable to Paul's reworking of the memory of Abraham for his congregations, even though, since they encompassed Judean and nonJudean members (the feature that was both characteristic of them and attracted Judean animosity), they were not ethnic but trans-ethnic (perhaps we should say "socio-religious") in character. Paul must have envisaged that once his (largely illiterate) addressees had heard his letter read to them they would remember its contents, discuss it among themselves and, above all, retain its re-presentation of Abrahamic descent in the collective memory of the movement.<br /><br />In looking at how Paul struggles to prise the memory of Abraham and the meaning of Abrahamic descent from the Judeans and embed it instead in his groups of Christ-followers, it is worth noting with Hodgkin and Radstone that the focus of mnemonic contestation "is very often not conflicting accounts of what actually happened in the past so much as the question of who or what is entitled to speak for that past in the present." In other words, "the contest is often over how truth can best be conveyed, rather than what actually happened" (2003b: 1). There may be agreement as to the course of events, but not as to how the truth of those events should be most fully represented, or how best to explain and interpret a certain episode.<br /><br />Basic information concerning Abraham was accessible to Paul and those in Galatia who opposed his version of the gospel from the Israelite scriptures, especially Genesis, which were read out aloud in Judean synagogues on the sabbath and possibly, at times, in meetings of the Christ-movement. Both sides no doubt accepted the important passages in what we call Genesis 15 and 17 as an account of what had actually happened to Abraham. They did not seek to dispute these facts. Their dispute lay in how best to interpret them. This meant not just appealing to different reaches of the memory of Abraham but also re-interpreting aspects that figured in the discourse of both Israel and the Christ-movement. Paul needed to create a new mnemonic tradition to defeat the claims of the one being advocated by his opponents. Yet we must always remember that we are not dealing with a theological argument, a battle of interpretative methods, but with the most persuasive way of interpreting scripture to serve the real end of group identity. Let us see how Paul proceeds.<br /><br />Having cited Genesis 15:6, (Abraham "put his faith in God") and prior to any argument in support, he dares in Galatians 3:7 to assert that the "sons of Abraham" are "those of faith." To interpret: Christ-followers are the descendants of Abraham. He is establishing an ingroup identity that embraces Abraham and Christ-follower on the basis that they are both typified by faith. It is the extremely fortunate predication of faith to Abraham in Genesis 15:6 before he was circumcised that allowed Paul to wrest Abraham from the Judeans. Thus, at a stroke, he attaches Abrahamic descent and the high status identity that went with it, to Christ-followers. This categorical way of stating the position allows, quite remarkably, no room for anyone else to share such status and identity. Paul is not suggesting that there are various ways to manifest Abraham's lineage and that being a Christ-follower is one of them. No, faith in Christ is the only way he will allow. This sentiment, which is extraordinarily anti-Judean to the extent it denies them Abrahamic descent but nicely illustrates how far someone contesting a dominant memory may go, is confirmed in the way Paul proceeds to mount his defense of this proposition.<br /><br />Paul continues by saying, "Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the non-Judeans by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying 'All the non-Judeans will be blessed in you'" (3:8; a quotation from Genesis 12:3 in the Septuagint). In v 8 scripture (here in the form of Genesis 12:3) is said to have foreseen that God would justify the non-Judeans through faith and to have announced in advance that in Abraham all the non-Judeans would be blessed. This means--he insists in v 9--that those of faith are blessed with the faithful Abraham. This reinforces his point in w 6-7 about the faith connection: namely, that faith designates a beneficial ("blessed") ingroup identity embracing Christ-followers and Abraham. But it also indicates that Paul shares with his opponents a belief in the relevance of Israelite written tradition as providing material on which the debate should conducted. This was a common resource feeding into the collective memories of Judean and Christ-follower. While it is quite possible that Paul rather than his opponents brought Genesis 12:3 into the discussion, the issue is still not the basic facts concerning Abraham, but the question of how the truth of those events should be best interpreted.<br /><br />The section after this (3:10-14) initially moves off in a new direction, by asserting that those who rely on the works of the law are under a curse. It is evident that no one is justified before God by the law since scripture says, "The person who is righteous by faith will live" (from the Septuagint of Habbakuk 2:4). Paul then redirects the discussion back to Abraham by asserting that Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law (3:13), "in order that the blessings of Abraham might come upon the non-Judeans in Christ Jesus, so that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith" (3:14).<br /><br />Paul's attempt to win control of central Israelite memory continues with equal audacity in these verses. His abrupt charge (in v 10) that those who rely on works of the law are under a curse is made on the alleged basis of Deuteronomy 27:26. Hitherto, Israel had no doubt drawn the message from Deuteronomy (28:1-14 for example) that adherence to the law brought blessing and life and had installed that message in its collective memory. It was by not performing the requirements of the law that one attracted a curse (as, indeed, at Deuteronomy 27:26). Paul's argumentative gambit here is difficult to understand unless we assume that he is suggesting that no one actually did obey the law (Esler 1998: 187). He props up his case by interpreting Habbakuk 2:4 to mean that life comes from faith (and not, by necessary implication, from law). These arguments are predicated upon a strong form of ingroup/outgroup differentiation with the outgroup being stereotyped in an extreme way. His point in v 12 appears to be that law cannot be connected with faith, but those who adhere to the law will live by it, a position that seems to make sense only on the basis that Paul was of the view that no one would obey the law and hence obtain life. Only faith could bring life.<br /><br />In Galatians 3:13 Paul asserts that Christ has solved the problem of the curse of the law by purchasing us from it, by coming under the curse in his crucifixion. The purpose and result of this (the "so that"--hina--of v 14 carries both meanings) was that the blessing of Abraham might occur in Christ Jesus, with the purpose and result ("so that" again) "we might take the promise of the Spirit through faith" (v 14b). However the Abrahamic blessing might have been interpreted in the interests of recommending Judean ethnicity, Paul now radically reworks this particular collective memory by interpreting it to refer to the wonderful gifts of the Spirit that he has mentioned just above in Galatians 3:2-4, where he presented the miracles (v 4)--prophecy, speaking in tongues etc.--as fundamental to the identity of his congregations of Christ-followers (Gal 3:1-6).<br /><br />Once he has thus positively connected the Abrahamic promise to the Christ-movement, Paul then proceeds to disconnect it from the Judeans with a daring piece of exegesis. Thus in Galatians 3:15-16 we find him reinterpreting a section of Israelite tradition, the repeated promises God makes to Abraham in Genesis to give the land to him and his seed (Gen 12:7; 13:15; 17:7; 24:7). It is almost certain that Paul's opponents were pointing to this usage in connection with their overall depiction of Judean ethnic identity. They were most probably appealing to the straightforward and literal sense of this word, the peshat of later generations (Brewer 14), to interpret it as referring to the physical descendants of Abraham (including those who joined this lineage through circumcision). This must have formed an important component of the mnemonic tradition of Israel that they were propounding to Paul's converts in Galatia. Paul meets this claim by contesting how the truth from the remembered past can best be conveyed. Adopting a necessarily strained interpretation of "seed," he fixes upon its singular number to make a bold statement of identity: "The promises were spoken to Abraham and his seed. It does not say, 'And to your seeds,' referring to many, but to one, 'And to your seed,' which is Christ" (3:16). This, on its own, does not yield the conclusion that non-Judeans Christ-followers are Abraham's seed. He gets to that result only a little later--at 3:29, as we shall see below.<br /><br />This prompts Paul to propose a very sharp antithesis, "For if the inheritance is by law, it is no longer by promise; but God gave it to Abraham through a promise" (3:19).<br /><br />Following his novel interpretation of Abaham's "seed," in Galatians 3:17-20 Paul fends off Judean mnemonic socialization and reinforces the mnemonic tradition he is constructing by denying any continuing role for the Mosaic covenant. He begins by insisting that the law, which came 430 years after Abraham, cannot annul this covenant so as to make the promise void (3:17). In essence, the law given on Sinai was intended for the limited purpose of restraining transgressions. (I have elsewhere argued against the extraordinary proposition that God gave the law in order to provoke transgressions--1998: 195-97). The memory of Moses and the law he received on Sinai played a pivotal role in maintaining Judean identity, and for this reason Paul has been driven to contest its significance. But there are limits to which he will go, as is evident in Galatians 3:19-20. These are difficult verses, but in my view they are best interpreted along the lines that Paul is not saying anything particularly negative about the law. He cannot, after all, assert that it lacked all connection with the divine purpose. Rather, his point is that because there were angels involved in its delivery to Moses, it was not given to Israel in the direct way in which God made his promise to Abraham (Esler 1998: 198-200). The section comprising Galatians 3:21-25 further develops Paul's devaluation of the law of Moses, by showing its incapacity to bring righteousness and its limited role in the period up to the coming of Christ. The image of the paidagogos in vv 23-25 brings this out very dearly. The paidagogos was essentially a positive figure: he was meant to protect the boy in his charge and restrain him from inappropriate behavior (with harsh discipline if necessary), but only for a limited period, and then his powers ceased (Esler 1998:201-03).<br /><br />This brings Paul to his magnificent conclusion to this section of the text dealing with Abraham (Galatians 3:26-29). Here he paints an exalted picture of identity-in-Christ. He begins with a statement of the current status and identity of his addressees: they are sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus (v 26). Then he moves to the mechanism and process by which they acquired this identity--by baptism: those who have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ (v 27). This leads, in turn, in v 28, to the great exultation of unity in Christ Jesus (a unity of Judean and Greek, slave and free, male and female), yet this is not some isolated statement, for all the while the argument is pushing on to its summative conclusion: "If you are of Christ, surely you are the seed of Abraham, heirs according to the promise" (3:29). This is the necessary conclusion to an argument that had earlier insisted that the seed to whom the promise referred was Christ. For Christ-followers to share in the promise, they must be one in and with that seed. With this statement in v 29, Paul announces the conclusion of an argument the thesis of which he set out at 3:7: it is those who have faith in Christ who are the sons or seed of Abraham. There is no suggestion here that Judeans outside the Christ-movement are also the sons of Abraham. This represents the fullest pitch of Paul's mnemonic socialization of his converts. He has contested the memory of Abraham to such a degree as to remove Abrahamic descent entirely as an element in Judean identity and lodge it firmly in among the ranks of the Christ-followers of Galatia.<br /><br />It is worth noting that later, when he was composing Romans, he drew back from so extreme a position. There is no sign that there were people in Rome putting pressure on Greek Christ-followers to be circumcised and become Judeans, in which context Abraham and descent from him could have been held out as attractive features of Judean ethnic identity. This meant Paul could afford to be much more relaxed about Abraham. This is why we find him saying in Romans 4:1: "What, therefore, shall we say Abraham our forefather in the flesh to have found [sc. to be the case]?" Here "in the flesh" includes a Judean connected to Abraham both "by natural descent" and "through circumcision"--that is, a native-born Judean and a proselyte. Since Paul is addressing a mixed group of Judean and non-Judean Christ-followers in Rome, when he refers to Abraham as "our forefather in the flesh" he is invoking a physical connection, a kinship, with Abraham (either from birth or by proselyte circumcision) which embraces him and the Judean Christ-followers he is addressing, but also extends to Judeans outside the Christ-movement. There is no implication here, therefore, as there was in Galatians, that the postulation of Abrahamic descent for Christ-followers meant its loss for Judeans who were not followers of Christ. Paul will go on in Romans 4 to work Abraham into the collective memory of the Christ-followers, but without the sharp antithetical shape to his argument in Galatians.<br /><br />Conclusions<br /><br />Many explanations have been offered for the role of Abraham in the argument Paul mounts in Galatians 3. But all of them hitherto have missed the centrality of ethnicity and collective memory in understanding what Paul says and how he says it. Abraham was central to the ethnic identity of the Judeans of his time, as Paul was only too aware. He knew that in Galatia his opponents were using this glorious figure from the collective memory and mnemonic tradition of Israel in their attempt to persuade Paul's non-Judean converts to become Judeans through circumcision. To counter this threat he had to detach Abraham from Israel and its collective memory and attach it to the Christ-movement and its collective memory. Central to his argument is the claim that Christ is the seed referred to in the scriptural promises made "to Abraham and his seed" and that Christ-followers receive these promises because through baptism they are all one in Christ Jesus. 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Social Memory and Christian Origins, Semeia Studies, 52. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature.<br /><br />Konstan, David. 1997. Redefining Ancient Greek Ethnicity. Diaspora 6:97-110.<br /><br />Longenecker, Bruce W. 1998. The Triumph of Abraham's God: The Transformation of Identity in Galatians. Edinburgh, UK: T & T Clark.<br /><br />Lyons, George. 1985. Pauline Autobiography: Toward a new Understanding. Society of Biblical Literature, Dissertation Series 73. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press.<br /><br />Malkin, Irad, ed. 2001. Ancient Perceptions of Greek Ethnicity. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies and Trustees for Harvard University.<br /><br />Martyn, J. Louis. 1997. Galatians: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. The Anchor Bible, Volume 33A. New York: Doubleday.<br /><br />Olick, Jeffrey K., ed. 2003. States of Memory: Continuities, Conflicts, and Transformations in National Retrospection. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.<br /><br />Olick, Jeffrey K., & Joyce Robbins. 1998. Social Memory Studies: From "Collective Memory" to the Historical Sociology of Mnemonic Practices. Annula Reviw of Sociology 24:105-40 (cited here in the electronic version with different pagination).<br /><br />Schwartz, Barry. 2000. Abraham Lincoln and the Forge of Memory. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.<br /><br />1982. The Social Context of Commemoration: A Study in Collective Memory. Social Forces 61:374-402.<br /><br />Siker, Jeffrey S. 1991. Disinheriting the Jews: Abraham in Early Christian Controversy. Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press.<br /><br />Spickard, Paul, & W. Jeffrey Burroughs, eds. 2000. We Are a People: Narrative and Multiplicity in Contructing Ethnic Identity. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.<br /><br />Vermeulen, H., & C. Govers, eds. 1994. The Anthropology of Ethnicity: Beyond "Ethnic Groups and Boundaries." Amsterdam, The Netherlands: Het Spinhuis.<br /><br />Watson, Francis. 2004. Paul and the Hermeneutics of Faith. Edinburgh, UK: T & T Clark.<br /><br />Weber, Max. 1978 (1922). Ethnic Groups, in Economy and Society. Volume I. Edited by Guenther Roth and Claus Wittich. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 385-98.<br /><br />Zerubavel, Eviatar. 2003. Time Maps: Collective Memory and the Social Shape of the Past. Chicago, IL/London, UK: The University of Chicago Press.<br /><br />Philip F. Esler (D. Phil., Oxford) is Chief Executive of the UK Arts and Humanities Research Council (a post he is holding while on extended leave from his position as Professor of Biblical Criticism in the University of St. Andrews, Scotland, UK). He joined the St. Andrews faculty in 1992, having previously been a barrister in Sydney, Australia. Professor Esler is the author of Galatians (London, UK/New York, NY: Routledge, 1998), Conflict and Identity in Romans (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), and New Testament Theology: Communion and Community (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2005), and the editor of Modelling Early Christianity (London, UK/New York, NY: Roudedge, 199.5) and The Early Christian World (two volumes, London, UK/New York, NY: Routledge, 2000). His e-mail address is p.esler@ahrc.ac.uk.<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-24710161519945239052007-07-06T20:11:00.000-07:002007-07-06T20:13:02.401-07:00Worship in the fourth gospel: a cultural interpretation of John 14-17—Part II<img src="http://people.smu.edu/dwatson/johnt2.jpg"/><br /><br /><br />Worship in the fourth gospel: a cultural interpretation of John 14-17—Part II<br /><br />Jerome H. Neyrey<br />Abstract<br /><br />Typical readers interpret John 14-17 as a Farewell Address, and for good reason. But that hardly exhausts its contents, for the form of a farewell address simply misses all that Jesus has to say about worship in the group. From the gospel's beginning we find a steady focus on temple, mountains for worship, feasts and their objects of prayer and celebration, and the like. But in John 14-17 we are told about prayer: Jesus' own prayer to God and his instructions to the disciples to petition "in my name." If prayer is communication to God, God also communicates to his devotees, primarily in words. Hence we find exhortations to remain and to love; oracles of many sorts, such as warning, judgment, assurance, salvation and the like. We find a particular focus on the words of Jesus, things he said but were not understood, special revelations to a special group, all of which is facilitated by the Advocate/Spirit. Most importantly, the personnel of worship are dearly defined: the Patron Father who bestows benefaction on his clients by means of Jesus, the Broker. Jesus, in turn, brokers the concerns to the clients to the Patron. Finally, the household with many rooms is not space out of the world, but relationships brokered by Jesus. These remain miscellaneous pieces until seen in the light of a cultural model of worship.<br /><br />**********<br /><br />Part Two: Place of Worship & Patron-Broker<br /><br />In the first part of this article, emphasis was placed on communication "upwards," as it were: the disciples' learning to pray. In what follows, the emphasis is reversed, as we see Jesus teaching the disciples to listen.<br /><br />Patron-Broker-Client Relations.<br /><br />Patrons and Clients<br /><br />Patron-client relations have long enjoyed the attention of classicists (Saller, Wallace-Hadrill). Frederick Danker's book BENEFACTOR brought to the attention of New Testament scholars the tradition of honoring benefactors, a form of patron-client relations characteristic of the eastern Mediterranean. And Bruce Malina pioneered the formal use of the anthropology of patron-client relations to interpret early Christian literature (Malina 1988). Malina's model of patron-client relations describes those that arise between peoples of unequal status and resources: landlord/vassal, aristocrat/peasant, king/subject, father/son, and God/Israel. Thus patron-client relationships describe the vertical dimension of exchange between higher-status and lower-status persons.<br /><br />When John Elliott defines patron and client relations, he highlights the mutual exchange of goods and services: "A 'patron' (patronus, patrona) is one who uses his or her influence to protect and assist some other person who becomes the patron's 'client' (cliens). In return, this client provides the patron with certain valued services" (Elliott: 148-49). As noted above, the topic of patron-client relations is not new to the study of the New Testament and early Christianity Mott: 60-72), and so does not need to be rehearsed here. We should, however, widen the model to accommodate another person in the patron-client relationship, the broker (Malina & Rohrbaugh 1998:117-119). In social or commercial terms, a broker places people in touch with each other, such as a real estate broker, a stock broker, or a marriage broker (Malina 1988:11-18). A broker must be suitably placed to be accessible both to clients seeking aid and patrons who might provide assistance. Thus a broker is a bridge (i.e., pontifex) or link or mediator between patrons and clients.<br /><br />Broker in Patron-Client Relations<br /><br />Writing on "mediator" in 1967, Albert Oepke identified the following social roles in the ancient world that exemplify the role of broker or mediator. A mesites is a person who (I) is "neutral" to two parties and negotiates peace or guarantees agreements, (2) arranges business deals, (3) receives as king divine laws and offers sacrifice for the people, (4) offers as priest prayers and sacrifice to God on behalf of individuals and the people, (5) brings as prophet a teaching or mighty work from God, (6) founds a new cult or religion, and (7) delivers as angel communication from God.<br /><br />As Oepke also notes, the New Testament calls Jesus a broker in many ways: he is the unique mediator between the one God and humankind (1 Tim 2:5), the mediator of the new covenant (Heb 8:6; 9:15; 12:24) and a "priest according to the order of Melchizedek" (Heb 5:6; 6:20; 7:17). In contrast to the Levitical priesthood, Jesus' priesthood/brokerage is vastly superior because Jesus "is able for all time to save those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them" (Heb 7:25).<br /><br />We are hardly the first to read John 17 in terms of mediation. Already back in patristic times, the prayer comprising John 17 was labeled "the high priestly" prayer, a tag still affixed to it. Our interpretation accepts the perception of Jesus' role as a mediator figure, not simply in chapter 17, but in the whole Farewell Address. Building on past studies of John 14-17, we wish to use the social science model of patron, broker, and client to interpret the role of Jesus as broker as an essential part of understanding worship in the Fourth Gospel (Borgen: 137-48).<br /><br />What does the role of "broker" look like in a system of patron-client relations (Oepke: 615)? One anthropologist identifies four elements of a broker's functioning: (1) capital (channels of influence and communication), (2) tariff (what the broker receives for services), (3) debt (promises he makes), and (4) interest (his calculation of what and when his tariff will be paid) (Boissevain: 158-62). It helps, moreover, to distinguish what is exchanged in a patron-broker-client relationship. Clients typically seek protection and access to scarce resources, which are called first-order resources. A broker most frequently has second-order goods, namely, access to patrons and skill in connecting the right client with the right patron. In the rough and tumble of village or urban life in antiquity, there might be many clients working through many brokers to gain access to many patrons. But in the Fourth Gospel, there is only one patron (God) and one clientage (Israel, including the Johannine group), but competing brokers (Jesus vs. Moses, Abraham, Temple, synagogue) (Piper:. 295-97).<br /><br />Jesus as Broker in John 14-17<br /><br />Let us situate Jesus in relationship, first to the Patron-Father and then to the clients-disciples. It is generally agreed that a successful broker must be part of the two worlds that are joined. The author expresses Jesus' relation to the heavenly world in many ways. For example, Jesus was sent by God (17:3, 21), which social- science interpreters call his ascribed authority or honor. Moreover, in 17:5 and 24 Jesus speaks of glory that he had from his Patron before the world was made, which clearly describes Jesus as belonging to the heavenly world. Thus Jesus' relationship to the Patron is ancient, intimate, and enduring. In John 17, moreover, Jesus repeatedly tells us how loyally he has served the interests of his Patron:<br /><br />17:4 I glorified you on earth, having accomplished what you gave me to do<br /><br />17:6 I manifested your name to whom you gave me<br /><br />17:8 I have given them the words that you gave me<br /><br />17:12 while I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you gave me<br /><br />17:14 I have given them Your word<br /><br />He accomplished what God gave him to do, which specifically means manifesting the Patron's name (also in 17:11, 12) and delivering the Patron's words. In addition, Jesus brokered the following for his earthly clients: (I) power (17:2), (2) protection (17:12), and (3) glory (17:22). Thus Jesus belongs to the Patron's world, shares in the riches of that world, and loyally serves the interests of his Patron.<br /><br />Jesus the broker also belongs to the clients' world and serves their interests as well. For example, Jesus confesses to the Patron the many ways in which he has brokered the safety of the clients:<br /><br />17:12 I kept them in your name, none is lost but ...<br /><br />17:13 These things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in them<br /><br />17:15 I do not say take them out of the world, but keep them from the evil one<br /><br />17:19 For their sake I consecrate myself, that they may be consecrated in truth<br /><br />He not only protected them, but seeks their continued safety. Moreover, he envisions a future brokerage, which includes: (1) keeping them from the evil one (17:15), and (2) being with Jesus where he is in glory (17:24). In an expression of limitless brokering, Jesus repeatedly declares that his clients are assured of his brokerage when they "ask in my name":<br /><br />14:13 Whatsoever you ask for in my name, I will do it<br /><br />14:14 If you ask anything in my name, I will do it<br /><br />15:16 so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you<br /><br />16:24 Hitherto you have asked nothing in my name; ask, and you will receive 16:26 In that day you will ask in my name and I do not say to you that I shall pray the Father for you; for the Father himself loves you.<br /><br />Jesus is the unique broker, for "no one comes to the Father, but by me" (14:6).<br /><br />Another Broker or a Sub-Broker?<br /><br />In the Farewell Address, Jesus announces that a "Paraclete" will come (14:16, 26; 15:26; 16:7), whose chief function seems to be brokering, brokering either the Patron's or Jesus' benefactions. Since most discussions of the Paraclete begin with a history of the term, we do so likewise, but with reliance on Grayston's article especially as revised by Tricia Brown (Grayston: 67-82; Brown: 170-82). The first half of Grayston's study of "paraclete" attacked the univocal meaning of this role defined in classical dictionaries as legal advisor or assistant; as he points out, there was no role in ancient law courts that corresponds to a defense attorney. Supporter, yes, but defense attorney, no. The rare use of the term from Demosthenes to Diogenes Laertius prompts this conclusion: "parakletos was a word of general meaning which could appear in legal contexts, and when it did the parakletos was a supporter or sponsor" (Grayston: 75). In his conclusion, Grayston generalized that the Paraclete is, as it were, "an eminent person through whom the petitioner gains favourable access to the Father" (Grayston: 80). Tricia Brown read Grayston's data, but through the social-science lens of patron-broker-client relations, and in nearly every case, the parakletos can be said to function as mediator between two estranged parties (Philo, Jos. 238-40), as mediator of access to God (Philo, Vita Moses 2.134), as mediator between God and Israel (Philo, On Rewards and Punishments, 166), and as an intercessor with the emperor (Philo, In Flaccum, 22-23). Thus she concludes: "We submit that in most of the texts we have studied the word 'parakletos" would best be translated 'mediator' or 'broker'" (Brown: 181).<br /><br />Regarding the Paraclete in terms of the patron-broker-client model, the following chart should help us grasp the Paraclete's position and function.<br /><br />The Paraclete's functions remarkably parallel those of Jesus, a point argued in contemporary Johannine scholarship (Martyn: 143-46; Burge: 137-41). He has, moreover, the same role as Jesus, inasmuch as he is called "another Paraclete," Jesus being the first. Thus he functions in the same role as Jesus; or he serves Jesus, inasmuch as in all three references cited above he (I) brings to mind what Jesus said, (2) bears witness to him, and (3) glorifies him. Thus the Paraclete/Spirit is not an independent player, so to speak. If Jesus' role is that of broker between God/Patron and the disciples/clients, the Paraclete is Jesus' sub-broker. Observations such as these are steadily making their way into Johannine scholarship (Franck: 42, 48, 67-68, 84, 138).<br /><br />What significance, then, does learning that the Paraclete functions in the role of broker or mediator have for understanding worship in John 14-17? As conveyor both of God's words to the clients and the clients' prayers to God, Jesus-the-broker plays the essential role of mediator or broker in the worship of God. The Paraclete, however, seems to function as a sub- or co-broker to Jesus. He makes intelligible to the clients Jesus' teaching and person; he continues Jesus' forensic judgment of the world. But nothing is said about his being the broker of the group's prayers, which are all made "in my [Jesus'] name." Thus the Paraclete functions as the mediator of God's and Jesus' words/teachings, which might in a worship service be evident in prophecy, preaching and teaching the Jesus story, and even in understanding the Scriptures.<br /><br />Not on This Mountain Nor in Jerusalem. But Where?<br /><br />As noted earlier, Jesus' declaration that his body would be the new, true Temple (2:19-22) is followed by a dispute with a Samaritan woman about where to worship, Mt. Gerizim or Mt. Zion (4:20), which Jesus de-classifies as sacred places of worship (Swanson: 248-51). Thus, the Johannine disciples have no fixed sacred space in contrast with Samaritan and Israelite temples. Nor does the local synagogue serve as the site of its worship, for public confession of Jesus as the Christ means expulsion from that assembly (9:22, 12:42-43 and 16:l-2).But if_not Mt. Gerizlm, not Jerusalem, not the synagogue, then where? One of the dominant themes discussed in John 14-17 is where worship will take place. We argue that parts of the answer will come from a fresh consideration of (1) "many rooms" (14:2), (2) "being in" and "dwelling in," and (3) physical closeness to Jesus. But first let us employ an anthropological model of space to appreciate Jesus' de-classification of Mts. Gerizim and Zion.<br /><br />Fixed vs Fluid Sacred Space (4:21-24)<br /><br />"Not on this mountain, nor in Jerusalem" negates fixed sacred space, that is temples and the elaborate systems that surround them: priests, offerings, tithes, revenues, the cultic building, its adornment and maintenance, and hosts of diverse persons to staff it, perform in it, and guard it. Ethnic temples are clear examples of fixed sacred space, which is often expressed by claiming that the temple is the "navel" or "center" of the world. Since discussion of fixed or fluid space depends on some social theory of space, let us briefly examine a model commonly used in the anthropology of space, namely, "territoriality." Robert Sack, a representative of modern research, defines it as follows:<br /><br /> Territoriality will be defined as the attempt to affect,<br /> influence, or control people, phenomena, and relationships,<br /> by delimiting and asserting control over a geographic<br /> area ....Territories require constant effort to establish<br /> and maintain [Sack: 19].<br />This means that groups typically engage in a three-step process: (1) classification of the space (mine/yours, sacred/ profane, etc.), (2) communication of the classification (fences, gates, walls), and (3) control of the space. Within this overarching model, let us examine "fluid" vs "fixed" sacred space. On this point we turn to Mary Douglas and one of her best interpreters, Bruce J. Malina. Of fixed sacred space, Malina writes:<br /><br /> Just as persons have their statuses by ascription and<br /> perdure in that status indefinitely, the same holds true<br /> for places. The topography of the main places where people<br /> in this script live out their lives is rather permanent.<br /> A palace location, a temple location, and a homestead stay<br /> in the same place and with the same lineage through<br /> generations [Malina 1986:31].<br />Thus fixed sacred space correlates with fixed roles and statuses. All of this is characterized by redundant aspects of stability, permanence and continuity. The temple-city of Jerusalem exemplifies this well. Of fluid sacred space, Malina writes:<br /><br /> This situation of porous boundaries and competing groups<br /> stands in great contrast to the solid, hierarchical, pyramidal<br /> shape of strong group/high grid [fixed space] ... as groups<br /> form and re-form anew, permanence is no longer to be found<br /> outside the group; and where the group is, there is stability.<br /> Sacred space is located in the group, not in some impersonal<br /> space like a temple. The group is the central location of<br /> importance, whether the Body of Christ, the church, for Christians,<br /> or the synagogue gathering for Jews, or the philosophical<br /> "schools." ... Discourse within these groups, whether the<br /> words of a portable Torah, the story of Jesus, or the exhortations<br /> of the philosopher-teacher, becomes the mobile, portable,<br /> exportable focus of sacred place, in fact more important than<br /> the fixed and eternal sacred places [Malina 1986: 38].<br />Malina's classification is based on considerations of space and time, at which we must look more closely. The following chart should make explicit the contrasts on every level between fixed and fluid sacred space.<br /><br />This model of fluid vs. fixed sacred space alerts us to certain aspects of worship as they may appear in John 1417. First, significant attention must be given to group, not place; second, the channel of the communication which is worship will not be sacrifice, performed by a priest whose competency rests on birth into the appropriate clan or family, but verbal worship, which is both verbal prayer to God and verbal listening to God's word as this is articulated by competent figures in the group. In short, where the group is, there is the place of worship.<br /><br />In My Father's House There Are Many Rooms (14:2)<br /><br />Beginnings are generally significant rhetorical places to establish a topic, and we read John 14:2 in this manner. This verse contains two phrases: (I) "in my Father's house there are many rooms" and (2) "I am going to prepare a place for you." A recent dissertation on these verses offers critical, inventive interpretation of it. McCaffrey notes that "my Father's house" has been variously explained as heaven, the heavenly temple, the messianic kingdom, even the universe (McCaffrey: 29-35). Since there is no longer any fixed sacred space or earthly temple made sacred by God's dwelling, we look to God's "realm" as the place for worshiping God--wherever that may be. McCaffrey, moreover, adds to the discussion an important consideration, namely, that "house" suggests relationships, such as a Father-Son or intimate kinship relationship (McCaffery: 49-64). In this house/household, then, are many relations, Father and son, God and disciples, and perhaps other Christians yet to be brought in--"many rooms" (see John 17:20-22; Swanson: 244-45, 257-60). And when Jesus states that "I go to prepare a place for you," he goes not as an architect but as a broker of relationships which will secure access to God through himself. Thus we are inclined to read 14:2, in terms of personal relationships and not in terms of buildings or space.<br /><br />Jesus next states that he "goes away and comes back"--he goes "to prepare a place for you" and then says "I will come back and will take you to myself." His purpose is that "where I am you also may be." Having brokered his relationship with the Father, he returns to solidify his relationship with God's clients. He does not say that he will take the disciples to the "Father's house," but rather facilitates his brokerage by maintaining a favored relationship with the disciples. Thus, I would extend the sense of "relationship" to the "place" which Jesus prepares: Jesus functions, as we will shortly argue, as broker in a patron-client relationship first linked with his Father-Patron and then with his disciples-clients. As tortured as it may sound, Jesus is in two "places" at once: in heaven (in relationship with God, wherever God is) and on earth (in relationship with disciples, wherever they gather). Balancing his remark that he has access to God's presence, he also "takes the disciples to myself." Thus they too have access to God's house, but only in relation to Jesus. Poor Thomas, who does not know the way to the Father's house! Jesus tells him, "I am the way ..." (14:6), that is, the exclusive relationship with God and the unique broker to God: "No one comes to the Father, but by me." Jesus, then, is both relationship and access, but he is not "place."<br /><br />Later Jesus amplifies the meanings we argue for "Father's house" and "place": "If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him" (14:23). Once more, the key to this "geography" is relationship: (1) a disciple loving Jesus and keeping his word, (2) the Father loving this disciple, and (3)their coming to him and making a "home" ("room," as in 14:2) with him. Jesus again serves as the key link, the broker or mediator. The disciple-client, then, must maintain faithfulness with this mediator, which relationship will be honored by the Father-Patron. Thus a link between disciple and Father is forged in and through Jesus. The purpose or utility of this relationship comes from the benefaction the Patron then shows the client, namely, "we will make our home with him." Any disciple may fit this description, and any earthly place is suitable for this relationship to occur. The only exclusive thing that makes this place "sacred" is the fact that only a disciple in such a relationship with Jesus has a relationship with the Father.<br /><br />Later Jesus petitions God for a benefaction related to the Johannine statement studied above, namely, that "place" = relationship: "Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to behold my glory that you have given me in your love for me before the foundation of the world" (17:24). The related figures include "Father, ....I," "they whom you gave me," that is, the same persons described in terms of patron-broker-clients above. The Patron has already established the broker with his clients, but he is now petitioned to bestow on them a unique blessing: "to behold my glory that you have given me in your love for me before the foundation of the world." What can "be with me where I am" mean? Several times in John 17 Jesus recognizes the non-relatedness of the disciples to "the world" While they are "in the world" (17:11), they are not "of the world" (17:14). Nevertheless, Jesus does not ask that they be removed from the world: "I do not pray that you should take them out of the world, but that you should keep them from the evil one" (17:15). Thus "that they be with me where I am" is no heavenly ascent nor a spatial relocation. Rather, the directional and spatial patterns we have been observing suggest that such language is best understood in terms of relationships. The relationship of Jesus with the Father contains elements of obedience, love, and generosity. In John 17, we are told thirteen times that the Father "gave" Jesus something, such as "power over all flesh" (17:2), "those you gave me" (17:6, 9, 24), "everything" (17:7), "the words you gave me" (17:8, 14), "the name" (17:11-12), and "glory" (17:22, 24). And Jesus' numerous petitions suggest that God will continue giving and giving in Jesus' name. Similarly, the Jesus-broker and disciples-clients relationship contains strains of loyalty, generosity and faithfulness. For example, Jesus, gifted with the "name" of God, reveals it to his disciples (17:6, 11, 12, 26); he has given them God's "word" (17:14, 17) and "glory" (17:22, 24). It is not enough that God play patron to his disciples via a broker; the fullest benefaction will occur when the broker "takes" the disciples close to God--a relationship, not a geographical or fixed sacred place.<br /><br />Thus we return to the phrase "to behold my glory which you have given me in your love for me before the foundation of the world" The "place" of Jesus' pre-creation glory must be in the presence of God--in the bosom of God (i:18; 17:5). Jesus' petition in 17:24 does not require that the disciples be taken to a new place or be transported heavenward. His prayer may be accomplished by some sort of christophany in which the disciples "behold my glory." That is, they who are still in the world will see into heaven, just as Nathanael and others in 1:51 were promised a vision, if not of heaven itself then certainly of heavenly persons (see Acts 7:55-56). Thus Jesus' declaration in 14:2 that there are "many rooms" in the Father's house and its repetition in 14:23 are best understood as descriptions of relationships, not places such as were de-classified in 4:21. No specific earthly place in the world is envisioned, but rather a relationship between the Father, Jesus, and the disciples, which we describe as a Patron-Broker-client relationship.<br /><br />"Being In" and "Dwelling In"<br /><br />We find in John 14 and 15 a number of remarks by Jesus describing his relationship with both the Father and disciples, which are seemingly expressed in spatial terms. He expresses his relationship with the Father in two ways: (1) "I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (14:10, 11, 20), and "the Father dwells in me" (14:10b). Similarly, Jesus' relationship with the disciples parallels that between him and God: "I am in my Father and you in me and I in you" (14:20). Although one might think of "in" as a spatial term ("in my Father's house there are many rooms"), as we have noted, the disciples do not travel to another place nor does "being in" necessarily imply spatial location.<br /><br />Likewise with "dwell in." In terms of Jesus' relationship with God, we are told that "the Father dwells in me" (14:10b). The same verb is used 10 times in 15:4-10 to express the relationship of Jesus with the disciples. On the one hand, the disciple must "dwell" in or remain in or sustain loyalty to Jesus: "the branch cannot bear fruit unless it 'dwells' in the vine" (15:4). Conversely, if a branch "dwells" in the vine, the vine curiously will "dwell" in the branch: "dwell in me and I in you" (15:4, 5b). An alternate way of expressing this in 15:7 indicates a basis for this type of dwelling: "If you 'dwell' in me and my words 'dwell' in you ...." Finally, the Spirit will "dwell" in you and 'be' in you (14:17).<br /><br />Although the metaphors are those of space, we best understand them in terms of relationships. Paul urges the Philippians to have the "mind of Christ," that is, his thoughts, values, relationships, etc. Such a person would then resemble Jesus; one might even say that Jesus dwells in that disciple. A useful image of this might be a coin, with Jesus' image on one side and that of the disciple on the other, only it also resembles Jesus. Often Jesus declares that he has God's powers, words, commands; and so we have another coin, with God on one side and Jesus on the other. Now let us fuse the two coins, with the two Jesus sides face-to-face. Then God dwells in Jesus as do the disciples; and through Jesus, God dwells in the disciples and the disciples dwell in God. What type of relationships do we envision? At least two categories are suitable here: (1) kinship relationships (father, son, household), and (2) patron-broker-client--both the Father and Jesus and Jesus and the disciples.<br /><br />C. H. Dodd saw the same phenomenon, although he did not interpret it as the foundation of worship in the Fourth Gospel. His observations are worth noting (Dodd: 187).<br /><br />Consideration of relationships reminds us of the Greek virtue of righteousness in which duties to God, family and polls are articulated. All these relationships demand faithfulness and loyalty. Occasionally one finds "love" cited as a way in which duty is shown. These expressions of relationship have a bearing on how we read parts of the Farewell Address. Juxtaposed to the exhortation to "dwell" in Jesus and to "love," we find a paragraph about "hate." The world hates the disciples (15:18-25), a hatred which is expressed in 16:1-2 where they are told of expulsion from the synagogue and death. Jesus' explains why he tells them this prediction: "to keep you from falling away." Later he predicts that they will not "remain" but will "be scattered, every man to his home" (16:32). In the face of "hate," "scandal," and "scattering," the exhortation to "dwell" in Jesus takes on special significance. Nevertheless, the discourse, while on the level of physical separation and distancing, expresses close relationship of the highest sort. Thus "being in" and "dwelling in" correspond to "love," but "scandal" and "scattering" are the converse. Loyal and faithful relationships, we argue, best explain these erstwhile spatial terms.<br /><br />Therefore, as regards the place of worship for the Johannine group, we draw the following conclusions. Although the group meets in a particular place, this is not fixed sacred space. When the group finishes its worship, the place becomes secular again. This sort of arrangement suggests that little by way of funding is needed, certainly not the system of sacrifices, dress and adornment of the Temple. Nor do we hear of or expect notice of a leader of worship; there certainly is no system of priestly ministers as found in the Temple. The focus of worship is "text," both the Scriptures but also the words of Jesus. His words are a portable shrine.<br /><br />Summary, Conclusions, Further Questions<br /><br />Summary<br /><br />This study began by providing a current descriptive inventory of worship. In addition, we developed a social science model of worship based on communication theory which adequately explains how both prayer and other types of worship (prophecy, homily, etc.) all belong together as diverse aspects of worship. The communications model identifies and interprets the two directions of communication: (1) worshipers sending a message to the deity for a specific purpose and (2) the deity sending a message to the worshipers for various purposes. The model identifies both the medium of the communication and the channel along which it is sent, as well as a wide variety of purposes for the communication.<br /><br />In regard to a full interpretation of prayer, the communication model, which led to the typology of prayer, advances our understanding by a detailed and nuanced articulation of various effects that prayer seeks to have on the deity. While we are all familiar with the purpose of petitionary prayer, we found the typology of prayer particularly helpful in identifying self-focused, heuristic and informational prayers.<br /><br />Moreover, the model allowed for a nuanced reading and understanding of other forms of worship, which in the model describe the communication of the deity with worshipers. But the complete model of communication describes worship, not just that of mortals to God but also of God to mortals. Thus we were able both to surface data according to the forms of group-speech known from early Christianity and to appreciate how they link together as God's speech to the group. If the sub-forms were studied individually, we would not know their relationship to other parts of John 1417. The model gives insight into the parts and the whole.<br /><br />In examining the issue of "where" the Johannine group worshiped, we were greatly aided by employing the model of fixed vs fluid sacred space. Fluid sacred space, unlike fixed space as found in temples, does not embody the system of temple personnel such as we find in Jerusalem's temple. Thus we can go further than the standard rejections of Mts. Gerizim and Zion and the traditional affirmations of "spirit and truth." The model of fluid sacred space urges us to examine how both the person of Jesus and the persons of the group become the sacred space. Jesus does not take his disciples out of the world, even though he has prepared a place for them. The key element in understanding the "where" of worship for the Johannine group is our appreciation of how Jesus as the ascended Lord continues to offer christophanies to the group, especially by revealing the sacred name "I AM" to them. In short, God draws near to the group through Jesus, especially through the shrine of the sacred name; and the disciples are drawn near through Jesus, especially as the heavenly figure who maintains his presence on earth. Thus we look to relationships as the "where" of worship.<br /><br />We addressed the issue of the roles that constitute the relationship just described. The model of patron-broker-client, known from both ancient authors and modern anthropologists, seems particularly applicable to worship as we find it described in John 14-17. Broker is the preferred role in which the author of the Fourth Gospel as well as other New Testament authors understand how Jesus relates to God and to the disciples. In particular, it provides a full and apt interpretation of Jesus' communication in John 14-17: all of the client's petitions to the heavenly Patron are made "in my name," just as the Patron's "words" and "commands" all come through Jesus to the disciples. Whether "broker," "mediator," or "priest," we have both a social and functional understanding of Jesus' role in the verbal worship of the Johannine group.<br /><br />Astute commentators tend to identify one or other of the topics listed above. But interpretation is painfully incomplete unless these data are properly classified as elements of worship. Unless one knows the whole, how can s/he properly recognize the parts? Knowledge of the model of worship surfaces data that are oftentimes overlooked, and then provides the appropriate scenario for understanding their relationship. A very useful tool, this model.<br /><br />Finally, John 14-17 is normally labeled a "Farewell Address," and with good reason because it contains materials one easily identifies as elements of such an address. But these Johannine chapters are surprisingly found to contain materials obviously related to worship and prayer which do not comfortably fit the model of a farewell address. When one adds to discussions of worship both a communications model and the notion of fluid vs sacred space, then most of the material in John 14-17 can be seen to be part of a large discourse on worship in the Fourth Gospel. A familiar text is thus freshly interpreted precisely because new models of reading and interpretation suggest new data. Are the two models in opposition? No, each can explain data not covered by the other. Both seem to be productive ways of reading.<br /><br />Further Questions<br /><br />Because we have focused on John 14-17, our investigation of worship may suffer in two ways. First, how are we to interpret pilgrimage feasts to Jerusalem? How do we understand baptism (3:22-26) and eating the bread of life (6:32-56)? As Aune earlier stated (973), worship consists of "various types of rituals experiencing., a Christians gathered to eat together, to baptize new members, to experience healing." The very presence of the foot washing in 13:12-17 suggests a ceremonial welcome of group members by its officials. Is this part of group worship? The details of a purificatory ritual described in 20.'23 are absent, although Jesus authorizes those on whom he breathed to "forgive" and "retain" sins. What, then, still needs to identified and interpreted? Second, the more forms of worship that are identified, the more need we have of a consideration of roles and statuses within the group. How might the patron-broker-client model assist us in interpreting other rituals and other forms of worship? Third, if we have focused only on John 14-17, then are there other data in the Gospel about various forms worship and various aspects of it (time, place, ritual)? We claimed to find most of the elements of worship described by those who make surveys of what constitutes early Christian worship. What, however, have we not found in John 14-177 Finally, the worship models exposed here can only benefit from their application to other worship materials in the New Testament.<br /><br />Works Cited<br /><br />Aune, David E. 1992. Worship, Early Christian. Pp. 973-89 in ANCHOR BIBLE DICTIONARY, vol. 6.<br /><br />Boissevain, Jeremy 1974. FRIENDS OF FRIENDS: NETWORKS, MANIPULATORS AND COALITIONS. Oxford, UK: Blackwell.<br /><br />Borgen, Peder. 1986. God's Agent in the Fourth Gospel. Pp. 67-78 in THE INTERPRETATION OF JOHN (Issues in Religion and Theology, 9), edited by John Ashton, Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press/London: SPCK: 67-78.<br /><br />Brown, Tricia Gates. 2003. SPIRIT IN THE JOHANNINE WRITINGS:: JOHANNINE PNEUMATOLOGY IN SOCIAL-SCIENCE PERSPECTIVE. London, UK: T & T Clark International.<br /><br />Burge, Gary M. 1987. THE ANOINTED COMMUNITY. THE HOLY SPIRIT IN THE JOHANNINE TRADITON. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.<br /><br />Danker, Frederick W. 1982. BENEFACTOR. EPIGRAPHICAL STUDY OF A GRAECO-ROMAN AND NEW TESTAMENT SEMANTIC FIELD. St. Louis MO: Clayton Publishing House.<br /><br />Dodd, C. H. 1968. THE INTERPRETATION OF THE FOURTH GOSPEL. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.<br /><br />Elliott, John H. 1996 Patronage and Clientage. Pp. 144-58 in THE SOCIAL SCIENCES AND NEW TESTAMENT INTERPRETATION. edited by Richard L. Rohrbaugh. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson.<br /><br />Franck, Eskil. 1985. REVELATION TAUGHT. THE PARACLETE IN THE GOSPEL OF JOHN. Lund, Sweden: Wallin & Dahlohm.<br /><br />Grayston, Kenneth 1981. The Meaning of PARAKLEITOS, JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT 13: 67-82.<br /><br />Malina, Bruce J. 1988. Patron and Client: The Analogy Behind Synoptic Theology. Pp. 143-75 in his THE SOCIAL WORLD OF JESUS AND THE GOSPELS. London, UK: Routledge.<br /><br />1986. CHRISTIAN ORIGINS AND CULTRAL ANTHROPOLOGY. PRCTICAL MODELS FOR BIBLICAL INTERPRETATION. Atlanta, GA: John Knox.<br /><br />Malina Bruce J., & Richard L. Rohrbaugh. 1998. SOCIAL-SCIENTIFIC COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPEL OF JOHN. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress.<br /><br />Martyn, J. Louis 1979. HISTORY AND THEOLOGY 1N THE FOURTH GOSPEL. Revised ed. Nashville, TN: Abingdon.<br /><br />McCaffery, James 1988. THE HOUSE WITH MANY ROOMS. THE TEMPLE THEME OF JN. 14,2-3. Rome, Italy: Pontifical Biblical Institute.<br /><br />Mott, Stephen Charles 1975. The Power of Giving and Receiving: Reciprocity in Hellenistic Benevolence. Pp. (30-72 in CURRENT ISSUES IN BIBLICAL AND PATRISTIC INTERPRETATION. edited by Gerald Hawthorne. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.<br /><br />Oepke, A. 1967. Mesites. THEOLOGICAL DICTIONARY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT 4. 598-624.<br /><br />Piper, Ronald A. 2001. Glory, Honor and Patronage in the Fourth Gospel: Understanding the Doxa Given to the Disciples in John 17. Pp. 281-309 in SOCIAL SCIENTIFIC MODELS FOR INTERPRETING THE BIBLE. ESSAYS BY THE CONTEXT GROUP IN HONOR OF BRUCE J. MALINA, edited by John J. Pilch. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill.<br /><br />Sack, RoBert D. 1986. HUMAN TERRITORIALITY. ITS THEORY AND HISTORY. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.<br /><br />Saller, Richard P. 1982. PERSONAL PATRONAGE UNDER THE EARLY EMPIRE. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.<br /><br />Swanson, Tod D. 1994. To Prepare a Place. Johannine Christianity and the Collapse of Ethnic Territory. JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN ACADEMY OF RELIGION 62:248--51.<br /><br />Wallace-Hadrill, Andrew (ed.). 1989. PATRONAGE IN ANCIENT SOCIETY. London, UK: Routledge.<br /><br />Jerome H. Neyrey, Ph.D. (Yale University) is professor of New Testament Studies at the University of Notre Dame (neyrey.1@nd.edu). His most recent book is a study on God: Render to God by Fortress. He is the author of sixteen articles on the Fourth Gospel and one book; and he has authored a socio-rhetorical commentary on John for the Cambridge University Press which will appear shortly. He is currently finishing a manuscript on prayer and worship for Eerdmans. He is also a member of The Context Group, which studies the Scripture in its social and cultural context.<br /><br />Category 14:26 15:26<br /><br />Title or Name 1. Paraclete 1. Paraclete<br /><br /> 2. Holy Spirit 2. Spirit of Truth<br /><br />Source & Relationship whom the Father will whom I shall send to<br />to Father and Jesus send in my name you from the Father<br /> ... who proceeds<br /> from the Father<br /><br />Functions 1. he will teach you 1. --<br /> all things<br /><br /> 2. bring to your 2. he will bear<br /> remembrance all witness to me<br /> that I have said<br /> to you<br /><br />Category 16:7-10, 12<br /><br />Title or Name 1. 16:7 Paraclete<br /><br /> 2. 16.12 Spirit of Truth<br /><br />Source & Relationship 16:7 I will send him to you<br />to Father and Jesus<br /><br />Functions 1. he will guide you into all<br /> the truth ... he will declare<br /> to you the things that are<br /> to come.<br /><br /> 2. he does not speak on<br /> his own authority ... he will<br /> glorify me, for he will take<br /> what is mine and declare it<br /> to you.<br /><br /> 3. he will convince the world<br /> of sin: righteousness, and<br /> judgment<br /><br /> FIXED: Temple FLUID: Group<br /><br />1. topological, actual space 1. place where the group meets<br /><br />2. place perduring over time 2. space of opportunistic,<br /> occasional group meetings<br /><br />3. major mode of worship: 3. major mode of worship: verbal<br />sacrifice forms<br /><br />4. focus on altar 4. focus on sacred writings<br /><br />5. hierarchical arrangement of 5. significant individuals whose<br />persons by birth competency is based on spirit<br /> giftedness or closeness to the<br /> group's hero<br /><br />The Father knows the Son The Son is in the Father<br /> (x.15) (xiv.10-11I 29, xvii.21)<br /><br />The Son knows the Father (x.15) The Father is in the Son<br /> (xiv.10-11; xvii.21, 23)<br /><br />The Son knows men (x.14) Men are in the Son (xiv.20;<br /> xvii.21)<br /><br />Men know the Son (x. 14) The Son is in the men (xiv.20;<br /> xvii.23, 26)<br /><br />Men know (see) Father and Son Men are in the Father and the<br /> (xiv.7-8) Son (xvii.21)<br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-12921084211103033062007-07-06T20:04:00.000-07:002007-07-06T20:06:53.560-07:00An overlooked message: the critique of kings and affirmation of equality in the primeval history<img src="http://www.faculty.fairfield.edu/jmac/meso/mi2ham.GIF"/><br /><br /><br />An overlooked message: the critique of kings and affirmation of equality in the primeval history<br /><br />Robert K. Gnuse<br />Abstract<br /><br />The Primeval History in Genesis 2-11 contains symbolic polyvalent narratives with diverse levels of interpretive possibility. One meaningful level of interpretation is to see how the accounts contain a strident critique of kingship, especially the social economic abuses perpetrated by kings. Kings who receive the strident barbs of the author include not only Mesopotamian rulers, but also, by implication, the rulers of Israel and Judah, who likewise abused their powers. This exilic critique of kings is also, in turn, part of the great biblical message affirming human equality and dignity, and it speaks a powerful egalitarian word to any age.<br /><br />**********<br /><br />World history textbooks often allude to John Ball as one of the key leaders in the famous English Peasants' Revolt of 1381, but too often the rest of the rather dramatic story is not told. John Ball had been trained in Hebrew at Oxford University; so as he read the sacred text in the original tongue, he observed meanings and messages in the Bible that other preachers, theologians, and great leaders of the church did not see or ignored. In Genesis I he discerned that God had made "man" in his image, and then made "man" into male and female, which implied for him that men and women were equal, for both were made equally in the image of God. What further impressed him was that this "image of God" elsewhere was attributed to kings. If the man and the woman were portrayed as royal personages in this biblical text, and they were the ancestors of all humanity, perhaps that meant all people were equal and should have equal economic opportunity in a society in which there were no kings or nobility. For twenty years John Ball proclaimed his message in rural villages of northern England, and he eventually went to London to preach. A historian or chronicler of this age reported that he said the following:<br /><br /> My good friends, things cannot go well in England, nor ever<br /> will until everything shall be in common; when there shall be<br /> neither vassal nor Lord and all distinctions leveled, when the<br /> lords shall be no more masters than ourselves. How ill have<br /> they used us? And for what reason do they thus hold us in<br /> bondage? Are we not all descended from the same parents,<br /> Adam and Eve? And what can they show or what reasons<br /> give, why they should be more masters than ourselves? ... But<br /> it is from us and our labor that everything comes with which<br /> they maintain their pomp [Bobrick: 60; N. Cohn: 199].<br />Eventually the country priest inspired the peasants to a revolution against his oppressive government. The peasants followed political leaders like Jack Straw and Wat Tyler, who forced king Richard II to negotiate with them. The king promised to end serfdom and the oppressive taxes which inspired many to revolt. But when the peasants, satisfied that their demands were met, dispersed to their homes, the king reneged on his promises and declared, "serfs you were, and serfs you will remain." The leaders of the uprising, including the young priest, were executed eventually, and the revolution failed (Bobrick: 59-62; Dunn: 59-62, 140). Had Ball lived four hundred years later and a continent away, he would be remembered as one of our great founding fathers, for his message was no different than that of the spokespersons for the American Revolution.<br /><br />John Ball in 1381 read and perceived the implications of Genesis 1 concerning the man and the woman being made in the image of God. Why did not more clergy discover this message in the Bible, and why did it take almost two thousand years for democracy to emerge in a Christian culture that supposedly used the Bible as its primary source for theology, ethics, worship, and Christian faith? Why do not all Christians today see this message of universal human equality and the concomitant concept of the equality of men and women? Is it because we quote the Bible, but do not really read it? Though scholars comment upon it in learned commentaries and scholarly articles, this message has not yet infiltrated half of the churches in Christendom.<br /><br />Throughout the Bible one can find an overall message of human dignity and equality before God. Though there be passages which admit the existence of the institutions of slavery and kingship, that acknowledge that in life there are distinctions between people on the basis of class, wealth, and sex, one senses that the texts speak of these matters in a mode of discourse which is concessive, that is, they are part of a world order that may someday be no more. For too long the institutional Church has allowed the concessive mode of discourse to become the normative mode of discourse for human society, and social realities which were to be changed by the people of God were ironically reinforced by the institutional churches.<br /><br />We could review the entire biblical tradition to explicate those passages which speak of human dignity and equality or the imperative to move in such directions, but that would be an expansive work, hopefully to be undertaken by this author in the future. This brief essay seeks to focus upon the Primeval History in Genesis I-11, for seldom do biblical scholars and theologians turn to these texts for inspiration for social reform. These contain passages that too often have been used consciously and unconsciously over the years to legitimate oppression and subordination of certain people, especially women. I would maintain that within these passages there are clarion statements of human equality and that a subtle critique of the institution of kingship pervades many of the themes in these narrative accounts. Biblical scholars have focused upon these themes in scholarly discussion, though often in a tangential way, as they sought to elucidate other topics. Feminist scholars have been especially adroit at unveiling the egalitarian images as they pertain to women. But I believe there are more pervasive egalitarian themes, and anti-royal themes, which by implication are also egalitarian, to be found within these texts.<br /><br />Kings and the Bible<br /><br />In his rather thorough and recent analysis of the ideology and social world of kingship in Amorite Babylon, Homeric Greece (whenever that really existed), and ancient Israel, Dale Launderville demonstrates rather well that the institution of kingship was a cultural, social, economic, political, and religious symbol by which societies were unified. Kings held their world together, in part, because of the rhetoric they generated and the economic and political success they could accomplish. They portrayed their rule as sanctioned by the king of the gods, and they helped to mediate the will of the gods to their people, as well as direct the economy, administer the law, and defend the country or city from foreign enemies. Nonetheless, critique of kingship would occur when kings failed to bring order, basic justice, and prosperity to their society (Launderville). The critique of kings, especially by the prophets and the Deuteronomistic Historians in ancient Israel, was the most strident we can find in the ancient world, and modern biblical scholars and theologians would recognize that. What we might not sense is how pervasive that critique could be throughout the biblical text. Even the portrayal of the ideal king or messiah who would come someday is still a criticism of the existing institution of kingship in that age. For it bespeaks a king who will accomplish what living kings do not chose to achieve or simply cannot achieve. Ultimately, Christians connect the image of the messiah with Jesus, who clearly stands in opposition to the institutional kings of this world. The Bible as a whole contains much anti-kingship rhetoric and is concomitantly egalitarian in its overall message. It is from this biblical text, in part, that democratic ideals arose. And, it is no coincidence that when the English cut off the head of a ruling monarch in the 17th century, they did so while quoting biblical texts (Bobrick: 278-84).<br /><br />In the Primeval History of Genesis 1-11 there are hints of anti-royal fervor and the radical equality of people. Biblical scholars have noted these passages, and theologians have observed some of these themes in theologies of liberation and related theologies, but I believe we have not given these themes the prominence they deserve, especially in light of how often these texts have been used in the history of Christendom to justify the oppression of people and to legitimate the structures of society.<br /><br />The Yahwist and the Priestly Editors<br /><br />Genesis 1-11 exemplifies dramatically the symbolic and theological mode by which the biblical authors express themselves. A majority of the narratives in Genesis 2-11 have been isolated and characterized as the "Primeval History" of the First Testament by biblical scholars, where they are perceived as a cycle of tales which arose in either oral or written form from an anonymous author called the Yahwist. However, some recent critical scholars prefer to limit the so-called "Primeval History" to Genesis 1-9, while maintaining that Genesis 10-11 more properly belongs to the Patriarchal Narratives as a pre-history (Batto: 69; Hiebert: 80-82; Loning & Zenger: 100). For the past two centuries these so-called Yahwistic accounts have been isolated from the larger narrative context in Genesis 1-11 by differences in vocabulary, narrative style, and theology. These Yahwistic narratives include the following accounts: the creation of the Adam (generic man), the man and the woman in the garden, Cain and Abel, the flood, Noah and his sons, and the tower of Babel. The non-Yahwistic traditions (usually ascribed to Priestly authors or editors) include accounts of the cosmic creation (Gen 1:1-2:4a), the genealogy of Seth (Gen 5:1-32), portions of the flood narrative that envision the flood as a cosmic event (parts of Gen 6-8), the covenant with Noah (Gen 9:1-15), and minor genealogical information.<br /><br />The priority of the Yahwist tradition (or J) is generally assumed by critical scholars, who subsequently propose that the Priestly Tradition (or P) was either a supplemental addition to J by a post-exilic Priestly editor or perhaps a once separate oral or written tradition ("Die Priesterschrift") woven into J by an editor or author sometimes called R (the redactor or the "Rabbenu" "our master," as some Jewish scholars prefer it). R may be yet another priestly author or editor, and he has been identified on occasion with Ezra. However, in the past generation, some scholars have suggested the priority of P, and they seek to demonstrate how J material was woven into P (Blenkinsopp).<br /><br />Other recent scholars have cast doubt upon the existence of the entire J tradition as a unified source that arose in the pre-exilic era (Van Seters 1975; Schmid; Rendtorff; Rose; Whybray: 43-131). They attribute it to an exilic historian whose efforts later became the prologue to the pre-existing Deuteronomistic History. John Van Seters and Martin Rose still suggest J arose prior to the work of P Editors (Van Seters 1983, 1992, 1994, 1998: 3-49; Rose), but Joseph Blenkinsopp locates this J history after the P redaction (Blenkinsopp), and Erhard Blum believes that J arose in a complex relationship with Deuteronomic material (1984, 1990). But when all is said and done, most contemporary authors and biblical theologians still tend to refer to these texts as J (Hiebert), or at least they call these texts "non-P." Thus, David Carr (1996) believes that the "non-P" author wove loose Yahwistic and Elohistic oral fragments together into a unified work, and no separate organized Yahwist or Elohist existed in a self-contained form.<br /><br />Most biblical theologians distinguish the theology of these respective J and P texts, and they see value in comparing the two theological traditions. A few have argued, however, that the material eventually arose as a unity, even though the author might have used various pre-existing fragments. They say it is best for us to stress the unity of the final text before us when doing biblical theology, rather than the hypothetical sources reconstructed by scholars (Lira). Ultimately, no consensus has emerged about the division or the dating of the J and P materials. Commentators still treat the J texts as related texts which function as the core narrative, and P texts are viewed in a dialectical relationship. For an overall theological assessment, however, it may be best to consider Genesis 1-11 as a unity when possible in order to capture the message that the final redactor wished to communicate.<br /><br />Patterns in the Primeval History<br /><br />Once commentators move beyond the intense discussion of the source and tradition history of the texts, they often provide us with excellent theological interpretations. Commentators have observed the powerful interplay between human sin and divine forgiveness.<br /><br />Two generations ago some scholars delineated a pattern of divine grace, human sin, punishment, intended or received, and divine forgiveness. The pattern would be: Grace--creation of the man and woman and their placement in the garden (Gen 2:4b-24), the birth of sons (Gen 4:1-2), increase of population prior to the flood (Gen 6:1), land fertility after the flood (Gen 9:20-21), and increase of population after the flood (Gen 11:1-2); Sin--rebellion and desire to be like God or the gods (Gen 3:1-19), envy and murder by Cain (Gen 4:3-8), intermarriage with gods and social violence on the earth (Gen 6:2-4), Ham "sees" his father (Gen 9:22), and rebellion and pride of the builders of the tower of Babel (Gen 11:3-4); Punishment--expulsion from the garden (Gen 3:22-24), exile from farmable land (Gen 4:9-14), flood (Gen 6:5-8:19), curse on Canaan (Gen 9:24-25), and dispersal over the earth (Gen 11:5-9); and Forgiveness--clothing, names, and children for the man and the woman (Gen 3:20-21, 4:1-2), mark of Cain (Gen 4:15-16), survival of one family during the flood (Gen 8:1-9:17), blessings for Shem and Japhet (Gen 9:26-27), and the call of Abram after the Babel incident (Gen 12:1-3) (von Rad: 1:!36-65; Fretheim; Gros Louis: 51). Though perhaps not all would agree with this breakdown of the text, most would recognize the dialectical relation of human sin and divine forgiveness in the narratives.<br /><br />More recently in the past generation a number of authors have highlighted the literary and theological parallels between various stories within Genesis 2-11. Often such scholars see the numerous similarities between the narratives about Adam and his descendants over against Noah and his descendants. Some have seen three-way parallels between Adam, Cain, and Noah and their respective descendants. Such motifs include the following.<br /><br />* Both Adam and Noah were primeval ancestors of humanity (Gen 2:7, 9:20).<br /><br />* Adam was created from the ground (Gen 2:7-8), Cain worked the ground (Gen 4:2), and Noah brought relief from the curse on the ground (Gen 5:29) and was removed from the ground by flood.<br /><br />* Animals were in Eden and in the ark "according to their kind."<br /><br />* Animals and people were safe first in a garden and later in an ark.<br /><br />* Adam lived with the animals, Noah was permitted to eat them (Gen 9:2).<br /><br />* Adam ate fruit in the garden (Gen 2:17), Cain produced grain (Gen 4:2), and Noah drank wine from his vineyard (Gen 9:20-21).<br /><br />* Consumption of fruit by Adam and wine by Noah led to trouble for both.<br /><br />* "Eyes were opened" for both Adam and Noah (Gen 3:7, 9:22) and nakedness seen (Gen 3:7, 9:22).<br /><br />* Adam and Eve gained knowledge (Gen 3:7), Cain denied knowledge of his brother (Gen 4:9), and Noah lost knowledge while drunk (Gen 9:21).<br /><br />* After the human sin, God "came down" in Eden and at Babel (Gen 3:8, 11:5).<br /><br />* In Eden (Gen 3:14-19), with the first brothers (Gen 4:11-12), and at Babel there came curses (Gen 9:25-27).<br /><br />* Although Adam and Cain were cursed by God, Canaan was cursed by a human, Noah, which implies the rise of human autonomy and the withdrawal of God.<br /><br />* Adam and Noah were told to increase in population as they respectively left the garden and the ark.<br /><br />* Both ancestors had eponymous children (Gen 4:1-2, 9:18).<br /><br />* Both ancestors had three children, one of whom was cursed.<br /><br />* Their children farmed. (Gen 4:3, 9:20).<br /><br />* Children were divided or fought each other (Gen 4:4-8, 9:21-23).<br /><br />* A curse fell upon one child, a brother (Gen 4:11-12, 9:25-26).<br /><br />* The one cursed was expelled (Gen 4:16, 9:27).<br /><br />* Adam's family gave rise to city culture (through Cain) (Gen 4:17-24), and Noah's family gave rise to national groups (Gen 10).<br /><br />* The first world was destroyed by a flood, the second world was permitted to exist after Babel's sin because God saw that people were naturally sinful (Gen 8:21-22). And finally,<br /><br />* God feared the distinction between human and divine would be blurred (Gen 3:22-24, 11:6).<br /><br />In fact, this divine concern arose three times: God feared "they will be like us" in knowledge and immortality (Gen 3:22), God feared the semi-divine beings (Gen 6:1-4), and God feared "nothing will be impossible for them" (Gen 11:6). So God exiled people from the garden (setting a boundary) (Gen 3:23-24), limited their age to 120 years (setting a temporal limit) (Gen 6:3), and confused their tongues (preventing a united uprising) (Gen 11:7-9). Whereas the second time God destroyed them all with a flood, the third time God tolerated them and allowed them to build separate civilizations. Throughout these accounts God appears to become more distant and people become morally autonomous. Adam and Eve denied their sin before God, Cain accepted that he sinned, and finally Noah took the place of God in the confrontation with Ham and Canaan and uttered the curse in God's place (Gros Louis: 37-52; Sasson: 211-19; R. Cohn: 4-6; Niditch: 11-69; Carr: 234-40). Devora Steinmetz sees a tri-partite division of Adam, Cain, and Noah (Steinmetz), while Richard Elliott Friedman sees the theme of the gradual disappearance of God from these narratives throughout the Pentateuch (7-140).<br /><br />A third approach to understanding the progression of narrative in Genesis 2-11 has been to compare it with the narrative material in the Babylonian account, the Atrahasis Myth, for the plot sequence is quite similar and divergences appear to be an attempt on the part of the biblical author to critique Mesopotamian understandings from the perspective of the biblical worldview. In general, the Atrahasis Myth and Genesis 2-11 share a number of common features, including the following motifs.<br /><br />* People are created from the ground (Gen 2:7).<br /><br />* People are created to till the ground (Gen 2:7-8).<br /><br />* A chance exists for human immortality (Gen 2:9, 3:22-24).<br /><br />* Sexuality and marriage are created (Gen 2:24).<br /><br />* A goddess for a woman is named "mother of life" (Gen 3:20).<br /><br />* People reproduce rapidly.<br /><br />* People rebel against the god(s).<br /><br />* People are killed in Atrahasis or exiled eastward in the Bible (Gen 2:24, 4:10-16).<br /><br />* A flood kills most of humanity.<br /><br />* A hero and his family survives.<br /><br />* Sacrifice pleases the god(s) (Gen 8:20-22). (12) The god(s) accepts the nature of humanity (Gen 8:21). And finally,<br /><br />* People repopulate the world (Gen 9:18-27, 10:1-11:19) (Frymer-Kensky: 147-55, Oden: 210-15; Batto: 51-52).<br /><br />All of these are fine ways to assess the Primeval History, but there are other modes of analysis which may interpret the text in an equally meaningful fashion, for these particular biblical texts are rich with meaning. I would propose that a theme that permeates the narratives is one which critiques the assumptions of kingship and affirms the basic equality of human beings before God and in society.<br /><br />Genesis 1-2<br /><br />The most significant text that speaks of human equality, especially in reaction to the so-called superior status of kings is found in Genesis 1:26-28. In this text God is said to have made both the man and the woman (not just the man, as some people seem to think) in the divine "image" and "likeness" and given them the power to "rule" and have "dominion" over the world.<br /><br /> 26 Then God said, "Let us make humankind in our image,<br /> according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over<br /> the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the<br /> cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every<br /> creeping thing that creeps upon the earth." 27 So God created<br /> humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them;<br /> male and female he created them. 28 God blessed them, and<br /> God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth<br /> and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and<br /> over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves<br /> upon the earth."<br />In the ancient Near East terminology such as the "image" of the god or the "likeness" of the god were metaphors used to characterize the king, especially in Mesopotamia, where the king was the representative of the gods upon the earth. Literally, the terms meant statues, and the implication was that the king was the visible "likeness" of the deity upon the earth. Likewise, the king was said to "rule" or have "dominion" over both the world and his people, as it was given to him by the gods or by the leader of the gods. The powerful implication of this biblical language is that now the man and the woman, who symbolize all of humanity, are said to be kings (and queens). The old concepts are radically democratized by the biblical text, for now all human beings are said to be in the image of God. This is a major shift in ideology, for it moves away from old traditional royal ideologies to a new egalitarian one in which the common people are elevated to the status of the king and given not only royal status but perhaps even the old mythic semi-divine status once accorded to kings. (Such appears to be the implication of Psalm 8, a text related to Genesis 1, which speaks of people being only a little less than God or the gods.) Perhaps such a new reconfiguration became possible in the exilic and post-exilic era for Jewish intellectuals, particularly the priests, once their own institution of kingship had disappeared (Smith 2001: 169-71). This gives tremendous dignity and responsibility to all human beings regardless of social distinction. Their responsibilities entail protection of the land. They are not to struggle with the created order, but they are to struggle to protect the created order. Previously, such was seen to be the task of kings. Now such dignity and responsibility are attributed to all human beings (Vawter: 55-60; Westermann: 151-61; Loning & Zenger: 108-11). Accordingly, the special position of power and privilege held by kings is undercut.<br /><br />This theme is furthered in Genesis 2, where the man and the woman are placed into the garden. The creation of garden was another prerogative of Mesopotamian kings who brought plants and animals from all over their empires and placed them into special royal gardens. The metaphor of the king's garden is applied also to the king's rule over his empire, for the king turns the entire land into his garden by wise rule. In Genesis 2 Yahweh is clearly the king who creates such a garden for divine pleasure, but then Genesis 2 also attributes some ruling function to the man and the woman as representatives of all humanity (Brueggemann; Wyatt: 10-21).<br /><br />The man names the animals and thus engages in an important creative function, even though scholars debate as to the degree to which this makes the man a co-creator with God (Vawter:. 74). His naming of the animals, however, at least signifies his importance in ordering the garden, which makes him appear to perform a function similar to the role of kings as gardeners for the gods. If we take the image from Mesopotamian political mythology, we may metaphor Yahweh as the king, or we may view Yahweh as the high god and the man (and woman) as representing the king on earth.<br /><br />Critical scholarship assumes that the account in Genesis 2 is older than that of Genesis 1. In its original form Genesis 2 may have had the idea of portraying the man, not as a king, but rather as a being who lives in harmonious relationship to Yahweh and works with Yahweh. However, when the later text in Genesis 1 was added by Priestly writers in the Babylonian Exile or beyond, the democratizing of royal epithets in Genesis 1 makes the reader more likely to see the image of the garden in Genesis 2 as a royal park, Yahweh as the king who creates the garden, and the man (and woman) as sharing in those royal attributes of creation and rule, especially in the animal naming process. If the suggestion in the previous paragraph is correct, then Genesis I may lead the reader to view the Scene in Genesis 2 as follows: Eden is the royal garden or the world, Yahweh represents the pantheon of Mesopotamian gods, and the man and the women rule the garden on Yahweh's behalf, functioning like the Mesopotamian king.<br /><br />These are all powerful statements to make in the ancient world where the assumption of the great cultures is that the king (or pharaoh) is either divine, as in Egypt where pharaoh was Horus and the son of Osiris, or a representative of the gods who could be adopted as divine, as in Mesopotamia. Now the biblical text declares that everyman and everywoman are equal to the king, and obviously equal to each other.<br /><br />Genesis 4-11<br /><br />In Genesis 4 Cain goes to the land of Nod, in the east, after killing his brother and receives the mark of protection from God. Often commentators assume that Cain went to the east, that is, the land of the Transjordan, which is east of Israel. But the biblical author may be pointing even further east, to the land of Mesopotamia, where the ancients lived (including those who built the tower of Babel). Mesopotamia would be a good candidate, because there were indeed cities there in the river valley, and the text later speaks of how Cain founded a city. Our biblical author elsewhere hints that the earliest cities were in Mesopotamia or Shinar.<br /><br />If the reference to the east does hint at Mesopotamia and the land of cities, we may observe the sarcasm of the biblical author. The first murderer goes to Mesopotamia, the land that sent forth murderous armies from Assyria and Chaldean Babylon to destroy the people of Israel. Cain "invents" cities, cities which are the source of human pride, greed, and oppression. Perhaps we also sense the biblical author's antipathy toward cities, with their kings and their priests, who rule people in tyrannical fashion. The tyranny of the cities in Mesopotamia is a theme that will return in the story about the tower of Babel.<br /><br />In the ancient Sumerian King List there are a number of heroes who lived before the flood, who lived for thousands of years, and who functioned as kings over the ante-diluvian peoples (Oppenheim: 265-66). The biblical text responds with its own list and ante-diluvian figures, the two lists of the descendents of Cain (Gen 4:17-25) and Seth (Gen 5:1-32). (Interestingly enough both lists contain the same names, perhaps implying that we are the descendents of both the bad Cainites and the good Sethites, which means we are a combination of good and evil.) But for our purposes it should be noted that none of the biblical personages lived more than a 1000 years; only Methuselah came close with 969 years. The point of the biblical author is that these personages died "young" because they were not divine or semi-divine kings, as the Mesopotamians claimed. The youngest of the Mesopotamian heroes died at 36,000 years. Mesopotamian heroes, who were kings, lived so long because they were semi-divine. The subtle undercurrent in the text is that later Mesopotamian kings shared at least in the semi-divine status, even if the longevity were lost. In response, the biblical text declares that the ante-diluvian personages were mortal and died "young." Furthermore, the biblical personages were not kings, but apparently pastoralists. From this perspective the biblical text is undermining the ideology of kingship by denying the royal and semi-divine status of the so-called earliest kings.<br /><br />It appears that the biblical author is making a political and religious statement over against Mesopotamian traditions about the ante-diluvian kings. The Mesopotamians claim that these great personages were kings of semi-divine origin. The ancients often claimed their kings were semi-divine or sons of the high god. This, of course, gave added authority to the power of the king. The biblical author responds by calling this nonsense. Instead, the biblical author maintains that the pre-flood personages were not kings, but simple shepherds. Furthermore, the biblical author gives life spans to these people to show that they were not divine or semi-divine; they were simply humans who lived a long time. None of the biblical figures lived more than 1000 years; Methuselah tried his best, but even he fell short of the magic number. That means none of them were divine. So the biblical author gives the biblical personages "short" life spans to deny their divinity and thereby attacks the concept of divine or semi-divine kings. Hence, when modern readers of the Bible ask why did these people live so long, the answer is that they really lived "short" lives because they were simply mortal, not divine.<br /><br />A person of interest in the list is Enoch, the seventh patriarchal figure, who was said to have walked with God and was taken by God, or translated to heaven. This reminds us of Elijah, who also was taken to heaven alive in a fiery chariot. The usual interpretation is that Enoch was taken alive into the heavenly realm without dying, though there are some references to his death. This assumption into heaven, of course, gave rise to great speculation in the later Jewish tradition, so that by the 2nd century BCE Enoch was envisioned as a great seer and wise sage who was drawn up into the heavenly realm and permitted to see the future. His visions of the future emerge in several writings most of which were drawn together in the book of Enoch (we call it 1 Enoch). Other literature that bears his name also has developed out of a complex set of traditions about this heavenly seer. Enoch is mentioned in documents from Qumran from the 2nd century BCE, including some fragments of 1 Enoch. In the Apocryphal or Deutero-canonical book of Sirach, Enoch's perfection is mentioned (Sir 44:16), and in the Apocryphal or Deutero-canonical Wisdom of Solomon, Enoch is the example of a righteous man in whom the wisdom of the age came to fruition during his youth (even though he died). In the Second Testament Enoch is seen as a man of faith who did not die (Heb 11:5-6).<br /><br />Enoch lived for 365 years before God took him according to Genesis 5:22-24, and that is the number of days in a year. This has prompted modern scholars to compare him to Enmeduranna or Enmeduranki who was listed above in the Sumerian King List. Both personages were seventh in their succession of ante-diluvian heroes. Enmeduranna, the Sumerian, taught divinatory rites by the sun god, and his adviser, Utuabzu (who was seventh on a list of antediluvian sages) was said to have ascended to heaven (Hess: 2:508). This is too much similarity to be a coincidence. Enoch seems to combine characteristics of both Mesopotamia figures.<br /><br />The figure of Enoch spoofs the Mesopotamian king Enmeduranna somehow and for some specific reason. Enmeduranna was a sage king with great wisdom obtained from the sun God; Enoch was a wise sage (at least according to later Jewish literature), who had a prominent place in heaven (also according to later Jewish tradition), but he was not a king. Perhaps this is another critique of kingship. It is likely that there is more biblical critique of Mesopotamian belief involved here, but we have to guess at what it is. (Perhaps, because Israelites had been prone to worship the sun as a deity, and both Israelites and even later Judeans were tempted to equate Yahweh with the sun [Smith, 1990: 115-34; Taylor], this story is meant to criticize sun veneration in some way.)<br /><br />The ending to the biblical account of the flood contains critiques of Mesopotamian kingship. This is true of both the Yahwist ending in Gen 8:21-22, which promises that Yahweh will never destroy the world again, and the Priestly conclusion to the expanded flood narrative in Gen 9:1-17, which reiterates intensely God's promise not to flood the world. The entire biblical account of the flood appears to be a parody on Mesopotamian beliefs in many ways, especially the narratives about Ziusudra, Atrahasis, and Utnapishtim--the various Babylonian Noahs. But these endings critique Mesopotamian kingship in particular ways.<br /><br />First, Mesopotamians engaged in complex religious rites at the New Year Akiti or Akitu festival, led by their priests and the king, to avoid another flood. By these rituals they gave strength to Marduk, the god of Babylon, to defeat the power of chaos, the evil goddess of water, Tiamat, every year and thus avert the destruction of Babylon by floods. The possible re-enactment of this drama, which may have featured the king annually in the role of Marduk, gave tremendous psychological legitimation to the king as the representative of the divine realm. When the biblical narrative declares that a flood will never happen again, it makes the Babylonians and their king look foolish with this superfluous ritual.