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In the nineteenth century, there flourished what
Albert Schweitzer called "the quest of the historical Jesus".
It cannot
be said that this quest was very successful or that its continuation in the
early twentieth century, described by C. C. McCown in his Search for the
Real Jesus, was especially fruitful.
In general the trouble with the
nineteenth-century quest was that it overlooked
Rather naively combining gospel materials
as if they were purely factual, many nineteenth-century critics produced
a portrait of Jesus, which was actually drawn after their own image and
likeness.
In the first half of the twentieth century this kind of search
practically came to a halt because of the rise of form criticism, with
its emphasis on the role of oral tradition in the creation of the gospels,
and the recognition that apocalyptic eschatology had been extremely important
in the early Church and (probably) in the teaching of Jesus himself.
To a considerable extent these two factors could have been regarded as mutually
exclusive.
If the Church controlled the oral tradition to the extent alleged
by the form critics, it might have seemed unlikely that early Christians
would have preserved the embarrassing (because unfulfilled) predictions of
the immediate coming of God's reign which were to be found in the tradition
itself.
But the two factors were often combined, with the result that one
could be sure that Jesus actually predicted the immediate coming of the Kingdom,
while the Church took pains to adapt his teaching to the various needs produced
by situations after his death and resurrection.
At the present time a new concern for the life of Jesus has arisen, partly
by way of reaction against the extreme scepticism that flourished a generation
ago.
This concern, it is claimed, arises out of the theological study of
the New Testament and can be justified in relation to it.
At this point we
have no intention of discussing this kind of problem.
We shall simply assume
that it is important, in relation to critical historical study, of the New
Testament, to determine what can be known about the life of Jesus - and equally
important to determine what cannot be known.
If further justification be
needed, we should argue that the existence of a visible community of believers
at least tends to imply the existence of a Jesus about whom something more
can be said than that he appeared.
Our concern, then, is with what can be known historically about him.
But when we use the word "historically" we are already confronted with difficulties.
Traditionally this word has implied the effort to set various data, often
divergent in nature, into a context contemporary with them and geographically
suitable.
In other words, the data are to be located in time and space and,
it is assumed, made more fully comprehensible by comparison with other data
derived from the same period and area.
In addition, the chronological arrangement
of the data is expected to point towards the establishment of various causal
connections.
The discovery or recovery of causal connections is based on
a negative premise (what is posterior cannot be a cause of what is prior)
and on a positive assumption as well (something which is prior is a cause
of what is posterior).
Unfortunately - and this point is often overlooked
- given the fact that our knowledge of historical phenomena is limited, we
are not always in a position to say what data are earlier than others.
And
because historical phenomena owe their existence to various causes, we cannot
always determine which causes are the most important.
The difficulties we have already mentioned arise in dealing with all historical
phenomena, but in dealing with the life of Jesus we encounter problems, which
are due to the nature of the sources we use.
We have seen that the synoptic
gospels present a picture, which in general is rather different from the
one to be found in John.
At first glance, then, we must be cautious;
we must
not assume too rapidly that either the Johannine or the synoptic outline
is the only correct one.
On the other hand, since all the gospels agree that
Jesus was crucified outside Jerusalem and that prior to this event he taught
not only in Jerusalem but also in Galilee, we must admit that there was a
certain movement in his ministry, whether it was simply from Galilee to Jerusalem
(as in the synoptics) or oscillated between the two areas (as in John).
This conclusion does not amount to much, and because it does not amount
to much we have to see what grounds can be used for ascertaining the reliability
of more of the gospel materials.
At the end of the nineteenth century P.
W. Schmiedel pointed to the existence of what he called "pillar-passages"
in the synoptic gospels.
These were verses, which he thought could not have
been invented by the later community or communities because the ideas expressed
in them ran counter to the developing theology of the Church.
Among them
he included Mark 3:21 ("the family or friends of Jesus say, "He is beside
himself" "), Mark 6:5 ("he was unable to perform any miracle there"), Mark
13:32 ("of that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven nor
the Son"), and others of a similar nature.
In other words, the passages
Schmiedel accepted were passages, which pointed towards either the weakness
or the ignorance of Jesus.
Since later evangelists or theologians found them
difficult to explain, they must have been authentic.
There is obviously something
to this judgement.
It implies that the evangelists were so honest that they
were willing to report information that may well have seemed incongruent
to them.
At the same time, when Matthew 13:58 reads "he did not perform many
miracles there because of their unbelief" we must recognize that essentially
this is no different from what we read in Mark 6:5, where Mark's words "was
unable" do not reflect a historical fact but come from the evangelist's
judgement as to what took place.
And when Matthew 24:36 agrees with Mark
13:32 that the Son does not know the time of the end, both may be making
use of a saying revised by the Church in order to counteract enthusiasm for
eschatological timetables.
Such a conjecture is, of course, not necessary;
but it is possible.
We mention it only in order to suggest that the solidity
of Schmiedel's pillars leaves something to be desired.
Albert Schweitzer himself erected another kind of pillar when he claimed
that the gospel of Jesus had as its centre what he called "thoroughgoing
eschatology".
The best passages he could provide came from sections to be
found only in the Gospel of Matthew, especially the tenth chapter, where
we hear of the imminent coming of the Son of Man.
First, the context is rigidly
Jewish (hence authentic):
"Do not go to a way of the gentiles, and do not enter a city of the Samaritans;
go, instead, to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (10:6-7).
Second, the eschatology is on the verge of realization:
"Truly I say to you, you will not complete the cities of Israel before the Son of Man comes" (10:23).
The difficulty with treating these verses as
verbatim reports of the sayings of Jesus lies in the fact that they so closely
resemble some other expressions in Matthew which clearly present Jesus'
ministry as exceedingly close to "orthodox" Judaism (e.g., 5:18-20) and do
not agree with passages in other gospels, and in Matthew itself;
which portray
his teaching as farther from a literal interpretation of the law.
It could,
of course, be argued that Mark and Luke, probably writing for gentiles, suppressed
such verses.
But to make this claim means to hold that whatever in Jesus'
teaching is close to Pharisaic-apocalyptic Judaism is genuine, while whatever
looks beyond it has been created by the early gentile, or pro-gentile, Church.
And we do not know that Pharisaic-apocalyptic Judaism provided the entire
framework within which early Christianity arose.
Once more, there is something to this notion.
If the gospel had originally been regarded as clearly addressed to all, Jews
and gentiles alike, it is difficult to see how a gentile mission could
have arisen as gradually as it did (according both to Acts and to Galatians).
On the other hand, however, had it contained no seeds of universality the
gentile mission could hardly have arisen at all.
There must have been a
sense in which Jesus addressed himself primarily to the Jewish people (Paul
calls him the "minister of the circumcision", Rom.15:8);
but there must
also have been a sense in which he addressed his call to the gentiles as
well.
The synoptic evangelists reflect such a picture when they mention
his encounters with non-Jews in Galilee and its environs.
All the evangelists record his controversies over the keeping of the Sabbath.
It could be added that if the mission of Jesus could be defined entirely
in relation to ideas already present among the Pharisees or at Qumran he
would not have been a historical person, in the sense that there was anything
worth recording about his message.
To say this is not to assert that his
teaching was completely novel, as Marcion urged in the second century.
It
is merely to insist that had its content not somehow transcended what was
ordinarily believed in the Palestine of his day there would have been no
reason to preserve it.
A similar observation can be made in regard to his proclamation of the nature
and coming of God's reign.
The notion that God would soon take up his power and reign for the benefit
of those who obeyed and served him was fairly widespread in first-century
Palestine.
Josephus describes several of the more conspicuous "prophets"
who wrongly anticipated God's action, and the War Scroll from Qumran shows
how seriously some Jews took eschatological expectations in which they themselves
would participate.
Was the prediction of Jesus of the same sort?
Did he die
in the mistaken belief that God was soon to intervene?
It is certainly the
case that some of his sayings point in this direction.
The comment of Luke
that his disciples supposed, as he drew near to Jerusalem, that the reign
of God would immediately appear (19:11) seems to reflect a real historical
situation;
compare Mark 9:1:
"There are some of those standing here who will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God come in power."
Many of the parables of the kingdom point in the same direction.
At the same time, there are passages in which the reign of God is regarded
as present at least in nuclear form.
The most impressive of these is the
saying reported in Luke 11:20 (Matt.12:28):
"If I by the finger [spirit] of God cast out demons,
then the reign of God has already come upon you."
If the reign of God is like a seed or a buried treasure, it would appear
that in some sense it already exists.
The idea set forth in such passages
has been called "realized eschatology", though in view of the element of
expectation which still remains it should probably be called "inaugurated
eschatology" or "eschatology in the process of realization".
Whatever it
may be called, the presence of this element in the teaching of Jesus clearly
suggests that he did not simply make predictions about the future.
In his
teaching there was emphasis on the imminent future;
there was also emphasis
on the present as an anticipation of the future.
The dividing-line between
present and future was to some extent blurred.
Again we can pass from mention of specific passages to more general considerations.
It is obvious that in the Pauline epistles, or in some Pauline epistles,
there is a vigorous emphasis on the nearness of the end and the coming
of Jesus from heaven (e.g., I Thess.4:16-17; Phil.3:20).
