In the preceding chapter it has been shown that the various strata of tradition, which are brought together in the synoptic gospels, do not provide evidence of the presence in the primitive church of a number of different ideas about Jesus. The further the critic is able to dig into the tradition the more clearly is the Christology seen to be one single Christology expressed in terms of Son of man and Son of God. Jesus is the messiah who came in humiliation, and who in his humiliation inaugurated the kingdom of God and fulfilled the righteousness demanded by the law and the prophets. Jesus is also the messiah who will come in glory at the end of the present order, and will establish the final kingdom. Those who believe in the humiliated messiah, and share in his humiliation, will also share in his glory and in the eternal life of the kingdom. Not only is this Christology present in the various strata of the tradition, but the whole material is controlled by it. This last statement requires justification.
The material that composed the tradition may be separated into
It must now be considered whether these elements are distinct elements, separable from and indeed actually independent of the Christology; and whether there is evidence that the Christology has been imposed upon or has been intruded into a material that existed originally in a non‑Christological form. If it is found possible to separate the material from the Christology, the conclusion must almost inevitably follow that the Christology originated with the faith of the early Christians, and not with Jesus himself. All that will have been proved is that this interpretation was imposed upon the ministry of Jesus at an earlier period in the history of Christian piety than the older critics have supposed.
The gospels are largely occupied with the miraculous.
The ministry of Jesus there consists of healing as well as teaching;
his life is marvellous as well as exemplary.
And therefore, however firmly the reader himself may believe or disbelieve the possibility of the events therein recorded; however
predisposed he may be to see in miracles either an embroidery upon the simplicity of Jesus, or a main argument for his claims; he
cannot, in obedience to some such predisposition, adopt or reject where and what he pleases. The fact that a miraculous element
exists in the material must first be examined. Only estimating the significance that it bears in the material itself can do this.
Matthew and Luke were not led to revise Mark through any craving for the miraculous. It was for the sake of clarifying and emphasizing the significance, which they found attached by him to miracles, that they modified his accounts. They did not create the marvellous for the sake of the marvellous. On the contrary, they show a tendency to edit or to omit stories of miraculous healing which they think unedifying or capable of misunderstanding. Neither, for instance retained two very elaborate Marcan miracles (Mk.vii.31‑37; Mk.viii.22‑26), the healing of a deaf stammerer and the restoration of sight to a blind man. Yet these two rniracles raise the whole problem of the place of the miraculous in the gospels.
These two miracles are recorded in such a manner as to present Jesus as a superstitious wonder‑worker. He performs two cures with the use of saliva and certain manual acts. He spits upon the tongue of the stammerer, placing his fingers into his deaf ears; he spits upon the eyes of the blind man, and lays his hands upon him. Such a use of saliva was well known in antiquity. The Emperor Vespasian is said to have performed a cure by means of it at Alexandria (Tacitus, Hist.iv.81. Swete ad Mk.vii.33). The Rabbis later denounced the practice. Mark therefore represents Jesus as behaving in the common fashion of a wonder‑worker. Moreover, the use of the hand or of the fingers, illustrated in these Marcan stories, appears elsewhere to be curiously conventionalised (Mk.i.31; v.41; ix.27). Three times the method of the cure consists in taking the sick person by the hand and raising him up. Matthew and Luke are as disturbed by this behaviour as they were by the use of saliva. In the case of Peter's wife's mother (Mk.i.31; Lk.iv.39; Mt.viii.15), who, in the Marcan story was cured by this method, the one merely says that Jesus touched her hand, the other that he rebuked the fever. But if there is anything more than coincidence in the three Marcan instances of this form, they suggest, when coupled with the accounts of the placing of fingers into cars, and the touching of eyes, that he definitely acted as a wonder‑worker and that the procedure of the editors shows their anxiety to be rid of this impression.
In the case of exorcism, the use of contemporary methods is even more pronounced. Twice Jesus, in rebuking evil, is recorded to have used an expression best translated 'Be thou muzzled' (Mk.i.25). In the first case this might seem to be an injunction to silence, since the devils to whom it was spoken had been crying out that he was 'the Holy One of God' (Mk.iv.39) . But in the second case it is addressed to a storm. There is good evidence in contemporary documents to show that it was a common form used for binding a person by means of a spell so as to make him powerless for harm. Again, in the exorcism of the demoniac of the tombs (Mk.v.9), Jesus cannot cast the devil out until he has learned his name. Knowledge of a name was commonly considered by the ancients to give power over its owner, and a formula for exorcism in the great Magical Papyrus of Paris leaves a space for the name of the devil who is to be cast out.
In spite of the relation between this picture and the behaviour of contemporary wonder‑workers, Mark draws the attention of his readers, in fact, wholly elsewhere. It is clear, both from Mark and from the common source of Matthew and Luke, that in the tradition these miracles of healing and exorcism were presented as messianic miracles, that is, as miracles that fulfilled Old Testament prophecies of the messianic age. When, for instance, John inquires whether Jesus is 'he that should come'; (Mt.xi.2‑6), his messengers are bidden to tell him (Lk.vii.19‑23) 'what they saw and heard'; and it is implied that they were seeing and hearing a number of things, which clearly fulfilled the prophecies of Isaiah. A cleansed leper is sent, according to Mark, to show himself to the priest 'as a testimony to them' (Mk.i.44). Even the two Marcan miracles mentioned at the beginning of this discussion seem to be introduced into the Marcan narrative in order to point to the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecy. One is the cure of a blind man (Mk.viii.22‑26), who is taken aside privately, that is, away from the crowds: the other of a man who was deaf and stammered, and who was cured with the same privacy (Mk.vii.31‑37). The word 'stammerer' is in this case suggestive. It occurs only once in the New Testament, and only once in the Septuagint version of the Hebrew Old Testament, and there in this remarkable prophecy:
Be strong, ye relaxed hands and palsied knees.
Comfort one another, ye faint‑hearted.
Be strong, fear not.
Behold, our God renders judgement,
and he will render it;
he will come and save us.
Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened,
and the cars of the deaf shall hear.
Then shall the lame man leap as an hart,
and the tongue of the stammerer shall speak plainly.