<br /><br />In the second place, the hero of the flood in one account, Ziusudra, is a king. His reception of the gift of immortality for surviving the flood further adds credibility to the divine status of the king. (Atrahasis and Utnapishtim also receive immortality in their versions of the account.) In the biblical account, however, Noah is not a king, and he receives no immortality after the flood; rather, the blessing of God is for all people--the curse on the ground is removed (Gen 8:21) and people are enabled to eat meat (Gen 9:2-4), as well as promised no more flood. This further debunks the status of primordial heroes who could be seen as ancient kings.<br /><br />The symbolic story of the building of the tower of Babel in Genesis 11 is another anti-royal account. The sin of the tower builders is their desire to storm the heavens and make a name for themselves, which symbolically means that they seek to invade the divine realm and become immortal like the gods. Thus, they would avert the destruction of another flood sent by the gods, or they can avoid being scattered by Yahweh, as the text declares in v 4. Put in other terms, the sin of the builders is tremendous pride, the desire to be like the gods, which in the opinion of biblical authors is the sin of the Mesopotamian kings.<br /><br />Mesopotamian kings considered it one of their chief duties to build temple ziggurats in their cities. Especially great ziggurats were built by Ur-Nammu in Ur (2000 BCE), Hammurabi in Babylon (1750 BCE), and Nebuchadrezzar I in Babylon (1100 BCE). Nabonidns engaged in numerous temple and shrine rebuilding projects in Ur, Babylon, and Harran (550 BCE). Of special interest is the temple ziggurat, the Entemenanki, in Babylon, which was built by the Assyrian king Esarhaddon in the mid-7th century BCE, rebuilt by the Chaldean Babylonian king Nabopollasar in the late 7th century BCE, and refurbished by two Chaldean Babylonian kings, Nebuchadnezzar II and Nabonidus, in the early and mid-6th century BCE. Mesopotamian ziggurats were cosmic mountains that reached to the heavens, and the worshipping individuals--the king and priests--who could build and ascend such mountains--had their authority on this world legitimated by such activity. Of special interest is the activity of Nebuchadnezzar in building a great temple in Babylon, the Etemenanki, for in his royal inscriptions he bragged of how he brought people from all over his empire to work on that building construction (Van Seters 1994: 182-84; Smith-Christopher: 67). Those peoples obviously would have included Judeans exiled after the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BCE.<br /><br />In response to such Mesopotamian imagery and obvious architectural propaganda, the biblical author painted a story of human pride and divine punishment to ridicule such Babylonian pretensions to power and self-proclaimed divinity. Yahweh comes down to the tower, the ziggurat, the cosmic mountain, and scatters the builders by confusing their language. Yahweh comes down to view the tower, not because he lost his bifocals, but because the tower was too small to be seen from the heavens. This is humorous satire by the biblical author on how truly insignificant the so-called great works of the Babylonian kings really were. Nabonidus, in particular, may have been the target of criticism, because at the end of his reign Jews returned home. In later years Nabonidus would be the inspiration for the insane king (Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon) in Daniel 4. In Genesis 11 people scatter to the ends of the earth. In general, the Genesis 11 motif may symbolize the release of captive peoples after the collapse of empires and the end of forced labor at building projects.<br /><br />Thus, the Primeval History contains powerful symbolic narratives that function with many levels of meaning. One of the several important motifs, which run through the narratives, is the critique of kings, and especially the arrogant claims of kings in Mesopotamia.<br /><br />Conclusions<br /><br />I do not seek to reject other interpretations and approaches to Genesis 1-11, but I do believe these texts are polyvalent; that is, they carry many levels of meaning and religious truth. We have plumbed the depths of these texts for years, and we still may find poignant meanings within them. I believe we have not focused sufficiently upon the egalitarian themes: the proclamation of human equality and the repudiation of kingship with all the ideational and social values connection to that institution in the ancient world.<br /><br />The consistent critique of kings throughout these stories may have emerged from the hands of a Yahwist author and/ or Priestly Editor during the Babylonian Exile of the 6th century BCE, when Jews found themselves under the heel of imperial Babylonian rule. John Ball saw that message clearly over 600 years ago; may we see it so clearly today.<br /><br />Works Cited<br /><br />Bat-to, Bernard. 1992. SLAYING THE DRAGON. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox.<br /><br />Blenkinsopp, Joseph. 1992. THE PENTATEUCH. New York, NY: Doubleday.<br /><br />Blum, Erhard. 1984. DIE KOMPOSITION DER VATERGESCHICHTE. Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 57. Neukirchen-Vluyn, Germany: Neuldrchener Verlag. 1990. 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Beihefte zur Zeitschrift fur die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 147. Berlin, Germany: Walter de Gruyter.<br /><br />Rose, Martin. 1981. DEUTERONOMIST AND JAHWIST. Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments 67. Zurich, Switzerland: Theologisches Verlag.<br /><br />Sasson, Jack. 1980. The 'Tower of Babel' as a Clue to the Redactional Structuring of the Primeval History (Gen. 1-11). Pp. 211-19 in THE BIBLE WORLD. Edited by Gary Rendsburg. New York, NY: KTAV.<br /><br />Schmid, Hans Heinrich. 1976. DER SOGENANNTE JAHWIST. Zurich, Switzerland: Theologische Verlag.<br /><br />Smith, Mark. 2001. THE ORIGINS OF BIBLICAL MONOTHEISM: ISRAEL'S POLYTHEISTIC BACKGROUND AND THE UGARITIC TEXTS. Oxford, UK: Oxford University.<br /><br />1990. THE EARLY HISTORY OF GOD: YAHWEH AND THE OTHER DEITIES IN ANCIENT ISRAEL. San Francisco: Harper & Row.<br /><br />Smith-Christopher, Daniel. 2002. A BIBLICAL THEOLOGY OF EXILE. Overtures to Biblical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress.<br /><br />Steinmetz, Devora. 1994. Vineyard, Farm and Garden. JOURNAL OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE 113:193-207.<br /><br />Taylor, Glen. 1993. YAHWEH AND THE SUN. Journal for the Study Of the Old Testament Supplement Series 111. Sheffield, UK: Sheffield.<br /><br />Van Seters, John. 1998. The Pentateuch. Pp. 3-49 in THE HEBREW BIBLE TODAY. Edited by Steven McKenzie and Patrick Graham. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox.<br /><br />1994. THE LIVE OF MOSES. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox.<br /><br />1992. PROLOGUE TO HISTORY. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox.<br /><br />1983. ABRAHAM IN SEARCH OF HISTORY. New Haven, CT: Yale University.<br /><br />1975. ABRAHAM IN HISTORY AND TRADITION. New Haven, CT: Yale University.<br /><br />Vawter, Bruce. 1970. ON GENESIS. Garden City, NY: Doubleday.<br /><br />Westermann, Claus. 1984. GENESIS 1-11. Translated by John Scullion. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg.<br /><br />Whybray, Norman. 1987. THE MAKING OF THE PENTATEUCH. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 53. Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic Press.<br /><br />Wyatt, Nicolas. 1981. Interpreting the Creation and Fall Story in Genesis 2-3. ZEITSCHRIFT FOR DIE ALTTESTAMENTLICHE WISSENSCHAFT 93:10-21.<br /><br />Robert K. Gnuse, Ph.D. (Vanderbilt) is the Chase Bank/James C. Carter, S.J., Distinguished Professor of the Humanities at Loyola University in New Orleans, 6363 St. Charles Avenue, New Orleans, LA 70118 (rkgnuse@loyno.edu). He is the author of twelve books, the most recent of which is THE OLD TESTAMENT AND PROCESS THEOLOGY (St. Louis: Chalice Press, 2001). He has published several articles previously in BTB.<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-10311922476085266332007-07-06T19:58:00.000-07:002007-07-06T20:00:23.503-07:00Your, ours, and mine: Jesus' use of the prophetic possessive in the Gospel of Matthew<img src="http://www.atmajyoti.org/images/biblical_clipart/icon_jesus.jpg"/><br /><br /><br />Your, ours, and mine: Jesus' use of the prophetic possessive in the Gospel of Matthew<br /><br />Robert L. Foster<br />Abstract<br /><br />In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus overwhelmingly prefers to use the term Father in addressing the disciples, which often appears to affirm the special relationship the disciples have with God. In several instances, however, Jesus uses the phrase "my Father," making a distinction between himself and the disciples. The use of this phrase extends over a significant portion of the gospel narrative and has the rhetorical force of pressing the disciples, and the implied readers who come to identify with the disciples, to adopt certain actions and avoid others, lest they lose their honored status in the Jesus-community.<br /><br />**********<br /><br />In 1988 Robert L. Mowery produced an important study of the various terminology used for God in the book of Matthew. Nearly a decade later Mowery followed his initial study with an article in Catholic Biblical Quarterly noting the transition of language in the early part of the Gospel from an emphasis on God as Lord (kyrios) to a vision of God as Father (pater), beginning in the Sermon on the Mount. Mowery makes several enlightening points on the use of the language of God in Matthew, several of which are foundational for this study. First, Jesus does not use the term Father in discussion with either the Pharisees or the devil, but only in discourse with the disciples or disciples/crowds. In fact, Jesus prefers the term Father in addressing the disciples overwhelmingly more so than Lord or God (Father 37x, God 8/9x, Lord 2x; Mowery 1988: 27-28). Second, Jesus is the only character in the Gospel of Matthew to use the term Father, with one exception in 21:9 (Mowery 1988: 33). Third, Jesus identifies God as his own Father through the use of the phrases my Father, my heavenly Father, or my Father in heaven on sixteen occasions (Mowery 1988: 28). Finally, the first occasion of Jesus' use of my Father occurs near the end of the Sermon on the Mount (7:21), though thereafter he usually identifies God as his father (Mowery 1997: 655).<br /><br />Mowery correctly notes that "These references to the Father repeatedly remind the reader of the unique relationship between the Father and the Son" (1997: 655). Yet it is important to recognize nuances within Jesus' use of possessive paternal language in the Gospel after the Sermon on the Mount. For example, on two occasions Jesus uses possessive language in direct address to God, i.e., in prayer (26: 39, 42). That means the remaining fourteen instances occur in direct discourse with the disciples. Of significance for this study is the way that Jesus uses the possessive my Father in addressing the disciples on a number of occasions.<br /><br />Several scholars of the First Testament note that the prophets occasionally use special phrasing to distinguish their relationship to YHWH from their perception of the people's relationship to YHWH. Consequently, on occasion, when a prophet says, "Thus says YHWH my God," the prophet intends to distinguish his relationship to YHWH from the people's relationship to YHWH. The subtle insult here is that the prophets claim a relationship with YHWH that they simultaneously deny to the people. Thus, when Isaiah confronts Ahaz when he refuses to ask for a sign, Isaiah says, "Hear then, O house of David. Is it too little for you to weary men, that you weary my God also" (Isa 7:13). Isaiah's use of my God makes the implication that Ahaz has proven that YHWH is not his god by his unwillingness to listen to the message of YHWH through Isaiah. In Zechariah 11:4, the prophet begins his message to the poor shepherds, "Thus said YHWH my God." The text following (Zech 11:5-17) makes clear that, in fact, YHWH does not want to assert any claim to the shepherds, but instead seeks their destruction. YHWH is not their god. I have chosen to use the phrase "the prophetic possessive" for such usage (I believe that I borrow this phrase from another scholar, but have not found it in the resources I drew upon in this particular study: e.g. Eissfeldt: 9-11; Mason: 139; Meier, Meyers/Meyers: 249).<br /><br />In my analysis of the fourteen remaining instances of Jesus' use of the possessives my Father, my heavenly Father, or my Father in heaven, I believe that nine of these function as prophetic possessives. That is, though Jesus uses the Father-language in discourse with the disciples, this language is nuanced and in many cases Jesus particularly uses this prophetic possessive. Furthermore, the use of the prophetic possessive extends across a significant length of the narrative of the Gospel of Matthew so that it appears to achieve a rhetorical effect through repeated use. The fact that the parallel material in Mark and Luke lacks this possessive form lends some credence to the idea that this language produces a rhetorical effect in the Gospel of Matthew. In this article I aim to investigate the rhetorical effect of the prophetic possessive, how it is achieved, and how this affects our understanding of the Gospel of Matthew and its theology.<br /><br />Challenge--Riposte and Rhetoric<br /><br />David DeSilva observes that the study of honor discourse opens up avenues for understanding rhetoric and especially the rhetoric of the Gospels (34, 66). What we want to see in the use of the prophetic possessive in Matthew is that this reflects an honor/shame discourse that makes demands upon the (implied) reader who is intended to identify with the disciples in the story, so that the demands upon the disciples become demands upon the readers (here following the classical definition of rhetoric by Aristotle in terms of persuasion).<br /><br />Challenge--riposte is a social-scientific description of what happens in a culture of honor because honor is, like any other good, a limited good that requires maintenance and can be lost (Malina: 36). The more familiar challenge--riposte mechanisms of the recent past include the judicial court and the duel (Pitt-Rivers: 27-31). In the Gospels we often see challenge-riposte in the challenges that the religious leaders place before Jesus concerning his interpretation and practice of Torah, as in the series of challenges presented to Jesus at the Temple in Jerusalem recorded in Mark 12. As we notice in Jesus' defense of his honor to the challenge of the religious leaders, honor is a public commodity, something one must defend in the eyes of the larger group (Malina: 33). Thus, Mark reports the crowd's favorable response to Jesus' replies to the religious leaders (12:12, 17, 37). In the Gospels this evaluation actually occurs at two levels, both at the story level in the response of the crowds, but also at the discourse level as the (implied) reader responds to the interaction of the characters within the story (borrowing the useful distinction between story and discourse first introduced by Chatman).<br /><br />Bruce Malina proposes three levels of challenge that one may present to another in a culture that values honor. At the extreme is total dishonor of another that cannot be repaid in any way (murder, adultery, kidnapping). Only slightly less offensive are those extreme affronts to the honor of an individual or an individual's family that nevertheless allow for some form of repayment (e.g. theft, seduction of a virgin). Finally, there are the ordinary interactions that require regular social responses, which, if not met, will bring dishonor to the individual or family (e.g. repaying a gift, marriage between families; Malina: 44-45). The challenges the Pharisees present to Jesus through much of the Gospel of Matthew fall into this final category, though we see early on in Matthew that the Pharisees contemplate the most extreme form of dishonor (12:14, 21:45), which reaches fulfillment in the crucifixion of Jesus (27:32-50).<br /><br />Jesus' challenges to his disciples also fall within the last category of those that require regular social response, though we will see that in Jesus' use of the prophetic possessive, not responding appropriately holds significant consequences. The uniqueness of Jesus' challenges to the disciples in the Gospel of Matthew is that he sets up the discourse in a way that makes the disciples his equals through his use of Father/ son language in the Sermon on the Mount (agreeing with Luz 1989:214 that the Sermon on the Mount serves as a programmatic statement for reading the rest of the Gospel). In normal social interaction in honor-shame cultures, the inferior is not considered to have sufficient honor to resent the affront of a superior (Pitt-Rivers: 31). Rather, the inferior is expected simply to submit to the various abuses of the superior. Only when persons recognize their relative shared status is one in a position either to challenge the honor of another or to be required to respond to a challenge (a superior can often ignore the affront of an inferior, though the superior may choose to punish impudence; Pitt-Rivers: 31). We notice that the Pharisees in the Gospel of Matthew consider Jesus their equal as they often address him simply as "teacher," one competing with them for honor in the perception of the crowds; only the disciples come to recognize Jesus as more than a teacher (for this contrast between the Pharisees' view of Jesus as teacher and the disciples/reader's view of Jesus as more than this see Johnson: 195).<br /><br />Jesus presents the disciples with a challenge as those of equal honor especially through the first major discourse of the Sermon on the Mount. Of course, in the discourse of the Gospel, the implied author presents Jesus as honorable in a number of ways before the implied reader encounters the Sermon on the Mount. DeSilva enumerates the variety of ways that the first four chapters of the Gospel present Jesus as honorable: his birth in the line of Abraham and David, the formulaic citations of Scripture as prophecies of future greatness, Jesus' mediation of God's presence to the people, the new star signaling the birth of a noble ruler confirmed by the adoration of the magi, his deliverance from danger by angelic visions, and his victory in the challenge-ripostes with the devil (40-42). Perhaps most significant for our discussion is the declaration by God at Jesus' baptism of Jesus as his beloved Son (3:17). This acclamation of Jesus' Sonship marks the first of only two interventions of the voice of God in the Gospel, the second of which confirms the original acclamation (17:5).<br /><br />One important thing Jesus does in the Sermon on the Mount, as the mediator of God's presence in the world (1:23), is transfer his honor as God's Son to the disciples. He offers a blessing to those who make peace by noting they will be called sons of God (5:9; I retain the masculine terminology here to emphasize the connection to the earlier acclamation of Jesus as God's "Son"). The good works of the disciples will bring glory to their Father in heaven (5:16). They are to be perfect as their heavenly Father is perfect (5:48). The disciples should perform their acts of righteousness in secret so as not to lose their reward from their Father in heaven (6:1, 4, 6, 18). The prayer Jesus teaches his disciples to pray opens with the address "Our Father" (6:9), though the disciples must recognize that their forgiveness from their Father depends on their forgiving others (6:14-15). They ought not worry about what to eat, drink, or wear, because their Father takes care of the sparrows (6:26) and knows all the disciples' needs (6:32). In fact, they must expect that their Father will give to them when they ask because he is so much greater than their earthly fathers who, despite being evil, know to give their children fish and bread (7:11).<br /><br />It is at the end of this lengthy discourse in which Jesus frequently affirms to the disciples that God is your Father, where Jesus invites them to pray our Father, that Jesus presents his first challenge to the disciples through the use of the prophetic possessive, my Father. The sermon is full of challenge, to be sure. But these challenges assume that the disciples will live up to their calling based on their intimate relationship with God as their Father. In the use of my Father, Jesus challenges their honored position as something they could lose based upon their response to his challenges, a phenomenon which will carry on through much of the Gospel. Jesus' use of the prophetic possessive differs from the prophets' usage in that the prophets indicate no relationship to YHWH. Jesus' use of the prophetic possessive presumes a relationship between the disciples and God, but one that may be lost if the disciples do not respond appropriately to the challenges Jesus puts before them.<br /><br />The Challenge of My Father to the Disciples<br /><br />The first use of the prophetic possessive in Matthew at the end of the Sermon on the Mount apparently intensifies the sermon's demands upon the disciples, noting that to enter the kingdom of the heavens requires entering through the narrow gate that leads to life (7:13). The determination of who enters through this gate is imagined through the metaphor of fruit-bearing; only those who bear fruit will enter the kingdom of the heavens (7:18-20). What perhaps surprises the disciples in the text (though perhaps not the implied reader) is that not all who share the life of the Jesus-community will be friends of the community; instead false prophets will infiltrate the community, strikingly envisioned as devouring wolves (7:15). In this context Jesus utters the warning, "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of the heavens, but only those who do the will of my Father who is in the heavens" (7:21). Some people who do wonders in the community, prophesying and casting out demons, will nevertheless not enter the kingdom of the heavens because they do not do the will of God as taught by the mediator of God's presence to the world--Jesus (7:22-23; see Aune: 222-24 for a discussion of these prophets as Christian).<br /><br />Ulrich Luz is certainly correct to connect vv 21-23 with the preceding section of vv 15-20, especially with prophecy as one of the key activities of those condemned in both sections (vv 15, 22; 1989:439 notes the bracketing of poieo in vv 15-20 and 22; Davies & Allison 1988:693-94 list further connections; cf. Betz: 539). To regard vv 21-23 as an exhortation against self-delusion (Betz: 539) seems a bit off the mark. Rather, the disciples must protect themselves against being deluded by the charismatic, by those who prophesy and cast out demons. The disciples must not be led astray from obedience to the teachings of Jesus (7:24-27) by those with great charismatic gifts, gifts not unlike those of Jesus (e.g., chs. 8-9). Thus, it seems the warning here aligns with the similar warning that occurs later in the Gospel in the so-called apocalyptic discourse (24:11-12, 23-28) of the possibility of being deluded by false prophets at the end.<br /><br />The use of the prophetic possessive here reinforces the possibility of charismatic leaders' infiltrating the Jesus-community and leading the disciples astray. These false prophets, rather than fulfilling the just demands of the Torah as taught by Jesus (5:17-20), instead work lawlessness and so must depart from the kingdom of the heavens (7:23). Logically, those who follow these workers of lawlessness will also engage in works of lawlessness and find themselves in danger of being on the outside looking in. Only those who side with Jesus and do the will of my Father in the heavens (build their house on a solid rock; 7:24-27), will enter the kingdom of the heavens. Betz (548) notes that the my Father separates Jesus sharply from, in Betz's discussion, "the Gentile Christians he rejects." I am simply adding that this also points to the danger such Christians (Gentile or not) present to the disciples and, inferentially, the implied reader. The use of my Father coincides with language that images God as a judge (Betz: 548), whose co-regent, Jesus, passes a condemning sentence that casts the false prophets (and their followers?) out of the kingdom for their rebellious disobedience (7:23; Schweizer: 188 writes that my Father appears in 7:21 "perhaps precisely because in the next verse Jesus appears as judge, as authorized representative of the Father). The challenge Jesus gives to the disciples is not to let themselves fall under the charismatic spell of the false prophets but to keep to the will of the Father as presented by Jesus.<br /><br />We find the next use of the prophetic possessive in the Gospel of Matthew in the second major discourse, issuing a similarly stern warning. As the missionary discourse (chapter 10) heads toward its end, Jesus warns the disciples that, like Jesus, they will find themselves maligned even by members of their own families (10:24-25), shall we say persecuted on account of Jesus (5:11). The disciples must guard against letting the fear of persecution lead them to deny Jesus before their persecutors (10:26-33). Notice that Jesus affirms the disciples at one level by reminding them that even the sparrows cannot fall to the ground apart from your Father's knowledge (10:29). Jesus turns to the use of my Father to state, positively, that those who confess him before their persecutors Jesus will confess before my Father who is in the heavens (10:32). Stated negatively, Jesus warns that those who deny him before their persecutors he will deny before my Father who is in the heavens (10:33).<br /><br />It is interesting, first of all, to note here that Jesus sets before the disciples the possibility that their witness will end in the most extreme form of shame--according to the scale set forth by Malina--death (10:28). Yet, Jesus states that an even greater shame may lie ahead of them if they deny Jesus before their persecutors--to have both body and soul destroyed in Gehenna (10:29). Here we find a figure of God as judge following quite closely upon an image of God as Father who cares even for the sparrows that fall to the ground (Weaver: 109). "Jesus asserts that the same God who is Judge over all humankind is in fact none other than Father to the disciples" (Weaver: 110).<br /><br />Dorothy Jean Weaver points out that the main thrust of the argument in 10:26-33 is that Jesus plays a central role both in regard to the disciples' witness and the judgment of God (111). Jesus truly mediates the presence of God who is both judge and Father. But, in this instance, the use of the prophetic possessive my Father lays emphasis on God as potential judge of the disciples. The challenge that Jesus lays before the disciples involves their willingness to share with him in death in the face of persecution in order to receive the greatest honor: to have Jesus confess them before his Father in the heavens. But if they deny him, they will suffer the greatest shame of having Jesus deny them before his Father in the heavens. Jesus switches his language quickly from your Father to my Father to drive home the point that the disciples must choose right actions (confessing Jesus before their persecutors) in order to maintain their honored status in the Jesus-community.<br /><br />Jesus' use of my Father occurs next in a situation that seems to reaffirm the status of the disciples rather than challenge it. In 11:27 Jesus notes that all those that he has, he received from his Father. This assertion that he receives all from his Father leads to an invitation for those tired from their labors and loaded down by burdens to come and receive his burden which is easy and light (11:28-30). In the next instance of my Father we find another use of the prophetic possessive, though with a slightly different direction. After a series of conflicts with the Pharisees (12:1-14; 22-45), interrupted by Jesus' withdrawal because of their potential threat to him (12:15-21), Jesus receives the report that his mother, brothers, and sisters wish to speak to him (12:46). Jesus stretches out his hand toward his disciples in front of the gathered crowds (12:46) and states boldly, "Behold my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father who is in the heavens, this one is my brother and sister and mother" (12:49b-50).<br /><br />Here the challenge to the disciples is indirect, but again we find an interesting mixture of honor and shame discourse. Jesus honors the disciples as those who are truly his brother, sister, and mother, in a culture that expected the greatest honor to obtain in the family (Malina: 29; Dupont: 108, writes that nobility in ancient Rome did not depend upon the clan or family name but was built up or torn down within the household or family setting). Yet, at the same time, we find a challenge similar to the first use of the prophetic possessive: only those who do the will of my Father maintain their honored status.<br /><br />At the level of discourse it appears that the implied reader should notice the distinction made between the crowds and the basic expectation of disciples through the use of the prophetic possessive. Jack Dean Kinsbury's assessment of the crowds as generally favorably disposed to Jesus yet without faith, seems a bit innocuous (24-25). Rather, here we find, through an awareness of intertextuality, that one of the basic elements that determines future judgment, whether people do the will of my Father who is in the heavens (as mediated by Jesus; 7:21), separates the disciples from everyone else, both the crowds and, as implied by the text, Jesus' family. We may find further contextual support for this hard distinction between the disciples and crowds if we link this to the preceding story that warns of the demonic activity experienced by "this evil generation" (taking my cue from Harrington 1991: 191-92, who notes that this evil generation seems to include all those who do not do the will of the Father). This does not mean that the implied author views "the Jews" as completely outside election and salvation (Barnett). The main target of condemnation in the Gospel is the religious leaders (Foster), with the crowds as an ambiguous group, sometimes on the outside of the Jesus-community, as here, but at others entering the kingdom instead of the religious leaders as in 21:23 (notice these people include prostitutes and sinners). The implication for the implied reader in chapter 12 is that, to maintain their honored status, in contrast with others outside of the Jesus-community, they must continue to do the will of Jesus' Father. Thus, the challenge to the disciples in 7:21 receives affirmation here in 12:50 (for this link between 7:21 and 12:50 see, e.g., Nolland: 519).<br /><br />Several chapters later Jesus presents a direct challenge to the disciples at the story level through the use of the prophetic possessive, though we again find the disciples contrasted with another group, in this case the Pharisees. In an exchange over whether eating with unwashed hands makes an individual unclean (15:1-11), Jesus challenges the Pharisees' use of tradition, calling them hypocrites for upholding their traditions while making void the word of God (15:6). The disciples express some concern over Jesus' exposing his interlocutors to public shame instead of trying to persuade them in what they would consider a more appropriate manner (15:12; Keener: 413). Jesus challenges the disciples to think differently about the Pharisees: they are not plants planted by my Father in heaven and will be uprooted (15:13). Perhaps the implied reader is intended to experience another moment of intertextuality in Jesus' use of the planting/uprooting imagery. Earlier in the Gospel, both John the Baptist and Jesus speak of trees in danger of being uprooted and cast into the fire (3:8-10; 7:15-20). Perhaps the implied reader is intended to fill in the blank here in chapter 15, concluding that those uprooted will be cast into fire, which would once again link the use of my Father to an image of God as judge.<br /><br />The force of "leave them" in 15:14 seems quite strong considering that Jesus labels the Pharisees as blind guides who lead other blind people into a pit (cf. Harrington: 230, who writes that "let them be" asks for "patient tolerance"). Consequently, at the story level, though the statement explicitly condemns the Pharisees as honoring their traditions above God's word and as blind guides leading the blind into a pit, the challenge is aimed at the disciples not to turn to the Pharisees as guides in the interpretation of Torah, lest they show themselves to also be blind and follow the Pharisees into the same pit. The implied reader will note that the disciples find themselves in danger of being deluded not only by those inside the community (7:21) but also by those outside of the community, particularly the Pharisees of formative Judaism (15:14). To maintain their honored status in the Jesus-community requires that the disciples recognize that the key religious leaders of formative Judaism are not planted by my Father in heaven and so not reliable guides in the way of God.<br /><br />Perhaps most interesting of the uses of the prophetic possessives I identify in the Gospel of Matthew occurs in the blessing to Peter in 16:17-19. As is well known, Peter offers the right answer concerning Jesus' identity by confessing Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God (16:16). Jesus blesses him, stating that Peter did not receive this revelation from human beings but from my Father who is in the heavens, promising to build his church upon this petra (16:1718). It appears that this instance of the possessive language is similar to the use in 11:27, given that Jesus begins his address to Peter with "Blessed are you" (Nolland: 666, notes the link between 11:27 and 16:17 in the shared use of revelation and "flesh and blood" language). But, given that the language of my Father has proven negative in three of the four previous occurrences, perhaps this should give us pause to consider whether this is another instance of the use of the prophetic possessive.<br /><br />Jeannine Brown argues that it is common for scholars to view the confession of Peter as a sign that the disciples understood Jesus' identity as Messiah, but the following section (16:21-28) seems to contradict this, so that the disciples at the least do not understand what the Messiah is about (59-60). I argue that part of the problem of determining the tradition history of this text lies just in the seeming contradiction between Jesus' affirmation of Peter and then Peter's quick turn against Jesus' professed purpose, which leads to Jesus calling Peter "Satan" (see Davies & Allison 1991: 653-55 for a brief discussion of the place of vv 21-23 in the pericope). However, perhaps the implied author leaves the implied reader a clue in vv 13-20 that things are not as they seem by including the phrase "my Father." Thus, the statement in verse 17 would not simply represent the source of the revelation (not human but divine), but rather provide some distance between the revelation/revealer and Peter. If we follow the reading argued for by Chrys Caragounis, that the petra here refers to the confession and not Peter (88-113; cf. Davies & Allison 1991: 627), then we see that some distance exists between the content of the revelation/the one revealing the content and Peter. In essence, my Father reinforces this distance, so that the implied reader is not as surprised by the quick turn of events as she might be otherwise (perhaps further reinforced by Jesus' stating that he will build my ekklesia on this petra?).<br /><br />As a result, the challenge here seems to lie at the discourse level. The implied author envisions Peter here as a new Abraham establishing a new people of God based on the revelation he receives (Davies & Allison 1991: 623-24). However, even Peter did not fully understand the destiny of this Messiah Jesus, much as Abraham did not seem to understand fully the blessing he received from God (note that immediately after the call and blessing of Abraham, he enters into Egypt where he promptly lies about Sarah and hands her over to Pharaoh out of fear for his own life; Gen 12:10-20!). The implied reader must not make the mistake of misunderstanding the Messianic mission of Jesus, which led to his death and not the restoration of Israel, lest she be shamed by taking the side of Satan instead of God.<br /><br />A series of three instances of my Father occurs in the discourse of chapter 18, which has to do with life in the ekklesia, especially regarding sin and forgiveness. The first major section of the chapter involves a discussion of the "little ones" and the need to guard against causing them to stumble or be tempted to sin (18:5-14). The language of this chapter is thick with images of judgment: being drowned in the sea is better than causing a little one to stumble (18:6); one should cut off a hand or gouge out an eye rather than be thrown into the fires of Gehenna (18:8-9). I would agree with Luz that this latter statement is aimed at the little ones, warning them not to have contact with persons who would want to destroy their faith (Luz 2001: 435).<br /><br />In this context of judgment Jesus offers the initial prophetic possessive in this chapter, "See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in the heavens always see the face of my Father who is in the heavens" (18:10). Again, within the Jesus-community reside those who, at least potentially, look down on others, whether for their inferior social status or their status in the church (Luz 2001: 440). Those who despise such little ones do not understand the honored status of these little ones: not only do their angels continually see the face of my Father, but the Father, like a shepherd, rejoices over the one found more than the ninety-nine who did not go astray (18:12-13). Thus, verse 10b stands both as a word of comfort to those who seem little, despised in the community, and a warning for those in the Jesus-community who despise such persons (Luz 2001: 441). The challenge that Jesus places before the disciples is not to despise the little ones and so lead them into temptation lest they find themselves opposed to the will of the Father (18:14; the textual variant is quite appealing here as it also reads my Father), in which case they might as well tie a millstone around their necks and drown themselves in the sea.<br /><br />The next section in this discourse deals particularly with what to do when a member of the Jesus-community is caught in sin (18:15-20). Here the emphasis seems to be on making every effort to forgive that person and restore him/her to the community, especially given the following parable (18:21-35; we should, at the same time, note that the reference to the gathering of "two or three" in 18:20 resembles the law in the First Testament stating that a person may be put to death only on the word of "two or three witnesses" Deut 17:6). Yet, here we find a mix of both hope for restoration of the individual and potential judgment, so that the binding and loosing are both validated by my Father who is in the heavens (18:19). Given that previous instances of the use of my Father often occur in texts of judgment, perhaps the implied author uses this expression here because the double-edged nature of the comment includes potential judgment. Thus, at least for some members of the community, God will serve, not as their Father but their judge. As Brown notes (73), the thrust of the section 18:1-20 gives some indication of Jesus' concern that the disciples have not understood the nature of discipleship. I would add that, as a consequence, Jesus presents them a challenge to respond to by not despising others in the community, which could lead little ones to sin, and to exercise appropriate discipline in the community, which for some will entail judgment. In both cases there are some in the community who stand in danger of being shamed in the courtroom of God rather than continue to abide in their honored status as the children of God.<br /><br />The final instance of the use of the prophetic possessive in the discourse of Matthew 18 occurs at the end of the parable of the unforgiving servant who inexplicably will not forgive a paltry sum to a fellow servant after being forgiven an unimaginable amount of debt by the king (18:23-34; Keener: 458-59 writes, "This fact starkly reveals the laughably hyperbolic character of the illustration: the poor man owes the king more money than existed in circulation in the whole country at the time!"). Not unexpectedly, the story ends with an image of judgment: the servant who at first received mind-blowing mercy must now go to jail until he can repay his unrepayable debt! To this Jesus adds the sobering comment, "So also will my Father in the heavens do to you unless you forgive, each one their brother or sister, from the heart" (18:35).<br /><br />Interestingly, the parable does not focus on the king, but rather upon the servant and the servant's reaction to the experience of being forgiven so great a debt (Keesmaat: 268-69). But, the servant obviously did not learn the lesson that living in this kingdom, which offers release from exorbitant debt, requires the same in kind to others (Keesmaat: 269). So, too, the challenge presented by Jesus to Peter (and the rest of the disciples?) is to not fall into a place of dishonor by failing to live up to the standards set by the Father, who forgives extravagantly. The Jesus-community emphasizes forgiveness, not only of my sin, but especially of those who sin against me. Living an unforgiving life once again puts one in danger of losing one's honored status as a child of the Father and instead finding oneself under the judgment of God.<br /><br />Matthew 20:20-28 contains the last instance of the use of the prophetic possessive in the Gospel. Here the mother of the sons of Zebedee approaches Jesus to ask for John and James to sit at Jesus' right and left in the kingdom (20:20-21). Jesus tells them that they do not understand the nature of their request. Not only do they not understand what it means to partake in the same cup as Jesus, they do not understand that only my Father determines who will hold what place in the kingdom (20:22-23). The other disciples become indignant upon hearing this request, which prompts Jesus to remind them of the proper order in this kingdom: the first in this kingdom are servants, just as the Son of man did not come to be served but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many (20:24-28).<br /><br />Here we do not find explicit reference to the danger of judgment but, as in chapter 18, the problem Jesus addresses has to do with the misalignment between the disciples' understanding of the kingdom and that of Jesus (Carter: 171 writes, "... in the context of the mother's question in 20.20, such elevation to greatness and to being first will come only in the judgment for those who have been slaves and servants in the present." It is tempting to follow Carter's lead here, but I do not see any indication of a time of judgment in this text but only of an unspecified future). Jesus' kingdom is not like the kingdoms of this world ("the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over [their subjects]"--20:25). Rather, this kingdom reverses normal expectations. Jesus' challenge to the disciples again has to do with seeking proper honor and avoiding shame. Those who act as servants receive the greatest honor; those who seek the greatest honor experience the greatest shame.<br /><br />Conclusions<br /><br />Part of the rhetorical effect of the use of the phrase "my Father" in the Gospel of Matthew is that it reinforces the picture of the disciples as not fully understanding the nature of Jesus, the kingdom, or the Jesus-community. In other words, Brown's major thesis, in her The Disciples in Narrative Perspective, that the disciples are not so quick to understand as scholars often portray them because of comparisons with the characterization of the disciples in Mark, gains further support through careful investigation of the Father-language in Matthew (29-34). This proves of especial interest considering that Brown's work focuses on the narrative between 16:21 and 20:28, while six of the nine occurrences of the prophetic possessive discussed above fall within chapters 15 and 20, so that perhaps one of the main functions of chapters 15-20 is this exposition of the disciples' misunderstandings.<br /><br />One thing I find significant is the fact that in several cases of the use of the prophetic possessive, the narrative does not show an immediate response by the disciples, especially at the end of the three major discourses in chapters 5-7, 10, and 18. Furthermore, Jesus' use of the prophetic possessive ends immediately before his entrance into Jerusalem in chapter 21, which is followed by the narrative of his demise. It is in the narrative of Jesus' passion that we find at the story level the response of the disciples to the challenge in chapter 10 not to deny Jesus in the face of persecution. In their first chance to respond to Jesus' challenge the disciples abandon, deny, and betray Jesus. The disciples' misunderstanding of, especially, the nature of Jesus as Messiah and the nature of the kingdom, leads to the disciples' shame in the eyes of the implied readers who see all the disciples denying Jesus in some way during Jesus' passion.<br /><br />However, the Gospel does not end with the crucifixion or, like Mark, with an ambiguous resurrection story. Rather, Jesus tells the disciples to meet him in Galilee, perhaps giving those shamed a chance for redemption (28:10). Here it is important to highlight the fact that the narrator presents a mixed review of the remaining eleven disciples: "when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted" (28:17). Thus, whether the disciples live up to the challenges Jesus placed before them in the Gospel remains an open question for the narratee, though these same disciples may perhaps restore their honor in responding positively to Jesus' challenges, including the last one given in 28:18-20. Significantly, the commission Jesus gives the disciples includes the instruction: "teaching them to keep all of whatever I commanded you" (28:19). This presumably would include instructions for life in the Jesus-community, which previously the disciples misunderstood.<br /><br />At the level of discourse, the use of the prophetic possessive gives us a fairly clear picture of at least some of the struggles the implied author believes confront the implied reader. The implied reader must guard against false prophets who lead people astray from obedience to Jesus' teaching (7:21 [12:50]). As with the disciples, the implied readers may also deny Jesus in the face of persecution rather than confess Jesus (10:32-33). The Pharisees pose their own threat to the implied reader, who may be tempted to (re-)turn to following the Pharisees' interpretation of Torah, a certain pitfall in the eyes of the implied author (15:13). Several potential misunderstandings threaten the implied readers of the Gospel including misunderstanding the nature of Jesus as Messiah (16:17), the life of the Jesus-community (ekklesia) with regard to sin and forgiveness (18:10, 19, 35), and thinking of life in the Jesus-community as the Gentiles do rather than shaped by the example of Jesus (20:23). Though we are careful not to draw a one-to-one correspondence between these dangers and the life of original real readers of the Gospel of Matthew, these indications of the implied author's concerns certainly give us a vision of what one real author in formative Christianity considered imminent threats to at least one Jesus-community (duly noting here the caution regarding the audience of the Gospels posed by Bauckham et al.).<br /><br />Finally, I think it is right to conclude that the Father-language in the Gospels in a number of instances affirms the honored status of the disciples. Yet, a pregnant irony exists in the use of my Father on a number of occasions. That is, when Jesus uses my Father he often simultaneously infers that his Father will be "your Judge." This seems to me quite an artful maneuver by the implied author to invoke the image of judgment by means of Father-language. I am reminded of the fact that kings of the ancient world were often considered the highest court of appeal in the nation (thus, e.g., Paul's appeal to Caesar recorded in Acts 25:11). The familial language of Father denotes some form of intimacy, yet in the use of the prophetic possessive the implied author creates space that allows this same Father to act as judge in the kingdom of the heavens. Certainly, the kingdom of heaven is present at hand in the Gospel of Matthew (3:2; 4:17) but, to borrow George Eldon Ladd's felicitous terminology, it is "now and not yet" (24-51). In the kingdom being "not yet" the Gospel anticipates a time when it will come in its future and often this is imaged as a time of judgment (e.g. 13:47-50; 25:31-46). Jesus' use of the prophetic possessive in the Gospel of Matthew reinforces this theme of judgment and reminds the implied reader that the same one they pray to as "our Father" may still, in the end, serve as their Judge if they do not respond to the challenge offered by Jesus in the Gospel.<br /><br />Works Cited<br /><br />Aune, David E. 1983. Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans.<br /><br />Barnett, Fred W. 1992. "Exposing the Anti-Jewish Ideology of Matthew's Implied Author: The Characterization of God as Father." Semeia 59: 155-90.<br /><br />Bauckham, Richard. ed. 1998. The Gospels for All Christians: Rethinking the Gospel Audiences. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans.<br /><br />Betz, Hans Dieter. 1995. The Sermon on the Mount, ed. A. Y. Collins. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress.<br /><br />Brown, Jeanine K. 2002. The Disciples in Narrative Perspective. Academia Biblica. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature.<br /><br />Carter, Warren. 1994. Households and Discipleship: A Study of Matthew 19-20. Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplement 103. Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic.<br /><br />Caragounis, Chrys C. 1990. Peter and the Rock. Beihefte zur Zeitsehrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissensehaft 58. Berlin, Germany: Walter de Gruyter.<br /><br />Chatman, Seymour. 1978. Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University. Davies, W. D., & Dale C. Allison. 1991. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew. vol. 2. Edinburgh, UK: T&T Clark.<br /><br />1988. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew. vol. 1. Edinburgh, UK: T&T Clark.<br /><br />DeSilva, David A. 1999. Hope of Glory: Honor Discourse in New Testament Interpretation. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press.<br /><br />DuPont, Florence. 1993. Daily Life in Rome. trans. C. Woodall. Oxford, UK: Blackwell.<br /><br />Eissefeldt, Otto. 1947. "'My God' in the Old Testament." Evangelical Quarterly 19: 7-20.<br /><br />Foster, Robert. 2002. "Why on Earth Use 'Kingdom of Heaven'? Matthew's Terminology Revisited." New Testament Studies 48: 487-99.<br /><br />Harrington, Daniel J. 199 I. Gospel of Matthew. Sacra Pagina. Coilegeville, MN: Liturgical Press.<br /><br />Johnson, Luke Timothy, with the assistance of T. C. Penner. 1999. The Writings of the New Testament. Minneapolis, MN: Fortness.<br /><br />Keener, Craig S. 1999 Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans.<br /><br />Keesmaat, Sylvia C. 2000. "Strange Neighbors and Risky Care. " Pp. 263-85 in The Challenge of Jesus' Parables, ed. R. N. Longenecker. McMaster New Testament Studies. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans.<br /><br />Kingsbury, Jack Dean. 1988. Matthew as Story. 2nd revised & enlarged ed. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Ladd, George Eldon. 1958/1995. The Gospel of the Kingdom. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.<br /><br />Luz, Ulrich. 2001. Matthew 8-20, trans. J. E. Crouch, ed. H. Koester. Minneapolis: Fortress. 1989. Matthew 1-7, trans. W. C. Linss. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress.<br /><br />Malina, Bruce J. 2001. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology. 3rd ed., revised & expanded. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox.<br /><br />Mason, Rex L. 1973. Use of Earlier Biblical Material in Zechariah IX-XIV. PhD Dissertation, University of London.<br /><br />Meier, Samuel A. 1992. Speaking of Speaking: Marking Direct Discourse in the Hebrew Bible. Vetus Testamentum, Supplement 46. Leiden, The Netherlands: E.J. Brill.<br /><br />Meyers, Carol L. & Eric M. Meyers. 1993. Zechariah 9-14. Anchor Bible, vol. 25C. New York, NY: Doubleday.<br /><br />Mowery, Robert L. 1997. "From Lord to Father in Matthew 1-7." Catholic Biblical Quarterly 59: 642-56. 1988. "God, Lord and Father: The Theology of the Gospel of Matthew." Biblical Research 33: 24-36.<br /><br />Nolland, John. 2005. The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary on the Greek Text. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.<br /><br />Pitt-Rivers, Julian. 1966. "Honor and Social Status." Pp. 19-77 in Honour and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society, ed. J. G. Peristiany. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago.<br /><br />Schweizer, Eduard. 1975. Good News according to Matthew, trans. D. E. Green. Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press.<br /><br />Weaver, Dorothy Jean. 1990. Matthew's Missionary Discourse: A Literary-Critical Analysis. Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplement 38. Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic.<br /><br />Robert L. Foster is a PhD candidate at Southern Methodist University. His previous publications include "Why on Earth Use 'Kingdom of Heaven'? Matthew's Terminology Revisited," New Testament Studies 48 (2002): 487-99. Currently he is engaged in writing his dissertation on a biblical theology of justice with particular emphasis on Jeremiah, Matthew, and Romans.<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2007 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2007 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-9516935608929498342007-07-06T19:36:00.000-07:002007-07-06T19:49:56.035-07:00The family in the Jesus movement<img src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y91/timmatkin/HolyFamily--Barberini.jpg"/><br /><br />The family in the Jesus movement<br /><br />Santiago Guijarro<br />Abstract<br /><br />The purpose of this study is to explore the possible continuity between the Jesus movement before Jesus' death and the movement of his disciples after his resurrection in their attitude towards the family. The "anti-familial" sayings of Jesus are studied, together with other gospel traditions which suggest a positive attitude towards family. By placing these sayings in the framework of the mass peasant movement launched by Jesus, we can be more precise about the goals of the disciples within that movement. This research reveals the importance of the Jesus group and of the households that their preaching reached, in explaining the continuity between the pre- and post-Easter periods of the Jesus movement in their attitude towards family.<br /><br />**********<br /><br />One of the most relevant aspects in the history of the beginnings of Christianity that has not yet been sufficiently explained is the evolution that can be observed regarding attitudes toward the family and the household. The documents produced during the first two Christian generations witness to a process that begins with Jesus' apparently anti-familial attitude, continues with the critical acceptance of the family in the first generation (Paul's letters and Mark) and concludes with an enthusiastic acceptance of the household structure in the second generation (Luke-Acts and especially 1 Timothy and Titus).<br /><br />The most problematic aspect of this evolution is the discontinuity that appears to exist between the Jesus movement before his death and that of his disciples after his resurrection. B.J. Malina has explained this discontinuity in terms of a shift from the realm of political religion to that of domestic religion. His explanation is based on his characterization of first-century Mediterranean society according to which religion was not an independent system, as in post-industrial societies, but was embedded in the domestic and the politic domains. According to Malina, the transition of the Jesus movement from one environment to the other explains the different attitude regarding the family and the household in both phases of the movement (Malina 2001: 154-59). Other authors suggest that this change of attitude was due mainly to the necessity of the movement to exist in a society based on the family institution (Aguirre 1998:100-10). Some others, finally, minimize this discontinuity by underscoring the importance that the kinship metaphor had in the deeds and in the sayings of Jesus (Hellermann: 64-72).<br /><br />In the pages to follow I will concentrate on a concrete aspect of this problem. I will try to find out what Jesus' attitude was toward the family and whether Jesus used the kinship metaphor to define the relationships among his disciples. The answer to these questions will be the point of departure to ascertain whether or not continuity exists in this concrete aspect of the Jesus movement.<br /><br />Jesus' Attitude towards the Family<br /><br />A large number of pre-Easter traditions contained in the Gospels suggest that Jesus had a non-familial or even an anti-familial attitude. This attitude is manifested above all in the frequently imposed demand that his closest disciples break ties with their own families (Mark 1:16-18; 19-20 and 10:28-30; Q 12:52.53; 14:26; Q 9:57-58. 59-60). This is an especially significant demand because it is coherent with his own lifestyle which was characterized among other things by the lack of a permanent residence (Q 9:58), by his itinerant existence (Mark 1:14-29), and by his renouncing of marriage (Matt 19:12). This lifestyle presupposes a break with his family, which appears explicitly in some gospel passages (Mark 3:20-21, 31-35; 6:1-6a). These passages about the breaking of family ties have a solid historical foundation and come most probably from the pre-Easter tradition (Guijarro 2001:211-22).<br /><br />There are other traditions, however, in which there is a much more positive evaluation of the family institution. Jesus gives a positive assessment of the duties of sons and daughters toward their elderly parents (Mark 7:6-13) and of marriage (Mark 10:2-12), and he even proposes family relationships as a model that his disciples should follow (Mark 3:31-35; 10:28-30). The Gospels have also preserved the memory of disciples sent to announce the good news of the kingdom to households (Mark 6:10; 10:5-7), and the reports that he and his disciples were taken in by some families (Mark 11:11; 14:3; etc). This positive attitude towards family structures also appears indirectly in the fact that he celebrated Passover with his disciples (Lang: 281; Hellermann: 67). The Passover meal was basically a family celebration, and the fact that Jesus celebrated it with his disciples indicates that the group understood itself according to the model of family relationships.<br /><br />The different approach that appears in these two groups of traditions has posed two questions that are still a topic of discussion among scholars. The first is: Did Jesus have an antifamily attitude or not? And the second: Did he use kinship metaphors when referring to his group of disciples or not? These two questions have to do with the continuity between the pre-Easter phase of the Jesus movement and the post-Easter one. If Jesus did not have an adverse attitude toward the family and if he used kinship metaphors to refer to the group of his disciples, then the continuity between the two phases would be greater than is commonly recognized.<br /><br />The question of Jesus' attitude toward the family has been answered in basically two ways. Some authors think that Jesus did not have an anti-family attitude and explain the imposed demand of his closest disciples to break with their families as a strategy that did not affect the family institution as such. Others, however, think that Jesus directly attacked the family in order to undermine patriarchal ideology.<br /><br />Among the first group is G. Theissen. According to him, in the early Jesus movement there were two types of disciples: the wandering charismatics, from whom Jesus demanded the renunciation of family ties, and the sedentary followers who remained at home and supported the itinerants. This implies that the sayings of Jesus that require his closest disciples to break ties with their own families, and the memory of his own lifestyle without home or family, do not necessarily imply an anti-family attitude, because only a small group of disciples would have been affected. According to Theissen, breaking with the family would be a way of "self-stigmatization" that aimed at the charismatization of Jesus and his closest disciples (Theissen & Merz: 186-90).<br /><br />The second answer to this question can be found in E. Schussler Fiorenza and R. Horsley. Both of them agree that the demand to break with one's own family was addressed, not to a reduced group of disciples, but to all of them. This means that the sayings about breaking away from the family contain a criticism of the patriarchal family (Schussler Fiorenza: 151-54; Horsley: 231-45).<br /><br />The second question that the aforementioned traditions raise has to do with the use of kinship metaphors when referring to the group of disciples, and could be formulated like this: Did Jesus conceive of this group as a surrogate family? A "surrogate family" is a group of people that, not having an actual kinship relation, relate to each other as if they did (Pitt-Rivers: 408-13). This type of fictive kinship was and is very common in traditional Mediterranean societies because of the centrality of the family in them. Because of this the majority of significant relationships follow the model of kinship relations.<br /><br />B. J. Malina, building on the assumption that the preaching of Jesus should be placed in the context of political religion and not in that of domestic religion, believes that Jesus' statements concerning his group of disciples as a surrogate kin-group reflect a post-Easter situation, when the disciples began to adopt the model of the family institution (Malina 1999: 30-32). Other authors, however, maintain that Jesus applied that model to the group of his disciples, although with an important innovation: in the new family formed by them there would be no place for the father, the patriarchal symbol of authority (Mark 3:31-35; 10:28-30; Matt 23:9). The disciples were invited to join a new family of brothers that had God as their only father (Schussler Fiorenza: 151-54; Theissen & Merz: 188-90).<br /><br />The diversity of the responses to the questions that the gospel traditions raise about Jesus' attitude toward the family indicates that a consensus on this topic has not yet been reached. And this is due, in part, to the fact that some of these responses are conditioned by the ideological presuppositions of industrialized Western culture. To advance toward a clarification of this fundamental problem of the beginnings of Christianity, it is necessary to place these traditions in the context of the movement initiated by Jesus, keeping in mind that it had its origins within the framework of First-century Mediterranean society (Malina 2001a; Hanson & Oakman). The lifestyle of Jesus and that of his closest disciples, as well as the relationship that they established with other disciples who remained in their own households, should be understood in this social context.<br /><br />The Jesus Movement before his Death<br /><br />I start with a characterization of the Jesus movement that in my opinion fulfills these characteristics. It has been proposed recently by D. Fiensy (1999). According to him, Jesus was the leader of a peasant mass movement, similar in many aspects to others that arose in the Roman Empire and in Palestine at that time (Fiensy 1999: 10-14).<br /><br />From the viewpoint of the social sciences, a movement is something more lasting than a revolt or an occasional protest and less than an organized party. It is a mass movement when it surpasses the boundaries of the extended family or village. And it is a peasant movement when most of its members come from the peasantry, which in agrarian societies comprises the vast majority of the population (Lenski: 243-48). These movements may have different purposes, but in antiquity they always had a religious component that served to legitimate them (Fiensy 1999: 3-4).<br /><br />One of the most characteristic traits of this type of movement is that its leaders come, not from the peasantry, but rather from a different social class. In general, peasants are reluctant to revolt. They realize that an unstable situation would endanger their existence. Besides, they do not perceive that the roots of their situation lie in the system. Only when their situation becomes unbearable do they join a movement, with the sole purpose of making their situation more tolerable. In those circumstances a leader that comes from the outside, generally from an upper class, provides them two services: he organizes for action and articulates the goals. Artisans, priests, and retainers usually are leaders of this type of movement because their place as intermediaries between the elite and the peasants permits them to be in contact with the great tradition (Fiensy 1999: 6-10).<br /><br />The data that we have about the Jesus movement before his death fits very well with this description. On the one hand, Tacitus (ANN. 15:44), Flavius Josephus (ANT. 18:63) and the four canonical gospels agree that a large crowd from different places followed Jesus. On the other hand, we know that Jesus was not a peasant, but an artisan (Mark 6:3). Unlike peasants, who were closely bound to the earth, artisans had greater mobility, which allowed them to be in contact with elite families to whom they provided services (Fiensy 1997; 1999: 14-20). In fact, as G. Theissen has rightly observed, Jesus' teaching reflects and proposes a series of aristocratic values, most probably as a result of his contact with elite families (Theissen 1989).<br /><br />The situation of Palestine at the time of Jesus was very favorable to the appearance of this type of movement because the urbanization process and the trade economy promoted by the Herodian rulers were having very negative consequences for the peasantry (Guijarro 1997: 43-46). In such a situation, a prophet announcing the imminent intervention of God could easily stir up a movement that would attract a good number of peasants. In fact, we know that the Jesus movement was not the only one that appeared at that time. The Pharisee Gamaliel cites two of them in his speech before the Sanhedrin (Acts 5:36-37), and Flavius Josephus mentions some others (Horsley-Hanson).<br /><br />The success that Jesus' preaching had among the peasant masses that followed him would be very difficult to explain if he had a clearly anti-familial attitude. The family was not only the basis of Israelite society, but also the main source of identity among individuals, so that an attack on the family would be interpreted as an attack on traditional societal values and on the Israelite religion. On the other hand, the family was not the cause of the progressive social degradation under which Herodian Palestine was living, but rather its main victim, and it is very unlikely that Jesus would have intended to contribute even more to the destruction of the traditional family.<br /><br />Jesus' preaching must be placed in a different context. His message clearly belongs to the political religion of Israel. He proclaims and enacts the decisive intervention of God as king and patron of his people. Jesus' preaching does not directly relate to the family, and it would be anachronistic to see in his sayings about the family rupture an explicit attack against it. These sayings and the demands that they imply may be better explained taking into account the type of movement initiated by Jesus, above all when we consider that they were always directed toward his nearest followers, to whom he entrusted a very specific task.<br /><br />Leadership in the Jesus Movement<br /><br />One of the most characteristic traits of the Jesus movement was the composition of the group of disciples that shared leadership functions with Jesus. Jesus called his closest followers for the express purpose of assisting him with the task of announcing the imminent coming of the kingdom of God. This group, symbolically made up of twelve disciples, must be distinguished from the multitudes that followed Jesus and from the individuals who approached him to ask for some blessing or favor. Frequently, the members of this smaller group of disciples functioned as intermediaries between Jesus and the people, and there is a very ancient tradition in which Jesus sends them to announce the same message that he announced.<br /><br />The Gospels do not agree on who belonged to this group of disciples. The Synoptic Gospels assume that it was formed by the Twelve, but the Gospel of John mentions them only once, and grants a greater place to other disciples. On the other hand, among the four lists that name this group of disciples (Mark 3:16-19; Matt 10:2-4; Luke 6:13-16; Acts 1:13), there are remarkable differences. This means that Jesus' closest disciples could have been more than twelve, and it is even possible that the composition of the group varied over time. This, in fact, would have facilitated its reconstruction after Judas' death (Acts 1:15-26). In any case, the institution of the Twelve was well rooted in tradition. It seems evident that Jesus attached a symbolic value to this group relating to Israel.<br /><br />As has been frequently observed, being a disciple of Jesus may be differentiated from other forms of discipleship known in Palestine at that time (Hengel: 16-37; Pesce). The main difference lies in the purpose for which Jesus called his disciples, because it was this purpose that determined the nature and demands of his call, as well as the way of life they assumed and the relationship that they established with him. The fact that Jesus called them to join a group with a concrete purpose is also relevant. Studies about group dynamics show that they may have an external or an internal purpose. Groups that have an external purpose give priority to the task for which they have been gathered, while those that have an internal purpose are more centered on satisfying the needs of members. As a matter of fact these two purposes usually exist simultaneously within all groups, but one of them always prevails over the other and defines the nature of the group.<br /><br />Jesus' disciples were clearly a group with an external purpose oriented to a task (Malina 2001: 152-53). This type is usually an organization at the service of a social movement, and this is precisely what we observe in the group of disciples gathered around Jesus. They were called by him with the purpose of promoting, sustaining and driving the peasant mass movement that awaited the imminent intervention of God as king and patron of his people.<br /><br />Jesus' lifestyle and the demands he imposed on his disciples are significant in this context because many of them came from families that could offer them security, support and identity. In first-century Galilee there were different types of families and not all could offer to their members the same level of support and identity. The five disciples about whom we have some information (Peter, Andrew, James, John, and Levi) did not belong to the lowest class represented by peasant families, but rather to a higher social level. This was surely the case with James and John, whose father owned a boat and hired day laborers, and with Levi, who had a position as a tax collector (Guijarro 1997: 57-61). Their social location was similar to that of Jesus, because their trade allowed them to be in contact with peasants and the upper classes at the same time, so that they met the basic requirements to become leaders of a peasant movement.<br /><br />The renunciation of work was a concrete aspect of the act of breaking with the family, because the family was the primary unit of production. This is a relevant aspect, because before abandoning their work to follow Jesus, these disciples could have been involved in the trade process promoted by the Herodian rulers. A few years ago S. Freyne (110-12) raised some interesting questions about the coincidence of the ministry of Jesus and the emergence of Sephoris and Tiberias, and with them of a new economy. In my opinion, all these aspects are related and reveal the enormous symbolic meaning of the voluntary renunciation of the family.<br /><br />This existential option of Jesus and his disciples is significant also in the context of the situation of the peasant masses that were suffering the consequences of the policies carried out by the Herodians rulers. These policies, supported by landowners, merchants, and retainers who benefited from them, had dramatic consequences for the peasant families. The most important one was the loss of land, which inexorably passed on to the hands of a few (Fiensy 1991: 75-132; Freyne 105-12). Now, land was the basic support of the traditional family, so that the loss of land had as a consequence the disintegration of peasant families. Without land and without family support, individuals had to work as slaves for the landowners, joined the growing ranks of resistance groups, or increased the numbers of city beggars.<br /><br />For what purpose would Jesus have asked his disciples to break their family ties when many peasants were being forced to do this? Could it be a strategy of identification through which the leaders of the movement, including Jesus, took on themselves the vital situation of those they led? In peasant mass movements leaders gain credibility in the measure they assume the lifestyle conditions of the peasantry, and given the centrality of the family in that society, the disintegration of the family would be the trait that best defined the situation in which they were living.<br /><br />The breaking of family ties, which seems to have characterized the lifestyle of Jesus and his closest disciples, acquires a very precise meaning in this context. Its purpose was not to criticize patriarchal structures, nor to propose an ascetic model; neither was it the result of well timed conflicts, nor a manner of self-stigmatization toward a later charismatization, but rather a prophetic action coherent with the image of a God who is beside the poor and needy and accompanies those who are victims of injustice.<br /><br />Breaking with the family was, therefore, a condition that Jesus imposed on those he invited to share with him the leadership of the movement he was launching with his preaching and ministry. In Jesus' time that attitude had consequences which are difficult to imagine today, since the family played an important role in the life of individuals. In that society, for example, poverty meant the lack of family support, and not, as among us today, the lack of economic resources (Malina 1987). Detached from their families, the disciples became true beggars (ptochoi) and assumed an uprooted and wandering lifestyle that made them credible to peasants that lived in a similar situation. The Beatitudes and other teachings in which Jesus exhorts his disciples to put all their trust in God have a special meaning in this context (Neyrey).<br /><br />It is interesting to observe that all these teachings refer to God as a father who looks after his children and gives them what they need. This familial metaphor is especially frequent in Jesus' instructions to the disciples, while the image of God as king is predominant in Jesus' teaching to the multitudes (Mark 1:15; 4:26-32). The imitatio patris (imitation of the father) is one of the main motivations of Jesus' behavior and inspires some of his teachings to his closest disciples. They are invited to behave as children of God: they should put all their confidence in him and expect everything from him (Guijarro 2000: 61-62). This means that the disciples could find in their relationship with God what they have given up by detaching themselves from their own families.<br /><br />Together with these instructions referring to the disciples' relationship with God, we find others that refer to the relationships of the disciples among themselves. In them, Jesus rejects the attitudes that characterize interaction with outsiders (competitiveness, searching for honor and power, etc.) and proposes as a model reciprocal solidarity, which is the most characteristic trait of the relationships within the kin-group (service to others, plating oneself in the last place, etc.). The second and third Passion predictions contain this kind of teaching (Mark 9:35; 10: 43-45). In Mark these instructions are addressed to the community leaders, but the sayings of Jesus contained in them reflect an instruction centered on reciprocal solidarity, which is characteristic of kinship relationships.<br /><br />These teachings about the relationship of the disciples among themselves and with God reveal that Jesus configured the group of his closest disciples according to the model of the family. He formed with them a surrogate family, in which they could find support, protection and identity. The gospel scene in which Jesus declares that his true family are his closest disciples, those that put into practice God's will (Mark 3:31-35), is therefore a faithful reflection of the kind of group formed by Jesus and his disciples.<br /><br />These premises about leadership in the Jesus movement permit us to draw three conclusions. First of all, we can affirm that the disciples gathered around Jesus had an external purpose. They were oriented toward the concrete task of promoting and leading a peasant mass movement centered on the imminent coming of the reign of God. Second, it is very probable that, in order to carry out this task, those disciples closest to Jesus, who did not come from the peasantry but rather from higher social strata, had to assume a lifestyle that involved rupture with their own families. Finally, this group of disciples did not remain in a totally needy situation, because they formed, together with Jesus, a new family of brothers and sisters that had God as father.<br /><br />Mission to Households<br /><br />As we have observed, Jesus called a group of disciples to help him in the task of announcing by word and deeds the imminent arrival of God as king and patron of his people. This purpose appears in an explicit way in the traditions about the commissioning of the disciples. In them we find a series of recommendations concerning reception and rejection in households that can help clarify the attitude of Jesus toward the family. To achieve this clarification we must explain the role of the household in the mission entrusted to the disciples: Did Jesus actually send them to households in order to announce the coming of the kingdom of God; Did some of these households receive them and offer them effective support?<br /><br />The tradition of the commissioning of the disciples has a solid historical basis. It has come down to us in three different versions (Q 10:1-12; Mark 6:7-13 and GThom. 14). The various coincidences between the first two are an indication that both come from an older tradition, while the relationship of both of them to the sayings of the Gospel of Thomas reveals that this instruction was composed with sayings that Jesus uttered in different circumstances. This cluster of sayings is, in the opinion of J. D. Crossan "the most important unit for understanding the historical Jesus, the Common Sayings Tradition, and the continuity from one to the other," and constitutes "the dearest evidence that Jesus and his earliest companions had not just a vision but a program" (Crossan: 325-26).<br /><br />The following is a synopsis of the versions found in Mark and Q, according to the reconstruction of the Critical Edition of Q (Robinson-Hoffman-Kloppenborg):<br /><br /> Mark 6:10-12 Q 10:5-12<br /><br />10 Whenever you enter a house 5 Into whatever house you enter,<br /> first say, "Peace be to this house!"<br /> 6 And if a son of peace be there,<br /> let your peace come upon him; but<br /> if not, let your peace return upon<br /> you.<br /><br />stay there 7 And in that house remain, eating<br /> and drinking what they provide,<br /> for the worker is worthy of<br /> one's reward. Do not move around<br /><br />until you leave that place from house to house.<br /> 8 And whatever town you enter<br /> and they take you in, eat what is<br /> set before you;<br /> 9 and cure the sick there and say<br /> to them, "The kingdom of God has<br /> reached unto you."<br /><br />11 And if any place will not 10 But into whatever town you<br />welcome you or listen to you, enter and they do not take you in,<br /> on going out from that town<br /><br />shake the dust off your feet when 11 shake off the dust from your<br />you leave, as a testimony against feet.<br />them<br /><br /> 12 I tell you: For Sodom it shall<br /> be more bearable on that day than<br /> for that town.<br />In Mark's version the messengers are exhorted to remain in the households that take them in and to shake off the dust of the place that does not receive them (Mark 6:10-11). In the Q version, however, the instruction is much more detailed, and the mission to households (Q 10:5-7) is clearly distinguished from the mission to the city (Q 10:8-12). In the mission to households only the possibility of being taken in is considered, while in the city mission we also find instructions about how to behave in case of refusal. In Mark as well as in Q the instructions about the mission to households are found first, and their tone is clearly more positive than those related to the city.<br /><br />The fact that these mission instructions have been transmitted independently by Mark and Q indicates that this is a very ancient tradition, but it also reveals that this tradition continued to be significant for the disciples of the first generation. To grasp their original tone, we must keep in mind that they were pronounced in the context of the Jesus movement before his death, that is to say in the context of the peasant mass movement led by Jesus and his closest disciples. When placed in this framework, the instructions about the mission to households pose three interesting questions for the topic of our research.<br /><br />The first one, concerning their purpose, may be formulated like this: What was Jesus' objective in sending his closest disciples to households? In Mark's version there are two purposes: to cast out demons (Mark 6:7) and to preach conversion (Mark 6:12:), but the second is clearly redactional. That means that in the tradition before Mark there was only the purpose of casting out unclean spirits (Twelftree: 122-27). According to the Q version, however, Jesus sent his disciples to announce peace and to practice open table fellowship (Q 10:5-7).<br /><br />These two actions, exorcism and open table-fellowship, that appear in Jesus' sayings as the purpose of the mission charge, reveal the situation of the peasant families to which the disciples were sent. These families were suffering the pressure caused by the marketization of the economy and the urbanization process. They were running the risk of forgetting the traditional values of hospitality and solidarity. In this situation, Jesus' messengers announced with their behavior that God was at the point of intervening as king and patron of his people. In this way, not only was disintegration avoided, but also small groups were created in which the reign of God was received and enacted (Horsley: 231-45).<br /><br />The second question concerns the strategy. If Jesus' proclamation belongs to the realm of political religion, it might be asked why Jesus sent his disciples to households. But this contradiction that we perceive between the political horizon of Jesus' message and his domestic strategy is only apparent. In the Hellenistic-Roman world the house and the city were not two separable entities. Aristotle's thesis, according to which every city is made up of households and "every household is a part of the city" (POLITICS 1252a-1253b) was then an axiom (Cicero, DE OFFICIIS I, 17; Philo, DE IOSEPHO 38-39). It is therefore reasonable that Jesus' strategy combined activities in plazas or open areas with those in houses. If the household was the basic cell of society, Jesus could not omit it from his plan to make the good news reach everyone. Recreating the household was the best way to recreate society from its roots.<br /><br />The last question concerns the results of this mission and can be formulated in this way: What were the effects of the disciples' mission to households. There are two facts that can help answer this question. The first one is the contrast between the hospitality in houses (Q 10:5-7; Mark 6:10) and the rejection in the cities (Q 10:8-12; Mark 6:11) that we perceive in the instructions mentioned above. It seems that they refer to two successive phases of the mission. In the first phase the message was addressed to households. This phase had a much more positive result than the second one, in which the message was addressed to cities. The second fact is that this mission to households most probably gained some families for the Jesus movement. They offered hospitality and support to Jesus and his closest disciples in Galilee (Mark 1:29-31; 2:15-17, etc.), as well as in Jerusalem and its surrounding areas (Mark 11 : 11 ; 14:3-9; 12-16; Luke 10:38-42).<br /><br />We can conclude, therefore, that Jesus sent his disciples into households to announce the good news of the kingdom through healing and open table-fellowship. The purpose of this commissioning was to reconstruct society from its roots, recreating in its basic cells, the households, the traditional values of solidarity and hospitality and establishing in them new relationships of brotherhood and sisterhood. The result of this mission was that some of the households joined actively in the Jesus movement and offered shelter and support for the leaders of the group.<br /><br />The Failure and Continuity of the Jesus Movement<br /><br />The peasant mass movement initiated by Jesus ended in failure, as many other mass movements did. The opposition it endured in Galilee discouraged many of its followers (John 6:66-71 ; Mark 8:27-30), but it was above all the events of the last days in Jerusalem that caused the end of the movement. In the Passion narratives, composed with didactic intentions, Judas' betrayal, the abandonment of the Twelve and Peter's denial play an important role, but what is more surprising in them is the change in attitude among the multitudes that had followed Jesus.<br /><br />We must keep in mind that the arrest and death of Jesus took place during the Passover festival, when many pious Jews made pilgrimage to Jerusalem. It is most likely that among those pilgrims there were some of Jesus' Galilean followers, who had accompanied him to the holy city (Mark 11:1-10). This fact makes more significant the contrast between the initial attitude of the multitudes that followed Jesus in Galilee and even cheered him upon entering Jerusalem, and their final reaction of rejection and condemnation.<br /><br />In the Gospels we find some data that may help to explain this change. First, there is the influence of the priestly class, for which the movement initiated by Jesus surely constituted a threat. It is possible that they used the episode in the temple to turn the multitudes against Jesus, giving this symbolic action a meaning different from the one he intended (Sanders: 71-75). In agrarian societies the influence of the dominant classes over peasants is very great because peasants know that their subsistence depends on the elite. To this we may add that the pilgrims who accompanied Jesus could have perceived the action in the temple as an offense against the great symbol of Israelite tradition. All this would explain the change of attitude of the multitudes toward Jesus.<br /><br />The Jesus movement was not different from other peasant mass movements in this regard. The majority of them failed because the peasants could not understand that the evils that plagued them had deep roots. Their main concern was short term subsistence, and when they saw it in danger, they abandoned the leader they had followed so enthusiastically. Palestinian history in the Roman period offers some examples of this phenomenon (Acts 5:36-37).<br /><br />In contrast, however, to other contemporary popular movements, the Jesus movement continued after the death of its leader. It did not continue as a peasant mass movement, but rather as the movement of his disciples--the group that had followed Jesus as a surrogate family and then became the nucleus of the earliest Christian community (Acts 1: 12-14)--together with the households that received the disciples' preaching and offered them support and hospitality during the time of Jesus' activity. It was this group of disciples that continued Jesus' project after his death, encouraged by the experience of his resurrection.<br /><br />This is a decisive observation to understand why the family had such an important role in the disciples' movement after Easter and also to explain the apparent discontinuity between the pre-Easter phrase of the movement and the post-Easter one in their attitude toward the family. Upon losing the support of the multitudes--the peasants to whom Jesus' preaching was originally addressed--the movement that was initiated by Jesus was reduced to the group of disciples that he had called to help him as leaders of the movement. To this group belonged also the families that had accepted the message announced by these disciples. The first group had lived close to Jesus as a family of brothers that had God as father. The second one had accepted living those same values in their families. These two groups of disciples gave continuity to the Jesus movement, and this explains why the family had such an important place in the Christian groups that were emerging after Easter.<br /><br />Conclusion<br /><br />It has been my objective in this study to find out whether the importance of the family in the configuration of the group of Jesus' disciples after Easter was only the result of a process of social adaptation, or whether, on the contrary, that group was shaped in the pre-Easter phase of the movement after the model of kinship relationships. To this end, I have asked what Jesus' attitude was toward the family: what role did the family play in the movement initiated by Jesus, and did Jesus use the kinship metaphor to define the relationships among his disciples?<br /><br />To answer these questions I started with a characterization of the Jesus movement as a peasant mass movement, similar in some aspects to other movements that arose in Palestine during the Roman period. The Jesus movement was, however, a peculiar one, and among its peculiarities one was crucial for its continuity: discipleship. Jesus gathered around him a group of disciples and asked them to take on the lifestyle of uprooted peasants to whom they would announce the good news of the imminent coming of God as king and patron of his people. This new lifestyle included breaking away from their families. In exchange Jesus offered them a new family in which they could live as brothers and children of God. He sent these disciples to announce to households the good news of the kingdom, through healing and open table-fellowship, and the result of this was that some of these households joined the movement and became the basic social structure of the movement.<br /><br />The rejection of Jesus in Jerusalem and his death caused the movement to lose its social basis and fail as a mass movement. Nevertheless, the group of his closest disciples and the households that accepted their message, prompted by the resurrection experience, continued what Jesus had begun. Both groups were configured as surrogate families whose only father was God. This fact explains the importance that the family had in the groups of Jesus' disciples in subsequent generations.<br /><br />The most important conclusion of this study is, therefore, that there exists a fundamental continuity in this respect between the pre-Easter and the post-Easter periods of the early Christian movement. But the study of this process also sheds light on another aspect of great significance in understanding the continuity between Jesus and the Church. As traditional ecclesiology affirms, the Church had its origins in the group of Jesus' closest disciples, namely, the Twelve. The seed of the community that arose after the resurrection was not the multitudes that followed Jesus, but rather this closest group of disciples.<br /><br />Works Cited<br /><br />Crossan, J. D. 1998. THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY. DISCOVERING WHAT HAPPENED IN THE YEARS IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE EXECUTION OF JESUS. San Francisco, CA: Harper.<br /><br />Fiensy, D. 1999. Leaders of Mass Movements and the Leader of the Jesus Movement. JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT 74: 3-27.<br /><br />1997. Jesus' Socio-Economic Background. Pp. 225-55 in HILLEL AND JESUS. COMPARATIVE STUDIES OF TWO MAJOR RELIGIOUS LEADERS, edited by J. H. Charlesworth & L. L. Johns. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.<br /><br />1991. THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF PALESTINE IN THE HERODIAN PERIOD. THE LAND IS MINE. Lewlston-Queenston-Lampeter: The Edwin Mellen Press.<br /><br />Freyne, S. 1994. The Geography, Politics and Economics of Galilee and the Quest for the Historial Jesus. Pp. 75-121 in STUDYING THE HISTORICAL JESUS. EVALUATIONS OF THE STATE OF CURRENT RESEARCH, edited by B. Chilton & C. Evans. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill.<br /><br />Guijarro, S. 2001. Kingdom and Family in Conflict. A Contribution to the Study of the Historical Jesus. Pp. 210-38 in SOCIAL SCIENTIFIC MODELS FOR INTERPRETING THE BIBLE. ESSAYS BY THE CONTEXT GROUP IN HONOR OF BRUCE J. MALINA, edited by J. J. Pilch. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill.<br /><br />2000. Dips Padre en la aeluacion de Jesus. ESTUDIOS TRINITARIOS 34:33-69.