Some scholars
have claimed that as Paul gets older and the Lord does not return, the
emphasis shifts from eschatological expectation to a greater appreciation
of the possibilities in the world. With this notion can be combined the
fact that in the Gospel of John eschatology is viewed in two ways:
it is
something already realized in the mission of Jesus (e.g., 11:25);
it is
also something related to the future (e.g. 5:28-9).
The "hour" often mentioned
in John is sometimes future, sometimes both future and present.
One conclusion that has been drawn from such data is that both Paul and
John have modified the original, purely futurist eschatology of Jesus, chiefly
because of the passage of time.
Against this conclusion two points can be made:
Moreover the date of the Johannine gospel and the Johannine materials remains
open to question.
Finally, the rise of Christian Gnosticism at a relatively
early period suggests that while the Gnostics undoubtedly made use of only
one side of the teaching of Jesus it was apparently there for them to use.
Their eschatology, generally speaking, is realized, although in many systems
futurist elements remain.
From this overall picture, as well as from the specific passages already
mentioned, we conclude that the teaching of Jesus was not a simple futurist
eschatology.
It had futurist elements, and they were very important.
But
the eschatology of which he spoke contained aspects both futurist and, in
part, present.
During the apostolic age some writers emphasized one aspect,
some the other.
It was not until the fifth century that the futurist aspects came to be
generally neglected.
When in II Peter we find a de-emphasizing of the futurist
element (3:8) it is still combined with stress on the coming of the Lord;
and, in any event, the non-representative character of II Peter is clearly
reflected in the failure of most early Christian writers to make use of it.
This conclusion means that one of the cardinal presuppositions of most historical
critics of the New Testament is put in jeopardy.
If one cannot simply say
that unfulfilled apocalyptic predictions are genuine, while passages that
regard the kingdom of God as somehow present are late interpretations or
misinterpretations, the clear, one-sided picture drawn by Schweitzer and
others tends to disappear.
We should not assume, however, that we have now solved all the problems
related to the life of Jesus, or even the major ones.
Obviously, by insisting
upon the double nature of early Christian eschatology we have made it possible
to claim that Jesus founded the Church or provided for its existence after
his death;
[Cf. H. Conzelmann in Die Religion in Geschichte und
Gegenwart III (ed. 3), 646.]
we have tried to lay emphasis upon continuity rather than discontinuity in
early Christian history.
It is equally obvious that this continuity has been challenged and will be
challenged.
[ Cf. Conzelmann in Zeitschrift für Theologie
und Kirche 54
(1957), 277-96.]
In one sense, at least, the continuity is problematic in so far as the resurrection
of Jesus is an event that stands outside the ordinary continuities of history;
and it was in, and in consequence of, this event that the Church came into
full existence.
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Because the Christian movement arose within the Roman Empire and spread
throughout it, from east to west, we should expect to find some notice taken
of it by Greek and Roman writers.
They ought to say something about Jesus and his influence.
Such an expectation is clearly fulfilled only by four writers of the late
first century and the early second;
by the time of the anti-Christian writer Celsus (c. 178),
nothing authentic about Jesus is preserved in non-Christian sources.
The four writers we have in mind are the Hellenistic Jewish general and
historian Josephus and the Roman officials C. Plinius Secundus (Pliny the
Younger), A. Cornelius Tacitus and C. Tranquillus Suetonius.
In dealing with each bit of information we must be just as critical as we
should like to be in considering Christian statements.
Each of these authors has his own axe or axes to grind;
his attitude is not necessarily "objective" simply because he is not a Christian.
The words of Josephus are especially questionable,
since we know that he was militantly opposed to apocalyptic movements,
which in his view had led to the disastrous war with Rome (66 -70);
he himself became a devoted supporter of Rome and his work was subsidized
by successive emperors.
He included three passages bearing on Christian origins in his Antiquities, published
about the year 93
(significantly, none of them is to be found in parallel
passages in his earlier War;
presumably Christians had become more important in the interval).
These three passages deal with
John the Baptist,
James the brother of Jesus,
and Jesus himself.
The passage about John the Baptist (18, 116-19) depicts him as a "teacher
of righteousness" and makes no reference to his eschatological
views.
His baptism is portrayed as absolutely non-sacramental.
The passage about James (20, 197-203) describes his judicial murder by the
high priest Ananas in AD 62 and refers to him as the brother of "Jesus,
the so-called Christ".
From this passage two inferences can be drawn.
If we turn to what he does say about Jesus, it is not what we should expect.
The passage (18, 63-4) reads as follows:
"At this time lived Jesus, a wise man (if it is right to call him a man),
for he was a worker of miracles and a teacher of men who receive the truth with pleasure;
as followers he gained many Jews and many of the Hellenic race.
He was the Christ, and when by the accusation of the chief men among us Pilate condemned him to the cross,
those who at first had loved him did not cease from doing so;
for he appeared to them, alive again, on the third day,
since the divine prophets had foretold this as well as countless other marvellous matters about him.
Up to the present day the tribe of Christians, named after him, has not disappeared."
In this form the description cannot come from Josephus.
Various attempts have been made to improve the text by leaving out a few
words here and there and by reading "he was not the Christ";
but it is highly unlikely that any authentic original version can be recovered.
We simply do not know the method that the forger used.
All we know is what Origen knew:
Josephus said something about Jesus and spoke of him as the "so-called
Christ".
Three other testimonies come from a group of Roman officials hostile to
Christianity and other non-Roman religions, which they regarded as expressions
of fanaticism or, as they called them, "superstition".
Pliny was legate to Bithynia and Pontus and wrote to the emperor Trajan in
January 112;
Tacitus, once proconsul of Asia (where Christians were fairly numerous),
wrote his Annals in 112-13;
and Suetonius, formerly an imperial secretary, published his gossipy Lives
of the Caesars about 121.
Pliny tells us a good deal about Christians, little about Jesus.
Tacitus describes a great fire at Rome under Nero in the summer of 64, and
he mentions the Christians whom the emperor used as scapegoats.
As is his
custom, he gives a brief summary of background material to explain who the
Christians were.
We do not know where he got his information.
If it comes
from police reports, these in turn were probably based on the interrogation
of Christians (Ann. 15, 44).
"The founder of this sect, Christus, was given the death penalty in the reign of Tiberius by the procurator Pontius Pilate;
suppressed for the moment,
the detestable superstition broke out again,
not only in Judaea where the evil originated,
but also in the city [of Rome] to which everything horrible and shameful flows and where it grows."
Again, we learn something about Christianity.
Momentarily suppressed at Christ's crucifixion, it "rose again" in Judaea
and spread to Rome (compare the account in Acts).
Of Christ himself we learn only that he founded the sect and was executed
under Pontius Pilate.
This hardly adds much to what the New Testament says;
and if Tacitus's ultimate source is Christian, it adds nothing.
Finally, Suetonius mentions the fire at Rome in connection with Christians (Nero, 16) and also says that in the reign of Claudius the emperor
"expelled from Rome the Jews who were constantly rioting at the instigation of Chrestus" (impulsore Chresto)
(Claudius, 25).
Since Claudius was emperor from 41 to 54, something is obviously wrong with
this statement, even though one later Christian writer (Irenaeus) thought
that Jesus was crucified during his reign.
Probably it is a garbled version
of a story about messianic riots in Rome, riots that could have resulted
in the expulsion of such Christian Jews as Aquila and Priscilla (Acts 18:2).
The passage shows that the name "Chrestus" (= Christus) was known at Rome
during the reign of Claudius.
Once more, nothing is added to what we could have inferred from the New Testament.
Our four Graeco-Roman sources, then, contribute nothing to our understanding
of the life of Jesus.
The Christian interpolator of Josephus undoubtedly thought that he was helping
history to confirm faith.
All he succeeded in doing was to remove any independent value from the testimony
of Josephus.
One might hope for some evidence from rabbinical Jewish sources, but the stories the rabbis tell are late in date and reflect no more than the attitude of the synagogue towards an early heretic.
We are left, then, with Christian testimony.
If we wish to recover early non-Christian attitudes towards Jesus we can
rely only on what Christian sources are willing to tell us about them.
To be sure, we can find that they give us a considerable amount of information.
Jesus was frequently accused of violating the Jewish law in regard to Sabbath
observances and ritual purity.
He was thought to claim divine prerogatives,
such as forgiving sins, for himself.
His driving out demons was sometimes
ascribed to Beelzebul, the prince of demons.
The expression "son of Mary" used of him may perhaps reflect a suggestion
(developed in later criticisms) that he was illegitimate.
According to
Luke, he was accused of leading a revolutionary movement, of forbidding
the payment of taxes to the Romans, and of calling himself an anointed
king.
It is true that in part Christian writers report these accusations
in order to contrast them with the true understanding, which they themselves
possess.
But the accusations fit the first century situation so well that
we need not suppose that they were invented.
Indeed, if we possessed a
report from Pontius Pilate the "facts" in it could hardly be very different
from what the gospels tell us.
Within the Christian testimony, then, we find non-Christian elements.
These elements are retained in support of Christian faith in Jesus;
but the kind of faith they support is not something unrelated to events.
The apostles and the evangelists are giving testimony to events in which,
they believe, the work of God was made manifest -
though not to all.
Because
historically the revelation was not received by all, the evangelists are
free enough, and honest enough, to record the varying responses that were
made to it.
These responses, negative as well as positive, were included
in the gospel story as they told it.
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It has long been recognized that the gospels as we have them were not written
immediately after the events that they describe.
There was a period of oral
tradition, which preceded the writing of gospels, and the existence of this
period, and of the traditions, can be proved from the New Testament itself.