(Is.xxxv.3‑6)
The similarity of these two miracles, and their congruence with this prophecy, show that the Marcan narrative depends for its understanding upon the de?tection of this Old Testament allusion. But it is not only these two miracles of healing which are narrated as the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecy. (Nor, of course, is prophecy of healing in the messianic age limited to Isaiah xxxv. cf., e.g., Isaiah xxvi.19; xxix.18 f.; lxi.1.) The whole series of miraculous happenings recorded in Mark rests upon this background. For instance, the man with the withered hand (Mk.iii.1‑6), whose cure is related as a sign that the Son of man is lord also of the Sabbath (Mk.ii.3‑12), and the sick of the palsy whose walking proves the reality of the forgiveness of his sins, declare the fulfilment of the same prophecy.
These last two miracles raise a further point.
In both of them the physical cure is made the sign of a messianic claim:
in one case a claim to be lord of the sabbath, the day of the Lord;
in the other, to have power to forgive sins.
In the opening chapters of Mark there is a clear alternation between actions of Jesus that manifest his authority in the physical
world, and those that manifest it in the moral and spiritual sphere.
This alternation reaches its height in the call of Levi (Mk.ii.13‑17). From the point of view of the miraculous it is an anticlimax, being merely a call to
discipleship; but from the point of view of Mark's gospel it is a climax, led up to and guaranteed by the physical miracle that
precedes it. The argument moves precisely as in the narrative of the man sick of the palsy: 'But, that ye may know...' The
physical miracles are external signs of the supreme messianic miracle, the rescue of men from the grip of the powers of evil‑from
sin. The supreme messianic miracle to which the miracles point is the salvation of men by the power of the living God exercised
through the agency of the messiah.
So far this argument, and indeed, this whole conception, might well be the creation of Mark. But, if so, it has not only affected the narrative, but has created terse sayings of Jesus himself. For in this very context occurs the saying (Mk.ii.17), 'They that are whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.' Therefore, the argument from the physical to the spiritual miracle was either in the tradition of the teaching which Mark received, or he has boldly created a saying to substantiate it: in either case it follows that the significance of the miracles cannot be examined apart from the significance of the teaching attributed to Jesus. And this is abundantly clear from other passages. The rebuking and muzzling of evil which underlies the exorcisms and the restoring of diseased men and women to their full physical health points to a deeper healing which is more strictly messianic. All this is reinforced in a parable, which stood both in Mark (Mk.iii.22‑30) and in the source common to Matthew and Luke (Mt..23‑31; Lk.xi.15‑23). When the scribes challenge the works of Jesus, and maintain that he casts out devils by Beelzebul, the prince of devils, Jesus answers by stating that a house divided against itself cannot stand. He then plays with the word Beelzebul, bringing out a meaning suggested in Aramaic: Beelzebul ‑ lord of the house, as, indeed, the name is translated in Matthew x.25.
No man can enter into a strong man's house, and spoil his goods,
except he will first bind the strong man;
and then he will spoil his house. (Mk.iii.27)
Clearly Jesus here declares himself to be stronger than the devil, and consequently able to deliver from his
power the men and women whom he has enslaved. But what else are the miracles of exorcism but a binding of the strong man of evil?
And what are the miracles of restoration but a snatching away the vessels from the strong man's house? (cf.
Is.xlix.24 ff. for the OT background)
This conception of a world in the grip of evil into which Jesus enters with divine and messianic authority in order to save men and women therein enslaved, is echoed in other parts of his teaching:
If I by the finger of God cast out devils,
then is the kingdom of God come upon you.
(Lk.xi.20; cf. Mt..28)
So suitable is imagery of this kind, that the ordinary human care of animals is itself a parable of the necessity of caring for men and women in their distress:
What man shall there be among you,
that shall have one sheep,
and if it fall into a pit on the sabbath day,
will he not lay hold on it, and lift it out? ‑
Which of you shall have an ass or an ox fallen into a pit,
and will not straightway pull him out on the sabbath day?
(Mt..11; Lk.xiv.5)
Why should Jesus, perhaps on more than one occasion, in giving an argument
for healing summon up a picture of seizing and raising an animal out of the hole into which it has fallen?
Can it be that there is a connexion between this argument and the thrice attested seizing and raising of men and women fallen
under the spell of an evil disease?
Further can it be that there is also a connexion between this argument and the frequent pits and snares of evil in the psalms?
(e.g., at random, Ps.xl.2; xxxv.7; xxxi.4; xxx.3)
And, whether this is so or not, does the intimate contact of his hand, his fingers, his spittle, point to something more than
contemporary superstition? Is not this contact the effective representation of the true messianic salvation, which is the lifting
up of men through contact with the messiah?
Physically this salvation is manifested in the working of miracles, but its final reality consists in that discipleship which is
demanded of Levi who is both publican and sinner, of the man with great possessions, and, in fact, of all those men and women whom
he called to himself. The representation is effective, because, like the alternation in the first chapters of Mark, it displays in
the sphere of physical disease the reality of the spiritual and invisible power of God, and also because physical healing is
itself a real liberation from
the bondage of evil. But this alternation, like the alternation of storm and madness, is rooted in the Old Testament:
(The Lord) healeth the broken in heart,
and bindeth up their sorrows. (Ps.cxlvii.3)
The very use of the hand seems intended to fulfil the common metaphor there employed of the intervention of God:
Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down:
for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand. (Ps.xxxvii.24)
On such a background the phrase so often quoted 'If I by the finger of God' becomes very suggestive. For it now appears that the miracles, beyond any intrinsic value that they may possess as wonders, have everywhere that double significance which has been found throughout the tradition and the various editions of it. The primary importance of the miracles is to portray the nature of Jesus and to make manifest the long‑awaited salvation of God.
(The same remarkable sequence of thought may be seen in the relation between the collect and gospel for the third Sunday in Lent, where the words of the gospel 'If I with the finger of God cast out devils, no doubt the kingdom of God is come upon you' are applied in the collect: 'Stretch forth the right hand of thy Majesty to be our defence.'
The English reproduces the Latin 'ad defensionem nostram dexteram tuae Majestatis extende', the reformers expanding it with the addition 'against all our enemies', perhaps under the influence of Ps.cxxxviii.7.)
