Since the New Testament is a collection of books,
these books are subject to literary analysis.
Books do not just grow, but
are composed by authors who have certain goals in view and follow certain
methods in arranging and composing their materials.
Presumably their goals
can be discovered, to some extent, by considering the circumstances under
which they wrote, but since (in our opinion) this kind of consideration belongs
to historical criticism we refrain from discussing it at this point.
Literary
criticism is properly concerned with analysing the author's purposes and
achievements by means of a detailed examination of the works themselves.
We thus agree with what Allen Tate says of poets:
"Poets, in their way, are practical men;
they are interested in results.
What is the poem, after it is written?
That is the question.
Not where it came from, or why.
The Why and Where can never get beyond the guessing stage
because, in the language of those who think it can,
poetry cannot be brought to "laboratory conditions". "
To Tate's What, however, we must add (as he himself would) the question
of How.
In attempting to understand a literary work, we cannot simply read
it;
we must analyse its structure as a whole and in relation to the various
parts, since the structure is an indispensable part of the author's achievement.
But we cannot begin with the work as a whole.
The whole cannot be understood
- even though its structure can sometimes be outlined - before the sentence
units are analysed.
Generally speaking, the structure of an entire New Testament
book is less easily grasped than the constituent sentences are.
It may be asked why, in our search for units that can be readily understood,
we do not begin with individual words.
The reason for beginning with sentences
lies in our understanding of the nature of New Testament language.
In dealing
with translations we have already pointed to a number of ways in which the
meanings of individual words can be and have been illuminated.
But it is
our opinion that individual words, no matter how carefully investigated,
cannot be understood as exactly or precisely as can the structure of a sentence,
especially in an articulated language like Greek. We should claim that the
proper approach to a New Testament document, while necessarily involving
at least an approximation to the translation of individual words, begins
with the diagramming of the sentences in such a way as to bring out the interrelations
of words, phrases and clauses.
Greek writers did not simply choose to write in a patterned manner; they had to write in a patterned manner because of the nature of their language, and in order to understand them we must understand the structure within which their thought moved.
It is of course possible that by diagramming in this way one may get an
over-precise interpretation of thoughts that somehow transcended the limitations
of language.
But it is surprising how often such writings as the Pauline
epistles actually do conform to the rules of Greek sentence-structure.
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There are certain features about New Testament sentences, which immediately
strike the reader's eye,
at least the eye that sees them diagrammed.
For instance, it is obvious that
many of the sayings of Jesus as reported in the synoptic gospels contain PARALLELISM,
a feature also characteristic of much of the poetic language of the Old Testament.
Sometimes this parallelism is SYMONYMOUS.
Approximately
the same meaning is expressed in two slightly different ways.
"Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm?
to save a life or to kill?" (Mark 3:4)
"If a kingdom be divided against itself,
that kingdom cannot stand;
and if a house be divided against itself,
that house cannot stand" (Mark 3:24-5).
"There is nothing hid
but that it should be revealed,
nor was anything made secret
but that it should come to light" (Mark 4.22)
Sometimes the parallelism is ANTITHETICAL.
"He who has,
it will be given to him;
and he who has not,
from him it will be taken away" (Mark 4.25).
And sometimes it is CHIASTIC (from the Greek letter "chi", which looks like a cross or X).
"You know that
(a) those who are thought to rule over the gentiles
lord it over them, and
(b) their great men exercise authority over them.
But it is not so among you. But
(b) whoever wishes to be great among you
shall be your servant, and
(a) whoever wishes to be first among you
shall be the slave of all"
(Mark 10:2-4).
The words "but it is not so among you" indicate that the parallel is also antithetical.
It is perhaps worth noting at this point that in the synoptic gospels such
parallelism occurs only in sayings, not in comments made by the authors themselves.
On the other hand, in the Gospel of John it is to be found not only in sayings
of Jesus but also in what the evangelist says.