The earliest New Testament documents -
the letters of the apostle Paul -
make this point clear.
The first example seems to occur in I Thessalonians 4:15-17, where Paul
is encouraging those of his readers who are distressed by the fact that some
Christians have died before the coming of the Lord.
He therefore makes a statement "with a word of the
Lord".
This word is that
"the Lord himself,
at a word of command,
at the cry of an archangel and the trumpet of God,
will descend from heaven;
and the dead in Christ will be raised first,
then we who remain alive will be taken up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air;
and thus we shall always be with the Lord."
The closest gospel parallel to this saying is to be found in Matthew 24:30-1:
"they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory;
and he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call,
and they will gather his elect from the four winds,
from one end of heaven to the other."
And in Matthew 24:34 we read that
"this generation will not pass away until all these things take place".
Here is where the problem arises at Thessalonica:
some Christians have already passed away.
There is another saying in the tradition, however, which allows for the distinction
Paul makes;
it is found in Matthew 16:27- 8.
The Son of Man will come with his angels, and there are "some
standing here" who will not taste death until they see him come
(cf. Mark 9:1).
We conclude that Paul is relying upon a tradition, which is also reflected
in these sayings in Matthew.
Similarly, when he reminds the Thessalonians that the Day of the Lord comes
like a thief in the night (5:2) he has in mind the parable related in Matthew
24:43 (Luke 12:39-40); and his words about the unexpectedness of the Day
recall such verses as Matthew 24:39 and Luke 21:34-5.
The apocalyptic passage
in II Thessalonians 1:7-2:12 is nothing but a further development of the
apocalyptic elements in the synoptic gospels.
In view of the differences
between Paul's words and those reported in the gospels, we infer that he
has relied upon oral tradition, however, not written accounts.
In I Corinthians Paul's use of oral tradition becomes even more evident.
For instance, when he is giving instructions to married couples, he says
(7:10-11)
"to the married I give charge,
not I but the Lord,
that the wife should not separate from her husband
(but if she does, let her remain single or else be reconciled to her husband)
and that the husband should not divorce his wife."
The whole passage, including the words inserted parenthetically, is close
to the words of Jesus as reported in Mark 10:11-12.
It may well be that an
earlier form of Jesus' saying is to be found in Matthew 19:9, where only
divorce by the husband, as in Jewish practice (Deut.24:1-4) is mentioned;
but the extension of the principle is logical, indeed obvious, and is implied
by the union of the couple to which Jesus refers (Mark 10:6-9; Gen.1:27,
2:24).
In this section of I Corinthians it is quite clear that Paul is able to differentiate his own injunctions from those of the Lord. In dealing with mixed marriages he is able to state,
"to the rest I say, not the Lord" (7:12)
and he can point out that
"concerning the unmarried
I have no command of the Lord" (7:25).
At the same time, in dealing with the unmarried he lays emphasis on the principle of being free from worries (7:32-4), and this principle is fully set forth in the tradition underlying Matthew 6:25-34 (Luke 12:22-31).
"The payment of ministers is based on a commandment of the Lord" (9:14):
"the Lord commanded those who proclaim the gospel to get their living by the gospel"
and this is almost certainly a reflection of the saying addressed to the Twelve in Matthew 10:10 and to the Seventy in Luke 10:7:
"the workman is worthy of his food" [or wages].
When Paul is introducing liturgical reforms at Corinth he reminds his readers of the words and deeds of the Lord Jesus
"on the night in which he was betrayed" (I Cor. 11:23-5).
Here he says that he received the tradition "from
the Lord";
he means that the Lord, whether in his earthly ministry or now exalted,
is the ultimate source of this account, which is very close to the narratives
in the synoptic gospels (Mark 14:22-4 and parallels;
especially Luke 22:19-20).
It is not so clear in I Corinthians 14:37 that Paul is referring to words
of Jesus.
Here he insists that what he is writing is a commandment of the Lord, and
he is discussing the necessity for order in Corinthian worship. Perhaps it
could be claimed that he is looking back to his injunction to be "mature"
or "perfect" in thinking (14:20), and
this could be based on something like Matthew 5:48,
"be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect."
Tradition is evidently reflected in I Corinthians 15:3-7, where Paul sets
forth the common account of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus
and then adds two lists of resurrection appearances;
apparently the first comes from the circle of Peter, the second from that
of James.
Such traditions are not so apparent in the later letters, though it seems hard to deny that, in setting forth the commandment to love one's neighbour as oneself and treating it as a summary of the law (Gal.5:14; Rom.13:8-10), Paul had in mind the fact that Jesus had done the same thing (Mark 12:28-31 and parallels).
From these passages we conclude that Paul was acquainted with collections
of traditions, which related both the words and the deeds of Jesus.
Were they oral or written?
From the freedom with which Paul handles them we should incline to think
that they were oral.
When he refers to writings he seems always to have the Old Testament in mind,
and in his letters there is no reference to any gospel materials as recorded
in written form
("the scriptures" in I Cor. 15:3-4 are
Old Testament prophecies).
The only possible exception to this statement occurs in I Timothy 5:18, where
"the scripture" says,
"You shall not muzzle an ox when it is treading out the grain" (Deut.25:4; 1 Cor.9:9)
"and the workman is worthy of his wages" (Luke 10:7; cf. I Cor.9:14).
Here it would appear that the Pastor has referred to a written gospel what
in I Corinthians was an allusion to oral tradition.
It is most unlikely that
the Gospel of Luke was written in Paul's lifetime (see chap.13, on the Pastoral
Epistles.)
We conclude that Paul was acquainted only with oral traditions about the
words and deeds of Jesus.
Does this mean that in his time written records did not exist?
Such an inference is not justified by what we know about Judaism in the first
century, when Jewish teachers produced many apocalypses and other documents.
Evidence is provided in abundance at Qumran, and students of rabbinic traditions
do not confirm the notion that the 'oral law' was entirely oral.
At the same time, it seems significant that the tradition of Jesus' sayings,
or at any rate of many of them, bears the marks of oral circulation.
Many
of his sayings have been handed down in an arrangement, which reflects not
the subject matter involved, but a correlation by means of verbal association.
Such an arrangement is especially conspicuous in Mark 9:33-50, where the
subject changes from "servant" to "child" (the same word in
Aramaic) to "my name", then back to "little ones" and
on to "cause to stumble",
"gehenna", "fire", and "salt".
Still more important, at points where Matthew and Luke report the same sayings,
often the sayings subsequent to them are different because the verbal associations
used as points of departure are different.
As one example out of many, Matthew
10:19-21 is bound together by the word "deliver";
Luke 12:10-12 is based on the phrase "Holy Spirit".
[Cf. J. Jeremias in ZNW 29 (1930), 147-9.]
Such arrangements are characteristic of the transmission of oral materials.
They suggest that until a time not long before the composition of the written
gospels there was no uniform arrangement of the sayings of Jesus but that
the sayings continued to be circulated orally.
This is to say that oral traditions
not only were characteristic of Paul's day but also continued to be utilized
considerably later -
at least into the decade between 60 and 70.
Certainly oral tradition continued to exist in much later times.
But after written gospels began to be circulated, there was some tendency
to favour the written at the expense of the oral, even though defenders
of oral tradition like Papias insisted that oral reports of eyewitnesses
were more reliable than written documents.
"I supposed that materials taken from books would not assist me as much as those received from a living, surviving oral witness" (Eusebius, H. E. 3, 39, 3).
If the tradition underlying the gospels was primarily oral, it is not surprising
that efforts have been made to analyse it and to attempt to differentiate
more authentic materials from less authentic, and to treat the analysis as
demonstrating the existence of various layers or levels of tradition.
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Especially since the end of the First World War, scholars have been trying
to get behind the written gospels to various stages of the tradition.
They
seem to have based their method primarily on similar studies of the "sagas"
underlying the patriarchal narratives of the Old Testament and of Germanic
folk tradition.
Though there is an obvious difference between traditions
in circulation over a long period of time and the gospel traditions, crystallized
in writing after being transmitted orally for little, if any, more than a
generation, these scholars believed that the Christian traditions must have
recapitulated in a very short time the processes which in other circles had
extended over centuries.
Partly because of the different ways in which the various evangelists connected
the single items contained in the traditions, form critics proceeded to their
task by first removing the framework provided by the evangelists.
The function
of this framework was only that of holding together the small units of tradition,
which originally, it was believed, circulated independently.
Such a conception
of the framework is largely correct.
We have already seen the part which
verbal association played in combining sayings of Jesus.
In addition, many
of the links provided in the gospels are not very important.
When Mark says
"after some days" or "again" or "immediately", it is doubtful that his chronology
is very meaningful.
When Luke arranges a good deal of material in relation
to a journey of Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51-18:14), the connectives
he uses ("while on the way", "after this", "when he was in a certain place")
do not seem very precise.
Similarly, the arrangement provided by Matthew
seems to exist primarily for the sake of relatively systematic teaching.
After the framework has been removed, we are left with collections of materials of various kinds in which non-literary "forms" can be detected.
There are also stories of various kinds.
The basic purpose of form criticism is not, however, limited to classifying
the various units of tradition.
Form critics have generally made use of their classifications to get behind
the gospels and look for earlier, purer "strata of tradition".
For instance,
they have that the explanations of the parables do not belong with the parables,
and that the moralizing conclusions often provided are secondary.