So far, this discussion has for the most part been concerned with what are usually called 'miracles of healing'. But the same significance underlies the great signs, which Jesus is supposed to have worked in the natural as opposed to the human world, and which are usually called 'nature miracles'. It has been seen that the Stilling of the Storm (Mk.iv.35‑41) supplies, in terms of Old Testament prophecy, an answer to the question, 'Who is this, that the wind and the sea obey him?' and that this question also introduces the transition, again present in Old Testament metaphor, to the storms of the heart.
Who stilleth the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
and the tumult of the people. (Ps.lxv.7)
Similarly, the Walking on the Sea may have reference to the God who alone, 'treadeth upon the high places (waves) of the sea'. (Job ix.8; cf. xxxviii.16. Mk.vi.34‑44; viii.1‑9) The Feeding of the Five Thousand and of the Four Thousand, carefully set in each case 'in a desert place', recall, first the miraculous feeding of the Israelites in the desert, and then the constant expectation, probably originally based upon it, of a great feast in the messianic age, when all should be filled, and when 'the meek should cat and be satisfied'.
But the problem of nature miracles, and indeed, of all miracles, is presented in peculiarly acute form in the story of the cursing of the fig tree (Mk.xi.12‑33). In its present setting, by which it is closely related to the Cleansing of the Temple, this story clearly declares the rejection of Israel because it had failed to bear the fruit, which the messiah expected to find. In Mark and Matthew it takes the form of a very dramatic miracle. But Luke omits it ' having elsewhere in his gospel a parable of a fig tree with precisely the same meaning.
He spake also this parable;
A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard;
and he came and sought fruit thereon, and found none.
Then said he unto the dresser of his vineyard,
Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and find none:
cut it down;
why cumbereth it the ground? (Lk.i.6‑9)
The existence of this Parable makes it possible that the account of any given miracle as we have it in the
gospels may be a dramatization of what had before been merely a story. But, if so, the change only served to emphasize the
significance of the story. The point is that whatever conclusion be reached concerning the relation between teaching and miracle,
the Christology is present in both and is not dependent upon the precise historicity of this or that miraculous narrative which is
recorded in the gospels as they stand.
Who is this who has authority to reject Israel?
Who is this who has authority to forgive sin?
Who is this who is stronger than Beelzebul and deprives him of his retinue of human slaves?
Even if it be supposed that Jesus never worked a miracle at all, and that everywhere miracles are transformed parables,
nevertheless these messianic claims still remain. And therefore this discussion of miracles may be said to have laid bare a
problem, which cannot have originated in them: their primary significance is the effective messianic declaration of the salvation
of God.
Is this primary in the parables and sayings also?
To sum up, then:
the Marcan miracle narratives
which at first sight seem to record conventional actions of a wonder‑worker,
are found upon closer investigation to have a wholly different significance.
The Marcan miracles are signs that the Christ is present in the midst of Judaism,
signs warranted by Old Testament prophecy.
Moreover, they are not only signs of his presence,
they are signs of the nature of his power,
since they point, as the Old Testament prophecies had already pointed,
away from mere physical healing to freedom from sin
and to the recognition of the power of the living God.
They bear witness to the advent of his kingdom.
It is the Christology that underlies the miracles and apparently conditions the details of the behaviour of Jesus.
Nor is this merely Marcan.
In the common source of Matthew and Luke (Mt.xi.2 f; Lk.vii.20.) not only are miracles of healing
presumed.
They have there precisely the same significance (Mt..28).
They are not merely miracles.
They are signs of the presence of him who should come and who is the victor in the contest with evil, signs also of the advent of
the kingdom of God.
(Lk.xi.20. Compare special Luke: Lk.i.32)
It is, then, not in the least surprising that the editors Matthew and Luke should remove phrases in the Marcan narrative which might suggest to the careless reader that Jesus was a conventional wonder‑worker, and should draw out more clearly the Old Testament background of his miracles. Thus Matthew applies
Isaiah's prophecy of the suffering servant to the whole healing activity of Jesus (Mt.viii.17. Is liii.4): 'Himself took our infirmities and bare our diseases'; and Luke introduces his narrative of the ministry with the quotation:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
Because he anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor:
He hath sent me to proclaim release to the captives,
And recovering of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty them that are bruised,
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.
(Lk.iv.18 f. Is.lxi.1)
It is clear, however, that with all their interest in Old Testament prophecy, neither Matthew nor Luke is able fully to detect the whole wealth of Old Testament allusion contained in the Marcan miraculous narratives. Again, the greater complication lies not in the work of the editors, but in the material behind them.
At two definite points in the investigation of the significance of the
miracle narratives,
a close relation between miracles and parables has been detected.
The Lucan parable of the Fig tree (Lk.i.6‑9) throws clear light upon the significance of
the cursing and withering away of the fig tree in the Marcan narrative (Mk.xi.13, 14, 20‑22);
both express the judgement pronounced by Jesus the messiah upon Israel;
both are meaningless apart from his claim to utter such judgement with sovereign and effectual authority;
both are also meaningless apart from a conception of Jesus as the messiah who demands repentance and righteousness, and who
pronounces judgement where these are not at once forthcoming.
Similarly, the parable of the Binding of the Strong Man (Mk.iii.27; Mt..29; Lk.xi.21 f.), which is
included both in Mark and in Matthew and Luke's common source, emphasizes the same themes as the stories of miraculous healing.
Both emphasize a contest between Jesus and the powers of evil, both declare him to be their master and that his actions involve
the advent of the kingdom of God, and both rest upon great pas sages in the book of Isaiah for their understanding. That is to
say, both the actions and the parable presume the presence of the messiah and declare the nature of the power of God operative in
his ministry.
A clear problem therefore arises in the interpretation of the parables as a whole.
Are these two parables peculiar in being so closely related to the actions and claims of Jesus?
And is it in these two cases only that parables must be interpreted in the light of the Christology or not interpreted at all?
Are the parables in general a method of illustrating in easily intelligible form simple moral and spiritual truths; or is it that
a peculiar Christological claim and the course of a very particular history everywhere condition and control their form and
content?