<br /><br />1997. The Family in First Century Galilee. Pp. 42-65 in CONSTRUCTING EARLY CHRISTIAN FAMILIES, edited by H. Moxnes. London, UK: Routledge.<br /><br />Hanson, K. C., & Douglas E. Oakman. 1998. PALESTINE IN THE TIME OF JESUS: SOCIAL STRUCTURES AND SOCIAL CONFLICTS. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Hellerman, H. 2001. THE ANCIENT CHURCH AS FAMILY. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Hengel, M. 1981. CHARISMATIC LEADER AND HIS FOLLOWERS. Translated by James C. G. Grieg, edited by John Riches. Edinburgh, UK: T&T Clark.<br /><br />Horsley, R. 1993. JESUS AND THE SPIRAL OF VIOLENCE. POPULAR JEWISH RESISTANCE IN ROMAN PALESTINE. 2nd ed. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Horsley, R. A., & J. S. Hanson. 1985. BANDITS, PROPHETS AND MESSIAHS: POPULAR MOVEMENTS AT THE TIME OF JESUS. San Francisco, CA: Harper & Row.<br /><br />Lang, B. 1990. Charisma and the Disruption of the Family in Early Christianity. Pp. 278-87 in DIE VIEFALT DER KULTUR. ETHNOLOGISCHE ASPEKTE VON VERWANDSCHAFT, KUNST UND WELTANFASSUNG. ERNST WILHELM MULLER ZUM 65 GEBURGSTAG, edited by K. H. Kohl, H. Muzinski, & I. Strecker. Berlin, Germany: Dieter Reimer Verlag.<br /><br />Lenski, G. 1966. POWER AND PRIVILEGE: A THEORY OF SOCIAL STRATIFICATION. New York, NY: McGraw Hill.<br /><br />Malina, B. J. 2001a. THE NEW TESTAMENT WORLD: INSIGHTS FROM CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY. 3d ed. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox.<br /><br />2001b. THE SOCIAL GOSPEL OF JESUS: THE KINGDOM OF GOD IN MEDITERRANEAN PERSPECTIVE. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.<br /><br />1999. Criteria for Assessing the Authentic Words of Jesus: Some Specifications. Pp. 27-45 in AUTHENTICATING THE WORDS OF JESUS, edited by B.D. Chilton and C.A. Evans. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill.<br /><br />1987. Wealth and Poverty en the New Testament and its World. INTERPRETATION 41: 354-67.<br /><br />Neyrey, J. 1995. Loss of Wealth, Loss of Family and Loss of Honour. The Cultural Context of the Original Makarisms in Q. Pp. 139-58 in MODELLING EARLY CHRISTIANITY. SOCIAL-SCIENTIFIC STUDIES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT IN ITS CONTEXT, edited by P. F. Esler. London, UK/New York, NY: Routledge.<br /><br />Pesce, M. 1984. Discepolato gesuano e discepolato rabbinico. Problemi e prospettive della comparazione. Pp. 351-89 in AUFSTIEG UND NIEDERGANG DER ROMISHEN WELT II, 25. 1, edited by H. Temporini & W. Haase. Berlin, Germany/New York, NY.<br /><br />Pitt-Rivers, J. 1968. Kinship: III. Pseudo-Kinship. Pp. 408-13 in INTERNAFIONAL ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE SOCIAL SCIENCES, edited by D. L. Sills. New York, NY: The Macmillan Company and the Free Press.<br /><br />Robinson, J. M., P. Hoffmann, & J. S. Kloppenborg. 2000. THE CRITICAL EDITION OF Q. SYNOPSIS INCLUDING THE GOSPELS OF MATTHEW AND LUKE, MARK AND THOMAS WITH ENGLISH, GERMAN, AND FRENCH TRANSLATIONS OF Q AND THOMAS. Leuven, Belgium: Peeters.<br /><br />Sanders, E. P. 1985. JESUS AND JUDAISM. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Schussler Fiorenza, E. 1992 (c. 1983). IN MEMORY OF HER: A FEMINIST THEOLOGICAL RECONSTRUCTION OF CHRISTIAN ORIGINS. New York, NY: Crossroad Books.<br /><br />Theissen, G. 1989. Jesusbewegung als charismatische Wertrevolution NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES 35: 343-60.<br /><br />Theissen, G., & A. Merz. 1998. THE HISTORICAL JESUS: A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE. Translated by John Bowden. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Twelftree, G. H. 1993. JESUS, THE EXORCIST. A CONTRIBUTION TO THE STUDY OF THE HISTORICAL JESUS. Peabody, Ma.: Hendrickso<br /><br />Santiago Guijarro, S.S.L. (Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome), S.S.D. (Pontifical University of Salamanca, Spain), is a professor in the Faculty of Theology of the Pontifical University of Salamanca (e-mail: guijarro@upsa.es). He is the author of a monograph on the disruption of the family for the sake of discipleship (FIDELIDADES EN CONFLICTO. LA RUPTURA CON LA FAMILIA POR CAUSA DEE DISCIPULADO Y DE LA MISION EN LA TRADICION SINOPTICA (Salamanca, 1998). His most recent contribution to BTB is Why Does the Gospel of Mark Begin As It Does? BTB 33:1 (Spring 2003), 28-38.<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2004 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-56909366615943487682007-07-06T19:26:00.000-07:002007-07-06T19:33:50.228-07:00Zechariah's unbelief and early Jewish-Christian relations: the form and structure of Luke 1:5-25 as a clue to the narrative agenda of Luke<img src="http://www.abu.nb.ca/Courses/NTIntro/P52b.jpg"/><br /><br />Zechariah's unbelief and early Jewish-Christian relations: the form and structure of Luke 1:5-25 as a clue to the narrative agenda of the Gospel of Luke<br /><br />Steven R. Harmon<br />Abstract<br /><br />The narrative agenda of the Gospel of Luke seeks to move the implied reader (who resembles the "Godfearer" of Acts) from an interest in Judaism to conversion to Christianity. Luke 1:5-25 introduces this agenda by highlighting both continuity and discontinuity between Judaism and Christianity. Use of the Hebrew Bible commissioning narrative form establishes a continuity between Judaism and Christianity, appealing to the implied reader's attraction to Judaism yet suggesting conversion to Christianity as a natural next step. A chiastic structure that focuses on Zechariah's unbelieving response to the announcement of John's birth introduces a discontinuity between Judaism and Christianity, suggesting to the implied reader that the time has come to go beyond Judaism and embrace Christianity.<br /><br />**********<br /><br />Post-Holocaust Second Testament scholarship has rightly made the question of anti-Semitism in the Second Testament documents a major topic for inquiry and debate (Dunn 1992, Klassen 1986, Sandmel 1978). An article by Joseph Tyson (1995) makes an important contribution to the burgeoning literature on the problems posed by Luke-Acts. Tyson identifies the opposing conclusions of Jacob Jervell (1972) and Jack Sanders (1987) about the portrayal of Jews and Judaism in Luke-Acts as the basic parameters for contemporary investigation. Jervell offers a positive reading of Luke's attitude toward the Jewish people. Sanders, on the other hand, argues that Luke-Acts is fundamentally an anti-Jewish writing. Both propose that Luke-Acts is in some way a response to controversy in the Lukan community over the relationship of the emerging Christian church to Judaism. The Achilles heel of the approaches of both Jervell and Sanders, according to Tyson, is their reliance on modern diachronic reconstructions of the readership of Luke-Acts (Tyson 1995: 19-23).<br /><br />Tyson suggests that the impasse between Jervell and Sanders may be resolved by seeking clues to Luke's intentions not in the reconstructed first readers in the hypothetical world behind the text but rather in the reader implicit in the world of the text itself (p. 23). This implied reader, Tyson concludes, "is similar to those characters in Acts that are called `Godfearers,'" represented intratextually by Theophilus, the centurion at Capernaum in Luke 7, the Ethiopian eunuch, and Cornelius (pp. 25-26). The implied reader is "a pious Gentile who has deep affinities with Judaism but has not yet made a total commitment" (p. 26). Luke-Acts is therefore "an evangelistic text addressed to Godfearers" (p. 38). Tyson submits that such a reading of Luke-Acts supports and qualifies the otherwise opposed interpretations of Jervell and Sanders:<br /><br /> The treatment of Jewish religion and people forms part of the rhetorical<br /> strategy used by the implied author in addressing the implied reader.<br /> Positive images of Judaism are consistent with the assumed attitudes of a<br /> Godfearer as he is first addressed. But negative images, which show the<br /> inferiority of Judaism to Christianity and help to explain Jewish rejection<br /> of the Christian message, urge the Godfearer to abandon the philo-Judaism<br /> with which he began [p. 38].<br />Tyson selects five passages in Luke-Acts as-test cases for his thesis: Luke 1-2 and 9:28-36, and Acts 13:13-52, 15:1-29, and 28:17-28. In his reading of the infancy narratives in Luke 1-2, Tyson includes Zechariah among the positive representatives of Jewish piety in these narratives with whom the implied author hopes the Godfearer to identify (p. 27). Tyson also identifies the speech of Simeon in 2:29-35 as the key passage in the Lukan infancy narratives that anticipates the relation of Christianity to Judaism in the rest of the work (pp. 27-28). This article contends that Tyson's thesis is better supported by a differently nuanced reading of the role of Zechariah and a different identification of the key anticipatory passage in Luke 1-2 in light of a formal and structural analysis of the annunciation pericope in Luke 1:5-25. Interpreting 1:5-25 as a chiastically structured commissioning narrative, while qualifying Tyson's reading of the passage, provides additional exegetical support for Tyson's overall understanding of the narrative agenda of the Gospel of Luke.<br /><br />The Significance of the Commissioning Narrative Form in Luke 1:5-25<br /><br />Most studies of the Lukan infancy narratives have concluded that the annunciation story in 1:5-25 is patterned after annunciations or birth oracles in the Hebrew Bible (Loisy 1924: 77; Benoit 1957: 17640; Ruddick 1970: 343-48; Ellis 1974: 67-68; Schweizer 1984: 18-24; Nolland 1989: 18; Evans 1990: 144-45; Johnson 1991: 32, 34-35; Brown 1993: 268-69; Ernst 1993: 52). Formal allusions to Hebrew Bible birth oracles suggest parallels with Abraham and Sarah (Gen 18:1-15), Manoah and the mother of Samson (Judg 13:1-23), and Elkanah and Hannah (1 Sam 1:1-18), thus placing the birth of the messianic forerunner in continuity with the births of important figures in Hebrew salvation-history in the mind of the reader at the outset of the narrative (Brown 1993: 269). Such an identification and interpretation of the form of the pericope would be consistent with Tyson's observations about the role of the infancy narratives in eliciting the implied reader's sympathy for Jewish piety and its messianic expectations (Tyson 1995: 26-28).<br /><br />Another proposal regarding the form of 1:5-25, however, establishes a more thoroughgoing continuity between Judaism and the nascent Christian movement (proleptically represented by John the Baptizer) than does the putative use of the birth oracle form. Benjamin Hubbard (1977:115) and Terence Mullins (1976: 605) identified 1:5-25 and the following pericope in 1:26-38 as Lukan uses of a Hebrew Bible "commissioning story" form. On the basis of previous studies of the commissioning form in the Hebrew Bible (Oppenheim 1956, Habel 1965, Kuntz 1967, Baltzer 1968, Richter 1970, Long 1972), Hubbard isolated seven formal components which serve as criteria for identifying occurrences of the form in the Second Testament: (1) an introduction, "a brief introductory remark providing circumstantial details"; (2) a confrontation in which "the deity/commissioner appears and confronts the individual to be commissioned"; (3) a reaction "by way of an action expressive of fear or unworthiness"; (4) a commission in which "the individual is told to undertake a specific task which often involves his assuming a new role in life"; (5) protest, a response to the commission with a claim of unworthiness or a questioning of the deity or commissioner; (6) a reassurance in which the deity or commissioner overrules the protest; and (7) a conclusion, often "a statement that the one commissioned starts to carry out his work" (pp. 104-05). Hubbard found twenty-seven commissioning stories in the Hebrew Bible (p. 107). According to Mullins (pp. 605-06), the Second Testament documents contain thirty-seven complete or partial instances of the commissioning narrative form, twenty-seven of which are in Luke-Acts: Luke 1:5-25; 1:26-38; 2:8-20; 5:1-11; 7:20-28; 10:1-17; 15:11-31; 22:7-13; 22:14-38; 24:36-53; Acts 1:1-12; 7:30-36; 9:1-9; 9:10-17; 10:1-8; 10:9-23; 10:30-33; 11:4-17; 12:6-10; 13:1-3; 16:9-10; 22:6-11; 22:12-16; 22:17-21; 23:11; 26:12-20; 27:21-26. Hubbard (p. 122) identified twenty-five occurrences of the form, sixteen of which are in Luke-Acts: 1:5-25; 1:26-38; 2:8-20; 24:36-53; Acts 5:17-21; 9:1-9; 9:10-17; 10:1-8; 10:9-23; 16:9-10; 18:9-11; 22:6-11; 22:17-21; 23:11; 26:12-20; 27:21-26.<br /><br />The lists of Second Testament commissioning stories compiled by Hubbard and Mullins suggest that the use of this form is a Lukan literary characteristic. It is significant that of the five commissioning narratives in Luke-Acts which include all seven formal elements (Luke 1:5-25; 1:26-38; 5:1-11; Acts 1:1-12; 9:9-18), three appear at the beginning of the crucial narrative openings of Luke and Acts: Luke 1:5-25, Luke 1:26-38, and Acts 1:1-12. The function of a narrative opening, according to Meir Sternberg, is "the sequential manipulation of the reader's attitudes and sympathies, norms and hypotheses" (1978: 96). The use of the commissioning narrative form in the initial pericope of the narrative opening of the Gospel of Luke may therefore provide a clue to Luke's narrative agenda.<br /><br />In Luke 1:5-25, Luke uses the seven elements of the commissioning narrative form to tell the story of the annunciation of the birth of John the Baptizer. Verses 5-10 serve as the introduction, supplying the reader with circumstantial details. These details seem intended to appeal to the reader's sympathy for Jewish piety. The opening phrase, "It came about in the days of Herod, King of Judea (egeneto en tais hemerais Herodou basileos Ioudaias)," echoes the language of formulae used to place events in the reign of a given king in the Septuagint. Luke thus places these events in the lives of Zechariah and Elizabeth in continuity with the saving acts of Yahweh in the time of the kings of Judah in the Hebrew Bible (Nolland 1989, p. 25). The identification of Zechariah as a priest and Elizabeth as belonging to a priestly family places them at the center of Jewish religious life and thus representative of it (Schmithals 1980, p. 23). They are "righteous (dikaioi)" and blameless keepers of the commandments (v. 6). Zechariah performs his priestly service at the geographical center of Jewish piety, the temple. Luke has Zechariah ministering not merely at the hieron, the temple complex, but in the naos, the inner sanctuary of the temple restricted to the priests (Marshall 1978, p. 54). Luke thereby locates the events that follow not only at the architectural symbol of God's presence with the people of Israel, but in the very place within that edifice in which Yahweh was believed to manifest his presence. Outside the temple the assembly of people praying represents the present hopes of the Jewish people (Coleridge 1993: 32). The introduction of the commissioning narrative appeals to the sympathy of the implied reader for Judaism and its institutions.<br /><br />The appearance of the angel in v 11 provides the element of confrontation. Verse 12 reports Zechariah's reaction to the angelic confrontation: "he was terrified and fear fell upon him." The angel reassures Zechariah in v 13a: "Fear not, Zechariah." The commission proper follows in w 13b-17 as the grounds for the reassurance, introduced by a causal conjunction (dioti, "for"). Zechariah is to cease his fearful reaction to the angelic confrontation because of the angel's promise of a son to Zechariah and prophecies of John's impact (he will bring joy to Zechariah and many others), his character (he will he great in God's sight, live a life of special consecration to God, and be filled with the Holy Spirit), and his ministry (he will lead the people to repentance in a role like that of Elijah). Zechariah protests to the angelic commissioner in v 18 that he and Elizabeth are too old for this to be so. Again the angel offers reassurance to Zechariah in vv 19-20 by disclosing his identity as Gabriel, an instrument of eschatological revelation in Daniel 8-12 and later Jewish angelology (Nolland 1989: 32), and promising a sign. Zechariah's inability to speak functions not only as a punishment for his unbelieving protest but also as a reassuring sign that the promise of John's birth "will be fulfilled" (Hubbard 1977: 115). Verses 22-25 constitute the conclusion, which brings closure to the narrative by reporting the fulfillment of the angel's words: Zechariah leaves the temple unable to speak, returns home, and Elizabeth becomes pregnant.<br /><br />Although the customary formal identification of 1:5-25 as a birth oracle would certainly establish a continuity with Judaism at the outset of Luke's narrative through an implicit allusion to birth oracles in the Hebrew Bible, the classification of the pericope as a commissioning narrative suggests a much more thoroughgoing continuity with the Hebrew salvation-history. There are relatively few birth oracles in the Hebrew Bible. Brown (1993: 269) lists six passages as possible formal referents of 1:5-25 but finds specific allusions only to the birth oracles addressed to Abraham/Sarah and Elkanah/Hannah. The commissioning narrative form, on the other hand, occurs twenty-seven times (Hubbard 1977: 107). By presenting the annunciation of the birth of John in the form of a commissioning narrative, Luke places the beginnings of the immediate antecedent of the Christian movement, viz., the movement of John the Baptizer and his followers, in continuity with and on a par with the divine commissionings of the patriarchs, judges, kings, and prophets of the Hebrew Bible. By doing so in the initial episode of the narrative opening of his Gospel, Luke begins with the religious pre-understanding of the implied reader. The introduction of the pericope explicitly portrays Zechariah and Elizabeth as representatives of the kind of piety to which the Godfearer is attracted. The commissioning narrative form implicitly suggests to the reader familiar with the Septuagint (part of the profile of the implied reader of Luke-Acts proposed by Tyson 1995: 25) an historical and even eschatological matrix for the beginnings of Christianity that stresses its continuity with Judaism.<br /><br />The Significance of the Chiastic Structure of Luke 1:5-25<br /><br />If the form of 1:5-25 highlights the continuity of Christianity with Judaism, the structure of the pericope hints proleptically at a discontinuity that will later characterize the relationship between Christianity and Judaism. A structural analysis of the pericope that begins with the main clauses in the Greek text and identifies the structural and conceptual relationships between them reveals that 1:5-25 is structured as a complete six-level chiasm:<br /><br />A Conflict: Zechariah and Elizabeth are childless (vv 5-7)<br />B Zechariah serves at the temple (v 8)<br />C Zechariah enters the temple (v 9)<br />D The people are praying outside the temple (v 10)<br />E The angel addresses Zechariah (vv 11-17)<br />F Zechariah responds to the angel (v 18)<br />E' The angel answers Zechariah (vv 19-10)<br />D' The people are waiting outside the temple (v 21)<br />C' Zechariah exits the temple (v 22)<br />B' Zechariah completes his service at the temple (v 23)<br />A' Resolution: Elizabeth conceives (vv 24-25)<br />The narrative introduction begins with the conflict that serves as the narrative premise of the pericope, the childlessness of Zechariah and Elizabeth despite their righteousness (vv 5-7); the narrative conclusion ends with the miraculous resolution of that conflict, which removes Elizabeth's "reproach (oneidos)" (vv 24-25). The narrative introduction continues by setting the stage at the temple for the annunciation oracle (vv 8-10); the narrative conclusion begins with the aftermath of the annunciation oracle at the temple (vv 21-23). Within vv 8-10 and 21-23, the mention of Zechariah's service at the temple (v 8) is parallel to the completion of his service at the temple (v 23), Zechariah's entrance into the temple (v 9) parallels his exit from the temple (v 22), and the mention of the people praying outside the temple (v 10) is paralleled by the people waiting outside the temple (v 21). These elements of the narrative introduction and conclusion serve as inclusios bracketing the heart of the pericope, the annunciation oracle itself (vv 11-20). The two halves of the oracle (vv 11-17 and 19-20) in turn bracket the response of Zechariah to the oracle, placing Zechariah's response at the structural center of the passage. As the middle element of the inverted parallelism in a chiasm, Zechariah's unbelieving response rather than the narrative conclusion constitutes the conceptual climax of the pericope (Land 1942: 40).<br /><br />Three other scholars, apparently independently of one another, have also found a chiastic structure in 1:5-25, but with different conclusions. Eduard Schweizer proposed a four-level chiasm with the initial angelic oracle in vv 13b-17 as the central element (1984: 18):<br /><br />A General situation: Date, place, persons, need (vv 5-7)<br />B Specific situation: Date, place, persons, appearance of<br /> the angel (vv 8-11)<br />C Reaction and reassurance (vv 12-13a)<br />D Promise of birth and its meaning for many (w 131-17)<br />C' Reaction and angelic sign (vv 18-20)<br />B' Silence (vv 21-22)<br />A' Fulfillment, resolution of need (vv 23-25)<br />Schweizer finds the same structure with identical thematic elements in the following pericope, 1:26-38. The effort to find parallel chiasms in the two pericopes may account for the forced parallel between the specific situation in vv 8-11 and the silence of Zechariah in vv 21-23 (B and B'). The compression of vv 8-11 and 21-23 into one level of the chiasm misses the chiastic parallels between Zechariah's service at the temple and the completion of that service (vv 8 and 23), Zechariah's entrance into the temple and his exit therefrom (vv 9 and 22), and the people praying outside and waiting outside (vv 10 and 21). Most significantly, Schweizer's analysis overlooks the function of the two angelic speeches as an inclusio calling attention to Zechariah's response in v 18 as the central element.<br /><br />Alberto Casalegno found a three-bevel chiastic structure in 1:5-25, with the dialogue between the angel and Zechariah (vv 11-20) as the central element (1984: 31-32):<br /><br />A Introduction of the personages of the story (vv 5-7)<br />B Priestly service, entrance into the temple, prayer of the<br /> people (vv 8-10)<br />C Appearance of the angel and dialogue with Zechariah<br /> (vv 11-20)<br />B' Expectation of the people, exit from the holy place, end<br /> of service (vv 21-23)<br />A' Epilogue (vv 24-25)<br />Casalegno's conclusions are essentially identical with those proposed in the present article, apart from the location of the central element of the chiasm. While Casalegno identified only three major levels of parallelism in his structural outline, he makes it clear in the course of his discussion that the events included in the second level of the chiasm, B and B', may be subdivided into three additional levels of parallels: vv 8 and 23, vv 9 and 22, and vv 10 and 21. Casalegno also divides the central level, vv 11-20 (C), into four subsections that are not chiastically structured: the appearance of the angel (vv 11-12), the annunciation (vv 13-17), the objection of Zechariah (v 18), and the sub. sequent angelic communication (vv 19-20). He narrowly misses making v 18 the central element of a chiastic structure by separating the appearance of the angel (vv 11-12) from the first half of the angelic oracle (vv 13-17).<br /><br />Ronald Man, who curiously begins the pericope at v 6 rather than v 5, discovered an eight-level chiasm with the annunciation in vv 13-17 at its center (1984: 149-50):<br /><br />A Godliness of Zechariah and Elizabeth (v 6)<br />B Elizabeth barren (v 7)<br />C Zechariah's priestly service (v 8)<br />D Zechariah enters the temple (v 9)<br />E The people outside (v 10)<br />F Angel standing (v 11)<br />G Zechariah's fear (v 12)<br />H The annunciation (vv 13-17)<br />G' Zechariah's doubt (v 18)<br />F' Angel who stands (vv 19-20)<br />E' The people outside (v 21)<br />D' Zechariah exits from the temple (v 22)<br />C' Zechariah's priestly service (v 23)<br />B' Elizabeth pregnant (v 24)<br />A' God's favor on Elizabeth (and Zechariah) (v 25)<br />The parallel Man draws between the references to the angel standing in v 11 and vv 19-20 is not convincing. Verse 11 is a narrative reference to the angel standing on the right side of the altar of incense; v 19 is direct discourse in which the angel identifies himself as Gabriel, the one who stands in the presence of God. Verses 19-20 do indeed constitute a level in the second half of the inverted parallelism, but they are concerned primarily with Gabriel's answer to Zechariah rather than with his incidental heavenly posture. As the an. gel's reply, vv 19-20 parallel the initial angelic oracle in vv 13-17 rather than the narration of the circumstances of the angelic epiphany in v 11 and therefore serve as the completion of an inclusio bracketing the response of Zechariah in v 18. Man concludes from his identification of the annunciation in vv 13-17 as the central element that the chiastic structure of 1:5-25 calls attention to the end of four centuries of prophetic silence in Israel, a conclusion that may be an uncritical imposition of a later rabbinical tradition about the cessation of prophecy (Greenspahn 1989).<br /><br />I contend that 1:5-25 chiastically emphasizes the unbelieving response of Zechariah in order to introduce in the first episode of the narrative opening the recurring motif of the discontinuity of Christianity with Judaism because of Judaism's unbelieving response to Jesus and his movement. The juxtaposition of this passage with the following pericope underscores this theme of discontinuity. Zechariah, a sacerdotal representative of Jewish religious life ministering in the geographical and architectural center of Jewish piety, responds initially to the promise of the beginnings of the fulfillment of Jewish messianic hopes with disbelief. Mary, a representative of the `am ha'arez ("people of the land") on the margins of Jewish religious life, responds with belief and obedience. It is true that Mary's response in 1:34 is also incredulous. Both Zechariah and Mary ask how such a thing could be, and then offer grounds for their questioning--the old age of Zechariah and Elizabeth and the virginal status of Mary. Zechariah, however, is given a punitive sign, while the annunciation to Mary concludes with her pledge of willing submission. The angel calls attention to Zechariah's disbelief in v 20; he does not similarly chastise Mary. The contrast between Zechariah's unbelief and Mary's belief seeks to move the implied reader, the Godfearer, beyond the unbelieving community represented proleptically by Zechariah and toward the believing community represented proleptically by Mary. Zechariah himself does move from unbelief in v 18 to obedience in the naming of John in 1:59-63 and is filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesies in 1:67-79. Since Luke's portrayal of Zechariah in 1:5-25 both appeals to the implied reader's religious sympathies and seeks to move the reader beyond them, Zechariah's implicit pilgrimage from unbelief to belief may also serve as a paradigm to be followed by the Godfearer.<br /><br />It may be objected that this chiastic interpretation of Luke 1:5-25 is an artificial literary reconstruction that does not take into account the way in which texts were read/heard in a predominately aural culture. Mark Coleridge (1993), for example, credits Casalegno for calling attention to the role of the twin references to the people outside the temple in flanking the central section of the pericope, but charges that Casalegno's structure "fails to reckon with ... the temporal flow of the narrative, which is not read according to the rhythm of spatial organization that a structure such as the above [Casalegno's chiastic structure] reveals" (p. 32). This objection is satisfactorily answered by Augustine Stock (1984), who in a previous issue of this journal rightly argued that recent criticisms of modern chiastic interpretations of ancient literature fail to take into account the pervasive didactic use of chiasmus in Homeric, Hellenistic, and Roman education that. produced a widespread sensitivity to the presence of chiastic structures in both literature and speech. Ears and eyes trained to be alert for elements of parallelism in oral and written communication could easily have caught Luke's chiastic focus on Zechariah's unbelieving response.<br /><br />Conclusions<br /><br />The narrative agenda of the Gospel of Luke, as presented by Tyson, seeks to move the Godfearer from an at. traction and tentative commitment to Judaism to conversion to Christianity. Tyson correctly notes the disclosure of that agenda in Simeon's prophecy of divided Jewish responses to Jesus (2:29-35). I differ, however, with his selection of that pericope as "the key passage in Luke 1-2" which anticipates "the relation of the Christian message to Judaism" (Tyson 1995: 27). The Lukan narrative implicitly introduces its "evangelistic" agenda more comprehensively, more artfully, and much earlier in 1:5-25, the initial episode of the narrative opening of Luke. The formal shaping of the pericope as a commissioning narrative establishes at the outset a continuity between Judaism and Christianity, on the one hand appealing to the religious affinities of the implied reader and on the other hand suggesting conversion to Christianity as the natural next step in his or her religious quest. The chiastic structure of the passage introduces at the outset the discontinuity between Judaism and Christianity which the Jewish rejection of Jesus will later occasion, hinting to the Godfearer that the time has come to go beyond Judaism. Such a supercessionist reading is consistent with the function of Second Testament portrayals of Judaism in the parting of the ways between Christianity and Judaism in the early centuries CE. The question of whether it ought to be sustained in the present is more properly the task of constructive theology and ecumenical dialogue than of the present investigation in biblical theology.<br /><br />Works Cited<br /><br />Baltzer, Klaus. 1968. Considerations Concerning the Office and Calling of the Prophet. HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW 61/4, 567-91.<br /><br />Benoit, Pierre. 1957. L'Enfance de Jean-Baptiste selon Luc I. NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES 3/3, 169-94.<br /><br />Brown, Raymond E. 1993. THE BIRTH OF THE MESSIAH: A COMMENTARY ON THE INFANCY NARRATIVES IN THE GOSPELS OF MATTHEW AND LUKE. Rev. ed. Anchor Bible Reference Library. New York, NY: Doubleday.<br /><br />Casalegno, Alberto. 1984. GESU E IL TEMPIO: STUDIO REDAZIONAILE DI LUCA-ATII. Brescia, Italy: Morcelliana.<br /><br />Coleridge, Mark. 1993. The Birth of the Lukan Narrative: Narrative as Christology in Luke 1-2. JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT SUPPLEMENT SERIES, 88. Sheffield, UK: JSOT Press.<br /><br />Dunn, James D. G. 1992. The Question of Anti-Semitism in the New Testament Writings. Pp. 177-211 in JEWS AND CHRISTIANS: THE PARTING OF THE WAYS, A.D. 70 TO 135, edited by James D. G. Dunn. Wissenshcaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neun Testament, 66. Tubingen, Germany: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck).<br /><br />Ellis, E. Earle. 1974. THE GOSPEL OF LUKE. Rev. ed. New Century Bible Commentary. London, UK: Marshall, Morgan & Scott.<br /><br />Ernst, Josef. 1993. DAS EVANGELIUM NACH LUKAS. Regensburger Neues Testament. Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet.<br /><br />Evans, C. F. 1990. SAINT LUKE. TPI New Testament Commentaries. London, UK: SCM Press/Philadelphia, PA: Trinity Press International,<br /><br />Greenspahn, Frederick E. 1989. Why Prophecy Ceased. JOURNAL OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE 108/1, 37-49.<br /><br />Habel, N. 1965. The Form and Significance of the Call Narratives. ZEITSCHRIFT FUR DIE ALTTESTAMENTLICHE WISSEN-SCHAFT 77/3, 297-323.<br /><br />Hubbard, Benjamin J. 1977. Commissioning Stories in Luke-Acts: A Study of Their Antecedents, Form and Content. SEMEIA 8, 103-26.<br /><br />Jervell, Jacob. 1972. LUKE-ACTS AND THE PEOPLE OF GOD: A NEW LOOK AT LUKE-ACTS. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Publishing House.<br /><br />Johnson, Luke Timothy. 1991. THE GOSPEL OF LUKE. Sacra Pagina 3. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press.<br /><br />Klassen, W. 1986. Anti-Judaism in Early Christianity: The State of the Question. Pp. 1-19 in Vol. 1 of ANTI-JUDAISM IN EARLY CHRISTIANITY, edited by Peter Richardson. Studies in Christianity, and Judaism, 2. Waterloo, ON: Wilfried Laurier University Press.<br /><br />Kuntz, J. Kenneth. 1967. THE SELF-REVELATION OF GOD. Philadelphia: Westminster Press.<br /><br />Loisy, Alfred. 1924. L'EVANGILE SELON LUC. Paris: Minerva G.M.B.H.<br /><br />Long, Burke O. 1972, Prophetic Call Traditions and Reports of Visions. ZEITSCHRIFT FOR DIE ALTTESTAMENTLICHE WISSENSCHAFT 84/4, 494-500.<br /><br />Lund, Nils W. 1942. CHIASMUS IN THE NEW TESTAMENT: A STUDY IN THE FORM AND FUNCTION OF CHIASTIC STRUCTURES. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press; reprint, Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers, 1992.<br /><br />Man, Ronald E. 1984. The Value of Chiasm for New Testament Interpretation. BIBLIOTHECA SACRA 141/562, 146-57.<br /><br />Marshall, I. Howard. 1978. THE GOSPEL OF LUKE: A COMMENTARY ON THE GREEK TEXT. New International Greek Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans.<br /><br />Mullins, Terrence Y. New Testament Commission Forms, Especially in Luke-Acts 95/4, 603-14.<br /><br />Nolland, John 1989. LUKE 1:1-9:20. Word Biblical Commentary 35a. Dallas: Word Books.<br /><br />Oppenheim, A. Leo. 1956. THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS IN THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST. Philadelphia, PA: American Philosophical Society.<br /><br />Richter, Wolfgang. 1970. DIE SOGENNANTEN VORPROPHETISCHEN BERUFUNGSBERICHTE. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 101. Gottingen, Germany: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.<br /><br />Ruddick, Jr., C. T. 1970. Birth Narratives in Genesis and Luke. NOVUM TESTAMENTUM 12/4, 343-48.<br /><br />Sanders, Jack T. 1987. THE JEWS IN LUKE-ACTS. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Sandmel, Samuel. 1978. ANTI-SEMITISM IN THE NEW TESTAMENT? Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press.<br /><br />Schmithals, Walter 1980. DAS EVANGELIUM NACH LUKAS. Zurcher Bibelkommentare. Zurich, Switzerland: Theologischer Verlag.<br /><br />Schweizer, Eduard. 1984. THE GOOD NEWS ACCORDING TO LUKE, translated by David E. Green. Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press.<br /><br />Sternberg, Meir. 1978. EXPOSITIONAL MODES AND TEMPORAL ORDERING IN FICTION. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press.<br /><br />Stock, Augustine. 1984. Chiastic Awareness and Education in Antiquity. BIBLICAL THEOLOGY BULLETIN 14/1, 23-27.<br /><br />Tyson, Joseph B. 1995. Jews and Judaism in Luke-Acts: Reading As a Godfearer. NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES 41/1, 19-38.<br /><br />Steven R. Harmon, Ph.D (Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary), is an Assistant Professor of Christian Theology at Campbell University Divinity School, Post Office Drawer 4050, Buies Creek, NC 27506. E-mail: harmons@mailcenter.campbell.edu. He is currently working on an annotated translation of Gregory of Nyssa's Oratio Catechetica Magna (Great Catechetica Oration).<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2001 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2003 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-62003004746139747042007-07-06T19:10:00.000-07:002007-07-06T19:21:07.377-07:00Slaves in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions<img src="http://www.ares.u-net.com/diegaul.gif"/><br /><br />Slaves in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions<br /><br />F. Scott Spencer<br />SLAVES IN THE NEW TESTAMENT: LITERARY, SOCIAL, AND MORAL DIMENSIONS. By J. Albert Harrill. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2006. Pp. xiv + 322. Cloth, $45.00.<br /><br />This fresh examination of slaves in the New Testament and early Christian writings is distinguished by careful comparative analysis of Greco-Roman discourses about family, society, and politics. Mining a stunning array of ancient literature--including rhetorical and agricultural handbooks, philosophical and judicial treatises, physiognomic and medical texts, and comedic and satirical dramas--Harrill uncovers a variety of stock literary representations of slaves that were widely used to "think with" about morality and core values. In one way or another, these slave stereotypes supported the dominant Roman ideology of auctoritas (mastery, authority), which denoted the "actual power" (versus ascribed status) a householder possessed to command obedience and devotion from his subordinates and respect and admiration from his peers.<br /><br />In the introduction, Harrill challenges standard assessments of Onesimus in Paul's letter to Philemon as a runaway slave (serous fugitivus). The correspondence shows no interest in the slave's personal plans or aspirations. Rather, along the lines of a "journeyman apprentice" contract, Paul petitions master Philemon to accept Onesimus as an apprentice in gospel ministry. The goal is not manumission, but redeployment of service.<br /><br />Chapters 1-2 deal with psychological and physical images of the Roman slave as backdrops for Paul's discourse. In Romans 7:7-25, Paul employs the rhetorical device of "speech-in character" (prostpopoiia), whereby he assumes a persona ("I") to illustrate his argument. According to Harrill, the "I" in this text represents a typical Gentile convert in the Roman church caught in an inner, slavish tug-of-war between the old master of Sin and the new master of Christ. This conflicted "slave self" retains in Roman ideology the agency to determine which master it will serve. Paul thus implores the Gentile Christians to resist the auctoritas of Sin over them. In 2 Corinthians 10:10, the slurs of Paul's opponents against his "weak body" and "contemptible speech" evoke the emasculated image of the cowering, sycophantic slave seeking to gain advantage through fawning gestures and flattering comments. Such rhetoric fits the Sophistic notion that physical appearance reveals essential character. Paul's rivals thus brand him as an unmanly, slavish opportunist unfit to exercise authority in the church. In return, Paul fires back with Socratic-Cynic logic that places ultimate value not in outward appearances (physiognomy) but in humble (tapeinos), rational pursuit of truth (philosophy). As a weak, suffering servant of Christ, Paul has been graced with "divine power to ... take every thought captive to obey Christ" (10:4-5).<br /><br />Chapter 3 correlates two characters in Luke-Acts with stock figures in Roman comedic theater. The slave-girl Rhoda in Acts 12:12-17 plays the slapstick part of the bungling "running slave" (serous currens), bursting with good news--which no one takes seriously--about Peter's arrival, while she absentmindedly leaves the apostle knocking at the gate. The conniving steward in Jesus' parable (Luke 16:1-13) enacts the dual role of "parasite" (parasitus) and "clever slave" (servus callidus), shrewdly manipulating his wealthy master's accounts for his own benefit and ultimately exposing his master as a rich fool. Both stories are entertaining literary fictions, in Harrill's view, designed to provide comic relief and dramatic contrast to the more sober, "realistic" incidents that follow (Acts 12:17; Luke 16:14-31).<br /><br />Chapters 4-6 consider deutero-Pauline and other post-apostolic writings in light of additional Roman slave types. First, the household codes governing master-slave relations in Ephesians and Colossians, far from advocating a liberating cultural revolution, reinforce the conventional advice of Roman farm handbooks. As the chief slave bailiff (vilicus) commanded subordinate slaves on the absentee householder's (pater familias) estate with both authority and accountability, so Christian masters must fairly and faithfully manage their slaves in the household of God the Father. Second, the black market slave-trader or men-stealer (andrapodistes)--an unscrupulous figure associated with greed, fraud, and immorality outside the legitimate Roman slave economy--functioned as an apt deviant label for heretical teachers in 1 Timothy 1:10; for the label to work, however, this text assumes and accepts lawful slave commerce. Third, the stock images of the "faithful slave," loyal to his master at all costs, and the "domestic enemy," who betrays his master for personal gain, inform early Christian apologetic and martyrological responses to Roman opposition. For example, in the Martyrdom of Polycarp, one of Polycarp's domestic servants, under torture, exposes the bishop to the authorities; on the other hand, in the Letter of the Churches of Vienne and Lyons, Blandina stands out as a noble slave martyr for Christ.<br /><br />In the final chapter and epilogue, Harrill turns to the modern era, tracking the battle for the Bible on both sides of the critical proslavery/abolitionist divide in nineteenth-century America. He demonstrates the difficulty, if not futility, in appealing to the Bible, especially its literalistic "plain sense," to settle complex moral debates. With respect to slavery, as far as he goes Harrill brilliantly elucidates the New Testament's basic complicity in the dominant ancient literary and rhetorical ethos of its day--and thus its limited ethical value for today. But he has seriously downplayed the religious and theological foundations of the text. Theology regularly trades on current metaphors, tropes, and symbols "to think with" about God, but with keen awareness of their ultimate inadequacy to capture divine truth. Images and personae of slaves and slave masters applied to God, Christ, and the apostle Paul do not so much undermine or subvert the system from which they derive (here Harrill makes his case) as overwhelm or burst it. "Plainly" identifying God's Son and humanity's Savior as both Lord/Master and slave/servant of all (cf. Mark 10:42-45; Phil 2:5-8), for example, provides enormously challenging and disorienting imagery with which to contemplate the mysteries of God and God's people in any age.<br /><br />F. Scott Spencer<br /><br />Baptist Theological Seminary<br /><br />3400 Brook Road<br /><br />Richmond, VA 23227-4538<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Biblical Theology Bulletin, Inc<br />COPYRIGHT 2006 Gale Group<br />Biblical Theology Bulletin > Winter, 2006 >Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-81983647689592769912007-07-06T18:50:00.000-07:002007-07-06T18:56:54.854-07:00Narrative insights into the crucifixion of Jesus in Luke<img src="http://www.christchurchdublin.ie/shop/images/byz_crucifixion.jpg"/><br /><br /><br />Narrative insights into the crucifixion of Jesus in Luke<br /><br />Carrie L. Lewis<br />In the crucifixion account, Luke 23: 33-43, Luke tells the story of a first-century man from Nazareth through whom God has chosen to make known the power of God to establish God's rule over the world and to call into question the power of the earthly rulers, both religious and political. Who really has power in this world? How is that power manifested? Do the rulers of the world have power over my life? Can I trust this Jesus who is telling me that the power of God is greater?<br /><br />[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]<br /><br />By the time the first hearers encountered the story of the crucifixion, they had traveled a long road with Jesus, a road that brought them to Jerusalem, where earthly power, both religious and political, was centered, a road that led to Jesus' arrest, sentencing, and now his crucifixion on the hill called the Skull. Along that road, they had "witnessed" Jesus calling disciples to follow him, breaking the laws of the Sabbath in front of the religious officials by working and healing on the Sabbath, performing miracles among the people of Israel and the Gentiles, and hearing Jesus preach, teach, and proclaim the coming of the kingdom of God. Now they stand at the foot of the cross, seeing Jesus hanging there between two criminals, and wonder how all that had been said and done before could be true. Has the power of the world finally overcome the power of God? Is Jesus really the anointed one?<br /><br />The answer to these questions begins to be revealed in the episode of the crucifixion through the most unlikely of sources: the soldiers and the evildoers who surround Jesus. Although they do not know that they are speaking the truth and do not intend to be speaking the truth, the truth about Jesus' identity is ironically revealed in the voices of these characters.<br /><br />In his narrative Luke shows that, through the crucifixion of Jesus, God turns the human understanding of power on its head. For Luke, the crucifixion of Jesus is not a payment for people's sins. He omits Mark's famous quotation "For the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (10:45). Rather, Jesus' healings and offers of forgiveness are a proclamation of God's reign and God's comprehensive saving purpose. (1) Salvation is restoration of God's people through the forgiveness of sins. (2) Jesus' death was the opportunity though which God's authority would be manifest.<br /><br />Through Jesus' ability to forgive and offer salvation, even at the time when Jesus appears to be powerless, Luke shows us that in the midst of apparent vulnerability and lack of power God continues to exercise authority in the world through Jesus.<br /><br />The question of forgiveness<br /><br />For whom is Jesus asking for giveness? As hearers enter this scene they are told that Jesus is crucified with two evildoers, one on his right and one on his left. Jesus takes the opportunity on the cross to ask God to forgive those who are executing him because they do not know what they are doing. Is he asking forgiveness for the Jewish leaders who have asked for his crucifixion? for the Roman soldiers who have carried out the death sentence? for the crowd who surrounds him but does not know what to say about the events that have transpired?<br /><br />Jesus has taught forgiveness and offered forgiveness throughout the journey of this story. In fact, it was forgiveness that first caused the Pharisees to question who Jesus was: "Who can forgive sins but God alone?" (5:21). Jesus had taught the disciples that if another disciple sinned against them they must forgive that disciple if that disciple repented, and if that disciple sinned seven times and repented seven times the disciples were to forgive seven times (17:34). At the crucifixion, however, Jesus asks God to forgive people when there is no sign of repentance. Those who are crucifying Jesus show no faith in Jesus, which has rendered forgiveness for others (5:20; 7:47), and they are definitely not showing any remorse for what they are doing.<br /><br />Forgiveness for the crowd. It is precisely because of the ignorance of the people that Jesus asks God for forgiveness. If the people had known who Jesus was, they would have repented. However, they neither heeded John's teaching to bear fruits worthy of repentance (3:8) nor understood that Jesus was the one of whom John had spoken when he said "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire" (3:16-17).<br /><br />Because they did not understand this teaching or who Jesus was, Jesus had to ask for their forgiveness. In the book of Acts, the apostles continue to preach and teach those whom Jesus classified as ignorant. The ignorant are given opportunities to see how God used the crucifixion to further God's plan, to repent, and to turn to God (Acts 2:22-36; 3:17-26), much like the remorse that the crowd who viewed the crucifixion expressed as "they returned home, beating their breasts" (23:48).<br /><br />The crowd does not know what to think at this point. Luke portrays them as unsure of what is happening before them as they stand in silence watching the one who they thought came with the power to heal them and save them but who now hangs on the cross under the judgment of the worldly rulers. Jesus has been shown the greatest of dishonor. Because Jesus is their leader and has been dishonored in this way, his followers also have been dishonored. (3) The crowd still supports their leader, but, faced with the unexpected, has fallen silent.<br /><br />Forgiveness for the Jewish leaders. The Jewish leaders understand their job to be preserving and defending God's honor. In their attempt to fulfill this duty, however, they have been blinded to an understanding of what their true role is and who Jesus is. Luke's portrayal of the ignorance of the Jewish leaders runs contrary to the general judgment by the New Testament writers that there was deliberate blindness and malevolence on the part of the Jewish authorities involved in the crucifixion. (4) When Jesus claims to have power to forgive sins (5:21), they fear that Jesus is lessening God's power, thus dishonoring God. When Jesus and the disciples gather grain on the Sabbath (6:1-5), and when Jesus heals on the Sabbath (6:6-11), these actions are seen as a threat to the power of God, as breaking God's laws and showing dishonor to God. The rulers are in awe of Jesus (5:26), some amazed by what he is doing but others waiting to catch him in something that he is saying (11:53-54). As time goes on and Jesus continues to teach and to heal, the Pharisees and the scribes do not recognize Jesus' revelation of God's power, and they grumble even more about what he is doing (15:2). This view of the ignorance of the Jewish authorities who are involved in the crucifixion is echoed by Peter in Acts 3:17.<br /><br />Forgiveness for the Roman soldiers. Whereas the Jewish leaders lack understanding, the Roman soldiers lack knowledge. They have not had the opportunity to hear the gospel and do not have a frame of reference to understand who this is that they are executing. They only know what others are claiming, and they join with those others in the ignorant ridicule of Jesus. Jesus does not show vindictiveness toward any of these persons. Rather Jesus asks God not to judge them but to forgive them for not knowing that this is God's action. (5)<br /><br />Why forgiveness now? In his Sermon on the Plain, Jesus teaches, "If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt" (6:29). He goes on to say, "But love your enemy, do good and lend, expecting nothing in return" (6:35). Jesus is living out what he has taught. Although he has been wrongly accused, he does not fight back but receives the beating of his enemies. Throughout Luke's account of Jesus' ministry. "Jesus showed tenderness to the stranger (the widow of Nain) and praised the mercy shown to the Prodigal Son and to the man beset by thieves on the road to Jericho; it is not surprising then that in his passion Jesus shows forgiveness to those who crucified him." (6)<br /><br />Reactions to the crucifixion<br /><br />The hearer comes into contact with three groups of people who have been important to Luke's story: the crowd, the Jewish leaders, and the Roman soldiers. Each of these groups has met Jesus at a different point on his journey and come to a different understanding of who Jesus is and why he is being executed. They have different reactions as they stand at the foot of the cross.<br /><br />Reaction of the crowd. The crowd has been encountered numerous times throughout the story. Although the crowds may not be the same people in all instances, their role is the same. They offer an audience for the teachings of John, Jesus, and the disciples. The hearer first meets the crowd at the Jordan with John the Baptist. The crowd has come to John to be baptized, and they ask him what they need to do to bear good fruit (3:10). John tells them to share their clothing and food with those who have none (3:11). He also tells them that there is one who is greater who is coming after him (3:16-17). When Jesus begins his public ministry, many of those who had been following John begin to follow Jesus, the one who is greater. The crowds continue to follow Jesus throughout the story, seeking him, desiring his healing and acts of exorcism. They are amazed by the power that Jesus exercises, and they continue to seek him out throughout his journey to Jerusalem in order that he might continue to perform these miraculous works to save their loved ones. People, such as those who witnessed Jesus' raising of the son of the widow at Nain, praised God, declaring Jesus a great prophet and saying, "God has looked favorably on his people!" (7:16). And again, when the blind beggar receives his sight, he praises God, as do all those around him (18:35-43).<br /><br />When Jesus declares judgment upon Israel in the synagogue at Nazareth (4:28), the crowds rise against him and seek his death. The people enjoy the power that heals them, but some are threatened by the power that judges them. They do not understand who Jesus is as an agent of God or that it is by God's power and authority that Jesus is accomplishing these miracles. John the Baptist sends two of his disciples to ask Jesus if he is the one who is to come (7:18-35). The people also try to make sense of who Jesus is by claiming that Jesus is John the Baptist resurrected, an appearance of Elijah, or a prophet of old that has arisen (9:7-9).<br /><br />This confusion among the crowd is apparent at Jesus' trial and crucifixion. This crowd, who has been following Jesus, seeking his healing, and hindering the efforts of Jesus' enemies to do away with him earlier (19:47-48; 20:19; 21:38; 22:2, 6), cries out for Jesus' crucifixion, which the Jewish leaders had plotted (23:13, 18, 23-26). (7) At the crucifixion, the crowd seems to be playing a neutral role.<br /><br />The crowd simply stands and watches what is going on around them. They are not ridiculing Jesus or defending him. They witness Jesus' death, but they do not mock him. Yet, as followers of this teacher, they are no longer honoring Jesus but are shaming him by their silence. Luke only mentions the passivity of the crowd, putting no value judgment on it. However, having witnessed Jesus' death and heard the centurion's declaration of Jesus as a righteous man (23:47), this crowd realizes what has actually happened before their eyes, and they are prompted to express remorse: "And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts" (23:48). (8) They express grief at the death of Jesus and perhaps also at the death of the hopes that they had had in him. This image of beating the breast takes the hearer back to Jesus' parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (18:9-14). In this story, the tax collector beats his breast in remorse for what he has done, begging that God be merciful to him, a sinner. So the hearer understands that the crowds are not only expressing their grief but also showing remorse for their actions in contributing to the crucifixion and for their inaction, silence, and dishonor of their teacher and leader.<br /><br />As listeners, we can sympathize with the crowd. We have been awed by Jesus' actions throughout Luke's story. We have stood before the cross feeling helpless, unable to understand how this could be happening if Jesus is, in fact, the Messiah. At the conclusion of this episode, we turn away from the cross, grieving the death of the one in whom we had such hope.<br /><br />Reaction of the Jewish leaders. The Jewish leaders include the chief priest, the Pharisees, and those who have consistently opposed Jesus. Now, with method and opportunity joined with motive, they have plotted for Jesus' death. (9) The rulers are no longer threatened by Jesus' words or actions that they believed were showing dishonor to God (5:21; 6:1-11), and they are no longer afraid of Jesus' followers (22:2). They are sure that the power that they wield as rulers has won the battle against this one who blasphemes. Throughout the journey, the hearer witnesses the jealousy and rage that the rulers have had for Jesus. The rulers have felt threatened by him and by his ability to save, to forgive, and to cast out demons, and they have been offended by his choice to work, heal, and gather food on the Sabbath and to break other laws of impurity. In their opinion, Jesus is threatening God's honor and defying their role as defenders of that honor.<br /><br />Although Jesus sits at table with Pharisees at various times throughout the journey, teaching and preaching, it is the powerful whom he is rebuking. When he eats with the Pharisees and the lawyers, he rebukes them for their practices, for neglecting God's love, for ignoring God's wisdom, and for hindering those who were entering into God's wisdom (11:37-54). The Pharisees and lawyers became hostile toward Jesus because of his rebuke, and now they see Jesus' crucifixion as their chance to scoff at him in return.<br /><br />When Jesus appears to be powerless and completely vulnerable the leaders take the opportunity to mock ([TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII]) him. This word is used only in Luke's Gospel, only twice, and only with reference to what was said by the Pharisees and the rulers to Jesus--once when Jesus speaks out against their improper use of power and money (16:14), and again here (23:35). It literally means to turn one's nose up at. Previously, the leaders had not felt the freedom to mock Jesus in public because of the crowds that surrounded him, and they had worked in secret to find a way to gain some authority over him (22:2). Now that Jesus is in a place of vulnerability, these leaders are able to "turn their noses up at" Jesus, doing what they see as their duty to defend God's honor. (10) In mocking Jesus, the rulers are shaming him, the one who has been honored by the people and has been putting the rulers to shame. This is their chance to turn the tables, to dishonor Jesus as they believe Jesus has dishonored them, and tear Jesus down in the ultimate act of shame, crucifixion outside of the city.<br /><br />Specifically, the rulers use the healing acts of Jesus against him by calling on him to save himself as he saved others (23:35). When Jesus is rejected in Nazareth, he says, "Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, 'Doctor, cure yourself!'" (4:23). Here, at the cross, the rulers are doing just that. They call out sarcastically, "Others he has saved. Let him save himself" (23:35). If Jesus truly is the anointed one, the one chosen by God, should he not be able to save himself? The hearer begins to think that maybe this is how Jesus will conquer the powers of earth.<br /><br />Reaction of the Roman soldiers. The soldiers standing in front of the cross represent the Roman government, and they have been asked to crucify this man whom people have claimed to be the king of the Jews (23:3). When Jesus was on trial, the soldiers ridiculed Jesus because of this claim (23:11).<br /><br />These soldiers also mark the end of the hopes of the Jewish people that Jesus would be the one to overthrow the Roman government and gain power for the people of Israel once again. When Jesus was presented as a baby at the temple, Simeon declared God's saving purpose through Jesus:<br /><br />Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,<br /> according to your word;<br />for my eyes have seen your salvation,<br /> which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,<br />a light for revelation to the Gentiles<br /> and for glory to your people Israel.<br />(2:29-32)<br />Because of the teachings and miracles of Jesus throughout his life, people believed that Jesus must be one chosen by God to free them from Roman rule. Thus, shortly before Jesus' crucifixion, he was welcomed into Jerusalem as royalty. People lined up on the road as Jesus rode in on a colt, and they lay their cloaks on the road before Jesus as they would for a royal procession. The people cried out: "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!" (19:38) But now, as Jesus is being crucified, their hope that he will rule as king is being shattered by these Roman soldiers. This one who was to gain power over Rome is being shamed in the most significant way by the soldiers.<br /><br />The soldiers cast lots for Jesus' clothing, leaving Jesus to hang naked, the most shameful of conditions, on the cross. (11) The soldiers then begin to mock Jesus in both action and word. They offer him sour wine to mock his royalty, and, like the religious leaders, call to him, "If you are the king of the Judeans, save yourself!" These outsiders are mocking Jesus by calling him a king. (12)<br /><br />The charge for which Jesus was killed was that he opposed Roman rule by establishing himself as king over the Jews. (13) This understanding of regal kingship takes the hearer back to the examination by Pilate (23:3), who asks if Jesus is the king of the Judeans. It is then repeated on the sign that is hung over Jesus' head on the cross (23:38). (14) It appears to the soldiers that this one who was to have such power over them has no such power. The soldiers have been given the authority to remove this problem from their midst, and in this action they are also showing the Jewish people that, as Roman soldiers, they are the ones who truly have the power and the authority. This increases the tension within the hearer who struggles with the abuse of authority by the Roman soldiers and with the hearer's own desire for Jesus to save himself in this critical hour.<br /><br />Reaction of the first evildoer. The tension continues to build as one of the criminals being crucified with Jesus derides him as well. "Are you not the anointed one? Save yourself and us!" Because he calls Jesus "the anointed one," it can be inferred that he is of Jewish descent. But, because of the sarcastic tone with which he speaks to Jesus, the hearer understands that the evildoer does not really believe that Jesus is the anointed one. Because of this callous disrespect for Jesus, Luke remarks that this evildoer is blaspheming Jesus. (15)<br /><br />The question of salvation<br /><br />Can Jesus save his own life? The unifying factor among the Jewish leaders, the Roman soldiers, and the first evildoer is that they are challenging Jesus' power and authority by taunting him to come down from the cross. Luke makes it clear through their language that these people do not believe that Jesus can actually come down or cause anyone else to do so. Through this use of language, Luke sets the hearer up for the greatest action of God. Because the hearer does not yet know what this action of God will be, the sarcastic attitude seems to contradict the expectations of Jesus as Savior heard in the first chapters of Luke. There the angel Gabriel announces to Mary that "'[Jesus] will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end'" (1:32-33). But here, on the cross, Jesus is losing his life.<br /><br />"The paradox revolves around the fact that if Jesus would have saved his life, he would have indeed lost his life." (16) For in telling his disciples what becoming his followers would entail, Jesus said to them that "those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it" (9:24). In Luke's view, it is precisely the fact that Jesus cannot save himself that makes him "The Anointed One," the "King of the Judeans." For Luke, "the proof that Jesus is God's Christ lies precisely in his rejection and death." (17) Luke repeatedly states that it is necessary for the Son of Man to die (9:22, 17:25, 24:7), but for Luke what is most important is to identify Jesus as "The Anointed One" as was claimed at the announcement of Jesus to Mary (1:31-33, 35). Therefore, Luke argues that "the Christ must suffer (24:46; Acts 3:18; 4:25-28; 26:23), and this is according to God's providence, "according to the Scriptures" (Luke 24:26-27, 45-47; Acts 18:28). According to Jerome Neyrey's understanding of Luke, "Jesus cannot escape death since he is holy and appointed. If he is truly God's Christ, he cannot save himself." Even if Christ cannot save himself, "it is unthinkable that the Christ is not saved." God saves Jesus ultimately by raising him from the dead. "The person whom God vindicated was God's designated 'Leader and Savior' (Acts 5:31). Jesus' heralded role as 'Savior of Israel' (Luke 2:11) is vindicated by God's saving him." Jesus could not be the Savior for others had God not saved him. "His holiness and obedience, which constitute him as God's Christ, will ultimately be salvific for himself in his resurrection and will constitute him as Savior of others." (18)<br /><br />The irony of the salvation challenge. The words of the Jewish leaders, the Roman soldiers, and the first evildoer, although spoken sarcastically in an attempt to shame Jesus, prove to be true. Jesus has saved others, and the hearer soon will find that Jesus saves the evildoer who repents. As God's chosen one, Jesus has the power to heal and rescue others, and he does so as is evidenced throughout Luke's narrative of Jesus. Jesus is proved to be the Christ only if he does not save himself, and yet by not saving himself he will in fact save others. (19)<br /><br />The rebuke of the second evildoer. The second criminal reframes what the reality of the situation is. Jesus has done nothing wrong, and the second evildoer recognizes this. He also recognizes that he and the evildoer who rebuked Jesus are receiving what they deserve based on their action, or they are receiving their "just" sentence ([TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII]). This idea comes back to the hearer a few verses later when the centurion offers another confession of Jesus' innocence as he declares Jesus' righteousness ([TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII]) (23:47).<br /><br />The promise of paradise<br /><br />The request for remembrance. The second criminal does not ask to be saved from death. He also does not address Jesus by a title or function as the others had. Instead, he calls Jesus by name, an action of sincerity and intimacy, "an address used elsewhere in the Gospels in a friendly manner only by the blind beggar of Jericho." (20) He asks Jesus to remember him when Jesus comes into his kingdom. To "remember" ([TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII]), according to Jewish tradition, was something that was asked of God on behalf of the dead. Many funerary inscriptions ask for the dead to be "remembered" or to be placed with the righteous at judgment. (21)<br /><br />With this understanding of "remember," this second evildoer may understand Jesus as being from God. He seems to understand that Jesus has power, even though he does not understand how that power will be manifest. He declares faith in Jesus even if Jesus does not perform a great act of earthly salvation at that moment. He declares Jesus innocent, demonstrates the fact that Jesus has power to save, and connects power to Jesus' future kingdom in spite of his shameful death on the cross. Once again, it is through an outcast that believers are shown unique insight. (22) "Some saw Jesus raise the dead, and did not believe. The [evildoer] sees Him being put to death, and yet believes." (23)<br /><br />Jesus responds to the plea for remembrance. Although this evildoer has done something deserving of death, Jesus promises that he will find a place with him "today" in paradise. In contrast to having to ask God for forgiveness of those who have not repented, Jesus is able to forgive this one who has repented. "In the midst of [Jesus'] suffering unto death we hear a personal and transformative promise." (24)<br /><br />When is "today"? The use of time in Luke's narrative is very important. In many cases, Luke takes great pains to give us a time of reference for when things are occurring, especially with relation to who is in governmental and religious power (25) and where on the timeline of the Jewish calendar things are happening. (26) However, there is also a sense of immediacy that can be found in Luke. For example, the angels declare to the shepherds that "to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord" (2:11). (27) In addition, Luke's use of the word "today" portrays the immediacy of God's actions through Jesus.<br /><br />Throughout the story, when Jesus declares a work of God, what Jesus says happens in the very act of speaking. For example, when Jesus reads from Isaiah, he sits to teach the people and says, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing" (4:21). In Jesus' reading of the scripture, Jesus was anointed to bring good news to the poor and to release captives. Again, when Jesus visits Zacchaeus, Jesus proclaims, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham" (19:9-10).<br /><br />But it is not only for the living that salvation is granted in the here and now. In Judaism, deliverance will come at the consummation of God's reign. (28) However, in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (16:19-31) the hearer comes to know that the dead also have immediate rewards and punishments. Lazarus is immediately taken to Abraham's bosom upon his death, and the rich man is immediately sent to Hades to be tortured. The evildoer had no expectation of a reward to be given that day but rather at the time of judgment in the parousia. Because of the evildoer's confession of faith in the face of imminent death, Jesus granted him a place of honor that he would receive that same day. So, for Luke, salvation is not simply a radically future experience but an experience to be had in the present. (29)<br /><br />Where is paradise? The word paradise, or garden, came into Greek from Persia and initially had no eschatological context. Later it came to have the connotation of an eschatological garden or the "abode of the righteous." (30) Thus Jesus is granting this evildoer precisely what he had asked for, to be with the righteous, including Jesus, when he came into his kingdom. The twist comes in that Jesus grants that request today. In confessing Jesus as the righteous king, this evildoer experiences victory in the midst of his greatest trial and immediate deliverance through this king. Herein lies the ultimate irony: the one who showed sincerity and hope in his confession not of salvation in the here and now but of the remembrance of Jesus in the future is the one who receives the reward of salvation after Jesus' death. (31)<br /><br />This declaration of Jesus also gives the hearer hope. The one who could not save himself but could only be saved by God has the power to save even to his dying breath. Jesus is the one who holds the power to save, even when it looks like all of his power has been revoked.<br /><br />The hearer is left with hope<br /><br />At the end of this episode, the hearer is still hoping that Jesus will find a way to get down from his cross. Jesus does not deserve to die. And yet, in this episode, the criminal, who may never have known Jesus before that very moment, has shown faith in him. He has recognized Jesus as the righteous one and sincerely made a difficult request--for an eternal reward, being remembered in Jesus' kingdom, salvation. Jesus sees the sincere repentance of this evildoer and shows compassion to him, promising him a place in paradise. The hearer is able to relate to this evildoer, the one who deserves the sentence that Jesus is suffering but who realizes his evil doings and asks to be remembered. The hearer can then sincerely turn to Jesus as the evildoer did, repent, and ask to be remembered in Jesus' kingdom. Jesus promises to be with that evildoer and with us, and in that promise there is hope--the hope revealed to us in Jesus' resurrection in the final chapter of Luke's Gospel.<br /><br />The apparent vulnerability of Jesus on the cross calls into question how this one whom God sent can possibly save the people. It seems that the powers of the world have overtaken the powers of God. And yet, this episode offers hope. Jesus asks for forgiveness for those who have crucified him and shows that he still has power in the last, painful moments of his earthly life by offering the promise of paradise to the evildoer. Jesus did not lose hope but trusted in God even when it appeared that he was in a hopeless situation. All hearers, therefore, should not lose hope but trust in God. Jesus has made good on his promises, bringing good news to the poor and offering healing to those who are in need. In the moment of his greatest vulnerability, when those with earthly power show that they have the power to condemn Jesus to death, God saves Jesus, and through God's saving of Jesus offers salvation to others.<br /><br />Carrie L. Lewis<br /><br />Holy Trinity Lutheran Church<br /><br />Newton, Iowa<br /><br />pastorhtlc@iowatelecom.net<br /><br />1. Robert Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts: A Literary Interpretation. Volume 1: The Gospel according to Luke (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 89.<br /><br />2. Luke Timothy Johnson, The Gospel of Luke, Sacra Pagina, ed. Daniel J. Harrington, S.J. (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1991), 380.<br /><br />3. Bruce J. Malina and Jerome H. Neyrey, "Honor and Shame in Luke-Acts: Pivotal Values in the Mediterranean World," in The Social World of Luke-Acts: Models for Interpretation, ed. Jerome H. Neyrey (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1991), 60-61.<br /><br />4. Raymond E. Brown, "The Passion according to Luke," Worship 60 (January 1986): 7.<br /><br />5. Darrell Bock, Luke, Volume 2 (Grand Rapids: Baker Exegetical Commentary, 1995), 1849-50.<br /><br />6. Brown, "The Passion according to Luke," 3.<br /><br />7. John T. Carroll, "Luke's Crucifixion Scene," in Reimaging the Death of the Lukan Jesus, ed. Dennis de Sylva (Frankfurt am Main: Anton Hain, 1990), 111.<br /><br />8. Carroll, "Luke's Crucifixion Scene," 112.<br /><br />9. Carroll, 111.<br /><br />10. Bock, Luke, Volume 2, 1851-52.<br /><br />11. Bock, Luke, Volume 2, 1850.<br /><br />12. Bock, 1853.<br /><br />13. Richard J. Cassidy, Jesus, Politics and Society: A Study of Luke's Gospel (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1978), 72.<br /><br />14. Bock, 1853.<br /><br />15. Bock, 1854.<br /><br />16. Joan Mueller, Is Forgiveness Possible? (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1998), 12.<br /><br />17. Jerome H. Neyrey, The Passion according to Luke: A Redaction Study of Luke's Soteriology (New York: Paulist, 1985), 141.<br /><br />18. Neyrey, The Passion according to Luke, 141-42.<br /><br />19. Neyrey, 142.<br /><br />20. Brown, "The Passion according to Luke," 7.<br /><br />21. Bock, Luke, Volume 2, 1856.<br /><br />22. Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke. 2 vols. The Anchor Bible Commentary (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985), 2:343.<br /><br />23. Bock, 1856.<br /><br />24. John W. Ehman, "Luke 23:1-49," Interpretation 52 (January 1998): 75.<br /><br />25. For example, "In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness" (3:1-2).<br /><br />26. For example, "After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child" (2:21).<br /><br />27. Other examples of immediacy in Luke can be found in 5:26; 13:21-33; 22:34-61.<br /><br />28. Bock, Luke, Volume 2, 1856.<br /><br />29. Neyrey, The Passion according to Luke, 138.<br /><br />30. Bock, 1858.<br /><br />31. Bock, 1858.<br /><br />COPYRIGHT 2005 Lutheran School of Theology and Mission<br />COPYRIGHT 2005 Gale GroupUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-24231702055967512622007-07-06T18:41:00.000-07:002007-07-06T18:47:00.088-07:00"Like a Gleaming Flash": Matthew 6:22-23, Luke 11:34-36 and the Divine Sense in Origen<img src="http://www.garstang.us/images/illustrations/HerodLampLitRt.jpg"/><br /><br />"Like a Gleaming Flash": Matthew 6:22-23, Luke 11:34-36 and the Divine Sense in Origen<br /><br />Hauck, Robert J<br />While the modern maxim says that the eye is the window of the soul, Jesus said that the eye is the lamp of the body. This essay relates one of the more opaque Gospel sayings to one of the distinctive themes of Origen's spiritual theology. In his interpretation of Jesus' saying that "The eye is the lamp of the body," Origen finds a reference to the mind, which serves as eye of the soul. In the context of Hellenistic theories of vision, which represent the eye as a light-emitting organ, Origen argues that the mind reaches out its ray to coalesce with the light of the Logos to produce vision for the soul. His interpretation provides insight into his understanding of how the divine sense works and its role as a faculty of spiritual perception. <br /><br />Origen of Alexandria is one of the founders of Christian spiritual theology, and his doctrine of the divine senses provides a unique and influential contribution to that tradition. Origen believed that the soul has spiritual senses analogous to the five physical senses. Through these spiritual senses, the soul perceives divine rather than physical truths. This notion has provided both a fertile field for the development of mystical theology, and has stimulated a number of questions about his thought. <br /><br />In a similar vein, Jesus' parable about vision in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 6:22-23; Luke 11:34-36) proves to be both puzzling and stimulating. Jesus' proverbial statement that the eve is the lamp of the body flies directly in the face of the modern maxim, which asserts that the eye is the window of the soul. In what way can the eve be considered a lamp, and what kind of light might it provide? How did people in the prescientific world of antiquity understand this passage? This essay examines Origen's interpretation of this passage and argues that it contributes to a fuller understanding of his view of the divine sense of vision and how it works. The parable also provides an example of how this passage was interpreted in early Christianity. <br /><br />The Eye is the Lamp of the Body <br /><br />In what is a Q-logion (Matthew 6:22-23; Luke 11:34-36), Jesus says that the eye is the lamp of the body. The two canonical versions1 of the saying are: <br /><br />Matthew 6:22-23: The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is sound, your whole body is full of light; but if your eye is not sound, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness! <br /><br />Luke 11:34-36: Your eye is the lamp of your body; when your eye is sound, your whole body is full of light; but when it is not sound, your body is full of darkness. Therefore be careful lest the light in you be darkness. It then your whole body is full of light, having no part dark, it will be wholly bright, as when a lamp with its rays gives you light. <br /><br />Modern commentators have struggled with this passage, at least partly because it does not harmonize with contemporary understandings of the physics and physiology of vision.2 For moderns, the eye is the window of the soul, since we know that the eye contains a lens which acts as a window to transmit light from outside the body to the interior of the eye.3 Often, modern interpreters have simply adapted the ancient proverb to modern understandings, and Jesus' lamp becomes the modern window. Barclay, for example, says: <br /><br />The eye is regarded as the window by which the light gets into the whole body. . . . If the window is clear, clean, and undistorted, the light will come flooding into the room, and will illuminate every corner of it. . . . So, then, says Jesus, the light which gets into any man's heart and soul and being depends on the spiritual state of the eye through which it has to pass, for the eye is the window of the whole body.4 <br /><br />According to Mounce, "In the physiology of Jesus' day the eye was thought of as a window that brought light into the body."5 <br /><br />Recent critical scholarship has, however, changed the context for interpreting this passage. Hans Dieter Betz bas argued that this saying presupposes ancient theories of vision that provide a setting far different from those provided by modern optics and physiology. Betz surveys Greek philosophical treatments of vision and notes two dominant views. Parmenides, Empedocles, and Plato hold the "extramission" view in which vision occurs through an effluence from the body-light flows out from or through the eye to the object. The "intromission" theory, depending on Democritus, holds that atoms flow from the object into the eye. Betz concludes that the Jesus saving implicitly rejects the latter view and presupposes the former.6 The definition of the eye as a lamp reflects what can thus be considered the proverbial notion that light flows out from the eyes-the eye is a lamp because, like a lamp, it produces and emits light. <br /><br />Dale Allison, in response to Betz, agrees that the context for the saying and its proverbial quality are ancient understandings of the eye as a light-producing organ. It is analogous to the sun, and its flashing gaze is similar to flashes of lightning or the rays of the sun.7 The glowing eyes of animals at night, the gaze as a beam directed at the object, and the dangerous sweep of the evil eye all reflect this view. However, he argues that this should not be limited to the Greek philosophical tradition. Rather, there is a wide background in antiquity in general, and in biblical and other Jewish literature in particular, of viewing the eye as a source of light. According to Allison, as a Q-logion, the earliest form of this saying accepts the extramission theory of vision as a commonplace-the eye is a lamp that produces and transmits rays or beams of light from inside out.8 As Via says, the statement "the eye is the lamp of the body" would strike the ancient reader as both a truism and a scientific fact: "This reader would experience a succinct statement of conventional wisdom, one accorded in a straightforward way with the current theory of vision. The eye in fact is a lamp."9 <br /><br />Origen <br /><br />Origen's interpretation of this passage provides us with both an engagement with ancient understandings of vision and an application of these understandings to the spiritual interpretation in which Origen is interested. It particularly allows us to see how contemporary understandings of vision inform his understanding of the divine sense. If the eye, which is a lamp, is a model for the eye of the soul, what does this tell us about Origen's understanding of the way the mind knows divine truth? Origen asserts three things about this passage.10 First, he makes clear that this saying should be primarily understood as referring to the relationship between the intellect and the soul rather than the eye and the body. Although Jesus' parable seems to rely on the function of the eye as a lamp or source of light, Origen asserts an allegorical meaning: by eye Jesus means mind,11 and by body he means soul. "In the strict sense," he says, "Scripture calls our mind an 'eye'" (Fragmenta in Lucam 79). Origen is willing, however, to interpret this passage as an allegory applying to the church. "Some say," he writes, "that the lamp of the body is the eye' refers to one who teaches the church" (Fragmenta ex commentariis in evangelium Matthaei 126). He gives it this meaning in his homilies on Joshua: in the new dispensation, he says, the Levites represent those perfect souls who illuminate others in the church. Laypeople should provide such wise teachers with the necessities of life so they have time for the law of God. Origen says: <br /><br />And if they do not have time and do not devote their work to the law of God, you are endangered. For the light of knowledge that is in them will be obscured, if yon do not supply oil for the lamp. . . . And also this that the Lord said will he fulfilled in you: "For if the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness." You fulfill your duty; fulfill the commandment of God in relation to the service of the priest.12 <br /><br />In the Matthew fragments, however, Origen rejects this interpretation, since it fails to take into account the individual moral exhortations which follow in the Sermon on the Mount. He focuses instead on the application to the intellect in the individual soul: "Seek how," he says, "the body is now named the soul, and the eye is the mind" (Fr. Matt. 125). The intellect, Origen says, is the clear-sighted or perceptive faculty of the soul (Fr. Matt. 125, Fr. Luc. 78). And, he says, "you should not be surprised if in the verse, 'the lamp of the body is the eye,' we take the body as a figure for the soul" (Fr. Luc. 79). <br /><br />So, first of all, Origen interprets this passage in terms of intellect and soul, rather than eye and body. Second, in interpreting this passage he argues that the intellectual eye, the mind, is indeed a lamp. His interest here is that the mind, like the physical eye, emits rays or beams that illuminate. If, as Jesus says, the whole body is full of light when the eye is sound, this is because, says Origen, the "body" (that is, the soul) is "illuminated by the lamp of the body" (Fr. Luc. 79). "Its [the mind's] rays can be compared to a lamp with a gleaming flash; the lamp illumines, but it does not dispel the darkness. For, illumination from the mind is like a gleaming flash, and the light in the body is like a lamp with gleaming rays" (Fr. Luc. 79). <br /><br />This language of the eye as a lamp with gleaming rays places Origen's comments in the context of the Hellenistic philosophical discussion of vision. How sensation and perception are related to the movement from sensation to knowledge was one of the central issues in the development of Middle Platonism, as well as a significant area of debate between the Academy and the Stoa. Vision was a standard topic in the second-century handbooks of Platonism such as those of Alcinous and Apuleius.13 Embedded in this debate is the Platonic understanding that the eye is a light-emitting organ. <br /><br />While Parmenides is the first to be credited with asserting that the eye is a lamp or source of light, it is Plato's treatment that is foundational for Middle Platonists in the second and third century.14 Plato describes the creation of the "light-bearing eyes" in the creation account in the Timaeus: <br /><br />For [the gods] caused the pure fire within us, which is akin to that of day, to flow through the eyes in a smooth and dense stream, and they compressed the whole substance, and especially the center of the eyes, so that they occluded all other fire that was coarser and allowed only this pure kind of fire to filter through. So whenever the stream of vision is surrounded by mid-day light, it Hows out like unto like, and coalescing there with it forms one kindred substance along the path of the eyes' vision, wheresoever the fire which streams from within collides with an obstructing object without.15 <br /><br />Plato here expresses agreement with a common view, with foundations in Empedocles and Parmenides, that the eye or an organ within the body produces a ray or beam, and that vision occurs when the ray or beam from the eye meets that produced by an object. For Plato, sunlight is the other necessary ingredient, and when the three rays meet, an impression is conveyed to the soul by the eye. Theophrastus characterizes Plato's views in this way, "The organ of vision [Plato] makes to consist of fire; . . . assuming then that there is this effluence and that effluence and organ must unite, he holds that the visual stream issues forth for some distance and coalesces with the effluence, and thus it is we see."16 According to Beare, in this view: <br /><br />Seeing takes place in the virtue of a coalescence between (a) the rays of the intra-ocular light emanating from the eyes to some distance into the kindred (illuminated) air; (b) that which, reflected from external bodies, moves to meet it; and (c) that which is in the intervening air, and which, owing to the diffusibility and nimbleness of the latter, extends itself in lines parallel with the fiery current of vision.17 <br /><br />Philo provides a representative example of this view. The sun, he says, "[surrenders] its power of burning hut [retains] that of giving light [so that it] might meet and hail its friend and kinsman, the light which is stored in the treasury of our eyes; for it is where these converge to meet and greet each other that the apprehension through vision is produced."18 As Theophrastus puts it, among the Platonists this becomes the "common and hoary doctrine" (Sens. 1.37). The handbook of Alcinous, contemporary with Origen, says, "Having placed upon the face the light-bearing eyes, the gods enclosed in them the luminous aspects of fire. . . . This flows out with the greatest ease through the whole of the eyes. . . . This becomes blended with the external light, like to like, and produces the sensation of sight" (Epit. 18). Apuleius likewise reports on the state of the question in these terms: "Or should we accept the view maintained by other philosophers that rays are emitted from our body? According to Plato these rays are filtered forth from the center of our eyes and mingle and blend with the light of the world without us; according to Archytas they issue forth from us without any external support" (Apologia 15). <br /><br />Vision was important in subsequent philosophical debates, and in developments within Platonism.19 Aristotle rejected Plato's view, arguing that vision depends neither on light emitted from the eye, nor on a ray from the object entering it. Rather, it depends on the transparent medium between the eye and the object. The substance of the eye is moved by the object through the intervening medium.20 The Stoics, in large part following Aristotle, likewise saw perception as occurring in the medium between the object and the eye. For the Stoics, the medium is the pneuma, and pneuma, like fire, originates in the eye and emanates from it. In this view, pneuma from the eye makes contact with the intervening pneuma and transforms it into a sensory medium. Vision occurs by the activation of the pneuma by the flow from the eye. Mathematical theory about vision likewise reflected the notion that rays or beams are emitted by the eye. Euclid argued that rays emanate from the eye geometrically, forming a cone that has its point in the eye and its base at the object.21 Ptolemy developed this mathematical approach, describing the visual cone which results from the rays emitted from the eye. Whether visual theories at this time reflected Aristotelian or Stoic views based on the activation of the medium between the object and the eye, or Platonic theories about the coalescence of light emitted by the sun. the eye, and the object, they share the notion that streams, rays, or beams flow from the eye. The eye, many argue in the second and third centuries, is a lamp. And, for Origen, if the eye is a lamp for the body, the intellect which it signifies is the light-emitting lamp for the soul. When Origen applies Jesus' proverbial statement about the eve to the mind, he turns to the language of ray, beam, or flash. <br /><br />Third, in addition to applying this passage to the soul, and arguing that the intellect is a lamp which illuminates it, Origen applies Jesus' saying to the "divine sense," In several places in his writings Origen asserts that wise and inspired people such as the prophets and the apostles possess a "divine sense" analogous to the physical senses, by which they perceive divine things. His proof text for this is Proverbs 2:5, which he quotes in Against Celsus, On First Principles, and elsewhere.22 When he comes to the language of vision in Luke, he quotes it here as well: <br /><br />From them [the Scriptures] you will he able to avoid stumbling over the explanation of what "the body" means in the verse, "the lamp of the body is the eye," and in other passages like this one. In the Book of Proverbs, you will find the phrase, "divine sense-perception," recorded in a promise (as distinct from perception that is not divine) (Fr. Luc. 78). <br /><br />Origen is usually credited with the development of this notion, and, as Rahner argues, his source for it seems to be biblical.23 Although the eve of the soul language is widespread through Platonism, Origen speaks of the divine sense in a distinctive way. The question remains whether he is simply extending Platonic metaphorical language about the eye of the soul, or whether he views the divine sense as a mental organ or faculty that has a role in the apprehension of intelligible truth. His interpretation of this saying of Jesus and his engagement here with contemporary understandings of vision suggest that he understands the divine sense as a faculty in the soul, and provides insight into his understanding of how it works. <br /><br />For Plato, and for Platonists of Origen's day, the description of the eye as a lamp served as instructive analogy for nonphysical or intellectual perception. In Plato, Philo, Origen, and others, the illuminating power of the eye is analogous to the enlightening power of knowledge, and discussion of the perceptive ability of the senses serves as a means of understanding the cognitive power of the intellect. Since for Plato and Platonists. both vision and knowledge are based on the principle that like is known by like, vision is closely linked with knowledge. The illuminating and perceptive power of the eye served at least as a metaphor, and sometimes as a direct analogy, to the illuminating power of the Good in the intelligible universe, the enlightening power of the intellect in the soul, and the relationship between the intellect and the Good. <br /><br />Plato provides the examples on which later Platonists build. In the myths of the divided line and the cave, the sun rules over the visible world and makes knowledge possible through vision. The Good, or the forms, rule over the intelligible world, and make knowledge through the intellect possible. For Plato, "as the good is in the intelligible region to reason and the objects of reason, so is [the sun] in the visible world to vision and the objects of vision" (Respublica 508 D). In the myth of the cave, the light from the fire in the cave and the sun in the sky are representative of the intellectual light from the good which makes true knowledge possible. Socrates says, "When seen it [the idea of the good] must needs point us to the conclusion that this is indeed the cause for all things of all that is right and beautiful, giving birth in the visible world to light, and the author of light and itself in the intelligible world being the authentic source of truth and reason" (Resp. 517 C). <br /><br />For Platonists, then, it is a commonplace that the mind is the eve of the soul.24 And, according to Dillon, for Middle Platonists after Alexander of Aphrodisias, light and its relation to vision was "used as analogy for the role of the Good (or in Alexander's theory, Nous) in the activation of the human intellect in its cognizing of True Being."25 To see the true, the real, the good, one must purify, strengthen, and elevate the eye of the soul so it can participate in the intellectual light which shines above it. <br /><br />Philo exemplifies this approach well. He uses the language of vision to represent intellectual knowledge, and draws a parallel between the way the eye functions in relation to the visible world and the way the intellect functions in relation to the intelligible world. In vision, for Philo, light from the eye coalesces with rays from the sun, and "apprehension through vision is produced" (Deus 79). While this consists of a reception of light from the sun, it is also an extension of the light from the eyes. Hearing, says Philo, is "sluggish" and "womanish," but sight is active. "The eyes," he says, "have the courage to reach out to the visible objects and do not wait to be acted upon by them, and anticipate the meeting, and seek to act upon them instead" (De Abrahamo 150). For Philo, as for both Plato and Origen. this serves as a parallel to the way in which true knowledge is produced. The intellect is the corresponding faculty of intelligible perception. It receives light from above and in this reception knowledge of God is produced, which illumines the soul. Philo says: <br /><br />For as sight holds the leading place in the body, and the quality of light holds the leading place in the universe, so too in us the dominant element is mind. For mind is the sight of the soul illuminated by rays peculiar to itself, whereby the vast and profound darkness, poured upon it by ignorance of things, is dispersed (Deus 45). <br /><br />The "pure rays of wisdom" illumine the soul, "through which the sage sees God and his potencies." says Philo (Deus 3). <br /><br />Celsus, the Platonist critic of Christianity to whom Origen replies in Against Celsus, holds a similar view of vision and true knowledge. Using the eye of the soul language, and drawing on the myth of the cave in the Republic, Celsus says: <br /><br />Thought is concerned with what is intelligible, the eye that which is visible. Accordingly what the sun is to visible things, being neither the eyes nor sight, but the cause of the eye's vision and the existence of sight and the possibility of seeing visible things, and is in fact itself the thing which enables itself to be seen, this is what God is to intelligible things. He is neither mind nor intelligence nor knowledge, but enables the mind to think and is the cause of the existence of intelligence and the possibility of knowledge (Cels. 7.45). <br /><br />Origen agrees with Celsus on this point: "We are careful," Origen says, "not to raise objection to any good teachings" (Cels. 7.46), although Origen asserts that the notion of the eye of the soul was introduced first by Moses rather than by the Greeks.26 In this framework, then, the eye is a lamp whose light combines with that of the sun and the object to produce perception. It is also a metaphor for the intellectual knowledge of the soul, where the good shines like the sun and produces knowledge of the real or the true. It is in this context that Origen interprets this saying: when Jesus says the eye is a lamp, Origen has both a physical and intelligible context in which to understand him. <br /><br />Origen, Matthew 6.22-23, Luke 11.35, and the Divine Sense <br /><br />How does Origen interpret the Gospel saving, and what does this tell us about the divine sense? Origen approaches this saying of Jesus in the context of contemporary theories of vision and his doctrine of the divine sense. The fragments that deal with this passage are closely related to other areas of his writings that deal with these topics, especially the discussion of vision in On First Principle, the use of the Proverbs passage on the divine sense, and the discussion of the divine sense in the Dialogue with Heraclides. Origen's primary interest is in the illumination of the soul and the role of the mind, in its character as a lamp, in obtaining knowledge and governing the soul and its passions. He applies this passage to the development of his notion of divine senses. The lamp/eye signifies the reasoning or intellectual part of the soul. The body is the "rest of the soul," its powers or faculties, including its passionate and appetitive parts. Just as the body has parts, says Origen, so the soul has powers, such as sight and hearing.27 The body, in representing the soul, represents this collection of faculties or senses. Origen applies to the Luke passage his scriptural warrant for his doctrine of the divine senses. Proverbs 2:5: "You shall find in Proverbs, the 'divine sense'" (Fr. Luc. 78). He invokes here his doctrine of homonomy: "Indeed," Origen says, "we find the powers of the soul are equated to the bodily parts by homonomy" (Fr. Luc. 78, my translation).28 The eye is indeed a lamp, which, as a part of its perceptive function, emits light and enlightens. However, the eye that he is interested in is the inner eye. What can be understood of the physical eye refers, by homonomy, to the intellectual or spiritual eye, the intellect in its perceptive function. In this sense, like the bodily eye, the intellect illumines the soul and its lower faculties. "Illumination from the mind," says Origen, "is like a gleaming flash" (Fr. Luc. 79). <br /><br />For Origen, then, the mind, the perceptive faculty of the soul, operates like the eye by emitting intellectual light that illumines the soul and coalesces with the divine light from above. His treatment of this passage relies on-and contributes to-contemporary Platonic understanding of vision and cognition. The intellect, as a lamp, emits a ray, beam, or flash that enlightens the soul and coalesces with the divine light coining from above. As an eye/lamp, the intellect has the essential elements of vision. Origen, commenting on Jesus' command to set one's lamp upon a lampstand, refers to "those who have in their souls a clear-sighted mind that participates in him who says, "I have come into the world as light.' "29 <br /><br />This coalescence, in which like is known by like, serves as an explanation of the operation of the divine sense.30 Higher perception is the apprehension of truth in the intelligible realm by the intellect. The intellect is the cognitive faculty, receiving illumination from above and enlightening the soul. "To see and be seen," he says, "is the property of bodies; to know and be known is an attribute of intellectual existence."31 "The names of the organs of sense," he says, "are often applied to the soul, so that we speak of seeing with the eyes of the heart, that is, of drawing some intellectual conclusions by means of the faculty of intelligence" (De Principiis 1.1.9). Mental vision operates as a coalescence. In this case divine truth is the effluent which meets the intellectual rays of the mind and produces knowledge: <br /><br />Each of the bodily senses is appropriately connected with a material substance towards which the particular sense is directed. . . . Does it not appear absurd then that these inferior senses should have substances connected with them, as objects towards which their activities are directed, whereas this faculty, the sense of the mind (mentis sensui), which is superior to them, should have no substance whatsoever connected with it? . . . They are unwilling to have it understood that there is a certain affinity between the mind and God, of whom the mind is an intellectual image, and that by reason of this fact the mind, especially if it is purified and separated from bodily matter, is able to have some perception of the divine nature (Princ. 