They have
also claimed that some miracle stories can be classified as "Jewish" (healings
and exorcisms) and therefore relatively early and authentic, others are to
be regarded as "Hellenistic" (the so-called "nature miracles") and therefore
late and unreliable.
This analysis is not very satisfactory, for
On the other hand, it cannot be denied that those who transmitted the traditions about Jesus may have handled them with some measure of freedom.
The question of the nature of the witnesses to the oral tradition thus becomes
important.
Did Mark, for example, rely on miscellaneous witnesses when he compiled his
materials,
or did he make use of the teaching of the apostle Peter?
Is the Gospel of Matthew really associated with the apostle whose name it
bears?
Some scholars have claimed that the sayings of Jesus were remembered because
Jesus taught his disciples to remember them.
There seems to be no direct
evidence to support this attractive theory, but it can at least be held that
the fact that the sayings were remembered suggests that they were spoken
in order to be remembered.
There is an emphasis upon the words of Jesus in
the gospels which seems inexplicable had he not regarded them as worth remembering
(see Mark 13:31 and parallels).
It may be that modern analysis of the process of memory will contribute
something to our consideration of this problem.
In his classical work entitled Remembering, F.
C. Bartlett has analysed two types of oral transmission.
This is to say that Bartlett's experiments confirm what common sense would
expect.
A record derived from an eyewitness is more reliable than one that has come
from a chain of secondary witnesses.
In dealing with the gospels, common
sense would also suggest that at the time they were written, or may be supposed
to have been written, there were eyewitnesses and their testimony was not
completely disregarded.
This is not to say that everything in the gospels
is precisely and literally true.
It is to say that in spite of the weaknesses
of memory the evangelists? accounts should be given the benefit of the doubt.
The gospels are not simply the product of the Church.
There is no reason to suppose - though one form critic supposed it - that
there was ever a special class of "story-tellers" in the Church.
At the
same time, the gospels were produced within the Church.
They were not produced
simply to "meet the Church's needs" in various historical situations.
The
evangelists were not trying to "make the gospel relevant".
They believed
that it was relevant because they had accepted the call of Jesus.
Though
they inevitably wrote what they believed was meaningful to themselves and
to others, they were not free to explain the apostolic testimony away.
This means that the gospels must be regarded as largely reliable witnesses
to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and that the attitudes of the
evangelists cannot be completely separated from the materials they are transmitting.
For example, Christians had disputes about keeping the Sabbath;
they had
them because Jesus himself had treated the Sabbath with considerable freedom.
They were concerned about divorce because Jesus had been so concerned.
The
life of the Church was not completely disjoined from the life of Jesus.
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At a relatively early time, Christians were concerned with asserting that
Jesus had not simply "appeared" among men as if he were an angel or a spirit.
He
was actually born as a human being;
he "was born of the seed of David according to the flesh" (Rom.1:3);
he "was born of a woman, born under the law" (Gal.4:4).
"The Word became flesh and dwelt among us" (John 1:14).
In neither Mark nor John, however, is there any statement about the way
in which he was born.
In the New Testament such statements are provided only in the gospels of
Matthew and Luke, which are in agreement in regard to several points.
The measure of agreement is obviously significant.
On the other hand, the stories diverge in regard to details.
According to Matt. 13:55 a crowd asks,
"Is not this the son of the carpenter?"
just as in John 6:42 (cf. Luke 4:22) the Jews ask,
"Is not this Jesus the son of Joseph,
whose father and mother we know?"Of course, it can be answered that
- genealogies can be traced in several ways and that
- legally, Joseph was the father of Jesus.
Crowds are not necessarily reliable authorities.
The reference to the brothers and sisters of Jesus (Mark 6:3) is harder to explain,
though they may have been children of Joseph.
"he shall be called Nazoraios" (Lev. 21:12? Judges 13:5?).
What conclusion should be drawn from these passages?
Historically, then, there are strong, if not insuperable, difficulties in
regard to the story or stories of the conception and birth of Jesus.
None
of the New Testament evidence shows that the earliest Christians regarded
the virginal conception as an indispensable dogma.
There are some historical analogies to this idea.
The idea that God's work is reflected in the births of patriarchs or heroes
is to be found in the Old Testament patriarchal narratives
(Gen. 17:19;
18:14; 21:1; 25:21; 29:31; 30:22)
and in the accounts of Samson (Judges
13:3)
and Samuel (I Sam. 1:19-20) -
as well as in the story of John the
Baptist (Luke 1:25).
In addition, whether the prophecy of Isaiah 7:14 refers
to a young woman or to a virgin who would conceive and bear a son Immanuel,
among Hellenistic Jews, and doubtless among others, the word was understood
to mean "virgin".
The fact that Greeks,
Romans and others told stories about the miraculous conceptions of various
"divine men" suggests how the virginal conception of Jesus may have won
ready acceptance in the Graeco-Roman world, but it does not explain the origin
of the belief.
In other words, analogies to be found either in the Old Testament
or in the world outside Judaism are nothing but analogies.
They neither substantiate
nor demolish the historical nature of the story.
Indeed, while some Graeco-Roman
writers regarded virginal conceptions as possible, others insisted that
they were not.
It has been suggested that the story of the virginal conception reflects
an attempt to solve the problem of Christ's nature in relation to his origin.
On this view, the picture of the pre-existence and incarnation of the Word
in the Gospel of John is the result of a similar attempt with different results.
We do not know, however, that the story came into existence for this reason.
If we turn from the main emphases of the stories in Matthew and Luke to
their details, we find that Matthew concerned with relating his version as
closely as possible to the Old Testament.
He stresses the fulfilment of prophecy and describes Joseph as a dreamer
like his Old Testament prototype.
Some details have often been questioned.
What of the star of Bethlehem and
the visit of the Magi?
Presumably the star is that predicted in Numbers 24:17,
and the Magi are Zoroastrian astrologers who played a significant role in
the first century.
At the court of Archelaus were Chaldaean astrologers and
Essenes who interpreted his dreams (Josephus, War 2, 112).
Magi came to Rome in the year 66 and acknowledged the divine nature of Nero.
This is to say that some aspects of the story are historically possible,
at least.
As for the slaughter of the innocents (Matt. 2:16-18),
Matthew regards it as a fulfilment of Jeremiah 31:15.
Did he or some predecessor invent the story after finding the prophecy?
Is the story intended to explain why Jesus was in Egypt and could be regarded
as fulfilling Hosea 11:1?
Or was there actually some such massacre in the last years of Herod?s bloody
reign?
Our judgement on such questions will depend upon the view we take of Matthew's
writing as a whole.
The entire second chapter of his gospel is tied together by means of a series
of "prophecies" regarded as fulfilled in the early life of Jesus.
What are we to make of this collection of prophecies, and of the stories related to them?
Some scholars have spoken of Matthew as a writer of haggadic legends, based
on Old Testament texts and imaginatively expanding them.
This theory might
well explain the choice of all the Old Testament passages but one, Jeremiah
31:15, and Matthew or some earlier Christian may have been meditating upon
the general resemblances between the early life of Jesus and such messianic
texts as those discovered at Qumran.
The fact that Matthew's narrative is historically possible does not prove
that the events occurred just as he describes them, and it is very hard to
reconcile with the account given in Luke 2:8-40.
The ultimate difficulty with the whole narrative of the conception, birth
and infancy of Jesus lies in the modern (and ancient, too) belief in the
general regularity of natural processes.
In early Jewish Christianity there
were those who held that Jesus was the son of Joseph and Mary, though we
do not know why they maintained this view.
Theological ideas have varied
in relation to this subject.
Most Christians have insisted that if Jesus
was the Son of God he must not have had a human father.
Others have argued
that if he was fully human as well as fully divine he must have had two human
parents.
The more traditional view is based on a definition of human and
divine nature in terms of essences, natures or origins.
The less traditional
view is primarily concerned with Jesus in terms of the response of faith
to him, though the question of "nature" is not necessarily overlooked.
Many New Testament data or phenomena are related primarily to what we should
regard as historical events.
The resurrection of Jesus must somehow belong
to this category.
Without such an event the existence of the Church is inexplicable
(cf. Cor.15:14-18), though obviously the theological significance of the
event is not in any way limited to its "happened-ness" or to the explanations
given by the earliest witnesses.
On the other hand, such a story as that
of the virginal conception is much less important. In the New Testament it
is never regarded as possessing central significance.
It has no place in
the apostolic preaching to Jews or to gentiles;
there is not even an allusion
to it except in the two narratives in Matthew and Luke; even where Paul and
others point towards esoteric teaching they are not pointing in the direction
of this story.
What it must represent is an attempt to state a way in which
God's creative activity reflected in the resurrection and in the ministry
of Jesus, was manifest in the way in which he was generated.
In Matthew the
virginal conception takes place in order to show that Jesus' origin was
due to the Holy Spirit.
He is, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, Emmanuel,
"God with us".
Similarly in Luke's account
Mary is to conceive because the Holy Spirit will come upon her and the power
of the Most High will overshadow her;
her son will be called the Son of God.
The environment of both stories is to be found in Jewish Christianity, but
it is a kind of Jewish Christianity concerned with making the meaning of
Jesus comprehensible to gentiles.
And it is at this point that we can probably
understand the tendency of Ebionite Jewish Christianity to speak of Jesus
as the son of Joseph and Mary.