There are two distinct methods of proved value for giving forcible expression to certain truths or ideas:
In order to give force to a statement, Metaphor couches it in terms of a
different series of ideas.
It is metaphor to say
Thou art my house of defence and my castle.
The reader understands very well that God is represented in this way because the writer wishes to express his
guardianship and constant protection of men.
The writer could have said so in as many words.
He chose to use metaphor instead.
Uses a different range of terms to express a conception that could not otherwise be made so explicit.
My soul gaspeth unto thee as a thirsty land.
The writer demonstrates the peculiar intensity of his longing after God, by calling to the reader's mind a
parched countryside stricken for want of rain.
Only this simile could express his feelings:
it could not be paraphrased without losing force.
Both metaphor and simile form the basis of distinct methods of story‑telling.
If a story is told in a series of metaphors, it is called 'allegory';
if it is told in a continued simile, it is called 'similitude'.
Allegory expresses the relation between certain persons and things by substituting a whole range of persons or things from an entirely different sphere of experience. The relation of man to material goods may be told in a story in which a fox is substituted for man, and grapes for the object of his desires. But, not only could the story be told without this ruse, it could be told in many other fabulous ways: a child sighing for the moon or a dog longing for a bone. And, although actually told in disguise, the relation between the man and the goods is not changed: there is no suspicion of simile. No fox ever jumped after a bunch of grapes and proceeded to revile them when he found them unattainable.
But in similitude a relationship, which normally exists in the sphere of the story, is chosen to express a relationship in another sphere, which the writer cannot otherwise make clear. Because there is a particular relationship between a parched land and the rain that it needs and desires, that relationship is chosen to demonstrate the longing of the psalmist for God.
This distinction is of importance because the very various interpretations of parables ultimately depend on
decisions to see in them either allegories or similitudes, and to explain them as such.
The tradition of the church for many centuries was to see the parables as allegories.
It was accordingly thought possible to interpret them by substituting nouns in the theological or ecclesiastical sphere for the
nouns which formed their subject, just as the fable of the Fox and the Grapes is interpreted by substituting man for fox and
riches for grapes. So the two pence in the parable of the Good Samaritan were interpreted as the sacraments of penance and of the
altar, and the sellers of oil in the parable of the Virgins were interpreted as the ministers of religion.
But more modern commentators, dissatisfied with this treatment, have regarded the parables rather as
similitudes. The oil sellers accordingly are only a detail in a simile illustrating the need for patient watching and
praying: the two pence only a detail denoting the extreme care with which neighbours are to be loved.
Nice as is the distinction between allegory and similitude, it normally exists only in theory. In practice most allegories contain simile,
and most similitudes are tinged with metaphor.
These very different interpretations of the parables of the New Testament have suggested that they are no exception to this rule.
Although modern critics are still inclined to explain away most of the allegorical element as the embroidery of a later date,
there are now few who would judge it to have been altogether absent from the stories in their earliest form. And, indeed, if
interpretation is to avoid becoming completely arbitrary and prejudiced, it must attempt to explain the existence of both these
elements in the material as it stands.
In the interpretation of the parable of the Sower given in Mark (Mk.iv.13‑20) the parable is treated as an allegory. The seed by the wayside is shown to represent those from whom Satan takes the word; the
seed on stony ground, those who have no root in themselves; the seed among thorns, those who are troubled by the cares of the age
and the beguilement of riches. But, whereas this is all sufficiently obvious, and it is difficult to see how the disciples could
have missed it, the main points of the parable are not touched by the interpretation.
What was the word?
And when was the great harvest of such exceeding and exceptional abundance?
It seems as though this parable is not really explained, even by the interpretation given by the evangelist.
Were the parables ordinary allegories?
On the other hand, sayings that form the main argument for the interpretation of parables as similitudes are equally difficult.
Is the lamp brought to be put under the bushel, or under the bed,
and not to be put on the stand?
For there is nothing hid, save that it should be manifested;
neither was anything made secret, but that it should come to light.
(Mk.iv.21 f.)
If this is interpreted as a similitude, the meaning appears to be that just as the proper place for a lamp is
on a stand, in order that it may light the room, so it is proper that the gospel shall be revealed.
But is it possible to stop there?
Surely it calls for the addition 'in order that it may light the world'.
And if so, was the choice of the simile made not for any purely intrinsic aptitude, but because Jesus thought of the gospel, and
of the disciples who possessed the gospel, as the light of the world?
And was this choice conditioned by the Old Testament conception of the kingdom of David as a lamp?
For thou art my lamp, O Lord:
and the Lord will lighten my darkness. (2 Sam.x.29)
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. (Ps.cxix.105)
There will I make the horn of David to bud:
I have ordained a lamp for mine anointed. (Ps.cxx.17)
Howbeit, the Lord would not destroy Judah for David his servant's sake,
as he promised him to give unto him a lamp for his children alway.
(2 Kings viii.19; cf. 1 Kings xi.36; xv.4; 2 Ch.xxi.7)
Is the lamp brought to be put under the bushel?
But why, indeed, was there need at all for this simile?
Surely it should have been obvious that the gospel was to be proclaimed?
Why have the disciples to be assured that it is not to be placed under a bushel or under a bed ‑ unless at the moment it is
hidden?
Can it be that we have here neither a simile nor an allegory?
Must not the parable, for its proper understanding, be set firmly in the historical situation in which Jesus was endeavouring to
assure his disciples that his coming was not always to be in humiliation and rejection, but that the time was coming when the
light should be clearly set forth?
'How am I straitened till that come to pass!'
The parable of the Sower is not the only story told in terms of sowing and reaping.
There is a parable of a (Mk.iv.26‑29) Seed that grows by itself; another of a Mustard Seed (Mk.iv.30‑32) which becomes a tree larger than all others, though (Mt.i.24‑30) smaller than any other seed.
In Matthew there is a parable of wheat, which grows mixed with tares until the harvest.
But Hosea pictures the final establishment of Israel, not only as a betrothal, but as a sowing (Hosea
ii.19 f.):
And it shall come to pass in that day,
I will answer, saith the Lord,
I will answer the heavens and they shall answer the earth;
and the earth shall answer the corn and the wine and the oil;
and they shall answer,
Whom God soweth.