Indeed, at some points it
is impossible to determine whether it is the evangelist or Jesus who is speaking.
"God so loved the world
that he gave his only Son
that whoever believes in him should not perish
but have eternal life.
For God sent his Son into the world
not to judge the world
but that the world should be saved through him"
(John 3:16-17).
Parallelism is also common in the letters of the apostle Paul.
From among the many examples we cite only a few.
"He who sows sparingly
shall also reap sparingly;
and he who sows bountifully
shall also reap bountifully"
(II Cor.9.6).
"All things are lawful, but not all things are expedient;
all things are lawful, but not all things edify"
(I Cor.10.23).
"There are diversities of gifts,
but the same Spirit;
and there are diversities of ministrations,
yet the same Lord;
and there are diversities of operations,
but the same God" ...
(I Cor.12:4-6).
Naturally Paul's style does not consist of parallelisms alone, even though
he is very fond of them.
In Greek, more than in Hebrew, the structure of
a sentence is often controlled by the PREPOSITIONS which
indicate the relations between the various nouns and verbs.
By considering
the sentence-structure in relation to the prepositions, the precise meaning
of the sentence often becomes clear.
"For us there is one God the Father
OF whom are all things and
UNTO whom are we;
and one Lord Jesus Christ,
THROUGH whom are all things and
THROUGH whom are we"
(I Cor.8.6).
"Who is the image of the invisible God,
the firstborn of all creation;
for IN him were created all things;
all things were created THROUGH him and UNTO him;
and he is BEFORE all things,
and all things hold together IN him"
(Col.1.15-17).
Sometimes the precise relationship of the prepositions is not so clear.
"Whom God set forth as an expiation
THROUGH faith
BY his blood
FOR the demonstration of his righteousness
THROUGH the remission of past sins
IN the forbearance of God;
FOR the demonstration of his righteousness
AT the present time." ...
(Rom.3:25-6).
The words translated "by his blood" may mean
"in his blood";
in that case, the meaning of the sentence would be somewhat different.
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After we have looked at individual sentences we are in a position to proceed
to the paragraph.
Sometimes, indeed often, Paul constructs his paragraphs
with great care.
For example, when he is giving exact instructions to the
Corinthians about eating meat he uses a structure almost legal in form.
An example of a longer paragraph carefully put together occurs in I Corinthians
2,
where a similar arrangement by sense-lines can be provided;
but the most famous example is to be found in I Corinthians 13.
Here there
is a magnificent combination of repetition and variety.
The passage begins
with a contrast between various gifts and virtues and the supreme gift of
love.
If I — and have not love, I have become —.
And if I — and — and —,
and if I —, and have not love, I am —.
And if I — ,
and if I —, and have not love, I am —.
The second section is based primarily on verbs that indicate love's nature.
First come two positive verbal statements;
then a verb with a negative is
followed once by the noun love, five times by negative verbal statements.
A transition to the positive is made by means of an antithetical parallel,
and the section ends with four verbs whose object is "all things".
| (positive) (negative) (transition) (positive) |
Love — , — love; it does not — ; love does not — (six verbs) it does not rejoice over unrighteousness, but it rejoices with the truth; all things it — (four times). |
The third section describes the finality of love by means of a series of contrasts, which recall the themes of the first section.
| (contrasts) (transition) (an example) (eschatological conclusion) (summary) |
Love never fails; if there are — , they will be — ; if there are — , they will — ; if there is — , it will be — . For we — in part and we — in part; but when the perfect comes, the partial will be — . When I was a child, I — as a child (three examples), but when I became a man, I put away the things of a child. Thus far we see —, but then, — . Thus far I know in part, but then, — . Faith, hope, and love last, these three; but the greatest of these is love. |
Some of the points can be arranged differently,
but it is clear that a carefully
planned arrangement does exist.
To discover such structures in the New Testament
writings is the primary task of exegesis.
If we can understand them, we can
at least begin to understand what the writers intended to say.