Not only did the Ebionites often retain archaic
traditions;
they had no mission to the gentile world except in the sense
that they wanted gentiles to become Jews and accept Jewish customs.
The kind of Jewish Christianity in which the story of the virginal conception
makes historical sense is one which, like that of Philo, looks outward to
the gentile world and has a mission to it.
And this is obviously the kind
of Jewish Christianity reflected in both Matthew and Luke.
In Matthew, Jesus
first sends his disciples only to the empirical Israel, but after his resurrection
he sends them out to the entire world.
A similar picture is set forth in
Luke.
After the resurrection the disciples are told to remain in Jerusalem
until they have received power from on high and then to preach to all nations.
The story of the virginal conception, then, is likely to be an explanation
of the significance of Jesus in terms of origins and in the light of the
resurrection and the consequent gentile mission.
It is analogous to Paul's
interpretation of Jesus as the pre-existent Wisdom of God,
the instrument
not only of redemption
but also of creation,
and to John's picture of the
pre-existent word of God who became incarnate.
Symbolically it is important because it reflects an insistence upon God's
freedom to act and to create novelty.
God's freedom is not limited by his creatures.
But at the same time, as some of the early Fathers recognized, the Jesus
who was son of Mary was not a creature in the sense that God created him
absolutely de novo.
Because he was son of Mary he was a human being.
He really lived, really grew up (as Luke makes clear), and really died.
It is always difficult, if not dangerous, to try to separate events from
their significance, or vice versa.
But there are examples in the Old Testament of "events", which, while not
historical in the ordinary sense, convey important theological insights.
The most obvious example is the story of creation and the life of Adam in
paradise.
And it may well be the case that not everything in the New Testament
should be regarded as historically true.
Probably it would be right to say
that everything is historically true in the sense that it reflects the life
and thought of the early Church, but not in the sense that it is literally
true.
If one attempts to by-pass theological questions by an "appeal to history"
it must be admitted that the historical method as such can provide little
guidance on this problem.
Two evangelists describe the virginal conception
and the birth of Jesus in rather different ways.
If they were in complete
agreement, it might be suspected that they had relied on a previously invented
story.
Suspicion arises in relation to the differences that now exist.
How
many differences would be required in order for us to regard their narratives
as absolutely authentic and reliable?
To ask this question suggests that
it cannot be answered.
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The apocryphal gospels tell us stories of the early years of Jesus.
He made clay pigeons that would actually fly;
he restored to life a playmate whom he had accidentally pushed off a rooftop;
he amazed a teacher who wanted him to express the second letter of the alphabet
by asking him the real meaning of the first letter.
The legendary character of such accounts is self-evident.
In three of our gospels we hear nothing of Jesus' early years.
Luke, however, describes two episodes from this period, both related to the
temple in Jerusalem.
The first story deals with the purification of Mary after childbirth, in
accordance with the law of Leviticus 12:4-8.
Since her means were inadequate
for the purchase of a lamb, she bought two sacrificial birds, as the law
allowed. Luke's emphasis, however, is not on the mother but on the child.
The visit of the family to Jerusalem took place so that Jesus could be presented
to God in the temple, in accordance with Exodus 13:2,
"Sanctify unto me all the first-born."
It was the occasion of prophecies delivered by the
aged Symeon and Anna, both of whom were awaiting the deliverance of Israel.
They found prophecies fulfilled in the presence of Jesus.
The second story is concerned with a visit of Jesus to the temple at the
age of twelve, when he was probably first regarded as old enough to participate
in the Passover celebration there.
His parents left him behind when they
began their homeward journey, and when they returned to Jerusalem, they found
him in the temple, raising questions with the "teachers" there.
Naturally
they were surprised at his situation;
they were even more surprised when
he told them that he had to be in his Father's house.
This view of the temple
suggests that the story comes from early Jewish Christianity such as that
reflected in Acts 3:1, where Peter and John are described as going up to
the temple to pray.
The source of these stories is clearly described by Luke (2:51) as the mother
of Jesus.
Their atmosphere is clearly quite different from that of the apocryphal gospels,
and it may well be the case that Mary did remember them and transmit them
to others.
According to Acts 1:14 she was a member of the early Church in Jerusalem.
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By the time Jesus was "about thirty years old"
(Luke 3:23),
a prophet had arisen in the region near the Jordan River and not far from
Qumran.
Luke dates the coming of God's word to this person, John the Baptist, as
taking place in the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar (3:1);
by this year he means either AD 26 on AD 27.
In order to understand the rise of John we must bear in mind the expectations
of the Essenes.
They looked forward to the time when God would act to destroy evil and evil
men, and reward those who had become members of the holy congregation.
There would be a final war, a final victory, and a final judgement.
But when?
The Habakkuk Commentary says that
"the final moment may be protracted beyond anything the prophets have foretold."
The War Scroll seems to suggest that unpredictable comets will indicate
the coming of the final struggle.
And a fragment on the new covenant says that God will choose a people in
the time of his good pleasure;
in other words, one cannot tell when he will do so.
At that time, there was to come a prophet, the one foretold by Moses, and
two Messiahs, one a layman, the other a priest.
Sometimes the prophet is
not mentioned and we hear simply of the coming of a "faithful
shepherd" like Moses himself.
At the hour of judgement, says one
of the hymns of thanksgiving, rivers like fire will pour forth, consuming
everything in their way.
Now if we bear these expectations in mind we can understand the sudden appearance
of John the Baptist.
John was an ascetic.
He wore camel's hair clothing and a leather girdle;
he ate locusts and wild honey (mentioned in the Zadokite Document).
And he preached a
"baptism of repentance for the remission of sins."
To his hearers he repeated the words of the prophet Isaiah,
"The voice of one crying in the wilderness,
"Make ready the way of the Lord, make his paths straight" (Is. 40.3).
Here we must wonder whether our evangelists have quoted John correctly,
for we now know that in the Manual of Discipline men were told to go into
the wilderness to prepare the way -
reading Isaiah not as "a voice in the wilderness"
but "in the wilderness make ready a way".
This is what those who followed John did;
they went into the "wilderness" to be
baptized by him.
To those who went out he said,
"You offspring of vipers,
who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?"
Then he launched into an attack on those who thought that they would be saved simply because of their Jewish descent.
"Do not say in yourselves,
"We have Abraham for our father,"
for God can raise up children for Abraham from these stones.
Right now the axe is laid at the root of the trees;
every tree that does not bring forth good fruit will be cut down and cast into the fire."
This is the same sharp distinction between good and evil, which we have
already seen in the Dead Sea community and its message.
And John's prescription
for goodness is the same as that of the Essenes.
"He who has two coats is to give to him who has none,
and he who has food is to do likewise."
All were to share their property.
But then who was John?
Was he himself the expected Messiah?
No, he says,
"I indeed baptize you with water;
but after me there comes one greater than I am,
whose sandal's thong I am not worthy to loosen;
he will baptize you in spirit and fire:
his winnowing-fan is in his hand,
and he will thoroughly cleanse his threshing-floor,
and gather the wheat into his barn;
but the chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire."
John himself was the "prophet" of the
coming Messiah, not the Messiah himself;
and he predicted the sprinkling
of the Spirit by the Messiah, and the cosmic fire, which the Dead Sea people
foretold.
Here we must turn aside to look at a different account of John's work which
is given by the historian Josephus;
and we must remember that Josephus is
always anxious to show how politically harmless the leaders of Jewish religion
were, and how little they predicted coming disasters.
Josephus can be expected
to leave out whatever was distinctive about John's message.
In any event
this is what Josephus says of John:
This good man told the Jews to practise justice towards one another and
piety towards God, and then to come to baptism.
For the washing would then
be acceptable to God, not as a begging-off for certain sins but as a purification
of the body;
justice already purified the soul.
Two points deserve notice.
"no one is to go into water to attain the purity of holy men;
for men cannot be purified unless they repent their evil."
In other words, Josephus describes John in language that reveals how close
John was to the Essenes.
He gives no reason for John's proclamation and omits any reference to God's
wrath or to one who would come later, since he wants to divorce "this good
man" from apocalyptic hopes.
The preaching of John thus closely resembles that of the Dead Sea community,
near which his baptism was performed.
But the two kinds of baptism were not identical.
At Qumran baptism was not only a rite of initiation but also a rite frequently
repeated.
It was only for members of the monastic community.
For John, baptism took place once only,
and he offered it to anyone who would come.
It is possible that John had once been a member of the Qumran community.
He differed from it, however, in two respects:
In this way, it might be supposed, he modified the teaching of the Dead
Sea group much as the apostle Paul modified that of earlier Jewish Christianity.
And just as the old Jewish Christianity gradually disappeared while gentile
Christianity flourished, so the Qumran group was finally destroyed while
in John and Jesus its message, completely reinterpreted, lived on.
Neither
Jewish Christianity nor the Dead Sea group was able to last for long after
the fall of Jerusalem.
John's relation to the Essenes is important;
much more important is the relation between him and Jesus.
Here we have to deal with the gospels with considerable care.
The evangelists are very anxious to make two points clear.
First, they want to remind their readers that John was not the Messiah;
this point is stressed in the gospels of Luke (3:15) and John (1:20; 3:28).
They say plainly that he is not the Messiah;
and this view seems to be historically sound,
at least in the sense that he makes no claim for himself;
even though in the second century there was a Jewish sect, which made the
claim for him (Clem. Rec. I, 60).
Second, the evangelists want to
indicate that John recognized Jesus as the Coming One whom he preceded.