And I will sow her unto me in the earth;
and I will have mercy upon her that had not obtained mercy:
and I will say to them which were not my people,
Thou art my people;
and they shall say,
Thou art my God.
(Hosea ii.21‑23)
Jeremiah, too, uses the same figure:
Behold, the days come, saith the Lord,
that I will sow the house of Israel and the house of Judah
with the seed of man, and with the seed of beast.
And it shall come to pass,
that like as I have watched over them,
to pluck up, and to break down, and to throw down, and to destroy, and to afflict;
so will I watch over them,
to build, and to plant, saith the Lord.
(Jer.xxxi.27 f.)
Another prophet likens the word of God coming down from heaven to the rain which
giveth seed to the sower and bread to the eater ...
it shall not return to me void.
(Is.lv.10 f.)
We may compare:
Upon the land of my people shall come up thorns and briers;
yea, upon all the houses of joy in the joyous city:
for the palace shall be forsaken,
the populous city shall be deserted;
the hill and the watch‑tower shall be for dens for ever,
a joy of wild asses, a pasture of flocks;
until the spirit be poured upon us from on high,
and the wilderness become a fruitful field...
(Is.xx.131)
These passages show that the metaphor of sowing in the Old Testament almost demanded a messianic application. So did the metaphor of harvesting.
For thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel:
The daughter of Babylon is like a threshing‑floor,
it is time to thresh her;
yet a little while, and the time of harvest shall come.
(Jer.li.33)
Let the heathen be wakened,
and come up to the valley of Jehoshaphat:
for there will I sit to judge all the heathen round about.
Put ye in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe:
come, get you down, for the press is full,
the fats overflow; for their wickedness is great.
(Joel iii.12 f.)
Also, O Judah, there is an harvest appointed for thee,
when I bring again the captivity of my people.
(Hosea vi.11)
So far the harvest is of wrath and judgement. In a psalm that voices the longing for deliverance from captivity, its significance is one of joy and happiness:
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed,
shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
bringing his sheaves with him.
(Ps.cxxvi.5 f.)
This last verse alone might have suggested the parable of the Sower.
For it is clear that just the same antithesis is present in it.
The sower sows, and, in spite of all adversity and waste, a huge harvest is produced.
The mustard seed, the smallest of all seeds, produces a tree greater than all the trees, and putteth out great branches; so that
the birds of heaven can lodge 'under the shadow thereof'. There is no need, in this case, for the parable to be declared a
likening of the kingdom of God, for the figure of the birds lodging in the branches of a great tree is an Old Testament figure for
a great kingdom. The seed growing by itself similarly emphasizes the magnitude and inevitability of the harvest. (Ezek.xxxi.6 ff.; Dan.iv.20 ff.; cf.Judges ix.15)
The point must not be laboured.
But the Old Testament background and the sequence in thought of these parables of sowing and harvesting warrant the suggestion
that they are neither similitudes nor allegories, in the usual sense, but are authoritative and theological expositions of
particular occurrences, expositions already formulated and anticipated in the Old Testament, so that the events are set forth as
the fulfilment of the hope of Israel. Other parables betray the same careful choice of simile and metaphor. More than once Isaiah
had referred to Israel as God's vineyard. The parables of wedding feasts and of the waiting of the Virgins for the bridegroom are
foreshadowed in the betrothing of Israel to God and in the great feast of the coming age typified by the manna in the wilderness.
The likening of him who keeps the words of Jesus to the wise man who builds on rock is suggestive of the tried stone laid in Zion,
which will stand though 'the hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding place'. (Is.xxviii.16 f.)
The matter of the parables of Jesus is taken from the ordinary common life of Palestine and at times from incidents that had occurred either in the experience of a particular family or in the wider political life of the country as a whole, but the parables cannot for this reason be explained as mere illustrations of this or that moral truth, seen with the eyes of a poet and clothed in a poet's perfection of language. The selection of themes is in the main an Old Testament selection, the poetry is the poetry of Old Testament prophecy, and, more than this, the themes had already been endowed with a peculiar significance. They look forward to a divine event. Everywhere in the parables of Jesus this peculiar significance is presumed. No doubt Jesus spoke the meaning of what he saw and heard, but he saw and heard as one created by the prophets of Israel. Yet in his eyes and on his lips the themes are no longer prophetic, but messianic. They declare the divine event to be now taking place and the destiny of men to be dependent upon their acceptance or rejection of this event.
This Christological penetration of the parables renders them everywhere less illustrations of moral or spiritual truths that are easy of understanding than an integral element in the revelation of God that is taking place in Palestine with the advent of the messiah in his humiliation. Their understanding therefore depends upon the recognition of Jesus as the messiah and upon the recognition of the kingdom of God that is breaking forth in his words and actions. As a result of this particular historical situation, the Greek word parabole escapes from its Greek context, escapes also from the meaning which the Rabbis attached to its Hebrew equivalent, mashal, and acquires the meaning, which mashal, translated by parabole, possessed in certain important Old Testament passages. There the word was used to denote Israel as a surprise or a byword, a scandal or an enigma to the nations, because the chosen people composed the concrete sphere of God's revelation to the world. In their captivity they revealed His judgement upon disobedience:
I will even give them up to be tossed to and fro among all the kingdoms of the earth for evil; to be a reproach and a proverb (mashal‑parabole),
a taunt and a curse, in all places whither I shall drive them;
(Jer.xxiv.9)
in their possession of the law they displayed the righteousness which he demanded:
And thou (Israel) shalt become an astonishment, a proverb (mashal‑parabole),
and a byword, among all the peoples whither the Lord shall lead thee away. (Deut.xxviii.37)
It is therefore not in the least surprising to find Mark recording that the parables of Jesus were the means by which he presented to his disciples 'the mystery of the kingdom' (Mk.iv.11), and that he expected his disciples to perceive this meaning. To the crowds who had no personal relation with him his parables must remain unintelligible. Moreover, this whole conception of parables as mysteries of the kingdom of God is not a Marcan interpretation of them, or at least Mark does not give this impression, for he records a saying of Jesus which assigns to them this significance: 'Unto you is given the mystery of the kingdom of God: but unto them that are without, all things are done in parables.' (Mk.iv.11) It is therefore impossible to remain satisfied with the meaning, which the Greek lexicographers Liddell and Scott give to the word parabole in the New Testament: 'a fictitious story by which some religious or moral lesson is conveyed'.