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In addition to the general problem of understanding sentences and paragraphs,
there is also the question of particular literary forms, which Paul and others
may employ.
One obvious example is the salutation that we should expect to find
in a letter.
Less obvious is the thanksgiving,
which occurs not only in the Pauline
epistles (except Galatians)
but also in other letters of Hellenistic, and
Roman times.
Such thanksgivings often set forth themes that are later taken
up in the body of the letter itself.
(This subject is fully discussed by
Paul Schubert in his Form and Function of the Pauline Thanksgivings, 1939.)
In addition, Graeco-Roman writers were well aware of the possibilities provided
by the ecthesis, or carefully planned digression (I Corinthians 13
is an example).
Sometimes literary and oral style overlap,
as in the instances where Paul
addresses his readers as individuals (e.g. Rom. 2:1 ff.; cf. also James 2:18
ff.)
or quotes from what some of them have said or written, as in I Corinthians
(6:12-13; perhaps 6:18b; 8:1, 4, 8; 10:23).
This manner of writing, reflected
also in the question, "Don't you know that... ?",
is characteristic of the
descriptions of the DIATRIBE or popular philosophical
address developed by Cynics and Stoics.
(Lists of virtues and vices, as well
as brief descriptions of family duties, were also common among Graeco-Roman
writers.)
A fascinating example of a special kind of paragraph occurs in II Corinthians
1:23-33,
where Paul is reluctantly "boasting" to the Corinthians.
As Anton
Fridrichsen pointed out, this "catalogue of crises" finds remarkably close
stylistic similarities in the descriptions of the careers of kings and other
potentates which were engraved on stone or related in Graeco-Roman biographies.
These descriptions, like Paul's, make use of "many times" and of precise
numbers as well;
sometimes, like Paul's, they contain brief accounts of significant
episodes.
The difference, of course, lies in the content.
Kings list their achievements;
Paul lists examples of his sufferings on behalf
of Christ.
Another special kind of paragraph structure, which should be mentioned at
this point, is the PARABLE,
characteristic of the teaching of Jesus and that
of his rabbinical contemporaries.
This structure deserves notice especially
because of the dogmatic assumptions associated primarily with the work of
Adolf Jülicher (Die Gleichnisreden Jesu). Jülicher
was trying to free the parables of Jesus from the "over-interpretation"
that had frequently been given them in patristic and medieval exegesis.
He
therefore sharply differentiated allegory from parable.
According to his
definitions, an allegory was an artificial story intended to convey a variety
of meanings;
a parable was a realistic story that made one, and only one,
point.
Unfortunately, while his general idea is correct,
not all the parables
of Jesus are realistic
and not all of them convey only one point.
Sometimes,
as also among the rabbis, allegory and parable overlap,
and we are not in
a position to reject those parables that seem to convey more than one meaning
or, for that matter, the explanations of the parables that occur in the gospels
themselves.
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We have seen that to understand the New Testament writings we must examine
the literary form of sentences and paragraphs.
Only after doing so can we
turn to the smallest units of expression, the words.
But we must remember
that the meanings of words depend primarily on the function the words perform
within the sentences.
One might suppose that the simple connective "kai" ordinarily
translated "and", would be easy enough to translate, or that "kai ... kai" could
always be rendered as "both . . . and".
Such is not the case. "Kai" obviously
means two different things in the following sentence.
"And ("kai") passing by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and ("kai") Peter" (Mark 1:16).
The first refers to a temporal sequence;
the second, to the association
of two objects of vision.
Sometimes the word can bear an adversative sense
("and yet");
sometimes it is "otiose", conveys practically no meaning, and
should not be translated.
When we pass beyond this kind of word to the more difficult terms such as
prepositions, we encounter the fact that both in popular Greek and in ordinary
English, prepositions are fairly fluid in meaning.
The Greek word "en" can
mean "in";
it can also mean "with", "by", or "to".