1.1.7). <br /><br />Origen agrees with Philo that the mind is the sight of the soul. For Philo, while the eye of the soul is incapable of gazing on the brilliance of God, the illuminating rays proceed from the mind and enable the soul to perceive intelligible and rational truths.32 For Origen, likewise, the direct radiance of God is too overwhelming for the eye of the mind. However, the Logos illuminates the mind with its rays, which coalesce with the rays reaching out from the intellect that is turned away from the darkness of the body, The intellectual eye is a lamp, albeit a small one: "When it strains after incorporeal things and seeks to gain a sight of them it has scarcely the power of a glimmer of light or a tiny lamp" (Princ. 1.1.5). Nevertheless, as a perceptive faculty, the intellect is the eye of the soul, or as Jesus put it, the lamp of the soul/body. <br /><br />Like the bodily eye, the medium of the eye of the soul is light-although here it is the divine and intelligible light. Rather than physical light, the mind receives the illumination of divine wisdom. By means of a divine light it perceives divine truth. "Does it not then appear absurd," says Origen, "that these inferior senses should have substances connected with them, as objects towards which their activities are directed, whereas this faculty, the sense of the mind, which is superior to them, should have no substance whatever connected with it" (Princ. 1.1.7). Like physical vision, this perception has to do with light: "He is that light, surely, which lightens the whole understanding of those who are capable of receiving truth" (Princ. 1.1.1). The eye of the intellect is not capable of sustaining a vision of God, anymore than the physical eye can look directly at the sun. But the Son of God is himself that light which illumines the intellect, "This brightness [of the Son] falls softly and gently on the tender and weak eyes of mortal man" (Princ. 1.2.7). <br /><br />As the eye's vision is enabled by the light of the sun, the intellect's knowledge of divine things is illumined by the light of the Son of God. "The sun s the light of the world perceived by the senses. . . . .The savior, on the other hand, is the light of the spiritual world, because he shines on those who are rational and intellectual, that their mind may see its proper visions."33 As the "light of the world," the savior "does not illuminate corporeal natures. He illuminates the incorporeal intellect with an incorporeal power, in order that each of us, being illuminated as though by the sun, may also be able to see other intelligible things" (Comm. Jo. 1.164, my translation). The savior, says Origen, "is the 'light of men' and 'true light' and 'light of the world' because he enlightens and illuminates the intellect of men" (Comm. Jo. 1.181). The intellect thus has the essential elements of vision. As a lamp it directs its ray or beam upward, away from the body, and it coalesces with the light of the Logos to produce knowledge and illumination. <br /><br />This is the sense that Jesus' saying makes for Origen. Like the eye, winch Jesus said is the lamp of the body, the intellect is the perceptive Faculty of the soul. In the same way that the eye produces light that illuminates the body, so the intellect is an illuminating presence in the soul. "The enlightenment from the mind," Origen says on this passage, "is like a brilliant flash, and the light in the body is like a lamp with gleaming rays. The body is by nature darkness, a thing to be led where the mind wills" (Fr. Luc. 79).34 <br /><br />Modern commentators conclude that Jesus' use of what is either a proverb or commonly held knowledge-that the eye is the lamp of the body-turns the issue away from a Greek scientific or philosophical framework to a moral one.35 While Origen retains the moral concern, for him this is equally a spiritual question: how can the soul ascend to the knowledge of God? The soul must lift its eye away from the lower realities in order to receive the divine light from above, and extend its ray to meet the light of the Logos. Within the Middle Platonic context of how vision occurs, Origen reflects on how the divine sense works. Like the eye with its sight, the mind must maintain its ability to reach out its ray to meet the illumination from above.36 For him the moral imperative does not have to do with the health or wholeness of the physical eye, or even the moral disposition in relation to generosity or simplicity, but rather the strength and capacity of the intellectual eye. "When our mind is a lover of matter," says Origen, "then the light in us is darkness" (Fr. Matt. 128). The enlightening flash of the mind consists of the establishment of the rule of the intellect over the lower parts of the soul. <br /><br />For, illumination from the mind is like a gleaming flash, and the light in the body is like a lamp with gleaming rays. The body is by nature darkness, a thing to be led where the mind wills. So, if the minds of those who are unlearned and ignorant, which are by nature light, are in fact darkness, then the whole body is too-that is, the passionate part of the soul, which is the spirited and appetitive part, and the darkness is much worse (Fr. Luc. 178). <br /><br />The moral dimension certainly is present-the present age, Origen says, is night for the saints-but his solution is intellectual. In the present darkness, our "noetic nature must be a lamp" (Fr. Matt. 125). <br /><br />One of the lingering questions regarding Origen's views of the divine sense is whether his understanding of this is metaphorical, that is, whether this is a way to illustrate intellectual knowledge of the intelligible world; or whether he thinks there are actually such faculties in the human soul.37 The catenae on the Matthew and Luke passages provide evidence that he considers the divine sense to be an actual faculty of the soul and a help in understanding how the divine sense works. Origen turns to contemporary theories of vision to interpret Jesus' language regarding the eye as a lamp. He uses the mechanics of vision and applies them to the divine sense in a concrete way. This provides us with additional insight into how the divine sense works. Bodily vision works by the communication of rays of light: the eye is a lamp, sending out its beams. The sun emits an illuminating beam, as docs the object of perception. The coalescence of these three sources of light produces perception of the physical object in the eye. Likewise, the mind is a lamp, and the object of its illumination is the "entire soul"-all of the powers or faculties of the soul. The light of the savior and the light of the intellect coalesce and produce knowledge and illumination for, as Origen says, the whole soul. As the eye is the lamp of the body, so the mind, the organ of the divine sense, is the lamp of the soul. <br /><br />Origen's treatment of this passage sheds light on a number of theories of vision and their place in the development of Platonism in the second and third centuries. Further, his work highlights early approaches to interpreting this otherwise obscure Gospel saying. Perhaps most important, his treatment illuminates a key element of his spiritual theology. For Origen, the soul possesses a spiritual sense that sheds its bright light "like a gleaming flash" on its lower faculties and mingles with the light of the Logos from above, so that like might be known by like. <br /><br />1 A version also appears in the Gospel of Thomas 24: "Whoever has ears, let him hear. There is light within a man of light, and he (or: it) lights up the whole world. If he (or: it) does not shine, he (or: it) is darkness." Translation by Thomas O. Lambdin, in The Nag Hammadi Library, ed. James M. Robinson (San Francisco, Calif.: Harper and Row, 1981). <br /><br />2 Hans Dieter Betz notes that a moratorium on academic discussion of this passage was proposed by early twentieth-century German scholars, and that it was declared "the most difficult to interpret in the entire Gospel tradition." Hans Dieter Betz, "Matthew vi.22f and Ancient Greek Theories of Vision," in Ernest Best and R. Mcl. Wilson, eds., Text and Interpretation: Studies in the New Testament presented to Matthew Black (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 43. <br /><br />3 The origin of the modern proverb is obscure. Jowett's translation of Plato's Phaedrus has Socrates referring to the eyes as the windows of the soul, but the Greek refers to an inlet or entrance rather than a window (Phaedrus 255C, The Dialogues of Plato, trans. Benjamin Jowett, vol. 1 [New York: Random House, 1937]). Leonardo da Vinci says that the eye is called the window of the soul (Notebook 653). More importantly for English speakers, Shakespeare calls the eye the window of the heart (Love's Labour's Lost, V.2.848). <br /><br />4 William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew, vol. 1, rev. ed. (Philadelphia, Pa.: Westminster Press, 1975), 245. <br /><br />5 Robert H. Mounce, Matthew (San Francisco, Calif.: Harper and Row, 1985), 56. <br /><br />6 Betz argues that the saying represents a Jewish critique of the philosophical theory of vision. It assumes the extramission theory, but rejects the notion that physiology alone allows the eye to see. Rather, it imposes a moral condition for vision. Betz, "Matthew vi:22f," 54. <br /><br />7 Dale C. Allison, Jr., "The Eve is the Lamp of the Body (Matthew 6.22-23 = Luke 11.34-36)," New Testament Studies 33 (1987): 61-83. <br /><br />8 Allison argues that "the eye is the lamp of the body" is a proverbial saying, and the moral exhortation of Luke 11:36 was added (even in Q) us an interpretation of the proverb. He says, "Luke 11:36 is evidence that at least the earliest interpreter of the saying about the eye as a lamp understood it in terms of the extramission theory of vision." Allison, "Eye is the Lamp," 79. <br /><br />9 Dan Via, "Matthew's Dark Light and the Human Condition," in The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament (Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1994), 356. See also Margaret R. Miles, "Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind in Saint Augustine's De Trinitate and Confessions," Journal of Religion 63 (1983): 125-142. <br /><br />10 Our knowledge of Origen's interpretation of this passage is fragmentary. His commentary on this saying is lost in both the Matthew and Luke commentaries, but appears as Greek fragments in the catenae. He also refers to it in his homilies on Numbers, Leviticus, and Joshua. The fragments used here for Matthew are fragments 125-128 in Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller, Origenes Werke, Zwölfter Band (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs Verlag, 1941). Fragments on Luke used here are fragments 78 and 79 in Origène. Homélies sur S. Luc, introduction, translation, and notes by Henri Crouzel, François Fournier, and Piérre Perichon, Sources Chrétiennes 87 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1998). English translation of the Luke fragments, except where noted, is that of Joseph T. Lienhard, Origen: Homilies on Luke; Fragments on Luke, Fathers of the Church 94 (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University Press of America, 1996). There are questions about the reliability of the catenae in general, including the Luke fragments. See, for example, Ronald E. Heine, "Can the Catena Fragments be Trusted?" Vigiliae Christianae 40 (1986): 118-134. Fournier likewise notes that it is difficult to establish the authorship of the Luke fragments (François Fournier, "Les Homélies sur Luc et leur traduction par Saint Jérôme," in Crouzel, Homélies sur S. Luc, 5-92). However, Fournier does include our fragments among those least doubtful, and Lienhard accepts them (Lienhard, Homilies on Luke, pp. xxxvi-xxxviii). The argument of this essay shows the coherence between the Luke fragments and other writings of Origen. <br /><br />11 Origen often uses the terms nous (or intellect), the Stoic term hegemonikon, and dianoia (or reason) interchangeably. He means the governing or higher part of the soul, which rules the passions, but is distinct from the spirit. See Henri Crouzel, Origen, trans. A. S. Worrall (San Francisco, Calif.: Harper & Row, 1985), 89; Crouzel, Origène et la "connaissance mystique" (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1961), 382-395. <br /><br />12 In Jesus Nave homilae xxvi 17. Translation is that of Barbara J. Bruce, Origen: Homilies on Joshua, ed. Cynthia White, Fathers of the Church 105 (Washington, D.C., Catholic University Press of America, 2002). <br /><br />13 See Alcinous Didaskalikos [Handbook of Platonism] 18 (hereafter Epit.) and Apuleius Apology [Apologia] 15.11. English translations used here of Alcinous are from John Dillon, Alcinous: The Handbook of Platonism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). English translations of Apuleius are those of H. E. Butler, The Apologia and Florida of Apuleius of Madaura (Oxford: The Clarendon Press. 1909). <br /><br />14 See Robert M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen: Middle Platonism in Transition (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1984), 167-200; David C. Lindberg, Theories of Vision from Al-Kindi to Kepler (Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 1976), 1-17. <br /><br />15 Timaeus 45 B. English translation of Plato's works used here is that of the Loeb edition: R.G. Bury, Plato (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1975). <br /><br />16 De Sensu [On the Senses] 1.5. English translation is from George Malcolm Stratton, Theophrastus and the Greek Physiological Psychology before Aristotle (New York: Macmillan, 1917). <br /><br />17 Quoting Stobaeus. John I. Beare, Greek Theories of Elementary Cognition from Alcmaeon to Aristotle (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906), 44. <br /><br />18 Quod Deus immutabilis sit [That God is Unchangeable] 79 (hereafter Deus). English translations of Philo are those of the Loeb edition: F. H. Colson and G. H. Whitaker, Philo in Ten Volumes (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1954) <br /><br />19 Berchman makes the argument that this is the determinative element in the development of Middle Platonism. From Philo to Origen, 187. <br /><br />20 See Lindberg, Theories of Vision, 7-9. Lindberg notes the essential agreement between Plato and Aristotle on the necessity of a medium. <br /><br />21 Rudolph Siegel, Galen on Sense Perception (New York: Karger, 1970), 30-36. <br /><br />22 For a list of texts and excerpts see Karl Rahner, "The 'Spiritual Senses' According to Origen," in Theological Investigations 16 (New York: Seabury Press, 1979), 81-103; and Hans Urs von Balthasar, Origen: Spirit and Fire, trans. Robert J. Daly (Washington, D.C.; The Catholic University of America Press, 1984), 218-257. For treatment of the divine sense in Origen, see also Berchman, From Philo to Origen, 169; Berchman, "Arcana Mundi between Balaam and Hecate: Prophecy, Divination, and Magic in Later Platonism," SBL Seminar Papers 28 (1989): 107-185; John M. Dillon, "Aisthêsis Noêtê: A Doctrine of Spiritual Senses in Origen and in Plotinus," in Hellenica et Judaica: Hommage à Valentin Nikiprowetzky, ed. A. Laquot, M. Hadas-Lebl, and J. Riauad (Leuven: Editions Peeters, 1986), 445-455. <br /><br />23 See Rahner, "Spiritual Senses," 82-83. Dillon agrees that Origen's motivation in developing this doctrine is primarily exegetical, but argues that he also relies on Platonist speculation, perhaps going back to Philo (Dillon, "Aisthêsis Noêtê," 453-455). <br /><br />24 Celsus provides a good example: "If you shut your eyes to the world of sense and look up with the mind, if you turn away from the flesh and raise the eyes of the soul, only so will you see God" (Contra Celsum [Against Celsus] 7.36). Henry Chadwick, Origen: Contra Celsum (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965). <br /><br />25 John M. Dillon, "Looking on the Light: Some Remarks on the Imagery of Light in the First Chapter of the Peri Archon," in Charles Kannengiesser and William L. Petersen, eds., Origen of Alexandria: His World and His Legacy (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1988), 220. <br /><br />26 See Crouzel, Connaissance, 153. <br /><br />27 See Crouzel, Connaissance, 150. <br /><br />28 Origen develops this notion fully in the Dialogus cum Heraclide [Dialogue with Heraclides], and uses it to explain the five divine senses that correspond to the physical senses (Dial. 16). For English translation, see Robert J. Daly, trans., Origen: Treatise on the Passover and the Dialogue of Origen with Heraclides, Ancient Christian Writers, no. 54 (New York: Paulist Press, 1992). <br /><br />29 Fr. Luc. 121e, on Luke 8:16. For this fragment see Max Rauer, Origenes Werke, Neunter Band, Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1959). <br /><br />30 Dillon notes that Origen is concerned with the unknowability of God, and hence modifies the Platonic view on the vision of God. Origen is reluctant to accept the Platonic view of the incorporeality of light. He is influenced by the simile of the sun and of the cave, but in his adaptation of Platonic doctrine preserves the inability of the mind's eye to gaze directly on God. Dillon, "Looking on the Light," 219-229. <br /><br />31 De principiis 1.1.8. English translation is that of G. W. Butterworth, Origen: On First Principles (Gloucester, Mass.: Peter Smith, 1973). <br /><br />32 Philo, De Opificio mundi [On the Creation of the World], 71. See Dillon, "Looking on the Light," 227. <br /><br />33 Commentarii in evangelium Joannis [Commentary on John] 1.160-161. English translation is that of Ronald E. Heine, Origen: Commentary on the Gospel According to John, Books 1-10, Fathers of the Church, vol. 80 (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1989). <br /><br />34 See Crouzel, Connaissance, 150. <br /><br />35 Betz argues that the context is Greek, and Jesus introduces the moral setting. Allisun argues that the notion of the eye as source of light or fire is well established in Jewish literature in Jesus' time, and the ethical dimension is already in place. Betz, "Matt. vi.22f," 54-55; Dale C. Allison. Jr., "Eye is the Lamp," 69-71. <br /><br />36 Scholars in the last century debated whether Origen should be seen primarily as a speculative philosopher who was interested in a philosophical system (see Eugene de Faye, Origen and His Work, trans. Fred Rothwell [New York: Columbia University Press, 1929] or a mystic focused on the soul's ascent to God (see Walther Völker, Das Vollkommenheitsideal des Origenes [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1931]). Recent scholarship has noted that this polarization between philosophy and mysticism produces a false dichotomy, especially in relation to Christian and non-Christian thinkers of the second and third centuries. While this older debate is not the subject of this paper, the argument here shows that both philosophical and spiritual interests are in play. It attempts to demonstrate the way philosophical language used in contemporary debates is used by Origen to pursue his exegetical and spiritual interests, and indicates that Origen was both a Christian theologian and a philosopher. <br /><br />37 See Rahner, "Spiritual Senses"; and Dillon, "Aisthêsis Noêtê", 443-455, and "Looking on the Light," 219-220. Both Rahner and Dillon tentatively argue that as this doctrine unfolds in Origen, he develops it into actual faculties of the soul. <br /><br />ROBERT J. HAUCK* <br /><br />* Robert J. Hauck is Assistant Professor of Religious Studies at Gonzaga University. <br /><br />Copyright Anglican Theological Review, Inc. Fall 2006<br />Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights ReservedUnknownnoreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-7066161650799664002007-07-06T18:28:00.000-07:002007-07-06T18:37:26.806-07:00NARRATIVE FUNCTION OF THE TEMPLE IN LUKE-ACTS, THE<img src="http://studythescriptures.net/files/Temp%20Site%20Home%20Page/1anbsc%20jlem%20hpg_Resized_518x378.jpg"/><br /><br /><br />NARRATIVE FUNCTION OF THE TEMPLE IN LUKE-ACTS, THE<br /><br />Fay, Ron C<br />Typically, discussions concerning the temple in the NT revolve around the theological issues to the neglect of the literary or narrative aspects.1 In the same way, narrative analyses of Luke-Acts typically focus on characters: Jesus in Luke and the early church or Paul in Acts. Rarely is a character or literary theme traced through the double work as a whole. This results in an unintentional negation of the supposed unity of Luke-Acts. This article will trace the temple throughout all of Luke-Acts, demonstrating that Luke contains a drive toward the temple and Acts describes motion away from and then back to the temple. Thus, the temple functions as the literary center of Luke-Acts in a geographical sense, with the followers of Christ firmly anchored there. While scholars have dealt broadly with NT treatments of the temple,2 with one arguing that Jesus is the fulfillment and replacement of the temple in the Gospel of John,3 this article will concentrate on the temple's narrative function. This study of the temple will first examine Luke and Acts. Rather than citing every mention of the temple and Jerusalem, only the major relevant passages will be considered in order to show the general concept.4 Next this author will argue that Jerusalem and the temple are closely interconnected, thus exploring Jerusalem in Luke-Acts as well. Finally, this article will suggest some possible implications and avenues for further study. <br /><br />I. THE TEMPLE IN LUKE <br /><br />The temple figures prominently in the first two chapters of Luke's gospel. The birth announcement of John the Baptist occurs in the temple, as the angel visits Zechariah in Luke 1:21-22. In fact, the only location explicitly mentioned within the pericope is the temple itself. Immediately after the birth of Jesus, Mary and Joseph take him to the temple in 2:22-52; note particularly 2:27 and 2:37. The next pericope deals with the celebration of the Passover Feast, after which Jesus remains at the temple in order to discuss the Torah.5 These early narratives of John and Jesus clearly delineate the temple as a focal point of their coming. With John's birth foretold at the temple and with Jesus' only childhood stories centering around the temple (with the exception of his birth and flight to Egypt), the gospel seems to anticipate the temple as an important place in the coming narrative.6 Simeon's prophecy of salvation coming from Jesus gives narrative significance as it occurs in the temple itself.7 The temple appears as a literary thread binding together the birth narratives of Jesus and John and serving as a focal point for their respective ministries.8 The temple as "my Father's house" foreshadows the future role the temple will play in Luke.9 <br /><br />Lk. 19:38, which makes reference to Jesus as the King, indicates that it is as Messiah that Jesus takes possession of the Temple. The Temple, therefore, is the Messiah's place. It is the proper place for Jesus to carry out his important messianic work of teaching. Unlike Mark, Luke does not condemn the Temple because the Messiah has arrived. Rather, the Messiah restores the Temple, rendering it fit to fulfill its eschatological role as a decisive center of God's saving work.13 <br /><br />If the temple had in fact functioned as the place of rejection, one would expect Jesus to teach either outside the temple or somewhere completely separated from the temple in order to represent the contrast between his ministry and that of the cultus. The explication of the teaching accounts in 20:1-21:38 demonstrate the final defeat of Jesus' opponents occurring on the temple grounds, a point quite different from the parallel in Mark 11:11-13:37.14 This portion of Luke, from the triumphal entry until the point of the betrayal, revolves around the temple itself, and makes the reader aware of the temple as a place of personal significance to Jesus like no other place in the gospel since his visit in 2:41-50. Far from portraying it as a symbol of rejection, Luke's treatment represents a cleansing and reclaiming of the temple. <br /><br />The temple functions as a key location throughout Luke.20 It occurred in the earliest passages, anticipating what was to come in the gospel. Luke, in a narrative sense, transformed the entrance into Jerusalem into a parade to the temple, once again putting the temple at the forefront of the activity, which culminated in its cleansing.21 Although one would not expect to find the temple central to the crucifixion, especially since the action takes place elsewhere, it is notable that Luke recalls it at Jesus' death and after the ascension. While this article has not discussed every passage dealing with the temple, the major portions covered make a compelling case for the geographic location of the temple as a narrative focal point.22 <br /><br />II. THE TEMPLE IN ACTS <br /><br />The next major portion of narrative in which the temple appears details Paul's arrest and the subsequent retellings.30 Acts 21:26-30 tells of Paul going to the temple in order to fulfill a vow. The Jews accuse him of allowing a Gentile into the temple precincts, at which point a riot ensues. Paul is then taken by the Romans and imprisoned. The verses leading up to this cast the account ironically, since Paul took this vow to demonstrate his allegiance to the temple cultus (21:24). While the reaction of the Jews is obviously problematic, it is interesting to note that Paul's "downfall," much like that of Jesus, occurs at the temple.31 In his defense before the crowd in 22:1-21, Paul asserts that he received a vision while in the temple.32 That this vision occurs in the temple demonstrates its importance to the narrative, even though Luke places this out of chronological order by Paul's retelling of the near-riot and his defense. Note the recurrences in 24:5-18; 25:7-12; and 26:2-23, which also deal with the charges against him of violating the temple. The temple is then central in the trials before various officials, and the Jewish leaders repeated this allegation more than once in order to keep him imprisoned. The temple continues as a center of action throughout Acts, even as the narrative apparently moves away from Jerusalem. <br /><br />In Acts, the temple conveys many different thematic elements. It functions as the focus of the early church since it is central to the religious life of the church as a gathering place. As argued above, the first five chapters of Acts seem to revolve around the temple, with most of the major action occurring in the temple proper or in its immediate vicinity. One is unable to find any malice or lingering illwill on the part of the believers against the temple itself, based upon Luke's narrative. In the Pauline sections, the temple returns to prominence after a significant narrative gap.33 Throughout, the temple is a positive symbol for Paul, even though he is the "apostle to the Gentiles." Thus, the temple in Acts functions as a focal point, yet it seems to bookend Acts instead of playing a central role. <br /><br />III. JERUSALEM IN LUKE <br /><br />Scholars agree that the middle section of Luke, namely chs. 9-19, focuses in part on Jesus' drive toward Jerusalem.36 The transfiguration story of Luke 9:31 sets the stage for the rest of 9-19.37 Both Elijah and Moses understand what is about to happen, so the path of the story is foreshadowed by this conversation. Walker says, <br /><br />After only five chapters dealing with the Galilean ministry Jesus "sets his face towards Jerusalem" (9:51). Throughout the ensuing "travel narrative," Jerusalem is frequently mentioned as the goal of Jesus' journey (13:33-5; 17:11; 18:31; 19:28).38 <br /><br />The journey toward Jerusalem has two important features. First, it is the longest portion of the book, dwarfing the birth narrative and early ministry sections as well as the final week and crucifixion scenes.39 Second, it causes the reader of the narrative to interpret events differently than one might otherwise. Jesus does not perform miracles for reasons unknown; he does not try to validate who he is at that moment. Rather, each pericope in Luke 9-19 must be understood in relation to this journey toward Jerusalem. The didactic elements and narrative asides should not distract the reader from the ultimate goal, nor do they detract from the narrative impetus.40 In fact, some scholars argue that the various elements in Luke 9-19 actually build up the tension of the journey.41 <br /><br />Within the broad category of Jesus' sayings, only two passages will be discussed: namely 13:33-35 and 21:8-28 (noting especially vv.20-24).42 The first passage, 13:33-35, known as the "Lament Over Jerusalem,"43 often is viewed as the first prophecy regarding the destruction of Jerusalem, for in it Jesus speaks of "your house being left desolate."44 Remarkably, Luke is the only evangelist to include 13:33, a unique defense of Jesus' journey to Jerusalem: specifically he goes in order to die.45 In this pericope, Luke begins to utilize Jerusalem to refer to its people. It likely stands for the Jewish leadership and the opposition to Jesus' own ministry especially in light of Jesus' comments regarding the killing of the prophets.46 The second passage relates to 13:33-35 due to the subject matter. In 21:8-28, Luke records his version of the Olivet Discourse. Both Mark and Matthew avoid specific reference to Jerusalem in their versions, but Luke mentions Jerusalem twice (21:20, 24) and uses it as a sign.47 Luke places the name of the city on both sides of an allusion to Jeremiah 51, which refers to David's city.48 Most commentators view this as a prophecy concerning the destruction of Jerusalem, generally assuming it refers to A.D. 70.49 The destruction of the leading city of Israel links 13:33-35 with 21:20-24.50 Thus, Jerusalem remains at the center of the narrative, even if in a poor light. <br /><br />Obviously, the crucifixion itself and the events immediately leading up to it occur in and around Jerusalem.51 After the resurrection, however, one would assume that the narrative could move away from Jerusalem and back to Nazareth or Galilee (as in Matt 28:10 and John 21:1). Luke instead maintains Jerusalem as the setting for the post-resurrection accounts (note 24:13,18,47, 52), even though he likely knows of other appearances of the risen Christ.52 This suggests that he wishes to keep the location static, especially considering how he differs from Mark. While this presents no difficulty in terms of accuracy, it may indicate a deliberate choice on Luke's part, which in turn affects his narrative (and possibly theological) agenda.53 Even the story about two men leaving the area is peppered with explicit references to the city (24:13, 18, 33). Thus Jerusalem begins and ends the story, forming an inclusio that keeps the reader focused on the city even when the story moves away from it.54 The next mention of Jerusalem occurs in 24:47. While it anticipates the Gentile mission, it seems grammatically awkward due to the insertion of the phrase, "beginning at Jerusalem." Marshall states, <br /><br />The reading which best explains the other variants is to be preferred generally, so keeping the phrase makes the most sense. Once more this sets up Jerusalem as the center of the action. The final mention of the city occurs in 24:52, leading the narrative back to Jerusalem for the conclusion of the gospel. This group of texts strengthens the idea that Jerusalem lies at the heart of the narrative flow of Luke's gospel. <br /><br />Luke begins and ends in Jerusalem.56 While the actual birth of Jesus does not occur in Jerusalem, his dedication does. Luke is the only gospel writer who includes the story of the dedication at the temple and the meetings with Simeon and Anna. The story of Jesus remaining at the temple when his parents had left uses Jerusalem three times, giving it a near-poetic feel, driving home the emphasis in Luke 2 on the city. The middle portion of Luke, chs. 9-19, tells the story of Jesus as he journeyed toward Jerusalem, with phrases such as Luke 9:53, "He was heading for Jerusalem," appearing over and over again. The two sayings about Jerusalem, given by Jesus, focus on the catastrophic events which would soon unfold, but both hold the importance of David's city in front of the reader. Finally, the accounts of the post-resurrection appearances of Christ to his followers are limited to the city and the immediate surrounding area. The gospel of Luke points Jesus toward Jerusalem and then keeps his followers there. <br /><br />IV. JERUSALEM IN ACTS <br /><br />One of the key verses in the entire book is Acts 1:8, which features the mission statement or outline of the book as a narrative.57 These words of Jesus inform the reader from the beginning that the narrative will begin in Jerusalem and move out from there.58 The reader expects, then, to find the beginning of the book dominated by Jerusalem, and Luke obliges.59 The apostolic activity of the book begins in 1:12 (with a mention of Jerusalem) and remains in the city until 8:1.60 Chapters 2-4 center on what the apostles, and especially Peter, do there. They preach the gospel message and heal people within the confines of Israel's most prominent city. Even when brought before the leaders for a trial, the work of the apostles springs forth from the lips of their adversaries.61 The last explicit mention of the city in this section occurs in 6:7, which contains a summary statement for the opening chapters of the book.62 <br /><br />Acts 8:1 introduces the man who will become Paul the apostle, though it begins with the persecution of the church in Jerusalem, which causes the believers to scatter. The reader should expect the geographic location of the narrative to shift and for mentions of the city to diminish. Instead, one finds more references to the place of Jesus' death. While Acts 8:26-27 serves as the beginning of the story of the eunuch, 8:27 specifically mentions that he came to Jerusalem to worship. Although revealing the man as a God-fearing Gentile, it was an unnecessary detail since the city was also mentioned previously in 8:26.63 The story of Saul's conversion and subsequent time with Ananias also draws upon the Jerusalem motif, as Saul seeks to take any prisoners he finds back to Jerusalem, and Ananias acknowledges Saul's persecution of the believers there. Other believers also mention his persecution of those in the city in 9:21. Later Saul goes to Jerusalem himself in order to meet with the leaders of the church. Throughout this section, the importance and leadership of the church in Jerusalem arises again and again.64 Even as the narrative moves away from the city, it continues to play a role in the development of the plot. <br /><br />Furthermore, the authority of the Jerusalem church emerges in 11:1-30, as the church leaders talk to Peter and send Barnabas from Jerusalem to see what is happening in Antioch.65 Each step in the process regarding how this new faith is to be understood and practiced has ties to the decisions and locale of Jerusalem. This theme culminates in the council of Acts 15, where the various leaders of the church gathered to make decisions pertinent to and binding on the catholic church. That the Jerusalem church delivered a ruling cannot be doubted; the authority of Jerusalem over the church appears absolute.66 Halfway through the book of Acts, the narrative still centers on Jerusalem even though the program of Acts laid down in 1:8 indicates that the story would move elsewhere. <br /><br />From the Jerusalem council on, the book of Acts concentrates mainly on the character of Paul. His first journey, found in 13:4-14:28, ends with Paul in Antioch, but the story quickly drives Paul to Jerusalem. His next trip contained in 15:40-21:16 concludes with his arrival in Jerusalem, 21:17. His two major trips both start at Antioch and end with him in Jerusalem.67 Acts 19:20-21 provides a turning point in the narrative, as 19:20 summarizes the conquest of the Word of God. After 19:20, the only mention of the Word of God occurs in Paul's speech to the Ephesian elders.68 Presumably the Word of God has finished "conquering," so Paul now intends to return to the main stage of this drama, Jerusalem. From this point on, the tone of the narration changes, and one recalls Luke 9-19 where Jesus travels to Jerusalem. Just as Jesus went to Jerusalem knowing what was to come, so Paul journeys there with ample warning of his coming fate.69 As with Jesus, Jerusalem becomes the narrative downfall of Paul, as his arrest there exemplifies. References to the city occur repeatedly in his defenses, and much of the action (such as the plot on Paul's life in 25:1-7) revolves around Jerusalem as the crux of the events. Even in the last chapter of the book, Luke records how Paul was arrested in Jerusalem. Although it is no longer the setting for the story, Jerusalem still functions as a place around which the narrative takes place. <br /><br />It is clear now that the course of Acts hinges on the use of Jerusalem. The story begins in Jerusalem, and through the first half of the book it remains there.70 The apostles feel no need to leave the city and continue to meet within Jerusalem. Not until the persecution arises at the hands of Saul and the Jewish leaders do the believers begin to spread out from the city. Even with that, the leadership of the fledgling church remains, sending its rulings to the Christian Diaspora. Paul, now a missionary, carries out his ministry, traveling all over the known world, though he consistently returns to Jerusalem at the end of his journeys. Paul is then arrested in the city and taken to trial, but even then Jerusalem lies at the center of the conflict that carries the story. Jerusalem serves as the narrative center of Acts with all of the activity either moving away from or drawing back to Israel's chief city. <br /><br />V. A NARRATIVE THEME <br /><br />This article has proposed that the temple functions as the narrative center of Luke-Acts, but while the temple serves as the hub of the cultus, the center point of God's presence on earth, Jerusalem, is the seat of the Davidic dynasty, the place where Jewish kings once ruled. Beale argues for a unity of thought here, noting that the function of ruler and of priest were often combined in ANE thought and therefore in ANE institutions.71 Some scholars lean toward Jerusalem and the temple as completely separate in Luke-Acts while others argue that the two are in fact synonymous.72 Since scholars diverge concerning this issue, one should examine the overlapping material in Luke-Acts to determine if the two locations are in fact interchangeable or distinct.73 First one must look at the beginning of Luke, where Jerusalem functioned as a center of the early life of Jesus. When Jesus traveled to the temple to be dedicated, Jerusalem and the temple appear close together in the narrative. Luke 2:22 shows Jerusalem as the goal of the journey, but in truth the temple must be the focus since that is where the young Jesus was to be presented.74 The repetition used in 2:41-45 strengthens the claim that Luke merges the temple and Jerusalem as one location, for once again the goal of the trip was to go to the temple. While many scholars have noted the parallel between Jesus and John according to Luke's gospel, Jesus emerges as the greater of the two, not because of his teaching, but because the temple is his true home.75 John is dedicated to the Lord at the temple, but Jesus, when journeying to the temple, is coming home. <br /><br />The central section of Luke is filled with teachings and miracles, but the narrative is pointed directly at Jerusalem.76 After a few pericopae of teaching and events, Luke introduces a statement about heading toward Jerusalem. This may look like it refers to Jerusalem only, but the ultimate destination of Jesus is not the city proper, but the temple. In fact, Luke seems to go out of his way not to mention the city during the triumphal entrance pericope.77 Furthermore, while 13:33-35 predicts that people will declare "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord," Luke omits the fulfillment from his account in order to keep the temple at the center.78 Therefore, since Jesus' first act upon arriving in Jerusalem is the cleansing of the temple, it seems likely that when he turned toward Jerusalem, his thoughts were not chiefly of the city, but of his "Father's house."79 <br /><br />In the opening sections of Acts, it seems clear that Jerusalem and the temple are synonymous for the narrative. The believers met in the temple courts. The apostles did much of their preaching and teaching there. The people saw them in the temple and did not react adversely. Acts 1:8 declares the mission to be to Jerusalem first, but the missionaries apparently never leave the temple.80 Knowing the early believers held their gatherings in the temple courts, it is no stretch to view the temple as the place where much of the guidance for the church took shape. In fact, due to the conversion of many priests (6:7), ties with the temple become more likely.81 The mention in 8:27 of the eunuch who had come to "Jerusalem to worship" also shows an understood link between city and temple.82 Paul's trips always circle back to Jerusalem in general. He began his career partially in the temple. At the end of his first journey he met with the leaders of the church (Acts 15:2), and at the conclusion of his second trip he went to the temple courts (Acts 21:26). Throughout Acts, Jerusalem and the temple are closely linked. <br /><br />Nevertheless, not all references to Jerusalem refer to the temple. For example, Luke 21:20-24 predicts the destruction of Jerusalem, but nothing within the content of those verses links it thematically with the temple. In fact, the differences compared to the Markan passage makes it more likely that Luke intentionally does not refer to the temple and thus is only concerned with the city.83 Luke 23:28 builds on the passages where Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, a reference pertaining more to the people than to the temple.84 The setting of Jesus' death was Jerusalem and, by geographical necessity, not the temple. In Acts one finds several mentions of Jerusalem denoting the people and not the place, such as in 13:27, 31. Thus Jerusalem is not always linked to the temple. <br /><br />From this investigation, one can now conclude that the temple is indeed the narrative center of Luke-Acts. Jerusalem receives frequent mention but rarely without a close association with the temple.85 One must remain attentive, however, not to overplay this connection in every instance. This article maintains that Luke's gospel begins in the temple and focuses on Jesus' movement back toward the temple. Luke 19-24 concentrates on the temple and what occurs in and around it. Acts then begins at the temple and slowly moves away from it, though never leaving it for long. In some respects, Luke is movement toward the temple and Acts is movement away from the temple.86 A more nuanced statement is that Luke moves toward the temple while Acts remains centered on the temple, expressed in the movements of Luke's characters away from and then back to it. This makes the temple the narrative center of Luke-Acts since the stories hinge on the temple and revolve around it. <br /><br />VI. CONCLUSION <br /><br />It was suggested at the beginning of this article that the temple is the narrative center of Luke-Acts. It has been argued that Jerusalem and the temple both play important roles in the way that the story is told. The temple and Jerusalem have been closely linked to one another, though this is not always a direct correspondence. Rather it is a solid premise unless context dictates otherwise. By tracing references to the temple and Jerusalem throughout the two books, one observes the use of the temple as the beginning and goal of Luke and as the center of Acts. What is the theological significance of the temple? Is Luke necessarily critiquing the temple itself, or is it possible that he critiques only the leadership or misappropriation of the temple? How does Stephen's speech fit into this discussion?87 What is the relationship between the church and Israel?88 While a firm response to any of these questions is premature, this article should lead to a reassessment based upon the temple grounds as the center of the budding church, as the evidence seemingly points toward the temple as the rightful place or property of the church as the true heirs of the title "the people of God." <br /><br />1 Klaus Baltzer ("The Meaning of the Temple in the Lukan Writings," HTR 58 [1965]: 263-77) introduces the idea of looking at the narrative use of the temple, but he leaves this idea behind for a brief theological analysis. <br /><br />2 For an example Unking the church to the temple, see G. K. Beale, The Temple and the Church's Mission: A Biblical Theology of the Dwelling Place of God (NSBT 17; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2004). Beale lumps all of the Gospels together, however, and therefore misses the links in Luke-Acts and fails to differentiate adequately the Synoptics from each other. <br /><br />3 Paul Hoskins, "Jesus as the Replacement of the Temple in the Gospel of John" (Ph.D. diss., Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, 2002). This is also mentioned in passing by Baltzer, "Meaning of the Temple," 271. <br /><br />5 Peter Bohlemann, Jesus und der Taufer: Schlüssel zur Theologie und Ethik des Lukas (SNTSMS 99; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 35. Bohlemann speaks of the "positive assessment of the Temple in Luke 2," due to the way it is presented by Luke. <br /><br />6 J. Bradley Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, and the New Age in Luke-Acts (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1988), 48. Chance notes, "Omitting the prologue (1:1-4) from consideration, fifty-two of the 128 remaining verses describe activity which is taking place in the Temple (Lk. 1:2-25; 2:22-38, 41-51). Thus, almost forty percent of the first two chapters is devoted to the setting of the Temple." <br /><br />7 I. Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 114. Marshall talks about the power of the declaration by Simeon, whereas the point here is also the location of where this declaration takes place. <br /><br />8 Allan J. McNicol, "Rebuilding the House of David: The Function of the Benedictus in Luke-Acts," ResQ 40 (1998): 25. McNicol notes the tie, but makes the link the "note of triumphalism" instead of the temple alone, though the triumphalism is associated with the temple since these births announce "a golden age of a political and spiritual restoration for Israel." For the link between John and Jesus in Luke's gospel, see Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Luke the Theologian (New York: Paulist, 1989), 102-10. <br /><br />9 McNiCol, "Rebuilding," 32. Referring to this story, McNicol says, "Here Luke's account anticipates the future course of Jesus' ministry. Later, Jesus the son will make a momentous journey to Jerusalem to claim his right to the father's house (Luke 19:46)." <br /><br />10 Peter L. Walker, Jesus and the Holy City: New Testament Perspectives on Jerusalem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 63. Walker makes a strong point in contrasting 19:46 with 13:35 and the inversion of to whom the temple belongs. See also Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, 56-57. Chance argues from the differences between Mark and Luke that Mark is stressing the problem of the entire temple cult whereas Luke is referring only to the abuse of the temple and not the temple per se, making it a cleansing. See also I. Howard Marshall, Luke: Historian and Theologian (Devon: Paternoster, 1970), 155. <br /><br />11 Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, 57-58. <br /><br />12 Contra McNicol, "Rebuilding," 34. He says, "All that is left is to state the reason for the rejection of the temple. This is now done when Jesus says it has become a den of robbers." Unfortunately, McNicol misses the point of 19:47-48 and in fact ignores the verses in his discussion. <br /><br />13 Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, 58, emphasis original. <br /><br />14 Ibid., 61-62. Chance makes a strong argument for this, noting the Lukan fascination with the temple as important. Marshall (Historian and Theologian, 155 n. 1) also notes the contrast between the Markan movement to and from the temple and how Luke keeps Jesus stationary at the temple. <br /><br />16 Marshall, Luke, 838. Marshall reflects on the importance of the insertion and darkness reference, but fails to note that it is the men who are being spoken of and not the place. <br /><br />18 For a deeper look at this section, see Joel B. Green, "The Demise of the Temple as 'Cultural Center' in Luke-Acts: An Exploration of the Rending of the Temple Veil (Luke 23:44-49)," RB 101 (1994): 495-515. Green correctly points out that the larger issue of the temple in all of Luke-Acts needs to be understood before making a particular interpretation here. <br /><br />19 Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 64-65 (see especially 64 n. 36). Chance (Jerusalem, the Temple, 63) talks about how Luke's Jesus and disciples seem to offer an affirmation of the temple cult. see also N. T. Wright, "The Resurrection and the Postmodern Dilemma," STRev 41 (1998): 150-51. Wright says, "The last Une of Luke's gospel picks up the fourth verse of Psalm 43: they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the Temple, praising God . . . the place where despair gives way to joy, and mourning to dancing." <br /><br />20 Adolf Schlatter, Das Evangelium des Lukas (2d ed.; Stuttgart: Gutmann: 1960), 149-52. <br /><br />21 Contra Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 63, this does not mean Jesus is cursing the temple since the disciples quickly return there after his death. <br /><br />22 The most notable passage not covered would be the temptation account in Luke 4, but the juxtaposition of the events as compared to Mark would in fact support the thesis put forth rather than hinder it. <br /><br />23 Yves Congar, The Mystery of the Temple (trans. Reginald F. Trevett; Westminster: Newman, 1962), 113-50. <br /><br />25 See the description in Alfred Edersheim, The Temple: Its Ministries and Services (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958), 45. <br /><br />26 I. Howard Marshall, Acts (TNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 124. Marshall talks of how the disciples for the time being did not fear any further mishandling in the temple environs. <br /><br />27 See Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, 63-72, and John Goldingay, "Are They Comic Acts?" EvQ 69 (1997): 102-3. Goldingay notes the humorous back and forth of the Jerusalem leaders trying to find the once imprisoned disciples, which is probably a subtle form of poking fun at the leadership of the Jews, but not the Jews themselves. <br /><br />28 Robert C. Tannehill, "Israel in Luke-Acts: A Tragic Story," JBL 104 (1985): 75-77. <br /><br />29 Gottfned Schille and Otto Bauernfeind, Die Apostelgeschichte des Lukas (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1983), 157. They discuss how Christians seemingly take over the temple grounds. <br /><br />30 This foregoes examining the uses of "temple" in 17:24, 19:24, and 19:27. In addition, due to the amount of ink spilt on Stephen's speech and the various controversies surrounding those verses, this article will not address that issue. Instead, the reader is referred to the following works for a summation of the issues: Robert T. Anderson, "The Use of Hebrew Scripture in Stephen's Speech," in Uncovering Ancient Stones: Essays in Memory of H. Neil Richardson (ed. Lewis M. Hopfe; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1994), 205-15; Michael Bachmann, "Die Stephanusperikope (Apg 6,1-8,3): Ihre Bedeutung für die lukanische Sicht des jerusalemischen Tempels und des Judentums," in The Unity of Luke-Acts (ed. J. Verheyden; BETL 142; Leuven: University Press, 1999), 545-62; Johann Bihler, Die Stephanusgeschichte. (München: Chr. Kaiser, 1963); Peter Dschulingg, "Die Rede des Stephanus im Rahmen des Berichtes über sein Martyrium," in judaica: Beiträge zum Verständnis des Jüdisclien Schicksals in Vergangenlieit und Gegenwart (ed. Kurt Hruby; Basel: Stiftung für die Kirche und Judenrum, 1988), 195-213; John J. Kilgallen, "The Function of Stephen's Speech (Acts 7,2-53)," Bib 70 (1989): 173-93; Franz Mußner, "Wohnung Gottes und Menschensohn nach der Stephanusperikope (Apg 6,8-8,2)," in ]esus und der Menschensohn: Für Anton Vögtle (ed. Rudolf Pesch and Rudolf Schnackenburg; Freiburg: Herder, 1975), 283-99; N. H. Taylor, "Stephen, the Temple, and Early Christian Eschatology," RB 110 (2003): 62-85; Huub Van De Sandt, "The Presence and Transcendence of God: An Investigation of Acts 7,44-50 in the Light of the LXX," ETL 80 (2004): 30-59. <br /><br />31 See the discussion above. <br /><br />32 F. F. Bruce, The Book of the Acts (NlCNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 418-19. Bruce goes on to place this vision in its most likely context, but harmonization is not necessary for the point to stand. <br /><br />33 The question of why there is a gap will be considered later in the article. <br /><br />34 McNicol ("Rebuilding," 29) and Marshall (Luke, 114-15) both mention this as the mission of Jesus, which in turn becomes the focus of Luke's gospel as well as Acts (David Pao, Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus [Grand Rapids: Baker, 2002], 111-46). <br /><br />35 Craig A. Evans, Luke (NIBC; Peabody: Hendrickson, 1990), 42. <br /><br />36 R. J. McKelvey, The New Temple: The Church in the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), 58-59. McKelvey talks about how all the gospels are in some part a drive toward Jerusalem. <br /><br />37 Marshall, Luke, 385; and David Lenz Tiede, Prophecy and History in Luke-Acts (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980), 56-57. A few scholars, such as Walker in the following note, miss this connection. <br /><br />38 Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 58. Unlike Walker, this paper breaks 13:33-35 off into a different section to be analyzed later. <br /><br />39 Luke 1-2 has 132 verses, 3-8 has 276, and 20-24 has 265. By comparison, 9-19 contains 478 verses. <br /><br />40 For some reflections on the narrative force of 9:51 and the debate over a possible parallel to Acts 19:21, see Armand Puig i Tà rreich, "Les voyages à Jérusalem (Lc 9,51; Ac 19,21)," in The Unity of Luke-Acts (ed. J. Verheyden; BETL 142; Leuven: University Press, 1999), 493-505. <br /><br />41 Mikael C. Parsons and Richard I. Pervo, Rethinking the Unity of Luke and Acts (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 58-59. However, one should not disregard the didactic material, just interpret it while understanding the role it plays in the narrative structure of Luke. <br /><br />42 Here following the example of Chance (Jerusalem, the Temple, 115-17), who also closely links these two passages. See also Evans, Luke, 214. Evans links 13:31-35 with 19:41-44; 21:20-24; and 23:27-31 as the four laments over Jerusalem. <br /><br />43 So Marshall, Luke, 573, and most Bible versions that contain headings. <br /><br />44 Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, 115. <br /><br />45 Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 70. This is a discussion that will be resumed later. <br /><br />46 Ibid. Chance (Jerusalem, the Temple, 115-16) applies this to the temple by assuming that Jerusalem always refers to the temple. However, this seems an unlikely spot to be referring to the temple, especially when taking into account the mention of the prophets being killed, which points more toward the people than the temple or cultus itself. See John Nolland, Luke (WBC 35a-c; Waco: Word, 1993), 3:1002. Nolland argues that this is referring only to the leaders of the Jews and not the people as a whole, though he does say that it very well could be the leaders should stand for the whole since they "will eventually take (the most part of) the Jewish People with them into opposition to Jesus and the Christian movement (see esp. 23:13, 18, 23; and developments in Acts)." <br /><br />47 Mark does refer to the "desolation," which would have implications with respect to the Temple, but Judea is then mentioned without any specific reference to Jerusalem. <br /><br />48 Nolland, Luke, 3:1001. <br /><br />49 E.g., McKelvey, The New Temple, 159, and E. Earle Ellis, The Gospel of Luke (The Century Bible; London: Thomas Nelson, 1966), 244. <br /><br />50 Ellis, Luke, 245. <br /><br />51 Luke 23:28 will not be considered due to space limitations. It does not negatively affect the thesis of this paper, as per the discussion of it in John Nolland, Luke, 3:1137. For Jerusalem being the center of the action, see Joseph B. Tyson, The Death of Jesus in Luke-Acts (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1986), 93-94. <br /><br />52 Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, 65-66. At the very least, Luke would know Mark's account, if not Paul's listing in 1 Cor 15:5-8. <br /><br />53 Ibid. Chance notes that the appearances cited by Luke may not occur in Jerusalem proper, but they all occur within "the city's immediate environs." <br /><br />54 Nolland, Luke, 3:1208. <br /><br />55 Marshall, Luke, 906. See also the discussion in Leon Morris, Luke (TNTC 3; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 374. <br /><br />56 Tyson, The Death of Jesus, 90. <br /><br />57 F. F. Bruce, The Acts of the Apostles: The Greek Text with Introduction and Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1951), 71. <br /><br />58 Marshall, Acts, 61. <br /><br />59 Robert C. Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts: A Literary Interpretation (2 vols.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 1:295-7. Tannehill notes how Acts 1 parallels or even mirrors the end of Luke, with both structured around Jerusalem. <br /><br />60 Acts 8:1 introduces Paul, which is the logical narrative time to begin moving the story away from Jerusalem, so that the "apostle to the Gentiles" has some Gentiles with which to work. <br /><br />61 Acts 5:28 reads, "'We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name,' he said. 'Yet you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching and are determined to make us guilty of this man's blood.'" <br /><br />62 Bruce, The Book of the Acts, 123. See also Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 84. <br /><br />63 Bruce, The Acts of the Apostles, 191. Bruce calls the man a proselyte, God-fearer, or devout person. <br /><br />64 Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 86. <br /><br />65 Bruce, The Book of the Acts, 219-31. <br /><br />66 Richard Bauckham, "James and the Jerusalem Church," in The Book of Acts in Its Palestinian Setting (ed. Richard Bauckham; vol. 4 of The Book of Acts in Its First Century Setting [ed. Bruce W. Winter; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995]), 415-80. Bauckham explains this through a parallel between Jerusalem Judaism and the Diaspora, in that the Diaspora would appeal to Jerusalem for rulings on matters of faith which would then become the norm for all practicing Jews the world over. Also note 16:4 which says, "As they traveled from town to town, they delivered the decisions reached by the apostles and elders in Jerusalem for the people to obey." <br /><br />67 Pao (Acts, 156) notes the circular movements of the missionaries, as they go out from a place and come back to it. <br /><br />68 Ibid., 154-56. <br /><br />69 For example, see Acts 20:22-23 and 21:11-13. <br /><br />70 Dennis M. Sweetland, "Luke-Acts: An Overview," TBT 35 (1997): 337. <br /><br />71 Beale, The Temple and the Church's Mission, 29-122. Beale contends that the Edenic themes of kingship tied with priesthood are carried throughout the OT and into the NT (N.B. 81-87). <br /><br />72 For the former, see Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 60, though he only assumes it while keeping them together in terms of the judgment and destruction to be visited upon them (p. 63). For the latter, see Chance, Jerusalem, the Temple, 115, and he also does not argue for this position. <br /><br />73 For the following discussion, see also Michael Bachmann, Jerusalem und der Tempel: Die geographisch-theologischen Elemente in der lukanischen Sicht des jüdischen Kultzentrums (BWANT 9; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1980), 63-67. 74 Ellis, Luke, 82. <br /><br />75 McNiCol, "Rebuilding," 32. He says, "Jesus the son will . . . journey to Jerusalem to claim his right to the father's house. . . . the house of God in Jerusalem will play a central role in the story" (emphasis original). <br /><br />76 Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 58. <br /><br />77 Marshall, Luke, 720-21. <br /><br />78 Robert C. Tannehill, "Israel in Luke-Acts," 84-85. Tannehill notes the omission for a different reason. <br /><br />79 McNicol, "Rebuilding," 32. Cf. N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Christian Origins and the Question of God 2; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 490-93. Wright contends that Jesus' action in the temple constitutes a royal and priestly function, something that the Jews would have understood. <br /><br />80 Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 64-65. <br /><br />81 Bruce, The Book of the Acts, 123. Bruce says, "The fact that so many priests were joining the community meant that the ties which attached many of the believers to the temple order would be strengthened. It is not suggested that these priests relinquished their priestly office; the logic of such a step would not be generally appreciated at this stage." <br /><br />82 Jacob Jervell, Die Apostelgeschichte (17th ed.; KEK; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 271. He links this with the charge against Paul in 21:28 in that it could be a destination without full participation. See also Friedrich Avemarie, Die Tauferzählungen der Apostelgeschichte (WUNT 139; Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 63. <br /><br />83 Nolland, Luke, 3:1000, states, "The Markan equivalent (13:14) maintained the temple focus but, with its Danielic allusion . . . concerned itself with the desecration rather than the destruction of the temple." Contra Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 64, who must be assuming that the desolation refers to the temple only. <br /><br />84 Nolland, Luke, 3:1137. <br /><br />85 I. Howard Marshall, New Testament Theology: Many Witnesses, One Gospel (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2004), 140. With respect to Luke, Marshall states "with a kind of inclusio the Gospel begins and ends in Jerusalem with scenes in the temple." <br /><br />86 Walker, Jesus and the Holy City, 56. <br /><br />87 For an initial response, see James P. Sweeney, "Stephen's Speech (Acts 7:2-53): Is It as 'Anti-Temple' as Is Frequently Alleged?" TJ 23 (2002): 185-210; and Michael Bachmann, "Die Stephanusperikope (Apg 6,1-8,3): Ihre Bedeurung für die lukanische Sicht des jerusalemischen Tempels und des Judentums," in The Unity of Luke-Acts (ed. J. Verheyden; BETL 142; Leuven: University Press, 1999), 545-62. With respect to the charges against Stephen, and about Jesus, see Sasagu Arai, "Zum 'Templewort' Jesu in Apostelgeschichte 6.14," NTS 34 (1988): 379-410. On the distinctive issues tied to Hellenistic understandings of the Temple, see Alfons Weiser, "Zur Gesetzes- und Tempelkritik der Hellenisten,'" in Das Gesetz im Neuen Testament (ed. Karl Kertelge; QD 108; Freiburg: Herder, 1986), 146-68. <br /><br />88 Attempts to address this question without first dealing with the temple in Acts or Luke-Acts are unconvincing. For example, see Erich Crasser, Forschungen zur Apostelgeschichte (WUNT 137; Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 37-43. Cf. works listed above. <br /><br />RON C. FAY* <br /><br />* Ron C. Fay just completed his Ph.D. at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, Illinois. <br /><br />Copyright Trinity International University Fall 2006<br />Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved<br /><br />NARRATIVE FUNCTION OF THE TEMPLE IN LUKE-ACTS, THE<br />Trinity Journal, Fall 2006 by Fay, Ron CUnknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1114915793791575952005-04-30T19:49:00.000-07:002005-06-04T16:55:45.366-07:00Readings and Articles<strong><br /><br /><img src="http://www.jesus8880.com/chapters/mk04/images-mk04-art/lamp-book.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><br />January 2004<br />1 Th<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/account-of-creation-genesis-11-24a.html">The Account of Creation - Genesis 1:1-2:4a</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/many-voices-one-voice-creation-story.html">Many voices, One Voice - Creation Story in Genesis</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/created-in-image-of-violent-god.html">Created in the Image of a Violent God?; The Ethical Problem of the Conquest of Chaos in Biblical Creation Texts</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/man-and-woman-in-eden-genesis-24b-25.html">Man-and-Woman-in-Eden: Genesis-2:4b-25</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/institution-of-marriage-in-genesis-2.html">Institution of Marriage in Genesis 2 and in Atrahasis</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/man-and-woman-sin-genesis-31-24.html">Man-and-Woman-Sin: genesis-3:1-24</a><br />2 Fr<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/cain-abel-and-seth-genesis-41-26.html">Cain, Abel, and Seth: Genesis 4:1-26</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/from-adam-to-noah-genesis-51-32.html">From Adam to Noah: Genesis 5:1-32</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/noah-and-flood-genesis-61-22.html">Noah before the Flood: Genesis 6:1-22</a><br />3 Sa<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/noahs-sons-family-trees-genesis-10.html">Noah's Sons' Family Trees: Genesis 10</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/families-of-shem-ham-and-japheth-three.html">Families of Shem, Ham, and Japheth, the three sons of Noah: Genesis 10</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/from-adam-to-noahs-sons-1-chronicles.html">From Adam to Noahs Sons: 1 Chronicles 1:1-27</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/flood-covers-earth-genesis-71-9.html">Noah and the Flood: Genesis 7:1-9</a><br />4 Su<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/tower-of-babel-genesis-111-9.html">The Tower of Babel: Genesis 11:1-9</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/abram-and-sarai-genesis-1127-1424.html">Abram and Sarai: Genesis 11:27-14:24</a><br /><br />5 Mo<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004_01_05_bibleproject_archive.html">Abraham and Sarah: Genesis 15:1-17:27</a><br />6 Tu<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/abraham-and-sarah-genesis-181-1929.html">Abraham and Sarah: Genesis 18:1-19:29</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/listening-to-abraham-listening-to-yhwh.html">Listening to Abraham-Listening to Yhwh: Divine Justice and Mercy in Genesis 18:16-33</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/lot-and-daughters-abraham-and.html">Lot and daughters, Abraham and Abimelech: Genesis 19:30-20:18</a><br />7 We<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/abraham-sarah-and-isaac-genesis-211.html">Abraham, Sarah and Isaac; Hagar and Ishmael: Genesis 21:1-24:67</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/hagar-victim-or-villain-three.html">Hagar, victim or villain? Three sixteenth-century views</a><br />8 Th<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/ishmael-jacob-and-esau-genesis-25.html">Ishmael, Jacob and Esau: Genesis 25</a><br />9 Fr<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/isaac-and-rebekah-jacob-and-esau.html">Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Esau: Genesis 26-28:1-9</a><br />10 Sa<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/jacob-genesis-2810-30.html">Jacob: Genesis 28:10-30</a><br />11 Su<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/jacob-and-laban-genesis-31.html">Jacob and Laban: Genesis 31</a><br />12 Mo<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/jacob-returns-esau-genesis-32-35.html">Jacob Returns, Esau: Genesis 32-35</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/who-lost-earring-genesis-354.html">Who lost an earring? Genesis 35:4 reconsidered</a><br />13 Tu<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/descendants-of-esau-genesis-36.html">Descendants of Esau: Genesis 36</a><br />14 We<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/joseph-genesis-37.html">Joseph: Genesis 37</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/judah-and-tamar-genesis-38.html">Judah and Tamar: Genesis 38</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/genesis-38-its-contribution-to-jacob.html">Genesis 38: Its Contribution to the Jacob Story</a><br />15 Th<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/joseph-in-potiphars-house-genesis-39.html">Joseph in Potiphar’s House: Genesis 39</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/joseph-interprets-two-dreams-genesis.html">Joseph Interprets Two Dreams: Genesis 40</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/pharaohs-dreams-genesis-41.html">Pharaoh’s Dreams: Genesis 41</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/prophecy-as-divination.html">Prophecy as divination</a><br />16 Fr<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/josephs-brothers-go-to-egypt-genesis.html">Joseph's Brothers Go to Egypt: Genesis 42</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/brothers-return-to-egypt-genesis-43.html">The Brothers Return to Egypt: Genesis 43</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/josephs-silver-cup-genesis-44.html">Joseph's Silver Cup: Genesis 44</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/joseph-reveals-his-identity-genesis-45.html">Joseph Reveals His Identity: Genesis 45</a><br />17 Sa<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/jacob-goes-to-egypt.html">Jacob Goes to Egypt: Genesis 46-47</a><br />18 Su<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/jacobs-blessings-and-death-death-of.html">Jacob's blessings and death, the death of Joseph: Genesis 48-50</a><br />19 Mo<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/job-is-tested-job-1-2.html">Job is Tested: Job 1-2</a><br />20 Tu<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/job-speaks-eliphaz-responds-job-3-5.html">Job speaks, Eliphaz responds: Job 3-5</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/job-responds-to-eliphaz-cries-out-to.html">Job responds to Eliphaz; Cries out to God: Job 6-7</a><br />21 We<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/jobs-third-speech-response-to-bildad.html">Job's Third Speech - Response to Bildad: Job 8-9</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/job-frames-his-plea-to-god-job-10.html">Job Frames His Plea to God: Job 10</a><br />22 Th<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/zophar-speaks-job-responds-job-11-12.html">Zophar Speaks, Job Responds: Job 11-12</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/job-wants-to-argue-his-case-with-god.html">Job Wants to Argue His Case with God: Job 13-14</a><br />23 Fr<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/eliphaz-speaks-job-responds-job-15-16.html">Eliphaz speaks, Job responds: Job 15-16</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/01/job-continues-to-defend-his-innocence.html">Job Continues to Defend His Innocence: Job 17</a><br />24 Sa<br />25 Su<br />26 Mo<br />27 Tu<br />28 We<br />29 Th<br />30 Fr<br />31 Sa<br /><br />February 2004<br /><br />1 Su<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/02/prophetic-dimension-of-divine-name-on.html">The Prophetic Dimension of the Divine name: On Exodus 3:14a and its context</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/02/philos-view-of-moses-birth-and.html">Philo's view of Moses' birth and upbringing</a><br />2 Mo<br />3 Tu<br />4 We<br />5 Th<br />6 Fr<br />7 Sa<br />8 Su<br />9 Mo<br />10 Tu<br />11 We<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/02/friends-with-god-moses-and-possibility.html">Friends with God? Moses and the Possibility of Covenantal Friendship</a><br />12 Th<br />13 Fr<br />14 Sa<br />15 Su<br />16 Mo<br />17 Tu<br />18 We<br />19 Th<br />20 Fr<br />21 Sa<br />22 Su<br />23 Mo<br />24 Tu<br />25 We<br />26 Th<br />27 Fr<br />28 Sa<br />29 Su<br /><br />March 2004<br /><br />1 Mo<br />2 Tu<br />3 We<br />4 Th<br />5 Fr<br />6 Sa<br />7 Su<br />8 Mo<br />9 Tu<br />10 We<br />11 Th<br />12 Fr<br />13 Sa<br />14 Su<br />15 Mo<br />16 Tu<br />17 We<br />18 Th<br />19 Fr<br />20 Sa<br />21 Su<br />22 Mo<br />23 Tu<br />24 We<br />25 Th<br />26 Fr<br />27 Sa<br />28 Su<br />29 Mo<br />30 Tu<br />31 We<br /><br />April 2004<br /><br />1 Th<br />2 Fr<br />3 Sa<br />4 Su<br />5 Mo<br />6 Tu<br />7 We<br />8 Th<br />9 Fr<br />10 Sa<br />11 Su<br />12 Mo<br />13 Tu<br />14 We<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/04/jonathans-gift-of-friendship.html">Jonathan's Gift of Friendship</a><br />15 Th<br />16 Fr<br />17 Sa<br />18 Su<br />19 Mo<br />20 Tu<br />21 We<br />22 Th<br />23 Fr<br />24 Sa<br />25 Su<br />26 Mo<br />27 Tu<br />28 We<br />29 Th<br />30 Fr<br /><br />May 2004<br /><br />1 Sa<br />2 Su<br />3 Mo<br />4 Tu<br />5 We<br />6 Th<br />7 Fr<br />8 Sa<br />9 Su<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/05/psalm-27.html">Psalm 27</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/05/psalm-28.html">Psalm 28</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/05/psalm-29.html">Psalm 29</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/05/psalm-31.html">Psalm 31</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/05/psalm-32.html">Psalm 32</a><br />10 Mo<br />11 Tu<br />12 We<br />13 Th<br />14 Fr<br />15 Sa<br />16 Su<br />17 Mo<br />18 Tu<br />19 We<br />20 Th<br />21 Fr<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/05/revealing-and-concealing-as-narrative.html">Revealing and concealing as a narrative strategy in Solomon's judgement (1 Kings 3:16-28)</a><br />22 Sa<br />23 Su<br />24 Mo<br />25 Tu<br />26 We<br />27 Th<br />28 Fr<br />29 Sa<br />30 Su<br />31 Mo<br /><br />June 2004<br /><br />1 Tu<br />2 We<br />3 Th<br />4 Fr<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/06/solomons-most-wonderful-song-song-of.html">Solomon's Most Wonderful Song - Song of Songs 1:1-8:14</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/06/gender-and-shaping-of-desire-in-song.html">Gender and the shaping of desire in the song of songs and its interpretation</a><br />5 Sa<br />6 Su<br />7 Mo<br />8 Tu<br />9 We<br />10 Th<br />11 Fr<br />12 Sa<br />13 Su<br />14 Mo<br />15 Tu<br />16 We<br />17 Th<br />18 Fr<br />19 Sa<br />20 Su<br />21 Mo<br />22 Tu<br />23 We<br />24 Th<br />25 Fr<br />26 Sa<br />27 Su<br />28 Mo<br />29 Tu<br />30 We<br /><br />July 2004<br /><br />1 Th<br />2 Fr<br />3 Sa<br />4 Su<br />5 Mo<br />6 Tu<br />7 We<br />8 Th<br />9 Fr<br />10 Sa<br />11 Su<br />12 Mo<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/07/psalm-119.html">Psalm 119</a><br />13 Tu<br />14 We<br />15 Th<br />16 Fr<br />17 Sa<br />18 Su<br />19 Mo<br />20 Tu<br />21 We<br />22 Th<br />23 Fr<br />24 Sa<br />25 Su<br />26 Mo<br />27 Tu<br />28 We<br />29 Th<br />30 Fr<br />31 Sa<br /><br />August 2004<br /><br />1 Su<br />2 Mo<br />3 Tu<br />4 We<br />5 Th<br />6 Fr<br />7 Sa<br />8 Su<br />9 Mo<br />10 Tu<br />11 We<br />12 Th<br />13 Fr<br />14 Sa<br />15 Su<br />16 Mo<br />17 Tu<br />18 We<br />19 Th<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/08/judgment-on-jerusalems-prostitution.html">Judgment on Jerusalem's Prostitution: Ezekiel 16:35-63</a><br />20 Fr<br />21 Sa<br />22 Su<br />23 Mo<br />24 Tu<br />25 We<br />26 Th<br />27 Fr<br />28 Sa<br />29 Su<br />30 Mo<br />31 Tu<br /><br />September 2004<br /><br />1 We<br />2 Th<br />3 Fr<br />4 Sa<br />5 Su<br />6 Mo<br />7 Tu<br />8 We<br />9 Th<br />10 Fr<br />11 Sa<br />12 Su<br />13 Mo<br />14 Tu<br />15 We<br />16 Th<br />17 Fr<br />18 Sa<br />19 Su<br />20 Mo<br />21 Tu<br />22 We<br />23 Th<br />24 Fr<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/09/how-jewish-is-gospel-of-matthew.html">How Jewish is the Gospel of Matthew?</a><br />25 Sa<br />26 Su<br />27 Mo<br />28 Tu<br />29 We<br />30 Th<br /><br />October 2004<br /><br />1 Fr<br />2 Sa<br />3 Su<br />4 Mo<br />5 Tu<br />6 We<br />7 Th<br />8 Fr<br />9 Sa<br />10 Su<br />11 Mo<br />12 Tu<br />13 We<br />14 Th<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/10/follow-me-imperious-call-of-jesus-in.html">"Follow Me" The Imperious Call of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels</a><br />15 Fr<br />16 Sa<br />17 Su<br />18 Mo<br />19 Tu<br />20 We<br />21 Th<br />22 Fr<br />23 Sa<br />24 Su<br />25 Mo<br />26 Tu<br />27 We<br />28 Th<br />29 Fr<br />30 Sa<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/10/jesus-as-friend-in-gospel-of-john.html">Jesus as Friend in the Gospel of John</a><br />31 Su<br /><br />November 2004<br /><br />1 Mo<br />2 Tu<br />3 We<br />4 Th<br />5 Fr<br />6 Sa<br />7 Su<br />8 Mo<br />9 Tu<br />10 We<br />11 Th<br />12 Fr<br />13 Sa<br />14 Su<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/11/under-law-background-of-pauline.html">"Under the law": The background of a Pauline expression</a><br />15 Mo<br />16 Tu<br />17 We<br />18 Th<br />19 Fr<br />20 Sa<br />21 Su<br />22 Mo<br />23 Tu<br />24 We<br />25 Th<br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/11/righteousness-of-law-and-righteousness.html">The Righteousness of the Law and the Righteousness of Faith in Romans</a><br />- <a href="http://bibleproject.blogspot.com/2004/11/cosmic-power-of-sin-in-pauls-letter-to.html">The Cosmic Power of Sin in Paul's Letter to the Romans: Toward a Widescreen Edition</a><br />26 Fr<br />27 Sa<br />28 Su<br />29 Mo<br />30 Tu<br /><br />December 2004<br /><br />1 We<br />2 Th<br />3 Fr<br />4 Sa<br />5 Su<br />6 Mo<br />7 Tu<br />8 We<br />9 Th<br />10 Fr<br />11 Sa<br />12 Su<br />13 Mo<br />14 Tu<br />15 We<br />16 Th<br />17 Fr<br />18 Sa<br />19 Su<br />20 Mo<br />21 Tu<br />22 We<br />23 Th<br />24 Fr<br />25 Sa<br />26 Su<br />27 Mo<br />28 Tu<br />29 We<br />30 Th<br />31 Fr<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1115419021738346002004-11-25T15:35:00.000-08:002005-05-08T23:44:48.680-07:00The Cosmic Power of Sin in Paul's Letter to the Romans: Toward a Widescreen Edition<img src="http://www.bibleuniverse.com/images/3steps/paul.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><strong>The Cosmic Power of Sin in Paul's Letter to the Romans: </strong><strong>Toward a Widescreen Edition </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><em>Beverly Roberts Gaventa. Interpretation. Richmond: Jul 2004.Vol.58, Iss. 3; pg. 229, 12 pgs Copyright Interpretation Jul 2004</em></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Paul's letter to the Romans depicts Sin as one of the anti-God powers whose final defeat the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ guarantees. The framework of cosmic battle is essential for reading and interpreting this letter in the life of the church.<br />No form of Christian teaching has any future before it except such as can keep steadily in view the reality of the evil in the world, and go to meet the evil with a battle-song of triumph.<br />Gustav Aulén1<br />Here at Christ Church, we don't have sin." Stunning as it may be, this statement was made to a pastor of my acquaintance early in his current pastorate. What precisely the statement was intended to convey remains obscure, but it conjures up the range of ways in which contemporary Christians convey their discomfort with talk about sin (at least as sin pertains to themselves). A friend told me that she could not sing "Amazing Grace," as she had never been a "wretch" who required saving. Congregations seeking a more "positive" worship experience relegate prayers of confession to the dustbin with the explanation that people prefer not to think about sin.<br />The people who inhabit these anecdotes would surely find themselves ill at ease with Paul's letter to Christians at Rome. More than anywhere else in the New Testament, the language of sin flourishes here.2 The noun hamartia (sin) and words related to it (sinner, to sin, sinful) appear 81 times in the undisputed letters of Paul, and 60 of those instances are in Romans. In Romans 5-8 alone, the noun hamartia occurs 42 times. Often it acquires particular intensity because it serves as the subject of a verb: sin "came into the world" (5:12), sin "increased" (5:20), sin "exercised dominion" (5:21; cf. 6:12, 14), sin "produced" (7:8), sin "revived" (7:9), sin "dwells" (7:17, 20). Clearly sin has a leading role in the letter to the Romans.<br />Given this striking linguistic evidence, it may be surprising to notice a certain reluctance in the discussion of Paul's understanding of sin in some important scholarly works of recent years.3 A major concern of Stanley Stowers in A Rereading of Romans is to undermine the notion that Romans contains an understanding of universal sinfulness. Stowers contends that the point of 1:18-2:16 is first to demonstrate the decline and degeneration of Gentiles and then to demonstrate that Jesus Christ is God's solution to the problem of Gentile sin. Romans does affirm that the Gentile world stands under God's judgment, but no vigorous argument about sin is to be found here: "In the trivial sense, Paul believes that all humans sin, but that is far from saying that all are unrighteous, all fail to understand, all fail to seek God, all have turned away, and not a single person fears God (3:10ff.)."4 Troels Engberg-Pedersen sounds a similar note in his recent work, Paul and the Stoics. he argues that when Paul asserts in 3:9 that "all are under sin," he does not mean "necessarily'to sin' or 'to be a sinner in such a way that one constantly or at least regularly sins.'" Instead, being "under sin" may mean only "that one risks sinning, risks doing actual sins."5<br />To be sure, one purpose of these comments is to counter-and rightly so-claims made by earlier scholars who all too readily interpreted Paul's letter as a reasonable and reliable indictment of Jews and judaism.6 Nevertheless, the entirely appropriate desire not to bear false witness against the neighbor cannot excuse interpreters from taking seriously what is surely an important feature of Paul's letter. And a treatment of Romans that does not give a robust account of Paul's understanding of sin just will not work.<br />READING ROMANS: WIDESCREEN VERSUS "PAN AND SCAN"<br />Although any comparison between the careful scholarly treatments just mentioned and the highly selective anecdotes of the opening paragraph distorts both sides, there is one common thread that does connect them. In each case, the comments about sin consider sin strictly as a feature of human activity or human experience. The parishioner who claimed that there was no sin at Christ Church commented on the relative health of the congregation. Those who regard it as offensive to sing "Amazing Grace" or to offer a corporate prayer of confession do so because they think of sin as something a human being or group of human beings has done or not done. Stanley Stowers complains that the notion of universal sinfulness in Romans results in a portrait of the human condition that cannot distinguish between Moses and Hitler.7 What drives Stowers's complaint is the assumption that sin is a behavior, one that is hideously present in the activity of Adolf Hitler and infinitely less so in the activity of Moses.<br />This all seems quite self-evident. The difficulty arises when we notice that Paul does not confine his comments about sin to human behavior, to sin as misdeeds, omitted deeds, even to perverted thoughts and plans. Instead, in Romans in particular, sin is Sin-not a lower-case transgression, not even a human disposition or flaw in human nature, but an upper-case Power that enslaves humankind and stands over against God. Here, Sin is among those anti-God powers whose final defeat the resurrection of Jesus Christ inaugurates and guarantees.8 That larger picture of the cosmic battle is necessary to understand Paul's language in Romans, but that larger picture is missing in much recent discussion of Romans.9<br />An illustration from the world of film may be helpful. A major complaint of film afficionados is the way in which movies shown on television or VHS tape are subjected to "pan and scan" editing. "Pan and scan" editing crops the edges from film in order to compensate for the discrepancy between the wide screens in movie theatres and the boxy television screens in most homes. While satisfying to those who dislike the black bands of "letterbox" editions and who want their television screens full of picture, "pan and scan" editions can actually distort the film maker's work. For example, the number of actors who are visible may be substantially reduced, which in turn exaggerates the importance of the actors who do remain in view.10<br />Perhaps it is unavoidable that readers of biblical texts perform something equivalent to "pan and scan" editing as we interpret. Invariably, we "shrink the text," never quite able to attend to the whole of it. Yet our reading of Paul's letter to Rome may offer a most impressive example of this editing process, precisely because the letter itself involves so many twists and turns (to say nothing of the history of its interpretation). In a number of recent studies, what seems to have been left on the cutting room floor (underinterpreted or entirely neglected) in the interpretation of Romans concerns the larger apocalyptic dynamic of Paul's theology, particularly the cosmic character of his remarks about Sin. That apocalyptic framework is not only essential for understanding the letter as a whole, and the place of Sin in particular, but crucial for understanding the urgency of Romans in the contemporary context.<br />Here I will take with utter seriousness Paul's frequent use of Sin (hamartia) as the subject of a verb and describe Sin itself as a major character in the letter-a character who enslaves, who brings death, who ensnares even God's Torah, and whose demise is guaranteed by God's action in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. What may at first glance seem an exaggeration will, in my judgment, illumine the apocalyptic struggle that forms the widescreen version of Romans.<br />THE RÉSUMÉ OF SIN<br />Paul's remarks in Romans allow for the construction of a veritable résumé of Sin's achievements. Taking Sin's actions chronologically, the first claim made is that in Adam's transgression, Sin entered the world (5:12-21). Assuming that his Roman audience knows the biblical story, Paul does not retell it but simply touches on it as the beginning of Sin's activity.<br />Having established a base of operations," Sin became an enslaving power. Paul exposes this feature of Sin's résumé at two different points in the letter and at some length, surely in itself an indication of its importance. Paul explicitly identifies Sin as humanity's slaveholder in Romans 6, yet Sin's enslaving power first comes into view in 3:9 as the culmination of the relentless depiction of human activity in 1:18-2:29.