The parables, then, are shot through with the same Christological significance as the miracle narratives; with the same emphasis on something hidden now which is to be revealed openly in the future; with the same emphasis upon the necessity of recognizing what is now hidden, if men are to share in the glory which is to be; with the same confidence that this very hiddenness is not an intentional covering up of truth but its necessary manifestation in humiliation; and finally, with the same concentration upon the single historical figure of Jesus of Nazareth, so that the movement of Old Testament simile and metaphor comes to rest in this particular history. And yet the parables are everywhere driving home an urgent moral demand. They therefore bring into prominence those moral aphorisms of Jesus that are not expressed in parables. Consequently, the last stage of the investigation of the synoptic material must deal with these aphorisms, for here at last it may be possible to get behind this peculiar Christology and lay bare a teacher of morals, a reformer of Judaism, who claimed no more than the true insight of a prophet.
The attempt on the part of Christian scholars to discover in the
teaching of Jesus some new teaching about ethics or morals has completely, or almost completely, broken down. Those modern Jewish
scholars who have busied themselves with a comparison between the ethical teaching of Jesus and the ethical teaching of the rabbis
have given this judgement, that there is no single moral aphorism recorded as spoken by Jesus, which cannot be paralleled, and
often verbally paralleled, in rabbinic literature. With this conclusion Christian scholars working in the field of rabbinics are
showing more and more agreement. For example, there can be no doubt that the best of the rabbis would have regarded such a saying
as 'The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath' (Mk.ii.27) as a self‑evident
truism. Similarly, the constant insistence by Jesus that the righteousness that God demands is a righteousness of the heart could
not have been strange or new teaching. And, indeed, this is definitely stated by Jesus in the Matthaean gospel, 'the scribes and
the Pharisees sit in Moses' seat: all therefore whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do' (Mt.xi.2
f.). Even the Golden Rule (Mt.vii.12) has its parallel in rabbinic teaching. Moreover, the
similarity between the ethical teaching of Jesus and the ethical teaching of the rabbis is evident not only in the substance of
the teaching, but also in its form.
When Jesus utters a series of Beatitudes,
Blessed are the poor...
Blessed are those that hunger... (Lk.vi.20)
He is casting his teaching in a familiar mould.
The rabbis commonly used parables to illustrate their discourses.
Jesus adopted their custom.
Such set introductory formulae as:
To what shall we liken...?
and the use of rhythmic parallelism,
Love your enemies,
Do good to them which hate you,
Bless them that curse you,
And pray for them which despitefully use you.
(Lk.vi.27, 28)
Of thorns men do not gather figs,
Nor of a bramble bush gather they grapes,
(Lk.vi.44)
were also characteristically rabbinic.
There is, it is true, considerable difficulty in dating with precise accuracy the emergence into a pregnant saying of this or of that fragment of rabbinic moral teaching, but no competent scholar would deduce from this uncertainty dependence on the part of the rabbis upon the teaching of Jesus. It is also true that there is much in the moral teaching of the rabbis that goes beyond his recorded teaching. His teaching is selective, and the selection is no doubt significant. Yet, in view of this very modern agreement between Jewish and Christian scholars, it is tempting to conclude that after all Jesus must be placed in the succession of Jewish moral teachers, and that the address 'Rabbi' does at least set him in the correct historical context.
It is impossible, however, to read much of the surviving rabbinic literature without recognizing the gulf that separates the gospels from this Jewish literature. This difference penetrates even the aphorisms of Jesus. It is not sufficient merely to draw up a list of parallels between his teaching and that of the rabbis. What requires explanation is the authority with which he spoke, the urgency that accompanied his moral demands, and the evident judgement of God, which he declared, would inevitably follow any refusal to obey him. And why should the Jewish religious authorities have demanded his death, if he had merely taught what many of them were accustomed to teach, and differed from them only in that his teaching was more carefully selected and was shrewdly protected against the accusation of sedition?
The moral utterances of Jesus are frequently introduced with the words, 'But I say unto you...' There are examples of this introduction in all four strata of the material, and accordingly it seems to have been frequently on the lips of Jesus. But it is difficult to suppose that it was no more than an habitual didactic form, or the mere mannerism of a teacher; for it serves at times to draw attention to an antithesis, and, in several cases to an antithesis not merely between the teaching of Jesus and contemporary ethical opinion, but between his demands and statements in the Mosaic law. In the Sermon on the Mount (Mt.v.), Matthew sets forth teaching upon a series of subjects, introducing each of them by such words as
Ye have heard that it was said...
Ye have heard that it was said to them of old time...
and immediately quoting such sayings as
'Thou shalt not kill...
'Thou shalt not commit adultery...
taken from the heart of the law laid down in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy as the verbal commands of God himself. The citation is made not merely in order to evoke, here and now, a fulfilment of the letter of the command, not merely to secure recognition of its spirit, but also to insist that its full implications must take control of every fragment of human life. For instance:
Ye have heard that it was said,
Thou shalt not commit adultery:
but I say unto you,
that every one that looketh on a woman to lust after her
hath committed adultery with her already in his heart...
And if thy right eye causeth thee to stumble, pluck it out...
(Mt.v.27 f.)
This means, not the pressure of the moral demand into the sphere of the heart, but the pressure of the righteousness of the heart outwards into quite concrete physical action.
The precise and pregnant sayings, in which Jesus formulated his ethical teaching, are everywhere expositions of the revealed law of God. The righteousness that Jesus demanded is lacking in originality, not because the rabbis similarly formulated it, but because it was the demand of God revealed to the Hebrew people. Jesus was able to summarize this demand by taking two passages from the law and quoting them verbally (Mk..29‑31; cf. Deut.vi.4, 5, and Lev.xix.18).