Its precise meaning depends
on the context.
And when we go on to key words like justification, redemption,
salvation, grace (and others) we confront the problem of finding English
equivalents (see Chapter III) and, more important, of trying to delimit the
range of meanings.
We have already seen some of the ways in which scholars
have tried to make use of papyri and of the Septuagint, not to mention Hellenistic
literature in general.
Such dictionaries as those of Walter Bauer and Gerhard
Kittel provide indispensable help.
But they cannot give us precise definitions
of any of these words.
They can tell us what meanings the words seem to possess
in various writings;
we cannot be sure that Paul, for example, always intended
to convey any of these meanings in his letters.
Often the best analogies for the meanings of words and the overtones which
an author intended to convey are provided in the author's own writings.
Thus Bultmann has pointed out that for Paul the verb "pisteuo" often
bears the meaning "obey" as well as "believe".
The author's own usage must
be decisive.
He was (ordinarily) the master of his own language.
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Thus far we have been assuming that the documents we possess are the documents
the New Testament authors wrote, in spite of the presence of a few textual
difficulties.
Such cases as Mark 16:9-20 and John 7:33-8:11 are exceptional.
But literary critics often attempt to go beyond textual evidence and discover
interpolations by using literary criteria alone.
We must therefore discuss
these criteria and attempt to assess the results of applying them.
Obviously the evidence provided by ancient manuscripts is of primary importance.
Passages omitted by early scribes often deserve to have been omitted.
On
the other hand, if various manuscripts present essentially the same content
but with variations in expression we cannot be certain that the passage involved
is to be deleted.
Probably one or another of the manuscripts has preserved
the original version.
After textual criticism comes literary analysis as such.
Three questions
can be raised.
Does the passage in question contain words or phrases alien
to the rest of the author's known work?
If it does, we may regard it as
suspect -
though we must remember that vocabularies change and that, even
at one time, an author does not use all the words he knows.
Closely related
to this is the question as to whether or not words in the suspect passage
are used in senses different from those in which the author elsewhere employs
them -
though this question too must be raised with caution,
since authors
can, after all, use one word to mean several things and several words to
convey one meaning.
(1) Does the passage in question reflect the style used in other parts of
the author's work?
If it does not, we may suspect the presence of interpolation.
On the other hand, it must be remembered that one author can write in several
styles and that in antiquity those who were trained in writing were taught
to imitate the styles of various models.
Sometimes scholars have listed criteria
for finding interpolations by criticizing the style of certain passages.
They assume that such an author as John could write well, and therefore interpolations
may exist where there are
(a) compositional difficulties
("when, then, the
Lord knew that the Pharisees had heard that Jesus was making and baptizing
more disciples than John," John 4:1),
(b) contradictions
("yet Jesus himself
was not baptizing; his disciples were," 4:2),
and
(c) obscurities.
An excellent
example of obscurity occurs in John 4:43-5.
"After two days he went forth from there into Galilee.
For Jesus himself testified that a prophet has no honour in his own country.
When, then, he came into Galilee the Galileans received him,
having seen everything that he had done in Jerusalem at the feast;
for they themselves had gone to the feast."
What is the sequence of ideas in this passage?
Origen found it so difficult that he was sure it was meant allegorically;
and he may have been right.
The difficulty with these three criteria lies in the assumption that an
author
(a) never has compositional difficulties,
(b) never contradicts himself,
and
(c) always writes, and intends to write, clearly.
This assumption is not
necessarily correct.
Literary critics sometimes pass beyond these criteria in the direction of
historical criticism.
They analyse documents in relation to
The
first of these methods can be regarded as still within the limits of literary
criticism.
Passages that are inconsistent with what is definitely known
about an author's life or thought (as reflected in his writings) may well
be regarded as interpolations.
In most instances in the New Testament,
however, not enough is known about these phenomena for us to be able to
say with certainty what is inconsistent with them.