<br />Although the noun hamartia is not attested until 3:9, Paul's depiction of Sin's activity properly opens with 1:18.12 Paul announces the subject in 1:18 with the solemn declaration that now God's wrath is revealed against "all ungodliness and wickedness of those who by their wickedness suppress the truth." The nature of this suppressed truth is nothing other than God's own work as creator, something humanity denied by its behavior (vv. 19-23). Through the refusal to honor or give thanks to God, and through idolatry-corrupt practices of worship!-humanity suppressed the truth.13 As is well-known, the repetition of the phrase "God gave them up" structures the remainder of ch. 1. Because human beings did not acknowledge God as God, God "gave them up" to impurity (v. 24), to degrading passions (v. 26), to a debased mind (v. 28). This handing over results in the relentless array of misconduct Paul itemizes in stark detail.14<br />Some scholars posit a tension between what Paul affirms in this passage about human refusal to acknowledge God and later sections of the letter that speak of Sin as a power. The beginning point of this grand depiction of Sin is certainly humanity's willful choice to deny God, even to create its own gods. Paul's depiction of humankind opens with an action taken by humanity itself rather than by another power. With the claim that God delivered up humanity to impurity, passion, and debased mind, however, there may be at least a hint of some larger conflict.15 An as-yet-unnamed someone or something challenges God for humanity. That is not to overlook the initial action: humanity's refusal of God's lordship meant that God conceded humanity for a time to the lordship of another.<br />The vigorous recital in 1:18-32 of the behaviors associated in Jewish literature with Gentiles virtually invites the audience to energetic assent.16 We can readily imagine Phoebe reading the letter to a gathering of believers at Rome, at least some of whom would nod their heads in smug agreement with the condemnation of "those" other people who do such dreadful things.17 At 2:1, Paul springs the trap on just such a reader, noting that the willingness to condemn others also constitutes a form of the denial of God. Romans 2:1-16 sharply rebukes the one who judges others, perhaps by way of anticipating ch. 14 with its more extended affirmation of the perils of judging others. all are responsible before God, who is the only true judge (14:10-12). In 2:17-29, Paul explicitly addresses Jews with the possibility that they instruct others while not themselves learning, that they rightly perceive circumcision as a value without understanding the requirement attached. Paul W. Meyer is surely correct to insist that this address not be understood as implying some flaw peculiar to Judaism but as revealing the difficulty inherent in sincere religious conviction.18 In other words, the end of Romans 2 addresses those who genuinely undertake to pursue God's will.<br />This section of the letter culminates in 3:9 with the conclusion that "all, both Jews and Greeks, are under the power of Sin." The NRSV supplies the noun "power" where none exists in the Greek text, yet "power" is surely to be inferred.19 Those behaviors paraded in 1:18-2:29 are not simply symptoms of an intellect set against God. Quite the opposite: 2:17-24 concerns those who would honor God. Instead, Paul's review of human behavior points to the reality of a power named Sin that holds human beings in its grasp. So firm is the control that even the great advantages conveyed upon Israel by God cannot immunize Israel against Sin's power (3:1-8).<br />In Romans 6, Sin's enslaving grasp comes into full and unmistakable view. The chapter opens as a rebuttal of the possible conclusion that God's grace permits antinomianism ("Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound?" 6:1). Paul responds with an extended contrast that plays on the language of life and death. Those baptized into Christ's own death are simply dead to Sin-its power is shattered. All ambiguity falls aside in the second half of the chapter, where the image of Sin as the slave-owner is explicit. Sin was formerly the owner of these slaves (6:16-20). In that condition, they were enslaved to "impurity" and to "iniquity" (6:19). The only possible outcome of this slavery to Sin was death (6:20-22).<br />Not only did Sin enter and enslave but Sin's résumé includes the unleashing of its cosmic partner, Death. When Paul introduces the extravagant contrast between Adam and Christ in 5:12-21, he connects the entry of Sin with that of Death: "Death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned" (5:12). Death itself "exercised dominion" (5:14, 17). Death is the very "wage" of Sin (6:23). Not surprisingly, the language of Death is, like that of Sin noted earlier, more extensive in Romans than in Paul's other letters.20 Elsewhere Paul may anticipate his own physical mortality as the opportunity to be with Christ (Phil 1:21-23; 2 Cor 5:1-9), but here Death is a force introduced by Sin (see also 1 Cor 15:56).21<br />Perhaps the most disturbing element in the résumé of Sin is the claim made in ch. 7 that Sin is capable of exerting power even over the law. In his landmark study of Romans 7, "The Worm at the Core of the Apple," Paul W. Meyer redirected attention from preoccupation with the supposedly divided "I" (ego] to the workings of Sin; Sin continues to be the topic in 7:7-25, now focused as the question, "Is the law of God itself the equivalent of Sin?"22 Paul vehemently denies the equation, yet he simultaneously insists that Sin has used the law for its own purposes. A series of expressions conveys this point:<br />Sin "seizing an opportunity [base of operations] in the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness" (v. 8).<br />Sin "seizing an opportunity [base of operations] in the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me" (v. 11).<br />Sin brought death by "working death in me through what is good" (v. 13).<br />Because Sin is capable of using even the holy law of God, it can produce the crisis described in w. 14-20. In Meyer's view, then, the "law of sin" (7:23, 25; 8:2) is the law as it has been possessed by Sin.23 Sin has proven capable of producing a cleavage in God's own "holy, just, and good" law: "The transcendentally (kath' hyperbolen) demonic nature of sin is its power to pervert the highest and best in all human piety, typified by the best in Paul's world, his own commitment to God's holy commandment, in such a way as to produce death in place of the promised life."24<br />Brought together, these "achievements" of Sins résumé create the portrait of a cosmic terrorist. Sin not only entered the cosmos with Adam, it enslaved, it unleashed Death itself, it even managed to take the law of God captive to its power. This résumé of Sin's accomplishments requires something more than a generous God who forgives and forgets, and something entirely other than a Jesus who allows people to improve themselves by following the example of his good behavior. Sin cannot be avoided or passed over, it can only be either served or defeated.<br />The most important element in Paul's treatment of Sin in Romans, however, is the gospel itself. Before the first word about God's wrath has been uttered, Paul has already introduced the gospel as God's own saving power (1:16-17). When he returns to that point in 3:21-26 to clarify it, he explicitly identifies God's offering up of Jesus Christ in death as the apocalypse of God's gracious defeat of Sin. As God once handed humanity over to Sin, God has now handed over the Son Jesus Christ for Sin's defeat (1:24, 26, 28; 8:32). God's power revealed in the gospel, then, is far greater than God's mere ability to forgive the sins of those who assent to a set of propositions about Jesus Christ. It is God's own power to redeem all of creation (see 8:19-23) from the grasp of powers arrayed against God.25<br />Because of God's powerful and gracious victory, Paul can contrast the achievement of Adam with that of Christ (5:12-21). By presenting the implacable consequences of Adam's transgression, Paul sets up the comparison that follows in order to show that the consequences of Christ's obedience are even more astonishing than the consequences of Adam's transgression. To begin with, the consequences are diametrically opposed to one another, the entry of Death on the one hand and justification on the other. In addition, the two actions start from different positions, since Christ's act does not begin simply where Adam's ended; Christ's act begins with the entire human consequence of Adam's act. Most important, the grace that follows from Christ's act "abounded all the more" (5:20); it multiplied even more than had the fearsome implications of Sin. No longer is Sin the enslaving power, it is now grace that exercises dominion.<br />The question that presses immediately is what it means to say that God has rescued humanity from Sin, that there is genuine death to Sin, when the evidence of human conduct runs overwhelmingly in the opposite direction. Romans itself demonstrates that Paul understands that being a "slave of righteousness" and "free from Sin" does not carry with it immunity to transgression. Whether the admonitions of 12:1-15:13 address some particular problem in the Roman house-churches or whether they are what Paul would offer anywhere, they clearly display a frank realism about human behavior. (At the very least, Paul's dealings with the Corinthians should have undermined any exaggerated notions he had about Christian perfection.) On the one hand, to be freed from the power of Sin is not the same thing as being without flaw or incapable of transgression (sin in the lower-case). On the other hand, being free from the power of Sin means that the gospel actually does change human lives. In Romans, as elsewhere in Paul's letters, the gospel brings about transformation of the mind so that the human eye may see what God is doing and perceive God's will (12:1-2; see also 2 Cor 5:16-17). Paul addresses the Romans as people who are gifted by God with hope (5:1-5), joy (15:13), and peace (5:1; 14:17; 15:13). These are not simply private spiritual possessions; rather, they manifest themselves for the upbuilding of the common life, as comes to expression often in 12:1-15:13.<br />THE RÉSUMÉ OF SIN AND THE COSMIC STORY<br />To take seriously the résumé of Sin will require an enlargement of our view of Romans. Recent decades of Pauline scholarship have rightly called into question those interpretations that treat Romans as having to do largely with the relationship between God and the individual. The scholarly pendulum has swung in the opposite direction, emphasizing the concern in Romans for God's dealings with Israel and the Gentiles. Yet even that important correction does not suffice, since the "widescreen" version of Romans is not only about the relationship among ethnic groups, between God and humanity, or God and the individual. It concerns the much larger apocalyptic battle in which God wages war against anti-God powers, including the powers of Sin and Death.26<br />In addition to the depiction of Sin and Death as cosmic powers, the sheerest view that Romans affords us of this apocalyptic conflict comes in Romans 8. At the culmination of his celebration of the future glory of a creation liberated from futility and decay, Paul returns to the present to ask who might threaten "us," that large family of God's children (8:33): "Who will bring any charge against God's elect?" The scene here is one of conflict, and Paul delights in parading before his hearers the names of those Powers that might seek to harm God's chosen: hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, and the sword. No mere survivors, "we" are "more than conquerors" in the face of the litany of powers that follows, the first of which is Sin's cosmic partner, Death. The gospel of God's handing over of Jesus Christ to crucifixion, of the resurrection, and of the triumphant place at God's right hand has already secured victory over all these things (8:34). When Paul speaks of the "love of God in Christ Jesus," it is no sentimental valentine but a fierce love that rescues creation itself (8:39).<br />The closing lines of Romans epitomize this conflict. In 16:20, Paul completes a warning about deceitful people with the words, "The God of peace will shortly crush Satan under your feet."27 As one of the names given in biblical and post-biblical literature to the one opposed to God, Satan is more than adequate as a shorthand reference to the anti-God powers, prominent among whom is Sin itself.28 Any lingering notion that the anti-God powers, including Sin, are to be defeated by human strength fails on these words. The Romans are admonished to be wise and to avoid evil (16:19), but it is God who crushes Satan beneath their feet.<br />Corroboration for this apocalyptic battle between God and the anti-God powers appears across the Pauline corpus. First Thessalonians, widely regarded as Paul's earliest letter, does not explicitly speak of the defeat of God's enemies, but the battle imagery of 4:13-18 and 5:1-11 is consistent with an expectation that the parousia is something more than the point in time at which Jesus returns to collect his faithful followers. It is a triumphant victory in contested territory. More explicit is Gal 1:4, with its description of Jesus Christ as "the one who gave himself on behalf of our sins that he might rescue us from the present evil age according to the will of God the father." The most explicit treatment comes in 1 Corinthians 15, with its anticipation of "the end, when [Jesus] hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death" (15:24-26). Here there is no ambiguity: God has enemies with real power, chief among them Death itself. In 1 Corinthians 15, where Paul insistently couples denial of the resurrection with denial of God's own power, Death takes the leading role among God's enemies. Yet Sin also makes an appearance here, once again linked with Death, in 15:56.<br />BUT SOMEONE WILL SAY. . . .<br />The most immediate objection to this understanding of Sin in Romans is that it takes literally something that is simply a metaphorical device. Commentary after commentary identifies as an anthropomorphism Paul's practice of making hamartia the subject of a verb (e.g., 5:12, 13, 20). On this line of reasoning, Paul is merely making his writing vivid by means of a standard literary device. At least two possible arguments in favor of this objection should be mentioned. In the first place, Paul occasionally refers to sin as merely something a person does that is wrong, as in the use of the verb "sin" in 2:12 and 3:23. Yet this argument is not persuasive, because it is exactly in these passages that Paul undertakes to demonstrate the workings of Sin's power. That he finds himself drawing on the language in a variety of ways (verb, noun, adjective) is not surprising. A second possible argument in favor of the notion that Paul is merely using a literary device notes that Paul also employs other terms, such as "grace" and "righteousness," in ways that are analogous to his use of Sin. In Rom 5:20, for example, Paul speaks of grace abounding, and in 6:15 he contrasts being "under law" with being "under grace." In context, however, grace may well be a power analogous (and opposed) to the power of Sin, precisely because here grace is a shorthand reference to God's saving power revealed in the gospel of Jesus Christ.<br />To speak of Sin as a power is not to claim to peer into Paul's mind and see there the existence of a literal character by the name of Sin. Yet both Paul's language about Sin itself and the cosmic apocalyptic thrust of his letter seem to require that the notion of Sin as a power that sets itself over against God be taken seriously. To dismiss it as only a literary device runs the risk of trivializing.<br />A second possible objection is that, whatever Paul may have believed, contemporary Christians cannot find themselves in this cosmic apocalyptic battleground. The shadow of Rudolf Bultmann's insistence that the New Testament be demythologized lingers, most strenuously represented in recent discussion of Paul by Troels Engberg-Pedersen. EngbergPedersen claims, with admirable directness, that "we" simply cannot take seriously the mythological element in Paul: "By far most of Paul's basic world-view, in other words, the basic apocalyptic and cosmological outlook that was his, does not constitute a real option for us now-in the way in which it was understood by Paul."29 It may well be that Paul's understanding of the gospel as God's invasion of a world enslaved to Sin and Death is not within our imaginative powers, although the vast appetite for the stories of J. K. Rowling and J. R. R. Tolkien prompts me to suspect otherwise. At the very least, it would seem to be the obligation of Christians to entertain the possibility that Paul might be right and "we" might be wrong.<br />Even those who do wish to take the language seriously may be troubled by the imagery, however. Particularly Christians who daily see the consequences of a willingness-even eagerness-to engage in military action in God's name rightly resist any facile baptism of human conflict with language drawn from biblical texts. Yet the text will not let us off the hook. It stands as an invitation, not to identify our battles with God's own or to cloak our aggression in Paul's terminology, but as an invitation to see that the conflict imagery Paul employs has to do with God's actions on behalf of creation, not human actions distorted to replace God's own.<br />WHAT IS AT STAKE?<br />As prominent as the vocabulary of Sin is in Romans, it is only one piece of a rich and dense argument. Brendan Byrne's essay in this issue gives some indication that research and publication on Romans these days is a booming enterprise. Lively interest in Paul's interpretation of the Old Testament, the ethnic conflicts that appear to stand behind the letter, ongoing interest in Paul's understanding of Judaism, argumentative style, the roles of the women named in Romans 16, the extensive discussion of the purpose of the letter-most of these are more congenial topics than that of Paul's treatment of Sin. It is easy to imagine someone asking whether preachers and teachers may not just leave this issue aside for something more attractive, especially since conversation about Sin renders most of us tiresome or judgmental, or perhaps both.<br />Fraught with danger as the topic may be, it is an essential feature of the widescreen Romans, the one in which God invades creation in the death of Jesus Christ, releases human beings from the grasp of Sin, and transforms those believers into God's own children who await their ultimate final redemption as slaves of righteousness. Apart from the larger theological context, these other issues are distorted by a "pan and scan" editing process that isolates their importance. Without an understanding of the enslaving grasp of Sin, ethnic tensions between Jew and Gentile are mere social relations, while for Paul they are a matter of the unity of humankind in doxological response to God's action for all humankind. Without an understanding of Sin's power to corrupt even the law, the question of law-observance for Gentiles becomes simply a matter of lowering the price of admission so as to attract as many converts as possible. Paul's interpretation of the Old Testament is merely a series of intriguing intellectual guessing games, unless it is understood that he puts Scripture and everything else available to him at work for the urgent task of conveying God's actions. Yet the widescreen edition of the gospel as viewed in Romans has to do with God's revealing invasion in Jesus Christ of a cosmos in the grip of Sin, of Death, subject to peril and sword and all the rest of the Powers of this age. Without viewing that widescreen edition, the rest of these issues may stimulate the intellectual appetite, but they offer little that is of nutritional value.<br />This apocalyptic context is, in other words, essential for understanding Paul. It is no less essential for understanding our own situation. A visit to the front pages of the daily newspaper should be sufficient to nudge us back to this uncomfortable topic. In 1995, well before the events of September 2001 and their aftermath, Andrew Delbanco published The Death of Satan, in which he traced what he termed the "unnaming" of evil, the gradual decline of talk about evil in American cultural life.30 Evil is either denied altogether or reified into "the blamable other-who can always be counted on to spare us the exigencies of examining ourselves."31<br />Paul's language is that of Sin rather than evil, of course. Paul's Romans urgently demands not simply that we recognize the Sin in the world out there, or even that we recognize the evil in ourselves-in our very best selves. Paul's Romans shows us that the battle against evil is not fought by reducing it to a laundry list of transgressions and trying really hard to avoid them. Nor is it fought by identifying evil in other people and restraining or eradicating them. Evil is God's own enemy. The gospel Paul proclaims is that God has not left us alone and powerless. In Jesus Christ, God has already broken Death and Sin and will finally crush Satan on our behalf. Confidence in that word is the beginning of peace and joy and the obedience of faith.<br />[Footnote] 1 The statement appears in the closing paragraph in Gustaf Aulén's Christus Victor, trans. A. G. Herbert (London: SPCK, 1931) 176. The context makes clear that Aulén understands the triumph to be accomplished by God. 2 Nole, however, that the word group is proportionately more pervasive in the far briefer 1 John, which employs the word hamartia and its cognates a combination of 27 times. 3 The scholarly literature on Romans is vast, and this essay makes no claim to chronicle current debates. Among more recent commentaries, the bibliographies in the following will be particularly helpful for those who wish to join the discussion: B. Byrne, Romans, Sacra Pagina 6 (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 1996); J. D. G. Dunn, Romans, 2 vols., Word (Dallas: Word Books, 1988); J. A. Fitzmyer, Romans, AB 33 (New York: Doubleday, 1993); D. Moo, The Epistle to the Romans, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996). 4 A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994) 184, emphasis added. The focus on Gentiles in the quotation is deliberate. Stowers largely follows a line of interpretation developed by Lloyd Gaston and John Gager, arguing that Israel continues to be related to God through the covenant and the law, while the Gentiles require salvation through the gospel. See the illuminating reviews by R. Hays, CRBR 9 (1996) 27-44; and J. Barclay, JBL 115 (1996) 365-68. 5 T. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and the Stoics (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2000) 207, emphasis in the original. See the important review by J. L. Martyn in JSNT 86 (2002) 61-102. 6 It is necessary to read those earlier commentators with care. In Stowers (Rereading, 143), C. E. B. Cranfield serves as an example because Cranfield writes that Paul implies "that all contemporary Jews are guilty of the evils" described in Romans 2. Yet Cranfield's very next sentence runs as follows: "It is anyway of course quite certain that there were many Jews in Paul's day who were not guilty of theft, adultery or temple-robbing (or sacrilege), in the ordinary sense of the words" (The Epistle to the Romans, 2 vols., ICC [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1975, 1979] 1:168). 7 Rereading Romans, 176. 8 On the anti-God powers and their role in Paul's thinking, see J. L. Martyn, Galatians, AB 33A (New York: Doubleday, 1997) 370-73. 9 Prominent earlier advocates of an interpretation of Romans in the context of apocalyptic theology are E. Käseniann (Commentary on Romans [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980]) and J. C. Beker (Paul the Apostle [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980]). 10 Excellent examples of the differences between widescreen or "letterbox" versions and "pan and scan" editing can be viewed at </strong><a href="http://www.widescreen.org/"><strong>www.widescreen.org</strong></a><strong>. 11 In Rom 7:8 and 11, Paul writes that Sin seized the law as an aphorme, which the NRSV translates as an "opportunity." A stronger translation is needed, given that the term refers to the starting point for an expedition (F. W. Danker et al., A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd ed. [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000] 158). 12 Note, however, that the verb hamartanein occurs at 2:12. 13 For a suggestive interpretation of idolatry, particularly in relationship to the Holocaust and to the sexual abuse of children, see A. McFadyen, Bound to Sin: Abuse, Holocaust, and the Christian Doctrine of Sin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 14 One of the many unfortunate byproducts of the various denominational wars on homosexuality is that discussion of this powerful passage has been confined to questions of sexuality. That debate thereby obscures Paul's powerful depiction of a humankind that refuses to acknowledge God or its own status as creature. Such preoccupation with a single issue also precludes, conveniently so, all consideration of the manifold ways in which human denial of God comes to expression. 15 The verb paradidomi sometimes appears in contexts having to do with giving someone or something up to a foe, as in a military context. For examples, see the LXX Lev 26:25; 1 Esdr 8:74; Ezra 9:7, and note also the extrabiblical examples cited in Danker, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament, 762. 16 See particularly Wis 13:1-9 and 14:22-31. A good discussion of the connections between this passage and earlier Jewish attitudes toward non-Jews appears in Fitzmyer, Romans, 269-90. 17 Romans 16:1 recommends Phoebe to the recipients of the letter, which surely means that she is the bearer of it, the one who will read it, and thereby its first interpreter. 18 P. W. Meyer, "Romans" in HarperCollins Bible Commentary, ed. J. L. Mays et al. (2nd ed.; New York: HarperCollins, 2000) 1045; now available also in The Word in This World: Essays in New Testament Exegesis and Theology, ed. J. T. Carroll, NTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2004) 165. 19 On this construction and its importance, especially in Galatians, see Martyn, Galatians, 370-72. 20 The noun thanatos appears in the undisputed Pauline letters 45 times, 22 of which are in Romans. 21 On the role of death, particularly in the larger context of Paul's apocalyptic theology, see M. C. deBoer, The Defeat of Death: Apocalyptic Eschalology in 1 Corinthians 15 and Romans 5, JSNTS 22 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1988); idem, "Paul, Theologian of God's Apocalypse,'1 Interpretation 56 (2002) 21-33. 22" [T]he central protagonist in the whole of 7:7-25-not just in vv. 7-12-the adversary of that 'I," is not the law at all but sin as a personified power" (P. W. Meyer, "The Worm at the Core of the Apple: Exegetical Reflections on Romans 7," in The Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul and John in Honor of J. Louis Martyn, ed. R. T. Fortna and B. R. Gaventa [Nashville: Abingdon, 1990] 62-84, quotation p. 73; now available also in The Word in This World, 57-77). 23 Instead of imagining that Paul employs several different connotations for the word "law" in this single passage ("Torah" versus "norm" or "custom"), Meyer takes the expression "law of Sin" as a possessive referring to the law insofar as it is under Sin's control or in Sin's possession (Meyer, "The Worm," 76-80). See the further development of this point in J. L. Martyn, "Nomos Plus Genitive Noun in Paul: The History of God's Law," in Early Christianity and Classical Culture: Comparative Studies in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe, ed. J. T. Fitzgerald, T. H. Olbricht, and L. M. White, NovTSup 110 (Leiden: Brill, 2003) 575-87. 24 lbid., 74. 25 On this much-disputed topic of God's righteousness, a helpful introduction is that of Charles B. Cousar, The Letters of Paul, Interpreting Biblical Texts (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996) 108-12. 26 My indebtedness here in particular to the work of Ernst Käsemann, J. Christiaan Beker, and J. Louis Martyn will be evident. 27 Because the word Satan does not appear elsewhere in Romans, and because the letter has made no earlier reference to a group of deceivers or dissenters, it is sometimes suggested that 16:17-20 is an interpolation into the letter. There is, however, no manuscript evidence in support of that suggestion (see Dunn, Romans, 901; Fitzmyer, Romans, 745). 28 See, for example, 1 Chron 21:1; Job 1-2, Zech 3:1-2; 1 Enoch 53:3; 54:6. Paul does use the word Satan elsewhere; see 1 Cor 5:5; 7:5; 2 Cor 2:11; 11:14; 12:7; 1 Thess 2:18. 29 Paul and the Stoics, 17. 30 The Death of Satan: How Americans Have Lost the Sense of Evil (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1995) 4. 31 Ibid., 234.<br />[Author Affiliation] BEVERLY ROBERTS GAVENTA Professor of New Testament Princeton Theological Seminary </strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1115418679612495982004-11-25T15:30:00.000-08:002005-05-08T23:53:34.263-07:00The Righteousness of the Law and the Righteousness of Faith in Romans<img src="http://www.heartnsoul.com/angels/st_paul.gif"/><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The Righteousness of the Law and the Righteousness of Faith in Romans </span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><em>Stephen Westerholm. Interpretation. Richmond: Jul 2004.Vol.58, Iss. 3; pg. 253, 12 pgs Copyright Interpretation Jul 2004</em></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>"Righteousness" is normally what one ought to do, and the "righteous" are those who do it. Paul sees the law of Moses as explicating "righteousness" required of all human beings and "justification by faith" as the extraordinary path to "righteousness" offered by God to the unrighteous of all nations.<br />Most readers of the New Testament would, I imagine, have little trouble identifying the following text as Pauline: "Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" (Rom 5:1). Not nearly so many, I suspect, would readily link Paul's name with a verse found earlier in the same epistle: "For it is not the hearers of the law who are righteous in God's sight, but the doers of the law who will be justified" (2:13). Nor is the difficulty of associating the latter verse with Paul confined to casual readers of the Bible: Pauline scholars have commonly found much in Romans 2 "unPauline" and attributed parts or the whole of the chapter to an interpolator,1 to material borrowed but not assimilated by the apostle,2 or to Paul's assuming, for the sake of the argument, the perspective of his opponents.3 One way or another, Paul did not mean-he could not have meant-that "the doers of the law . . . will be justified."<br />Alas, the thesis of Rom 2:13 is not as isolated in the Pauline corpus as it seems to those who explain it away. The notion that doers of the law will be found righteous is presumably what Paul has in mind when he speaks elsewhere of the "righteousness that comes from the law" (Rom 10:5; Phil 3:9). To be sure, Paul contrasts the righteousness of the law with that of faith, and it is the path of faith that he advocates. The explanation lies near to hand, then, that the righteousness of the law is, for Paul, no more than the so-called "righteousness" pursued by others, as he himself had pursued it in the past. Such an understanding would fit well with the view that Paul attempts to refute opponents on their own grounds in Romans 2. Yet nowhere in the chapter does Paul hint that the premises of his argument are not his own. Indeed, Romans 2 is replete with biblical themes and echoes of biblical texts: would Paul have formulated in these terms a position with which he himself disagreed? And though elsewhere advocating the righteousness of faith rather than that of the law, when Paul articulates the operative principle of the latter, he quotes not opponents whom he can dismiss as misguided, but Moses himself-whose words are not readily dismissed (Rom 10:5; cf. Gal 3:12). In Paul's mind, a "righteousness" propounded by Moses in Scripture cannot be of the "so-called" variety.<br />No doubt some of the confusion that surrounds "justification by faith" in contemporary Pauline scholarship is related to the widespread failure to find a place in Paul's thought for the righteousness of the law with which he compares it. Before we turn to these topics, however, something must be said of "righteousness" language itself.<br />THE LANGUAGE OF "RIGHTEOUSNESS"<br />When the Matthean Jesus declares those "blessed" who "hunger and thirst for righteousness" (Matt 5:6), commentators are quick to point out that, in the Matthean text, "righteousness" (dikaiosyne) does not mean the divine gift of "justification,"4 but denotes right conduct on the part of human beings.5 The meaning assigned to "righteousness" in Matthew (in implicit or explicit contrast with Paul) is in fact the ordinary meaning of the term throughout the Scriptures: broadly speaking, "righteousness" is what one ought to do, and to "declare" people "righteous" (or "justify" them) is to find them to have done what they ought.<br />A few illustrations must suffice.6 According to LXX Ezek 18:5,7 the "righteous" person practices judgment and "righteousness"; what is entailed in the practice of "righteousness" is spelled out in a list of things to be done (vv. 6-9). The cases of a sinful child and a righteous grandchild of one who is righteous are then discussed, and it is insisted that the righteous will live because of the righteousness that they themselves have done, whereas the one who sins will die. According to LXX Ezek 33:13, 18, all the "righteousnesses" (dikaiosyne is here read in the plural) that the "righteous" have done will be forgotten if they turn from their "righteousness" and commit acts of lawlessness. That the "righteous" person is the one who does "righteousness" may seem tautological, but the author of 1 John thinks it a truth too easily overlooked: "Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right [literally, "does righteousness"] is righteous, just as he is righteous" (3:7).<br />The verb "declare righteous" or "justify" is commonly used in judicial contexts, where it means "find innocent of wrongdoing," "acquit." Several Septuagintal texts underline the importance of "justifying" ("declaring righteous") the "righteous" and the wrongfulness of "justifying" ("declaring righteous") the "ungodly" (Exod 23:7; Deut 25:1; Isa 5:23; cf. Sir 9:12). Note that the judgment by which either the righteous (rightly) or the wicked (wrongly) are declared to be righteous affects neither the righteousness of the former nor the wickedness of the latter: righteous and wicked they remain, though in the latter instance justice has been subverted (so Deut 16:19; cf. Prov 17:15, 26). It is thus not the case that "the 'righteous' one is that one in a legal action ... who wins his case or is acquitted."8 The righteous are those who ought to prevail in court-because they are righteous-whether or not this happens.<br />It is sometimes suggested that "righteousness" language, when understood in a "Hebrew" rather than a "Greek" way, is "covenantal."9 The truth in the claim lies in the clear obligation of those who enter a covenant to keep the commitments they make when they enter it. Still, "righteousness" itself pertains to all that one ought to do, whether or not one is party to a covenant.10 The contrast between the "righteous" and the "wicked," together with that between the "wise" and "fools," is perhaps the central motif of the book of Proverbs. Yet the framework of Proverbs is not covenantal. Since God "by wisdom" created heaven and earth (Prov 3:19), it behooves human beings everywhere to gain "wisdom" and to govern their lives accordingly (so showing themselves "wise" and "righteous") if they would prosper. According to Genesis 18, Sodom's destruction would have been avoided had its citizens included ten who were "righteous" (18:23-32): though no party to a covenant, they were expected to be "righteous." Conversely, those who do belong to the covenant people of God are not thought to be "righteous" for that reason. Israel was set apart from the nations as "holy" (Deut 7:6), but Deuteronomy flatly denies that its people were "righteous" (9:4-6). Nor is covenant membership the issue when Israelite judges decide the "rightness" of particular complaints. Egregious wrongs excluded wrongdoers from the community. But not all cases involved egregious wrong in which judges (or God) were to "declare the righteous to be in the right, rewarding them according to their righteousness" (LXX 1 Kgs [= 3 Kgdms] 8:32).<br />Throughout the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, then, "righteous" and "wicked" are found side by side, in Israel and among other nations. The two are distinguished by their deeds. And whether one is "righteous" or "wicked" matters supremely when God judges the world and all its people in righteousness (LXX Ps 9:9; 95:13; 97:9).<br />If the ordinary sense of "righteousness" in the Scriptures is "what one ought to do," it would be extremely odd if Paul did not betray a similar usage; so odd the apostle was not. Note, for example, the contrast Paul frequently draws between "righteousness" (and its cognates) and "sin" (and its synonyms)-that is, between what one ought to do and what one ought not. The claim that all are "under the power of sin" (Rom 3:9) is confirmed by the scriptural declaration that not a single person is "righteous." The declaration is immediately expanded upon by various representations of human turpitude (3:10-18). If one would scarcely die for a person who is "righteous," how much more astounding is it that Christ died for "sinners" (Rom 5:7-8)? "Righteousness," moreover, has nothing in common with "lawlessness" (2 Cor 6:14). Readers in Romans 6 are urged to devote themselves to the service of "righteousness" rather than to that of "sin" (or "impurity," "iniquity"; 6:18, 19). Paul is not aware of wrongdoing on his part. But since the Lord, not he, is the only competent judge of such matters, Paul acknowledges that he cannot be "found righteous" (or "justified"; NRSV "acquitted") on the basis merely of what he knows about himself (1 Cor 4:4).11<br />Righteousness, then, for Paul as for the rest of Scripture, frequently means "what one ought to do." How does Paul conceive human obligation? His most telling discussion is in Rom 1:18-32, where he elaborates on a charge of unrighteousness (adikia) brought against all humanity (1:18).<br />For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness [adikia, "unrighteousness"] of those who by their wickedness [adikia] suppress the truth.<br />In the argument that follows, those who would flaunt their imagined freedom from obligations that they choose not to embrace are tersely dismissed. We are born into a world not of our making, and incur thereby, and in the course of living, obligations that we may shirk or defy but are in no position to set aside. God, as God, is to be worshiped by God's creatures (1:19-21, 25). As the creator and benefactor of human beings, God is due their honor and thanks (1:21). Moreover, what is appropriate to human sexuality was determined when humans were created as sexual beings and is to be respected in human behavior (1:26-27). Human beings are further bound to respect the lives of their fellows, to devise no ill against them, to speak the truth about them, to keep faith in their commitments, to show compassion where compassion is called for-and so on (1:28-32). These basic obligations of "righteousness" are seen as inherent in the lot of all human beings-and all at some level know both what they ought to do and that God rightly condemns those who refuse to do it (1:32).<br />Two observations about Paul's argument are worth making here. First, Paul speaks (implicitly) of the requirement of "righteousness" and (explicitly) of the condemnation of "unrighteousness" without referring to the Mosaic law. The law was given to Israel, but the obligation to practice righteousness is universal.<br />Second, although divine expectations of righteous behavior on the part of all human beings and, accordingly, divine judgment of all are spelled out most fully in Romans, they are implicit in all Paul's letters wherever he considers human behavior sinful or anticipates divine judgment. The Thessalonians had responded to the gospel in order to be delivered from the outpouring of divine wrath that awaits sinful humanity (1:10; 5:3-10). In Corinth, too, Paul's efforts were directed toward "saving" all he could (1 Cor 9:22; 10:33) in view of the condemnation that awaits the "world" "outside" the church (1 Cor 1:18; 5:13; 11:32)-because its people fail to live as they ought (cf. 1 Cor 6:1, 9-10; 2 Cor 6:14). The Philippians, by believing the gospel, had themselves escaped the perdition that awaits a "crooked and perverse generation" (2:15; cf. 1:28).<br />None of this should surprise us: no religious Jew doubted that God expected people, all people, to do what is right (admittedly, Jews differed in their understanding of the extent and nature of those obligations) and would judge those who did not. Paul's notions of what we may call "ordinary righteousness" were quite at home in contemporary Jewish circles.<br />THE (ORDINARY) RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE LAW<br />According to Romans 2, God will one day "repay" all according to their "deeds": those-Jews and non-Jews alike-who have done what is "good" will be granted eternal life; those-Jews and non-Jews alike-who have done evil will face "anguish and distress" (2:5-11). Clearly the demand for what is "good" in these verses parallels the expectation of (ordinary) "righteousness" outlined above, just as the "evil" of 2:8-9 corresponds to the "unrighteousness" condemned in 1:18. To this point, the divine requirements made of all human beings continue to be discussed without mention of the Jewish law.<br />The law is introduced in 2:12. Those who possess it will be judged by it; those without the law will be judged without reference to its provisions. But what the law requires of its adherents, in this passage, is simply the "good" expected of all human beings, as spelled out in the immediately preceding verses. If 2:6-11 declares that those who do the good will be granted eternal life, 2:13 restates the same principle in its claim that "the doers of the law" will be "justified" (or "declared righteous").12 One might suppose that only Jews (who "hear" the law) could be its "doers"; but Paul, bent on showing that Jews and Gentiles are judged by the same criterion, insists that this is not the case. Gentiles too, he notes, do things that the law commands, and whenever they do so, they show that they too are aware of "what the law requires." It has been "written on their hearts" (2:14-15; cf. 1:32). Hence, Gentiles no less than Jews are required to be "doers of the law" if they are to be found "righteous" on the day of judgment (2:13).<br />Paul's point has often been missed because of the confusion provoked by his reference to Gentiles who do "what the law requires" (2:14). Did he (readers have often wondered) envisage the possibility of Gentiles being deemed "righteous" because their deeds are acceptable to God? The answer to that question is that such a question cannot be answered, at least on the basis of this verse: it is simply not discussed.13 Paul wants to show that Gentiles and Jews are subject to the same criterion of judgment (they must do what is "good"; 2:7, 10), even though Jews, but not Gentiles, possess the law. Assuming that what the law requires is the goodness expected of every human being, Paul insists that Gentiles, too, are aware of their obligations: witness the times they do what the law commands, as well as the activity of their own consciences and thoughts in approving or disapproving what they do.<br />In this passage, then, the law of Moses is not thought to provide Jews with a path to "righteousness" that is peculiar to themselves; it merely gives them unique guidance about the goodness required of all. Still, it is doubtless of benefit to have one's obligations enunciated clearly: possession of the law enables Jews to instruct Gentiles in their mutual responsibilities. But the ability to communicate a command docs not exempt the communicators from their own obligation to observe it.<br />You, then, that [as a Jew; see v. 17] teach others, will you not teach yourself? While you preach against stealing, do you steal? You that forbid adultery, do you commit adultery? You that abhor idols, do you rob temples? (2:21-22)<br />Circumcision is introduced into the discussion in vv. 25-29; the same point is being made. The only "circumcision" that matters in the end is the spiritual "circumcision" shown by those-whether or not they are physically circumcised-who actually do what the law commands. Paul posits the various possibilities: a circumcised Jew who keeps the law (his circumcision has value; v. 25a); a circumcised Jew who transgresses the law (his circumcision has no value; v. 25b); and an uncircumcised non-Jew who keeps it (his uncircumcision amounts to the circumcision that has value; w. 26-27). (The case of the uncircumcised non-Jew who does not keep the law is omitted since it is of no use to the argument.) In no case is it part of Paul's argument to affirm that there are individuals who fill each category.14 His point is that keeping the (moral requirements of the) law is what matters-for Jews and Gentiles, circumcised and (physically) uncircumcised, alike.<br />In Romans 2, then, Paul finds in the law a statement of the requirements of goodness incumbent on all human beings. The same understanding is implicit elsewhere in Romans. To support his claim that the law itself is "good," Paul notes in ch. 7 that what the law commands is "holy and just [dikaia] and good" (7:12). He means not that conduct otherwise neutral becomes "just" ("righteous") and "good" when (and because) the law commands it, but that behavior that is righteous and good is spelled out in the law. In 7:16, the law is again recognized as "good" because (as the context makes clear) what it commands is recognized as "the good I want." According to 4:15 and 5:13, sin exists in the world even apart from law (e.g., murder was wrong even before the law was given). However, when the law's demands were made (e.g., "You shall not murder"), deeds (such as murder) that were sinful in any case became also transgressions of the law.<br />Such an understanding of the Mosaic law is not peculiar to Paul. Beginning at least with Sir 24:23 (but see already Deut 4:6-8!), Jewish thought had identified the "wisdom" by which all human beings should live with the Mosaic Torah.15 Those familiar with GrecoRoman thought stressed Torah's agreement with "nature."16 In principle, those who presented the Mosaic law in these terms either had to focus exclusively on its moral demands or insist that its "ceremonial" commands, too, were binding on all humankind. Paul takes the former approach. Not only are the commands he cites exclusively moral (2:21-22); physical circumcision is discussed as though its presence, while potentially "of value," is quite a separate matter from the fulfillment of the law (2:25-27). The law of which all are expected to be "doers" (2:13) amounts to the moral demands of the Mosaic Torah.<br />But no human being, according to Rom 3:9-20, is "righteous" in this way. Summing up the whole argument, Paul writes, "'No human being [literally, "no flesh"] will be justified in [God's] sight' by deeds prescribed by the law" (3:20, echoing LXX Ps 142:2); that is, no one who does not do the good required of human beings can be declared righteous on the basis of a law that articulates the requirement.17 Far from contradicting Rom 2:13, the judgment of 3:20 presupposes its truth: the fundamental principle of the righteousness of the law is that the "doers of the law [and only the "doers," not mere "hearers"] will be justified." That no one meets the requirement is, in effect, an accident of human history. The requirement itself stands firm.<br />The same principle is expressed in Gal 3:12, here in a quotation from Lev 18:5: "Whoever does the works of the law [literally, "does them," i.e., the requirements spelled out in the law] will live by them." To be a "doer of the law" (Rom 2:13) is to be one who "does" what it requires (Gal 3:12). Such a person is promised life in Gal 3:12; he or she is deemed "righteous" and granted eternal life in Romans 2. Romans 10:5 provides the missing link between the verses: the basic principle of the law is repeated in the terms of Gal 3:12 (the same quotation from Lev 18:5 is given), but the principle itself is labeled the "righteousness that comes from the law," showing (as does Rom 2:13) that "doing" what the law commands is the path to being recognized as "righteous" in God's eyes.<br />In Galatians, the topic is addressed because Paul's Gentile converts had been told that they needed to be circumcised and to submit to the (distinctively Jewish) requirements of the Mosaic law if they wanted to belong to God's people. Paul responds, however, not by arguing against the importance of particular demands of the law, but by insisting that the law itself, inasmuch as it requires obedience to its demands, can hardly serve as a path to righteousness for "sinners" who have broken its requirements (cf. 2:15-17). Rather, it encounters them as a curse (3:10), confining them under the power of "sin" until God's redemption in Christ is revealed (3:21-26).<br />The "righteousness that comes from the law" is introduced in Romans 10 only after the point has repeatedly been made that human beings do not-they cannot-submit to God's law (3:10-18; 7:7-25; 8:7-8); that the law, though itself "good" (7:12, 14, 16), is too "weak" to secure obedience to its demands (8:3; cf. 7:14); that its practical effect is to bring "knowledge" of sin (3:20; 7:7), define sin as transgression (4:15; 5:13), and serve as the instrument of divine wrath (4:15). Yet Jews, Paul notes, continue to pursue its path to "righteousness"18 rather than submit to the path God has opened up through faith. Still, for all their efforts at achieving the "righteousness that is based on the law," Paul claims that they have not attained their goal-nor will they do so until they abandon the notion that humans can achieve righteousness through their "works" (9:31-32)."<br />In short, the Paul of Romans thinks that the righteousness of the law is of no use to sinners (and such are all human beings) and should not be pursued now that God has (for the benefit of sinners) revealed the "righteousness of faith." But the path itself he finds articulated in Scripture, and he equates its underlying principle with the divine demand for righteous behavior on the part of all human beings: a requirement presupposed in the gospel (Christ died "for our sins"! [1 Cor 15:3]) that he in no way calls in question.<br />Before we turn to what Paul says about the righteousness of faith, something should be said about his portrayal of the Jewish path to righteousness. Did Jews not see their place in the covenant, rather than their observance of the law, as securing their salvation? Has Paul not distorted Judaism by detaching the Mosaic law from its covenantal framework? And has he not overlooked the law's own provisions for atonement of transgressions?<br />This is not the place for a full-scale discussion.20 Nevertheless, the following points may be noted.<br />1. As mentioned above, entrance into the covenant was not thought to make Jews "righteous." "Righteousness," and enjoyment of life in God's favor, required submission to its commands (Deut 6:24-25). If Deuteronomy thinks those who are already God's people nonetheless face the choice of life or death depending on their willingness to obey God's commands (30:15-20; cf. 11:26-28), Second Temple Jewish sources repeatedly distinguish the "righteous" from the "wicked" among Jews themselves on the same basis, and it is the "righteous" who will enter life. This, as we have seen, was Paul's position too.<br />2. Paul could not have believed that the Mosaic provisions for atonement remained in effect once Christ had died for the sins of humankind. Presumably, he thought (as did the author of the letter to the Hebrews) that such rites were symbolic from the start, mere adumbrations of the sacrifice of Christ, which alone was effective in atoning for sins. Romans 3:24-26 suggests such an understanding; 1 Cor 5:7 might also be cited in support (cf. Col 2:16-17).<br />3. But there is more to be said. The Mosaic sacrifices for atonement were not thought to be effective unless accompanied by repentance on the part of the transgressor. But a Paul who thought that the mindset of the "flesh" is at enmity with God could hardly have thought unredeemed humanity capable of true repentance (Rom 8:5-8). Put differently: the law in Jewish thought served to distinguish the "wicked" (or "sinners") from the "righteous." The latter were not thought to be sinless, but (it was understood) they intended submission to God's law, and they repented of what wrongs they did. For Paul, however, the law served not to distinguish the incorrigibly "wicked" from the basically "righteous," but to show that all are "sinners," the "ungodly," God's "enemies" (Rom 3:23; 4:5; 5:6-8, etc.).21 For "sinners" who are not inclined to repent, neither Paul nor other Jews thought that the Mosaic law provided atonement (cf. Num 15:27-31).<br />4. Paul differs from much Jewish thinking of his day, then, not so much in his understanding of the law itself as in his assessment of human ability (and will) to obey it. Yet the evidence for Paul's "robust conscience" assembled by Krister Stendahl22 does not suggest a mind schooled to doubt humanity's capacity to please God. Here we must speak of a post-Damascus reevaluation. If the crucifixion of God's Son was required to redeem humankind, then the sinfulness of humankind must be both radical in itself and beyond the powers of existing measures to overcome.<br />THE (EXTRAORDINARY) RIGHTEOUSNESS OF FAITH<br />What Paul says about the righteousness of faith in Romans follows naturally from his understanding of the righteousness of the law. Here we can only note five of its aspects.<br />1. In the ordinary use of the terms, "righteousness" is what one ought to do and the "righteous" are those who do it. That Paul was not so obtuse as to have missed the point is apparent not only from his frequent usage of "righteousness" terminology in its ordinary sense, but also from his insistence on the extraordinary and paradoxical nature of the "righteousness" that God now offers the unrighteous. Those "justified [= declared righteous] by [God's] grace as a gift" in Rom 3:24 are precisely those who have "sinned" and "fall[en] short of the glory of God" in 3:23. Those declared righteous in 4:5 are the "ungodly"-the very term used in Septuagintal texts to designate those who, in contrast to the "righteous," should not be "justified." In Rom 5:9, those who have now been "declared righteous" are the "ungodly" of v. 6, the "sinners" of v. 8, the "enemies" of God of v. 10. The "many" who are "made righteous" by Christ's obedience in 5:19 are the same "many" who were "made sinners" by Adam's disobedience. They are the recipients of an "abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness" (5:17): Paul could scarcely signal more strongly the extraordinary nature of this righteousness!<br />Fittingly, then, Paul repeatedly speaks of the righteousness of faith as an emergency measure introduced by God to offset human unrighteousness and offer life to those otherwise condemned. The (ordinary) "righteousness" that is spelled out in the law is, for Paul, the more basic righteousness, from which the "righteousness" of faith paradoxically borrows its name. "Righteousness ... through faith" has "now" been "disclosed" (Rom 3:2122)-"now" that it is clear no "flesh" can be found righteous through obeying the law (3:20). "Faith" has "come" into the world with Christ for the benefit of those confined by the law to the rule of sin (Gal 3:21-26). That one may be "righteous" on the basis of faith is the message now being proclaimed in the gospel of which Paul is unashamed (Rom 1:1617). In that the gospel brings "salvation" (1:16), it represents the divine response to a crisis (portrayed in 1:18-3:20).<br />If we are properly to understand what Paul means by "justification by faith," we must grasp correctly the dilemma he sees it as solving: "righteousness," for Paul, is what sinners, as sinners, lack and need. Neither in Paul's thought nor in the understanding of contemporaneous Jews does "righteousness" mean the covenant membership that Jews enjoy but from which Gentiles have hitherto been excluded.<br />2. The Septuagint insists that it is wrong to declare the "ungodly" "righteous." Yet God does precisely what the Septuagintal texts forbid-and is righteous in so doing because the death of Christ is linked to the declaration. Romans 3:25-26 notes that God has not overlooked human sinfulness-that would violate his righteousness-but directed its bane not on the heads of the sinners themselves but on Jesus Christ, who exhausted it when he died as an atoning sacrifice. The same picture is evoked by the reference to Christ's "blood" in 5:9 (perhaps echoing 3:25). Other pictures are used elsewhere: Christ's representative act of obedience offsets Adam's representative act of disobedience (5:15-19); those "freed [literally "justified"] from sin" have died with Christ to sin (Romans 6); God exchanged the sin of humans with the righteousness of Christ (2 Cor 5:21). It is clear in each case that God is "righteous" in declaring "sinners" "righteous" because "Christ died for our sins" (1 Cor 15:3). The demands of ordinary righteousness (as spelled out in the law), though not met in the ordinary way, are nonetheless presupposed by the Pauline gospel.<br />3. "Sinners" can only receive "righteousness" as a "free gift" (Rom 5:17; cf. 3:23-24). If the "ungodly" are to be "declared righteous," it must be "without" the "[righteous] works" on which such a declaration would normally be based (Rom 4:5). The "righteousness" of those whose sins are forgiven is one with which they have been credited "apart from [righteous] works" (4:6).23 The righteousness of faith operates apart from any consideration of the deeds of its recipients in part because they-sinners, the ungodly, those needing forgiveness-have no righteous deeds to offer. But it also represents an offer made by divine grace that (according to Paul's definition) itself excludes any role for human works (4:4-5; 11:6). And where human deeds play no role, human "boasting" has no place (3:27; 4:2).<br />4. In Abraham's case and in that of believers in the gospel, God's extraordinary "righteousness" is received "by faith." In both instances, faith is a response to the word (or promise) of God (cf. Rom 10:17). In both cases it involves trusting God to transform an otherwise hopeless situation. Where such faith is found, the God "who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist" proves able to do what he has promised (4:17-25).<br />5. Those declared "righteous" in an extraordinary way are now to do what is "righteous" (in the ordinary sense; Romans 6). Paul is no less insistent than Matthew that his converts must actively serve "righteousness." Distinctively Pauline, however, is the conviction that such a life is possible as one is "led by the Spirit" (8:13-14; cf. v. 4), which has been given to all who belong to Christ (v. 9). The hostility toward God that is inherent in the "flesh" is no longer the mindset of those who "live according to the Spirit" (vv. 5-8).<br />Pauline scholars today understand Judaism far better than did their predecessors who, if they read Jewish sources at all, consulted them merely to corroborate what (they thought) Paul said about his past or his opponents. Modern scholars of Paul have also been made abundantly aware that what provoked Paul's discussion of justification by faith was the issue of whether Gentile believers needed to submit to (the "boundary-marking" aspects of) the Jewish law. And contemporary scholarship has rightly reminded us that the resolution ofthat issue had wide-ranging implications for the missionary outreach of the church and the day-to-day life of its adherents.<br />In the end, however, it remains the case that Paul's response to the first-century crisis focused not on the "ethnocentrism" (or the "narrow nationalism," or the "racism") of those who advocated adherence to particular statutes of the law, but on the inability of the law itself to secure from sinners the obedience it required. The message of "justification by faith" pertains in the first place not to how Gentiles may be included in the Jewish covenant but to how sinners-Jews and Gentiles alike-who are threatened by God's wrath may enjoy God's approval. That-apparently without reference to issues raised by the Jewish law-was the essence of Paul's missionary message to the Thessalonians and the Corinthians. In propounding for the Galatians, Philippians, and Romans a "justification" that is "by faith" rather than by the "works of the law," Paul merely worked out the implications of a gospel that offered "salvation" to "sinners."<br />[Footnote] 1 J. C. O'Neill, Paul's Letter to the Romans (Baltimore: Penguin, 1975) 46-49. 2 E. P. Sanders, Paul, the Law, and the Jewish People (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983) 123-35. 3 J. A. Fitzmyer, "The Letter to the Romans," in The New Jerome Biblical Commentary, ed. R. E. Brown, J. A. Fitzmyer, and R. E. Murphy (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1990) 837. 4 So dikaiosyne is frequently rendered, especially in Pauline texts. The cognate verb in Greek, dikaioo, is commonly rendered "justify." 5 E.g., U. Luz, Matthew 1-7: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989) 237. 6 I have treated the matter in greater detail in my Perspectives Old and New on Paul: The "Lutheran" Paul and His Critics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004) 263-73. 7 Septuagintal texts are cited because they share with Paul the same Greek vocabulary. In the Hebrew parent text, the terms rendered in Greek by dikaios and its cognates are regularly saddîq and its related terms. 8 R. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament, 1 vols. (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1951) 1:272. 9 E.g., J. D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Ecrdmans, 1998) 341-42. 10 For a fuller treatment, see M. A. Seifrid, "Righteousness Language in the Hebrew Scriptures and Early Judaism," in Justification and Variegated Nomism. Volume 1: The Complexities of Second Temple Judaism, ed. D. A. Carson, P. T. O'Brien, and M. A. Seifrid, WUNT 2/140 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2001) 415-42. 11 Note that, as commonly in the Septuagintal texts, the verb dikaioo¯ here means "declare righteous," "find innocent," "acquit." Whether or not Paul is "righteous" in the matter under discussion depends on whether or not he has himself done wrong. But when God assesses what Paul has done, he will declare (not make) Paul "righteous" (or guilty). 12 Note again that the verb means "find righteous," "declare to be righteous." In the parallel expression in the first part of the verse, the mere "hearers" of the law are not for that reason found "[to be] righteous in God's sight." Divine judgment here leads not to being made righteous but to being recognized as the "righteous" (or guilty) person one is on the basis of one's deeds. 13 Note that Paul goes on to invoke the conscience of the same Gentiles (the subject of 2:15 is the same as that of v. 14) who do "what the law requires" and to speak of their self-accusatory "or perhaps" self-excusatory thoughts: his formulation suggests that the incidence of excusatory thoughts is less likely or less frequent than that of accusatory ones. Clearly, Paul does not mean to designate these Gentiles "righteous." 14 Romans 2:27 is often thought to posit the existence of uncircumcised Gentiles who keep the law, and the question is then raised whether Paul is thinking of non-Christian or Christian Gentiles. But the conditional force of v. 26 is continued in v. 27 (the subject of v. 27, "those who are physically uncircumcised but keep the law," parallels "those who are uncircumcised" but "keep the requirements of the law" in the conditional sentence of v. 26). Pressing the point that keeping the law, not physical circumcision, is what matters, Paul insists that an uncircumcised keeper of the law would be better off than a circumcised transgressor. All the relevant possibilities have thus been covered to illustrate the principle. But it is the principle, not the existence of people under each category, that Paul is bent on establishing. 15 K. Finsterbusch, Die Thora als Lebensweisung für Heidenchristen: Studien zur Bedeutung der Thora für die paulinischen Ethik, SUNT 20 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996) 31-38; E. J. Schnabel, law and Wisdom from Ben Sira to Paul: A Tradition Historical Enquiry into the Relation of Law, Wisdom, and Ethics, WUNT 2/16 (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1985) 89, 162. 16 E.g., 4 Mace 5:25-26; Philo, Creation 3; Moses 2.52. 17 In the context of this argument, the "deeds prescribed by the law" that do not justify must be the moral requirements of the law that people do not meet: Paul's point is both clarified and confirmed by the Scripture that insists that "flesh" cannot be "righteous" in God's sight. Paul is not saying here that particular (non-moral) requirements of the law (the "boundary-markers" of circumcision and Jewish food and festival laws) are not necessary for justification. See my Perspectives Old and New on Paul, 300-21. 18 Though (according to Romans 2) the law spells out the goodness required of all human beings, it is natural to link the pursuit of "righteousness" through the "law" with the Jewish people, to whom the law was given; Paul does so here and in Philippians 3. 19 In Philippians 3, Paul speaks of his own former pursuit of the righteousness of the law only to note that he has now abandoned it for the righteousness of faith (3:4-10). As in Romans, the former righteousness pertains to human moral behavior: one is, or is not, "blameless" by its standards (v. 6). Paul's claim to have been "blameless" is relative (he wants to assure the Philippians that if he, whose fidelity to the law exceeded that of any of its proponents whom they are likely to meet, has nonetheless turned away from it, then they need not listen to such proponents) and is a reflection of his pre-Christian assessment (he could not now have thought persecuting the church [v. 6] a good thing, nor does he now place any stock in the "confidence in the flesh" shown by those who measure their righteousness by their law-observance [3:3-4]). 20 See my Perspectives Old and New on Paul, 380-83. 21 Cf. M. Winninge, Sinners and the Righteous: A Comparative Study of the Psalms of Solomon and Paul's Letters (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1995) 306-7. 12 Paul Among Jews and Gentiles (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976) 78-96. 23 Again, note that the "works" that Paul excludes from a role when one is "declared righteous by faith" are the moral works by which one's "righteousness" is ordinarily assessed; they are not the "boundary-marking" works (circumcision, observance of food and festival laws) that distinguished Jews as members of the covenant. Paul is indeed concerned in Romans 4 to show that the latter are not required of believers. But he raises the issue of circumcision in 4:9-12 only after he has already shown that God declares the ungodly to be righteous "without works" (4:1-8). If the question can be raised whether "this blessedness" (that is enjoyed "apart from works") can be experienced by the uncircumcised as well as the circumcised, then Paul was not dealing with the issue of circumcision when he excluded "works."<br />[Author Affiliation] STEPHEN WESTERHOLM Associate Professor of New Testament McMaster University</strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1116186950727987052004-11-14T12:52:00.000-08:002005-05-15T12:55:50.746-07:00"Under the law": The background of a Pauline expression<strong><br /><img src="http://www.cnit.uniyar.ac.ru/yaros/images1/yaros_73/drev_y14.jpg"/><br /><br /><br />"Under the law": The background of a Pauline expression<br /><br />Marcus, Joel<br />(ProQuest Information and Learning: foreign text omitted) <br /><br />THE PHRASE "under the Law," ..., appears eight times in the Pauline corpus and is especially prominent in Galatians (Gal 3:23; 4:4-5, 21; 5:18; cf. Rom 6:14-15; 1 Cor 9:20). This prominence becomes even more significant when it is realized that the numerous instances of the phrase in Galatians are probably the first in any Pauline letter.1 Aside from these occurrences in Galatians and the other Pauline letters, ... never turns up elsewhere in the New Testament. Nor does the exact same form occur in the Septuagint or any other Jewish text, nor for that matter in any non-Jewish text-aside from a couple of more-or-less fortuitous parallels that do not refer to the Torah2-until the Church Fathers begin using it in passages that usually allude to Pauline texts in an obvious way.3 It has no equivalent, moreover, in ancient Jewish literature in Hebrew or Aramaic.4 '... ... is thus a Pauline expression which, although referring to an aspect of Jewish existence, has no exact equivalent in Jewish texts known to us. What conclusions concerning the origin of the phrase can be drawn from these statistics? <br /><br />I. From Paul or His Opponents? <br /><br />The priority and prominence of the phrase ... in Galatians offer the first major clue. Either, it would seem, ... is a phrase that Paul himself coined in response to the Galatian crisis, in which the Christian's relation to the Law was the central issue, or it was an expression that he picked up in Galatia from his Christian Jewish opponents,5 who insisted that the Gentile Galatians must commit themselves to full observance of the Torah. <br /><br />Of these alternatives, the thesis of Pauline coinage at first seems to have a lot going for it. If, on the contrary, the phrase is inherited from Paul's Christian Jewish opponents, why are there no exact Jewish parallels to it? Moreover, the instances of ... fit so well into the argument of Galatians, constituting the leitmotif in a pattern of bno mvc expressions in chaps. 3-4,6 that one could easily form the impression that the phrase was tailor-made for the argument of this section of the letter.7 And the negative nuance that...gains from this parallelism with the other ... expressions is at variance with the usual Jewish attitude toward the Torah8 but consonant with Paul's polemical attitude toward the Torah in Galatians. <br /><br />The conclusion that Paul invented the phrase, however, would be overly hasty. The arrangement of ... expressions in Galatians 3-4 might be explicable by the thesis that Paul inherited the phrase ... from his opponents and decided to weave his own pattern of... expressions around it. The lack of exact Jewish parallels is not a convincing argument for Pauline coinage since so much ancient Jewish literature has been lost, and in particular most of the traditions of ancient Christian Judaism. And the negative valence of ... might result from the spin that Paul puts on a Christian Jewish phrase. <br /><br />There are, moreover, several positive indications that Paul may have inherited the phrase from his Christian Jewish opponents. Although the exact phrase "under the Law" does not occur in any extant Jewish literature, the plural form "under the... laws" does turn up in Josephus Ap. 2.28 sec 210.9 And there it occurs in a context having to do with encouragement of Gentile conversion to Judaism-- exactly the sort of missionary pitch that Paul's opponents would have made.10 Josephus's usage here, moreover, is similar in both theme and vocabulary to rabbinic texts that link the act of bringing converts to the Torah with that of "bringing them near under the wings of the Shekinah," a common image for conversion.11 The plausibility of a prior usage of ... by Jews or Jewish Christians is increased by another rabbinic locution, "taking upon oneself the yoke of the Torah,"12 which implicitly associates entering into the sphere of the Torah with coming "under" a yoke of slavery,13 although the rabbis would have asserted that this slavery is, paradoxically, the path to freedom.14 Some Jewish literature, therefore, makes an implicit association between the preposition "under" and the idea of coming into the sphere in which the Torah holds sway. <br /><br />Besides this evidence from parallels in the history of religions, there is one indication from Galatians itself that Paul was not the coiner of the phrase "under the Law." In Gal 4:21 Paul addresses his Galatian readers as ... ..., "you who wish to be under the Law" (Gal 4:21). Although it is possible that Paul is here reformulating the Galatians' position in his own words, it is also possible, and indeed, in view of the above, more likely, that he is reproducing their terminology. In that case, the Galatians would be demanding: "We wish to be under the Law!" <br /><br />II. Jewish Traditions About the Exalted Sinai <br /><br />The view that it was Paul's judaizing opponents who introduced the ... ... terminology can be strengthened by considering a Jewish midrashic tradition concerning Mount Sinai that may also have played a role in shaping the phrase. It is intrinsically plausible that the image of Sinai has something to do with this terminology. Not only is Sinai ubiquitously linked with the Torah in Jewish traditions, but in the one place in Paul's letters in which he mentions Sinai, Gal 4:24, it occurs in proximity to an instance of ... and this in a section of Galatians (4:21-31) that probably reflects a midrash by Paul's Christian Jewish opponents.15 <br /><br />The Sinai tradition in question has its root, as Jewish midrashic traditions often do, in a linguistic peculiarity within the Hebrew Bible.16 In Exod 19:17 Moses leads the people of Israel from their camp to Mount Sinai, and they end up standing ..., an expression that is usually rendered with something like "at the foot of the mountain" (RSV, NJPSV) or "in the lower part of the mountain." 17 In Deut 4:11 Moses looks back to this earlier scene and reminds the Israelites of the way in which they drew near to Sinai and stood ..., a phrase that is normally translated with terminology similar or identical to that used for the passage in Exodus.18 Translators, then, usually take the expressions in Exod 19:17 and Deut 4:11 as equivalent,19 and certainly the author of the latter, who had access to the former, thought they were. <br /><br />In both passages, however, the words in question may be translated more literally as "under the mountain," a fact that some ancient and modern translators recognize. The Septuagint, for example, reads ... in both Exod 19:17 and Deut 4:11, and Everett Fox's literalistic modern English translation ("beneath the mountain") follows suit.20 This sort of literal interpretation of Exod 19:17 and Deut 4:11 seems to have ignited the imaginations of some ancient Jewish exegetes, who were inspired by it to paint a graphic picture of the Israelites standing not just at the foot of Mount Sinai, but actually beneath it. But how can a whole people stand under a mountain? An individual might perhaps fit into a crevasse in the mountain's surface (cf. Exod 33:21-22), but how could a people several million strong do so? The ancient interpreters thought of an ingenious solution to this exegetical difficulty: the mountain itself was lifted up by divine power, and the people stood under it. This solution may have been encouraged by the next verse of the Exodus account, in which Sinai shakes violently, a detail that could have been interpreted as the mountain breaking loose to ascend.21 <br /><br />The mountain thus uplifted might express either the benignant or the threatening aspect of the God responsible for its elevation. A relatively early example of the former nuance occurs in Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exod 19:17, where we read: <br /><br />And Moses brought all the people out of the camp to meet the Shekinah of the Lord, and immediately the Lord of the world uprooted the mountain and lifted it up in the air, and it was transparent like glass, and they stationed themselves under the mountain.22 <br /><br />Here the purpose of the elevation of the mountain seems to be the positive one of enabling the people "to meet the Shekinah of the Lord." The mountain, which is transparent, permits the people to discern, from their vantage point beneath it, the God who has just raised it and who now stands above it. The scene thus becomes a democratized version of Exod 24:9-11, in which Moses, Aaron, and the other members of the Israelite elite are permitted to see the God of Israel through "a pavement of sapphire stone, like the very heaven for clearness" that hovers over their heads; in our passage the whole people enjoys a similar privilege. In both cases, God is glimpsed through a medium, albeit a transparent one, and this circumstance may be meant to reassure readers that the visio Dei does not violate the principle that humans are forbidden to see God directly (Exod 33:20).23 And since in the present instance the glass through which the glory of the Lord is seen is Mount Sinai, the mountain associated with the Torah, the implication is the existentially relevant one that the Torah is the medium through which the people of Israel will experience the vision of God.24 <br /><br />But the image of Mount Sinai hanging in the air over the people of Israel, which is based on the peculiar wording of Exod 19:17 and Deut 4:11, can also assume a more threatening aspect. The mountain may be lifted up, not in order to function as a window into the heavenly world, but in order to threaten the people with destruction if they refuse to accept the Torah. This is the import of the startling midrash in b. Shab. 88a: <br /><br />"And they stood under the mountain" (Exod 19:17). R. Abdimi b. Hama b. Hasa said: This teaches that the Holy One, blessed be he, overturned the mountain upon them like an [inverted] cask, and said to them, "If you accept the Torah, well and good; if not, that place will be your grave."25 <br /><br />Here the exaltation of Sinai over the heads of the Israelites has become a dire warning about the consequences of refusing God's revelation of the Torah: those who do so will be punished by death, presumably the same death that is threatened in the Torah's covenant curses (Deuteronomy 27-28). Israel's agreement to take the covenant upon itself, in consequence, is not a matter of free, joyful obedience but a fearful response to a threat of destruction. There is, therefore, some justice in R. Aha b. Jacob's protest: if Abdimi is right, Israel has an excuse for noncompliance with the Torah since the Torah was forcibly imposed on it. And what is forcibly imposed cannot be legally binding (b. Shabb. 88a again). <br /><br />How old is this image of Sinai looming over the Israelites and threatening them with destruction if they refuse the Torah? David Daube dates it late, partly because he thinks that the implication that God forced the Israelites to accept the Torah is anomalous within the rabbinic tradition;26 usually the stress is, to the contrary, on Israel's free and joyful acceptance of it.27 While acknowledging that a rabbi to whom an idea is attributed may not be its original author, Daube thinks that in this particular case the interpretation does reflect an event in the lifetime of its tradent, Abdimi, who, according to Daube, lived during the persecution of the Jews by Constantine II from 337 C.E. on.28 Abdimi formulated the tradition in order to provide a legal loophole for those who transgressed the Torah under the pressure of this persecution. Because their forefathers had been forced into accepting the Torah, Abdimi thought, these transgressors had not been legally bound by it and, therefore, were not culpable for having violated its provisions. <br /><br />As Joseph Heinemann points out, however, there are serious problems with Daube's reasoning.29 For one thing, there is no convincing evidence that Jews were persecuted under Constantine II. Daube, moreover, assumes that Aha's interpretation of Abdimi's statement is the correct one, i.e., that if God had forced Israel to accept the covenant, it would not be binding on them. As Heinemann notes, however, this consequence does not necessarily follow; elsewhere in the rabbinic tradition, in fact, the opposite is assumed. Indeed, in b. Abod. Zar. 2b the nations at the Last Judgment use the circumstance that God forced only Israel to accept the Torah as an excuse for their own noncompliance with it: "Lord of the Universe, did you suspend the mountain over us like a cask, as you did to Israel, and did we still decline to accept it?" The implication is that if the Gentiles, like Israel, had been forced to accept the Torah, they would have been bound by it; God, however, did not force it upon them, so they were not bound. Here, then, God's coercion of the Israelites to accept the Torah does not contradict the primal notion that his bestowal of it is an act of grace, but in fact supports that idea; like a physician who compels a mortally ill patient to take life-saving medicine, God employs strong-arm tactics with his people's best interests in view, namely, to bring them into the salvific sphere of the Torah.30 <br /><br />Daube's arguments for a late dating of the tradition about a suspended Sinai threatening Israel, then, themselves fall to the ground, and it may be that the tradition is considerably older than R. Abdimi. After all, the basic idea of an exalted Sinai is earlier, being already attested in Palestinian traditions, namely, the Mekhilta and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exod 19:17, which are cited above.31 And it probably goes back farther still; indeed, it could have arisen as soon as alert exegetes noticed that Exod 19:17 and Deut 4:11 literally speak of the people standing "under" the mountain. The development of this image of an exalted Sinai was probably assisted by, and may even have contributed to, the portrayal of Moses' ascent of this mountain as a heavenly journey, which definitely predates the Christian era.32 Moreover, the early rabbinic terminology about legal enactments that are "like mountains hanging by a hair" (m. Hag. 1.8; t. Hag. 1.9; t. Erub. 11.23-24), which seems already to be echoed in Matt 22:40,33 may have something to do with the picture of a suspended Sinai.34 <br /><br />If, then, the basic picture of Sinai suspended over the heads of the Israelites was in place from a very early stage, it would not be surprising if the idea soon developed that this suspension contained not only an element of promise but also one of threat. After all, the Law that was given at Sinai included both aspects, and the Sinai episode is described in the Bible and in Jewish tradition as a terrifying event;35 the image of a mountain suspended over one's head, moreover, has something intrinsically threatening about it.36 This reconstruction, to be sure, cannot be proven; we do not have in our possession any pre-Pauline exegeses of Exod 19:17 || Deut 4:11 that speak of an elevated, threatening Sinai. But the creation of such a line of interpretation would be a logical development and one consonant with the way in which Jewish midrashim evolve elsewhere; and it would help explain Paul's otherwise anomalous phraseology, "under the Law." <br /><br />III. The Teachers' Midrash About Standing "Under the Law" <br /><br />The suggestion being advanced here, then, is that Paul picked up the phrase "under the Law" from his opponents in Galatia, who included Exod 19:17 and/or Deut 4:11 in their arsenal of scriptural weapons for persuading the Galatians of the necessity of accepting the Torah.37 Like other ancient Jewish exegetes, these Teachers would have interpreted the Pentateuchal texts as an allusion to the people of God standing under a suspended Mount Sinai, with God threatening to drop the mountain on their heads if they did not accept the Torah.38 Certainly the element of threat we have seen in some rabbinic interpretations of these Pentateuchal passages is consonant with Paul's designation of the Teachers as "those who are frightening you" (Gal 1:7; cf. 5:10) and "those who are troubling your mind" (5:12; cf. "they want to shut you out" in 4:17).39 <br /><br />If, however, the Teachers did use the picture of the uplifted Sinai derived from Exod 19:17 || Deut 4:11 in the threatening way described, we can be reasonably confident that they themselves would have interpreted those threats in a positive way, and thus would have stood closer to b. Abod. Zar. 2b than to b. Shab. 88a in their exegesis. That is, they would have emphasized not only that God threatens human beings with punishment if they disregard the Torah he offers them, but also that those very threats are for their own good since they are designed to drive them into the pathway of life. The Teachers, in other words, would have interpreted the tradition about the exalted Sinai in line with their position as theologians of covenantal nomism.40 <br /><br />One final observation needs to be made about the Teachers' hypothesized interpretation of Exod 19:17 || Deut 4:11 before attempting to gather the strands of the argument together and offering a reconstruction of their midrash. The second of the Pentateuchal texts, Deut 4:11, speaks not only of the Israelites' standing under the mountain, but also of their drawing near to it in order to do so ... ...). The text thus employs a verb that, in the postbiblical period, became a technical term for conversion to Judaism: a proselyte (a word that itself derives from ..., the Greek verb employed here) was one who had come near to the God of Israel and to the Torah that manifests his will.41 We can easily imagine that, if the Teachers did employ Deut 4:11 in their attempts to win the Galatians over to a Torah-observant position, they would not have been slow to seize on the passage's usage of this verb for "bringing near." <br /><br />Perhaps, then, the Teachers' midrash on Exod 19:17 11 Deut 4:11 would have gone something like this:42 <br /><br />"And Moses brought the people out of the camp to God, and they stood under the mountain" (Exod 19:17). "And you came near and stood under the mountain" (Deut 4:11). You too, dear friends, have been led by Moses out of the camp of the ungodly and have been brought near to Sinai, the mountain where God reveals his will for humanity in all its glory and all its completeness. You have taken the initial step along this glorious road by embracing Moses' successor, the Messiah Jesus, and you have thereby demonstrated your desire to become a part of the renewed people of God. But now a further and final step is necessary. <br /><br />For now you, too, like Israel of old, stand under Mount Sinai, under the Torah,43 and this position of yours has a double aspect. On the one hand, Sinai is the place where God unveils his mysteries, and so your position under that mountain means that you stand on the spot where the majesty of God's truth will be revealed. But positioning yourself under Sinai also means standing in the place where the mountain looms menacingly over your head and threatens to crush you if you refuse God's life-giving offer of the Torah. <br /><br />You thus stand at a critical juncture, poised between salvation and destruction. Now, therefore, is the time to take the final step; now is the time to flee from the coming wrath and commit yourself to the Torah-commit yourself to remaining under this mountain, "under the Law," for the rest of your mortal life. And you will find that, once you have done so, the threatening aspect of Sinai will suddenly vanish, and it will turn into a clear glass through which you will gaze upon the glory of God. <br /><br />Do you not wish to witness this magical transformation of the fearsomeness of divine fury into the beauty of divine love? Do you not wish to become a full partaker in the mysteries of God? Then draw near as God's beloved; draw near, O dove; take up the place reserved for you "in the cleft of the rock" (Cant 2:14).44 Position yourself securely under the Law, under the protection of Sinai; take upon yourself the yoke of the Law, in which you will find perfect freedom. Do you not wish to live out your life under this secure divine rampart? Don't you wish to come to rest beneath the sheltering wings of the Shekinah? How can you hope to escape from God's righteous wrath and death-dealing curse if you neglect such a great salvation?45 <br /><br />For the Teachers, then, ... would have been shorthand for a midrash based on Exod 19:17 and Deut 4:11 that spoke of the glory and joy of the revelation, as well as the necessary risk of the destruction, that are involved in taking up a position under Mount Sinai and becoming part of God's ancient people. In this midrash curse and blessing, threat and promise, divine wrath and divine love were held together in a delicate tension that is well described by Sanders's phrase "covenantal nomism." Paul, however, as is his custom in Galatians-a custom doubtless conditioned by the polemical situation of the letter-emphasizes only the negative side of the Teachers' midrash, ignoring the covenantal aspect of their nomism. In his hands ... loses its double edge and becomes a term exclusively associated with sin, oppression, slavery, and the curse. <br /><br />Presumably Paul's Galatian audience, previously attuned to the phrase by the Teachers' exegesis of the "under Sinai" passages, would have recognized this transformation as the polemic it was and would have known how to read it accordingly. The tragedy is that so many subsequent generations of Christians, unaware of that background, have taken it as an objective description of the position of the cursed, sin-enslaved Jews under the demonic power of the Law. <br /><br />Appendix: Categories of Rabbinic Passages Dealing with the Exalted Sinai <br /><br />1) In passages that simply record the miracle of the mountain being lifted up in the sky (without implications for God's attitude toward Israel), the connotation may be that Sinai was exalted to heaven, as in <br /><br />Pirqe R. El. 41: On the sixth of Sivan the Holy One, blessed be He, was revealed to Israel on Mount Sinai, and Sinai was uprooted from its place, and the heavens were opened and the top of the mountain entered heaven, and thick darkness covered the mountain. The Holy One, blessed be He, sat on his throne and his feet stood on the thick darkness, as it is said: "He bowed the heavens and came down, and thick darkness was under his feet" (Psalm 18:9; here there is no explicit reference to Exod 19:17 or Deut 4: 11). <br /><br />See also Gen. Rab 68.12, where Exod 19:17 and Deut 4: 11 are cited. <br /><br />2) Passages in which Israel is spoken about in a positive way, as being loved by God, experiencing a vision of him, etc., include Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exod 19:17 (see above, at n. 22), plus: <br /><br />Mek. R. Ish., Bahodesh 3 (on Exod 19:17):46 "Under the mountain" (Exod 19:17). This teaches that the mountain was plucked up from its place, and they came near and stood under it ... [The passage goes on to speak of Israel as "my dove that is in the clefts of the rock," citing Cant 2:14.1 <br /><br />Cant. Rab. 8.5. 1: "Under the apple tree I awakened you" (Cant. 8:5). Paltion, a man of Rome, said in a discourse: The mountain of Sinai was uprooted and stood in the height of heaven, and Israel were placed under it, as it is said, "And you came near and stood under the mountain" (Deut 4: 11). <br /><br />In both of these passages the positive nuance emerges from a linkage with a verse from Canticles; the linkage implies that "under Sinai" Israel became God's beloved. <br /><br />3) Passages in which it is implied that God used the suspended Sinai to force Israel to accept the Torah: b. Shab. 88a (see above, at n. 25); b. Abod Zar: 2b (see above, p. 79); also Tan., Noah 3, where it is said that Israel was willing to accept the written Torah but not the oral one, which had to be forced on them with the threat of being crushed by Sinai. <br /><br />1 On Pauline chronology, see R. Jewett, Dating Paul's Life (London: SCM, 1979); J. L. Martyn, Galatians: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 33A; New York: Doubleday, 1997) 222-28. These reconstructions agree that Galatians is the first of the three Pauline letters that contain bao v6gov. <br /><br />2 Pseudo-Plato Definitiones 415.c.3; Longinus De sublimitate 33.5.4. The former passage is simply a definition of a city as a group of people living under the same law ... ...). The latter is more interesting, since it broadly parallels the Pauline antithesis between the Spirit and the Law by referring, in a context having to do with poetic inspiration, to "that eruption of the divine spirit that is difficult to subject to law" (...). Though there is no question of direct influence here, this passage at least suggests that the Pauline antithesis between an existence lived in the grip of the Spirit and one lived "under the Law" (see Gal 4:4-6, 21-31; 5:18, 22-23) would resonate with some Hellenistic readers. <br /><br />3 See, for example, the usages in Clement of Alexandria Paedagogus 1.6.30, 33; Stromata 1.1.15; 1.26.167, etc.; Origen Contra Celsum 2.7.25; De Principiis 4.2.6, etc. See also the usages with <br /><br />the definite article, bnb Tbv v6gov, without a difference in meaning, in Justin Dialogue 45.3; 95.1; Origen De Principiis 4.1.6; 4.2.6, etc. <br /><br />4 No parallels are listed in standard commentaries or in the relevant passages from Str-B, and a search of The CD ROM Judaic Classics Library Deluxe Edition (CD-ROM; Chicago: Institute for Computers in Jewish Life/Davka, 1991-95) under ... (the rendering in Delitzsch's old translation of the NT into Hebrew) and ... (the rendering in the new U.B.S. translation) yielded nothing. <br /><br />5 On the terms "Christian Jews" and "Christian Judaism," see the index under these terms in D. C. Sim, The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism: The History and Social Setting of the Matthean Community (Studies of the New Testament and Its World; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1998). <br /><br />6 In addition to the ... expressions in Gal 3:23; 4:4-5, 21, see ... ("under a curse") in 3:10; ... ("under sin") in 3:22; ... ("under a custodian") in 3:25; ... ("under guardians and overseers") in 4:2; and ... ... ("under the elements of the world") in 43; cf. Martyn, Galatians, 370-73. This seems to be the opinion of Martyn, ibid. <br /><br />On the "joy of the Law" in Jewish thought, see S. Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Theology (New York: Schocken, [orig. 1909] 1961) 148-69. <br /><br />9 John Barclay, who is preparing a commentary on Contra Apionem, called this passage to my attention. Josephus is using a known Greek idiom; for other instances of im6 rob v6gou;, usually in combination with &-(Etv, see Demosthenes Orationes 24.131; Aristotle Politica 1270a; Eusebius Demonstratio evangelica 6.20.20; John Chrysostom De prophetiarum obscuritate 56.167. <br /><br />10 "Our legislator ... took the best of all possible measures at once to secure our own customs from corruption, and to throw them open ungrudgingly to any who elect to share them. To all who desire to come and live under the same laws with us (... ...), he gives a gracious welcome, holding that it is not family ties alone which constitute relationship, but agreement in the principles of conduct. On the other hand, it was not his pleasure that casual visitors should be admitted to the intimacies of our daily life" (Josephus Ap. 2.28 20910, trans. by H. S. J. Thackeray, Josephus I [LCL; London: Heinemann; New York: Putnam, 1926] 377-79). <br /><br />" See, for example, Mek. R. Ish., Yitro 2, in which Abraham says: "I am going to my land, and I will convert all the people of my country and lead them to study of the Torah and bring them near under the wings of the Shekinah" (...). Cf. y. Sanh. 13a: R. Jose said: "[Solomon loved foreign women] in order to draw them to words of Torah and to bring them near under the wings of the Shekinah." On the "bringing near" terminology, see n. 41. <br /><br />12 ...: e.g., m. Abot 3.5; Midrash Mishlei 22.4; cf. H. D. Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul's Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979) 176 n. 126. For the equivalent expressions "taking upon oneself the yoke of the commandments" and "taking upon oneself the yoke of the kingdom of heaven," see b. Ber l3ab, 61a; y. Ber. 12b and cf. Str-B 1.608-9. The antiquity of these expressions is attested by two NT passages, Matt 11:29 and Acts 15:10, which seem to echo them. On Matt 11:29 see W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew (3 vols.; ICC; Edinburgh: T & T. Clark, 1988-97) 2. 289-90. On Acts 15: 10 see J. A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 31; New York: Doubleday, 1998)548. <br /><br />"3 For examples of the standard Hellenistic association between the yoke and slavery, see K. H. Rengstorf, "Zygo.s in the NT," in TDNT 2. 898-901, esp. 899 n. 20. Becoming a slave could be termed "coming under the yoke"; see, for example, Theognis 1023: ... ...) ("I will put the neck of my enemies under the yoke"), and cf. "Zygon," LSJ 757 (12). <br /><br />" See b. B. Mey. 85b; m. Abot 6:2; Gen. Rab. 53:7. The positive valuation given to slavery is congruent with the biblical image of the pious Jew as God's slave or servant (see W. Zimmerli, "The `Ebed Yhwh in the OT," in TDNT 5. 659-73). <br /><br />" See the remarks in the previous paragraph on the wording of Gal 4:21, and cf. C. K. Barrett, "The Allegory of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar in the Argument of Galatians," in Rechtfertigung: Festschrift fur Ernst Kasemann (ed. J. Friedrich, W. Pohlmann, and P Stuhlmacher; Tubingen: Mohr [Siebeck]; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1976) 1-16. <br /><br />16 For the general phenomenon of midrashim arising from linguistic or exegetical difficulties in Old Testament texts, see J. Heinemann, Aggadah and Its Development [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Keter, 1974); J. L. Kugel, In Potiphar's House: The Interpretive Life of Biblical Texts (Cambridge, MA/ London: Harvard University Press, 1990); idem, Traditions of the Bible: A Guide to the Bible as It Was at the Start of the Common Era (Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University Press, 1998). <br /><br />17 This is the translation of the phrase in BDB 1066b. <br /><br />18 E.g., RSV and NJPSV (see above); also the Septuagint, and the Schocken Bible translation of Everett Fox (see next paragraph), as well as the Vulgate, in which both passages read: ad radices montis, "to the roots of the mountain." <br /><br />'9 It is possible, though, that there is a difference in nuance between the two passages in the original. Whereas at BDB 1066b the formulation in Exod 19:17, 113, is rendered as "in the lower part of the mountain," at BDB 1065a-b the formulation in Deut 4:11, 711'TI'1, is paraphrased as "at the foot of the mountain." But both could be understood as "under the mountain"; for ... cf. Neh 4:7: ..., "And I set [them] at parts below the place [where they were to work]" (BDB 1066b). <br /><br />20 E. Fox, The Five Books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy (Schocken Bible 1; New York: Schocken Books, 1995). <br /><br />21 I owe this idea to a suggestion of Dale Allison. <br /><br />22 Translation from R. McNamara et al., Targum Neofiti 1: Exodus and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan: Exodus (The Aramaic Bible 2; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1994). <br /><br />as Cf. E. Ruprecht, "Exodus 24,9-11 als Beispiel lebendiger Erzahltradition aus der Zeit des babylonischen Exils," in Werden and Wirken des Alten Testaments: Festschrift fur Claus Westermann (ed. R. Albertz; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1978) 138-73, here 141, who translates Exod 24:11 disjunctively: "He (God) did not lay his hand on the leaders of Israel, although they saw God" [emphasis added]. Cf. b. Qid. 49a end, which displays anxiety about the potentially blasphemous implications of Exod 24:9-11 and cites Exod 33:20 (see the notes in the Soncino edition). <br /><br />24 The word for "glass" here, ..., is used elsewhere as a metaphor for prophetic vision; see, for example, b. Sukk. ..., "who contemplate [God] through a bright glass" (see. M. Jastrow, A Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature [New York: Judaica, (orig. 1886-1903) 1982] 96). The passage goes on to contrast these fortunate seers with others who apprehend the deity only through a dim glass; cf. Paul's use of the same metaphor in I Cor 13:12. Since ti'15P DDX can also mean "mirror" (see Str-B 3. 452), this Targumic portrayal of Sinai, the mountain of the Torah, as an ... may have something to do with James 1:23-25, in which the Law is likened to a mirror. <br /><br />25 Translation by H. Freedman, The Babylonian Talmud: Seder Mo'ed 1: Shabbath (ed. 1. Epstein; London: Soncino Press, 1961) 417, altered. <br /><br />26 D. Daube, "Covenanting Under Duress," The Irish Jurist N.S. 2 (1967) 352-59. <br /><br />27 See, for example, Mek R. Ish., Bahodesh 5 (Mekilta de-Rabbi Ishmael [3 vols.; trans. J. Z. Lauterbach; JPS Library of Jewish Classics; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1976] 2. 234-35); Pesiq. Rb. Kah. 2.2; Tan. B., Wa'era' 1 (2.17). <br /><br />Zs But Heinemann (Aggadah and Its Development [Hebrew], 171) dates Abdimi earlier than Daube does; he belonged to the second or third generation of Amoraim and should be dated as contemporary with or somewhat earlier than R. Aha, who lived at the end of the third century C.E. 29 Ibid. <br /><br />30 This notion of the compatibility of pressure with grace is familiar to readers of the New Testament: "Go out to the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in" (... Luke 14:23). <br /><br />31 See Heinemann, Aggadah, 173. For the sake of completeness and conceptual clarity, I offer in the Appendix a tabulation of rabbinic passages dealing with the exalted Sinai. <br /><br />31 Sir 45:1, for example, says that God kept Moses strong in the heavens. This is a reference to Moses' sojourn on Sinai, where God preserved him ("kept him strong") through his forty days and nights of fasting (Exod 34:28; Deut 9:9; cf. Exod 24:18). Here, then, Moses' stay on Sinai is conflated with a sojourn "in the heavens." For another example of the idea that Moses' ascent of Sinai was a journey to heaven, see Tg. Neof. Deut 30:12, and cf. W. A. Meeks, The Prophet-King: Moses Traditions and the Johannine Christology (NovTSup 14; Leiden: Brill, 1967) index s.v. "Ascensions of Moses"; D. C. Allison, The New Moses: A Matthean Typology (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1993) 175-79; Kugel, Traditions, 635-36. <br /><br />33 Cf. Davies and Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew 3. 245 n. 63. <br /><br />34 owe this suggestion to a private communication from Dale Allison. In favor of his suggestion is the linkage made between hanging mountains and legal enactments. <br /><br />ss See Exod 19:12-24; 20:18-19; Deut 5:22-27; LA.B. 11.4-5, 14; b. Shab. 88b; cf. Heb 12:18-21. <br /><br />as Although he was influenced not only by Exodus but also by Paul and by Heb 12:18-21, John Bunyan's reuse of the biblical portrayal of the towering Mount Sinai develops this intrinsic potential and is instructively similar to the imagery and threatening tone of the midrash in b. Shab. 88a: "So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for help: but behold, when he was got now hard by the Hill [= Mount Sinai], it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the way side, did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the Hill should fall on his head ..." (J. Bunyan, The Pilgrim's Progress [Oxford World's Classics; Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1984] 17). <br /><br />37 On the Jewish Christian "Teachers" in Galatia as exegetes of Scripture, see Barrett, "Allegory," and J. L. Martyn, Theological Issues in the Letters of Paul (Studies of the New Testament and Its World; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark; Nashville: Abingdon, 1997) 7-24. <br /><br />sa The designation of Paul's Galatian opponents as "the Teachers" is borrowed from Martyn, Issues, 9. <br /><br />39 See Martyn, Issues, 12. <br /><br />40 The term comes from the influential work of E. P Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977). On the Teachers as covenantal nomists, see J. L. Martyn, "Events in Galatia," in Pauline Theology 1: Thessalonians, Philippians, Galatians (ed. J. Bassler; SBLSymS 4/1; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991) 160-79, and Martyn, Galatians, 343, 347, 587. <br /><br />41 On the usage of 51ol/,Rpoa in traditions about proselytes, see K. G. Kuhn, "Proselytos," TDNT 6. 738. Kuhn alludes to the common rabbinic expression ... ..., "bringing them near (and causing them to enter) beneath the wings of the Shekinah" (see, for example, Mek. R. Ish., litro 2; b. Shab. 31a; y. Sanh. 13a; Gen. Rab. 84.5). Note the combination here of the verb "to bring near" with the preposition "under." <br /><br />42 Cf. the reconstruction of another sermon by the Teachers in Martyn, Issues, 20-24 and Martyn, Galatians, 302-6. <br /><br />43 For the Teachers' equation of Sinai with the Torah, see Gal 4:21-31, which, as noted above (11), probably reflects a midrash of the Teachers; cf. also n. 24 above on the possible background in Jewish traditions about Sinai for the statement in James 1:23-25 about the Torah being a glass or mirror. For the idea that, in a sense, subsequent generations still stand at Mount Sinai, see, for example, b. Ber. 63b; Tan. B., rtro 386 (76); Deut. 33; Pesiq. Rb. Kah. 12.12. <br /><br />as Cf. the use of this text in Mekhilta on Exod 19:17; see Appendix, no. 2. ' Cf. Heb 2:3. <br /><br />46 Translation from Lauterback, Mekilta de-Rabbi Islunael s. 219. <br /><br />JOEL MARCUS <br /><br />Boston University School of Theology <br /><br />Boston, MA 02215 <br /><br />Copyright Catholic Biblical Association of America Jan 2001<br />Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved<br /><br /><br />FindArticles > Catholic Biblical Quarterly, The > Jan 2001 > Article > </strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1115419742587474282004-10-30T15:47:00.000-07:002005-05-08T23:11:41.993-07:00Jesus as Friend in the Gospel of John<img src="http://www.stlukeproductions.com/images/GospelofJohn/Jesus&John.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Jesus as Friend in the Gospel of John </span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><em>Gail R O'Day. Interpretation. Richmond: Apr 2004.Vol.58, Iss. 2; pg. 144, 14 pgs<br />Copyright Interpretation Apr 2004</em></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>In popular image, Jesus as friend is sentimentalized, but not so in the Fourth Gospel. Jesus gave his life in love for others and always spoke and acted boldly-marks of friendship in the cultural world of the New Testament.<br />Hannah is my best friend," says my seven-year-old neighbor about the eightyear-old girl who lives two doors down from her. I do not know how Solveig would define friendship. But I do know that Solveig expresses her friendship when she walks to school with Hannah, takes a special trip to the town library with her, and plays with her at least one weekend day. Their friendship is apparent when Hannah and Solveig fall into each other's arms almost every time they see one another.<br />Yet this friendship is much more than a sweet diversion or something about which the adults in their lives can wax sentimental. The formation of friendship bonds is among the first acts of socialization that a child makes outside the nuclear family. We choose our friends in ways that we do not and cannot choose our families. The ability and inclination to establish friendship bonds is therefore key to the formation of a social network later in life. Friendship moves a person from being a private individual to a member of a social group based on something beyond kinship. The popular television show "Friends" characterizes this social reality. Despite the absurdities of its plots and the economic ease with which its protagonists live in New York City, the show has created a world in which community is defined and built by the bonds of friendship, not family.<br />Friendship, then, is not simply about affection but also about social roles and responsibilities. Friendship is not defined exclusively by what the individual "feels" for another (although affection is definitely a part of friendship). Friendship is at least as much about the social responsibilities that accompany friendship as it is about how people choose their friends. Say, for example, on the morning of Hannah's birthday party, Solveig announces, "I don't want to go to Hannah's party. I don't like her-she wasn't nice to me yesterday." Solveig's mother then explains to her that she has to go to the party because she and Hannah are friends, regardless of Solveig's feelings of the moment. Acts of friendship must transcend the volatility of emotions. Even as seven and eight year olds, Hannah and Solveig learn about social expectations and obligations through their friendship and also learn how to put their feelings for one another (affection) into practice.<br />This combination of affection, social choice and obligation, and practice has made friendship a perennially intriguing topic as well as an important category of theological reflection, especially among feminist theologians who are drawn to the patterns of reciprocity found in friendship.1 God as friend and the Christian community as a community of friends are important themes that emerge. Friendship as a social and theological motif has been given considerable attention by New Testament scholars in recent years as well because it is a motif that the New Testament shares with the Greek and Roman cultures in which the early church took shape and the New Testament documents were written.2 Friendship was an especially popular topic in ancient Greece and Rome, as philosophers and storytellers attempted to define the social and moral virtues and the characteristics of a good society. When the New Testament speaks about friends (Greek, philoï), it is using a vocabulary current in its cultural context.<br />FRIENDSHIP IN GREEK AND ROMAN ANTIQUITY<br />Even though there is a consistency of vocabulary across the centuries used to discuss friendship in antiquity, there is no consistency of emphasis or definition.3 Friendship is a socially embedded phenomenon, and as the social fabric of a culture shifts, so does the understanding of the role and place of friendship in society. Each ancient writer, including the New Testament writers, developed the friendship traditions in different ways depending on his or her own community setting. The New Testament writers (and later Christians) helped shape the discussion of friendship in antiquity; they were not simply dependent on following its conventions.4<br />The social dimension of friendship has long been recognized by ancient writers, especially philosophers. The particular context in which that social dimension was enacted shifted, depending on the particular moment in history. For classical Greek philosophers in Athens in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C.E., for example, most notably Aristotle, "friend" or philos played a pivotal social role in the maintenance of the polis, the city-state. Aristotle devoted two out often books in the Nicomachean Ethics to friendship (Books 8 and 9), a considerable portion of this treatise. For Aristotle and the classical philosophers who followed him, friendship was not an incidental relationship. It exemplified, rather, the mutual social obligation on which the polis depended.5 In the democratic ideal of the Athenian polis, the relationship between friends, philoi, was a relationship between equals contributing together to the public ethos of citizenship. To be a good friend was by definition also to be a good citizen.6 To the philosophers, the success of the Athenian democracy depended on the enactment of friendship and the related virtues of courage and justice by its citizenry.7<br />The following quote from Aristotle illustrates this well:<br />But it is also true the virtuous man's conduct is often guided by the interests of his friends and of his country, and that he will if necessary lay down his life in their behalf.... And this is doubtless the case with those who give their lives for others; thus they choose great nobility for themselves.8<br />The ideal city-state, represented by Athens, vanished after Philip of Macedon's conquest of Greece in 338 B.C.E. and the empire-building of Alexander the Great that followed. With its much more diverse and complex population, Hellenism and the Hellenistic empire replaced the democratic ideal of the Athenian city-state as the social context for friendship. This shift continued when Rome overthrew the Hellenistic empire in the second century B.C.E. and established the Roman empire in 31 B.C.E. As the political and social landscape shifted, so also did philosophical reflections on the meaning and value of friendship.<br />Friendship remained a social virtue and moral value but was enacted in a different arena. For example, friendship was no longer viewed primarily through the lens of democratic citizenship. The classical perspectives remained touchstones for later philosophers, but Hellenistic philosophers took their reflections in new directions. In the Hellenistic period, the classical ideal of friendship met the realities of political pragmatism, and philosophical discussions of friendship reflected both realities.<br />In particular, a new sphere of friendship, patron-client relationships, entered the public arena. In the classical period, a false friend was one who was not available in a time of crisis, but Hellenistic discussions of false friends began to focus on those who have only their own betterment in view.9 Among Roman philosophers such as Plutarch and Cicero, friendship concerned not only what it meant to be a friend but how to distinguish between a true friend and its opposite, the flatterer (kolax).10 As Plutarch wrote:<br />[T]he friend is always found on the better side as counsel and advocate, trying, after the manner of a physician, to foster the growth of what is sound and to preserve it; but the flatterer takes his place on the side of the emotional and irrational."<br />Philosophers advised the patron on how to recognize social contacts who were not friends-those who had not the patron's interests at heart but their own. One of the distinguishing marks was the use of "frank speech" (parrêsia). "Frankness of speech, by common report and belief, is the language of friendship especially (as an animal has its peculiar cry), and on the other hand, that lack of frankness is unfriendly and ignoble ... "u Friendship was at least as much about one's private dealings as it was about public obligations.<br />Another Hellenistic social context in which discussions of friendship played a pivotal role was the philosophical school. In many ways, these schools reclaimed the classical ideal of a community of equals from the more pragmatic realities of patron-client relationships and the political expediency of "friends of the emperor."13 This is clearly the case with the Neopythagoreans, who shaped themselves around the values of harmony and friendship first articulated by Pythagoras of Samos in the sixth century B.C.E.14 The philosophical schools of the Epicureans and Stoics also gave a prominent role to friendship in their reflections on the meaning of the good life, the proper education and conduct of the good person, and the nature of community life.15 The language of friendship provided language for talking about the construction of a community of like-minded people informed by a particular set of teachings.<br />Early Christian understandings of friendship took shape in this diverse social context with its intentional reflection on friendship. Many different motifs from the Hellenistic conversations can be detected in the New Testament writings. For example, a well-known friendship maxim, attributed to Pythagoras and the Neopythagoreans, was that friends had all things in common.16 Since Luke portrays the early Christian community in Acts as living out this value (e.g., Acts 2:44-47), this maxim provides a starting point for a discussion of friendship and community in Acts.17 But not all New Testament writers are drawn to the same motifs. The Johannine discussion of friendship, for example, does not follow the Pythagorean maxim.<br />FRIENDSHIP IN JOHN<br />The Gospel of John is a pivotal text for the discussion of friendship in the New Testament. The vocabulary of friendship, especially the noun philos and the related verb phileo, is found at key moments in the narrative.18 As we will see below, friendship is one of the ways in which the revelation of God in Jesus is extended beyond the work of Jesus to the work of the disciples. One of the pivotal texts in Jesus' words of instruction and farewell to his disciples is John 15:12-17, in which Jesus calls the disciples "friends" and enjoins them to acts of friendship.<br />The word "friend" in John carried many associations for John's first readers. Modern readers cannot completely recapture those associations, but they can at least recognize that John did not create the theme of friendship out of whole cloth.19 Awareness of cultural embeddedness helps modern readers see that friendship is not a universal term for all times and cultures. Most contemporary friendship greeting cards, for example, adorned with roses, kittens, and butterflies, do not exhort the card's recipient to "lay down one's life for a friend." Jesus' words in John 15:13 seem unprecedented for a modern friend. As the above quotation from Aristotle shows, however, Jesus' saying has precedent as a model for the ultimate friend in antiquity. The point is not that more people laid down their lives for their friends in the first century than are inclined to do so today. Rather, the possibility of doing so belonged to the ancient rhetoric of friendship.<br />The echoes of Greco-Roman friendship motifs in John may be found among the attributes and virtues associated with friendship in the Hellenistic world, as well as the specific vocabulary of "friend" (philos and related terms). In the New Testament period, for example, the distinction between the friend who employs frank speech (parresia) and the flatterer (kolax) was prominent in discussions of friendship. While the word kolaxdoes not occur in John, its opposite, frankness or boldness (parresia, 7:4, 13, 26; 10:24; 11:14, 54: 16:25, 29; 18:20), suggests a possible connection with these friendship conventions.<br />One can also look for gospel stories where friendship and its values are enacted. In the philosophical treatises on friendship, the virtues of friendship were often illustrated by reference to traditional pairs of friends (e.g., Achilles and Patroclus). Friendship is not simply an abstract social and moral virtue; it achieves its real worth when it is modeled and embodied in practice. In addition, Hellenistic narratives often recounted tales of friends and acts of friendship.20 The most well-known of these may have been Lucian's Toxaris, in which two men tell each other competing stories about the practice of friendship to demonstrate the superiority of the people of their respective nations.21<br />Our study of John will begin with the character of Jesus and look for the vocabulary and attributes of friendship as well as stories in which Jesus embodies friendship. From there, we can consider whether Jesus as friend in John has implications for contemporary theology.<br />Two friendship motifs from the Greco-Roman world provide a promising framework for regarding Jesus as friend in John: Jesus' love for others that is embodied in his death and Jesus' boldness in speech and action.<br />FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND DEATH<br />The first motif, the offer of Jesus' life, receives the most attention in Johannine studies of friendship.22 It is widely recognized among Johannine scholars that the notion of laying down one's life for one's friends represents a classical motif of friendship.23 Plato's Symposium is cited as evidence of this aspect of friendship in antiquity ("Only those who love wish to die for others").24 Interestingly, it is not clear that this connection between friendship, love, and death in antiquity has had much influence on the way Christian theology and piety interpret the death of Jesus in John. Perhaps it is feared that any resonance somehow diminishes the significance of Jesus' teaching about his own death or routinizes the death itself.25<br />In fact, the opposite is more likely the case-the connection with a well-known convention enhances John's presentation of Jesus. For the first readers of John's gospel, the link with friendship motifs helped lay the groundwork for what John was teaching about Jesus' death. Since both classical and popular philosophy held up the noble death as the ultimate act of friendship,26 Jesus' teaching in John fits a recognizable pattern. Jesus' words in John 15:13, for example, could be a friendship maxim from any philosophical treatise on friendship, as there is nothing distinctly Christological in their formulation: "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends." In the teachings about laying down one's life for a friend, the gospel's first readers would recognize that Jesus is evoking a world in which the greatest moral good prevails.<br />What distinguishes John 15:13 from other teachings on friendship and death is that Jesus does not merely talk about laying down his life for his friends. His life is an incarnation of this teaching. Jesus did what the philosophers only talked about-he lay down his life for his friends. This makes all the difference in appropriating friendship as a theological category. The pattern of Jesus' own life and death moves the teaching of John 15:13 from the realm of abstraction to an embodied promise and gift.<br />John 10:11-18 illustrates well the transition from maxim to promise. In these verses (a central section of the Good Shepherd discourse), Jesus combines figurative and discursive language to evoke the type of friendship he offers the community. In 10: Ua, Jesus says, "I am the good shepherd," but he immediately moves away from first-person language to describe more generalized activities of the shepherd. The good shepherd "lays down his life for the sheep" (v.l Ib), as opposed to the hireling who would put the sheep at risk rather than risk his own life (w. 12-13). This mini-parable could be taken as an illustration of the classical distinction between the true and the false friend-the false friend will not be around in a time of crisis, but the true friend will be.27<br />The move from maxim to promise in Jesus' teaching is signaled by his return to firstperson language ("I lay down my life for the sheep," v. 15) and to direct speech about his own life and death: "For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own accord" (w. 17-18a). The first-person language clarifies that Jesus is not speaking generally about the gift of one's life for others but making a specific promise about his own life. Jesus has already pointed figuratively toward his death earlier in the gospel narrative (e.g., 3:14; 8:28). New here is his direct speech about his death and the element of volition he highlights. Jesus announces that he will choose to give his life for the sheep. His words are no longer generalized teachings about friendship; they are about the conduct of his own life.<br />The stories of Jesus' arrest and death show that his promises about the gift of his life can be trusted. The scene of the arrest in the garden contains interesting echoes of John 10 when Jesus leads his disciples into an enclosed garden, recalling the shepherd and the sheepfold of John 10:1-5. There is a thief in the garden (Judas, 18:2; described as kleptës in 12:7), like the bandit in the sheepfold (kleptës, 10:1). Against this backdrop, Jesus' act of volition, in which he steps forward to meet those who come to arrest him (18:4-6),28 can only be read as showing the truth of his announcement and promise in 10:17-18: he lays down his life of his own accord. At 18:11, Jesus states explicitly that he chooses the death that is before him ("the cup that the Father has given me"; cf. 12:27). Jesus' life is not taken from him; rather, he willingly chooses the ultimate act of friendship. Jesus also directly links the offer of his life to his care for his "sheep" (cf. 10:11-13) with the protective instruction to "let these men go."29<br />Jesus' free offer of his life for his friends is also illustrated in the quiet dignity of his death scene (19:28-30). Jesus announces the end of his own life and work: "It is finished." The description of Jesus' moment of dying positions him as the actor in laying down his life, not as one acted upon: "Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit."<br />The arrest and crucifixion narratives confirm that Jesus' words about laying down his life for others articulate much more than the ideal situation. In the life and death of Jesus, the friendship convention of loving another enough to give one's life moves from philosophical or moral possibility to incarnated actuality. Jesus' words about laying down his life articulate the very real choices that he makes for his own life and that guide his relationships in the world. What was familiar to at least some of John's readers as a standard part of philosophical rhetoric loses its conventional quality and becomes a distinctive description of who Jesus is. Jesus does not merely talk the language of friendship; he lives out his life and death as a friend.<br />Equally important, the convergence of Jesus' words with his actions shows that his words and promises can be trusted. There is complete unanimity between what Jesus says about laying down his life and what Jesus does. Because Jesus is the Word-made-flesh, speech and action are inextricably linked in John (e.g., 14:10). What he receives from God Jesus speaks in God's words and does in works (5:19-24; 10:38; 12:49-50; 17:7-8). Jesus' teaching about laying down one's life in John 10 is a reliable promise because his subsequent enactment of these words shows that Jesus' promises can be trusted.<br />The reliability of Jesus' promises and the integration of his speaking and acting set the context for his teachings about the disciple's own conduct as friends in John 15:12-17. Jesus' own life and death give the teaching of John 15:13 its meaning. The maxim of 15:13 is inseparable from the commandment that precedes it, "Love one another as I have loved you." The Fourth Evangelist has told the reader that Jesus loved his own "to the end" (eis to telos, 13:1), which may simultaneously mean "to the end of time" and "to the full extent of love." Both senses carry over into Jesus' commandment to his disciples. Jesus' incarnation of limitless love moves the teaching of John 15:13 from the realm of the general (e.g., "Only those who love wish to die for others") into the specific. Jesus' disciples are urged to live the same way Jesus has lived, to be the kind of friend that Jesus has been. he is not simply asking them to be good citizens or moral exemplars. he is commanding them to embody the very promises that he has embodied for them (15:14,17).<br />?Interestingly, the title "friend" is never used to describe Jesus in the Fourth Gospel. Throughout this gospel, Jesus has been the incarnation of friendship without the explicit appellation. However, in speaking of his disciples' future lives, Jesus makes the explicit connection between his life of love and the conduct of friends. Jesus calls the disciples his "friends" (philoi), if they enact his commandment (15:14)-to love one another as Jesus has loved them (v. 12), to lay down their lives for their friends (v. 13). Jesus' gift of his life for others embodies friendship's highest attribute and defines the meaning and extent of "love."<br />The title "friend" becomes something into which Jesus invites his disciples to grow. The name "friend," and with it the relationship of friendship, is a gift from Jesus to them,30 just as his life is a gift to them. The disciples begin with the explicit appellation, "friend," and the challenge for them is to enact and embody friendship as Jesus has done. The disciples know how Jesus has been a friend, and they are called to see what kind of friends they can become. Jesus' friendship is the model of friendship for the disciples, and it makes any subsequent acts of friendship by them possible because the disciples themselves are already the recipients of Jesus' acts of friendship.<br />FRIENDSHIP AS BOLDNESS OF SPEECH AND ACTION<br />As noted above, the theme of frankness or boldness of speech (parresia) emerged as an important friendship motif in the Hellenistic period." There were several social contexts in which this theme appeared. One was the patron-client/monarch-subject relationship, in which the benefactor needed to be on the lookout for whether "friends" were speaking honestly and openly, or whether they were engaging in flattery to further their own ends. Another context where parrêsia played a role was in the instruction of the philosophical schools, where frank speech was encouraged as a mark of honest instruction, dialogue, and training. To be someone's friend was to speak frankly and honestly to them and to hold nothing back. A third context, also associated with philosophical schools, used parrêsia to emphasize freedom of speech, even when using that freedom meant taking unpopular positions and speaking openly against the authorities.32<br />Perhaps because this friendship motif does not have the same emotional resonance associated with language about love and laying down one's life, most studies of friendship in John have not lingered on this topic.33 Given the importance of speech and speaking in the Gospel of John, however, a friendship motif that focuses on the nature of speaking seems worthy of study. Indeed, the word parrêsia occurs nine times in the Gospel of John, more often than in any other book of the New Testament (7:4,13, 26; 10:24; 11:14, 54; 16:25, 29; 18:20).<br />The first aspect of parresia, the distinction between flattery and direct speech, is not overt in the Johannine portrait of Jesus as friend. One wonders, however, if there are some resonances of this aspect. The preceding discussion about death, love, and friendship showed how Jesus gave his life openly for others, with no hesitation. Jesus' free gift of his life provides the context for Jesus' words in 12:27 ("And what should I say-'Father, save me from this hour?' No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name."). These words seem to be a play on the "agony" of the Gethsemane tradition from the synoptic gospels (e.g., Matt 26:39), in which Jesus asks that the cup pass from him, if that is God's will. John 12:27 acknowledges this piece of Jesus tradition, but transforms it to conform to the gospel's understanding of the death of Jesus.<br />Yet there may be another reason why John handles the Gethsemane tradition the way he does. The words of the synoptic tradition (e.g, "yet not what I want but what you want," Matt 26:39) could be understood as an attempt to curry favor with a "patron." In John, God and Jesus are true friends ("The Father loves [philei] the Son," 5:20); their relationship embodies full reciprocity and mutuality ("The Father and I are one," 10:30). The revisioning of the Gethsemane tradition makes clear that Jesus does not attempt to flatter God for his own purposes but seeks only God's glory.<br />A similar link to the flattery/direct speech contrast also may provide a context for Jesus' words in 11:41-42. ("Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me") This statement by Jesus prior to calling Lazarus from the tomb has always puzzled commentators because the words seem to interrupt the movement of the story and raise questions about the function of Jesus' prayer.34 Read in light of friendship conventions, however, it is possible that John includes Jesus' commentary on his own prayer here in order to highlight that Jesus is not currying favor with God at this critical moment. he is not attempting to please God with a prayer and positive words. Rather, Jesus turns what could appear as flattery into an instance of open testimony, so that the crowd can see God at work in what Jesus does.<br />The second motif of parresia as a direct and open speech plays a more explicit role in the image of Jesus as friend in John. Of the nine occurrences of parresia in John, three refer to his instruction of the disciples (11:14; 16:25, 29). The first, 11:14, seems relatively straightforward and, as such, its potential significance for understanding friendship is overlooked. Jesus tells his disciples that "our friend (ho philos hemon) Lazarus has fallen asleep (kekoimetai)" (11:11). "To fall asleep," in Greek as in English, can function as a euphemism for death. Jesus' disciples do not recognize Jesus' words as a euphemism, and so do not understand why Jesus should put himself at risk by returning to judea if Lazarus is only sleeping (v. 12). The narrator explains the euphemism to the gospel's readers by drawing attention to the disciples' lack of understanding (v. 13). Jesus explains to his disciples what he meant and explicitly names Lazarus's death (11:14). The narrator describes the speech act by which Jesus informs the disciples about the truth of Lazarus's situation as speaking parresia ("then Jesus told them plainly").<br />Perhaps this "plain speech" is only the decoding of a figurative expression with a literal one. Two aspects of the text argue against assigning this function to parresia, however. First, Jesus uses a conventional euphemism ("fall asleep"), so it is not even clear that he was trying to mask his meaning. second, unlike other sections of the Fourth Gospel where misunderstanding, irony, and metaphor are literary devices intended to move characters to deeper theological understanding (e.g., John 4),35 the misunderstanding here is corrected immediately.<br />The role of parresia in Hellenistic friendship conventions suggests another way of looking at the exchange between Jesus and his disciples (11:11-15). It seems fair to ask if Jesus' direct speech to his disciples might be an act of friendship, through which Jesus reveals the hard truth of their friend Lazarus's death and prepares them for the consequences. The disciples need to face squarely Lazarus's death in order to begin contemplating the significance of what is to come, and that is impossible unless they realize that Lazarus is dead, not merely ill and sleeping. Jesus himself links his "plain speaking" to the disciples' welfare ("For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe," v. 15). Jesus must speak frankly to the disciples about Lazarus's death in order to equip them for the role of disciple that the situation may demand of them, in this case, to see a revelation of God's glory in the raising of Lazarus and so come to believe (cf. 11:2 and 15). Jesus treats the disciples as equals by speaking plainly to them.<br />The importance of parrësia as a mode of speaking and instruction in John can also be seen in 16:25-33. This passage, set at the end of the Farewell Discourse and immediately preceding the Farewell Prayer (John 17), contains Jesus' last words of instruction to his disciples. Jesus contrasts his present speaking to his disciples, which has been "in figures of speech" (enparoimiais), with his eschatological teaching ("the hour is coming"), in which he "will tell you plainly (parresia) of the Father" (v. 25). The contrast between figurative and direct speech tends to shape the interpretation of these verses,36 but again one wonders if Hellenistic friendship conventions suggest another context in which to read Jesus' words here, especially since the vocabulary of friendship (phileo) occurs twice in w. 26-27. Here, Jesus links the effects of the eschatological teaching ("you will ask in my name") with the Father's love of the disciples (autos gar ho pater philei hymas) and the disciples' love of Jesus (hymeis erne pephilekate).<br />Love and friendship are the goal of Jesus' "plain speaking." Rather than simply initiating fresh comprehension on the disciples' part, Jesus leads them to trust the relationship of love and friendship that they have with God and Jesus and thus to speak to God on their own without the mediation of Jesus' speech on their behalf (v. 26). Jesus points the disciples to a different way of being with God and one another. This is why in w. 30-33 Jesus disputes the disciples' claim to comprehend his plain speaking and hence to believe (v. 29). Comprehension without enactment misses the point of speaking parresia. Plain speaking has its effect when the disciples act on God's love of them and their love of Jesus.<br />The combination of plain speaking and love is also found in Jesus' words to the disciples about friendship in 15:15. Although the word parresia does not occur, the sense of plain speaking does. Jesus gives the following rationale for calling the disciples friends: "I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known everything that I have heard from the Father." The disciples are Jesus' friends because he has spoken to them openly; he has made known to them everything (panto) that he has heard from the Father. As Schnackenburg has noted about 15:15, "Jesus enables his disciples to participate in the intimacy and trust of the Father, by means of which they acquire that Openness' (parresia) which is the privilege of a free man and a friend . . . ."37<br />In this verse, the two motifs of friendship, love and open speech, come together in Jesus' relationship with his disciples. They are his friends because he speaks plainly and openly to them and tells them everything about God (15:15; 16:25) and because he loves them and gives his life for them (13:1; 15:12-13). They will remain his friends if they keep his commandment and love one another as he has loved them (15:14, 17). They are empowered to keep his commandment because he has told them everything, and so they have their own new relationship with God who loves them (16:26-27).<br />The third context in Hellenistic friendship conventions in which parresia occurs is that of freedom of speech. This is related to the flattery/frank speech contrast: a friend is someone who, both in private and public, always speaks openly and honestly regardless of the cost. Two occurrences of parresia point to this context. In ch. 7, the crowd notes, "Is not this the man whom they are trying to kill? And here he is, speaking openly (parresia), but they say nothing to him! Can it be that the authorities really know that this is the Messiah?" (7:25-26). The crowd's words testify to Jesus' character as one who does not shirk from the exercise of free and frank speech. Despite the personal risk, Jesus speaks openly in the face of the authorities.<br />In the second occurrence, Jesus speaks to his own character and the open character of his ministry. In his trial before the high priest, in response to questions "about his disciples and his teaching" (18:19), Jesus answers, "I have spoken openly (parresia) to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret" (v. 20). In the light of Hellenistic friendship conventions, it is possible to read Jesus' words here as signifying more than just the distinction between public and private teachings. Rather, they show also that Jesus embodies the traits of open and direct speech, the hallmarks of friendship. At Jesus' trial, the moment of greatest public exposure, Jesus describes his ministry as having been characterized by freedom of speech throughout its duration. Jesus has not held anything back in his self-revelation but has spoken with the freedom that marks a true friend. His open and honest words are more important than any personal risk.<br />Here, too, in the exercise of free and frank speech, there is an important convergence between word and deed. As the incarnate Word, Jesus does not simply exercise freedom of speech; he embodies freedom of action. Jesus' entire life and ministry is an exercise of parrêsia. For example, his ministry is marked by repeated journeys to Jerusalem (2:13; 5:1; 7:10; 10:22; 12:1), the official seat of those in religious and political power. Even when the personal risk is quite apparent, Jesus chooses to live his life in boldness and openness. In one of the initial acts of his ministry, Jesus visits the Jerusalem temple and announces with both word and deed the truth that shapes his work in the world (2:13-22). This act sets the tone for what is to follow and demonstrates the truth of Jesus' statement in 18:20, "I have spoken openly to the world." His trial before Pilate also embodies open and frank speech, because Jesus does not hesitate to speak the truth to this figure of authority (see esp. 18:33-38).<br />CONCLUSION<br />Hellenistic friendship conventions assist us in understanding further the portrait of Jesus that the Fourth Evangelist has created with these bold words and actions. Such boldness resonates with what the Hellenistic philosophers taught about friendship. Jesus is a true friend not only because of the gift of his own life but also because throughout his life he has spoken openly.<br />These two friendship traits are connected: Jesus is willing to speak and act boldly throughout his life because he is willing to lay down his life. Jesus is the ultimate friend. Friendship in John is the enactment of the love of God that is incarnate in Jesus and that Jesus boldly makes available to the world.<br />[Sidebar] In the teachings about laying down one's life for a friend, the gospel's first readers would recognize that Jesus is evoking a world in which the greatest moral good prevails.<br />[Sidebar] Jesus does not merely talk the language of friendship; he lives out his life and death as a friend.<br />[Sidebar] Jesus did what the philosophers only talked about-he lay down his life for his friends. This makes all the difference in appropriating friendship as a theological category.<br />[Footnote] 1 See, e.g., S. McFague, Metaphorical Theology: Models of God in Religious Language (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982); E. Johnson, She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1994); C. M. LaCugna, God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life (San Francisco: Harper SanFrancisco, 1991); E. Moltmann-Wendel, Rediscovering Friendship, tr. J. Bowden (London: SCM, 2000). 2 See, e.g., the two collections of essays edited by J. T. Fitzgerald, Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, SBLRBS 34 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997); and Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech, NovTSup 82 (Leiden: Brill, 1996). 3 For a discussion of the range of meaning of philos, see D. Konstan, "Greek Friendship," AJP 117 (1996) 71-94. 4 A. C. Mitchell, "'Greet the Friends by Name': New Testament Evidence for the Greco-Roman Topos on Friendship," in Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, 225-62, esp. 261-62. see D. Konstan, "Problems in the History of Christan Friendship," JECS 4 (1996) 87-113, for the contributions of later Christian writers to the concept of friendship in antiquity. 5 F. M. Schroeder, "Friendship in Aristotle and Some Peripatetic Philosophers," in Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, 36. 6 Konstan, "History of Christian Friendship," 90. 7 See, e.g., M. Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986); Schroeder, "Friendship in Aristotle"; L. S. Pangle, Aristotle and the Philosophy of Friendship (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Athens was a small slice of the ancient world, even the Greek world, and the other city-states did not share the Athenians' enthusiasm for democracy. Sparta, for example, was more of a military state, whose military defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War (431-404B.C.E.). 8 Eth. nic. 9.8.9 [LCL translation]. 9 D. Konstan, "Friendship, Frankness and Flattery," in Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech, 8-12. 10 See, e.g., Plutarch, How to Tell a Flatterer from a Friend (Adul. Amic.); Cicero, On Friendship (Laelius; de amicitia). 11 Plutarch, How to Tell a Flatterer from a Friend, 61. 12 Ibid., 51. 13 See the use of this expression in John 19:12. 14 See Pythagorean sayings collections, e.g., H. Chadwick, The Sentences ofSextus: A Contribution to the History of Early Christian Ethics, Texts and Studies n.s. 5 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959); and J. C. Thorn, The Pythagorean Golden Verses: With Introduction and Commentary, Religion in the Greco-Roman World 123 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), and biographical traditions, Iamblichus: On the Pythagorean Way of Life, SBLTT 29 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991). 15 For a careful discussion of one Stoic perspective on friendship, see C. E. Glad, "Frank Speech, Flattery, and Friendship in Philodemus," in Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech, 21-60. 16 "Again, the proverb says, 'Friends' goods are common property,' and this is correct, since community is the essence of friendship" (Eth. nie. 8.9.2). 17 See A. C. Mitchell, "The Social Function of Friendship in Acts 2:44-47 and 4:32-47," JBL 111 (1992) 255-72. 18 See three recent book-length studies of friendship in John: E. Puthenkandathil, Philos: A Designation for the Jesus-Disciple Relationship. An Exegetico-Theological Investigation of the Term in the Fourth Gospel (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1993); J. M. Ford, Redeemer-Friend and Mother: Salvation in Antiquity and in the Gospel of John (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997); S. Ringe, Wisdom's Friends: Community and Christology in the Fourth Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1999). 19 Of the three recent books on friendship and John cited above, Ford and Ringe are attentive to the first-century social and rhetorical context. 20 See R. R Hock, "An Extraordinary Friend in Chariton's Callirhoe: The Importance of Friendship in the Greek Romances," in Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, 145-162. 21 Even if, as R. Pervo suggests ("With Lucian: Who Needs Friends? Friendship in the Toxaris" in Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, 163-80), Lucian intended this work as a parody of the friendship tales of romances, the friendship topoi embodied by these stories had to have been widely recognized for the parody to be effective. 22 E.g., both Ringe, Wisdom's Friends, and Ford, Redeemer-Friend and Mother, discuss this motif and its relationship to the love commandment (13:33-35 and 15:12), but neither even alludes to the motif of boldness. 23 E.g., R. Brown, The Gospel According to John XIIl-XXI, AB 29A (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1970) 664. 24 Symp. 179B, also 208D. see also Aristotle, Eth. nie. 9.8.9; Lucian, Toxaris 36; Epictetus, Diss. 2.7.3; and Seneca, Ep. 9.10. In the New Testament, see Rom 5:6-8. 25 It is also the case that the distinctive soteriology of the Gospel of John is often subsumed under the models of vicarious suffering or Jesus' death as a ransom for sins. John does not subscribe to either of those dominant understandings, but those perspectives so dominate most Christian theology and piety that the Johannine voice is not heard. see G. R. O'Day, John: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections, NIB 9 (Nashville: Abingdon, 1995) 713-15. 26 For an excellent discussion of "noble death" and its connections to John, see J. Neyrey, "The 'Noble Shepherd' in John 10: Cultural and Rhetorical Background," JBL 120 (2001) 267-91. Oddly, Neyrey never explicitly links the noble death motif with the motif of friendship, even though both John and Greco-Roman philosophers do. 27 E.g., Lucian, Toxaris 36 ("Just so in calm weather a man cannot tell whether his sailing master is good; he will need a storm to determine that."). 28 Jesus does not wait for judas to identify him with a kiss in John, thereby robbing the "thief" of any access to the shepherd and his flock. 29 Neyrey, "Noble Shepherd," 291. 30 So R. Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John, 3 vols. (New York: Crossroad, 1982) 3.110. see also the language of election in 15:16, "You did not choose me but I chose you." 31 See the collection of essays, Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech. 32 See the essay by W. Klassen, "PARRESIA in the Johannine Corpus," in Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech, 227-54. This essay, while solidly grounded in the Hellenistic context, does not provide a very subtle reading of the Johannine material. 33 See n. 22 above. Klassen's essay studies parresia but does not link it with friendship. Schnackenburg, Sf. John, 3.111, alludes to the connection between parresia and friendship in John 15 (see discussion below) but does not develop it. 34 E.g., A. Loisy, Le Quatrieme Evangile (Paris: Alphonse Picard, 1903) 651. 35 For a discussion of this aspect of John, see R. A. Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983); and G. R. O'Day, Revelation in Fourth Gospel: Narrative Mode and Theological Claim (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986). 36 Interestingly, Schnackenburg, who noted the connection between parresia and friendship in connection with 15:15 (see n. 33), makes no connection between "speaking openly" and friendship here (St. John, 3.161-66). 37 St. John, 3.110. Ambrose, in De officiis ministrorum 3.22.135, sees in John 15:15 one of the core practices of Christian friendship: "Let us reveal our bosom to [a friend], and let him reveal his to us. Therefore, he said, I have called you friends, because all that 1 have heard from my Father, I have made known to you. Therefore a friend hides nothing, if he is true: he pours forth his mind, just as the Lord Jesus poured forth the mysteries of his Father." see Konstan, "History of Christian Friendship," 106-110.<br />[Author Affiliation] GAIL R. O'DAY Professor of New Testament Candler School of Theology<br /><br /></strong><strong></strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1115416716556146812004-10-14T14:57:00.000-07:002005-05-08T23:24:45.803-07:00"Follow Me" The Imperious Call of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels<img src="http://www.rabbihixon.com/studyguides/images/jesus_i_follow_sg_img.gif" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>"Follow Me" The Imperious Call of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels </strong><br /><p><strong></strong></p><strong><p><br /><em>F Scott Spencer. Interpretation. Richmond: Apr 2005.Vol.59, Iss. 2; pg. 142, 12 pgs </em></p><em></em><p><br />Copyright Interpretation Apr 2005</p><p><br />Jesus displays audacious personal authority in summoning his followers to join him in advancing the kingdom of God. He does not negotiate with disciples. Moreover, the content of his call implies an alternative political (imperial) as well as religious (spiritual) vocation.<br />The familiar evangelical chorus, "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus"-originating among new believers in the Garo tribe of India and now sung by Christians throughout the world-pithily captures the cost and commitment of discipleship demanded in the Gospels ("no turning back," cf. Luke 9:62).' For all its popularity and piety, however, this folk song also skews key dimensions of following Jesus depicted in the gospel narratives. In particular, the emphasis upon individual ("I") and volitional ("have decided") responses to Jesus overshadows the scriptural focus on social and imperial aspects of discipleship.<br />Canvassing the five main episodes in the Synoptic Gospels featuring a direct call to "come after" or to "follow" Jesus,2 we discover that the vocation of discipleship stems much more from an overwhelming political compulsion than a deliberate personal decision. The initiative and authority belong to Jesus.3 With breathtaking audacity and sovereignty, Jesus dares to break into the lives of two fraternal pairs of fishermen and a tax collector-without warning, during business hours-and order them to "come after/follow me." And without discussion, without deliberation, they "immediately" and mysteriously leave their jobs and follow Jesus. In the two scenes where would-be adherents approach Jesus first and an exchange ensues, Jesus promptly takes the reins, reorients the seekers' misguided preconceptions of discipleship, and insists that they follow him on his own terms-period. Jesus does not negotiate with disciples. He does not force anyone to follow, but those who do follow fall under the force of his call and agenda. Bluntly put, it is his way or the highway.<br />Such a pushy, peremptory Jesus is scarcely in vogue today. This image smacks too much of a high-handed despot, an absolute monarch, like Caesar or Herod in Jesus' day. An imperious Jesus-summoning people to drop everything and follow his way-seems too close for comfort to imperial oppressors in the first century (and our own). And, in fact, the fit between Jesus' domineering mien (which should not surprise us, given his basileia [kingdom/dominion] preoccupation and kyrios [lord/master] designation) and the conduct of Caesar and cohorts is not at all comfortable. The rule that Jesus promotes, while as totalitarian in scope as anything Caesar might imagine, runs directly counter to the tyrannical character of Caesar's regime. Jesus advances the basileia tou theou, the just and merciful empire of Israel's God,4 before whom no other gods or kings, deities or powers, are worthy of honor.<br />In this article concentrating on three of the five "follow me" scenes in the Synoptic Gospels, I begin to explore not only the persuasive imperious style of Jesus' calls to discipleship, but also their subversive imperial substance. Various activities linked with Jesus' "follow me" commissions-seemingly routine acts of fishing and eating, on the one hand, and the ritual, religious act of burying, on the other-pack more political punch than is often assumed, especially in the highly charged atmosphere of Roman-occupied Palestine. And it may be that Jesus and/or the synoptic evangelists intended that punch to level a knockout blow against exploitative Roman domination.5<br />GO FISH<br />Jesus' first public act of ministry in Matthew and Mark, under the general heading of "proclaiming the kingdom of heaven/God," occurs in transit near the seaside village of Capernaum (Matt 4:18-22//Mark 1:16-20). As he "walked by/passed along" the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he spies two fisher-brothers, Simon (Peter) and Andrew, in mid-cast and summons them to "follow me." No exchanging of greetings, no stopping to chat, no waiting for break time. And then just as abruptly, with no questions asked, the fishermen "immediately" forsake their nets and follow Jesus as he keeps moving ("as he went from there"/ "as he went a little farther") and recruits yet another pair of brother-fishermen, James and John, busy at work in the family boat with their father Zebedee. Without so much as a "hello" to Zebedee from Jesus or a "goodbye" to Zebedee from his sons (even the maverick Elijah permits Elisha to give his parents a farewell kiss),6 Jesus snags (hooks) two more followers on the fly.<br />Although providing no elaborate job description or plan of action, Jesus does issue a succinct "mission statement" for his new disciples: "I will make you fishers of people." The imperious thrust of Jesus' call continues not only in the brazen confidence of his claim ("I will make you what I want you to be"), but also in its vocational focus on fishing. Unfortunately, in the popular imagination, few biblical metaphors have been more misunderstood than this one.7 Among North American Christians at least, catching or fishing for people tends to conjure up quaint images of "picturesque peasants in rowboats" on a placid summer day at the lake,8 illustrating the evangelistic duty of every Christian to "win souls," one by one, to Jesus-to enlist others in our cozy fellowship, our fishing club for Christ. Wholly missing in this idyllic portrait are the harsh physical, political, and economic realities of the Galilean fishing industry in Jesus' day.<br />Although some fishers in first-century Palestine angled with hook and line (no rod and reel!), this was not what occupied Peter and company. They cast nets (either a smaller one single-handedly or a larger dragnet) to catch as many fish as possible not for recreational purposes, but in order to make a living-a hard living at that.9 In a word, fishing was taxing business, in both the physical and financial sense.10 Trolling throughout the night on a lake subject to sudden storms, hauling in (if lucky) hundreds of pounds of fish flesh, gutting it for sale or transport, and tending to the basic tools of the trade (nets and boats) through an endless cycle of washing, mending, folding, and repairing-all of this made for grimy, smelly, bloody, back-breaking work, despised by elites and sophisticates who, nonetheless, enjoyed the product of the fishermen's labors.11<br />While the fishermen themselves might profit from their toil, fishing revenues in Herodian-controlled Galilee were severely siphoned off by a tightly regulated political monopoly. Buoyed by his opulent new capital city Tiberias, dedicated to the emperor on the western bank of the Galilean sea, as well as by the booming demand for Galilean fish sauces and stews throughout the empire, Herod Antipas, tetrarch of Galilee, seized the opportunity to make the small inland lake of Galilee into a real "sea," his own private "little Mediterranean" pond.12 The Roman client-king developed his own microcosmic version of Caesar's claim to own all the oceans and waterways of the realm and everything in them.13 At every turn, family fishing businesses, like those of Jesus' disciples, were caught in Antipas's conglomerate net, forcing them to procure fishing licenses and leases, to produce demanding quotas, and to pay taxes, tolls, and other fees to an extensive bureaucracy monitoring the whole fishing enterprise, from catching to processing to shipping.<br />When Jesus comes along, then, and calls the four Galilean fishermen to follow him, he is essentially saying: "You're working for me now, not Antipas; you're fishing for the kingdom of God, not the Roman-Galilean empire." We are not told what motivates the men to drop their nets and follow Jesus. Perhaps they already sense in Jesus the prospect of a new way of doing business, an alternative kingdom. In any case, they respond not only to Jesus' potential liberation, but also to his patent domination evident in his imperious command to follow. They cast their lot (and net) with a new ruler, the agent of God's empire.<br />Beyond the exploitative dimensions of the Galilean fishing trade in Jesus' day, a more obvious (but still curiously neglected) aspect of such work was its fundamentally destructive aim. To catch fish is to kill them! Appropriately, Old Testament prophets use fish-catching (along with fowl-hunting) as an image of devastating divine judgment not only against oppressive foreign nations (like Egypt; see Ezek 29:2-7), but also against the iniquitous people of God (idolatrous Judah in Jer 16:16-18 and unjust Samaria in Amos 4:1-2). Habakkuk uses the same image, but with considerable angst: "You [O Lord] have made people like the fish of the sea, like crawling things that have no ruler. The enemy brings all of them up with a hook; he drags them out with his net, he gathers them in his seine; so he rejoices and exults.... Is he then to keep on emptying his net, and destroying the nations without mercy?" (2:14-17).<br />We might pose a similar query to Jesus: "Why perpetuate this violent, destructive fishing metaphor as a blueprint for Christian mission?" As one writer has quipped, at least sheep (another stock zoological image for God's people) get to be fed and tended for a while before being shorn and/or slaughtered.14 By contrast, the work of fishing is swiftly "fatal and final"15-for the fish!-and eerily evocative of the marauding, martial force of imperial conquest. So what is Jesus up to with his people-fishing call? It is hard to say, and I do not want to blunt the shocking, disturbing punch of Jesus' call with banal explanation (especially since he provides no commentary). Suffice it to say that, on some level, Jesus appropriates the agenda of rapacious imperial domination in order to establish an alternative kingdom, the empire of God. As Jesus himself "catches" people, far from killing them, he feeds, heals, exorcises, and resuscitates the needy. Such is the good news of this kingdom.16 But in one dramatic case at least, in the process of liberating an "occupied" demoniac, Jesus sends a pack of Legion-infested pigs hurtling down the mountain and into the Sea of Galilee, which is the opposite action of pulling fish out of the sea, but with equally lethal results (Matt 8:28-34//Mark 5:1-20//Luke 8:26-39). And the "Legion" troop is as obvious a symbol of Roman military might as one could imagine, and by no means an innocuous reference, given this Legion's virulent disruption of the demoniac's life and its own violent destruction in the abyss.<br />LET'S EAT<br />In Mark's narrative, Jesus' next "follow me" call comes soon in the succeeding chapter and targets a tax collector named Levi (2:13-17). Matthew and Luke contain closely parallel accounts later in their Gospels (Matt 9:9-13//Luke 5:27-32), the main distinction being Matthew's naming the disciple "Matthew." Once again the episode is set "beside the sea" (Mark 2:13), near Peter and Andrew's home fishing village of Capernaum; and once again, while "Jesus was walking along" (Mark 2:14//Matt 9:9), he abruptly challenges a man on the job-"at the tax booth"-to join him. Without delay or discussion, Levi/Matthew gets up from his desk and goes with Jesus. Luke punctuates the scene with the stark comment, "he left everything" (5:28). And so the pattern continues: Jesus' intrusive, imperious call triggers an immediate, immoderate response.<br />But not everything matches the previous call scene. Most notably, Jesus does not provide any explanation of what he intends for Levi to do. There is no "I will make you fish for people" or anything more fitting for Levi's profession ("I will make you collect people, count the crowds, assess the situation, etc."). The blunt "follow me" without any elaboration only accentuates the effrontery of Jesus' mandate.<br />While on the surface it may seem that Jesus and the gospel writers could not care less about Levi's particular identity or occupation, closer historical and literary analysis suggests otherwise. First, any mention of a tax collector (telones) in first-century Palestine can scarcely be considered incidental, given the heavy, multi-layered tax burden imposed on the vast majority of the population for the benefit of a tiny elite minority. Part of this politicaleconomic network was sketched above in relation to the Galilean fishing industry. To elaborate briefly, any Galilean worker was subject to a staggering hierarchy of financial debts-head taxes, property taxes, sales taxes, shipping fees, transport tolls, and other customs and duties-starting with Caesar at the top of the patronage heap and extending to Caesar's chief client-rulers, like Herod Antipas, with various agents and functionaries taking their cut (and then some) along the way. And then we should not forget the taxes and tithes exacted by the Judean temple establishment in Jerusalem that was tolerated by Rome in exchange for keeping the peace.17 Embedded in such a stifling system, it is no wonder that Judas the Galilean and others instigated a tax revolt (unsuccessfully), claiming God as the only true Master worthy of tribute, financial and otherwise.18<br />Levi's tax office or customs house by the Sea of Galilee in Capernaum constituted a daily, tangible reminder of the problem. Levi was part of the system, one of Herod's minions, and perhaps, by virtue of his location, the very one who leased the fishing rights for Peter and associates and levied the first tariffs on their catches.19 And while the synoptic stories tell us nothing about Levi's business practices, the original audiences would doubtless have assumed a propensity toward cheating and profiteering, with the help of police enforcement.20 As John the Baptist discerns in Luke, tax collectors and soldiers ganged together in extortionist practices (Luke 3:12-14). Moreover, Levi's name (in Mark and Luke)-evocative of the priestly tribe of Israel supported by the people's tithes and offerings-may have elicited a sardonic smirk: here someone who symbolizes legitimate, voluntary "taxation" in Israel's theocratic kingdom is working for "King" Herod (in Rome's hip pocket) to impose extra, onerous tax burdens on God's people. As the parable of the Good Samaritan indicates in Luke, Jesus is not any too sanguine about current Levitical commitment to justice in the first place (10:30-37).<br />While Jesus does not physically topple Levi's tax booth, as he will the tables of the temple money-changers, by calling Levi to leave his post, Jesus still disrupts the Galilean tax system. A "closed" or "out to lunch" sign at the local customs house could only encourage tax evasion. Actually, "out to lunch" aptly describes Levi's whereabouts, because the next scene features a dinner party at his home with Jesus and a large company of fellow publicans and other assorted "sinners." The initiative seems to shift, as Jesus apparently "follows" Levi home to eat. But in fact this fellowship meal boosts Jesus' honor and fits his plans quite nicely. Luke stresses that Levi "gave the great banquet for him [Jesus]" (5:29) and later makes clear, in Jesus' encounter with another tax worker (a "chief" officer named Zacchaeus), that Jesus is not shy about inviting himself to dinner in imposing terms ("I must stay at your house today," 19:5). Each of the Synoptic Gospels depicts Jesus' eating with tax collectors and sinners as an intentional, integral part of his mission (cf. Matt 11:19; Luke 7:34; 15:1-2). Levi may provide the house and the menu, but Jesus controls the affair as both honored guest and imperious (as well as gracious) host. Jesus uses this venue, as he explains to his Pharisaic critics, not merely to socialize but to evangelize-to call and challenge sinners like Levi and associates. Only Luke specifies the goal of calling "sinners to repentance" (5:32). In the case of the tax collectors at least, if Jesus calls them, as he did Levi, to forsake their jobs and follow him, that guarantees some measure of reform, not only for the individual employees, but also for the whole Herodian economy. Abandoned tax booths at seaports and checkpoints throughout the Galilee do not bode well for imperial business.<br />LEAVE THE DEAD<br />Matthew and Luke21 share another "follow me" call of Jesus, albeit in different settings (Matt 8:18-22//Luke 9:57-60). Matthew's Jesus remains headquartered around the Sea of Galilee, preparing "to go over to the other side" (8:18), while Luke's Jesus is "going along the road" southward from Galilee to Jerusalem (through Samaria) (9:51-57). In both cases a prospective disciple22 approaches the itinerant Jesus with the frank assertion, "I will follow you wherever you go." Such an open-ended commitment might seem to be exactly what Jesus would want and even more-since it comes unexpectedly without Jesus' prompting. But in fact Jesus does not warmly accept this seeker's offer. He doesn't quite turn him away either, but rather clarifies the extreme nomadic lifestyle demanded of all who follow ("the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head."). The ensuing silence and disappearance of the would-be follower suggest that, for all his initial bravado, he ultimately preferred a good night's sleep to the rigors of camping out with Jesus.<br />Attention immediately shifts to a second prospect to whom Jesus asserts his authority and commands, "Follow me." The peremptory, initiatory element is more evident in Luke, where Jesus abruptly pivots from responding to the first man to calling "another" who happens to be in the neighborhood. In Matthew, Jesus' call answers the proposal of another interlocutor already designated a "disciple." But whoever starts the conversation, the content is the same: not only Jesus' "follow me," but also his stunning dismissal of the second person's plea to bury his father before journeying with Jesus. "Let the dead bury their own dead," Jesus bluntly retorts. He brooks no adjustments, however seemingly justified, to his urgent agenda.<br />If few of Jesus' statements have been more misunderstood than "I will make you fishers of people" because of cultural naïveté, few have caused more consternation than "let the dead bury their dead," because its meaning rings all too clear, regardless of cultural context. Ancient Jews, Greeks, and Romans, as well as most people today across the ethnic and religious spectrum, regard some form of decent burial and "last rites"-especially for close kin-as a fundamental human right in a civilized society. If anything qualifies as an "excused absence" from any other activity, mundane or extraordinary, it would be burying one's parents. Addressing his son Tobias, Tobit patently reflects the core values of Jesus' Jewish environment: "My son, when I die, give me a proper burial. Honor your mother and do not abandon her all the days of her life.... And when she dies, bury her beside me in the same grave" (Tob 4:3-4). At the appropriate time, Tobias faithfully fulfills his father's wishes for an "honorable funeral" (14:11-13), the ultimate commitment to Moses' stipulation to "honor your father and mother."<br />Whereas elsewhere Jesus staunchly supports this Decalogue commandment, even against certain legal experts who sought to mitigate its requirements (Matt 15:3-6//Mark 7:8-13), his refusal to allow a prospective follower to bury his father seems to turn the law on its head. Exceptions were made for high priests and holy Nazirites oath-bound to avoid corpse impurity, even of immediate kin, at all costs (Lev 21:10-11; Num 6:6-7).23 But while Jesus devotes himself wholly to God and generally supports purity regulations (e.g., sending the healed leper to the priests for inspection), he does so as an ordinary Galilean Jew, not as high priest or Nazirite (Nazarene does not equal Nazirite). Matthew and Luke highlight Jesus' royal lineage through David, not a priestly one through Aaron, and depict Jesus touching dead bodies at funerals and, unlike the abstemious Baptist, imbibing fermented drink at banquets in very un-Nazirite fashion.24 Jesus is not flouting laws pertaining to kosher diet or corpse impurity: he is simply acting like most Israelites who eat and drink and must tend to the dead. In fact, proper attention to burying the dead, while rendering the handlers temporarily defiled, insures the wider maintenance of order throughout the land.25<br />Thus the bizarre mandate to let the dead bury their dead appears to run counter not only to cultural norms, but also to Jesus' own typical attitude and behavior. Popular attempts to disentangle this interpretive knot often resort to further religious/spiritual considerations. While Jesus does not hold his followers to exceptional high-priestly or Nazirite standards, he does insist that they put God's will and way first above all other obligations, familial and funereal. The imperious Jesus speaks again: he would have resisted any plea to "first (proton) let me go" and do anything. Also, in order to make the "leave the dead" injunction somewhat more palatable, commentators commonly regard one or both "dead" references in spiritual terms: "Let the (spiritually) dead bury the (spiritually) dead."26 That does not clarify much (who are the "spiritually dead" and why is Jesus thinking of them here?), but at least the "spiritually dead" might theoretically be able to do something with other dead folks (spiritual or not), whereas the incapacitated "really dead" can hardly be expected to do anything.<br />But Jesus does not blanch at impossible images (think of camels passing through needles' eyes) nor does he limit himself to some artificially compartmentalized "religious" or "spiritual" sphere of life and death. So again, while not denying that Jesus calls for personal commitment and consecration to God above all other loyalties, I push further to try to ascertain possible material and political implications of Jesus' vocation. Taken in its starkest sense, "let the dead ones [pl.] bury their own dead ones [pl.]" evokes an absurd, grisly scenario of multiplying dead ones and mass new-burial. If the recently dead are relying on the previously dead to bury them, then clearly burial has ceased to take place; rather, the body count will only continue to rise.<br />Byron McCane has persuasively argued that the man who approaches Jesus is specifically concerned about "secondary burial," that is, re-burying or gathering his father's desiccated bones with his ancestors' in the family tomb, culminating a year-long ritual of mourning.27 Given his urgent eschatological mission, Jesus doesn't have time to allow this extended burial process to happen "first." Bodies and bones must be left as they are. If the setting underlying the would-be follower's request "is a normal first-century burial cave," as McCane avers, "then the father's body is only one of many that lie there, each of them in varying states of decomposition and burial."28 Accordingly, if Jesus' command is heeded, the decomposition will proceed apace, but the (re)burial will halt. Before long, the tombs will be filled only with disarrayed skeletons, many disjointed from one another.<br />Such a picture of untended, disorderly tombs is upsetting enough, both physically and socially, since gathered bones reinforce kinship ties. But conjoined with the political experience of imperial conquest and occupation and with Jesus' previous statement about "foxes and birds," the macabre scenario, I suggest, is even more disturbing. While the prospective disciple may be thinking about unburied bones (already) in a family tomb, Jesus' word-picture evokes memory of much less fortunate corpses and carcasses as well. Recall, in the wake of Babylon's conquest, Ezekiel's famous landscape of dry bones that had never even been accorded the dignity of initial burial (Ezek 37:1-14). The book of Tobit displays a similar situation in the aftermath of Assyrian aggression, though Tobit himself does everything he can to clean up the marauders' mess:<br />If I saw the dead body of any of my people thrown out behind the wall of Nineveh, I would bury it. I also buried any whom King Sennacherib put to death when he came fleeing from Judea in those days of judgment that the king of heaven executed upon him because of his blasphemies. For in his anger he put to death many Israelites; but I would secretly remove the bodies and bury them (1:17-18).<br />And perhaps most relevant to Jesus' shocking non-burial portrait is God's charge to Jeremiah, on the brink of Judah's invasion by Babylon:<br />For thus says the Lord concerning the sons and daughters who are born in this place, and concerning the mothers who bear them and the fathers who beget them in this land: They shall die of deadly diseases. They shall not be lamented, nor shall they be buried; they shall become like dung on the surface of the ground. They shall perish by the sword and by famine, and their dead bodies shall become food for the birds of the air and for the wild animals of the earth (16:3-4).<br />Jeremiah's horrible picture comes from the same chapter, noted above, that speaks of God's iniquitous people being snared by foreign fishermen (16:16-18). Once again, then, we confront a tragically apt image of the devastating predicament of Jesus' occupied land and nation. Roman and Herodian rulers established and enforced their hegemony over Palestine through capital punishment as much as economic exploitation, leaving a trail of exposed bodies in their wake. Apart from the myriad casualties of invasive military conquest, victims of crucifixion, sometimes in the thousands, regularly served as gruesome billboards of imperial occupation.29 To punctuate their glorious authority and their enemies' ignominy, the Romans typically permitted only dishonorable burial of the crucified in criminals' caves or graveyards, apart from family. More often than not and more shamefully still, they simply left the dead hanging on the cross or cast them into shallow grave pits "for the birds of the air and for the wild animals of the earth" to consume.30<br />In the tradition shared by Matthew and Luke, Jesus elsewhere envisions the apocalyptic scene of human corpses as carrion for scavengers: "Where the corpse is, there the vultures will gather" (Matt 24:28//Luke 17:37).31 Could Jesus have something similar in view in his "let the dead bury their dead" pronouncement, immediately preceded by references to "foxes [have holes] and birds of the air [have nests]"? Such zoological illustrations are usually thought to be random, innocent examples of creatures with homes (holes/nests), unlike the wandering Son of Man. Jesus could just have easily spoken about donkeys with stables, sheep with pens, pigs with sties, etc. But he does not. He selects instead two animals known for their rapacious, predatory habits, one of which he later applies in Luke 13:31-33 directly to the murderous Herod Antipas-"that fox" who wants to kill him as it already has beheaded John (Jesus is not admiring Herod's "foxy" wiles or looks).32 Jesus also speaks derisively in Matthew and Luke about those who "live in luxury . . . in royal palaces" (Luke 7:25; cf. Matt 11:8)-a description that precisely fits Antipas, with his recently minted mansions in Sepphoris and Tiberias. "That fox" has quite a den; that bird has a nest to die for-built on the backs and bones of Galilean workers.33<br />In leading his followers on a homeless course, with no place to lay their heads, Jesus identifies with those who are marginalized and displaced in occupied Palestine and counterpoints the vulturish imperial authorities and their cohorts who live in palatial splendor. However, in exhorting his followers to leave the dead unburied, Jesus more co-opts than counters imperial policy: exposed, disgraced corpses are the stock-in-trade of brutal conquerors, the bread and butter of voracious birds and foxes. Again, Jesus' language shocks, jars, and puzzles in a way that no explanation can fully satisfy.<br />But perhaps we gain some purchase on Jesus' meaning by realizing that appropriating enemy rhetoric can be a means of resistance-subversion from within, taking over (overtaking) the channels of power and communication. This is dangerous business, of course, not only because of the potential to fail, but more critically, because of the tendency to become like the enemy in the process. Ironic distance from the oppressor must be firmly maintained alongside strategies of appropriation. Jesus accentuates this separation by his vagabond, anti-Herodian existence: he dwells in no royal villa on the beach. Aligned with the unsettling image of unburied bodies, we might then imagine the homeless Jesus wandering among his dead compatriots in sympathy and lamentation, even with eschatological visions of divine restoration and resurrection on the horizon-not unlike those that came to Jeremiah and Ezekiel in their dark valleys of dry bones (Jer 16:14-15; Ezek 37:3-14).<br />CONCLUSION<br />But whatever Jesus was thinking and doing, we can be assured that his head was not in the clouds and his feet were not off the ground. Preoccupied with the realities of fishing, feeding, taxing, and dying, Jesus places himself squarely in the jaws of imperial politics. And he bites back with imperious force, marshalling followers with a simple, yet sweeping, command to leave everything for the sake of advancing the kingdom of God. As Martin Hengel observes in his classic study of Jesus' leadership, Jesus fits the mold of apocalyptic, charismatic leaders who summon supporters to follow them "very concretely and with an unconditional ultimacy."34 However, Hengel also distinguishes Jesus from such leaders in terms of political engagement. Hengel admits that Jesus' kingdom message, like that of John the Baptist, "could be misunderstood in a political way."35 But Jesus did not set himself forward as a political messiah.<br />While Jesus' precise personal role in the kingdom of God remains ambiguous in the Synoptic Gospels and while Jesus does not call his followers to arms in conventional resistance mode, this study has proposed that a political-economic orientation, far from misunderstanding Jesus' vocation, represents an integral component of it. Jesus' imperious call is also an imperial call. Provocatively and precariously, he uses the talk and tactics of empire to subvert the current regime and to promote a just, alternative order, the empire of God, "on earth, as it is in heaven."<br />[Footnote] 1 See W. J. Reynolds, Companion to Baptist Hymnal (Nashville: Broadman, 1976) 97. 2(1) Matt 4:18-22//Mark 1:16-20; (2) Matt 9:9-13//Mark 2:13-17//Luke 5:27-32; (3) Matt 8:18-22//Luke 9:57-60; (4) Matt 16:24-26//Mark 8:34-37//Luke 9:23-25; (5) Matt 19:16-30//Mark 10:17-31//Luke 18:18-30. 3 Cf. J. P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus. Vol. 3: Companions and Competitors, ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 2001) 72: "Jesus seized the initiative in deciding who would be his disciples. He confronted certain individuals with his imperious command to follow him, a command that brooked no opposition or delay." 4 For a consistent reading of basileia tou theou as "empire of God," see the commentary by W. Carter, Matthew and the Margins: A Sociopolitical and Religious Reading (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2000). 5 While recognizing differences among the respective gospel reports, I assume that the three episodes under investigation reflect basically reliable tradition about the historical Jesus (largely because of their radical, countercultural thrust). My main concern, at any rate, is to probe the literary-narrative and socio-political contexts of these "follow me" accounts. For a thorough discussion of the historicity of the call stories, see Meier, Marginal Jew, 3.40-197. 6 1 Kgs 19:19-21. On Elijah's call of Elisha as a literary model for Mark 1:16-20, see J. Marcus, Mark 1-8: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 27 (New York: Doubleday, 2000) 183-84. 7 See C. Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark's Story of Jesus (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1988) 132. 8 R. A. Horsley and N. A. Silberman, The Message and the Kingdom: How Jesus and Paul Ignited a Revolution and Transformed the Ancient World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997) 25. 9 On various modes of fishing in the Sea of Galilee, see J. J. Rousseau and R. Arav, Jesus and His World: An Archaeological and Cultural Dictionary (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995) 93-97. 10 On the Galilean fishing industry in its Herodian political context, see esp. K. C. Hanson, "The Galilean Fishing Economy and the Jesus Tradition," BTB 27 ( 1997) 99-111 ; K. C. Hanson and D. E. Oakman, Palestine in the Time of Jesus: Social Structures and Social Conflicts (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998) 106-110; M. Sawicki, Crossing Galilee: Architectures of Contact in the Occupied Land of Jesus (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2000) 27-30, 143-47; Horsley and Silberman, Message and the Kingdom, 24-26, 46-47; S. Freyne, "Herodian Economics in Galilee: Searching for a Suitable Model," in Modelling Early Christianity: Social-Scientific Studies of the New Testament in its Context, ed. P. F. Esler (London: Routledge, 1995) 35. 11 The attitudes of Cicero and Terence were typical: "And the most shameful occupations are those which cater to our sensual pleasures: 'fish-sellers, butchers, cooks, poultry-raisers, and fishermen', as Terence says" (On Duties 1:42, cited in Hanson, "Galilean Fishing Economy," 99). 12 On the analogy between the Mediterranean Sea and Sea of Galilee in Herod's worldview, see Sawicki, Crossing Galilee, 27-30; her reference to "the backdrop of Herod's disneyworld, the Mediterraneanized Kinneret [Sea of Galilee)" (p. 185) offers a suggestive modern image. 13 See Juvenal, Satires 4:51-55, "Every rare and beautiful thing in the wide ocean ... belongs to the Imperial Treasury," cited in W. Carter, Matthew and Empire: Initial Explorations (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2001) 141-42. 14 E. Best, Following Jesus: Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark, JSNTSup 4 (Sheffield: (SOT, 1981) 171-72. 15 Meier, Marginal Jew, 3.195 n. 124. 16 See the summary of Jesus' benevolent works of healing and deliverance in Matt 4:23-25, immediately after his calling the fishermen. Specific examples multiply as the narratives of Matthew and Mark develop. 17 On the tax system in first-century Roman Galilee, see R. A. Horsley, Galilee: History, Politics, People (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1995) 59-61, 137-44, 203-221; Hearing the Whole Story: The Politics of Plot in Mark's Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001) 27-51, 112-119; Hanson and Oakman, Palestine, 113-116; Rousseau and Arav, Jesus and His World, 275-79; Freyne, "Herodian Economics." 18 See Josephus, Ant. 18.3-10; R. A. Horsley, Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987) 77-89; R. A. Horsley and J. S. Hanson, Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements at the Time of Jesus (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985) 190-99. 19 Hanson, "Galilean Fishing Economy,' 103. 20 See J. R. Donahue, "Tax Collector," ABD , vol 6, 337-38; D. C. Duling, "Matthew," ABD vol 4,622; Carter, Matthew and the Margins, 217-19; E. P. Sanders, The Historical Figure of Jesus (London: Penguin, 1993) 227-30. 21 Many scholars regard the common sayings tradition in Matthew and Luke (designated "Q" for Quelle, "source") as an early, independent (from Mark) witness to the historical Jesus. 22 Matt 8:19 specifies a ' scribe," whereas Luke 9:57 refers more vaguely to "someone." 23 A regular priest must also avoid defiling contact with dead relatives, "except for his nearest kin: his mother, his father ...'; only the high priest "shall not defile himself even for father or mother" (Lev 21:1-3, 10-11). 24 See Matt 1:1-17; 9:23-26; 11:18-19; Luke 3:23-38; 7:11-17, 33-35; 8:49-56. For a recent suggestion that "a broadly Nazirite symbolism" may inform Jesus' "leave the dead" saying, see M. Bockmuehl, Jewish Law in Gentile Churches: Halakhah and the Beginning of Christian Public Ethics (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2000) 23-48. Bockmuehl bases his case, however, primarily on the Nazirite connotations of Jesus' activity during his final hours (Last Supper vow not to drink the fruit of the vine again; refusal on the cross to drink soldiers' wine), not on his usual conduct throughout his ministry. 25 For an excellent treatment of the nexus between material and social features of burial customs in Roman Palestine, see B. R. McCane, Roll Back the Stone: Death and Burial in the World of Jesus (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International. 20031 1-108. 26 Recent interpretation tilts in favor of treating the first reference metaphorically and the second literally: "Let the spiritually dead bury the physically dead." see M. Hengel, The Charismatic Leader and His Followers, trans. J. Grieg (New York: Crossroad, 1981) 7-8; Sanders, Historical Figure of Jesus, 225-26; Bockmuehl, Jewish Law, 26-27. 27 McCane, Roll Back the Stone, 73-77; "'Let the Dead Bury Their Own Dead': Secondary Burial and Matt 8:21-22," HTR 83 (1990) 31-13. The gathered bones might be placed either in special stone containers (ossuaries) or in designated niches (loculi) in family tombs. 28 "'Let the Dead'," 40. 29 After the death of Herod the Great (4 B.C.E.), for example, the Roman official Varus crucified some two thousand Judean rebels (see Josephus, Ant. 17.295). 30 See the discussion of the disposal of crucifixion victims in J. D. Crossan and J. L. Reed, Excavating Jesus: Beneath the Stones, Behind the Texts (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2001) 245-47; M. Hengel, Crucifixion (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977) 87-88; R. E. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 1994) 1206-1211; McCane, Roll Back the Stone, 89-108. 31 See McCane, Roll Back the Stone, 63-66. 