At this point their evidence is somewhat ambiguous.
It is undoubtedly a fact that John baptized Jesus.
The evangelist Matthew finds the story so embarrassing that he has John say
that he would prefer to be baptized by Jesus (3:14).
But both Matthew (11:13)
and Luke (7:19) tell us that when John was in prison he sent disciples to
ask Jesus,
"Are you the Coming One, or do we expect someone else?"
This question suggests that by having John recognize Jesus at his baptism
the evangelists are making explicit a relationship that was not quite so
clear.
Before his death, John may have decided that Jesus was the one whose
coming he had foretold; probably he did not recognize him in the crowds who
came to the Jordan.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus' earliest disciples come
from those of the Baptist.
This idea may well be historically correct, and
it helps explain the Gospel of John itself;
as we shall later see.
It is significant that John baptized Jesus.
This means that he, like others who took part in this baptism, believed that
John was right in predicting the coming fire and cosmic conflict;
that
he too believed that the end was at hand.
It means that he believed that
God was going to act as judge,
and that those who lived in accordance with
God's will would be judged favourably.
Once more, just as John's message was not precisely that of the Essenes,
so the message of Jesus was not that of either the Essenes or John.
For the Essenes, the way of the future was the way of battle and victory.
For John it was escape from the coming disaster.
For Jesus it was wholehearted acceptance of what God might bring, in obedience
to his will.
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The synoptic gospels agree that John baptized Jesus, and that as he came up from the water he saw the Spirit of God descending as a dove upon him. Luke adds that he was praying and that the Spirit
"descended in bodily form like a dove."
John says that it was John the Baptist who saw the Spirit descend.
Apparently both evangelists are trying to make the experience less subjective.
A similar tendency is evident when Matthew rewrites Mark.
In Mark there is a voice from heaven (like the bath qol mentioned
by the rabbis) which says,
"You are my beloved Son;
with you I am well pleased" (Psalm 2:7; Is. 42:1).
In Matthew the voice says,
"This is my beloved Son." ...
Thus testimony is given to the witnesses present rather than to Jesus.
A few manuscripts of Luke modify the statement still more by making it a
direct quotation of Psalm 2:7, but this reading is hardly original.
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According to the three synoptic gospels, Jesus was tempted or tested by
Satan in the desert immediately after his baptism.
John makes no mention
of this occurrence, probably because in his view the incarnate Word was not
subject to temptation.
The accounts in the synoptics are rather divergent.
According to Mark, the Spirit (received at the baptism) drove him into the
desert, where for forty days Satan tempted him.
There he was with wild animals,
and angels served him - presumably with food, as in the story of Elijah (I
Kings 19:5-8).
Angelic guardians and the danger of wild beasts are also found
in Psalm 91:11-13.
Matthew and Luke, evidently following a common written
source at this point, describe Jesus as fasting for forty days and nights
(as Moses did, Exod. 34:28), and then being tempted by the devil.
The first temptation was therefore "if you are the
Son of God" to convert stones into bread.
To this suggestion
Jesus replied by quoting Deuteronomy 8:3:
"Man will not live by bread alone,
but by every word which proceeds from the mouth of God."
Matthew and Luke present the other two temptations in different sequences.
According to Matthew,
the second took place when the devil took Jesus to the "wing" of the temple
and said to him,
"If you are the Son of God, cast yourself down."
Psalm 91:11-12 contained a promise that angels would protect the godly man.
Jesus replied by quoting Deuteronomy again:
"you shall not test the Lord your God" (6:16; cf. Isaiah 7:12).
Finally the devil took him to a high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms
of the world;
these would be his if he would worship him.
Once more a verse from Deuteronomy provided the answer:
"you shall worship the Lord your God" ... (6:13).
The point conveyed by this story may be that, though Jesus as Son of God
possessed the powers ascribed to him by the devil, he was unwilling to use
them for Satan's purposes.
But since this point is not brought out in the
third temptation, it is more likely that the basic purpose of the narrative
is the same as that in Mark.
It depicts a struggle between Jesus and Satan,
which resembles the testing of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.
Adam and Eve yielded to Satan's wiles;
Jesus resisted them and remained obedient to God.
The details of the story can hardly be taken literally.
As Origen pointed out,
there are no mountains from which all the kingdoms of the world can be seen.
Presumably the account was not intended literally.
It is a portrayal of an inner struggle,
not one that can be located geographically.
Some of the Church Fathers thought that the devil did not know who Jesus
was;
he was trying to find out by means of his suggestions.
This interpretation
is improbable since the devil's ignorance is intimated, in the New Testament,
only in I Corinthians 2:8, and in the synoptics as a whole, demonic powers
are depicted as recognizing Jesus without difficulty.
It has also been held
that in this story Jesus is rejecting the use of miraculous powers altogether.
Such a notion finds a parallel in Mark 8:12, where Jesus tells the Pharisees
that
"no sign will be given to this generation."
It is evident, however,
that none of the synoptic evangelists can have understood it in this way.
All three of them describe the multiplication of loaves and fishes and the
stilling of a storm;
Matthew and Mark report that Jesus walked on the Lake
of Galilee.
It is hard to find a non-miraculous kernel of the gospel.
After the temptation, the public ministry of Jesus begins.
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Though the baptism of Jesus took place in the Jordan, probably near the
point where it enters the Dead Sea,
and the temptation was in some desert
region perhaps in the same vicinity,
Jesus began his ministry in Galilee,
the region in which he had been brought up.
The gospels disagree as to the
way in which this beginning was made.
Mark (1:14-21) gives the following sequence of events:
Matthew and Luke agree that Jesus entered Galilee after John's arrest,
though the Fourth Evangelist explicitly states that John had not yet been
imprisoned (3:24).
Both Matthew and Luke place the call of the disciples after Jesus' teaching
in Capernaum.
Matthew emphasizes the importance of Capernaum by saying that the preaching
there fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah 9:1-2;
but he does not describe Jesus' activities as Mark does.
Luke has the ministry begin at Nazareth (4:16-30),
though he alludes to events which previously took place at Capernaum (4:23);
Jesus then goes to Capernaum, now identified as "a
city of Galilee" (4:31).
Oddly enough, though John gives a completely different account of the beginning
of the ministry,
he does state that from Cana in Galilee Jesus went down
to Capernaum with his mother, his brothers and his disciples;
but he adds
that they stayed there "not many days" (2:12).
For John the "holy city" of Galilee is Cana, not Jerusalem.
In the gospels only two indications of the occasion of Jesus' first preaching
can be found.
(1) The quotation of Isaiah in Matthew points towards "Galilee
of the gentiles" as a land of messianic expectation.
"The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light:
they that dwelt in the land of the shadow of death,
upon them has the light shined."
It was in Galilee that the revolutionist Judas had proclaimed that God alone
should be king.
Though no other evangelist uses the prophecy in this way
(cf. Luke 1:79), Jesus may have chosen Galilee not only because he was familiar
with it but also because it was a land of "darkness".
Certainly Judaeans were not enthusiastic about it.
"Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" (John 1:46)
"Search, and see that no prophet arises out of Galilee" (7:52).
(2) The synoptists' mention of the arrest of John the Baptist may provide
an occasion for Jesus' proclamation.
Having been baptized by John, he could
recognize in his arrest a beginning of God's wrathful judgement.
Such an
explanation, however, seems suspect in view of the explicit statement in
the Gospel of John that the Baptist had not yet been put in prison.
More
probably, both Jesus and John were working at the same time, at least for
some months.
Mark briefly sets forth what Jesus proclaimed in these words:
"the time has been completed
and the kingdom of God has drawn near;
repent and believe in the gospel."
(Luke 4:16-27 is an expansion of this theme and contains typically Lucan
allusions to gentiles.)
Like other allusive reports of mission preaching (e.g., I Thess. 1:9-10),
this one is not fully comprehensible unless it is expanded.
"the ancient of days came, and judgement was given to the saints of the Most High, and the time came that the saints, possessed the kingdom" (7:22).
If men sought evidence that the reign of God was being inaugurated, they
could find it in the power of Jesus over demons and diseases, as we learn
elsewhere in the gospels.
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Jesus was not content to proclaim the coming of the reign of God;
he also called disciples to assist him in his mission.
The various evangelists present this call (and consequently the picture of
the mission) in different ways.
"Follow me
and I will make you fishers for men."
They follow;
soon afterwards, they encounter two more brothers, James and John, who join the group.
In the Old Testament the image of fishing for men is used of God's judgement.
The fishermen are representatives of God's wrath;
they take the fish from the water and harm them with nets or hooks (Amos 4:2; Hab.1:15; Jer.16:16).
The same figure is to be found in the Dead Sea Psalms of Thanksgiving (Col. 5, 7-8).
The meaning of the word of Jesus is presumably analogous.
Those who follow him will be proclaiming the coming wrath of God, though they must also be telling men how this wrath is to be avoided by repentance (cf. Mark 1:15).
If we assume, as we probably should, that both Matthew and Luke represent
versions secondary to that in Mark, we are left with a choice between Mark
and John.
Both narratives treat Simon and Andrew as among the earliest disciples,
though in John, Simon is the third disciple to follow Jesus, not the first
(cf. John 20:2-8; 21:7, 15-23).
The call itself is delivered in different
ways.
In Mark it consists of the saying about fishers for men, while in John
it is based on a word of John the Baptist and Jesus' own command to come
and follow him.