The second and third
of the methods go well beyond literary criticism.
The fact that something
seems unhistorical to us does not imply that it seemed unhistorical to
a New Testament writer or that, for that matter, he was writing what we
should regard as history.
For example, it has often been assumed that the
description of the last times in Mark
13 was written either before or after
the fall of Jerusalem in 70 but, in any event, with closer attention to
the book of Daniel than to historical events.
On the other hand, the precise
reference to the devastation of Jerusalem by a hostile army in Luke
21:20-4 has suggested that Luke is writing after the fall of the city.
C. H. Dodd
has pointed out, however, that Luke's reference may well be derived from
Old Testament passages that speak of the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BC.
Mark,
then, is close to Daniel;
Luke is close to earlier prophets,
and the passage
is of no use in dating his book.
As for the third method, it cannot be discussed until we have considered
the idea of development as applied to early Christian history (Chapter
V).
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In antiquity, as we have already seen when discussing the canon,
questions
were raised about the authorship of various New Testament books.
When such
questions arose,
they were treated primarily in relation to the vocabulary,
style and ideas of the authors involved.
Thus it was claimed that Paul did
not write Hebrews (Origen),
that the author of I Peter did not write II Peter
(Jerome),
and that the author of the Fourth Gospel did not write Revelation
(Dionysius of Alexandria).
At this point it is enough to say that all these
claims are almost certainly correct.
In modern times the range of questioning has widened,
and many scholars
have held that Paul did not write either Ephesians or the Pastoral Epistles,
while not one of the Catholic Epistles was written by the author assigned
to it.
Some have also questioned the authenticity of Colossians and II Thessalonians.
In addition, doubts have been vigorously expressed about the authorship of
the four gospels, and of the book of Revelation as well.
Interestingly enough,
if we ask what remains unchallenged we find that it consists of seven Pauline
epistles and (probably) of a true tradition behind the gospels.
Such a view
is almost the same as that advocated by Marcion in the second century.
But
to suggest that the view is like Marcion's does not relieve us from the
responsibility of examining it.
We must therefore consider the criteria for judging authorship.
They are much the same as those used in dealing with interpolations,
except
that the areas of investigation are wider and there is even more use of
something like historical criticism.
(1) Textual criticism is not especially relevant in so far as the authorship
of the document is concerned.
More important is the question whether or not
old and. valuable witnesses contain it.
For example, the third-century Beatty
papyri are fragmentary at the beginning and the end of the Pauline epistles.
From what is missing at the beginning we can calculate the number of pages
missing at the end, since the papyrus leaves were simply laid on top of one
another and folded.
There is not enough space for all the Pastoral Epistles;
therefore they were not to be found in this manuscript.
But an American scholar
noticed that as the scribe got closer to the end of his manuscript his writing
became smaller and more cramped.
This point suggests that like us he was
aware that he had miscalculated the number of pages he needed,
and that he
may well have intended to include the Pastorals.
If his error was too conspicuous,
he could have glued on a few additional pages.
(2) By means of literary criticism we can compare the vocabulary and style
of a questioned document with similar phenomena in unquestioned documents.
Thus I Peter has only a hundred words in common with II Peter, while 369
in I Peter are not in II Peter and 230 in II Peter are not in I Peter.
This
kind of analysis seems fairly conclusive.
One author did not write the two
documents.
On the other hand, when we consider the relation of the Pastorals and Ephesians
to the major Pauline epistles we find an anomalous situation.
About a third of the words in the Pastorals do not occur in the other Pauline
letters;
about a sixth of those in Ephesians are similarly lacking.
Admittedly
the proportion of "new" words in the Pastorals seems rather high, especially
when compared with that in Ephesians.
Two questions arise, however.
(a) To what extent are we able to judge authenticity
on this basis, when we have so few materials with which to deal?
It may be
that the statistical foundation is absent.
(b) What proportion of "new" words
is to be regarded as acceptable?