32 On "fox" as an image of "malicious destructiveness" in Luke and the LXX, see J. A. Darr, On Character Building: The Reader and the Rhetoric of Characterization in Luke-Acts (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992) 127-46; idem, Herod the Fox: Audience Criticism and Lukan Characterization, JSNTSup 163) Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998) 173-88; cf. H. W. Hoehner, Herod Antipas, SNTMS 17 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972) 343-47. Foxes were typically associated with scavenging jackals and wild dogs in biblical thought, with the LXX sometimes translating "jackal" with the Greek term for ' fox ' (alopex; e.g. Lam 5:18, describing the ruin of Jerusalem after the Babylonian siege: ". . . because of Mount Zion, which lies desolate; jackals prowl over it"// ". . . foxes [alopekes] walked in it" [LXX]). Cf. Ps 63 [62]: 10; Isa 34:3, 13, 15; 1er 9:10-11, 22; Ezek 13:4; 1 En. 89:10, 42-49, 55. 33 In a twist of tragic irony, Tiberias was actually built on the site of an ancient graveyard or necropolis; see Rousseau and Arav, Jesus and His World, 316-18. 34 Hengel, Charismatic Leader, 57. 35 Ibid., 36.<br />[Author Affiliation] F. Scott Spencer Professor of New Testament Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond<br /></strong></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1116193279815755782004-09-24T14:39:00.000-07:002005-05-15T14:41:19.836-07:00How Jewish is the Gospel of Matthew?<strong><br /><img src="http://www.rc.net/wcc/readings/mattart.jpg"/><br /><br /><br />How Jewish is the Gospel of Matthew?<br /><br />Hare, Douglas R A<br />Bell & Howell Information and Learning: Foreign text omitted. <br /><br />IN THIS ARTICLE I oppose what some have claimed is "the growing consensus" concerning Matthew's social setting, namely, that his gospel was written for a Law-observant Jewish sect that admitted Gentiles to full participation only after they had converted to Judaism. My primary dialogue partners are Anthony Saldarini, Andrew Overman, and Amy-Jill Levine.1 <br /><br />It is generally agreed that the conceptual world of Matthew is primarily Jewish, and that his gospel's intense hostility toward "the scribes and Pharisees" implies a relationship of some kind with formative Judaism. The issue is whether the author and the Christians for whom he writes identify more closely with the synagogue community or with mixed churches of the Diaspora such as the Church of Antioch prior to the arrival of "some from James" (Gal 2:11-14). Or, to put the question in slightly different terms, does Matthew's community expect Gentile converts to become Jewish proselytes?2 <br /><br />I will consider briefly four matters relevant to the debate: (I) the use of arguments based on what is not written in the gospel (the argument from silence, (2) the self-identification of Matthew's community, (3) Matthew's perspective on observance of Torah, and (4) the significance of practices in worship. The theological significance of the debate will then be addressed. <br /><br />1. The Argument from Silence <br /><br />Matthean students dispute whether circumcision was required of Gentiles who wished to be full participants in Matthew's churches. One side insists that the evangelist's failure to mention the need for circumcision is insignificant; we can infer from Matt 5:17-20 that Gentiles were required to keep the whole Law, including the requirement of circumcision.3 Others counter that silence on this issue must be taken seriously, in view of the fact that the Great Commission of 28:18-20, which authorizes the mission to the Gentiles, does not specifically require observance of the Mosaic Law, requiring rather "whatever I commanded you" and calling for baptism instead of circumcision.4 On this and many other related matters, however, Jacob Neusner's valuable aphorism must rule our discussion: "What we cannot show we do not know."5 Any inference we draw regarding circumcision remains uncertain. The gospel's silence must be respected. <br /><br />The same must be said concerning all estimates of the number of Gentiles in the churches for which Matthew writes. Some scholars propose that the Great Commission represents a new departure.b Where is the evidence for this hypothesis? Andrew Overman infers that there are few Gentiles in Matthew's groups, because Gentiles do not play a major role in the gospel.7 This argument is faulty on at least two counts: (1) Gentiles are more prominent in Matthew's gospel than in Mark's, which is usually assigned to the Pauline wing of the church; (2) the First Evangelist, like the Second, is writing a gospel, not a history of the early church. From Luke, who alone is careful to report the circumcision of Jesus, we would not know that in the Acts of the Apostles he would defend the right of Gentiles to admission without circumcision. Matthew's conclusion encourages us to believe that churches of Matthew's persuasion engaged in a mission to Gentiles; he is silent about when this began, how successful it was, and what was expected of Gentile converts. <br /><br />Scholars on both sides agree that the intense invective of Matthew 23 suggests that the author and presumably some of his readers have had extended and negative contact with Pharisaic Judaism. Because this is not a church history, however, we cannot safely conclude that this hostile contact is continuing into the period in which Matthew is completing his gospel. Persecution by the scribes may belong to a past chapter in Matthew's life, or it may not. Nothing in the text permits certainty on this issue. According to the current scholarly consensus, the evangelist was a Jew and many, if not most, of his intended readers were Jews.8 Even when we assume the correctness of this view, no safe inferences may be drawn concerning the relationship between these Christian Jews and the synagogue community. The social control exercised by Pharisaic scribes in certain synagogues in which missionaries were flogged would not prevail everywhere. Paul was able to persist in his controversial ministry for many years without being flogged regularly by local Jewish leaders. We must assume that it was possible for Matthew and his Jewish readers to distance themselves from unfriendly Jews, just as the Jews in Paul's churches did. Whether the persecution alluded to in 10:17-23, 23:34 was continuing or not, we simply do not know.9 <br /><br />James, the brother of Jesus, the great hero of Jewish Christianity, receives scant attention in the First Gospel (13:55).10 Is this significant? Here, perhaps, the argument from silence has more force, since Matthew, in 16:17-19, makes such a point of elevating Peter, the patron saint of the Roman church, to a position far above that which he has in the Gospel of Mark, the gospel traditionally associated with Rome and Peter, while at the same time Matthew abstains from anti-Paulinism.11 Like every argument from silence, however, this one must remain inconclusive. <br /><br />11. Self-identification <br /><br />Donald Hagner proposes that although members of Matthew's community "saw their Christianity as the true fulfillment of Judaism, they were also very conscious that they had broken with their unbelieving brethren," and that "they were struggling to define and defend a Jewish-Christianity to the Jews on the one hand and to realize their identity with gentile Christians on the other."12 Similarly, John Meier suggests that Matthew's church was facing an identity crisis because of internal tension between conservative Jewish members and Gentile members; Matthew's intention was to fashion an "inclusive synthesis."13 I find both these proposals attractive, but how can they be supported from the text, apart from inconclusive arguments from silence? <br /><br />Other scholars maintain that Matthew's community defined itself primarily by its opposition to formative Judaism. Saldarini argues that it was because Matthean Christians had been expelled from the synagogues that they formed their own assembly.14 As far as I know, there is no evidence for such an expulsion.15 Martyn has argued that the three passages in the Fourth Gospel on the danger of becoming aposynagogos (literally, "desynagogued'* (John 9:22; 12:42; 16:2) reflect the use of the Birkat hamminim as a means of detecting and expelling Christians.16 Greater caution is required, however. First, there is no certainty concerning the time when the Twelfth Benediction was added to the Semoneh `esreh, nor do we know when it was adopted in the diverse synagogues of Palestine and the Diaspora, none of which were under any obligation to conform with liturgical modifications originating in Yavneh.17 Second, it is now generally agreed that minim was a term broad enough to include Sadducees and others who disagreed with the positions taken in rabbinic Judaism. For this reason, as Reuven Kimelman and Steven Katz have argued, it would have been possible for Jewish Christians to lead the congregation in the benediction with a clear conscience, regarding others, not themselves, as truly minim.18 <br /><br />It is unlikely, however, that the passages on becoming aposynagogos have anything to do with the Birkat hamminim.19 They clearly anticipate involuntary expulsion from the synagogue, but we are left in uncertainty on several issues. First, can we be sure that they refer to an expulsion that has already taken place rather than one that is merely feared?20 John 16:2 seems to anticipate numerous deaths; our other historical sources do not support the view that this was a prophecy ex eventu.21 It is possible that these texts anticipate a general expulsion that did not in fact take place. Second, it is possible that expulsions had already occurred, but that they affected only outspoken missionaries like Paul, not ordinary Christians.22 <br /><br />In any event, it is not proper to conclude on the basis of these three verses that it became a general policy in all synagogues of Palestine and the Diaspora to excommunicate any and all Christians who continued to worship with their non-Christian families and neighbors. There is no other evidence of such a policy in the New Testament, other early Christian literature, or Tannaitic sources. The most that can legitimately be inferred from the three passages on being aposynagogos is that perhaps some Johannine Christians were excluded, either by formal or informal means, from worshiping in one or more synagogues. Since the verses in question are polemical, it ought not to be assumed without other evidence that a formal act of excommunication is being referred to. Informal shunning, recommended in t. ,Hul. 2.20-21, may have been interpreted by the Fourth Evangelist polemically as expulsion. It seems probable that what the crypto-Christians of John 12:42-43 fear most is not so much exclusion from synagogue worship as socioeconomic shunning.23 <br /><br />Whatever the background and intention of the passages on becoming aposynagogos may be, we ought not to infer from them that the Christians for whom John wrote made the local synagogue the locus of their worship. The implicit ecclesiology of John IS points to the church as the primary gathering of Johannine Christians. This must have been true from the beginning, for Christians everywhere. Exclusion from synagogue worship was probably superfluous in most cases; it is unlikely that Christian Jews continued to participate regularly in synagogue services. The local synagogue was not their spiritual home.24 <br /><br />Critical to the self-identification of Matthew's groups is their use of the term ekklesia ("church," Matt 16:18; 18:17). Saldarini attempts to minimize the significance of the evidence by postulating that Matthew chooses this common Greek word for "assembly" merely to distinguish Christian meetings from those of their Pharisaic opponents.25 In Matt 16:18, however, great emphasis is placed on the fact that the Messiah promised to build a new entity, his assembly (ekklesia) on the rock of Peter. Clearly, Matthew understands ekklesia in this instance as a word referring not simply to the local Christian assembly but to the whole movement. Since Matthew undoubtedly knew that the term had become the standard way of referring to congregations in the Pauline wing of the church, his use of it suggests that the Matthean groups did not rigorously disassociate themselves from Gentile Christianity Saldarini concedes that Matthew's group was part of a network that included Pauline churches.26 <br /><br />Saldarini's use of the sociological concept "master status" is helpful. He writes that "the members of Matthew's group find their core identity and their `master status' in being believers-in-Jesus. All other aspects of their Jewish life and worldview are filtered through this central commitment.."27 He properly insists that this did not extinguish their sense of being Jewish. But could not the same be said of Priscilla, Aquila, and many other Jews in the Pauline churches? They remained Jewish and presumably observed various ritual precepts of the Torah, but their "master status" was Christian. <br /><br />III. Matthew's Perspective on Observance of Torah <br /><br />Those who claim that the First Gospel was written for a Jewish sect argue on the basis of a few verses that Matthew expected strict observance of the Torah on the part of Gentile as well as Jewish members. <br /><br />The primary text is Matt 5:19, "Whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven." This verse is one of a complex of four sayings which together constitute the programmatic introduction to the Sermon on the Mount. The preceding verse, which proclaims the continuing validity of every letter of the Torah, must not be interpreted as one requiring the literal observance of every precept of the Law. Such affirmations of the sanctity of Scripture were accompanied by many departures in practice in all forms of first-century Judaism known to us. Jesus himself is represented a few verses later (5:31-32) "loosing" the provisions for divorce in Deut 24:1. Like modern fundamentalists, ancient Jews and Christians could conscientiously affirm the inspiration and inerrancy of Scripture while at the same time supporting significant departures from its literal requirements by means of interpretation. <br /><br />What, then, is intended by Matt 5:19? It too must be taken as a general statement, not as a requirement of literal observance of all precepts, many of which had long since become dead letters or had been drastically reinterpreted. When we consider the gospel as a whole, it appears unlikely that Matthew expected his readers to be more conservative in interpretation and more rigorous in observance of the ritual requirements of the Torah than even the Pharisees and the people of Qumran. Moreover, it seems probable that Matthew represents Jesus as a person disregarding certain requirements of purity by touching a leper (8:3) and dining with people suspected of uncleanness ("tax collectors and sinners," 9:10).28 Even if Matthew regarded Jesus fully observant of the laws of purity, however, 5:19 does not exclude from the kingdom of heaven those who are not fully observant; such persons will be included even though they are described as "least." This verse, in effect, has a force similar to that of Did. 6:3, "Concerning food, bear what you can."29 Matt 5:19 is best understood as encouraging Torah observance without making full conformity (as Matthew understood it) a sine qua non of membership in the church. <br /><br />A second passage of importance to the argument that Matthew's intended readers are Torah-observant Jews is 23:2-3, "The scribes and Pharisees sit on Moses' seat; therefore, do whatever they say to you and observe it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they say." Whatever the origin of this saying may be, Matthew's context makes it very clear that it does not refer to Pharisaic halakah. The immediately following verses emphasize that "the scribes and Pharisees" are not to be honored as teachers (23:4, 8); Christians are not to obey their teachings (23:16-20).' Mark Powell has recently proposed that w. 2-3 refer not to the teaching authority of the religious leaders but to the public reading or recitation of Torah.31 If Powell's intriguing suggestion is accepted, these verses simply reaffirm what is said in 5:17-48: Matthean Christians are to obey "the whole Law" as it is interpreted by Jesus. In view of the latitude permitted by 5:19 (see above), the exhortation of 23:2-3 cannot be used as evidence of the orthopraxy of Matthew's community. <br /><br />Similarly, 23:23 must not be taken as proof that Matthew and his readers rigorously tithed their garden herbs and expected Gentile converts to do the same. Rather than demanding such observance, the saying radically diminishes the importance of such scrupulous tithing by hyperbolically subordinating it to ethical concerns in the attached saying, "You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel!" (23:24). <br /><br />Finally, 24:20, "Pray that your flight may not be in winter or on a Sabbath," does not constitute evidence that Matthean Christians were more severe sabbatarians than the Pharisees.32 The saying by no means forbids travel in winter or on a Sabbath; it suggests merely that it would be preferable if the flight could occur in more favorable circumstances. Although Matthew encourages Sabbath observance, it must not be forgotten that he elevates Jesus as "lord of the Sabbath" (12:8) and strongly rebukes those whom he considers guilty of extreme sabbatarianism by appealing in 12:7 to Hos 6:6. An evangelist who countenances hauling a sheep out of a pit in violation of the Sabbath (Matt 12:11; not in Mark!) and who reports that Jesus said, "So it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath" ( 12:12) is unlikely to have taken 24:20 as a prohibition of flight on the Sabbath.33 <br /><br />The pericope concerning the temple tax (17:24-27, found only in Matthew) has sometimes been taken as evidence of the Jewishness of the Matthean congregations.34 According to the current scholarly consensus, Matthew's gospel is from the time after n.n. 70 when the tax was paid not to the temple but to the imperial treasury (Josephus B.J. 7.6.6 sec218). Why does Matthew include the pericope? Certainly not as an encouragement to rigorous observance of Torah. The annual half-shekel tax was not clearly prescribed by the Torah (neither Exod 30:11-16 nor Exod 38:25-26, often appealed to, requires an annual tax). The stern rigorists of Qumran understood the Law to require a contribution only once in a lifetime.35 The force of the pericope is that Jesus and his followers do not regard the tax as one binding upon them, but they will pay it "so that we do not give offense to them" (Matt 17:27), with the same verb skandalizo used in 15:12, where Jesus is not at all reluctant about scandalizing the Pharisees. We ought to assume, therefore, that the persons who are not to be scandalized in 17:27 are not the leaders of the synagogue in Matthew's day but ordinary Jews who might perceive failure to pay the fiscus iudaicus as a sign that Christian Jews were renouncing their Jewishness and becoming fully assimilated. This does not constitute an argument in favor of the view that the Gospel of Matthew was addressed to congregations that were almost exclusively Jewish; it constitutes the very reverse. No one would have thought of suggesting that the people of Qumran were assimilating because they refused to pay the temple tax annually. Only if Christian Jews in the Matthean churches were welcoming Gentiles would the charge of assimilation be credible. Whether Matthew expected Gentile members of the Christian community to pay the Jewish tax cannot be determined from this pericope. <br /><br />It should be clear that the key to the self-identification of Matthew's intended audience was not adherence to the ritual requirements of the Torah. There is no basis in the relevant texts for the assumption that Matthean Christians were more assiduous or less assiduous in matters of purity, tithing, and Sabbath observance than other non-Pharisaic Jews. Despite the few passages that appear to support rigorous observance of such precepts (5:19; 23:23), there is overwhelming evidence in Matthew's gospel that the ritual requirements have been firmly subordinated to the moral law (as was undoubtedly true of many non-Christian Jews as well). This is especially clear in 15:1-20. Scholars tend to exaggerate the significance of Matthew's omission of Mark 7:19b ("cleansing all foods"). Even without this comment, the impact of the verse is the same: Jesus is represented in Matt 15:11 as a person declaring that food does not defile. It is Matthew, not Mark, who draws attention to the astounding implications of Jesus' statement by having the disciples report that the Pharisees were scandalized by the saying ( 15:12).37 <br /><br />Amy-Jill Levine is confident that Matthew's church was predominantly Jewish, yet she concedes that its members would think of themselves as neither "Jew" nor "Gentile," for in the "new era of the ekklesia" those terms were "no longer operative"; she concludes that "the church is neither the new Israel nor the true Israel" and that "the new era belongs not to Israel at all, but to the ekklesia. "38 <br /><br />IV The Significance of Practices in Worship <br /><br />It is erroneous to describe Matthew's church as a Jewish sect that differs from other Jewish groups only by proclaiming that Jesus was the Messiah. Although Matthew's christology lacks the sophisticated incarnationism of the Fourth Gospel, it far outstrips other forms of Jewish messianism. The Matthean Jesus, who claims a future place at God's right hand (26:64; cf. 22:44), declares that all authority in heaven as well as on earth has been conferred on him (28:18). In 11:27 Jesus announces that no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son reveals him. Matt 24:31 promises that at the parousia Jesus will send out his angels (cf. 16:27). Matthew presents Jesus as a person replacing the temple as the place where sin is removed (1:21; 9:6; 12:6; 20:28; 26:28).39 <br /><br />It has been proposed that such outlandish ideas may well have been perceived by other Jews as simply crazy, not as evidence of apostasy. What other scholars and I have ignored, however, is that these outlandish ideas probably arose in connection with the early Christian worship of Jesus. Credit must be given particularly to Bauckham, France, and Hurtado for drawing attention to this neglected factor.' Hurtado argues convincingly that this strange challenge to traditional Jewish monotheism arose not in Gentile Christianity but in the Aramaic-speaking Palestinian church prior to Paul's conversion. <br /><br />Matthew, whose gospel is the most Jewish gospel, makes no attempt to oppose this practice. Indeed, there is more support for worship of Jesus here than in Mark or Luke. Although the verb proskyneo can mean simply "pay homage to" and is so used in several Matthean passages (e.g., 8:2), there are three instances in which it seems to have the meaning "worship," with Jesus as object (14:33; 28:9, 17). Luke uses the verb only once with reference to worship of Jesus (24:52),4 and Mark not at all. It is striking that both Matthew (in 4:10) and Luke (in 4:8) make the tension with traditional Jewish monotheism explicit by citing Deut 6:13, "You shall worship (proskyneseis) the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve." <br /><br />It is only Matthew who reports the command of the risen Christ that new followers be baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Whatever the force of the phrase "in the name of" may be, it is significant that Jesus is placed between the Father and the Holy Spirit. Gundry observes that such a high christology "is almost bound to have fixed a great gulf between Matthew's community and Judaism."42 <br /><br />Further evidence that Jesus was the object of worship in the Matthean churches can be seen in the two passages in which his continuing presence is promised (18:20, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them," and 28:20, "I am with you always, to the end of the age"). Echoes can be heard here not only of passages in the Hebrew Scriptures in which God promises to be with Israel or one of its representatives (e.g., Isa 41:10; 43:5) but also of the passage on Emmanuel (cited in Matt 1:23). In these passages Jesus is represented not merely as a human Messiah who now waits in heaven until he returns to reign but rather as a suprahuman being who shares with God the capability of being omnipresent. Exegesis of 18:20 disposed Gunther Bornkamm, who earlier described Matthew's conflict with the synagogue as a conflict intra muros, to publish a different opinion in 1970: "The church, although still very small, knows itself to be cut off from the Jewish community; gathered no longer around the Torah, but in the name of Jesus, in faith in him and in confession of him, and as such to be assured of his presence."43 <br /><br />Hurtado is fully justified in suggesting that early Christian worship of Jesus constituted a significant "mutation" in the monotheistic tradition of Judaism.' In our efforts to evaluate the Jewishness of the First Gospel, this factor must not be ignored or underrated. <br /><br />V The Theological Significance of the Jewishness of Matthew <br /><br />Underlying the passionate debate regarding the Jewishness of Matthew is the issue of anti-Semitism. Saldarini observes that Matthew has become "an embarrassment for Christians well disposed toward Judaism because of the way his polemics against his contemporaries have been used against the Jews" and expresses the hope that his book will relieve this embarrassment by demonstrating that Matthew's polemic is not anti-Jewish but anti-Pharisaic; the reflection of a conflict within Israel!5 Similarly, Harrington warns that "without attention to its historical setting Matthew becomes a dangerous text, capable of giving encouragement to anti-Semites."46 Like Saldarini, Harrington believes that the First Gospel is best protected from such horrible misuse by treating Matthew's church as a group within Judaism." <br /><br />I heartily agree with Saldarini, Harrington, and others about the need to defuse the anti-Semitic threat presented by Matthew's rhetoric. Like them, I regard the author of the gospel as a Jew who vehemently opposed other Jews, especially those sympathetic to the Pharisaic movement, because they rejected the message about Jesus. I part company with Saldarini, Harrington, and others by seeing in this gospel evidence that for Matthew and his intended audience the parting of the ways had already taken place. One who holds this position by no means assumes that there were no further contacts between Matthean Jews and non-Christian Jews, or that conversions of individual Jews were no longer sought. It is a matter of emphasis. Because of the failure of Matthew's Christian Jews to win many Jewish converts (the unifying theme of the missionary chapter, Matthew 10, is pessimism concerning the mission to the lost sheep of the house of Israel), Matthew believes that the church's future is intimately bound up with the mission to the Gentiles. By dissociating himself from unbelieving Jews (28:15) and associating himself with believing Gentiles (24:14; 28:19), Matthew stakes out a middle ground between Jews and pagans (21:43). <br /><br />In the continuing battle against anti-Semitism it may or may not be helpful to remind modern readers that Matthew's anti-Judaism is of Jewish, not Gentile, origin. I am not convinced, however, that the case is strengthened by insisting, as Saldarini does, that Matthew's group is simply a deviant sect within Judaism. In any event, regardless of Matthew's social setting, modern anti-Semitism must be countered with stronger ammunition. The most effective deterrent to Christian anti-Semitism remains sound teaching about the faithfulness of God revealed in the Hebrew Scriptures and in Romans 9-11.'a <br /><br />VI. Conclusions <br /><br />In this article I have attempted to demonstrate that the hypothesis that Matthew was written for a Law-observant Jewish sect whose members expected interested Gentiles to become Jewish proselytes is not securely founded. The argument from silence is ineffectual. Those few verses that seem to require strict conformity with the ritual requirements of the Torah can be understood in a very different way; they do not validate the hypothesis. <br /><br />On the other hand, I cannot claim that I have proved the correctness of the opposing hypothesis, namely, that the First Gospel was addressed to mixed churches in which observant Jews accepted Gentile believers as brothers and sisters in Christ without requiring them to observe the ritual requirements of the Torah. (I assume that some Gentiles adopted various Jewish practices, such as Sabbath observance, without feeling bound to full compliance.) While I am still disposed to use this as my working hypothesis, I must acknowledge that it is not as clearly validated by the text as I once thought. <br /><br />In any event, those on both sides of this debate can agree that for Matthean Christians Jesus has replaced Torah as the key to a right relationship with the God of Israel. <br /><br />1 A. J. Saldarini, Matthew's Christian-Jewish Community (CSHJ; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994); J. A. Overman, Matthew's Gospel and Formative Judaism: The Social World of the Matthean Community (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990); A.-J. Levine, The Social and Ethnic Dimensions of Matthean Salvation History (Studies in the Bible and Early Christianity 14; Lewiston/Queenstown/Lampeter: Mellen, 1988). <br /><br />2 Proposed by Saldarini (Matthew's Christian-Jewish Community, 199). Levine (Social and Ethnic Dimensions, 78) suggests that "Matthew likely expected gentile members of the new community to conform to Jewish halakhah." <br /><br />3 Saldarini, Matthew's Christian-Jewish Community, 157; Levine, Social and Ethnic Dimensions, 178-85; L. M. White, "Crisis Management and Boundary Maintenance: The Social Location of the Matthean Community, in Social History of the Matthean Community: Crossdisciplinary Approaches (ed. D. L. Balch; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991) 242 n. 100; R. Mohrlang, Matthew and PauL A Comparison of Ethical Perspectives (SNTSMS 48; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984) 44-45; D. S. Sim, "The Gospel of Matthew and the Gentiles," JSNT 57 (1995) 45. <br /><br />4 John P Meier, The Vision of Matthew: Christ, Church, and Morality in the First Gospel (New York: Paulist Press, 1979) 13, 213; W D. Davies and D. C. Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to St. Matthew (3 vols.; ICC; Edinburgh: T & T. Clark, 1988-97) 1. 493; R. H. Gundry, A Responsive Evaluation of the Social History of the Matthean Community in Roman Syria," in Social History (ed. Belch) 66 n. 21. <br /><br />5 J. Neusner, "Preface," in Judaisms and Their Messiahs at the TI<br /><br />6 For example, U. Luz, Matthew I-7 (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989) 84; D. J. Harrington, The Gospel of Matthew (SacPag 1; Collegeville: Liturgical Press/ Michael Glazier, 1991 ) 416. In D. R. A. Hare, The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians in the Gospel according to St. Matthew (SNTSMS 6; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967) I was inclined to this view; see especially pp. 127-28. <br /><br />7 Overman, Matthew's Gospel and Formative Judaism, 157. <br /><br />8 G. N. Stanton ("The Origin and Purpose of Matthew's Gospel: Matthean Scholarship from 1945 to 1980," ANRW 2: Principal, 25/ 3. 1916-21) reviews the arguments for and against the hypothesis that the final redactor of the First Gospel was a Gentile and concludes that the evidence suggests that the author was a Jew. In Hare, Theme of Jewish Persecution, 165 I have argued for Jewish authorship on the basis of the intensity of Matthew's anti-Pharisaism. <br /><br />9 In Hare, Theme of Jewish Persecution, 127 I argued that Matthew looks back on the persecution from a vantage point outside the synagogue community. I have not changed my opinion, but I recognize that the evidence is not as clear as I thought. <br /><br />10 For James's role, see H. J. Schoeps, Jewish Christianity: Factional Disputes in the Early Church (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1969) 38-46. <br /><br />11 G. Luedemann, Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989) does not include the Gospel of Matthew among Jewish-Christian texts opposed to Paul. <br /><br />12 D. A. Hagner, "The Sitz im Leben of the Gospel of Matthew," SBLSP 1985, 257. <br /><br />13 In R. E. Brown and J. P Meier, Antioch and Rome: New Testament Cradles of Catholic Christianity (New York: Paulist Press, 1983) 51. <br /><br />14 Saldarini, Matthew's Christian-Jewish Community, 121; cf. 112. <br /><br />15 I examined the available evidence in Hare, Theme of Jewish Persecution, 48-56, 125. See also G. Forkman, The Limits of the Religious Community: Expulsion from the Religious Community within the Qumran Sect, within Rabbinic Judaism, and within Primitive Christianity (ConBNT 5; Lund: Gleerup, 1972) 87-105. <br /><br />16 J. Louis Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (2d ed.; Nashville: Abingdon, 1979) 37-62. Forkman (Limits of the Religious Community, 105) also argues that these three passages point to the Birkat hamminim. <br /><br />17 For a helpful review of the evidence and the scholarly discussion of it, see S. T. Katz, "Issues in the Separation of Judaism and Christianity after 70 c.e.: A Reconsideration," JBL 103 (1984) 63-76; also J. T. Sanders, Schismatics, Sectarians, Dissidents, Deviants: The First One Hundred Years of Jewish-Christian Relations (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity 1993) 58-61. Sanders suggests that had the Twelfth Benediction been in use in Luke's day, he would surely have mentioned it in Acts. <br /><br />18 R. Kimelman, "Birkat Ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity," in Jewish and Christian Self Definition 2: Aspects of Judaism in the Greco-Roman Period (ed. E. P Sanders, A. I. Baumgarten, and A. Mendelson; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981) 227; Katz, "Issues," 74. I concur with G. Stanton, A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1993) 142, that the Birkat hamminim has been a red herring in both Matthean and Johannine scholarship. <br /><br />19 Cf. K, Wengst, Bedrdtngte Gemeinde and verherrlichter Christus: Ein Versuch fiber das Johannesevangelium (3d ed.; Munich: Kaiser, 1990) 89-104, esp. 100. <br /><br />20 Kimelman ("Birkat Ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence," 234-35) suggests that the passages on becoming aposynagogos were created in order to persuade Christians to stay away from the synagogue. <br /><br />21 See Hare, Theme of Jewish Persecution, 20-43. Wengst (Bedriingte Gemeinde, 85) opposes the position I took; on p. 88 he concludes that the reference in John 16:2 is probably to incidents of lynching. <br /><br />22 p. F Segal ("Matthew's Jewish Voice," in Social History [ed. Balch] 34) suggests that the verses on being aposynagogos refer not to any rabbinic program but to "popular expressions of dislike" used by people who found a "way of dealing with a bunch of disruptive Christians wishing to missionize Jews when they were praying in synagogue." <br /><br />23 Cf. Wengst, Bedriingte Gemeinde, 101, 104. <br /><br />24 Cf. Hagner, "The Sitz im Leben," 265: Jewish Christians had to some degree broken with the synagogue as soon as they came into existence." Scholars who assume that Matthean Jews persisted in synagogue worship appear to ignore the fact that members of another Jewish sect, that of Qumran, had their own assemblies and regarded other Jews as apostate. <br /><br />25 Saldarini, Matthew's Christian-Jewish Community, 116-23. <br /><br />26 Ibid., 87, 123, 202. <br /><br />27 Ibid., 112-13. In n. 116 he defines the concept "master status": it "denotes a primary trait of a person to which all others are subordinate." <br /><br />28 The Torah's regulations concerning leprosy (Leviticus 13-14) do not explicitly prohibit such contact, but the requirement that the leper warn others with the cry "unclean, unclean" (Lev 13:45) surely implies that contact is to be avoided; cf. Luke 17:12. Jesus' lack of concern about personal purity must have offended the Pharisees and others who were striving to win greater compliance with the code of purity. <br /><br />29 In this connection it should be remembered that the Didache, which seems to echo Matthew at a number of points, is addressed not to Jews but "to the Gentiles." <br /><br />30 Overman, Matthew's Gospel and Formative Judaism, 145, concedes that the literary context shows that w. 2-3 do not constitute an endorsement of the scribes and Pharisees, yet he maintains that Matthew is telling his readers to do whatever the scribes and Pharisees tell them to do. <br /><br />31 M. A. Powell, "Do and Keep What Moses Says (Matthew 23:2-7)," JBL 114 (1995) 419-35, esp. 431. <br /><br />32 An excellent survey of scholarly views of this verse is provided by Stanton, Gospel for a New People, 192-206. He sides with those who propose that flight on the Sabbath would provoke persecution. <br /><br />33 C. E. Carlston, "The Things That Defile (Mark vii. 14) and the Law in Matthew and Mark," NTS 15 (1968-69) 87, notes that Matthew's omission of Mark 2:27, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath," cannot be construed as evidence of rigorous sabbatarianism, since the same verse is omitted by Luke. He argues that by including "So it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath" Matthew demonstrates that he stands in a relationship to Sabbath observance very different from that of the rabbis. <br /><br />34 E.g., by Saldarini, Matthew's Christian-Jewish Community, 145. <br /><br />35 Ibid., 143 with n. 90, for the evidence from Qumran. <br /><br />36 Cf. Carlton, "Things That Defile," 88; T L. Donaldson, "The Law That Hangs (Matthew 22:40): Rabbinic Formulation and Matthean Social World, CBQ 57 (1995) 693. <br /><br />37 Carlston ("Things That Defile," 95) correctly observes that in view of early Christian disputes over the laws of purity it is improbable that Jesus expressed himself on the issue so unambiguously. This makes it all the more significant that Matthew not only retains Mark's statement that food does not defile but underlines its importance by adding v. 12. <br /><br />38 Levine, Social and Ethnic Dimensions, 10-11. I drew the same conclusion in Hare, Theme of Jewish Persecution, 157. <br /><br />39 See W R. Stegner, "Breaking Away: The Conflict with Formative Judaism," BR 40 (1955) 24-27. <br /><br />40 R. Bauckham, -The Worship of Jesus in Apocalyptic Christianity " NTS 27 (1981) 322-41; R. T France, "The Worship of Jesus: A Neglected Factor in Christological Debate?" in Christ the Lord: Studies in Christology Presented to Donald Guthrie (ed. H. H. Rowdon; Leicester/ Downer's Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1982) 17-36; L. W Hurtado, One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1988). See also M. A. Powell, "A Typology of Worship in the Gospel of Matthew," JSNT 57 ( 1995) 3-17, esp. 14. <br /><br />41 The reading is textually dubious, however, and is given only a D rating in the UBSGNT; Codex Bezae, various Mss of the Itala, the Sinaitic Syriac, and Augustine omit the verb. <br /><br />42 Gundry, "Responsive Evaluation," 64. <br /><br />43 G. Bornkamm, "The Authority to `Bind' and `Loose' in the Church in Matthew's Gospel: The Problem of Sources in Matthew's Gospel," in Jesus and Man's Hope (2 vols.; Pittsburgh Festival on the Gospels, 1970; Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, 1970-71) 1. 41. For his earlier position, see G. Bornkamm, "End-Expectation and Church in Matthew," in G. Bornkamm, G. Barth, and H.-J. Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew (NTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1963') 22, 39. I owe these references to Stanton, "Origins and Purpose," 1912, i914. <br /><br />44 Hurtado, One God, One Lord, 99. Here, I do not address Matthew's narrative of the Last Supper, since it does not clearly present evidence of the worship of Jesus. Nonetheless, it must surely be regarded as a radical "mutation of an important Jewish practice, the Passover seder. <br /><br />45 Saldarini, Matthew's Christian-Jewish Community, 203. <br /><br />46 Harrington, Gospel of Matthew, 22. <br /><br />47 Ibid., 21. <br /><br />48 R.K. Soulen (The God of Isreal and Christian Theology [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996]0 challenges the spersessionism that has vitiated the Christian perception of God's relationship to Isreal. <br /><br />DOUGLAS R. A. HARE <br /><br />44 Hall Quarry Road <br /><br />Mount Desert, ME 04660 <br /><br />Copyright Catholic Biblical Association of America Apr 2000<br />Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved<br /><br />FindArticles > Catholic Biblical Quarterly, The > Apr 2000 > Article ></strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1115892575678142822004-08-19T14:50:00.000-07:002005-05-12T03:09:35.696-07:00Judgment on Jerusalems Prostitution: Ezekiel 16:35-63<img src="http://www.oldworldartisans.com/images/Web%20Pages/Page%204/The_prophet_Ezekiel_by_Michelangelo.jpg"/><br /><br />Judgment on Jerusalem's Prostitution<br />Ezekiel 16:35-63<br /><br /><br /> 35"Therefore, you prostitute, listen to this message from the LORD! 36This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Because you have exposed yourself in prostitution to all your lovers, and because you have worshiped detestable idols, and because you have slaughtered your children as sacrifices to your gods, 37this is what I am going to do. I will gather together all your allies--these lovers of yours with whom you have sinned, both those you loved and those you hated--and I will strip you naked in front of them so they can stare at you. 38I will punish you for your murder and adultery. I will cover you with blood in my jealous fury. 39Then I will give you to your lovers--these many nations--and they will destroy you. They will knock down your pagan shrines and the altars to your idols. They will strip you and take your beautiful jewels, leaving you completely naked and ashamed. 40They will band together in a mob to stone you and run you through with swords. 41They will burn your homes and punish you in front of many women. I will see to it that you stop your prostitution and end your payments to your many lovers.<br /> 42"Then at last my fury against you will be spent, and my jealous anger will subside. I will be calm and will not be angry with you anymore. 43But first, because you have not remembered your youth but have angered me by doing all these evil things, I will fully repay you for all of your sins, says the Sovereign LORD. For to all your disgusting sins, you have added these lewd acts. 44Everyone who makes up proverbs will say of you, `Like mother, like daughter.' 45For your mother loathed her husband and her children, and so do you. And you are exactly like your sisters, for they despised their husbands and their children. Truly your mother must have been a Hittite and your father an Amorite.<br /><br /> 46"Your older sister was Samaria, who lived with her daughters in the north. Your younger sister was Sodom, who lived with her daughters in the south. 47But you have not merely sinned as they did--no, that was nothing to you. In a very short time you far surpassed them! 48As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, Sodom and her daughters were never as wicked as you and your daughters. 49Sodom's sins were pride, laziness, and gluttony, while the poor and needy suffered outside her door. 50She was proud and did loathsome things, so I wiped her out, as you have seen.<br /><br /> 51"Even Samaria did not commit half your sins. You have done far more loathsome things than your sisters ever did. They seem righteous compared to you! 52You should be deeply ashamed because your sins are so terrible. In comparison, you make your sisters seem innocent!<br /><br /> 53"But someday I will restore the fortunes of Sodom and Samaria, and I will restore you, too. 54Then you will be truly ashamed of everything you have done, for your sins make them feel good in comparison. 55Yes, your sisters, Sodom and Samaria, and all their people will be restored, and at that time you also will be restored. 56In your proud days you held Sodom in contempt. 57But now your greater wickedness has been exposed to all the world, and you are the one who is scorned--by Edom[b] and all her neighbors and by Philistia. 58This is your punishment for all your disgusting sins, says the LORD.<br /><br /> 59"Now this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I will give you what you deserve, for you have taken your solemn vows lightly by breaking your covenant. 60Yet I will keep the covenant I made with you when you were young, and I will establish an everlasting covenant with you. 61Then you will remember with shame all the evil you have done. I will make your sisters, Samaria and Sodom, to be your daughters, even though they are not part of our covenant. 62And I will reaffirm my covenant with you, and you will know that I am the LORD. 63You will remember your sins and cover your mouth in silence and shame when I forgive you of all that you have done, says the Sovereign LORD."<br /><br /> <br /><br />Footnotes:<br /><br /><br />Ezekiel 16:57 Many ancient manuscripts read Aram.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1114916244956022622004-07-12T19:56:00.000-07:002005-04-30T19:57:24.970-07:00Psalm 119Psalm 119<br /> 1 Happy are people of integrity,[<a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%20119;&version=51;#fen-NLT-15879a">a</a>] who follow the law of the LORD.<br /> 2 Happy are those who obey his decrees and search for him with all their hearts.<br /> 3 They do not compromise with evil, and they walk only in his paths.<br /> 4 You have charged us to keep your commandments carefully.<br /> 5 Oh, that my actions would consistently reflect your principles!<br /> 6 Then I will not be disgraced when I compare my life with your commands.<br /> 7 When I learn your righteous laws, I will thank you by living as I should!<br /> 8 I will obey your principles. Please don't give up on me!<br /> 9 How can a young person stay pure? By obeying your word and following its rules.<br /> 10 I have tried my best to find you-- don't let me wander from your commands.<br /> 11 I have hidden your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.<br /> 12 Blessed are you, O LORD; teach me your principles.<br /> 13 I have recited aloud all the laws you have given us.<br /> 14 I have rejoiced in your decrees as much as in riches.<br /> 15 I will study your commandments and reflect on your ways.<br /> 16 I will delight in your principles and not forget your word.<br /> 17 Be good to your servant, that I may live and obey your word.<br /> 18 Open my eyes to see the wonderful truths in your law.<br /> 19 I am but a foreigner here on earth; I need the guidance of your commands. Don't hide them from me!<br /> 20 I am overwhelmed continually with a desire for your laws.<br /> 21 You rebuke those cursed proud ones who wander from your commands.<br /> 22 Don't let them scorn and insult me, for I have obeyed your decrees.<br /> 23 Even princes sit and speak against me, but I will meditate on your principles.<br /> 24 Your decrees please me; they give me wise advice.<br /> 25 I lie in the dust, completely discouraged; revive me by your word.<br /> 26 I told you my plans, and you answered. Now teach me your principles.<br /> 27 Help me understand the meaning of your commandments, and I will meditate on your wonderful miracles.<br /> 28 I weep with grief; encourage me by your word.<br /> 29 Keep me from lying to myself; give me the privilege of knowing your law.<br /> 30 I have chosen to be faithful; I have determined to live by your laws.<br /> 31 I cling to your decrees. LORD, don't let me be put to shame!<br /> 32 If you will help me, I will run to follow your commands.<br /> 33 Teach me, O LORD, to follow every one of your principles.<br /> 34 Give me understanding and I will obey your law; I will put it into practice with all my heart.<br /> 35 Make me walk along the path of your commands, for that is where my happiness is found.<br /> 36 Give me an eagerness for your decrees; do not inflict me with love for money!<br /> 37 Turn my eyes from worthless things, and give me life through your word.[<a title="See footnote b" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%20119;&version=51;#fen-NLT-15915b">b</a>]<br /> 38 Reassure me of your promise, which is for those who honor you.<br /> 39 Help me abandon my shameful ways; your laws are all I want in life.<br /> 40 I long to obey your commandments! Renew my life with your goodness.<br /> 41 LORD, give to me your unfailing love, the salvation that you promised me.<br /> 42 Then I will have an answer for those who taunt me, for I trust in your word.<br /> 43 Do not snatch your word of truth from me, for my only hope is in your laws.<br /> 44 I will keep on obeying your law forever and forever.<br /> 45 I will walk in freedom, for I have devoted myself to your commandments.<br /> 46 I will speak to kings about your decrees, and I will not be ashamed.<br /> 47 How I delight in your commands! How I love them!<br /> 48 I honor and love your commands. I meditate on your principles.<br /> 49 Remember your promise to me, for it is my only hope.<br /> 50 Your promise revives me; it comforts me in all my troubles.<br /> 51 The proud hold me in utter contempt, but I do not turn away from your law.<br /> 52 I meditate on your age-old laws; O LORD, they comfort me.<br /> 53 I am furious with the wicked, those who reject your law.<br /> 54 Your principles have been the music of my life throughout the years of my pilgrimage.<br /> 55 I reflect at night on who you are, O LORD, and I obey your law because of this.<br /> 56 This is my happy way of life: obeying your commandments.<br /> 57 LORD, you are mine! I promise to obey your words!<br /> 58 With all my heart I want your blessings. Be merciful just as you promised.<br /> 59 I pondered the direction of my life, and I turned to follow your statutes.<br /> 60 I will hurry, without lingering, to obey your commands.<br /> 61 Evil people try to drag me into sin, but I am firmly anchored to your law.<br /> 62 At midnight I rise to thank you for your just laws.<br /> 63 Anyone who fears you is my friend-- anyone who obeys your commandments.<br /> 64 O LORD, the earth is full of your unfailing love; teach me your principles.<br /> 65 You have done many good things for me, LORD, just as you promised.<br /> 66 I believe in your commands; now teach me good judgment and knowledge.<br /> 67 I used to wander off until you disciplined me; but now I closely follow your word.<br /> 68 You are good and do only good; teach me your principles.<br /> 69 Arrogant people have made up lies about me, but in truth I obey your commandments with all my heart.<br /> 70 Their hearts are dull and stupid, but I delight in your law.<br /> 71 The suffering you sent was good for me, for it taught me to pay attention to your principles.<br /> 72 Your law is more valuable to me than millions in gold and silver!<br /> 73 You made me; you created me. Now give me the sense to follow your commands.<br /> 74 May all who fear you find in me a cause for joy, for I have put my hope in your word.<br /> 75 I know, O LORD, that your decisions are fair; you disciplined me because I needed it.<br /> 76 Now let your unfailing love comfort me, just as you promised me, your servant.<br /> 77 Surround me with your tender mercies so I may live, for your law is my delight.<br /> 78 Bring disgrace upon the arrogant people who lied about me; meanwhile, I will concentrate on your commandments.<br /> 79 Let me be reconciled with all who fear you and know your decrees.<br /> 80 May I be blameless in keeping your principles; then I will never have to be ashamed.<br /> 81 I faint with longing for your salvation; but I have put my hope in your word.<br /> 82 My eyes are straining to see your promises come true. When will you comfort me?<br /> 83 I am shriveled like a wineskin in the smoke, exhausted with waiting. But I cling to your principles and obey them.<br /> 84 How long must I wait? When will you punish those who persecute me?<br /> 85 These arrogant people who hate your law have dug deep pits for me to fall into.<br /> 86 All your commands are trustworthy. Protect me from those who hunt me down without cause.<br /> 87 They almost finished me off, but I refused to abandon your commandments.<br /> 88 In your unfailing love, spare my life; then I can continue to obey your decrees.<br /> 89 Forever, O LORD, your word stands firm in heaven.<br /> 90 Your faithfulness extends to every generation, as enduring as the earth you created.<br /> 91 Your laws remain true today, for everything serves your plans.<br /> 92 If your law hadn't sustained me with joy, I would have died in my misery.<br /> 93 I will never forget your commandments, for you have used them to restore my joy and health.<br /> 94 I am yours; save me! For I have applied myself to obey your commandments.<br /> 95 Though the wicked hide along the way to kill me, I will quietly keep my mind on your decrees.<br /> 96 Even perfection has its limits, but your commands have no limit.<br /> 97 Oh, how I love your law! I think about it all day long.<br /> 98 Your commands make me wiser than my enemies, for your commands are my constant guide.<br /> 99 Yes, I have more insight than my teachers, for I am always thinking of your decrees.<br /> 100 I am even wiser than my elders, for I have kept your commandments.<br /> 101 I have refused to walk on any path of evil, that I may remain obedient to your word.<br /> 102 I haven't turned away from your laws, for you have taught me well.<br /> 103 How sweet are your words to my taste; they are sweeter than honey.<br /> 104 Your commandments give me understanding; no wonder I hate every false way of life.<br /> 105 Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light for my path.<br /> 106 I've promised it once, and I'll promise again: I will obey your wonderful laws.<br /> 107 I have suffered much, O LORD; restore my life again, just as you promised.<br /> 108 LORD, accept my grateful thanks and teach me your laws.<br /> 109 My life constantly hangs in the balance, but I will not stop obeying your law.<br /> 110 The wicked have set their traps for me along your path, but I will not turn from your commandments.<br /> 111 Your decrees are my treasure; they are truly my heart's delight.<br /> 112 I am determined to keep your principles, even forever, to the very end.<br /> 113 I hate those who are undecided about you, but my choice is clear--I love your law.<br /> 114 You are my refuge and my shield; your word is my only source of hope.<br /> 115 Get out of my life, you evil-minded people, for I intend to obey the commands of my God.<br /> 116 LORD, sustain me as you promised, that I may live! Do not let my hope be crushed.<br /> 117 Sustain me, and I will be saved; then I will meditate on your principles continually.<br /> 118 But you have rejected all who stray from your principles. They are only fooling themselves.<br /> 119 All the wicked of the earth are the scum you skim off; no wonder I love to obey your decrees!<br /> 120 I tremble in fear of you; I fear your judgments.<br /> 121 Don't leave me to the mercy of my enemies, for I have done what is just and right.<br /> 122 Please guarantee a blessing for me. Don't let those who are arrogant oppress me!<br /> 123 My eyes strain to see your deliverance, to see the truth of your promise fulfilled.<br /> 124 I am your servant; deal with me in unfailing love, and teach me your principles.<br /> 125 Give discernment to me, your servant; then I will understand your decrees.<br /> 126 LORD, it is time for you to act, for these evil people have broken your law.<br /> 127 Truly, I love your commands more than gold, even the finest gold.<br /> 128 Truly, each of your commandments is right. That is why I hate every false way.<br /> 129 Your decrees are wonderful. No wonder I obey them!<br /> 130 As your words are taught, they give light; even the simple can understand them.<br /> 131 I open my mouth, panting expectantly, longing for your commands.<br /> 132 Come and show me your mercy, as you do for all who love your name.<br /> 133 Guide my steps by your word, so I will not be overcome by any evil.<br /> 134 Rescue me from the oppression of evil people; then I can obey your commandments.<br /> 135 Look down on me with love; teach me all your principles.<br /> 136 Rivers of tears gush from my eyes because people disobey your law.<br /> 137 O LORD, you are righteous, and your decisions are fair.<br /> 138 Your decrees are perfect; they are entirely worthy of our trust.<br /> 139 I am overwhelmed with rage, for my enemies have disregarded your words.<br /> 140 Your promises have been thoroughly tested; that is why I love them so much.<br /> 141 I am insignificant and despised, but I don't forget your commandments.<br /> 142 Your justice is eternal, and your law is perfectly true.<br /> 143 As pressure and stress bear down on me, I find joy in your commands.<br /> 144 Your decrees are always fair; help me to understand them, that I may live.<br /> 145 I pray with all my heart; answer me, LORD! I will obey your principles.<br /> 146 I cry out to you; save me, that I may obey your decrees.<br /> 147 I rise early, before the sun is up; I cry out for help and put my hope in your words.<br /> 148 I stay awake through the night, thinking about your promise.<br /> 149 In your faithful love, O LORD, hear my cry; in your justice, save my life.<br /> 150 Those lawless people are coming near to attack me; they live far from your law.<br /> 151 But you are near, O LORD, and all your commands are true.<br /> 152 I have known from my earliest days that your decrees never change.<br /> 153 Look down upon my sorrows and rescue me, for I have not forgotten your law.<br /> 154 Argue my case; take my side! Protect my life as you promised.<br /> 155 The wicked are far from salvation, for they do not bother with your principles.<br /> 156 LORD, how great is your mercy; in your justice, give me back my life.<br /> 157 Many persecute and trouble me, yet I have not swerved from your decrees.<br /> 158 I hate these traitors because they care nothing for your word.<br /> 159 See how I love your commandments, LORD. Give back my life because of your unfailing love.<br /> 160 All your words are true; all your just laws will stand forever.<br /> 161 Powerful people harass me without cause, but my heart trembles only at your word.<br /> 162 I rejoice in your word like one who finds a great treasure.<br /> 163 I hate and abhor all falsehood, but I love your law.<br /> 164 I will praise you seven times a day because all your laws are just.<br /> 165 Those who love your law have great peace and do not stumble.<br /> 166 I long for your salvation, LORD, so I have obeyed your commands.<br /> 167 I have obeyed your decrees, and I love them very much.<br /> 168 Yes, I obey your commandments and decrees, because you know everything I do.<br /> 169 O LORD, listen to my cry; give me the discerning mind you promised.<br /> 170 Listen to my prayer; rescue me as you promised.<br /> 171 Let my lips burst forth with praise, for you have taught me your principles.<br /> 172 Let my tongue sing about your word, for all your commands are right.<br /> 173 Stand ready to help me, for I have chosen to follow your commandments.<br /> 174 O LORD, I have longed for your salvation, and your law is my delight.<br /> 175 Let me live so I can praise you, and may your laws sustain me.<br /> 176 I have wandered away like a lost sheep; come and find me, for I have not forgotten your commands.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1114913972579730172004-06-04T18:26:00.000-07:002005-05-08T21:33:56.876-07:00Solomon's Most Wonderful Song - Song of Songs 1:1-8:14<img src="http://www.highromance.com/poetry/jbtrott/misc/purity_and_pomegranates_files/image003.jpg" /><br /><br /><strong>Song of Solomon 1<br />1 This is Solomon's song of songs, more wonderful than any other.<br /><br />Young Woman:[</strong><a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/index.php?search=song%20of%20solomon&version1=51#fen-NLT-17519afen-NLT-17519a"><strong>a</strong></a><strong>]<br />2Kiss me again and again, for your love is sweeter than wine. 3How fragrant your cologne, and how pleasing your name! No wonder all the young women love you! 4Take me with you. Come, lets run! Bring me into your bedroom, O my king.[</strong><a title="See footnote b" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/index.php?search=song%20of%20solomon&version1=51#fen-NLT-17522bfen-NLT-17522b"><strong>b</strong></a><strong>]<br /><br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />How happy we are for him! We praise his love even more than wine.<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />How right that the young women love you!<br />5"I am dark and beautiful, O women of Jerusalem, tanned as the dark tents of Kedar. Yes, even as the tents of Solomon!<br />6"Don't look down on me, you fair city girls, just because my complexion is so dark. The sun has burned my skin. My brothers were angry with me and sent me out to tend the vineyards in the hot sun. Now see what it has done to me![</strong><a title="See footnote c" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/index.php?search=song%20of%20solomon&version1=51#fen-NLT-17524cfen-NLT-17524c"><strong>c</strong></a><strong>]<br />7"Tell me, O my love, where are you leading your flock today? Where will you rest your sheep at noon? For why should I wander like a prostitute[</strong><a title="See footnote d" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/index.php?search=song%20of%20solomon&version1=51#fen-NLT-17525dfen-NLT-17525d"><strong>d</strong></a><strong>] among the flocks of your companions?"<br /><br />Young Man:<br />8If you dont know, O most beautiful woman, follow the trail of my flock to the shepherds tents, and there feed your young goats. 9What a lovely filly you are, my beloved one![</strong><a title="See footnote e" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/index.php?search=song%20of%20solomon&version1=51#fen-NLT-17527efen-NLT-17527e"><strong>e</strong></a><strong>] 10How lovely are your cheeks, with your earrings setting them afire! How stately is your neck, accented with a long string of jewels. 11We will make earrings of gold for you and beads of silver.<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />12 The king is lying on his couch, enchanted by the fragrance of my perfume. 13My lover is like a sachet of myrrh lying between my breasts. 14He is like a bouquet of flowers in the gardens of En-gedi.<br /><br />Young Man:<br />15How beautiful you are, my beloved, how beautiful! Your eyes are soft like doves.<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />16What a lovely, pleasant sight you are, my love, as we lie here on the grass, 17shaded by cedar trees and spreading firs.<br /><br />Song of Solomon 2<br />Young Woman:<br />1 I am the rose of Sharon, the lily of the valley.<br /><br />Young Man:<br />2Yes, compared to other women, my beloved is like a lily among thorns.<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />3And compared to other youths, my lover is like the finest apple tree in the orchard. I am seated in his delightful shade, and his fruit is delicious to eat. 4He brings me to the banquet hall, so everyone can see how much he loves me. 5Oh, feed me with your love--your `raisins and your `apples--for I am utterly lovesick! 6His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me.<br />7"Promise me, O women of Jerusalem, by the swift gazelles and the deer of the wild, not to awaken love until the time is right.[</strong><a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%202;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17542afen-NLT-17542a"><strong>a</strong></a><strong>]<br />8"Ah, I hear him--my lover! Here he comes, leaping on the mountains and bounding over the hills. 9My lover is like a swift gazelle or a young deer. Look, there he is behind the wall! Now he is looking in through the window, gazing into the room.<br />10"My lover said to me, `Rise up, my beloved, my fair one, and come away. 11For the winter is past, and the rain is over and gone. 12The flowers are springing up, and the time of singing birds has come, even the cooing of turtledoves. 13The fig trees are budding, and the grapevines are in blossom. How delicious they smell! Yes, spring is here! Arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away.' "<br /><br />Young Man:<br />14My dove is hiding behind some rocks, behind an outcrop on the cliff. Let me see you; let me hear your voice. For your voice is pleasant, and you are lovely.<br /><br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />15Quick! Catch all the little foxes before they ruin the vineyard of your love, for the grapevines are all in blossom.<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />16My lover is mine, and I am his. He feeds among the lilies! 17Before the dawn comes and the shadows flee away, come back to me, my love. Run like a gazelle or a young stag on the rugged mountains.[</strong><a title="See footnote b" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%202;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17552bfen-NLT-17552b"><strong>b</strong></a><strong>]<br /><br />Song of Solomon 3<br />Young Woman:<br />1 One night as I lay in bed, I yearned deeply for my lover, but he did not come. 2So I said to myself, `I will get up now and roam the city, searching for him in all its streets and squares. But my search was in vain. 3The watchmen stopped me as they made their rounds, and I said to them, `Have you seen him anywhere, this one I love so much? 4A little while later I found him and held him. I didnt let him go until I had brought him to my childhood home, into my mothers bedroom, where I had been conceived.<br />5"Promise me, O women of Jerusalem, by the swift gazelles and the deer of the wild, not to awaken love until the time is right.[</strong><a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%203;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17557afen-NLT-17557a"><strong>a</strong></a><strong>]"<br /><br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />6Who is this sweeping in from the deserts like a cloud of smoke along the ground? Who is it that smells of myrrh and frankincense and every other spice? 7Look, it is Solomons carriage, with sixty of Israels mightiest men surrounding it. 8They are all skilled swordsmen and experienced warriors. Each one wears a sword on his thigh, ready to defend the king against an attack during the night.<br />9"King Solomon has built a carriage for himself from wood imported from Lebanon's forests. 10Its posts are of silver, its canopy is gold, and its seat is upholstered in purple cloth. Its interior was a gift of love from the young women of Jerusalem."<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />11Go out to look upon King Solomon, O young women of Jerusalem.[</strong><a title="See footnote b" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%203;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17563bfen-NLT-17563b"><strong>b</strong></a><strong>] See the crown with which his mother crowned him on his wedding day, the day of his gladness.<br /><br />Song of Solomon 4<br />Young Man:<br />1 How beautiful you are, my beloved, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like doves. Your hair falls in waves, like a flock of goats frisking down the slopes of Gilead. 2Your teeth are as white as sheep, newly shorn and washed. They are perfectly matched; not one is missing. 3Your lips are like a ribbon of scarlet. Oh, how beautiful your mouth! Your cheeks behind your veil are like pomegranate halves--lovely and delicious. 4Your neck is as stately as the tower of David, jeweled with the shields of a thousand heroes. 5Your breasts are like twin fawns of a gazelle, feeding among the lilies. 6Before the dawn comes and the shadows flee away, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of frankincense. 7You are so beautiful, my beloved, so perfect in every part.<br />8"Come with me from Lebanon, my bride. Come down[</strong><a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%204;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17571afen-NLT-17571a"><strong>a</strong></a><strong>] from the top of Mount Amana, from Mount Senir and Mount Hermon, where lions have their dens and panthers prowl. 9You have ravished my heart, my treasure, my bride. I am overcome by one glance of your eyes, by a single bead of your necklace. 10How sweet is your love, my treasure, my bride! How much better it is than wine! Your perfume is more fragrant than the richest of spices. 11Your lips, my bride, are as sweet as honey. Yes, honey and cream are under your tongue. The scent of your clothing is like that of the mountains and the cedars of Lebanon.<br />12"You are like a private garden, my treasure, my bride! You are like a spring that no one else can drink from, a fountain of my own. 13You are like a lovely orchard bearing precious fruit, with the rarest of perfumes: 14nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, myrrh and aloes, perfume from every incense tree, and every other lovely spice. 15You are a garden fountain, a well of living water, as refreshing as the streams from the Lebanon mountains."<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />16Awake, north wind! Come, south wind! Blow on my garden and waft its lovely perfume to my lover. Let him come into his garden and eat its choicest fruits.<br /><br />Song of Solomon 5<br />Young Man:<br />1 I am here in my garden, my treasure, my bride! I gather my myrrh with my spices and eat my honeycomb with my honey. I drink my wine with my milk.<br /><br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />Oh, lover and beloved, eat and drink! Yes, drink deeply of this love!<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />3One night as I was sleeping, my heart awakened in a dream. I heard the voice of my lover. He was knocking at my bedroom door. `Open to me, my darling, my treasure, my lovely dove, he said, `for I have been out in the night. My head is soaked with dew, my hair with the wetness of the night.<br />3"But I said, `I have taken off my robe. Should I get dressed again? I have washed my feet. Should I get them soiled?'<br />4"My lover tried to unlatch the door, and my heart thrilled within me. 5I jumped up to open it. My hands dripped with perfume, my fingers with lovely myrrh, as I pulled back the bolt. 6I opened to my lover, but he was gone. I yearned for even his voice! I searched for him, but I couldn't find him anywhere. I called to him, but there was no reply. 7The watchmen found me as they were making their rounds; they struck and wounded me. The watchman on the wall tore off my veil.<br />8"Make this promise to me, O women of Jerusalem! If you find my beloved one, tell him that I am sick with love."<br /><br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />9O woman of rare beauty, what is it about your loved one that brings you to tell us this?<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />10My lover is dark and dazzling, better than ten thousand others! 11His head is the finest gold, and his hair is wavy and black. 12His eyes are like doves beside brooks of water; they are set like jewels. 13His cheeks are like sweetly scented beds of spices. His lips are like perfumed lilies. His breath is like myrrh. 14His arms are like round bars of gold, set with chrysolite. His body is like bright ivory, aglow with sapphires. 15His legs are like pillars of marble set in sockets of the finest gold, strong as the cedars of Lebanon. None can rival him. 16His mouth is altogether sweet; he is lovely in every way. Such, O women of Jerusalem, is my lover, my friend.<br /><br />Song of Solomon 6<br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />1 O rarest of beautiful women, where has your lover gone? We will help you find him.<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />2He has gone down to his garden, to his spice beds, to graze and to gather the lilies. 3I am my lovers, and my lover is mine. He grazes among the lilies!<br /><br />Young Man:<br />4O my beloved, you are as beautiful as the lovely town of Tirzah. Yes, as beautiful as Jerusalem! You are as majestic as an army with banners! 5Look away, for your eyes overcome me! Your hair falls in waves, like a flock of goats frisking down the slopes of Gilead. 6Your teeth are as white as newly washed sheep. They are perfectly matched; not one is missing. 7Your cheeks behind your veil are like pomegranate halves--lovely and delicious. 8There may be sixty wives, all queens, and eighty concubines and unnumbered virgins available to me. 9But I would still choose my dove, my perfect one, the only beloved daughter of her mother! The young women are delighted when they see her; even queens and concubines sing her praises! 10`Who is this, they ask, `arising like the dawn, as fair as the moon, as bright as the sun, as majestic as an army with banners?<br />11"I went down into the grove of nut trees and out to the valley to see the new growth brought on by spring. I wanted to see whether the grapevines were budding yet, or whether the pomegranates were blossoming. 12Before I realized it, I found myself in my princely bed with my beloved one.[</strong><a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%206;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17607afen-NLT-17607a"><strong>a</strong></a><strong>]"<br /><br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />13Return, return to us, O maid of Shulam. Come back, come back, that we may see you once again.<br /><br />Young Man:<br />Why do you gaze so intently at this young woman of Shulam, as she moves so gracefully between two lines of dancers?[</strong><a title="See footnote b" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%206;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17608bfen-NLT-17608b"><strong>b</strong></a><strong>]<br /><br />Song of Solomon 7<br />Young Man:<br />1 How beautiful are your sandaled feet, O queenly maiden. Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a skilled craftsman. 2Your navel is as delicious as a goblet filled with wine. Your belly is lovely, like a heap of wheat set about with lilies. 3Your breasts are like twin fawns of a gazelle. 4Your neck is as stately as an ivory tower. Your eyes are like the sparkling pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bath-rabbim. Your nose is as fine as the tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus. 5Your head is as majestic as Mount Carmel, and the sheen of your hair radiates royalty. A king is held captive in your queenly tresses.<br />6"Oh, how delightful you are, my beloved; how pleasant for utter delight! 7You are tall and slim like a palm tree, and your breasts are like its clusters of dates. 8I said, `I will climb up into the palm tree and take hold of its branches.' Now may your breasts be like grape clusters, and the scent of your breath like apples. 9May your kisses be as exciting as the best wine, smooth and sweet, flowing gently over lips and teeth.[</strong><a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%207;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17617afen-NLT-17617a"><strong>a</strong></a><strong>]"<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />10I am my lovers, the one he desires. 11Come, my love, let us go out into the fields and spend the night among the wildflowers.[</strong><a title="See footnote b" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%207;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17619bfen-NLT-17619b"><strong>b</strong></a><strong>] 12Let us get up early and go out to the vineyards. Let us see whether the vines have budded, whether the blossoms have opened, and whether the pomegranates are in flower. And there I will give you my love. 12There the mandrakes give forth their fragrance, and the rarest fruits are at our doors, the new as well as old, for I have stored them up for you, my lover.<br /><br />Song of Solomon 8<br />Young Woman:<br />1 Oh, if only you were my brother, who nursed at my mothers breast. Then I could kiss you no matter who was watching, and no one would criticize me. 2I would bring you to my childhood home, and there you would teach me. I would give you spiced wine to drink, my sweet pomegranate wine. 3Your left hand would be under my head and your right hand would embrace me.<br />4"I want you to promise, O women of Jerusalem, not to awaken love until the time is right.[</strong><a title="See footnote a" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%208;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17625afen-NLT-17625a"><strong>a</strong></a><strong>]"<br /><br />Young Women of Jerusalem:<br />5Who is this coming up from the desert, leaning on her lover?<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />I aroused you under the apple tree, where your mother gave you birth, where in great pain she delivered you. 6Place me like a seal over your heart, or like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death, and its jealousy is as enduring as the grave. Love flashes like fire, the brightest kind of flame. 7Many waters cannot quench love; neither can rivers drown it. If a man tried to buy love with everything he owned, his offer would be utterly despised.<br /><br />The Young Womans Brothers:<br />8We have a little sister too young for breasts. What will we do if someone asks to marry her? 9If she is chaste, we will strengthen and encourage her. But if she is promiscuous, we will shut her off from men.[</strong><a title="See footnote b" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%208;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17630bfen-NLT-17630b"><strong>b</strong></a><strong>]<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />10I am chaste, and I am now full breasted. And my lover is content with me.<br />11"Solomon has a vineyard at Baal-hamon, which he rents to some farmers there. Each of them pays one thousand pieces of silver[</strong><a title="See footnote c" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%208;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17632cfen-NLT-17632c"><strong>c</strong></a><strong>] for its use. 12But as for my own vineyard, O Solomon, you can take my thousand pieces of silver. And I will give two hundred pieces of silver[</strong><a title="See footnote d" href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=song%20of%20solomon%208;&version=51;#fen-NLT-17633dfen-NLT-17633d"><strong>d</strong></a><strong>] to those who care for its vines."<br /><br />Young Man:<br />13O my beloved, lingering in the gardens, how wonderful that your companions can listen to your voice. Let me hear it, too!<br /><br />Young Woman:<br />14Come quickly, my love! Move like a swift gazelle or a young deer on the mountains of spices.</strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1114910852948424482004-06-04T18:25:00.000-07:002005-05-08T21:34:59.320-07:00Gender and the shaping of desire in the song of songs and its interpretation<img src="http://www.yaronlivay.com/yaron%20images/sosawake.jpg" /><br /><br /><a name="citation"></a><strong>Gender and the shaping of desire in the song of songs and its interpretation<br />David Carr. Journal of Biblical Literature. Atlanta: Summer 2000.Vol.119, Iss. 2; pg. 233, 16 pgs<br /><br /></strong><a name="more"></a><strong>The work lives to the extent it has influence. Included within the influence of a work is that which is accomplished in the consumption of the work as well as in the work itself That which happens with the work is an expression of what the work is.<br />-Karl Kosik'<br />Take a look at introductions to commentaries on the Song of Songs or at recent essays on the book, and you will often find a common tale concerning the Song and its readers. This tale of reading and misreading can be summarized as follows:<br />Long ago, in ancient Israel a poet wrote passionate poetry about human love that we now find in the Song of Songs. Somehow this poetry found its way into the Hebrew Scriptures. Then, in the early centuries of the common era, Jews and then Christians, confronted with such erotic material in the heart of the canon, reread the Song as a song of love between God and God's people. This misreading was then perpetuated through various grotesque elaborations through the centuries. Those who read the Song correctly as a song of love were brutally persecuted. Only in recent years was the Song liberated from the dark ages of its misinterpretation. Using the tools of biblical criticism, scholars uncovered the original focus of the Song on human love and unmasked the repressive interpretations of the past as the misreadings that they were.<br />Although this tale is not universal, it is remarkably pervasive. For example, the key element of attack on earlier readings is evident in the following comments by Marvin Pope in the introduction to his commentary on the Song of Songs:<br />The flexibility and adaptability of the allegorical method, the ingenuity and imagination with which it could be, and was, applied, the difficulty and virtual impossibility of imposing objective controls, the astounding and bewildering results of almost two millennia of application to the Canticle, have all contributed to its progressive discredit and almost complete desertion.2<br />Lest we see this understanding as isolated, I include a second quotation, this time from one of the most able German commentators on the Song, Othmar Keel:<br />... zu welch willkurlichen unbefriedigenden and haufig himmelschreiend grotesken Rusultaten das "tiefere" Verstandnis der Allegoristen fiirhte, ist in jeder Geschichte der Auslegung des Hohelied nachzulesen.3<br />One can read in any history of exegesis of the Song of Songs what arbitrary, unsatisfactory, and revoltingly grotesque results were produced by an allegorical search for a "deeper meaning." (My translation)<br />These are but fragments of a broader perspective found in most critical work on the Song of Songs.4<br />In sum, this tale of reading and misreading of the Song of Songs has an almost mythic power. One reason for this may be that this tale resonates with the "myth of repression" that Michel Foucault has documented in modern discourse about sex. This myth tells us that we are in a time of liberation from a long process of sexual repression in the Western world. Yet Foucault and others have pointed out that the very discourses that are used as evidence for sexual repression, say in the Victorian period, were actually shaping, naming, and even instigating the very practices and development of sexual identities that they seemed designed to suppress.5<br />Much critical scholarship on the Song of Songs over the last decades has unconsciously participated in this modern construction of sexualities through reproducing a mini-variant of the myth of repression discussed by Foucault. In place of general sexual repression, we have the specific story of the repression of the original erotic meaning of the Song. In place of more general sexual liberation, we have scholarly recovery of the original erotic meaning of the Song. Recent readings of the Song as promoting non-fertility-related erotic love echo the more general shift in industrialized societies toward nonreproductive sexuality.6 Only recently have some begun to reflect critically on how sexuality was shaped in ancient Israel.7 To the best of my knowledge no published works have reflected in a sustained way on how twentieth-century understandings of gender and desire have shaped modern critical readings of the Song of Songs and its interpretations.<br />There will not be space in this essay to execute that project, but I do intend to tell the start of a somewhat different story of the Song and its journey through history, one that begins with shapings of desire in ancient Israel.<br />I. Sexual Gender<br />In order to tell this story, we must reexamine presuppositions implicit in the modem tale of interpretation just reviewed. One of the central characteristics of the scholarly myth of the genesis and repression of the Song of Songs is the construction of maleness and femaleness that it presupposes. Most contemporary Western readers of the Song and its interpretations presuppose that the thing that makes men and women different from one another is different bodies. This is sexual difference, upon which culture builds a set of gender distinctions. Thus, according to this understanding, "sex" and "gender" are distinct.<br />As Thomas Laqueur points out, however, this body-focused concept of sexual difference is itself a historical phenomenon. He argues that the premodern world worked with a one-sex concept of humanity, where male and female bodies were seen as essentially the same. According to this model, what made men "men" and women "women" was not their bodies, but their place on a broader cosmic hierarchy. Depending on where they stood on that hierarchy, men and women's bodies would receive the minor bodily changes to reflect their position. And there were tales of women, for example, who might act excessively male and sprout penises, thus shifting their physical form to correspond to their new place on the hierarchy. Laqueur's best summary of this perspective comes at the outset of his discussion of the continuation of this one-sex system into the Renaissance:<br />Renaissance doctors understood there to be only one sex. On the other hand, there were manifestly at least two social sexes with radically different rights and obligations, somehow corresponding to ranges or bands, higher and lower, on the corporeal scale of being. Neither sort of sex-social or biological-could be viewed as foundational or primary, although gender divisions -the categories of social sex-were certainly construed as natural. More important, though, biological sex, which we generally take to serve as the basis of gender, was just as much in the domain of culture and meaning as was gender. A penis was thus a status symbol rather than a sign of some other deeply rooted ontological essence: real sex. It could be construed as a certificate of sorts, like the diploma of a doctor or lawyer today, which entitled the bearer to certain rights and privileges.8<br />Thus, the fundamental aspect of sexual gender in this system is not a body but where one stands on a broader cosmic hierarchy. A key threat to this system occurs when the behavioral boundaries blur, for example, when a male, who was supposed to be high in the cosmic hierarchy, plays the part of the "lower," penetrated "woman" in anal intercourse.9<br />Judith Butler and others have built on Laqueur's work to argue for a radical reconceptualization of the sexed and gendered subject,10 but the argument in what follows is not dependent on an endorsement of the idea of the construction of sexuality, the gendered body, or human subjects. Moreover, it remains to be seen whether Laqueur's depiction of the construction of sexual gender in the classical world can be applied to the world of the Bible,11 But the work of Foucault, Laqueur, and others can lead us to take a new look at how sexuality is shaped in ancient Israel and at the ideas of sexual gender implicit in that shaping.<br />II. Sexual Hierarchy and the Theological Marriage Matrix<br />As is well known, Israel's legal prohibitions regarding sexuality focus on (a) protection of a man's status as guardian of his wife and unmarried daughter's reproductive potential and (b) protection of his dignity as a sexually autonomous actor.12 Laws regarding adultery focus exclusively on cases where a man has sex with a woman married or engaged to another man (Deut 22:22-27; Lev 20: 10; cf. Deut 5:18//Exod 20:14 and Deut 5:2 1//Exod 20:17). The laws regarding premarital sex focus on compensation or punishment when a man has sex with another man's unmarried daughter (Exod 22:15-16; Dent 22:28-29). And the only laws concerning homosexuality focus on cases of anal intercourse, where one man has another man play the part of a woman (Lev 18:22; 20:13), a case seen as a problem in other ancient Mediterranean cultures as well. 13<br />Within this system men are sexually autonomous as long as they do not violate the rights of other men over their women. Both married and unmarried men may have sex with prostitutes, slaves, and war prisoners. Men sow the seed of procreation and are almost always viewed as the proper initiators of sexual activity. In contrast, women receive the seed, and wives bear children who inherit the land. 14 As a result, many biblical traditions aim to ensure that women of proper lineage be the vessels of Israelite seed. Much effort is expended to ensure women's abstinence before marriage and fidelity within it. To be sure, some women such as Tamar of Genesis 38 or Ruth are depicted positively for their sexual initiative, but these cases are each closely connected with the establishment of a male dynastic line when the male protagonists are hesitant to do their part. Outside of such special cases, women are depicted as passive participants in sex, and a woman who initiates sex is depicted as a dangerous adulterer, as in, say, the vilified "strange woman" in Proverbs 7 (see also 2:16-19; 5:3-6; 6:24-35; 22:14; 23:27-28), who seduces a foolish youth to share her perfumed bed while her husband is away.15<br />Major theological streams in Israel included God in this sexual system. Adapting ancient Near Eastern treaty language, the Shema of Deut 6:4-5 enjoins the people of Israel to have the kind of exclusive, all-consuming love for God that a wife was to have for her husband-to love with all her heart, life strength, and might. Other texts in the Deuteronomistic History elaborate this analogy, calling on Israel to "love," "walk after," and "cleave to" YHWH (e.g., Deut 10:12, 20; 11:1, 13, 22; 13:5; 19:9; 30:6, 16, 20; Josh 22:5; 23:8, 11 [cf. 23:12-13])16 and idealizing those who do so (1 Kgs 3:3; 2 Kgs 18:6).17 On the flip side, Deuteronomistic texts call on Israel not to "go after" (...) other gods (e.g., Deut 6:14; 28:14; Jer 25:6; cf. Deut 8:19; 11:28; 13:3; Jer 7:6, 9; 11:10; 13:10; 16:11; 35:15), much like a human wife was not to pursue other lovers. Moreover, YHWH is described as having a lover-like "jealousy" (cf Num 5:14, 29, 30) about the people's "sexual acting out" (:?)18 through worshiping other gods (Deut 31:16; cf. Judg 2:17; 8:27, 33; and Exod 34:14-15; Num 15:39),19 Indeed, as is well known, Israel was often imaged by prophets as an adulterous woman, failing to be exclusively faithful to her divine husband, and worshiping other gods (e.g., Hos 2:4-17; Jer 2:1-3:13; Ezekiel 16, 23; cf. Isa 54:4-8; 62:4-5). And just as a jealous human husband had the right to strip, starve, and beat his wife into returning to him, so also Hosea, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel depict God as promising to strip Israel in the eyes of her lovers and force her to come back to him (Hos 2:11-17; Jer 13:25-27; Ezek 16:35-42; 23:22-27).<br />Sometimes there is slippage between the divine and human sexual levels. For example, as Kirsten Nielson has suggested, Isaiah in his vineyard song of chapter 5 tricks his male audience into thinking that he is singing of a jilted husband.20 First we need to recall how often in the Near East a wife is spoken of as a field or vineyard, into which a man plants his seed that will bring forth children.21 In Isaiah's "love song" (1717 MIi 5:1a), the husband cared for his wife, his "vineyard," and planted his good seed in her, but she yielded "wild grapes," easily understood as the children of another man (5:lb-2). After stating this accusation, the male audience is called on to endorse this husband's intention to treat his wife as unfaithful, stripping his "vineyard" and punishing her (5:3-). Yet the men soon hear that the very female they proclaimed judgment on is themselves: "for the vineyard of YHWH of armies is the house of Israel. . ." (5:7). These men thought they were enforcing the honor system on a fellow man's wife, but in fact they were the female vineyard, and their God was the angry husband.<br />I have briefly outlined a well-known set of beliefs that might be termed a "theological marriage matrix." In this matrix the believing community is depicted as the female spouse of the male god-called on to love that God with the exclusive love of a wife and punished for failure to do so. Notably, this construction of a female erotic religious subject in ancient Israel coincided with Israel's move toward henotheistic and monotheistic theology. So, where the Israelite God might have once been paired with a divine partner, say Asherah, now God is placed in relationship with a human sexual subject, and this relationship-with often highly troubling aspects-is understood to be that between a male and female.22 Thus, in henotheistic and monotheistic Israel, gender and love have become key concepts describing power differentials on multiple levels of the cosmic hierarchy.<br />This links with Laqueur's proposal regarding the positional character of sex in the ancient world-where one's position on a cosmic hierarchy determines one's sex. Thus, where I might be a "man" vis-h-vis a human woman in the hierarchy, we might both be "women" vis-a-vis God, who stands yet higher in that hierarchy. Within this world of essentially identical bodies and fluid boundaries between the sexes, it was a small step from seeing the man as superior to the woman in the hierarchy to seeing men and women as both in some sense actually "the woman" in a hierarchy extending upward to God. Thus, Israel as "woman" may not be "just" the metaphor that we often think it to be.23<br />Israel appears to have had a broad gender-hierarchical system where the .man" in a given relationship-whether human or divine-had exclusive rights to the "woman" of the relationship, whether a human woman or the people of God. The primary image of a problem in this system is that of a "woman" who acts contrary to the hierarchy and seeks out another lover. When she does so, she is not just an image of infidelity. She calls the whole hierarchy into question. A woman of unruly sexual initiative symbolizes the subordinate person getting out of control, not knowing her place. That is what makes the image of the sexually proactive "adulterous woman" so potent as a symbol of a rebellious Israel-because it accuses Israel of ignoring this broader cosmic hierarchy.<br />III. The Song of Songs as Alternative Discourse<br />Into this world of reproductively focused sexuality, hierarchies, male rights, and vilified sexually proactive women comes the Song of Songs. The Song begins with female sexual initiative in the famous opening lines, "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your lovemaking (7'7t)24 is better than wine" (Cant 1:2). This woman's voice and presence dominate the rest of the Song.25 To be sure, a man speaks his praise of her starting in 1:9-11 (also 1:15; 2:2; 4:1-7; 6:4-9; 7:2-10), and he comes to "his garden" upon being invited by her (4:16-5:1a). At the same time, she trumps his praises of her (1:16-17; 2:3); she begins and ends the Song; she is the one who speaks its refrains; and she is the one who calls on her lover to do things-draw her after him (1:4), be like a gazelle (2:17), come out to the fields with her (7:12-14), set her as a seal on his arm (8:6), and flee (8:14). Where he hovers outside and his invitations to her are mediated through her words (2:10-14; 5:2-4), her passion is directly presented to the audience26 and she energetically seeks him (1:7), "seizing" him and/or "bringing him" to the house of her mother (3:4; 8:1-2). In the middle of the Song he confesses to being driven mad by one of her glances, with but one of the strands of her necklace (4:9). By the end, the man's praise of her beauty is laced with fear before her awesome character (6:4, 10; 7:2-6).