This apprehension of the demand of God involves the setting aside of whole elements in the Mosaic Law, because they were concessions to the weakness of men authorized by Moses himself. Some Pharisees, for instance, question Jesus on the subject of divorce (Mk.x.2‑9). He asks them what Moses taught, and, when told his teaching, declares that it was written only for the hardness of their hearts; and, in order to reveal the true law of God, appeals from the Mosaic law to the opening chapter of the book of Genesis. Mark, who records this incident, shows in other parts of his gospel that Jesus was ready (Mk.vii.1‑23) to set aside, not only the tradition of the elders, or scribes, not only, in fact, Judaistic conceptions of the law, but even, if necessary, the Mosaic code, which was credited with, and indeed claimed to have, divine origin. For instance, his justification of the fact that his disciples were not keeping a fast (Mk.ii.8‑22) which Jewish custom demanded, and his justification of their plucking corn on the sabbath day (Mk.ii.23‑28) with an argument turning upon David's overriding of the law, show that he regarded certain of its commandments as no longer binding on those who have obeyed the call to follow him. But he demanded an immediate and complete obedience to the will of the living God, and described his work not as patching an old garment with new cloth (Mk.ii.21 ff.), but, it must be inferred, as making a new garment of new cloth; not as pouring new wine into old bottles, but as pouring it into new bottles created for the new wine. Such an attitude explains Mark's comment (Mk.i.22) that the people were astonished at his teaching, saying that he taught as one having authority, and not as the scribes.
The impression given by Mark is borne out in the other strata of the material. And this in spite of the apparent contradiction of such a saying, recorded by Matthew, but probably taken from the source used also by Luke:
Till heaven and earth pass,
one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law,
till all be fulfilled.
(Mt.v.18; Lk.xvi.17)
The saying which precedes it, and which was probably derived from Matthew's special material, explains the apparent contradiction.
I am not come to destroy the law or the prophets, but to fulfil. (Mt.v.17)
Jesus demands that the law of God must be fulfilled to the uttermost. This demand alone fully explains the condemnation of
this adulterous and sinful generation (Mk.viii.38)
that culminates in the Woes to the scribes and Pharisees found in the common source:
Woe unto you also, ye lawyers!
For ye lade men with burdens grievous to be borne,
and ye yourselves touch not the burdens with one of your fingers.
(Lk.xi.46; cf. Mt.xi.4)
Woe unto you!
for ye build the sepulchres of the prophets,
and your fathers killed them.
(Lk.xi.47; cf. Mt.xi.29)
Woe unto you lawyers!
for ye have taken away the key of knowledge:
ye entered not in yourselves,
and them that were entering in ye hindered.
(Lk.xi.52; cf. Mt.xi.13)
Therefore also said the wisdom of God,
I will send unto them prophets and apostles,
and some of them they shall slay and persecute;
that the blood of all the prophets, which was shed from the foundation of the world,
may be required of this generation;
from the blood of Abel to the blood of Zacharias
which perished between the altar and the temple:
verily I say unto you, It shall be required of this generation.
(Lk.xi.49‑51; cf. Mt.xi.34‑36)
Here is no ethical idealism, but an urgent moral realism.
It is not, however, upon this authoritative exposition of the law of God that the emphasis mainly lies. The emphasis lies not merely upon the urgency of the present demand, but upon its cause. The urgency is occasioned by the presence of Jesus in their midst, by the imminence of his removal, and by his call that men should follow him. It is his presence that makes necessary the immediate fulfilment of the demand of God revealed in the law and occasions his exposition of the precise nature of that demand.
The law and the prophets were until John:
since that time the kingdom of God is preached.
(Lk.xvi.16; cf. Mt.xi.13)
Blessed are your eyes, for they see;
and your cars, for they hear.
(Mt.i.16; cf. Lk.x.23)
Follow me;
and let the dead bury their dead.
(Mt.viii.22; cf. Lk.ix.60)
Consequently, it is upon those who have left all and followed him that the whole weight of the law of God falls, with the confident hope that they can bear it and undertake a greater purification:
Ye are the salt of the earth. (Mt.v.13)
Ye are the light of the world. (Mt.v.14)
For I say unto you, that except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.
(Mt.v.20)
Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.
(Mt.v.48; cf. Mt.xix.21)
This does not mean that God does not demand obedience from the crowds, but that the obedience demanded is confidently awaited in those who have obeyed the call of Jesus and persist in discipleship.
No man,
having put his hand to the plough, and looking back,
is fit for the kingdom of God. (Lk.ix.62)
Jesus, then, cannot be fitted into contemporary Judaism; he goes behind it to the law and the prophets and definitely states that now is the time of their fulfilment.
I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. (Mt.v.17)
No man also seweth a piece of new cloth on an old garment. (Mk.ii.21)
And no man putteth new wine into old bottles. (Mk.ii.22)
The sequence of ideas may be made clear by drawing attention to the Matthaean collection of sayings concerning divorce, and to the teaching concerning money, which is scattered about the gospels. Matthew adds to the Marcan account of the teaching of Jesus on the incompatibility of divorce with the law of God, a very human question asked by the disciples:
If the case of the man be so with his wife, it is not good to marry.
But he said unto them,
All men cannot receive this saying, save they to whom it is given.
For there are some eunuchs, which were so born from their mother's womb:
and there are some eunuchs which were made eunuchs of men:
and there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs
for the kingdom of heaven's sake.
He that is able to receive it, let him receive it.(Mt.xix.10‑12)
This clearly implies that the advent of the kingdom may require a complete separation from ordinary human life, and fits exactly into the more comprehensive teaching on family ties elsewhere laid down for the disciples. Discipleship may entail separation from father, mother, brethren, sisters, even, perhaps, from wife as well. But it is a discipleship in which human life is reformed in a new dimension. The
hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions (Mk.x.30)
which a man shall receive who has left
house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel's (Mk.x.29)
is made understandable by the parallel saying,
Whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and mother. (Mk.iii.35)
The sequence is, therefore,
the revelation of the law of God,
the mission of Jesus,
the acceptance of his call,
the advent of the kingdom of God,
and the consequent requirement of obedience to the law of God.
This is the background of the sayings,
Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect ‑
Ye are the salt of the earth.
The same sequence appears in the Marcan narrative of the rich man, and here the series of ideas reaches its inevitable climax. A man comes running to Jesus (Mk.x.17‑22).
Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?
He has kept the commandments from his youth up.
Jesus looks at him and loves him, and says:
One thing thou lackest:
go, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor,
and thou shalt have treasure in heaven:
and come, follow me.
The man goes away, refusing not only to provide for the poor, but also to follow Jesus. Jesus comments,
How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God!
The disciples are amazed, and are told that it is impossible with men, though not with God.
It is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye,
than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God!
The salvation of a rich man is possible only by an act of God.
Peter says:
Lo, we have left all, and have followed thee.
Jesus then solemnly promises to those who have left all, for his sake and the gospel's, eternal life in the age to come. This teaching is echoed in the special Lucan story of Zacchaeus (Lk.xix.8 f.), who, when he declares that he will make fourfold restitution to those he has defrauded, and will give half his possessions to the poor, is told that salvation has come to his house. That this salvation of God occurs in the context of obedience to the call of Jesus and not merely as a result of the surrender of wealth is made clear in a passage from the same source, addressed to the disciples. Following the description of God's care for the birds and of his clothing of the grass of the field, Luke proceeds:
How much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith?
And seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind.
For all these things do the nations of the world seek after:
and your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.
But rather seek ye the kingdom of God;
and all these things shall be added unto you.
Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.
Sell that ye have, and give alms;
provide yourselves bags which wax not old,
a treasure in the heavens that faileth not, where the thief approacheth, neither moth corrupteth.
(Lk..28‑33)
In this teaching about riches the same series of ideas is found as in the Matthaean teaching concerning divorce. The complete fulfilment of the law of God is effected in and by acceptance of the call of Jesus. This is the salvation of the living God, and bestows his supreme treasure, which is eternal life in his kingdom.
There is, however, a further emphasis in the aphorisms of Jesus. He insists upon a present humiliation contrasted with a future glory. The disciples must share in his humiliation.
Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests,
but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head. (Mt.viii.20; Lk.ix.58)
And he that taketh not his cross and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.
(Mt.x.38; cf. Mk.viii.34; Lk.xiv.27; Lk.ix.23; Mk.x.30)
The new family is a Persecuted family: 'with persecutions'. In this context must be placed the following passage, in which the humiliation of the disciples is linked to his own humiliation:
Ye know that they which are accounted to rule over the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and their great ones exercise authority upon them.
But so shall it not be among you:
but whosoever will be great among you, shall be your minister:
and whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be servant of all.
For even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister,
and to give his life a ransom for many. (Mk.x.42‑45)
Similarly, when James and John desire to sit with him in glory, he accepts their readiness to drink the cup that he drinks, and to be baptized with the baptism with which he is baptized and answers:
Ye shall indeed drink of the cup that I drink of;
and with the baptism that I am baptized withal shall ye be baptized:
but to sit on my right hand and on my left hand is not mine to give;
but it shall be given to them for whom it hath been prepared. (Mk.x.39 f.)
Both these last sayings, however, do more than link the humiliation of the disciples with his own. They contrast future glory with present humiliation, and future openness with present secrecy, as is insisted upon elsewhere:
Ye shall not have gone over the cities of Israel, till the Son of man be come. (Mt.x.23)
Fear them not therefore:
for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed;
and hid, that shall not be known.
What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light:
and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetops. (Mt.x.26 f.)
For as the lightning cometh out of the cast, and shineth even unto the west;
so shall also the coming of the Son of man be.
For wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together.
(Mt.xxiv.27 f. cf. Lk.xvii.24,37)
I have a baptism to be baptized with;
and how am I straitened till it be accomplished! (Lk..50)
Finally, the humiliation is not a mere means of entry into glory on the part of Jesus and his followers; it is a victory over the powers of evil, already begun:
And the seventy returned again with joy, saying,
Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.
And he said unto them,
I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven.
Behold I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions,
and over all the power of the enemy:
and nothing shall by any means hurt you.
Notwithstanding in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you;
but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven. (Lk.x.17‑20)
(The passage is addressed to the disciples, though the framework containing the number seventy is probably a piece of Lucan editing.)
The conclusion, which follows from an investigation of the aphorisms found in all strata of the synoptic material, is that they are utterances of the messiah who is inaugurating the kingdom of God in which the law of God revealed to the Hebrew people is fulfilled.
Further, the kingdom is inaugurated in humiliation, in the midst of persecution and misunderstanding; and this humiliation is not merely the necessary prelude to the final kingdom, it is the condition of entry into it. The aphorisms of Jesus, then, cannot be detached from this messianic background, and they cannot be detached from particular events in Palestine. They are not merely general ethical aphorisms: they declared the presence of the kingdom of God, and are rooted in a peculiar messianic history. Thus the aphorisms have to be placed with the miracles and the parables. The peculiar Christology penetrates the aphoristic teaching of Jesus as it penetrates the record of his miracles and of his parables. The Christology lies behind the aphorisms, not ahead of them; this means that at no point is the literary or historical critic able to detect in any stratum of the synoptic material evidence that a Christological interpretation has been imposed upon an un-Christological history. This does not of course mean that the framework in which the evangelists have set the miracles, parables and aphorisms of Jesus is necessarily historical. Nor does it mean even that the miracles, parables and aphorisms themselves, when isolated from the framework, are straight historical records. What it does mean is that both the framework and the miracles, parables and aphorisms set in it, emerge from, lie upon, and rightly interpret, the general matter of the tradition. Rightly, as far as we are able to judge, since the analysis of the gospels does not anywhere show the grain of the tradition running in a contrary direction. The material is everywhere Christological, although it remains, none the less' fragmentary and episodic. The three evangelists have done little more than arrange the tradition.
Professor C. H. Dodd has recently written a very valuable book on the parables, The Parables of the Kingdom, London, 1935. For the picture they provide of contemporary life compare his The Authority of the Bible, London, 1928, pp. 148‑152.
For the method of form criticism that has analysed the material on the assumption that it is separable into isolated episodes or fragments, see particularly Professor Rudolf Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, second edition, 1931.
Dr. B. T. D. Smith's The Parables of the Synoptic Gospels, published in 1937, is indispensable for the English student.