In Romans, as compared with earlier Pauline
letters, about a quarter of the words are "new".
Should we say that a quarter
is just right, while a third is too much and a sixth is too little?
To ask
this question is to indicate the absurdity of claiming that this method gives
precise results.
Stylistic differences may be more significant, though it
is difficult to assess their importance exactly.
As we have already seen
in looking at Paul, he uses different styles on different occasions.
Similarly
the style of Luke 1:1-4 is very different from that of the two chapters which
follow, and in the book of Acts the style becomes more polished as the apostle
Paul goes out into the Graeco-Roman world.
Presumably the author intended
to create this variation.
(3) Historical criticism has a special role to play in questions of authorship,
for these questions would probably not arise were there not ancient traditions,
which have come to be doubted.
Historical and literary criticism thus overlap
when the tradition about authorship is being examined.
For instance, what
Papias tells us about the literary activities of Mark and Matthew has to
be considered,
as well as what Justin says about the evangelists and the
author of Revelation
and what Irenaeus relates about the gospels,
Acts and
the Pauline epistles, and Revelation.
Modern scholars have often been highly
suspicious of these early Fathers' remarks, and have argued that they reflect
inferences from the New Testament books rather than trustworthy traditions.
It may be suggested, however, that even if this is the case the Fathers were
not necessarily wrong;
and it seems hard to deny that they could have possessed
reliable information.
We conclude that while some New Testament books may have been ascribed to
authors who did not write them, each case has to be considered with great
care and caution.
Unless highly convincing evidence can be produced against
the tradition, there is no reason not to accept it.
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Another function of literary criticism is that of determining the sources
used by an author in composing his work.
Admittedly this function is less
important than that of analysing the meaning of the work itself.
But by comparing
the author's work with the source or sources he used,
it is often useful
to note what changes he has made,
and what he has added or deleted.
The discovery
of sources is a more difficult process than might be supposed,
for in antiquity,
as H. J. Cadbury has observed,
authors are accustomed not to name the sources
they use, and to name sources they do not use.
There are two obvious examples of the use of sources in the New Testament.
The first is provided when we find in the second chapter of II Peter a slightly
revised version of the Epistle of Jude.
Here the stylistic improvements suggest
that II Peter is using Jude, not vice versa.
The second occurs in Ephesians,
much of which is so close to Colossians in content and in vocabulary as to
indicate that the author of Ephesians, whether Paul or someone else, was
producing a revised version of the earlier epistle.
It is likely that Ephesians
follows Colossians because the specific situation and specific persons involved
in Colossians are lacking.
More significant source-relations are involved in the three synoptic gospels.
At
many points their wording is so closely similar that we must assume that
one or another of the following possibilities is a probability:
All these solutions are possible;
we shall later argue that only one of
them is probable (Chapter VIII).
In this chapter we have said nothing about the matters,
often regarded as
belonging to literary criticism,
which concern the date and the place of
writing of particular documents.
In our opinion these matters do not belong
to literary criticism.
They are concerned with temporal and spatial correlations
and therefore belong to historical criticism.
Literary criticism is concerned
with a document as a document,
with the structure of a book rather than with
its historical setting or purpose.
Obviously we do not intend to exclude
historical understanding from our analysis.
We claim, however, that literary
interpretation comes first.
The primary function of literary criticism, then,
is the understanding of
the structure of a document
and the reflection of the author's purpose as
expressed by means of this structure.
In the course of performing this primary
function a secondary function arises.
Do certain passages, or even certain
books, reflect the structural procedures of a particular author?
It may be
necessary to exclude them as interpolations or additions if we are to understand
the author's literary purpose.
A similar question arises when we deal with
his sources, actual and potential.
Something of the structure he provides
may be due to the necessity for coming to terms with his sources.
The secondary function performed by interpolation-theories and source-criticism
may therefore assist the critic in achieving his primary goal: the literary
understanding of his materials.
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