In John, as in the rest of his gospel (except 21:2), there
is no mention of the sons of Zebedee.
How can these differences be explained?
Presumably the most satisfactory conclusion is to admit that both are right
and that some disciples followed Jesus for one reason, others for another.
Some of his disciples may well have come to him from John the Baptist; others
probably did not.
The notion that Simon Peter was called only indirectly
may be due to a special concern of the Fourth Evangelist, but we cannot tell
whether this concern was based on fact or not. Mark's notion of Peter's chronological
primacy may be due to Peter's own view of the matter.
These human factors must be borne in mind rather than any a priori theory
as to how early Christianity developed.
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According to Mark 3:14-16 there was a special group among the disciples
of Jesus.
Mark says that
"he made twelve to be with him
and to send them to preach and to have authority to cast out demons."
Then he repeats his first words:
"and he made the twelve."
There follows a list of twelve names.
In Mark 6:7 we read that he sent out the twelve, two by two;
when they return, Mark (6:30) speaks of them as "the apostles".
Matthew (10:1-2) identifies the twelve disciples as the twelve apostles.
So does Luke.
It is fairly evident that at a very early time it was recognized that Jesus
was accompanied by a group of disciples called "the
twelve";
this title occurs in all four gospels, as well as in I Corinthians 15:5.
In Luke 22:30 Jesus tells his disciples that they will
"sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel;"
Matthew (19:28) probably does no more than make explicit what was already implied when he refers to "twelve thrones".
Difficulties arise when we try to determine
In the synoptic gospels and Acts we find four lists of the twelve.
Apart from minor differences in order, the lists all agree as to the first
eight names,
though some manuscripts of Matthew substitute "Lebbaeus" for
Thomas (No. 8, in seventh position);
others combine Lebbaeus with Thomas;
and the Old Latin version substitutes "Judas the Zealot".
In Luke-Acts the
description of Simon as Cananaeus is interpreted by calling him "Simon the
Zealot, and Judas son of James" is substituted for Thaddaeus.
Only half
of these names are mentioned in the Gospel of John, but the evangelist mentions
"the Twelve" three times.
From these facts we should conclude that the names
of most of the Twelve were fairly well known, but that some of them were
not especially significant in relation to the story of Jesus.
Did Jesus call them "apostles"?
Only Luke (6:13) says that he did so, and
it seems more likely that the name developed from later recognition of the
mission that they performed.
In the non-technical sense ("one sent") the
word occurs in John 13:16 (compare Matt. 10:24, where "disciple"
is used), and it may also be non-technical in Mark 6:30. I Corinthians 15:5-7
may confirm such a picture, where the Twelve are differentiated from "all
the apostles".
What we discover in the New Testament record, then, is that Jesus called
twelve disciples to accompany him and to proclaim his gospel;
at the coming
of the kingdom they were to act as judges of the twelve tribes.
That they
expected such honour is suggested by the story about the request made by
James and John, the sons of Zebedee (Mark 10:35-45), who asked Jesus for
positions on his right and on his left.
It should be added that an element
of judgement was already present in their preaching mission.
Those who accepted
the gospel would enter into the kingdom;
those who rejected it had judged
themselves already. I
f men did not receive them, they were to shake off the
dust under their feet as a testimony to them
(Mark 6:11; cf. Matt.10:14-15;
Luke 10:10-12).
There is no record of their going into gentile territory
or of conducting any mission to gentiles.
As Matthew (10:5-6) reports, they
were to go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel --
primarily to those
Jews who owed no allegiance to the parties of the Pharisees or the Sadducees
or, for that matter, the Essenes.
The Twelve, then, had a present function and a future office.
Apparently
it was after the death and resurrection of Jesus that they came to be called
apostles and that, indeed, the conception of apostles as the leaders of the
community arose.
This question will be discussed in Chapter XXI.
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For modern readers of the gospels it is often something of an embarrassment that works of power characterizes so much of the ministry of Jesus, by "paradoxical events", by "works", and by "marvels" - in short, by miracles.
Sometimes refuge is sought in the meaning of the word especially favoured
by John, a "sign" which points beyond the outward and visible "work" to
its inner meaning for faith.
This solution is not very happy for John not
only lays Stress on signs but also insists upon the reality of the works.
Other ways of avoiding miracle have been found by means of a kind of historical
criticism.
Exorcisms were characteristic of first-century Palestine, and
Jesus therefore performed them.
Stories which describe miracles, which we find more incredible, can be assigned
to the Graeco-Roman world.
Such criticism, while in matters of detail perhaps correct, does not touch
the real problem:
the ministry of Jesus is full of miracles and the expectation
of more miracles;
his resurrection is the miraculous culmination of his ministry.
Sometimes it is supposed that miracles are the result of "projections" backwards
into the ministry from the resurrection.
It seems more accurate, however,
to suggest that the disciples would not have believed in the resurrection
had they not been prepared to accept its reality on the ground of something
that had happened earlier.
It may be added that objection to miracles is not a
modern phenomenon.
In antiquity there were those who did not accept the truth of stories about
them.
Indeed, the so-called Gospel of Thomas can be regarded as an anti-miraculous
document.
Jesus was so spiritual that he cannot have bothered to deal with
the natural world.
(Of course this is not the only ground on which miracles
were or are rejected.)
In dealing with miracle-stories we may make a distinction, for convenience, between
though
we must bear in mind that the early tradition did not draw such a line.
Jesus
addressed a demon and a storm at sea in the same way (Mark 1:25; 4:39) and
he once cursed a fig tree (11:14).
Yet he himself clearly regarded exorcisms and healings as of primary importance.
"If I by the finger of God cast out demons",
he said,
"then the reign of God has come upon you" (Luke 11:20; cf. Matt.12:28).
The expulsion of these invisible powers, responsible for sin and disease,
was the chief sign of the coming of God's kingdom.
Mark tells of an unclean
spirit who recognizes Jesus as the Holy One of God and comes out of a man
at his command (1:23-6).
According to Mark's summaries Jesus cured many demoniacs
(1:34; 2:11), though the evangelist gives only three other examples, all
special cases (the Gerasene demoniac, 5:2-20; the Greek woman's daughter,
7:25-30;
and the man whom the disciples could not cure, 9:14-29).
It is plain
that Jesus was well known as an exorcist, for it was said that others used
his name in order to expel demons (9:38-9), and the "scribes
from Jerusalem" argued that he possessed the demon Beelzebub and
therefore was casting out demons by their chief.
Jesus pointed out the absurdity of their claim.
How could Satan cast out Satan?
Such inconsistent conduct would bring his reign to an end (3:22-6).
In ancient belief it was necessary for demons, since they were discarnate
spirits, to find some other abode once they had left their victims.
For this
reason the "legion" possessing the Gerasene
demoniac went into two thousand swine and may have drowned with them in the
sea.
Sometimes, as Jesus observes, an unclean spirit returns, along with
others more wicked than himself, and with their aid makes the victim's final
situation worse than it was originally (Luke 11:24-6; Matt.12:43-5).
The
power of the exorcist is shown by the numbers expelled, as in the ease of
the seven driven out of Mary Magdalene (Luke 8:2).
The presence of demons
was detected by abnormal actions such as shouting (Mark 1:23), living in
tombs while shouting and cutting oneself with stones (5:5) foaming at the
mouth, gnashing teeth, and fainting, as well as jumping into fire (9:18,
20).
Inability to speak could also be caused by a demon (Luke 11:14; Matt.9:32).
Clearly such cases resemble those of psychological ailments common enough
today.
Jesus cured them with a word of command (Mark 1:25; 5:8; 9:25), following
a preliminary question of concern and recognition by the demon (1:24; 5:7)
or a statement of faith by a relative of the patient (9:24).
The result was
a loud cry of crisis (1:26; 9:26) and an immediate cure, with subsequent
health (7:30).
Closely related to these illnesses which we should call mental are the cases
of physical illness.
Jesus regarded his cures of these as important, for
he sent word about them to John in prison (Luke 7:22-3; Matt. 11:4-6).
He
cured Peter's mother-in-law of a fever by raising her by the hand;
"the fever left her and she served them" (Mark 1:29-31).
Jesus touched and spoke to a leper, and the leprosy left him at once (1:40-2;
ultimately it makes little difference whether or not ancient and modern leprosy
are the same).
When he stated that a paralytic's sins were forgiven, and
told him to get up, lift up his bed, and walk, he was cured (2:3-12).
He
restored a withered hand with a word (3:1-5).
Jairus's daughter was actually
dead when Jesus held her by the hand and said,
"Girl, get up";
she got up, walked, and ate (5:22-3, 35- 43).
A woman whom
doctors could not cure touched Jesus' garment in a crowd and was healed
at once.
Jesus felt that power had gone out from him and looked for her,
telling her that her faith had healed her (5:25-34).
Sometimes the technique of healing is more fully described.
In order to cure a deaf-mute he put his fingers in his ears and touched his
tongue with spittle;
with a groan he looked up to heaven and said,
"Be opened" (Mark 7:32-5).
Again, to cure a blind man he spat
on his eyes and laid his hands on him, producing a partial cure which was
completed only by a second imposition of hands (8:22-5).
Both examples
are omitted by the later evangelists;
both resemble the "sympathetic magic"
employed by other healers in the ancient world.
Neither is discussed in
any extant writing, of ante-Nicene commentators, perhaps because both were
regarded as too much like other instances of thaumaturgy.