<br />Yet the poems of the song sometimes depict the female character as vulnerable. She is defensive about her sun-darkened skin (1:6a), put out to keep the flocks by her brothers (1:6b; cf. 8:8-9), found inside when her lover is outside (e.g., 2:9-13; 5:2-5), stripped and beaten in her second venture out to seek her lover (5:7), and prevented by fear of shame from kissing her lover in public (8:1). There is no sign throughout the Song that the lovers of the Song of Songs are married or that their love is sanctioned in any way. Their relationship is clandestine, though they wish it were otherwise (8:1-2, 13-14). And there is no talk of children, nor typical use of fertility imagery.27 However powerful the female character of the Song may appear, she is also depicted as exposed to the vulnerabilities of Israelite women, and she and her lover must still conduct their relationship amidst the obstacles presented by a society hostile to their relationship.28<br />That being said, this text contrasts sharply with other depictions of desire in ancient Israel.29 Where the dangerous foreign woman in Proverbs tempted the student toward death with kisses and a bed of spices, now the prominent female voice of the Song of Songs yearns for the kisses of her lover's mouth and they speak frequently of their spiced bed. Where a proactive, rule-breaking woman is the image of a disobedient, adulterous community in Hosea, now the Song of Songs features a woman who faces down the disapproval of her audience for her dark skin, seeks her lover at night, and revels in her love for him. To be sure, this otherwise untypical woman of the Song of Songs is not married, and so the Song does not celebrate extramarital sexuality. Yet it nevertheless presents an atypical view of premarital sexuality and nonreproductively focused female sexual initiative. Moreover, the often overpowering male of Israel's legal and prophetic texts is replaced here with a male passionately bound to the woman who loves him, captivated by but one of her glances, but one of the strands of her necklace.<br />So, we might ask, given its differences from other Israelite traditions, how was the Song of Songs received alongside the gender hierarchy mentioned earlier? Were ancient Israelites scandalized by the book? Was it some form of ancient pornography?30<br />An answer to these questions may lie in work done in the last twenty years by both classicists and Middle Eastern ethnographers, who have uncovered a rich world of networks and alternative discourses among the women of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern societies. Thus, Teri Joseph showed how teenage Riffian Berber girls sing influential and often daring songs in the liminal situation of wedding celebrations.31 Safa-Isfahani found Iranian women engaging in folk dramas that mocked their husbands and boldly confronted the problems of their lives.32 Such alternative women's discourses are hardly a uniquely modern phenomenon. John Winkler has found traces of similar alternative female discourses about sexuality and power in ancient Greek traditions.33<br />Perhaps most interestingly, in her study of West Egyptian Awlad CAli Bedouin, Lila Abu-Lughod uncovered a tradition of passionate poetry, primarily sung by women or by lovers courting each other. Like the Song of Songs, this poetry stood in sharp contrast to the honor culture of the Bedouin she studied. Whereas this culture was officially hostile to romantic attachments that might compromise marriage arrangements to the proper lineages, people-especially women-could express their deepest passions through traditional poems, poems often connected to epics told about heroes of their people. Indeed, sometimes friends or lovers would express their deepest feelings through singing such traditional poems back and forth to each other, picking poems that corresponded to the sentiments they could not express more directly. They would distance themselves from their feelings through using the words of someone else, yet express themselves nevertheless.34<br />According to Abu-Lughod, this was not some sort of protest discourse or a cathartic release from an emotionally oppressive system. Instead, she argues that this practice of singing intimate poetry is symbiotically related to the honor norms of the dominant culture. For example, through singing of passionate love and/or loss, the singer demonstrates an ability to channel her feelings into an acceptable medium and the fact that her-often difficult-act of doing so is a choice. On a broader societal level, the celebration of passionate poetry of feeling amidst a dominant ideology of honor reflects tensions between the anti-- structural, egalitarian ideals of the Awlad cAli and hierarchical domination structures within the community-15<br />There are many suggestive parallels between the poetic practices studied by Abu-Lughod and the Song of Songs.36 Like Abu-Lughod's poems, the Song of Songs is loosely connected to a national epic by way of Solomon, and its depictions of female vulnerability are but one sign that it is symbiotically related to the broader culture with which it contrasts. The sometimes disjointed and dialogical character of the Song of Songs parallels the way Awlad CAli lovers and female friends would use separate poems to communicate back and forth to one another. And just as women studied by Abu-Lughod were the most prominent singers of heartfelt poetry, so also the female voice dominates the Song of Songs.37 Most important, however, is the way Abu-Lughod's and others' work shows that multiple discourses can coexist and even reinforce each other within the same culture. Israelite culture was no monolith, just as our cultures are not. As a result, alternative poetry such as the Song of Songs or the poetry studied by Abu-Lughod may inscribe sexual subjects somewhat different from those of more public discourses, even as these alternative discourses stand in constant relation to more dominant ones.<br />This is not to suggest that the Song of Songs is a transcript of an actual intimate interchange between lovers. Rather it is an imaginative work that builds a poetic world based in part on discourses known to its audience, including possibly the kind of alternative, nonpublic discourses uncovered by Abu-Lughod, Winkler, and others. Originally, the Song of Songs was probably designed for entertainment, much like similar love poetry in Egypt.311 Yet the written imitation of nonpublic discourse had profound implications. For it took a depiction of what would normally be an intensely private exchange and resituated it in the public realm. Moreover, as we have seen, this public realm in ancient Israel probably did not strongly separate human male-female love from human-- divine love the way modems do. Instead, many understood divine-human love to be male-female love governed by much the same principles as male-female love on the human level.39<br />Given all this, it was natural for early interpreters to understand the depiction of male-female love in the Song of Songs to be relevant to the theological marriage matrix known elsewhere in Israel. Just as Hosea, the Deuteronomists, Isaiah, or Ezekiel could apply human gender categories to a picture of human infidelity to the divine, it was but a small step to take the radically different picture of love in the Song of Songs and use it to depict that same divine-human love relationship differently. What seems to be a big jump to modern readers, may have been a much smaller one to ancient ones.<br />The earliest audiences of the Song appear to have done just that, radically reimaging the divine-human, male-female relationship in terms of the Song of Songs. Thus in place of the shaming and stripping of Hosea, Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Ezekiel, we see images such as:<br />The Mekhilta and Sifre's understanding of the woman's praise of the man's body in Cant 5:10-16 to be Israel's praise of God's body at the Red Sea.40<br />Origen's rereading of the Song of Songs as a means of awakening within the soul the passionate, erotic love for God for which the soul was originally created.41<br />Bernard of Clairvaux's redescription of the opening of the Song-as the soul passionately demanding nothing less than union with God, as she refuses to settle for the divine kiss of the feet or hands and says, "I ask, I crave, I implore; let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth."42<br />Mechthild of Magdeburg's vision where her divine beloved "took her in His divine arms, placed His fatherly hand on her breast, and looked into her face. Note how she was kissed there. With this kiss she was raised to the highest heights above the choirs of angels."43<br />In each case, the Song's description of a mutually passionate relationship is harnessed to redescribe the divine-human relationship in less violent and hierarchical terms.<br />To be sure, the human soul or community is still almost always the woman" in these interpretations.44 Yet the "woman" constructed in the Song of Songs is a far more powerful and unruly character than elsewhere in the Bible. She makes demands on God, even as she passionately desires him. And God is taken by his love for her, subject to her demands, "driven mad by but one of her glances, with but one of the strands of her necklace." Indeed, in parts of the Song, the challenge to the divine-human hierarchy would not be as great if we were to take God as the woman and humanity as the man.45<br />IV. Concluding Reflections<br />All this is not intended to suggest that these interpreters were recovering the originally intended meaning of the Song. Though the Song may draw on forms and/or specific cultic traditions that depicted divine love,46 the Song itself shows no clear signs of having been written to depict God's relation with God's people or the soul. Even the latest levels of the Song, such as its superscription, do not indicate a theological orientation,47 and it was neither Placed near nor explicitly coordinated with those texts (e.g., Hosea, Ezekiel) which most clearly depict the divine-human relationship as that between male and female lovers. Otherwise similar ancient Near Eastern cultic dialogues between gods and goddesses include telltale addresses to the deities by name.48 Erotic religious literature such as the Hindu Gita Govinda or Rumi's mystical poetry include asides and other indicators of their divine referents.49 The Song lacks such indicators. Moreover, though various theological interpreters have attempted to prove otherwise, the nontheological props and scenery of the Song suggest that it originally focused on human lovers.<br />That said, it should also be noted that the push in much modern biblical scholarship to distinguish sharply ancient theological and modern critical interpretations says more about modern interpreters than about the dynamics of the Song and its ancient interpretations. For the ancient Israelites, the jump from human male-female gender to divine-human gender was smaller than it is for us. At the same time, partly because of elements of our culture like the myth of repression, generations of biblical scholars time and again have depicted their nontheological approaches to the Song as a radical improvement over the repressed, ridiculous interpretations of their predecessors. In this respect, much critical biblical scholarship has been insufficiently critical of its own aims and categories.<br />In the face of this, it would be easy for specialists to renounce comment on the history of interpretation altogether. Yet to do so would be to cut biblical scholarship from a crucial dimension of the reality of the texts under study. As Kosik puts it in the quotation at the outset of this article, a "work lives to the extent it has influence" and "that which happens with the work is an expression of what the work is." In the end it was the Song of Songs read theologically and not Hosea that was preached on more often than any other OT book in the thirteenth century. It was the Song of Songs and not Jeremiah or Ezekiel that was one of the most frequently copied manuscripts of the Middle Ages.50 It was the Song of Songs and not Proverbs, that Rabbi Akiba is reported to have described as the "holy of holies" among the writings (m. Yad. 3:5). In the midst of a renaissance of study of the Song of Songs in recent years, we would do well to listen attentively to such ancient readers and let our own notions of love and subjectivity be interrogated even as we interrogate theirs.<br />[Footnote]<br />Earlier drafts of portions of this article were presented at the 1998 Congress of the International Organization for the Study of Old Testament (Oslo, Norway) and in a 1998 session of the Reading, Theory and the Bible Section of the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature (Orlando, Florida). I thank participants in both sessions for their helpful comments and questions. In addition, this essay has been enriched through conversations with former colleagues at Methodist Theological School in Ohio, particularly Colleen Conway, Assistant Professor of New Testament. I dedicate this piece to them.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />1 The English translation of a German rendering of Kosik's Chech original comes from Hans Robert Jauss, "Literary History as a Challenge to Literary Theory," in Toward an Aesthetic of Reception (trans. Timothy Bahti; Theory and History of Literature 2; Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1982) 15. The German rendering can be found in Karl Kosik, Die Dialektik des Konkreten: Eine Studie zur Problematik des Menschen and der Welt (trans. Marianne Hoffmann; Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1967) 138.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />2 Marvin Pope, The Song of Songs: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 7C; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1977) 90.<br />3 Othmar Keel, Das Hohelied (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1986) 16.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />4 Some examples of work from the 1990s include Diane Bergant, Song of Songs: The Love Poetry of Scripture (Spiritual Commentaries; New York: New City Press, 1998) 7-11; Ariel Bloch and Chana Bloch, The Song of Songs: A New Translation with an Introduction and Commentary (New York: Random House, 1995) 27-35; David Clines, "Why is There a Song of Songs and What Does It Do to You If You Read It?" in Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup 205; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995) 100-121 (though Clines argues that modern readings also fail to be sufficiently critical); Andr6 Lacocque, Romance She Wrote: A Hermeneutical Essay on Song of Songs (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, 1998) esp. 168; John Snaith, Song of Songs (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993) 3-6; and Renita Weems, "The Song of Songs," in NIB, 5.370-71.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />Recently more works have attempted to combine a reading of the Song as human love poetry with a more sympathetic reading of the history of interpretation of the Song. Two book-length examples are Roland Murphy, The Song of Songs: A Commentary on the Book of Canticles or The Song of Songs (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990); and Nicholas Ayo [text] and Meinrad Craighead [artwork], Sacred Marriage: The Wisdom of the Song of Songs (New York: Continuum, 1997).<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />5 Michel Foucault, History of Sexuality (3 vols; New York: Pantheon, 1978-86; French original, 1976-84).<br />6 On this shift, see the overview in John D'Emilio and Estelle B. Freedman, Intimate Matters: A History of Sexuality in America (New York: Harper & Row, 1988). Athalya Brenner has pointed out the existence of folk birth control traditions in the cultures surrounding Israel (The Intercourse of Knowledge: On tendering Desire and Sexuality in the Hebrew Bible [Biblical Interpretation; Leiden: Brill, 1997] 72-78). Nevertheless, the lack of reliability of such methods has meant that, up until recently, most forms of unmarried love carried the high probability of the creation of children.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />7 Saul Olyan, "And with a Male You Shall Not Lie the Lying Down of a Woman," Journal of the History of Sexuality 5/2 (1994) 179-206; Daniel Boyarin, "Are There Any Jews in `The History of Sexuality?" Journal of the History of Sexuality 5/3 (1995) 333-55; Brenner, Intercourse of Knowledge. See also the stimulating survey by David Biale, Eros and the Jews: From Biblical Israel to Contemporary America (New York: Basic Books, 1992) 15-32.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />8 Thomas Laqueur, Making Seat: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud (Cambridge, MA/II.ondon: Harvard University Press, 1990) 134-35.<br />9 Ibid., 53.<br />10 Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Rout<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />ledge, 1990). Butler cites earlier work by Laqueur, among others, at the outset of her discussion (p. 152 n. 10).<br />" See, however, some preliminary reflections prompted in part by gender theory in Tikva Frymer-Kensky, In the Wake of the Goddesses: Women, Culture, and the Biblical Transformation of Pagan Myth (New York: Free Press, 1992) 118-43, esp. 140-43 and 262 n. 133.<br />12 For an overview, see Brenner, Intercourse of Knowledge, esp. 132-51.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />13 Olyan, "And with a Male," 179-206; Boyarin, "Are there any Jews in the History of Sexuality?" 333-55. Here I side with Boyarin's interpretation of the evidence as relating to gender hierarchy (pp. 340-48) over against Olyan's rejection of that approach (p. 199) and his proposal that the issue involves mixing of semen and other bodily fluids (pp. 199-204).<br />14 The latter parallels widespread imagery in modern Mediterranean societies. See Carol Delaney, "Seeds of Honor, Fields of Shame," in Honor and Shame and the Unity of the Mediterranean (ed. David Gilmore; Washington, DC: American Anthropological Association, 1987) 35-48; and Raymond Jamous, "From the Death of Men to the Peace of God: Violence and Peace-making in the Rif," in Honor and Grace in Anthropology (ed. J. G. Peristiany and J. Pitt-Rivers; Cambridge Studies in Social and Cultural Anthropology 76; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992) 168-69.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />1-5 The other main biblical example of this image is adulterous Israel. Since this case is on the divine-human level, it is discussed below.<br />16 Notably, the expression "walk after" with YHWH occurs only in 13:5 -1W '-Irt) of the texts cited above, while the other cited expressions that use the verb T usually speak of walking "in [all] his paths" -[ n; 10:12; 11:22; 19:9; 30:16; Josh 22:5; cf. 1 Kgs 3:3).<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />17 As William Moran first observed, ancient Near Eastern treaties similarly use the language of love to describe political relations ("The Ancient Near Eastern Background of the Love of God in Deuteronomy," CBQ 25 [1963] 77-87, esp. 78-80; see also Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School [Oxford: Clarendon, 1972] 82-83). Just as a wife was to "love," "walk after," and "cleave to" her husband, so also political subjects and vassals were to "love," "walk after," and "cleave to" their lord.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />Is Though some routinely translate MT as referring to sex-for-hire (e.g., "whoring" or harlotry") more nuanced discussions have observed that the verb often designates any sex outside a sanctioned relationship (KB3, 1.264; S. Erlansson, m7t, TWAT, 2.613).<br />19 These implications were first pointed out by Gershon Cohen, "The Song of Songs and the Jewish Religious Mentality," in The Samuel Friedland Lectures, 1960-1966 (ed. L. Finkelstein; New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1966) 58. Against Cohen, Weinfeld argues that such language in Deuteronomy does not necessarily imply "the husband-wife metaphor" since there is no explicit reference to it in the Pentateuch (Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 81-82 n. 6).<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />Frymer-Kensky notes, however, that the language of "jealousy" appears to distinguish the love language of Deuteronomy from that of the treaties on which it builds, implying a relationship analogous to that between human lovers (In the Wake of the Goddesses, 146). Further research is required to see whether and how much the use of this language was accompanied by implicit malefemale gendering of the persons involved.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />20 Kirsten Nielson, There Is Hope for a Tree: The Tree as Metaphor in Isaiah (JSOTSup 65; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989) 94-97.<br />21 Delaney, "Seeds of Honor, Fields of Shame," 35-48.<br />20 Generally, when this linkage has been noted before, it has been yoked to a more specific theory regarding the prophetic transformation of an ancient practice of "sacred marriage." See, e.g., E. Jacob, "L'heritage canaan6en dans le livre du prophete Osie," RHPR 43 (1963) 250-59,<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />esp. 252 (older examples are cited by Cohen, "Song of Songs," 19 n. 6). The notes above do not depend on this specific, and ever more questionable, theory.<br />23 Cf nuanced discussions of the "marital metaphor in Cohen, "Song of Songs"; Frymer-- Kensky, In the Wake of the Goddesses, 144-52; and Renita Weems, Battered Love: Marriage, Sex, and Violence in the Hebrew Prophets (OBT; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995).<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />24 Unless indicated otherwise, the translations here and in the following are my own. Though most translations render the plural of 71- here simply as "love," the word typically refers to actualized sexual relations of some sort (see Pope, Song of Songs, 299). Hence, I follow the Blochs in translating the term here as "lovemaking" (Bloch and Bloch, Song of Songs, 137). Following the MT, the possessive pronoun here is second person. Some have proposed emending the text so that it does not shift from third to second person. Nevertheless, the shift from third-person monologue to direct address anticipates the interplay between these modes throughout the rest of the Song. Moreover, there is no significant manuscript evidence for an alternative reading.<br />25 Here and in the following discussion I refer to a "man" and a "woman" in the singular as if<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />they are continuous characters in a single work. To be sure, as A. Brenner observes, no one has successfully argued for a picture of the Song as a "unified sequence of love lyrics, with an ongoing linear plot" (The Song of Songs [OTG; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989] 35-40; see more recently eadem, "To See is to Assume: Whose Love is Celebrated in the Song of Songs?" BibInt 1 [1993] 266-69). Nevertheless, as Michael Fox in particular has shown, the present book coheres in a non-narrative sense (The Song of Songs and the Ancient Egyptian Love Songs [Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985] 195-226). Moreover, Jill Munro has found elements of "narrativity" in the Song, without presupposing that the Song is unified by a "unfolding plot movement" of the sort often sought by previous interpreters (Spikenard and Saffron: The Imagery of the Song of Songs [JSOTSup 203; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995] 35-42, 110-14, 145-46).<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />For a recent sustained attempt to find two intertwined plots in the Song of Songs, see Erich Bosshard-Nepustil, "Zu Struktur and Sachprofil des Hohenlieds," BN 81 (1996) 45-71. Though the article contains numerous intriguing observations, Bosshard-Nepustil's approach-like the dramatic theories he aims to replace-is weakened by the lack of explicit markers in the text of shifts in the hypothesized pairs of lovers being discussed.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />26 Building on some recent works by Clines ("Why is There a Song of Songs?") and Donald C. Polaski ("What Will Ye See in the Shulammite? Women, Power and Panopticism in the Song of Songs," BibInt 5 [1997] 64-81), Cheryl Exum cautions that the apparently unmediated quality of the woman's voice may be misleading ("Developing Strategies of Feminist Criticism/Developing Strategies for Commentating the Song of Songs, in Auguries: The Jubilee Volume of the Sheffield Department of Biblical Studies [ed. David Clines and Philip Davies; JSOTSup 269; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998] 228-30). For the purposes of comparison with other biblical texts, however, I am working with the seemingly unmediated voice of the woman as presented by the surface of the text.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />27 Instead, as Brenner points out (Intercourse of Knowledge, 72-78), the herbs most used in birth control in the ancient Mediterranean world also figure prominently in the Song. On the nonmarried character of the relationship, see Fox, Song of Songs, 229-43.<br />28 This element of overcoming social barriers to the relationship is highlighted effectively by Weems, "Song of Songs," passim.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />29 For some other contrasts of the female in the Song of Songs with other biblical texts, see in particular Fokkelien van Dijk-Hemmes, "The Imagination of Power and the Power of Imagination," in A Feminist Companion to the Song of Songs (ed. A. Brenner; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993) 156-70; original, 1989) and Ilana Pardes, "'I am a Wall, and My Breasts like Towers': The Song of Songs and the Question of Canonization," in her Countertraditions in the Bible: A Feminist Approach (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992) 118-43.<br />30 The latter suggested by Clines, "Why is There a Song of Songs?" 100-106. See also Polaski, "What Will Ye See?" 71-80, who argues that the powerful woman of the Song is only constructed as such by the assumed values of an all-powerful male gaze.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />31 Teri Joseph, "Poetry as a Strategy of Power: The Case of Riffian Berber Women," Signs 5 (1980) 418-34.<br />32 Safa-Isfahani, "Female-centered World Views in Iranian Culture: Symbolic Representations of Sexuality in Dramatic Games," Signs 6 (1981) 33-53.<br />33 John Winkler, The Constraints of Desire: The Anthropology of Sex and Gender in Ancient Greece (New York: Routledge, 1990).<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />Ala Abu-Lughod, Veiled Sentiments: Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986) esp. 171-232.<br />a5 Ibid., 234-59.<br />36 John Chance previously suggested the relevance of Abu-Lughod's work for study of the Song of Songs in his "The Anthropology of Honor and Shame: Culture, Values and Practice," in Honor and Shame in the World of the Bible (ed. Victor Matthews and Don Benjamin; Semeia 68;<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996) 143-44. Note also mention of Abu-Lughod's work in Weems, "Song of Songs," 366 n. 2.<br />37 Indeed, many have plausibly proposed that the Song of Songs may be one of the few biblical texts by a female author. Carol Meyers has argued persuasively that women were prominent musicians in ancient Israel ("The Drum-Dance-Song Ensemble: Women's Performance in Biblical Israel," in Rediscovering the Muses: Women's Musical Traditions [ed. Kimberly Marshall; Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1993] 49-67), and many have argued more specifically that the Song may have been written by a woman (see most recently Lacocque, Romance She Wrote, 39-53, with citations of some earlier proposals). But see the cautions of Exum, "Developing Strategies," 229-30.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />38 Fox, Song of Songs, 227-50 39 For discussion of some possible differences, see Frymer-Kensky, In the Wake of the Goddesses, 148-49.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />40 This saying is attributed to Rabbi Akiba in the Mekhilta (on Exod 15:2) and is often used as a key text for dating the beginning of an "allegorical" approach to the Song. Nevertheless, the saying is anonymous in Sifre (on Dent 33:2), and its attribution to Akiba in the Mekhilta may well be an attempt to link a famous interpretation to a sage already attested in early writings to have advocated the Song in general and nonliteral reading of it in particular. For the present purposes, it is enough to note the existence of this saying in two of the early midrashic collections.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />41 P. Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988) 162-76; Bernard McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism, vol. 1. of The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism (New York: Crossroad, 1990) 108-30, esp. 117-24.<br />42 Bernard of Clairvaux, On the Song of Songs I (trans. Kilian Walsh; Cistercian Fathers Series 4; Spencer, MA: Cistercian Publications, 1971) 54 (Sermon 9.1).<br />43 Mechthild von Magdeburg, Flowing Light of Divinity (trans. Christiane Mesch Galvani; ed. with an intro. by S. Clark; Garland Library of Medieval Literature; New York/London: Garland, 1991) 60.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />44 There are important exceptions. Traditional Christian allegorical interpretation of the Song had given divine overtones to the woman of the Song as representative of the preexistent church; the Marian liturgy and a growing tradition of Marian commentaries took the Song as being a dialogue between a divinized Mary and Christ upon her assumption into heaven; and Hildegard of Bingen made the brief suggestion that the Song of Songs was the song of love by Solomon when he received divine Sapientia, to whom "he spoke... as to a woman in the familiar language of love" (Book of Divine Works 5.39; translation from Barbara Newman, Sister of Wisdom: St, Hildegard's Theology of the Feminine [Berkeley/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press, 1987] 65). Particularly in the late-twelfth and thirteenth centuries we see more developed interpretations of the Song as speaking of feminine divinity in such texts as the poems in stanzas by Hadewijch of Brabant (e.g., 3:44; 12:67; 25:9; etc.) or use of the Song to depict various feminine components of divinity (e.g., the Shekinah) in the Zohar.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />45 Brenner similarly notes the tension between the depictions of the man and woman in the Song and conceptions of God and humanity in prophetic "marriage" texts like Hosea ("To See is to Assume," 273-75). As she rightly points out, many interpreters have resolved this tension by reading the woman of the Song as more passive than she appears in the Song and the man as more powerful. Still, in reading the Song allegorically, such interpreters had to wrestle with depictions of the man and woman that did not conform with their concepts of God and humanity.<br />46 For a recent intriguing proposal, see Martti Nissinen, "Love Lyrics of NaM and Tasmetu: An Assyrian Song of Songs?" in "Und Mose schrieb theses Lied auf": Studien zum Alten Testament und zum Alten Orient (Festschrift Oswald Loretz; ed. Manfried Dietrich and Ingo Kottsieper; Minster: Ugarit-Verlag, 1998) 585-634.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />47 For suggestive speculation on some Solomonic and other elements of the Song that might have been added to the text to buttress its (already) canonical authority in early Judaism, see Magne Sebo, "On the Canonicity of the Song of Songs," in Texts, Temples, and Traditions: A Tribute to Menahem Haran (ed. Michael Fox et al.; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1996) 267-77.<br />The term "theological" is used here and in the following to designate readings that see God as a character in the Song. Though the term "allegorical" is often used generally to designate such readings, it is not necessarily appropriate to early rabbinic Jewish interpretations (see Daniel Boyarin, Intertextuality and the Reading of Midrash [Indiana Studies in Biblical Literature; Bloom<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />ington/Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1990] 105-15) or to tropological and other forms of interpretation of the Song that do see God or a divine element in the Song, but do not see God's people-whether the church or people of Israel-as the other main character.<br />48 For example, in the dialogue of Nabu and Tasmetu linked by Nissinen to the Song of Songs ("Love Lyrics of Nabu and Tasmetu"), the gods are mentioned by name in lines 2-6, 11-12, 15, 17 and (r.) 9, 13, 15-16, 25.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />49 Notably, there is evidence that the twelfth-century Bengali poet Jayadeva in the Gita Govinda drew on Sanskrit courtly love poetry regarding humans to talk about devotion to Krishna, thus moving from human love poetry to divine eros. Two hundred years later, the poet Vidyapti used the spiritual love imagery of the Gita Govinda-as well as legends about Krishna and Radha in the Bhagavata Purina-as the departure point for poems about Krishna and Radha as images of ideal human eros (W. G. Archer, -Introduction," in idem, Love Songs of Vidyapati [London: Allen & Unwin, 1963] 23-36). Such shifts back and forth across the divine-human divide, along with examples of use of cultic love imagery in the Song of Songs (see Nissinen, "Love Lyrics of Nabi and Tasmetu") indicates how fluid ancient boundaries were between theological and nontheological use of erotic imagery.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Footnote]<br />50 Figures are from Wilfred Cantwell Smith, What Is Scripture? A Comparative Approach (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1993) 22-23 and 248-49 n. 4.<br /><br /><br /><br />[Author Affiliation]<br />DAVID CARR<br />dcarr@uts.columbia.edu Union Theological Seminary, New York, NY 10027</strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1116188733642368202004-05-21T13:22:00.000-07:002005-05-15T13:25:33.673-07:00Revealing and concealing as a narrative strategy in Solomon's judgement (1 Kings 3:16-28)<strong><br /><br /><img src="http://www.georgeglazer.com/prints/aanda/art-pre20/solomon.JPG"/><br /><br />Revealing and concealing as a narrative strategy in Solomon's judgement (1 Kings 3:16-28)<br /><br />Garsiel, Moshe<br />(ProQuest Information and Learning: Foreign characters omitted.) <br /><br />AT FIRST GLANCE, the rhetorical strategy of the narrative of Solomon's judgment in the Book of Kings keeps the listener/reader guessing until King Solomon proposes a nonconventional solution that indeed uncovers the true mother of the living baby. At the same time, the Bible seems to conceal which prostitute speaks the truth: the first one or the "other one." Nevertheless, a careful study of the rhetorical structure of the narrative, the dialogue, and the words of the narrator-- what he reveals and what he conceals-shows that the story does eventually reveal which of the two women is the true mother of the living child. <br /><br />I. Narration <br /><br />We will begin our analysis of this story by adopting the distinction made by Wayne C. Booth between the actual writer, the narrator, and the implied author. An actual writer-the composer of a particular narrative and perhaps other narratives-generally has a well- or lesser-known biography. At times he enables us to learn something about himself from his compositions or by other means. The narrator of a story is an instrument through which all information flows and through whom the narrative materials are transmitted. The implied author is a fictitious term that indicates someone responsible for the meanings, open or concealed, that can be derived from the text.1 <br /><br />Biblical writers are for the most part anonymous. But in J. Liver's opinion the actual, original writer responsible for the story of Solomon's Judgment, as well as for other stories that greatly extol Solomon's wisdom, was one of the wise men in King Solomon's court. The narratives that emphasize the wisdom of Solomon were apparently included in an earlier book called "The Book of the Acts of Solomon" (1 Kgs 11:41). At a later time, the stories were integrated into the Deuteronomistic edition of the Book of Kings.2 <br /><br />The narrator of Solomon's Judgment is responsible for the transmission of the text, whether he is recounting the series of events or citing the speeches of the characters involved. When he quotes the words of the characters, there arises an illusion that one is listening to the various dialogues spoken by the characters of the narrative. It is as if the words reflect the special point of view of those characters: fairly completely when they are presented as direct speech, or partially when they are given as indirect speech through the mediation of the narrator. Yet even the speech of a literary character is actually heard through the mouth of the narrator, from whom and by whose mediation all literary information flows, including the direct speech of the characters of the story. <br /><br />It is the implied author who has enabled the characters in the story to express themselves directly or indirectly and formulate their speeches; the implied author is therefore responsible for all of these, though using an agent, the narrator.3 Thus, the position of the implied author of our story can be crystallized through a reader's analysis of all parts and aspects of the text. <br /><br />II. The Significance of Solomon's Judgment according to the Narrator <br /><br />At this point, let us turn to the background and story of the judgment in the biblical text. The story of the judgment is integrated into the context of the last stage of the consolidation of Solomon's rule. The narrator first tells us that Solomon goes to Gibeon, where he is favored with a divine revelation in which he is promised wisdom greater than that of any human being (1 Kgs 3:4-15). Afterwards, Solomon returns to Jerusalem, the capital of his kingdom. There, he is called upon to judge two prostitutes, both of whom claim to be the mother of the same living child. In a brilliant manner, Solomon decides the case in favor of one of them and, as a result, becomes the ruler of the entire nation. The story concludes: "When all Israel heard the decision that the king rendered, they feared the king; for they saw that he possessed divine wisdom to execute justice" (1 Kgs 3:28). The narrator then adds to this a statement of outcome: "and King Solomon ruled over all Israel" (1 Kgs 4:1). <br /><br />The juxtaposition of the narratives in chap. 3 indicates stages in the evolution of Solomon's status: in his dream at Gibeon, the young king requests wisdom, primarily to do justice;4 and the Lord indeed promises him such wisdom. When he returns to Jerusalem, there occurs the trial of the two prostitutes, and in it he succeeds in demonstrating his unique divine wisdom in the realm of righteousness and justice; and so he finally establishes his status as king over all Israel, which is the conclusion of the story. The contextual links between the request for judicial wisdom, the case of the two women, and the recognition of Solomon as king over all Israel have been analyzed by early commentators and later researchers.5 <br /><br />The story of Solomon's trip to Gibeon and his dream is recorded also in 2 Chr 1:1-13, though with many changes in text, context, and significance. The major textual changes inform us that Solomon, in his dream at Gibeon, was promised wisdom in leadership wisdom and general wisdom. The author of Chronicles was primarily interested in linking the leadership and general wisdom granted to Solomon with the building of the temple in Jerusalem.6 This served as a special argument in his debate and that of the returnees from the Babylonian exile who settled in Jerusalem with their adversaries, the Samaritans, who built a temple on Mount Gerizim.7 Since the wisdom promised to Solomon was not limited to judicial wisdom, the narrator of Chronicles did not include the story of the two prostitutes, which mainly illustrated the king's judicial wisdom. <br /><br />In the narrative of Solomon's judgment in I Kings 3, the two women appear different in status. The first woman, the plaintiff, presents the case at length: she describes how the two of them have lived in one house and how she gave birth first and her adversary gave birth the third day afterwards. She emphasizes that there was no one else in the house at the time of the incident. She relates that the son of her adversary died during the night because his mother lay on him. She then describes what happened after that: while she was still sleeping, in the middle of the night her adversary rose and exchanged her own dead son for the live one. She herself discovered the deception in the morning. <br /><br />Her adversary, the defendant, neither denies nor confirms the details of the incident. She merely declares that her son is the live one and that the dead child belongs to the plaintiff. The plaintiff, for her part, once again claims the opposite. The discussion between them continues. Finally, Solomon summarizes the position of both sides and orders that the living child be cut in half, and that each woman be given half a child. One mother has compassion on her son and asks Solomon to give the infant to her adversary, whereas the adversary demands that the king's decree be carried out. Solomon changes his decision and rules in favor of the compassionate woman, who took pity on the living child. <br /><br />The story contains a number of gaps: the text does not reveal .if Solomon discerned, even before he ordered the division of the child, which one was the mother of the living child according to the appearance of the women before him or according to the way they presented their arguments. Similarly, the text does not explicitly declare who the mother of the living child was: the plaintiff or the defendant. These questions, among others, have been extensively treated by traditional commentators and by modern commentators and researchers. <br /><br />Josephus (A.J. 8.2.2 sec 26-34) thought that the plaintiff was the real mother but that Solomon was able to determine the truth of her claim only on the basis of the sword test. Isaac Abarbanel (1437-1508), on the other hand, thought that after listening to the arguments Solomon immediately discerned which one was the true mother and which the dissembler. The plaintiff describes the case in greater detail. She says that she gave birth first, and her adversary gave birth three days later. In this fashion, she hopes that the king will examine the children and discern who was born first and who was born later, and so reveal the truth. In contrast, the defendant speaks very briefly: she only presents the major aspects of her complaint, that the living child is hers and that the dead one belongs to her adversary. In Abarbanel's view, she was afraid to speak at length lest she err in her words. Thus, while the arguments are being presented, Solomon recognizes that the plaintiff is the real mother and that the defendant is lying. Solomon reveals his solution to his advisers, and only afterwards performs the test with the sword, so as to convince the advisers of the correctness of his decision and of his judicial ability.8 <br /><br />Rabbi Joseph Kara (1065-1135) maintained that it is possible to distinguish between a child who is a day old and one who is three days old. A day-old child is covered with congealed blood as a result of the pressure of the birth, whereas a three-day-old child's blood has already been absorbed into his body and the signs of congealed blood are disappearing.9 <br /><br />Radbaz (1480-1574) agreed with Abarbanel that Solomon had decided before the test of the sword that the plaintiff was the mother of the living child. Solomon observed that the facial characteristics of the living child were similar to those of the plaintiff, whereas the face of the dead child was similar to that of the defendant. Solomon also observed the character of the women: the first one was very careful and certainly did not kill her child by carelessness.10 <br /><br />Disagreeing with traditional commentators who view the plaintiff as the mother of the living child, M. L. Malbim (1809-1871) maintained that the defendant is the mother of the living child. He based his conclusion primarily on the fact that in her response to the complaint, the defendant opens her defense by stating that her child is the living one and only afterwards points out that the dead child is the son of her adversary. The plaintiff responds in the opposite manner (1 Kgs 3:22). In Malbim's view, the order in which the living child is mentioned by the two women indicates that the defendant is the true mother. She places the main point before the subsidiary one: first she notes that the living child is hers, and only then does she say that the dead child belongs to her adversary.11 <br /><br />To date, there are differences of opinion regarding whether or not, when the two women presented their arguments prior to the test with the sword, Solomon recognized who the true mother was, the plaintiff or the defendant. In the view of Ilya and Gila Leibowitz, as well as of Efraim Wizenberg, the defendant is the mother of the living child. Solomon could have decided this prior to the test, in accordance with the arguments of the women, because the plaintiff is able to tell precisely how the child died: his mother lay upon him. How could she know this if, according to her own words, she was asleep at the time? The answer is that she knew the cause of death inasmuch as she herself was the one who killed her son with her lack of care, and now, at the time of the trial, she tries to transfer the blame onto her companion.12 Similarly, the question of the order of reference, according to which the plaintiff mentions the dead child before the living child whereas the defendant does the opposite, reveals to Solomon that the plaintiff is the liar while the defendant is the mother of the living child. 13 In contrast, Gedalya and Josepha Rachman argue that the plaintiff is the true mother because her story is full of details that support her argument.14 <br /><br />Subsequent researchers transferred their interest from this question to the problem of communication and the nature of the relationship between the author and the readers. Does the author, in the manner of recounting the story, lead us to the conclusion regarding the identity of the true mother? And at which stages and by what means does the author manage to do so? Many answers have been offered to this question. According to one view, the author leads us to the conclusion that the plaintiff is speaking the truth and that she is the true mother of the living child. Indeed, she is the one who wins the case, and her son is returned to her.15 According to the opposite view, the narrator hints that it is the defendant who is the mother of the living child and that Solomon recognizes that fact by means of the test with the sword.16 Still another view maintains that the author does not support either identification. From the dramatic development of the narrative, it is impossible to determine which woman speaks the truth. The reader remains in the dark, without any knowledge, and Solomon arrives at a solution only by tactic of the test; and even after the decision, the reader cannot clearly decide who won the living child, the plaintiff or the defendant.17 <br /><br />III. The Narrative Structure and Strategy <br /><br />As we noted at the beginning, we are convinced the reader can eventually determine, by means of detailed investigation into the rhetorical structure of the different stages of the story, the words of the narrator, and the interwoven dialogues of the characters of the narrative, that the plaintiff is the true mother of the living child whereas the defendant is the mother of the dead child. <br /><br />A. Vocabulary <br /><br />Let us first examine the significance of some of the vocabulary used in the story. The narration opens with an exposition by the narrator: <br /><br />... <br /><br />"Later two prostitutes came to the king and stood before him." (1 Kgs 3:16) <br /><br />In the previous story, which relates Solomon's request at Gibeon for wisdom, he is always referred to as "Solomon." However, in our story he is referred to only by his title "the king," for he functions as the royal dispenser of justice. The two underlined verbs, "[they] came" and "and [they] stood before him," link the story of the judgment of Solomon with the conclusion of Solomon's dream in the previous verse (3:15), which concluded with those same two verbs: <br /><br />... <br /><br />"Then Solomon awoke: it was a dream! He went (lit. came) to Jerusalem and stood before the ark of the Lord." <br /><br />Likewise, the two stories have in common the verbs from the roots ... and ... (3:9, 11, 28).18 So, too, the two narratives have in common the word ..., "and behold" (vv. 15, 21). The common terminology links the two narratives associatively19 and places them within the literary genre of dreams and their realization, which is widespread in the Bible. In Solomon's dream, the king is promised judicial wisdom, and immediately on his return to Jerusalem he is able to demonstrate that God has indeed granted him divine wisdom in order to see to it that justice is carried out. <br /><br />B. The Two Adversaries <br /><br />At the beginning of the story the implied author, by means of a messenger, the narrator, grants equal status and anonymity to the two women. They are defined as "women" and as "prostitutes," and they come together and stand before the king equally, neither of them being identified or characterized. This state changes quickly. The implied author lets one of them speak first; she appears as the plaintiff and presents her case before the king [and the readers] in detail and relatively at length. Thus, the plaintiff acquires a preferential status over the defendant, based on a psychological-literary convention. Within the framework of a text, whoever is granted the right to speak first and at length, and uses this right to describe the case and develop arguments in detail, has a better chance of convincing the audience of the justice of his or her claim. In contrast, the one who speaks afterwards, and whose words are curt and limited, appears less convincing. <br /><br />Of course, this is not an absolute indicator that the plaintiff is speaking the truth. S. Lasine brings proof that the length of the speech of one litigant as against the short speech of the other litigant is not a guarantee that the first litigant is correct.20 In principle, he is right. Nevertheless, there is a widespread tendency among readers to use such characterizations as a means to identify the one who is telling the truth. One cannot ignore the fact that providing the plaintiff with a platform to present the case in detail counts in her favor. This occurs elsewhere in the Bible. For example, when Samuel and the people discuss appointing a king in Israel, the implied author gives preferential status to the prophet, and Samuel's advantage is emphasized in the lengthy and well-formed speech that the narrator puts into his mouth (1 Sam 8:11-18). This contrasts markedly with the short, succinct response of the people (vv. 19-20).21 <br /><br />a. The Plaintiffs Case <br /><br />At the start of the trial, the plaintiff turns to the king. She begins with the phrase ..., "Please, my lord" (1 Kgs 3:17). This phrase denotes submission, request, and supplication; it is a formula by means of which a person of lower status addresses a ruler.22 In the course of her speech, the plaintiff refers to herself as ..., "your maidservant," as a wise woman would when addressing a ruler or king. Compare, for example, 1 Sam 25:24, 25, 28, 31; 2 Sam 14:15, 16; 20:17. These polite, submissive expressions by the prostitute, who is normally considered to be of low social status, add points in her favor in the eyes of the reader.23 <br /><br />The woman begins to present her case with great clarity: "I and this woman dwelt in one house, and I gave birth with her in the house" (3:17). In noting that they dwelt in the same house and that at the time of the birth the second woman was also in the house, the plaintiff wishes to emphasize that the second woman knows that the plaintiffs child was born first. Then the plaintiff describes the birth of the second child: "On the third day after I gave birth, this woman also gave birth to a child. We were alone; and there was no one else with us in the house, just the two of us in the house" (3:18). By once more emphasizing that the two of them were alone in the house for both births and that no stranger was present, the woman stresses that the incidents occurred in the presence of both of them and no one else. No other person knew anything about what happened, and thus there were no witnesses to call. Nor was there a stranger who knew about the birth and could thus be involved in the exchange of the live child for the dead one. The absence of other people in the home of the two prostitutes is not ironic and does not detract from the credibility of the story.24 Indeed, one must remember that the two women were at an advanced stage of pregnancy and afterwards gave birth, so that their physical condition kept potential clients at a distance.25 The description of the background and the events by the plaintiff creates for the reader a momentary impression of harmony between two women, since they live together in the same house and are closely associated in their lives, even in the births of their infants. <br /><br />However, this harmony and association break down in the next stage of the plaintiff's discourse. She chooses her words with relative delicacy; she does not specifically say that the defendant killed her son but states that the baby died as a result of an accident, when his mother lay upon him. Indeed, this does not reflect a difference in the actual description of the act, but only the plaintiffs attempt to speak neutrally when explaining how she thinks the tragedy occurred. The plaintiff continues to describe how the defendant then rose during the night, took the son of the plaintiff, who was asleep, and placed the live baby in her own bosom. She then placed the dead son in the bosom of the plaintiff. The latter is very meticulous in her language. She herself had been very careful to place her baby nearby on the bed, so that the defendant took him ..., "from beside me" (e.g., Gen 41:3; Lev 10:12). In contrast, the defendant acted differently when she exchanged the children. She placed the living child ..., "in her [own] bosom," and the dead child ..., "in my bosom" (that is, of the plaintiff). Placing the child in the bosom means linking it to the body (e.g., 2 Sam 12:3; 1 Kgs 1:2). <br /><br />This distinction, in the view of the plaintiff, shows that she herself was careful in that she customarily placed her son nearby, though not linked to her body, whereas the defendant placed the two infants joined to the body of the two mothers. Indeed, earlier that night the accident was caused because the defendant placed her child in her bosom. It is possible to claim that the defendant placed the dead child in the bosom of the plaintiff so that the plaintiff would mistakenly assume that she had suffocated or crushed the dead child in her sleep. But the defendant repeated her earlier mistake when she placed the living child, whom she had stolen, in her own bosom. Though she may have placed the living child as close as possible to herself for fear that her adversary would come and take back the living child, her deed nonetheless endangered the life of the kidnapped child. <br /><br />Commentators and researchers have noted internal contradictions in the plaintiff's speech. If, as she maintains, she was asleep when the tragic event occurred as well as during its aftermath, how did she know that her adversary caused the death of her son by lying upon him, and how did she know that her adversary exchanged the children?26 It is not difficult to answer these questions. The plaintiff offers a logical deduction and an acceptable explanation as to how the son of her adversary suddenly died at night and how the children were found in the wrong mother's care. Since there was no stranger in the house during the time of the action, the plaintiff solves the riddle by accusing her neighbor, the defendant, based on where she customarily placed a baby: in the mother's bosom.27 Indeed, the implied author creates an interesting analogy between two riddle solvers: (1) the woman who solves the riddle by reconstructing the criminal act of the defendant, even though she, the plaintiff, was asleep at the time; and (2) Solomon, who adopts the arguments of the plaintiff and successfully solves the riddle to the satisfaction of the people. <br /><br />The plaintiff describes the series of events step by step and clearly. After her companion exchanged the children, the plaintiff arose in the morning to nurse her son, and she was surprised to discover ..., "behold, he was dead." The word ... is an elliptical term, an abbreviation of the expression "and I saw, and behold."28 In many cases in the Bible, the word "behold" expresses the speaker's viewpoint,29 especially the speaker's surprise. The plaintiff was surprised that a dead child lay in her bosom. The plaintiff continues to describe the next stage: <br /><br />... <br /><br />"But when I looked closely at him in the morning, [lit., and behold] it was not the son I had borne." (v. 21) <br /><br />Actually, the plaintiff waited for the light of the morning in order to view her son, and she was surprised again when she saw that the child in her bosom was not her son. This surprise finds expression once again with the use of the word .... <br /><br />The survey of events, stage after stage, with attention paid to details, gives the plaintiff an advantage in the struggle for the sympathy of the listeners present at this dramatic legal event as well as of the readers. Indeed, there are those who note the plaintiff's repetitiousness and link it either to her emotional involvement or to her being a woman of low status, a commoner.30 However, repetitions in speech are characteristic of biblical literature and of early Semitic literature in general. They are an integral part of speeches of wise women such as Abigail (1 Sam 25:24-31), the wise woman of Tekoah (2 Sam 14:4-20), and the wise woman from Abel Beth-maacah (2 Sam 20:16-19). <br /><br />In our view, the plaintiffs is a carefully thought out and planned speech with regard to both the vocabulary and the significance of her part of the dialogue.31 The plaintiff repeats the word "house" four times; it is a key or guiding word (LeitworT): "This woman and I live in the same house ..., and I gave birth to a child while she was in the house (...).... We were alone; and there was no one else in the house (...), just the two of us in the house" (...) (vv. 17-18). Repetition of the word "house" shows the closeness that originally existed between the women. Whenever it is mentioned, the plaintiff emphasizes the close association of the two women, which includes the fact that they gave birth at about the same time in the same house. The house is more than a roof over their heads; it symbolizes unity and linkage. Elsewhere in the Bible, the term "house" also signifies family (e.g., Exod 1:1). It is easy to comprehend why the plaintiff feels betrayed by her companion, who destroyed the close relationship between the two when she exploited the fact that the two were alone in that house to exchange the children. <br /><br />One should also note that darkness is associated with the defendant but light with the plaintiff. There is a dual use of the word ..., "night," in the description of the negative actions of the defendant: "During the night this woman's child died, because she lay on it. She arose in the night and she took my son from my side" (vv. 19-20). The defendant acted at night: first, she acted with lack of care when she caused the death of the child; afterwards, under the cover of darkness, she committed a criminal act by exchanging the children. <br /><br />In contrast, light is associated with the plaintiff. The word ..."in the morning," appears twice in connection with the activities of the plaintiff: "When I arose in the morning to nurse my son, there [lit., and behold] he was dead; but when I looked closely in the morning, it was not the son I had borne" (v. 21). The plaintiff woke up in the morning to nurse her son. She is pictured as a responsible woman who is devoted to her son and wants his well-being, so she arose very early in order to nurse him, even before the child began crying. She was then surprised to find him lifeless. She again examined him when there was more light, so that she could see his facial features clearly. <br /><br />The structural contrast between the night, which signifies the defendant's actions, and the morning, which signifies the plaintiffs actions, emphasizes the different character of the women. Similarly, the repetition of the word CIP, "to arise," emphasizes the difference between the two of them: whereas the defendant arose in the night to exchange the children (v. 20), the plaintiff arose in the morning to nurse her son (v. 21). There can be no doubt that the plaintiff wins the interest and sympathy of the reader by reason of her manner and her detailed descriptions. <br /><br />b. The Defendant's Case <br /><br />Now comes the defendant's turn to reply to the plaintiffs accusations and to try to win the sympathy of the king and the others present. Will she succeed in obtaining their sympathy as well as the sympathy of the reader? <br /><br />Through the narrator, the implied author presents the defendant as ... ..., "the other woman" (v. 22). I have not found among the commentators anyone who has commented on the meaning of this epithet, perhaps because they considered it a simple, technical remark. The first woman is referred to as ..., "one woman" (v. 17); afterwards, permission to speak is granted to the second woman, who is called "the other woman," rather than "the second woman." Is there any significance to the author's specific choice of the phrase "the other woman" to describe the defendant? <br /><br />The phrase ..., "another woman," occurs only twice elsewhere in the Bible. The first occurrence is in Judg 11:2, where it is told that Yiftah, son of Gilead, was the son of a prostitute. When he grew up, his stepbrothers, the sons of Gilead's legitimate wife, informed Yiftah, "you will not inherit in our father's house, for you are the son of another woman." The connotation of "another woman" brings out the lack of legitimacy of that woman and of her son. They are therefore ostracized by the legitimate family and denied the rights of inheritance, in contrast to the legitimate wife and her sons. <br /><br />The second occurrence of this phrase is 1 Chr 2:26, where it is said: "Jerahmeel had another woman." The text distinguishes between the legitimate sons of Jerahmeel, from his legitimate wife, and those who were born of another woman and are of lower status with regard to tribal identity and inheritance. Indeed, the lower status of Jerahmeel's family is reflected here among the families of the tribe of Judah. Apparently, the families of Jerahmeel were foreigners who joined families of the tribe of Judah but were of a lower status.32 In these two cases the term "other woman" is a derogatory description of a woman of lower social status. The derogatory description of the defendant in the story of the judgment of Solomon as "the other woman" is an additional hint from the implied author that the second woman was of lower status than the first woman. The implied author thus hints at his preference for the first one. <br /><br />Now "the other woman," the defendant, responds. Again, direct speech is used, and we note the blatant difference between her words and those of her predecessor. Whereas the plaintiff opened her speech in a submissive manner and addressed the king directly, "Please, my lord," the defendant speaks directly to her rival, disregarding the king and his nobles, and making no submissive introduction. One also notices that her words are much briefer than those of her predecessor: she does not relate to or respond at all to the plaintiffs description of events. Her response is limited to the declaration that the living son is hers and the dead one is her companion's. Her unmannerly behavior lessens greatly the sympathy of the readers toward her. One scholar even compares her behavior to that of a "fishwife."33 <br /><br />The defendant speaks briefly, concentrating only on the ownership of the sons. Hence, her disregard for the plaintiff's detailed description of events leads one to suspect that the defendant fears her tongue will trip her up, and her mouth will give away her deceitful action.34 At this stage of the narrative, the implied author leads the reader to surmise that the plaintiff is speaking the truth whereas the defendant is lying. But in fact, there is nothing in the words of the two women thus far that absolutely proves, or is legally acceptable proof, that the first one speaks the truth and the second one is lying.35 Nevertheless, the rhetoric and the hints that are integrated into the text in both the voice of the narrator and the embedded direct speeches of the adversaries turn the sympathy of the readers in favor of the plaintiff and cause them to surmise that the defendant is guilty of exchanging the children and that she spoke falsely in a court of justice. <br /><br />c. A Second Round of Arguments <br /><br />In the second round of arguments, however, there is a considerable drop in the absolute sympathy that the readers feel for the plaintiff and in their readiness to guess the solution to the riddle and decide that the defendant is guilty of exchanging the children and lying before the king. This drop in sympathy results when the plaintiff loses her self-control after listening to the defendant. Now she, too, disregards the presence of the king. She responds directly to the defendant, reversing the words of her adversary in structure (which is chiastic) and content: <br /><br />... <br /><br />"And this one spoke, 'No, your son is the dead one, and my son is the live one.'" (v. 22) <br /><br />The acrimonious exchange between the plaintiff and the defendant and their complete disregard for the king, for judicial procedure, and for conventionally obligatory manners in the presence of the king create, at this late stage, the appearance of a common or lower status for the two adversaries. The plaintiff loses part of the sympathy she had won in the opening stage, when she presented her side of the case with submission and good manners, at length and clearly, and with a thoughtful literary structure. The narrator continues: "and they spoke before the king." This summary indicates that the adversaries continued their arguments on the legal situation before the king. The short summation with which the implied author decided to end the accusatory exchanges between the rivals hints that the rivals have reached the stage where they repeat themselves or introduce irrelevant details. This enables the author to waive the need to cite their words directly or indirectly. Instead, by means of the narrator's voice, he briefly intimates that a fruitless discussion and lack of progress ensued, which increases the suspense and paves the way for Solomon's solution. <br /><br />C. Solomon's Verdict <br /><br />Solomon begins with a summation of the adversaries' arguments that further diminishes the reader's early sympathy toward the plaintiff. "The king said, `This one says, "this is my son, the live one, and your son is the dead one," and this one says, "No, your son is the dead one, and my son is the live one" ' " (v. 23). It is difficult to know to which of the two women Solomon refers in each of the two parts of his short summation of the adversaries' arguments. On the surface, in the first part he cites the "other woman," the defendant, the one who, in her argument, maintains that her son is the live one and that the son of her adversary is the dead one; such is, indeed, the order of Solomon's words. But it is possible that the king changes the structure of the adversaries' words and that he does not cite exactly what they said and in the same order. Instead, he may have inverted the order of their words in chiastic form, as occurs many times in biblical texts. The wording of the text is inconclusive. Moreover, it is possible that Solomon summarizes the two women's arguments in the order of their appearance at the trial. Thus, he refers to the plaintiff in the first part, because she was the one who presented the case first, whereas he summarizes the defendant's response to the charges in the second part.36 <br /><br />In any case, Solomon sums up the arguments in a balanced manner without revealing a preference for either one of the adversaries. This heightens the suspense. It brings the readers, who may have played with the thought that they have succeeded in discerning that the plaintiff is speaking the truth, to a stage of confusion and doubt regarding the problem of who is really speaking the truth? The situation at this stage is almost a stalemate, and the plaintiff now receives less sympathy from the readers than previously, although she still has a relative advantage over the defendant because of her impressive presentation at the beginning of the trial. <br /><br />In the next stage, the narrator brings us to the climax with a description of the deed of judgment (v. 24). This stage is marked by the double use of ... "and [the king] said," related to the same speaker at the beginning of two sentences in a row-a device used frequently in the Hebrew Bible. First, the narrator presents Solomon's quotation of the similar claims of the women, preceded by "and the king said" (v. 23). When the king issues the command to bring him a sword, the formula "and the king said" is repeated despite the fact that the speaker has not changed. In many biblical texts, this technique intimates a break between one speech and another by the same speaker.37 In the case before us, it expresses a time out for thinking and a break between the summation of the arguments by Solomon and the stage of his command to bring the sword. <br /><br />Moreover, the double occurrence of "and the king said" creates a dramatic pause that whets the curiosity of the reader: How will Solomon solve a case of such complexity? The dramatic tension is heightened even more when the king's brief command is heard: "Bring me a sword," and the sword is brought and placed before the king (v. 24). The observers at the trial as well as the readers do not understand why the young king suddenly needs the sword. The tension mounts and reaches a climax. At this point, the narrator does not slow down the pace. The sentences are short, followed by the command to execute the decision: "and the king said, 'Cut the living child into two and give half to one and half to the other'" (v. 25). The implied author does not permit his readers to wonder: Does the king, the young lad, really know what he is doing? <br /><br />At this point the true mother breaks down. The narrator does not reveal if the true mother is the plaintiff or the defendant, but from the standpoint of an omniscient narrator and with a penetrating glance into the depths of the soul of the true mother, he characterizes her as "the woman whose son was the live one ... because she had pity on her son" (v. 26a). When the narrator reveals her identity, he describes what is happening in her soul at the same time, and even explains the motive that brought her to waive her rights to her son. Only afterwards does he describe how she addressed her request to the king and his court: <br /><br />... <br /><br />"and she said, 'Please my lord, give her the live child, do not kill him."' (v. 26b) <br /><br />Here, too, in the two parts of v. 26, the word ..., "and she said," is repeated in reference to the true mother without the speaker being changed. According to one view, this repetition expresses the confusion of the true mother when she hears the command to kill her baby. At first she is silent, but then she manages to recover quickly and act to save her son. This moment of confusion and silence finds expression in the doubling of ..., "and she said," before she actually speaks.31 According to another explanation, the intervention of the narrator in the identification of the woman, the penetration to her soul, and the explanation of her motives creates a closed sentence that necessitates a Wiederaufnahme, that is, a return to the path and flow of the story by verbal repetition. The doubling of ... serves this purpose; it links the two parts of the dialogue that were disturbed by the narrator's parenthetical remark.39 <br /><br />The true mother, clearly identified by the intervention of the narrator, speaks again, reverting to her submissive, mannerly approach to the king, ..., "Please, my lord" (v. 26), which were the opening words of the plaintiffs speech at the start of the trial (v. 17a). This strengthens the conclusion that the mannerly plaintiff is the one called the merciful mother at the end of the trial, The implied author also helps the reader reach this final identification by comparing the women in the concluding stage. The true mother is mannerly, addresses the king and his court in a submissive manner, and does everything in her power not to antagonize the king and his court in order to prevent her infant from being killed. Moreover, she is prepared even to waive her complaint and to leave her son in the kidnapper's hands. <br /><br />In contrast, the lying kidnapper acts grossly. She does not address the king and his court submissively, as is obligatory under the circumstances. On the contrary, she again completely disregards the presence of the king and his court. She addresses her adversary, the true mother, directly, briefly, and cruelly, without expressing humane emotions. Her speech contains six words, five consisting of one syllable, and the concluding word consisting of two: <br /><br />..., "It shall be neither yours nor mine!"40 <br /><br />Then, with a single word, she commands that the execution be carried out: "Cut" (v. 26). The kidnapper acts as if she has the authority to approve the king's decree and to order execution of the decree.41 Indeed, this is an extremely rare case in the Bible where a person of lower social status gives a command in the presence of the king to his servants to carry out his decision.42 <br /><br />The readers, who already at the beginning of the trial distinguished between the different characters of the plaintiff and the defendant, are satisfied when, at the conclusion of the process, it becomes clear to them that their early impressions are proved correct. The mannerly plaintiff is indeed the mother of the living child, whereas the crass defendant, who continued even at the concluding stages to act unmannerly and cruelly, is a kidnapper and the mother of the dead child. <br /><br />IV. Conclusion <br /><br />There are a number of options for an author who develops a narrative that contains characteristics of a legal riddle and a detective story.43 <br /><br />(1) The author can formulate the story utilizing vagueness, deception, and a red herring to point the readers to the wrong solution. This method is widespread in modern detective stories in which the author deliberately directs suspicion against various characters in the story; only at the end of the narrative does it become clear to the readers that the suspicious characters are free of all wrongdoing, while the very quiet, sympathetic character is the actual criminal. By means of this narrative technique, the author teases and maintains a superior position to the readers, who toil to solve the riddle but are led astray by the author's hints. It finally becomes clear to them how much the author has teased them and led them in wrong directions. The author of the story of Solomon's Judgment did not choose to follow this path. <br /><br />(2) A contrasting option is one in which the implied author, by means of an all-knowing narrator, lets the readers participate from the beginning in solving the riddle. The narrator, who points to the suspect and the latter's motives, enables the reader to be a partner in relevant knowledge from the beginning. In fact, the reader is likely to know more than the main hero, the detective, or the bright lawyer who toils to solve the riddle. <br /><br />Formulating a narrative in this fashion very much diminishes the narrative tension. The reader knows the solution from the beginning and is much wiser than the hero of the story, who faces surprises in the course of solving the riddle. The author of the story of Solomon did not choose this option, either. <br /><br />(3) The third option is to tell the story neutrally and objectively. The author who chooses this approach neither divulges hints that lead the reader in the direction of innocent people nor deceives the readers into thinking that the criminal is an upright and law-abiding person, as in option 1 above. Nor does this author volunteer signs or decisive proofs that point directly at the criminal already in the early stages of the story, as in option 2 above. On the contrary, the author tries to develop the story by removing all hints that will enable the reader to identify the upright character or the criminal. Even a story of this sort creates a distance between the story and the reader. The reader is interested in becoming a partner and companion to the story, always searching for hints and indications in the narrative so as to form an opinion on the characters and their true value. The author of Solomon's Judgment did not choose even this neutral manner, though many commentators and researchers feel that he did. <br /><br />An author could take an integrated approach, using one technique at the beginning and shifting to another during the course of the story. In my opinion, the author of Solomon's judgment chose this combined approach. The plaintiff opens the presentation of the incident. Her manners and skill at description, which find expression in her well-thought-out opening speech and her conclusion, provide her with an advantage. In contrast, the defendant is defined as "the other woman" by the implied author, who thus hints at the lack of legitimacy of her status in comparison with the one who appeared first. In addition, the implied author has her respond only very briefly. Her presentation is not convincing. She does not address the king as is obligatory in a judicial situation, but addresses her rival directly; she does not relate or respond to the details of the event as described by her adversary, but determines absolutely that the living child is hers and that the dead one belongs to her rival. Until this stage in the narrative, the implied author inclines the readers to view the mannerly and fluent plaintiff as the true mother and the crass defendant as the kidnapper. But this stage of the story could have an unsatisfactory outcome: the readers are likely to reach a negative opinion of Solomon's solution and his wisdom since even they can guess which mother is speaking the truth and which one is the liar. Therefore, the author directs the readers not to be hasty in their enthusiasm and decision in favor of the plaintiff. <br /><br />In the second round of arguments, the plaintiff is affected by her rival's manner. The latter ignores the fact that she is in the midst of a judicial proceeding before the king and his court and enters into a direct dialogue with her opponent. The king's summation of the mothers' words brings the reader to a more careful reevaluation. The plaintiff has a relative advantage, but the legal status is still complex and a creative solution is called for. <br /><br />Solomon indeed arrives at a nonconventional solution to uncover the truth and reveal the identity of the true mother. It becomes clear to the reader after catching the hints, especially that of the opening formula "Please, my lord," which is used twice-at the beginning of the story and at the end-that the plaintiff is speaking the truth: she is the mother of the living child, whereas the defendant is the kidnapper. <br /><br />The intelligent reader has enjoyed being a partner in the solution. Solomon solved the riddle in an unconventional manner; the reader, by means of literary analysis, can solve the additional riddle presented by the narrator: Which of the two women, the plaintiff or the defendant, gains the living child based on Solomon's decision? This narrative strategy of revealing and concealing who is the true mother and who is the guilty party activates the readers to participate in the effort of solving the riddle, and to enjoy themselves upon its solution. <br /><br />1 W C. Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961) 71-76; J. Ewen, "Writer, Narrator, and Implied Author" (in Hebrew), Hasifrut 18-19 (1974) 137-63 (English <br /><br />abstract, pp. vii-ix). M. Sternberg (The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading [Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1987] 74-75) prefers to refer to the narrator in his analyses of biblical storytelling, and he does not make use of the distinction between narrator and implied author; in his opinion, both merge into one in the biblical narrative. <br /><br />2 J. Liver, "The Book of the Acts of Solomon," Bib 68 (1967) 75-101. <br /><br />3 For a different view, see Ellen Van Wolde, "Who Guides Whom? Embeddedness and Perspective in Biblical Hebrew and in 1 Kings 3:16-28," JBL 114 (1995) 623-42. <br /><br />4 J. A. Montgomery and H. S. Gehman, The Books of Kings (ICC; Edinburgh: Clark, 1967) 107; J. Gray, I & 11 Kings: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM, 1970) 126; M. Noth, Konige (BKAT; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1968) 51; R. B. Y. Scott, "Solomon and the Beginnings of Wisdom in Israel," in Wisdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East (ed. M. Noth and D. W. Thomas; VTSup 3; Leiden: Brill, 1955) 262-79. <br /><br />5 Among earlier commentators, see R. David Kimchi (1160?-]235?) on 1 Kgs 3:16; 41; R. Joseph Kara on 1 Kgs 3:15-16; in Miqraot Gedolot-Haketer (in Hebrew; ed. M. Kohen; Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1995) 25; R. Isaac Abarbanel (1437-1508) on I Kgs 3:16; 4:1, in Commentary on Early Prophets (in Hebrew; Jerusalem: Torah and Daat edition) 481-83. Later researchers include S. Zalevsky, Solomon's Ascension to the Throne: Studies in the Books of Kings and Chronicles (in Hebrew; Jerusalem: Marcus, 1981) 188-92; M. Garsiel, "Solomon's Travel to Gibeon and his Dream," in B. Ben Yehuda Jubilee Volume (ed. B. Lourie; Tel Aviv: Society for Biblical Research, 1981) 192, 195; N. Ararat, Drama in the Bible (in Hebrew; Jerusalem: World Jewish Bible Center, 1996) 291-92, 295. <br /><br />6 For an in-depth discussion of the significance of the changes in the description of the dream in the Book of Chronicles as well as the reason for the omission of the trial of the women, see Garsiel, "Solomon's Travel To Gibeon," 206-10. <br /><br />7 For the anti-Samaritan tendency of the Book of Chronicles, see M. Garsiel, "The Structure and Contents of Chronicles as a Veiled Polemic against the Samaritans," in Jerusalem and the Land of Israel (ed. J. Schwartz et al.; Tel Aviv: Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies & Eretz-Israel Museum, 2000) 42-60. <br /><br />Abarbanel on 1 Kings 3, in Commentary on the Early Prophets, 481-82. <br /><br />9 Commentary of Rabbi Joseph Qara to the Book of Kings 25 (in Hebrew). <br /><br />10 R. David ibn Zimra, Responsa of the Radbaz, Part 2 (in Hebrew; ed. B. Zetzer and N. Shriftgisser; Warsaw, 1882) Responsum 634, pp. 128-29. <br /><br />11 Miqraot Gedolot (in Hebrew; Beney Beraq: Hameir Le-Yisrael, 1998). <br /><br />12 E. and G. Leibowitz, "Solomon's Judgment" (in Hebrew), Beth Mikra 35 (1990) 242-44; E. Y. Wizenberg, "Solomon's Judgment" (in Hebrew), Niv Hamidrashia 9-10 (1973) 41-42. <br /><br />13 Ibid. This argument was raised already by Malbim (see n. 11). <br /><br />14 G. and Y. Rahaman, "Solomon's Judgment" (in Hebrew), Beth Mikra 38 (1992) 91-94. <br /><br />15 B. O. Long, 1 Kings: With an Introduction to Historical Literature (FOTL 9; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984) 67-70; H. C. Brichto, Toward a Grammar of Biblical Poetics: Tales of the Prophets (New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992) 47-63; Zalevsky, Solomon's Ascension to the Throne, 206. <br /><br />16 G. A. Rendsburg, "The Guilty Party in I Kings III 16-28," VT 48 (1998) 534-41. <br /><br />17 Stemberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative, 66-70; Van Wolde, "Who Guides Whom?" 623-42; S. Lasine, "Solomon, Daniel, and the Detective Story: The Social Functions of a Literary Genre," HAR 11 (1987) 247-51; idem, "The Riddle of Solomon's Judgment and the Riddle of Human Nature in the Hebrew Bible," JSOT 45 (1989) 61-86; A. Reinhartz, "Anonymous Women and the Collapse of the Monarchy: A Study in Narrative Technique," in A Feminist Companion to Samuel and Kings (ed. A. Brenner; The Feminist Companion to the Bible 5; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994) 53-54. <br /><br />18 B. Porten, "The Structure and Theme of the Solomon Narrative (I Kings 3-11)," HUCA 38 (1967) 99-100; Zalevsky, Solomon's Ascension to the Throne, 191-92. <br /><br />19 On linking sections in biblical literature by means of linguistic associations, see U. Cassuto, Biblical and Oriental Studies (2 vols.; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1973- ) 1. 1-6. <br /><br />20 See Lasine, "Riddle of Solomon's Judgment," 61-69; idem, "Solomon, Daniel, and the Detective Story," 247-51. <br /><br />21 See M. Garsiel, "Samuel's Speech Pertaining `the Custom of the King"' (in Hebrew), Hagut Bamikra, vol. 5 (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1988) 112-36. <br /><br />22 See Gen 43:2; 44:18; Exod 4:10, 13; Num 12:11; Josh 7:5; Judg 6:13, 16; 1 Sam 1:26. For this expression and the various views as to its etymology, see M. J. Mulder, I Kings (Historical Commentary on the Old Testament; Leuven: Peeters, 1998- ) 1. 155. <br /><br />23 Lasine ("Riddle of Solomon's Judgment," 80 n. 11), however, does not regard a mannerly and humble opening as an indicator accurate enough to identify the one who is telling the truth. <br /><br />24 Contra W. A. M. Beuken, "No Wise King Without a Wise Woman (I Kings III 16-28)," in New Avenues in the Study of the Old Testament: A Collection... Published on the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Oudtestamentisch Werkgezellschap (ed. A. S. van der Woude; OTS 25; Leiden: Brill, 1989) 6; K. A. Deurloo, "The King's Wisdom in Judgment: Narration as Example (I Kings iii)," ibid., 17. <br /><br />25 P. A. Bird, "The Harlot as Heroine: Narrative Art and Social Presupposition in Three Old Testament Texts," Semeia 46 (1989) 119-39, here 132. <br /><br />26 Many commentators and researchers noted this contradiction. See, e.g., Wizenberg, "Solomon's Judgment," 41-42; Leibowitz, "Solomon's Judgment," 243; J. T. Walsh, "The Characterization of Solomon in First Kings 1-5," CBQ 57 (1995) 471-93, here 479. The Septuagint omits the admission of the plaintiff that she was asleep in the course of events that she describes. The translators omitted the phrase "and your maidservant was asleep," because they thought that the plaintiff was the true mother of the living child and thus they sought to eliminate the contradiction. See Lasine, "Riddle of Solomon's Judgment," 67. <br /><br />27 See S. J. de Vries, I Kings (WBC; Waco, TX: Word, 1985) 59. <br /><br />28 S. Kogut, "On the Meaning and Syntactical Status of i3 in Biblical Hebrew," in Studies in Bible (ed. S. Japhet; ScrHier 31; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1986) 133-54. <br /><br />29 A. Berlin, Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative (Sheffield: Almond, 1983) 62, 91-95. <br /><br />30 B. Uffenheimer, Ancient Prophecy in Israel (in Hebrew; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1984) 253. <br /><br />31 See the detailed and well-reasoned discussion by Zalevsky, Solomon's Ascension to the Throne, 195-98. <br /><br />32 See J. Liver, "Yerahme'el" (in Hebrew), Encyclopaedia Biblica, vol. 3 (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1958) 861-63. <br /><br />33 Brichto, Grammar of Biblical Poetics, 52. <br /><br />34 Abarbanel, in the introduction to this story. <br /><br />35 Lasine ("Riddle of Solomon's Judgment," 64, 68-69, 78, 80) offered many examples that show that mannerly speech and detailed, well-constructed testimony by litigants in court do not necessarily show the correctness of those who speak this way. The danger exists that smooth-talking people will deceive a court. Despite this, judges are accustomed to listening to the speeches of litigants and witnesses, to observing their character, and at times to deciding according to their impression as to who is speaking the truth and who is not. But legal standards are not the issue at hand when one is dealing with a literary analysis, as is the case here. The issue is not what constitutes admissible testimony in a court of law but what rhetorical means and literary stratagems the narrator might have used to secure the reader's sympathy and appreciation towards various characters in the story. The criteria of literary analysis for deciding truth are different from those used in ancient or modern courts. <br /><br />36 Compare Rendsburg, "Guilty Party in I Kings III, 16-28," who maintains that it is possible to recognize the lying mother by means of an identity tag provided by the narrator, namely, rTI ... (... + conjunctive waw), "and this one says." The narrator attaches this tag to the lying mother in v. 26b; but before this, it was attached to the plaintiff in v. 22b, and again to the plaintiff in v. 23b, as part of the summation by the king. As we posited in body of the article, however, it is entirely possible that the king summarized the speeches of the women in the order of their appearance before him, first the plaintiff and then the defendant, and that he changed the internal order of the speeches in a chiastic manner in summarizing them. This eliminates the basis for Rendsburg's argument, which fails to buttress his view that the defendant is the mother of the living child. <br /><br />37 M. Shiloah, ...(in Hebrew), in Korengreen Volume (ed. A. Wiezer and B. Lourie; Tel Aviv: Society for Biblical Research, 1964) 251-67, esp. 257, 262. <br /><br />38 Ibid., 265. <br /><br />39 Samuel A. Meier, Speaking of Speaking: Marking Direct Discourse in the Hebrew Bible (VTSup 46; Leiden: Brill, 1992) 70-71. <br /><br />40 For a somewhat different explanation, see F. Polak, Biblical Narrative: Aspects of Art and Design (in Hebrew; Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1994) 273. <br /><br />41 Indeed, there is quite a bit of irony in the command of the king and, afterwards, in the command of the kidnapper, who repeats the king's command 1"In, "cut!" The denotation is cutting the living child in two, precisely as the king commanded; but this is accompanied by an ironic connotation of ..., "deciding the case," in accordance with the use of ... in late texts (Job 22:8; Esth 2:1 ). <br /><br />42 Uziel Mali, "The Language of Conversation in the Former Prophets" (in Hebrew; Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, 1983) 162-63. <br /><br />43 For an in-depth discussion of these characteristics from a sociological and anthropological standpoint, see Lasine, "Solomon, Daniel, and the Detective Story"; idem, "Riddle of Solomon's Judgment." <br /><br />MOSHE GARSIEL <br /><br />Bar Ilan University <br /><br />Ramat Gan, Israel <br /><br />Copyright Catholic Biblical Association of America Apr 2002<br />Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved<br /><br /><br />FindArticles > Catholic Biblical Quarterly, The > Apr 2002 > Article > </strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12558532.post-1115947141895844852004-05-09T17:17:00.000-07:002005-05-12T18:19:01.900-07:00Psalm 32<img src="http://www.giotto.org/piccolomini/psalms.jpg"/><br /><br /><br /><strong>Psalm 32<br />Of David. A maskil. [a]<br /> 1 Blessed is he <br /> whose transgressions are forgiven, <br /> whose sins are covered. <br /> 2 Blessed is the man <br /> whose sin the LORD does not count against him <br /> and in whose spirit is no deceit. <br /><br /> 3 When I kept silent, <br /> my bones wasted away <br /> through my groaning all day long. <br /><br /> 4 For day and night <br /> your hand was heavy upon me; <br /> my strength was sapped <br /> as in the heat of summer. <br /> Selah <br /><br /> 5 Then I acknowledged my sin to you <br /> and did not cover up my iniquity. <br /> I said, "I will confess <br /> my transgressions to the LORD "—<br /> and you forgave <br /> the guilt of my sin. <br /> Selah <br /><br /> 6 Therefore let everyone who is godly pray to you <br /> while you may be found; <br /> surely when the mighty waters rise, <br /> they will not reach him. <br /><br /> 7 You are my hiding place; <br /> you will protect me from trouble <br /> and surround me with songs of deliverance. <br /> Selah <br /><br /> 8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; <br /> I will counsel you and watch over you. <br /><br /> 9 Do not be like the horse or the mule, <br /> which have no understanding <br /> but must be controlled by bit and bridle <br /> or they will not come to you. <br /><br /> 10 Many are the woes of the wicked, <br /> but the LORD's unfailing love <br /> surrounds the man who trusts in him. <br /><br /> 11 Rejoice in the LORD and be glad, you righteous; <br /> sing, all you who are upright in heart!<br /><br />Footnotes:<br /><br />Psalm 32:1 Title: Probably a literary or musical term </strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0