But there is
no reason to suppose that our standards, or those of some early Christians,
as to what is edifying can serve as historical criteria.
From the complaints
of critics as recorded in the gospels we should suppose that Jesus was
not concerned with the question of technique. He could use whatever technique
seemed suitable at the moment.
In the last healing in Mark, that of blind
Bartimaeus, Jesus simply says,
"Your faith has healed you" (10:52; cf. 7:34).
Thus far we have discussed only the stories in Mark.
Those reported by the other synoptic evangelists are not essentially different,
though there is a slight tendency to heighten the difficulty of the miracles.
Luke gives five additional instances.
The slave of a centurion in Capernaum
is about to die when, because of the centurion's faith, Jesus heals him
without seeing or touching him.
And the only son of a widow at Nain is
about to be buried when Jesus takes pity on the mother, touches the bier,
and says, "Young man, be raised." He sits up and speaks (7:1-16).
A woman
had a "spirit of sickness" for eighteen years and could not stand erect;
she was healed by a word of "release" and the laying on of hands (13:11-13).
A man had dropsy and was cured (14:2-4).
Ten lepers - among whom the only
grateful one was a Samaritan - were cured (17:12-19).
Matthew's stories
are essentially the same, except that he twice tells a story, based on
that about Bartimaeus, about two blind men (9:27-31; 20:30-4).
In all three synoptics the stories about exorcisms and healings are told
only in relation to Galilee or its surroundings.
Only in Matthew (21:14)
do we read that
"the blind and the lame came to him in the temple
and he healed them"
- but he knows no miracle story related to Jerusalem.
From these stories it is evident that his contemporaries knew Jesus as one
who could drive out demons or perform the analogous function of healing diseases.
He was not what today is called a "faith healer".
Sometimes faith is mentioned
in the stories;
sometimes it is not.
The tradition is concerned with one
thing only, to show that the power of God was present in him.
That this power
existed is also plain from the criticisms made by his opponents.
They did
not question his power;
they only argued that it was demonic rather than
divine.
That others had it as well, and that Jesus believed that they did,
is also clear.
"By whom do your sons cast them out?" (Matt.12:27; Luke 11:19).
We conclude that the existence of a power to exorcise and to heal was not
open to question in Galilee in Jesus' time.
What differentiated his work
from that of others?
We must assume that the context was what was important.
Jesus did not exorcise and heal "for the works' sake" but because these
activities were united with his proclamation of the coming kingdom, already
potentially present in the miracles.
The exorcisms are absent from the Gospel of John, perhaps because the evangelist
or his readers did not find them edifying.
The charge that Jesus was possessed
by a demon is set forth, but it is understood as meaning that he was crazy
(8:48; 10:20).
Some of the healings are described;
they have become great
signs of Jesus' heavenly glory manifest on earth.
Four healing stories are
told.
The centurion's slave (Luke) or boy (Matthew) has become a royal officer's
son,
and as in Matthew he is healed just at the hour when Jesus speaks to
his (here) father (4:46-53).
A man has been paralysed for thirty-eight years
and Jesus tells him to take up his bed and walk, and to sin no more (5:8-9,
14).
This story resembles the version in Mark (2:3-12), and like it is related
to Sabbath observance.
A third healing is that of a man born blind;
it is
effected by putting a mixture of mud and spittle on his eyes (cf. Mark 8:23)
and by ordering him to wash in the pool of Siloam (9:6-7).
The fourth is
the most striking of all:
the raising of Lazarus, dead for four days (11:1-44).
Nothing quite like it is found in the synoptic tradition, even though there
too we find raisings from the dead.
The uniqueness of John's story lies in
his insistence that Jesus rejoiced because he had not been with the sick
Lazarus;
therefore Lazarus could die and rise.
The miracle is performed not
so much for the sake of Lazarus as to manifest the glory of God.
Here John expresses a meaning, which is less explicit in the synoptic tradition.
It
is undoubtedly significant that exorcisms of demons occur in the synoptic
gospels (but only in relation to events in Galilee) and that they are absent
from the Gospel of John and are not mentioned in the Pauline epistles (or
in any of the epistles except, by implication, James).
The only exorcisms
to be found in Acts are mentioned in a brief summary (Acts 19.11-12) describing
the effects of contact with Paul's handkerchiefs or aprons, and in the subsequent
verses which describe the activities of "seven sons
of a Jewish high priest named Sceva" (19:14); but demons are not
mentioned.
This means that exorcism, while characteristic of the Galilean period of the church's life, was not characteristic of the gentile mission, at least until the time of the Apologists, when mention of it recurs.
Exorcisms, healings and raisings thus make up the bulk of the gospel accounts
of the miracles of Jesus.
We now turn to the other stories which illustrate
the power of Jesus, and of his disciples, over "nature" -
remembering once
more that the distinction we draw is our own, not theirs.
This power is clearly set forth in the word of Jesus,
"Whoever says to this mountain,
Be lifted up and be cast into the sea,
and does not doubt in his heart
but believes that what he says is taking place,
for him it will take place" (Mark 11:23; cf. Matt.21:21).
A similar saying is preserved in different contexts in both Matthew (17:20)
and Luke (17:6) and is referred to by Paul (I Cor.13:2).
We shall later discuss
what seems to be the probable original context.
Here it is enough to say
that the saying illustrates the faith of Jesus and of his disciples in a
God who works "mighty acts" and can make
his power available for believers.
"All things are possible for him who believes" (Mark 9:23).
"I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:13).
The miracles are closely related to the belief of Christians that in Jesus
God has decisively acted;
and Jesus himself shared this faith.
Thus the nature
miracles do not really differ in kind from the others, which we have already
discussed.
The most important of them is the story of the feeding of the
five thousand, related by all four evangelists, handed down by three of them
in connection with Jesus' walking on the lake of Galilee.
(Mark and Matthew
give the story twice, once as the feeding of five thousand, once as that
of four thousand.)
In Mark the story is set after the Galilean mission of the disciples (6:30-3,
34-44).
The weary missioners are to come to a desert place and "rest a little",
but a crowd follows, eager to satisfy its curiosity.
The hour becomes late
and Jesus tells the disciples to feed the crowd.
Among them, however, they
have only five loaves of bread and two fish.
Jesus then commands the crowd
to recline in groups of fifty and a hundred;
taking the bread and fish he
blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples to distribute.
"All of them ate and were filled."
The leftovers fill twelve wicker baskets (characteristic of Jews, says the Roman poet Juvenal).
There are several ways of looking at this story.
The most common view in Western Christendom has been that it provides an
example,
and can be used as a proof,
of Jesus' power over nature.
This view, doubtless given credence by the following miracle of walking on
water,
leads to almost insuperable difficulties when the details are pressed.
Hilary of Poitiers (fourth century) was embarrassed by such questions as
these:
Where did the bread multiply?
In the hands of Jesus?
In the hands of the disciples?
In the mouths of those who ate?
Naturally rationalists advanced an equally literalistic
explanation.
Even a tiny amount of bread and fish (1/5000 of 7 loaves + 2 fish) seemed
a considerable amount to men under the spell of Jesus.
Alternatively, those
in the crowd had bread and fish of their own and suddenly began to share
at this point.
More modern students have attempted to explain the story in relation to various motifs, which can be found by considering parallels.
As Schweitzer puts it, Jesus
"consecrates them as partakers in the coming Messianic feast,
and gives them the guarantee that they, w
ho had shared his table in the time of his obscurity,
would also share it in the time of his glory."
The baskets of leftovers may be related to the mention of leftovers in the
story of Elisha or else to the Exodus story of the double supply of manna,
which was provided on the day before the Sabbath (Exodus 16:22-7).
The numbers of the baskets (twelve after the feeding of the five thousand,
seven after four thousand) may be symbolical,
but the twelve is easier to explain (apostles, tribes) than the seven is.
These motifs certainly illuminate the meanings that early Christians may
have found, and indeed almost certainly did find, in the story.
They do not indicate either that the event took place or that it did not.
A decision on this point must be reached on grounds extraneous to the New
Testament itself.
The same kind of decision must be made in regard to the
story of walking on water.
Some critics have suggested that the story is
simply a heightened account of the parallel, or somewhat parallel, story
of the stilling of the storm (Mark 4:35-41).
In both instances Jesus and
his disciples wish to cross the lake of Galilee;
it is evening, and a strong
wind troubles the disciples, who are afraid.
At a word of Jesus the sea goes
down and the disciples either fear even more or are astonished.
There are
differences, however.
In the first storm story Jesus is calmly asleep in
the boat and the disciples criticize his lack of concern (4:38),
while in
the second he comes to them by walking on the sea,
just as in Job it is God
who, poetically speaking, walks on the waves (9:8; 38:16)
and in Sirach it
is Wisdom who does so (24:5).
Again, in the first story Jesus rebukes the
wind as if it were a demonic power (cf. Mark 1:14, 23),
while in the second
the wind goes down after he announces, "It is I, do not fear", and gets into
the boat.
Finally, the points made by the two stories are different. In the
first the emphasis is laid on stilling the storm;
in the second, on walking
on water.
Both stories may reflect the Old Testament motif of Yahweh's victory
over chaos.
The conclusion in regard to Jesus, no in matter how different the stories may be, is the same.
"Who is this,"
the disciples ask (4:41),
"that wind and sea obey him?"
The power of Jesus over water, an unpredictable element of